Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

~His Beginning~

When Midoriya Izuku was born, Midoriya Inko smiled long and wide at her baby, and when he opened his eyes, the nurses gasped and she cried. 

Little Izuku’s eyes were of fractured crystals, emeralds of worlds long gone, eyes too old and wise to be anything but a Midoriya’s. Something had sung and chimed, claimed Izu as hers and Inko as his, and she found herself go quiet with wonder, labored breaths disappearing, as if everything in her life had suddenly just clicked, and made sense. 

She belonged here. This was her past, her present, and her future. 

Inko revelled in the quiet way Izuku looked at her-- and sometimes she would marvel, when Izuku flooded the bathroom with his tears, for instance, why he had been so quiet that day. The nurses would later say that it was merely because he was too disoriented, too little and new. 

Midoriya Inko knew otherwise. Izuku had the stars in his eyes before he knew what stars were-- there was knowledge, and the baby she held in her arms that day gleamed with a different sort of potential. Hisashi was there, as he was for as long as he could be-- he smiled at her, kissed her forehead. 

“I suppose I can’t keep doing my old work, can I, dear?” She said, and Hisashi had chuckled. 

“Not with our Izuku, you can’t.”

He was on the news the next day. 

~~~

Katsuki Bakugo was born a month after, and Inko was there when Mitsuki, her lovely best friend since high school, looked into the eyes of a little blonde spoof who wouldn’t stop screaming. Masaru had sighed, fondly, as crimson eyes met crimson, and they both went quiet-- one, trying to fuss over her baby, the other, the cause of the ruckus. They regarded each other, fire and blood and warmth in their eyes, and then Inko had chuckled. 

“Your doppelganger, Mitsuki! Are you sure you didn’t just clone yourself?” She asked through giggles smothered by her hand. 

Izuku, blinking up blearily, had looked about. Inko lifted him up after Mitsuki had grinned. 

“Look at you, squirt! Just like your Mom. You got the gorgeous genes, didn’t you?”

“Mitsuki,” Masaru had whined, despite the grin on his face. 

“Bring Izu over here!” Mitsuki had said, all bright tones and bombastic energy despite the fact that she’d just, you know. Had a baby.

“Ah, are you sure?” 

“Yeah, he has to meet Katsuki.” And so Inko lifted Izuku up, up and up, and the tumultuous connection between Bakugo Katsuki and Midoriya Izuku blinked into existence. 

Crimson met green, fire met serenity, and power met knowledge. 

(Thirty thousand futures split into existence, and somewhere, someone far away felt a twinge in their temple, their quirk letting them know that there was one more, one more.)

~~~

Midoriya Izuku loved Quirks. This was hidden, in fact, by his overbearing love for heroes with said Quirks. Midoriya Inko can recall, fondly, with a great big smile, the first day Izuku had seen All Might in action. His eyes, those lovely secret-filled things, had widened and shined, and she had been drawn in by the way his emerald curls bounced against his face as he gasped.

“Mama, Mama, who?!” he asked, excitedly, pointing. He’d been speaking far younger then anyone else’s child had, and she supposed that was her first mistake, to ignore it, to just dismiss it as something quite smart. 

After all, she was always telling her little Izu things as she saw them, no more, no less.

“That’s All Might, dear.”

He makes a starstruck noise, and Inko wants to melt, because she knows he’s asking her what he is, what the world is about, in all of his capacity to understand.

And Inko obliges, telling her little Izu about a man who risked his life, a man called a hero, a society called heroes, who protected and loved and lived for others. She tells him about his lovely father, a tough, fire-breathing man who regularly saved thousands in exchange for one life-- his own.

And throughout all of it, throughout all of her complicated stories and descriptions not anywhere fit for a little one to hear, Izuku sat, enraptured.

That should have been her second clue, she thought later on. Hindsight was the best foresight. 

~~~

“Kacchan, have you heard of All Might?!” Izuku asks, two years later, and Inko tries to hold back a snort. She succeeds, but Mitsuki does not. 

“Haah? Of course I have!” Katsuki fires back as they draw pictures together. 

“Isn’t he cool?!”

“Yeah, he’s the number one hero! Duh. I’m going to beat him when I’m older!” 

“Eh?” Izuku looks up. “Kacchan, have you gotten your quirk yet?”

“Shut up!” Katsuki roars, in lieu of the obvious answer. “I’ll get one, and so will you, and we’ll be the best goddamn heroes in the world! ” 

“Hey, brat! Language!” Mitsuki scolds as Izuku’s eyes light up, the strange pearlescence of glimmering secrets swimming in iridescent pools of green. Inko turns to look at him, as he stops, and thinks for a minute. She watches the way his eyes flick to hers, odd in their shine. 

If Izuku was anyone else, she might believe he wasn’t looking at her, but through her-- at something she couldn’t see. 

But this was Izuku. Her baby couldn’t do that-- his soul was too gentle, and he was trying very hard to say something-- she could see it in the wrinkle of his lips. 

He’s being deeply thorough, collecting his thoughts just like she’d taught him (“Analysis might save your life someday, Izuku.”) and he’s worrying a single green curl around his fingers, so whatever he has to say must be important to him. 

Even Katsuki quiets down and looks at him, suspiciously. 

“You haven’t been cheating, have you?” he asks gruffly after a time, and Mistuki stops her ranting long enough to stick in a guffaw, as Inko poorly conceals a giggle. One couldn’t cheat at drawing . 

“No, I haven’t, Kacchan!” Izuku pouts, and Inko smiles. 

“I can assure you, dandelion head, he hasn’t been cheating. Don’t just accuse anyone of that!” Mitsuki says, tapping him playfully on the head. 

“Oi! Who are you calling dandelion head, woman?! If anything, Izu’s the dandelion head!” 

“Am not!” Izuku says, and internally, Inko sighs. Whatever Izuku's been wanting to say had just flown away with his last coherent thoughts. It must’ve been something tough to think over-- she doesn’t fault him for it. 

“Now now, Katsuki. If anything, Izuku’s a clover, don’t you see?” She says sweetly, and laughs freely as little Katsuki barks out the same harsh laughter as her best friend and she’s met with a honey-sweet whine of “Mamaaaa!” that still gets to her to this day. 

Izuku pouts, they laugh, and everyone forgets how Izuku never reaffirmed to Katsuki that they’d be the greatest hero duo in the world. 

~~~

The next time Katsuki and Izuku play outside-- three days later, to be exact-- Izuku declines the All Might figure Katsuki thrusts at him. 

“Nah, Kacchan, I don’t want it. Thank you though!” Izuku says, squinting in concentration at the workbook his Mama had given him. 

“Eh, why? Come on, we always play heroes and villains, and I’m letting you be the hero this one time!” Bakugo barks, and Izuku frowns at him, and then downwards at himself, as if questioning his own decision. 

“I think you’re much better playing as All Might. How would you even play as the villain, Kacchan? Aren’t you going to be a hero?” 

“Haaah, is that a challenge? Of course I’m going to be a hero, and I can damn well prove to you that I’m going to be able to do it even while playing a villain!” 

Izuku looks up at him, nonplussed. “But you punch just like All Might! It’s all smash, and kaboom, and bwaaah!” He says, hands miming an… explosion. 

(Katsuki is confused, but he doesn’t think it over-- he had to have power if he was going to be an awesome hero!) 

“...Fine, I’ll be All Might! I’m going to be the better hero out of the two of us anyway, Deku.” Izuku blinks up at the new nickname, and frowns. 

“Hey, where did that come from?” He whines, and Kacchan grins. 

“You’re not the only one who likes looking at those books Auntie Inko gives us, nerd!” 

“Yeah, but that’s not my name, Kacchan!” 

“It might as well be! You don’t even want to play right now! And besides, it’s just a different way of reading Izuku. C’mon, Deku, let’s go!” 

“But I don’t like it,” Little Izuku whines, unknowing as to how many futures ripple out from those words. 

Kacchan looks back at him, and for an instant his red eyes remind Izu of someone, someone older, but then Izuku relents, a bright smile on his face. “Alright, Kacchan, I guess I can take a break!”

“Yeah! I don’t understand what you even like looking at those things for so long. Hurts my eyes.”

“It’s called kanji, Kacchan. And it’s really interesting!” 

“Tch, whatever. We’ll probably learn it in school.”

“Yeah, Kacchan, school! Aren’t you excited?!” 

~~~

Midoriya Inko is a sensible woman. She married the man she loved, and she tries her best to teach Izuku about the world, plays heroes with him, teaches him reading and writing-- and yet for all his kindness and gentle ways, Izuku didn’t always do the things little boys liked to do. He read more often, and the way he watched hero fights on television-- when she didn’t see any blood, she allowed him to see-- seemed oddly focused for a three-year-old. 

So she does the sensible thing and throws him an All-Might-themed birthday party. Katsuki comes over, and Hisashi and Mitsuki rant about their coworkers while Masaru throws his head back and laughs, freer then any other time Inko's seen him around in the company of others. 

When it’s time to light the cake, Hisashi crouches in front of Izuku and lights it with a tongue of flame-- Izuku claps, and the brilliant three burns on the candlewick. 

“Blow it out, darling!” Inko says, smiling, and he does, eyes closing and cheeks puffing out comically. 

And then Izuku stops, and looks up, and something ice cold jolts down Inko’s spine. It’s just a split second, when he opens his eyes, and Inko sees something--

--Someone older-- how-- this was her Izuku, but-- 

“...Mom?” His mouth moves and she hears a whisper of the words, but Katsuki and Mitsuki are bickering again, and Masaru hasn’t noticed. Maybe she’s hallucinating. Izuku never calls her 'mom'-- it's always 'mama', even if he's angry at her. 

Izuku’s eyes flick to Hisashi, and Inko feels something is terribly wrong with the sudden-- the sudden grief in the boy’s eyes-- and the world freezes, because she swears she sees his eyes glow-- but then Izuku blinks and smiles toothily, completely fine again. She turns to Hisashi, trying to mask the quiet concern in her face as he tips his head to the side, smile tightening when he sees the look in her eyes.

(It's always the eyes, for Midoriyas.) 

“What is it, honey?” Hisashi asks, and Izuku looks up, worried, big beautiful jade eyes sparkling with innocence. 

“Nothing, dear. Happy birthday, Izuku!” She says with a smile, shaking the shiver still running down the length of her back. 

~~~

Midday sometime next week, Inko is in the middle of cooking, Izuku yammering on and on about how amazing it would be to go to daycare, when her phone rings. She looks down at the number, reads it once and then twice as Detection Quirk and nothing else before answering, befuddled. 

“Ma’am, are you the wife of Midoriya Hisashi?” Tsukauchi Naomasa’s voice echoes through the phone, and Inko’s heart skips a beat, old anxieties (had she not covered her tracks well enough? Would they hurt Izuku? Her husband? Did they know who she was? Had they found the suit somehow? Was there new evidence?) rising until she has to actively quell the adrenaline in her veins. 

“Yes, I’m Midoriya Inko,” She says, a smile back in her voice. 

“Mama?” Izuku blinks at the spoon when it floats by and then misses the table, clattering on the floor. 

Inko stops, stops listening after the first few words--

“I’m sorry, Midoriya-san, but Firecracker-- while in America-- All Might didn’t get there in time--” 

“Mama?” Inko turns, looks at her child with wide, horrified eyes, prays he doesn’t see the desolation in them, before tears spill down her cheeks and shudders rack her body. Before she knows what she's doing, she meets his eyes, watches the light behind them waver and shine, and she's blurting it out before she knows what she means--

“Did you know, baby?” She asks with a shaking voice, and Izuku looks up, clearly scared. 

“Know what, Mama?” 

She falls to her knees in front of him, the call ends, the voicemail no less disturbing, the news article horrific. Pro Hero Firecracker dead this morning, a Japanese hero working overseas on a special international--

“Papa’s not going to be back for a while, baby,” She says, and Izuku doesn’t protest when she wraps her shaking arms around him. 

“He must be teaming up with All Might again!” Izuku says pumping his fist, but he's quieter, like he's confused.

Inko chokes off her sobs, smiling as her tiny son rants and rattles off statistics, despite the fact that someone has taken a soldering iron to her heart. 

Oh, Hisashi…

She was going to have to get a legal job, then.

~~~

For the first time ever, two days after his fourth birthday, Midoriya Izuku has a dream. It is a strange dream, full of shifting lights and shattered noises, and when he wakes up it is with tears on his face and confusion in his head. 

“Awww, Izu, baby, what happened? Why are you crying?” Inko fusses over him during breakfast, and he shrugs. 

“I had a weird… what was it called? At night? When you think while you’re sleepy?” He asks, the word eluding him. 

“A dream, darling?” Inko asks, ever the patient woman. 

“Yeah. I had a dream. I’ve never had one of them before… it was really confusing. I could hear a lot of sirens, the ones on the police cars!” Izuku says, hands flying about as he mimics the sirens. 

“Well that’s certainly interesting!” Inko says, smiling as she puts a plate of omelette in front of him. “You could hear sounds, too?”

“Yeah! It was super loud… and I don’t remember the rest of the dream…” Izuku frowns, deep in thought, worrying his curls. 

“I’m sure it’ll come to you eventually, darling,” Inko says, looking down at her beautiful baby boy. “Are you excited for school?” The shine in his eyes nearly blinds her for how fast he springs up and grins. 

“Oh yeah, Mama, I’m pumped! ” He says something strange in English and Inko giggles. 

“Where’d you get pumped from?” She exclaims as he pounds his little hands on the table. 

“Present Mic’s radio show! I didn’t get most of it, but he said a lot of things in a weird language! And I’m so excited about school! It’s a place where I can just learn!” He exclaims, and Inko smiles at the way his eyes crinkle at the edges, his freckles wrinkling with them. 

Just like Hisashi. He’d been around for his last birthday, but now all they could do was go visit him in the--

(Mama, why are they putting him in a box? Where is he going?)  

“Alright. Well, we better be on our way then, shouldn’t we Izu? We’ll be late~” She says, a teasing tone to her voice. Izuku finishes his omelette faster then should be possible and practically bolts to the car. 

While they’re driving, Izuku looks out at the rapidly rising sun, and when the light hits his eyes and Inko sees them through the rearview, her chest tightens slightly-- secretsofthelightestkinddarknesscystalsfracturesbrokenmemoriesplanetsandbutterfliesandsingularstrings-- until Izuku kicks the back of her chair by accident and begins to mutter. 

“Do you think anyone there already has their quirks, Mama?” Izuku asks, excitedly. “Do you think I could ask them about theirs, if they do?” Inko smiles-- whatever Izuku echoes in herself he echoes twofold in Hisashi’s image, with his mutterings, fluffy curls and penchant for quirks. 

She’d helped him, as he’d excitedly learned kanji and hiragana at a pace even Katsuki couldn’t keep up with, write his name on three consecutive notebooks dedicated, in shaky handwriting, to people and their quirks. 

All Might was the first entry, followed by Endeavor and Mitsuki and Masaru and herself, and then countless more. Izuku had even done research on his father, oddly solemn as he watched videos of the Pro Hero Firecracker save multitudes of people. 

Inko leaves him to his own devices-- Midoriyas have always been sharp. 

(She had, of course, curbed the cursing. She hadn’t had to intervene much, but when he stubbed his toe on the coffee table and exclaimed “ Shit!” in English, she’d told him the power of curses, and not to use them like Katsuki did. 

Izuku had looked confused at this, because in truth he’d gotten it from a tall blonde man walking in the street one day.

But that is neither here nor there.)

“I’m sure they’ll let you if you ask nicely, Izuku. But if they don’t want to, that’s okay too!” She says, and Izuku smiles at her cheerfully, radiating the light of a thousand suns. 

“Yeah!” 

~~~

“DEKU! ARE YOU HOME?!” A familiar screaming voice fills the house, and Inko winces. 

“I’m upstairs, Kacchan! Please don’t yell!” Izuku’s faint voice calls down, and Inko stuffs down a snicker that comes with the glower Katsuki directs at the ceiling. 

“Hi darling, would you like a snack? Will your parents be coming over?” Katsuki looks up at her, and she resists the urge to coo-- he really is like a male Mitsuki, foul mouth and all. 

“No thanks, Auntie Inko! And I think it’s just going to be De--Izuku and I today, if you don’t mind!” He says, suddenly the poster-child of manners. 

Oh, Mitsuki, if you saw him talking right now, you’d laugh. He’s even more of a two-faced rascal then you are. Polite though. That’s his saving grace.  

As he thumps upstairs, Inko follows with some apple slices, because Izuku is always hungry, no matter what. 

“Hi, Kacchan. How was your day so f--”

“Have you gotten your quirk yet?” Katsuki asks, but it might as well have been HAVEYOUGOTTENYOURQUIRKYET with how loud he is. 

“No, Kacchan. I have not,” Izuku says, plainly. 

“Ugh, what’s it waiting for?”

“What’s yours waiting for?”

“Maybe it’s waiting for yours, so we can become the greatest hero duo!” Izuku hums in affirmation, and brightens further. 

“Yeah! I guess mine just has to hurry up, then.”

“Ugh, turn down the grin, Deku. It’s too bright.”

“What...?”

“Never mind,” He grumbles, and Inko smiles a bit, dropping off the apple slices and subtly glancing at what the two of them are doing. 

“What did you find today, nerd?!”

“Well, there’s this really cool new hero named Eraserhead who has just debuted!”

“Eraserhead? Haah? I haven’t heard of them?!”

“That’s because he’s an underground hero?”

“...Hah?”

“Underground heroes, er… they fight crime at night? Or something? I’m not sure.”

Inko freezes. 

(It can't possibly be.)

“Oh. That’s dumb, how are they supposed to get popular like All Might?!”

“I don’t know! Apparently that’s the point… but hey, listen to what his quirk is! It's Erasure!” 

Inko's hands go over her mouth, soundless, and she makes her way back down the stairs. 

(So he'd succeeded, then; it was good to know. Suddenly, Inko feels so much older.)

~~~

“Kacchan, what is that?!” Izuku screeches exactly six days later, in the middle of the day. “Ow, it stings!” 

Mitsuki and Inko look at each other and walk up the stairs, confused. 

“Is it a firecracker?” Comes Katsuki’s just as confused voice. 

“No, it’s-- it’s coming from your hands!” Izuku cries out. “It’s… oh.” 

“Deku--”

“Kacchan, you got your Quirk! ” Izuku cries out, and laughs, giggling. “Wow, Kacchan is awesome!” 

Inko and Mitsuki take the rest of the stairs by two just in time to see Katsuki singe his shirt. His new shirt. 

“Oi, brat! That’s a new shirt!”

“Mom, I got my Quirk! ” Katuski says, spinning around, and for a rare moment Mitsuki hugs her son and Katsuki lets her, both of them laughing their raspy giggles. Izuku looks on, laughing himself, and his eyes shine brighter then Inko's ever seen them.

That should’ve been her third clue. 

TO BE CONTINUED…

Chapter Text

~A Sort of Unease~

“Oi, Deku!” Kacchan says, and Izuku looks up, only to flinch back at the crackles in Katsuki’s hands. 

He’s happy that he got a quirk, he really is, but Kacchan’s Quirk is loud, and he's not sure if he likes that.

“Look what I figured out how to do!” Miniature explosions fill his vision, whiting it out for a second as people crowd Kacchan, ooh-ing and aah-ing. 

The teachers coo at him, telling him what an awesome hero he’ll be, and Izuku agrees! And maybe it’s a little bit painful when Kacchan grabs onto his hand with sparks coming out of both of his, but his Quirk is so interesting that Izuku doesn’t really care. 

“Awesome! I’m going to write it down, Kacchan, hold on!” Izuku says, reaching down to grab his Quirk Analysis For The Future notebook and scribbling away furiously. Lately, Kacchan has been a bit trigger-happy with his Quirk, but Izuku doesn’t blame him; he'd probably do the same thing. 

He can scarcely wait until he gets his-- it’s already been three months after Izuku’s birthday, and roughly two after Katsuki’s. He should already have gotten his Quirk, shouldn’t he have? He was born first, after all. When he said this to his Mama, she’d just laughed. 

“Maybe it’s shy,” She joked, and they’d spent the day playing heroes and hostages, just like they always had, with a little English lesson mixed in. 

But Izuku saw the worry that tensed up her eyes, just a little bit, and so he was the slightest bit unsettled nowadays. 

“You better hurry up and get your Quirk, Deku. Otherwise we can’t be a hero duo and I’m going to leave you in the dust.” Izuku winces, his pencil making a small score into the paper. 

He was used to the caustic way Kacchan talked, but last night’s dream coupled with those words had hit a bit too close to home. 

(He didn't have dreams often; but he always woke up screaming. Mama had asked Tsubasa-san when night terrors were supposed to go away, but they weren't completely sure.)

“I know, Kacchan,” He said quietly, erasing the miswritten character he’d just botched. 

Kacchan had started hanging out less and less with him, and he was using his Quirk more and more, which made sense. It was logical. It was what Izuku would have done… probably. So he just needed to hurry up and get his own Quirk so he could catch up to Kacchan!

“Otherwise you’re just a useless Deku,” Katsuki continued, under his breath, making Izuku’s blood freeze until he sauntered over to his respective desk. Kacchan was being rude as usual, apparently. 

“Okay class! I have a wonderful announcement for you all!” Their teacher Miss Yuki says as she beckons one of the many kids in their class, a small girl by the name of Itori Ruko. 

“Whoa, Ruko, what happened to your hair?!” Another girl chimes in, and Izuku looked up from where he was trying to puzzle out a word to see that indeed, Ruko’s hair has gone blue and translucent, like water. 

Like a Quirk.

“This is my quirk,” Ruko says quietly. “It’s called Water Hair, and it’s exactly what it sounds like!” She says, slowly gaining confidence. 

Izuku watches, mesmerized, as she flips it over her shoulder and it stays together, even drops that have scattered lazily floating around her to rejoin the middle. 

“That’s almost the whole class! The only three who haven’t shown their quirks yet are Inochi, Midoriya and Takagura, right?” Miss Yuki turns her kind gaze over to them, and Izuku fights the urge to shrink away from the sunshine and expectations in her eyes. “Do you best, you three!” 

Someone snickers from the back. 

“As if that has anything to do with it.”

Izuku frowns. If only it did-- then he would have gotten his Quirk a long time ago.  

~~~

“Mom? Which Quirk do you think I’m going to get, yours or papa’s?” Izuku asks into the companionable silence of their ride back home. Inko hums. 

“Well, I think you’ll get a combination, maybe! Like you can make an object super hot despite not touching it, or you can breathe magnetic fields away!” Inko chatters, and Izuku looks at her, eyes shining.

“Whoa, can you imagine? I could disrupt electrical circuits, even!” He goes back to muttering, and Inko tries to conceal the pinch of worry in her gut. 

Maybe they should… no, they don’t have to see a doctor quite yet. It’s still three months until the new year, and kids even developed their Quirks at six and seven years of age! There was nothing to worry about. 

Izuku tries not to notice the dullness of Mama's eyes, as if she’s worried, but he does anyway. The eyes of the Midoriyas are perhaps the most telling of traits-- and you can’t hide from them either. 

~~~

“Yikes, Kacchan, that was a nasty fall!” Izuku says, running down to the stream where Kacchan sits, rubbing the back of his head. “Are you okay?” 

In a single moment that will change the course of the universe, Midoriya Izuku offers his hand out to Katsuki Bakugo-- strings snap, futures enmesh, darken, warp, change, and it’s all too much, fartoomuchthefabricoftheuniverserepacesitselfstitchbystitchand Izuku Midoriya has made a big 

M

    I

        S

            T

                A

                    K

                       E--  

And Katsuki Bakugo’s face contorts into rage. The crimson eyes Izuku so admires look at him with burning hatred. 

“I don’t need your help! Stop looking down on me! You’re a useless, Quirkless, stupid, nerdy waste of space!” Kacchan yells, and something very strong in Izuku cracks, the slightest bit. 

For the first time, his never ending smile wavers, and when Kacchan’s hands latch, sparking, onto his shoulders, to burn burn burn burn burn, Izuku understands that he’s made a mistake. That something has changed.

~~~

“Oh, dear,” Izuku hears Inko murmur from the living room. He looks up from where he’d been carefully positioning his latest doodle on the fridge, and cranes his neck round the corner. 

“What’s wrong, Mama?”

“A Pro Hero got injured… he’s terribly young, poor dear…” Izuku hops up, curiosity piqued, to see the live footage of the battle. "I haven't seen him before..."

(This is a lie. Midoriya Inko knows who the man is, has known him from before he was a hero. She clutches at her heart and feels a very real lump form in her throat.)

Izuku gasps as he sees a familiar scarf, and a pair of yellow goggles that are speckled with crimson. It's wrong, that this shouldn't be televised, things like this shouldn't every be televised--

“Is something wrong, dear?”

“I know him,” Izuku breathes, and Inko stops, listens.

(She’s the only one who ever does.)

“His name is Eraserhead. He’s an underground Pro, I don’t get it… why is he here in the daylight?” 

“Oh, Izuku… maybe we shouldn’t look…” Inko looks slightly queasy, but Izuku is nonplussed. It’s been a long few months, and he’s gotten used to seeing Kacchan beat other people up, no matter how hard he tries to stop him from challenging older boys. 

(He's never really... minded blood. He doesn't know what that says about him.)

The days Kacchan gets angry he’ll sometimes leave burns so hot they start to bleed, and Izuku has little starburst scars peppering his upper arms and shoulders. 

(Inko wonders, for a moment, if she should ask why her little Izuku is so nonchalant-- or rather, underwhelmed-- by the sight of blood, but she dismisses it as her little Izu’s curiosity overwhelming his kindness, the fact that he’s roughoused a bit too much with little Katsuki. That’s her fourth clue, and she’ll recognize it far too late.)  

Instead of asking him why he isn't queasy from the blood, she turns a beatific smile towards him. 

“I’m sure he’ll be fine, dear. What’s his fighting style like?”

(As if she doesn't know.)

“Well, usually he fights one-on-one, that’s why I’m so concerned…” Izuku murmurs. “Although it looks like he’s in a group now, I think he’ll be alright…” 

“What’s his Quirk?”

“Well, he negates other Quirks. That’s why I’m freaked out, a bit… he’s fighting a mutant, so I guess physical attributes wouldn’t be cancelled out… I wonder if it's the Quirk Factor?” Izuku devolves into muttering, and Inko turns her gaze back to the TV screen, further worried. 

“A hero who practically fights Quirkless? That’s a bit…” She trails off, continuing the act, and reaffirms mentally. No, he must be strong if he’s a Pro Hero, even if he does essentially fight Quirkless. His Quirk is very powerful. 

(She knows. He's grown up.)

She, however, neglects to reaffirm orally, and so those words stick in the back of Izuku’s head far longer then healthy-- he picks them over, connects the dots, wonder is about himself-- and then the first tendrils of doubt begin to creep in. 

~~~

“Get out of the way, useless Deku. Ugh, can’t believe we landed in the same elementary class as him.” Tsubasa says, and Kacchan shoulders past with him. 

“Hi, Kacchan--” Izuku is cut off by a particularly threatening explosion, and he comes to a realization. 

Oh. 

Oh. The months of lost contact weren’t unintentional-- it was just… a convenience. A cutting of ties. Katsuki couldn’t be bothered with him anymore, not when he had such an amazing Quirk and Izuku hadn't shown a single ounce of one. 

“Freak,” Someone who’s overheard mutters nearby, spurred on by Kacchan’s teasing. 

Izuku worries his curls between his fingers, sighing. He hopes other people won’t take Kaccchan’s teasing as serious, because that could really hurt Kacchan’s hero career. And… maybe hurt Izuku a bit too.

It’ll be okay. He opens his Quirk Analysis For The Future: #7 and tries his best not to look at anyone in the room when he introduces himself as Quirkless. 

~~~

“Oh, no.” There’s a harsh tone of sorrow to Mama’s voice as she watches the news, Izuku notices, and he looks up. It’s not All Might’s crazy rescue from a half hour ago, it’s a news report on a poor Quirkless kid who… who committed suicide.

Izuku freezes, looking at the report, ice in his veins. Who would ever… why would they ever… when they could be heroes? Or cooks? Or Moms or Dads? Who would want to die? 

However, the look Mama gives Izuku, a slight glance backwards as he watches, worries him more then anything the news reports could ever say. 

~~~

“Mama?” Izuku asks, quiet, oh so quiet. 

“Yes, dear?” She responds, patient, ever so patient. 

“Can we go see if I, um… if I’m going to ever get a Quirk?” He waits, for a breathtaking second, for Mama to giggle, reassure him and say of course he’ll be getting a Quirk, he’s Izuku Midoriya, and Midoriyas never quit. 

The reassurance never comes. 

“Of course, darling. I’ll make an appointment with Tsubasa-kun this weekend.” 

~~~

“Oi, Quirkless freak.” Izuku tries to hide the slight wince he feels at thise words. 

“Tsubasa-kun.” He prides himself on the fact that he can keep his voice even and his smile on tight. 

“Is it true that another Quirkless kid committed suicide yesterday morning?” He asks, loudly. 

Izuku winces-- they’re only eight years old, why does Tsubasa know those crude words? Miss Tanako shoots him a dirty look, but she keeps her mouth shut, and Tsubasa is only emboldened. 

Then Kacchan walks in, at the worst possible moment, because Izuku is tired of everyone telling him he’s useless--

“Why are you telling me?”

“Why don’t you join them?” Comes the scathing comeback. 

“Because I’m not Quirkless. I’m not weak.” It’s the wrong thing to say, but Izuku is too annoyed to correct himself, say that Quirkless people aren’t useless, and have never been useless. He just doesn’t want to be--

“Hah?!” Katsuki says, large explosions flickering from his palms. “Have you been keeping a secret, Deku?!”

“No. My Quirk just hasn’t appeared yet,” Izuku’s traitorous mouth moves, and that’s the first day Kacchan leaves a broken bone. Miss Tanako stares at his arm with wide eyes, but he just shrugs it off and gives her a grin the best he can, tells her he tripped on the doorway. 

She won’t be able to do anything, anyway.

Just a few more years. 

~~~

“You should probably give up, since he’s already eight.” The doctor says, bluntly, dryly.

(That’s not how you should talk to a kid, mister.)  

Izuku holds his tongue though, because it feels like his stomach is dropping through the floor. 

“I don’t understand,” Inko murmurs, and shoots glances at Izuku. “He doesn’t have the extra toe joint…”

“Some Quirks just need a specific activation, I’m afraid-- like extreme stress. I don’t think young Izuku should worry about that, though.” The doctor smiles, ruffling his hair. “I’m sorry if this is disheartening, young man.” 

Izuku sits, numb, but then he looks up and grins furiously, as if brandishing his teeth will ward off all of the scary thoughts in his head. 

(Is it true is it true am I really useless Quirkless Deku?)

When they drive back, Inko calls his name, and he draws his gaze away from the window, a strange buzzing in his gut, a sense of wrongness that’s descended over him. 

“Oh, Mama-- did you say something?”

She smiles at him. 

“This just means your Quirk could come in any time, dear. Don’t lose hope.” She gives him a glowing Midoriya smile, and he finds the energy to smile back, as if he can’t see the worry in his Mama’s eyes. 

“Yeah, Mama! I’ll be like All Might!” And not for the first time, the words feel chalky and useless in his mouth. 

~~~

Izuku has gotten very good at dressing injuries. 

He knows this because Mama doesn’t comment on the fact that he gets blood on his collars anymore, and all of his recent bruises have been covered perfectly fine. Kacchan doesn’t want to be his friend anymore, but Izuku is okay with that, if it’ll mean he stops getting hit. He shouldn’t be starting middle school like this. The other kids bully him, too, but he thinks he’s maybe gotten a bit too desensitized to care. 

He doesn’t care about anyone anymore, really. Just his Mama. His Mama and him will be together forever, and he’ll train and train and she’ll cry when he becomes the Number One hero, because that’s all that’s left for him to do. 

Stand, at the top, alone. 

(Can you? Can you really, Izuku? You don’t have a Quirk. You’re useless.)  

~~~

Midoriya Izuku wakes up from his third-ever dream sobbing and screaming. His Mama stands over him, panic in her eyes, as he looks up at her and cries harder, because how is he supposed to convey into words that he’d just seen Mama cough up blood, that he’d watched her die?  

What kind of dreams were these, where he had superpowers that made him look like the shadows, or like lightning flew across his arms, if his Mama died in all of them? 

“What’s wrong, baby, what’s wrong?” In that moment, Izuku aches for a friend-- he loves his Mama, but how is he supposed to tell her he saw her dead? Unfortunately for Izuku, he can’t reassure his Mama this time, because his traitorous mouth slips too soon. 

“You were dying, Mama. It was awful.”

Her hands still on his back, and when he looks up, finally drying his tears, he’s surprised to find them shining in the edges of her eyes. 

“I’m sorry, Izuku. That must’ve been scary, huh?” Something in her voice wavers, and then changes. Izuku, looking back on this moment, will curse himself for his ignorance, but this Izuku is far too distressed to see the tenseness in her face.

“Yeah, Mama. It was.”

They sit like that, quiet, for a bit. And then Izuku looks back up at his Mama, and she smiles down at him. 

“Say, Izuku, would you like to open a coffee shop with me?” 

~~~

Excerpt from Midoriya Izuku’s Quirk Profile, Quirk Analysis Notebook #8, Ver. 1.0 :

• I’m going to get an awesome Quirk! You watch, Kacchan!

TO BE CONTINUED…

Chapter Text

~A Reasonable Idea~

Inko Midoriya considered herself a reasonable woman. 

She’d courted Hisashi for years, unsure if she should marry a Pro Hero but unable to stop herself from falling in love. 

She tried to always go hero-merch-shopping for Izuku whenever she could, and she always found the best deals in the supermarket. 

She loved Izuku with her whole heart, and when he first came home with singed clothes and burnt hands she was willing to put up with it because of his obvious hunger for knowledge. 

But now she was watching her little baby fall apart, and he’d been coming home holding himself far too delicately since elementary school, and she couldn’t let him keep getting hurt. And now that Izuku was scared of her dying-- and, well, who wouldn’t be? 

The doctor, when he’d told her all those years ago that there was something wrong with her body, that something was out of place, and did she want treatment? freaked her out quite a bit. But she’d been tight on money then, and she was now, and she refused it. 

(She knew where the injury came from, but back then she still had Hisashi and Izuku was bright on the horizon and nothing, nothing at all could make her quit doing what she loved.)

Even when they’d x-rayed her, shown her the-- the tumors--

Because she couldn’t afford it, not without Hisashi, not if it meant risking her beautiful, beautiful son--

That surgery didn’t have a good success rate, and Inko had thought she would like to leave Izuku later rather then sooner. 

When Izuku had hit the nail on the head with his nightmares, she realized she couldn’t be reasonable anymore. She’d have to tell him now, that she was very very sick, before he found out himself, but she didn’t know how to start, or when, because it couldn’t be now that she had to say it, could it? Here, a fragile little boy crying his eyes out. 

And yet, she opens her mouth. 

“Say, Izuku, would you like to open a coffee shop with me?” Izuku stops crying, looks up at her with those universe-eating eyes, and stares. 

“Mama… what?” He’s so surprised that his tears stop from one second to the next, and his breathing calms down quite a bit. That’s good, Inko muses, but now what is she supposed to say?

“Ah, well, dear… it’s been a sort of dream of mine for years, and I was just thinking… would you like to be homeschooled?” 

Ah, there she goes, putting her foot in her mouth for the second time. This was not how she wanted to start this conversation-- where was Hisashi when she needed him? 

Well, she amended. He was six feet under the ground in Kamino, but she could have used his speaking skills right now. 

Izuku blinks, marvelously befuddled. Indeed, he’s entirely confused now, and that means there’s no room for sadness, but now Inko is having this conversation, the one she’d dreaded since she found out she was going to die before she could send her little Izuku off to high school. 

“You want me to be… homeschooled?”

“Yes, dear. You could finish the courses on your own time, and you could spend the rest of the day doing things you liked!” She steers away from Katsuki, any mentions of the blood or the burns or the few times he’d told her he’d fallen and he thought he may have broken an arm (a wrist a leg a rib-- ), and focuses on what’s always drawn Izuku in. Knowledge.

“Wow! I could really do that? And I could help you with a coffee shop?” Izuku looks up at her, eyes impossibly bright and wide, and she can’t help but sniff back tears at how eager he is. 

“Yes, dear. You could go whatever pace you liked.” 

“I want to do it! Then I could get a head start on being a hero!” 

She doesn’t say the coffee shop is for him, for when she’s passed and left him behind, and he realizes that he doesn’t know what to do. It’s for a semblance of normalcy, because unlike her, he won’t have a son to take care of so he can forget someone dear’s passing. 

Hisashi’s empty space by her in the bed still makes her heart ache every night, but she can move on to better things because of Izuku. 

“Of course, dear. Should we start looking for a coffee shop, then?” She asks, kind smile back in place.

She knows this won’t be permanent, that it’s impossible, nearly, to think that her Izuku will be safe in their little apartment when she’s gone, but there’s still the slightest chance she could make this work, and so she fights for it. 

~~~

Exactly three weeks later, Izuku cries out in triumph as he sits by her, and she sifts through their many letters from the day. Inko looks up, smiling at the sight-- Izuku looking down at his new laptop, aglow in happiness at their soon to be discarded kitchen table, surrounded by plain old cardboard boxes and still managing to shine.

“Mama! I did it! I finished all of the middle school course requirements! Look, look! ” He turns the screen towards her, bubbling with joy, and she giggles softly. 

“Indeed you did. And just in time, too-- it looks like the moving truck is nearly full, dear. Are you ready?” 

“Oh, wow, already?” Izuku casts a look around their apartment, no doubt smiling at the various marks on the floor, on the walls. A patched up piece where Katsuki had been too eager. Mismatched paint spots where Izuku had plastered hero memorabilia-- a discolored rectangle where the TV was, another where his prized All Might tapestry had been. His room was a funny, pockmarked thing, all of his hero merchandise packed neatly in boxes. 

“Let’s go, Izuku!” She smiles at him as he packs away his laptop, his stacks of notebooks, and his three most prized pieces of merch-- his Eraserhead hoodie, an All Might exclusive figure, and an outdated piece of her husband’s merchandise. 

“Yeah, Mama, let's go!” The past few weeks have been a dizzying mess of bargaining, planning, test cooking, packing and Izuku speeding through the middle school course. When they step out the door, Izuku turns back a moment, and they wordlessly gaze upon the house he’d grown up in. 

With a flick of her finger, Inko brings out the rest of the boxes and pulls them into the truck, Izuku ooh-ing and ahh-ing at the sight. 

(She didn’t use her Quirk flashily, not since Hisashi had passed. The days of power and strategy were gone, gone especially with him.)

They don’t say goodbye to the Bakugous, as much as Inko aches to see Mitsuki and Masaru one more time, because she’s seen the scars on her Izuku and she doesn’t think she can forgive them, as much as she wants to. 

~~~

“Mama, is this for real?!” Izuku gasps when he sees one of his birthday gifts. They’re celebrating both his birthday and the successful move into the apartment above the cafe, and Inko smiles. 

For the first time, it’s not hero figurines she gets him for his birthday-- though Christmas will be a different testament-- instead, it’s a lean staff, and a lifelong membership to both the parkour gym and the nearest dojo, as well as seven more sleek notebooks for his quirk analysis. 

“Well, dear. If you want to be a hero, you have to be prepared, don’t you?” 

(She’s only so lucky Izuku doesn’t think to question why she’d picked a staff, or those particular places, as if she’d known what would work and what didn’t.)

The look he gives her takes away all of the fatigue she feels, finally moving into the cafe, and she matches his wide grin this time. “Now, you’re going have to learn how to make coffee, aren’t you?” 

“Oh, right!” He looks at her, eyes blown comically wide. “I have no idea how to do that yet!” 

Yet. Oh, how she adores her son. 

~~~

“Pleased to meet you!” Inko smiles at the blue-haired girl, as if she hasn’t been here before. Izuku stares, openly gaping. 

Maruda Hiyo is barely older then he is, but her Quirk is something strange to behold-- the grace with which she holds herself, even as young as she is, is quite amazing to see. She’s shadowing the shop owner, but Inko has no doubts little Maruda will take over in just a few years. 

“Wow! The way you step is amazing! What’s your Quirk?! I’m Midoriya Izuku!” Izuku rattles off, and Inko snorts behind her hand as the girl blushes-- and isn’t it strange, for rather then blushing red, she turns plum blue-- and she tries to answer all of Izuku’s rapid-fire conversation. 

The gym receptionist winks at Inko, and she smiles back, looks down at the two children. 

“Hiyo, do you mind showing the Midoriyas around the rooms?” The small girl brightens up, smiling shyly. 

“I’d love to! Feel free to call me Hiyo too, by the way… I should make customers as comfortable as possible!” She says with a slightly more confident grin. Izuku sputters. 

“But that’s-- that’s your first name!” 

“Yeah… I know it’s weird, but you’ll be here for a while, right? Dad said I had to be welcoming…”

“M-maruda-chan… I can’t…” 

“Oh, right, the facilities.” Both turn away from one another, blushing. 

(Three months will bring Inko, pale-faced and shaking with exertion, to the hardest difficulty room, where she will watch Izuku sail through the air like it’s first nature to him. 

She’ll smile, even when he sprains his ankle showing off, because it’ll remind her of herself, and of Hisashi before he was Hisashi to her, and just Firecracker, the man-child who was bad at catching vigilantes.) 

~~~

“Izuku, dear…” She begins to call out when she feels her breath catch in her throat, and in an awful moment of nausea, she coughs into her hand. 

Blood. She blinks down at it, and tears make her vision burn. 

It had made it to her lungs, and she’d known, she’d talked to Mr. Tsubasa, they had known--

“Mama? I’ll be down in a few minutes! This course is really kicking my butt!” Izuku calls down from their apartment, above the cafe where she's finally finished accessorizing. 

She’s running out of time, and it’s never been more evident then in this moment, staring at herself in the mirror above the sink. 

Thankfully, the coughing subsides, and Izuku comes down not a moment too soon. “Oh, wow! Are the displays plugged in, too?” He asks, marvelling at the sight of their little cafe. She looks out at the just-rising sun, and casts a suspicious look at Izuku. 

“How long have you been working on that, young man? It’s barely dawn! Did you sleep?” She berates, good-naturedly. 

“Uh… hey, won’t we need someone for the register?” He asks, changing the subject. 

(He won’t think to ask why she isn’t harsher on him until it’s too late.)

She looks out at their little space, full of little pastry displays and a chalkboard wall, a drink fridge and tall windows that let in the sun, but, if the favor she’s called in holds, not bullets or fire. 

“You better be getting the proper amount of sleep, young man!” She scolds, holding back laughter. “And I was thinking you would operate the register.” He turns to her, aghast. 

“But then who will help you with the pastries and coffee?” 

She blinks. “Are you underestimating me, Izuku Midoriya?” 

“No, no! Hey, maybe I can do both!” He says, and she snickers. 

“I’m sure you can. How’s the CPR training going?” She asks, and watches in amusement as his eyebrows knit together. 

“Mama, I finished that one ages ago, and that one’s supposed to be done in person! I’m working on identifying unstable building structure--” he stops in the middle of his sentence when he realizes Inko’s just been messing with him, and his cheeks redden. “Hey!” 

“Sorry, dear. That was… that was quite amusing.”

“Hmph.” Then he looks around, really looks, and turns a warm smile to her. He’s just as proud of it as she is, she thinks. “We did it, Mama!” 

“That we did, Izuku. Now that we’re here, we have to… I think we should lay down some ground rules that I’ve thought up. You should know them!” 

“Alright, hit me with it,” He says, and she smiles. He’s come such a long way since the little quiet boy from elementary. He’s more like his toddler self then anything else, loud and outgoing and confident. 

“I think,” she says, carefully, “That we should accept anyone who comes in here.” He nods, and she tries to keep her grin to herself. 

(If Hisashi heard her say those words with who she had in mind, he would probably roll his eyes. But she can forgive him. Her husband hadn't known the tragedy behind her contact.)  

“And… there is no good or evil inside this coffee shop, okay? There’s just going to be respect.” He snorts. 

“Of course, Mama! Who else would we be?” He says cheekily, but then his eyes widen. “Oh, man, could you imagine if a hero walked in here? I might actually catch on fire! I’d have to ask them everything and… oh. I probably shouldn’t harass them about their Quirks, should I? That’s the respect part…” 

She waits as he mutters, puzzling it out. “I think I get it now, Mama! Wow, you’re good at this!” 

“Can you think of anything else, Izuku?” She murmurs as she looks out at busy Musutafu, at sunrise, and Izuku rubs the last bits of sleep from his eyes. 

“Maybe… that animals are allowed?” He says bashfully, and she giggles. "More specifically... cats?"

“Is this your way of saying you want a cat cafe?” 

“...Yes?” 

“Hm. Maybe we can adopt one cat ourselves, Izu, but the rest have to be strays, alright?” 

“Okay, Mama! ...Can we pick one out today, please?” 

She bursts into laughter, and Izuku just turns redder, but his eyes are sincere. 

That night, they welcome one last member into their unopened cafe, a little black cat with blue eyes and a single white ear. Izuku calls her Midnight, and the double meaning is not lost on Inko. She teases him a lot for it, but after he insists that she’s the hero who looks like her the most, Mama it’s not weird, she lets it drop. 

~~~

“Um… Tanaka-san…?” Inko is just as confused as Izuku is at the creaking dojang and the darkened reception. Fortunately for her, she can see movement even in darkness, and steels herself to keep from lashing out when a woman jumps out of the shadows to plop her hand on Izuku’s head. 

Little Izuku jumps with a startled squeak, and then turns in time to be tripped. 

“Heya, little guy! You’re tiny!” 

Izuku looks up, visibly startled, and Inko halfheartedly pretends to be surprised as well. She’d be angry if not for the gleam in Tanaka’s eyes, and the warmth in the smile lines around her mouth. Tanaka is a good woman.

(She knows Inko, but not properly.)

“Nice to meet you--" Inko begins. 

“Imma call you green bean!” Tanaka says at the same time, snapping her finger and then hoisting Izuku up with so much force he nearly falls again, face-first. “Can’t wait to start packin’ some muscle on ya!” 

Izuku turns to Inko, excited, cheek slightly dusty. 

Inko doesn’t have the heart to tell him the ass-beating he’ll take time and time again. 

~~~

“Mama, we did it!” Izuku wipes a bit of flour off of his face, and she takes out the last batch of croissants with her Quirk, sliding them into the display, trusting her power to bring them to her. 

“Yes we did, Izu!” She smiles at him and waves her hand. The sign turns on, a hybrid between an open sign and a mess of fairy lights, and the grand opening of the Viridian Cafe begins with little fanfare, on a quiet Tuesday morning before the sun comes up. 

~~~

Later that day, Inko gets into her car, smiles at Izuku and tells him to trust her when he asks where they’re going. 

They end out in front of a hospital, and Izuku stares at Inko with wide, stricken eyes. "Is something wrong, Mama?"

“Oh, dear! Don’t worry, we're just visiting someone.”

“Who? I know you worked in a hospital, but…”

(Well, she thinks. That wasn’t exactly what she had used to do. But her job had led her to Rei, so a little white lie couldn’t hurt anyone, could it?) 

“Could you grab those red-and-white flowers, dear? Yes, they’re called Amaryllises. They’re very pretty, aren’t they?” 

“Is this the right room, Mama?” Izuku looks at the door. “Are we visiting… wait, where have I heard that name before?”

“Call her Rei, dear.” 

“Not… not Todoroki-san?” 

“No. She’s a good friend, Izuku. You’d best take care of her and visit when I’m busy, alright?”

“All by myself?!”

“Yes! You can do that, right?”

“Alright, Mama. I’ll do it!”

“Thank you, Izuku. Now. Shall we go say hello?”

“You brought the cookies, right?”

"Yes!” 

Rei is a lovely person. She’s funny, but quiet, and Inko is glad she reconnected with her from when she had quit her job for the cafe. Izuku seems taken with her as well, gasping with awe when she makes frost appear on the window panes, not once bringing up Todoroki Enji or fire. 

Inko aches to tell him about Shouto, about how they’re the same age, but when it comes to discussing more private affairs, she ushers Izuku out into the waiting room.

She tells Rei her full story, smiling pleasantly all the while, even when Rei’s face pales and she sheds a few tears. 

Rei understands what it’s like to lose your children, after all. 

When Izuku smiles and brandishes the sweets, she nearly cries again, and Inko almost joins her, but the look on Izuku’s face is enough to make her laugh instead.

(The days when they worked together are long since over-- neither of them have had that kind of freedom for a long time.) 

~~~

Inko sits on the floor of their apartment, frowning at the sudden change in scenery. This is not where she wanted to end up-- she was going to go back downstairs where Izuku was cleaning off the tables. Why weren’t her legs obeying her? 

And then she feels the warm slosh of blood in her mouth and coughs-- one, twice, three times, and knows she must begin preparing. Midnight walks over to her, along with the new stray Izuku had dubbed Grease-- after some obscure English thing-- and they rub against her motionless legs. 

~~~

One day, while Inko was tending to the register, just as the sun was glowing it’s last hint of honey-yellow rays, an argument began in the cafe. 

Now, Inko wasn’t blind. She’d known that people had been eyeing other people, strange characters looking at other shadier folk, because everyone in the cafe was welcomed as long as they were civil, which brought along rather many different ones. She knew that it was going to be difficult to enforce the law, especially with today’s world, but she had hope. 

Izuku had charmed many of the regulars, and most people were, indeed, just normal business-people or students out for the day on weekends. 

But she heard murmurs that were rapidly escalating to shouts, and she was a bit worried because Izuku was out there waiting on people and being a cashier, and she hoped he wasn’t about to get into the thick of it. Hastily, she got out of the kitchen to go see what was going on, only to see two people seemingly utterly determined to fight one another. 

One was a man with shimmering gold-blue scales on his cheeks and on various portions of his body, whilst the other looked to possess a full-mutation Quirk that made it’s user look like a komodo dragon. Before Inko can speak up about the disturbance, her Izuku was tromping over and separating the two of them. 

“What’s going on here, exactly?” He asked from between the two of them, and Inko felt a squeeze of pride from her heart, as well as an equally hard squeeze of anxiety, because her Izuku, while steadily packing on muscle, was still far more fragile then two angry grown men. There were growls and murmurs of an unintelligible conversation, and the cozily packed cafe was all of a sudden tense and quiet. 

Izuku was watching the two of them-- really watching, Inko realized, since he was looking at their body language-- and spoke lowly to the both of them. Astonished, she watched as he handed the Komodo-Quirk a card and ushered him to sit down at a table, and then talked to the other. 

Once they had both left, small… well, not quite smiles, she wouldn’t go that far, but they were less grimaces then earlier, the cafe goers had applauded lightly, and Izuku had smiled at them all, beaming brightly as if it were no trouble to him at all. 

Only Inko heard the explanation, sees him nursing a black eye in the back room later on. 

“Quirk discrimination, and something about a job interview? I got him to a place where he could work, you know, without committing assault.” Izuku looks wryly up at her, and she can't help but burst into snickers, taken aback. 

His sense of humor was ridiculously similar to Hisashi’s, one that she could never tell if she should be exasperated by or appreciative of. 

It only occurred to her later on to wonder how the hell, exactly, her baby boy had found someone willing to take on a person for full wage without having met them yet, and what sort of influence they exuded over her Izuku… Or vice versa, of course. 

~~~

“Dear, do you want to try baking the linzer tart recipe you showed me the other day?” Inko bustles into Izuku’s room, only to see him staring intently at… “Is that security camera footage?” Inko asks, worriedly. Their cafe has a security camera and it is linked to the tapes in Izuku’s laptop, but this footage is from… a street. “Did you hack into police records?!” She asks, alarmed. Izuku looks up like a deer in headlights, and he shuts the notebook he’s holding. She raises an eyebrow. 

“Can I start high school courses?” He asks in lieu of an answer, and Inko is so thrown that she forgets her anger. 

For years, Izuku had been going on and on about the rather famous UA high school, the one All Might and Endeavor and so many other famous heroes had gone to and became famous. If Izuku took the high school courses, he probably wouldn’t be going to UA, and Izuku thought this detestable-- that’s why he’d been putting it off for so long. 

So what had changed? Maybe it was the irregular acceptance UA had revealed earlier in the year in the news, that those who wanted could join their second and third years, if they were skilled enough. Perhaps Izuku’s lack of a Quirk had been affecting him more then Inko saw, despite the fact that she’d taken him out of an environment where it was necessary. 

“Well… yes, I suppose you can, dear. Isn’t that a bit much, what with parkour and the dojo and helping me with the cafe?” His chest puffs out, and he grins. 

“Nope!” It’s only until later that she remembers that he’d been doing something definitely illegal. 

