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Can a Devil be a Hero?

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Can a Devil Be a Hero?

A My Hero Academia Fan Fic

By Egg Emperor


'The Interlogue before the Prologue'

Interlogos I:

Il paradiso dall'inferno ?

 

– What is Evil without Good to Confine it?

What is Good without Evil to Malign it?

Good is that which is not Evil,

Evil that which is not Good;

Light & Darkness

Black & White

Life & Death

Day and Night.

Many view the World this Way

But Some, instead see shades of Gray

Ambiguously the Truth does lay

Up to Us to Find it,

An’ in our Actions;

Define it! –

 

 

Dagobah Municipal Beach Park: Friday July 28th, 2276 CE – 8:43 PM

 

On the seaboard of Musutafu Japan, one of the many small cities that ring the Tokyo megalopolis, lay a certain beach.

Once a beautiful spot where young lovers would go to watch the ocean, it had long become strewn with an avalanche of trash; garbage dumped into the water for miles around was brought here by the winds and tides where it washed up covering the once white sands in filth.

Or at least it was, recently it had been cleaned nearly clear in the span of two months. There were now only a few objects left, mostly the odd paint can or soda bottle, yet to be piled into a trash bag.

A single old industrial refrigerator was the only large item to remain.

Against the derelict appliance, a tall, tan and well-built young man laid in the sand, his arms splayed to the side, it could almost be called lounging, if not for obvious the discomfort of his chosen rest.

As it were fifteen-year-old Izuku Midoriya was watching the sun set and thinking over the past two months and the batshit fucking insanity that had become his life.   

 

We live in a Superhuman society, long ago the world changed, the Supernatural became the totally normal, dreams a reality…

 

“Yeah, no fucking shit!” the tan teen half laughed, half spat, slamming his right fist into the soft sand.

It was the intro to “My quirk and Me” a series of quirk educational materials for children – books, videos, interactive games, the whole works.

Izuku had hated it, the wording was intended to make kids accept their quirks as special and unique gifts, perfect for them alone so they wouldn’t compare it those of other kids and feel inadequate.

But for a kid who had no quirk and would never have one, those words of encouragement were a stab right in the heart, each verse about “how lucky you were to have your quirk” another twist of the knife.

“I wonder what they would say if they knew just how Supernatural their world really was? That along with their reality of pretty little dreams came fucking nightmares that they could scarcely comprehend!” he hissed darkly, his body temperature soaring.

That there is a lot more to worry about that simple Villains.

That tangible, supernatural evil exists, more monstrous than anything man can devise.

That monsters are real and walk the night, looking for people to corrupt, kill and devour. His hand was glowing red hot.

That God and His Angels in Heaven don’t care about humanity. The sand sizzled and crackled under his palm.

“And that right below us is an endless hoard of demons waiting for someone stupid enough or insane enough to set them free, so they can devour every living thing on Earth!” he growled inhumanly, slamming his fist down again only to have it stick in a taffy of molten glass.

Starting in surprise, he blinked owlishly at the molten mess.

“Oops…” he snickered, the sheepish realization breaking him from his tirade, and allowing him to simmer down his quite literally flaming temper before it ignited his clothes.

Control was something he hadn’t fully got the hang of, especially when he got emotional, hell he was still occasionally tripping over his own two feet, he was still so unused to them.

At age fifteen, he, Izuku Midoriya was in the rather unique position of having to get used to simply being himself.

Then again, he thought looking at his reflection in an old discarded cookie sheet.

“I don’t exactly look like myself, do I?”

Even now he half expected to see a pale soft face, rounded with baby fat, cheeks dusted with light freckles and an average nose overlooking a painfully bright smile filled with glossy teeth. Equally wide, innocent and curious eyes should have stared back him, topped by bushy brows and an unruly mop of curly moss green hair, with black lowlights.

Instead what greeted him was a deeply tanned, sharp and somewhat angular countenance, his angular cheekbones were covered with coppery red freckles and the sharp “perfect” nose overlay a mouth that was better at frowning than any other venture; and whose attempts at smiling returned smirks, sneers and a series of grins that given their host's sharpened teeth were better suited to instill terror than convey joy. “Predatory”, piercing red-eyes glittered like intelligent rubies, enclosed by tattoo like under-eye "bruises” that appeared almost drawn on. Above were a pair of sleek and hawkish eyebrows and a spiky midnight-green and black nest of hair that his mother now compared to an angry, squashed artichoke – much to his dismay. His once soft looping curls were now forced point up or out, his sideburns curved back under his ears.

