Chapter Text
Metal crashed against radiant steel with a sound like thunder hitting a wall. Cracks spiderwebbed through the pavement beneath his boots, but Izuku held firm—shield braced, armor flaring gold, the force of the blow roaring past him in a tornado of debris.
He didn’t move an inch.
“Someone—!” His voice strained against the grinding metal. “Please—anyone—help her!”
No footsteps came.
No voices answered.
They were all stunned by the impossible sight before them.
Only Ochako’s faint, pained breaths under the rubble behind him.
Izuku drew a shuddering breath. Fear tightened in his throat—but something brighter pressed up against it. He grit his teeth.
“Fine. I'll do it myself.”
He shifted his weight and slammed the shield upward with every scrap of strength he had.
“SHIELD BASH!”
Light detonated across the shield’s surface. The Zero Pointer’s massive fist jerked back, its arm thrown off balance by the explosive burst of force.
The opening was small. Izuku didn’t hesitate.
His sword was already in his hand. He thrust it skyward in a brilliant arc, gold spiraling along the blade.
“Confiteor!”
The street erupted.
A colossal sword of pure, radiant light speared upward from the ground beneath the Zero Pointer—an enormous holy blade mirroring Izuku’s upward thrust, rising like a divine verdict. It cleaved straight through the robot’s torso.
The Zero Pointer didn’t fall.
It simply froze—bisected, silent, its systems stunned and flickering. It teetered back and forth, as if unsure of what it was supposed to do next.
Izuku was already running, his sword sheathed at his hip, his shield stowed on his back.
He dropped beside the rubble where Ochako lay trapped. Dust streaked her hair; pain flickered across her eyes as she tried to meet his gaze.
“You have to—” she whispered, voice breaking in panic. “Go. Please. You did enough—just… go.”
“I’m not leaving you.”
His hands dug into the broken concrete. He pushed. Hard. His arms trembled. His breath hitched. The stone didn’t move.
He tightened his grip. “Come on—!” Nothing. His strength buckled, his knees shaking under him—
“Please—leave! What if it falls on you?!”
"I'm NOT leaving you!"
A spark.
A rush.
A snap of power deep in his chest—
***
With a thunderous crash, the Zero Pointer collapsed, releasing a cloud of dust on impact.
A group of examinees stood frozen at the edges of the ruined street, staring at the toppled remains.
Someone whispered, “Is anyone still in there…? Did the guy in the armor get out?”
The dust thickened. Shadows shifted. A soft glow emerged.
Slowly, a silhouette stepped through the swirling haze.
The green-haired examinee, armor dimming from battle-bright gold to a steady warm sheen,walked forward with calm, steady steps. His shield was strapped to his back, his sword sheathed at his hip.
And in his arms, held gently against his chest, was the brunette woman he'd been defending.
She blinked weakly, conscious. Safe.
Gasps rippled through the watching students as he carried her out of the settling cloud.
Behind him, the Zero Pointer lay in two perfect halves, cut cleanly in two at the waist.
***
The observation deck had gone silent.
Dust churned across the monitors, swallowing half the exam zone.
Power Loader pointed weakly at the bisected Zero Pointer. “Th-that’s… the reinforced chassis… how did he even—?”
Aizawa wasn’t listening. He’d rewound the footage and was scrubbing frame by frame. One moment: Midoriya in a black compression shirt and green track pants, sprinting toward the trapped girl. The next: a burst of blinding gold light, and suddenly he was armored head-to-toe. Gleaming armor, flowing blue cape, and a shining sword and shield conjured out of nothing.
“That’s not equipment,” Aizawa muttered. “He wasn’t carrying anything. Is his quirk some kind of instantaneous generation?”
Thirteen leaned in. “He went straight on the defensive. He prioritized the rescue, but he didn’t ignore the threat. That’s rare.”
Kan tore his eyes from the feed. “We’ve seen him switch forms all day. Shields, ranged blasts, sword techniques—but this—this is a whole new form. Did we just witness a quirk awakening?”
Nedzu’s ears twitched. “An interesting hypothesis,” he said lightly. “But not quite.”
Kan glared. “Then how do you explain a brand new style exactly when he needs it?!”
Nedzu didn’t explain.
He opened a pair of archive files instead.
A small neighborhood school, the playground. A cluster of crying kids with injuries. A tiny Midoriya steps between a blast-happy young Bakugo and two other boys.