Her baby boy may be taking after her a bit more then she anticipated. 

~~~

“...Mom?” How strange it is, to hear that word come out of Izuku’s mouth. It’s always been Mama, ever since he could talk, besides the day of his 3rd birthday, when he’d looked up at her with so much wonder and pain in his eyes she didn’t know what to think, and called her ‘Mom’.

She supposes she owes him an explanation now, and that shock can make even the most basic of motor functions fail. Maybe that’s why he’s calling her Mom now. 

The two Midoriyas regard each other with unease-- one with horror, the other with resignation-- as blood drips out of Midoriya Inko’s mouth from her collapsed figure by their coffee table. 

“Izuku.” The one word breaks him from his trance, and he rushes forward, picks her up like she weighs nothing and props her up on the couch, listens for the blood she knows is rattling around in her throat. 

“How long has it been like this? Mama, what’s wrong? Why didn’t you tell me?” He whispers, and she looks up at him, waits until it doesn’t feel like her limbs are fuzzy any more. 

“I’m going to tell you now, Izuku. I’ll tell you now.” And then they sit at the dinner table, and they talk. 

TO BE CONTINUED… 

Chapter Text

~All the Lovely Things Are Fragile~

Izuku had just been expecting another normal day-- he’d just come back from the parkour gym, and Tanaka-sensei had given one of her sparse compliments. He was so happy, and definitely ready to try out the cookie recipe he’d been promising his Mama for so long, only to find… that she collapsed on the ground, blood gushing from her nose, her mouth.

And now she’s saying she’d known, and she was… she was dying? 

“You want me to what?” He sits, reeling, as she blinks back tears. He should be crying, too, he thinks. That’s what he would have done any other day. He cried this morning when he saw a bird with an injured wing. 

“When I’m gone, I want you to keep running the cafe, Izuku, same as usual. Maybe hire someone for the cash register, like you said, so that you could take some days off. Help people however you can, alright? Your Dad’s bank account still gets money delivered to it to help us, and as long as you keep with the cafe, you’ll be able to live however you like. You got that, Izuku?” She smashes his face between her hands, and he stares at her, not comprehending

Mama, who’d been there as long as he’d remember, was going to be gone? Who decided that, and how was it fair? 

“How are you sick, Mama?” He asks, lucratively. It’s not going to help their situation, but he’s got to know. 

“It's lung cancer, Izuku. It’s something from a long time ago, and it’s not treatable. Mr. Tsubasa told me about it, when we went to go see him about your Quirk, do you remember?”

Right. His Quirk-- the stupid thing that would never unfold, that was the reason they moved away from Kacchan and the rest of the bullies, the reason he’s homeschooled. He wasn’t stupid, he knew it wasn’t for ‘hero preparation’. 

Mama just wanted him to be safe, and he respected that, but… 

“Are you sure he didn’t lie? He was lying about me being Quirkless, too!” He says, and she gives him a soft look. 

“It’ll be alright, Izuku, I promise. I think I am sick, darling, much as I don’t want him to be right.” At that look, tears finally prick his eyes, and all of a sudden he’s sobbing, and he’s so angry, that it can’t be right, because his Mama didn’t deserve this, not after her husband died and her son was useless and Quirkless and bullied and her only best friend was driven away from her because of HIM--  

Three futures meld off because of Izuku’s tears, four more from Inko’s look, but at this notion, thirty thousand variations open up, and somehow, somewhere, someone feels the changes in the air, in the Quirk.  

“I’m going to change that,” He sobs, frustrated and powerless. Because of him she was miserable, because he didn’t have a Quirk, because he was useless and powerless and-- 

And he couldn’t change it, could he? He was just a useless Deku, after all. 

Yeah, you stupid nerd. You just realized?

“Izu--” 

Suddenly, thousands of plausible futures begin to blink out, away from his reach. They’re not his futures now, because in those futures, Mama is alive, or he’s friends with Kacchan, or he wasn’t ever bullied in the first place. But those futures doesn't just disappear, like the last strings of dreams Izuku hasn’t been able to recall lately, they appear brighter then ever, for privileged eyes, for a pair of emerald green that’ve always contained secrets far too large for them inside, and-- 

Izuku screams. 

~~~

When he wakes up, it’s to his mother’s panicked calling. Izuku looks up, and the first thing she does is gasp, which, he supposes, is a viable response. Izuku looks around, with new eyes, and then down, examining his hands. 

They’re the same, but also quite different--

One’s covered in blood

The other in pockmarked scars

Another in bubbling blisters

This one’s missing a finger

They’re all sets of his hands, but he doesn't dance in lightning or shadows or blood, so what is this?

Izuku looks up at his Mama, (Momdeadalivehappysadabsuivescarysacredvictimaliveburned) and then down at Grease (Eraserhead’scatathomeHitoshiShinsouShadowcatcafeKouda-kun) and at their cafe (BatteredhomehalfburnedcharredbrokenallmightLIEDpicturesshatteredmom’sgonedad’shereallforonedeceptionHURT) and realizes something. 

“Mom.” Mama flinches, and he does too, because he’s never called her Mom before, and shouldn’t it feel stranger? 

“Izuku…? Are you okay?”

“I have a Quirk.” He blinks up at her, blunt and honest, because it isn’t a wish, or a lie. It just is, and he realizes it’s the little missing piece he’d always mistaken for homesickness. “I think I’m going to go throw up now,” He murmurs, and leaves Mama sitting there, shocked. 

When he comes back, they stare at each other, and then his face breaks out in a huge grin, despite the horrible news he’d gotten. “I have a Quirk!” He turns to her, tears in his eyes. “I’ll find a way to help you, I promise.” 

~~~

For a long while, they both forget about the conversation about death and legacy they’d had, and Izuku dives headfirst into discovering what exactly his Quirk is. 

“I don’t understand it, Mom!” He’d cried out one day (Inko was still slightly unsettled by the fact he’d switched from Mama to Mom so easily, but she never let it show), throwing his hands up. “It’s like I can see futures that aren’t mine! ” 

“What do you mean, dear?” Mom had asked him, and he’d nearly cried for the frustration. 

He didn’t know how to explain it-- it was as if at random times in the day, he’d look upon something and it would be a different place, a different time and a different memory. Once, he could have sworn he saw All Might, and he had no idea how to navigate each future properly.

He was so close, and yet he didn’t understand it at all! 

“There are futures, or places, or different worlds, that I can see from just the brush of a hand or a look, but they’re… random. They’re utterly sporadic, and I don’t understand any of it!” He pulls his hands through his curls in frustration, while Mom just chuckled softly. 

“I’m sure you’ll figure it out, dear. We’ve been working so hard on your analysis lately!”

She kneaded more of the last of the puff pastry dough, and the bell to the cafe dinged, despite the fact that it was just seven minutes after opening. 

“If you say so,” Izuku muttered as he went to the counter. “Hello, what can I get you?”

He’s met with a guy who looks kind of like a nightmare he’d had a long time ago, with raven black hair (dyed) and staples holding his scar tissue together to his healthy skin (he should get that healed) and sapphire eyes that burn into his own. 

Izuku blinks, feels his future inexorably tangled with his own, and clutches his chest for the strangeness of it. 

This man… he looks…

He looks like Endeavor, yes, if you take in the eyes, but…

More then that, he looks like Todoroki Rei, whom Izuku had met with a few times over the past two weeks. 

“Just a black coffee with a croissant, please,” The man says, tiredly, and Izuku notes the smell of smoke coming off of him-- cigarette and that of something else, something distinctly sweeter… as he turns around to the coffeemaker he wrinkled his nose. 

“Coming right up!”

Burning flesh. He’s just smelled burning flesh, he’s near positive of it. 

“Hey, kid,” He hears as he begins to bag a croissant, and he looks up over the counter just far enough to see the man again. Doesn’t he want his croissant? Izuku can’t get it like this. 

“Yes, sir?”

“How old are you?” Izuku hums. He’d been wondering about that too, lately. 

“Thirteen.” The man blinks and looks at him, brows furrowed. 

“Shouldn’t you be at school, kid? Aren’t you supposed to be applying to high school nowadays?” 

Izuku doesn’t see the merit in turning this guy away, but it was still a bit weird to have these questions asked about him. Well, whatever-- he understands the need for knowledge. 

“I’ve already finished a half-year of high school courses online, sir. I’m homeschooled. Would you like anything else with this?” He asks, shaking the croissant in the bag slightly, as he straightens up. 

“Huh. You must be smart then, kid. Good for you. And I think that’ll be it.” 

“Of course, sir!” Izuku turns around, hunting for Mom’s bag, and finds the little tube of unopened burn cream she always has on her, just in case, because Midoriyas are observant and this guy’s managed to torch his elbow somehow. As he sets the coffee and the croissant in it’s bag down, he adds the burn cream and smiles. “7$, please!” 

The man looks at him, raises an eyebrow. 

“What’s the big idea? Are you giving me burn cream so I owe you one?” Izuku snorts at the retort, and he doesn’t manage to clap his hand over his mouth in time. 

“With all due respect, sir, burns are ass and you’re already 70% burned tissue. Please, take the cream for your elbow.” He takes the proffered money and smiles as the man’s eyes widen marginally. “Have a good day!” 

It’s only once the man leaves that Izuku bolts into the kitchen, sits down in the corner and gasps for air. 

“Izuku? Were you sassing the customers again?” Mom calls, and he chuckles despite his shortening breath. 

“Just the one that deserved it, this early in the morning,” he calls back weakly, and a second later Mom walks in, rolling her eyes, until she sees Izuku’s face. 

“Are you alright? What happened?” She asks, kneeling down by him. 

“That man is a villain in places, Mom,” He says, hiding his face away in his arms. “I brushed his fingers and I saw what he did-- but I also saw what happened to him, and what organization he belonged to, and it was the same in nearly all of the futures I saw!” He gasped out, turning tearful eyes to her. “Mom, Endeavor hurt him, him and the whole family, and he’s a villain, and he’s killed people and I just gave him a coffee, and he looked so tired… and he’s Rei-san’s child, I’m near-positive about it!” She sits back, her breath hissing through her teeth as she thinks. 

“Well, they’re all different timelines, aren’t they, Izu? They can’t be what happens in this world then, can they?” She watches the worry seep from his shoulders, but his eyes are another story-- they shine with the possibilities, however dark and dreary the information he’s just been presented with is, and he’s itching to go write this down, as sickened as he feels by it. 

“I hope you’re right, Mom.” 

~~~

Excerpt from Midoriya Izuku’s Quirk Profile, Quirk Analysis Notebook #29, Ver. 2.0:

Name: ???

Class: Emitter

• Side Note: Physical manifestations in eyes, which glow, and appearance, which can flicker through and imitate others (?).

Strengths: 

I don’t have much on my Quirk right now, but there have been newer developments. 

• Can travel through futures that could happen through my eyes; Under hysterical strength, can switch through multiple futures, enough that my physical appearance flickers as well
• Practical Application: Intimidation factor? As well as observation and data-collection, but if it isn’t really my future how reliable is it? 

• Can travel into a realm of half-awakeness - Present is the tangible world, while In-Between is the realm between awake and not awake-- this is where the threads are, and where the Quirk shows me the futures
• Practical Application: Can I reach in there? Store things? Is it a real place? Can I reach out and touch the strings? Why have I never tried this before? 
• Can see the possibilities of futures that are not mine; Under hysterical strength, can see small possibilities of what my future can be 
• Practical Application: Process of Elimination (if ___ isn’t here, then ___ will ___.)
• Practical Application: By examining all of the futures that were nearest to occurring at any given moment, I can put together who will appear in my future and what their abilities are
• Side note: While the Quirks and abilities of those around me don’t change, mine as my own vary crazily, depending on which future I’m viewing. 
• Practical Application: Those who have appeared in other timelines as something concrete like Villain or Vigilante will not be the same in my future, and I can use this for deduction

Drawbacks:

• Mild Quirk Overuse: Headache, not too severe
• General Quirk Overuse: Nose begins to bleed, threads leave last impressions on vision, some dissociation
• High Quirk Overuse: Nose, eyes and mouth bleed, headache blooms to migraine, Present becomes flat and monochrome, general lack of apathy/numbness

~~~

Izuku purses his lips as the sun goes down, staring at the shutters that hadn’t gone down with it. 

“Mom, did we do this properly?” He asks, worriedly, poking at the titanium. 

“Hmm? Oh, maybe not. Has the sun already gone down?” Mom walks over to the shutters, examining them. “Perhaps there’s something wrong in the breaker box…?” She murmurs, and Izuku scarcely has time to think about it before she’s flouncing to the kitchen with a call of ‘let me go check!’

“Weird,” He mutters, but shrugs and grabs the keys to lock up for the night. It’d been a gratifying day, and he was finally beginning to get into a rhythm. He hums as he shuffles through the keys, distractedly wondering why they hadn’t turned off the radio yet. Well, it was nice music--

THUD

“Ack?!” Izuku just about jumps a meter in the air, hand going to his side to grab a staff that isn’t there. He turns and stares at the slowly sliding silhouette of… well, someone, he couldn’t tell if it was any cafe goer from here… on the windows of the Viridian. 

“What the hell…?” He blinks as he watches the person roar and get back up on their feet, spines growing rigidly out of their back. “Is there a fight going on?” 

He throws the door open, against the rest of his screaming instincts, and examines the face of the now-mutating-again person. He doesn’t recognize them as a villain, so who-- 

The (porcupine mutation?) man turns and Izuku has two moments to see wild eyes roll in their sockets before spines come shooting at him and he yelps and ducks back into the cafe. The door slams shut, clay bells chiming, but not before the out-of-control man charges at the glass, seeing Izuku--

And then is slammed to the side by two silhouettes. 

“Huh…?” Izuku opens the door cautiously to see the man slumped over on the ground, spikes retracted. “Huh? What…” He watches the rope wind itself round the man’s chest, the person in front of him well-practiced. 

He stares at the three silhouettes, feeling awe bubble in his chest. He’d scarcely had time to react, even as his Quirk had screamed at him, but they--

“Are you alright?” Two men and a woman, from the looks of it-- a hero trio? No, he hadn’t heard of any coming to Mustafu, not recently, and definitely not around UA, so who could they--

“Oh, me?” He asks dumbly, because now they’re staring at him funny. “Yes, I’m fine.”

“You’re a barista at this cafe? Thought it looked new,” The lithe woman (?) says, putting a finger to her chin. She’s got pink hair and blue eyes, and a ridiculously short skirt-- no, Izuku was not looking, he wasn’t. 

“Good to know you’re alright! We have to call the police, can you watch this guy for us?” The middle-sized man says, adorned in a limited-edition All Might hoodie. Izuku’s seen them before, he knows it. 

The enormous, brick-wall visage of the oldest and most intimidating man (wearing brass knuckles, was it?) kneels down by the KOed person and reaches into his… mouth? 

This is getting a mite bit bizarre for Izuku. 

“Um, who are you people?” 

“You mean you’ve never heard of us?” The smaller man says in mock-horror. “Pop, we’re not popular at all!” 

The girl wearing copious amounts of eye makeup snorts. “I mean, I am just a local idol. Vigilante. Er… person.” 

Izuku stares, and then it clicks. “You’re Pop☆Step and the Hauler! And… er, is that Knuckleduster?” 

Izuku stares as the man crows in triumph, pulling out the tongue of the person-- the tip of it is blackened, is that from a drug?-- and then stands up. 

“I’m not the Hauler, I’m The Crawler!” The man in the All Might hoodie says with a whine, and Izuku nods slowly. 

“And I’m not affiliated with them,” The girl, Pop☆Step, says with a jab at the other two. 

“O...kay.”

“This guy’s been using Trigger. Just once or twice, but I did hit ‘im too hard, so I can’t really ask how he did. Guess we leave that to the police. We should go now,” Knuckleduster says gruffly, walking up to them. 

Izuku is still in shock, he’s pretty sure. “Um… do your best!” 

The girl snickers as the Haul-- Crawler, right, the Crawler, makes a cheesy peace sign. 

“Goodbye then!” 

“...Feel free to stop by for coffee, if you like? I can get you some in the house…” Izuku says, dazedly, as he watches Knuckleduster shoot a grappling hook at a nearby building. Pop☆Step jumps in the air, and the Crawler reaches down. 

“Tell Tsukauchi-kun I say hello,” is the last response he gets before they speed off. Izuku looks at the-- civilian, he must have been, because he didn’t seem to be a thug or anything, which brings up even more questions of how and why, but then he doesn’t get a chance to voice them, because his mom comes back upstairs and stares at the police cars pulling up in concern. 

“Did you get caught, dear?” 

“Doing what?!” Izuku says, alarmed. “What are you accusing me of, Mom?”

They share a commiserating look that communicates that Mom knows everything Izuku has ever checked out (okay, so he did stop a small gang once, so the footage was necessary, okay?) before he pouts and she snorts. 

“Never mind.” 

“The glass held up pretty well against porcupine spines…” Izuku looks at the unblemished windows with more than just an ounce of suspicion. “Strange…”

“Well, it’s good and reliable then!” His mom says, and he stares at her and then starts to snicker. 

They both laugh for a good long few minutes before a wary detective walks in and Izuku gets to rant to his mom about three awesome vigilantes. 

He, of course, holds his tongue in front of the detective, though. He’s a Midoriya, after all. 

(Later, when he’s grief-stricken and properly equipped, he’ll search for the drug named Trigger, the vigilantes who were fighting it. 

He may even meet them again. 

But that is neither here nor there.)

~~~

“Tanaka-sensei…?” Izuku ducks into the small side-doored place in an eerie recreation of the first time he’d stopped in here, months ago. 

It’s dark, and it’s almost as though she’d forgotten that he would be there, but-- 

He turns, grabs the fist that comes down to meet him and rolls to the side, going for a leg sweep that sadly, he misses. 

--he doesn’t fall for the same trick twice. 

“Evening, sprout!” She says cheerfully, with a grunt of exertion when Izuku kicks her in the side. “Kicks are--” She grabs his knee and he feels his life flash before his eyes for two seconds before he squirms out of her hold-- 

“Riskier, I know!” He wheezes, vaulting backwards and flicking his staff out. He aims at the backs of her knees, but she pivots and they hit her biceps instead, so much so that he has to duck and roll to the other side. Soon she’s throwing earnest blows at him, which he has to deflect with his staff.

This is like a ritual for them-- say hello, get warmed up, move with the staff, then spar without. Tanaka-sensei moved on a whim-- much like her Quirk, which was a minor speed augmentation Quirk. She moved faster, gathered torque, and hit harder. 

But she was respectful, and Izuku knows she’d never really hurt him for the sake of training. Because of this, he is free to just fight, and coupled with Maruda’s teaching and the parkour gym, Tanaka-sensei’s flexibility training and her hard muscle-building exercises, he--

--he loves to fight, and he’s good at it. 

This ease with which he can deal with his moving body doesn’t apply anywhere else in his life, which is sad, he thinks distantly. God knows he’d be a more confident person if that happened. It is also the reason when today he spots an opening, he follows through with his blow, for the first time ever. 

Tanaka-sensei hits the mats, and they stare at one another. Izuku hadn’t even gotten a chance to take off his shoes or coat yet. 

Then she bursts into boisterous laughter, and Izuku follows suit after a bit disbelievingly. 

“I knew ya were ready, ya lean green bean!” 

“I was… you… what?” Izuku blinks, a bit dazed, and definitely out of breath. 

“You did it, for the first time, green bean. You knocked me down, fair and square.” She grins up at him, the scars on her cheeks stretching as she does, and Izuku smiles back, tersely and then fully. 

Even when she then proceeds to take his outstretched hand and yank him down onto the mats, facefirst. 

“Ow,” He mutters into the foam. 

“Round two!” She says brightly, bouncing on her heels. “I haven’t whipped you into good enough shape just yet, you zygote!” 

~~~

“Deku, where the hell did you get a goddamn Quirk from, you fucking freak?!”

Kacchan is suddenly barreling at him, across the field. He barely has enough time to flinch and then he’s near, explosions bigger then ever. Izuku shields his face, desperately muttering something along the lines of ‘I didn’t--I meant to--I always--Kacchan, I--’ until a rather familiar capture weapon snakes out and seizes Kacchan, his explosions stopping. 

Izuku looks, and watches as a man with glowing crimson eyes fixes onto his oldest bully, black hair rising, capture weapon floating with it. That’s Eraserhead, in whatever place he’s in right now he’s being taught by Eraserhead, and how crazy is that? 

And from the looks of tracksuits, and the silhouette in the sky, he’s in UA. UA High School where he’s learning to be a hero, and he… has a Quirk? 

Just as Izuku comes to terms with the strange universe he’s landed in, his alarm clock beeps, and he wakes up with a groan. 

“Are you awake, dear?” Mom calls from her room, and Izuku holds back a whimper as he thinks of what could have been, and then there’s a gasp. “Oh, goodness! That’s a bit…”

“Mom? What is it?” Instantly, he’s on his feet. He knows Mom has slowly been getting weaker, bit by bit, but the TV is on and this doesn’t seem like the proper sort of annoyance that always seems to flush out of her when she collapses. 

“Well, it seems like two villains fought down the street from us! What did you say the man who walked in here yesterday morning called himself…?”

“I, uh, didn’t. Why?” Izuku throws on a shirt, and then stares, mouth agape, as he watches the man with the stitched-together face combust an awful thing of slime. “...Oh.” He blinks again. “...Villains? He’s a villain? That man was a villain?!” He cries out, alarmed. “But then that means that things from other timelines can carry over to ours!” He splutters, and Mom looks at him until it dawns on her too, her mouth perching into a thoughtful ‘o’. 

“Well, he combusted a villain after he attacked a child. I'm not sure if that's villainy or vigilantism... do you think you can focus on him now, Izu, and see?” She asks, and he looks to the television, doubtful. 

“I might as well try, right?” 

Carefully, Izuku closes his eyes, reaches for the threads beyond his sight, and then his world explodes with colors-- and somehow, in some way, with the billions of people in the world, he sings out and the perfect color sings back to him, this man with the sapphire eyes, and Izuku flashes through millions of worlds, fractured futures, thing that can and cannot exist any longer-- and from the outside, Mom must be scared, because he’s crying, because this man’s life is so sad, he’s not just a villain-- he’s hurt and scared and Endeavor hurts him and what kind of a hero hurts people like that and he’s just trying his best, so why can’t he have a good life? 

He grabs the closest threads, the ones that are the most identical to the world he exists in now, and watches. Slowly, his tears fade, and he sits, horrified. 

BurninghurtfireblueredyellowwhitehowDAREheShoutolovehatejealousyfearstandupSTANDUPyouwillneverbegoodenough-- he opens his eyes and looks at his mom, white-faced and shaking.

“Oh, darling.” Her voice is filled with sympathy, and tears prick at the edges of her eyes, but Izuku is not thinking about that right now. 

“Mom, can I have your hand?” He asks faintly, afraid, because he'd felt those timelines and they had been so close, so close… and if that was what it took, then he’d scour through every timeline just to make sure that the Quirk doctor was lying, and that nothing bad would happen. 

“Yes…” She places her hand hesitantly in his and he closes his eyes, waits for the flickers of color across his vision to solidify into threads, millions of glowing threads, as the world expands around him in a brilliant smattering of memories woven together. 

He scans around, picks one at random, and flicks through it. 

There are millions, billions, fathomless numbers of threads so spread out it looks like the world under his eyelids is on fire, but he knows which ones to grab, which ones to pull and reach and examine with the infinite gentleness of a god. 

He flashes through ideas, fishes through all of the possible ways things can twist and turn, doesn’t stop even when his mother cries out in alarm and something warm drips out of his nose, his mouth, his eyes-- his ears. 

He feels his heart thumping more then he hears it, but he just has to keep searching , because this can’t be right, because why is his mom gone in all of these, where are her bright threads of happiness--? 

He breaks off as he finds a cluster of thousands of futures, branching off of a singular moment, a singular life. Izuku looks at it, because it isn’t too far off of his bright, inaccessible future, so maybe his mother is--? 

He watches, sees her age with him, and wants to cry, though he barely spares a passing glance at everything else. 

If she’s alive, that’s enough. How does he fulfill this future? Excitedly, he rifles through, stretching his sight further and further back, looking for the beginning of Izuku Midoriya and then-- oh. 

Oh no. 

Izuku stares, looking at his own young face and his tears, but this is wrong, this is incorrect, because he doesn't have a pinky toe joint, and...

And that is what is needed to save Inko Midoriya. Quirklessness.

His weakness. With a snarl of disgust, Izuku rips himself away from the threads, opens his eyes, looks out into the world that seems so dull and unwelcoming compared to the snapping, fizzing colors of the threads behind his eyelids, and he comes back. 

Mom stares at him as she dabs at his face, and a relieved smile breaks through the cloud of worry in her eyes. 

He has a death grip on her hand, he realizes faintly, but he can’t bring himself to care, because he’s looking at Mom and he still hasn’t found a timeline where he saves her, which would normally be good because that would mean it was possible for him in this timeline, but Dabi was a villain and he was a villain somwhere else, so how could he do it? 

He’d have to find a future, a place, a past, something, a broken and snapped thread even, that he could find to save Mom. 

Hot tears spill down his cheeks, mingling with what he will later realize is blood from Quirk overuse as he looks at her in desperation. She’s running out of time, and so is he. 

“Mama, it’s no use,” He says, quietly, burying his face into her shoulder, soaking her shirt with blood and the traditional Midoriya tears, because he’s scared, because she’s all he has.

“Dear,” She says quietly, because she knows it isn’t alright, even if she’s not quite sure what he’s talking about.

“I’m going to save him,” Izuku says, looking back up at her. She blinks down at him, and her face splits into something soft. 

“Of course you will.” 

A silence, far more comfortable then what had been there before. 

~~~

Sometimes, Izuku will hear his mother pause by his room, his door always cracked open because what if, what if, he doesn’t know what happens here as he practices. He practices for hours, despite the doctor’s and his own Mom’s warnings to stop hurting himself.

He’s training, and his brain is slowly building up resistance, going from neon to dull to fizzy to blank. He holds a bowl in front of him, just in case his nose starts to bleed again, and he closes his eyes every day for at least an hour, and he looks.  

He finds numerous things, amazing things-- futures where he’s a villain, pasts where he’s hurt. 

He finds awful futures that show him dying, jumping off the roof just in time to see a pair of scarlet eyes meet his. 

One time, he thinks he even sees a future where he can see people who are not there, or meet demons from the dead. 

He peruses through the millions of places, people, even catching feelings, words, body language. 

He wonders how these millions of futures could possibly stem from a single branch-- himself-- and marvels at All Might, cherry blossoms, cats, and anything in between. 

He lives years in his head, picks up on phrases and how to pick locks and reading lips, and sometimes when he goes to say something to his mother, the words tumble out of his mouth in English, or French, or even Korean. 

Some days he’s tired and haunted, while on other days he laughs with his mouth stretched wide. 

His notebooks begin to get fuller and fuller-- he notes, with growing fascination, that everyone in each future has some kind of aspect of Quirk that he can connect to the originals he’s seen in this future (he’s the only anomaly, something that festers in his head) and that there are hundreds of others he interacts with in other futures with amazing quirks. 

He finds people over and over and over again, and he realizes they’re begging to be saved. 

Some of them are past saving, but Izuku vows that if he ever meets them in his future, he’s going to save them. His notebook splits into two branches-- his normal Quirk Analysis notebook line, but then another new sequence that is simply titled To Save.  

He tries his best not to think of Todoroki Touya— Dabi, they called him— from weeks ago, but it itches at him. He longs to throw himself into other futures, but he knows it would just tear him apart, and he has no one to talk to about something as delicate as his Quirk. 

Only Mom even marginally understood, and she’s dying, because he can’t find a solution anywhere.

He throws himself into studying, into tending to the cafe with Mom, and taking care of Midnight, Grease, and their family of kittens, and looking. He looks and he looks, and every day he gets a bit more frantic, a bit more manic. He needs to prepare, and so he needs time.  

For all that Midoriya Izuku’s Quirk can do, all of his peering through the veils of time and whatever paradoxes exist In-Between, he can’t see a solution to his own life. 

~~~

Izuku contemplates going to the Quirk Registry, registering with the vaguest name he can get away with, just so he could say he wasn't Quirkless anymore. He'd begun to think of it by it's own name-- a bit preposterous of one, and definitely pompous-- but it's a name nonetheless. 

When he asks his mother, quietly, if they should go register it, Inko gives him a long, silent look. 

"Is that what you want, dear?"

For a terrifying moment, Izuku thinks he's angered her, and that that isn't what she'd been thinking of doing at all, but then he sees the concern in her eyes, and realizes she really is just asking him.

(For some strange, irreversible reason, the threads that brush the back of his eyelids twang, and in them Izuku hears a resounding no.)

"...No, I don't think so." He says faintly, looking down at his hands. Somehow, he knew he had to protect it. 

"Alright, dear." Inko says, a kind smile on her face, weariness round her eyes. 

("Smart boy.")

~~~

“Izuku, dear?” It’s a quiet night, and Izuku is just mopping the floor, deep in thought and only half in the Present time, threads flashing and interlocking and begging him to join the world he’s dubbed In-Between, but Mom’s voice startles him. 

He brings the tray of leftover treats (there were barely any-- two cheese danishes and a small mocha cake were all that was left to error in Izuku’s latest experimentation) with him as he trumps up the stairs to meet her. 

“Yeah, Mom?” He opens the door to her room and looks about, mouth agape. “Mom, what blew through here?!” It looks, quite frankly, like there’s been a villain attack in her bedroom, and Mom is sitting in the middle of it, in front of a few boxes and some neatly stacked papers. 

“I did,” She pouts, and then they chuckle as she levitates a paper to smack him in the back of the head. 

“Hey!” Izuku looks around again, and then down at the papers, setting down the pastries on the one unscathed dresser. “What is this for, exactly?” 

“All the legal records for… things.” Mom smiles up at him, and he feels his blood turn to slush, cold fear trickling down his neck. He hates when they talk about these things, but, well…

“Cheese danish?” He asks, imitating Present Mic and sweeping his arm out. She laughs, bright and pure, and he grins at her, and it makes what they have to do a lot easier for some reason. 

Once they’re both done and in the midst of sharing the cake, Mom finally speaks up, and yeah, Izuku is feeling pretty damn scared right about now, but can you blame him? He’s only been avoiding this conversation for like a year.

“Your analysis,” Mom starts, and Izuku blinks, startled. “Keep doing it.” He stares at her.

Of course he’s going to keep doing it, why wouldn’t he?

At his bewildered expression, Mom huffs out a soft laugh. “Of course you’ll keep doing it. Everything’s in your computer, yes?” A nod. Okay, Izuku can do this. That was an easy question. “And you’re continuing high school courses?” He nods again. At this, Mom sighs a bit. “Dear, is there a reason you don’t want to go to UA anymore?” 

At that, he stops, tilts his head, contemplates. 

“Not really,” he says, mildly confused as to why he doesn’t feel any more bothered by this realization-- hadn’t he wanted to go there, because of All Might? When had that desire become less of a fire and more of a slight itch? “I think I just like it better here.” 

She smiles again at this, and he marvels at how peaceful Mom seems. Certainly more peaceful than during any part of their previous lives. 

“That’s acceptable. I know you’ve learnt decently how to code, and by extension, hack, so that should be alright.” He tries to disguise the fact that he just choked with another bite of cake. “I’m not quite sure how people are going to react to you living by yourself, but we can always say it's a boarding situation, and that your guardian is off for business. We don’t really have any other relatives we could send you off to, and this is a place you’re going to need to take care of, darling.” He nods. That goes unspoken. “Training and parkour obviously seems to be going well for you, and you already know how to run the shop.” Mom nods. “You know how to cook, clean, iron, study, take care of the cats, bake, manage finances…” She turns to look at him. “Ah, yes, I’m going to have to teach you how to do taxes, huh?” 

He blinks at her in astonished silence before Mom bursts into laughter. He follows not long after, and then she does exactly that. 

“It’s going to be quiet, when…” He stops, and swallows hard. 

Mom turns to look at him, dark eyes shining with… with pride, he realizes and it makes the knot in his throat worse. 

“No, it won’t be, Izuku. You’ll have Midnight, Grease and their family, all of the cafe regulars, and all the people you save.” He turns to look at her. 

“Who will I save?” He asks hoarsely, and she smiles so softly. 

“Everyone you can, Izuku. I think you can save everyone in your notebooks, and far more then that. It doesn’t matter if you never become an official hero, because sometimes all it takes to save someone is to smile and wish them a good day.” 

And now Izuku finally cries, because it’s so different from the muted apologies he’d gotten years ago, watching that video of All Might, and he wishes for more time, desperately, frustratedly, because he’s so close, he’s scouring the timelines every day, so why can’t he find what he needs to find?! 

Mom rubs circles onto his back until he feels a bit like himself, and he sits up, and looks back down at the sheafs of paper-- legal things, like his birth certificate and passport and who will own the cafe once Mom is gone, and how they’re going to keep him here, taking care of the cafe, and how to deal with customers, and schedules and a will and taxes-- and then he stares down at the taxes again, eyelid twitching, because he’s in the midst of a mental breakdown and yet the taxes are still just lying there, unassuming, easily the most obnoxious thing Izuku’s ever had to deal with in his life, minus Kacchan. 

So instead of bursting into tears again, he bursts into laughter. 

~~~

That night, Izuku Midoriya will have a dream, and it will be worse then a nightmare. They say dreams don’t come true, and for this he begs to agree, because only nightmares can possibly happen in real life, it seems. 

Izuku dreams of what will happen and the threads behind his eyelids, the secrets trapped in his eyes like beetles in amber, laugh and laugh and snap someone’s life in half. 

~~~

Izuku has come to terms that their fragile lifestyle will not exist for very much longer, but he loves it too much to abandon it and try to do crazier things with Mom. He knows she’s worried about him, that he’ll be lonely when she’s--

(nope he refuses to think about it)

--that he’ll be lonely, but he can’t explain how he feels when he’s launched from future to future, interacting with people, making entire lifestyles, getting to know them through his could-be selves. 

When he wakes up this particular day, he’s feeling pretty hopeful. He may have even found a universe close enough to him that he could save Mom, and that was the uttermost important thing to him. 

“Izuku dear, I’m going out to grab a few things before we open, could you get ready and come here?” Mom calls from the other room, and Izuku voices some sort of assent before he’s sweeping up, and putting the beginnings of the treats that will line displays today in the oven. 

“Have a safe trip! I’m going to see if I can make the frappes properly this time!” He calls back, and hears her laughter as confirmation. 

Somehow, however, he ends up cleaning, long after she’s gone and the world has become silent. 

Grease, Midnight, and the three kittens that he’s dubbed Egg Roll, Red Bean and Eraser (Mom had exclaimed that Midnight would feel left out if everyone else had food names, so he’d named their tabby Eraserhead in retribution, since he looked nothing like the Pro and also seemed to despise her mother, Grease) weave between his legs, meowing questioningly. 

Mom had just started to really harvest the roof garden they’d perfected a few weeks ago, and he’d nearly forgotten to water the plants. Where was the tubing he needed for it…? Is that what he was looking for? Did she say it was in the bottom of the closet?

Instead of that, he finds a heavy crate with a single unmarked envelope on the top of it. What on earth could this be? His mind blinks to Mom, and Izuku is momentarily confused before deciding it’s probably better to just open it and find out. 

There’s a three-letter lock on the crate, somehow, and when he opens the envelope all that is there is a single sticky note and around thirty business cards bound by a rubber band. What the… He looks at the sticky note and snorts at what’s written on it before connecting the dots. 

What do Midoriyas always do spectacularly?

He glances at the three-letter lock and rolls his eyes, despite that fact that whomever had set this lock was right, if his hunch was correct. C-R-Y.

Yep, the lock had just clicked open. Wonderful. 

And then Izuku’s eyes bug out, because wow the inside of this crate was not a crate at all, but something that looks like it came out of the latest FBI conspiracy movie that was out. 

There’s a clunky and metallic case in the bottom, which he pulls out to investigate later, another envelope taped to the lid, and all the legal documentation for the cafe. 

So wait, Mom put this here? How did that work, exactly? Why did she even have this? There’s one more loose envelope, so Izuku grabs it and opens this one first, finding two pieces of paper firmly folded up into one another. “Eenie, meenie, miney, moe…” 

Dear Izuku, it begins in an unfamiliar handwriting, and the breath catches in the back of Izuku’s throat as he realizes it’s not his mother’s but his father’s . 

Dear Izuku, 

If you’re reading this then I have died. I’m truly sorry that I haven’t been able to stand by your side and watch you grow up, but I’m sure Inko has done a lovely job of raising you into an admirable young man. She will explain all of my intents and purposes, so I have the luxury of being as vague as possible. I do not want to burden you with lack of information, but if this falls into hands that are not yours, things will get confusing. The business cards all favor your mother and I, favors we have acquired over time and have not used yet, and your mama will definitely explain to you what they mean. The second envelope is something to get you started, and the case is a helpful accompaniment to being heroic. 

I am sorry that I cannot be more thorough about this. I love you, son. 

Izuku blinks, once, twice, three times. A few tears plop onto the paper, but he isn’t as overcome with grief as he might have been if his father hadn’t been a Pro Hero, had been slightly more present in his life. That just makes him more anxious, however, to read the next letter, because if it was as new as it looked, he was… well. 

Might as well open it already. 

My dearest Izuku, aaaand he’s already blinking back tears. That’s his Mom’s handwriting, yep. 

I am so sorry that I have to leave you like this. He sucks in a breath. Had she planned this for… for when (Don’t think about it, don’t think DON’T) --? 

You should know a few things-- I have lied a few times. Well, that was a bit of an unexpected contribution. 

Hisashi and I met while he was on the job, yes-- but while I was on the job, too. He blinks. Okay…?

Did you ever wonder why I encouraged your analysis? Of Quirks, specifically? How we did that special project on grey morality, how I gave you the parkour and gym subscriptions? Yes, he did. He was infinitesimally grateful for it, but why…?  

When I met Hisashi, it was hero Firecracker and vigilante Polaris who spoke first. He stops. Polaris…? What did that have to do with anything-- Your father had a hell of a right hook.

The paper flutters out of his hands, and Red Bean goes to nose at it until Izuku picks it back up, head spinning. 

His mother had been a vigilante, once upon a time? And not just a vigilante, but Polaris? He was going to have to update his notes, and extensively so. 

“No wonder she never used her Quirk much…” He murmurs, and continues reading.

Your father and I put a firm stop to my vigilantism when I became pregnant with you, obviously, but there are a few tricks I still had left up my sleeve. Anytime you need help, or you’re stuck in a tough spot, feel free to call any one of those business cards. If they ask you who you are, tell them you are the devilspawn Polaris warned you of (Especially Tensei, he’ll have a riot with it), but be sure to hide who you really are. If you call Iidaten, they can probably get you in contact with just about anyone in the hero community. The Almighty Agency is always swamped, the poor dears, but if you wanted to call to see if Nighteye could help you with what your mind-boggling Quirk is, I’m sure they'd be lenient towards you. There are vigilantes, heroes, engineers, support workers, I-Island experts, people from Korea and America, doctors-- Recovery Girl is in there, if need be-- and underground affiliates who don’t give their number lightly. Tread carefully, dear, and please investigate thoroughly before you make any moves in advance. Of course, I don’t need to tell you this, dear. Just so you know I believe in you. The last two things-- whenever you are making your calls to anyone, use the burner phone in the bottom of this case. It’s untraceable, and I had quite the fun with it when it was first made. And as for the suit-- one band goes on each wrist, one on each ankle, and then the visor, gauntlets and so on. It will protect you from most things, but you are not indestructible, Izuku! Don’t get yourself killed, you hear me? Ah, yes. If you aren’t going to go to UA, the costume will always be great for vigilantism.  

Izuku chokes, staring alarmedly at those words. Did his Mom-- his soft-spoken, sweet mom, seriously just suggest that? Then he remembers that she became best friends with Mitsuki for a reason, and-- right, she was a vigilante-- merely sighs. She was scarily observant. 

Yes, young man, I did notice all of the borderline illegal things you were doing. You really must work on disguising your tracks next time! 

The money-- Money? Izuku looks down at the other envelope and gulps nervously-- should be enough in case you have to emergency spend on something. 

Remember to be kind, and that I love you. Please send good wishes to the Hatsumes, and visit Miss Rei often.

I think that’s it, dear. Be kind to everyone, never throw the first punch, and save all that you can. 

I love you, 

Mama. 

There’s a list attached with every business card listed, and he feels the urge to smile through the tears dripping down his face, because his Mom is ridiculously thorough. There’s even a card that just says ‘funerals’.

Well, you did have to get it from somewhere, stupid nerd.  

When Mom got back home, he’d have to confront her about this, prepping it all without telling him, but for now, childish glee takes over all of his inner turmoil as he opens the glittering metallic case-inside-the-case, and puts on the bracelets and anklets. 

A tap from a button and he’s suddenly in sleek, Kevlar-reinforced (and apparently… kinetic energy absorbing?) material covered up to his neck in hexagons of dark green bordering on black. 

The pseudo visor-helmet he puts on casts an illusion over his face, doing nothing to hinder his actual vision, and there are all manners of sensors. 

The gauntlets, braces, boots and gloves are next, and then the strange belt filled with things. Izuku feels like a kid during Christmas, and despite his sheepishness at being so easily figured out by Mom, this has to be one of the greatest damn gifts he’s ever gotten, and he is putting it into action as soon as he finds the time to. 

Once he carefully takes it all off, he finds that yes, there is indeed a burner phone, all of the business cards match up, and wow that is a lot more yen than he’s ever seen in his entire life. 

What kind of emergency purchases did his parents think he was going to be making? You know what-- did he want to know the answer to that? Probably not. Absently, he wonders what’s taking Mom so long as he slides the lock back into place and the case back into the closet, scolding Egg Roll as he attempts to stay inside the closet with it. 

He trumps up the stairs up to the roof, and grabs the hose to water all of the blooming gardenias. They were Mom’s favorite flowers, and he privately thought they looked like him, just a little bit. As he’s up there, he catches the faint smell of smoke and wrinkles his nose-- he’s so immersed in the threads sparking behind his half-lidded eyes he ignores completely the black in the air, or the distant flickering of chaos, too far off to be quite loud enough to break through his musings. 

When he comes back downstairs, after making sure all cats are accounted for and the doors are locked, he remains at the counter and turns on the TV. “A bit empty on the streets today, huh, Eraser?” He murmurs as he looks out. 

“ --There has just been another rebound explosion as XXX place, we are told that Endeavor is on the scene but it seems his fires are exacerbating the damages--” Izuku looks up, and for a moment, is about to go back to getting ready to flip the ‘open’ sign up once and for all. 

But then he looks up once again, and, well, Mom never specified, but isn’t that where she liked to go shopping…? He shrugs it off, takes in a few stragglers not afraid of the raging battle a few blocks away, and waits. They’re probably holding everyone back, and with his Mom’s luck, she’s had to wait. He flips the sign back to closed again, lies down on the couch upstairs, and waits. 

...Maybe he should call her. She always leaves her phone on, anyway. Izuku frowns when he gets a voicemail message, and then he sighs, slightly more anxious.

She might’ve collapsed, which is in no way a good thing, but the location tracker says that she’s still in the grocery store, even if she’s been in one place for a while. He reasons he’ll just go on and help Mom with the groceries, anyways, and closes up. There've been sections of roads tapes off, and he merely ducks under them, knowing he’ll most likely be able to dodge anything that comes flying from above. 

Then he turns the corner, and a blast of unforgiving heat smashes into him, flattening his hair back against his head. He turns, alarmed, and his vision briefly whites out as to how powerful Endeavor’s fire is. He squints past the light and thinks he sees a silhouette of-- 

“Kamui Woods?!” He cries out. This isn’t like the fights Kamui Woods usually has-- the ones with civilians crowding as near to the caution tapes as possible, pictures being taken-- those are the fights he chooses. To be fair, Endeavor makes it a bit more difficult, but Izuku realizes belatedly that it might be because everyone has fled from the melting pavement and the villain glowing nearly hotter than Endeavor himself. 

Izuku purses his lips, because on the one hand, he needs to get to the grocery store, and maybe interrogate Mom on the contents of the crate he’d found, but on the other hand, these are the Rising Star and Number Two Heroes teaming up to fight what seems to be a particularly powerful villain, which is awesome.  

And then Endeavor moves over, and Izuku’s heart drops into his stomach, because two entire office buildings have been levelled, and right there-- 

Right there, that’s the grocery store Mom was in, she’s right there--

Before Izuku knows what he’s doing he’s bolting, sticking close to ruined buildings, by stores with cowering people on the inside, reaching desperately, because the structural integrity of that store was about to come crashing down to the ground, and-- 

And then Endeavor torches the villain, who leaps out of the way. Endeavor torches the little grocery store Izuku's been buying the best sugar and flour but recipes. 

Where his Mom was. Izuku stops, speechless with horror, and stares at Kamui Woods, who is aiding with evacuation. The villain is unscathed-- they merely burn hotter. There are news anchors above, helicopters flying above, but no one is doing anything, and the roof is caving, and Endeavor is roaring in frustration and all Izuku can think about is how does he help, how can he help? 

Something ripples past him, and in an instant, in one horrible, awful instant, Kacchan’s voice comes unbidden into his head again, like a second conscience. 

Haven't you gotten it into your head, useless nerd? You can’t. You’re as good as Quirkless. 

And then, right before Izuku’s disbelieving eyes, the top portion of the grocery store falls in on itself, down down down into a crumble of stone. 

In that moment, 1,300 futures snap behind his eyelids, put out before he could see them. 

And something in Midoriya Izuku snaps too. 

~~~

Izuku is smart. He knows it was probably just a patrol gone wrong, and that the villain had gotten out of control. If he were to turn, he might even have seen a boy his age standing there, mouth agape, white and red hair blown back by the wave the collapsing store creates in the air. 

But Izuku is angry, because his Mom is in that store, because these absolute assholes didn’t give two shits about property damage, and his Quirk, already brimming and exacerbated and ready to explode, changes again. 

The strings appear before him, in broad daylight, glittering like some demented spider’s web. Mindless with fury, in a t-shirt and jeans, Izuku strides right past the final swathes of caution tape, the huddled police barricades. He stands there, mouth agape, and for the first time gets a good look at the remnants of the store. Of the buildings. Of the blood that’s smeared into the cracks of the sidewalk, the road, and the villain. 

There’s no way she’s in there. 

For a moment, he looks at the villain glowing blue and he is inexplicably reminded of Dabi, someone who’d lost all the people he’d needed in his worst times. 

Unbeknownst to him, timelines flicker across his face, across his body, scars and burns and then nothing and then purity and then blue eyes and then silver hair and no freckles and a black suit and a hero suit and-- he flickers through them so fast he becomes a blur, because what is he supposed to do now?  

“TODOROKI ENJI!” He roars, at the top of his lungs, (He doesn’t know why, he would never say something like this, he can’t afford to distract them, but--) and shockwaves explode out of him. 

Everyone pauses, the villain pauses, and Endeavor takes that chance, finally gets to him, slaps the cuffs over his wrists, but Izuku doesn’t care, because something has just clicked into place for him and he doesn’t know what to do, so he runs and he runs as fast as he can, running to the grocery store, looking desperately for his Mom (She isn’t supposed to be hurt like this, she’s sick, he still has time) through the rubble, until his fingers bleed and he’s found people (alive alive alive) but it’s still not his Mom, his Mama, not a single one of them-- and sitting there, in the concrete and brick dust, staring at the blood on his hands, Midoriya Izuku’s Quirk evolves one last time, and in an awful, startling moment, Izuku sees his timeline, barely but a flicker, and then he sits, eyes wide. 

(“I’ll never forgive you,” One of the officers swears they hear, as EMTs pull up).

He sits, because there wasn’t a chance Mama survived, and who was he, to assume it?

(“What’s wrong, dear? Did you get caught up in it?”)

He sits, frozen, as police officers swarm him, telling him how ridiculously dangerous it was to be in there, as he is still flickering through multiple timelines.

(“That was my mom,” He whispers, hands placing themselves over his mouth, a sickening three-second snap creak BANG playing through his head, over and over again.)

He sits, and he stares-- at the tangle of threads he’s always come to know as Mama, the thread of strong cords, stares at them snap and flap uselessly In-Between, and he screams.  

A small voice rises up in the midst of his agony, tears and blood flowing from his eyes. 

Well, at least you found that crate beforehand, it says, and at that, something in Izuku, already frayed at the edges, disintegrates into nothingness. 

~~~

“Good morning, Izuku-kun!” Rei-san says, ever so softly and kindly. Izuku stares at her, unseeing. 

(Inko had said her little boy was, on occasion, unusual. Rei thinks she sees this now, in the way he looks through her, eyes unnaturally pale and horror-struck.)

“Rei-san, can you leave this place?”

“I’m afraid I can’t, dear. Why?” 

His chin trembles, and hot tears slip down his face, breaking through the web of apathy that had surrounded him. 

“Mom… mom is…” 

Rei stares at him, not comprehending, until he pitches forward and sobs into her lap, clutching her waist futilely. 

Finally, it clicks, and Rei’s delicate hands thread through his curls, shaking. 

“It’ll be alright, dear. It’ll be alright.”

(It won’t be.

Izuku won’t see Rei-san again for a long time.) 

~~~

Izuku doesn’t use the business card labelled funeral after all, because there is no body to be found, and for the first time, he realizes he is alone alone alone and he aches because there is no one else who could possibly cry with him. 

Two people in suits visit the Viridian Cafe, and they tell him what he already knows. He nods at them, pays the fee for a grave, sits at the cafe. Some of the regulars are disappointed that it’s not open, but Izuku can’t bring himself to care, spending hours and hours scanning through futures, snapped and broken, awake, and glowing, and reborn, and he prods his Quirk in every way he can, wondering what he did back then, numbly, because if he doesn’t all he’s going to be able to think about is how Mom (don’t say it don’t say it DON’T SAY IT)-- how she’s not here right now. 

He doesn’t visit her grave, even when he gets the email (an email, of all goddamned things), not right away. He signs the papers that give guardianship over to a cousin of Inko's who doesn't exist, and that's that. He's on his own now. 

He has things he needs to do, and his notebooks fill up even faster in the singular week he allows himself to grieve. 

He has too much-- Tanaka-sensei won’t be happy that he’s skipping training, and the parkour gym needs him there at least twice a week. 

He needs to re-open the cafe, lest he lose all of his regulars, he needs to water the garden, finish his school courses, he needs to-- he needs to-- He needs to cry. 

He doesn’t have time for crying. 

~~~

Izuku is confident in the fact that he will soon not have a healthy sleeping schedule. He thinks it’s futile, because he has to bake the pastries and start preparing the coffee before Viridian opens at 6, which will be tomorrow.

He has to work in the shop until 6 at night, sitting at the counter, serving customers, and dealing with Midnight and her family slinking around in the meantime. 

He works on his course-work all the time, and the beginning of the school year is bearing nearer and nearer. Then once work is done, he has to close up, make dinner, feed the cats, water the garden. 

He goes to the parkour gym twice a week for two hours, and the dojo the same amount on Thursdays and Saturdays. And once he gets time to himself, usually around eight or nine, he is going to (eventually, eventually) pick up the mantle of Polaris, of Mom, to find the people he can save. 

For now, he is content to shift through his dreams and search the darker parts of the internet to find who the heroes won’t save (or who they won’t be interested in saving, just like your M--) and do it himself, but his week of grieving is nearly up, and he’s got to pick himself back up off the ground, because that’s what Mom told him to do, and if he’s looking through the futures properly, everything he’s been through so far will be a piece of cake in comparison. 

So today he’ll visit Mom’s grave, (Which he knows has nothing inside of it, they didn’t have anything to bury, it was all BROKEN) and then. And then. 

The graveyard is quiet when he gets there, but the sun is shining and it doesn’t seem as dreary as he thought it would. This thought comforts him, somehow-- as if the ghost of Mom had taken one look at the place and though ‘Nope, nu-uh! We’re slapping some color in here!’ and now all of the trees and blooming flowers and even the sunshine was colorful. Izuku only sees one other person, whom he pays nearly no mind until he realizes the close proximity in which they are together, and reaches for the potted gardenias he has in a large brown bag. 

The ground is still a fresh brown, and Izuku takes a moment to look at the two headstones-- ten years apart, but with the same material, stone, and last name. 

Here lies Midoriya Hisashi, a friend, a husband and a father. 

Here lies Midoriya Inko, a friend, a wife and doting mother. 

Only standing here does it really sink in that things to do and a new sort of life to live, and Izuku finds himself blinking back tears yet again.

“You told yourself you weren’t going to cry,” He mutters, and sets down the gardenias.

It’s probably not allowed to plant them plant them, but damn it all if Izuku isn’t going to do it anyway. And then he looks up and over in curiosity, because there’s a man standing next to him, tall and wiry with a tuft of yellow hair, standing at the small, unassuming grave of someone he can’t read the name of. 

His face isn’t turned to Izuku, so Izuku doesn’t look at him, instead focusing on planting the gardenia straight into the ground. 

