Chapter 4

Blood on My Hands

One year later…

Izuku's Age: 6 years old…

The sound of wood striking flesh reverberated through the expansive room.

"Come on! Put more effort into it! You're not fighting with enough conviction!" A female voice resonated with authority.

Perched twenty meters above the floor, a man with ashen hair observed the scene below with a detached air.

Below him, a woman in an ankle-length qipao, tailored with a slit from waist to ankle for mobility, stood poised. Her ash-blonde hair was neatly coiffed into a bun, and she wielded a wooden staff, its length nearly matching her stature. Her gaze, intense and focused, was fixed on a young boy.

"Why can't I use my quirk?" The boy's voice trembled with a mix of pain and fear. "Wouldn't that make me more effective?"

This boy was no ordinary child. His green hair, tinged with silver highlights, was a testament to his uniqueness. Clad in a green T-shirt emblazoned with 'Boy', brown pants, and red shoes, he lay on the ground, wincing from the impact of the staff against his cheek.

"You should not rely solely on your quirk," the woman instructed firmly. "It won't always be there to shield you."

"Yeah? Who could possibly bypass my infinity anyways?" Izuku retorted, frustration lacing his words as he rose to his feet. "It's an impenetrable defense. You said so yourself."

"Indeed, it is formidable—but only while it remains intact," the woman imparted with wisdom. "Should someone discover a way to breach your infinity, you'd be susceptible to conventional attacks."

Izuku's eyes widened in astonishment. "I-Is such a thing even possible?" He questioned incredulously. "My quirk manifests infinity into reality. How could anyone bypass infinity itself? That seems impossible."

The woman nodded affirmatively. "In theory, bypassing your infinity should be impossible. And yet, quirks, by their very nature, defy biological or physical explanation. You should recognize that in this world, all things are conceivable, and every quirk has its vulnerability—yours is no exception."

"And the flaw within my quirk is...?" Izuku probed.

"That, my dear, is a riddle you must solve," the woman replied cryptically. "Now, attack once more, this time with resolve."

Izuku inhaled deeply, then charged at the woman. His right hand balled into a fist, aiming for a strike, only to be met with another swift blow from the staff to his face.

"See? Your approach is utterly haphazard," the woman chided, her irritation evident. "Such recklessness will only lead to your defeat—or worse, death at the hands of a nefarious villain. Has Yukimiru not taught you this?"

Izuku clambered to his feet, his balance wavering slightly. He dabbed at the trickle of blood at the corner of his mouth.

"You are not even using your negative energy," the woman observed critically. "Harness your anger, your fear—channel these potent emotions that you are feeling. Focus, as I've instructed you."

"It's not as simple as you make it sound," Izuku countered, assuming his stance. "I'm trying every everything, yet it feels like an impossible task."

The woman exhaled a weary sigh. "I see. You're clearly not prepared for this level of combat," she stated dispassionately. She pivoted sharply on her heel. "We'll resume once you're truly ready." With that, she exited the chamber, leaving Izuku to his solitude.

Izuku let out a forlorn sigh and bowed his head. Combat didn't come naturally to him; he lacked the inherent aggression but understood that mastering this skill was essential to his journey as a hero. Despite his diligent attempts, the concept just seemed to eluded him.

Resolved not to dwell on his shortcomings, Izuku decided to retreat to his quarters provided by the HPSC.

Meanwhile, outside the chamber, the woman encountered the man who had been overseeing the training from above.

"Join me in my office in thirty minutes," she instructed with an authoritative edge.

The man bowed respectfully and watched as she strode past him.

Later, in the President's office, the man—Yukimiru—stood before the HPSC President, who regarded him with a flat expression.

"I anticipated more from you, Yukimiru," she remarked without emotion.

Yukimiru inclined his head submissively. "I shall strive for improvement, Madam President."

"His combat skills are the same even after a whole year," the President noted with a hint of disappointment. "Given his academic prowess, I expected remarkable progress."

"Regrettably," Yukimiru responded in his characteristic languid tone, "Izuku's talents lean more towards the academic, particularly science, rather than the martial arts."

"That's problematic," the President pointed out. "Academic knowledge won't suffice in the battles to come. He has to learn to fight."

"I'm aware of this, Madam President," Yukimiru acknowledged. "With time and Izuku's innate problem-solving abilities, I'm confident he'll excel in combat. He merely requires patience and space to grow."

"Time is a luxury we cannot afford, unfortunately. I expect results, Yukimiru," the President asserted firmly. "Time may seem abundant, but it will elapse in the blink of an eye."

"I understand, Madam President," Yukimiru assured her. "I will not disappoint."

"See that you don't."


"I'm home!" Izuku announced as he entered his abode, the same one he'd called home for the past year, and gently closed the door behind him. As expected, no response greeted his arrival.

The HPSC President had graciously provided him with a flat in one of the apartment complexes near the HPSC headquarters for easy access. For reasons unbeknownst to him, they had chosen not to place him in an orphanage. He didn't mind, though; solitude was preferable to the company of peers who could be unintentionally cruel at times.

Moreover, it afforded him a private sanctuary for his tears, away from prying eyes.

Izuku ambled into his home, allowing his bag to drop carelessly to the floor. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed someone had left food on his dining table, a recurring act of kindness. The first time it had occurred, he had dashed back to the HPSC, bursting into Yukimiru's office to report the perceived intrusion.

Yukimiru, visibly concerned, had escorted him to the President. She revealed that she had arranged for someone to prepare Izuku's meals, considering his youth and inexperience with cooking. She assured him that his breakfast would await him in the fridge, with warm meals for lunch and dinner provided daily.

This promise had been kept. For the past year, Izuku would return each evening to discover a freshly cooked meal awaiting him on the dining table, with breakfast neatly stored in the refrigerator. Lunch greeted him upon his afternoon return.

The mysterious chef was quite skilled, crafting dishes that were delectable, though not quite on par with his mother's culinary prowess, but close enough.

Izuku pondered whether to indulge in some television, recalling that hero action highlights were typically broadcast around this time. Yet, fatigue prevailed, and he opted against it.

