Chapter 4: The Ten-Month Sentence
Tuesday, April 3 at 3:13 am
"Izu…."
"Izuku…"
"IZUKU WAKE THE HELL UP!"
The first thing Izuku felt was the cold. It wasn't the natural chill of a cold night, but the sterile, artificial cold of a reinforced concrete room. His head throbbed with a rhythmic, dull ache—a lingering souvenir from Gran Torino's final kick.
Izuku's eyes finally flickered open, but the darkness didn't lift. The room was windowless, illuminated only by a faint, blue-tinted LED strip embedded in the ceiling. He tried to move his four arms, but they were tugged back and pinned against his torso by heavy, matte-black bands.
As Izuku instinctively fought against the restraints, a low-pitched whine emitted from the bands, followed immediately by a violent, jagged surge of high-voltage electricity that tore through his entire body. The shock wasn't just a painful discharge; it was a sophisticated biofeedback system designed to disrupt the user's nervous system. The bands functioned as a neural-dampener, specifically calibrated to detect heart rate spikes and the subtle hum of an active quirk factor. For Izuku, even the minor flux of his cursed energy triggered the sensors, causing the restraints to deliver a focused pulse that paralyzed his muscles and caused his vision to go white for a split second.
These weren't standard handcuffs; they were high-output quirk-suppressant restraints, thick and cold, wrapping around his chest and arms like a burial shroud. Each band was wired directly into the room's power grid, ensuring a constant, lethal deterrent against any attempt at a physical or energy-based breakout.
He looked to see if his hands were free but realized that they were completely encased in thick, reinforced black mitts that felt like solid lead. Izuku tried to infuse his fingers with cursed energy so his brother could use cleave; however, he realised that his reserves were at an all-time low.
'Shrine is useless,' Izuku thought, his breath hitching in the stale air. 'The police usually have top-tier heroes like Mirko or All Might test the stress limits of these restraints. I would need to use at least 60% of my reserves to break free. But since I poured everything into that binding vow against Gran Torino, I've only recovered about fifteen percent while unconscious.'
He let out a jagged, frustrated breath. He must have been out for hours to even recover that much cursed energy. 'Might as well use the rest of my power for something useful.'
Despite the restraints, Izuku closed his eyes and focused, keeping his heart rate as level as possible to avoid the sensors. A faint, low-frequency hum began to resonate within his body. A soft, white steam began to rise from his skin as he funneled his remaining cursed energy into his reverse cursed technique. Slowly, the internal bruising from the jet kicks began to fade, and the concussion in his skull settled into a manageable dullness.
"Izuku..." Wasuke's voice spoke up again, his small face manifesting on the left side of Izuku's cheek. "Are you finally awake"?
"I'm fine, Wasuke," Izuku replied, reassuring his brother. "When did you wake up?"
"About two minutes before you," Wasuke said, his voice hesitant and uncharacteristically soft. "Listen, Izu... I'm sorry about what happened with the couple on the street. If I hadn't diverted the dismantle to save them, we could have hit the old bastard and escaped. Instead, I got us caught. It cost us four million yen. I cost us our future. I cost us everything."
Izuku stopped the RCT for a moment, the silence of the cell pressing in on him.
"Don't apologize, Wasuke," Izuku whispered aloud, his voice raspy. "I was staring at them, too. I saw the debris about to fall on top of them, and I froze. I was supposed to reincarnate as a selfless hero, but I was contemplating whether or not I should save someone's life just to save my own skin. However," Izuku replied, a rare note of softness in his tone. "You made the choice I was struggling to make in a split second. You helped keep us on our reincarnated path. Even though I couldn't have done it, that would be something that brat, a selfless hero, wouldn't hesitate to do. Thank you, Wasuke. Even in another life, you still find a way to make that annoying grandchild of yours proud."
The silence returned, but it felt less heavy. After a few minutes, Wasuke asked the question that had been burning in his mind since they arrived.
"So... what's the plan? Do we have a way out of these black bands? Can we break the door? Giran has to be looking for us, right?"
Izuku let out a long, slow sigh, leaning his head back against the reinforced wall. "I don't have a plan, Wasuke. First, I can't break out of these restraints with my current output, and the feedback is too intense. Second, this isn't a normal precinct jail cell for misdemeanors. This is a high-security isolation cell for dangerous villains, with cameras in every corner. Between Gran Torino, Ingenium, and the police... There is no 'out' right now."
He paused, the reality of their situation sinking in. "And even if we did slip away, my mask was destroyed. The heroes and the police have seen my face. We would be hunted down constantly by the police. So any dream of going to a hero school is gone. And Giran? He doesn't dirty his hands for people who get caught. Knowing him, he's probably already moved on to another scheme to make money."
"Damnit!" Wasuke's voice spiked in alarm. "Then what the hell are we supposed to do? Just sit here and wait for them to ship us to Tartarus?"
"Get some sleep, Wasuke," Izuku said, closing his four eyes as the exhaustion of the last nine years finally caught up to him. He felt the cold metal of the restraints, but for the first time since they had reincarnated, he didn't have to look over his shoulder for a challenger or a debt collector.
"Close your eyes. This is probably the most sleep we're going to get in years. Let's enjoy the quiet while it lasts."
The hum of the Quirk-suppressants continued, but soon, the rhythmic breathing of the massive brothers in the center of the dark room was the only other sound to be heard.
Tuesday, April 3, 11:05 am, Hosu Police Headquarters
The heavy, mechanical hum of the isolation cell door's locking mechanism echoed through the small space, breaking the silence Izuku and Wasuke had shared. Izuku didn't move, his four eyes remaining closed, though he felt the shift in air pressure.
"Standby. Opening the containment lock," a professional, slightly nervous voice announced over the intercom.
The door slid open with a metallic hiss. A police officer with distinct feline features—looking very much like an orange tabby—entered, followed by two others holding high-output restraint controllers. Behind them, an automated, heavy-duty transport chair—a reinforced steel frame designed to hold high-threat Quirk users—was pushed into the room.
"Ryomen Sukuna," the cat-like officer stated, his voice steady despite the way he gripped his clipboard. "You're being moved for questioning. Do not resist. These restraints are wired to the building's grid. If your heart rate spikes or you attempt to activate your quirk, your nervous system will be fried."
Izuku opened his four eyes, his face fully exposed now that the red oni mask was gone. The sharp, angular features and the two additional eyes, situated just below his primary ones, gave him an air of terrifying, ancient authority, even in his battered state.
Without a word, Izuku allowed them to secure him to the transport chair. As the matte-black bands were locked into the chair's frame, Izuku felt the familiar, low-pitched whine of the neural-dampeners. One of the officers accidentally tightened a cuff too quickly, and the bio-feedback system reacted instantly, sending a jagged, white-hot shock through Izuku's nervous system that made his teeth ache. He didn't scream, but his jaw clenched hard enough to crack.
