MHA: The Fictional Hero: All Fiction - Chapter 3

On the way home, Izuku Midoriya found himself standing once again before the quiet koi pond right in front of his school. The water, serene and glassy, barely rippled as the late afternoon sun shimmered upon its surface. He stared down into it, eyes distant, lips pressed in a thin line.

There—half-sunken among floating leaves and fish lazily circling about—was his notebook.

The same notebook that had been so cruelly scorched and tossed aside. Its edges curled and blackened, its once-proud title barely legible.

With a quiet sigh, Izuku reached in, fingers brushing the cold water as he retrieved what remained of it. The soaked cover bent under his grip, flaking away like ash. The ink had bled into the pages, merging notes and theories into abstract art. A tragic mosaic of a dream mocked.

But Izuku wasn’t focused on the loss. His thoughts drifted far from the smoldering remnants of his beloved notes… and even further from Bakugo’s venomous words that still echoed faintly in his mind.

"Take a swan dive off the roof."

No.

Even if he hadn’t awakened a Quirk, that kind of despair—no matter how close it sometimes crept—was never something he would truly give in to. Because somewhere deep within him, even during his most hopeless moments, he had always clung to the idea of becoming a hero.

But now? Now that dream wasn’t just a fragile ember.

It was a spark igniting into a flame.

His focus had shifted completely—his mind locked not on despair, but on determination.

The U.A. Entrance Exam… it’s coming.

And for the first time, he had power.

Or at least… the beginnings of it.

By now, Izuku had started to grasp a solid idea of his Quirk—what it could do. Its boundaries were still hazy, but one thing was certain: it was immensely versatile. A strange, dreamlike ability to draw upon the powers and abilities of fictional characters.

Almost like possessing a compendium of Quirks from across different realities—all packed into one.

At the moment, his primary focus had been Hunter × Hunter, since it was all that was available for him. But what if the ability wasn’t limited to just that? What if… the range of characters he could access stretched far beyond one series?

‘What if I could tap into other universes entirely…?’

A thrill ran down his spine at the thought.

‘If my theory about other works of fiction is true… then what happens if I try to copy the power of a god?’

Truth, from Fullmetal Alchemist—an entity who represented knowledge, law, and the metaphysical.

The Presence, the creator of all in the DC multiverse.

The One Above All… the omnipotent being in Marvel's vast universe.

‘If I could even grasp a sliver of that kind of power…’

Even if such beings were beyond his reach—even if fictional divinity had limits in his world—there were still plenty of powerful characters that could raise his potential to impossible heights.

Luffy. Zoro. Naruto. Sasuke. Goku. Superman. Thor. Thanos.

What if his body really did adapt to the powers he copied? If his cells learned to bear the strain of impossible strength? If his limits were no longer of his own reality?

It would mean that, with enough time and training, he wouldn’t just match All Might.

He could surpass him.

His quirk brought another unsettling question to the surface—one he hadn’t dared ask aloud.

‘If I can copy the abilities of fictional characters… does that mean those worlds are real?’

The idea sent shivers down his spine.

The Multiverse Theory. Infinite worlds, infinite possibilities. If his Quirk somehow tapped into those worlds, then maybe—just maybe—fiction wasn’t fiction at all. Perhaps they were echoes of other realities, whispered into this one.

And if so… what did that say about the nature of his Quirk?

Quirks were supposed to be scientific. Based in biology, in genetics. A mutation in the human genome, given structure and logic.

But his Quirk?

It broke logic.

Is it tapping into the multiverse?

‘Am I real or just the character in someone else’s story?’

That existential crisis would have to wait.

Because regardless of the origin or implications, one fact remained: he had work to do.

A lot of it.

His Quirk might be powerful, but it came with one glaring, absolute weakness.

His own body.

Each ability he copied—no matter how incredible—could only be used within the limits of his physical and mental state.

If the skill relied on strength, he needed muscles to match. If it required willpower, mental clarity, or aura, then he had to build those foundations. In the case of Nen techniques from Hunter × Hunter, many relied not on brute strength, but on stamina and aura capacity too.

Different power systems, different mechanics… but all of them needed a vessel strong enough to wield them.

He was the vessel.

So, he needed to make it worthy.

He clenched his fists. His body, his mind—they had to become weapons. Polished, hardened, adaptable. And soon.

Another challenge began to loom in his mind: the danger of becoming a jack of all trades.

