After several days of consuming massive amounts of nutrition, Igarashi Masata finally felt like his body had almost fully recovered.
"Then… let's see if I really did become stronger."
Recalling the sensation he'd felt during the battle at USJ, Masata—now brimming with energy—headed straight to Aizawa Shouta's office.
"You want to borrow the Quirk training grounds?" Aizawa said after thinking for a moment.
"That's fine, but only during lunch break. And I'll be there with you."
Once Masata heard the approval, he nodded without hesitation.
After enduring the dull morning classes, Masata hastily stuffed a few mouthfuls of rice into his mouth, waved goodbye to Yaoyorozu Momo and Uraraka Ochaco, and rushed toward the Quirk training facility.
A short while later, Aizawa arrived as well.
"You're pretty early," Aizawa said lazily as he walked up.
"Come on, Eraser Head! Open the door already!" Masata urged impatiently, barely able to contain his excitement.
"Didn't you already test your Quirk when the semester started?" Aizawa asked while slowly unlocking the door.
"Why suddenly feel like testing it again?"
"Ah—well," Masata replied honestly, "I felt like something broke through during the battle a few days ago. So I wanted to come and confirm it."
"A breakthrough in battle…" Aizawa muttered.
"That's not uncommon. Fine. Go ahead—but don't overdo it."
U.A. had an entire department dedicated to repairing terrain, so teachers were relatively relaxed about students destroying training grounds. Most facilities were made of reinforced cement anyway—anything broken could be restored.
With Aizawa's permission, Masata rushed inside, stripped off his jacket, and let lava slowly seep from his body.
"Alright… let's start by checking my control over magma."
He closed his eyes and forcefully recalled the sensation from that day—the feeling of becoming a flame demon lord, as if all magma in the world answered only to him.
He wrapped magma around his arm, attempting to shape it into a crimson spear.
Instead, what formed was an uneven, misshapen fire rod.
"…So sloppy."
Masata opened his eyes, frustration flickering across his face. He could still only control magma roughly, not precisely.
"So that state back then really was just a momentary explosion… triggered by crisis?"
He stood there muttering to himself.
Unlike flames, magma had far less room for temperature variation. Masata knew its flaws better than anyone. That was why, after awakening his Quirk, he hadn't focused on increasing temperature—but instead trained his body relentlessly.
His real goal had always been shape and control. If he could freely mold magma into weapons or structures, his combat power would increase dramatically.
"Masata! What are you doing—stop it right now!"
Aizawa's sharp voice suddenly rang out.
"Huh? I didn't do anything, did I?" Masata asked, snapping back to reality.
What met his eyes, however, was pure red.
Blood-red magma had spread across the entire training ground. Scorching lava swallowed everything, transforming the massive facility into a terrifying molten field.
"…I did this?"
Masata stared in disbelief.
A training field the size of a standard football pitch was now submerged in lava up to his calves. The extreme heat and toxic fumes made it impossible for Aizawa to approach—he could only shout from the doorway.
"If I released this much magma, I should've collapsed already…!"
But his body felt fine.
"I see…" Masata muttered, eyes gleaming.
"So my control didn't improve much—but the output skyrocketed."
Lava continued pouring from his arm.
"This means I'm meant to overwhelm villains directly with sheer volume…"
A grin spread across his face.
"…That actually feels pretty good."
That afternoon, Masata received a long and extremely serious lecture from Aizawa. As punishment, he was also ordered to personally remove the cooled lava from the training grounds after school.
Fortunately, Masata's physique was absurdly strong. If someone like Minoru Mineta had been assigned that task, he probably would've collapsed on the spot.
"…Still feels a bit unsatisfying."
Because he had to stay after school, Masata told Momo and Ochaco not to wait for him—just leave him a meal at home. He now walked alone along the road, hands in his pockets.
He had undeniably become stronger—but not quite in the way he'd expected.
"Well, whatever. I shouldn't be greedy," he muttered to himself.
"In terms of combat power, I'm probably already on par with an average Pro Hero. My magma output increased, and my endurance improved too."
"I can't expect to have everything at this age… otherwise life would get boring fast."
Comforting himself with that thought, Masata arrived home.
"…I'll go buy an ice cream."
Bad moods could always be fixed with food.
With that in mind, Masata headed into the convenience store.
"Huh? Changed again?"
When he reached the counter, he noticed the clerk was unfamiliar—again.
"Ah, yes!" the clerk said cheerfully.
"I applied for this job two days ago. Please take care of me!"
"…Guess there really are a lot of temporary workers."
As he waited for his change, Masata felt an odd sense of emptiness in the quiet store—like something important was missing.
Inside a sealed room, a man sat motionless in a chair.
His face was obscured. He wore a formal suit, and every visible inch of skin was covered in needles. Behind him, machinery pulsed with incomprehensible data.
"How are things progressing?"
A gloomy, hoarse voice echoed.
The screen before him flickered to life, revealing a young man in a peaked cap.
"The seeds have been planted," the young man said calmly.
"All that's left is guidance. Leave it to me."
"…Good," the voice replied.
"Then I'll wait here—for our little guest to arrive."
"You won't be disappointed."
If Masata were here, he would immediately recognize him—
The young man on the screen was the convenience store clerk from the past few days.