Hey hope yall enjoy this it took me a bit to get how I wanted it and before anyone asks the reason their are so many nomu is because this is 3 years later then cannon so Dr.garaki has had more time to cook up his monsters and make plenty of high ends these are basically just them throwing away trash
Also 5 spot are open in class 1a open to recommendations
———
I took one step forward.
Just one.
And the world snapped.
In the space between heartbeats, between rising and falling breath, between one blink and the next—
I was standing right in front of Shigaraki.
His body didn't even have time to flinch.
My hand clamped around his throat.
His feet left the ground instantly as I lifted him with a single arm.
His eyes bulged behind the hand-mask, shock tearing across his face.
He tried to inhale—
only a dry rasp escaped.
Before he could even fight back, my other hand shot up and seized his forearm, fingers digging in with crushing force. The bones beneath my grip groaned audibly.
"Ghh—ACK—!!"
Shigaraki slapped his free hand onto my arm, fingers spreading—
"Decay you cheater!"
But before his quirk could reach my skin, the shadows answered.
A slab of darkness peeled off my forearm
detaching like a living shield and wrapped around his fingers the affected part separating, blocking the spread completely.
The decay fizzled out against the shadow barrier.
Shigaraki's eyes went wide with disbelief.
"W–what—what IS THAT!? Why isn't it—?!"
I didn't answer.
I squeezed harder.
CRACK.
A fracture spidered down his arm.
He screamed.
The sound barely left his throat before—
The main Nomu slammed into me like a truck.
The impact tore Shigaraki from my grip and drove me across the plaza, smashing me through a cracked section of flooring. Dust and debris exploded upward as the ground cratered beneath my back.
Even then, the shadows cushioned me, sliding beneath my spine before the stone could break me again.
I rose without hesitation.
No pain.
No fear.
No mercy.
Shigaraki staggered on unsteady legs, gasping desperately for air, clutching his throat and his cracked arm.
He looked afraid.
"D–Damn it…!" he choked out, voice breaking.
"What IS he—?!"
His panic flipped into rage.
"DON'T JUST STAND THERE! KILL THAT CHEATING HACKER!"
The remaining Nomu roared in unison and charged.
And was still burning with wrath, still staring at Shigaraki like the only thing that existed was making him suffer
The six remaining Nomu charged.
I met them halfway.
A shadow erupted from my fist, shaping itself mid-swing into a jagged blade. I sliced through the first Nomu's arm and torso in one smooth arc. The creature fell apart before its roar even finished.
The second leapt at me.
A spear of solid darkness burst from the ground, impaling it through the chest and pinning it in the air like an insect on a needle.
The third tried to flank me.
I didn't turn.
A tendril of shadow lashed out from my back, whipping through its neck. Its head rolled across the tile.
The fourth grabbed my shoulder—
or tried to.
My cloak of shadows reacted before I did, hardening into a sharp ridge that split its hand in half. I stepped past it and brought a shadow-formed edge down its spine. It dropped without a sound.
The fifth and sixth attacked together—huge, fast, coordinated.
It didn't matter.
I extended my hands, and two enormous constructs formed instantly—one a blade, the other a crushing claw. I sliced the first Nomu diagonally from hip to shoulder and crushed the second's skull like wet clay.
Six Nomu.
Six seconds.
Nothing left but mangled bodies dissolving in the spreading darkness.
And with every kill, something inside me burned hotter, blacker, sharper.
Because Shigaraki—
was running.
Even thinking of him trying to escape made the shadows erupt from me with renewed fury, pouring across the ground and walls like a living storm.
The dome trembled.
The air vibrated.
My heartbeat thundered like a war drum.
I took a step forward—
And the shadows surged, answering the rage building in my chest.
The main Nomu lunged.
I stepped through it.
My shadow blade cut cleanly across its chest—deep, diagonal, decisive. The creature split open, collapsing in two heavy halves that slapped wetly against the tiles.
I didn't even look at it.
I took another step toward Shigaraki—
And a sound behind me made my eye twitch.
Wet stretching.
Bone shifting.
Flesh pulling itself back together.