After a refreshing wash, Izuku dined in the kitchen. Post-meal, he tidied up and retreated to his bedroom. The room had undergone a transformation, now embodying a spartan aesthetic. His All Might figurines had been relocated to the living room, leaving only the essentials: a bed, a bedside table, a computer, a dressing table, and a wardrobe.

His All Might-themed bedding, a cherished gift from his mother, remained a comforting constant.

Settling onto his bed, Izuku exhaled a weary sigh. He glanced at the framed photograph of his mother on the bedside table. Her smile, frozen in time, stirred a rare emotion within him—a longing for days when that smile had been a constant presence in his life. Now, he yearned to see it again, to feel the warmth it once brought.

Adjusting his pillow, he settled into bed. The thought crossed his mind: "I should visit Mom tomorrow." With that intention, he closed his eyes, exhaustion pulling him to sleep within seconds.


The following morning, Izuku awoke with the dawn. After a brisk freshening up, he retrieved his breakfast, thoughtfully prepared by the enigmatic chef the day prior, from the refrigerator. He then warmed it in the microwave.

As the breakfast heated, Izuku wandered into the living room, home to a grand window stretching from ceiling to floor. Drawing back the blinds, he was greeted by an unexpected rain shower. "Rain... again?" he mused, a tinge of annoyance coloring his thoughts due to the recent frequency of them.

The microwave's beep reverberated throughout the abode, prompting Izuku to dash back to the kitchen. He retrieved his now-warm meal, placed it on the dining table, and began to satiate his hunger.

Post-breakfast, Izuku promptly attended to the dishes, his aversion to leaving any utensil unwashed evident. Task completed, he shouldered his bag, put his sunglasses on and grasped an umbrella, then stepped out the front door. Securing the lock, he embarked on a leisurely descent from his building, bound for Musutafu Cemetery.

Izuku's residence was no longer in Musutafu but in Tokyo's Hachijou Prefecture. The societal leaps in technology over recent decades had significantly reduced travel time from Tokyo to Musutafu. A journey that once spanned nearly ninety minutes now whisked travelers to their destination in a mere thirty. Rumors swirled of the government's plans to further reduce the ETA with the introduction of high-powered magnetic rails, or so the whispers went.

Such advancements seemed beyond the grasp of his years, though Izuku remained unaware of the extent to which he surpassed his peers.

Boarding the train, Izuku arrived in his former hometown within the promised half-hour. Disembarking, he noted the rain's relent, reduced to a gentle drizzle. Unfurling his umbrella, he commenced his trek to the cemetery, the final resting place of his mother.

After a thirty-minute journey, he stood before her grave, the umbrella a shield against the persistent rain. His gaze lingered on the headstone, a well of melancholy in his eyes.

Here Lies
INKO MIDORIYA
A Loving Mother, A Caring Friend, A Kind Companion
You will be Remembered
Rest In Peace
4
th July, 24XX - 5th August, 24XX

Over a year had passed since his mother's departure from this world—a fact that still seemed surreal to Izuku, a show of time's relentless march.

Eventually, Izuku's gaze fell upon the flowers adorning his mother's grave. Likely the handiwork of Aunt Mitsuki, tending to the site in his stead.

"Hey, Mom..." Izuku's voice carried a weighty timbre. "Looks like Aunt Mitsuki's been looking after you, hasn't she?" A laugh devoid of mirth escaped him. "I must be the worst son ever, huh? Can't even take care of your resting place... Man, auntie sure is kind." He paused for a few seconds before continuing to speak. "My life's been a...well...It has been weird lately. That's no excuse for my absence or the sad state here. I am sorry. Remember HPSC? I joined them, mom. I know, you did not want me to... But Mom, they're shaping me into a really powerful Hero. Yet, I'm having some doubts. Can I truly be as great as All Might? Fighting, martial arts... They all feel so...weird to me, and I'm not improving, not even slightly. I am really good at studying, but my fighting abilities are falling short..."

Izuku's words trailed off as he observed the somber skies unleashing their tears upon the earth. "The President's patience is becoming thin with my little progress," he confessed, his tone hollow. "If this continues... I will be kicked out for sure. I seriously wonder if I can ever be as great as All Might."

A sigh, heavy with despondency, left him. "If only you'd send a sign, Mom. Just... confirm your belief in me..." He lingered in hopeful silence, then a rueful smile formed. "Seems even you've lost faith in me, huh? I can't fault you. I have lost faith in myself as well."

He remained before her grave a moment longer before resolving to return to the HPSC headquarters. A training session with Yukimiru awaited, and tardiness was not an option.

Yet, had he tarried but a moment more, he would have encountered a familiar blonde youth visiting the very grave he was standing before moments ago.

Alas, destiny did not ordain their paths to cross that day.


An hour later, Izuku found himself walking into a dark alleyway. A few steps away, he stopped in front of a shadowy door. Izuku closed his umbrella and tapped the door six times in a particular rhythm. A few seconds later, the door opened, and he was greeted by a man wearing dark overalls, blocking the way to the hallway beyond.

The man scrutinized Izuku for a couple of seconds before nodding and stepping aside to let him in.

Izuku entered cautiously, giving a nod to the man, before proceeding into the hallway. This was how he had to enter the HPSC's headquarters. Apparently, it would be too risky to have him seen going into and out of the HPSC directly through their entrance. All these extra precautions were to ensure his connection with the HPSC remained hidden.

Izuku then approached the only elevator at the end of the hallway. Clicking its button, the door opened, and Izuku entered. He pressed the 46th button. The door closed and the elevator sped upwards.

A few seconds later, the elevator stopped, and the door opened.

Izuku was greeted with the familiar office where dozens of people worked anonymously. What they worked on? He had no idea whatsoever.

The people knew him, though. As he passed through the office, some would notice him and smile. Others were probably too busy to notice him.

Izuku finally reached his destination: Yukimiru's office.

He knocked on it twice.

"Come in," said a familiar voice from inside.

Izuku pushed the door open and entered the office. He made sure to close the door behind him.

