The Other Midoriya

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The greatest miracle of life? Two boys holding hands in the womb? (Cue dry heaving.) Who even writes this garbage? Just the thought of it is enough to make me wish for a brain bleach Quirk. Let me make this crystal clear: I did not hold hands with Izuku in the womb. Hell, we were not even womb buddies. I would rather believe I crawled out of a trash pile than entertain that saccharine nonsense.

Anyway, let us get real. My name is Ryuu Midoriya. I share a last name with Izuku, sure. Same green hair, too. Oh, and the same mother—technically. We are both quirkless. But let me stop you right there. That is where the similarities end. I do not cry into my All Might pajamas every time the world kicks me in the balls. No, I kick back. Sometimes the world wins, but at least I get a shot in.

Now, back to the miracle of life. Let us paint you a picture: One boy is born. That boy is me. His entrance into the world? Pure carnage. Doctor says, "Congratulations, it's a boy!" and boom, my mom flatlines. Whoops. That's me, folks. The harbinger of doom straight out the gate. The universe took one look at me and said, "Yeah, this one? He is going to need therapy."

Lucky for me, the loving mother Inko Midoriya sees me next to Izuku and thinks, "Hey, which one is my son?" Then, to be sure, she gets us both. Nah, just joking—she pities my diapered ass and adopts me. Now she's stuck with two green-haired liabilities, one that cries like a busted faucet and one that screams "therapy patient" before he even hits kindergarten.

Growing up with Izuku? A mixed bag. He clung to All Might merch like it was a life raft while I experimented with dumb ways to gain a quirk. "Dumb" might be generous. One time, I shoved my hand into a socket to "shock" a quirk awake. All it gave me was a new nickname: Sparky the Dumbass. Izuku cried about it for an hour. I laughed through the pain.

Our childhood became a routine of me roasting Izuku, saving him from bullies, and occasionally getting into fights just for fun. Oh, and let us not forget Bakugo. That kid had the subtlety of a grenade and the personality to match. Every encounter with him was like trying to tame a feral explosion. I made it my mission to piss him off whenever I could.

Well, this is my story so far. Oh well, there are bullies in the school, but I have balls of steel. Nah, for real. I tried dipping my balls in mercury to gain superpowers once. Suffice it to say, it did not work. Spiders? Also a failure. I tried a few species—none of them friendly, all of them bitey, and exactly zero of them radioactive. Selfish little bastards.

Being quirkless, you have to get creative, you know? I have experimented with everything short of selling my soul to a villain—and even that is still on the table. Unlike Izuku, who tries to reason with bullies as if they are going to suddenly develop a conscience, I prefer a more hands-on approach. If someone takes a swing at me, I swing back. It does not matter if they are bigger, stronger, or even carrying a flamethrower—I am fighting until one of us drops. Me, it is me who drops.

Take today, for instance. Another round of "Who Can Ruin Ryuu's Day?" courtesy of three of my lovely classmates. It starts with the usual garbage. One of them shoves me into the lockers, trying to impress his buddies.

"What's up, greenie? No hero coming to save you?" The guy sneers, his breath reeking of cafeteria fish sticks. Honestly, I am more offended by his oral hygiene than his weak insult.

I push myself off the lockers, brushing imaginary dust off my jacket. "Wow, Jimbo, still recycling the same lame lines? What is next, calling me a 'wannabe hero'? Oh, wait, you did that last week."

His face twists in irritation. Perfect. Pissing people off is like my superpower. Too bad it does not unlock any real ones.

The second guy, some muscle-brained idiot who probably failed kindergarten twice, cracks his knuckles. "Think you're funny, Midoriya? Let's see you laugh when we—"

"Hold up," I interrupt, holding up a finger. "Before you finish that cliché threat, let me guess: You're going to beat me up, right? Because I'm quirkless? Super original. Really groundbreaking stuff."

"Shut up!" Jimbo lunges at me, fist cocked back. For a second, I consider countering. Then I remember how much I enjoy watching these idiots embarrass themselves. I sidestep, and his momentum sends him face-first into the lockers with a loud clang.

"Strike one," I say, smirking.

The muscle-brain grabs me by the collar, hoisting me up like I weigh nothing. "Think you're hot shit, huh?"

