The soft blue glow of Izuku's laptop screen illuminated his freckled face in the darkness of his bedroom. All Might merchandise surrounded him—action figures on shelves, posters covering nearly every inch of wall space, and even his bedsheets bore the iconic smile of the Symbol of Peace. It was well past midnight, but Izuku couldn't sleep. Not when he'd spent the entire day working on the latest chapter of his hero analysis fanfiction.
"Just one more check," he whispered to himself, clicking refresh on his browser. The familiar layout of loaded, and his heart leapt when he saw the notification: [1 new review].
His fingers trembled slightly as he clicked to see the feedback. Writing had become his refuge—a way to channel his hero analysis into stories where quirkless characters could become heroes through strategy and determination. Each comment felt like validation that maybe, just maybe, he had something to offer the world despite being quirkless himself.
The review loaded, and Izuku's excited smile slowly faded.
"Great story! I'm an artist looking to build my portfolio. I'd love to draw your characters! Check out my work at and DM me for rates!"
Izuku's shoulders slumped. It wasn't a review at all—just someone trying to sell something. He'd seen these before, copy-pasted across different stories without any indication the "artist" had actually read a single word he'd written.
"Not again," he muttered, running a hand through his messy green hair.
He clicked on the username—ArtistProdigy99—and checked their profile. They had no stories of their own, and their account had been created just three days ago. Scrolling through their activity showed they'd left the exact same message on dozens of stories in the past 24 hours alone.
Curiosity piqued, Izuku opened a new tab and carefully typed in the website from the review. The site that loaded was a garish collection of clearly stolen artwork with watermarks poorly edited out. A knot formed in his stomach as he recognized several pieces from popular artists he followed online.
"This isn't right," he whispered, biting his lower lip.
Izuku opened his hero analysis notebook—volume 14—and flipped to a blank page, writing "Fanfiction Scammer Investigation" at the top. He began meticulously documenting everything he observed, the same way he analyzed heroes and their quirks.
He returned to and began clicking through the most recently updated My Hero Academia stories. In the reviews section of nearly every popular fic, he found similar comments:
"Love this! I can draw your OC for only $20! /cheap"
"Amazing chapter! Want to see your characters come to life? I do commissions starting at $15. Contact me at "
"Fantastic writing! I'm offering special discounts on character art this week only. Message me or visit "
Izuku's green eyes narrowed as he documented each one, checking their profiles and finding the same pattern—new accounts, no published works, identical messages posted at inhuman speeds. Some of the websites didn't even exist, while others showed stolen artwork or demanded payment upfront with no samples provided.
"They're targeting everyone," he realized aloud. "Not just the big stories, but new writers too."
He thought about how excited he'd been to see that notification, how quickly that excitement had turned to disappointment. How many other writers experienced the same thing? How many new authors might abandon their stories, thinking no one cared enough to leave real feedback?
"This isn't fair," Izuku said, closing his notebook with determination. His hands clenched into fists as he opened a new document on his computer. "If no one else is going to stop them, then I'll have to do it myself."
He began typing furiously, outlining a plan with the same detail he devoted to hero analysis:
Document all scammer accounts and their patterns
Create a warning post on the MHA fanfiction forums
Develop a browser extension that could identify and flag suspicious reviews
Contact site administrators with evidence
The clock on his desk showed 3:27 AM, but Izuku didn't feel tired anymore. For once, he'd found a problem he might actually be able to solve—not with a quirk, but with his observation skills and determination.
"Even without a quirk," he whispered to himself, glancing up at the All Might poster above his desk, "I can still help people."
The Symbol of Peace smiled down at him, as if in approval.
Three days had passed since Izuku submitted his detailed report to the administrators. His inbox remained empty, his support ticket still marked as "Under Review," and the scammer accounts continued to proliferate across the site. Each morning, he checked his own story's comments section to find two or three new fake reviews from different accounts, all following the same pattern.
Izuku sat cross-legged on his bed, hero analysis notebook open beside him, chewing thoughtfully on his pen. The afternoon sun streamed through his window, illuminating the dust particles floating in the air. His All Might alarm clock showed 4:32 PM.