The transcript snippet flickered at the bottom:
“You can’t attack someone just because you want to prove you’re strong. That’s what villains do.”
Bakugo’s face twisted in confusion.
Izuku dropped beside the wounded kids, panicked—
—and light erupted around him.
A shimmering barrier of green-blue energy burst outward. His clothing became flowing robes, a glowing spellbook manifesting at his side, the pixie glowing gold as they flew toward him.
The clip ended on Izuku casting his first healing shield.
Aizawa muttered, “So his quirk took a support-oriented form first…”
The second clip was much more dramatic, and one most of the heroes knew. Burning street. Sludge villain. A boy trapped.
Young Midoriya dashed into frame, energy whipping around him as his first form shifted—exploding into red-white light and restructuring itself into a completely different outfit and weapon set.
Long coat. Wide-brimmed hat. Rapier. Focus crystal. In the background, the Pixie, glowing red and white.
A high-speed, magically infused combat stance.
Aizawa exhaled. “And then a completely different mode manifested years later.”
Nedzu closed the clips.
Kan stared at the now-blank screen, then at the dust cloud on the main monitor. “So… today was manifestation number three?”
Nezu smiled. “As far as we are aware, that is a fair interpretation.”
Power Loader slumped. “My robot…”
The dust on-screen finally began to thin.
A silhouette stepped forward—small but steady, armor glowing faintly gold.
Izuku Midoriya emerged from the haze, carrying Ochako Uraraka securely in his arms. Armor dimmed, shield strapped to his back, sword sheathed neatly.
Midnight gasped and put a hand to her cheek. “Ohhh, that is adorable. Princess carry, the ultimate carry of love!”
Thirteen was impressed. “That slab had to have weighed seven hundred pounds, but he got her out... That’s a hell of a feat!”
Aizawa sighed. “Problem child.”
Power Loader whimpered, “My robot…”
Nezu’s tail flicked. “Fascinating.”
They watched dust drift like ash behind the young man as he carried the rescued girl across the ruined street.
All Might said nothing, his eyes watching a different screen.
***
The med tent hummed with quiet urgency—fabric rustling, carts rolling, healers murmuring instructions. After the battlefield chaos, the slower, less chaotic pace of this safe space was inviting.
Izuku stepped inside carrying Ochako, and half the staff froze.
He was still armored. Still glowing. Still radiating the fading edge of the power that had torn a Zero Pointer apart.
Recovery Girl hobbled over and squinted up at him like she was inspecting faulty equipment. “Put her down, dearie. Carefully now.”
Izuku nearly tripped over his own boots as he lowered Ochako onto the cot. “Y-yes ma’am!”
Ochako tried to smile through the lingering pain. “I’m okay. Really. Thanks to you.”
Izuku bowed so quickly his armor rang. “I’m so sorry you got hurt! I should’ve—I mean, someone should’ve been there sooner, and I—”
“Breathe,” Recovery Girl snapped, though not unkindly.
Izuku sucked in a breath. Then another. Then he noticed his hands were trembling.
Recovery Girl saw it instantly. “Good grief. Sit before you fall over.”
“But—I can help heal—I have a Job that lets me—”
“Sit,” she repeated, tapping his shin with her cane.
Izuku sat. Feo Ul drifted beside him, wings dimming with concern. They pressed a tiny hand to his cheek. “Sweet Sapling… you’re shaking worse than the girl you carried.” Their tone softened. “Release the armor. It’s safe now.”
Izuku blinked. “…Oh. Right. Sorry.” A soft pulse of light swept over him. The armor unraveled into drifting gold motes that winked out one by one. Without it, he looked smaller—paler—like someone who had run far past his reserves.
His knees wobbled. Recovery Girl handed him a sports drink and ahandful of gummies with the authority of someone who had healed three generations of idiots. “Drink, and eat these.”
Izuku obeyed instantly, chugging half the bottle in three seconds, before munching on the gummies, swallowing thickly. He gasped. “Sorry—I didn’t mean to—”
“You just saved another student while a fifty meter robot tried to kill you,” Recovery Girl said briskly. “Stop apologizing and hydrate.”
Feo Ul settled on his shoulder, wings brushing his jaw. “You did well, sweetling. But collapsing in front of mortals tends to frighten them.” They gave him a small, proud smile. “Rest before you topple like the machine you just carved in half.”