His teeth had changed, becoming something fitting a carnivore, his canines had all sharpened into fangs and his other teeth were far more pointed than they should be.

Overall, he looked like some sort of “slightly off” male model according to the local gossip. He was apparently attractive, very so, he had plenty of people tell him that. But at the same time, he’s heard the whispers, he seems to be just slightly sinister, that he’s uncanny, there’s an eeriness to him, that he puts the dark in tall dark and handsome, the bad in bad boy.

Which makes sense, now that he thinks about it, with what he is, there’s probably some sort of subconscious cue or group of traits that causes him to affect people.

They might not know what he is, but they can feel it, feel that something is off, and somewhere deep in the reptilian brain, that feeling translates to danger and makes them feel slightly ill at ease, makes him feel off to them.

His face of course wasn’t the only thing that had changed since that night.

He sighs, loud, harsh and deep.

Since the night he wandered aimlessly, morosely in a haze of shattered dreams after being rejected by All-Might, wandered right into the hands of a bunch of insane as fuck demon worshipers who used him and D... several other poor bastards as human sacrifices to summon the legions of hell to…

“What the Hell were they planning on doing exactly?”

He never really did figure that one out, destroying the city, mass murder, mayhem and general pandemonium probably.

At any rate their crazy magic worked, and a bunch of demons ripped open a hole from Hell or wherever and started eating people, possessing people and just making the most nightmarish scene possible.

Tied up and gagged, there was nothing he could do when a monstrous entity drove right into his body; the pain was indescribable, everything went black. He never expected to wake up again, which considering his shattered dreams and worthless life at the time, wasn’t really that big of a deal when he considered it.

He sure as fuck wasn’t expecting to wake up in the body of a twelve-foot-tall hulking monstrosity of a demon and be in full control, well almost full; he was so freaked out and disoriented that it was mostly auto pilot and instinct that was killing the hell spawn, while his mind was preoccupied with a panic attack and figuring shit out.

After that it took hours for him to revert to a human form and then another two days to figure out how to use that shapeshifting ability to transform his new body into something that resembled his old one, so his mother would actually recognize him.

As it was he scared the poor woman half to death, if he hadn’t got back when he did, she probably would have found a way to call President Kirk and have him send the Marines.

He was just glad his transformation worked. Still he hated being in that cramped little form, it felt like being squeezed into a way too small suit but worse and everywhere both inside and out. It was uncomfortable in a way he couldn’t really describe. But he needed to do it, he couldn’t have just shown up like he was.

Instead he played a gamble, he slowly let the transformation come undone, making it look like he was still rapidly but believably, transforming, changing and growing.

After the first week, it was noticeable enough that his mother took him to a parade of doctors. They all diagnosed an almost impossibly late delayed quirk emergence, a conclusion that Izuku was in no hurry to disabuse them or his mother of. She was ecstatic, if a bit jarred at both the physical and mental changes that he quickly underwent.

Looking over himself, he could understand if she was ultimately shocked. He was still getting used what had happened/was happening.

As to what that was he could only guess, but he suspected that that big demon had tried to possess him, and something went wrong, for the demon at least. From the few books and esoteric sites, he could find that seemed to know what they were talking about - and they were few and far between - it seems that instead of devouring Izuku and walking around in his body, somehow the opposite happened, somehow, he had eaten the demon and ended up with this fucking sweet new body, supernatural powers, and an altered mental persona in the process - the last of which he was still coming to grips with.

As he slowly reverted the transformation, he grew eight inches taller over the next two months.

As his frame stretched out he gained an impressive gymnast type build, with a large chest, upper arms and legs and defined waist and abdomen– the eight pack he now sported had to be due to his supernatural nature, because there was no way he could keep that naturally with how he was eating now.

All and all he had increased his weight by over a third, to 178, adding nearly 70 pounds of muscle to his now 6’1” frame and requiring the expensive task of purchasing a whole new wardrobe, something he actually felt immensely guilty about.

And speaking of, his height wasn’t the only thing that grew by eight inches.

He couldn’t stop the smirk, he really couldn’t, he should it was completely perverse, the old him would have looked like a tomato with how red his face would have been.

Lately though Izuku had reasoned to himself – with the help of his demonically enhanced hormones – that he had taken pride many things before what happened; his notes, his ability to study and identify quirks, his encyclopedic knowledge of heroes and villains.

