Well well... Good day/evening/morning everyone! Hope you all are doing well!
Finally, after quite some time writing, here's Chapter 1! However, be aware that Chapter 2 will come in quite some time, I have other fanfictions and project to work on, so yeah.
Ah, yes, at the end of the chapter will be some clarifications about things mentionned in this, so if you don't understand some things, well, check that out, it might be helpful!
Before we jump in, the reviews:
Jdheefhd: Glad that you like it! Yeah, this time around I feel like I will use a full potential...
With that...
ENJOY!
Chapter 1: A normal day.
/
-OOUUIIIWIOOUUIIIWIOOUUIIIWIOO!-
An alarm suddenly blared through the street, coming from a bank. A group of men rushed out of it quickly.
All of them were dressed in black suits with golden embroidery along the edges, wearing featureless black oval masks topped with black leather top hats.
Their leader had golden markings on his mask and wore a long coat finely decorated with golden buttons, covering his suit.
The man raised an arm and snapped his fingers under the fascinated yet confused gaze of the public.
"OBSERVE, PASSERSBY! BEHOLD THE RISE OF A CRIMINAL BEYOND COMPARE!"
The group, eight men in total, pulled pistols from their pockets, raising their barrels into the air while firmly clutching their bags filled with cash.
-BANG BANG BANG!-
The gunfire snapped the bystanders out of their daze, and soon enough, screams erupted as the villains fired into the sky, laughing at the helpless people panicking and scrambling in chaotic terror.
The leader let out a dramatic chuckle, placing a hand theatrically on his chest.
"TODAY, LUNARIS PROCLAIMS HIMSELF EMPEROR OF ALL VILLAINS IN MUSUTAFU!"
Suddenly, one of the man's underlings let out a surprised yelp.
"Heroes!"
The gang leader turned his head, eyes widening behind his mask, this was not part of the plan!
Indeed, sprinting from the other end of the street, a man in a turquoise blue jumpsuit, a bandana adorned with a metal plate resembling a hydraulic press, and two large yellow-and-black-striped gauntlets appeared.
The first hero was accompanied by another, who leaped from car rooftop to car rooftop. His suit was a dark blue, but most of his gear and his helmet appeared to be made of wood.
The two heroes stopped about twenty meters from the group.
Death Arms and Kamui Woods had arrived.
"Surrender now, and we won't have to hurt you," Death Arms growled, cracking his knuckles together.
Some members of the gang visibly hesitated, shifting uncomfortably. Those holding pistols had stopped firing, their grips tightening around the handles.
Lunaris clenched his fists and gritted his teeth. This was definitely not part of the plan. But he mustered the courage to respond.
"Brave words for someone without a firearm!" Then, he raised his arm and pointed at them. "OPEN FIRE!"
The villains wielding pistols lifted their weapons and fired.
Bullets whistled through the air, streaking toward the two heroes. Kamui Woods raised his hands, and thick wooden branches sprouted from his fingers, forming a shield that absorbed the incoming rounds.
The gunfire ceased with a series of empty clicks.
Death Arms lunged forward. The hero closed the distance with frightening speed and drove his fist into the face of one villain, who barely had time to lift his hands in a futile reflex before his mask shattered, and he was sent crashing into the steps of a nearby building, knocked out cold.
Another thug turned, lifting his pistol. His finger pulled the trigger.
-Click!-
"Shit!" the villain cursed, his voice trembling as he realized he hadn't reloaded.
Death Arms spun around, grabbed the barrel of the gun, and crushed it in his grip before driving a punch into the man's gut, making him double over in pain.
All semblance of order collapsed as the criminals scattered, each one fleeing for their lives. However, half of them were swiftly ensnared by Kamui Woods' Resin Prison, unable to move.
Lunaris brought a hand to the side of his head and yelled, "WE NEED EXTRACTION!"
Death Arms silenced him with a punch to the face.
But that didn't stop a van from screeching to a halt a minute later, its tires skidding on the pavement. The back doors swung open, and three men jumped out. These ones were much more heavily armed and seemed to have far more powerful Quirks than their lesser comrades.
One in particular cracked his knuckles and rolled his neck before swelling in size. He wore no mask, allowing everyone to see the wide grin stretching across his face.
"Alright, heroes, let's dance!"
The other two villains charged forward, one brandishing three knives between his fingers like brass knuckles, the other's fists swelling into massive spiked maces.
The now-giant villain kicked off the fight by stomping his foot down with immense force, shattering the pavement to pieces, creating a shockwave that destabilized Death Arms and Kamui Woods. The remaining criminals took advantage of the distraction to make a break for the van…
Kamui Woods found himself dueling the knife-wielding thug, forced to dodge and weave around the slashes while maintaining his hold on the captured villains. Meanwhile, Death Arms locked into a brutal struggle with the spiked-fist brute.
The giant villain, however, bided his time, waiting for an opening to crush one of the two heroes.
Death Arms blocked a punch and shoved his opponent back before pressing a finger to his earpiece.
