Disclaimer: My Hero Academia is the property of Kohei Horikoshi and various production companies.


Normal Speech: "Sup my dude."


All Might: "Midoriya my boy!"

Thoughts: 'This was a horrible decision.'

Hello true believers. Welcome to the mystical world of the Moon Moon's imagination. With him is his good friend…. It's just me. I'm a lonely dude. Recently I just lost my girlfriend, she's not dead she just broke up with me, and I've been procrastinating like a mother fucker. Anyway, I'm trying to get out of my funk with this chapter.

Thanks for the love guys, I really feel good about this story, and I see this one going places, but only because so many of you are supporting me. But you know what would be even better? If marvel would make more games like the new Spiderman for all its characters. I want to spam fireballs as Doctor Strange, I want to use magical kung fu as Iron Fist, I want to fight crime in Madripoor as Wolverine. Just saying. But you don't come here for the rants, you come for the stories.

So, voila.

Izuku didn't think of himself as a violent person. Katsuki was a violent person. At times, some heroes could be violent people. Of course, he could list of throes of villains that could be called traditionally violent people. Compared to them, even in his most extreme moments of passion, Izuku was not a violent person. Despite this, he did find himself, for lack of a better term, irked at the small wooden stick he was holding in his hand. The other day, he'd been able to light it on fire quite easily. Of course the painful side effects of using the magic to do so still plagued him, but even the aftereffects had begun to wayne to a less tortuous effect. He was no longer spitting up coal! Though he'd spent about a third of his morning scraping the black residue off of his tongue.

He was in such a good mood afterwards that he decided to celebrate. He went outside, and after falling in a fresh puddle, grabbed a stick off the nearest tree. After setting it on the ground, he whispered the magical words, Ignium. The slightly damp stick sizzled, sputtered weakly for a while, and finally smoked a dab, before settling. Confused, and just a little panicked that he'd somehow lost his mojo over the night, Izuku tried again. This time, barely a wisp of steam was produced. He tried again and again, the spells effectiveness diminishing with each use, until finally he gave up on it. He ran back into his room, jumped through his window and into his training world, and violently swore at himself.

Turning on the pile of sticks Zelma had conjured for him to practice, he screamed the word Ignium. This time he was taken aback. The entire pile was set with such a mighty blaze that the heat rolling off of it could have roasted him. After the shock, Izuku felt the familiar thrill of magic run through him again. Invigorating, alive, and warm. He cheered for himself, and promptly keeled over to spit a very large and very warm piece of coal. As soon as he could stand, he ran over to kick through the blaze for an unburnt stick, and took it with him back through the window. He tried the spell again, finding it to be a success. Another glorious blaze was set in his kitchen sink. It confused Izuku, and he expanded on the reasons why.

The first theory was that he couldn't use the spell outside the training room, but he'd clearly disproven that just now. The next possibility to run through his mind was that the wood Zelma had summoned him was just extremely flammable or perhaps they came from a tree that was very sensitive to magic (like he'd read about in one of the many textbooks he'd received). Running along that train of thought, Izuku dug through the kitchen draws for a particular item. After a quick sifting through the many utensils in the drawer, Izuku pulled out a wooden spoon and dropped in into the sink next to the still burning stick. Once again he used the spell and once again he created another safely contained fire.

Now he furrowed his brow. Strolling outside he found the very stck he'd tried to burn minutes earlier. Poking at it, he found that the places it he had managed to smolder and singe were brittle, and they broke away easily. They were ashen. They had burnt. He'd used the spell correctly, it just wasn't' working on this stick in particular. At least particular parts of it. Rolling it, Izuku realized what parts specifically. Looking back to the puddle he'd fallen into, he saw that it was the damp parts of the stick that wouldn't burn.

Upon that discovery, Izuku laid down on his bed to ponder. And the longer he pondered, the angrier he became. So, as stated before, he didn't believe himself to be violent, but he also didn't believe that he'd every want to aggressively strangle a stick. So, he could be wrong about things is what he was getting at.