"You're late," Yukimiru commented as Izuku turned around to face him. The older man was sitting behind a desk, his eyes focused on a document rather than on Izuku.

"I was actually visiting my mother's grave," Izuku confessed.

"I know," Yukimiru said, putting the document down. "That is the only place you go to these days other than here and your home."

Izuku felt a little weird that he knew something like that but refrained from commenting.

"Your academics have been excellent this last year," Yukimiru commented off-handedly, getting up from his seat. He walked around his desk before handing the document he was holding a few seconds ago to Izuku.

Izuku took the document and glanced at it. The first thing he noticed was that it was his report card. More precisely, it was his report card for the final year of Elementary School. He had passed with flying colors, an exam that he was supposed to give six years later.

"Your scores have been perfect," Yukimiru said, a hint of pride in his voice. "So, we will be taking a little break from academics."

"Break?" Izuku interrupted with a question.

"Don't worry. You will study but not at the same rate as before. For now, the President wants you to focus on your combat abilities and martial arts. They are... quite lacking."

"I understand," Izuku said, his face drooping sadly.

"Don't look so down. You only started training a year ago, and it is very unrealistic of the President to expect you to already throw hands with her. In my eyes, you have been improving a lot."

Izuku glanced up at Yukimiru and smiled thinly. "Thank you... Those words mean a lot to me."

Yukimiru nodded. "You will have your martial arts session with Master Yoshi now. Get ready quickly. You know he does not like to wait."

Izuku nodded quickly. He rushed to the door and was about to rush out, but Yukimiru's voice stopped him in his tracks.

"By the way, the President wants to meet you this evening," the older man said.

Izuku looked at him questioningly and asked, "Do you know why?"

Yukimiru shrugged his shoulders. "No idea. But if I had to make a guess, she is probably looking to teach you something."

"Oh... Ok. Do I go to her office directly?"

"Yes."


Master Yoshi was good. Really good. But Izuku sometimes wished he could be a little less demanding. As he walked through the empty corridors of the HPSC's most secured floor, he could feel his body aching all over. He grabbed his left arm and groaned. Today, Master Yoshi had decided to train his hands, and the results had not been pretty. Izuku had three sessions with Master Yoshi a week, and these three sessions were always the ones he least looked forward to.

He finally approached his destination before the President's office. Knocking on it thrice, he waited for a response.

A second later, Izuku heard a voice from within. "Come in," it said.

Izuku pushed the door with one hand, and it opened, leading him to a room that he had become somewhat familiar with. However, upon entering and facing the usual direction, Izuku realized that the President was not sitting in her usual spot behind the desk.

"You look beaten up..." The President's voice came from Izuku's right.

Izuku's head snapped in the direction, and he stared confusedly at the older woman sitting on a couch. Was there always a couch there?

"No. I installed this couch a few days ago," the President commented, taking Izuku by surprise, who winced at being read like a transparent paper. "Your face tells everything that you are thinking," the President commented again, crossing her hands under her bust, which could have made a man blush in embarrassment. An oblivious and pure kid...not so much. "We will have to work on that. Can't have a villain read you like fine paper."

"You wanted something from me, ma'am?" Izuku asked politely. He had learned to address her respectfully over the years.

"Yes, I did. But before that," the President patted the empty couch seat beside her. "Come have a seat."

Izuku was hesitant but accepted the offer nonetheless. Just as he took a seat beside her, the older woman laid a gentle hand on the side of his face and as gently as possible laid his head down on her lap.

Izuku looked up at the woman from his position, confusion written all over his face.

"I feel like I have been a little too rough on you lately," the President said slowly, sadness marring her face.

'A little?' Izuku cringed inside a little. She had been anything but a little rough.

"Alright, alright. I agree. I have been too rough on you lately..." The President said, once again making it look like she had read his mind.

"Can you read minds?" Izuku asked curiously.

"Fufufu," the President giggled mysteriously. "I thought you wanted to discover my quirk on your own."

"You were the one who gave me that task," Izuku said.

"Tomato, tomato. Same, same but different," the President replied with a shrug of her shoulders. "Now rest and let me heal you."

The President laid her left hand on Izuku's forehead gently, and suddenly Izuku felt something leave him. He suddenly felt his fatigue being sucked off. The sleep in his eyes started to go away, and he began to feel more energized with each passing second.

"What exactly is your quirk?" Izuku asked in both awe and confusion.

"Fufufu." The President laughed her mysterious laughter. "I will tell you someday. But now, rest."

There was a moment of silence as the President healed Izuku, which was promptly broken by the President.

"I keep forgetting that you are just a kid," the President started saying while healing Izuku at the same time. "Whenever I see you... You remind me of this guy I knew once. He also wanted to be a Hero. He could have been a great Hero, but I guess God had other plans."

"What happened to him?" Izuku asked cautiously.

"He died," the President replied with a straight face.

Izuku winced on the inside again. Why did all his conversations with the President turn awkward like this?

"Do you want to know what killed him?"

Well, Izuku wasn't really interested in the story anymore, but he did not feel that he had an option. So, he bit his tongue and asked, "What?"

"His heart."

Izuku's eyebrows raised questioningly. "His heart?" Did he have some quirk related to his heart?

"His heart was too big," the President said, her eyes staring blankly out of the large window at the night sky. "He was too kind, too pure for this cruel world. All he wanted to do was save someone. And all he got in return was death."

Izuku gulped in fear. The President's eyes and voice were hollow, no emotions in them. It was as if she was reliving a horrible past.

"The very man he tried to save backstabbed him and left him to die in an empty alleyway. We found his rotting body a week later. We may have never found him if someone had not informed the police of the foul smell coming from the alley."

The President paused in her storytelling. She glanced down at Izuku, her eyes filled with tears.

"I don't want you to end up like him," the President said, her voice breaking. "At least someone who genuinely wants to save people should get to become a Hero. And I want to help you achieve your dream. That way, at least I can tell that I helped someone achieve their goal instead of standing aside and doing nothing."

"B-But... You are already doing that," Izuku said, trying to cheer her up. "Y-You are already helping me. I a-am becoming strong day by day. And t-that's because of you, ma'am."