Back then his body wasn’t anything special, but now it was something to be admired, something he could be proud of, so long as the changes stopped soon, which was concerning, because so far, they hadn’t.

He was still growing taller, still adding more pounds of muscle and …inches; his new form had been 6 inches taller and… longer, when he first got it, the extra two were added over the intervening two months, and while he could deal with being somewhat freakishly tall…

There was a difference between being impressively large and being so large to elect the response ‘How the Hell do you think that’s gonna fit?!’

He groaned to himself, that really had the potential to put a damper on his currently non-existent, but hopefully soon to be extensive, sex life.

His libido was to put it tactfully sky-high. Before the beginning of Summer vacation, Izuku had never even talked to a girl – or guy – in that capacity, had jacked-off twice in his entire life and the idea of watching porn probably would have made him spontaneously combust on the spot.

Nowadays hitting on good looking people, ‘mostly’ unintentionally, was as natural as breathing, he watched more porn then even someone his age should, and he had to masturbate constantly to avoid a repeat of the ceiling incident – which according to every book he’d read in his terrified panic, and the internet should have physiologically impossible.

He moaned to himself, his cheeks red with embarrassment. “It was a miracle mom didn’t notice the stain before I could repaint the ceiling.” He muttered under his breath.

As it were, as much as the idea still made him blush, the red-light districts were becoming an increasingly attractive, if not potentially necessary possibility.

Yeah, he was fifteen, he shouldn’t be planning something like that, a normal fifteen-year-old boy might be a bit sex obsessed, but then again, he wasn’t exactly a normal fifteen-year-old boy anymore; hell, Izuku was pretty sure he wasn’t really human anymore after that night.

In truth, real reason was that even between his computer and his right hand, he was having trouble keeping edge off - and he was secretly terrified that repressing it might lead to a similar result to what happened when he tried to repress his more violent tendencies instead of finding and outlet.

Just thinking about the possibility makes him want to throw up.

In the end, he had gone from Izuku Midoriya purest innocent to Izuku Midoriya threat to the virtue of good looking teens…

Good or bad, it was just part of who he was now…that and a lot more.

As the Sun began finally dip below the horizon, dying the ocean scarlet, Izuku grimaced gritting his teeth;

Once his personality finally stabilized he was forever changed.

He now peppered his speech with swears, something he’d have never done before. He had gained an aggressive streak that rivaled Kacchan’s, and a love of violence that was frankly unsettling – even to him at times.

Which being who he was – or at least who he thought he was – he tried to repress it… unsuccessfully.

He thought he was doing well until one day he went looking for and beat up the local group of delinquents, not strictly because they had been tormenting the local little kids, though that was part of it – and it probably was what set him off – but because he wanted to, no, needed to beat the ever loving shit out of someone before he completely blew a fuse, and they were the perfect targets, worthy of his rage – and the resulting loss of teeth they incurred.

What he did to the gang notwithstanding, he had also begun to find particular enjoyment in both – his demon hunting, infrequent that it was – and in the most bloody and gory Hero/Villain fight footage he could get his hands on, something that worried his mother greatly.

After one particular incident where she caught him laughing at an accidental decapitation; it became a part of himself that he now desperately tried to hide and repress as much as he safely could.

The look of horror her face and the shock of guilt and disgust that ran through him all the motivation he needed.

As it were, there were too few demons around to keep his…bloodlust, in check.

Despite his regular nighttime prowls around Musutafu he had only managed to find and kill five in the past two months. And while worrying in its own right – considering how many those fucking cultists actually summoned – it was something he would have to deal with later.

Ultimately Izuku’s solution ended up having to be creative; he checked out every book he could find on the most violent martial arts around and began practicing on makeshift dummies made of beach garbage.

He sighed, closing his eyes.

It lacked the visceral satisfaction of fist against flesh, or in the case of demons, claws against throats, but it was enough to take the edge off, and keep him from being a ticking time bomb.

A few weeks in, his minor bouts of cleaning for his impromptu training area had come to the attention of the parks department and ultimately led him to get a part time job cleaning the place up – which he had nearly finished – and which helped with his new found, insatiable carnivorous appetite.

*Urrrrrrrrurph*

“Damn it, I really can’t take a break from you even for a few hours, can I?”

Another loud rumble of his gut is the only response he receives.

Getting to his feet Izuku dusts off his pants and shirt before looking around. The sun has completely set at this point, it’s getting pretty dark. He looks over the beach, now almost completely clear of all the debris.