Izuku flushed. “I—I wasn’t going to collapse…” He swayed.
Recovery Girl caught him with her cane. “Yes, you were.”
He sagged against the cot, breathing slowly as the tremors finally eased. Izuku exhaled, letting his shoulders slump.
For the first time since the fist fell, he let himself feel tired.
***
He sat on the edge of a cot, sports drink in hand, hands still trembling slightly despite Feo Ul’s gentle scolding and Recovery Girl’s stern fussing.
Across the room, Ochako stared at him.
Her breath caught in her throat. The image replayed over and over in her mind: the dust storm, the radiant armor, the sword of light splitting the Zero Pointer in two, and Izuku stepping forward through the haze with her cradled in his arms.
The Crimson Savior. She’d spent hours watching that video of the sludge incident, read dozens of forums threads about his quirk.
He was smaller up close, softer, his breaths shaky, cheeks warm with exhaustion—but none of that diminished the awe settling in her chest.
She walked toward him slowly.
Izuku blinked at her approach. “O-Ochako? You should be lying down. You were hurt, and—”
She lifted her hands, cupped his face gently—
And kissed him.
A deep, full, breath-stealing kiss. Tongue brushing his lower lip before she realized what she was doing. Relief and shock and gratitude poured into it all at once.
Izuku froze for a heartbeat. Then leaned into it. One hand found her waist. The other slid to her hip. He pulled her close, kissing her back with soft, steady certainty born of past experience.
Ochako made a tiny startled sound at the confidence of it, but didn’t pull away.
Which was exactly when the curtain swished open.
Katsuki stepped into the tent, and stopped dead, mid-step.
Izuku kissing Ochako. Ochako kissing him back. Feo Ul hovering nearby like they were taking notes for a gossip column.
Katsuki’s jaw clicked shut.
Then opened again, a wicked grin stretched slowly across his face.
“Well,” he drawled, folding his arms, “isn’t this interesting.”
Ochako jerked back, hands flying to her mouth.
Izuku didn’t let go though. He held on, half-laughing. "I didn’t know she was gonna kiss me like that. Besides, you’re just jealous.”
Katsuki shrugged. “Maybe yeah. But I thought you’d at least tell me when you picked up another partner. Fucking rude.”
“Never agreed to that!”
Katsuki smirked. “Well, at least she’s got a nice—”
“KACCHAN!"
“—face.”
***
The cafeteria had emptied out just enough that the noise wasn’t overwhelming—clusters of examinees eating, whispering about the test, replaying their victories or lamenting their mistakes over the free Lunch Rush meal offered by the university.
Izuku carried his tray with both hands, still a little shaky from the adrenaline. Katsuki walked beside him, pretending not to keep an eye on him. Ochako followed, feeling like she was floating more than walking.
Izuku gestured awkwardly. “Um… if you don’t have any other plans, would you like to eat with us?”
Ochako brightened. “I’d love to!”
They found a relatively quiet table near the wall. Izuku sat stiffly. Katsuki sprawled with calculated nonchalance. Ochako took the seat across from them and tried very hard not to replay the kiss on loop in her brain. Izuku sipped his sports drink, still trying to calm his nerves. Katsuki nudged his shoulder lightly. “You good?”
The nudge was gentle. Familiar. Too familiar. Ochako blinked.
W-wait.
Izuku leaned closer without noticing, their shoulders brushing. “Yeah, I’m okay. Just a little… worn out.”
Feo Ul perked up, hovering near his head. “Of course you’re tired, my Sapling. You manifested a new job today! And a glorious one indeed! Paladin! The defender of the weak, sworn to an oath of protection!”
Katsuki’s expression softened, before turning to Izuku. “Yeah. I saw the video. Someone had a Technopathy quirk in your area. They uploaded a video of your “Golden Emergence” to HeroTube. That was a hell of a stunt you pulled.”
“Thanks,” Izuku murmured, ducking his head, before looking up quickly. “Wait, HeroTube? Oh no...”
Ochako stared. Not at Izuku. Not at Katsuki. At them together.
They weren’t acting like bros. Not like normal bros. Katsuki’s tone was too soft. Izuku leaned into him too naturally. Their knees brushed under the table and neither reacted. And when Izuku smiled tiredly, Katsuki smiled back—just a little, but enough to make Ochako’s heart do something strange and warm and dangerous.
