Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Ever since he’d been born Midoryia had been a quiet kid. He never cried, never screamed and eventually, the doctors realized why. He was born with a mutant quirk that was with him since birth. It was an unfortunate quirk that stopped him from sleeping, yet he could still feel tired. This quirk also let him transfer the sleep deprivation to someone else with a simple touch. They would, unfortunately, receive the full effects of however long he’d been awake without already touching someone while he would “awaken” as all of his senses would come back to him.

This touch-based monstrosity of a quirk is why, currently, he’s covered head to toe in as much clothing as he can get his filthy homeless hands on. He has a mismatched pair of gloves he stole from the lost and found at the shelter three streets over, an overcoat a dying man gave to him, jeans ripped from a dead yakuza member, near neon red shoes stolen from a department store closeout sale, and a mask that covered the lower half of his face from a nice lady who said he looked cold. It was a suspicious outfit, but thankfully easily explained by the cold as shit weather that had rolled in recently.

Now, as to why he’s homeless, well now, that’s a level four friend backstory which currently, his squatting buddy, Dabi, is the only one privy to. However, all of his giant ass issues had nothing on the aforementioned cold as shit weather. It was currently about negative eighteen Celcius and Izuku was about ready to throw hands with God if it meant that he could get to the store and buy instant ramen without losing a nose to frostbite. 

“Why did I bet against the moron with literal staples holding his face in place in poker? I bet those stupid things hold his face in one position.” Izuku grumbled as he entered the 24-hour convenience store.

Rounding a corner, he spotted the wonderful packets of life-saving ramen. In a stroke of luck, said cheap packets were also on sale. Unfortunately, they were also nearly out and a man with the most greasy and scraggly looking black hair was about to take the last few. Groaning, Izuku walked slowly up to the man and subtly removed his gloves. Then, reaching around the man at about the same time, he brushed hands with the man as they moved to the same packet. 

The results were almost instantaneous, the man’s knees gave out at the exact instance Izuku’s entire being lightened. Stunned for three seconds as all of Izuku’s senses came back to him, uninhibited by the lingering sleep deprivation, the man’s head hit the tiled floor with a resounding crack.

Jumping Izuku grabbed the remaining packets from the shelf (enough to last him and Dabi a few days until the next match) and booked it to the cash register where a mildly concerned employee looked at the panicked boy.

“Hey listen, I didn’t mean to since my quirk’s constantly active, but I accidentally sent a man into a sleep coma for a hot second. I didn’t think out hands touched, but they did, and well, he’s probably going to need someone to pick him up.” Izuku motioned to the aisle behind him. “I’ll write down about how long he’s gonna be out here is that okay?”

The cashier nodded and began rifling through the register for a paper and then an accidental quirk use number. Once he’d found both, the employee handed the boy a paper to write on and dialed the number. After a short conversation, the employee hung up, nodded at Izuku and helped him check out. Izuku walked out of the store feeling a little guilty as he tugged his gloves back on carefully, but he supposed it didn’t matter, after all, food was food and who was he to get in the way of a hungry and bitter Dabi.

Walking down the abandoned street Izuku hummed a few tunes he could remember from his childhood home. After a few minutes, he found the dank (ha) alleyway he needed and clambered up the fire escape into a decrepit building only used by the rats and his friend.

“Hey bitch, guess who got the ramen on sale?” Izuku called as he squeezed through the window.

“No way!” An older teen whipped around the corner from the bathroom. “Does that mean we have money to spend?”

Izuku’s grin was feral as he held up the ten extra stolen bucks. “Yup!”

Dabi grinned back and ripped a scared hand back through his dyed black hair. “We have to go wild. Decorate this place up a little”

 He turned to the living room and pointed at a wall that was falling apart to reveal another room on the other side. “Maybe a poster.”

Then he moved to the door at the end of the hallway and tapped a hole. “Some ducktape.”

Then he moved to the ratty old couch with more holes than swiss cheese. “Or a blanket. Our options are endless. ”

“Dope, but for now, hook up that microwave and grab a water bottle, I wanna feast .” Izuku placed the bag on a counter. “By the way, watch out for a dude with scraggly black hair. I knocked him out, and I don’t wanna be jumped by someone again. Last time was bad enough, but you know I can’t react too well to the awake people.”

“Sounds fair,” Dabi was popping open a bottle as he opened the microwave they had managed to rig for actual use. “Not the getting jumped part, but the looking out part.”

“Right right,” Izuku pulled himself up onto the island in the center of the room and folded his legs underneath him. He bounced his knees as he watched the cup of instant life round for the third time in the cooker.

Maybe it was something in the methodic way the stupid cup would continue to turn in the microwave, or the way Dabi, for as cold as his body was, always seemed warm. But Izuku Midoriya wouldn’t have his life anyway else. He enjoyed this simple way of living. 

Still, though, this peaceful time cannot last, after all, give me a hero and I will show you a tragedy.

Chapter Text

Dabi was never a betting man. In fact, when he’d run away from the hell hole that he used to call home, he’d actively avoided gambling rings, fighting rings, and their ilk. They were places where the real villains looked for recruits, and at the moment, Dabi didn’t want to touch the idea of organized crime with a thirty-nine and a half foot pole. It was something that, even on the horrible days when he wished his scars were deeper so he wouldn’t look like that man, he’d never even considered. So, color him surprised when he found himself outside of one of the biggest fighting rings in the general Musutafu area. 

He’d been waiting on his buddy, Miyazaki Iwao, who was going in to collect the money he’d earned in the ring when he’d heard it. A crashing sound, that in the abandoned alleyway sounded like thunder on a calm night. The form ducked to dodge a knife that barely missed Dabi himself. Stunned, he had no clue what to do. Even his father’s brutal training couldn’t have prepared him for a child, because that was who had turned into the alleyway like a bat out of hell, escaping the possible organized crime he was avoiding. 

“Sorry mister, but could you become a roadblock for me real quick?” A tiny voice rattled him out of his thoughts, and the last thing he saw was a pair of sunken viridian eyes and the palest hand he’d ever seen that wasn’t dead. 

Then he collapsed like a ragdoll into the most fitful sleep he’d had in years.

“..abi…..bi...Da…” A voice was fading in and out as Dabi awoke from the sudden slumber forced upon him. “Hey, asshole.”

“Couldn’t you be a bit nicer to the man who was put in a temporary coma?” Dabi covered his eyes as he sat up and leaned back against the dingy alley wall that he’d nearly fallen into a while ago. “I mean really, manners and all that.”

“No can do buckaroo.” Miyazaki grinned. “It would seem you got hit by a quirk.”

Dabi froze for a second, and then looked his moronic friend in the eye. “No, wait, really . I never would’ve guessed.”

“Yeah well, it happens,” The man rubbed a hand down his neck sheepishly. “If it makes you feel better, the kid that nailed you, he’s already nailed some of the best fighters in this district. They call him Bandit because he steals your ability to stay awake.”

“That’s a really dumb name, you know that right?” Dabi said as he accepted the outstretched hand to pull him up. Once on his feet, he dusted off his ripped up, too-short pants and checked to see if he was robbed. Deciding that he wasn’t, Dabi returned his attention to the conversation at hand.

“Yeah, they do, but fighters aren’t exactly known for their creativity.” He chuckled and began to move towards the entrance to the side street.

“That’s fair,” Dabi agreed following him out. 

Still, though, something about the way the kid had taken him out was odd, maybe it was his eyes or the fact that he’d been polite as he turned him into a literal bump in the road. Whatever it was, he wasn’t likely to see that kid again unless it was to get knocked out again, which in all fairness Dabi had needed. Anyway, he digresses’ and now it was time to turn to find a spot to chill for the night.

Okay universe, when he’d thought he wasn’t likely to see the literal child running from kidnappers again, he hadn’t meant it as a challenge . Because now, curled up on the couch in the crappy apartment he considered home, was the same kid bleeding from at least three different places. Not cool universe, not cool.

“Hey, uh kiddo?” God, why did Dabi have to have awful social skills? Oh yeah right, traumatic childhood and daddy issues, right. “You’re bleeding and crying on my sofa, so uh, you need anything? An ice pack, some stitches, or uh, a responsible adult figure?”

The kid sniffled a bit and let out a watery laugh. “Any of those would be nice. If you can find some.”

“Great great,” Dabi ran a hand through his hair, it was sticky and greasy, but that’s what you get when you don’t live in a place with running water. “So listen, I have a first aid kit, but I’m going to need you to sit up so I can patch up those cuts.”

The kid nodded numbly, all traces of the bright child gone as they grunted again trying to sit on the formless blob known as a couch. Dabi walked swiftly into the decrepit bathroom and rummaged around in the shower where he kept all the medical stuff. When his place was broken into a while back, they took mostly medical supplies, and so he was a bit short stocked right now. Grabbing what he thought would be appropriate for the level of injuries the kid had, he booked it back out and to the living room where the kid, now sitting upright, was still curled into himself.

“I’m back,” Dabi informed him softly, attempting to not startle the kid too badly. “I’ve got the first aid stuff, but in order to help you out, I’m going to have to look at those cuts kiddo.”

The kid nodded dumbly again and began to unclench himself from the hermetically sealed ball he’d wound himself into. Dabi hissed once he saw the moderate-sized gash on the kid’s stomach. It was bleeding something awful and looked like it would get infected without treatment. It had cut straight through layer after layer of clothing that, even in the sweltering summer night, the kid had decided to wear.

“Be careful,” The kid groaned out as Dabi began disinfecting the wound. “If you touch me, what happened last time will happen again.”

“Duly noted kid, but that isn’t gonna stop me from not wearing gloves.” He wiggled his fingers in hopes of getting a reaction as he said: “After all, they’d ruin my dexterous fingers.”

“Disgusting,” The child’s response was barely there as he started to pass out from the pain. Then oddly enough, when he was right about to pass out, the kid jolted awake again. “Damn it, so blood loss won’t even help.”

“Help what?” Dabi asked as he placed a bandage over the now much nicer looking gash. 

“My quirk,” The kid grumbled. “ ‘s called Sleep Deprivation, I can knock people out with a touch, effects varying on how long it’s been since I’ve last touched someone.” The kid paused, touched his chin thinking about something, and then amended his statement after an uncomfortable silence. “It also prevents me from sleeping. I got caught so I could see if blood loss would allow me to lose consciousness. As you’re seeing the results, it apparently does not work.”

“Kid, did you purposely pick a fight, get injured, and then nearly bleed out on someone’s couch for this experiment?” Dabi was again stunned to the floor. Who in their right mind-wait, the kid, with a quirk like that is probably not in his right mind.

“Yes?” The kid tugged sheepishly at his forest green locks. 

“Why is that phrased as a question?” Dabi threw his hands up, staples tugging in protest as he stretched long-dead skin. “You should know why you’re doing something before you do it!”

“Well, maybe I like playing Russian Roulette with yakuza!” The kid stood up too quickly and would’ve tipped over if it hadn’t been for Dabi nearly vaulting over the couch to catch him. 

“Well, maybe that’s a bad idea,” Dabi grumbled setting the kid gently on the tattered couch. Looking down at this kid Dabi realized that he was going to do something incredibly stupid and considerably life-altering. “Listen, I’m going to offer you a deal.”

“I’m listening ,” The child had the gall to purr at him even while his eyes screamed that he was in pain. 

“Okay smartass, you can chill here until you get your stupid self fixed up, I’ll get you food and all that jazz. Then, when you’re all fine and dandy, I’ll share this hole in the wall with you.” Dabi ran a hand down his face and tugged at one of the staples at the corner of his mouth. “We alternate who goes to grab food, you help me fix this place up, and you can crash here and use the medical supplies when you want. Sound fair?”

“Fair enough!” The kid chirped and then cocked his head a little. His turtleneck crinkled as something seemed to dawn on him. A grin split his face as he asked a question that Dabi was sure to regret later. “Oh great savior, may you bequeath me one more favor?”

“What oh illustrious bleeding one?” Dabi humored the kid’s vocabulary, definitely not street raised, but with that hidden bite, all the older ones had.

“What’s your name?” 

“Dabi, yours?”

“Izuku, but you can just call me green or ‘Zuku. Also, that’s a very fake name; cremation. Let me guess fire quirk?”

“You’ve got me there, but at least I’m not named Bandit by multiple high caliber fighters.”

“You hold a fair point, but still, ‘Dabi’ that’s like hella pretentious my dude.”

“Preten- I’ll show you damn pretentious!”

Yeah, this was going to be a fun rest of his life. If he indeed made it that far and wasn’t arrested for the slaughter of one Izuku Midoriya.

Chapter Text

If Midoryia Izuku had a nickel for every time someone had told him to go to sleep, he could’ve paid them to shut the hell up. It was always; ‘you look dead inside’ or ‘get some rest tall child’ (never ‘are you, okay tall tired child?’). Now, while these aforementioned statements were all true, it still hurt to hear them said out loud, specifically to his face. 

 Sadly, Izuku was not able to voice this very reasonable complaint as the person complaining about said appearance was an underground hero. And this underground hero also happened to be the person that he nerfed to get the last six ramen packets last week. This meant, instead of speaking, he was wrapped like a mummy by a scarf that should not move like that thank you very much. The situation was not helped by the fact that Dabi was laughing his ass off not three feet away.

Now, let’s roll this scene back a few hours, how did our wonderful hero end his day strung up by his toenails while being bitched at about his deteriorating health by a person who looked as sleep-deprived as he did? Well, children, it was a series of mistakes that started with waking up Dabi from his fourteen hours of beauty sleep (not like he needed it because as Izuku saw it, nothing was going to help those staples on his face).

~ Ten Hours Ago in the Rat Apartment~

“Dabi if you don’t get your ass up and kill this spider I will skin you!” Izuku shrieked as the stupid eight-legged terror climbed the wall like it’s life depended on it, which given the pitch and volume Izuku was yelling at, it probably did.

“How,” Dabi yawned as he rounded the corner from the mouse infested mattress room that they called a bedroom, and scratched the stapling underneath his off-white shirt. “Can you threaten people like that, ” He glared and pointed a crooked accusatory finger. “But not take care of a tin-hoLY SHIT!”

Dabi jumped back and scrambled to the only available corner as he spotted the fist-sized spider that was turning their ceiling into a Tough Mudder Obstacle course. It raced by all the bumps and holes that their cardboard excuse of a ceiling had to offer and was now making its way to the only place that could house their meager excuse of a food supply; the only cupboard left intact from nature.

“Kill it with FIRE, you moron!” Izuku said as he debated making a break for the food supply that the spider was also booking it to likely make a nest in.

“If I did that you dipshit,” Dabi growled, eyes still pinned on the living mutant of a creature scuttling its way across the island in the kitchen. “We’d burn down the only place we have to stay that hasn’t been found out yet.”

“Yeah well, you got any better ideas, Sherlock?” Izuku took a deep breath and sprinted to the ramen, but was unfortunately intercepted by the spider literally jumping onto his back. 

“Izuku! Stand very still and don’t freak out.” Dabi moved slowly towards the now stone still teenager that looked as pale as a sheet. “I’m going to burn it off your back, but I need you to not move.”

“ I felt it hit me, in the back DABI! ” Izuku hissed, his face contorted between something like utter fear and vehement rage. “ I FELT IT!”

“Don’t have to tell me twice,” The patchwork man grumbled as he finally reached his destination and lit the thing on fire. 

The brown thing lit up like a tinder box. It seemingly screeched once and then jumped again, this time, right into the ramen.

“NO!” Both boys yelled as they lunged for the now on fire packets that honestly shouldn’t have gone up in smoke as quickly as they had.

This incident, sadly, was what sparked the fire that burned down the entire complex and left the kids out on the street in the middle of the night. This led to them huddling together for warmth underneath an awning, which lead to the cops being called on them. This series of unfortunate events led them to escape the cops and eventually be pursued by the only hero available at the time; Eraserhead. From there, we can all guess what happened

~Back To the Present~

“Hey, hey green, you okay there?” Dabi managed to spit out between wheezes.

Izuku wanted to say something along the lines of ‘yes, but not because of you’ but it came out muffled and only partially, meaning it sounded like this 

“Mmph, n cursh o ho.” Which only served to send Dabi into another round of hysterics.

The underground hero meanwhile, was not all that impressed. He’d expected some odd calls like this at about one AM, but these two morons, one an older teenager and an actual teenager (specifically the one who stole the instant ramen packet’s he’d had his eyes on), was certainly not it.

“What the hell is this?” Eraserhead questioned the spinning mummy Izuku that hung from a lampost. “Are you two serial arsonists?”

“Nope,” Dabi popped the ‘p’ and leaned forward to get a better look at Eraserhead. “Hey ‘Zuku, he looks like you but older.”

Izuku who had now managed to get his face and left-hand free promptly flipped Dabi off and then said:

“First of all Eraserhead, that specific burning building was an accident caused by an eight-legged demon, so no, we aren’t the serial arsonists, and two Dabi you’re a jerk.”

“That’s fair.” His friend shrugged and went back to picking at the staple that had come lose most recently. 

He’s going to have to replace that soon, Izuku thought absentmindedly as he was lowered from his bat-like position. Eventually, after setting him carefully on the ground, Eraserhead wound up the capture rope and stared at the two interacting as if they were a puzzle to be solved. Izuku, of course, spotted this and stared straight back while still continuing the conversation as if nothing was happening. 

“Alright, you guys had to know the question’s coming, but where are your parents?” Eraserhead obviously didn’t expect a real answer, so Izuku ever the rebel, gave him one. And Dabi ever the chaos gremlin also gave him an answer, but with absolutely no context

“Dead” at the same time Dabi said, “Faked my death.”

Both responses had the intended effect of freezing the hero to the spot and causing the other half of the pair to burst out into laughter. 

“You two have got to be kidding me,” The man said, pulling off the horrendous yellow goggles that protected his eyes. (Those really could be better designed, but that was a private Izuku thought for another day, preferably one with more paper and a computer.)

“Yeah, we wish,” Izuku rolled his eyes wondering where this conversation was going. 

He’d tried the foster home thing before, but people really don’t like the concept of being put to sleep randomly or a child that doesn’t sleep themselves (It was CREEPY they’d scream). It also wasn’t like he’d escaped from every single one until they just gave up looking for him. Besides, he thinks that if he was separated from his best friend/ brother figure, he’d actually cry, but that’s entirely different codependency issue. Another factor to consider is that Dabi’s quirk was self-destructive, which very few foster families would be amenable to. So yeah no, if this dude even mentioned that system Izuku was gonna bolt.

“Fine, I’m going to regret this inevitably, but follow me.” The man in black started walking as Dabi and Izuku exchanged a look. 

“Can we trust him?” Dabi leaned in and whispered to the only kid who knew more about heroes than the hero commission by pure observation alone. 

“Everything I’ve seen points to the fact that he’s okay,” Izuku shrugged wondering what Eraserhead’s game was. “Hey, old man! Where are we going?”

“God problem children, it’s Aizawa, not old man, and to my home,” He paused and looked at the pair standing still under the lamplight. “After all, we have an extra bedroom or two and Mic’s always wanted kids.”

“So you’re telling me, that you’re kidnapping street children to play house with?” Dabi’s eyebrows shot up. “Real straight forward for a predator man.”

“Whatever makes you feel comfortable!” Eraser-no- Aizawa shot back as he walked over to the sidewalk that leads to his apartment. “One way or another, this is a one time offer, so take it or leave it.”

Izuku grinned and then looked up at Dabi who was still in shock that the man had risen to, and outdone his jab. Grabbing his friend’s attention, Izuku gave a thumbs up and started jogging towards the wandering hero. After all, what could possibly go wrong?

Chapter Text

As it turns out, for one Aizawa Shouta, things could go very wrong, because the minute he got back to his apartment, he was suddenly reminded that his longtime boyfriend was home. This would be along with the hellion cat known as Snuffles (An incredibly inaccurate name that captured none of the chaotic energy that being wrought). So, doing what every responsible adult would do, he immediately turned around, looked at the two children behind him and froze. Everything slipped away from him because, at that moment, he had a horrible thought of what would happen when loud met louder.  With that thought in mind he looked the older, and hopefully more responsible of the two teenagers in the eye and said;

“For the love of God, when you meet the person on the other side of this door, promise me that you let me have five minutes to myself a day at least.” He was going to need so much coffee to survive this arrangement, even if the kids didn’t decide to stay. 

“Aizawa, Aizawa,” The Frankensteined together teen drawled with a wolfish grin on his face as the younger of the two stared straight ahead, listening but seemingly uninterested. “Think about what you’d be making us do? Have we shut up once on the way here?” Aizawa’s face fell and the Izuku's eyes sparkled as his cheeks crinkled under the mask he wore, but still, his eyes didn’t move. “Exactly that would be against our nature old man.”

“First of all, I’ve told you to stop calling me that, and second off, I’m very close to begging you. That man will yell and then you’ll yell, it will become a never-ending cycle, and I won’t get another moment to myself.” Shouta felt like he was on the verge of tears. He was just a tired, tired man, he wanted only to rest. Was this too much to ask?

“My dude, you’re not going to make it then,” Dabi, the teen chuckled and then, noticing his companion's silence bit his lower lip and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “Hey, ‘Zuku you okay?”

The boy, ‘Zuku, shook his head and grimaced. “Yeah, I’m good. Just reminded of some rather unpleasant memories. Nothing that won’t pass!”

That obvious deflection was cause for concern, but Shouta figured that he’d deal with it later, specifically once he’d had a full and fitful four to five hours of sleep. Turning again, he tried to pull together enough energy to explain this hot mess, but finding nothing left, he gave up, put the key in the lock, turned it, opened the door and prayed for the best.

“SHOUTA’S HOME!” Came a resounding (loud) welcome that had Shouta wanting to stab his ears out.

“Damn, when you said not a minute rest and yelling, I didn’t think you meant this .” Dabi whistled as Hizashi bolted from the kitchen in a Kiss the Cook apron with his fair blond hair pulled into a messy bun. “I seriously wouldn’t think that you would room with a man who’s louder than both me and ‘Zuku combined. Impressive. That takes some dedication.”

“Shut it,” Aizawa craved the sweet release of sleep. Please, let it be soon.

“Never,” Finally, the other chaos entity decided to be benevolent and grace Aizawa with his presence. Then in a louder voice, ‘Zuku grinned and asked: “Who’s this?”

“Yamada Hizashi at your service listeners!” Hizashi was grinning like a maniac, likely appreciating the fact that there were now two new people who could mock Shouta’s poor tired self. “Who’re you?”

“Midoriya Izuku!” The kid, Midoriya, flourished his name with a bow, extending his hand and pulling the mask down at the same time to reveal a small scar right by the corner of his mouth. 

“Dabi,” Dabi nods sharply once and pulls a hand from his pocket to give a slight wave.

“Wonderful to meet you, listeners!” Hizashi turned to glare at Shouta now, for some reason he was likely to find out soon. “If I’d been told, however, I would’ve made more than just one late-night snack.”

The two teens turned with a gleam in their eye and smirk with words of torment on their lips and so Shouta feared . Hizashi had found new allies in his war against Shouta’s awful habits. Allies who wouldn’t forget a thing, and if given the technology and opportunity, would catalog it for alphabetized use. It was in that moment as well, ironically or whatever, that Shouta realized how well the two kids fit into his home. They’d taken to Hizashi like fish to water, and seemed to adapt to the weird personality that Shouta had shown them almost as quickly. Who knew, maybe this thing would work out, even if they only wanted to stay for a night.

~A few unknown measures of time later~

As it turns out, one of the two children happened to share something with him. Insomnia. Something that Shouta would wish only on his worst of enemies. It was way too early in the morning when Shouta had been plagued by nightmares of a building falling and woke up in a cold sweat next to Hizashi. Carefully he made his way out of the bed, peeling the soaked sheets off of his body, and treading lightly to the kitchen for the cup(s) of coffee that would carry him through the rest of the day. 

As he trailed through the hallway, Snuffles mewing for her mid-nighttime treat, he saw a light ahead. It was obvious from the kitchen, but he’d thought everyone was asleep. The boys, mainly Dabi, had passed out cold the near minute their heads had hit the pillow, and he knew Hizashi was still out cold as well. It couldn’t have been a thief, they would’ve had to make it past both Snuffles and the keyed-up instincts of two pro heroes.

Peaking around the corner, he found the small green child, Midoriya, hopped up on the counter, feet dangling as he stared into a void, looking just as tired as the day he knocked Shouta out. It was possible Midoriya was like this from years of living on the street, or it could just be nerves about being in a new place, but something seemed to be off about how Midoriya stared straight ahead at nothing.

“Are you going to round that corner Aizawa?” Midoriya turned his head to unerringly meet Shouta’s eyes. His eyes were nearly purple bruises. Holy hell, how long had it been since this kid had gotten a good night's sleep?

“Eventually kid. In my own time, I’m old, remember?” Shouta got a single chuckle for that jab and decided that he might as well grab that coffee he was gunning for while he held a conversation that should probably wait until the morning. When both of them were more lucid. “Why are you still up? Can’t sleep?”

The kid exhaled slowly, something short of snort, but too quick for a simple breath, and then looked to and then out the window in response. Midoriya was still wearing long sleeves, gloves as well as long pants with socks, all given to him by Hizashi (who, for some reason, still had a lot of his stuff from high school) who had insisted on throwing everything those two owned in the wash once he saw the state it was all in. Initially, Shouta had thought Midoriya dressed like that was because they had no place to store extra clothes and so had to wear it all, but it became increasingly obvious (read the problem child had thrown a ridiculous and hysterical fit about not wearing something warm after all he got oh so cold at night and wouldn’t that be in bad form as hosts. ) that he wasn’t going to wear anything other than clothing that would cover all of him. Although that still didn’t explain the gloves, every time he was pressed, the kid deflected them like his life depended on it.

