Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"You damn nerd! What the hell are you doing here?”

Before Izuku could answer, a tall, blue haired boy cut in, his arms making strange chopping motions to accentuate his speech. 

"Bakugou-kun, this is very unseemly behaviour! If you had listened to Aizawa-sensei you would know this is Midoriya-sensei, the teacher of the new Quirk, Hero, and Villain Analysis course!"

The boy continued on like this for some time, but Bakugou ignored him, stomping over to his desk and throwing himself into the seat, glaring at him in a way that made Izuku shiver. 

"Thank you...?” Izuku ventured, his voice only barely loud enough to be heard over Iida's soliloquy. Thankfully, his regard for teachers and other authority figures prevailed, and he stopped abruptly, bending at the waist in an over-the-top bow.

"I am Iida Tenya, the vice-president of 1-A!" He near-shouted in his eagerness.

"Thank you  Iida-kun," Izuku said pleasantly. "Why don't you take your seat?"

"Of course, sir!" came the boisterous voice again, and with a final few chops, Iida spun on his heel and stepped, military-style, to his assigned seat. 

Izuku shuffled his papers idly as a trickle, then a steady stream of kids came through the doorway. After another minute, a couple of stragglers hurried in, sending sheepish looks to Izuku, who just gave a vague smile in acknowledgment.

He stepped behind the lectern and cleared his throat. Almost immediately, the students turned to sit properly and face him, with the exception of Kacchan, who had kept his feet on his desk in a show of arrogance and apparent dismissal of him. While Izuku could believe the first, he didn't believe that Kacchan was ignoring him at all - the constant heated glower belayed any thought of that possibility.

Ignoring it for now - Kacchan was Kacchan - and noting Iida's disgruntled expression, Izuku smiled at the students. His students.

"Welcome to the new Quirk, Hero, and Villain Analysis course, or as I like to call it, Analysis," Izuku began, scanning over the students, noting who looked eager, bored, or worried. 

"My name is Midoriya Izuku; you can call me Midoriya-sensei or Izuku-sensei as it pleases you. I know I'm late to start - that was unavoidable, I'm afraid, but that means I haven't gotten a chance to get to know you all. So, for today, I'll have you tell me your names, your quirks, your reasons for being a hero, and what you hope to get out of this class. If we have time left, I'll let you ask me any questions you might want - I'll answer them as best as I can." He smiled wide, eyes crinkling, honestly happy to be here and excited to start. 

(Despite his proven observational skills, Izuku failed to notice the slightly widening eyes and pale blushes of a select few, only noticing the answering smiles that most gave him.)

He added apologetically, "and I'm sure you're already sick of this, but we'll be going in seat order." He nodded to the sparkly blonde in the first seat. "Whenever you're ready."

Barely had the words passed Izuku's lips before the sparkling student sprang to his feet and declared, "I am Aoyama Yuuga, mon professeur, and a true pleasure it is to meet you. My quirk is Navel Laser - like it sounds, I can project a laser from my belly button."

Aoyama paused to pose dramatically before continuing. "I wish to be a hero so that my shining form can be beholden by all!” He shifted his pose, clearly hoping to dazzle Izuku, but was sadly disappointed when the teacher didn't even notice, too busy taking notes.

He made sure to steel himself and went on. "And finally," he announced grandly, "I wish to learn all I can."

He bowed in a manner more suited to a delegate of royals than a high school student, but Izuku's eyes crinkled out a smile to him nonetheless and Aoyama felt soothed. 

"Thank you, Aoyama-kun. I hope to teach you all I can."

Popping up like a cork from a champagne bottle, the pink-haired and skinned girl stood up next. Like Aoyama, she shifted as she spoke, but unlike him, it was an unconscious movement, as if each word were a beat to a song only she could hear.

"My name's Ashido Mina! My quirk is Acid!"

She paused, putting her thoughts to words, and said cheerily, " I want to be a hero to protect those that need it, and put a smile on their face at the same time! I'm hoping to learn more about heroes." 

With that final firm, if less enthusiastic sentence, Ashido looked up at Izuku, but again, he was focusing hard on his notes and gave her only a cursory, if pleased smile. 

"Thank you Ashido-kun. I'll do my best."

The students continued on from there with Izuku taking rapid notes. He made a comment after each one, trying to make sure that each felt heard. Most of what he said was generic acknowledgment, but he spoke to a little bit more to a few students. When Uraraka spoke shyly about wanting to support her parents, Izuku told her it was an admirable goal. The permanent pink spots on her cheeks grew redder, but she sat down with a thoughtful look. When Kouda's voice failed to raise above a whisper, Izuku stepped to the side so the student could see his hands clearly, and signed that he could read JSL if Kouda knew it. From the delight on Kouda's face and the exuberance in his hands, this was one of the first times that he could make himself understood clearly. As he translated for the class, he made a mental note to tell Nedzu that code signs, if not sign language might want to be introduced to the first years especially when there were students reluctant or unable to speak. Also that would be helpful for silent communication and stealth missions and … he was rambling again. Oops. Thankfully(?) his mouth had been trained out of the habit even if his hands hadn't been. Kouda only smiled shyly at Izuku’s over-enthusiastic hands, sending him a subtle thumbs up.

Izuku was worried about what would happen when it was Kacchan's turn. Would he ignore him, undoing any of the respect he had gained? Would he showcase his trade-mark temper, exploding his way up the aisle to shove a burning palm in his face? Izuku refused to let the anxiety show in his face or stance, but his fingers twitched and he was afraid that Hagakure's notes might be illegible. Thankfully, none of that came to pass - Kacchan didn't stand unlike all the other students, kept his posture, and left his feet up on the desk, but he answered the questions with only a hint of a growl in his voice. Izuku breathed a sigh of relief and moved on.

The student two seats behind Kacchan made his skin crawl. He stood up on the chair, which was fair - he was very short after all, and would likely be shorter than the desk itself if he stood on the ground - but for his 'motivation,' though Izuku would scarcely use the word, he cited that "hot chicks want heroes - what more reason do I need?", and then wiped drool from his chin. All that Izuku could do was to say "I see," and move onto to the last student. He didn't miss the revulsion present on all of the girls' faces, the uncomfortable shifting of Hagakure's clothes, or the subtle signs of anger and distaste throughout the class though.

Finally, all the students had finished, Yaoyorozu sitting primly back down. Izuku glanced at his pocket watch - a gift - before snapping it closed and slipping it back in his pocket. 

"Alright then," he announced, clapping his hands together once. "We have fifteen minutes left. Go for it."

Ashido practically jumped out of her seat, her hand was raised so high.

"Ashido, shoot."

"How old are you?!?"

Izuku easily spoke over Iida's outraged how inappropriate it is to ask a teacher their age reprimand to say "Fifteen."

"What?!?”

The shriek from Ashido's lungs could have put a banshee's to shame. Two rows over, Jirou and Shouji both reacted, the former clamping her hands over her ears and the latter quickly withdrawing the ears he had formed on that side. 

"Try to keep it down, Ashido-kun," Izuku said calmly, a kind smile on his face. "Some here have sensitive ears."

"Right, sorry," she said, raising a hand in apology towards the rest of the class. 

Iida's hand was up in the air, the other making aborted movements.

"Iida."

"Forgive me for saying so," Iida said strongly, his arm now chop, chop, chopping with his words, "but how do you have a teaching license so young?"

"Do you have a teaching license?" asked Kaminari, his question not accusatory, merely curious. 

Before Iida could start in again - whether to reprimand Kaminari, or to continue his point, Izuku wasn't sure - he raised a hand in a silent request for quiet and patience. He got it, surprisingly quickly. 

"I do have my teaching license, Kaminari-kun," he told the blond. "I was put on an accelerated learning plan in my final year of middle school," he directed at Iida and the rest of the class. Izuku moved to sit on top of the teacher's desk. Might as well be comfortable. "My analysis work found its way into the principal's hands, and he decided that I would be a good fit. Incidentally," he added, that's why I was late this year. The exams and accreditation went over the expected timeline."

Hissed babble broke out, and Izuku waited for the idea of such a young teacher to blow over. Another hand raised.

"Yes, Yaoyorozu-kun."

"How did you learn to do analysis? I find myself quite intrigued by the concept."

Izuku hummed in thought, leaning back on his arms, face tilted to the ceiling. 

"When I was young, I wanted to be a hero. I liked to watch villain fights, I would fight for a chance to get to a signing and ask the heroes about their quirks. They rebuffed me of course - no hero wants to have a weakness spread. But …  I still wanted to know  and if they wouldn't tell me, I'd have to figure it out for myself.

"A lot of it is just basic observation. I would take notes - still do," be added, hefting the notebook he had been scribbling in the whole time, "and piece together the information. You can find out a lot by being quiet and unobtrusive. Some of you will find that part easy, while others will find it challenging. News reports and villain fights are good for if you're having trouble - a recording lets you re-watch the same moment again and again, while villain fights always draw a crowd that you can be less obtrusive in. 

"I won't go further into it now, Yaoyorozu-kun, but rest assured we will be covering it in this class."

She nodded, her head bending the perfect degree to show respect to a teacher.

He checked the school clock. "Five more minutes," he announced. That wasn't true, there was closer to ten, but the time crunch would encourage the students to ask what they really wanted to know. 

Apparently what they really wanted to know about him was his love life. He refused to say - not because he had one, but because they needed to have a line drawn somewhere, and that was his. Failing that, the questions turned to more benign, but still probing ones: what was his favorite colour (green), what was his blood type (O-), what did he like in a girlfriend (their smile), if he was opposed to chocolate or sweets in general (no, but he was watching his figure - that at least got some laughs), and a good dozen more before the time was up. If he was correct, they had Foundational Heroics next. He quickly started to gather up the papers he had brought as well as his now nearly-full notebook. Just in time too, because in the next few moments, All Might in all his full-fledged  costumed glory came through the doorway very much not like a normal person despite the man's words. 

He smiled up at the much taller figure. "Have a good class, All Might-sensei."

A large, warm hand clapped him gently (for All Might, Izuku still had to brace himself) on the shoulder.

"You as well, Midoriya-sensei." 

Flashing a smile at his colleague, he slipped out the door and headed to class 1-B.

Nearer to the end of the school day, Izuku was rewriting his notes into a neater hand - and in his own personal code that he had developed with the principal. 

"But sir! Nothing I’m writing here is that good! Even if someone were to pick it up - the information in there is just for fun, no one would get anything out of it-”

"Midoriya-kun.” The normally smiling principal now had around him an intimidating aura. His fur ruffled, and he was not smiling. “You are correct in that not all of this information is correct - I could not expect it to be anything else, with your age and training. But the vast majority? This information could change lives, Midoriya-kun. Whether this change is purposeful or by accident, positive or negative, is up to you.”

Izuku learned the code.

It had taken weeks to develop a code that Nedzu had deemed difficult enough to break. Given that the principal had the quirk High-Specs, that was saying something. It used sufficiently twisty logic that only someone who had developed the code and internalized its rules could read it with any ease. There was no key to this code. Instead, Izuku had breathed this code inside his lungs, tasted it on his tongue, and imprinted it in his brain.

As he wrote, he thought. The students in both hero classes were certainly a mixed bag. Kacchan was an explosive personality all on his own, while Ashido, Hagakure, and Kaminari of class A were bubbly and excitable. Yaoyorozu, Todoroki, Shouji, and Kouda were more reserved. Class-B’s Monoma was also… excitable, twisting comments around to be negative or inflammatory. It made Izuku wonder if he had a verbal component to his quirk. Of course, it also seemed he had some sort of combination inferiority/superiority complex, what with his seemingly obsessive rivalry with Class-A. Although, Izuku thought, couldn’t the same be said for Kacchan?

He blanched at the thought of Kacchan finding out he thought that. He didn’t think he’d mind the superiority part, but anything marking Kacchan as ‘inferior’ in any way… Izuku shuddered. Kinda strange though, because having a superiority complex meant that you thought you were better than you actually were, while an inferiority one meant that you were better than you thought. But he didn’t think Kacchan would think of it like that.

But whether Kacchan would like it or not didn’t really have anything to do with his job. He dutifully noted it down in the respective files. 

Class B in general seemed a little less high strung, more calmer, if friendly personalities balancing out the excitable ones - Monoma of course, but also Tetsutetsu, Tsunotori, Kamakiri, and Tsuburaba.

Izuku tapped a pencil against his lips. Monoma and Kacchan could easily be compared - they each had a small group of friends that could deal with them relatively easily - people whose feelings would not be so easily bruised. Although in Monoma’s case, Kendou especially had him well in hand. He snickered for a moment at the pun, but grew sober quickly. While she was incredibly adept with her quirk, he did worry that Monoma was missing out on important information if the three times Kendou had ‘reprimanded’ him was the norm rather than an outlier. He noted that down too. 

Class A seemed to be more divided though, even with Kacchan and Monoma both being a relatively equal dividing factor. His mouth tightened into a thin line. He didn’t have all the dynamics down yet - this had been his first day! - but he was already feeling incredibly uncomfortable around the short, purple-haired student. Mineta Minoru. Quirk: Pop-Off. Reason to be a hero: “hot chicks want heroes - what more reason do I need?”. Wanting to learn: “About why there’s so many hot villains and if there’s a way to sway them to my side.” Izuku gave another shudder, this one of revulsion. 

If he was correct - and Nedzu had driven into his head that he was correct far more often than not - Mineta was the second dividing factor. The girls mainly stuck together, getting along well. Uraraka also got along with Iida, Hagakure with Ojiro, Yaoyorozu with Todoroki, and Jirou with Kaminari. Asui seemed to get along with everyone, and Kirishima had the kind of good-natured kindness that let him get along with everyone as well - he was especially close with Kacchan and Ashido. 

But every girl had seemed disturbed by his words and uncomfortable with his regard when he looked at them. The boys too. Some reactions were more overt than others, but Izuku didn't think that there was anyone in that room that agreed with the boy.

He would have to wait longer to figure out if that student was as damaging to class A as he was starting to suspect.

The final bell had rung, and Izuku was packing up his things to go. Coded notebook in his bag, coded files in the locking filing cabinet, pens in his case, and then in the bag, bento box in the bag. The notebook he had taken quick, Japanese notes in was dropped in the industrial shredder that Nedzu had supplied him with. The reservoir was locked, and after fifteen minutes, would incinerate its contents.

He picked up the bag, slung his suit jacket over his shoulder and looked around. Ah, right, his water bottle. Juggling the items slightly, he dropped his messenger bag across his chest, the suit jacket (getting slightly crumpled but that was a problem for tomorrow's Izuku) on top of that, and kept his bottle in hand. 

Kacchan was waiting for him outside the main doors.

"What the hell, Deku?!"

Izuku repressed a flinch. Deku. He hated that name. Hadn't he proved by now that he wasn't a useless waste of space? 

He kept walking. Deku wasn't his name. Why should he respond to it?

He felt Kacchan coming, the displaced air giving him warning. He twisted to the side, letting the boy rush past him. Kacchan stopped and turned, breathing heavily, hands sparking lightly. Glaring.

Izuku put on the only smile he could right now. His fake one. It was edged with ice - it didn't, couldn't reach his eyes. 

"Can I help you, Bakugou-kun?"

There. If Izuku had blinked, he would have missed it, but Kacchan flinched. Just a little.

Good, a voice thought savagely. 

He waited a moment. Kacchan just stared at him, his breathing quickly going back to normal, but his red eyes still glaring at him  making Izuku feel like a pinned bug. 

He took a breath, then let his smile relax into something softer, more natural. 

"I'm afraid I need to head home now, Bakugou-kun, but I'll have office hours set up by next week. You can come to me there if you have any problems." He stepped to the side and walked steadily past the still frozen Kacchan. 

"Good job today," he added as he kept moving, the typical Japanese phrase rolling off his tongue. 

Kacchan and he had… history, but he wanted to treat him like any of his other students. He laughed to himself. He probably should stop calling him 'Kacchan' then, huh.

He caught the train home, leaving the school, and 'Kacchan' behind.

Chapter Text

The snug little apartment he shared with his mom was dark when he got home. Izuku guessed his mom was working overtime, or maybe had stopped after work to visit some friends. Closing the door firmly behind him, he stepped out of his shoes, lining them up properly, before stepping up into his house slippers. Walking further down the hallway, he rifled around in his pocket, then in his bag to find his phone. Switching the screen on, he saw he had 16 new notifications. Oops.

He had silenced his phone before his meeting with Nedzu that morning and had forgotten to check it until now. He sighed. Hopefully nothing was urgent. 

He set his bag down on the kitchen table, then keyed open his phone and started swiping away the unimportant notifications. 

A couple spam emails, a reminder to drink water, an update required for a game he played on and off, his music player, several breaking news articles that all said the same thing, and another game notification now gone, he had six remaining.

Two emails - both from Nedzu, one specifically for him and another for all staff, three new group chat notifications that he didn't recognize, and one from his mom.

He opened his mom's, and replied to her 'staying for overtime, back by 7:30 xoxo' with a 'sounds good, I'll have dinner ready for you! ☺️', then tabbed over to the new chat. 

His eyebrows rose. Apparently he had been added to the teacher's group chat. Most of the names seemed to be inside jokes, but he guessed that Presentation Michael was Present Mic, and Blood Fetish was probably Vlad King. Scrolling up, it looked like it was mostly used for minor complaints about students, small requests and some pictures of cats and pretty landscapes. He scrolled down to the bottom. 

Rattigan has added Midoriya.I to the chat

Rattigan changed Midoriya.I's name to Fresh Meat

Rattigan: Have fun!

Oh geez. Izuku closed the app, deciding that he could deal with the group chat later and clicked on a music playlist while he started getting dinner ready. The emails could wait.

The rice cooker had five minutes left, the fish was almost finished broiling, the miso soup was keeping warm on the stove, and Izuku was putting the final touches on the salad when the door opened and a tired Inko stepped in the entrance. He wiped his hands on a dish towel, and went to the hallway, calling out "welcome home, mom."

She answered "I'm home," and toed off her shoes and hooked on her slippers. She came towards him and enveloped him in a hug. Izuku relaxed into her hold, giving her a soft squeeze of his own. 

"Dinner's almost ready!" he told her cheerily, going back to the kitchen. "Just need to set the table." Inko headed into her room to get changed from her work clothes.

He busied himself with setting up the placemats, bowls, glasses for water, chopsticks, and serving spoons. He added a couple of trivets for the hot food, and by the time his mom was back in the kitchen, the food was on the table and he was scooping rice into bowls. 

She smiled at him gratefully before settling down in her chair and accepting the rice he handed her. 

"How was your day," he asked, sitting down himself.

She let out a laugh. "Izu-kun, you've heard me talk about work hundreds of times! Tell me about your day!"

He laughed a little too, and started to tell her about the meeting with Nedzu that morning, the silly personal questions that his classes had asked him, and how excited he was for tomorrow. He ate as he spoke, fitting in bites of food in between sentences. Inko ate rapidly, which told him that she had likely skipped lunch. He frowned. She worked too hard to be doing that. He resolved to make up a bento for her before he went to bed; she was much more likely to eat if he made her something. He wasn't sure if it was the convenience of having it right there, because she didn't want to waste food, or because she was afraid of hurting his feelings, but whatever the case, she would eat it, and that was his goal. 

Finally scooping up the last few clumps of rice and popping them in his mouth, he ushered his mother towards the bath. He stood up, stretched, and set about clearing the dishes. Bentos had to be made, and as he cleaned he thought about what he wanted to eat tomorrow - rice of course, but also rolled omelette, healthy veggies, a package or two of furikake…

Izuku plopped down in his room, tuckered out, but feeling immensely satisfied with his day. He'd had a bath, and was in fresh pjs, his hair still dripping a bit. He booted up his laptop, and while waiting, opened his phone. 

New notifications from the teachers' group chat met him, and he thumbed it open.

Presentation Michael: Welcome, listener!

Blood Fetish: I've already heard a lot about you from my class; keep up the good work.

Give me coffee or give me death: welcome

My class as well. Good job.

That was probably the teacher of the other hero class, then.

Snip Snap Snoop: welcome!

1+3=4=Death: Don't worry too much about the name! I'm sure it'll change soon ^.^

There were a couple of other messages too, mostly expressing welcome.

Fresh Meat: Hi! Thanks so much for the welcome. I'm very happy to be here!

There. Succinct and to the point, while still being friendly and polite. His inner fanboy was yanking at the bit, begging him to ask one of them, any of them all of them about their quirks, fighting style, teaching style, anything! everything.

He scolded himself. That was no way to behave around his colleagues. He couldn't help loving quirks and loving heroes, he couldn't help his passive information gathering, and he wouldn't stop taking notes, but he could help being a mumbling stalker as Kacc- as Bakugou used to call him. He shoved his still damp hair out of his face and sighed, turning off the phone and shifting his gaze back to the computer. It had just finished booting up by that point. It was getting slow. No wonder really. It was old, probably close to five or six years. Technology really didn't last these days…

Anyway, he started up his e-mail client and took a look. Yep, spam, spam, spam, delete, delete, delete. There were the two from Nedzu. He opened the one directly to him first.

He scanned it quickly. Nedzu requested that he come in after class on Friday to see how he was doing, and to enact any changes either of them wanted to make. He typed out a quick reply agreeing to the plan, then checked out the next email.

It was a reminder of the rules and conduct of UA, a welcome to him, and another reminder to come to him if there was any trouble, or they needed help. Figuring he didn't need to reply to this one, he then focused on clearing out the junk, spam, and occasional threat out of his inbox.

Yawning, he stood up, thinking about what he wanted to teach his classes tomorrow. His class!! He gave a giddy little spin. Who would have thought, the worthless, quirkless, useless Deku could be teaching at the best hero school this side of Japan?

The next morning dawned bright and early. His All Might alarm clock wished him a hearty good morning, and he bopped the top of the head to turn it off. He stretched, pointing his toes and appreciating the stretch in his muscles. Then he sighed, and dropped out of bed to the floor. His daily regime was a pain, but he couldn’t hate the results it brought. He was fitter now than he had ever been in his life, and it showed, not just in his form, but also in how he felt and acted. Not only could he help around the house more, carry more groceries, and run farther and faster, he also had more energy to do what he wanted. He felt better, with less depressive spirals that could ruin hours, days, and months. The exercise also gave him an outlet for the nervous energy his anxiety produced constantly. It lessened the effects of it too - he was able to speak louder and more confidently in front of a crowd, and while he still felt the desire to mumble at ever increasing speeds, he was able to contain it more often than not.

He thanked his lucky stars that All Might - and through him, Nedzu - had taken an interest in him just over a year ago. He changed from pushups to situps. Right then though… he could have done without their interest.

When he was finished, he stood up, pushing his sweaty hair out of his face. What had felt like forever was more like thirty minutes. He still had time to shower, get dressed, and plan for the day before he had to leave. 

Nedzu was awfully generous with his teachers, Izuku thought, trotting in through the UA gates. At first, Izuku had thought that the principal was making allowances for his age and lack of experience. However, after reading the standard teaching contract that Nedzu had shown him, there were very few allowances made specifically for him. 

UA teachers had the best healthcare and dental that insurance could buy. If there was an extra feature available, UA had it. The paid vacation days started at 4 weeks in addition to the normal statutory holidays and regular school breaks. The pay was more than competitive, UA offering far more than any other school, hero or otherwise. Their hours and days were flexible, and the school worked around them, not the other way around.

Of course, the school expected no less than the teachers’ best. Each teacher was highly accredited, and the vast majority of the teachers that interacted with the students were heroes. If a teacher had a useful skill or quirk, they were expected to use it on behalf of the school when there was need. Izuku knew that Cementoss was particularly beleaguered, responsible for fixing and rebuilding UA structures, aiding in exams, and helping with the various festivals.

Midnight too was in high demand. Her sleeping gas was provided, free of charge, to students needing precious sleep before an exam, for those with insomnia, and could even be used as an anesthetic in a pinch. She used a special machine that siphoned and stored her quirk into easy to use capsules - crack one open, breathe in the gas, and you were out like a light.

Hound Dog ran security as well as being head counsellor, Present Mic was always the MC of any events, and Eraserhead was on call for volatile or out of control quirks. 

Izuku still wasn't really sure why UA wanted him, but now was not the time to look a gift horse in the mouth. Now was the time to get to his office and plan out what the hero kids would be learning today. 

(He already had asked and asked Nedzu and All Might both why he was being considered, why they had taken the time out of their days and lives so that he could complete his goal. He couldn’t imagine that it had been easy for them to arrange accelerated college and teaching certifications outside of the general timeline. All Might had reassured him, telling him that his analysis work was solid, and that Nedzu did want him to be a part of UA. Nedzu had cackled in delight when he asked, his eyes shining eerily, but refused to say more. That… did not reassure him. But he was here. That would have to be enough.)

When he entered the office, several heads popped up. He startled. Silly of him - this was an open plan office, with a row of desks with dividers so that several people could work together in semi-privacy. Why wouldn’t other teachers be here? He bowed and said a quiet greeting, and received a mildly chorused ‘good morning’ as well. He started to hurry to the cubicle Nedzu had said would be his, before remembering that he didn’t have to scurry like a mouse - he belonged here. He set his bag down on the desk, and pulled out his notebook full of code, and his pencil case, then went to put his bento in the staff fridge.

When he came back to his desk, a dark figure was looking through his notebook. He had a moment of shock - he hadn’t seen him, when did he come in here?, anger - why was he looking through his things?! - and fear - what if he could read it and the code was easily breakable? - before choosing to feel a calm sense of amusement instead. He leaned against the side of the desk and asked “so, what do you think?”

The man didn’t jump - though that would have been hilarious - but his shoulders did tense, and he turned to face Izuku. He still held the notebook in his hands. 

“What is it?” he asked. His voice was low and gravely. He had long, wavy black hair that fell limply about his face, and he stood slouched, in a black outfit, with a heaped grey scarf smothering his neck and shoulders.

“It’s my notes,” he said, eyes taking all the information in. His fingers twitched, wanting simultaneously to babble about the man in front of him, and to sketch out the Eraserhead. He refrained. Now was not the time to act like an idiot in front of someone he had admired for so long. He could sketch - and babble - later. “Midoriya Izuku,” he said, holding out a hand to shake. “It’s nice to meet you, Eraserhead.”

The man shot him a sharp glance, but shook his hand regardless. “How is,” he shook the notebook “this notes? And how do you know who I am?”

Izuku blinked. “The notes are in code. Much of the information I collect and record could be disastrous in the wrong hands. I’d rather not put an entire generation of prospective heroes in danger because of my hobby. And I recognize you.”

Eraserhead huffed out a breath. “How. No one’s ever recognized me before.”

Izuku shrugged uncomfortably. “I like doing research - I did even as a kid. And there were some rumors about a cryptid around where you do your patrol route. I thought it would be cool to find out more about it. And then, well, it turned out to be you. I found some old and grainy camera footage and put the pieces together.” He smacked his hands together. “Wait, you’re the teacher of Class 1-A aren’t you? Aizawa Shouta, right?” He beamed up at the visibly startled man. “Your class is very energetic.”

He took a step back when the man’s eyes sharpened and then glowed a blood red. His hair started to float and the capture weapon rose with it. 

“Who are you.” Aizawa didn’t raise his voice, but there was an violent edge to it that told Izuku he had best answer him and quickly. 

“I told you! I’m Midoriya Izuku, I’m the new Analyst teacher!”

Aizawa scoffed. “Like Nedzu would hire someone younger than my students to teach them.”

“Wouldn’t I?” Nedzu popped up from behind the desk’s partition, balancing on it easily, then sitting on the edge and letting his legs dangle down. Aizawa didn’t take his searing gaze away from Izuku. The capture weapon continued to hang in a threatening aura around Aizawa’s head and shoulders but made no move to attack. Of course, Izuku knew that that could change in an instant. 

“Now, now, Aizawa-kun, put down your weapon. And your quirk - it won’t do any good anyway.”

Still angry and confused, Aizawa released his hold on his quirk and let his hair and capture weapon settle gently around his shoulders. Nedzu immediately jumped from the partition into the folds of the capture weapon. Aizawa made no move to evade or aid the principal but was keeping up his now quirk-free glare. 

Izuku wanted to turn and run, but he was held still by a mixture of Aizawa’s gaze and his training. Running, Nedzu had taught him, only showed that he had something to hide. He did not have anything to hide. Nedzu had trained him, had hired him, knew exactly who and what he was. He stood tall, back straight and tucked his hands behind his back. He met Aizawa’s gaze fearlessly. 

Shouta didn’t know what to think. Here was this pipsqueak in a fitted suit, looking the part of a well-off teacher - if only he hadn’t been the same age or younger than his youngest students. He had curly green hair that nonetheless flattered the open, round, freckled face. His eyes were only a few shades lighter than his hair. He had seemed … amused almost when he had first approached him, then fearful, and now confident and fearless, though the last could be attributed to the principal’s arrival. 

He didn’t know what to feel. This kid had deduced that he was Eraserhead, that he was Aizawa Shouta, that he was the teacher of class 1-A. His job required that he be as secretive as possible, that he hide who he was. He didn’t have a combative quirk, only one that let him ambush and capture. It was dangerous to be known. The more people that knew about him, the more danger he was in. 

On one hand, the fact that he had figured out who he was so quickly was a sign that this boy was an excellent choice for an Analysis teacher, no matter how scary Shouta himself found it. On the other - it was too good. He had to be a villain, he had to be an enemy. No child could impress Nedzu so well that he would be offered a job, one where he would be training and influencing forty new prospective heroes. 

Shouta let out a low snarl. From the twitch of Nedzu’s ear, he knew that the principal at least had heard it. 

“Not to worry, Aizawa-kun. It will all work out in the end.” Nedzu’s voice was soft and low. He patted the top of Shouta's head and jumped down. 

Shouta stayed on high alert. If this was a test… he did not want to fail.

Chapter Text

Izuku… didn't know what to do. Eraserhead - Aizawa - had been incredibly angry and had threatened him. He didn't feel … unsafe, but he could feel every time the teacher's eyes passed over him, because the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. 

He took a deep breath to calm himself. The bell would ring soon for homeroom and then Aizawa would have to leave. Then he could actually focus without Aizawa's deadly gaze aimed at his back.

He busied himself with doodling in one of his 'to be burned' notebooks that Nedzu had provided for. They were made up of entirely recycled paper and were of low quality. Izuku didn't mind. They were to be shredded and burned after all. 

For his coded journals, he had the nicest ones he had ever seen. Hard-bound with soft cloth covers, the paper was fine-grained and smooth. Nedzu had also delightedly demonstrated that the books were fire, water, tear, and acid-resistant. Seeing the classes that he was working with, he was grateful that Nedzu had thought to provide such journals. 

The bell rang, jolting him for a moment. With that, the majority of the teachers left, Aizawa sending him one last glare before leaving. For someone whose job required him to be as stealthy as possible, he sure wasn't being subtle. 

But with Aizawa gone, that meant he could start on his lesson plans! 

Flipping the scrap journal to a fresh page, he started brainstorming ideas. As such young students still coming into their quirks, he thought that they would probably be the most interested in learning about themselves. However, a standard classroom wasn't the best way to get to know how their quirks worked, and there wouldn't be time enough for them all. In addition, Izuku would want something so personal and intrinsic to be discussed privately, not in a classroom setting. 

He made a note to ask Nedzu about arranging for him to be able to shadow the hero students, especially during their physical education and foundational heroic classes. Maybe he could book a gym? UA certainly had enough.

Starting off with studying villains also seemed a bit over the top. Maybe a well-known pro-hero could be the starting base? Hmm...

No one knew too much about All Might's quirk (though Izuku had both suspicions and background knowledge), so that would be unfair to expect students to analyze him. Endeavour… Izuku's nose wrinkled. He didn't like Endeavour personally, so that was a mark against using him, as Izuku didn't think it was particularly appropriate to drag the students into a lecture about excessive damage. Plus, wasn't Endeavour Todoroki-kun's father? Scratch that then. 

Hawks? A very well liked and well rounded hero, he was still incredibly private in some ways, and his background was almost unknown. Izuku had gone digging once, and found next to nothing. No then.

Best Jeanist? As much fun as it would be to get the students to debate why he always covered his face and what they thought was beneath the denim,  he would save that for when they had a little more experience (and for when he had a bad day and needed a pick-me-up).

Hmmm…

Maybe he should pick a hero from UA? They would have had the chance to see them in action. A well known one too…

He mentally flipped through the staff list. Of course! Present Mic was perfect. He taught all the students, he was generally well liked, had a well known quirk, and had a very popular radio show. 

Perfect. 

That would do for today… what about tomorrow?

Maybe a villain? Someone that had a lot of news articles, and preferably video. 

He booted up the computer. Time to do some searching.

Well, damn there were a lot of villains.

Izuku knew that of course. Not a day went by where he either heard about or ran into a villain fight. He didn’t even live in a particularly rich or populous place. 

Picking an appropriate villain for his students to analyze was going to be hard. He wanted to find one that was fairly low-key, not overly violent, one that had some news and videos surrounding their fighting style. If they monologued, so much the better. He wanted to make it easy for them, not difficult.

Plague was an … interesting choice, but there were discrepancies as to how she had ended up as a villain. There were rumors that she had started as a vigilante, but then one thing lead to another, and suddenly she was a villain despite her not changing how she operated at all.

Swipe was another interesting one. His quirk was similar to Fukidashi’s in that they both utilized Japanese, though Fukidashi used the spoken word, and Swipe drew characters in the air. His fingers glowed slightly when writing, leaving an afterimage in the air. While that gave the heroes a split second to respond, Swipe was incredibly  fast at writing, and had escaped more times than Izuku could count.

Izuku was hesitant to bring up a villain that had a similar quirk though, so Swipe was put aside for now. 

Hydrator… now there was an interesting villain. He was classified as such rather than a vigilante because although he usually caused inconvenient incidents, he caused those inconveniences to everyone, villains, heroes, cops, and civilians alike. His quirk allowed him to dehydrate items to very small cubes - he would walk into a crowded area, spray some water on it, then high-tail it out of there. The things he hydrated varied from being large amounts of detergent (that he dumped in a fountain at a popular mall), a plastic inflatable robber doll that said ‘this is a stickup!’ in a crowded bank, and a portable A/C in the middle of a park on a warm day. His given reasoning? Chaos. 

Izuku nodded to himself. Hydrator would be good to start out with. Entertaining, and likely to bring up much lively discussion. That was day two then. He put down his pen and covered his mouth with his hand, still thinking. He already was planning on having Q&As at the end of each class when time permitted. Should he take suggestions? Izuku never remembered any of his teachers doing that, but why not? It’s not like he had to take the suggestions if they were inappropriate. 

The day after … He was tempted to get the class to analyze each other, but he didn’t know any of the students well enough yet to know if they were doing a good job, so that would have to wait as well. 

Maybe… It might be too soon, but in Izuku’s mind it was probably better to be too soon with this lesson than too late. 

The classes needed to know why analysis was important outside of themselves. He thought that the students would be - understandably - most excited for analyzing their own quirks, and probably not too sure about what it meant to analyze heroes and villains, or even co-workers. He felt that too many heroes made that mistake. An analyst on the payroll could make or break a mission. 

So. That was day three. 

Izuku set to scribbling out the basis for his lesson plans, ignoring the ringing of the first bell.

He was just finishing up the last of the lesson plans in his coded journals when his phone beeped. Right. Class. That was a thing. He shook his head to get out the cobwebs, flipped through the scrap notebook to ensure he had copied all the information he wanted down, then dropped it in the shredder/incinerator. It happily went to work. 

“Heeyyyyyyyyyy little listener!” The voice cut cleanly through and over the noise of the shredder. Izuku jumped a little, then turned. The voice hero was standing in full regalia behind him, watching him behind triangular orange lenses. 

“Hello!” Izuku responded eagerly. He had listened to the man’s radio show since he could remember, and that made him feel like he really knew the hero. He dug through his bag and pulled out another notebook. “Could I bother you to sign this?”

Present Mic looked surprised for a second - maybe he wasn’t used to people straight out asking? Maybe he shouldn’t ask because he was a coworker? - but then his customary smile broke out again and he popped open a pen.

“Sure thing!”

Izuku watched as the hero scribbled out his hero name with a flourish, then handed Izuku the book back.

“Thank you very much!” Izuku said, tucking the book back in his bag. “I’m Midoriya Izuku, I’m the new Analysis teacher,” he added with a short bow.

“I thought you might be!” Present Mic said boisterously. “I’m Yamada Hizashi; it’s great to meet you!”

Izuku smiled in relief at the welcome rather than a threat that he had half expected. 