The walk through the precinct was a gauntlet of stares. Officers stopped in their tracks, watching as the "King of the Masquerade" was wheeled past. At fourteen years old, standing over six-and-a-half feet tall and built with the dense musculature of a professional fighter, he looked like a titan being moved by ants.
They arrived at a heavy steel door labeled Room 4. The sensors scanned the officer's badge, and the door hissed open. The room was larger than his cell, dominated by a heavy metal table bolted to the floor. Three figures were already waiting.
On the left stood Ingenium, Tensei Iida. His silver and blue armor was still scuffed from the warehouse raid. He held his helmet at his side, revealing a sympathetic face with blue hair and kind eyes. On the right, leaning against the far wall, was Gran Torino. The old man looked small, but his grumpy, wrinkled face radiated the intensity of a veteran who had seen it all.
However, the one who interested Izuku the most was the man sitting on the opposite side of the table. He looked like a man who carried the weight of the city on his shoulders, his face marked by the chronic fatigue of a detective who spent more nights in the office than at home. He wore a simple, slightly wrinkled white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up to the mid-forearm, revealing a sturdy build that had clearly seen its share of field work. His trademark tan trench coat was draped over the back of his chair, and a simple fedora sat on the table beside a lukewarm cup of tea. Unlike the officers in the hallway, his dark eyes didn't widen or flinch as Izuku entered; instead, they were fixed on the boy with a calm, analytical patience. The detective's name was….
"Naomasa Tsukauchi," Izuku said with a slick, knowing smile. "It's nice to finally meet you."
Detective Tsukauchi's eyes widened in genuine surprise. "You know my name?"
"Of course I do," Izuku stated. "I kept tabs on every person in Japan that interested me. Naomasa Tsukauchi, 'the True Man'.Quirk: Truth Seeker. When anyone asks a question in your presence, and someone then answers it, if you lock eyes with them for five seconds, you can tell if they're telling the truth or lying."
Izuku tilted his head, his four eyes narrowing. "You entered the National Police Academy at age eighteen with the highest entry exam score in your district's history. You graduated at twenty-two, top of your class. By age twenty-four, you were assigned to the Hosu Major Crimes Division. You solved the 'Kira' serial case at twenty-six, earning you a promotion to detective at twenty-seven. You then confronted the 'Scarred Man', now known as Rokuro Nomura, at the Osaka Incident at age thirty-one, who later caused the Sky Egg Bombings, in which you led the raid to evacuate the hostages. Finally, when you turned thirty-four, you helped mitigate the damage of Pop-Step's destructive final tour, and you, Ingenium, Best Jeanist, and Edgeshot helped the Sky Crawler, formerly known as 'the Cruller', defeat Nomura during the Naruhata Lockdown. I'm surprised your sister didn't become a cop, with her quirk, Polygraph, it would be a lot easier to use during interrogat—."
"I'm impressed that you know your stuff, Sukuna." TsukauchiTsukauchi aggressively interrupted, his tone sharpening. "And since you know all about my life and my quirk, I hope we won't have to lock your face still and jam your eyes open when one of us asks a question."
Izuku's smile turns into a neutral expression, and he nods his head, realizing the situation that he is now in.
"Good. Now then, since you know my name, what is your name?" Tsukauchi asked, regaining his calm composure. "We tested your blood, and we couldn't find a match. Plus, it's common practice to tell people your name. "
"My real name is Izuku."
Five seconds passed in absolute silence. A subtle chime echoed in Tsukauchi's mind.
'TRUTH'
"What happened to your parents?" The detective asked.
"My father died in a car crash when I was born, and my mother abandoned me when I was four years old."
"Do you want to tell us your mother's name? We can reconnect you with her."
"No thanks." Even though Izuku was still looking directly at Tsukauchi, his face shifted slightly while he answered the question. "It wouldn't matter. I doubt my mother would ever want to see my face again."
Naomasa nodded, then wrote something down on his notepad. "Do you remember the name of the orphanage that you stayed at?"
"I have never been to one."
Tsukauchi stared at Izuku's blank face for five seconds and then said out loud. "True".
Ingenium then perked up, surprised, and then asked the four-armed boy. "Why did you go to an orphanage? You could have at least been off the streets and been relocated to live with a nice family."
"Because the orphanages are a scam." Izuku then signed and then continued with what he was about to say. "Kids who look and act differently in the orphanage would be bullied by their peers and are neglected by their caregivers. And even though no heteromorph quirks have a 82% chance of getting adopted, heteromorphs only get adopted 12% of the time. I refuse to be stuck in that horrid system."
Tensei then closed his mouth, looking at the boy with a mix of pity and disbelief.
"How did you survive as a four-year-old on the streets?" Naomasa asked, his voice low.
"I ate parts of my body so I wouldn't starve and used the public water fountains to quench my thirst."
"You did all of this at four years old." Naomasa's face was etched slightly, horrified.
"I had to," Izuku answered solemnly.
Tsukauchi quickly regained his composure. "When did you join the Underground Masquerade? We heard rumors about a new Masquerade, and we also heard a few rumors about you."
"Two weeks after, I was kicked out of my home."
"You joined a fighting ring when you were four years old?! Izuku, how old are you now?!"
"I'm fourteen years old."
The detective looked at Izuku, praying that he was lying, but once again…
'TRUTH'
Naomasa leaned back in his chair, completely stunned at the boy, which confirmed to the two pro heroes that the pink-haired boy wasn't lying.
"Ok, brat." Gran Torino finally got off the wall, irritated, and finally asked Izuku a question. "Why did you do all of this? You could have robbed banks or stolen from people to make money easily. Instead, you join an underground fighting ring when you probably only awakened your quirk at most a year ago. Why did you fight for years in the Masquerade, even though you could have been strong enough to start your own gang to make endsmeat? And finally, why did you save that couple instead of attacking me and escaping, never to be seen again?"
Izuku paused, for the first time since he got into the room, he looked away from Tsukauchi, thinking about what to say to Gran Torino. Finally, Izuku looked at Naomasa, saying, "I didn't save that couple, Gran Torino."
"WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT, KID!? I CLEARLY SAW THAT WAS ONE OF YOU SLASHES—?!"
"Wait," Tsukauchi interrupted, raising a hand. "He is telling the truth."
"WHAT?!" Gran Torino said in shock. "That can't be possible? BRAT, that was your quirk that did that, right? I may be old, but those were the kids' slashes."
Izuku then spoke up again. "Those slashes aren't my quirk."
