My hero system

by Dr.Cats

Izuku gains a mysterious system granting him video game-like classes, skills, and quests. Marked as "early access," he has two years before the full release to uncover its secrets. As he grows stronger, Izuku must choose: follow his idol's heroic path or forge his own, even if it leads to a darker destiny.

15. Chapter 15 Deathmatch Part 1 and 2

Chapter 15 Deathmatch Part 1 and 2.

Izuku woke slowly, the sound of light laughter and the flicker of a TV screen pulling him from his sleep. His head was heavy, and his body felt like it had melted into the warmth of the bean bag chair. As he stirred, he became aware of a soft, familiar sensation—his head resting comfortably against Rumi's thighs. She was lounging back, the remote in one hand and the other idly brushing through his hair.

"Morning, wife," she said teasingly, not even glancing away from the screen as he groaned softly. "I took care of your two friends for you. They're probably limping home right about now."

"Stop calling me that," he mumbled into her lap, his voice muffled and tired.

She chuckled, giving his hair a playful ruffle. "Man, you're exhausted. What's it like being this overworked, huh? You gonna survive, or should I call someone?"

He grumbled again, more to himself than her. "Jet lag, dungeon runs all night, staying up to celebrate getting into UA… yeah, not my smartest move."

As he adjusted slightly, she shifted her legs, letting him settle more comfortably. Her hand moved back to his hair, her touch surprisingly gentle as she started to run her fingers through it again.

"Better?" she asked softly.

"Yeah," he muttered, his voice barely audible. The rhythmic motion of her hand against his scalp was relaxing in a way he hadn't expected.

They stayed like that for a while, the noise from the TV filling the space between them. Eventually, Rumi broke the silence.

"So," she said, her voice light but curious. "About these 'dungeons' you're always talking about in your weird gamer lies—what's the deal? Can I see it?"

He cracked one eye open, turning his head slightly to look at her. "Sure. It's on the computer," he said lazily, smirking.

She rolled her eyes. "Come on, I'm not stupid. I know it's not a game. Just show me already, would you?"

Izuku pushed himself up slightly, reaching out to gently boop her on the nose. "A naughty bunny like you? Not a chance," he teased, earning a playful glare from her.

Rumi shifted suddenly, pinning him back down as she straddled his waist, her crimson eyes narrowing. "Look, I just want to know what's going on," she said earnestly. "You look exhausted, and I want to help."

Izuku sighed, his gaze softening as he studied her. "Rumi, it's not that I don't appreciate that. But…" He hesitated, struggling to find the right words. "I can't trust you yet. Not completely."

Her ears drooped, and her confident demeanor faltered. "Yeah, I get it," she said quietly. "I'm just a screw-up."

"Hey, no," Izuku said firmly, his hand reaching up to gently lift her chin so she was looking at him. "You're not. Everyone makes mistakes, Rumi. You just… make a lot of them. And I need time. That's all."

She pouted slightly, her ears twitching as she sat back on her heels. "You trusted me enough to bring me back here. Doesn't that count for something?"

"It does," he said, offering her a small smile. "But trust isn't an all-or-nothing thing. We just got through one mess, remember? The… you know, whole 'trashing the place and getting everyone drunk' incident?"

Rumi winced, scratching the back of her head. "Yeah, okay, fair. But I'm getting better, right?"

"You are," he admitted. "And that's why you're here. Just give it time, okay?"

She nodded reluctantly, though her pout didn't fade entirely. "Fine. But you're really making me work for this, you know."

"You'll manage," he said, his smile widening slightly. "Besides, don't you have patrols to get ready for?"

Her eyes widened, and she bolted upright. "Crap! Night shift—I completely forgot!"

She scrambled to her feet, moving so quickly that she didn't bother leaving the room to change into her outfit. Izuku sat up, his face immediately turning red as he tried to look away, but his eyes betrayed him, wandering against his will.

Rumi caught his gaze and smirked. "Pervert," she teased, pulling on her hero outfit and adjusting her boots.

"Am not," he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck.

She laughed, throwing her bag over her shoulder as she headed toward the door. "Sure you're not. Try to get some sleep, 'wife,'" she called over her shoulder, a playful lilt in her voice.

Izuku collapsed back onto the bean bag chair, groaning softly. "I'm never going to live that down," he mumbled to himself.

As Rumi opened the door, she paused for a moment, glancing back at him. "Hey," she said, her tone softer now. "Thanks, you know… for not giving up on me."

He opened one eye, meeting her gaze. "I'm not doing it out of pity or obligation, Rumi. I just… think you deserve a chance. That's all."

She smiled faintly, nodding before stepping out into the night. Izuku closed his eyes again, a small smile lingering on his lips as sleep pulled him back under.

Izuku jolted awake as the cold sensation of a drink pressed against his neck sent a shiver through his spine. His eyes fluttered open to find Toga sitting on his lap, a mischievous grin spreading across her face as she held up a chilled can of soda.

"What's wrong, sleepy broccoli?" she teased, her golden eyes sparkling with amusement. "You looked so exhausted. Feeling a little better now?"

Izuku rubbed his eyes and stretched, a small smile tugging at his lips. "Yeah, I think a few hours of sleep helped. Thanks, Toga."

She leaned in, her lips brushing his cheek before she kissed him lightly. "You know," she began, her tone playful but with a hint of seriousness, "you and Pinky got to go on a date. But I didn't. So… when's my turn for a little one-on-one time?"

He smiled warmly, leaning closer to kiss her softly on the lips. "Soon. Definitely soon. I promise," he murmured, pulling her into a tight hug. "We'll have a proper date in a few days. Just you and me, all day."

Her giggle was light and infectious as she kissed him back, this time pressing her lips firmly against his. She left a faint trail of lipstick smudges across his face as she leaned back and kissed him again, then again, each time more insistent. Her hands roamed lightly over his chest as she pushed herself closer, her energy radiating into him.

Izuku chuckled between kisses, his breath catching slightly. "You're feisty, you know that?" he teased, his hands trailing along her sides. "But I like that."

Before Toga could respond, Izuku suddenly flipped her onto the bean bag chair, smirking down at her. "Let's see who wins this time," he said playfully, kissing her again. His lips moved to her neck, eliciting a gasp from her as his hands roamed to her hips, squeezing slightly.

Toga's laugh turned into a delighted squeal, but before they could lose themselves further, Mei's voice cut through the moment.

"Hey!" she called from across the room. "Do I have to do something about these destroyed crates, or—?"

Izuku froze, his hands still resting on Toga's sides as he turned to look at Mei. She stood near the pile of shattered crates, her hands on her hips and her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"Oh, yeah, uh… that was me," Izuku said awkwardly, sitting up. "I was sparring with Rumi earlier, and things got a little out of hand. I… kinda slipped and, well… they didn't survive."

Mei raised an eyebrow, clearly not convinced. "Are you covering for her?" she asked, her voice sharp as her gaze bore into him.

Izuku's heart skipped a beat. "What? No! Trust me, Mei, I'm not covering for her!" he said, a nervous chuckle escaping him. "You do trust me, right?"

She stared at him for a long moment, her piercing gaze making him sweat slightly. Finally, she sighed. "I do," she said, though her tone still carried a note of skepticism. Then, as if deciding to change the subject entirely, she pulled a tube of lipstick from her pocket and applied it with precise care.

Before Izuku could process what she was doing, Mei leaned down and kissed him firmly on the lips. She leaned back with a satisfied grin, leaving a fresh mark of bright pink lipstick on his face. "Just wanted to make sure I got my kisses in too," she said with a smirk.

Izuku's face turned crimson as Mei stepped back and pulled out her phone, snapping a quick photo of him before he could react.

"Wait, what are you gonna do with that?" he asked, his voice rising in alarm.

Mei glanced at the picture on her phone, chuckling to herself. "Oh, you'll see. I'm thinking… a custom T-shirt? Maybe a mug. Could be fun."

With that, she turned and walked away, leaving Izuku groaning in embarrassment.

"Why me?" he muttered, slumping back onto the bean bag chair.

Toga, who had been watching the entire exchange with gleeful amusement, wrapped her arms around him from behind and pulled him down. "Forget her," she whispered, her voice soft and teasing as she pressed a kiss to his cheek. "Just focus on us right now."

He smiled, his hands finding hers as he tilted his head to rest against her. "Of course," he said quietly, his voice warm and sincere. "You're all that matters right now."

As she cuddled into him, he whispered sweet nothings into her ear, their world shrinking to just the two of them amidst the quiet chaos of their makeshift home.

Izuku shifted slightly in Toga's embrace, his fingers interlacing with hers as she rested her chin on his shoulder. He felt her playful energy bubbling beneath the surface, even as she held him close. The warmth of the moment was calming, but he knew Toga well enough to know she couldn't stay still for long.

"You know," Toga began, her voice teasing, "if you keep letting Mei mark you up like that, people are gonna think you're a walking canvas for lipstick art."

Izuku chuckled, glancing at the faint smudges on his face in the reflection of the TV screen. "I think it's already too late for that," he admitted with a grin. "Between you and Mei, I'm pretty sure I could open an art gallery."

Toga giggled, poking his cheek. "Don't tempt me. I'll make sure you're a masterpiece by the end of the week. I'll call it 'Broccoli in Bloom.'"

He laughed, the sound light and genuine. "Oh, great. I can see it now—people lining up to see the 'broccoli boy' covered in abstract lipstick patterns."

Toga pulled back slightly, her golden eyes gleaming mischievously. "You'd be famous. Think of all the fans! They'd call you the Lipstick Legend."

Izuku smirked, leaning into her teasing. "And you'd be my artistic manager, right? Making sure the colors match and everything?"

"Of course," she said proudly. "But don't forget—artists need inspiration. So, you'd owe me a lot of dates to keep my creativity flowing."

Izuku laughed again, shaking his head. "You're relentless."

"And you love it," Toga shot back, sticking her tongue out playfully.

He couldn't help but smile at her antics, the tension from earlier melting away as they bantered back and forth. She had a way of drawing him out of his worries, grounding him in the present moment. He reached up, brushing a stray strand of her blonde hair out of her face.

"Hey," he said softly, his tone shifting. "Thanks, Toga. For… you know, being you."

Her teasing demeanor faltered for a moment as she looked at him, her expression softening. "What do you mean?"

"I mean," he began, searching for the right words, "you've always been here. Even when things got crazy or when I didn't know what I was doing, you were just… there. You didn't ask for anything, and you've always had my back."

Toga's cheeks flushed faintly, and she glanced away, her fingers fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. "Well, yeah," she said quietly. "That's what you do for people you… care about."

He tilted his head, studying her for a moment before reaching out to gently take her hand. "You've been a rock for me, even when I didn't realize it. And I just… I want you to know how much that means to me."

Her eyes flicked back to his, wide and vulnerable. "Izuku…" she murmured, her voice almost a whisper.

"I'm serious," he continued, giving her hand a small squeeze. "You've helped me more than you know. And I don't say it enough, but I really appreciate you."

Toga blinked rapidly, her emotions bubbling to the surface as a wide smile broke across her face. "You're such a sap, you know that?"

"Maybe," he admitted with a grin. "But I mean every word."

She leaned forward, pressing her forehead against his. "You're not getting rid of me, you know. You're stuck with me."

He chuckled, his green eyes meeting hers. "I wouldn't have it any other way."

Toga giggled softly, pulling him into a tight hug. They stayed like that for a moment, the playful teasing giving way to a warm, unspoken understanding. She pulled back slightly, her mischievous smile returning.

"Okay, but seriously," she said, her tone light again, "you're still my canvas. Tomorrow, I'm testing out a new shade of red on you."

He groaned, rolling his eyes. "Of course you are."

They both burst into laughter, the room filling with the sound of their shared joy. It was a moment of connection—simple, honest, and exactly what they both needed.

As the laughter between Izuku and Toga began to die down, the sound of Mei's boots echoed through the room. She strode in, her pink hair tied back and a smudge of grease already streaking her cheek. Her eyes were bright with excitement, and she was holding a sketchpad filled with intricate diagrams.

"There you are!" Mei said, grinning as she approached them. "Izuku, I've got a brand-new project, and you're perfect for helping me out!"

Izuku raised an eyebrow, still recovering from Toga's teasing. "A new project? What are you working on this time?"

Mei's grin widened as she plopped down beside them, flipping open her sketchpad to reveal a design. "I'm trying to reverse-engineer your kinetic gauntlets and integrate them into boots! Imagine—kinetic energy not just for your punches, but for enhanced jumps, speed, and mid-air maneuvers. We could call them… kinetic boots!"

Toga tilted her head, her golden eyes glimmering with curiosity. "Sounds fancy. What do you need broccoli boy for?"

Mei waved her hand excitedly. "I need his input since he's been using the gauntlets. Plus, he's my guinea pig! Who else can test these out better than him?"

Izuku chuckled, sitting up straighter. "Alright, I'll help. What's the plan?"

Mei beamed, grabbing his hand and pulling him toward the workbench. "Come on! We've got to test some designs and calibrate the energy transfer systems. It's going to be amazing!"

Toga stood, following them with a playful bounce in her step. "I'll tag along. I want to see this. Plus, someone has to make sure you two don't blow up the warehouse."

Mei grinned at her. "Deal. But only if you promise to give us lots of cute comments while we work."

Toga smirked. "Oh, don't worry. I'm great at that."

The three of them settled at the workbench. Mei immediately started pulling out tools, components, and several half-finished prototypes of the boots. Izuku grabbed a pair of gloves to handle the delicate wiring, and Toga leaned on the edge of the table, watching them work with a small smile.

"So," Mei began, holding up one of the boots, "the idea is to store kinetic energy in these pods here, like the gauntlets, but with an added focus on shock absorption. That way, every step you take stores energy without blowing your legs off."

"Good plan," Izuku said, examining the design. "But you'll need to reinforce the ankle joints. Otherwise, the impact might cause strain over time."

"Exactly!" Mei said, pointing at him with a wrench. "That's why I need you. You notice these little details."

Toga giggled. "Aww, look at you two, all smart and science-y. It's adorable."

Izuku glanced at her, his face slightly red. "It's not that big a deal."

"It's a huge deal," Mei said, elbowing him lightly. "He's my favorite assistant."