"I know," the President replied. "But I feel like I can still do more. But at the same time, I don't know what to do. It's torturous sometimes."

"I-I am sorry," Izuku apologized. "I know you would not be doubting yourself if I had been improving as you expected. I will do better next time."

The President chuckled lightly. "That's great to hear, Izuku. But please, take care of yourself at the same time, okay." She then patted his head. "That's done. How are you feeling now?"

Izuku pushed himself up into a sitting position and flexed his arms around for a bit. He closed and opened his hands, cracked his neck, and straightened his spine. "I feel great!" he exclaimed in an amazed tone. "Thanks."

The President stood up, her arms crossed over her chest. "Come. We have another place to be," she said and walked towards the door.

Izuku jumped down from the couch and followed behind her.

They took the elevator to the basement of the HPSC building and exited through the same door from which Izuku had entered earlier that day. Instead of taking a left to the main road, the duo took a right. This was the first time Izuku was wandering this far into the alley, and he realized that there was another gate that led to the parking lot of the building.

Approaching a black sedan, the HPSC President fetched a key from her pocket and clicked a button. The car made a beeping sound indicating that the doors were unlocked. She opened the passenger door for Izuku to enter before walking around the car and getting into the driver's seat.

"Where are we going?" Izuku asked once the car was running on the main road.

"To a secret place of sorts," the President replied, her eyes focused on the road.

"A secret place? Why?"

"Mm-hm." The President hummed. "I was informed by one of my contacts that they have caught a big fish. I want to see whom they have caught though."

"So, why are you taking me with you?"

"I wasn't going to. But then I thought that it could be a good way to introduce you to a different world."

"A different world?"

"You will know when you get there."


The sleek black sedan glided to a halt in a secluded parking spot. With practiced precision, the President engaged the handbrake and stepped out, followed swiftly by Izuku. He circled the vehicle, positioning himself beside her.

"Where are we?" Izuku inquired, his tone a mixture of curiosity and confusion.

"Silence." the President commanded softly, her voice crisp and authoritative as she set off. "Now, follow me."

Izuku eyed her retreating form, hesitation evident in his steps as he fell in line behind her. They traversed the footpath leading out of the parking lot, crossing streets and passing numerous establishments. Soon, they approached a building adorned with a garish pink hoarding. Brilliant lights framed its perimeter, nearly blinding Izuku's sensitive eyes.

"Heavy D...?" he read aloud, squinting at the sign. "What's that supposed to be?"

A sharp clap from ahead startled him. "Chop-chop, Izuku. Pick up the pace," the President urged.

Swallowing his nervousness, Izuku quickened his stride. They bypassed the building, halting before the first alleyway on the right.

The President surveyed their surroundings, ensuring their solitude. "This way," she murmured, slipping into the alley.

Izuku couldn't help but notice her gait had become taut, as if poised for conflict. His unease intensified.

Sensing his discomfort, the President glanced back. "Rest assured child, you're safe as long as you're with me."

Izuku nodded, his anxiety palpable.

The pair came to a stop before a nondescript black door. A man loitered nearby, clad in a spiked leather jacket and baggy black pants, a cigarette dangling from his lips.

'Surely she's not going to talk with him,' Izuku mused. To his dismay, the President approached the stranger without hesitation. 'Surely she is.'

"Let us enter," she demanded, her tone brooking no argument.

The man turned, his eyes narrowing with disdain. Flicking away his cigarette, he pivoted to face them fully. Leaning against the wall in a provocative pose, he smirked ruthlessly. "Not unless you grant me entry first, sweetheart."

Hidden from Izuku's view, the President's lips twitched in annoyance. "My, my~ Quite the spirited young man, aren't you?" she cooed, her voice dripping with saccharine sweetness.

"What can I say?" the man shrugged nonchalantly. "I've got a way with the ladies around here."

"Mmm~" The President's moan left Izuku bewildered, oblivious to the unfolding situation. She closed the distance between herself and the man, pressing against him. Her left hand came to rest on his chest. "I do adore vigorous men like yourself," she purred.

"Well, well!" the man exclaimed, his face flushing at her ministrations. "Looks like I've reeled in quite the catch today. How about we step inside for a drink before moving on to the main event?"

"Mm~ I'd like that very much," the President replied huskily, her hands trailing southward until they rested on his crotch.

"Whoa there, eager beaver! Not so fast!" the man chuckled.

"Who says I'm rushing?" The President's smile morphed from sweet to devious. Without warning, her grip tightened, causing the man's eyes to bulge in shock.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH"

The man's blood-curdling scream reverberated through the alleyway, causing Izuku to stumble backward in terror. The stranger was now hunched over, leaning against the President who supported his weight, her eyes boring into him with undisguised revulsion.

"Now then," the President hissed, her voice dripping with contempt, "will you grant us entry, or shall I pulverize what's left of your manhood?"

"You can pass!" the man yelped, his words tumbling out in a panicked rush. "You can pass! You can pass! Just release me, I beg you!"

"Good boy," the President sneered, patting his head condescendingly before shoving him backward. The man collapsed, clutching his groin in agony as tears streamed down his face. "Pathetic weaklings like you have no business interfering in others' affairs. Consider yourself fortunate I didn't obliterate what little masculinity you possess." She then turned to Izuku, her tone shifting to businesslike efficiency. "Come, boy. We have matters to attend to."

Izuku nodded, cautiously approaching the President.

"W-Wait!" The man protested through gritted teeth. "You're bringing a kid in there?"

"Is that a problem?" The President's voice carried a lethal edge.

"N-No..." The man whimpered, still writhing in pain.

"I thought not," the President retorted, pushing the door open with a forceful shove.

Instantly, Izuku was assaulted by a cacophony of deafening music. As he crossed the threshold, his senses were overwhelmed by a kaleidoscope of pulsating lights, forcing him to shield his eyes. It took several moments for his vision to adjust, but when it did, he found himself thrust into an entirely alien world.

"Izuku."

His head snapped towards the President, who stood beside him, her gaze fixed ahead, her face an impassive mask.