“I need to get to class, but I hope to speak to you again soon!”

“I do as well!” Yamada responded. 

Izuku left the room, everything he needed already in his messenger bag. He wasn’t sure, but he thought he felt Yamada’s eyes following him out. 

His class for 1-A was scheduled for just after lunch, so it was in an empty room that he started to set up his materials. He didn't need a lot - another scrap notebook, his coded one, his water bottle, and the class list written over in code (okay, yes, that's probably paranoid, sue him), with any name alterations that his students preferred. Asui's was the only one for class A - she liked to be called Tsu, even by the teachers. He felt it to be a little familiar, but if she preferred it, then he wouldn't deny her that choice. 

He'd just finished putting his things on the desk and dropping his bag out of sight behind it when the first student came in. It was Iida, striding quickly like he'd be late if he didn't keep up such a pace. Izuku glanced at his watch. There was still another five minutes till the warning bell rang. Come to think of it, he'd been the first one here yesterday too, hadn't he? Given his posture, his speech, and his penchant for reprimanding his fellow students, Izuku wouldn't be surprised that he was particular about time as well. Izuku made a note of that, and bit his lip. Would it be too forward of a teacher to ask about it? It wasn't really his business - but wasn't it part of a teacher's job to support their students in every way they could?

Mind made up, Izuku cleared his throat. "Iida-kun?"

The taller boy sat up straighter, and Izuku thought his arms stiffened too, as in preparation for making his point by way of karate chopping. 

"Yes, Midoriya-sensei!?"

Izuku smiled at him quickly. Iida wasn’t in trouble after all, it would be bad if his student thought his unsmiling face was a sign he was displeased.

"Ah, I just wanted to ask why you are here at this time?"

Iida immediately shot straight to his feet, and bowed 90 degrees. "My apologies, Midoriya-sensei! I was delayed because of a line for the bathroom! It will not happen again!"

What? 

"Uh, no, Iida-kun, I think you have the wrong idea. I'm asking why you're here so early. If you had been a minute sooner, I wouldn't have been here. I'm asking because there's still plenty of time - it's five minutes until the warning bell."

"Midoriya-sensei! A student of UA must be at least ten minutes early to show that we are taking school seriously! It is of utmost importance that we show our dedication!"

Well. How to put this nicely but in a way that the other boy would understand?

"Iida-kun," Izuku started slowly. "If UA students must always be early, where is the rest of the class?"

Iida made to spring up again, but didn't quite manage it as he was already standing. 

"I believe most of them are in the cafeteria! I will go and retrieve them post haste!"

"Iida-kun, please wait a moment!" Izuku exclaimed.

"Yes sensei!"

The taller boy had already started to run off, but stopped.

Izuku let out a sigh. "Iida-kun, I was asking what you thought, not asking you to get the rest of the class."

“Oh. I am sorry, Midoriya-sensei, I just presumed…”

“I noticed.” he tempered the statement with a smile. “That might be something you want to work on. What I was trying to get at, Iida-kun, is that the rest of your class is still not here. I do not expect them here until the final bell, and even then I try to be lenient because of unforeseen circumstances - like a line for the bathroom.”

Iida still looked confused, like he wasn’t sure why Izuku was saying this. Suppressing another sigh, he tried to clarify.

“Iida, you believe that all UA students should be at least ten minutes early. The rest of your class does not. I do not - so why do you."

Iida stuttered for a moment then said, “my brother has always said that a hero must never be late!”

Izuku nodded. “That’s a good way to be. Your brother is Ingenium, is he not? He’s a very good hero.” Iida nodded frantically, eyes lighting up, and mouth opening, likely to start waxing eloquent about his brother. Izuku held up a hand to stall that. He liked Ingenium as much as the next guy, but he was trying to make a point here, dammit.

“Your brother said that a hero must never be late. That’s right. But ‘not-late’ doesn’t necessarily equate to ‘early.’”

Izuku let out a breath. “You are given lunch time to eat, but also to socialize. Being able to socialize at your -  our age is only beneficial - it allows us to work with and get to know our peers in a safe environment. If you truly wish to come to class early so you feel you can prepare, then I won’t stop you - you’re welcome here anytime, but please do not do it for your teachers or UA’s reputation.”

Iida looked like someone had whacked him over the head with an iron skillet, but he slowly nodded and sat back down. Izuku let him be. Even if Iida didn’t ultimately listen to him, he probably felt like he had just had the rug yanked out from under him. 

The rest of the students came in after the warning bell, in more or less the same order as last time. Mineta, Izuku noticed, was lingering behind the girls with a blush and a frankly perverted grin on his face. His lips tightened. He could call out Mineta in front of everyone, even discipline him, but ultimately he didn’t think that it would change the behaviour. It would stop it right now, and Mineta may be wary around him for a bit, but he would go right back to it as soon as his back was turned. And it would upset the girls, which he wanted to avoid, especially when everyone else was right there. 

He made a note of what he had seen, then jotted down another one - why did the girls have to wear skirts? - Izuku certainly didn’t want to, and he heard enough complaining over the years to know that not all girls liked skirts. Anyway - pants should be an option if they wanted. That also reminded him to investigate what their costumes looked like. He had noticed that many heroes went for flash and panache over comfort and utility. 

He glanced up as the final bell rang. Kaminari dashed in, almost slipping and braining himself on Uraraka’s desk. 

“Are you alright, Kaminari-kun?”

“Ah - yes sensei!” His smile was almost blinding.

Izuku blinked. That… was a bit of a strong reaction for checking up on a student. Better make a note of that too…

Once the class had settled - Kaminari had also forgotten a pen somehow, and Jirou passed him one of her spares - (Did the school offer free or discounted supplies for students? He had noticed that Uraraka’s in particular were not of the highest quality or in the best shape, as if she had bought them second hand.) Izuku cleared his throat and the class turned to face him. 

“Good afternoon,” he told them. I hope you’ve had a good morning so far. Today we’re going to be working in groups of three to five people. Go ahead and choose them, and feel free to move the desks around. 

He watched carefully as groups of students met up, discussed, and figured out the best configuration to sit in. Kac- Bakugou didn’t move, letting other students come to him. And they did - Kirishima, Ashido, Kaminari, and Sero all quickly flanked him, grinning at his sour face and pulling desks and chairs around to sit in. Hagakure had already scurried out of the way, and gone to make a group with Ojiro. Yaoyorozu had turned her head and smiled questioningly at Todoroki, who nodded his head in agreement. Tokoyami and Shouji approached them, then sat down with them after asking to be a part of their group. The rest of the groups rapidly came together, with the exception of Mineta who had to throw himself on Satou’s tender mercies and begged to join his group. 

Once they had settled again, he clicked the remote on his desk and the projector overhead flickered to life. 

“Today,” Izuku said, grinning all the while, “you’ll be analyzing someone you should already know - Present Mic.”

“Now, remember,” Izuku called out as the bell rang. There’s a box set up at the back if you want to suggest ideas, but if you’re worried, you can email me or talk to me personally.”

A chorused “Yes Sensei!” rang out behind him as he left for the office. He thought both classes had gone incredibly well. While many thoughts, suggestions, and analyses had been simple and obvious, others had been well thought out. Several of his students might develop a flair for analysis, and become better heroes because of it. 

The office was quiet, only one or two staff members that Izuku wasn’t familiar with. When one lifted his hand in greeting, Izuku responded in kind before heading to his desk. 

Monoma, he admitted as he pulled out his scrap and code notebooks, could stand to lose some of the attitude and acerbic nature. But despite that, or perhaps because of it, Monoma in particular showed a real streak of natural talent. It probably had something to do with his quirk, Izuku mused. He had said it was ‘Copy,’ and the way he had hunched his shoulders in as he said it, before meeting Izuku’s eyes defiantly, lead him to believe that Monoma had been bullied in some matter. Likely because of his quirk, as Izuku had been bullied for his lack of one. His eyes dimmed remembering it, hand going absently to the starburst marks on his shoulder. He took a deep breath in. It was okay. He wasn’t there right now. He shook his head to clear it and focused back on what mattered right now. Monoma. 

Like he said, Monoma had the quirk Copy. If Izuku was right, the quirk likely only copied some quirks, wouldn’t work on others, and yet more would be dangerous for him to try and use right away without practice. He would have to balance all of those possibilities on the daily, anytime he wanted to use his quirk. As a hero student, he’d have to be more aware than most. While everyone else in the hero course had to figure out their own quirk, its limitations and how to improve it, Monoma had to figure that out and everyone else’s quirks too. He was probably doing analysis on the fly without realizing it, or identifying it as such. 

He marked down Monoma as having potential and took extra notice of the suggestion he had made: what made some quirks ‘villainous?’

Shouda too seemed to have a flair for analysis. Whether it was because of his own natural inclination or because his quirk lead him to analysis as a way to make his hits count, he too saw and sensed more than the average person. He too had a suggestion: What makes a quirk strong?

Class A had its fair share of talent as well.

Yaoyorozu should have been no surprise. She had a quirk that could only be useful if she knew what she needed and how she could make it. She also had to juggle what reserves she had with what she needed, and what she might need in the future. She hadn’t come up with a question or a suggestion at the end of class, but she had made two boxes for the suggestions to be put in when he had been about to just tape an envelope to the wall. He suspected that she would come in person to him eventually with a list of well thought-out suggestions for their class. She was intelligent, bright, and kind, not to mention an over-achiever, but she also seemed to have a case of crippling shyness and self-doubt. He hoped that once she could see the impact of her actions, her doubt would fade. 

Shouji too had skill. He was fairly quiet, but when he said something, people listened. He was also an information network in his own right. He saw, heared, smelled, and felt more than most, and from what Izuku could tell, filed that information away quietly to use at a later date. He had some insights on Present Mic that Izuku knew were correct, but no one else in class has picked up on. He had made a suggestion almost idly to his group rather than to Izuku, but the merit of it still stood: what drives those to heroics, vigilantism, or villainy?

Kouda too seemed to understand people on a different level than most. Whether it was because of his quirk or the animals he talked to giving him a different perspective, he seemed to not think quite like the rest of his class, a unique kind of out-of-the-box thinking that Izuku knew was highly prized in the field of analytics. Like Yaoyorozu, he did not have any suggestions at the moment, but Izuku knew some would be forthcoming eventually.

Izuku was entirely pleased with the students that had caught his eye - five in only two classes was more than he could have hoped for. It made him wonder if there were other hero hopefuls, or even management, support, and general students with that sort of talent. He firmly believed that such talent should be nurtured. How could he go about that? Something else to bring up with Nedzu…

In addition, he knew the students overall probably wanted to analyze their own quirks. So would the majority of the rest of the students. He was a teacher of UA; he didn't think he should limit his reach to only two classes. Plus Ultra.

He finished transcribing and coding the notes into his good notebooks, then pulled out seven files. Monoma's, Shouda's, Kouda's, Shouji's  and Yaoyorozu's. Bakugou's. And Mineta's.

He updated his five first, noting their talent for analysis and the fact that their quirks often benefited analysis in some way, or required it. He jotted down the suggestions they had made, and the way he figured their thought processes worked to lead to their conclusions and their suggestions.

Then he turned to the problematic ones in class A. 

Most had gotten used to Ka- Bakugou's attitude, and while on a personal level Izuku didn't like it, as long as it wasn't severely disruptive he would let it slide. He also seemed to have gathered around a small grouping of friends - Kirishima, with his ineffable attitude and love for manliness; Ashido with her friendship to Kirishima and perhaps liking how blunt Bakugou was; Kaminari, and Sero. He actually suspected that free tutoring help might have been the strongest lure for Kaminari, but they did seem to be friends for all that Bakugou scowled and glared. 

Regardless of who his friends were or how they had joined his orbit, this was the first time Izuku had seen him actually interact with people as friends and not lackeys or extras. 

Those were all good signs. Kacc- Bakugou seemed to be settling down, less explosive and ready to bite off someone's head. 

But behind those red, red eyes was an unease and a brewing temper.

Izuku was worried not for others, but for himself. 

That was a new feeling. Too often, Izuku had protected others, especially from Kacch- from Bakugou. He had never really thought about what might happen to him, what would happen to him, what had happened to him, time and time again. The marks and bruises and burns left on him hurt. Of course they did. But pain had never stopped him from stepping in front of any of Bakugou and co.'s new victims. 

Knowing his class, knowing his colleagues - if Bakugou snapped, they could protect themselves and each other.

Izuku was… tired. He didn't want to be Bakugou's whipping boy any longer. He also didn't know how he could stop it. As a teacher  he only had as much authority as the students gave him. Nedzu would back him, yes, though he wouldn't be surprised, with how Aizawa had acted, if the homeroom teacher tried to undermine him at every turn. Bakugou was also Aizawa’s student. And if the rumors he had picked up over the last weeks of training with All Might and Nedzu had any basis in fact, Aizawa wouldn’t have allowed those in his class that had no potential to be great. 

Izuku didn’t want him to be expelled. He wanted him to be a hero - he knew that he had the capacity, the want, the need, the potential. Izuku didn’t want to be a pebble that K- that Bakugou wanted to kick out of the way or step on, didn’t want to be an obstacle in his path. He wanted to be a pillar of strength that Bakugou could depend on. 

He sighed, a deep shuddering breath. Another thing to think about. He ran a hand down his face, willing the stress and tension away. He turned to the last file. 

Mineta Minoru. He… didn’t like him. He had checked the kid’s files. He had only barely scraped by in both the written and hero exam. So why was he in Aizawa’s class? There were only forty spots, and, having looked at the other students’ files at least once, Mineta scored by a large margin below the next lowest student. Well. Kaminari’s written test scores were close, but the destruction he had managed during the practical had boosted his score admirably. There must have been other students that would have had a higher score than Mineta’s…

Wait. Mineta. Wasn’t that the name of … shit, why couldn’t he remember. But the name was niggling in the back of his mind. He checked his watch. Just after four. He still had time. He started his computer.

By the time he had found what he was looking for, Izuku felt simultaneously burning hot with rage and numb to the bone. If he had thought to look in a mirror, he would have only seen placid calmness on his face, nothing but a spark in his eyes to indicate that something else was brewing behind his mask. Only if you touched him would you notice the fine tremor that ran through his limbs. 

Mineta’s great-uncle was one of UA’s funders. Izuku had wondered, if only vaguely, how the school could afford, well, everything. Part, though it was a relatively small part - less than 30% - was from private funders. As a benefit of being a private funder, Nedzu promised each of them a favour, though the fact of that was relatively hush hush. Apparently, Mineta Sr. had bargained to let his great-nephew into the school. Alright. Good to know that nepotism was alive and well. Though it bothered Izuku, knowing that another worthy student would have been pushed out because of Mineta’s entrance, he had passed both exams, if only by a slim margin.

But that wasn’t all, not by a long shot. It was buried. Buried deep, but Nedzu hadn’t been slacking when he had been training Izuku in data collection.

Mineta Sr. had apparently pulled in several favours from lawyers, judges, and the police. Not for himself, at least not in the last five or ten years, but rather, for one Mineta Minoru. Lawyers to represent him, judges to rule in his favour, police and civil servants to seal documents and bury them deep. One for petty theft, no less than seven accounts of harassment, and, most damning, three of attempted rape. 

Lips narrowed, he printed off the information, and erased the tracks his computer had left. He finished coding out his notes for Mineta’s file, adding in what he had seen and what he suspected. He filed the remaining coded files, and in a fit of bad temper snapped the drawer shut with more force than required. More than one head shot up at the sound but he paid it no mind. 

He flipped through his scrap book - no, he had copied the rest of the information out. He did take the time to rip out a couple of the nicer doodles he had made earlier that day, folding them up and slipping them in his bag before dropping the book in the shredder. He picked up his things, arranging them to his liking, then turned on his heel, starting towards the door. Aizawa was coming in, looking somewhat more awake than he had that morning. Their eyes met. 

Izuku wanted to duck away, drop his eyes, but he refused to. He refused to stop, to bow, to make any gesture of politeness or deference.

“Aizawa-sensei. Perfect timing. Come with me please.” His voice sounded cold and faraway to his ears.

Aizawa’s lip curled, but he said, fairly flatly, “and why would I do that, Midoriya.”

Now past him, Izuku paused and looked over his shoulder. “It’s about one of your students. I heard somewhere that you might care about them?” He let his voice go up in a mocking lilt. Aizawa’s hair lifted a bare inch, and Izuku could see a red glimmer in the dark depths. Good. Izuku forced a lazy, arrogant slice of a smile onto his face.

“Come with me then. We’re going to see Nedzu.” Then he was striding off, not waiting. Aizawa could catch up. He had a good six inches on him that was mostly leg, it shouldn’t take him long. 

He knocked on Nedzu’s door. The doors swung open just before his knuckles hit the wood. Aizawa paused, as if uncertain he should go in. Izuku looked at him oddly and stepped through the doorway.

“Ah, Midoriya-kun, Aizawa-kun! What can I help you with?”

Izuku stepped forward, and slammed the file folder on Nedzu’s desk. Aizawa jumped. Nedzu didn’t, his eyes merely narrowing in thought. 

“That student is it?”

Izuku’s lip curled and he snarled, "yes."

Nedzu looked over Izuku’s shoulder and straight at Aizawa. 

“I believe Aizawa-kun has yet to make the same logical leap. Why don’t you explain while I look over this.”

“Fine.” Izuku took a step away from the desk, then started to pace back and forth, his hands linked together behind his back. 

“Aizawa-sensei. You know I’m an analyst. That’s what I do. I can’t turn it off.”

“I could help you with that,” Aizawa said snidely. 

“You could try,” Izuku shot back. He waved a hand in dismissal. “Anyway. I know I’ve only had two days in which to observe your students, but what I have observed is telling. Every single student you have is uncomfortable around Mineta Minoru. Granted, there is always some student that bothers another for one reason or another. It can be simple, it can be complex, ranging from they eat with their mouth open to they grew up together, then grew apart. But every. Single. Student being uncomfortable? That is not normal. 

“In the case of the girls, there is outright revulsion. In the past two days, I have seen him take every opportunity he can to harass them. I even saw him twice try to peep under their skirts.

“In addition, I did some digging.” Izuku’s lips curled up, baring his teeth into something resembling a snarl. “His great-uncle is one of UA’s funders. But it seems that it wasn’t just UA that owed him favours. In the past four years, Mineta has been charged with petty theft, harrassment, and attempted rape.” He let those words fall like stones from his lips. Heavy, solid, irrefutable.

“Impossible. That would have been caught in the school’s filters,” Aizawa protested, but he didn’t sound so sure anymore.

“True,” Izuku said, anger still simmering in his voice. “The filters would have caught it, normally. But the filters only do a sweep that’s skin deep, and pull up files that snag it, ones haven’t been buried carefully. Remember that great-uncle of his? He paid off dozens of people to let Mineta off scot-free. The proof is there. I don’t know what he did to convince you of his potential, Eraserhead, but I cannot stand for this.”

Izuku was standing in front of Aizawa, facing him, not demure and petite like he normally appeared, but strong and steadfast, blazing with righteous fury. He looked ready to go to war. 

“You’re right.”

Izuku’s jaw dropped. Aizawa looked away.

“If he did as you said, he does not deserve to become a hero. Nedzu?”

“Yes, Aizawa-kun?”

“That corroborates what Midoriya said?”

Nedzu tapped the paper into order and laid it back in the file folder neatly. “It does.”

Aizawa looked over at Izuku who had finally regained control of his jaw, and Izuku looked back steadily.

“Is this going to cause trouble for the school?”

Nedzu tilted his head, giving the question due consideration. “It might. I believe Mineta Sr. might try to cause a ruckus.” He smiled, sharp incisors visible. “I included a clause in the contract that Minoru only got a pass into the school. Expulsion is perfectly acceptable. Regardless, I can handle it. You needn’t worry, Aizawa-kun. Shall I start running the paperwork?”

A hesitation, then Aizawa inclined his head. “If you would be so kind, Nedzu-kouchou.”

“Now, Midoriya-kun. Did you have anything else that you wished to say?”

Izuku hesitated. “Nothing that can’t wait for Friday, sir.”

“Alright then. Thank you, Midoriya-kun for bringing this to my attention. I shall keep this for now, if you don’t mind.” He indicated the file folder of evidence.

“Not at all.”

“Then feel free to run along. Mineta-san will be handled.” A smile threatened to split over the principal’s face. 

Bowing, Izuku left, Aizawa close behind him. The doors swung shut, but not before a cackle broke out from the office, before being shut out by the doors clicking closed. 

“Midoriya.”

Izuku turned and looked at Aizawa. “Sensei.”

The black eyes searched over him. He paused, weighing his words. “Thank you.”

Izuku merely lifted a brow. 

“For watching out for and protecting the students. And for bringing the information to Nedzu.”

“I was just doing my job.” Izuku took out and opened his watch. “I need to get home. Have a good day, Aizawa-sensei.” Without waiting for a reply, Izuku left, hyper-aware of Aizawa watching him leave.

Chapter Text

Izuku lay in bed, arm slung over his forehead, stars glowing a soft green above him. What a day. He’d taught his second class, found at least five students that he thought could benefit from private tutoring, and had helped expel a student. It was only Tuesday . He pressed his hands over his eyes and let out a quiet groan. Even as he was complaining though, a bubbly joy was seeping up through him, making his lips twitch. He curled onto his side, curling his arms around himself tightly. He was making a difference! Ultimately, for all he had wanted to be a hero - making a difference, enacting change, shaping minds around him - that’s what he wanted to be able to do. 

He knew that a lot of the hero industry was corrupt. His analytical mind - no matter how he was momentarily dazzled by the flashy quirks and quick, almost almost choreographed moves of the top heroes - wouldn’t let him forget that. He had wanted to become a hero because he looked up to them. Because that would have meant that he was strong, useful. Capable of saving people. Because, that way, he could change the corruption from the inside, make the hero world a better place. 

But maybe, just maybe, he could teach and support these new heroes enough that the corruption aged, dried up, and flaked away like so much rust and ash. 

Izuku had allowed himself to come in later today; Nedzu didn’t require him until his classes needed to be taught, technically, though he was, as the principal had said, entirely welcome to use the office and school resources. 

But Izuku felt that he had done enough research yesterday. He had found news articles and videos, even one that seemed to have been made by Hydrator himself. Of course, part of the exercise was having the students find their own information, but it was good to have sources on hand. Now, he was prepared in case a student got stuck. 

The bell rang for the start of lunch, and Izuku joined the river of students, easily blending in despite his suit. Before too long, he was at the door to his classroom, and stepped inside. He had eaten before he had left home, and so simply sat and let his thoughts drift. Even though he had prepared the next few days in advance, he still had his work cut out for him - he needed to consolidate his thoughts about what he wanted to change, and what he wanted to present to Nedzu. 

Maybe that was what Nedzu wanted with him. If he was as high a caliber of an analyst as Nedzu and All Might kept insisting, maybe Nedzu wanted the problems of his school looked at from an outside perspective. And if that outside perspective had solutions to said problems, well all the better. 

He frowned as he mulled it over in his head. Nedzu had specifically said Izuku was to find and offer solutions to the problems of UA, and to present them on Friday (though Nedzu had assured Izuku that he could bring any problems and/or solutions to him at any time). Of course, the principal had couched it in such a way that Izuku had presumed that all teachers were under such instructions. Thinking more clearly, and less overwhelmed at the moment however, Izuku thought that was probably unlikely. Teachers like Vlad King and Cementoss could be… not dull or stupid, but less observant to potential issues, more willing to go with the flow and not rock the boat. 

Well, Izuku didn’t feel that way. Boat? Prepared to be rocked. 

As was becoming usual, Iida came in first, but this time he was only a minute or so earlier than the next student. The rest came in in twos or threes chatting - some quietly, some excitedly - until the room was full. Once everyone had seated themselves, and the chatter had mostly died down, Izuku cleared his throat gently. Their attention, gratifyingly, snapped to him. 

“Good afternoon class. I trust your morning went well?”

There was a general mutter of agreement, and Izuku smiled and continued.

“I hope you all enjoyed yesterday’s class, because today we’ll be doing something very similar. I’d like you to get into groups again, but I ask that you try to sit with new people today - no more than one of the same group you were in yesterday! Three to five people please.”

There was a murmur that sounded more disappointed or disgruntled than yesterday’s, but Izuku watched the groupings with an interested eye. 

Some elected to move about in their own pairs. Some split up completely and found a new group on their own. It took a touch longer than last time, as the students figured out who they could sit with versus who they wanted to sit with. Izuku surveyed the groups; it looked like they had done a good job - he didn't have to reassign anyone.

Like last time, he passed out school tablets to those who wanted one, then switched on the projector. The light flickered, buzzed to life, and shone on the projector screen that had rolled down automatically. There were a couple of noises that indicated recognition, some unsure hums, and a smattering of hasty whispers of those that didn't recognize the figure on screen.

"This," Izuku announced, "is Hydrator. Conversely to his name, his quirk is De hydrate, allowing him to dehydrate objects into small cubes. He is known as Hydrator because he hydrates those cubes at the scene. He's most well known for rehydrating several litres of detergent in a mall fountain." More noises of recognition.

"Your job today is to find out as much as you can about Hydrator. His reasonings, his quirk, his history. Pretty much anything, as long as it strikes your fancy.

“Right now, your best friend is other people’s analysis of him. You’re all just starting out, and it’ll be easiest for you to base your thoughts and hypotheses off of secondary sources right now. After you’ve read through a few of those, and have an understanding of what the secondary sources have dug up and their inherent bias, find some videos of him, and draw some of your own conclusions. We have about twenty minutes for preliminary research before we break to discussion, so don’t take too much time! Have fun, and raise your hand or call out if you need any help.” He crossed back to his desk, and shifted back onto it so he was seated, legs swinging. A low buzz of conversation slowly started to rise at a few tables, while others poked at the screens in near silence. 

Izuku waited patiently, letting his eyes unfocus, paying attention to the voices. He could catch snippets of thought here and there, which helped him gain a larger picture of the class as a whole.

Hagakure’s voice, always bubbly, was positively excitable. Something about her loving pranks? With her quirk, she would have been in high demand for sneaky tricks like that. Yaoyorozu was mumbling to herself about the reasons Hydrator may have had, and a minute or so later, he heard the faint scratching of her taking notes.

Out of the corner of his eye, Izuku saw Iida rapidly moving his arm up and down as he debated his point. Something about how ‘pranks were not the way a hero should conduct themselves!’?

Izuku suppressed a snort of laughter. Apparently he didn’t know most of his brother’s stories from high school then, considering that Iida still held Tensei in such high regard.

Time ticked by, slowly for Izuku, but rapidly for the students judging by how they quickly they sat up (like startled rabbits) when Izuku called time. 

“Alright, excellent everyone,” he said, clapping his hands together lightly. “Now, take five minutes and compile your group’s work - what do you have similarly, what do you have that differs? Did you cover the same topics, or several different ones?”

He nodded at them to encourage them to start. After a few moments they did. Izuku’s keen ears caught a grumble from Bakugo, as well as a groan or two - one from Kaminari he thought, but wasn’t sure about the other. 

Notebooks and tablets got shuffled around and the conversation reached a crescendo. Izuku noticed Jirou subtly extend her earjacks and press them to the table just to the sides of two of her teammates. Perhaps to focus more on what they were saying than the probably overwhelming buzz of sound surrounding her? Izuku flipped open his notebook and jotted that down. 

Bakugou growled, and when Izuku looked up, he saw those crimson eyes staring straight at him. 

Keeping his eyes locked on the other boy’s, Izuku very clearly wrote in all-caps BAKUGOU GROWLS AS A WAY TO ESTABLISH DOMINANCE EVEN TO AUTHORITY FIGURES and forced himself not to smirk when Bakugou visibly ground his teeth.

Kaminari raised his hand. 

Izuku hopped down from the desk and went over to him. He smiled at the assorted group. “What’s up?” Kaminari looked away. Aoyama had his head planted on the desk. Satou looked uncomfortable, but spoke up when it became apparent that no one else was going to speak.

“Midoriya-sensei,” he started, “we’re a little confused on how to compile our research?”

Izuku nodded. “That can be a very hard part. I know I had trouble with that when I was younger.” He ignored Aoyama’s mildly incredulous look.

He stole Mineta’s old chair and sat at the table with the group. “Alright, let’s see what you’ve got.” They passed their notebooks to him, as well as a tablet. He clicked a pen a few times, focusing on the writing before him. Hmmmm.

“Alright, so you all covered three points between you, his history, his quirk, and his potential accomplices. Very nice.” He spread the notebooks in front of him so the students could see. 

“See here, how all three of you wrote what his quirk was?” He circled above each point lightly with a spare pencil. “That’s a commonality. And see here, these three points on his get-away-plans? You all wrote some kind of sentence on how he probably had another person aiding him, though you’re not sure who. That can be boiled down into just one sentence - Potentially has an unknown accomplice for egress, or something of the sort.” They all nodded. 

“Now, you all disagreed on his reasoning.” At the shifty looks they all exchanged, he waved his hands. “No, no, it’s absolutely fine that you’re disagreeing! That means that you either all read different articles, or saw something the others didn’t. Remember, you don’t actually know - this kind of broad analysis is for guesswork. There’s no right or wrong answers here; you’re still at the information gathering stage. And once you remove fact from fiction, you’re that much closer to gaining a better understanding of Hydrator.”

They nodded, slowly. Izuku could tell that Kaminari wasn’t entirely sure about what he had said - though whether it was what Izuku said or Kaminari’s own doubts he couldn’t be positive. He looked at the tablet in front of him. Six minutes had gone by. He stood, patted the table in farewell, went to the front of the class and clapped his hands again to gain their attention. They all looked over at him. 

“Are you all ready?” he asked. A chorus of agreement (and a smaller one of groans) answered him, and he brought the lights back up, switching off the projector as he did so. The whiteboard appeared behind him. He uncapped a marker and turned to the class. 

“Alright!” he said happily. “Which of you covered Hydrator’s quirk in any capacity?” All of them raised their hands. “His reasoning?” Two of the tables raised their hands, and then three for those who had covered his history/family. “Anyone else?”

Yaoyorozu raised her hand and spoke at his nod. “My group also covered accomplices and locations targeted.”

“Wonderful. I’m very pleased with what you’ve all accomplished so far.” Izuku finished writing the various headings on the board. 

“Now, we’ll start with Kirishima’s table here. Kirishima-kun, if you or one of your group would like to stand and tell me what you discovered about his quirk?”

Kirishima took the stand, stumbling a bit over a word here or there, but otherwise doing an excellent job. His group had found and agreed on that Hydrator could dehydrate non-living items, that the cubes changed in size depending on the size of item dehydrated, and he used single-use water bottle - the kind with thin, crinkly plastic - to wet the cubes when he was in a location that didn’t have a fountain or something similar.

They disagreed on just one point: one student said that it was entirely plausible that he could cube living things, while another claimed it was next to impossible. 

As Kirishima’s table had only covered quirks and not any other sections, he bade the redhead to sit down and moved onto the next table.

It didn’t take long to go through their points, and by the time the fifth group gave their report, Izuku had completely covered the board. 

Izuku jotted down the last point, recapped the marker, took a step back from the board and whistled. “I,” he said, “am very impressed. This was excellent work for a group so new to analysis.”

He turned and faced the class, with a smile that had an edge of a bite to it. “Now,” he said, “for the fun part. Now, we take all of this accumulated knowledge and figure out what is known, what is likely, unlikely, and impossible.” He rubbed his hands together, for a moment looking far too much like their dear principal. Fortunately, none of the students present had had the pleasure of meeting Nedzu yet, so the comparison went unnoticed. 

Shouji raised a hand. He stood, towering over the rest of his group and said simply, “It’s known that he dehydrates items and rehydrates them at public places. It’s likely that he scouts those places out beforehand, and I believe it’s unlikely that he can cube living creatures, though I don’t know about plants and ‘living’ matter such as that.” He quickly sat after that appearing to be a bit nervous with the attention of nineteen other pairs of eyes on him. 

Izuku pulled out another whiteboard from behind the first, sliding it into place. He wrote down what Shouji said, then addressed him. “Very well done. Does anyone else have something to add to what Shouji-kun has said, or refute any of his points?”

Two hands went up. “Jirou-kun, go ahead.”

Class B was undergoing a lively discussion as to how tiny and large Hydrator could cube objects when Izuku called attention to the clock. “I think we have time for one more point if anyone else would like to speak."

Kodai stood. He nodded at her.

“I believe in Monoma’s earlier point, Midoriya-sensei. He had said that he thought there was a purpose behind the places he had hit. Shouda-kun and I were looking at some of the places that Hydrator had hit. She pulled up a page on her tablet, and showed it to Izuku. 

“One of the stores at the mall he had left bubbles at had been under suspicion of money laundering. We believe that Hydrator’s attack allowed the police to take a closer look. At the bank where he had left the mannequin, there had been rumors that the villain apprehended for bank robbery was not guilty and had been falsely accused.”

Izuku grinned wide. He had hoped that someone would make that kind of connection. “ Very good, Kodai-kun, Shouda-kun, Monoma-kun,” he said, nodding to each of the students in turn. “That is absolutely next-level thinking. Looking at the facts, and then thinking weeks before and ahead of those facts, and putting them together? I wouldn’t expect that kind of thinking even from students more than a year your senior.”

The bell rang then. Izuku smiled at all of the class. “Incredible work today. I hope to see more of this in the future. Good luck with the rest of your classes!” he added, before leaving the class, heading toward his office. He had a lot of information to code. 

He grinned at his notebooks as he finished up Shouda’s file. He was so damn proud. Not even three full days, and his class was already starting to delve into the intricacies of what analysis could mean. It was also pretty fortuitous - the next day they would be covering what analysis could be used for. 

Izuku nibbled on a pencil. He had tomorrow’s class all planned, but what about Friday’s? Speaking of Friday, his meeting with Nedzu was after class that day, and he needed to finish writing up his proposal. After a few moments thought, he decided that the proposal was more pressing. He turned on the computer in front of him. Might as well use the resources in front of him instead of forcing Nedzu to read more of his writing. 

He pulled open his coded notebook to the section that had his ideas. So far, his ideas included:

• Sign language, or at least field signs
• Setting up office hours for himself
• Allowing all students access to him/his office
• A private office or space where students would feel comfortable discussing their quirks
• Book a gym for quirk demonstration; When, where, a weekly or regular booking as a possibility?
• Shadow the heroics students/teachers, at least during the foundational heroics/physical education classes (eg. when they use their quirks)
• Dress code
• Free/discounted supplies for students
• Therapy (?)

He frowned at that last point. He didn’t know if something incredibly traumatizing had happened to the class as a whole in a way that would let him push for recommended therapy for the whole class, but... He rubbed at his forehead. There were some kids that therapy wouldn’t hurt, even if they only used it to gain coping mechanisms - and a few that needed it, if only to curb their more murderous impulses. He had gone to therapy himself - it had helped him lose his nervous stutter, and taught him how to keep his muttering in check. 

Wait…

Didn’t UA keep a counsellor on staff? Something about a dog? He navigated to UA’s faculty listing. Right. Inui Ryou, Hero Name: Hound Dog. His quirk, Dog (and really, do they actually let four-year-olds name these quirks?), gave him the appearance of a bi-pedal dog, and from what Izuku knew, also gave him the senses of a dog, like a heightened sense of smell, as well as likely a boost in speed and strength. Izuku had to wonder at the inclusion of a muzzle as part of his hero costume though.

Regardless, if the students were free to meet with the counsellor, Izuku didn’t have to push for therapy, but rather for awareness of therapy that was already offered. He took a deep breath in and perused his notes. Was he missing anything else? After a few minutes of concentrated looking, Izuku shook his head. Most of his notes had been taken for specific students in mind, or for things that Nedzu couldn’t help with. And, he reminded himself, he was allowed to not bring everything up at once. 

He edited the last bullet point to read:

• Increase awareness of therapy availability

and leaned back in his chair, let his aching eyes close. He flexed his hands and wrists gently to ease the stress and ache from writing so much. It may have only been Wednesday, but he was tired. Teaching two groups of twenty students was completely different from the schooling and training Nedzu had put him through. He sighed, remembering.

“Midoriya-kun, I’m so pleased you managed to hack your way into the interface,” Nedzu’s cheery voice echoed through the earpiece Izuku wore. “Unfortunately, you tripped a wire on your way in! Better shut it down before the whole thing blows!”

Six months ago, Izuku might have scoffed at the thought of the information-hoarding rat deliberately blowing up his own server to teach Izuku a lesson. Two months ago, he might have frozen in fear out of the knowledge that the principal meant his threats. But now, Izuku only focused even harder, his fingers a blur on the keyboard.