Oh. Oh no. Oh yes? Her face heated. Her pulse fluttered. Her nose tickled... Oh no. A tiny dribble of blood slid from her nostril. Izuku noticed immediately.
“O-Ochako! You’re bleeding! Did something happen? Did you hit your—?!”
Katsuki leaned across the table, squinting. “You good?”
Ochako jolted upright, waving her hands frantically.
“I’M FINE!! It’s nothing!! Just—um—low blood sugar!? Or the heat!? Uhhh—salt?!” She grabbed a rice ball to justify her words. “Eating! Eating now!”
Izuku panicked. “Do you need a medic—?”
“Nope! No medics! All good!” She shoved rice in her mouth. “Mmmphf! See?!”
Katsuki raised one eyebrow. Izuku looked concerned.
Feo Ul hovered above Izuku’s head, tilting their tiny face with mischievous curiosity. “Interesting reaction, sweet Sapling,” they murmured to him. “You might have overwhelmed her.”
Izuku turned pink.
Ochako nearly died internally. She was shoving another bite of rice into her mouth when Izuku’s attention suddenly shifted past her shoulder.
“Huh…?” He leaned sideways for a better look.
Across the cafeteria, a blonde girl sat alone at the end of a long table—blue eyes downcast, posture stiff. She ate slowly, almost absentmindedly, pausing every few bites to flex her right arm like it ached.
She looked lost.
She looked like she was trying not to be seen.
She looked… familiar.
Feo Ul’s wings stilled. They turned toward the girl, expression sharpening with intrigue.
Izuku squinted, and his breath caught. “Is that… Melissa Shield?”
Ochako turned to look.
Katsuki frowned, recognizing the name.
***
Feo Ul slipped off Izuku’s shoulder without warning, drifting across the cafeteria with a deliberate, quiet glide. Their wings dimmed to a soft, curious shimmer as they moved toward something only they seemed able to sense. Izuku reached out helplessly. “Feo—wai—no no no—!”
Feo Ul ignored him completely.
At the far end of the room, Melissa Shield had been eating alone—slow, methodical bites, her posture tight as she flexed her right arm between mouthfuls. She didn’t look up until a gold-winged blur floated directly into her peripheral vision.
Her fork hit the tray with a sharp clink. “Oh my gosh—!” Feo Ul hovered inches from her face, eyes bright with interest. Melissa’s breath caught. “You’re—you’re Feo Ul. You’re really Feo Ul.” A few nearby examinees turned at the excitement in her voice.
Feo Ul blinked serenely. “Yes.”
Melissa’s hands flew to her mouth. “I’ve read so many articles about you—quirk autonomy papers, projection theory threads, that entire legal debacle—this is incredible—!”
Feo Ul tilted their head. “They call me many things.” A smile, sly and quiet.“Most of them are wrong.”
Melissa made a delighted noise that came dangerously close to a squeal. Feo Ul drifted backward, gesturing toward Izuku’s table. “Come. My Sapling is working up the courage to breathe again.”
Melissa blinked—and then laughed, bright and startled at the same time. “Okay. Yeah. Sure.”
She gathered her tray and followed.
Izuku was already half-standing, face flushing. “Hi—um—sorry—Feo Ul likes to wander, they're uh—they're friendly—hi.”
Melissa grinned. “Hi! Izuku Midoriya, right? I’m Melissa. Melissa Shield—but just Melissa’s fine.”
Ochako nodded enthusiastically. “Nice to meet you, Melissa!”
Katsuki gave her a once over. “OK, yeah. Hi, or whatever.”
The blonde woman sat with them, setting her tray down carefully. Feo Ul settled onto Izuku’s backpack, wings flickering with quiet satisfaction. “I cannot believe I’m actually seeing them in person. There are entire threads debating whether they're a construct or a new form of quirk cognition—some people think you’re generating an avatar, others think they're a fully independent being—”
Izuku choked on his water. “Th-they're, um… complicated.”
Feo Ul smiled like they were keeping twelve secrets. “A pleasant misunderstanding.”
Melissa’s eyes glimmered with science-brain excitement, but she didn’t push.
Katsuki nodded toward Melissa’s right arm. “That strain from something?”
Melissa reflexively flexed it and winced. “Ah—yeah. Pushed myself too hard earlier. I’m okay, I promise. Just some quirk backlash.”