"Welcome to the Underworld."

"The what?" Izuku asked, his voice tinged with confusion.

"The Underworld... Well, this is more like a gateway to it," the President replied, her eyes scanning the surroundings. "This kind of places were once a thriving hub of criminal activity. Now... Now, they are merely a shadow of their former self. Thanks to all the Heroes and Villains."

"Then why aren't we alerting the Heroes?" Izuku demanded vehemently. "These are villains, right? We need to take them down!"

The President chuckled. "Walk with me," she commanded softly, setting off. Izuku scrambled to keep up with his shorter legs. "Engrave this in your mind: all villains are criminals, but not all criminals are villains."

"But... aren't they just two sides of the same coin?" Izuku pressed.

"They may appear so, but there's a crucial distinction," the President responded.

Suddenly, something caught Izuku's eye. He turned slightly to his right and, to his bewilderment, saw a scantily clad woman gyrating against a pole on a raised platform. Men surrounded her, hollering unintelligible gibberish. The dancer's gaze met his, and she winked, causing Izuku to snap his head away in alarm.

As awareness dawned, he realized similar scenes were unfolding throughout the establishment. "Why are they dancing like that?" he asked naively.

"They're exotic dancers," the President answered matter-of-factly. "They perform to entice and please their audience."

"There are some guys dancing too..." Izuku observed.

"Some men are attracted to other men," the President replied smoothly.

As they navigated through the throng, Izuku barely managing while the President bulldozed her way through, a voice halted their progress, nearly causing Izuku to collide with her.

"Mama mia~ If it isn't the most insufferable wench in all of Japan."

The President exhaled deeply, exasperation evident. "Can you drop that atrocious Mexican accent?"

"Mama mia, I'm offended, amigo. This accent is part of my charm, you know."

"You sound like a racist caricature attempting Mexican, despite looking Japanese, and that's not even how Mexicans speak."

"Oh, for crying out loud," the newcomer cursed. "Why must you ruin everything, you killjoy?"

Izuku peered from behind the President, his eyes landing on a striking woman about the President's age. She wore a scarlet dress with a plunging neckline, showcasing ample cleavage. A high slit on the right side revealed her shapely legs, complemented by matching glossy red stilettos. Though other than the color of the dress everything else went unnoticed by Izuku.

Izuku's attempt at discretion caught the woman's eye. She smirked, whistling appreciatively. "Well, I'll be damned! You're one twisted bitch, aren't you? Bringing a child to a place like this..."

"A-Am I not supposed to be here?" Izuku stammered, fear creeping into his voice.

The woman chuckled at his trepidation. "Of course not. Even Satan would think twice before corrupting a child in this hellhole." She laughed again. "But then again, this harpy here makes the devil look like a saint."

The President's eyes narrowed dangerously. "We're not here to discuss me," she said authoritatively. "Where is he?"

The woman jerked a thumb over her shoulder. "Booth 3. Four goons with him. Try not to off the girls. They're quite... exotic."

"How many?"

"Five."

"They'll live. The others won't."

"I couldn't care less about the men. Just keep my girls breathing, and we're square."

The President nodded curtly. "Follow me, Izuku," she ordered, brushing past the woman.

Izuku bowed slightly to the woman and was about to pass when she suddenly grabbed him. She leaned down, her lips near his right ear. Cupping her left hand to create a makeshift conduit, she whispered, "Name's JJ. If you ever need to become a man, come find me, okay? I'm always here."

Izuku looked at her, perplexed. "What's that supposed to mean?" he asked.

JJ released him and straightened up. "You'll understand when you're older. Now scram. Follow that hellcat before she throws a fit."

Izuku gave her an odd look before mentally shrugging and dashing off.

JJ chuckled at his eagerness to leave. Her right hand came up, fingers resting on her lips. "I wonder what makes him so special that the witch got him in tow. Izuku, was it? How intriguing... I might just keep an eye out for him."

The President strode purposefully through the throng, deftly avoiding physical contact. Izuku struggled to keep pace, trailing in her wake. They soon found themselves in an eerily silent corridor.

Abruptly, the President halted, pivoting towards a mahogany door on her left with the number '3' attached to it.

Izuku drew up beside her, his eyes widening in shock as he noticed her pupils glowing a deep, molten orange as she scrutinized the door.

In a heartbeat, her eyes returned to normal. She knelt on her left knee, placing a hand on Izuku's shoulder. "Look at the door and tell me how many people you see inside," she instructed, her gaze unwavering.

Izuku turned, bewildered. "I... I don't see anything," he admitted, perplexed by the task.

"Look closer," the President urged, her voice a monotone. "Focus on the door. Channel your consciousness through your eyes. Force your vision beyond the physical barrier."

Izuku complied, his jaw clenching with effort.

"Concentrate on what lies beyond," the President whispered, her voice taking on an almost mystical quality.

Veins bulged around Izuku's eyes from the strain. "I-I don't think I can see anything..." he muttered, disheartened.

"You can," the President asserted confidently. "I believe in you, Izuku."

Bolstered by her faith, Izuku redoubled his efforts. Unbeknownst to him, his eyes began to emit a faint glow.

Suddenly, his eyes widened in amazement. He could indeed perceive beyond the door. Was this his quirk's true potential? "One, two...Four...Six...Seven...Nine," Izuku counted methodically. "I see nine people."

A hint of a smirk played on the President's lips as she patted Izuku's shoulder and stood. "Excellent work," she praised, a note of smugness in her tone. "That's what you're capable of when you believe in yourself, Izuku. All you need is self-confidence and... trust in me. Understood?"

Izuku nodded, a light blush coloring his cheeks. Somehow, her praise pleased him more than anyone else's, even Yukimiru's.

The President eyed the door critically, twirling her ash-blonde hair around her fingers. To Izuku's astonishment, she abruptly yanked out a sizable clump. Turning back to Izuku, she smirked. "Want to see something badass?" The extracted hair magically entwined around the four fingers of her right hand, which she brandished proudly.