The Nomu stood up.
Again.
I turned just enough to see it lunge a second time.
I cut it in half again.
It hit the floor.
The shadows around me vibrated.
And then—
Wet stretching.
Bone shifting.
Regeneration.
Again.
My jaw clenched.
My rage clawed at my ribs.
I sliced it into four pieces this time—arms, legs, torso separate.
They wriggled.
Pulled back.
Reformed.
The Nomu rose again, roaring, blocking me from Shigaraki like an obedient, mindless shield.
The heat in my chest flared dangerously.
I was about to tear it apart again, and again, and again—
But something moved behind it.
A ripple of purple-black mist.
Kurogiri.
Opening a portal behind Shigaraki.
Pulling him through.
I didn't think.
I didn't breathe.
I dashed, shadows exploding behind me, ignoring the Nomu entirely as I blasted past it.
The world blurred.
I reached Shigaraki in less than a heartbeat, arm extended, shadow blade already forming—
Too late.
Most of his body had already vanished into the warp.
Only one thing was still visible:
His face.
His mocking smile.
He lifted his unbroken hand—
And flipped me off.
The portal began to close.
My vision went cold.
I took offense.
A shadow blade snapped into existence along my forearm, sharper than anything I'd summoned yet, and I swung—
SCHLKT.
The blade sliced clean through the gap in the warp.
Shigaraki vanished.
But the hand didn't.
It dropped onto the tile in front of me, twitching violently, blood splattering in a jagged arc.
The warp snapped shut with a hiss.
And the Nomu roared behind me, regenerating again—
But I didn't look at it.
I stared at the severed hand at my feet.
And my fury deepened into something the world wasn't ready for.
For one heartbeat, everything was quiet.
Just me.
The severed hand.
My breath shaking.
Then the rage snapped.
"DAMMIT!!!!"
The scream tore out of my chest like a shockwave.
A ring of compressed air blasted outward from my body, shredding dust into a cyclone and hurling broken tiles in every direction. The lights overhead flickered—
Then died.
The entire USJ was swallowed into night.
Not dimness.
Not shadow.
Full, absolute night — thick, oppressive, complete — pouring out from under my feet and rolling outward like a living tide. It covered every corner of the facility in less than a second, drowning everything in black.
The Nomu roared somewhere behind me—
But its voice sounded distant, muffled, unimportant.
It didn't matter.
Nothing mattered except the fury burning inside me like a dying star collapsing in on itself.
My eyes locked onto the Nomu climbing to its feet again.
My cloak of darkness whipped around my shoulders like a storm caught in a body's shape.
The mark on my forehead pulsed again.
Shadows rippled outward.
The Nomu roared and charged.
I didn't let it reach me.
I appeared in front of it—
And tore into it.
Not with finesse.
Not with technique.
With rage.
My shadows shot upward, grabbing its limbs, ripping them in four directions.
Another tendril punched into its chest and ripped straight through its back.
My fist slammed into its jaw with a crack that split the floor beneath us.
I tore the Nomu apart again—
And again—
And again—
Ignoring its regeneration.
Ignoring its roars.
Ignoring the world.
The only thing I saw was the thing that delayed me from getting Shigaraki.
And I would tear it to pieces until nothing remained.
I slammed the Nomu's head into the ground hard enough to crater the tile.
It kept regenerating.
I kept tearing.
Black shadows whipped around me like a cyclone, slicing through muscle, ripping at bone, pinning it down each time it tried to stand.
I didn't stop.
I didn't even slow down.
I ripped another chunk from the Nomu's torso, shadows splitting its spine like a zipper. Black blood sprayed but evaporated instantly into the surrounding darkness.
Not until something—someone—PAIDED.
When the Nomu charged again with half its skull still open, something finally cut through the fog of rage clogging my thoughts.
A simple, obvious truth: I was done with this thing i didnt care about it anymore
The Nomu lunged.
I met it halfway.
My shadow formed a spear in my hand, and with one clean upward strike—
CRACK.
The blade pierced through its jaw, up through thick bone, and straight into the center of its skull.
The Nomu twitched once.
Then collapsed—heavy, final, unmoving.
