My Hero Academia: Izuku's Ninth Ledger

Training log updated.

Take a breath. The next test is already starting.

✦

I woke three minutes before the alarm, already annoyed.

For half a breath, I expected my phone, my ceiling, the sour taste of coffee I had no time to make.

Then All Might grinned down at me from an old poster.

The tape in one corner had curled loose. Around it, rescue clippings, costume notes, and hero rankings covered the wall in crooked layers. Somebody had underlined the same interview quote so many times the paper had nearly split.

This wasn't my room. My hand still knew where the notebook was.

That was what scared me first. Not the poster. Not the green hair hanging in my eyes. The body moved with habits I had never earned.

I sat up too fast and almost threw up. Memories hit in ugly pieces. A bathroom mirror. A doctor saying sorry.

A woman crying harder than the child in front of her. Katsuki Bakugo's palm popping with sparks.

All Might on television, laughing while a small boy whispered the question that had ruined his whole life. Can I be a hero too? My throat locked.

The memories weren't mine, but my chest didn't care.

I stumbled to the desk and grabbed the nearest notebook. Hero Analysis for the Future, Volume Thirteen. The cover had worn soft at the edges. Inside, neat little sketches crowded every page: quirk angles, rescue timing, costume weak points, habits circled in red, questions stacked under more questions.

The name on the first page was mine now. Izuku Midoriya. Eighteen years old. Quirkless. Still applying to U.A.

The part of me that remembered bills, deadlines, and adult common sense called that insane.

The part of me that remembered clutching a notebook in a classroom full of laughter didn't care. I looked at the calendar near the closet. My stomach went cold.

Not the entrance exam. Not the Sports Festival. Not any of the disasters that came later, when the story stopped pretending hero society had solid walls.

Today. The sludge villain. The underpass. All Might. The roof. One For All. I stared until the little square on the calendar blurred.

Staying home would keep me alive. Taking another street would dodge the attack. Calling the police might even get a few people moving before the villain reached me.

And any of those choices could break the one meeting that mattered. Without the rooftop, the whole future narrowed to a dead end.

My fingers tightened on the notebook. Pressure gathered behind my eyes.

[Hero Analysis Log]

Event Anchor: Sludge Villain Incident Known Outcome: All Might intervention likely Priority: Preserve inheritance route without allowing civilian death

I stopped breathing for a second.

The words sat over the page, thin and pale, visible only to me. No store. No stat window. No list of prizes waiting to be claimed.

Just an analysis note, cold enough to be useful.

"Okay," I whispered.

The voice that came out was softer than mine had ever been, familiar from years of watching this kid suffer and wrong from inside my own mouth.

A knock came at the door.

"Izuku? Breakfast is ready."

I almost answered with an apology before I knew what I had done wrong. That nearly broke me more than the system.

"Coming, Mom."

Warmth moved through the word before I could stop it. Habit. Love. A son's reflex.

I sat there with both hands on the notebook and made myself breathe. I couldn't run from the plot. I also couldn't trust it.

And if these people were real now, then treating them like checkpoints would make me worse than most of the villains I remembered.

By the time I reached the kitchen, I had washed my face and found an expression that shook less. It didn't fool Inko.

She looked up from the stove.

"Are you feeling sick?"

"Nervous," I said. Close enough. "Career review today."

Aldera Professional Prep held one for U.A. applicants and for everyone still pretending a quirk decided the size of a person's future.

In this world, U.A. was a professional hero academy. Applicants had to be adults by enrollment. Ten months until the exam. Ten months to turn a quirkless body into something that could survive the first punch.

Assuming I made it through today.

Inko set breakfast in front of me and watched my face instead of the food.

"You were muttering last night."

My spoon paused.

"Was I?"

"Names. U.A. All Might. Something about timing." She tried to laugh. It came out too thin. "You always think too much before these meetings."

"I get it."

Her hand settled on my shoulder.

I almost flinched, not because I feared her, but because some younger part of me leaned into that touch like it had been waiting all morning.