Just Hunter × Hunter alone gave him access to nearly a hundred Nen abilities—and that didn’t even begin to touch other series or other skill trees. He could lose himself in the sea of possibilities, too scattered to master any of them.

He needed focus. Specialization. A carefully curated arsenal that could cover multiple scenarios—combat, rescue, and support.

Luckily, if everything went according to plan, his express delivery would have already arrived. A stack of manga volumes, books, and comics he had handpicked for research and experiments with his Quirk. They should be already waiting at home for him, all ready.

I’ll need to narrow it down. Pick a few characters. A handful of powers. Then train them until they’re second nature.

A rough schedule was already forming in his head by the time he entered the underpass tunnel, footsteps echoing along the concrete walls.

That was when it happened.

A metallic clatter rang out ahead. The manhole cover began to shake—twitching violently before bursting with a wet, meaty squelch.

Slimy sludge exploded from the darkness below, twisting and rising like a grotesque puppet made of ooze.

Izuku froze, but only for a split second. Instinct kicked in.

He leapt backward, bracing himself as the creature fully emerged from the sewer. Its form constantly shifted, arms flowing like liquid as it leered at him with an inhuman grin.

It resembled a man—but it was anything but human.

“A… villain?” Izuku muttered, eyes narrowing.

“Now that’s just rude!” The creature snapped, voice wet and raspy. “Discriminating against sentient sludge? Maybe I’m just a sewer worker having a rough day, brat!”

Izuku blinked, caught off guard. “...That's fair. I’m sorry.”

“I accept your apology.” The villain's grin widened. “Now—GET OVER HERE!”

The mass of sludge surged toward him.

Izuku’s hand was already moving.

It dove into his backpack—instinctively guiding it to a familiar compartment—where the unmistakable image of Chrollo Lucilfer stared up at him from the cover of a Hunter × Hunter volume.

The moment he touched it, the shift occurred.

Knowledge. Instinct. Skill.

Combat experience surged through his nerves like electricity. His eyes sharpened. His breath slowed. His feet moved before he could think.

A wave of sludge slammed into the spot he’d just been standing.

‘Too close,’ Izuku thought, leaping again, creating more space between them. His mind raced. ‘His body’s made of pure sludge. That’s just like a Logia from One Piece. Physical attacks are useless unless I can find a way to interact with his real body—if he even has one.’

Then—something strange.

A shimmer.

A flicker.

He saw it.

Aura.

The same shimmering presence he had started sensing around himself after awakening his Nen. It flowed faintly from the villain's shifting form—just like he had seen earlier around Bakugo during that heated confrontation. Back then he hadn’t thought more about it, being too distracted.

Izuku’s breath caught.

Wait… their Quirk factors—they're leaking aura. Just like mine. Except they haven’t awakened it fully.

Could Quirks be a mutation of Nen? A different expression of the same life energy?

That theory would have to wait.

Right now—his life was in danger.

“Just give up already, brat!” the villain roared.

Izuku dodged again, rolling to the side as another sludge tendril lashed out. As he rose, a second book shimmered into existence in his hand—the one with the white handprint on the cover.

Bandit’s Secret.

The villain scoffed. “What is this? A book club meeting?”

“Sorry, I don’t think it matters to you. If you were literate, you wouldn’t be some small-scale villain attacking a schoolboy.” He now had a book in each hand—his brain, his muscles, and his aura operating in perfect sync. Even as fatigue began to creep into his limbs, Chrollo’s instincts guided him.

A step forward. A pivot. A duck under a wave of sludge.

He was getting tired. He wouldn’t last forever.

All this dodging was exhaustive.

“You!” complained the villain.

The real problem?

He had no idea how to actually beat the villain. Physical attacks were useless—completely ineffective against that writhing mass of sludge.

For a split second, Izuku considered switching tactics—perhaps a new ability. What about Shizuku Murasaki? Her Nen ability, Blinky, was a summoned vacuum cleaner that could swallow infinite amounts of material. That kind of power might just—

Wait.

His eyes darted to the side. He had the volume of the Phantom Troupe arc in his backpack—the one with the entire troupe on the cover. Shizuku was in there. But—he caught himself—Blinky can’t suck in anything that’s alive.

And this sludge… As disgusting as it was, it was definitely alive.

It wouldn’t work.

What he needed wasn’t destruction. It was restraint—an ability that could neutralize the villain without killing him.

Then it clicked. A spark of inspiration flared in his chest. Of course! There was an ability like that—one Chrollo had used in his fight against Hisoka!

