A week later, the air in the Midoriya apartnt had changed. It no longer slled of stillness, but of ginger tea and the faint sweat of effort. Inko Midoriya, wearing a tank top and leggings that looked fantastic on her, was in the middle of the living room, trying to hold her balance in a gravity-defying yoga pose.
“Izuku, are you sure this is ‘warrior pose’? I feel more like ‘confused flamingo about to fall over.’”
Izuku, sitting on the couch scrolling through his phone, smiled without looking up. “You’re tilting your pelvis forward, Mom. You have to align it with your heels. Tighten your core.”
“‘Tighten your core,’” she huffed, wobbling. “That’s your answer for everything. Headache? Tighten your core. Existential dread? Tighten your core.”
“It works, doesn’t it?”
Before Inko could answer, the sound of the mail carrier in the hallway and the clink of the mail slot caught their attention. They both froze. They looked at each other. It was the day.
Inko abandoned all pretense of yoga and ran to the door. She returned holding a thick envelope with the red seal of U.A. in the center, as if it were a dangerous artifact. She placed it on the coffee table with reverential care.
“Well,” Inko said, her voice trembling, “are you going to open it, or am I?”
“Together,” Izuku decided, his heart hamring in his throat.
They broke the seal with clumsy fingers. Inside wasn't a letter, but a small tal disc. As soon as Izuku touched it, the disc humd and projected a three-dinsional image into the air. The towering, muscular figure of All Might, wrapped in his brightly colored hero costu, materialized before them.
“I AM HERE AS A PROJECTION!”
“ALL MIGHT!!” Inko and Izuku shouted in unison.
The Symbol of Peace’s hologram bead. “Greetings, young Midoriya! I have co to inform you of the results of your entrance exam. On the written test, you achieved an excellent score. Congratulations!”
Izuku held his breath. Inko covered her mouth with her hands.
“But, as you well know, the written exam isn't enough to get into the hero course! What matters is the practical test! And on that test, young man, you scored… zero villain points.”
The air rushed out of Izuku’s lungs. The silence was filled with a crushing weight. Zero. After all that, zero.
“However…” All Might continued, and his signature smile widened even more. “There is another variable! We observe more than just simple destruction! A true hero also saves others from danger! And for that reason, there are Rescue Points!”
A screen appeared next to All Might, showing a grainy recording of the exam. It showed Izuku shouting, and then the avalanche of debris burying the zero-point robot, just as it was about to crush the hiding spot where an injured Ochako Uraraka was.
“For saving another applicant from certain danger, neutralizing a threat that no one else dared to face, Izuku Midoriya, you are awarded sixty Rescue Points! One of the highest scores this year!”
The screen changed, showing the final result: 60 Rescue Points. 0 Villain Points. Pass.
“Welco, young Midoriya!” All Might concluded. “This is your Hero Academia!”
The projection switched off. The silence lasted for a second.
Then, Inko let out a cry of pure joy, a sound so full of pride and relief it made the windows rattle. She jumped on Izuku, hugging him tightly.
“YOU DID IT! IZUKU, YOU DID IT! YOU MADE IT!”
Laughing, overwheld by a wave of happiness that washed away all the tension, Izuku grabbed her by the waist. In a move that would have been unthinkable a year ago, he lifted her off the floor as if she weighed nothing and began to spin with her in the middle of the living room. Inko’s laughter filled the room, a lody that had been absent for too long. It was a perfect mont, a shared victory.
When he finally set her down, both of them dizzy and laughing, Izuku collapsed onto the couch, his heart racing a mile a minute. He pulled out his phone, his fingers flying across the screen.
Izuku: So? Did the girl with the big heart make it? ;)
The reply was almost instantaneous.
Ochako: YESSSSSSSSSS!! 💥💥🎉🎉 DEKU, WE'RE IN!! I'M SCREAMING!! MY PARENTS ARE BUILDING A SHRINE IN MY HONOR (kidding, but barely)!! IT'S THANKS TO YOU!! AND YOUR 60 RESCUE POINTS! I SAW IT ON MY RESULTS! 😱
Izuku smiled, relief a warmth spreading through his entire body.
Izuku: It was both of us. Hey, the plan's still on. Tomorrow. The beach. We need to figure out what happened.
Ochako: I'll be there, partner! 🫡 Ready for secret training!

The next morning’s sun painted Dagobah Beach in a soft golden color, and the sea breeze was cool. The section Izuku and Inko had cleared looked like a private training ground. Uraraka was already there, stretching her leg, which now only showed a pale pink scar thanks to Recovery Girl’s quick work.
“Deku!” she greeted him, her smile as bright as the sun.
“Uraraka. Everything okay?”
“Better than okay! I still can’t believe we’re in! I feel like I’m going to wake up any second. My parents cried! Like, actually cried!”