(“Let's plant these right here, Izuku, so they can grow big and strong!”) 

I guess Mom will technically help them grow. 

He looks up again to see if the man is still there, and startles a bit when he realizes he’s looking down at him. The threads flash, connecting to him in a tangle, and Izuku nearly gasps when he realizes what he’s looking at. 

Who he’s looking at. Because of that, as he is across nearly every other future, is All Might, in his true form. Evidently, All Might notices his startle, because he chuckles a bit, it’s soft, and sounds more like a voice-voice then an All-Might-voice. 

“Sorry for startling you, young man.”

Strangely, Izuku doesn’t feel like he’s out of place here-- rather, he feels that the graves are out of place, when the sun is shining and the birds chirping and it’s so strangely serene a stranger’s laughter doesn’t bring you confusion, just acceptance. Izuku nods once, and goes back to patting down the soil around the pot of gardenias. 

More silence. “I suppose it’s awkward to try and start a conversation in the middle of a graveyard, isn’t it?” And another small laugh. Izuku looks up again, and his eyes swell with tears-- somehow, somewhere, there is an Izuku who will be grieving for this man-- a possibility Izuku can’t account for, since he can only see his future if he’s about to die, apparently. 

“How long has it been?” He asks thickly, only just noticing the concern that flashes in All Might’s eyes when he starts crying (again), and wiping his eyes discreetly. 

“Ah.” All Might looks down, and now his face is slightly tightened with pain. Izuku has gone and put his foot in his mouth whilst talking to the Number One hero about a dead loved one, evidently. Imagine all the other sorts of fuck-ups he will endure in his life? Izuku shudders at the thought that he will become any more awkward, but then remembers the age-old grief he feels in his chest and looks to All Might once more. 

He isn’t truly sure of anything in this timeline, but he has a sinking suspicion who the small, worn-looking headstone belongs to. 

“More than a few decades, I’m afraid,” All Might says, looking down. “And you, young…?”

“Izuku,” Izuku offers. “Midoriya Izuku.” 

“Young Midoriya.” He looks at the twin gravestones by Izuku, who tries his hardest not to start sobbing again. 

“It’s been 10 years for him… and seven…” His throat closes up and he fights against it, swallowing hard. All Might is patient, looking down on him. “Seven days for her,” He finishes with a hoarse whisper, and this is not a conversation they should be having in this kind of weather. 

All Might’s eyes widen again, and a part of Izuku’s brain is trying not to giggle, because All Might is so obvious with facial expressions that he must not be able to lie even if he tries, which is simultaneously so befitting and unfitting of a hero it’s nearly laughable, but the other half is still in pain, so he stays silent. 

“Ah. I am truly sorry for your loss.”

“You too,” Izuku says, and the words feel plastic in his mouth, because nothing will quite be enough, not quite adequately. 

They sit in silence, and finally, All Might leaves to go, dusting his pants off slightly. Izuku looks back down at his last gardenia-- he doesn’t think he has the strength to plant it on top of his father’s grave, and he’s not sure if it would have been his father’s favorite flower anyway. “Mister,” he calls out, because he is not about to reveal that he knows who All Might really is, and he pauses.

“You can just call me Toshinori.”

(Izuku wonders— is that his first name in this world too?)

“Would you like a gardenia?” He offers the not-yet-bush up, in it’s little pot, a single buttery white flower bloomed upon it already. “I’m not going to plant this one too. I have a whole garden at Viridian,” He adds hastily. 

All Might looks at him, an unexpected softness in his steel blue eyes, and takes the pot with gentle hands. He nods once, and Izuku smiles at him, an unexpected patch of warmth lighting up the back of his neck, as if someone was patting him there, proudly. 

“Thank you, young Midoriya.”

“It’s no problem, Mr. Toshinori!” Once he’s gone, Izuku turns back to his parent’s graves and closes his eyes, focusing. 

The threads that flash across his vision sear white spots through and through, and he focuses on his past, which should be easy to remember, because that’s… well, that’s basic human memory, right? For whatever reason, it’s always been doubly difficult for him to recall what most people can recall in an instance, but he’s always recalled it in perfect, photographic memory, so maybe that’s it. 

He strings together every memory he had of Inko, and speeds through his lifetime as fast as he dares, watching all of their interactions from his point of view, and then the way his Quirk has preserved it-- even the ones before his Quirk manifested, which is strange, since it’s more of an eagle eye view then anything, he’d have to note that later-- and he just watches as everything plays out, noticing things about his Mom he’d never really registered before, and appreciating all of it. 

The wetness going down his face is blood, definitely, but he thinks he might also be crying too. All of a sudden, there’s a tug on his heart and he wants nothing more then to be there, reliving just a singular moment, just another minute with his mom he didn’t get to tell her he loved her--

There’s a hot flash of pain, like a million soda bubbles fizzing on the inside of his body, and when he opens his eyes again, it’s to Mom cheering and clapping a happy birthday out to him. 

He stares, uncomprehending, at her tall figure, and then down at his hands. 

“Happy Birthday, dear!” He blinks at her. It’s not his birthday, and since when has he been this small? He looks around wildly, and even spies his dad, raven-haired and amber-eyed, smiling down at him. Huh. That’s where his freckles are from. 

“Mom?” He asks, tilting his head to look up at her, startled and confused. 

The cake in front of him and the birthday hat on her head seems realistic enough, but then he’s looking at the banner that she’s put up that proclaims a proud ‘4!’ on it, and the precarious sense of reality he’d treasured just a few moments ago, as unbelievable as it had been, goes snap. 

All of a sudden, he’s careening through his head, and with a jerk his eyes work again, showing him the blue sky. 

He blinks up at it, confused, as mid-spring sun hits him in the face again, and he sits up, back in the graveyard, albeit covered in more blood then last time. His head pounds, and when he looks at the two headstones, particularly the one bearing the name of the woman he’d just seen less then thirty seconds ago, Izuku lunges for the paper bag and throws up. 

Once he’s done, he wipes blood out of his eyes and mouth and nose and-- well, what part of him isn’t bleeding right now? 

He feels awful, although he supposes it’s a good thing that he found a new piece of his Quirk. 

Was that his Quirk, or was it a hallucination? 

His head throbs, and he slumps back down into the grass in the graveyard, wondering what God has been merciful enough to give him this strange sense of apathy. 

Maybe it’s just Quirk exhaustion. His head throbs in agreement. 

Definitely Quirk exhaustion.

~~~

Midoriya Izuku sits in his overly comfortable bean bag chair, working feverishly over his computer. Egg Roll saunters over, and he takes the liberating moment in which she steps all over his keyboard as a sign to stretch, several parts of his spine cracking. Next to him is a lukewarm mug of coffee, a half-finished tray of ohagi and an unheated cup of instant ramen, as well as five cats who like to snuggle and a notebook filled to bursting with strange ciphers and codes, labelled simply To Save.  

He sighs, rubs his eyebrows, eyes no longer so empty-looking. They are filled to bursting with secrets again, always have been-- it’s just that now they also glimmer with resignation, and begrudging acceptance. 

“I have so much work to do…” 

~~~

Excerpt from Midoriya Izuku’s Quirk Profile, Quirk Analysis Notebook #29, Ver. 3.0:

Name: ???

Class: Emitter

• Side Note: Physical manifestations in eyes, which glow, and appearance, which can flicker through and imitate others (?).

Strengths: 

I will master this!

• Can travel through futures that could happen through my eyes; Under hysterical strength, can switch through multiple futures, enough that my physical appearance flickers as well
• Practical Application: Intimidation factor? As well as observation and data-collection, but if it isn’t really my future how reliable is it? 

• Can travel into a realm of half-awakeness - Present is the tangible world, while In-Between is the realm between awake and not awake-- this is where the threads are, and where the Quirk shows me the futures
• Practical Application: Can I reach in there? Store things? Is it a real place? Can I reach out and touch the strings? Why have I never tried this before? 
• Can see the possibilities of futures that are not mine; Under hysterical strength, can see small possibilities of what my future can be 
• Practical Application: Process of Elimination (if ___ isn’t here, then ___ will ___.)
• Practical Application: By examining all of the futures that were nearest to occurring at any given moment, I can put together who will appear in my future and what their abilities are
• Side note: While the Quirks and abilities of those around me don’t change, mine as my own vary crazily, depending on which future I’m viewing. 
• Practical Application: Those who have appeared in other timelines as something concrete like Villain or Vigilante will not be the same in my future, and I can use this for deduction
• Side note: This was wrong. Utterly, totally wrong. See ‘Todoroki Touya’ to confirm. 

• Can see the possibilities of futures that ARE mine; Under medium stress, unrealistic paths will begin to move further away, and only the most likely will stay, and these futures are the ones which I believe are most likely to occur; Under hysterical strength, can see what WILL happen in my future with absolute certainty. 
• Practical Application: Figure out what is going on 
• Practical Application: Battle Application 
• Side Note: Huge physical drawback. Use with caution. 
• Can travel back down my past and essentially re-live memories. Only tried twice-- the first trial, I only stayed long enough to confuse my mother and catch sight of my father. I do not know if it affected my past, because I travelled back to age 3 and do not recall those memories outside of my Quirk. Inconclusive Data. The second trial, I told Katsuki Bakugou (see page XXX of Quirk Analysis Notebook XX) something I’d never told him before, at seven years of age. Granted, this is a risky experiment since he hates my guts and has probably forgotten what I said if it registered at all. Nonetheless, I will probably need to get in contact with him to figure out if I can actually manipulate the past.
• Theoretical Practical Application: Save everyone that I’ve seen be left behind in previous futures! List is in the making (See Chapter XXX of [Redacted] for XXX). 
• Side Note: Could I travel back in time and warn others of impending events? All Might hurt himself in many of the timelines I’ve watched. Could I travel through them and save the people there as well? How far back can I travel? Can I travel back to before I existed in this body? If a time traveller sent me back to before I existed, how would my Quirk react? Could I, in theory, also travel forward on paths of the future? Could I force myself into someone else’s head by finding their futures? 
• I’ve been lying here for a while, and I was just wondering… what if all of the insane paths I’ve been seeing aren’t futures, but alternate realities? 
• ...I think I’m a bit too tired. 

Drawbacks:

• Mild Quirk Overuse: Headache, not too severe
• General Quirk Overuse: Nose begins to bleed, threads leave last impressions on vision, some dissociation
• High Quirk Overuse: Nose, eyes and mouth bleed, headache blooms to migraine, Present becomes flat and monochrome, general lack of apathy/numbness
• Extreme Quirk Overuse: Everything is pain. I bleed everywhere. Do not try again. Takes a cooldown period of 2-5 days, depending. 
• I also, for whatever reason, seem to need less sleep and less to eat. Is it because I spend so much time gaining energy looking In-Between?

TO BE CONTINUED...

Chapter Text

~For betterment?~

“How the hell am I supposed to do this?” Izuku groans as his head snaps back once again, stopping the impending nosebleed. He looks down at Midnight and groans again. 

“Can you answer me, you freeloaders?” He turns towards Eraser, Egg Roll, Grease and Red Bean.

“Any of you? I’d really appreciate it.” He’s been searching for clues as to how All Might had gotten such a bad injury, but he wasn’t finding anything, and he was strained any time he tried to go back into the timelines of other futures. The fact that those pasts were technically his presents was really messing with his Quirk. 

As expected, his cats do not respond, and Izuku lets his head slump back in frustration. “Fine guys, just let me bleed out.” Egg walks up to him and begins to meow, insistently, and only foresight has Izuku looking up at the clock and cursing colorfully. He’s pulled another all-nighter by accident, and if he wants to go on his morning run he’s going to have to get up and start baking soon. “Wow. You guys must be hungry, huh?” 

When he stands up and stretches, his elbows and his spine crack, and it’s with an audible pop that he moves his shoulders. 

“Man, that’s awesome on the joints,” He mutters, sarcastically. “Alright, come on then. We’ve got to feed all of you before you can beg for treats off of customers.” 

Once he’s downstairs, he can appreciate the sunrise as he brews the first cup of coffee of the day-- experimental, to see if everything’s set properly, as well as his dose of caffeine since he rarely sleeps properly. 

“Should I unlock the door, see if you get any stray cat friends?” 

He looks down at Grease, whose green eyes stare up at him unblinkingly before he is offered another slow, long meow. 

“Alright, alright,” He says, snickering. “I’ll unlock the door once the shop is open, and then all of your little friends can come in whenever they like!” 

He says, despite the fact that he’s talking about a cat flap that is secured with several bars that you’d find on a prison window, and all of his doors are deadbolted and locked several times over. He’ll just set out some food bowls for the strays in the front of his cafe. The weather is finally nice enough that he’s set up the two outdoor tables and the bench, and he should probably get another employee soon, huh?

Izuku pauses as he looks out at what’s become his home these past few years. The cafe has a nice open feeling to it, and the windows are big and thick and bulletproof and heatproof.

There are little lamps that hang up, and shutters that come down once the day is done, covering the windows and displaying a cute little starry theme for any late-night party goers looking inwards (little do they know that the second set of shutters is the thickest, most durable titanium he could find, the kind that uses magnetism to lock in and could only really be taken down by some kind of corrugation Quirk). 

The sitting areas feature little booths, standalone tables, large benches and counters to look out on the streets with. 

The counter he works behind is a pseudo display counter, shelf, and coffee-machine holder, and his register is bolted into the counter after Mom and him had had an unfortunate encounter with a desperate burglar. He lines the displays with desserts and breakfast foods every morning, either freshbaked or stored from the day before. 

The donuts, for example, he fries himself, in the morning despite the fact that they leave a sort of strange smell in his kitchen. There’s a drink display for those who just want a soda (why they walk into a coffee shop, Izuku doesn’t know, but he’s happy to oblige), and Izuku’s just gotten the hang of how to make bubble tea. 

Izuku’s kitchen is hidden behind a sturdy door-- that’s where he’d learnt everything, the cheesecakes, raindrop cakes, ohagi, dango, bread, pastries, chocolates-- anything and everything. It didn’t bother him that the kitchen was separated from the rest of where he lived, but he supposed that was strange now that he thought about it. 

There was a small glass spiral staircase in the corner of the cafe, leading up to a locked door. Behind there was where he lived-- where Mom and him had moved in all those years ago.

It had two bedrooms, two bathrooms, and in the middle was an open space he’d just covered in carpet, pillows, beanbags, a couch and some blankets that he nicknamed ‘the lounge’.

It was where the cats liked to be, and the sun there always made him warm and drowsy. He kept everything he needed for everyday living there, including a small stock of instant ramen and applesauce in case he forgot to buy normal food. 

There was a large TV mom had bought ages ago, and he always set up there when he was studying. His room was mainly for all of the… ah, observations he made, and the last bedroom was as his Mom had left it-- neatly put together, with a small shrine of his father in the back (and a small shrine of her now, too-- don’t think about it). 

“Mrrrroooow,” Eraser looks up, impatient enough that he apparently wants to be vocal, and it shakes Izuku out of his stupor. Right, cat food. And then people food, because while he did have leftover pastries from his baking spree yesterday, the breakfast food rotation for today meant he had to make cake pops and donuts at some point before he opened Viridian.

Once he’s fed the five kittens, he quickly kneads the dough he needs, opens a new box of almond croissants and sticks them in the display for good measure.

“I’m heading out!” He says, (mostly out of habit, because who is going to listen? The cats?) approximately seven minutes later, phone in his pocket and running shoes on. Jogging every morning as soon as the sun rises is something he’s done for a few weeks now, to (forget about what happened don’t think about it don’t THINK DON’T THINK)--to keep in shape, and he finds it’s somewhat therapeutic to pick a road and just run. 

He has a timer for 30 minutes, so that he can double back and sprint home (it’s not foolproof, but he hates planning out the routes in advance, so he just runs) and open up the cafe, but he always makes it back early anyway. 

Today he takes a road that brings him along an open cityscape, shops still dark and sky rises with only the occasional lit window, watching the sun rise pink and then amber. A few streets in, he turns down a road and sees someone else jogging at a steady pace. Moreover, they’re running fast and their legs are long enough that they can do so with ease. Izuku grins, because it’s the perfect challenge for him-- befriend someone and maintain an even speed. He hopes they aren’t a serial killer or something. 

The thumping of his shoes soon matches that of the mystery runner, and with a final burst of speed, he catches up, and runs side by side. Wow, they’re super tall, is all that Izuku thinks before he looks up and grins at the mildly bewildered expression his mystery runner is giving him. He’s got to be his age, but this guy is built , wideset and blue-haired. Oh, he has glasses. And engines… on his calves. Maybe that’s why he can run so fast…  

“Good morning!” Mystery Person says, smiling amiably down at him, no doubt noticing his running gear and deeming him just a normal jogger, not a threat, and-- wait, maybe he’s not such a mysterious person after all, that face looks familiar… 

“Are you related to Ingenium?” Izuku asks, in place of what he’s really itching to ask-- Are you Iida Tenya? Are you who I think you are? Because this boy’s Quirk is not to look through hundreds of thousands of futures and therefore he wouldn’t know why Izuku knows him, and that would just be plain creepy. 

Iida’s face brightens up, and he smiles, glasses glinting in the early light. 

“I am indeed! Are you a fan? I am his younger brother, Iida Tenya! It is good to meet you!” He says, and sticks his hand out, despite the fact that he’s still running with Izuku. 

(And it hurts, a bit, how readily he trusts Izuku.)

“Totally! What he’s done in Hosu has changed so many lives, and I’m really glad for him!” Izuku says, beaming up at the person who he’d befriended in so many other timelines.

Futures open up, creeping, and a few of them snap, sizzling threads attaching themselves between Izuku and Iida.

“I’m Midoriya Izuku, it’s good to meet you, Iida-kun!” He shakes his hand and giggles, because they’re still running, and the warm feeling in his chest is the closest he’s been to feeling content in a long few weeks. 

“Likewise! I did not know I would come upon another aspiring student jogging so early in the morning! Your tenacity is admirable, Midoriya-kun!” Iida speaks in all exclamations and robot hand movements, and despite the fact that Izuku has already seen this in memories that aren’t his millions of times over, it doesn’t fail to delight him this time around as well. 

“It’s just a good way to start you day, at least for me! What school are you going to? Isn’t school starting rather soon?” He looks up, and Iida’s brows crease a bit in confusion as he registers what Izuku has just said. 

“Are you not a student, then? A child your age should be in school!” 

“Iida, I’m 15.” 

“Ah! I am sorry for assuming you were younger! I am 15 as well.”

“Cool! I’m homeschooled, and I got a bit ahead of myself, so I’m taking the first half of my first-year high school courses and a few college one's right now. I’m kind of… out of touch with reality, cause I’ve been awake for about an entire night, so I’m sorry for the confusion!”

“Oh, I see! You must be very smart then, Midoriya-kun, but you must take the appropriate breaks and enough sleep! I am going to UA high school, and it starts next Monday!” Izuku gasps and looks up at Iida, awestruck. 

“You’re going to UA?! That's amazing! How was the exam?” Izuku can’t imagine going to UA, not when he’s watched the Sports Festivals every year since he can remember, jotting down as many Quirks as he possibly could. Last year, he’d watched the second years intently, because of the rumored Big 3. He hadn’t been let down-- their Quirks were amazing! 

“It was exemplary of such a prestigious facility! The written exam was definitely challenging, and the practical had us dealing with robots that you had to take down for points! It was a very good experience for me…” Iida trails off and then winces slightly. “...Besides the one point a very loud, foul-mouthed boy decided to yell at me.” 

“Oh?” Izuku stops. “That must’ve not been very fun-- was he cursing--!” He stops and considers. “Wait a minute. Was he blonde?” Iida stops too, and Izuku offers him a water bottle. 

“Ah, yes. Crimson eyes.” Izuku stops, as Iida takes the water bottle with the slightly constipated expression of someone who is reminiscing about something that had made them completely uncomfortable. 

“Explosion Quirk?”

“...Yeah.” He’s unable to hold back a snort, and Iida looks at him, in the midst of draining his spare bottle of water, and raises an eyebrow so un-Iida-like that the snort transforms into a choking cough. 

There have been few universes where Iida is more than a respectful hard-ass about the rules.

“You’ve had the pleasure of becoming acquainted with Kacchan, Iida. His Quirk is Explosion, and … well, his personality reflects that rather astutely,” Izuku gasps out once he can breathe again, as Iida nearly knocks him over with several well-meaning thumps to the back.

“I take it you know him?”

“Used to. We used to be pretty good friends, actually.” 

“Well that does come as a surprise, Midoriya-kun. You seem very well-mannered.”

“Yeah, Kacchan’s potty-mouth never rubbed off on me, thankfully,” Midoriya says, lying through his teeth. 

Of course it had, but Mom had taught him to curse only when you meant it, to make it all the sweeter to say, and it’d worked pretty well like that. He’d never forget the look on Kacchan’s face when Izuku, a young and bright-eyed three-year-old, stubbed his toe on the dresser and exclaimed a heartfelt ‘fuck!’ at the top of his lungs, though. 

Iida smiles at him, and they talk about random things-- hero statistics and the like. They’re not running anymore, and Izuku doesn’t actually have any idea where he’s going, but it’s alright. This is the most fun he’s had since-- (Don’t think about it don’t think about DON’T THINK ABOUT IT)

(You can’t think about it)

(It’s gone you can’t help her, she’s GONE)

“Are you alright, Midoriya-kun?” Iida asks, and Izuku looks back up at him, pale-faced and shaking. 

“Mm, yeah. I’m good.” At that moment, his alarm rings, and Izuku looks down, wondering how quickly 30 minutes had passed. “Ah, it looks like I’ve got to get going if I want to open the cafe on time!” He says, grateful for the distraction but a bit sad that he has to leave Iida so quickly. 

“A cafe? Which one, Midoriya-kun?” Iida asks, with an air of surprise. 

“Viridian! It’s called the Viridian cafe, because, you know.” He gestures at his hair and eyes, and Iida looks down at him before nodding, if not looking a bit confused. 

(Internally, Tenya was wondering why the cafe would be named after one of it’s employees’ hair color, but he didn’t judge.) 

“I see! I will have to visit!” 

“Sure, feel free to send people my way!” Izuku says. “You’re welcome to come whenever!” He says, handing over a business card he made exactly two weeks ago. 

Iida looks a mite bit bewildered to be offered one, but Izuku just shoots him a grin that he hopes conveys how happy he is, and opens up a map app to figure out where the hell he is.

“Oh… Sure, Midoriya-kun.” Izuku locates his street and starts to run off, muscles still warm despite the walking. He’s distracted, even when he calls out a goodbye. 

“Goodbye! Thank you for the run, Tenya!” He says, waving and sprinting down the street, not registering his error until he’s unlocking the doors to the cafe once more and Grease is by his feet again. “Ah, shoot. I guess I’d just accounted for social interaction through the threads, huh, Grease?” He says, looking down at his hapless cat, ears burning red. 

(Elsewhere, a young teenager stands stock-still for a minute before coming back to his senses, the back of his neck a bit red. He supposed Midoriya-kun didn’t like to use honorifics, but he was still a bit surprised to hear the usage of his first name so casually. He pockets the business card and shakes off the strange sense of nostalgia that had blanketed him as soon as he's seen Midoriya. He would definitely visit their cafe.)

~~~

“Alrighty! Are you ready to get this show on the road?” Izuku calls out, fully knowing that he is, in fact, talking to his cats and literally no one else, but it’s how he keeps the silence at bay, alright? Don’t judge him. 

“What’s on the menu today…” He leans back far enough to see what he’s written on the chalkboard. Right then! 

“Mix up crepe… well, mix the crepe mix, essentially, and then cakepop time, and… oh, goddamn it, the DONUTS!” Izuku grabs his signature uniform-- a black tee and jeans with a black apron and a single green leaf stitched in the side, and books it into the kitchen, grabbing the things he’d already made last night-- this morning? 

He hadn’t slept in a while, so reality got weirdly fluid like that. He looked at the clock and groaned-- it was almost time to open, and he was in the middle of frying the damn things! He hadn’t even iced them yet! 

“Eraser, do you think I should get another part-timer to do this stuff?” He yells through the doors which are safely and securely locked, because ain’t no cat fur getting into HIS food, no sir. As soon as he scoops out the donuts, grabbing the icing and frowning at the label (Sakura blossom? What kind of icing is that?) and runs haphazardly into the main part of the cafe, he sees the same face who shows up like clockwork every three days, stitched together and grinning, outside of the glass door. 

Right, the shutters were already pulled up, despite the fact that Izuku literally had no idea when he did that. At all. 

Whatever. 

Izuku holds up a finger, aware of how covered in... everything he is, and runs off to the sink, grabbing the donuts and shooing Red Bean out of the way as he slides it into the display. 

“Whew,” he says, sighing. Then he flips the sign around to open, flicks the fairy light one on too, for good measure, and pointedly pokes at the very clear timetable on the door, pouting at the strange maybe-villain standing outside his door. 

In response, Todoroki Touya-- Dabi, the name he'd given him-- taps his watch, and Izuku realizes that it is actually, in fact, three minutes after six and people are finally waking up and walking around. He unlocks the door and looks around before gesturing for Dabi to come inside. 

“What’s the deal, kid?” 

“I have to put out the cat food for the strays. Can you wait for maybe thirty seconds? Thanks!” Izuku doesn’t wait for a response, running back upstairs and grabbing the cat food and bowls, setting out the several he has and filling the water bowls up too. 

He flies past Dabi again as the door bangs shut and vaults over the counter, fixing his hair and looking up at Dabi with a whoosh of air. “Hi! What can I get you today?” 

Dabi looks at him for a minute, and dissolves into laughter. “Just a black coffee and a croissant for me, kid.” 

“Boo!” Izuku finds himself saying back, pouting. “Why don’t you ever try something new?” Dabi quirks an eyebrow at him, and Izuku just barely manages to hold back the remark that even the millions of future Dabis liked to try something new every so often. He watches as Dabi makes a show of looking down into the display and up at the menu. 

“I’ll have… an almond croissant.” Izuku blinks at the smug expression on his face and groans. 

“Well, better then the same old, I guess,” he grumbles, grabbing a cup at the same time as he switches the TV on and mutes it, on the hunt for the music playlist on his phone he wanted to play today. 

He makes the mistake of looking up at the television again, where they’re re-running the story on the remnants of the slime villain and the person who blew it up— who, conveniently, has the same dark hair and blue eyes as his customer. Sigh. They could have at least called him a vigilante. Being called a villain just hurts people’s pride. He turns back to grab a lid for the coffee and only notices that Dabi’s staring at him afterwards. 

“What?” Izuku asks, genuinely confused. “Do I have flour on my face?” He watches Dabi’s eyes flick from the TV back to Izuku's face, and then he huffs softly. 

“You’re something else, kid.” 

“...Thanks?” Izuku says, bagging the croissant and making the split second decision to grab a reusable tumbler rather then the plain old cup he’s using, and he offers it to Dabi. “5.82,” He says, gleefully watching the confusion splice across Dabi’s face as he takes the tumbler. 

“Are you going to charge me for this, kid?” Dabi asks, and Izuku rolls his eyes.

“I said no the first, second and third times. Why would I charge you now? Since you always get the same thing, and it’s black coffee, this is easier. Just get me to fill it up, ya know?” Izuku says easily, and then curses when his phone alarm buzzes. 

The cake pops are done, and he has to ice them immediately if he wants to get them out. 

“Shit, can you stay here for a hot second? There’s no one else out there, right?” He says, hurriedly shoving a spare apron into Dabi’s hands. 

“Kid?” 

“Just change into that for a hot second, I can pay you, I just need you there for a second!” Izuku says, running back into the kitchen. 

Aha! They were fine! He smiles, relieved, and then grabs the icing from the fridge, looking at the two kinds he has. “Yo! Dude! Which kind?” Izuku asks Dabi, who actually put on the apron, kicking the metal doors open. He turns and looks, just as two more people enter, and Izuku tries to hold back a grimace. 

He’d underestimated how hard it would be to keep the cafe going without Mom. 

“Birthday cake,” Dabi answers easily, and Izuku grins. 

“Great! Go dunk these in that, okay? The sticks are on the counter!” He says, hip checking Dabi into stumbling through the doors, praying that he won’t get mad and, oh, burn the ducking cafe to the ground.  

“Hello!” He says, congratulating himself on the quick save as two police officers amble up, smiling at him. “What can I get for you two today?” 

“A latte for me, black coffee for him, little cinnamon, and two of your specialty donuts, if you will.”

“Coming right up!” Izuku says brightly enough to disguise his shaking hands. Right, lattes were easy. “Here or to go?” 

“To go,” The cat-headed man purrs, and Izuku thanks the gods that they’ll be leaving soon, whilst also massively curious about the man’s Quirk. As he grabs the cinnamon, he looks up at the man, and then tries his best not to burst into laughter as Egg Roll tries to jump onto the counter to investigate further. 

“Eggroll, no!” He says, laughing as he sprinkles maybe too much cinnamon into the black coffee. 

(The police officers, Officer Sansa and Detective Tsukauchi, look on, and feel a bit blinded by his shining smile.) 

As soon as the coffees are done, he has the price on his lips, grabbing two donuts and waving goodbye to them. I wonder how much of a cat that makes Sansa… could I give him cat treats? He turns around and flies through the double doors and heaves a huge sigh of relief as Dabi gives him a confounded look, cake pops iced and ready. 

“Sorry about that… there were two police officers out there and I didn’t want them to see you…” Izuku rubs the back of his neck, sheepish. “You did a great job!” He says, looking at the cakepops. 

“Wait, that’s why you—“

“I’m so sorry about it! I didn’t know what else to do, and I did kind of need you to deal with the cakepops… you should probably pull up your hood when you leave, and here’s your order… the coffee should still be hot, I’m sorry,” he blurts, and then blushes, because that was way too near his muttering from years past. 

Dabi stares at him, eyelid twitching, and then bursts into snickers.

“You don’t care that I’m a villain?” He finally asks, and Izuku sombers up immediately.

“I don’t care that you stole food from the convenience store, or exploded a slime villain made of amorphous liquid who would be fine either way. I will care if you kill other people,” Izuku says, with an undercurrent of tension he’d forgotten existed. “If you kill others, I won’t serve you anymore, I’m afraid,” he says, and Dabi scoffs, maybe, but--

(Dabi shivers a bit, because the kid has this glint in his eyes, something that makes them glitter with knowledge, and it’s deep and he isn’t just talking about the cafe, is he? There’s a dangerous look in his eyes, like he knows what strings he needs to pull to get Dabi blinked out of existence.)

--he means every word. “Besides, you should really be labeled a vigilante, and there are some vigilantes I’m a big fan of!” Izuku pushes a few thousand yen and Dabi’s order into his hands, and wills himself to smile as brightly as he can. “As long as you don’t kill or maim anyone beyond recovery, we’re golden!” They walk out of the kitchen, and Dabi hops over the counter, awkwardly. 

“Well kid, that… was weird.”

“I’m sorry again!” Izuku says, feeling genuinely bad about it. “I’ve been a bit overworked lately! Actually, since you kind of did a good job with the cake pops, would you want to take shifts here, occasionally?” Izuku asks, having an epiphany. “I can just pay you and you can pop by whenever! And you’re not allergic to cats, which is a plus.” He grabs a business card from his apron pocket, and watches Dabi’s eyes carefully, noting the genuine interest there. 

He takes the card and it’s all that Izuku can do to hope that he doesn’t just incinerate it as soon as he leaves the place— 

A flashing image in the news takes his attention off Dabi, and he looks up and tries not to scream in anger as he unmutes TV. 

Dabi also turns at the explosion of sound, and they silently watch as Endeavor burns away an entire park because of a dumbass water-control villain. Izuku doesn’t miss the tightening of Dabi’s eyebrows and the slight clench of his jaw, but he doesn’t blame him either. 

“Fucking idiot,” Izuku groans as he mutes the TV. “Fucking. Idiot!” He’s so glad there are no other people out there yet. The news anchor is praising Endeavor with a bead of sweat rolling down her forehead, and Izuku doesn’t blame her. Endeavor killed eight people on his own, again. “How exactly isn’t he in jail yet?!” He grinds out, forcing himself to watch the scene, to not think about her he could have saved her if he had just fucking LISTENED — 

“Wait, what?” Dabi asks, and Izuku looks up at him, mortified. “I thought you were a hero fan?” Izuku scoffs, a harsh bark of laughter that scrapes at his throat. 

“That,” he says, moving his hand towards the carnage in the television, “is not what a hero does.” He waits for the inevitable backlash, because everyone respects Endeavor in some form, but the Dabi’s face screws up and Izuku realizes he’s smiling.  

“You know what, kid? I think I’m going to take you up on this offer every once in a while. That alright with you?” He asks, waving the business card back and forth. 

“Yeah!” Izuku says, previous aggression forgotten. Dabi turns to leave, nodding once as Izuku smiles after him. Right before he opens the door, though, he turns back to Izuku, who pauses in the middle of putting the cake pops into the display. 

“Actually, (no) kid, why are you so (don’t) understaffed? You get a (don’t ask) decent number of people… (don’t ask don’t ask DONT ASK) where’s your mom?” Izuku feels his face freeze, the smile slides right off. 

There must be a change in his expression, because Dabi’s eyes widen marginally, and he becomes stiller. Izuku feels another sharp stab of remorse, guilt, pain…

“She’s… not here.” He says, and turns away to keep the grief from showing on his face. “Come again.” 

~~~

“Hello!”

“I’ll have bubble tea.”

“Please come again!”

“Hi! What can I do for you today?”

“A black coffee.”

“Hi, what would you like?”

“Can I have a honeycake, please?”

“Hi, how many I help you?”

“Hello, I’d like--”

“May I--”

“The crepes are--”

“The coffee--“

“The green tea and the ohagi together, and--”

“--really good!”

“Have a good day!” Izuku calls out, time and time and time again, hands full and supplies dwindling. He smiles until his face hurts, but he’s so happy, because it’s been so long since he’s been as busy as this. And then right as it hits noon and his stomach begins to growl, things begin to quiet down. 

Lunchtime is hectic for all the other shops around town, but usually Izuku has some time to himself on weekends because no one really… er… wants to have a coffee for lunch, not on weekends. 

As soon as it finishes, though, he’ll be bombasted, and the schedule will flip on weekdays. Izuku whistles a tune he doesn’t remember as he sticks a decal on the glass door, several ‘cat-friendly’ stickers already on the side. The radio is tuned into something soft and mellifluous, piano-like. 

Hm. Maybe he should get a piano. Absentmindedly, he grabs a leftover croissants and blinks blearily, trying his best to stay awake as the crash from not sleeping hits him full force. 

He sits down at a table in the cafe, sighing when he bites into the croissant, because no matter where he goes in Japan in never quite compares to the feelings he remembers from his other futures, the ones where he’d ended up France or Belgium and actually tried one. 

He’d ended up conspiring with Mom to figure out how to make it taste like the thing of his memories, and even then he only had every so often to actually make them. The almond croissants were just sent here from one of the international suppliers he bought from, and they were practically indestructible with how much sugar was loaded into them. 

Good on him, since he ran a cafe, and had a big sweet tooth. The door swings open and the ringing of the bells makes his head snap up, croissant half-way stuffed down his throat. 

“Get coffee for me, he says,” A voice mutters as Izuku springs up, hurriedly clearing away the plate he’d grabbed and trying valiantly not to choke on croissant. “I’m sure somewhere will be open, he says. Yeah, sure, Shouta, somewhere where people aren’t on lunch break?!”

The muttering reaches a crescendo and the offender finally looks up, and Izuku does a double take in the middle of his frantic dash, nearly stumbling. 

The man has long blonde hair pulled into a high ponytail, and his eyes are an unusual shade of light green, framed by glasses. They stare at each other for a beat, and then the man finger guns at him. “HEY HEY HEy, little listener--” He freezes, eyes widening as he evidently realizes he’s in civilian wear and probably shouldn’t reveal himself because holy shit that’s Present Mic.  

Izuku raises his hand in a tentative wave, and the man seems to recover himself, rubbing the back of his head apologetically. “Is anyone… uh, you know, in?” He asks, and Izuku chokes on his croissant because right, he has a job. 

“Ahem. Sorry about that, what can I get you?” Izuku asks, smiling sheepishly and snapping on a new pair of gloves. 

Present Mic looks up at the choices, and Izuku grins, because holy heck this is so cool!!! Could he get an autograph?!  

“Well, Shou… my friend wanted a black coffee, no sugar, no nothing… guh. Can you imagine?” Izuku winces, because he hates drinking coffee black almost more then he hates changing the cats’ litter boxes. 

“Ew,” He says before he can stop himself, his body doing a little shudder, and Present Mic looks at him for a moment before grinning, no doubt thinking his hero identity is safe and it’s not that he looks exactly the same minus the banana hair. 

“That’s what I said!” 

“Hmmm… do they like spicy things?” Izuku asks, absentmindedly pulling the tab for coffee open and filling up a cup. 

“A bit, actually…” Present Mic says, trailing off. 

“Would they mind if I added cinnamon?” Izuku asks, leaning over for the aforementioned things. Present Mic’s easy grin grows wider. 

“You know, I might be able to get a reaction out of him with that! Do it!” He says, and Izuku silently adds them plus a pump of milk chocolate creamer because he’s scared of how bitter it may be.

“Anything else?” Izuku asks, trying his best not to vibrate with excitement. 

“My other friend also told me to get… hm, what was it?” Only now does Izuku see the deep, dark circles under his eyes as his face blurs between a mix of exhaustion and confusion. “I don’t remember… Do you have any recommendations for a young female Pro who is running on no beauty sleep?” He asks with a yawn, and Izuku tries to keep himself from squealing, because another Pro?!?!?!?!  

“Mmm, chai tea latte maybe?” Izuku says appraisingly, tipping his head to the side. 

“Hmm, yeah, that sounds good…” 

“And for you?” Izuku asks as Present Mic looks at him blearily. 

“Oh, I’m not sure, I’ve got a pretty picky tas--” Izuku cuts him off, but he can’t help it. 

“That’s alright! I know you don’t like coffee, you’ve only said so like a million times on your radio show, but I have a chilled green tea that I like to make with honey and it tastes pretty good, if you don’t like it you can even just ask for a refund, I don’t mind-- oh, and I can make you a crepe with a lot of bananas and strawberries and chocolate, that should help you get your spirits up, maybe you can eat it with your lunch? Have you eaten lunch yet? Do you need something more filling? You look pretty exhausted--” Izuku cuts himself off by biting down on his tongue, choking on the words that still want to bubble out of his throat. “Sorry!” He gasps out, blushing vermilion. 

Present Mic stares at him, mouth agape as he processes. Sheesh, the guy is dead on his feet, what is Izuku doing muttering at him like this? He’s going to blue-screen from all the weirdly stalker-like information Izuku is throwing at him. 

Slowly, he watches as Present Mic’s eyes glint, and his smile returns. 

“You knew I was Present Mic all along?” Izuku blinks in confusion. 

“Of course I did! I’ve been listening to your radio show since I was four, apparently! And the hair is a dead giveaway! Er-- not to be rude…” He didn’t think it would be possible to get more embarrassed, but Izuku is apparently always breaking his past records.

Present Mic's hair is in fact not a dead giveaway at all, not when it's up like that, but the man had literally walked into his cafe fingergunning and yelling his trademark phrase from his radio show. 

“Alright, little listener! I’ll take whatever you recommend!” He says, and Izuku sighs, relieved. 

“Here or to go?” 

“Hmph. I’m going to make them wait for all that they’ve put me through. It’s so crowded everywhere else-- hey, why isn’t anyone here, actually?” He asks, and Izuku is surprised at how different his persona is, but somewhat relieved by it. Maybe he’s just tired, though. 

“I dunno! It could be because my cafe is pretty new, or because people are getting actual food. I just serve pastries and the like! That’s why I was surprised you were here, sir!” Izuku says, beaming up at Present Mic.

He turns around and grabs the crepe batter, heating up the machine he makes them in, while at the same time setting the kettle onto the stove to make the green tea. Everything’s almost done, and he’s trying his best not to mess anything up because a Pro Hero ordered this when he turns back around, crepe wrapped and ready in his hand, and sees disaster about to strike. 

“Hm?” Mic looks up, and sees--

“Midnight NO!” Izuku vaults over the counter, thanking his lucky stars that parkour has been paying off lately, catching the cat in one arm, which had just launched itself from one of the high tables, aiming for Present Mic’s face.

“Midnight, that is not how we greet guests! Christ, you’re supposed to be the well-mannered one! We picked up your boyfriend over there from the street! How come he’s got manners, huh?” Izuku scolds his cat thoroughly as she hangs limp from his arm with a plaintive meow. Then he freezes and looks up at Present Mic, whose face is screwed up in such a particular way that Izuku just knows he’s trying his hardest not to laugh.

“S-Sorry! I’m so sorry!” Izuku says, setting Midnight down gently and bowing several times. 

And he thought he couldn’t get redder. Ha. Foolish. 

“Did I hear that right? Is your cat’s name Midnight? ” Present Mic asks as Izuku brings over his crepe and the rest of his orders, still bumbling and red-faced, and now Izuku wants to die because he must have made the connection to the Pro, what with her blue eyes and the white patch, and he probably knows her personally ohgod -- 

“I… I have nothing to dispute you with. Yep, the cat’s name is Midnight. Yes, she looks like Midnight…” Izuku looks up. “She’s one of five-- would you like to see the other ones?” 

(And how does Present Mic resist the megawatt smile he’s being given?)

“Sure, kiddo,” He says—

(trying his damnedest not to laugh, and thinking about what a great story it’ll make for the UA staff when he gets back.)  

—and Izuku smiles, albeit a bit shyly. 

“Cattos!” Izuku calls, and there are all of them, in their feline glory. “I know this is kind of weird to ask while you’re eating, but do you want to feed them? I have treats?” Izuku says, and everything comes out like a question, because this is probably single handedly the most embarrassing experience he’s ever had. 

“Sure,” Present Mic says, and he tries his best not to let out a relieved sigh. 

“Okay! They all know their names-- the one with the purple eyes is Red Bean, the grey one is Grease, the turtle-shell is Eggroll, and the tabby cat is Eraserhead-- which makes no sense, I know, but my mom thought Midnight would feel left out if she was the only one with a hero name, so… uh… I named him after one of my favorite Pros…” 

By the end of this speech, Izuku is stuttering and spluttering and Present Mic’s grin has gotten exorbitantly wide. He thinks he might even hear a huffed “adorable!” from him, but Izuku isn’t about to assume things. 

Present Mic stays for a while longer then he has to, but it's worth it when Izuku watches him take a sip of his chilled green tea, his eyes lighting up and his exclamation of “It tastes like spring!” making Izuku’s day. 

And when he gives him an autograph with the money, it’s all Izuku can do to keep from exploding, even as he waves goodbye and welcome in new customers. 

(Present Mic later watches with glee as Midnight and Eraserhead try their drinks respectively-- Nemuri cupping her face with her hand and humming in delight, and Shouta seemingly having no reaction until Hizashi notices he’s actually savoring the coffee instead of chugging it. They all practically devour the pastries Hizashi brings out, and even some of the other staff try some, brightening up and managing to feel better in the midst of the hellish judging they have to do in the face of the many hundreds of applicants to UA every year-- and when Hizashi recounts the incident with the cats, even All Might listens in, to his delight.

And if All Might’s eyes widen marginally when he hears the name Izuku, and if he ducks away with a smile at the thought of the gardenia sitting in his apartment, no one has to know.)

~~~

“EHHH! Nejire Hado?!” 

“Oh? Who are you? Hey, how come you know who I am?”

“I saw you in the Sports Festival-- you were amazing!” 

“Oh-- well thank you! I’m really hungry, but… is this melonpan different from the ones you can get at the konbini?”

“Eh?! So blunt! I made that myself! It should taste better!”

“Oh! Okay, I’ll get one of these, then!” 

~~~

“Grease, can you convince me to not do this?” Izuku asks, a nervous smile on his face. He finally has a lead.

It’s long since past closing-- he’s gone out on a grocery run, grabbed some ice cream for the next thing he wants to attempt tomorrow, made ohagi and cookie dough that needs to chill.

He’s gotten a fresh box of American products, and he should be ready to rumble and go right back into analyzing the futures around him, to see what he can and can’t prevent.

Instead, he’s standing in front of his mirror, ready to activate the suit his Mom had preserved for him and go out and about to see if the League of Villains really exists. They’re in nearly any of the futures, preventable or not, and he doesn’t know how he can possibly stop them. 

Grease, like the furry little traitor he is, stays silent after casting him a baleful look and wandering off.

“Gee, thanks,” Izuku mutters, and sighs. “Well, I guess I’m doing this then.” With a hop, skip and a jump, Izuku tumbles off of the garden roof and tries his hardest not to break anything. Miraculously, he lands without hurting himself, a perfect roll bringing him back up to his feet. 

“Hoo! Thanks, Tanaka-sensei!” Izuku exclaims as he activates the voice changer on his helmet, staring down as the energy from his fall lights up a soft green before fading into his suit. “Neat!” Taking a deep breath, he runs across a few low-rise rooftops before glancing at the business card and typing in the number on his burner phone.

He’d had to cash in a few precious favors to a.) develop an app that could trace phone signals and b.) learn how to track said phone signals, as well as c.) get a professional mimicry device built into his voice-changer, but it was definitely worth it. Izuku was about to attempt to track down the League of Villains. 

Or whatever the hell they called themselves in this timeline. Izuku had seen 'LoV' in other adjacent timelines.  

“Kuro… chan?” Izuku mutters as he squints down at the card in a flickering streetlight’s shine.

Activating the app, as well as an audio recorder, Izuku closes his eyes and stifles another freaked out squeak that threatens to surface. “I’m about to hate myself for this, but here goes…” He clicks call, and waits on bated breath, wondering if his mother really did have the personal number of someone who would, if the futures around him were correct, be villainous enough to want to kill All Might and in some futures succeed. 

“Who is this and what are your intentions?” A low, deep voice that rumbled through something that didn’t seem entirely human answered, and Izuku shoves the desire to break the phone over his knee and flee all the way down into the pit of his stomach. Yeah, he was going to eat his anxiety. Fight him. After double checking and making sure the voice changer was set to the proper person, Izuku spoke up. 

“Hi, Kuro-chan! How are you?” Izuku’s throat goes dry as soon as his own voice registers in his ears, because it’s not his anymore, it’s Mom’s and when was the last time he’d heard her voice? There’s an intake of breath on the other side, but when this strange Kurogiri speaks again, it’s completely even. 

“Hello, Polaris. Are you going to be active again?” Izuku freezes, because holy shit it had worked, and why had Mom been in contact with this man?!

“What’s it to you?” He asks sweetly, trying his best to imitate his Mom’s ‘not-having-your-bullshit’ tone of voice when she knew he’d done something illegal. 

“Well, Polaris, I was only your partner for-- what was it, four years? This comes as a surprise, but it isn’t unpleasant.” There’s a strange rumble on the other side of the phone that Izuku only dimly registers as laughter because holy hell, his Mom had worked as a vigilante for more then three months and this guy was her partner, this guy who might kill ALL MIGHT, MOM WHAT DID YOU DO WHEN YOU WERE YOUNG?!

“Now now, Kuro-chan, I’m sorry for not telling you earlier, but can you blame me? A little bird told me you’re with… ah, ill-meaning parties ?” Izuku says, startled by how chilling Mom’s voice sounds. Wait, no, that’s his voice. 

God this is weird. 

“They… gave me a good opportunity, Akatini-chan.”

Ah, he knew Mom’s name. He… knew mom’s maiden name?! “I decided to take it.”

“Darling, since when has your job been to babysit a bipolar pissbaby to help kill the one person we both deemed suitable for the job of number one?” 

Silence. Shit, did he say too much?  

“...Who is your source, Akatini-chan? These are very, ah, incriminating accusations.”

“I’m not about to give away the edge I’ve gotten in returning, dear. I just wanted to say that if you know what’s best for you, you will stay away from… the group you’ve become affiliated with. I care for you, you know, and this isn’t your proper place. If you require my services, I will help you, but if you violate what you and I fought for in all those years, I cannot ensure you will remain unharmed.”

There’s a hush as Izuku continues spilling bullshit, pausing for theatrical effect. “There is… something, or perhaps someone, rising up in the heroes. It will change our world, Kuro-chan. Don’t get caught up on the losing side.”

He's going to puke. 

“Are you saying you are siding with the heroes?” Kurogiri says, and oops, he didn’t want to reveal it like that. But Izuku forces a light giggle out of his mouth instead of vomiting like he wants to, because he is a man on a mission.  

“Who said I was siding with anyone, Kuro-chan?” He asks. “I may as well be the only neutral party here.” More silence. “Well, you know where to find me, dear. I must be going now.” 

“Akatini-chan.” Izuku waits on bated breath. “Please don’t get involved. All For One is the most vicious enemy you could make.” 

“All For One…?” Izuku murmurs, and the silence on the other end tells him he’s pushed too far. “Alright. Take care of yourself, Shirakumo. ” Izuku says, and waits until he’s hung up before modulating his voice again until it’s that of a wizened old man’s, because he has to continue the audio-recording so he can send this to the police, or a hero, or someone who can actually help. “They’re planning an attack soon. I’m not sure where yet, but their leader is volatile and has enough resources to genetically modify humans to hold more then one Quirk. Please be on your guard.” 

With that, he clicks the audio off and takes out the SIM card of the burner phone, snapping the phone in half and carelessly tossing it into the nearest dumpster. On his other burner, the one Mom had given him, he plugs in the SIM just long enough to pinpoint the location of Kurogiri when he’d taken the call. Izuku doesn’t know if it’ll pay off, if the League will move, or if Kurogiri was even in their hideout when he took the call, but it’s worth the risk and worth the gamble. 

The location blips onto the tracking-app, and Izuku almost cries in relief. He did something. 

“Is there someone I can hand this off to?” He murmurs. “Maybe All Might… but he doesn’t know I know he’s All Might… Present Mic then? But that makes my civilian form look suspicious… oh, who am I kidding, my civilian form is already suspicious, I have a wanted vigilante taking part-time shifts… wait, aren’t I technically being illegal right now?” Izuku looks up and around and sighs, relaxing just enough that he nearly has the daylight scared out of him when a dry voice interrupts his mutter-fest. 

“Yes, you are being illegal.” Izuku turns and looks around, wildly-- 

“Eraserhead?!” He whisper-yells into the near-still night, staring at the man with his yellow goggles over his face, the man he'd seen, obsessed over, idolized, strategized with--

“In the flesh. I didn’t think anyone knew me.” 

“I’m like your biggest fan!” Izuku stops, chokes on the words bubbling out of his mouth, and tries to compose himself as Eraserhead raises a single eyebrow. “I… um. Am not doing anything illegal. Technically. Because I haven’t used my Quirk yet, and this is just for a costume party, and I’m doing a project. Yeah.” 

“What kind of information did you want to hand over to the Heroes?” Eraserhead asks, and Izuku tries not to fanboy, because oh jesus his vigilante career might be over before it even started, but Eraserhead is so cool!  

“Eraserhead, are you familiar with the League of Villains?” Eraserhead tenses very minutely, but he’s not as good as hiding his body language as Izuku thought, because he can read it fairly easily.

(This is an incorrect observation. It is merely that Midoriyas are particularly perceptive.)

“Ah, of course not. I suppose them mounting an attack would be their way of introducing themselves…” Eraserhead tenses further, and Izuku winces.

That was probably not the best way to word things. “Um. One of my… affiliates… was affiliated with someone who may be planning on launching an attack that will shake heroics to it’s core, and I may have a lead on them and how to stop it. I called my… partner, if you will, and they may have given away more then the bare minimum. Can I trust you with this information?” 

Eraserhead isn’t answering, so Izuku makes two mistakes. 

The first is reaching for his phone, in a pocket that isn’t visible to Eraserhead. The second is making to jump down to where he is, onto the street. Izuku notices when Eraserheads capture weapon floats up, sees his red eyes, and has approximately two seconds, which he uses very wisely to just… 

Oh. Shit.

And then his world explodes out into agony as one by one the strings are cut, and his Quirk fades away from him, leaving him so very, very blind. 

~~~

(Shouta wasn’t expecting the… person, whomever they were, to notice him so quickly. 

He wasn’t expecting them to be his fan, or talk like they knew him. 

He wasn’t expecting them to reach for something that wasn’t there, and he felt the burning his Quirk induced before he registered he was activating it. 

He definitely wasn’t expecting the person to make a noise like they were choking and slam into the pavement four feet away from him feet first, as if they’d tried their best to stick the landing. 

He didn’t think he would deactivate his Quirk, but then he saw the blood dribbling from under the visor and something inside him had reared in panic, screaming I know them despite the fact that he was ninety percent sure he’d never met this person. 

He wasn’t expecting them to look up again, clear their throat, panting. 

“You like coffee, right?”

“What is your aim?” He demands, perhaps a slight bit impressed at the drive of this strange vigilante. 

“My aim doesn’t matter to you, if you can just stop my heart with your Quirk,” The shadow spits again, and it’s a wet and horrible sound. What kind of Quirk could he possibly have, that it would steal the very breath away from him? “I’ll have a friend of mine deliver you the data. Find the Viridian Cafe, and a word of advice.” The man’s voice [an extrapolation, but Eraserhead has a sixth sense about these things] turns chilling, the modulation changing until it’s unrecognizable. “Don’t turn on your Quirk in his cafe if you know what’s good for you.” 

“Is that a threat?” 

“No. It's a fact,” And then the suit vanishes, and Eraserhead activates him Quirk again, but he can’t deactivate what he can’t see.

“Goddamnit,” He growls when he hears nothing more, and he sighed as his phone rings. “Hizashi.” 

“Shou… where are you? Aren’t you supposed to get home from patrol soon?”

“Do you know where the Viridian Cafe is?”)