"We could use some backup! Mount Lady, where the hell are you?!"
The young woman responded quickly, though her voice also began echoing down the street.
"I'm right here! CANYON CANON!"
"Huh?" the giant villain blinked in confusion, just in time to take a devastating dropkick to the face.
He stumbled back, tripping over a parked car before losing his balance completely. His head slammed hard against the corner of a building, and he was instantly knocked out, collapsing in a heap across the street.
Despite their fallen comrade, the two remaining thugs did not falter and continued their assault on the pro heroes.
Mount Lady straightened up and lunged for the van, whose engine roared to life as it peeled out, rearing up on two wheels as it narrowly dodged her grasp, leaving one thug behind.
However, the getaway vehicle didn't make it far.
As it sped toward an intersection, a massive black, red, and gold armored truck crashed into it with the force of a freight train.
Metal groaned and twisted as the van's rear buckled under the impact, sending it skidding before flipping over multiple times. It tumbled for about twenty meters before coming to a stop on its right side.
The interceptor vehicle, however, remained completely unscathed, heavily armored at the front as it was. But this was no ordinary police vehicle.
The back door, adorned with an eagle and a stylized 'I', and a clenched fist holding a balance, was kicked open with authority.
The first figure to step out was a sight to behold.
A man clad in jet-black armor, each plate bearing the marks of long service, emerged. His helmet, polished black with only a single white stripe disturbing its surface, was like crowned with a crimson crest that stood tall, like a silent warning to all criminals. Finally, the visor slit of his helmet glowed with an eerie, spectral red light.
On his left shoulder rested an imposing golden pauldron, sculpted in the image of an eagle whose wings almost seemed to extend silently.
In his right hand, he wielded a large suppression baton crackling with energy, almost menacingly, his grip firm around the handle.
His left hand clenched a massive assault shield. A blood-red stripe ran across its surface, contrasting with the golden eagle that adorned its front. A tactical light was even integrated into it, though it was currently switched off.
As soon as he stepped out, he positioned himself, hunching behind his shield to round the corner.
Behind him, four other men emerged. Unlike the first, they did not have a crest on their helmets, and their equipment was different. One also carried a shield and baton in his hands, while two others gripped a sort of red shotgun, loading it as they advanced. The last man crouched behind the vehicle, lifted the visor of his helmet, and raised his right arm, equipped with a control panel, pressing a button.
A compartment to the right of the door opened, revealing a rack that extended outward, metal clamps holding something that deployed the next second.
Four mechanical legs struck the ground, a neck extended, and a head unfolded. Half organic, half machine, the head of the massive cyber-mastiff turned left and right before returning to its initial position. The man pressed a series of buttons, and the cyborg's eyes flickered before its muscles tensed.
The cyber-mastiff then took its place at the left side of the team leader, growling through a built-in voice box in its organic throat.
The group advanced toward the vehicle, shield bearers providing cover… Fortunately so.
One of the criminals crawled out through the shattered windshield, his face bloodied, his mask broken, one eye marred by a large scar… When he looked up, he saw with horror the group advancing toward him and immediately drew a pistol from his belt.
The weapon spat death… Which crumpled harmlessly against the heavy shields.
"ATTACK MODE!" ordered the crouching man as he pressed a button. The cyber-mastiff tensed, then sprang forward with such force that its paw prints remained imprinted in the ground.
The criminal instantly changed targets.
Bullets whizzed and ricocheted off the armor plating covering the cyborg, but in mere moments, the mechanical beast was upon him. Its metal teeth sank deep into the hand holding the firearm, causing blood to spurt. The man screamed in pain and tried to break free, his other hand hammering at the machine's head, to no effect other than making the ruthless jaws tighten even further.
The four-man team closed the distance without trouble, and the second shield bearer stomped his boot onto the criminal's ribs. The man howled in pain once more before falling silent as the heavy suppression baton struck his head, his skull emitting a sickening crack.
The cyber-mastiff released its grip and stepped back, its jaws dripping with fresh blood.
Regular police soon arrived to take the criminals into custody, and many spectators who had been close backed away, stunned by the sheer violence deployed.
However, to keep onlookers at bay, a skull-shaped machine emerged from the compartment's depths, hovering thanks to small thrusters. Its jaw had been replaced with a loudspeaker. It rose nearly two meters into the air before clicking mechanically.
"For your safety, please leave this area. The Adeptus Arbites and your local law enforcement have the situation under control," the small machine announced in a cold, emotionless voice—just as the blast of a shotgun rang out.
A criminal who had tried to flee collapsed to the ground, screaming in agony, clutching his shattered, bloodied leg.
The Adeptus Arbites, the Imperium's special public security division… They primarily intervened in cases of extreme urgency… A rapid response force that did not hesitate to use violence to accomplish their objectives…
Here, though they hadn't truly been necessary, with the presence of firearms, it had been deemed safer to call them in just in case…
Back to where were the pro heroes, however, a thunderous round of applause erupted.
The remaining two criminals had been forced to their knees, and regular police had secured them with special handcuffs that nullified their ability to use their Quirks.