“My mom, too,” he admitted, scratching his cheek. “Well, after she stopped screaming.”
They laughed, but a mont of awkward silence settled between them. It was different now. They weren’t fighting for their lives. They were just two teenagers on a beach, with a huge, strange secret hanging in the air.
“So…” she said, wringing her hands, “secret training?”
“Secret training,” he confird, getting serious. “We have to replicate what happened. Understand the… the rules of my Quirk. If they even exist.”
He pointed to a rock the size of a soccer ball. “Let’s start with sothing small. Try to make it float. I’ll touch your arm, see if… anything happens.”
She nodded, focused. She approached the rock and held out her hand. Izuku, with a nervousness he hadn’t expected, gently placed his hand on her forearm. The contact of his skin against hers felt strangely intimate in the daylight. Uraraka touched the rock. It floated a couple of inches in the air.
Izuku frowned. “No. I don’t feel anything. I don’t ‘see’ anything. It’s like I’m just touching your arm.”
She let the rock drop. “What did we do differently in the exam?”
“Well, for starters, you were injured and I was carrying you like a sack of potatoes while running for my life,” he reflected. “There was panic. Adrenaline. And full contact.” He grew thoughtful. “And the posture. What I saw… it ntioned balance. The vestibular system. Maybe posture is important.”
“Posture?” she repeated, confused.
“Yeah. Stand up straight. Feet shoulder-width apart. Like you’re about to take a punch.”
She tried, striking a sowhat clumsy fighting pose. She was tense, nervous under his scrutiny.
He sighed, frustrated. “No, not like that. You’re all stiff. Relax.”
He walked up to her and, without a second thought, just as he would have with his mother during their training sessions, he acted. He moved behind her. Uraraka froze instantly. She could feel the heat radiating from his body, sll the fresh scent of his t-shirt. It was overwhelmingly close.
“Relax your shoulders…” his voice was a murmur right next to her ear. His hands landed with surprising firmness on her hips. “And align your hips. Your center of gravity is off. You need to feel it here.”
He guided her, gently rotating her pelvis until her stance was stable, powerful. Uraraka’s heart was hamring against her ribs. Heat. His hands. They’re… on my hips. Oh my god, they’re on my hips. The blush that crept up her neck was so intense she was sure he could feel it.
Izuku, for his part, was fighting his own internal battle. One part of his brain, the analytical part forged in ten months of training, was completely focused on the task. Low center of mass, straight spine, this will maximize her stability and reduce strain on her lower back when manipulating heavy objects. The other part, the part that was a fifteen-year-old boy, was screaming. Okay, perfect waist. Hands here. They fit perfectly. Focus, Midoriya. On the science. The biochanics. Science… is very, very nice to the touch.
He removed his hands after a mont that felt like an eternity. His voice ca out a little hoarser than he intended. “Like that. Stay like that.”
He took a step back. The atmosphere between them had shifted. There was now a mutual awareness of their bodies, a tension that had nothing to do with killer robots.
“Now… try it again,” Izuku said, trying to make his voice sound normal.
He stepped forward and placed a hand on her right shoulder. The contact was an ignition point. They both focused, the earlier awkwardness replaced by intense concentration.
“Okay,” Uraraka whispered.
She touched the sa rock as before. It floated. And this ti, Izuku felt sothing.
“Whoa!”
He pulled his hand back as if he’d gotten an electric shock.
“What? What’s wrong?” she asked, alard.
“I felt it. In my arm. Right where I was touching you,” he explained, his eyes wide. “It wasn’t like last ti. There was no ‘manual.’ It was… a sensation. Like a weightless electric current. A… zero-gravity tingle. Did you feel anything from ?”
She shook her head, confused. “No. Just my Quirk working like always.”
“So it’s one-way,” Izuku muttered to himself. “I feel a reverberation of your power, but you don’t feel mine. How strange.” He rubbed his chin, the thrill of discovery overpowering the tension. “Okay. Progress. Let’s move on to sothing heavier.”
He pointed to a car engine half-buried in the sand. “Try that.”
Uraraka swallowed hard. “That’s… heavy.”
“That’s the point. I want to see what happens under pressure.”
They got ready again. He placed his hand back on her shoulder. She focused on the engine and touched it. The tal block shuddered and, with a grunt of effort from her, it slowly began to rise.
“I’ve got it… I’ve got it…” she panted. But then, her body wobbled and she put a hand to her head. “Oh… the nausea… it’s stronger.”
Izuku closed his eyes, concentrating on the sensation on her shoulder, on the connection. The information didn’t co as a flood, but as flashes, like real-ti diagnostics.
“You’re leaning,” he said, his voice calm and confident. “You’re compensating with your left hip because your injured leg is weaker. The ‘manual’ says the nausea is from the fluid in your ears. Don’t fight the feeling, flow with it! Straighten your back, breathe from your diaphragm, find your center! Like I showed you!”