"Nah," I reply, deadpan. "I'm lukewarm at best."

He snarls and pulls his arm back for a punch. I grab his wrist with both hands and twist—not enough to break it, just enough to make him yelp and let go. As I drop back to my feet, I throw a quick jab at his gut. He stumbles back, wheezing.

"Strike two," I quip.

The third guy, who has been standing in the back pretending not to exist, finally decides to step in. "H-hey, man, let's just chill, okay?"

I raise an eyebrow at him. "Wow, a voice of reason? Did not expect that from the discount goon squad."

Jimbo, now red-faced and furious, charges at me again. I duck under his swing and sweep his legs out from under him. He crashes to the ground, groaning.

"And that's strike three. You're out."

The bell rings, cutting through the awkward silence of the hallway like a lifeline. "Oh, crap," I mutter, spotting a blonde inferno at the far end of the hall. Bakugo, in all his explosive glory, leans against a row of lockers, his trademark scowl already locked and loaded. Behind him, a pack of goons loiters like obedient lapdogs.

"Uh oh, homerun," I say under my breath, pivoting on my heel and making a break for it. The three losers I just dealt with? Yeah, they are his goons. If Bakugo catches wind of this, I am on the fast track to becoming a burnt marshmallow.

I bolt down the hallway, weaving between clusters of students like a parkour ninja. A couple of them shoot me weird looks, but I do not have time to care. Survival first, reputation second. I glance back to see Jimbo and his merry band of morons struggling to keep up, clutching their bruised egos and ribs.

I round a corner and nearly collide with a group of bastards. "Watch it!" one of them snaps, but I am already ducking past them, muttering a half-assed apology. The sounds of heavy footsteps and angry yelling fade behind me. Did I lose them?

Just as I start to slow down, a familiar voice growls, "Oi, Midoriya!"

My stomach drops. Great. Bakugo found me. I spin around, already bracing for the explosive assault.

"What the hell did you do this time?" Bakugo snarls, stomping toward me like a human grenade. His palms crackle with tiny explosions, and his expression promises violence. Classic Bakugo.

"Do?" I feign innocence, throwing my hands up. "Why do you always assume I did something?"

"Because you always do something, dumbass!" he barks, jabbing a finger at my chest. "You think I didn't see you running like your ass was on fire?"

I shrug, flashing my best shit-eating grin. "Is that what happens to you when you are constipated and sweat from your ass? Explode? Man, your mom must have a hard time cleaning your boxers."

Bakugo's eye twitches, and for a second, I swear I can see steam rising from his head like he's a human pressure cooker about to blow. His goons, who finally managed to catch up, look like they're debating whether to laugh or back away before the inevitable happens.

"What the hell did you just say, you little shit?" Bakugo growls, his hands already sparking.

"I mean, I get it. It must suck being Bakugo Katsuki, human firecracker. Can't even sit down without worrying your ass might spontaneously combust." I shrug again, tilting my head. "But hey, at least you're memorable, right? Who needs dignity when you've got kabooms?"

The hallway feels like it's holding its breath. Bakugo steps closer, explosions crackling in his palms. "You think you're funny, huh?"

"Not think, know. And judging by your face, I'm absolutely killing it," I fire back without missing a beat.

"You've got five seconds to shut your mouth before I blast it off your stupid face."

"Five seconds? Damn, I didn't know you could count that high," I say, smirking as I start casually backing away. He's practically foaming at the mouth now, but I know exactly how this game plays out. His ego won't let him take a cheap shot while I'm standing still—it's all about the chase for Bakugo.

As soon as his foot shifts forward, I take off down the hallway again, flipping him the bird over my shoulder. "Catch me if you can, Boom Boom Bitch!"

The sound of explosions fills the air as Bakugo gives chase, yelling obscenities that would make a sailor blush. His goons don't even bother keeping up this time—they just stand there, looking defeated. Honestly, I kind of feel bad for them. Hanging around Bakugo must be exhausting.

I dart around a corner, sliding across the floor like a bad action movie stuntman, and nearly wipe out into a janitor's cart. The janitor gives me a look that says, "I don't get paid enough for this shit," but I'm already gone before he can yell at me.