On second thought, maybe it was best not to remember.

He stretched luxuriously, letting his head dip back and pointing his toes before giving himself a brisk shake. He wondered if he should pick something up for dinner on his way home. He pulled out his phone and checked the messages. A few from the group chat, which he ignored for the moment, and one from his mom.

Izuku , it read, I’m planning on picking up fried chicken on my way home. Will you be back by 5:30 or so?

Izuku’s eyes flicked up to the time. It was nearly five. He quickly typed out a reply.

Yes, I can make it home for then! Looking forward to it \(^ o ^)/

He glanced at his desk. It was a bit of a mess, with his notebooks scattered about like that. The computer was still on, the screen showing his word document. He yawned and flipped through his scrap notebook. Deciding that he had gotten every bit of information out of it and properly encoded, Izuku let it fall into the shredder’s grasping teeth. He packed up his usual items - jacket, water bottle, good notebooks, pens - and then clicked ‘print’ on the word processor. One of the printers whirred to life. Izuku minimized the screen, and made his way over to the happily churning printer. Once the single page had been spat out, Izuku brought it back to his desk, and slipped it into a file folder and locked it in the filing cabinet.

He looked at the desk again. Probably as neat as it would get with him. Still standing, he leaned over the desktop, resized the word document and deleted it before shutting the computer down. He stretched once again and headed home. He couldn’t wait to have some fried chicken!

Chapter Text

Izuku practically bounced on the way home, eager for freshly fried chicken. He skipped all the way up to their apartment and let himself in. “I’m home!” he sang out.

His mother laughed. “Welcome home, darling. I just got back myself. Go and get changed out of those nice clothes,” she added with a smile. “No need to get grease all over your suit.”

“Good point,” Izuku said, looking down at himself. Izuku didn’t know how much this suit cost, exactly, but he had the sneaking suspicion that it was more than his mother made in a month or three. This was one that Nedzu had provided him before he started work. It was well-tailored, or at least Izuku assumed so. It fit better than any of his other clothes did anyway. His mom had waxed on about how the shade of material suited his colouring and the shape his form, and she would know better than him. He was a fashion disaster, and while not exactly proud of it, had accepted it as fact. 

Better than the fit or colouring though, was the demonstration Nedzu had provided at the same time as his notebooks. It was acid, fire and heat, water, shock, stab, and slice proof. Apparently, special scissors had to be used in the making - no normal ones would cut it.

Nedzu had drawn the line at shooting at his suit, but had assured Izuku that it should work as well as a standard bullet-proof vest. A part of Izuku wondered if this was really all that necessary… But better safe than sorry. Another part hissed that it was because he was a quirkless liability, unable to do anything because he didn’t have a quirk to rely on. That Nedzu had to take every precaution he could, because Izuku was fragile. Delicate. As breakable as bone china. 

Izuku shoved those hissing, muttering voices away from the forefront of his thoughts, and swiftly changed, hanging his suit up to air for now, and slipping on one of his old shirts, softened from too many washings, ripped at the hems, and splotched with paint. He probably didn’t need to worry that much about grease stains, but he wasn’t exactly the neatest eater either.

He hurried back to the kitchen. The scent of the chicken reached his nose and he breathed it in in appreciation.

He slid his chair out and sat across from his mom. She had already dished him out some, and with a quick Itadakimasu , they both dug in.

The first few minutes were quiet, their mouths full. Then, Izuku cracked a grin and said, “wow mom, this is amazing! Why can’t you cook this good all the time?” 

She huffed out a laugh, and using Pull, yanked the drumstick he was about to bite out of his hand. She let it fall to the plate, raising her eyebrows at him.

He mimed crying, apologizing profusely in an overly dramatic manner. She laughed again and passed him back the drumstick. He quickly shoved it in his mouth, just in case she thought she was the funny one and tried to yank it back. 

Both of them smiling and chuckling a little under their breaths at each other, the two finished their meal in companionable silence. 

Izuku stretched, then stood. He collected the plates from the table, ignoring his mother’s half-hearted admonishments that she could do the dishes tonight, Izuku! He ignored her blithely and began washing up, humming as he did so. 

She came up next to him and placed the rest of the dirty dishware beside the sink, giving him a gentle bump of the shoulder. 

“Go have your bath mom, you look really tired,” he told her, examining her face critically. Though her cheeks still held a flush from the warmth of chicken and laughter, her skin was paler than it should be, and drier. The bags he had noticed a few days previous were still there - not worse, but not any better either. The way she leaned on him, braced herself on the counter was telling. She was tired, and overworked. He nudged his head into hers. 

“Relax. Use some of those nice oils or whatever you have that you’ve saved for special occasions.”

Inko leaned into Izuku, letting him take more of her weight. 

“I’ll do that,” she murmured. “Thank you darling. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

He watched her go, feeling troubled. Was she getting sick? Was there something else going on at work that she hadn’t told him about? A boss, or co-worker giving her trouble? He let out a frustrated breath. He probably couldn’t do anything about the root problem, not when he didn’t know what it was, but he would do what he could. Make their house warm and welcoming, make her favourite foods, give her opportunities to relax. 

He finished up the dishes and watched the dirty water swirl down the drain, drying his hands. He scrubbed at his face and hair. He would do what he could. That was all he could do, he reminded himself. It would have to be enough.

Izuku sat at his desk, tapping his pencil idly. Tomorrow he was planning on educating the class on just what analysis could do for them. Maybe he should make a plan? He knew so many ways that analysis could help that he was half afraid that he would rant for the entire class, overwhelming his students in the process. It couldn’t hurt to draw one up, he decided, and started to sketch out an outline that he thought he could be trusted to follow. 

Once he was happy that he would be able to cover the most salient points, without going too in depth into anything, Izuku thought for a few minutes of what he wanted to cover Friday. Then he let out another forceful breath. He wasn’t sure if he had no idea, or too many ideas to be able to focus on it. His phone beeped.

Taking the cue for what it was, Izuku unlocked his phone and glanced at the notifications. Ah, the group chat. Right, Izuku remembered that he hadn’t looked at the old ones that had been sent earlier that day either. Might as well take a look now. 

The first three messages were all cat pictures. They were from ‘give me coffee or give me death,’ which made Izuku smile a little. Now that he had met Aizawa in person, he couldn’t say the name didn’t suit him. The man looked like he survived off of instant meals and lots of very strong coffee. Apparently he was a cat person. 

The next was from who he thought was Vlad King.

Blood Fetish: I can’t believe some of my kids. You’d think they’d have some sense of subtlety, finesse!

1+3=4=death: Which was it this time?

Blood Fetish: Well, first, ‘Tetsu just smashed right on through the obstacle. Which was protecting the civilian dummy he was supposed to save, might I add.

Blood Fetish: Then Shiozaki refused to fight her classmates for the sparring portion. I know she wants to be a rescue hero more than a combat-oriented one, but still!

As Izuku watched, another message popped up

Blood Fetish: Is it too much to ask for a little balance??

That was it. Balance. Way too many heroes decided on what area of heroics they wanted to specialize in early on, and from then, only bothered to learn about that field, dismissing anything apart from it as unimportant. It led to far too many heroes who were geared towards rescue but couldn’t throw - or block - a punch, or combat-oriented heroes that wouldn’t know the first thing about evacuation procedures if it bit them on the ass. Along with the idea that if their quirk wasn’t suited for a problem, there was nothing they could do, those were some of the major problems in Heroics. 

Balance. What were good examples of heroes and hero teams that exhibited those traits - and what bad ones?

Endeavor popped to mind almost immediately, but he dismissed it after only a moment. That was Todoroki-kun’s father, and it wouldn’t do to shit-talk the number 2 hero in front of his son. 

Ingenium though… That was a possibility. He was very well rounded, using his quirk to both rescue people and to take on villains. He also was well known for teamwork and working in groups as a norm rather than the exception. That was also something his students could stand to learn, if he was any judge. 

So Ingenium specifically, and Idaten as a whole as good examples. 

Who else.

He let his gaze roam around his room, locking onto one of the figurines he had. Ragdoll, of the Wild Wild Pussycats. Now there was a well-rounded team. 

Though they were a rescue team that specialized in forested and mountainous environments, he knew for a fact that they were all incredibly adept fighters, working in unison seamlessly. Though only half had traditional combat quirks, all four were fearsome combatants. 

Now bad ones…

Izuku covered his mouth to cover the mutters that wanted to erupt. So many of the heroes that he’d seen on a daily basis… He bit his lip. He’d had to deal with his fair share of them too. 

There was this one hero that Izuku had only seen a few times, something about Slip ‘n’ Slides? Anyway, he had a sliding quirk of some sort, but despite the speed and maneuverability that it would give him, Izuku had never actually seen this hero… do anything? Instead, he would appear at the last moment before a battle or evacuation was over, hang around, pose for cameras, then zip off again. 

That wasn’t so much about balance as it was about doing literally anything at all though…

Hmmmm.

Izuku tilted back in his chair, hands comfortably interlocked behind his head.

Wasn’t there an incident last year? Something the HPSC had reported on instead of sweeping under the rug? Izuku picked his phone back up and tapped in his query. Right. Glass Cannon, a hero with a quirk that allowed him to fire glass nuggets at high speeds. He had received a lot of public disapproval because after he had defeated the villain, he had just stood there awkwardly instead of helping either clean up the mess left by his quirk or initiation of or even assisting with evacuation procedures. 

And wasn’t there a hero not even a month back that had quit after a good dozen years of civilian support and general work because she had her first major villain fight? Lukane had been her hero name. Her quirk hadn’t had anything to do with luck or money, but rather she could conjure a gentle rainfall if the ground was dry. She was popular in the rural areas where she had worked previously, because she helped with the watering, but when a villain threatened, she had run away. When the villain gave chase, she had been injured, and ducked out as soon as another hero arrived. 

Though that had been understandable, to a degree, she had also received a lot of public disapproval. Izuku forced himself back into a sitting position and sighed. Those four, along with just the general knowledge of how heroes acted should be enough for Friday. 

Izuku stood and stretched. Then he glared at the floor. Time for the nightly exercises now. Such a damn pain. He dropped down and began.

The next morning dawned bright and early, and after suffering his way through his exercises again, Izuku spent the morning with his notebooks, the news, and tea for company. Then he showered, got dressed in one of his suits, and prepared to leave. 

Today’s lecture was important to him. Analysis was… a part of him. It was what had brought him to this place, what had brought him joy when he was younger. It let him see the world. And he was about to lecture forty students on it. He huffed out a breath and locked the door behind him. 

The transit wasn’t overly crowded, but Izuku chose to stand regardless, knowing that if he took weight off his legs at least one of them would be jittering anxiously. He let a hero podcast play softly in one ear while he left the other open to listen for his stop. Despite knowing the way like the back of his hand, Izuku was still paranoid that one day he wouldn’t pay attention and miss his stop and be late and then he would get fired and-

No, Izuku told himself firmly, stopping the spiral in its tracks. This was not the time. It was nothing more than a waste of time and energy. Defiantly, he popped the other earbud in his ear. He would not miss his stop just because he had both headphones in.

Less than a minute later, he took it out again. His anxiety wouldn’t be so quickly defeated this time, apparently. 

The ride wasn't much longer, and after a short walk and a few moments navigating the hallways, Izuku let himself into the classroom quietly, placing his bag on the floor, and taking out the outline he had created. It was only a few minutes to the warning bell, and he took the time to read over it again, lips moving silently, thoughts whirring. Was there enough information? Maybe he should add in that sub-clause that he had erased last night? Maybe there was too much? Should he cut out the part near the end? He let out a long, slow breath. What was done was done. If there was time left over, the students could ask questions, or he could quiz them on practical applications. If time went over, he would finish the lesson the next day. It was fine.

The warning bell rang. Izuku fished out his water bottle and placed it on the desk, then wondered how best to give the lecture. Standing would increase his lung capacity and help give him more range, sitting might be more comfortable but could give off an air of uncaring or disinterest. He shrugged and hopped back onto the desk, letting his legs dangle over the edge. This way, he was sitting upright, had about the same height he would if he were standing, and was more comfortable. 

As was becoming a habit, Iida came into the room first. Izuku saw him almost physically restrain himself from reprimanding him (apparently ‘teacher’s authority’ won out over ‘treating furnishings with respect’ in Iida’s mind), followed by Uraraka. The rest of the class slowly trickled in. 

Izuku noted how the class was feeling. Iida had followed up on a conversation with Uraraka, his hands making softer chops, while Uraraka seemed hard put to contain her laughter. Hagakure was moving more slowly than usual, her usually energetic movements slowed. His brow furrowed. Was she ill? He had to admit that her quirk was useful for many situations, but this was not one of them. He wondered if he could get Aizawa in here and erase her quirk for a minute so he could see how she was doing… He made a note of that. Tokoyami also seemed sleepy, his eyes blinking a touch slower, his feathers puffed out. Dark Shadow, whom Izuku had seen a few times throughout class was resting over his shoulder, looking for all the world like it was snoring. Kaminari had leaned over and was showing Mina something on his phone, their eyes focused on the screen, and as he watched, both of them cackled in amusement. 

Bakugou seemed subdued. He shot Izuku a hot glare, but sat easily without the noise and clatter (and explosions) that Izuku had seen and felt far too often in elementary and middle school. Izuku considered him for a long moment. He felt caught between extremes with Bakugou. On one hand, he had been his friend for his whole life, even when he stopped actually being a friend. He honestly wanted the best for him. 

On the other? He’d also been Izuku’s abuser since before Bakugou’s quirk had come in. He was viscerally afraid of him. It took everything in him not to flinch, stutter, tremble. He didn’t want Bakugou near him, staring at him, judging him. 

There had to be a line between pushing Bakugou to succeed and pulling away, no matter how fine, that Izuku could walk. All he had to do was find it. 

It didn’t take too much longer before everyone was settled. Izuku opened his bottle and took a sip, closing the cap with a loud snick. The class turned and looked at him.

“I hope you’re all doing well today,” Izuku began, “and that you’re ready to listen. Today’s going to be a bit different than the last few. Today, I’m going to teach you about why analysis is so important, and why this class was created.” He smiled at them. “Ready?”

He flipped open his book, and took in a breath. 

“Analysis is used for most things, though of course it differs by job. Stores use it to determine the best shelves to stock groceries, and to plan when they should staff extra people. Police use it to profile criminals, and heroes can use it for rescue, recon, and combat.

“In the heroic field, there are three types of analysis used. The first is on the fly, and for most combat-oriented heroes, this is the one to succeed in. If you can analyze what the villain in front of you might do, how they tend to fight, how their quirk works, if they will take hostages, or if they are more likely to escape if they have a chance, not only makes your job easier and quicker, it also increases the chance of you getting out alive."

Izuku looked over his book at his students. His eyes flashed. “I want to make this clear. Heroics is a dangerous business. Many die in the field every year. If you are skilled at on-the-fly analysis, you’ll only increase your chances at surviving. 

“The next is planned analysis. This type of analysis is typically taken care of by associates at hero agencies, or analysis agencies on the payroll of the heroes. This analysis takes dozens of things into account, ranging from the traffic that day, what villains or heroes might choose to encroach, or in some cases, persistent villains that do not get caught for whatever reason. This analysis is what you’re most likely to hear about once you’re heroes. A particularly tenacious villain can be taken down only if we understand them. This type of analysis is also used for recon missions. The more you can learn about a place, hostages, villains, reasons behind the crime, the more likely it will be that everyone will get out alive. 

“The third type is analysis that is used on yourself; internal analysis. You need to be aware of everything around you, yes, but of those things,  your own being is one of the most important. You can only change and affect so much - you are not in active control of anything but yourself. 

“Your body, your emotions, your mind, and your quirk are all things that you need to be aware of, need to know and understand the changes. Say you had a major life event happen, good or bad, and you’re still reeling. Now’s not the time to go out on patrol. You might think you’re fine, but I, personally, would rather you be safe than sorry. There’s a reason that hero agencies tend to employ so many - if you’re not at your peak, you endanger not only the people around you, but also yourself.

“As a side note, I’m aware that you’re all likely very eager to move onto analyzing your own quirks,” Izuku said, noting with a wry grin how all of them perked up at that. “However,” he added, “that’s still in the works, and is currently unfeasible at the moment. While some of your quirks are more,” he tilts his head, thinking of the right words, “contained than others, I don’t think this classroom would be able to handle all of them. I’ll be speaking to the principal tomorrow about both shadowing your hero classes and opening up a gym for our use when we’re not doing in-class work.”

There was a cheer at that, and Izuku grinned. He loved it when he could make people happy. 

Bakugou didn’t move, didn’t cheer, didn’t even bare his teeth in his trademarked cock-sure grin. He just looked at Izuku, eyes as heavy as gravity, as heated as fire. Izuku shivered. 

“The next thing we have to be aware of…

__

“...and always remember, it doesn’t matter how you come to your conclusions - even a gut feeling can give you important data. If you can corroborate it with others, or link it to other data, that gut feeling can save lives.

“Having an analyst on staff can save lives, prevent injury, and give you important data in all aspects of your career. Being able to perform analysis on the fly in the field gives you and your team a fighting chance. So learn all you can here, alright?”

The students grinned at him and chanted “Yes Sensei!” back at him. A little stunned by the enthusiastic response, he coughed, adjusted his collar, and smiled back. 

"Alright we have a few minutes left, so you can either ask me questions or talk quietly amongst yourselves," Izuku told them, starting to gather up his things in preparation. 

As he expected, most of the class turned to one another excitingly discussing the class. Or not, he thought wryly, overhearing Tetsutetsu and Tsuburaba making plans to go to the arcade. Monoma looked thoughtful, as if he wanted to ask a question but quickly got dragged into a conversation.

The bell rang, and Izuku bid them goodbye, then headed to the office. Time to re-code all he had done - and learned.

He added his usual notes to the students' files, and as a bit of an afterthought, noted down where their moods seemed unlike normal. Who knows, it could be useful in the future some day. 

As Izuku had told his students, everything had a reason, a cause and effect. He's seeing the effect, not the cause right now, but with enough clues, Izuku would find out the reason, and if he could, try to fix it.

He sighed. He thought he was ready for tomorrow. For his class too, yes, but he was mostly worried for his meeting with Nedzu. He didn't think he had anything to be worried about, not really, but that was anxiety for you. There didn't really need to be a reason.

Nedzu was a complicated creature. Small, but surprisingly strong, moral in a way that Izuku had rarely seen, incredibly intelligent, willing to go to great lengths to raise people to greatness - or to burn them to the ground. 

He had impressed upon Izuku his appreciation for Izuku's intelligence and analytical abilities, and intellectually, Izuku knew that even if Nedzu did not agree with his points, he would at the very least think them through. But he didn't think Nedzu would refuse him things that were within his power. 

It didn't stop his worry though. Izuku blew out his breath, took another, and stood. He sorted his files, slipped his scrap journal into the shredder, and packed up. Then his phone chirped.

A message from him mom, letting him know she was staying late. He frowned. She had left early that morning. Was something else going on? He brought his hand up in an unconscious gesture, covering his mouth so no one could read his lips, and adding an additional layer protection to stop people from hearing in case any muttering slipped out.

Could it be that she had met someone? No; she would be exhibiting signs of shyness, happiness, embarrassment, showing a flush, daydreaming, or talking about a new person at work in that case. 

Could it be that she was having trouble at work? Could someone be bullying her, a superior giving her unnecessary work, a kouhai that was taking up her time? Patrons, co-workers, or one of her bosses unhappy with her work?

Izuku shook his head harshly, chasing the thoughts from his mind. This was something that he didn't have enough information on, something that he was almost definitely going to get wrong with the limited signs he was able to parse. 

He'd have to talk to her, he thought, then bit his lip. He didn't want to confront her when she has already worked a full day. 

Friday then, if he wasn't too tired, if she got home at a normal time.

Friday.

Chapter Text

Friday.

Izuku’s nerves had made it hard to get to sleep, and he found himself waking up much earlier than he had planned. Almost an entire hour earlier, he noted, glancing at his clock. He reached over and deactivated the alarm. He wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep now. He stood and stretched, and reached for his workout clothes. Normally he saved a longer run for the weekend, but apparently, his body demanded the extra exercise right then and there. He got dressed quickly, padding out of his room into the hall. He sat at the entrance way to put on his running shoes, noting that while his mother’s shoes were there, they weren’t lined up. Unusual for her. He let out a breath, and nudged them into alignment. Pocketing the apartment key, he locked up behind him and started off at a slow walk to warm up his muscles. 

Before long, he was going faster, breath coming out in clouds of white. 

“Look daddy, look mommy! I breathe smoke, just like daddy does sometimes!”

Both the adults laughed quietly, trading soft looks. 

“You mean like this?” His father’s teasing growl had him looking up, eyes wide.

First a cloud of normal steam, then a stream of smoke, and finally licks of flame poured out of his mouth. Izuku squealed in delight and jumped up and down. Hisashi reached down, tossing Izuku gently up into the air, blowing hot air over Izuku’s cold-pinkened cheeks. 

Izuku nuzzled into his father’s chest, as the two adults linked hands and strolled onwards.

Izuku smiled at the memory, bittersweet though it was. He remembered trying to yank objects to him, to breathe fire, to do anything. He remembered contorting his fingers into wild shapes, staring unblinking at objects and people, jumping around on one foot. Anything that might trigger a quirk. 

Even after that fateful doctor’s visit though, he hadn’t stopped trying for more than a year. 

Of course it was no use. Izuku… hadn’t really expected it to be. But hope springs eternal… for a while.

Eventually the insults and the jeers and the bullying got to be too much. Where he used to be a happy-go-lucky child, obsessed with quirks and mysteries and how the world worked, with Kacchan as his best friend and the world at his fingertips… he turned into a quiet, nervous, terrified child, then youth, then teen. 

If he was honest with himself, he still was that nervous, quiet, terrified teen. He was just better at hiding it now. 

His time with Nedzu and All Might had done wonders as well, he admitted to himself, still jogging at a steady clip. The first thing Nedzu had taught him was that confidence in humans was a powerful thing. When Izuku had protested that he didn't have any confidence to speak of, Nedzu had introduced him to the concept of 'fake it 'till you make it,' a pre-quirk term. It worked with numerous things, Nedzu had assured him, but confidence… confidence was the key. 

Izuku hadn't really believed Nedzu. It was one thing to know how smart the principal was intellectually, and a totally different one to trust a rat/dog/bear/stoat hybrid telling you something that sounded like total malarkey. 

But Izuku had followed what Nedzu had said, faking confidence and projecting an aura of calm and self-assurance. This confidence, fake though it may be, had helped him stand up for himself, be more aware of who he was and what he could really do. And what he couldn't do? He could fake, pretend, and goddamn do it anyway.

He huffed out a breath, following the plume of steam with his eyes, then shaking his head firmly to chase the lingering memories away. 

He ran on.

He let himself back in the apartment, sweat still slicking his skin, breath still a little fast. He toed off his shoes, hung up his keys and feeling gross, debated skipping the rest of his morning exercises. He wanted a shower, but on the other hand these exercises were supposed to be done twice a day…

Huffing at his own reluctance, he started the exercises anyway, knowing that if he at least started, he’d get some exercise in.

After, he hurried to the bathroom to shower. Once finished, he spent some time trying to wring the water out of his stubborn curls. If he didn’t, water would drip down his neck and shoulders for hours afterwards. Changing into a set of lounging clothes, Izuku, still buzzing from residual anxiety - a feeling he knew wouldn’t go away until after the meeting tonight - reviewed his notes, biting at his lip. He was prepared. He was. Now if he could only convince himself of that.

He took several deep breaths, even and slow in an effort to force some semblance of calm. Even after running and doing his daily exercises, his limbs still trembled with nervous energy. He stood and stretched, closing his eyes and keeping them shut as he moved slowly, calmly through a series of stretches, focusing on his body and the way the muscles within shifted from a cramped, buzzing mass to long smooth fibres that flexed and pulled obediently with his will.

He stood tall from his last stretch, pulling himself up to his full height, before folding over, and sinking to the floor, pulling himself into a neat tailor’s seat and letting his mind drift, pushing away thoughts. They could wait. Right now was the time for peace and calm.

The problem with meditation, Izuku mused to himself as he let his eyes open and see his surroundings once again, that while it was a popular way to help with anxiety, it also necessitated the ability to be able to conquer anxiety enough that you could get any benefit from the meditation itself. 

Now that he was awake, exercised, showered, and relaxed, his stomach growled. Time for breakfast apparently. 

He left his room, hand idly rubbing at his stomach to ease the grumbling. “Chill,” he told his stomach with a laugh. “You’ll get fed soon enough.” He wondered what there was for him to scrounge up. His mom had just gone to pick up fried chicken, but he wondered if she had picked up any other necessities. He poked around in the refrigerator for a minute or two. There were four eggs left, half a litre of milk, a handful of assorted veggies, some leftover miso soup from last night, and a couple of condiments on the shelves. 

In the cupboards was half a loaf of bread and a bag of rice. Izuku checked the time. He wanted to get to the school earlier rather than later, and rice took longer to cook than toast would. Guess it was a western-style breakfast today.

Izuku pulled up his sleeves and got to work. Eggs cracked and mixed with a splash of milk, whipped up to a froth with a fork. Onions, red pepper, and some leafy vegetable were chopped up and tossed into the hot skillet with a splash of water. As those warmed and started to soften, Izuku ducked back into fridge to pull out the leftover soup. He let it start to gently reheat in a pot. 

Tossing a piece of red pepper into his mouth with a flick of his chopsticks, Izuku decided it was soft enough. He shook the veggies onto a spare plate, added a pat of butter, whisked up the eggs once again, and poured them into the greased skillet. The harsh sizzling told him he had done it properly, and he rinsed out the bowl with a small smile. He pulled out two pieces of bread and slid them into the toaster. Did they still have...

Success! Izuku dug out a flexible silicone spatula to nudge the eggs into the proper configuration. 

Once he thought the eggs were set enough, Izuku slid the vegetables onto the fluffy mass, then with a wriggle of the spatula and a flick of his wrist, the omelette was finished. Just as he placed the eggs onto his plate, the toast popped up. Perfect timing!

Izuku spent only a few moments longer fixing his toast before he was sitting at the table and digging in. Today was looking up.

Today was not looking up. 

Izuku scowled up at the sky. Earlier had been cloudy yes, but he hadn’t thought it would rain. His hair was already drenched again and people were giving him looks. Izuku wondered if it was because he looked like a drowned rat, or because he looked like a drowned rat in a perfectly dry suit. Should he stop at a convenience store on the way and pick up an umbrella? Was there even a point? He was already wet. Maybe he could borrow a towel from someone…

The subway pulled up chiming gently, and he along with the rest of the poor damp people was shunted onto the train. 

He hadn’t even thought to bring a coat, but even as he thought that, he realized he wasn’t cold either. His eyebrows rose. Nedzu sure knew how to pick a suit. 

Thankfully the ride wasn’t very long, and his hair still dripped, water rolling down the fabric of his suit as he hurried down UA’s drive. His messenger bag wasn’t so lucky. It absorbed the water like a sponge and Izuku scowled down at it. He hoped the water wasn’t going to seep through to his books and notes… Even if his nicer notebooks were water-resistant…

He froze for a minute, almost tripping over thin air before he managed to come to a complete stop. The printed list of improvements! He ripped open the cover of his bag, heedless now of the rain still pouring down. He rifled through the contents, only to pause as a realization sunk in. He had printed it off and then locked it in the filing cabinet. Thank the gods.  

His heart was pounding, harder than it had during his run by far. He nudged his things back into alignment, flipped the bag closed, then took in a deep breath, sliding a firm hand from the base of his throat, down his chest, to his stomach in an attempt to calm his heart. He let the rain fall around him. Calm down, he told himself quietly. All will be well. You are ready for this. All will be well.

He didn’t see the red eyes watching him. 

Izuku entered UA without further fanfare. He bit at one of his nails wondering where the best place to find a towel for his hair would be. Maybe in a lost-or-found? 

His thoughts trailed off when he saw his desk. Everything was in place… with the addition of a large, fluffy towel folded neatly in front of the computer. A soft smile overtook the surprise. It didn’t surprise Izuku in the least that Nedzu had deduced that he would forget his umbrella today. 

“Thank you, principal,” Izuku murmured quietly. He draped the towel over his head so it could get a headstart on soaking up the water. It could have been his imagination, but he thought he heard a laugh through the thick terrycloth. He didn’t notice an outbreak of cold sweat on the two teachers in the office with him. 

He grabbed thick handfuls of his hair through the towel, squeezing out the water. He worked at it for a few minutes, wringing the water out for the second time that day with his head down-tilted when he saw black boots stepping towards him, pausing a moment, and then approaching even quieter from beneath the towel. 

He waited just a moment after the feet came to a complete standstill. 

“Hello Aizawa-sensei.”

It was hard to tell with a towel draped over his head, but Izuku thought Aizawa might have started, a minor twitch of his left foot giving him away. 

The floor took on a slightly pinkish hue. Izuku shoved the towel back out of his face and met Aizawa’s quirked gaze squarely. 

“Is that just a startle response, that you’re using your quirk?” Izuku asked curiously. “Or are you doing it to intimidate me?”

The red glare faded and the older teacher scowled at him. He opened his mouth and then closed it, shifting his weight uncomfortably. Izuku cocked his head in question.

Aizawa glared even harder, huffing out a breath and then turned away from Izuku, stomping away to his own desk.

Izuku held in a snicker. In all honesty, he didn’t really care that Eraserhead was using his quirk on him - of all the quirks that could be used against him, Erasure was one that wouldn’t actually harm him. He was still curious though - if he was trying to intimidate him, that said something about his personality, if it was a startle response, that said something about the control he had over his quirk. Could there be another reason? Of course. However, the way Izuku had purposefully framed the question as a binary choice made it harder for Eraserhead to come up with another reason for his quirk usage on the spot, lessening the chance that Izuku would hear a fib in the case that Aizawa had managed to say it was neither of the options given. But considering that the man had all but sputtered before stomping off, either there wasn't a conscious reason or choice behind the decision, or it was one of the reasons Izuku had given. 

He pulled the towel off of his neck, folded it neatly so it made a thicker pad, and after removing his items from the bag, let it sit on top of the towel to dry. He wiped off the outside of his water bottle; thankfully it was just rain that had dampened it, not leakage, and shook the water off of his nicer notebook. He had already had breakfast this morning and had decided to try Lunch Rush’s famous cuisine, so he didn’t need to worry about his bento being ruined. He had honestly forgot that the cooking hero provided meals for all the staff and students free of charge (though if anyone wanted something other than the basic set meal of rice, fish, and two sides, it cost them a little extra). He had been so eager on his first day, and after that he had eaten at home or made up a bento when he packed away leftovers after dinner.

Izuku was excited to try it; apparently even something plain and basic like rice was incredibly tasty after Lunch Rush had had his way with it. He hummed quietly to himself as he finished up preparing his desk for the day, moving the towel and bag combo to the ground beneath the desk so it wasn’t in his way, sorting out his pencils and bag and notes.

Today was about balance. He wanted to be able to really make it clear about his points, and he didn't want to just give a speech like yesterday. Kids learned better by doing, not just by being lectured at. Games were always excellent, being able to catch and hold the attention of even the most scatterbrained or distracted people. Activities that made them think their way through to the conclusion were nearly as good, though one had to be careful not to make things too difficult or too easy. Discussion amongst themselves was also a positive way to get the students to communicate with their peers and form their own thoughts and opinions with people of their own age but vastly different experiences. He hadn't had time to come up with a game, and he didn't want his kids to be working through information that they weren't positive about on their own.

Discussion it was. He'd divide them between between combat, rescue, and underground heroes. He knew that most were most likely to go for the first two classifications, but he wouldn’t be surprised if a few of them - Hagakure, Kuroiro, maybe Tokoyami, Yanagi, Monoma, maybe Jirou or Kouda - were thinking of underground work as a potential. He nibbled on his lip, and made a note about the Sports Festival - it wasn’t for a little while, maybe a month or so away, but that type of hype for students that worked better when they were unknown was at best inconvenient, and at worst, actively dangerous. He understood why it was done; it brought awareness to the limelight heroes, it showcased new support equipment from the support classes, it gave general, management, and support students the chance to get into the hero course only a month or two late if they did well enough against people as opposed to robots. 

All Might hadn’t seen it as a problem - and why would he, with his perfect, showy quirk - but Nedzu and Izuku had both talked about it, once long into the night. UA wasn’t as free to do as Nedzu would often like, beholden to the Hero Public Safety Commission (though Izuku knew that Nedzu actually delighted in finding loopholes to do what he wanted anyway) as the school and heroes were. The HPSC were the ones that gave parameters on the test. In the practical entrance exam, Nedzu had had to sneak in the advent of rescue points as opposed to just combat points, which the Hero Commision preferred, which was one of the reasons they were kept ‘secret,’ and not known except by word of mouth. But getting in heroes that had mental or non-physical but still incredibly useful quirks? The Sports Festival Loophole was one that Nedzu had set into place more than two decades ago, when he wasn’t even principal, but still a teacher. So far, only five had made it in that way, notably Eraserhead. But it was five that could not have become heroes through most highschools, five more excellent, amazing heroes that kept the streets safe. 

Nedzu himself had a mental quirk that allowed him to see possibilities and predict the future. It wasn’t perfect - no quirk was - but he made it work for him. Had he been forced into passing into the hero course in a similar manner, he probably would have been able to deduce a way to pass, but it would have been unnecessarily difficult. He wanted that insistence on flashy, physical, combat oriented quirks to be dampened by the understanding that everyone had the chance to be a hero. When Izuku had first heard that, he had cried, unable to stop his tears. 

He wondered, for the hundredth time if this was the correct path. That if the world had been just a little different, he could have been a hero. If he still could be.

Eraserhead left shortly after, though to do what, Izuku didn’t know. He reviewed the files he had on his students, and mocked up one on Aizawa as well. While some might think it’s rude to write up files and dossiers of their colleagues, Izuku had never thought of it that way. Plus, the files he wrote up were perfectly safe. The only ones who could read his code were him and Nedzu, and anyone else wouldn’t be able to identify what it even was unless Izuku bothered to include a picture in it. Wouldn’t help them much even if he did include a picture, to be honest.

He nibbled on his lip and wrote more information down idly. He was simultaneously confident and anxious about the day. It hadn’t even been a full week since he had started to teach, and he knew he’d grow more comfortable with it as time went on. He knew he was capable. Anyone Nedzu declared to be ready was more than competent at whatever they were to do. The principal didn’t make mistakes, not for this, not for his school.

He’d just finished coding the last little bit about how Aizawa kept using his quirk on him, and had started sketching idly without really thinking about it, letting the pencil do what it willed with minimal guidance from his brain when he heard the bell chime softly for lunch. He blinked back into awareness and looked at what he had drawn. He laughed. Somehow, his brain had taken the idea of Eraserhead and the idea of Nedzu and combined it into a strangely adorable blend of the two of them. A tired Nedzu, standing six-foot tall, with stubble and the scar across his eye, with a tail fit for his height, he was dressed in Eraserhead’s costume but his own very bright shoes, the signature goggles on his forehead, and he was wielding the capture weapon like a lasso. Izuku covered his mouth as snickers burst forth. He snapped a picture of it for posterity, then left it prominently out on his own desk. He was tempted to lay it out on Eraserhead's desk instead, but as he had no clue when the older man was to come back, he wasn't sure if the drawing would get destroyed before everyone else got a good look at it. Of course, it could get destroyed regardless, but he thought the drawing being at his own desk lessened that chance a bit. If it survived until after class time, Izuku planned on giving it to Nedzu, who he was sure would take it in the spirit that it was meant. Maybe he’d even display it? 

Izuku grinned to himself, shaking his head, then with his stomach grumbling, packed up his things and went to find the cafeteria.

It was crowded, and it made him pause for a moment at the entrance. He hadn’t been here before, and it caused his anxiety to spike up before he forced a breath into his lungs and walked into the room like he was supposed to be there.

Which he was, he reminded himself. He was supposed to be here. It was lunch time, he was a teacher of the school, and he was hungry. He stopped at the ticket vending machine, slid in his teacher’s identification card, and picked the basic meal set. After a moment, it printed out his ticket, and beeped at him to remind him to retrieve his ID. He slid it back into his pocket, and went in line to actually place his order.

When it was his turn, he smiled at Lunch Rush. “Having a good day?” he inquired politely as he slid his ticket across the counter to the hero. 

