MHA Rewrite: Plus Ultra

The clinic smells faintly of disinfectant and lemon wipes. Four-year-old Izuku sits on the exam table, legs swinging, sneakers not touching the floor. He grips a plastic All Might figurine in both hands. The doctor smiles kindly. “So, Izuku, what do you want to be when you grow up?” Izuku doesn’t hesitate. “A hero!” His voice is loud. Certain. His eyes sparkle like he’s announcing something obvious. The doctor chuckles. “A hero, huh?” “Yes! Like All Might! I’m going to save everyone. Even the scary villains!” His mother laughs softly from the chair beside him, eyes warm. “He practices every day.” Izuku straightens proudly. “I am here!” he declares, mimicking the pose perfectly. His mother claps. Another scene. Playground gravel crunches under sneakers. Bakugo stands in the center of a small crowd, palm sparking. The other kids gasp. “Whoa!” “Kacchan’s so cool!” Izuku pushes through them, grinning wider than anyone. “That was amazing!” Bakugo scoffs, but his chin lifts slightly. “When we grow up,” Izuku says breathlessly, “we’ll both go to U.A., right? We’ll be the best heroes!” Bakugo doesn’t answer immediately. He grins. Then, “Tch. Obviously.” Izuku beams like he’s been given a sacred oath. Another scene. The X-ray glows on the lightboard. The doctor’s tone is careful now. Too careful. “It’s the extra joint in the pinky toe.” Izuku tilts his head. “Extra?” “In most cases, children without quirks have it. It’s a vestigial trait.” Silence. Izuku blinks. “So… when will my quirk come in?” The doctor doesn’t answer immediately. His mother’s hands tremble in her lap. “I’m sorry,” the doctor says gently. “But it’s extremely unlikely that you will develop a quirk.” The room feels smaller. Izuku looks down at his foot. Then at the figurine in his hand. All Might is frozen mid-smile. The plastic slips from his fingers. It hits the floor. The sound is louder than it should be. His mother hugs Izuku. “I’m sorry, Izuku!” Crying. Izuku just stares at the floor. All Might stares back up at him. Taunting.  Another scene. The apartment door shuts harder than usual. “Izuku?” Inko’s voice follows him down the hallway, thin with worry. “Izuku, wait—” He doesn’t answer. He marches straight to his room and shuts the door behind him. Not violently. Just firmly. Then he stands there. Breathing. The room feels different now. Smaller. Like it’s watching him. Hero posters cover the walls. All Might mid-smash. All Might smiling. All Might victorious. He stares at them. His chest tightens. A sound escapes him — half breath, half something else. He steps forward and yanks one down. The tape peels with a dry rip. “Argh!”  He crumples it immediately and throws it across the room. Another. And another. They tear more easily than he expects. His desk gets shoved. Notebooks fall. A figurine tips over and clatters against the floor. Outside the door, Inko’s voice trembles. “Izuku? Please… talk to me…” He doesn’t respond. He rips another poster down — hands shaking now — and then his eyes land on it. All Might. The biggest one. Bright smile. Arm raised. “I am here!” Izuku’s breathing turns uneven. His fingers grab the edge. He pulls— And stops. His shoulders shake. He presses his forehead briefly against the paper. Then, slowly, he peels it off the wall. Carefully. The tape comes away in one piece. He smooths the creases flat with trembling hands. He folds it once. Then twice. Neatly. He opens his desk drawer. Places it inside. Closes it gently. The room is half-bare now. Quiet. Izuku sinks onto the floor. He just sits there, staring at the empty wall. The door creaks open. Inko stands there. She takes in the room. Posters torn down. Tape hanging. Figurines knocked over. The walls half-bare. Her hand flies to her mouth. “Izuku…” He looks up. He looks broken. “Mom…” His voice cracks. He doesn’t stand. He doesn’t hide the tears. He just looks at her like he’s waiting for the world to be fixed. “Can I be a hero…?” The question breaks something. Inko inhales sharply. Her shoulders tremble. She tries to answer. She opens her mouth— Nothing comes out. Her knees give. She drops in front of him, hands clutching at his shirt as if he’s the one slipping away. “Oh, Izuku—!” The sob tears out of her before she can contain it. “I’m so sorry! I’m so sorry—!” She pulls him into her chest, folding over him like she’s trying to shield him from something invisible. Her body shakes. Not elegant tears. Not composed. It’s raw guilt. Because in her mind, this is her fault. She didn’t pass on a quirk. She didn’t protect him from this world. She failed him. Izuku stiffens in her arms. The room is quiet except for her crying. He doesn’t ask again. He doesn’t get an answer. He just hears her apologize. And that becomes the answer. No, Mom… Those weren’t the words I wanted you to say… What I wanted was…- Cuts back to present White ceiling. Beeping. Sterile air. Izuku’s eyes open slowly. Everything feels heavy. Distant. He turns his head slightly over to the crumpled form of his mother, her face buried on Deku’s bed as she sobs quietly. (Write something here to describe she’s now fat.) “Mom…?” Inko jerks upright in her chair. “Izuku!” Tears spilling freely beside her radiant smile, her hands cup his face, brushing damp strands of green hair from his forehead.  “You’re okay! Oh, thank goodness you’re okay!” She leans forward, pressing her forehead gently to his. Her shoulders shake. Izuku later narrates he was scolded. Not gently. Grounded “for life.” No more hero nonsense. No more running into danger. The doctors explain cracked ribs, severe bruising, minor chemical burns from the sludge. Nothing permanent. He’ll recover. He listens. He nods. Then the visit. The hospital door slides open. Bakugo enters stiffly, uniform replaced with casual clothes. His jaw is tight. Behind him, his mother. His mother began to apologize and explain to Inko that Bakugo was the one who caused Izuku’s injuries, that All Might stopped him and informed her and the teachers about him. She informs he will be punished. Then she goes into a full dogeza. When she sees Bakugo not doing it, she stands up and punches Bakugo’s head, yelling at him to do it. Bakugo reluctantly complies. Inko panics and waves her hands awkwardly, telling them they don’t have to do that.  Bakugo’s mother lifts her head just enough to look at Izuku. Her eyes are wet.  “Midoriya-kun… Thank you. You’ve saved my son.”  Izuku blinks. Bakugo’s mom bows again. “You’re a hero.”  Izuku doesn’t react. He just looks at Bakugo. Bakugo looks back. No expression. But there’s something there. Then Bakugo straightens first. “Tch.” He turns his head away. It takes convincing. A lot of it. “I’ll be fine, Mom.” “You need sleep.” “They said it’s nothing permanent.” Inko hesitates at the door three times before finally leaving. She bows slightly to the nurse. She looks back at him once more. Then she’s gone. The room grows quiet. Daylight spills through the hospital window. It’s too bright for how heavy everything feels. Izuku sits up slowly, wincing as his ribs protest. The movement pulls at bandages wrapped tight around his torso. On the table beside him: neatly folded clothes, toiletries, fruit, and a stack of essentials Inko packed in a rush. He reaches for the bag. His fingers pause. There it is. His notebook. The one with hero analysis. He stares at it for a long moment before picking it up. He flips it open. Page after page of observations. Weaknesses. Quirk breakdowns. Strategy sketches. Careful handwriting. Obsession in ink form. He exhales softly. “Well…” he mutters to himself. “At least I had my one moment of heroism.” It isn’t triumphant. It isn’t proud. It sounds… final. His fingers curl at the edge of the page. He starts to tear it— “I AM HERE!” The voice detonates through the room. “AH—!” Izuku nearly launches himself off the bed. Pain flares through his ribs instantly as he clutches his side. “All Might—?!” There he is. Framed in the hospital window. Smiling like the sky belongs to him. “What are you doing here…?” Izuku winces, trying to sit up straighter despite the pain. All Might laughs, booming and theatrical as always. “Ahahaha! Forgive the dramatic entrance!” He swings one leg over the sill and steps inside like this is completely normal behavior. “I could not very well ignore a young man who leapt into danger before the pros did!” His smile shines. Too bright. Izuku’s expression tightens. “Yeah, well, I don’t need your praise or your concern, so you can just—” All Might coughs. Steam bursts out and he’s instantly in his gaunt form. Blood sprays lightly from his mouth. Izuku’s eyes bulge. “ARE YOU ACTUALLY OKAY?!” All Might wheezes, knocking twice against his own chest like he’s resetting faulty machinery. Izuku stares at him, incredulous. “Just take the elevator up like a normal person…”  All Might straightens slowly, eyes steadily on Izuku. All Might straightens slowly, eyes steady on Izuku. He exhales and steps closer. “I owe you an apology.” Izuku’s eyes widen. Then narrow. Guarded. All Might does not smile. “On that rooftop… I told you that you cannot be a hero without power.” A small pause. “And I stand by that.” Izuku’s fingers tense against the bedsheets. “But that wasn’t the whole truth.” All Might’s gaze drifts briefly to the window. “Power is necessary in this world. Without it, you cannot stand against those who misuse it.” His voice lowers. “But you and I know power alone does not make someone a hero.” He looks back at Izuku. “When that villain took that boy hostage… I stood there.” A beat. “No strength left. No time left. I told myself there was nothing