Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Monday, ??

“Eraserhead!”

Shota froze abruptly, spinning around to where the voice had come from. He’s perched on the edge of a building, high enough up that people don’t tend to notice him, especially at this hour. He’s honestly a bit surprised by the voice; his gaze instantly dropping to the direction of the call.

The voice comes from the ground—a darkened alleyway. There’s no lighting, and from this distance he can hardly make out anything below, even when he squints.

The thing is, he doesn’t get identified—never in his life had his Hero name been called out randomly when he’s on patrol. Villains know his name, but not his face or costume, and Heroes on similar routes wouldn’t call out to him.

Someone, whoever this is, knows him when they shouldn’t. They know him enough to know his name, and be able to match it to his costume—to know his patrol route.

Nothing about this was normal.

He doesn’t call back, just keeps silent until a figure, fairly small, emerges from the shadows. He sees the calculating tilt of the figure's head just barely as he, judging by the voice, cocks his attention back and forth appearing formulating.

Shota still doesn’t announce his presence any more than already announced. He has no idea who this person is, even if the voice is faintly familiar. That though, means nothing to a Hero; not every voice he hears is that of a friend, even if this one does sound friendly.

Shota recoils in surprise, almost losing his footing as he jerks to his full height, when the small figure lights up with sparks of green. It’s obviously a Quirk, but like no Quirk Shota has seen before.

It’s almost blinding how the lightning coils around the small figure as if its coursing through his veins. Shota watches stunned as whoever this is bounces swiftly between the building Shota is perched on and the neighboring building like a game of Pong.

When the person was close enough to the top, they took one last Quirk enhanced leap before landing with precision on the side of Shota’s building and scaling the rest of the way up until he could pull himself up over the ledge.

“I—” the figure wheezes when he’s finally got both feet on the rooftop, hunched over as he sucks in a couple deep breaths, “—am so glad I found you! I’ve been looking for hours!”

The voice is young, Shota knows that much. The small stature makes it obviously clear that this is a teenager—probably no older than his own first year students.

Shota can’t help but wonder what this teenager is doing out at this time; using a Quirk no less.

Does he not know the laws?

Shota squints once again at the figure, finally able to take him in as he’s bathed in the pale moonlight.

The child wears green—a full suit of green with black detailing. It’s one solid piece, and it’s ripped and torn; dirty. There’s a hood on the green costume, but it’s almost completely torn in two, still, Shota spies dark green curls hidden behind torn fabric.

He frowns as he takes the child in completely.

It almost looks like a Hero costume, maybe, but there’s absolutely no way this kid is a licensed Hero. He’s far too young.

But he also isn’t a student that Shota knows. He’s doubtful the teen is older than fifteen, and Yuuei is the only Hero school in the radius—this kid is definitely not a 1-A or a 1-B student.

And if he were, he’d know that Quirk usage is prohibited.

Still, he can’t ignore the fact it looks like this child has been in a fight quite recently. He wouldn’t be surprised if he was injured or bruised beneath that costume. The teacher and Pro Hero tug at the cautious part of Shota’s thoughts until: “What happened to you?”

Despite staring at Shota, the teenager startles before releasing a breath when he’s addressed.

He rubs at the back of his neck before pausing, almost as if the question finally hits him. The calmness in the boy’s face jolts to something more nervous and cautious, “w-wait. Don’t... don’t you remember? The fight? The villain? I-I saw you doing crowd control—”

“Remember?” Shota cocks an eyebrow, arms crossing over his chest. He doesn’t know what the kid’s getting at, but he hasn’t been in a fight tonight, and certainly not with whoever this is. “Kid, I don’t even know you. And there’s no way in hell I’d be in a fight with someone like you—you're a literal child.”

“Y-you don’t—” the kid sucks in a shaky breath, reaching up to rake his fingers through dirty green curls. Shota furrows his brow as the child takes a shaky step back away from him, but doesn’t try to leave, “you don’t r-remember... it’s me, Eraserhead, it’s Midoriya!”

Midoriya. The name rings a bell, honestly. But he can’t put his finger on why.

“Please,” the child begs desperately, “you-you need to, you’ve gotta, gotta remember! I-I—I’m Midoriya, Sensei, Midoriya Izuku. Please, you know me! Please tell me you remember me!”

The name clicks into place and Shota feels his lip curl in disgust. What the hell is this? What kind of ruse is this? What kind of a set up? What the hell does this guy have planned here? What’s his angle?

Shota knows that name—God, there isn’t a Pro who doesn’t at this point.

Shota sneers at the teenager across from him. His defense raises like the hairs on the back of his neck as he glares steadily, ready and waiting for whatever will come from this encounter. He narrows his gaze when the teen shifts; just the thought of sharing this rooftop with Japan's most notorious villain makes his skin prickle. “Deku.”

“Y-yes!” the teenager cries out in relief, taking a small step towards Shota, “I’m Deku! I’m so g-glad you—”

“Deku,” Shota growls darkly, flicking out his capture weapon hastily to snag the villain before he can make his move. He's quick to tug it taut, leaving no room for Deku to escape. “You’re under arrest.”

“I-I’m what?! W-wait!”

Tuesday, ??

Deku doesn’t say a thing.

They’re at the station now. He’d dragged the villain there himself, not trusting waiting for any back up or a police escort. The faster he had Deku really contained, the better for the entirety of Japan.

Now, Deku is contained in Quirk cancelling cuffs, cuffed to the table in one of the interrogation rooms. He looks... well, scared is what Shota would say. It’s not fear of being arrested and detained, it’s more... genuine fear. A genuine fear that Shota can’t place.

Shota stands behind the two-way glass with Tsukauchi, both of them watching the teenager intently. Deku hasn’t spoken since his arrival at the station, just kept his head ducked as he wrings his hands together nervously. The teen tugs and prods at his own hands, and it frankly looks like it hurts.

“This is Deku?” Tsukauchi asks at Shota’s side, eyes studying the child as his lips curl downwards into a small frown, “I expected him to be... I don’t know. Angrier? To have more attitude? He’s been caught— I mean, he's not even smug about it. I expected more smart responses. He just looks... defeated.”

“Terrified,” Shota adds with a grimace. He shakes his own frown away, forcing his features back to indifference as he crosses his arms over his chest, “yeah, that’s really Deku. Midoriya Izuku. He introduced himself. Confirmed who he was. That’s him. No doubt.”

Tsukauchi crosses his own arms over his chest, frown deepening as he finally tears his gaze away from the teenager locked to the table in the room, “something doesn’t feel right here, Eraser.”

That much Shota can agree with.

This is weird. This whole thing. Deku searching for him. Deku basically turning himself in. Deku had put up almost no resistance when trapped in Shota’s capture weapon; he hadn’t squirmed, or seemed surprised after that initial shock of it constricting around him. It didn’t make sense because everyone always tried to wriggle out of his scarf, and it was always a futile effort.

But Deku hadn’t. He’d just slumped into its hold and gave up entirely. He’d given up before even trying like he knew it was useless to even entertain the idea of escaping. But how could he know?

The more he sees of this kid, the more questions he has.

Upon arrival, after being cuffed and released from the capture weapon, the pouches on Deku’s utility belt had been emptied and examined. He’d been patted down like any criminal, and the teen had been so close to tears Shota had almost wanted to promise it would be alright.

He didn’t— this is still Deku, the villain who'd brought the world of Heroics to its knees in nothing more than a year. The villain who’s had a hand in ending dozens of Hero’s careers, and who’d assisted Shigaraki with his attacks on Yuuei—endangering Shota’s kids on more than one occasion.

They hadn’t found a lot of things on his persons, but there was a Yuuei ID card—one that Shota knows doesn’t exist. It’s a fake, it has to be, but he’d still spent a good hour staring down at Midoriya Izuku’s smiling little face trying to figure out how it was faked. How something fake could be so realistic.

When they’d found the card, Shota had gotten into contact with Nezu, because who else was there to call except for the smartest creature in all of Japan, who just so happened to be the Yuuei principal. If anyone would be able to tell how Deku managed to make such a realistic school ID card, it would be him.

As expected, the rodent had been intrigued by not only the situation itself, but by the forged ID card that not even one of Nezu’s teachers could debunk. The rat had promised to make his way over to the station, and Shota doesn’t doubt that he’ll be arriving shortly.

“Do you think something happened to him?” Shota draws his attention from the teen to glance at Tsukauchi. The detective isn’t looking at Shota, eyes still narrowed on Deku.

“Not sure,” Shota frowns. “His arrest was weird; I can’t deny that. There could be some ulterior motive—I wouldn’t put it past Deku to have a plan in motion, I just can’t figure out why he’d risk being arrested. Then again, it could be something like amnesia, or a Quirk’s influence maybe—whatever it is, we should be thankful for it. It’s a much safer place with him off the streets, Heroes can finally have some peace of mind.”

“I don’t know,” Tsukauchi finally looks away from Deku, “it feels too easy, Eraser. Deku has hardly let us see him—he's a behind the scenes kind of guy. I just... this seems too good to be true.”

Shota shrugs, but the thought nags at him too.

They watch Deku intently as they wait. The teen doesn’t move. He doesn’t look up at his surroundings, look for an escape or diversion. He keeps his head ducked. The only movements they can see are how he’s fidgeting anxiously with his own fingers—tugging almost subconsciously at the cuffs.

Deku hasn’t seen anyone since he’d been escorted into the room and cuffed to the table. He hadn’t put up any fight, has simply settled tensely in the chair and hovered his cuffed hands over the table to be cuffed in place, like he knew the procedure.

Neither Shota or Tsukauchi leave the window until Nezu arrives. After warm greeting from the rodent, Tsukauchi leads Nezu into his office, where Deku’s utility belt, belongings and ID card are sitting.

The rodent lets out a pleased hum, taking the card into his paws and examining it closely—both front and back. His whiskers arch forwards as he studies the ID. Finally, Nezu looks away from it, expression unreadable.

“This is one-hundred percent authentic, I’m afraid,” Nezu sets the card flat on the desk, leaning away from it with a perturbed expression, “no forgery whatsoever. Rather fascinating.”

“It’s real, but he’s not a student at Yuuei?” Tsukauchi blinks in surprise.

“Indeed,” Nezu hums, whiskers twitching, “according to the ID card, he’s supposed to be a first-year this year. The serial number on the card is quite similar to those of the most current 1-A students, but I can’t say this specific number had been assigned to anyone.”

“Wait,” Shota narrows his eyes dangerously, “so you’re telling me if we tried this card on the Yuuei gates, the doors would open? Deku has access to the school? To the students?”

“I have no reason to believe they wouldn’t,” Nezu shrugs, paws clasping together across the small of his back, “it is an authentic Yuuei ID card, Aizawa-kun.”

“But how?” the underground Hero pushes.

“Well, that, Aizawa-kun, is the question, now isn’t it? Why don’t we ask Deku?” Nezu suggests brightly, already stepping towards the interrogation room. Tsukauchi shoots Shota an unsure look before following after the rodent. Shota himself huffs a breath as he snags the card off the table and follows after them with slumped shoulders.

He doesn’t imagine this will go well, and the bright glint in Nezu’s eyes is never a good thing.

He already feels a headache starting.

Deku barely looks up when they enter the interrogation room.

There are three chairs in the room—two across from Deku where Tsukauchi and Nezu sit, and one on the side of the table where Shota plops down. Deku squirms a little where he’s still sitting, his cuffs clinking against the metal tabletop as the two Heroes and Detective settle.

Deku’s eyes flicker briefly over all three of them before his gaze is dropping back to his lap. His fingers twitch, and Shota’s eyes trail over the scars lining Deku’s hands. He wonders where the villain got them all; as far as they’re aware, Deku is all brains and no brawn when it comes to his villain work. He doesn’t usually get his hands dirty, just supplies the information for others to do so.

“Good evening, Deku,” Nezu chirps with a wide smile, “well, I suppose at this hour, it’s good morning, hm? Nevertheless, it’s nice to finally be meeting you. I’ve heard quite a lot about you! Quite the track record you have!”

“Nezu-Sensei,” a tiny, hardly there, voice greets back. Deku still isn’t looking up, but Shota supposes him talking is better than nothing. Even if he won’t face them.

The teen sounds drastically different to the kid Shota had met on the rooftop just hours earlier—nothing but a whisper compared to the Deku Shota had briefly talked to before arresting.

Nezu’s smile widens as he leans closer. His features are sharp and almost animalistic: Shota almost pities the kid on the receiving end.

Almost.

“So you know me then, Deku?” Nezu chirps, genuinely pleased with the fact, “I must say, it’s rather odd of you to address me as Sensei when you’re not a student at my school. And I hear you also know Eraserhead quite well; it’s strange that you’d address Eraserhead as Sensei as well, considering it’s not common knowledge that he even teaches at Yuuei.”

Deku’s head ducks down further until his dirty curls are curtaining his eyes. He doesn’t say anything.

Silence lingers for a long moment.

Deku’s head is still ducked, Tsukauchi is watching the teen with a furrowed brow and that tiny frown, while Nezu is studying the teenager intently, unbothered by the tense silence.

“Well,” Tsukauchi clears his throat when it’s clear no one else is going to break the silence, “you know Eraserhead and Nezu-San then, but you probably don’t know me. I’m Detective—”

“Detective Tsukauchi,” the small voice offers, “your Quirk is Lie Detector. I know you too.”

That’s surprising—Shota probably would’ve startled if he didn’t have years of remaining uninterested under his belt. Tsukauchi shifts a bit uncomfortably, while Nezu’s grin sharpens into something almost scary. It’s clear none of them were expecting that.

“So, you’ve strayed from taking down Heroes and you’re moving onto law enforcement then? Expanding your horizon, or just tired of ruining Hero careers solely?” Shota asks drily, eyes narrowed on the kid.

He’s not sure what he’s expecting, but it certainly isn’t for the boy’s head to shoot up, genuine disbelief in his expression. His mouth hangs open, and he stares blankly into Shota’s own eyes. The kid swallows thickly like all the moisture in his mouth and throat sapped out of him in surprise, “I do what?”

Shota and Tsukauchi share a quick look, but Nezu doesn’t tear his eyes away from Deku. Black beady eyes watch the child sharply, almost calculatingly. “You seem surprised by that, Deku.”

Tears are welling in the teenager’s eyes, and Shota frowns at the sight. Villains don’t tend to cry—frankly, anger is the emotion that tends to surface more often than not. Anger and desperation. He supposes that this villain is also a teenager, but still... he’d never expected Deku to cry.

Honestly, the kid just couldn’t be farther from the Deku he’s seen and heard about. From the stories and whispers he hears from the rumor mill about the green-haired villain ruining lives without so much as lifting a hand.

Nezu blinks in surprise when he notices as well, but besides that there’s no tell the rodent has even acknowledged the tears.

Deku is still staring at Shota like he’s waiting for the man to tell him it’s a joke—like he’s praying it is all just one big joke, which it’s not. Shota doesn’t know what the hell is going on, but it’s real. It may not make sense, but it definitely is real.

His patience lapses for a second as the teen stares rudely; he’s had a long day of teaching, and then patrol, and he hadn’t even been able to nap during homeroom yesterday morning, considering Kaminari had short circuited while trying to charge all eighteen of his classmate's phones at once. He really doesn’t mean to snap out an unimpressed “well?” when the teenager takes too long to reply to Nezu.

Deku jolts like Shota’s voice physically pains him, and then his poorly constructed façade is crumbling as tears trail down his freckled cheeks.

He sniffles miserably and curls into himself as much as he can in his restraints. He’s blubbering too; loud and heartbreaking in that way only children in true distress can, “I-I didn’t do anything!” “I-I’m a H-Hero, I’m, I’m not a villain!” “I’m s-so-sorry!” “I don’t k-know how I got here!” “Puh-Please Sensei!” he rattles out in rapid succession, hardly even breathing.

There’s more too, mutters and mumbles and whines, but those are just what Shota can make out between the sobbing and panic stuttered breaths; he hates how the fear in the teen’s voice sounds genuine enough that it curls unpleasantly in Shota’s stomach.

Tsukauchi must feel the same if the pinch of unsure distress in his face is anything to go off.

They let the child work his way through his emotions.

For a second, Shota really wants to help the kid; he’s been a teacher too long to not feel his heart crumble at the utter distress, but Nezu holds up a hand that stops him in place. He grits his teeth, but doesn’t move any further then shifting in his seat.

He doesn’t agree with letting the child verge on passing out from lack of breathing as he sobs, but now is not the time to go against Nezu’s orders. He has to keep reminding himself that this is Deku. Deku who’d aided in attacks on Yuuei, like the USJ.

It takes a while, but soon Deku is calming down.

The sobs settle into slight sniffles, and his head is ducked once again hiding away tear-stained cheeks and red eyes. He wiggles around enough to be able to wipe his wet cheeks on his shoulders, and winces minutely as he does so. Huh.

Deku is quiet for another long second, the only thing heard is his stuttered breaths from the crying episode until, “I don’t belong here.”

It’s a quiet admission, and Shota has to strain to hear it.

“Is that so?” Nezu hums, clasping his fingers together and settling his paws on the table top, “you know, Deku, you’re right. You won’t be here long, I’m afraid. You’ve done some terrible, terrible things. Hurt people, killed others. There’s a special place in Tartarus for people like you.”

Shota thinks that might be a little harsh—it's true, sure, but the kid had literally just cried to the point he couldn’t breathe. Nezu isn’t one for knowing human emotions though—nor is he one for beating around the bush. Still, Shota sucks in a surprised breath and tries not to glare at his boss for his bluntness.

Deku’s face twists up like he’s about to start crying again, but he manages through a couple deep breaths. He keeps the tears at bay, but doesn’t get rid of them.

Slowly, the boy looks towards Tsukauchi. “I don’t belong here,” he repeats softly.

Tsukauchi looks like he’s at a loss, but his face doesn’t pinch in that way it does when someone lies to him. The detective draws in an unsteady breath, “where do you belong, Deku?”

“I-I,” the teen swallows down his wobbly voice, “I don’t know. But it’s not here. I don’t— I’m not— this isn’t where I’m supposed to be. I-I'm not a villain, I’m a Hero. I have my-my Provisional License, but I don’t know where it is.”

“Deku,” Shota speaks again, softening his voice just slightly. Unlike Nezu, he will alter his voice for the sake of calming the kid—villain or not, he’s still a child. Deku slowly drags his attention to Shota where his body wilts and his bottom lip wobbles. Shota slips the ID card from his pocket and sets it down on the table. He slides it towards the teenager as he continues, “where did you get this?”

His lip wobbles even more, “y-you gave it to me, Sensei... I’m in class 1-A.”

“I didn’t,” Shota tells him.

“You did,” Deku cries out desperately, “you did, Sensei, you really did. I know you don’t believe me, but I’m n-not lying. I’m not lying, am I Detective Tsukauchi...?”

“He’s not,” Tsukauchi hums under his breath, glancing between the two Pros.

“We’ve never actually met, Deku,” Shota tells him quietly, because they haven’t.

He’s honestly never really met Deku. He’s seen him in passing, he’s seen Deku with the League, but they haven’t met. And he sure as hell has never given the kid a school ID, not when the kid isn’t even in his class. Deku is a villain.

“I don't belong here,” the boy warbles, and he’s starting to sound like a broken record. “Y-you’re my Sensei, m-my homeroom Sensei. You w-wrapped me in your capture weapon and told me I couldn’t be a Hero on my first day of school— de-during the Quirk Apprehension test, a-and I proved you wrong. You said last place would b-be expelled, but you called it a logical ruse. I was in last place and you s-still didn’t expel me.

“You almost died protecting us at the USJ, and, and you live in the dorms with us in Heights Alliance—y-you stopped Kacchan from attacking me on the first day, and, and every time since. Please, Aizawa-Sensei, p-please believe me... I don’t want to do this alone...”

Shota’s heart cracks as the kid speaks. None of that happened— well, some of it did, but not like how Deku is saying. It hasn’t— Shota would know, but the kid is all but begging, and he’s staring at Shota with such a kicked puppy look.

“Midoriya-kun,” Deku sniffles as he forces his watery eyes onto Nezu. Tsukauchi glances over too, and even Shota looks towards the rodent when he uses the teen’s name instead of his villain name. “You say you don’t belong here, but how did you get here?”

Deku quiets down, staring thoughtfully down at the table. His hands wring together, and he tugs at his fingers. Shota has half a mind to reach out and set his hand over Deku’s to stop it, but he keeps to himself.

Finally, the teen sucks in a breath, “I don’t really know. I... I was on patrol with Togata-Senpai for my internship and... and there was a villain attack, I think. I don’t... I don’t remember it very well. I think I got... I got hit, maybe? I just, I don’t know—b-but I woke up here, and I-I knew that I was c-close to where Sen-Sensei patrols and you were there too, so I-I—I thought if anyone could help me, it-it would be you Aizawa-Sensei and I just—” the child chokes on his own breath, forehead dropping down onto his cuffed hands, “I didn’t know what to do. I’m scared, Sensei, and I want to go home, and I-I-I—”

Shota can’t take it anymore.

He can’t sit back and watch this child fall apart all over again.

He can’t ignore a desperate plea.

He can’t watch the child fend his way through a second panic attack in as many minutes. The kid is going to pass out because he’s just not breathing.

He’s moving before he even realizes it; crouching gracefully at the child’s side. He puts a gentle hand on the teen’s knee, and leans a little bit closer to the child so his soft words are heard, “hey, calm down a bit. It’s alright, Midoriya-kun. It’s okay.”

The teen turns slightly towards him with an unrivaled urgency, and Shota’s shocked when the teen’s forehead rams against his chest, just under his chin, desperately. His automatic response is to wrap around the teen, hand cradling the back of the teen’s head as he sobs.

“’m sorry,” Deku cries out, pushing his face into Shota’s capture weapon, muffling the wail of mumbles, “I-I know you’re not—you're not my Sensei, but you are, and I’m— I’m not— I’m not who I am to-to you either. I didn’t d-do anything wrong, but I was arrested, and I’m cuffed to the table l-like a villain and I d-don't like it. I'm a Hero, I-I'm not your Deku. Everything’s different, but it’s the same—but it’s just, it’s not the same too. Not really. A-and I’m just so scared S-sensei. I don’t know what to do!”

“Shh,” Shota lets the hand not on the kid’s head settle between his shoulder blades, rubbing light circles, “take a breath, Midoriya-kun. We’ll figure it out. You’re okay, yeah? You need to take some deep breaths, just follow me, alright?”

Shota takes a couple of modelling deep breaths, and the kid, a literal child, tries to match them through his own gaspy inhales. The teen sniffles, and Shota just knows there’s tears, and spit and snot on his costume, but he can’t be bothered to care. He’s been covered in worse things anyways.

“Good,” he praises quietly, just loud enough for the shaking child to hear, “good job, Midoriya-kun. Deep breaths, just like that.”

It takes a good while for Midoriya’s breathing to even out enough that Shota’s not afraid he’ll pass out on them. Midoriya seems content to just settle against Shota as much as he can while still cuffed to the steel table, face buried in the man’s shoulder and capture weapon. He’s twisted at an odd angle, but he doesn’t seem to care all that much.

Shota catches Tsukauchi’s gaze over the table, the detective wearing a deep frown. The man’s eyes drift down to where only green curls can be seen before lifting back to Shota’s face, expression graver. There wasn’t a single lie in what the teen had said—spouting everything from being Deku to not being their Deku. It's true.

He’s still trying to wrap his brain around that one, honestly.

Nezu is just thoughtfully tapping a finger against the tabletop, scrutinizing gaze scanning Midoriya calmly. The rodent’s attention flickers to the ID card every so often before settling back on the teenager.

When Midoriya finally pulls back, Shota follows his lead; leaning away and sitting back on his haunches. The teen makes a feeble attempt at drying his own face on his shoulder again, before he’s ducking his head like he’s almost embarrassed.

The teen is silent for a second, before offering a sheepish, “I’m sorry.”

Shota frowns, narrowing his eyes at the cried out looking kid, “Problem Child, we both know there’s nothing to apologize for.”

And to Shota’s stupefied shock, the child’s eyes water once again— just this time, instead of tears falling, the teen lets out a sniffly snort of laughter, “sorry,” he adds again, lips flickering up into a tiny smile, “just, my Aizawa-Sensei calls me that too. Parallels or... or whatever, I guess.”

“Parallels,” Nezu hums thoughtfully, looking at Midoriya, “you have to understand that that concept, Midoriya-kun, is a little bit hard to believe.”

Midoriya gives a slow nod as Shota finally pushes himself up and flops back into his chair, worried eyes tracking over the teenager. The boy lets out a faint sigh, “I know Nezu-Sensei, I don’t... quite believe it either, but I kinda have to. Things are different—you all are, but not, um, not really different.”

“Do you think there’s any way to prove this Midoriya-kun?” Tsukauchi asks softly. “I know there is some very compelling evidences to support this theory—the ID card for one, but... like Nezu-San said, this is hard to believe.”

“Well,” Midoriya frowns, fingers wringing together once again, “I mean, I’m not completely sure how things have changed from my, uh, time—”

“Reality,” Nezu corrects not unkindly. “It still is, technically, your time. According to your student ID card at least. We have to assume that both of our worlds run the same time and date, just with minor... obscurities.”

“Uh, right, from m-my reality then. M-maybe you can ask questions about yourselves th-that Deku wouldn’t know—and I’ll answer if I know it about my, um, my Senseis and Detective...”

“Well,” Nezu hums thoughtfully, “that’s a thought, I suppose. Assuming that our realities aren’t different. I suppose the first question should be who your classmates are? You’re a 1-A student, I find it unlikely that the 1-A roster would’ve changed much from reality to reality.”

“Oh,” Midoriya blinks thoughtfully, “um, okay sure. Do I go seating order or just off the top of my head?”

“Seating order ideally,” Shota shrugged, interested in pushing just that little bit more. There’s no way Deku would be able to list the students in their arranged seating, even if he could name them all.

“Sure,” Midoriya nods, “well, starting at number one we have Aoyama, followed by Ashido, Asui, Iida and Uraraka. Then we have Ojiro, Kaminari, Kirishima, Koji and Satou. Students eleven through fifteen are Shoji, Jirou, Sero, Tokoyami and Todoroki, and then we have the last row which is Hagakure, Bakugou, me and then Yaoyorozu.”

“That’s only nineteen,” Shota tells him with a cocked eyebrow, “you said I never expelled anyone.”

“Oh, yeah, Mineta,” Midoriya winces, pulling at his own thumb, “you didn’t on the first day but... he, ah, he didn’t last long. When we all moved into Heights Alliance after Bakugou got kidnapped by the League of Villains, you caught him peeping in the girl’s communal showers. You, um, expelled him instantly and escorted him out in your capture weapon... I think the detective got involved as well, but you never really explained past the promise he wouldn’t bother anyone anymore, and that you were sorry you let it carry on for as long as you did, even though you didn’t know.”

Shota leans back in his seat, eyeing the teenager. That was scarily similar to his current roster.

“Did, um,” Midoriya looks up with hopeful green eyes, “was that close? To your class, I mean.”

“Fairly,” Shota squints at the teen. “All of the students you listed were in fact on my roster. However, Mineta was expelled within the first week, and you, for obvious reasons, were never on my roster. I have nineteen students currently though.”

It looks like Midoriya wants to ask who took his spot in 1-A, but wisely decides not to.

That doesn’t stop the kid from smiling widely though.

“Just like my Aizawa-Sensei!” the teen chirps, and for the first time since Deku had been cuffed, Shota sees the teenager from the rooftop who’d parkoured his way up to him. “That’s really cool, I mean, even in both realities, Mineta was expelled—he deserved it after some of the awful things he said. Gross. The girls always felt so uncomfortable around him.”

“Midoriya-kun,” Tsukauchi draws the teen’s attention back, “how do you know me?”

“Oh!” Midoriya smiles lightly, “well, I met you after the USJ attack. Some of my classmates and I helped All Might fight the Nomu, and I broke a few bones, so I was in the infirmary with All Might and Recovery Girl when you came in. You’re friends with All Might in this reality too, right?”

The three men stare, none even going as far as to breathe as the kid talks.

Midoriya knew All Might in his reality? Midoriya knew Tsukauchi knew All Might? Deku knew All Might?

“Then, of course, there was the mall incident when Shigaraki tried to kill me with his Quirk—that was after Iida, Todoroki and I fought the Hero Killer: Stain but that... oh wait. Ah, I don’t know if I should’ve said that. It’s classified—wait, does Stain exist in your reality?”

Tsukauchi gives a very slow nod.

“Good— I mean, not good, of course, but I’m glad that’s another similarity. Anyways, um, I don’t think I really actually met Detective Tsukauchi until after Shigaraki tried to kill me at the mall, well, I guess technically he just threatened to kill me, but I did think I was gonna die. Then, uh, then you brought me to the police station for questioning, and we talked a bit.”

It’s just then that Midoriya seems to realize no one's said a thing. That the two Pros, and the Detective are silently staring at him—studying him. Fear floods the kid’s face as he audibly swallows, “did... did I say something wrong?”

“No,” Shota clears his throat, heart thrumming in his chest. Midoriya swears he’s his student, but what the fuck kind of teacher is his Aizawa if all that shit happened to one of his students? Their timelines are the same, it’s only been a couple months of school. “Of course not, just... there’s a lot to unpack there.”

The teen lets out a tiny exhale that sounds suspiciously like an ‘oh’.

“Midoriya-kun,” Nezu’s voice is oddly clipped, “you know All Might?”

“Yeah!” the teen grins, nodding enthusiastically, “he’s a parttime teacher at my Yuuei—when he’s not busy with his Hero work, at least. He teaches Foundational Hero Studies, and he’s sorta like my mentor, I guess. I met him way before school started and he... he helped me get ready for Yuuei and— w-why are you all looking at me like that...?”

“Your reality's All Might isn’t retired, Midoriya-kun?” Tsukauchi asks slowly, which prompts an equally as slow shake of the head from the teenager.

“He’s... well, no—I mean, yes, he is, um, he is now. But he wasn’t until a very recent fight, a-after Bakugou got kidnapped. Is... is your All Might retired?”

“He is,” Nezu answers carefully.

“What... happened to him?” Midoriya looks between the three of them cautiously.

“You did.” Shota answer softly, not beating around the bush.

Shota’s not sure he’s ever seen heartbreak spread across someone face as quickly as it does Midoriya. The teen sucks in a few breaths that sound deep, but rattled with panic as he finally manages a shaky exhale of: “w-what...?”

Shota blows out a sigh, leaning forwards.

“Deku happened,” he corrects, “Deku somehow found out that All Might was gravely injured in a fight a while back; a fight he never fully recovered from. Deku realized that All Might wasn’t what he used to be and that his power wasn’t that of when he was younger due to his chronic injuries. Deku he... told some villains—the League of Villains specifically. We think that was his in to the group, but we didn’t know until recently that Deku was the one to spill All Might’s secret.”

“He’s a full teacher,” Nezu continues easily, “after the public found out that he had these limitations from that fight, the they didn’t believe he could protect them as he once has. It was a forced retirement, more or less, but he still helps out a lot with activities for our Heroics students. He just doesn’t do very much public Hero work. Truthfully, it gave Yagi-San more time to focus on... other things.”

“His successor,” Midoriya whispers in understanding.

Shota doesn’t know what that means, but Tsukauchi and Nezu both snap their attention to the boy.

“You know about that?” Tsukauchi asks seriously, and all Midoriya does is give the faintest of nods as he bites his bottom lip.

Nezu and Tsukauchi share a glance. Shota feels his irritation tick upwards at being the only one out of the loop—how this child from an alternate reality knew more than he did was beyond him.

Nezu’s eyes drift down to where Midoriya is still wringing his hands together, tugging nervously at his own fingers. The rodent’s eyes lift, and there’s an almost knowing in those black eyes.

“So those Quirk suppression cuffs are—” another quick nod from Midoriya that has the principal cutting himself off with a thoughtful tilt of his head. “I see.”

Nezu nods to himself, before baring his teeth in a challenging smile at Shota, “well, Tsukauchi and I need to have a word about all of this— Aizawa-kun, are you alright watching Midoriya-kun?”

“Yeah,” the man huffs.

“Wonderful!” Nezu grins, standing himself and ushering Tsukauchi up as well. They both walk towards the door, “we’ll only be a moment—”

“Ah, w-wait,” Midoriya calls as the two make their way to the door.

Both pause in the doorway, looking back at the child, even if Midoriya is staring down at his own lap, “I, um, I know this is a lot to ask, b-but could I maybe ha-have the cuffs off? I won’t do anything and... and Sensei can erase my Quirk if I do try anything—w-which I won’t! They just, well, I have some chr-chronic pain and it really,” the teen swallows, chewing on his bottom lip, “it hurts.”

Shota glances towards his colleagues, waiting to see who takes the bait. He doesn’t doubt Midoriya does have chronic pain if the scars decorating his hands and arms are any indication, but he really doesn’t expect Nezu to be the one to cave, “ah, of course! Apologies, Midoriya-kun.”

Tsukauchi hesitates for just a moment before slipping his hand into his pocket where he pulls out two keys, tossing them both at Shota. The underground Hero catches them using nothing more than instinct as they barrel at his face, shooting a halfhearted glare at the detective, who’s smiling smugly.

“Just like that?” Shota blinks when the answer catches up to him. He stares down at the keys in his hand, unsure. He’d expected more. More questions from Nezu—more hesitance from Tsukauchi. As bad as it sounds, Shota hadn’t expected instant agreement.

Was Shota missing something here?

“Just like that,” Nezu chortles. “Not to worry, Aizawa-kun. I really do doubt the boy will try anything, and if he does, you have full permission to handle him as you please. I’m sure he knows what you’re capable of. Now, if you will see to helping Midoriya-kun out of those suppresser cuffs, Aizawa-kun, the detective and I’ll return shortly!”

The door shuts after the detective and the principal, and Shota can’t help but glare at it. He hates being out of the loop, and it’s his biggest pet peeve when Nezu pulls shit like this. That cryptic, chaotic rat.

“Y-you can leave them on if you want, Sensei,” the teen’s whisper draws him from his irritation, and Shota’s heart drops into his stomach when the words register. Had the kid thought he was upset at the thought of freeing him, instead of the actual irritation he feels for his boss?

“No,” he drawls softly, already leaning over to try and find the keyhole he needs, “I’m sorry, Kid. I was just a bit lost in thought. It’s fine, really. We’ll take them off if they’re hurting you. I trust I won’t need to use my Quirk or my capture weapon on you, eh? Sorry you’ve had to wear them this long, if they’ve been hurting you.”

“I understand why. Better safe than sorry, right?” Midoriya watches as Shota leans forwards to slip the first key into the hidden keyhole. It’ll deactivate the cuffs, and then Shota will be able to use the second key to unlock them and release him. “I am a villain here.”

“Deku’s a villain here,” Shota corrects as he finally unlocks the cuffs. Midoriya is quick to draw his hands to his chest where he rubs at his wrists with a wince. “You’re not, Midoriya-kun. You just happen to share a name and a face with him. Now, here, let me see your wrists.”

It surprises Shota when the kid doesn’t hesitate at all, just offers up his wrists for Shota to inspect. They’re raw and inflamed, and Shota almost winces at the sight. He can imagine the pain the kid must be in, especially after hours of the handcuffs holding his wrists in place and rubbing the skin raw.

The underground Hero takes both of the boy’s hands into his own hands and carefully massages his thumbs into the old scars. Midoriya tenses briefly before relaxing under the careful touch. Shota feels almost sick when he notices the awe sparkling in Midoriya’s green eyes.

“How’d you get hurt so bad, anyways?” Shota can’t help but ask. These are some serious wounds, even healed. It’s cause for concern, really. Shota can even make out that a healing Quirk was used and they still look like this.

“Destructive Quirk,” Midoriya offer with a weary smile. “I break my bones a lot when I use it— needed surgery after the Sports Festival and everything. I have more control now, but it was bad for a while.”

“And I haven’t helped with this? I mean, the me from your reality.”

“You do help,” Midoriya shakes his head, eyes watching Shota’s thumbs press into his muscles. “You try your best, but there are nineteen of us, and we’re...” the teen bites his lip, smiling sheepishly, “a bit of a handful?”

“Handful or not, I clearly don’t try hard enough,” Shota fires back, gesturing to the boy’s wrists with a jerk of his chin, “that, or your reality’s me sucks at his job. There’s gotta be an alternative somewhere to you breaking your bones when you try to use your Quirk. And, speaking of, I’ve gotta ask— strictly for my own curiosity— if your Quirk was still this destructive by the time you hit high school, did you not have any Quirk counselling, or Quirk training to try and get this under control growing up?”

The boy looks away guiltily, and Shota almost stops massaging. He lets the silence carry on for a second before taking a slightly sterner tone he hopes that Midoriya's Aizawa uses too. That no-nonsense tone that demands an answer, “Midoriya-kun.”

“No,” the child shakes his head, “I’m a... late bloomer.”

Shota lets that sink in, trying not to let anything show on his face.

“How late?” Shota narrows his eyes, thumbs pausing as he waits for an answer.

For a second, Shota’s worried about the Deku of their reality suddenly manifesting a highly destructive Quirk that would only add to how dangerous he is. But, if this Midoriya already had a Quirk, then theirs would too, right? If he had a Quirk, at least. There hasn’t even been a whisper of Deku having any sort of Quirk, and his records were still the same: diagnosed Quirkless.

The x-rays on his file of his pinky-toe joint don’t lie—it would be a literal miracle for Deku to develop a Quirk. Shota doesn’t know how one can have a Quirk while the other is Quirkless, but he also doesn’t know how there can be two Midoriyas in the same reality. Best not look to closely, lest he give himself a migraine in an attempt to understand.

He should just be happy their Deku is Quirkless still—Shota can’t imagine someone like him having a Quirk too. That would probably mean the end of mankind entirely or something.

The teenager’s face contorts to a grimace that draws Shota away from his thoughts, “I, um, t-the day of the Entrance Exam...? It was a bit of an ah... a forced manifestation, I suppose?”

Shota can already see it—this bright young face with a literal new Quirk stepping into that arena. Assuming his Entrance Exam wasn’t much different than theirs, Shota sucks in a breath as he paints a picture in his mind, “don’t tell me you went for the—”

“Zero-pointer?” Midoriya gives a pained laugh that’s accompanied by an almost cheeky smile, “I won’t tell you then, Sensei.”

“Have I ever told you you’re a brat?” Shota huffs out, unable to stop the small smile threatening to grace his face. It’s wiped away as fast as it appears when a thought hits him. He stills completely, lifting his eyes to watch the teenager. “Midoriya-kun. I don’t... I don’t know, do I?”

The teen looks away again, and Shota forces his thumbs back to work when the boy gives a halfhearted attempt to tug his hands back. Shota looks down at the damaged wrists in his hold, thumbing over some of the worst scars. He already has a sick feeling in his stomach that he doesn’t know this very important detail about Midoriya in the teenager’s reality—that this happened because he didn’t know and never really helped.

He stares until a soft voice breaks the silence, “no, Sensei, you don’t.”

Shota gives a careful nod, taking care to not let any emotions flicker in his expression, “I see.”

They settle into silence once again, Shota rubbing carefully over the teenager’s wrists, as Midoriya watches intently. The teen studies Shota’s rotations as his features slowly soften, the pain ebbing away as he continues. Finally, when Shota’s sure he’d given most of the scarred tissue and swollen joints enough attention, he pulls his hands away.

Midoriya pulls his hands back when Shota’s grip loosens, and he stares in awe at his hands, “they don’t hurt as much anymore.” The boy smiles brightly, jabbing his own thumb against the swollen joint in a way that makes Shota wince. “Thank you, Sensei.”

Shota waves a dismissive hand tiredly, “let me know if they act up again. Chronic pain is a bitch, but that doesn’t mean you have to suffer with it."

Midoriya giggles, and it’s then that Shota realizes he probably shouldn’t be cussing. Midoriya isn’t his student—or, he is, but he’s not... he’s not Shota’s directly. He decides that it’s a problem for Midoriya’s Aizawa to deal with, assuming they’re relatively the same, at least. Besides, the kid’s a teenager—he's probably heard much worse.

“It’s a little strange talking to you in this context,” Midoriya offers softly.

Shota lets his head lull in the direction of the teenager, noting how Midoriya has curled up in his chair, knees drawn up to his chest and arms wrapped around his legs. He looks tired.

It’s probably got to be nearing late morning now, and Shota just hopes Nezu gave Hizashi a heads up to make sure the students were up and in class. He hopes someone covers his class, but he has a suspicion that Nezu has something in the works.

1-A shouldn't be left without supervision, and that’s something the entire staff knows.

“Oh yeah?” Shota hums lightly.

The kid gives a nod, before turning his head so his cheek is balanced on his knee. “I feel like I know more about you then you know about me s-since I’m different here, but you... you’re mostly the same. You really are like my Aizawa, just... without me, I guess.”

Shota doesn’t know why hearing that makes his heart ache.

Why seeing the teenager wilt, with that tiny defeated frown curving his lips as he stares almost unseeingly at the wall has his heart going out to the poor kid. He can’t even begin to understand what’s probably going through the kid’s head, but it makes something unpleasant coil in his stomach.

He desperately wants to fix this for the boy, but there’s literally no way. They don’t know anything in the grand scheme of things, and if Midoriya was hit with a Quirk in his reality that sent him here, they have no means to even figure out how to counter it, or get information on the Quirk.

Hopefully they’re working on it on their end.

The silence is depressingly loud, and though Shota knows there’s not much he can do to help Midoriya, he can help distract him, “what’s your Aizawa like?”

“He’s the best,” Midoriya doesn’t even take a second to think, and Shota curses the fondness flooding his chest, “he’s really scary sometimes, but I think it’s just for show. He’s actually a really good teacher; he’s always there when we need him, and he helps us with our Quirks and keeps us all in line—didn't let Kacchan get me on the first day of school, even when he didn’t think I belonged in his class. I think that’s when I knew he was a good guy. He’s weird too, but in a good way— ah, I hope that doesn’t come off as rude—”

“You’re fine,” Shota snorts in amusement, “I’ve been called worse.”

Midoriya lets out a little laugh, finally looking back towards the Pro, “he pretends not to like us, I think, but we all know he cares. He’s still scary, but we all trust him. He was willing to die for us at the USJ, and-and he really did almost die. He got hurt really badly.”

There’s a distant look in the teen’s eyes, but Shota doesn’t draw attention to it. From the sound of it, their USJ incident was a lot like Shota’s own. He does wonder how Midoriya’s interference on either side curved the situation, but he thinks it’s probably better to not bring it up.

“I think...” the boy continues after a second, looking at Shota before ducking his head, “he’s the first teacher I ever really trusted, which is why I... well, why I came looking for you. I knew you’d help me. He always helps.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t help you,” Shota offers, swallowing down the lump in his throat.

“You did,” the boy laughs, gesturing to the station interrogation room. Shota fails to see how this has been helpful to Midoriya, but he doesn’t dare refute it. “And I would’ve done the same thing if I was in your position, Sensei. It was logical, wasn’t it? Your Midoriya Izuku is a villain, so you followed your instincts and arrested me. I don’t blame you for that—I was scared, yeah, but it was... a misunderstanding.”

“That doesn’t make it right,” Shota huffs, “you are innocent and you still spent hours in cuffs. You tried to tell me, but I didn’t listen. We didn’t listen. There’s nothing logical about interrogating a minor until he has two panic attacks that could’ve been avoided when all he’s doing is asking for help.”

“I cry a lot anyways,” Midoriya offers simply, like that makes up for their brash approach that had thrown his mental stability out the window. The teen shoots Shota a watery smile as he continues, “besides, Sensei, we both know villains lie. You couldn’t be sure in the moment. I'm glad you didn’t trust me at first, if I really was your Deku, you could’ve gotten hurt. You always tell us to follow our instincts, don’t you? It can’t be right for us to do that but wrong for you to.”

“You know,” Shota drawls, choosing to ignore the teen’s defense of their action, “it’s weird for you to turn my own words around on me when I’ve never actually taught you. Can’t say I like it— you’re definitely a Problem Child, aren’t you?”

Midoriya lets out a loud, surprised burst of laughter. He ducks his head bashfully, “my Aizawa-Sensei calls me his Number 1 Problem Child. I’m still not sure if it’s endearment or genuine disbelief.”

“That,” Shota grins sharply, finding the humor in the teen’s words, “sounds about right.”

Midoriya let out another bout of giggles. Shota tries really hard not to let his manic grin soften to a regular smile, but he knows he fails.

Midoriya lets out a small huff when his laughter subsides, and he glances away thoughtfully, “I sorta miss my Aizawa, but it feels silly to because you’re right here. I’m really glad you’re here, even if you’re not really my Sensei. I don’t know if that makes sense.”

“There’s nothing wrong with missing your teacher,” Shota tells him seriously, “this is frankly a pretty fucked up situation, and I’m so sorry you’re stuck here away from your reality. I’m glad I can be a stand-in for you— I want you to know you're not alone, Midoriya. I’ll make damn sure of that while you’re here. You may not be my student, but you are my student.”

Shota blinks as he tries to process that sentence. It had made more sense in his head, and he’s not even sure the emphasis he tried to force into it had saved it. He feels his face twisting like he’d eaten a slice of lemon the longer he thinks about it.

Midoriya chokes on a laugh, “that makes zero sense at all, but I understand it completely.”

Shota rolls his eyes, letting out an amused exhale of ‘brat’ under his breath.

Midoriya snickers to himself before he quiets down. He’s silent for a second until, “thank you, though.”

When Shota looks back towards him, the teen is hiding a smile between his knees. His expression is soft and childish, and just so grateful. He looks so young, and Shota is once again reminded that these students are just children.

“So,” Shota leans back in his chair, eyes lighting up with playful mirth, “I’m going to assume the teachers are all mostly the same in both realties. Who’s your favorite?”

“I-I can’t answer that!” Midoriya squeaks, covering his face with his hands. “That feels like it could be offensive—they're your co-workers, u-uh, probably... I don’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings.”

“It’s not,” Shota hides his smile in his capture weapon, “it’s not like I’ll ever be able to rat you out to your teachers. Besides, it’s not offensive because technically, we’ve never taught you either. Can’t be upset by the ranking of a student they’re never met let alone taught. Being offended would be illogical.”

“Well... it feels weird to say you to you,” Midoriya whines, a blush crawling up his cheeks and all the way to his ears. “Just because of that, I’ll say Present Mic! He teaches English here too, right? He's definitely one of my favorites! I love his class!”

“Mic, huh?” Shota snorts, “that’ll definitely go straight to his head. No need to inflate his ego anymore.”

“That’s mean, Sensei,” Midoriya huffs a laugh. “Present Mic is really cool though! He’s always been one of my favorites! I love his radio show if—er, if he has that here. I used to listen to it when I was little! Plus, his Quirk is really cool. He mentioned that he had his Quirk when he was born, and I can only imagine that was pretty hard to control as a baby. It really is amazing what he can do with it.

“Then there’s all the pitches and frequencies he can do with just his voice—how he can throw his voice around to emulate something or someone and make it sounds like it’s coming from a different distance and direction. So useful! And, I especially think it’s cool how he can do it without hearing! Not to mention his cool support gear—”

Shota blinks, suddenly uncomfortable at the in-depth analysis.

Maybe Deku and Midoriya were more similar than he thought.

He reels in the thought, and tries to swallow down his nerves.

Although Shota knows, realistically, this is nothing more than a starstruck fanboy analysis, he can’t help the stone settling in his stomach. This isn’t some random analysis by some random person. This is an analysis of Hizashi by someone who looks and sounds like Deku.

It’s hitting a little too close to home, and no matter how much Shota tries to swallow down the fear, he can’t. He knows it’s Midoriya he’s talking to, a Heroic student, but this is exactly how Deku takes Heroes out. And he’s been talking about Hizashi.

Shota draws in a calming breath.

He knows this is Midoriya. It’s not Deku. But it’s still scary. It’s still unsettling. Analysis like this can be so dangerous, and it's terrifying that Midoriya seems to possess the skill too, even if he’s not using it to harm.

“Are you sure you’re not Deku?” Shota asks drily when he finally calms his raging heartbeat. It’s meant to be a joke to ease his own worries, but it’s no surprise when it backfires spectacularly.

“No!” Midoriya jolts in fear, and Shota instantly feels bad. “I’m not! I promise, I-I'm sorry, I—I didn’t—”

“I’m kidding,” Shota frowns, leaning back in his chair as he makes a mental note to not do that again, “sorry, that was insensitive. I know you’re not, Kid; I was just... surprised. No one knows that Mic’s nearly entirely deaf. Not even most of the teachers.”

“Oh,” Midoriya breathes, wide eyes watching Shota cautiously, “it’s not, um, I don’t know. I doubt my classmates have realized, I just sorta pieced it together, I guess. I mean, he’s always wearing his headphones, so I assume there’s some sort of hearing support in there, and... and I’ve seen you and Yamada-Sensei using JSL—you're both fluent in it, right?”

“We are,” Shota cocks an eyebrow.

“It just makes sense,” Midoriya continues after one last suspicious look at Shota, “you are married, after all. You’d need to be able to communicate at least a bit with each other if his wasn’t wearing his support gear or... well, I assume he must wear hearing aids at home and out of costumes, right? Well, no matter, my point still stands—”

And, what?

What the fuck?

“What do you mean?” Shota’s mouth has gone dry. How does... how does Midoriya know that? Their marriage is the closest kept secret.

Information like that is dangerous, and to know that Deku—no, Midoriya, because they clearly are not the same person even if they look, think, sound the same (but still, it sends sparks of panic through his entire being that Deku knows he’s married to Hizashi, dear Lord).

He knows it’s unfair to lump the villain and the teenager before him into the same category, but it’s so hard not to. They are literally the same person just... somewhere along the line Deku turned to villainy, while Midoriya turned to Heroics.

Shota somehow manages to reign in his frantic heartrate, blinking slowly at the teenager.

He’s still shocked—this is something that only their parents and families, their close friends and the Yuuei staff know. That’s it. They keep this secret guarded. They don’t wear wedding bands, and all their intimacy is strictly behind closed doors. They’re careful, and don’t take unnecessary risks.

Shota doesn’t know the Aizawa from Midoriya’s reality, but if they really are the almost the exact same person, he knows his marriage would also be closely guarded. They may not have a Deku in their world, but other villains are just as dangerous when it comes to personal and sensitive information.

So to reiterate, what the fuck?

“What?” Midoriya squeaks, rearing away from Shota frantically. “Oh,” he breaths, “oh no, a-are you and Mic-Sensei n-not together here? Th-that's probably so awkward for you! I’m so sorry! Oh God, I need think before I speak— I'm sorr—”

“Stop,” Shota groans, letting his head fall back so he can glare up at the ceiling. Midoriya’s jaw snaps shut, teeth audibly clinking together as he does so. “Stop for a second. You’re fine, Midoriya— and for the love of all things holy, please stop apologizing for everything. You’re not on trial anymore, we believe you’re not from here.”

“Oh,” the child breathes out, and when Shota glances back towards him, he can see fear sparkling in his gaze, “I’m sorr— u-um, I mean, alright...”

“Now, I never said you were wrong,” Shota huffs, though his skin prickles anxiously. “But I also never said you were right. How did you come to that conclusion? Unless... unless someone said something to you?”

“No,” Midoriya shakes his head, swallowing roughly. “Um no one told us... we just sorta assumed? Some of us, at least. Not a lot of people know—um, most of my classmates don’t, I don't think. We figured it out ourselves.”

“Explain,” Shota huffs.

“Well,” Midoriya puckers his lips thoughtfully, “it wasn’t too hard to figure out—I mean, you wear a chain around your neck with your wedding band, o-or, I assume you do too, because my Aizawa-Sensei does. I saw it on the first day when he used his Quirk on me. And, he doesn’t interact with Present Mic often. It, um, it sorta looks like he doesn’t really like Mic-Sensei all that much, when they do talk, but it... um, it’s softer, I guess? It’s just different from when Aizawa-Sensei is annoyed with, like, Midnight-Sensei for example.”

“And, um,” Midoriya's cheeks flush brightly, “Mic-Sensei does spend a lot of time in your apartment above our dorms... I think you two live together more or less, and that Mic-Sensei's dorm in the teacher’s dormitories is more of a... formality? For appearance?”

“And you just figured this all out?” Shota’s honestly a little impressed. But then again, this kid is the same person as the Deku who’d watched Shota’s fighting style for no more than ten minutes and was able to pinpoint how his Quirk worked and his activation tells.

“Yes, uh, well, me and a classmate did,” Midoriya shrugs nervously.

“None of my students know,” Shota tells him, pressing his mouth into a line.

And Midoriya, the little shit, gives a cheeky smile, “you should ask Todoroki-kun what he thinks if you really believe that. I have a feeling that if he’s anything like mine, he probably has at least a suspicion that you and Mic-Sensei are together.”

Shota lets out a quiet hum, studying the teenager across from him.

Midoriya fiddles with his own fingers, nervously but nowhere near as rough as he’d been in the past couple hours, “so... is it, um, the same here?”

In answer, Shota tugs his capture weapon down enough to locate the stainless-steel chain around his neck, pulling it out so the golden ring on the end of it is exposed. Hizashi has an identical one, just he’d opted for a gold chain. Midoriya leans forwards to get a closer look, “that’s so pretty, Sensei.”

Shota lets out a snort of laughter as he tucks the chain and ring back into his costume. “I trust I don’t need to tell you it’s a secret?”

“I won’t tell!” Midoriya promises brightly, “t-thank you for trusting me with some-um, something like this. Considering... everything. I really appreciate it.”

“You figured it out yourself,” Shota shrugs easily, “it would be illogical to deny it when you’re right. I’m just glad you’ll keep it to yourself. Information like that getting out is dangerous—the more the villains know, the more ammunition they have.”

He doesn’t tell Midoriya that that’s exactly how Deku’s made a name for himself—he has a feeling the kid will just take the guilt of his alternate self’s actions. He’s already got enough on his plate at this point, no need to pile more on there.

“I understand,” Midoriya gives a serious nod. “I’m sorry I scared you with the analysis and the, uh, the mumbling. I just... analysis has been my hobby since I was a kid. I didn’t think I’d get a Quirk for a long time, but I just thought they were so cool. Sometimes I just can’t turn it off... It-it's creepy, I know—”

“It’s an occupation,” Shota cuts him off with a sigh. He makes a mental note to bring this up later and dig deeper, but for now, he lets it go. “I just wasn’t expecting it. It’s not creepy, kid. They’re good skills to have, observational and analysis skills— useful for Heroics— but you can’t just analyze someone aloud. You don’t know who could be listening.”

Midoriya looks thoughtfully surprised, “you... don’t think it’s creepy?”

Who the hell hurt this kid— Shota would just like to have a word.

It’s bullshit like that that what makes people break. That forces people into positions that don’t end well for anyone. There’s not a doubt in Shota’s mind that Deku had probably heard the same bullshit and snapped. Most aren't born villains— they turn to it.

“No,” Shota frowns, trying not to be annoyed that that’s what the kid chose to take from what he said. He really will have to revisit this, won’t he? This is obviously what Midoriya needs to hear right now though, so he shoves down the annoyance and continues, “there’s nothing wrong with analyzing, or observing, just, you have to do it safely. Be mindful.”

The boy stares, but doesn’t say anything. Shota thinks he might’ve broken the kid.

Shota blinks as the kid stares ahead of himself, lips moving like he’s speaking, but no words come out. He decides to let the kid go off—if it’ll keep him distracted then power to him. If anyone needs a second to decompress, it's Midoriya.

Shota lets his eyes fall shut as he leans back in his chair. He doesn’t stir until the door opens again and Tsukauchi and Nezu walk back in. Midoriya jerks to attention, swirling to look back at them like he'd forgotten they were here too.

“Everyone’s alive, good!” the rodent smiles as he settles back into his chair, Tsukauchi retaking his own as well. “Tsukauchi and I spoke, and we’ve come to some decisions.”

“Of course you have,” Shota tried not to rolls his eyes, slumping back. “Let’s hear it then.”

“Though we don’t know what this Quirk Midoriya-kun was hit with truly is, nor who the Quirk’s belongs to, we are running what we know through the Japan Quirk registry database in hopes of getting some answers. For now, all we can do is wait, unfortunately,” Shota gives his boss props for how he manages to sound sympathetic.

Midoriya nods solemnly, like he’d assumed as much. “Sorry I don’t remember more.”

Shota opens his mouth to put an end to that, but Tsukauchi beats him to it, “you’ve given us enough to run a fairly specific search, don’t beat yourself up about it, okay? None of this is your fault.”

The kid bows his head in a tiny nod, but doesn’t look convinced.