The chase goes on for what feels like forever, Bakugo's explosions echoing behind me like a particularly violent game of tag. Students scatter out of the way, some shouting in protest, others laughing at the spectacle. A few even cheer me on, because apparently, chaos is the school's favorite spectator sport.

Finally, I spot my chance: the classroom door is just ahead. I dive through it, slamming it shut behind me and leaning against it to catch my breath. The class stares at me like I've just walked in wearing a chicken suit, but I don't care. I made it. Victory tastes sweet, even if it's just temporary.

A second later, the door rattles as Bakugo pounds on it from the other side. "MIDORIYA, YOU DEADASS COWARD! OPEN THIS DOOR RIGHT NOW!"

"Sorry, can't hear you over the sound of my brilliance," I call back, wiping imaginary sweat from my brow. "Better luck next time, Boom Boom Boy."

The teacher walks in at that moment, giving me a look that's the tired blend of confusion and irritation. "Mr. Midoriya, care to explain why you're out of breath and why Mr. Bakugo is yelling in the hallway?"

I straighten up, putting on my most innocent face. "Uh, cardio? You know, fitness is important."

The teacher just sighs, rubbing their temples. "Take your seat, Ryuu."

I do as I'm told, plopping down in my usual spot next to Izuku, who's already got that worried look on his face. He leans in and whispers, "Ryuu, what did you do?"

"Nothing major," I whisper back with a grin. "Just reminded Bakugo why I'm his favorite person in the world."

Izuku groans, pinching the bridge of his nose. "One day, he's going to actually kill you."

"Yeah, but not today," I reply, leaning back in my chair like I haven't just risked my life for the sake of pissing off Bakugo. "Not today."

I mean, sure, technically, I almost die every day. But today? Today had flair. The kind of flair that says, "Why just die normally when you can do it with an audience of idiots and one raging human explosion?"

School ended, and I was just minding my own business, heading home like a model citizen. Well, "model" might be generous. More like "barely functioning menace to society." Anyway, I took the scenic route. Big mistake. Bakugo and his goons decided to pull a little ambush in an alley. I know, real original, right? What's next? Tying me to train tracks?

The alley smelled like piss and cheap cologne—because Bakugo's lackeys apparently thought Axe Body Spray was a substitute for soap. They cornered me like the gang of budget villains they were. Bakugo stepped forward, arms crossed, grinning like he just got handed front-row tickets to my funeral.

"Oi, Ryuu," he said, voice dripping with that usual condescension and misplaced superiority. "You think you're real funny, don't you?"

"Funny?" I smirked, hands in my pockets. "Nah, I'm a walking comedy special. A gift to the world, really. Speaking of gifts, did your mom ever stop sending those soggy, depression-riddled sandwiches in your lunchbox, or does she still pack them with a side of disappointment and a note that just says, 'I should've swallowed'?"

Boom Boom Boy's face twitched. Oh, yeah. That hit the sweet spot. His lackeys exchanged nervous glances, clearly questioning their life choices.

"Keep talking," Bakugo growled, stepping closer. His palms sparked, little explosions lighting up like a firework preview. "I'll blow that smug grin off your face."

"Blow me?" I raised an eyebrow. "Wow, Katsuki, I didn't know you felt that way. Listen, I'm flattered, but you're not my type. I prefer people who can manage their anger without resorting to property damage."

One of the goons, Jimbo—yes, that's what I've decided to call him too—tried to look tough. "You've got a death wish, Midoriya."

"Nah," I shot back, "I've just got standards, which is why I would never join your little fan club. What's the membership requirement? Dropping out of middle school and buying stock in fireworks?"

Bakugo didn't wait for the laugh track. He lunged, and I barely ducked in time, his fist slamming into the brick wall behind me. Bits of brick rained down, and the smell of burnt air filled the alley.

"You think this is a game, Ryuu?" he spat, sparks dancing on his hands.

"Game? Nah. This is a roast, and you're my best material."

But then it happened. A sharp, electric jolt shot through my head. I stumbled, blinking as a bright blue screen appeared out of nowhere, floating right in front of my face.

[SYSTEM ACTIVATED: WELCOME, PLAYER.]

What the—?

[NEW QUEST: ESCAPE BAKUGO'S FURY WITHOUT DYING. REWARD: 20 XP. FAILURE: HUMILIATION AND POSSIBLE HOSPITALIZATION.]