"I can't burn it because it's damp," he hummed, the even tone of his voice concealing his animosity of all things pertaining to rainy weather, "This is inconvenient."

Behind him, the chair to his desk pulled itself, and into its seat materialized his master, Zelma. She humorously chuckled.

"Truly, that is one particularly annoying fact of magic. It tends to obey the regular laws of physics when they are most inconvenient."

Not even shocked at her surprise entrance, Izuku asked, "Does this mean that if a villain runs through a sprinkler I can't throw a fireball at him?"

"As far as I'm aware, you don't know how to throw fireballs period. But no, if you threw a proficiently large one I assure you it will hurt them all the same."

Izuku sat up and slowly asked, "So if I want to set this wet stick on fire," he tossed it for effect, "I need to do it...harder?"

"With more power, yes," she corrected, "And no, that doesn't mean saying the spell louder. Don't go screaming at things to explode."

Izuku squirmed under her look, seeing that he was very much about to do that, and merely sat the stick down.

"Alright, how do I make the spell stronger?"

"Pour more magic into it," she said simply.

"How do I do that?" he asked quickly, eager to overcome this obstacle.

"You've been channeling magic by using your body to act as a conductor for greater energies," she pointed at him, "That's why you have a physical reaction to using magic. Your body is the conductor. More power will require a more powerful conductor. A more powerful body."

Before Izuku could ask how he went about doing that, Zelma had moved to his window and jumped through. Izuku followed suit. Even though he was only a step behind her, Zelma had moved a great distance into the world, and had cast a large portal into the sky of his training ground, if you could call the endlessly high ceiling of the dimension a sky. At once, a sea of sand started to pool out of the hole in the sky, pooling on the floor before the master magician. When it finally reached an amount that doubled her height and spread out the length of a room, Zelma raised her hand and closed the portal. The flow abruptly stopped, and Izuku stood in wait. He'd seen her crafted her weapons out of this stuff a few times before, but it was always a small amount of the substance that became what she needed. What was she going to make with all of this?

Like she heard his question, Zelma looked back and said, "To make your body stronger is to do exactly what you think it means. Train."

The sand began to spread, condensing into various shapes, changing colors and morphing around itself. A long thin trail began to make a long oval, and the rest of it moved within that oval to form many shapes. They began to make metal and black bars. The oval became a grassy pathway while the things within it became the most awful torture devices Izuku had ever seen: weight machines! Pull up bars and various other instruments took form as Izuku began to walk forward. The remained of the sand that hadn't gone into making this mini gym collected next to Zelma and became a chalkboard, with a list of activities that Izuku was not looking forward to. It was 50 items long and filled with exercises both basic and complex, and some of which Izuku had never heard of.

"You're going to make me do all of this?" Izuku looked at his teacher incredulously.

"Of course not, this is going to take a very long time and I have places to be," she looked down at the boy, "You will be doing this on your own, unless you'd like to be known as the magician that can't overcome damp wood?"

Izuku grumbled, but never one to give up, he walked forward and read the first exercise.

"Pull ups," he whimpered when he looked at the specific number, "I can't even do 5."

Huffing, he jumped up to the bar to begin. As his fingers curled around the bar, he seized. Izuku felt like he was being put through a ringer. It was more like the bar was trying to suck the life out of him through his arms. It was like Izuku was feeling a spiritual pressure, one that went deeper than his own physical body. Speaking of which, Izuku wheezed. He would be the first to admitted that he didn't exercise as much as he could have. Ever. But, he'd been fixing that. He'd started doing his cardio and push ups and such at the park. So why was this singular pull up taking him so much effort.

After a second or so convulsing like a fish out of water, Izuku dropped to the ground, at once getting on his knees to catch his breath. It was after his palms flew off his knees that he realized his was covered in a neat sheen of sweat, and his heart was pounding in his chest. His breathing was ragged as well. It looked like he'd just run a mile, not attempted a pull up.

