My Hero Academia: Heavenly Restriction

Adjusts glasses with a bright smile

I took a long sip from my water bottle, feeling refreshed and energized for once. The dark circles under my eyes had faded slightly - amazing what actual sleep could do. My Stitch onesie was even relatively ink-free today, though a few stray marks still decorated the sleeves.

"Well, would you look at that!" I spun in my chair, addressing you all directly. "750 powerstones already? You guys are absolutely incredible!" I couldn't help but bounce a little in excitement, causing my hood to slip forward. Pushing it back, I continued, "And here I thought I'd have time to catch up on my beauty sleep before the first bonus chapter."

Speaking of sleep... I glanced guiltily at the stack of energy drink cans hidden behind my monitor. But hey, they were from yesterday! Progress was progress.

"I promised not to stall too long, and I mean it." I pulled out my notebook, several butterfly stickers decorating its cover. "Though I have to say, your theories in the comments? Chef's kiss Some of you are getting dangerously close to guessing certain plot points."

A small doodle of Stitch wearing UA gym clothes decorated the margin of my current page. "Before we dive in though, I wanted to thank you all properly. Your support means everything - it's what keeps me going during those late-night writing sessions. Well, that and concerning amounts of caffeine, but we don't talk about that."

Standing up, I gave a deep bow. "So truly, thank you. And as promised, here's your first bonus chapter of the week! Don't think I didn't notice some of you already strategizing for the next milestone." I winked. "But that's a concern for future Wisteria. Present Wisteria has a chapter to deliver!"

Settling back into my chair, I cracked my knuckles. "Now then, let's check back in with our favorite problem child and his growing circle of chaos, shall we? I think you'll particularly enjoy this one..."

======

I ran through cold hallways, heart hammering against my ribs. The USJ's industrial lighting cast harsh shadows that twisted into mocking shapes. Something was wrong. Everything was wrong.

"Izu?" Camie's voice echoed from somewhere ahead. "Where are you?"

"Don't move!" My feet pounded against concrete. "I'm coming!"

Laughter rippled through the darkness - high and unhinged. The sound crawled up my spine like broken glass.

"Too slow, hero." The voice belonged to the hand-covered villain. Each word dripped with gleeful malice. "Always too slow."

I burst into the central plaza. Camie stood frozen in place, mist curling around her feet. The villain's fingers hovered inches from her neck.

"No-"

"Life is such an interesting thing." His red eyes burned with sick fascination. "Want to see how it ends?"

I lunged forward, but my limbs moved like they were trapped in molasses. Every step felt like wading through cement.

"Izu?" Camie's voice trembled. "I can't move."

"Let her go!" 

"But we're just getting started." The villain's fingers twitched. "Heroes need proper motivation, don't they?"

Behind him, Nomu's massive form emerged from the shadows. Its exposed brain pulsed obscenely. Dead eyes fixed on me as thick fingers wrapped around Camie's arm.

"Stop!" The word tore from my throat. "I'm the one you want!"

"Want?" The villain's laugh scraped against my ears. "This isn't about want. This is about breaking things. Breaking you."

Nomu's grip tightened. Camie screamed.

"No no no-" I poured everything into Flash Step, but my body betrayed me. Too slow. Always too slow.

"Watch closely, hero." The villain's fingers descended. "This is what happens when you play at being special."

Decay spread from his touch like ink through water. Camie's skin crumbled to ash. Her scream cut off as her throat dissolved.

"CAMIE!"

"Weak." The villain's voice dripped contempt. "Powerless. Did you really think you could protect anyone?"

Nomu's fist crashed into my chest. Ribs shattered. Blood filled my mouth. I hit the ground hard, rolling through the pile of ash that had been-

No.

"Get up, hero." The villain loomed over me, hands outstretched. "There's so much more to break."

Shadows writhed behind him. More bodies. More ash. Mom. Gramps. Yaoyorozu. Everyone I-

"Izu!" Hands gripped my shoulders. Real hands. Warm hands. "Wake up!"

My eyes snapped open. Camie's face hovered above me, brows drawn together in concern. The bedroom was dark except for city light filtering through the blinds.

"Hey." Her thumb brushed my cheek. "You okay?"

I forced my breathing to slow, taking in her solid presence. The familiar scent of her shampoo. The weight of her hand on my chest. Real. She was real.

"Just need some water." I gently moved her hand, sitting up. "Go back to sleep."