~~~

Excerpt from Midoriya Izuku’s Quirk Profile, Quirk Analysis Notebook #29, Ver. 4.0 :

Name: ???

Class: Emitter

• Side Note: Physical manifestations in eyes, which glow, and appearance, which can flicker through and imitate others (?).

Strengths:

I will master this!

• Can travel through futures that could happen through my eyes; Under hysterical strength, can switch through multiple futures, enough that my physical appearance flickers as well.

○ Practical Application: Intimidation factor? As well as observation and data-collection, but if it isn’t really my future how reliable is it?

• Can travel into a realm of half-awakeness - Present is the tangible world, while In-Between is the realm between awake and not awake-- this is where the threads are, and where the Quirk shows me the futures

○ Practical Application: Can I reach in there? Store things? Is it a real place? Can I reach out and touch the strings? Why have I never tried this before?

• Can see the possibilities of futures that are not mine; Under hysterical strength, can see small possibilities of what my future can be.

○ Practical Application: Process of Elimination (if ___ isn’t here, then ___ will___.)

○ Practical Application: By examining all of the futures that were nearest to occurring at any given moment, I can put together who will appear in my future and what their abilities are

■ Side note: While the Quirks and abilities of those around me don’t change, mine as my own vary crazily, depending on which future I’m viewing.

○ Practical Application: Those who have appeared in other timelines as something concrete like Villain or Vigilante will not be the same in my future, and I can use this for deduction

■ Side note: This was wrong. Utterly, totally wrong. See ‘Todoroki Touya’ to confirm.

• Can see the possibilities of futures that ARE mine; Under medium stress, unrealistic paths will begin to move further away, and only the most likely will stay, and these futures are the ones which I believe are most likely to occur; Under hysterical strength, can see what WILL happen in my future with absolute certainty.

○ Practical Application: Figure out what is going on

○ Practical Application: Battle Application

■ Side Note: Huge physical drawback. Use with caution.

• Can travel back down my past and essentially re-live memories. Only tried twice-- the first trial, I only stayed long enough to confuse my mother and catch sight of my father. I do not know if it affected my past, because I travelled back to age 3 and do not recall those memories outside of my Quirk. Inconclusive Data. The second trial, I told Katsuki Bakugou (see page XXX of Quirk Analysis Notebook XX) something I’d never told him before, at seven years of age. Granted, this is a risky experiment since he hates my guts and has probably forgotten what I said if it registered at all. Nonetheless, I will probably need to get in contact with him to figure out if I can actually manipulate the past.

○ Theoretical Practical Application: Save everyone that I’ve seen be left behind in previous futures! List is in the making (See Chapter XXX of [Redacted] for XXX).

■ Side Note: Could I travel back in time and warn others of impending events? All Might hurt himself in many of the timelines I’ve watched. Could I travel through them and save the people there as well? How far back can I travel? Can I travel back to before I existed in this body? If a time traveller sent me back to before I existed, how would my Quirk react? Could I, in theory, also travel forward on paths of the future? Could I force myself into someone else’s head by finding their futures?

■ I’ve been lying here for a while, and I was just wondering... what if all of the insane paths I’ve been seeing aren’t futures, but alternate realities?

■ ...I think I’m a bit too tired.

Drawbacks:

• Mild Quirk Overuse: Headache, not too severe
• General Quirk Overuse: Nose begins to bleed, threads leave last impressions on vision, some dissociation
• High Quirk Overuse: Nose, eyes and mouth bleeding, headache blooms to migraine, Present becomes flat and monochrome, general lack of apathy/numbness
• Extreme Quirk Overuse: Everything is pain. I bleed everywhere. Do not try again. Takes a cooldown period of 2-5 days, depending.
• I also, for whatever reason, seem to need less sleep and less to eat. Is it because I spend so much time gaining energy looking In-Between?

• When my Quirk is nullified, I get High Quirk Overuse symptoms, and my heart stops. 

TO BE CONTINUED...

Chapter Text

~Except maybe the cats~

As soon as Izuku wakes up, he groans and regrets existing. His arms don’t feel attached to his body, his clothing is rumpled and bloodstained, and today is Sunday, which means he still has six hellish days after today at the cafe before the weekend happens. 

On the flip side, he has nothing to do today, being the only day where the shop is closed, and he usually spends today trying out new recipes, but he has things to do, and he feels so… he feels so… then a wave of nausea hits him, and Izuku sighs. 

Today is going to be a Bad Day™, because Izuku’s feeling numb, and that’s never a good thing. Maybe it’s because he ran around so much yesterday, or because Eraserhead stopped his goddamn heart with his Quirk.  

Of course, he doesn’t blame Eraserhead!! He was just doing his job, but Izuku should have realized the repercussions of suddenly not being able to see or hear or taste or smell any of the futures, fizzing like soda-candy against his fingertips.

The moment the world had permanently turned flat-color, he’d panicked, and he’d messed up his jump. 

“Hm. That’s nice,” Izuku says when he shuffles into the bathroom to reveal the dried gush of blood down his front. 

He’d practically crashed into the cafe, stumbling into an alley to deactivate his costume. He hadn’t bothered using the door-- the security shutters were down, so he had to climb up to the balcony and find the window he’d left unlocked for the cats, which was eight new brands of difficulty when you were queasy from blood loss and almost dying. 

Then he’d hurled himself onto the floor and passed out, or maybe he just fell asleep. He didn’t think either qualified for the other, but what could he do? It’s not like he could ask his cats if he’d casually knocked himself unconscious or not. 

A shower would probably do him good right about now. He'd have to make sure no one saw him like this.

(They couldn't know.)

“What does it matter?” Izuku says, mainly just to test his voice and see if it’s still there. The water is too cold, but he supposes that was to be expected. It doesn’t affect him any more than usual. 

He nearly forgets to feed the cats, but even in his detached state he remembers them, and it’s not just because Midnight won’t stop meowing at him, it’s not.  

Dimly, he realizes he’s going to be late for his run, but does it really matter? 

He lays out the puff pastry from America for the weird little pastries he’s making today-- sticks the sugar cookie dough on top, prays it won’t burn while he’s out, because he’s definitely going to need them tomorrow when he has something to do. 

He’s halfway down the street before he realizes he’s not in his running shoes and he forgot a water bottle. 

“Maybe I shouldn’t do this today,” Izuku reasons with himself, aloud because he can’t afford to get lost in his thoughts. “Did I lock the door?” His keys jingle in his pocket, and Izuku hopes he has, but he doesn’t know how long he’s been standing out here because all of a sudden the sun is fully up in the sky, and wow, it’s kind of warm for a sweater now, isn’t it? He looks up, blinks a few times. When did that happen? 

“Hello, young man!” A rasping voice from behind him, and Izuku jumps, turning around with a hand by his pepper spray, because you never know who is around, even in broad daylight, until he looks up and up and sees blond hair framing a wiry face. 

“Ah, Toshi-san,” He says, shoulder slumping in relief. All Might looks at him, and his smile fades. 

“Are you alright, young Midoriya?” Izuku doesn’t know, why are you asking him? 

“Hmm. Maybe. What have you been doing, A--Toshi-san?” Izuku snaps his jaw shut the instant All Might’s name tries to make it’s way off his tongue, and it very nearly succeeds in escaping anyway. Damn Quirk Exhaustion-- it’s only ever this bleary when he doesn’t sleep for three days. 

“Ah! I was on a run. It was very refreshing!” All Might says, throwing a peace sign, and Izuku blinks up at him. How come people don't realize he’s All Might? This is bordering on ridiculous. 

“Oh. I was also running. I think.” 

“That is good! I seem to have left my water at home, however, so I must cut my run short, unfortunately.” Izuku blinks. 

“Would you like something to drink?” He asks, and whoa, what is his mouth doing? 

“Ah, do you have extra water? That would be very kind of you to offer, young man.”

“Um… no.” Izuku looks down at his hands and sighs. “I didn’t even bring water for myself.” 

“Ah.” They stare at each other for a beat, and Izuku feels himself, even in his addled state, flare a bright red. 

“I, um. We can go to the cafe. Here, follow me?” Izuku phrases it like a question, but All Might follows him anyway. 

“There is a cafe open at 5:30 in the morning?” All Might asks from behind him, and Izuku winces. 

“Well, one is. Kind of,” he mutters, and it’s only three minutes until they’re back at the cafe. The shutters are up now, and golden light shines through the glass. 

“My boy, I believe it is locked--” 

“Yeah, I hope so,” Izuku says, grabbing his keys and dimly realizing how strange he must seem to All Might right now. It takes him a minute to open the doors, but it’s just a drop in the ‘total humiliation’ bucket he feels, and he’s not feeling much right now anyway, so it’s alright.

When he finally gets the door open, Midnight bounds over to him, meowing insistently, and the smell of baking cookies smacks him across the face. 

“God, that’s powerful,” Izuku says, a bit sick of smelling sugar cookies for the day. “Hi, Midnight. Where are the rest of you? Didn’t I feed you already?” 

All Might stands in the doorway, looking shocked but also pleasantly surprised. “Are you going to come in?” Izuku asks, and wait, that might be rude, but can you blame him? He doesn’t really know what to say right now. 

“Ah. yes. Whose cafe--?”

“What would you like to have?” Izuku asks, locking the door behind him. All Might blinks, and looks up at the menu Izuku had chalked in yesterday, before he was utterly catatonic.  

“I’m not quite sure, my boy, I have--”

“Do you like cats?” Izuku asks right after, only realizing he’d never gotten a proper response until his mouth had shut. 

“Er… yes.” 

“Cool. Cattos!” Izuku calls out, marginally louder than usual. like clockwork Grease, Red Bean, Eraser and Egg Roll join Midnight smack in the middle of the floor. All Might’s eyes widen and he sits down. 

“What are their names?” He asks, and Izuku wants to fanboy, distantly, at the sight of the Symbol of Peace melting at the sight of a few cats. 

“That’s Egg Roll, that’s Red Bean, that’s Grease, and that’s Eraserhead, after the Pro, but we call him Eraser.” Izuku doesn’t know what ‘we’ he’s referring to, given the fact that he’s by himself, but he’ll roll with it. “And the one you already met is Midnight, also named after the Pro.” He watches All Might’s eyes sparkle, and turns around, grumbling. He hopes All Might isn’t personally acquainted with them, but with his luck they're best pals. 

“Of course All Might knows them. Please don’t say anything, All Might-san, it'll be the death of me.”

There’s an unnatural stillness in the air, and Izuku takes the pause to vault over the stuck counter-portion he’s supposed to be able to push open, and then pops back up again to give All Might a grin that he knows doesn't reach his eyes. 

“Since you don’t have a stomach, is it alright if I just give you a honey green tea, All Might?” He asks, because they’re already made and they should be alright for him to have, despite the fact that honey is hard to digest… and then stops as All Might’s face rapidly pales and he drops Midnight, who lands and slinks away with a baleful squeak. “Are… you alright, All Mi--” Izuku stops. 

All Might. He’d just called the man All Might, when the man thought his secret was safe, hadn't told Izuku anything. 

“Shit.” He mutters, and looks back up at All Might. “Um.”

“Who are you?” It’s not a question but an accusation, something Izuku doesn’t have the strength to respond to. All Might stands up, and Izuku starts. 

“I’m just… Midoriya Izuku, Toshi-san… Midoriya Izuku--!” Izuku squeaks as All Might puffs up, his Quirk activated, and he scrambles back to the machine. 

“Give me one reason I shouldn’t apprehend you here and now,” All Might says coldly, and Izuku studies his face, because how does someone sound so cold with that smile, with those sad blue eyes? 

Then the machine dings into the dead silence, and Izuku grabs the green tea with a shaking hand, because holy hell is he going to die?  

“Your… your green tea is ready,” He whispers, voice shaking, a hand gently placing the already sealed cup of chilled green tea on the counter. 

“That information about me is highly classified, only four people know of it, and the fourth is buried--”

“--Six feet underground, next two a twin headstone with a gardenia planted in between them. Nana Shimura sits under there, in her spare hero costume, because they couldn’t use the old one. It was destroyed by an absolute scumbag who was determined to take the good out of the world, someone who pulled all the strings from the background and formulated the entire hero community so it would collapse on itself, she was destroyed by All For One, and I know.” Izuku says, faintly, because he is about to become a splatter on the ground, and then he pales further, because that information is private, and Izuku shouldn't know. 

(What does he say? How does he say it? What can he do? Should he tell him he's Quirkless? Should he tell him about his actual Quirk? Mom said not to trust anyone, the threads whispered, this power is dangerous, but-- but it's All Might.)

"How?" Toshinori asks, and Izuku faintly realizes that he looks vulnerable, like he's been cracked wide open and that isn't a wound he can hide very easily. "How can you know?" He asks hoarsely.

Izuku tries for a smile. He'll die for this one day, he knows. 

“I know, All Might, because this is my Quirk. I promise.” All Might strides forward, up to the counter, and Izuku wants to shield his eyes from the look on All Might’s face, because he’s never seen it directed at him before and he’s about to piss his pants. “Please, detransform, All Might. You can’t waste any more time," he whispers, praying he'll believe him. 

All Might’s hand shoots out, and Izuku flinches far too hard, reminded of Kacchan, no, please stop, don’t burn that, ow! but then he looks back up again and the man has deflated, a world-weary look upon his face as he pokes a straw through the green tea and sits down. 

“Can you explain?” He asks, and Izuku wants to shut his eyes against the desolation on his face. Instead, he nods, puts on a small smile ("be strong, dear! always have a smile!") and sits down next to him. 

“I was Quirkless for nearly 14 years of my life, Toshi-san," he begins, and the man shoots him a startled look. "Even though I didn't have the toe joint, my Quirk just needed specific circumstances to manifest."

"...And those were?" Toshi-san asks, hesitantly, almost as if he's not quite sure if he wants to know.

"Trauma and loss," Izuku says shortly, flat. If he talks about it the wound in his heart will open again, and then he'll be crying and the threads can't have that.

"My Quirk isn't called anything officially, Toshinori-san. I'm still Quirkless in the registry." Toshinori looks at him with wide-eyes, and Izuku throws back an equally pleading look. 

"It needs to stay like that, Toshi-san-- you understand more then anyone else, right? Why yours is labelled Superpower, and not anything else?" He's nearly whispering now, and Toshinori looks like someone's kicked him in the gut.

"Yes," he says quietly, and at that it comes spilling out of Izuku.

"Officially, I don't have a Quirk. It never manifested. Unofficially, though..." He gulps. "I call it Omniscience."

Toshinori nods, slowly. Processing. Realizing.

"I... I can see everything, Toshinori-san," Izuku says, tugging a hand through his curls. "I… I can see alternate futures, and the events of my future, sometimes. But the future is millions of pathways, so… so there’s always a different way it could go… it’s more of a probability thing than anything. I can see futures that won't come true, anymore, too-- and how close the futures are to our timeline…” He trails off. "That's why I knew who you were, and..." he winces at the silence as Toshinori sits, expression unreadable. 

“You remind me of someone, my boy…” All Might says and his face finally softens. Midnight, ever the attention-seeker, comes back, and he pets her with infinite gentleness. Izuku exhales a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding.  

“Nighteye?” He asks, and All Might looks surprised for a fraction of a second before huffing softly. 

“Right. You have the Quirk that knows everything.” He says, a small quirk to his lips, even if his eyes are still worried. 

“Yeah. So… I saw you and your secret in every universe, and I put it together… I’m very sorry, I didn’t think we would meet again, and that’s why I didn’t explain… and I can’t really explain that in a graveyard…” 

“It’s alright, my boy,” Toshinori-san says, looking at him warmly. "I believe you." Another pause, a silence that's marginally more comfortable. "That's a lot of information on just one pair of shoulders, don't you think?" Toshinori asks, concern in his blue eyes, and Izuku winces. 

"You could say that." He doesn't flinch when Toshi-san shifts in his seat, or he chuckles, softly. 

"I guess we're one in the same then, me with One For All and you with... Omniscience." Toshi-san's voice holds something akin to resignation and awe. 

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier on, but I can assure you. It’s best if this Quirk of mine doesn’t get broadcasted everywhere... if it were to get in the wrong hands... if I were to get in the wrong hands...” Izuku blinks hard. "I would do everything I could, but if this power is ripped from me I won't be able to do enough to stop the world from falling apart." It's perhaps a strange thing to say about a sort fortune-telling Quirk, since the future is fluid and there are many, many possibilities, but Izuku... something ancient in Izuku resonates. He knows there's more to it, he just has to figure out what. So he looks up, and meets Toshi-san's eyes witht he most determination he can muster, a wobbling smile on his face. 

(And Toshinori nearly shivers, because here this slip of a boy looks like a woman from years past-- he has Nana’s eyes, he thinks. Nana’s gleam. When he sees that look, he knows, because One For All hums in the back of his head and he knows this boy will do good.)

“I trust you, my boy," he says, and Izuku feels a weight lift off of his shoulders. "I won't tell anyone about what I learned here today, and I pray you will do the same." 

Izuku beams. "Of course, and thank you!" Then: "Would you like a croissant? No, those are too buttery, aren’t they…” Izuku pouts, and he can tell All Might is struck by his fathomless change in demeanor, but Izuku’s never been one for staying freaked out. At least, not visibly freaked out. 

“What can I feed you, Toshi-san? Your stomach is gone… Do you even like food?” He groans, flopping backwards over the counter. “Wait!” 

All Might looks up in the midst of taking as big a sip of green tea as he can muster, cheeks puffed out, and Izuku tries not to giggle. “Have you chosen a successor?” 

The green tea goes out in a brilliant spray illuminated in the mid-morning light, a perfect arc highlighted by All Might’s choking. 

“My boy--please--don’t--so suddenly--!” Izuku jumps up again, panicked. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I know not everyone has the same information as I do, I’m so sorry for startling you!”

“--that--was--”

“Are you alright?”

“Yes… I do think I’m okay now. Please give some precedence when you ask things of such secrecy, I don’t think my heart can take it.” 

“No kidding… Do you want another green tea?”

“If that wouldn’t be too much trouble, my boy. They taste like springtime.” 

“I know, right?!” Izuku says as he bounds over again. “That’s what I said the first time Mom made it.” Once they’re both settled down and All Might has picked out a thin slice of matcha roll cake, he looks at Izuku, uncannily serious. 

“I have not found anyone yet, young Midoriya. I assume this is another thing you found out with your... power?"

Izuku nods. "I know how important it is that you find someone who will carry it well. They... they turn out brilliant, and they help the world unfathomably. You carry a very... noble power," he says carefully, watches as Toshi-san's expression softens and opens up.

"...Could you tell me who I usually pick?” He says, and Izuku hesitates, not sure, because he'd seen so many choices, and he'd seen the ones where he-- where he was chosen-- “Ah. Will that change the path of the future?” Izuku blinks again, surprised. He hadn't even thought of that. 

“Mmmh, it might. But it’s all about perception-- if you think you knowing will benefit everyone more then you not knowing, I will tell you. But just then,” Izuku says honestly, and All Might blinks a few times, as if he is unused to someone so blunt. 

“I… I do think so.”

“Alright. Are you a teacher at UA this year?” Izuku asks, and then stiffens as All Might chokes on the matcha cake, and waves his hands around, frantically. “I’m sorry! Are you alright?” Once All Might stops coughing into a napkin, he turns and looks at the boy with a weak chuckle. 

“Yes. Yes I am… young man… you have an uncanny way with timing, don't you think?” All Might blinks tears out of his eyes and Izuku turns a faint hint of what he thinks is purple. 

“Well, you usually end up choosing Mirio Toogata, a third year Nighteye promises will be helpful… or Kirishima Eijiro, because of his hardy Quirk and his manly spirit. Sometimes you choose Uraraka Ochako, Shinsou Hitoshi, or even Iida Tenya on occasion, as well as Asui Tsuyu, I believe.” All Might looks at Izuku, while Izuku ponders the statistics. "Honestly, any of Class 1-A is usually fair game, but I don't know how this particular future is going to turn out."

“Are those all?” 

“Ehm… yes… because usually… there are two other ways it goes, but both of those futures are unreachable now...” Izuku says, closing his eyes and watching the threads snap together, vertigo consuming him. 

He can’t really explain how adjacent futures and probability worked in his Quirk, because it was just… instinctual. The chances of this future versus that future coming true were XX% higher, and vice versa. The clearest futures were actually made up of a few hundred different possibilities each, and it was terribly difficult to see which were most likely at any given moment. 

His head spins again, and he hisses his breath through his teeth. 

Damn, Eraserhead's Quirk had really messed him up. 

“Ah, really?”

“Yeah. In the last two closest future parallelisms you either die without passing on your Quirk, or you pass it on to… a Quirkless kid.” Izuku swallows hard, scanning the future and watching him grow, fight, live-- watching his mom grow older with him, watching her age and worry and hurt, but live and laugh and smile far more often, and… 

“A Quirkless child? At this age? What is… their name?” All Might’s voice has taken almost a reverent tone. 

“Ah… that is…” Izuku opens his eyes. “I’m the Quirkless kid. In that future.” 

“Oh. So there is no chance that future is attainable--”

“No, because I have a Quirk, and…” His throat dries up as he thinks again of Mom, and all of a sudden he can’t swallow at all. “And I don’t want to talk about it,” He whispers. Thankfully, All Might doesn’t pry. 

“Where will I find these children?”

“They’re all typically in the class of 1-A at UA, actually-- Mirio is in 3A.” All Might blinks, and then looks down at Izuku. 

“Young man, why aren’t you going to UA?” He asks, and Izuku smiles a little. 

It’d been a dream for him, and a realistic one when he discovered his Quirk, if only for a brief, naive amount of time. He could predict where the machines in the UA exam would go, and he was in well enough physical shape. But then Mom had started to get weaker, and when they’d sat down to talk about death and tax returns, Izuku had known he wouldn’t be able to go into a hero school, not while he had his cafe. “It’s certainly attainable with your Quirk.” 

“Toshi-san, did you wonder why I had the keys to the cafe?” Izuku asks, trying his best not to seem bitter, despite that whisper of a voice that murmurs he could have saved her he could have helped him he could have saved IZUKU-- because no. Mom barely had any time left to live, and Dad was… helping people. 

“I was a bit curious…” There is no connection of the dots in All Might’s eyes, so Izuku merely smiles. 

“Never mind then. I just have to take care of the kitties, I’m afraid. I think I’m rather close to wooing in another stray-- or at least Eraser seems to be. They seem to be good friends. I can’t just leave them here by their lonesome, can I?” He asks, hoping All Might won’t pick up on what he’s saying. 

“Ah, are you understaffed?” 

Oh, mother of All Might that hurt. 

“Yeah, you could say that,” Izuku says, acting as if he hasn’t just been sucker-punched in the gut. 

“I see. Are you planning on attending high school?” All Might asks, finishing off his green tea and nibbling on the cake roll like an oversized rabbit. 

“I’m taking online courses from Shiketsu, and I’m halfway through their first year high school curriculum, but I’m taking a pause to take some more… er… health-related college courses.” 

“Wow! That is a very impressive, young man.” All Might happens to glance at his watch, and Izuku can practically see the color draining from his face. “Oh, dear.” 

“Late to an appointment with Nighteye?” Izuku asks good-naturedly, and All Might turns his face towards Izuku like someone who is resigned to their imminent doom. 

“Are you sure you are not a mind reader, young man?” He cracks a half-grin, and Toshinori-san chuckles. 

“Ninety percent sure,” Izuku says, snickering. “Don’t skip it because you were late. This is your first chance to reconnect with Nighteye, and it might be your last. Don’t… don’t waste it.”

“I believe I should most likely feel a bit strange at the fact that I am being told what to do by a child, but you are probably correct.” Izuku gives him a sunny smile. 

“Glad we’re in agreement! No, you don’t need to pay me for the drinks, yes, I would like to know when you’ve chosen your successor, and I will tell you as soon as I make headway in figuring out who will work best in this timeline. You know where to find me, Toshi-san.” 

All Might shakes his head, puffing back up into his usual form.

“You’re unbelievable, Midoriya-shounen.” Unexpectedly, All Might plops his hand down on Izuku's head, a new softness to his smile, a grief in his eyes. Izuku doesn't have time to process because then his hair is ruffled once and it's over-- with a slight wave, Toshi-san is out and blasting through the air, and Izuku is watching him, feeling slightly faint at the interaction.

Holy shit that was All Might.  

When he looks down at the table, in place of money (which he’d hoped wouldn't be there in the first place), there is but a napkin with… ALL MIGHT’S SIGNATURE?! 

Izuku stares, mouth agape, and slowly makes eye contact with Grease, who is staring unimpressed at his impending meltdown. 

And yet…

From outside eyes, it would seem as if something strangely sobering has suddenly possessed Izuku, because then he sits back and the surprise and childish glee fades from his eyes. 

“Do you think he knows I’ve lived through hundreds more minutes then he has?”

“Mrow,” Grease says, and Izuku nods sagely. 

“Yeah, the sugar cookies are definitely burnt by now.”

~~~

After putting in a new batch of sugar cookies and looking up a very confusing recipe on potato knots, Izuku sits, restless. 

“What should I do, Eraser?” He asks, staring at the fat tabby. “It’s only noon.”

“Meow,” Eraser contributes, and Izuku nods, petting him and getting a handful of claw marks in return. 

“That seems like good advice.” So Izuku puts on his running shoes to make up for his lost run, and jogs to go visit his mother once again. On the way, he picks up some cherry blossoms, despite his promise not to leave any flowers for Mom. 

There’s no one in the graveyard this time around, and Izuku wonders how many of the weathered headstones still have living relatives to visit them. For some reason, the thought makes him really sad, so Izuku takes a moment to pray for all of the souls who don’t get visitors any more. 

He sits cross-legged in front of Mom and Dad, and stares at the little gardenia planted over Mom that's grown wide rather then tall, as if it could protect her with it’s tiny self. “Silly plant,” He murmurs. “You’re too small to do that properly.” 

Isn’t that what you tried to do, stupid nerd?  

Kacchan’s voice doesn’t come very often anymore, but whenever it does it’s painfully accurate. 

Izuku tells Mom and Dad about his day and how he’d met All Might, and he’d liked the cafe and the honeyed green tea he’d worked so hard to get like Mom’s. He still can’t cook for his life, but he thinks he’s finally got baking down. When Izuku’s throat goes dry and he’s very nearly rasping words out, he stands up, brushes the dirt off of his sweatpants, and walks over to the small headstone he’d seen All Might standing at, looking so defeated at, a few weeks before. 

“Nana Shimura,” Izuku murmurs. “A friend and a mentor… I wonder, does Tenko know who you are?” For a moment, he’s tempted to call Kurogiri again, just so he can ask if he’s ever seen Nana’s grave, but that’s stupid considering he has an active tracking signal on Kurogiri’s phone and he doesn’t want to lose the one lead he has, especially since it’ll probably cost him his life. 

He looks appraisingly at the cherry blossom bouquet he has, and leaves a generous half of it at Nana’s resting place, before sitting down and placing a hand on the grave.

Logically, it should be impossible, to immediately feel the twang of the threads and root through her past like she was still standing next to him. Obviously, Izuku hasn't ever been one for logic, and gladly indulges in watching a young, doe-eyed Toshinori. He stops before Nana's final moments, more out of respect then emotion, but there's pain now, at what Toshi-san had had to go through. He sits there for a while longer, just contemplating. Only once his legs go numb does he bother to stand up again, stare down at the last half of the cherry blossom bouquet.

“What should I do with this half…?” 

Conveniently, his phone dings with a notification for the hottest new trend--- raindrop cakes with edible flowers on the inside. “Huh. Cherry blossoms are edible, right…?” 

~~~

“I’m back…” Izuku says as he unlocks the cafe doors, in the knick of time.

“Mrow,” Red Bean contributes, but it's less of a ‘welcome back’ and more of an ‘feed me’, he thinks. 

“Thanks for the effort anyway, Bean,” Izuku says as the security shutters close down behind him with a bang that promises death. The door shutter, however, waits patiently for him to step out from under it, and then it too closes. “Thank you, door,” Izuku says, half out of his mind. 

Looking up at the shutters, he suddenly remembers what else had been on his agenda, and bolts upstairs to shuffle through the cards. 

A tap on his wrist and the outfit that makes Polaris 2.0 goes up around him, and he grabs the visor, wrinkling his nose slightly at the awful smell of dried blood despite his best attempts to clean it. When he shimmies out of the window and off of the balcony, he finds a low-rise’s roof facing the Viridian. 

“Um, is this Hatsume Studios?” Hm. “Yes. I would like two forcefields-- one of the aura detecting and the other straight protection, please.” A pause. “Mhm. Yes, I know how the Shield works, thank you very much. The aura detector-- at, so it isn’t an organic Quirk based item? That makes sense, it would be hard to keep up a field for so long. Alright, thank you.” When he hangs up, it’s with great excitement, and he crosses off Hatsume Studios from his list of favors. Well, at least one favor from them. 

He lies low to the ground of the roof (isn’t that a strange oxymoron) and detransforms, waiting for the visor to become compact once more before standing up and making his way down the emergency exit and up one of his balconies, eager to wait for what he’s just bought-- a forcefield that can be activated to stop falling debris, near-direct attacks and fire as hot as Endeavor’s. He was in the middle of Musutafu, right by UA-- there were bound to be villain attacks eventually. 

(Especially with what futures he'd seen.)

The second is like a forcefield but… more of an emotional detector-- with tech so advanced it can read whether someone has good or bad intentions, what their mood is and what is on their person with it’s sensors. 

Plus if Izuku heard the lady on the other side correctly, it was going to be assembled by a drone, which was only the coolest thing ever. He looks around at the garden, and the mini-greenhouse set up in the corner of the roof and smiles. “Oh, right! The cherry blossom cakes… will I have time?” He looks up at the rapidly darkening sky and shrugs. 

~~~

Exactly twenty-seven minutes later, Izuku has made a prototype raindrop cake, plus two more. 

Twenty-eight minutes later, he has fed the cats, grabbed his laptop, a handful of blankets and pillows, and a tray of coffee-cakes, coffee and hot chocolate, retreating up onto the roof with all of the cattos and shaky balance. As soon as he can, he sets down the tray of snacks, moves to a suitable place where his vision isn’t blocked by plants, and makes himself a pseudo-pillow fort. 

Thirty minutes later, he is converging all of the data he’s tracked on Kurogiri, the phone conversation they had as well as all of the eyewitness accounts he could scrape up and is typing it into a singular document. 

Thirty two minutes later, he has finished copy-pasting, is downloading several things into the hard drive he’d brought with him, has deemed the raindrop cake passable and the shrimp chips not so much, and is writing up analysis on how Eraserhead could possibly hide the fact that he was a Pro Hero, or that he was using his Quirk, even better. 

He’s just getting to the part where he rants about how Eraserhead should keep his hair short or tied up so people don’t see it fall when he activates his Quirk, after a long spiel about tinted goggles so he didn’t have dust or all manners of thing flying into his face and he could, oh, Izuku didn’t know, conceal his glowing red eyes when there’s a buzz and a drone floats up to where he is, a small red light the only sign that the drone is being remotely controlled. 

“Oh!” Izuku says, and imagines the way his eyes must be shining in delight. “Can you set this one up on the roof here, and the other one down there on that door?” He asks the drone, pointing down to the first floor. 

Surprisingly, the drone obliges, and Izuku sits in comfortable silence, exited out of his analysis since he doesn’t trust cameras in the slightest, not even when they belong to cool remote controlled drones. It flies back up to him when it’s done, and Izuku exchanges a stack of yen notes for a strange device reminiscent of a tablet, as well as an unidentifiable USB port… charger thing...?  

He waves at the drone as it flies off and then busies himself with figuring out the controls. He presses the ‘on’ button of the aura one, and nothing happens except a faint glow from the door, almost like a light that was meant to be there for anyone who wanted to read the hours in the dark. Perfect. 

When he presses the actual forcefield one, he’s delighted at the opalescent purple that creeps over Viridian in slow motion. He throws a pebble at it, and in an instant, more of the energy from round the pebble concentrates into a brighter purple until the pebble bounces back. Izuku stares in amazement. 

Coming to think of it, it kind of reminds him of the suit he’d gotten as Polaris 2.0.

“Cool!” When he walks through the forcefield, it’ll read his DNA and not push him back, but everyone else will just be repelled. Forcefully. 

He tries his best not to be a fanboy, lest he accidentally dismantle the remote and not know how to put it back together, but he kind of feels like Christmas has come early. He deactivates the force field and stands up to finish his report and download it onto the hard drive, shutting his computer and stretching. 

“Do you know the vigilante who contacted me yesterday?” A dry voice chimes in from somewhere to Izuku’s left, and in an instant he has his staff out. 

In what barely is a breath, Izuku has his staff whispering through the air to land by Eraserhead’s temple, and he only languidly turns to look at Eraserhead once the rest of his body is in a combat position. 

(He regrets aiming the weapon at him at all, but the bottomless panic at being taken by surprise had overwhelmed him. Eraserhead was bad news. If he managed to erase Izuku's Quirk, he'd put two and two together immediately. Izuku had to figure out some way to make it look like he really was Quirkless, but this situation isn't looking good for him at all.)

Eraserhead’s scarves hover right there next to the staff, and it’s like they’re both frozen in time. 

(Shouta will never admit it, but the lithe way this boy had moved scared him, because he saw some seasoned Pros who couldn’t move like that, and the way his green eyes simmered under the stars promised knowledge and secrets and fire, as if there was an entire universe glittering under his lashes. 

In that moment, Eraserhead knew this kid was not to be messed with-- surrounded by plants under a starry sky, hands outstretched, he didn’t look entirely human, and Eraserhead thought, privately, that he might as well be more of a vigilante then the other one had been.)

Izuku eventually realizes he should answer Eraserhead’s question. He’s decidedly tempted to say no one had dropped off information, but he does really want an opportunity to chat with Eraserhead. 

“Polaris?” Izuku asks, because he’s still a bit numb from Quirk exhaustion and it is lovely to stretch his limbs like this, even as he is dimly aware he is threatening his favorite Pro Hero. 

Eraserheads eyes widen, and the scarves droop. “He calls himself Polaris?”

Izuku studies him carefully. “That’s how they introduced themselves to me.”

“He can’t be the original. She was…”

There’s a pause, and Izuku languidly looks up to examine the grief in his red eyes.

“They're not.” With this, Izuku drops the bo staff and yawns, the strange feeling that had overcome him once he had peered into Eraserhead's unlit red eyes (You recognize me, no?) waning into nothingness.

You knew my mom then, huh?

“Here, sit. Do you like coffee?” At this, Eraserhead makes some kind of noise-- more like a huff of acknowledgement rather than a huff of amusement, but Izuku cocks his head to the side nonetheless. “What is it?”

“...Polaris offered me the same thing when they mentioned this cafe.” They, huh? Izuku thinks, a wry grin twisting up the edges of his mouth. So he is paying attention to what Izuku says. Hm. 

“I’m not surprised… coffee is kind of what a cafe is for, and Polaris has always been eager to extend my services to others…” Izuku murmurs, handing Eraserhead a mug-- one pump milk chocolate, no sugar, cinnamon and nutmeg, and watches him carefully as he tastes it. “Coffeecake?” Izuku asks, cradling a blanket around him, offering the plate. 

“And why is that?” Eraserhead asks, even as Izuku sees his eyes widen slightly at the undoubtedly familiar taste of the coffee. 

“Oh, you know. I don’t judge. You don’t fight in my shop, I respect you and your choices.” Izuku smiles when Eraserhead obligingly takes the coffeecake. “So you did actually like the coffee Present Mic got you?” Eraserhead’s throat-- well, he doesn’t choke, per se, but it’s still a noise. “I was thinking that the nutmeg and cinnamon by itself would be too bitter, so I took the liberty of adding chocolate. Did Midnight like the chai tea?” 

“So this is the same cafe he came to…” Eraserhead considers drinking more coffee. “Why are you catering to vigilantes and heroes alike, mister…?” 

“Midoriya Izuku,” He says, smiling placidly. “It’s only fair that you know my name since I know yours. And, well, it’s just a coffee shop. They’re all customers.” 

“So you would let murderers run amok in your shop?” 

“No.” Izuku’s voice is too harsh, so he takes a swig of his hot cocoa to calm down. “I will let honest Heroes, unfairly labelled Villains and dearly treasured Vigilantes buy coffee at my shop. But anyone who has murdered another soul has no place in my shop.” He speaks with an artificially calm aura around him. “And it is not just villains who have killed.”

(And Eraserhead knows he shouldn’t but he’s curious, painfully curious as to why this child isn’t stressing over the UA exams, why he hasn’t mentioned becoming a hero at all once, so he does--) 

“Why did you let me come here, then…?” Eraserhead asks, and Izuku laughs. 

“Don't lie to me, Eraserhead. You have not killed, much as you have wanted to-- you have not neglected lives, much as you blame yourself. You are responsible for no one’s demise, not yet.” 

(This is not a child, Eraserhead thinks. This is a demon in the guise of a boy.) 

Then Izuku stretches, looks up, and his eyes widen in obvious horror, and just as Eraserhead is about to turn and look-- 

“Midnight, NO!” Izuku jumps for the cat soaring towards Eraserheads head and snags her out of midair. 

They freeze, Izuku staring at Eraserhead and Eraserhead staring back, until he slowly shifts out of his tensed position and appraises the cat in Izuku’s arms. 

“She does look a bit like Midnight, I can tell you that.” He says, and Izuku thinks he might see the faintest smirk on his face, hidden into the folds of his capture weapon. 

“Ah, yeah, she’s the one I adopted… the rest kind of just… came after her.” Speak of the devil and he shall arrive-- Eraserhead the cat is nosing at the coffeecake, which would be good and well if Izuku didn’t have a Pro as his guest-- “Eraser, get out of my coffeecake! ” Izuku growls, picking him up under the crook of his arm and sitting down with a huff, until he notices Eraserheads slightly-wider-eyed-than-usual stare and turns red down to the scruff of his neck.

“You have a cat. Named Eraser.” Eraserhead (the human) says slowly, and yep, Izuku definitely wants to die, just a little bit. 

“Yeah. His full names… er… Eraserhead.” Izuku buries his face in cat and continues to talk through muffled cat fur. “He’s a tabby, which doesn’t make sense, but the other three have food names and my mom thought Midnight would be left out if I didn’t give any of the others a hero name… so… here we are… and he sort of looks like your goggles, which by the way you should really fix with tinted lenses or something that’s got a re--” Izuku stops and jolts straight up, eyes wide and even more terrified than usual. 

(Shouta stares, eye twitching with the urge to repress the frown on his face and break out into a smirk, because well… this kid might be a wicked genius, but he’s still a kid, and Shouta sees that now.)

Eraserhead merely quirks a single eyebrow at him. “Anyway!” Izuku says, much too loudly, god, what is he doing? “Here is the information Polaris passed along to me, along with a message from it's author.” Eraserhead accepts the hard drive and looks at Izuku again. Had he taken the bait?

"You mean Polaris didn't compile this information?" He asks, and Izuku holds back the urge to shout and dance, merely shaking his head, close-lipped. 

"Not quite. There's someone else, though I couldn't tell you who they are." (Did he really want to do this?)

Screw it. He'd have two secret identities. 

“So, the message then?” Eraserhead says gruffly, and Izuku tries not to startle. 

“Ahem. So. They said… they said that this should be shared with Tsukauchi Naomasa… whomever that is, and All Might? And that… er… All For One is alive.” Izuku finishes, trying to make it seem as if he hadn't burned the words into his skull since yesterday, planning out what he’d say. Eraserhead's eyes widen, and Izuku nearly breathes a sigh of relief. He'd counted upon the Underground hero to have heard the whispers about All For One, and it'd paid off. 

“Why does he call himself Polaris, and who is he working with, to be able to provide such information? Is he a copycat?” Eraserhead is rather intent on this question, isn’t he? And also that Polaris is male, which, well, shit. He’s pretty good. Izuku smiles, worrying a curl between his fingers. 

“Um. They’re using the Polaris name as a… mantle? Since the original isn’t here anymore…I’m surprised you accepted the name that easily. They have a lot to live up to, but they seem to be up for the challenge. And the other... well. I don't know. Don't shoot the messenger,” he whispers with a small smile, looking downwards and hoping his sudden desire to scream isn't showing through his eyes. 

For a moment, it seems like Eraserhead is going to press, and it makes Izuku’s heart squeeze like a hot iron. 

(Shouta was still stuck. Where had she gone, the vigilante with the sharp smile who told him he could be a hero? The one who bandaged his scratches and found him stray cats and fed him when the foster home didn’t give enough? Who was this sudden duo, who provided analysis and laughed in the face of a Hero?) 

“Thank you.” Eraserhead unceremoniously gets up to leave, and Izuku stands up after him, nibbling on a coffee cake. 

He shakes the feeling back into his legs, and goes over to the part of the balcony not illuminated by fairy lights, the side where the rails are covered in boxes and boxes of flowers, taking Eraserhead’s begrudging gratitude as a clear dismissal. He ducks into the greenhouse, comes back out with a succulent he’d been planning on placing downstairs, and then Eraserhead talks to him yet again, as ready as he is to leap to the next roof and away. 

“Hm?” Izuku asks, turning to the telltale feeling of eyes staring into the back of his head. 

“Kid.” Eraserhead says, and there’s something unreadable in his eyes. 

(Shouta’s a bit confused, because how come he hasn’t seen a kid like this on any of the UA application papers? He’s practically a shoo-in, and Nedzu would probably take immense glee in picking the kid’s brain personally.) 

“How come you didn’t take the UA entrance exams?” 

(The kid-- Midoriya, his name is-- looks back towards him, a small, albeit sad smile on his lips as secrets twinkle in his eyes. He won’t tell him directly, Shouta realizes, and prepares to settle for a vague truth to pick apart once he’s back at UA with the staff, picking out the last of the applicants to enter the General Courses.) 

“Because, Mr. Aizawa,” Izuku says, walking over to him, all smiles now that the deed is done. “There would be no one here to take care of the cafe.” 

And then he lifts up the little succulent, offers it to Aizawa-san, and grins a bit wider. “Here. To remember the name.” The succulent’s little pot is labelled Viridian Cafe, and the plant is a blue-green. He stands there until Eraserhead takes it and then he waves. “Safe travels!” The man nods once, before turning back again. Izuku, who'd been about to breathe a huge exhale of relief, internally screamed again. "Yes?"

"Polaris told me not to use my Quirk in the cafe. Why is that?" Ah, blunt and to the point. Now it's time for Izuku to die. Poor him. 

"W-well... I can't be sure, but it might be because they know I'm Quirkless?" Izuku says, his voice going higher and higher in in nervousness. 

Eraserhead regards him coolly. "You're Quirkless?" 

"Y-yeah, it's something like my Quirk is dormant and it needs specific--"

Eraserhead's eyes blaze red into his, and his hair rises as Izuku feels his heart stutter and seize, watches the world go grayscale and horrid. Despite the fact that all of a sudden he can't think and there's a burning pain in his heart, he manages to downplay it just enough to look like he was a bit startled. 

"Sheesh, Aizawa-san, you scared me..." he says weakly, and can barely pull in another breath. Eraserhead holds his stare there for a few more moments of agony, and in those seconds Izuku manages a single, shaky breath before he's convinced he's going to die. 

Holding himself there when Eraserhead's eyes fade back to normal proves to be so, so much worse, but he does it, and he doesn't trip and fall and break his face again, though the threads are suddenly back and screaming. It's all he can do to keep from screaming when Aizawa finally swings away on his capture weapon, and he doubles over in immeasurable pain, but he's done it. 

The first step is complete. 

~~~

(When Shouta comes back, slightly confused, to UA with a succulent in his hand, Hizashi laughs. Nedzu takes the hard drive and promises to send him a copy, but doesn’t take the succulent when it’s offered to him. 

“I’m going to kill it,” Aizawa said, trying not to sound desperate. 

“No you won’t. It’s like a living piece of home decor, Eraserhead.” He reassures him. “If you can take care of 20 children, you can take care of a houseplant.”

“Great,” Shouta mumbles, and All Might laughs a bit in the background, thinking of gardenias and a green-eyed boy full of secrets.)

~~~

A loud thump wakes Izuku up, like a bad case of deja vu. 

He doesn’t see the fight between Knuckleduster and a vigilante named Stendhal.

He doesn’t see the craze in Stendhal’s eyes, the blood that comes pouring out of what’s left of his nose when Knuckleduster slams him in the face. 

He doesn’t hear the ideology Stendhal spouts, the morality and sickening sense he exudes. 

He doesn’t hear Knuckleduster rid himself of the menacing air. 

A loud thump wakes Izuku up, but by the time he gets outside, the fight has already gone away. All he can do is stare at the motionless body on the ground not two paces away from the cafe and pray to god that the hero who finds the culprit is alive the next morning. 

But that is neither here nor there. 

TO BE CONTINUED… 

Chapter Text

~Is he alright?~

Izuku wakes up approximately an hour later to the cheerful beeping of his aura detector letting him know someone’s in the proximity. 

Half-asleep still, and thoroughly pissed off because school starts tomorrow and he’s seven minutes from UA, do people know  how many customers he’ll have tomorrow? he opens the monitor and stares at it in disbelief. 

“Mmmh… okay, they’re male… so he’s covered in blood… but he’s a minor? Like, a my-age minor? And… he has a UA application projector in his pocket… this is making less and less sense.” He yawns again, grabs the first aid, and stumbles downstairs, nearly tripping over a cat. 

With a buzz, the shutter underneath the door rises up, and Izuku blinks, blearily, at the hunched figure smearing blood on his glass door. 

At first, he’s tempted to ask him to not get blood anywhere, but at second glance it also doesn’t look like the boy is breathing very well, and Izuku has a rather toasty cafe waiting, so he decides to invite him in. 

Then the boy looks up— holy shit, he really is Izuku’s age— and his eyes widen in horror when Izuku opens the door.

“Ah, I’m sorry. I’ll—I’ll leave.” The boy makes to get up, but sways a bit, and Izuku’s brain is just on a loop of not good not good not good so he doesn’t think, he acts. 

“You’re ridiculous. Come in, come in, gosh, you’re bleeding!” Izuku gets progressively more frantic, helping the purple-haired boy up, taking in his pale face. As soon as he touches him, though, the boy jerks back and Izuku is left to reflect on another poor decision. 

“Why are you helping me?”

“B—!” Izuku feels the threads fall out of his reach, and then he can’t think at all. 

“State your true thoughts.”

“You need first aid, and you’re bleeding, and you have a UA projector in your backpack, and school starts tomorrow, so why are you out here at three in the morning?” Izuku has no control of the words coming out of his mouth. 

Izuku blinks and looks up at the boy with new appreciation. Not everyone would think to use their Quirk like that, like a built in safety-check. This boy is shrewd. 

“Are you alright with me taking you inside now that you’ve checked?” Izuku asks, watches as the boy’s mouth falls open slightly until his eyes glaze over with pain. Or shock, he can’t tell. 

“Yes, please.” 

“Marvelous.” Izuku half drags, half carries him before they get to the spiral staircase and he realizes their predicament. “I’m going to pick you up, okay?” He waits for a response, only to see that he’s passed out. “Bridal carry it is,” Izuku mutters, and hoists him up, alarmed at how… well, not light, Tanaka-sensei had made sure he knew the difference between light and heavy, but he wasn’t heavy either, not as heavy as he’d imagine his own body might be. 

“Uuuugh, Red Bean get out of the way—“ he grabs the backpack and almost drops it— that’s why he suddenly got so light— and kicks it into the doorway. 

Trying to lock the door proves to be impossible when his hands are filled with human, so Izuku carefully deposits the boy onto his couch, sighing when he realizes he’s going to get blood everywhere, and then turns to lock the door. “Come to think of it, did I lock the cafe door?” He mutters, going back down to re-lock it. “Ah, no, I didn’t.” He sighs, and then rummages around under the counter for extra towels. 

He is then faced with a dilemma— he has no idea where the blood is coming off— there’s some dried on his face, and…oh god, is Izuku going to have to take off his shirt? “Screw it,” Izuku says. “Sorry mister, but you picked the wrong day to wear a flannel.”

Carefully, he peels the shirt away from a nasty cut— three gashes, long and deep, but nothing a few butterfly bandages won’t fix. 

Izuku stares at the disinfectant in his hands and winces in sympathy— Kacchan’s burns used to be hellish to disinfect. “At least you’re unconscious already, right?” Carefully, he splashes the disinfectant onto a cloth, dabbing carefully and grabbing the neosporin. “Yep, you’ll be fine.” Izuku listens to the way he breathes, comfortable knowing the mystery boy isn't choking on blood (like how his Mom— don’t think about it don’t think ABOUT IT ). 

“Wait… is there glass in your hair?” He murmurs, blinking and looking closer. “Did someone break a bottle over your head?!” He stares at the gashes, and then back up at the blood soaked face.

“Oh sheesh. Well, might as well get you cleaned up!” From then on, it’s just Izuku trying to figure out how badly the boy is hurt. When he finally cleans all the blood from his face, he stares, recognition in his eyes. “Shinsou… Hitoshi…?” He squints. “But why are you out here…?” Izuku sighs and opens his backpack, surprised to find that instead of normal school supplies, there’s just a lot of clothing, a UA Uniform (so he did get in!), a stack of yen tied together with a gold scrunchie (not Shinsou’s?) and the UA projector in an opened letter. 

Izuku looks at the supply list for General Education (because that’s, apparently, where Shinsou has gotten into) and groans, because he’s not going to get any sleep tonight, is he? Shinsou doesn’t have any of these things. 

He taps Shinsou on the shoulder, watches the way his past had unfolded, and then draws back, horrified, because it wasn’t some random thug who had beat him senseless, it had been his father. 

The world falls away as Izuku’s million selves ache, because there are some Midoriyas who are beaten and broken down just like Shinsou has been, time and time again, and they hurt for him just as badly as he might be hurting, and how did this end up happening? Didn’t Izuku say he was going to save everyone? 

And Izuku can’t bring himself to wonder just what if, what if?  

As he holds onto the shoulder of Shinsou, Izuku feels himself spiral, fall down and down and down, until he opens his eyes to a subway. 

He’s obviously not meant to be there, because several people startle at his apparent entrance, but the only one Izuku can bother to focus on is the head of purple hair smushed down by headphones, with closed eyes and too-tight knuckles clenching what is most likely a gym uniform. 

Izuku looks about, because this is definitely different from where he just was, and if he squints, he’s seventy percent sure the date on Shinsou’s phone seems to say the day from a week ago, which means… 

“Oh, are you taking the UA entrance exam?” Izuku asks brightly, brightly enough that people from around him hear and turn curious heads. Shinsou hears him through his earbuds, which is a feat.

Izuku might have just time-travelled, which is absolutely terrifying, but he’s going to go with it. Shinsou looks up as Izuku blushes, feeling his neck turn hot, because holy hell-- I’m not just viewing the past anymore, am I? If I was, they couldn’t see me! Before he has time to ponder what exactly him being in the past entails, Shinsou is narrowing his eyes. 

“What’s it to you?” he asks, defensively, and Izuku winces, somehow reminded of himself. 

“I think that’s really cool! But isn’t there usually a physical portion? You don’t look like you have a physical Quirk…” Izuku frowns down at him, internally wincing at how crass he’s being about all of this, and there’s contempt showing on Shinsou’s face now, isn’t there?

“Thanks for rubbing it in.” Izuku wants to rush to explain, but he can feel his brain being stretched like taffy, and that definitely doesn’t bode well for whenever he snaps out of this strange trance.

“No… that’s not what… I mean that you don’t have to get in by pure physical strength! There’s… um… as long as you save people from harm, you have a chance!” Shinsou still looks skeptical, so Izuku turns around, wheeling frantically to make up for his blunder (has he really gotten this bad at socializing with other kids his age?), and cups his hands around his mouth. 

“This guy is taking the UA entrance exam today! Can we wish him good luck?” Shinsou's eyes widen and he looks about fearfully, as if expecting everyone to grow claws and attack him, but Izuku is hoping, hoping--

“Wow, kid! That’s impressive!”

“I wish you the best of luck!”

“You seem friendly, I’m sure you can do it!”

“Tch. As long as you aren’t Quirkless, you’ll be fine.” Conversations spring up around Shinsou, and it’s all Izuku can do to step behind someone engrossed in their phone, still smiling, and then finally let himself simply snap back out of existence, reassured that most of the comments will be friendly. 

As he’s hurtling-- well, he doesn’t know where, exactly, but he can’t exactly open his eyes or he’ll lose track of the threads, a single thought has the time to occur to him-- 

“Wait. Now that I changed the past, how will the future be different? Oh my god, did I fuck up my present time?” He’s not quite sure how he can talk in the In-Between, but he supposes he has bigger problems to worry about right now anyway, so the thought isn’t worth pursuing, and--

“Ach!” Izuku jolts up from his spilled-over position on the carpet, and looks up to see a still-bleeding Shinsou, blood spurting from his own nose. 

“Goddamnit, I guess his parents really didn’t care…” Just to check that nothing had changed, Izuku scans the letter again, only to realize that the holographic projector-thing is replaying, and that-- holy hell, Shinsou got into the Hero Course now, class 1-A, rather then General Education from the five minutes before Izuku had jumped into his past. 

Did Izuku do that?

He turns and looks at him, beaming as footage of Shinsou saving various participants from enormous robots unfolds, and then groans when he realizes he’s going to have to buy school supplies, because Shinsou is still asleep. “Alrighty, let’s see!” 