Izuku frowned. “If it keeps hurting, you should really see Recovery Girl.”
“I will,” Melissa said softly. “Thank you.”
Ochako watched her carefully—her brightness, her nerves, the way Izuku softened when speaking to her. She wasn’t jealous… exactly. But she definitely understood the appeal.
Feo Ul’s wings hummed faintly as they studied Melissa with an expression too ancient for their tiny frame. “Your energy is… familiar.”
Melissa blinked. “Familiar how?”
Before Feo Ul could elaborate, Izuku felt the world tilt.
That sideways sensation he’d felt before, his vision going grey as the world around him was replaced with something from another time.
A workshop on I-Island.
Fourteen-year-old Melissa stood across from Toshinori Yagi, not the Symbol of Peace, but the gaunt man beneath the smile.
She looked scared.
He looked tired.
Both looked like they wished time would slow down.
“You don’t have to do this,” Melissa whispered. “You can still—”
“No,” Toshinori said gently. “My time is shortening faster than I hoped. I’m already down to less than 6 hours a day.”
Melissa’s hands shook. “So why me?”
“Because,” he said softly, “you‘re the only one it could be.” He sat next to her, letting her cry into his shirt. He’d shown her the research, explained it again and again. It was a lot for a teenaged girl to take in.
She swallowed hard.
He rested a hand on her shoulder.
“The next three years are going to be hard. You’ll work harder than you likely ever had to before this. If you aren’t strong enough, the backlash of the quirk could seriously hurt you. I won’t let that happen.”
The memory washed out, fading to reveal a small training room.
Seventeen-year-old Melissa stood ready, stronger, steadier, built from three years of discipline and preparation.
Toshinori held out a single strand of hair. His voice trembled, not from fear, but from hope. “It’s time.”
She took it without hesitation. Yagi buffed up, smiling.
“As my master passed it to me, I give it to you. One for All is your quirk now.”
The vision broke.
Izuku blinked. A half second had passed.
Melissa was still sitting there, flexing her right arm absently as she talked to Ochako. Katsuki was chewing. Ochako was mid-nod.
Feo Ul hovered near Izuku’s shoulder, tilting their head. “Sapling?” they asked softly. “Your aether… flickered. Just for a moment.” Their tone held curiosity and concern, nothing more.
Izuku swallowed, forcing his breath even.
Melissa looked up and smiled at him, unaware her past had flashed across his mind like a perfectly preserved memory.
Izuku looked back down at his tray. He realized he’d learned something he probably shouldn’t have.
***
Lunch had settled into a comfortable rhythm, the pleasant awkwardness of people who had survived something together.
Melissa laughed at Katsuki’s dry commentary.
Ochako relaxed enough to joke about nearly tripping during her initial sprint.
Izuku felt himself slowly unclench.
Even Feo Ul quieted, perched on his shoulder like a small lantern observing new constellations.
It was… nice.
Then the cafeteria doors slammed open.
“MELLIIIIIIIIIEEEEE!” The shout cut through the room like a thrown wrench.
Melissa turned, waiting for something. “Right on time.”
Before Izuku could ask, a pink-haired missile barreled between tables, scattering chairs, nearly knocking over three trays, aiming directly at Melissa with laser precision.
“MELLIE! THERE YOU ARE!”
Izuku yelped. Ochako squeaked. Katsuki grabbed his drink before it toppled. Feo Ul darted to Izuku and nestled into his hair.
Melissa stood just in time for Mei Hatsume to collide with her in a hug that was part affection, part kinetic explosion.
“I was searching EVERYWHERE,” Mei rattled off without taking a breath. “You weren’t in the lobby—weren’t in the hallway—”
“Mei,” Melissa said gently, steadying her with both hands. “Breathing.”
Mei inhaled sharply, then grinned so brightly it was almost a physical force.
“Hi Mellie. I missed you.”
Melissa flushed, but smiled. “I missed you too.”
Mei nuzzled her cheek once, then finally seemed to register the existence of other humans at the table. Her goggles whirred twice.
“OH. PEOPLE.”
Izuku stiffened. Ochako sat up straighter. Katsuki raised a brow.
Mei blinked, startled. “You have a bug in your hair.”
“No,” Izuku said gently. “I’m—I’m Izuku Midoriya.” He pointed to the pixie untangling themself from his locks. “This is my quirk partner, Feo Ul. Uh… hi.”
