My hero academia:Am I worthy?

Flying through the city, Izuku relished the feeling of soaring, clinging to buildings as he went. He flew past a residential complex, his tendrils grasping onto a wall, cherishing each movement granted to him on this fateful day. However, with the acquisition of power came a fierce anger and a ravenous hunger gnawing at his mind. Izuku wondered if these were side effects of the symbiote, which had yet to even be named. Mentally, he noted to ask his companion about its abilities, what it could do, and the cost of wielding such power, as well as the consequences he might face if he were to misuse this quirk. After all, everything in this world had a price, and this power was no exception. For now, he basked in the joy of flight.

The night air was fresh and cool against Izuku's face as he darted between skyscrapers. The symbiotic tendrils extended, releasing a black web that latched onto ledges, antennas, and streetlights, allowing him to glide over the city's streets at incredible speed.

Every movement was graceful and powerful. As he gained altitude, the wind whipped through his hair, leaving the noise of the city far behind. With each new leap or swing of the web, Izuku felt euphoria coursing through his entire body.

"That's what I call movement!" the symbiote's voice echoed in his mind. "You've finally started using our power properly."

"You're right," Izuku smiled, doing a somersault in the air. "It's just incredible!"

He soared even higher for a better view. From above, the night city looked like a living organism: millions of lights from cars, street lamps, and windows formed a glittering web of light.

For a moment, Izuku paused, balancing on one of the webs stretched between two buildings like a tightrope walker. His eyes eagerly absorbed the view, and his heart beat with excitement.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" he asked the symbiote.

"Beautiful?" the symbiote scoffed.

Izuku didn't reply, launching the web once more. He took a long leap, fully trusting his newfound abilities. At one point, he allowed himself to take a risk: he severed the web and fell freely, feeling a rush of adrenaline as the wind roared past him at breakneck speed.

Before hitting the asphalt, he activated wings — thin membranes resembling a wingsuit that unfurled instantly from the symbiotic costume. They caught him gently, allowing him to glide smoothly over the street.

"Ha-ha! This is amazing!" Izuku shouted, unable to contain his joy.

"You're beginning to understand what it means to be us," the symbiote added with a smirk.

Izuku folded the wings, releasing a new web, and rose again. His movements became more confident and natural. Every swing, every jump was polished, as if he had been part of this synergy with the symbiote his whole life.

Finally, he approached his home. Descending from another ledge, he landed softly on the roof, almost silently. The night city faded into the background, but the feeling of freedom still pulsed in his chest.

He sat on the edge of the roof, gazing at the stars shimmering on the horizon.

"That was amazing," he whispered.

"We can do more, Izuku," the symbiote replied, a slight triumph in its voice. "This is just the beginning."

Izuku allowed himself to smile. For a moment, he felt that he now possessed something greater than just power. He had the sky.

Yet a significant question remained: how to remove the suit and return to his normal state? Izuku wondered if he could even take it off.

"Um, I'm thrilled with these abilities, but how do I return to my ordinary human form?" Izuku asked politely, without anger, to which the symbiote chuckled and replied:

"Imagine your normal self and your clothes, and before you know it, you'll be back to ordinary Izuku."

Closing his eyes, Izuku envisioned himself shedding the suit, returning to his usual state. At that moment, he began to feel the symbiotic suit retreating, retracting back into his body. Opening his eyes, he saw the tendrils slowly drawing into his skin, revealing his own skin. Looking down at his chest, he saw he was dressed in his signature T-shirt and shorts. Surprised by the turn of events, Izuku inspected his back and found no trace of the black slime.

"Convenient," he remarked, smiling at the ease of removing the suit. Heading toward the door leading to the roof, Izuku recalled how he had ended up there and how he managed to leave the house. Patting his pockets, he found nothing and decided to ask the symbiote.

"How did I end up on the roof, and how did I get out of the house without keys?"

The symbiote chuckled, its head emerging from Izuku's chest, grinning slyly.

"It's simple: when you were asleep, I left your house through the window and moved us to this roof."

Hearing this, Izuku felt a chill run down his spine and assumed that this could happen again.

