Chapter 4

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Strength

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Chapter 4

The school week dragged by like a half-charged support item—functional, but barely.

Everything on the surface ran like clockwork, training blocks, patrol simulations, late homeroom lectures on crisis ethics, the usual lunchtime chaos that Izuku had been used to in his home parallel.

From the outside, nothing looked different. Not to Aizawa. Not to their classmates. Not to the underclassmen who still whispered about the time "Midoriya" supposedly blasted a student from Class 1B in the face for looking at him wrong way.

But beneath the skin of routine, something else pulsed.

A quiet countdown.

A weight they couldn't shake.

Katsuki felt it too. Even if he didn't say it out loud—not really. But Izuku could tell in the way he kept glancing at him during drills, not with suspicion, but calculation. Like he was waiting for something to go wrong. Or maybe for the next clue to finally snap into place.

They'd kept their eyes open all week. Watched for patterns. Checked the names of the staff, the history of the older buildings on campus, even scanned through old U.A. blueprints Katsuki "borrowed" off All Might's private drive. But nothing matched.

No roaring dormancy.

No sterile halls soaked in shadow.

No rage waiting to bloom.

It was like chasing a phantom through fog. And worse, even though it had only been a week, it felt like they were already running out of time.

Every afternoon after classes let out, they reserved one of the underground training gyms—rotating between Beta and Delta depending on who got there first. Three hours, uninterrupted. Katsuki threw himself into training the way he always did: with purpose, violence, and no patience for plateaus. He split his focus between mastering Black Whip and adapting to the raw force that was All For One's core.

Izuku watched him work sometimes between his own sets—watched the strain in Katsuki's shoulders, the sweat clinging to his jaw, the sharp bark of frustration when the floor cracked under his footing from applying too much power too fast or the occasional broken finger that had to be mended by Recovery Girl.

He hadn't quite figured out how to anchor the strength yet. It surged differently than his explosions—slower to start, harder to shut down. More like a wave than a blast.

Izuku had suggested, gently, they should maybe work with Uraraka, prepare for when Float eventually did surface. Just for a session or two. Just to help with stabilization and direction since she had experience navigating flight without propulsion.

Katsuki had gave him a look that said you must've hit your head on a goddamn rock and flat-out refused.

"I've been flying practically my whole life," he'd said, already halfway through another round of jump launches and airbrake drills. "I don't need fuckin' directions from anyone, alright?"

Which, honestly, was fair. Katsuki's control in the air was insane. Always had been. Still, Izuku made a mental note to ask Uraraka anyway. Quietly. Just in case.

They also sparred a few times too. Neither of them tried to best each other, they didn't need to.

Not when the real fight was already waiting, etched into the lines of a riddle they still couldn't crack. Izuku had also started pushing himself harder—deliberately—to hone his control over Katsuki's quirk. At first, it had felt like trying to wrangle a fire hose with no grip, even with the backup instincts from his other self. The explosions didn't just respond to intention—they reacted to everything. Heat, sweat, blood sugar, frustration. It was volatile in a way One For All never had been. Less like borrowing power and more like his body had been hijacked by a living, chemical thing that wanted to ignite the second it was provoked.

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