Knock. Knock. Knock.
"Izumi, it's four-fifteen. Wake up."
His mother's voice came from the other side of the door, calm and steady.
Izumi stirred, half-buried under his blanket. He blinked a few times before exhaling softly.
Lightning crackled faintly across his skin for just an instant. It looked more like a reflex than a choice.
The drowsiness vanished immediately.
Aoi's voice called again.
"Izumi, are you awake?"
"Yes, Mom. I'm up," he answered, his voice still rough from sleep.
"Good. Freshen up, then come to the kitchen. Eat something before you go to training. I've prepared some food for you."
"Got it."
He sat up on his bed and climbed out a moment later. He made his way to the washroom, washed his face and hands, brushed his teeth, and straightened his hair before tying it into a loose half-bun.
After finishing, he walked into his closet and changed into his training clothes — a fitted black compression shirt, grey shorts with tight leggings underneath, and a light grey bomber jacket. Simple, light, and practical.
Once he was done, he walked back into his room, dusted off the bedsheets, folded the blanket, and arranged the pillows neatly back in place.
He grabbed his phone from the desk, slipped on his sandals, then turned once more to glance at the room before nodding and leaving.
After a minute of walking through the quiet hallway, he reached the kitchen.
His mother was there, finishing her preparations. On the counter were a few lunchboxes neatly packed with grilled chicken, rice, and vegetables among other things — and a small bowl of oats, nuts, seeds with honey and a scoop of protein powder, just enough for a quick breakfast before training.
"Morning," Izumi said as he walked up to the counter.
"Good morning," Aoi replied, still focused on preparing his bowl. "Eat this before you head out. The rest is for later."
Izumi nodded, picking up the spoon in the bowl.
"I'll be leaving for the training grounds after this. I have to get things ready for Ayaka's session today. She was pestering me all day yesterday about improving her combat style."
Aoi says as she finishes setting the lids on the lunchboxes, rinsed her hands, and dried them with a paper towel.
"That girl never runs out of energy. She gets it from you."
Izumi sighed. "I don't remember ever being that loud."
She smiled faintly, walked over, and placed her hand on his head for a second before leaning in and kissing the top of it.
"Eat properly," she said as she grabbed her coat from the rack.
Aoi slipped on her coat and made her way toward the exit.
"I've already set your training bag near the shoe section," she said over her shoulder. "You'll find it by the corner."
"Got it," Izumi replied.
"I'll see you after training," her voice came again — this time from the hallway, fading as she disappeared from view.
"Uh-huh."
"Bye," came her faint reply from a distance.
Izumi finished the last bite of his food, set the bowl in the sink, and picked up the packed lunchbox bag, slung it onto his shoulder and made his way to the entrance.
The small room near the doorway was neatly arranged, lined with shelves and cubbies.
He walked over to his section and picked a cubicle, opening it to grab a pair of shoes.
Carrying them to the bench in the middle of the room, he sat down and slipped them on — pink with faint black accents along the sole and heel, a gift from Ayaka.
His training bag sat against the wall, right where his mother had said it would be.
He picked it up and stepped outside.
The air hit him immediately — cool, crisp, and still carrying the faint chill of dawn. The sky was a muted grey blue, the kind that sat between night and morning. The estate grounds stretched wide before him, the faint outlines of trees and buildings visible in the dim light.
He took a slow breath, letting the air fill his lungs, then exhaled softly.
A second later, he vanished.
Lightning flashed across the yard, leaving a faint crackling echo in the air. In less than a heartbeat, Izumi reappeared near one of the far training zones — a stretch of land filled with dome-shaped buildings, each labelled and sealed with reinforced metal panels.
He moved again, this time stopping in front of one marked Training Dome 4.
The moment he stepped inside, the interior lights flickered on.
A wide metal hall stretched before him, lined with adaptive training walls and reinforced flooring. The faint hum of machinery filled the space as the system activated.