Mount Lady, the heroine of the operation, stood up and flashed a wide smile, it was, after all, her debut appearances. She even treated some male spectators to an excellent view of her shapely backside, thanks to her tight-fitting costume… Much to the dismay of Kamui Woods, who facepalmed with his free hand while the four criminals he had captured continued their futile struggles.
However, in the middle of the crowd, there was a boy with messy green hair, his emerald eyes sparkling, not for the same reason as many of the other men.
A notebook in one hand, a pen in the other, he was taking notes. Writing down everything he could. Quirks, costumes, theories he could formulate. He was scribbling so fast and with such intensity that, metaphorically speaking, one might have felt the page heating up, and see the tip of his pen turning red-hot.
The name of this boy was Izuku Midoriya.
… And he was currently late for school…
Realization struck him, and the green-haired boy's eyes widened like saucers.
"Crap!"
He took off like a missile, shoving past pedestrians who groaned and swore in annoyance. One even shouted an insult at him.
But the boy didn't care as he sprinted like a madman.
Izuku Midoriya was a boy who, at first glance, could be called ordinary.
No imposing physique, no visible mutations, a face that could be described as babyish for his age due to his large emerald eyes and freckles, everything about him seemed normal for a human being.
However, in this world, he possessed something that shouldn't be normal, but had become so over time.
A Quirk. Oh, it wasn't much, just a small-scale telekinesis he had inherited from his mother. He could only move small objects. Anything heavier than five kilograms was beyond his ability, in fact, he would be lifted instead.
However, his range was quite big, which differentiated it from his mother's, which was rather limited. That was what allowed him to move faster at the moment. His Quirk was the first thing he had analyzed in-depth, and he put that analysis to full use.
What he did was latch telekinetically onto a pole or any heavy, fixed object and pull himself toward it. Since the object was heavier than he was, it allowed him to accelerate, sharp turns were something he had mastered… Provided that nothing unexpected happened…
Like that perfectly placed pile of dog crap in the middle of the street.
Izuku tried to stop himself in an instant, but… things didn't go as planned. In the end, he tripped while trying to jump over it and tumbled across the ground. Well, at least he had avoided stepping in the mess, but now he was covered in dust.
It was only then that he realized he had actually arrived in front of Aldera, and that several people were staring at him.
Izuku quickly got to his feet, dusting himself off and shrinking under the attention he was receiving…
Attention he wasn't used to…
Usually, his classmates either ignored him or left him alone… Or…
He climbed the stairs to the upper floors and walked through the hallways filled with students who were finishing settling into their classes before the teachers arrived… Finally, he reached his classroom door, took a deep breath, and stepped inside…
Maybe today would be better? Maybe he would be in a good mood? Maybe he'd focus on someone else instead? No, it wasn't right to think that way, Izuku wouldn't wish that on anyone…
"DEKU!"
Izuku felt a deep, irrational fear in his gut as the voice thundered through the room…
"K-Kacchan…", stammered the greenette in an almost panicked tone, becoming as rigid as a block of cement, before turning around very… very slowly…
A hand rested on his shoulder when he was only halfway turned.
The boy felt his blood freeze in his veins, his whole body locking up as if trapped in ice, his skin turning almost white. A little more, and he would have literally shit himself…
The face of his 'childhood friend' and tormentor, Katsuki 'Kacchan' Bakugo, appeared at the edge of his vision. He wore his usual predatory grin, one that promised nothing but pain, both physical and psychological…
"How are you today?" asked the explosive blond, a heat radiating from the hand he kept on the greenette's shoulder.
Oh. It was going to be that kind of day… He was way too calm right now… And Izuku felt his stomach churn with fear…
"G-G-Good…" the boy stammered in response.
"That's just perfect! Come on, let's go to your seat, I'll walk you there…" the explosive blond suggested, and Izuku didn't have the guts to refuse…
Kacchan led him, and the heat on his shoulder intensified to the point that smoke began to rise. The greenette could almost feel his blood boiling and his skin cooking, the pain becoming unbearable little by little…
But Izuku remained silent like a well-trained dog… If he opened his mouth for even a second, he knew it would end badly… Very badly…
Izuku heard two distinct laughs, probably the lackeys of the pomeranian, who followed him like loyal servants…
Finally, they reached the greenette's seat, and Kacchan pulled out the chair, its feet screeching against the floor…
Izuku felt a strong pressure on his shoulder, forcing him down onto the chair. He sat, obedient like a dog on a leash… The explosive blond leaned in, opened his mouth, and—
"Sit down in your seats!" the voice of their teacher suddenly rang out as the classroom door opened.
Kacchan growled, annoyed at being interrupted, and slammed Izuku's head onto the desk with a resounding 'BAM!' before walking away.
The greenette raised his hands to his aching forehead, grimacing in pain before sitting back up… Damn, that hurt…
The teacher looked at him but, as always, said absolutely nothing. Kacchan's quirk was far too strong and powerful for anyone to say anything to him, he had the support of the whole staff... The man simply walked to his desk, a small satchel full of paperwork under his arm, as silence settled over the class now that everyone was seated…
Classes began. Japanese history, mathematics, English, and a whole host of other subjects.