Was I hallucinating? Had Bakugo actually knocked a few screws loose?

"Oi, what's wrong with your face?" Bakugo snapped, clearly irritated that I wasn't giving him my full attention. "You scared or something?"

"Oh, no, Boom Boom," I said, waving my hand dismissively. "Just having an existential crisis. Don't mind me."

The screen flickered again.

[SKILL UNLOCKED: QUICKSTEP. USE IT TO AVOID GETTING BLASTED TO KINGDOM COME.]

Oh, this was too good. A sarcastic, game-like system in the middle of a life-threatening situation? Sure. Why not? I didn't have time to process the absurdity of it all. Bakugo was already winding up for another attack, his palms crackling like the world's angriest bug zapper.

And then I felt it—a strange energy buzzing under my skin. Quickstep? Fine. Let's see what this baby could do.

Bakugo's explosion shot toward me like a flaming middle finger, but my body moved before I could even think. One second, I was in his line of fire. The next, I was behind him, the alley spinning like someone hit the fast-forward button.

"Whoa," I said, stumbling to keep my balance. "Did I just teleport, or did Bakugo's aim somehow get worse?"

"WHAT THE HELL?!" Bakugo whirled around, eyes wide. He wasn't used to missing. His ego wasn't built for it. "How did you—?!"

"Magic," I said, grinning. "Oh wait, wrong novel."

Jimbo and the rest of the goon squad looked like they just seen a ghost. One of them muttered something about quirks awakening under stress, but I wasn't listening. I was too busy testing out my new ability.

I zipped around the alley, dodging Bakugo's increasingly erratic explosions. Each Quickstep felt like a shot of adrenaline straight to the brain—intense, disorienting, but effective.

[QUEST PROGRESS: 80%. KEEP IT UP, SMARTASS.]

"Is that all you've got, Boom Boom Boy?" I taunted, darting past him again. "Come on, I thought you were supposed to be the future Number One Hero! You're making this too easy!"

"SHUT UP!" Bakugo roared, hurling a massive explosion my way. It missed, of course, because I'm not an idiot.

By the time I Quickstepped behind him for the third time, he was fuming so hard I half-expected steam to shoot out of his ears.

[QUEST COMPLETE! REWARD: +20 XP.]

"Alright, kids," I said, hands on my hips. "Playtime's over. I would love to stick around and roast you some more, but I've got better things to do. Like, I don't know, anything else, really."

Before Bakugo could respond, I activated Quickstep one last time, zipping past his goons and out of the alley. Their shouts faded behind me as I sprinted toward the main street, my heart pounding like a drum solo.

Once I was sure I was safe, I leaned against a lamppost, trying to catch my breath. The blue screen popped up again, cheerful as ever.

[CONGRATULATIONS! YOU DIDN'T DIE! WANT A COOKIE?]

"Yeah, real funny," I muttered. "Who even programmed you?"

[WOULDN'T YOU LIKE TO KNOW?]

Oh, great. My sarcastic inner monologue had a voice now. This was going to be fun.

So, there I was, panting like I just sprinted the marathon from hell, leaning against a streetlamp and staring at a blue screen that had rudely decided to hijack my life.

I squinted at the glowing text, wiping the sweat off my forehead. "Alright, blue dude," I muttered. "So… are you my quirk, or some kind of cosmic prank? Because, baby, no matter what, I think I'm stuck with you. Might as well get cozy."

The System responded instantly, as if it had been waiting for the perfect moment to ruin my sanity.

[WELCOME, PLAYER. I AM THE LIMITLESS GROWTH SYSTEM. NO, I AM NOT A QUIRK. YES, YOU ARE STUCK WITH ME. AND NO, I DON'T DO REFUNDS.]

"Figures," I snorted, pulling myself upright. "Alright, Limitless Growth System. What's the deal? Stats, skills, items? Let's see the goods."

Another screen popped up, this one more detailed. My stats were plastered across it like some RPG character sheet.

Stats

Strength (STR): 8

Agility (AGI): 10

Intelligence (INT): 14

Charisma (CHA): 12

Luck (LCK): 1

I blinked at the numbers. "Wait, my Luck is a one? A one? That's like… comically bad. Are you trying to tell me I'm the unluckiest bastard alive?"