"More like your only assistant," Toga teased, earning a laugh from all three of them.

As the hours passed, the trio worked together to refine the design. Izuku helped Mei adjust the wiring and balance the energy storage pods, while Toga chimed in with amusing commentary.

"Isn't this basically just turning him into a rocket-powered frog?" Toga said at one point, her grin widening. "You're making him hop around like crazy, right?"

Mei laughed, shaking her head. "No! It's about controlled propulsion, not hopping. But now that you mention it… we could add a crouch-boost function."

"See? I'm helping!" Toga said proudly.

Izuku chuckled, shaking his head as he carefully connected a wire. "You're definitely keeping the mood light, that's for sure."

After several hours of adjustments and brainstorming, the first prototype of the kinetic boots was complete. Mei handed them to Izuku with a look of triumph.

"Alright, broccoli boy," she said, her voice brimming with excitement. "Suit up. Let's see what these babies can do."

Izuku put on the boots, feeling the snug fit as Mei adjusted the straps and powered them on. A faint hum resonated from the energy pods, and the HUD in his gauntlets synced with the boots, displaying energy levels and pressure feedback.

"Okay, try a light jump first," Mei instructed, stepping back.

Izuku crouched slightly and pushed off. The boots absorbed the energy, then propelled him upward with a controlled burst. He landed smoothly, a wide grin spreading across his face.

"These are amazing, Mei!" he said, testing another jump. "The balance is perfect, and the propulsion feels natural."

Toga clapped her hands. "Look at him go! My little broccoli rocket."

Mei chuckled. "This is just the beginning. We can add so much more to these—shockwave kicks, extended airtime, even stealth functions for quieter landings."

As they brainstormed more features, the sense of camaraderie between the three of them deepened. Despite the chaos of their lives, moments like this reminded them of why they worked so well together.

Toga leaned against Izuku as he tinkered with the boots , her eyes soft. "You're not just making gadgets, you know. You're building something bigger. Something amazing."

Izuku glanced at her, then at Mei, who was beaming with pride. "Yeah," he said quietly, a small smile tugging at his lips. "We really are."

The testing of the kinetic boots continued, with Mei furiously taking notes on a tablet while Izuku performed increasingly ambitious moves. Each jump and burst of propulsion sent him higher and farther, the energy pods whirring with mechanical precision.

"Okay, try a forward leap with a mid-air spin!" Mei called out, her voice crackling with excitement. "We need to test the agility metrics!"

Izuku crouched low, activating the propulsion system with a flick of his hand. The boots powered him forward in a smooth arc, and he twisted mid-air, landing flawlessly on the far end of the warehouse. He glanced at the HUD in his gauntlets, the energy levels holding steady.

"Not bad," he said, jogging back to the starting point. "The energy flow is consistent, and the balance feels solid."

Toga clapped enthusiastically, her golden eyes wide with delight. "Look at you! Rocketing around like a superhero. You're gonna make everyone jealous."

"Alright," Mei said, adjusting her goggles as she leaned over the console monitoring the boots' performance. "Let's push it further. Double burst—jump, then activate mid-air to get higher."

Izuku hesitated, his green eyes narrowing at the boots. "Are you sure they're ready for that? It might overload the system."

"That's why we test!" Mei replied with a grin, clearly unfazed. "If something breaks, we'll just fix it. No big deal!"

Toga leaned toward Izuku, smirking. "Famous last words, broccoli boy. Don't break your legs."

With a deep breath, Izuku activated the boots again, propelling himself upward. The first burst sent him soaring, and he activated the second in mid-air. For a moment, it seemed perfect—he climbed higher than before, twisting gracefully.

Then, a sudden jolt shot through the boots. The hum of the energy pods turned into a sputtering whine. Sparks flew from the mechanisms, and one of the pods detached mid-air, spinning off and crashing to the floor.

"Uh-oh," Izuku muttered, his descent now uncontrolled. He braced himself, landing awkwardly and rolling to absorb the impact. One of the boots buckled under the strain, and a small explosion of smoke and sparks erupted from it.

Mei's tablet beeped loudly with error notifications. She rushed to Izuku, her hands already reaching for the damaged boot. "What happened? Did the energy conduit fail? Did the stabilizers misalign? Oh no, was it the pressure coil?"

Izuku coughed, waving away the smoke as he sat up. "I think it overheated when I activated the second burst. The energy transfer couldn't keep up."

Mei frowned, inspecting the smoldering boot. "Darn it! I thought the cooling system could handle that much power. We'll have to reinforce the heat sinks and maybe recalibrate the conduits for better flow."

Toga knelt beside Izuku, her hands gently brushing soot off his face. "You okay? You didn't break anything, did you?"

"I'm fine," Izuku assured her, wincing slightly as he stretched his legs. "But I think the boots need a little more work before they're ready for full-scale testing."

"'A little more work' is an understatement," Mei muttered, pulling the damaged boot off his foot. She turned it over in her hands, her eyes gleaming with determination despite the setback. "This is good. We learned something! Failure is just another step toward perfection."

Toga raised an eyebrow, smirking. "You sound way too happy about your boyfriend almost face-planting into the floor."

Mei shrugged, grinning. "That's how you make progress! Besides, he's fine. Aren't you, Izuku?"

"Totally fine," he said, though his voice carried a hint of exhaustion. "But maybe we ease up on the stress tests for a bit?"

Mei nodded, her mind already racing with adjustments and improvements. "You're right. I'll reinforce the conduits, add extra cooling systems, and maybe tweak the energy pod alignment. We'll get it right next time."

As Mei rattled off her ideas, Izuku and Toga exchanged a glance. Despite the malfunction, neither of them could deny the excitement in the room. This was what they did, pushing limits, learning from mistakes, and building something extraordinary.

Izuku smiled as he stood, stretching his legs. "Alright. Let's get back to work. We've got a lot to do."

Toga leaned against the workbench, watching them with an amused expression. "You two are unstoppable, you know that? Just try not to blow up the warehouse next time."

Mei gave her a thumbs-up, already scribbling notes on her tablet. "No promises!"

And with that, the trio dove back into their work, undeterred by the setback and more determined than ever to create something incredible.

The next day after school

Izuku was heading home after a long day at school, his thoughts preoccupied with tweaking the design for Mei's kinetic boots. The sound of hurried footsteps behind him broke his concentration. He turned to see Neito Monoma approaching, his face serious and his hands shoved into his pockets.

"Hey, Midoriya," Neito called, his tone unusually sharp. "Got a minute?"

Izuku blinked, surprised by the directness. "Uh, sure. What's up?"

Neito glanced around to make sure no one was nearby before stepping closer. "Look, I'm going to get straight to the point. Are you Yakuza?"

Izuku froze, his green eyes wide in shock. "What? Yakuza? No! Where is this coming from?"

Neito crossed his arms, his golden eyes narrowing. "Don't play dumb. That outfit you wear—screams Yakuza. The way you carry yourself sometimes, all calm and calculating—it's suspicious. And don't even get me started on the people you hang out with."

Izuku ran a hand through his hair, sighing heavily. "Okay, first of all, the outfit is just cosplay. It's not Yakuza. It's a style. Mei designed it for fun."

Neito didn't look convinced. "And the gun Mei brought to school? Care to explain that? People don't just bring firearms unless they're up to something shady."

Izuku shook his head, his voice calm but firm. "That wasn't a real gun. It's a prop. Mei uses stuff like that to set up performances or demonstrations. She's an inventor, not a criminal."

Neito snorted, his arms tightening across his chest. "And I'm supposed to believe that Toga walking around talking about 'disposing' of people is part of your 'cosplay' too?"

Izuku felt his frustration rising, but he kept his tone even. "Yes, it is. Toga gets into character when she cosplays. She's not actually out here hurting anyone. Trust me, it's all for fun. No one's in danger."

Neito leaned closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "What about the bunny girl? You expect me to believe someone who fights like that is just an innocent houseguest? She moves like she's been in a hundred battles—and enjoys every second of it."

Izuku sighed again, rubbing his temples. "Rumi's… complicated. But she's not Yakuza, and neither am I. She's a battle junkie, sure, but that's just who she is. She likes fighting. It doesn't mean she's tied to some criminal organization."

Neito narrowed his eyes, studying Izuku's face as if searching for any hint of deception. "You really expect me to believe all of this? That you're just a normal guy, hanging out with a walking arsenal, a fight-obsessed bunny girl, and a fox-eared cosplayer who talks about disposing of bodies? It doesn't add up."

Izuku met Neito's gaze, his voice steady. "I know it sounds crazy, but it's the truth. I'm just a normal guy who got lucky finding people who care about me. None of us are criminals. We're just… different."

Neito hesitated, his posture relaxing slightly. "If that's the case, then why does it feel like you're hiding something? I'm not trying to get you in trouble. I just need to know if you can help me."

Izuku tilted his head, confusion evident in his expression. "Help you? With what?"

Neito looked away, his voice quieter now. "There's this… situation. Some people I care about might be in trouble because of Yakuza loans. I thought maybe you had connections or knew someone who could help. But if you're just 'cosplaying,' then…"

Izuku softened, stepping closer. "Neito, if someone's in trouble, I'll do whatever I can to help. You don't need to assume the worst about me to ask for help."

Neito looked at him, conflicted. "I don't know if I can trust you, Midoriya. But I guess I don't have much choice."

"Trust is earned," Izuku said gently. "I get that. But I promise you, I'm not Yakuza. I'll help however I can. Just tell me what's going on."

Neito studied him for a long moment before nodding slowly. "Fine. But if I find out you're lying…" He trailed off, leaving the threat unspoken.

Izuku offered a small, reassuring smile. "You won't. Let's figure this out together."

Neito shifted uncomfortably, his hands shoved deep into his pockets. "Alright, so… there's this fight club or battle pit, or whatever they call it. I don't know the exact name. People fight for money, and my friend's been involved. They've been fighting in these pits."

Izuku raised an eyebrow. "You mean illegal fights."

Neito rolled his eyes, exhaling sharply. "Yes, illegal fights. My friend's been doing it to earn money. I don't know all the details, but… I'm scared, okay? I don't know what to do, and I thought you could help. But you're not Yakuza, so that's off the table. But you're still offering help, which I appreciate. I really do. Honestly, being vulnerable like this isn't exactly comfortable for me."

Izuku patted Neito on the shoulder, his tone light. "It's fine. I get it. Normally, you're the guy spreading rumors behind people's backs or talking trash to instigate reactions because you've got nothing better to do with your sad, pathetic life."

Neito turned to him, eyes narrowing. "That kind of hurt," he snapped. "You know, you're not exactly a ray of sunshine either, broccoli boy."

Izuku smirked faintly. "The truth does that sometimes. Anyway, back on topic. Can you tell me your friend's name?"

Neito shook his head firmly. "No, I can't. If word gets out about this, their career could be over. And… well, I don't trust you yet."

Izuku sighed, crossing his arms. "I get it. You don't trust me. But you're still asking for my help, which means I need more to go on than just 'my friend is fighting.' Like, how does this work? What's going on? When's the next fight?"

Neito looked away, clearly struggling to answer. "I just know there's a fight in a few days. Apparently, it's more dangerous than the others. I'm scared they're not going to make it through. But…" He hesitated, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "I thought about calling the cops on the whole thing, but that might screw them over. They need the money."

Izuku's expression softened as he studied Neito's conflicted face. "I get it," he said gently. "You're worried about them, but you don't want to betray their trust. Still, putting their life at risk isn't the answer."

Neito's hands clenched into fists at his sides. "I know that! I know. But what am I supposed to do? If I call the cops, they'll hate me. But if I don't… what if something happens to them?"

Izuku placed a hand on Neito's shoulder again, his voice calm but firm. "You already know what you need to do. Call the cops. It's the most sensible choice. They might hate you for it at first, but you'll be saving their life. Isn't that what really matters?"

Neito looked down, his shoulders slumping. "You're right. You're totally right. I just… I don't want them to hate me."

"They'll get over it," Izuku said with a reassuring smile. "And when they do, they'll realize you were looking out for them."

Neito exhaled slowly, nodding. "Thanks, broccoli boy. I guess you're not so bad after all."

Izuku chuckled. "Don't mention it. Just make the right call, okay?"

Neito nodded again before turning and walking away, his footsteps heavy but resolute. Izuku watched him go, a faint smile on his face. He knew it wasn't an easy decision, but Neito was doing what he had to do—and that made all the difference.

Neito sat in his dimly lit room, staring at his phone as though it weighed a hundred pounds. The fight was tomorrow. He had told Izuku it would be in a few days, buying time for himself to figure out what to do. Now that the moment was closing in, the pressure was suffocating.

If I call the cops, he thought, the whole thing could blow up. The restaurant could go under, and if the Yakuza retaliate… He clenched his fists. They could hurt her family. But if I don't do anything, she'll definitely get hurt. Or worse.

His teeth ground together, his thoughts spiraling. "Damn it," he growled. "Why couldn't the fucking broccoli boy actually be some gangster with connections instead of a cosplay nerd? God, he's so useless!"

He threw his phone onto the bed and screamed into his hands, frustration clawing at his chest. But as soon as the words left his mouth, a wave of guilt washed over him. He slumped forward. "It's not his fault," he muttered to himself. "What am I even thinking? Ahhhhh!" He screamed again, this time more out of helplessness than anger. "What can I do? Think, think, think…"

His phone buzzed slightly as it shifted on the bed, and he grabbed it without thinking. Before he could second-guess himself, he dialed Itsuka's number.

Her voice came through after the second ring, calm but tired. "Hey, Neito. What's going on? What do you need?"

His throat tightened, and for a moment, he couldn't speak. He swallowed hard, forcing the words out. "I know about tomorrow," he said quietly. "The fight. I know what's going on. I… I don't want you to go. Please. Promise me you won't go."

There was a long pause, and Neito could hear her breathing on the other end of the line. Then, her voice came back, firm but strained. "No. I can't promise that, Neito. I need the money. For my family."

Neito's hands gripped the phone tightly, his voice rising. "Itsuka, you can't do this! If you don't call it off, you could get hurt—"

"And if I don't go, my family will be on the streets!" she screamed back, her voice cracking with emotion. "Do you understand? I have to do this! It's not like I want to, okay? I don't want to go into that pit and fight for money, but I don't have a choice."

