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Chapter 30: Fury, Tears, and the Breaking News
🕑 Added 2025-09-26 05:10:44 +0000 UTCAll Might’s smile was gone. What remained was the mask of a vengeful god, his face a storm of righteous fury and a guilt that gnawed at him from within.
“You…” he growled, his voice a thunder that rumbled throughout the entire USJ, a promise of divine retribution. “You will pay for this. For every tear. For every drop of blood.”
The pain consuming him from within erupted into an external roar of power.
“Now… IT’S MY TURN!”
There were no more words. He launched himself. It wasn’t a heroic leap; it was a cannonball. He crossed the plaza in a blur of red, white, and blue, his fist cocked back. The newly regenerated Nomu barely had time to turn before the first blow connected.
SMASH!
The impact made the entire dome vibrate. The ground cracked beneath their feet. All Might struck with a force designed to topple skyscrapers, but the creature absorbed the impact. Its body rippled like a sack filled with liquid, the kinetic energy dissipating into its elastic flesh.
What is this thing? All Might thought, taking a step back as the Nomu recovered without a scratch. It’s like punching water! My strength isn't breaking it!
The Nomu threw a punch of its own, a clumsy but incredibly powerful blow. All Might deflected it with ease.
It doesn’t matter! he decided, his mind burning with the images of his injured students. If I can’t break it in one blow, I’ll hit it until there’s nothing left to absorb! I’ll reduce it to atoms!
And the real battle began: a whirlwind of punches that made the very air scream, a brutal dance between the symbol and the beast.
Far from the hell of the USJ, in the quiet, sunny Midoriya apartment, the only combat being waged was against a potato.
Inko Midoriya watched with an amused smile as Himiko Toga struggled awkwardly with a peeler. She was wearing one of Ochako’s hoodies, and her blonde hair was pulled back into a messy bun, making her look like a normal teenager helping out in the kitchen.
“Careful, Toga-chan, the peeler is sharp,” Inko said in a motherly tone. “Fingers inward, like this. With a gentle motion.”
“This is harder than hand-to-hand combat!” Toga complained with a frustrated grin, nearly nicking her finger. “Potatoes are my new arch-enemies! They’re slippery and they don’t bleed when you stab them!”
“Well, if you can master the art of peeling potatoes, you can master the world,” Inko laughed. “Izuku will be home soon. I want to have a nice dinner ready for him. He’s been working so hard.”
The television, on in the background to a loud and colorful variety show, filled the kitchen with a false sense of joy.
“He’s a good kid, your Izuku-kun,” Toga said, concentrating on a particularly stubborn potato. “Weird as hell. But good. He promised he’d help me.”
“He always keeps his promises,” Inko replied with pride. “Sometimes he’s too good for his own good. He worries so much about others.”
Just then, the variety show was cut off abruptly. A sharp, urgent beep silenced the canned laughter. A flashing red banner appeared on the screen: “BREAKING NEWS.”
“WE INTERRUPT THIS PROGRAM FOR AN URGENT NEWS REPORT,” said a deep, male voice.
Inko and Toga looked up, their hands stopping in mid-air.
A frantic reporter appeared on screen. Behind her, shaky, grainy aerial footage showed the giant glass dome of the USJ. Smoke was pouring from a section of the roof.
“We are receiving reports of what appears to be a large-scale villain attack at U.A.’s training facility, the Unforeseen Simulation Joint,” the reporter said, her voice strained with urgency. “Unconfirmed sources speak of multiple injuries and possibly… possibly fatalities among the students of Class 1-A, who were conducting a rescue exercise.”
The potato and peeler fell from Toga’s hands.
Inko froze, her face draining of all color. The knife she was holding slipped from her fingers and clattered against the kitchen floor with a sharp, final metallic sound.
“Authorities have not yet been able to access the facility,” the reporter continued. “The situation is chaotic and information is scarce, but we can see… Wait! That figure! It’s…! It’s All Might! All Might is on the scene! He appears to be fighting a large, unidentified villain!”
Toga, her face now a mask of pale horror, shot to her feet and grabbed Inko just as her knees began to buckle.
“Inko-san…” she whispered, her own voice trembling, trying to be strong. “He’ll be okay. Izuku-kun… he’s strong. He knows how to survive… He promised me…”
I can’t do anything, Toga thought, a wave of bitter helplessness rising in her throat. The only person who offered me help… the only person who trusted me… and I’m here, hiding, useless, peeling potatoes while he could be…
She didn’t dare finish the thought.
Inko wasn’t listening. Her gaze was locked on the screen. She gently pushed Toga away.
“My son…” it was a choked whisper, a sound of pure agony. “My baby… I have to go.”
She grabbed her keys from the counter, her hands shaking so violently she could barely hold them, and ran for the door.
“Inko-san, wait!” Toga yelled. “I can’t! The police will be everywhere!”