Gran Torino looked at Tsukauchi despairingly, waiting for him to tell him that the kid was lying, but the detective sporadically replied, "You're telling the truth!? But how? If you didn't fire the slashes, where did they come from!?"
Izuku noticed that both Gran Torino and Tsukauchi both looked at each other for a second, like they were nervous about something, while Ingenium was only a bit confused by him. Nevertheless, Izuku asks an interesting question. "Detective Tsukauchi, can I use an aspect of my quirk?"
Naomasa looked back at Izuku, still a little shaken but now confused, questioned the boy. "Are you going to try to use your quirk to attempt to escape?" Tsukauchi asked, making sure the four-armed boy wouldn't use their panic to make a quick getaway."
"I won't," Izuku replied
Five seconds later, Tsukauchi pulled out his radio to page the people outside of the room. "I permitted Ryomen Sukuna to activate his quirk. If his heart rate spikes dramatically, you have permission to shock him."
Suddenly, on the right side of Izuku's face, a small, secondary mouth formed.
"My quirk is called Cursed Energy. Besides creating mouths and eyes around my body, I can use the negative emotions and energy in my body to strengthen or heal it. That's why most of the injuries that I have received from Gran Torino have faded. This mouth is my brother. In the womb, my brother and I's bodies combined, resulting in us sharing a body. His quirk lets him fire invisible slashes at will. He was the one who saved that couple, and the reason why I only fought in the Masquerade for money."
'So his brother's quirk is like an improved long-range version of Kaniko's,' Detective Tsukauchi deduced.
The three adults all looked at the mouth, inspecting it closely as if it were a foreign object.
"CAN YOU GUYS QUIT STARING AT ME!" Wasuke shouted, getting a bit flustered. "YOU'RE CREEPING ME THE HELL OUT!"
The adults honored his request, backing off and pointing their gaze directly back at Izuku. Gran Torino and Tsukauchi noticeably calm down.
"As I was saying," Izuku continued. "Wasuke was the one who kept me from going astray. I wanted to curse the world for making me have a miserable life, but Wasuke's presence was the one blessing that made me want to save it. He convinced me to try to become a hero and apply for a hero school so our cursed lives could have meaning. I wanted to steal from people in order to make money, but my brother didn't let me. That's why I kept on fighting in the Masquerade. Sure, I liked fighting in the rings against tough opponents, and I like having money to use for my expenses, but I only stayed in the Masquerade to get enough money to get into a shitty hero school. I'm sorry about what happened during the warehouse raid. Wasuke tried to convince me not to go, but ambition overcame reason. Because of that, we wasted all of the blood, sweat, and tears of fighting in those deathmatches by gambling it all away for a shortcut. I'm sorry all of your efforts were wasted, little brother, but I am guilty and will accept any punishment that you will give."
Wasuke looked his brother in the eye, shocked at all of the praise that he gave him. He had always thought that he was a burden to him. In their first lifetime together, Izuku discarded him so he wouldn't be affected by the curse of twins. Now in this lifetime, Wasuke only existed as a way to hinder Izuku's progress with shrine by only giving him full access to its abilities. When they are resting at home, Izuku always seems to just pay him no mind. Hell, even when Izuku is fighting, he demands that Wasuke not speak for him to focus on the fight. Knowing that his brother actually cared about him and held him in such high regard almost made him want to cry.
The two pro heroes, after hearing Izuku's speech, then looked at Tsukauchi to make sure that the former King of the Masquerade was telling the truth, but the look of sympathy in his eyes and the heartfelt speech from the pink-haired boy were all the two heroes needed to know that the boy wasn't lying.
Tensei was the first one to speak up, "Do you know where Shogo and Silencer could be? I was trying to chase them down, Shogo's obstacles and Silencer quirk allowing her to make sharp turns made me lose them."
"Sorry," Izuku said in an earnest tone. "Shogo only approached me the night before the job, and I don't have a phone, so you can't track him. Even then, Shogo is probably smart enough to dump his phone after the bust. What about Shio? Can't you guys ask him?"
"He refused to cooperate," Naomasa replied. "All he did when he woke up was cuss us out, saying 'you heroic bastards would never find them'." Naomasa then looked Izuku directly in the eyes and asked him. "Have you ever killed anyone before?"
Izuku paused for a second, then replied. "I only cut off some of the more vile fighters' limbs in the ring, but I haven't killed anyone this lifetime."
'TRUTH'
"So that's what happened to Whipcord," Tsukauchi said. "Someone found him in a dumpster and reported him back to the police. He was a wallowing mess, and he confessed to all of his crimes. Is there a reason why you cut him up? And also, why did you say you haven't killed anyone in this lifetime?"
"I only dismembered people like him because of sex trafficked women and children. If it wasn't for me, he could have kept doing that for years. For all the crimes that I have committed, I don't regret hurting people like Whipcord one bit …Also, I believe in reincarnation."
'TRUTH'
The detective then finished writing down everything Izuku said in his notepad. "All right, thank you for the confession, Izuku. We will use this information to help look for the other two escaped villains." Tsukauchi then looked up from his notepad and blankly stared at Izuku. "Now then, time to discuss your sentence."
Izuku's four eyes then looked down to the floor, ready to serve any verdict placed upon him.
"You're free from all of your charges."
This time, it was Izuku and Wasuke's turn to look up in shock. "WHAT?!" Izuku said a little bit too loudly. "But what about all of my crimes?"
Naomasa explained. "Sure, you may have fought in the Underground Masquerade and the drug bus,t but besides cutting off a few heinous villains' limbs, you didn't hurt anyone who really deserved it. Even in the warehouse, you only protected Shogo and didn't engage in fighting off any of the officers."
"After you were knocked out last night," Ingenium elaborated. "Gran Torino already approached me, and Tsukauchi was wondering if there was anything we could do about your sentence. Since I already run a rehabilitation program that helps turn vigilantes and people who missed their shot into heroes, he asked me to come to your interrogation to see if there was anything I could do. And since you're still a minor, it will be easier to get rid of most of the charges."
Izuku then looked to his right to see Gran Torino look away from him, crossing his arms. Izuku's shocked face turned into a sly grin as he said. "I didn't know you turned into a softie at your old age, gramps."
"SHUT IT, BRAT! IF YOU WANT TO SPEND THE REST OF YOUR LIFE ROTTING IN A CELL, BE MY GUEST!"
"Here's the deal," Tsukauchi said, stopping the two's bickering. "If you tell us everything about the Underground Masquerade and operations, we will let you go. However, there are three conditions to this arrangement. This is so you would have a clean slate, and no one would know about your criminal past. One, you will take the UA entrance exam in ten months, so you can fulfill your dream of becoming a pro hero. Only Principal Nezu will know about your situation, so Ingenium and Gran Torino will not be able to recommend you due to your criminal background. Two, during the ten months leading up to the entrance exam, you will not be able to use your quirk. You're already further ahead than most participants; you don't need any more training.
