MHA Rewrite: Plus Ultra

White. The ceiling comes into focus slowly. A heavy exhaustion settles over his body. Izuku blinks. He sighs. The nurse's office. Third time already... A voice cuts in from the side. "...Ah. You're awake." Aizawa sits beside the bed, wrapped in his capture weapon, eyes half-lidded. Watching him. Izuku blinks, staring at the ceiling. "...Aizawa-sensei...?" He shifts slightly, his body heavy. "...I fainted...?" A brief pause. "...What was the result of All Might-sensei's exercise?" Another beat. "...Did I pass?" A brief silence. Aizawa doesn't respond. He just watches him. Izuku's eyes shift slightly. "...Where's Bakugo?" Another pause. "...Is he okay?" Aizawa sighs. "...So you're not completely detached." He stands, stepping toward the bed. Izuku gulps. But he doesn't look away. "Your first question was whether you passed." His eyes narrow slightly. "Not about your teammate. Not about your opponent." A beat. "About the result." Silence. "Tell me something, Midoriya." His voice stays flat. "What was your plan if Iida didn't hesitate?" No answer. Aizawa continues. "If he didn't let go... what then?" A pause. "Would you have broken all ten?" The room feels smaller. "And after that?" Another beat. "What do you do when the next person doesn't stop?" Izuku's throat feels dry. "I knew Iida-kun would stop, sensei... he wouldn't have let me go that far." Aizawa exhales quietly. "So you based your plan on who you think Iida is. After knowing him for, what—two days? Is that enough for you to know a person?" His gaze sharpens. "That's not strategy. That's a gamble—and you gambled with your teammate's safety." Izuku flinches. It's true... I was so confident in Bakugo's arrogance, I completely sidelined the possibility that somehow Iida could get him to cooperate— His fist tightens on his lap. ...and Uraraka paid for it...! Aizawa doesn't let up. "And if you were wrong?" A brief silence. "If Iida had committed to his role—" A slight tilt of his head. "—or if he'd been a real villain... what then, Midoriya?" Izuku looks down. I don't have an answer... If Iida had been a real villain—or someone I didn't know— His fingers tighten. Then... what would I have done? Wait for backup...? But there wasn't any. Taking another villain hostage... that's a gamble too. I wouldn't know if they'd care— His breath catches. Aizawa-sensei is testing me... A brief pause. —and I'm failing! Aizawa watches him in silence. "...There isn't an answer." Izuku's eyes widen. He looks up at him. "These situations don't play out cleanly in real life." His gaze stays on him. "There's no textbook, word-for-word version of a crime. You can't predict everything." Another beat. He raises a brow. "...Unless that's part of your Quirk." Aizawa exhales and sits back down. "From the entrance exam... to your Quirk Aptitude Test... to this." A brief pause. "Your problem, Midoriya, has never been whether your plan is bad." His eyes narrow slightly. "It's your limit." Another beat. "And how far you're willing to go." Aizawa watches him. "Why didn't you take the loss?" Izuku's gaze doesn't waver. "...It wasn't about winning or losing." A brief pause. "It was about saving Uraraka." Aizawa barely reacts. “No.” Izuku furrows his brows. “You already told me you knew Iida wouldn’t hurt her.” Aizawa crosses his arms. “Try again.” A brief pause. “The real reason. Not the answer that sounds heroic.” Izuku’s eyes widen slightly. He looks down, frowning. Aizawa stares at him a moment longer. Izuku tightens his hand slowly. “…I couldn’t accept it. I couldn’t just stand there and take it. I’m never going to be powerless again.” He looks up at Aizawa. His eyes harden. “Never again.” Aizawa narrows his eyes slightly. This kid… He’s talking like he’d rather chew off his own foot than stay chained. Anything but accept surrender. In hero work, that is both admirable… …and suicidal. What exactly happened to him…? Aizawa stands, exhaling. "That’s not an answer that reassures me, Midoriya... Your priority is to learn your limits. If you don't—" His gaze sharpens. "—you'll end up hurting yourself. And I don't mean just physically." His eyes narrow slightly. "Decisions like that stay with you." A beat. "We're not invincible, Midoriya. We're human. And if you push too far..." His voice lowers. "...someone ends up dead." He flicks his fingers lightly against Izuku's forehead. "Oof—!" "Got that?" Izuku nods without hesitation. "Yes, Aizawa-sensei." He bows his head. "Thank you." Aizawa gives a small nod. He moves to the corner, retrieving his sleeping bag. From it, he pulls out a jelly drink and tosses it lightly onto the bed. "Here. Last one." Izuku catches it. "Ah—thank you!" He bows again. Aizawa slings the sleeping bag over his shoulder. "I'll see you tomorrow." A brief pause. "And remember, Midoriya—learn your limits." Another beat. "You got your result." His gaze lingers for a moment. "Don't confuse that with it being the right move." He turns and exits. The door slides shut. Silence. Izuku looks down at the drink in his hand. Aizawa-sensei's right... His fingers tighten slightly. My limit is too small. A faint image— Uraraka in Iida's grasp. Struggling. "Deku!" His