"And how do we get back home if I don't have keys or anything?" he asked, to which the symbiote smiled and pointed a tendril at the building's wall.

"Touch the wall, and you'll see that you'll stick to it. You can enter through the window that way."

Awkwardly scratching his head, Izuku approached the edge of the roof and touched the wall with his hand. When he tried to pull away, he felt his hand stick. Deciding to place his other hand, he began moving along the wall. The symbiote then suggested a new alternative for faster movement.

"Stand with your feet on the wall, and you'll realize you can walk on it just like you do on the ground."

Standing upright, Izuku felt dizzy from his newfound abilities.

"Whoa," he said, walking carefully along the roof to avoid falling. But the symbiote quickly reassured him.

"Don't worry, you won't fall. As long as I'm here, you'll never hit the ground."

Trusting its words, Izuku quickened his pace, and finally, seeing his window, he entered his darkened room. Looking around to ensure no one saw him, he quickly shut the window and exhaled heavily.

"Whew, that was both cool and strange. Before I start asking a lot of questions, I want to know your name," he said.

The symbiote emerged from the host's chest again, meeting Izuku's gaze, who sat on the floor, catching his breath and processing everything.

"I have no name, and your human concepts are alien and incomprehensible to me. But if we continue our symbiosis, I might understand them," the symbiote whispered, to which Izuku looked at it with puzzlement.

"Does that mean you're not from our world? Are you some sort of being from another realm? How did you find me, and why choose me?" Izuku quickly asked, as the symbiote extended from his chest, studying Izuku's room.

"One might say so. Yes, I'm not from your world; I arrived here on an asteroid. Your world is full of novelties for me. My nature is such that without a host, I cannot survive. I need a host for survival, and there is no better host than you."

Hearing this, a lump formed in Izuku's throat. Nobody had ever deemed him worthy, yet this creature in front of him chose him and granted him a fantastic power he couldn't have dreamed of. No one believed in him, not even his idol, but this extraterrestrial being believed in him and considered him worthy. Even his mother didn't believe in his dream, but the symbiote not only believed, it allowed him to be a hero, and thanks to that, he saved a person. Overcome with emotion, Izuku wept before it, feeling awkward, but this being, which believed in him and his dream, became the one who would help him. The symbiote, observing his state, couldn't bear it and, using a tendril, handed him a towel to wipe his tears.

"Thank you," Izuku said.

Not understanding his gratitude, the symbiote merely nodded, continuing to observe him. It realized that its host was exceptionally unusual. Not as mature as those it had bonded with and killed, but not only did he not kill him, upon merging, he saw his life and memories. The symbiosis of human and alien became fantastic, and the symbiote concluded that a host like Izuku Midoriya was one in a million, if not a billion.

"But how did you find me? People like me are almost invisible. Why did you choose a quirkless person when there are those with powerful quirks, compared to whom I am nothing?" Izuku asked, barely holding back his emotions.

The symbiote turned to him, its smile fading.

"I found you on that very rooftop with your idol and saw him hit you. Hearing from you that you were quirkless, I realized you were the perfect choice for me. The reason I chose you is that I can't merge with those who have quirks. They reject me, and once I resist and use my power, I kill them. By scanning their memories, I learned about some Re:Destro and about the quirkless."

Izuku listened intently to the symbiote, and the questions about how the alien knew the human language vanished instantly. Instead, he asked another question, which prompted the symbiote to turn to him.

"What do you want?"

"What do I want? I want to survive, and I need a host, I need sustenance. I chose you because you are the ideal body for me. What you choose to do doesn't concern me, but I'm interested in how you will use my powers and how far our symbiosis can go."

Rising from the floor, Izuku switched to his usual analytical mode. Before him stood a whim, but one that was alive and sentient. This surprised him, but what concerned him more was what the alien fed on if not human flesh. Realizing that he might have to eat human meat, he felt uneasy.

"What do you eat? And what were those voices I heard when I fought those villains in the alley?"

