Chapter 17: Forged in Flame
Four years had carved Izuku Midoriya into a new shape, a far cry from the timid, Quirkless shadow who'd once shuffled through Aldera's halls. At 14, in the summer of 2179, he stood taller 175 cm now, lean and athletic, his frame honed by relentless training and combat drills. Regular runs had stretched his stamina to five kilometers without breaking a sweat, push-ups topped fifty in a set, and sparring sessions some with makeshift dummies, others with willing classmates had chiseled his arms and legs into wiry muscle. The weak kid who'd crumbled under Bakugo's sneers was a ghost; this Izuku dominated physical education tests with ease, clocking the fastest sprints and highest jumps in his grade. Teachers nodded approvingly as he vaulted obstacles or outpaced peers.
His Quirks telekinesis and fire manipulation had evolved into something lethal, precise as a scalpel. What started as floating pencils and shaky fireballs had matured into a seamless dance of power. In practice, he could juggle multiple objects books, chairs, even a spare tire once while weaving flames through the air, shaping them into rings, spears, or tight, hovering orbs. Hisashi's advice from New York, refined over years and a recent month-long visit, had sharpened his fire: hotter bursts that could melt metal, controlled tendrils that snaked with intent. In mock battles with classmates, he'd multi-task flinging debris to block while lashing out with flame whips, each move calculated, devastating. Power's my edge, he'd think, watching a fireball hover steady under his will. U.A.'s gonna see this and more.
Academically, Izuku reigned at the top of his class, a quiet brilliance that matched his physical gains. Math equations unraveled under his pencil like puzzles begging to be solved last week's algebra test came back with a crisp "100%," Mr. Tanaka muttering, "Flawless again, Midoriya." History essays flowed sharp and insightful; his latest, on All Might's pre-U.A. years, earned a rare "Exceptional" scrawled in red. Teachers praised his focus. Peers respected him now, not just for his Quirks but his mind Hana Tanaka asking for notes, Kenji Mori grinning, "You're a brain, dude!" Even Miki Yamada, once all smirks, admitted, "You're kinda scary smart now." Izuku took it in stride, a small grin his only reply. Brains and brawn, he'd think.
Bakugo, though, remained a jagged thorn. Four years back, that suspension after their yard fight had dented his pride, but time hadn't dulled his grudge. He'd returned to school quieter then, lips tight, but the fire in his red eyes never faded. Their dynamic had shifted where once he'd towered over a cowering Izuku, now they stood eye-to-eye, equals in strength if not in temperament. Bakugo no longer sneered "Deku" with the same venom; Izuku's growth physical, Quirk-driven was too obvious to dismiss. Yet he refused to acknowledge it aloud, his silence a wall of stubborn resentment. In P.E., when Izuku lapped him in a sprint, Bakugo's jaw clenched, palms sparking, but he'd mutter, "Lucky run," and stalk off.
The past month had been a jolt of change Hisashi Midoriya's surprise visit to Musutafu. He'd shown up unannounced, suitcase in hand, that bright smile lighting up their doorstep. "Got a break whole month!" he'd boomed, sweeping Inko into a hug as she squealed. Izuku had grinned, clapping his dad's shoulder taller now, he barely needed to look up. Hisashi stayed, filling the house with laughter and stories of New York's chaos. For Izuku, it was a goldmine Hisashi took his fire Quirk training to new heights.
They'd hit the park daily, Hisashi in a polo and slacks, Izuku in his tracksuit, finding a quiet field to work. "Intensity's good," Hisashi had said one morning, arms crossed as Izuku conjured a flame spear. "But control's king tighten it, focus the heat." He'd demonstrated, breathing a thin, white-hot jet that scorched a tin can to slag. Izuku mimicked it fire flaring red, then yellow, sweat beading as he squeezed it tighter, hotter, until it melted a scrap of metal Hisashi tossed out. "There!" Hisashi had laughed, clapping. "Now shape it move it like your telekinesis."
That sparked hours of drills fire rings spinning, spears darting, orbs hovering under dual control. Izuku merged them, telekinesis guiding flames into arcs or spirals, Hisashi nodding approval. "Multi-tasking's your strength," he'd said. "Combat's chaos hit 'em with both, keep 'em guessing." By the month's end, Izuku could launch a fireball, curve it midair with telekinesis, and detonate it precise, devastating. Dad's a pro I really don't think he's just a business man in America. Is he a gang leader or something?, he'd thought, as Hisashi waved goodbye at the airport.