“I am,” the chef responded back, and gave off the impression of smiling back at him, though Izuku couldn’t see his face (or if he had one). The man looked down at the ticket and back up. “Ah, Midoriya-sensei, isn’t it? You’re the new teacher that Principal Nedzu hired this year.”

Izuku grinned. “That’s me!” Lunch Rush quickly whipped up the basic set for him, and gave the tray to him. “Next time you come in, get whatever you like, on the house,” Lunch Rush told him, and Midoriya thanked him before moving away from the counter so the next person could get their food. When he turned, he noticed it was Midnight, or Nemuri Kayama. He almost didn’t recognize her with her dressed in business casual and her hair back in a ponytail instead of her hero costume. He paused for a moment when she looked at him, and watched as she winked, and held up a finger to indicate for him to wait. 

He lingered while she shared a few pleasantries with Lunch Rush, and picked up her tray. She turned to Izuku and gave him a bright smile. 

“You’re the new teacher, aren’t you? I’ve heard my students discuss you already; pretty impressive!”

He smiled sheepishly. “Ah, thank you. All good things, I hope.”

“Oh, mostly,” she said teasingly and beckoned him onward. “Here, I’ll show you where the teachers usually sit. It’s in the same room, but we’ve got a bit of an alcove so that we can keep an eye on the students but we’re not in their direct line of fire.”

He followed after her easily. She didn’t seem to be the type to lead him astray, or to be cruel for the sake of it. In fact, as she talked to him comfortably, he thought that she could be an excellent friend to have on your side. 

She showed him the wall that was painted in such a way that it matched the wall further back, and they disappeared around it. Izuku discovered that part of the wall wasn’t a wall either, but a one-way mirror.

“So that’s how you keep an eye on them,” Izuku murmured, and Nemuri laughed. “Yep,” she told him, and plopped herself down in a comfortable looking seat, patting the back of the seat beside her to indicate he should sit. He did, and looked around. Some of the teachers there he already recognized - Present Mic for one, but Cementoss and Vlad King were also sitting there. Mic waved and exclaimed out a loud “heyyyyyy!” that Nemuri playfully glared at him for. He slid down the bench he was on so he was closer to the two of them. Cementoss and Vlad King, after exchanging glances, came over closer too.

“So,” Nemuri started. “I know you’re the new teacher, but I don’t know your name. I’m Nemuri Kayama, Midnight,” she tilted her head over to Vlad King, “Kan Seikijirou, Vlad King,” to Cementoss, “Ishiyama Ken, Cementoss, and I’m pretty sure you’d have to be deaf and blind to not know who this cockatoo is.”

Present Mic just laughed. “Yamada Hizashi, hero name Present Mic,” though we’ve already met. Midoriya, right?”

Izuku nodded. “I’m Midoriya Izuku. Haven’t been given the opportunity for a hero name,” he added a little cheekily, as the adults laughed. 

He dug into his food, and everyone was right. It was so freaking good . The heroes around him watched his eyes widen and him stuff more food in his mouth. “First time having Lunch Rush’s food, huh?” Present Mic asked. “You can always tell. You’ll never be the same.” He shook his head in mock sadness.

“It’s worth it,” Izuku managed to say between mouthfuls. “I don’t think I’ve ever tasted anything this good before.”

The others started to eat too, talking companionably in between bites. Izuku listened in, absorbing what he could about the heroes. He itched to pull out his notebook, but the food proved to be a stronger call than even new information. Once he was finished eating, only complimentary green tea left for him to sip, Izuku pulled out his scrap notebook, and started to sketch - information might be a bit sketchy - heh - to be copying down at the time, but drawing was usually considered a benign talent, wasn’t it?

“Oh, what do you have there?” Slim painted fingers came to touch the paper gently. “A sketch?” Obligingly, Izuku pivoted the sketchbook so Midnight could see easier. “Oh!”

It was a sketch of her, sitting and smiling, looking away from the viewer as she had been when Izuku was sketching her. 

“That’s lovely, Midoriya.”

“Thanks!” he responded, sipping at his tea. “I’m a bit of a hero-nerd, always was really, and I liked to add sketches to the facts I found out. Became a bit of an extra hobby.”

“Oh a hero nerd, huh?” Present Mic gave him a toothy grin. “Not a bad hobby to get into. Learn anything about yours truly?”

Izuku leveled a look at him. “Do you want the short version or the long version?” Present Mic quirked his eyebrow at him. Cementoss let out a rumbling laugh that sounded similar to gravel rolling down a hill. “It’s only another fifteen until lunch is over, Midoriya-sensei. Maybe start with the short version.”

“Good point.” He cleared his throat and took a breath. “Your name is Yamada Hizashi, born 2xxx, to parents Yamada Setsu and Yamada Ayumi née Fujiwara. Your quirk is Voice, apparently a throwback from your grandfather on your father’s side. Unlike most, your quirk developed early, I believe you were around 18 months of age when it did. Fortunately you were old enough at that age to understand about volume control even if it was difficult for you; both of your parents suffered hearing damage although it was much less than it could have been. You did as well; your headphones act as selective hearing aids, filtering the noise when sounds reach a certain decibel. 

Your quirk is always ‘on’ with you having to consciously deactivate it; much like how we must consciously hold our breath rather than breathe normally. The quirks of your parents are Melody on your father’s side - he always knows what song is playing or being sung and will know the lyrics if it has any; your mother has the quirk Safe Step - she never trips and her feet and ankles are very strong, preventing broken bones, strains, and sprains. She’s never twisted or hurt an ankle.”

Izuku smiled at the flabbergasted expression on Present Mic’s face. 

“How was that?”

“Alright everyone. Today’s class is about balance .” Ashido cheered and Shouji looked wary.

Izuku let out a little laugh. “Not the kind of balance you’re probably thinking of,” he told them, grinning inwardly at Ashido’s exaggerated pout. “Rather, the balance that heroes must exist within. You’re probably already aiming for a specific specialization in heroics,” he continued. “That’s all well and good, but if you’re anything like me, you’ll focus on that to the detriment of everything else. So you might not know too much about the other types of specialization. Most of you will be familiar with combat oriented heroes; they’re the ones that are called out to fight villains and criminals. All Might is one. Those of you that actively want to go into that field move to that side,” he pointed to his left, near the doors. “You’re probably nearly as familiar with rescue heroes, those who help in the aftermath of fights and battles, and attend natural disasters. Thirteen is a well known rescue hero. If you want to become a rescue hero, go to the other side,” he indicated the windows as he spoke. “And last,” he continued, smiling a bit as a few turned confused looks towards him, “we have underground heroes. They tend to work at night, or in disguise, looking like regular civilians. They specialize in undercover, stealth, and covert operations. Often, they have quirks that aren’t as combat oriented and work almost like ambush predators, taking someone out from behind or unawares.” He didn’t offer an example of an underground hero. Eraserhead himself was one, and if they hadn’t picked up on the man being an underground hero rather than a combat or rescue one, then they would after today. “Those of you who think you might be most interested in that field can go to the back of the classroom.”

He took a sip of water, and the students took it as their permission to move around. A couple whispered back and forth. Uraraka immediately moved to the right side of the room, while Bakugou beelined for the combat side. No surprises there. Asui joined Uraraka, but the first person to go to the back of the room was Hagakure. He could see her fidgeting, only the twitching fabric giving away any signs of her anxiety. Tokoyami was the second, though he was near the left side of the room. The others made their decisions and streamed to the left, and right. 

When he thought that there would be no more moving around, Izuku cleared his throat again. “Alright, that’s awesome. Now, your task is to find someone not on your side and explain to each other the importance of what kind of hero you’re aiming to be - and what skills you should know.” He paused, then said, “go ahead, five minutes each, then pick someone else.” to get the class moving. They moved.

Like the days before, he kept his ears open, his eyes wandering around the class. Hagakure was talking animatedly with Asui, and he heard something about he invisible girl being “glad that Midoriya-sensei mentioned the underground; I wouldn’t be a very good rescue hero with no one able to see me, and my combat skills aren’t all that wonderful. My old quirk counselor said I should be able to manipulate my quirk more, but I haven’t had any luck…” Asui answered in understanding tones.

Bakugou was fiercely excited and aggressive, talking to Uraraka who met him with equal fervor. Izuku’s eyebrows rose. Now that wasn’t a pairing he had expected… Interesting. Tokoyami had also found a rescue hero to talk with; Kouda, who was whispering quietly when Tokoyami didn’t understand the signs. Dark Shadow had his head poking out of Tokoyami’s chest, close to Kouda and was also listening closely. Since most of the class at this point were having conversations - and mainly about what they should be talking about - Izuku elected to let them continue past the five minute mark, and called their attention ten minutes in. 

“Switch partners now,” he called out. They startled a bit but most of them quickly found someone else to talk with. Uraraka and Bakugou seemed a little loath to part, their faces expressing competitive excitement, and they kept shooting barbs at each other as they went to find and talk to new people. Izuku decided to let it go. Bakugou seemed happy about it rather than rage filled even if he was still aggressive, and Uraraka was more than holding her own. Izuku looked over the pairs. Some had formed themselves into groups of three, and mentally applauding them for putting themselves in groups when the situation called for it, Izuku kept his ears open. 

“I think rescue heroes are the most popular with kids, kero ” Asui was saying, finger on her chin. “They’re generally friendly and with brighter colours to make themselves more visible. And I like kids; I want to be able to help them.”

“You’re a strong combatant too, Asui-san,” Shouji told her with one of his tentacle mouths. “Whether you decide to be rescue, or underground, or a combatant-oriented hero, you’ll go far no matter which one you decide on.” 

“I had always hoped to be more of a well-rounded hero,” Asui said, a pleased look to her normally stoic features.

Bakugou was now talking to Hagakure, who was explaining to him about the importance of stealth and not just blasting through walls, especially when you couldn’t, and he was… mostly paying attention, Izuku thought. 

Kaminari, Todoroki, and Jirou were talking about the importance of saving your quirk - mostly for Kaminari’s benefit, Izuku thought considering that about half of Jirou’s quirk was a passive ability, and Todoroki, if his quirk worked like he thought, could use the two ‘halves’ of himself to balance out the temperature extremes to keep him in thermodynamic equilibrium. Kaminari, on the other hand, from what Nedzu had shown him, seemed to mainly use his ability as a one-and-done move, unfortunately rendering him ‘short-circuited’ for at least an hour. Nedzu had idly mentioned about lowering the ‘off’ time, but Izuku thought it would be better to prevent Kaminari from overloading his brain at all. He cursed quirk counselors who only exacerbated issues like this, and didn’t think about the consequences. The number of times Izuku had overheard people talking about ‘well it doesn’t feel good,’ or ‘I don’t like doing it, but the counselor said it was part of my quirk, and I should embrace it,’ did not bode well. Quirks were not well understood things; some quirks were incredibly detrimental to the user to the point that they didn’t want to use it, or wished they didn’t have it. What was the point of having a quirk that made everything you ate taste like poison? What about a quirk that made you trip every time you walked up an uneven amount of stairs? Quirks, in Izuku’s opinion were like any other part of humanity’s evolution - a bug in the code that refused to be patched, and became part of the DNA to the point that not having one would become a throwback and an oddity.

He’d become lost in thought for a bit too long, but only by a minute, so Izuku just shook his head to clear it.

“Alright, and that’s the end of the discussion portion for now. Please return to your seats and I’ll explain to you what I mean by balance.”

There was some shuffling around and scraping of chairs before they all (or most of them, Kaminari was playing with Ojiro’s tail for some reason, but the other blonde must have been used to it because he just rolled his eyes and let him), sat up and paid attention. 

Izuku hopped up on his desk and sat cross legged as he’d become accustomed to. Then he pulled out his sheaf of notes and began.

“How many of you are familiar with the Wild Wild Pussycats?” Izuku asked. Most of the class, including Kendo raised their hands. Tsunotori looked mildly unsure, but wiggled a bit in her seat at the name, so Izuku guessed that she was familiar with the group too. 

“For those of you who don’t know, the Wild Wild Pussycats are a rescue hero group that works almost solely as a group; rarely breaking up into pairs or solo. I can count on one hand the number of times they’ve worked solo since their debut. Their members are: Mandalay with a one-way telepathy quirk, Ragdoll with the quirk Search, Pixiebob who has an earth manipulation quirk, and Tiger who has a quirk that lets him stretch his body and move in ways most people can’t.”

“Though they are a rescue group, and they mainly work in mountainous areas where Pixiebob’s quirk is the most useful, they are well known for being strong combatants - and not just the two that have traditional combatant quirks. They work almost flawlessly as a team, covering each other where they’re weak, and knowing how to work with and around each other’s quirks, fighting styles, and personalities. They excel at what they do. Like I said, they’re a rescue group, and like Thirteen, prefer to work with natural disasters and cleanup after battles or villains with particularly devastating quirks, but they have never shied away from battle when it’s become necessary, and they excel in that field too.”

He shifted on the desk and took another sip of water. Talking for so long really dried out his throat, and this was his second run through.

“Now, which of you have heard about the hero Lukane?” There were a couple of people that seemed to recognize the name, but most didn’t, shaking their heads or furrowing their brows in thought.

“That’s alright, she was a lesser-known hero even in her heyday; most people that recognize her name now is because of the mild scandal she’s known for.” Another few people seemed to nod, realizing where they heard the name. Monoma rolled his eyes and Shishida grumbled an ‘ah’ of comprehension. 

“Lukane, is named, I believe, as a portmanteau of luck and the ‘kane’ of money. Her quirk had nothing to do with luck or money, but she could conjure a rainfall if the ground surrounding her was appropriately dry. She didn’t really fall into any of the traditional hero specializations of combat, rescue, or underground, but was something of a popularity, or say, a usefulness hero. She mainly worked in rural areas, and I believed her popularity mainly came from farmers and others whose crops she would water.”

His face twisted up a bit in displeasure. “In all of her years as a hero, she only ever once saw combat; again, a rural place does not generally lend itself to many villain attacks - most are in the city, or at least in suburban areas. When a villain did finally appear - an earth quirked one that tore vitality from the plants around him, she ran away.” Muttering rose up, and he spoke over it. “The villain gave chase, though I’m not sure why - the villain was never asked before he was incarcerated - and she got injured, quite badly, before another hero showed up. She quit after that, though whether it was because she was injured in a way that prevented her return, whether she did not feel cut out for the work, or because of the disapproval of the public, we can only guess.”

Honenuki put up his hand. At Izuku’s nod, he asked “why do you think it is?”

Izuku thought about it for a minute, hand habitually covering his mouth, lips moving silently. “Of course I can’t be sure,” he started slowly, “but from what I know about Lukane, her injuries were not ones that couldn’t be recovered from, even if she was unable to be healed by a quirk rather than naturally. I believe that it was a combination of fear of combat and public disapproval - remember that she was mainly a popularity hero. She would be unable to find work, and as i think she subsided mostly off of donations, she wouldn’t be able to afford to not be popular."

“Glass Cannon is another of our ‘unbalanced’ heroes.” The noises of recognition, much louder than the ones Lukane had prompted, made him grin. “I see you’ve heard of him,” he said dryly and made a couple of the students snicker. “ His quirk was to be able to shoot nuggets of glass at very high speed. He could form them from larger pieces of glass, and liked to work in urban environments. Luckily, he was able to reform panes if the glass he used came from outside his own personal source.  Depending on the size - which I believe ranged from the size of a few grains of sand to a bit smaller than a golf ball, he could manipulate them at different speeds - the smaller the faster - and that made him fairly dangerous to the villains he fought. He used rounder, larger pieces to take villains down, by method of contusion, and smaller, sharper, and faster pieces to take villains out .” Tsuburaba grinned. Seemed someone was a little bloodthirsty. 

“Anyway, he was a fairly skilled combatant, but a few years ago, he took down a major villain that was causing a lot of havoc in combination with some other heroes that were at the scene. Unlike these other heroes though, who immediately started evacuation procedures with a couple of rescue heroes that arrived there a few minutes after the battle, Glass Cannon just stood there awkwardly while people were trapped under rubble, and others were hurt.” 

Izuku shook his head. “He didn’t get his hero license revoked, but he was subjected to several months of remedial education where he learned more about evacuation procedures and the importance of making quick and safe evacuations where civilians are involved. As a hero that caused a large amount of destruction himself - he had pulled a lot of glass from some nearby skyscrapers - he also didn’t attempt any cleanup, which he was capable of, at least with putting back the glass he had borrowed, but he did not.”

He let out a sigh. “Thankfully, I do have more examples of better balanced heroes than just the Wild Wild Pussycats. You may even know this one as he, and his agency is very well known. Ingenium and Idaten.”

The response was less… enthusiastic than class 1-A had been, but still warm. Izuku smiled at the memory of Iida sitting up even taller and straighter, stiff-backed with pride and a trembling to his mouth. Izuku had half expected him to start crying tears of joy, or at least banging on the table in sheer emotion. He hadn’t, that Izuku had seen, but he did start waxing with great joy about his brother and his agency, and how he would join his brother there as an intern when he graduated to literally anyone that listened, including two students who Izuku though had been part of the Management course as well as a General Studies student passing in the hallway.

“Now, the reason why Ingenium and his agency are so well liked is partly due to tradition and longevity. Idaten wasn’t started by Ingenium, but by his grandfather, and then succeeded by his aunt. The Iida family is known for their Engine related quirks, but they’re also known for being heroes. That creates an impression on people. You’re more likely to trust, recognize, and feel connected with heroes and agencies that have been around for a long time. Moreover, they have all been, as far as anyone can tell, good heroes.”

Izuku covered a jaw-cracking yawn. “They have never been heroes that have only specialized in rescue or combat, nor do they avoid the shadows and alleys that limelight heroes tend to keep away from. In essence, they are balanced. In all of the reports I’ve seen, and all of the research that I’ve done on this agency, Idaten stands apart. They do not discriminate against quirks or the quirkless, they help people with any issues that a hero can, and I’ve personally seen Ingenium go out of his way to help in ways many heroes would not. He excels in combat, and he’s very quick, which makes him ideal for rescue and evacuation scenarios.”

He shifted on the desk, his butt getting a bit numb. “He’s also liked , and that isn’t always easy to come by as a hero. Popularity is definitely something that you want to cultivate, but popularity isn’t always the same thing as being liked.” He hesitated. He hadn’t said this to Class 1-A, but it was a good example. “Take Endeavor for instance. He’s the number two hero, and a large part of the rankings is a popularity contest, but if you ask a selection of people on the street, you’ll see how many people will openly complain about him. Even those that think he’s a good hero or powerful and skilled will often feel the need to qualify their statement with a ‘but’ or an ‘except,’ like ‘Endeavor is incredibly powerful, but I feel he needs to be more careful with structural damage,’ or ‘He’s cool, but he’s not very kind to children.’ Unlike Endeavor, you rarely hear qualifiers when people speak about Ingenium or Idaten.”

Izuku paused and tilted his head, thinking. “I wouldn’t necessarily say that being kind is more important than being skillful, but I would say kindness is more important than popularity. You may not need kindness to be a hero, but you do need to have some measure of kindness and humanity in order to be a good hero.”

“Our understanding of the word ‘hero’ has changed over time. In the pre-quirk era, the only superheroes - what they’d likely call us, to be honest, - were in comic books and movies. But they still had heroes. They were people, ordinary, quirkless people, who went out of their way to do good. They were noble, courageous, and did things to the pinnacle of their capability. Someone that rescued a child or a dog from a house fire, a police officer that dove in front of a bullet, they would be called heroes because they did something not everyone could do.

“However, we now view heroes as a job, not as a quality of their heroism, but language is a funny thing. They could have called the profession of ‘hero’ pretty much anything. Villain Decker, Evil Sweeper-Upper, a Cleanser of Chaos - but they didn’t. They called it being a hero, which gives it the connotations of heroism. 

“Have you ever thought to yourself that a hero wasn’t acting like a hero even though he was doing his job? That’s because we still think of the word ‘hero’ as being someone who has shown a nobility of spirit, or achieved great things - someone who is kind and just. A hero does good acts to be good, not for pay or notoriety. And not all heroes in our era are like that.

"But to be a true hero, you need to not only do your job well, but to live up to the pre-quirk definition of the term.”

Izuku sighed. Damn, he was tired. But unlike other days, it wasn’t over yet. He had a meeting with Nedzu, you know, the one he’s only been stressing about all week . He stretched and tidied up the classroom - a little bit of a mess around Kaibara’s desk, some dust that, when Izuku looked, must have come from him idly spinning his fingers or wrist on the desktop. Kamikiri had left some sliced up paper, and Izuku raised his eyebrows. That explained why the papers he had seen sometimes had edges or sides sliced a bit oddly. He guessed he couldn’t blame the kid - his quirk was Blades, after all. He pushed in a few chairs, then closed the door behind him, and left. He had to stop by the group office to pick up a few things.

Once there, he checked that the towel and his bag were finally dry (they were), and then unlocked the filing cabinet, and pulled out the two sheets of improvements  - one for him, one for Nedzu. The drawing was right where had left it, and he sandwiched it between the improvement lists. He looked around, and seeing that he had gathered everything, slipped his bag over his shoulder and went to Nedzu’s office. Time to face the rat.

He knocked on the door, it for once not swinging forward before he touched it. He looked at it, confused - was Nedzu alright? Was he playing a trick on him - when the far too cheerful voice of the principal called out “Come in, Midoriya-kun!”

He unlatched the door and pushed it open, closed it behind him, and then looked around the room. He froze, his heart dropping like a stone.

More fool him. He had thought that when Nedzu had told him about the Friday meeting to see how he was getting on and talk about preliminary improvements and changes, it would be like all of their other meetings. He couldn’t be more wrong.

Chapter Text

He knew he was shaking in fear and anxiety. He couldn’t help himself. All those eyes…

Everyone was looking at him. Most, he realized, looked curious. Midnight waved hello. Present Mic grinned, and Aizawa glared at him like he had just murdered his cat. Honestly, he didn’t know what he had expected.

It wasn’t just teachers there either. No. There was Lunch Rush and Recovery Girl, Thirteen and Hound Dog. Another hero, judging by the costume anyway, that he didn’t recognize - a blonde man in a white coat with a purple visor. Vlad King and Power Loader. Ectoplasm, Snipe. A man with orchid coloured hair, with his face covered in a zippered black mask. Cementoss and All Might. Midnight, and a third person he didn’t know, a slim woman with blank, white eyes. Was she blind? She had turned her head to look directly at him, but that didn’t necessarily mean anything.

He stole a breath through lungs that still felt stiff and unmoving, and then another. He shuffled the paper he had in his hands and looked directly at the principal, who was looking at him with glittering eyes. 

Traitor, Izuku thought to himself. Nedzu knew what he was like. Whether this was another test, or just out of Nedzu’s desire to sow chaos, Izuku didn’t know, but he decided to treat it like a test. So he straightened up, let a faint smile slide into place, and nodded to the assembled heroes. Then he strode up to Nedzu’s desk, and placed the sheets of paper on the surface. He smiled at Nedzu, tilting his head in a manner he knew made him look sweet and innocent.

“My apologies,” he said, to Nedzu, but clearly enough that the others in the room would be able to hear him. “I wasn’t under the impression that I would need more than one copy of this.” He slipped the top sheet off for himself - he wouldn’t trust himself to recite his own name and age in front of this many people without notes - leaving the drawing of the Nedzu-Aizawa hybrid clear for Nedzu to see. Izuku knew that the way the principal’s ears twitched was the same as a startled laugh in a human and was satisfied. Not exactly the way he had wanted to give it to Nedzu, but it would have to work for now. And the spark of interest and delight in Nedzu’s eyes had reminded him that he was here because Nedzu wanted him to be . He had the right, and even if every single one of those teachers didn’t like him, he would still belong. 

He smiled at the principal with a little more liveliness in his smile, the anxiety still shivering in his bones, but suppressed enough for now (though he knew he’d pay for it later).

“How would you like me to present?”

Nedzu hopped up onto the desk and climbed up Izuku’s arm. Well used to this treatment by now, though he often preferred Yagi when in his company - heights amirite? - and settled on his shoulder. “We’ll go to the meeting room,” Nedzu exclaimed and pointed out with a paw. “Onwards!”

“Am I your noble steed then,” Izuku murmured to the principal, bearing his weight easily as they left the room. 

“Hmmm, I’m not sure, we’ll have to check your pedigree,” the principal teased back.

“I beg your pardon,” Izuku said, mock affronted. “I have the finest pedigree. My great grandmother was a head of broccoli, and my grandfather was an asparagus spear.”

He wasn’t positive, but he was pretty sure he heard Hound Dog let out a huffed growl of laughter. A few metres more, and they were at the meeting room, held conveniently close to Nedzu’s office.

“My mistake,” Nedzu said and stood, leaping off his shoulder to the table, standing there, waiting for the rest of the heroes to file in. When Aizawa sat down, Nedzu graciously chose him as his newest pedestal, and gestured Izuku to the head of the table. A few feet back from it, there was a podium. Izuku went up to it, laid his notes on it, and looked up.

He gazed over the assembled heroes. Izuku didn’t think he’d ever felt so scared or so worried about a presentation, not even in middle school when he’d fail if his work was poor, be punished if his work was good.

He drove those thoughts from his mind and cleared his throat. Took a breath. Smiled at them.

“Hello. I’m Midoriya Izuku, and I’m the new Quirk, Hero, and Villain Analysis teacher as of Monday.”

He was not expecting the response he got.

Aizawa, Midnight, and Present Mic sat smugly while the rest of them showed some expression of shock. Vlad King even seemed angry. His face started to redden, and hints of blood were showing on his lower fangs. It was fascinating, part of Izuku thought, while the rest of him wanted to cringe and run away. The blonde laughed in an incredulous way, Thirteen said “but he’s only a child,” in such a confused tone it almost made him laugh. Snipe actually tilted up his hat. The others were talking excitedly to each other, shooting Izuku looks now and then. In other words, it was a level of chaos that Izuku hadn’t experienced so far, not with so many people. He half felt like joining in on the chaos - the way Nedzu’s eyes glinted made him think the principal felt the same - while the other half just wanted to get this over with.

He decided to pull a Nedzu and clambered on top of the podium. Unlike some lecterns that had a steep angle from which to read a book or lecture a class, this one was flat, likely so Nedzu could do what Izuku had just done. He sat criss-cross and waited for them to quiet down. But he also couldn’t let such an absolutely great opportunity go to waste. He reached behind him and pulled out a pen and a scrap notebook, and set to taking notes on the interactions between the heroes. Aizawa and Vlad King especially seemed to be snippy with each other, Hound Dog seemed to take Vlad’s side, and Present Mic took Aizawa’s. Thirteen and Recovery Girl were both chattering together about his apparent (real) youth, and giving Izuku concerned glances when they thought he wasn’t looking. 

Cementoss was… stone faced, showing little emotion, but he certainly didn’t seem overjoyed, or even all that happy. At most, Izuku thought that he looked like he was waiting to see what was up. Ectoplasm had his head cocked, watching Izuku with a piercing gaze that was only made all the more unnerving by his teeth and mask. Actually… were those his teeth? Was it a part of his mask? What about the peg legs that Izuku knew about from his research and from the glimpse he had seen when Ectoplasm had started to stride forward. Shouldn’t he have better support equipment than thin rounds of wood?

Nedzu was practically rubbing his hands together with glee. He liked making his teachers think and discuss and second guess themselves. It was a game to him. Most things were though, Izuku had to admit. 

After another five minutes of this nonsense had passed though, Izuku got bored and cleared his throat. There were one or two that looked up, while the rest ignored him.

So he clapped his hands, sharply. That made them startle and glance over. He favoured them all with his most unimpressed look. 

“As I was saying,” he said, his voice dry. “I’m Midoriya Izuku, the new Analysis teacher. Principal Nedzu has asked me, as part of my duties here, to find, and address the problems of UA.” He showed a razor sharp smile as some of the teachers stiffened. The stiffening could be because they felt affronted, or it could be that they had something to hide. Aizawa, Power Loader Cementoss (though it was hard to tell if it was just his own natural body language), Vlad King and Recovery Girl. He would remember those names. 

“I have a proposal of some issues, and some things I need for my own classes, as well as a couple of requests. It’s quite fortuitous that you’re here, Aizawa-sensei, Kan-sensei. It involves both of your classes specifically.” Both of them stiffened more, if possible, and then glared at each other. He looked over at Nedzu who gave him a discreet thumbs up. He relaxed a touch.

He slipped a hand behind him and retrieved the paper with his proposal. 

“First, I’ll address the ones that involve other classes, specifically Aizawa-sensei’s and Kan-sensei’s classes, though others may be involved in the future.” He took a deep breath, and began.

“I’d like to be able to shadow the heroics students during their foundational heroics or physical education classes, so I am able to view their quirks in use, and how they’re using them. I’ll be able to get a better grasp of what they can analyze and use in relation to their own quirks.” He nodded to Snipe and All Might as well.

“That shouldn’t be a problem,” Nedzu piped up. Both of the homeroom teachers looked at him, Aizawa having to lean away to get a good look at the principal’s face. 

“He teaches one of our classes analysis while we have foundational heroics,” Vlad King protested. “How would that work?”

“Simple,” Izuku said. “Have a double block of heroics, and do it together. I’m learning about them at the same time as they are, and I’ll be there as an extra teacher to provide advice and other help.”

“Can’t be any worse than Yagi here,” Snipe rumbled out and nudged the skinny man gently. He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. 

“It’ll also allow the hero course students to get to know each other and work together; so far, they’ve barely seen each other, right?” Izuku asked. Aizawa nodded, though it looked forced. Maybe Nedzu had physically manipulated his head?

“I need to see them in action,” Izuku continued, “which leads me to my next point. Principal, what are the regulations about booking a gym, preferably on a scheduled basis?”

“Why, permission from me, of course!” Nedzu told him cheerily. “I suppose you’ll want one big enough to support your whole class?”

“Preferably, though I wouldn’t say no to one that can be used for one-on-one training, should any of my students request or require it,” Izuku said back in the same tone. “Another thing that will require your permission is a private, or at least a semi-private office. Though the open space where I’ve been working is all well and good, I understand that I’m to be something of a quirk counselor to the students, especially the hero course. I wouldn’t like discussing my quirk and its issues in a public space, surrounded by my teachers.”

Nedzu hummed, his tail twitching back and forth like an interested cat’s. “I’m sure it can be arranged,” he began, “though I’ll have to find and outfit a suitable space. I do like a challenge!” Izuku wanted to roll his eyes, but he refrained. No need to be outright disrespectful in front of everyone else. Nedzu did like his challenges, and Izuku could only imagine how crazy he could go with a private office space. But… he’d leave him to it. 

At this point, the rest of the teachers were ranged in how they looked, from mildly interested/neutral (Cementoss) to stunned (The orchid-haired man and Recovery Girl.) He grinned at them again, eyes roving over their expressions and continued on. He couldn’t deny that he was enjoying this. The vibe he had gotten from them all standing there waiting (whether orchestrated by Nedzu or not) was one of them wanting to make an impression of might and power. Izuku wasn’t mighty, wasn’t powerful. He was just a kid still, albeit one that Nedzu and All Might were supporting. He didn’t need to be ‘mighty,’ but he also didn’t like it shoved in his face. It slapped of condescension, and he’d had enough of that to last a lifetime, thanks. 

“In relation to the office, I want it known that I am available to all students to talk about their quirks or analysis, not just the hero students.” Vlad King scoffed, and Izuku looked at him with narrowed eyes. Did he think that all of the non-hero students were lesser in some ways? He’d have to watch out for that. “My office hours should be regularly scheduled, and some way to make both appointments and drop-ins work. All of the students here have quirks, or so I assume,” Izuku said, gaze on Nedzu, who tilted his head in a ‘you’re not wrong manner,’ so Izuku kept going. “Quirk counselling has, in my experience, had the habit of being far too packed and sessions starting late, ending quickly, and altogether stopping prematurely. In addition, are there not students that attempt to join the hero class via the Sports Festival?” He affected a look of thought. “Eraserhead, don’t you have an available space in your class?”

“Yes,” he growled, “as you well know.”

Izuku smiled sweetly. “Then it would be wrong to not offer all the same resources to management, general, or support students, wouldn’t it?”

He looked around the room. “As a matter of fact, who here knows JSL?” 

Present Mic raised his hand, Aizawa and Hound Dog did as well, but they both moved their hands back and forth to indicate that maybe theirs wasn’t so good.

“”Field signs?” Thankfully, more hands raised at that. Present Mic, Hound Dog, and Aizawa kept their hands raised, while Midnight, Snipe, Ectoplasm, and the visored blonde raised their hands.

Izuku nodded. “Aizawa-sensei, you have a selectively mute student in your class that’s fluent in JSL, and Kan-sensei, you have a student that, in general, prefers not to speak aloud. Though his quirk is very useful for that, there may be times where he cannot allow his thoughts to be read.” He looked around at them. “At the very least, the two hero classes should learn field sign, though JSL would be more convenient. Both would be ideal. And while we might not be able to force students to learn it, I whole-heartedly believe that field signs should be a part of heroics training.” He shot Aizawa, Kan, Yagi, and Snipe a look. The first two were both nodding slowly, but when they realized they were in agreement, they curled their lips and looked away from each other.

“Three more things,” Izuku said encouragingly. “First, dress code. There’s no allowances for gender-swapping of the uniform, or for those that identify as gender nonconforming, trans, non-binary, or anywhere along the gender spectrum. I personally saw several girls be put in uncomfortable positions because of their uniforms the past week. The current uniform requirement is three, correct?” he looked at Nedzu for confirmation.

“Yes, and two free replacements. Three for the hero students,” the principal told him.

“Then we should let them know that’s an option for their replacement uniforms. We should also allow them to switch/replace at least two of their uniforms. I understand the cost is an issue,” he said, raising up placating hands, “but so is the comfort of the students. People should be allowed to wear what they want to wear. I understand the point of uniforms, but dysphoria is no joke; it can be severely detrimental to force someone to wear clothing based on their sex assigned at birth when it doesn’t match who they are… especially when binary sexes is  just a bunch of bullshit anyway,” he muttered the last bit. “How seriously is the dress code taken and enforced anyway?” Izuku asked them interestedly. “There’s a few that seem to push it beyond what even I would consider to be an acceptable level.”

Nedzu raised a paw to stop the orchid-haired man from speaking. “I’ll pass on the tips for the dress code, Midoriya-kun,” he said, and Izuku simply nodded.

“Thank you. Therapy. Hound Dog, you’re the guidance counselor, right?” The dog-like man nodded. “Do you have many drop ins or regulars?”

“Not… many,” he answered slowly. “A few regulars, but only a few drop-ins every couple of months.” 

“Then we should probably take efforts to raise availability, or, no offense Hound Dog, provide information on other therapists that the students can contact.”

“None taken,” Hound Dog said easily. “A therapist is a personal decision; I can’t fit everyone as well as I should; at the first session, I let people know that there are other therapists, and to not feel bad if they don’t connect with me. If sessions go forward, and that’s how it seems, then I bring it up again, let them make the decision, show them where to find other therapists, point them in the right direction. But you’re right, we should be raising more awareness. I always get a small influx of people after an event that might be considered traumatic, but it usually trickles off not too long after.”

“And the last thing is the potential of free or discounted supplies for students - we all require a certain amount of paper and pens and inks and such for our classes, but UA is already an expensive school. I don’t want my students to have to make the choice between paper and food.”

“Do… do many have to?” All Might asked. 

“Not everyone is rich or even well off. School fees are expensive,” Izuku said flatly. “I’m aware of one student already that’s only managing to stay fed because of the free sets at lunch,” Izuku said, nodding to Lunch Rush. “There may be more.”

Nedzu nodded. “That’s a possibility, that I’ll have to consider. But I’ve been remiss of my duties.” he popped up out of Aizawa’s capture weapon and trotted down the table to leap into Izuku’s lap. “I believe I need to introduce everyone to you!”

He gestured at those still sitting on chairs. “Please stand when I introduce you so that Midoriya-kun can get a feel for your face and name!”

“Aizawa Shouta, the homeroom teacher for class 1-A. Hero name Eraserhead, quirk is Erasure, letting him negate mental and emitter quirks with a glance. It’s very convenient for more volatile members, or for those that have trouble fighting without their quirks! He also is one of my favourite seats.”

“Important information, principal, thank you,” Aizawa said with the slightest roll of his eyes, sitting back down.

“Kan Seikijirou, the homeroom teacher for class 1-B. Hero name Vlad King, quirk is Blood Control, letting him manipulate and solidify the blood that has left his body - it makes him very well suited for entrapping villains! He and Aizawa-kun have a fun little rivalry with their classes.”

Kan grimaced and sat down when Nedzu went on.