"I eat what you eat. If you consume regular food, you replenish calories. If you're full, so am I. It all depends on the food you consume. If it's rich in vitamins and minerals, it will sate my hunger. In short, if you eat well and don't feel hungry, you won't have issues," the symbiote smirked as Izuku's stomach growled, interrupting him. It stretched, looking at Izuku, pointing to the kitchen.

"Alright, I get the food part. What about the voices?"

"Those voices aren't mine, they're yours. I not only feed on what you eat but also on your emotions. For instance, at that moment, I amplify emotions. If you feel anger and rage, our abilities increase, but you lose control over yourself. You become three or four times stronger, but I start draining you until I kill you and extract all your life energy, resulting in your death."

Pausing, the symbiote looked at Izuku, who was stunned by this turn of events. Seeing the contemplative expression on his host's face, the symbiote continued.

"The voices in your head are your thoughts and wishes. You feel the emotions, not me. I merely amplify them. So be careful with what you desire and wish for, and be cautious with your emotions."

Izuku couldn't believe the symbiote's words. What he heard in his head was the result of his thoughts, which he hid from everyone. Seeing their actions, he was horrified and vowed to always control himself and his emotions.

"Let's eat; thinking on an empty stomach isn't the best idea," he suggested, to which the symbiote widened its grin and opened the door, heading to the kitchen.

Izuku stood in his apartment's kitchen, carefully reading a katsudon recipe on his phone. Around him lay the ingredients: fresh pork cutlet, eggs, green onions, soy sauce, breadcrumbs, and a bowl of flour. He had always loved cooking, but now, with the symbiote, the process promised to be... interesting.

"Alright, let's start with the cutlet," Izuku murmured, taking a piece of meat and placing it on the cutting board.

"What are you doing?" asked the symbiote, its voice echoing from the depths of Izuku's mind.

"Making katsudon. It's a dish my mom used to make for me when I was little," he replied with a smile, recalling all the warm memories associated with her, and began tenderizing the meat with a mallet.

"Hmm... that sounds strange. You're hitting the meat to make it soft?"

"Yes. It improves the texture," Izuku explained.

The symbiote grunted, clearly not understanding the beauty of the process.

When the meat was ready, Izuku placed a pan on the stove and poured oil into it to heat up. Then he began preparing the breading.

"First, dredge the cutlet in flour, then dip it in egg, and finally in breadcrumbs," Izuku muttered, performing each step methodically.

"Why is this so complicated?" the symbiote wondered. "Why not just eat the meat raw? It would be faster."

Izuku paused, realizing the symbiote might have... peculiar preferences.

"Raw meat isn't something people usually eat, especially in dishes like this. Katsudon is about the combination of flavors and textures," he explained patiently.

"People complicate things too much," the symbiote scoffed. "But I'll watch what you come up with."

The cutlets were already sizzling in the hot pan, emitting an appetizing sizzle. Izuku carefully turned them, making sure each side was evenly golden.

"Smells good," the symbiote acknowledged as the aroma of fried meat filled the kitchen.

"Thank you," Izuku replied, placing the cooked cutlets on a plate and covering them to keep warm.

Now he turned to the sauce. In a small saucepan, he mixed soy sauce, sugar, dashi, and a bit of mirin, stirring gently until the mixture started to simmer.

"Are you memorizing all this?" he asked.

"No," the symbiote answered honestly. "But I enjoy watching you do it."

Izuku chuckled.

"At least you're honest."

Once the sauce was ready, he carefully sliced the cutlet into pieces and laid them over hot rice in a bowl. He then poured the sauce over the meat and topped it with a lightly beaten egg. A few more minutes under the lid, and the dish was nearly ready.

"Just need to add some green onions," he said, sprinkling the dish with fresh slices.

Izuku set the bowl on the table and sat down. The symbiote remained silent, as if waiting.

"So, how do you like it?" Izuku asked, cutting a piece and bringing it to his mouth.

He closed his eyes, savoring the taste. It was exactly as he remembered from childhood: warm, hearty, perfectly balanced.

"This..." the symbiote began, as if hesitating, "isn't bad."

Izuku smiled.

"I'm glad you like it."