Nezu gives an agreeing hum before continuing, “since we have no means to get Midoriya-kun home, we’ve decided that the safest place for him to stay, for the time being, is at Yuuei. It’s best you’re somewhere where we can monitor the Quirk you’re under and keep an eye on you if there are any affects we’re unaware of. It also doesn’t hurt to have an Erasure Quirk on hand. Aizawa-kun, you don’t mind, no?”

“No,” Shota shrugs instantly, “it makes sense that he’d stick with me. I am his homeroom teacher in his reality. Plus, we have the space in both the 1-A dorms, as well as my apartment upstairs; whichever you’re more comfortable with. And, I’m sure you’d feel more comfortable being in a familiar setting, eh, Midoriya?”

“I-if it’s not too much trouble?” the teen mumbles, but Shota sees the relief in his eyes. “I... I trust Aizawa-Sensei.”

“I’m glad,” Shota can’t quite contain the fondness swelling in his chest from the soft admission. “I’d feel better having the kid close anyways. My students are afraid of Deku— though he hasn’t attacked directly, he’s been a part of attacks. They know what he does, and they’re rightfully scared. They’ll be wary at best, and hostile at worst. I don’t want any harm to come to Midoriya because they get scared.”

“I second that,” Nezu nods seriously. “I trust you to keep him safe, Aizawa-kun. He is a Yuuei guest, after all. 1-A is a bright group, but they have... personality. Please keep them in line.”

Midoriya snorts at that, before seeming to catch himself. He looks up at them quickly, eyes apologetic, but expression very much not, “s-sorry.”

Shota almost forgot Midoriya knows most of his students—they're his classmates in his own reality. He’s not sure if that’ll make this harder or easier.

“There really isn’t much we can do,” Tsukauchi offers the kid sympathetically. “Quirks like this generally aren’t permanent—but the duration is unknown. I’ve personally never heard of a Quirk like this, but I can only hope the Heroes in your reality are working to bring you back. I’m sorry there’s not much more we can do.”

“You’ve done lots,” Midoriya tells him with a thankful smile. To Shota’s mortification, the kid stands and arches into a formal bow, “I’m very grateful. Thank you all.”

“You’re very welcome,” Nezu grins. “Now, if that’s everything, it’s been a long night and I’m sure both Aizawa-kun and Midoriya-kun could do with some rest.”

“Of course,” Tsukauchi bows his head, “I’ll keep you up to date with what I find.”

“Likewise,” Nezu chirps, hopping down from his chair and heading towards the door without waiting for Midoriya or Shota to follow.

Shota’s not at all surprised to find a automated computer operated car waiting, but Midoriya is. The kid frowns thoughtfully as Nezu hops into the passenger's seat, before following Shota and climbing into the backseat.

The first little bit of the drive is quiet, and it’s also not surprising that Nezu’s the one to break the peacefulness.

“Just so we’re clear, for the time being, I think it’s best that we keep Yagi away from Midoriya-kun. Deku did a great deal of damage to All Might’s career, and as such, he harbors negative feelings. I would hope he wouldn’t be unjust towards you for Deku’s actions, but I can’t be certain of it. I understand you’re close with your reality’s All Might, but that simply won’t be the case here. Apologies.”

Midoriya looks saddened by this, but nods anyways. “I understand.”

Nezu’s smile softens in a way Shota doesn’t remember ever seeing, “I understand this is difficult, all things considered, and do trust that I’ve considered it all, but I wouldn’t place the restriction if I wasn’t positive it was necessary for your safety.”

Midoriya gives another nod, not saying anything.

Satisfied with that, Nezu then turns to look back at Shota, “Aizawa-kun, I’m not sure what you have planned regarding your roommate, but let me know if there are any accommodations to be made—”

“Kid already knows about Hizashi,” Shota waves dismissively, trying not to relish in the fact Nezu looks surprised. Talk about firsts. “Figured it out himself. Apparently, Mic and I aren’t as sneaky as we think we are in his reality. I can only hope the two of us are, but Midoriya has me doubting it.”

“Oh?” and now Nezu’s snickering.

Shota pretends he’s not offended by the fact a fifteen-year-old figured him out, even if he really is.

As it turns out, Midoriya’s student ID card does work—it just isn’t a programmed card for their specific security system, which causes the gate system overload and to show an error message. Nezu is completely fascinated as he overrides the system so Shota and Midoriya can enter, and even requests that Midoriya let him borrow the alternate reality ID card with the promise to return it promptly.

Midoriya’s brow furrows as he grants permission for Nezu to play study it.

Shota is just done by this point—setting a hand on the teen’s shoulder and directing him towards the 1-A dorms.

“Until you’re introduced to my 1-A and I can be certain none of them try to kill you, you’re unfortunately stuck in the apartment. Though, you’re more than welcome to take the guest room even when you’re comfortable with the students. I don’t mind where you choose.”

“Okay,” Midoriya yawns.

“Great,” Shota nods as he unlocks the building doors and ushers the kid to the elevator. “I’m tired too, so we’ll rest up for now. I’ll introduce you to the kids after school this evening, if you’re alright with that, or we can wait a little. Whatever you’re feeling up to.”

“Aren’t you supposed to be teaching now?”

“Mic’s covering for me,” Shota waves it off, rubbing at his eyes as they step out of the elevator. “You can borrow some of my clothes for now to sleep in, and later I’ll find you some clothes in your size. Probably Yuuei uniforms, which I’m sure you’re familiar with.”

“Y-you don’t have to—”

“You wanna wear the bunny suit to bed?”

“B-bunny—this is my Hero costume!”

Shota pauses, glancing down at the kid’s attire. He can kinda see it. Sorta. He won’t pretend to understand the boy’s costume, it probably looks better when it’s not torn and dirty. Hopefully. “What’s with the bunny ears?”

“They’re not—” the kid groans, “I’d appreciate clothes to sleep in, Sensei. Thank you.”

Shota shrugs, leading the kid into the apartment and down the hall to the bedrooms. He pushes open the guest room door and gestures the kid in, “I’ll be right back.”

He finds an old pair of sweat pants that probably never fit him, as well as steals a new promotional shirt from a box that Hizashi ordered to advertise his radio show. He knows the blonde won’t mind, and since Midoriya’s a fan, he figures it’s two birds with one stone.

The kid is perched on the bed when Shota pauses in the doorway. "My bedroom is down the hall, last door. Come find me if you need me. Help yourself in the kitchen, Mic will be back at the end of the school day. Please stay in the dorms, preferably the apartment. Bathroom's across the hall..."

Shota pauses, trying to think of anything else he needs to explain. He comes up short, running a hand through his hair as he tosses the clothes, which Midoriya is ill prepared to catch, directly at the unsupecting teen. He eyes the kid before humming out a simple demand of: “Sleep.” and promptly shutting the door on the kid.

God he’s tired.

Chapter Text

Tuesday, Alternate Reality

By some divine power’s interference, Shota manages to get a solid seven hours of sleep from the time he flops into bed, to the time he stirs. He’s slept for seven hours, but it still doesn’t feel like enough. It never feels like enough.

It feels like he hit the pillow after changing out of his costume and he was out like a light, yet at the same time, it feels like he only fell asleep moments ago.

He honestly would’ve slept longer too, if it weren’t for movement in the corner of the room.

Shota’s always been a light sleeper—so he’s quick to jolt up when something bumps against the closet door in the corner of the room; groggy mind making a feeble attempt for the capture weapon he’d deposited on the floor before flopping into bed.

“Aye!” comes a surprised yelp, “sheesh, Sho, it’s just me. Tripped on your boot and bumped the door by accident. Sorry I startled you; I know you need the sleep. Nezu said you were at the station working on a high-profile case when he asked Nem and I to take over your class.”

Hizashi.

Of course it’s just Hizashi. It’s always Hizashi. Who else would it be sneaking around in their bedroom?

Midoriya—it could’ve been Midoriya.

He knows its probably unlikely that the kid would’ve just come into the room. He seems polite enough; probably would’ve knocked and given Shota a second to orient himself.

But still.

It could’ve been an emergency or something.

Shota draws in a shaky breath at the thought and silently thanks the universe that it was Hizashi and not the kid in the room. God, it would’ve scared the shit out of the teen if he’d been coming looking for Shota for something and Shota panicked in his groggy state and caught him in his capture weapon. Again.

And, the upsetting part of that is, even after just meeting the kid, he knows Midoriya would probably apologize for disturbing him, even though Shota had explicitly told him he could. He knows the kid wouldn’t be offended in the least if it did happen— startled and scared, definitely, but Shota just has the worst feeling that the boy would find some way to defend him against his own actions.

Shota would still feel like an asshole though.

It could’ve been traumatizing for the poor kid, so Shota can’t help but being relieved it really was Hizashi. He wouldn’t even feel bad if he accidentally tied up his husband. Far better than scaring the skittish doppelganger of Japan’s current most feared villain.

Shota reaches a hand up to rub at his tired eyes before letting his fingers raise higher to card through his own sleep mussed hair. He groans into the room and really debates flopping back down and trying to fall back to sleep, but ends up kicking his legs over the edge of the bed instead, “’s okay. ‘m sorry.”

“What’s got you so on edge?” Hizashi has turned towards him now, his brow furrowed in concern.

Shota takes a second to clear his head, trying to wipe the sleep from his eyes once again.

He digs the heel of his palm into his eye before dragging down to scratch idly at the scar from the USJ subconsciously.

He tries not to think about catching Deku’s eyes just seconds before the teenager leaned over to Shigaraki, speaking calmly to the villain as he gestured to Shota uninterestedly. It was all in the blink of an eye, which was followed by Deku promptly disappearing through those Quirk portals after sealing Shota’s fate and giving Shigaraki an upper hand in the fight.

Shota’s not sure he’ll ever forget the teen’s crooked grin and the mock salute he’d thrown in Shota’s direction before stepping through the portal and disappearing from sight as Shigaraki rushed him, prepared to take him out using whatever insight Deku had offered up.

He takes a second to differentiate the teenage from the USJ and the one currently asleep in their guest room, as hard as if feels to do so.

Viewing them as the same person will only hurt everyone in the long run, and honestly, Midoriya doesn’t deserve it. He knows they’re different people, from different realities, but it’s still so hard to look at Midoriya and not see Deku.

“Shota?” Hizashi is now at his side, a hand on Shota’s thigh, while his other lifts to swat at where Shota’s still scratching the scar. “Did something happen at the station? Nezu said it was high priority, but... you only rub at your scar when you’re thinking the USJ and Deku.”

“No,” Shota drops his hands to his lap as if he’d been scolded, the hand that had been pressing into his cheekbone settling over Hizashi’s hand on his leg so he can curl his fingers into Hizashi’s. “Nothing happened. Nothing... nothing bad, at least.”

“But something did happen?” Hizashi questions quietly, and all Shota can manage is a nod.

“Something did,” he gets out in confirmation after a second, “and... I don’t know how you’re going to take it, but I need you to try and take it well.”

Hizashi opens his mouth the respond, but it snaps shut just as fast. He stares at Shota, brows furrowing as his lips curl downward in a small frown. Finally, Hizashi seems to find his voice again, “what happened?”

Shota thinks about telling Hizashi now—just blurting it out without beating around the bush— but he doesn’t know how his husband will react to that. It sounds crazy, honestly, and he sorta doesn’t think Hizashi will even believe him unless there’s some proof. Unless he sees it for himself.

Hell, Shota probably wouldn’t believe it either if he hadn’t seen the ID card (both at the station, as well as when Nezu had tried it on the gate where it had come so close to actually granting entrance), and heard the kid talking about his own reality that was different but just so similar at the same time.

And if that didn’t already seal the fact that this Midoriya Izuku was not their Deku, then watching how the kid broke down into not one, but two, heartbreakingly distraught and lost panic attacks surely would. Villain or not, no one would be able to act such raw emotion.

Shota knows he has to be careful with this.

Though Hizashi hasn’t come face to face with Deku—the teen had been long gone when All Might and the teachers finally made it to the USJ that day— he’d seen the aftermath of it. Had sat at Shota’s bedside after he’d been left within an inch of his life. All Might isn’t the only one who harbors negative feelings for the kid.

Shota stands, stretching out his back before holding a hand out for Hizashi to take. The blonde eyes it suspiciously before taking Shota’s hand and letting the dark-haired Hero tug him up. Shota sees the confusion in his eyes, but he’s glad Hizashi trusts him enough not to say anything just yet.

Shota leads the blonde down the hallway before pausing outside the guest room. Hizashi just looks confused as they pause outside the door as Shota’s second hand settles on the door knob.

It’s no surprise that Hizashi doesn’t have a clue that there’s someone else in the apartment. It’s not like they have many guests, and with the door usually always shut, no one would even think to go in unless they specifically needed something, and there’s no way Hizashi would need anything from the room considering the only things in there are the furnishing Nezu had put in when Heights Alliance came to be.

Shota drops Hizashi’s hand, lifting a finger to his lips in a silent ‘shh’ gesture that Hizashi absolutely hates. The blonde bristles in annoyance, and Shota sees him gearing up to vocalize his annoyance in the way he usually does, but the Voice-Hero seems to decide to heed the warning instead.

Though, in usual Hizashi flare, he does blow out an annoyed huff as he crosses his arms over his chest.

Curiosity outweighs the annoyance easily though when Shota finally turns the handle and eases the door open. The blonde’s eyebrows furrow as he leans into the room, before they shoot up in surprise when he spots what’s out of place.

The room is silent besides the small, evened out breaths of the sleeping teenager. Shota peeks in enough to see the blankets on the bed rising and falling in pattern with the slow breaths. You can’t really see Midoriya besides the tufts of green curls barely seen at the head of the bed.

Shota’s glad to see the kid’s supposed Hero costume folded as neatly as the torn fabric can be, settled on the desktop in the corner of the room. He’d half expected to see the clothes Shota had given him there instead, but it’s both heartwarming and genuinely terrifying how much the teen trusts him.

“Shota...” Shota glances to where Hizashi is still taking in the kid, “who is—”

“Midoriya Izuku,” Shota whispers back bluntly, preparing for the worst. He winces as Hizashi whips around to face him, face dropping first into shock, then momentary fear before settling on fury. The blonde whips back to face the sleeping teenager, lips pressed in a scowl.

He’d known that Hizashi would piece the civilian name to the villain name just as fast as Shota had.

“Dek—”

Shota’s quick to slap a hand over Hizashi’s mouth before he can get the name out, his own Quirk glaring into at his husband. He chances a glance to where Midoriya has stirred faintly at the noise, but not woken up. His breathing is still slow and deep, so Shota’s fairly sure he’s still in a deep sleep.

He’d hoped that seeing the kid asleep, innocent and not trying to kill them, might’ve eased the news, but that was clearly a miscalculation.

Hizashi is glaring back at him just as fiercely to the point Shota thinks Hizashi might actually bite him, except he’s also looking at Shota like he’s lost his mind. Shota blinks, letting his own Quirk fall, but he doesn’t release his hand from the blonde’s mouth.

“Shut up,” Shota snarls quietly, before levelling his voice. “There is an explanation if you’ll let me talk. This is not what it looks like Hizashi, think rationally. I will explain everything, just not right here. He’s had a shit time and if you think I needed the sleep, the kid definitely needs it.”

He doesn’t pull his hand away until Hizashi gives a slow nod, though his eyes are still hard and he’s watching Shota like he’s insane. Maybe he is, who knows?

Hizashi licks at Shota’s palm, and the black-haired man scowls at the childish action as he rips his hand away from Hizashi’s face. He wipes his hand dry on Hizashi’s shirt, shooting him with an unamused glare, unsurprised to find Hizashi’s bright eyes glaring right back.

Hizashi doesn’t back down, that bright, challenging fury that Shota very rarely sees alit in his gaze. Though Hizashi is clearly pissed, he does keep his voice at a whisper as he hisses out his question through clenched teeth, “why the hell is there a villain in our guest room, Shota?”

“There’s not,” Shota refutes. “Please, Hizashi. You know I wouldn’t do anything stupid—”

“This feels pretty stupid, Shota.”

“—without good reason. I’ll remind you again, this is not what it looks like.”

“It looks like there is a villain on our school campus; there’s a villain in our home, Shota. Are you seriously going to tell me that’s not what this is? Deku is in our home. Do you have any idea how dangerous this is? What the hell are you even thinking— I know you’ve done some questionable things, Shota, but that kid tried to kill you. He tried to kill our students— he's a villain.”

“That’s not Deku, Hizashi,” Shota whispers, and he frowns as Hizashi rears back.

“What the hell does that even mean?”

“Look,” Shota rubs at his eyes, “let me explain before you come to your own conclusion without hearing all the information; don’t just condemn the kid without having all the facts. Now, let’s go to the kitchen, I’ll make you some tea and we’ll talk. I seriously don’t want to wake the kid up— he’s had a very rough night. Just... he's not who we know, Hizashi. Trust me.”

Hizashi’s shoulder square up like he’s going to keep fighting, but all at once he wilts.

The blonde frowns thoughtfully as he studies Shota’s face intently. The dark-haired man doesn’t know what his husband spots in his expression, but whatever it is has some of the fight draining from Hizashi’s tense body. Hizashi huffs a breath, as he looks away in what Shota can only call defeat.

The nod he gets in response is tiny, but honestly more than Shota was expecting.

Shota gives a nod of his own as he checks one last time to make sure the boy is still out before finally easing the door shut. He turns to head down the hall, but before he gets very far, Hizashi catches him by the arm, “listen to me though, if that kid tries anything, I’m going to burst his eardrums. I’m not kidding, Shota, I don’t trust him.”

“He won’t,” Shota assures softly. “Just let me explain.”

Hizashi gives a stiff nod as he lets his hand fall from Shota’s arm. The blonde glances back at the guest door before following Shota out to the main living space.

Hizashi sits at the table in the kitchen while Shota busies himself making tea.

The blonde is oddly silent; thoughtful as he watches Shota grab the mugs, tea bags and start the kettle. Every so often, Shota will see his husband glance down the hall like he’s ready for Midoriya to spring out from the shadows and kill them both.

Shota chooses to ignore it for now— Hizashi's wariness is good. Until he’s gotten an explanation, he should be cautious. Shota can’t fault Hizashi for being cautious when he doesn’t have all information. As far as Hizashi is concerned right now, there’s only one reality and that kid asleep in the guest room is the same person who’d attacked them countless times.

It would be illogical to not offer his husband some leeway until he’s been made aware of the situation.

Though if it continues like this after Hizashi’s been informed of Midoriya’s situation, Shota will put a stop to it. Midoriya is not a criminal, and he’ll be damned if anyone makes him feel like he is one any more than they already had at the station before figuring this whole mess out.

Shota can only imagine the damage that did to an innocent Heroics student seeking help in, what he assumed, was his own reality; searching out people you expect to be on your side and instead getting arrested for crimes you didn’t commit. That’s beyond fucked up, even if no one knew at the time. Everyone was in the same confusion boat.

As is, he’s already sure the kid will be returning to his reality with the trauma from those mistakes.

It doesn’t take long for Shota to prepare two mugs of tea to their liking. He grabs both and sets them on the table before plopping down in the seat across from Hizashi. The blonde is too busy watching the hallway to really notice, so Shota toes at Hizashi’s leg to get his attention.

“He’s not going to do anything,” Shota frowns as Hizashi’s attention slowly crawls back to him, a light frown on the blonde’s own face.

Hizashi squints at him before turning fully towards Shota as he wraps his hands around his mug, “you say that, but I can’t really believe you. He’s a criminal.”

“The kid’s asleep; I wouldn’t be surprised if he slept a good ten more hours.” Shota deadpans as he lifts his mug to his lips, “and that kid is anything but a criminal. Seriously, if I had any doubts about his character, he wouldn’t be here, Hizashi. I wouldn’t put you, or my students in harm's way and you should know that.”

“I do know that,” Hizashi’s face puckers up at Shota’s words. The blonde drags his hands down his face as he slumps back in his chair, “I have the utmost faith in you, and you know that but— but that’s Deku in there. Shota, this is insane; surely you know that?”

“I know it’s insane,” Shota sighs, leaning back in his own chair, “I know. Trust me, I know it’s insane, but you’re just seeing the tip of the iceberg here, ‘zashi.”

“Okay,” Hizashi huffs. “Okay, well, explain this to me then, Sho.”

And he does.

He tells his husband how he’d found Midoriya. Or, better yet, how Midoriya found him. He tells him of arresting the kid on the spot—disregarding everything he was saying because it really did sound insane. He tells Hizashi of the station, and Tsukauchi and Nezu, and that impossible ID card.

He leaves out some of the finer details for now, like the panic attacks— Shota refuses to use the kid’s emotional distress as any sort of convincing point, even talking to his husband.

He tells Hizashi of their alternate selves that apparently exist in a reality far from theirs but not all that different. He insists that Midoriya really is a 1-A student, even as Hizashi’s face pinches in disbelief. Shota wishes that he’d thought to keep Midoriya’s ID card as proof, but Hizashi will end up seeing it at some point or another, he’s sure.

He tells his husband how the kid had known things—things Deku could never. Specific things that you could only know if you really were a part of it. He doesn’t go into too much detail on that, not wanting to freak Hizashi out before he even actually meets the kid, but he expresses how spot-on Midoriya had been.

Hizashi listens dutifully, cradling his tea in his hands, but not drinking it. His eyebrows are furrowed as Shota speaks, and he’s really listening—probably picking Shota’s words apart as they go.

Hizashi is actually a very intelligent person under all the leather and boisterous personality—he'd been top of their class in school and he’s fluent in three languages, not to mention is capable of holding a conversation in a couple more, which in and of itself is remarkable. People don’t give him enough credit.

“That’s insane,” Hizashi offers when Shota’s finally finished. He doesn’t look as wary, but he still doesn’t look completely convinced either. It’s an eccentric story, even if it is the honest truth. “I just... I don’t even know how to really respond to this, Sho.”

“Yeah,” Shota agrees tiredly. He sips at cold tea, “I know it sounds crazy, ‘zashi, but it’s the truth. Deku would never be able to con his way through both Tsukauchi and Nezu. And I saw what that ID card did to the gate with my own eyes. That kid isn’t from here. I know you’ve never met Deku, but the kid in our guest room is not him.”

Hizashi is quiet for a long second, staring off into space instead of focusing on anything around them. Shota lets him wade through the information, finishing off his tea as he does so.

“Alternate realties though...” Shota looks towards his husband when Hizashi breaks the silence they’d settled into. “I do believe you, it’s just... this is— it’s, it’s—”

“Insane,” Shota offers drily. They’re using the word so much it’s starting to not sound like a real word anymore—but it’s still the only word that gives the situation any justice.

“Yeah,” Hizashi snorts. “Definitely insane.”

Hizashi pauses before finally sipping at his own cold tea, “it’s just hard to wrap my head around the fact that that kid, our Deku’s reality double, is a Heroics student. He’s a student at this very school in another universe somewhere. He’s a kid in your class where he’s from. Deku attacked this school. He attacked you.”

“They’re not the same person,” Shota shakes his head. “I mean, they are, in a sense, but they’re different. He’s a nice kid—I haven’t really figured him out yet, but from what I can see he’d be a good student to have.”

“I know, I know,” Hizashi reaches up to card his fingers through gelled hair. It’s at the point now where the gel is starting to lose its stiffness and strands are falling out of the updo and wilting. He’s in desperate need of a shower. “I get that. It’s just, it’s Deku. How’m I supposed to look at the kid and not see the villain who helped Shigaraki pulverize your head, ya’dig?”

“Just... meet the kid before you blacklist him, alright?” Shota rubs at his forehead with the knuckle of his thumb, “he’s got high expectations for us and he’d be devastated if any of us boycotted him for things he literally didn’t even exist in our world for. Deku’s actions are not Midoriya’s.”

“I hear ya,” Hizashi snorts, “I’ll give the kid a chance, but just know my threat still stands. One wrong move and his ears’ll be bleedin’, yo.”

“Reign it in, will ya?” Shota sighs. “He’d probably cry if he heard you say that. Wouldn’t shut up about you: how good of a teacher you are, your radio show, even your Hero career. It was almost cute—he got all stary-eyed and everything.”

He feels a little bad throwing Midoriya under the bus, and maybe a bit bad for digging into Hizashi’s weakness of hurting his ‘Listeners’ feelings, but it’s worth it when Hizashi turns to him in surprise, head cocked like a big, dumb golden retriever. “Really?”

Is it wrong of him to butter his husband up in hopes of easing the actual introduction between them later? Probably. Does he care? Not in the slightest. Whatever gets the job done. Besides, it’s all true. It’s not like he’s putting words into Midoriya’s mouth, the kid had literally launched into a full-blown worship rant about Hizashi.

Plus, he knows it’ll all go smoother if Hizashi already has a sense of Midoriya’s character. And Hero worship is about as far as Shota’s figured out at this point.

He has only known the kid for a couple hours.

“Oh yeah,” Shota manages a tiny smile, “his reality’s you made quite the impression on him. It’ll probably crush the poor kid if you threatened him.”

“You’re playing dirty now,” Hizashi whines, glaring halfheartedly at Shota.

The dark-haired man shrugs indifferently. No point defending himself when that’s exactly what he’s doing. They both know it, so it would be illogical to try. And Hizashi is one of the few people who’ll actually call him on his bullshit.

“Smh,” Hizashi pouts, “just for that, you’re on dishes duty while I go shower. And then you get to go pop in and show your kids that you’re alive. They were worried about your absence since you’ve never missed a day—not even after getting your face smooshed into the ground.

“I tried to tell them you were just caught up at the station, but then Kaminari convinced everyone that the only reason you were at the station and not at school was because you probably got arrested and couldn’t leave, so have fun with that one.”

“And you didn’t tell them I was working on something?” Shota frowns as Hizashi drains what’s left in his mug and slides it towards Shota’s own. They clink together softly, drawing Shota’s eyes down. The dark-haired man raises his gaze from the mugs again as Hizashi stands. “I’m literally a Pro Hero, what the hell would I be arrested for?”

“No idea, babe, I’m just the messenger,” Hizashi grins. He rounds the table and presses a quick kiss to Shota’s head, “I’ll be on my best behavior and shoot you a text if the little Listener wakes up.”

“I doubt he will,” Shota sighs, dragging his palms down his face, “I wasn’t kidding, he’s had a rough time. For his sake I hope he sleeps for a while. I can only assume reality jumping can have some negative effects on the body; I just hopes he sleeps them off.”

“Reality jetlag,” Hizashi nods solemnly.

Shota snorts in surprise, shaking his head at Hizashi’s antics.

“Go shower.” The man huffs, grabbing both mugs with one hand and shooing Hizashi away with the other, “I’ll wash these up, and then I’ll head down to check up on my gremlins. I guess I have to assure them I wasn’t incarcerated because my lovely husband didn’t think to plead my case.”

Shota turns to the sink as a cackling Hizashi disappears down the hallway.

It’s a few more hours until they see Midoriya.

Shota’s returned from being the responsible guardian he’s supposed to be, completely drained and wishing he’d chosen literally any other occupation then teaching. He leaves the dorm common area with a headache, and a newfound respect for these children’s parents.

How they’ve dealt with them for over fifteen years is a mystery to him, in the nicest way possible.

Why did he ever agree to being a temporary guardian for nineteen Heroic brats?

He’s not surprised to hear Midoriya hasn’t stirred at all after his hour with his students, even when Hizashi had poked his head into the room to check on him. The kid really was down for the count.

The two of them had had a nice quiet dinner of curry, making sure to set some aside for Midoriya for when he woke up. He’d probably be hungry; he hasn’t eaten since before Shota arrested him at least, and that was well over twelve hours ago by this point.

They’re at the table marking when Shota first hears movement down the hall, followed by the door easing open softly— that’s when Hizashi startles from his English assignments. Hizashi’s attention whips towards the hallway opening, leering to the side as if he could spot the teenager from his position. He can’t.

The two of them share a glance, but neither moves. Shota doesn’t want to crowd the kid, and Hizashi still holds that inkling of fear that Midoriya is actually Deku.

The bathroom door shuts, and Shota leans back in his chair. Hizashi has forced his attention back onto the assignments in front of him, but he’s no longer marking despite the narrowed eyes on the neat printing of Yaoyorozu’s essay. He’s waiting.

Midoriya is in the bathroom for a good ten minutes— enough time that Shota’s about to get up and check on him, but then the toilet flushes and the sink runs and not long after that, the bathroom door squeaks open.

Hizashi sucks in a breath as soft footsteps pad closer, but Shota just turns in his chair prepared to greet the kid and get the introductions out of the way.

He pauses before he can even open his mouth though.

The kid looks... well, bad.

He’s pale faced, but flushed bright red in the cheeks. He squints like the world around him in a raging sun and Shota can see flecks of pain in the kid’s eyes. He subtly holds his stomach and wobbles faintly as he steps. It’s overall concerning.

The tee-shirt lets Shota actually see the extent of the kid’s arms as well and it’s not a pretty sight. He’d thought the swollen wrists and hand scars were bad, but seeing the old scars and injuries that climb up the kid’s arms is horrifying. What the hell does that destructive Quirk even do to the poor kid? How has anyone let this continue?

Out of the corner of his eye, Shota sees Hizashi bristle too as his careful eyes settle on some of the worst scars visible. The blonde shoots him a look of concern that Shota can only reply to with a halfhearted shrug, and then Hizashi’s gaze is back on the teen, bottom lip drawn and being worried between his teeth.

Still, the Voice-Hero doesn’t draw any attention to himself, and the teenager doesn’t notice him.

Shota frowns as he turns fully towards the kid, “Problem Child?”

The kid jumps, and if that’s not a testament to his current state, Shota doesn’t know what it. The kid had been looking at them, hazy eyes on them, but almost unseeing. Like he didn’t process them as actual people in the room with him.

“Sensei,” Midoriya whispers, and there’s a faint slur to his voice.

Shota’s frown deepens as he takes the kid in entirely, “you okay?”

The kid’s dirty curls fall into his eyes as he bobs his head in a slow nod. His squeezes his eyes shut for a moment as he wavers in place. It’s quite the feat, almost falling over while stood in place. Shota’s about to get up and steady the kid when the teen slowly turns and pads softly towards the table, zeroing in on the last remaining chair.

Hizashi nudges the third chair at their table out with his foot, and Shota shoots him a thankful glance as the kid almost topples down into it.

“’m okay,” the boy eases down into the chair, lifting his hands to dig the balls of his palms into his eyes, “s’bright. Sorry.”

“You don’t look very okay, Problem Child,” Shota’s brow furrows, “we should probably take you down to see the nurse—”

“I don’t wanna bother Recovery Girl with this,” Midoriya gives a faint shake of his head that sets off a recoiling wince. Shota has to remind himself that Midoriya is a student at this school where he’s from, but Hizashi jumps in concealed surprise at the mention of their nurse. “She’s busy. Besides, I think it’s just... my body realizing it’s not in the right place, y’know? I was fine when I fell asleep.”

“So it’s an effect of the Quirk?”

The kid gives a thoughtless shrug before he shifts so he can cross his arms on the table top and settle his chin on his forearms. “It’s not that bad—I've had worse. At least nothing’s broken, right?”

And isn’t that worrying. Another red flag Shota knows he’ll never be able to leave well enough alone.

“If it is a side effect of the Quirk,” Shota starts slowly, shifting in his chair so he’s angled towards the child, even if Midoriya is tucking himself into a contorted pretzel sort of shape and doesn’t notice in the slightest, “we should probably monitor it. What’re your symptoms?”

“A migraine,” the kid offers softly without opening his eyes, “well, um, I think. I don’t know, I’ve never had a headache like this. It’s either that, or my head’s imploding— I really hope it’s not though. But besides that, I’m... kinda nauseous? And... my eyes hurt when I open them. And everything is just so bright. I’m s-sore—like, my arms hurt earlier, but... but everything hurts now.”

Shota narrows his eyes as he turns the symptoms over in his head, “you were throwing up in the bathroom just now, weren’t you?”

Shota’s not sure how the kid’s exhausted face manages to convey guilt in his state, but it does. And honestly, it’s all the answer he needs. He sucks in a breath and frowns deeply. Problem Child. Definitely.

“I thought I told you to come to me if you needed me?” Shota leans back in his chair, arms crossing over his chest as he eyes the kid. Midoriya’s forehead is cushioned on his forearms now, face hiding in the pit he’d created between his arms in an attempt to block out the light.

“Thought you’d be busy,” Midoriya croaks out, “sorry. I tried to sleep it off after I woke up, but then I felt very sick and I—I didn’t want to make a mess in your home. Sorry. Plus... I don’t think there’s much you could’ve done to help, Sensei.”

“Y’know, we wouldn’t have been mad if you did make a mess,” Hizashi finally speaks. Midoriya jolts up like he hadn’t realized Hizashi was even here, head jerking up so fast Shota thinks he’s given himself whiplash. “That’s definitely not something you can help and it’s not your fault, Kiddo, don’t apologize for it.”

“And especially don’t apologize for something that didn’t even happen,” Shota tacks on drily.

Shota feels like his words go straight over the kid’s head, since Midoriya is now staring wide-eyed at Hizashi. Hizashi looks startled at suddenly having the kid’s full attention. His husband shifts uncertainly, eyes darting between Shota and the teenager cautiously.

Shota fears for a second he’ll have to intervene, until the kid brightens considerably, “Present Mic-Sensei!”

Hizashi’s eyes widen in surprise, even though Shota had briefed him on this. He’d prepared his husband as much as he could, but no amount of warning and preparing could really make you ready for a Deku look and sound alike to beam up at you in unadulterated awe.

Shota had warned Hizashi that Midoriya wasn’t like Deku.

It hits Shota like a bus that Hizashi looks so shellshocked because this child recognized him so easily out of costume. It doesn’t happen often— Hizashi looks different out of costume and with his hair down. It’s part of the reason why he decided on such an out there Hero costume (and to embrace his adoration of leather). People don’t tend to realize they’re one in the same, because unlike most Heroes, Hizashi has created a whole Hero persona out of the more chipper and eccentric aspects of his own personality.

It’s probably terrifying that a Deku double had figured him out so easily.

He’s a bit surprised too, if he’s honest, but he knows more about Midoriya then Hizashi does. And Midoriya had known he and Hizashi were married, so as far as they know, Midoriya could’ve just pieced it together with what he already knows. Plus, who else would be in Shota’s apartment with him after hours?

That’s the thing though. Midoriya knows things—sees things. He really does have a knack for analysis and observation that very well could make him a threat. It did make Deku a threat, after all.

So, as surprising as it is that the kid knows him out of costume, it’s also really not.

Shota realizes a second to late that he and Hizashi have been quiet too long.

Midoriya breaks the silence, smile waning as he tugs at his own fingers nervously. “I’m very sorry to intrude in your home without your permission, Sensei. Aizawa-Sensei said it was alright, but... but it’s really not fair for you to be scared in your own home because of, um, because of me... I know it's probably difficult considering— considering everything that I-I... or, ah, w-what he’s done. Um, what Deku’s done. I understand if you’re not comfortable with me, uhm, staying here?”

Hizashi blinks as he absorbs the information before looking quickly towards Shota like the apology and empathy towards Hizashi’s situation is some sort of riddle with a hidden meaning. All the dark-haired man can offer in reply is a shrug, because he also doesn’t know what to make of the doppelganger.

The two may look and sound the same, maybe even think partially the same too, but Deku and Midoriya really are very different.

Shota just needed Hizashi to see that for himself.

“It’s fine, Lil’ Listener!” Hizashi grins as he finally lets his attention settle back on the slowly wilting teenager. The bout of energy had passed, leaving Midoriya reeling from the excitement in his unwell state. Shota doesn’t even know where the kid pulled the energy from anyways, he looks like he’s going to keel over any second.

Hizashi seems to notice the subtle shift too, because his voice lowers but keeps that bright edge when he continues, “I don’t mind you hanging here with us for a while, yo— it'll take some getting used to, sure, but I trust Eraserhead and he trusts you! I’m sure we’ll be buddies in no time, yeah?”

“You trust me?” Midoriya squeaks as he turns to glance at Shota with a similar awe in his eyes.

“Have you given me a reason not to?” Shota counters, cocking an eyebrow.

Hizashi reaches over the table to pat Midoriya’s shoulder, and it’s just such a trusting action that Shota thinks he falls even more in love with his husband in that moment. Hizashi is still scared—he can see it in his eyes, but he’s extending that arm to the kid because Shota’s vouching for him. “If Eraser didn’t trust you, you wouldn’t be here, Kiddo! Everything’s cool, ya’dig?”

Midoriya looks back at Hizashi as he pulls away before glancing at Shota once again. The teen’s expression softens and he manages a light nod as a tiny smile lifts onto his lips. “Thank you. F-for your hospitality and... um, and for trusting me.”

Shota flaps a dismissive hand, as Hizashi grins to the point Shota hopes he doesn’t start cooing at the poor kid. He should’ve known Hizashi would be completely and utterly weak against Midoriya’s charm. The soft, usually unwarranted apologies, and the thoughtfulness and the genuine kindness that no one in their right mind would associate with Deku.

“So,” Shota reigns in the conversation before Midoriya can apologize for anything else, “we ate while you were asleep, but something in the way you’re wincing at the mention of food right now tells me you probably aren’t interested in eating.”

The kid’s nose wrinkles in addition to the wince and he gives a nervous shrug. “I don’t think I could keep it down, Sensei. I don’t even have anything in me and I still feel really—” the kid swallows thickly, “sick.”

“Do you think you could stomach some tea then? The students have a really nice ginger tea in the kitchen downstairs. That might help settle your stomach?” Hizashi asks patiently, “or even just some water? You should drink something if you’re not going to eat. We’ll have to bring you to Recovery Girl if you get dehydrated; then we’d all get scolded.”

“Um,” Midoriya rubs at his forehead, and Shota wonders what kind of pain tolerance the kid has. “M-maybe some ginger tea? I don’t... know. I don’t want to be a bother, I can just... go back to sleep. I probably just need to orient myself. Hopefully.”

“Hizashi’s right,” Shota frowns, “you should drink something. And we talked about this: just because you’re in pain, doesn’t mean you need to suffer with it. We have Advil for a reason and I know for a fact a hot shower is known to help with a migraine. You do need to sleep it off, but you don’t need to do so without help.”

The kid stares at him with squinted eyes, before he deflates into his chair. The teen sucks in a breath, “showers help?”

“They do,” Shota nods, “heating and cooling packs will too, but I thought you might like to clean up as well. You look like you’ve been on patrol.”

“I was on patrol,” the teenager snorts as he drags a hand through his dirty green hair. “I didn’t realize I was so dirty— I mean, I think I got thrown into a wall, and I did wake up on the street. Um, sorry about your sheets in the guest room, I uh, I probably should’ve showered first...”

Shota swallows down an exasperated sigh, “I wasn’t worried about the sheets, Problem Child. It was just a fact. I thought you might want a shower, but you don’t have to take one.”

“Oh,” Midoriya blinks. “Um—”

“If you apologize again, I will make you run laps when you’re feeling better.”

The teenager’s jaw clicks shut, face contorting into a grimace as it vibrates his head. He reaches up to rub at his temples. “I w-would like a shower... um, if you don’t mind.”

“Perfect,” Hizashi stands, with a casual smile, “c’mon, Lil’ Listener, I’ll show you where everything is in the bathroom and how to work the shower; it can be a bit tricky, yo. And while we do that, Shota here will run downstairs to get you some ginger tea from his kiddos. Don’t you worry, they love to share!”

“Why do I have to run downstairs?” Shota drawls as he watches Hizashi usher the lagging teenager up to his still unbalanced feet. His hands hover like he’s prepared to catch him if he tips, but Midoriya keeps himself upright. The kid’s got a will of steel.

“They’re your students,” Hizashi snorts fondly. “It’ll be weirder for me to do it, and they’d probably think I was an intruder or something since I’m out of costume. C'mon, Sho! Do it for the Kiddo, look at this little face!”

“O-oh, um, yo-you don’t have to—”

“I’ll get the tea,” Shota huffs before the kid can finish, already standing and heading towards the door. “I really don’t mind, Midoriya, I was just teasing Hizashi for being demanding. He has a tendency.”

“You love it,” Hizashi scoffs dramatically as he leads the kid away, “while you’re down there, steal some of that delicious peach matcha tea Yaoyorozu has for me. She keeps giving me cups before class and now I’m addicted. It’s the bomb, ya’dig?”

Shota lets out an unimpressed hum, but despite the tone, both he and Hizashi know he’ll do as requested. He always does when it’s Hizashi asking.

And he knows Yaoyorozu adores when people enjoy her teas, it’s the only reason he’s entertaining Hizashi’s demand. She’ll probably be ecstatic to see Shota finally trying it since she’s offered it dozens of times and he always declines. “Uh huh.”

Shota returns after being caught by Iida and Yaoyorozu in the kitchen. His students greet him pleasantly, if not a bit surprised by his presence, as they ask if there’s anything they can help him with. It’s expected of the scion children.

The two are planning a study group for the rest of the students to participate in if they choose to, since there are a couple big tests on the horizon.

Shota gives a pleased hum as they inform him, before he rounds the table and beelines for the cupboard the kids dedicated strictly to tea (Yaoyorozu’s doing, he’s sure).

Yaoyorozu, as expected, brightens when Shota asks if he can have some of her teas, and he feels better when he walks away knowing he’d asked instead of just taken, even if he’s sure a couple teabags missing wouldn’t have even been noticed.

When he finally makes his way back upstairs, Hizashi is parked right back at the table, the end of his glittery red marking pen settled between his lips as he reads English essays.

Hizashi glances up out of habit, and grins widely when he sees the packages of not just peach matcha tea powder, but raspberry and vanilla as well. He’d asked for the peach, and had the other two selections shoved into his hands before he could decline. They’re all high-grade ceremony quality teas, and Shota doesn’t doubt they probably cost a pretty penny.

He might have to try a sip of Hizashi’s teas just to see what money tastes like.

Midoriya is still gone, but Shota doesn’t hear the shower running.

He shoots Hizashi a look of confusion, to which his husband smiles bashfully.

Hizashi had somehow managed to convince Midoriya to have a hot bath instead of a shower, which is probably for the best considering his balance isn’t quite up to par and they’d have more problems if the steam made the kid lightheaded while he was standing.

Last thing they need is for Midoriya to pass out. A concussion on top of everything else would just be the icing on top of the cake, wouldn’t it?

While the kid is in the bath, Shota gets to work preparing everything for the teas. He refills the kettle and grabs two mugs, the two they’d used earlier. He readies everything stopping just shy of turning the kettle on.

It’ll only take a couple minutes to boil when the kid’s out of the bath.

Midoriya isn’t in the bath long; soon he’s emerging from the bathroom with a fresh, fruity scent of Hizashi’s shampoo clinging after him. The tension in his body has eased a bit, but he still looks unwell. Pale and flushed, but now also looking exhausted.

He’d put back on the clothes he’d been wearing, and he even goes as far as to thank Hizashi excessively for the limited-edition radio merch. “I’ve never seen these, Mic-Sensei, I wonder if my Present Mic is coming out with a line like this! Thank you very much for letting me borrow it! It’s so cool!”

Hizashi shoots Shota a hidden dirty look when he finally spots the brand-new merch that won’t even be released for a couple months on the kid.

Shota snickers behind his hand as he waits for the kettle to boil.

The kid drinks the tea slowly, watching through squinted eyes as Hizashi marks the essays between sips of his own matcha tea. Shota has reclaimed his own seat, and is more or less just studying Midoriya, not that the kid notices.

The teenager manages to keep the tea down, even if there’s a few points where he recoils away from it like the scent makes him feel sick.

He still doesn’t bother to try eating any real food, even when Shota offers something easy to keep down like toast, or soda crackers. Shota doesn’t mind to much, he’s really just glad Midoriya managed to get something down. He’ll just make sure the kid eats something for breakfast tomorrow.

By the time Midoriya’s finished his tea, he’s pitching tiredly towards the table.

They send the poor kid off to bed with a gel cooling pack for the migraine, a dose of Advil and a glass of water for if he wakes up thirsty in the night. The kid disappears after bowing thankfully (mortifying yet again), and he’s down for the count once again when Shota checks on him half an hour later.

“He’s definitely not what I was expecting,” Hizashi hums when Shota returns from checking on the kid.

Shota can’t help the snort of laughter as he flops back into his chair, helping Hizashi pile up the essays. He can already see some not great marks, so some of the kids will definitely benefit from the study group, “I told you so.”

Wednesday, Alternate Reality

For the first time in a long time, Shota actually goes to bed with his husband and wakes up beside him in the morning. And, not only that, but Hizashi is the one who needs to get up first, and not him.

He’d gotten into contact with his agency after Midoriya was good and asleep, and with Nezu’s interference, had been given some paid leave to work on the confidential case that Nezu had insisted was priority. Though he’s not usually one for skipping patrol, Shota can’t argue that it's not a weight off his shoulder to not have to leave the Heroic student doppelganger of a villain alone in a Hero school.

He wants to keep an eye on not just Midoriya, but anyone who interacts with him too. Shota knows there will be some mixed feelings about his presence here, and he hates the thought of Midoriya taking the brunt of everyone’s dislike for Deku.

Hizashi though, unfortunately, still has his early morning patrol, so he rolls out of bed after pressing a sleepy kiss to Shota’s cheek and gets himself ready for his busy day of patrol and teaching.

The kid is awake when Shota finally stumbles out of his room.

“You’re up early,” he comments as he beelines for the coffee pot, pouring a cup and drinking it black. He savors the burn and bitter taste as he stares at the coffee pot for a second before turning to Midoriya and eyeing him carefully. “How’re you feeling this morning?”

“Much better,” the child chirps. “My head still hurts a bit, but besides that I’m good! And I’m always up this early. I usually go for my morning run around this time, but I wasn’t sure if I was allowed to go without you, so I did some sit-ups and lunges instead. All Might and I made a workout schedule that I try to follow every day.”

Of course, he’s one of those early morning exercise enthusiasts.

Shota really doesn’t know what he was expecting, but it should’ve been this. “Of course you do.”

Shota takes another gulp of his coffee as he tries to organize his thoughts. “You were right. For now, it would be better if you stuck close for a while—especially until you meet the students and we can gage their... reception of you— but besides that, Nezu will explain the guidelines he’s put in place for you today when we go see him before classes this morning.”

“That’s the only rule you have?” Midoriya cocks his head.

“Well,” Shota squints thoughtfully at the kid, “you’re my student in your reality, so I’ll assume the rules I’ve placed here match up decently to the ones you know. We could go over them, but I feel it would be a waste of time. You’re a smart kid, just use your common sense, okay?”

“Of course, Sensei!” Midoriya grins. Shota hides a smile behind the rim of his mug as the teen’s eyes light up along with the grin. “You don’t have to worry about me!”

He wants to tell Midoriya it’s not exactly him he’s worried about, it’s him he’s worried for.

Shota doesn’t think the gravity of this has really hit Midoriya yet—those he’s met in this reality thus far have believed him after some convincing. Not everyone will, and that’s dangerous. Deku is terrifying. He's a villain— and Midoriya is unlucky enough to be him, just on a different path of life.

“Well,” Shota sighs, dragging his fingers through his hair. He snags a knot from sleeping and works it out with his fingers, “I’m going to go get dressed and then we’ll go find you a uniform in roughly your size. There’s bound to be one somewhere in storage. I’m sure Nezu’s already working on getting you a fitted one, but you can’t make a very good impression in pajamas.”

The kid hesitates before nodding slowly.

“Good,” Shota finishes off his coffee, knowing damn well he’ll be getting another cup in the teacher’s office before classes start. “Why don’t you eat the curry we put aside for you last night, if you think you can stomach it, and take some more Advil before we leave to keep the remnants of that migraine under control.”

“Yes, Sensei,” Midoriya nods dutifully.

By the time he’s dressed in his Hero costume, sleeping bag tucked under his arm, Midoriya is just finishing up the curry.

It’s not hard to sneak out of Heights Alliance without being seen by the students. There’s a back door that Shota and Hizashi use when they don’t want to risk disturbing the students, and it makes for the perfect escape.

It’s still early enough that very few students are even in the school—since they switched to dorm life, they don’t have students arriving hours before school starts due to transportation issues.

Midoriya sticks to Shota’s side, but he looks to be taking everything in, probably trying to spot differences between his Yuuei and theirs. Shota would be lying if he said he wasn’t interested in that as well.

When they get to the supply closet, Shota digs through boxes as he tries to find a regular uniform in the kid’s general size, as well as a training uniform. He’s not quite sure if he’ll let Midoriya participate in anything yet, but better safe than sorry.

The kid looks relieved when he has a uniform in his hands, and it’s not something Shota can say he’s seen when handing a kid a uniform that will essentially be a second skin to them.

Their next stop is the washrooms so Midoriya can change into his uniform.

Shota feels a little better when the kid blends in with the rest of the students, but he’s still got a bad feeling about how this will play out. It’s hard not to have a bad feeling when he knows exactly how he, Nezu, Tsukauchi and Hizashi had all reacted to the kid’s presence.

The arrive at Nezu’s office next, and Shota frowns as he knocks on the door. As expected, Nezu’s chipper voice invites them in almost instantly.

“Ready?” Shota cocks his head in the kid’s direction.

Midoriya fiddles with his fingers and sucks in a breath nervously, “I know I saw Nezu-Sensei yesterday, but it sorta feels like I’m in trouble now, which is stupid because yesterday I was in handcuffs. I don’t know, there’s just something about going to the principal’s office that makes me nervous.”

“Welcome to my world,” Shota snorts drily. He doesn’t wait for Midoriya’s response, just pushes the door open and sets a hand on the kid’s shoulder so he can guide him into the office.

“Welcome!” Nezu chirps from behind the desk with a clap of his paws, “it’s very nice to see you again, Midoriya-kun, and I’m quite glad it’s under better circumstances then yesterday morning!”

“Good morning, Nezu-Sensei,” the teenager ducks his head, almost shuffling closer to Shota.

The man tucks his own face into his capture weapon as he leads them both to the two waiting chairs across from Nezu. Midoriya seems to be more skittish of Nezu then he is of Shota, and it makes sense when Shota thinks back to some of the things Nezu had said yesterday before they realized who Midoriya wasn’t.

He’d threatened an innocent kid with the most secure prison in all of Japan.

Honestly, how can Midoriya even look at them, let alone trust them after that?

“I trust you’re feeling better this morning?” Nezu smiles at Midoriya, angling his head towards the teen. “Aizawa-kun mentioned you were quite unwell yesterday evening. I can’t imagine reality hopping would be very kind to one’s body, but I’m sorry to hear you had such a poor time.”

“I feel a lot better,” Midoriya assures quickly, “Aizawa-Sensei and... and Yamada-Sensei were very kind even though I um, I know I make them nervous. Or, uh, Yamada-Sensei, at least. It probably would’ve been, um, worse if they hadn’t helped me. I wasn’t sure what to do when I got so sick so suddenly, but they... they both did know how to help. I’m very thankful.”

“I’m pleased to hear that, Midoriya-kun,” Nezu’s smile softens. “I apologize that people have been, and will continue to be, unfortunately, wary of you. Please don’t take it as a slight against your character, though I know it’s difficult not to. I really do sympathize with your position here.”

“Thank you,” Midoriya bows his head slightly. “I... I know people aren’t upset with me, but... but the me in your world. It’s very confusing, but it does... it’s sad because everyone here is... you’re all my teachers, but you don’t know me and I haven’t even met class 1-A yet, but they’re my friends in my reality.”

“That sounds quite difficult,” Nezu sympathizes offhandedly.

Midoriya gives a nod, wiping at wet eyes. It’s a dagger through his heart for Shota to see, but he knows there’s not much he can do. It’s not like he can force his co-workers or students to just be okay with Midoriya. The most he can hope for is them not immediately lashing out.

“Sorry,” the teen says after clearing his throat.

When he looks up again, the tears are gone. “Aizawa-Sensei said you had some rules?”

“Guidelines,” the principal corrects easily. “And some of these apply to both of you.”

Shota isn’t surprised by this—he'd expected it.

“Though I trust my staff, and my students, I believe it’s for the best that Midoriya-kun shadow you, Aizawa-kun. This’ll mean him attending all of your classes, including Heroics and when you’re teaching the second and third years. I would like you to keep him within sight during the school day. You’re welcome to have him participate in your lessons if you see fit, that will be completely up to you, but I trust we’re on the same page when I say no harm should come to him.”

“We are,” Shota gives a serious nod.

“But wait, what if I’m participating in something like Heroics?” Midoriya cocks his head, “I can hold my own, Sensei, I’m in your class. I have good Quirk control, and I’d never hurt anyone. I can take a hit too—it's unfair for them to have to hold back.”

“It’s not you I don’t trust, Midoriya,” Shota sighs, angling his head towards the teen, “you’ve gotta understand that people are afraid of Deku. Afraid of you. I don’t want an innocent sparring session to end with you injured, or worse, because someone gets scared and reacts in fear. I have good students, but fear is a dangerous emotion, Midoriya, and I can’t fault them for being scared.”

“This isn’t a punishment,” Nezu continues, “this is simply us being cautious for your wellbeing. Our knowledge of the Quirk you’re being affected by is quite limited. We don’t know what would happen if something happened to you; if you’re gravely injured or killed here, you very well might be in your reality too. There are too many unknown variables for us to just let you participate to the extent you’re used to, as much as I’d love to do so. We must face the facts here, as unpleasant as they are, your counterpart is a known villain. We are not in your reality, Midoriya-kun, even if it looks like we are.”

Midoriya wilts, managing a small defeated nod. It shouldn’t hurt Shota’s heart as much as it does, but it’s for the best. He can’t argue this—it would be illogical to do so. He’d rather have a sad Midoriya then a dead Midoriya.

“You won’t be benched,” Shota offers as consolation, even if he’s sure it doesn’t really help right now, “you’ll be restricted. I can handle my students, but I don’t want to see you hurt if someone starts something under the impression that you’re Deku, and I’m not fast enough to intervene.”

“I... understand,” the child whispers, and Shota really doesn’t believe him. He thinks Midoriya is offering up what he thinks they want to hear, and that he really doesn’t understand these restrictions. Shota has to remind himself that Midoriya is a child, and that to a child, this does seem unfair, even if it’s completely necessary.

If Nezu comes to the same conclusion, Shota doesn’t know. The rodent’s attention shifts between them before he clears his throat, “in addition, we should also try to keep Midoriya-kun away from Yagi-San, which we did mention yesterday. That, fortunately, I don’t see as being much of an issue, what with all the time Yagi-San has been spending working with the Detective and the third years since the school year started.”

Midoriya nods again, but this time Shota feels like he’s the one who doesn’t understand completely. Why does he get the feeling that there’s more to this specific restriction then meets the eye?

“Besides those two restrictions, I’d suggest you tread carefully when it comes to telling the rest of the staff and the students. I'm going to ask that you only do so when Aizawa-kun is around, Midoriya-kun. For the most part, I believe the teachers are fairly understanding—this isn’t the first wayward Quirk we’ve encountered in Heroics, and I’m sure it won’t be the last. We’ll still make it a general rule of thumb to avoid the name Deku, even if I suspect some might be able to connect the dots with just your name. Aizawa-kun managed, and I suspect Yamada-kun might’ve as well.”

Shota offers a shallow nod.

Nezu returns a nod like he’d expected as much. “I believe that covers everything for now. I will keep you both informed if I hear anything from Detective Tsukauchi. Please inform me of any incidents, and if my assistance is needed. I suspect there might be some unsavory encounters. You are a student at Yuuei, your ID card is proof enough of that, and I take my student’s safety quite seriously.”

They leave Nezu’s office pretty quickly after that.

Midoriya is oddly quiet, but Shota doesn’t have time to dwell on it. If he wants another coffee before homeroom, they’ll need to be fast.

The halls are filled with students at this point, it being so close to classes starting, but in his uniform and with his head ducked, Midoriya blends in well enough. It’s a blessing that Deku is as shy and careful as he is— his face isn’t well known, and even his civilian name has been kept fairly hush-hush.

When they arrive at the teacher’s offices, Shota holds the door open and gestures the kid in. He doubts Midoriya has been in the office in his Yuuei, since it’s rare for any student to be granted entrance and he thinks he’s right by how Midoriya bites his lip and hesitates.

It takes a second for them to be noticed, but when they are, the usual chatter dies off and Midoriya wilts in an attempt to make himself as small as humanly possible.

“Aizawa?” Snipe is the brave one to break the silence. They all know his students, and for the most part, most of the teachers know most of the students. Midoriya sticks out like a sore thumb. “Isn’t it a bit late in the year for a new student to be starting?”

“Hang on, I didn't hear anything about a new student,” Kayama turns to study the teenager. Midoriya shifts awkwardly, keeping his head ducked. “Was there an email or something sent out that I missed?”