Mei leaned in close—too close—studying him with pure analytical curiosity. “I was watching the heroics exam. You generated an energy barrier during the exam. And a cutting phenomenon. Both were BEAUTIFUL. Do it again.”
Izuku choked. “N-not here!”
Katsuki snorted. “He’s not a trained dog, weirdo.”
Mei’s goggles refocused on him. “Explosion boy. You were really efficient in your movements.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Got it. Explosion man.”
“NO—”
Melissa stepped in, lightly touching Mei’s arm. “Mei, these are my… new friends. We just met. Please be gentle.”
Mei reeled her volume back by half a decibel. “Oh! Okay! Sorry! Hi! I’m Hatsume Mei—Support Course applicant—and Mellie’s partner.”
Ochako’s eyes went wide. “Partner like… dating?”
Mei brightened. “Yes! Also, I'm on the spectrum. I'm not great with non-verbal social cues, So feel free to be direct with me. I'm very much not offended by bluntness. Thanks!”
Melissa turned redder. “Mei…”
“What?”
Izuku tried not to smile—it was hard to tell if he was amused, overwhelmed, or both.
Feo Ul floated a little closer, studying Mei like one might study an unstable lightning crystal. “This one is… vibrant.”
Mei perked at the tiny voice. “Hi! I’ve never met an autonomous, sentient quirk construct! Why did you choose a pixie? Was it an unconscious choice by Greenie at initial quirk expression? Or did you self determine this shape as your best option? Can you take other forms?”
Melissa groaned softly. Feo Ul preened at all the attention, their wings shimmering in delight. “I chose this form as I was manifesting, and scared my darling Sapling’s quirk doctor to boot! I’ve never tried taking other forms, though sometimes I dream I’m ten meters tall!”
Mei clapped her hands with a delighted squeal. “YOU CAN DREAM?! THIS IS THE BEST DAY EVER!”
Izuku had no idea what to do with all this energy. Ochako was quietly giggling. Katsuki looked like he’d been hit with a stun grenade. Melissa squeezed Mei’s hand—reassuring, grounding.
***
Izuku flopped face-first onto his bed with the exhausted groan of someone who had sprinted, fought, transformed, carried, panicked, bonded—all in the same day.
His room was dim except for the soft blue glow of the TV.
Feo Ul lounged in midair like a tiny queen reclining on invisible cushions, chin in their hands, kicking their feet as they watched HeroTube on autoplay.
From the screen, a dramatic voiceover declared:
“This week, on Who Wants To Marry Rock Lock,
three contestants face the ultimate compatibility challenge—
unlocking his heart!”
Izuku muffled a laugh into his pillow. “I can’t believe that show exists.”
“It lasted three episodes, dear Sapling. It was canceled because two contestants attempted to throw chairs at each other, and Rock Lock was discovered to be sleeping with the third.” Feo Ul said it with the weary wisdom of someone who had watched the downfall of empires and trash reality TV.
Izuku rolled onto his back with a sigh. “Today was… a lot.”
Feo Ul floated down and landed lightly on his chest, tapping their foot against his sternum. “Something bothers you. Talk to your beautiful branch, let me help.”
He hesitated.
Not because he didn’t want to tell them, but because the visions… felt invasive.
“I… saw something today,” Izuku whispered. “A couple of times, actually. Not just today. It happened before, when I saw Katsuki trapped in the sludge villain. And… with the Aldera principal.”
Feo Ul blinked, expression shifting from relaxed to intent.
Izuku swallowed and continued.
“It’s like—my vision slides sideways for half a second. Everything goes greyscale, and I see… someone else’s memory. Like I’m watching a video.”
Feo Ul slowly floated upward, eyes narrowing in thought.
“What did you see today?” they asked softly.
Izuku exhaled. “Melissa Shield. When she was fourteen… All Might told her she’d inherit his quirk, called One For All, someday. And then when she was seventeen… he gave it to her. I saw him literally give her a quirk. I mean—I saw it. Like I was in the room. Except I wasn’t.” He rubbed his face with both hands. “I don’t understand it, Feo. And I—I didn’t tell anyone else. Not even Katsuki.”
Feo Ul hovered in silence. That alone told him this was serious. Finally, they placed their hand against his cheek—cool, gentle, grounding.
