Izuku sat at a desk.
Not waking up. Not exactly. It was more like someone had tabbed back into a paused game—awareness arriving all at once, without preamble.
Sunlight streamed through classroom windows. Chalk dust. Teenage body spray. Rows of desks around him, most of them empty. The school day was ending.
Someone was talking. Male voice. Condescending.
"—seriously, Midoriya? You want to go to UA Academy too?"
Laughter. Three, maybe four guys standing around his desk. One of them had his hands shoved in his pockets, looking down at him with the kind of smirk that said he already knew the punchline.
He blinked.
Where the fuck was he?
His eyes focused on the desk in front of him. Scratched wood. A notebook open to a page covered in obsessive handwriting. Diagrams. Hero analysis. Notes about someone called "Kamui Woods" and his "Lacquered Chain Prison" technique.
The handwriting was awful. Chicken scratch. Like a kid who wrote too fast because his brain moved faster than his hand.
He looked down at his hands.
Thin. Pale. Knuckles scraped and bruised. Nails bitten down to nothing. Small hands. Kid hands.
These weren't his hands.
The guy standing over him kept talking. "I mean, shit, at least aim for something realistic. UA's for people with actual quirks, not—"
"Not quirkless losers," another voice finished. More laughter.
Quirkless.
The word landed differently. Like it carried weight he didn't understand yet.
He lifted his head. Looked at the guys surrounding his desk.
Teenagers. High school uniforms. Black jackets, white shirts, red ties. The one doing most of the talking had spiky blonde hair and red eyes that looked almost feral.
Something about him felt familiar. Wrong-familiar. Like déjà vu from a dream he couldn't quite remember.
"What's wrong, Deku?" The blonde kid leaned down. Got in his face. "Cat got your tongue? Or are you finally realising how pathetic—"
Izuku held up one finger.
"Shut the fuck up for a second."
The classroom went quiet. Not the nervous quiet of someone hoping a situation would defuse itself. The kind of quiet that followed something genuinely unexpected, like a cat suddenly speaking Japanese.
The blonde kid blinked. Then his face went through about four different phases, starting with confusion and ending hard on fury.
"The hell did you just—"
"I said a second." His voice came out calm. Unhurried. He was still looking at his hands, turning them over slowly, studying the scraped knuckles like they were an interesting geological formation. "I'm thinking."
He was thinking.
The body he was sitting in felt wrong in a dozen small ways. Too light. The posture was bad—a forward curl, shoulders rounded in the particular shape of someone who had spent years trying to take up less space. His back ached from it. The skin on his cheeks felt tight. He reached up and brushed away the crust of dried tear tracks he didn't remember shedding.
He looked around the classroom properly. Third year of middle school, if the kanji on the board meant anything. The notebook in front of him was filled with the kind of desperate, encyclopaedic detail that only a true obsessive produced. He flipped back a page. Another page. Seventeen volumes, apparently, if the number on the spine was accurate.
Seventeen.
Someone had spent years cataloguing every hero technique ever recorded. Every weakness. Every tactical opening. Every aesthetic flaw in their costumes.
He paused on a spread about Kamui Woods. Neat little sketches of branch formations. Notes on fire vulnerability. Speculation about structural limits.
Not bad.
The blonde kid had recovered. He grabbed the edge of the desk and shoved it sideways, making the notebook slide.
"You don't get to do that. You don't get to sit there and play cool like you're something, Deku. You're nothing. You've always been—"
Izuku looked up at him.
Just looked.
Something in that look made the kid's sentence die halfway out of his mouth. Whatever expression had settled onto his borrowed face, it wasn't what the kid expected.
The group behind the blonde shifted their weight. One of them took a half step back without seeming to notice he'd done it.
"Are you done?"
The blonde kid's eye twitched. His palms crackled—small pops of light, nitroglycerin sweat igniting at his fingertips.
Izuku sat there. Heart pounding. Adrenaline spiking for no particular reason he could articulate yet.
He looked down at the body he occupied. Really looked this time.
Small. Scrawny. The school uniform hung loose on narrow shoulders. Collarbones visible through the open shirt collar. Arms like sticks. No muscle definition. No bulk.
Midoriya.
The word echoed. That's what the blonde had called him.
Midoriya. Deku. UA Academy. Quirkless.
Oh no.
Oh fuck no.
He knew this. He'd watched it. Binge-read the manga during a particularly boring weekend when he'd had nothing better to do.
My Hero Academia.
Izuku Midoriya. The quirkless kid who wanted to be a hero. The crybaby protagonist who got One For All from All Might and…. he stopped watching after season one.
And now he was—
A window materialised in front of his face.
Glowing. Transparent. Floating in midair like someone had ripped a UI element from a gacha game and shoved it into reality.
[WELCOME, TRANSMIGRATOR!]
You have successfully possessed the body of IZUKU MIDORIYA in the world of MY HERO ACADEMIA!
Analysing host compatibility…
Analysing soul structure…
ANALYSIS COMPLETE!
Congratulations! You have been granted the DIVINE MILKING SYSTEM!
He stared at it.
"Are you fucking serious right now?"
The classroom was empty. No one heard him.