Her voice wavered, and Neito could hear her tears through the line. "Do you know what it's like? Watching your parents work themselves to the bone and still not be able to keep the lights on? Seeing them break down and cry because they don't know how to pay the bills? Do you think I want this life? Do you think I don't know the risks? That I don't think about what could happen to me every single time I step into that ring?"

Her words hit him like a truck, and his own anger evaporated, replaced by an aching sadness. "Itsuka, I get it. I do. But you're talking about putting your life on the line. What happens if someone goes too far? What happens if—"

"Do you think I haven't thought about that?" she interrupted, her voice breaking. "Do you think I don't know what could happen? But this is my choice. This is what I have to do for my family. That's what a hero does, right? They put others before themselves. That's what my dream is."

Her sobs grew louder as she continued, her words pouring out like a flood. "You don't know what I've been through, Neito. How many nights I've gone to bed hungry, knowing my parents didn't eat either. How many normal things I've had to give up just so I could help them. You don't know what it's like to see them suffer and feel so powerless to stop it."

Neito's throat tightened, and he couldn't bring himself to speak. He listened as she cried on the other end, his heart breaking with every word.

"Please," she whispered finally, her voice hoarse. "I need to save them. I can't let them get hurt. You promised me, remember? You promised you wouldn't tell anyone. You promised you wouldn't do anything."

Neito swallowed hard, his hands trembling. "Yes," he said quietly. "I promise. I won't tell anyone. I won't do anything."

The line went silent for a moment before she replied, her voice soft and defeated. "Thank you, Neito."

She hung up, leaving him alone with his thoughts. Neito dropped the phone onto his desk and buried his face in his hands, his emotions a whirlwind of guilt, frustration, and helplessness. He had promised her, but every instinct in his body told him to act. To do something.

His mind raced as he sat there, torn between his promise and the looming fear of what might happen tomorrow.

Neito sat on his bed, the dim light of his desk lamp casting shadows across his room. His phone rested in his hand, the number for the police still pulled up on the screen. It was so simple—just one press, and the nightmare could be over. Itsuka wouldn't have to fight tomorrow. She wouldn't have to put herself in danger.

But her family… He gritted his teeth, his hand trembling as he stared at the phone. If he made the call, everything Itsuka was fighting for would crumble. Her parents would lose the business, the debt collectors could retaliate, and the pain she'd endured so far would feel meaningless. She would hate him—no, despise him—for betraying her trust. And yet, wasn't saving her life more important?

He replayed her words in his mind: "You promised me." The raw emotion in her voice, the way her sobs had broken through the phone, hit him like a sledgehammer. She was desperate, and despite his frustrations, he understood why.

With a frustrated growl, Neito turned off his phone and slammed it down on the desk. He couldn't do it. He couldn't betray her like that. Her pain, her tears, her resolve—it was all too much for him to ignore. The thought of her broken trust loomed larger than his own sense of right and wrong.

Neito slumped back on his bed, staring at the ceiling as his thoughts churned. His fists clenched as he let out a muffled scream of anger into his pillow. He hated feeling so powerless. He hated that he couldn't find a solution where everyone won. Exhaustion eventually overtook him, and he fell into a restless sleep.

The next morning, Neito woke up with a sour pit in his stomach. The memory of the phone call lingered, and he felt no closer to a solution. As he walked through the halls of school, his gaze drifted toward Itsuka. She moved with her usual confidence, but Neito could see the strain behind her eyes, the exhaustion in her posture.

Every time he tried to approach her, she brushed him off.

"I don't want to talk about it, Neito," she said flatly, walking past him.

"But—"

"I said, drop it," she snapped, her voice sharper than usual. Her eyes darted away from his, as if she couldn't bear to face him. He noticed how tightly she gripped her bag, her knuckles white against the fabric.

He watched her go, the weight in his chest growing heavier. The hurt in her eyes told him everything he needed to know. She was terrified, but she wouldn't back down. No matter how much it hurt her, no matter how much danger she was in, she had made her decision.

Lunchtime

The bell had rung for lunch, but Neito wasn't eating. He had been eyeing Itsuka for the past ten minutes as she sat quietly, picking at her food. She wasn't talking to anyone, her usual spark dimmed, and the exhaustion behind her eyes was impossible to miss.

Neito clenched his fists and finally stood up, walking over to her table. "Itsuka," he said, his voice tense. "We need to talk. Alone."

She looked up at him, her brows furrowing. "Neito, I already told you—"

"No," he interrupted, his tone sharper than usual. "Not here. Come on."

She sighed but stood, following him up to the rooftop. The air was cool, and the distant hum of the city filled the silence between them. Itsuka leaned against the railing, crossing her arms as she waited for him to speak.

"What is it now?" she asked, her voice tinged with impatience.

Neito's frustration boiled over. "You're being an idiot!" he shouted, his voice echoing across the rooftop. "You're not thinking rationally at all! You're putting a stupid band-aid on a problem that needs surgery, Itsuka! This isn't fixing anything—it's just going to make things worse!"

Her eyes widened at his outburst, but before she could respond, he continued, tears beginning to streak his face. "Don't you get it? I don't want to lose you! You're more than just a friend to me! You've always been there for me, Itsuka. Every time I ran my stupid mouth and got myself in trouble, you were the one who pulled me out. You comforted me when no one else would. You always stood by me, no matter what."

He stepped closer, grabbing her shoulders. "Please don't do this. Please don't go."

Itsuka stared at him, her expression wavering between anger and sadness. "And what choice do I have, Neito?" she snapped, breaking free from his grip. "If I don't go, what happens? My family gets hurt! They lose everything because of me. I can't let that happen."

Neito's voice cracked as he shouted back, "It's not your responsibility! You're just a kid, Itsuka! If your parents made mistakes, that's not on you. If they borrowed money from the wrong people, that's not your fault!"

Her fist flew before he could finish. It connected with his face, and he staggered backward, blood pouring from his nose as he fell to the ground. His vision blurred as pain shot through him, but her words hit harder than the punch ever could.

"It is my responsibility!" she screamed, tears streaming down her face. "If I see someone in pain, if I see someone who needs help, I have to help them. That's who I am, Neito! That's who I've always been! How could you not understand that?"

She knelt down, grabbing his collar and pulling him close. Her voice broke as she yelled, "Do you think this is what I want? Do you think I want to risk my life? But what kind of person would I be if I turned my back on them? On my family?"

Neito stared at her, his own tears mixing with the blood from his broken nose. "What about your life, Itsuka? What about your dreams? Your goals? Are those just thrown away? Forgotten?" He pushed himself to his feet, pointing at her and jabbing his finger into her chest. "You could be a great hero. You could change the world. But instead, you're throwing it all away for this! For one fight, one payday that won't even solve the problem!"

Her lips trembled, her fists clenched at her sides. "I don't want to talk about this anymore," she said quietly, her voice filled with exhaustion. She turned, grabbing her lunch. "Just stay out of it, Neito."

He reached out as if to stop her, but she brushed past him. The sound of the rooftop door slamming shut echoed behind her as she left.

Neito stood there, frozen. The wind bit at his face, drying the blood that dripped from his nose. Slowly, he fell to his knees, his fists trembling before slamming into the concrete.

"Why?" he shouted, his voice hoarse. "Why won't you let me help you? Why won't you see that I just want to protect you?"

He slammed his fists again and again, the pain in his knuckles barely registering as blood began to smear across the ground. Tears blurred his vision as he cried, his sobs swallowed by the empty rooftop.

"I can't save her," he whispered, his voice cracking. "What am I supposed to do?"

His shaking hand reached into his pocket, pulling out his phone. He stared at the screen, the number for the police already dialed. His thumb hovered over the call button, his heart pounding in his chest.

One call, he thought. Just one call, and she won't have to fight tomorrow. But… she'll hate me forever. And what about her family? What if this makes everything worse?

His thumb trembled, the weight of the decision crushing him. With a frustrated growl, he dropped the phone onto the ground and curled up, burying his face in his arms.

"I'm sorry, Itsuka," he whispered through his tears. "I just don't know what to do."

Later in the day at night.

Izuku opened the door to find Neito standing outside, nervously shifting from foot to foot. His face was pale, his hands trembling as he clutched a bag.

"Neito?" Izuku asked, his voice laced with confusion. "What are you doing here? It's late."

"I know," Neito said quickly, his voice cracking slightly. "I just… Look, I wanted to thank you for helping me yesterday. Thought I'd take you out, you know? Show you a good time or something. You deserve it."

Izuku raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. "You? Taking me out to thank me? That doesn't sound suspicious at all."

Neito forced a laugh, his voice unsteady. "I swear, no tricks. Just… bring your fancy Yakuza cosplay stuff, alright? Trust me. You'll want to look the part."

Izuku frowned but grabbed his bag containing his Yakuza attire, kinetic boots, and shock gloves. Something about Neito's jittery demeanor told him he'd better come prepared. "Fine. But you're acting weird, and I don't like it."

They walked through the quiet streets, the air thick with tension. Neito barely spoke, his hands clenched into fists as he led the way. Izuku glanced at him a few times, his suspicion growing with every step. When they finally arrived, his stomach dropped.

The building loomed ahead, its worn brick walls and dimly glowing neon signs practically screaming trouble. The muffled roars of a crowd echoed from within, accompanied by the occasional thud of something heavy hitting the ground.

Izuku stopped in his tracks, glaring at Neito. "You brought me to a fight arena? Are you kidding me?"

Neito turned to him, his face filled with desperation. "I had to, alright? Look, you can yell at me later, punch me, whatever. But she—Itsuka—she needs help. If things get out of hand, I'm going to need you to step in."

Izuku's eyes narrowed. "Why me? Why not just call the cops?"

Neito's voice wavered. "Because she doesn't trust the cops. She told me it's supposed to be safe here, that they don't go too far. But if they do… please, man. I'm not strong enough to protect her. But you—you can. You have to."

Izuku clenched his jaw, weighing Neito's words. He sighed heavily, pulling out his phone and texting Mei, Toga, and Rumi. He sent his location and a brief explanation, hoping at least one of them would respond. Rumi, who was on patrol, was the most logical choice for legal backup, but so far, no replies came through.

He looked back at Neito, his face grim. "Fine. But if this goes south, you owe me big time."

Neito exhaled in relief, nodding quickly. "I know. Thank you. Just—thank you."

They walked into the arena, the noise inside growing louder with every step. The air was thick with sweat, smoke, and adrenaline. Men and women crowded around a large pit in the center, shouting and cheering as fighters clashed below. Izuku scanned the room, his eyes immediately locking onto Itsuka. She stood by the edge of the pit, her fists clenched, her face set in determination.

"She's fighting tonight?" Izuku asked, his voice low.

Neito nodded, his hands shaking. "Yeah. The big fight. It's supposed to be dangerous, but she says she has no choice."

Izuku's fists tightened at his sides. "This is insane. What's the plan if it gets out of hand?"

Neito looked at him, his voice barely audible over the noise. "That's why you're here. You're the plan."

Izuku sighed, pulling on his gloves and adjusting his boots. "You'd better hope this doesn't spiral out of control. For everyone's sake."

The waiting room

The waiting room was dimly lit, the hum of the fluorescent lights above doing little to calm Itsuka's nerves. She adjusted her wrestling outfit, her heart pounding so loudly it felt like the whole room could hear it. Her breathing was steady, but the adrenaline coursing through her veins made her feel like a coiled spring, ready to snap at a moment's notice.

Sitting across from her was a woman with an unsettling aura. She had long, sharp fingers that gleamed like polished steel, each one tapering to a deadly point. She leaned forward, resting her chin on her intertwined blade-like fingers as she studied Itsuka with a detached curiosity.

"So," the woman said, her voice smooth and almost teasing. "What's your little game, 'Iron Grappler'? Why are you putting yourself through this?"

Itsuka met her gaze, refusing to look away or show any weakness. "I'm not playing any game," she replied firmly, standing up to stretch. "I'm here to win."

The woman chuckled, a low, melodic sound that didn't match the menace of her appearance. She stood as well, towering slightly over Itsuka. With surprising delicacy, she reached out, placing one of her bladed fingers under Itsuka's chin, tilting it upward. "You're so young," she said, her tone softer now. "You shouldn't be here, fighting people like him." She motioned with a tilt of her head toward the waiting room's entrance, where a low growl echoed faintly. "Do yourself a favor. Walk away before it's too late."

Itsuka stepped back, breaking the contact and shaking her head. "Thanks for your concern," she said, her voice calm but resolute. "But I don't have a choice."

The woman regarded her for a moment, her expression unreadable, before shrugging and turning toward the door. "Your funeral," she said, her voice carrying a hint of pity as she glided away.

Itsuka clenched her fists, trying to shake off the interaction. The faint growling noise grew louder, and she turned toward the source. On the other side of the entrance stood her opponent: Panther Man, or as he liked to call himself, Death Paw. Even from where she stood, she could see the faint sheen of his claws as they extended and retracted. His muscles rippled under his dark, panther-like fur, his feline eyes glowing faintly in the dim light. He was massive, standing nearly eight feet tall, his broad shoulders filling the space of the entrance.

Death Paw caught sight of her and grinned, revealing sharp, white teeth. His voice was a guttural snarl as he called out, "I hope you're ready, little girl. I don't hold back."

Itsuka swallowed hard, feeling her stomach churn, but she didn't flinch. Instead, she stretched her arms, rolling her shoulders as her name was called over the speaker.

"The Iron Grappler!"

The crowd erupted into cheers and jeers, the cacophony of voices vibrating through the walls. Itsuka stepped forward, her legs steady despite the weight of what lay ahead. Her opponent's name followed soon after.

"Death Paw!"

The roar of the crowd intensified as the towering panther-man sauntered toward the arena. The two fighters entered from opposite sides, stepping into the circle under the harsh, white floodlights. Itsuka shielded her eyes briefly, her boots crunching against the dusty ground of the ring. She could feel the heat of the crowd's anticipation, their bloodlust palpable as they leaned over the edge, shouting and cheering.