“Something like that,” Midoriya murmured softly, the lighting in the room gave him a slightly ethereal look, green eyes flickering with flecks of the golden light, and if the timer on the stove hadn’t gone off, Shouta could’ve stared at the kid for hours trying to identify that look. “Something like that,”

“So?” Shouta poured the boiling hot water over the grounds. 

“So what?” The kid looked at him, eyes heavy with melancholy only pros too long in the field carried. It unnerved Shouta, that a boy of what could only be thirteen could look so tired as if his torment would never end.

“So, what’s with the something like that?” Shouta steeled himself in front of the kid’s scrutinizing gaze. For some reason, he felt the need to make sure this kid knew he was trustworthy. It was odd, but it was also god awful early so Shouta wasn’t going to look too deep into it at the moment.

“My quirk,” Midoriya began after a healthy pause. “Stops me from sleeping, it’s also the reason why you passed out when I touched you. I transfer however long I haven’t slept to someone and by extension, I ‘sleep’ myself. Its a nuisance and it’s gotten me kicked out of one too many places for me to count.”

Shouta wanted to scream, of course, it was a quirk. He hadn’t thought about it then, but after getting hit by the kid’s quirk, he’d awoken in the apartment completely fine and feeling like he was actually alive for once, which was really odd. The kid probably formed a connection and would transfer the chemical imbalance causing a normal person to ‘shut down’ or go into a sleep coma. It’s a helluva good quirk, but also potentially deadly varying from person to person. 

“Have you been to a quirk counselor? They might be able to help,” Shouta asked, you know, like an idiot, because he didn’t remember all of the times he’d told people to stop pushing when faced with a very similar situation.

Midoryia now gave him a look that essentially translated to no, no I haven’t you absolute moron , (One Shouta’d used many times when he too was a teenager) and said; “No, in fact, I haven’t been back to school, which would provide me with one, for years considering the fact that you need to have parents to do that and I killed mine when I was five in a freak accident.”

And with that wonderful comment, he jumped down from the counter and made his escape to the room he shared with Dabi scooping up the still whining and mewling Snuffles the cat. Shouta was left stunned. 

Five. This kid was five when he was forced out of a life that every child should have. He was likely ridiculed and hated, reminded constantly of what he’d done and how it had happened. Especially in foster homes that were not equipped to deal with a quirk like his. No wonder he wore so many clothing layers. He was probably constantly afraid of harming or killing someone, but no, wait, he’d used it against Shouta with no fear. However, it was possible the kid had managed to touch someone a few days before or the like and knew it wouldn’t harm Shouta.

This was now an issue that had to be taken care of. This kid was a danger to himself, considering how tired and off he looked (again, Shouta knew that look and it often led to very dangerous things), and potentially to others if Midoriya couldn’t get a handle on his quirk. Shouta decided right then he would make sure this kid stayed, even if it meant that Shouta’d sacrifice some of his own sleep schedule in helping out. It would be a sad, but necessary loss in the war to get that kid some help. Nodding to himself, he padded back to the office that was a door down from the guest room.

 Before he entered the room to get on the computer and finish the report for tonight, he took a peek into the room that Dabi and Midoriya shared to make sure the problem child hadn’t runoff. Inside, he found Dabi holding a lightly crying Midoriya carefully. He had his arms gently wrapped around the boy in a protective manner and was carefully pulling him in so that he could rest his head in the boys, matted, but fluffy green and black hair. Dabi had seemingly decided that it was the right idea to expose as little skin as possible and was wearing a long sleeve shirt that was actually Shouta’s, he was also whispering something to the younger boy. Whatever it was seemed to be helping, and so Shouta gave a small smile to Dabi who had looked up from reassuring Midoriya and nodded once to Shouta himself in acknowledgment.

Closing the door on the heartwarming scene, Shouta took a deep breath. It was going to be a long day tomorrow, but he was going to convince these kids to stay no matter what.

Chapter Text

Izuku "woke up" feeling drained and dry like a desert. He hadn’t expected Aizawa to walk in on one of his wonderful moments of self-loathing and disassociation, but with the man looking as tired as he did, Izuku should’ve expected that he had insomnia. Now all he could do was hope that Aizawa was willing to house a technical murderer. Aizawa had seemed surprised last night, but even with how quickly Izuku scooted out of that situation with a cat, Izuku thought he saw some indignant rage on his behalf. (Although that might just be him projecting again. Even though he hadn’t meant it, and came to terms years ago, people still held that moment over his head like it was some kind of indicator of his “failing morality” or whatever.)

So, instead of being a decent houseguest and actually getting out of his depression-hangover bed to talk with people, he decided to snuggle the hellcat that Yamada had called Snuffles. In a bout of bad luck, Snuffles was not informed of his transfer to lap and comfort cat status and was thus clawing up a storm. Izuku smiled softly realizing this was not a war that he would win and released the cat to go where it wished and claw who it will.

Looking out the single window in the guest room, Izuku pulled himself up from laying on the floor to sit on the sill and watch the wind rustle the branches of an empty tree outside the apartment. If Izuku wasn’t so exhausted, he would’ve enjoyed the view a bit more because it truly was a beautiful day. 

The sun shone in just a way that when the snow refracted light, it was a rainbow of colors that sprinkled the side of the building in swaths of every color known. When a tree’s branches moved, the light danced like faeries in the wind, sweet and soft. Branches swayed with the wind and would bend only to drop smooth piles of snow onto the ground with a soft whump. Those piles splayed out and built up creating a dainty pile of white snow that looked like a pillow. A winter wonderland of color had come to life today, a song had been sung in a lilting, spinning, and whispy voice today, today had ridden in on victory, the north wind at it’s back bringing its light and the cold.

But Izuku, Izuku could only see gray, gray and white and black. (Never the wonderful colors of Dabi’s eyes and fire that would have enraptured a younger Izuku)

Izuku barely heard the music that carried through the wind. (Never the music of life Dabi said he loved so). It was turned to a beat of a drum, the solid and soothing beat of his heart.

And Izuku never felt more than a tired dull throb that masked most of his feelings, a small hole where something was supposed to go. (They were never the raging wildfire Dabi felt at all times, those all-consuming flames he was fed by.)

It exasperated and disheartened him to no end, to know there was so much more, but that he’d only ever grasp it in the fleeting moments he made someone else feel the way it was for him. (There was a mountain more that he was simply to see, he was to be an observer of those who climbed it but never reach the summit for himself) 

His quirk was selfish, selfish, selfish.

It was only take, take, take, and take some more. 

Leaving him with so little, little, little. ( nothing)

He hated it so, so, so much. (somuch)

He wished some days it was gone. (Farfaraway)

It had been years since he’d told someone about what had happened when he was younger. Izuku was furious with himself for letting his guard down that quickly. Sure the man had a presence that told him it would be fine, but this wasn’t a petty secret. This was his story, his issues, and his life. (It was something no one but him should have to deal with.) Last night should not have happened and Izuku will be damned if he’ll actually face the consequences.

When Izuku had come in last night, a cat in hand and tears streaming down his face while making no sounds, Dabi knew it was bad. The truth was, the patchwork male had actually been awake for most of Aizawa and Izuku’s conversation and had heard a lot. It was more than ‘Zuku had shared in years. A dam had burst last night, and Dabi wasn’t sure he’d be able to patch it up to the way it had been. 

It was a struggle for Dabi to know if this was good or bad for the kid. Now there was an adult who knew and could help, but at the same time, with the way Izuku was looking out that window, Dabi was having his doubts.

Closing the door carefully as not to disturb his pensive little brother, he went back to the oddly muted breakfast. With how loud it was when Aizawa had gotten home he’d expected Yamada to instantly start yelling when he work up. However, it turned out that Yamada was as much a morning person as Aizawa was, possibly even less so. 

As he walked out of the hallway and into the joined kitchen-dining-living room thing. Aizawa was seated at the chair farthest from the hallway and Yamada was in the kitchen leaning against the stove with a mug of coffee, it was a cute and domestic scene that would’ve been homey if not for the underlying concern about the youngest person in the house. 

“Any word?” Aizawa raised an eyebrow as he spoke softly.

“Nope,” Dabi sighed and started to tug at a loose staple near his ear as a nervous tick. This was stopped, however, when Yamada gave him a reprimanding look and Aizawa gave a grunt for him to continue. “I’ve only really seen him like this twice, okay? It’s generally best to leave him alone for a bit. He’ll come back eventually.”

“Of course,” Aizawa nodded once and gave a long sip of his coffee. “But, if he’s still like this tomorrow afternoon, I’m going to try to talk to him. If that fails, I’ll send in Yamada.”

“Then I’ll be the last  to go in then?” Dabi was curious as to why they weren’t going to have him talk to Izuku.

“Correct,” It was Yamada who spoke, quietly like he was comforting a lost child. “We have training for this type of stuff, I’ve had to talk down listeners before from things like this. Specifically, panic attacks, but never the less.”

“Right, proherodum.” Dabi spat it out, a little more bitter than he’d intended. When Yamada had told him he was Present Mic this morning (In an effort to be upfront with what was going on) Dabi had nearly grabbed Izuku and booked it. After all, limelight heroes weren’t exactly his favorite.

“Relax, everything will work out,” Yamada gave a small smile, green eyes twinkling with confidence that put Dabi at ease.

He knew it was genuine as well, considering his father never smiled at people like that.

“Boss,” A hushed voice from the shadows hissed. “We have a major issue.”

“How bad?” The warden was concerned. They rarely had issues at this prison since it was the most secure in America, so for an issue to labeled as major didn’t, well it didn’t inspire good feelings. 

“Prisoner Zero has escaped,” The man breathed out as the sirens began to blare and red lights flashed against every wall illuminating the man's panic-stricken face.

Far away on a plane to Japan, Prisoner Zero smiled and pushed a hand through their navy blue hair. They were on their way home, why shouldn't they be happy?

Chapter Text

Their hands gripped the lever as they pulled it down. Lights flared on with a loud thunk and screeching as power made its way through the lines. They walked out of the tiny preparation room and onto a balcony with feet echoing. Silence greeted Prisoner Zero as they stared out onto a gorgeous table lined by some of the most dangerous criminals alive. Old lights that hadn’t been used in years flickered on and off illuminating various faces contorted in varying amounts of terror.

“Welcome ladies and gentlemen to my wonderful and ‘voluntary’ meeting of all the major crime syndicates! I hope you’re all willing to sit down and listen to the very interesting tale that I have.” Prisoner Zero cackled and snapped their fingers grinning all the while. The faces and bodies went slack like marionettes cut from strings up and down the sides of the elegant table. “Damn though, seems like there isn’t really any choice, huh?”

Aizawa sighed and looked into the coffee in his hand for answers. It had nearly been a full day since Izuku had secluded himself in the guest room and it was about time for the agreement with Dabi to go down. He really didn’t want to intrude on the kid, but he really needed to talk to the problem child. They needed to get things for their two guests and discuss living situations. 

“Still nothing,” Dabi was leaning on the door frame from the rooms to the joint living and kitchen room. He was wearing an oversized sweatshirt that had the words “Turn It Up” in English on it with a pair of black skinny jeans Aizawa just happened to have from that one night with Nemuri. Aizawa heaved yet another sigh and got up stretching and mentally fortifying himself for this talk with a child he barely knew that would surely never go wrong. Life, however, seemed to have other plans. Izuku came sprinting out of the guest room and barreled straight into Dabi turning them over into a bundle of limbs the splayed out every which way. 

“Shit” Were Dabi’s last words before he was silenced by an elbow to the face and a Midoryia who was excited (or panicked, Aizawa genuinely couldn’t tell) about something.

“Cute boy! In potential danger! Leaving now!” Were the only things to come out of the child's mouth before he rocketed out the front door and onto the street leaving behind a stunned Dabi and Aizawa.

When Izuku had initially seen a flash of purple crossing the street he wasn’t nearly as interested as he should’ve been. He’d continued to contemplate the meaning of his life until that flash happened again and Izuku refocused on whoever was running around the sidewalk right by the apartment into the alleyway. Opening the window and leaning out he was immediately glad that he’d been curious because what he saw he didn’t like. 

A boy with the most lavender hair he’d ever seen was being slammed into a wall repeatedly by people who looked both bigger and older than him. He had a nose bleed and looked about ready to pass out. Izuku’s shoulders dropped as his eyes made eye contact with the victim’s frightened ones. Immediately a feeling of understanding ripped through him causing his eyes to narrow and his jaw to set. He nodded once, hoping to convey the fact that Izuku would be there soon.

He raced out of his room, slamming the door in the process as he pulled on his gloves and coat, only to ram straight into Dabi which sent them both tumbling down. He was just managing to get up when he accidentally elbowed Dabi’s mouth shut as Dabi muttered a cut-off ‘shit’. He had absolutely no way to convey what was going on without being late to help the kid, so he explained as succinctly as possible with a few extra words that with the panic he was in, let slip.

“Cute Boy! (Shit, while it was true, that was not what he wanted to say) In potential danger! Leaving now!” In all a successful mission report that hopefully would explain the necessary things. (And a bit more, unfortunately)

So, he was off like a dart again, ripping open the door and onto the balcony that connected all the apartments. Deciding as quickly as he could, he leaped over the edge and used the skills he’d gained from escaping foster homes, and descended with ease onto the sidewalk. He burst past a young woman who chuckled lightly. 

He curved around the building and right around to the kids who had backed the purple-haired teen into a corner. Feeling a mild rage build up within him, Izuku went after these kids' heads. They’d be lucky to make it out of this fight awake. 

Hitoshi’s day hadn’t exactly been going well, one could say. It started like normal, leaving his foster parents behind and trudging to school. He’d endured the normal taunts and jeers with melancholy acceptance. He’d understood when the teachers didn’t speak at all to him, not even questioning the bruises that he hadn’t had the day before or the day before that. So yeah, normal.

Then, someone had to open their mouths to the seniors, had to backtalk them, had to speak. (After all, don’t you know the rule of speaking when spoken to?) And things went downhill from there. They’d then wrecked some crap and then blamed it on Hitoshi (Who’d made them do it, teacher ). Of course, the principal had believed them, and he’d been sent home early for his parents to decide what to do with him. Not that his foster parents would notice unless they were called.

So he’d wandered around town and around the nicer apartments and eventually landed at staring at a kid with the greenest eyes he’d ever seen. His little gay heart had been a pitter-pattering so much that he’d forgotten Muranaka lived there. This was unfortunate because school had finally ended which meant that there, a block away was Muranaka walking home. Hitoshi made an attempt to hide in the alleyway but it was no use, he’d been spotted and the beat down came to fruition.

“What makes you think you can stare into my neighbor’s apartment like a creep?” Muranaka was sneering as he pounded into Hitoshi’s face. 

“Maybe” One of the lackeys was cut off by literally crumpling to the ground in a heap of limbs.

Behind him stood the kid that Hisothi had been staring at. His eyes were alight with a toxic glint as his neon pink and yellow jacket blew back from the speed he’s been moving at. He’d pulled one glove off and was pulling his hand back when the second of the three lackeys swung at the kid. Dropping below the lackey's blow, the green-haired kid swept between his legs and with a bare hand, touched the skin right between the top of the shoe and jeans. Launching right back up, he nailed the third lackey with an uppercut. Both immediately dropped and the kid looked at the final person, Muranaka, with a sharp glare.

“So, hard way or easy way?” He asked voice muffled by the black mask that covered his lower face.

Muranaka’s knees gave out causing him to crash to the ground right around the time that a scruffy looking black-haired man rounded a corner and said: “Midoryia, we really need to talk about unauthorized quirk use.”

The kid, Midoryia, if the man was to be believed, simply shrugged and tapped Muranaka on the head. Muranaka’s, who was already seemingly close to fainting, eyes rolled back up into his head and he too fell backward as the kid pulled back on a glove. After that, Midoryia moved forward and crouched in front of Hitoshi. He watched as Midoriya’s black leggings crinkled and the neon green shorts he was wearing rode up when he looked Hitoshi over. Hitoshi also noticed that the bright child who was scrutinizing him looked just as tired as he was, according to the bags under his eyes.

“So purple child, bullies suck huh?” He pulled down the face mask to reveal a tired but genuine smile.

Chapter Text

Hitoshi would like to say that his response to this literal angel was something coherent, but that would be a lie and Hitoshi is many things, but a liar isn’t one. The kid kneeling in front of him was in every way the pinnacle of what attracted Hitoshi to men, unfortunately. So, instead of being able to speak words , Hitoshi was stuck looking like a floundering fish while he tried to process past the word ‘hot’.

“Hey, ‘Zuku,” A rough voice jolted Hitoshi out of his reverence and he was suddenly looking at another relatively attractive asshole with scar tissue and staples lining his face, eyes, ears, and hands standing at the end of the tiny alleyway. Hitoshi was either a very lucky young man to find this many good looking people in the same spot or God hated him and wished for him to die by bursting blood vessels in his face. “Go easy on the kid. You forget that beyond looking like you need some damn sleep you’re attractive to some people.” The older man paused again and then grinned as he pointed at himself and spoke again. “Those people happen to have very bad taste, but who am I to judge?”

“I will slaughter your entire family Dabi,” Midoryia’s eyes narrowed at the taller man, now known to be Dabi. 

“First, I’m fine with that, just start with my old man and leave out the youngest. Second, I’m only eight years older than you, moron,” Dabi began walking over to where Hitoshi and Midoriya were sitting and crouched, respectively. He gave Hitoshi a once over and then nodded back to the scruffy looking hobo person behind them who took a deep breath and began to speak. 

“Okay Problem Child, we’re going to bring in your stray person, get him cleaned up, give him some food, since he looks like a stick on legs, and then send him home ,” The hobo was pinching the bridge of his nose and looking like he wanted nothing more than to go back inside and pretend this never happened. “Now, I’m going to have to file a report about this (Hitoshi flinched, that wasn’t going to go over well with anyone ) on top of reporting back to Tsukauchi about you two. He’s been sending me texts about the ‘fugitives’ I’m harboring, all night and day.”

“Then do we need to keep him long enough to get a statement? ‘Cause this is definitely assault, and although I’m no expert on reporting shit (Dabi paused gave a light laugh here) like you are, that seems to be a common thing,” Dabi spoke looking mildly out of his depth. (Hitoshi could respect that, this too was his first time having an incident reported. Most people just walked by, but then again, Hitoshi got the feeling this hobo wasn’t just ‘most people’)

“Definitely, also we’re going to need a name. I can’t just keep calling you purple like Izuku in front of you.” The hobo seemed to realize at that moment that he hadn’t told Hitoshi his name either, and with what seemed to be a slightly sheepish tone gave his. “Mine’s Aizawa by the way. Midoriya, you’ve got it from here?”

Midoriya nodded once to him and then turned to Hitoshi who was still trying to find the right words to articulate his thankfulness. Finding nothing (And since his brain hadn’t finished processing the situation), he settled on accepting the hand offered to him and settled on a few simple words. 

“Thanks, It’s Shinsou Hitoshi,”

And with that, Midoryia gave a small smile that seemed to light up the world and spoke one final time before dragging him off.

“Hi, I’m Midoriya Izuku. Oh! Remember to mind the gloves!”

Okay, in all honesty Prisoner Zero hadn’t thought that a pro hero could be that dumb. Especially one that could turn quirks off and on. He had to have noticed something was up with that kid, beyond the, y’know, obvious years of trauma related to the child’s quirk. Yet, as the child, Izuku Midoriya himself, walks back into the apartment, the rest of the clown crew trailing behind, Aizawa shows no signs of any intelligence. 

Zero was disgusted, astonished, but above all else baffled. How does one man, who can literally feel quirk factors in order to turn them off. Not notice something like that . It was obvious, in the dull eyes, the way the kid’s hair seemed to never glisten no matter what you put in it to make it so. Still though, absolutely no comprehension. 

Shaking their head they went back to moving boxes into their apartment. It wouldn’t matter anyway. The truth would be revealed and the entire fucking problem would resolve itself when it was.

However it still bothered Zero, to be that close to Midoriya. That poor kid had absolutely no idea what was coming, and of course, unless they wanted to blow their cover so hard that it would be visible from space, they couldn’t tell him.

It sucked, but Zero had to keep moving, had to keep going. After all Kana Kawasaki was one of the only people who knew that HE was still alive.

Well, Aizawa thought, that certainly wasn’t what (or who) he expected, but Kana Kawasaki seemed nice enough. Maybe she'd even help with the noise from the floor below them on Saturdays.

Chapter Text

Izuku was worried. 

From the minute he’d met Shinsou, he’d known that this kid was different than him. Not in the sense that Shinsou had a home or whatever, but more in the vague idea of not having any support system whatsoever (At least Izuku had had Dabi for these past few years and was joined by Yamada and Aizawa). It was in the way Shinsou talked and walked, the way that he flinched at nearly every turn into the apartment and blatantly ignored every attempt to get him to talk. (This would have to be a conversation for later though)

Carefully, he slid his gaze over to Dabi who was seemingly just as worried about Shinsou if the glances he sent the kid's way were anything to go by. It was an unsure situation for sure, but he at least wanted to make sure Shinsou was okay before sending him back to whatever hellhole he was sure to be in before this. After all, bruises that yellow doesn’t appear in a single day.

“Alright problem children plus the one, I’m going to grab the first aid kit and we’re going to repair that split lip.” Aizawa motioned for them to sit down on the sofa as he walked down the hall.

“So,” Dabi was always the best at starting conversations between the two of them, and hopefully, this would still hold true now. Most of Izuku’s attempts (especially in front of attractive people) ended up being a slew of words that sounded like when a computer blue screened. “Why were those asshats so determined to turn your face into a splatter on the concrete?”

Izuku craved death right now. Dabi! You can’t just ask people that! It! May! Be! Personal!

“Uhh,” Shinsou looked at the door (the closest exit to this conversation) like he was going to bolt at any moment (Something Izuku may join him because apparently Dabi’s communication skills only worked under extraneous circumstances. Ie, The Streets). “My quirk’s not exactly favorable .” 

“Neither’s mine,” Dabi shrugged, letting the conversation fade into one of the most awkward silences in existence and then looked to Izuku hopefully like he would be able to help. Seeing no aid and only a panicked gaze, Dabi made another attempt to goad the otherwise silent Shinsou into speaking. “So uh,”

Thankfully any further attempts to beat that dead horse was halted by the timely entrance of Aizawa. Izuku would’ve gotten down on his hands and knees praising the exalted man if he knew that doing so would’ve gotten him a boot to the face. Dabi’s face, once contorted with general horror now relieved itself from its post to go to neutral relaxation. 

“Okay, it was Shinsou, right?” Shinsou nodded slightly confirming his name and Izuku watched a slight smile appear on Aizawa’s face. “I’m going to have to clean up that lip, then we’re going to deal with the black eye that you’re likely to have, got it?”

Shinsou nodded once in confirmation and just like that, Aizawa got to work on his face. It was a methodical process that, thankfully, required absolute silence and focus. This was something Izuku was good at, staring awkwardly into a void and only acknowledging the eldritch demons that weren’t hallucinations. Eventually, though, the peaceful quiet had to be broken by Aizawa asking questions that Izuku really did not want to ask.

“Alright kid, where do you live and what are your parent’s names?” Aizawa was now officially the bravest man Izuku knew. Able to destroy personal boundaries and awkward silences with a single glare that he was aiming right at Izuku because he’d said that out loud, didn’t he?

“Yes problem child, you did” Whatever Aizawa was about to say was cut off by the raucous laughter of Shinsou literally dying.

“Sweet Lord above what is that noise!” Dabi had flown from the seat of the chair, next to the couch, onto the top of it like the startled cat man that he was.

Shinsou was still continuing to die and Izuku was now on his feet, arms debating between covering his steadily reddening face or helping Shinsou not fall off the couch.  So, yeah, today was going just great . 

Dabi was going to have a stress aneurysm if this kept going on. ‘Zuku was now curled in on himself in a fit of rare embarrassment (Something that Dabi wasn’t sure that Izuku even had , but apparently only reared its ugly head when ‘cute boys’ were involved.) and Aizawa was desperately trying to keep Shinsou from undoing the hard work that he’d done on Shinsou’s face by holding the kid in place as he laughed the air out of his lungs in an attempt to suffocate. 

In all honesty, this was a hilarious situation that Dabi would’ve taken more advantage of if it didn’t look like Izuku was about to die. So, climbing down from his perch he made his way over to his brother who looked like he wished to crawl in a hole and die. 

“Hey ‘Zuku, it wasn’t that bad,” Dabi tried, he really did, but the look of absolute disbelief on his little brother’s face wasn’t reassuring him that he was believed.

“Shoot me, it might save me from later shame,” Izuku laughed nigh bitterly. “Spare me the rest of my dignity and pride, SMITE ME NOW COWARD!”

“Now, now,” Shinsou took a deep breath attempting to steady himself as Izuku’s head whipped towards the source of the voice. “Dabi’s right on this one. It wasn’t that bad, just funny. I’m sorry about laughing so hard, I didn’t expect that out of the boy who looks like something out of an arcade carpet ad.”

“Not that bad, think about my feelings.” Aizawa was standing now that the crisis was averted and gathering all of the medical supplies that he’d used. “However, the question still needs answering, where do you want me to drop you off? I can quickly write down your statement and give it to the police if need be as well if the police station isn’t on the way home.”

“That would be nice, thanks,” Shinsou paused. “I live just inside Musutafu’s limits, so any train station would be fine. I’ve got money.”

Aizawa nodded again and threw out all of the extra bandages in the kitchen trash can. Dabi was a little concerned about why a kid was so far from his house and at a school that he probably shouldn’t be in. Still, though, that wasn’t his place to question and so he wouldn’t. In the meantime, it was probably time to get Izuku off of the floor as he’d been staring at the ceiling for longer than was probably good for his mental health. 