"Perhaps I underestimated your kind. Maybe cooking isn't such a waste of time after all," the symbiote reluctantly admitted.

"Thank you," Izuku said, eating another piece.

They continued their meal, discussing human habits, as the symbiote learned more about Izuku's human side. It was a simple yet significant moment in their growing bond.

Izuku pushed the empty bowl away and sighed contentedly.

"That was amazing," he said, leaning back in his chair.

"Surprising that this kitchen fuss was worth the result," the symbiote muttered. "But you proved it was time well spent."

"I'm glad you enjoyed it," Izuku replied with a smile, getting up from the table. "But now it's time for the most boring part — doing the dishes."

He gathered the dirty plates, bowls, and utensils, placing them in the sink and turning on the hot water. In a few moments, the kitchen was filled with the gentle sound of running water.

"Why is this necessary?" the symbiote asked as Izuku applied detergent to the sponge.

"If you don't wash the dishes, they'll remain dirty, greasy, and full of bacteria," Izuku explained, starting to scrub a bowl. "You wouldn't want all that on our plates, would you?"

"We could just eat the bacteria," the symbiote suggested with complete seriousness.

Izuku chuckled.

"Well, maybe you can, but I can't."

He vigorously scrubbed one of the bowls until it gleamed. Then he rinsed it under the stream of water and placed it on the drying rack.

"It's a process. Cleanliness is the key to health," he added, reaching for the next plate.

"Humans have too many rules," the symbiote noted with slight irritation. "But you're persistent. You like this order, don't you?"

Izuku pondered, continuing to work with the sponge.

"You know, I think I do. It's calming. Cooking and cleaning, they're like a familiar ritual. Something I can control, even when the world around me becomes chaotic."

"Hmm. You're strange," the symbiote grumbled.

"And you don't like order?" Izuku teased, rinsing the next knife and setting it aside.

"I like destroying enemies, not fussing with dishes."

"Well, destroying enemies doesn't happen every day. But dishes are always there," Izuku replied with a smile.

They continued this way until all the dishes were washed, dried, and neatly arranged on the shelves.

Izuku wiped his hands with a towel and surveyed the kitchen, now gleaming with cleanliness.

"All done," he said with satisfaction. "Thanks for keeping me company, symbiote."

"If I hear the word 'dishes' again, I'll make you jump out the window," the symbiote warned darkly, but there was a hint of humor in its voice.

Izuku just laughed.

"Alright, before I go to sleep, I need to record our abilities and give you a name."

"Why is that necessary?" the symbiote, not understanding human customs, merely snorted but continued to observe the host, muttering to himself and filling out a notebook. This piqued the symbiote's curiosity, and it reluctantly drew its head closer, examining what he was writing.

Entry Number 1

Abilities: Releasing tendrils, wall-crawling, flight on wings, use of tendrils in combat. Super strength and speed. The ability to change the costume at will.

"These are all the abilities for now. In the future, I'll write down the cost of such power and the consequences."

Entry number one completed. Finishing the entry, Izuku turned his head and saw the symbiote's inquisitive look, not understanding why and for what he was writing.

"Why are you writing this, Izuku?" it asked, and Izuku chuckled but decided to answer quite seriously.

"It's my habit or hobby. I analyze heroes and villains. Their strengths and weaknesses. By writing about our abilities, we can become stronger. I don't know your weaknesses yet, but we'll find out in the future. Through analysis, we can become better and stronger by eliminating weaknesses."

Satisfied with the answer, the symbiote merely grunted, watching as Izuku used his new abilities. Tendrils began to extend from Izuku's hand, and grabbing the notebook, his hand started to cover in black mass. Finally, he placed his notebook on the table, sitting on the floor. The movements were awkward; it was clear Izuku was trying, at which the symbiote merely smiled.

"So, about a name. Do you have any ideas on what I should call you?"

"I have no idea. A name is a human concept, and I don't know much about your human things," the symbiote replied, continuing to study the room.

"So what 'name' do you want to give me?"

Izuku pondered, considering dozens of options. He wanted the name to be simple yet meaningful.

"Andy," he finally said, softly smiling.