"If they won't help, I need to find someone who can," he muttered, reaching for his phone.
He scrolled through his contacts. Most were classmates who hardly spoke to him, certainly not people who could help with something like this. But there, near the bottom of his list, were two names he rarely called but knew could make a difference: "Gojo Satoru" and "Jimmy Neutron."
They had met at last year's Multiversal Hero-Genius Convention in Tokyo—an event Izuku had saved up for months to attend. Despite their different worlds and abilities, they had bonded over curry bread in the food court and exchanged numbers. Izuku had been too starstruck to imagine he'd ever actually use them.
"It's worth a try," he said, tapping on Jimmy's contact first.
The phone rang three times before a boyish voice answered, the sound of mechanical whirring and beeping audible in the background.
"Neutron Labs, Jimmy speaking!"
"H-hi, Jimmy? This is Izuku Midoriya. We met at the convention last—"
"Green hair, hero analysis notebooks, quirkless but brilliant observation skills!" Jimmy interrupted cheerfully. "How could I forget? You provided exceptional feedback on my portable quantum stabilizer design."
Izuku blushed, still not used to receiving praise. "I need your help with something. Could I conference in one more person? Gojo Satoru?"
"The limitless jujutsu sorcerer? Fascinating! I've been meaning to study his infinity manipulation techniques."
After getting Jimmy's agreement, Izuku added Gojo to the call.
"Yo, Midoriya-kun!" Gojo's casual, confident voice came through immediately. "Missing my awesome presence already? Can't blame you."
Despite the serious situation, Izuku couldn't help but smile. Gojo's blindfolded face appeared in his mind, along with that ever-present smirk beneath it.
"I need help from both of you," Izuku explained, his voice growing stronger as he outlined the scammer situation. He detailed how these accounts were targeting vulnerable writers, stealing artwork, and scamming people out of money. He explained how the site administrators were ignoring reports and how the scammers were becoming more sophisticated each day.
"So basically," Gojo summarized, sounding amused, "these weak scammers are ruining your favorite website and nobody's doing anything about it."
"Fascinating problem!" Jimmy added. "A digital insurgency exploiting emotional vulnerabilities in creative communities."
"Can you help?" Izuku asked. "I was thinking if we could somehow access their servers..."
"Breaking into servers?" Jimmy's voice rose an octave. "That's technically illegal in most jurisdictions, Izuku."
"Not if we're invited," Gojo countered smoothly. "And with my infinity, I could potentially create a digital barrier between—"
"Or," Jimmy interrupted, his tone shifting to excitement, "we could use my Virtual Reality Neural Interface! I've been developing it for scientific simulation purposes, but with some modifications..."
"Could it work?" Izuku asked, hope rising in his chest.
"Theoretically, yes. Instead of breaking into their servers physically, we create a virtual environment that interfaces with their system. We'd be digital visitors rather than hackers."
"I like it," Gojo said. "Less boring than traditional methods."
"It's settled then," Jimmy declared. "I'll need about 48 hours to reconfigure my VR-NI system. Gojo, can you manage transportation to my lab?"
"Piece of cake. Infinity makes distance irrelevant."
Izuku closed his eyes, relief washing over him. "Thank you both. Really."
"Don't thank us yet, Midoriya-kun," Gojo replied, his voice carrying that dangerous edge that reminded everyone why he was considered the strongest. "We haven't crushed these bugs yet."
"I'll send you both the specifications and meeting coordinates," Jimmy said, keyboard clicks audible through the phone. "Izuku, bring your analysis notes. Gojo, bring your... well, just bring yourself I suppose."
"Always do," Gojo laughed.
As the call ended, Izuku looked down at his notebook—pages filled with meticulously documented scammer patterns, website URLs, and account creation timelines. For once, his analytical skills might make a real difference.
"Operation Scammer Takedown," he wrote at the top of a fresh page, underlining it twice.
Outside his window, the sun began to set, casting long shadows across his room. In 48 hours, they would enter the digital world of —a boy genius with technology beyond his years, a jujutsu sorcerer with limitless power, and a quirkless teenager with the heart of a hero.