“Little Sapling,” they murmured, “the thing you describe… is special. It is something older. Something that belonged to the heroes of my world, and only a scant few at that.”
Izuku’s breath caught. “Do you know what it is?”
Feo Ul nodded once, slowly.
“It is called the Echo.”
The name felt heavy. Ancient. Like a word carved into stone long before quirks existed.
Izuku whispered it back. “...The Echo.”
“It grants you sight into truth,” Feo Ul said softly. “Into moments that shaped a soul. Into the turning points that forged a path. Those touched by the Echo do not merely see memory—they witness the emotion, the truth beneath it.”
Izuku stared at them.
“So… it’s real? I’m not… imagining this?”
“Quite real,” Feo Ul said. “And quite rare. Truly, I have an exceptional Sapling.”
Their wings fluttered with something like pride—and worry.
“You are reaching into the weave of another’s past without meaning to. That means your aether is awakening further.”
Izuku felt his stomach drop. “That sounds… bad.”
“It is not bad,” they corrected. “It simply means your strength is growing, and cannot wait to see what you do.”
They settled beside his cheek, curling their legs beneath them like a small child settling on a cushion.
“Tell me every vision you have had,” they said gently. “We will learn together, you and I.”
Izuku let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.
And he began.
Telling them about Katsuki.
About Aldera.
About Melissa.
Feo Ul listened in complete stillness, the TV continuing to babble nonsense in the background (“Rock Lock chooses… NONE of them?!”).
When he finished, they placed one hand over his heart.
“You are growing, my darling Sapling,” they murmured. “Faster than you know. Faster than this world knows. But don’t fret, your gorgeous, marvelous branch is by your side, and always will be.”
Izuku looked up at the ceiling, overwhelmed but oddly comforted by that.
Feo Ul floated upward, dimming the TV with a tap.
“Rest now,” they said. “Tomorrow will bring its own truths.”
Izuku nodded, closing his eyes.
The room settled into quiet.
***
Ochako lay sprawled across her mattress, still in her exam-day workout clothes, hair damp from a long shower meant to calm her nerves.
It didn’t work.
Her brain kept replaying the Zero Pointer. The princess carry. The kiss. The sudden realization that Izuku and Katsuki were… not just friends. And that she maybe, possibly, probably, sort of, didn’t mind that?
She groaned, dragging a pillow over her face. “Why am I like this…?”
Her phone buzzed at her side. She jolted, wrestled the pillow off, and grabbed it. A new video from a HeroTube channel.
She hesitated.
It wasn’t weird to make a group chat, right? They’d all gotten along. Mostly. And Melissa and Mei seemed nice. And Izuku and Katsuki didn’t seem like they’d mind. Hopefully. Ochako took a breath, typed, deleted, retyped, deleted again, then finally settled on:
“U.A. Exam Survivors!”
Ochako:
Hi!! It was so nice meeting all of you today!
Thank you for making everything less scary.
Hope you’re all resting up!
Melissa:
Aww, Ochako, that’s so sweet!!
It was great meeting you too!
Mei:
HELLO NEW FRIEND I REALLY LIKED YOUR SHOES TODAY
ALSO YOU ARE VERY LIGHT HAS ANYONE TOLD YOU THAT???
Ochako:
W–what?? 😳
Melissa:
Mei. Please stop weighing people with your eyes.
Mei:
SORRY MELLIE I WILL BEHAVE (for now)
Katsuki:
…how did I get added to this?
Melissa:
Because you’re part of the friend group now??
Whether you like it or not??
Katsuki:
Fine. I guess.
Izuku:
Hi everyone!!!
It was really nice meeting you!
Um… sorry I didn’t talk much at lunch.
Mei:
YOU WERE GREAT GREENIE I HAVE SO MANY QUESTIONS ABOUT YOUR ENERGY OUTPUT RIGHT NOW
Izuku:
oh no
Ochako:
😂😂😂
Ochako laughed, warmth blooming in her chest.
This felt… nice.
Like something beginning.
But that wasn’t the message she really wanted to send.
Her eyes drifted to Katsuki’s name.
Then Izuku’s.
Her stomach flipped.
Okay. She could do this. Probably.
She backed out of the group chat and opened a new one with just the two boys.
“um hi???”
Ochako:
Um
Hi
It’s Ochako
She cringed immediately.