"Andy?" the symbiote repeated, its voice tinged with surprise.

"Yes," Izuku nodded. "It sounds friendly. Simple and homely. I think it suits you, especially now that we're working together."

"Andy..." the symbiote drew out, as if tasting the name. Its voice held a strange mix of discontent and intrigue. "It's too... soft for me."

"You're more than just strength, Andy," Izuku replied warmly. "You're more than just a weapon or a means of combat. You're part of me. This name reflects what you can become."

The symbiote remained silent for a moment, then spoke with light sarcasm:

"Alright, Izuku. Let it be Andy. But if any of our enemies hear this, I..."

"What will you do?" Izuku interrupted with a smile.

"Nothing," the symbiote grumbled, but its tone became warmer. "Alright, let's say I have a name now. Andy it is."

Izuku smiled, feeling a lightness in his heart.

"Welcome to the team, Andy."

"I've been in the team for a while, silly boy," the symbiote replied with mock irritation.

But Izuku could hear a faint note of gratitude behind those words.

Early in the morning, Nejire woke up earlier than usual. Her eyes were heavy from sleeplessness, and her thoughts wouldn't let her rest. She lay in her room, staring at the ceiling. The image of Izuku from yesterday's report lingered in her mind, as vivid as ever.

"Why are they so cruel?" she whispered to herself, clutching a pillow tightly.

She remembered his face: the dirt, sweat, fingers clenched from the cold, the exhausted Fuyumi on his shoulders. He looked so fragile and vulnerable, yet he kept moving forward despite the pain and judgment. Even now, Nejire felt her heart clench at the memory.

She got out of bed and went to the window. The street outside was just beginning to come alive. People hurried to work, children ran to school. In their world, everything was as usual; no one remembered yesterday's incident.

But Nejire couldn't forget.

She sat at her desk, opened her laptop, and typed Izuku Midoriya's name into the search bar. Articles, videos, discussions — it all poured over her like an avalanche. She read several headlines:

"Quirkless hero or just a fool?"

"Heroic act or recklessness? Why Midoriya shouldn't have intervened"

"The Almighty condemns the action of a quirkless teenager."

Her eyes skimmed the comments under one of the articles.

"This guy is just seeking attention."

"He's a disgrace to real heroes."

"What an idiot. Why even try to be a hero without a quirk?"

Tears flowed down her cheeks on their own. She quickly wiped them away, but the sense of helplessness and anger didn't fade.

"It's not true," she whispered, staring at the screen. "They don't understand what he did. They don't see who he really is."

She closed the laptop and resolved that today, at school, she would be strong. She wouldn't let others continue this judgment. Izuku deserved better.

Nejire, still shaken by the events, headed to school. Her thoughts were occupied solely with Izuku. The image of his downcast face, eyes full of pain, and the mockery echoing through the crowd wouldn't leave her mind. She hadn't slept well, and her heart felt heavy.

Entering the school building, she tried to remain calm, but a storm raged in her chest. Nejire hoped none of her classmates had paid attention to the news, that no one would discuss it.

However, as she approached the door of her classroom, she heard laughter. Loud, mocking, it echoed down the hallway.

"Did you see? That weird guy tried to play hero!" someone said loudly.

"He just doesn't get how ridiculous it looks!" another voice replied, choking with laughter.

"A hero without a quirk… He's just embarrassing people like us!"

Nejire froze. Her hands clenched into fists. She couldn't believe that her classmates were discussing Izuku, yet there was no doubt about it. She entered the classroom, trying to project confidence.

"Oh, look, Nejire! You've seen that loser hero too, right?" one of her classmates sneered, a mocking grin on his face. "Maybe you can tell us how he inspires you?"

The class erupted into laughter once more.

"That's not funny," Nejire said firmly, casting her gaze over her classmates. Her voice was calm, but there was an undercurrent of pain. "You're mocking someone who risked his life to save another. How is that wrong?"

The laughter gradually subsided, leaving a tense silence hanging in the air. One student, frowning, stepped forward.