◆ DIVINE MILKING SYSTEM - INTERFACE ◆
SYSTEM STATUS
Level: 1
Experience: 0/1000
Remaining Lifespan: 71 Hours 53 Minutes
Points: 0
PHYSICAL STATS
Strength [E] ▰▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1/10
Endurance [E] ▰▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1/10
Agility [E] ▰▰▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 2/10
Perception [D] ▰▰▰▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 3/10
Magic [E] ▰▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1/10
SOCIAL STATS
Charisma [E] ▰▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱▱ 1/10
Technique [C] ▰▰▰▰▰▰▱▱▱▱ 6/10
INNATE TRAIT
└─ Limit Breaker [MYTHIC]
CORE ABILITIES
Pleasure Plunder [MAX]
Vital Nectar [MAX]
Snake Eyes [MAX]
Euphoric Feedback [MAX]
Sanctuary [Copper]
Overclock [Copper]
Bio-stasis Reservoir [Copper]
COPIED QUIRKS (0/3 slots active)
└─ None
STORED ESSENCE (0/3 cups)
└─ Empty
He read it twice.
Then a third time, just to make absolutely sure he wasn't having a stroke.
Divine Milking System.
Lifespan: 71 hours 53 minutes.
He was going to die in three days unless he convinced women to let him milk them.
In My Hero Academia.
In the body of Izuku fucking Midoriya.
The quirkless crybaby who'd never touched a woman in his life.
"This is the most degenerate isekai bullshit I have ever seen."
He said it to the empty classroom. His voice came out wrong. Higher. Softer. Younger.
Izuku's voice.
He stood up. The chair scraped against linoleum.
His legs felt weak. Shaky. Like he'd been sitting too long, or like the body he was wearing had skipped leg day for six consecutive months.
He walked to the window. Looked out at the school courtyard below.
Students milling around. Uniforms. Backpacks. Normal teenage nonsense.
Except half of them were using quirks.
A kid with extra arms juggling three basketballs. A girl with pink skin laughing with friends. Someone's hair was literally on fire and nobody gave a shit.
Quirks. Superpowers. This world's version of awakened abilities.
And Izuku Midoriya—the body he was stuck in—didn't have one.
He glanced at his reflection in the window glass.
Green hair. Messy. Green eyes. Freckles across his cheeks. Baby face. He looked young.
The system window pulsed.
[TIME UNTIL UA Academy ENTRANCE EXAM: 10 MONTHS]
[CURRENT QUIRK STATUS: NONE]
[WARNING: Quirkless applicants have 0.01% acceptance rate]
[RECOMMENDATION: Acquire quirks via Essence Extraction to improve survival chances]
Ten months.
He had ten months to somehow get into UA Academy—the most competitive hero school in Japan—while stuck in a quirkless body with a death timer ticking down.
And the only way to survive was to seduce women and milk them.
In a world where the protagonist was famous for being an awkward virgin who blushed every time a girl talked to him.
He pulled up the system interface again. Focused on the abilities.
Snake Eyes — reveal quirk rank and bust size, create attraction.
Euphoric Feedback — direct pleasure transmission.
Sanctuary — pocket dimension for privacy.
Pleasure Plunder — touch breasts, induce lactation, copy quirks.
He was in a high school.
With teenagers.
"No," he said immediately. "Absolutely fucking not."
The system helpfully provided clarification:
[NOTICE: All targets must be 18+ years old]
[Current viable targets in proximity: 0]
[Recommendation: Seek adult female pro heroes, teachers, or civilians until you enter UA]
[Quirkless status makes approaching heroes difficult]
[Suggested strategy: Build reputation first]
He exhaled slowly.
Fine. At least the system wasn't trying to make him a sex offender.
Adult women only. Pro heroes. Teachers. Civilians over eighteen.
In a world where he was currently a scrawny quirkless teenager that grown women would have zero reason to look at twice.
Seventy-one hours and fifty minutes.
Three days to find an adult woman willing to let him touch her and drink milk from her body so he could steal her quirk and not die.
While living in Izuku Midoriya's body.
The universe hated him.
He looked back at the desk. At the notebook still open to hero analysis.
The handwriting was meticulous. Obsessive. Pages and pages of notes about pro heroes. Their quirks. Their fighting styles. Strengths and weaknesses.
Izuku had been studying heroes his entire life. Knew more about quirks than probably anyone else his age.
And now that knowledge belonged to whoever was wearing his face.
He walked back to the desk. Sat down. Flipped through the notebook.
The door opened.
He looked up.
A woman stood in the doorway. Tall. Professional. Business suit. Dark hair pulled back. Late twenties, early thirties.
Teacher.
She blinked when she saw him.
"Midoriya? You're still here?"
[Snake Eyes activated automatically]
TARGET ANALYSIS:
Bust: 34C
Quirk Rank: Bronze
Age: 28
Current Attraction: 2%
The information appeared above her head. Visible only to him.
Bronze rank quirk. Not amazing, but better than nothing.
Two percent attraction. Basically zero.
She was looking at him like he was a lost puppy.
"Are you okay?" she asked. "You look pale."
Seventy-one hours and forty-eight minutes.
He was a quirkless teenager with no money, no status, and a body that looked like it had never seen the inside of a gym.
And he needed to convince this adult woman—or someone like her—to let him milk her within three days or he'd die.
"Yeah." Izuku's voice. Shaky. Uncertain. "I'm fine. Just... thinking about UA."
She smiled. "Well, don't stay too late. Get home safe, okay?"
She left.
The door clicked shut.
He sat there in the empty classroom with a death timer counting down and a system that expected him to become a harem protagonist in seventy-one hours.
"Fuck my life."
The system cheerfully displayed his current status:
QUEST: SURVIVE
Objective: Extract essence from adult female (18+) within 72 hours
Reward: +1 day lifespan, first quirk acquired
Penalty for Failure: DEATH
TIME REMAINING: 71 hours 45 minutes
He looked at the hero analysis notebook.
Then at the empty classroom.
Then at the system window.
"Alright," he said. "Let's fucking do this."
Ten months to get into UA Academy.
But first, three days to not die.
Welcome to My Hero Academia.
Divine Milking System edition.