“Yamada Hizashi, the English teacher and homeroom teacher for class 1-C. Hero name Present Mic, quirk is Voice. He’s able to scream extremely loud, which can incapacitate villains, but a lesser known fact is that he’s able to adjust the tone and frequency of his own voice, which makes him very talented when voice acting!”

“Awai Hitomi, the homeroom teacher for class 1-D! Hero name Sightless, quirk is Quirk Sense. Though she’s got decreased actual vision which doesn’t respond to quirk treatment or lenses, she can tell where people are based on their quirk. If she really pays attention, she can tell how to activate or deactivate a quirk!”

Izuku started. If she could do that then she’d be able to tell that he didn’t have one. The principal patted his leg. Alright then. Either she knew and hadn’t told anyone yet, she’ll be finding out now and she wouldn’t tell anyone, or she will tell someone and Nedzu thinks it’s fine. He wasn’t exactly relaxed, but he wasn’t going to make a scene either. 

“Snipe, the homeroom teacher for class 1-E and heroics teacher! Hero name Snipe, quirk is Homing. He can hit any target within six hundred metres, and uses a gun to great effect. He really likes cowboys.”

Snipe mockingly tilted his hat at the principal.

“Majima Higari, the homeroom teacher for class 1-F and head of the support department! Hero name Power Loader, quirk is Iron Claws. He can use them to dig through the dirt and any hard surface short of diamonds, but his true strength lies in his designs!”

"Dokuke Iki, the homeroom teacher for class 1-G and chemistry teacher! Hero name Fume, quirk name Poison Cloud! Every exhale shoots out poisonous fumes, and his tears are made of the same compound. He wears that mask for your protection not his, and the pipes allow him to siphon it away and use it as he likes! It’s a useful quirk, when used in moderation.”

"Ishiyama Ken, the homeroom teacher for class 1-H and teacher of modern literature! Hero name Cementoss, quirk name Cement. He can manipulate any cement-based object he touches in anyway he likes. Unlike most quirks, he doesn’t seem to have a limit, and we at UA have definitely taken advantage of it.”

“I am mostly responsible for making sure the support design and testing rooms remain intact,” Ishiyama remarked serenely. 

“Kayama Nemuri, the homeroom teacher for class 1-I and teacher of art and art history! Hero name Midnight, quirk name Somnambulist. It lets her produce a sleep-inducing perfume from her skin that puts even the strongest willed of people to sleep! It’s certainly useful as it’s non-addictive, and free for students here!”

“It might not be addictive, but I certainly am,” Midnight all but purred. At Izuku’s startled look, she laughed, a snorting guffaw that instantly made Izuku feel more comfortable.

Shiryoku Sen, homeroom teacher of I-J, and teacher of acting and infiltration to our third years! Hero name Exclaim, quirk name X-ray Pulse! He can see through walls! He wears his visor to not invade others’ privacy, and to protect others in case his quirk decides to act up, since it can turn on to higher levels and cause concussive blasts.”

Ectoplasm, teacher of mathematics, and homeroom teacher of 1-K! Hero name, Ectoplasm, quirk name Clones! His quirk allows him to expel ectoplasm from his mouth which then transform into clones of himself - thankfully wearing clothing! He can create thirty at a time, but more on a good day, and because they act as an extension of Ectoplasm himself, there’s no need to worry about betrayal!”

“That’s all of the teachers, Midoriya-kun,” the principal told him happily, still ensconced in his lap. “But I can’t forget our support staff so easily, no!”

We have our school nurse, her name Shuuzenji Chiyo, better known as the Youthful Heroine, Recovery Girl! We have Lunch Rush, our most talented chef, Thirteen, our beloved rescue training coordinator, and Hound Dog, our guidance counsellor.

Then he paused and looked around the table.

“Ah, yes. And I suppose All MIght is here too.”

There was silence, that was only broken from Izuku actually having to bend double to try and hide his giggles. The principal obligingly leaned out of the way.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry, Yagi-sensei,” Izuku managed to get out. “Just, your face when he said that.” He wiped at his eyes and pulled himself together with some effort. “Thank you for the introductions, principal,” he said to the figure still comfortably making himself at home on his lap. “And thank you for taking the time to listen to my ramblings and ideas.” He nodded deeply in lieu of a bow - already hard enough while sitting, it was made nearly impossible by Nedzu’s body still in the way. “I really appreciate it, and I hope we will work well together.”

“Feel free to see yourselves out and go about your day,” the principal told the rest of them kindly. “Midoriya-kun here needs to have a bit of a tour of the grounds, and unless you’d all like to come along…?” There was the sudden scrape and bustle of people leaving, obviously not entirely enthused at the idea of shepherding Izuku or Nedzu around the school. All Might came over to them smiling gently at the both of them. “Would I be allowed to accompany you? I may not be able to stay for the whole time, but it’s been so long since I’ve been here; I could use a refresher of the grounds and such myself.”

“I think that could be arranged,” Nedzu told him, clambering up All Might’s extended arm and settling on his shoulder. “It’s a much better vantage point up here, even if your shoulders are less than comfortable.”

Both of the other two shot him affronted looks. “I can’t help how much weight I’ve lost,” All MIght said while Izuku demanded “did you just call me short and fat?” The principal just cackled and pointed them onwards.

The first place he took them was back to his own office where the principal pressed a few buttons and then quickly typed in a password. After several confirming beeps, there was a slight rumble and part of the wall… detached itself?

Izuku watched in surprise as the chunk of wall pushed itself away from the rest of it, then slid along to the left until a large screen was uncovered. It flickered on and showed a bird’s eye view of the whole of UA.

“This was a while in the making,” Nedzu said as they all looked at the map. “Not just because the technology wasn’t quite there when I envisioned the idea, but because all of UA hadn’t yet been built. My predecessor, for all of his brilliance and ideas did not exactly share the same vision or foresight that I have. I’ve certainly made several changes to the school and its setup since I began my tenure here. I’ve made it mine .”

Nedzu stepped lightly onto his desk and patted it in a pattern, then placed a paw on the square of light blue that popped up. He flexed his wrist, and the screen changed, the buildings rising and falling until UA had about a third of the land it would some day occupy, and only three outbuildings in addition to the main body of the school as opposed to the dozens that it held now.

“UA started off as one of the first hero schools in Japan, and was the first that was actually endorsed and funded. Before it, the other schools were sporadic and not well thought out - so much emphasis was on controlling and hiding quirks that most would not be recognizable as a hero school today. But UA - now, UA was planned.

“From its very conception, UA was a school that would stand the test of time - and as you can see, it has,” Nedzu looked over at them with a sharp grin. “It was designed with the government, instead of against its wishes, though of course, none of those that have ever run UA have ever really been so blind as to trust them on faith alone. Contingencies, loopholes, hideaways, all built within its very foundations.

“The first class that UA made mandatory was law . Not quirk control, not rescue, but ensuring that each and every graduate would know exactly what the government would do to them and their family if they strayed outside the bounds of acceptability. UA wanted no one ignorant, and we still do not.

“Of course, times change. With quirks becoming more commonplace and stronger each generation, the school became open to younger and younger people - it was a night school, of sorts, at first. Only accepted adults. Now it functions as a high school - as the government decrees.” There was a bitter note in his tone that Izuku picked up on, but was unsure of the meaning behind it. That the government decreed that UA was to work as a high school, or that the government decreed anything at all?

Nedzu flicked his paw over the square, and the scene before them morphed slowly, showing the gaining of land and property, the construction of some buildings, the demolition of others. UA grew and grew, and still grew. Bigger than Izuku had really realized. Deeper.

“Of course, we would be remiss if we did not use all of the land granted us.” Nedzu’s smile would have made Izuku shiver if it wasn’t mirrored on his own face. 

“UA is big, so for eases’ sake, let’s divide it into sections. The map zoomed in on the school proper, the entrance, and the actual building they were in now.

“Of course, we have the school proper, where all of the students are free to be, and where all of the regular courses are held.” Six areas lit up, two each on three floors. “The classrooms for the hero courses,” nine more flickered on, “for the general studies,” another nine, “support,” a final nine, “and management.” All of the lit areas fluctuated for a moment then dimmed into nothingness. 

“Then we have the areas for laboratory work - for chemistry and physics and regular class activities that require a bit more space or certain tools than are provided in the regular classrooms.” Several areas, scattered around the map of the school lit up and dimmed after a few moments. 

“The cafeteria of course, and the vending machines that the school stocks.” A large area as well as pinpricks of light flared to life. Izuku and All Might both watched it with interest. 

“For safety reasons, we have the hero and support students go elsewhere when they’re working on heroics and support. Heroic quirks, especially bold and flashy ones that the Hero Comission favours tend to cause damage, and as Majima-kun could tell you, the brightest of the support students tend to be… explosive in their own ways. It’s better for them to have their own locations.

“The heroic students have fields and areas that mimic natural and urban environments, and they’re mainly located to the right and back of the school, while the support students have mainly enclosed warehouses, labs - computer, chemical, and otherwise - as well as areas that allow for storage of their materials and creations. In the interest of keeping volatile quirks from meeting dangerous items, the support area is mostly to the left of the school.” The screen obligingly zoomed over and into where the principal indicated as he was talking.

“We have some other areas, like Thirteen’s Unforseen Simulations Joint - built to their specifications of course! - that while part of UA, are also separate. Thirteen likes to run their own classes there.” Izuku cocked his head. Couldn’t that be a security risk?

“Don’t worry,” Nedzu told him, reading his mind easily. “The USJ is within our security system yes, but it’s a double-looped system, which acts as double-edged sword for those that would like to interfere with UA. No one gets in without Thirteen’s permission, and no one gets out without mine.

“And at the back of UA, we have some apartments where teachers and other staff can choose to live. Recovery Girl does; UA is a safe place for her.”

Izuku nodded slowly. He was not unfamiliar with how healing quirks were coveted. Though Recovery Girl’s quirk didn’t give her any physical or mental drawbacks on her that Izuku knew of - it was the patient whose stamina was drained, not the healer’s - it couldn’t be pleasant being begged and pleaded with, demanded, even threatened to use her quirk. She was a hero yes, but she was very close to retirement age, getting old and tired. And moreover, she was a person , not a convenient quirk dispenser. That Recovery Girl became a hero and used her quirk enough that she was renowned the world over went to show that she was selfless and altruistic, just not as much as the world would always demand. 

“But you wanted a tour, not just a look at a map!” Nedzu smacked his paw down sharply, and the screen went dark and sunk back into the wall as the false wall came sliding back and fit seamlessly back into its place. The two humans blinked at the rodent, and Nedzu wasted no time in hopping back on Toshinori’s shoulder and gesturing them onwards.

“You still have that towel, yes?” 

Unsurprised that Nedzu knew he had the towel with him,” Izuku nodded.

“Alright, then it’s to the laundry room that we’ll go!”

The laundry room was located in a sub basement; not really a place students were allowed to go, much less expected to even know about. They had to make their way through a biometrically scanned door so that they could enter an elevator that went to the sub-basements, and, Nedzu cheerily informed them, if it detected anything out of the ordinary, it would collapse and no one would be happy.

Izuku and Yagi kept quiet, unnerved through the whole ride, and exited out of the lift with much trepidation.

But nothing happened, and Nedzu began a tour of the lower floors.

By the time the first part of the tour had ended - just the part of the three sub levels and the first two floors, leaving the third and fourth floors for a later time, damn was UA huge - Izuku was tired and sweaty. He couldn’t tell if he was more physically or mentally exhausted, though he had to admit to himself that it was probably more mental stress than anything else. He’d had a far too long day - waking up too early, trying to work off the anxiety, the rain falling on him, another run in with Aizawa who seemed determined to dislike him, teaching his class, stressing about the proposal, then having to deliver said proposal to all of the first year teachers he’d be working with, and getting introduced to them, plus a tour… - it was a wonder he wasn’t passed out in bed right now.

Thankfully, home wasn’t too far away. He managed to finish the walk from the subway station, unlock and relock the front door, toe off his shoes, drop his bag on his bedroom floor, strip out of his suit and into pajamas before he fell face first into bed, already halfway into a dream.

As he drifted off, he had the nagging feeling that he was forgetting something, but sleep pulled him down far too fast to do anything about it, much less remember what it even was.

Chapter Text

“Time to wake up! Time to wake up!” 

Izuku slapped his alarm clock and it silenced itself. He stretched and let out a huff of breath, blinking wearily at the morning light coming in.

He patted around on the side table until he found his phone, clicked on the screen and groaned. It was his normal wakeup time, but today was Saturday. He could have slept in. He rolled up, letting his feet fall to the floor and stretched a bit more, yawning all the while.

Exercises were next, but damn he really didn’t feel like it today. Not that he ever really felt like it, he admitted, then dropped into the first exercise’s starting position.

Once he was done and sweaty with it, he glanced at his phone again and realized that not only was his battery almost dead, he also had some emails from Nedzu - one that was marked important. Not flagged in red, not marked urgent, but still important enough that the principal thought Izuku should look at it post-haste. He sank back down to the floor, plugged in his phone to start it charging, and flicked open the first email.

Midoriya-kun,

Today, as you may well know, is a longer block of practical lessons for the hero students. It’s not required that you come in, as it is your day off, however, both Eraserhead and Vlad King have agreed to have you shadow them today and learn about their students’ quirks more so that you can help them with analyzing their own quirks.

Both classes will start directly after lunch and run for three hours; Class 1-A will be in Gym Delta, Class 1-B will be in Gym Epsilon. Eraserhead and Vlad King know to expect you at some point during the day. 

Enjoy yourself.

Nedzu, Principal of UA

P.S. Don’t forget to check out the other email!

He shoved back his sweaty hair and flopped back against the bed. He blew out a breath. He was damn tired, worn out from the day before, but there was a frisson of excitement in his belly. He’d get to see how Aizawa and Kan dealt with their students, would get to see how their students worked!

He hugged himself tightly in excitement, but let go with a grimace. He hadn’t had a chance to get clean last night, and he felt disgusting . 

He quickly showered, leaving his phone to charge, and then went to see about making breakfast. The living room and kitchen were quiet and empty. They felt… cold, despite the interior heating. Empty. Not, not dead , but definitely not wholly alive either. Waiting. Lonely. He shivered, not from the feeling of residual water trickling down his neck, but from the feeling of the house.

He turned in place. His mom was probably sleeping, but there should have been some signs of life. Her bag, her keys tossed carelessly on the kitchen table, a mug from her tea last night. But there was nothing to show that she had been there at all.

He checked the fridge, and there wasn’t anything new in it - not that he expected her to be responsible for stocking the kitchen particularly but it was another sign of her absence and the feeling that the home was being eroded by something he didn’t understand.

Troubled, he raked his hand through his damp hair. He brought his other hand up and laced his fingers behind his neck, trying to remain focused and calm with the excitement from earlier petering out and becoming a heavy weight in his gut. Right. He had wanted to talk to her yesterday. He had been far too tired, he couldn’t begrudge himself that, but had she even come home? 

Ignoring the fact that he had come into the main living space for food, he hurried back to his room and unplugged his phone, paying no mind to the sad little beep it made at being disconnected.

His phone clutched in his grasp, he went to the genkan, and looked. His lips tightened. The shoes she wore daily to work were gone. He turned on the phone screen and flicked quickly through his applications to his text messages. 

There was a message, just the one. They need me to pull an all-nighter, sweetie. I’ll see you Saturday. You might need to pick up more groceries; you know where the petty cash is. Love you.

It had been sent before his first class had even ended, and he frowned. Why would she be needed to pull an all-nighter, and why had she known so early on? Often, the company first asked her to put in an extra hour before going for the whole hog and having her stay overnight ‘because an emergency came up, Inko-san, we really need you here too, please don’t leave us stranded!’

Izuku growled lowly. It felt like she couldn’t get a break. He’d never tell her this, but one of the reasons he had jumped at the chance at this harebrained scheme of Nedzu’s was so that she wouldn’t have to work like this just to make ends meet. With the income he was promised, his mother could spend each and everyday doing what she wanted and never work another day in her life.

He sighed and rested his head against the wall. He just wanted her to be happy .

He’d long given up hopes of his own happiness, after all. At least one Midoriya should be happy.

Rather than trying to figure out what he needed to buy or making do with the rudimentary food that he had in the house, Izuku decided to go out to a local conbini and buy some crap. He made sure the clothes he had on were decent - decent enough for a jaunt to the convenience store anyway, it’s not like any attendants there hadn’t seen worse than loose track pants and a t-shirt that said ‘pants’ on it - slipped on his shoes and made sure he had his wallet, walking the two blocks to the 7-11. 

Once there, he thought about attempting to be healthy, but his darker mood and the relative tastelessness of the ‘healthy alternatives’ steered him towards the sweet flavoured milks and the custard breads, candy, and pocky.

He didn’t hesitate to open up a packet of pocky once he’d paid and left the store, enjoying munching the chocolate-covered cookie sticks as he walked, hoping the sugar and chocolate would make his mood a little brighter. 

It seemed to have worked a bit, lips quirking up a little at the buzz of his phone in his pocket rather than his eyes glaring at it blackly. It was from the teachers’ group chat, and Izuku flicked open the notification as he unlocked the door.

More cat pictures, courtesy of Eraserhead. Izuku smiled at them. He had always wanted a pet of some sort, but with both he and his mom gone all day, it didn’t seem fair to.

He locked the door behind him, and spread his spoils on the kitchen table, hooking a foot around the leg of a chair, pulling it out, then sitting down.

The pocky mostly finished, he cracked open one of the milk teas he had gotten, and opened up his email. Might as well find out what else Nedzu wanted him to know.

There was just the one email sent directly to him. 

Midoriya-kun , it read

Due to the tour and the long day yesterday, I wasn’t able to give you satisfactory answers to your requests made yesterday. Please read this over, and if there is anything you’d like to have changed, let me know and we can talk about it.

• Aizawa and Kan have both agreed to have you shadow them on Saturdays, - this one included - whenever you like. They’re not entirely happy about it, I won’t lie, but this is for the good of the students, and as much as they like to fight amongst themselves, and are defensive of their training styles and such, they shouldn’t oppose you. They understand that I, and you, only want the best for their students. As a secondary note, next week is the annual trip for the first year hero students to the Unforseen Simulation Joint, run by Thirteen. Normally we have two separate classes, but Thirteen is quite busy that week, and has asked Aizawa and Kan if they could get along long enough for their classes to be put together. You should come as well; it’ll be good training for you to see the rescuing parts of heroics in action. 

• Wednesday classes of yours will be canceled until you’ve determined that you’ve learned all you can, and classes A and B will have a joint training session in the interest of group collaboration. This will take place in one of our larger gyms, Gym Alpha-Omega. It’s also the one with the best structural integrity!

• I’ve taken the liberty of booking one of the smaller gyms - Theta - for your personal use of having your students demonstrate their quirks. This is smaller as a matter of design, Midoriya-kun. Many of the hero students have a hard time demonstrating in groups because of the perceived competition; make sure to emphasize that this is only for demonstration purposes. Any that disobey can and will be given detention, served with their homeroom teachers. You’re free to use the gym anytime during one of your classes, and can be booked outside of it - just access the portal and book it manually.

• I have found the perfect space for your office! It is located not too far away from your classroom, and I've gone ahead and checked the soundproofing qualities myself. You could explode a bomb in there and only the smoke and charred remains of furniture would give it away. I assume you’ll want an office styled area as well as a counsellor styled one; not to worry. I should have the room ready by Monday.

• I have no issue with you offering your services outside of the hero course. Letting it be known that you’re available may be a bit more tricky. Write up something for the homeroom teachers of C through K to tell their students in case they’d like to visit you or make an appointment. 

• Present Mic is the only one at school currently who is really qualified to teach JSL, but both Kan and Aizawa seemed keen on introducing field signs in a lecture soon. If enough students are interested, we can set up an elective to learn JSL.

• The dress code is slightly trickier, I’m afraid. I’m not the only one to have any say on what students should or should not wear. Japan as a whole is not yet ready to move onto anything other than a uniform for schools such as this. However, there’s enough vagueness in the dress code rulebook that I shall be able to add a few… loopholes, if you will. Expect an updated rulebook by the end of the semester, but students themselves will receive some sort of communications referring to their preferred garments.

• As Hound Dog told you yesterday, therapy is available to our students, but as you yourself pointed out, that only helps if the students know about it. The UA board will be looking at ways to improve awareness among the student body and the public in general; might as well kill two birds with one stone and improve the image of therapy as we help our students.

• Lastly, discounts. As we already offer a discounted meal to students who may or may not be experiencing financial troubles, it would only make sense for UA to sell sanctioned supplies at a discount. I’ve taken the liberty of informing the Management students about organizing a campaign. They love a challenge.

I believe that’s everything; don’t forget to get back to me about what you’d like the C-K homeroom teachers to tell their students about your office hours - and also what you’d like your office hours to be!

Nedzu, Principal of UA

Izuku blinked. That was quite a bit of information to pack into an email, though to be fair, Izuku supposed, he had also packed as much if not more information into the meeting from yesterday. He ripped open the packaging on a custard bread and tore it in half, scooping the falling filling up quickly before popping it in his mouth. 

He ate neatly after that, thinking. He was honestly… surprised? All of his ideas had been good ones; if they hadn’t been, he never would have had the guts to bring them up at a meeting with Nedzu, let alone a meeting with his new colleagues in force. But he hadn’t really... hadn't actually thought they would be accepted. And if on the off chance it had been accepted, who could have blamed him for thinking that it was all just a ploy? A chance for adults to say ‘yes, we’re paying attention, we care about your thoughts and ideas and our hero students,’ when really they were putting off the implementation of his ideas again and again. But this was... sudden.

Izuku shook his head rapidly, still drying hair flicking out as he did so. He had good ideas. All Might had seen that, had brought him to the principal. Nedzu had seen the potential of his ideas, Izuku’s potential. Had decided to put faith in him, and to see what a year of tutelage under the smartest person in the world could do. 

This shouldn’t be a surprise. It shouldn’t be… but it still was. Izuku rubbed the heel of his hand over his cheekbone and temple. It was something he had to constantly fight to realize, something that he’d have to work hard at, to understand that he was worth that respect, worth Nedzu and the other teachers taking him seriously. 

Though, Izuku had to admit, all nine of his proposals being accepted, nearly half being implemented right away, and the remaining five having assumed deadlines? Even Izuku knew that sort of thing was rarely heard of, especially when related to sudden, large scale changes.

Then again, that was what UA was known for. A rat/stoat/bear/dog principal that could rule the world if he so desired, all hero-teachers, a strangely high expulsion rate, and a willingness to go beyond by any means necessary. Plus Ultra.

It was nearly time for him to go, and his mom still wasn’t home. He pressed a hand to the panicked beating of his heart, tidied up the garbage, stored the leftover snacks for a later time, went to his room to collect some clothes, and breathed.

He dressed and looked at his phone, picked up yesterday’s suit and hung it in a clothing bag in preparation to be delivered to the dry cleaner’s, and breathed.

He pulled on and tied his shoes, checked his bag to make sure he had everything, locked the door behind him, and breathed.

He kept his breathing steady and calm, his expression showing no sign of anxiety, his hands no indication of the trembling he knew his suit hid, his steady gait in opposition to the stumbling trip of his heart, the placid smile on his face a mask for the whirlwind of his thoughts.

He boarded the subway and let soothing sounds from his solitary earbud wash over his mind, and breathed. Right now, he could do little else.

He stood steady and calm, pressed a hand over his heart, thought about where his mother was and what was going on, and breathed. Went into UA. Inko would have to wait, for he had no other option.

His mother would be fine, he told himself sternly. She would be just fine .

But, that insidious whisper welled up from inside him, but what if she’s not? You’ll be all alone, and her only son never lifted a finger to help. What a hero you are , it hissed.

He let it. Just like everything else, he had no control over it. Only control over himself. So he breathed. And walked into chaos.

If nothing else, it certainly sent a shock to his system. He watched, fascinated at the noise and lights and destruction,  how Aizawa just ignored it like it was commonplace. Each student was practicing with their quirk. Caught between wanting to hide at the sound of Bakugou’s explosions and not wanting to let the bright light out of his sight, he compromised and firmly turned his back on the explosive blonde and looked around the rest of the room. Iida was running laps around the room, apparently in an effort to work on his stamina. Uraraka was tethered to a strip of white - Sero’s tape? - and floating high above the rest of them, looking faintly green. Kaminari was playing with a lightbulb - given that his quirk was Electricity, Izuku rather thought that he was actually doing what he was supposed to. Todoroki was against the side of the building, touching a wall and sending out incredibly thin layers of ice over the entirety of the wall, again and again. His fine control and stamina maybe? Ashido was at the wall too, and whether this was part of the assignment or not, Izuku wasn’t sure, but she was using thin streamers of acid to melt through Todoroki’s ice, etching out what might be a letter, or might be an abstract drawing. 

Shouji and Jiro were next to each other in the middle of the room, Shouji with each arm out, all ears, then switching to all eyes, then half and half, then one by one. He kept flinching at the louder sounds as Jirou, driving her ear jacks into the ground repeatedly, did the same. Yaoyorozu was studying a thick tome, snacking idly on mixed nuts, and forming what might be… matryoshka dolls? from different parts of her body as she did so. 

Izuku stepped towards Aizawa, who was standing near Jirou and Shouji, turning idly to keep an eye on everyone. 

“Hello, Aizawa-sensei.”

“Midoriya,” the taller man answered cooly. “Enjoying the show?”

“Can’t say I’m not,” Izuku said, hands tucked in his pockets to stop him from itching for his notebooks. “I am a fan of pretty much every quirk I’ve seen, and your students are exceptional.”

Aizawa sniffed. “Of course they are. They wouldn’t have made it into the hero course otherwise.”

Izuku cocked an eyebrow. “And if a prospective student had a quirk that could immediately shut down all mechanical devices, but had such poor control that they could only use it as a wide pulse that covered a square kilometre? They’d pass the exam, no doubt, but I wouldn’t say that they were exceptional. Little control shows that they’re either scared, hyper-alert, have PTSD, or they’re lazy - and in fifteen-year-olds, the last is usually the most common.”

Aizawa shot him a look. “ You’re fifteen.”

“Yes,” Izuku said easily. “That’s why I know what reasons a hero-hopeful fifteen year old would have poor quirk control. You can want to be a hero and still be incredibly lazy.” He glanced around. “What’s Kaminari meant to be doing, by the way?” he asked.

Aizawa frowned at him. “Channeling enough power to light a lightbulb without blowing it up.”

“Thought so. He’s been sucking on the end it for the past three minutes. Not lazy, just bored because he’s simultaneously afraid he’s going to explode it - he should really have some protective eye gear at the very least, him blowing it up is a real concern - and since his brain’s decided it’s too hard or impossible, he can’t make himself try.” Izuku dropped his bag and pulled out a notebook and a pencil. “I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.”

“To do what?”

Izuku looked over his shoulder. “To help your students, Aizawa-sensei, what else?”

Chapter Text

He picked his way over to Kaminari, thinking of the best way to help this kid, with what he knew about him. Excitable, happy, but the happiness had this kind of… layering façade to it, where Izuku had seen different emotions flicker over his face and in his eyes before being covered up once more with the veneer of happiness. Distractable. Afraid to admit he didn’t know things. Needing several renditions of information, said in different ways. Constant reminders to get back on task. Liking games and memes. Pictures, physical demonstrations.

And he was in front of the blonde kid. He plopped himself down, startling Kaminari, who had been watching Ashido carve… whatever it was into Todoroki’s ice. 

“Hey Kaminari-kun, how’re you doing?”

“Uh, hey, Midoriya-sensei. Not… so good?”

Izuku let a kind smile cross his lips. “So tell me what Aizawa-sensei assigned you.”

Kaminari flushed, the colour riding high on his cheekbones and tinting the tips of his ears. He rubbed the back of his neck, averting his gaze. “I… “

Izuku waited until it was clear that Kaminari wasn’t going to finish the sentence. “You can’t remember?”

Kaminari hunched his shoulders, his face going a deeper red. “No,” he muttered. “I’m stupid.”

“Mm, I don’t think that’s it,” Izuku said calmly. “But what your Aizawa-sensei said to me was that you were supposed to be channeling your quirk into the lightbulb enough to light it, but not enough so that it would break.”

“Oh. Right, yeah, that was it.” Kaminari perked up for a second before seeming to deflate again, twiddling the lightbulb between his fingers.

“So, before we start with that, can I get you to tell me about your quirk, Kaminari-kun?”

“Uh, sure. Basically, I produce a lot of natural electricity, and I can charge the area around me with it. It doesn’t go too far outside my skin, unless I send out a power surge, but that’s got to be pretty powerful, and if I go overboard on that, I kind of… short circuit? I guess the term is? That’s what my quirk counselor said.”

Izuku frowned at that, hand still taking notes. “Short circuit how?”

Kaminari shifted uncomfortably, avoiding his gaze. “My brain just stops working, kind of? Like I go really stupid, and I don’t really pay attention to my surroundings, and I can’t talk, and mostly my body seems to have some sort of self-preservation, because I’ve never walked into somewhere dangerous, and nothing’s ever really happened to me. I think I gravitate towards people I know? Like my parents. And I wandered over to the sidelines at one of our training sessions, near Aizawa-sensei when I’ve used my quirk here. And I go back to normal after about an hour.”

“Okay, that’s all really important information, Kaminari-kun, thank you for telling me. Do you gradually come back to awareness, or is it more of a sudden thing?”

“I think it’s mostly gradual, and then I’ll suddenly snap back once I’ve reached a certain level of awareness?” Kaminari’s voice pitched up at the end, like he wasn’t sure and was asking Izuku if that was the right answer. 

“Do you start hearing things more clearly or seeing?"

“I think I start hearing things first - like, I can hear, but it’s just kind of background noise, but then usually I can understand what people are saying, even if I can’t respond. I don’t know, maybe halfway through I can register what people are saying to me?”

"Do you crave any foods or any specific thing while or after you ‘short-circuit?’” 

The kid's brow furrowed. "I... Is that important?"

Izuku nodded. "It can be. Quirk psychology is, strictly speaking, a newer science. If a quirk user craves or is drawn towards something during or after quirk use, it's generally understood that whatever it is is important to your health, or maybe even something your quirk draws on to work."

Kaminari looked down, his hands pressing into his ankles. "Mom always said it was because I didn't want to eat her cooking," he mumbled. "But I always want snacks after, like chips or pretzels."

"Hmm." Izuku covered his mouth, thinking. "It could be that you're hungry after expending energy, but..." He looked back at Kaminari. "Never sweets, or breads? Always salty snacks?"

"Uh huh."

Izuku tapped his pencil against the notebook. "Okay, I'll have to look into that more, but if you feel like you're craving salt like that after using your quirk, go for it. It's more likely to help than harm." He noted that bit down, and nodded, looking back up at him. “And how much electricity does it take for you to short-circuit?”

Kaminari smiled for the first time, sitting upright, and pressing a fist to his chest in a dramatic pose. “One point three million volts!”

Izuku blinked. “Volts?”

“Uh huh!”

“Kaminari-kun, do you know the difference between watts, ohms, volts, and amps?”

And there went any sign of confidence or delight. Shoot. “Uh… no?”

“Okay, let’s see if I can explain. Imagine electricity as a river. It flows from point A,” Izuku wrote an A on the ground, “to point B.” He drew a straight line and wrote a B at the other end. “Electricity isn’t a static thing, it’s always moving. How fast the river moves is the voltage.” Izuku drew his hand lazily between the points, then again, this time much faster. “The slower it moves, the lower voltage it is. The faster, the higher.” He looked up at Kaminari. “With me so far?”

“I… I think so.”

“Amps is how much electricity or water there is. If the river is big, it’s going to move a lot more water than if it was only a few centimetres wide, right?"

“Yeah, that makes sense.”

“So if there’s more amps, there’s more electricity, if there’s fewer amps, there’s less. Like a wide river, or a narrow one.” Izuku demonstrated with widening and narrowing his hands together over the line. 

Kaminari bit at his lip too, one hand tracing lines on the ground beside him. “Okay,” he said. He didn’t sound sure but in Izuku’s experience, repetition and actually seeing results would help drive the idea home.

“Watts is how much electricity gets from point A to point B in total over a certain amount of time, like kilometres per hour. You do have to do some math for this part, but it’s a very simple formula.” He scribbled quickly in the dirt. “Watts equals Amps times Volts.” 

“Now, I did mention Ohms, but that’s a little more complicated, so I won’t go too much into it. It’s basically the resistance of objects - like if you tried to zap a wall, or the floor, or some copper wire or a friend, it would take different amounts of the electricity for the electricity to pass through it, right?”

Kaminari nodded slowly, biting his lip, brow furrowed. “Right.” His voice was slow, the word drawn out, but Izuku could see the fight to understand and conceptualize the idea.

“Now, we should probably get a voltage and amperage reader, so we can get a good grasp on what exactly type of power you’re actually outputting, Kaminari-kun,” Izuku said, scribbling the ideas down in his notebook. “What do you normally use your quirk for, around your home?”

Kaminari flushed again. “Uh… Mostly I charge my family’s phones?”

“And how do you do that?” Izuku looked at Kaminari with a thoughtful eye. “Kaminari-kun, there’s no need to feel embarrassed. There’s no wrong answer. My job is to help you get better, and to do that I need to have an idea about how your quirk works.” He quirked a smile. “I’m not going to start telling you you’re doing it wrong; promise.”

Kaminari nodded uncomfortably. “I mostly stick the power cable in my mouth when it’s plugged in.”

“Hmm, okay, have you tried stic- no, I actually need to ask one of your other classmates for a favour first. Sit tight Kaminari-kun, I’ll be right back, okay?”

The blonde nodded and Izuku got to his feet, making a beeline back to Aizawa. Izuku could tell that the teacher knew he was there, though he made no move to acknowledge him. Not deterred, Izuku went straight to the point.

“Do you have any safety equipment with you? Goggles, specifically?”

“Not with me, no,” the man said, drawling his words in a way seemingly designed to make Izuku feel stupid about asking.

“Okay. Your student Yaoyorozu-san can make things from her adipose tissue, yes?”

At Aizawa’s confused nod, Izuku nodded decisively and walked over to the girl on the sidelines.

“Yaoyorozu-kun, if I may ask a favour?”

“Oh, um, hello Midoriya-sensei,” the girl said, quickly closing her book and swallowing the food that was in her mouth. “If I can help, I’d like to!”

“Excellent.” He plopped himself down beside her on the bench. “Do you know how to make safety goggles?”

Her brow furrowed. “I think so. Standard make, or some other material?” 

“Whatever the standard is should be fine. Could you make two pairs? I can compensate you for the items, of course,” he added.

She shook her head, already lifting up her shirt to form the items from her abdomen. “I couldn’t. Besides, this is something you need to help someone, right?” One pair of goggles fell into her waiting hand, and Izuku took it from her curiously, watching the fractal lights form around the second pair, made much quicker this time. 

“It’s to save Kaminari-kun from potentially getting a shard of lightbulb in his eye,” Izuku told her dryly. A few moments later, he was taking the second pair, this one framed with black and gold lightning bolts around the elastic strap and the frames. He held it up, twisting it under the light.

“Yaoyorozu-kun, this is amazing,” he told her, completely serious. “The artistry- you only had, what, three seconds of knowing whom this one was for, and you went ahead and added such specific details.”

She blushed, shaking her head in denial. “It’s good practice, really!” she said. “And I’ve found that people like having things… monogrammed in a way. It makes it all the more special to them.”

“That’s definitely true.” Izuku sketched a bow to her and she, flushing still, returned it. “I really appreciate this Yaoyorozu-kun, and I’m sure that Kaminari-kun will as well. And I’m sure to treasure these,” he added with a smile. “You’re very talented, and I can already see what an asset you’re going to be to your class and the hero world.”

He let her try to deny his words as he went back to Kaminari. He grinned at the boy as he sat down next to him, heedless of the dirt and grime that would smear a lesser set of trousers. “Sorry for the wait, Kaminari-kun,” he told him. “I had to get some protection in case this experiment goes a little too well.”

“That was excellent for a first try, Kaminari-kun - no, I’m serious,” he pressed when the kid shook his head in denial. “Kaminari-kun, you’re doing excellently. You have nothing to worry about,” he added. “It’s fine that it didn’t explode, and it’s fine that it only lit up for a few seconds - that’s wonderful progress!”

Kaminari peeked up at him from his folded arms. “Really?”