"Oh, come on, Nejire," he said, crossing his arms over his chest. "Are you really defending that weirdo? He'll never be anything without a quirk. Even All Might acknowledged that."

"So what?" she retorted sharply, her voice rising. "A quirk isn't everything. He has courage and a kind heart. He did something none of you would dare to do."

Her words provoked a murmur of discontent. Some began to whisper, others chuckled, and one student smirked, ready to add fuel to the fire.

"Oh, I get it!" exclaimed one of the girls with a fake smile. "Nejire's just in love with that quirkless guy! That's why she's defending him so fiercely!"

Laughter filled the classroom again, but this time it was directed at Nejire.

"Of course, that explains everything!" another chimed in. "Maybe we should set you two up on a date? A hero without a quirk and our beautiful Hado — sounds like a perfect plot for a romantic drama!"

Nejire felt her face flush a deep red. But it wasn't embarrassment—it was anger.

"Enough!" she shouted, slamming her hand on the desk. The class fell silent, stunned by her sudden outburst. She lifted her head, her eyes ablaze. "You all forget that being a hero isn't just about having power! It's about bravery, about wanting to help others, no matter what! And Izuku did that while the rest stood by!"

Her voice trembled, but she pressed on: "You can laugh all you want. But one day you'll realize that a true hero isn't the one with the strongest quirk. It's the one with the biggest heart."

Her words hung in the air. The class stared at her in silence, but soon someone snorted dismissively, and the laughter resumed.

"Alright, alright, don't get all heated," one of the guys said, waving her off. "Let's see how far your hero without a quirk gets."

Nejire didn't reply. She gathered her things and left the classroom, slamming the door behind her. Her heart was pounding, and tears threatened to spill once more, but she didn't regret a single word.

"I won't let them treat him like that," she whispered to herself. "Never."

Wiping away her tears, she made a new promise to Izuku.

"Izuku, I promise no one will tarnish your name. Your noble act showed me that true heroism lies not just in quirks, but in kindness," she whispered, sitting in her room after school.

Her father had returned from work late, around 9 PM, and upon seeing his daughter awake, staring at the computer screen, he grew concerned.

It was late evening. The room was dimly lit, illuminated only by the bluish glow of the laptop screen. Nejire sat at the desk, elbows resting on the tabletop, head propped in her hands. Headlines about Izuku, his photographs, and comments flashed across the screen.

"Quirkless hero or madman?"

"Reckless heroism of a teenager sparks criticism."

Her gaze skimmed the text, but it was as if she read nothing. Her eyes were red from exhaustion, and her lashes were speckled with the remnants of dried tears. Her hair, usually neatly arranged, was disheveled, with long strands falling unevenly over her shoulders, some sticking out at odd angles.

Nejire looked lost. She had spent hours scrolling through articles, comments, and videos. Words filled with malice and mockery seemed to poison her thoughts, leaving deep wounds in her soul.

A cup of tea, long cold, sat on the table. A stack of textbooks lay forgotten on the shelf. Shadows lay under her eyes, and her face had a pale hue.

She sighed softly, brushing her hair from her face.

"Why don't they understand..." she whispered to herself, clasping her hands tightly.

Footsteps outside the door startled her. The door creaked open gently, and her father peeked inside. His police uniform was slightly rumpled, and his face bore signs of fatigue from a long shift. But seeing his daughter, he frowned.

"Nejire? Why aren't you asleep yet?" His voice was soft but concerned.

She turned, trying to muster a smile, but her weary face betrayed her true state.

"Just... couldn't sleep," she replied quietly, turning back to the screen.

Her father entered the room, surveying the scene. His gaze lingered on the laptop.

"News? About that boy again?" he asked, sitting on the edge of her bed.

Nejire didn't respond, only nodded, running a hand through her hair.

"You're worried about him, aren't you?" he continued, watching his daughter intently.

"Of course," she whispered, struggling to keep her voice steady. "It's unfair, Dad. Izuku did something others wouldn't dare. And now everyone just mocks him."

Her father sighed heavily, rubbing his forehead with a hand. His dark eyes, so much like hers, filled with sadness.