~~~

“Ow,” The lump with purple hair breathes next to Izuku, and he looks up from his spot on the couch, gasping. Shinsou is awake!

“Welcome back to earth!” Izuku says, grinning and hopping up, closing his computer as the alarm clock beeps precisely with Shinsou opening his eyes, for 6:45 AM exactly. 

“Am I dead…?” Shinsou slurs as he reaches up from the depths of the blanket Izuku has wrapped him in and wincing. “Shit, never mind. Definitely not dead.” He cracks his eyes open, and Izuku notes with definite appreciation that his eyes are just as purple as his gravity-defying hair. He blinks-- once, twice, three times, and stares up at Izuku. 

“Hi!” Izuku beams, keeping his voice down in case Shinsou happens to have a headache. 

“On second thought, maybe I am dead.” Shinsou says, and the absurdity makes Izuku snort-- what, does he think Izuku is a ghost? 

“Nope! Not dead, just half-way so when I found you,” Izuku says. “But you have to get to UA sooner or later-- I think classes start at 7:30?” He says, tapping his chin. 

“How do you know I’m going to UA?” Shinsou is beginning to look more and more confused. “Where am I?”

“You’re in my coffee shop! I found you kind of… bruised up, a bit, so I brought you inside and patched you up!” Wow, Izuku definitely is giving off peak serial-killer vibes. 

“Patched me up? Ah… right…” As Shinsou rubs sleep out of his eyes, bits and pieces of what seem to be his typical persona come back. “Tch. Shithole of a family.” He stands, and looks down at his shirtless visage, and then back up at Izuku, slowly. 

“I-I’m sorry! I had to check your wounds! Your shirt was practically ruined anyway-- er-- I wasn’t trying to be creepy!” Izuku blurts, blushing vermilion, because what kind of a person does that? Serial killer vibes. God, he's awful at socializing.

"My wounds?"

"Y--" 

“Tell me how you know my name, where I am, and what your intentions are.” 

Ah, shit, this again? Izuku freezes, and his mind goes blank, but this time the strange box he's been put in feels more flexible. He pokes against it mentally, wonders what the strange sense of foreboding from the outside is, and waits for his mouth to start moving. This guy had serious trust issues. 

Izuku could relate. 

“I know your name because of my Quirk, and I saw your UA ID. Plus we met on a subway the day of entrance exams! You’re in the Viridian Cafe, now owned by yours truly, and I want to patch you up, give you breakfast and send you off to UA freshly showered and preferably not late!” Izuku inserts as much sass as the mind control will allow, flippantly giving Shinsou the most unimpressed glower he can while turning around to go grab the brewing coffees and the breakfast he’d made for the two of them. 

“Oh.” The word is filled with a strange softness, as if Shinsou is unused to kindnesses. 

“Do you trust me now?” Izuku asks, turning, hope shining in his eyes. When Shinsou hesitates a moment too long, Izuku deflates. 

He gets it, he really does-- a lifetime of being bullied can lead to shying away from anyone else, and he knows that, but a part of him wants Shinsou to trust him already. 

“Ah. I get it.” He grabs the two black coffees and the omelette he made for Shinsou and smiles. “Don’t worry, I understand! When you’re ready, feel free to shower and re-dress anything if it breaks-- and try to wash the glass out of your hair! I did my best, but I was not going to take off your pants no matter what,” Izuku mutters, and then feels his ears turn red. “Ah. I’ll just be downstairs-- mind the cats-- and I’ll have your breakfast-- just let me go die,” he mutters.

Fortunately, the only thing Shinsou seems to register is ‘cat’, because that is what he echoes back.

“Cats?” 

Izuku holds back a snicker. 

“If you shower fast, bathrooms on the right past the first bedroom, by the way, you can help me feed them!” 

~~~

(Shinsou isn’t sure if he’s dreaming or not, because yesterday had been a haze of pain and betrayal. He’d worked so hard, so damn hard to get into the Hero Course, studied and deflected all the harsh whispers that he wouldn’t be a hero, could never become a hero. He’d almost given up, when he’d realized what the physical portion entailed, but then the green-haired guy-- the very same guy, he realizes, and small world-- had told him about saving others, and he’d gotten in. 

And then he’d come home, told his parents that he was going to be a hero, and his mother shut herself away and cried, while his father drank more whiskey than usual and cracked the bottle over his head. There’d been shouting, furious packing, and Shinsou remembers looking around and wondering how he’d failed to notice how little possessions he actually owned. He’d taken the money in his sock drawer, taken a few changes of clothes and had run away, stumbling as his nose bled and his glass scattered into his eyes. 

But now he’s waking up, and he’s not sure if he made it, because it’s to a too-soft a blanket and warm sun and the smell of coffee. When he finally opens his eyes, he realizes there’s someone standing above him-- someone with green hair that has the sun cut through it as if it’s an emerald, and they’re grinning far too widely to have it possibly be directed at him, but somehow it is. 

“Did I die…?” He murmurs, and then looks down, where his various cuts have been carefully bandaged, and back up to the boy. 

Numbly, once he brainwashes him and remembers he’s the one who saved you, something inside him finally relaxes.

And if he cries for the first time in a while in the shower, where the water is hot (he wasn’t allowed to shower first in his parent’s home), the strange green-haired boy doesn’t have to know.)

~~~

Izuku watches as Shinsou nearly devours his omelette and snorts when he pauses and looks up, cheeks stuffed to the brimming. Waits until he swallows, because Shinsou’s eyes have something to say. 

“Why are you doing this for me?” He asks, quietly, and Izuku aches at the suspicion in his voice. He’d tried his best to make the Viridian a place where everyone could feel inherently safe, and this was a bit of a blow to see. 

“Oh, you know! It’s what anyone would have done… you were bleeding a lot.” Izuku waves it off, and then glances at the time again. 

(And Shinsou, in the pit of his stomach wants to tell Izuku that no, this is not what just anyone would have done, because his entire apartment complex heard him and his mother screaming those terrible days his sperm donor happened to have too much to drink, and no one did anything, no one complained, because he was a villain--) 

“Almost done?”

“Mmmph,” Shinsou mumbles in lieu of a response, but Izuku won’t forsake him the reject croissant, so he just waits. 

“You’re going to be late to UA if you don’t hurry,” Izuku teases, and Shinsou’s eyes widen comically. 

“Shit, I forgot to--” Wordlessly, Izuku lifted up a large black backpack, one that didn’t stain with blood as easily as Shinsou’s green one had. 

(Shinsou stares in disbelief, because it’s filled to the brim with textbooks and notebooks he’d had to get yesterday, but he hadn’t because he was bleeding--) 

“Just go put on your uniform already,” Izuku says, feeling mildly exasperated. Is this how Mom used to feel when getting Izuku ready for school? God, it seemed like such a hassle. “You can meet the cats after school.”

“I-- thank you.” Izuku waits until he’s out of the room to shove a bento in there as well, patterned with green bunny rabbits (something Mom had laughed about for ages when he’d bought it). 

“Honestly. You’d think he was never shown a kindness in his life…” Izuku’s eyes widened. “Ah.” 

Shinsou comes barrelling down the stairs soon after, his tie slung around his collar and alarm in his eyes. 

“How am I supposed to repay you for this?” He near-demands, and Izuku grins. It seems Shinsou finally woke up and realized the strangeness of the situation. 

“Just come back to Viridian once school lets out. We can talk then?” Izuku asks, and a flash of wariness shines in Shinsou’s eyes. “Go on then! You’re going to be late! See if you can get Recovery to heal you in the morning, or during lunch. Once you come back, you can meet the cats!” Izuku calls, and that’s all it takes for Shinsou to start speed-walking to school. 

Izuku hopes he makes it. “Now, then.” Izuku blinks as he looks at the line that’s formed outside of Viridian, and wonders how he’d forgotten to open the cafe. “Shit.” 

~~~

It’s the same routine-- run about, set out drinks on the counter, bring people sweets and samples and stray cat treats to anyone who wanted them, and then continue. 

Over and over again, until Izuku is sure he’s about to fall asleep on his feet, because it’s the gratifying kind of tiredness that fills you when you’ve been doing what makes you happy-- just, you know, been doing it since two mornings ago without sleep and it was getting to you. 

In the lull that usually occurs once work and school starts, Izuku leans back on the counter and sighs, deep and long. “I did it,” He groans, and then curses as the oven dings with… well, with whatever he’d put in here. He honestly doesn’t remember anymore. 

Just as he’s taking out the brownies in there, the little bell rings again, and Izuku tries his best not to groan. “One moment!” he says, and then walks out, the oven mitts be damned, only to come face-to-face with Detective Tsukauchi-san, a regular, who looks… half-dead, if he’s being honest. “Ah, good morning!” 

“It’s not morning for me,” Tsukauchi mutters, rubbing at one eye absently. 

“Oh dear,” Izuku says, and places the brownies in the nearest empty spot, walking up to the register. “What would you like today, sir?” 

“What can keep me the most awake without killing me?” He says, and Izuku nearly snorts, because Tsukauchi-san had been this close to matching Eraserhead’s deadened tone. 

“Hmmm… I could probably just give you a lot of espresso… Do you want a straight espresso? Apparently this one is really strong,” Izuku says, eventually developing into a murmuring sentence that might even become a storm of muttering if he doesn’t bite his lips to stop. 

“Sure, kiddo,” Tsukauchi-san says, and Izuku has to resist the urge to huff. He’s not a kiddo, he’s 15! 

“So what’s got you up so late?” Izuku asks over the growling of the coffee machine. Tsukauchi’s eyes narrow for a moment, as if weighing pros and cons, and Izuku hisses internally at his prying nature. Come on, Izuku, don’t freak the man out!  

“Well, apparently Eraserhead’s received some info from Polaris, but… they aren’t like they were before, back before you were around, kid. Polaris used to do a lot of patrolling, especially at night, but we haven’t had any sightings…” 

“Oh, you don’t need to worry about that!” Izuku says so cheerfully that for a moment he forgets himself and nearly lets slip that he wouldn’t be going anywhere anyways. Tsukauchi blinks. 

“Do you know Polaris?” He asks, and well, Izuku sure fucked up. 

“Yes. You could say we’re friends!” Izuku continues, while repeating a mantra of oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck over and over again. Tsukauchi shows no visible reaction, so that must mean he passed it off as a truth, and it was true, wasn’t it? He did know Polaris, both Polarises… 

“What do they do here?” 

“I’m a coffee shop owner, sir! Surely you know why they come here.” Izuku tries to hold back a snicker at Tsukauchi’s deadened expression. “Sorry, sorry. They come here to hand off info to me every so often, but they’re never close enough that I can ask them… you know, actual information.” 

Please register as a truth please please please.

“You're the cafe owner?” Tsukauchi asks, and Izuku nearly chokes, because that’s what he’d caught on to? 

Luckily, the machine dings at that moment, and Izuku turns around to make the coffee. 

“Yep! Would you like anything else?”

“How did you meet Polaris?” 

“Ah… the original was close to me. I've known them since I was small...” Izuku says, and then realizes what the implications of that might mean.

“The original?” Izuku was going to die now, thanks much. 

“Yes. The… new one… is Polaris’s… protege, almost?” Izuku says, pondering it. “Is this all you’d like?” 

“Interesting. I hope you don’t mind if I come here to follow up every so often.” 

“No problem! I don’t think what they’re doing is right, anyway.” Then Tsukauchi’s left eyelid twitches, and Izuku wants to die even more, because that’s the tell of his Quirk-- how he’s detected a lie.

Of course Izuku thinks what he’s doing is right, he’s saving people! Luckily, Tsukauchi-san deigns to ignore it, at least for now, and Izuku is left shakey with adrenaline. 

“Could I also get something that’s… easy on the stomach?” Tsukauchi asks, looking up at the menu and squinting. 

Izuku looks at him, confused for a half-second, because he’d just asked for a coffee, which was in no way easy on the stomach, and now he-- oh!

“Oh, for All Might? He liked the honey green tea, but I’ll only put in a little bit of honey, if that’s alright?” Izuku asks, turning around. “And have it chilled, of course, it’s too hot for--”

“All Might?” Tsukauchi asks, and well damn, Izuku can’t half-truth his way out of this one. When he turns back around, eyes wide, he’s met with a stony look that has him sweat-dropping even worse than earlier. 

“...Yes. He visits every so often, and seems to enjoy the tea since it’s… ah, not so hard on Toshi’s stomach.” Tsukauchi’s eyes widen themselves, and Izuku grins sheepishly. Of course Tsukauchi knew All Might. Of damn course. 

“How…?” 

“Ah, I have a Quirk, Tsukauchi-san.” Aaaand now Izuku’s used his actual name. No, really, he had a Quirk?! What a novel idea, Izuku! He was so stupid. “It lets me… see things.” Then he looks up, at the clock, so he can look away from Tsukauchi’s eyes, boring into him. “Please talk to him about it,” He says at the ceiling, and then grabs a straw with the green tea and hands it over. 

“Fascinating,” Tsukauchi murmurs. Izuku thanks his lucky stars that Tsukauchi’s Quirk is what it is, since anyone else standing here would probably have already arrested him for knowing, oh, national secrets.  

“Please come again!” Izuku says, and he means every bit of it, despite the fact that he is definitely going to come back with around eighty more questions. 

The cats walk up once he leaves, and Izuku smiles down at Red Bean, who looks back up at him with half-lidded eyes. Then he looks down at Red Bean’s belly and frowns. “You didn’t eat everyone else’s food, did you? Why did you sleep in so late?” 

~~~

Lunchtime comes, and Izuku stands, readying himself for the barrage of people. What he’s not ready for is the astonishing number of UA third-years that come out as well, walking about and chattering. 

“Don’t you have Lunch Rush giving you food in the cafeteria?”

“Food, maybe, but not coffee,” One girl says, and Izuku frowns, because who would ever forsake Lunch Rush’s food?

(He forgets the bento he’d packed for Shinsou.)

“Huh.”

He gets to meet another of the big three-- a quiet boy with dark hair and a tremor that runs through him as if he is cold. Izuku looks at his down-turned eyes and the way his lip is pursed, and feels for him-- anxiety is never an easy thing to get through, especially with so many people about. 

“Hi, Amajiki-san. What would you like?” He asks softly, and the boy looks up, near-anguish in his eyes. 

He doesn't question how Izuku knows his name, and Izuku realizes with a pang that most everyone must know him from the Sports Festival-- that people knowing his name is a common occurrence. Goodness, Izuku could never stand that. 

“I lost a bet to Nejire, so… do you have an edible flower?” Izuku pauses and looks at him uncomprehendingly. 

“Wait. You… the raindrop cake?” Izuku asks, and Nejire hops up from behind him with a cackle. 

Together, they discover that Amajiki can, in fact, turn his hair into flower petals if the need arose. 

~~~

Izuku is just stretching out the crick in his neck when he looks up and is met with blue, blue eyes, red glasses and a ridiculously tight costume--

“Midnight?!” Izuku yelps, blinking, staring at her, because surely it can’t be Midnight, in the flesh?

This proves to be a mistake, because then the cat Midnight walks over and hops up onto one of the stools, meowing a ‘hello’. “No, not you, Midnight,” Izuku mutters, and then freezes when the Pro looks over to the cat. 

“That’s… Midnight?” She asks, and she has an interesting voice, Izuku thinks. It’s rather husky and-- nope, this is not the time, because she’s petting the cat that was named after her.

“Um… yes. Both of you are Midnight. Hello. Coffee? Like?” Coherent sentences have seemed to fail Izuku, so he resigns himself to singular words and hopes his message gets across, face burning bright red. 

“Oh my god, you’re adorable! Exactly how Shou and Hizashi described you!” Midnight near-squeals, and Izuku’s head snaps up, because--

“They talked about me?! ” He nearly shouts, and then if very thankful for the fact that there are not many people left in the cafe. Some look over, grinning at his fanboying, but for most regulars this is, well…  a regular occurrence. 

“Yeah, they totally did! And about your cats, too!” Izuku stutters at the thought.

“Midnight leapt at both Mic and Eraserhead… and Eraser tried to steal Eraserhead's coffee cake…” Izuku murmurs before he can stop himself. He looks up at the unholy delight in Midnight’s eyes and blushes harder.

“That’s amazing. Listen, I’ve got to hurry, but can you get us what you got last time? Everyone is kind of dying in the teacher’s lounge, and… well, All Might is there, and he’s kind of a big presence, you know?”

“Did he get the green tea?” Izuku asks, and Midnight blinks in surprise. 

“He… did have something when he walked in, I believe…” 

“Oh thank god, that meant all the embarrassment with Tsukauchi-san was worth it.” Izuku says, his breath escaping him in one sigh. Midnight quirks an eyebrow, but Izuku deigns to ignore it. 

“Okay! One chilled honey green tea, extra honey, one black coffee with a bit of cinnamon and milk chocolate espresso, and one chai tea latte with extra cinnamon, coming right up!” Izuku calls out. 

(Midnight, for a moment, is surprised at his uncanny memory, but Izuku has an astonishing observance that comes hand in hand with his Quirk, and so remembers all things he deems important in near-pristine detail.) 

When they’re all done, Izuku scrutinizes the experimental danishes he’d been making that had yet to be set into the display case, and slides them into a bag. Midnight looks at him, questioning, when he slides it towards her, and he offers a shrug. 

“They’re apparently American pastries, and I never got a chance to try them with customers… one is cheese, the other is cinnamon and the third is jelly. Oh!” He turns and carefully slides a slice of matcha roll cake into another bag and hands it to Midnight, who is now openly bewildered. 

“Are you forcing food on me now?” Izuku snorts before he can muffle it, and then blushes again, mortified. 

“No! These are free of charge, I just need taste-testers. And please get the matcha roll to All Might as an apology for how many times he choked on his green tea while he was in here…” Izuku says, rubbing the back of his neck, and then winces at the shine in Midnight’s eyes. 

That was certainly a story she was going to get out of All Might, he thinks, and feels a bit sorry for the man. 

“Um… Please tell Eraserhead to go easy on him, he’s new to teaching…” Izuku says with a sheepish grin. “And he might still be out of sorts for a bit.” 

“Will do!” Midnight salutes, and leans down to pet the rest of the cats, grinning all the while. Then she blinks. “Hey, isn't this one a bit… fat? Which one is this?” 

“Oh! That’s Red Bean! She’s…” Izuku stops, stares. “Hold on.” Grabs his phone, the cat, and steps over to the aura-detector. 

“What are you doing?” Midnight asks, and Izuku stares at what comes up on the screen, and then back up with barely-concealed glee. 

“She’s pregnant.” 

Midnight squeals, as does Izuku, and they spend the next few minutes trying to come up with new names for the kittens, and Izuku feels that maybe all is well. 

~~~

It’s nearly 3 o’ clock-- the sun is still high in the sky, and Izuku is ready to relax in the small window of time before people start heading home to their jobs, until he remembers. 

“Oh no, school.” 

And with that, he shuts off the oven, cuts up the brownies, reloads the display and takes two aspirin as he practically hears the bell to UA ring from inside the cafe.

~~~

The bells on the door ring again, and Izuku is seriously starting to want to cry. Maybe he should call Dabi and ask him if he can pick up some shifts, because he’s nearly out of pastries and it’s only three thirty. Still, he straightens up and smiles at his next customers, because that’s what everyone deserved, no matter what-- 

“Good afternoon, Midoriya-kun!” A cheerful voice calls out, and Izuku does feel tears in his eyes then, because he’d started to get a bit of that strange loneliness-- the feeling of looking upon people who didn’t really have an affiliation with you, and knowing you couldn’t be a part of their lives any more then you already were, a sort of strange isolation that made Izuku numb-- and he’d been missing company. 

“Hello, Iida-kun! How are you today-- Ingenium?!” Izuku chokes, and then remembers that right, Iida has engines in his calves, duh.  

“That’s me! What gave it away, the armor?” Iida Tensei asks, still in uniform, an easy smile on his face. 

“I’m-- I’m a big fan. Can I-- Iida-kun, can I-- er, I mean, this Iida-- Tenya, can I ask for your brother's autograph?” Izuku asks, struggling to identify each Iida properly. Both Iida’s eyes widen, and Tenya pinks.

Izuku stares at him, a wee bit confused, until he realizes. “Oh, dear! I’m very sorry, I’m just used to calling you Tenya, and I didn’t know how I was supposed to differentiate-- sorry, that was weird--” 

“Used to calling him Tenya? Pray tell? Why haven’t we been introduced earlier, brother?” Iida Tensei asks, a shit-eating grin on his face, and Izuku turns redder. 

“That’s-- that’s not it! It’s my Quirk!” Ah, shit. Why did he blurt that? Hey, at least the blush is fading from Tenya, and the panic from Tensei’s eyes is dimming. 

“That certainly sounds intriguing-- I don’t believe we discussed your Quirk when we saw each other last, Midoriya-kun! Is it a kind of sight?”

“It’s something like an Analysis Quirk, actually… I can see all the good things that have happened to you, and… kind of live through them? So usually I feel a lot closer to strangers than most people… So I’m sorry if I come off weirdly,” Izuku says, spouting utter bullshit as he continues rubbing the back of his neck, under his curls. 

(He feels bad about it now, lying about his power. He will feel worse about it soon. But that is neither here nor there.)

Iida-kun looks up, and smiles, something more genuine then what he’d seen from the boy all day. 

“That Quirk will certainly aid you in helping others. It is very fitting.”

“Ah, thank you!” Izuku says, trying not to feel bad about how he’s going to have to keep up with another lie. There’s a moment of nearly… dare he say touched silence? In between them. 

“...I believe we should order. Brother?” Izuku heaves a sigh of relief as Ingenium’s eyes drift up to the menu. Honestly. He craves friends but then is so bad at socializing he threatens to pop the blood vessels in his face at every interaction. Karmic injustices. 

“I’ll just have a cold-brew coffee. Tenya, what about you--” That’s not ideal. Cold-brew on an empty stomach is, well… awful.

“Don’t you want something to eat with that? I’m afraid it will--”

“Nii-san! That’s not good on an empty stomach!”

Izuku turns to blink at Iida, who in turn stops speaking to meet his eyes. A beat passes, and Tensei’s grin grows wider. 

“I’m glad I have found someone who appreciates nutritional value as much as I--”

“Thank god someone understands! All my customers call me a worrywart, but I’m just being factual!” 

They stop again, and Ingenium snickers. Iida huffs softly, amusedly, as he glances up at his brother, and Izuku chuckles behind his hand at the unmasked pride there is in his eyes. 

“Alright, I’ll have a cold-brew coffee and a croissant, how do you like that?” Izuku nods in appreciation. Iida looks up, squinting his eyes. 

“What’s the healthiest thing you have?” He asks Izuku abruptly, and Tensei chokes. 

“Tenya, you can’t just ask that in a pastry shop--”

“Well, if you’re looking for just a snack, I do have a melt sandwich that I can make you that I haven’t put up there yet…. spinach, cheese, egg and then fresh pepper? And you can have it with a black tea, maybe with almond milk, that would probably help-- unless you’re on a diet, but what with your Quirk I don’t think that’s needed-- how many carbohydrates can you have daily--” Izuku cuts himself off and groans. “Sorry, sorry.” 

“Oh my god,” Tensei says, and when he looks up his mouth is agape. “There’s two of you, Tenya.”

“Nii-san! It is rude to compare me to him, as I am sure we both have our differing short-comings (ow) and talents (aw)!” 

“Yeah, that’s like comparing a green bean to a brick shithouse,” Izuku mutters before he can register what he’s saying, and Iida freezes, horrified. 

“Midoriya-kun, that kind of language--” He’s interrupted by Tensei’s howling laughter. Many patrons look over, smiling into their coffee cups when they catch sight of the hero. 

(Someone quietly snaps another picture in a chain of posts that will someday become relevant.) 

“You’re a riot, kid!” He gasps, and then seems to get himself under control. “We’ll have whatever you recommended.” 

“Coming right up! Here or to go?” 

“What’s the difference?” Iida asks, looking genuinely intrigued, and Izuku is excited because no one ever bothers to ask. 

“Here has ceramic cups that you bring back up once you’re done, while to go has biodegradable containers!”

“What an ingenuitive creation!”

“I know, right?! Mom was a genius about those kinds of things!” 

(Here, Tensei frowns a bit and begins to examine his surroundings a bit more carefully.) 

When the two of them are seated, Eraser and Midnight begin to walk over, nosing Iida’s engines curiously. 

“Huh. Why do they like your legs so much?” Izuku looks down in the midst of serving them, curious. 

“Ah, my exhaust pipes are usually warm, since keeping them running is like training for my Quirk!” Iida proclaims loudly. 

“Uwaaa! That makes sense! In that case, if they could reach your arms, Ingenium-san…” Izuku giggles just thinking about it, but oh no Midnight must have heard because now the damn cat is launching herself at Ingenium’s face-- “No! Bad! Midnight! Don’t!”

Iida stares at the tray balanced perfectly on Izuku’s head with some disbelief, as if it didn’t belong there. Which was silly. You could put anything on your head if you had enough balance for it. 

Tensei, inversely, stares at the cat in Izuku’s hands. “I’m sorry, it’s like she had a radar for the most mischief she can make-- she’s already attacked All Might-san, Present Mic-san, Eraserhead-san, and Midnight-san! She means no harm, I promise… she’s just… dim.” Izuku looks down at the cat staring lovingly up into his eyes. 

“That’s… That’s Midnight?” Tensei asks, voice uncharacteristically shaky. Izuku looks up, surprised, and then sees the glint in Ingenium’s eyes. 

“Oh my god, did they tell you?” He asks, mouth agape. “Please don’t tell me Eraserhead, Present Mic and Midnight all told you about my cats.” 

“Wait… where’s the one who attacked Eraserhead's coffee cake?” Ingenium’s voice is shaking, and at that Iida perks up, his own gaze slightly mischievous. 

“Your cat attacked Aizawa-sensei’s food? I have only seen him consume jelly packets-- even during the test he gave us today, and lunch, while Lunch Rush was right in front of him…” 

“Yeah...This is Eraser, the one who attacked Eraserhead's coffee cake, this is Midnight, this is Grease, that’s Red Bean and the one over there is Eggroll. Red Bean is pregnant, apparently, which means there are going to be even more cats around.” Izuku resigns himself to the fact that he will remain red for as long as he is with the Iidas. 

“Here, kitties,” Ingenium coos, and in armor and all, he slips off his gloves and sits on the floor like a three-year-old.

“Um… Ingenium-san, I mop nightly, but is it really okay for your public image to do that…?” Izuku asks, peering down at him as he is slowly engulfed by cat. 

Iida shakes his head and eats his food, and Izuku sits down across from him to engage in a thrilling conversation about the first day of class 1-A and how some strange, short purple boy had been expelled at the end of their Quirk test. 

(Unbeknownst to them, Shinsou Hitoshi had finally made his way to Viridian cafe, getting lost in several side roads in the process. While trying to locate the cafe, he’d come across a small but locally popular hashtag-- #GreenAllOver, showcasing the various succulents around Viridan, snapping pictures of the special coffees, which were all green, and making lighthearted teases about the two owners, both of whom were green-haired and green-eyed. 

He finds this amusing, especially when he finds a few pictures taken by regulars of Izuku fanboying over several people’s Quirks. When Shinsou stops outside of the glass doors, it is to the image of Iida and Midoriya having a completely civil conversation in their own world, while the ever-popular rising Pro Hero Ingenium flounders in five cats, coffee cup held above them all and an obvious glee in his eyes. 

Shinsou takes a picture of the moment, and later on, he will be the one who starts the @ActualViridianMoments account on Instagram. This will be his first post of many, and it will be something Ingenium will hold over many hero’s heads in the light of a few… newer, viral videos. 

But that is a story for later, something not even Izuku’s Quirk can glimpse, truly. As for now, Shinsou will wait until most of the customers are cleared out to go inside.)

~~~

“Have a good night, Midoriya-kun!” Iida calls, and Ingenium waves, cat fur in his hair.

“Thanks for everything, green bean!” (Izuku chokes at the nickname) “I’m totally rubbing this in Eraser’s face!” 

(Later tonight, while Ingenium and Iida are on the train, Ingenium will turn to his brother, solemnity in his eyes and a twist in his smile. 

“Nii-san? What is it?” 

“That boy… he said he was the owner of the coffeeshop, didn’t he?” Tensei asks, softly, thinking. 

“Yes, he did, Tensei. Why?”

“Have you ever seen his parents, Tenya?”

Iida ponders this. “I don’t believe so.” He turns to his nii-san, infinitely wise. “Why?”

“He mentioned that his Mom ‘was’ good at everything… I don’t think she’s around anymore.” Iida’s eyes widen, horrified.

“You mean he’s tending to that cafe all by himself?!”

“Yes.”

“...I will visit often then.”

“Good idea, Tenya.”) 

“Goodbye!” Izuku says, and looks about. Nearly everyone is gone, since closing time is slowly creeping up on them, but--

“Oh, hello, Shinsou-kun! I was not expecting to see you here, how are you?” Iida’s loud voice rings over the glass door closing, and Izuku looks up, surprised. He’d almost expected Shinsou to bail. Evidently, Shinsou is better at deflecting casual conversation then Izuku is, as he walks into the cafe soon after. 

“Hi, Shinsou,” Izuku calls softly, as he watches the safety shutters crawl down. 

(He wants to ask why he was out for so long, because he wants to believe a friend invited him out… but Izuku knows reality and his wishes couldn’t be further apart in nature. 

Another part of him thinks that perhaps the reason Shinsou is out is the reason Izuku used to busy himself with studying when he wanted to hide away from his mother and his bullies on long spring days, sitting in the library until everyone had left, and he hopes with all the fibers of his being that that is not what Shinsou is accustomed to doing, hiding.  

But his wishes are furtive in the face of the threads.) 

“You made me lunch,” Shinsou says, flatly. It’s… a question, of sorts. 

“I did.”

“You didn’t… have to. Lunch Rush makes our food,” He says, and Izuku flushes, because now he feels like an idiot. 

“Oh.”

“I… ate yours anyway. It was good.” Shinsou looks back up, and it feels like an invitation.

“Would you like to meet the cats now?” Izuku asks instead, because while he isn’t great at deflecting, cats make a good excuse to delay any conversation. 

Shinsou's eyes widen marginally, and a soft smile Izuku isn’t a hundred percent sure Shinsou is aware of graces his features. 

“Totally. What are their names?”

“Kitties!” Izuku calls, looking out at the honey-gold of the light still streaming through the door. He usually closes that shutter last, drinking in the last dregs of golden sunlight until it turned a cooler green, blue, purple. “This one is Eraser, that’s Eggroll, that’s Midnight, Grease, and Red Bean.” 

“You named this one… Eraser?”

“For Eraserhead,” Izuku mutters, and blinks when Shinsou just accepts the fact. 

“He’s the coolest,” Shinsou murmurs, and then blinks rapidly, as if wondering why he’d just told Izuku that. 

“Yeah… It’s always been a fight for favorites between him and All Might for me,” Izuku says with a wry grin that Shinsou doesn’t see. It lapses into silence as Izuku tries to work up the pluck to ask Shinsou why, or how he’d ended up covered in blood, even though he saw--

“My parents don’t love me,” Shinsou blurts, no tact or precedence, just like Izuku would have done. 

Then he flinches and looks back up at Izuku, eyes wide and mouth twisted like he can’t believe what he’s just admitted, but he continues. 

“I don’t know what I’m going to do. My dad… he used to beat me a lot, and my mom’s a mess. When I told them I got into UA, that I could be a hero, they-- they fucking laughed.” He tangles his hands in his hair, and Izuku winces. 

(“A hero with such a weak Quirk? That’s a bit…”) 

“And then they kicked me out of the house, my mom-- she, she called me-- she told me she wished I never existed, and my dad-- well, you saw the fucking glass everywhere,” He breathes out, and Izuku feels tears burning in his eyes. “I didn’t know where to go, and I was just going to find a shelter but I collapsed, and then I found the wound on my stomach, and I just thought... this is it.” 

He sucks in a shaky breath, and Izuku stares at him, in shock. 

“Stay here,” He says, without thinking properly. 

“In this spot?” Shinsou asks, gesturing down to his cat-covered visage. “I mean, I’m not complaining, but--”

“No, stay here in the cafe,” Izuku breathes, and Shinsou freezes. “I live upstairs-- there are two bedrooms, and I’m not using one of them, and I’m kind of lonely here. And-- and I can pay you, and I can make you a million more lunches, if it means you go to UA and become a fantastic hero and flip the bird at anyone who doubts you.” 

Shinsou laughs, but it’s choked and garbled, as if he’s coughing up broken glass.

“What about you guardians? Why would you do that for me?” 

“They’re overseas, apparently, and… it’s… Shinsou, my Quirk is to see all the good things in people’s lives. And… god…” Izuku runs a hand through his curls, running with this lie that isn’t technically a lie, because he could see the parallel threads to this world, this Shinsou, and they were--some of them were so bleak--

(And Shinsou looks up at the distress in Izuku’s eyes, and wonders how someone so kind could possibly exist, that he’s crying on Shinsou’s behalf, but that is neither here nor there.)

“Shinsou, you need some good fucking things in your life, because all I see that’s good in your life is you, and that’s not fair,” he finishes, voice cracking. 

“You’d really let me stay here?” He asks. Izuku grins, trying his best to subtly wipe at his eyes. 

“Of course! Besides, I’ve been needing a part-timer anyway. I’m going to work you to the bone, young man,” Izuku says, and Shinsou laughs. This time it sounds more like a laugh. 

“And the cats seem to like you. That’s a sign from the heavens.” A bit more like a laugh… he just needed another joke… but he was fresh out of imagination. 

(Little does Izuku know that the smile he’s given Shinsou morphs into something softer in the sun, and his eyes glitter in that mysterious way, and somehow, the secrets seem just as inviting as they are hidden. They live in the glimmer of his emerald eyes.

They will both soon discover that some secrets are better kept hidden. But that is neither here nor there.) 

“I can show you the ropes tomorrow… tell me how class went today?” There’s a moment of silence, and then Shinsou looks back up again, and utters words Izuku never would have thought to hear. 

“I saw All Might today, and… Eraserhead is my homeroom teacher… Midoriya?” Shinsou says, squinting at the nametag to double-check. “Haha. Fitting.”

“Homeroom teacher?!” Izuku gasps out, stars in his eyes, and Shinsou grins wider. 

“Jealous?”

“Yeah! He gets coffee from me, but I’ve never had a real--”

“He gets coffee from here?”

“Yeah!”

~~~

(Later that night, Shinsou walks upstairs and finds the bedroom Izuku had directed him to, feeling more… well, hopeful is a bit too optimistic, but more awake would probably be valid…. More awake then before. And when he shuts the door, investigates the room because he knows he’s not going to be able to sleep right away, he realizes why the green-haired boy might have been so welcoming. 

“Overseas, huh?” He murmurs as he stands in front of the two shrines-- the green-haired lady, and a yellowing picture of a curly-haired, amber-eyed man with Midoriya’s freckles. “I guess we’re more alike than I thought.”) 

Later that night, Izuku slumps down in his chair, exhausted and in possession of more information on genetic testing then he’d have thought possible. 

He doesn’t know why he feels the need to look at so many records, but it’s an itch too far away in his threads for him to find out just yet. He holds up another flash drive, shakily but triumphantly, and then yawns long and wide, waiting for sleep to hit him on the couch, nestled in between Red Bean and Eraser.

~~~

When sleep finally takes him away, the threads behind his eyelids twist and writhe, pulling themselves into his find until he’s stepping through them in an effort to get to his dream. He looks about, confused at the margarine tangerine and the bubbly blue, as if he can figure out why they’re in such a disarray tonight. 

“Please help me,” A voice whispers from behind him, small, high, child-like. Izuku turns, and is confronted with a monster in a man’s skin, an angel in a little girl’s. “He’s going to hurt me again. Please…” 

“How do I help you?” Izuku asks, squatting down by the little girl’s disheveled form. It's a shame she’s in so many vibrant comic book colors, because he can scarcely make out how she must look in real life, if she existed at all. 

“Don’t let him take me apart,” She begs, and when her hands clench onto his shirt they’re solid, and Izuku feels his face drop into horror, because she’s real.  

Somewhere, a girl is afraid of being taken apart and put back together again by a monster in human skin. Izuku stares at her thread, disbelieving. “Please, please--” He stares as her form explodes, showering him in fizzing soda-candy sparks, and for a moment he wonders if she really was just another ploy to torment him from his Quirk. But then he looks to the side, following her thread to him, and--

And her thread decays, snapping in the wind, like a broken jumping rope, like the way his mother’s thread had looked when Endeavor kILLED HER--

(If Izuku had stayed, he would have watched it be reknit-, pushed back together again by an equally terrifying force, but he is already jolting to the world of the awakened, misinformed and no less terrified.)

Izuku opens his eyes with a tortured gasp, and on silent feet he heaves himself up and past Shinsou’s bedroom, opening the door to the bathroom. Only when he has softly shut the door and blocked the sound off, does he lean over the toilet and throw up whatever meager food he’s managed to get down. 

He won’t admit his Quirk is taking a toll on him, but that… that girl had been unmade in front of his eyes, and her thread-- Izuku’s stomach pulses in revulsion and he throws up again before he can stop, making awful heaving noises. Her thread had been ripped apart, she’d exploded into blood and bone and pieces-- Ah, he’s throwing up again.

The door opens as Izuku sobs over the toilet, trying his hardest not to throw up again, because he never wanted to feel something like that again, as if something had stood on the little girl’s thread (like Endeavor had stomped on Mama’s thread, grinned and basked in the glory her senseless death had brought) and ugly noises rip out of his throat.

“Midoriya…?” Shinsou’s soft voice echoes through the bathroom, and he looks up, exhausted. 

“Hi, Shinsou. Did I wake you? I’m sorry,” he croaks, and then shudders again.

“It’s… are you… what happened?” Shinsou asks, concerned about creasing his brows. Izuku wonders, faintly, how the world could abuse someone as kind as Shinsou, could stand to do so. 

“My Quirk,” He gasps out sniffing away the worst of his exhausted tears. “Was just… a nightmare.” Shinsou kneels down next to him and winces when Izuku gags again, but he doesn’t flinch away. 

“It’s alright. Do you want me to get you something to drink?” He asks gently, and Izuku nods, blinking blearily, not bothering to consider the fact that maybe Shinsou had no idea where the drinks were, given his kitchen was in the cafe. When Shinsou walks out, Izuku sits back, looks down at the blood in the toilet bowl and sighs. 

By the time Shinsou gets back, Izuku’s cleaned himself up, and gratefully accepts the mug of… hot chocolate? He looks up, surprised, and Shinsou meets his gaze with a sheepish grin. 

“Sorry, I wasn’t sure if you liked it or not, or if I could use it, but--” Izuku sniffs, hard, overtaken once more by memories of his mother, and Shinsou’s eyes widen comically. “Ah, shit, I’m sorry! Do you hate it?!”

“No… no. These are…. Th-these are happy tears, Shinsou.” 

“If you say so.”

Izuku looks up at Shinsou guiltily. “Are you going to be able to sleep okay?” 

“Yeah, I’ll be fine,” Shinsou says, trying for a smile but mostly just looking exhausted. “I guess I’m just not used to the silence yet. No screams, you know?” He says, probably going for a joke. 

“I can help with that,” Izuku answers instead, clicking on the speaker in Shinsou’s (Mom’s-- don’t think about it) room from his phone. “Piano music okay?” 

“Huh?” Shinsou stares at him, rubbing his eyes. 

“Good enough. I’ll send a few cats your way. Sleep, please. You’re going to need it for tomorrow.” 

What Izuku likes about Shinsou is that he doesn’t question things-- he just accepts them as is. It may be from years of abuse, of denying him what he needs, but Shinsou seems to be able to accept any situation (excluding kindnesses, which Izuku finds so frustrating) easily, so he doesn’t question Izuku and shuffles back into his room, keeping the door half-open. 

Still clutching the mug of hot chocolate, he moves back into the main living space, grabs his laptop. Connects it to the TV, grabs a notebook, and begins writing down a few hero names-- Mic, Midnight. Ingenium, Eraser, Cementoss-- he examines clips of their fights, stressed at each detail on the TV, magnifies and clarifies and writes and writes until he’s got documents filled with analysis. 

Only then does he feel a bit safer about the snapped thread, knowing their abilities and weaknesses. He grabs a blueprint he’d spent meticulous hours sketching out, detailing a smoke bomb, and downloads it all into another flash drive, simply labelling it ‘From Polaris’, and then closes his eyes. 

“Who are you…” He searches, scanning and scanning the furthest threads, hoping, praying that who he’s looking for is far away, but like he’s said-- his wishes are furtive in the face of the threads. 

“...Eight Precepts?”

TO BE CONTINUED… 

Chapter Text

~You would think they were different people, wouldn’t you?~

“Midoriya,” A soft voice calls. “Midoriya… Midoriya…”

“Noooo,”

“Midoriya, the kitchen is on fire.”

“WHAT?” Izuku sits straight up, grabbing the fire extinguisher from beside the couch, only to hear laughter. “Shinsou… how dare you scare me like that!” 

“Why do you have a fire extinguisher right next to your bed?” Shinsou’s eyes widen. “Oh my god. Tell me you’ve set the kitchen on fire before.” 

“It wasn’t me, it was Red Bean!” Izuku whines, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “I think she has a minor intelligence Quirk, but I don’t really know what she was trying to accomplish by setting our milk carton on fire. Let me tell you, it’s a weird feeling to wake up to the smell of burning milk.”

“Eugh.” Shinsou wrinkles his nose. “Maybe she just wanted warm milk?” He says, and Izuku turns to him, eyes wide. 

“Holy shit, you’re right.” There’s a beat where they stare at each other, and then Izuku breaks out into laughter-- full, choking, gasping breathy laughter. Soon enough he is joined by Shinsou, and they laugh long enough (you know how it is, when you finally calm yourself down and then stare at your friend and start laughing again) that there are tears coming out of Izuku’s eyes. 

“Are we friends now?” Shinsou asks, offhandedly, and Izuku looks at him, suddenly bashful. 

“I… Are we?” He blinks, and they stare at one another. 

“We’re… really bad at this, Izuku,” Shinsou murmurs, and Izuku giggles before he realizes what’s just happened and turns vermilion.

“I… um… can I call you that? By your first name??” Shinsou stutters out. “I know it’s only been a day, but… uh…” 

“Oh thank god, I thought I was going to slip up and call you Hitoshi first,” Izuku breathes out in a rush, and Shinsou startles. 

“Eh?”

“I feel like I’ve known you for years, Hi...Hitoshi,” Izuku says, and Shinsou laughs a bit disbelievingly. 

“I kind of want to say the same.” They sit for a bit, awkward, before Izuku realizes it’s nearly six and he has to open soon, and he’s still in his pajamas. 

“Shit!” He continues to curse colorfully after the initial one, in English, and Shin--Hitoshi chokes. 

“That was… where did you learn to curse like that?” He sputters out as Izuku grabs a spare t-shirt, some jeans and his apron, moving to go to the bathroom. 

“Wait… you understood that?” Izuku asks, aghast.

“Yes I did,” Hitoshi snickers. “I guess you weren’t the only die-hard Mic fan… is that my apron?” He asks, pointing at a folded square of black labeled with a leaf and the neat ‘Shinsou’ stitched in. 

“Yes! It just got delivered!” Izuku says, because he was unwilling to tell Hitoshi how he’d stitched the badge he made on in the dead of the morning because he couldn’t sleep. 

“Whoa. When are you going to teach me?” Hitoshi asks, and Izuku considers.

“Today I have to go grocery shopping, which I can run out and do when you get home, but I can teach you right after!” And then Izuku has a bright idea. “I’ll teach you about the cafe then, too! And I can introduce you to Tanaka-sensei!” 

“Tanaka-sensei…?” 

“My TaeKwonDo teacher!” Izuku says cheerfully, and maybe watches the light drain out of Hitoshi's eyes. 

“Oh… I’ve never done anything like that…”

“If you’re lucky, she’ll teach you!” Izuku beams, (and Hitoshi trusts his smile. Silly, silly fool).

“Alright. Breakfast?” Hitoshi suggests, and Izuku’s star-swallowing eyes shine. 

“I can teach you how to make crepes!” 

~~~

Fifteen batter-stained minutes later, Izuku is staring in horror at Hitoshi, who is staring in horror at the dripping spatula in his hand. 

“How did the bowl end up on…” They stare down, and Hitoshi speaks with a voice trembling in disbelief. 

“I don’t even know which cat that is anymore,” he says, voice trembling with mirth. 

“It’s… oh my god I can’t tell—" Izuku wheezes, staring down at the cat that’s been painted in yellow crepe batter. At that, both him and Hitoshi dissolve into laughter, gasping and holding their sides. 

“Izuku, it’s in your hair,” Shin— Hitoshi wheezes, and Izuku pats himself in horror. 

“Oh my god… did I just smear it?” 

“Yes,” Hitoshi breathes, nodding vigorously as he holds his sides and shakes with silent laughter. 

(Once again, Izuku wonders how someone could have hurt someone so expressive, someone willing to trust Izuku after one day, but he accepts it now.) 

“We… need showers. And I… oh shit, ” Izuku says, glancing at the clock. “I have to open the shop like now— here, take this!” He shoves one of the savory crepes they had actually managed to make before Hitoshi upturned the batter on the… cat… “Hitoshi,” Izuku whimpers. “The cat.”

They dissolve into hysterical laughter as Izuku hastily ties his hair up into a bun (goodness, when had it gotten so long?) to prepare for the work day. When he runs out of the kitchen, he sees a familiar face staring back at him incredulously. 

“What happened to you, kiddo?” Touya Todoroki asks, looking Izuku up and down. 

“Do I look that much like a mess?!” Izuku wails. “I’m so happy you’re here, Touya-san… I covered the cat in pancake batter, and now I don’t know which one it is, and I have to open the shop in two minutes!” 

“Touya?” Dabi asks carefully, and Izuku freezes, because shit. Right. 

“Quirk, mister. Can’t lie to me.” Izuku taps his head. “But honestly, fuck your last name.” 

Then he cups his hands around his mouth. “Hitoshi, are you almost done?” Touya raises his eyebrows. 

“New resident?” 

“Yep!” Izuku beams, just as Hitoshi skids into the room, taking the glass stairs by two. 

“Hi. Here. Okay. First day of actual class is happening. I—uh. Breakfast, yes, stuff, yes, uniform, yes, tie—“ His eyes widen. 

“—I got that, don’t worry,” Izuku says, giggling, and brandishing the red tie. 

“You are a gift to god, Izuku, I’ve got to run if I want to avoid the explosive dandelion, alright goodbye—" In his haste, Hitoshi doesn’t even question the scarred dude in a hoodie standing next to them. “I’m so sorry about Eraser!” He calls as he runs out. Izuku blinks. 

“Oh, we’ve identified the cat!” He sings out, turning to Touya. “...what?” Izuku asks as he watches the shit-eating smirk spread across his face. 

“You two boning?” 

“Jesus Christ! Touya, why?” Izuku cries out, his good mood utterly destroyed. “No!” 

“Just an innocent question,” Touya says, grinning, and Izuku channels his embarrassment into a close-lipped smile, malice glittering in his eyes. 

“For your first task, go wash the cat.” 

“...what?” Touya pales, and Izuku only smiles wider, eyes crinkling. 

“You’re here for your job, aren’t you? Since you don’t know how to mix drinks yet, you’re going to wash the pancake batter out of Eraser’s fur.”

“You’ve got to be shitting me,” Touya says. “Kid, I can quit.” 

“Please, Touya-san?” Izuku whines, wiping his face down, more genuine then malicious. “You know as well as I do that I have to open now, don’t you?” 

His pouting face turns into a grin as soon as Touya walks by him, heaving a sigh and muttering something along the lines of “the things I do…” 

“The tub is upstairs, I’m trusting you to not rob me, thanks!” He probably shouldn’t be so flippant with his belongings, but the only things he has in there are his Polaris boots and the ball the visor is usually formed from, so. 

He darts out, grabbing a tray of puff pastry he’d baked prior to… well, actually, he has no memory of baking it, now that he thinks about it. If he was sleep-baking he wouldn’t even be surprised. 

“Good morning, Midoriya-kun,” A slightly less-tired-than-usual voice greets from the counter. 

“Tsukauchi-san! How are you?” Izuku isn’t going to mention his eyebags, he isn’t, he isn’t— “You know, I have a friend who has deeper eyebags then you now, so I think you’re quite fortunate! Did you get more sleep tonight?” 

Goddamnit.

“That’s… really not the kind of thing you should be saying to your customers, kid, but I don’t think I can dispute,” Tsukauchi mutters, smiling wanly. 

“The usual?” Izuku asks, in lieu of an answer.

“Yep.” 

“You getting something for All Might this time around?” He asks, opening the dispenser. “Oh. Here or to go?”

“I have a few minutes, I’ll stay here.” 

“Alright then! You’re the first one here today, are you proud?”

“I went to bed at eight o’ clock,” he mumbles, and Izuku tries his best to keep his eyes from widening, he does goddamnit. “Don’t look so surprised. It was my friend’s fault,” he murmurs, and Izuku wonders how tired this man must be on a daily basis. 

“Oi, kid! I finished cleaning your damn cat!” Echoes from upstairs, and Izuku freezes. Tsukauchi raises an eyebrow. 

“May I ask what happened?” Tsukauchi questions, and Izuku’s traitorous mouth opens.

“I spilled pancake batter on Eraser.” He mutters, and Tsukauchi’s eyes bug out. 

“Eraserhead?”

“The cat,” Izuku wails, just as the door opens again to Touya cursing colorfully. Tsukauchi and Izuku look up. 

“You can’t fight me, you little shit, I’m already 80% scar tissue!” There are several loud yowls, and then a sopping wet Eraser runs down the stairs. 

“Touya… Touya why didn’t you dry him,” Izuku wheezes, looking down as Eraser stares up at him with something akin to betrayal. And then Touya stares at Tsukauchi. “Can you go grab a towel? Please? And put on your damn apron,” Izuku says, waving his hand. When he turns back to Tsukauchi, it’s with mirth dancing like firelight in his jaded eyes. “Sorry about that.”

“Who is that?” Tsukauchi asks, eyes curious, perhaps the slightest bit suspicious. 

“Just a part-timer I hired,” Izuku says as he watches their door shut softly, because right, Tsukauchi was a detective. He had to have watched the news of the slime villain getting vaporized. 

“I… recognize him, I think.” 

“You might. He apprehended a villain ages ago… saved a really annoying kid, too,” Izuku says, and Tsukauchi starts, because it must register as true. After all, his Quirk doesn’t apply to just worldly truths-- it is ‘true’ in parallel universes as well. 

(Somewhere, Touya had run to save a blonde kid who’d screamed at him right after. Somewhere.)

“He…”

“You don’t need to worry about him,” Izuku says, flapping his hand absentmindedly.

(Tsukauchi thinks, for all the smiles this child gives him, there is a certain danger that glimmers in the wells of his eyes. Eraserhead, nursing a cup of coffee with the cafe’s logo on it, had told him of the green-haired boy who in an instant had a weapon at his throat, who moved like a cat in its element, smoothe and lithe in the way he held boundless information. He’s told him of his casual talk of knowing Polaris and taking information from them, and how he wondered why a child like that wasn’t going to UA.) 

“As long as he respects everyone in here, I don’t have a problem. That’s my only rule for everyone,” Izuku says, shooting him a grin so bright Tsukauchi squints a bit. 

“I got the towel,” Touya says, and walks by Tsukauchi a bit faster than expected. 

“Thank you Touya, you're a lifesaver~” Izuku intones, and Touya shoots him a Look™. He opens his mouth to say something, perhaps something along the lines of “the things I do,” but he doesn’t get a chance, because in two seconds flat the security shutters are slamming down and Izuku is lunging from behind the counter for Tsukauchi out of pure fear. 

“What’s going--” Tsukauchi is, for lack of a better word, man-handled over the counter, and Izuku yells at Touya. 

“Get over here now! Cattos!” Soon, all the occupants of the cafe are behind the counter, and Izuku taps the forcefield button. There’s a quiet hum, and he sighs in relief. “Sorry about that, Tsukauchi-san, it looks like there’s a villain attack going on…”

“Where?” Tsukauchi asks, as if he’s going to step out there and do something. 

“Right in front of the damn cafe,” Izuku growls, and two taps of his still-unactivated bracelet bring him directly into the police channels. Tsukauchi’s eyes widen and he stares at Izuku with something akin to betrayal, while Touya looks around, a now-complacent Eraser in his hands.  

“Sansa reporting in, dispatch squad E-96, high-temp villain… Miruko is on the scene, I repeat, Miruko is on the scene.” 

"Awesome. Let's hope this place doesn't get smashed up in the meantime."

“Why do you have that broadcast?” Tsukauchi hisses, and Izuku grins remorselessly. 

“Polaris hooked me up,” he says, and well, that’s not wrong , per se. There’s a muted boom outside, and Izuku winces. “It should hold up, but--”

“HOLD! DO NOT STEP ANY CLOSER!” A bellowing voice booms from right outside the door. “I WILL DESTROY THIS BUILDING IF YOU DO!” 

Izuku freezes. 

“Is he talking about here?” Touya asks in a muted whisper. 

“Hm.” Izuku presses a button, and the door shutter tentatively slides up, only to show the back of a flaming villain nearly pressed against the forcefield. A small, sadistic part of Izuku wants to watch him hit the forcefield, but he has larger things to worry about. 

“I’m sorry, Midoriya-kun,” Tsukauchi says, and Izuku turns to look at him. 

“What for?” 

“The state your cafe might be in once this battle finishes…”

Izuku turns to him and smiles. "Oh, no, that's alright! It'll be fine." Tsukauchi-san stares at him, a bit perplexed. 

“Uh… what is that, kiddo?” Touya asks, looking outside through the glass door. 

“Favor I called in,” Izuku says shortly, and eyeballs the villain. “Okay.” He turns to Tsukauchi and deposits Red Bean in his lap. “Don’t leave the cafe no matter what, you hear me? The forcefield will throw you back unless you happen to have my genetic makeup.” 

“And where are you going, kiddo?” Touya asks, but there’s a measure of worry in his eyes. 

“Nowhere,” Izuku says flatly, and walks up to the front door, a little ding in Tsukauchi’s head no doubt letting him know of the lie. 

(Only then does Tsukauchi see the fire extinguisher.)

“Kid? Kid?!” Touya says, as Izuku unlocks the door, steps outside. 

“Alright, Izuku,” He murmurs from behind the humming purple energy field. It seems to be holding up fairly well, despite all of the kinetic energy it’s built up from various pieces of melted shrapnel. “It’s not Endeavor, it’s just regular old fire.” He watches Miruko fight a ball of flames, and detachedly wonders why no other heroes have shown up. Maybe they don’t think they’re equipped to deal with the situation. 

“Here goes nothing,” He mutters as the villain shoots a jet of flame that bounces off the forcefield. 