“He’s not a new student, and it’s last minute,” Shota frowns, glancing quickly back at Midoriya quickly. “It’s not permanent. He’ll be sitting in during my classes only.”

“Just your classes?” Hound Dog cocks his head, “why? Don’t you teach first, second and third years? That’s a bit odd.”

Shota tucks his hands into his pockets as he squints at the group. He takes a second to study over each of them, mostly searching for Yagi’s face in the crowd, which is thankfully missing.

He hopes this doesn’t backfire.

“This—” he hesitates, suddenly unsure. It’s not like he can’t not tell them—they do deserve to know; it is a matter of security, really. Not just the school’s safety, but Midoriya’s as well. There will definitely be problems if someone misidentifies Midoriya as Deku and no one knows the boy is an innocent doppelganger in a bad situation. “—is Midoriya Izuku.”

It’s pin-drop silent as the introduction soaks in.

Shota watches on high alert as his co-workers faces twist as they process what he’s said. Some just look confused, while others settle into looks of fear and disbelief— he even spots anger flash across some of his co-worker's faces. Probably not good, but there’s no easy way to ease them into this. He doesn’t have time to introduce them all one by one, and he’s almost certain word of mouth would fly faster than he’s able to break the news if he’d tried.

Shota does a quick scan around the room as the silence gets heavier—more cautious. Most of the staff is staring at him like he’s insane, while others look genuinely scared.

Hizashi has perked up where he’s sitting at his desk, and Shota appreciates the pitying look he’s sending both Shota and Midoriya.

“Midoriya Izuku?” Vlad King repeats, tone hinting towards danger. A danger Midoriya recognizes, if the way he subtly shifts closer and half hides himself behind Shota is any indication. It’s a smart move, since Shota’s already squaring his shoulder and scowling right back at the bulky man.

“That can’t seriously be…” Kayama stares in disbelief, “if that’s really... him, he should be in cuffs. He should be in prison. How the hell did he even get on campus, Aizawa? What’s he done to you and why the hell are you so calm? He’s dangerous—”

“No,” Shota scoffs, trying to keep himself for letting the irritation show. This is worse than he’d expected—he'd at least thought they’d let him explain. Hizashi had been shocked too, but he’d let Shota explain before letting his emotions get out of control. “He’s done nothing wrong, now would you all just—”

“The villain’s obviously done something to Aizawa!” Snipe growls in horror, “there’s no way Aizawa would let Deku wander free like that, not around the kids! Not after the USJ! Someone restrain Deku before he does something! Call the police!”

“Hang on a second,” Shota snaps, stepping fully in front of Midoriya as his Quirk flares just in case any of his co-workers decide to try and use theirs—Kayama specifically who could put them to sleep. Most of the staff bristles when his Quirk strips theirs away, and he knows they’re offended he’s using his on them.

He sees Hizashi rising to his feet as well, ready to join in defending. Hizashi’s voice is low and calming, placating, “hey, hey, hey everyone just calm down a bit, ya’dig? There’s obviously a reason for all this, yeah? Listen to what Aizawa's gotta say.”

“Calm down?” Vlad snaps, stalking towards Shota, but still keeping his distance like he’s afraid the cowering child behind Shota will suddenly spring up and attack him. “You want us to calm down when Aizawa’s brought him into our school, Mic? What reason could there be for Aizawa to have a villain with him?”

Hizashi flounders for a second before his expression hardens.

Shota’s jaw twitches as anger settles in his stomach.

“Listen,” Shota snarls, “you all need to calm the hell down. This kid did nothing to me, and he’s done nothing to any of you either, so back the fuck up, or I’ll make you. This is not Deku. He’s...” Shota’s anger lapses as he tries to decide of what Midoriya could be—something that will get the message across without being completely ridiculous, or mind boggling, because he’ll give them the benefit of the doubt to be shellshocked when it comes to alternate reality jumping Quirks.

Besides, he needs to focusing diffusing the situation before things get out of control; the explanation can come after when everyone has cooled off enough to logically think. “He’s an exchange student.”

“From where, Tartarus?” Vlad snarls, arms crossing over his chest. Shota bristles at venomous quip, twitching with a need to strangle Vlad with his capture weapon. “That vile villain belongs in prison, Aizawa, not in our school! You know exactly what he’s done!”

“How can he be an exchange student?” Thirteen shifts nervously. Shota’s at least glad they aren’t letting fearful anger take over, but genuinely terrified isn’t much better. He does understand though, Thirteen had also been at the USJ when Deku and Shigaraki had launched their attack. “Aizawa, don’t you remember what he did? He’s a villai—”

“Now, now!” Nezu pops up behind them. “Everyone, please take a second to collect yourselves. Aizawa-kun is accompanying our guest, and that was not a very warm welcome he received from the teachers of this fine educational establishment.”

Midoriya startles at the sudden appearance of the principal, Shota does not. He’s used to the rat popping up at random times from literally anywhere.

“I must say, teachers,” Nezu continues, nose twitching in that tiny tic that conveys his anger, “I’m quite appalled in what I’ve just witnessed. I had hoped my staff would consider the fact that Midoriya-kun is here accompanied by a trusted Yuuei teacher, wearing a school uniform and very obviously not restrained in any way, but it seems you were all too quick to emotions to think rationally. That’s disappointing.”

“Nezu-San, that’s—”

“Our newest student who will be here for an undetermined amount of time, approved by both the police department, as well as myself,” Nezu cuts off with a clipped voice. “The child with Aizawa-kun is not the villain Deku, although they share an uncanny resemblance, no? And, if you had waited a moment, and let Aizawa-kun explain as he’d been trying to do, instead of verbally and very near physically attacking a student under the protection of this very school, you would’ve known that.”

“He’s a student under Yuuei’s what—”

“Since you wouldn’t let Aizawa-kun explain Midoriya-kun's presence, I will, and in doing so, you will all be receiving a formal reprimand for your carelessness and failure to logically assess a sensitive situation of high stress. I’m quite disappointed. I must say, I expected as much from the students, but not seasoned Pros. Truly concerning. How can I trust you to teach the students to think with their heads and not with their hearts when you are not setting an example. Jumping to a conclusion whilst ignoring the facts laid before you is dangerous—not just for yourselves, but for everyone involved.”

“But, Nezu-San,” Vlad digs his own grave, “Deku’s a villain—”

“He certainly is,” Nezu agrees darkly, “Deku is a villain, but Midoriya-kun is not.”

The rodent steps past Shota and Midoriya, and Shota sees the bright colours of Midoriya’s ID from his reality held in Nezu’s paws, which are laced together over the small of his back. Proof. Good. It’s hard to deny the card. Shota had tried when he first met the kid, but it truly is Nezu inspected authentic. Hell, it’s a reality difference short of their Yuuei's security accepting it.

The rodent hands the card to the first teacher he reaches, who just so happens to be Vlad himself who'd decided to act as a protector, positioning himself between the other teachers and Shota and his student.

Vlad takes the card without looking away from Shota as he does so. They’re leveling each other heated glares and unlike every other time Vlad sparks up that stupid class rivalry, Shota is not about to back down.

Nezu makes a clicking noise with his tongue, voice stiff when he continues, “Sekijiro-kun, I’m going to have to ask that you cease the glaring, I understand it’s considered quite rude to you humans. Now, please study, then circulate the card in your hand around to the rest of the staff. I trust you all will be able to identify exactly what it is you’re being shown. I would like everyone to take a good look at that card before another word is said.”

Nezu’s voice holds a finality that none of the teachers are stupid enough to challenge. He’s incredibly scary for a creature so small.

“Oh,” Nezu hums as an afterthought, “and, please be careful with it; it is not ours to damage, and it will be returned exactly as it was lent to me. In pristine condition. Please have a very good look at that ID, and then, when you’re satisfied, pass it to the next person and take a seat at your desk. We’re going to be having a discussion.”

Vlad glares at Shota and Midoriya for a second longer before finally managing to drag his gaze down to the card in hand. Shota takes pleasure in the way his eyes widen and his jaw goes slack. He squints down hard at it like he just can’t process it, jaw then clenching as he quickly flips it over, inspecting the back intently before flipping it back around to Midoriya’s face.

His brows furrow as he glares down at the card, “this can’t be—”

“It is,” Nezu says flatly. “Make note of the date it was issued, and then pass it on, Sekijiro-kun. There are a lot who need to see that and we have very little time before you all need to get to your classes.”

Slowly but surely, Midoriya’s ID card circulates around to all the teachers. Shota does not move, and behind him, Midoriya is frozen in fear too. His heart breaks for the kid. More trauma to add to his growing collection—the teachers he knows and trusts literally taking one look at him and condemning him on spot. Perfect.

Shota had known this could be a possibility, but that didn’t prepare him for it actually happening.

“Aizawa-kun?” Shota lowers his glare to Nezu before he can think to settle the dark look.

Thankfully, his boss doesn’t seem to mind.

The office is near silent, everyone sitting at their desks like scolded school children. There’s a general weight of confusion in the room, but also levels of varying guilt. It shouldn’t make Shota as pleased as it does. Though guilt doesn’t help the trembling child behind him.

Nezu sends a sharp glance over his staff before turning back to the Underground Hero and his student, “please grab what you came in for and then take Midoriya-kun out to calm down before classes start. I will explain the situation to our staff, and I trust they will take my explanation seriously if they didn’t bother to take yours. Now, I’m sure you’ll have your hands full come homeroom, so, please make haste. If any class shouldn’t be left to their own devices for long, it’s class 1-A.”

Shota only does as directed when Hizashi takes his place as Midoriya’s human shield. Hizashi, the saint he is, crouches down and says something Shota’s to angry to make out to the boy, and Midoriya gives a shaky nod in response.

When Hizashi’s stands up to his full height, Shota finally sets away towards the coffee pot.

He doesn’t delay pouring himself a mug of coffee, shooting his co-workers a dark look as he does so.

He can’t believe not one of them considered the possibility that there was more to the situation then what they saw. Not a single one of them took a second to assess the situation past the knee-jerk reaction of Villain!.

He really does understand it’s insane— he’d been there just yesterday, but Midoriya had had him vouching for him this time. It wasn’t like the kid just strolled into the school by himself. He was in a uniform; he’d passed their high-tech security and he was being escorted by a trusted member of the staff. The explanation was being offered to them, even if none of them cared to listen to it.

He knows his reaction wasn’t much better, but the difference there was no one knew what the hell was going on when Midoriya first approached him. There wasn’t anyone offering an explanation to Shota; there was just a teenager who introduced himself as the current most feared villain in Japan, after essentially tracking down him on patrol. Of course he’d be on alert.

But when they’d taken a second to really think, to assess the situation and when an explanation had been offered; to him, and Tsukauchi and Nezu, they’d listened. They’d been convinced.

His colleagues didn’t have that excuse.

Shota takes his coffee and stalks back to Midoriya, knowing his aura is dark and angry by the way Hizashi frowns softly when he draws closer. Shota shakes his head when Hizashi looks like he’s debating saying something, and the blonde just nods knowingly, stepping away when Shota was close enough to the teen to set a guiding hand between the boy’s shoulder blades.

He pushes the office door open with his elbow and doesn’t bother looking back, just ushers the child away from the threats. He’s quick to get them away from the office, guiding Midoriya though the halls swiftly. The teen keeps pace silently, eyes downcast.

“How are you holding up?” Shota asks when they’re far enough away from the office that Midoriya has almost stopped trembling. Shota’s not used to having a student tucked so close to him, but he knows it would be cruel to push Midoriya away after that.

He wonders what sort of bond Midoriya’s Aizawa has with his students, and wonders further if its anything like Shota’s own with his kids. They’ve all definitely gotten closer since moving into the dorms, but he wonders if Midoriya himself had played the part of glue holding them all together. It wouldn’t surprise him.

“Uhm okay. I, um, I’m okay,” the boy stutters out, looking anything but okay. Shota glances down at him, mouth pulling into a frown when he notices the kid fisting at his white shirt, just over his heart. His entire fist is a pale bone-white as his grip clenches. “You... you warned me. I-I should’ve been... I should’ve been prepared for something like that. It was just... I thought Vlad-Sensei was going to— I thought he was gonna— y-you were right, Sensei.”

For the first time in Shota’s life, he wishes he wasn’t right. He wishes he’d been wrong, and that the other teachers had hesitantly accepted Midoriya like Hizashi had. What a fucking mess.

“I don’t know if...” Midoriya swallows thickly, and Shota glances down once again and sees bright, watery eyes staring back up at him, “I don’t know how I’ll take m-my friends doing that, Sensei. M-my classmates. It was b-bad enough my t-teachers did, but I don’t know if I can handle m-my friends saying things like that. I-I feel sick—”

Shota stops walking now, uncaring that the bell goes off just as he does and the halls are suddenly empty as kids scurry to class. Midoriya stops too, but only because Shota grabs a handful of the blazer where his hand hadn’t moved from where he’d been guiding the kid. “Midoriya,” he calls softly, “wait a second.”

“Y-you’re going to be late, Sensei,” Midoriya turns to him with glassy eyes. His shoulders are shaking, and his face is pinched like he’s trying so hard to keep that mask of okay on. “You’re n-never late.”

“Do you want to do this today?”

The kid wilts like he’d suddenly realized Shota can see he’s not holding it together as well as he thinks he is. More tears rush to his eyes, but he’s quick to wipe them on his sleeve.

“You don’t need to do everything at once, Midoriya,” Shota tells him calmly. “You deserve a second to decompress and think about this. That was hard, and that was grown adults who should not have jumped to conclusions the way they did. I truthfully don’t know how my students will react to this, and I can’t be sure they won’t react similarly to the teachers. This is... it’s a lot to process, Kid.”

Shota pauses, surveying over Midoriya, but he’s still just trying not to cry, “just remember, Problem Child, there’s nothing wrong with needing a bit of time to process what just happened. I can get Hizashi to cover my homeroom class if you want to go back to the apartment for a while. You do not have to force yourself to do everything today. There’s nothing wrong with needing a break.”

“No,” the kid whimpers, rubbing harder at his eyes, “I-I need to know. I need to do this. I can’t... I can’t just relax if I’m afraid of what they’ll say—what they’ll do. It-it's like it’s looming over my head and suffocating me. I know they’re not my friends b-but they are. To me.”

“Okay,” Shota nods, “I understand.”

Midoriya is still sniffling, rubbing his eyes raw like he’s trying to press his tears back into his eyes before they can fall. Shota feels awful. This is a child who’d suddenly been dumped in a place where he’s public enemy number one. Where everyone he knows and loves considers him a villain and are treating him accordingly. That would be a hard pill for anyone to swallow, but this is a child. “What do you need right now, Midoriya?”

There’s a pause.

Midoriya shifts awkwardly at Shota’s side, still wiping at his eyes. The underground Hero waits patiently for an answer, whether it be a request for something, or just an unconvincing ‘nothing’ from the teenager that Shota won’t push.

“Can—” the teenager cuts himself off, choking on a stuttered breath, “c-can I just... can I have a hug, Sensei? T-that's probably a weird request, and I’m sorry, I-I— I just—”

The man doesn’t bother answering, just wraps an arm around the kid and tries not to feel that annoying flurry of heartbreak and fondness cloud his chest. Midoriya cuts himself off abruptly, melting into the hug. He returns it with enough force that Shota wobbles momentarily in an attempt to keep them both standing. The teenager hardly wastes a second before burying his face in Shota’s capture weapon, and lacing his arms around the man’s upper chest.

He wonders how long the kid had been craving affection as simple as a hug; too scared to ask for it but needing it. Or, maybe he didn’t think he could ask for it here. There’s probably a lot going on in the kid’s head that he couldn’t even begin to understand.

Shota blows out a sigh through his nose as he lets his chin fall onto the top of the teenager’s head.

He lets his hand rub up the kid’s back, careful not to spill the coffee in his other hand.

The hug doesn’t last long, Midoriya tearing himself away carefully and taking two tiny steps back when he decides it’s been long enough. He gives a water half-smile as he roughly drags his sleeve over his face. “Sorry.”

Shota frowns, but doesn’t bother saying anything. It's starting to seem like a lost cause to get Midoriya to stop apologizing for things he can’t help. And Shota doesn’t think he really needs a reprimand, as soft and logical as it is, after what just transpired.

“I’m ready,” Midoriya does manage a nervous little half-smile. “I think.”

Shota gives a nod, and doesn’t question him. He can’t keep pushing, even if it does feel like Midoriya is trying to take everything in too fast. He’s trying to rush this, and Shota fears he’ll only end up getting hurt that way. Still, it probably shouldn’t be delayed, and if Midoriya is ready to do it, they should while he’s got his nerve.

They walk side by side the rest of the way to the 1-A classroom. Shota can hear his kids from down the hall. Bickering and chatting. Laughing. Iida’s voice trying to corral them, and settle them down. He sighs internally. They pause for a second outside the door, and as they do, the room falls silent and desperate shuffles are the only sound.

Midoriya’s nervous expression dips to one of amusement for just a second before the fear and anxiety is back full force. He shuffles anxiously, staring at the door like it’ll magically open and eat him.

Shota waits another second for good measure, sipping at his coffee. He brushes the kid out of the way carefully as he throws the door open. The silence carries on as he glares uninterestedly into the room, all eyes on him.

“We have a guest,” he tells the students without greeting them. Straight to the point. “I have a... personal student who will be sitting in on all of my classes for a while, so I expect you all to be respectful.”

Shota steps into the room and gestures the teen in behind him. He gives Midoriya props for how he manages to keep his head held high, even as he jitters anxiously in place after settling a step or so in front of Shota.

The boy scans the room, offering a bashful half smile, “h-hi.”

“Class,” Shota gestures the hand not holding his coffee towards Midoriya, “this is—”

“Deku!” growls a familiarly angry voice, and then Shota hears the telltale sound of crackling sparks as an ashen-haired blur barrels at the green-haired teen. Midoriya braces for impact, protecting his face and the most Shota can do in that blink of a second is cancel out Bakugou’s Quirk so no serious damage can happen.

The blonde doesn’t seem bothered as his Quirk is erased, continuing straight for Midoriya. He doesn’t waste a second as he grabs two fistfuls of the other boy’s uniform and lifts him up threateningly so only Midoriya’s toes are on the ground. The green-haired teen looks afraid, but... not as afraid as Shota would’ve expected.

“What the fuck’re you doing here, Deku?”

Shota silently morns his mug of coffee as he prepares to drop it so he can get both hands on his capture weapon and restrain Bakugou.

He feels like an idiot for forgetting— of course Bakugou Katsuki would know what Deku looks like. He’d been kidnapped by the League. He’d probably interacted with Deku, not that the teen told them much about what the League of Villains actually wanted with him.

Shota had expected for none of his students to piece it together when he introduced the kid. Midoriya Izuku was not a name that was circulated; the news outlets, and other Heroes spread the name Deku. Easily remembered with no chance of confusion. He hadn’t even said Midoriya’s name, and already the entire class knew. Fuck.

“K-Kacchan, please!” Midoriya winces, not fighting back whatsoever. Shota’s mouth dries at the... the childish nickname? Were he and his Bakugou Katsuki close in his reality? Shota never would’ve guessed that one. “Don't do this, you're a Hero now!”

Just as Shota’s about to drop his coffee mug and whip his capture weapon around Bakugou, the ashy-haired teen roughly shoves Midoriya away as if the green-haired teenager had physically burned him. Bakugou recoils, tugging his hands into his chest as he takes three measured steps back, shaking in place as Midoriya stumbles back into Shota.

The coffee sloshes over onto his hand when Midoriya makes impact, but he can’t even begin to care about the burning pain of hot coffee sinking into his skin.

What?

“Who—” Bakugou looks like he’s suddenly seen a ghost, pointing a shaking finger at Midoriya, “who the fuck is that?”

Chapter Text

Izuku watches wide eyed as Kacchan stumbles away from him like he’d burned him instead of the other way around. Anxiety pits in his stomach, and dread just makes him feel sick as he stumbles back into Aizawa-Sensei before he manages to find his bearings.

“Who—” Kacchan breathes out desperately, like he can’t manage to draw in a deep breath. He lifts a shaking finger and points directly at Izuku, “who the fuck is that?”

It probably shouldn’t hurt as much as it does to hear Kacchan mutter those words accusingly, and it takes a good, long second for Izuku to manage to drag himself around to the fact that this isn’t his Bakugou Katsuki— the one who bullied him throughout middle school and took it as a personal threat when Izuku managed to scrape his way into Yuuei with All Might’s help.

This is the Bakugou Katsuki who’s Midoriya Izuku is a villain. They’re real, legit enemies here. Izuku doesn’t know what the hell happened between them— what Deku did to Kacchan to warrant a reaction like that, but it makes him nervous.

The way Kacchan is looking at him makes him wish the ground would crack open and swallow him whole. Kacchan has looked at him with a lot of emotions over the years, anger tending to be recurring one, but he’s never looked at Izuku genuinely afraid.

Izuku takes a small step back, hardly aware of the fact he’s now completely pressing back against Aizawa-Sensei who is... he’s not Izuku’s Aizawa-Sensei. A hand settles on his shoulder and he hates the way he startles.

He hears a second splatter of liquid hitting the floor and swirls around when his brain catches up to the fact more of Sensei’s coffee has spilled. Because of him. “Oh!” Izuku cries out, “I’m so sorry! Your coffee, Sensei!”

He has half a mind to tear himself away from Aizawa-Sensei and force himself deeper into the classroom, but the other half of his mind wants him to turn tail and dodge around the man so he can disappear from sight.

Neither of those things are smart— 1-A is now watching him like he’s a mix of some advanced puzzle, but also a threat that needs to be studied and monitored due to Kacchan’s reaction, and after the reaction of the teachers in the office just now, he knows anyone who has seen, or even heard of Deku, won’t hesitate to detain him, by whatever means necessary.

He’s in a Hero school—he knows a lot of the Quirks currently attending the school this year, assuming that things aren’t different like his class wasn’t. There are some cool Quirks, definitely, but they’re all terrifying to think about when he thinks about them being used against him.

He’s scared.

There is no lesser evil in this situation, and his life right now is genuinely in Aizawa-Sensei's hands.

“Sensei,” Kacchan barks out, taking another tiny step away, “who the hell is that?”

Aizawa-Sensei is quiet for a second, taking in the scene. He looks between Kacchan and Izuku himself before glancing out at the class.

They’re all quiet; watching and studying. Trying to figure out what it is they’re looking at.

“Who do you think it is?” Aizawa-Sensei finally speaks, ushering Izuku into the room.

Kacchan takes quick steps back as Izuku is all but guided into the room. He thinks briefly about digging his heels into the ground and putting up resistance, but he doesn’t dare. And unless he uses One for All to his advantage, and this isn’t really a One for All type of situation, Aizawa-Sensei is stronger than him.

Aizawa-Sensei sets his mug down on the desk when they’re close enough, then dries his red, almost blistering fingers dry on his Hero uniform. When he looks up, he glances past Izuku at the students remaining in their seat before his attention tips back to Kacchan.

Sensei looks thoughtfully between Izuku and Kacchan for a long second before he finally gestures to Izuku at his side without taking his eyes off of Kacchan, “who is this, Bakugou?”

“That’s—” Kacchan starts before he snaps his mouth shut, glaring at Izuku. The teen in question tries not to move, staying statue stiff at the underground Hero’s side. “I don’t know who that is,” Kacchan snaps, “that-that’s not Midoriya Izuku. It’s not him, but it— it’s... What the fuckin’ hell is going on here? That looks like... but he— he's not Deku—”

“How do you know that?”

“Are you saying it is Deku?” Kacchan snarls, red eyes locking on the Pro as his lip curls into a scowl, “that’s pretty fuckin’ messed up, Sensei, if you’re bringing Deku into the school!”

Whispers fill the heavy silence as the students talk, its apparently now starting to sink in just who Izuku is, or, who they believe he is. A quick glare from Aizawa-Sensei has them quieting instantly before the teacher’s attention is back on Kacchan, “I’m not confirming, nor denying anything, Bakugou. Is it, or isn’t it Deku? You said it’s not, and you’re the one who met him, aren’t you? Which is it?”

Izuku doesn’t know what’s happening now.

Why is Sensei not confirming that Izuku is not the Deku they know? Why isn’t he telling Kacchan that he’s right and that Izuku is not their Deku?

What is the Pro up to, what’s he after?

“That’s not the Deku I know,” the ashen-haired teen grits out. “Who the fuck is that?”

“Midoriya Izuku,” Aizawa-Sensei introduces calmly, still watching in interest as Kacchan doesn’t dare to draw his attention away from Izuku. “But you already know that.”

Kacchan stills, eyes narrowed on Izuku. “No shit, Sensei, but who the hell is he? That’s not Midoriya Izuku. That’s not Deku. Deku hasn't been... not since— he’s not— that's not him, so who the hell is he?”

“Kacch—”

“Do not fuckin’ call me that,” Kacchan lashes out, pointing a now accusatory finger at Izuku. His lips are still pressed in the scowl, and his eyes are quick to jump from a scolded Izuku back to Aizawa-Sensei. “Who the hell is he? What the hell is he doing here?”

“Just as I said earlier,” Sensei huffs calmly, “he’s a personal student who will be shadowing me for the unforeseeable future. He’s a guest here, so treat him accordingly no matter what you think you know about him.”

“Stop toeing around this, Sensei!” Kacchan finally decides to throw caution to the wind, marching around the desk to stop squarely in front of Izuku. He pokes his finger against Izuku’s chest hard enough that the green-haired teen is sure it’ll leave a bruise, “I don’t know who the fuck you are, but if you touch a single one of my asshole extra classmates, I will blow you to fuckin’ pieces, you hear me imposter?”

“N-now you sound like my Kacchan. Um, sorta.” Izuku gives a nervous laugh, subtly shifting away. It’s refreshing not hearing the telltale sound of sparks coming from Kacchan’s hands—maybe this Kacchan fears Aizawa-Sensei a little more than Izuku’s does. “I’ve never heard you defend our classmates; I wonder what’s changed here.”

“What the fuck do you mean my Kacchan,” Kacchan fumes, but he doesn’t step away from Izuku again.

“And, uh, what’s this about our classmates?” Ashido asks with a frown.

“O-oh, I um, I just—”

“Midoriya was hit by a Quirk,” Aizawa-Sensei finally offers, instantly quieting his class with nothing but his words, “a Quirk in his reality which somehow sent him here to our reality. He’s not the Villain known as Deku, he’s a student who attends this school and is in my class, your class, where he’s from. I understand this is a lot to take in, but trust me as your teacher that I wouldn’t do anything that could possibly harm you students. Midoriya is safe, and we’re sure of that.”

“Um,” Kaminari raises his hand but doesn’t bother waiting to be called on, “seriously? Because that sounds so cool! Alternate realities—that's like something outta a comic book or somethin’!”

Izuku isn’t sure cool is what he’s settle for when describing this whole mess, but the thought, in theory, definitely does sound sorta cool. Maybe not when it’s happening to you, but looking in from the outside.

“Wait,” Kirishima straightens up, “does that mean there’s two Dekus here now?”

"That seems to be the most plausible case," Aizawa-Sensei shrugs. "But we can't know for sure. Deku sticks to the shadows, so we can't know for sure whether or not he's still in out universe. A Quirk that swaps two people in two different point in two different worlds is practically unheard of, but, then again, so is a Quirk that sends someone to a reality they don't belong in."

"That's wild," Kaminari flops back against his backrest similarly to how he is when he's short-circuited. Izuku thinks Sensei might've just blown his mind.

“Aizawa-Sensei!” Iida raises his hand. He waits in the impatient patient sort of way until Aizawa-Sensei glances over with a raised eyebrow, “the idea of alternate realities is nothing more than a theory! How can you be sure that that isn’t really Deku? How do you know this isn’t a trick? He’s a villain!”

“Midoriya has been cleared by both Principal Nezu and the Detective Tsukauchi who most of you were interviewed by after the USJ attack. Some of you might remember his Quirk, which is Lie Detector. All you students need to know is that Midoriya was arrested, detained and interviewed under the suspicion that he was Deku. We followed protocol as we would with any villain, but he’s since been released.”

The man pauses, sipping at his coffee whilst looking exhausted.

He scans the class thoughtfully before clearing his throat and continuing, “Nezu, Tsukauchi and myself all determined that he most certainly is not Deku after that interview. Midoriya has also provided evidence that is not of this reality, and ignoring all those facts would be illogical. Deku is good at what he does, I’m sure we can all agree on that, but he’s not that good.”

“Even so,” Yaoyorozu shifts uncertainly, glancing quickly at Izuku before averting her gaze, “are you sure we should be trusting him? If I’m understanding this right, he’s still Midoriya Izuku—Deku. What makes them different from reality to reality?”

“That’s not Deku,” Kacchan finally steps away. Izuku lets out a puff of air when he’s no longer pinned in place by Kacchan’s tense frame. “You Extras are wasting your breath. I know Deku, and this guy isn’t him.”

“I mean,” Kirishima sits up straight as Kacchan returns to his seat with a grim expression, “Bakubro is the only one of us to have actually met Deku, right? We should probably trust him. And Sensei too. Sensei almost died for us at the USJ, you guys really think he’d bring a villain to class?”

“Since when is Bakugou the trusted judge of character?” Izuku’s attention snaps to the voice he’s not as familiar with, grin widening when he spots who it is that took his place. “He’s the same guy who refers to all of us as ‘Extras’.”

“Shinsou!” Izuku beams, startling not just Shinsou himself, but the class and Aizawa-Sensei, “I didn’t think you’d be here! That’s awesome! I’m so glad you made it into 1-A, I know how much you wanted to get into this class—er, well, you did in, um, my r-reality. Just—”

“Wait, you know me?” Shinsou looks torn between cautious, impressed and a bit afraid. “That’s... terrifying.”

“I... oh, ah, s-sorry? I just, um, I know all of you?” Izuku swallows hard, “I mean, n-not you guys directly! Obviously, because, um, we’ve never met here, but uh, in my reality. You’re my classmates too, and we’ve um... fought together, like, a lot— like at the USJ, and um, Todoroki, Iida and I fought— w-well... uhm. And then at the training camp and rescuing Kacchan from the League of Villains! We all had to work together.”

Izuku finds himself quieting in volume as he continues. He can’t quite place the looks on his classmate’s faces, drawn between multiple different emotions at once on each different classmate. “Sorry,” Izuku winces, “I know that’s probably c-creepy to you guys, but... it’s just we’re all classmates where I’m from. So, um...”

“You rescued me?” Kacchan is the one to break the silence, staring intently at Izuku.

Once again, Izuku can’t place the emotion on Kacchan’s face. It’s not angry—but he still can’t... It doesn’t look like it belongs there. Whatever it is.

“Y-yeah,” Izuku swallows again, nervously wringing his fingers together, “Kirishima, Todoroki, Iida, Yaoyorozu and I all banded together to rescue you from Shigaraki and the League. Um... there was a tracker that Yaoyorozu made and had stuck to the Nomu during the summer camp attack, so we... followed it to you. Sorta.”

Izuku pauses, blinking twice as he mentally runs through the rescue mission, “I mean, it wasn’t that easy, of course, you weren’t even at the warehouse when we got there—but we did get you in the end. Um, A-Aizawa-Sensei was not, um, not happy.”

Izuku can almost feel Aizawa-Sensei's eyes boring into him. That calculating and disapproving look. Something in the way he’s staring tells Izuku that there probably wasn’t a rescue party for Kacchan here, and if there was, it was nothing like the one Izuku’s talking about.

“Wait...” Kirishima’s tensed up now, “how did... how’d you know we planned to—” red eyes shoot to where Aizawa-Sensei is now glowering in Kirishima’s direction, “I mean, uh, not that we planned to do anything involving rescuing Bakugou because, uh, you know what? Never mind. For-forget I said anything.”

Izuku blinks at Kirishima before glance back at where Aizawa-Sensei looks done with the day already.

“You’re the reason they targeted me.”

“What?” Izuku yelps in surprise, eyes shooting towards Kacchan, “what do you—what does that mean, Kacchan? Why would—why—”

“You’re the one who convinced them I could be bribed into joining their stupid villain gang. Fire power or whatever bullshit you had in your stupid head. You told me so yourself: ‘if I can be a villain, Bakugou Katsuki, then so can you. You are the most villainous person I’ve even known, are you really cut out for Heroics?’” Kacchan sneers, mimicking someone else’s voice.

“First time I see you after you...” Kacchan grits his teeth, looking away sharply as he continues without finishing the thought, “and that’s the bullshit you say. If I hadn’t of been chained to a chair, I probably would’ve killed you. You changed, and it’s fuckin’ bullshit. I’m supposed to be the asshole, not you.”

Izuku feels sick as that settles in his stomach. He’d done that? He’d wanted to convince Kacchan to join the villains? Izuku knew Kacchan was rough around the edges, but he still strongly believed he’d be a great Hero. To know he’d tried to... it made his stomach coil. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize for someone else’s actions,” Aizawa-Sensei snaps under his breath, and Izuku’s the only one who startles, so he thinks he’s the only one to hear the man. He bows his head like a scolded child anyways.

“Wait, so if that’s not how your Bakugou got kidnapped in your reality, then how did the villains decide to kidnap him?” Ojiro asks carefully. “Did they randomly select him, or was there a reason?”

“Oh,” Izuku bites his lip, “well, my Kacchan is... he’s fiery—”

“That’s a nice way to say he’s an asshole,” Sero mutters under his breath to Jirou, who snickers behind her hand. Kacchan snaps a glare at the two of them, but doesn’t lash out. Weird.

“—and um, strong willed. He said some things during the Festival that sorta made him come off like an, um asshole, I guess? B-but um, I think what really caught Shigaraki’s eye was the medal ceremony. Kacchan was angry, and um, didn’t feel like he quite deserved his win because during the last fight, against Todoroki, he didn’t think Todoroki gave it his all like when he fought me so to get him up onto the podium the teachers... they sorta muzzled and restrained him so he could receive his first-place medal—”

“They muzzled him on live television?” Sensei sounds genuinely disgusted. “Who the hell approved that, because I hope to God it wasn’t me.”

“I-I don’t know,” Izuku squeaks, turning to look at where the man is leaning on his arms against his desk, “I, um, I only saw it later, after the Festival was over— I was having surgery on my arms during the awarding ceremony and—”

“You were having surgery on your arms?” Sensei’s voice sounds deadly serious, and Izuku has an uncomfortable feeling that he’s unknowingly digging himself a grave. “During the Sports Festival? We let you use your Quirk at a school event until you needed surgery?”

“We-well,” Izuku sucks on his bottom lip in an attempt to organize his thoughts and these specific events, “I-I was still, um, figuring out my Quirk, so I hurt myself a bit and I also, sorta, went to hard trying to convince Todoroki-kun to use his fire side a-and he did and I just don’t think I was quite prepared for him to go, um, full force—”

“I use my fire side?” Todoroki chimes in from the back of the room, cocking his head curiously, “I don’t.”

“Oh, um,” Izuku feels so lost. “You did— I think it was the first time in a long time, but you use it more often now. B-but that's why Kacchan was so upset because you used your ice and fire when fighting me, but you resorted back to just your ice when you fought him...”

It’s starting to feel like he can’t think clearly. It’s that kind of lost that rattles your brain around and makes it hard to think about anything. He doesn’t even feel like he could walk a straight line right now with how his head is spinning.

Things are so different.

They’re the same, but they’re not. These events happened, but not like they did here, and he can’t help but let the two realities meld together in a way. Things that didn’t happen to him feel like they did, and things that did happen to him feel like they shouldn’t have, because he’s the only one who knows about them.

Someone with his name and face, essentially him, has been out terrorizing Heroes, and Izuku doesn’t understand why. He’d never in a million years do that. He idolizes Heroes. Heroes are good; they help people, like All Might and Aizawa-Sensei have helped him. Why would this reality’s Midoriya Izuku turn evil? Become a villain? What happened? What changed?

“Hang on a fuckin’ second,” Kacchan’s glaring again, “you used a Quirk to the point you needed surgery where you’re from? What the fuck?”

Izuku gives a nod, knowing that to be true. He’s still got the scars on his arms and he still hangs onto Recovery Girl’s grave threat and warning that occasionally haunt his dreams.

Kacchan glares harder, “Deku’s Quirkless.”

Oh right. Not his Kacchan. The Midoriya Izuku in this reality is still Quirkless if All Might didn’t give him One for All. He knows Deku here doesn’t have One for All because according to Nezu and the Detective, as far as Izuku’s deciphered, All Might has been focusing on his successor. He’s curious who the successor in this reality is if it’s not Izuku himself.

“I manifested a Quirk,” Izuku offers quietly, “during the entrance exam for Yuuei. I’m a... late bloomer.”

There’s a pause.

“Sensei,” Asui raises her hand but doesn’t wait to be called on either, “does that mean Deku’s going to manifest a Quirk here too, kero?”

“No,” Aizawa-Sensei shakes his head firmly, “I doubt it. If Deku was going to manifest a Quirk, he would’ve around the same time Midoriya did. From what we know thus far, generally, everything is roughly the same from reality to reality—Quirks included. Midoriya has confirmed this multiple times. As for what we do know, Deku is diagnosed Quirkless, and won’t be getting a Quirk. We’ve seen his hospital records from before he became a villain. He won’t be getting a Quirk by any biological means.”

Izuku bites his lip, wiggling his toes in his shoes.

He knows his records match up with Deku’s. He’s also biologically Quirkless— so he’s incredibly glad all his information is in his reality, and that it's not being questioned by his peers. That would be an awful lot of explaining he’d need to do to his Aizawa-Sensei.

One for All is clearly a secret here too, if the hush-hush way the Detective and Principal Nezu had skirted around the topic, was any indication, and not to mention how Izuku’s possession of his All Might’s Quirk had been the factor that finally seemed to convince the two men of his innocence.

Plus, he’s positive if a Deku doppelganger spilled All Might’s secret after Deku himself had already ruined his career, Izuku’s not sure All Might would be very happy. From what he’s gathered, All Might is already very not happy with him, which sorta hurts to know.

“But how can one Midoriya have a Quirk and not the other? Aren’t they the same person just in different realities?” Uraraka asks without raising a hand. She’s glancing calculatingly at Izuku, thoughtfully watching him. “I don’t understand.”

“I don’t know,” Sensei shrugs, glancing sideways as Izuku in a thoughtful sort of way, “I’d agree with you, but I know for certain Midoriya has a Quirk. I’ve seen it, and I also know Deku doesn’t have one. If he had a Quirk at his disposal, he would’ve used it by now. If Deku did have a Quirk at this point, he’d be a lot more dangerous and he’d know that. He’d want the world to know that. Villains like Deku thrive on fear.”

“But Sir,” Iida’s hand shoots up, and Aizawa-Sensei cocks his head as an invitation for the engine-Quirked teen to continue, “if that’s the case, how are we supposed to trust Midoriya? Where’d his Quirk come from? I agree with Uraraka, if one Midoriya is diagnosed Quirkless, shouldn’t the other be too? Midoriya has a Quirk—aren't we being a little bit too trusting?”

“No,” Sensei huffs, arms crossing over his chest, “we know virtually nothing about the Quirk that sent Midoriya here, and we know even less about his reality, so I can’t tell you why one has a Quirk and the other doesn’t. Reality travel is a foreign concept, and we can’t begin to understand it without more information that we have zero access to.

“What matters here is that Midoriya has proven his position in his reality. Not just with providing information that is parallel to ours, but with an ID card that was on his person when he arrived.”

“But Sensei—”

Aizawa-Sensei snaps his attention to Yaoyorozu, who instantly cuts herself off at his sharp look, before he glares around the room, “Midoriya is not on trial, and he certainly wouldn’t be on trial by students. All you need to know is that Midoriya has been cleared by three Pro Heroes and a Lie Detector Quirk who have met, spoken to and determined that Midoriya is not Deku. End of story. There’s no longer any question of if his story is viable or not; he’s been cleared.”

The silence is so quiet it’s almost loud to Izuku’s ears. He hates this. He hates the looks they’re shooting him, and sure, he’s not being attacked anymore, but he’d almost prefer it to this.

Sensei heaves a sigh, rubbing at his eyes with his thumb and middle finger.

“Look,” the man calls attention, hand falling to cross over his chest, “we might not understand everything right now, but we understand enough to make a logical decision regarding Midoriya’s wellbeing. There are going to be Quirks in this world that you won’t understand. That’s just how this world works. Midoriya is innocent, Deku is not. Now, for the time being, he’s under Yuuei protection, and he will be my personal student. I highly suggest you all keep that in mind.”

“That... makes sense,” Kirishima scratches at his head, “I think?”

“It’s still scary though,” Hagakure offers cautiously, “I mean, he is Deku, isn’t he?”

“He’s not,” Kacchan defends before Aizawa-Sensei can even open his mouth. “You Extras are thick-skulled. That's not Deku—and if any of you’d met the real Deku, you’d agree.”

“You’re taking this awfully personally,” Ashido calls accusingly from across the room, “what’s the deal with that? You buddy-buddy with Midoriya already, Kacchan?”

“Shut the fuck up, Raccoon Eyes.” Kacchan grits out dangerously, but doesn’t bother adding anything else. The ashy-haired teen turns away abruptly, ignoring the questions entirely as he glares out the window. Izuku watches his childhood friend with a frown.

"Enough," Sensei snaps, "all of you."

There’s a moment of tense silence, everyone’s glancing around the room—looking at their friends to try and determine how everyone’s feeling about the situation. Izuku feels a lot of eyes on him, but he doesn’t dare look up. It’s uncomfortable; it feels like he’s under a microscope and 1-A is dissecting him apart.

Soon the silence lifts to low mutters and mumbles as the students chat amongst themselves, still glancing at Izuku every so often. It hurt more than he’d care to admit that they’re clearly waiting for him to lash out or to try to harm them in some way.

He can’t help but feel the tug of longing that he’s not a part of it.

This isn’t his class, even if it is. He should be sitting over in seat eighteen, chattering and theorizing with his classmates.

He misses his class.

“Quiet,” Aizawa-Sensei calls from the front of the room after kindly letting them chat for a few minutes. He sounds tired, but his voice is clear and final, instantly drawing in everyone’s attention, Izuku included.

The man lets the silence ring for a second before finally speaking, “listen to me now, none of you have to trust Midoriya. That’s not what this is about; I can’t, and won’t force you to. That decision is entirely yours, but know that I do trust him. I get this is hard to believe, and you all have a right to feel what you feel in this situation. There is no right or wrong way to feel about something like this.

“However, that doesn’t give you any right to take your frustrations or fear out on Midoriya. I know nothing’s happened yet; this is merely a warning to all of you. He is not Deku. They are not the same. For the time being, he will be sitting in on all of my classes—that includes homeroom and Heroics training. Midoriya will be around, and there will be consequences if I hear of any of you treating Midoriya any differently than you would your peers.”

“S-sensei,” Izuku turns to look at him, nervously wringing his hands together, “it’s okay, I-I—”

“No,” Aizawa-Sensei frowns, “it’s not okay. This is a class of Pro Hero trainees, and if they can’t treat an innocent individual who looks like someone they don’t like with respect, they have no place in my class. You are not Deku, Midoriya. You won’t be treated as a villain when you’re not, and I’ll make sure of it.”

Izuku stutters through his own thoughts, glancing nervously around the room.

They all look fairly conflicted now, and Izuku hates that he’s the one doing it. This is awful for them—he's a villain here and Aizawa-Sensei is asking them, Heroes-in-training, to ignore the fact and treat him like a normal person. It sounds ridiculous.

“Here’s the deal,” Sensei continues to the class, arms crossing over his chest. “If you don’t like, or trust Midoriya: avoid him. It’s simple. He won’t be seeking you out, and if you want nothing to do with him, that’s fine. If you’re curious, ask him questions. He’ll be shadowing me whether you like it or not, because this is the safest place for him.”

Aizawa-Sensei draws in a breath, finally coming out from behind his desk and standing beside Izuku. His voice is curled with understanding, “you’re all afraid of Deku, and you should be. It’s rational with what we’ve seen and know of the villain. He is a threat, but remember that if Deku gets word that he’s here, Midoriya is a target. He’s a sitting duck in this world, and he’ll be in danger just as much as any of us.”

The bell rings, and Izuku is surprised by how fast homeroom went.

If their schedule is the same in both realities, the class will be heading to Math with Ectoplasm-Sensei now.

Aizawa-Sensei leans against his podium, eyeing his students.

They all remain seated despite the bell. It would be stupid to dismiss themselves, especially in Aizawa-Sensei's class. Izuku’s own class had only done it once, and they’d paid the price in terms of running suicide sprints. Lots, and lots of running.

“Please keep this quiet for now.” He says to the class, and everyone seems a little surprised at Aizawa-Sensei using please. “This is a Hero school, and Deku has a lot of enemies. Midoriya doesn’t. I’m not asking you to not say anything; you’re welcome to talk amongst yourselves—I encourage it actually. Bottling things up does harm, so don’t feel like you have to, but try to keep it confidential within the class. I will stop by the dorm common area after classes today, and you’re welcome to bring up any questions or concerns at that point.”

Izuku bows his head and avoids looking at everyone. He can feel them staring, knows he has everyone’s eyes on him, and it makes his skin buzz with nerves. He wonders if it’s clicked yet that he’ll be staying up in the apartment over the dorms with Aizawa-Sensei and Present Mic.

If they even know Present Mic lives there too...

“You’ll have enough time to make it to Ectoplasm’s class before the bell, so don’t dawdle,” Aizawa-Sensei heaves a sigh, “and just as a reminder, I will not be your teacher for Heroics this afternoon, you’ll have Vlad King and All Might guiding class and you’ll be working with class 1-B on some simulation exercises. Dismissed.”

The students stand slowly, and are quick to gather their belongings. Izuku keeps his gaze ducked until Sensei continues loudly, “Bakugou, you’re with me for first period. Someone tell Ectoplasm that I have him—if he has questions, tell him to email me.”

There are a couple mumbled ‘yes Sensei’s, as well as Iida promising to pass on the message. Aizawa-Sensei watches them leave without saying anything else.

When it's just the three of them left alone in the room, the underground Hero calls their attention by clearing his throat, “I think there’s a lot the three of us have to discuss after what just transpired.”

Kacchan glares, but Izuku just swallows nervously.

Oh no.

Shota can’t say he expected homeroom to turn out quite like it did— he’d expected hesitance, and concern; fear. He had expected that the student would react similarly to the teachers, but he’d known he has more control over the student then he does the teachers.

He knows some of his students had seen Deku at the USJ before he’d pulled his Houdini act and disappeared without a trace, leaving a mess of destruction behind him. He knows that they’d gotten peeks at his face from afar, so it wasn’t unrealistic for any of them to be able to ID him, he just hadn’t expected anything to happen so fast.

In hindsight, he probably shouldn’t have let the fact Bakugou had met Deku previously slip his mind, but in forgetting, it had raised some very disturbing red flags.

There was obviously some sort of connection between the two— not just Midoriya with his Bakugou in his reality, the cute, childlike nickname of Kacchan that Midoriya had called him was hard to ignore, and Bakugou’s recollection and reaction to the name was interesting.

Midoriya’s name for his own Bakugou had Shota’s Bakugou recoiling as if it was familiar. Odd.

And it wasn’t like Bakugou was hearing the name for the first time; miffed and disgusted at a Deku look-alike calling him some cutesy foreign pet name— that was the reaction of someone who hadn’t heard that specific nickname in ages.

Like when Hizashi decides to be an asshole and call him Shocchan with the sole intention to get a rise out of him, which does always get on his nerves. What a stupid nickname—

But that’s beside the point.

It was fear and hesitance all rolled into one snide scowl.

Shota hasn’t known these children for much more than a couple months at this point, but that’s more than enough time to determine their personalities and characters. To pick them apart and come to conclusions of what he needs to do to help them, and what he needs to keep an eye on.

Bakugou had always been a wildcard, since that very first day. There weren’t any acts of aggression or violence he’d seen, nor was there anything on his previous school records that were cause for concern—he’d never done anything over the top concerning in class, besides his sometimes quite hostile attitude, at least, but there was just something about his character, his demeanor, that had Shota keeping a closer eye on him.

There was familiarity in how he regarded Midoriya. How he’d looked at Midoriya and had been able to spot the difference between Deku and Midoriya with nothing more than the green-haired teen saying no more than ten words... there was more to this. He missing something.

Not just in Midoriya’s reality, but theirs as well.

He leads the two teen boys through the school, pausing outside the teacher’s office and opening the door just enough to peek in and confirm that it’s empty. He knows only himself and Hound Dog have first period free, and Hound Dog usually has business to attend to in the Guidance Office.

Satisfied that the room is empty, Shota holds the door open for the two boys to enter.

Midoriya walks a quick, nervous feet, whereas Bakugou is dragging his feet, eyes narrowed and unwavering on Midoriya.

There’s a conference room that Nezu likes to use hidden away in the back of the office, and Shota suspects that the soundproof interior is probably the best place to have this conversation.

He doesn’t quite know what will come from this—but he has a bad feeling that Bakugou knows more then he’d let on.

It had been about a month since the boy had been rescued from the League.

They’d never really stopped to think about how Bakugou would come out of his time in the League’s custody with Deku’s civilian name, when no one had even heard whispers of it prior.

Thinking about it now, it seems... convenient.

Not in the way that Shota thinks Bakugou has any hand in anything, but in the way that maybe... maybe the kid isn’t telling them the whole truth.

Shota will admit he was more focused on getting Bakugou to safety then thinking about the name the teen had muttered under his breath when he’d finally be rescued. His priority was tending to his student who’d spent three days in the hands of Japan’s current most dangerous villains.

Tsukauchi, in turn, had jotted the mumbled name down and then seen to helping with evacuation, search and rescue, as well as cleaning up the aftermath of All Might’s fight with the villain behind Shigaraki and the League of Villains. All for One, or something.

Later, the police had run with the information given, taking it and running it through various databases— anything they could dig up on Midoriya Izuku was valuable. He’d had no identity for almost an entire year— just captured villains grinning smugly and muttering one single word that proved his existence and threat level: Deku.

There’s not a lot the police can do with just a Villain name, so since the teen had debuted in his own way of offering Pro Hero weaknesses to villains asking, they hadn’t been able to do anything. There’s not much to search with a made-up name, and no telling damning information—not even a Quirk to work with.

The first they’d even seen Deku was at the USJ, and Shota was really the only one to get a decent look at him before he was gone. And even with that, he didn’t quite manage anything useful when he’d glance over between villains challenging him—dark hair, an inky green, or perhaps even black. Dressed nice, sharp waistcoat and tie combo, with obvious lack of intention of joining in the fight. Maybe freckles. Short, scrawny and lean. He could tell the villain was young, but couldn’t pinpoint anything past that— under twenty, at least.

It honestly probably should’ve been looked into further, when Shota thinks about it, they'd had no information on him whatsoever, and then suddenly they had a civilian identity curtesy of Bakugou Katsuki. How had he gotten so much after just three days of being captive?

They hadn’t thought to question Bakugou further. He’d been taken to the hospital, and released to his parents after his statement had been taken. Shota hadn’t even seen the kid again until he was going house to house and asking parents and guardians to trust Yuuei enough to allow their children into the dormitory program.

They should’ve been smarter. They should’ve thought it through more.

They should’ve thought, even if just for a second, about how Bakugou had known Deku’s name. That’s not the kind of information a villain would share with their captive— especially one like Deku who kept in the shadows. Deku kept himself out of the public eye, with nothing but the villain's name Deku being spoken of.

Other villains took his proffered information and did his dirty work.

So, how had Bakugou known?

...unless there was more to this?

There’s a couch in the room, and an armchair that Shota positions to face the two teenagers. The conference table is there too, but he doesn’t bother using it. There’s only the three of them, and he doesn’t want too much space between them.

The two boys perch on either side of the couch, Midoriya curled in tight like he had been at the police station, while Bakugou is gritting his teeth and glaring off to the side.

Shota tries to carry his uninterested air, but he knows he looks more perplexed than he’d like.

“Which one of you wants to start?” Shota drawls, hoping it comes off uninterested.

Neither boy says a thing. Midoriya’s eye flick nervously to Shota, and then Bakugou, then down to his lap where he’s tugging at his fingers, and Bakugou just clenches his teeth harder.

Shota worries for a second the blond might break a tooth.

“Midoriya,” Shota bites back a sigh, selection the one he thinks will break first. He’s had no trouble explaining things thus far, so Shota hopes it continues. “How do you know Bakugou?”

The teen startles at being spoken to, nervous eyes glancing up, “w-we, um, we’re classmates?”

“I got that,” Shota huffs, trying not to get annoyed at the dancing around the subject. “How else? Unless you’re telling me that you and Bakugou are just classmates in your reality, which seems odd considering the display I just witnessed in class. I doubt that’s all you two are. I’ve believed you thus far, I hope you’re not lying to me now, Midoriya.”

“I-I’m not!” Midoriya yelps hurriedly. He takes a second to compose himself after the outburst, rubbing anxiously at the back of his neck, “we are classmates, like I said, it’s just... we um, we’ve known each other since we were little— i-in my reality. M-my mom and... and Auntie, I um, I mean, Bakugou-San have always been friends. Since, uh, s-since we were born, at least...”

Huh.

Shota lets that sink in before glancing at Bakugou who’s eyes are narrowed, but not at anything in particular. Shota clears his throat and Bakugou’s eyes flick towards him, “and you?”

“Ditto.”

Shota narrows his eyes, “and you didn’t think that was an important piece of information to share when you found out Deku’s identity? There was a motive behind your kidnapping, Bakugou— you should’ve told us.”

Bakugou grits his teeth again, pointedly looking away from Shota.

The man shuts his eyes in an attempt to calm himself down and not lash out at the teenager before him, blinking his eyes open and looking back at Midoriya, “what else?”

“We...” the teen swallows, “we’ve always gone to school together. Elementary, Junior High— I... I don’t know. I’ve always looked up to Kacchan—he's got a strong Quirk and even though he wasn’t always... um, nice, I always knew he’d be a good Hero.”

“How can you still say that? After everything I did to you?” Bakugou turns abruptly to Midoriya, “you said you didn’t get a Quirk until the entrance exam. That means you were still Quirkless when we were in school and I still... how the hell can you look at me now and say bullshit like that?”

“It’s not bullshit, Kacchan,” Midoriya rolls his eyes, like he’s used to this. “It’s the truth! You’re a good Hero. Aizawa-Sensei wouldn’t have kept you in class if you didn’t have any potential, and we both know that. I always knew you would be a great Hero!”

“I’m a fuckin’ asshole! I tormented you. You let me torment you. I said— ...I said shitty things to you, and you still call me that? You still believe that I... you still look at me like— I don’t understand! Deku hates me, and for good fuckin’ reason. Deku... Deku turned into a villain after I... after... why the hell didn’t you?”

Shota suddenly feels like he’s no long on the same wave length as the two teenagers.

“After what, Kacchan?” Midoriya snarls, and it’s the most emotion Shota’s seen from the kid. In the negative, at least. His eyes are narrowed, challenging. “After you told me to ‘take a swan dive off a tall building and hope for a Quirk in my next life’?”

Shota’s body tenses as those words register. “What?”

“Yes! You know exactly what I’m talking about. It happened to you too. I said that stupid fucking bullshit to you in both realities.” The blonde roars, turning completely towards Midoriya and grabbing fistfuls of his uniform once again. Shota jolts to tear them apart, but pauses just as fast when: “and you did.”

“I— w-what?” Midoriya breathes out, staring wide-eyed down at Bakugou.

“You did it.” Bakugou’s head is ducked, almost pressing between where his hands hold a bone-white grip on Midoriya’s uniform. “You fuckin’ did it, Izuku. Shit, you-you left a stupid fuckin’ suicide note under you stupid fuckin’ red shoes on the ledge of that shitty bridge in the outskirts of town. They didn’t care— the cops. Heroes. They didn’t even care enough to try’n fish out your body. They didn’t even try to find you. Not when you first went missing, and not when your note and shoes were found. You were dead. Pronounced dead. I thought you really did it, you jackass”

“But I’m not... he’s not—”

“Yeah,” Bakugou scoffs, finally shoving Midoriya away, “no shit. Imagine my fuckin’ surprise to come face to face with a dead guy. I went to your funeral. I was there with my mom consoling your mother after the service. You had some fuckin’ nerve, Midoriya. You have no idea what that did to her.”

“M-mom?”

The blonde gives a tight nod, “she was never the same after the cops showed up and told her what you’d done— what everyone thought you’d done. She wouldn’t eat, wouldn’t get out of bed. All she wanted to do was sleep. My mom had her admitted into the psych ward and she hasn’t made any improvements. You were her entire fuckin’ life and you just... you gave it up. Gave her up, all so you could go play villain. And you didn’t even care. You didn’t even ask about her.”