Izuku, listening carefully to Tsukauchi's demands, asked. "Can you change that part so that I am allowed to manipulate and create mouths and eyes with cursed energy, and also be able to heal? I wouldn't be able to communicate with my brother without cursed energy, and I don't see any reason why I can't heal myself."
Tsukauchi, not even bothering to think it over, replied, "Deal. And finally, three, you are moving in and taking Gran Torino's last name, Torino, in the Yamanashi Prefecture."
"Wait a second, WHY DO I GET STUCK WITH THE BRAT!" Gran Torino said angrily.
"Because since you're retired, you're the only one with nothing to do." Naomasa retorted. "Plus, you were the one who wanted Izuku to stay out of jail; now you have to deal with the consequences."
Gran Torino then scoffed out in annoyance and then looked at Izuku. "Fine then, but you better behave, kid. If you break any of these rules, I'm tossing you out."
Izuku smirked and nodded at Gran Torino's demands. 'This is going to be an interesting ten months."
Thursday, April 5, at 10:15 am, Gran Torino's Apartment, Yamanashi Prefecture
"...We are continuing our top story this morning out of the Hosu district. The Hosu Police Department, in a joint task force operation with the Ingenium Agency, Fat Gum Agency, Mirko, and the Hosu Hero Union, has officially confirmed the total shutdown of the notorious illegal fighting circuit known as the 'Underground Masquerade'."
Inside of Gran Torino's apartment in the Yamanashi Prefecture, sits Izuku Torino watching a news report of the Underground Masquerade raid on Gran Torino's TV. He was dressed in a modernized jinbei. The dark navy fabric with its white cross-hatch pattern was a rare luxury; it was the first garment he'd ever owned that actually accounted for his secondary limbs. The side seams had been tailored to provide four distinct sleeves, allowing his primary and secondary arms to move without the fabric bunching or tearing across his back. The wrap-around front of the Jinbei sat comfortably over his broad chest, providing enough room for the mouth on his stomach to remain hidden but uncompressed.
"I can't believe they organized a raid that quickly," Wasuke commented on the left side of Izuku's cheek. Even though the mouth on Izuku wasn't compressed, it still felt weird for the two to talk without looking at each other.
"They had to," Izuku replied, his gaze fixed on the screen. "Even if they kept my arrest secret, the Masquerade is a hive of gossip. Someone would have warned the others. By moving now, they minimized the chance of a counter-attack."
Due to Izuku's knowledge of the Masquerade's secret codes and passages, which he had acquired over the years, the police only needed to gather sufficient information to initiate the raid. Since the hero commission didn't want to repeat the same disaster of when they raided the last Masquearde due to the trigger, they brought in outside pro-heroes to compensate for the injured ones during the drug bust.
However, because of Izuku had to tell them everything about the Masquerade, he had to hand over all of the yen that he and Wasuke scrabbed together. Now, his only worldly possessions were a few changes of clothes and his weathered hero and villain analysis notebooks, which were in his room.
The news report continues, "The raid resulted in over eighty arrests," the reporter continued. "Police Chief Tsuragamae stated that this marks the end of a long-term investigation. 'This was a hub for unlicensed activity,' the Chief stated. 'Its closure is a victory for public safety.'"
As the news broadcast airs, Wasuke blabbers. "I hope Kiroku made it out. He was such a nice guy, and he was only there for the money."
"Everyone was there for the money, Wasuke," Izuku remarked coldly. "The more people behind bars, the safer our secret is. If any of them recognized me as Ryomen Sukuna, our chance at UA would vanish instantly. Kiroku's Quirk means he has actual proof of our existence at the Masquerade."
"If you were so worried about getting recognized, then how come you didn't tell Detective Tsukauchi everything about Giran?" Wasuke wondered. "Besides, maybe Kiroku, he is the only one who actually knows who the hell you are."
"If I told them about Giran's hideouts, he would know it was me," Izuku explained. I'm the only one who fought in the Masquerade and has also done work for Giran. If he had lost both his main sources of income, he wouldn't stop hunting us down until we were dead. Plus, Tsukauchi's only questions about him were: 'how did you learn about the Underground Masquerade' and 'do you know anything about him that is important to the case'. We got lucky he didn't ask us anything specific about the smug bastard."
The screen flickered as the mood of the news report changed. "In brighter news, our Number One Hero and the Symbol of Peace, All Might, was spotted moments ago by fans walking on the streets of I-Island alongside the world-renowned scientist, David Shi—"
CRASH!
The front door slammed open with a force that made the tea set rattle. Gran Torino—now officially Izuku's guardian—zipped into the room like a yellow bullet. Instead of landing on the floor, he slammed directly onto the boxy TV, his heavy boots shattering the screen in a shower of sparks and plastic.
"WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT FOR OLD MAN?!" Wasuke yelled, his voice erupting from Izuku's cheek. WE WERE WATCHING THAT?!"
"Can it, brat!" Gran Torino retorted, standing atop the ruined television like a gargoyle. "You guys have better things to do than rot your brains with the news." In his left hand, Sorahiko had a bag full of groceries, mainly pastry, to eat for lunch. But in his right hand, Gran Torino tossed a thick, stapled packet of papers onto Izuku's lap. The cover read: UA High School Entrance Exam: Heroics & General Education Practice Test.
"You guys have got two hours to finish one of these," Gran Torino said, hopping off the broken TV and heading toward the kitchen. "Nezu sent these over. It contains the last ten actual exams. If you can't pass this, you won't even make it to the practical portion."
Izuku watched as Gran Torino walked away. "Wasuke, is it just me, or does Gran Torino remind me of you when you were older?"
Wasuke then looks at Izuku, baffled that he would even say anything like that. "You think I look short and ugly?"
"I'm talking about how you act," Izuku clarified. "You and Gran Torino may act like pricks, but deep down you guys have a heart of gold."
Wasuke paused, then grumbled. "Maybe we act a bit similar, but at least when I was old, I wasn't so—"
"WHAT HAPPENED TO THE TV!?"
"...Senile."
Izuku sighed, opening the packet. "All right. We just need to pass this, and then we're fine. How hard can it be?"
Two Hours Later
"YOU TWO GOT AN 13%!" Gran Torino's roar shook the very foundation of the house.
Izuku sat with his head in his primary hands, staring at the floor in absolute shame. The red ink on the paper looked like a massacre.
"The questions were harder than we anticipated," Izuku answered, his voice small.