“I’m almost done here anyway, I might as well get this done before going home.”

As quick as he can without being too obvious about his powers he gathers up the remaining small debris and throws them into the dumpster before setting his sights on the fridge.

With a quick glance around to make sure no-one is looking, Izuku hefts the thing up on one shoulder and quickly deposits it beside the dumpster, almost tripping when his stomach growls again, this time loud enough to have sounded abnormal if anyone had been around to hear it.

“All-right Damn it! I’ll eat in a few minutes, fuck!” the tan teen swears exasperatedly at his own body.

Stretching out the kinks in his back and he sets about making for home at a quick jog, letting his muscle memory and reflexes guide him while his mind remains occupied with his musings.

His mom had been able to keep up with him in that regard to a point – comments of growing boys and a quirk to fuel becoming common place – but Inko was having trouble keeping up with a boy who could down five tonkatsu cutlets, associated vegetables and four bowls of rice and still be famished.

The job paid enough that Izuku could use some of the money to feed himself all the beef, pork and chicken he could stomach from local food stands, while giving the rest to his mother, which he hoped she used for things like all his new clothes and the rent rather than squirreling it away in a savings account for him like he suspects.

As he sped through markets and beach streets he began to think on what he always felt was one of the more worrying aspects of his changed personality; the sudden loss of several prevalent moral compunctions that should have disturbed him far more than it actually did – it was the fact that his newly acquired sociopathic tendencies didn’t tend bother or guilt him, that freaked Izuku out the most.

He used to have major issues with lying, not only was he a terrible liar, but if he actually managed to get away with it, it wouldn’t be long before the guilt would eat him up and he’d spill the beans.

Now he was perfectly capable of twisting the truth anyway he wanted and not batting an eye; he could look his own mother straight in the eyes and lie to her face about where he was during one of his nighttime demon hunts, where the money from his job came from – she thought he worked at the local library – or the fact that he had applied to UA while he was still quirkless and feel no guilt what so ever.

Then there was the complete change to his original, almost pacifistic mindset. As a child he avoided hurting others when at all possible, even if that meant sometimes getting hurt himself. In the eyes of a young Izuku it was never good to stoop to the low of another. Retaliation – which his child-self had confused with justified self-defense – always felt like something villainous, you shouldn’t hit back his mother always had said.

Though now…

“Screw that, if you hurt me or anyone I care about, I will take everything you’ve done and return it double, postmarked to your face.” He muttered to the wind

Okay, he mentally walked back, maybe that was a little much.

Really, his thoughts now ran more along the lines of self-defense, measured retaliation, an eye for an eye, and even potentially swift and overwhelming preemption to protect what was important to him. So long as you were human that was…

Demons…his eyes narrowed, teeth shifted, sharpening even further… gave no mercy or compassion to humans, and in turn got none from him, only swift annihilation. 

Shaking his head to clear the bloodlust, he raced onward towards home

Some of his new reasoning was probably because of his newly acquired aggression – and the fact that demons abhorred being dominated, something he somehow instinctively knew. The other part might have something to do with the Japanese translations of Vom Kriege and Sun Tzu’s opus currently sitting on his desk; both found in his search of the library for martial arts books.      

Either way…

“Bakugou beware.” He chuckled with grim amusement as he practically danced, racing through the more affluent suburbs towards the center of town, no longer paying any heed or concern to the use of his powers as he became almost a blur, the darkened tree branches and leaves casting running partners for him in the light of the rising full moons.

Lastly and most disturbingly – at least a first – was the sudden and inexplicable narrowing of his previously near universal compassion.

Heroes – who pre-transformation, he based his entire damn moral structure around – were pillars of Justice the young Izuku thought, there was no room for cruelty, or spite, even towards the most heinous of villains. And ‘like’ his idols - "how naive" - the younger him could find good in and feel for about almost everyone.

It’s probably one of the reasons he let Kanchan get away with all the shit he pulled. Even now there was a small twisted and abused part of him that still thought of that asshole as a friend, still made excuses for him, even though the truth was, that with a friend like Katsuki Bakugou, Izuku didn’t need enemies.

That empathic streak had probably been more of a hindrance than help, even still the fact that it had vanished, and he hadn’t even noticed gave him the second biggest breakdown of his life.

A few weeks after he had changed, he remembered grinning so hard his teeth creaked – and his smile was assuredly no longer human – when the news broke that America had finally had enough and the State of New Jersey announced it was going to put that cackling psychopath down for good.

