I stared at the immovable refrigerator, sweat dripping down my neck. The morning sun beat down mercilessly, turning the junkyard into a metal oven. After three hours of sorting trash into manageable piles, my arms trembled from exhaustion.
"Progress report, day one," I said to the phone propped on a broken microwave. "Current status: getting my ass kicked by home appliances."
I peeled off my sweat-soaked shirt, grimacing at how it clung to my skin. The fabric was already starting to tear at the seams from the strain. All Might's faded smile looked almost mocking now.
"Physical assessment complete. Current strength level: pathetic. Endurance: laughable. But..." I gestured to the cleared area behind me, about three meters square. "Making progress. Slow and steady."
The shirt was ruined anyway, so I tore it into strips. Two pieces wrapped around my palms - protection against the rusty metal. Another strip became a makeshift headband to keep sweat from my eyes. The rest I tucked into my pocket for later.
"New strategy," I continued, facing the camera. "Breaking down larger items into manageable pieces. Working smarter, not harder." I paused, then grinned. "Though definitely still working harder than anyone else."
I stopped recording and surveyed my domain of garbage. The refrigerator mocked me, but beside it sat a pile of smaller appliances - toasters, microwaves, bits of scrap metal. Things I could actually move.
One piece at a time, I thought, grabbing a dented toaster. Rome wasn't built in a day, and heroes aren't made overnight.
The sun climbed higher as I worked, marking time in sweat and aching muscles. Each trip to the designated "cleanup zone" felt longer than the last. My makeshift hand wraps grew stiff with dried blood despite my best efforts.
"Day one, final update," I recorded twelve hours later. The setting sun painted the trash heaps in shades of orange and red. "Total area cleared: approximately ten square meters. Not enough. Not nearly enough."
I panned the camera across my progress - a small patch of sand reclaimed from the wasteland. Then to my torso, documenting the starting point. Izuku's body showed the day's strain - angry red scratches, forming bruises, muscles trembling with fatigue. But no real change. Not yet.
"Tomorrow we start for real," I said. "This was just a warmup."
The walk home took twice as long as the morning run. Every step sent spikes of pain through my abused muscles. But I kept moving, already planning tomorrow's assault on the beach.
Inko waited at the door, her eyes widening at my appearance. "Izuku! What happened to your shirt? Are you hurt?"
"Training," I said, attempting a reassuring smile. "Nothing serious. Just got a little carried away."
She reached out, fingers hovering over a particularly nasty scratch on my shoulder. "This looks serious. Let me get the first aid kit-"
"Mom." I caught her hand gently. "I'm okay. Really. This is nothing compared to what heroes deal with."
Her face fell slightly. "That's what worries me."
I squeezed her hand before letting go. "I know. But I need to do this. Trust me?"
She studied my face for a long moment, then sighed. "At least let me clean those cuts. And you're taking a hot bath before dinner."
"Yes ma'am." I followed her inside, muscles screaming in protest.
I sank into the steaming bath, a groan escaping my lips as the hot water enveloped my aching muscles. The bathroom mirror had already fogged up, obscuring my earlier glimpse of Izuku's battered body. Purple bruises bloomed across his shoulders, joining the constellation of scratches and cuts Inko had carefully cleaned and bandaged.
"Twenty minutes, okay?" Inko's voice carried through the door. "Then dinner."
"Got it," I called back, letting my head rest against the edge of the tub.
The water's heat seeped into my bones, and I found my thoughts drifting. Ten hours of manual labor should have destroyed this untrained body. Back home, I'd seen fresh recruits collapse from less. Yet here I was, battered but functional. The muscle fatigue was intense, yes, but not debilitating.
I lifted one arm, studying the pale skin through the steam. Already the smaller scratches looked days old rather than hours. The deeper cuts had stopped bleeding entirely, their edges pink with new tissue.
"Interesting." I submerged the arm, watching ripples spread across the water's surface. "Either this world has some baseline enhanced healing, or..."
The alternative tickled at the edge of my consciousness. Izuku's memories supplied no evidence of unusual recovery abilities. If anything, his childhood injuries had healed normally - scraped knees taking days to scab over, bruises lingering for weeks.
So what changed?