“Black Voice!”

Without hesitation, he flipped open Bandit’s Secret to the corresponding page, his fingers moving almost on instinct. Shalnark’s Nen ability, one Chrollo had borrowed for the fight with Hisoka. A manipulation-type power that could take control of a target via a phone and antenna.

But just as he laid eyes on the page, a surge of danger spiked behind him—Izuku twisted his body, leaping back just in time to avoid another wave of sludge.

“Shit!” he cursed, breath ragged. “So close…”

“What’s wrong, brat?” The villain sneered, voice sloshing like wet garbage. “You’re running on fumes. Just stop struggling, and I’ll make your death quick. We’re both on the clock here.”

Izuku didn’t answer. He couldn’t. Why wasn’t it working?

He had the right volume with the Ability in one hand. The correct page in Bandit’s Secret. But there was no phone. No antenna. Nothing.

“Wasn’t it… conjured? “Both the phone and antenna?” he muttered to himself, eyes wide. “Why can’t I summon them?!”

It was the first time since receiving his Quirk that he’d actually failed to activate an ability. And the worst part? He didn’t know why.

He was lacking the necessary tools, but Chrollo’s knowledge didn’t tell him how to get them!

Desperate, Izuku began flipping through the volume as he ran away, pages fluttering wildly in his hands while the villain’s slimy form slithered closer with every step.

“It’s somewhere at the beginning… right when Chrollo faces Hisoka… Come on, come on!”

And there it was—second chapter, near the end.

He froze.

It was a critical mistake.

In one panel, Chrollo leapt forward with empty hands. In the next, he held the phone, the two antennas clearly visible—ready to use Black Voice.

No explanation. No transition.

Just… there.

“As unhelpful as ever,” Izuku muttered bitterly, his heart pounding in his chest. ‘Shit! I need that phone—at least one antenna—if I want to survive!’

His eyes widened.

The panel on the page—the one showing the phone—began to ripple.

As if someone had dropped a stone into a pond. The ink distorted, bending unnaturally.

‘No way…’

Izuku’s breath caught in his throat.

Could it be?

He dropped the manga onto Bandit’s Secret, holding the two books steady with one hand. Slowly, cautiously, he reached forward with the other.

His fingertip dipped into the page.

“—!”

But before he could grab anything, a violent impact struck his back.

Pain flared through his ribs as he was sent flying, the books flung from his hands as he cried out, “NO!”

“Oh yes!” the villain howled in delight. “Gotcha, you little pest. I don’t know what you were trying to pull, but I don’t have time for your games. He’s in the city, and I need a new body—now! Hold still and become my meat suit!”

The sludge began to wrap around him, his limbs bound tight, the vile liquid seeping into his mouth. Air—cut off.

“It’ll be over in a minute,” the villain sneered. “Faster, less painful if you stop squirming.”

But Izuku didn’t stop.

He focused, changing his Nen into Ren, the combat state, trying to rip the sludge away with sheer willpower. It was no good—Nen didn’t work like Armament Haki. He couldn’t force the intangible to become tangible.

‘I’m too weak…’ The thought echoed bitterly in his mind as he struggled in vain.

The books were out of reach now, lying several meters away on the cold, unforgiving concrete.

If he could scream, he would’ve. If he could call for help, he would’ve shouted until his lungs burst. Surely someone had heard the chaos by now. Someone had to—

And then—

BOOM.

The manhole exploded upward, the cover launching sky-high.

A silhouette stood framed by the sunlight.

A deep, powerful voice echoed through the tunnel like a war drum.

“It’s all right now, young man!”

“I am here!”

All Might.

The Number One Hero descended with a weight that made the ground tremble, one foot crashing down like the judgment of a god.

“TEXAS SMASH!”

His fist slammed at the villain with thunderous force, unleashing a blast of air that scattered the sludge in every direction.

Freed from the suffocating grip, Izuku dropped to the ground, gasping, lungs burning as precious air returned.

“Are you all right, young man?” the booming voice asked with concern, the Number One Hero himself stepping forward, his expression softening as he extended a hand.

Izuku blinked, still slightly dazed. Slowly, he took the offered hand and allowed All Might to pull him up.

“I think so… All Might. Thank you for the save,” he said, brushing dust off his sleeves. “He didn’t hold me for long.”

He let out a breath of relief—but then, his brows furrowed.

“If I just understood my Quirk better… I might’ve been able to take him down myself.”