He also remembered thinking it was too little too late, considering the thousands of deaths he was responsible for, and the fact they were just going to either kill him with an overdose or shoot him.

The monster should have to die the same way his victims did, face stretched into a grin so huge that it tore, laughing so hard and long that he either suffocated or his lungs exploded.

In fact, following the news bulletin he had spent nearly thirty minutes imagining up and filling a new notebook with fitting horrific tortures to subject various wanted villains to before he realized what he was doing and dropping everything.

He ran to the bathroom, his blood turning to ice in his veins as he seemingly vacillated between either throwing up or laughing hysterically in horror; in the end he settled for hyperventilating and crying on his bed.

As his tears fell, he had become more and more convinced that not only was his physical humanity likely forfeit, but that he was probably slowly turning into a monster. Lately though, much to his relief, he had become more and more confident that at the very least some measure of his humanity remained and would continue to do so.

He could still laugh and smile, he still found joy in things that didn’t involve graphic mutilation or violence. He still loved his mother. He could still cry and feel the pain of others; every week just to make sure he could still feel something, he looked up a series of heart wrenching videos from the internet and always found himself bawling, first from how fucking tragic they are, then in relief that he’s still not completely heartless.

Only for the wicked, seemingly, is his empathy now void.

As he raced through downtown, he jumped on top of a building and then from roof to roof to avoid awkward questions. During his exercise in parkour, his thoughts shifted to how his more narrowed empathy had changed his view of the world, heroes and his future.

He realized that while maybe far from saintly, overall, he didn’t think it was completely evil to want to see evil and those who commit it punished by the measure of their crimes, even if that would require the infliction of cruel and unusual suffering.

With that kind of mindset, he might not be particularly heroic anymore, or especially good either; but he sure as fuck wasn’t evil and he considers himself firmly on the side of good despite his morally ambiguous nature.

It took a while to admit it to himself but as he saw it, it was now quite apparent that at least when it came to evil, he had become quite vindictive, vengeful even.

He always wanted to be a Hero, he wanted to save others, to help them.

But if a Hero couldn’t be vengeful, if they had to feel compassion for them, at least on some level…

If you had to have sympathy for “devils” …

“Then I’m not sure I can or even want to be one...”

The revelation was shocking.

He always wanted to be a Hero, for as long as he could remember. Even when he learned he was quirkless, when that dream should have died, and its ashes scattered on the wind, he kept it alive and close to his heart.

But if a Hero need to be that pillar of Justice, needed to be like …Him… and most of the rest…

Once long ago he wanted to nothing more to be him. Now he wanted to be anything but…

He couldn’t do that, he couldn’t feel anything for someone would willing use their gift to harm another; and while he was fairly certain that with Heroes like Endeavor, and aspirants like Kacchan, the Hero world was far grayer than most would think, he wasn’t sure if he could – or would want to – hold back if he were faced with a “demon” in human skin.

Somehow, he thought, castrating a rapist or breaking a murderer’s back before handing them over to the detention squad, would probably be frowned upon.

Maybe, maybe he could find some kind of balance or just learn to control himself, given time and mental training.

He wouldn’t know if he didn’t try…

And there it was…the current question of his life.

Slowing down to a jog as he reached the bridge in the center of town, which would take him towards the blocks of apartments where his own was located, he focused on the most pressing matter at hand, the question that he had been agonizing over for the past two weeks.

Morality, vengeance, demons, cults, and everything else aside; Did he want to try? Did he still want to be a Hero?

He had applied for the U.A. entrance exam months before his meeting with All-Might, subsequent rejection and then his rebirth that night.

The Exam was tomorrow, and he still wasn’t sure if he wanted to go.

It was the chance of a lifetime, and now, now that he had more power than almost anyone but All-Might himself, he would ace it no problem if he put any kind of effort at all into it.

But there were dangers. His drastic transformation, covered by the flimsy lie – as far as Izuku knew, and he knew a lot, quirk emergence never altered the mass, body type and apparent age of the subject so drastically, let alone their personalities like what happened to him – of an impossibly rare delayed emergence at nearly fifteen years of age was already suspicious and his former childhood hero would be doubly so given their conversation, assuming he remembered it.

If anyone ever found out what he actually was, there might literally be hell to pay, his own safety aside, his mother might be in danger as well – the thought of which nearly made him transform in a rage.

Then there was the potential for his presence to draw the remaining demons towards the school and endanger everyone there.