"Harder?! How do you get every single multiple-choice question wrong?!" Gran Torino slammed his hand on the table. "Even if you were guessing, probability says you should have hit more than this! Why didn't you just pick 'C' for everything like you pick False on the True/False section?!"
Wasuke spoke up, his voice trembling with uncharacteristic nerves. "I thought... I thought wo got them right."
"GOD, I can't believe you two are this stupid—"
"HEY!" Izuku yelled back, his lower eyes flashing with hints of anger. "I'M NOT AN IDIOT, OLD MAN!"
"Well, even a middle-schooler would get at least 30% on this!"
"WELL, GOOD FOR THEM!" Izuku stood up, his massive frame casting a shadow over the room. "IN CASE YOU FORGOT, I NEVER WENT TO SCHOOL! I'VE BEEN ON THE STREETS SINCE I WAS FOUR YEARS OLD! I NEVER EVEN STEPPED A FOOT INTO A KINDERGARTEN, BUT I GUESS YOU'RE TOO OLD TO REMEMBER THAT, YOU SENILE OLD BASTARD!"
The room went deathly silent. Gran Torino's eyes widened, the anger instantly draining from his face. He looked at the four-armed boy—a titan who could level a warehouse but didn't know the basics of a classroom.
"...Sorry, kid," Gran Torino said softly, placing a weathered hand on Izuku's massive lower right arm. "I forgot. I forgot the world didn't give you the same start as everyone else."
He looked at the 8% score again, but this time, he didn't see stupidity; he saw a gap that needed to be bridged. "I promise you, Izuku. We'll do whatever it takes. You're going to be a hero, even if I have to teach you every damn book in Japan myself."
"...Thanks, Gramps," Izuku muttered.
Huh,' Wasuke thought silently as he watched the two make amends. 'I guess I and that old frat really are more alike than I thought.'
7:26 pm
"I'm such an idiot," Tensei Iida sighed, his voice echoing through the quiet of his office at the Ingenium Agency. He leaned back in his leather chair, staring up at the sterile ceiling lights as he rubbed his temples. "I've been so focused on the logistics of his rehabilitation that I completely overlooked the basic fact that Izuku has never been in school in his life."
On the other end of the line, the sound of a whistling kettle provided a sharp, domestic contrast to Tensei's professional stress.
"It's fine, Iida," Gran Torino's gravelly voice crackled through the speaker. He was in his kitchen in Yamanashi, leaning against the counter. "In your program, you're used to dealing with vigilantes who skipped out on their licenses—not kids who were discarded by the system before they could learn their multiplication tables."
Tensei shifted in his chair, a pen clicking rhythmically in his hand. "Give it to me straight, Sorahiko. How deep is the hole we're digging him out of?"
"The kid is a contradiction," Gran Torino grunted, the sound of a cup hitting the table audible over the line. "His vocabulary is advanced—scary even—and for some reason, he knows more about the politics of the Heian Era than most university professors. He knows a little English; however, it probably comes from overhearing characters from movies and TV shows. But everything else? Math, modern science, hero ethics? He's hovering somewhere around a fourth-grade level."
Tensei winced. "Fourth grade? We only have ten months."
"He's not dumb, Tensei. Far from it," the old man clarified. "A kid doesn't manage a street budget and survive in the ring since age four if he's an idiot. He's got the analytical mind of a strategist; his notebooks on quirks are more detailed than some police files I've seen. He just doesn't have the foundation. He doesn't need a drill sergeant right now—he needs a tutor."
"Can you handle it?" Tensei asked hopefully.
"I can polish his History and English, and I'm already working with Wasuke to beat some common sense into Izuku's ethics," Gran Torino sighed. "But don't ask me to explain calculus or molecular biology. I'm a hero, not a physicist. Can Nezu send one of the staff members?"
"That's impossible," Tensei replied, looking at his crowded schedule. "Between the upcoming curriculum changes and new upgrades at UA, everyone is stretched thin. Nezu is keeping this case extremely close to the chest. He won't pull a student from their classes to help, and he can't spare a teacher without raising eyebrows."
Gran Torino slammed a hand onto his kitchen table, the rattle of the teapot sharp over the phone. "Damnit! We can't let his future go up in smoke because of a math textbook. If he fails the written exam, the practical won't matter. We'll have failed him."
Tensei fell silent, his mind racing through the roster of people he trusted—people who understood the Ingenium rehabilitation program and the specific pressure of the UA entrance exams. An idea began to take shape, a face coming to mind that fit the criteria perfectly.
"Wait," Tensei said, his voice gaining a sudden spark of energy. "What if I bring in someone who is already intimately familiar with the UA entrance exam? Someone who knows exactly how to bridge that gap?"
Gran Torino went quiet on the other end, considering the possibilities. "I'm listening."
"He's smart, incredibly disciplined, and he's spent enough time around the agency to understand the weight of responsibility," Tensei explained, a fond smile finally tugging at his lips. "To be honest, he's a bit... rigid. He treats a study schedule like a high-stakes mission, and he has a habit of chopping his arms through the air when he gets passionate about proper etiquette. But his academic record is flawless, and he's nearly the same age as Izuku."
Tensei leaned forward, his decision made. "He needs to see that the world isn't as orderly as a classroom, and Izuku needs someone who won't let him cut a single corner. If anyone can get Izuku Torino through the UA written exam, it's a member of the Iida family who takes 'excellence' as a personal challenge."
Gran Torino, thinking over Ingenium's offer, responds. " Well, if he can handle your engines, I suppose he can handle one stubborn brat. Send him over."
Friday, April 6, at 4 pm, Torino Residences, Yamanashi Prefecture
Izuku sat in his room, the wooden floorboards groaning under his weight. He was dressed casually in a sleeveless red compression shirt and heavy black cargo pants, his four muscular arms currently occupied with a single, daunting enemy: a middle-school history textbook.
He wasn't frustrated by the content itself—the rise of Destro and the Meta-Liberation Army was tactically fascinating—but the sheer volume of memorization required for the entrance exam was grating on his nerves.
Even though Izuku had inhabited the bodies of Yuji Itadori and Megumi Fushiguro, but their academic records were as useful as a blunt blade. When he was within Yuji, school had been a blur of boredom; the boy was naturally athletic but academically hopeless, and Izuku had spent most of those hours asleep within the "vessel," completely indifferent to the lectures. Megumi had been far more intelligent, but the boy's memories were saturated with his sister, depression, and the weight of the Zenin clan—he had cared so little for his mundane education that the details of mathematics and science had long since faded into the background of his tactical mind.
Wasuke also couldn't really help Izuku at all, either. In his last life, Wasuke worked as a chief and had to change location twice because the locals didn't like his personality. Even though Wasuke went to school, it was such a long time ago that he doesn't remember how to do most of the work, and even if he did remember something, most of what he remembers is outdated in this day and age.