grip tightens. I couldn't guarantee her safety. I couldn’t control the situation. Another memory surfaces— Toshinori's voice. "You pushed yourself to the absolute edge of what you can handle." "And that edge is very small." Izuku's hand clenches. I can’t afford to be helpless… People are counting on me... A slow breath. Then… I need to expand my limit. ... Scene: Empty Classroom Recovery Girl's voice cuts through the room. "—It's the second day, for heaven's sake!" Toshinori sits at his desk in his gaunt form, shoulders slightly hunched, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else. "You're lucky he wasn't completely drained!" She points her cane at him. "And the damage he did to that boy—what were you thinking, letting it go that far?!" Toshinori winces slightly. "Honestly, Yagi-san, as the Symbol of Peace, you can't just—" His thoughts begin to drift. Ahh... I want to go home... I still have to feed Meow Might... Recovery Girl's voice snaps back in. "—You can't play favorites just because you handed your power to him!" Toshinori lifts his hands slightly, trying to placate her. "I understand, Shuzenji-sensei. And believe me, I'm not playing favorites." A brief pause. "The reason I let the exercise go that far was—" The door slides open. "Good afternoon, Recovery Girl-sensei! All Might-sensei!" Nezu stands at the doorway, smiling. "All Might-sensei, would you mind coming to my office?" Toshinori stiffens. "...Of course." A faint shudder runs through him. Behind him, Recovery Girl smirks. I really wanna go home...! ... Scene: Classroom The next day... Things were different. Izuku sits in his usual seat. Iida is seated elsewhere. Uraraka is still in the same row— But not beside him. She doesn't look his way. Izuku's gaze shifts. Bakugo sits at his desk. Posture straight. Eyes forward. Focused on the teacher. No expression. No anger. No reaction. Nothing. Izuku looks away. Aizawa scratches the back of his head. "About yesterday." A brief pause. "Some of you found it unpleasant." His eyes half-lid. "Get used to it. Hero work doesn't stop at the part they show on TV." Silence. "If it's bothering you—go see Hound Dog. He's the school counselor." Another beat. "Even if it's not—" His gaze drifts across the class. "Go anyway. Figure out where your head's at." A pause. "...And don't mistake needing help for weakness." Izuku glances at Uraraka. She sits stiffly in her seat, shoulders slightly hunched. Her hands are clenched in her lap. She isn't looking at anyone. Not him. Her gaze stays fixed on her desk. Izuku watches her for a moment, concern tightening his chest. She's not weak... A brief pause. She just needs experience. ... I tried talking to Iida earlier... Izuku steps through the school gates. Ahead, Iida walks toward the building. "Iida-kun!" Izuku jogs up to him. Iida stops. But doesn't turn. A brief pause. He adjusts his glasses. "...I would ask that you refrain from using '-kun,' Midoriya." Izuku freezes. Iida says nothing more. He resumes walking. Izuku stands there, stunned. He frowns. Too rule-bound... And during lunch... Izuku picks up his tray. He scans the cafeteria. There— His usual table. Mina, Kaminari, Jiro, Kirishima, Sato, Momo, Asui, Hagakure. He walks toward them. Kirishima looks up first. His expression hardens. "Hey." Izuku slows. "Get outta here." Izuku freezes. Mina immediately smacks Kirishima's shoulder. "Kirishima!" He clicks his tongue, not looking away. Izuku's gaze drifts across the table. No one meets his eyes. Kaminari shifts awkwardly. Jiro raises a brow. Momo's expression tightens. Asui watches quietly. Hagakure's finger twirls her hair (presumably) nervously. Mina gives him a small, apologetic smile. Izuku lowers his gaze. "...Sorry." He turns. And walks away. A few steps later— He sits at an empty table. Alone. A few students at nearby tables glance over. Whispers. "...That's him." "Isn't he the one who destroyed that giant robot during the entrance exam?" "Did you hear what he did?" "...He broke his fingers, right?" "Scary..." Izuku keeps eating. Like he doesn't hear it. His grip tightens slightly around his chopsticks. It was just a miscalculation... A brief pause. Then, a flick to the forehead. Izuku flinches. "Ah—" He looks up at Mina. She smirks, looking at his confused expression, and plops herself next to him, placing her tray on the table. Mina props her head against her arm, still smirking. "You done mess up, huh?" Izuku gives a small, sheepish smile. "Yeah..." Mina's expression brightens. Another presence. "Midoriya-san..." Momo stands beside the table. Her expression softens with concern. She bows. "I'm sorry." Izuku blinks, caught off guard. "Huh? Why are you apologizing, Yaoyorozu-san?" She takes a seat across from him. "I tried speaking with everyone earlier..." A brief pause. "They're... unsettled." Her brows knit slightly. "But I believe, with time, things will return to normal." Mina grins. "It's true! Just gotta get over you casually torturing a classmate first." She winks. "Give it a day." Izuku smiles faintly at Mina. Then looks at Momo. "It's okay, Yaoyorozu-san." His eyes lower. "I know what I did was wrong..." A small breath. "I shouldn't have