MHA: The Fictional Hero: All Fiction - Chapter 2

It actually took Izuku quite a while to figure out how to activate his Quirk.

As had been theorized throughout his life, the activation conditions were extremely specific.

Had he not been a nerd with a deep passion for manga, he likely never would have discovered it. Even if he had been a manga fan, if he’d been satisfied with reading only digital versions, he still wouldn’t have awakened his Quirk.

Because it only worked with a physical copy.

Even the chance of stumbling upon the activation method had been incredibly slim. It wasn’t enough to merely touch a character on the page. It had to be his index and middle fingers—exactly those two. One finger wouldn’t work. Two random ones? Useless. Even using three fingers, including the correct ones, failed to trigger anything.

The conditions weren’t just precise—they were absurdly specific.

By touching a character specifically with his index and middle fingers, Izuku could temporarily gain their abilities.

Just their abilities and skills.

He didn’t get faster. He didn’t get stronger. His Nen capacity didn’t skyrocket to match the character’s. All of that—his strength, speed, and stamina—remained his own.

He could simply use their abilities with his current level of power.

Naturally, the first thing he did was run experiments—and analyze the hell out of his Quirk.

It allowed him to access the abilities of any character he touched with those two fingers. But, of course, there were limitations.

The most obvious one was the time limit. Currently, it was around five minutes. For five minutes after touching a manga character’s depiction, he could use their abilities.

Hopefully, with enough training, that time could be extended. Even so, it was already a powerful Quirk. After all, it had permanently awakened his Nen, effectively giving him another Quirk altogether.

Even with a five-minute time limit, the ability was busted. It could give him all the powers he’d ever need—so long as he put in the training.

Another restriction was that he could only copy the abilities of one character at a time. The moment he touched another character with those two fingers, the Quirk would immediately switch over to the new set of powers.

He also confirmed something important: as long as his fingers remained in contact with the character’s image—on any physical medium—the time limit didn’t start. It would only begin once he let go. Then, the five-minute countdown would begin.

He discovered more character-specific limitations, too.

First off, he had to be familiar with the character’s abilities. He wouldn’t gain access to any powers that hadn’t been shown in the manga yet.

He tested this with Ging Freecss, using the latest chapters. While Izuku could use all the Nen abilities Ging had shown in the story, those techniques weren’t Ging’s own. They were copied and altered from another Nen user who had attacked him earlier.

However, since Ging was stated to be among the top five Nen users in the world, Izuku still gained full mastery over the basic and advanced applications of Nen, even if they hadn’t been explicitly depicted him using them.

While copying Ging, his Nen control was incredible.

He also confirmed that his Quirk could only replicate the abilities mastered at the moment the image was from. For example, if he copied Gon or Killua during the Heaven’s Arena arc, he could only use the abilities they had at that time, even if he already knew they’d grow even stronger afterward.

But if he used an image from a later arc—like the Chimera Ant arc—he would gain their more advanced techniques.

In short, the source material mattered.

And that led to perhaps the most painful limitation of his Quirk:

Lightning hurt like hell.

Well—more precisely, if an ability had negative side effects in the story, Izuku would experience them fully. Not with the character’s body, but with his own.

Whether it was shortened lifespan or extreme pain, he would feel it all.

He learned that lesson while copying Killua.

A boy raised from childhood to be an assassin. A boy was fed poisons from birth to build immunity. A boy tortured by his own family to train his resistance to pain.

It wasn’t that Killua didn’t feel pain—he had simply learned to endure it. Including electric shocks.

That endurance became the foundation for Killua’s own Nen ability, or Hatsu. By transmuting his aura into electricity, he developed a set of powerful techniques. One of them—Godspeed—granted him high-speed movement and reflexes by stimulating his nervous system with lightning.

Naturally, Izuku didn’t have a body trained for that. No shock resistance. No tolerance for pain. No assassin training

Thank goodness he didn’t try to activate Godspeed. It might’ve killed him.

Even using just Lightning Palm—transmuting his Nen into electricity around his hands—was agony. It hurt like hell.

Good thing his mom wasn’t home. She would’ve definitely put an end to his “experimenting.” Luckily she had the night shift during her nursing job in the hospital.

Still, he’d already filled an entire new notebook with theories, observations, and potential applications for his Quirk. There was so much more to discover.

But the most pressing question now was

Did his Quirk only work with Hunter x Hunter?

If his logic was right, then it should be possible to use any ability from any fictional character—from any manga, anime, or comic.

The only problem?

He didn’t own any other manga or comics.

Up until now, he had always relied on digital copies—they were cheaper, after all. Physical manga were expensive, especially since the prices had skyrocketed in recent years.

Ever since Quirks appeared—bringing with them heroes and villains—the entertainment market had been devastated. Society’s attention turned toward real-life superpowers. The manga industry in Japan practically died during the upheaval caused by the emergence of Quirks.

Only in recent years—after All Might had restored peace and stability—had the market started to recover.

Even now, the manga industry remained relatively niche. But at least reprints of old works were gaining popularity again. Although… they weren’t cheap.