“I-I would never—”

“You’re not Deku, Midoriya,” Shota feels the need to remind. His head is spinning just listening to this, but he knows he can’t let Midoriya spiral for something he didn’t do. “Bakugou, this is not your Midoriya Izuku.”

“I know,” the blonde spits, glaring at his teacher, “you wanted an explanation, well, here it is, Sensei. I’m a piece of shit. Deku faked his own suicide and I believed he actually did it because I told him to. I’ve thought for months—almost a year— that he was dead. That it was my fault that he died because I told the bastard to do it, and he did. It’s all my fault. Expel me. Arrest me. I don’t know.”

“Kacchan...” Midoriya frowns.

“Listen,” Bakugou manages out, voice tight with barely contained emotion as he turns towards Midoriya, “I didn’t mean it. I really didn’t fuckin’ mean it. I was stupid, and an asshole and you were an easy target. I just said it and didn't think—I didn’t mean for you to... I didn’t think you’d... Fuck, Izuku, I’m sorry.”

“I don’t blame you,” Midoriya whispers, “I never did. I was... I was more annoyed when you told me to. Honest. That day... that day you went a little hard on my Analysis book too— I was more upset about that. My copy in my reality is still waterlogged and burned, I had to rewrite the whole thing and it was super annoying. I only keep it for All Might’s signature now.”

The green-haired teen pauses, seeming to notice he’d strayed from the topic.

He sucks in a breath, catching Bakugou’s eyes again, “I... I know you didn’t mean it. I knew then. You were always a jerk, but you’d never gone that far. I knew it was more a show for your friends than anything else. If you meant it, you would’ve said it when we were alone. It hurt, a lot, to hear, but I think that was the point I realized you wouldn’t ever be my friend again, but I wouldn’t jump just because you told me to.”

“But you did,” Bakugou wrinkles his nose. “You went missing for two days, and then that note showed up. We thought you were dead. I thought you were dead. I thought you killed yourself because of me, Izuku.”

“It wasn’t you,” Midoriya sighs out with a shake his head, “—o-or it wasn’t you in my reality. I don’t know what happened to your Midoriya Izuku, but if he’s anything like I was, a comment from you wouldn’t have made him do anything drastic. I-I mean, I thought about it, for like a second after... b-but I wouldn’t. There’s mom to think about and being a Hero. And... and things started turning around for me that day. Y’know, you always said I couldn’t be a Hero, and some part of me really wanted to prove you wrong too. That might be why you’re always to testy in class.”

“Well consider me proven wrong. Even if it’s not your Bakugou Katsuki, it’s one of them,” Bakugou drawls, the corners of his lips twitching up faintly. “Sensei said we’re in the same class. In your world, at least. That means you really did get into Yuuei, even after we all... and our Junior High Sensei... that’s real cool, Izuku. It was always your dream.”

“Yeah,” Midoriya laughs, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment, “you hate it, but I don’t think you hate me anymore. We’re getting better at working together. I’m pretty sure you tried to kill me on the first day of school, and Aizawa-Sensei was the only reason you didn’t. We can work together now without trying to kill each other. Nothing like that’s happened since the Battle Trials on the second day of school!”

“Uh, yeah,” Bakugou raises an eyebrow, glancing back at Shota. The man himself can only shrug—probably something else that’ll give him a migraine and a heart attack simultaneously.

He really should send hate mail for Midoriya’s Aizawa Shota back with the kid. Maybe that’ll be the kick in the ass the other Aizawa needs to get his shit together and help this child.

“That all sounds about right though,” Bakugou snuffs, “so Analysis is a universal Midoriya trait then, eh?”

Midoriya shrugs, “I’ve never stopped, no matter what you or anyone else said. It’s useful.”

“And dangerous,” Shota adds casually. Both boys startled, like they’d forgotten he was in the room with them. “I have a lot of questions. And we’re going to be having a nice long chat later—both of you. Especially you, Bakugou.”

Midoriya winces, but Bakugou just steels himself like he’s prepared for the worst.

“You can’t expel him, Sensei,” the green-haired teen whispers.

“Oh?” Shota cocks his head to the side. Consequences are definitely in order from what he’s heard, but he’d yet to decide if expulsion is the way to go. There’s a lot to consider, but he can’t just ignore something like this. “And why not?”

“I... I know what he did was bad—but he’s not a villain. He will make a good Hero. He’s a good person. Y-you can’t punish him for something that happened so long ago—for something he did before he matured. I-I'm sure he’s already been punishing himself.”

“Don’t defend me,” Bakugou scoffs, “I deserve consequences. If Sensei wants to expel me, so be it. If I’m arrested, I deserve it. I was a dick to you, and I deserve a punishment for that.”

“That’s so harsh for something you did as a kid—”

“I was fourteen years old, Izuku. I knew better.”

“You didn’t though,” Midoriya shakes his head, “no one ever stopped you. Seriously, Sensei, the teachers didn’t care. I know enough now to believe that Deku and I grew up the same way. S-something changed, but it wasn’t that. A-and I know you’re Underground, so you’ve seen a-and you also have a less than ideal Quirk, even if it’s super cool. You... you know discrimination. Quirk discrimination is awful but... but Quirkless discrimination if worse, and people don’t care.”

Shota stays quiet as Midoriya clenches his fists. “I know what Kacchan did was bad—but his whole future shouldn’t be ruined because he made one dumb comment to a Quirkless kid when he never got reprimanded once since we were little kids. He should’ve known better, sure, but that doesn’t mean he did. That doesn’t mean anyone actually told him what he was doing was wrong. B-besides... you decided yourself he had potential.”

“I determined his potential before I had all the facts,” Shota tells the teen slowly, then, he reminds, as if Midoriya didn’t already know, “what Bakugou did was suicide baiting.”

“And you and I both know it was more than one,” Bakugou grits out. “I may not have told you to take a swan dive, but I did bully you.”

“Y-you,” Midoriya points a finger at Bakugou, “shut up. I’m trying to plead your case here. A-and, Sensei, I really do know. It was wrong of him, and he... he really shouldn’t have said it. Trust me, I know what he did, and how wrong it was. But I never t-took him seriously, and I doubt Deku did either.”

Midoriya draws in an almost shaky breath, “I just don’t think he should get expelled over it. He’s changed— I can see that now. My Kacchan’s changed. He grew up, and he’s not the same kid who told me to jump off a roof. The Kacchan who told me to jump off a roof would never have apologized to me, but he did just now. You did. You’re not that person anymore, Katsuki.”

Shota has that sick feeling again that this is yet another thing that Midoriya’s Aizawa doesn’t know about. Something else that clearly affected this child’s life, whether for the better, or for the worse, and he doesn't know. Bakugou had tormented Midoriya; had said unspeakable things, and yet they’re still in class together.

He apparently still pairs them together, from what he’s gathered from Midoriya.

“He... He shouldn’t get off free, I agree he deserves a punishment of some kind for what he did... you don't learn from your mistakes if you're not taught they're mistakes.” Midoriya shakes his head, hands now dripping the fabric of his uniform pants, “but he shouldn’t be expelled. What he did was wrong, but it really shouldn’t end his career as a Hero before he’s even had a chance to start. I’ve worked with Kacchan in class, I know this is where he belongs, Sensei.”

Shota leans back in his chair and watches the two boys.

He searches Midoriya first, for any dishonesty.

It doesn’t make much sense.

He knows only what the teen has said about his own relationship with his own reality’s Bakugou Katsuki thus far, and he can’t say it’s very positive. He still can’t help but look for some sort of power imbalance between the two—Midoriya feeling like he has to please Bakugou for whatever reason, but he doesn’t spot anything of the sort.

He tries to locate anything that could be a reason he’d vouch so seriously for the bully who’d apparently suicide baited him. He doesn’t find anything past the determined fire alit in green eyes.

He’s starting to think this is just Midoriya’s personality.

He wonders what the hell had to have happened to Deku to change him into the villain he is now. They’re just so different, but they’d started out the same, according to what Midoriya has pieced together and what Bakugou has confirmed of Deku.

When he turns his prying eyes onto Bakugou, they narrow in thought.

Bakugou is watching Midoriya, expression wavering between confusion and exasperation. There’s a distant fondness buried in his gaze too, and Shota can only imagine Deku was at some point just like Midoriya.

It’s obvious these two did know each other prior to Deku’s apparent suicide, which he will be talking to Tsukauchi about because what the fuck? Did he not think it was useful to inform everyone that the villain they’re after is a presumed dead Quirkless kid?

Shota shakes his head, lifting a hand to drag through his hair. The action draws in both teenager’s gazes.

“You won’t be expelled,” he decides tightly. Midoriya shoots him a thankful grin, while Bakugou’s shoulders slump slightly like he’d been prepared to shoulder through an expulsion lecture. “Midoriya has pleaded your case, and knowing what I do now of your and Deku’s relationship now, I doubt he’s done with you. You’re safest here.”

Shota pauses, looking between the two, picking their expressions apart minutely.

He heaves a sigh, rubbing at his eyes. “I’ve seen the changes in your character since the start of the year as well; it’s obvious you are not the same hot-headed brat who threw that baseball on the first day of school. That doesn’t change what you’ve done— the harm you’ve caused, whether meaning to or not, but your attitude and willingness to accept blame and punishment now has opened doors for change and redemption.”

“Thank you, Sensei,” Bakugou bows his head, despite the fists settled on his thighs.

“That said,” Shota clicks his tongue, “you will be getting consequences for your actions. What you did was wrong. What you say always has a chance of hurting deeper than you can know, which is why you need to do better. You want to be a Hero. A Hero doesn’t aim to hurt someone, and its unacceptable that you have. Discrimination is not a good trait for a Hero to have, and we will be working on that now that it’s been brought to my attention. Now, I assume I don’t need to tell you that if I ever hear of you saying anything of the sort again, it’ll be an automatic expulsion.”

“Yes, Sensei,” Bakugou mutters dutifully.

“Good,” Shota continues as if the teen hadn’t said a word, “now, you’ll be on house arrest for one week. In which time I will be assigning you chores and essays on Quirklessness and discrimination that will, ideally, expand your field of view. You will have those completed by the time your arrest is finished; half-ass your work and we’ll start from square one, got it? It’ll be your time you’re wasting if you don’t put in the effort to be better.”

“I got it,” Bakugou snaps.

Shota doesn’t take it to heart—that's an overwhelmed snap, not a blatant anger one.

“In addition,” Shota narrows his eyes, “you’re going to be having mandatory bi-weekly visits with Hound Dog. This is not a punishment, it’s for your wellbeing and it’s not up for debate any longer. You refused this when I suggested it at the beginning of the year, but I will not back down a second time. A good Hero will not resort to anger in the way you tend to do— you’ll end up like Endeavor and the world doesn’t need two of him. There’s nothing wrong with needing some help dealing with things, Bakugou. The suicide, feigned or not, of a childhood friend is traumatic. Being kidnapped is traumatic.”

Bakugou looks like he wants to fight it again, but then the boy pauses before he says anything, and glances to the side where Midoriya is glancing between the two of them. The blonde grits his teeth again, crossed his arms tightly across his chest and slumps back into the couch, “fine.”

Shota gives a satisfied nod before glancing at Midoriya, “Ideally, I’d be putting you into counselling as well. What I’ve heard so far is troubling, Problem Child, it’s a lot to shoulder alone. And if it weren’t for your unique situation, I’d insist. I’d ask if you’ve seen anyone about this in your reality, but I’m starting to question your Aizawa’s competence.”

Midoriya lets out a startled snort of laughter.

“My Aizawa-Sensei is a good teacher too. He’s doing the best he can,” the teen shrugs before quieting and hesitating, “he doesn’t know, so you can’t blame him.”

“You should tell him,” Shota scratches at his head, “we can’t help you if we don’t know what’s going on. I can’t help where you’re from, I can only make changes here. If he’s anything like me, Midoriya, he’d want to know so he can improve your learning environment. For both of you. It sounds like you’ve both struggled with your past and present together.”

“M-maybe,” the child shrugs, hunching his shoulders up to his ears as a defense.

Shota supposes it’s better than a straight up no. It’s not like he can force the kid into anything, and he can’t pass the message on either. He’ll have to put his trust in the fact Midoriya seems like he has a good head on his shoulders.

“Alright,” Shota sighs. “House arrest will start tomorrow—normally I would make you catch up on everything you miss by yourself, as part of the punishment, but you can have today to get a head start on gathering the classwork being assigned over the week you’re out. I doubt any of the other teachers will have a problem giving you the work you’ll be missing. It's up to you though.”

“Wow!” Midoriya grins, “that’s so nice! When you gave us house arrest after the preliminary Hero License exam, you didn’t let us do that! We had to catch up all on our own. You were really mad though.”

Shota blinks, eyeing the teenager. He hasn’t had to put anyone on house arrest yet, but it’s really not surprising that in Midoriya’s universe both he and Bakugou were probably the first.

“Hah?” Bakugou cocks an eyebrow, “what are you on about?”

“Oh—” Midoriya laughs to himself, snickering behind his hand, “right. Um, we fought after the exam, and Sensei caught us. I’m sure we would’ve had it worse if All Might wasn’t there to cover for us, but, um, Sensei was unimpressed.”

Bakugou blinks. “All Might?”

“I’m sensing a theme here with you and your Aizawa not knowing things that are clearly important,” Shota sighs heavily, waving a dismissive hand in Bakugou’s direction, “do I even want to know what that was about, Problem Child?”

“Ah,” Midoriya shakes his head until his curls are covering his eyes, “probably not, Sensei. It wouldn’t make much sense here anyways.”

Bakugou is glancing at Shota now, an eyebrow cocked in confusion. Shota waves him off a second time—he doesn’t have the time, nor the patience to explain the alternate reality can of worms to Bakugou right now.

“Okay then,” the man drawls with a sigh. “Second period will be starting soon, and I have to teach the third-years. Bakugou, you know where you’re going, and I suggest you take today to get yourself ready.”

“You’ll need it,” Midoriya offers helpfully, “a week is a long time.”

“Yeah, yeah,” the ashy-haired teen huffs, already standing up. He glances back at Midoriya, “can we talk later?”

“Uhm,” Midoriya bites his bottom lip and glances at Shota, clearly questioning.

“We’ll see,” Shota leans forwards, exhaustion creeping up on him. He doesn’t know how he’s going to get through the rest of the day—which includes introducing Midoriya to two more classes of Heroes in training. “Now, get to class before you’re assigned more punishments for tardiness.”

Bakugou grits his teeth, but arches into a bow anyways, “yes, Sensei. Thank you, Sensei.”

“Have a good day, Kacchan!” Midoriya calls as Bakugou walks stiffly to the door.

The ashen-haired teen pauses, glancing back. He glares a lesser glare then Shota’s used to seeing before cocking his head in response, “yeah. You too. Try not to get yourself killed here.”

And then the kid’s gone.

Shota raises an eyebrow at his departure, glancing over at Midoriya. He’s not expecting to see the kid grinning widely, “Kacchan’s so nice here! He really is very different to my Kacchan, Sensei. I don’t think you’ll have quite as many problems as my Sensei does.”

How that is nice, Shota will never know.

Midoriya really is a complex puzzle that he needs to solve. He’s going to make it his mission, and he’ll find a way to report back to his reality so the Aizawa Shota over there gets his head out of his ass and actually notices the kid.

“Right,” he offers drily, “well, c’mon. Class will be starting soon, and it won’t be a good example if we show up late. You’ll be sitting at my desk for second and third period since both classes are full. I don’t have anything for you to work on today, but I can ask the first-year teachers to make extra copies of their assignments, if you’d like?”

“Thank you,” Midoriya bows his head, standing up after Shota and following him to the door, “I don’t know if time is passing in my reality, but I don’t want to fall behind, and there’s no harm in getting ahead if it’s not, right?”

Why does that not surprise him?

Isolated in a reality that’s not his own, and he’s worried about falling behind in his own classes.

There’s really no doubt.

Midoriya Izuku is a Problem Child to the fullest extent.

Chapter Text

Second and third period go a lot smoother than first had.

Unlike his first class, there wasn’t a single student who’d ever really met Deku—even if they’d all heard the Villain’s name before. None of the students know the name Midoriya Izuku, so, while they’re hesitant to have a first year following their teacher around like a shadow and sitting in on their classes, they’re not on edge like 1-A had been after Bakugou’s reaction.

Not yet, at least. He’s sure it’ll come in due time, but with any luck, Midoriya would’ve managed to charm his way in to the dynamic of the Heroics courses enough that they don’t instantly deem him a target when the news ultimately travels.

Shota knows that news will travel. It would be illogical to assume the secret will be kept more than a couple days at most. It’s a big secret, and there are too many people who are aware of it to expect it to stay a secret.

Even if his students don’t let slip, a teacher might. He’s sure by the end of the week, the entire school will know that they either have a Deku look alike in the school, or, if details get lost in the rumor mill like they tend to do, that Deku is currently in the school.

Still, Shota takes the day of quiet before the storm in stride.

He teaches, and Midoriya sits quietly, awkwardly at his desk while absorbing all the information being taught as he tries not to glance out the prying— respectfully so, because they all know better than to gawk— eyes of the second- and third-year classes. Shota can only wonder briefly how much the teen actually retains of the lessons, considering this stuff isn’t even close to what the first years are being taught.

Classes even run smoother than usual because of the new addition. There’s just something about an unknown variable in the classroom that puts students on edge. That quiets them, and makes them behave, not that the second and third years ever misbehave. They’d gotten that out of their systems in their first year.

By the time lunch rolls around, Shota is exhausted.

He’s glad he doesn’t have to teach Fundamental Heroics with Yagi this afternoon, and he’s really looking forwards to taking a long nap on the couch.

He leads Midoriya back into Height Alliance after their morning is finished, and the poor kid looks spooked to be returning to his dorm before the school day’s finished. Shota’s not sure how to address it, how to assure the boy past what he already has, so, instead he asks if Midoriya wants an assignment to pass the time.

The kid shouldn’t brighten as much as he does.

Honestly, he’s curious about the analytic aspect of Midoriya’s character. He’s seen bits and pieces himself, from both Deku and this Midoriya, and Bakugou had mentioned both Midoriyas being good at analysis too, but he’s curious about putting Midoriya up to a challenge.

He knows what Deku can do.

The question is, can this Midoriya do it too?

So, he comes up with a simple enough assignment that will keep the boy distracted long enough for Shota to nap for a while. Hopefully it’ll keep Midoriya entertained.

There’s a television channel that plays strictly Hero Documentaries— those of top and news worthy Heroes worldwide. He doesn’t watch the channel often, but it seems like it would be something up Midoriya’s alley.

“Here,” Shota says as he hands the kid a pencil, eraser and a black cover notebook that hasn’t been opened yet. They’re all spare supplies from the drawer that he and Hizashi are always squirreling things away in— neither of them really use pencils or notebooks, but they still both buy then whenever they see them on sale. Can’t hurt to have them on hand, is usually their excuse to the other when they get caught.

The kid takes the offered items with a cocked head, one eyebrow raising slightly in question.

Shota turns back to the television, snagging the remote control off the coffee table, and turning it on. He doesn’t touch the TV often—unless Hizashi is making him watch American rom-coms.

Not the worst thing for date-night, but could be better.

He flips to the Hero network channel, plopping down on the couch as he reaches over to set the remote back on the coffee table so he doesn’t fall asleep on it, or accidentally change the channel.

He’s quiet for a second as he watches Midoriya’s eyes flick towards the TV, lighting up in interest almost instantly. The man takes another second to organize his words before finally calling the boy’s attention back, “so, has your Aizawa ever asked you about doing an analysis assignment for him?”

The kid shakes his head mutely, and Shota resists the urge to drag his palms down his face in distraught. “I never told him I do it sometimes,” Midoriya shrugs, fiddling with the pencil. “It’s creepy... people don’t like when I analyze them—a-and I don’t show anyone my notebooks anymore. Not since Kacchan—”

The boy bites his lip. Shota really, really wants to ask, but he doesn’t think pushing about Bakugou anymore today is a good idea. Midoriya clears his throat, “people don’t... like it, so I don’t show people anymore.”

“It’s not creepy,” Shota sighs, slumping back against the couch cushions. He lets his eyes slip closed. “It’s a job—an occupation that is highly regarded in the Hero world. There are professional analysists that do what I’ve seen you do and are praised for it. Knowing your weaknesses is useful. There’s nothing creepy about being able to dissect a Quirk in order to improve it. Anyone who’s told you its creepy has been afraid of your potential.”

“A-are you sure, Sensei?” Midoriya asks under his breath, wide eyes casting nervously at Shota’s slouched form. “No one’s ever... e-everyone always...”

The kid swallows, blinking owlishly at Shota.

The man sighs, letting his eyes squint open, “have I ever lied to you?”

The brat quirks his lips upwards in a tiny, almost teasing smile, “well... you did say someone was going to get expelled during the Quirk apprehension test on the first day, and then you didn’t—”

“That doesn’t count,” Shota cuts him off with a huff, squinting at the kid, “I did expel a kid. Your Aizawa didn’t. I was true to my word, he lied.”

“And,” the kid continues with a snicker, “you told us we’d be going camping after are first semester finals, instead of going to a bootcamp during summer break.”

“That— well...” Shota blows out a slow breath through his nose, accepting defeat, “Okay, fine, you got me there. I did do that. But it was a logical ruse, not a lie. Most of my students did well in their exams.”

Midoriya offers a little smile.

“My point,” Shota huffed out, ignoring the smile, “being that analysis is not creepy. It’s useful, and a skill that many Pro Heroes would kill to have. It’s useful, but it can be scary when in the wrong hands— especially when there’s people like Deku running around.”

Midoriya grimaces at the mention of his doppelganger, but the look is gone before Shota can even try to say anything. He knows he can’t just avoid talking about Deku with Midoriya— he needs to know and be aware— but that doesn’t mean his heart doesn’t crack when the boy folds in on himself at the mention.

“You... want me to watch Hero documentaries?”

“And make notes.” Shota reminds easily. “I’m expecting you to put your all into this, so I can gauge where you stand with analysis, alright?”

He sees the kid worrying his bottom lip as he rolls the pencil between his fingers anxiously. His eyes flick to the screen, then back to the teacher. “Are you sure? You won’t think it’s... scary? Creepy?”

“I won’t,” Shota promises. “It’s good practice, and I wasn’t kidding when I said analysis and observational skills are useful as a Hero. There will be lessons in analysis later in the school year, assuming both your Aizawa and I follow roughly the same curriculum plan.”

He pauses, letting his words settle before glancing back over that the thoughtful looking teenager, “being able to disassemble your opponent's Quirk and fight style mid fight is a skill. It gives you an advantage, and it really is a beneficial talent when used appropriately.”

The teen looks back towards the tv again, a close up of All Might’s grinning face. He looks back towards Shota almost suspiciously, “this really doesn’t feel like something Aizawa-Sensei would assign.”

“I’m tired,” Shota shrugs, then promptly turns the shrug into a tired stretch, “and curious about your capability; from what I’ve seen so far— just from quick verbal analysis that you haven’t given more than a couple moments thought about— you’re talented. Plus, this isn’t class, Midoriya, this is an activity that wasn’t assigned, it was offered. You don’t have to do it if you don’t want— you're welcome to choose something else to watch if you’d like.”

“I like this channel,” the boy offers quietly after a long second, and Shota doesn’t doubt it. He’s already determined Midoriya was a Hero fanboy. “I just watch and... and analyze? That doesn’t seem like much of a challenge. I used to do this all the time, Sensei.”

“Perfect,” Shota lets the corner of his lips curl upwards faintly, “even less of an assignment then. Just do what you normally would. Show me what you can make of the Heroes you see. These stupid things show far too much for my comfort, so use the information provided to put together an analysis. Just for me— or even just for you if you’re more comfortable with that.”

“Okay,” the boy whispers, tapping the cover of the notebook. “As long as you’re okay with it.”

“I am,” Shota tells him, because he’s sure the kid is looking for confirmation. Assurance. “I’m going to sleep while you watch. Classes will be over in a couple hours, which I’m sure you know already.”

“Yes, Sensei,” Midoriya bows his head, “I’ll be quiet.”

Deciding that that doesn’t need a response, Shota lets himself tip to the side, and brings his legs up so he’s laying comfortably across the couch. It’s much better than the floor, and so much easier to let his eyes drift shut and his awareness flicker away.

He doesn’t stir until he hears the apartment door open, and Hizashi’s quiet voice greeting Midoriya kindly. The television is still mumbling about Heroes— now focused on Gang Orca. He doesn’t open his eyes as he listens to Midoriya return the greeting albeit a bit stuttered and nervous.

He feels his husband loom over the back of the couch, but takes great care in not moving an inch, even when Hizashi’s hand brushes back his bangs. He can’t tell if his husband knows he’s awake or not.

Either way, the blonde-haired man casually invites Midoriya into the kitchen for a snack, and it’s at that point that Shota realizes he forgot to feed the kid lunch. Shit. Lunch isn’t something he generally does. He’s busy usually; with cafeteria lunch duty rotation, and if not that, he’s working on lesson plans, marking or doing one-on-one extra help with the students. If he’s lucky, sometimes he’ll even manage to rest his eyes for a while—eating isn’t as high a priority to Shota as sleeping is.

He listens to Midoriya standing, the teen trying to be as quiet as possible, and then there’s footsteps leading into the kitchen and the sounds of Hizashi rummaging around in the fridge. Shota suspects Hizashi will make onigiri for the snack, since it’s quick and easy, and there’s already everything he needs to make it in the apartment.

Shota stretches out his arms and sits up, scratching at his hairline as he does so. He drags a hand down his face and palms at his eyes in an attempt to wake himself up.

Hizashi’s home, which means that the students are all returning to the dorms now as well. He did promise them he’d answer some of their questions about Midoriya, so he should probably do that before they storm the apartment in a demand for answers. He wouldn’t put it past them.

He reaches for the remote to turn the television off, since no one is watching it, and pushes himself up. He pads quietly to the kitchen. He’s not trying to be silent—announcing himself with quiet footfalls for Midoriya’s sake.

“How was your nap, Sho?” Hizashi asks with a kind smile, turning to look where Shota’s watching from the doorway. Shota can see the tease glinting in his gaze when Hizashi cocks his head in Shota’s direction. Hizashi definitely knew he was awake.

“Not long enough,” Shota drawls. He takes a moment to take stock of the two people in the kitchen. Midoriya is up at the counter helping Hizashi— not that he expected anything else, really. The teen is settled before the sink washing rice, while Hizashi is at the other side of the counter throwing together a quick tuna filling. Onigiri it is then. “Sorry I forgot to make lunch, Midoriya, it slipped my mind.”

“That’s okay!” The child yelps in surprise, swirling towards where Shota is stood in the door way and waving dismissive hands frantically, “I-I’m okay—I-I wasn’t even that hungry, so it was... um, it was alright. A-and! And, I was so focused on the documentaries that I didn’t even notice either! So, um, it’s okay. Please don’t be sorry.”

“Well,” Shota blinks, picking apart the teen’s words carefully, “either way, I won’t let it happen again. You should be eating three meals a day. Since you’ve gotten here, well over forty-eight hours ago, you’ve had one.”

The child wilts, “I had tea too.”

“That doesn’t really count, Kiddo,” Hizashi snorts from where he’s still focused on the tuna. “Not a solid argument.”

“Not a solid argument,” Shota agrees drily, glancing once again at the child who almost sinks lower where he’s stood. Shota doesn’t like that, so he continues on, “I should know, I’ve tried the exact same argument on Hizashi too.”

“And coffee is almost worse than tea,” Hizashi reprimands lightly. “You’re just lucky you can get away with those jelly pouches—there's at least some nutrients in that. Not that I like you living solely off those either.”

It suddenly feels like he’s being scolded now. How this all turned back onto him, he’s not sure—but Midoriya is hiding a smile in his sleeve, and Hizashi has that playful grin. He decides he’ll gladly be the butt of the joke just this once.

“Alright, alright,” he huffs, “I get it. Don’t take after me, Midoriya. Do as I say, not as I do or however that nonsense goes.”

Midoriya shakes his head as he smiles apologetically almost in agreement, and Hizashi snickers as he returns his attention to his tuna. Silence falls over them as they each return to their tasks.

Shota lets himself smile lightly, before remembering what he came into the room for initially. To tell them he was leaving. He steels his expression, “I’m going to head down to talk to my class.”

“About me?” Midoriya asks quietly, “you said something about answering their questions.”

“Yeah,” Shota sighs, raking his fingers back through his hair, “I think it’s probably best you stay up here for now— if you’re alright with that? I just don’t know how they’ll really react in an out of the classroom setting, and I don’t want to subject you to anything more than you’ve already been witness to if I don’t have to. The teachers were inappropriately brutal, and I know meeting my 1-A class was draining for you as well.”

“That makes sense,” the child agrees softly. “I’m sorry this is causing everyone so much trouble.”

“Nonsense,” Hizashi beats Shota to the punch, “we’d be pretty awful Pro Heroes and teachers if we left this all for you to handle alone, ya’dig? Honestly, Listener, you’re the one who should be owed an apology. It’s your life that was flipped upside-down, we’re just trying our best to catch you so you don’t land on your head.”

“We don’t mind helping you, Problem Child.” Shota tells his softly, not sure if he’s really getting through to the kid considering the faraway look in his eyes. “I’m glad you came to me— that's something your Aizawa’s done right. You obviously trust him enough to search him out when you need help. Out of the three of us, I think this whole ordeal has caused you the most trouble. This is a lot to take in— it's a lot to be alright with.”

“Still,” the boy ducks his head before turning back to glance down at the rice. “I’m sorry for dragging everyone into this.”

Then the boy is turning fully towards the sink, staring down at the bowl of washed rice before he grabs is wordlessly and moves towards the rice cooker on the counter. He’s quiet for a long second until: “Even in a reality where you don’t even know me, I’m still causing all sorts of problems for you.”

Hizashi shoots Shota a sad look, before glancing at where Midoriya is bent over trying to read the worn buttons on the well-used appliance. Shota has the sick feeling again that this is a rooted problem making itself known. Midoriya doesn’t seem to have much self-esteem, and the concept of people helping him— wanting to make sure he’s okay— shouldn’t be such a foreign concept to him.

Besides, from what he’s gathered so far, Midoriya has seemed to be a part of a lot of unfortunate events.

The entrance exam, and the sports festival—heavily injured during both. The USJ. He talked about a fight with the Hero Killer: Stain, the training camp incident and a supposed rescue mission for Bakugou when he’d been kidnapped. He’d mentioned being targeted in a mall by Shigaraki where he thought he was going to die— not to mention the fight after the provisional licensing exam; the one with Bakugou.

There was no argument that Midoriya was probably a student on his reality’s Aizawa’s radar, but that didn’t mean he was causing problems. Shota suspects they just seem to target him like something has taken some sort of sick interest in Midoriya specifically in his reality.

The only incident that sounds, as far as Shota’s heard, like it could’ve been resulted by Midoriya, was maybe the fight he’d had with Bakugou—but then again, it’s Bakugou. He’d definitely have a hand in that.

“I doubt it’s you causing problems, Midoriya,” Shota tells him cautiously, studying the way the teen’s shoulders tense and his back goes ridged. “Dealing with and causing a problem are two different things. You can’t blame yourself for being hit by a Quirk during a patrol— we've all been there. We still slip up sometimes and have to deal with Quirk affects.”

“He’s right, Listener,” Hizashi chimes in softly, “just recently I was hit by a Quirk that took away my ability to make any sounds at all. I couldn’t talk, or anything! It was like my voice box was just gone!”

“It was blissfully silent,” Shota teases drily, taking pleasure in the squawk his husband lets out in mock offense. In truth, which Hizashi is aware of, Shota had greatly missed his husband’s voice for those three days he’d been silent.

“You’re rude!” Hizashi waggles an accusing finger, “listen up, Listener, because Sho’s being a meanie, I’ll tell you about the last time he got hit with a wayward Quirk!”

“Please don’t,” Shota narrows his eyes in warning, but Hizashi just grins.

It’s all the fight he offers, and even then, he knows Hizashi can tell it's a halfhearted request.

If he really didn’t want the story shared, his husband would respect it, but Shota thinks Midoriya really needs something relatable to hold onto right now. What happened to him, as far as they know, was an accident, and that’s okay.

“It was only last year, I believe, and I was so worried because Tsukauchi called in the late evening and said we had a situation—and you know exactly what that means when you’re a Hero, yeah? It could mean anything. Anyways, so, I head to the station and come to find out he’d been hit by a Quirk.

“The kicker here is he was hit by an animal transformation Quirk,” Hizashi laughs as Midoriya turns shyly towards the underground Hero, studying Shota like he doesn’t quite believe it. “Luckily it didn’t last long— Sho was back to his normal self that following morning, but imagine my surprise having to lug home, Sho’s costume, capture weapon and a cat that did nothing but glare at me with glowing red eyes!”

“You got turned into a cat?” Midoriya asks quietly, yet smiling.

Shota huffs, crossing his arms over his chest.

“You got send to another reality,” he retaliates, and prays the kid takes it as the joke it is.

He does— the teenage lifts a hand to his mouth to muffle the snickers, “th-that’s fair.”

Shota bites back the smile at making the kid laugh and easing some of the tension from his shoulders, feeling the need to continue, “it was a forced manifestation of a child— she’d been lost all evening, a missing child alert send out early evening for her. I stumbled across her in severe emotional distress and recognized her from the alert. Happened when I went to pick her up— the skin contact. She just cried harder after that until another underground Hero heard the cries and found us. Saw my costume on the ground and found my license, then called Tsukauchi.”

“And she was returned home safe?” Midoriya’s brows furrowed in concern.

“Sure was!” Hizashi smiles lightly, “Sho circled the little one so no one else got too close, even curled up in her lap and let her pet him until Tsukauchi got there— from what I heard at least. He even swiped at a few people when they went to touch her. Luckily, Erasure still worked in his cat form, so the mother was able to calm her down enough for her Quirk to be deactivated. Only one cat-sualty that night.”

“Right,” Shota agrees easily, ignoring the pun completely. He doesn’t remember much from being a cat, but he does remember drawing blood a couple times, getting cussed out and hissing. “If you could keep this to yourself, Midoriya, I’d appreciate it. The only ones who know about that incident were me, Hizashi, Tsukauchi, that fellow underground Hero who still hasn’t let me live it down, and the child’s mother. And now you, so please keep it between us. My students are nuisances enough without ammunition to make me want to tear my hair out.”

“Nezu also knows,” Hizashi chimes in as an afterthought, “he thought it was funny.”

“God, he was weirdly amused by it,” Shota winces at the reminder. “I don’t even know how he found out. He never said anything directly, but I could just tell he was amused.”

Midoriya glances between the two of them and nods quickly, “I won’t say anything, Sensei.”

“Good,” Shota sighs in relief. He takes a second to refocus back on what led to the retelling of the cat story, clicking his tongue when he remembers Midoriya’s words. Right. They were making a point. “Our point being that Quirk accidents happen— and no one is to be blamed for falling victim to one. If we, who’ve been in the process of being Heroes almost as long as you’ve been alive, can still get caught in a Quirk affect, you shouldn’t hold it against yourself that you happened to get hit by one. And the same can be said about all the fights you’ve been involved in.”

“But I’ve been involved in a lot, Sensei—”

“And I doubt you’ve actively searched them out,” Shota cuts him off softly, ignoring the way the teenager grimaces guiltily. Okay. So, maybe one or two of those fights he’s perhaps searched out then. He’ll get an answer for that later. “It doesn’t even matter if you are causing trouble. You’re my student— that’s obviously clear at this point— and I will help and protect you as best I can.

“You’re learning, Midoriya, just the same as the rest of the first-years,” Shota continues quietly, when the kid still looks hesitant. “No one expects you to be perfect, and considering the year we’ve had, which I assume has been similar to yours, the trouble is there anyways. Besides, I don’t expect my students to know what they’re doing yet— especially the first-years, so I know your Aizawa probably thinks the same. It’s a given that first-years will cause more problems as they learn.”

“Are you sure?” Midoriya asks quietly, not looking at either him, or Hizashi. “I know I’ve already made things difficult—with my classmates, I-I mean your, um, class 1-A, and the teachers and... and when the second and third years figure it out, with them as well...”

“Listen,” Shota stalks towards him, setting a hand on the top of his head and using it as a guiding point to direct his attention up towards his face, “you may be a Problem Child, but you’re not causing trouble. You’re dealing with something shitty here, Midoriya, and I’ll be right by your side until you’re zapped back to where you came from, got it?”

“Got it,” the boy mumbles through watery eyes. He blinks rapidly and looks away sharply before glancing back at Shota, “do you really think I’ll get zapped back?”

“No idea,” Shota snorts, ruffling the soft curls under his fingers. “I hope for your sake it’s a little more graceful than that.”

“Yeah,” Hizashi agrees thoughtfully, “zapped sounds like it’ll hurt.”

“Like Kaminari-kun,” Midoriya gives a nod under Shota’s hand, “I was hit by his Quirk in training once by accident, and it hurt a lot. I hope going home isn’t like that at all. It makes me nervous.”

Shota and Hizashi share a grimace at the thought. “We’re with ya on that one, Lil’ Listener.”

Shota gives one final ruffle of the teen’s hair before pulling back as shoving his hands into the pockets of his uniform, “I should get down there before they come up here.”

Midoriya gives a slow nod.

“I don’t have anywhere to be, so I can hang around up here with you, Kiddo! We can enjoy the onigiri together, yeah? I’m sure we can find something to entertain ourselves with while this Listener’s downstairs.”

“Can we...” the boy hesitates, glancing at Shota like he’s asking permission. Shota just cocks an eyebrow until the kid draws in a nervous breath, looking back at a curious Hizashi, “m-my Present Mic has been teaching us some, um, some sign language. Could we... practice that, maybe?”

“Sign language?” Hizashi perks up, “why of course we can! Wow! I don’t think I’ve ever had a student want to learn before, not from me, at least! How much do you know? How good is your Present Mic, huh? I’d be honored to teach you some more, Listener! This is amazing!”

Hizashi’s words are littered with English, but the kid seems to follow along well enough. Probably does well in Hizashi’s class in his reality as well. He had talked highly of Hizashi’s class and his teaching.

“I’ll leave the two of you to it then,” Shota drawls, eyes flicking between the two of them. “I’ll be back soon. Oh, and save me an onigiri please.”

The students do have a lot of questions.

Eighteen of nineteen students are waiting in the common room downstairs for him, and they have a lot to say. To be fair, it’s not all negative, though there are a couple students hesitant and not quite convinced about Midoriya’s character.

He’d expected it, but he still does his best to squash it down without making it feel like he’s insisting.

To be honest, his entire time downstairs is mostly spent promising that Midoriya is not Deku, assuring the students that there’s no danger with having the green-haired teen around and promising that Midoriya will not harm anyone. He explains that Midoriya will be staying in the apartment above them, but with the same curfew and most of the student seem relatively okay with it. Shota doesn’t think Midoriya is too keen on adventuring out alone after the poor reception he’d gotten thus far.

Iida, Yaoyorozu, Koda, Tokoyami, Uraraka and Asui seem to be the most concerned about Deku staying in the same building as them, though a couple others look uncertain.

Truthfully, more students than not look interested in Midoriya’s presence—and Shota can see why. The whole alternate reality thing where Midoriya knows them all is pretty interesting. Little bits of information no one could know unless they were present being spoken by someone you’ve only known for a couple hours is fascinating.

Then there’s the fact the Midoriya has stories of them all that probably never even happened here. Shota hasn’t gotten to delve very far into that, but he’s just as curious to know too. He can’t say he’s liked most of what he’s heard, strictly from a teacher standpoint, where his double is the boy’s teacher, but it is all interesting.

He’s down with his students for about a half an hour.

They ask their questions, and when they’re sated with his answers, they disappear to their dorms. Towards the end of that half an hour, Shota calls it a night. He’s given as much information as he’s willing to provide, and if they’re still hesitant about Midoriya, that’s fine.

So long as no one does anything rash, they won’t have any problems.

He barely makes it into the apartment upstairs, taking exactly one bite of the saved onigiri as Midoriya and Hizashi chatter back and forth through sign language, a knock comes to the door.

Shota pauses as Midoriya tenses. Hizashi only reacts after the two of them do, and a quick study of him answers that at some point he’d taken his hearing aids out. He’s already comfortable enough around the green-haired teen for that, and it’s a bit surprising.

“I’ll get it,” Shota tells Midoriya signing a quick repeat to Hizashi who’s watching curiously. He leaves his food at the counter and steps into the genkan to answer the door. He’s not expecting to see Todoroki of all his students.

“Todoroki,” Shota greets tiredly, “didn’t I just see you downstairs?”

“Sensei,” the boy bows halfheartedly. “I apologize for the interruption, but can I meet Midoriya? Properly this time?”

That’s surprising.

Shota steels his expression, shifting his weight so he’s leaned against the doorframe and the dual-haired teenager can’t see inside— not that Todoroki is attempting to peer around him at all. “Why the sudden interest?”

“Midoriya mentioned that the Todoroki Shoto in his reality uses his fire side and has since the Sports Festival,” the boy explains without any hesitation, “I want to know why. If ourselves from his reality are so much like us, why does that Shoto use his fire side, but I don’t?”

It’s a solid request.

Todoroki has yet to use his fire side once— Shota hasn’t even seen what the boy was capable of. Frankly, Shota wasn’t even sure the teen still knew how to use his fire side, with how fast he shot the idea down whenever it was suggested. Shota isn’t exactly sure why Todoroki refuses, but he’s almost positive it has something to do with Endeavor.

Shota isn’t willing to force a student to do something they don’t want to, aren’t comfortable doing, so he’d let up on trying to convince the boy to use both sides of his Quirk, and they’d put more effort into honing his ice side. If he wasn’t going to work with both, he should at least be a master of one.

“Any plans to harm him?” Shota asks drily, already knowing it’s a no.

Still, if any of his students were to admit to a secret plan of murder when asked, it would be Todoroki.

“No,” the boy furrows his brow in confusion, “should there be a plan to harm him? I thought Midoriya wasn’t a threat.”

“He isn’t,” Shota shakes his head, “and there shouldn’t. It was a precautionary question. He’s under my, and this school’s, protection. I don’t mind, so long as Midoriya is okay with it. Just like I won’t force any of you to socialize with him, I also won’t force him into anything either.”

“That’s fair,” Todoroki nods. He stands patiently, like he’s waiting for Shota to go fetch Midoriya for him, but all Shota needs to do is sidestep so the kitchen doorway, where Midoriya is hovering, becomes visible. The green-haired child yelps as dual-coloured eyes land on him.

“T-Todoroki-kun,” Midoriya greets shyly, “um, you... you wanted to talk with me?”

“I do,” the boy nods. He glances quickly at Shota, “preferably alone, if you’re alright with that.”

Shota cocks an eyebrow, “why’s that?”

Blue and grey eyes settle back on Shota, “I think Midoriya may know personal information about me and my family that I don’t want to share yet. He said his Todoroki Shoto uses his fire side, but I don’t. Sorry, Sensei, I’d just feel more comfortable.”

“I don’t mind, Aizawa-Sensei,” Midoriya shuffles closer, still hesitating a step or so behind Shota. “Todoroki-kun and I are really good friends in my reality and I... do know some stuff. I trust Todoroki-kun.”

“If you’re sure,” Shota shrugs. He angles his gaze back to Todoroki, who’s still waiting patiently, “I’m trusting you. If anything happens to Midoriya, you’re who I’m coming for. Keep him safe. Now, Midoriya, I assume you know curfew just as well as the students: don’t miss it.”

“I-I do, a-and I won’t!” Midoriya tells him honestly.

“I understand, Sensei.” Todoroki nods. “Come on, Midoriya-kun, we can talk in my dorm room so none of my peers bother us.”

“O-okay,” Midoriya agrees cautiously.

Maybe the teachers had done more damage in their reactions then Shota had thought. The green-haired teen settles for a long second at Shota’s side before finally slipping out the door and following Todoroki down the stairs. Shota watches him go with a light frown, silently praying this goes well.

A positive interaction here would be great for the kid.

When the two boys are completely out of sight and the echoes of their voices are no longer heard, Shota eases the door shut and returns to the kitchen.

“Someone come steal the green-bean then?” Hizashi asks as he fits on of his hearing aids back into his ear. “It was only matter of time—he's quite the enigma, yeah? I’m surprised there wasn’t a hoard of 1-A kids begging for his attention.”

“It was Todoroki, but I’m sure some of the other students will be interested seeing him without a chaperon,” Shota grimaces. “He’s too trusting of us all, ‘zashi, I don’t like it. What he knows of us is impeding the logical thought that we’re not who he knows—even if we are the same people. There’s that inkling of hesitance, but he so willingly went along with Todoroki because they’re friends in his reality.”

“You don’t trust Todoroki?”

“It’s not that,” Shota shakes his head, flopping into the seat Midoriya had been in. “I hope 1-A trusts me enough to accept Midoriya—at least minimally. I just... I think he’s going to put trust into someone here that he would where he’s from, and it’s not going to end well.”

Shota hesitates, throwing his head back and glaring up at the ceiling, “Deku has enemies, and we can’t always be around to mediate. And we can’t just keep him confined— he hasn’t done anything wrong, and I know it’ll hurt him more than help him if we strip away what little control he has here. I just have a bad feeling he’s going to get hurt somewhere.”

“That’s a valid concern,” Hizashi agrees, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth. “I don’t think I really considered how complex and sensitive this is for him. I mean, we have one person here who has a double with a different personality. Midoriya is in an entire world where everyone he knows is the exact same, but he’s a villain. Our views of him have changed drastically and everyone here will react accordingly, whereas we’re all mostly what he knows. We’re what he’s familiar with— comfortable with.”

Shota sucks in a breath and nods. “I know he understands that to a degree, but I think the familiarity between us and what he knows is blurring the line for him, and it will be his downfall. I don’t know how to protect him from that. All it takes is him putting an ounce of trust into someone he shouldn’t.”

“Don’t forget he’s a smart kid,” Hizashi reminds lightly. “We should give him a least a little credit here. He’s seen the teachers react poorly, and 1-A was suspicious as well. He’s hesitant; he’s been looking to you for guidance.”

“How so?” Shota lets his eyes fall onto his husband.

Hizashi smiles softly, “before you left to talk to your kiddos earlier, when he wanted to ask me something, he looked to you first. And when you went to answer the door just now, he followed but stayed out of sight. He’s letting you buffer for him— I don’t think he would’ve hung around if you showed any uncertainty about Todoroki’s intent.”

Shota hadn’t noticed that.

He’d thought Midoriya was just nervous around Hizashi still, and he’d known the kid was behind him when he answered the door, Underground Hero work has heightened his spatial awareness, but he hadn’t realized Midoriya was waiting for an all clear from him. “Huh.”

Hizashi snorts a laugh, “you’re so oblivious sometimes it hurts, Darlin’. I think he’s put most of his trust into the right person, and he knows it. He does trust you, Sho, and he should. Maybe his Aizawa isn’t as bad as you seem to think—”

“No, I’m pretty sure he is,” Shota cuts him off drily. “I know I don’t know the details here, but I can only give him so much leeway when it comes to the students’ safety. That kid should not have as many scars as he does— surgery, ‘zashi, the kid said he fought in the Sports Festival until he needed surgery to fix the damage. Our alternate selves let that happen.”

“Y’know, it’s illogical to judge someone when you don’t know the details,” Hizashi teases.

“It’s a self-assessment,” Shota drawls back with a light smile. And technically, it is. “Nothing wrong with that. I’d want to know if I was being an idiot, and who better to tell me then myself?”

“Nuh-uh,” Hizashi laughs, “that’s not how it works. But, if that’s the way you wanna go, I say you’re being too hard on yourself. Midoriya talks highly of you—or, the you from his reality. Take that in stride.”

“How can I do that when I see everything he’s doing wrong with the poor kid?” Shota asks seriously, to which Hizashi wrinkles his nose. “Look, all I’m saying is that the me over there could do with a bit of a report card from his unimpressed alternate-reality self. Self-assessment. Logical.”

“You’re something else,” Hizashi snorts, toeing Shota’s foot in a halfhearted game of footsies. “If you’re that insistent, I’m sure you could write a letter or something— sign it from yourself so the other you knows it’s you, or, uh, him writing it. You’d probably have the same signature— hard to forge your chicken scratch cursive. The kid came through his with ID card, right? Just have him carry it on his person in case he poofs home.”

“I could try,” Shota agrees lightly.

“It’s worth a shot if it’ll give you some peace of mind,” Hizashi tells him quietly. “I know how you get when it involves your kids. I’m sure the Listener wouldn’t mind carrying it around for a while—just fold it up small enough and we can get the kid a wallet or something to keep his ID card and the letter safe in. He should probably be carrying ID card around anyways, just in case he does disappear into thin air or somethin’.”

Shota gives a nod, finally letting his attention drop from Hizashi’s face to the table top. His brow furrows when he sees a very familiar black notebook. He sets a hand on the cover, but doesn’t open it.

“Oh!” Hizashi laughs when he notices what has his husband’s attention, “the kiddo said it was yours, and that he was just borrowing it, so he brought it in here for you after we ate. I don’t remember you ever using a notebook past graduation, but I didn’t question it. He was insistent, yet oddly protective of it. I promised I wouldn’t touch it, and make sure you got it.”

“You’re right, I haven’t,” Shota shrugs, taking Hizashi’s word for it and flipping the book open.

He’s instantly surprised by the bulk of the analysis. The kid had had maybe three hours, and he’d filled almost half of the notebook with small, yet neat writing. And it looks good. Thought out and in depth. Scarily professional grade, considering the kid had assured his analysis was nothing by a hobby.

He hadn’t had any formal training—not even an analysis course at Yuuei yet if their curriculums line up. It’s no wonder Deku had taken the world by storm if he was capable of analysis like this.

“What is it?” Hizashi asks, leaning over the table to get a peak. He freezes after reading the first couple words, plopping back into his chair with wide eyes. “Oh.”

“And they don’t even know he can do this,” Shota groans, flipping the book shut, knowing very well that he’ll be hunched over it later that evening, “they’re damn lucky that kid took the route of a Hero instead of turning out like Deku where he’s from, or they’d be just as screwed as we are.”

Izuku sticks close to Todoroki as the dual-haired teen leads him through the familiar dorm building. The halls are quiet, and Izuku doesn’t see any of the 1-A students.

That could be because they’re taking the stairs instead of the elevator, which would get out right by the common area where Izuku is sure most of the students are decompressing from the school day, whether gathered around the television, or cooking together in the kitchen—

“Does your school have dorms implemented?”

Izuku startles from his observations of the halls that haven’t changed at all from reality to reality, blinking wide-eyed at Todoroki. “W-what?”

“Your Yuuei High School,” Todoroki repeats, head cocked in question, “does your school also have dorms? We didn’t until a very recent villain attack. It’s the first year for them.”

“Oh,” Izuku nods slowly, “we, um, we moved into our dorms just after the bootcamp where the villains attacked. That happened here as well, didn’t it? I think that’s something that didn’t change. I don’t really... know exactly what’s changed, but as far as I know most of what happened to you, happened to us as well. Just—” Izuku bites his lip, “things have changed... outcomes and stuff.”

“I see,” Todoroki nods. They arrive at the floor Todoroki’s dorm is on, and the younger boy pauses right out of the stairwell. Izuku follows suit after a couple more steps, turning to look at him with a confusion cocked eyebrow. “Which dorm is your Todoroki Shoto’s, Midoriya?”

Izuku blinks once, then twice. He opens his mouth to answer, but snaps it shut when he realizes he doesn’t really know how to respond. He hadn’t expected to be put on the spot like this, but he probably should’ve.

“Um...” He blinks again, but Todoroki is just waiting patiently at the opening of the stairwell. “Okay, uh,” Izuku paces forwards until he’s stood in front of his Todoroki’s dorm room. “This one is yours in my reality.”

“Do you know my neighbors?”

Thrown for another loop, Izuku blinks again.

He scratches nervously at the back of his neck, “well... my room would be on your right— o-or, it, ah, it is in my reality at least and if it’s the same... Kirishima on the left?”

“Shinsou is my other neighbor,” Todoroki informs as he finally joins Izuku outside of the door. He opens the door and gestures Izuku in. “You’re right about Kirishima though.”

“That’s good,” Izuku breathes, stepping into the room. If Todoroki is opening the door and letting him in, he must’ve proved his authenticity well enough. The dual-haired teen is putting trust into him by letting him into his comfort zone.

Izuku is relieved to see it hasn’t changed.

“Different?” Todoroki asks as he moves to kneel by his desk.

“No,” Izuku shakes his head, following suit, but settling down cross-legged a close, but safe distance away from the other boy. “It’s comfortingly similar. I’m glad you haven't changed much, Todoroki-kun.”

“It’s strange that you know me,” the other offers lightly, “I’ve only heard rumors about you. My father, and the teachers at this school. Some of the older students. You’ve really hurt a lot of people here. Or, Deku has. You haven’t.”

“I know,” Izuku whispers, bowing his head. “I don’t... know why. As far as I know, we’ve grown up the same but... but something’s different. Somewhere, at some point, something happened.”

“You did an analysis of my father,” the dual-haired teen tells him. Izuku’s attention jerks up again, but Todoroki’s expression is one of indifference. “Deku did.”

“I-I did—I mean, he did?”

Todoroki nods. “It made headlines. The fight was caught on video and aired on the news. There was a villain who antagonized him until he got angry enough that he overheated. When he does overheat, it weakens his body, so he ended up taking a couple hits that he normally wouldn’t let land.

“The heat from his own Quirk enervates him. It’s not common knowledge that he has limitations like that, so people were surprised. First All Might, and then Endeavor. When I saw the clip, I assumed it was Deku who’d done an analysis and handed it over to the villain—but I don’t know how he found out about... about what the villain used to rile my father up.”

“What did they use to antagonize him?” Izuku asks curiously.

The dual-haired teen smiles slightly, but it’s not exactly a happy smile, “they publicly accused him of child abuse.”

Izuku’s sure his mouth drops open in surprise. “But he... does, doesn’t he? You... you told me about the Quirk marriage and the training he put you through when you manifested your Quirk—how he wanted you to surpass the number one Hero because he couldn’t.”

“Not anymore, no,” Todoroki shakes his head. “Not since I started here. As you already know, he trained me very hard when I was a child. Hardly regarded my health, or endurance as a small child. I had the perfect Quirk, according to him— a split of my mother’s ice and my father’s fire. I was the golden child. I have three older siblings and none of them had what my father was looking for, so he wasn’t content until he got me. We... lived different lives, my siblings and I.”

“Todoroki...” Izuku whispers out. He knew some of this—but not this much. It feels like he’s starting to know more then he should, “I don’t—”

“I don’t know what your Todoroki Shoto told you, but I want you to know this,” Todoroki shakes his head. “I don’t know how you managed to convince your Todoroki Shoto to use his fire side, but I promised myself I would never rely on him. On... on any part of him. I’m strong without his Quirk— my ice is enough, so why did your Shoto forget his promise?”

“He didn’t forget,” Izuku hurries to tell the other, reading the distress in Todoroki’s eyes. “When we fought... you used your ice. I broke almost all of my fingers and my arm trying to counter your ice—you're so strong without your fire, Todoroki-kun. But just like your father, you also have limitations.”

Todoroki’s brow furrows and he sits back between his knees, “what do you mean?”

“Quirks are physical abilities,” Izuku tells him, flexing his fingers as pulses with phantom pain crawls up to his fingertips. He remembers the feeling of his broken fingers—of using broken fingers to defend attacks. He’s been desperate. “There’s a limit to the cold your body can take. Just like Endeavor’s body has limitations to the heat it can withstand.”

“All Quirks have limitations,” Todoroki reminds stiffly, nose wrinkling. “Are you comparing me to my father?”

“No!” Izuku yelps, waving his hands in frantic dismissal. “Of course not! You-you're right! All Quirks have limitations. Elemental Quirks like ice and fire will affect your body in less-than-ideal ways. You, um, you’ve probably noticed before? When frost forms on your right side because your ice is freezing your skin...”

“Yes,” Todoroki gives a slow nod, “that does happen. I’d rather ice then fire. Burns,” the boy snarls the word out, “hurt more than frost does. I've never used my ice to the point it hurt me. Just because my skin frosts when I overuse my ice, doesn’t mean I’m anything like my father when he overuses his fire.”

“You're not,” Izuku agrees hurriedly, “your ice is powerful, but there is that limitation. Over using your ice slows you down physically, and I can only assume it does just as much internally. You’ve got something a lot of us don’t— the power to choose and a temperature reset.”