Death Paw grinned at her from across the ring, his claws clicking against each other as he flexed his fingers. "You look fragile," he said mockingly, his voice loud enough to carry over the noise. "I hope you last more than a minute. I hate when they go down too quickly."

Itsuka ignored him, her focus narrowing as she dropped into her fighting stance. She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, her hands raised and ready to grapple. Her breathing slowed, her body calm even as her mind raced.

The referee, a grizzled man with a scar running down his cheek, stepped into the center of the ring. "This is a death match," he announced, his voice gravelly and devoid of emotion. "Killing is allowed. Anything goes."

Itsuka's stomach tightened. She had heard the rules before, but hearing them again under the glaring lights and with Death Paw's piercing gaze fixed on her made it real. She glanced to the side, catching sight of Izuku and Neito in the crowd.

Izuku's jaw was tight, his green eyes locked on her with an intensity she hadn't seen before. His hands rested on the railing, and she could tell he was ready to intervene if things went south. Neito, on the other hand, looked pale, his lips pressed into a thin line as he fidgeted nervously.

Itsuka took a deep breath, grounding herself. This was her fight. She had made the choice to be here, and she wasn't going to back down. No matter what.

The referee stepped back, raising his arm. "Fighters, ready?"

Death Paw crouched low, his claws extended, his predatory grin widening. Itsuka tightened her fists, her stance solid and unyielding.

"Begin!" shouted the referee, his arm dropping.

The arena erupted into chaos as the fight commenced.

The arena fell silent for a split second as the referee's shout echoed. Then, like the snap of a taut rope, the fight exploded into motion.

Death Paw lunged first, covering the distance between them in two strides. His claws raked through the air toward Itsuka's face, but she sidestepped swiftly, her instincts kicking in. She ducked under his follow-up slash and used the momentum to drive forward, grabbing his wrist with one hand and twisting it with all her strength.

The panther-man let out a guttural snarl as his arm was forced into an awkward angle, but his reflexes were sharp. He used his free hand to swipe at her side, but Itsuka anticipated the move. She twisted her body, bringing her knee up and slamming it into his ribs. A resounding crack echoed, and the crowd erupted in cheers.

"Holy crap, she's holding her own!" Neito exclaimed, gripping the railing so tightly his knuckles turned white.

Izuku, his arms crossed but his jaw tense, nodded. "She's using his momentum against him. Smart. But she can't let him recover."

In the ring, Itsuka pressed her advantage. Using her superior technique, she locked Death Paw's arm and brought her elbow down hard on his shoulder. He roared in pain, stumbling backward, his movements momentarily clumsy.

The crowd surged with excitement as Itsuka charged, delivering a spinning kick to his thigh that buckled his stance. She followed up with a sharp uppercut, her fist connecting squarely with his jaw and snapping his head back. The panther staggered, shaking his head to clear the stars dancing in his vision.

"Damn," Neito muttered, half in awe. "She's actually winning."

"Don't celebrate yet," Izuku said, his voice low. "He's not done."

Death Paw straightened up, his eyes narrowing as a dark grin spread across his face. "You've got some fight in you, little girl," he growled, licking a trickle of blood from his lips. "But let's see how long you last."

He moved faster this time, his claws flashing like blades under the floodlights. Itsuka blocked one swipe with her forearm but winced as the claws grazed her skin. She ducked under another slash, but Death Paw anticipated her movement. He pivoted, using his weight to swing his elbow into her ribs with devastating force.

The impact sent Itsuka sprawling, her breath hitching as pain flared through her side. She scrambled to her feet, but Death Paw was already on her, his claws raking down her shoulder. Blood sprayed across the dusty ground as she cried out, her grip faltering.

"Oh no," Neito whispered, his face pale. "She's losing her rhythm."

Izuku's expression darkened. "She needs to regroup. He's baiting her into rushing."

In the ring, Itsuka tried to push through the pain. She spun low, attempting to sweep Death Paw's legs out from under him, but he leapt gracefully, landing behind her. Before she could react, he grabbed her by the hair, yanking her back and slamming his knee into her stomach.

She gasped, all the air leaving her lungs as she collapsed to the ground. The crowd's cheers turned into a deafening roar, the bloodlust palpable.

"Get up, Itsuka!" Neito shouted, his voice cracking. "Come on, you can do this!"

She staggered to her feet, her vision blurry. Her mind screamed at her to fight, but her body felt sluggish. Death Paw didn't let up. He barreled into her, his claws slashing across her torso. She managed to block one swipe, but the next sent her crashing into the ground again.

Izuku's fists tightened as he leaned forward. "This isn't a fight anymore. It's a slaughter."

Death Paw loomed over Itsuka, his shadow casting her battered form in darkness. "You fought well," he mocked, crouching down to meet her gaze. "But it's over."

Itsuka gritted her teeth, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing her break. With a surge of adrenaline, she lashed out, her fist connecting with his jaw one last time. But it wasn't enough. Death Paw barely flinched as he grabbed her by the neck, lifting her off the ground with ease.

The crowd's cheers turned into frenzied howls as Death Paw tightened his grip, squeezing the life out of her. Itsuka's legs kicked weakly, her hands clawing at his arm in a desperate attempt to free herself.

"Stop it!" Neito shouted, his voice filled with panic. "She's done! She's done!"

Izuku was already moving. He vaulted over the railing, landing on the arena floor with a thunderous crash. The crowd went silent, all eyes turning to the boy in the black Yakuza-inspired outfit, his gloves crackling with kinetic energy.

"That's enough," Izuku said, his voice cold and steady as he stepped forward. "Let her go. Now."

Izuku moved with blinding speed, his boots igniting with stored kinetic energy. His foot connected squarely with Death Paw's groin, releasing a burst of force that sent the massive panther-man stumbling back with a roar of pain. Without missing a beat, Izuku grabbed Itsuka from his grip, turning to Neito.

"Get in here and grab her!" Izuku shouted, his voice sharp with urgency.

Neito hesitated for a split second before leaping into the ring. He scooped up Itsuka, her bruised and battered body trembling as she tried to process what was happening. Izuku's system pinged as he sent both of them an invite.

Itsuka blinked groggily, a faint glow appearing before her eyes. "What… what is this?" she mumbled, barely able to focus.

"Just accept it," Izuku instructed firmly. "We're going to use the trial dungeon to wait this out."

Neito nodded, quickly pressing the glowing notification in front of him. Itsuka, confused but desperate, did the same. But instead of activating, a new notification flashed before all of them.

[Error: Bond levels too low to initiate dungeon.]

Izuku's eyes narrowed, his jaw tightening in frustration. "Of course," he muttered angrily. "Why would it be easy?"

Before he could come up with another plan, Neito's fingertips began to glow faintly with icy energy. "I copied some guy's quirk earlier," he said, stepping forward with a determined look. "Guess I'll have to put it to use."

Neito jumped into the fray, standing protectively over Itsuka. Her breathing was shallow, and she clung weakly to Neito, still too disoriented to move.

Above them, the announcer's voice boomed through the arena. "Looks like we have some new players joining the game! Ladies and gentlemen, let's make this interesting! Two million yen for each of their heads—first come, first served!"

The crowd erupted into cheers, the bloodlust palpable. Fighters in the arena turned their focus to Izuku and Neito, eyes glinting with greed. Izuku knew the odds were stacked against them. If he had to protect both Itsuka and Neito in this chaos, there was a real chance they wouldn't make it out alive.

"Time to get creative," Izuku muttered under his breath. He reached into his coat, pulling out a smoke bomb. With a flick of his wrist, he slammed it into the ground. A plume of thick smoke erupted, covering the arena in an instant. Shouts of confusion echoed through the chaos.

He grabbed two masks from his bag, quickly placing one on Neito and another on Itsuka. The masks shimmered as they activated, altering their facial features and disguising their clothing. "These'll make you blend in," he explained hurriedly. "Act natural, and don't look suspicious."

"Wait—what about you?" Neito asked, his voice muffled behind the mask.

Izuku ignored the question. He grabbed them both by the collars and flung them toward the edge of the arena, sending them tumbling into the crowd. "Run!" he hissed. "I'll handle the rest!"

The smoke began to dissipate as one of the spectators unleashed a gust of wind, revealing Izuku standing alone in the center of the arena. He wasn't in a fighting stance, but rather casually stretching, rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck. His nonchalance was jarring against the rising tension in the room.

"Just me now," Izuku said, his voice calm but carrying a razor-sharp edge. He reached into his pocket, pulling out a pair of glasses and a small, unlit cigar. Sliding the glasses onto his face, he lit the cigar, taking a slow drag before exhaling a cloud of smoke.

The fighters surrounding him tensed, their predatory instincts kicking in. Izuku spread his arms wide, smirking faintly. "What are you waiting for?" he taunted. "Let's get started."

Ten fighters stepped forward, their quirks sparking to life. One man's arms turned into massive clubs of rock, another woman's hair lashed out like sharp tendrils. The ground rumbled as a third fighter stomped forward, the earth cracking beneath his feet.

Izuku remained calm, blowing out another puff of smoke. His eyes glinted behind the glasses as he sized up his opponents. "Small fries," he muttered to himself. "Let's see what they've got."

With that, the first fighter charged, swinging his rocky fists with the force of a wrecking ball. Izuku sidestepped effortlessly, planting a kinetic-boosted kick into the man's ribs and sending him crashing into another opponent. The crowd roared as the chaos began.

Izuku stood alone in the ring, his stance loose but deceptively prepared. He rolled his shoulders and adjusted the glasses perched on his nose, taking one last drag of the cigar before flicking it to the ground. The embers hissed as they met the dirt, a fitting prelude to the storm about to unfold.

The first fighter, a hulking man with rocky fists, roared as he charged forward. His massive arm swung toward Izuku's head like a sledgehammer. Izuku ducked low, feeling the rush of air as the blow narrowly missed. Without hesitation, he launched upward, his right fist glowing faintly with kinetic energy. The punch connected with the man's ribs, a sickening crack echoing as the force sent the brute careening into another fighter.

Izuku landed lightly on his feet, already spinning to face the next threat. A woman with tendrils of razor-sharp hair lashed out at him, the strands slicing through the air with deadly precision. He raised his left arm, the shock gauntlet sparking to life as he deflected the hair with a well-timed block. Sparks flew, the electricity sizzling through the strands and forcing the woman to recoil. Izuku used the opening to dart forward, his knee driving into her stomach. She crumpled with a gasp, falling to the ground clutching her midsection.

Another fighter came at him from behind, a man with spiked protrusions jutting from his arms. Izuku didn't turn; instead, he reached for the grappling hook holstered at his hip. With a sharp flick, he fired the hook backward, the metal claw catching the man's shoulder and yanking him off balance. Izuku spun, the cable retracting as he pulled the man toward him. In one fluid motion, he drove his elbow into the man's jaw, a loud crack signaling the end of the encounter as the fighter crumpled to the dirt.

The crowd erupted into cheers and jeers, their bloodlust palpable. Izuku's chest rose and fell rapidly as he surveyed the remaining fighters. His fists clenched, blood dripping from a shallow cut on his forearm where one of the tendrils had nicked him earlier.

"Come on," he muttered, his voice low but carrying over the din. "I don't have all night."

Two fighters rushed him simultaneously, a woman wielding electrified batons and a man with limbs that stretched unnaturally long. The batons came at him first, crackling with energy as she swung for his head. Izuku ducked and countered with a psychic limb—translucent and glowing—wrapping around his arm to extend his reach. His punch connected with her chest, sending her sprawling backward. The psychic limb dissipated as quickly as it appeared, and Izuku turned his focus to the second attacker.

The man's elongated arms coiled toward him like snakes. Izuku sidestepped one, slapping it away with his gauntlet. The second arm wrapped around his waist, squeezing tightly. He grunted in pain, the pressure bruising his ribs. Gritting his teeth, he activated the taser pellets hidden in his belt. He pressed one against the arm constricting him, electricity surging through the attacker's body. The man howled in pain, his grip loosening just enough for Izuku to twist free.

Izuku drove his heel into the man's knee with his kinetic boot, the stored energy releasing with a deafening boom. The man's leg snapped backward, the sound of bone breaking eliciting a collective gasp from the crowd. Blood sprayed as the man collapsed, clutching his ruined limb.

Izuku staggered, his breath ragged. A trickle of blood dripped from his temple, running down the side of his face. His chest ached where the elongated arm had constricted him, but he pushed the pain aside. Another fighter—a woman whose fists were encased in glowing red energy—lunged at him, her punches rapid and unrelenting.

He dodged the first strike, weaving to the left, but the second punch grazed his shoulder, sending a fiery jolt through his body. He hissed, pivoting to avoid the third blow. His psychic enhancement flared to life, wrapping his legs and arms with faint energy. He countered with a spinning kick, the kinetic energy in his boots amplifying the strike. His foot slammed into her side, sending her skidding across the dirt.

Just as he landed, another fighter—a burly man with metallic skin—slammed a fist into Izuku's ribs. He grunted, the impact knocking him off balance and forcing him to stumble. The man pressed his advantage, delivering a powerful uppercut to Izuku's chin. Blood sprayed from Izuku's mouth as he staggered backward, his vision swimming for a moment.

The crowd roared in approval as Izuku wiped the blood from his lips, his expression darkening. "Alright," he muttered, his voice a low growl. "No more holding back."

He activated Flurry of Blows, his fists becoming a blur as he closed the distance. The metallic fighter barely had time to react before Izuku's punches rained down on him. Each strike was enhanced by kinetic energy and psychic augmentation, the combined force enough to crack the man's metallic coating. With a final uppercut, Izuku sent him crashing into the dirt, unmoving.

Izuku stood in the center of the ring, his chest heaving, his body battered and bloodied. His arms hung limply at his sides, but his gaze remained sharp. The remaining fighters hesitated, their confidence shaken.

"Who's next?" Izuku asked, his voice cutting through the cacophony.

The crowd fell silent for a moment, the fighters exchanging uncertain glances. Then, slowly, one by one, they stepped back, unwilling to face the storm head-on. Izuku smirked, blood dripping from his split lip.

"That's what I thought."

Izuku stood in the center of the ring, bloodied and battered, but his resolve burned fiercely in his eyes. The crowd's roar grew deafening as the announcer's voice cut through the chaos, delivering a chilling proclamation.