So, Dabi did what any good older brother would do and kicked him.

“Asshole!” Izuku was up like a shot and in a defensive position. “What did you do that for?”

“Your boyfriend’s getting ready to leave. Might wanna say goodbye and get a phone number for when we get phones,” Dabi would enjoy teasing Izuku later, but for now, his point still stands, getting Shinsou’s phone number wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world. His Lil brother deserved someone as sleep-deprived as him.

“Not my boyfriend,” Izuku now glanced at Shinsou who was now as red as he was. “But I'll get the phone number.”

Dabi now took that as his leave and stepped back. He watched now as Shinsou gathered his own wits (which were still probably a bit smacked out of him) and gave Izuku a phone number. Dabi watched as Aizawa went to the door when a knock was heard and greeted the person on the other side. After that, Aizawa helped Shinsou collect his things and out their front door. Right as they were about to leave, Shinsou pulled himself together and flirted directly to Izuku’s face, much to Dabi’s eternal amusement. Finally, with a wave and a blow of a kiss they were out the door and to the police and train station.

Izuku, once his tiny monkey brain had finished processing what had just happened, went bright red for the second time today, screamed, and started blubbering. Dabi of course, being the bestest older brother in the world, laughed his ass off so hard that he fell down.

It was a good day, and Dabi was willing to bet things were only going to go up.

(Remember though, Dabi’s not a betting man)

Chapter Text

Izuku was practically vibrating through the armchair. He’d gotten a boy’s phone number! Now, granted he doesn’t have a phone, but that could easily be changed. Dabi looked relatively annoyed as Izuku bounced, but at the moment nothing could bring him down. It was cloud nine and he could see above the tallest of mountains with the high he was on.

“Are you sure you don’t use drugs?” Dabi crouched in front of Izuku and waved a hand in his face while looking mockingly concerned. “Because this seems like a hell of a high.”

“I don’t,” Izuku paused, and then sprung up like a jackrabbit with the brightest look ever. “But, I’m high on life right now!”

“I don’t think that’s a good substitute considering our luck,” Dabi grumbled as he shifted to sit down in front of the chair. 

Eventually, deciding that wasn’t enough, Dabi lied fully down and stared up at the ceiling. Now, if the look in his eyes was anything to go by, Dabi was beginning his daily existential crisis where he would attempt to figure out exactly how he got to this moment. Izuku, on the other hand, decided it wouldn’t be worth it to comment on that potential conversation starter (or attempt to head off the inevitable crisis), got up and moved to walk around the apartment. 

Izuku’s first stop was the kitchen that he’d never fully gotten to explore the night before. Inside he didn’t find anything really interesting. In one corner was the -Kiss the Cook- apron that Hizashi had worn on their first night in, and in the other sat more cabinets. So yeah, to the incredibly bored Izuku, there wasn’t much.

Next up was the hallway that happened to be lined with a shit-ton of pictures, likely taken by Yamada since Aizawa didn’t seem like the person who would let himself be photographed by anyone else. There were a few from high school with Midnight, Ingenium, and one other blue-white haired teen that Izuku couldn’t identify. There were more after that, but it was mostly just Aizawa deadpanning into a camera while Yamada looked incredibly excited about different landmarks. It was like watching a comedy duo form in real-time.

This went on for about another hour as Izuku searched every nook and corner possible until he found Aizawa’s magnum opus, the thing that Izuku would send someone to the shadow realm for. It was an industrial-sized sleeping bag. It was bright yellow. And it was perfect . 

That was how, an hour later, Aizawa found one Izuku Midoryia. Bundled up in the yellow bag, staring off into space and tapping out some tunes.

Shouta smiled softly at Shinsou as he dropped him at the station and watched the kid step on the train. Shinsou waved awkwardly (reasonably so since he had to have been saved by the weirder of the two children camping out in his apartment) and then turned back to his phone, plugging in headphones as he sped away.

The walk didn’t take quite as long as the stop at the police station, which wasn’t to say either was long. In the end, it had taken only a few questions for Tsukauchi to determine the validity and verity of the story. Although throughout the entire interview, the kid had seemed simply resigned. Not a good sign in Shouta’s opinion, but there wasn’t anything that he could do without probable cause and he couldn’t have Tsukauchi question the kid without being incredibly suspicious. This wasn’t something Shouta liked, but it was the law. 

Unfortunately

So, instead of worrying about something that he couldn’t control he decided to head back to the police station and drop Tsukauchi another line. This one would be about the two hobos who’d ditched living in cardboard boxes for living in a soundproofed cardboard box. 

It took longer to make the trip back because people wouldn’t stop being general nuisances. Said people couldn’t be bothered to move to one side when making important calls or calming their screaming child. If he hadn’t been so noble and kind , Shouta would’ve glared at the few people who rammed straight into him to death. So the short of that nightmare was that Shouta had multiple new reminders of why he worked at night. 

Finally, he’d reached the building that stuck out like a sore thumb in the otherwise mundane city block, the police station. The station was painted the brightest and most obnoxious blue that he’d ever seen with a giant (glowing, glittering, or whatever adjective you wanted to use in place) golden badge hanging from it. Then, to top off its ostentatiousness, it had the words police station written in the frilliest handwriting he’d ever seen. In all, it was a miserable mess that both underground heroes and many detectives had complained against. The filed reports ranging from the design being a crime against humanity to it just being tacky.

Grunting as he made his way in he prayed to whatever deity was out there that his already damaged retinas wouldn’t die on contact with this cartoonish looking building. The sliding doors whooshed open and Shouta made his way over to the front desk, which thankfully, was a normal beige. On his way there he got shot a few of those looks that generally held judgment over the fact that he tried his best to look homeless constantly. So nothing to worry about really.

“Hello!” The woman smiled, brown hair slipping a bit out of a frazzled bun. “How can I help you?”

“I’m looking for Tsukauchi again, I was here earlier but I wanted to brief him over something happening later.” Shouta leaned back on his heels and waited for the receptionist to call the detective over. 

“Ah, he’s right over there. I’ll just wave him over!” She grinned and straightened the name tag pinned to her sweater as she rolled her chair. True to her word, Tsukauchi was standing by a coffee machine looking just as dead inside as he normally did. The woman, Sanda Mitsuko, waved at the detective. “Mr.Tsukauchi, you have a visitor, I think he was here earlier with that purple-haired boy!”

Tsukauchi looked up, made eye contact with Shouta and then promptly ran a hand over his face. 

“Whatever god there may be must hate me because having you here more than once a day only bodes more paperwork for me,” He said dragging the cup that had #1 Detective written on it in neon sharpie over with him. 

“Well congrats because you get to suffer with me for a third time in a little while. The two kids I stole a night or so back need to come in.” 

“Great,” Tsukauchi stared directly into the void as Shouta continued to explain the situation.

Once Shouta had finished, he turned on his heel and walked right out before the detective could pour coffee right down his sweater for this new mess that they were in.

Izuku definitely didn’t try to escape three different times as they made their way downtown and he definitely did not get caught each of those three times in varying amounts of capture weapon, cloth, thing. Finally, he definitely wasn’t terrified of the police.

“Izuku you can’t keep doing this.” Even though Dabi looked about as ready to spill the beans as Izuku did, he hadn’t tried to make his way out of this death trap. He’d likely accepted his fate and was now attempting to get Izuku to do the same.

“I’ll do what I want when I want Dabi,” Izuku tried to keep cracking and shaking out of his voice but ultimately, Aizawa’s curious glance told him he’d failed.

It wasn’t like Izuku didn’t like the police. He understood why they were there, it was just his past few experiences that left him with a healthy respect for them. Especially after they put him in quirk suppressing shackles that were accidentally too tight and threw him a bit too rough into a holding cell that he was all too familiar with.

So yeah, forgive him if he wasn’t excited to meet someone who would determine if he would go to jail or not.

“Relax problem child, Tsukauchi is easily the most relaxed of all the police officers you’ll meet. He’s gonna give you a chance.” Aizawa kept walking ahead even though he’d just delved right into the heart of Izuku’s issues. Building’s passed and Izuku hoped that they’d get to the station soon or else he may actually start sharing things that he’s not yet mentally prepared to do.

“Aizawa, let a man have his unhealthy coping mechanisms and leave him in peace!” Izuku attempted to deflect the very pointed look he was getting from Dabi and the intrigued grunt he was getting from Aizawa.

It was at this time though that they made it to the garish building considered a police station. So, thankfully the conversation was cut short. Izuku was thanking his lucky stars and possibly the few deities that he knew of related to luck. However, this euphoria was quickly dashed by the sheer unattractive front of said building. In a fit of absolute rage and disappointment in the human race Izuku’s brain shut down in an attempt to get over its Looney Toons- acid trip love child aesthetic.

Aizawa, of course, seemed entertained by both of the boy’s reactions.

“What the everloving HELL is this place?” Dabi waved a hand in front of him and then looked to his younger brother to make sure that he hadn't been slipped any drugs.

“It’s like if anime and those neon ass cartoons went on an acid trip in front of a paint store.” Izuku paused and then with the most dramatic slow turn looked Aizawa dead in the eyes and in the most betrayed tone. “ Why?”

“None of us has figured it out yet if you somehow manage it, please tell us.” Aizawa chuckled and motioned for them to enter in through the sliding doors.

It was only then that Izuku noticed he’d relaxed. Perhaps that was the function of the station. To catch you so off guard that you loosen up and can answer things better. At least that was the only excuse for that crime against everything living.

Dabi entered after Aizawa and they looked around the inside. It seemed to be a relatively normal station, which did nothing for the still grimacing Izuku. After Aizawa got the receptionist's attention, which seemed everywhere but where it was supposed to be, they sat down and waited for the miserable interrogation.

Izuku bit the inside of his cheek as he attempted to calm down. His leg bounced up and down, but the only thing he could think of was bodies hitting the floor, hideous screaming, and the cackling of something demonic. His panic only escalated from there. 

He could hear the ticking of the clock over twenty feet away, he could hear Dabis ragged breathing that was caused by inhaling the smoke from his quirk.

 He could practically hear Aizawa’s blinking. 

It was miserable.

And annoying.

Taking a shaking breath he tried to breathe through the terror that threatened to consume him whole. 

The lights seemed to sway, but maybe that was his imagination.

 No wait, it couldn’t be, Dabi was looking at him. 

They were all looking at him, Aizawa was beginning to look concerned. 

Shadows seemed to drift and dance as the world started to tilt. Screaming, death, and doom became looming forces in the shadows that shifted.

Dabi, eyes still wide moved towards him, to hold and touch.

Aizawa snapped his eyes open and glared as Izuku began to scream a harmony with the demons surrounding him.

And so, Izuku for the first time since he was born, fell into a deep sleep.

Sanda Mitsuko chuckled as she watched the police station black out. This was an amusing turn of events. Phobos would be fascinated with the power this kid was generating even with that dumb quirk factor.

Chapter Text

“What the hell?” Were Dabi’s first words as the terror seeped out from his mind and Izuku’s head hit the floor with a grand thunk. Lights flickered back on as Izuku’s body dropped. “What the actual hell?” 

He paused again and looked at the room. He moved to and sat on the chairs they had just been in as he attempted to remove the sound of Izuku’s tortured screams from his mind where they echoed back and forth. They had sounded horrible, like someone who was burning alive (something Dabi knew very well) and the things that caused the blackout had screamed with him. Whether to terrify Izuku or the people about him was still unknown and Dabi wasn’t thrilled with the idea of finding out.

“Did you see that?” Tsukauchi cleared his throat and shook his head while blinking. “How could that possibly happen?”

“I did, and I think,” Aizawa paused as he took a breath running a hand through his hair shakily at the same time. If even the pro hero used to stressful situations was affected, something was wrong. “That was his quirk.”

“His quirk!” Tsukauchi rubbed the bridge of his nose and let out a slight huff. “His quirk managed to blackout the entire building and instill fear into everyone in it?”

Dabi, meanwhile, sat in silence, looking at the unconscious person in front of him in an attempt to reconcile that horror with the kid who was terrified of spiders and provoked yakuza for funsies. So, as the adults kept talking, trying to put their puzzle pieces in place, Dabi’s thoughts were organizing and painting a picture that he very much did not like. After all, he had a little more information than the two adults.

Dabi remembered that Izuku had said once, a long while back, that his parents had been terrified both for and of him. He’d said that being and acting normal was a balancing act and he often felt trapped in his skin. Of course, this was only after he’d been drunk on the feeling of being awake, so the verity of the statement could be called into question, but Izuku didn’t share much willingly (It had taken Dabi’s tragic backstory to get Izuku to even mention things from his past). Then came the admission of him technically (whatever that meant) killing his parents and now, this. Something about the way that Izuku acted carried a guilt beyond just “accidently” killing his parents. It was almost like-

“Oh, shit,” Dabi froze eyes widened, hand covering his mouth, and finally, the last pieces of this incredible and increasingly awful puzzle fit together. “Well, that explains a lot.” He continued dumbly, not entirely sure what to do with this very sensitive, personal, and mildly gruesome realization.

“What does,” Aizawa and Tsukauchi shared a look.

“I think I know what happened and I’m not sure if I’m happy about that or not.” Dabi placed a scarred face into his hands and let his hands run over the staples, feeling the cold metal and allowing the roughness to calm him enough for the following conversation. “But, if you want me to share, we’re going to need to go somewhere private for it.”

“That’s fair, besides, people are beginning to recover and they’re going to get nosey fast.” Tsukauchi nodded and motioned for Aizawa and Dabi to follow him back into the police station. 

Aizawa nodded back and Dabi stood up, popping his joints (And potentially a few staples) before he leaned down to scoop up ‘Zuku, a hand under his knees and one around his shoulders. Now, it wasn’t that Dabi didn’t trust Aizawa to get him, it was just he wanted Izuku close just in case he woke up soon and either needed a familiar face or familiar affection. Also, Dabi wasn’t thrilled with the idea of letting Izuku go so soon after a breakdown, and if he wanted some comfort himself, sue him. As soon as this was done though, Aizawa shot him a curious look, but quickly let it go. Obviously to the pro, today had already been weird enough. 

And with that, they set off.

On the way down the halls, Dabi debated on how much he wanted to tell them, both about his life and Izuku’s. It was a breach of his little brother’s privacy to tell them already, but it wasn’t as if Izuku wouldn’t have told them anyway. Dabi hopes at least since that’s why they were there in the first place. (Even if Izuku did try to run away the first few times, he did resign himself to sitting and waiting). Dabi was willing to share about his past (even if a few years ago he would’ve scoffed at the idea), although, even with the detective's quirk, it wasn’t like there was much that they could do. His father was simply too influential for words and accusations to affect.

As they got farther back into the station, Dabi wondered where they were going. The interrogation rooms had long since been passed by meaning they weren’t going there as Dabi expected. Glancing about with vaguely concealed suspicion Dabi attempted to figure out their new destination, or if Tsukauchi never planned on questioning them in one. 

It wasn’t difficult to discern their new location because, within seconds of Dabi’s searching, they reached the officer’s quarters. Officer’s quarters were a recent addition to police, firefighters, and other public official's offices. Due to a study done by many different research companies over the years, it was found that in the new era of quirks, officers of all kinds ended up doing more over time and so they’d require a place to stay for those who didn’t wish to go home. It had been frowned upon, many saying that it would only give some people more reasons to avoid their family, but it had eventually been accepted to the point that even hero offices tended to add them to their agencies. Dabi was surprised he remembered most of this since it had been years since he’d even attended school, but as was the mind, it retained the stupidest of shit. Then again, with his father’s working habits, it wasn’t that much of a surprise since his father had used them before on long missions.

“Alright,” Tsukauchi started to speak as he moved them into a small side room that had been labeled with his name. “Dabi, you can put Midoryia here and then we can begin.”

Dabi nodded and once he’d managed to get the kid into a position that he was sure wouldn’t damage anything as he slept (Gods above that was a weird thing to say after years of never seeing the kid even take a cat nap) Dabi sat down on the side of the bed ran a soothing hand through Izuku’s hair and braced himself for his inevitable doom.

“We’ll start with you first, just in case Midoriya wakes up and can talk to us.” Tsukachi pulled out a pen and a recording device that lit up red as it turned on. “This is detective Tsukauchi Naomasa with underground hero Aizawa Shouta. This interrogation of one,” Tsukauchi paused and looked at Dabi, which signaled that he wanted a real name, not the one that he’d given Aizawa. 

Dabi knew that he couldn’t worm his way out of this one now even if he wanted to. They needed a name, and even though Dabi hated it (and himself), he loved Izuku more. He’d grown way too attached for a man who’s original goal when setting out on the streets was to separate from attachments and never have them again. Irony, yay~!

“Todoroki Touya,” Dabi sighed and buried his face in his hands to avoid the glare and scorching looks that he could feel from both men. 

“You, you’re Endeavor’s missing son ?” Tsukauchi’s voice had risen a few octaves and was now bordering on worryingly high. 

“What, your quirk can’t tell?” Dabi snarled, this wasn’t something he wanted to be questioned on and he would rather be doing pretty much anything else. 

“No, no,” Tsukauchi paused and when Dabi looked up, he saw that the detective was closing his eyes and taking deep breaths. “That was unprofessional of me, I’m sorry.”

“I get it, it’s weird.” Dabi leaned on the footboard at the bottom of the bed and began picking at a staple along his hand. “I guess you probably want to know why I’m here?”

“That would be nice,” Aizawa’s voice was tinged with a hint of sarcasm to which Dabi just sneered a little.

“Fine,” Dabi took a deep breath and began telling the tale of Endeavor’s eldest son. 

It wasn’t a happy tale, filled with harsh training that bordered on one-sided beatdowns. Sure Touya managed to get a hit in here or there, but it was only because his flames were so hot they’d surprise the man with heat resistance (not immunity). His mother tried, bless her, but standing up to someone like Todoroki Enji wasn’t an easy task, especially when she would be yelled at by a hurricane after an attempt and alas, burns started to build. 

At first, they weren’t that bad. They were tiny red marks that were easily explained by having a winter like constitution to fire and standing too close to his father. But then, as the years went on and he grew older, the training became actual beatings. The scars built and built and built becoming purple and necrotic. It was awful and Touya only felt pain every day. They took him from to doctor to doctor who only said that they could do skin grafts, but even then it wouldn’t help much in face of the damage he got from “playing” with his quirk (Dabi suspected that they knew about what was going on, or at least had seen something similar before, but were too afraid of the towering man in front of them to say something).

Then Shoto had come along and Enji had been ecstatic. Here was the golden child that looked like he would be the perfect masterpiece in comparison to the others who were nothing but failures. Touya, on the other hand, had been horrified. Mother was fading, Natsuo and Fuyumi couldn’t be counted on to step in, they were too young, which meant that it fell to him to protect Shoto when mom couldn’t. 

Finally, Shoto turned four, and his quirk had manifested, causing things to twist and warp into something Touya wouldn’t have wished on anyone. Shoto had turned four and was a human punching bag for a man nearly twelve times his age (Dabi had to pause and collect himself before he burnt the police station down in second-hand rage). Touya had been cast away as an abomination who shouldn’t be worried about things like being a hero when he would only hurt himself. Shoto would now be the one to come crawling out of the training room broken, beaten, and bruised.

So, in retaliation, Touya drew attention. He pierced his ears and banged pots and pans together, he would walk into the training room during a session and just glare until his father was forced to turn to him and focus on his eldest. He flaunted his scars, scrapes, and bruises at school causing calls to come in from the school about his home life. He was a nuisance until mom could escape the room with Shoto, locking themselves in a bedroom to heal wounds that would never really disappear. 

In the dead of night, Touya would hate that mom turned her attention to the youngest and would sometimes feel a jealousy wind itself thick around his throat and strangle him. He would be consumed in the dead of night with a feeling that made him want to see if he could injure himself enough to get mother’s attention again. In the dead of night, he would walk towards Shoto’s room and remind himself why he was doing this all. 

Then, it happened. Touya had been interrupting a training session after Shoto’s scarring occurred and their mother was shipped off to the highest security (and most secretive) mental hospital when his father had become furious. His booming voice accused Touya of sabotaging Enji and Shoto’s dream, to which Touya had sarcastically snapped back about Shoto being six and simply dreaming of seeing tomorrow. This was what set his father off. 

For the first time in years, his father subjected him to a beating so brutal his quirk set itself off in self-defense. Blue had sparked off of the walls. Blue had consumed Touya’s vision. Blue was the world he’d been surrounded in when it turned to black. The next thing he remembered was waking up in the hospital with the TV on letting the world know of Todoroki Touya’s unfortunate end. From there he let his old self die away and was consumed on his quest for vengeance.

“So yeah, my sperm donor faked my death and was going to throw me in one of those really nice quirk hospitals so that they could fix me.” Dabi let loose a shaky breath and closed his eyes, praying that everything read true to that detective. “But thankfully, I’m here now!”

“That's,” Tsukauchi shook his head and looked like he needed an espresso, or five. “A lot. That’s a lot to take in, Todor”

“Don’t, Touya burned down when the training room did,” This was why Dabi did not want to share this. He’d either be shipped back to Endeavor first class, or he’d get some major pity. 

“Well kid,” Aizawa opened his eyes from when he’d closed them about the time Dabi mentioned his little rebellions. “I’m sure you don’t want any condolences or whatever, but I’m going to say this once. You did well. You did what you could and made sure your family had what little protection it could get. That takes some major bravery. I know some heroes who would piss themselves standing in the mere presence of the number two, let alone be able to look him the eye and snap back.”

“Thanks,” Dabi was now in some majorly weird territory. He hadn’t expected anyone to understand, let alone congratulate him. “I guess,”

“Well, I think we should continue.” Tsukauchi had now recovered from his shock at, well, pretty much everything, Dabi guessed. He turned off the recording device and the detective rolled his neck. “I’m not going to record your theory on Midoriya there because I don’t want to have it if it contradicts reality.”

Aizawa winced as he rolled a stiff shoulder and then nodded. “I agree, but we can take time if you need it beforehand. That was emotional information you dumped on us. We’d understand if you weren’t ready to share anything else.”

Dabi grimaced himself, unsure about a continuation of this conversation. “ My emotional health isn’t what I’m worried about.”

Tsukauchi’s eyes narrowed and then looked at the teen that was sleeping seemingly peaceful on the bed in front of them. “Understandable, but we do need something here. This was a police station incident. I can’t go tell the boss ‘I don’t know’, unfortunately.”

“Got it,” Dabi paused considering what he should share. “I think I can at least talk about his quirk since I’ve got a good idea of what it is now.”

Aizawa sat back down and nodded. 

“So, ‘Zuku told me a while back that his quirk worked less on the feeling of being tired and more on the actual chemicals in your head. Which, I thought was weird for a quirk that just transfers straight sleep, but accepted it pretty easily. It’s a quirk, we’ve all seen stranger things.” Dabi licks his lips and breathes deeply as he shrugs, attempting to collect the straggling thoughts. “So, due to an incident in the past ‘Zuku carries some major guilt that leads to him doing odd shit that he’ll have to tell you about. I always thought that the incident was awful, but not bad enough for him to pull the thing that caused him to meet me. However, after seeing today, I’m pretty sure I know why it’s there.”

“Okay,” Tsukauchi very obviously wanted Dabi to expand on the incident, but that was Izuku’s place, not his. So, Dabi did what he does best and ignored him. 

“So, chemicals in the head right, we all feel tired right now,” A chorus of nods from the hero and detective. “Alright, we probably weren’t this exhausted before, but we heard the things that manifested and then Aizawa shut Izuku down.” Another round of nods as Dabi prepared to launch into the meat of this issue. “My theory is that Izuku can manipulate the fears that we have in a sense of sleep paralysis. If he touches people, he can do two things, either cause their fear to manifest by making them exhausted or he can transfer that exhaustion. The latter was likely due to repression from the incident when he was younger.”

The room stilled as Dabi and the others remembered the screeching from that afternoon. Personally, Dabi remembered seeing the flickering flames of the man that both terrified him and had his utter loathing. 

“So he can just rip fears from our minds as long as we’re tired?” Aizawa was trying to simplify that tangent.

“Basically,” Dabi grinned and felt slightly smug at all of this. For some reason.

“I’m going to need more coffee for this bullshit,” Tsukauchi finally spoke up from where he’d placed his head very gently on the table wanting all of this to just go away. 

“Trust me, you’re going to need more than coffee after Izuku wakes up.” Dabi now found the reason that he was smug. “I think this is the first time he’s ever been unconscious. Which means he’s never woken up before. This is going to be so much fun.” 

Dabi cackled at the dawning horror on the two men’s faces that made the emotional turmoil he’d had before worth it.

Chapter Text

Izuku woke floating. 

His eyelids fluttered and made a desperate attempt not to reveal his surroundings to him, but it was doomed to fail. Thus, he was forced to slowly take in his environment as everything in his body rebelled. 

The first two things that he noticed were that he was engulfed in a purple smoke that seemed to be the only source of light and everything else was pitch black. The glow lit up his body which was lying prone in a single position. He couldn’t tell if he was facing up or if he was facing down. Nothing marked anything and if Izuku thought about this any longer he was going to go insane. 

So, instead of overthinking his current position, he moved. He kicked towards his face and his body moved, but nothing changed. The view wasn’t different, the smoke simply wove itself around his body, and it was anxiety inducing. It made him want to cry out again and again. 

So he did.

He screamed, and it was all consuming. 

The void swirled and the purple smoke withered and writhed in place around his legs and arms as they shot out at all angles in a futile attempt to get something to happen. Nothing did, and so his voice went hoarse.

But he took a deep breath and began again. Maybe it was useless, maybe it would fail, yet he still had to do something, make something move, or else he would fall to the ringing emptiness that was either around him or in his head. (He really couldn’t tell anymore)

Still, he should’ve been careful what he wished for.