“Really.” He patted his notebook. “And I’ve got lots of notes on your quirk and how you use it, which means that I’ll have something to help you improve soon. Now, one last thing before I find someone else to torture with my inane questions,” he winked jokingly. “You subconsciously use the mucous membranes in your mouth to channel electricity passively, and that’s probably the first step to getting different items lit up while directing your quirk. The next is doing so consciously, and lastly, it’s to do so using your fingers, or your arm, or some other part of your body. Keep trying to maintain a steady rate of electricity, and keep those goggles on!” he cautioned. “Trust me, getting shards of glass in your eye is no fun at all.”

He stood and patted Kaminari on the shoulder. “Just keep at it, and I’ll see you on Monday alright?”

“Yes sensei,” he was answered with an actually genuine smile before the blonde popped the tip of the lightbulb back to the inside of his lip. 

Izuku stripped off his own goggles as he walked back over to Aizawa.

“So?”

“So…?” Izuku asked, bending to slip the goggles into his bag for safe keeping, then standing up and looking around at the various members of class A. 

Aizawa rolled his eyes like Izuku was being deliberately obtuse. “So how was Kaminari-kun doing?”

“Well, first off,” Izuku said, “he didn’t really know how electricity works. How to measure it, or how it flows. And he frequently ‘short-circuits,’” he said with a rising intonation, using his fingers to quote the words “which he just accepts as normal, but really doesn’t seem all that normal to me. I’ve got him focusing on keeping a steady stream through the inside of his lip - he doesn’t have fine control through his fingers yet. He’ll have to work up to it.”

Aizawa’s eyebrows raised in what Izuku thought might be surprise. “That’s quite a lot of information for ten minutes of interaction.” 

“I just talked to him,” Izuku told the older man. “It’s amazing how much information you can get out of a kid when you just listen to what they say.” He flipped open his notebook and added a couple of notes to the ones already there.

“Who else might need extra help?” he asked Aizawa, since his eyes were constantly scanning his students as he stood sentinel.

“You can check on Todoroki, if you must,” Aizawa told him, eyes assessing. “He has a tendency to overuse his ice side, and will push himself to physical, mental, and quirk exhaustion.”

“Alright,” Izuku said, tucking his notebook under his arm. “I’ll do that then.”

Walking over, weaving his way through destroyed ground and dodging quirks here and there, he studied the teen. He stood out with his divided hair, and his birthmark? Scar? Only added to the distinctive look. 

He thought back to what he already knew about Todoroki. Son of Endeavor and his wife - Rei? Yuki? Yukimi? Something related to cold and ice and snow anyway - he was their fourth and final child. Endeavor had the quirk Hellflame, and his wife, judging from her name and from Todoroki’s usage of ice and large glaciers, had something related to ice or freezing. Judging solely from the colouring, one would suspect that this Todoroki had a dual-natured quirk of fire and ice. He grimaced. Quirk marriages had been outlawed in the last century, but there was no  way to really prove if something was a forced marriage due only to quirks. This may have well been an innocent marriage that only happened to produce a child that had use of two opposing elements, but Izuku doubted it. He didn’t like Endeavor, he never really had, but more importantly, he didn't trust him. He wouldn't put a quirk marriage beyond the man.

Ashido was still etching what Izuku now realized were words into the ice, though she looked like she was starting to flag, shivering with the encroaching ice being renewed again and again. His eyes shot back over to Todoroki. He was shivering too, if anything, more violently than Ashido was. That wasn’t good.

“Todoroki-kun, Ashido-kun,” he called out. “Take a break for a few moments.”

Ashido skipped back from the iced wall almost immediately, shaking out her hands with a grimace. Todoroki was slower to respond, letting another wave of ice overtake the wall before he turned and looked at Izuku devoid of any outward emotion. But he was still shivering, and even from more than ten feet away, Izuku could see pale, shining patches on his skin. Ice. 

“Come, come, sit,” he bade, patting the ground next to where he almost immediately plopped down. Ashido did so with a grin, shifting her torso with her fingers laced above her head, while Todoroki, slow still, approached with a stiff gait, and only sat on the ground with them after a long considering look like he was judging how much he could trust them. 

But he eventually did sit, and Izuku favoured them both with a smile. “Ashido-kun, what were you working on?”

She grinned. “Aizawa sensei was going to have me try and melt the biggest hole I could manage, but I’m trying to work on my consistency - I was trying to write all the same size without the acid dripping.”

“Very creative! How did you find it?”

She tilted her head in thought. “Really hard at first. I’m used to making my acid really liquidy and slippery, so it was running all over the place at first. But then I started reducing the water content of it and adjusting how acidic it was so I wasn’t melting all the way through Todoroki-kun’s ice on my first try; if I wasn't careful I might have gone through the wall too!”

“And I’m sure Aizawa-sensei would have been incredibly pleased had that been the case,” Izuku said with a great amount of gravitas.

Ashido and Todoroki just looked at him for a moment, unsure if he was joking until Izuku let his poker face crack under the pressure of his grin. Ashido burst into laughter while Todoroki kept up his poker face up for so long that Izuku was legitimately starting to worry that he was actually frozen. 

“And you, Todoroki-kun?”

The other boy blinked at him for a long moment before he replied. “I was to work on my stamina and fine control by sending sheets of ice along the wall so that Ashido could then carve into it with her acid.”

“I see, I see,”” Izuku said, noting down a few things.

“Ashido-kun,” he addressed her, “when you’re up for it, I have another exercise for you. How do you mainly use your quirk, what part of your body?”

“Um, my feet and the palms of my hands probably? I tend to kind of throw handfuls of acid. I’ve got a good throwing arm, and it’s heavy enough I can aim it pretty well!”

“That’s great! If Todoroki-kun would be kind enough to make a pillar of ice, say a five-foot cube?” Todoroki nodded, but didn’t make to get up, “Thank you Todoroki-kun, then Ashido-kun, try using the tip of your finger. Does your acid sting, or hurt after prolonged use?" At her nod, he continued, "when it gets to be too much, switch to the next finger. Try writing a poem or even just your thoughts out. And if that gets too easy for you,” he added, “try making each new word just a little bit deeper into the ice.”

“Okay, I can do that!” Ashido cheered. Her mood was contagious and Izuku grinned back at her, though he noticed that Todoroki hadn’t looked anything but bored since before he sat down. 

“Todoroki-kun, I have some questions about your quirk too; it might be easier if you made the block for Ashido-kun now,” Izuku prompted and Todoroki nodded, walked a dozen or so steps, then twisted his right foot. A block of ice rose from just a few inches from the toe of his boot, the edges jagged and rough and not a cube either - one side, the part away from Todoroki was noticeably pointed, the sides looking almost gouged. He turned and walked back to them, and Izuku’s eyes picked out the trembling of his right hand, the sheen of frost on his hair and face and the shuddering breath he blew out. This was… not good for him, Izuku realized. Well. That’s what he was here for, wasn't he?

Ashido, after melting down the sides to make a smoother writing surface, had attacked the ice with glee and far more energy than Izuku thought she should have, especially after having used her quirk nearly nonstop for over an hour now. 

Todoroki kept up his indifference even after Izuku cleared his throat to get his attention. At least he looked over, Izuku thought, though the mismatched blue and grey eyes startled him a bit with the intensity despite the rest of his face appearing to not care in the least. 

“So, Todoroki-kun, I’ve noticed you tend to prefer large scale attacks. I saw the footage of one of your first hero classes, where you iced the entire building. Very impressive.” Todoroki started to lower his head in thanks, “but I think you could do better.”

“We won .” 

Was that anger in his voice, Izuku wondered, or just the intensity of an otherwise banal phrase?

“Sure, but you were paired up with Asui-kun, yes?”

“Yes?” My, such dismissal in that single word! Izuku was almost impressed.

“So what’s her quirk?”

“I-”

Izuku waited a moment but when no other information was forthcoming, he said “her quirk is Frog. It gives her many characteristics similar to a frog; it lets her jump very high, climb walls, and I know she has a long tongue as well. But,” he added, raising a finger when Todoroki looked ready to interject, “she also has the weaknesses of a frog.”

When the other boy just looked some combination of stumped and uncaring, Izuku elaborated. “Cold, Todoroki-kun. If she gets too cold, she falls into a mode not unlike hibernation. By using your quirk in such an extreme way, Asui-kun was not only left to stand in the sidelines, but she was rendered unable to even enter the building. If either of your opponents had managed to escape the ice, or had not been captured in the first place, it very likely would have turned into a one on one or even a two on one battle. And Asui-kun would have been stuck at the bottom of the building, unable to help, and not even knowing what was going on.”

The look of dawning realization on his face was a sight to behold. “Oh.”

Amused, Izuku responded. “Yes. ‘Oh.’ I know you’re young, Todoroki-kun, but the sooner you look to see what problems your quirk may cause instead of just how everything will be solved by them, the better you’ll be. Which leads me to the next part. Describe your quirk for me please.”

Todoroki visibly hesitated, eyes shuttering. Was he going to lie to him, Izuku wondered. Why? What would that help?

But then he let out a long, slow breath like he was gearing up for the worst and said bluntly, “my quirk is called Half-Hot Half-Cold. I can create ice with my right side and fire with my left.” Then he fixed Izuku with a glare, as if daring him to argue. “I will not use my left side.”

What.

“And why’s that?” 

A blink. “I swore an oath.”

Well. “An oath to not use half of your quirk?”

“Yes. I won’t use h- the fire.”

“Forgive me for being blunt Todoroki-kun, but what will you do when you come across a situation where fire or warmth is the only thing that will help?”

“I’ll figure it out then.”

Izuku cocked his head at him, looking at him. “How about you figure it out now,” Izuku suggested mildly. “You’re at the scene of a rescue in the dead of winter. You’ve used your ice to shore up a building’s foundation, but that’s made it even colder. There’s a woman asking for help, but she’s only wearing pajamas, and no paramedics have arrived yet. You have no other clothing or blankets to offer her, and it’s very cold. What will you do?”

“I-”

“Or, you’re out in the woods, but you’re soaked through after a tumble in the river. Your matches are useless, but you’re cold and you need to cook something to make it through the night. There’s plenty of wood around. Will you sit there and shiver and suffer?”

“Or what about now,” Izuku said, ruthlessly talking over Todoroki. “You’ve been shivering this whole time, only working with ice. Refusing to let your body establish thermodynamic equilibrium within yourself because you don’t want to use part of your quirk."

He indicated the patches of frost still present on Todoroki's face. “Every quirk has its drawbacks, and you’re experiencing one now. You won’t help yourself like this, Todoroki-kun, only hurt yourself. You’re hurting yourself now. Why?”

He let his eyes bore into Todoroki’s, knowing that others have said that his gaze was intense. He let the full force of his frustration and confusion come through his eyes, and the other boy stared back, just as wide-eyed.

When Todoroki looked away, Izuku let himself blink. “If you don’t want to use your quirk, I can’t force you,” Izuku told him quietly. “But I do need to let you know that you’re severely stunting your abilities and capabilities in the long run, stressing your body, and even lowering your immune system by not letting your body do what it wants to do. It’s fine if you don’t want to discuss it here; I know I wouldn’t. But I’ll have a private office hopefully sometime next week and office hours. I hope you’ll come speak to me then, Todoroki-kun, if only to find out a way of how you can maintain your oath without hurting yourself more than necessary.”

By the time that Izuku had finished sketching out his notes, Todoroki was focusing incredibly hard on creating tiny, hollow ice spheres. Little bubbles that shone the same as if they were soap, and as Todoroki proved by accidentally dropping one, nearly as fragile. 

Although there were small flecks of frost on his right hand, he wasn’t shivering any longer. The focus he had to use to create small and delicate objects was far greater than the toll his ice quirk took on his body, and his forehead was creased in concentration, not in pain, his mouth thin from focus, not resignation. 

Izuku smiled, and quietly stood up, walking back to Aizawa and leaving Todoroki to it. 

“Do you know why Todoroki isn’t using his fire,” he immediately asked as soon as Aizawa was in earshot.”

Aizawa just blinked at him. “I presume it’s because most of the assignments he’s been given have been more effective with ice.”

Izuku shook his head, now standing next to the man. “No, he won’t use his fire. He told me straight out that he wouldn’t. Not even to warm himself up after using his ice constantly for however long he’s been here.”

Aizawa turned and narrowed his gaze towards Todoroki. “What do you have him doing now?”

“Making ice bubbles. Working on his small scale quirk usage; we’ve already seen that he has a lot of stamina and can make huge attacks. But I asked him to make a cube of ice, and there was no precision, which is fine, but I think he needs to work on delicacy and precision and detail. He probably spent the last ten years only working on the size of his attacks.”

“Just like Endeavor, to do that,” Aizawa mumbled under his breath. Izuku caught the words, but other than a look, didn’t respond to it. 

“Anyway, once Todoroki can make those without thinking, I’ll get him to work on more complex shapes and other things that require detail.” He grinned a little. “I’ll make a sculptor out of him yet.”

“And Ashido?” 

“She’s practicing writing with smaller movements, with her fingertips instead of handfuls of acid. Useful in attacks, but not great if she’s trying to be stealthy.”

“Good.”

Izuku checked his pocket watch, and glanced around before nodding. “Thank you again for allowing me to come to your practice, Aizawa-sensei. I’m off to Gym Epsilon to check in with class B.” He bowed politely. Aizawa looked at him with steady, assessing eyes that made Izuku feel vaguely like he was being dissected, then dismissed him with a wave of his hand.

Izuku left the gym, waving to students that noticed him on the way out, and closed the door softly behind him. 

He thought back to the tour that Nedzu had given him. The gyms weren’t in alphabetical order like their names made them seem - while this would have been easier for first time students, they weren’t expected to wander around aimlessly without their teachers - the real kicker was that it messed up anyone able to get inside that wasn’t supposed to be there. Gym Epsilon, despite being right after Delta in the greek alphabet, was about four gyms away. 

When he reached it, he slipped in the door, not sure of what he would find. What he found was half of the students put together in quirkless combat, the other half and their teacher watching them and calling out suggestions - some useful like those from Kendou and Kan, and some that were designed to trip the others up, like those from Monoma. 

He approached the larger man who really stood out in his hero uniform compared to the rest of the students in their blue PE strip. 

“Ah, Midoriya-sensei. Principal Nedzu said you might be here. Come to watch? Participate?” A disturbing number of his students lit up at that last word. 

“Uh, no, but thank you. Just watching or offering advice. Getting to know the students and their quirks better. I don’t think my suit is the best thing for sparring in.”

“Probably not, no,” Kan said, laughing a little. “Hmm, are you comfortable talking about quirkless fighting styles or quirks more?”

“I’d have to say quirks,” Izuku admitted. “That’s more my area of expertise though of course I can put in my two cents about quirkless combat as well.”

“I see,” hummed Kan. “Alright, this half is about to come off break, so we’ll switch.” His attention switched to those currently sparring. “Alright you lot!” he shouted. “Break time! Behave for Midoriya-sensei!”

Blinking a bit at the abrupt shift in tone and volume, Izuku nonetheless smiled at the groaning students that were leaving and the sweaty and tired incoming ones. Kan left with them to more closely supervise them.

“Hey guys. Tired?” he asked and chuckled at the resulting collapse and groans of the more dramatic students. 

“It’s so hard,” whined one. “I just wanna use my quirk.”

Izuku winced. He didn’t know how Kan would react, but they should all be glad that Aizawa wasn’t here to hear that.

“That’s understandable,” he addressed the complaining student, Kamakiri. “But what if your quirk is useless in a fight you’re in? Or what if you’ve reached quirk but not physical exhaustion? Or the enemy is too close or too far to reach with your quirk? Just as quirks have granted people special abilities, so too have they bestowed weaknesses that people without your specific quirk just don’t have.”

“Can’t see too many times when my quirk would be useless,” Kamakiri said flippantly.

“Really?” asked Izuku, not surprised in the least. “I can think of half a dozen situations right now. Your blades are made of metal right?”

At Kamakiri’s nod, Izuku nodded back and said, “bring one out for me please?”

Looking a little startled at the request, Kamakiri complied and showed Izuku the blade. Izuku took it gingerly. It was heavy, a dull silver, with mirror bright edges that attested its sharpness. He ripped off a piece of blank paper out of his notebook and laid it against the edge of the blade. It sliced through immediately. Izuku raised an eyebrow. Impressive. Few things were sharp enough to do such a thing. He pressed a foot underneath it and tried to bend it. It bent a small amount, then would not budge, no matter how much force or leverage he applied. Very sharp, very strong. 

“This is incredible, Kamakiri-kun,” Izuku told him earnestly. “But the earlier problem still stands.”

Kamakiri crossed his arms. “Like?” he challenged.

“You’re vulnerable to different quirks when you’re using yours,” Izuku told him bluntly. “Heat is channeled through metal, which can burn your skin. Cold as well, which can cause frostbite. Electricity.” Izuku smiled, a little meanly. “We have two people in class 1A that could cause damage to you like that. With it being metal, it’ll make you heavier, which is dangerous when you’re in the water or in precarious positions. The blades are incredibly sharp, all the way around, and they don’t have much as anything to use as a handle besides a bit of a tang, which is dangerous to civilians, other heroes or sidekicks, and villains. Yes, villains too,” he said sharply at the furrowing of brows and opening mouths. “I’m not going to test it further now, but I’m fairly sure that these could cut to the bone. You get a villain in a vulnerable place, or your aim is a little off, you could cause them to bleed to death in less than a minute.” His eyes flashed. “I’m very serious about this. Quirks are a dangerous business. Kamakiri-kun,” he said, addressing the boy. “How would you deal with a situation while you’re carrying a civilian and they suddenly reach out to touch the blades?”

There was only silence.

“Exactly.”

Izuku sighed. “I’m not meaning to scare you, any of you,” he said gently. “I’m only trying to make you aware of the dangers. Quirks let you do amazing things, but they add dangers of their own.” 

He looked over them all. “I want you to remember that. If you remember nothing else, remember that quirks can make you vulnerable just as they can make you strong.”

Chapter Text

Izuku sat, fidgeting in the centre of Gym Epsilon, hoping he hadn’t gone too overboard. He was nervous about that, nervous that his desire for the students to remain safe would drive them away, scare them. They wanted to be heroes, yes, but they were still only fifteen . Children. 

He risked a glance at the group of students surrounding Kan. He was telling them more things about quirkless combat. Komori raised a hand and asked a question. Kan glanced over at Izuku, then nodded. To his surprise, Komori nodded a bow and skipped towards him before smiling at him shyly.

“Hello Midoriya-sensei! Kan-sensei said it was okay if I asked you about my quirk and what I should work on.”

“Uh sure. Feel free to sit, Komori-kun. Tell me more about your quirk? It’s Mushrooms, right?”

“That’s right. I can send out spores from my body and in humid enough conditions, they grow very quickly into mushrooms.”

“Hmm, how wide do they spread? Do they go through your clothing, or does that stop the spores? Will they still grow after a while even if it’s dry?”

She peeked up at him through her bangs, crosshatched eyes looking curious. “It’s very widespread,” she told him, “and I can’t really control where it goes. I’m not sure if it goes through my clothing; I tend to get the mushrooms on the outside of my clothing especially. And if it’s too dry, they won’t grow at all. The mushrooms and spores only last a few hours,” she added apologetically. “At least it makes cleanup easier.”

“Can you grow certain types?”

She hesitated. “I can grow certain types, but the few times that I tried to grow one type alone, there were other kinds interspersed among them.”

“How about poisonous, hallucenigenic, or edible ones? Ones that are used in medicine, or with dyes?”

“I can, but like I said, they disappear after a few hours.”

“Hmmmm.” Izuku hummed in thought. “How do they disappear? Do they rot, or lose their roots and fall off? Disintegrate, decay, or just” he wiggled his fingers, ‘“fade away? Have you tried doing it on soil or decaying trees where the mushrooms would naturally grow? Or in compost?”

She shook her head, looking a little bewildered by the rapid-fire questions. “I live in an apartment building; I don’t really have access to that, since I can’t use my quirk in public.”

Izuku nodded. “Alright, well that shouldn’t be incredibly hard to test. I can’t deny that having the mushrooms disappearing on their own is useful especially in urban environments, but if you want to branch out and use your quirk to supply mushrooms as food or medicine, it’s definitely something to look into. And if you ever have to use your quirk in a natural setting.”

She nodded resolutely, residual shyness seemingly melting away under the promise of quirk training. 

“So what do you want to focus on first? Longevity, precision, specificity?”

Komori tilted her head in thought, eyes calculating. “I think precision,” she said slowly. “Longevity will only be a pain if I can’t control where the mushrooms grow, and being specific about what’s growing won’t make widespread growth any more or less dangerous.”

Izuku nodded, he had thought much the same. “Alright, then our first order of business is to figure out which parts of your body produces the spores. Most emitter type quirks work through the hands; it’s the body part we generally understand the best as base humans. Others, like Midnight’s, work through all areas of her skin. One method that’s a potential if it turns out you can’t actually control where the spores are emitted is an anti-fungal spray, but considering your quirk, that might actually harm you. Very tightly woven cloth like Midnight has may help. Or it may be under your conscious control with practice.”

“How do we test it?”

“Isolated bags, I’m thinking. Not entirely sure where I can get those, but I’m sure that if UA doesn’t have them, we can get some. For now, why don’t you try misting up a larger area - ask Fukidashi-kun if he’ll help maybe? And try to limit the area where they’ll spread. You’ll have to really focus, Komori-kun,” he warned her. “And it’s going to be difficult. Area of effect quirks are hard to harness and draw in, especially if this is the only way you’ve used it since you developed your quirk.”

She nodded, looking more than willing - eager even - to put in the work. 

He grinned at her, and she strode to Fukidashi’s side, and after a few moments, they went to a quieter area where the boy drenched the ground and walls.

Izuku grinned. The hero students here would go far. He was certain. And he would be here, every step of the way. He closed his eyes, basking in the feeling of a job well done, at least for the moment.

But as soon as his mind slipped away from the feeling of satisfaction, the dread and worry he had been feeling was rising up past the barriers he had placed, making him feel like he was treading dangerously high waters, head only just barely above the water. 

But footsteps came towards him, and he opened his eyes to see Monoma approaching him.

“Monoma-kun,” he greeted. “I trust you’ve been well?”

The blonde nodded, his eyes roaming over his classmates. Without asking, he sat down beside Izuku, eyes flickering between the others and his teacher, glancing sidelong. He had a question that he didn’t know how to put into words, Izuku figured, but because he didn’t know what it was (he could only guess), and putting the kid on the spot might make it more difficult for him to say what he wanted to say, Izuku just leaned back on his hands and looked up at the ceiling, waiting.

After only a few minutes of tense silence, Monoma broke it.

“How do I do what you do?” Monoma said. His voice was as quiet as a whisper, like he was ashamed of his question. 

Izuku sat up straighter, looking at the other teen. He was sitting hunched over and curled in, like he was trying to protect himself. Izuku looked at him steadily.

“You already do.”

He scoffed. “What? No I don’t. Don’t be stupid.” As the words came out of his mouth, he blanched, but Izuku paid it no mind.

“Monoma-kun, of the forty students that I’ve met so far, there’s been five that have caught my eye as already having a knack for analysis. You’re one of them.”

Silence. Izuku looked over at him and let the corner of his mouth tilt up a little. The poor guy looked shell-shocked, eyes wide as he stared at him. 

“Monoma-kun, you do what I do and you do it without any training besides what your quirk tells you. I’m self-taught; it started with a love of heroes, then a love of quirks, and then watching those heroes and knowing that they could be better . You do that too, don’t you - you look at everyone around you, you look at their quirks, and you know that they could be better.”

“It’s more dangerous for you, of course, because you’re analyzing people and their quirks to be able to use them as part of your own. Some quirks won’t work - you can’t copy most mutation quirks, right? And others will be next to useless for you because you’d require so much training. Does your quirk give you… some sort of guideline on how to use it? What the requirements for them are, and such?”

Monoma nodded. “I don’t think I could use half of the ones I do without that knowledge. It’s like this intrinsic knowledge of how the quirk works is suddenly there when I copy a quirk. And it’s not the same as the original owner of the quirk would feel either; I’ve talked to a few people about it. They don’t have an intrinsic knowledge of how their quirk works, not really. Emitter quirks usually have something special you have to do before they’ll turn off. They have to be de-activated. And most people have to figure that out. Which is why quirk counsellors are so helpful.

“But I don’t have to figure that out. It’s given to me by the quirk itself.”

“And that , Monoma-kun, is very valuable information to have. You have knowledge. I only have guesswork.”

Monoma looked at him, but Izuku had his eyes closed, smiling up at the ceiling like he was basking in the summer sun.

“So,” Izuku continued. “What can you do with it?” He peeled an eye open and looked at Monoma sidelong. “Tell me.”

“I can copy three quirks at a time, and hold them for just under five minutes. I can feel them starting to… fade at about four minutes and twenty seconds, but I can use them until they’re completely gone, with no fading of the power or strength or anything. I can’t use mutative quirks properly, but if an emitter quirk has a mutative element to it, I’ll often gain part of that same mutation myself. If the quirk requires me to have something to use it - like the amount of fat Fatgum, the BMI hero has, then it either won’t work properly, or I won’t be able to use the quirk at all. I think if I was constantly next to the person, and could keep copying their quirk before it ran out, I might absorb it if it wasn’t something that human-standards would absorb? But I’m not sure.” Monoma looked down at his hands, and there was something sad, bitter, resigned about his posture and tone. “Not too many people like my quirk.” The smile that tilted his lips held those same emotions. “It’s funny, people like to tell me that I can’t be a hero because my quirk is too weak, while at the same time they like to tell me that I could only ever become a villain because of my quirk.” This time, his smirk was fully bitter. “But I’ll become a hero if it’s the last thing I do.”

Izuku stretched and bid farewell to Kan and the surrounding students. Komori was still concentrating on narrowing her quirk with the help of Fukidashi, and Monoma was talking to a few others in his class, probably about borrowing their quirks. Though he currently could only use one copied quirk at a time, he was hoping that by practicing switching between quirks quickly, he could eventually use them simultaneously, allowing himself to boost the quirks he used without the need for additional teamwork.

He shut the door behind him as he left, and reflexively checked his phone. He sighed. No new messages. He paced in a tight circle and shoved his fingers deep into his hair, gripping handfuls of his curls in frustration. He didn’t know what to do.

He was only fifteen. He might be a teacher, he might be stubborn, might be smart, but he was, really, still just a kid, and while he knew intellectually that no one expected him to hold all the answers, part of himself was raging at how pathetic he was. At how he could do nothing to help his mother. At how little he had managed today with the two classes. Vicious, circling thoughts that went around and around in his brain, darting in and whispering dark truths.

Izuku clenched his teeth and pulled his bag tight to his body. He was going to go home. He was going to clean the house. And he would find out what was wrong.

He breathed in. He breathed out. And told himself that everything was okay.

The voices chittered with laughter.

Sure , they said, choking back their snickers. Everything will be fine. Go ahead Izuku. Go ahead and believe that.

The subway ride felt like it took hours instead of the ten minutes that his watch insisted the trip was. He folded his phone and earphones back into his bag, unused. He was far too stressed to use them. Even the thought of being distracted made him feel like he would be missing something that could lead him to understanding just what the hell was going on.  As soon as he was past the turnstiles, he broke into a jog, unable to just walk, too embarrassed to run flat out. He kept his bag tucked tightly against him so it wouldn’t bang uncomfortably on his hip or jerk too far out and smack into an innocent pedestrian. Not too far from home now, the calmer part of his brain noted. Just another few blocks. His pace increased, and he almost broke into a flat out run before an inconvenient crosswalk went red. He bit his lip and almost went to pace, but the other people standing there obediently took up the room it would have taken. Instead he hugged his arms tightly around himself, trying to provide more pressure to soothe himself. But as soon as the walking man symbol lit up, he was off like a shot, dodging around people coming in the opposite direction and taking the path of least resistance.

On, past the corner store, past the ramen stand, past the bank and police box, past the entrance to a small public garden, past the first apartment block, another corner store, and then the apartment building that he and his mom lived in. His hands were shaking so badly at this time that when he finally managed to fish the keys out of his bag, he fumbled them and dropped them twice before finally managing to get the gate key in the lock. Then he swung it shut behind him and it caught on the fabric of his jacket. True to Nedzu’s promises, the fabric stayed sturdy and strong, but the extra few seconds that Izuku had to take to untangle himself made him want to both cry and scream. But it really was only a few seconds, and Izuku made himself step with more care so the pounding of his feet wouldn’t alert the neighbours. Most of them were nice, but there were a few that glared each time they saw him - whether it was because of his youth, or his quirklessness, Izuku didn't know or care, but it was easier to at least try and not disturb them.

This time when he grabbed his keys, he forced himself to move with enough deliberation that the shaking of his hands only made the key rattle in the doorway, not going so far as to fall to the floor again.

He pushed the door open, locked it behind him and toed off his shoes, aligning them by force of habit rather than any real desire to keep the entrance neat. 

He called out a hesitant ‘I’m home,’ but even before the words had left his mouth, he knew it was useless. His mom’s shoes weren’t there, and her house slippers were. She wore those everywhere, except into bed, and even then they were by her bedside for when she woke up. Izuku put on his own and went to his room to get his suit off and get into something that he didn’t mind getting dirty. They might have kept a pretty clean house, but Izuku did deep cleans when he was stressed, and no bit of grime was going to escape him, not in the mood he was in right now. 

Izuku stripped out of his suit, and put on his cleaning clothes, covering his hair with a kerchief. It would have to pull double duty on preventing too much dirt from getting ground in his hair and stopping the mass of curls from going into his eyes. After hanging up his suit properly, he picked up all of his dirty clothes, and after dumping them in the hamper, he picked up the strewn about pencils and notebooks, placing them in the correct places.

Dragging his hamper to the bathroom, he then laid a perfunctory knock at his mom’s door - again, habit, he knew very well that she wasn’t there - and went in to get her laundry as well. 

Her room was dark, with all of the blinds down and cold, like she hadn’t been there in a while. Her bed was made, and her bedside table was layered in a thin coating of dust. Izuku clenched his jaw, gathered the laundry, and left. 

He ran the washer, and walked around the rest of the house, making sure to pick up and put away everything he came across. Then he lugged out the vacuum, and started it up, making a mental note to pick up more vacuum bags when they went shopping - there was only one left. He went through the house, doing the floors and the un-washable fabrics like the couch and the armchair. After the vacuuming was done and he had wrestled the machine back into the closet, he went into the kitchen and started to clean out the fridge and freezer.

Whatever looked frostbitten or moldy got tossed, everything else got put on the counter until Izuku could scrub the interior clean. As he did, he thought about what was left with a grimace. Not a whole lot, not really. Usually his mom drove to do a big shop, though Izuku thought he could try and rent a driverless car on the way back home so he could carry a big load by himself. He’d been given an advance on his first paycheck, so he was sure he had the money, but beyond the occasional run for soy sauce or sesame oil or a packet of curry, Izuku hadn’t done shopping like that by himself. He knew how , but it had always been something he and his mom did together. The idea of doing it without her made him hurt even worse than he already felt with his fear and worry and anger swirling around inside him. 

Izuku finished with the fridge and put the food back in their appropriate places, letting the dirty water swirl down the sink as he tried to figure out what to do next. He was so tired. So worried. So sick of not being able to solve what the real problems of the world were.

He sighed and looked around the kitchen. When was the last time that the cupboards had had a good scrubbing? He should probably get to that.

With the house finally clean, and the lighter laundry drying on the balcony, the heavier items in the dryer, Izuku paced. He knew he should probably do something productive - like figure out what he was teaching his students next week and reconcile the email that Nedzu had sent him with his lesson plans, but he couldn’t fathom the idea of sitting down and actually getting anything done.

He checked his phone again. Nothing. He wanted to scream. 

His breath was starting to come faster, harder, but although the logical, calm, intellectual part of his mind was telling him he should start square breathing until he calmed down, to find one of his weighted blankets or even the All Might plush he still kept by his bedside, the rest of his mind was panicking, overwhelming any higher thought processes. He clutched his arms around his stomach, hugging himself in a meagre attempt to hold himself together, to stop himself from breaking apart. It was no use. Still taking deep, heaving gasps, Izuku crumpled to the living room floor, sobbing and just let the tears and fear and anger consume him.

He didn’t know how long he had lain there crying, but the sky was darker, the light coming in through the windows dim. He sat up and wiped his face, grimacing at the snot and tears. He patted around his hips for his typical handkerchief, but these pants didn’t even have pockets. He sighed, and got up to at least get some tissues. He felt… better, but worse at the same time. Clean, but also empty. Cleansed, scraped out, and hollow. His eyes still itched and burned, his nose and throat still sore.

But he could think clearly again. He wiped his face clean, then washed it properly. Stared into the mirror.

His eyes were swollen and puffy, red rims making the green of his irises stand out vividly. His nose was similarly red, and only the thorough washing had eliminated the tear tracks from his skin. He braced his hands on the sink and just breathed .

He felt drained and tired, but today wasn’t over. He got himself a glass of water and chugged it, not realizing that he had been so thirsty. He poured himself another and made himself drink from it slowly this time. He took a coaster from the coffee table drawer in front of the couch and put his glass on it, then slumped down on the couch. He still didn’t know what to do. He needed more information. 

He stood up and paced for a moment thinking. What did he do when he needed more information? Well, he got the information he needed, by any means necessary. It was time to do some digging.

His mom had a job as a legal secretary, working for a larger corporation. It was not the best fit for her; Inko had confessed that she had wanted to become a nurse, and Izuku could see it. His mom liked to care for others, and a career like that, though hard and challenging, would suit her. When asked why she hadn’t taken the steps to enter that career - she had only attended a year and a half of university - she had just smiled, patted his hand, and told him that she would tell him when he was older.

She had still not told him outright, but now that he was older, he suspected that she had met his father around then, and become pregnant with him, making the decision to drop out of school in order to carry him to term and marry his father. 

She had insisted on keeping her maiden name, the only thing she had left from her family. Midoriya. He bore the name too. His father’s family name escaped him, but he remembered it hadn’t been the same. Hisashi was his first name, meaning ‘a long time ago.’ When Izuku was just a child, he had thought that maybe it was a call back to the quirkless, like Hisashi was named after Izuku somehow. That Izuku wasn’t bad or useless or broken, just a memory of a different time.

Izuku smiled, bittersweet. His memories of the man weren’t bad, the few he had. It was the aftermath that had bled him to the core.

After Inko had essentially become a single parent, Izuku wasn’t surprised that she hadn’t pursued a career that she would actually enjoy, instead getting a position as an intern, managing to land a job as a secretary, and then after figuring out tips and tricks on her own, then going to night school, managed to become a legal secretary at a law firm. Izuku remembered those nights that she couldn’t be home, when he had stayed with Ka-Bakugou and his family. 

As a legal secretary, she had almost no clout, and Izuku had the feeling that the fully fledged lawyers often ran roughshod over her, leaving her to do the dirty work, and claiming all of her hard won efforts were things they had collected themselves. Of course, if there was a mistake, ‘it was all that lousy secretary’s fault, how did she ever manage to get in that position.’ 

The company was called At Large, and Izuku cracked his fingers, and entered the name into the search bar, pulling up the website when he was given the results. Izuku sped read through the whole thing, noticing that it had been recently updated. The three lawyers that made up the body of the firm, four younger associates that had joined within the last five years but hadn’t made a partnership, and the legal secretaries were all on the ‘about us’ section.

Izuku scrolled down. The website helpfully had a picture, their name, their quirk name, the type of law they typically practised, and a small blurb about them. 

He got to the end of the list and frowned. Dragged the side bar up to the top and went through the legal secretaries again.

His eyes darted down to the bottom of the page, where it showed the update date. It was marked only two days ago. Weird to update your website around closing on a Thursday, Izuku thought. 

His mom wasn’t listed. She’d been overworked recently. Stressed. Tired. The website was - very - recently updated.

Izuku ground his teeth. Had… she been fired? She’d been working for that company for something like seven, maybe eight years now! His mind raced, spinning through ideas one by one and discarding them.

The website had been listed by seniority; his mom should have rightfully been the second or third one on the list. It had either never been added - a strange oversight that Izuku couldn’t really see happening - or had accidentally been deleted - but again, not something that Izuku could clearly or easily reconcile.

It could be something else, it could… it could be several things.

But work asking her to stay late, and keeping her overnight? It wouldn’t surprise him if they were wringing every last drop of use out of her before they fired her. Wait…

Izuku spun back to his computer. Obviously there wasn't anything that he needed on the public side of the website. Any files on personnel he needed would be under lock and key, safely stored in the server.

Like that would stop someone trained by Nedzu. 