"Mhm." She nestled back into the pillows, already drifting off. "If you say so."

The kitchen tiles were cool against my feet. I filled a glass, but didn't drink. The tap's quiet hiss couldn't drown out the echoes of that laugh. The sound of ash falling.

Too slow. Too weak.

My phone sat on the counter. The display read 1:47 AM.

Gramps would be up. He always said sake tasted better under starlight. The first ring hadn't finished when he answered.

"Brat." His gruff voice carried the warmth of well-aged alcohol. "Bit late for social calls."

"Sorry, I just-" 

"Cut the bullshit." Ice clinked against glass. "What's wrong?"

I leaned against the counter, staring at my reflection in the dark window. "The USJ. I keep seeing it differently. Worse."

"Ah." A long pause. "First time facing real killing intent?"

"No. Maybe. I don't know." The glass grew slick with condensation under my fingers. "But this was different. They weren't just trying to kill me. They wanted to break everything. Everyone."

"And now you're seeing the possibilities." It wasn't a question. "The ways it could have gone wrong."

"Yeah."

"Good."

"What?"

"Fear is wisdom in the face of danger." Another clink of ice. "It's your brain processing threats, showing you where you need to be stronger. The ones who don't fear after their first real fight? Those are the ones who die young."

I thought of the villain's eyes - the empty pleasure in them. "But I froze. When that thing grabbed Aizawa-sensei, I just... watched."

"For about two seconds." Gramps snorted. "Then you moved. Faster than most pros would have. Got your teacher clear, kept the monster busy until help arrived."

"It wasn't enough."

"It never is." His voice softened slightly. "That's why we train. Why we get back up. Why we go beyond, as your school likes to say."

"Plus Ultra."

"Exactly." Ice rattled as he took another drink. "Now, you can either let these dreams paralyze you, or you can use them. Your choice, brat."

My free hand curled into a fist. "I need to get stronger."

"Good answer." I could hear his grin. "I'll be at the beach. Five AM. Don't be late."

The line went dead before I could respond. Typical.

I drained the water glass, letting the cool liquid wash away the last traces of ash and decay. The nightmares would come again. The fear would return.

Good.

Fear meant I was alive. Meant I could still fight. Still protect.

The moonlight painted silver stripes across Camie's sleeping form as I slipped back into her room. She'd rolled onto her side, one hand curled under her chin like a child. The sight made my chest ache.

I sat on the edge of the bed, careful not to disturb her. In sleep, her face lost its usual playful mask. No teasing smirk or calculated wink. Just peace. Vulnerability. Trust.

My fingers ghosted over her hair, remembering how close I'd come to losing this. To losing her. The USJ hadn't just shown me my weaknesses - it had shown me exactly what was at stake.

"I've got you," I whispered into her hair. "I promise."

The words felt like a prayer. Like a challenge to the universe itself.

She stirred slightly, mumbling something that sounded suspiciously like "baby yeet" before settling deeper into the pillows. A smile tugged at my lips despite the weight in my chest.

I pressed a kiss to her temple and eased off the bed. The living room beckoned, along with the stack of analysis books I'd been compiling since the attack.

The leather couch creaked softly as I settled in. My latest notebook lay open on the coffee table, pages filled with cramped notes and diagrams. Different martial arts, their principles, their applications. Ways to blend them with Water Stream Rock Smashing Fist.

Gramps had taught me his style's foundation, but I needed more. Needed every edge I could get.

My pen scratched across fresh paper as I broke down techniques. Capoeira's fluid movements could complement Water Stream's flow. Muay Thai's devastating strikes could add raw power. Wing Chun's efficiency. Bajiquan's explosive force. And then some. 

I caught my reflection in the window - hunched over the notebook, eyes intense. The image of the desperate kid I used to be, scribbling hero analysis in the hopes it would somehow make up for being Quirkless.

But this was different. This wasn't about proving myself anymore. This was about being strong enough to keep my promises. To keep them all safe.

I turned back to my notes, adding another layer of connections. Another path to power.

Three hours later 

I eased the guest bedroom door closed, wincing at the slight creak. The weights clinked softly in my gym bag as I headed for the living room. 4:32 AM. Plenty of time to gear up before meeting Gramps.

My fingers found familiar grooves as I started attaching the training weights. Twenty kilos per band, distributed across arms and legs. The metal felt cool against my skin through the compression sleeves.

Something was off.