Without waiting for a response, she pivoted and kicked the door open with brutal force. In a blur of motion, she burst into the room. Targeting the man in the far-right corner, she pointed her index finger. The strands of hair coiled around it shot forth like a bullet, piercing the man's skull. In the next instant, she whirled towards the far-left corner, her pinky finger aimed at another target. Another lethal strand found its mark. Her ring finger dispatched the man behind her primary target in similar fashion. Finally, she leveled her middle finger at her main quarry, firing a strand into his shoulder, pinning him to the couch.

The entire sequence unfolded in mere seconds, so swiftly that the bodies of the slain men hadn't even hit the floor. Izuku's mind reeled, struggling to process the carnage before him - three dead, one gravely wounded.

With a casual flick of her fingers, as if extinguishing an invisible flame, the President turned to the five women gawking at her in disbelief. "What's the holdup? Do I need to send you engraved invitations to scram?" she drawled sarcastically. "OUT!" she barked.

The women scrambled to their feet, fleeing the room in panic.

The President watched their hasty departure before turning her attention to the sole survivor. "Well, well, well. How the tables have turned~" she taunted smugly, a smirk playing on her lips. Cocking her hips to the right and putting her right hand on it, she struck a sassy pose. "Isn't this a delightful sight?"

"What the hell do you want from me, you psycho bitch?" the injured man snarled through gritted teeth.

"Oh, quite a lot, actually," the President replied airily. "Especially concerning that kid back there," she added, turning to gesture at Izuku. Her smirk faltered as she noticed him staring in horror at one of the corpses. "You holding up okay, kid?"

Izuku remained frozen, too shocked to respond.

Recognizing the cause of his distress, she approached him. "Izuku. Look at me," she commanded, receiving no reaction. "Izuku! Eyes on me, not him! LOOK! AT! ME!"

Izuku finally turned to her, his face a mask of terror. "Y-You killed them," he stammered. "You freaking killed them!"

The President inhaled sharply before sighing. "I had no choice, Izuku."

"Don't give me that crap! You could've just roughed them up and sent their asses to jail! All Might would not have done that!"

"Well thank God, I am not All Might then. And what makes you think they haven't already done time?" the President retorted smoothly.

Izuku's brow furrowed. "What're you getting at?"

"They've been to jail before. But they got out," she explained.

"But... But..."

"Remember when I said not all criminals are villains? There's a reason for that." The President's tone turned pedagogical. "We have clear-cut laws for villains. They commit crimes, we lock them up in Tartarus. We monitor their behavior, and if they show genuine reform, we consider release. The real nasty ones? We bury them in the deepest pits of Tartarus, never to see daylight again. But what about quirkless scum like these?"

"Quirkless... scum...?" Izuku echoed, incredulous.

"Not all quirkless individuals," the President clarified. "But some turn to crime, like these lowlifes. They kill, murder, commit atrocities, yet they don't fall under villain laws. Our government insists on 'protecting' them, claiming they've suffered enough by being born quirkless. These guys do time, then waltz right out in a year max. Grease the right palms, and they're free in weeks. Our government's so inept, they haven't even bothered with laws for repeat offenders. And you know who always pays the price? Innocent, defenseless people. People like your mother."

Izuku's eyes widened. "What the hell are you talking about?"

"Why don't you ask him yourself?" The President turned, pointing at the groaning, injured man. "Izuku, meet the bastard responsible for your mother's death. Or at least the one who sent that thug that night."

"Huh?"

The President smirked victoriously, stalking towards her prey with predatory grace. "Don't believe me? Why don't you ask him yourself, kid?"

Izuku gaped at the injured man, his mind reeling. What could she possibly mean?

"What the hell are you spouting, you psycho bitch?!" The man bellowed, his voice laced with pain and fury.

"Oh~ See, Izuku? He doesn't even remember his victims," the President chuckled, the sound hollow and mirthless. "You really think scum like this deserves a second chance?"

"Fuck! Let me go already! What the hell do you want?" The man demanded, clutching his wounded shoulder.

"Oh~ You want me to release you?" The President's tone dripped with false sweetness. Without warning, she stomped on his stomach, grinding her heel into his flesh. The man's agonized howl made Izuku flinch. "All you have to do is tell us why you sent that thug that day."

"What man? What the fuck? I don't know what you're talking about!" The man sputtered through gritted teeth.

The President increased the pressure, eliciting another scream. "Pity your memory's so short." She reached into her suit, producing a photograph between her fingers. "Perhaps this will jog your memory?"

"Itsu...?" The man whispered, recognition dawning. "Oh, shit..." His gaze darted to Izuku, horror etching his features. A moment later, he turned fearful eyes back to the President. "You..."

"Ah, now we're getting somewhere," the President said, tucking the photo away. "So..."

"Listen, lady," the man began, his breath ragged. "If you're here about why I sent that guy after the kid, I can only tell you someone promised me one billion yen to deliver the brat. That's all I know, I swear!"

"Oh? And I suppose you can't reveal who made this generous offer," the President probed, barely concealing her disappointment.

"No! We only talked on the phone. When I asked for proof, he mailed me a 50-million-yen check. Didn't even have my address, man. He called again, promising 950 million more if I pulled it off."

"But you botched the job. What about that?"

"I tried calling back, but the number was dead."

"But...?"

"He sent another 100-million-yen check two days later with a note. Just three words."

"Which were?"

"'Good job.'"

"That's two words."

"I can't fucking count, alright? That's all I know!" The man spat, frustration evident.

The President clicked her tongue in annoyance and removed her foot. She turned away, her mind racing, before pivoting back. "Your phone," she demanded, her tone brooking no argument.

The man glowered but complied, fishing the device from his pocket.

"Password?" she asked, snatching it from his grasp.

"Yugito."

The President smirked knowingly. "Girlfriend?"

"Fuck you!"

"Please. I don't let vermin like you near me."

She entered the password and navigated to the contacts. "What was the number listed under?"

"I told you, it's dead."

"Just answer the question."

"Unknown Dealer 35."

The President rolled her eyes. "How original." She located the contact and attempted a call, confirming its disconnection. "Hmm..."

"Told you."

The President pocketed the phone. "I'll be confiscating this."