"Whatever they say," she said, "you are more than one exam."

The old answer rose automatically. Smile. Nod. Lie. I covered her hand instead.

"I'll come home."

Her expression changed just a little. She heard the part I hadn't meant to say. So did I.

I ate everything, packed the notebooks, and left before either of us could ask a question I didn't know how to survive.

Musutafu smelled like wet concrete, exhaust, and fried food from a stand opening too early. Heroes moved through the morning like celebrities with licenses. People looked up, filmed a few seconds, and kept walking.

My feet knew the way to Aldera. That bothered me more than needing a map would have.

The school was full of students trying to look casual about their futures. Quirks flashed in the halls despite the warning signs. A spark here. A floating pencil there. Little reminders that the law only mattered when someone weak needed protecting from it.

Heat popped behind me.

"Move, Deku."

My shoulders tried to obey before the rest of me got a vote. I turned.

Bakugo was taller than I expected, sharper in the face, old enough that his anger no longer looked like childhood. It looked practiced. Two classmates hovered behind him, already smiling because they knew their parts.

So did I. Which was why I refused to play mine.

"Morning, Kacchan."

His eye twitched. Small. Quick. Worth noticing.

"Don't call me that like we're friends."

"Habit."

The hallway quieted around us. He stepped closer. Sparks crawled over his palm, tiny and mean.

"You sound calm today."

I wasn't calm. My pulse was hammering hard enough to make my ribs ache.

But fear could work if I used it. Distance. Angle. Witnesses. His right shoulder forward because he expected me to shrink. Pressure stirred behind my eyes.

[Hero Analysis Log]

Subject: Katsuki Bakugo Threat Type: Close-range explosive intimidation Recommended Action: De-escalate without submission

Useful. Annoying, but useful.

"Big day," I said.

"For people with Quirks."

There it was.

The same cut, or close enough that the body knew where to bleed. Shame rose hot in my face. I let it come. Then I looked him in the eye.

"For anyone applying to be a hero."

One of the extras made a dumb little noise. Bakugo didn't laugh. Worse.

He knew patterns. He had spent years teaching Deku to fold, and today the paper held its shape.

"Say that again."

"We're blocking the hall."

The sparks got louder.

I couldn't beat him. Not now, not quirkless, not in a clean fight. Pretending otherwise would insult both of us. Winning didn't have to mean beating him.

I moved half a step, enough to clear the path without lowering my head.

"Good luck at the review, Bakugo."

His name landed better than an insult. I walked away before my knees ruined it. Every nerve in my back expected heat. None came. That wasn't victory.

It was interest.

The career meeting passed with the usual cruelty wearing adult clothes. The instructor read my U.A. application out loud because a classroom laughed louder when someone in charge gave permission.

Bakugo watched more than he laughed. That bothered me all through the final bell.

Outside, the sky had turned gray enough to make every building look tired. I stopped at the gate. Home was left. The underpass was right.

Somewhere that way, unless I had already changed the day by breathing wrong, a bottle waited in the dark.

I could still go home. Hug my mother. Lock the door. Wait for the news to tell me someone else had taken my place.

My hand tightened around my backpack strap.

"No," I said under my breath.

The kid who owned these memories had run forward without knowing the future. I knew too much to do less. So I turned right.

The streets thinned near the underpass. Water ticked down the concrete. The air smelled sour, like trash left in summer rain. My steps slowed anyway. The system stayed silent.

Of course it did. I already knew what came next. A plastic bottle rolled out of the gloom and bumped my shoe. Small. Sealed. Swollen with pressure.

For one stupid second, my brain supplied the scene like trivia. Hero catches villain. Bottle drops. Bakugo gets caught later. Easy from a couch.

Less easy when the bottle twitched at my feet. The cap bulged. I moved. Not fast enough.

Black-green sludge burst upward and hit me like a wave of rot. The smell got into my mouth first. Then the mass slammed me into the wall hard enough to knock white spots across my vision.