~~~

[A blurry video is shown; it’s clearly being taken from a road somewhere. There’s a purple energy field humming over a cafe with a sign that you can nearly read as ‘Viridian’, and Miruko the Pro Hero and Fireball, the wanted villain, are having a showdown. The footage is shaky, but the recorder seems to be alright.]

“Dude, what is that?” 

[Someone is yelling off-screen-- police are wheeling yellow tape across the fight-scene.]

“Dude, dude-- is someone coming out?” 

[The camera zooms in, and someone is indeed walking out of the purple forcefield.]

“That thing just absorbed the flames earlier! Is-- wait, isn’t that one of the baristas?” 

“Wait, is that the Viridian?” [Someone else asks off-screen, and there are some horrified affirmations.]

“That’s Midoriya-kun!” 

“The hell is he doing?” 

[All that’s visible is a head of green hair, and then all of a sudden an entire kid materializes from the purple. The villain looks over.]

“Ahaha, a hostage—" 

[The villain tries to grab at him, but the kid merely squeezes the nozzle on the fire extinguisher and blasts the villain.]

“HOLY SHIT—"

“Are you getting this? Are you seeing this?” 

[The crowd is in an uproar as the boy empties the entire canister into the villain’s face. Miruko, after a moment of hesitation, goes to cuff the villain with a roar and a sharp grin.]

“Why— what the fuck, man?” 

“We don’t condone property damage here,” the kid intones, flatly. 

[The villain lunges forward, Miruko coming up to meet him with a fierce grin. The boy’s eyes widen, he neatly sidesteps and as soon as the villain hits the purple barrier, he flies across the street to make an imprint in the restaurant across the way. Miruko manages to slam a kick in his stomach as he goes flying by, and the audience collectively flinches as one.] 

“DUDE, WHAT WAS THAT?” 

[The camera zooms out again, and the last image shown is of the green-haired boy pinching the bridge of his nose in barely-repressed irritation, empty extinguisher, black apron and all.]

~~~

miruko vs. fireball (feat. Viridian Cafe barista): on-scene footage!! (link leads to outside source) 

2.7 K views 

1.4 K hearts

smolmight: Oh my god. Guys, look at his face at the end. Look at it. He’s so done. 

Mirukostan43: she was doing so great and then the barista showed up and took out a building QAQ 

AllMightForever: GUYS. I KNOW THIS GUY. 

Purplestar228: @AllMightForever explain????

AllMightForever: @Purplestar228 Ok so,,, he works as a barista at the Viridian cafe??? And if you guys haven’t been it’s AMAZING— this kid is there like,,, all the time and the coffee is really good and he makes,,, like,,, American pastries??? Plus there are five cats and they all have ridiculous names 

Cheddarcheeseburger: @AllMightForever ok continue— why did this guy come at a villain with a FIRE EXTINGUISHER

AllMightForever: I’m kind of a regular at the cafe he works at, so I overhear him talking sometimes, and he’s?? Really smart?? So he probably just went for it i think he has an analysis Quirk

OhMyChickenWing: @AllMightForever don’t kids his age usually have school right now? 

EightytwoOh: @AllMightForever WAIT IS THIS THE GUY FROM THE #GREENALLOVER TAG? 

AllMightForever: @EightytwoOh: Omg— yes, he is!!!!! I didn’t realize there were so many posts omg 

Four more responses… (load?)

~~~

(Hitoshi likes to think he’s a pretty rational person. He’s really only known his class for two days, but Uraraka has been content to talk with him since he saved her in the entrance exams, and Iida is… well, Iida. The rest of the class… well, there’s the blonde asshole, and then the other blonde idiot, who seems kind of chill. And Todoroki, who is literally chill. He doesn’t know anyone else though, not very well. That’s why he’s so surprised when the blonde haired dude-- Kaminari, he thinks?-- calls everyone over. 

“Guys, look! Someone just live streamed this-- this kid is insane! All of you, come over here!” Soon, the entirety of class 1-A is crowded over Kaminari’s phone, and Aizawa-sensei doesn’t seem to mind, so. Hitoshi supposes it’s fine. He could be asleep, for all they know.

“What’s going on?! I can’t see!” Mina whines from somewhere behind Shouji-- that’s his name, right?-- and Hitoshi shifts over slightly so he can squint. 

“Do any of you know where the Viridian cafe is?” Kaminari asks, jiggling his leg. 

“Hold it still! And I was there… Once, I think,” Mina says, pouting, after having secured a place to watch over Asui-- Tsuyu, sorry-- Tsuyu’s head. Hitoshi stiffens. 

“Haaah? Why would we care?” Bakugou Katsuki’s raspy voice echoes above everyone else.

“There’s this really cute barista who's always there when I go in--” Kaminari starts, and Hitoshi is reeling doubly from the variety of implications-- “And he just took out a villain with a fire extinguisher!” 

“He what.” Hitoshi growls, and it apparently was louder then he had intended, because now people are staring at him. He tries his best to look polite when he asks to see the livestream, and class 1-A as a collective entity watches his face travel through a myriad of emotions. “Are you fucking--” Mina’s eyes glitter as she senses gossip, Hagakure leans over in an attempt to see what Hitoshi is doing now, and Hitoshi picks up his phone.

Two rings, and 1-A falls silent, questioning what is going on. 

“You know him?” The red-head asks, shark-teeth shining. “He was so manly…”

Hitoshi puts the call on speaker, unaware of the fact that 1-A is now staring at him as intently as they had been staring at the livestream. 

“Hello, Viridan Cafe, how may I--”

“Izuku.” Hitoshi growls out, and several UA students blink. 

“Ah, hi, Hitocchan! Never would have guessed--” 

“Please tell me I didn’t just watch your tiny, green-bean ass fucking extinguish a villain in front of the cafe.”

A pause. More than half of 1-A is staring at him open-mouthed now, and Hitoshi thinks he sees Aizawa-sensei looking up, which is mildly strange. 

“Hitoshi! He was going to burn the cafe! Our little plants! Eraserhead! I had just gotten the pancake batter out of his hair, and he was still sopping wet!” 

“Izuku. I left the house… ah, three hours ago. Why did you just wash the cat?” Hitoshi asks, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“I had to open the cafe, what was I supposed to do?”

“You have a cat named Eraserhead?” Mina screeches. 

“...Hitoshi, please tell me I’m not on speaker right now.” 

“Uh… Right. I didn’t think this through.” 

“Awesome! Hi, 1-A! Hi, Eraserhead! Oh, Polaris was being a bitch and dropped off some more info, come by whenever!”

“You know Polaris? The vigilante?? ” Jirou bursts out, and phone-Izuku’s giggles come out a bit distorted. 

“Not who you’re thinking of, they’re new to being illegal. Kind of a copycat of the original Polaris. They’re… kind of a little shit. And maybe a bad influence on me.” 

“Yeah, mister I run outside at villains,” Hitoshi mutters. 

“Sorry, sorry! I wasn’t expecting him to run into the forcefield, and Detective Tsukauchi is still inside--” The phone is taken from Hitoshi’s hands, and he’s about to squawk out a disagreement when he realizes it’s Aizawa-sensei who has taken it. 

“Is he alright?” He asks with a mounting ferocity. 

“He’s fine, he’s fine! They’re all okay, the force field held up. I maybe made him a bit late to work, though. At least he can… er, take my statement? Oh no, does this count as vigilantism? Polaris is already doing as much as it is… self-defense? I mean, he would have burned me to ash if the force field wasn’t there, so it does technically count, right?” Izuku slowly devolves into muttering, and Aizawa-sensei sighs. 

“Oh dear, I’ve got to go reopen the cafe! Give everyone else my love! Including Todoroki! Mwah!” Izuku hangs up and Hitoshi stares at the ceiling, praying. Deadpan, he sighs and looks at Todoroki, their resident ice queen. 

“You hear that? He says he loves you. How he even knows of your existence is vaguely terrifying to ponder.”

“You know the Viridian cafe barista?” Aizawa-sensei asks, and 1-A now turns to stare at him. 

“I… yeah. Yes, I do,” Hitoshi says, trying to play it off because holy shit the only time Aizawa-sensei had talked to him was yesterday during the ball throw when he’d brainwashed Bakugou into hitting it as far as his explosions would allow. 

“Am I going to have to assess your combat skill later?” Aizawa asks, deadpan, and Hitoshi gapes at him. 

“...What did Izuku do?” He asks, horrified. Aizawa flaps his hand. 

“Never mind, Problem Child. Wait here for All Might, I’m going to take a nap.” Hitoshi watches as Eraserhead crawls back into his sleeping bag. The livestream ends, abstract noises coming out of the tinny speaker, and then the entirety of class 1-A bombards him with questions at once.)

~~~

“You did it!” Izuku cheers as Touya stares down at his first complete latte. “I knew you could!” 

“I… did, didn’t I?” He says with a grin, and then downs the drink like a shot. 

“No!” Izuku hisses, aghast. “You have to enjoy the coffee! How dare you! Consume it! That way!” He punctuated each word with a hit to Touya’s arm. 

“I can’t even feel that, kid,” Touya says, laughing. Izuku stops, stricken, and looks at the scar tissue on the top of Touya’s hands. “It’s fine, kiddo.”

“What happened?” Izuku asks, because the street is still roped off and no one is inside, Tsukauchi having taken their statements a long while ago. 

“What exactly is your Quirk, kid?” Izuku gulps, and his blood freezes. 

(What does he say? Truth be told, he doesn’t know. He doesn’t know, he tried to save Mom and he failed, and everyone is still dying, and Touya is hurt, so what does he say?)

His mouth opens unbidden. “I can't tell you,” He blurts, which isn’t… wrong, per se. He still feels horrible saying it. He looks up and sees Touya's brows furrow.  

“Huh?”

“I can't tell you," he repeats, in a whisper. "Hitoshi already asked, and I gave him a bogus answer, which is bad enough already, and Tsukauchi tried too, and I just..." his eyes fill with tears. "If I tell you, you'll be in danger, just like..." Just like his mother. Just like him. He'd seen the threads, and they'd laughed when he'd thrown up and cried at the futures he'd seen. 

Touya stares at him, blue eyes burning holes in his face. Izuku feels tears prickle at his eyes.

"Alright," the man finally says, and Izuku is left to blink, stunned. He looks back up to see Touya looking away, rubbing absentmindedly at his scarred chin. 

(He doesn’t ask why Izuku doesn’t want to be a hero, even though he’s heard Izuku’s rants and fanboy mutterings tenfold, realizes Izuku’s ambition to save. To some extent, he understands that Izuku won’t be one, and that’s enough for him. Izuku will forever be grateful for that fact, that simple acceptance.) 

“Thank you,” Izuku says with a dry whisper, and then tries to look innocent as he focuses on Touya’s eyes, not his scars. They work in silence, and suddenly it seems too hot. 

“My father… is a very ambitious man." Touya suddenly says, and Izuku has a half-second to realize he's telling Izuku about his Quirk, trusting him despite the fact that izuku hadn't told him about what he'd done, and-- and he's touched, and ready to cry, maybe, but Touya keeps talking so he reigns in how soft he feels at this display of trust and listens.

"I’m the first kid out of four, and he was all about heroics. My body is equipped to handle super-cooled temperatures, but my Quirk…” He lets the blue flames dance across his hands. “It's very hot. Hotter than hot. It burns me, when it’s not in my hands.” 

He chuckles slowly, a glint of malice in his eyes. “But dear old dad didn’t let that stop him. He trained me to my breaking point, and then threw me away when my littlest brother developed the perfect Quirk. And then… my mother… had a breakdown, because of him. I got angry, my flames went everywhere, and… well, here I am, kid.” Izuku stares at him, and hisses in a harsh breath. That shouldn't have happened. 

(Could he have prevented it?)

“God.” He stares for a moment, not all there, as the threads in the back of his head realign, show themselves to him. “Is it hard to move like that?” 

“A bit, yeah. Don’t really feel things anymore. Along the edges is hell, especially when it tears.” Touya rubs his neck absently. “I ran away from home, dyed my hair, got piercings. Looked like a delinquent.” He laughs. “Unfortunately, people didn’t like me looking like this; couldn’t find a job, couldn’t stand heroes. So here I am,” He says, spreading his arms. “The only thing I wish I could do is change my eye color-- it looks just like my Dad’s.” Izuku turns and examines his face, every micro-detail, and scowls. 

“You don’t look like Endeavor at all, Touya. Don’t give me that bullshit.” Touya’s eyes widened. 

“His eyes are flat, expressionless, and washed out. Hating everything’s given him a resting bitch face,” Izuku ticks off, and Touya chokes on a laugh, “He’s got the stupid-ass fire beard, and his jawline looks like it’s been used to kill defenseless animals.” Then he looks at Touya. “You, my friend, despite the red hair and blue eyes, are completely different. You... “ Izuku stops, breathes in though it hurts, because now he can see-- “You look like Rei-san,” He says quietly, and Touya’s eyes widen. 

He opens his mouth, about to say something, perhaps about to ask Izuku more difficult questions, like how or why, but Izuku cuts him off. “Plus you don’t compulsively commit genocide, so I think you’re pretty okay.” Touya bursts out into more then slightly hysterical laughter at that, and then lapses into silence. Izuku supposes he's afraid to bring up Rei, but he's glad for it.

They silently watch as Izuku assembles a drink, wordless expressions conveying how much tapioca you should put in a drink, and what the difference between a fruit bubble tea and a milk bubble tea is. 

Or, well, Izuku hopes he conveys that. He’s not totally sure. 

“Thanks, Midoriya,” Touya says after a while, and Izuku starts, because has he ever called him by name before? He can’t remember. 

“That’s sir to you,” he says loftily, before bursting into laughter. Touya huffs, and then begins haughtily making his own bubble tea, but adds too much milk, spilling over the sides. 

“Shit.”

“You know, if the scars bother you, I know a few people,” Izuku says quietly after a pause. 

“Who says they bother me?” Touya says defensively, and well shit, Izuku needs to back up. 

“I’m not saying they do! But since you’re a convicted shoplifter, for instance, or viewed as a delinquent, we could get skin grafts…” Izuku says awkwardly. 

“I don’t have the money for that, kid,” Touya says, a touch irritably. 

“I do, though,” Izuku says cheekily. “Worker’s perks?” 

“You’re unbelievable, kid,” He says, laughing a bit. “Did I do this right?”

“Why don’t you try to drink it?”

“I just chugged the coffee and I can’t feel my tongue.”

“Touya.” 

(Someday, the threads whisper, someday Izuku will regret not prying more, but he will never regret offering. Someday, Touya will call, trembling and broken, and Izuku will come running with a promise, after a shouting match he’ll come to hate himself for participating in. That, however, is neither here nor there.)

~~~

“Hiya, Hito-chan! How was school--oomph!” 

“You’re an absolute idiot, you know that?” 

“Ouch! Thanks, though, I know!”

“You’re also trending on Twitter.”

“...What?” 

“Oh, and I beat the shit out of two kids in my class in battle training today, which was supervised by All Might. Quite poorly, I might add, since this blonde asshole almost killed me--”

“Is this your boyfriend, kid?” Touya has perfect timing, as always. Izuku rolls his eyes as the back of Hitoshi’s neck reddens, but otherwise they show no outward reaction. 

“Did Todoroki get my message?” Izuku asks. 

“Yes. He did not know who you were.”

“Understandable.”

“He’s very pretty,” Hitoshi says, sighing, and both of the other two squawk, for utterly different reasons. 

“Pretty?!”

“If you leave me for him, you’re never going to see the cattos again.” 

“How dare you! Bold of you to assume I’m not taking the cats with me when we go on a whirlwind romance plot.” 

“You have only been here for like two days, so help me god--”

“Wait, who are you?” Hitoshi rudely interrupts Izuku’s tirade to look over Izuku’s shoulder. 

“Oh! That’s Touya Todoroki, he’s the older brother of Shouto.”

“Shouto?!”

“Shouto,” Hitoshi says faintly. 

“Anyways, Touya is working here part-time so he doesn’t end up accidentally becoming Wanted, and he’s the one who cleaned Eraser up, so he’s good in my book.” 

It’s almost not funny how quickly the suspicion disappears from Hitoshi’s eyes after that. 

“Eugh, you’ve got the burning trash for a father too?” He says, wrinkling his nose, and Touya barks out a startled laugh. Izuku nods at Hitoshi, mildly impressed-- they hadn’t even discussed Endeavor’s merits or persona, just his personal (euch, that made it sound more nasty) ties to Izuku, and Hitoshi was already the textbook-definition of disgusted. 

“I disavowed him ages ago, don’t worry about that.”

“And eventually, we’ll free Shouto too!” Izuku crows. “I just need to collect substantial evidence of domestic abuse first.” 

(Touya decides he won’t wonder why it sounds like Izuku already has evidence for other convictions.)

“Right there with ya,” Hitoshi drawls, and goes over to the stairs, fishing out Izuku’s spare keys. 

“Oh! Hitoshi, do you think you can feed the cats? We’re going to Tanaka-sensei later, anyway! And I want to show you the ropes before we have to close up!” 

“Sure,” Hitoshi calls back, and as if that’s the magic word, the cats all follow one by one. 

“Sheesh, you guys act like an old married couple,” Touya remarks, and Izuku tries his darndest not to blush. 

“Touya, no.” And then there’s a bit of silence. 

“So, why’d you get me alone yet again?” He asks, smirking. 

“Just… here, I’m going to give you my number, can I have yours?”

“Oh? I’m not into younger guys,” Touya drawls, and only snickers when Izuku punches him in the arm harder this time. He takes out his phone regardless, and Izuku resists the urge to raise his eyebrows when he realizes it’s one of the untraceables, and then proceeds to make a fool of himself. 

“Here!” Izuku says, before gasping. “...That’s the wrong one, sorry!” As if he hasn’t just totally exposed his own burner phone, the one he uses to call in favors as Polaris. 

Touya raises his eyebrows, which moves all of his scars, and man Izuku should not be laughing so hard at his eye-bag scars but he is, sue him. “You’re not the only one with secrets,” he chides, and passes over the correct phone. Once they’re done, Touya checks the time and curses quietly. 

“I’ve got to go,” He says, and Izuku doesn’t question what a delinquent-looking dude with no job minus the one he’s at has to go do, even if he is curious. 

“Alright! Here, let me grab your wages,” Izuku says, and pulls out a handful of yen notes without looking at them and passes them over. Touya’s eyes don’t… bug out, per se, but he does look a bit surprised. 

“Kid, this is a lot,” He says uncertainly, and Izuku shrugs.

“Problem?” 

“...Nah.” He turns to leave, and Izuku hums as he downs the bubble tea he’d made prior, bending over to refill the machine that stuck the tops onto the teas. 

“Hey, kid?” Touya’s voice carries, and Izuku slams his head on the underside of the counter in his attempt to get up. 

“Youch! Yes?” He fully straightens, just in time to catch a strange expression flitting across Touya’s face. 

“I know I asked this already, but why do you hate Endeavor so much? Is it… is it personal?” Touya looks hesitant, and Izuku cringes, because he’d been trying so hard not to think about it, almost succeeding, but Touya’s told him more about his life then he had to. So Izuku is willing to settle. 

“Yes, it is.” Izuku takes a moment to collect himself, rubbing the back of his head. “Touya-san… there’s a reason I run this coffee shop by myself now.” He turns and looks Touya in the eye-- (And Touya thinks this might be the coldest he’s ever seen those secret-filled eyes be, all sharp edges and mirthless laughter--) and sighs. 

“And that reason is Endeavor’s fault.” For a moment, Touya’s eyes fill with guilt, which Izuku doesn’t understand, maybe it’s about prying-- but then he turns back. 

“Thanks, kiddo.” 

(Hitoshi sits, listening, by the doorway. He thinks back to the shrine and grits his teeth, because Izuku woke up screaming yesterday, and yet he still cried quietly.

Only people who know they're alone and beyond help cry quietly.)

~~~

“Hiya, Tanaka-sensei!” Izuku calls out cheerfully into the empty gym, and then whips towards Hitoshi's direction. “Duck,” he whispers, and Hitoshi scarcely has enough time to comply before he feels something stir from behind him.

“Oh come on, squirt, I was gonna ambush ‘im!” A loud and borderline abrasive voice comes from behind him, and Hitoshi spins around, wide-eyed. 

“Sensei, he probably would have had a heart attack,” Izuku says, chuckling. 

“Bah! Y’all’re too young to be having heart attacks.”

“With your Quirk? You’d be surprised,” Izuku snarks, and Hitoshi winces. Is this how he talks to authority figures? 

“You-- you green bean,” The lady sputters, and Izuku gasps.

In two seconds flat, they’re rolling around on the foam mats. Hitoshi stares as they begin brawling in earnest, because since when was Izuku so strong? Hitoshi’s hair waves a bit in the breezes of their descending kicks and blows, and casually edges back towards the door. 

As one, they both stop and stare at him. The woman is stocky, silver-haired and has a strange dialect, as well as a curious scar on her cheek-- a gash too cylindrical to be just a cut. 

“You don’t get to leave,” Izuku says, with a grin that’s a touch too sharp. 

“You are a sadist,” Hitoshi announces loudly. 

“Yer mixin’ us up, sweetheart,” Tanaka-sensei says, pointing at herself. “This is the kid I have to get into shape?” She asks Izuku, a single brow raised. 

“Yep!” He says, with his typical blinding charm. 

“Shit, kid. Forget green-bean, he’s like a stick.” In two seconds flat, Hitoshi finds himself on the ground, breath knocked out of him. “So light.” 

“A sadist,” Hitoshi gasps out, staring up at the two fo them. 

“You agreed to this, Hitoshi!” Izuku says. 

“Besides, the saying is that birds of a feather flock together, dontcha know?” The woman says, and Hitoshi slowly, deeply, begins to regret ever agreeing to train with Midoriya Izuku. 

TO BE CONTINUED…

Chapter Text

~Seriously though, Polaris needs to buy more lip balm.~

“I am sore everywhere,” Hitoshi greets Izuku the next morning. 

“Wasn’t it awesome though?” Izuku asks, springing up from where he’d 'slept' amply in a pile of blankets at the foot of Hitoshi's (Mom’s… don’t think about it.) bed. Well, he said slept, but... er. Izuku hadn't really slept. As soon as Hitoshi had started snoring from the bed nearby, Izuku had picked himself up and padded into the lounge, where he, as always, researched. 

“No. You’re a monster and a masochist,” Hitoshi groans. 

“Kinky,” Izuku giggles, and Hitoshi smacks him. 

“No. Bad.” 

“Um… breakfast?” Izuku asks. “I can… bake. Or make eggs.” Hitoshi quirks an eyebrow at him. 

“Do you mean to tell me you don’t know how to make food?” 

“...I can only make egg-based foods,” Izuku admits sheepishly. “That’s why your lunch was omurice… I can’t really cook, plus Lunch Rush is there… who I completely forgot about… oh dear.” 

“Well neither can I, bitch,” Hitoshi deadpans, and Izuku snorts. 

“We livin’ off takeout and ramen for days, Hitoshi,” Izuku says. 

“Right. Was you calling me Hito-chan cosmic punishment or something?” Izuku smirks at the blush on Hitoshi’s ears, two high spots on his cheeks. 

“It was a logical ruse!” Izuku says, imitating Eraserhead's grin quite well, if he may add. Hitoshi chokes on the air and makes a funny squeak. 

(And really, he never stops to question why Izuku knew that face at all.) 

“But actually I just wanted you to seem more approachable, and I saw that it was on speaker~” Izuku hums, and Hitoshi groans.

“Screw you, you fricking frick.” 

“Maybe another time,” Izuku says, flashing a wink, and well damn if he can get Hitoshi this red all the time he should always bring out his sass! 

“Alright… Izu-chan,” Hitoshi says slyly, and Izuku stumbles in his attempt to untangle himself from the blankets, tripping and falling flat on his face. Hitoshi cackles as he feels his face burn. 

“No. Veto. Bad,” Izuku mutters into the carpet, flailing.

“Do the worm, Izuku.” 

“Help!” 

“Do it.”

“I refuse!”

“Then succumb!!” Hitoshi screeches like an angry velociraptor, and Izuku finishes off his morning routine laughing until his stomach hurts and tears come out of his eyes. 

~~~

“Can I walk with you to UA?” Izuku asks, as Hitoshi scolds Midnight for knocking over the food bowls. Hitoshi fumbles a bowl and looks at Izuku, wide-eyed. 

“Why?” 

“Uh… if you don’t want me there, that’s fine…”

“Why would you want to?” Hitoshi says, and Izuku wonders why he sounds so frantic. 

“I mean, if you don’t want me there you can just be upfront about it, you know…” Izuku pouts. He had thought they were getting along pretty well, but Izuku’s never really been that good at judging relationships anyway—

“Why would you want to walk with me?” Hitoshi asks, mystified. 

Because Izuku is a functioning member of society, rather than assure Hitoshi that he is appreciated, he merely cocks his head to the side like a bird and blinks. 

“I mean… who else would I walk with?” 

“I… you aren’t wrong, I guess,” Hitoshi says, and they regard each other, confused, before Izuku bursts into nervous giggles. 

“Okay! I can get Touya to cover for the morning. Maybe. Shit, let me call.” Hitoshi rolls his eyes and Izuku sticks his tongue out. 

“Can I steal a…” He squints at what is in the display rack, and then stares at the back of Izuku’s head. “Come to think of it, when did you make these?” 

“I don’t sleep,” Izuku hisses. “I am a creature of the night.” 

“How are you even alive?”

“Caffeine and a fair share of spite.” 

“...kid?” Touya’s raspy voice filters through the phone speaker. 

“Could you cover the morning shift today?” Izuku asks brightly, and Touya snorts. 

“Look outside, kid.” 

Izuku sticks his head out the window and grins when he sees Touya’s familiar silhouette. “Awesome!” 

“Hmm?” Hitoshi joins him in staring, and then squints. “Where did you find this guy?”

“Oh, he just ambled in one day,” Izuku says offhandedly, hanging up and clicking the security shutter off. They roll up, and Touya raises one hand. 

“Do you know how to cook?” Hitoshi asks, when Touya walks in. 

“Eh?” 

“We… don’t know how to cook,” Izuku says. “Do you?” Touya scoffs. 

“A little. A few things, I guess.”

“Whoa! We should trade off occasionally then!” Izuku says, beaming. “I teach you baking, you teach me cooking!” 

“Most of it is easy,” Touya says, muttering. “Wait-- when do you even eat lunch, kid?” 

“I don’t!” Hitoshi and Touya both shoot him looks, aghast. “I eat a big breakfast and a big dinner, but lunch is mostly snacks when I can…” He pouts. “What?”

“No wonder you’re such a small green bean,” Touya sighs. 

“Hey!”

“And you should see him in combat. He burns off all the calories he eats,” Hitoshi says, shaking his head. 

“How high-maintenance.”

“Oh come on, you two!” 

~~~

“Got everything?” Izuku asks, as Hitoshi loops the tie around his neck and Touya grumbles with the ribbons on his apron. 

“Yeah!”

“Kid… what am I supposed to do if they want one of those fancy drinks you make?” Touya asks, a flash of worry in his eyes. Awe, he wants to do his job well-- and he had an Illusion Quirk cast over him?! 

"Touya, where are your scars?" Izuku says, blinking in surprise. Hitoshi looks up, confused. 

"I called the one lady's number... the one you gave me? They still kind of appear, but it's not so bad people will freak when they see me," Touya mutters, and Izuku smiles softly. 

"People wouldn't freak at you! It's just because you're wanted for vigilantism, I promise." 

"What." Comes from Hitoshi. Irrelevant. 

“Anyways, to answer your question-- just say you don’t have the necessary supplies and give them one of those coupons,” Izuku says, proudly gesturing at the little squares he’d made exactly a day prior. He was proud of himself for having come up with the strategy in advance. “And I won’t be that long! Don’t worry,” He says with a grin. “Ready, Hito-chan?” 

“Yeap,” He says, shouldering his backpack. 

“Uwaaa! I get to see UA up close! So exciting!” Izuku says, trying to mask the sweat collecting on his forehead as excitement and not utter terror at being found out. 

“We’re off,” Hitoshi calls out, and then pauses a bit, frozen in his step, as if he hadn’t expected to say that. Izuku wants to feel the same way, because there hasn’t been anyone but the cats for so long that it feel strange to--

“See you later,” Touya says dryly, and then everyone pauses, stutters for a half-second when the three misfits realize what has just happened, that they finally have people to say something to. 

Hitoshi leaves with his ears burning, and Izuku with his head tucked down. Touya keeps a straight face for a bit, but when he goes to flick the open sign on, there’s a gentle smile he doesn’t even notice, one that graces his features like the sun. 

Hitoshi and Izuku have matching smiles, though they don’t know it. 

~~~

@AllMightAlways909 made a post!

. . . It looks like Viridian has a new barista! He seemed kinda scary at first, but watching him wrangle #theerasercat is kind of hilarious. I think he’s a trainee?

~~~

“So how has class been, exactly?” Izuku asks, scampering beside Hitoshi as they walk, morning sun easing the shiver of cold in his hands. 

At first, Hitoshi doesn’t say anything, and Izuku worries he’s struck a sensitive topic, but then he turns, stars in his eyes, and grins wide and true. 

“It’s been amazing,” He says, and Izuku squeals.

“Are you guys really being taught by All Might?”

“Yes!” Hitoshi says. “And I can’t believe it, but Eraserhead! Is! The! Homeroom! Teacher!” And then there’s a frown. “But some kids still don’t know who he is, which I find kind of ridiculous.” 

“Totally! Have you had any classes with them that were like… hands on?” 

“We had battle training with All Might, but… if I’m being honest, it was more like an evaluation then anything. We were playing heroes and villains, essentially, and the heroes had to find a nuclear bomb, the villains defend it…” Hitoshi smirks. “I wasn’t the villain, for once. I was up against Iida Tenya and Katsuki Bakugo…” Hitoshi frowns at the quiet way Izuku falters. “What?”

“I know Iida-kun! He’s awesome, but K--Bakugo...” He winces. “Is rather explosive.”

Hitoshi doesn’t question how Izuku knows him, but he knows it will come up eventually. 

“Agreed. I actually managed to brainwash him, which was freaking awesome.” Hitoshi smiles a bit, rubbing the back of his neck, and Izuku beams. They’d talked about his Quirk a day prior, bundled up in blankets and unable to sleep. 

(Izuku wasn’t the only one who had nightmares.) 

Izuku had avoided giving Hitoshi an explanation of his own Quirk, which he knew was ridiculously hypocritical, but he… just needed some time. And Hitoshi needed someone to support him anyway, so it worked out nicely. 

“Iida must have been gobsmacked!” Izuku already had Iida pinned for the type of righteous dramatics, and could imagine the effort he’d put into giving the role of the villain his all. 

“He totally was,” Hitoshi says, snickering. “And Uraraka-san was amazing too, she got the drop on Iida, but I made Bakugo activate his own Quirk at the ceiling--"

“Gwah! Doesn’t that break your own hold over him, though?”

“Yeah, but by that time Uraraka-san already had the bomb! She had this crazy move, and--”

“--wow!”

“And Tsuyu-chan, she’s the one I told you about, she--”

They spend the rest of the walk to UA chatting animatedly about Shinsou’s first few days at UA-- the staff, the students, and even Lunch Rush’s food (“I’ll bring back some katsudon for you, if I can, if that’s what you like.”)

“Eh! We’re here already?” Izuku blinks as he looks up at the huge building. Hitoshi starts, abruptly cutting off his latest spiel about Eraserhead's capture weapon and how it looks in action. “Are there usually this many people here, Hito-chan?” 

“...No,” Hitoshi says, looking around, faintly uncomfortable. “I wonder why…”

“I’m not sure if I’m okay with this…” Izuku murmurs as reporters begin to close around them. Abruptly, there’s a microphone thrust in his face, and Izuku has to actively suppress the urge to bat them away, lest he break them by accident. “Come on, Hitoshi…” He murmurs, grabbing his hand and trying to wade through the reporters, who are slowly but surely realizing there’s a UA student walking amidst them. 

“Excuse me! Could we get commentary?”

“How is it, being taught by All Might?!”

“Can you tell us what the number one is like as a teacher?” 

“Please—"

“Just a short comment—"

“—worth your time—"

“How—"

“Who—"

“Hitoshi?” Izuku whispers, looking up at his friend’s considerably pale face.

“I don’t like this,” Hitoshi mutters, looking sick to his stomach. 

(Izuku doesn't need the threads to remember crowded hallways, jeering faces, Kacchan stop, please, no--)

“We’re almost there, don’t worry,” Izuku says, something like fury bubbling in his stomach. 

“Can you get them to stop?” His shoulders hunched over, and his eyes are nearly shut, and Izuku wants to scream because all the happiness that had crinkled his eyes is gone now, and it’s the reporters’ faults. 

One microphone is shoved too far, smacking him in the jaw, and another makes one of the cameramen stumble. There’s another student, stranded on the other side, trembling and frantically signing in JSL that they don’t want to, they’ll be late to school, please—

“Hey.” Izuku says, quietly at first. The reporters shove and fuss even more, and he feels the fragile patience in him snap. “Hey!” 

Another reporter stumbles, and another student falls, blonde with a shock of brown hair. Izuku growls when someone jostles him, and the kid yells out in pain when his arm is stepped on. At that, Izuku realizes he’s going to have to do something. 

“HEY!” He roars, and the clamor quiets a bit, eyes turning to him and Hitoshi next to him, like sharks smelling blood. 

“Are you—”

“Don’t you dare,” Izuku hisses, and the one brave reporter squeaks into silence. 

He doesn’t notice it, but his eyes are glowing, and malice is flowing off of him in waves.

(One day, he will face a serial killer who tried to play god, and he will feel the same malice reflected upon him. 

The aura Izuku himself will give off in return will make even the pros falter. 

But that is neither here nor there.)

He walks through the crowd, keeping Hitoshi held firmly by the wrist, and finds the kid with the blocky features, and the blonde guy on the ground. 

“Uuuugh. Thanks, dude. That was scary.”

“Are you open to commentary?” A woman asks, and she’s nice enough about it that he can find his voice again, but when he looks in her eyes, sees the hunger there, he finally loses his temper.

“Are you kidding me?!” He cries out into the crowd, yanking the blonde boy upwards in one fluid movement. “This is how you treat UA students? This is how you get answers?” He roars, and slowly moves backwards with the two kids he’s found, Hitoshi keeping an iron grip on his shoulder. 

He stops, stands up straight, notes how the crowd is watching him, and stays still. “Do you really think,” he drawls, trying to mimic the deadened tones of Eraserhead, “that trampling on kids is going to get you fame?” The reporter ‘eep’s, but Izuku is too angry to stop now. “UA has safety measures against you. If you want to get answers, do it legally.” He smiles, a close-lipped thing that’s sharp as a blade, and turns on his heel, pulling the students with him, hoping, praying-- 

They’re almost to what Izuku thinks is the UA barrier when another loud voice interrupts. 

“What about this isn’t legal? We can get answers any way we want.”

“Yeah, screw you, kid!” Izuku motions for the students and Hitoshi to go a few steps more, and then he whips his head around, rage making bile creep up his throat. 

“Oh? Would you like me to file reports for these three on accounts of harassment and trespassing?” He leans closer to a microphone-- 

(--Back at the cafe, Touya sucks in a breath, because Izuku’s eyes are gleaming like a field set on fire, and it’s terrifying--)

--and looks straight into a cameraman's eyes. “I do know a few good lawyers, and I’m sure Nedzu wouldn’t mind enforcing the rights of his precious students.” Izuku’s smile turns to a glower on the turn of a dime, and he turns back around. “You should know what’s good for you, dears. If you can’t get information without accosting others, you are quite the awful journalist, I’m afraid.” 

The entirety of the crowd holds their breath when he turns to the students, and then is, as a collective entity, blown away by the grin he gives. “Have a lovely day, Hitoshi! You two as well!” Carefully, he signs something at the blockier student, smiling and turning back. 

“Well, I don’t care what you say, kid, I’m gonna get information from them one way or another!” Says one brave man, one poor, stupid soul, who runs directly for the students. 

All across screens in Japan, Izuku’s horrified expression is seen, as is his next movement, a grab and a pull as the UA Barrier slams down not two inches from where the man had been a few seconds prior, had Izuku not pulled him to safety. There is a cry of alarm, and Izuku bites down the urge to scream at the whoosh of dust and air that comes along with the barrier. 

“Are you alright?” he says to the man, setting him down gingerly, previous anger completely forgotten. 

“Y-yes,” The man stammers, and Izuku hands him his microphone with a smile. 

“I’m sure All Might would be willing to answer a few questions after hours. It is part of being a Pro Hero, after all.” 

(If anyone notices the way his eyes darken in disgust after that sentence, they do not voice it.)

“Please don’t harass the students on their way to school-- the UA barrier could seriously hurt you all if you get close.” 

The group looks up at the wall and shuffles back, but does not dissipate. Izuku sighs. He supposes he can work with this, though he’d been hoping they would just… leave. 

“Well, I tried,” he murmurs, and then shoots an apologetic smile at the crowd. “Please keep a safe distance, then! If you’ll excuse me, I have to get back to my cafe!” The crowd parts for him like water, flabbergasted and utterly thrown looks shifted at one another. 

Somewhere in the crowd, Eraserhead finds he has to actively suppress a smirk, as a curious dual-colored teenager looks on. 

Somewhere in the crowd, a man scratches at his neck, gleeful and sickeningly curious. 

Somewhere inside the school, Kaminari and Kouda talk to Hitoshi, through mangled signs and garbled words, and a certain red-eyed blonde overhears, eyes narrowing and heart beating to the ragged rhythm of can’t be, won’t be, useless, not here, dead-- 

Somewhere inside the school suspicions grow, and a certain animal sips a cup of tea as he watches the broadcasts with some measure of delight, another of bewilderment. 

Somewhere inside the school, All Might sighs as he realizes how much press he’s going to have to deal with later that day. 

And then a single reporter speaks up as Izuku flounces off, turning the corner of the street, cursing himself for not being able to get a good enough look at UA’s security system before being interrupted.

“Wasn’t that the barista that went viral a few days ago?” 

~~~

“Goodness me,” Izuku says, hand to his chest as he walks back to the cafe. “That was quite the scare. I hope they didn’t get me angry on film,” He murmurs to himself as he comes upon his cafe. Looking inside, he smiles to find that it is rather densely populated, and everyone is sitting at tables, petting cats, and… staring?

Staring at what? Izuku squints harder, trying to look at the direction all the turned heads are going in, befuddled. They’re not looking at the TV, so… the… counter? Izuku opens the door and is met not with complete silence, but yelling.  

“You disgusting bitch! Is this your new boyfriend or what? You fucking left, and you took everything! I welcomed you back with open arms, and this is the thanks I get?! You deserve to die!” Izuku stares, unseeing, as he registers-- a disturbance in the air, this is a make or break moment for this future, a woman and her child, a man-- there’s-- his Quirk-- Touya-- Izuku blinks to the sound of flesh on flesh, a grunt, a spatter. 

The door closes behind him with a slam, and the half-out-of-their-seat customers and patrons turn to look at Izuku, frozen in place, because Touya has just taken seven three-inch glass spikes to the ribs, shielding a young woman and a little boy from a man far too red-faced to be sober. 

Izuku likes to think of himself as a rational person. He accepted that his mom was going to die, accepted that he would have to treat everyone with respect. Accepted that his cafe would be his everything, accepted the fact that Touya wouldn’t always be around him, that Hitoshi was abused and what Kacchan did to him wasn’t okay. 

Midoriyas prided themselves on being rational, as emotional as they got. 

And so, Izuku always asks a question-- usually to clarify the situation, get confirmation for what was going on, perhaps talk through the situation. That was the protocol Mom and him had set up ages ago, because neither of them could abide by violence. 

But this? This doesn’t get a question, Izuku thinks, because the man’s got a grin on his face, ugly and real, and this reminds him too much of what Hitoshi had whispered to him about, nightmares turned to realities, reminded him of Endeavor and his Mom and the little girl named Eri and the monster who had splattered her blood on his skin, reminded him of every fucked up thing he’d seen on the news, in his timelines, All Might standing stock still in agony, Aizawa dying, a small boy screaming for his father, a villain finding a hero’s child to finish the job--

"--Kacchan, please no! It hurts! Stop it!”

Izuku sees red, and in two seconds flat he’s by Touya’s side, staring up at the man, eyes widened. 

~~~

[A recording starts, a livestream of a rather popular model's account, affixing on her smiling face and the iridescent hues of her eyes.]

“Hi everyone, and thank you for tuning in! I’m Saki, and today I’m here at the Viridian Cafe, which has been seeing some major popularity rises in the past few days thanks to their young barista! I’ve actually been here a few times in the morning at a recommendation from a Pro Hero friend, and I’m enjoying the pastries today! I mean, look at this cake!” 

[The camera flips around to showcase a mouth-watering tiramisu, and one has to wonder how the barista could have made something so beautiful.] 

“And today, it looks like we have a new barista,” Saki whispers, giggling a bit, silvery freckles glinting in the sunlight from the windows of the cafe. “He’s actually pretty cute, if I do say so myself,” She says, and there’s a clamor in the comments section to see who he is. “Okay, okay!” She says, giggling. 

[The camera flips again, to show off a striking man with dark hair and blue eyes.]

[It is noted, strangely enough, that the man’s skin seems slightly uneven under his eyes and by his mouth. It is, however, not the bruised purple it had been if people had seen him a few days prior, and if people do not notice that it is the work of an Illusionary Quirk, they need not know.]

“Hello there, how may I--?” Saki has caught him in the middle of greeting another pair of customers, a young woman and a little boy clutching her hand. “Are you alright?” The man asks, and Saki shifts, paying closer attention when she sees the blood trailing down the lady’s temple and the disheveled state of the boy. 

“Please help, he’s coming--”

“You bitch!” The glass door is thrown open violently, and the woman draws in a loud sob, pulling the child close to her. “How dare you run away from me!” 

[The cafe quiets, and people begin to turn their heads. Saki sucks in a horrified breath, and the young dark-haired man vaults over the side of the counter gracefully to stand by the woman and the child.] 

“Excuse me, sir, you are causing a disturbance. Please leave immediately, if you aren’t going to order anything.” The man’s posture is rigid, and the other one gets even redder and roars. 

“I’m causing a disturbance? I’m causing a disturbance? This whore ran away from me with our kid! That’s the whole reason she’s mine, the damn kid! She doesn’t get to run away, neither of them do!” He bellows. 

[From the corner of the cafe, you can see someone picking up their phone, and Saki’s hand shakes as they all stare, one bated breath. An out of control Quirk user is a very dangerous citizen.] 

“I’m going to have to ask you to leave. You are upsetting the customers.” Saki mentally applauds the barista for staying so level-headed. The comments from the stream explode, outraged and worried people flooding in. 

“Like hell am I leaving! This bitch is the reason I’m here and I’m taking her!” 

[The man turns his attention to the duo cowering on the floor, and there are silent tears spilling out of the boy’s eyes.] 

“You disgusting bitch! Is this your new boyfriend or what? You fucking left, and you took everything! I welcomed you back with open arms, and this is the thanks I get?! You deserve to die!”

[Lightning fast, he lunges, and the camera view shakes as Saki gasps, a grunt and collision heard. When her hand stabilizes again from her flinch, it is to the sight of the young man shielding the boy and the woman on the ground, and the other man’s fist driven into the barista’s lower abdomen. Several clear spikes jut out, and there’s a small river of blood flowing down his tee, soaking the skin there.] 

“Oh my god,” Saki whispers, and then the bells ring as the door is slammed shut. 

[The camera pans over to the horrified expression of the barista everyone’s come to recognize, his green curls shifting slightly in the breeze. There are two seconds of silence, and then at a blinding speed the boy is over by the man and the other barista.]

[The livestream cuts off then, as Saki stands up to help, to do something, but there will be others who record. Others who begin to notice. Others who start coming to the Viridian.]

~~~

One, two, three. It only takes three steps for Izuku to get to the disgusting husk of a human, three bounds to confront every evil thing in this world. 

One, for the bracelet to activate on his left hand, beginning to spread over his arm. 

Two, for the handcuffs in his bulky sweater pocket to find their way into his right palm, click and activate. 

Three, for him to throw himself in front of Touya as the man retracts his fist, to get a faceful of bloody glass that scratches in burning agony. 

It might have hurt more in another timeline where Izuku isn’t used to agony, but this Izuku has watched himself die eighteen hundred times over in his not-futures, smelled the blood and tasted the pain. Deemed it dull, bland, cast it away from himself, because the threads that were strong were so much livelier. 

(It couldn’t have hurt more then when Hitoshi had a bottle smashed over his head.)

In swift movements, Izuku sticks his leg out, pulls the man too close and slams him into the ground with such force the nearest coffee tables jump. 

One instance is all it takes, two instances to grab the bloodied spikes and shatter them with a single well-aimed blow, ignore the cry of surprise and pain. 

Three instances to click the Quirk-cancelling handcuffs round the man’s hands, startling him enough that he stops trying to escape and lays there, in shock, on the floor.

The world holds its breath as Izuku straightens, as he feels his eyes burn and his mouth twist into an ugly expression. He wants so badly to break the man’s nose, gash him with the shattered spikes still clenched in Izuku’s hand, make him feel the pain he’s inflicted upon Izuku’s family--

(And isn’t that strange, how quickly he’s begun to consider them close, the three misfits, despite the fact that Touya didn’t even call him by his name.)

--But he doesn’t. Instead, he turns to the three others on the floor-- Touya, and a frightened boy, a woman with mascara running down her face. 

“Are you alright?” he asks the woman, softly. They are the first words he’s spoken since he’s gotten inside, and the entire cafe stares, dumbstruck. She nods, twice, jerkily. The boy stares up at him, horror trickling down his face to pool under his chin, and Izuku’s heart clenches at the terror in his eyes. 

“It’s okay now! What’s your name?” he asks cheerfully, ignoring the rise of panic in his throat when he sees that there is a pool of blood spreading from Touya’s collapsed position. 

“I-I’m Haku,” The boy says, sniffling loudly. 

“Well, Ha-kun, I think you did a great job staying quiet!” he says, ruffling his hair before standing up. “Want to bring your Mama upstairs with me? We can get you nice and patched up, does that sound okay?” Haku shrinks back, and Izuku hides a wince. He snaps his fingers, smiling wide and cheerful. “I have some awesome Hero figures you can play with! Do you like Heroes?” The boy’s face brightens up despite himself, and he rubs his eyes. 

“I… do, mister. Mama, can we…?” He turns to the woman, and Izuku absently notices all of her bruises. 

“Alright. Go on then, both of you, up those stairs. You can walk, right?” Izuku asks, gently, and avoids touching the woman outright. She nods, wordlessly, and he opens the door to his apartment, listening to the lady coo at the cats for approximately three second before he gently shuts the door and turns back to the elephant in the room. 

(The customers still there stare, because from one moment to the next, his face turns from hopeful helpfulness to cold fury, and his eyes glow with a different sort of justice.)

“The… harlot…” The man gasps out weekly, trying to push himself up by his elbows. Izuku hauls him up roughly, because he is so angry that he can scarcely think. 

“You are never welcome in this establishment again,” He hisses through his teeth, to avoid saying what he really wants to say, and brings the side of his glove viciously against the man’s neck, knocking him out, to avoid doing what he really wants to do. 

And then his facade crumbles, and he turns to Touya, who is trying to pull himself up with the counter. “Oh, mother of All Might, Touya,” Izuku gasps, hand going over his mouth and tears pricking in his eyes. “I’m so sorry, if I had known this was going to happen-- can someone call 911?” He looks around, frantically, unaware of the phone cameras and finally landing on Saki’s face. “Could you-- could I borrow your phone?” he asks, voice trembling as tears finally spill down his cheeks, warm and wet and he’s so useless.  

“Not… not the hospital, kid,” Touya says, wincing at the disturbance when he finally sits up. “S’okay, not that bad. Might have hit a lung though,” He says, feeling around and wincing. 

“Can’t feel shit, my ass,” Izuku mutters, and then turns to the customers, who are strickenly getting up out of their seats to walk over, help them--

“If I go to the hospital, they’re gonna look me up... Records are gonna… Todoroki, you know?” He says, and Izuku realizes what he means. 

“Oh sheesh, oh dear, oh… who am I supposed to call then?!” he hisses out, and fumbles around in his apron until he finds the autograph Present Mic had given him. “Please please please,” He spits blood to the side as people crowd around them, and then looks up, spooked, when someone offers him a hand up. 

The card doesn’t have a number on it. 

He stands up with a start, and looks around, frantic, and then bows. “I’m very sorry, but I’m going to have to ask all of you to leave. This man is still dangerous, and we may have others coming from here, so I am sorry, but…” He looks back down at Touya and winces. “Please leave,” He asks, voice weak. 

He doesn’t expect anyone to move, don't expect anyone to listen to useless Deku, but wordlessly they do, filtering out of the shop in various states of horror, rallying and calling 911.

As soon as they do, minus Saki, Izuku lets out a breathless gasp of relief, clutching at the spikes still jutting out of Touya’s gut. 

“This is shit luck, kid. I think they got longer, so now they’re pretty fucking stuck in my stomach,” Touya says, a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead. 

“What are we going to do?” Izuku wails, and then turns and gives Saki a strained smile. “I’m terribly sorry, but do you happen to have the contacts of anyone currently teaching at UA? There’s… I have an idea, but…you seem well-acquainted, based off of your videos.”

“Wait, you… you’ve seen my streams?” Saki asks, and Izuku blushes, wanting to tell her he watches them, how flattered he was that she was here, but his goddamn friend is bleeding out on the floor and he needs help.  

“Please?” 