"What?! You can't do that. Give me back my damn phone!"

"Not happening," the President stated flatly.

"Alright! Fuck it! Just let me go!"

"Let you go, huh?" The President mused, sighing. She plucked a strand of hair, which instinctively coiled around her right index finger. Positioning herself behind the man, she placed a hand on his shoulder and aimed her finger at his temple. She then turned to Izuku, who stood frozen, absorbing everything. "Izuku. What's your verdict?"

"Huh?" Izuku muttered, startled by his sudden inclusion.

"You heard him, right?" The President pressed. "He orchestrated your mother's death for a fat paycheck from some shadowy figure. So, I'm leaving his fate in your hands."

"I... I..." Izuku faltered. How could he possibly decide? Could he really condemn a man with mere words? That couldn't be right... could it?

"Kid..." The man wheezed. "All Might wouldn't want this. He'd show mercy, right?" His bloodied grin was swiftly silenced by the President's fist.

"Shut it," she snarled. Turning back to Izuku, she urged, "Ignore him. Speak your mind. Should I end him or set him free?"

"I... Uh..." Izuku's breath quickened, sweat beading on his brow. A surreal discomfort engulfed him, his ears ringing, vision blurring. Just two words - 'kill him' - and his mother's murderer would be gone. So simple, right? Justice served, his burden lightened. Just those two words...

But would All Might really do that? An image of the Symbol of Peace flashed before him, standing tall and proud. All Might wouldn't kill. He'd hand criminals over to the authorities, like a true hero. Isn't that what Izuku aspired to be? What his mother had wanted for him?

Izuku's gaze dropped to the floor, his posture relaxing as his breathing steadied.

"What's your decision, Izuku?"

"I..." Izuku inhaled deeply. "Let him go. We'll turn him over to the police. I... I don't want any more bloodshed today," he declared resolutely.

The President studied Izuku for a moment before firing the hair strand into the man's uninjured shoulder, eliciting another agonized scream. She shoved him onto the couch, dusting off her hands. Noticing Izuku's stunned expression, she shrugged. "What? I'd already plucked the hair. Waste not, want not." She strode towards the exit.

"Aren't you going to alert the police?" Izuku inquired, trailing behind her.

"They're already en route," the President replied nonchalantly.

"Wait, what? When did you contact them?"

"When I confiscated his phone," she smirked.

As they exited, they encountered JJ once more.

"Wrapped up already?" JJ asked, feigning interest in her manicure.

"Indeed," the President confirmed.

"Survivors?"

"One."

"Authorities?"

"Inbound."

"Understood."

Izuku marveled at their terse exchange. He followed the President to her vehicle, and soon they were cruising through Tokyo's bustling streets once more.

After a half-hour of contemplative silence, Izuku finally mustered the courage to ask, "Are you... okay with my decision?"

"Actually, I'm quite pleased," the President replied, her tone warm.

"Pleased?" Izuku echoed, disbelief coloring his voice.

"Yes, Izuku. I'm both happy and proud," she affirmed, favoring him with a genuine smile.

"Really?" Izuku's voice quavered, tears welling in his eyes.

"Absolutely," the President continued, her smile unwavering. "You made that choice independently. It's your first step towards becoming a true hero." She reached out, gently resting her hand on his head. "You did well, Izuku. I'm proud of you."

Izuku blushed furiously, tears streaming down his cheeks. Hearing someone other than his mother express pride in him stirred something deep within his heart. He sobbed quietly as the President's hand remained, a comforting presence atop his head.

"Say," she ventured, her tone softening further, "would you mind coming over to my place? I'll whip up some katsudon - that's your favorite, right?"

Izuku nodded shyly, hastily wiping away his tears.

As they cruised through the city, Izuku couldn't help but think that despite everything, this day had taken an unexpectedly positive turn. A small, hopeful smile tugged at his lips as he gazed out the window, the future suddenly seeming a little brighter.


One Year later…

Izuku's Age: 7 years old…

The President observed from a distance as Izuku sparred with two martial arts trainees. Over the past year, his progress had been remarkable. The incident at the bar had provided a much-needed boost to his confidence, and his combat abilities had skyrocketed. Izuku could now effortlessly handle multiple opponents simultaneously. But she knew the true source of his impressive feats: his eyes.

Those extraordinary eyes not only revealed minute details of the world to him but also supercharged his brain to process this information. His neural activity operated at fifty times the speed of an average human, courtesy of his unique ocular gift.

Yet, this in no way diminished Izuku's accomplishments. Upon realizing the extent of his eye-enhanced mental capabilities a few months prior, many would have grown complacent. Not Izuku. The club incident had ignited a passionate drive within him to learn and grow. He pushed himself relentlessly, setting and surpassing increasingly ambitious goals.

His dedication was bearing fruit. Izuku was starting to take to combat as naturally as a fish to water. Once he grasped the fundamentals, his improvement rate matched his academic prowess. This filled her with pride and satisfaction. While room for growth remained, he was finally beginning to tap into his full potential, and that was enough to content her for now.

However, he still required a gentle nudge towards the path she envisioned for him. Fortuitously, an opportunity had presented itself, just as she'd anticipated a year ago during their bar excursion.

She clapped her hands, the sound echoing through the empty gymnasium. "Excellent work, gentlemen," the President commended as the trio halted their match. "But we'll need to conclude for today."

The two boys, excluding Izuku, bowed deeply before hastily exiting the gymnasium.

Izuku regarded the President quizzically. "What's this about?" he inquired, his voice radiating a confidence absent a year prior. "I thought my training extended until evening?"

His newfound self-assurance impressed her greatly. A little praise indeed went a long way. "We have an engagement to attend," she stated matter-of-factly. Yukimiru appeared behind her, proffering a shopping bag. The President accepted it and passed it to Izuku. "Get cleaned up and wear this. I'll wait for you in the parking lot."

Izuku accepted the bag with a skeptical look. "Suuure..." he drawled, his suspicion evident.

Half an hour later, the green-haired youth strode into the parking lot, adjusting his newly donned black suit.