Ochako:
Sorry I don’t know why I typed that like it wasn’t obvious
I just
I wanted to say
Typing…
Stopping…
Typing…
Ochako:
Thank you
For everything today
Both of you
She stared at the screen, heart pounding.
Sent another before she could lose nerve:
Ochako:
I’m really glad we met
She hovered, worrying she’d said too much, but Katsuki replied almost instantly:
Katsuki:
same
Ochako’s heart did a somersault.
Izuku’s typing bubble appeared… disappeared… appeared again… and finally:
Izuku:
Me too
Really
I’m glad you’re safe
Ochako pressed her phone to her chest and kicked her feet involuntarily.
She didn’t send anything else.
Didn’t need to.
Two simple lines from two boys she’d only known one day had somehow made her whole week.
***
Morning light filtered through the Midoriya living room, warm and unhurried, illuminating dust motes drifting like they had nowhere better to be.
Izuku sat cross-legged on the floor by the coffee table, a mug of tea cooling between his hands. His muscles still ached from the exam — not painfully, just enough to remind him that yesterday had been real.
Feo Ul hovered upside-down in front of the television, utterly absorbed.
The front door opened without warning.
“Katsuki!” Inko called from the kitchen. “Shoes!”
“I KN- I know,” Katsuki started to bark back before correcting his tone, already kicking them off with practiced ease. His mom might take his shit, Inko wouldn't. He stalked into the living room, jacket slung over one shoulder, hair rumpled, eyes shadowed with exhaustion. He looked like someone who had absolutely stayed up too late and was pretending he hadn’t.
Izuku smiled. “Morning.”
Katsuki grunted. “Don’t start.”
Feo Ul righted themself midair, then sniffed. “You smell of sleep deprivation and poor life choices.”
“Yeah? You smell like glitter and bad opinions,” Katsuki shot back, collapsing onto the couch. Feo Ul feigned hurt, the huffed, and drifted off to the kitchen.
Izuku set his mug aside. “You didn’t have to come over this early.”
Katsuki shrugged. “Didn’t want to sit around my place doing nothing.”
That… tracked. They sat in companionable silence for a moment, the kind that only came from years of shared space, shared history, shared quiet.
“No results for a week,” Izuku said finally. “That feels… wrong.”
“Yeah,” Katsuki muttered. “Like waiting for a punch that never comes.” He stared at the ceiling, then added, almost casually,“We should take a break.”
Izuku blinked. Once. Twice. Then a third time. “A what? Are you breaking up with me?”
"No Idiot. A vacation. Something not training or studying or getting almost killed.” Katsuki glanced at him. “We’ve been at this since we were kids. One damn week isn’t gonna ruin us.”
Feo Ul drifted in from the kitchen, a cookie in their hands. “Ah, the classic Anime Beach Episode !”
Izuku laughed softly, moment of panic passed. “You’re serious?”
“Dead serious.”
Before Izuku could respond, his phone buzzed. Ochako. He opened the message, shoulders relaxing as he read.
Ochako:
um so this might be kind of random
but since results take a week
do you want to visit Mie?
I live near the beach
totally okay if not!!
Katsuki reading it on his own phone, snorted. “Beach. Yeah. That works.”
Izuku typed back.
Izuku:
That sounds really nice. We were thinking of taking a week off anyways.
Is... is a whole week okay?
The reply came almost instantly.
Ochako:
YES
I mean—yes!
There’s a quiet part of the coast nearby!
Izuku hesitated only a second before saying, “We should rent a place. Give her family space.”
“Good call,” Katsuki said immediately.
Izuku scrolled through listings. Nothing extravagant. Nothing tiny either.
“I can cover it,” he said. “I’ve got some money saved.”
Katsuki glanced at him, then nodded once. No argument. No pride games. “Alright. Then I’m picking my room.”
Feo Ul clapped their tiny hands. “A seaside retreat! Sun! Sand! Mortals slowly realizing they forgot sunscreen!”
Izuku smiled as he bookmarked a house with wide windows and a short walk to the water, then sent a link to Ochako with the comment "Rented for a week, starting tomorrow!"
His phone buzzed again.
Ochako:
thank you
really
I’m excited
Katsuki leaned back, stretching. “A week,” he muttered. “Huh.”
Izuku felt the same strange thing he’d felt earlier — a lightness he wasn’t used to yet.
A pause. A breath.
A week where nothing was chasing them.