"A body!" a wet voice gurgled. "Finally!"

It forced itself toward my mouth. Everything clever vanished.

Cold slime covered my nose, my eyes, my throat. My lungs jerked around nothing. My hands clawed at a thing that didn't have one place to grab.

The body's old terror joined mine, raw and young and useless.

[Hero Analysis Log]

Threat: Sludge-type possession villain Weakness: Requires airway control Priority: Deny full seal

Backpack strap.

I hooked two fingers under it and yanked until the bag jammed between my chest and the sludge. Then I twisted my chin down and bit the strap.

It didn't give me air. It gave me space. A sliver. Enough to not die in the first five seconds.

"Stop fighting!" the villain hissed against my ear. "Quirkless trash like you should be grateful!"

Something in me went still. Not brave. Angry. That word belonged to too many people.

My hand found the notebook in the side pocket. I shoved it up between us, not as a weapon, just shape. Something solid his body had to bend around.

Half a breath slipped through. It tasted like mold and blood. I used it. I slammed my heel into the ground twice. Not an attack. A signal.

The villain laughed and tightened. My vision narrowed.

Maybe the story didn't care about me. Maybe the hero was thirty seconds away. Maybe he had already turned the corner and left me to be a lesson in arrogance.

Then the air changed.

"Fear not!"

The shout rolled through the underpass, huge and impossible to mistake.

"For I am here!"

The sludge recoiled.

A massive hand tore it away from my face. I fell forward, coughing so hard my chest cramped. Wind crashed over me, and the villain folded under a force my eyes could barely follow.

When I could see again, All Might stood between me and the dark.

Too bright. Too large. Exactly right and painfully human now that I knew what hid under the smile.

The captured villain writhed inside a bottle in his hand.

"Young man!" he boomed. "That was a close call!"

I stared up from my hands and knees. Awe hit first. Grief followed right behind it.

I knew about the wound. I knew about the clock in his body. I knew this man would give away the last pieces of himself and the world would still ask for more.

"Can you stand?"

I nodded too fast and almost tipped sideways. He caught my shoulder. The smile stayed in place. His eyes sharpened. He felt me shaking.

He also felt me stay up.

"You kept him from sealing your airway," he said, quieter now.

Too much. He noticed too much.

"Lucky," I rasped.

"Luck is usually louder."

I almost laughed. It came out as a cough. Sirens wailed somewhere beyond the underpass.

"You should receive medical attention."

No. If he left, the day closed wrong. My hand shot out and grabbed the torn edge of his costume. He looked down.

Every line I had rehearsed died at once. Can I become a hero without a Quirk? That was the question he expected from a desperate fan.

It was also the question that could get me the wrong answer.

"All Might," I said.

His expression softened into the public version of kindness. I tightened my grip.

"Please don't leave yet."

For the first time, the smile hesitated. The bottle in his other hand twitched. My eyes flicked toward it. His followed. Not enough for him to drop it.

Enough for him to know I had noticed.

[Hero Analysis Log]

Inheritance Route: active Deviation Risk: rising Recommended Action: maintain contact

The hero straightened.

"Young man, this isn't safe."

"I do."

The answer came too fast, too honest. His eyes narrowed by a fraction. His free hand started toward mine.

The bottle jerked hard enough to thump against his palm.

He moved before he finished deciding. One arm lifted the captured villain away from my face, his body turning toward open air on pure rescue reflex.

I felt his weight shift a heartbeat before he understood both my hands were locked in his costume.

"Young man--"

He launched upward. The ground disappeared.

Wind punched the rest of the air from my lungs as Musutafu dropped beneath us. I locked both hands into his costume and held on with everything this body had.

He shouted something. The wind swallowed it. I understood only one thing. The rooftop was coming.

And I still had no idea what question would keep the future alive.

✦

✦

✦

Want to stay ahead of the public release?

Patreon has the next chapters waiting, plus previews and story updates.

www.patreon.com/c/quirkafterhours