"Oh, I haven't recalibrated the restriction spell," Zelma remarked dully, "You could have died just now. I'm quite proud of you."

"The hell!? What do you mean 'You could have died'?" Izuku looked up, his vision swinging between intense brightness and almost total black, "What just happened? Why do I feel so weak?"

An array of sigils projected off of Zelma's arms as she spoke, "Now that you have magic, it's tied itself with the rest of your life force. Suddenly stopping it is the same as abruptly stopping your own heart."

"Could you make me heart stop beating actually?" her ward asked with total seriousness, "I think I'm having a stroke."

The sigils surrounded the entirety of the new training grounds and began to glow violet. The metal and weights within the space vibrated in tune as they took began to glow a purplish hue. Izuku, who'd moved to lie on his back, watched as the machines turned to the same color of the grey sand they had been formed from before returning to the black and grey they had been before. Owlishly, he marvelled at the process, while Zencho continued.

"I have many preset spells on many things boy, and my Dust is no different," she delicately moved her fingers in the air as she spoke, writing invisible words, "This one so happens to restrict the flow of magic in living organisms upon touch. When you touched the bar, the energy within you became stagnant, and you found it hard to move, yes?" Izuku nodded patiently, very intrigued by her words. "I'm lowering the level of resistance, but it will affect you the same way it did before if you don't consciously circulate your power through yourself. In essence, you will be doing a spell that does nothing while you train your body."

"I think I understand," Izuku started, "It'll be like training with weights on, but instead of straining my body, it'll strain my magic. This'll make my power stronger, right?"

"No," Zelma said plainly, as a few of the runes returned to her, and few few piece of equipment stopped vibrating, "This will train your body, and that is one way to increase your magical container, but the resistance to your magic circulation will increase your control. By willing your energy to move within yourself, you'll achieve a greater understanding of it's natural movement. Become aware of its presence in your everyday life. Feel it within yourself, and you'll be able to manipulate it to a greater degree. Focus less on the power, and more on the skill."

As more and more floating symbols returned to their place along Zencho's arms, Izuku raised a brow, "Then how do I solve the power issue?"

"Repeat the spell. Actually, repeat any spell," she said as the last sigils stopped glowing and all of the materials returned to their grey and black metallic colors. She waved her hand and on the end of the grassy track apparated another pile of sticks, "Magic is a skill like any other, and you increase your proficiency through practice. There are no shortcuts."

"Then why didn't you just summon more sticks?" Izuku gestured to the new equipment that was essentially his own personal gym now, "Why the whole imitation gym."

Zelma laughed, "I told you, if you intend to go forward as a hero that only uses fire and levitation, we'd have to advance the speed of your training. This is how we'll be doing that. Typically, a practitioner of the magical arts would learn to feel the magic within them over time, but we don't have time for that. I'm shoving you into the deep end, as they say."

Izuku made to ask another question, but was silenced by his teacher's palm. She pointed to the bar once again, and Izuku mentally groaned. Pushing of the ground, he walked under the pole and took a few deep breaths. Shuffling in place, Izuku mentally prepared himself. He closed his eyes and tried to feel within himself. He needed to circulate the magic within himself. That was easy enough. He would never forget the exhilaration of using magic for the first time, nor the first time he'd used a spell himself, although he'd done it incorrectly. It was like having a heart made of lightning and feeling fire in your fingertips. The air was clean and his body was light. There were no aches or bruises that he could feel. It was like flying.

It didn't take long before Izuku shook. But these weren't violent tremors of pain, but more like he was vibrating. He was resonating on the same frequency as something else. Something close? Something very close, and very... His eyes opened wide as he looked down to the ring on his finger. It was the thing he was vibrating with. Resonating with on a level him just couldn't explain. It was glowing as well, shining like a diamond in the light. Before, it would pulsate in tandem with Izuku's heart, but now it was like a soundless drum, the pounding of which only he could hear.