I could do…  And then you ran.” Izuku doesn’t speak. “You. The quirkless boy I had just told to give up.” A breath. “You ran toward danger while I hesitated. While trained professionals hesitated.” His voice roughens. “You did not stop to measure victory. You did not calculate survival. You saw someone who needed saving… and your body moved.” Silence. “That instinct cannot be taught.” Another beat. “It cannot be manufactured.” He steps closer. “That is what makes a hero.” A pause. “But.” His tone shifts, firm again. “What you did was reckless.” Izuku stiffens. “And to be frank, if I hadn’t been there, you would have died.” No softness. Just truth. “You pushed yourself to the absolute edge of what you can handle.” A breath. “And that edge is very small.” Izuku looks down. “So that’s why I’m gonna give you my Quirk.” Izuku’s head shoots up, meeting All Might’s steady gaze.  Silence. The hum of hospital machinery grows louder in the stillness. The curtain lifts gently in the wind. Izuku blinks. “…Eh?” All Might exhales slowly. “…I feel like I’m always giving exposition.” Izuku blinks. All Might gives a small, almost sheepish chuckle as he lowers himself into the chair beside the bed. It creaks under the shift of his weakened frame. Izuku is still staring at him. All Might clears his throat. “My Quirk, as everyone knows, is called One For All.” He gestures faintly with one thin hand. “The public believes the name refers to its purpose; that my strength exists to serve everyone. One hero… for all people.” A small pause. “That is true.” His eyes sharpen slightly. “But the name is also literal.” He leans back. “One For All is not a Quirk I was born with.” Silence. “It is a power that can be passed down.” Izuku’s breath catches. “It stockpiles strength. Physical power. And it grows stronger with each successor.” Another pause. “I inherited it from someone before me.” His voice lowers. “And I intend to pass it on.” His gaze locks onto Izuku. “To you.” Izuku stares at him. “Wait…”  He blinks once. “Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait—” He squeezes the bridge of his nose like he’s physically trying to hold his skull together. “You can’t just… drop a bombshell of a revelation like that.” He looks up at All Might, incredulous. “You just told me I can’t be a hero. That biology wins. That I should give up.” His voice rises slightly. “And now you’re saying your Quirk is some kind of… transferable power stockpile inheritance system?!” He gestures vaguely in frustration. “That’s not a minor detail!” All Might sits calmly. Izuku continues, words tripping over each other. “And what do you mean ‘pass it on’? You’re the number one hero! You can’t just— what, retire because you met a reckless middle schooler with a concussion?!” He pauses. Eyes narrow. “…Is this a joke?” Silence. All Might does not laugh. Izuku swallows. “…You’re serious.” Izuku takes a deep exhale.  “…You said you weren’t born with One For All.” All Might stills. He looks at him properly now.  “Does that mean…” His voice almost falters. “…you were quirkless?” A beat. “…Like me?” Silence settles between them. All Might doesn’t dodge the question. He doesn’t look away. “…Yes.” Just that. Izuku’s breath catches. All Might exhales softly. “I was born without a Quirk.” Another pause. “And someone chose me.” Izuku leans back against his pillow slowly. “…Ah.” He stares at the ceiling. “So you lied to me.” All Might’s brow furrows slightly. “I did not lie to you.” Izuku looks at him again. “You told me someone without power can’t be a hero.” A pause. “And you were just like me.” The words aren’t shouted. They’re quieter. Sharper. All Might holds his gaze. “Yes.” No flinching. “I was born quirkless.” Another breath. “And I still stand by what I told you.” Izuku’s jaw tightens. “You cannot be a hero without power.” Silence. “All I had… was someone willing to give me that power.” His eyes sharpen slightly. “And I am offering you the same chance.” Izuku scoffs softly. “You’re such a hypocrite…” It isn’t loud. It’s almost exhausted. All Might doesn’t react immediately. Izuku turns his head toward the window. “You tell me biology decides everything.” A small breath. “You tell me effort isn’t enough.” His fingers tighten in the sheets. “And then you tell me you were quirkless too. That someone chose you.” He looks back at him. “So what is it?” His voice rises slightly. “Was it fate? Luck? Charity?” A beat. “Or did someone just believe in you?” Silence. All Might studies him carefully. “It was all of those things,” he says quietly. “And none of them.” He leans forward slightly. “My predecessor did not choose me because I was quirkless.” A pause. “She chose me because I ran.” The air shifts. “Just like you.” “…Fine.” Izuku doesn’t look at him first. All Might raises a brow. Izuku keeps his gaze steady on All Might. “I’ll take it.” A breath. “I’ll take One For All.” He swallows, but his voice doesn’t waver. “Not because I need it to prove to you that I can become a hero.” The words are pointed. “But because I already am one.” Silence stretches. “This just means I get to do more.”  