The words hit Izuku like a physical blow. He'd known this was coming—had felt it in his bones—but hearing Aizawa confirm it made everything terrifyingly real.
"How much time do we have?" he asked, his voice steadier than he felt.
Aizawa's eyes narrowed. "Hard to say. The attacks are getting closer to UA, more coordinated. Whatever's coming, it's coming soon."
Mei slammed her wrench down on the workbench, making everyone jump. "Then we finish testing tonight. No more waiting."
She was right. They'd been careful—maybe too careful—running simulation after simulation, tweaking and adjusting. But the luxury of time had just run out.
Momo stepped forward, her face set with determination. "The Harmony Suit is as ready as it'll ever be. We've triple-checked every system, every connection. It's time, Izuku."
He nodded, moving toward the gleaming suit in the corner. They'd come so far from that first crude prototype. The Harmony Suit now stood as a testament to their combined brilliance: Mei's innovative engineering, Momo's precise creations, and his own understanding of the forge's power. Its surface seemed to ripple in the workshop's harsh lighting, the metal somehow both solid and fluid, like mercury given form.
"I want you to understand something," Aizawa said, his voice cutting through Izuku's thoughts. "Once you put that suit on, everything changes. The villains will come for you harder than ever. No more hiding, no more preparation. Are you ready for that?"
The forge hummed within Izuku, as if responding to the question. He felt its warmth spread through his chest, down his arms, to his fingertips. It wasn't just power anymore—it was part of him, as natural as breathing.
"I don't think I have a choice," he answered honestly. "But yes. I'm ready."
Aizawa studied him for a long moment, then nodded. "Good. Because there's something else you need to know." He pulled out his phone, showing them a grainy security camera image. "This was taken two hours ago, just outside the city."
Izuku's blood ran cold. There, in the shadows between buildings, was a familiar dark shape—the shadow that had been haunting him. But it wasn't alone. The image showed at least a dozen more like it, their forms twisted and wrong, as if reality itself rejected their existence.
"They're gathering," Aizawa said grimly. "Whatever they're planning, it's bigger than we thought. Much bigger."
Mei and Momo moved closer to Izuku, a unconscious gesture of solidarity. The workshop suddenly felt very small, very vulnerable.
"Then we better make this count," Izuku said, reaching for the Harmony Suit. The metal was cool under his fingers, but he could feel the forge responding to it, reaching out, ready to merge.
As he began the startup sequence they'd practiced so many times, a distant explosion rocked the building. Emergency alarms blared to life, their harsh wail cutting through the evening quiet.
Aizawa was already moving toward the door, his capture weapon unwinding. "Looks like we're out of time. Suit up, Midoriya. The fight's coming to us."
The forge roared to life within Izuku, and as the Harmony Suit began to encase him, he caught his reflection in a nearby monitor. In his eyes, there was no fear, no hesitation—only a fierce, burning determination.
The time for preparation was over. Now, they would see if it had been enough.