I straightened, testing the usual resistance. The weights didn't drag at my limbs like they should. I added another set. Still too light.

"That's not right." 

I dug through my bag for the heavier bands. Two hundred and fifty kilos total now. My movements should have been significantly restricted, but...

"Three hundred," I muttered, clicking the last band into place. There - that familiar strain. The slight burn in my muscles that meant proper resistance.

But that was impossible. Before USJ, two hundred had been my limit. Even accounting for Recovery Girl and Queen's healing...

"Sneaking out?"

I turned to find Camie in the bedroom doorway. She'd thrown on one of my hoodies, the oversized fabric swallowing her frame.

"Not sneaking. Just didn't want to wake you."

"Mm." She padded closer, bare feet silent on the hardwood. "Queen said rest."

"I am resting. Just meeting Gramps for some light exercise."

"Light exercise." Her fingers traced one of the weight bands. "These are new."

I stepped back before she could read the numbers. "Just some adjustments."

"Izu." That tone meant trouble. "What did Queen say?"

"No strenuous activity for a week. This isn't strenuous."

"Three days." She poked my chest. "It's been three days, and you're already-" Her eyes narrowed. "How much?"

"It's fine."

"How. Much."

I sighed. No point hiding it - she'd find out eventually. "Three hundred total."

"Three hun- Izu, what the actual fuck?" Her accent slipped as it did when she was genuinely upset. "That's way more than-"

"I know." I caught her hand before she could start removing weights. "Trust me, okay? Something's different. They feel like two hundred used to."

"That's not possible."

"Neither is surviving what that thing did to me at USJ." The words came out sharper than intended. "But here I am."

Her fingers tightened around mine. "Here you are. Which is why you should be resting."

"I can't." The nightmare images pressed against my eyes. "I need to get stronger."

"You need to heal."

"I'm fine."

"You're not sleeping."

"I sleep."

"Two hours at a time before the nightmares hit?" She stepped closer, forcing me to meet her gaze. "Yeah, I notice."

The silence stretched between us. In the pre-dawn darkness, her eyes looked almost golden.

"I have to go." My voice softened. "He's waiting."

She sighed. "At least let me spot you." She was already heading for the bedroom. "Give me two minutes to change."

"Camie-"

"Not negotiating, fam." Fabric rustled as she dug through drawers. "If you're gonna be stupid, I'm gonna be stupid with you."

I checked my phone. 4:41 AM. "We'll be late."

"Then we'll be late." She emerged in workout gear, hair pulled back. "Pretty sure Gramps won't mind once I explain why."

"He'll side with you."

"Because I'm right."

I shouldered my bag, hiding a smile. "We'll see."

The elevator ride was silent, but her hand found mine as we stepped into the empty lobby. The night guard nodded sleepily as we passed.

Pre-dawn air hit my lungs, sharp and clean. The city slept around us, streetlights casting pools of amber across empty sidewalks. Perfect conditions for training.

Or it would have been, if Camie wasn't watching my every move like I might shatter.

"I'm not going to break," I said as we turned toward the beach.

"Nope." She popped the 'p' sound. "Because I'm here to stop you from trying."

"I know my limits."

"You really don't." Her thumb traced circles on my palm. "But that's okay. It's why you have me."

We rounded the final corner to find a familiar figure waiting at the beach entrance. Gramps stood with his hands clasped behind his back, watching the waves.

"You're late." He didn't turn around. "And you brought company."

"Good morning to you too, Master Bang." Camie released my hand to bow dramatically. "Sorry to crash your torture session."

"Hmph." He finally faced us, one eyebrow rising at the sight of my weights. "Interesting."

I met his gaze steadily. "They feel different."

"Show me."

I moved through basic forms - kicks, punches, the flowing movements of Water Stream Rock Smashing Fist. Each motion should have been restricted, sluggish. Instead, they came out smooth.

Gramps watched in silence, stroking his mustache. Finally, he nodded.

"Girl."

"Yo." Camie had settled on a nearby bench.

"Your quirk. Use it."

She blinked. "Now?"

"Unless you'd prefer to wait for breakfast."

Mist curled from her mouth, forming three identical copies of me. Perfect down to the weight bands.

"Attack," Gramps commanded.

The illusions lunged. I spun through them, movements precise despite the weights. Each dodge felt calculated, measured. Like my body knew exactly how much force to use.