needed to go that far." Momo watches him quietly. "...Not everyone believes that." Izuku looks up. She hesitates, choosing her words carefully. "It's not that they think you were wrong, necessarily..." A beat— A chair scrapes. Sero drops into the seat beside Izuku, grinning. "Just way too intense." Mineta hovers nearby, hands on his hips. Behind him, Sato balances several trays in his arms, while Ojiro stands beside him, scratching his head. "That's underestimating it!" Mineta blurts. "That was brutal!" Ojiro lets out a sheepish chuckle. "Yeah... it was a bit much..." A chair scrapes. Tokoyami sits down at the table. "...There is a darkness within every man." His eyes close. "What matters... is whether one is consumed by it." Mineta points at Tokoyami. "You said that already!" Tokoyami ignores him, nodding sagely to himself. Aoyama takes a seat beside Izuku, a bright grin on his face. "You seem to have a flair for drama, mon ami!" He places a hand over his chest. "Just like moi!" Koda quietly takes a seat at the edge of the table. He hesitates for a moment, like he isn't sure he's allowed to be there. Izuku picks up his chopsticks. A small smile forms. "...Thanks." Momo returns the smile, gentle and reassuring. He begins eating. Around him, the conversation continues— Voices overlapping. Debating. Arguing. Some defending him. Some still unsure. The noise fills the space. But it doesn't quite reach him. Izuku's gaze shifts. Across the room— Todoroki sits alone. Silent. Distant. For a brief moment— Their eyes meet. Todoroki doesn't react. He looks away. Izuku's smile fades, just slightly. ... I didn't see Toshinori-san today. The classroom hums with its usual chatter. The door slides open. Aizawa steps in. Sleeping bag. Same tired eyes. The noise dies down. "I'll be taking over today's hero class." A few students glance at each other. ...He's probably in trouble. Aizawa drops his bag beside the desk. "Open your notebooks. Today isn't practical. It's judgment." A few groans. He ignores them. "You'll be studying use-of-force protocols. When escalation is justified. And when it isn't." His gaze sweeps the room. "No two situations are the same. There's no script." A brief beat. "You decide." Several students glance toward Izuku. He shudders, shoulders tensing as he cringes slightly in his seat. A lesson courtesy of me... ... We went over theory. It made sense. And just like that, the day ended—with a promise that tomorrow, we'd return to Ground Beta. This time under Aizawa-sensei's watch. After school, Izuku walks out of the building, checking his watch. Maybe I can get Toshinori-san to train me today... "Midoriya-kun!" He stops and turns. Uraraka stands a short distance away. Still. Izuku tilts his head slightly. "...Uraraka?" Her hands tremble at her sides. Then—she clenches them. "I'll get stronger!" Her voice shakes—but she forces it steady. "I won't put you in that situation again!" She steps forward and punches his shoulder. Not hard. Just enough. "And next time—" A brief pause. "I'll be the one saving you!" Before he can respond— She runs off. Izuku watches her retreating figure, his surprise lingering. Then, he smiles. She just needs experience... ... Scene—Bar Jazzy music drifts lazily through the room. Dim lights. Empty tables. No one here— Except three. At the counter— One lounges in his seat, a newspaper spread open in his hands. Hands. Too many. They cling to him—resting on his shoulders, gripping his arms, curling around his neck like they belong there. One covers his face. Firm. Its fingers stretch across his features, obscuring everything but a narrow gap—just enough for a single eye to peer through. Watching. The skin doesn't match. Different sizes. Different shapes. Like they were taken. And kept. The newspaper rustles. Behind the counter— A tall figure stands in a perfectly fitted suit. Immaculate. Pressed. Not a wrinkle out of place. Where a head should be— There is only darkness. A dense, shifting mist contained within a metallic collar, faint light flickering deep inside like embers buried in smoke. No face. No eyes. And yet— A glass turns slowly in his hand as he polishes it, movements precise. Controlled. Effortless. On the floor nearby— A hulking shape sits hunched. Too large. Too still. Exposed muscle. Warped flesh. A head that looks unfinished. It breathes. Heavy. Wet. The newspaper lowers. The man tilts his head slightly. The hand over his face shifts with the motion, dragging faintly across his skin. A grin forms beneath it. "You see this?" He taps the page. "All Might... teaching at U.A." A quiet cackle slips out of him. "Isn't that hilarious?" The figure behind the counter doesn't respond. The glass keeps turning. The man leans forward slightly. The hands on his body tighten—just a little. "Hey..." A pause. "You know what would be really hilarious?" On the floor— The creature shifts. A low, distorted sound leaks from it. The man's grin widens. "If All Might..." A beat. "...is dead." Silence. The music doesn't stop. Behind the counter— The glass pauses. Just for a moment. Then resumes. The mist stirs. Barely. The creature's breathing fills the room. Slow. Heavy. Waiting. The man cackles.