The only breaks were recess and lunchtime. Unfortunately, Izuku didn't get to enjoy them, constantly harassed as he was… All because his 'childhood friend' saw his quirk as weak…
Finally, the day ended. However, just before the class could get up to leave, their teacher raised a hand, stopping them.
"Stay calm for a moment, please…" he instructed before opening his satchel to take out some papers. "We've finally received the responses from the schools you applied to… Some are positive, others negative…"
The man began handing out the letters, and the reactions were extremely varied.
Some grimaced and groaned, while others squealed with joy. Then, only Izuku and Bakugo remained.
The teacher fell silent for a moment…
"And finally… Izuku Midoriya and Katsuki Bakugo… You two are quite special cases. Know that our school is honored to have two students aiming so high, you make us proud. Your applications to U.A. have been accepted."
The man pulled out two leather-bound booklets, marked with the school's logo, and handed them to the two boys…
The greenette took his. A deep sense of pride filled him. The texture of the leather under his fingers felt like a victory in itself…
Suddenly, an overwhelming pressure crashed down on him. Slowly… very slowly, he raised his eyes, his heart pounding in his chest.
Kacchan was staring at him intensely, as if the world around them no longer existed, as if he were the only thing in the room. His crimson eyes burned with a rage and hatred so intense that the greenette felt like he could be incinerated on the spot within seconds.
The blond's fists clenched and unclenched, sparks and smoke occasionally escaping from his palms.
The greenette swallowed down his pride, joy and excitement.
He had made a mistake…
A very big mistake…
…
-WHAM!-
Izuku screamed in pain as his back slammed hard against the wall behind him.
But Kacchan didn't stop there… The blond followed up with a punch to his stomach, making Izuku double over, tears spilling from his eyes…
He even fell to one knee, both arms clutching his abdomen…
"WHAT DID YOU THINK, DEKU? THAT YOU COULD COMPETE WITH ME? WITH YOUR SHITTY QUIRK?"
The greenette could only emit a pained whimper when he tried to muster something.
Kacchan laughed.
"COME ON, CRY, YOU PATHETIC DEKU! CRY UNTIL THERE ARE NO TEARS LEFT IN YOUR SHITTY BODY! COME ON! I CAN'T HEAR YOUR WAILING!"
He kicked Izuku in the ribs, sending him sprawling to the side, even more tears streaming down his cheeks.
Kacchan kicked him again.
"COME ON! CRY, YOU WORTHLESS PIECE OF SHIT! NO WONDER YOUR DAD LEFT YOU AND YOUR FAMILY! HIS SON IS NOTHING BUT TRASH!"
The explosive blond's lackeys snickered, chanting 'worthless! worthless!' like broken record players.
Kacchan placed a foot on the side of Izuku's face, pressing it against the cement while small explosions popped from his hands.
"COME ON, DEKU!"
The blond opened his bag, pulled out the U.A. booklet, and began waving it around.
"Hmm, I wonder what would happen if I burned it right here, right now…" he taunted.
And that's when Izuku didn't know what came over him.
He activated his quirk and snatched the blond's bag away, sending it flying toward a tree… The bag nearly fell into the fountain before landing on the ground.
Everyone froze.
Izuku himself widened his eyes in horror, realizing what he had just done…
Oh, he was going to pay.
Or maybe not.
A surge of adrenaline flooded his body, and he managed to push Kacchan over, making him fall onto his back with a grunt.
Izuku telekinetically yanked the booklet from the blond's grasp and took off in a sprint, panic surging through him.
"DEKU!" roared the blond in a fury as black as night, scrambling to his feet to give chase.
Izuku ran as fast as his legs would carry him.
Why had he done that? Why?
Now he was screwed, it was only going to get worse. What an idiot he was…
He shot through the school's front gate like a missile, knocking over two classmates before making a sharp right turn, the rubber of his shoes screeching against the pavement as he skidded before bolting away like a rabbit.
Kacchan did the same, looking more like a bloodthirsty wild beast than anything else.
"GET OVER HERE, YOU SON OF A BITCH!" yelled the explosive blonde.
For once, Izuku chose not to obey the demand and used his quirk to accelerate. He pushed past pedestrians and others, but right now, he didn't care. Right now, his survival was all that mattered.
Kacchan, on the other hand, was a true bulldozer. The blonde didn't give a damn about the people in his way, shoving them aside and ramming into them like a bull without hesitation, even knocking a few over with such force. He was locked onto the greenette and wouldn't let go.
He almost looked like a guided missile, because, in a way, he was.
Then, after a while, Izuku reached a crosswalk where the light was red. Still gripped by fear, he sharply turned into another street, he didn't have the luxury of waiting, and dove into the first dark alley he found. He hid behind a dumpster and quickly peeked out.
Kacchan sped past the entrance of the alley at full speed without even thinking to check inside.