He had absolutely no idea if quirks could even hurt a demon, it wasn’t inconceivable that his powers alone – being demonic themselves in origin – along with the powers of other demons and angels were the only things capable of slaying the legions of Hell.

If that was the case, then he’d be leading a group of nigh unkillable psychopathic monsters into a group of lambs. He could probably take care of even a dozen them with few to no casualties, but he’d certainly be exposed in the process.

Again, something to avoid at all costs.

His registry paperwork only listed him as having super-strength and speed, there was nothing about his ability to transform or shapeshift, or any of the other circus of powers and abilities he was packing – the full extent of which he didn’t even really know himself.

If he went tomorrow, and for the rest of his time at UA he had to be careful. His changed physical appearance would probably lend itself to people thinking he was a mutation rather than an emitter like most quirks similar to his powers, so if he had a small slip, like his claws, it might be recoverable.

Coming to a stop in front of his apartment complex, he laid out the mental list of restrictions that he would have to be under for the duration if really wanted to go to U.A. – at least while he was at school.

It would mean no heat burst - projected or otherwise - and no wings, claws or transformation of any kind; just his super strength, speed, reflexes and senses. Already that was pushing it, it was more than what he put on his “quirk” registry, but those were all constantly on, he couldn’t really turn them off if he wanted to, though thankfully they weren’t something anyone could just look at him and see either. 

It would also mean that he would have to control himself, probably more than he was already. Something that he was still unsure he could keep up for long.

Because ultimately the “New” Izuku was an addiction, something he's has never felt before that night two months ago - something probably no one has ever felt before. Who he is now is like a never ending high - he is power, he is sex, he is swagger, he is sickening, uncanny, perfection.

He is a demon.

He is everything that comes with that, the amazing body, the powers, the endless confidence, the almost instinctual mannerisms and actions that have everyone so far falling at his feet, it’s a dream born of a nightmare, a Heaven from Hell.

He huffs in derision; “If I knew that getting possessed was my ticket out of being a “quirkless” loser I would have gotten kidnapped by cultists a long time ago.” Izuku half jokes to the night air as he bounds up the stairs to the apartment where he and his mother live.

...

“You know what? Screw it!”

Yeah, he’d do it.

Tomorrow he’d go to U.A. and fucking ace that exam, if only to see the horror on Bakugou’s face Monday morning, first when he meets the new me and then learns we’re both going to U.A.

The image of Kacchan’s face warped in a mixture of horror, disbelief and fear at what had happened to his favorite punching bag served to help Izuku sleep very well that night; even as his dreams played over the day when everything changed, the day and the night when his life literally, when to Hell.

Teaser

The next ≈ 8 chapters will be:

Prologos I: Agnus Dei – Which will cover the altered canon prologue and Izuku’s capture.

Prologos II: Zoroaster – Vaḍā Dastur: Ahura Mazda - Covers the direct aftermath of Izuku's capture and a special meeting in the dungeon.

Prologos III: Die illa Transfiguratio – Covers the dark “sabbath” ritual/the summoning of the demonic hoard and Izuku’s rebirth as “Devilman” – and potentially him working out what has happened, figuring out how some of his powers work and getting back home. (Has been split now the 4th chapter overall)

Prologos IV: Deceiving the Sage of Kos – Izuku begins to let his artificial transformation slip and change. Inko takes him on a whirlwind tour of doctors who arrive at a conveniently incorrect diagnosis and Izuku deals with various facets of demonic puberty as it were, and his changing attitude - just where did he pick up that mouth?

Prologos V: A Day in the Life of a Teenaged Devil – Izuku works on his growing powers and body, reads a few books, chases down some delinquents, makes a mugger soil himself and fights his first demon, plus so much more.

Chapter 1: Advent of the Marquis – Izuku arrives at U.A. to take the entrance exam, has an awkward first meeting with Uraraka, and even more disastrous first impression with Ida, avoids Bakugou and poises himself to show the watching All-Might just how wrong he was.

Chapter 2: Arieh Yehuda – Or Deku no more – which will cover Izuku returning to middle school after passing the U.A. entrance exam and Bakugou, Cronies and everyone’s general reaction to the new Izuku and his getting into U.A.

Chapter 3: Waltz of the Marquis’ Enmity – Covers the first day of class, meeting with the other characters, the introduction of Aizawa and potentially All-Might, both who will learn quickly that even the nicest demon doesn’t like being humiliated and boy can he carry a nasty grudge…he might even pout a you!