Izuku doesn’t realize his back is straighter. All Might blinks. “…Oh.” He scratches the back of his head awkwardly. “Okay, to be completely honest… I was expecting a bit more panic.” Izuku stares at him. “I thought you’d be in shock, demand time to think it over. I was gonna give you a day, maybe two…” A small sheepish smile creeps onto his face. “But…” He straightens slightly. “I suppose I do have good instincts when choosing a successor.” Izuku huffs faintly. All Might’s smile softens. “Still… this isn’t something to accept lightly.” A pause. His eyes sharpen. “Once you inherit it… there is no turning back. This is a lonely path filled with suffering and responsibility.” All Might stands slowly. “So, Midoriya Izuku…” His shadow stretches slightly across the hospital floor. “Are you truly prepared to inherit One For All… and all the responsibility that comes with it?” Izuku swallows. This is it. The dream he buried. The dream he tore off his walls. Suffering? Loneliness? Responsibility?  He’s already dealt with two. “…Yes.” It’s quiet. But certain. All Might pauses, closing his eyes.  He opens them, nods once. “Good.” A beat. “Not yet.” He immediately sits back down. Izuku blinks. “…Eh?” All Might gestures vaguely at the hospital bed. “What? Did you think I was going to hand over my power right now?” He jabs an accusatory finger at him. “You’re hospitalized, for crissake!” Izuku stares. All Might retracts his finger, gives a huff. “I am your mentor now, which means I will not be encouraging your reckless self-destruction.” A small pause. “You will train.” His eyes sharpen slightly. “You will build a body capable of holding this power.” He leans forward. “Because if I gave it to you as you are now… it would destroy you.” All Might leans back and crosses his arms.  “Now, how long until you recover?” Izuku blinks. He glances down at the bandages around his ribs. “They said a few weeks for the fractures. Bruising sooner. I’ll be fine.”  All Might narrows his eyes slightly. “Did they give you an exact number?” Izuku hesitates. “…Three.” All Might exhales slowly. “…Great.” Not triumphant. Not impressed. Just calculating. “We don’t have much time.” Izuku looks up. “The U.A. entrance exam is in ten months.” Izuku looks surprised. “U.A…?”  All Might nods. “The pinnacle of hero education. I ain’t gonna go cheap on you, kid... If you are to inherit One For All, your body must be ready before then.” Izuku stiffens slightly. “Ten months?” he repeats. All Might nods. “You’ve got courage. You have instinct.” His eyes narrow just a little. “But your body is weak. We start the moment you are medically cleared.” He stands again, this time without theatrics. “I will turn you into someone who can bear this power. Or it will tear you apart.” All Might exhales and glances toward the small table beside the bed. There’s a neatly packed bag. A thermos. Extra clothes. A container of cut fruit wrapped carefully in plastic. He stares at it for a second. “…Hm.” Before Izuku can react, All Might reaches over and lifts the container. Izuku squints. “…That’s mine.” All Might peels back the plastic with casual boldness. “You’ll need proper nutrition if you intend to survive my training, kid.” He pops a slice of apple into his mouth. Izuku watches, offended. “You didn’t even ask.” All Might chews thoughtfully. “I’m your mentor now.” He grins. “This falls under operational authority.” He offers the container. Izuku hesitates. “…You just coughed blood five minutes ago.” All Might pauses mid-motion. “…Just eat the damn fruit.” He hands him a slice. They sit there for a moment. Quiet. Eating fruit in a hospital room like this isn’t a legacy transfer scene. It’s almost normal. Izuku stares at the apple slice in his hand. “…Shouldn’t I tell my mom?” All Might stiffens, pausing as a slice of fruit was about to enter his mouth. He looks to Izuku.  Izuku rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “I mean… this is kind of a life-altering decision. And technically I’m under her guardianship…” Silence settles between them. They both inhale at the same time. All Might speaks first. “We’ll get to that.” At the exact same moment, Izuku mutters— “Yeah, we’ll get to that, it’s probably for the best…” They pause. Blink. Izuku looks mildly horrified at himself. All Might clears his throat. “…Yeah, I would prefer not to be arrested.” Izuku snorts despite himself. All Might chuckles. They continue eating fruit with Izuku’s notebook resting on his lap. His fingers curl slowly around the edge of it.