In a bright flash of light something entered into Izuku’s personal hell.

It was a woman in her mid twenties or early thirties, navy blue hair hung from her head like a halo, swirling around her. She was looking out into the abyss, and was also covered in the vining smoke that cast odd shadows over her form with its purple glow when Izuku’s desperate, clawing screeches reached her. 

Her head slowly turned towards the petrified boy in the way that rusted animatronics did, jerky and unbelieving. Her violet eyes twitched, and widened, an incredulous look flashing over her face as she studied him up and down. She opened her mouth to speak but the only sound that came out was a horrible screaming.

Izuku was terrified, but it seemed that the woman was just as shocked. She quickly shut her mouth and made an awkward shrugging motion, grinning slightly when Izuku himself stopped screaming. 

However, as suddenly as she appeared, the smoke began to consume her whole, crawling over her, strangling her, entering every open surface, until she was engulfed fully. Her final words reaching his ears as the world's faintest whisper.

“See you soon kiddo,”

After calming himself down and allowing his narrowed, panicked vision to widen, Izuku was finally able to take a good look around the new place that he was in. He was also able to process that this was the first time that he’d slept in a very, very long time. It was weird, but that paled in comparison to the hell vision he literally just had. 

He was on a single bed with Dabi (Thank whatever deity was out there. He wasn’t sure that he could wake up and stare straight into Aizawa’s eyes. They looked too similar to the woman’s.) and to his right was a large oak desk that Tsukauchi and Aizawa sat at, illuminated by a tiny lamp to their left. 

“‘Zuku, you okay there buddy?” Dabi’s turquoise eyes held an inquisitive gaze that burrowed into Izuku’s skin as the older man made an attempt to assess the situation. 

“Fine, I think.” Izuku paused and raised gloved hands to his temples in order to mitigate the damage the oncoming headache would cause. “Just, a bad dream I guess. Haven’t really had one before so I wouldn’t know.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Dabi moved slowly across the sheets and laid a comforting hand on Izuku’s back. He scratched between Izuku’s shoulder blades and held his younger brother close. Pointing over his shoulder with a calloused thumb, Dabi continued to speak, “Cause that can help. I talked to these assholes about my living nightmare and I feel better already. They can take anything, have some confidence.”

Izuku slowly looked up and saw that Aizawa had set his head in his hands, scrubbing at the sleep that radiated from every pore of his body, but specifically, his eyes and Tsukauchi was chugging down what looked like black sludge with the desperation of a man who needed water in the desert. It was a scene that certainly inspired something. Although that something was definitely not confidence. 

“Okay, so maybe we give them a bit to emotionally recover,” Dabi’s head sunk a little and his mouth twisted as one lip lifted and his bottom teeth showed. “But, once they’ve gotten some, uhh, mental health points back we can lay it on them!” Dabi’s voice cracked a little on that last word. 

Izuku was now torn between laughing hysterically or just laying back on the bed after knocking his older brother out. This was not the conversation to be had on low "mental health points" as Dabi had so eloquently stated.

“It’s fine,” Aizawa lifted his head from his hands and took a moment to look at Izuku, scrutinizing either his will to listen to another tragedy or Izuku’s ability to tell it. One way or another it was terrifying and was not something Izuku felt like dealing with now. “I would rather it be up to the person telling it. Not the people hearing it. I’ve probably heard worse.”

Izuku sighed and leaned into Dabi’s shoulder in an attempt to hide his face. The thought of even thinking about the incident tore him apart. It ate his heart and spat it back out claiming indigestion. To the person that said time heals all wounds, Izuku would like to see if time will be able to heal their wounds once he gets his hands on them. 

“It’s okay,” Dabi turned his body now, allowing Izuku’s face to rest on his chest, the rough material of Yamada’s old shirt grounding Izuku as he tried to control his fear. Dabi ran a soothing hand through Izuku’s hair and rested his chin on the crown of Izuku’s head. (Aizawa watched on, a soft light radiating from his eyes. Tsukauchi smiled lightly at this sight.)“I know it's hard. I know you don’t want to do it. I get that you’re probably not ready, and it’s likely you won’t be for a while, but at this point, we can’t avoid it. If it helps, talk to me and they’ll listen. Just look at me. I’m here. I’ll always be there to pick up the pieces. I won’t run away if you break.”

Izuku lifted his head and looked at Dabi. This was the man that had taken him off of the streets. This was the man who somehow stopped him from wondering if he would ever be able to rest because speaking and being with Dabi felt like rest. Yes, they argued. Yeah, they made mistakes, but when it came down to it, this was the person that saw Izuku bleeding out on his couch due to a stupid mistake, and instead of asking questions or throwing him out, patched him up and took him under his wing. 

Dabi was right, no matter how afraid and broken Izuku was, if he shattered, Dabi would be there to tape and glue and put him together over and over again. This was his older brother in everything but blood and he was allowing Izuku to jump right down into a safety net that he prepared especially for him.

So, Izuku gathered his courage and took a leap of faith.

“This story isn't a happy one as you’d expect,” He began, looking right at Dabi, counting staples and layers of dead skin to prevent his mind from wandering. “I’ll start from the beginning, and get you to where I ended up a few years ago. I’m not going to spill all of my baggage. That’s for level nine friendship people,” Izuku attempted to joke to distract him from what he was about to reveal.

It had taken Dabi nearly five years from when he met the seven-year-old Izuku to get this out of him. So forgive him if telling this story again was a little uncomfortable especially with two people that he just met listening in.

“Now, let's get this shit show started,”

Izuku began his story with his birth. Doctors were initially confused as to why this newborn didn’t scream, didn’t sleep, and barely cried and as such, they conducted many tests. Eventually, it was discovered that he had a from birth quirk; it was one that prevented him from sleeping and explained a lot of his issues as an infant (Here Izuku paused to explain that forcing people to sleep was instinctive and intent-driven, so as a baby he didn’t fell his parents out of self-preservation). However, there was something that the doctors found odd, Izuku didn’t have the proper quirk factor. This meant that he should have been quirkless, not quirked.

This raised questions and so Hisashi Midoryia, Izuku’s father, began to investigate everything he could get his hands on, from his ancestors' hundreds of years old to Inko’s, looking for a mutation or something that could explain why Izuku had such an odd quirk. When he found nothing there, Hisashi moved onto his wife’s movements, trying to figure out if there was an affair. With that development, arguments would happen at increasingly frequent intervals. Hisashi claimed an affair (paternity tests yielded no results, the DNA always seeming to read inconclusive), Inko would deny this and claim it was a mutation, but Hisashi never believed her words. 

Little five-year-old Izuku would remain oblivious to these heated screaming matches that occurred long past when he shuffled into his room to give his parents privacy so they could sleep, until one night.

The fateful night.

It was storming hard. Rain pounded relentlessly against the window covered with All Might curtains. Izuku was up late, trying to finish a hero analysis entry when he heard the thud. 

It was a soft one, nearly mistaken for a branch of the tree outside slamming against the house, but eventually worth investigating when he heard raised voices.

 The voices sounded like mom and dad, but they should be asleep. He saw them walk into their bedroom and Izuku didn’t hear the door open. However, Izuku did have a habit of getting so immersed into what he was working on that he forgot himself and other people, thus his memory wasn’t something he should rely on. 

Quietly, Izuku crept down the hall to the kitchen. Lights flickering as the storm made its attempts to knock out the power. 

There! Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted shadows. Ones that shifted and moved and looked like real people. 

Mom and Dad were in the kitchen, dad was standing, hovering over mom who had fallen with her back to a cabinet. Smoke poured from his father's mouth while a single cup floated in the center of the room.

“Inko!” His father roared and Izuku reared back. His dad never yelled that loud. He was always kind and gentle and gave him his most favorite All Might action figure. “You can’t keep denying it. No mutation that we know of has ever been this extreme! You have to be lying. There’s not any other explanation! Especially when the doctor’s checked and his quirk factor is similar to that of a quirkless person”

“Hisashi!” Inko sounded like something between a mouse and a lion. As a young child, Izuku thought she was helpless, but as Izuku reflects on it now, he swore that he could hear something in her voice that was a warning, but a warning for what Izuku would never find out. “I swear, you’re the only one! I would never!”

Izuku hid behind a wall, cowering with a hand over his mouth to stop the breaths that hammered against his lungs. Adrenaline pumped through his veins like gas through a car, pumping him up with the need to run, but nowhere to go. It was terrifying. 

They kept yelling and yelling and eventually all noise stopped. 

Lightning flashed and the lights went out.

Izuku peaked around the corner.

A flash of bright light illuminated the kitchen.

Inko Midoryia stood above Hisashi Midoryia, knife levitating a few feet away.

Red painted the walls, splashed and scattered everywhere.

Izuku screamed and reached out. 

He ran panting to his father’s side.

Red, red was everywhere.

Izuku looked up.

Green eyes, lit with a terrified yet somehow satisfied glow looked down on him.

A stutter of ‘mom’.

A response of ‘oh baby, you shouldn’t have seen that I’m so sorry’.

A hand reaching down

                                Down

                                         Down

                                                   Down.

A question of ‘WHY’

And then, all black and red and purple.

Haunting, withering screams sounded from every corner. Inko Midoryia’s eyes widened. Izuku reached out to bat away her hand. 

Once skin contact was made, shadows flashed and grew.

They loomed over the three people.

One dead, one alive, and one soon to be the other.

Shadows smirked and slithered, up and down walls until they took the shape of one man. A man only one of the people who were listening to the story knew.

Inko’s lungs gave out as the shadows reached towards her.

Inko died.

Izuku took a deep breath and sighed. “After that, I was stuck in the house for three days before I could make myself leave. I made my way onto the streets and a week later the whole incident was put on TV. People didn’t know what happened, but it was eventually labeled as a freak home invasion and I was labeled missing. It eventually settled down and no one has mentioned me since,”

Izuku had kept his eyes on Dabi the entire time. Occasionally he would address a question asked by one of the two others in the room, but he mainly ignored them. Izuku would squeeze Dabi’s hand when he got uncomfortable and Dabi would always squeeze back, attempting to help him remember where and who he was.

When he’d gotten to the end, Dabi had yanked him hard into his chest. Holding him tight, Dabi whispered into Izuku’s hair, “Good job kid, it was hard, but you did it. Now, rest, I’ll deal with them from here on out,”

Nodding into Dabi’s borrowed shirt, Izuku let himself drift off into a world of cloudy happiness that even he couldn’t fully describe.

Chapter Text

Shouta watched as Midoriya finished his story and then drifted off into what might be labeled sleep by the average person looking in, but was, in actuality, what a therapist and a few psychologists would call dissociation. Once Midoriya seemed to be fully ‘dozing off’ Dabi sat his head on Izukus and then turned to the two adults in the room, a question playing off of charred lips.

“So?” Dabis eyebrow popped up, nearly into his hair-line, and stayed there, judging Shouta for something that only the man in charge of it may know. It would have looked somewhat intimidating, but the effect was ruined by the actual child wrapped up in Dabis arms. 

“So,” Tsukauchi spoke and Shouta looked over to see the man rubbing furiously at his temples like if he hit the right spot all of this would just go away . News flash, it wouldn’t, Shouta had tried. And failed. Multiple times. “I remember that case, but more specifically, I remember the headache that it caused. The chief will be happy it’s solved.” He gave a slight reassuring smile to the two.

Dabi nodded once and then went back petting Izuku's hair gently. “And us?” Tsukauchi turned to Shouta with an expectant look as Dabi voiced the question he’d had since the beginning of this mess.

Shouta sighed and leaned his head back, straightened his spine, and looked at two kids (If Dabi, a man in his twenties, could even be called that). He doesn’t want to just leave them, which means that he’s going to have to take responsibility for them. Izuku had proven in the one to two years that he’d been in foster homes (the records were incomplete, either due to negligence or purposeful editing), that no one would be able to handle him nor want him (No one reported the missing kid, and as far as the system knew? He was still at the last house he ran from, even though it was now condemned). 

Dabi may already be an independent, but from his story, he’d never had a place to come back to. He’d never had a place to come home to that wouldn’t hold him to impossibly high standards over something he had no control over. Thus, it fell to Shouta of all people to do something about this.

“Okay, here’s how this is going to go,” Shouta paused, making sure that Dabi was able to rouse Izuku to listen. “Since I’m a prohero, there are laws that allow me to take kids out of bad situations and deal with them at my discretion. There are also laws that require you to have a guardian. So, I’m going to give you a couple of options. You can take any of them and I won’t judge you for it, understood?” Midoriya nodded slowly, dark green hair bobbing. 

“Okay, option one, I can get you and Dabi set up with an apartment. From there it would be up to Dabi to file for custody or something like that and take you in, Hizashi and I would be willing to house you until the time where Dabi could take you in. He would have to find a job and make sure that he could provide for you,” Midoriya looked up to his brother in silent conversation and then back to Shouta, waiting on the second choice. “Alright, option two is you can come with me. Due to a couple of incidents with foster children, I’m a registered foster parent, as is Hizashi. We already have jobs and a way to provide, so it would take less time for us to gain custody of you.”

“Do” Midoriya paused and blinked hard, in an attempt to clear his head. “Do you think I- we- could decide later? Does it have to be now?”

Shouta looked over to Tsukauchi who simply shook his head and gestured to the pile of papers on his desk. Shouta sighed and moved his gaze back to the child across from them. “Unfortunately, yes it does. I would love to give you both time, but it isn’t possible if we’re going to file the case. We’d have to place you into foster care otherwise.”

The light in Midoriya’s eyes faded slightly and Shouta felt horrible. He didn’t want to force them, but when Tsukauchi filed the case, there would be no doubt that Izuku would be taken. In fact, Midoriya had been lucky Shouta had been the one to find them in the first place, most of the other underground heroes didn’t have the soft spot for kids that he has, they would have arrested Dabi and dumped him right back into the system.

“Alright, just” Dabi let out a soft breath, and then raised a hand to pick at a staple near the corner of his mouth. “Can you give us a few minutes? A major change and all that.”

Shouta gave a sharp nod and then turned back to Tsukauchi to discuss details of the Midoriya family case. 

Dabi pet Izuku’s hair as he debated and analyzed his choices. He was pretty sure that he’d be able to get a job, Aizawa wasn’t blaming the fire (It was accidental arson, Aizawa ) on him and any other details weren’t liable to go on his record, so that wasn’t a concern.

The real issue was Izuku. Dabi did not want to leave the kid alone with Aizawa while he was working out all of his issues. It wasn’t that Dabi didn’t trust Aizawa, it was that he worried about Izuku trusting the man. Izuku didn’t trust easily and wasn't liable to go to anyone for help, meaning that if the kid was in trouble, Aizawa wouldn’t be able to help since he wouldn’t know. Izuku relied so heavily on Dabi, that at this point, separating them would be counterproductive. Also, even if Dabi got a job, it would probably be years before he could afford the therapy and meds that Izuku might need to deal with everything. (That’s excluding his own trauma and recovery)

And with that thought, Dabi had decided on what he was going to do, now it was only a matter of convincing Izuku to go with him on it.

Shouta did not expect a month to pass as quickly as it did, and yet, somehow, here he is, standing outside the apartment where his foster child Midoriya and his idiot older brother lived. When Dabi had originally suggested that they simply combine the options, he was skeptical. The idea of giving Midoriya and Dabi the living space next to Shouta and Hizashi and then fostering Midoriya seemed like a lot of work, but with Tsukauchi on their side and an actual adult (who had been taking care of the child long before this) in the apartment with Midoriya, everything seemed like smooth sailing.

However, things never go exactly as one wishes them to. After all, even the best-laid plans never survive contact with the enemy.

“AIZAWA GET IN HERE!” An echoing scream sounded from the apartment. “DABI, KILL IT WITH FIRE !”

“WE TRIED THAT LAST TIME! A SECOND TIME COULD MAKE ME A SERIAL ARSONIST!”

“I DON’T CARE ASSHOLE, IT NEEDS TO DIE !”

There was a moment of shuffling and dull thumps, and then silence. Shouta sighed as he opened the door (He didn’t want to do this, but noise violations, as well as what was left of his precious sleep schedule demand he make an appearance). When he entered the apartment, the first thing he saw was one Izuku Midoriya perched on top of the refrigerator with a can of Raid. Below him, Dabi had leaped onto the sink (One foot was very obviously stuck inside a pitcher and the other was right on the edge) and had one hand lit up with cerulean blue fire. 

“Why are we doing this?” Shouta arched a single eyebrow in pure exasperation.

Both of them paused, looked up at each other, and then pointed down to a tiny black spot on the floor. As Shouta approached the black spot, he noticed it had eight legs and eight pitiful eyes. A spider. They were going to burn down a second (Dear gods above and below this could have happened twice ) apartment building over a spider.

“How did you two survive this long?” Shouta drawled as he pinched the bridge of his nose. “Remind me, because this is giving me no faith that I’m not looking at two ghosts,”

“Listen here you shit ,” Midoriya began. “When I went out on the streets, I signed up for Yakuza and running for my life as well as street fighting, not creepy eyed pincers of death .”

“I come from a rich family, I made bank by turning in fighting rings. I don’t know what you expected,” Dabi shrugged as he carefully shook his hand and put the fire out. Then he looked down at his foot in the pitcher. Looking sheepish the young man rubbed the back of his head and gestured to the spider on the floor.

Shouta sighed, grabbed an empty glass from the cabinet, a paper towel, and finally moved to throw the poor creature out the door (Shouta doesn’t even want to think about how many times he’s had to do this for Hizashi). Once that was finished, Shouta pulled Midoriya down from the fridge by the strings on his hoodie (Midoryia, somehow, landed on his feet right behind Shouta) and then moved to get Dabi’s foot ripped free from the pitcher. 

“Now, the real reason I came over today, beyond the noise violation in progress,” Shouta paused as he collected himself. “What are your plans for the future ?”

Midoriya hissed , scrunching up his entire face and pulling his knees into his chest while Dabi froze, ramrod straight with a blank look on his face. So in all, it went better than Shouta had predicted, at least no one spontaneously combusted.

Thankfully, Dabi was the first one to face the music. “I wanted to finish my education first,”

“And from there?”

“I want to be a hero, underground specifically. I don’t want anyone to go through what I did. So I might as well put my experience to work,”

Shouta nodded and began planning a training regime for him in the back of his head. Dabi may be able to use his quirk well, but he was also skin and bones (It also didn’t help that apparently his quirk harmed him, but that was another issue for another person, specifically the support department. They’re always up for a challenge). The back alley villains would eat him alive without some more muscle. 

“Midoriya.”

The aforementioned kid had paled even more (if that was at all possible) and pulled his legs in closer, arms trembling, resembling less of human, and more of a badly sculpted ball that a child from grade 1 made. He looked side to side, and then, in a low voice, began to speak.

“I-,” He took another breath, broken by small hiccups. Dabi had leaned in by now and was massaging one of Midoriya’s hands. “I’ve alw-always wanted to-to be a h-hero,”

Oh, oh shit . The kid who wanted to be a hero (he’d probably idolized them like every other child under the age of six) had been told all his life that he’d killed his mother, had what was considered a villain quirk, and was dealing with various other trauma from being on the streets. (Mental note, look into therapists, this kid could use a few) So, Shouta took a deep breath and then leaned forward and out of the chair to crouch right where Midoriya could see him. 

“Problem child look at me,” Dull green eyes flickered up to Shouta’s face, resting on what was probably his chin. “We’ve all made mistakes, some worse than others. You were five years old and in a situation that most pros would struggle to comprehend. Everything you did? It’s not on you, you were a child. It was your parents' fault for what happened. It’s their job to protect and love you. So, Izuku. I believe that you can be a hero,”

The day ended with Shouta wrapping up a sobbing Izuku, scratching his head, and warding off a hovering Dabi.

Chapter Text

It had been four whole months (ten months to the exam which Izuku still wasn’t sure he was going to pass) since Aizawa had adopted him and Izuku was still reeling. The unconditional love and support was something that he hadn’t expected and yet! Here it was.

To start off, Aizawa had bought them clothes up one wall and down the other (Their closets have no space left, we counsel mercy please!). Then, Hizashi supplied them with so much hero merch that they had to dedicate the third room in the house to it (It was supposed to be an office space, but now they had All Might’s face enshrined on a desk. Technically they could still work there, but would you really want to?). And finally, surpassing all previous expectations, the two heroes had hunted down Nezu to make him help Dabi get a license! (Sure, it was provisional, and Aizawa had to mentor him for about three years, but it was still something. In the end, Dabi was happy about it, and that’s all that really mattered to Izuku.)

On the other hand, however, the training regime Aizawa had made for Izuku could find it’s own special place in hell. There was no way this was “tough love” (No matter what Yamada said when Izuku complained). Not with the 20 km jogs, hours of sparring and weapon work, and then working on his quirk. They spent hours working on Izuku's control over other people's brain chemicals (editing how long and how deep asleep that he could put them in), hours trying to figure out how much of a touch was needed for his quirk to take effect (They found Izuku could knock out anyone with a brush of hair or skin, but it was harder than if he had more than one or a larger point of contact), and so, so, many days figuring out if Izuku could turn his quirk off. (The answer? He could, but only for a little at a time since that took concentration. After reigning in his control a bit more, Aizawa had wanted to explore the portion of his quirk that they'd seen used at the police station, but Izuku had shut down so fast that Sonic would have been jealous. Thus it had been shelved until Izuku had gone through therapy.)

It was during one said training session when Izuku was able to meet Shinsou again.

“Careful!” Dabi shouted from the sidelines, water bottle in hand, tank top straps hanging off of slumped shoulders that were covered in sweat from the previous match. (Aizawa had won, but just barely. Izuku begrudgingly had to admit that Endeavor had trained Dabi well.)

Izuku would have heeded this warning if a fist hadn't ended up flying towards his face. In response to both the warning and the hand, he jumped backward and a bit sideways so he could plant his back foot in the sand. Then he used the momentum of Aizawa’s hand to catch the man’s wrist and elbow, following through he planted his hip right in Aizawa’s stomach and threw him. 

As Aizawa flew through the air he tucked and rolled, able to bounce up into a fighting stance facing Izuku. 

The two ended up circling each other, hunting for that twitch of a muscle, that look in the other’s eyes that would signify when another attack would be used. 

Izuku was gearing up to make the first attack when Aizawa moved. His capture weapon shot out like a cobra from the fields, wrapping around Izuku and binding his arms to his stomach tight.

Izuku was now the one to fly forward as Aizawa tugged the strands forward. 

Grimacing, Izuku flipped in mid-air, head over foot, to aim his feet right at Aizawa’s head. 

Aizawa's eyes widened as he realized what was happening and moved to dodge, narrowly missing Izuku's booted foot that would have made a nice imprint on his face.

Now grinning, Izuku angled and landed on the sand, both feet sliding, kicking up sand, as he widened his stance and pulled the scarf back towards him. Aizawa was once again in the air, and the momentum forwards forced the scarf to lose its tension, thus allowing Izuku to escape and leap out of the way. 

Aizawa tried to halt his stop by digging his feet into the sand, but Izuku was rushing him before he slowed down too much. Planting his hands on the ground, Izuku decked and moved his left foot forward to sweep Aizawa’s feet out from underneath the man. 

Aizawa tumbled forward, rolling multiple times before he was able to stand on his feet again, however, by the time his world righted and he was standing, Izuku kicked his knees out. Moving swiftly, so Aizawa wouldn't be able to recover again, Izuku wrapped his right hand around his forehead and the left clenched the back of Aizawa’s right shoulder. The position would allow Izuku to snap his neck at any moment. 

The winner was blatant.

“Alright problem child. I yield,” Aizawa turned around once Izuku had released his grip, grinning when they heard it.

Izuku turned his head around to the left and found one Shinsou Hitoshi, slowly clapping with a slack face and wide eyes, pure awe radiating from every bone in his body.

“That was,” Shinsou paused and stopped clapping. “Amazing. Where did you learn to do that? I've never seen anyone my age move like that,”

Izuku’s lip twitched as his head tilted and his eyes drifted diagonally. “Gangs, fighting rings, and Aizawa himself,”

Shinsou blinked and Izuku’s eyes shifted back up to meet his. “Ah,”

“So,” Dabi now stood up from where he was hidden behind the mound of junk between the entrance and the field, looking between the two teenagers with a glint to his eyes. (Izuku really did not like where this was going). “Are you here to ogle my brother? Or for another reason?”

Aizawa snorted (the traitor) as Izuku and Shinsou’s faces flushed redder than Endeavor’s hair, from their roots down to their clavicle. 

“I-ah-I heard noises from here,” Shinsou was the first to recover and begin his defense. “And since Dagobah beach isn’t used often, I wasn’t sure what it was. Cue my investigation,”

Dabi nodded once and then motioned for Aizawa and Izuku to come to grab a drink of water. 

Shinsou followed them to the weird bench that Aizawa had made out of scrap. It was painful, but the only seating that wouldn't give you tetanus. “So are you training to be a hero?”

Izuku’s shoulders stiffened, but he forced them back down before it became noticeable. “Yup,” Izuku turned his head over his shoulder and grinned, masking the falter with false (maybe) confidence.

“Oh,” Was Shinsou’s lackluster response as he flushed a gorgeous crimson. (Quietly Izuku was glad they trained in minimal clothing, it was both refreshing for the body and, now, spirit)

Aizawa looked away again and then, after taking a very obvious minute to compose himself, spoke up. “Would you like to join us? I assume you want to be a hero as well?”