Dead.
Truly dead.
No regeneration.
No twitching.
No grotesque reforming.
Just silence. This is what I should have done initially.
For the first time since whatever this was happened to me, the haze of rage eased—
not gone, not soothed—
just quiet enough for numbness to seep in.
I stepped around the fallen creature…
And something else happened.
A thin wisp of black rose from its body—
like smoke, but heavier, thicker, aware.
Without thinking, without commanding,
without even questioning—
I whispered:
"…arise."
The word felt born in my throat, not learned.
The Nomu's shadow peeled off the floor like liquid ink rising into a shape.
It knelt, head bowed, waiting.
I walked past it, numb.
My steps carried me to Aizawa.
His body lay twisted.
His scarf pooled beneath him like a spilled ribbon.
His eyes stared at nothing.
Another wisp rose from him.
My voice came out cracked, low:
"…arise."
Aizawa's shadow pulled free and stood tall behind me, silent, devoted.
Thirteen's broken suit lay crushed on the floor.
Her hand stretched outward like she died reaching for someone.
A shadow wisp rose from her too.
"…arise."
Her silhouette floated up, settling beside Aizawa's, both kneeling.
Not by my command.
By their own will.
I stared at them—not fully understanding, not able to process, not able to feel anything except the empty weight in my chest.
They remained heroes even after death.
Even now…
I could feel it they still wanted to help the students.
I swallowed hard, something inside me cracking again—but quieter this time.
"Go," I whispered.
"Help them."
They didn't need more.
They didn't speak.
They didn't hesitate.
Aizawa's shadow sprinted off in one direction, scarf flowing behind him like a streak of darkness.
Thirteen's floated after him, lighter, drifting like a ghost.
The Nomu's shadow lumbered after them, silent, obedient.
And then…
I walked to Nerissa.
Her body lay still in the blood pooling outward from her chest.
Her hair was soaked.
Her face was peaceful in a way that tore me apart all over again.
But there was no smoke rising from her, a blessing and a curse I guess.
It meant I would never hold her alive again even if just a shadow of her.
My legs gave out, and I dropped to my knees beside her.
My hands trembled as I reached out—
Fingers shaking—
Barely able to breathe—
And touched her cheek.
Cold.
Still.
Something inside me buckled.
"Nerissa…" I whispered.
Her name fell apart on my tongue.
Shadows curled around my arms, responding to the ache in my chest—
But none of that mattered.
All I could feel
all I could see
all I could think
was her.
3rd person pov
Izuku slipped his hands beneath Nerissa's shoulders, moving slowly, as if afraid she might shatter further in his grasp. His fingers trembled as he lifted her, guiding her head against his chest. The moment her cheek touched him, his whole body folded inward, shoulders curling over her like he could shield her from what had already happened.
A sound escaped him—soft, small, broken.
The first sob wasn't loud.
It barely made it past his throat.
But it carried more grief than any scream could have.
He held her close, arms tightening around her lifeless form, rocking her gently without even realizing he was doing it. His breath hitched against her hair. His tears—still thick, darkened remnants of the power that had awakened inside him—dried now against his cheeks, no longer sliding down, but the tracks they left behind stayed carved into his expression.
As he cried into her, all the darkness that had flooded the USJ began to stir.
It lifted from the walls.
It seeped out of the cracked floors.
It peeled away from every shadowed corner.
Slowly, hesitantly, it drifted toward him.
It didn't rush or lash out—it returned like a tide pulled by the moon, drawn back into the one who had unleashed it. The night he had summoned recalled, folding back into the cloak at his shoulders and the mark burning faintly on his forehead.
A wide clearing began to open in the plaza as the blackness retreated, revealing shattered tiles and scorched debris. And for the first time, the light overhead flickered back to life, pale and shaking.
Far across the facility, Momo felt the shift like a cold wind brushing her skin.
Shōko felt it too.
They didn't see one another.
But they ran at the same time.
They sprinted through the broken walkways, jumping over fallen pillars and slipping past pockets of dust still settling from Izuku's earlier eruptions. The shadows flowing toward the plaza acted like a beacon—guiding them straight to him.