“What?”

Izuku lets himself smile, “you have the freedom to choose what will work best; ice or fire—sometimes even both at once. Not to mention using both will regulate your temperature. If you’re too hot, cool yourself off, or if you’re too cold, use some heat.”

“I won’t rely on his Quirk.”

“But it’s not his Quirk, Todoroki-kun, it’s yours.”

Mismatched eyes blink owlishly at Izuku, and he shifts almost uncertainly at the attention.

“In this course,” Izuku bites his lip, wondering what Todoroki will take from his words, “we’re all giving it our all. My class 1-A, and your class 1-A. We’re all fighting to be Heroes. We’re all working hard, and pushing limits. That day, during the Festival, you were insistent you beat me with just your ice. You wanted to prove you didn’t need your father’s Quirk—”

“I don’t need my father’s Quirk.”

“And I get it, Todoroki-kun,” Izuku continues on like Todoroki hadn’t interrupted, “I do. I... I spoke with your father before our match. He-he sorts cornered me, I guess? And... well, All Might is sorta like my mentor over in my world, so Endeavor wanted you to beat me. It was some weird goal of him beating All Might through you beating me, I think? The point is, Endeavor wasn’t... um, particularly nice.”

“He’s not,” Todoroki agrees with a small smile. “Did I beat you?”

“You did,” Izuku laughs, shrugging his shoulders in a ‘what can you do?’ gesture. He gives another, lighter laugh to express there’s no hard feelings, before sobering enough to look the other in the eyes. “But not with just your ice. I was a bull-headed opponent—even with broken bones I couldn’t just give in. We fought hard. You really tried to beat me with just your ice.”

“What did you say to me?” Todoroki asks interestedly, leaning towards Izuku. He blinks and wrinkles his nose in thought before adding, “to your Todoroki, I mean. During the Festival. What... what convinced him?”

“You’re trying to win with half of your strength,” Izuku breathes out— actually telling this Todoroki instead of just repeating what he’d said to his own back then. Still, he tries not to wince, and hopes the other will consider his words. “We’re all trying to access all of our strength. We want to reach our full potential, and we want to get better. That’s what Sensei is teaching us. I’ve watched my classmates work themselves into Quirk exhaustion. I’ve watched them push to the limits—you included.

“You have an amazing Quirk, Todoroki-kun. Ice and fire. Opposites melded together into one incredible Quirk. You’re in class 1-A with us— you're the best of the best, but you’re not living up to your full capability. To your potential.”

Todoroki is silent, just watching Izuku now.

The green-haired teen considers it a win, since the other boy does actually look like he’s considering this. Maybe he can get through to this Todoroki without shattering his bones.

“I think,” Izuku reflects slowly when Todoroki doesn’t speak, “that seeing me counter your attacks—seeing me use all the strength I had at the time and destroying my body to keep fighting and keep up with you, be on your level, and even surpass you, changed your views. We’re both strong, but back then I was using my full potential at the time, and you were using half. You could do better. You did do better—I was beat when you pulled out your fire, and I was so proud of you.”

“It sounds like you... you were helping me.” Todoroki looks up, surprise in his eyes, “this wasn’t just a fight, you were... you could’ve won by the sound of it. You were baiting me into using my fire and you— you knew I’d win if you succeeded... why?”

“It’s your Quirk, Todoroki-kun, not his.” Izuku’s fists clench in his lap, as emotion colours his tone. “You’re an amazing Hero, and you’ve done that using just your ice, but your fire side isn’t his. It’s yours. It’s a part of you, just as much as your ice side is. I’ve seen how strong you are. How powerful you are.”

“Midoriya,” Todoroki’s own hands tighten into fists on his thighs, “I don’t—”

Izuku cuts him off with a soft, crooked smile, “you’re already so strong but... isn’t the point of this class to be better? To push to the limits and go Plus Ultra? You’ll be a good Hero but... can you really be the Number One Hero when you’re only giving fifty-percent where everyone else is giving one-hundred?”

Todoroki’s jaw snaps shut and he looks away almost guiltily. He doesn’t answer.

Izuku is content to just let his friend think. It’s not like he and Todoroki have never sat in companionable silence before. Todoroki isn’t a man of many words, and Izuku doesn’t always fill the silence.

They sit across from each other for a while. Todoroki’s gaze is narrowed on Izuku, but not maliciously or anything—just watching and thinking. Studying him. Maybe even trying to validate his sincerity about what he’s said, or picture the two of them toss each other around the arena. Izuku really wishes he had a video of the fight he could show Todoroki. It would probably help.

It’s a knock on the door that finally disturbs the serenity of the room.

Izuku jumps, but Todoroki just draws his attention to the door, “yes?”

“Todoroki-kun,” Izuku stiffens at Iida’s voice through the door. “Curfew is approaching—we've all showered, so the boy's communal showers are free if you wanted to take one.”

Todoroki stands from his kneel, stepping swiftly to the door where he pulls it open. “Okay.”

Izuku sees Iida nod, before the class president (Izuku assumes, at least) catches his eyes. Iida blinks in surprise as Izuku shuffles awkwardly. “I didn’t realize you had company. Good evening, Midoriya. Unfortunately, Midoriya should be returning back upstairs to Sensei.”

Todoroki narrows his eyes at Iida, scanning him up and down, “I know. I’ll walk him back up.”

“You’ll miss your chance to shower before curfew,” Iida reminds. “I will walk our guest back up. I am the class president, so I should ensure that Sensei’s personal student be returned on time and safely.”

“I’m not a dog, guys,” izuku huffs, already shifting to his feet. “I live in this building too where I’m from—I can find my way up to the teacher’s apartment.”

“Of course,” Iida responds instantly, almost sheepishly, “we didn’t mean anything by it. Just, our peers aren’t... entirely comfortable with your presence yet. It’s a security measure that I’m sure Aizawa-Sensei would appreciate.”

“You’re not a dog,” Todoroki agrees. “But I told Sensei I’d stay with you.”

“I really don’t mind walking you up, Midoriya,” Iida tells him. “It’s my responsibility as the class president to ensure everyone is following the rules. That includes curfew. And... I’d like to ask you something, if you don’t mind? And this is the ideal course of action, considering the window for evening showers is closer.”

Izuku cocks his head, looking between Todoroki and Iida. “I guess I don’t mind then. Um, I’ll see you tomorrow then, Todoroki-kun. Have a good night.”

“Thank you,” the dual-haired boy bows his head, “you have a good night also, Midoriya. Thank you for coming to talk with me, I’ll think about what you said.”

Izuku smiles warmly, offering the dual-haired teen a quick wave as he follows Iida out the door and down the hallway. The taller boy is quiet as they walk. Izuku fidgets at Iida’s side, unsure of the other’s own thoughts about him. He hadn’t seemed particularly fond of the idea Izuku was there during class that morning, but he was being respectful and hospitable.

Izuku clears his throat, drawing in the taller boy’s attention, “what... um, what did you want to talk about?”

“In class today,” the boy breathes out as Izuku pulls the stairwell door open allowing Iida in first, “you said... you said that Todoroki, you and I fought someone together in your world but you... you cut yourself off. I was wondering—ah, actually, never mind. It’s... forget it.”

“Stain?” Izuku asks quietly, adding nothing more. A rock settles in his stomach—Iida had fought Stain, hadn’t he? Alone? If Izuku wasn’t there, then Todoroki probably wouldn’t have shown up. Or, maybe he’s wrong, and Iida’s asking about something else. Maybe he didn’t fight Stain—

“I thought so,” Iida grimaces. “The way you cut yourself off. Like you couldn’t say anything. The only confidential thing I could think of would’ve been the Hero Killer incident, but I didn’t know if it would be a fixed incident from reality to reality.”

“It is,” Izuku tells him slowly, biting hard at his bottom lip. “A lot of what happened to you guys are fixed events in time, from reality to reality. And I think if there... if there were other realities similar, it probably happens in those ones as well.”

“I see,” Iida hums thoughtfully. “That’s unfortunate. We’ve had a hard time.”

Izuku nods, “yeah,” he winces, “us too.”

They trek up a couple stairs, silence settled between them.

“Can I ask what happened during your fight with him?” Izuku asks quietly, glancing over at Iida. Iida glances over as well, eyebrows furrowed in thought. “You don’t have to—”

“I stumbled upon Stain in a back alley quite far from the main streets and the Nomu attack. I... I split away from Manual, who was my work-study mentor and... I was blinded by rage. A need to revenge my brother. He... he’s wheelchair bound for the rest of his life. Stain took away his ability to walk—his ability to be a Hero. He was the greatest Hero, and I will never forgive Stain for what he did to Tensei. I found Stain in hidden away with his next target— a Pro by the name of Native.”

Izuku gives a nod that he’s following along. It matches up pretty well so far.

“Native died that night,” Iida tells him quietly, pushing his glasses up his nose as he looks away guiltily. “I let my need for revenge in my brother’s stead cloud my judgement and in doing so, I rushed into a fight I was ill prepared for. I almost died. He stabbed me three times, and left me there. I... lost consciousness and almost bled out— Native did bleed out. He... Stain, he taunted me about my ideals— how I wasn’t a true hero. I still... don’t know why he spared me.”

“Iida, that’s—”

“I learned my lesson,” the glasses-clad teen breathes out as they trek up the remainder of the stairs together. “I was in a coma for three days after that— I lost a lot of momentum and muscle strength in my shoulder that day. No recovery Quirk could fix that. I have physical therapy once a week still, and Aizawa-Sensei has me on a lighter workout schedule until I can rebuild what was lost. If I ever rebuild it. It was a setback. A terrible one, but I did it to myself.”

The blue-haired boy shakes his head, like he’s shaking off his thoughts, “did it turn out differently where you’re from? Was there... a better solution?”

“I don’t think there could’ve been here,” Izuku tells him apologetically. “I was also in Hosu that night and I... I knew you were off. We’d been friends since the start of the school year, but I didn't know what happened to you brother... I knew you were off, but didn’t know why.

“I found you after Stain had... right before he tried to kill Native. I had asked for help as soon as I found you— Todoroki-kun was the one who responded and arrived in to help us. It took all three of us to take him out, and that’s with Todoroki using both his ice and fire. We all still got hurt, but everyone survived.”

“I see,” Iida nods slowly. “You sound like a good classmate and friend, Midoriya-kun. I suppose we really could’ve used you here too.”

They’ve reached the top of the stairwell, right beside the doorway that leads to the apartment the teachers live in. Iida hesitates, and Izuku stills with him.

“Was... was he caught?” Izuku finds himself asking, purely curious. It doesn’t sound like the fight boded well for Iida, but Stain still could’ve been caught that night too— Iida survived. “I mean... I mentioned the Stain incident at the station when we were still figuring out what happened to me, but no one really gave me an answer.”

“Yes, he was.” Iida hesitates as he pushes the door open. “He... went on to kill six more Heroes, and gravely injured an additional four before he was caught by Heroes. There was speculation that... that Deku was helping him, but Stain never confirmed or denied.”

“Oh,” Izuku swallows tightly.

“You didn’t do it Midoriya,” Iida’s brow has furrowed, like he’s been studying Izuku’s face. “The two of you are very different people— Deku may have helped Stain, but you haven’t. That’s not something you should be taking any blame for. You... you sound like you’ll make a good Hero when you return home; I wish you the best.”

“Thank you, Iida-kun,” Izuku manages a light smile through the guilt pooling in his chest. “You’ll make a good one as well. I know my Iida realized he was fighting for the wrong reasons that night, so I hope you have as well. Spite and revenge will cloud your vision, we’re Heroes because we want to help people.”

“You’re very wise,” Iida offers with a tiny smile, “thank you. I think I needed to hear that. I want to save people and be a good Hero like my brother. I’ll be a Hero that he, and you, will be proud of.”

“I know you will be,” Izuku grins now, stepping through the held open door with Iida following behind. “If you’re anything like my Iida, I’m already proud of you. You will make a great Hero; you made a mistake and you learned your lesson.”

Izuku pretends not to see the faint dusting of pink on Iida’s cheeks at the praise.

The taller teen marches forwards to the door, lifting his hand to knock politely.

Aizawa-Sensei answers the door in no more than three seconds, leaning out and eyeing the two of them. He huffs out a breath and crossed his arms over his chest so he can glare down at them over his nose.

“That’s not the student I put entrusted your care to,” Aizawa-Sensei drawls, levelling Iida a narrowed look. Izuku sputters out an offended ‘entrusted?’, but the teacher doesn’t even spare him a glance. His lips do faintly tilt upwards in amusement though. “What changed your mind about Midoriya, you didn’t seem to trusting, Iida.”

“Curiosity, Sir,” Iida answers easily. “I was wrong; Midoriya is a well-rounded individual, and I would’ve liked to have him in my class. I envy the world where he’s one of the good guys, and we are classmates. I think I learned a lot from him in such a short period of time.”

“Alright then,” Shota sighs, landing a gentle hand on Izuku’s shoulder and guiding him into the apartment, “thanks for walking him back, but you should be getting back to you room before curfew. I’ll be doing my walk through in ten minutes, so don’t be late.”

“Of course, Sir,” Iida bows his head respectfully, “have a good night, Sensei. And you as well, Midoriya-kun. I look forward to seeing you in class tomorrow; thank you for our discussion, I very much appreciated it and I will reflect on what you told me.”

Aizawa-Sensei shuts the door after watching Iida disappear in the direction of the stairs.

He turns to the remaining teen behind him, blinking slowly, “what did you tell him?”

“O-oh, ah, n-nothing much, Sensei, just... I told him about Stain where I’m from. Both Iidas... they were both fueled with a need for revenge and that... that’s not what being a Hero is about. I don’t agree with Stain’s method, no one should ever take another person’s life, but I can’t argue he doesn’t have a point. There are a lot of Heroes in the profession for the money and glory. My Stain... he told me I was a true Hero that night— right before he was arrested. Then that Nomu grabbed me, and he saved me. I’ve thought a lot about what he said. B-but I-I don’t agree with his methods!”

Aizawa-Sensei stares calculatingly like he’s trying to make sense of what Izuku just told him. He seems to give up, drawing in a deep attempt at a calming inhale.

“We’ll discuss that later,” the man offers, ushering Izuku further into the apartment. “What about your talk with Todoroki?”

Izuku shrugs at that, a frown on his lips.

“I... am not really sure. My Todoroki didn’t accept his fire side until after we fought in the festival. I don’t know if words alone will help him. It’s a bit different where I'm from— All Might was still the number one Hero during the Sports festival and I’m his protégé. Endeavor considers Todoroki his protégé as well, so he wanted Todoroki-kun to beat me, in a roundabout way of him beating All Might. That’s how I managed to convince him that his fire side is a part of him, and not Endeavor. It’s his Quirk.”

“It is. He just needs to realize that,” Aizawa-Sensei huffs in agreement. “You seem to care a lot about you classmates.”

“I do,” Izuku nods quickly, taking a second as they step into the kitchen to wave at Yamada-Sensei when he spots him doing some more marking at the kitchen table. The man waves back with a grin, head cocked as he tries to lip read. “We’ve all been through so much, and if I can help them be better—get better—I want to. They’re all my friends. And just because they don’t know, or-or like me here, doesn’t mean I don’t want the same for your 1-A class as I do for mine.”

Yamada-Sensei makes a cooing noise, and Izuku just knows his cheeks light up in a fierce blush. He ducks his head, smiling sheepishly. Izuku sees Aizawa-Sensei wave Yamada-Sensei off out of the corner of his eye, and tries to wipe the dopey smile off his own face.

“You’re a good kid, Midoriya,” Aizawa-Sensei tells him lightly. “You remember that, alright? I don’t know if your Aizawa ever tells you that, but you are. You’ll be a good Hero.”

“I’ll try to remember that, Sensei. Uhm, thank you.”

The man nods, “now, some of the teachers dropped off some clothes for you—pajamas and clothes that aren’t uniforms for you to use for the time being. Midnight was especially apologetic when she came by, I’m still glad you were out. Don’t feel like you need to accept their apologies—especially when they haven’t properly apologized to you. Their behavior this morning was inappropriate and cruel.”

“They were scared,” Izuku defends, thought he knows his pulse spikes as fear crashes over him.

“They scared you,” Sensei corrects softly, his own expression softening like he can read the fear in Izuku’s face and eyes. “They’re adults and Pro Heroes working at a Hero school where anything is possible, you’re a child who was already in a scary situation. Their lack of investigation— jumping to incorrect conclusions without considering the facts— was unprofessional. They should be sorry.”

“Okay, um, m-maybe I am a little scared,” Izuku admits, scratching nervously at his hairline. “I know you’d keep me safe though. You always do.”

The two men share a look—Yamada-Sensei's more knowing whereas Aizawa-Sensei's is narrowed and almost in surrender. He wonders what it means.

“Well, I’ll try my best to protect you while you’re here,” Aizawa-Sensei agrees. “But please try to be careful.”

“I will,” Izuku promises.

“Good,” the underground Hero sighs, “I put your new clothes in the room you slept in last night. I hope everything fits better than my old sweatpants. You’re welcome to take a shower if you’d like— and you missed dinner again, so please come eat after you’ve changed.”

“R-right!” Izuku arches into a deep bow of gratitude, ignoring the way his homeroom teacher stiffens, and his English teachers makes a muted noise of surprise. “Thank you both.”

He turns tail and disappears before either can respond, willing the awkward flush off his cheeks.

Chapter Text

Thursday, Alternate Reality

“You want me to participate in your Heroics class?” The teenager frowns hard at the navy coloured training uniform Shota had set on the table, the small pile neatly folded and sized appropriately for Midoriya’s small but muscly form. “I thought you said you didn’t trust 1-A to not kill me...?”

Shota leans back in his chair, glancing over at Hizashi who is watching in interest, sipping at his miso soup. The teenager across from Shota is staring at the uniform like it’ll jump up at him, chopsticks frozen at his mouth where he’d paused as he’d gone to take a bite of rice.

“I never said I thought they’d kill you,” Shota wrinkles his nose, ignoring the skeptical look in the teenager’s eyes, “Nezu and I just determined that it would be safer for you to not participate until I could be sure my students could behave.”

“But now you want me to?” Midoriya blinks slowly, glancing at Hizashi who looks just as confused. When the blonde catches the teen’s eyes, he offers a clueless shrug. “I only met them yesterday. I think they’re still wary...”

“I think they’ll behave now,” Shota offers easily, already knowing the curiosity outweighs the hesitance with the majority of 1-A. “Just as I said; I won’t force anyone to do anything. If you don’t trust them, we’ll scrap the whole idea. Just like I won’t make any of my students fight you if you do want to participate. I’m sure a couple students would want to fight you, and those who don’t will just have regular individual training like usual.”

“I do,” Midoriya nods slowly, lowering the bite of rice back into his bowl, “um, I do want to participate in class. And I think I trust most of your 1-A class—just... I, uh, I just don’t... what’s changed? Why... um, why now?”

“I’m curious about your Quirk,” Shota tells him honestly.

And he is.

He’d seen just a wisp of what he assumes is a powerful Quirk.

It really had been something, seeing the teenager bounce speedily between the buildings— an air of strength and almost weightlessness keeping him up. The sparks of green, almost like electricity, trailing in his wake. He’s agile and swift, but that doesn’t explain the scars. The arm and wrist scarring, and the need for surgery on his arms after the festival.

There was definitely more to the Quirk then meets the eye, and as a man who scopes out potential; he’s curious. He wants to see and know what’s going on. How the teenager had gotten so beat up with what appeared to be a speed Quirk at first glance. He wants to understand this Quirk, and maybe even get a glimpse at what other reality Aizawa has to deal with.

“You moved fast; back when you first found me. Scaling the buildings to get to me— that’s not something I’ve seen before; not like that,” Shota says easily, cocking his head as the teenager’s eyebrows bunch together. “But I don’t believe what I saw was a simple speed enhancement Quirk. I think you have a very powerful emitter Quirk that can, and has, done substantial damage to your body. I just want to see what you’re capable of, and there’s no better place then here, fighting the students, where I can keep a close eye and call it off if I think it’s getting out of hand.”

“That makes sense,” Midoriya hums quietly, still looking unsure. “I do want to do some sparring if it’s an option, but... are you sure your 1-A students will be alright with that? I’ve gotten a lot better since the start of the year and... I don’t know your 1-A's current skill level. N-not that I’m saying I’m better at all! Just— I-I don’t... I don’t want to hurt anyone! I only know my classmates Quirk control and growth...”

“What do you mean by that, Kiddo?” Hizashi asks, setting his chopsticks down.

“Oh, um,” The boy pauses before answering, leaning back in his chair with a thoughtfully sort of look. His hand lifts to his face, thumb pressing under his chin as his finger curls faintly over his lips, “well, assuming both classes started at the same level, Quirk and educational wise... I just know how powerful my peers are now— we’ve all been learning a lot through the year, and there has been a lot of fights that we’ve all grown and learned from; Kacchan and Todoroki, for sure, but I don’t know how they differ. Not really. Todoroki-kun here still doesn’t use his fire, while my Todoroki has been making great progress with his.

“Then there’s Kacchan— I know that I’m a motivator for him in my reality, even if it’s just his drive to be better than me and surpass me in class and Heroics. It’s not the healthiest of relationships, but it does get the job done. I know we both learn from it, and he is my biggest rival in class. I don’t know if there’s someone in your class that would act as the same push towards your Kacchan. Well, Todoroki, maybe, but if he’s not reaching his full potential, neither will Kacchan.

“Then there’s my other classmates, like Iida. I know about Hosu—ah, I mean, the, um, the fight he was a part of. I think he learned from that but... I don’t know what, exactly. It was different for my Iida because Todoroki and I were both there too. Both outcomes were different, so I don’t know what your Iida would’ve learned. And... and your Iida-kun was badly injured, while mine wasn’t seriously hurt. That’s a difference that could’ve impacted him. Has the injury affected him much? He mentioned loss of muscle mass and momentum when we talked, but I don’t know how that would really influence his growth.”

The boy is no longer talking to them, and his words have softened to mumbles that Shota has to strain to hear. The teen is making good points—points Shota had thought about briefly, but hadn’t really given too much more thought.

It’s hard to really think about the differences considering he doesn’t know the students in Midoriya’s 1-A class. He knows they exist, from the same place Midoriya exists from, but truthfully, they’re more a concept then they are actual people to Shota.

He’ll probably never meet these students, and when Midoriya is gone (assuming he actually does return home, Shota really hopes he does), he probably won’t ever see him again either.

Plus, he hasn’t taught them, and he hasn’t seen them in action. He doesn’t know for certain, and can’t without being able to see and compare. And the possibility of that is highly unlikely.

Though, from what he’s seen of Midoriya, and his skill of observation and analysis, he can’t just discredit him. At this point, he trusts Midoriya enough to take what he’s telling him into consideration.

He’s only known the kid for a couple days at this point, but there’s just something trustworthy about the boy, and he has the ability to give honest critiques based on what he’s seen from both sides. Midoriya is willing to help 1-A, that’s evident from how he’d spoken with Todoroki despite his own hesitance.

And honestly, they do sound like they possibly could’ve grown more in the other reality then they have here. Judging just from what he’d managed to pick up from what Midoriya is saying, at least.

Todoroki using both his ice and fire is staggering, considering his absolute refusal in their reality when his fire side is even mentioned. How the boy shuts down emotionally; face going blank.

Even Hound Dog hadn’t been able to make heads or tails of that situation past the obvious fact it has to do with Endeavor. Shota doesn’t know what happens behind closed doors, or where the suspicious burn scar on Todoroki’s face truly came from, but there’s a sick feeling in his chest that has always made him wary of the current Number One Hero.

He’s tried asking, just once, but Todoroki just goes cautiously blank.

They can’t do much if nothing’s been reported, not to mention how difficult it would be to flag the Number One Hero of Japan as an abuser even if the Todoroki siblings did report anything. Still, they can’t even open an investigation unless there’s reason to suspect something’s amiss, and Todoroki has never stated otherwise.

And Bakugou has always been strong, but Shota has had the suspicion he wasn’t quite pushing himself to his own limits. Bakugou had had a good handle on his Quirk since that first day, but he hadn’t really improved. It makes sense that his Quirk growth has been stunted if there’s nothing that’ll light a fire under his ass and make him want to do better.

He’s not sure how he feels about Midoriya being the fire alit under his childhood bully’s ass— being the target for Bakugou’s need to be superior and probably getting the backlash that comes with close contact to an emotionally constipated school bully who’d apparently never been reprimanded in his life. Hadn’t Midoriya said something about his Aizawa saving him from Bakugou on the first day of school?

Red flags that he’s sure the alternate Aizawa hadn’t considered. He wants to believe that he would’ve been different, would’ve noticed instantly, but the more he thinks about it, the more he doubts it. Looking at the facts; they’d come from the same middle school, and Kacchan is a cutesy nickname.

It sounds friendly.

Shota tries not to grimace, mentally waving away the thought.

This all just begs the question of why the exact same students are at fundamentally different skill levels. Assuming they’ve gone through similar fights regarding the League of Villains, and that the classes are essentially the same.

So, is it the other Aizawa’s doing, or is it Midoriya’s influence on everyone that spurs things into action?

He shares a quick glance with Hizashi, before looking back at where the teenager’s now mumbling under his breath, gaze dropped to his bowl of rice, but unseeing. He’s no longer loud enough for Shota to understand at all, even when he leans closer.

Is this common for him?

It’s interesting, sure, but it’s also a bit worrying.

There’s an additional part to this suggested Heroics training course that Shota doesn’t want to mention quite yet. He wants to know if there are notable differences between his 1-A and the alternate reality 1-A. He wants Midoriya to observe his students Quirks and fight styles, just as much as he wants to do the same to Midoriya’s own.

If Midoriya has been in his own class 1-A, with most of Shota’s students for this long, he definitely would’ve been watching his peers and friends get stronger— probably encouraging them too, if his kind nature is anything to go off.

It would be illogical to know what he does of the teen and not think he’d been analyzing them all this time. Midoriya obviously has a fascination with Quirks, and he’s definitely been watching; whether subconsciously, or intentionally.

Besides, where better to study new Quirks then to delve into those of your friends and classmates.

He’ll be able to determine how the students are different from reality to reality, and maybe even help Shota figure out how to target his students weaknesses and help them get stronger here too.

If they are stronger in Midoriya’s reality, there’s a possibility that his kids can reach that level as well, he just needs to know and be able to get them there.

Shota startles as a heel kicks back into his shin.

He looks up towards Hizashi at the side, but is distracted by his husband calling the teenager’s name. Midoriya startles out of his own thoughtfulness, taking a second to orient himself before smiling sheepishly and apologizing.

“Not a problem,” Shota clears his throat, leaning back in the chair. “So, thoughts?”

“I want to do it,” the boy squares his shoulders in determination, “I... I’ll admit I’m curious to see if they’re different. I have my own theories just from what I know of my friends back home. I don’t know what’s changed— how they’ve changed. But... I know that no matter the reality I’m in, they’re all still themselves. Heroes in training; trying to be the best they can. Plus no one tried to kill me yesterday, right?”

“Bakugou did try to kill you,” Shota deadpans.

“That wasn’t him trying to kill me,” Midoriya gives a sheepish smile, rubbing at the back of his neck, “besides, that’s different. I knew he was going to be like that, or, I suspected it. He’s always been rough like that, even when we were little. Plus, now I know this Kacchan didn’t mean it. He was scared.”

“Your standards are worrying low, lil’ Listener,” Hizashi mutters, shaking his head.

He shares a glance with Shota, face puckering up.

“It’s okay,” Midoriya chimes brightly, smiling in Hizashi’s direction, “I’m used to Kacchan’s brashness. He really has always been the same, and though we get along now, he used to be much worse. Your Bakugou really has grown up a lot!”

Hizashi opens his mouth to respond, seems to reconsider before shutting his mouth with a click of his teeth; looking desperately to Shota. Shota sees worry in his husband’s gaze, and it’s even more concerning considering Hizashi doesn’t even know the finer details that Shota had been privy to yesterday.

Shota squints at the boy, “care to elaborate on that?”

Midoriya freezes up, shoulders going tense, “um, no. N-no thank you, Sensei. I... I’m uh, okay.”

“Alllright,” Hizashi clears his throat, letting a tiny smile curl onto his lips, “you just let us know if anything gets out of hand while you’re here, ya’dig? You should feel safe here.”

“I do,” Midoriya returns the smile, “I always feel safe with Aizawa-Sensei around. Even when he didn’t know me, or think I belonged in his class, he still kept me safe! Then at the USJ too, he put his own life on the line for us. And you were the first one to comfort me when I got here, and at the time you still thought I was a villain. You’re the nicest teacher I’ve ever had! And you already know you’re one of my favorites.”

“I don’t know if that’s nice to hear,” Shota winces, eyeing the child, “or if it’s utterly terrifying that I’m the nicest teacher you’ve had. Your standards really are low.”

“S-sensei!” The boy squeaks out as Hizashi snorts a laugh into his coffee.

“Both,” Hizashi answers, smiling cheekily. He blatantly ignores the squeak, and sputtering coming from the child across from them. “Both is a reasonably acceptable answer. Adorable and terrifying.”

The teenager slumps back in his seat, lip jutting out in a pout. He looks seconds away from apologizing, which Shota does not want. He shifts just enough in his seat to draw in Midoriya and Hizashi’s attention.

“We should all get a move on,” Shota tells the table, standing up before arching his back in a stretch. He grabs his bowls, eyeing the two still seated, “classes will be starting soon—and weren’t you talking about meeting a few of the second years for some extra help this morning, ‘zashi?”

“Ah, shit, you’re right!” The screech Hizashi lets out borders very close to Quirk enhanced, the curse word coming out in English. Shota hides a laugh in his capture weapon as Hizashi flies out of his seat, rushing into their bedroom to gather the assignments he’d spent the night marking.

Midoriya winces at the loudness, shoulders shrugging up to his ears in an attempt to block the noise, but Shota’s already resigned to his fate of premature hearing loss.

Hizashi storms back into the kitchen like a tornado, pressing a quick (and sloppy) kiss to Shota’s cheek with a hurried: ‘Love ya, Babe, have a good day! See ya, Kiddo!’ as he rushes out the door. Shota narrows his eyes at the door his husband had just rushed out of as he lifts a fist to wipe away the kiss with the back of his hand.

He lulls his head in Midoriya’s direction, eyes narrowing dangerously when he sees the brat snickering behind his glass of juice.

“Not a word from you,” Shota warns, hand looping into his capture weapon threateningly.

Midoriya doesn’t look threatened in the least.

“Not a word about what, Sensei?” Midoriya asks sweetly, setting the glass down. It would almost be convincing if it weren’t for the shit eating grin. “My lips are sealed.”

“Good,” the man manages out, looking away from the kid sharply. He just knows his cheeks had lit up in light flush. There’s just something about Hizashi being domestic and affectionate around his sort-of student that feels weird. He doesn’t even think Hizashi had even realized it in his frenzied state.

Thank whatever deity exists that it was Midoriya who’d seen and not any of the other gremlins to see it.

“It was very cute, Sensei.”

Scratch that, Midoriya is also a gremlin.

“Those are words, Midoriya,” Shota huffs, cheeks darkening. “No more words.”

The child lets out a quiet laugh that could almost be considered a giggle, hiding his mouth behind his hand. Shota lets the embarrassment pass, knowing the boy won’t say anything to anyone else.

He’s a cheeky little thing, but he’s not a bad kid.

“I’m finished now. Not another word,” the boy huffs lightly, tone humorous. “Promise.”

“Uh huh,” Shota gives one last threatening glance before letting his shoulders slump, “are you ready to head out? Classes will be starting soon, I’m sure most of my students have already left, so we should go before we’re late. You’re not enrolled, but I won’t hear the end of it if I’m late.”

“And you have a perfect record for being on time,” the teen gives a nod.

“How did—” Shota cuts himself off at Midoriya’s sheepish look, “it was Hizashi, wasn’t it?”

“He... may have mentioned it,” Midoriya laughs as he finally stands, grabbing the training uniform, “my Present Mic, not yours. I was a little surprised, since you’re always so tired.”

“Why do you think I’m always so tired?” Shota cocks an eyebrow.

Midoriya pauses at that, blinking thoughtfully. “I’ve... never thought about that.”

“Punctuality is logical,” Shota offers drily, “and I can’t expect you lot to be on time if I’m not. I’ve noticed that you teenagers are barely any better than elementary kids when it comes to learning by example: monkey see, monkey do. Doesn’t matter how old you are, school children always tend to follow what’s being set as an example.”

Midoriya quirks his head to the side thoughtfully, “is that why you said all that on the first day?”

“What did I say on the first day?”

“You said— oh, right, um, you’re not my Sensei so...” Shota stares the kid down, urging him to continue with one single arched eyebrow, “w-well, you, um, you arrived exactly on time, but we were uh... a little distracted meeting each other. For, um, eight whole seconds. You... you counted, and told us.”

“Sounds about right,” Shota hums in reply, thinking about his own first day with this year’s 1-A students. “What did I say?”

“You said: ‘That's not gonna work; time is precious.’ and then you said: ‘Rational students would
understand that.’” Midoriya pauses, watching Shota silently, like he gauging his reaction to the words. “You never really explained it, but you were s-scary enough at that first meeting that we made a conscious effort to be ready exactly on time.”

“And that’s all true,” Shota nods, silently pleased with alternate Aizawa. Eight seconds was long enough for a warning, but not long enough for the lecture Shota’s own students got when they finally noticed him thirty-six seconds late due to Bakugou and Iida arguing. “Time is precious, especially as a Hero. Every second counts, and that’s one of the first lessons I teach my students. Tardiness in class, or even as a Hero shows that you don’t care enough to show up on time; that what you’re doing isn’t important enough. What kind of message does that send? Who wants a Pro who doesn’t care enough to arrive on time?”

Midoriya gives a thoughtful hum, seeming to be taking his words into consideration. “And that’s why you’re always right on time?”

“It is,” Shota bows his head in a nod, “teaching up-and-coming Heroes is important, and not taking that seriously— not giving you students respect in return when I ask for respect from you is illogical. I only have three years to whip my students into shape, and every second of those three years is important. Soon you’ll be full-fledged Heroes and I want you all to be the best Heroes you can be. It’s important to me as your teacher, and I want you student to know that. Even if I don’t outright tell you; I set examples I want you to pick up on, even if it’s something as simple as respecting our time as a class.”

“My Sensei’s never mentioned this,” Midoriya offers mindfully. “I’ve never really... thought it was this important, y’know? Everyone just thought Sensei was just being a hard-ass—n-no offense!—especially, um, since my Sensei hasn’t even really mentioned punctuality since the first day. We talk about being on time more than Sensei does...”

“And I’ve never told my students.” Shota shrugs, “but you’ve all still picked up on it, haven’t you? What your Aizawa said at the start of the year was just words, Midoriya. It was a lecture, sure, but it got through to you. It was brought to your attention once, and as I continued to arrive on time and respect you, you all followed my lead. It’s a mutual respect that I don’t think most teachers tend to even notice.”

Midoriya doesn’t respond, so Shota continues easily, “besides, I’m sure 1-A's good punctuality will follow you all through your careers, because that subconscious thought is always there. Impressions are everything in this line of work, and how and when you arrive will always be the first impression you offer.”

“Huh,” Midoriya finally breathes out, eyebrows drawn together as he thinks, “that’s... a really good lesson. I didn’t even realize we’ve all been subconsciously cautious about our timing. I thought we just didn’t want to disappoint you again.”

“That’s probably part of it too,” Shota tells him. “That’s the mutual respect we’ve built. I hold you students to high standards because I know you’re capable of meeting them. The fact that you don’t want to disappoint your Aizawa just means you respect him and his authority.”

“I do,” Midoriya confirms shyly. “I respect both of you. I don’t know if that counts though, because you are technically the same person.”

“I’m glad, Kid,” Shota huffs. “And try not to get into the little technicalities of this reality swap thing, it’ll just give you a migraine. Focus on what you know.”

“R-right!” The teen gives a fierce nod, “I’ll try not to.”

“Alright then,” Shota bites back a smile, glancing at the digital clock on the microwave. “Now we really should get going. Put your training uniform in the backpack the teachers got you, and let's get a move on.”

“W-wait, ah, S-sensei?”

Shota pauses, turning to look back at the teen who hasn’t really moved from the table yet, despite the fact he’s standing. Midoriya suddenly looks almost nervous. Shota refrains from frowning at the sudden expression.

He cocks an eyebrow in silent question, watching as the teen draws in a shaky breath before looking up with determination squared shoulders. “Can... can I make a request for training if we’re really doing it?”

Shota blinks, tucking his hands into his pocket.

The automatic response that sits on the tip of his tongue is a ‘no’; he’s not one for allowing requests when it comes to Heroics and class. That’s not something that’ll happen in the Hero world, especially new and upcoming Heroes. Heroics is more or less jumping through hoops, unless you manage to rank high on the charts, or establish your own agency where you make the rules.

It’s another lesson he tries to teach early on. Things won’t always go your way, and as shitty as it is, the newer Heroes opinions are hardly ever taken into consideration.

He’s sure it’s like that in most working environments.

Still, the words die on his tongue when he glances back at where Midoriya is sheepishly stood at the table, clutching the training uniform to his chest with his head cocked in question.

As much as he wants to hold strong and tell the kid he doesn’t get any special treatment—he's sure his own Aizawa doesn’t play favorites either— he instead finds his shoulder slumping, as a sigh leaves his lungs. Considering the circumstances of Midoriya’s presence here, he’s avidly trying to make the teen as comfortable here as he can.

“What sort of request?”

He can at least hear the boy out.

Morning classes fly by fast.

Homeroom finds Izuku sitting in the twentieth desk at the back of the room. He’s almost out of sight; out of mind, or, he would be if the 1-A students weren’t glancing back at him. He feels more under observation now than he did yesterday meeting the students.

Yesterday Aizawa-Sensei had been right by his side, shutting things down before anything really happened. Now, he’s going over announcements up front while glancing over every so often.

He’s trying to decipher the looks being thrown back at him, gauging who he should be wary of, who’s more curious then nervous, and who’s already sorta accepted his presence.

He wants to trust them, but he knows what they can do. He knows their Quirks, and he’s seen them fighting villains and the fact of the matter is that he technically is a villain here.

Thankfully, Aizawa-Sensei keeps them distracted throughout the homeroom period, and it passes quickly.

The next three periods go by just as fast.

Present Mic drops off a small package of paperwork to Aizawa-Sensei, and then the Underground Hero is walking the teacher’s desk where Izuku is settled and handing him just a portion of the paperwork. It’s math work, and Izuku probably shouldn’t be as relieved as he is to be working on math work during what’s supposed to be his math class period.

He gets English and History work handed to him at the start of each new period. He doesn’t pay much mind to the second or third years, and tries hard not to be distracted by the feeling of eyes on him. He wonders what they know by now—if anyone’s connected him to Deku. There’s no hostility though, not even when Aizawa-Sensei isn’t looking. He counts it as a win.

By the time lunch rolls around, Izuku has finished all the classwork he’d been given, and Aizawa-Sensei collects it, promising to mark it himself.

Yamada-Sensei makes his second appearance at the start of lunch, arriving in to the 1-A classroom with two bento boxes.

He’s relieved to see food, and hadn’t even realized he was subconsciously making himself sick with anxiety thinking about going to the cafeteria. The thought of being alone in the school is weirdly terrifying, especially since he’s so used to wondering alone in his own reality.

“Fresh from Lunch Rush!” Yamada-Sensei cheers happily, holding both out as offerings. Izuku’s mouth waters at the sight. He glances towards Aizawa-Sensei, who’s lazily regarding Present Mic, before looking over at the Voice Hero.

Izuku perks up in his seat when Present Mic steps close enough to where he was taking advantage of the empty classroom to relax a bit, passing him the second bento. He’d taken up residence at Hagakure’s abandoned desk so Aizawa-Sensei could sit at his own desk over the lunch period, while also making sure he’s close enough to his teacher that he doesn’t feel completely on edge.

“Hope you like it, Lil’ Listener!” the blonde-haired man says with a wide grin, giving the teacher and student both a quick wave before disappearing just as he’d come in.

Izuku is thrilled to see tonkatsu in the bento containers— he’s always loved Lunch Rush’s tonkatsu. Closest he’s ever found to his mom’s homemade. The only competition he’s ever found.

They eat in a comfortable silence. Aizawa-Sensei looks busy with some marking, taking bites between sips of coffee and scratching of his pen on papers, while Izuku just focuses on the meal before him instead of what’ll be happening after lunch.

He’s second guessing agreeing to participate in Heroics.

He knows Aizawa-Sensei wouldn’t mind if he did choose to not participate, he’d made it clear that the cards are all in Izuku’s hands at this point, but he really does want to try. He is curious, and he knows he’s just psyching himself out. He wants some normalcy, or, the closest he can get.

Which brings him to standing at Aizawa-Sensei's side, looking down the line of 1-A. He can’t help but wilt away from the prying eyes of his alternate reality classmates, nerves ticking upwards as he tries not to squirm and hide behind Aizawa-Sensei.

They’re in gym gamma, just after lunch period.

The afternoon is scheduled Heroics training, and Izuku’s probably even more nervous than he’d been on the first day of school.

It’s weird being on this side of training— standing by the teacher instead of standing with his peers. It almost makes him feel like he’s in trouble, but then again, he feels safe at Aizawa-Sensei's side. He likes being able to scan 1-A's faces too. It eases his nerves, being able to pick apart their expressions as everything’s explained.

“I’m giving you the chance to choose what you’d like to do during class today,” Aizawa-Sensei drawls, glancing down the line. “Midoriya will be participating in class today.”

Whispers from the class have Izuku wincing subtly, wringing his hands together.

“That said,” the man continues, instantly quieting the students with nothing more than his tone, “I was serious when I said I wouldn’t be forcing anyone to interact with Midoriya. If you’re not comfortable, or you just don’t want to participate so soon, that’s fine.”

Izuku feels the man slouch at his side, eyeing the students thoughtfully, “there are two options you can pick from today. The first is dual battles. Just like you participated in during the Sports Festival; one-on-one battles versus Midoriya. It will be a challenge, I’m sure. Keep in mind that Midoriya is a student at this school where he’s from, so he knows your Quirks. That’s an advantage that you won’t have.”

To Izuku’s genuine surprise, a lot of the students look interested in that option.

Kirishima and Kaminari are whispering excitedly to each other, and Kacchan, who Izuku had requested to be able to participate in the Heroics lesson this one time only despite the house arrest, has his eyes narrowed on Izuku. Shinsou and Iida both look intrigued at the idea of battling him, but there’s still the flicker of uncertainty.

Todoroki is the one who looks the most excited though, a dull but excited determination alit in his gaze that has Izuku perking up. Dual-coloured eyes catch Izuku’s own green eyes, and something about the short exchange perks Izuku up.

He’s excited now.

Now that he hasn’t been immediately blacklisted, it’s starting to sound fun.

“I see some of you are interested in that,” Aizawa-Sensei muses boredly, “good. It’ll be good practice for anyone interested. Thus far, you’ve been majoritarily fighting Quirks you know. You’re starting to understand your classmate’s fight styles, which is good. But, Midoriya is an unknown, which you’ll face often as a Pro. Just as a reminder to all interested in taking him on in a fight, I expect things to be kept friendly. He’s not an enemy and you will be penalized if you do not heed this warning.”

There’s a chorused chirp of: “Yes, Sensei!” form the students.

It’s a bit of a weight off his shoulders, but he’s still a little nervous.

“Sensei!” Izuku looks towards Kirishima, who’s hand is raised and waving overhead. He doesn’t speak again until Aizawa-Sensei actually glances over, “what’s Midoriya’s Quirk?”

At this, Aizawa-Sensei (and everyone else) glances towards Izuku for an explanation.

His heart seizes in his chest at being the center of attention, “um,” he clears his throat awkwardly, trying not to wince at his own awkwardness, “it’s c-called, um, Superpower. It’s a strength enhancer, really, but I’m able to—”

“Don’t give yourself away,” Aizawa-Sensei cuts him off, looking away as Izuku’s mouth snaps shut with an audible click of his teeth. “All you get to know about Midoriya’s Quirk is that it’s an emitter type, and it’s powerful. The point of this activity if for you students to fight abilities you don’t know. A villain will not explain their Quirk to you in a fight. I want to see how you adapt against a Quirk and fight style you haven’t seen before.”

Izuku shuffles anxiously on his feet.

“Now,” Sensei continues easily, “if you do not want a chance to fight Midoriya, your options are individual Quirk training, which I will not be available to help you with today, or I will permit watching the battles if you’d like. Even if you don’t want to participate, I think everyone can learn something from watching. Knowing what you do, raise your hand if you’re willing to be pitted against Midoriya.”

Izuku is surprised by how many hands raise.

Half the class—Iida, Kacchan, Todoroki, Kirishima and Kaminari are the first ones, hands shooting up. Jirou raises her hand just after them, and Mina, Asui and Uraraka lift theirs too, a bit more hesitant than the others. Sero’s hand goes up as well, but he also doesn’t look completely certain, while Ojiro looks torn between raising his hand and just watching the battles.

“Okay,” Sensei nods, eyeing the line of students and doing a count, probably formulating a lineup of the battles to come. The man glances back at Izuku, studying his face before looking back at the students, “Midoriya will choose his first competitor, and after that, I will call you out one by one for your turn. You’re welcome to back out at any time, or choose to participate at any time too.”

There’s a rumble of affirmation from the students, and Izuku nods along as well, already looking down the line of students as he tries to choose who he wants to fight first.

He should probably pick someone where he won’t display the entire strength of One for All. He knows he’ll go hard against Bakugou and Todoroki both, just like he would in his class. They're both capable of keeping up with the powerful Quirk he has, whether they’ve reached that here yet or not he doesn’t really know.

Maybe it’ll be the push they need, but still, he shouldn’t choose the hardest competitors first, especially not when he’s still a wildcard to these 1-A students.

He hasn’t done a lot of fighting against Sero, Kirishima or Kaminari, but he knows the three of them are good. He’ll need to keep an eye out for Kaminari because he has been electrocuted before, even if by accident. It’s not fun. Sero is quick with his tape, and it’s hard to escape if he did manage to snag him. Kirishima’s hardening will also be a challenge, though Izuku’s sure he could break through it with one-hundred percent if it really came down to it, he wouldn’t do that in training like this.

Then there’s the girls.

Uraraka’s Quirk could be troublesome— he'd watched her go head-to-head against Kacchan during the Sports Festival, and has seen what she can do, but then again, he doesn’t know her endurance of her Quirk here—does it still make her sick when she overuses it?— and there’s not a lot for her to use as an advantage. Depending on when her turn is, there might not be anything around she can use her Quirk on.

He’s fought alongside Asui, and knows she’s quick and her frog tongue is hard to escape.

He hasn’t really fought against or with Mina or Jirou, but he knows they’re fully capable in his reality.

Then there’s Shinsou.

He’s probably the one Izuku’s most interested about considering he’s been in this 1-A class since close to the start of the year— or even since the start of the year. He isn’t completely sure when the other was added to the class.

There’s no doubt that he’ll be stronger than what Izuku knows, because he’s been learning under Sensei for months at this point. Just like Izuku and the rest of the students.

Plus, he’s got a capture weapon around his neck, and there isn’t a doubt in his mind that Aizawa-Sensei has something to do with that and that Shinsou definitely isn’t what he was during the Festival... If Shinsou knows Aizawa-Sensei's tricks, he’s in for a battle that’s even harder than their fight during the Sports Festival.

And, not to mention there’s also some other form of support gear settled snugly over his mouth.

Izuku isn’t quite sure what it's for, but he’s already wary of it.

“Well,” Izuku rolls his shoulder, almost squirming when he realizes they’re all waiting from him to make a decision. “Um, I’ve only fought Shinsou once where I’m from; during the Sports Festival, but all the gear he has is new to me. W-well, obviously not the concept of the capture weapon, even if the Shinsou I know didn’t use one back then. Um. I’m excited to see how much you’ve improved! So, um, can I fight Shinsou first?”

“Shinsou?” Aizawa-Sensei glances over for confirmation, which the tired looking teen offers with a shrug. “Alright. Midoriya vs. Shinsou. Everyone waiting for their turn, or watching, take a seat against the wall. Anyone going to individual training, other side of the gym so you’re out of the way. We’ll start in two minutes. Midoriya, Shinsou, take the floor.”

Izuku hesitates for just a second at the teacher’s side before scurrying after Shinsou who shuffles to the center of the gym as directed.

“It, um, it’s really nice to meet you, Shinsou,” Izuku breathes out nervously, “I think your Quirk is really neat! I’m very glad to get another chance to fight you again, and I hope I’ll get the opportunity where I'm from as well!”

“So, you know all about my Quirk then?” the other asks flatly, eyebrow cocking. “There goes my element of surprise.”

“A-ah, um, sorry,” Izuku winces. He doesn’t know why he feels so nervous around Shinsou. Maybe it’s because his Shinsou flat out rejected him after their fight. He’s still hopeful at some point they’ll be friends. And he really hopes Shinsou joins their class in his reality too, because he deserves it. “If... it’s any consolation, you got me good during the Festival in my reality. I thought it was amazing! I’ve never seen a Quirk like yours, it’s so perfect for Heroics! You definitely would’ve won if I didn’t snap out of your Quirk right when I did—”

“Hang on, you broke out of it?” Shinsou pauses, suddenly looking unsure. Or, maybe skeptical. “How?”

“O-oh, um,” Izuku rubs at the back of his neck, “I don’t... really know to be honest. I think I used my Quirk? I broke my fingers in the process, I know that much. I don’t know if it was the pain, or the actual Quirk affects but... yeah. It turned into a combat battle after that because I didn’t answer any more of your questions.”

“That’s morbid,” the purple-haired teen scoffs, but his lips to quirk upwards faintly. “If what you’re saying is true, don’t underestimate me. I’ve gotten a lot better at hand-to-hand since the start of the year.”

“I’ll bet!” Izuku grins, bouncing on his heels, “and you’ve got a capture weapon, and that support gear too now! I really am excited to see what you can do! I’ve also gotten a lot better, so let’s both try our best!”

“You’re quite the enthusiastic one, aren’t you?” the purple-haired teen drones, and Izuku’s not really sure if he’s annoyed or pleased. Izuku almost winces at the next words, doused in sarcasm: “Lucky me.”

“You two done with the chit-chat?” Izuku stiffens at the sudden voice, whipping his head to where Sensei is standing a couple steps away on the other side of a white line now drawn in chalk on the concrete floor. Izuku nods quickly, while Shinsou just cocks an eyebrow.

The man’s lips quirk up faintly before he turns to address everyone, “the same rules from the Sports Festival one-on-one battles apply here. I’ve drawn the boundaries for the battles; step out of them and you’re out. Last one standing in bounds wins. All the same rules apply— Quirk usage welcome at your discretion, and approved support gear is also allowed. Any questions?”

Aizawa-Sensei glances down the line of students sitting against the wall out of the way, before looking back at Shinsou and Izuku. No one has any questions. Satisfied with the understanding, Sensei continues, “okay then. Try to keep all your bones intact, and remember this is for practice. Keep it friendly.”

“Right!” Izuku chimes in reply, knowing the bones intact comment was directed at him. Shinsou offers a nod instead of any words, glancing sideways at Izuku.

They’ve split up to opposite sides of the boundaries as the man was explaining. Izuku nerves are finally kicking in. Shinsou’s body is lax, a forced sort of easiness that would probably put Izuku at ease if it weren’t for the fact he knows what Shinsou can do.

“Ready?” Sensei stands at the edge of the boundary lines, towards the center. He glances between the two of them casually. “Begin.”

For a long second, neither of them move. Izuku’s more or less waiting for Shinsou to make the first move— to set the pace, but the teen in question is just lazily scanning Izuku up and down.

Finally, “so, you’re from another world, right? You an alien or somethin’?”

Izuku pauses in confusion, opening his mouth to reply.

The correction of: reality, not world sits on the tip of his tongue, followed by an equal need to bristly defend himself with: No, I am not an alien!. He’ll admit he’s very close to answering Shinsou, but manages to stop himself just in time.

That’s how he activates his Quirk.

It’s a trap.

Izuku had learned from the first time.

He clamps his mouth shut and shoots the other boy an unamused look.

“Hey,” Shinsou shrugs, hands now lifting to lace through his capture weapon, “it was worth a shot anyways. Work smarter not harder, right?”

Izuku shakes his head at that, arching into a defensive position.

The first strike of Shinsou’s capture weapon goes for Izuku’s feet in an attempt to bind and trip him. He’s quick to channel One for All, using it to leap out of the way just as the material goes to encircle his ankles.

He dodges away from a second attack aimed for his thighs, and springs closer to Shinsou.

Shinsou takes a tiny step back, trying to put distance between them. He remembers the other boy being fairly good at hand-to-hand, when he’d been desperate to get Izuku out of bounds, but the capture weapon and his Quirk are much more suited for ranged attacks.

He’s good with the capture weapon, but not as good as Aizawa-Sensei. Izuku knows he wouldn’t be able to dodge Sensei’s fluent flicks of the material like he’s dodging Shinsou’s. Still, Izuku thinks if he didn’t have One for All’s speed enhancement, he probably would’ve been beat already.

Shinsou’s attacks are quick, and leave little time to formulate a plan, or even really get out of the way before another is thrown. The capture weapon is used almost like a whip, cracking towards Izuku without hesitation or regard.

He’s also taking care to keep out of Izuku’s reach, probably not want to be forced into close combat if he doesn’t have to be.

That’s how he’ll win this. That’s the only way he can win this without excessive force.

He just needs to get closer.

When Shinsou’s in reach, he’ll be able to grab him. Force him into combat. He doesn’t doubt Shinsou has learned some close combat, but Izuku hopes he’ll have the advantage there. His Quirk is more close combat oriented then a Quirk like Brainwash would be.

It’s hard getting close to Shinsou— in spite of the capture weapon being in near constant motion, he’s also moving around in the bounds. When Izuku gets close to him, the binding material of the capture weapon targets his limbs. He’s actually really impressed. He hopes his Shinsou gets to this point too.

At one point, Shinsou manages to snag Izuku’s wrist in his capture weapon, and Izuku panics. He grabs the capture weapon with his other hand, taking a step closer and pulling it taut before he gives a Quirk enhanced tug that has Shinsou topping forwards, grip on the capture weapon letting up just enough for Izuku to wiggle his hand free. Izuku jumps back as Shinsou catches himself.

“You’re good,” Shinsou observes, steadying his stance and bringing the weapon back so it coils around his neck. One hand is still laced in the material, so Izuku is ready for it to snap out again.

Despite that not being a question, Izuku still doesn’t respond. He doesn’t want to take any chances.

He rushes towards the other teen, and as he does, the capture weapon shoots out for his feet. He launches up into a leap to avoid it again.

It’s the closest he’d gotten to Shinsou. The closest he’s come to being able to touch him. He reaches a hand out to grab the other teen—

“Midoriya!” Aizawa-Sensei's voice has him faltering. “What are you doing?!”

“W-wha—” Izuku yelps, the urgency in the man’s voice has him panicking, swirling around mid-leap to see the man stood calmly on the sidelines. His mouth is twisted in a grimace, but it's... oh no. It’s not moving. He sees the man huff out a breath as he eyes Shinsou in exasperation.

Shinsou had used Sensei’s voice.

That explains the support gear mask on the other’s face. It’s a voice alterer.

It all feels like it happens in slow motion as he drops to the ground.

He feels Brainwashing take over just as his feet hit the floor. His body tenses up before automatically giving away to the power of Shinsou’s Quirk. He feels his eyes glaze over; that misty, seeing but unseeing sort of feeling settle in his gaze. He really doesn’t like this feeling.

“Turn around and walk out of bounds,” comes Shinsou’s own voice.

He winces internally as his body reacts instantly, turning slowly on his heels before stepping slowly in the direction of the boundary lines.

He feels a sick sense of déjà vu.

“Well?” Shinsou calls, an almost sort of boastfulness to his tone, “you gonna break free of it again, Midoriya, or was it a fluke when it happened in your reality? Did it even happen?”

It’s been a long while since the Sports Festival, and he’s grown a lot.

For a couple slow steps, he doesn’t even remember how he’d activated One for All that day. His head feels foggy right now, and his steps are slow and unsteady. It’s almost hard to breathe under his own internal panic.

It’s harder to find his Quirk then it had been, and that might be because All Might’s not here. He remembers looking at the Number One Pro. He remembers watching him, and feels defeat before a weird empowerment rippled through him. A silent but there encouragement.

He focuses on that feeling.

What he remembers of it.