And that was definitely the wrong thing to say. Shinsou’s eyes lost all of their life as he looked away, he took a few shuffling steps back and then scratched the back of his neck. “Ah, yeah, I guess,”

Dabi looked up from his phone (which, Izuku noted, finally had its Endeavor Sucks case on, which they'd bought it after a particularly nasty article was released when the man had burnt down an apartment building by accident. It sparked a minor revolution of Endeavor fans turning anti and Dabi, of course, found this amazing, promptly bought out an entire store's worth of merch condemning the man.) and shot Izuku a look that could essentially be boiled down to “take care of your sad potential boyfriend”. To which Izuku shot back a look that said, “I know” “I will take care of it” and “He’s not my ‘potential’ boyfriend” all at once.

“You guess?” Izuku dropped to the ground, set an elbow on his knee, and propped his head onto that hand. “That’s not a real certain answer,”

“Should it be?” Shinsou took another step back, eyes squinting at Izuku’s still form. 

“I mean, if you want to save people,” Dabi began as well, sitting on the other side of Izuku and flopping his sweaty head on Izuku’s shoulder. “You should probably be really sure that that’s what you want to do. Half-assing things only gets people killed,” 

Izuku batted at the hair in his face and then shoved Dabi hard off his shoulder, sticking his tongue out when the man hit the sand behind him. Aizawa stifled a chuckle at their antics and crouched down to Izuku’s right, careful to dump a bit of water on Dabi’s head. Dabi sat up, spluttered for a second, and then glared harshly at the older man. 

“What was that for?” Dabi growled, looking like a drowned, and fried rat.

Aizawa just grinned at the sight and then splayed his legs out, taking up way more room than what he needed. 

“Well,” Shinsou began as he slowly backed towards the stairs hidden behind the piles (and piles and piles and.. Well piles) of junk. “I guess it’s time for me to go,”

“Nope,” Izuku popped the p and leaned forward, placing his second elbow on the other knee and then shoving his fave even further into his hands. “You’re gonna sit down and explain why ‘I guess’ is your answer,”

Shinsou’s hackles visibly rose. His fears, Izuku could practically feel, exploded in that pretty (damn gorgeous) head of his lighting a fire behind his eyes. He seemed to war with himself for a few moments before he gingerly set his stuff down and took a seat right behind it all, as if that could protect him from what he feared.

Shinsou kept silent and kept looking away, leaving a tension that Izuku really didn’t like in the air. 

“Well?” Dabi quirked an unimpressed eyebrow at the kid who was steadily building up more walls than China. 

“Well, ” Shinsou snapped, clearly on edge. “My quirk makes me perfect for being a villain .”

Oh, well that explained a bit, but at the same time nothing at all. Everyone’s quirk was perfect for being a villain if you tried hard enough (Hell even people with no quirk could be villains, at this point all you had to do was break the law once and you went from average person to delinquent villain. There was no middle ground. Izuku would know). It was like that old meme about murder's not being special since a duck could do what they did.

“And? What’s your quirk?” Izuku was invested now, he had to know what was so bad that it might prevent him from doing hero work. It had to be something bad, maybe something really intimidating, like peeling skin to make weapons, or one similar to that. 

“Brainwashing,” Shinsou spat like how most people say things like ‘politics’ and ‘Dinkleberg’.

Okay.

Izuku blinked. 

Izuku took a moment to process.

And then Izuku burst out laughing. (He couldn’t help his awful reaction to things, okay?!? It was probably the childhood trauma.)

“What the hell man!” Shinsou turned red with indignation, looking more like a diseased tomato than a person. 

“I-, I’m so sorry,” Izuku managed to breathe between each burst of raucous laughter. “It’s listen, just, oh, god, shit.”

“Breathe ‘Zuku,” Dabi was struggling to hide his smile behind a half charbroiled hand. (The fried bitch, this wasn’t supposed to be funny. This was serious damnit)

Izuku then looked to Aizawa for assistance. 

Aizawa was the one person Izuku could count on, he’d been there in his darkest times, lighting the way with kind words and gentle touches. Aizawa would hold firm in the front of an oncoming hurricane. Aizawa had wormed his way into Izuku's heart. Aizawa was amazing and strong, and a great wall of strength that wouldn't break no matter what was thrown at it.

So, of course, Aizawa was also laughing. 

“WHY ARE YOU BOTH LIKE THIS?” Izuku shouted once he regained his lungs from their fit of insanity. “I WAS TRYING TO BE SERIOUS!”

Dabi just continued laughing while Aizawa hid his face in the capture weapon that very conveniently covered the lower half of his face. 

“ANYWAYS,” Izuku gave the two the most scathing glare he could manage before softening it as he transferred his gaze to Shinsou. “Like I was saying or at least trying to. The quirk doesn’t make the villain. The shitty personality, society, and childhood trauma do that.”

Dabi turned, tapped Izuku on the shoulder, and stared flatly at him.

Izuku popped up his shoulders giving his brother a ‘what can you do?’ look. “We’re not gonna dump you for something that you literally can’t control Shinsou.”

Aizawa nodded, and once Dabi finished his silent scolding, he too smiled softly at the purple child in front of him. Shinsou meanwhile looked like a man lead to water in the desert of quirk discrimination. His face was once again slack, and his eyes sparkled with a light that Izuku very much liked. 

“I,” He paused and gripped the bag in front of him tighter. “You’re not gonna leave? You- You still want me here?”

Aizawa looked to the two children beside him and when Izuku caught his eyes and motioned for him to say something “dadly” he sighed and began to speak. “I erase quirks kid, I’m the definition of what someone would look for in a villain. And yet, I’m a hero. I think that if I can do it, so can you. So, what do you say to that offer for training?”

Shinsous eyes widened and then nodded furiously as he passed his phone to Aizawa for the man’s phone number to get updates on places and times for the sessions. 

And from there on out, it was smooth sailing. Or at least, that’s what Izuku would love to say. In actuality, two weeks and three training sessions with Shinsou after that fateful encounter, Izuku was ambushed by a slimy ass piece of shit. Even worse, Shinsou was with him (to see the utter failure that Izuku's life had become) as they planned to go to the local cat cafe after the training session.

“A medium-sized meat-suit, perfect” A voice echoed under the overpass that the two had just entered. 

They both looked at each other and then booked it, Aizawa’s warnings ringing in their heads. Remember, if you don’t know anything about your opponent, run as fast as your legs can take you. Preferably even faster.

Unfortunately, the slimy ass piece of shit (Whose name Izuku shortened to Slimy) was faster. He gripped Izuku by the ankle and tugged hard, pulling him right off his feet and face-first into the concrete. (They really should have climbed up the fire escape one building back, roof running was both fun and a great way to lose very persistent pursuers (including cops and many pro heroes))

Attempting to recover from the shock of meeting the road surface in an intimate way, Izuku was unable to ward off the attack of the body snatcher. So the last thing he heard from the wonderful world of light was Shinsous scream.

“MIDORIYA!”

And then everything was black as Slimy attempted to force his way down his throat.

Sadly for Slimy, this meant that his weird-ass eyeballs ended up touching Izuku, and since that qualified as skin, Slimy promptly passed the hell out. 

Sadly for Izuku, that meant he was covered in slime and now couldn’t breathe, but due to his quirk, he also couldn’t pass out. Which was an interesting combination that if at all possible, Izuku would rather avoid ever having to deal with again. Every inhale caused his eyes to roll back into his skull, and every exhale sent him coughing and hacking up a lung. 

It was a rather disgusting experience that Izuku is going to have to remove from his brain in some way at some point in time when he’s not covered in slime. 

Finally, the slime and other assorted goop were peeled off of his face and he was met with the ever-smiling face of one All Might. 

Okay, maybe he was hallucinating. Time to check with Shinsou and see if he too was seeing All Might. 

Izuku looked over at his friend and was met with wide eyes and furtive glances that would snap back to All Might like he too couldn’t believe what he was seeing. 

“I’m glad to see you awake young man!” The definitely real All Might said in a booming voice. “Are you okay?”

“Uhhhhhhhh,” Izuku paused allowing his tiny pea brain to compute the man in front of him. “Yes, yeah, I’m fine!”

All Might laughed like he took up the whole world, which thinking about it later Izuku would find a little pretentious, but this was All Might. The man was allowed to be larger than life. “Glad to hear, now young man, I must be off!”

“Wait!” Izuku’s mouth moved before he could tell it not to.

“Yes?” All Might turned, and it might have been Izuku’s imagination, but he seemed slightly afraid. “Ah, you’re a young fan, you must be looking for an autograph. Worry not! I left one with your friend over there in your notebook!”

“That’s” Great, Izuku thought, but not what he wanted to know. “Can someone with a horrible quirk that’s accidentally done bad things still become a hero?”

All Might paused and looked at Izuku as if he was really seeing the young man in front of him for the first time since this chance encounter. “Should they serve their punishment given to them by the full extent of the law, then yes, I think that they can become a hero.”

“And if the law refuses to punish them?”

“Then they must have done nothing truly wrong to deserve punishment.”

And with that, the man, the legend left. One single bound brought him out of their sights and onto the next civilian to save. 

Izuku collapsed again, barely hearing Shinsous nervous calls of his name. All Might thought that he’d done nothing wrong. All Might said that he could be a hero. All Might, the number one hero, had somehow done what Aizawa, Dabi, and his therapist couldn’t. All Might was able to begin Izuku’s path to fully forgiving himself for something that everyone had always told him was his fault.

“Hey Shinsou,” Izuku looked up at his friend, tears welling in his eyes. “I’m glad we came this way today.”

And just like that, his day was better. Any residual stiff muscles and aching bones were relieved. No weight could weigh on Izuku’s shoulders today. Nothing was going to be able to drag him down. 

After finishing their journeying to the cafe, Izuku sat amongst the cats and let them pile on top of him, creating a fluffy blanket of apathetic fur. It was paradise. He felt free, he felt like he was gonna be able to do it. He felt ready to become the hero that Dabi and Aizawa always said they saw in him. 

So when the explosions started going off, Izuku cussed out the entire universe for trying to prove him wrong.

Shinsou and Izuku made their way out of the cafe and onto the now crowded streets where Slimy could be seen once again, but this time he was holding a hostage. 

“Who thinks that setting off their quirk like that’s a good idea?” Shinsou motioned to the fire that was beginning to spread. “I mean, the heroes can’t even get to them through all of- Izuku?”

But once again, like earlier, Izuku couldn’t hear Shinsous' worried tone. In fact, Izuku couldn’t hear much of anything because right in the center of the sludge was one Bakugou Katsuki.  It had been so long, so long since he’d last seen his best friend. And his eyes, of course, were screaming for help.

So, faster than Izuku could process, he was running. Running directly towards the exact situation that he fought to avoid not even three hours ago. Cursing himself for his reckless nature and the need to do something, he assessed what he could while hurtling towards the villain, he looked for Slimey’s weaknesses.

The eyes were the only thing that he could think of, and just in time as well. Izuku had just enough space that if he jumped, the apex of the arc would be right at Slimey’s eyes.

Pushing off right before he needed to, Izuku launched himself right up towards the sorry excuse for slime’s face. He avoided one strange glob that looked like it was trying to defend the most vulnerable part of Slimy, and threw out a single hand, reaching for those yellow eyes.

His fingertips glanced off of Slimy's right eyeball, but thankfully that was all he needed, and Slimy for the second time that day, passed out. 

From there, everything was a cinch. Bakugou was pulled from the sludge by a very distraught Deatharms, and Komui Woods pulled Izuku to the side, berating him for the recklessness, but admitting they hadn’t done anything so Izuku’s actions were a welcome help. 

“Your quirk’s pretty strong, kid. I wish you the best of luck in the future,” The wood-laden man’s eyes squished and Izuku assumed he was smiling, but his face mask wasn’t exactly conducive to facial expressions.

“Thanks,” Izuku nodded, trying to be polite, but also trying to escape this hell. There were reasons he was going underground when he became a hero, and the media, as well as other pros, were just a few of them.

Izuku managed to push his way through the crowd and back out onto the streets with some creative thinking and a hell of a lot of pissed-off energy. (When in doubt, think murder and walk) He managed to meet back up with Shinsou and then they were off. Finally headed for their train where they’d be able to kick back, relax, and-

Wait.

Someone was following them. They were trying to be stealthy, but failing horribly since their presence radiated anger.

“Oi,” It was particularly soft for someone who had yelled so much when they were children. But, Bakugou was looking at Izuku with a conflicted light in his eyes, flickering like the flames of his explosions. “What the fuck are you doing back here nerd?”

Izuku squinted, before scoffing. He didn’t know how Bakugou had handled the news. “Why the hell do you want to know?”

Bakugou paused and then growled. “Oh, dodging the question huh? After just up and fucking leaving me like that. You know I would have taken you in, dumbass. ‘Auntie’ Inko wasn’t fooling too many people with that innocent lamb type shit,”

Izuku’s eyes twitched. Maybe it was the fact that he hadn’t seen Bakugou in years, but he’d forgotten how blunt the boy was. “Maybe I was too panicked to come to you?”

Bakugou seemed to concede that point before lighting that fire again. “Well, that doesn’t fucking excuse the fact that I was left with a decade of silence. I thought you died, you absolute dick ! Can’t you ever trust anyone?”

“OH,” Izuku ground his teeth, foot grinding into the pavement below. “I’m so sorry that my problems inconvenienced you, !”

Bakugou’s eyes widened, and of course, with the exact same nature that had constantly gotten them into and out of trouble when they were children, doubled down. “We were supposed to be heroes together, and you just fucking upped and left. Abandoned our DREAM DEKU! And then you replaced me with a subpar eggplant haired asshole? FUCK YOU! YOU’RE JUST AS BAD AS YOUR MOTHER”

Izuku could stand insults to his person but the moment you started gunning for his friends? Then all bets were off. “Oh fuck you right back. Maybe I just got tired of you and your fucking judgemental attitude, yeah? It was always your way and never anyone else's. At this rate, I hope you're the Endeavor to my All Might,”

And with that Izuku grabbed Shinsou by the hand, dragging him away from Bakugou who was left floundering.

It was time to prepare for the entrance exam.

Chapter Text

Walking home from the store, Shigaraki Tomura did something that he didn’t do often. He reflected on the plans. 

First of all, the Nomu wasn’t going well. There had been a major setback in the labs and so it wouldn’t be ready for a few more months, thus pushing their plans back even further than both Sensei and he would have liked. Second, they were having issues finding canon fodder for the attack. After all, the minute people heard UA, All Might, and kill in the same sentence they lost all of the spine they obtained ‘facing the law’. Even with the Nomu as insurance those useless NPCs still dropped out faster than flies. 

It was disgusting that they even had the gall to call themselves villains. No self respecting ‘villain’ would let themselves chicken out of the deal of the century. If Tomura had had his way, well, they wouldn’t have had to worry about dropping out of things anymore, but Sensei said that those NPCs would prove their worth even without joining the mission so they’d been spared. How their lives were worth anything, only Sensei knew, but Tomura trusted him.

Lights flickered around him as he entered the final few blocks to the bar in Kamino. People passed him by, giving the mysterious stranger a wide berth. One person loitered right outside the bar, typing out something on his phone, another sat just inside the shadows of the building, seemingly asleep. It was disgusting that all these maggots just existed without seeing the scum of the world. The one on his phone even had an All Might case, deplorable .

Before he could reach out and touch the man with all five fingers, he remembered that he didn’t want to drag attention to himself. So, he reeled in the impulse with what self control he had and continued walking up the stairs to the door. Glaring slightly at it, he hoped Kurogiri had good news. Or, at least, something to rid him of this terrible mood.

Opening the door though he was met with not the normal squeak of Kurogiri’s cloth on the shot glasses, but instead silence. 

Odd.

So he opened the door further and was met with an intruder sitting on one of the bar stools, feet kicked up on Kurogiri’s perpetually clean mahogany bar with no Kurogiri behind it. The person had a nail file in one of their hands and seemed to be filing down their thumb.

“Who" Tomura started only to be cut off like a vestigial limb.

“Ah you must be the leader of this fine establishment,” The voice reminded Tomura of a snake in the woods. Coiled tight, willing to let you go, but should you step on it, that would be your last mistake. “I apologize for ah, breaking in however, I really did need to talk to you,”

“And what the hell’s so important that you had to invite yourself in?” Tomura approached the seat where the woman was now running a hand through the hair that had loosened from the pony tail. He reached out a little to touch one of the glasses but was stopped when he heard a gun’s safety come off.

“I’d be careful with what you do around the boss,” A voice drawled from where the door to the bar had just shut. A young man with white hair and a mess of tattoos on his exposed arms was revealed, and he was pointing a pistol right at Tomura’s head. Great.

He’d walked right into a trap. One that he could negotiate his way out of sure, but he’d still accidentally triggered a boss. And judging by the people appearing out of the shadows, a pretty powerful one.

“I will,” Tomura scratched his neck, the urge to kill all these new (potential) enemies was increasing.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” The woman said, reading his mind and finally looking him in the face. Tomura was surprised to recognize the person who the face belonged to, it was the woman who’d escaped from America. Prisoner Zero. Her face had been broadcasted across the globe, and no one knew where she’d gone. “I’d rather not continue to be rude, so I’ll introduce myself first. I’m Kawasaki Kana, or, depending on my mood, Phobos.”

“Shigaraki Tomura,” He inclined his head a little, peering out of the fingers from the hand that he’d placed on his face after he’d sat down. She moved her head as well, mirroring his movements. “Now, why are you here, NPC?”

“NPC hmm,” Kawasaki hummed and then leaned her head back to look at him through the corner of her pale violet eyes. “Well, no matter.” She waved off the members of her organization, telling them to stand down and then spoke again.

“Well, I would simply adore to be part of your wonderful raid that I’ve been hearing about.” 

“You know we’re going after All Might,” Tomura didn’t need another faker getting his hopes up.

“I do, in fact know that,” She grinned wryly and rolled her eyes. “However, you won’t have to concern yourself about me taking the glory. I’m not interested in the number one. There’s a kid in the class who I think might have some answers I’m looking for,”

Tomura’s eyebrows raised, that was interesting. An NPC looking for another NPC, what was this? An escort mission?

“What the hell makes you think for a single second I want a useless NPC helping me out? Especially one that wants to add kidnapping to the list of side quests,” Tomura glared and scratched the side of his neck, dead skin flaking off with every movement.

“I’ll personally participate in your little raid and give you a bit more street cred,” She grinned and then tapped the bar twice, a woman who’d been sitting on the couch stood up and began to pull something out.

“And beyond that?” Tomura was beginning to think this would only benefit her. She gets whatever kid she’s gunning for, and he gets approximately one new body. Unbalanced, not equivalent exchange, as that one ancient anime said.

“Why, other than my services, you would get access to whatever I can salvage of the Red Steel Deck Mafia. You’ve already met a few of my Aces,” She motioned to the white haired man who’d begun to clean a weapon and then the woman with sandy blonde hair. “I promise, this agreement will end with both parties satisfied. You won’t even have to worry about betrayal, because I’m wanted in several countries and you could call the cops on me at any point. They’d be real happy to see me again,”

“Fine, but remember your place,” Tomura spat. “NPC,”

“God, that’s such a pretentious line. You’re real fuckin annoying, so maybe you need an ego check here,” Phobos grinned and pulled her feet off the table. Her eyes locked onto his through the hand and he got chills . Something was walking across his grave as this woman moved slowly, telegraphing every move like he was an unruly child. Her very body language spoke as if she was talking him out of a temper tantrum. All curved shoulders, drooping eyebrows, and pitying eyes.

“I’m going to be honest here. Your plan is doomed to fail. You’re an overconfident brat who was obviously raised to think they were the strongest in the room. Sure you’ve got a neat quirk there, but do you know how many people like you I’ve met? People who call themselves supervillains with goals grander than rooms gilded in gold? Well I’ll tell you, I’ve met plenty , and most of those cocky, arrogant assholes are rotting in the bottom of a prison without any help, because they were abandoned after they ground their heel into the cannon fodder one too many times.

Put some respect to my fucking name, and then maybe I’ll actually take you seriously,”

Tomura’s eyes widened and he snarled, reaching out for the person who dared to insult the genius of his plan. She would die for her insolence.

Laughing, the woman moved like water through a siv, avoiding every attack, every hand that Tomura shot out. Her coat fluttered and her hair flew as she ducked under his hand one last time, and before he could even register it, a hand gently tapped his collar bone. 

That singular touch reignited a part of Tomura’s memories that he thought he’d lost forever until he was forced to rewatch his worst fears from his torrid past. 

And Prisoner Zero, Kawasaki Kana, Phobos , left the building, the sandy blonde woman, the gun toting male, the All Might cased man, and the person from the shadows, tailing her all the way back to a warehouse that no one but those involved in it’s destruction knew about.

Chapter Text

Izuku would like it to be noted right here and right now that he actually has extraordinary reflexes and that this imminent face plant into the cold, hard, concrete is not indicative of his ability to dodge deadly attacks. How, one might ask, had he gotten to this specific point in his life where every attempt to conjure up a specific threatening, aloof aura failed miserably?

Well, after he had that absolutely delightful encounter with Bakugou, he was forced to explain that rather unsavory part of his history to Shinsou. Not something that he’d wanted to do, but Shinsou had accepted the “confession” and agreed that Izuku wasn’t at fault for the bullshit other people pulled on him. From there they continued the walk back to Shinsou’s house where he then pulled Izuku into a hug that Izuku didn’t really know how to return. Shinsou disappeared through the door after faintly smiling back at a stock still Izuku, which was rather embarrassing, but that hug had shut down most of his brain's functions, so he couldn’t exactly be blamed.

And after that, life kept going great. He’d ended up training more (creeping closer to beating Aizawa), getting closer with Shinsou (the cat cafe fifteen minutes from Aizawa’s place was very convenient), receiving even more relentless mockery from the deep fried Oreo of a person that he considered his brother, and nailing those extra summer school lessons because apparently only knowing how to read on a third grade level wasn’t good . 

All of these amazing (ly annoying) events, in a final crescendo, landed him right where he is today. Walking right into UA for their entrance exams. The very thing that he never thought he’d ever achieve in his life. 

He was going to be a hero.

After he ate dirt.

Which would be any minute now...

Right?

“Oh, I’m sorry I used my quirk on you without asking! But tripping before the exam would be bad luck,” A soft, chipper voice came from behind him.

As he attempted to turn around, Izuku found himself floating in midair- the manner in which gravity seemed to have been ripped away from his mortal form was a bit too similar to that of his nightmare- which made him panic a bit. 

Sue him. 

“Hdahhaaaa,” Izuku attempted to force the words out of his mouth, however his vocal cords decided to freeze like Snuffles the cat staring at a wall at one AM and leave him blubbering in front of the savior he was attempting to thank.

“Oh! The exam starts soon,” The girl smiled and gently tapped her fingertips together causing gravity to take hold again which placed him gently on his feet. She grinned one last time as she began her sprint into UA. “You don’t want to be late! See you later!”

“Wai-!” Izuku’s brain had finally rebooted as she entered the main entrance, meaning that he was too late.

“And, she’s gone,” A hand landed on Izuku’s shoulder and he whirled around to face his only friend, Shinsou, whose smile showed just a bit too much teeth for it to be comforting.

“Yeah, thanks, I noticed,” Izuku buried his face into his hands before swinging a leg out and tripping Shinsou up, not enough for him to fall of course, but just enough for him to stumble and flail ridiculously for a few seconds. “I have eyes, y’know.”

“You do,” Shinsou closed his eyes and nodded sagely after regaining his balance. “It’s just, when things like this happen, it makes me wonder if you can use them.”

“I hate you,” Izuku said with finality, walking further along the entrance lined by trees in order to avoid even more pointed jabs.

“Most people do,” Sinsou gave a lopsided grin and followed Izuku into the school building. 

It took a while to get out of UA’s winding maze of corridors and hallways (Izuku would like to know if this was a security measure or if the principal was just sadistic and wanted to see people be late to where they needed to be), but once they did, the two were faced with an enormous set of doors. 

“Why do they need to be so tall?” Izuku muttered as he shoved against them, revealing a gigantic auditorium. 

As they entered in, Shinsou’s eye twitched when he looked around the room which could easily rival most stadiums for seating capacity. “Why is everything so big? I get accommodations for enlarging quirks, but the ceiling is up so high two Mount Ladies stacked on top of each other could fit in here,”

“Compensation?” Izuku grinned and lightly bumped into Shinsou’s shoulder as he went to sit down near the aisle where they just came in.

“Definitely. The real question is what the compensations for ,” Shinsou in turn leaned into the touch and flopped over Izuku’s side, scooting closer on the bench. 

Their conversation from there fell into hushed whispers until Yamada came on stage and got ready to begin the announcements. Izuku cared deeply for this man, but when Yamada asked for a loud hey, Izuku felt no sympathy when he only received silence.

“ALRIGHTY,” Yamada, valiantly, ignored the stone cold quiet and moved on with the explanation. What a hero.

From there, it was everything that Izuku already knew. One, two, and three pointers were where they wanted to go, make sure not to die, and that should they be maimed or brutally injured, they did have a nurse on hand who could, probably, fix you up.

“Excuse me!” A harsh, curt voice interrupted Yamada’s explanation, right when he was getting to the good part. “You there!” A vague figure pointed a probably accusing finger at him.

“Me?” Izuku suddenly felt the need to bash his head into a desk. If only he could knock himself out to avoid whatever was coming next, but alas, his quirk never had his needs in mind.

“Yes!” The figure waved a hand around. “This is a prestigious school, it would only benefit you to pay attention! Please cease your muttering! Also, what about the fourth robot? It’s unbecoming for a school like UA to forget something like that!”

Izuku paused, had he really been muttering? And if so, how the hell had that kid heard him from all the way over there, did he have super hearing? Was he using it to spy on other kids? That was weird. Unless he was listening for disruptions, in which case, it was still weird.

