_2_

He began applying the ointment to his shoulder, letting out a faint groan with each touch.

Izuku wiped the remaining blood from his skin and released a long sigh. His body trembled slightly—not from pain, but from the anger boiling inside him.

It wasn't fleeting rage. It was a fire that only burned hotter with every memory, every look of contempt, and every opportunity stolen from him simply because he was born Quirkless.

Stepping out of the bathroom, he walked slowly toward his bed, pulled out the notebook hidden underneath it, and began flipping through the pages once again.

"Heroes... Villains... Two sides of the same coin"

He understood now—being a hero was just a lie sold to the masses. A tool used to manufacture false hope.

But villains?

They shattered that illusion. They proved the world wasn't as fair as people claimed.

His eyes stopped on a page he'd written months ago—an analysis of Bakugo's abilities.

He gripped his pen tightly and added a small note beneath the previous observations:

"His anger makes him reckless. He relies on brute force more than strategy. This can be exploited easily."

He looked up, staring into space for a few moments.

The decision was already made. But there was one thing he had to fix first.

He was physically weak—and that needed to change.

He stood up, opened his closet, and rummaged through his things for workout clothes.

If this was the beginning of a new path, then he had to grow stronger.

Grabbing his phone, he searched for the nearest 24-hour gym and decided to go the next morning.

Before heading to bed, he gave his room one last look—like it was the final time he'd ever see the old Izuku.

A bitter smile curved his lips.

"Goodbye, dreamer Izuku... Hello, survivor Izuku."

Downstairs, in the kitchen, Inko was washing the dishes from the dinner her son had skipped.

Worry gnawed at her. He had changed so much overnight—it was as if someone had replaced him with a stranger.

He wasn't acting like himself anymore.

She remembered the days when Izuku would come to her with every little problem, sharing his thoughts and dreams openly.

Now, he locked himself away in his room, as if an invisible wall stood between them.

As she scrubbed the plates, she sighed deeply, trying to push away the storm of thoughts swarming her mind.

"What's going on with him?" she whispered.

She could feel that something was tormenting him, and she wanted to help… she just didn't know how.

She paused, drying her hands on a kitchen towel, then made up her mind.

She would go talk to him. Maybe—just maybe—she could reach him.

Walking up the stairs quietly, she made her way to his door.

She hesitated for a moment, then knocked gently.

"Izuku, can I talk to you?" she asked softly.

On the other side, Izuku paused what he was doing and got up to open the door for his mother.

He forced a small smile, but it didn't fool her.

His eyes—once wide and hopeful—were now narrow and dim.

Dark circles framed his gaze, and Inko gently placed a hand on his cheek, worry written across her face.

"Are you okay?"

Izuku placed his hand over hers, trying to offer her some sense of calm, even as his insides twisted with conflict.

"I'm fine, Mom. There's no need to worry," he replied quietly.

But Inko wasn't convinced. Her eyes stayed locked on his, full of concern.

"You've changed so much lately, Izuku… You don't act like yourself, and you look so tired. Is something bothering you?"

Izuku let out a deep sigh.

"I'm just under a lot of pressure, Mom. There's a lot on my mind… but I'll be okay."

She knew there was more to it than he was saying, but she didn't want to push him. All she wanted was for him to be safe and happy.

"If you ever need to talk, or if you need anything at all, I'm always here for you, Izuku." she said gently.

He smiled at her.

"I know, Mom. Thank you for everything."

She squeezed his hand and whispered,

"Just remember—no matter what happens, I'll always be here to support you."

That quiet moment brought her a bit of comfort, though her heart still carried the weight of worry.

She left the room, gently leaving the door ajar—like a small doorway of hope left open, waiting for her son to return to himself.

Meanwhile, the Number One Hero sat burdened with guilt.

Nagging thoughts crept into his mind, questioning the harshness of his words.

Regret nipped at him—but he pushed it aside, convincing himself that this was the truth. There was no point giving Izuku hope built on lies.

Still, with each passing hour, those doubts multiplied.

Was it really right to tell the boy he had no future as a hero?

Was it fair to make him believe that no effort would ever be enough?

The questions started to weigh heavily on him.

It didn't sit right anymore.

And yet, every time he tried to reconsider, he ended up right back at the same conclusion:

The world decided who could be a hero and who couldn't—and there was no changing that.

He knew he needed to choose a successor—someone worthy of inheriting the symbol of peace.

But with each day that passed, the decision became harder.

Should he choose someone with overwhelming strength? Or someone with the true heart of a hero?

That's when Toshinori Yagi made his decision.

He would join the staff at U.A. High School—to find his successor.

The next morning, Izuku woke up early.

He took a hot shower and put on athletic clothes.

Before leaving the house, he left a note on the kitchen table to keep his mother from worrying:

– I'll be back before sunset –

He stepped out, using his phone to navigate toward the gym—every second mattered now.

Just a few steps away from the entrance, he realized something—he hadn't eaten breakfast.

Going back wasn't an option after coming this far. But he couldn't train on an empty stomach, either.

He turned toward a small restaurant to his right. It looked a bit dark inside, but he didn't have much choice.

He entered to find only a few customers scattered about.

He picked a table by the window and took a seat. A server approached, handing him a menu.

Izuku scanned it quickly—looking for something fast and filling.

He chose a breakfast platter with eggs, bread, and meat, and gave his order.

A few minutes later, his food arrived. It looked decent, and he ate quickly, determined to finish and get to the gym.

He stuffed the last bite of bread into his mouth, preparing to leave—when suddenly, someone sat down across from him.

Izuku remained calm, though inwardly annoyed by the uninvited company.

He forced a smile.

"Can I help you with something?"

The young man laughed from beneath his hood and said:

"No need to fake it, kid. If you really want to help me, you can start by ditching that crooked smile. I'd appreciate it."

Izuku narrowed his eyes, trying to place where he'd seen this annoying guy before.

"I feel like I've seen you somewhere… where?" he asked, ignoring the mockery.

A grin spread across the man's hidden face, wide enough to almost split his cheeks.

"Of course you did. You bumped into me last night and barely mumbled an apology like you were being chased!"

Izuku nodded in recognition and replied,

"I thought so."

The man raised an eyebrow.

"Thought what?"

"That my apology was too generous. I should've just ignored you and kept walking." Izuku muttered loud enough to be heard.

The man chuckled, his tone light and playful with a hint of sarcasm:

"Wow, harsh much, kid?"

Izuku kept his gaze steady and replied:

"The truth is always bitter. And I don't sugarcoat it."