He faintly hears the whispers of the vestiges now, and it’s a relief that they’re here too. At least something from his world is here with him. It takes another long second before he spots the collection of shadowy figures in the corner of the room.

They’re more distant than they had been during the Festival, and All Might is not with them this time around. They’re flickery; like they’re not supposed to be here, but still, he feels One for All spark to life in his fingertips. They’re gone just as fast as they appeared.

He manages to throw a hand back, channeling the Quirk into a similar flick of Delaware Smash. He tries to use as little force as he can, while still having enough fire-power to give himself an advantage. The force of the air jostles him out of Shinsou’s Quirk affects, he manages to catch himself before falling forwards, and even manages to make his opponent stumble back.

Izuku’s pleased to find his fingers still intact, despite not having his gloves. He’s not even as close to the boundary line as he had been at the Sports Festival either.

He knows Shinsou won’t be distracted long, so he turns on his heel and rushes at the other teen.

Shinsou is clearly not expecting Izuku to rush him so soon after breaking free of the Quirk— he looks startled that Izuku had managed his way out of it. It’s almost silly, because Izuku had told him he’s managed it before.

Nows not the time to dwell on it though.

He reaches Shinsou before the other can grab a hold of his capture weapon. Izuku manages to intercept the other’s wrist as it lifts to entangle in the support gear.

He uses just enough of his Quirk to toss Shinsou towards the boundaries, but not enough to harm him. He still hits the ground with a thump though. Izuku uses One for All again to follow him just after releasing him, dodging each desperate strike of the capture weapon.

Shinsou hadn’t even managed to push himself to his feet, flicking his binding cloth in an almost frenzy attempting to catch Izuku from his position on his knees.

Izuku launches himself to the air again, and Shinsou takes that second to push himself up.

Izuku winces internally as the purple-haired teen unknowingly gives him an opening; he’s not defending, so Izuku braces his wrist with his opposite hand and aims his hand in Shinsou’s unaware direction. He flicks his fingers in a more forceful flick attack.

Shinsou, who’d been in the process of steadying his balance, topples back at the force of it.

The fingers on Shinsou’s hands fall over the chalk line where he’d tried to catch himself.

“Midoriya wins,” Aizawa-Sensei calls as Izuku lands gracefully. He heaves a breath, offering the other boy a light smile. After a second of nothing moving, Izuku steps to where Shinsou hadn’t gotten up, the purple-haired boy looking particularly stunned. “Good work.”

“That was a good fight,” Izuku offers a hand to help the other up.

To his surprise, Shinsou takes it after shaking off his own stupor.

Izuku forces down the grin threatening to curl onto his face as he tugs the other boy up carefully, “that was hard; your support gear is amazing! And you handle the capture weapon really well too!”

Shinsou looks stunned, but for a new reason now. He eyes Izuku like he’s not sure about him, dropping their linked hands when he realized Izuku is still clutching at his hand in a sportsmanship sort of way. Shinsou tucks his hands into his pockets, burying his chin in his capture weapon.

“Yeah,” Shinsou huffs, “good fight.”

They stand awkwardly by each other for a second.

“Oi, Shinsou,” Sensei calls, and Izuku actually sees his mouth moving, pressed in a straight, almost annoyed look, “what did I say about using my voice?”

“Saw an opportunity,” Shinsou replies lightly, “and I took it. Approved support gear was allowed, right? It was a toss-up between using you and Kacchan. Midoriya’s clingy to you, and Bakugou’s obviously got some sort of connection to him after yesterday; it was the best odds. Plus, who’d ignore you, Sensei?”

Izuku sees Kacchan bristle where he’s sitting beside Kirishima, “aye. Call me that again, Eyebags, and I’ll beat your ass.”

“What, you wanna add more time to your house arrest, Kacchan?”

“Asshole—”

“Hey. Knock it off you two,” Sensei scolds tiredly shooting Kacchan a glare before refocusing is annoyed attention on Shinsou, “using my voice on Midoriya because he’s been shadowing me was cruel, Shinsou. You need to consider aftereffects before you target something like that, especially when it comes to civilians and your peers. You don’t know what using a personal voice like that will do to someone, as clever as it was. And we talked about you taunting people with strong Quirks. That’s biased and discriminatory.”

“Using your voice worked though,” Shinsou reasons, arms crossing over his chest. He glances cautiously over to where Izuku is digging his thumb at his wrist in a sort of massage.

It doesn’t feel as nice as when Sensei had done it.

Izuku startles to attention when he feels eyes on him, glancing quickly in Shinsou’s direction. The purple-haired teen cocks his head to the side, “sorry for everything I said though, Midoriya, I got a bit carried away.”

“T-that’s okay!” Izuku dismisses quickly, “I understand! You were a lot nicer then the first time we fought anyways. No hard feelings!”

Aizawa-Sensei glances over at Izuku quickly, scanning him with thoughtfully narrowed eyes before he turns the narrowed gaze towards Shinsou in warning, “just don’t do it again. Last warning you’ll be getting for using my voice. Next time you trick your peers with my voice, it’ll be a detention. You can’t use my authority to your advantage.”

“Message received,” Shinsou sighs guiltily, reaching up to lace his hands into his capture weapon before turning to where Izuku is watching the exchange, “congrats by the way. That was a good fight. I thought I had you there.”

“You almost did,” Izuku agrees with a weary smile. He rubs at aching fingers, mind going back to when he’d broken them in such a similar move at the Sports Festival. He can’t tell if it’s phantom pain, or if he’s aggravated old scars. “I have better control now, so I’m lucky in that sense. But I can see how hard it would be to escape your Quirk. You’re an asset; I can’t wait to see what kind of Hero you become!”

Shinsou blinks in surprise before his features soften faintly. He reaches up to tug the mask of his voice altering support gear down, offering a tiny smile. “Thanks.”

Izuku smiles widely. Even if this isn’t his Shinsou, it still feels like progress. It gives him hope for trying again in his reality. Plus, Shinsou seems really cool. He’d love to have him as a friend.

The purple-haired teenager finally steps away after glancing at first Aizawa-Sensei, who was walking towards them, and then at Izuku himself. He nods his head in a mutual dismissal before going to join his class, settling down the floor beside a raving, grinning Kaminari.

“Break anything?” Aizawa-Sensei's voice startles Izuku back from his thoughts.

“Oh, ah, no,” Izuku laughs awkwardly, offering his hands up for the man to study. The only damage actually there is irritated skin, but Izuku isn’t sure of that’s from the Quirk itself, or his own rubbing. “I’m fine.”

“Do they hurt?” Sensei reiterates casually, continuing when Izuku wrinkles his nose in confusion, “you were rubbing at your wrists. And your fingers. And I know you have chronic pain. I can see why; I’ve never seen an attack like that—” the man gestures to Izuku’s hands as he tries to settle on a good descriptor, “—wind attack. Not from what I assumed was a strength enhancer, at least. Quite the versatile Quirk.”

“Oh, no, I’m fine,” Izuku waves off, as he subconsciously rubs at his wrists. “I’m used to it. I have a high pain tolerance. Really, I’m good to keep going! That was really cool! Shinsou’s grown so much here, and now I can’t wait to see what else has changed! You’ve taught me loads, and I learned a lot from my work-study teacher as well. And All Might. Besides, with Shigaraki interested in me, I need all the tricks I can get.”

Sensei is quiet for a second, studying Izuku. Izuku isn’t sure how to decipher the look, and doesn’t even want to try. There’s worry and uncertainty, but a handful of other emotions he’s never really seen on Sensei.

Is what he said that worrying?

“Alright,” he finally relents. He doesn’t look pleased at his own decision. “But the same rules apply to you as they do to all my students. You can tap out at any time, alright? No questions asked.”

“I know,” Izuku assures with a lopsided smile, “and I will if I need to. Really, Sensei, this is good practice for me as well! I feel fine!”

The man’s face pinches uncertainly, but he turns to the class nonetheless, “Ashido, you’re up.”

Izuku fights Ashido, Kirishima, Asui and then Kaminari.

They all put up good fights, and they’re very close to his own class 1-A's skill level. He thinks he only wins because he has so much information on them and their Quirks from classes together and asking his peers questions.

Ashido relies too heavily on her acid. Izuku had never noticed that about his Ashido before, but he does now. Her hand-to-hand isn’t great, even as she slides around him using her acid. He isn’t sure if she’s trying to distract him, or if she’s just moving around so he can’t land a hit. She’s the easiest so far to get out of bounds because as she’s sliding, she’s not prepared for a long-distance attack. She slips out of bounds on her own acid when blown off course by his perfectly aimed flick attack.

Fighting Kirishima goes as about as well as Izuku thought it would. He’s harder to move when he’s hardened, and attacks just don’t land. Plus, if Izuku goes for close combat, Kirishima would probably have the upper hand considering he’s his own shield and he still has full range of motion. Izuku uses a bit more of One for All, launching into the air and inching him out by a powerful kick to the chest. He’s a little winded when he lets his Quirk drop, but Kirishima smiles widely as he rubs at his chest, simply telling Izuku his attack was manly.

Asui manages to catch him with her tongue and tosses him towards the boundaries, but before he passes over the line, he uses Delaware Smash to alter his course. He lands in front of her, catching her off guard and after some quick attacks where he has to dodge her tongue as she’s dodging his fists, he manages to get her out.

Kaminari is the fastest out. Not by anything Izuku does, just by Kaminari miscalculating his own electricity output within the first thirty seconds. He short-circuits himself, and Izuku doesn’t even get hit by it. He feels bad as Sensei calls a forfeited.

His fight against Kacchan is a little harder. It’s harder than his fight against Shinsou, but that’s because he’s so used to fighting his Kacchan. This Kacchan is smart, and powerful and everything his Kacchan is, but he’s not on the same level. He’s a little overconfident, even after watching how Izuku had been fighting the first couple rounds.

Izuku won’t say he’s sloppy by any means. He's really just not as practiced. It’s obvious this Kacchan hasn’t put in the same work, and the look on Kacchan’s face whenever Izuku dodges his attacks, or retaliates any attack Kacchan manages to land on him is telling him the blonde is quickly realizing that too.

He’s known Kacchan long enough now to know his attack patterns, and he’s watched his own Kacchan grow past this point. They’re simply not on the same level— the two Kacchans.

Izuku feels a little sick at the thought that he’s stronger then Kacchan here. Weird.

Izuku wonders if that means his theory is right?

Was there nothing motivating Kacchan to be better?

No one pushing him?

Well, he’s motivated now as Izuku meets one of his aerial attacks halfway and uses a One for All enhanced punch directly into Kacchan’s outstretched palm, which is already alit with crackling explosions. It burns, but Izuku endures it for the sake of following through.

It sends Kacchan flying backwards through the air, past the boundary line.

Izuku winces as he actually hits the wall behind him. Aizawa watches, giving an impressed little nod as he announces Izuku the winning again.

“No fuckin’ way,” Kacchan snarls as he pushes himself up, storming towards Izuku. “You better be fuckin’ serious about being a late bloomer, because if you were hiding this shit as a kid, you’re dead. How the hell’re you so strong?”

“I have to be strong to keep up with you,” Izuku offers in a shrug, half aware of the rest of 1-A watching. “I get better to keep up with you, and you get better to keep up with me. We’re rivals now. You can do so much more, Kacchan, but you just think everyone’s beneath you.”

“Yeah, everyone but you apparently,” the blonde snarls. “I can’t believe you threw me into a fucking wall. What the hell sorta Quirk even is that?”

Izuku chooses to disregard that, “you’ll never get better if you believe there’s nothing to be better for. There is. You’re not the strongest person in the world, and you won’t be if you’re not trying. I mean, I just took you out in a battle. We’re in the exact same class, have learned under the same Sensei, with the same classmates and we’ve been in similar fights. Not to mention you had your Quirk for ten years more than I’ve had mine.”

Kacchan narrows his eyes, arms crossing over his chest.

“The only thing that’s changed is I’ve been working hard to get better, and you’ve just been floating along thinking you are the best.” Izuku crosses his arms over his own chest, matching Kacchan’s stance with narrowed eyes. “You can’t be the best if you’re not trying, Kacchan. You can be so much better—I’ve seen it.”

Kacchan is nearly vibrating with anger, or annoyance, but to Izuku, he doesn’t look like he’s about to snap. He looks like he’s processing. Thinking.

“Woah, Bakubro!” Kirishima comes up behind the blonde hurriedly, clamping a fist onto his arm like he’s afraid Katsuki will launch at Izuku. “Don’t do anything brash. Calm down—”

“Fuck off,” Kacchan shakes his friend off, shoving Kirishima away when he’s no longer holding him. “I’m not gonna do anything to Izuku. He’s right, Shitty-Hair. I can’t believe you beat me. You. Beat me. Fuck. I can’t believe you’re lecturing me about power. I obviously need to get better if you’re throwing me around.”

“Funny, isn’t it?” Izuku snickers. He’s not afraid of this Kacchan. The apology yesterday had been heartfelt, and the emotion real. If he was scared of him at all, Izuku wouldn’t have requested Kacchan be able to participate and have a chance to fight him. “You are a great Hero, Kacchan, just... not yet.”

“Fuck you.”

“Bakugou,” Sensei calls stiffly, “do remember you’re here because of Midoriya. I will send you back to the dorms if you can’t keep yourself in check.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Kacchan growls, turning away from Izuku. “Again, I’m not gonna do anything to ‘im. I already fuckin’ said he’s right, didn’t I? I need to get stronger; just so I never lose to you again. You hear me, ‘zuku? I’ll get stronger so you never throw me into a fuckin’ wall again.”

“Can’t wait,” Izuku smiles widely. “I know you can do it, Kacchan!”

Kacchan stalks back to the rest of the class with Kirishima trailing after him. Sensei suddenly looks a lot more tired as he calls the next classmate.

He fights Iida and Uraraka next.

He wins both times.

He’s not sure if it’s stroking his confidence being able to win against strong opponents so many times in a row, or if he’s upset at how far behind this class is. It’s eye opening, really. How is one class of the exact same students, with the exact same teacher so far behind another?

They’ve even had similar events taking place except some of those events ended worse than the ones Izuku went through. That’s hard to even imagine. Like Iida and his permanent damage from Stain, for example.

“There’s time for one more battle.” Aizawa-Sensei calls as Uraraka shakes Izuku’s hand. She’s looking a little pale, and he’s not sure if she’d managed to curb her sickness that comes with overusing her Quirk. “Midoriya will be choosing his last opponent of the day. Those who want to fight, and haven’t had a chance yet, raise your hand.”

Izuku doesn’t even need to see who raises their hand.

“Todoroki-kun,” Izuku decides without hesitation. He’s waited this long and... with any luck, maybe Izuku will be able to help this Todoroki like he did his own back in his reality.

The fight starts off as well as it had when Izuku had fought Todoroki during the Sports Festival. He attacks with heavy ice attacks, just a bit better contained considering the boundary area isn’t as big as it had been during the Festival.

He can’t tell if Todoroki is trying to prove that he doesn’t need his father’s fire— that Izuku’s Todoroki is wrong— or if he’s really just trying to win with his ice. Todoroki can be stubborn. But, so is Izuku.

Izuku’s gotten stronger, so he doesn’t get hurt as easily. He’s a match for Todoroki’s ice now.

Back then, Todoroki had been stronger with just his ice and Izuku had struggled to stay in the fight. He’d only had One for All for a few weeks at that point. He’d struggled to keep up, and not let Todoroki win with half his power.

It’s not like that anymore.

He’s stronger, and he doesn’t break his bones when he shatters chunks of ice shooting towards him. Todoroki is startled as Izuku ploughs through his ice attacks. He sprints towards Todoroki, dodging and smashing through ice until he lands a hit on the other boy.

Well— he lands a hit on particularly strong ice just before he can hit Todoroki.

His defense is still amazing.

Izuku can see him getting tired. He’s getting tired, and frost is crawling across his skin. His breath comes out misty, and Izuku even sees him shiver.

He smashes another towering icicles with nothing more than a punch, and rushes once again towards Todoroki. He'll take whatever openings he can here. This time he lands a punch to the other teen. Todoroki reels back, stopped only from crossing over the boundary line by a wall of ice the shoots up.

“You’re strong,” Todoroki whispers, the words ghosted in with fog. “How are you so good at this?”

“I fight my Todoroki,” Izuku calls as he smashes through another chunk of ice. His hands are starting to hurt, the jagged ice making his knuckles bleed, and the few kicks he’s done he’s sure has bruised the top of his foot since he’s not wearing the right shoes. “You can be so much stronger, Todoroki-kun. Don’t let your father dictate your life. I’ve seen what you can do!”

“It’s his fire,” Todoroki growls, as Izuku launches at his with a kick. He shields his face as more ice shoots up. Izuku shatters through it, landing in front of Todoroki.

“No, it’s not!” He argues, letting One for All settle in his arm as he rears back to punch the dual-haired teenager, “it’s yours Todoroki. Your ice isn’t your mother’s, and your fire isn’t your father’s! They’re your Quirk!”

He throws the punch, intending to land it on Todoroki and force him back across the line—

Except he’s the one reeling back.

His fist aches as fire washes over it. He feels blisters bubbling up as he tugs back. Ouch. He really didn’t think this one through all the way, did he? He pulls his hand into his chest, leaping to the side to avoid a stream of flames barreling towards him.

It’s so hot that he needs to put distance between them.

Izuku takes a second to glance at Todoroki— his eyes are determined, palm cupping a flickering flame. Todoroki’s red hair is licked with flames, the frost on his skin melting away.

“I am not my father.”

“No, you’re not,” Izuku agrees as he narrowly misses another shot of fire.

Todoroki had just gotten ten-times stronger in no more than a second. But Izuku should’ve expected that— this was what sent him in to surgery after their fight.

“You’re stronger than him, Todoroki-kun. You’ll be better than him!”

As he’s dodging flames, a pillar of ice shoots up at his side. There’s nowhere else to go when he’s airborne—using his Quirk now, using his flick attack while surrounded by flames will send those flames towards the rest of the class by the force.

He hits it, wincing as he slams full force into it. He’s sloppier when it comes to smashing this pillar with his non-dominant hand. He doesn’t want to make the burns on his right any worse, but he’s not as good with his other hand.

The fire crawls closer, and Todoroki sends another wave of it barreling towards him. He’s intending to win. He probably will win at this point. More ice pops up and Izuku’s almost trapped.

The fire licks at his uniform, singeing through the material but not moving any closer. He thinks Todoroki is in full control, despite how new he is to using his fire. He’s so cool.

There’s not enough room to do much with Todoroki erecting ice formations everywhere as fire targets him. The space to move is getting smaller and smaller. It’s pushing him back towards the boundary lines, and Izuku’s never been prouder of Todoroki.

He meets his end in the battle when Todoroki guides an angry, flickering flame straight for him.

Izuku jumps out of the way, narrowly missing it, only to be slammed back by ice rushing him. There’s no time to destroy it, or dodge it. One side of him is a wall of flames, and the other is the intimidating white chalk line.

The ice catches his foot, freezing up to his knee as it carries him past the boundary line.

Izuku distantly hears Aizawa-Sensei's voice call a loud, “Todoroki wins.”

The ice and fire disappear— the flames melting the ice and the ice cooling the fires now that Todoroki isn’t avidly keeping both strong. The class erupts into cheers. Izuku doesn’t take it to heart, he thinks it’s about time he lost a match anyways.

Izuku shakes his head, smiling widely as Todoroki steps into his field of view, offering a hand up.

“Thank you,” he says calmly. “I understand your Todoroki Shoto now. You’re a good friend, Midoriya.”

“You did it,” Izuku laughs as he grabs Todoroki’s outstretched hand with his non-dominant hand. The dual-eyed teen tugs him up easily. “You’re already so strong. Don’t let your father cap you potential just because Endeavor also had fire. You don’t need to be his protégé, be your own Hero, Todoroki-kun.”

“I... will,” the boy nods stiffly. “I’ll surpass my father too, and I’ll use his fire to do it. He forced it onto me, but I’ll use it to be better than he ever could. My fire, and my ice.”

“Spiteful,” Izuku laughs good-naturedly, “I like it.”

“Todo-bro!” Kirishima rushes towards them, tacking Todoroki in a headlock, “that was so manly, my man! Your fire is so cool! I didn’t know you could do that!”

“Yeah, Todoroki-kun!” Uraraka chimes in, bouncing on her heels, “that was amazing! You were using both so easily! You kept cornering Midoriya! Wow!”

“First to beat him of our class,” Sero cheers, “congrats, man! He was a tough competitor!”

A lot of the class has gathered around Todoroki, and he looks... almost uncomfortable at the attention. Izuku snickers to himself as he eases away from the group, only to bump into a body before he can really sneak away from the mob.

“Oh, Sensei!” Izuku yelps, stumbling back, “sorry, I didn’t see you there.”

“You got hurt,” the man accuses, pointedly looking down to where Izuku is still nursing a burnt hand. The skin is charred and past blisters. Maybe it’s a little worse than he’d thought at first. Now that the adrenaline’s wearing off, it’s starting to ache.

Still, it’s a small price to pay in order to better the future and help a friend.

“It doesn’t hurt,” Izuku winces as the words leave his mouth. Aizawa-Sensei narrows his eyes dangerously on him, and Izuku squirms under the intensity. The teen lets out a nervous laugh, scratching at the back of his head with his uninjured hand, “okay, it hurts bit. But... it’s just another scar. I’ll be fine. I mean, I don’t even need to bother Recovery Girl, I can just bandage it up and—”

“You’re going to Recovery Girl.” Aizawa-Sensei cuts him off without batting an eyelash. “That’s not just a burn, Midoriya, you basically stuck your hand into an inferno. That’s a third-degree burn— it'll probably scar even with Recovery Girl’s Quirk.”

He was afraid of that. Why did Todoroki choose the exact moment he went for a punch to light up like gasoline fire. He doesn’t blame Todoroki at all, but still. Terrible timing.

“Now we’ll be sending you home with more damage,” Aizawa-Sensei sighs, rubbing at his eyes before dropping his other hand onto Izuku’s shoulder. “Sorry we stole your kid, don’t mind the scorch marks. Our bad.”

“To be fair,” Izuku leans into the man’s touch, snickering despite the pain pulsing across his hand. “I think I was tossed into your laps.”

The man’s lips quirk upwards as he shakes his head fondly. “My point still stands no matter how you got here, Problem Child. Either way, you’ll be going home with more scars than you arrived with. The number of your scars, and your terrifyingly high pain tolerance worries me.”

“I’m okay,” Izuku tells him with a small smile.

The man grimaces, gesturing down to Izuku’s burn with a jerk of his chin, “try telling me that again when you’re not crispy.”

Izuku lets out a startled laugh. He finds himself wincing halfway through.

Sensei glances down in concern.

“Woah, Midoriya,” Izuku glances up to see 1-A looking at him wide eyed. It’s Kaminari who’d asked, wide eyes locked on Izuku’s hand. “Are you alright?”

“I’ll be fine,” Izuku promises with a light laugh, focusing on Sensei squeezing his shoulder comfortingly instead of the pain in his hand. “I’ve fought Todoroki-kun before, so I knew this was a possibility. I had some pretty bad burns the first time around too, but I wouldn’t change what I did at all. Either fight.”

“I didn’t mean to hurt you,” Todoroki looks distraught, eyes lingering on the injury. “I’m sorry, Midoriya...”

“No, don’t be!” Izuku laughs awkwardly, waving a dismissive hand, “I’ll be fine. Besides, now I’ll have something to remember you all by when I return home! I’ll be good as new when I’m healed up!”

“Morbid,” Shinsou whispers from the side, and Izuku finds himself laughing again.

He’s not sure if it’s the pain making him slightly delirious, or if Shinsou just caught him off guard.

“Alright, alright,” Aizawa-Sensei calls attention, already leading Izuku away as he talks over his shoulder. “Class dismissed. You’re all free to return to the dorms. I’ll be taking Midoriya to the infirmary, but I’ll have my phone on me if you need me. You can talk to Midoriya later, if he’s up for it. Or tomorrow.”

Izuku's ushered quickly out of the gym, and 1-A is kind enough to shout well wishes at him as they go. It makes his feel warm inside. He's glad they don't hate him any more, even if they're not his classmates.

“Y’know,” Aizawa-Sensei breaks their comfortable silence as he guides Izuku towards the nurse’s office, “what you did for Todoroki was admirable. He’ll only go up from here, and you’re to thank for that.”

Izuku opens his mouth to brush the praise off, cheeks flushed.

“But it was stupid too,” Sensei adds without glancing down. “Don’t throw yourself into the flames for someone else’s sake. You’re supposed to be a Hero, not a self-sacrificial idiot.”

“Yeah,” Izuku pouts, “okay.”

“I hope you’re ready to face Recovery Girl, because we’re both going to be getting in trouble here.”

Izuku laughs once again, then laughs harder as Aizawa-Sensei's exasperated expression.

Definitely delirious.

Chapter Text

Shota doesn’t really know what to expect as he leads the kid towards the infirmary.

He’d dismissed the class a couple minutes early just so he could ensure they made it to the infirmary before the hallways suddenly got crowded. Shota doesn’t think crowding the kid while he’s nursing an injury like the burn he currently has will do the kid any favors.

He also doesn’t have to worry about them running into Yagi since today he’s doing Foundational Hero studies with the third-year students, and by extension, that usually means additional training for a couple of them. Yagi, like Shota, isn’t usually one to let the students go before the period actually ends.

It’s actually one of the few days of the week Shota doesn’t see the retired Pro at all. Not even in the teacher’s office, since Yagi spends his mornings at the precinct doing behind the scenes Hero work.

Shota walks briskly towards Recovery Girl's office, Midoriya keeping pace at his side.

It really is a worrying injury; one Shota would like to see get looked at as soon as possible. Burns are very susceptible to infection and schools are always a perfect breeding ground for germs and bacteria; no matter how clean the place is.

Not to mention how crowded schools are between the staff and the students. Bacteria is everywhere, so it’s best to get Midoriya to a sterilized location where he can be healed, and the remainder of the injury can be wrapped up and protected from outside forces.

It had taken everything in him not to react accordingly when seeing the injury Midoriya had been nursing. It was a burn definitely sat somewhere between second and third degree. It looked bad; probably one of the worst Shota had seen come from a school exercise like the one they’d been doing.

Shota had seen a lot of burns over the years— fire-based Quirks weren’t exactly rare, but it’s been a long time since one this bad had happened during classes.

His class especially.

He’d known there was a possibility something could’ve gone wrong; Midoriya talked about the Todoroki in his reality using his fire side after a fight with Midoriya during the Sports Festival, and Shota can’t lie and say he hadn’t thought it was a possibility that Midoriya could get through to this Todoroki as well.

He’d hoped, honestly— getting Todoroki to a point where he could comfortably use both his ice and fire would be amazing, but he hadn’t really expected it to actually happen. Not with how Todoroki tends to close himself off when the fire aspect of his Quirk is even so much as mentioned.

Todoroki’s Quirk, the fire side, was a new addition to class; an unknown variable that Shota hadn’t really prepared himself to deal with since it was unlikely to appear— just as Midoriya himself was an unknown that Shota didn’t completely understand.

He’d put some trust into both Midoriya, as well as the Aizawa Shota over in his reality and he wasn’t disappointed— though he probably should’ve set more specific guidelines when it came to the exercise. Like calling a breather, at minimum, when injured of any sort. It should be a given, but knowing his gremlins, and knowing Midoriya is one of these gremlins somewhere else, he’s not surprised Midoriya is looking out for others growth in the class, instead of his own wellbeing.

Other Aizawa really might have his hands full with Midoriya in his class too.

When a serious injury like Midoriya’s does happen, no matter how much he wants to freak out and sweep the student off to the nurse; he’s learned to read the student themself to determine how he should react.

What he does as a figure of authority, a teacher and Pro Hero, will directly affect his entire class—not just the injured student. Though what he says and does will have the most effect on the injured student; Midoriya in this instance.

He’s noticed that teens, like small children, often look for guidance when they’re injured.

When they’re in distress and looking for comfort, they often look to the closest authority figure. It’s a habit they haven’t quite broken yet— not unlike children and toddlers when they get hurt.

If Shota outwardly shows concern when the injured person in question doesn’t, there’s a possibility it will send the person into hysterics. He’s seen concern from an authority figure make them frantic; like they’d wrongly assessed the situation or are realizing that there’s something wrong.

Things get worse when the person they’re supposed to be trying to keep calm and help starts to panic as well. No one’s thinking clearly then.

Plus, if he himself got worked up and panicked over an injury in class, no matter the severity, he’d lose his level head and quick thought process, which is a valuable asset in an emergency. He and everyone around him needs someone to not be panicking— everyone needs someone to take control of the situation and make sure what needs to be done is getting done; like getting Midoriya to Recovery Girl asap.

Getting the kid help without causing panic in either the teen himself, or Shota’s 1-A students.

It’s no different than first responders, doctors and nurses needing to keep calm no matter what they’re looking at in an emergency setting. People can die if split second decisions aren’t being made, and when you’re panicking, your thoughts aren’t as fast as someone with a clear head.

And as young Heroes-in-training, he needs to let them assess themselves first before he steps in and guides the situation. Teenagers are more than capable of gauging their own pain, and most of his students are good about cutting themselves off if they need to.

But, if they don’t put those limits up for themselves, Shota will for them. He’ll never hesitate in making sure any of his kids are getting the medical attention they need.

Like Midoriya trying to refuse visiting Recovery Girl despite the burn.

He hasn’t quite figured that one out yet.

Hesitance isn’t usually something he sees when it comes to Recovery Girl visits— she's sharp, sure, but she does generally have a grandmotherly nature that puts the students at ease.

Shota’s once again reminded of the boy’s worryingly high pain tolerance as he thinks back to spotting the injury right after the battle. Did Midoriya even know how urgent his burn truly is? How much pain does he feel? How much is he just enduring? Is this really something he’s just used to?

Midoriya didn’t outwardly express any panic— not when it happened mid-fight, and not when the battle had ended. He hadn’t approached Shota; Shota had ended up approaching him. Midoriya hadn’t looked like he thought the burn was serious; not as serious as Shota believes it to be.

He’d talked about patching himself up, like it was like it was a familiar thing to him; and the innocently honest words made something unpleasant coil in Shota’s stomach.

The child didn’t cry, or scream, or even try to call the exercise off when he’d gotten hurt. He’d hardly flinched. Shota believes the burn must’ve come from that first burst of fire, it was big— pent up flames like it had literally bursted from Todoroki in an act of desperation. Midoriya had been going in to land a hit when Todoroki had ignited his flames. He’d watched Midoriya spring backwards away from the flames and seeing that, he’d assumed Midoriya hadn’t been as close to Todoroki as Shota had thought.

He was wrong, apparently.

The kid had gotten heavily injured, in a spot with endless nerves which would’ve hurt like hell, not to mention a spot that directly interferes with his fight style (as far as Shota could tell after observing the child in action)— and instead of backing off and calling for a time-out or ending the match, he’d just continued to fight almost entirely one handed.

Not only that, but he’d also managed to keep his hand out of view as he avoided ice and flame attacks. Had Shota seen that hand before the fight finished, he would’ve called the whole thing off. It was the sort of injury he expected the students to know that it should be looked at immediately.

And if Midoriya is in his class in another reality, which he really doesn’t doubt whatsoever at this point, then the teen would know that.

It may not be an incapacitating injury, but it hurts, and it can do serious damage if not tended to. Quickly and correctly. Burn ointments, and healing Quirks. Sterile gauze and bandaging. As low a chance of infection as they can manage.

But Midoriya had been smart about it, and that’s something that Shota’s scared of.

The kid hadn’t cried out, or screamed, or even shed a tear. He hadn’t even really brought attention to it himself; Shota has a sinking feeling in his chest that if he hadn’t of brought it up, Midoriya wouldn’t have.

They come to a stop outside the infirmary. It doesn’t sound like there’s anyone inside. If they’re lucky, the room will be clear of students and Recovery Girl will be tucked in her little adjoining office working on paperwork. Shota doesn’t want any more stress piled onto Midoriya’s shoulders.

Shota goes to open the door, hand settling on the door handle, but that’s as far as he gets when he notices Midoriya had stopped a couple steps back, shuffling nervously as he stares down at his own shoes. He’s still got his hand cradled to his chest, and Shota can’t even see the injury with how the boy’s curled in on himself faintly.

Shota eases his hand off the handle, turning to the kid with a cocked eyebrow, “what’s the matter?”

Midoriya shifts without looking up. The kid’s got his hand curled up to his chest, opposite hand hovering over the worst of the burns. Shota hadn’t gotten a great look at the boy’s hand— he knew it was bad from the glimpses he’d gotten; you could tell that much from a distance, but he doesn’t really know the severity of it considering Midoriya had hardly reacted.

“Just...” Midoriya swallows, glancing to the side, “do we have to bother Recovery Girl?”

“Bother?” Shota repeats in hidden surprise, “this isn’t a bother, Problem Child, this is her job. She’s paid to tend to your wounds— that's what a school nurse does. You have a serious burn, and it needs medical attention.”

“I just don’t like to bother her when it’s... when it’s something I could take care of myself, y’know? She um... she doesn’t really like patching me up. I’m a—” the kid swallows again, sharp and almost nervous, “I’m a regular, I guess.”

Shota doesn’t say anything for a long second.

It feels like he’s stumbled into another red flag.

Where is this hesitance coming from? Why is he nervous about being a regular visitor to the nurse’s office? This is a Hero school—the majority of the students are regulars. What makes Midoriya different? What did Recovery Girl, or Midoriya’s Recovery Girl do?

He feels like he keeps walking himself into brick walls when it comes to unraveling the student before him. Whenever it feels like they’re on the right path, Shota finds himself slamming headfirst into something new. Something else he should be concerned about.

This just raises more questions for Shota. Would the kid have hidden the injury had he not seen it in fear of a visit to the nurse? Would he have patched himself up?

This really wasn’t the type of injury he could get away with that. There’s a great risk of infection in a burn like the one he’s nursing. Infection would spread fast in an open wound like that—even with Recovery Girl’s Quirk it’ll most likely scar, and it won’t be an instant heal.

He’d still get bandaged up to protect the susceptible to infection wound, and he’ll probably get prescribed some sort of pain reliever too. Burns hurt. Hands have a lot of nerves and nerve endings that were essentially charred. He doesn’t know how far the burn goes, but he knows it hurts.

“This isn’t the type of injury you should be patching up yourself,” Shota says slowly, taking his hand entirely off the door handle as he leans back against the wall. He’s suspicious of why Midoriya wilts in relief when he’s no longer touching the door. “The burn you have is likely a second degree that leans towards third degree. That’s bad, Kid. I doubt even Recovery Girl would be able to heal that in one go. It should be handled by a professional to minimize the chance of infection.”

Midoriya hesitates, looking at the door before his eyes flick to Shota, “you’re sure she won’t mind? I-I mean, I’m not... I’m not even a student here and w-with Deku being, um, a-a villain I doubt she’d be comfortable with me—”

“She won’t mind,” Shota assures carefully, “and if she does, we’ll be having words. I’m sure Nezu would also like to hear about the school nurse displaying discriminatory tendencies. I have no doubt Nezu spoke to her personally about your presence here, and if she’s still hesitant, that’s a problem.”

“I don’t want to get her in trouble.”

“If she’s mistreating you, she’d be getting herself into trouble,” Shota refutes calmly.

He pauses for a moment, eyeing the child.

Midoriya looks away when they make a brief half-second of eye contact.

“You can’t keep taking blame for other’s actions, Midoriya.” Shota reminds. He’s not exactly sure what the holdup is, but it can’t hurt to remind the kid anyways. “What Deku has done, you had no part in, and if Recovery Girl mistreats a temporary student who just so happens to be named Midoriya Izuku and look like the villain Deku, that’s on her. You’re not doing anything wrong by coming here with a serious injury; that’s what this infirmary is for. This is a school teaching a dangerous profession, we expect injuries.”

“But...” the boy hesitates, staring nervously at the door. He curls his injury closer to his chest, holding his injured hand by the wrist with his other hand. Shota spots the raw skin now that it’s not covered. “You’re sure she won’t mind?”

“I’m sure,” Shota nods, keeping his tone calming. “And on the off chance she does mind, which she won’t, I’ll take you to the hospital myself. You’re hurt, Midoriya, you deserve professional treatment.”

The kid swallows, studying Shota like he’s searching for dishonesty. Shota keeps his expression neutral, curious as to what the teen finds. Something has the boy shuffling closer, some of the tension easing from his expression. The man quirks an eyebrow as Midoriya finally slumps his tense shoulders.

“Yeah,” the boy finally blows out, but he doesn’t look entirely convinced. Still, he looks towards Shota with a grin that wavers faintly. “Besides, it... wasn’t my Quirk this time anyways so... you’re right. I didn’t really do it to myself, right? I-I mean, it wasn’t, um, because of me... so... I-I’m sorry. L-let's, uh, I mean, w-we can go in now. I’m ready.”

Shota thinks he should be pushing more about this— it's obviously another wall that Midoriya’s assembled at some point due to something regarding Recovery Girl or the infirmary in general that Shota doesn’t understand. Whatever trauma relating to the infirmary could end up being dangerous and harmful if the fear and hesitance Midoriya harbors hinders his decision making.

If he doesn’t get a serious injury treated— like the burn he was fully prepared to not even show Shota despite the obvious pain and severity— because he’s afraid and it gets worse because of the lack of treatment.

He hesitates for just a second before deciding that this conversation can wait.

The kid’s given his consent to go into the room now and that burn really needs to be tended to.

He can push while Midoriya’s resting after Recovery Girl’s Quirk treatment.

Shota pushes down the concern and instead gestures the kid to join him at his side, hoping to offer any comfort in the fact Midoriya isn’t facing this alone, as he replaces his hand on the handle and finally opens the door.

Midoriya presses into Shota’s side, and the man says not a thing about it. He doesn’t even glance down.

The infirmary is empty, thankfully, and he doesn’t spot Recovery Girl just milling around, so it's probably been a quiet day for her. There’s a second where he and Midoriya stand side by side in the doorway until Recovery Girl finally emerges from her little adjoining office, gaze narrowing on Shota first, almost disapprovingly before dropping to Midoriya, who almost cowers away from the small woman.

She seems to notice just as well as Shota does, considering she makes no move to come any closer.

“It’s you two,” the nurse comments lightly, “Nezu-San mentioned there was a chance I’d be meeting Midoriya-kun, so, what are we dealing with? Aizawa-kun?”

“A burn,” Shota offers when Midoriya doesn’t. He cups a calming hand around Midoriya’s shoulder, leading the child into the room as Recovery Girl steps back to let them pass, leaning on her cane. “Todoroki unleashed a surprise flame attack during our battle exercises, and unfortunately, Midoriya was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“I see,” Recovery Girl hums, “well, maybe I won’t be dealing with so many frost bite injuries in 1-A, though I’m not sure burns are much better. No matter now, let’s not dally. C'mere, Dearie, come sit down on the cot and we’ll take a look.”

Midoriya moves on autopilot while still managing to keep his distance from Recovery Girl. He scampers across the room, managing to shuffle up onto the cot one handed. Shota follows suit, standing beside the bed. Midoriya shuffles closer to Shota as Recovery Girl finally joins them, now donning latex gloves.

Shūzenji settles in front of Midoriya, waiting expectantly for the teen to offer up his injury to be assessed. Midoriya glances back at Shota, and it almost feels like the kid is just verifying that he’s still here. Shota gives a nod of encouragement as he tries to pick apart the boy’s actions while still keeping his focus on the child.

Midoriya unfurls his hand, wincing as he spreads his fingers and shows the nurse the top of his hand.

It’s mostly the boy’s knuckles that got hit. The burn runs down the backs of his fingers faintly, stopping just before the second joint; while it blisters towards the middle of his hand in the other direction. It doesn’t look as bad as Shota had been expecting, but it’s still a fairly bad wound.

“Hn,” Shūzenji hums as he gently holds the tips of Midoriya’s fingers in her hand, the thumb of her opposite hand grazing along the reddened skin around the worst of the wound. “Quite the burn here, Dearie. It must hurt. Todoroki-kun did quite a number on you.”

Midoriya offers a slow nod of agreement.

“I can use my Quirk on you; though by the looks of both your stamina levels, and the depth of this wound, it won’t heal entirely. I can’t work miracles, but I can speed up the healing process. You’ll still need to be careful and keep the wound clean and protected so it doesn’t get infected.”

Shūzenji nods along with her own words, finally releasing Midoriya’s hand.

The teen curls his hand back into his chest, inching closer to Shota. The man hasn’t moved, stood at Midoriya’s side with his hands tucked in his pockets. The edge of the bed is pressing against the back of his knees, and he has half a mind to sit down beside the kid. He doubts Midoriya would mind.

Shūzenji pulls the gloves off her hands, turning to the locked cabinet where she keeps medications. Shota watches out of the corner of his eye as she unlocks it and scrounges around through the pill bottles.

Shota’s glad to see ibuprofen in her hand, knowing Midoriya is likely in pain even if he’s not showing it.

“Before we go any further,” the old woman turns back to Midoriya, offering the two pills she’d dumped into a tiny plastic cup, “you take these. Even after my Quirk you’ll still be in pain. Aizawa-kun, why don’t you go grab Midoriya-kun a cup of water to wash the pills down with. I’ll gather up the supplies I’ll need to tend to the burn after it’s been healed a bit.”

Shota doesn’t feel great about leaving the kid— even if the infirmary has its own sink hidden away at the back of the room, as well as a small restroom. Midoriya’s hesitance is still bothering him, so he doesn’t want to go too far from him. Not when Midoriya is in a place where he doesn’t feel comfortable, and Shota is acting as a stand-in figure of comfort.

Shota doesn’t know what the deal is, but if Midoriya is clinging to him, he’s not about to take that comfort and security away. It would be illogical.

Still, he’d known the woman too long to not do as she asks.

Like Nezu, Recovery Girl had been on staff when Shota had attended this very school fifteen years prior. She almost has the same amount of pull, and she’s as highly respected as the rodent they call a principal.

He lingers for a second before finally stepping away from the boy so he can do as asked. Shūzenji has a stack of little paper cups for times just like this, so Shota grabs one and beelines for the sink at the back of the infirmary.

He’s still aware of the conversation taking place between the student and the nurse, listening for anymore tells of Midoriya’s discomfort or red flags in the kid’s words or actions.

“You’ll feel very tired after I use my Quirk, Dearie,” Shūzenji says lightly, the usual spiel for when she uses her Quirk on someone for the first time. She’s still buzzing around the room as she gathers her supplies, speaking as she goes, “you’re aware of how my Quirk works then? Some of your scars, I know the scaring pattern left by my own Quirk, so you must’ve been healed by me before.”

“Y-yes,” Midoriya squeaks out, “I-I do, I mean, I know the effects of... of your Quirk. You’ve healed me a lot. I, um, I’ve come here a lot, I mean. B-back when I... wasn’t very good at using my Quirk. N-not so much now since I mostly understand it...”

The woman shoots Midoriya a knowing sort of look that Shota doesn’t understand.

It has the kid’s shoulders caving in though, as he makes himself look small. The child doesn’t say anything, and neither does the nurse. There’s a weird sort of tension that had formed, and Shota doesn’t understand it.

The underground Hero returns to the cot where Midoriya has finally arranged himself so he’s laying back against the pillow, spread along the length of the bed but still managing to make himself look small.

The man watches as the teenager pointedly looks away from the nurse, despite how Shūzenji is studying him still. He settles at the boy’s bedside, shooting the nurse a challenging look, which Shūzenji wisely backs down from. She goes back to searching through her hoard of ointments.

With the sudden tension eased, Shota finally hands the water over to the teen before sitting on the opposite side of the bed in a visitor’s chair that he pulls over. Midoriya’s shoulders lose some of the tension as he pops the pills in his mouth and sips at the water, eyes flicking over to Shota every couple of seconds.

Midoriya holds onto the cup with a tight, nervous fist even when it’s empty.

He clutches at it with his good hand until Shota manages to ease the crumpled cup from his grip. Midoriya looks surprised to see the state of it, so Shota assumes he wasn’t aware he’d been squeezing it. He wonders if he took a closer look, if he’d find faint nail indentation scars.

Maybe the kid could do with a stress ball or something? Hizashi has dozens.

The man holds onto the cup too, instead of getting up to throw it away. He knows he just doesn’t want to leave the kid again just yet, not when he’s already so on edge.

“Alright,” Shūzenji turns towards them, wheeling over a tray of various medical supplies. “We’ll try to make this quick. You’ll be very tired after I use my Quirk, so just try not to move to much while I bandage you up, alright, Dear?”

Midoriya nods, offering his hand to her with little hesitance.

The nurse looks the wound over again before leaning down and pressing a loud kiss to the boy’s wrist, just above where the burn starts. Midoriya wilts instantly in exhaustion but stays awake.

Shota silently concludes the teen probably has spent a great deal of time with Recovery Girl in his reality. He has the scars to vouch for that, after all, but he’s also fairly used to her Quirk.

“There we are,” Shūzenji coos lightly as Midoriya’s eyes slip shut before opening again, keeping an eye on his hand and the nurse still studying the wound. The old woman watches the wound heal— the rawest looking parts of the wound healing up to something close to a first degree.

The skin is raw and inflamed, but it’s no longer a deep, angry wound.

It’s not perfect, considering the skin likely would've needed a graft if they didn't have Recovery Girl’s Quirk on hand. She can’t rebuild skin, but she can clean it up. The burn itself looks like it’s been healing for weeks at this point, but the dip in his hand leading towards his knuckles now is obviously going to scar pretty bad.

Shota bites his lip at the thought. Clearly Midoriya can’t catch a break in any universe.

At least his actual knuckles look better and will probably heal up well over the next couple weeks, even if they are still burned. Shota had seen him fight; his whole style revolves around punching. He’s glad the kid hadn’t been hurt enough to need to reevaluate his entire fight style.

“How’re you feeling, Midoriya-kun?” Shūzenji asks lightly, a small smile on her lips as the kid’s eyes sliver open to look at her. The Quirk must be catching up to the physical strain of fighting all afternoon.

The boy focuses his eyes, cocking his head to look back at Shota almost as if assuring himself the teacher is still at his side before nodding towards Recovery Girl.

“Good,” she hums, “I suspect that this’ll still leave some pretty bad scaring, but that can’t be helped.”

“That’s alright,” Midoriya finally murmurs, “thank you for your help.”

Shota watches from afar as Shūzenji gets to work bandaging up the burn. He knows how to treat first degree burns, so he’s prepared to change the kid’s bandaging later.

The old woman makes quick work of cleaning it with a soft cloth and a small bowl of warm soapy water before applying ointment to the wound. She then places gauze strips on the remaining rawer parts of the burn— his knuckles and the tops of his fingers mostly— before she’s wrapping the entirety of the child’s hand so there’s no chance of anything getting into it.

When Shūzenji pulls away, Midoriya pulls his hand back, looking drowsily at her finished work. “Thank you. It feels a lot better.”

“You’re welcome, Dear,” she smiles, more with her eyes than her mouth.

Shūzenji turns to clean up the packaging for the supplies she’d used, crossing the room to throw everything away. She even takes the cup from Shota’s hands, which he’d completely forgotten he’d been holding.

With everything cleaned up and returned to its spot, the woman stands beside Midoriya’s bedside, gaze tracking over his reclined form, eyes shut but still awake.

Shota leans back in his chair, content to let the kid rest, and Shūzenji glances between the two of them before deciding to do the same; turning on her heels and taking exactly one step away—

“Um, R-Recovery Girl?”

“Yes, Dearie?” the woman pauses, glancing back. Shota sees the kid’s eye open, attention on the nurse.

“I-I’m very sorry to have bothered you today,” the teen bows his head like he’s expecting a lecture. “I didn’t mean to get hurt.”

Shūzenji shoots Shota a bewildered look at the boy’s words, but Shota doesn’t know how to explain. He doesn’t even really understand. The kid shouldn’t be apologizing for getting hurt. That’s a part of learning; it’s a part of life.

“Nonsense, Child,” the woman huffs, “I expect you to come to me with injuries like this burn. This was a very serious wound, Midoriya-kun. Something like this needs professional treatment, and I’ll hear nothing otherwise. This is not a bother— not when it’s your wellbeing we’re talking about, ya’hear?”

“B-but you said—” the teen clamps his jaw shut, looking away from both the adults. He sucks in a breath, glancing up before looking back down at his lap like a scolded child, even though neither of them said a thing. “N-never mind.”

And that’s suspicious, isn’t it?

Shūzenji is shooting Shota a narrowed look, and the man can only match her gaze.

There’s definitely something she’d said— not this Recovery Girl specifically, but the one in Midoriya’s world. She’d said something that scared the kid. He doesn’t know what; can’t imagine Recovery Girl saying anything that would fracture a kid’s trust in her.

“Alright,” the woman finally concludes, “I’ll just be in my office for a while working on some paperwork. I want Midoriya-kun here for at least half an hour so I can monitor him, and he’ll be taking some nutrient gummies before he’s cleared to leave. I suspect you’ll be keeping him company?”

Shota nods even though the question is just a formality. Of course, he’s staying with the kid, and she knows it. If he’s been here this long instead of just dropping the kid off like usual, he won’t leave now.

“Good,” Shūzenji huffs, “call for me if anything happens, Aizawa. You know the drill. You boys behave out here.”

Shota offers a silent nod that’s really nothing more than bowing his head in her direction. Her lips quirk upwards as she returns the nod, turning on her heels and disappearing into her office. Shota hears the office door shut with a soft click.

The man glances back at the teen, seeing Midoriya’s eyes shut. His eyes are shut, but Shota can tell the boy isn’t asleep. His breathing is too erratic and his eyelids flutter like he’s making a conscious effort to keep them shut.

The teen’s injured hand is settled at his side, and his other hand is gripping the fabric of his shirt.

He looks uncomfortable, even with just the two of them in the room.

Shota leans back against the back rest of the chair, waiting a moment longer.

“Talk to me, Problem Child,” Shota finally says, making sure to keep his voice soft even though he’s sure Shūzenji is distracted in her office. He doubts she’d eavesdrop— she has better things to do as the nurse of an entire school, and he knows her to be more professional than that. As a healthcare provider, she knows how important privacy is, and Shota hopes she trusts him to get to the root of this problem.

The boy’s eyes sliver open at the sound of his voice, eyebrows furrowing as he studies Shota suspiciously, “about what, Sensei?”

“Why were you scared to meet Recovery Girl?”

“I wasn’t,” Midoriya immediately replies. It’s far too fast of a response to be the truth, and Shota doesn’t know if the teen knows he shuffles anxiously where he’s sitting.

Shota is quiet for a long second as the boy squirms.

“You were,” Shota insists calmly, “you were scared to come into the infirmary, and you’re still scared, even now. I just want to know why, Kid.”

“I don’t think it really matters, Sensei,” Midoriya whispers, eyes squeezing shut.

“I think it does,” Shota counters, leaning forwards so his elbows are on his knees; hands interlaced between his knees. “It matters if you’re afraid to come for help when you need it. I don’t like that, Kid. You were scared before you even met this Recovery Girl, so it couldn’t have been something she said, which leads me to believe it was something that’s happened in the past, which still unnerves you.”

Midoriya is quiet, eyes slivering open so he’s watching Shota.

Shota makes sure not to give anything away in his expression or body language; taking care to keep his face neutral and his body relaxed even as his thoughts are going a mile a minute. This is a concern—anything that could potentially harm Midoriya in either reality is a problem.

Fearing going to the nurse, even when you need medical attention is dangerous, and Shota wants to get to the bottom of it before it affects anything. Before it hurts the kid in the long run.

“I want to help you,” Shota sighs, leaning back in the chair. “I want you to be safe— to feel safe here. And ideally in your reality as well, but mine for sure. I can’t help you if I don’t know what the problem is.”

Midoriya hesitates, finally opening his eyes all the way. He looks tired. Almost as tired as Shota feels.

The boy snags his bottom lip between his teeth, gnawing thoughtfully. “She... won't get into trouble, will she?”

“Recovery Girl?” Shota guesses, keeping his tone neutral. The kid looks away, so Shota assumes he’d hit the nail on the head. “No, she won’t. Not here. She hasn’t done anything wrong; just like you and Deku. You may be the same person, but you’re obviously different as well. Whatever your Recovery Girl did to you will not fall back onto the Recovery Girl you just met.”

“It’s nothing bad,” Midoriya finally breathes out, shoulders slumping. “Not... not really. She was right anyways. I guess I’ve just sorta... subconsciously held onto it, y’know?”

“Held onto what?” Shota asks calmly.

“Back at the start of the year...” the boy hesitates, “um, just after the Sports Festival when I... after my fight with Todoroki-kun, um, just like this one but... but we both went harder, I suppose. You already know I needed surgery after that. I was...” the kid nervously rubs at the back of his neck with his unbandaged hand, “I was pretty banged up. A-All Might was there with me, I remember that.”

Shota listens quietly, picking the child’s words apart.

He’s heard bits and pieces of Midoriya’s Sports Festival in his reality, and if the fight he’d just witnessed between Todoroki and Midoriya today was regular occurrence compared to the actual Sports Festival battle in Midoriya’s reality, Shota knows it must’ve been a spectacle.

“We...” the kid scrunches his nose up like he’s trying to figure out a good way to continue, “All Might and Recovery Girl were there when I woke up and she... wasn’t very happy? I’ve broken my arms enough times since I got my Quirk that they’re going to be irreparable at some point if I kept going how I was going.”

“Okay,” Shota breathes in through his nose. He’s got a lot of questions— like, why was All Might in the infirmary with a first-year student coming out of anesthetic after a surgery? He’ll worry about that later though. “And what did she say to you when she was upset that you’d gotten hurt?”

And that’s where the boy clams up.

He looks towards the office door Shūzenji had disappeared through before slowly dragging his attention back to Shota. His uninjured hand squeezes into a nervous fist, and Shota just knows there’s crescent shaped indents in his palm.

He should text Hizashi about a stress ball when he has a second.

The underground Hero is dragging his chair closer to the bed so he can settle his hand over Midoriya’s, wedging his fingers between Midoriya’s nails and his palm. The teen relaxes his fist on autopilot, now staring down at Shota’s hand just barely holding onto his own.

Finally, after a long second where Midoriya stares at where Shota is holding his uninjured hand, the teen draws in a shaky breath and gives a light squeeze of his hand. His next words a breathy and careful, “she... said she wasn’t going to heal me anymore.”

Shota sees red. The school nurse had told a first-year student she wasn’t going to heal him anymore? A first-year student who’d just gotten his Quirk? A highly self-destructive Quirk that he had zero control over? What kind of bullshit is that?

The other Aizawa might not have known about just how recent Midoriya’s Quirk manifestation was, but the school nurse should’ve. Nezu as well, since the rodent knows everything. It’s unlikely the two of them wouldn’t have known, which just pisses Shota off even more.

“W-well—” the boy sputters, and Shota faintly wonders if he’d tensed up his own hand. “That’s not completely right! I mean, th-that's not exactly how it... um, how it really happened. She was upset and... a-and she didn’t really say she wasn’t going to heal me anymore! Just! Just... that she wasn’t going to heal self-inflicted injuries... c-caused by my Quirk.”

“She said what?” Shota tries very hard not to snarl, but he’s not sure he succeeds.

That doesn’t make it any better.

“You said Recovery Girl wouldn’t be in trouble!” the boy yelps, “I’m sorry, Sensei! It’s fine, really! I-I don’t think she really meant it! I don’t think she’d withhold medical t-treatment! N-not really!”

“That doesn’t change the fact that she threatened you in the first place,” Shota reigns in the anger he feels swirling in his chest, swallowing down the growly tone. “What she said— whether meaning it or not— made you honestly question whether or not you’d get help and medical attention if you got hurt. You were learning to control your Quirk— a self-destructive Quirk that would result in self-inflicted injuries no matter what you did. She had no right to say that to you.”

“You said she wouldn’t get in trouble,” Midoriya whispers weakly, hand trembling under Shota’s own. The boy pulls away, and Shota follows suit; intent to keep the boy comfortable.

“She’s not,” Shota promises, “it’s illogical to punish one Recovery Girl for another’s screw up. Just like we won’t punish you for the shit Deku’s done. That doesn’t mean I’m not upset about this, Midoriya. That’s not right. It’s appalling, Kid. Tell me that your Aizawa knows about what she said to you. Tell me you told him— that someone said something to her. She can’t just say something like that; not to students who are learning.”

The boy’s silence is all the answer Shota needs. He slumps back in the chair like all the energy has suddenly been sapped out of his body bringing his hand up to his face to rub at dry eyes.

“At least tell me All Might said something? He was in the room with you, right?”

More ringing silence.