The scammers wouldn't know what hit them.
Chapter 3: Entering the Digital World
The basement lab in Jimmy Neutron's house hummed with the soft whir of advanced machinery. Multiple monitors displayed cascading lines of code while a holographic projection of the server architecture rotated in the center of the room. Three VR headsets sat on a workbench—two connected to reclining chairs, the third set aside.
Jimmy Neutron, his distinctive ice cream-swirl hairstyle bobbing as he moved, made final adjustments to the system. He wore his signature red shirt with the atom symbol and blue jeans, fingers flying across three keyboards simultaneously.
"The Virtual Reality Neural Interface is calibrated and ready," Jimmy announced, gesturing to the two chairs. "Gojo and Izuku, you'll be our field agents. I'll monitor from here and provide technical support through your comms."
Gojo Satoru lounged against the wall, his lean figure dressed in the standard black attire of Jujutsu High, complete with his blindfold covering his dangerous eyes. He spun his VR headset on one finger, looking bored yet somehow alert at the same time.
"So we're going digital ghost hunting?" he asked, stretching his arms overhead. "Sounds less exciting than crushing cursed spirits, but I'm game."
Izuku nodded earnestly, his freckled face serious as he clutched his notebook. He wore his usual school uniform—a grey jacket over a white shirt and green tie—having come directly from UA. "These scammers have been hurting writers and artists for too long," he said, determination evident in his green eyes.
Jimmy handed each of them a sleek, modified VR headset. "These aren't ordinary VR systems. They'll translate your consciousness into digital avatars with preserves your abilities—theoretically, anyway."
"Theoretically?" Izuku gulped.
"93.2% certainty," Jimmy clarified with a shrug. "Good enough!"
Gojo chuckled, sliding the headset over his blindfold. "I like those odds."
Izuku took a deep breath and put on his headset, settling into one of the recliners.
"Initiating neural transfer in three... two... one..." Jimmy flipped a switch, and the lab disappeared.
The digital world materialized around them like shattered glass reassembling. Izuku blinked, adjusting to the strange environment. They stood on what appeared to be an endless plain of black gridlines against a dark blue background. Geometric shapes floated by—red cubes, green pyramids, yellow spheres—all trailing lines of glowing code. Above them, massive streams of data flowed like rivers in the sky, pulsing with light.
"Whoa," Izuku breathed, looking down at his hands. His digital avatar appeared similar to his real body, but with faint green lines of code occasionally rippling across his skin.
"Not bad," Gojo commented, examining his own form. His avatar was outlined in shimmering blue light, and tiny infinity symbols occasionally flickered around him when he moved.
Jimmy's voice came through clearly in their minds. "Welcome to the digital representation of 's server architecture! What you're seeing is my brain's interpretation of raw data, rendered into visual form you can interact with."
"It's incredible," Izuku said, watching as a stream of golden pixels flowed past. "What are all these colors?"
"Different types of data," Jimmy explained. "User information, story content, review systems, private messages—they all have unique signatures. The scammers will have their own signature too, once we find it."
Gojo floated a few feet off the "ground," testing his abilities. A small barrier of infinity appeared between his hands. "Looks like our powers work here, just... differently."
"The system translates your abilities into digital equivalents," Jimmy confirmed. "Gojo, your infinity can distort digital space and create barriers against malicious code. Izuku, your analytical abilities are enhanced—you should be able to see patterns in the data that others can't."
As if on cue, Izuku noticed faint trails becoming visible to him—paths through the data that hadn't been obvious before. "I can see user paths, I think. The routes people take through the website."
"Perfect!" Jimmy sounded excited. "Now, you need to head to the main server cluster. It's about three kilometers northeast in digital space. Look for a massive cube structure with multiple data streams flowing in and out."
Izuku and Gojo began moving through the digital landscape, sometimes walking on the grid, sometimes floating through streams of data. As they traveled, Izuku outlined the plan.
"Once we reach the main server," he explained, "we'll implement a keyword detection system that flags reviews with scammer patterns—phrases like 'check out my art,' 'commissions available,' along with website links that aren't on the approved list. Then we can trace the accounts creating these reviews back to their source and delete them."