"Special attention to the four fighters in the original bracket! Kill the broccoli boy, and the reward doubles! That's 20 million yen to the winner!"

The promise of such wealth ignited a frenzy. Four fighters burst into the arena, each radiating a dangerous aura. These were no mere brawlers—they moved with the precision and confidence of seasoned killers. Izuku's blood chilled as he assessed them: the Lady of Blades, her fingers glinting with razor-sharp edges; a man with fluid water hands that coiled and lashed like living whips; a hulking man made of jagged rock, his arms bristling with deadly spikes; and the frozen fist fighter, his hands encased in glowing frost that crackled ominously.

Izuku spat blood onto the dirt, shifting into a defensive stance. His body screamed with pain from the earlier fights, but he forced himself to focus. "Four on one," he muttered to himself. "Just another bad day at the office."

The Lady of Blades struck first, her fingers slashing through the air with lethal speed. Izuku ducked under the swipe, narrowly avoiding decapitation. He countered with a kinetic-boosted punch to her midsection, but her reflexes were sharp. She twisted away, the blow grazing her side. From his flank, the water-handed fighter lunged, his hands morphing into liquid tendrils that wrapped around Izuku's arms and yanked him forward.

Izuku grunted as his balance was thrown off, and before he could recover, the rock fighter charged, slamming his spiked fists into Izuku's torso. The spikes punctured his side, blood spraying onto the ground as the impact sent him flying. He crashed into the dirt, gasping for air as pain radiated through his ribs.

"Come on!" Izuku snarled, forcing himself to his feet. "Is that all you've got?"

The frozen fist fighter didn't wait for an invitation. He dashed forward, his movements quick and calculated. Izuku barely managed to block the first punch, but the frost seeped through his gauntlet, numbing his arm. The second punch caught him in the stomach, the freezing energy spreading like wildfire. Izuku coughed violently, blood staining his lips as he stumbled backward.

The Lady of Blades was on him again, her fingers slashing across his chest. His psychic limb flared to life, catching her wrist mid-strike and twisting it. She hissed in pain, but before Izuku could capitalize, the water-handed fighter lashed out, a stream of high-pressure water slamming into his side and sending him skidding across the ground.

"Damn it," Izuku growled, struggling to his feet. His vision blurred, and his breathing was ragged. Blood dripped from countless cuts and gashes, staining his Yakuza-style outfit a deep crimson. His boots hummed faintly as he channeled kinetic energy into them, preparing for his next move.

The rock fighter charged again, his spiked arms raised for a devastating slam. Izuku activated his boots, dashing to the side just in time to avoid the crushing blow. He retaliated with a spinning kick, the kinetic energy exploding on impact and shattering some of the rock's surface. The fighter grunted, but he barely stumbled, swiping at Izuku with a massive arm that grazed his shoulder, leaving a bloody gash.

From behind, the frozen fist fighter grabbed Izuku's arm, his icy touch burning like fire. Izuku roared in pain, twisting and delivering a desperate elbow to the man's jaw. The strike landed, dazing him for a moment, but the Lady of Blades was relentless. Her fingers slashed across Izuku's back, leaving deep, jagged wounds.

Izuku staggered, his knees threatening to buckle. He fired his grappling hook at the rock fighter, using the retraction to pull himself toward the brute. Channeling every ounce of his strength, he delivered a thunderous knee strike to the fighter's face, the kinetic energy detonating on impact. The man's head snapped back, and he stumbled, but he didn't fall.

The water-handed fighter lashed out again, a concentrated stream of water striking Izuku square in the chest and slamming him into the arena wall. Izuku cried out as the impact rattled the cage.. Blood dripped from his mouth, and his body sagged against the wall, barely able to move.

"This isn't looking good," Izuku muttered through gritted teeth, his vision swimming. The fighters were barely winded, while his body was on the verge of collapse.

The frozen fist fighter approached, his hands glowing with icy power. "You should've stayed down," he sneered, raising his fist for the final blow.

Izuku's mind raced. He activated Stun Strike at the last moment, his gauntlet sparking to life as he caught the punch mid-air. The shock traveled up the frozen fighter's arm, stunning him momentarily. Izuku used the opening to deliver a brutal uppercut, sending the man sprawling.

Before he could catch his breath, the Lady of Blades was on him again, her fingers slashing toward his throat. Izuku ducked, his psychic limb extending to block her follow-up strike, but the effort cost him. The rock fighter blindsided him with a massive punch, the spikes driving into his side once more. Izuku gasped, blood gushing from the wounds as he collapsed to the ground.

The crowd roared in approval as the fighters loomed over Izuku's crumpled form. Blood pooled beneath him, his vision dimming. His body screamed in agony, and every breath felt like fire. Yet, even as the odds stacked higher against him, he forced himself to rise.

With a defiant grin, blood staining his teeth, he spat at their feet. "I'm not done yet," he growled, his voice barely audible over the deafening cheers.

But in his heart, he knew his time was running out.

One of the fighters, the rock brute, swung a massive, jagged fist toward Izuku. He ducked under the blow just as it smashed into the cage wall, tearing through the metal like paper. The impact sent shards flying, the sharp clang reverberating through the chaotic arena. Seeing his opening, Izuku pulled several smoke bombs from his belt and hurled them to the ground, the plumes erupting into a thick, choking fog.

"Time to go," Izuku muttered to himself, his voice strained as he launched himself into the air with the kinetic boots. He landed in the crowd, the force of his descent knocking a few spectators to the ground. But the crowd quickly surged toward him, their greed for the bounty overriding their fear. Fists and improvised weapons swung wildly at him as he weaved and countered, his punches and kicks landing with precision.

A solid right hook sent one man sprawling, while a spinning back kick dropped another. Izuku fought like a cornered animal, his movements efficient but desperate. Most of the crowd weren't fighters, and a few good hits were enough to knock them down. But as he carved a path through the sea of bodies, the four original fighters leapt into the fray, their bloodlust laser-focused on him.

The Lady of Blades lashed out first, her claws slashing through the air. Izuku managed to deflect her strike with his gauntlet, but the force sent him stumbling into the water-handed fighter. A jet of high-pressure water slammed into his ribs, throwing him off balance and into the path of the frozen fist man. Before he could recover, the man's icy knuckles smashed into his shoulder, sending a jolt of cold pain through his body.

Izuku staggered, spinning to create space, but the rock fighter charged forward with terrifying speed. His spiked fist connected with Izuku's side, the force lifting him off his feet and slamming him into a section of the crowd. The spectators scattered as Izuku crashed to the ground, blood pooling beneath him.

Groaning, he pushed himself to his feet, his vision blurring. He grabbed another smoke bomb and threw it, hoping to buy himself time, but a gust of wind from the crowd blew it away before it could spread.

"Not this time," the Lady of Blades sneered, her claws gleaming as she lunged forward.

Before Izuku could react, the rock fighter uppercut him, the blow shattering his defenses and sending him sprawling onto his back. He coughed violently, blood spewing from his mouth as his body screamed in agony. Struggling, he tried to rise, but the frozen fist fighter was on him, slamming a frost-covered fist into his back. The chill spread through his muscles, locking them up painfully.

The Lady of Blades didn't waste the opportunity, her claws driving into his back. Izuku cried out as the sharp blades pierced flesh, fresh blood gushing from the wounds. The water-handed fighter stepped in, lashing him with another stream of water that sent him skidding across the dirt.

"Stay down, little man," the rock brute growled, stomping toward Izuku's prone form. The crowd roared in approval as the four fighters surrounded him, raining down a storm of attacks.

Izuku's body was battered and broken, his movements slowing with every blow. The rock fighter stomped on his chest, the Lady of Blades slashed at his arms and legs, the frozen fist fighter delivered bone-chilling punches, and the water-handed fighter drowned him in unrelenting streams of water.

Blood splattered the ground as Izuku collapsed under the onslaught. His vision swam, the edges darkening as his body refused to obey him. The cheers of the crowd faded to a distant roar, replaced by the sound of his ragged breathing and the thudding of his battered heart.

Finally, he could take no more. His body went limp, his consciousness slipping as the fighters loomed over him, triumphant.

Izuku floated in the vast emptiness, a cold void surrounding him. His body felt weightless, suspended in the blackness, but his mind raced with emotions—fear, anger, and a stubborn defiance that refused to fade. In front of him, the familiar system notification screen flickered into existence, glowing faintly.

A message appeared:

"Goodbye. Would you like to send a final message to Toga and Mei?"

Izuku's breath hitched. His thoughts scrambled as he read the message. His heart sank, and the weight of the moment crushed down on him like a thousand tons. He whispered to the void, "No... no, no, no. I'm not done yet."

The screen shifted, almost as if reacting to his plea. Another message appeared:

"You are not dead, but you are about to be. Your journey has come to an end. You died a hero's death, saving two people."

Izuku clenched his fists, trembling with fury. "No!" he shouted, his voice echoing through the nothingness. "I'm not dead! I'm not done! I can still win. I can still survive!"

The system's reply was cold, almost dispassionate, but there was an undertone of regret.

"Izuku, the quests I provide are tailored to your growth, your abilities, and your potential. In the beginning, I offered personal challenges to help you grow—to stand up for yourself, to become stronger, to find confidence. And you succeeded. You no longer need those quests to guide you. But there are moments, rare moments, when I cannot give you a quest because the outcome is beyond your reach. If I had issued a quest to survive this battle, it would have been an act of cruelty. The odds were too far against you. You are dying, and I want you to make peace with that."

Izuku's hands shook. He tried to find the words, but all he could manage was a choked whisper. "That's... not fair. That's not how this ends."

The screen flickered again.

"Your life is not without meaning. You've grown. You've inspired others. You've saved lives, even now. Toga and Mei are safe because of you. They will carry your memory forward. You stood tall when it mattered most. You are not alone in your final moments—I am here with you."

Izuku's teeth clenched, his fury bubbling over. "No! You don't get to decide that! I refuse to let this be my end. I still have things to do. People to protect. You said I could stand up for myself—I'm standing up to you now! You're supposed to believe in me. Where's your faith?"

The screen paused, the glow flickering uncertainly. For a moment, there was silence. Then, words formed, slower this time:

"Do you truly believe you can survive this, Izuku? Against all odds, against overwhelming force? If so, prove it to me. Prove to yourself that this is not the end."

Izuku straightened, his resolve hardening. He glared into the void, his voice steady and fierce. "I don't need your quests. I don't need your predictions. All I need is a chance."

The screen dimmed slightly, then brightened as a final message appeared:

"Very well. No quests. No guidance. Only your will and your strength. Good luck, Izuku."

The void around him began to dissolve, the system screen fading into the darkness. Izuku felt a rush of energy surge through him, his senses snapping back to life. The cold ground beneath him, the pain in his battered body, the taste of blood on his tongue—it all returned in a flood.

His eyes snapped open, locking onto the stunned fighters surrounding him. The crowd roared, but all Izuku could hear was the sound of his own heartbeat, loud and steady.

He grinned through bloodied lips, muttering to himself, "Not done yet."

Izuku gritted his teeth, his body trembling as the psychic barrier shimmered weakly around him. It wouldn't hold for long—seconds at best—but it was all he needed. He funneled the last of his MP into his Heal skill, focusing on the deep gashes and cracked bones. His ribs popped back into place with a nauseating crunch, and the torn muscles in his arms knit together enough to stop the bleeding.

The moment the barrier shattered, Izuku flung a flashbang high into the air. The crowd erupted into chaos as the searing light and deafening crack stunned everyone within range. Fighters screamed, clutching their eyes, while spectators recoiled in pain. Izuku took a deep breath, blood dripping from his lips as he glared at the remaining fighters.

"No more holding back," he muttered, his voice a growl.

The stone man charged first, his spiked fists raised high. Izuku exploded forward, his boots propelling him like a missile. With a devastating gazelle punch, his fist connected with the man's jaw, the impact so powerful it lifted the hulking brute off the ground. The stone man crashed onto his back with a thunderous slam, groaning in pain as blood poured from his mouth.

The water-limbed fighter lunged next, his arms transforming into serpentine streams aimed at Izuku's throat. Izuku hurled a shock pellet directly into the watery appendages, the electrical surge sending the man into violent convulsions. He collapsed to the ground, his body twitching uncontrollably.

The Blade Finger Lady came at him fast, her claws gleaming as they slashed through the air. Izuku ducked under her wild swing, his instincts razor-sharp. He surged upward, delivering a crushing uppercut to her chin. Her head snapped back, and before she could recover, Izuku wrapped her in a Restriction Ball, the cords tightening around her body like a vice.

But before he could catch his breath, the Ice Fist fighter was on him. A flurry of jabs smashed into Izuku's face, each strike numbing his skin with frostbite. The man grabbed him, slamming a brutal knee into his stomach, knocking the air from his lungs. Izuku coughed up blood, his vision swimming, but he refused to fall. He grabbed the man's knee, twisting viciously until it bent at an unnatural angle. The ice fighter screamed, but Izuku silenced him with a savage headbutt, feeling the crunch of cartilage as his opponent's nose shattered.

The crowd, seeing their champions falter, turned feral. Spectators surged toward Izuku, their greed for the bounty outweighing their fear.

A man swung a pipe at his head. Izuku ducked, grabbing the pipe mid-swing and driving it into the attacker's gut, doubling him over. Another rushed with a knife; Izuku caught his wrist and snapped it with a sickening crack, sending the blade clattering to the ground. He picked it up and flung it into the leg of another attacker, dropping them instantly.

The remaining fighters, now furious, regrouped and rushed him together. The Blade Finger Lady, having freed herself, slashed at his chest, opening a deep, bloody gash. The Stone Man roared, throwing a haymaker that connected with Izuku's ribs, the crack echoing above the chaos. Izuku stumbled, blood spilling from his mouth, but he refused to go down.

He roared back, his body burning with adrenaline. Using Flurry of Blows, he unleashed a brutal combination: a spinning elbow to the Blade Finger Lady, sending her crumpling to the ground; a knee to the Stone Man's groin, causing him to collapse with a groan; and a psychic-enhanced punch that sent the Ice Fist fighter flying into the crowd.