Which meant Izuku had no choice but to sacrifice more of his funds if he wanted to continue experimenting.

Still, it was for his future. A Quirk like his practically guaranteed him a spot in U.A. University’s Hero Course.

He didn’t hesitate.

He immediately started ordering samples from different mediums and franchises, investing his savings into physical copies.

All for the sake of mastering his Quirk.

Through all his excitement, at some point in the night he had to end his experimentation since he still had school tomorrow.

Another day in his personal hell again.

———

So far, Izuku Midoriya’s school day had seemed like just another chapter in the long, exhausting novel of his third year at Aldera High School. The kind of day that blurred into all the others—tired yawns in homeroom, apathetic chatter between classes, and the usual feeling of being invisible to everyone around him.

Almost.

Today’s lesson had taken a slightly different turn. The class had been discussing their future plans—hopes and ambitions for life after junior high. It was a bit off-topic for a random weekday, but still a fitting subject for students in their final year. After all, by this time next year, they’d all be on separate paths.

For most students, the conversation passed with polite interest. But when it came to Izuku…

Of course, he couldn’t just quietly state his dream like everyone else. Not with a teacher who seemed to have a personal grudge against him. No, his teacher had made sure to emphasize his response with the same venomous tone usually reserved for liars and delinquents.

When it came to discussing their career forms, data protection only applied for the other students. His teacher had no problem with revealing his own.

“Huh, Midoriya says he’s planning to apply to U.A.”

That sentence hung in the air like a bad smell.

Silence.

Then thirty pairs of eyes turned toward him, some with disbelief, others with thinly veiled amusement, mocking him. But the loudest reaction, as always, came from one voice.

“WHAT DID YOU JUST SAY?!”

“DEKU!” Bakugo Katsuki—his childhood friend turned tormentor—erupted like a short-fused firecracker. Izuku could almost hear the crackle of his Quirk building beneath the desk. “You’re trying to ruin my origin story or something, you Quirkless trash, huh?! What kind of pathetic joke is this?!”

Izuku kept his gaze low. He just had to shout it like that, huh? At least he didn’t attack him directly in front of the teacher.

He had considered it—just for a moment—telling them all that he had awakened his Quirk. That he wasn't Quirkless. That the diagnosis they had all not believed in and began to mock him over had been right. But looking around at the faces of people who had never given him the time of day, who had labeled him worthless just because he and the doctors for many years didn’t know what his quirk was… he knew it wasn't worth it.

Why should he chase the recognition of people who had gone out of their way to tear him down? Why seek validation from those who'd laughed at his dreams for so long?

He didn’t want their fake smiles, their shallow apologies, or their sudden interest. They could keep all that. Izuku would show them, and then they would regret it once it was too late.

There was less than a year left in this miserable excuse for a school. He could endure that. He’d endured worse. If he had to grit his teeth and bear it while quietly mastering his Quirk, then so be it.

Unfortunately, the day didn’t end with the class laughing at his ambition.

As he was slipping his most recent notebook—Hero Analysis for the Future, Volume 13—into his bag, he felt it snatched from his hands.

His effort of preparing himself for a future as a hero even without a quirk. Studying Quirks for their weaknesses was just grabbed from him.

“I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but we’re not done yet, Deku.”

The familiar snarl made Izuku flinch before he even turned around. Bakugo.

Izuku’s fingers instinctively twitched, brushing the edges of four carefully selected Hunter x Hunter volumes nestled deep in his backpack. He had chosen them with purpose—each one featuring one or several powerful characters on the cover whose Nen abilities might come in handy in a pinch.

Bakugo raised the notebook high, smirking as he waved it in front of his lackeys. “What’s this?”

“Don’t tell me you’re still taking notes on how to be a hero!” one of the two lackeys guffawed. “Seriously, that’s just sad.”

“He’s completely lost it,” the other sneered.

Izuku stared at them—not with fear, not even with embarrassment. He was calculating. He had options. He could activate his Quirk and channel one of the abilities stored within the manga volumes. But...

He didn’t want to reveal his hand here. Not like this. Not for them.

“Very funny,” he said calmly, though the heat in his chest betrayed the effort it took to stay composed. “Now can you give it back? That’s private property.”

Bakugo's smirk twisted. Without warning, he slammed the notebook between his palms. A small, sharp pop rang out, followed by smoke and the acrid smell of burnt paper. The explosion reduced Izuku’s treasured notes to charred paper.

“That’s so mean…” Izuku muttered, voice soft but trembling. His hand now gripped one of the manga volumes—Volume 34, Chrollo Lucilfer and Hisoka on the cover—firmly, instinctively. As his Quirk activated, his two fingers touching Chrollo’s depiction, he could feel his Nen begin to swirl around him, adapting to the changes as he instinctively gained a new set of abilities and knowledge.

He had chosen four volumes in total, each one prepared in advance. No need to flip through pages under pressure. Each character had a purpose. Chrollo’s strategic versatility made him ideal for control and defense with his large selection of Nen Abilities, especially during his fight with Hisoka.