“You do,” Izuku paused, honestly bewildered, as he organized his thoughts against the roaring tide of his mind. “You do realize that, a, you’re interrupting the explanation Ya-Present Mic is giving, right when he was about to explain that part, and b, that I was paying attention? Your attention and my attention are very different things mister ‘I’m listening for every single disturbance in a room to call it out’”

The figure paused, likely to either contemplate Izuku’s words or in embarrassment (not that Izuku cared which), and then promptly sat back down, back stiffer than Aizawa’s scarf wrapped around Dabi after the young adult burnt the bacon for the fifth breakfast in a row. Shinsou snickered as he ruffled Izuku’s hair in silent support. Present Mic in turn, kept going like that conversation hadn’t even happened. Although, Izuku could see the slight shaking of his hair immediately after he finished the explanation, which usually meant Yamada was trying not to laugh.

Satisfied with himself, Izuku wound his arms around Shinsou’s neck and grabbed his own hands, letting Shinsou drag his limp body all the way to their testing area. (He wasn’t sure if it was on purpose or not, but Izuku was ever so glad they put them in the same arena.)

Honestly, at this point, Shouta should just ask for prescription pain relievers if everyone around him was going to hand him headaches for free. Although , maybe a career change wouldn’t be a bad idea. After all, it would be cheaper than buying meds, and even though vigilantes didn’t get paid, they also didn’t have to deal with a man whose presence, even in his twig like form, took up so much room it could have its own address.

“Young Aizawa!” The walking advertisement started over to him. (Someone please save him) “What are your opinions of these fine young men and women?”

“Yagi, hello,” Shouta breathed out heavily, trying to convey that he didn’t want to be conversed with right now. His focus lay on finding the kids that didn’t have physical quirks, but still tried anyway (a heroic act of courage in the first place, considering it was widespread “secret” knowledge that robots were the entrance exam). “Pay attention, Mic’s about to release the kids. Besides, I’m not about to dictate your choices, it’s your job as a teacher to recognize potential and vouch for it,”

“Of course! You’re an amazing teacher, Young Aizawa. Thank you for providing that useful bit of insight!” The man’s voice boomed . (How was being that loud without a voice enhancement quirk a thing ?). After that proclamation, the number one hero ambled away, hopefully to watch the students instead of bothering the other teachers. Shouta was not looking forward to watching that man’s teaching, Yagi barely knew how to interact with self controlled adults. How the hell was he going to manage a class of overpowered teenagers?

But instead of breaking down in front of all the teachers, he breathed a sigh of relief and promptly glared at every single person who entered the room, warning them of their imminent demise should they choose to speak with him. Once they seemed to get the memo, Shouta settled right back into the chair a couple seats over from Nezu, prepped and ready for this exam. No one with a self preservation instinct was going to get within ten feet of him. Just the way he liked.

“YO, Aizawa, what’s cookin?” 

(Scratch that) 

A pair of footsteps and clacking buckles followed the greeting and Shouta was now faced with the sole person in this school that didn’t have a hero's finely tuned instinct of self preservation. His newly appointed assistant (Nezu thought it would be funny ), Yamada Touya (Tsukauchi said that when Touya got his license he shouldn’t have to be connected to a man who’d nearly killed him. They may not be able to take Endeavor out yet, but they can certainly take away any form of victory from him, no matter how small), AKA the underground sidekick to Eraserhead, Dabi.

“Touya, hello,” Shouta groaned. “What did I tell you?”

“Watch the kiddies until the physical exams begin, get an idea of what I missed out on” Touya’s mask was specially made to show expressions, soft LED lights formed every single smile and side eye, and right now the mask showed a very self satisfied smirk. It was annoying, but vital for communication considering Touya didn’t want to be identified with either one of his previous lives. (He looked ridiculous when he went out without the costume, high coats and sunglasses ended up being a staple) “And then come give you your notepad, which by the way, is right here.”

Shouta stared at the notebook held by Touya and debated if just passing out here would be worth the lecture he’d receive when he woke up. However, Touya did say he wanted to be here, especially after he realized he’d missed his biological younger brother’s entrance exam by oversleeping, so Shouta should have expected this. It didn’t mean that he wasn't mad about the distraction though.

“Fine,” Shouta took the notepad and opened it up, but not before giving the young man in his care a once over. “You can stay, but don’t talk to me again until this over,”

Touya’s mask lit up a pale blue in the shape of a smile and he dropped the hood of his uniform down, revealing his ash black hair. The rest of his suit seemed to be doing well, considering that Nemuri was eyeing it like it had personally attacked her and her (nonexistent) children. Sure it was a bit extravagant for Shoutas tastes, what, with the long coat that sported too many straps, the platform boots that Touya insisted weren’t platform, pants that mimicked Hizashi’s own pair, and a skin tight shirt underneath, all in blue and black and purple. Still though, it was functional and that was all Aizawa cared about in the end. 

But, he digresses, back to the exam. 

Mic and Cementoss gave their yells of go (with no countdown because no emergency takes the time to slow down and tell you it’s happening) which jolted many people, but very few actually moved at the call when it was first given. 

Thankfully, though, it wasn’t everyone, Izuku and Hitoshi bolted like rabbits, seemingly smiling the whole way into the robot infested city on one screen, while on the other one a blonde exploded past everyone else. 

This was going to be a year .

Hitoshi was running through the streets like his life depended on it, which, considering the three giant robots behind him, might not be so far from the truth. As one began to get closer, he picked up his pace, tearing around corner after corner until he managed to find the exact alley way that Midoriya had mentioned in his plan. Hitoshi looked up at the fire escape upon entry and as he sprinted closer to said escape, he leapt up to grab one of the upper rungs of the ladder that hung a few feet above his head. Using the momentum from his sprint, he back flipped himself right onto the bottom ledge of the escape. Feet planting, he felt a ripple of success at completing something he couldn’t have done months ago.

Now he turned around, grinning  at Midoriya who was crouched on the opposite railing, waiting from this exact moment. Giving a snapped nod accompanied by a mocking salute, Midoriya dropped right onto one of the robots heads, hands scratching and tearing through the exposed wires around the bots neck. 

Once he was finished with that one pointer, Hitoshi’s friend (and wow , was that a statement that should be bottled up and labeled addictive) pushed off of the dead robot’s shoulders, sailing up until he was able to get a grip on the larger three pointer’s head. Holding on tight, Midoriya pulled the head clean off of it’s neck, as the excess force propelled him forward, Midoriya tucked and rolled. Afterward, Midoriya carefully stood, grinning with a light fire in his normally tired eyes. 

Hitoshi paused for a second, trying not to let his jaw drop too much. After recovering enough to move, he jumped onto the ladder, allowing the downward force to shove it right down to the earth. (It would never cease to amaze him whenever Midoriya pulled off things like that. Sure, Hitoshi had seen him fight Aizawa, but they flung each other around like rag dolls, seemingly equal, and then beat the poor Hitoshi to a pulp. Seeing the raw strength and athleticism that Midoryia presented against opponents that didn’t have Aizawa’s skill was like watching a bull run through a China shop. It made Hitoshi glad he trained with them, if only to gain a fraction of that) 

“Impressive,” Hitoshi said in lieu of his brain's choice to abandon ship at the sight of Izuku smiling without his mask on. (Was he smiling at Hitoshi? Because if so, then his brain was now on a one way trip to the Caribbean)

“Not as impressive as you brainwashing that one kid into shoving that other kid away since they were too far for us to reach in time,” Midoriya countered, a serious note to his voice as they walked. “That was some pretty quick thinking,”

Hitoshi paused, blinked for a minute, and then began jogging to catch up with Midoriya. (It seemed that the boy left him speechless more often than not) “You know, I think that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me,”

“No, the nicest thing I’ve said to you was that I’d knock you out at any time your insomnia gets the better of you,” Midoriya rolled his eyes as if he was annoyed, but his tone of voice was soft.

“You hold a good-" 

The ground shook and roared beneath their feet, chunks of street and building flew past them cutting off their conversation. Hitoshi shot a glance at Midoriya to check on him, only to see wide green eyes staring up at something in the distance. Following his friend's gaze, he watched as a giant robot, the zero pointer if it’s size was any indication, made its way across the arena, lumbering through buildings and creating rubble wherever it went.

“Shinsou" Midoriya turned to look at Hitoshi as he spoke with uncharacteristic solemnity. 

“Whatever you’re planning,” Hitoshi sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose as he interrupted his friend. “I’m in, if only to make sure that you don’t die, ”

“Great!” Midoriya started to sprint towards the giant robot, like an idiot. Hitoshi took a second before he went right after his friend, sending prayers to all the deities he could think of. 

Why the hell was UA this extra?

Izuku was grinning, large and vicious as he flew through the streets, dodging rubble and saving people from flying shrapnel, finally free to touch people’s skin. He grabbed hands and arms and, oh god, was that one kid harassing a girl? Izuku squinted and then smacked the purple child right over the head, hauling him to safety, but also tossing him in an alleyway that would leave him confused when he woke up (It was the least he deserved after seemingly trying to feel up a girl who was distracted by the one pointer she was dealing with). Dusting off his hands, he nodded once and took back off right with Shinsou, continuing their rescuing and saving as they made their way towards the giant ass robot.

Quickly, they were able to reach the epicenter of destruction. Rubble surrounded them on all sides, blood and torn bits of clothing were underneath rocks and scattered about. The streets were desolate creating a deafening silence, that was pierced only by the horrendous screeching of metal joints that weren’t well oiled.  

“Hey, Midoriya?”

“Yeah Shinsou?”

“We came over here with the sole purpose of saving people, right?”

“Yeah…?”

“Well, it appears there aren’t any people here, which are necessary, I believe, in order to save them,” Shinsou pointed to the giant rocks and felled buildings around them. 

“You’d be accurate," Izuku whirled around when they heard the crunch of asphalt .

Whirling around, he looked up and right into the eyes of the cold unfeeling machine that had created most of the destruction with its rising. It’s gears ground, and the concrete was absolutely crushed beneath it’s foot (It really wasn’t shaped like a foot, but at this point it was at the bottom of the thing that robot stood on, so Izuku was gonna call it a foot until he was able to actually function on what his quirk qualified as a full night's sleep).

“I hate this damn school,” Shinsou grumbled, raising an accusing finger right at the top of the bot. “Why does everything have to be so large? First the archway, then the auditorium, and now THIS! WHY IS UA LIKE THIS? ANSWER ME!”

“Do I look like I understand the inner machinations of a megalomaniac animal with an intelligence quirk?” Izuku raised an eyebrow.

“I don’t know, I was just hoping for some explanation" Shinsou went off into a long tangent on that honestly, for as much as Izuku had a crush on the guy, was easy to ignore once he got an odd feeling that pulled at his stomach.

“Hey,” Izuku waved a hand right at his companion, cutting off the ranting and vigorous hand gestures. “Do you see anyone around here?”

“No, why?”

Shinsou cocked his head in a bird-like manner at Izuku, who was still feeling like someone was here, he just wasn’t sure where. After a few more moments though, his question was answered when a soft, wilting voice gave a slight cry from a couple yards in front of him. Eyes widening and stomach lurching, Izuku stumbled forward, Shinsou on his trail, towards the person trapped beneath a decent amount of rock and plaster.

“Hey, HEY!” Izuku yelled as he got closer. His eyebrows shot into his hair as he noticed the girl who had saved him from a rather unfortunate meeting with the ground and gravity pinned beneath a boulder the general size of a small car. “Can you breathe?”

The girl nodded once, taking a shuddering breath, before wincing again and slapping a hand over her mouth in an attempt to keep vomit back, if the greenness of her face was any indicator.

“Okay,” Izuku’s mind was racing rapidly, running through every injury he’d treated, either for himself, or for his older brother. “Can I see your ankle?”

“Ye-" She cut herself off again  in order to protect his outfit from the bile likely rising up.

“That’s good, take deep breaths, in through the nose, and out through the mouth,” Izuku carefully placed a hand on her back, straightening her up as well as he could before it would put strain on the ankle.

Examining the injured limb Izuku quickly realized that it was pinned badly and she would be lucky if even Recovery Girl could heal this in one go. It was a pretty nasty break, that he was pretty sure, if looked at more closely would be considered a shatter. Wincing he looked back up at the rock, and then towards Shinsou. They should be able to move the rock, but, according to the brutal destruction of the landscape about a hundred yards behind him, they wouldn’t have time. 

“Shit,” He muttered and looked at the girl again, her face was resigned, sickly green lining her eyes and mouth.

“I,” She gasps again, taking another precious moment to steady herself. “I think, I can, my quirk, anti gravity, I have just enough, left to, to make it a bit, bit lighter,”

Izuku smiled slightly and then gently nodded, looking up to Shinsou for confirmation. Receiving a sigh and shrug of his shoulders, Izuku moved towards the boulder, waiting for the girl to do whatever she could to assist them, and once Shinsou was on the other side, the girl slapped the rock once. The two then pulled upwards, the boulder launching into the sky comically.

“What, the actual hell?” Shinsou deadpanned, watching closely as the rock literally flew across the testing field.

Izuku, lightly stunned, nearly forgot about the girl until the sound of retching filled the air.

“Oh shit!” Shinsou and Izuku tore to the girl’s side and held back her hair as she continued to heave, breaths coming in shaking and shuddering moments. Unfortunately, this was also when the giant robot reminded them that it was still in existence and would crush them underneath its foot like grapes should they remain in place. 

“Oh shit ,” Izuku could never really catch a break could he?

“Why the-" More asphalt being torn into silenced the rest of Shinsous protests, and once again, gave the idea that if they didn’t get out now, they wouldn’t be getting out at all.

Hauling the girl up, Izuku decided to thank whatever gods were out there that he could touch people, and wrapped one of her arms around his shoulder, Shinsou taking the other side. They scurried off to the side, and watched in horror as the robot approached the spot where they’d been sitting just a few seconds ago. 

“TIMES UP!” A voice echoed through the entire arena, marking the final moments of the test. The robot screeched to a halt, foot hovering a few feet above their former residence.

“ARE YOU SHITTING ME?” Shinsou yelled, and Izuku, relieved and hysterical, broke into peals of laughter.

He’d better have gotten into this damn horror show of a school, if only for the emotional distress compensation.

Chapter Text

Izuku’s having a day.

So far, it’s not been bad, nor good, just been a day. However something’s been bugging him and for the life of him he can’t figure out what it is. 

Maybe it’s the sharp tugging sensations that appear and disappear so quickly he thinks he’s imagining them even as they occur. Maybe it’s the sun that’s just slightly too hot for this spar to be comfortable. Or maybe, it’s the constant ringing in his ears that’s beginning to overwhelm the roaring of Dabi’s fire as he trains to cool his flames so they might not always burn him.

Either way, it’s all culminating into one enormous issue that is going to ruin said day. 

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Izuku groans loudly. Loudly enough that Aizawa hears and begins to make his way over to him. Great, he didn’t want to draw attention to himself. Besides, it wasn’t that bad, honestly! (He was blatantly lying, but hey, what’s life without a few white lies?)

“Hey Problem Child,” Aizawa leaned back on the bench, keeping Izuku’s pseudo brother in his sights. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Izuku groans as yet another sharp tugging sensation occurs only to vanish just as suddenly. 

Aizawa raised an eyebrow in disbelief and then shot his gaze over to Dabi as his flames raced out of control and melted the poor car that sat a few feet away from them, scorching and turning sand to glass. The aquamarine fire vanished into thin air as Aizawa’s quirk activated, revealing a sheepish, but relieved Dabi. 

“Alright. I think that’s enough for the day,” Aizawa stood and stretched, popping his back and shoulders. “I don’t think the beach nor I can take much more of that at this rate,”

Izuku snorted. Aizawa had a point, considering all of the trails of glass and burnt sand that stretched across the surface, made from errant flames and other mistakes. (Izuku had once found a broken flamethrower and secretly rebuilt it. He was not to blame for the aftermath he swears ) Dabi laughed and then knelt down to pick up his mask from where he’d left it on the sidelines. “You got it old man,” 

Izuku’s eyebrows shot to his hairline.

“Excuse you,” Aizawa rolled his eyes. “I’m not that old. In fact I’m only five years older than you.”

“Whatever makes you feel less like the fossil you are,” Dabi murmured, finally falling into step with Izuku, who shot him a look that could only mean ‘I wish you good luck in whatever afterlife Aizawa sends you to.’ 

Dabi exhaled softly and then looked away, letting the rest of the possible argument go. Silently, Izuku congratulated him on the self preservation that he somehow manifested from whatever void was between his ears. It would serve him well if it didn’t vanish the minute they left the beach. 

Grinning, Izuku tossed his arms behind his head and whistled, determined to enjoy the quiet walk home. Sure, Izuku still got the occasional sharp pain, but they were fading and the heat wasn’t as oppressive as it was on the beach, with the light and heat being amplifying and reflecting off each grain of sand. 

Eventually, they passed an ice cream parlor, with screaming children and annoyed parents. A cat meowed from an alleyway, and Izuku had to pray that Aizawa hadn’t heard, so they wouldn’t end up housing another foster cat that Aizawa had picked up off the street. Mercifully the man didn’t and Izuku quietly thanked the elderly woman who did stop and give the cat some small treats from her bag. Next a couple discussing meeting family, and a dinner passed them. The woman bordered on hysterical and the man didn’t seem to be faring any better to Izuku’s amusement. (So he enjoyed a bit of schadenfreude, sue him) Finally they turned the corner onto the final block to the apartment. 

Unfortunately, a reckless driver chose this exact moment, to come speeding around the corner, taking a hard right and running a red light. Izuku’s eyes widened in horror, and his head split with the force of something making itself known. The driver hit the brakes, seeing that the car on their left was accelerating. It was too late though, and the cars t-boned. 

Glass bent, shattered, and cracked. Bystanders screamed, pulling children out of the way as one man was thrown through the windshield crumpling on the asphalt. Another person slammed into the side door as the window shattered open. Blood pooled around the broken body on asphalt and the windshield of the car with the green light was bloody and destroyed. 

The sickening scene that unfolded within seconds was silent, but then another scream of horror cut through the thick silence, shocking people into motion. People raced to the vehicles and others called the emergency line. A partoling hero stopped and worked to start a perimeter, only allowing those who could help through. 

Izuku, though, Izuku was on his knees, head aching, humming, and splitting all at once. 

Dark figures swam up, curing through his vision and obscuring the concrete beneath him. 

Crimson red fingers reached and snatched at the corners of his eyes. Pulling back at eyelids and eyelashes.

It was horrible awful, and he couldn’t hear, feel, or see anything at all . 

People continued to yell and Aizawa was in front of him helping the other hero, guiding people away from the wreck. Dabi was rubbing circles into his back, asking something, but Izuku still couldn’t hear. His head hummed and hummed and hummed, that terrible static filling all his senses. He scrubbed furiously at his temples, and pinched his nose, trying to soothe some of the pain, but it was to no avail.

Seconds ticked by, Izuku gripping his head and hair harder as if it was a life line. Minutes later and the pain still rushed, consuming everything around him. He just wanted the sharp stinging assault to go away,(please go away) so he kept massaging and poking at his head, praying that something would dull the vicious onslaught.

Eventually, the pain did die down, although some still clung on, murmuring at the front of his skull. Ever present, ever annoying .   

“Izuku, hey Izu, can you hear me?” Dabi’s voice finally carried through the ever present buzz in his head. 

“Ye-yeah,” Izuku groaned through gritted teeth. “I- I can,”

“Good, we’re gonna head home okay?” Dabi carefully pulled him up by the arm, not touching skin, which Izuku noted in passing, was probably because he wouldn’t be able to control his quirk in this state.

Izuku silently nodded, quietly hissing when he was upright, head swimming from its earlier accosting. Noticing this very uncharacteristic indication of pain, Dabi gently picked him up with one arm supporting his knees and the other carefully wrapped around his shoulders. Aizawa nodded as the pair left, mouthing a question that Izuku wasn’t able to decipher through the swirls and general twisting that his vision had become. (The black figures still held their spots, whirling and twirling with his vision. Whispering all of the horrible things one could imagine, whispering and hissing and whispering yet again.)

Dabi responded, chest rumbling, but his actual words were lost to the humming and pain lancing through his head. Izuku bit down on his tongue as they passed by the car, head pounding and stomach churning. It was worse by the ambulances that had finally arrived, the buzzing turning into roaring and the pain becoming nigh unbearable. (The whispering turned to screaming as they passed the woman beside the ambulance, holding the hand of the man who’d been thrown to the ground.)

Whimpering, Izuku pulled in on himself, clasping his hands together and gripping tightly. He jammed his thumbs into the meaty part of his palms, rubbing desperately, trying to avoid the pain. When that failed, and the migraine (what else could he call it at this point) continued, he gripped his arm tightly, digging his fingers into the flesh. 

This action brought some awareness back to him, at least to the point where the pain moved into his arm. Only when Dabi gently popped his fingers off of his arm with the hand under his shoulders, did he realize that he’d somehow torn through fabric and bit into the skin under. 

“Sorry,” Izuku murmured, head lolling back and allowing himself to zone out. 

The rest of the walk was a blur. Izuku knew they’d made it home, but beyond that? Nothing registered. He thinks he was set down on his bed, and the pain definitely receded, but a fog had settled and decided to stay. 

Distantly, he was aware of a hand on his shoulder and a coat that was draped around his shoulders. The hand became more grounding as it moved, applying more pressure to his shoulder. It became enough to ground him when it squeezed and Izuku blinked.

“-roblem child,” Aizawa’s voice cut like scissors through the haze that had made itself at home in his mind. “Problem child, can you hear me?” 

Izuku nodded, slowly, trying to regain control of his body which had sat numbly there while he’d zoned out. (The figures had faded. They had receded with the fog that had settled, attempting to avoid that numb).

“That’s good,” Dark eyes were molten soft as they stared at Izuku, who was still processing what had happened. “Are you okay?”

Izuku stared blankly and tried to contort his face into disbelief, which, he felt, failed. However, Aizawa knew him enough that he got the message and chuckled. “I mean physically, Izuku.”

His head jolted up. Aizawa rarely used Izuku’s first name, avoiding it whenever possible, trying not to make him feel like everything was moving too fast.

“Uh,” Izuku swallowed, licked his lips, and blinked. “I uh, broke skin on my- my left arm,”

“Alright,” Aizawa nodded and then moved to the first aid kit next to Izuku who had somehow not noticed it’s presence despite its proximity to his body. “Once this is done I have something I think you’ll like,”

Izuku shook his head and waited for Aizawa to wrap his arm before responding. “Oh yeah?”

Aizawa laughed gently again and then handed him an envelope that was on the dresser across from the bed. “Hizashi! Touya! He’s opening it!”

“HOLY SHIT! GIVE US MORE WARNING YOU ASSHOLE OF A HOBO!” Dabi yelled from what Izuku assumed was the main room. 

Thundering footsteps sounded from both ends of the house which all came together in a vicious bout of cussing as the two men slammed right into each other attempting to get in the door first. The two men toppled to the floor in a cursed mass. Blonde hair got caught in the god awful leather jacket Dabi wore, and the straps from that jacket got caught on the strappy leather pants Yamada wore. (Who said punk was dead? It’s actually just run into goth and gotten all mixed up. They’ll be ten minutes late, but hey! They’ll still be there.)

“Move your ass,” Dabi ground out as he shoved Yamada’s foot off of his stomach and worked the blonde strands out of the zipper of his leather jacket.

“You move your ass!” Yamada yelled as he untangled the ungodly amount of straps that both of them wore.

Izuku meanwhile, was cackling. Envelope and episode forgotten, he doubled over as the two continued to bicker and moan, lamenting about ruined hair and clothing. Aizawa simply sighed and collapsed onto the bed next to Izuku overdramatically questioning why he married a man in leather pants.

Once the commotion died down, they all surrounded Izuku. Dabi was directly behind Izuku, Aizawa was to his left, and Yamada sat on his right. Izuku questioned why they were even there, right up until he saw the mailing address.

It was from UA.

It had been a week which meant this was his acceptance or rejection letter.

Holy hell.

Eyes wide, Izuku opened the sealed letter, dumping out the contents into his lap. A small disk flopped into his lap. With tender hands, Izuku picked up the disk, and pressed the button on the front. It buzzed to life, blue light lit the room up and All Might’s figure appeared in his full glory.

“Whoah,” Izuku breathed, eyes fixed on the man in front of him. 

“YOUNG MIDORIYA!” All Might boomed, presence filling the room even though he wasn’t really there. “I AM HERE WITH YOUR RESULTS FOR THE TEST!!!”

His voice quieted and All Might took a slightly more relaxed pose than the one he appeared initially with. His arms crossed and his knees bent slightly. “Your written score was a little below average. However! This does not disqualify you!”

Dabi now, relaxed more, resting his head on top of Izukus. Quietly laughing to himself, Izuku patted Dabi’s spikey hair and then went back to paying attention to All Might. 

“Sadly though, your practical score of 32 was not enough to pass you into the hero course,”

Izuku straightened.

“YET!” All Might’s voice brightened again. “There was something else.”

At this point, All Might cuts off, and a grainy video begins to play. Uraraka, if Izuku remembers correctly, appears, gently opening a door that he assumes is an administrator’s room. Quietly she slips in and asks if she can give points to the plain, tired, green haired kid, and the tired, purple haired kid who saved her from the robot. Izuku watches, as Yamada smiles at her sadly, saying that it isn’t possible, but that she shouldn’t worry either way and gently ushers her out. The video ends there and All Might reappears for the second time. 

Izuku quickly makes eye contact with Yamada who simply shrugs and then motions back to the hologram, smiling slightly.

“That something else is what the judges were looking for; RESCUE POINTS!” All Might grins, large and beyond life. “You’ve inspired a young woman to give back, just like a true hero should! Thus, you have earned from this and other previous rescues 80 rescue points. This gives you 112 points in total.”