He had lost him.
Izuku let himself slide down against the dumpster's side before sitting on the grimy ground…
And cried.
He let out all his fear and stress in the form of hot tears running down his cheeks.
Goddammit… What kind of shit had he gotten himself into?
Whatever it was, it was deep…
Izuku took some time to recover from the wild chase, inhaling and exhaling to steady his breathing and calm his racing heart… Slowly, he got back up, using one hand to push himself off the dumpster lid.
He moved toward the alley's entrance, cautiously looked left and right…
No one…
Summoning his courage, he carefully stepped out of the alley, still on edge.
Several passersby gave him confused and surprised glances for a few seconds before continuing on their way.
Other than that, he was ignored.
Now that he could finally look at the streets, Izuku saw they were packed with people. Cars sped down the road one after another, and occasionally, police cars could be seen among them.
As he walked, he also noticed a pair of heroes patrolling or talking with civilians.
Izuku would have loved to go see them, but the crowd was too dense… And besides… It wasn't just heroes out here…
As he passed by a store, a hand suddenly shot out from a recess in the wall, making the greenette jump.
It belonged to an elderly man, maybe 70 years old, thin and skeletal, with sparse gray hair framing a face marred by sunken or deformed places of his skull, along with an unkempt beard sprouting tufts of hair in all directions.
The old man was dressed in what remained of an old military-style uniform, with one sleeve dangling empty, evidence of a missing arm.
A standard uniform that everyone could recognize, especially with the symbol on the helmet lying at his bare, honestly disgusting, feet.
This man was a former member of the Astra Militarum. What regiment he belonged to was impossible to tell, his gear was either too varied or too standardized.
The man mumbled something, drool dripping from one side of his mouth, and Izuku instinctively took a step back. He couldn't say 'gross', this was a human being, but… It was something particular to witness…
There was a time, long before he was born, his mother had told him about it, when countless veterans found themselves wandering the streets for the rest of their days… And sometimes, things turned bad…
Back then, heroes had lost their lives.
The veterans who were still capable of action had grouped together, forming either vigilante groups or gangs. In both cases, they weren't just street thugs playing tough, they were hardened, trained soldiers who knew how to react, fight and act in the face of an opponent…
That was why the Arbites had apparently been reinforced… And why they'd had to use lethal force sometimes…
In those cases, heroes stayed out of it, and everything was swept under the rug…
So how did people know about it? The media, as always. Witness testimonies. The representatives of the IMPERIUM had apologized each time, promising to do something…
Nothing was ever done.
But the flood of information had drowned it all out anyway, and now only politicians still talked about it… Even though every discussion led straight into a wall.
Many people today claimed these were just rumors or fabricated stories, that nothing had really happened. Some civil authorities had even investigated a possible MLA affiliation among these individuals. Apparently, some had been involved, and they had disappeared from the radar, probably imprisoned, while those with no connection were simply placed under police surveillance for a while…
The veteran groaned again, and Izuku quickly decided to leave…
It wasn't uncommon for these people to keep a service weapon, and the greenette had no desire to be near someone who might have lost his head and had a pistol within reach.
He passed by stores, hero agencies, apartment blocks. He turned right, left, left again, right, left so many times, following his mental map of the noisy urban jungle until he finally arrived in a much quieter neighborhood…
This was a residential area on the outskirts, far from the chaotic city center, especially because of the Might Tower that loomed there (journalists swarmed the area every day).
Several hab-blocks stood in orderly rows, with some green spaces and playgrounds for children. It was relatively peaceful here, they hadn't had too many problems in the surrounding area.
No villains, no illicit substance or arms trafficking, no hideouts or safe houses…
Well, it helped that over sixty percent of the residents were retirees, what would old people do in such activities?
If there was any issue, it was the drunks from Block E, but the worst they did was scare people at night when they passed by.
Izuku carefully scanned the open area he had to cross.
If Kacchan was extremely brutal, aggressive, and vengeful, he was certainly not stupid.
On the contrary, his intelligence placed him at the very top of the class in terms of grades, with Izuku right behind him…
The greenette wouldn't be surprised if Kacchan had realized he'd been tricked like a rookie…
Which must have made him even angrier…
Or maybe he was waiting right in front of his apartment door, which would trap Izuku for a while since his mother wouldn't be home until late at night…
Damn… Shit!
He was stuck in a tough dilemma… Move forward and risk getting beaten up, or stay hidden for potentially no reason.
Oh, to hell with it.
Summoning his courage, he adjusted his backpack and stepped forward… Only to immediately lose his nerves when he spotted blonde hair behind a bush.
He stopped abruptly, almost losing his balance, and was about to change course when the person stood up from a bench.
False alarm, it was just a man talking on the phone.
Izuku continued moving forward, slowly, going so far as to hide behind cover. Sometimes a dumpster, sometimes a tree trunk or a bush. Always on alert.
Everything seemed muffled by the pounding of his heart and the stress flooding his body.
Right, left, his green eyes endlessly scanned for danger. Relentlessly, without a second lost each time he blinked.