“I don’t blame her,” the boy offers instead after a long second, “she was right. I needed to find a way to keep fighting that wouldn’t hurt my arms— they couldn’t take any more damage and she was right; there will be a point when even Heal won’t help me. She was... giving me a hard truth. One I needed.”

“But you are scared to go to the infirmary even if you have an injury that needs proper treatment because of what she said to you,” Shota reads between the lines, already knowing the words to be true. Midoriya still looks away from him guiltily, like he’d been caught.

It’s likely Midoriya would’ve done exactly that today if Shota hadn’t of stepped in.

“How many times since she’d said that have you not gotten medical attention when you needed it?” He asks softly, “how many times have you patched yourself up because you were scared to see her? Does that not seem wrong to you, Kid?”

Midoriya keeps staring the other direction at the wall, chewing hard on his lip.

“Whether she meant to or not, what she said negatively affected the way you regard her as a Hero, and as the school’s nurse. It made you question her dependability when it comes to your injuries.” Shota is staring up at the ceiling now, head thrown back. He doesn’t look down, even when he feels the student’s gaze crawl back towards him. “She scared you; threatened you with something she had no right to withhold as this school’s only nurse—”

He sees Midoriya open his mouth, probably to defend the woman.

Another theme Shota’s noticed; the kid genuinely defending people who’ve harmed him.

He beats the kid to speaking, not finished yet, “—and I believe she didn’t mean anything by it, and I don’t doubt what she told you was truthful, there is a limit to her Quirk, but saying she wouldn’t heal you anymore? That’s not okay. Recovery Girl has a duty of care; that’s not something she can just say, no matter how upset she is.”

Shota does look down now, seeing the kid wilt as he stares down at his own lap. He’d pushed himself up at some point, now reclined back against the pillow and the wall, sitting with his legs crossed. His hands are tucked in the gap between his legs, bandaged hand settled delicately over the other.

“Is what she said really so bad...?” Midoriya finally asks, voice soft and thoughtful.

“I think it is,” Shota tells him honestly. “There are better ways to explain something like Quirk dependability to a first year. I get that she was upset that you’d gotten hurt to the point of needing surgery after the Festival, but she shouldn’t have said anything of the sort— especially not while you were still recovering from surgery.”

“It’s different for me though, Sensei,” the boy mutters quietly as he glares down at his lap.

“How so?” Shota narrows his eyes in challenge, “if you mean because you got your Quirk so late, that shouldn’t affect anything here. You would’ve been just as injured as a child if you’d manifested it when you were younger. You can’t control a Quirk you just got— that's simply not how it works. Recovery Girl has been a nurse at the school for over forty years; she knows that.”

“If I’d gotten my Quirk as a child, it would’ve blown my limbs off,” Midoriya tells him drily before tensing up. “A-at least, um, that’s what the doctors said would happen when-um-when it didn’t manifest when I was little. Be-because it’s, uh, r-really powerful and my body couldn’t, y-y'know, handle it?”

There’s something about that delivery that tells Shota the kid’s not being completely honest. Still, he can’t pry now; not into the kid’s Quirk. That’s been the one thing Shota hasn’t pushed on. Just from what the kid has let slip, Shota can tell he doesn’t like mentioning his Quirk, and he doesn’t want to do anything that could break the kid’s trust.

Plus, this isn’t technically his student, not in this reality at least.

He also has a... gut feeling that this has something to do with All Might. He’s been appearing a lot in this. In Midoriya’s world. It seems wherever the teenager is, the Number One Pro isn’t far behind.

It’s... actually fairly similar to Yagi and another student in this reality.

Huh.

A sharp inhale of breath draws in Shota’s attention. He jerks his attention from his thoughts and onto the kid. The boy is rubbing the heel of his palm against his temple, eyes squeezed shut as if in pain.

Wait, what just happened?

“What’s wrong, Problem Child?” Shota asks quietly, leaning closer. He sets a grounding hand on the kid’s knee, watching as Midoriya’s expression pinches with pain. Shota can feel the tension on the kid’s body just from the light pressure on his knee. His entire body is taut. “You okay? What hurts?”

“I don’t... know,” the kid whispers without opening his eyes, “it’s a really weird headache but, like, it’s only in one spot. It really hurts—like, sharp pain. It feels like... something’s wrong, but... I don’t know what. It’s just... I don’t know.”

“Is it familiar at all?” Shota questions cautiously, “did it happen when you got here? The headache? Maybe you’re finally going back to your reality?”

“No,” Midoriya blows out through his teeth, squinting one eye open. “It’s never happened before so I don’t... I don’t think so. Ouch. O-okay, it’s, um, it’s easing a little. That was weird.”

“And you don’t know what caused it?” Shota asks slowly, debating whether he should call for Recovery Girl. He doesn’t know how much help she would be though; she doesn’t know any more about reality hoping then the rest of them. “You did have that migraine when you first got here— was it similar to that?”

“Not really,” the teen shrugs, finally opening his eyes and letting his hand fall back into his lap. “I’ve never felt anything like that. But... I’ve also never come to another reality before. Maybe it’s... normal?”

“Maybe,” Shota offers unsurely, nose scrunching up. There’s just so many unknowns here— anything could be happening to Midoriya. They don’t know what effects this could have on his mind, or body—he’s essentially in a place he doesn’t belong. “You okay now? Is it gone?”

The kid gives a slow now, blinking in confusion, “yeah, it’s... it just sorta stopped suddenly. Came on suddenly and stopped suddenly. Weird.”

Shota does not like this new development. A sharp pain in the kid’s head that comes on suddenly and stops just as fast. That can’t be good. “You tell me if this happens again, alright?”

“Yeah,” the kid nods, “I will, Sensei.”

The door to the office opens, and Shota just knows that’s the end of the conversation. Midoriya doesn’t trust Recovery Girl and he can’t blame the kid for that.

“Feeling rested, Dearie?” Shūzenji asks kindly as she steps towards them. “I’m sure you’d like to get out of here; just take a couple of these nutrient gummies and I’ll release you into Aizawa-kun's care. I’ve got an appointment coming in and it’s a little sensitive.”

Izuku sticks close to Aizawa-Sensei as he’s led back to the dorms.

The man’s steps are quick, even as his shoulder slump. Izuku somehow manages to keep pace, even as he feels the strain of today’s battles and Recovery Girl’s Quirk effects settling in his bones.

He didn’t expect to be as tired as he is— he knows the burn was pretty bad and it had taken a lot of his stamina to heal up the worst of it, but he hadn’t been expecting to feel like he’d run a marathon. He’s always tired after a visit with Recovery Girl, but it feels a little excessive this time around.

Exhaustion that settles deep in his bones.

He wants to just change into the cozy pajamas his teachers had lent him and flop face first into the comfy bed that’s waiting for him in the guest room in Aizawa-Sensei's apartment.

His whole body aches, and his hand still feels like it’s on fire despite how much better it feels compared to when he’d first arrived at the infirmary.

Maybe he’ll ask Sensei for more ibuprofen when they’re upstairs.

His head still feels fuzzy— that post healing Quirk kind of cloudy— but he hasn’t felt that strange pulse of pain again. It really was the weirdest thing.

He still doesn’t know what that had been. It wasn’t anything like the migraine that had felt like his brain was imploding, and it’s like no other headache he’s had in his life. He really doesn’t think it has anything to do with being in another reality... but he doesn’t know what else it could be.

He’s never had a headache come on so fast and disappear as if it hadn’t even been there in the first place. A quick, pulsing sort of pain that’s there and then it’s just gone. He’s a little worried about it, honestly.

It could be nothing though.

That’s always a possibility, especially when it comes to him.

He shouldn’t get himself worked up over nothing when there’s so many explanations for the random stroke of pain. It’s just weird having no one to really talk to about stuff like this— not his Kacchan who knows about One for All, or All Might himself.

He’ll forever be grateful to Aizawa-Sensei for all his help in this reality, and his own Aizawa-Sensei who’d given him a chance even against his best judgement on the first day, but he also knows the man is clever. He thinks Aizawa-Sensei would be able to piece things together if Izuku threw him even just a little bit of line, which is why Izuku needs to be careful.

He hadn’t needed to rely on Aizawa-Sensei like he is now. He’d never gotten so close, but he’d been desperate, and he knew with his entire being that Aizawa-Sensei would help him. He’s always been reliable, and he really is an amazing Hero.

Maybe... he should let his teacher in more.

Could Sensei help him? With One for All and techniques? If Izuku had both All Might and Aizawa-Sensei in his corner, would he get better faster? Stronger faster? He really does need all the help he can get— as helpful as Gran Torino and All Might have been to him.

All Might had insisted it was a secret, and that Izuku should keep it as such, but Gran Torino knew about the Quirk without wielding it. He’d known Yagi-San's predecessor and had helped All Might greatly with the Quirk after his Master had died.

Other people can know...

It’s not like he wants to tell everyone. Just... Sensei. Izuku knows he’ll be able to help. If he can help him here in a world where Izuku is an enemy, he can help in a world where Izuku is his student.

Trust isn’t something that comes easily to Izuku—not with how he’d grown up. Being kind and forgiving has nothing to do with trust. He trusts so very few people in his life and Sensei is one of them.

Sensei has been one of them for a long time.

You can’t watch someone lay their own life on the line for yours and not trust them.

Besides, nothing bad has happened with Sensei knowing what he does about Izuku now— about Izuku being a late-bloomer and about the suppressed fear he’d been harboring of the infirmary. He knows about Kacchan, and had even given the other boy consequences for his actions.

He’d kept Izuku safe the entire time he’d been here and offered comfort when Izuku needed it and he’d been so amazing considering everything.

Izuku was a villain here, and Aizawa-Sensei was still putting trust into him. Keeping him safe. Teaching him and letting him be a part of his class even though Izuku isn’t a member of 1-A here.

Sensei had just accepted him so easily, and he hadn’t even made it weird.

He wonders if his own Aizawa-Sense would be as accepting if another Midoriya Izuku wound up in their reality, then decides that: yeah, he totally would.

“You okay, Problem Child?”

Izuku startles, jerking his attention up to where Sensei is stood on the steps outside of Heights Alliance. Izuku had stopped moving at the bottom of the step, lagging brain clearly not up to par with both thinking and walking up steps at the same time. He feels heat settle in his cheeks.

“I’m fine,” Izuku clears his throat, “um, just... just thinking.”

The man studies him thoughtfully, “how’s your head?”

“Good, I, uh, I mean, fine,” Izuku has never wanted more to face-palm for being awkward more than he does now. Why did he have to be like this when his Sensei is studying him? Why is that always the way? “It’s fine— no, um, no pain or anything. Or no weird pain. I-in my head, b-because um, my hand still really hurts. But you did say how’s your head, so, um... Good.”

His Sensei blinks twice before his expression softens. He gives a huff that sounds suspiciously like an exhale of laughter, “I think you should probably lie down for a bit.”

“Yeah,” Izuku agrees sheepishly, cheeks flushed in embarrassment, “I’m really tired.”

“I can tell,” the man gestures Izuku up the steps. “It’s been a long day.”

The teen quickly catches up with a tired nod, relaxing as Aizawa-Sensei's hand settles between his shoulder blades and guides him along like the man doesn’t trust him to keep himself up right.

Izuku doesn’t blame him.

They step through the doors together, and Izuku stumbles over slipping off his shoes. Sensei kicks off his own boots as well, waiting for Izuku to finish up arranging his footwear against the wall with the rest of the students.

The familiarity of it is like a breath of fresh air.

It looks right, even if it isn’t really right. Not exactly.

“Midoriya!” Izuku startles a second time, turning to where some of the students are sitting in the common area. It’s Kaminari who calls out to him, grinning widely from where he’s taking up one of the couches with Kacchan, Kirishima, Ashido, Sero and Jirou.

The other couch holds Uraraka, Asui and Hagakure.

“Hey, man,” Kaminari pushes himself up, bouncing towards where Izuku had frozen at Aizawa-Sensei's side, “we’ve been waiting for you to get back! You were with RG for ages, that must’ve been an awful injury! I mean, it looked pretty bad, and Todoroki’s fire was, like, completely unexpected! Caught everyone off guard.”

“Yeah!” Ashido agrees, “and your whole hand’s wrapped too! You okay, Midoriya?”

“Y-yeah,” Izuku clears his throat, glancing sheepishly back at the straight-faced teacher, “um, yes, I am. Recovery Girl healed the worst of it. It’s just... just wrapped to keep it clean, y’know?”

“I’m sorry again,” Todoroki’s voice startles Izuku a third time, and he really thinks the exhaustion is clouding his spatial awareness. He hadn’t even noticed anyone in the kitchen. Izuku turns to the direction of his friend’s voice, noticing Todoroki and Shinsou in the kitchen.

“No, um, don’t worry about it! Seriously, I... well, I was hoping you’d use your fire today anyways. If anything, it was my fault for not reading your body language. I probably could’ve avoided your attack if I was paying more attention—”

“It was an accident,” Aizawa-Sensei corrects easily, stuffing his hands into his pockets, “it was no one's fault. Injuries happen in physical combat; hence the need for a school nurse."

“R-right!” Izuku agrees hurriedly, “really, Todoroki-kun, no hard feelings. I know it was an accident, and I wouldn’t blame you for an accident either way. Besides, it was a really good fight! I’m surprised how well you used your fire after so long!”

“Yeah, me too!” Uraraka chimes, “it was so cool, Todoroki-kun! It’s amazing that you’re the only one who was able to beat Midoriya-kun today. All the fights were so fun to watch.”

“I trained exclusively with my fire as a child,” the dual-eyed teen informs drily as he moves to stand beside the couch, not adding anything more. Izuku doesn’t need to hear any more to know what he’s really saying. “I still need more practice.”

“I think we all do,” Shinsou mutters from the doorway, “Midoriya kicked all of our asses one after the next— I think there’s something we can all improve in. I need to work on hand-to-hand; if he can break out of my Quirk, who’s to say others can’t? If they do, I’m just a sitting duck, even with the capture weapon.”

“Yeah,” Kirishima nods, hardening up as if to add emphasis, “even with my Quirk Midoriya was able to get me out too. He’s crazy strong, my ribs are still a little sore from that manly punch. It was good practice though; villains will be strong too and I can’t just stand around using Hardening and expect to win.”

“Yep,” Ashido agrees sullenly, “we all have things to work on. Midoriya really pointed out our weaknesses, huh? I’m with Shinsou, I totally need to work on combat! More room to improve though!”

Izuku feels his cheeks heat up as most of the students look towards him.

He shuffles awkwardly, “I... just know how you guys are where I'm from. I know how to counter your Quirks and attacks from fighting them. Um, my 1-A class. I was only able to spot the weaknesses because you’re all... slightly different in my class. I’m not really sure how, but I know you can all catch up!”

“Is that a nice way to say he thinks we suck compared to his class?” Hagakure teases.

“No!” Izuku feels his soul leave his body as a couple of the students snicker, “really, it was just an observation! I’d never—”

“It’s probably you, Nerd,” Kacchan scoffs, cutting Izuku’s panicked attempt of digging himself out of the hole he’d found himself in off before they can really start, ignoring the invisible girl’s input, “what else is different between our realities? You. Plus, even after just one class with you, you’ve pointed out that we’re all useless against you. Your classmates are stronger than we are and we’re the same people. Use your head, Nerd.”

“I-I never said anyone was useless, Kacchan!” Izuku’s heart is absolutely racing. He’d never meant to offend them at all. Had they taken it that way? “You’re putting words into my mouth! There are differences—b-but that doesn’t mean you’re lesser to my class 1-A in any way! We all need to keep practicing if we want to be great Heroes!”

“Hey,” Kaminari pouts, “he’s right, man. We’re so not useless, Bakugou. Midoriya’s just super strong. And we getcha Mido, we’re just playin’. No one took offense, honestly, you helped us out here!”

“Says the one who took himself out thirty-seconds into his match,” Kacchan drawls with a huff. “And I said we’re all, as in everyone, meaning me as well. Not just you guys, Dunce Face. I know there’s shit I need to work on if he—” Kacchan gestures to Izuku with narrowed eyes, “—can beat me.”

“Hey!” Kaminari makes a wounded sound, drawing the word out dramatically. “You’re so mean, Bakugou! I miscalculated, alright? Math isn’t my subject. Besides, you guys are all lucky, I didn’t even really get to fight him, Bakugou’s right! It would’a been so cooool! You’ve got a seriously crazy Quirk, man, but can it hold up against electricity?”

“Not well,” Izuku admits sheepishly. “You all can give me a run for my money in my class... I just know you’re all capable of amazing things. So... please keep working hard.”

“You’re so nice, kero,” Asui mutters, still looking uncertain.

Izuku pauses, glancing over as uncertainty fills his own chest, “um... thank you?”

The frog-Quirked girl frowns thoughtfully, “I just... I saw you during the USJ attack. Deku, I mean. I saw your face with Shigaraki and those other villains... He... wasn’t nice. I saw what he and Shigaraki did to Sensei. I wasn’t sure about you before; you look just like him but... you’re nice. You’re really a Hero?”

“I’m trying to be,” Izuku assures with a tiny smile, “just like you guys. I really don’t know why Deku is what he is here... I always wanted to be a Hero, even when my Quirk never came in. I can’t imagine anything that would’ve stopped me... but something did stop him. I’m sorry I don’t know more.”

“Nah,” Kirishima waves Izuku off with a grin, “don’t worry about it. You’ve only been here for a couple days, right? Not really your problem to solve anyways. You don’t even have a Deku problem in your world, right?”

“I think I am the Deku problem over there,” Izuku snorts a laugh, ignoring the flurry of happy as his classmates offer light laughs and smiles. “I’m just chaotic good instead of chaotic evil.”

“That sounds about right,” Sensei huffs under his breath.

Izuku isn’t sure the rest of the class hears him, but it does have his lips twitching up in amusement.

“Hey, so if you’re really a Hero over where you’re from,” Izuku looks over to where Uraraka’s cocking her head in interest, “what’s your Hero name, Midoriya?”

“O-oh,” Izuku gives a nervous laugh, rubbing the back of his neck with his uninjured hand, “you, um, you guys aren’t gonna like it very much... It’s actually Deku as well.”

“It better fuckin’ not be!” Izuku blinks in Kacchan’s direction, surprised by the glare being shot in his direction. “You’d better be playing right now, Izuku, if you made your fucking Hero name Deku I’m going to actually punch you.”

“Bakubro!” Kirishima hisses, grabbing a fistful of Kacchan’s sweatshirt sleeve, “stop being so mean! Sensei is right behind him, and you’re already on house arrest!”

“I don’t care! He should stop being a fuckin’ idiot if he wants me to stop being mean!” the blonde roars, “you made your Hero name useless? What the fuck, Izuku? It’s bad enough the you of this reality chose that for his villain name— some villain origin story or some other stupid bullshit— don’t tell me you honestly named yourself Deku as a Hero.”

“Hang on,” Shinsou chimes in from the doorway, “what does Deku even mean?”

At this, Kacchan bites the inside of his cheek, pointedly looking away from everyone, especially Izuku.

The green-haired teen watches him in confusion until it hits him that Kacchan is ashamed. He’s guilty of coming up with the name. Izuku had never thought Kacchan might regret giving him the nickname; it had never even crossed his mind since his Kacchan hardly even talks to him.

“It was... just a childhood nickname,” Izuku offers quietly, half aware of the teacher watching them from just behind him. There’s no doubt Sensei isn’t taking this entire conversation in and picking it apart.

“Stop defending me,” Kacchan snarls, and Izuku stumbles back slightly in surprise. He bumps into Aizawa-Sensei but doesn’t dare look away from his childhood friend.

Kacchan leans forwards so he can address the whole room, drawing in everyone’s attention.

“I gave him the shitty nickname because I was an asshole when we were little. You can read the last part of the kanji in the name Izuku as Deku,” Kacchan says loudly, but not like he had when they were kids. There’s no malice or mocking lilt to his words. It’s simply an explanation; one Izuku doesn’t understand why Kacchan’s offering because he wouldn’t have told the students the origin of the name.

His own class doesn’t even know where Deku came from. Not really.

The ashen-haired teen pauses before looking down at his lap, “It doesn’t technically have a meaning— it was just a nickname. Until... I gave it a meaning. ’A helpless loser who’s completely useless.’ It’s not a nickname, it’s a taunt. It’s not a nice name, so I don’t know why you’d make it a Hero name.”

“Bakugou,” Uraraka frowns, “that’s horrible.”

“I know,” Kacchan sneers, even as he slumps into the couch cushions. “You don’t have to fuckin’ tell me. I was an asshole; I am an asshole. You’ve all got shitty nicknames, remember? He was just the first and it happened to stick. Apparently too well if you’re going by Deku as a Hero, you idiot.”

“I thought you only called us by those weird names because you didn’t remember our actual names,” Shinsou snorts from where he’s stood in the area between the kitchen and the living room area. Kacchan swirls around in his seat to shoot the tired teen a dark scowl.

“I didn’t know you remembered all that,” Izuku frowns, “what you said back then, I mean. We were very young; w-well, I knew you’d remember the nickname, of course, but... wow that’s almost exactly word for word, Kacchan.”

“’course I remember,” the teen huffs without looking over, “I haven’t stopped thinking about it since we found your shitty sneakers. I haven’t stopped thinking about any of it. Listen, I can’t say I never meant it because I did. I was a little bastard and I know I meant to hurt you, but I am sorry. You didn’t deserve it; any of it.”

The students look confused at Kacchan’s words, but after their talk that first day Izuku had met this Kacchan, he knows exactly what he’s talking about. Aizawa-Sensei must know too, because Izuku feels the man’s hand settle on the top of his head. He’s surprised by how much the hand just sat on the top of his head calms the rush of anxiety.

The man doesn’t say anything, but Izuku hears the silent question anyways.

He’s offering an excuse—authority in the situation. A way out without needing to explain anything to anyone else. Izuku appreciates it, but if Kacchan is comfortable enough to be having this conversation with 1-A around, he is too.

“I know,” Izuku tells his childhood friend. “You were an asshole, but I’ve forgiven you. Both of you; you and my Kacchan. You should be held accountable for what you did to me and for everything you’ve said over the years, and you are, but it shouldn’t affect how your friends and classmates view you. You’re different now.”

“Okay, fine, Nerd,” Kacchan narrows his eyes, “but Deku? Seriously? That’s really the name you’re going to go Pro with? I don’t understand you. Why Deku?”

“It’s grown on me,” Izuku smiles lightly, “it’s not a bad thing anymore. Not since I met you all—er, my class 1-A at least. It’s not a mean name anymore it’s... it’s the name of a Hero. Everything I want to and will be. A reminder, I guess, of what I was and what I'll become if I keep working hard.”

“I hate it,” Kacchan glares hard, but Izuku just smiles.

“I did too,” he agrees with a laugh, “but it also shows how much you’ve grown too, Kacchan. The fact that you do hate it now. You gave it to me when I was Quirkless and weak, but I’ll make it into something strong, okay?”

“I’m not going to call you Deku,” Kacchan snaps as he laces his arms over his chest tightly, “never again. It’s a fucked-up name, and you’re a damn idiot for choosing something like that as a Hero name. I don’t care what you fuckin’ tell yourself to make it feel alright; I won’t do it.”

“Okay,” Izuku offers another smile, this one softer. He honestly doesn’t mind what Kacchan calls him, so long as his tone isn’t cruel.

It’s weird seeing Kacchan so hellbent on not calling him Deku when for ten years of his life, it’s the only name the ashen-haired boy seemed to remember. His own Kacchan still calls him Deku more than anything, but to be fair, it is his Hero name now.

Still, Deku isn’t what it had been when they were children anymore— not even to Kacchan.

Izuku glances over to where Kacchan is stewing, glaring straight ahead of him. It’s nice that Kacchan is different here. He thinks this reality’s Midoriya’s faked suicide hit his childhood friend more than he’s really letting on. Taught him a gruesome lesson; one Kacchan likely won’t forget.

Izuku has been watching the interactions this Kacchan has— how he treats and talks to his peers nicer. Calmer, yet still in such a Kacchan sort of way. Even how he’s putting himself on the same level as them in a way that his own Kacchan probably never would.

Kacchan really has grown up a lot here.

Maybe there’s still hope for his own Bakugou Katsuki back in his reality to come to a point like this.

Not that Kacchan is ever overly cruel anymore. Izuku still considers him a friend... well, sorta. Kacchan does know the most about him of anyone else— One for All and All Might stuff included— and Izuku likes to believe the feeling is mutual between them.

“Alright, alright,” Izuku hears Sensei’s voice as the man’s hand ruffles faintly in his hair, wiggling Izuku’s head lightly as he goes. “That’s enough excitement for one night. Midoriya needs to rest, and you all should be thinking about what you’re doing for dinner. It’s getting late.”

“That’s what we were doing,” Shinsou crosses his arms over his chest, “It’s Todoroki and I’s turn to cook, you two just distracted us. How’re we supposed to focus when Midoriya has Kacchan all soft and apologetic? Everyone stops to ogle a miracle, Sensei.”

“I’ll blow your fuckin’ ass up if you call me Kacchan one more time Eyebags—”

“Enough. Both of you, knock it off. Now, do I need to get the fire extinguisher?” Aizawa-Sensei retorts plainly. “The two of you better not be leaving the stovetop on without watching it, I don’t care what’s going on around you— we've all seen the dangers of fire.”

Izuku can’t help but feel like that’s directed at him. Rude.

“It’s cold soba,” Todoroki offers as he moves to join Shinsou in the kitchen again. Leaning over to look at the giant pot simmering on the stovetop. “We’re only boiling water to cook the noodles. I doubt it’ll burn or catch on fire. Will you and Midoriya be joining us, Sensei?”

“No,” Aizawa-Sensei shakes his head, tucking one hand into his pocket while the other, that had been on Izuku’s head, drops to the teen’s shoulder. “We’ll be alright, thanks. You students take care of yourselves and enjoy your dinner. I’ll be upstairs if you need me, but no visits tonight unless you need me. Midoriya should rest after his time with Recovery Girl— you'll see him tomorrow. Got it?”

The students in the room repeat a low, almost monotone ‘Got it.’ back to Aizawa-Sensei.

Izuku hears the amused inhale from the man behind him,

“Good,” Sensei says with a bored tone as he leads Izuku towards the elevator, “let’s go, Problem Child. Remember, I’ll be back down for curfew patrol as usual; please be in your rooms by ten.”

Izuku hears more murmurs in response to Aizawa-Sensei even as he’s guided into the waiting elevator. The doors shut behind them and Izuku slumps his shoulder in a mix of relief and exhaustion now that he doesn’t need to be peppy and cheerful for 1-A.

He’s trying hard to be the exact opposite of what they know Deku to be.

He doesn’t mind letting the act fall with Sensei— he’s comfortable with the man.

Besides, Sensei had seen him crumpled over at his dining table with a migraine, and also when he’d been chained to a police interrogation table bawling his eyes out. He’s seen Izuku in worse positions than exhausted.

“They can be a lot,” Sensei mutters quietly, yet hinting towards fondness. “I’m sure your class is no different though. I’m sorry that you’re the subject of their interest instead of a part of it. That must be hard for you. They’re starting to differentiate you and Deku, that’s good. I’m sure even when you return to your reality, these students won’t forget what you’re doing for them.”

“I’m just trying to be their friend,” Izuku looks towards the man with tired eyes, “I want them to be the best they can no matter where they are. And... and I want to be their friend here too— I'm not sure if that’s selfish though. I’m not a part of this— these aren’t my friends. Not really.”

“It’s human,” Sensei tells him patiently. “You’re in a tough position, and even if they’re not exactly who you know, they are the exact same people. There’s nothing selfish about wanting the people you view as your close friends to look at you in the same regard. There’s nothing wrong with seeking comfort in familiarity.”

Izuku doesn’t know how Sensei knows exactly what to say to make things feel okay. His own Sensei has the talent of being able to say exactly what they need to hear as well.

It must be a universal Aizawa-Sensei trait.

The elevator dings, and Izuku finds himself being ushered towards the apartment door. Sensei pauses just to unlock the apartment door before continuing to usher Izuku in.

“Hizashi is grabbing sushi for dinner tonight on his way home from the radio station, so I hope you’re not allergic.” Izuku shakes his head in response. “Good. He’ll be home any time now. Why don’t you go get changed out of your gym clothes. If you want to shower, we can wrap your hand in a plastic bag so the bandages don’t get wet; you’ll still need to be careful though.”

“I’m too tired to shower,” Izuku yawns, dragging his uninjured fingers through his curls. It’s not really greasy, just a little dirty from those battles. And he thinks if anything, he probably smells like sterile which is a little uncomfortable but not the worst. “I’ve been looking forward to pajamas though. And going to sleep. I’m drained.”

The man scrunches his nose up, “try not to fall asleep until you’ve eaten something. Especially after spending the afternoon with Recovery Girl in the infirmary, you’ll need nutrients. Would you like something now so you can go to sleep?”

“I can wait,” Izuku decides with a light smile, “I like sushi.”

Sensei offers his own light smile, “if you’re sure, Problem Child.”

Izuku gives a nod, shuffling towards where he knows the guest room to be. He pauses in the doorway, turning back to his teacher, “u-um, Sensei?”

Aizawa-Sensei pauses as well where he’d been on his way into the kitchen. The man turns towards Izuku, cocking an eyebrow in silent question.

“I... um, I was wondering if there was anything I could take for my hand? It... what Recovery Girl gave me is starting to wear off and it sorta hurts...”

“And by ‘sorta’ you really mean that it hurts bad enough for you to actually ask for something to help with the pain,” the man snorts as he lets a tiny, crooked, almost knowing, smile curl onto his lips. “Of course, Problem Child. We’ve got more ibuprofen somewhere around here. Why don’t you go get changed while I find it?"

“Thank you, Sensei,” Izuku breathes out, bowing his head gratefully.

“You’re welcome.”

Chapter Text

Friday, Alternate Reality

The following morning, Midoriya is not awake when Shota stumbles out of his bedroom.

He must’ve crashed hard after finally giving into the lingering exhaustion from the afternoon of battles and his evening with Recovery Girl and her Quirk. It would’ve taken a toll on anyone, so it’s not surprising it completely wiped Midoriya out.

Honestly, Shota would be concerned if the kid was showing no signs of exhaustion after all the energy and stamina he’d used. The kid has endurance, sure, but there’s just no way he wouldn’t be affected by not just a tiring afternoon, but Recovery Girl literally burning through his stamina as well. The kid can put on a good show, but exhaustion sneaks up on everyone at some point.

He can’t say he blames the kid for succumbing to the exhaustion and crashing hard, but he won’t deny the fact that a small part of him was expecting to find Midoriya in the kitchen waiting to go on a morning run that Shota know he would’ve begrudgingly agreed to join him on just to give the kid a sense of normalcy.

He’s glad the kid had listened to his own body, and that he’d allowed himself to sleep off the exhaustion. With any luck the kid’s sleeping off some of the stress he’s under too.

Still, despite having expected to find Midoriya waiting, he’s much more content to plop down at the dining table and sip at his piping hot coffee.

He doesn’t find Midoriya in the kitchen, but he does find Hizashi, who he barely remembers leaving their bed that morning. Hizashi is an early bird, and always has been— hence why the man had opted for an early morning patrol route to balance out his day of teaching and his nights at the radio station.

Shota doesn’t know how he manages three jobs, when Shota himself can barely keep it together with his two jobs. If either of them has the personality for it though, it’s definitely Hizashi.

The blonde is already working away in the kitchen when Shota stumbles into the room, beelining for the coffee pot. The pot is full of freshly brewed coffee, and Shota relishes in the warmth as he sips at his mug just stood by the pot.

His husband greets him cheerily when he feels the presence of another person, not taking offense to the grunt Shota offers in return as he refills his cup before finally turning to settle at the dining table.

He’s not a morning person in the slightest, and he honestly doesn’t know how he managed to snag one of the peppiest morning people he’s ever met as a husband. Opposites attract or however that saying goes.

Hizashi is working on a hearty breakfast, no doubt trying to provide the kid still asleep in their guest room with protein and nutrition to aid in his healing— there's miso soup simmering on the stovetop, the rice cooker is already running, and he’s standing at the stove grilling salmon.

They don’t often have a more traditional breakfast— Hizashi loves Americanized things, meals being one of the main things he adores of the foreign culture, and Shota naturally isn’t one for settling at the table and spending time eating when a jelly pouch offers the same nutrients in a shorter amount of time.

Still, if they are doing an actual breakfast, Shota does tend to prefer something more traditional as opposed to pancakes or something of the like.

Too sweet for him personally, but Hizashi always seems to love eating sweets. Ironic considering he scolds Shota for the jelly pouches but will eat American style breakfast that has the same amount of sugar as a literal cake. Maybe that’s why Shota never really takes the scolding to heart.

Shota listens to his husband move around their small apartment kitchen— the sizzling of grilling fish and Hizashi’s light hums— as he tries to wake himself up. He already knows it’s going to be a long day, so he’s taking the quiet in stride.

Since he hasn’t seen Midoriya yet, Shota assumes the kid’s still asleep.

He’ll need to wake him up soon so he has time to eat, and they can change his bandaging before classes. Shota will also assess if the kid’s better off staying home from school, which he’ll need to arrange a sub to fill in for him, or if he’s okay to go to classes with Shota.

He’s sure Midoriya won’t want to miss anything, he’s only known the kid for a couple days, but he knows that much already. Still, Shota knows that using Recovery Girl’s Quirk exceedingly wears the body down, no matter your mentality about it. Sometimes the only thing you can do is sleep it off, so if the kid’s visibly exhausted, it would be cruel to drag him around the school, even if that’s what he wants.

Afterall, Midoriya is already on edge, and needs to be considering his situation, so if his awareness isn’t up to par, he shouldn’t be put in a situation where there’s a chance he could be in danger. There haven’t been any major problems yet, but that doesn’t mean something can’t go wrong at any point.

Midoriya probably won’t want to sit out, but Shota’s not above using his authority when it comes to the wellbeing of his students. If he deems the kid unfit for the day, there’s nothing Midoriya can do about it. It wouldn’t be the first time Shota’s ignored bemoaning teenagers.

“We’re almost ready to eat,” Hizashi chimes brightly, forcing Shota from his thoughts, “you wanna go wake the Lil’ Listener while I plate this stuff up? Time’s a’tickin’!”

Shota nods wordlessly, taking another sip of his coffee before pushing himself up and stretching out his back. It’s only a couple strides to find himself stood outside the guest room. He doesn’t hear any movement inside, but still raps his knuckles lightly against the door as a warning.

He doesn’t get any sort of response, so he settles his hand on the handle and slowly opens the door.

The door pushes open easily, and he’s not surprised to find the green-haired teenager curled into the blankets, sound asleep. He can just faintly see Midoriya’s face where it peeks out from the covers, green curls mussed and sticking to his face. The boy blows out slow, even breaths. He looks so small and innocent sleeping, and for some reason, he can’t help but wonder about if Deku looks like this too when he’s asleep.

He’s not sure why the thought makes him uneasy.

He pushes the door open enough to be able to stand fully in the threshold, leaning a shoulder against the doorframe. “Midoriya,” he calls softly, but loud enough that the kid shifts under the covers, “up and at ’em, Problem Child. Breakfast is ready, and you need to eat. We also need to change your bandages.”

“Sensei?” the boy slurs sleepily as he jolts up to a sitting position. “What time’s’it?”

“Seven,” Shota offers, “we let you sleep in a bit after the day you had yesterday. How are you feeling?”

“I slept in late,” the teen yawns, stretching. He blinks tired eyes before perking up, “o-oh, um, I’m okay. I... f-feel better. Um, still sore, b-but, better. I take it that... t-there’s no time for a run this morning?”

“No strenuous activity,” Shota reminds lightly, “Recovery Girl’s orders.”

The fact the kid did sleep in against his biological clock means that he’s more tired than usual. His body is trying to heal, even though his stamina is low after the healing session. It’s just proof that yesterday did affect him more than he let on, which is a bit worrying.

Had the teen been up and waiting to go out and exercise this morning, Shota would’ve gone with him on the run despite Recovery Girl’s warning. That’s not the case.

“You need to rest. Your injury yesterday was serious, and it took a lot out of you to get it healed to this point. The more rest you get, the easier your body will heal. And I know Recovery Girl wants to see you again this afternoon to check in, and she might want to do another healing session depending on what she sees,” Shota studies the teen, as he speaks, “just... try not to overexert yourself today, alright?”

“Right,” the boy mumbles, looking down at his bandaged hand. “Yeah, um, okay. I understand.”

Shota studies the teen for a moment before letting his shoulders slump, “are you up for school today?”

The teen looks over at him wide-eyed, surprised, before he’s nodding his head frantically, “y-yes! I’m fine, I mean, I can go to classes. I shouldn’t miss classes over something like this!”

“There’s nothing wrong with taking a day to recover after a serious injury,” Shota chides calmly, “come have some breakfast and we’ll talk. And I’ll redo your dressings; but if there’s any sign of infection, you’re going straight to Recovery Girl and missing class. No argument.”

“Of course,” the teen nods with a light smile, “I’ll just... um, get dressed. I’ll only be a second!”

Midoriya throws the covers off himself and leaps from the bed hurriedly.

Shota blows out an amused breath as he pulls the door closed behind himself and returns to the kitchen. The table is set with bowls of rice and miso soup, a tray of grilled salmon in the center of the table for people to take as they please.

“Is the Lil’ Listener okay?” Hizashi asks as Shota retakes his seat. The blonde glances back over his shoulder where he’s currently steeping what smells to be green tea at the counter. He turns back to the pot, placing the lid and picking it up to set on the table.

Shota cocks an eyebrow at the teapot, knowing that Hizashi usually only make a mug of tea in the morning for himself. Shota is an avid coffee drinker in the morning, so unless he asks for tea as well, it’s a waste to make up a pot.

He doesn’t know if Midoriya likes green tea, but it can’t hurt to have at the table for the kid to help himself too if he wants. It’ll probably go over better than having the kid pick something to drink— there's no doubt he’ll choose the safest option, which in this case would be tea being offered.

“As okay as Midoriya can be, I think,” Shota drawls fondly, “he’ll be right out.”

The boy appears just a few minutes later, once again donning the Yuuei school uniform. The tie is a crumpled mess, worse than the poorly tied tie from the day before, but Shota’s not about to call a kid who isn’t even technically his student out for dress code.

It’s all there, who cares if it’s not done up right? The fact that he’s putting in the effort when he really doesn’t have to speaks volumes of his character. Shota has not a single doubt that this teenager is a student at this very school in another reality. Not that he had any doubts before.

“Sorry,” Midoriya winces when he notices Shota’s gaze, “it... um, my tie isn’t usually this messed up, but I couldn’t get the knots right with my, um, m-my hand wrapped up. Hurt when I tried to bend it and... well, my fingers aren’t exactly accessible...”

“Don’t worry about it,” Shota shrugs, “you’re wearing it, that’s all that matters to me.”

“That’s no problem, Lil’ Listener!” Hizashi grins, “I can give you a hand with it after breakfast. Heroics is really all about impressions— a nicely tied tie will do wonders!”

“I-if you don’t mind, Sensei?” Midoriya offers a sheepish smile as he slips slowly into the last chair. “I’d really appreciate it! I can never get it quite right. My Senseis don’t say anything about it, so I suppose it’s close enough to not really be a problem, but I know it’s not right because it doesn’t look like anyone else’s when I’m done.”

Breakfast is a quiet affair.

Shota spends most of it studying Midoriya, who’d been quickly absorbed in a conversation about Put Your Hands Up radio. Hizashi is thrilled to have a willing participant considering its generally Shota who’s on the receiving end of Hizashi’s big plans and upcoming events. Midoriya is entirely to happy to listen, ask questions and even quietly offer his own opinions that Hizashi takes enthusiastically.

Honestly, if Shota couldn’t see the remnants of the injury still neatly wrapped, he’d never be able to tell the kid had gotten as hurt as he had, nor that he’d spent the evening under the effects of a powerful healing Quirk.

Midoriya is bright and alert as he chats with Hizashi. He still looks tired, expertly hidden behind those bright and interested eyes in a way most teenagers aren’t capable of, but besides that, Shota doesn’t spot any reason to keep the kid home from school.

The breakfast Hizashi had made is delicious and is quickly finished off between the three of them. Midoriya struggles a bit with using his nondominant hand to handle his chopsticks and ends up sloshing miso soup on his bandages when he tries to cup the bowl between his hands.

The teen winces, but Shota knows the miso soup has been sitting long enough that it’s barely warm anymore. It’s unlikely it would’ve hurt him, though the damp bandages might be a bit uncomfortable against the healing skin.

“Good thing we were already planning to change those,” Shota huffs out before the teen can spiral. He easily scoops up a bite of rice in a show that the spilt soup isn’t a big deal. Midoriya’s tense shoulders relax slightly at Shota’s efforts. “Doesn’t hurt, right?”

“No,” Midoriya sheepishly shakes his head. He visibly relaxes, sipping at his bowl again, this time a bit slower. “I’m okay, I guess I really do need to change it now. I don’t think Recovery Girl would be happy to see miso soup in my burn. Probably not very sanitary.”

“Probably not,” Hizashi laughs loudly, “she’s a little persnickety about stuff like that, isn’t she?”

Midoriya chuckles at that, nodding in agreement. Shota nods too, but he’s just glad the kid didn’t have enough time to spiral. It was an accident, and there really was a plan to refresh the bandages before the day.

They finish up breakfast quickly after that, and there’s still time to spare. Shota ushers Midoriya into the living room, while Hizashi disappears into the bathroom to grab their first aid kit.

Midoriya sits himself down on the couch while Shota perches himself on the coffee table in front of the kid. Midoriya dutifully holds his hand out without Shota needing to prompt him. The man quirks a smile as he gently takes the boy’s bandaged hand into his own hands, carefully unwrapping the slightly damp cotton wrapping.

The burn looks a lot better than it had. It’s even healed a little bit more overnight, which is amazing news. It’s still raw and an irritated red, but it looks better. The edges of the burn aren’t warm to the touch at all either, which means there’s no infection as far as Shota can tell. It looks really good considering it’s only had one healing session.

“Does it look any better?” Midoriya asks lightly, his own eyes flicking over his injury. “It feels better.”

“It does,” the man nods, not tearing his gaze away from the injury. “I’m not a medical professional though, of course. I don’t see any signs of infection, which is good. That was our main worry. Recovery Girl will decide what to do with it this afternoon. For now, we’ll just rewrap it.”

Shota lifts his eyes, nodding to himself when Midoriya nods his consent.

The underground Hero dutifully wraps up the teen’s injury once again. Midoriya sits completely still, letting Shota work. Finally, when Shota’s happy with his work, he puts the supplies he hadn’t ended up using back in the first aid kit.

“Feel alright?” Shota asks, thumbing over the pads of Midoriya’s fingertips to check the blood flow. It looks alright. “Not too tight?”

“No, it’s good,” the boy flexes his fingers, offering an easy smile, “thank you, Sensei.”

It’s then that Hizashi returns from the kitchen, wiping wet hands on his white button up shirt. At least that means Hizashi had distracted himself with tidying the kitchen. Shota rolls his eyes at the blonde’s sheepish smile when he catches Shota watching as he stands, grabbing the first aid kit to return.

Hizashi is quick to take Shota’s spot on the coffee table, animatedly telling Midoriya how to tie the tie he’s easily knotting up around Midoriya’s neck. Midoriya watches intently, chin tucked against his clavicle as his eyes follow Hizashi’s wildly moving fingers.

He’ll leave them to it.

When the first aid kit is returned to its spot, ready for the next time either of them come home from patrol injured, Shota makes a quick detour into their bedroom where he grabs the wallet Hizashi had bought for Midoriya after his patrol yesterday morning. Already tucked inside it is the boy’s school ID card from his own reality, a couple hundred yen for emergencies and a small, neatly folded letter addressed to one Aizawa Shota.

He leaves the room and beelines for the teen, managing to catch the boy just as Hizashi is leaning away from him, a neatly tied tie resting against the teen’s chest.

“Midoriya,” Shota calls his attention. The boy snaps his gaze up to the underground Hero, blinking wide-eyed, “here.”

Midoriya takes the proffered item hesitantly, only looking at it when it’s in his own hands. He stares at it for a good second before looking back up at Shota.

“This isn’t mine,” the boy tells him, confusion bright in his eyes as he tries to hand the wallet back.

“It is now,” Shota tells him easily. “We got it for you. It’s got your ID card in it for safekeeping. There’s also a very important document that I want you to deliver to your Aizawa, alright? Due to the nature of the Quirk you’re under, we can’t know when you’ll go back to your reality. This is a failsafe, so you have everything you came with that you’ll need when you return. Please keep the wallet on you at all times.”

Midoriya stares at the wallet for a long second before looking up at Shota with an accusatory glance, “the document... it’s not something mean towards my Aizawa-Sensei, is it?”

Hizashi, the asshole that he is, snorts a choking laugh into his fist.

“No,” Shota sighs, glaring at his husband who’s trying (and failing) to bite back his laughter, “it’s just a letter. It’s logical. I know if one of my students was sent to another reality somewhere, I’d want to know someone was taking care of them. It’s a report. He won’t think it’s mean, I promise.”

Midoriya mulls the response over for a second before nodding. He slips the wallet into the pocket of his slacks with his good hand, “thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” Shota replies easily. “Hizashi is the one who picked it out though, so you should thank him instead.”

At that, the teen promptly turns to where Hizashi is still seated on the edge of the table, bowing his head gratefully, “thank you, Mic-Sensei.”

“You’re welcome!” Hizashi grins, reaching a hand out to ruffle the curls on Midoriya’s still bowed head, “anything for my favorite reality jumper!”

Shota bites back a smile as he turns away from the scene, “we need to head out, classes will be starting soon.”

“R-right!” Midoriya yelps, launching up from the couch. Hizashi laughs openly as the boy all but trips over his own feet in his rush, pushing himself up too, but with a lot less enthusiasm.

Going to the restroom had seemed like a harmless task.

It was lunch hour, and he’d just had lunch with Aizawa-Sensei. The man was hunkered down over his desk, obviously working on something important. His expression was drawn in concentration, and Izuku feels bad even distracting the man long enough to tell him he’s stepping out to use the restroom.

Sensei had dragged his attention away from his work and onto Izuku, who’d been stood by the corner of the man’s desk, waiting for permission to leave the room.

Sensei had moved to push himself up, ready to accompany Izuku for safety's sake, which Izuku appreciates, honestly, but he also doesn’t think he needs a chaperon to accompany him to the restroom.

“You’re busy,” had been the teen’s defense.

And it was true.

Sensei’s got so little time to himself, and Izuku could see what he was working on was important just by how enrapt his teacher’s focus was on it. He feels bad about taking up so much of Sensei’s time, his personal time included. Izuku is always there now—in his classroom, in his free time after school, hell, he’s even in his apartment at night.

He didn’t ask to all but adopt an alternate universe’s teenager, but here he is taking care of Izuku. Aizawa-Sensei really had drawn the short straw, but Izuku knows he wouldn’t be as comfortable anywhere else but with his Sensei.

No one else had offered to lay their life on the line to protect him in the way Sensei had. All those times Sensei had come to their rescue—had put them first above himself. He was the kind of teacher Izuku always wished he’d had growing him.

It’s one of the main reasons why Izuku had been seeking his teacher out when he’d first woken up here and knew something was off.

Still, the man studies Izuku, hesitating as he looks between the kid and the door.

“I do go to this school,” Izuku reminds quietly, even though he knows that’s not why his Sensei is hesitating, “I can find my way there and back. It won’t take long. You’re working; and I know lunch period is when you like to get stuff done. You’ve told me when I asked to stay in the classroom over lunch a while back. It’s just the restroom...”

“Are you sure?” Aizawa-Sensei asks easily, hands easing off the edge of his desk as he regards Izuku with a studying glance, “I don’t mind taking a break. Your safety is more important than my paperwork.”

“I’m sure,” Izuku assures, “really, I’ll be okay. I know my way around, and most of the students will be in the cafeteria so I shouldn’t run into any problems. You shouldn’t have to keep stopping what you’re doing for my sake— especially not for something as silly as a bathroom break. I’m very thankful for everything you’re doing to protect me, but I’m not a child, Sensei.”

“Okay,” Sensei finally nods, picking his pen back up but not looking away from Izuku yet, “you’re right. You’re a fully capable teenager but... it’s not you that I don’t trust. You do make logical points though. How about this, you go alone, but if you’re not back in fifteen minutes I’m going to assume the worst and come find you, deal?”

Reasonable considering everything.

“Deal,” Izuku smiles. “Thank you, Sensei.”

The man simply waves him off as he finally drops his attention back down to his papers, pen scratching along the papers once more. Izuku takes that as his dismissal, turning away from the man and slipping out the classroom door.

The halls are almost entirely empty— they're only halfway through lunch break so Izuku knows most of the students are in fact in the cafeteria. It’s not unusual to see the halls barren during their breaks. Everyone’s in the cafeteria, and those who aren’t are usually outside getting some fresh air, training in one of the gyms or studying in the library or their classrooms.

Still, Izuku moves quickly through the halls.

He’s glad to get a second to himself in school, a bit of normalcy, but he does know the potential danger he very well could end up in if the wrong student happens across him.

Probably best to get in and get out.

Besides, he’s on a time limit and he knows he’ll be embarrassed if his teacher has to pull himself away from his work to come find him. The last thing he wants to do is bother Sensei anymore then he already needs to.

He gets to the restroom the fastest he’s sure he ever has before; that lingering fear in the back of his mind that despite how familiar this all feels, it’s not where he belongs. It’s not where he’s exactly safe.

Izuku’s washing his hands, awkwardly without getting the new bandages on his dominant hand wet, when the door opens.

Izuku startles, feeling his muscles tense up in fear as he stares wide eyed at himself in the mirror. For a long second, he can’t force himself to move— a fear response, he’s sure. He’s still so long the water running over his still soapy hand shuts off.

He feels like prey all of the sudden. Maybe he should’ve asked Aizawa-Sensei to wait outside for him again like he had when Izuku had changed into the school uniform that first day. He doesn’t even know who’s here; can’t force himself to glance over. He simply stares into his own eyes through the mirror and remains still.

“Hey, are you alright?”

Izuku blinks, finally forcing his eyes away from his own reflection.

He... knows that voice.

When he finally looks towards the door, he feels a flicker of relief when he catches sight of Togata-Senpai. He’d only just met Togata in his own reality, but the man was incredibly friendly. Izuku had been surprised how amazing Togata-Senpai was when they’d all tried to beat him during class. He’s crazy cool, and his Quirk—amazing! Not to mention how kind he’d been to them before he managed to take out their whole class and after as well.

“Uhm?” Togata cocks his head, “you are okay, aren’t you?”

“O-Oh!” Izuku wheezes in a breath, nodding hurriedly, “I-I am! I’m sorry, just—I, ah, I wasn’t expecting to see anyone in here which... well, which is dumb because it’s a public restroom, right? It’s silly to think I wouldn’t run into anyone. You just... um, you startled me. A bit. N-not that you’re scary or anything, Togata-Senpai, just—”

“No, no, don’t worry about it!” The blonde lets out a kind laugh, rubbing at the back of his neck as he smiles sheepishly, “I totally startled you; I mean, I could see you were a bit distracted, so I should’ve anticipated that saying something to you may startle you out of your thoughts. You just looked a little nervous is all, so I wanted to make sure you were all good! I want to help if I can, y’know?”

“I am!” Izuku promises, finally lifting a soapy hand to turn the faucet back on. He’s quick to rinse the remainder of the suds off his hands, turning back to look at Togata-Senpai completely. He doesn’t look any different, not that Izuku was expecting anything. “Um, thank you. I’m fine. I was just thinking, I suppose.”

The man offers another smile as he steps further into the men’s washroom. Izuku can’t help but push back against the edge of the counter. He knows Togata-Senpai is a good guy, but this is not his Togata-Senpai. And he’s seen what Togata can do. He hadn’t been a match against Togata even when he’d been using One for All during class, so he won’t be a match against him here either— and it would be serious here; an actual fight instead of a training exercise.

“Are you sure you’re alright?”

Izuku startles out of his thoughts, nodding hurriedly as he jerks his attention to the blonde, who’d apparently moved further into the restroom when he hadn’t been paying attention and was now coming to join Izuku at the sink. Wait, how long had he been lost in his own thoughts?

Despite Izuku’s nod, the blonde doesn’t really look convinced. He knows he probably looks spooked, because he is, which probably isn’t helping him assure Togata that he’s alright.

He’s on edge and he can’t seem to settle the feeling down.

Izuku knows at this point he could turn on his heels and leave; Aizawa-Sensei is probably counting down the minutes and if he’s been spacing out like he thinks he had been, his time limit is probably drawing near. He could leave, but wouldn’t it be awkward?

It’s literally the furthest thing from being cornered in a restroom, but he still can’t help but feel like he is cornered. Togata isn’t even very close to him, and there’s no hostility in his body language or his tone. Izuku’s head is just messing with him.

Still, he can’t seem to force his feet into action as Togata settles at the sink beside Izuku, lathering his hands with soap. He doesn’t need to turn to see Togata’s eyes on him through the mirror.

“I’ve never seen you around,” Togata says finally, and when Izuku finally finds the gull to look over, the older boy is actually looking at him as well. Togata cocks his head to the side, studying Izuku up and down. “Are you new here? I didn’t hear anything about a new student starting in the middle of the years or anything...”

Togata finishes washing his hands, swiftly moving to the paper towel dispensers, where he quickly dries up his wet hands, eyes never leaving Izuku’s frame. Izuku remains still as the upperclassman studies him. He wishes Sensei would come looking for him.

He wishes he had the confidence to leave Togata and the restroom without a word of explanation. That feels rude though, especially since Togata has been nothing but kind to him thus far.

Finally, the older boy smiles, snapping his fingers as if he’d solved a puzzle. “Hang on, you must be Midoriya!" he grins, "Aizawa-Sensei's personal student, right?”

“Ah,” Izuku nods slowly, forcing his head to move slowly, “I am...”

“That’s awesome,” Togata grins widely, “I’ve been wanting to meet you! I’d never heard of him taking on a personal student on, so you must be really amazing if you’ve managed to win Aizawa-Sensei over. He can be a tough nut to crack; always takes a while to convince him of your potential. He’s a really great teacher though, I’ve had a couple of his classes over the years. You’ve really been the talk of the school, y’know? So, are you joining 1-A then?”

“It’s... um, it’s more a temporary thing,” Izuku manages out. “I’m not staying. Not permanently.” I hope.

“Temporary?” Togata hums out, leaning against the sink thoughtfully, “are you like an exchange student then?”

“Sorta?” Izuku cocks his owns head, turning the excuse over in his mind a couple times. “I’m really not from around here, but... I am a Heroics student from... a-another school. Sensei’s taken me in for the time being so that’s why I’m shadowing him around school. I’ve known him for quite a while now so...”

“Huh,” Togata nods, “that’s still cool. I don’t think I’ve heard of Yuuei hosting exchange students. Must be something sensitive though if there wasn’t an assembly or even an announcement or something to introduce you. It’s super great to finally meet you though, I’ve only heard whispers about you from the other students. Everyone’s been talking about you.”

“Oh,” Izuku breathes out, glancing away nervously. Everyone was talking about him? He knew it was going to happen, it would be stupid to think he could remain entirely anonymous in a Hero school, but its terrifying to hear it from a student who probably heard the rumors. “W-what kind of whispers?”

Togata cocks his head to the side, studying Izuku thoughtfully once more, “I’m not really sure. Nothing bad, I mean, that I've heard at least. Just your name, I think? I don’t pay much attention to rumors and gossip, that’s more Hado-chan’s forte. No one really knows why you’re here, just that you’re here. And it’s not really any of our business anyways, right? Plus, when anyone asks any of the teachers about you, they shut the rumors down, and Aizawa-Sensei's homeroom class hasn’t said anything so everyone’s more or less just curious about you.”

“Are you?” Izuku asks nervously.

“Am I?” Togata blinks in confusion, “am I what?”

“Curious,” Izuku amends awkwardly, staring down at his shoes, “are you curious about me too?”

“Of course,” Togata huffs a laugh, “you’re interesting. I mean, you knew my name before we even met, and I... can tell you’re scared of me. Or, maybe just really nervous to be around me. We’ve never met before, so I don’t quite understand why. And there has to be a reason for the secrecy, not that I’m going to ask about it. I know a thing or two about secrets.”

Izuku pauses, eyeing the older boy.

A thing or two about secrets, huh?

One for All whispers in the back of his mind— nothing intelligible, but there, nonetheless. Izuku strains to decipher the whispers, but it’s pointless. He returns his gaze to Togata, “what is your Quirk, Togata-senpai?”