He walked to the side where a row of benches and locker stood, setting his bag down on one of them. Pulling out his phone, he checked the time.
[4:51 AM]
"There's around four hours before the entrance exam starts," he muttered.
He placed the phone beside the bag, slipped off his jacket, and began stretching. The hall was silent except for the faint sound of his breathing and the creak of his movements.
The place was massive — a blend of advanced technology and traditional structure. From the walls to the ceiling, everything was reinforced to withstand high-impact training.
Izumi walked toward the centre of the dome, still stretching his shoulders and legs as he moved.
As he approached, the floor plates in the middle hissed open, and a pillar rose smoothly from the ground. By the time he reached it, it had already locked in place.
A grey chest plate rested on top. Izumi picked it up and fixed it onto his chest. It locked into his sternum with a sharp metallic click. A pulse ran through it, syncing to his heartbeat.
A mechanical voice echoed throughout the dome.
[Biometric link established. Welcome, Izumi Adachi.]
He smiled faintly.
"Hello, AURA. Begin my training schedule."
[Neural synchronization: 59.8%. Beginning session.]
Blue light pulsed across the dome's inner walls, forming rings of faint holographic data — vitals, sync levels, energy output — circling the training area. The air grew denser, humming with charge.
"Start with the velocity trial. Same calibration as yesterday."
[Confirmed. Loading Velocity Trial C.]
The floor panels shifted and rearranged with mechanical precision. The dome's surface transformed into a wide circular track, gleaming like brushed steel before parts of it morphed into sand, gravel, and shallow water — each section built for resistance variation.
Izumi finished stretching, rolled his neck, and lowered his stance. Lightning crawled down his arms and legs in thin, controlled arcs. The faint hum of ionizers filled the space.
[Three… two… one—launch.]
He pushed off.
The floor groaned under his first step, then vanished behind him. Air folded away, leaving a roaring tunnel in his wake. Every stride burst with white-blue light, scattering sparks across the walls.
[Velocity Mach 4.3… 5.9… 6.7. Neural sync 61.7. Body strain 78.4%.]
His breathing stayed calm, his rhythm even. The world blurred into streaks of light and distorted sound. The dome curved endlessly ahead, a ring of motion and energy.
Minutes passed. Then half an hour. Then more.
Sweat rolled down his jawline, evaporating before it could fall. His body burned, the strain clean and sharp — familiar.
[Sustained Mach 4.7 for 52 minutes. Neural sync 63.2. Body strain 89.1%.]
He clenched his teeth and pushed harder. Lightning flared brighter, folding tighter around him. The dome's reinforced walls trembled under the pressure as he broke through the next barrier.
[Mach 7.8 reached. Neural sync 64.9. Critical strain warning.]
He stopped abruptly.
Air snapped, forming a shock ring that pushed a wave of dust outward. He exhaled slowly, hands resting on his hips, his pulse steady but heavy.
[Peak Mach 7.89. Safe sustained Mach 4.7. Recommended gradual increase with age progression or body reinforcement.]
Izumi nodded slightly. "Got it. Guess progress is going to be slow for a few years."
The lightning dancing around his body flickered out. The faint marks glowing beneath his skin faded, replaced by rising steam.
He walked a few slow laps around the track, letting his body cool before settling onto the bench near the resting space.
The cooling fans activated, their low hum filling the silence. The temperature in the dome dropped, misting the glass edges with thin condensation.
He picked up the smoothie from his bag — a protein-rich recovery shake blended with oats and berries — and took a sip, letting the chill calm his breathing.
Izumi grabbed a towel, drying the sweat from his face and neck before picking up his phone.
[5:57 AM]
A single notification sat on the screen — received five minutes ago.
A video message from Ayaka.
He raised an eyebrow and tapped it.
Ayaka's face appeared for half a second before the camera flipped, showing the training hall behind her.