Finally, he reached the stairs.
Bakugo hadn't ambushed him outside, but there was still the possibility of him waiting at the apartment door.
Izuku climbed the steps one by one, keeping his center of gravity low, ears straining to catch the slightest sound.
His soul nearly left his body when a cat jumped in front of him and hissed.
Izuku felt way too light, as if he was floating and ascending. No, not now. Not before he achieved his dream.
He kept climbing and finally reached his floor.
Instead of stepping out immediately, he crouched on the stairs, placed a hand against the wall, and took a quick peek…
Empty.
There was no one there.
Reassured, the greenette got up and stepped forward, pulling the apartment key from his pocket. He inserted it into the lock. It was only once inside that he completely relaxed. Here, he could be in no danger…
He turned on the entryway light and left his bag in a corner before going to wash his hands. After that, he went to grab something to eat, a biscuit or something of the sort. Then, he made a quick stop at the restroom before finally picking up his bag and heading to his room.
However, instead of doing his homework as usual, he collapsed onto his bed and stared at the ceiling… He could already tell that the end of primary school was going to be painfully rough…
Kacchan never forgot this kind of offense easily.
He never did…
/
Somewhere else…
Far from Izuku's room, far from his neighborhood.
Far from the noisy city center.
Far from the dark streets and alleys teeming with criminals and gangs.
On an elevated terrain overlooking Musutafu stood a magnificient titan of glass and steel, a building so grand that, on rare occasions, it could almost obscure the setting sun.
U.A.
In Japan, it was a symbol. A symbol of heroism, success, a bastion of light against darkness. The great school had always been so. Many great heroes had come here to study and perfect their skills to become the best of the best, and that tradition continued to this day.
At this time of year, the titan was running at full capacity. Classes had been over for quite some time, the graduation ceremonies having taken up all the time, along with preparations for the new generation of first-year students…
The teachers were returning, preparing, holding meetings, discussing the curriculum, deciding what was important or not, what would be prioritized or not…
The hallways were mostly empty, but today, the sound of metal clicking filled them…
…
Nezu was a very busy being.
Yes, a being. He was not human, far from it.
He was an experiment. A mix between a bear, a rat, and a dog. A chimera born from the deepest government laboratories in Japan before those in which he was created were shut down due to unethical experimentation methods.
And yet, look at him now, principal of Japan's greatest hero school, a pro hero, one of the rare cases of an animal developing a quirk… and one of the most intelligent beings on Earth. Fascinating, isn't it?
According to the Imperium's classifications, he was categorized as a Kappa class, but due to his highly particular situation, he also had to be stamped with the status of Abhuman.
Humans honestly amused him. Always classifying, always ranking everything…
It was funny.
That was what he was thinking about as he filled out paperwork that would normally require an entire administrative team, secretaries, financial managers, and so on, all while sipping a cup of tea he kept on a cart beside him.
But Nezu didn't need all that. He sorted, arranged, and processed everything in due time, from the most important to the least. For example, he should handle the finances first and leave the new measures sent by the IMPERIUM for last…
These measures, by the way, were easily recognizable among the piles of papers and empty ink pens. They were sealed inside ash-black envelopes, closed with a golden seal bearing the insignia of the organization known as the Adeptus Terra…
The chimera finished signing a document, picked up another, and quickly overlooked it. Hmm, it seemed he would need to make a phone call for this one… The bank would be a great help with that.
However, just as he was reaching for the phone, a knock-knock sounded at the door.
Nezu lifted his eyes, slightly surprised. Oh? Who could it be? He had no scheduled meetings at the moment, and the HSPC rarely sent representatives here, especially due to their ideological disagreements with him…
"Enter!" he called in a high-pitched, friendly voice that remained professional and composed.
The door opened, and the usual silence of the office was immediately filled with the sound of machinery. Nezu settled comfortably into his chair, reaching for his cup of tea to take a sip as two figures stepped inside.
The first was a short, stocky man with messy red hair, moving with energy and enthusiasm, though his gait betrayed a certain restraint and professionalism. He wore a yellow helmet shaped like a mechanical jaw, a mix between an excavator shovel and a dinosaur's head, with crenellated, articulated plating covering his face, leaving only a fierce grin visible.
The man was shirtless, displaying a physique forged through sweat and effort, both in his torso and arms. His hands were encased in gray gauntlets extending nearly to his elbows, reinforced with plated protection on top, and ending in orange claw-like attachments resembling small shovels.
"Good day, Principal! It's been a while since we last saw or spoke to each other," Power Loader greeted, to which Nezu nodded and returned a smile, setting his teacup down before him.
"Indeed, it has been a long time," the chimera confirmed, before turning his attention to the second figure…
What followed Power Loader inside, however, was something else entirely.
A towering man, draped in a long crimson robe with white crenellated borders, embroidered with esoteric symbols, white skulls and cogwheels. His face was concealed beneath a broad hood, but the green glow of cybernetic optics shone from the shadows, scanning the environment with inhuman coldness.