And the closer they got, the more panic twisted in their chests.
Something terrible waited for them there they could feel it.
Momo and Shōko were almost their feet pounding the cracked tile,
shadows streaming past them racing toward the boy kneeling in the center of it all.
And Izuku stayed where he was, holding Nerissa close, his forehead pressed to the top of her head, whispering apologies he knew she would never hear.
The shadows finally settled completely, pulling away from the walls, the ceiling, the shattered ground until they drifted back toward Izuku like a slow tide. As they withdrew, the horror they had been covering began to reveal itself.
Bodies.
Students.
The ones who never made it out of their assigned zones.
Mina.
Tsuyu.
Sero.
Sato.
ojiro.
Their bodies lay scattered across the usj, surrounded by villains who had remained behind after Shigaraki fled. They weren't mourning or standing guard.
They were joking.
Laughing.
Kicking rubble at the corpses.
One nudged Tsuyu's limp arm with his boot.
Another tugged on Sero's broken tape dispenser like it was a toy he wanted to steal.
Two remaining Nomu stood nearby, twitching, snorting, waiting for new orders.
And in the middle of all of it—
Izuku knelt with Nerissa in his arms.
Her hair brushed against his chin, sticky with drying blood.
Her arms hung limp at her sides.
Her chest didn't rise.
Izuku didn't scream now.
He didn't rage.
He didn't tear the world apart.
He just held her and sobbed quietly into her hair—small, trembling sounds that hitched with each breath. His shoulders shook beneath the weight of his grief, and his fingers curled gently in the fabric of her ruined shirt.
At the same time, teachers finally began pouring into the area from multiple entrances.
Cementoss.
Midnight.
Snipe.
Ectoplasm clones.
Present Mic.
And last—All Might.
They expected devastation.
They didn't expect what they walked into.
The villains were still alive, active, shouting to each other, looting the bodies of fallen students. One tore open Sato's backpack, scattering the contents across the tile. Another crouched beside Mina's body and poked her cheek with a stick, laughing at the lack of reaction.
A third villain leaned on Tsuyu's corpse like it was a piece of furniture.
A teacher yelled in horror.
Another gagged.
Present Mic's voice cracked with something between grief and fury.
The two remaining Nomu turned, muscles tightening, and roared at the arriving staff.
And then All Might saw Izuku.
He stopped dead in his tracks.
The boy knelt motionless in the plaza's center, holding Nerissa's limp body against his chest. Blood covered both of them—on his arms, his shirt, her hair, her skin. Izuku's head leaned against hers, and although his face couldn't be seen, the sound of his shaking, broken sobs echoed faintly.
Her body didn't move in his arms.
She looked painfully small.
All Might took half a step forward looking broken at the sight before him—hesitated—then a realization sliced through him like a blade:
The other students.
The ones still alive.
The ones still trapped.
They needed him now.
For a sickening moment he looked torn apart inside, wanting nothing more than to run to Izuku, to pull him away from the nightmare, to hold him the way a father holds a child after a tragedy.
But the screams of other injured students broke through the silence.
He clenched his fists.
Forced himself to breathe.
And then turned away, sprinting with everything he had left to gather the surviving kids and carry them toward safety.
Momo and Shōko sprinted across the plaza the instant they saw where the shadows were pulling back to. They didn't slow. They didn't breathe. They didn't think.
They just knew Izuku was there.
And when they reached him—
They both froze.
Izuku was kneeling on shattered tile, cradling Nerissa's limp body against his chest. Both of them were streaked with blood—some his, most hers. His face was buried in her hair, shoulders shaking with quiet, broken sobs he didn't even seem aware of.
He rocked her gently, as if the motion might bring her back.
"Nerissa… please… I'm right here…" he whispered into her hair, voice cracking into pieces. "Please wake up…"
Nerissa didn't move.
Not even a twitch.
Shōko's breath stopped.
Her entire body stiffened.
Then she stumbled the rest of the way over then crumpled to her knees beside them, hands hovering helplessly in the air, trembling so hard her fingers curled inward.