Izuku reached out to turn the page, but before his hand could touch the paper, a sharp, blood-curdling scream echoed from downstairs.
Izuku froze. He slammed the textbook shut and moved with a blur of speed, descending the steep wooden stairs in three heavy bounds.
He burst into the living room and stopped dead.
Standing in the center of the room was a boy around his age, wearing a crisp, perfectly ironed school uniform and glasses that seemed to catch every glint of light. He was frozen in a pose of pure, theatrical horror, his hands held up as if to ward off a ghost.
To Izuku's soul-perception, the newcomer's quirk factor was an immersive domain of mechanical perfection. It looked like the blue-haired boy was standing within the hollowed-out block of a colossal V6 engine. The air was thick with the scent of high-octane fuel and the scorching heat of frictionless lubricant. All around him, massive silver cylinders rose and fell with a rhythmic, deafening thunder that vibrated through his very bones. Every surface was a blinding, polished chrome—not a single speck of carbon buildup or wasted heat was permitted. It was a realm of absolute, rigid order, where pistons fired in a sequence so precise it felt like a law of physics. It shared similarities to Ingenium soul, but where the turbo hero's engine was a smooth, seasoned hum, the boy in front of Izuku was a raw, screaming turbine, desperate to redline.
On the floor, sprawled face-down near the low table, was Gran Torino. The old man was motionless, his body covered in blood and his tongue lolling out slightly, looking for all the world like a discarded rag doll.
"AH! THE HORROR! THE UNTHINKABLE HORROR!" the newcomer shrieked, his voice cracking with intensity. He turned his head, his gaze landing on the towering, four-armed Izuku. His eyes were wide behind his lenses. "YOU! YOU FIEND! WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO GRAN TORINO?!"
The boy's legs—specifically his calves—seemed to hum with mechanical potential. He pointed a finger at Izuku, his hand chopping through the air with rigid, 90-degree movements. "I arrived to fulfill my duty as a tutor, only to find a murder scene! Explain yourself, villain! Did you strike down this veteran in his own home?!"
Izuku stared at him with all four eyes, his expression flat and unimpressed. He looked down at the "corpse" on the floor and then back at the panicked boy.
"Get up, you senile old bat," Izuku growled, his voice a deep, vibrating rumble. "You're scaring the guest."
Gran Torino's body suddenly twitched. With a cackle that sounded like dry leaves, the old man flipped himself upright, landing perfectly on his feet and dusting off his tracksuit.
"Gah! You ruined it, Izuku!" Gran Torino wheezed, wiping off the ketchup from his costume. "I wanted to see if the Iida kid's engines would stall or if he'd actually try to kick you through the wall!"
The boy in the glasses stood frozen, his arm still extended in a mid-air chop. His face turned a vibrant shade of crimson."G-Gran Torino! You... you were merely jesting? To stage such a gruesome scene for the sake of a prank is a gross violation of heroic decorum! It is utterly beneath the dignity of a Pro Hero!"
"Relax, Iida," Gran Torino said, hopping onto the couch. "If you're going to teach this brat, you need to be ready for anything. Izuku, this is Tenya Iida. He's the younger brother of Ingenium and the only person that he knows with a stick far enough up his ass to actually force you to learn algebra."
Tenya Iida immediately straightened his uniform, took a deep breath, and bowed so deeply his forehead nearly hit his knees. "I apologize for the outburst! I am Tenya Iida! My brother spoke highly of your... unique circumstances! It is an honor to assist in the academic preparation of another potential UA candidate!"
He snapped back upright, his focus instantly shifting to the task at hand as he produced a stack of papers and a sharp mechanical pencil from his bag. "We shall begin immediately with the most fundamental of logical disciplines: Mathematics! A hero who cannot calculate load-bearing limits or the trajectory of an airborne civilian is a hero who invites disaster! Please, clear the table! We have no time to waste if we are to achieve numerical excellence!"
Izuku looked at the boy's intense, chopping hands and then at Gran Torino, who was walking upstairs, eating a pastry.
"This is going to be a long ten months," Wasuke muttered from Izuku's cheek.
"Tell me about it," Izuku replied, pulling out a chair.
6:00 PM
The sun was beginning its slow descent in the Yamanashi Prefecture. Inside the Gran Torino's apartment, the air was thick with a different kind of intensity.
Tenya Iida adjusted his glasses for the twentieth time that hour, staring down at the latest set of complex equations Izuku had completed. His hand, as if possessing a mind of its own, gave a sharp, rhythmic chop through the air that whistled in the quiet room.
"Incredible! Absolutely stellar!" Tenya announced, his voice booming with the authority of a drill sergeant. "Your grasp of quadratic functions and their application to kinetic trajectories has improved exponentially in just two hours! I must admit, Torino, after our initial math session, I feared the gap might be too wide to bridge in ten months. But your progress is nothing short of exemplary!"
Izuku leaned back in his chair. All four of his eyes looked heavy with the weight of numbers and logic.
"You can't give all of the credit to me, Iida," Izuku said, his voice a low rumble. "You are actually not that bad of a teacher yourself. You actually explain why the numbers move the way they do."
Wasuke's mouth formed on Izuku's shoulder, a grin stretching across the skin. "Yeah, Glasses. You're loud, and you move like a broken robot, but you're a hell of a lot better than those dusty textbooks. I actually understood that last bit about the parabolas."
Before Tenya could respond to the praise, a deep, resonant growl vibrated through the floorboards. It didn't come from Izuku's throat; it originated from the center of his torso, where the large, toothy mouth on his abdomen was practically snarling with an empty-stomached fury.
Tenya straightened his posture, his engines clicking in his calves. "Ah! It seems like your engine requires some fuel! A hero cannot achieve academic excellence on an empty stomach. Since we have surpassed today's benchmarks, I suggest we venture into the Yamanshi for something to eat. My treat, Torino! We shall celebrate your first successful step toward UA!"
Izuku stood, his massive 6'8" frame nearly brushing the rafters of the old house. "As long as you're paying, I'm fine with whatever."
6:30 PM, Yamanashi Streets
The two boys walked down the quiet, sloping streets toward the heart of the small mountain village. The contrast between them was comical: Tenya, walking with a rigid, upright posture in his perfectly pressed school uniform, and Izuku, a four-armed giant in Japanese streetwear looking like a delinquent, his pink hair catching the last rays of the sun.
"Torino," Tenya began, his engines humming with a low, idling purr as they walked. "I have been reflecting on our arrangement. My brother and Gran Torino have tasked me with your academic curriculum, but I find myself curious—who is assisting you with your physical training for the practical? With only ten months remaining, we must ensure your mind and your body are at their peaks to handle the entrance exam."