“I… yes. Would you like me to call Present Mic?” 

“Can you? I know him, so--”

“Kid, I’m not getting any younger down here,” Touya calls, teeth clenched. “And I thought the old man’s training was bad,” he mutters, and Izuku pales. 

Saki puts in the number and Izuku takes the phone from her hand, wincing at the blood on the sparkling case. 

~~~

(Present Mic teaching English had brought on a minor aneurysm, Hitoshi thinks faintly. Being semi-fluent in it had brought him to the teacher’s attention, and Hitoshi had blushed so hard Sero had burst into laughter.

“Now then, who can tell me which is the correct sentence for ‘the boy jumped into the lake?’” Hitoshi’s hand shoots up, despite himself, because he wants to make a good impression goddamnit. Present Mic smiles, and it’s wide and open, but then his phone rings and he nearly doesn’t muffle the curse that comes out of his mouth. However, his confusion turns to sincere delight when he reads the Caller ID. 

“Oh! This, kids, is a super cool lady who was an exchange student in America for quite some time, and she can speak very well! I’ll ask her to speak for you.” He puts the call on speaker as soon as he picks up, child-like delight shining in his eyes, and Hitoshi finds himself reminded of Izuku. “Hi, Saki-chan! I’m not sure why you’re calling me when you know it’s the middle of the school day, but do you want to do an awesome English impression for class 1-A?”

He waits, pointing a finger at the phone, but after a few seconds of silence and confusion from various students, he blinks at the phone, opening his mouth to say something else. 

“Um… Present Mic, that’s you, right?” A tired, raspy voice plays out over the speakers, and Hitoshi starts. Is that… Izuku? Present Mic’s eyes widen, as does his grin, and Hitoshi wants to be happy too, but Izuku sounds… upset.

“Hello, little listener! How did you come by Saki’s phone?” There’s an explosion of sound from the other side. 

“Shit, he’s awake! Kid, you've gotta make some magic happen--”

“The police are outside, hold on--”

“--Saki, watch out!” The last cry is Izuku’s, and the smile drops from Present Mic’s face as there’s a crash and a muted thud. 

“--Are you okay, kid?” 

“Fine,” There’s a clear voice again, and Present Mic is in hero-mode now, fully.

“What’s going on?” He asks, and Hitoshi wants to know that too, goddamnit. 

“I’m sorry for calling you out of the blue like this, but, uh… there's a domestic abuser knocked out on the floor of my cafe right now, and his victims are upstairs… they’re safe, but my coworker…” There’s coughing heard, and a cry of distress. “Touya, are you alright?!”

Todoroki’s eyes widen marginally at the name, but no one notices, and he will later rule it a coincidence anyway. “My coworker got stabbed. I think his left lung got punctured… I’m sorry to intrude, but do you think you could send Recovery Girl over, maybe a Pro? He can’t really go to a hospital, but without it…” Izuku asks, and his voice cracks on the last word. “If… if it’s okay,” He sobs out, and Hitoshi is standing straight up, eyes wide. 

Present Mic is already halfway to the door, and the door slams shut in class 1-A’s faces. 

“I hope he’s alright,” Kaminari says, unusually quiet. 

“I’m sure he’ll be fine,” Hitoshi says, but the words are chalky in his mouth.)

~~~

“Hi, Mic-san,” Izuku says when the door bursts open. The person who strides in is decidedly not Present Mic-- in fact, it’s Eraserhead, followed by Recovery Girl. 

“Problem child.” 

“Shouta!” Saki gasps. 

“Hello, dearie,” Recovery Girl says, and relieved tears spring out of Izuku’s eyes. 

“Hi, Recovery Girl. Can you help…?” He gestures vaguely at the person on their side, coughing weakly. “I would have administered first aid but you can’t exactly help with a punctured lung, and there’s still glass stuck in his gut, and I couldn’t move him without making it worse…” 

“Is this the perpetrator?” Eraserhead asks, looking at the man on the floor.

Izuku quietly thanks his lucky stars that Touya had let himself be talked into a mild illusionary Quirk to make his scars less identifiable. 

He also didn’t really know why Touya was so worried about being identified, since Polaris still hasn’t been caught (and really, Izuku was worried someone was going to come after him in his civilian form soon, since the casual way Tsukauchi-san had spilled information that Izuku would normally think classified meant that he knew more about Izuku and Polaris then he had let on) and he’s a much more prominent vigilante then Dabi. 

Each to their own, he supposed, and wow. What a time to be muttering, when your coworker is bleeding out on the floor. 

“Ah, yes…” Izuku says, smiling exhaustedly. 

“Oh, you poor boy,” Recovery Girl clucks. “How are we going to go about doing this? He still has the fragments of glass in his stomach…” She pulls up his shirt and winces at the blood. 

“I can help!” A small, chirpy voice calls from the stairs. Izuku looks up to see the pair Touya had rescued watching the proceedings, the boy trying his best to look determined despite the telltale wobble in his lip from seeing so much blood. 

“Haku, no,” The woman says, but she’s so exhausted there’s no fight in her eyes. 

“But Mama! He needs the glass taken out, and I can do it! Only me!” Haku protests, and then his mother relents with a weak nod. Izuku sees Eraserheads side-eye and tries to convey their innocence in a single look. His cheek is covered in blood, but Eraserhead seems to still get the memo. 

“Haku, can you help?” Izuku asks, brightly. Haku looks up at him and his exuberant smile falls a bit, eyes shining with tears. 

“Yes… did you get hurt ‘cause of me? Mama always gets hurt ‘cause of me…”

“No, she doesn’t,” Izuku says bluntly. Haku looks up at him, confused. “She gets hurt because of that mean man over there. He’s what we call a villain. Him and only him are the reason this happened. But,” He says, and brandishes his brightest, least-exhausted smile yet-- “I’m not even hurt! So don’t worry about it.”

“Really?” Haku says, beautiful blue eyes wide and astonished. 

“Really.” Izuku says, smiling. 

“Okay! Well, I just got my Quirk, and my Mama says it’s Glass Manipulation! I can heat up, cool down, move, explode, break… recreate… basically anything with glass!” He says, and Izuku faintly notes he has one missing tooth when Haku smiles. “I got it cuz Mama could make things really hot, and… that guy could make spikes of glass.” He sends a cool look to the form being hauled out to the police, and Izuku nods. 

“That would be great for hero work, Haku, as well as a number of other things! What do you want to be?” Haku thinks hard. 

“I’m not sure, mister!”

“Well that's alright too. My name is Izuku,” Izuku says, giggling despite how it makes his face hurt, because he has to keep the act up or Touya will die. “So you ready to get the spikes out?” 

“Yeah!” Haku says, and concentrates, eyes screwing shut as each of the seven spikes slowly comes out, several smaller pieces as well. Touya tenses, and his eyes meet Izuku’s, but even in his half-conscious state he understands enough to keep from moving. The moment the spikes are out, Haku let's go with a big breath and they clatter to the floor.

Touya breathes out, and Recovery Girl leans over and gives him a kiss on the temple. Immediately, Touya’s face slumps from one of pain into exhaustion, and he sighs as he sits up, arms twitching with the effort. 

“Oh, thank goodness,” Izuku says. 

“I think I ruined the apron,” Touya mutters as his elbows shake from exertion in an attempt to pull himself up further. “But I managed to keep the cats away from the pool of blood, so who’s the real winner?”

“I can stitch the apron, dumbass,” Izuku says. “What matters is that you’re in one piece.”

“Eh, it wasn’t worse then what the old man used to do to me,” Touya says, before stiffening and remembering that right, he’s around Heroes.

Izuku takes the moment of silence to look at Recovery Girl, beaming. 

“Polaris said I’d need to use a favor to get you here, but I digress,” And it’s almost comical how Recovery Girl’s eyes widen. 

“A favor? That silly girl!” She shakes her head, revealing a host of new things about her Izuku is appreciative of. “Never.” At that moment, Eraserhead comes back with Detective Tsukauchi, and Izuku smiles at them. 

“Hello! Have you come for their testimonies?” Izuku asks, waving a hand at the duo. The Detective nods, and winces when Izuku turns his head to call out to the woman, injured cheek on display and still gushing warm blood in tiny rivulets.

“Shouldn’t he get healed?” He whispers out of the corner of his mouth, but Izuku only half-registers it. 

“He’s a problem child,” Aizawa-san says in lieu of a response, which offends Izuku a little bit. 

“Hey, Ha-kun!” He says, kneeling down. “What’s your mom’s name?”

“Mio!” Haku says, cheerfully. 

“Mio-san?” Izuku parrots, and the poor lady looks up as if she hasn’t heard her name in ages, and she’s not sure it’s still her. “Would you be alright to give a testimony now? This man can verify whether you’re telling the truth immediately, and it really helps with speeding along the trial process.” Izuku says cheerfully. “And if they let your abuser go off without any less than fifty years, I’ll barge in there and drag him to jail myself.”

(Tsukauchi flinches next to Eraserhead, and gives him a wide-eyed look when his eyes flick over. ‘He means it’, he mouths, and something in Eraserhead changes, a slightly manic edge to his expression, a smirk under his scarves.)

“Ah. Alright. Haku, let’s go?” She says it more like a question, and it reminds him of when he was a child. Haku comes obligingly, though he pouts a fair amount. 

“I wanna stay with you, ‘Zuku,” He mutters, and Izuku laughs, heart aching at the pet nickname. 

Who called me that last…?

“While we can’t do that right now, I do have something I can give you! Would you mind waiting here?” At everyone’s nods, he darts upstairs, ignoring the awful pain in his ribcage (from when the man had awoken once more and thrown him against the counter), and grabs two action figures. “Here!” He says, and Haku’s eyes bug out. “This is an All Might one, and this is an Eraserhead figure!” Izuku says cheerfully, and gently ruffles Haku’s hair. Haku stiffens, but only for a moment; then he leans into the touch, and takes the figurines with stars in his eyes. 

“Why these two?” He looks up unsteadily. “I know All Might, but Erase-head is new!” Izuku holds back a snicker. 

“Eraserhead, Ha-kun. And… Well, they’re my favorite heroes!” Izuku says, totally forgetting Eraserhead is in the room with them. 

Touya snickers, and Izuku feels himself turn red, but he still keeps his smile on straight, even when more blood drips out of the gashes in his cheek. 

“Ohhhh. Say, 'Zuku, why don’t you have a figurine?”

“Pardon?” Izuku asks. 

“Well, aren’t you a Hero?” Haku asks, eyes wide and innocent, and against his will, Izuku feels tears prick his own eyes. 

“Me? I’m not a Hero, kiddo. Just an upstanding citizen,” Izuku says, laughing a bit. “I don't even have a Quirk,” he murmurs, and hopes Touya hasn't caught that. It's better if Haku doesn't know. 

(Eraserhead does, in fact, catch that. It's the beginning of the unraveling, but it's a good excuse as any right now.)

“But your heart is,” Haku says quietly, and oh, how Izuku just wants to hug this kid and never let him go. 

“Thank you, Haku. That means a lot. But I should probably get better at saving people before I become a Hero, no?” 

(The Heroes look on in bewilderment-- hadn’t he just saved this child?)

“I guess so,” Haku concedes, as if he understands. He taps Izuku’s shoulder, cups his hands around his ear, and whispers something to him solemnly. “You have to save yourself first, right?” 

(Naomasa watches in curiosity, but doesn’t ask. He will ask someone someday, a too-thin girl with pewter-sparkling freckles, how she’d come across Izuku and why she was so calm with him. 

“He’s one of us,” She’ll say, calmly and quietly. When Tsukauchi looks at her, confused, she’ll smile, fragmented. “His heart is broken, just like mine is.”

But that is neither here nor there.)

“This is for you, Mio-san,” Izuku says, giving her the Viridian business card. “Call me if you need to find a job, a place to crash, or you just want to stop by and say hello. The doors are always open for you,” Izuku says gently, and his face softens when Mio’s eyes fill with tears. 

“Thank you,” She whispers, and then they’re off, walking out the door with Tsukauchi. Izuku sighs, and now it’s just Eraserhead, Touya, and Recovery Girl. 

“I should… sit down,” Izuku murmurs, and then groans a bit. “Uh oh.” 

“What’s wrong?” Touya looked at him, worried, and Izuku tried to smile again. 

“Remember when he threw me against the counter?”

“He what?” Recovery Girl rages, but his eyes are doing funny things, and it’s ringing in his head, so he can’t really hear her.

“Oh, kid.”

“Sorry about this, can you handle the cafe--” Izuku blacks out, stumbling mid-sentence. 

~~~

“Oy, kid, you awake?” 

“Ugh,” Izuku says, groaning and looking up into the face of a much better looking Touya. “Oh! You’re okay!” He sits up and yawns. “What time is it?”

“Nearly noon.” Izuku bolts straight upright with a shout of surprise as soon as the words are out of Touya’s mouth, but he can’t help it, he…

“What? What? Kid, talk to me!” Touya says, mildly panicked. 

“I have to go get groceries!” Izuku says, wide-eyed. ...he’d forgotten! Touya groans.

“Kid.”

“Sorry, sorry!” Izuku says, throwing his hands up. “Was everyone alright?” 

“Yeah. Recovery Girl healed you and it knocked you right out. Eraserhead wanted to stay until you woke up, the softie, but I told him you’d be alright. You did get a scar though.” Touya says gruffly. 

Izuku stares, and then opens his phone. “A scar?” 

“Yes?” Touya looks at him funnily. “When he slashed you across the face?” 

“Ah.” He stares at the two faint horizontal slashes going from right ear to cheek. He minds them less than he thought he would, and it’s almost as if he has whiskers. 

“Weird enough, they didn’t question me, or call the police, or ask about anything.” Touya huffs. “I want to say that the Illusion Quirk just worked hella well, but…” Izuku sighs. 

“Yeah, there’s no way they’re not up to something. They probably need me for it, though… maybe they’re planning on bringing in Polaris?”

“Yeah, maybe.” A pause. “You kinda scared us, kid. Recovery Girl lifted your shirt up and there was just this big-ass bruise… reminded me of Shouto, a bit,” he murmurs the last part, as if not expecting Izuku to hear. 

“Aww,” Izuku says, giggling behind his hand. “Thank you for worrying.” He blinks. “Oh no, do you want to leave? It is nearly noon…”

“I can cover a few more hours, go get your damn groceries,” Touya says, ruffling his hair roughly. “You did basically just save my life.” Izuku beams at him. 

“But that was because you saved someone else’s life,” He says. 

(Touya feels a twinge of warmth in his chest when Izuku smiles at him, because his face goes soft, and a small seed is planted in his head, one that will war with him for months, one that will bite him in the ass before helping him. That’s alright, though, because eventually it will be worth it.)

“I guess so. Go get your food, dumbass,” Touya says, and Izuku flounces up. 

“Sure! Anything you need?”

“Go look for a will to live, kid.”

“Not funny! I don’t think they have two of those in the supermarket.”

“Hey.” 

~~~

Izuku hums as he brandishes the shopping list on his phone like a weapon. 

“Okay okay,” He says, and bounces past UA just in time to realize that the press is still crowded around the gate. 

Then he sees someone in a hoodie elbow through the crowd, and places their hand on the edge of the UA gate. “What’s that going to-- oh shit,” Izuku wheezes as he watches the gate crumble and disintegrate. 

The press runs in, alarms blare, and Izuku bets Eraserhead has a hell of a headache right now. He watches the man with the hoodie retreat, has his phone out and the tracking app open before he realizes it, staring at the blinking blip that is Kurogiri. 

That the strange man is walking right towards. 

“The gate is open!” Someone cries, triumphantly, and Izuku massages the bridge of his nose, waging a silent argument within himself. 

“Will I ever have time for groceries?” He mutters as he begins to tail the hoodie man. 

~~~

Izuku has realized that this was a very very bad idea when he listens to the guy’s maniacal laughter and when he watches the portal materialize out of nowhere.

They're planning an attack, whisper the threads in the back of his mind in green-blue-violet. You won't be enough to stop it. That's Shigaraki, someone who is a villain in some of the close probabilities.

People might die.

He has realized that Crusty McGee (Shit-Garaki, CreepyHands or BreadCrust) has a copy of class 1-A’s schedule, and are going to attack tomorrow, Kacchan and Hitoshi and Todoroki, who he still needs to save--  

He won’t stand for it, not in the slightest.

But how will you help?

He remembers he has the tracking application still installed on his phone, despite the fact that he'd attempted to make use of that information ages ago. He recognizes it’s a bad idea to find Kurogiri’s lair, a bad idea to think they don’t know they’re being tracked, but he knows it’s a good idea to rely on the fact that they haven’t made a move despite that. 

(If it’s being led by All For One like he suspects, everyone is in for a shitload of chaos.)

So what does Izuku do? 

Walk right into the lion’s den. 

Of course, he has his visor and his costume on, voice changer and all. 

He’s got to play his cards well, which means he can’t expose he’s Polaris, but he also can’t just say he’s Midoriya Izuku. 

So for tonight, Izuku will be someone named Omniscience. 

(He’s lucky he hasn’t done very much in his suit-- hasn’t really put his name out there, only known for the analysis he gave Eraserhead, and what’s from the old Polaris, his Mom. 

He will not realize until it is too late that he has caught the eye of All For One; it is never a good thing to be caught in the eyes of a demon, because demons know no humanity. 

But this is neither here nor there.) 

Stepping into the bar after checking his voice changer and making sure the setting is right, that he really does sound like an American with a vendetta and a bad smoker’s lung, is terrifying. 

He hopes he’s in the right place, and when the door swings open and he sees Kurogiri in the corner, looking up, the only thing he can think, even his subconscious Kacchan laughing hysterically, is there’s the bitch.  

He sits down on a stool, slumping over. 

“Who’re you?” A dry voice asks, and Izuku wants to throw up, because it’s Shit-garaki himself, isn’t it? 

“Can I get a drink?” Izuku calls out, trying his best not to flinch when his voice comes out all gravelly. “Ain’t this a bar?”

“For some,” Kurogiri says mildly, suddenly by them. “What do you desire?”

“Whiskey on the rocks, or somethin’,” Izuku mutters, because he really hadn’t figured this out, and how the hell was he supposed to drink with a visor on? 

“Well?” Kurogiri slides him the drink. Maybe… holy hell, did the illusion work on his visor? Why hadn't he tested this before?!

Carefully, carefully, he activates the illusion he’d set in advance, covering his face in a smooth, clouded jade mask, and brings the whiskey to his lips, deactivating the mask up to his nose. 

Fortunately, there are no cries of outrage or a blade by his throat (yet), so the illusion has worked. Unfortunately, the whiskey tastes horrible-- god, how did people drink alcohol? He tries to take the smallest swallow possible, miming drinking, and then sets the cup down, not even having to feign his disgust. 

“Nasty,” He mutters, and Kurogiri stiffens. Crusty McGee smirks a bit, under the-- oh mother of All Might, is that a real hand? Why is he smiling?

“You’re gutsy, mister…?”

“Omniscience,” Izuku says, feigning boredom and knowing the strange word would throw him off. “My friends said you had a plan… of sorts. It sounded like a good time, and…”

“...and?” Izuku takes private joy at how Creepyhands hangs onto his every word.

“I can see that it will succeed, with my Quirk,” Izuku says, a wry grin twisting across his face. “UA will be ridiculously underprepared,” He says, an edge of mirth to the American smoker-dude voice, because he isn't technically lying. 

Omission isn’t lying, is it? 

“Your Quirk…?” Kurogiri murmurs. “Are you really… Omniscient?”

“Enough so,” Izuku says shortly. “Am I in?”

“Meet us back here tomorrow, noon,” Crust-face says, a certain glee to his eyes. “I hope we can work out… an alliance in the future.” Izuku holds back a gag of disgust, merely gets up, eyes Kurogiri. 

It seems he‘s shown himself as a common thug, but maybe coming personally to the bar had been a bit much. And… Why were they showing such interest in him? 

(There is a muted screen in the corner of the bar. Izuku doesn’t notice it. One day, he will sob, grit his teeth and choke out his deepest regrets, and wonder why he hadn’t just looked up, but that is neither here nor there.) 

“Teleport me to a train station,” he says smoothly, and everyone’s eyes widen in sync.

He grins, a wicked, ugly thing that nearly permeates through the illusion, because he’s using his anger to fake everything. It’s not the Heroes he’s angry at-- it’s himself. 

They don’t need to know that, though. “What? I live two cities away.” Better to be safe than sorry, he supposes. He glowers. “What are you all afraid of?”

Wordlessly, Kurogiri teleports him, but can’t help feeling a small shudder when Izuku passes through. He notices it, and smiles. Maybe something deep inside Kurogiri recognizes the eyes they can just barely see through the illusion. 

He’s going to give them hell for daring to try to mess with All Might, Eraser…. Kacchan… Hitoshi. 

~~~

(“Was he really the one you were so worried about, Sensei?” Shigaraki’s grin is manic. “He seemed pretty into killing All Might for me.” 

“You may want to tread carefully, Tomura. He isn’t the one that we want-- his Quirk is.”

“It wouldn’t be fitting for a Noumu though…” Shigaraki says, sighing. He does hate when he can’t convert his allies into… more subservient subjects. “I guess I’ll just have to keep him close, then,” He says, with eyes full of content malice.)

~~~

Izuku pukes through the illusion as soon as Kurogiri is gone and is delighted when it doesn’t even flicker, despite the fact that now he’s got bile going down his chin. 

“Never again,” He wheezes, looking up and wiping his mouth with one black glove. “I did say train station, but this is ridiculously close to UA…” He stops, wonders. “Far as they’re concerned, I’m a low-life, right? So they wouldn’t… track me or anything, right?” He sighs. “I guess I’ll just have to get UA information through Hito-chan, then…” 

He stops and stills, breaths coming quick. What was wrong with him? He'd just-- just walked straight in there, and he was dealing with murderers who were going to storm UA-- what was he doing?! He should tell UA, he should get teachers, he should somehow just-- 

But what if you mess it up because you tell them? Color leaches out of his face. What if they don't take you seriously? How do you know which future is right? You don't, do you? 

"I can't tell anyone, can I?" He murmurs to himself, faintly, stumbling over his steps. 

Stupid Deku. The threads sneer with a hiss-fizz-pop that grates in Izuku's ears, and fear coils in his gut, unabound terror. If he can't tell UA, he'll have to show up with everyone. He'll have to-- he'll have to fight. The realization douses him in ice water, the realization he's eager for it. 

He begins walking without purpose, occasionally busting the skulls of some thugs, saving someone from a mugging, helping a lady he doesn’t remember the name of across the street and getting a chocolate bar in return. He doesn’t want to eat it, not after the sickening burn of whiskey down his throat and the smell of decay, but he does anyway. Some people take pictures, and he’s pretty sure that he’s on all the security footage, but he doesn’t stop. 

Faintly, he knows he’ll have to get away once the Pros arrive, and walks away. 

Faintly, he knows that if the League sees what he’s been up to, (if that’s even the name they’re going to go by in this timeline, and why does this matter to him in the face of his imminent doom?) then his entire ruse will be ruined. 

Faintly, he finds himself not caring.

Faintly, he finds himself grinning harshly under the mask, aggression ripping through him in a sickening wave of relief.

Faintly, he remembers thinking let them come for me.

And then he stops, remembers, and looks up at the sun going down in the sky. How long had he been out and about?

When he deactivates his suit, slips into his room, above the cafe, cleans the blood running down his face, and goes to Hitoshi and Touya tending to the cats, who smile at him, tears spring unbidden to his eyes and then he has to explain to them why he’s sobbing. 

“It sure has been a long day, hasn’t it, kid?” Touya says, huffing when Izuku sniffs loudly. Hitoshi snickers, ruffles his hair with over-exaggerated reassurances, like one might do for a toddler. Izuku, for once, doesn't resist it. 

“Yeah,” Izuku says, but he doesn’t look him in the eyes, because tomorrow will be so much worse.  

TO BE CONTINUED… 

Chapter Text

~AKA Izuku beats the shit out of everyone with a conveniently placed metal stick.~

“Izuku… Izuku… Izuku I’m dumping a cat on your head if you don’t wake up.” 

“Mmmrf.” 

“You have three seconds.” 

“Noooo,” Izuku finally cracks his eyes open, blinking bearily at the purple blob in front of him. “Hito-chan, why?” 

“I’m going to be late, Izuku. Aren’t you used to waking up bright and early?”

“Hnnng.” Izuku sits himself up, groaning. “That’s what you think. I just never actually sleep.”

“Haha.” A pause. “Please tell me you aren’t serious. I'm supposed to be the insomniac.”

“I’m serious, Hito-chan,” Izuku says, and the blur of Bad Things™ that happened yesterday and what would go into Worse Things™ today hits him all at once, a wave of nausea accompanying the thoughts. “Oh god,” he says, and claps his hands over his mouth. 

“What? What?” Hitoshi shakes him, and Izuku finally removes his hands from his face, nausea briefly abated.

“Sorry. I think I’m getting sick. Also… Polaris came by again yesterday, and they didn’t look too good. I freaked out a bit.” 

“Oh?” Hitoshi’s brows furrow. “Come to think of it, I did see something online earlier…”

(He doesn’t say he was browsing the hashtag #GreenAllOver, because Izuku still does not know about the tag.)

“They got clubbed over the head defending an old lady, Hito-chan,” Izuku says flatly, trying his best not to rub the still-sore spot on his skull. If the League knew about him, he was utterly screwed over. Why had he been so royally stupid yesterday? 

“Ow,” Hitoshi says, subconsciously rubbing his own head.

“The good thing is, though, that he got me some nice info!” Izuku springs up, bounding over to his dresser and pulling out the hard drive. 

“He?” Hitoshi says, and well shit.

“Mmm… don’t tell anyone, okay?” Izuku says, winking. “They’re a he.” And then he places the hard drive in Hitoshi’s hand, watches his brain do a hard reset through his eyes, with no small amount of glee. “And there's actually someone else pulling strings too! A great analyzer, I hear," Izuku says with a tilt of his head. "They were the ones who actually made this stuff make sense, I think. Do you think you could get this to Eraserhead-san? Like… incognito?”

“What.” 

“Sorry, sorry, but I really don’t feel like hacking into UA’s security system, not after what I saw yesterday--” Izuku claps his hands over his mouth to stop the words before they come out and expose him. 

“You… you viewed UA’s security system?” Hitoshi says, ever the unfortunately clever one. Izuku winces. 

“No…” Izuku says, and then sighs. “Okay, maybe, but only from the outside, because I was curious! But we have to open the bakery and I want to show you how to bake croissants with puff pastry, so we're talking later. Suffer.”

“Teach me your ways!”

“I will if you get out and let me change, Hitocchan.” 

~~~

Izuku only lets the rehearsed smile drop from his face when Hitoshi leaves for school. 

“The schedule said they’d be at the USJ when…?” He feels his lips tremble and presses a shaking hand to his face. He has to remember, has to, think think-- “After lunch! Mother of All Might, can someone tell me what I need to do?” He should have told a hero. “On what evidence…? Polaris’s honor? I’m just an imposter,” Izuku mutters, sneering down at his arms. He hasn't gotten a chance to develop the other side of his job, the thing that'll keep everyone from death suffering red eyed demons and spatters on the wall--

“Useless,” He murmurs, and then looks up, breathes in, albeit shakily, racking his brain until it dawns on him. “But I can be good for something, can’t I?” He’d just have to take a chance on this one. 

He flicks on the open sign and smiles at the third years scrabbling for coffee to bring to school, pretends that everything is fine even though it’s most obviously not. 

~~~

At lunch, Izuku promptly serves the last customer and flicks the light off, hurriedly turning on the forcefield and vaulting over the balcony not a moment after. 

His ankle twinges when he moves, and further reinforces the awful feeling of being woefully unequipped to deal with what was going to happen later. There were so many futures, so many ways this could go, and he knew not which way his life was going to rapidly veer. 

As he walked in darker alleys, he transformed himself into Polaris, revelling in the fact that people didn’t know his costume yet. Yet, he tells himself, because he can and will do this, despite the fact that he has a passive Quirk and he hasn’t seriously sparred with Tanaka-sensei in too long. 

“Great pep talk, self.” He mutters as he brushes past shady people smoking things that don’t always appear to be cigarettes, ducking into the alcove that leads to the League’s current hideout, clicking the voice changer on. 

When he opens the door, a mite too roughly, he is greeted with a terrifying site-- a now cleared-of-accessory space, filled to the brim with all kinds of petty villains and thugs. He’s affronted with muscles, sweat, blood, scales, fur, baseball bats or metal or the scent of alcohol, and it’s almost funny how dizzy he gets. Everyone inside is milling about as if there is no smell, and he sees Kurogiri and Crusty Hands, though he doesn’t know what exactly they’re going to gain from standing amongst all these low-life villains, as they might put it. 

But then Kurogiri’s mist eyeballs zero in on Izuku’s hastily clicked-on mist-illusion mask, and Izuku wants to die, just a bit, because he had underestimated their interest in certain people, including him. Fuck his life.  

“We are ready to commence,” Kurogiri says, his voice melodic and absolutely chilling, and oh All Might, he wasn’t waiting on Izuku, was he? It had to be just a freaky coincidence, right? Villains around him begin to jeer, and Izuku tries to hold back his shudders. He’s got his taser, got his metal bo staff, got the suit flushed light green with pent-up kinetic energy from bustling through the crowd. 

Only a gut instinct has him clicking his visor so that it funnels over his face, and then there is purple and they’re in a bright facility, tall, sprawling ceilings, and a group of children standing right there. 

A small part of Izuku realizes he’d been teleported so that he stands right by Shit-garaki, but the other part is far too horrified by the prospect of these children being hurt to really care. He sees a flash of purple hair and is nearly sick. Hitoshi. 

“Good afternoon,” Kurogiri purrs. “We are the League of Villains, and we are here to kill All Might.” The students gasp, but there isn’t actually an All Might in sight, and Izuku feels himself grow more agitated, desperate to move. This was a future he'd seen, yes. But one he hadn't accounted for.  

“Oi, Shigaraki, didn’t you say he’d be here?” Izuku calls out into the stark split-second of silence. 

“I did,” Shigaraki hisses, and all of the students’ attention is drawn to the two of them. 

(Izuku doesn’t see Eraserhead's expression and flinch, he doesn’t.)

“Huh.” Izuku sticks his hands in nonexistent pockets, tries to hold back a snicker. “Who would have guessed.” He waits for the lightbulb to go off in Shigaraki’s head, the realization that Izuku had known, even though he hadn't, not really, and after a moment’s pause, he isn’t disappointed.

“You… you knew this would happen! You said you saw it all! You… piece of shit! I’ll kill you!” CrustyHands McGee roars, and suddenly Izuku has had enough of this shit, enough of the sleepless nights and the stupid ass nightmares he has because of this guy. 

“And that’s my cue!” He says brightly, so cheerful that Shigaraki falters half a step. 

In that time, Izuku grins, walks forward and decks Shigaraki in the face. 

~~~

(Shouta hadn’t known what to think when All Might had laughed, sheepishly, deflated and coughing blood and drinking tea. He hadn’t known what to say when Thirteen had begun explaining their class for the day and a portal had been thrown open, hadn’t known what to observe, who to observe, when the villains came out of it. 

But when Polaris came out of that same portal, laughing and ready for combat? 

Shouta didn’t know what to do, and that’s never a good thing when you’re a Pro. 

The Polaris he’d heard of was a hushed, secretive topic for heroes to debate-- it was done behind closed doors or in bars right before the first round of drinks. 

He’d always revelled in Polaris’ anonymity, the way they--she, he had remembered her as, but now him--  fought off villains and heroes with equal ease. 

She’d dismantled cartels, rescued children and the abused and the discriminated against-- been the moon to the up and rising sun of All Might, a helpful beam of light in the shadow-realm. Even if she didn’t make enough of an impact to be known, those who looked at the statistics or who striving to go Underground, they heard her voice and they heard stories of her. 

She had befriended him, sitting by his window in his foster home. She’d given him cat bandages, smiled at his antics, when she could have been not much older than him himself. 

She’d promised to be there for him through hell and high water, gotten him adoptive parents who had actually cared, played around with her Quirk and snuck him snacks. She’d been like an older sister-- teasing him over Hizashi, and then mourning Oboro with him. 

And then neatly, she’d fallen out of the picture. There one day and gone the next, leaving a hole quickly swept up by the rapidly overtaking fear of All Might, but not quite filled, not truly. No hero could really stand on the edge of the balance between legal and not and expect to come out as unscathed as she did. 

Shouta had mourned, because he had hoped he might work with her, one day, that he’d get to see beyond the mask, tell her she was the closest thing he’d had to family, and yet-- now there was another, another bumbling, inexperienced copycat, and he felt like he should protect them.

And maybe he should have, because now he was getting chills-- as much as the original Polaris had toed the line, she’d always fallen over to heroes.

What if this Polaris was the opposite, to band with villains?

Or worse, if this one knew the original, what if they died? Before Shouta could ask about anything? Anyone? Shirakumo? 

Luckily for him, he remembered that this vigilante knew Izuku, and Izuku was as much of a hero as any of his class, despite his strange tendencies and toeing of the morally gray line. 

So he supposed he shouldn’t have been so surprised when what looked like the leader started to scream at the sleek figure, and he responded by punching him in the jaw, which would have landed him halfway across the gym had he not been caught by the purple portal villain. 

But he was. Sue him. Just a bit.)

~~~

“What are you doing?!” Shigaraki roars when he lands, courtesy of Kurogiri. “You are my pawn!” If Izuku were actually paying attention as he continued to hiss and spit, he might have retorted with something witty, something like ‘I’m against killing kids’ or ‘Sike!’ 

Sadly, as the surrounding villains had recognized he was kind of an anti-hero, his hands were mildly full, plus he had to get to Kurogiri before he did something like teleport all the children around the dangerously realistic disaster zones all around. 

Seriously, what was education nowadays?! How did they expect two heroes to adequately supervise twenty-five children in several completely different zones? 

Izuku notes that his suit is gaining kinetic energy dangerously fast, although he’s ninety percent sure some of it is leaking out of the stab wound on his side. Speaking of which, kudos to the villain who managed to give him a stab wound! When did that happen?

Everyone else who is trying to hurt him is flying backwards right now, but he supposed that’s going to wear off soon so he should probably get his head back into the fight, right? Distantly, he realizes Thirteen is facing off against Kurogiri and curses.

“THIRTEEN, NO!” He roars, and Thirteen uncaps their fingers anyway, because no one likes to fucking listen to Izuku, nope, nobody! And so Izuku has to use a villain as a launch pad to tackle Thirteen from sucking up their own suit. 

He doesn’t even have time to consider the fact that he’s knocked down a perfectly good Rescue Hero before Kurogiri’s attention is turning back towards the students, and--

“—Fuck that!” Izuku says, oh-so-eloquently, tackling him and throwing all of his weight into the metal armor around his chest plate. 

The voice changer swings wildly as Izuku accidentally uses too much force and slams Kurogiri deep into the concrete, but it works out for him, because now he just has to grab his Quirk-cancelling cuffs and then he can— “SHIT!” Izuku roars, and oh wow look at that he now has a woman’s voice, or is this auto-tune? 

Maybe he’s just squeaky because he’s so panicked and he FORGOT TO GET THE GODDAMN QUIRK CANCELLING CUFFS BACK FROM ERASERHEAD HE DOESN’T HAVE THE BRAIN CAPACITY TO THINK ABOUT THIS RIGHT NOW. And he very well can’t ask for them now, can he?! Not while he’s Polaris. 

He turns to stare at the frozen teenagers in various states of horror, and grimaces. “Someone tape up his hands. Todoroki, freeze the hell out of him and block his vision completely, please! I don’t have cuffs on me!” He squeaks frustratedly. “Bakugo, can you grab him for me?” 

“WHY DO YOU KNOW MY NAME, FUCKER?” Ah, yes, the good old Kacchan charm. At least it jolts everyone else into action. 

“I’m terribly sorry I couldn’t prevent this— the best I could do is infiltration,” Izuku stutters our as fast as possible, because there’s a hulking black creature down in the plaza that is DEFINITELY not a hero and holy hell, how did he miss that in the bar? “I saw your names in the roster, and oh mother of All Might please hold him down!” Izuku’s voice goes through a variety of changes until it sets upon a horrifying morbid echo of thirty voices, hissing into one another.

Kacchan, thankfully, obliges, despite the fact that he looks mildly terrifying in the way he executes it. It’s the thought that counts, right? “Which one of you is Iida Tenya?” Izuku asks, as soon as Todoroki’s frozen Kurogiri solid, because though he needs to fucking hurry he also can’t reveal he’s Izuku. 

“What is your intention with me, villain?!” Iida yells, and Izuku cringes because he doesn’t have time for this. 

“Cafe owner told me you’d be trustworthy,” he says, and it would be funny that Izuku can see Iida’s eyes bug out from underneath his armor if they weren't all in mortal danger. “Please get out and find All Might.” 

“I can’t abandon my friends!” Iida says, and Izuku would be very touched at his protective nature if the strange, hulking black monster hadn’t finally begun looking like it was aware, because that was bad news. 

“GO!” Izuku roars, and when his voice cracks even through the voice changer, highlighting just for a moment how desperate he is, several students start, as if jumping out a shock. 

Izuku can’t afford to wait anymore, because he’s looking down and good god, Eraserhead is fighting that crowd by himself, and the giant villain is getting to its feet. Iida finally runs out, and Izuku takes off at top speed, shooting a furious look back and screaming at the students to “KEEP HIM THERE!” praying that it’ll appeal enough to their heroic instinct enough that they won’t run into the fray. 

He is aware that if he gets free, Kurogiri will mercilessly kill them all, (A warm voice, green eyes, telling him that that man isn't who you think he is--) but he has larger problems to worry about right now. Speaking of which--- 

“Fuck you!” A villain with large muscles-- abnormally large muscles, he realizes-- punches him in the gut, and Izuku feels the breath leave him in a whoosh, but it’s also exactly what his suit needed, aptly distributing the force that would have flattened his ribcage until the suit is humming with kinetic power. 

“Thank you! Maybe later,” Izuku says, and dodges another swing so he can place his hand on the man’s shoulder, and launch himself away, down towards Eraserhead-- shit, he might have over-calculated, since now it looks like he might crash into a villain he’s fighting. 

And he does, blasting them into one of the cement walls. “Oh goodness!” Izuku says, hands flying to his face. “I hope he’s alright--!” His teeth clack together uncomfortably as another villain lands what would usually be a devastating blow on him and his suit blazes bright green. He looks to Eraserhead, who doesn’t even bother looking at him, which he supposes makes sense. “Hi! How are you?” He says to the villain sneaking up on Eraserhead before violently slamming down the back of his head until all the kinetic energy in his arm has been discharged. 

“You bitch--!” 

“Nope, we promote female rights here!” Izuku chirps happily, this time in an accent vaguely reminiscent of an American’s. It’s decidedly old lady-like, but then he gets another smack to the face and he’s back to the satan voice. 

“Who… who are you? Weren’t you with us?”

“I am everything,” Izuku says darkly, and then bursts into thirty-toned giggles as the villain’s face rapidly whitens, before shooting a fist out to sock him in the gut. “Hm… throat punches would make this fight so much easier, but I’m aiming to incapacitate, and with the force redistribution it would crush the windpipe--”

“Why are you here, Polaris?” Eraserhead asks, and it’s so very quiet. This is not the time to mumble, Izuku!  

“To save them,” Izuku answers simply, and bats away a knife that had just been thrusted at Eraserhead. “You know, you should really invest in some Kevlar or something-- I know it won’t help that much, but especially in the event of low-life thugs threatening you with a good old gun that you can’t Quirk cancel, it would--” He head-butts another villain and then clasps his head. “--ouch! It would help a lot.” 

By now he’s panting and wheezing, because wow he is out of shape, and Tanaka-sensei is going to kick his ass the next time he goes to the dojang. He really needs to stop talking, because fights are not a place to engage in the sharpening of social skills-- “Ooh, that’s a sharp knife-- Mother of All Might, that hurt-- okay, no more electricity, ahahaha,” Izuku says, and then moves to stand at Eraserheads back, feeling kind of like someone out of a really old spy movie. “Crusty-hands has a five point touch activated decay Quirk, warp-dude has been incapacitated by your students, and I don’t know what the deal with the black dude is, but he’s looking like something might happen--” He whispers as fast as possible, dimly realizing Eraserhead might not recognize the nicknames. 

“Aren’t our Quirks similar, Thirteen?” A lilting voice says, raspy and overly disgusting, and Izuku flinches, because despite the sounds of combat, jeering and knife swipes, he can hear it so clearly. “Isn’t it funny, comparing a villain and a hero?” He can’t get distracted or he’s dead, but this isn’t fair, this isn’t right-- aaand, that’s a punch to the visor, oh god. 

“They might be, but it is how the Quirk is used that makes it the difference between villainous and heroic!” Thirteen says, and they uncap their fingers. 

“No, don’t--” Izuku can’t talk, because something cold has just slapped him across the face, and damn is that a nasty Quirk. He can’t say anything, not when Shigaraki decays the back of Thirteen’s suit, not when they fall down, vulnerable, and Shigaraki jeers. 

He can’t help but be relieved that the black hulking person has stopped moving because of the distraction, and that, perhaps, hurts him the most, the relief.

What Izuku can do? Izuku can be angry.  

“Omniscience--” 

“I decked you once, I can do it again!” Izuku chirps, full of malice, as he punches Shigaraki in the throat. “Thirteen, you were supposed to protect the kids,” he hisses exasperatedly, but he knows Thirteen is more than definitely regretting their decision now anyway. 

He jumps again, with Thirteen, vaults off of writhing, moving human bodies and lands hard on the platform where the rest of class 1-A and an iceboxed Kurogiri are. 

“Keep,” Izuku wheezes, and good god he wants to take off his helmet so badly, but he can’t he has to fight he has to-- “Them safe,” he gasps out, gesturing to either the class or Thirteen, he doesn’t really know and well damn he’s really beginning to exert himself now, isn’t he? Why isn’t the giant villain coming after him, he’d seen it in other futures are they interested in him is that why oh god oh god--

“What… is that?” A tall, black-haired girl says, voice shaking, eyes wide and a hand over her mouth. Izuku turns, sees the hulking, exposed-brain… thing, because that can’t be a human, it can’t, Izuku refuses to acknowledge that evolution could be so cruel as to make someone so vulnerable, begin to move. 

“Someone throw me over to your teacher,” Izuku says, looking up frantically, because Shigaraki is monologuing, but he’s looking at Eraserhead, and why did Izuku leap away he shouldn’t have gone anywhere-- 

“You will probably be apprehended later,” Todoroki says flatly as he smashes an ice pillar into Izuku’s chest, and izuku would gasp out a sarcastic thank you if there was any air left in him, but the motion sends Izuku flailing backwards with such force he soars-- but it’s not enough because the monster is moving, and Izuku only knows that through the whispers of the In-Between, he can’t see it anymore, and Shigaraki is laughing and-- 

Take me right there, right in front of it, Izuku whispers in an unsung tongue, desperate and out of ideas, and the threads giggle with glee. 

Alright, they seem to say. Because you’ll be there anyway, hero. Izuku suddenly falls down to where they are, as if all of his momentum as been stopped, just in time-- just in time to-- 

Shit.  

Just in time for the thing to punch him in the chest, full-force. 

~~~

(When Shouta had seen Polaris land next to him, he had had to hold back a sigh-- whether it was one of relief or one of exasperation, he didn’t know. Polaris wasn’t against him, thankfully, and if they were by him that meant that his kids weren’t dead or in immediate danger. He turns away, trusting that Polaris will be able to handle the ones coming their way. 

“Hi! How are you?” They say to the villain that had been attempting to sneak up on Shouta before violently smacking down the back of his head. He tries his best to keep from feeling surprised when Polaris’s arm pulses with a strange green light and the villain is buried knee deep in concrete. A strength Quirk was useful. The way his suit glowed with it was peculiar, though.   

“You bitch--!” Another says, and Shouta wonders why Polaris’s voice keeps changing. Is it a part of their suit?

“Nope, we promote female rights here!” Polaris chirps back, and Shouta resists the urge to sigh, because they're a talker.

The fight continues on for what seems like ages. Shouta’s eyes tear up, and he resists the urge to blink, gritting his teeth against the strain. 

“Why are you here, Polaris?” Shouta finally asks, and it’s so very much quieter then he had hoped it would be. 

“To save them,” They answer, rather bluntly, and Shouta wonders why they seem so much like a Hero. 

“You know, you should really invest in some Kevlar or something-- I know it won’t help that much, but especially in the event of low-life thugs threatening you with a good old gun that you can’t Quirk cancel, it would--” Polaris head-butts another villain and then clasps their head rather comically, and Shouta resists the urge to huff, because they’re in the middle of a battle goddamnit . “--ouch! It would help a lot.” Shouta slams his capture weapon into further, long-distance villains. 

“Ooh, that’s a sharp knife-- Mother of All Might, that hurt-- okay, no more electricity, ahahaha,” Polaris says, and then moves to stand at Shouta’s back. Shouta hates that he relaxes at this, but he does. 

“Crusty-hands has a five point touch activated decay Quirk, warp-dude has been incapacitated by your students, and I don’t know what the deal with the black dude is, but he’s looking like something might happen--” Shouta pays careful attention to what they’re saying, because he doesn’t have the option to think they’re lying, he’s backed into a corner, but all of a sudden Polaris is leaping away again and Shouta is left by himself. 

“I can do this,” He murmurs, reminiscent of old days back when he had no self-confidence and Oboro, Nemuri and Hizashi were all he did have, but suddenly he feels a prickling on the back of his neck and knows something is coming. 

“Noumu. I want you to kill Omniscience,” A dry voice crackles out, and Eraserhead turns, finds himself dangerously close to their leader and that huge villain, and-- who is Omniscience? 

It only clicks together when the villain tenses up, and Shouta can follow their eyes to Polaris, and he doesn’t know what rears up within, but it takes every ounce of himself to throw a move in front of… Noumu, was it? Just to engage, and the villain is so fast, why can’t he cancel their Quirk what is going on, and it’s a horrible game of cat-and-mouse now, except Shouta is the mouse and he can’t see the cat, for all of it’s hulking muscle. 

All of a sudden, there’s a-- a shift, of sorts-- in the air and something twinges in Shouta’s gut, something that tells him something is very wrong. A moment later, there’s another command, rasped out, and Shouta can’t think because there is a fist flying at him and he can’t cancel their Quirk if he can’t see them, but now someone is standing in the way, and--

Shouta prides himself on his neutrality, his everyday deadened expressions, his ability to act logically in any given situation. 

But it isn’t every day you watch someone get a hole put through their chest.) 

TO BE CONTINUED… 

Chapter Text

~Seriously, when will Izuku catch a break?~

At first, Izuku doesn’t register the pain, wonders if the Kevlar had actually blocked this villain’s hit near completely, if the enormous thing was just for show. 

It was stupid, really, because he could see the rippling muscles on the villain. 

That didn’t make in less of a shock, though, when the burning finally registered and he looked down to see a fucking arm sticking through his torso. It was like a ring of fire was cascading over his body, and Izuku dimly realized that this was how he was going to die. 

I haven’t saved Eri yet, he thinks dimly. That single thought sparks through his very last thoughts, flooding through his fingertips as the giant, hulking nightmare pulls it’s hand out from where it had struck him like a knife. 

His suit sparks and flashes a blinding light green, and it’s all he can do to raise a shaking hand towards the villain, knock himself backwards with a single touch, before the rest of the pain overtakes him. Blood cascades down his chin, and he gives one choking cough before falling to his knees, fire consuming all of his coherent thoughts. 

(Shouta stares, horrorstuck. Class 1-A looks on in numbness, and Hitoshi wonders why it burns to watch this.)

With the last of his strength, Izuku reaches, desperately, for his Quirk. If he’s going to go out, it will be with the last familiar thing he knows, he thinks. 

You were meant to be here, the threads whisper, and as the… Noumu, it was called, stands up. Izuku wonders why a Quirk would be so eager to see it’s user’s downfall. 

...Wait.

(Shouta doesn’t see a great big flash of light, doesn’t hear a sound. All is silent as Polaris falls to their knees, a fatal wound in their chest, a single extended spear of a hand through their chest. Make a hole in his chest, the leader had crowed. 

And there is no thunder, not even when Polaris looks up, not when Shouta watches the hole appear in reverse, watch the light green of the suit glow up again, watches Polaris stand up, whole.)

Izuku stands up, stares at his shaking hands, his whole and healthy torso, his kinetically-charged suit from a split-second after Noumu had made contact, before the fatal wound, and doesn’t have time to think what the fuck, Quirk. He just stands up, looks Shit-garaki in the eye, and grins. 

“Fuck you too, Crusty.” 

It’s hard after that, with the villain called Noumu hitting him with everything it had, feeling his muscles tear apart and his bones creak at the seams. 

But his Quirk is his now-- each time, he pulls himself back to that split second, meets momentum with momentum. His suit sparks, damages, breaks, but Izuku doesn’t care because his body is just going to go back to the single moment his suit could fire back the same amount of energy, even if he can only just barely match one or two blows with Noumu. 

The rest of the world doesn’t come back with him, and neither does his mind-- his body is in an ever-moving state of change like this, ready to snap back at a moment’s notice, and it’s killing his head. 

That’s all he needs, anyway, even when blood sprays from his nose and his vision flutters with black spots. If he passes out now, it’s game over for everyone, brain damage be damned. 

“One more time,” he gasps when Noumu catches him the wrong way and his neck nearly snaps. 

“One more time,” he wheezes when Noumu goes for Eraserhead rather than Izuku. 

“One more time!” He says, definitely, when Noumu hits him a second time, cracking his ribs. 

“ONE MORE TIME!” He roars when he has to waste the energy charged up in his suit to jump in front of 1-A, whom Shigaraki had decided to target. 

All through this he rewinds, as the world gets blurrier and he realizes he’s going to die regardless, and Izuku desperately wracks his brain, trying to figure out how to deal with the villain within the call of panic panic panic in his head. At one point, Izuku ends up behind the iced over Kurogiri, and Noumu prepares to smash right on through, only stopped by Shigaraki’s hoarse bark. 

“Noumu, stop!” The villain freezes naturally quickly, immediately stopping and sliding back into a placid, unblinkingly calm state. Izuku stares, taken aback, mind turning the concept over. 

“Noumu—"

“Oy, Crust-face!” Izuku screams over whatever Shigaraki had gone to say. If he can just keep him from speaking another command--

“Wh--”

“I don’t like you!” he screams, and kicks off the Noumu as hard as he can, using the last of the fizzing energy in his legs to jump, and Shit-garaki goes to talk again, but Eraserhead's capture weapon is snapping around his mouth. Shigaraki’s hands come to the capture weapon, decaying some strands deceptively quickly, but then Izuku is there, knocking the hand off of his face, vicious and vengeful. It only takes a moment, but Shigaraki’s hand brushes Izuku’s hand, and then he falls unconscious as Izuku hisses and pulls back, hand grey. 

“Let’s rewind that,” he murmurs, and chokes on the blood congealing in his throat. 

One last time, he is whole again, except then there is a warp underneath the two of them, that meant Kurogiri got free, were the students okay, he needs to move-- he pulls himself away, just barely, falls over as his vision pulses in and out. 

There’s a bang, a noise like shattering. Kurogiri pulls Shigaraki away, but Izuku’s ears are ringing and he doesn’t know what’s going on anymore, not really. The last thing he manages to register is that they didn’t take Noumu with them through the bruised-purple warp, nor any of the small-fry villains still knocked out on the ground. Not him, either, which fills him with a worse sense of trepidation then the pulsating waves of pain in his head. 

Izuku looks to Eraserhead, still standing and still alive despite the fact that this future could have gone wrong in so many different ways, and he smiles, exhausted, as blood runs flush down his face, because this chance was one of thousands. 

The threads cackle, because there haven’t been very many futures where Izuku begins as Omniscient, not truly.

“Polaris... how did you...” Eraserhead begins, and stops, struck silent.

"I did say I was Omniscient in our last meeting, didn't I? Oh, I guess not," Izuku says, and winks even though Eraserhead can't see it, and pretends that he doesn’t have an injury that requires immediate attention, pretends he doesn’t need to see Recovery Girl, pretends everything is fine because that’s what he’s been doing since his mother --don’t think about it DON’T THINK ABOUT IT--

“Goodbye, Eraserhead,” Izuku says, clutching at his head to activate the illusion and deactivate the visor, so that he can spit out the blood he’s coughing up. He doesn't notice that the illusion flickers out halfway under his nose. 

(Eraserhead freezes, staring at the cascade dripping out of their mouth, because they need medical attention immediately.)

“Polaris--”

“No,” Izuku says, and it’s with his real voice, though Eraserhead doesn’t know that. And with that, Izuku spins around, darting out the door, past the still-crumbled gate, headlong through crowd of people until he can clamber up the roofs and stumble across, the last of his suit fading to dark green until he lands on top of the roof of Viridian, coughing and knocking over plants.