"And block their IPs," Jimmy added through the comms. "I've already developed an algorithm that can distinguish between legitimate commission artists using the platform appropriately and the scammers."
Gojo glided effortlessly alongside Izuku, occasionally touching passing data streams and watching them ripple. "What if they just make new accounts?"
"We'll set up a permanent filter," Izuku replied. "Any new accounts that immediately post reviews with these patterns will be automatically flagged for review by actual moderators."
"If there are any," Gojo muttered.
"There are," Jimmy's voice assured them. "They're just overwhelmed. This system will make their jobs manageable again."
The landscape around them began to change as they approached the server core. The grid lines grew denser, data streams more numerous. In the distance, a massive cubic structure pulsed with multicolored light, data flowing in and out like a digital heartbeat.
"There it is," Izuku pointed. "The main server."
"And we're not alone," Gojo added, gesturing to dark, shadowy figures moving around the cube's base. Unlike their bright avatars, these entities appeared as shifting black masses with occasional red code flashing through them.
"Scammers?" Izuku asked.
"Bots," Jimmy confirmed in their ears. "Automated programs designed to post reviews across multiple stories simultaneously. They're the foot soldiers of our operation."
Gojo cracked his knuckles, a smile spreading across his face. "Finally, some action. Let's crush these digital pests and get to the source."
"Remember the plan," Izuku cautioned, pulling up a digital interface only he could see—his analytical abilities manifesting in this world. "We need to follow them back to their controller before we take any action."
The server cube loomed ahead of them, its massive form dwarfing everything around it. Streams of user data—stories, reviews, profiles—flowed in and out through defined channels. And around its base, the shadowy bot programs continued their work, unaware that two intruders were about to disrupt their operation.
"Ready?" Izuku asked, determination in his voice.
Gojo's infinity flickered around his hands. "Born ready."
Together, they dove toward the server core, ready to confront the digital menace that had been plaguing their favorite website.
The massive server cube pulsed with energy as Izuku and Gojo approached its central processing core. Streams of code flowed like rivers around the structure, and the shadowy bot programs scattered as the two intruders drew near. The heart of —a swirling vortex of blue and green data—hovered in the center of an open chamber.
"We're in position," Izuku reported, his avatar's fingers moving rapidly through holographic screens only he could fully interpret. "Jimmy, can you see the data we're accessing?"
"Crystal clear," Jimmy's voice responded through their neural connection. "I'm sending the filter algorithm now. Prepare to implement."
A golden stream of code materialized before them, flowing from nowhere into Izuku's outstretched hands. The data felt warm, almost alive, as it settled into his digital palms.
Gojo floated above, maintaining a perimeter of infinity around them to keep the shadow bots at bay. "Whatever you're going to do, Midoriya-kun, do it quickly. These programs are adapting to my barriers."
Izuku nodded, concentrating as he interfaced with the server's core systems. The analytical abilities that served him so well in hero analysis transferred perfectly to this digital landscape. He could see patterns in the code—vulnerabilities, connections, and most importantly, the malicious bot network's command structure.
"I found them," he announced, excitement in his voice. "The scammer accounts all trace back to a single IP address. They're using automated programs to create accounts, post fake reviews, and harvest information from desperate writers."
Jimmy's voice came through, sounding impressed. "Excellent work! Now implement the filter algorithm at the root level."
Izuku pressed the golden code into the swirling core. For a moment, nothing happened—then a pulse of white light burst outward, racing through every connection and data stream. The server cube hummed, processing the new instructions.
"It's working!" Izuku exclaimed, watching as red warning flags began appearing on thousands of suspicious accounts throughout the system. "The algorithm is identifying and quarantining all the scammer accounts."
On one of his monitors back in the physical world, Jimmy watched as countless profiles were flagged, reviewed by his AI, and systematically removed from the database. The accounts vanished from the digital landscape like popping bubbles, their malicious code dissipating into nothing.
"Phase two complete," Jimmy confirmed. "Now implementing the user-based review filter."