She stared at Nerissa like she couldn't understand what she was seeing—like her brain refused to process it.
Tears streamed silently down her cheeks.
Her voice cracked into a whisper:
"Nerissa… please… please don't…"
Momo, normally the calm one, dropped beside Izuku with shaking hands. Her lips trembled as she leaned in closer, her breath hitching so hard she nearly choked.
"Okay… okay… just—just focus…" she whispered to herself, already falling apart. "Please… please let me be wrong…"
She pressed her fingers to Nerissa's neck.
Nothing.
Her breath broke.
She pressed harder, moving to the wrist, her hands shaking uncontrollably.
Still nothing.
A sob escaped her.
"No—no, no, no… please—"
Shōko covered her mouth, eyes squeezed shut as more tears poured out of her.
Momo swallowed hard—forced herself to steady—then pressed her ear to Nerissa's chest. She stayed there longer this time, refusing to give up, refusing to stop listening.
Seconds dragged.
Her breath hitched.
Her eyes widened.
"…wait—"
She held her breath, leaning in harder.
A faint flutter.
So weak she almost missed it.
Her head snapped up like she'd been shocked.
"IZUKU!" she cried, voice cracking. "She's alive!"
He didn't look up at first.
Momo grabbed his shoulder with both hands, shaking him desperately.
"Izuku—listen to me—she's ALIVE! Her heart is beating—barely—but it's there! We have to move NOW!"
Izuku's eyes widened—light flickering back into them for the first time.
Then—
The shadow cloak snapped tight around his shoulders with a violent rush of air, responding to his will like muscle.
Two massive shadow arms unfurled from his back gently but faster than they could see, carefully scooping Momo and Shōko off the ground as if they weighed nothing.
Izuku gathered Nerissa tighter in his real arms.
One breath.
One step.
A blur.
He sprinted toward the exit with such speed the tile cracked beneath him.
The second activation of his shadow power didn't hit his body the way normal strain would. His muscles didn't burn. His lungs didn't ache. His bones didn't protest.
Instead, Izuku felt something else.
Something deeper.
Something wrong.
It wasn't pain.
It wasn't exhaustion.
It was a slow, creeping pressure inside him—like a weight settling on the parts of himself he couldn't name. His breath caught as the sensation pulsed again, subtly but unmistakably.
He was losing something.
He didn't know what.
He didn't know how.
He didn't know if it was good or bad.
And none of it mattered.
Because the only thing he cared about was Nerissa clutched in his arms, her heartbeat flickering faintly so small that he almost couldn't even tell. But it flickered almost as if in response to his powers.
Nothing else in the world existed.
He sprinted faster, the ground cracking under each step, his shadows pushing him forward in surges of silent force.
From the outside—from a perspective Izuku could never see—the mark on his forehead glowed brighter. Branching veins of darkness began stretching all the way down the side of his face, curling over his jaw, spreading across his neck like ink drawn by an unseen hand.
The lines didn't stop there.
They traced down his collarbone…
across the right side of his chest…
until they reached directly over his heart.
The dark veins pulsed with each beat.
And inside him—
His heart was no longer just a heart.
In the view unseen by any eyes, human or shadow, the organ was transforming. Half of it still looked like the fragile, terrified heart of a sixteen-year-old boy.
But the other half—
Was turning into something impossible.
A black, polished material that looked like shadow made solid.
Not stone.
Not metal.
Not flesh.
Something else.
Something born from the wrath he unleashed and the quirk responding to a breaking point his mind couldn't comprehend yet.
Each beat of the heart sent ripples of dark energy into his bloodstream, threading shadow through his veins, reinforcing muscle, sharpening senses—all while eroding something intangible inside him.
Izuku didn't feel the details.
But he held Nerissa closer, tightening his grip as his sprint accelerated again, and the sensation faded behind one overwhelming thought:
She's alive. She needs me. I won't lose her again.
The girls clung to the shadow arms holding them, eyes wide with fear and hope.
Teachers scattered out of the way as Izuku tore past.
And deep inside his chest, his half-shadow heart beat harder—
Once.
Twice.
Each pulse stronger than the last.