Izuku kept his gaze on the distant horizon, his secondary arms swinging loosely at his sides. "They told me not to train, Iida. In fact, for these ten months, I'm strictly forbidden from using my quirk for combat or physical conditioning."
Tenya skidded to a stop, his glasses sliding down his nose as he stared up at the giant. "Forbidden?! But the practical exam is the most rigorous, high-stakes portion of the entire entrance process! Thousands of candidates spend years honing their quirks to prepare for those ten minutes! How can you hope to compete if you aren't even using your quirk at all in these next ten months?"
"They said I'm too far ahead," Izuku said flatly, looking back at Tenya with all four eyes. There was no arrogance in his voice, only a heavy, weary truth. "They said if I trained my quirk anymore, I would dominate the practical exam without breaking a sweat. So if I just focus on my studies, I pretty much automatically pass."
Tenya stood in stunned silence. Who exactly is Izuku Torino? he wondered. To be ordered by a veteran like Gran Torino to stop training because he was already too powerful... it defied every meritocratic ideal Tenya had ever been taught.
They reached a small, traditional restaurant nestled between two cedar trees. A weathered wooden sign hung above the door: The Mountain's Heart. As they stepped inside, the warm, comforting scent of savory beef broth and steamed rice filled the air.
"Welcome," a middle-aged man behind the counter said, his voice professional and welcoming—until his eyes landed on Izuku. The man's face instantly hardened, his eyes cooling into chips of ice. "What do you want to order, young man?"
Tenya, oblivious to the sudden chill, marched to a table and sat down, his movements as precise as ever. "The beef stew, please! It is my personal favorite and provides an excellent balance of protein and electrolytes!"
"I'll have the same," Izuku said, reaching for a menu to see the prices.
The owner grunted, his gaze lingering with undisguised distaste on Izuku's extra limbs and eyes. He scribbled on a pad with aggressive strokes. "Beef stew for the schoolboy is 800 yen. For the... big guy... it's 2,500 yen."
Izuku froze, his primary hands gripping the edge of the table until the wood creaked. "The menu on the wall says 800 yen."
The owner leaned over the counter, his voice dropping into a snarl of blatant bigotry. "That's the price for human beings. For things with extra limbs and eyes, there's a 'service surcharge.' You people take up too much space, you're an eyesore for the regular customers, and you eat three times what a normal person does. Take it or leave it, mutant."
A heavy, suffocating tension filled the restaurant. Izuku's lower eyes narrowed, a flash of the "King of Curses" old, terrifying malice flickering in his gaze. The air around him seemed to grow cold.
"Torino, please," Tenya whispered, his voice trembling with distress. He quickly pulled out his wallet, his hands moving with frantic energy. "I will pay for it! Please, let us not allow this ignorance to ruin our evening. It's my treat, remember?"
As they sat down with their steaming bowls, Izuku stared at the beef, his appetite struggling against the familiar sting of prejudice. "I can't believe this," he muttered, his voice a low, bitter vibration. "If I ever see that old man again, I will make him beg for forgiveness."
Tenya looked at his friend, his heart heavy with a realization of a world he had never had to face from his position of privilege. "Even if he has biased views, can't just hurt or threaten people as a hero Torino. Still, I had no idea the discrimination was so blatant in this region. When we are heroes, we shall ensure that such—"
BOOM!
The front door of The Mountain's Heart didn't just open; it was vaporized. A blast of high-pressure air and heat shattered the wood into splinters, sending a cloud of dust and debris into the dining room.
Eight figures stormed through the smoke. They were a bizarre, walking arsenal of weaponized mutations. Their leader was a tall man whose forearms had been replaced by rotating, metallic gun-barrels that hissed with heat. To his left stood a female villain whose skin shimmered like a polished grenade, a male villain with katana blades coming out of his arms, and a man with a massive, industrial flamethrower tank fused to his spine. Behind them, a woman with long, cable-like whips for arms, a man with a heavy crossbow integrated into his shoulder, and a hulking figure with spinning chainsaw blades where his hands should be. Finally, a lean man stood at the back, a quiver of jagged, metallic spears strapped to his back.
"Nobody moves!" the leader with the gun-arms roared, his voice muffled by a heavy steel mask. "We're the Weapon Gang, and we're here for the register and everything in your pockets! Make it quick, or we start turning this quirkist place into a scrap yard!"
Izuku didn't even look up from his stew. He didn't need to. He recognized the silhouette of Gunner. They were a mid-tier mercenary group that used to take dirty jobs in the Hosu shipyards. None of them was a threat compared to him.
"Torino, stay back!" Tenya hissed as he hid his head under the dining table. "We must call the authorities! We are students; we cannot engage without licenses!"
"Don't bother, Iida," Izuku said, calmly picking up a piece of beef with his chopsticks. "These people are nothing to be scared of."
Izuku stood up, ignoring Tenya's frantic warnings. He didn't adopt a combat stance. He simply walked toward the counter, moving right past the Flamethrower villain and the Whip woman as if they were furniture. He headed straight for the owner, who was now cowering behind the register.
"Hey," Izuku said, his voice a deep, bored rumble that cut through the leader's threats. "Where's my extra rice? If I'm paying 2,500 yen, I want my money's worth. I'm still hungry."
Gunner turned, his eyes bulging behind his mask. "Are you deaf, you four-armed freak?! Get on the floor before I put a hole in you!"
Izuku didn't even glance at him. "I'm talking to the cook. The customer is always right, isn't that what you say?"
"I said SIT!" the leader roared. He raised his right arm, the barrels spinning with a mechanical whine, and fired point-blank.
BANG
A high-caliber round struck Izuku through the back of his neck. Tenya let out a scream of pure horror, the sound echoing in the small room. The owner ducked, covering his head. Tenya thought he had just watched his friend be executed.
But Izuku didn't fall. He didn't even stagger.
Instead, a faint, hissing white steam began to emit from the gunshot. He slowly turned his head, his four eyes glowing with a terrifying, dull light. As the Gunner looked up to see a bullet hole in Izuku's neck
"That hurt," Izuku said, his voice devoid of emotion.
The leader panicked. "What are you?! DIE!" He unleashed a frantic barrage, both arm-barrels spinning at maximum velocity. He emptied both clips into Izuku's chest and torso in a deafening spray of lead. Ripping through the four-armed boy's shirt.
BANG-BANG-BANG-BANG-BANG-BANG
The bullets didn't hit the floor. Suddenly, dozens of small mouths manifested all over Izuku's arms, chest, and shoulders. They snapped shut in mid-air with the precision of a trap, catching every single bullet between their teeth.