But the crowd was relentless, swarming him like a tide. Someone stabbed him in the side, the blade plunging deep. Izuku grunted in pain, pulling it free and using it to slash at another attacker. Blood poured from his wounds, staining his clothes and pooling on the ground. His vision blurred, but he kept moving, kept fighting.

He grabbed a healing potion from his belt, chugging it mid-swing as someone lunged at him. The bottle was smashed out of his hand, shards cutting into his fingers. Izuku snarled, grabbing a shard and driving it into the attacker's arm before kicking him into the crowd.

A pipe swung at his leg, and he countered with a savage kick, the kinetic energy from his boots launching the attacker across the arena. Another came at him from behind, and Izuku spun, hooking his grappling hook onto the man's belt and yanking him backward into an elbow strike that broke his jaw.

But the fighters were relentless. Bloodied and battered, Izuku felt his strength waning. His movements became sluggish, his breathing labored. He stumbled, and the Stone Man took the opportunity to grab him by the throat, lifting him off the ground.

Izuku, gasping for air, locked eyes with the brute. "Not... yet," he growled. Channeling the last of his psychic energy, he enveloped his arms in shimmering, spectral limbs. He brought them crashing down on the Stone Man's shoulders, the force shattering the rocks and sending him to his knees.

The crowd roared, and Izuku, drenched in blood—his own and others'—stood defiant, his chest heaving, his body broken but unyielding.

"You want me dead?" he rasped, glaring at the fighters and the bloodthirsty crowd. "Then come and get me."

Izuku stood in the center of the blood-soaked arena, his chest heaving, his body trembling from exhaustion and pain. Blood dripped from the deep gashes on his arms and torso, pooling at his feet. His vision blurred as the adrenaline surged and ebbed, but his defiance burned brighter than ever. The crowd roared, emboldened by the sight of the battered boy, and they began to swarm him.

He gritted his teeth, shifting into a defensive stance. "You think you can take me?" he growled, his voice raw and guttural. "Come on, then."

The first wave came with clubs and knives, rushing him from all sides. Izuku ducked under a swing, driving his fist into a man's stomach. The kinetic energy discharged with a resounding crack, launching the man into two others behind him. He spun, catching a woman's wrist as she lunged with a blade, twisting it until the knife clattered to the ground. Without hesitation, he drove an elbow into her jaw, sending her sprawling.

Another man charged from behind, swinging a steel pipe. Izuku sidestepped, the pipe grazing his ribs, and retaliated with a psychic-enhanced kick to the side of the man's knee. The joint gave way with a sickening pop, and the attacker collapsed, screaming.

Blood sprayed as Izuku fought with ruthless efficiency. He smashed a bottle over one man's head, the shards slicing into his own hand. Ignoring the pain, he slashed at another attacker's arm with the jagged glass before kicking him into the mob.

The crowd pressed closer, their greed outweighing their fear. Someone tackled him from the side, and he crashed to the ground, feeling fists and boots rain down on him. His ribs groaned in protest, but he roared, a burst of psychic energy erupting from him and throwing his attackers back.

"Stay the hell down!" he bellowed, blood dripping from his lips.

Another group rushed him, and Izuku reached for his shock gauntlets. He activated them just as a burly man swung a crowbar at his head. The gauntlet intercepted the blow, discharging a wave of electricity that sent the attacker convulsing to the ground. Izuku stepped over him, delivering a brutal stomp to his chest for good measure.

The crowd seemed endless. They came with makeshift weapons, fists, and desperation, and Izuku met them with unrelenting fury. He used his grappling hook to snare one man by the ankle, yanking him off balance and pulling him into a spinning backhand that left him unconscious. Another attacker tried to blindside him, and Izuku countered with a psychic-enhanced uppercut, feeling the bones in the man's jaw shatter under the force.

By now, Izuku was drenched in blood—his own and his enemies'. His breathing was ragged, his vision tunneled, but he refused to stop. He grabbed a healing potion from his belt, chugging it as fast as he could before smashing the empty bottle into an oncoming assailant's face.

The fighters in the center watched silently, taking the opportunity to rest. The man with the water limbs flexed his regenerated arms, streams of water coiling and uncoiling around his fingers like snakes. The Ice Fist fighter sat against the cage, straightening his injured knee with a grimace before testing his frosted knuckles. The Blade Finger Lady ran her sharp, clawed hands over the stones of the arena, breathing deeply, while the Stone Man stood motionless, his jagged body reforming as he prepared for another round.

"Let him tire himself out," the Blade Finger Lady murmured, her voice laced with amusement. "The crowd will wear him down for us."

"Smart," the Ice Fist fighter muttered, cracking his neck. "Let's finish him when he's crawling."

The Stone Man grunted in agreement, his eyes locked on Izuku. "He's stubborn, but he's breaking."

Back in the crowd, Izuku roared as he flipped a man over his shoulder, slamming him into the ground with enough force to crack the stone beneath them. He stumbled as another blow struck his back—a metal chair crashing against his spine. He turned, ignoring the searing pain, and delivered a devastating punch to the assailant's chest, the kinetic energy blasting the man into a group of spectators.

His knees wobbled, his body screaming for rest, but he kept moving, kept fighting. Blood poured from a deep gash on his forehead, streaming into his eyes. He wiped it away with a trembling hand, only to be met with another wave of attackers.

A woman slashed at him with a broken blade, and he caught her wrist, twisting until the weapon fell. He headbutted her, feeling the crunch of her nose as she fell back. Another man tried to grab him, and Izuku spun, using the momentum to drive an elbow into the side of his head.

His movements were slower now, his strikes less precise. The weight of the battle bore down on him like a mountain, but he refused to fall.

Finally, the crowd began to thin. Bodies littered the ground around him, groaning and motionless. The remaining spectators stayed back, their bloodlust tempered by fear. Izuku staggered, his arms hanging limply at his sides, his breath ragged.

The fighters stepped forward, fully rested and ready.

Izuku wiped the blood from his mouth, straightening as best he could. "Round two," he rasped, his voice barely above a whisper. "Let's finish this."

Izuku stood his ground, his chest heaving, blood dripping from every inch of his body. His wild eyes scanned the remaining fighters as the water-limbed man and Ice Fist fighter advanced together. They moved in unison, a dangerous pair with synergy born of countless battles. Izuku gritted his teeth, ignoring the burning in his muscles and the searing cuts across his skin. He had to end this—no holding back.

The water-limbed man lashed out first, his arms morphing into high-pressure streams that blasted toward Izuku like bullets. Izuku dived to the side, barely evading the torrent as it carved deep gouges into the ground. He rolled to his feet just in time to see the Ice Fist fighter rushing at him, his frozen knuckles gleaming. The man swung a vicious haymaker, aiming for Izuku's jaw, but Izuku ducked, driving a psychic-enhanced uppercut into the man's gut.

The Ice Fist fighter gasped, stumbling back, but the water-limbed man was already on him. Streams of water transformed into ice spikes mid-air, firing at Izuku like a machine gun. One spike grazed his shoulder, tearing a chunk of flesh away. Another slammed into his thigh, the sharp pain nearly making him collapse.

"Stay down, boy," the water-limbed man growled, his voice cold and detached.

Izuku roared, his voice filled with rage and defiance. "You first!"

He flung a shock pellet at the water-limbed man's chest. The burst of electricity crackled through his body, causing him to scream and falter. Izuku lunged, delivering a spinning kick to the man's ribs. The kinetic energy discharged with the impact, sending the man flying into the cage wall with a deafening clang.

The Ice Fist fighter didn't let up. He came at Izuku again, throwing rapid jabs that forced him to retreat. Each punch was like a hammer, narrowly missing his face as he weaved and dodged. One jab connected with his ribs, the frost spreading instantly and numbing his side. Izuku grunted in pain but countered with a low kick to the man's knee. The Ice Fist fighter buckled slightly, and Izuku took the opening, smashing an elbow into the side of his head.

The Ice Fist fighter staggered, blood trickling down his temple, but he didn't fall. He surged forward, slamming his frozen fists into Izuku's shoulders, ice creeping across his skin. Izuku howled, his muscles screaming as he forced himself to move. He grabbed the man's arm, twisting it violently until he heard the satisfying snap of bone.

"You're still breathing?" Izuku snarled, his eyes wide and unhinged. "Let's fix that!"

He headbutted the Ice Fist fighter, feeling the man's nose crunch against his skull. Blood splattered across Izuku's face as he shoved the man away, delivering a brutal roundhouse kick to his temple. The Ice Fist fighter collapsed, finally motionless.

Before Izuku could recover, the water-limbed man was back, his arms coiling like serpents. He swung a watery appendage at Izuku's side, the impact knocking him into the cage wall. Izuku gasped, his vision swimming, but he pushed off the wall and charged, roaring like a wild animal.

The water-limbed man lashed out with both arms, but Izuku ducked under them, sliding across the blood-soaked ground. He sprang up, his fist glowing with psychic energy, and drove it into the man's stomach. The force blasted the man backward, but he rebounded, slamming a watery fist into Izuku's side.

Izuku staggered, clutching his ribs, but his fury wouldn't let him stop. He grabbed the man's shoulder, yanking him forward into a brutal knee strike to the face. The man's head snapped back, but he retaliated with a high-pressure stream of water that slammed into Izuku's chest, knocking him to the ground.

Gasping for air, Izuku rolled to avoid another spike of ice that embedded itself where his head had been. He grabbed a shard of the shattered spike, gripping it tightly despite the sharp edges cutting into his palm. As the water-limbed man lunged, Izuku jammed the shard into his thigh, twisting it savagely.

The man screamed, dropping to one knee, and Izuku took his chance. He grabbed the man by the hair, slamming his face into the ground repeatedly, the sickening crunch of bone echoing in the arena.

"Stay down!" Izuku roared, his voice raw and feral. He stood over the motionless body of the water-limbed man, drenched in blood, his chest heaving as he turned to face the remaining fighters.

The Stone Man and Blade Finger Lady were watching him intently, their expressions unreadable. They had waited, letting him exhaust himself, but now they stepped forward.

Izuku spat blood onto the ground, his lips curling into a savage grin. "Come on," he growled, his voice dripping with menace. "I've still got plenty left for you."

Izuku's body trembled with exhaustion and rage, his breath ragged, blood dripping from his nose, mouth, and multiple gashes across his torso. His eyes, wild and untamed, darted between the Blade Finger Lady and the Rock Man. The two remaining fighters smirked at each other, a silent agreement passing between them.

"He's softened up nicely," the Blade Finger Lady purred, flexing her razor-sharp fingers. "Let's finish this and split the prize."

The Rock Man chuckled, his voice deep and gravelly. "Fine by me. Just make it quick."

The Bladed Finger Lady darted forward, her razor-sharp claws gleaming under the harsh arena lights. Her movements were precise, calculated, and vicious. The Rock Man followed close behind, his massive fists crashing into the ground with each step, creating tremors that made Izuku stumble. They had a silent understanding, sharing wicked grins as they moved to corner Izuku.

Izuku panted heavily, his vision swimming from blood loss and exhaustion. His body screamed at him to stop, but his fury refused to let him yield. "Two against one? Fine by me," he snarled, blood dripping from his lips. "Let's end this."

The Bladed Finger Lady lashed out with a flurry of strikes, her claws slicing through the air with a menacing whistle. Izuku ducked under one slash, barely evading the razor edges, and countered with a quick jab to her ribs. The kinetic energy of the punch exploded on impact, making her stagger.

Before Izuku could press the attack, the Rock Man's massive fist came crashing down toward him. Izuku leaped backward, the ground where he'd stood splintering from the force of the punch. He grabbed a handful of broken debris from the ground, hurling it at the Bladed Finger Lady as a distraction. She batted the shards away, her claws cutting through them effortlessly.

The Rock Man lunged, swinging a wild haymaker at Izuku's side. Izuku twisted his torso to avoid the hit, feeling the wind rush past him as the fist narrowly missed. With his enemy overextended, Izuku planted a foot into the ground and drove his elbow into the Rock Man's ribs, using Power Strike to amplify the blow. The crack of stone echoed as a chunk of the Rock Man's armor broke away, but he barely flinched, his face twisting into a snarl.

"Too slow, brat," the Rock Man rumbled, swinging both fists down like hammers.

Izuku dived to the side, rolling back to his feet just in time to see the Bladed Finger Lady darting toward him. She slashed at his face, her claws grazing his cheek and leaving a deep, bloody gash. Izuku grunted in pain, but he grabbed her wrist before she could pull away, twisting it violently until there was a sickening pop. She screamed, but Izuku didn't let up. He drove his knee into her stomach, knocking the wind out of her, then activated Flurry of Blows.

His fists became a blur, each punch landing with devastating precision. A jab to her solar plexus. A hook to her jaw. An uppercut that snapped her head back. Blood sprayed from her mouth as she crumpled, her body slumping to the ground.

The Rock Man roared in rage, his massive hand grabbing Izuku by the waist. With a guttural scream, he hurled Izuku into the air. Izuku's body slammed into the ceiling, shattering one of the overhead lights. Glass rained down, cutting into his arms and face as he fell back to the ground with a thud.

Izuku groaned, rolling onto his side. His vision blurred, but his fingers found a shard of broken glass. Ignoring the searing pain, he ground the shard into his palm, letting the blood mix with the glass's jagged edges.

The Rock Man charged, raising both fists to crush him, but Izuku launched the glass shard into his face. The sharp fragments embedded into the Rock Man's eyes, making him howl in pain. He clawed at his face, stumbling blindly, and Izuku used the opportunity to rush forward.

The Bladed Finger Lady, still dazed, stumbled into the Rock Man's flailing fists as Izuku shoved her into his path. One of his wild swings struck her square in the chest, launching her across the arena and into the cage wall with a sickening crunch. She collapsed, motionless.

Now it was just the Rock Man.

Izuku ducked under a wild swing, slamming a psychic-enhanced punch into the Rock Man's exposed knee. The joint buckled, the sound of stone cracking echoing in the arena. The Rock Man howled, swinging again, but Izuku weaved under the strike, aiming for the other knee. Another powerful blow, and the Rock Man dropped to his knees.

"You're done!" Izuku roared, his wild eyes burning with unrelenting fury. He leaped onto the Rock Man's chest, raining down a barrage of punches on his face. Each blow cracked more of the stone, revealing the flesh underneath. The Rock Man flailed, but Izuku dodged the desperate swings, his fists relentless.