“Oh?” All Might tilted his head, curious. “And what makes you say that, young man?” He studied Izuku more carefully. For someone his age, it was strange not to know his own Quirk well.

“You wouldn’t know this, but I’m kind of a late bloomer,” Izuku said with a sheepish chuckle, beginning to gather the scattered contents of his bag. “I only awakened my Quirk… yesterday.”

“Yesterday?” All Might repeated, genuinely surprised. “Quite the strange luck you have. How old are you? Sixteen? Seventeen?”

“Seventeen,” Izuku confirmed as he reached for a notebook lying nearby. “Told you—late bloomer. Not sure if there has ever been a later one.”

All Might bent down to help, his eyes catching the cover of the notebook in his hands. Flipping it open, he noticed that it was meticulously filled with Quirk- and hero-related observations, analyses, and facts—so detailed it gave him pause.

“This is…” he began, flipping through a few pages. “Is that your work?”

“Yeah. It’s one of my Hero Notebooks—I’ve got twelve more just like it.” Izuku smiled a little awkwardly. “Originally, I was preparing to apply to a Hero Course without a Quirk. So I figured the best thing I could do was sharpen my body and mind. Strategy, combat theory, analysis… anything I could use without a Quirk, I studied.”

All Might raised an eyebrow, clearly impressed. “A Quirkless Hero? That’s… quite the ambition.” He flipped another page and nodded approvingly. “These notes are incredible. Dangerous, even, if they ended up in the wrong hands.”

Izuku’s heart skipped a beat at the praise.

“So… you’re aiming for U.A.?” All Might asked, handing the notebook back.

“Yes,” Izuku nodded. “My dream was to follow in the footsteps of heroes like Principal Nezu. But now that I’ve awakened my Quirk… things have changed. It could be powerful, but I’ll need to adjust everything—my exam strategy, my training schedule…”

He frowned, mumbling more to himself than to All Might.

“…Though I still don’t have a proper training plan. Or a place to train.”

All Might’s gaze sharpened, but his smile never faltered. “What kind of place are you looking for?”

“Well, somewhere I can safely experiment. My Quirk can get… destructive when pushed. But I also need to keep building my physical strength, since my Quirk seems to scale with how strong my body is,” Izuku explained honestly. “I’ve kept myself in decent shape—above average, maybe—but I’ve never been able to afford a full-time gym membership.”

“I see,” All Might said thoughtfully. And then, that radiant grin spread across his face.

“In that case, how about I help you out?”

“Eh? N-No, really! There’s no need, All Might!” Izuku stammered, his face turning red with embarrassment.

“Nonsense,” All Might chuckled warmly. “You ended up in danger because of me. That villain was clever—slipped away through the sewers while I was distracted. It took me far too long to track him again. The least I can do is give something back.”

He paused, then asked with a sparkle in his eye, “Are you familiar with Takoba Municipal Beach Park?”

“The trash-filled beach?” Izuku blinked. “Yeah… Ocean currents dump garbage there, and people just started adding more. It’s completely ruined.”

“Exactly!” All Might declared proudly. “And it’s perfect for training an aspiring hero!”

“...Huh?”

“With all that trash, you’ll have a whole beach of targets to test your quirk on and a wide range of weights to train every muscle group. Heroics isn’t just about flash and glory, young man—its foundation lies in service. You’ll be restoring the environment and your body. What do you say?”

Izuku hesitated. “But… can I really use my Quirk there? Isn’t that against the law?”

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll arrange for a temporary Quirk Permit specifically for cleanup efforts,” All Might assured him. “As long as you’re not using it against people, you’re in the clear. I’ll even set up trash containers and draft a proper training plan for you—complete with nutrition guidance.”

Then, with his voice rising in passion, he asked, “So, how about it, young man… Are you ready to become a hero?”

A spark lit in Izuku’s chest, and his lips curled into a determined smile.

“Yes!” he said, full of resolve.

“Good! All I need is your name and address,” All Might said, reaching for his pocket. “I’ll send you the full details in the next few days.”

“Of course! “I’m Izuku Midoriya!” he said proudly, before glancing around. “Oh—and do you need help gathering the sludge?”

“That would be great,” All Might laughed sheepishly. “I… kind of forgot I have another appointment.”

Izuku turned to help—but then froze mid-step.

“All Might… How are you going to transport the villain?”

All Might turned, holding up two empty soda bottles with a grin.

“Like this!”

Izuku just blinked.