"People often fear those who don't fit their idea of normal," he said, trying to speak calmly. "But that doesn't mean he did something wrong. You see him for who he truly is, and that matters."

Nejire looked up at him, tears brimming in her eyes.

"He doesn't deserve any of this," she said softly. "He's kind, strong. He saved someone, risking his life. Why can't anyone see that?"

Her father leaned forward, gently brushing her hair from her face.

"You're tired, just like he is," he said gently. "You can't change everyone around you. But you can remain someone who believes in him. And for that, you need to regain your strength."

Nejire shook her head, but her father gently closed the laptop.

"You won't be able to help him if you fall apart," he said firmly, yet warmly.

Her shoulders trembled, and, clenching her teeth, she turned away. Tears streamed down her cheeks once again.

"I just... want him to know he's not alone," she whispered.

Her father nodded, standing up.

"He knows, Nejire. At least, if I understand anything about people. But now you need to rest. Tomorrow is a new day."

He kissed the top of her head and then left, leaving her alone with her thoughts. Nejire sat in silence. She knew her father was right, but the pain for Izuku wouldn't fade.

"I have to be strong for him," she told herself, quietly wiping her tears. "He would do the same for me."

8:00 PM, Mustafu City

One hour until the meeting with Dabi

Izuku was contemplating what to wear for his meeting with Dabi at the specified address. Looking at the map, he realized that public transportation would take about 16 minutes, whereas he could fly to the location in just 10 minutes.

"Why do we need your parents' costumes? We already have a suit. Isn't what I provide enough?" Andy said irritably, to which Izuku simply waved him off, explaining that they needed to create the impression of an underground hero.

"You know, I get that you can create a costume, and I like it too, but I suggest we dress up. If you think about it, we're essentially fighting naked, and one awkward hit could be painful."

Andy was unsatisfied, perhaps even more irritated by Izuku underestimating his capabilities. After all, he could regenerate, something Izuku didn't yet know.

"I don't understand why we need these rags. It's pointless," Venom remarked as Izuku sifted through his parents' belongings.

"Ah, found it," his gaze landed on his father's clothes, left behind before his departure. To be fair, they were decent. Since he could breathe fire, all his clothing was fireproof and could withstand considerable heat.

"If you don't know, fire quirks are very common, and we don't know how your nature will react to fire. So I suggest we have some protection against pyrokinetics."

Searching further and contemplating his hero's image, Izuku rummaged through the clothes while Andy held a book with his tendrils, reading it, delving deeper into human culture and customs: etiquette, family, and history, which Izuku had managed to pique Venom's interest in.

"Wow, I didn't even know Dad had such a stylish English coat and vest. Though the cloak looks grim, it has a certain charm," Izuku said, interrupting Andy from reading.

Noticing the coat, Venom merely grunted approvingly.

"Hmm, I must delve deeper into the world of fashion, for I cannot yet fully grasp your style or the nuances of modern trends. However, I must confess that black holds a special allure for me, surpassing all other colors," Venom said in an intellectual tone, catching Izuku's attention.

"I guess you enjoyed the etiquette book. Nice to hear you're turning from an alien into a gentleman," Izuku joked, pulling out his father's black pants and boots, but something still seemed missing to him.

Using his tendrils, Izuku accidentally knocked over a box containing a black fedora hat. Surprised by the discovery, he picked it up, blowing off the dust.

"I definitely like it," Venom commented.

But what surprised him more was the belt—not an ordinary one, but with special pockets for gadgets.

"It's time to put all this on, Izuku, and I think it's time we leave the house. Who knows, maybe we'll manage to save someone's life while we're on our way to Dabi," Venom said, still reading and not paying attention to Izuku.

First, under a regular white T-shirt, he donned a black turtleneck, then a leather vest, which was fireproof with large metal buttons.

"Not a bad combination," Izuku said, examining himself in the mirror.

"Indeed, not bad, considering you're without pants, just in your underwear," Venom quipped, making Izuku roll his eyes.

Next came the black pants, matching the color of the turtleneck and vest. Everything was secured with a peculiar belt that fit snugly but added style.