With fading strength, he deactivates the forcefield, trying to rifle through the business cards he’s stuck in the greenhouse, splattering blood across the glass. “Is there anyone…?” He squints, tries to get out his phone, coughs a bit, tries to blink blood out of his eyes. Deactivates the visor, the illusion. “Why can’t I…?”

The threads fade away, and he blacks out. 

~~~

(Shouta would have followed Polaris, had All Might not just descended, apprehended the complacent villain, had Detective Tsukauchi not come running in, had Class 1-A not run to him, crying and gesturing to Thirteen.

And so he has to testify, clarify, reassure, assess. 

And so he has to forget about the blood that had sprayed from the mist-illusion of Polaris’s face.

Hitoshi is terrified. Has been terrified since the bruised warp gate had appeared, since Polaris-- Izuku’s friend, apparently-- had appeared, fought, had gotten a hole punched through their-- no, his, Izuku had known they were a he, his-- chest, fighting off the strange blue-black villain single handedly, dying and being stitched back together again. And then All Might was there, and the villain was gone, but he couldn’t see Polaris, either. Eraserhead is swamped, and then he’s being called over for a testimony. 

“What happened?” Tsukauchi asks All Might, hushed, and Hitoshi collapses next to Uraraka-san, who gives him half of her shock blanket. They sit there, wide-eyed and absent, shivering, wondering. 

“Have you already gotten Eraser’s testimony?” All Might asks.

“Yes. Polaris isn’t on the school grounds anymore.” 

Hitoshi wasn’t wrong. They called themselves Polaris, the class whispered. Like the old vigilante my mom told me about. My dad. My parents. Like the one who faced X from Y. Who saved Z. 

Why did Izuku know him? Who was the other vigilante he'd talked about in passing? 

Iida comes over, sits down next to Hitoshi and Uraraka, stares at them.

“Are you two alright? What happened?” He asks, and Uraraka looks up at him with unseeing eyes. 

“We’re okay, Iida-kun,” She says, faintly. 

“He died,” Hitoshi says, even more quietly. Uraraka flinches. “And then he put himself together again.”

“If it weren’t for him, we’d be dead,” Iida whispers, and Hitoshi nods, once. 

“Thank god we’re okay,” Uraraka gasps out, tears shining in her eyes. “And Thirteen and Aizawa-sensei, they’ll be okay.” 

But what about Polaris? 

~~~

Hitoshi is exhausted, and he’s ready to see Izuku, take his mind off of things by just making coffee, tending to customers. 

The attack hadn’t been leaked yet, but eventually someone would find out. They’d managed to avoid a media storm, and no one knows about Polaris, but it's only a matter of time. Briefly, Hitoshi wonders what it would be like, to have such a Quirk, one that would let you die over and over again. He wonders if there's more to it, and resolves to ask Izuku at the next possible moment. 

He thinks that while Uraraka had thought it was useful, it would lead to a torturous life. 

When he finally gets to the doors of the cafe, after giving a testimony and hugging a still-teary Uraraka and getting a granola bar from a woefully underprepared Iida, he thinks he can face Izuku, tell him about everything. When he goes to peer inside, however, he’s… confused. There’s not a soul inside-- when he tugs on the door, it doesn’t open, so he has to resort to pulling out his spare key from his backpack.

The threads cackle to themselves, because if it weren’t for that key, Hitoshi and Izuku would be dead dead dead--

The cats all come running to him when he finally fumbles the door open. Hitoshi looks down, and he’s surprised, but also pleased, because the cats never usually run to him. Even Red Bean, even in her ever growing-belly glory, slinks over to him. Then they meow, and Hitoshi looks about in confusion. 

“Hello… where are your food bowls…?” Hitoshi stares, perplexed, as they circle round him and then run up the spiral staircase, towards the unlocked and open door to Izuku’s--their, now, he supposes-- apartment. “Is he upstairs?” he asks, as if the cats will understand him. 

He picks up a food bowl, and stares at it. It’s sparkling clean. When he walks up the stairs, the dust is swirling lazily through the air, but nothing's been touched since earlier. The cats keep meowing, much to Hitoshi’s chagrin. 

“What? What?” He demands of them, and then realizes they’re trying to get to the roof. 

“Oh, is that where he is?” The roof door is also still locked. 

“Sheesh, I hope he didn’t lock himself out,” Hitoshi murmurs, and then chuckles a bit when he realizes he’s feeling a semblance of normalcy. But then he opens the door, swings it wide, lets the wind hit him in the face. He’s happy, comfortable even-- but then the smell of blood comes with it, rich and tangy. Hitoshi opens his eyes, bounds out of the doorway, eyes wide. There are a few shattered pots on the ground, indicating there’s been a disturbance. 

“Izuku…?”

There’s blood splattered on the panes of the mini-greenhouse. “Hello…?” Hitoshi ducks in, straightens up, stares.

Stares at the person on the ground, Izuku on the ground, stares at the blood and the spattered business card. 

The succulent he’s picked up from the ground falls.

When it shatters, Hitoshi shouts, sharp and scared.

~~~

“Ow. Fuck.” Izuku wakes up to a throbbing pain in his forehead and groans. “Mother of Quirk Exhaustion.” 

“You’re finally awake, dipshit,” A dry voice calls out to him. It’s deep, rich, and feminine. Izuku doesn’t recognize it. Without opening his eyes, he flicks the bracelet on his wrist to transform it to his gauntlet-- even if he doesn’t have any strength or any energy left, there should be something charged left over from Noumu and the rest of the villains attacking. When there’s no follow-up attack, Izuku relaxes, and then looks down. His suit had actually deactivated when he'd gotten into the greenhouse-- thank god. 

If Hitoshi or Touya had found him like that, then-- 

Wait. Greenhouse? He'd collapsed, hadn't he? Where was everyone? Where was he?

“Who is it that I have the pleasure of meeting?” Izuku asks, squinting and sitting up. 

Strangely enough, despite the fact that he has a grade-A migraine, there’s no more blood gushing out of various orifices, or any wounds across his body, now that he’s patting himself down.

“Why’re you running around calling yourself Polaris, kid? That name’s an old name,” The voice rasps again, and it’s the last bit of riling up Izuku needs to sit himself up completely, scrubbing at his face and looking at the figure. 

“First of all, I’m not just a kid, I just fought off the entire-ass League of Villains. I really don’t need labels right now,” Izuku says, and then contemplates. “And I’m Polaris 2.0, cause the first one got brutally murdered.”

“By a villain?”

“Hero.” And then he turns, looks the woman full-on in the face. “Nice to meet you, I’m Midoriya Izuku, or, as you might recognize, Akatini Izuku.” 

The woman he’s met with is not… strange, at all. She’s got lovely curls of hair the color of orange marmalade, and her eyes are warm and amber. She’s almost deceptively plain, simply dressed. 

Then Izuku realizes he's not in his uniform. How the hell did this woman know he was Polaris?

“Well you got her damn eyes, that’s for sure. What’s the relation?” She asks, and Izuku squints at her, point-blank panic coursing through his veins. 

“How did you know?" He asks quietly, basically confirming his identity. Instead of snorting or saying something like 'I was right!', the woman merely taps her head.

"Mighty useful Quirk. You still haven't answered my question, runt."

"I’m her son,” Izuku snaps, no less wary but the beginnings of an analysis forming in his head. “And what’s it to you?”

“You can call me Sunny, green bean. You best thank your lucky stars it was warm today, otherwise you would have bled out like nobody’s business. Also should thank your… boyfriend, or cousin, or whatever,” Sunny says. 

He looks closely at her, her bright eyes, the warmth emanating from her hand, and the sun shining outside. And then at his not completely Quirk-exhausted body. Sunny. 

“Sunny… huh, healing Quirk from solar energy?” Izuku squints at her again, and her eyes widen comically before she grins, wide and brash. 

“That’s me."

"Can you see energy fields then? Auras?" Izuku blinks at her. "Or is it like statistics-- you see someone's stats and I had the same ones as Polaris?"

The woman chuckles, throwing her head back in an action that reminds Izuku of Tanaka-sensei. "You’re a smart one, aren’t you?” Izuku stays silent and waits for the explanation, and she sighs, a grin still playing on her lips regardless, small as it is. "You share fifty percent of her DNA, green bean. Plus you both have those damn shoes-- oldest Hatsume model, practically plain leather, but they're thin enough you can sail around without breaking your ankles in 'em. Would always tug people at her so they could have a nice, pretty ass-kicking with the steel toes."

Izuku blinks, and then relaxes. "You can't say anything to anyone. You realize that, right?" 

The woman snorts. "What kind of motherfucking traitor do you think I am? Selling out my former boss's kid? Sheesh, green bean. I'm wounded."

Izuku will unpack the part about the boss thing later. “I would hope you didn't,” Izuku says absently. “So… what did you say about a friend?” he asks, yawning. “Your Quirk makes me very tingly.” he mumbles, before flushing bright red. “And loose-lipped. And definitely more relaxed then I should be,” He notes, but the dawning horror at revealing his identity isn’t there. “We’re having words once this wears off, because I still don’t know who you are or how you got here.”

“Yeap, those are the drawbacks of it, unfortunately. Your purple-haired friend called me off the burner phone you had on you,” she mutters, and wow, Izuku is definitely awake now.

“Shit, Hitoshi! Where is he?” Izuku asks, jumping up and shaking his head a bit to clear the fuzzies. "Did he find out? Does he know I'm--" he looks to Sunny, suddenly horrified. 

(It isn't time yet.)

“No," she says flatly, and Izuku nearly deflates with relief, "but I wouldn't recommend wearing those boots to patrol anymore. He's downstairs.” Izuku is already skidding around the corner, throwing a thanks out and running down the stairs, repeating the mantra of if she hasn’t murdered me yet, she won’t do it now, and wondering how he should admonish Hitoshi for calling strangers off of business cards when he himself had just had a near-death experience. 

“Sunny? Is that you—?” Hitoshi’s voice calls out, and Izuku runs over, nearly frantic. He hadn’t seen him since he’d blacked out, what had happened, did he get hurt? Was everyone alright? Did they know who he was? He can’t remember--

“Hitoshi,” he says, and the way Hitoshi’s eyes widen would be funny in any other circumstance. 

“Oh thank god,” Hitoshi breathes, and Izuku slumps over, suddenly exhausted. Then, hesitantly, he pulls his arms around Hitoshi. 

“That was…” There aren’t words for it. Hitoshi flinches, and then he pulls himself out of the embrace, eyes wild and expression hurt, terrified. 

“What the hell were you doing, Izuku?!” He cries out, and despite only knowing him for a smattering of days, Izuku senses it’s one of the angriest moods he’s been in. “How the fuck did you end up so beaten up? Did someone attack you? Is the cafe okay? I just-- Izuku, how?" He stops, and Izuku is shocked to see tears welling in his eyes, feeling his stomach drop away. 

“Izuku, you were fucking bleeding from your eyes,” Hitoshi says faintly. “How did you get something like that? It was almost as bad seeing that as--” He suddenly looks green, hands coming up to hover by his mouth. "Mother of All Might, what is going on today?" He turns to Izuku. "Are-- are you sick? Why did that happen to you?" He places his hands on either side of Izuku's face, tilting his head. "Was this... was this your Quirk? Can you talk to me about it?" He asks hesitantly, and something in Izuku's gut ices over in terror. 

(He doesn't know why he has such a visceral, horribly strong reaction to people knowing. He will, soon, and the threads will torture him in the depths of the night, singsonging that ignorance is bliss, but that is neither here nor there.)

“Don’t,” Izuku breathes, a harsh and singular word as violent as he can make it sound, because suddenly he can't get enough air, he’s not ready to tell Hitoshi about his Quirk, not ready to tell Touya this new thing or Sunny or the world-- "I can't say," he chokes out, and tears fill up his eyes and flames feel like they're coming up his throat and he wants to talk so badly but he can't, he feels it in his bones as much as anything else--

"Did it hurt you?" Hitoshi presses, and Izuku nearly feels like he's drowning. 

"I'm not going to tell you," he nearly snarls, and then realizes his mistake when Hitoshi draws back like he's been slapped. "Shit, no, Hitoshi, I didn't mean it like that--"

“I came home,” Hitoshi says, voice trembling. “And I was so tired, so ready to just… see you, and the cats, and then I went to the roof and you were lying in a puddle of… of your own blood…” His voice breaks, and Izuku's throat burns. "And it was coming out of your nose and your eyes and your mouth, and all I could think was that you were dead." He sucks in a breath. "And if it wasn't a villain it was your Quirk, but I thought-- I thought you were Quirkless, or it was-- god, Izuku, I talked to you for hours, and you helped me with my Quirk, so why can't I do the same for you?" His lips trembles. 

“I’m so sorry,” Izuku whispers, and the words taste like chalk in the back of his mouth. "I can't tell you. I wish I could, and someday maybe I will be... but I just can't." He meets Hitoshi's eyes with trepidation, expecting the same anger he'd heard in his words, tears rimming his eyes. 

(And the nail comes down, driven between the immovable object and the unstoppable force.)

When he looks up, though, his gaze isn't met with betrayal, but with relief, and insurmountable worry. Hitoshi breathes out, and it's shaky, and the fight visibly drains from him and Izuku nearly collapses at the knees.

“It’s alright. You’re okay. We’re okay. Just…. Never again, Izuku. Never again.”

Izuku pauses. Did he have to lie more already?

“Yeah. Never again.” 

“...Thanks.”

“Now… I should probably go deal with the stranger downstairs…”

When Hitoshi looks up, snorting despite his too-shiny eyes, all Izuku can hear is the ringing of a whispered word, a name, over and over again.

Eri.

~~~

Excerpt from Midoriya Izuku’s Quirk Profile, Quirk Analysis Notebook #29, Ver. 5.0 :

Name: Omniscience 

Class: Emitter

• Side Note: Physical manifestations in eyes, which glow, and appearance, which can flicker through and imitate others (?)

Strengths: I will master this!

• Can travel through futures that could happen through my eyes; Under hysterical strength, can switch through multiple futures, enough that my physical appearance flickers as well

○ Practical Application: Intimidation factor? As well as observation and data-collection, but if it isn’t really my future how reliable is it?

• Can travel into a realm of half-awakeness - Present is the tangible world, while In-Between is the realm between awake and not awake-- this is where the threads are, and where the Quirk shows me the futures

○ Practical Application: Can I reach in there? Store things? Is it a real place? Can I reach out and touch the strings? Why have I never tried this before?

• Can see the possibilities of futures that are not mine; Under hysterical strength, can see small possibilities of what my future can be

○ Practical Application: Process of Elimination (if ___ isn’t here, then ___ will___.)

○ Practical Application: By examining all of the futures that were nearest to occurring at any given moment, I can put together who will appear in my future and what their abilities are

■ Side note: While the Quirks and abilities of those around me don’t change, mine as my own vary crazily, depending on which future I’m viewing.

○ Practical Application: Those who have appeared in other timelines as something concrete like Villain or Vigilante will not be the same in my future, and I can use this for deduction

■ Side note: This was wrong. Utterly, totally wrong. See ‘Todoroki Touya’ to confirm.

• Can see the possibilities of futures that ARE mine; Under medium stress, unrealistic paths will begin to move further away, and only the most likely will stay, and these futures are the ones which I believe are most likely to occur; Under hysterical strength, can see what WILL happen in my future with absolute certainty.

○ Practical Application: Figure out what is going on, obviously. 

○ Practical Application: Battle Application

■ Side Note: Huge physical drawback. Use with caution.

• Can travel back down my past and essentially re-live memories. Only tried twice-- the first trial, I only stayed long enough to confuse my mother and catch sight of my father. I do not know if it affected my past, because I travelled back to age 3 and do not recall those memories outside of my Quirk. Inconclusive Data. The second trial, I told Katsuki Bakugou (see page XXX of Quirk Analysis Notebook XX) something I’d never told him before, at seven years of age. Granted, this is a risky experiment since he hates my guts and has probably forgotten what I said if it registered at all. Nonetheless, I will probably need to get in contact with him to figure out if I can actually manipulate the past.

○ Theoretical Practical Application: Save everyone that I’ve seen be left behind in previous futures! List is in the making (See Chapter XXX of [Redacted] for XXX).

■ Side Note: Could I travel back in time and warn others of impending events? All Might hurt himself in many of the timelines I’ve watched. Could I travel through them and save the people there as well? How far back can I travel? Can I travel back to before I existed in this body? If a time traveller sent me back to before I existed, how would my Quirk react? Could I, in theory, also travel forward on paths of the future? Could I force myself into someone else’s head by finding their futures?

■ I’ve been lying here for a while, and I was just wondering... what if all of the insane paths I’ve been seeing aren’t futures, but alternate realities?

■ ...I think I’m a bit too tired.

• Can Rewind body: If I’m in an injured state, I can rewind my body (minus my mind) and pull it back to an earlier time. See Noumu incident, document III for more information. 

○ Theoretical Practical Application: I can use this to jump in front of people and save them, even when they’re at risk of dying. I have to make sure the timing is right, but otherwise, I can blink myself back and save people at critical moments. 

Drawbacks:

• Mild Quirk Overuse: Headache, not too severe
• General Quirk Overuse: Nose begins to bleed, threads leave last impressions on

vision, some dissociation

• High Quirk Overuse: Nose, eyes and mouth bleeding, headache blooms to migraine,

Present becomes flat and monochrome, general lack of apathy/numbness

• Extreme Quirk Overuse: Everything is pain. I bleed everywhere. Do not try again. Takes a cooldown period of 2-5 days, depending.
• I also, for whatever reason, seem to need less sleep and less to eat. Is it because I spend so much time gaining energy looking In-Between?
• When my Quirk is nullified, I get High Quirk Overuse symptoms, and my heart stops.

• Rewinding myself to the extent I did will eventually kill me. 

TO BE CONTINUED...

Chapter Text

~Izuku really doesn’t know what he’s doing anymore.~

(The threads are fizzing brighter then ever, and he would squint against them if his eyes weren’t already closed. More so then before, he looks around and sees millions of possibilities, and then a violet string so very close to three of his future paths that he has to look at it, because that violet string splits off into millions of different possibilities, like a great big forest.

Maybe he should stop comparing them to threads, because it’s like he’s walking through a forest, all spun string and thick ropes of energy. Something’s wrong, when he gets near the violet string, something that reeks of pain and suffering, but Izuku can’t get close enough to find out, can’t explore, can’t walk in this strange mind realm, so what is he--)

“Oh.” It takes a moment before Izuku realizes where he is, registers his bed and the dust swirling lazily through the air. The days have steadily been getting longer, and he’s not surprised that the sun is up already. 

What he is surprised about is that Hitoshi isn’t moving from the other room, and he doesn’t hear any cats, either. 

“Sheesh, talk about betrayal,” He mutters as he gets up, stretches, looks about. 

Out of habit, he activates the Polaris suit once, twice, flicking his wrists and tapping the necklace, throwing the visor at his face. It’s a strange piece of technology, really, since the visor really only goes over his eyes, but the suit goes around his head and over his mouth. And yet, if he wants to free his mouth or cast the jade-mist illusion, he can do so nearly just by thinking. 

“It’s… probably made by Hatsume Studios,” Izuku thinks, yawning and deactivating the suit. Today is… a Wednesday? A Thursday? A… Tuesday? All Izuku can think about is how much he wants the day to be over, and that really isn’t so helpful at all.

Yesterday had been (you almost died, you almost joined your mother, you coward you weak and useless--) 

“Let’s make muffins!” Izuku says brightly, so brightly that it could be considered a shout, because if he doesn’t talk aloud he might just forget how to speak altogether. 

Making muffins is relatively easy-- you only need basic ingredients, and they’re easy to substitute, make healthy, or super-sweet, or chocolatey or salty or bacon-flavored, and now he’s making egg bagels and where did the time go? Izuku watches the security shutters rise-- look now, it’s 6. He definitely should reset those so that they rose at 6:30, but that would mean he had to open at 7, which... is a reasonable time, isn’t it? 

Izuku finds himself scrawling out the 6 o’clock start time and replacing it with a 7 on the door, despite the fact that his fingers itch to flick on the open sign and get ready to rumble, anything to keep his mind off of the fact that he’d ( you almost condemned them all, you useless good-for-nothing failure, Izuku why would you hurt your Mama like th--) 

“Ouch!” Izuku finds that he’s burned himself on the oven. How he got to the oven, or filled the muffin tray, he has no idea. He should maybe get this whole Quirk Exhaustion thing checked out, but that would mean leaving, and leaving is a no-go for Izuku, especially when (They knew who Polaris was now, Omniscience wasn’t Omniscient anymore, what are they going to do to you, you saw the dreams you SAW ERI--) he risked being found out. 

Izuku reaches into the In-Between, his eyes half-closed as he fumbles with the oven door, watches himself revert the burn on his hand. The threads around him burn brightly, and all of a sudden he can see his hand, transparent like glass, filled with sparks of countless futures and timelines, little variations of color, leftover traces of futures that would-have-been, could-have-been, will-never-be. 

Izuku turns about, moving in his mind’s eye, staring, astounded. It’s beautiful here-- the strings go up and up and up until they’re fine points, but they also go down and down and down, and if Izuku wants to see the pasts around him he’d have to drown himself in the threads down below, because he knows eventually they’ll all coalesce into one large timeline, millions and millions of years back, and it will all just be one thing, but he can never go back there, never. 

Cautiously, he floats about, looks around, wonders how he’s never seen the beauty in this place. Can he go further? Can he fly out? Can he swim through and touch each thread? 

When he makes to grab one protruding from his chest, there’s a dizzying sense of tingling, and inexplicably he knows that this is a snapped thread, the one that would have happened it Hitoshi hadn’t had his spare key with him, if Izuku had bled out or Sunny was busy and… wow, Hitoshi finding him alive had been a minority thread, hadn’t he? Him getting there in time was purely… Fate. 

At this revelation, something in Izuku gets distinctly nauseous, and he begins to try to come back to awareness, half In-Between and half outside it, because oh god his Quirk is very exhausting right now.  

“Izu...ku…?” There’s a tired mumbling from behind him, and Izuku tries to spin around, but instead he just spins too violently In-Between and his view of the outside world becomes nada once again. 

(If he had been in the right state of mind, he would have seen the deep bags under Hitoshi’s eyes, even more so then the day before, poorly concealed. Hitoshi hadn’t slept, not well, if at all, but Izuku will jokingly lord the fact that he woke up before Hitoshi today, and Hitoshi will go along with it. 

It is often difficult to speak of nightmares.)

“Goddamnit!” He hisses, and then feels himself losing balance, but not In-Between, and this is such a strange feeling, why does Izuku have to suffer through this?

“What the--!” Izuku finally feels his legs go snickety-snack we’re going to crack and then he swings wildly to the side. Please don’t let this be how it feels to be drunk, he thinks hysterically, because he has a feeling he’s going to end up in a lot of bars as Polaris, and no it’s not just the threads he can see by him, it’s a feeling inside, mother of All Might he is still falling over--

“Eh?” He blinks, and wow, there’s the real world, but only for a split-second because he is beyond confused in the In-Between, why is his Quirk like this?  

The response he has gets stuck in his throat, because now there’s a thread humming quietly, something lime green and kind of ugly, if Izuku’s being honest, but it’s thin and graceful, in two senses, and it’s glowing, which is always a nice addition to make things prettier then they actually seem.

It’s been twisted and knotted several times, hardships pulling it taut, but when Izuku looks at it and the large braid of Alternate Future it makes up, he realizes it’s Hitoshi, and wow, is this what happens when he searches for someone? Do they light up in every future? 

Of course, now that Izuku wants to check, the In-Between is fading out and he hasn’t gotten any actual, concrete results, but on the other hand he is getting his normal vision back, so yay!

And then he comes nose to nose with Hitoshi, and all he can think is, well, not yay.  

I mean, don’t get him wrong, Hitoshi is very pretty up close, but at the same time this is a very awkward situation for Izuku to be in, because it seems that when Izuku’s legs had conceded defeat, Hitoshi had caught him. 

“Sorry!” He says, springing up, relieved to find that he’s somehow recovered his mysterious lack of balance from a few seconds prior, and Hitoshi blinks as if in a daze. “So very sorry.” 

“I…” Words seem to have evaded Hitoshi, but now he’s turning redder, so Izuku thinks this has been a splendid wake-up call for the both of them. “You have really weird eyes.” 

This, strangely enough, hurts Izuku more then thought it would. 

“Are they really that weird?” He asks, pouting, and then Hitoshi’s hands are flying up. 

“No, wait, not like that! They’re very pretty!” He stutters, and Izuku didn’t think he could get redder but the back of Hitoshi’s neck is lighting up pink so maybe it’s worth the misunderstanding and the obvious confusion Izuku is feeling. 

“They’re kind of… cool,” Hitoshi mumbles. "But you looked really spaced out for a second. Are you okay?" 

Izuku nearly brings up his Quirk, painfully reminded of the mindless hours spent theorizing with his mom, until he realizes that it'd been the cause of an argument yesterday and if the threads were to be believed...

(Yes, they hiss. Go on, tell him. It'll kill them all.)

“Huh!” Izuku says, hand to his chin. "I guess I'm just tired from yesterday..."

"Do you think that woman's Quirk from yesterday was like Recovery Girl's?" 

"How so?" Izuku asks absentmindedly. 

"You think it sapped your stamina?" Hitoshi says, leaning over to inspect the oven. Izuku nods halfheartedly. 

"Maybe." Internally, he's a hundred years away, thinking of his eyes. Were they the only thing that changed when he was In-Between? What if he stepped in fully? Was he there or not?

Did his eyes glow?

(Don’t think about it don’t think about it-- Mama, looking at him a bit too long, eyes lingering on his. He can hear her breath catch from the front seat, and he looks towards her, but she’s looking back at the road, as if she’s caught herself. The next time Izuku looks in a mirror, mid-morning sun shining through his eyes, he maybe understands why Mama had looked at him so strangely, because there’s a something in his green eyes that isn’t in Mama’s--)

“Izuku? Izuku.” Distantly, he realizes he’s being shaken, and that he should probably get back to wherever he was before.

“...Yeah. Sorry.” Izuku’s not quite sure what he’s apologizing for at this point, but it could honestly be for anything. 

“You… alright?” Hitoshi asks, embarrassment forgotten and replaced by worry. 

“Mmmhm. I think yesterday was a bit much…” 

(He fails to notice the way Hitoshi’s eyes darken.)

“I know, and I didn't even tell you about my half of the day..." Hitoshi says, running his hands through his hair. “We are having words after school today, you hear me?” He says, and Izuku has to hold back another hysterical urge to giggle. 

“Totally! Muffins now, talk later,” He says, and Hitoshi seems to register the beeping of the oven and sets down his coffee mug to grab a pair of gloves. 

“When do you have time for this?” He asks, and Izuku makes a noise that isn’t quite an answer so much as it’s a wordless deflection. “Right, dumb question. What were you doing?” He asks as Izuku pours a copious amount of chocolate chips into the next batch of muffins he’s making. 

“Dissociating,” Izuku says with a chuckle. "Could have sworn I hallucinated blood..." He winces when the tray Hitoshi’s holding clatters onto the countertop, thankfully landing faceup. "Too soon?" he asks, another half-hysterical giggle leaving his lips. Why was he like this?

"Maybe," Hitoshi says faintly, and great. Now it's awkward again. "I'm... gonna go to the bathroom." 

"Be sure to brush your teeth!" Izuku calls after him, totally not mother-henning, and then stares at the tray in his hands. 

“Then the In-Between is a real place…” Izuku murmurs, closing his eyes. He thinks back to a few days ago, when he'd realized there were those spiderweb-thin blades of thread, of future and present and possibility. 

He also realizes he maybe needs to sit down, because what does that mean? Surely his Quirk can’t have predicted every possible facet of the present? 

(The threads whisper against one another, and a past thread showing his thought process glimmers among the hundreds of larger threads. Izuku hasn’t, in fact, discovered he is in a web rather then a room-- he’s caught in hundreds of millions of minutes, hours, years.) 

Izuku falls through to the In-Between, watching the glitter of threads connect and he’s left to look about again. “If I learnt to knit, would anything happen when I moved these?” Izuku wonders, but he really can’t touch the strings, try as he might. 

So perhaps that information is useless. Then he comes back to reality, swaying gently and wrinkling his forehead. Maybe he shouldn’t use his Quirk for a bit. He absentmindedly grabs a muffin, stares at it. 

If the In-Between was a different place, could he bring things there with him?

He taps the muffin once, for good luck, before pulling himself along the threads, mind’s eye popping open to his body inside the Quirk room. “Well this doesn’t usually happen-- ooh, I can talk in here!” He says, before pitching the muffin as far as he can through the threads. 

Much to his amusement, the muffin gets shredded as it passes over threads, although he can’t tell if that happened because of his Quirk or because his inner subconscious wanted it to. Then he snaps his eyes open, tries to hold off the headache that comes with seeing two sets of images, and throws a haphazard thumbs-up at his reflection in the fridge before going back to the In-Between and envisioning calling back the muffin. 

When he opens his eyes to reality again, it’s to hands full of chunks of muffin, neatly lasered apart by the threads. He stares and then he starts giggling. Hitoshi walks back into the room, conveniently times-- (Izuku doesn't know that the threads manipulate, they pull and they change to his every single whim, and he'll cry and he'll sob and he'll laugh when he finds out because a puppetteer and a puppet he is twice over--)

“Do I want to know where that’s been?” Hitoshi asks cautiously, staring at the muffin pieces, and Izuku shoots him a winning smile that quickly wanes into a sly smirk. 

“Oh, you know. Inside of me.” He pops a piece into his mouth and Hitoshi makes an audible noise of disgust.

"Did you just put like... chunks of muffin in the toaster? Why?"

“What, you want one?” Izuku deflects. He's totally good at this and not sweating right now, no siree. Hitoshi seems like he’s about to refuse, but then he takes a good look at the charred muffin bits and shrugs, taking one with two fingers. 

“If I die, it’ll be your fault.”

“Well, I’ll at least have custody of the cats.”

“And you’ll be free to marry Mr. Todoroki himself, you lucky bastard,” Hitoshi says, clutching his chest and sniffing loudly. “And I’ll be all by my lonesome in Hell.” 

“What do you want at your funeral?” Izuku says drily, and Hitoshi pretends to ponder it. 

“Black Roses and MCR, please.” He says after approximately two seconds, and at that Izuku bursts into giggles. 

“Of course you’re one of those teenagers,” He says snootily, and Hitoshi quirks an (haha, Quirks) eyebrow at him in distaste. 

“How dare you assume my stereotype,” He says in a falsetto, and then Izuku’s choking on a piece of charred mind-toaster-muffin and he thinks his brain might be melting. Once he’s done gasping for air and has chugged a copious amount of iced tea (god, Hitoshi loved the stuff), he points a shaky hand towards the clock. 

“Shouldn’t you get to school soon?” Izuku asks, and Hitoshi goes rigid before he can calm his expression. 

“Aha. Yeah, probably…”

Izuku can’t miss the mile-wide flinch, nor the obvious discomfort that comes after. 

“Are you afraid?” He asks, pulling what he hopes is a sympathetic face. “Oh, come on. They’re all okay, aren’t they?” Hitoshi sighs. “It won’t hurt to go to school.”

“Sheesh, you can read me like a book.” 

“Yeah, you know what they say,” Izuku says, quirking a smirk. “Love is an open book~”

Hitoshi screws his face up into an expression of vivid disgust. “Isn’t it ‘love is an open door’? And it’s bold of you to assume I love you!” He says, voice going deeper and deeper, as if he’s reaching to imitate someone.

“Wow. How cold.” Izuku tries to mimic Eraserheads flat tone of voice as best as he can, but it waver in his attempts to keep from laughing. And then he flutters his eyelashes. “But you do wuv me, don’t you, Hitooooo-chan?” He’s not quite sure who he’s imitating now. 

Watching the crimson spread from Hitoshi’s neck to his cheeks is worth all of the regret he feels at that statement. 

“...Can you come with me?” Hitoshi asks after a moment of hesitation, and Izuku has to reboot for a second before he realizes what he’s asking. 

“To UA?” 

Hitoshi nods. 

“I don’t want what happened yesterday and the day before to… uh… happen again,” He says sheepishly. 

“Sure! I changed the opening time anyway, so it’ll be okay!” Izuku says cheerfully, and tries to hold back the mildly sinister grin tugging at his lips. 

“Thank god,” Hitoshi says, sighing, and all of a sudden the tease on Izuku’s lips is shrivelling up, because he can’t tease someone that honest, can he? 

“Mind taking the last batch out?” Izuku asks, and Hitoshi opens his mouth to ask what batch as the oven beeps again, only to school his face into something flat. 

“Are you psychic?” He asks, and Izuku snorts against the rush of fear in his head. 

“You’ll never know!”

~~~

Walking to school this time around is a quiet affair-- Hitoshi doesn’t have anything to bubble about, somber for all the right reasons, and Izuku doesn’t have anything else to add that wouldn’t risk his identity. 

He can see the burning questions in Hitoshi’s eyes, but he can also deflect them for as long as possible, right? Hitoshi quietly chows down on another experimental breakfast muffin as they round the corner to UA, and only looks at Izuku when he starts giggling, only making a questioning noise when he sees the (utterly manic, definitely deranged) glint in Izuku’s eyes. 

“Hut hives? (What gives?)” He asks, and Izuku scrunches his nose at the crumbs that come flying out of his mouth. 

“You’re going to choke like that, you know.” 

“Pho? (So?)”

“If you die because you choked I’m going to get someone to revive you and then I’m going to kill you again.” 

(For a brief moment, Izuku considers the bitter irony of the statement— if he really wanted to, he could do just that.) 

Hitoshi glares at him, but swallows this time around. “Why are you laughing like that?” 

“Oh, you know,” Izuku says, trying his best not to break down right then and there. “I’m going to try something that may or may not get me killed.”

Hitoshi inhales some crumbs, and Izuku snorts, because he saw that coming. 

“What do you mean, get you killed?!” Hitoshi wheezes out. 

“I’m going to get into UA!” Izuku says, grinning, because he needs to get inside UA to drop off the analyses, especially for what was coming. But he can't give it through Hitoshi, so... 

“...how?” Hitoshi’s eyelid is twitching, strangely reminiscent of Detective Tsukauchi. 

“By the front door,” Izuku says, and just grins wider when Hitoshi chokes again. 

“I’m… not understanding. Why? Are you enrolled here, and you just neglected to tell me that you can clone yourself or something?” 

(Not in this universe, Izuku thinks, and isn’t that a knee-slapper, the whole knowing-things-before-knowing-them thing.) 

“Nope!” Izuku says, reveling in the utterly confounded look he is given. 

“Then how…”

“We’re here!” Izuku says, giggling, and pulls Hitoshi into a side alley. “This is super reckless, but that's okay!" 

“What do you--”

The alley is filled with the sounds of Izuku cackling as he eyeballs a fire escape and launches himself at it, and neatly scrambles up the walls until he’s on the roof of an apartment building. 

“But… me… how?” Hitoshi looks up at him, and Izuku remembers that right, Hitoshi doesn’t do parkour. 

“We’ll have to fix that ASAP!” he says brightly, and then jumps back down. Hitoshi’s yelp is only cut off by the crunch of Izuku's kneecaps, and then a louder yelp as Izuku swiftly hoists Hitoshi up over his shoulder and jumps back up onto the fire escape.

This has originally been an attempt to cheer Hitoshi up, but now that he had realized he couldn't transform into Polaris here and Hitoshi couldn't do parkour, his enthusiasm falls a bit flat. And then he’s placing Hitoshi down on the roof. 

“Whuh--”

“That wasn’t so bad, now was it?” Izuku asks, smiling cheerily. 

“I… I guess not?”

“We’re definitely visiting the parkour gym tonight, though. Especially after what… happened.” The mood dims, and Izuku curses his slippery tongue. 

“That makes sense,” Hitoshi says, a small twist to his lips. “But how do we get to UA from… up here?” 

“Oh! We run!” 

“...Please tell me you don’t mean across the roofs, Izuku." 

“It’s… not that strenuous, I promise!” 

“Izuku,” Hitoshi hisses, and Izuku chuckles as he clicks his voice-changer on. 

“Let’s go, buckaroo!” He says, in an exaggerated Present-Mic voice, and Hitoshi facepalms right in front of him. “Oy.” 

“No, don’t you dare use an Eraserhead impression against me like that, you asshole--”

“Catch me if you can!”

“Oh, you little shit--”

~~~

When they finally make it to a roof right near UA, huffing and puffing, Hitoshi bends over double and wheezes, somehow still managing an effective glare at Izuku. He'd only nearly fallen once, because all of the buildings were nice and close together. Thanks, Izuku's Quirk, for actually being useful for once. 

“Ta-da!” Izuku says with no small amount of glee. This is too much fun, but Hitoshi… really needs to get in shape. 

“Now how… are we… supposed… to get down, genius?” Hitoshi pants out, and Izuku looks about, noting the sudden lack of fire escapes. “Isn’t this… really… risky?” 

“Hmmm… is this illegal? Only if we don't get caught, right?” He doesn’t elaborate, and Hitoshi just continues to glower at him. God, the adrenaline pumping through his veins is amazing.  

“...You’re really damn reckless for a barista, you know that?” Hitoshi asks. 

“Reckless is an apt descriptor, I guess…”

“Defi...nitely.” Hitoshi pants. Izuku looks around, finally spies a fire escape. 

“You think you can get down there?” He asks, cocking his head as Hitoshi appraises the jump. 

“...Maybe.” 

“Then I'll help!” Izuku grabs Hitoshi's arm and squeezes tight. "Let's jump on three!"

"Wait--"

"Three!"

“Mother of All Might!” Hitoshi squeaks when they land, the impact definitely taking out Izuku’s knees. Sure, it hurts, but he can easily rewind the injury to a few moments prior, and then he’ll be good to go. Hitoshi walks a few paces shakily, but then straightens up. 

“Alright. Just two normal students… one who doesn’t go to UA, the other who probably should have gotten therapy today… this is fine.”

“That’s the spirit!”

“I hate you.”

The UA barrier is a peculiar thing-- it will slam together when people who aren’t authorized or registered try to walk in, and it’s newly-repaired thanks to Cementoss-sensei and Shit-garaki being a general menace. Dare he say it’s even more accurate now? 

That’s why Izuku wants to try and walk through, as stupid as it is. Maybe he can dive through before it slams up on him? Will it actually crush him? Surely UA’s technology is advanced enough it won’t crush someone. 

(He doesn't say to Hitoshi he needs the information, of course, but he does.)

It’s just a wall, anyway. 

“Ready for school, Hitocchan?” Izuku chirps, grinning at him, ready to step through the barrier, when--

“Shinsou-kun, is that you?” A loud and rather enthusiastic voice calls out, and Izuku blinks, before smirking.

“Oh? My little Hito-chan has ladyfriends?” 

Completely deadpan, Hitoshi punches Izuku full-force, turning around to greet a short, rosy-cheeked girl with brown hair. Uraraka-san, his many timelines tell him as he doubles over, wheezing. 

“Hi! I can recognize that purple hair from miles away, haha!” Uraraka says, and Izuku straightens up with a wince. 

“Hito-chan, that was so mean!” He gasps, clutching his solar plexus, and then he sweetens his voice. “But you have been getting stronger--”

“Izuku, so help me, I will punch you again,” Hitoshi seethes, and Uraraka looks faintly amused now. 

“Whoa, who is this, Shinsou-kun?”

“You mean you don’t recognize me?” Izuku asks, and breathes a sigh of relief, but at that Uraraka’s eyes light up in--oh, joy--recognition. 

“Are you the guy Shinsou-kun called in the middle of class?” Izuku turns to look at Hitoshi, who seems to sweat profusely under his gaze. 

“Middle of class, huh?”

“Shut up,” Hitoshi grumbles, but it lacks venom, and Uraraka giggles. 

“Nice to meet you! Midoriya Izuku,” Izuku says, sticking his hand out. He contemplates asking her to call him his first name, but there are too many futures where she rejects the idea, and Midoriya just sounds so weird coming out of her mouth that he doesn’t want to jeopardize his chances of asking to go by first-name basis later on. 

(He ignores the threads that hiss certain death for her if he doesn't intervene. He's saved her life once, already.)

“I’m Uraraka Ochako!” She beams, and Izuku feels his heart squeeze. 

“Nice to meet you, Uraraka-chan!” Izuku says, beaming, and Ochako-- Uraraka, now, the name fitting together with many other timelines much better-- turns a pleasant shade of pink. 

“Chan…?” She mumbles. 

“Huh, not first name basis?” Hitoshi mutters, a distinct smirk to his lips. 

“Eh? Are you smug, Hito-chan?” 

“No.” 

“Ah, my heart!” 

“You guys are close, aren’t you?” Uraraka says, giggling and falling into step with them. 

“Kind of!” 

“Do you go to UA too, Midoriya-kun?” Uraraka skips along, and Izuku beams at her. 

“Nope!” Just as her mouth forms into an ‘o’ of confusion, Iida Tenya speed-walks by them, a clear expression of alarm on his face. “Morning, Iida-kun!” Izuku screams after the racing cloud of dust, and a moment later Iida is speed walking back towards them, because it would obviously be unacceptable to run, but if Izuku remembers (isn’t that funny, remembering things that haven’t yet happened) that Tenya is rather persistent about being on time. 

“Greetings, Midoriya-kun, Shinsou-kun, Uraraka-san! We should hurry to class!”

Izuku walks right under the gate with the three of them, and none of them notice for a moment, because Izuku is making a joke. Non-descript chatter occupies their heads for a few minutes.

“What class are you in, Midoriya-kun?” Iida asks.

“I don’t go to this school, Iida-kun!” Izuku says, giggling, and there’s a moment of silence when he looks up and then wheels around, looking back. 

“Then…” Iida looks confused, but Izuku doesn’t blame him. 

“...how did you get in here, Midoriya-kun?” Uraraka asks, a mite bit wary. 

“Hito-chan, it worked,” Izuku says in disbelief. He doesn’t know how he managed to pass through the gate-- and actually, that’s a lie, he’d been cradling all of the futures/alternate presents that had him enrolled in UA all morning, but he didn’t expect them to carry over to his actual sense of identity. 

“You’re… you just walked in…?” Hitoshi says, looking at the gate. 

“But the gate just got repaired…”

“Whoa! Are you coming to our class, Midoriya-kun?” Uraraka asks, all bubbles, and Izuku grins, something sharp and steel in the way he grits his teeth. 

“I’m just coming to drop off some information, no biggie!” When he smiles, it’s all teeth, and he swears Iida squints, as if he is being blinded. Izuku can’t imagine why, though. It had been his original plan, since Hitoshi was terrified of any kind of confrontation with Eraserhead that could paint him in a bad light. 

Casually, he walks through the walls of UA, and everyone stares at him as he passes, in jeans and a black tee amongst a sea of special uniforms. “This is… amazing!” Izuku says, gasping and looking about. “You all are in class 1-A, yes?!” 

“Yes! We are very early, Midoriya-kun, which is the perfect time to get to class! You should always be ten minutes early to everything, that’s the Ingenium motto!” 

Absentmindedly, Izuku thinks of Tensei and wonders if Iida’s just making that up-- Tensei never seems to look pressed for time. 

“That’s awesome! You’ll all be amazing heroes, I’m sure of it!” Izuku says, before stopping in front of the huge doors of 1-A. “Whoa."  

(All Might had stepped through these doors. So had Endeavor, and Miruko, and so many others.) 

When Iida pushes the door open, Izuku finds himself beyond relieved at the absence of a certain gruff voice he’d realized was… well, Kacchan’s. He looks about at the smattering of students, and decides he’d best not bother any of them. 

“Eraserhead, are you in there?” Izuku croons as he swings through, and then the rest of the students look up, and whoops, he supposes he’s made an entrance he likely could have avoided. 

Eraserhead looks up in all his sleeping-bagged glory, and Izuku has a small freak-out that they have the same brand of sleeping bag before Eraserheads eyes widen marginally and he squints at Izuku. 

“How did you get here, kid?” 

“Uh… Nedzu?” Izuku tries, and nothing immediately smites him, so he supposes the principal is letting him off the hook. 

(Poor, naïve Izuku.) 

“Alright. Why are you here?” Murmurs are starting to spring up, and while Izuku does feel more then a little bit of pride at how often Viridian is mentioned, he’s beginning to hear barista far too often. 

“Polaris!” At that, Eraserheads expression changes minutely, and the kids in 1-A go from murmuring to an all out uproar. 

“You know Polaris?”

“Can you give them my thanks?”

“Shinsou, do you know this guy?”

“Can I see them?”

“Polaris saved my life!” 

“Quiet,” Eraserhead says, and it falls silent so quickly you’d think he’d activated his Quirk. Heh. 

“Sheesh, Eraserhead, what did you do to these kids?” Izuku says, and the appraising look Eraserhead is now giving him freaks him out just a bit. Maybe that was too much sass.

“Anyway! Polaris says hi, but he really just wanted you to know this is his friend's analysis, and he hopes you'll utilize it. He does really hate when people don't use their power to the fullest,” he says, frowning and trying not to look like a total hypocrite. "He also said that for credibility's sake, I should try and deliver this in person? I mean, the analyst came up with a theory on how I could get here, and it worked just fine... most of it was conjecture, though!" He blinks and smiles, trying to look the most innocent he possibly can. "And the gate just let me right through! Didn’t you guys repair it? Hasn’t it been long enough for a system reset?”

“You do know Polaris.” Is Eraserhead’s absolutely thrilling contribution to the conversation. 

Distant cursing, stomping footsteps. Things that shouldn’t be so familiar, but are. 

“Yes!” Izuku throws his hands up, and then realizes that he might be being rude right now, in the midst of his panicking. “Yes, sir, yes I do! And here’s the analysis. That’s all.” His eyelid twitches, and Izuku can hear distant yelling, which means Kacchan is coming and holy hell he has to gO-- “Okay, goodbye! Have a good day Hito-chan, I’m leaving now!”

With that dignified goodbye, Izuku bolts, sprinting down the hallway he went through and hurtling out of the doors to Iida’s shouted exclamations that running is immoral in a school as sacred as UA. 

(Later, Shouta will retreat to the principal's office, if only because curiosity is burning him up. When he raises his hand to knock on Nedzu’s door, there’s already a soft greeting before his knuckles touch the wood.

It is but one small miracle performed in a world of them, and Shouta doesn’t take much notice of it anymore.

“Come in,” Nedzu says, and there’s a steaming cup of tea on the coffee table, as well as a printed version of the analysis the young boy had brought in this morning. 

Nedzu knows Shouta doesn’t like tea, but he also knows Shouta won’t disobey him, and so he sits down and drinks the tea. 

“So, the child?” Shouta asks as soon as he’s swallowed whatever it is Nedzu has given him-- it’s not entirely bad, if he’s being completely honest. Nezdu smiles, and sips his own tea. 

“He’s not registered in our database,” Nedzu says, quietly. “But the gate recognized him. Somehow.”

“It’s not the fact that he was with other students?"

“No, no. The sensors, they, well.” Nedzu strolls over to the computer, hops a little to sit on the stool. “Let me show you.”

Shouta stares intently, watching as a replay of Midoriya Izuku [friend of Polaris, of a good quarter of his class, and for all intents and purposes a genius, if his analysis was anything to go by] strolls through the gates with three of his students. 

And then the notification that pops up, a neat page in the UA database that specifies several… diagnostics, and a profile on one Midoriya Izuku. 

“...How is this possible?” Shouta asks, staring at the error message under Quirk Registration and Graduation Date. 

“I have no idea!” Nedzu says, smiling cheerily. “But I designed the system to pick up even time-travellers and illusions of students, so I trust myself, and I intend to find out.” 

"He said that an... analyst, someone working with Polaris, told him how to theoretically get inside." 

Nedzu's eyes shine. "Well that... is certainly very interesting." 

"He also handed this over." Shouta drops the hard drive into the palm of the other man's--[dog-bear-mouse?]-- paw[?]. Nedzu looks down at it and then unceremoniously plugs it into his computer. Shouta wonders, for an instant, if he had even bothered to check fro viruses, but then Nedzu is unplugging it and handing it over, a small smile on his face. 

"You should show this to the other teachers," he says in that ever-cheerful tone of his. "It's far more helpful then harmful!"

With that, Shouta is kicked out of the principal’s office and retreats to the teacher’s lounge, where he sits in contemplative silence for several minutes, before-- 

“Everyone, I have something to share with you. It’s… an analysis.” He stands, plugs the flash drive into the communal laptop, and walks to sit at the edge of the room, by a deflated All Might. He blinks at the signature in the file name. 

Deku. Useless? That was certainly something to remember. Why would an analyst call themselves useless? 

Watching amazement spread over the Symbol of Peace’s face is quite the bizarre feeling, but Shouta finds he doesn’t hate it, even if it does distract him from his previous train of thought.) 

~~~

“--Made it!” Izuku wheezes to himself, unlocking the door to the cafe and feebly stumbling in. 

The cats crowd around him, eager for attention. Red Bean flops over on the beanbag he has in the corner of the cafe, and Izuku busies himself by grabbing another sack of coffee beans, hissing his breath through his teeth. Tanaka-sensei or not, he was still getting a workout.

When the coffee machines are chuffing happily, the muffins are set out, and Izuku’s cracked open the chocolate cakes he’d spent approximately three hours making last night (early in the morning? Nightmares couldn’t hold him back.) and stuck them into the refrigerated display, he straightens up and wipes sweat off his brow, watching the sun shine prettily through the windows. 

In quiet moments like these, it’s as if he’s in a different world, in not the In-Between but not quite in reality, either. 

Then there’s a knock on the glass, and Izuku turns to see Touya, Illusion Quirk effects still holding strong, and a wide grin stretches his lips near-taut. 

“Good morning!” When he walks up to Touya, it’s with a spare key. He offers it, and Touya’s eyes widen. 

“Kid… I’m a part-timer with a bad history of theft. Why’re you…?”

“You work here now!” Izuku beams. “The key works upstairs too, if you were wondering. If you need a place to crash, I’m here!” Touya opens his mouth, and then closes it again, looking the closest to emotional Izuku‘s ever seen him, but it’s just a spare key, so Izuku isn’t really sure why he’s freaking out so badly. 

(Touya himself is thinking about the key his dearest sister had given him all those years ago, the one that hangs on a chain around his neck, the promise to come back he still hasn’t made good on after so long.

But Izuku doesn’t know that, won’t know that yet.

Perhaps won't get to know that at all.)

And then Touya’s softened smile moves into his trademark smirk. 

“Am I going to be interrupting you and Hito-chaaaan?” He drawls, drawing his voice up into a falsetto for the last word that Izuku thinks may be in mockery of his own voice. 

“Interrupting us how?” Izuku asks, blinking, confused. And then he gets it. “HEY!”

Early commuters begin to trickle in, and Izuku smiles at them all. “Sorry for opening up so late!” he chirps occasionally, as Touya puts on his apron and begins firing up a few more of the machines. 

“Morning, Midoriya-kun!” A slightly older man in business attire greets him and Izuku smiles back a hair more genuinely then usual. Daichi-san was a man who had come to the cafe since Izuku and his mama had first opened it up, and his orders changed daily, depending on what he wanted to sample. He didn’t come often, but when he did it was always to order the newest things off the menu. 

“Morning, Daichi-san!”

“I suppose I’ll have one of your bacon muffins and an… er… well, a fruit tea really isn’t compatible with that, is it…” The man takes a hard moment to squint at the menu, and Izuku has to hold back a giggle. 

“Just tell me when you’re ready!”

“Oy, kiddo.” 

“Yes?” Izuku turns around to see Touya squinting at the recipe for a… “Oh, you want to learn how to make a macchiato?” Izuku asks, suddenly full of excitement. 

“Is that what this is…? The foam things look pretty complicated…” Touya mutters, and Izuku rushes about to show him what’s necessary. 

“Yeah, but if you can make this, you can make any drink with designs here! You just need a steady hand, don’t worry!” Izuku has loved drawing designs into lattes and macchiatos for a long while, even if he couldn’t do it very well yet. 

“Well… alright.” 

“I trust you know what to do with the rest of it, right?” Izuku asks before turning around, as Daichi-san seemed to finally have made up his mind, and Touya had been figuring out how to use the coffee machines for a good long while now. 

“Okay! I think I know what I want now!” Daichi-san says, just as three others walk into the coffeeshop. Izuku sweat drops, turns back to Touya, and tells him his macchiato attempts may be held back. 

~~~

“Is it just me, or has it been getting… busier, lately?” Izuku mutters in a lull of time, in the midst of preparing an espresso. They were deceptively easy to make-- it was only once people started asking for add-ons that it got annoying. 

Touya looks up, slightly cross-eyed from his seventh attempt at making salvageable latte art, but he still seems coherent enough to process Izuku’s question. 

“It has. Although I’m not surprised.” Izuku quirks (haHA I will never get tired of using that) an eyebrow up in confusion.