The sun hovered low over Dagobah Beach, casting a warm, golden haze over the scattered debris. Izuku Midoriya stood alone in the middle of the sands, grimoire in hand, fingers lightly tracing the glowing, shifting symbols etched across its cover. The ocean wind tugged gently at his sleeves, but his stance remained firm, rooted.
After everything—his confession, his parents' unwavering acceptance, the secret history of his origin—he finally felt a fragile sense of stability. Inko and Hisashi didn't understand everything. They didn't need to. What mattered was that they believed in him.
He exhaled and lowered himself to the sand.
Today wasn't for battles or experiments. Today was for control. For understanding.
For runic meditation.
I. Symbols in the Sand
Pages turned slowly as the grimoire responded to his focus. Ancient characters shimmered across the parchment, lines weaving and unraveling into new forms. Runes. Not just symbols—constructs. Tools for channeling magic through intent and emotion.
He knelt and began carving the first rune into the damp sand with the edge of his finger, watching as faint golden light pulsed beneath his hand. The rune's name echoed softly in his mind: Saelir, the Rune of Protection.
The moment he completed the symbol, a bubble of translucent energy shimmered to life around him, briefly warping the wind before settling into stillness.
Izuku gasped. "It worked…"
He tried another: Fyrhath, the Rune of Light. The glow flared too brightly, searing a symbol into the sand with more intensity than he'd intended.
"Too much focus. Too much emotion," he muttered. "It feeds off my feelings."
His grip tightened. That meant every careless flicker of doubt… every moment of fear…
Could corrupt the spell.
II. A Family Grounded in Love
That night, dinner was quiet. Comfortable. A soft background hum of togetherness.
Inko passed him another bowl of rice, smiling. "You've been out there every day lately. Are you getting stronger?"
Izuku nodded between bites. "I think I'm starting to understand the language of it now. It's… intuitive, kind of like coding with emotion."
Hisashi leaned forward. "You don't have to rush. Just because you've got this big exam coming up doesn't mean you need to push so hard."
"I know," Izuku said gently. "But I want to push. I want to be ready. For everything."
Hisashi hesitated, voice warm. "We trust you, son. Just… don't shut us out again. We're here. You don't need to carry this alone."
Izuku blinked, heart clenching. Son.
It still caught him off guard sometimes—how easily they loved him, how fiercely they believed in him despite the mystery of his arrival.
He smiled back, soft and real. "Thanks, Dad."
III. Stillness and Storm
The next day, he returned to the beach with a plan.
Meditation.
The grimoire's notes suggested that runes required not just practice—but attunement. A state of alignment between mind and magic. Emotional clarity.
He formed a wide ring of protective runes around himself, then sat cross-legged in the center. The book rested beside him, pulsing softly with life.
Eyes closed. Breath steady.
He let the wind fade. Let the world blur into silence.
One breath. Two.
Thoughts faded. The surface of his mind became still water.
And then—
A tug.
No, a pull.
His soul slipped sideways.
IV. Realms Beyond
His eyes snapped open—but the beach was gone.
He was floating.
Or maybe falling.
The sky above him was an endless fractal of light and swirling energy. Symbols pulsed in the void around him—shapes not from the grimoire but something older, deeper. Universal runes.
He twisted midair and saw planes of existence stretching beneath him like layers of stained glass. Realms.
One swirled with endless stars—a cosmic library of living constellations. Another rippled like a stormy sea of memories. He passed briefly through one where beings of pure energy whispered languages he couldn't comprehend.
Then—
A sharp jolt.
A vast black emptiness opened before him, pierced by a single eye watching through the darkness.
The Watcher.
A being beyond understanding, timeless and still.
Its eye shifted to look at him.
Izuku felt like a candle in a storm.
"This one… is not meant to be here yet."
And then—
He was yanked back.
V. Back to Breath
He awoke gasping, flat on his back in the sand, the protective runes around him broken, smoking.
The grimoire pulsed erratically at his side.
He sat up, shaking.
What the hell was that?
He hadn't meant to travel. Hadn't known he could. And the Watcher… it had seen him. Known him.
"This one is not meant to be here yet."
Yet?
He didn't understand.
And that terrified him.
But more than that—it excited him.
VI. Reflections
That night, he didn't say anything to his parents.
Not because he didn't trust them—he did.
But some things needed time. Some truths… needed to be held close until they settled.
He stood at the window of his bedroom, grimoire on the desk behind him, glowing faintly.
"I don't know what I'm becoming," he whispered to the dark. "But I won't run from it."
Far beyond the sky, in the blackness of the Watcher's realm, a voice murmured again.
"Midoriya Izuku. Marked by chaos… guided by love… watched by destiny."