The few visible parts of his body were an intricate web of cables, power tubes, and servo-arms, some of which twitched independently from a massive pack on his back, like steel serpents searching for a grip.
The machine-man did not speak immediately, merely tilting his head in a mathematically precise motion to analyze Nezu, who calmly allowed the examination. The crackle of a vox-grid preceded his cold, empty voice.
"Identification confirmed. Subject: Nezu, administrator. Social interaction protocol… processing. Good day, Principal."
Nezu gave a slight nod and offered a smile. It wasn't necessary, but Nezu treated all his staff equally…
"Good day to you as well, Magos Zeta-Epsilon-8. I trust you had a good rest."
The assistant to Power Loader emitted a hissing sound as a piston adjusted before replying.
"The pursuit of knowledge in the name of the Omnissiah does not permit us to rest, Principal," the cyborg clicked again before continuing, "Law No. 7: Understanding is the key to all things."
The chimera slowly nodded.
"Of course, my apologies."
The Magos gave no verbal response, merely clicking and hissing before leaning on his staff, which crackled with energy. Nezu turned his head toward Power Loader.
"Let's get straight to the point, please. What brings you here unexpectedly?"
The head of the Support Course took a deep breath before beginning his explanation.
"Alright. Well, we have received new directives from the IMPERIUM regarding our entrance exam, particularly from a technical standpoint concerning the physical portion of the test and—"
Zeta-Epsilon-8 then spoke, completely ignoring the fact that he had just interrupted the redhead. His green optics remained fixed on Nezu, and the chimera knew he was being assessed at every moment. This was also why he maintained a professional facade.
The followers of the Adeptus Mechanicus were known for using one's weaknesses against them.
"Since the fall of the United States, the IMPERIUM has lost its primary defense. However, if this defeat has proven anything, it is that exactly 77.5713% of the heroes deployed were far too inexperienced to react adequately."
His body hissed, and one of his servo-arms, equipped with a claw, snapped aggressively.
"The answer to this is simple. Your schools have failed," the Magos stated in his cold, unwavering tone. "The methods employed by the Ministries of Education have proven ineffective in dangerous situations. Operational methods have been non-optimal in nearly 95% of cases, allowing the enemy to advance without significant resistance and to overwhelm defenses."
The Magos adjusted his position, and a mechanism in his body whined, producing a sound akin to a hydraulic press engaging.
"Correction. Hero training schools have not failed. They were obsolete from the moment of their conception. Their organizational structure is based on outdated parameters, unsuitable for the tactical realities of modern combat. The doctrines established by the Ministry of Education are founded on emotional and pedagogical considerations, resulting in an operational efficiency loss estimated at 53.9221%."
A mechanical arm emerged from beneath his robes, revealing a screen glowing with a sickly green hue, projecting a massive amount of data. Nezu followed every single piece of information, failure curves, intervention statistics, and success probabilities across various scenarios.
Hmm. Interesting and impressive, there wasn't a single error in the calculations… They were entirely accurate. Nezu stored them in his memory as the Magos retracted the servo-arm back into his robes.
"Objection. Heroes and the IMPERIUM must be the defenders of humanity. Humanity does not tolerate failure. Failure is a mistake. A mistake is an anomaly. An anomaly is a weakness. A weakness is a defeat."
The Magos paused for a few seconds.
"And defeat is unacceptable."
Another pause followed, and Nezu let the machine-man continue without interruption.
"Solution. Immediate restructuring of selection and training procedures. Increased stress factors. Realistic combat conditions. Reduction of tolerated error margins."
The Magos finally ceased speaking, and for a moment, the only thing audible in the room was the mechanical clicking of his internal components. Being in the same space as a member of the Adeptus Mechanicus often meant abandoning any hope of silence.
With so many electro-circuits, micro-gears, and servo-motors powering the machinery that composed part of their bodies, the noise was incessant… But tolerable.
The chimera's only response was to reach for his teacup and take a sip. A small sigh escaped him as he felt the liquid warm his throat, then he set the cup down again.
The Magos seemed slightly disconcerted by his reaction, betrayed by a momentary dimming of his optics. However, any sign of weakness was swiftly suppressed by his protocols, and his usual brightness returned.
"Magos, you seem to forget that we are, above all, a school, not an indoctrination center for the Militarum." The chimera made a vague gesture with his paw. "We accept that certain Chapters use our facilities for their needs, but we are not here to indoctrinate children. Reducing the number of candidates is possible, we can lower the intake for first-year classes from 30 students to 20; that would be manageable. However, the ethics of our Ministry of Education will not allow any risks to be imposed on our applicants."
The Magos tightened his grip on his power staff, and his vox-grid crackled. Power Loader dared not intervene. Though he maintained his usual fierce grin, his discomfort was palpable.
This was now a debate between two great intellects, and he could sense that he had no place in the room at that moment.
"Ethical parameter irrelevant. If recruitment rates drop below the acceptable threshold, only the strongest will be trained. Absolute optimization. Inefficiency eliminated."