"Hmm, feeling the presence of magic is much easier if you have something so intimately connected with you as that," she assessed, as Izuku rolled his shoulders.

Quickly, while the feeling was strong, Izuku jumped and firmly gripped on the bar. Near instantaneously, the feeling began to wayne, but Izuku was not dissuaded. He immersed himself in the magic, revelled in it, and pushed it within himself again. The power ebbed and waned, and Izuku hung on the bar like a doll while he chased the sensation. Finally, when he felt that he firmly had it in his hand, Izuku pressured it. As if it was water in a cup, it began to overflow, and the feeling of lightning in his veins returned with a furious passion. Izuku knew he could maintain this, he just knew, but there was a glaring issue with that.

As he hung on the bar, he found that it was quite impossible to move and hold on to the magic at the same time. Abashedly, Izuku glanced to his master and dared to ask, "Could you lower the resistance a little more, please?"

With a mock curious hum, Zelma sighed, "No, I've made the spell as weak as I'm capable. You'll just have to make do."

"How!?" Izuku pleaded as his shoulders started to burn.

"I'd love to help but I've got somewhere to be later, good luck Izuku," she waved as she began to back peddle in a freshly opened portal, "Also I've set the room to stay closed until you've finished everything on the board, and practed Ignium on all the sticks."

"What!" Izuku barked. That board had at least fifty exercises! And he was only vaguely aware of some of them.

"Relax," Zelma placated the boy, "I've left refreshments."

She pointed to behind Izuku, where two bottles of water and a steaming bowl of rice sat on a dinner napkin. Before he could hope to complain, Zelma had closed the portal, leaving him to glare at empty space.

With a huffed, Izuku dropped from the bar, this time landing on his feel, and walked to a open space.

"Fine, I just start with push ups then," he said to no one.

Placing his hands in the position, Izuku attempted his first only to fall flat onto the ground. Once again, he felt like his soul was being sucked out of his body, and to explain the strange phenomena was a small strip of paper that landed on his nose.

"The floor is enchanted with the same magic as the bar. So is the track, and the pile of sticks, and anywhere else you thought of going. Similarly, all of the equipment has identical wards.


Your loving master that only wishes to see you exceed in adversity."

Ripping the paper to shreds, Izuku yelled to the very high ceiling, "You're a jerk!"

Instantly, he heard marks being made on the chalkboard. Another two exercises were now scrawled along the bottom, with a golden smiley face to accompany them. Izuku resisted the urge to cry, unknowing of the smile that his master wore as she returned to her own devices.

Drenched in his own sweat and feeling that the pit in his stomach was more than just a lack of food, Izuku pulled himself into the window of his room. "That bowl of rice tasted like dirt," he spat, collapsing into the bed, and muffling his groans as he stretched sore muscles. After a minute of silence, Izuku lifted his head and scanned the room, "What? Are you not here?"

Sitting up, Izuku scanned the room, though he didn't really think he'd be able to see her regardless. Not a metaphorical hair was out of place. Fatigued to the point of exhaustion that he was, Izuku managed to catch a glimpse of the wooden stick that had plagued him that very morning. He reached out, and rolled it over in his hand once more. It was dry now, and without a doubt in his mind, Izuku knew he could easily char the offending instrument black and crisp. He also knew that it wouldn't have been satisfying.

Slowly, so as not to aggravate his already tired body, Izuku rolled out of his bed, and trotted down the stairs. At the foot of the steps, Izuku heard the clink of silver wear and realized that his mother was washing dishes.

"Izuku," she started, "Did you burn my good spoon? I understand that testing your quirk is important to you now, but there were plenty of sticks outside to practice on...Why are you sweating?"

She had turned around to see the haggard condition of her son. His clothes were ruffled, his hair, or at least the parts of it that weren't adhered to his face by sweat, was even messier than normal, and he was practically leaving a pool of sweat behind him with every step. Even as he brought a hand up to scratch his neck, she observed as droplets flung off his arm from the motion.