Izuku’s eyes widen and his vision becomes blurry as All Might takes a deep breath and Dabi stiffens in surprise behind him. Tears well up as All Might finally shouts those words that he’s always wanted to hear. Always wanted, behind the loathing and playful facade. After all, behind all the facades and masks, he was just a child. A child waiting for a dream that he’d never thought could come true.

“WELCOME TO YOUR HERO ACADEMIA!”

Chapter Text

Walking into the hero course’s 1-A classroom was not something that Hitoshi Shinsou thought that he’d ever manage. 

His plans in life had mostly centered around a lot of failure with just enough success in order to either get into the hero course or work at a hero agency. So to say that this success was suspiciously good news would be accurate. (When was the other shoe going to drop? Hitoshi was tired of waiting)

Midoriya walked beside him, also having gotten into class 1-A, a pencil twirling in his fingers, staring into the void as they approached the classroom. A minor shot of disbelief coursed through him as they stood outside the labeled door. Staring at the entrance to his literal dreams felt surreal on so many levels and Hitoshi really needed a moment to process that he’s actually here.

“Yo, are we going in or not?” Midoriya questioned, already stepping to get a grip on the handle.

“I mean,” Hitoshi shrugged. “I guess,”

Midoriya rolled his eyes and yanked the handle open. Once inside, Hitoshi found himself incredibly underwhelmed. For a school that seemed to over exaggerate literally everything about itself, he was expecting something a bit more than a stereotypical Japanese classroom. Maybe better desks at least. 

“Oh shit,” Midioryia muttered from in front, and when Hitoshi looked, he saw a blond kid with his feet knocked up on a desk. “Didn’t think that asshole would make it,”

As the feet lowered so the kid could keep yelling at what appeared to be the local squareman, Hitoshi recognized the face. One Bakugou Katsuki sat second from the front on the window side. His face was abnormally red and his eyes squinted in rage as he threw out crude insult after insult towards four-eyes. (Who, Hitoshi recognized later, was the dick who yelled at them during the physical portion of the test. He feels marginally less bad about the kid's eardrums after that.) 

“Hey Midoriya, oh shit is an understatement and asshole completely undersells his attitude,”

At this Midoriya paused, looked up, and made a face at Hitoshi, which while immature, Hitoshi also returned. “What else would you call him?”

Hitoshi relaxed his face only to put up an eyebrow. “Do you want the alphabetized list, or the one that goes from most to least insulting?”

Midoriya snorted, keeping his head down as he moved to sit at the desk which had his name plastered on it. Unfortunately, it happened to be right behind Bakugou meaning that any interaction was going to end up in flames. Luckily, Hitoshi sat right behind Midoriya meaning that he could run either damage control or for a fire extinguisher faster than anyone else. So that was a plus, as much of one as imminent doom can be.

“HAH WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO ABOUT IT FOUR EYES!?”

Oh, great. The Piece of Shit (yes Hitoshi meant that as in all caps. This kid was awful, if not the attitude, the volume. Was he Yamada’s cousin or some shit like that?)  managed to break down the normal fuzz that filtered idiocy. Midoriya was curling into himself, very obviously trying to avoid being a target while keeping out the noise that was increasing to a frankly absurd volume.

“Hey dipshit,” Hitoshi spat, finally getting fed up. “Shut up or sit down. You can’t be loud and an asshole. Pick a struggle,”

“Was I talking to you?” Bakugou hissed, twisting around to stare at Hitoshi, somehow completely missing the kid he’d tormented no less than a year ago.

“No, but for the love of god you’re gonna blow someone’s eardrums out,” Hitoshi sank back into the chair, glaring.

Bakugou stood up, but then finally noticed the kid with his head down seemingly trying to sleep. He reeled back and sneered in befuddlement. “Deku, the hell are you doing here?”

“Getting an education, hopefully,” Midoriya mumbled, very obviously not wanting to be here at all. 

Not knowing what to say to that Bakugou stumbled back and slammed a hand down on Midoriya’s desk. Midoriya just looked up for a few seconds, and then set his head right back down while flipping Bakugou off.

Bakugou was fuming now and Hitoshi wouldn’t be surprised if he figured out how to make explosions from his ears at that moment. However, right as he was about to speak, a brown haired blurr shoved right past him and stood in front facing Midoriya and Hitoshi.

Smiling she spoke instead “Hi, I’m Uraraka Ochaco. The girl you saved from that robot! I’m glad to see you two made it into the hero course!”

“OI! Round cheeks, get out the way,” Bakugou leered over her attempting to intimidate. “We were talking,”

“Oh!” She clapped her hands together and then smiled, light not reaching her eyes. “I wasn’t sure because normally people when having discussions -y’know the thing where two talk to each other back and forth civilly- don’t slam their hands down on the other person’s desk, damaging it,”

Hitoshi’s eyes widened while he whistled and clapped slowly. “You, I like you,”

Uraraka turned back around and bowed with a flourish. Midoriya’s shoulders were shaking. Initially Hitoshi was a bit confused until he heard tiny squeaks coming out of the makeshift hideyhole. Blinking, he realized that Midoriya laughed like a kitten. 

That had no right to be as adorable as it was. 

Uraraka seemed to have the same thought because after making brief eye contact with Hitoshi she too started giggling. This cycle eventually infected Hitoshi and soon all three of them were laughing like they’d been friends for years rather than trauma bonded over a giant robot nearly crushing them. It was nice, and something that Hitoshi had never had before.

Bakugou in turn looked ready to explode. Hitoshi doubted he’d ever been ignored before, let alone told off by a girl nearly twenty centimeters shorter than he was. His eye was twitching and his hands were jittering. It was almost funnier than that time Midoriya had walked into a pole even though he saw it coming but was simply too lazy to move. 

“H-" Bakugou’s imminent rage was cut off by the slamming of a door as one Touya Todoroki walked in, decked out in, obnoxious hero costume and all. 

“Welcome children who are slightly smaller than I,” He began, arms resting on the podium in the front of the class, mask showing a very fake, very cheery smile that Hitoshi had no doubt was reflected underneath. “Your actual teacher, for I am just a student at the foot of the master, wishes that you would hurry your little asses up and go get changed for a quirk assessment,”

The class was silent until a kid who was all pink raised her hand. Nodding at her, Touya waved a hand in expectation when she didn’t immediately speak. “Go on,” 

“First, who are you, and second what about orientation?”

Touya’s mask lit up with the words “HA HA HA” plastered on it in bright LEDs like from one of those pre quirk comic books. “Oh, I’m Dabi, student teacher, student hero, and former horrible human being. As for orientation, that’s, and I’m quoting here, Nezu’s bullshit excuse to intimidate students and class 1-A should be better than that,” 

Midoriya choked on his own spit and Hitoshi had to hold a hand over his entire face so he wouldn’t be seen laughing. Uraraka, from where she’d taken her seat when Dabi came in, covered her mouth as she bent over her desk, small puffs of air escaping. The rest of the class was varying stages of hiding laughter. Some had given up while others were nearly turning blue in their seats.

The only kid who wasn’t in hysterics was the one with the burn scar, although considering who Hitoshi thought that was, it wasn’t that surprising. Living with the equivalent of a flaming garbage pile for your parentage must really screw with your personality. (This wasn’t to say that Hitoshi didn’t appreciate the fact that Endeavor saved people, he’d just like it to be noted that it’s highly unlikely that Endeavor was doing it because he’s actually a good person.)

“Alright gremlins,” Dabi stood and cracked his neck. “Time to get going, locker rooms on the first floor and then just follow the door you didn’t come through to the training field. Also, you might wanna hurry cause he wants you out there in oh! He wanted you there about three minutes ago, sorry for the delay!”

Then, like the coward he was, Dabi ran right for the door and out in the hallway to avoid the students' wrath. The classroom he’d left behind was silent for approximately three seconds before complete pandemonium broke out. Kids raced to the door, jamming it. Bakugou was one of the first out of his seat and so got lucky getting out early, but the rest were sandwiched in the doorframe. They shoved at each other harshly attempting to get out as quickly as the halls would allow.

Hitoshi began to get up, resigning himself to the fate of being late until Midoriya started chuckling. Turning, Hitoshi squinted and mentally prepared himself for whatever bullshit was going to be pulled next. The shouting and yelling faded away as Hitoshi watched Midoriya climb out a window and climb down. 

As Midoriya scales down the wall like a demented version of that one vigilante Crawler, it reminds Hitoshi of the wonderful question always at the back of his mind; what the hell is this kid on? (This is not the first nor will it be the last time Hitoshi questions Midoriya’s sanity and problem solving skills which seem to be inexorably linked.) Still, it was a plan that would get them there faster than anything else. So Hitoshi did what he did best, repress the questions and move on to a better and brighter future where he’s not expelled by his best friend’s adoptive father for being late.

Taking off his tie and making sure everyone else wasn’t paying attention, Hitoshi gripped it in his mouth and hopped backwards in the window frame and dropped onto the brick beneath. It was surprisingly easy to scale which made Hitoshi wonder how many people had done this. Either that or the sadistic mammal thing that called himself principal made it this way. Hitoshi wouldn’t put it past him.

Once he reached the bottom, Midoriya grabbed his hand and they shot off like bolts to the front entrance. Skidding to a halt, they ricochet into the doors and down the hallways, dodging older students like a rip off version of Crossy Road. In the end, it took them about three minutes to get there, another minute to change, and then finally two more to get to the training field. 

When they arrived, Aizawa raised an eyebrow at them and then patiently tapped his foot waiting for the rest. Dabi stood by his side, mask showing nothing more than a shit eating grin. Hitoshi glared, and in response only felt smugness radiate off of the assistant teacher. Disgusting. 

The rest of the class eventually filed in, some panting and some looking like they were getting ready to murder the asshole in a mask. (Hitoshi felt that, but he wouldn’t assist, he liked Midoriya too much to remove his codependent brother)

“So I see you all made it,” Aizawa nodded and then rubbed the bridge of his eyes. “Ten minutes late, but you made it,”

“It was his fuc-" Bakugou began, growling and pointing.

“I know,” Dabi’s mask lit up again with its obnoxious ass laughter as Aizawa sighed. (Muder is illegal, Hitoshi thought to himself. Muder is illegal but damn if this man was making it hard to think it wasn’t worth it.) “And that’s his fault. I will be suitably punishing him for this offense, minor though it may be.”

The obnoxious laughter cut off to a black screen and Dabi raised a hand to his chest, offended. “Aizawa, how could you! I thought we agreed on this!”

“We agree on nothing and I have a class to teach now,” Aizawa deadpanned, turning back to the rest of them who’d been following the conversation a bit bemused. 

“We’re going to take a quirk apprehension test today. It will be very similar to that of the ones you took in middle school, only now, you’re allowed to use your quirk,” He turned and grabbed a ball from the side of the yard. “Bakugou, what was your farthest throw before?”

“Sixty-seven meters”

Aizawa nodded, and motioned to have him stand in the circle. “What you’re going to do is stand here, use your quirk, and not exit the circle to throw the ball as far as you can,”

A feral grin lit up Bakugou’s face and Hitoshi wanted to bury his face in his hands. Sure, let’s just give the wanna-be demolition crew free reign to bust their eardrums out. So, in fear of getting UA sued, Hitoshi stood up and yelled a warning.

“Yo, y’all might want to cover your ears,”

Midoriya and Ochako followed Hitoshis warning the instant it was out of their mouth with the rest of the class quickly following suit. He then turned around and looked at Aizawa who had an eyebrow raised, but had also covered his ears. 

Now, tossing the ball a few times, Bakugou wound up, and with a yell that would make Yamada weep , exploded the backend of the ball. The concussive force from the blast was enough to blow Aizawa’s hair from his face and turn Dabi’s mask ajar. Stunned, Hitoshi very carefully removed his hands from the sides of his face and smiled as Aizawa shook his head, and carefully read out the measurements.

“Seven hundred and five meters.”

Grinning, Bakugou returned to the rest of the class, who were humming with excitement. Someone with red hair slapped his back and told him how manly he was and a girl in pink was jumping up and down. 

Then, from the ashes, someone sealed their doom.

“This is gonna be so much fun!”

Hitoshi groaned and Midoriya froze where he stood, both of them realizing that this was not going to end well.

Touya would like it noted that seeing your baby brother for the first time in nearly a decade after severe neglect and abuse is not the way to go about exposure therapy. In fact, the only thing it really did, was launch him back to his childhood where he’d only known hatred . A hatred so strong that it had nearly made him immolate the very people he’d wanted to protect. The very people who’d cast him aside like an old toy.

Sure he’d given that one detective the truth when they’d asked. Touya had protected his younger brother and he had wanted to get his mom’s attention, but he’d just kept some things omitted. Things that would make people think less of him.

For example, there was a time, long ago (not really), when he’d planned his little brother’s execution. It would have to be public and with their father right in front of them. Shoto would scream, but it would be okay because their dad would finally get his dues. Dabi would take away the heir to the throne, the perfect child, and show the world the cruelty that was their precious number two hero.

It would be brutal, it would be quick, and Dabi honestly didn’t expect to survive it. 

If he was being honest, Touya thought, as he stared out at the children who were lining up. As he stared at his brother(s). Izuku hadn’t changed that. At least, not at first.

Touya hadn’t had a sudden epiphany or some shit, when a broken child had come walking in. There hadn’t been any brotherly instincts that reared their head and showed him he wasn’t as awful as he thought. In fact, when he’d offered the kid the deal of staying, he’d thought Izuku would die and Dabi would be able to move on right after. And If Izuku didn’t he’d have extra food and could get rid of the kid when it was the right time.

However, it turned out that Izuku was a cockroach, impossible to kill and would live in your house like a pest. He babbled about inane things and was just there. Izuku would poke and prod and analyze you to hell and back. 

So, a year into living with Izuku, Touya had known that the kid could tell he thought they weren’t friends. Instead of being a rational person and accepting this though. The child made it his mission to befriend him. Izuku brought up stupid topics and asked questions and generally forced him in to a pleasent conversation for the first time in years.

Izuku soothed the hatred that he’d had. Izuku praised certain heroes and slammed Endeavor. Izuku showed him the ways that people had taken out heroes without harming others, and what happened to the heroes who had been exposed when they’d been killed (How the hell Izuku knew anything about his plan was beyond Touya even now). 

Izuku would grin and point out underground heroes who comforted people after crimes had been committed against them. Izuku would smile at daytime heroes who would stop people who looked sad and talk to them to cheer them up. Izuku would laugh as children, children with no training, would pull at adults who passed them and hand out compliments. Izuku began to show him the world worked with just as much good as it did bad.

Then, on that fateful night when Touya had finally spilled his story, including the awful thoughts he’d had at night of how easy lighting his little brother up would be, he’d been accepted. Izuku asked if he planned on doing it now, if he would be able to do it right then and there, if Shoto and Enji showed up magically on the spot. And for the first time ever, Touya thought that he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t do it to the brother that, he now realized, had just as little control over their parents as he had. 

He’d, without knowing it, started to see his brother as a person again, started to see people as human again and not just pawns in a revenge game against his father. 

Izuku bent down then, smiled and told him that thoughts don’t define people, only their actions do. Telling him, in no uncertain words, that if he had gone through with his plans, that if he had continued down that path, Izuku would have dropped Touya and left. Wide eyed, Touya had asked him what Izuku would have done if he’d gotten angry enough and attacked him. Izuku had simply laughed and told him that Touya would never win that fight. And that was it. It was over. Tuoya hadn’t had that swelling feeling of drowning in an emotion other than worry in years . 

That was, until now. Touya was stunned at how much damn rage he felt at seeing his stoic biological younger brother. Whether it was for their father or for the boy himself it didn’t seem to matter, Touya -no- Dabi felt himself heat up, mind racing with ideas and formerly half baked plans. Carefully, he tore away his eyes, looking towards Izuku, who was currently making eye contact with him. 

The boy cocked his head, grinned softly, and then mouthed something that resembled look at me .

Instantly Touya understood. Shoto was a piece of his past that he couldn’t face yet, and so, he’d need to root himself in the present in order to get past it and to the place where he eventually could. 

So he watched Izuku. Watched as Aizawa explained the rest of the test and threatened expulsion. Watched as Izuku knocked people out to give himself a head start. Watched as he high fived Shinsou at the end of each race, both of them manipulating others to their advantage. Watched, as his adopted little brother, the person who had helped him feel human again, came in third place. Only a few points behind his biological brother.

Touya, finally feeling a bit more human, clapped and let his mask light up in a grin for these kids with lofty aspirations. Yeah, this was going to be a good class.

Shouta was impressed with these students. They’d managed to use their quirks accurately and effectively. So he was willing to be their teacher, guiding them to the future.

“And with those results in,” The invisible girl shifted in her gym uniform, obviously fearing his next words. “I can reveal that it was all a logical ruse. None of you are getting expelled,”

The class burst out into cacophony. Yells and shouts of unfair treatment soared, but what really concerned him was the fact that Bakugou was silent. The kid that had been yelling the entire time had gone quiet, and calm before the storm had never felt more applicable than now. So when the class finally settled down and Yaoyorozu had said her piece, accurately guessing his intentions, he wasn’t shocked when Bakugou had his final outburst.

“Oi, Deku what the hell makes you think you deserve to be here?”

The class's minor whispers fell into a dead silence, like a void had swallowed them whole. Touya stiffened next to him, fingers twitching.

“Deserve?” Midoriya was using that false bravado again. “I don’t know what the fuck you mean. I passed this exam with my own two hands,”

Bakugou twitched, and then launched himself at Midoriya, swearing and cursing. Shouta couldn’t move fast enough. Within seconds, his capture weapon was sailing through the air, wrapping around Bakugou’s chest, chaining his hands to his side. Dabi, in the meantime, had raced to his brother’s side, stepping right between the two palms up and smoking slightly. 

“What’s this about?” Shouta asked, even though he definitely already knew what this was about.

“That, that, scum bastard , can only ever fucking think about himself. Just wait until that shit abandons all of you when things get too tough for him. What a fucking dipshit,” Bakugou was straining against the cloth, seemingly ignoring the man in front of him for the child behind. 

Said child was also being held back by Shinsou, eyes glowing a brilliant amethyst (and ohhh boy wasn’t that a new one). The area around them had gotten chilled by at least a few degrees like what happened in the police station and suddenly Shouta was very glad that they’d reacted as quickly as they had. A repeat of that event wouldn’t be good in favor of Midoriya. 

“And what makes you think that?” Aizawa squinted, trying to see Bakugou’s play. “A person justifiably running from a problem out of their control?”

Bakugou went limp for a second, and then stood up again, walking back to the class. Shouta let him go, trusting that Dabi would be able to handle it if the kid went charging again. However, the child did have one last thing to say.

“I don’t know how you convinced them that you were worth saving, but whatever it was I hope they’re let down exactly how I was all those fucking years ago,”

Great, Shouta sighed. This was going to be a fun year he decided as the class began to whisper amongst themselves, deciding which side to take. 

Fun, yeah right.

Chapter Text

Izuku did not know when his life had turned into a horrible soap opera, but he’d like to have words with whatever higher power decided this was smart. It was only the second day of school and he was going to get sent to the principal's office for putting his entire class to sleep and then taking a nap himself. He, if sleep was even possible, swears it on his grave . 

“Ayyy Midoriya” A voice came from the door, cutting through inane chatter and even worse interrogations.

Izuku popped his head up from his arms long enough to cast a very desperate look towards the only friend who cared about him. ‘ Please,’ he begged in his mind, desperately hoping to develop telepathy in the next thirty seconds. ‘ Save me .’ 

Any thoughts of being saved were then promptly destroyed as Shinsou simply sat down behind him and snickered as he was continually bombarded with questions about Bakugou , and what he meant. Followed by questions about his sanity and even worse, questions about his quirk.

Izuku on the best of days didn’t like talking about his quirk, even if he has gotten better about it over the past year. His bad days though were awful. They contained coats, scarves, masks, and never holding onto someone for more than was required. Those days his quirk was barely ever mentioned. 

However, he digresses. People continued to amass around him, even as he buried his head into his arms more. They wouldn’t leave him alone and holy shit suspension was sounding better by the moment. Send him to Nezu now, it might end up saving a few of these fools. 

A door slams right as he debates just getting it over with, revealing one Uraraka Ochako. Pausing and then with a glance at the mob surrounding him, she vaults over the two rows of desks between them and marches straight into the thick of it. Once Uraraka makes it to the center, she looks around and then glares with all that her stature is worth. Which is to say, a lot.

“Well, what are you? Gossiping grannies?” She spits, feet spread wide and arms crossed. “He obviously doesn't want to talk, so why are you pressuring him? Be better, All Might would be ashamed, ”

As Uraraka voiced that last sentence, people flinched back like she was slapping them. Recoiling away from her words. Eventually, the bell rang and Uraraka gave one last, piercing glare before returning to her desk. Once sat down she winked at him and turned towards the front of the classroom.

For the second time that day, the door was opened rather aggressively. Entering through the door, is Aizawa, looking normal, but with shoulders slightly tensed. Something was up. Specifically in a way Aizawa either didn’t want it to go or wasn’t going to be able to predict. Great signs everybody. The most laid back person you know is stressed about something for once. 

Izuku groaned into his arm for what was to come, and Shinsou, discreetly as he could be, patted his back in sympathy. Continuing to stare at Aizawa as he finished attendance, Izuku debated the merits of jumping out the window. However, the clouds of doom that were a few miles out and rapidly approaching made the concept much less appealing. 

So with that escape route gone, and the other exit being the door to the classroom, meaning it wasn’t viable at all, escape was nonexistent. It would seem that he was doomed to suffer through whatever was about to come through that door that had Aizawa backing up and grabbing his sleeping bag.

“I" A familiar voice began from the other side of the door. “AM COMING THROUGH THE DOOR LIKE A NORMAL PERSON!” 

‘Oh shit, that’s All Might’ was Izuku’s only thought as the door literally flew open from the force of All Might’s kick. He was dressed in his silver age costume, creepy for Izuku to know on sight, but also information that absolutely wrecked the hero nerd in him. 

The class exploded into raucous noise. People yelling out and even a couple looking a bit faint. Which was reasonable and something Izuku too would have done had he not already met the man. Still, All Might was talking and Izuku was not listening. Not a great start.

“Today I will be teaching you all,” Were, Izuku squinted, those notecards? What the hell? “In Grounds B! Please grab your hero costumes and meet me there!”

The class, in response to the abrupt dismissal, got up, and made their way to the lockers where their uniforms were stored. Izuku was not thrilled by the concept of changing around other kids, but hey, might as well suffer now than be asked worse questions at a later date.

“Yoooo,” Came an oddly cheerful voice. “Midoriya right? You’ve got some pretty manly scars!”

Izuku turned mid change and raised an eyebrow, “Manly?”

“Yeah you’ve got to have survived some nasty stuff to have rad scars like that,” The kid who was speaking had fire-truck red hair that was stuck up like someone had nailed him with a taser and forgot to ground him. There was also a small scar on his eyebrow, but it was barely noticeable, likely an accident of some kind.

“You could say that” Izuku finished pulling the kevlar over his head and carefully tested the gloves by quickly extending his fingers, revealing the tips of his fingers, and then doing the same motion again to close them. “I’d argue they were more from dumbass mistakes, but I’ll take the compliment,” 

The redhead grinned and then stuck out his hand, “I’m Kirishima Ejiro, and if I remember correctly, it’s Midoriya Izuku, right?”

“That’d be correct,” The rest of the locker room seemed to be holding their breath, waiting for something to happen. God, was he really that untrustworthy? 

He took Kirishima’s hand and shook it gently. Glancing around to make sure that Bakugou or someone equally inclined to violence wasn’t going to jump him. 

“Awesome!” Kirishima retracted his hand and then looked around at all the dumbfounded faces. “What? I doubt he’s gonna bite. Bakugou may be manly, but he seems like the type of person to explode at any minute. He was probably using like hyperbole,” 

“Yeah, but they’ve apparently known each other for a while,,” Somebody spoke up, their voice tinged with uncertainty. “That’s like, gotta count for something? Can we really trust him?”

“ Bakugou grossly exaggerated. I’m not about to leave a civilian because I’m too scared ,” Midoriya scoffed. “I don’t do that type of shit,”

Kirishima grinned and nodded once sharply. “See what I mean? Can’t always trust news that doesn’t come from the horse's mouth, or however that English saying goes. I’m going to trust him until proven otherwise,”

“Yeah, I guess,” The kid with the lighting bolt in his hair moved away. 

Izuku looked around and saw that a lot of the other boys had looked away at the reminder, going back to getting ready. Bakugou had been strangely quiet, which didn’t bode well for later, but that was a problem for the future. Shinsou’s locker was on the opposite side of the room, but a quick nod told Izuku everything was fine on his end.

Kirishima, in turn, grinned at him and then went back to what he was doing before. Izuku had no clue on what that meant, but he’ll take it. At least it wasn’t brutal scorn and murder attempts. It was a step, hopefully, in the right direction and Izuku would be damned to deny it. 

Now, onto whatever the hell was next.

Dabi had mixed feelings about assistant teaching to both his younger brothers. On one hand, free observation and making sure they don’t get hurt doing something dumb. On the other, deep unresolved trauma that he should probably get looked at for. 

It also didn’t help that All Might was attempting to talk to him. 

“Young Dabi! What do you think of my plan?” All Might inquired with that casual confidence that came with being the strongest person in a room at any time.

“Honestly?” Dabi’s mask deadpanned and quirked an eyebrow. 

“As honestly as you can give it to me,” 

“This is, objectively, a horrible idea. Someone is bound to get killed and if we survive this, I will pay you to never do it again,” Dabi knew that the continuation of this exercise wasn’t going to end well. In fact, he’d lay money that at least a third of the class was going to the infirmary. Fun.