Another pulse spread through the system. This time, legitimate user accounts glowed briefly with a protective blue aura.
"What's that doing?" Gojo asked, watching the effect spread.
"It's giving every real user the ability to remove scam reviews from their stories automatically," Izuku explained. "The system will recognize patterns in the fake reviews and allow writers to delete them with one click. No more waiting for unresponsive moderators."
"Plus," Jimmy added, "I've implemented a predictive defense system that will recognize new scammer patterns as they evolve. The scammers will have to work ten times harder for zero results."
Gojo let his infinity barriers dissolve as the shadow bots disappeared one by one. "Looks like we've wiped them out. Not as viscerally satisfying as crushing cursed spirits, but I'll take it."
Izuku's face broke into a wide smile as he watched the system purge the last of the scammer accounts. Years of being powerless, of watching injustice happen without being able to stop it—and now, he'd actually made a difference.
"We did it," he breathed, turning to Gojo. Their digital avatars glowed with triumph in the pulsing light of the server core.
They high-fived, their hands connecting with a flash of green and blue code.
"Mission accomplished," Jimmy declared through the comms. "I'm beginning extraction. Prepare for—"
Meanwhile, in a dimly lit apartment in Mumbai, Rajiv Sharma slammed his fist on his desk, causing his three monitors to shake precariously. Empty energy drink cans and fast food wrappers scattered across the floor as he jumped to his feet, his face illuminated by the harsh glow of his screens.
"What is happening?" he shouted, watching as his carefully constructed network of bot accounts disappeared before his eyes. Thousands of fake profiles—gone. The review-posting bots—disabled. The commission scam websites—blacklisted.
Rajiv was a thin man in his mid-thirties, with unkempt black hair and a perpetual five o'clock shadow. He wore a stained t-shirt with "HACK THE PLANET" printed across the front, and hadn't changed out of his sweatpants in three days.
"Three months of work!" he raged, furiously typing commands that did nothing to stop the purge. "My entire operation!"
The scam had been brilliantly simple. Create thousands of bot accounts, post fake commission offers on popular stories, direct desperate writers to convincing-looking websites, collect "deposit" payments, and disappear. He'd made thousands of dollars from aspiring writers and artists who never received the work they paid for.
Now it was all collapsing.
One of his monitors showed the server logs—something or someone had implemented a system-wide security upgrade. His backdoor access was being closed, his control severed.
"This is impossible," he muttered, sweat beading on his forehead as he tried everything to regain control. "Nobody could have traced this back to me. Nobody could have—"
His main screen suddenly went black. Then three words appeared in glowing green text:
"JUSTICE FOR WRITERS."
Rajiv stared at the message, his face pale in the monitor's glow. Then all three screens displayed the same message before shutting down completely.
He sat in the darkness, the only light coming from the blinking router across the room. His empire of scams had fallen in less than five minutes.
"This isn't over," he whispered, reaching for his phone. "Nobody outsmart Rajiv Sharma. Nobody."
Back in Jimmy's lab, Izuku and Gojo removed their VR headsets, blinking as they readjusted to the physical world.
"That was awesome!" Izuku exclaimed, his real face flushed with excitement. "We actually did it!"
Jimmy swiveled in his chair, a satisfied grin on his face. "The system is fully implemented and self-sustaining. should be scammer-free for the foreseeable future."
Gojo stretched, removing his blindfold just enough to rub his eyes. "Not bad for a day's work. Though I still say we should have added some flashier visual effects when the bots were deleted. Maybe explosions? Everyone loves explosions."
"The important thing is that writers are protected now," Izuku said, clutching his notebook to his chest. "No more fake reviews, no more scammers preying on people's hopes."
Jimmy nodded, but his expression grew serious. "There's just one thing you should know. The person behind the scams—I managed to trace their location. They know they've been shut down, and people like that don't usually give up easily."
"Let them try again," Gojo said with a dismissive wave. "Your system will stop them."
"Besides," Izuku added, a determined look in his eyes, "if they do come back, we'll be ready."
Little did they know, in Mumbai, Rajiv Sharma was already planning his revenge.