But Inko was already gone. Toga stood alone in the middle of the apartment, the smell of the half-cooked meal now a nauseating aroma. She stared at the screen, where the helicopter’s camera was trying to zoom in on the golden figure moving like a blur, an expression of absolute helplessness on her face.
Back at the USJ, the central plaza was a triage in hell. The pro heroes who had arrived moved with grim efficiency, securing the minor villains and tending to the injured students. Amid the chaos, Recovery Girl, U.A.’s healing hero, arrived on the scene. Her normally jovial face twisted into a mask of professional horror when she saw Izuku’s body.
All Might’s battle against the Nomu was a backdrop of booms and seismic tremors, but for the medical team, the only universe that existed was the broken figure lying on the ground.
“Good heavens!” Recovery Girl exclaimed, her expert hands already assessing the damage. “Massive internal bleeding! Multiple compound fractures in both legs! Severe cranial trauma! It’s a miracle his heart is still beating! We need a stasis gurney now!”
Momo, covered in Izuku’s blood, refused to move aside. Her face was streaked with tears, but her grey eyes burned with a feverish intensity.
“No,” she said, her voice a mixture of logic and desperation. “Don’t move him yet. The bleeding is too severe. I can stabilize him.”
“Young lady, step aside! We are professionals!”
“I know his physiology!” she insisted, her voice gaining strength. “The Enhancer… my Quirk had a reaction with his… it gave me access to his biological data! I know where the damage is! I can create a temporary life support system! Just let me try!”
Recovery Girl looked at her, saw the insane but desperate logic in her eyes, and made a decision. “Alright! But be quick, child! We don’t have time!”
Momo nodded and got to work. She became an extension of her Quirk, her grief channeled into a miraculous creation. She worked alongside the paramedics, her hands moving with a speed and precision that defied her emotional state.
“I need an internal coagulation patch for the femoral artery,” she murmured, and a translucent, glowing patch sprouted from her arm. “And a transcranial neural stimulator to keep his brain activity above the critical threshold.”
She created impossible tools, medical technology that shouldn’t exist outside a state-of-the-art laboratory. And as she worked, she continued to cradle Izuku’s head in her lap, whispering to him, her voice a mantra to keep death at bay.
“You’re going to be okay, Izuku. Don’t you dare leave. Do you hear me? When you wake up, we’ll talk, okay?”
All Might’s battle had reached a turning point. He realized that brute force, even his, was not enough. This Nomu was designed to absorb his blows, to be his absolute negation.
Then I’ll have to do what it can’t, he thought, dodging a blow that pulverized the ground. I have to go beyond absorption!
The memory of Momo’s tear-streaked face, Aizawa’s broken body, Ochako’s vacant stare… it all fed his rage. His guilt became fuel.
“FOR EVERY ONE OF AIZAWA’S BROKEN BONES!” he roared, unleashing a barrage of fifty blows that sent the Nomu staggering back for the first time.
“FOR EVERY ONE OF YOUNG YAOYOROZU’S TEARS!”
A hundred more blows. The air crackled. The ground shattered.
“FOR YOUNG URARAKA’S BROKEN SOUL!”
Two hundred blows. His fists were a blur, each impact a clap of thunder.
“AND THIS…!” he screamed, his voice torn by effort and pain, “THIS IS FOR YOU, YOUNG MIDORIYA! FOR YOUR BRAVERY! FOR YOUR SACRIFICE! BEYOND… PLUS ULTRA!”
He unleashed a final storm. Hundreds of punches in a matter of seconds, so fast, so powerful, they completely overwhelmed the Nomu’s ability to absorb. The monster began to break apart, its flesh giving way, unable to dissipate so much energy at once.
With one last, devastating punch—a Detroit Smash that carried the weight of all his guilt—All Might disintegrated the Nomu’s torso and sent the charred remains flying out of the dome, leaving a new, massive hole in the glass ceiling.
He stood victorious, steam pouring from his body in thick clouds. He was at his limit. About to revert to his skeletal form.
In that precarious moment of calm, a new sound shattered the silence. A heart-wrenching scream from outside.
“IZUKU!! MY SON!!”
Inko Midoriya had arrived. She was at the police barricade, fighting against the officers trying to hold her back, her face a mask of absolute terror as she saw the devastation inside.
All Might, on the verge of collapsing, surveyed the final scene of the battlefield. He saw the paramedics finally placing Izuku on a stasis gurney, his condition critical. He saw Momo running alongside it, refusing to leave him. And he saw a grim-faced man in a trench coat, Detective Tsukauchi, approaching Ochako’s catatonic figure.
The detective knelt gently in front of her.
“Uraraka Ochako,” he said, his voice professional but not without compassion. “I’m sorry to interrupt at such a difficult time, but I need you to come with us. There are… there are many questions that need answers.”
Ochako’s empty eyes didn’t even move to look at him. Her victory had become a sentence.