[CORRECT. BUT LOOK ON THE BRIGHT SIDE—AT LEAST YOU'RE SELF-AWARE.]

I stared at the screen, deadpan. "Oh, great. My System comes with a personality. Because that's exactly what I needed—more sass in my life."

Ignoring its next snarky comment, I flicked to the Skills section. Three entries caught my eye:

[Starting Skills

Mockery (Passive): Distracts opponents with taunts. Reduces their focus by 20%.

Analyze (Utility): Reveals basic information about targets, like stats or quirks and shit.

Quickstep (Combat): Short-range dash. Cooldown: A few seconds.]

I grinned. "Mockery. Yeah, that tracks. It's like this System was custom-built for me."

[CORRECT AGAIN. I AM DESIGNED TO ENHANCE YOUR NATURAL TALENTS—INSULTS, RUNNING AWAY, AND MAKING BAD LIFE CHOICES.]

"Oh, shut up," I muttered, scrolling past the skills. There was a section labeled "Quests," and I tapped it out of curiosity.

[Completed Quests:

Escape Bakugo's Fury (Complete): Reward: +20 XP.]

"XP, huh?" I rubbed my chin. "What does that even do?"

[XP IS USED TO LEVEL UP. LEVELING UP INCREASES YOUR STATS AND UNLOCKS NEW SKILLS. CURRENT LEVEL: 1. XP TO NEXT LEVEL: 100.]

"Alright, I'm starting to get it." I stepped away from the lamppost, still eying the screen. "Stats go up, I get stronger, and I unlock more bullshit to annoy Bakugo with. Got it."

The System added a new message, because apparently, it couldn't shut up for five seconds:

[PRO TIP: LUCK IS LOW. SUGGESTED STRATEGY: AVOID GAMBLING, LIGHTNING STORMS, AND PEOPLE NAMED KATSUKI BAKUGO.]

"Thanks for the life advice, Mom," I shot back. Then I paused, an idea forming in my head. "Wait. Can I increase my Luck? You know, so my life doesn't feel like a bad sitcom?"

[YES. GAIN XP, COMPLETE QUESTS, AND PRAY TO WHATEVER DEITY YOU BELIEVE IN. GOOD LUCK. OH WAIT—NEVER MIND.]

I groaned, swiping the screen away. "Alright, what about inventory? Do I have, like, a stash of magical potions or something?"

Another window appeared, showing a sad, empty grid with the words "NO ITEMS" blinking mockingly in the middle.

"Cool," I muttered. "Broke in real life, broke in-game. This is just perfect."

[CHEER UP. AT LEAST YOU'VE GOT ME.]

"Yeah, because that's a consolation prize."

I sighed, stuffing my hands into my pockets and heading toward home. The streets were quieter now, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows. Every so often, I glanced at the blue screen hovering just at the edge of my vision. It wasn't going anywhere, that much was clear.

"So, System," I said after a moment. "If you're here to help me 'grow' or whatever, what's the plan? Any quests I should know about?"

[GENERATING QUEST…]

[NEW QUEST: PUNCH A VILLAIN AND SURVIVE. REWARD: +100 XP. BONUS REWARD: RESPECT FROM CLASSMATES.]

I stopped dead in my tracks. "Are you insane? Punch a villain? Are you trying to get me killed on day one?"

[RELAX. IT'S JUST A SUGGESTION. BUT HEY, IF YOU'RE TOO CHICKEN, I CAN ALWAYS SCALE IT DOWN TO SOMETHING EASIER. LIKE HELPING AN OLD LADY CROSS THE STREET.]

I glared at the screen. "You're lucky you're not corporeal, or I would punch you."

[THAT WOULD BE AN IMPRESSIVE DISPLAY OF STRENGTH—IF YOU HAD ANY.]

I groaned again, trudging forward. This was my life now, apparently: a walking, talking roast session with a built-in progress bar. And the worst part? I couldn't even mute it.

Still, as annoying as it was, I had to admit… this System thing had potential. If I played it right, maybe—just maybe—I could actually keep up with the quirked world around me.

"Alright, System," I said, a grin spreading across my face. "You and me? Let's do this. But if you sass me one more time, I'm uninstalling you."

[GOOD LUCK WITH THAT, SMARTASS.]