“I don’t think it will come to that,” All Might waved off his concerns exactly like Dabi thought he would. “These seem like good kids with restraint,”

At those words, Dabi was launched back to the meeting All Might had with Aizawa that effectively boiled down to ‘please don’t traumatize the children or maim them’. Damn, he was going to need to send a flower basket, maybe even an edible arrangement, to Recovery Girl after this. 

“If you say so,” Dabi sighed and turned towards the doorway as children started to trickle in. 

Each one entered and Dabi ticked off attendance from the list he’d memorized. While he was monitoring them though, he realized that the costumes were a bit less than desirable. 

Dabi knew he wasn’t the pinnacle of fashion, Midnight looked like she wanted to steal his first born son every time he walked into a room, but even he could see that some of these hero outfits were, well, not great. 

Uraraka was in heels and Dabi had no clue why. Yaoyourozu’s quirk required skin to use, but Dabi was pretty sure that velcro would make a wonderful addition. Otherwise that uniform was just a glorified bikini. Then there was whatever Kirishima was wearing. Dabi understood the fact that his quirk could harden his skin, but no shirt wasn’t going to fly and those gears weren’t useful for hand-to-hand combat. Dabi was going to send some very politely worded emails (read threats) to the support division for these monstrosities. 

The last of the class entered, with Shinsou and Izuku at the back. Their outfits at least, seemed reasonable. 

Izuku was in a deep gray, almost black jumpsuit. It had black gloves that reached up to his biceps. Dimmed LEDS glowed slightly around the top in green and purple. A black hood and a deep purple face mask gave him the appearance of those stereotypical ninjas. Then, he had a green holster of blunted knives and various needles as well as a belt made of loose gray capture tape around his waist. His black boots reached his knees and connected to deep green holsters containing medical supplies on his thighs. In all, a fine outfit for an underground hero.

Shinsou was similarly in a jumpsuit, but the capture weapon was wrapped around his neck instead of waist. He also had a black voice modulator with purple accents and no hood. His purple hair was tied into an incredibly short ponytail, and a thin pair of purple-tinted glasses covered his eyes. His pants were the usual cargo, and the boots were combat style. 

So yeah, much better for actual work than what half this class was wearing. Dabi got aesthetics, lived them even, but to sit here and pretend that something like a thin ass spandex suit was going to protect any of these kids was like asking All Might to teach. Possible, but it was only going to end in blood. 

“Today we will be a battle trial” All Might’s continuous supply of notecards slipping through his fingers as he explained the challenge to these woefully underprepared students. “You will be split into teams of heroes and villains! The villains will have approximately five minutes to set up their nuclear device, actually made of paper mache, while the heroes plan the villains capture. You can either capture both villains with this specially made tape, or get to the nuclear device within ten minutes! The villains will win even if one of their team ends up incappacitated as long as the heroes haven’t touched the bomb. Any questions?”

A rippling of murmuring took over the group. Of the few complaints Dabi could make out, the kids brought up valid points of not having the training necessary for this and also being unsure of what would happen to the structure should some people (there were a few pointed looks at Bakugou and Todoroki) get out of hand. 

Finally, one brave soul, Yaoyourozu, asked the question that everyone was thinking. “Sir, are you sure that this is an appropriate exercise for our first trial?”

Ah the refreshing wave of common sense. Dabi’s glad someone in this class has it, because judging by Kirishima’s determined look, Bakugou’s feral glee, and Kamanari’s blatant hopping, they’re in short supply.

“I assure you young Yaoyourozu, Dabi and I will be here should anything go wrong!” All Might joyfully reassured the rightfully concerned teen.

Wow, what a stunning display of misplaced confidence. Dabi, even at full strength, would not be able to wrestle Sato or Ojiro down at all and even All Might would have trouble with Iida. Has he already said that this is going to go horribly wrong?

“With that! Let's get you all into teams!” All Might clapped his hands and began pulling sticks from a cup. What was this? Kindergarten?

As the teams were named, Dabi gauged reactions. Some people, like Uraraka and Ojiro were blatantly relieved by their teammates, while others like Iida and Shoji seemed skeptical. However most just seemed curious. All good signs, however Dabi was much more concerned about who would go against who. That’s where the personalities would really shine.

When Dabi had taken his late probationary licensure exam about a month before he started his assistant teaching tenure, there were plenty of people who acted kind at first glance. Once they’d been thrust into a backing role though, rescuing people and coordinating with the fake police, people’s colors began to change. Droves of them suddenly gave up, citing unrealistic expectations of hero society. It got even worse when they were actually made to go up against heroes acting as villains, so strong it forced them to work together. 

So sue Dabi for being curious if any of these kids would end up being the same. 

“Now, it’s time to match up and get you all into gear!” All Might clicked a single button and the matches lit up the TV. 

Silence rang out. This was actually far beyond bad. Time to raise that probable, to assured murder because Bakugou and Izuku were going to take off each others heads. Now, who would go out first was up for debate, but one of them was not going to make it out of this. 

Apparently, the rest of the class agreed because there were some very concerned gestures towards those two. Uraraka looked a few seconds away from finishing this before it even started. 

Carefully flexing a hand, Dabi settled in and steeled his mind for when he inevitably had to bust through a building to save a child who is not prepared for what lies ahead.

Chapter Text

As Izuku stared across the room at Bakugou, he had two sudden realizations. First, one of them was going out of this in a body bag and second, it wasn’t going to be him. Izuku had worked so fucking hard to get so fucking close. He wasn’t going to let one explosion happy fucker take this chance away from him.

So Izuku was going to plan, and Izuku was going to crush Bakugou so hard he’d have no choice but to concede victory. Hopefully that would also make the overzealous chihuahua give him a little space as well. 

Standards aren’t exactly high right now. 

“Well,” Came Uraraka’s steady voice from next to him, a glint in her eyes that spoke of mischief and more than a little anger. “How are we going to wreck them?”

Izuku smiled at Uraraka with a few too many teeth and sharp edges. It was a relief to see that someone had faith in him in this match. Now all it would take is a solid course of action with a couple back-up plans and they’d be set. Probably.

“Bakugou, without a doubt, has never heard the word teamwork in his life. Iida’s going to be left to defend the bomb while Bakugou attacks like a rabid dog. We just need to take advantage of that somehow,” Izuku fiddled with the mask that covered the lower half of his face, carefully running his fingers along the edges.

“What if,” Uraraka paused as a very obvious moment of insight came to her, eyes widening and grin tempering into something a little more knife-like. “You don't enter the building on the bottom floor?”

Izuku stopped, looked up, and motioned for her to continue.

“Bakugou is likely going to be hunting the bottom floors since that’s where he expects us to be. Which means that Iida is going to bring the bomb to the top floors to protect it from being harmed in the crossfire when Bakugou inevitably finds you,” Uraraka trailed off contemplating something, finger held up to her lips. “I’m not sure though, how we’d get to the top of the building and go in from there though. I don’t think my quirk can carry both of us the distance up,”

Izuku, one step ahead and already loving this thought process, finished the thought. “Can you float yourself and my capture weapon up to the roof? It would solve the weight limit and I have the strength to pull you up,”

When Uraraka grinned, a glint in her eye and a pep in her step, Izuku was answered. Someone had made the mistake of giving him a partner as inclined to destruction as he was. Bakugou, hopefully, was the only one who would suffer for it though. 

So, when the bell rang and All Might started the lesson, they maneuvered their way around the building. Silently Uraraka brought her hands up, tapping Izuku once so that he would float right on up the side. Once he arrived at the top most floor, he looked into a window. Sure enough, Iida was sitting right by the bomb, ranting and raving about destroying the world. Or something like that. Method acting thy name was, apparently, Iida Tenya.

Casting his gaze back to the ground, Izuku waved for Uraraka to raise him to the roof. He rose just high enough that he could get his feet onto the ledge. Once there, he flipped upside down in a feat of core strength, and hooked onto it upside down. Carefully, he hoisted himself over the ledge and finally managed to find himself on the roof.

It seemed that Uraraka had seen Izuku’s success and let gravity reconstrain him as he flopped onto the ground unceremoniously from where he’d once been floating. Allowing himself a moment to reorient, Izuku squinted up at the sky that was very blue and wow, Izuku was mildly nauseous. He really did not expect that consequence, but here it was. Maybe if he just took a deep breath in? Oh no that was a bad idea, Izuku was dying, and his friend’s quirk was going to take him out.

“Damnit, focus. If we’re going to throw up, we’re projectile vomiting on Bakugou’s fucking boots ,” Izuku murmured as he tried to sit up, lost his stomach for a second, and then regained all his faculties at once.

Deciding this was as settled as he was going to get, Izuku quickly anchored his capture rope with his body weight and began reeling it down towards Uraraka. Looking over, he watched as she grabbed the bottom, and hooked her feet through the loop that he’d made. Once she gave him a thumbs up, he began to haul her upwards. Slowly but surely Uraraka made her way up, looking through all the windows the same way he had. 

When Uraraka made it to the top, the look on her face nearly sent Izuku over the edge of the roof again. It was a facial expression that contained raw disgust, but also had a hint of awe around the edges. As if she’d witnessed something just on the wrong side of inspiring.

Which, of course, considering what she’d passed, Izuku would have to agree with.

“So, Iida right?” Izuku grinned, as he reeled the capture weapon back in, carefully maneuvering it over his head and back around his waist. 

Uraraka shook her head out and stretched for a second. “I don’t know how he could make blowing up a building sound cheesy and wildly out of date, but he somehow managed it,”

Izuku just continued to chuckle as they opened up the door that led from the roof back into the building. It was rusted and obviously not used, but Izuku was just thankful it didn’t squeak. Knowing his luck Bakugou would somehow gain the ears of a dog and hear it from eight fucking floors below. 

Carefully Izuku nodded to Uraraka once they got to the first fork in the road and she hefted a few stones down one of the paths, low enough not to be seen, but central enough that they’d be able to tell if someone were walking down it. After a couple of seconds of silence, Uraraka released her powers and then jerked her head towards the path to the next flight of stairs down. 

They continued to creep down abandoned stairwells and, frankly terrifying, corridors. If Izuku didn’t know any better he’d say they’d gotten stuck in a liminal space and were just waiting for the next monster to devour them whole. Which was a rather concerning thought, honestly. Where the hell did that come from? 

Ah, Izuku heard footsteps and had the sudden realization, they were being hunted by something, just not by a monster. Rather it was another boy who had a monstrous temper. Sardonically Izuku tilted his head up, letting his hood fall backwards and began grinning. They’d made it farther than what Izuku had expected, but he guesses his time is up. His number is due or whatever. 

“Uraraka,” He hisses, pulling her back around the corner, gently placing his feet so they were utterly silent. “As you can hear we’ve got a problem. Bakugou is coming this way and both of aren’t getting past him,”

Uraraka grimaced and carefully peaked out, checking the time they had by the echoing of a heavy gait. “So what you’re saying is you’re about to do something really stupid that a normal hero wouldn’t get away with?”

Izuku snorted as he carefully checked over all his support equipment. Knives were blunted and in place, needles had been carefully inserted into easy to access seams along his thighs, the gloves opened and closed on command, and the reinforcements for his joints were all locked in. “Yeah that’s about right,”

“Fine, whatever. Not like we really have a choice here” Uraraka once again looked around and then sighed as the footfalls came to a stop about a corridor over. “You distract him and I go for Iida?”

Izuku carefully set his mask on his face, locking it into place where it connected to his jumpsuit behind his jaw, and pulled his hood up, allowing the magnets to attach to the headband he wore. “You got it. When I give the signal, run like hell and go kick some ass.”

Uraraka’s smile was vicious as she pulled down her pink tinged visor over her eyes. 

Izuku took a deep breath. Rolled his shoulders. Cracked his wrists, his neck, his knuckles. Then he stood up stretched out for another second and reset his capture weapon around his waist.

Show time.

Chapter Text

Izuku grinds his teeth as the walls loom higher, and sparks of light flash from the corridor at the end of the hall. It’s an assignment nothing more nothing less. There’s nothing more to this battle trial. He can’t afford to be distracted because even if Bakugou leads how he usually does, that split second won’t be enough for Izuku’s quirk to take hold. It’s the moments after that which will determine their fate.

As Izuku rounds the final corner he heaves a deep breath, cracks his neck, and faces Bakugou for the first time in years on an even playing field. 

Bakugou’s armor is ridiculously impractical, but somehow he makes it work. Grenade-like gauntlets wrap around his forearms, a mask covers his eyes and blossoms like explosions behind his ears, a giant orange x is plastered on a black tank top, and black cargo pants are constrained by a green belt that has holsters on both thighs. Honestly the boots are the only thing that Izuku can reasonably state are fine, with their obvious steel knees and thick soles. 

“Deku!” Came the snarl ripped from Bakugou, mask scrunching up as his eyebrows draw close and his lips sneer. “Finally showing your face eh?”

Izuku doesn’t grace that with a response, simply lowering into a fighting stance, one foot forward and another back, hands up in front of his face. 

Izuku breaths out and the mask hisses quietly as air escapes through the vents on the sides. 

Bakugou glares a little longer, hands clenching and unclenching.

Izuku cocks his head and lets his eyes take on an amused glint.

Bakugou’s eyes widen, his muscles tense, and his right fist rears back.

Bingo.

Izuku rushes forward, feet slamming against the concrete, the impact rattling through his body, his fingertips buzzing. Then right as they reach each other, Izuku dips low, his right leg between Bakuogu’s legs. Izuku grins up at Bakugou and pivots. Quickly flexing his fingers, the tips of his gloves disappear and Izuku’s hands grab Bakugou’s wrist and elbow. The excess momentum of the right hook allows Izuku to haul Bakugou over his shoulder and slam him directly onto the floor with a resounding crack.

In the couple seconds where Bakugou is stunned, Izuku whips around to Uraraka who’s standing there in the corner, white as a sheet. 

“GO!” Izuku practically roars, hearing the popping that indicates Bakugou’s regaining his faculties. 

Uraraka starts and then sets her face more resolutely, rushing past Izuku who’s torn focus stops him from using his quirk. 

“DEKU!” Bakugou releases a giant explosion from the hand Izuku is holding, forcing Izuku to release him and skip back a couple of paces or risk being burned. 

“God,” Izuku’s voice is metallic through the voice modulator integrated into his mask. “Is that the only fucking name you know me by?”

Bakugou, similarly to how Izuku treated his original taunt, leaves this unanswered and launches himself at Izuku with extreme prejudice. Great. 

Izuku in turn readies himself, letting Bakugou set the pace, slipping in and out of his guard as he throws wild punches. The only concerning parts of the battle are when Bakugou lets out an explosion right as he starts to pull back. There Izuku’s in danger of getting his face fried off, but with the hood of his costume in place, Izuku at least has a chance so he lets a few go in favor of guiding the lunatic. 

It continues for what feels like ages, Izuku giving ground and Bakugou throwing a tight punch that nearly burns starbursts into Izuku’s face. Or at least, it did right up until Izuku backed them directly into a room with no exits but the one they came through.

Bakugou, noticing this grins feral, eyes filled with enough malice that Izuku nearly thought he was dealing with a real villain. “Got you Deku,”

Izuku pauses for a second and sends a questioning look Bakugou's way, eyes squinted and disapproving. “Stop that. You sound like a cheap horror movie,” 

This second of raw disapproval turns out to nearly be Izuku's downfall because Bakguou takes the judgment, lets it fester for a split second and then launches a huge explosion right at Izuku in retaliation. Izuku has absolutely no way of displacing or dodging it, but he’d been prepared for this, so he just turns around and lets the heat dissipate across the explosion resistant material.

Before the smoke from the blast clears, Izuku grabs his capture weapon from his waist and sprints for the wall as silently as possible. He gets a couple feet up it and then flips around, pushing off so he’s right above the entrance where Bakugou is still standing, seemingly proud of getting a hit in.

Izuku nearly laughs but that would give himself away and he can’t have that. However, right before he’s on top of Bakugou he doesn’t resist the desire to be the little shit Dabi calls him. 

“Boo!” Izuku calls as he falls down, wrapping the weapon around his wrists.

Bakugou jolts and would have turned in time if Izuku were any less skilled. Izuku’s capture weapon flashes out, grabbing the outstretched arm and Izuku yanks, pulling himself down. Bakugou, of course, attempts to heave Izuku towards himself by drawing his arm back, but unfortunately for him this only provides a fulcrum for Izuku to transition his descent into a slide. He swings right underneath Bakugou’s arm and manhandles Bakugou’s arm behind him using the capture weapon to tie it up.

This sets Bakugou off like a top and he whips around, attempting to loosen the weapon. Izuku dances with him, right until Bakugou gets free. Then, with the blasting of explosions as his backing track, he runs backwards, towards the window ledge where he perches for a second, catching his breath and preparing for the next assault.

Bakugou too takes this minute to recover, obviously having not expected this much of a fight from someone who was essentially quirkless unless he touched someone. They stare at each other, too pig-headed to look away but too wary of the other to immediately begin the next fist fight. 

Bakugou growls at him, a low rumbling sound that suits a lawnmower better than a man. “C’mon Deku, I thought you were just itching to prove how much better you are than me,”

Izuku snorts and rolls his eyes. “No, that inferiority complex is all you asshole,”

A scoff is all the warning Izuku gets before Bakugou is aiming one of his gauntlets directly at him. “Well then if you’re so damn confident, eat this. My grenade is a culmination of some of my sweat, and it’s just waiting to ignite. I can’t wait to see how big the explosion is!”

Izuku’s eyes widen as All Might immediately reacts, telling Bakugou if he sets off the gauntlet they’ll be disqualified and immediately lose, but it’s too late. Bakugou got half the pin out before the warning and it doesn’t go back in. 

Touching under his ear, Izuku tells Uraraka to get a hold of something and maneuver Iida to the sides of the room through his coms. These next few seconds aren’t going to be pretty depending on what he chooses. The damage to the building alone is going to be extreme. All of them, including Bakugou, are going to be lucky if they come out of this with only second degree burns.

There’s a choice in the ten seconds Izuku has before the literal bomb goes off. It’s not really a choice, but he lets himself pretend it is before making sure everything he has is secure. 

Once Izuku is certain that he’s not completely ill equipped for this really dumb fucking stunt, he sprints so that he’s behind Bakugou. Izuku throws his capture weapon so it’s around Bakugou’s grenade gauntlet and then pulls Bakugou’s arm upwards towards the ceiling. Might as well use this for his plan, Izuku grunts and then turns to his childhood friend and now apparent mortal enemy.

“Pull the trigger moron,” Izuku raises his voice as loud as he can, supporting Bakugou’s back as much as he can from this position.

Bakugou snarls, but obeys by pulling the pin. Instantaneously, the entire room goes up in flames. The level of heat confirms that Izuku was right to face away, but Bakugou won’t be so lucky. Instead of being rational, once the explosion is past needing being directed, Izuku trips Bakugou, forcing him down and underneath Izuku’s far more blast proof self. 

The room is in shreds, even if they’d aimed it outside, Izuku is certain the destruction would have been unaffected. Bakugou seems a little bit stunned by the carnage, but Izuku, through the ringing in his ears, can hear that All Might has called the match. In whose favor? Izuku doesn’t know and right now is a bit too pissed to hear anyway. 

Izuku rolls off of Bakugou and begins yelling, while still staring up at the ceiling, barely hearing himself. “What the absolute fuck made you think that was a good idea, Kacchan ?”

Bakugou sits in silence, and Izuku realizes that the explosion induced tinnitus might not be conducive to this discussion . So, he does what he does best, and becomes a problem. Izuku sits up, stares Bakugou dead in the eyes, yanks off his glove from upper arm to fingertips, and then slaps Bakugou. 

In those seconds of skin contact Izuku forces as much of his quirk through his hand and directly into Bakugou’s brain, forcing him into a shut down. In turn, Izuku gets about two seconds to watch gloriously as Bakugou’s head is flung sideways into the rubble before he’s out like a light himself.

Dabi was gritting his teeth as he sprints through the halls to the teachers lounge. He’d wanted to stay behind, but All Might was right in that Dabi was the fastest through the crowded halls. The explosion had rattled half the school building and sent several classes of students into a frenzy which meant that All Might would not be fast enough to get to Aizawa.

“Move it brats!” Dabi calls ahead, dodging around panicking children.

Normally he’d feel worse about practically punting kids out of his way, but at the current moment there was a collapsing building that held four dumb ass hero students who needed rescuing. He had the more time sensitive task.

Finally, the hallway opened up, and Dabi was able to rip open the door to the lounge and look in at the relaxing teachers. All of them stood stock still, even Vlad and Power Loader who were used to Dabi’s dramatic entrances.

“What happened?” Aizawa snapped, the quickest as always to react.

“Four hero kids, Uraraka, Bakugou, Midoriya, and Iida are currently trapped in training tower C after Bakugou’s gear failed to have a failsafe for his gauntlet. The tower is currently incredibly unstable,” Dabi reported, back straight and mask’s eyes deadset on the bedraggled teacher.

Aizawa, Power Loader, and Midnight immediately were at his side as they rushed out of the room. Vlad, left in the room, immediately started to call Nezu and students in the halls were shepherded back into their classrooms. Somewhere along the way Recovery Girl ended up racing alongside them so she could assess the damages. 

Aizawa spoke up once everyone was gathered. “Details Dabi, this doesn’t happen everyday. What gave?”

Dabi hacked out a cough before continuing their dead sprint. “Bakugou threatened Midoriya with his sweat collecting gauntlets and pulled the pin halfway out before All Might could stop him. Midoriya realized the pin was only removable and couldn’t be put back and so attempted to mitigate damage. Midoriya ended up aiming it upwards, likely to assist in his own plan, but miscalculated the blast force and now half the building is melted or gone and the foundations are in shambles. I couldn’t tell how Uraraka and Iida were before I was out to grab back up.”

Recovery girl nodded and asked about injuries.

“Burns for both Bakugou and Midoriya, I’m guessing severe, second or third degree. Potentially fourth degree on Midoriya as he covered Bakugou from the worst of the aftermath. Uraraka and Iida may have gotten blasted outwards, trapped under rubble, or both. They also likely have burns but not as severe, they were fighting on the floor above and Midoriya warned them so they were on the outskirts of the blast.”

The already grim atmosphere dampened further once they got to the training facility and saw the damage. Floors one through three were intact, but once you hit four there was only half a building left. Smoke was pouring from practically every floor above, and the first three floors seemed to be bending with the rouble from the top half resting on top. 

Dabi winced. It was worse than he’d thought. Damnit.

“Alright, Dabi, you're with me. We’re going to hunt for the kids. Nemuri I want you on triage with Recovery Girl, we’ll need you to put the kids asleep if the burns are as bad as we’re predicting. Power Loader I want you shoring up the bottom floors. We’ve got thirty minutes to do this. Any more and we risk the entire thing crumbling down, any less and we’re gambling these kids lives with shoddy rescue work,” Aizawa was succinct and swiftly began to move, expecting that his orders would be followed. 

Which they were, but still Dabi was surprised the reaction was so quick. 

The two raced inside, taking steps two at a time until they reached the spot where the blast was initially fired. There, on the floor were Bakugou and Midoriya, Bakugou had a giant red handprint on the side of his face and his entire left glove and gauntlet were burnt off. The skin around his wrist was charred, and peeling already. 

Midoriya, who was slumped sitting upright near Bakugou, wasn’t in any better condition. His gear absorbed most of the blast and had begun to cool everything, but his back was covered in second degree burns where the material wasn’t enough. 

Dabi immediately winced, nobody else should go through getting their skin burnt off. It wasn’t a fun feeling, that of all your nerve endings frying before you couldn’t feel anything but pain. 

“Dabi, I need you to look for the other two. I’ll take care of Midoriya and Bakugou as I can carry more weight,” Aizawa had carefully placed a hand on Dabi’s shoulder and was looking at him where his eyes would normally be.

Dabi heaved a deep breath and tore his gaze away from the sigh before racing away and up the stairs to hunt for the next pair. Luckily, it would seem these two had some sense and were currently a little crispy, but overall intact, having moved outside of the room above the blast zone. Uraraka was completely out of it, but Iida still had some consciousness left in him.

“HEY!” Dabi yelled from the crumbling stairwell. “Iida I need you to very, very carefully make your way over here, the floor supports are nearly gone and my weight with yours is going to be too much,”

Iida gave no verbal response but began to gently tug Uraraka his way. Slowly but surely, the two students made it to where Dabi was standing. Dabi slung Iida’s arm over his shoulders and they both split the weight of Uraraka. Neither kid, on closer inspection, was burnt badly, but they had obvious signs of smoke inhalation. Just what they needed, smokers lungs without the cool edginess of actually smoking. 

Once they’d made it to the triage tent, Recovery girl gave them a quick once over before moving back to the obvious problem patients. Iida seemed shocked at the look of the two, but quickly succumbed to sleep after Recovery Girl gave him a quick kiss.

Aizawa stood in the background, leaned up against one of the buildings, an eye on Recovery Girl and the occasional glance to the viewing room. “Is this All Might's fault?”

The question would have surprised Dabi had he not been expecting it. Someone needed to be blamed for at least a little bit of this, but alas two thirds of it was an accident. “No, not at all. Much as I don’t like him butting in on your teaching, he did the right thing. All Might warned Bakugou right when he saw what was going to happen  and controlled the class well once the explosion went off. Bakugou’s more at fault for even considering a near lethal attack.”

“Great,” Aizawa scrubbed at his face and then turned to where Nezu was entering. “Whose brilliant idea was it to give the kid who explodes shit free bombs of large scale destruction with absolutely no failsafe for if the pin accidentally got pulled?”

Nezu grinned and Dabi very suddenly got a debilitating headache. What a wonderful way to end the school day. At least there weren’t supposed to be any battle trials past this one. Small mercies.

Small, tiny ass mercies.