His fingers flashed as he typed commands that the computer and website were helpless to do anything but follow, as he bypassed the password and accessed the files he was looking for. The files that showed the signed contracts for legal secretaries. 

He skimmed the files, not too interested in the minutiae of their duties or expectations. What he was interested in was the pay, the benefits, and how those changed after time at the workplace. 

He zeroed in on that area. The annual pay and the pay ladder. Low, but not entirely unreasonable. The benefits. Shoddy, but acceptable. 

And the caveat that they’d switch to the more lucrative pay ladder after seven years. Part of Izuku wondered why seven as opposed to five or ten, the numbers that humans seem to like best, but the majority of him wanted to spit in rage. 

If they had fired her - and Izuku had little doubt, there was no other explanation that fit so well - they had done so for a pay cut.

Even angrier now, Izuku went deeper into the server that the website was hosted on. Most people didn’t really think too much about the safety of information hosted in computers or online - they’re far more aware of people being able to use disguises or brainwashing, or take the information in some other way.

But hacking? It was considered beneath people - unless of course you had a quirk that involved it.

(Again, it made Izuku think of the way their society worked. There was no point in trying if you didn’t have a quirk, because you would never be as good as someone quirked in that way. That was why quirkless people were considered so absolutely useless - people with quirks saw that they would never be as good at what they weren’t quirked at as someone that was, and decided to give up - so of course the quirkless would do the exact same thing. It made them weak, and lazy, unwilling to train anything but their quirk even if they were to become heroes. Look at Kamakiri - tall and willowy, and with a powerful, dangerous quirk - but wouldn’t know how to fight if he was suddenly unable to create his blades. Probably didn't know a lot of hand-to-hand combat, even if it would transfer seamlessly to making his quirk work for him. Wouldn’t know how to sharpen or take care of knives because he would just make new ones, wouldn’t he? No interest or inclination in anything besides what you could use your quirk for. The social pressure to view yourself by your quirk and solely that. It made Izuku sick .)

But Izuku wasn’t beneath a skill that let him access the information he needed and craved, and sneaking his way past the nearly laughable firewall, Izuku quickly gained access to all of the files that he would ever need.

He looked through the newest ones first, looking back through spreadsheets of finances and meeting notes and slideshows, and hit upon gold.

Notes, laid out in clear black and white from a meeting held with the three lawyers and two of the associates. Notes that indicated that they were looking for someone new. That someone ought to go on the chopping block. That someone had started to ask questions. That, yes, they were a good secretary. A little too good. And that well, the changing of the contract was starting to come up, wasn’t it? Why not kill two birds with one stone, hire a new person that wouldn’t expect as much money and would be prettier on the eyes, get rid of the far too good legal secretary that asked too many questions and went away with more information than they had meant to spill. 

Izuku opened up the financial statement. Looked at the numbers and let the calculations buzz through his head as he scanned the document and found evidence of the budget being skimmed by those who had deep pockets and few scruples. 

Izuku closed the documents and slid out of the server, erasing his tracks as he went. No need to leave a trail even though few people looked for one nowadays. Better to keep in the habit, and besides, there was no need to be messy about it.

He felt sick. 

What the law firm was doing was wrong, there was no doubt, but what they were doing was perfectly legal. All they had to do was cite ‘interpersonal conflict’ on her papers and his mom would be out of a job. 

He shut down his computer and let his hands curl into fists. If she was being fired, he knew that the bastards would probably do it at the end of the day, only giving her a few minutes to collect her things in complete shock before they kicked her out. He checked his phone. It was just past four. He had work to do, and thankfully, time to do it in.

Chapter Text

The house being already cleaned and put together properly made his job a lot easier. He re-checked the fridge and freezer, this time with his mother’s favourite foods in mind - and saw only a single can of sweet milk coffee that she favoured and none of her usual snacks or treats that she liked to indulge in on rough days. 

He emptied out the dryer and folded and put away the heavier items that had been in it, making room for her favourite comfort blanket. Then he stripped the sheets off her bed, and put on new sheets and pillow cases. Leaving the door to her room open this time so that at least some heat and light would come into the room, he put the old sheets into the bathroom hamper, and stowed her blanket in the dryer so he could turn it on half an hour before she would typically get home so it would be warm and cozy by the time she got back.

Then he grabbed his keys and his wallet, slipped on his shoes and was out the door to pick up some things for Inko instead of himself this time.

In the years that they had lived together with really only themselves for company, Izuku had found it easy to catalogue what his mom liked and preferred. Black coffee most mornings, and almost always Japanese style breakfasts over Western ones. But when she was feeling rough and tired, emotional or just physically exhausted, or for a special occasions, she went for sugary, milky drinks, western styled foods like pizza and fried chicken, and what she fondly referred to as crap food as a way to help perk her back up.

She had told him once that when she was young, her family was very strictly Japanese, disliking junk food, western cuisine, breads, or processed goods. ‘If it was good enough for my parents and my parents’ parents, it’s good enough for me,’ her father used to tell her.

It wasn’t until college when she really had the opportunity to eat out and try different foods, and as she told him, that while she liked the structure and routine of traditional Japanese foods which she knew how to make and season, eating foods that didn’t fit within that menu always made her remember how it felt to be free and surrounded by joy and laughter and friends.

So Izuku got her favourites and enough food for a traditional meal tomorrow morning for the both of them. A taste of comfort in that of freedom and happiness, and a meal for the quiet, traditional side of her that had become a touchstone in her daily life for tomorrow.

When he got home, he took off his shoes and took the time to neaten the genkan, knowing that if anything looked off or in disarray, it could make things worse for her, and despite the childish anger driven by worry still swirling around somewhere deep inside, that was the last thing he wanted.

So he took the time to keep things neat and orderly like how she would expect after coming home after a long, hard day - two days really, Izuku realized. He didn’t think she had been home, only at work and the thought made him want to break something. He had seen how tired she was, how much her job was working her to the bone. And now to be forced for what must be closer to five or six full time shifts in the span of two days with likely little rest or food or comfort, expected to show only a calm face and pristine clothing and being as professional as possible while all the while those in the know laughed behind their hands… Izuku breathed in and out, and relaxed his grip on the bag. His hands wanted to curl into fists and he was tempted to let them but… displays of anger would get him nowhere right now. He padded into the kitchen and set the bag down softly, pulling out the sweets and treats as well as the good wholesome food that would serve them well for breakfast tomorrow, and put them away properly, leaving out only a small bowl that he filled with individually wrapped candies that his mom loved.

Izuku dug out the diffuser that she had had put away and dropped in some of the oils that she had lying around; vanilla, maple and cinnamon together. With any luck, the scents would warm and comfort her, make the house a place that she could feel soothed and safe and calm.

Izuku looked around. Other than the dryer that he would need to put on in a bit, he didn’t think there was much else that he could do to make the place somewhere that she would feel okay.

He sighed and went to his room and collected a notebook and pen, hoping to make at least some progress with his lesson plans for next week, even though he knew that the likelihood of him being able to concentrate on that was slim to none.

Regardless, he bent his head and got to work.

True to how he had thought, his sketchbook was only filled with doodles and half written sentences that he gave up on almost immediately after writing the first couple of kanji out. Then the dryer clicked off, and Izuku snapped up, ears sharp and aware for any other sign or sound. He was not disappointed. Less than thirty seconds later, he heard the key in the lock and slammed to his feet, and then just as quickly fell back on the couch. How was he to play this? To pretend to not be expecting anything was disingenuous, to immediately go and comfort her was awkward and the hallway was a bad place for that anyway, and… what if he was wrong?

His heart stuttered in his chest at the thought, his ever present anxiety rearing up and stifling his attempts to stay calm. 

He didn’t think he was wrong, but he didn’t have an analyst quirk, he wasn’t a mind-reader, and he didn’t know for sure. He never did. He was told that he needed to trust his instincts on these sorts of things, but what if he was wrong? What if it was something else entirely?

But the weary, thick sounding ‘tadaima’ made him answer back with the response almost as a knee-jerk reaction. She stepped tiredly through the hallway entrance, clutching a large box as well as her own purse. Tear tracks were evident, and so was the pallor of her skin.

Izuku forgot his own fears and worries. He stood and went to her, taking the box - and wow that was heavy - and set it on the floor before enveloping her in a hug, as soft and warm and comforting as he knew how to make it.

He felt her hitch in a sob and the press of her face to his shoulder. He let his hand rub up and down her back and let her cry.

The Midoriyas were criers, each and every one of them. Izuku had cried earlier, and now it was Inko’s turn. They stood together, one offering comfort and the other taking what was offered as tears flowed raggedly.

When he felt her stepping away he let his arms fall, looking carefully at her. She looked, quite simply, wrecked. Pale, with reddening eyes and nose, tears still flowing, and almost shaking.

“Sit down,” he told her quietly. “I’ll be right back, okay?”

She stepped shakily towards the couch and let herself collapse into it.

Izuku first went to the bathroom and took a box of tissues and the now dryer-warm blanket and carted them out, dropping the tissues beside her before flicking the blanket so it fell smoothly over her. Then to the fridge where he took a bottle of water and brought it back to her, picking up the box of tissues before sitting next to her and leaning against her, proffering the water which she took with a shaky hand and an even shakier smile. She sipped from it gingerly, still sniffling. Izuku passed her the tissues and she blew her nose and mopped at her face. 

“So you knew.”

Izuku winced but shook his head. His mother was one of the only people that he could never really hide his thought processes from. “I only figured it out - or I thought I did - a few hours ago.” He looked at her through his lashes, his head bowed. “I didn’t know what else to do.”

“Oh, Izuku.” A sigh slipped out and Izuku looked up, startled. She opened up the blanket, inviting him to curl up with her under its warmth. “This was never something you had to do.” When he flinched at that, she found his hand and gave it a light squeeze. “No, no, honey, I don’t mean it however you’re thinking. This,” she waved her hand to indicate everything “isn’t your responsibility. And what would you have told me, even if I had had my phone with me?. “Mom they’re going to fire you, just a heads up, okay bye’?” she questioned. Izuku snorted a little. 

“Anything you’ve done - everything you’ve done” she added, “is more than enough. Never think that it isn’t.”

That being said, they let each other offer and take comfort in equal terms until Inko’s tears had dried. Izuku was so cried out that his eyes had only offered up the slightest bit of moisture.

By the time that Inko got up to get herself some food and laughed in delight at the snacks and treats that Izuku had bought, and Izuku himself broke into the stash for himself he had purchased that morning, they were both calm and able to talk.

“Can you tell me what happened?” Izuku asked quietly, picking at the side of his bottle cap. Inko sighed. “Tell me what you noticed first,” she requested. “You’ve noticed some things for a while, haven’t you?”

“Yeah,” Izuku admitted, leaning on her. “And what little things I noticed just… it became that much more every time I thought about it, just little things, but you know how things go with my head. They pile up, until it becomes this huge mountain of all the little things.” He took a breath. “I really noticed on Wednesday. You looked so tired.” He brushed a thumb along her cheekbone. “Your skin looked dry, and just how you were walking and acting… But I think it’s been going on for a while, hasn’t it?” 

She nodded.

“And then the little things like you going into work earlier and coming home late. Your shoes being askew. Not doing all the little things at home that make you happy. The groceries being low and weren’t talked about. Stuff like that.” He took another breath, this one deeper. “And then I woke up this morning and you weren’t home. And I hadn’t heard from you. And I just knew. That something was wrong.” He shook his head. “But I had to go in to work again today, so I did, but when I got home, you still weren’t home, and there was nothing.” His fists clenched. “Mom, I was… I was just so worried . And I was so angry about it.” He let his eyes fall closed, his shoulders hunching in. “and I decided I had to figure it out.” He sniffed again, stealing a tissue from the box. “So I thought about the most likely things that would be affecting you. That you might have been sick, or work was treating you badly, or that there was something else you were keeping from me. But if you were sick I think you would have told me, or at least taken out the masks we have. So I looked up your work, trying to get a feeling for what it could be. And I saw that you were no longer on the employee list.”

He chanced a glance up at her, but her face was still calm, so he continued. 

“And I thought that it was strange for that to be; they had a section for legal secretaries, and I knew you had been up there; I remember - you, you wrote up a blurb for that, right?”

“Right.”

He twisted his fingers together. “So then I did some digging. And they’d been planning on firing you for months .”

His mom let out a sigh. She smiled ruefully down at him and stroked his hair. “I can’t say that I’m all that shocked,” she told him, surprisingly even. “I started looking deeper into the cases a few months back. And I was due for a salary bump.”

“The company wasn’t… corrupt necessarily. That’s not the right word,” Inko said. “But it wasn’t right. A bunch of little things. The lawyers and partners liked to come out on top, of course they did, but they seemed…” She bit her lip. “They seemed to go the extra mile to ensure that they got their way. They didn’t look into things as deeply as they should.“ She shook her head briskly. “At Large was supposed to be a public defender’s office. A firm for the people. They were supposed to hold heroes and police to the letter of the law. But the things I saw… I know the hero commission has their fingers in enough pies. And heroes would stop by to have ‘little chats.’ Collusion is probably a strong word, but with all of those things together… It should never have been borne.”

Izuku pressed against her. “I really can’t say I’m surprised. I did some digging and I found their notes and budget, and part of the reason they wanted to fire you was because of the salary increase in your contract, but also because yeah, they figured out you were poking around. The questions you were asking. They thought you were picking up more information than they wanted you to. But also because they were hoping to siphon off the excess in the budget that firing you came up with because the firm’s been doing well lately, able to keep paying you and paying you the extra, and hire another legal secretary. So I think they want to embezzle parts of it, but I didn’t take anything as proof. I wanted to find out what you would want to do; wanted to find out if this is was actually going on.”

Inko sniffed back another wave of tears. She, like Izuku, was tired of crying. “I can’t do anything about it now,” she said grimly. “It’s done.” she looked down at Izuku. “I don’t know if I got enough information to prove anything. And I won’t ask you to get anything yourself; don’t do anything illegal for me,” she continued, when he sat up to protest. “No, Izuku,” she said softly. “You’ve done too much for me already, and I know that your mentors have trained you well, but I won’t have you risk anything for me.”

He turned to look at her head on. “How can you say that I’ve done too much for you?” he demanded. 

She made a wide sweeping gesture to indicate the food, the blanket, the tissues and the clean house that only ever got that clean when one of them was on the tail end of grief or anger. She sputtered out a laugh. “Izuku, look around you. What haven’t you done for me?”

He flung his hand out too. “This is nothing,” he exclaimed. “I could be doing so much more, but I don’t know how .” He clenched his hands into fists, hiding them in his lap.

“Izuku. You don’t have to do anything. You’re my son. I’m supposed to support you. And you don’t need to worry,” she added, running a hand over his hair. “I have enough saved by; the mortgage and food and heat aren’t a problem.”

Izuku deflated. “Okay,” he murmured, letting himself sink against her again. “I won’t worry.”

He really wasn’t worried either. If he was doing the math right, his monthly paycheck would cover the mortgage and food and utilities, and still leave plenty left over. And right now, with them both too tired and emotional and overwhelmed, he wouldn’t go into it. But he closed his eyes and enjoyed the company and easy talk that flowed over them for the moment, knowing that someday soon, he could make all of these problems disappear. He would make enough that his mom would never have to worry again.

By the time they went to bed, emotions dragging their energy levels down even as the processed sugars and caffeine tried vainly to perk them back up, it was late at the night. But tomorrow was tomorrow, and they knew that it would look far better than today.

Sunday dawned bright and clear, no signs of rain. Izuku stretched and then let his body fall back onto the bed without a care, not wanting to get up quite yet. Even a few minutes more felt so decadent.

And he enjoyed those last minutes before rolling reluctantly out of bed and onto the floor, starting his weekend exercises, then pulling on socks and tying on shoes to go for a run. It was chilly, but not too cold, spring finally coming into full force. He enjoyed the brisk press of wind and the gentle warming of the sun overhead. 

His breathing remained slow and steady through the warm up, so he kicked it into a higher gear to get his lungs and heart to really start working, knowing that the more effort he put into training, the higher dividends he’d receive. 

And he did. He used to be a weedy, skinny kid, and while he’d by no means call himself buff, he had definitely filled out in the past year, even growing a couple of inches from where he’d been in his last year of middle school. He wasn’t tall either, but knowing his dad wasn’t much taller than average, and realizing how short his mom was, it wasn’t likely he’d get a whole lot taller - though he had a few years left to reach his full height potential, he wasn’t going to hold his breath.

But no longer was there the concave belly and weak, noodly arms whose only muscle was in the wrists from taking copious notes. He wasn’t buff, wasn’t ripped, but he had lean muscle that was far more useful than any gym-bound muscle-head’s, muscle that let him run and work and carry and lift without compromising his speed or agility or flexibility. 

He felt healthier than he had in a long time. He moved easier, could lift more, was stronger and more confident in himself.

Even if the exercise felt like a drag, Izuku mused as he unlocked the front door and got a clean set of clothes, it was worth it.

A shower was both necessary and welcome. Izuku let the warmth of the water soothe his body and his mind as he methodically got clean. Today he was totally free, unlike the suddenly full and stressful day yesterday. And it looked like if he wanted to get his students help, he’d have to give up his Saturdays. He… wasn’t sure how he felt about that. He too had grown up with Saturdays as schooldays, with Sundays the only respite, but he had been looking forward to having two days to rest and plan and engage himself in activities and hobbies outside of the school day. Then he shook his head in irritation, turning the water off with a sharp twist. He was being greedy. He had truly, only half-days unless he wanted them otherwise, though that reminded him - he really needed to reformulate his plans with the new set up that Nedzu had promised. He wondered what his new office would look like…

His mom was just leaving her room when he had started up the kettle for tea. The food he had bought the day before for today was cooking now - white rice, tofu miso soup, broiled fish, rolled omelet, and pickled goods that his mom particularly enjoyed. It was all easy and nearly mindless, the bubbling of the soup, the steaming of the rice cooker, the sizzling of the fish and egg, and the rising smell of homey, well-made food. Easily, Izuku went between the different dishes, stirring here, seasoning there, making sure the broiler was not too hot.

By the time the rice cooker beeped, Izuku had already laid out the rest of the food, with chopsticks and tall handleless mugs of green tea already properly steeped. His mom came out to join him while he scooped rice. 

“Izuku,” she sighed, wrapping an arm around his shoulders. “You needn’t have done it.” 

He smirked. “Who said any of it is for you? Maybe I was just really hungry?”

She rolled her eyes and sat down at her seat, smacking at the table with an impatient, imperial air. “Alright, chop chop boy, where is my food?”

“So sorry mistress,” Izuku told her joking, kowtowing as he came over with the food. “Right away mistress.”

“You should be sorry,” Inko sniffed, nose held haughtily aloft. Then she broke into a grin and Izuku sat himself across from her. After a quick thanks, they both dug in. Izuku savoured the first taste of food. Not up to Lunch Rush’s standards maybe, but still delicious. He sighed in happiness at the first bite of properly hot food.

Speaking of food… “Mom, we’re going to need to go shopping,” Izuku pointed out. “Like we need staples - rice, sauces, flour.”

Inko nodded, her mouth full. Swallowing, she added, “no, I know we do. The last few months have been rough. Too tired when I came home, coming late, going early.” She shook herself all over, and shoved more food in her mouth. Whether that was because she was extraordinarily hungry or because she wanted to change the subject, Izuku wasn’t sure, but he thought it might be the latter, if the sudden sheen to her eyes was what he thought it was.

“And of course, the other necessities,” Izuku continued on. “Wagyu beef, caviar, ice cream, square melons, the list goes on.”

Inko nodded decidedly. “Of course, let’s not forget roman grapes, or fugu either.”

Their list of ‘necessities’ became even more outlandish and unlikely as they ate, grinning at each other. Soon, the list became not just food but also clothing, furnishings, decorations, paintings and sculptures from museums, etc. The normal things to add to a shopping list.

After the dishes were done and the left-over rice and miso stored away for another meal, Inko put on a jacket and fetched her purse while Izuku threw on a sweater and slipped his wallet in his pocket. 

They put on their shoes together, and took off at a sedate pace to the grocery they both frequented. 

“You know mom,” Izuku started, still not sure if now was an okay time to be bringing this up, but figuring now was better than too much later. “I’m going to make enough with this job that we really don’t need to worry.” He cast a sidelong glance at her. Her face was set, and while not angry, she didn’t look pleased either. Not that he had really expected her to be. No one liked to feel like they were incapable of pulling their weight. But it was normal for kids to look after their parents, right? He was just starting a little earlier than most.

“Izuku.” Her voice was calm and steady. Neutral. “You don’t need to. I am your mother, and you are still in my care. It’s your money.”

“But mom, if it’s my money, can’t I choose how to spend it? If I want to use it to help support us-”

“Izuku, that isn’t your job.”

“But why not? I’m meant to be looking after you, aren’t I?”

“What?” She let out a startled laugh. “Izuku, no, no one’s meant to be doing that. Yes, when I’m older and retired, yes it’s considered kind and good to look after your parents. But you’re fifteen . I know you have a job, and yes, I’ve seen the contract that you signed,” she cut him off, knowing his next argument before he had even finished opening his mouth. “I know you have enough. But it’s my job to look after you , not the other way around.” She fixed him with a warning look. “I’ll be finding another job.” She sniffed. “I was a good legal secretary, and I shouldn’t have too much of a problem.”

“But… mom, you don’t have to. You can take your time, decide what you want to do - even go back to school if you want, take up a hobby, volunteer! You can do whatever you want. I have the money mom, I want to take care of you.”

“You should be using your money to save up for your future.”

“Save up for what future?” He shook his head. “No, I don’t mean it like it just sounded. But… What am I saving up for? College? I already have a degree - I have a job, and from how Principal Nedzu talks, I’m not going to be let go any time soon. And with UA on my resume? I don’t think I’d have a problem finding something new either. A house? Maybe, but if I’ve done the math right, and I think I have, I can pay for the mortgage and still save up for a place of my own one day. Unless you’re planning on kicking me out within the next two years.” He looked straight back at his mom, holding his ground.

She shook her head. “You’re far too stubborn for your own good,” she sighed. “I’m not saying yes,” she warned, pointing a finger at him. “But I’ll think about it.” She brushed her bangs out of her eyes. “And no, Izuku,” she said, slightly fonder. “No plans to kick you out.”

“That’s good,” Izuku said, pulling out a cart from the selection outside the grocery store. “It would be kind of awkward paying for the mortgage on a place I don’t even live in anymore.” Then he raced into the store where Inko couldn’t retaliate with words or actions too easily. He had to make it a little difficult sometimes. He was her kid. It was practically contractually obliged.

Unlike their conversation had indicated, they did not pick up wagyu beef, cube watermelons, or roman grapes. Ice cream, however, they did get, as well as rice, milk, eggs, vegetables, flour, and plain bread for when Izuku wanted a western breakfast rather than a traditional Japanese one. He even remembered the vacuum bags he had noticed they were low on.

Izuku didn’t make a move to pay, standing carefully back and helping bag their groceries, only pulling out his phone to summon a driverless car. Much cheaper than taxis, they were only on the streets after they were summoned to be. Like the Uber of the pre-quirk world, the driverless cars were fully automated, and widely safe. Many people never drove anymore, relying on drivers, public transportation, and cars like these to take them where they needed to go. With the groceries they were getting, Izuku felt that even the walk back to his place would be annoying at best and actively difficult at worst with everything they would have to carry. It was better to get a car for their groceries if they could help it. And if he was careful, he could sneak the car its payment before his mom noticed.

Satisfied with this plan, Izuku generously let his mom pay for the groceries, and took the laden cart to the waiting car.

Unfortunately, his mom was sneakier still, waiting until he was distracted with unloading the trunk to direct the car to send the bill to her account. Well. He had to have learned it from somewhere, right?

Groceries away, and Inko relaxing with her feet up, a mug of tea, some of yesterday’s leftover comfort food, and one of the dramas she liked, Izuku left her to it and retreated back to his own room to figure out next week’s lesson plans.

He kept his sweater on once he got to his room, and booted up his computer. Time to look again at Nedzu’s emails. 

He pulled up the first that had sent him out yesterday. Class A with Aizawa in Gym Delta, Gym Epsilon hosting Class B with Kan. Directly after lunch for three hours on most Saturdays, though it was always subject to change. Next Saturday would see both classes going to the Unforeseen Simulation Joint, run by Thirteen. Izuku was honestly excited for this - both for himself and his class. So few heroes really thought about the rescue potential of their quirks unless that was the only thing they could think of with their quirk. His students could definitely stand to learn more about their heroic potential in ways that didn’t involve direct combat. As he had heard Thirteen say once, quirks can kill, but I want to show you how they can save.

In other news, seeing how the two hero classes would interact should prove to be interesting. Aizawa seemed more laissez-faire with his class; throwing them into situations and then ducking out to let them duke it out however they pleased, though Izuku was fairly sure he kept an eye on them. The eagle eyed gaze from yesterday belied any other possibility.

Kan seemed to take a more… guiding approach. Instead of throwing his students at a problem, he showed them, walked them through what they should do, then let them at it. Izuku personally thought that such different styles of teaching should be matched to the student, but that didn’s seem to be the case. Some of Aizawa’s students could have benefited from Kan’s gentler approach, Kouda specifically. Not only would it suited his personality more, Kouda and Kan were both similar in form - both large, and tall, with scary mutations, and Izuku felt that Kouda seeing someone so similar acting as a teacher and hero would have eased Kouda’s worries. Too, some of Kan’s students would have liked Aizawa’s ‘toss them into the deep end and let them figure it out’ style better than Kan’s guidance. 

Izuku learned better with patient instructions and explanations; especially for first years, he felt that style helped ease uncertainty and fears, giving students a better foundation for later on. On the other hand, Aizawa’s methodology taught his students to react , which Izuku had to admit, were hallmarks of both Endeavor (as much as he didn’t like him) and Hawks, who was by all accounts, a much loved hero. 

Only time would tell, Izuku thought, idly penciling notes down as he went over the different methodologies. 

Besides the different styles that the students would be used to, there were the potentially clashing personalities. Monoma in particular was a bit of a wildcard. He liked provoking people, riling them up, and he had no compunctions with what he said, did, or implied to get a reaction. Kamakiri of class B was also aggressive, and had already occasionally shown that he had no patience for the gentler members of his class; Shiozaki with her insistence on inserting her religion even when it bore no relation to what they were learning. Tsunotori with her unease with Japanese; how Shishida felt uneasy with his quirk, fear that he was useless in his regular form, and the reluctance to use his ‘stupider,’ ‘mentally-slower,’ half. 

And then there was Class A. Bakugou stood out, easily as the most volatile and rude person. Kaminari with his flirtatious personality would likely try to get to know the other girls. Whether Tokoyami would get along with Kuroiro or would snub him for their similar dedication to darkness, Izuku didn’t know.

At least Mineta was gone.

However the two classes would interact would remain to be seen, but Izuku wouldn’t miss it for the world.

Although… Izuku checked back over the email.

Their first meeting wouldn’t be next Saturday, but Wednesday. They’d have an extra long training session with Izuku and their two homeroom teachers. Izuku nibbled at his lip. At least they’d probably be able to get the worst of their tempers and unease out before Saturday? And since Izuku was betting Aizawa would spring the trip on his students, at least it would only be the trip that would be the major surprise, not all of the additional class members.

And he had access to Gym Theta now too. Izuku idly stretched out his back and arms as he thought, rotating his neck gently. He’d have them in there this next week. Monday for one class, Tuesday for the other, he decided. He’d have to see how tired the students looked during lunch on Monday and have Monday be the training for the less tired ones. Hopefully it would work out. The one lecture over two days as well, with Wednesday not being a lecture day either, so he’d only have to think of three lecture topics for this week, which cheered him up immensely. As much as he loved imparting knowledge, the lecture styled ones weren’t always the best, especially when that was already the way the majority of their school instruction was placed. 

As the final topic that he had to pay attention to, he would have an office. And he had to come up with something for the other teachers to tell their students. He furrowed his brow. Something short, to the point, and made the students actually want to see what the fuss was actually about.

He pulled his notebook closer, tapping it gently against his paper. 

Office hours for quirk counseling and analysis services are now available to all first year students. Please come see Midoriya Izuku at  - he paused. He didn’t know the place his office was. He logged onto his email on the computer and typed out a quick message to Nedzu, asking him for the details. It wasn’t a big hurry - homeroom was every day, and there wasn't anything saying that he had to get the blurb to the teachers for Monday. Nedzu could take his time.

Anyway. Please come see Midoriya Izuku at __________ to discuss your quirk with a trained professional. By appointment and walk-in; appointments take precedence. 

There. Short, to the point, and hopefully something that would pique students’ interest.

He’d obviously have to go back over it, but for now, it was time to think about what he should actually be teaching the kids come Monday.

Last week it had been introductions, then heroes. Villains, then understanding analysis, and finally, balance.

In the balance lecture, he had mentioned teams, namely the Wild Wild Pussycats, but he hadn’t really gone into teamwork.

A smile stole over his lips. What better lecture to give his students when they’d suddenly be thrown in with twenty more heroic hopefuls than they were used to?

Teamwork. His grin still firmly in place, he bent over his notebook and started to write.

His plan done for now, and a slightly updated version of what he wanted the other teachers to tell their students about his office hours (though he’d think about it more tomorrow after he’d seen his new office space), Izuku finally emerged from his room, blinking a bit at the hallway light. It had grown dim if not fully dark outside, and neglecting to turn on his own light, he was a little blinded by the glow.

“Get some work done?” His mom asked easily from her place on the couch. She had her knitting out and was working on what looked like a mass of threads. He didn’t know how she managed to transform string into warm, wearable items and blankets, and judging from the knotted disaster last time she tried to teach him, he wouldn’t understand how she did it anytime soon. 

“Yeah, I’m all set for the next few days,” he told her, stealing into the kitchen to make himself something hot to drink and to snitch a few of the leftover treats for himself. “Teamwork first. They’re going to be thrown together with the other hero class at the same time on Wednesday, and I figured it was better to give them a teamwork lecture before they got thrown together. Not to mention, one of the homeroom teachers likes to just throw his class into a problem and tell them how they could have done better after the fact.” The kettle whistled and he poured the hot water, stirring the powdered chocolate until his favourite drink was well mixed. “Doesn’t help that Katsuki’s in that class,” he added, taking a sip of his drink.

“Katsuki-kun is?” Inko looked up. “Mitsuki did say that he’d gotten in; she was so proud. Happy too,” she added, touching her hand to her cheek in thought - much like Asui did, Izuku noted with a smile. “She said something about him being able to get out all of that energy at school so she didn’t have to keep fixing and replacing the furnishings.” She tsked, shaking her head. “I don’t know how they deal with him. He’s so destructive, often without meaning to.”

“I don’t know about that,” Izuku said dryly. “He’s actually very precise with his quirk, when he cares about what he’s hitting. He’s not careless , he just doesn’t care very much.” He suppressed a shudder. As cool as he had always thought Bakugou’s quirk was as a kid - and as flashy and powerful as he still saw it - he didn’t really like thinking about it. It had hurt him far too many times. 

Far too many times, and was the one thing that he had kept secret, though looking over the rim of his mug, there was something in the way his mom looked down at her stitches, something in the line of her mouth, in how she held her hands.

She knew something, Izuku realized. Maybe not everything, maybe not a lot. But something. 

He didn’t like to keep secrets. But he’d already been keeping this one for more than a decade. It would keep a little longer. He ripped open a packet of strawberry pocky and offered it to her to share. It would keep. He was safe and protected here, by the walls of his home, the quiet background noise of the television, the warmth of family. He took in a slow, calming breath and leant back against the couch, then took another drink of chocolate. Pulled out his phone and let himself just be. Relaxed and warm and safe, surrounded by comfort and family and home.

Chapter Text

The day had dawned bright and warm, only to be quickly covered by low, misty clouds that threatened rain and low visibility. Izuku looked at it askance, hoping that it wasn’t an omen of bad luck.

He wouldn’t call himself really spiritual in any way, certainly nowhere near the devotion that Shiozaki bore, but he knew how to pay attention. Weather changing suddenly and quickly were signs that something wasn’t quite right. That there was something out there that might mean good, or might mean harm.

And with his luck, harm was the more likely of the two.

Regardless, Izuku was already entering UA by the time the first fat drops fell. The threatening rain was no longer a threat but a reality. With a sigh - he had brought an umbrella with him this time after his second glance outside, but he still didn’t like the rain - Izuku hurried under the shelter of the entrance way's overhang. He took a moment to shake his head, making sure that no sneaky bits of water were going to slip down the back of his neck. Then he went inside, and pulling his phone from his pocket, looked over the email that Nedzu had sent.

Your new office can be found opposite 1D. It’s keyed to your thumbprint - don’t let anyone cut off any of your digits now!

Wrinkling his nose at the macabre sense of humor that Nedzu let slip through from time to time, Izuku considered where 1D might be. 

Thankfully, the tour Nedzu had given him and All Might had covered the first two floors where the first and second years were educated. However, the letters weren’t in alphabetical order, but jumbled. So while it might seem like 1-A should go first with 1-K last, that wasn’t so. Whether this was because of Nedzu delighting in ordering classrooms in a way that would baffle everyone, or if this was just an attempt to confuse intruders, Izuku wasn’t sure, but it was still messing him up.

If he was right, 1D wasn’t too far away, and a few minutes later, Izuku smiled when he saw the sign for it. Perfect.

And opposite 1D... Izuku frowned. There was not an room, not a door, but a blank stretch of wall. Izuku cocked his head. Either Nedzu was playing games with him and meant the ‘opposite’ as inverse and Izuku would have to invert the coordinates to actually find it, or…

Izuku stepped forward, letting the sensitive pads of his fingers brush against the smooth eggshell paint, feeling for any discrepancies.

One there… another one. Izuku ran one hand up, and felt a seam on either side. He stepped back and covered his mouth in thought. Typically, most doors had locks just underneath or just to the side of the door handle. Given that this was for an office, it likely had a knob or a handle, not just a handhold to slide the door open. He pressed a hand flat against the wall in the middle of the two seams - in the middle of what he thought to be the door.

“My name is Midoriya Izuku,” he spoke quietly. “Won’t you let me in?”

There was a subtle chime and the whole section of the wall shimmered then seemed to vanish. There was the door. He grinned and pressed his thumb against the subtle divot to the right of the knob. Another chime, and the door swung smoothly open. He stepped inside, and the door shut behind him. He looked at it. Automatic, or maybe some kind of program? Probably a program, Izuku decided. Something simple that could detect his voice, his hand and thumbprint, and how many bodies were passing over the threshold before closing the door.

It was a far larger room than Izuku had expected his office to be, though knowing Nedzu, maybe he shouldn’t have been surprised. As small as he was, the principal did seem to enjoy large amounts of space.

One side had a handsome dark wood desk, with a computer chair behind it, and a fully set up computer on it. Behind the desk as well was a filing cabinet, and as Izuku rounded the desk, he saw an identical paper shredder. With a grin, he opened the first drawer of the cabinet and his eyebrows went up. Either Nedzu had seen fit to cart the entire cabinet from the general office, or he had taken the liberty of copying each and every file.

Izuku hoped that it had just been moved. He’d rather not have copies of his notes lying around, even if it was in coded form. He jiggled the mouse and the screen lit up with a login prominently displayed. He left it as it was for now and surveyed the other half of the room. Three large bean bag chairs, all in different colours, littered that half of the space, with a love seat, several cushions, a traditional reclining couch from pre-quirk therapists, Izuku thought, and two comfortable armchairs. Izuku huffed out a laugh and plopped down on one of the beanbag chairs. It was surprisingly comfortable, but he noted, a tad difficult to get out of gracefully. There was also a basket filled with what Izuku recognized as fidget toys, having owned a couple himself. A low table set with a drawer was against the wall, with a tea service on it - kettle, sticks of instant tea, coffee, and hot chocolate, a carafe that could hold cold water, several cups and little plates, and, Izuku saw, tugging open the drawer, several types of quick snacks and… meal replacement jelly pouches? 

He shrugged. In case a student hadn’t had a lot to eat and needed something filling and fast perhaps? The floor on the ‘counselor’ side of the room was a plush carpet that felt soft to the touch and made Izuku want to take his shoes off, while under the ‘office’ portion, it was softly burnished hardwood that still made it seem warm and welcoming. The walls were painted different colours too; the wall behind his office was a pale lavender, fading to a blue as it swept towards the other half, then brightening to a mint green opposite the purple. The whole room had an ombre effect to it. It felt… soothing, and calm. A good colour for what his office would be used for, and excellent for his own anxiety as well. 