Their mother, Aoi, stood in the distance in her grey-and-white training gear. Several large, reinforced dummies — each roughly double her size — were arranged in a wide arc.
Without taking a step, Aoi drew back her arm and threw a straight punch.
The first row of dummies didn't even budge.
But the middle ones — just a foot behind — imploded instantly, crushed inward as if struck by something massive and invisible.
She reset her stance and hit again.
Another cluster shattered cleanly through the centre.
The camera shook slightly as Ayaka struggled to follow the motion.
Then she spun it around to face herself, grinning from ear to ear.
"Yo! I'm going to learn how to punch like that!" she said, excitement spilling out of every word.
For anyone else, it was innocent enthusiasm.
For Izumi, sitting on the bench with a towel slung over his shoulder, that grin looked more like a declaration of war — the smile of a tiny tyrant preparing to cause problems.
A familiar voice cut through the background noise.
"Ayaka, what are you doing? Pay attention."
"I am paying attention—"
The video blurred mid-sentence.
When it refocused, Aoi was holding the phone, the camera now pointed at her face.
"You're recording videos? And who is this for?" She paused, squinting. "Izumi? Of course."
She turned slightly.
"It seems I'm not being harsh enough if you have time to play around during training."
The screen jolted — a quick blur of motion — and Ayaka appeared beside her mother.
Aoi's hand rested firmly on her head, patting her with that unique brand of "affection" only she could manage. Calm smile. Eyes that said otherwise.
"It seems Ayaka is planning on not walking on her own feet today," Aoi said evenly. "Your father and you can have breakfast without us. We have… extra lessons to get through."
Her smile remained soft.
"Bye."
The video cut off.
Izumi stared at the frozen thumbnail — Aoi's pleasant, motherly expression filling the screen.
For him, it was just his mother's normal smile.
For Ayaka… he could already imagine the suffering about to begin.
He shook his head, exhaling quietly.
"I guess she gets that smile from Mom."
He checked the time again.
[5:59 AM]
"Hm. All Might and Midoriya should be at the beach around now," he murmured, placing his phone back on the bench before standing up.
***
At the far end of the now-clean beach, waves rolled in quietly against the shore. The morning light stretched long across the sand, soft and pale.
All Might stood before a young man with messy green curls, posture straight but relaxed. The faint ocean breeze tugged at the edges of his long coat.
"Now, for your reward, Izuku Midoriya," he said, voice firm yet carrying a warmth beneath it.
Izuku snapped to attention. "Y-Yes, sir!"
All Might reached up, plucked a single strand of golden hair from his head, and held it between his fingers. The light caught it just right, making it shimmer.
"Someone once told me this," he said, gaze fixed on the strand. "There's a difference between being lucky… and being deserving."
He looked at Izuku.
"One is an accident—
…and the other is a reward.
Never confuse the two."
A small, genuine smile crossed his face.
"Take that to heart, young man. This gift… you earned it with your valiant effort."
Izuku's throat tightened. The sting in his eyes built slowly — the weight of every exhausting morning, every failure, every sleepless night collapsing into this moment.
All Might extended his hand, bringing the strand of hair right in front of Izuku's face.
His expression went completely flat.
The All Might extended his hand, holding out the strand of hair and brough it in front of Izuku's face. His expression completely deadpan or flat or whatever.
"Eat this."
"…Huh?"
Izuku froze, staring at the hair, his brain refusing to process what had just been said.
***
Izumi walked back toward the centre of the dome.
AURA's voice returned, steady and unfeeling.
[Shall we proceed with the next sequence?]
Izumi exhaled a calm breath.
"Yes. Start the combat projections."
The circular track sank back into the floor. Dozens of hard-light emitters extended from the dome's walls and ceiling, humming as they activated.
Blue outlines shimmered into existence — humanoid figures of varying builds and speeds, each one different. The system randomized their quirks every cycle.
[Combat Projection Trial A commencing.]