Izuku’s entire body tensed, ready to react.

But Bakugo wasn’t done. With casual disdain, he flung the charred remnants of the notebook out the nearby window. Izuku lunged, arm outstretched, but it was already too late. His hard work, his thoughts and observations, and his preparations landed in the koi pond outside.

Something stirred within him.

Hatred.

It was strange. Foreign. It didn’t feel like him. And yet… it settled easily into place.

Bakugo continued talking, oblivious or uncaring. “You know, real heroes show promise early. People just know when someone’s going to make it. And when I’m the only one from this trash school to get into U.A., everyone’s going to start talking about me. I’ll be the next big thing. That’s not ego—it’s fact.”

‘No ego, my ass,’ Izuku thought coldly, his jaw tightening. ‘That’s not heroic at all.’

Bakugo noticed the glare and sneered. Small sparks crackled at his fingertips. “Here’s some advice, nerd. Don’t even think of applying. Or else—”

His palm landed on Izuku’s shoulder, heat pulsing against his skin through a micro-explosion. Smoke rose from the fabric, but Izuku didn’t move.

He didn’t even flinch.

Thanks to Ten, his aura had reinforced his body. What would’ve caused him to cry out the day before now felt like a light sting.

He stared at Bakugo in silence, eyes unblinking.

Izuku could fight back. He had a Quirk now. He had Nen abilities copied from one of the most dangerous tacticians in manga. He had options. But…

He knew how that would end. Even if he won—even if he humiliated them right there—it would become a stain on his record. A reason to keep him out of U.A. forever.

Years of watching pro heroes, studying their strategies, and understanding their mentalities—it had taught him more than just combat skills. It taught him patience. Control. Perspective.

And he wasn’t strong enough yet. Not physically. He had never pushed his body beyond the basics. One afternoon of playing around with Nen Abilities in their small apartment wasn’t enough. He didn’t even know his limits yet. How could he? It would have damaged their home.

And what if the teachers sided with Bakugo again?

It was highly likely. They always had.

From Aldera Elementary to Aldera High, it had been the same staff, the same principal, and the same indifference. Aldera was a big school with sections for all age groups thanks to their wealthy sponsor, Deternat. But they had turned a blind eye to his suffering. Some had even subtly encouraged it. He couldn’t trust them. He couldn’t risk them labeling him a threat just because he now had a Quirk.

They always hated him for his quirkiness. What if they decided that now that he had a Quirk, he was too dangerous and would potentially want revenge on them? Izuku was just a lone student in a shitty school; they had all the cards right now.

But even as he tried to stay calm, his thoughts began to twist.

‘Pay them back in the future.’

He froze.

‘Are those really my thoughts? That’s… not like me. I’m not like that. So why do I feel this way? Is Nen doing something to my head?’

Nen was deeply connected to emotion. And Chrollo—cold, calculated, composed, yet ruthless—was not someone known for mercy, someone who could massacre innocents without blinking. And he was also vengeful. Izuku wasn’t copying his body or raw power, but… what if copying his abilities also touched the edges of his mindset? If Nen is affected by emotions, and his own Nen adapted to Chrollo’s abilities, copying the man, were his emotions and his mindset also affected?

The idea chilled him.

It confused him so much that, for a brief moment, he tuned out the world around him. His adversaries mistook his silence for fear and walked out, victorious in their minds.

But then, Bakugo stopped at the door.

He turned, voice dripping venom. “You know, if you really want to be a hero that badly, maybe pray to be born with a Quirk in your next life. And while you’re at it—why not take a swan dive off the roof?”

Silence.

The words echoed through the empty classroom.

Izuku didn’t move. Not outwardly. But inside, something locked into place.

He wouldn’t report it to the police—not because Bakugo didn’t deserve consequences, but because that route wouldn’t satisfy anything. It wouldn’t teach Bakugo why he was wrong. It would just put him on the route of a vigilante or even a villain if he was prevented from ever becoming a hero.

It wouldn’t crush Bakugo’s misplaced pride.

But success? Outshining him at U.A., rising through the ranks, and becoming the hero Bakugo thought he had a monopoly on becoming? That would sting.

That would break him. If Izuku crushed him at every step, it would hurt far more than just not becoming a hero.

Maybe it wasn’t the true mindset of a hero, but Izuku didn’t care right now.

His suffering had groomed him into a self-sacrificial idiot. But his temporary emotional change had opened his eyes.

He could be a great hero, with his current potential the greatest one. And at the same time he could make the ones who harmed him all his life suffer.

Izuku would protect the innocents with a smile, giving them comfort and safety.

But they were not innocents. He could see it. They tried to push him into suicide because of something he had no control over.

Worst of all, it was something that wasn’t even true. Never did the doctors say he was quirkless.

And actual Quirkless probably suffered the same all over the world. By becoming a great hero and making these villains pay, Izuku could become an amazing hero.

Making Bakugo and Aldera pay was just one step on his path.

Something that had his work cut out for him.

After all, he had to train a lot first. Getting his body and abilities ready for U.A. if he wanted to crush Bakugo.