He finally managed to fully extricate himself from the bean bag chair, and poked around his office side. A lower cabinet held his scrap and good journals, and one of the drawers was fully stocked in pencils, erasers, and pens. Izuku grinned. Damn it was nice to have a place of his own at work with everything he would need. He let himself fall into his office chair.

He thought about what Thursday and Friday’s lectures should be like. Today’s and Tuesday were about teamwork, and getting along with others. He half laughed, half winced. Depending on how badly it went, Thursday could also be about that…

But he should probably give his students the benefit of the doubt. 

Maybe something on quirks, something that most of them would find familiar, if more in depth than what they were used to. Japan was not kind to mutant-type quirks, an entire branch of quirks seen as useless, ugly, dangerous, and undesirable. Transformation quirks, the least common of the branches were not well understood, and often, from what he had picked up, felt uncomfortable shoved into that category. Emitters… they were such a broad category. It gave such little information, these categories.

Japan’s system of three branches of quirks had always struck him as a little bit silly. Mutative… okay, he could understand that. People whose bodies were outside the norm. Except that most people had some mutative element at this point. Look at Ashido; she was an emitter type, but her skin was pink, her sclera black, and she had horns. Of all of those in 1-A, she probably stood out the most visually. Had she lacked the acid-producing properties, she would not be considered quirkless, of course, but rather owning a useless mutative quirk. Whatever the ways that they were categorized, Izuku didn’t like it.

How he liked to understand quirks was via activation . Five-finger, conscious, unconscious, triggers, passive. Of course, there were dozens of different types, those were only a few. But maybe it would give his students some insight into how their own quirks, and their fellow students’ could work. Maybe he could even get the classes to try and figure out how they might like to categorize quirks. 

And having just had a lesson with the other class, each of the two would have double the amount of students to try and figure out. So classification and activation of quirks. For Friday though… 

Izuku leaned back in his chair and thought . On the next Saturday, they would be attending Thirteen’s lecture on Rescue and Safety - would he be overstepping to include a lecture on it? But if Thirteen was busy, as they said they would be, wouldn’t it only make the class quicker and more streamlined?

Just the basics, probably, Izuku thought to himself as he scribbled in his notebook. How to tell from a glance what types of injuries to expect, what questions to ask before moving a person, the concept of triage, basic evacuation procedures, and of course, how could he forget? The most important aspect of rescue - ensure that you will not make yourself an additional victim.

The concept of taking care of yourself first was a difficult one for people with life-saving quirks as well as those that worked in that type of industry. It was something that many aspiring heroes never really managed to learn - not until it was too late. It was something Izuku had had to learn himself as well - you can’t help someone if you’re running on empty, can’t save a drowning person if you don’t know how to swim. You have to make sure that your own cup is full before you pour its contents out to others.

Sadly, many rescue heroes were rescue heroes because they cared . Caring may be a wonderful thing, but if it blinds you to your capabilities, then you’re the one getting hurt. And you’re preventing more people being saved in the future.

A hard lesson indeed, but one that Izuku believed to be one of the most valuable.

Izuku checked his watch and saw he had about ten minutes left until the lunch bell. He couldn’t deny that he was looking forward to Lunch Rush’s cooking again. Basic set, or something a little more special, Izuku knew it would be superb.

Izuku stood up and stepped back from his desk, looking around the room as a whole. Warm was the wrong word with the cooler colours dominating the walls. Cozy, close, or embracing were similarly incorrect.

But safe… it looked safe to him. Whether his students would agree with that, Izuku would have to see. He liked it, but the majority of the office wasn’t for his benefit, but for others.

He left the room and closed the door behind him, huffing out a soft laugh when there was a slight shimmer and the door faded back into a wall. “You’re going to have to be a door eventually, you know. It’s not supposed to be an incredibly private place, but somewhere students can find.” A tinkling noise like that from a bell rang out. It sounded like a laugh. Izuku wasn’t surprised. Trust Nedzu to program his door to respond to humour. 

It was now far closer to lunch, and Izuku set off towards the cafeteria, eager to eat something tasty. Should he savour the simple elegance of the basic meal, or take Lunch Rush up on the offer of something a bit more spectacular?

Izuku decided to go with the basic set still. He liked traditional food just fine, and if it was even a percentage of delicious as it had been on Friday, Izuku wasn’t going to miss it for the world.

Selecting the basic ticket and sliding it across the counter with a short bow, Izuku waited for his food patiently, taking the time to pour himself both a mug of hot, complimentary green tea and a glass of cool water and collecting a pair of chopsticks.

His food ready, he thanked Lunch Rush, who waved it off airily before turning back to his next customer. 

He took his tray and drinks and went to the false wall where the teachers sat. Izuku idly wondered how many students noticed their teachers going that way - if they didn’t notice at all, only noticed a teacher there, then gone, or if they simply just didn’t want to think about teachers and lessons during their lunch hour. That could potentially be another lecture topic - awareness of your surroundings. Unless he missed his guess, Eraserhead would be more than happy to set something up for a more practical lesson what with how he liked to play pranks under the guise of logical ruses. 

There was a fuller complement of staff there today, Midnight already gossiping with Snipe, Yamada gesticulating with chopsticks as Kan and Hound Dog both listened and dodged with practiced ease.

Izuku sat down and with a quiet thanks, started eating his food, ears open to any change in the noise or atmosphere, but determined to eat the deliciousness before him.

There was a small dip in the noise, a shift of fabric, and the creak of benches as - Izuku thought it was Kan - turned to look at him. But Yamada’s story drew him back in soon enough, and the room regained its previous level of noise and laughter. 

Izuku ate slowly but thoroughly, wanting every last grain of rice, every bit of fish, every drop of soup. And kept his ears open.

He had been trained - not by Nedzu so much, but through experience - to keep his eyes and ears open, to keep his head down. That information was the only form of currency he had available to him, but if he was caught at it, he would pay the price. It hadn’t kept him safe from Kac- Bakugou, but it had let him hide from some of the stupider bullies who thought tripping him when he walked through doors was the height of humour. It had let him be a little safer a little longer. It had let him realize just how much people said when they felt comfortable… and that what people didn’t say could speak louder than words.

Izuku grew to learn how to eavesdrop and spy. At first just to stay safe. Listen to his bullies and his bullies’ friends. Learn when they were going to ambush him, how much they hated him. 

But that wasn’t all he learned. Not by a long shot.

His notebooks weren’t just for heroes, after all.

His lunch finished, he pressed the tray forward a couple of inches, a subconscious gesture telling everyone around him that he was done. Then he winced. Tells like that were what Nedzu wanted to train out of him. He was supposed to read them, not give them. 

Apparently there was a good reason for that too, because even though Izuku had moved the tray quietly, it still made Midnight and Snipe look over at him, the former with a gleeful grin on her face. 

“Midoriya-sensei,” she sang out, sliding along the bench and draping herself provocatively across the table. “How has your day been?”

“Good so far. Yours?” 

“Mmm, most excellent,” she purred, a pleased smile curving her lips. “I got to traumatize three separate students today.” She gave a luxurious stretch and then propped her chin on her hand, the artifice off like a switch as the seductress faded away, and the teacher took the reins. “It’s always fun to see our students become adults here,” she mused, looking over her shoulder at through the false wall. 

Izuku went to nod, then thought better of it. “I was going to agree with you,” he started dryly, “but then I realized that not only have I not done that, I’m not an adult either.”

Midnight laughed, a hearty guffaw that did not match her hero persona, but suited who Kayama Nemuri was to a T.

“It would be a little difficult for you to appreciate it in the same way,” she agreed.

Izuku looked through the false wall too, trying to figure out where the class 1A and 1B students were sat. He wanted the fresher students to show off their quirks while the ones that were more tired would be glad to sit for a lecture and a chance to ease their sore muscles and relax their quirks. Not really able to see how tired they were - Shiozaki’s head bowed in prayer and Iida’s enthusiastic arm swings didn’t count - Izuku decided to ask someone who might know. 

“Kayama-sensei,” he began. “Did you happen to notice if either of the hero classes is… particularly tired today? I’m having half of them show off their quirks for me in one of the gyms, but I’d prefer not to tire them out too much.”

Her eyes narrowed in thought, finger tapping at her chin. “I don’t think so,” she said. “Hey, Kan,” she called out. When the man looked at her with an eyebrow raised in question, she winked at Izuku and continued, “any plans to exhaust your students in hero training today?”

He snorted a bit, but the wry grin on his lips dispelled any notion that he might be irritated or annoyed. “Nah, they’re getting it easy today. Tomorrow?” He raised his brows. “Not so much. Kids won’t know what hit them.”

Midnight grinned back at him. “There you have it. No use asking Aizawa,” she added. “He always runs his kids ragged. If you wait for a day when they’ll be taking it easy… you’ll be waiting for a long, long time.”

“I’m starting to realize that,” Izuku murmured. “Thank you,” he added belatedly. “That was a good idea.”

She stretched and stood, before leaning over to ruffle his hair. He didn’t try to dodge or stop her, just sat there baffled while his already messy hair became even more of a mess under her gentle fingers.

“Anytime,” she told him, then sauntered out of the alcove, hero persona back in full swing.

Izuku watched her go, feeling mildly perplexed, in awe, and wary as shit.

Probably exactly what she was going for.

“I’m sure most of you grew up with tales of All Might, saving the world single-handedly. While All Might is an amazing hero, he famously works alone, with only a solitary sidekick to his name, who then left to create his own hero agency. While this is no fault of his own, the popularity of All Might generally encourages kids to think of having to do everything alone. Which, while occasionally possible, is in no way recommended.”

“Yes, you have to do some things alone. But what if you don’t actually have to? There’s a reason that we try to buffer our weaknesses, but in the field, it’s best to play to your strengths. Hagakure-kun, Iida-kun” he said. The two looked up. “Who do you think runs faster, Hagakure-kun?” 

A giggle broke forth. “Iida will, sensei!”

“And Iida-kun. Are you as potentially stealthy as Hagakure-kun?”

Iida stood, hands a-swinging, and two or three people giggled. Iida took a deep breath, obviously prepared to announce his thoughts loudly, then looked down at his arms and at the students failing to hide snickers behind their hands before stilling his arms and saying mildly “I believe the evidence speaks for itself,” and sat down.

Izuku smiled too. 

“Each of you have your own strengths, skills, and weaknesses. Some are obvious - Hagakure-kun here is invisible, giving her a natural edge on being unnoticed. Iida-kun has literal engines in his legs, which naturally boost his speed. But those strengths are weaknesses as well - Hagakure-kun will find it difficult to stand out, and to get people's attention. Iida-kun’s engines will make it harder for him to go undercover as engine mutations are known to be linked to the Iida family. You probably have trouble finding pants that adequately keep your legs warm too, don’t you?” he asked Iida who nodded, hand tapping in time.

“Of course,” he added, “Not all of your strengths are quirk related either. Ashido-kun, you enjoy dance, do you not?” She grinned and answered cheerfully in the affirmative. 

“While I’m sure your quirk could have some secondary benefits towards it, dance is not directly related to it.”

“My point is,” Izuku continued, making himself comfortable on his desk, “is that all of you have different strengths and weaknesses. By working together, you can shore up each others’ weaknesses, and lend each other your strength.”

He took a sip of water. “Of course,” he added, “that’s all well and good to say that, but I’m sure all of you get along better with some people than others.”

There were a few giggles quickly stifled, and others looked around, picking out their friends and sending a quick smile or wave. 

“In some situations, you will be placed with people you don’t get along with.” His voice was calm, but firm. “You’ll be placed with people you don’t know, people you know well, people you dislike, even those you hate. You’ll be placed with people who can negate your quirk, or make it dangerous to use. But if you’re placed with them on the same team, you’ll have to deal with it, because that means that you have lives to save. You cannot afford to waste time and energy fighting. 

“If you’re in a situation where you’re fighting a villain while also fighting your teammate, now you have to watch the villain and your own back if you can't trust your teammate to watch it for you. You’re fighting two people at once, and believe you me that the villain is going to take advantage of that. It’s dangerous, first and foremost, not just for your rate of capture or any destruction that may be happening, but also for your life and the lives of those around you.

“If you’re on a rescue mission, and you’re bickering with your teammate, that too is a mistake. You need to present a united front, especially if there are civilians around. Already scared, they will actively panic if those that are supposed to be rescuing them are fighting instead. At that point, you need to put your own feelings aside. You’re a person too, but when you’re on the clock, you need to be a hero.”

“Now!” Izuku clapped his hands together sharply, startling his students. “We’re going to play a bit of a game. I have here” he brandished slips of paper, “a bunch of heroes’ names on here. I’m going to put them in this bag, and pick out four groups of two. Then, in groups, it’ll be your job to figure out how these heroes would work together - if there would be any clashes, if there would be any positive or negative interaction of the quirks, and what you could do to mitigate or solve the problems. Like last time, you can use any resources available to you. At the end of the time, write those down and pass them up to the front.”

Murmurs arose as Izuku surveyed the class. Most were looking some measure of interested, though a couple, Kaminari and Satou, were showing apprehension. His eyes roved around and landed on K- Bakugou. He was in his customary belligerent pose of feet on the desk and hands in his pockets, but his jaw was clenched and his eyes narrowed.

Was it the concept of teamwork that was driving him to look so angry? Or was it just the usual - Izuku’s very presence?

Though Izuku hated to admit it, he’d been avoiding Bakugou. He saw him in class, yes, but tried not to look too hard at him, not to bring him up as an example. He saw and heard his explosions on Saturday, and had turned his back, seeking out other students. 

Izuku knew that there were reasons beyond cowardice for it; If you lined his students up in order of help required, Bakugou would not be near the top. His physical skills and mastery of his quirk were excellent - he had problems with his temper and how he perceived others, but though Izuku could think of a dozen things that might help Bakugou with his quirk, those were not as immediately necessary. 

Moreover, Izuku knew that approaching him would do little but infuriate the blonde. At this point, their history and baggage was far too heavy and present to allow Bakugou to accept help - from anyone really, but especially from him. 

Bakugou would have to wait. That too, Izuku knew, would pique his fury. Bakugou hated Izuku, hated him acknowledging him, hated him ignoring him. There was nothing Izuku could do to quell his rage except to cease to exist.

And Izuku would do that no longer.

He shook his head to rid himself of the lingering thoughts that made his fingers shake. He dumped the slips of paper into the paper bag he had brought with him, and shook it up lightly. 

Then he pulled out two slips.

“Mt. Lady,” he read out, “and Rock Lock.”

There was about a fifty-fifty split of students who knew who one or the both were, but there was a good portion of faces that looked clueless. Izuku, expecting this, clicked on the projector, displaying both of the Pro Heroes he had mentioned. 

A few more sounds of realization ran through the room.

The images shrank down and part of the screen was dominated with text - namely the names of the hero, the quirk name and general function, and a few lines about their personalities. He pointed down the column with Aoyama at its head. “You five, either all together, or a group of two and a group of three. You’ll be focusing on those two.”

He pulled out two more. 

“Midnight and Ms. Joke.” He pointed down the second column. “You guys, same as the first team.” The screen flickered to the two newly mentioned heroes

“The sidekick Burnin’ and Gang Orca,” he said, nodding to the third line.  

“And, last but not least, Present Mic and Eraserhead” He tapped a few more buttons and the screens multiplied, each pair of heroes now in front of the column of students that were meant to be working on them.

“You have twenty minutes,” he told them, and the scramble for seats and pens and paper were music to his ears. A murmur of voices rose steadily into the air as the groups discussed the team-ups, pencils scratching as Yaoyorozu and Kouda took notes. Time ticked by, quickly for some students, judging from the jerks of a few when Izuku clapped his hands. 

“Fold your paper and pass it forward please.” He gathered the papers from Hagakure, Shouji, Ojiro, and Aoyama. He perched himself back up on his desk, running his fingers over the paper as he quickly read over the notes given to him.

With a click of his fingers, he dismissed the projectors, and picked up a piece of chalk, writing down each team-up and his students’ conclusions. The final result looked something like this:

Mt. Lady | Rock Lock

• Arguments may arise because of age 

• Both cocky

• Mt. Lady may attempt to prove self, causing more damage

• Flirtation

• Rock Lock comes across as arrogant and condescending

• Mt.Lady can allow Rock Lock to use his quirk at a higher height than he may be able get to himself, especially quickly

• Rock Lock can ensure the stability of surfaces that Mt.Lady may have to step or lean on in her gigantic form. 

Midnight | Ms. Joke

• Quirks may interfere with each other - Ms. Joke would need to wear something to prevent Midnight’s gas from affecting her; laughter might interfere with the gas inhalation or production

• Laughter could cause people to inhale the gas accidentally or in greater volume

• Sleepiness could cause people to have lowered inhibitions, therefore laugh easier

• Bad teamup against robots or villains that don’t laugh or things that can’t breathe

Burnin’ | Gang Orca

• Burnin’ may dry out Gang Orca - he’s got the mutations of an orca!!

• Personalities might clash? - Burnin’ is known for her over-enthusiasm and arrogance, while Gang Orca is known for being calm and taking things seriously.

• Gang Orca appearing ‘villainous’ and Burnin’s arrogance and fiery personality could scare civilians. However, that being said, they may also bond over being misunderstood/miscatergorized and work well together.

• Gang Orca works best in water; while Burnin’ can fly, that’s not the best place for her.

Present Mic | Eraserhead

• Appear to work well together; may already be friends judging from interactions viewed at school

• Aizawa-sensei’s quirk is good for ambushing and one-on-one, while Yamada-sensei’s quirk is good for crowd control. Yamada-sensei’s quirk would be useful to protect Aizawa-sensei in the case that he can’t erase their quirk or his scarf gets damaged, while Aizawa-sensei could make Yamada-sensei more efficient by cutting off shielding or noise-cancelling quirks while Yamada-sensei does his thing.

• Present Mic does have a directional speaker, but it’s not very precise. Eraserhead will have to be careful not to get caught in the blast.

• Their personalities don’t seem to match well.

• Present Mic is well known, while Eraserhead isn’t. While there’s the possibility that media attention could be drawn to Aizawa-sensei by being in Yamada-sensei’s presence, it’s just as likely that he could shield Aizawa-sensei and protect his identity.

Izuku looked over the board and then over his students with pride.

“Excellent work,” he told them, letting his voice convey his sincerity. Several of his higher strung students relaxed a touch at his approval.

He glanced at his watch. “We’re nearly out of time, so if everyone will pass their scratch paper to the front?” He glanced over at the suddenly worried looking Jirou, and added “or email me the notes if you used a digital medium.”

Over the quiet sound of shuffling papers, Izuku got their attention once more. “Teamwork is important because you cannot do everything alone. Too many heroes have tried and failed, hurting themselves and others. But you do not have to do it alone. You merely have to ask for, or accept help. There is no shame in that. In fact, together, you’ll save more lives than you can alone. And isn’t that what being a hero is all about?”

“With that being said, I have an announcement for all of you. Tomorrow, instead of in the classroom, we’ll be meeting in gym Theta. Are you familiar?”

At the nodding of both Iida and Yaoyorozu, Midoriya smiled. “Then I’ll let you two guide the rest of the class there after lunch. It’ll be a bit more of a ‘hands-on’ sort of class, so if you want to wear your hero uniforms, or your gym attire, that’s perfectly fine. I’ll mention to Aizawa-sensei that they should be unlocked. Any questions?”

At the shaking of heads and the rising chatter, he smiled and dismissed them.

Izuku left with his students and headed towards the class 1-B gym. If he hurried, he should get there just as Kan finished his lesson. If his students were to demonstrate their quirks for him, they would probably prefer being in their gym clothes rather than their uniforms, especially since several of them had quirks that their clothing would interfere with - or vice versa. Though he had asked Kan at the end of lunch to hold his students back from changing, he’d prefer to be there at the end of class so they wouldn’t be waiting. 

Shifting his bag into a more comfortable position, Izuku lengthened his stride. Jogging, much less running, would be a bad idea at a hero school. Besides the obvious lack of manners it would indicate, a teacher running could incite panic, and Izuku worried and panicked enough for everyone here, thank you very much.

Pulling a needed breath firmly into his lungs, Izuku stopped outside the gym door. It was slightly ajar, which was lucky for him, considering that the gyms were quite soundproofed and he wouldn’t have been able to hear Kan’s voice - quiet and obviously winding down. 

Izuku let himself in, closing the door with a firm snick , which made the teacher and a few of the students look sharply over in his direction.

He bowed towards them in apology and greeting both.

Kan quirked his lip at him, his fangs giving it a much scarier feel than was probably intended, before indicating Izuku to the rest of his class.

“Speak of the devil. As I was saying, Midoriya-sensei will be taking care of you from here. Listen well, okay?”

A ragged chorus of agreement rang out, and Kan nodded firmly. “Dismissed, “ he told them and walked towards the changing rooms. A few started to follow him before remembering and scurried after their fellows that had gone towards the door and Izuku. 

He smiled at them. “I hope your class went well?” At their hesitant nods and noises of agreement, he let his smile broaden. “I’m glad to hear it. I’m not sure how much Kan-sensei told you, but we’ll be doing a slightly more practical class today. We’ll be doing it in gym Theta. Any questions?”

There was some shuffling feet and exchanging of looks, but no one spoke up, so after a few moments, Izuku shrugged. “No worries. Follow me then!”

He headed out the door, and called back to the last student, Komori, “close the door behind you please!” When he heard the door shut, he referenced his mental map, and turned towards a convoluted path that would lead them to Theta.

Once all were inside, Izuku closed the door behind him and tapped the display to the side. Soundproofing and safety features up. Bleachers out… and set. Izuku faced his students and gave them a smile. “If you’d all proceed to the bleachers?” When they shot glances at each other, but complied, Izuku trailed after them, admiring the space they were in. Much like Nedzu had said in his email, it was a small gym, maybe only twice the size of their classroom with the bleachers out. 

“Okay class, I trust that your morning has gone well,” Izuku smiled at the assembled students, who were glancing at him, then around the space, then back again. 

“Today, we’re going to be looking at your quirks. The principal has been so kind as to provide this gym for us so that you can show your quirks off without fear of damage or space constraints. I know you’ve already told me a bit about your quirks, and I saw some of them in action on Saturday, but this will give me more of an in-depth look at what you can do and where you might be able to improve, or what changes you need to make. Who would like to start?”

Although Izuku suspected that Kamakiri might have pushed his way to the front and displayed his quirk with arrogant self-assurance a few days ago, it didn’t surprise him when Kamakiri made no move to stand or to move to the front. Instead, after some shared glances and aborted gestures, Kendou stepped forward closer to Izuku, now several paces forward from the rest of the bunched students. She gave Izuku a nervous smile. 

“Should I just…”

Izuku nodded to her, and stepped back and to the side a few paces, so he was closer to the rest of the students, out of danger of her ‘Big Fist’s, but not blocking anyone’s view.

“Whenever you’re ready, Kendou-kun, feel free to demonstrate as much as you like. I’ll ask you some questions after you’re done, but if you’d like to answer or discuss it more in private, I’ll mark you down for an appointment when you’re free.” He gestured. “Go ahead.”

She fidgeted for a few moments, before she took a wider stance, nodded to herself decisively, and held her hands at a wide angle in front of her. Both her hands rapidly expanded until they were more than twice her size. Despite the increased bulk, Kendou held her hands at the same level with no apparent stress showing in her arms or wrists. Izuku noted that her wrists had expanded a bit, but nowhere near to the size they should be to be able to support such massive appendages. She moved her hands around, demonstrating the flexibility she retained, one fluctuating in size, the other remaining at what Izuku presumed to be her maximum, though she was fanning the air back and forth, showing her classmates as well as him the amount she could move in a single movement. As Izuku’s hair blew back from his face, and he had to clutch his notebook tighter to stop it from escaping his grasp, he had to admit it was very impressive.

Kendou smiled nervously, directing her words more at Izuku than the rest of the class. “I’ve mostly used my quirk to make it easier to carry things,” she said, rubbing at her neck with her once-fluctuating hand, now back to normal size. “Or as a fan during summer. Little things that people don’t really mind your using quirks for. I haven’t used it too much in combat situations yet, but I’ve found that expanding my hands really quickly really adds to the element of surprise, even if people already know what I can do. And the momentum of the expansion adds to the force too, I’m pretty sure.” She shrunk both her hands back to normal size, and looked at Izuku. 

Guessing that she was done, Izuku finished making a quick note in his book, and smiled back up at her. “Would you say you’re stronger than usual with your hands expanded? Or have more grip strength than would be explained by the size?”

She looked a bit baffled, but answered readily enough. “I think maybe? I never had trouble carrying what my hands could hold, and my middle school classmates took advantage of that often enough.” A pleased little smile flickered at the corner of her mouth. “And I can open jars better than either of my parents, even without my quirk.”

Izuku chuckled a little at that, and wrote those tidbits down. “Very nice, Kendou-kun,” he said. “I will want you to make an appointment, but that can wait for the end of class.” She blinked at him a little nonplussed, but nodded and went back to sit with her classmates, correctly interpreting his words as a dismissal. 

As he let his students communicate who should go next with whispers, nudges, and pointed glances, Izuku wrote down some things he didn’t want to forget about Kendou. Namely the easy demonstration of strength where she didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary. She had fanned her enlarged hand with no more difficulty than she might her regular sized hand. The air resistance should have impeded her significantly, even if her hands weighed no more than usual. But more than that, Izuku was worried about the strain that her hands might be putting on her wrists, elbows, and shoulders. Her hands weren’t just inflated with air. He could see the flex of muscle and tendons throughout her entire hand during her demonstration. He’d bet a lot that her hands were far heavier than one could reasonably expect to carry. And seeing her display, he could already see places where she would be very vulnerable for anyone who had even basic knowledge in human anatomy. 

He saw the flicker of movement and looked up in time to smile at the next student ready to demonstrate. Rin, the one that could produce scales from his skin.

Rin was looking to Izuku, and so he nodded to him, to give him permission if that was what he was waiting for. Apparently it had been, as Rin quickly began to sprout scales from his arms. “My quirk is called ‘Scales,’ he said calmly, rotating his arms so that Izuku could see they grew not just on the backs of his arms, but also on the softer underside. “I can grow them all over, but I’m mostly used to doing it on my arms. They start out soft and small, but once they get about the size of a fifty yen coin, they’re hard and strong enough that they’ll protect me against quite a bit of damage. And they’re also strong enough that I can use them as projectiles.” He aimed his left arm away from Izuku and the rest of the class and shot out a dozen scales in quick succession. They left enough of an impact that the hard dirt of the floor puffed up some dust. 

Rin put down his arms and the scales slowly started to recede into his skin, much slower, Izuku noted, than they had sprouted.

“Very nice, Rin-kun. Do you know the hardness or durability rating for your scales?” His student shook his head, answering carefully. “I know of the Moh’s scale, sensei, but I don’t know where they fall.”

“No worries,” Izuku said, waving a hand. He went to where Rin had shot his scales and a grin broke out. Rin had placed his scales in a sloppy, but still recognizable smiley face. “I see that you have a fairly high degree of accuracy as well,” Izuku remarked, making a note. That was excellent news for Rin. With both defensive and offensive capabilities, some long range, and with the degree of accuracy he had, he was already very well rounded. 

“Thank you, Rin-kun. I’ll have you make an appointment with me as well.” Izuku had more things to ask him, and though a few could be brushed off as mere curiosity from his analytically leaning mind, others were serious inquiries that could make or break Rin’s career as a hero. 

Izuku turned with a broad smile to the rest of class B. “Who’s next?”

After the last willing student had presented their quirk, Izuku smiled warmly at the students. Some were getting restless, unsurprisingly. 

“Just one last thing, before I send you on your merry way.” He let his gaze drift over them, not singling any of them out, but making sure that they all felt seen.

“Your costumes. If you're not finding them as you expected, if there's anything you would like changed - even if you want the whole thing redone - don't hesitate to let me, Powerloader, or any of your teachers know, and we'll get you scheduled in.” He frowned thoughtfully. “That will also give you the opportunity to get to know some of the support students; while in bigger hero agencies there will often be a few specialists that work with every hero there, it's always good to make connections here as well.” 

Though Izuku didn't say it directly, thought he thought his students might have picked up on it anyway, was that if you weren't in a bigger agency or one that had specialists, then you were on your own anytime that your costume malfunctioned or needed more support items - you had to figure it out by yourself. There would be time for that later, once they got a little older, and had some experience under their belt. Nepotism was a long tradition and though Izuku didn't particularly like it himself, he had to admit that it sometimes had its uses. And there is little anyone could do about it. You had to play within the game until you could change the rules.

“Anyway,” Izuku added, back from his brief internal monologue, “having your costume be comfortable and completely designed for you is paramount. You might think ‘ oh that buckle is a little annoying, but it's no big deal’ but when you're in battle, or a stressful situation, even something that small can interfere and be the catalyst for a catastrophe.” He looked at the students, head tilting subconsciously, analyzing the expressions and movements - a flash of worry, the reach for a hemline, feeling the material between fingers, looks between neighbours, a nudging elbow, a pointed glance. 

“Even if you just don't like it. If it feels uncomfortable to you, there's probably a good reason, and usually something different will suit you better. The design teams worked with what they had, and sometimes the choices they made are for good reason, but sometimes it was just up to their personal preference.” Izuku spread his hands. “You know yourself best. And as you grow older and become stronger and more attuned to your quirks, your costumes will have to reflect that.” He smiled softly. “If you have any questions, feel free to ask them now. Or during your meetings, if you prefer.”

Kendou immediately raised a hand. He nodded permission.

“Sensei, where exactly is your office?” 

“Right, thank you Kendou-kun, that had slipped my mind,”Izuku admitted. “It's directly across from 1-D. I don't believe it has a specific name or number assigned to it; I was given to understand it was newly created.” His brow creased in thought. “I'm hoping it will decide to be more visible from now on so people can find it, but we will have to see. Any more questions? Yes, Yanagi-kun.”

“Are we allowed to have meetings with you even if you didn't ask us to?” questioned the pale-haired girl. 

“Of course,” Izuku answered. “That's what I'm here for. I don't quite have my hours set up, but as soon as I do, you'll be among the first to know.” Izuku flipped through his notebook quickly, before he saw a note. “Right. I'm not sure if Kan-sensei mentioned this, but Wednesday’s class - day after tomorrow - will be a joint class with 1A, your teacher, Aizawa-sensei, and me, a double block. It'll take place in gym Alpha-Omega, so I'll see you all there. Any more questions?”

Seeing none, Izuku nodded decisively. “In that case, you're all dismissed. Enjoy the rest of your day.”

His students left in a murmuration of gossip, a few throwing glances behind them at a carefully constructed nonchalant Izuku. A few looked like they might like to linger but were pulled along by their friends or societal norms. One did stay however, one who hadn't volunteered to demonstrate, hovering awkwardly about eight feet away. Izuku finished his last note and closed the notebook before looking up with a smile. 

“Tsunotori-kun, how can I help?”

She smiled at him shyly, making a stiff bow. “Izuku-sensei, I am sorry. My Japanese is very… um, rusty. I am having ah, trouble? understanding everything. Monoma-kun and Honezuki-kun are helping me when they can, but…” she trailed off, her normally bubbly personality subdued. 

“Of course, Tsunotori-kun, you’ll have to forgive me,” he told her, taking care to speak a little slower and enunciate clearer than he might normally. “I am a very new teacher; we are both learning as we go.” He paused for a moment in thought. “I can speak slower, for sure,” I started slowly, “and I can see about you getting extra help from the English teacher here - Yamada-sensei I think it is.” At Tsunotori’s eager nod, his lips quirked. “Alright,” he said, opening his notebook to a fresh page and jotting down both the teacher’s and the student’s name along with a few words to jog his memory later that day when he was compiling his notes. “I’ll pass that along to Yamada-sensei, and please let me know if I start speaking too fast again.” She nodded. “Is there anything else?” 

She nodded again, and pulled out her own notebook, a few lines of hiragana with question marks clear on the page. “Well look at that,” he said appreciatively. It was from today’s lecture, a few less-common words that he or a fellow student had used. He flipped his own book closed and stowed it in his bag, then took her offered book and pen. 

“Paramount - that means the most important,...” 

His impromptu English-Japanese lesson over, Izuku cheerfully bade Tsunotori goodbye and headed back to his new office. He had plenty more notes to compile, and though tomorrow’s lecture for class B would be the same as the one he had already given, that was no excuse for not getting at least the framework ready for Thursday’s or Friday’s lectures. He really did have to think of better ways of getting information across. And these kids were listening to lectures everyday - had been since they were four or five. They were probably tired of them. Izuku was, and he was done listening to lectures for the foreseeable future. 

He was very grateful that his accelerated schedule had allowed him to skip many in-person lectures. There simply wouldn’t have been enough time. With Inko’s worried permission, he had been taken out of his last year of middle school. Turns out that when you didn’t have to deal with bullies causing havoc, and teachers spreading out pertinent bits over weeks, with a self-paced program, learning was easy. He had breezed through that last year of middle school in just over a month, crammed for two more and challenged the certificate exam before spending the next while preparing for university. 

Normally, universities didn’t accept students as young as he was - just barely 15 -, nor at any other time than April, but with Nedzu’s connections and polite refusal of refusals, Izuku was able to be enrolled and again, accelerated through many hoops. 

Nedzu had wanted him for this year and wasn’t taking no for an answer.

Izuku still wasn’t sure why Nedzu had been so adamant about it. He would have been perfectly fine with taking a little longer. And the principle, true to form, refused to clarify, taking an abject delight in making Izuku work for it. 

Reaching the opposite of 1-D, Izuku reached for the door again, brushing against paint, feeling for the knob of the invisible door. He pressed his thumb to the divot and the door swung open, a pleased sounding chime ringing as he stepped over the threshold. “Hello to you too,” he murmured, sliding his bag off of his shoulder and letting it rest on the desk. He rummaged around through it for a moment to locate his notebook, then finding it, settled down in the desk chair and started to compile his notes. 

Iida seemed to be loosening up, if only just a touch. His self-aware remarks at Izuku’s question had made others laugh - and it had been meant to be lighthearted. Although it had only been a week since Izuku had started to teach, which was very fast… enough so that Izuku thought he might be imagining it. Regardless, Izuku was pleased to see the positive change. A few of the quieter students were talking more animatedly than they might otherwise, the other, more brash students putting a little bit more effort into listening when their classmates spoke. 

He had to remember to follow up with Yamada-sensei, both for hand signs and for English/Japanese help for Tsunotori. He scribbled a memo down and stuck it on the edge of the computer screen.

Setting up his hours for his other part of his job was next. With that thought in mind, he pulled up  Yuuei’s schedule for first years.

They had quite the busy schedule. Izuku wasn’t surprised. A full high-school curriculum, plus all of the heroic classes, practicals, and training blocks meant that each day was chock-full. Izuku had a much lighter schedule in comparison. The only times he wouldn’t be available was when he was already teaching. 

He found a blank timetable and printed it, a pencil tapping at his lips. He lightly coloured in when he wasn’t available for counselling, hesitating over the lunch break. He didn’t mind eating in his office or being available then, but he also didn’t want to force a student to choose between having a filling lunch and having an appointment. After a minute of thinking, he left it as an available time. The students didn’t have a lot of free time as it was. This might be one of the better choices for students that had after school clubs or weren’t able to get to school early. 

After a few more moments, Izuku had a timetable that should work for both him and the majority of students. 

Mornings could be booked ahead of time, but Izuku didn’t want to give up his mornings quite yet, or at least not enough to be available for drop-ins. From noon on, he would be available for appointments and drop-ins both, for an hour after the hero students’ last class, and an additional hour for appointments only. 

He printed out another few copies of the blank template, and carefully colour-coded them so that his availability was clear. He added a note at the bottom directing readers to his official school email in order to make an appointment for now, though he wouldn’t be surprised if Nedzu set up a portal type system to make it easier. Then he scanned the timetable, and updated the blurb for Nedzu to send to the rest of the school.

Office hours for quirk counselling and analysis services are now available to all first year students. Please come see Midoriya Izuku opposite 1D to discuss your quirk with a trained professional. By appointment and walk-in; appointments take precedence.  Drop-ins between noon and 5:30pm, appointments between 7am-6:30pm. Email [email protected] to make an appointment. 

After a few more go-overs, Izuku was satisfied with the blurb and timetable, and emailed it to the principal, adding in his appreciation of his office space, and questioning how to make the door visible for his students. He sent a further email to Present Mic, gently inquiring when the other man might be available to discuss a few of his students.

With that, Izuku was done for the day. He’d go home, eat a good meal with his mom, and enjoy the feeling of a job well done, and the shivery, buzzing anticipation of what the future might bring.