The stone finally shattered, exposing the man's bloodied face. Izuku didn't stop. He kept punching, his knuckles splitting open with each strike. Blood—his own and the Rock Man's—splattered across the ground as he screamed, "Stay down! Stay down!"

The Rock Man went limp, his body collapsing under the weight of Izuku's relentless assault. Izuku's chest heaved, his fists trembling as he slowly stood up. Blood dripped from his hands, his face, and his torn clothes. He looked around at the stunned crowd, his voice a low growl.

"Who's next?"

The sharp metallic click of a gun being racked froze Izuku in his tracks. His head snapped toward the announcer, who stood near the edge of the arena, his hands trembling as he aimed a pistol directly at him. The crowd that remained watched in hushed anticipation, a few gasping at the sudden escalation. Izuku's body tensed, his mind racing, but he reacted on instinct.

He unleashed Overwhelming Presence, his aura surging like a tidal wave. The announcer's hands quivered, his face going pale as sweat dripped down his temple. His grip faltered, and in that split second, Izuku grabbed a nearby stone chunk, hurling it with precision. The rock struck the firearm with a resounding clang, knocking it from the announcer's grasp.

Before the announcer could recover, Izuku activated his Kinetic Boots, the stored energy propelling him forward like a missile. He covered the distance in an instant, slamming his Kinetic Fist into the announcer's chest with enough force to send him flying into the wall. The man crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

Izuku fell to his knees, his body trembling as adrenaline coursed through his veins. He leaned forward, his bloodied hands pressing into the ground as he gasped for air. Each breath felt like fire in his lungs, but he forced himself to focus. The sound of groaning fighters and a few murmuring spectators filled the silence.

Slowly, he stood up, his knees threatening to buckle beneath him. Blood dripped from his arms, staining the ground in crimson streaks. He scanned the room, his gaze landing on several suitcases filled with cash near the announcer's podium. He stumbled toward them, each step heavy and deliberate.

Reaching the suitcases, he unlatched one, revealing stacks of cash. He grimaced but quickly transferred the contents to a duffel bag he'd found nearby. As he worked, the faint groaning of the Bladed Finger Lady caught his attention. She was trying to push herself off the ground, her face contorted in pain.

Izuku's patience snapped. "I said stay down!" he roared, activating his Kinetic Boots again. He launched himself toward her, driving his knee into the back of her head. Her face slammed into the blood-slick floor with a sickening crack, leaving her limp and motionless.

Panting heavily, Izuku rose to his feet. He reached into his coat, pulling out his phone, thankful Mei had reinforced it to withstand the brutal punishment he often endured. He dialed Neito and Itsuka.

"Meet me at the warehouse," he said, his voice rough and exhausted.

"Wait, what? Are you okay? What happened—" Neito began, but Izuku hung up before he could finish.

Tossing the bloodied duffel over his shoulder, Izuku limped toward the exit, his body screaming in protest with every movement. The scattered remnants of the crowd parted as he approached, too battered or too frightened to stand in his way. He left a trail of bloodied footprints behind him, the eerie silence broken only by the faint groans of defeated fighters.

The door to the arena burst open as Rumi strode in, her presence commanding attention. She glanced around at the devastation—the battered fighters, the unconscious announcer, the blood-stained walls. Her eyes widened as she saw Izuku limping toward her.

"Seriously? You couldn't wait for me?" she asked, exasperation lacing her tone. "Did you forget to charge your phone again?"

Izuku gave her a weary grin. "Yeah, you could say that." His voice was hoarse, but his tone was light, trying to downplay his injuries.

Rumi's eyes narrowed as she took in the state of him. His face was bruised, his clothes torn, and blood streaked every inch of his body. "Are you okay?" she asked, genuine concern softening her voice.

He waved a hand dismissively. "I'm fine. Just another day on the job."

"Fine?!" she exclaimed, stepping closer. "You look like you went twelve rounds with a cement truck. You need to sit down, or better yet, go to a hospital."

Izuku shook his head. "I just need a nap, and I'll be good as new. Trust me."

Rumi looked unconvinced, her arms crossing over her chest. "You're not invincible, you know. Let me at least help you clean up."

He reached out, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Thanks, but I've got this. Just… clean up the mess in there, okay? I need to rest."

As he turned to leave, he glanced over his shoulder, a mischievous glint in his tired eyes. "Oh, and by the way…" His hand shot out, delivering a playful slap to her behind. "Cute ass."

Rumi froze, her face turning crimson as she processed what had just happened. Her ears twitched in embarrassment, and she whirled around to shout at him, but he was already limping away, giving her a cheeky wink.

"Unbelievable!" she muttered, though a small smirk tugged at her lips. "Guess he's fine after all."

She turned back to the chaos, her focus shifting to cleaning up the aftermath, but her thoughts lingered on the exhausted green-haired boy who had once again left her simultaneously furious and impressed.

Rumi moved through the battered remnants of the crowd, her fists methodically delivering knockouts to anyone still foolish enough to resist. Her sharp kicks and punches landed with precision, dropping stragglers like sacks of potatoes. She was efficient, each motion a blur of practiced power.

As she took down the last conscious troublemaker, she heard a familiar voice from behind her.

"Mind telling me what exactly went down here?" It was calm but carried an edge of authority. Rumi froze mid-step, turning to see the underground hero Eraserhead standing in the doorway, his ever-present scarf hanging loosely around his neck, and his tired eyes narrowing as he surveyed the chaotic scene.

She forced a grin, casually brushing the dust off her jacket. "Oh, hey, Eraserhead. Fancy seeing you here."

He raised an eyebrow. "Rumi, what happened?"

Rumi gave a half-hearted shrug, motioning to the unconscious bodies sprawled across the floor. "Maybe they all got drunk and started fighting? I don't know. When I got here, things were already heating up. Managed to wrangle a few of the crowd, though." She punctuated her words by nudging a groaning man with her foot.

Eraserhead didn't look convinced. He moved forward, his sharp gaze scanning the devastation before crouching next to one of the dazed spectators. His voice dropped into a menacing calm as he began his interrogation. "Who did this? What happened here?"

The man's eyes darted nervously, glancing past Eraserhead toward Rumi. She stood a few feet behind the underground hero, her arms crossed and her eyes boring into the man with a fierce, silent warning. Her hands moved subtly, drawing a line across her throat in a clear threat. If he told the truth, there would be consequences.

The man gulped, his gaze snapping back to Eraserhead. "Uh… there was this guy," he stammered. "Yeah, uh, long black hair, real scary. He just went berserk, started taking everyone down."

Eraserhead's eyes narrowed. "Describe him."

The man's gaze flickered nervously to Rumi again before continuing. "Uh, yeah, long black hair, some scars on his face, and, uh… bulging muscles. He was huge. Looked like he was in a rage or something."

Eraserhead nodded, rising to his full height. He turned to another conscious member of the crowd, repeating the same question. The response was nearly identical—a hulking man with long black hair, scars, and an unknown but terrifying quirk.

Rumi kept her expression neutral but maintained her menacing presence, her silent gestures ensuring the crowd stuck to the fabricated story. As each account corroborated the last, Eraserhead's skepticism faded slightly, though his frown deepened.

"Fine," he muttered, stepping back from the crowd and pulling out his communicator. "I'll call in ambulances for the injured and get more heroes to help secure the scene."

Rumi's ears twitched at his words. "Mind if I bounce? Looks like you've got this under control."

Eraserhead gave her a weary glance. "Go ahead. But keep yourself out of trouble, Rumi. I don't want to hear about you being in another mess like this anytime soon."

She gave him a mock salute. "Got it, boss man. See you around."

As soon as she stepped out of the warehouse, a grin spread across her face. She pumped her fist in the air. "Yes! Clean getaway!" Her mood lifted, and she set her sights on finding her next challenge, her energy renewed despite the chaos she had just left behind.

Back inside, Eraserhead examined the scene one more time. His communicator buzzed, and he held up a sketch artist's rendition of the supposed assailant—a man with wild, long black hair, jagged scars, and exaggerated muscles. It was a grotesque caricature.

He squinted at the image, muttering to himself. "This doesn't feel right. But let's see what else we can dig up."

The underground hero began questioning the crowd further, determined to find any shred of the truth hidden among the fabricated stories. Meanwhile, outside, Rumi disappeared into the night, her footsteps light as she hummed to herself, already planning her next adventure.

Back at the warehouse

Back at the warehouse, Izuku opened the door and limped inside, every step stiff and deliberate. Neito and Itsuka followed closely behind, their expressions a mixture of guilt, relief, and exhaustion. Izuku made a beeline for the bean bag chair and collapsed onto it with a heavy sigh. Each time he managed to regenerate enough MP, he used the Heal skill, the faint glow around his hands signaling another bone or torn muscle being repaired.

He reached for the duffel bag he'd carried back, dropping it onto the floor with a thud. The zipper tugged open slightly, revealing neat stacks of blood-stained yen. The sight of the money hit Itsuka like a shockwave.

Her breath hitched. "This… this should be enough," she stammered, dropping to her knees beside the bag. Tears welled up in her eyes as she held one of the stacks in trembling hands. "My family will be safe. I can quit doing this. We'll finally be okay."

Izuku, sitting back in the bean bag chair with an ice pack pressed to his temple, gave her a hard stare. His voice was steady but cold. "That's my money, not yours."

Itsuka froze, her hands gripping the cash tightly. "Wait... what?" Her gaze shot to his face, her expression shifting from disbelief to desperation. "What do you mean? I need this. My family needs this. You don't understand—"

Izuku cut her off, sitting forward despite the sharp protest of his ribs. "No, you don't understand," he snapped, pointing at the bruises on his face and the fresh scars marking his arms. "I earned it. I risked my life. I fought for it."

"But—" she stammered, tears beginning to streak her cheeks, "I didn't have a choice! I had to—"

"You didn't have to do anything," Izuku interjected sharply. He stood, forcing himself upright despite the pain, and towered over her. "You put yourself in this mess, and then you ran. You left me to clean it up. If you wanted that money, you should've stayed and fought alongside me."

Itsuka recoiled as if struck. "But… you helped me! You knew how much this meant to me. My family—"

"I helped you because I didn't want you to die, not because I owed you anything," Izuku said, his tone unwavering. He gestured to the stack of cash. "That's the least I deserve after bailing you out of a fight you couldn't finish. You want money? Figure it out on your own next time."

The words hit her like a slap. The cash slipped from her hands, fluttering back into the bag. Her shoulders slumped, and she stared at the floor, her lips trembling. "I thought you'd understand," she whispered, her voice barely audible.

Izuku sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. He softened his tone, but only slightly. "I do understand. I understand more than you think. But this isn't about just you anymore. I bled for that money. And I'm not handing it over so you can throw a band-aid on a bigger problem."

Neito, standing in the corner, looked between the two of them, his usual snark absent as he weighed the tension in the room. "Come on, Izuku," he ventured cautiously. "You've got more than enough there. Can't you just—"

"No," Izuku cut him off, his voice firm. "This isn't about being nice or generous. She needs to learn. This kind of thing doesn't fix itself with a quick payout. And I'm not going to encourage her to keep putting herself in danger."

Itsuka's screams reverberated through the warehouse, her voice cracking with the weight of her frustration and despair. "It's not fair! Everything I did—everything—was for my family! I'm a good person! I didn't want any of this!" She was on the verge of collapsing, her emotions spilling over like a dam bursting.

Izuku stared at her coldly, his arms crossed. "Life isn't fair," he said flatly. "It wasn't fair for me, either. I had to risk my life just to save yours. That's the least I deserve, Itsuka."

He turned his sharp gaze to Neito, who was standing awkwardly nearby, fists clenched at his sides. "And you," Izuku growled, stepping toward him. "You're lucky I don't break both of your legs and force you to crawl back home. You dragged me into this without a plan, without information, and had me walk blindly into a fight. Idiotic."

Neito flinched at the venom in Izuku's words, but didn't back down entirely. Izuku leaned in closer, towering over him. "If I didn't push my way through, if I didn't fight for everything I had, I'd be dead. That's a fact. She would've died, too. And now you ask for more? Both of you?"

Itsuka collapsed to her knees, her sobs wracking her body as she curled into herself. Tears streamed down her face, her cries barely audible. "I didn't know what else to do," she whimpered. "I'm sorry."

Neito clenched his jaw and threw a fist at Izuku in a burst of emotion. "You self-righteous—!"

Izuku caught the punch with ease, his enhanced reflexes kicking in. In one fluid motion, he pulled Neito closer and delivered an uppercut powered by his kinetic gauntlets, sending Neito flying backward. He hit the ground with a thud, lying dazed on his back.

"Stay down, blondie," Izuku said, his voice calm but laced with an edge of menace.

Izuku stepped back, reclining into the bean bag chair and letting out a long exhale. He looked at Itsuka, who was still crying on the ground. "Alright, so you're alive," he said, breaking the tense silence. "What time and day do your parents meet the Yakuza?"

Through her tears, Itsuka choked out the answer. "Tomorrow… early in the morning. That's when the deadline is."

Izuku nodded, standing up with a grunt. "Fine. I'm going to go shower. I'll deal with the Yakuza in the morning."

Itsuka lifted her head slightly, her tear-streaked face a mixture of confusion and hope. "Wait, what do you mean? I thought you said you weren't going to help me."

Izuku paused, glancing at her over his shoulder. "I said I wasn't giving you the money," he clarified. "I didn't say I wasn't going to help you. Text me the name and address of your family business, so I don't forget. I'll save your business, too."

Itsuka's lips parted in stunned silence, and Neito groaned as he sat up, rubbing his jaw. "You really could've led with that," he muttered, shooting Izuku a sour look.

Izuku ignored him, trudging toward the bathroom. He stripped off his bloodied and torn clothes, stepping into the steaming shower. The hot water washed away the grime, blood, and shards of glass clinging to his skin. His muscles ached with every movement, but the heat soothed the worst of it.

Izuku stepped out of the steaming shower, his body feeling lighter despite the soreness that clung to him like a shadow. The fresh warmth of the bathrobe was a small comfort as he wrapped it around himself, the emerald green fabric soft against his bruised and scarred skin.