"I did push ups," he simply stated, using the stick he carried to scratch his neck.

"You're sweating an awful lot," she asked concernedly.

"I did an awful lot," he sighed, "Do you know what time it is?"

Ignoring her son's overly casual attitude to his own state, Inko Midoriya looked to the clock, "It's almost 3 P.M., why?"

"I was just thinking of going somewhere," Izuku thought about the fact that he'd spent the last few days isolated in his room, studying, and practicing magic, "I haven't really been going out lately."

With that, Izuku stepped outside and threw the stick into the nearest puddle. Immediately retrieving it, Izuku set in on the concrete of the sidewalk and smiled. Right now, he'd never been more tired. Lifting his arms was a chore, and if he'd needed to run for his life right this second, he'd just have to go ahead and die. He was vaguely aware of his growing headache as well, yet he had never been so satisfied. The first time he'd used magic had been a fleeting moment. And ever time after was the same, but right now, he was sparkling with it. It surely wasn't as intense as before, but the thrum of a magical current under his skin was still it's own little pleasure. It was like permanently drinking hot chocolate on a cold day. At the moment, it was fading, but while it was with him, Izuku could power through at least one more spell.

Without raising his hand, Izuku said, "Ignium."

Immediately, the stick expelled a cloud of steam. The intense heat Izuku had conjured baked the stick dry in an instant, and then the flame came to life. Faster than it ever had before, the stick was consumed by a bright flame, but instead of the angry dark red, Izuku's fire burned a lighter shade of red dotted with flecks of almost orange.

As a black smoke wafted up from the now smoldering pile of ash, Izuku shot his hands into the air, "Ha!"

Izuku hunched over, laughing at his own little accomplishment. Going from being able to set a stick on fire to setting a wet stick on fire. Surely, it wouldn't be a cause for celebration in any other circumstances, but Izuku could help but take pride in it. At the same time, Izuku could feel the magic in him slow its circulation, settling down underneath the surface where it always had been. He let his laughter petter off, and he waited for the cost of magic, pain, to kick in. Instead of a kick, however, it was a love tap. A mild, momentary discomfort that couldn't even wrinkle his nose. Izuku was sure it was an unrelated twitch of the muscle. But as he waited longer, nothing came.

With a jump, Izuku replayed the same words in his head before mumbling to himself, "Magic follows the rules of physics. Magic is about conducting energy. I'm using my body as the conductor."

A whip of wind blew past Izuku's ear, and he knew before he turned around that his master was behind him.

"And as the exercises required you to consciously circulate the magic in your body, you were forced to become a more efficient conductor."

"The cost of magic is pain, but the pain isn't just for using the magic," Izuku's eyes widened, the gears turning in his head as he spoke, "It's because I wasn't circulating the energy right. It was damaging the conductor, wasn't it?"

An airy chuckle that seemed to be carried by the wind reached his ears, "I'm very proud of you, little magician. You've made a very important discovery today."

"I can lessen the pain by becoming a better conductor. And to become a better conductor..."

"You need to understand the magical power within you," Zelma congratulated the boy with a pat on the back, "But, you should understand that training this aspect of magic is in many ways the easiest and hardest part of learning magic."

The young man's head dropped, "Of course it is."

"I'd like to issue you another method of training," she said seriously.

"Of course you would," he sighed.

Aggravated by his touch of attitude, she gripped his shoulder a bit tighter, "Circulate the magic in your body again, and continue to do so until you have revitalized your body's natural stamina."

"That's doesn't sound so-" he was cut off by the sound of a clink and cold metal surrounding his wrist.

"While wearing this." With that last word, Izuku dropped to his knees. Having been familiarized with the sensation all to well in the last few in hours, Izuku dug into his waning magical supply and started to spin it again.

