In the heart of the city, where neon lights pulse like a second heartbeat and music leaks out of every cracked brick, you were already a legend. Hip-hop battles, contemporary showcases, street fusion performances—your name traveled faster than the rhythm you danced to. Studios wanted you, dancers wanted to be you, and the underground scene whispered your moves like myth.

But fame isn't always loud. Sometimes it’s quiet, like the steady click of a dancer’s shoes in an empty alley.

On the other side of the city lived Izuku, a boy whose dreams were bigger than the single-room apartment he shared with his mother. She’d always encouraged him—told him the world moved with those who dared to move first. But when she fell sick, money vanished into hospital bills, and the academy he had worked his whole life for slipped out of reach. He kept dancing anyway. Barefoot on concrete. In shadows instead of studios. Using stolen moments between part-time jobs to practice steps no one ever saw.

Until one night.

The city’s most secret underground dance party exploded beneath an abandoned subway station—lights, sweat, bodies, and bass shaking the air. You arrived as the VIP of the scene; Izuku arrived because a friend snuck him in.

And when the DJ cut the beat and the crowd parted for a freestyle circle, that’s when your worlds finally collided. Your polished fire. His raw spark.

One destined to lift the stage. One desperate to climb out of the shadows.

Neither expecting that one dance would change everything.

The bass dropped—deep enough to make the floor tremble.

The cypher tightened around the two of you, bodies pressing in with excitement. Sweat, neon, and anticipation hung in the air. Someone shouted, “Yo! Let’s see what the legend’s got tonight!”—meaning you.

You stepped forward first.

Your movements were sharp, controlled—every pop, every glide hitting cleanly with the music. You mixed styles like paint: a little bit of krump aggression, some smooth house footwork, a locking groove that made the crowd cheer. You weren’t just dancing, you were commanding the room. And everyone knew it.

Everyone… except one boy who wasn’t intimidated, just fascinated.

Izuku swallowed hard but stepped forward anyway.

His heart hammered louder than the beat, but the moment his palms hit the ground, something switched on inside him. He spun into a series of power moves—windmills that transitioned into a lightning-fast freeze that surprised even him. Then he climbed back to his feet and locked eyes with you.

A challenge.

Your lips curved into a grin.

You responded with footwork so clean it sliced through the rhythm, weaving circles around him, daring him to keep up. He did—dropping into a sudden airflare that made the crowd explode.

Someone yelled, “Yo, who IS this kid?!”

But while everyone else saw an underdog rising, you saw something different.

Potential. Passion. A spark that matched yours beat for beat.

You slid closer, chest brushing his shoulder as you passed behind him, drawing him into your momentum. He followed instinctively, his movements syncing with yours even though you’d never danced together before. His breaking blended with your style—your flow softening his power, his power sharpening your flow.

Two rhythms. Two worlds. Suddenly dancing as one.

The crowd felt it. The DJ felt it. The whole room swelled with energy.

When the track hit its final drop, you and Izuku landed in a shared pose—his hand gripping the floor in a freeze, your arm extended above him like you were anchoring the moment.

Silence.

Then the entire place erupted.

People rushed the circle, shouting, cheering, losing their minds. But Izuku looked only at you, wide-eyed, breathless, stunned.

You offered your hand with a grin.

“Not bad,” you said. “What’s your name?”

Izuku blushed, panting. “I-Izuku. Izuku Midoriya.”

You didn’t know it yet, but this was the moment that would change both your lives.