Following his instructions like a steadying point in a storm, Uraraka adjusted her posture. She took a deep breath, feeling her feet settle into the sand. To her absolute astonishnt, the wave of nausea receded. It didn’t vanish, but it beca manageable, a background noise instead of a deafening scream.
“It’s… it’s working,” she said, incredulous. “Deku, it’s working!”
He smiled, his eyes still closed. “I know. I’m seeing it.”
The trust between them grew, solid and tangible. Izuku opened his eyes and his gaze fell on his true target: the rusted, wrecked chassis of a car, the junkyard prize.
“Okay, Uraraka. The ultimate test.”
“The car? Deku, that’s impossible! It weighs tons!”
“The ‘manual’ said your limit is about three tons,” he countered, his voice vibrating with excitent. “That thing has to weigh more. We’re not going to launch it to the moon. I just want to make it float. One inch. I want to see if I can do more than just feel and diagnose.”
“Do what?”
“I don’t know,” he admitted with brutal honesty. “Give your Quirk a push. Overclock it.”
He looked at her, and she saw the madness and genius shining in his eyes. She nodded, her own heart pounding with a mix of fear and exhilaration. “Let’s do it.”
They positioned themselves in front of the car. Izuku didn’t just put a hand on her shoulder; he placed both hands, one on each shoulder, a firm and steady grip.
“Get ready,” he said in a low voice. “On three. One… two…”
“THREE!”
Uraraka scread, a guttural sound that ca from the depths of her being, and slamd both palms against the car’s rusted tal. At the sa ti, Izuku gritted his teeth, tensing every muscle in his body, and focused with an intensity he had never known. He wasn’t trying to ‘see’ the manual. He was trying to ‘write’ in it. To push his own energy, his own will, through his hands, through the connection, and directly into her Quirk.
MORE! GIVE IT MORE! BREAK THE LIMIT!
Sweat beaded on Uraraka’s forehead. Her knuckles were white from the pressure against the car. The muscles in Izuku’s arms trembled from the strain.
And then, for one glorious instant that seed to last an eternity, it happened.
With a groan of tortured tal, the car’s fra lifted. An inch. Two. It hung suspended in the air, trembling, defying gravity and all logic.
Then, the connection broke.
The car fell with a dull, final thud that sent sand flying.
Simultaneously, they both collapsed. They fell to their knees, exhausted, breathless, their muscles screaming in protest. They stayed like that for a long mont, panting, staring at the sand.
Finally, they looked up. They looked at each other. And a disbelieving, euphoric, and utterly exhausted laugh erupted from both of them.

They were sitting in the sand, their backs against a giant tire, looking at the car they had moved. The sun was higher now, warming their skin. The initial shock was giving way to an overwhelming realization.
“You didn’t just read it, Deku,” Uraraka finally said, her voice barely a whisper. “You… you enhanced it. You pushed it. It was like your power and mine connected, rged for a second.”
Izuku looked at his hand, flexing his fingers. He no longer saw it as sothing foreign. A slow, genuine smile, full of a newfound power, ford on his lips.
“I think… I think my Quirk isn’t ‘Coach.’ It’s sothing else.” He paused, searching for the right word, one that didn’t sound ridiculous, one that fit the magnitude of what they had just done. “A… ‘Booster,’ maybe,” he said, testing the word. “Or an ‘Amplifier.’ It doesn’t just read the instruction manual. It helps write the next chapter. It adds more power.”
“A Booster…” Uraraka repeated, and the word seed to fit perfectly. “I like it.”
They fell silent again, but this ti it was a comfortable silence, full of aning.
“This…” Izuku began. “We can’t just keep this a secret because of my fear anymore.”
“No,” she agreed, looking at him seriously. “This is a secret weapon. Our secret weapon. If anyone knew we could do this…”
“We’d be a target. Or an experint,” he finished. “No one can know. No one. It’s our advantage.”
“Our secret,” she said, and held out her fist.
He bumped his fist against hers. The pact was sealed, no longer forged in fear, but in strategy and absolute trust. They were a two-person team with a potentially unstoppable combo.
Later, as Izuku walked back ho, his body aching but his mind racing a mile a minute, his main goal, the one that had started it all, ca back into crystal-clear focus.
Booster, he thought. I like it. With this power, and with Uraraka as my partner… the possibilities are endless. I can help her beco an incredible hero. And she can help beco… whatever I need to be.
The path to the top of the hero world, once a distant fantasy, now seed like a map spread out at his feet. The magazine covers, the rankings, the internships with the best agencies…
An image of a giant, blonde heroine winking at him filled his mind.
Yeah, he told himself with a determined smile. The internships, definitely.
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