As soon as he could stand again, he whipped around to yell at her, but paused upon seeing her new attire.

"You're dressed normally," he dully observed.

Indeed she was dressed differently. She was a simple black long sleeved shirt under a faded jean jacket. Her long gray jeans went just over the openings of her navy blue sneakers, complementing her dark blue beanie, which covered the top of her head. The rest of her hair was drawn in a french-braid hanging over her shoulder. In this, she looked a bit younger, into the late twenties if anything, although she didn't look old to begin with. She was the typical American girl, although dressed modestly compared to most others. The flashiest piece of her attire was a pair of glasses with white carvings that showed brightly against her darker skin tone. Izuku didn't doubt for a second that they were enchanted with some way.

"These are my civvies," she stated flatly, "And they're a fair bit more comfortable than my armor."

"I bet," Izuku then shook his arm than was now decorated with a silver chain of links, "And can I take this off? I'm kinda low on magic and I just finished my training for the day."

"You will never be finished training," Zelma corrected and admonished, "And you will wear it when I order you to. As for your magic running low, rest your worries. Circulating it within yourself doesn't consume power, only expending it does. In fact, consciously stimulating it will only aid in recovery."

"Oh, that's good to know," he said in relief, "I wish you would tell me these things in advance."

"It was covered in the books I've given you," Zelma stressed her words, "Have you not been reading?"

Abashed, Izuku admitted, "I might have skipped a few things."

"You went straight to gods and monsters," she guessed.

Izuku nodded. Kicking the ground, Izuku looked around and asked, "Are you wearing civvies because we're outside?"

"Partly, but also because we are about to go somewhere else," she snapped her fingers.

Izuku blinked. There surroundings had rapidly changed. For one, he was dry now, the sweat on him having disappeared. His clothes had changed as well. He was dressed for colder weather now, a thick orange windbreaker over a long sleeved shirt as well as blue jeans defended him from a chilling gust of wind attacked him. Zelma and Izuku were standing in the middle of an alley. The street before them was bustling with people, and without a courtesy motion Zelma bleed into the crowd, leaving Izuku stunned by the radical change in scenery.

Overcoming the lag, Izuku chased after her, "What just happened? Where are we?"

From a few steps ahead Zelma called back, "New York."

Izuku whipped his head around and saw a few iconic figures, one such being the dauntingly huge empire state building.

"Oh, wow, All Might spent a few years doing hero work here," he looked around with starry eyes, before his synapses started to fire, "WHAT!?"

"We're in New York," Zelma waited at a stop light as Izuku caught up and had a mild panic attack behind her.

"Why?" he cried, small, comical tears in the corners of his eyes.

"I'm introducing to a few people," she stated without much in her voice to imply she was concerned with his panic.

"What about my mom?" he pleaded. "She's going to panic if I just disappear."

"You told her you were leaving," Zelma took long steps towards the other side of the street as the light turned green.

"Not to New York!" he pointed at the distance were the vague shaped of the statue of liberty could be seen.

"She doesn't know you've gone so far," Zelma argued, "Does it really matter all that much?"

"It does!" he shouted, "It definitely does."

"Oh, calm down," she waved, "What have you read about sanctorums?"

"Don't just change the subject," Izuku, shivered as another cold wind blew past.

Unflinching in the cold weather, "Changing the subject is what one does when the previous topic is finished. Sanctorums, what do you know of them?"

Miffed that she was dismissing his distress, Izuku dug into his memory. There was a chapter or two on sanctorums right before magical realms and spaces in one of the older bindings.

"It's a place full of magical practitioners. They train, eat, sleep, and develop their magical prowess at those places. Every universe with intelligent life has at least one," Izuku quoted.

"That's right. Right now, your universe's sanctum is located in the basement of the empire state building."

"Is that where you're taking me?" Izuku weaved his way through a haughty looking group of suits and ties.