I closed my eyes, focusing inward. The ache in my muscles felt... different. Not the sharp, tearing pain of overexertion, but something deeper. Like the tissue itself was reorganizing, strengthening.
Heavenly Restriction. The thought surfaced unbidden. In my world, since we didn't have powers to defeat those monsters, our clan gained something in return - the potential for unlimited physical growth. Was it possible...?
"Izuku?" Inko knocked softly. "Are you falling asleep in there?"
"No," I said, sitting up straighter. "Just thinking."
"Well, think while you eat. Food's ready."
I stood, watching water cascade off this borrowed body. If I was right - if Izuku's Quirkless state granted him the same potential as my world's restricted ones - then this changed everything.
The dining room table groaned under the weight of enough food for three people. Inko wrung her hands as I entered, her eyes tracking my movements for signs of pain.
"I made extra," she said, gesturing to the spread. "You must be starving after... whatever you were doing today."
I sank into my chair, the fresh clothes she'd laid out soft against my tender skin. "Thanks, Mom. This looks amazing."
She sat across from me, her shoulders tight with unspoken worry. "Izuku, about your training..."
"I know what you're going to say." I reached for the rice, piling my bowl high. "It looks bad, but I'm being careful. Really."
"Are you?" Her chopsticks tapped against her bowl. "Because those cuts..."
"Are already healing." I pushed up my sleeve, showing her the fading scratches. "See? I'm tougher than I look."
Her eyes narrowed, studying the injuries with maternal intensity. "That's... unusual."
"Maybe." I shrugged, digging into my food. "Or maybe I'm just good at healing."
"Izuku." The steel in her voice made me look up. "What exactly are you doing at this 'training'?"
I set down my chopsticks, considering my words carefully. "You know Takoba Beach?"
"The junkyard?" Her nose wrinkled. "That dangerous place full of rusty metal and-" She paled. "Please tell me you're not..."
"Cleaning it up." I met her gaze steadily. "One piece at a time. It's perfect strength training, and when I'm done, I'll have given something back to the community."
"But..." She gestured helplessly at my arms. "The risk of infection, tetanus..."
"I got my shots," I said, Izuku's memories confirming it. "And I'm being smart about it. Using gloves, taking breaks, staying hydrated."
Her lips pressed into a thin line. "This isn't like normal training, Izuku. This is..."
"Real." I leaned forward, letting some of my passion show. "This is what being a hero means, Mom. Not just fighting villains, but helping people. Making things better."
She stared at me for a long moment, something unreadable in her expression. "You've changed."
"Have I?"
"Yes." She reached across the table, her fingers ghosting over a bandage on my forearm. "You seem... older somehow. More focused."
I caught her hand, squeezing gently. "I'm still me. Just... growing up, maybe."
Her eyes glistened. "Too fast."
"Hey." I stood, circling the table to pull her into an awkward hug. Physical affection didn't come naturally to me, but Izuku's body knew the motions. "I'm not going anywhere. Just getting stronger."
She pressed her face against my shoulder, her tears dampening my shirt. "Promise me you'll be careful. Really careful."
"I promise." I stroked her hair, marveling at how such a simple gesture could carry so much meaning. "And... I promise to let you help. With the first aid, at least."
She pulled back, wiping her eyes. "And proper meals. You'll need the energy."
"Deal." I returned to my seat, attacking my food with renewed vigor. "Speaking of which..."
She laughed, the sound watery but genuine. "There's more in the kitchen. Eat as much as you need."
Later, sprawled across Izuku's bed, I stared at the All Might posters surrounding me. The Symbol of Peace grinned down from every angle, his eternal smile both inspiring and slightly unnerving.
"What would you think," I murmured, "of a Quirkless hero with unlimited potential?"
My muscles still ached, but the pain had changed character again. Less sharp, more... transformative. Like the body was rebuilding itself, stronger than before.
I pulled out my phone, opening a new note:
*Day 1 Observations:
Enhanced healing factor? Cuts/bruises fading faster than normal
Muscle recovery accelerated
Endurance exceeded expectations
Possible Heavenly Restriction manifestation
Need baseline measurements for comparison
Document all changes*
Tomorrow would bring fresh challenges. The beach wouldn't clear itself, and this body needed serious conditioning before I could even think about hero training.
…Ah shit I have school tomorrow.