Izuku stood there for a heartbeat, a dozen mouths holding on to the hot lead. The Gun-Leader stared in paralyzed silence as his entire magazine was consumed by the boy's skin.
"My turn," Izuku said.
The small mouths on Izuku then disappear as the large mouth on his stomach suddenly opens wide, revealing rows of Izuku's big, toothy grin.
BANG
A deafening mechanical clack echoed as the mouth spat the bullets back at the leader in a single, high-velocity burst. The lead slugs, reinforced by the pressure of Izuku's internal musculature and cursed energy in his mouth, hit the leader squarely in his chest and stomach. He was launched backward, crashing through the back wall of the restaurant, through the cedar tree, and landing in a heap in the alleyway, unconscious but alive.
The rest of the gang lunged, their shock turning into desperate aggression.
The spear-villain reached into his quiver and threw a jagged metallic projectile with terminal velocity. Izuku didn't dodge. He caught the spear mid-air with one of his secondary hands, the metal singing as he gripped it. Simultaneously, the crossbow villain fired a rapid-fire volley of bolts.
Izuku's response was a blur of multi-limb coordination. He reached out with his upper left hand, grabbed the nearby whip-villain by her ankle, and swung her through the air like a human shield. The bolts thudded harmlessly into her heavy, armored gear. While she was mid-air, a mouth manifested on Izuku's left shoulder and spat one of the captured bullets from earlier. The projectile struck the crossbow-villain's weapon precisely, shattering the firing mechanism.
"He's using the bullets!" the katana-villain screamed, charging with a horizontal slash.
Izuku jumped, a vertical leap that cleared the table and the rafters. While at the apex of his jump, two mouths sprouted from the palms of his lower hands. They fired two bullets downward like miniature cannons, the recoil assisting his air-time. The bullets struck the floor at the Katana-villain's feet, causing the man to stumble into the whip-villain.
As Izuku landed, the bomb-villain, whose skin was beginning to glow orange, and the flamethrower-villain closed in from both sides. Izuku acted with brutal efficiency. He grabbed them both by their collars with his primary hands. With a grunt of effort, he threw both of them outside of the restaurant, the bomb-villain first and then the flamethrower-villain second. As the two hit each other, flames from the flamethrower hit the bomb villain's orange skin, causing a mini explosion. The two were knocked out instantly by their own overlapping payloads.
The Spear-villain tried to retreat, pulling three more spears. Izuku manifested a mouth on the back of his neck. With a sharp crack, the mouth spat another bullet, hitting the Spear-villain's quiver and sending the remaining weapons scattering across the floor.
Izuku then spun the captured spear like a whirlwind. He used the blunt end to sweep the legs of the katana-villain. As the villain fell, Izuku tossed the whip-villain—still in his grip—directly onto him, tangling them both in her own whip-limbs.
Finally, the hulking chainsaw villain stepped forward. His blades were the size of industrial saws, spinning with a deafening, metallic shriek.
"You're fast, kid," the chainsaw villain growled, his voice like grinding metal. "But you're just meat and bones. My blades don't care how many arms you have. I'll carve you into pieces!"
Izuku stood his ground, the captured spear held loosely in his primary hands.
The villain roared, launching a horizontal saw-stroke. Izuku parried with the spear, the sparks flying as the saw-teeth chewed into the metal. The villain didn't stop, pulling back and thrusting his other blade toward Izuku's throat. Izuku spun, the spearhead deflecting the blade into the floor, shattering the tiles.
"Is this all?" Izuku asked, his voice chillingly calm.
"Die!" the villain screamed, bringing both saws down in a massive, overhead 'X' strike.
Izuku raised the spear horizontally to block. The noise was unbearable—the sound of high-speed steel grinding against the jagged spear shaft. For a moment, it looked like a stalemate, but the mutant leaned in, his quirk-enhanced muscles bulging as he revved the motors to their redline.
CRACK
The spear snapped in two under the concentrated pressure of the spinning blades.
The chainsaw villain laughed, a manic, wet sound. "There goes your tooth-pick! What now, big guy? Without a weapon, you're defenseless!"
Izuku didn't look bothered. He looked at the two halves of the broken spear in his upper and lower hands. "Just because a weapon is broken..."
Izuku's eyes flared. "Doesn't mean it still doesn't have its uses."
The villain lunged again, but Izuku was no longer defensive. He moved into the villain guard, his four arms working in terrifying, independent harmony. He used the jagged end of the first half to parry a saw-blade, while the second half struck the mutant's shoulder.
A mouth appeared on Izuku's left elbow, spitting a bullet directly into the mutant's eye-slit. The villain screamed, his vision clouded. Izuku didn't stop. He used the broken spears like batons, striking the vibrating chainsaw casings with a staccato rhythm.
"A chainsaw is a powerful tool," Izuku remarked as he ducked a blind swing. "But it has a fatal flaw. The chain needs tension."
A mouth manifested on Izuku's palm, spitting a cursed energy-infused bullet with enough force to sever the tensioning screw on the right saw-blade. The chain instantly flew off its guide with a violent snap, whipping across the villain's own chest.
The villain looked at his useless, spinning motor in horror. "My... my blades!"
"You're done," Izuku said.
Izuku stepped in close, all four arms gripping the two halves of the spear. He delivered a series of rapid, blurring strikes to the mutant's chest and joints. The final blow was a quadruple-thrust with the broken spears, the force lifting the massive villain off the ground and pinning his cloak to the back wall as he fell into unconsciousness.
The restaurant was silent, save for the hum of the cooling motors. Izuku hadn't taken a single scratch.
"The rice," Izuku reminded him, his voice calm. "And I'd like that 1,700 yen 'surcharge' back. I think I've provided enough 'service' for one night."
Tenya Iida stood by the table, his mouth hanging open, his hands frozen mid-chop. He looked at the shattered door, the unconscious mercenaries, and then back at Izuku, who was calmly sitting back down to finish his now lukewarm stew.
"Torino..." Tenya breathed, his voice full of a sudden, overwhelming awe that bordered on reverence. "That was... amazing. You beat all of those without taking a single hit! You utilized their own momentum, their own weapons, and even their own ammunition against them! Where did you learn how to fight like that?"
Izuku just took a quiet bite of his stew. "I've been in a lot of street fights. Plus, this food was 2,500 yen, Iida. And I really like beef stew. I wasn't going to let some low-level thugs ruin my first good meal in Yamanashi."
Wasuke popped out of Izuku's hand, asking. "Hey, Glasses, can I have your carrots? Those bullets tasted horrible."
Tenya blinked as he snapped out of his shock to see that Wasuke's hand was already eating all of his food