"Ha! No, that can't happen," Zelma laughed, "If you attempt to touch the barrier without a certain amount of magical power, you'd be incinerated. Needless to say, but as a beginner you don't quite meet the requirement."

A dark cloud raining over his head at Zelma's laughter, "Where are we going then?" he asked dejectedly.

"We are going to meet the master of this world's sanctorum and their apprentice at a cafe," she held up a hand to preempt his next question, "We'll be discussing the plan for your education."

The boy's throat hitched, and he asked nervously, "Are you going to stop being my teacher?"

"Of course not, little magician," she smiled, "But I'm not of this world, and I have more than a few problems to deal with in my own. Something threatens the balance of my world's existence nearly everyday," she exasperatedly sighed, "And an idiot named Stark recently angered a celestial."

"A what?"

Zelma sharply responded, "It's unimportant what it is, just know that it and many other problems like it can take my attention away from you at a moment's notice, and I can't let that impede your progress."

"So, I'll be part timing with this new guy?" Izuku almost bumped into Zencho, who came to a sudden stop, and abruptly turned left.

"That is something we masters will be discussing while you and the other apprentice go somewhere else."

She opened the door and ushered Izuku into a quaint coffee house. The smell of fresh grounds and fresh baked sweets flooded Izuku's senses. A welcome defense from the cold outside, Izuku quickly scanned the room for what might look like another master and apprentice. It was a fruitless effort, as everyone looked as unassuming as the person beside them. It didn't take long for Zelma to shuffle past customers with Izuku in tow and settle at a table with two occupants already waiting. The older of the two, a young man in his early twenties, possibly even late teens, had a steaming cup between his hands while the younger, a girl the same age as Izuku curtly nodded to them both.

The young man sported black hair and green eyes, which fluttered between Izuku and Zelma. He wore an unassuming hoodie and jeans. He looked every bit the unremarkable college student Izuku would have thought him to be, but way she sat. Izuku was careful not to show any disrespect. This man was a master of the mystic arts, apparently on the same level as his own master. And at such a young age too, Izuku could imagine the talent and skill he must have had.

The young girl beside him looked equally unimpressive, but being so close to her, Izuku felt a sort of air. It was the way she impassively observed them, and how she sat. Her chin high, shoulders pulled, and her back perfectly straight, she was almost the image of royalty. Her skin was pale, and her face dotted with freckles. She had her bright orange hair pulled pulled into a tight bun. She was dressed more elegantly with a dulled yellow dress that matched the golden brown in her eyes, but covering her shoulders was a white shawl.

Izuku waited for the man to introduce himself and his student, but was surprised when his fellow disciple made the first move.

"Good evening, master Zelma," she flicked her eyes to Izuku, "Young Midoriya, I presume." She spoke with the same royal dignity she looked to possess, and Izuku pondered on why she was speaking before her teacher.

Receiving a nudge from his teacher, Izuku hurriedly said, "Yes, that's me."

"Well, I think that our students should go speak elsewhere," Zelma started, "Izuku, do mind yourself in the city. No matter what universe you re, New York is a force to be reckoned with."

Izuku nodded and stood up nervously. The young man across from him stood up as well, presumably to let his student slide out of the booth, but when she made no move, Izuku looked to her, and she looked back.

"Are you waiting for someone else?" she asked, a daring edge in her voice.

"Um, I thought us apprentices were leaving together," Izuku squirmed under her sharpened gaze.

"Yes," she clicked, "They are."

Another pause filled the air, and Izuku followed her eyes to the young man that was standing next to him. He looked back at Izuku and turned about.

"Um, do you want a coffee before we go?" he asked innocently.

"Huh?" Izuku dumbly asked.

"He hasn't got American money, Nathaniel, they just teleported from Japan," the young girl pointed out.

"Huh," Izuku snapped his head back to the girl, barely older than he was with wide eyes. She'd called with Nathaniel, without any form of honorific or title.

"Right," he rubbed his head, "My bad, Master Henrietta. Let's just head out Midoriya."