Putting on socks and finally lacing up the boots, Izuku donned the black English coat, which fit him closely, fastening it with buttons.

"Now you look like a brooding detective from a novel."

"Well, at least I have the sense not to wear flashy costumes at night."

"True," Venom quipped, handing Izuku the much-anticipated hat.

"Thank you," Izuku said, to which Venom replied:

"With great pleasure, I accept your praise, sir."

Venom was openly teasing Izuku, but he liked his manners, and finally, he put on the hat, adding black gloves to the ensemble to avoid leaving fingerprints.

"And so the superhero costume is complete," Venom said, watching Izuku adjust the hat.

"We didn't consider that it might fly off when we're swinging around the city, Venom. I think it's best to leave it at home."

"No, it perfectly complements the look. I'll keep it secure so it doesn't fall off," tendrils began forming around Izuku's face and finally wrapped around, revealing his black mask with large, menacing lenses.

"Let's fly!" Izuku shouted, leaping out of his house window.

A thick evening fog lay over the city streets as Izuku Midoriya soared over rooftops, cutting through the air like a shadow. His new costume—an elegant blend of darkness and sophistication—rendered his figure hauntingly enigmatic. The long black coat billowed behind him, reminiscent of raven wings, and the fedora sat low, partially obscuring the white lenses of his mask.

The city's noise echoed softly in the distance, muted as Izuku swung along the web, casting it from his hands. Venom amplified each of his movements, making his jumps longer and flights swifter. His boots softly touched the edges of roofs before he soared into the air again.

"You're not just a hero," Venom whispered in his mind.

Izuku didn't reply. His gaze was fixed on the bright flicker of lights down an alleyway. Something was happening there, and his instincts told him it needed his intervention.

In the alley, a car was ablaze, flames shooting high as thick smoke filled the street. A group of people stood around, some trying to break the windows to rescue someone inside, but the fire was growing stronger. Panic seized the crowd.

"Help! Someone, help!" cried a woman standing near the car.

Izuku landed on a nearby roof, watching the situation. The firelight reflected off his mask, accentuating the sharp lines of his costume. Without hesitation, he leaped down, landing right in front of the crowd.

"Back!" he commanded in a firm voice, his coat billowing slightly in the wind.

The people froze, startled by his sudden appearance.

"Who are you?" one of them asked.

Izuku didn't respond. He merely pushed the man away from the flames, cast out his symbiotic tendrils, and swiftly wrapped them around the car door. With one sharp motion, he tore it open, granting access inside.

A weak moan emanated from within. Inside was a man, strapped by a seatbelt and nearly unconscious. The flames drew ever closer, tongues of fire already singeing the seat upholstery.

"Move quickly," Venom urged him.

In seconds, Izuku was on the other side, ripping the seatbelt with his hands and pulling the victim out. The fire flared suddenly, but Izuku quickly flung out his tendrils, wrapping them around the edges of the burning car to slow the spread of the flames.

"Get away!" he shouted to the crowd, gently laying the man on the ground and stepping back.

One of the crowd members, trembling and stunned, finally managed to say:

"Thank you... Who are you?"

Izuku silently turned, tipped his hat in farewell, and soared into the air. His silhouette vanished into the smoke, leaving only an air of mystery behind.

Onlookers began filming Izuku on their cameras, capturing the striking image of his costume and large white lenses. As firefighters arrived to extinguish the blaze, the witnesses exchanged words:

"Did you see that? Who is he anyway?"

"I thought he was some kind of myth... He reminded me of a hero from old movies," one man said, watching the shadow on the rooftops.

"Just look at that costume! Is that a hat? And the coat... So stylish, yet terrifying..."

Voices mingled, but admiration was palpable.

Meanwhile, Izuku glided between buildings, his coat and hat standing out even in the dim streetlight.

"Isn't this a bit too dramatic?" Venom asked slyly as they soared over another roof.

"It's not drama," Izuku replied. "It's a symbol. People need to feel assured, even in the dark."

And the dark figure disappeared into the night, leaving behind only whispers of mystery and a saved life.

To be continued