System Notification:

Congratulations! You have reached Level 15.

Reward: 100,000 XP awarded.

New Features Unlocked: Fighting Styles Store

Skills Acquired:

Precognition level 1: Costs 100 MP; allows you to predict the next five seconds for one minute. Increases duration with level. Requires line of sight.

Light Feet level 1: Grants a 10% speed boost per level.

Izuku smiled faintly as he scrolled through his stats in the corner of his mind's eye. He had come a long way, and it showed. He noticed a lot of his skills, just leveled up rapidly. And the three levels he gained on top of that.

Stats and Skills
Level: 15
Stats:

Physical: 180

Body: 110

Mind: 125

HP: 11,000 (Body 100)

SP: 1,100 (Body 10)

MP: 1,250 (Mind 10)

Skills Progress:

Hand-to-Hand Combat: Level 5

Nimble: Level 5

Heal Skill: Level 5 (Healing 500 HP)

Passive Recovery Skills: Level 3

Flurry of Blows: Level 3 (Two additional charges)

Counter Skill: Level 3

Psychic Enhancement & Constructs: Level 3

He couldn't help the satisfied grin spreading across his face. Every battle, every grueling moment, had paid off. He wasn't just growing stronger—he was becoming smarter, faster, and more versatile. He glanced at the system store and saw a long list of fighting styles now available, each promising new techniques to refine his combat prowess. He made a mental note to explore them after some rest.

Izuku rubbed his damp hair with a towel, his muscles groaning in protest as he moved to the small mirror by the sink. His face was a patchwork of fresh bruises, scratches, and fading scars. The sight didn't faze him anymore; it was just another sign of his hard-earned progress.

"Still alive," he murmured to his reflection, the words carrying a weight that spoke of both relief and resolve.

Izuku walked out of the bathroom, his damp green bathrobe clinging to him as he dried his hair with a towel. Despite his attempt to appear composed, the injuries he couldn't heal entirely were visible—bruises on his arms, a small cut above his eyebrow, and a slight limp in his walk.

The moment Toga and Mei spotted him, they erupted in a cacophony of shouting.

"Who the hell are these people?" Toga yelled, pointing at Itsuka and Neito. "And where were you?! We got your text, and Rumi said you were here, but we couldn't find you!"

Mei chimed in, her tone sharp with both worry and anger. "Do you know how stupid you are? Risking your life like that, you idiot!"

Before he could even respond, they rushed over, both of them throwing their arms around him. Mei hugged his waist tightly while Toga practically tackled him, burying her face in his chest. Despite the initial anger in their voices, it was clear they had been terrified for him.

"You're such an idiot," Mei muttered, her voice breaking. "Don't you ever do that again."

"You pervert!" Toga sniffled, hitting him weakly on the shoulder. "What if you'd died?! What would I do then?!"

Izuku rolled his eyes with a soft smile, wrapping his arms around them both. "I didn't really have a choice in the matter. If there's anyone to blame, it's him." He gestured at Neito, who was still nursing his bruised chin and sore pride in the corner.

Both girls turned toward Neito, their faces twisting into identical glares of fury.

"What the hell is wrong with you?!" Mei barked, storming over to him. "You dragged him into this mess?!"

"Are you stupid or just suicidal?!" Toga added, leaping toward him. Neito barely had time to raise his hands in protest before both girls began kicking and smacking him relentlessly.

"Stop it! Stop it!" Neito yelped, trying to shield himself. "I was trying to help! I didn't think it would get this bad!"

Itsuka, still sitting slumped against the wall, spoke up weakly. "If anyone deserves to get beaten up, it's me. I'm the reason he got involved. I'm the one who—"

"Yeah, you're right," Mei interjected, turning her sharp gaze on Itsuka. "You're lucky we're holding back."

Toga, however, was less forgiving. "No way." She marched over and kicked Itsuka squarely in the face, sending her sprawling backward. "What the hell is wrong with you?! Getting my boyfriend into danger like that? What would I do if he died? Huh?!"

Her voice broke, and tears streamed down her face as she screamed, her shoulders shaking with the weight of her emotions. Izuku sighed, stepping forward and pulling her into a tight hug from behind.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," he said softly, resting his chin on her shoulder. "I'm here. I'm fine. It all worked out."

Toga turned around, burying her face in his chest, still sobbing. Mei joined them, hugging him from the other side. The tension in the room slowly melted as they clung to him, their relief palpable.

"Let's just get some sleep," Izuku said, his voice tired but steady. "I'll explain everything tomorrow. For now, let's just rest."

He guided the two girls to his bed and lay down between them. They curled up against him, each holding onto him tightly as if he might disappear if they let go. He stroked their hair gently, whispering reassurances.

"It's okay," he murmured. "I'm not going anywhere. Everything's fine now."

Toga sniffled. "You're not allowed to scare me like that again."

Mei let out a small, shaky laugh. "You've got a lot of explaining to do tomorrow, broccoli boy."

Izuku chuckled softly, his eyelids growing heavy. "Yeah, I do. But for now, let's just sleep."

As the room grew quiet, with only the sound of their steady breathing filling the air, he allowed himself to finally relax. Despite everything, they were all safe, and for the first time in what felt like days, he could finally rest.

Izuku woke up groggily, the aches and bruises from the previous night still lingering in his body. The weight of everything he had endured hung over him, but his mind was sharp. The system pinged softly as he directed a question toward it, his voice a low whisper.

"What's Bond level?"

The familiar, slightly mechanical voice responded in his mind.

"Bond level measures the emotional and relational connection between two individuals. When a bond reaches a certain affinity threshold, it allows the system to be shared. For instance, Mei and you have spent significant time together, sharing mutual affection and a strong bond. This allowed the system to link with her. Toga's case was unique. While your feelings for her are moderate, her feelings for you were overwhelming. Her Bond level with you exceeded the required threshold, which granted her access."

A small visual display popped up in his mind, showing Toga's bond bar towering high, pulsating with bright colors. Meanwhile, other bars—Mei's included—were stable, balanced, and mutual. Then there were others, much smaller and dimmer, representing people like Neito and Itsuka.

"Neito and Itsuka don't meet the threshold," the system continued. "Their bonds with you lack the depth of emotion and trust required to activate a system transfer. You're essentially decent friends, but that's all."

Izuku sighed heavily, rubbing his temple. "So, you're saying this could become an issue later?"

The system chimed. "It depends. If they ask, the details of the system could create tension. As long as they remain unaware or uninterested, you can avoid unnecessary complications."

"Great," he muttered to himself, running a hand through his messy green hair. "Let's not turn a stone that doesn't need turning."

He stood up, quietly padding around the room. Mei and Toga were curled up together on the bean bed, still sound asleep, their faces peaceful. Izuku allowed himself a small smile, the chaos of the past day fading slightly as he watched them rest.

He grabbed a piece of paper and scribbled a quick note:

Hey,

Went out to take care of a few things. There's cash here for food or anything else you need. I'll be back later. Don't do anything crazy.

- Izuku

He placed the note on the table beside a small stack of cash, ensuring it wouldn't be missed. With a deep breath,

Izuku exited the bedroom, his movements purposeful and sharp. He nudged the bean bag chair with his foot, sending a jolt through Neito and Itsuka.

"Let's go," he said, his voice flat but firm.

Both groaned as they stirred, Neito rubbing his face while Itsuka tried to shake off her fatigue. They didn't need to ask where—they knew. Izuku was already adjusting the glasses on his nose, his pristine white Yakuza-style outfit gleaming under the warehouse lights. It radiated a sharp contrast to the grim determination etched on his face.

The Ramen shop

The three of them walked into the quiet, modest restaurant. The smell of rich broth and fresh noodles wafted through the air, but the place was eerily empty. Itsuka's parents stood behind the counter, their faces a blend of exhaustion and anxiety. As soon as they saw Izuku, wearing what looked like the uniform of someone with considerable power, they panicked.

The older man stepped forward, his hands trembling. "Please, we—we just need more time! We'll get the money. I swear, just don't hurt us, or—or our daughter."

Izuku raised a hand, silencing him. His voice was calm but firm. "I'm not Yakuza. I'm here to clear up this mess and save your business. So, sit back, relax, and let me handle this."

The couple exchanged nervous glances but nodded hesitantly, stepping back behind the counter. Izuku walked over to a table, adjusting his glasses as he sat down. "I'll take a bowl of noodles. Make it quick."

Itsuka's father hurried to the kitchen while her mother prepared the counter. Neito and Itsuka stood awkwardly nearby, unsure of what to do.

As the aroma of freshly cooked noodles filled the air, the tranquility was shattered by the loud slam of the door against the wall. Two burly men in cheap suits stomped in, their expressions twisted with smug malice.

"Hey!" one of them bellowed. "This place looks dead! How about we liven it up a bit?"

The second man sneered. "Yeah, maybe we rearrange some furniture while we're at it."

Izuku didn't even glance their way. He calmly slurped a mouthful of noodles, savoring the taste before dabbing at his lips with a napkin. Then, with a sudden burst of speed, he rose from his chair and delivered a devastating kick to each of their faces. The force of the blows sent them flying backward, crashing through the door and onto the sidewalk outside.

Neito's jaw dropped. "What the hell—?!"

"I'm eating," Izuku said flatly, stepping over the threshold and into the alleyway where the men had landed. He grabbed them both by the collars, dragging them deeper into the narrow space before slamming them against the brick wall.

"Let's talk," he said, his voice icy. "And let's end this right here."

The first man, his nose bleeding profusely, struggled to speak. "W-we don't want any trouble—"

"Really?" Izuku leaned in closer, his glasses catching the light in a way that made him look far more menacing. "Because shaking down a small business run by an innocent family seems like a great way to invite trouble."

The second man grunted, his lip split. "It's just business. Nothing personal."

Izuku slammed his fist into the wall beside the man's head, the bricks cracking under the force. "It's personal now. Here's what's going to happen. You're going to leave this business alone, you're going to tell your bosses it's off-limits, and if I ever hear about you or your crew coming back here…" His voice dropped to a low growl. "I'll make sure you regret it."

The two men exchanged nervous glances, sweat dripping down their brows. Botan swallowed hard. "We… we can't do that."

Izuku's jaw tightened, his hands curling into fists. "What did you say?"

Asa groaned, shooting a look at his companion. "Botan, don't—"

"Shut up, Asa," Botan hissed before turning back to Izuku. "Look, we can't just forgive the debt. If we let one slide, the boss will come down on us harder than you can imagine. But… we can make another deal."

Izuku's eyes narrowed. "What deal?"

Botan held up his hands, his tone almost pleading. "Just hear us out, okay? My name's Botan. This is Asa. We're… well, we're not like the others. We're Yakuza, but we still follow the old ways. Honor, loyalty, all of it. The new boss? He's a different breed. He's taken everything the old boss built and turned it into something… twisted."

Izuku eased back slightly but kept his glare sharp. "Start talking. I don't have all day."

Botan sighed, glancing at Asa before continuing. "The new boss—Overhaul—he's not just shaking people down. He's running experiments. Dangerous ones. He's using… people. And one of those people is the granddaughter of our former boss. Her name is Eri."

Izuku's stern expression faltered for a brief second. "A child?"

Asa spoke up, his voice bitter. "Yeah. Overhaul's been using her quirk for something. We don't know all the details, but… it's bad. Real bad. And we can't do anything about it. He's too strong. His loyalists are too strong."

Botan jumped back in. "But you? You're not tied to us. You're an outsider. Nobody will connect you to us if you help. We've got the blueprints to the compound where she's being held. We know her routine. We can create a distraction to give you a window to get her out."

Izuku crossed his arms, his gaze hard and unreadable. "And in return?"

Botan clasped his hands together. "We'll pay off the debt. Every yen. You'll never hear from us again. Please. This little girl doesn't deserve what's happening to her. You've got a good heart. We can see that."

Asa grumbled, his voice low. "Botan, this is insane…"

"It's the right thing to do!" Botan snapped, his eyes blazing with determination. "We have to. If we don't, nobody will."

Izuku tilted his head, his fingers tapping against his arm. "You're asking me to risk my life for a kid I don't know. For people I don't trust."

Botan met his gaze, unflinching. "Yes. Because it's the right thing to do. Because you look like someone who understands that."

There was a long silence. Izuku stared at the two men, weighing his options. His hand drifted to his glasses, adjusting them slightly as he thought.

Finally, he let out a sharp exhale. "Fine. I'll do it."

Both men visibly relaxed, relief washing over their faces. Botan managed a small smile. "Thank you. Thank you, young man. You're walking the path of honor."

"Save the speeches," Izuku said curtly. "When and where?"

Botan pulled a crumpled map from his jacket, smoothing it out against the wall. "This is the compound. She's usually here, in this section. The guards rotate every four hours. We'll cause a distraction here," he pointed to a spot near the entrance, "to draw them away. That should give you a fifteen-minute window to get in and get her out."

Izuku studied the map carefully, nodding. "Got it."

"We'll meet back here in a few hours with the final details," Botan said, tucking the map away. "Again, thank you. You don't know what this means."

Izuku turned, already heading back toward the restaurant. "Just don't screw this up. You'll regret it if you do."

As he walked away, Botan and Asa exchanged a look. Asa muttered, "I hope this kid knows what he's getting into."

Botan clenched his fists, determination etched across his face. "He'll do it. He has to."

Author's Note:
Hey, everyone! Thanks for sticking with me through another chapter. I know this one's a bit shorter than usual—trust me, it wasn't the original plan! I debated splitting this into two parts, but ultimately decided to roll it into one chapter. Plus, the website gave me a lot of grief with cloud flare errors, so getting this out to you was a bit of a battle in itself.

That said, I hope you enjoyed this one. We're diving into some intense stuff with Eri, and there's definitely more chaos on the horizon. Our broccoli boy and friends are in for some serious challenges. Also, as promised, the next chapter will finally get us into UA for the long-awaited tour. Big things are coming, and I can't wait to share them with you!

Thank you so much for your continued support and for sticking by me through all the twists and turns. Don't forget to leave a review—I love hearing your thoughts, and it helps keep me motivated! See you in the next chapter.

Stay awesome,