"Master?" Izuku repeated, "But, she's so small."

He'd of course meant to say young, but given that she was so very short in stature even for her age, Izuku had slipped in saying. This was, as they say, his ass.

A small snap was heard as the girls hair broke free of the tight bun and started to float as if gravity had ceased to have effect. The strands separated into thick tendrils that ominously squirmed like they belonged to some beast, and two long strands at the corners of her forehead raised higher into the air, like devil horns. Her wheat golden eyes glowed, darkening slightly toa more metallic shade, her pupils settling on him.

"Zelma, I believe we should work out the finer details of this arrangement, but I'm not convinced I should train him after all," her even voice and unimpressed face didn't not properly represent the suffocating aura she was exuding, "Do you think I could put him through a little test of mine for now?"

Izuku fearfully looked to his own teacher, who thought for a bit.

"He did just finish some intense training of his own," she conceded, "But this should be good for him. For safety, I'd like you to send your own student along as well."

"Of course," she said, flicking her wrist. A portal opened behind the two boys.

"Can we avoid this if I apologize?" Izuku asked.

"I guarantee we can't," Nathaniel groaned, "She's the unforgiving type."

Zelma snickered, jabbing her finger at the two of them. A telekinetic shock Nathaniel off of his feet, launching him violently into the maw of the wormhole, and Izuku glanced around to see that absolutely no one was paying them any mind. Gesturing to this, Izuku asked his teacher a question.

"Notice-me-not charm?"

"You have been reading," she clapped, pleased as punch to his dutiful nature.

"Get going boy," Henrietta impatiently ordered, "Training is essential to growth."

"Wow, I guess you haven't done much training then," Izuku whispered.

"Excuse me!" She rose out of her seat while emitting a furios pressure.

"Time to train!" Izuku speed through the portal with newfound energy.

The portal closed, and the young of the two masters settled down. While she conjured a new hair band and began to tie her hair back into a bun, Zencho hummed.

"Where have you sent them by the way?" Zelma was of course wary of sending her new apprentice into the fray of real danger.

"No where my apprentice can't handle," Henrietta replied.

"And mine?" Zelma asked, the first hints of apprehension entering her voice.

"What about yours?" she dryly spat.

"Could you just tell me the place," Zelma bargained, "I'll cover your next cup."

Intrigued, the little master responded, "Very well. It's actually in your neck of the woods. A place called-"

Izuku took one whiff of the air and took off his jacket. The air was hot and thick with humidity, letting Izuku know right away that this was not the place for a jacket and jeans. Nathaniel too, under the oppressive heat, took his hoodie off to reveal armor, though it was less traditional than Zelma's, and more like something off a SWAT officer.

"Are we in some jungle?" Izuku asked.

Before he companion could answer, a shrill shriek filled the air, as did the sound of something akin to a blade cutting through the wind. Turning on a heel, Izuku was unprepared for the sight before him. Brown leathery skin peeled over a set of wings the span of a bus was breaking through the sky and diving right for him. The head of the beast was like a long triangle, angry eyes beset on either side, and the sharp beak that the face came to a point at looked ready to drive through him.

"Down!" Nathaniel, screamed.

Listening to him, Izuku ducked under the beasts path, and it soared over him. The wind trail behind it nearly pulled Izuku off the ground, but as he rolled over, Izuku got a better look at the beast as it twisted in the air to come in for a second strike. It was no beast, but something that Izuku had only seen in movies. A beast from ancient days.

"That's a..." Izuku licked his lips, his mouth now very dry, "I'm think it's a... Did she send us back in time?"

"No, this wasn't time travel," Nathaniel, held his hands between him, a sparking power growing between the palms of his hands, "These are the Savage Lands."

Izuku let the words reverberate in his mind. Savage lands were right. It perfectly described the wind plant life, the sweltering climate, and the giant pterodactyl coming down from it's ascent to skewer them both.