"Ready?" she inquired.

"Yup," Izuku affirmed.

"Into the car, then."

After a three-hour drive, the President's vehicle halted before a cemetery gate. Izuku exited the car, peering at the entrance in confusion through his dark glasses. "Why are we at a cemetery?"

"Follow me," the President instructed curtly, making her way inside.

Izuku shrugged internally and complied. They sought shelter beneath a tree.

"So, care to explain why we're here?" Izuku pressed, glancing around.

"Look there," the President directed, nodding forward.

Izuku's brow furrowed as he followed her gaze. His eyes narrowed upon noticing a gathering of black-clad mourners. "Someone's passed, I see. May they find peace." He turned to the President. "Are we here to pay our respects?"

"Not a bad notion," the President mused, striding towards the funeral procession.

"Wait, what?" Izuku sputtered in disbelief, hurrying after her.

As the President approached the mourning crowd, they took notice of her.

"We were here to pay respects to my husband," she lied smoothly. "We noticed this funeral. Would you mind if we joined you in paying our respects?"

Most seemed satisfied with her explanation. An older woman, likely the host, nodded tearfully.

Izuku eyed the President quizzically but remained silent as he took his place beside her.

"If I may ask, what happened?" the President inquired softly to the woman beside her.

"It was..." the woman began, then faltered. She sighed heavily. "A family of two... A mother and daughter... they were... they..." The words seemed to cause her physical pain.

"Please, don't feel obligated to share if it's too difficult," the President said gently.

The woman fell silent as the President turned her attention to the priest. Izuku, intrigued by their exchange, also focused forward.

"They were murdered," the woman suddenly uttered, her voice hollow. "My sister... and niece... murdered."

Izuku felt a chill run down his spine, his eyes widening in shock.

The President turned to her, aghast. Whether genuine or feigned, only she knew. "When?"

"Two days ago," the woman replied. "I know what you're going to ask next. Who did it? According to evidence found at my sister's home, it was a quirkless criminal who'd been jailed a year ago and released just weeks back."

Izuku's heart shattered. This couldn't be possible, right? It couldn't be the man he'd spared a year ago. No, it had to be someone else. Yes, that was it. Some other man had done this heinous act, not that guy. Lost in his anguished thoughts, he hadn't noticed his quickening breath.

The President, aware of his distress, placed a comforting hand on his back. "Son? Are you alright?"

He didn't respond.

"I think my son overheard. I shouldn't have asked," the President said, her face etched with remorse. She turned to the woman with a soft smile. "Please excuse us," she said, gently taking Izuku's hand and leading him away.

They found an empty bench, and the President urged Izuku to sit. She took a seat beside him before asking, "Are you alright?"

"Please... Please tell me it's not who I think it is," he pleaded, desperately hoping his suspicion was wrong.

The President sighed sorrowfully and averted her gaze. "I'm sorry, Izuku."

"Why? Why? Why?" Izuku cried, his eyes wild and unfocused. He clutched at his hair, fingers digging painfully into his scalp as he teetered on the brink of a breakdown. "Why would he do this? How could anyone be so cruel?" His voice cracked, raw with anguish and disbelief.

"Now you understand why not everyone deserves a second chance," the President said solemnly.

"But... But heroes always give villains a second chance, right? I've seen all those videos where All Might hands villains over to the authorities, saying he wants to give everyone another opportunity."

"Unfortunately, this wasn't that man's second chance. It was his... who knows how many chances," the President said sadly.

"You knew," Izuku accused, glaring at her angrily. "You knew something like this would happen. Yet you let it happen. You let him do that to that family!"

"And? I gave you the chance to end him, didn't I? I told you about his crimes, yet YOU decided to let him go. You wanted no more bloodshed that day," the President countered, her voice sharp.

"But... You... You could have..." Izuku stammered.

"Could have what? Killed him myself? He was your responsibility, Izuku. His fate rested in your hands. Ensured he never left prison? Unfortunately, government laws don't make it easy to keep a quirkless man incarcerated for long. At most, I could have extended his sentence by two years without being branded a bigot and racist."

"I..." Tears streamed down Izuku's face.

"Izuku," the President began slowly, her tone softening. "I'm training you to be a Hero - not just any hero, but the Number One. As a hero, you'll face choices far more difficult than anything you've encountered. Every decision carries consequences. Just like for that mother and daughter."

"I... I didn't... I didn't want to... I'm so sorry..." Izuku sobbed, the weight of his indirect role in the family's fate crushing him.

The President pulled him into a warm embrace. "Shh... It's alright," she soothed. "Let this be a lesson. Steel your heart next time. Your path to becoming the Number One Hero won't be easy. It's going to be fraught with obstacles. Some will break you, some will make you bleed. But remember always. What doesn't kill you only makes you stronger. And rest assured, throughout that arduous journey, I'll be right beside you. Guiding and supporting you. All you need to do is heed my advice, and you'll reach the top in no time." She finished with a gentle smile, rubbing soothing circles on Izuku's back.

Crows cawed ominously in the background. The coming years would test Izuku beyond measure. He would face countless hurdles to navigate alone. But the looming question remained.

Would he persevere? Or would he crumble under the pressure?


Chapter End


Next Chapter: 3 years later...


Author's Post-Chapter Comments:-

The first draft of this chapter had Izuku meeting Toga and them forming a bond of sorts and then I was going to break it mercilessly. But I decided to go against it because I wanted to use that storyline to build a different relationship, not particularly a romantic one though.

Also, wanted to use this chapter to show how fucked up the President is to take a literal child to... Yes, there. I am not intending for the HPSC to be good in this story. Never was.

The HPSC, especially the President, is going to be as messed up as a you can imagine. I am intending to explore how a corrupt and evil organization would exploit a child's trauma for their own goals. And how Izuku wades through this corruption and finally becomes the hero that we all have grown to love.

I was also recently watching Boys. And man do I hate Homelander. Also, I got inspired by the Boys' concept and I might just use a few in this story.

P.S.: Master Yoshi in this story has no connection with the one in Dragon Ball. This name just came to my mind when I was writing the story and I added it.