"Enough." Gramps raised a hand. The illusions dissolved. "Interesting indeed."

"What's happening to me?"

He stroked his mustache again. "Your body is evolving. Adapting faster than normal. The fight at USJ pushed you past certain limits."

"But this much? This fast?"

"You faced death." His voice carried no judgment. "Real death, not training danger. The body changes. Grows stronger to survive."

"Like a power-up in a game?" Camie asked.

"Like a survival mechanism." Gramps's eyes never left me. "The question is: what will you do with it?"

I flexed my fingers, feeling the weight bands shift. "Train. Get stronger."

"Good answer." He turned back to the ocean. "Come. Sit. We have much to discuss."

The waves lapped at the shore in a steady rhythm, almost like a metronome for my thoughts. Gramps sat cross-legged in the sand, his weathered hands resting on his knees. The pre-dawn air carried a bite that helped chase away the last traces of sleep.

"Tell me about the fight." His voice matched the waves - steady, inexorable. "Every detail."

I closed my eyes, letting the memories surface. "The Nomu was... different. Not just strong. It moved like it was designed for combat, but there was no technique. Pure instinct and power."

"And you fought it alone?"

"Not completely. Others joined later, but..." The phantom pain in my ribs flared. "For a while, yeah."

"Foolish." He didn't look at me. "But continue."

I described the battle - the dodges, the taunts, the desperate attempts to buy time. Camie's breath hitched when I mentioned the broken ribs, but she stayed silent.

"Your analysis?" Gramps finally turned to face me.

"Three major weaknesses." The words came easily. I'd replayed the fight a thousand times in my head. "First, when my arm got damaged, my offensive options dropped significantly. Water Stream relies heavily on upper body techniques, and I haven't developed enough leg-based attacks to compensate."

He nodded. "And the second?"

"I need a weapon." My fingers curled into the sand. "Something to extend my reach, give me options against opponents I can't safely engage in close combat. Maybe escrima sticks or-"

"No."

"But-"

"Your foundation is bare hands." His tone brooked no argument. "Not until after your first year. Let's focus on this first."

"Fine." I brushed sand from my palms. "Third issue is the Flash Step. It drains too much stamina. I need a way to minimize the cost, make it more efficient."

"Now that," Gramps stroked his mustache, "is interesting. Explain your thoughts."

"It's about conservation of energy." The familiar excitement of analysis helped push back memories of broken bones and blood. "Right now I'm using raw power to move, but if I could utilize momentum better, maybe incorporate some of Water Stream's principles..."

"Like a surfer catching a wave," Camie interjected. Both of us turned to look at her. She shrugged. "What? The technique's all about flow, right? So instead of fighting against physics, work with it."

Gramps's eyebrows rose slightly. "The girl has insight."

"She usually does." I smiled at her before returning to the problem. "But that would require perfect timing, reading the exact moment when-"

The impact of Gramps's fist sent me rolling across sand. I came up in a defensive stance, weights shifting smoothly with the movement.

"Good." He lowered his hand. "You moved without thinking."

"A little warning next time?"

"Villains don't give warnings." He resumed his seated position. "But you proved my point. Your body is adapting, learning to read intent and move accordingly. The next step is applying that instinct to Flash Step."

"How?"

"The same way you learned Water Stream." A familiar glint entered his eyes. "Through pain and repetition."

"Yo, timeout." Camie raised her hand like we were in class. "Queen said no strenuous activity for at least three more days."

"Did she?" Gramps's innocent tone fooled no one. "Then we'll start small. Just some basic movement drills. Nothing strenuous at all."

I met his gaze. We both knew "basic drills" was code for "creative torture," but...

"I need this." The words came out softer than intended.

"Izu-"

"I can't sleep." My hands clenched in the sand. "Every time I close my eyes, I see different versions. Worse versions. Where I'm too slow, too weak, and everyone-" I cut myself off. "I need to get stronger."

Silence stretched between us, broken only by the steady rhythm of waves.

"Fine." Camie's sigh carried equal parts resignation and concern. "But I'm staying to monitor. And if you push too hard, I'm telling Queen."

"Acceptable terms." Gramps stood with fluid grace. "Now, boy, let's see how those weights handle real movement."

I pushed to my feet, brushing sand from my clothes. The weight bands settled comfortably against my skin, already feeling like a natural extension of my body.

"Ready."

"We'll see about that." His smile promised interesting kinds of pain. 

"Begin."