Power Loader finally found the courage to speak, having remained a bystander for most of the discussion.
"Magos, listen, I understand what you're trying to do, I understand what the IMPERIUM wants to do, but we're not a camp that trains Astartes, we cannot—"
The Magos' torso whipped around at a speed that startled the man, who instinctively stepped back as the cyborg's optics fixed on him with their cold intensity.
"Incorrect comparison. Different objective." There was a brief pause, as if to elicit an emotional reaction. "Aspirant Astartes are designed for war from their conception."
Nezu let out an empty laugh, and the machine-man turned his head back toward him.
"And our students are just children. I agree with my colleague on that matter."
Zeta-Epsilon-8 did not immediately respond. A low hum emanated from his vox-grid, as if it were rebooting, before his voice returned, though it was slightly more strident than before.
"Correction. They are resources. Strategic reserves. Resources must be optimized for their functions. Conflict does not tolerate inefficiency."
Nezu placed a paw on the table and gently tapped the wood with his claws, his ever-present smile unwavering.
"You are a pragmatist, Magos, and I respect that. But there is one factor you fail to account for in your proposals." He paused, locking eyes with the green optics of the tech-priest, then continued in his ever-calm tone, "Heroism is not bound by logic."
Zeta-Epsilon-8 tilted his head slightly, the only indication of his intrigue.
"Equation unresolved. Please elaborate."
Nezu took another sip of tea before answering.
"The irrational. Hope. The unexpected. Parameters you cannot quantify… and yet, they are often the key to victory."
Silence fell over the room. Power Loader looked at Nezu with a small smile, then turned his gaze to the Magos, curious to see his reaction.
Zeta-Epsilon-8 did not speak immediately. His vox-grid crackled, his fingers tapped rhythmically against his staff, then he took a step back, computing the response carefully.
"Processing… Analysis of irrational factors… Resolution improbable… Observation required."
The servo-arms of the machine-man folded methodically behind his back.
"Proposal: Observation of reform in real conditions. Empirical data necessary before modifying parameters. Acceptable?"
Nezu slowly nodded.
"Acceptable. We shall see if your logic and my intuition can align."
Silence settled again, interrupted only by the faint hissing of the Magos' internal pistons. Then, with calculated motion, he inclined his head once more.
"Consensus established. Transition to observation phase. End of discussion."
Nezu nodded, finally reassured that he had managed to reach a point of agreement with the machine priest… They were know as very stubborn beings, and looked at Power Loader.
"You have my authorization to proceed with your projects as you see fit. However, I will require a demonstration before the day of the exam." His gaze then shifted to the cyborg. "Magos, I trust you will not exceed your prerogatives within this establishment."
The vox-grid of the Tech-Priest crackled.
"Affirmative. End of social interaction. Returning to primary functions."
Without another word, the cyborg turned around and headed for the door. Aware that he was no longer listening, Nezu stated.
"Power Loader, keep an eye on the Magos. One can never be too cautious with representatives of the Mechanicus. If necessary, report his actions to Brother Sergeant Vel of Beta Squad, he will provide me with a full report in case of problems."
Power Loader hesitated for a moment, then nodded before leaving the room to join his assistant. The office door closed, and Nezu once again found himself in silence...
In the end, he should probably prioritize handling the letters from the IMPERIUM.
Alright! So the clarifications.
Arbites: As you might have noticed it in their description, they are said to be rapid response teams to dangerous situations... Basically take the Max Tac from Cyberpunk 2077 and throw them here. They works almost the same already. So yeah... That's it for them...
The Mechanicus: Of course they need to be mentionned, after all, they're the main techy guys of our beloved grimdark universe! Now, since Mars isn't colonized, or forge worlds don't exist, the Adeptus Mechanicus is on Earth. Let's take a huge leap back in time, and go back to the Industrial Aqe where everything we know started. Gigantic factories, forges, assembly workshops... Etc... Here you got your Mechanicus!
Quirk classification: Okay, that is one hard bit to explain. Basically, the Imperium classifies the psykers it got, so I actually decided to try and adapt that ranking... To quirks. It goes from Omega Minus (-7) on the scale, to Omega Plus (+40). Don't worry, each rank will have an explanation, I already prepared a document that might appear in a later chapter. So don't worry! Just be patient!
The small guardsman bit... Okay, two things inspired me. First, the state of US vets that came back from operation, but also the short story 'Missing In Action' written by Dan Abnett. I know some may be familiar with it, for others, well, I won't spoil anything to them!
Speaking of small stories, I have a question to ask.
Really.
Would some of you like me to expand the crossover out of simply the main story plot? Create another story to post one shots or short stories about both side characters in MHA, organizations we rarely heard about in Warhammer, or even characters that may not appear in this story? Lemme know about that.
Back on the story! Yes, I changed a lot of things. Izuku won't get one for all, the plot requires it, but heh, let's do this! And Bakugo isn't nice... Well, we all knew that, but I decided to push that to extremes...
With that tho, I'll say goodbye and see you all next time!