“Ah,” the older laughs, once again rubbing at the back of his neck, almost nervously, “well, its permeation, but... I also have a secondary strength enhancer. It’s pretty new, so I’m still getting used to it— Recovery Girl said something about secondary Quirk manifestations being rare. A lot of the students talk about it, so it’s not exactly a secret or anything— I mean, suddenly getting a second Quirk in your third year is a little weird, right?”

Izuku’s body freezes up, and for a second, the whispers in the back of his mind grow deafeningly loud. It’s like they’re screaming, but they’re not. It’s the strangest feeling. Izuku has half a mind to cover his ears with his hands, but it won’t help against the noises in his head.

All at once the sound stops and Izuku’s left with radio silence from the vestiges.

A strength enhancer.

That’s Izuku’s excuse.

That’s what he tells everyone— that's what he’d told Aizawa-Sensei and 1-A just yesterday. That’s what One for All is. A strength enhancer. That’s what it had been for All Might, that’s what it is for Izuku, and apparently that’s what it is for Togata-Senpai too.

Togata-Senpai had a secondary, newly manifested Quirk that he does not have in Izuku’s reality.

Because... because Izuku is the one who has it in his reality.

Togata has One for All.

He’s found All Might’s successor in this reality.

There’s something about this revelation that isn’t surprising in the slightest. For the first couple months, Izuku hadn’t even known Togata-Senpai and ‘The Big Three’ existed, but then he’d met the man, and seen how he thought and worked, the kind of Hero he appeared to be— honestly, Izuku should’ve expected All Might’s successor here to be Togata Mirio after meeting the man in his reality. Togata had the heart and soul of a Hero, an obvious choice to inherit something like One for All and to step into the Symbol of Peace’s shoes.

“What about you?”

Izuku startles, eyes jerking back to the upperclassman. Izuku draws in a breath, chewing on his bottom lip, “w-what about me?”

“Your Quirk,” the older gives an easy laugh, “I was just wondering what your Quirk was. You don’t have to tell me, but I am curious. I know a lot of the students at this school’s Quirks from the Sports Festival at the start of the year, but I don’t know yours.”

“Oh,” Izuku breathes out, hesitating for just a second, “well, mine’s sorta a... well, it’s a strength enhancer as well. Just... it’s versatile. It’s a strength enhancer but I can use it for mobility and it’s a bit more than sheer strength. Seeing it I don’t think you’d be able to tell that it-it's a strength enhancer. It’s come a long way since I got it— I-I mean, since the start of the school year. I had a good mentor.”

“Me too,” Togata smiles easily, bright and almost blinding, “I’ve had a great mentor helping me with my new Quirk as well. He’s made this manifestation a lot easier to handle, I don’t know what I would’ve done if I’d had to figure it out on my own.”

Izuku thinks back to all the help All Might had offered him as well. Selecting him from a crowd after that Sludge villain attack. Working with him to build up the muscle mass One for All needed to not instantly kill him. He’d always been a great help; even when he was out of his depth he always tried.

Izuku knows he and All Might process One for All differently. That it’s done different things to each of them. He knows that it’s been hard for All Might to teach Izuku something he himself never dealt with. The Quirk is always throwing curve balls at Izuku that it never did to All Might.

Izuku will always appreciate everything Yagi-San has done for him.

He wonders if it’s been different for Togata-Senpai as well, or if it’s just Izuku that needed to put in the extra effort in learning it.

It wouldn’t surprise him— even looking at Togata-Senpai now, Izuku can see the similarities between Yagi-San and Togata-Senpai. He doubts Togata would’ve needed as much extra work as Izuku had when he’d been training to inherit the Quirk all those months ago. Not to mention the older boy already had two years of Hero school under his belt when he received the Quirk.

Izuku clenches his hand into a fist, fingers tingling with the overflow power of One for All. There’s quiet praise in the back of his mind, low and encouraging. He still can’t quite make anything out, but he can feel the encouragement. He pushes down the flutter of uncertainty, lifting his gaze back up to where Togata is watching him quietly.

“Midoriya-kun?”

“Ahh,” Izuku shakes his head, “sorry, I’m just... lost in thought, I suppose.”

He unclenches his fist, managing a smile at the older teen. The whispers fade away to a calm silence, and Izuku finds himself wondering if Togata’s One for All is reacting similarly to his own. The older doesn’t seem to be as distracted by the gaggle of Quirk ghosts.

“That’s alright,” Togata offers a kind smile, “I don’t know why you’re here, but if you ever want to talk, I’m usually around. I know we don’t know each other, but sometime that’s better. Easier to talk to a stranger, y’know? And... something in my gut tells me we’d get along great!”

Izuku bites back a snort of laughter.

Of course, they’d get along well; two students both possessing the same transferable Quirk from the same Number One Pro Hero who come from completely different realities. Maybe Togata’s One for All is reacting to Izuku’s own, even if Togata has a different connection to the vestiges. Izuku knows the vestiges hadn’t reached out to Yagi-San like they do Izuku, so maybe they don’t reach out to Togata in the same way either.

“Thank you, Senpai,” Izuku bows his head.

It’s actually nice to have someone who doesn't know approach him. 1-A had taken the news of Izuku’s reality like champs, really, but this felt different. Togata doesn’t know he’s not of this specific reality. Togata has no expectations for Izuku— they're just that to the older teen. Strangers. Togata is being kind to him even without knowing him.

Togata offers another wide grin, one that reminds Izuku so much of All Might, but before either of them can say anything else, the bathroom door opens. Izuku startles like he had when Togata entered the room, and even Togata himself swirls around to look at the door in surprise.

His reaction makes Izuku feel a little bit better about his own.

“Midoriya.” Izuku wilts in relief at the sound of Sensei’s monotone drawl, “I was starting to think you just had no concept of time.”

Izuku bristles in offense, eyebrows furrowing as he frowns at his teacher. The corners of Sensei’s mouth twitch upwards before straightening, but Izuku still feels a bit offended. He’s good at keeping track of time, plus it’s not like he has a phone, or a watch to be watching how much time he’s taking and the bathroom definitely doesn’t have a clock.

He opens his mouth to tell the teacher as much, but Togata beats him to it.

“Ah!” Togata laughs easily, flashing the underground Hero yet another smile, “sorry, Sensei, that was all me! I didn’t know you were waiting for Midoriya-kun, or I wouldn’t have kept distracting him! We were just chatting. I’d heard about your personal student but couldn’t match a face to a name until today!”

Sensei’s gaze flicks from Izuku to Togata, clearly taking in the scene before him. Izuku doesn’t know if he looks tense or stressed, he’s sure if he does it’s a lot tamer than when Togata had first entered the restroom as well.

“He’s not in trouble,” Sensei finally announces, looking somewhat impressed that Togata had just covered for Izuku (Izuku’s a bit surprised as well, to be honest, considering he just met Togata-Senpai in this reality). “Classes will be starting soon, and I thought he might’ve gotten lost. The hallways are busy when the bell rings; easy to get swept into the crowd.”

The excuse comes naturally from the teacher.

Izuku supposes that’s the most plausible excuse as to why a teacher would come looking for a student in the bathrooms, since technically, to the students of this reality, Izuku is a new student. A personal student at that.

“Right,” Togata nods in Sensei’s direction in agreement before looking back at Izuku thoughtfully, “that’s something you learn in your first year around here. Plus, the school is so big, super easy to get lost. My friend Tamaki got lost on his way to English class on the first day of our first year— thankfully Mic-Sensei didn’t give him too much of a hard time. It can still get really crowded though.”

Izuku knows his lips quirk up as he thinks briefly back to that first emergency alarm that had startled the entire student body on one of the first days of school. Izuku had nearly drowned in that crowd until Iida stepped in with his quick thinking.

Izuku is still immensely glad he’d managed to dodge the bullet of being the class representative.

“Anyways,” Togata clears his throat, looking between the underclassman and his Sensei, “I left my friends in the classroom, and Sensei’s right that classes will be starting soon! I should get going before Hado-chan and Tamaki think I lost the concept of time! It was really great meeting you, Midoriya-kun, have a good day! And you as well, Aizawa-Sensei!”

Togata bows respectfully at Sensei before offering Izuku a cheery wave, and then the upperclassman is slipping out the door and disappearing from sight.

“I see you met Togata,” Aizawa-Sensei drawls rhetorically after a second of silence, “that was an unexpected development. Are you alright?”

“Yeah. We’ve met before,” Izuku assures calmly, deciding to forgo telling his teacher how his heart had almost beat out of his chest when he realized he was no longer alone, “he’s super nice. And powerful as well. I only just met him— he convinced me to try for an internship at Nighteye Agency with him. Speaking of, did you have Togata-Senpai fight against your 1-A class? I mean, we didn’t stand a chance before, I can’t imagine taking him on now.”

Sensei studies Izuku for a long second before narrowing his eyes suspiciously, “what does that mean? Now? What’s changed about Togata in your reality?”

Izuku freezes.

Had he said that?

Whoops.

“Ah,” the boy swallows, thumbing at the cotton of his bandage, “I just meant... um, he’s stronger here. M-my classmates are a bit behind here b-but, uh, I think Togata’s gotten stronger?”

“Midoriya.”

Izuku does not like that tone, and knows better than to keep digging when it’s Aizawa-Sensei he’s trying to convince, “I really can’t say—”

“...what does All Might have to do with any of this?”

Izuku pauses, eyes sweeping towards his teacher in surprise. Izuku knows for a fact he hadn’t said anything about All Might, so where was the question coming from?

Aizawa-Sensei is watching Izuku intently, no doubt picking about his micro expressions, body language and words apart in that way Sensei always seems to. One for All buzzes under his skin once again at the mention of All Might, but Izuku clamps down on the feeling.

“What... do you mean?” Izuku finally forces out, hoping he sounds natural. By the downward curve of his Sensei’s mouth, he knows he hadn’t managed it. “No one said anything about All Might, Sensei.”

Sensei gives Izuku a deadpan look, eyes narrowing dangerously.

The man reins in the look, heaving a deep breath as he lets his shoulders slump from the tense stance he’d taken when he’d first found Izuku not alone in the restroom. The underground Hero blows out another breath before gesturing Izuku to follow him silently.

Izuku falls into step behind Aizawa-Sensei.

The man’s hands are buried in his pockets as he leads the way back to the classroom. Izuku catches sight of a clock in the hallway, which informs him there’s only ten minutes until classes resume. He’d been in the bathroom for over twenty minutes.

No wonder Sensei had come looking for him.

When they reach 1-A's homeroom, Sensei opens the door for Izuku then calmly gestures him into the room. Izuku enters wordlessly, nerves buzzing along with the age-old Quirk.

It’s only when the door is shut that Sensei finally speaks, “why does All Might mentor you in your reality?”

Izuku feels his brow furrow at the question, head cocking as he studies his teacher. Izuku watches the man unabashed as Sensei paces towards his desk, sitting down stiffly as he gestures to the closest desk, which happens to be Hagakure’s desk.

Izuku follows the silent direction as he mulls the question over, settling in Hagakure’s seat with his hands interlaced on the desktop. Sensei lets Izuku stew on his answer, not saying a thing as he waits.

“All Might helped me train to get into Yuuei,” Izuku informs thoughtfully, glancing out the window instead of looking at Aizawa-Sensei. “I was Quirkless still, when we met, but he... he saw potential in me and decided to help me try to prepare for the Entrance Exam. When I did manifest my Quirk he decided to help me with that as well—I-I mean, they were sorta similar, my Quirk and his, so he could help me understand it. I owe All Might a lot.”

“All Might also helped Togata with his newly manifested secondary Quirk,” Aizawa-Sensei's nose scrunches up at his own words. It’s Sensei’s turn to seemingly be mulling the information over.

Izuku wonders what the man is thinking.

Sensei is quiet for a long time, a couple minutes at least. He looks deep in thought, deep enough that Izuku is worried about what conclusion his homeroom teacher will come to.

Izuku knows there’s no way he’ll be able to settle on the actual fact that there’s a highly powerful transferable Quirk being entrusted to two high school students from two separate realities, but he knows Aizawa-Sensei is clever.

Truthfully, Izuku knows he hasn’t been as careful as he probably should’ve been from the start. The Sensei he knows doesn’t spend as much time analyzing Izuku as this Aizawa-Sensei seems to, and if he does, he doesn’t show it. Plus, since it’s just Izuku who All Might mentors, and it’s only Izuku he sees and not Togata too like this Aizawa has realized, there’s really no reason for his Aizawa to be concerned.

Unfortunately, that’s not the case here.

Izuku really hadn’t thought about what he’d do if he happened upon All Might’s alternate reality successor. He’d never thought about Aizawa-Sensei witnessing both of All Might’s successors in the same room. Knowing them both, talking to them both and being able to connect similarities in their situations.

Izuku knows, logically, that he and All Might have a bit of a more personal relationship, and he can only assume All Might and Togata must as well.

One for All is personal, something only All Might can really teach now considering he’s the only other living person to ever have possessed the Quirk. Not to mention it’s a heavily guarded secret that so few people actually know about. It’s a dangerous secret.

Izuku startles when Sensei clears his throat, the boy surprised when he looks up to find his teacher studying him intently. The man narrows his eyes as he settles his elbows on the dsktop, supporting his body.

“You can’t tell me that it doesn’t seem a little too convenient that All Might just so happens to also be Togata’s mentor here,” Sensei huffs, leaning forwards without taking his eyes off of Izuku, “when you’ve also mentioned All Might being your mentor back in your reality. I noticed faint similarities to All Might’s fight style compared to your own when you were fighting my students, and since Togata manifested his second Quirk earlier this year, he’s also adopted an essence of his fight style too.”

“I... don’t know what you want me to say, Sensei,” Izuku mumbles, thumbing over the bandages as a nervous tic. “All Might has helped me.”

“I want you to tell me the truth,” Sensei sighs heavily, “but I know it won’t happen. All Might, for as loud and charismatic as he is, is surprisingly secretive. I don’t know why he suddenly decided he wanted to help shape the minds of young Heroes, when all he’s done for years is parade around as the Symbol of Peace, but it’s suspicious.

“The man has no experience, he has no teaching certification, his teaching methods are disheartening more often than not, and to top it all off, it seems he’s selected one specific student from each reality to mentor directly. You and Togata are very different people, Midoriya. What’s his thought process behind this?”

Sensei is quiet for a long second, expression somberly thoughtful until he finally lets out a defeated sigh, “it doesn’t make sense.”

The warning bell rings signaling the end of lunch period and the start of their afternoon classes. Izuku knows it won’t be long until 1-A is returning to the room. If the schedule matches up to his own, they’ll be heading to the training gym shortly.

Sensei leaves the conversation at that but... Izuku has a sinking feeling that the man isn’t verbalizing the entirety of his thoughts. Izuku has a bad feeling Sensei is piecing more together with the information he has than Izuku thinks is possible.

Had he just messed something up?

There isn’t much time to dwell on it though as the door opens and the students start to file into the room. Izuku jerks up from Hagakure’s desk, dutifully marching to the back of the room and plopping down in Mineta’s old seat, the only vacant desk in the class. It’s very weird sitting a seat behind where he sits in his 1-A classroom.

They’re hardly three minutes into class when there’s a knock on the door, followed by Present Mic peering into the room after sliding the door open, “hey, hey, hey,” the man greets, pushing the door open the rest of the way, “Nezu’s requested you! You’ve got a visitor, Eraser!”

“A visitor?” Aizawa-Sensei narrows his eyes at the other Hero from his spot at the podium.

“Yep! It revolves around your... current case, ya’dig? He came to talk with Nesu-San originally, but Nezu-San insisted you’d have some questions as well. Anyways! I’ve been sent to watch over the Lil’ Listeners in your absence! We’ll have a great time, won’t we kiddos?”

“Ah,” Aizawa-Sensei nods slowly, “I see. Thank you, Mic. Listen up, 1-A, you’re still going to the training gym. You know what you’re supposed to be doing. I probably won’t be long. I trust you’ll all behave. Midoriya is not to be participating at all until his injury is cleared up. You all know what you’re supposed to be doing, don’t let my absence affect that.”

“We know the drill,” Mic-Sensei chirps brightly as Aizawa-Sensei nods in his direction before finally heading towards the still ajar door, “alright, kiddos! Off you get, training uniforms on! Let’s not disappoint Eraser, ya’dig? He’s a whole lot meaner than I am!”

Izuku’s gaze follows his teacher out of the room before settling back on Present Mic. The man gestures him over with a kind smile, throwing an arm over Izuku’s shoulders when he’s within reach and leading him towards the gym they’ll be using.

Izuku listens to the chatter of the 1-A students heading down the hallway to get changed, listens to Yamada-Sensei chatter on about analyzing the students Quirks if he’s feeling up to it, and Izuku can just nod along thoughtlessly as he keeps pace.

Something doesn’t feel right.

Shota’s hands are tucked into the pockets of his jumpsuit as he makes his way towards the teacher’s office. He already knows who it is he’ll be speaking to, and he’s glad Nezu had the forethought to plan Shota’s own visit with the detective.

He knows the principal is probably up to his tricks once again, and he won’t doubt that Nezu had somehow known there are questions Shota has for the detective. There’re cameras everywhere—ones Shota and the staff know about, and he knows there’s hidden cameras too. He’s sure in addition to that, there’s probably microphones as well.

Nezu's cunning like that.

“Ah, Aizawa-kun!”

And speak of the devil.

Nezu steps towards Shota, coming from the direction Shota’s going. The rodent’s hands are clasped together behind his back, smile wide and toothy. “I see Yamada-kun delivered my message! I hope you’re not to troubled to be leaving Midoriya-kun alone. I suspect you’d like to have a conversation with the Detective without young, clever ears listening in, hm?”

“I have questions,” Shota says. “And I hope he has answers. I assume you requested his presence with similar concerns to mine?”

“Indeed,” Nezu’s nose twitches, tail sweeping side to side behind him in thought, “your conversation with Midoriya-kun and Bakugou-kun was quite worrying. You handled it remarkably well, but you’re right that it raised concerns I wished to discuss. The Detective is in the teacher’s office, the first conference room. He’s waiting for you.”

“Thank you,” Shota bows his head to his boss, biting back a sigh when he lifts his head to see the rodent grinning sharply. Nezu always got a kick out of humans showing him respect.

“Hurry along, Aizawa-kun!” Nezu chirps when he’s sated, “let’s not keep our guest waiting!”

Nezu carries on with nothing but a cheerful smile shot in Shota’s direction. The man stands stiff in the hall for a second as tiny sneakers trek further away. He blows out a sigh as he finally forces himself back into action.

The teacher’s office is barren, which Shota expects.

None of the teachers besides Hizashi has a free period after lunch. He steps into the room, letting the door sweep shut after him. The conference room Nezu had been talking about is slightly ajar.

“Good afternoon,” the detective greets when Shota finally enters the room. “Nezu-San said you wanted to speak with me. Was it something to do with Midoriya?”

“No,” Shota steps further into the room, settling at the table across from Tsukauchi, “Deku, actually.”

“Deku?” Tsukauchi’s face twists up, before realization settles in his features, “ah, I see. Nezu also had concerns we discussed. I assume it’s you who brought this to his attention then.”

“Bakugou brought it to my attention, and I refuse to ignore it,” Shota says, crossing his arms over his chest. “What do you know about Midoriya Izuku’s death?”

“As much as you do probably,” Tsukauchi tells him honestly, resting his elbows on the tabletop. “I looked through the reports, but you got an explanation from an involved source.”

“You’re telling me you didn’t know anything?”

“No, I didn’t,” Tsukauchi shakes his head apologetically. “If I’d known about Midoriya Izuku and Deku being the same person, we wouldn’t be where we are today. I had no idea. No one had any idea. Midoriya Izuku is deceased; Deku is very much alive as far as we’re aware. Those are not dots you could connect with some adjoining aspect.”

“And Bakugou’s the adjoining aspect.”

“He was,” Tsukauchi nods slowly, matching Shota’s own hostility. “Without a civilian name, we’d still be exactly where we were. I’ll admit I wasn’t convinced when I first started looking into the name—deceased is a very good alibi, but the more I dug the more links I found.”

"And you didn’t think to do anything with that?” Shota snaps, glaring at the man. “You knew Deku was presumed dead. You didn’t think you should tell anyone that one of the current most feared villains is a deceased Quirkless fifteen-year-old? You didn’t think to mention he’d committed suicide? That seems like pretty useful information, Tsukauchi.”

“I only just found out, Eraser,” Tsukauchi frowns, “the same as you. The day Bakugou was rescued from the League was the first I’d even heard of the name too.”

“And what about when the poor kid supposedly killed himself?”

“I wasn’t on that suicide case,” Tsukauchi tells him slowly, and truthfully, it’s something Shota already knows. “I don’t handle suicides, you know that. I work in major crimes, with Pro Heroes. The case of a Quirkless child jumping off a bridge wouldn’t end up on my desk, Aizawa. I watched that same reports on the news just like anyone else, I know what you know. How would you expect me to connect dots when I haven’t even seen one of the dots?”

Shota glares, “and the fact that Bakugou fed you the kid’s name? No question there? A student who’d been kidnapped by the League fed your unit information, personal information that a hostage generally wouldn’t be privy to, and you didn’t say anything? What, not worth mentioning that the villain the entirety of Japan is terrified of is a presumed dead Quirkless teenager?”

“There was more to be worried about than Bakugou telling us Deku’s civilian name,” Tsukauchi informs, tone tight and clipped. He sounds tired, but that’s not enough to deter Shota from pushing. “We were in the middle of two raids, Yagi was fighting a villain who was a major threat we didn’t even know was at large, and the League had just disappeared without a trace under our noses. Bakugou was recovered unharmed— there wasn’t time to focus on a name, Aizawa.”

“There’s been time,” Shota snarls in reply, “that raid happened over a month ago, Tsukauchi, you’ve had time to look into it. You’ve had time to find answers.”

“I did look into it,” Tsukauchi huffs, “give me some credit here, Eraser. I can’t produce answers at the snap of my fingers, and you know that. I dug for information. I followed the leads. I found his mother. I looked into his name. And you know what I found? A distraught mother who could barely even look at me. I found an old missing child report that was hardly so much as touched, now with a big old ‘deceased’ stamped across the cover. I found the death certificate of a fourteen-year-old Quirkless child. I found a school photo of a young man who matched the sketch of your description to a tee.”

“You still didn’t tell us his identity,” Shota snaps in annoyance, “I should’ve been made aware. Deku targeted Bakugou. Plain and simple. He targeted him and he could do it again. A name is useless to me— I don’t have the resources you have. Bakugou is my student and I should have been told that his kidnapping was personal— that there was even so much as a link between Bakugou and Deku. It’s my responsibility to protect him.”

“Midoriya Izuku is dead,” Tsukauchi reminds calmly, “he’s reported dead. There’s a death certificate. He committed suicide. The body was never found. He left a suicide note; I didn’t even know this case existed, let alone had any say in what happened to the case of a Quirkless suicide. The kid is legally dead—”

“He’s obviously not, Tsukauchi,” Shota leans back in his chair, eyes narrowed, “Bakugou confirmed as much, and I saw Deku with my own two eyes. And you can’t even try to tell me otherwise when Midoriya’s shown up here looking exactly like Deku. I know what I saw, and I trust my student.”

“In the eyes of the law, he’s dead.” Tsukauchi tells him bluntly. “Until I have solid proof that Midoriya Izuku is in fact alive, there is nothing I can do to reverse that certificate. That’s why Deku’s name was never released to the public. He’s dead, Aizawa. A deceased Quirkless child cannot be a villain currently at large. It wouldn’t make sense. And releasing something like that, though true, would cause an uproar with the public. Imagine the backlash we’d receive if the public suspected us of using a Quirkless boy who is legally declared dead as a scapegoat for a villain we can’t identify?”

Shota looks away from the detective, chewing on the inside of his cheek in exasperation.

It makes sense, on some morbid level. The police would try to protect themselves. Either way this will look bad on them— the truth that Midoriya Izuku is alive and the truth about how they’d neglected his missing person’s case and simply declared him dead to wipe their hands clear of him, or, like Tsukauchi said, that they’re trying to use a deceased boy as a scapegoat.

But still— “You should’ve told me.”

“I should’ve,” the detective agrees cautiously, bowing his head apologetically, “I apologize. I should have informed you of the connection as soon as I was aware that there even was a connection between Deku and Bakugou. My negligence put this school and more specifically, Bakugou, at potential risk and that’s on me. You’re right, Aizawa.”

Shota narrows his eyes distrustfully, but ultimately nods in acceptance of the apology. “What are you going to do? Say we don’t catch Deku. Heroes should know exactly who they’re looking for. The sketch currently released isn’t completely accurate, and we do have semi-recent photos of Deku from his junior high.”

At this, Tsukauchi draws in an unsteady breath, slumping back in his chair. “Honestly? I don’t know.”

Tsukauchi is quiet for a long second before he tilts his head back and glares up at the ceiling, “you’re right. It’s just... not that simple. Very few people are privy to the actual truth about Deku. It’s a sensitive case. Just because the name Midoriya Izuku has been released to an inner circle of Heroes, doesn’t mean anyone will have the means to connect the name to the suicide case. It was over a year ago, and as awful as it sounds, that suicide is long forgotten. We’re trying to keep this under wraps for now.”

“Any way you choose to go about this the department will receive backlash,” Shota summarizes thoughtfully. “And there’s a chance it could fall back onto Heroes as well. It was blatant Quirkless discrimination; the department deliberately ignored a missing child report and because of that, days later he supposedly committed suicide where we still didn’t even attempt to find his body. Bakugou said no one cared— not the officers they spoke to and not any Heroes involved.”

“Yeah,” the detective sighs heavily, looking back at Shota. The underground Hero can’t help but notice the distraught in the man’s eyes. “I’m ashamed to admit discrimination is still happening in my precinct. It shouldn’t be, but it obviously still is. We need to do better. I don’t want anything like this ever happening again. I just can’t fathom an officer looking at a missing child report and ignoring it.”

“We all need to do better,” Shota snorts humorlessly.

It was just jarring to Shota that there were kids as young as Deku, who would’ve been just fourteen years old, who’d turned to villainy. They were children. Children were becoming villains whether due to Quirk discrimination, Quirkless discrimination, negative influence, or even as a means to escape something worse.

That very well could’ve happened to Deku.

He just... he doesn’t know how a kid can go from Midoriya to Deku. What had happened? What changed? There must be a reason.

“Something else on your mind, Eraser?”

“Have any other Heroes ever reported coming into contact with Deku?” Shota finds himself asking.

He watches the man across from him as the detective turns his curious attention back onto Shota.

“Not that I know of,” Tsukauchi replies easily as he cocks his head in curiosity, “why?”

“Something doesn’t add up here,” Shota shakes his head, raking his fingers through his hair, “All Might was the first Hero Deku ever analyzed. He was the first one that Deku turned on— Deku's debut. Why All Might?”

Tsukauchi blinks, lips curling down in a frown, “he is the number one Hero.”

“But his injury?” Shota fires back, “Deku is good, there’s no question, but how would he figure that out? How could he know? How the hell did a fourteen-year-old kid figure out about Yagi’s chronic injury? About his time limit? I mean, we didn’t even know until Deku spilled the beans.”

Tsukauchi blinks like he’d never thought about it before shaking his head, “Yagi had no idea who Deku was when I showed him the sketch after it was released. I don’t know how he figured it out. Why the sudden interest? Where’s this coming from?”

“I just think it’s odd,” Shota tells him honestly. “Midoriya’s arrival here has me rethinking some things.”

“Regarding Yagi?” Tsukauchi arches an eyebrow.

“Yes.”

Tsukauchi frowns again, leaning back in his chair as he regards Shota, “what exactly are you rethinking?”

“His arrival here for one,” Shota doesn’t bother beating around the bush.

He knows Yagi and Tsukauchi are close. He knows there’s secrets between the two of them, and probably Nezu as well, if he’s honest— he'd known years ago that the two of them were friends.

“Isn’t it convenient that the year he starts teaching at this school is the year that Togata, the student he decides to mentor, might I remind you, suddenly and without warning manifests a rare secondary Quirk? He’s eighteen— that's practically unheard of, Tsukauchi.”

“What’s weird about Yagi helping the kid with a new Quirk?” The defense is not unexpected. “Practically unheard of doesn’t mean impossible.”

“Well, that alone? Nothing.” At this, Tsukauchi’s frown deepens. “But when linked with the fact that Midoriya, who also manifested a random, almost as unheard of Quirk, at fifteen, the same year Yagi decides to start teaching at the Yuuei in his reality? Suspicious. A Quirkless child manifesting a Quirk conveniently when he starts high school the same year Yagi decides to start teaching? Around the same time Togata develops a second Quirk in this reality?”

Tsukauchi’s gaze hardens, body tensing, “and what, exactly, are you getting at here, Aizawa?”

“Deku’s Quirkless,” Shota continues, eyes narrowed in challenge. “How much would you like to bet that the Togata in Midoriya’s reality does not manifest a rare secondary Quirk?”

“Sounds like a coincidence to me,” Tsukauchi finally mutters.

“Really? Sounds shady to me,” Shota counters.

“You’re reaching, Aizawa,” Tsukauchi frowns, fingers tapping on the tabletop. The man across from Shota sighs, slumping in his chair like he’s suddenly exhausted. “You need to forget about this. Focus on getting Midoriya home. Focus on your students. You’re wasting your breath on this. You're trying to find connctions that don't exist. Besides, this doesn’t concern you and sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong is dangerous, Aizawa.”

“I am focused on my students,” Shota remarks tightly. “You know something. Togata may not be my direct student anymore, but he’s still one of my kids. And Midoriya might not be mine directly, but he sure as hell is now. We’re talking about my students—my kids. Tell me, honestly, that there’s no connection and I’ll leave it alone.”

Tsukauchi hesitates.

Shota knows he can’t do it.

The underground Hero nods, “then I can’t leave it alone.”

“I’ve played nice and answered your questions,” Tsukauchi drags his hands down his face before blinking up at Shota, “I can’t disclose anything else. You’re snooping in something to really shouldn’t be, Aizawa. It’s a confidential matter. Yagi knows what he’s doing, and truthfully, we wouldn’t even be having this conversation if Midoriya had never shown up.”

Shota scrunches up his nose at the awful— true— thought, “and that’s exactly why I’m worried.”

Tsukauchi wilts, opening his mouth to reply, but the door slamming open draws in both of their attention instead. Shota stares at the interruption for no longer than half a second before a rock of dread settles in his stomach.

Shota jerks to his feet as a slightly out of breath Iida stares wide-eyes, “I apologize for the interruption, Sensei, but we really need you in the gym. It’s an emergency!”

“Why?” Shota asks urgently, already moving towards the door with Tsukauchi on his heels. Seeing the two adults following him, the student turns swiftly to lead the way. “What’s happening, Iida?”

“It’s Midoriya, Sensei,” Iida rushes to say, “All Might attacked him!”

All Might did what now?

Chapter Text

Izuku watches Aizawa-Sensei leave as he, Present Mic and 1-A all leave the classroom on their way down to the training gym. Izuku lingers for a second in the middle of the hallway as his homeroom teacher’s figure gets smaller and smaller before he turns a corner and disappears from sight.

There’s an impulse rising in his chest to sprint after the man that he swallows down.

It’s the first time they’d really split up since Izuku had managed to convince the underground Hero of who he actually is; of his rather unfortunate luck with a Quirk in his own reality.

He knows he’s come to rely on his own Aizawa-Sensei, after everything, how could he not, but it doesn’t hold a torch to how Izuku had been clinging to this reality’s Aizawa-Sensei. So much has changed in very subtle ways, but the one thing that hasn’t is Aizawa-Sensei. Even if the man isn’t technically his own from where he’s from, Sensei is the only one who doesn’t feel different.

Plus, he knows that when he’s with Sensei, he’s safe.

Safe from violence, and safe from accusations, and safe from Quirks. People respect Aizawa-Sensei— they're fearful of Aizawa-Sensei. All the students at this school, 1-A included, have a healthy fear of the stern, tired Pro Hero.

And even if someone did try something, Sensei has the power to take that danger away with his own Quirk. And... well, no one is stupid enough to mess with him when he’s trailing along the underground Hero’s side like a kitten.

But now they’re separated—

He knows he shouldn’t feel like he’s watching a lifeline disappear; he’s safe with Present Mic, and he hopes 1-A has been convinced that he’s no threat to them enough that they’ll help if something were to happen. And it is a Hero school— students are in classes, so it’s not like any of them will randomly show up and try to kill him during class.

Still, his stomach clenches with nerves as he turns on his heels and falls into step with Present Mic.

He’s not expecting the Pro’s hand to settle on his shoulder, giving a quick pat before draping along his shoulders, but he takes the gentle, grounding touch in stride, stepping closer to the man.

“Don’t worry, Listener,” Present Mic glances down, shooting him a grin, “Shota won’t be long, I’m sure. Just a quick chat with Detective Tsukauchi, I know he had some questions for him— trust me, he doesn’t want to leave you anymore then you want him to leave you. I’m sure the only reason he even agreed to step away was because he trusts me one hundred and ten percent, ya’dig?”

Izuku nods slowly, eyes darting forwards anxiously.

1-A had filed out into the changing rooms to put on their athletic uniforms, but since Izuku isn’t participating, he keeps by Present Mic’s side. It’s once again strange to watch his peers, his friends and classmates, leave to do something to routine that he simply isn’t a part of.

The absence of the class must be why Yamada-Sensei is chatting with him so casually— explaining past the brief excuse of ‘meeting a visitor’ he’d supplied the class with, and, not to mention using Aizawa-Sensei's given name which until arriving in this reality, Izuku hadn’t ever heard Present Mic or Aizawa-Sensei call one another by anything but their family names or Hero names.

The trust the Pro offers him eases some of the tension in his shoulders, but he’s still on edge.

He thinks he will be until he’s got Aizawa-Sensei in his sights.

Izuku frowns down towards the ground at that embarrassing level of dependency he has for his homeroom teacher's alternate reality doppelganger.

Present Mic doesn’t say anything more as they stroll in the direction of the gym the students will be using, Izuku keeping pace with him. He knows it won’t be long until the rest of the class is behind them once again. Changing quickly is one of the things you learn fast in Sensei’s class— especially when he holds you to high standards.

The longer you’re changing, the less time you have for class. The less time you have for training. They all want to make the most of what little time they actually have for training, so they’re all speedy in the change rooms.

Present Mic drops his arm from around Izuku’s shoulders as they get closer to the gym, but Izuku doesn’t mind. He still keeps pace with the Pro. The run in with Togata that afternoon, as harmless as it had turned out to be, had made him a bit uneasy. It would be so easy to get cornered somewhere, by someone with less than pleasant intentions.

He’s lucky Togata is such a kind man— maybe even a little lucky that he’s a little clueless here. He wonders what would’ve happened if Togata had known who he was, or if the One for All in this reality reacted to the One for All Izuku had brought from his own reality.

A sharp pain in his head has him stumbling forwards as he lifts a hand to massage against the side of his head. He draws in a pained breath, bowing his head forwards in an attempt to loosen the strain in his neck as his body tenses up in pain, but it doesn’t help at all.

It’s happening again.

That weird headache.

It’s happening, and Aizawa-Sensei isn’t here.

Figures that would happen. Seems to be just Izuku’s luck at this point.

Izuku’s other hand comes up to massage at the other side of his head as well, but the intense pain is only on the one side. It really is a headache like no other he’s ever had.

“Listener?” Izuku can’t find the strength to look up at the concerned voice. Present Mic’s voice is a bit distant—like the man hadn’t noticed Izuku stopped walking when he did, but by the time the Pro speaks again, he’s right at Izuku’s side once more. Izuku feels a hand settle on his forearm, giving a light squeeze. He can tell it’s Present Mic. “You okay? What’s wrong?”

“I don’t know,” Izuku whimpers under his breath, “headache.”

The Pro is quiet for a second, grip still grounding Izuku through the pain, “a going back to where you came from sorta headache?”

“No,” Izuku whispers, giving a tiny, tense shake of his head. He’s surprised by the fact the movement doesn’t make anything worse— nor does it lessen anything. It’s just a constant, sharp pain. “Happened... b’fore. Yesterday. Went away after a couple seconds... Nothin’ happened; just ‘urts. Sensei knows.”

“Alright,” Present Mic’s grip tightens faintly, thumb sweeping gently over his forearm as he repositions so he can grab ahold of Izuku and lead him along. He settles at Izuku’s side, his second hand planting on the small of the teen’s back as he guides Izuku forwards towards the gym. “C’mon then, let’s get you to the gym so you can sit until Shota comes back, yeah?”

Izuku manages a little nod without looking up.

His eyes are squeezed shut; head still bowed. He’s putting all his trust into Yamada-Sensei to lead him to the gym the class will be training in, he doesn’t want to open his eyes in fear of making the pain worse somehow, but he knows he’s overly tense at the lack of his own senses.

Doesn’t seem like there’s any way to win here though.

They’re in the gym not much time later.

He knows, logically, it had taken a couple minutes—a lot of steps— but it feels like he’s suddenly there. He knows they would’ve had to walk down the rest of the hall, and that Present Mic had had to leave him wavering in the hallway as he opened the gym doors for them.

It’s weird to feel so distant and withdrawn just from a bit of a headache—

Well.

A very, very painful headache.

Izuku feels himself be guided to a wall, redirected right when they enter the room so he’s got the support of the wall almost instantly. The cool of the wall settles into his body as his shoulder blades make contact with it. He drops his weight almost entirely against the wall and decides that then is a good time for his knees to buckle as he slides down the wall until he’s curled into an almost fetal position.

He’s quick to draw his knees up to his chest, lacing his arms around his knees and squeezing through the pain. He bows his head until he can bury his nose in the gap between his knees, eyes squeezed shut as he attempts to block out the overhead light in the fabric of his uniform pants.

“You’re okay,” he hears a voice tell him— it's so soft. Comforting yet a little panicked. “Deep breaths, Listener, I know it hurts. It’ll go away soon, yeah? Just like yesterday.”

The hand hasn’t left his arm, the weight of it anchoring Izuku. He feels the presence at his side, crouched beside him. It doesn’t take a genius to know it’s Present Mic once again.

He manages a shaky breath to appease the voice, head bowing down even more. It hurts. It hurts worse than last time— sharp and striking against his skull. It feels like someone took a hammer to his skull.

He isn’t sure why it’s in that one specific spot. He doesn’t know why the pain is so sharply direct but still hurts all over too. It really is the weirdest kind of pain he’s ever felt, and he’s felt a lot over the years.

“Sensei?” Kaminari’s voice filters into Izuku’s ears. He still doesn’t dare look up, head still pounding. “What happened? Is... Midoriya alright?”

“He’ll be okay,” the English teacher promises, and Izuku can almost imagine the weak smile. It doesn’t sound like it really placates anyone as a murmur carries over what he assumes is the majority of class 1-A. Yamada-Sensei doesn’t move from his spot at Izuku’s side as he continues, a bit more upbeat, “don’t worry, Kiddo, he’s just got a bit of a headache! Hopefully it passes soon and we can get back to class, yo!”

“He doesn’t look okay,” Uraraka observes, and then someone’s stepping faintly closer. By how much closer her voice sounds when she continues, he’s going to assume it’s Uraraka hovering at his other side, “Midoriya, are you sure you’re okay? Should someone get Recovery Girl.”

“No, no,” Yamada-Sensei declines, and Izuku is glad the man does it. Between the pain and how overwhelmed he feels, his tongue sits heavy in his mouth. “Just give him a second, ya’dig? Why don’t you kiddos get a start on some warm ups, yeah? Give Midoriya some space. Crowding helps no one, Thirteen taught ya that during rescue training, remember? He’ll be okay, just give him some room to breathe, yeah?”

He goes to nod his head in agreement but doesn’t manage to actually get that far.

He wants to assure the students he’s fine, but... he’s not so sure of that anymore. It hurts. So much. It’s been steadily getting worse. More intense. He wants to cry at the sharp pain; and no amount of wincing or squeezing his eyes shut helps ease it.

Still, he manages to bite back his tears, overwhelmingly aware of how close and attentive the majority of the class already is. It almost feels like he’s back where he belongs; his own peers worried about him because they’re friends and classmates and he’s a Hero student and not a villain.

He’s not though. He knows that.

He doesn’t want to cry in front of 1-A.

They’re already worried.

Him bawling because of a headache will just worry them more, which is something he does not want. They should be focusing on their training, not on him.

“Kiddo,” Present Mic speaks again, this time a little more urgent, “don’t pull your hair like that, you’ll hurt yourself—and you shouldn’t be grabbing like that with your injury... C’mon, loosen your grip a bit. I know it hurts, Kiddo.”

The pressure of his hand on Izuku’s arm tightens lightly, but it doesn’t hurt or even feel uncomfortable in the slightest. It’s so close to being a distraction from the pain in his head— he feels it, but it’s no longer grounding him.

Izuku hadn’t even noticed he’d lifted his hands to knot into his curls— he can’t feel anything besides the throb of pain in his skull. He wants to just flop over on his side and bury his head between his knees. He wants... Sensei. Or his mom. He wants something familiar.

“It must really hurt,” he hears Todoroki next, as a shadow looms over the figure he’d already identified as Uraraka. “Midoriya hardly even flinched when I did that to his hand.”

“Oh yeah, that’s right,” Kirishima replies, and Izuku can hear the frown in his tone, “we didn’t even realize he was hurt until Sensei pointed it out. Midoriya’s pain tolerance is like, through the roof. It was so manly— he barely batted an eyelash! That headache must be killer if it’s doing this to ‘im!”

“Is there anything we can do to help?” Ashido asks distantly, further away from the others. Maybe she’s actually warming up like Yamada-Sensei suggested. He doubts it. He can almost feel the presence of the 1-A students crowding around him despite Yamada-Sensei's attempts at shooing them away.

“The headache will pass,” Present Mic tells the students calmly, “it’s not the first time that it’s happened. I’d just like for him to loosen his grip a bit— he could hurt himself if he doesn’t stop. Midoriya, do you think you can do that? Just a bit.”

He wants to, but he doesn’t even remember lifting his hands to his hair— all he can focus on is the pain. His fingers are tense, and he doesn’t think he can even really feel them through the pain in his head. He digs his fingertips into his skull above the site of the pain, wincing to himself when it does nothing to help. When it doesn’t help at all, he knots his fingers deeper into the curls, face pinching in pain.

He thinks he might let out a cry of discomfort or something, since Present Mic’s hand squeezes comfortingly and he hears worried whispers from the students. He thinks he might tighten his grip unknowingly, and he feels gentle fingers trying to slip between where he’s clutching at clumps of his own curls.

“Maybe I can help,” the voice is familiar, but not one Izuku can place. It’s not one he hears every day, and he can’t seem to match the voice to a face, or even a name. There are mumbles of agreement around him, but he doesn’t bother putting in the effort to decipher anything. The thought of thinking makes him feel queasy as another strike of pain shoots through his head.

He thinks he hears Yamada-Sensei's voice, somewhere nearby, but he’s really not sure at this point.

“Midoriya. Can you talk right now?”

He tenses at being addressed, turning the question over in his head a couple times as he tries to figure out an answer. His fingers twitch as he tries to force his heavy tongue into action. It’s easier to find his voice then it is to take control of his own fingers. “Y-ye—”

And his body goes numb.

Ah. Shinsou.

“Good,” Izuku hears the voice mumble with a nervous laugh, “that would’ve been so much harder if you couldn’t. Anyways, um, release your grip on your hair, Midoriya. Hands at your sides. Good. Good, now, take a breath. Nice and deep. I bet it hurts, but you need to take a breath.”

His body follows suit, complying with Shinsou’s demands without a care or thought. His body sucks in a desperate breath, and Izuku feels the relief settle in his lungs.

He’s never had an attack like that before but... he’s also never had such an incapacitating pain in his head either. He’s never felt pain like this, and never in a place as vital as his head. He’s used to broken arms, and legs, and the occasional concussion, but this is worse than all that combined.

Some of the pain in his head lessens— had he been tugging that much? He hadn’t realized. The worried tone of Yamada-Sensei makes more sense now. He can place some of the pain now, and now that he’s no longer tugging at his own hair, he finds a bit of relief.

But that sharp, insistent pain doesn’t waver.

He doesn’t quite know what happens— one second, he’s blearily staring at Shinsou, feeling worlds away and distant even though he knows it’s just the effect of the Brainwashing Quirk he’s under— then the next second he’s actually gone, and he’s alone wherever he is.

Izuku fights tiredly against the restraints, glancing down. His body is enveloped in a dark, pixelated sort of... he doesn’t even know what to compare it to. The edges of the restraint flickers off into a dark green and it’s... familiar. In a way. It keeps him rooted in place, body tense with that numb pins-and-needles sort of feeling you get when your limbs fall asleep.

His head still pounds, sharp against his skull, but it has lessened a bit with the sudden change of environment.

The darkness climbs slowly up his body, crawling along his chest and getting closer to his face. It covers over his mouth, but he can’t taste anything weird, or really feel anything. He knows it’s there, can see it when he looks down, but it’s like there’s nothing there at all.

He wonders what this is—what sort of Quirk it is.

“Don’t fight it, you’ve been here before,” a voice reprimands lightly. “You’re safe. For now.”

Izuku looks down at the green and black void before lifting his eyes in the direction of the voice.

The man he sees is surrounded in a similar void-like substance except instead of green, the wispy ends are purple-ish. And it’s not restricting him in the same way it is Izuku. The void is almost a part of this man, clinging to his form.

The man himself has white hair, and deep scars dragging down his face. He’s not close enough for Izuku to tell any more of his details. Once again, there’s a faint déjà vu sort of feeling. It’s all so familiar.

He takes a second to stare at the man before it all clicks into place.

He’s not sure why he didn’t realize sooner— he's in the Quirk. In One for All once again so... this must be another vestige. He faintly remembers seeing the man that first time he’d been caught up in the Quirk.

“It... hurts,” Izuku whispers, surprised when he can hear himself despite his mouth being lost in the void, “what’s happening? Why is it happening?”

“It’s manifesting,” the vestige informs calmly, eyes narrowed on the teenager, “it’s not the first time; you’ve felt it before, it’s just stronger now. More pronounced. It hurts, but it’s useful. You can train it. You can lessen the pain with practice.”

“I can train what?” Izuku questions, “please, what is happening to me!”

“A threat is coming,” the vestige offers bluntly, “what you’re feeling is my Quirk. It’s warning you now so you’re not blindsided. Please don’t brush it off— Danger Sense will help you. Any advantage as a Hero is a good advantage, so take the warning and prepare yourself.”

“W-wait, but what’s coming?” Izuku begs, “please, you’ve got to know! Is it the League? Another attack on the school? Is it Deku? The one from this reality? The me from here? Please, you’ve gotta let me know so I can help!”

The vestige is quiet for a second, thoughtful as he studies Izuku.

“It doesn’t work like that,” he finally tells the teenager. There’s a subtle sigh to the tone, almost mournful, “I’m sorry. Danger Sense isn’t a glimpse into the future, it’s a warning to be prepared for what’s to come. Only time will tell what the danger is. It will help you if you let it. My Quirk is nothing but a warning; it can’t offer you specifics.”

Izuku draws in a breath as the dark, void-like binding climbs up past his nose, inching towards his eyes. It feels like a means to the end, like when he’s completely consumed, he’ll be gone.

“What do I do?” Izuku asks desperately just as the Quirk lifts higher, “please, you must know! What can I do!”

“You don’t take it for granted,” the vestige bows his head. “You work hard and get stronger. Danger Sense is just the first of many to come. Please keep getting stronger. Keep working hard. Danger Sense will help in your fight. A sixth sense will give you an advantage if you learn to use it.”

Izuku wants to say something about not knowing how to use it. He’s so far out of his depth, and there’s apparently some sort of danger swiftly making its way towards them. The thought has another sharp strike of pain blurring his vision.

Of course the Quirk would choose to manifest a random new Quirk when Izuku is as isolated from help as he thinks he could ever be. He doesn’t even have All Might to bounce ideas off, and to look to for guidance.

“Trust Danger Sense,” the vestige offers finally, “no matter what you’re facing. Malicious intent comes in all forms, don’t forget that.”

He doesn’t get a chance to reply as he’s completely consumed.

It feels like he’s dropped right back into the real world as he’s snapped from Brainwash with a hearty shake of his shoulder. Izuku chokes on a sharp inhale as his vision clears and he’s met with Yamada-Sensei's worried expression and a crowd of wide-eyed 1-A students gathered around him.

“Midoriya,” Shinsou breathes out, shoulders slumping in relief, “what happened? I dropped my Quirk once you calmed down a bit, but you were still under the effects! What the hell was that? I’ve never had anyone react like that! How was that even possible?”

“Sorry,” Izuku whispers out as he works to orient himself. Everything had happened so fast. He takes a second to try to push down the pain in his head, there are apparently more important things to be worried about than a headache, before turning to scan over everyone. He does a silent headcount and is pleased to find that everyone appears to be okay.

If everyone is alright right now though, that just means danger is on its way. The sharp pain still hasn’t let up, but Izuku takes the warning for what it is now.

Danger is coming—

The doors to the gym slam open with enough force that the walls crack where the doors had flown back into them. “I am here!” All Might’s voice booms, and Izuku is surprised to see All Might in his One for All form. “Worry not, students, I am here to neutralize the threat!”

Izuku hears the murmurs from the students—questions of the danger, and curiosity of the fact that All Might is here when he’s not supposed to be. He hears Yamada-San trying to quiet them, and maybe even hears the man question All Might, but the sounds around him are nothing but white noise as he focuses on All Might.

Relief settles in Izuku’s stomach as another sharp pain shoots through his skull.

The feels contradict each other, but the relief he feels at seeing Yagi-San, the Number One Hero here to help outweighs the desperate ache of Danger Sense.

All Might is here.

He’ll help.

He always helps.

The teen pushes himself to his feet quickly, stepping towards All Might hurriedly, “All Might—”

“You.” Comes a dark snarl as All Might whips around to face Izuku as soon as the teen emerges from the crowd. The pain in his head digs deeper and it hits Izuku like a bus that the danger has arrived. “Vile villain, just what do you think you are doing targeting these students!”

Trust Danger Sense, no matter what you’re facing. Malicious intent comes in all forms, don’t forget that.

Izuku’s breath catches in his throat as All Might suddenly barrels at him, fast and strong and moving within the blink of an eye. Izuku is frozen in fear as the bulking Hero charges him, grabbing fistfuls of Izuku’s uniform as soon as he’s within reach and continuing forth until Izuku’s back slams into the wall.

He hears the drywall crack, and shards of crumbled wall dig uncomfortably into his spine and shoulders as he tries to process the situation. Tries to process All Might restraining him with such ferocity.

Pain creeps up his back, spine tingling at the pressure as he’s shoved back even further forcing a hole into the wall with nothing but his body and All Might’s force. This isn’t right. This isn’t All Might—

Izuku blinks owlishly, breath caught as he stares up with wide eyes at All Might’s wrathful expression.

This... this is not his All Might. This is not his beloved Yagi-San— the man who’s given him a chance at a normal life, who’d offered the chance to be a Hero. This is not All Might. Not his All Might.

How could he have forgotten such an important fact? How could he let this slip his mind. He himself might’ve momentarily forgotten how dangerous this man can be, but the Quirk, Danger Sense, hadn’t.

All Might...

The threat was All Might all along.

One for All was warning him of All Might finding him.

Oh God, All Might was going to kill him. All Might had slammed him into a wall. He might die here.

“Yagi!” Izuku hears Present Mic’s voice snap, but he can’t draw his eyes away from All Might’s angry, narrowed eyes. The Voice Hero is loud, but probably not using his Quirk, considering his ears weren’t ringing or anything, but it was definitely loud. “What the hell do you think you’re doing! Get your hands off! He’s a temporary student!”

All Might doesn’t waver in the slightest, fists curled into Izuku’s shirt and holding him against the concrete wall of the training gym. Izuku’s never felt more trapped— more scared. This is All Might. His Hero. Big, and bulking and an image Izuku was sure he’d never see again after All Might fought All for One that last time. This was the man who’d given Izuku a chance in the world.

This is All Might— but it’s not.

Izuku heart thumps heavily in his chest. It’s beating so fast, so hard, he thinks he might be having a heart attack. Or the worst adrenaline he’s ever had in his life.

He’s scared, and he hurts, and he doesn’t even think he could get his body to cooperate if he tried. He doesn’t even know how he could escape this; escape the Number One Hero. There’s just something about being pinned by his idol— All Might, the man he’s always looked up to, tense and seething, looking at Izuku like he’s the scum of the universe— that has his heart shattering in his chest.

This isn’t right.

“I won’t do that. This is a villain, Yamada,” All Might snarls, hands tightening in the fabric of Izuku’s uniform. “He infiltrated our school. He’s been playing you— tricking you. This is the villain: Deku! He must be stopped!”

His back hurts, and his head hurts and All Might had shoved him into the wall. All Might shoved him into a wall. Like... like he’s some villain. Like he’s Deku. His Hero had turned on him. His mentor looks seconds away from ending him.

Izuku’s not sure he’ll ever forget the dark look in All Might’s eyes. The dark look narrowed in on him.

For a long second, Izuku doesn’t know what to do.

He doesn’t want to fight All Might. Even if no one else around here knows about One for All and the time limit, he does. He wonders how long Togata has had the Quirk if All Might can still use it around the time limit. Had the fight against All for One gone differently here?

When had this All Might given Togata the Quirk?

Still, he’s staring One for All in the face. Yagi-san knows the Quirk. Yagi-san has had it for many years, had mastered the strength. Izuku’s just getting started. He’s no match for All Might. He’s not sure he’ll ever be a match for All Might.

He can’t just do nothing though.

Izuku lifts his own hands to All Might’s wrists, clamping around them. He can’t get any leverage, not lifted so far up off the ground. He can’t even wriggle his way out of the iron-tight grip the Pro has on him. All Might is strong. He’s dangerous.

Izuku activates One for All, barely managing to reposition his hands, lifting them up just enough so he can flick both his fingers simultaneously against the Pro’s wrists.

He hopes it doesn’t do too much damage to the retired Pro, but he’s too scatterbrained and panicked right now to even gage his own power level. He leaves that to the vestiges. Right now, all he needs to focus on is keeping out of All Might’s range and not being caught.

All Might’s grip at the attack faulters just enough to give Izuku a chance to break the contact. Without a thought, he brings his feet up and uses One for All to kick both into All Might’s chest. At the impact, the man is forced back, grip on Izuku forced away as he stumbles back.

He doesn’t linger even as panicked haze blurs his vision— adrenaline now curving his thoughts into flight. He knows he can't fight All Might. He mentally doesn’t think he ever could— not even an alternate reality All Might who wants to kill him.

He owes All Might so much.

This man is still his Hero; he’s still the only person to look at Quirkless Izuku and decide he’s worth something. He’s still the one who decided Izuku could be a Hero and helped him get there.

He doesn’t want to fight All Might.

All Might had been forced nearly halfway across the gym by the force of One for All, looking momentarily confused by the power. The confusion is gone just as fast as it appeared, and All Might is rushing back for Izuku once again.

He’s prepared this time, leaping out of the way at the last second. He uses the wall as leverage, launching himself halfway across the room. He sees 1-A out of the corner of his eye, all looking as shellshocked as Izuku feels. Present Mic looks livid, body tense like he’s trying to formulate some sort of plan. His Quirk isn’t suited for such a close fight. One wrong move and he’ll hit a student, or Izuku himself. His hands are, more or less, tied.

All Might swirls around to face Izuku again, almost like he’d expected the quick movement to come. Izuku is afraid of how quickly the Pro had figured him out; the Hero is launching right after him. Izuku feels his body tense as he launches into another leap away just as his feet hit the ground.

All Might’s eyes narrow in annoyance, but he doesn’t hesitate to launch right after him.

He’s not as fast as Izuku, which is a blessing. All Might is big, and strong. His body is dense with muscle mass when he’s in his One for All state. He’s fast, no question about that, but the bulk of him limits his speed in a way it doesn’t with Izuku.

Izuku is small and agile. He’d taken the time to learn how to use One for All to his advantage with his size. It hadn’t come naturally like it had for All Might, and probably Togata, but Izuku had made it his own. He’d absorbed every lesson taught to him— by All Might, Aizawa-Sensei, Gran Torino, and even the vestiges.

Still, even with the speed advantage, every move Izuku makes, All Might is on his heels. He didn’t become the Number One Pro for nothing. He’s smart, and fast too. Even if he can’t quite keep pace with Izuku’s frantic jumps, he’s still only one step behind him.

If he makes one wrong move, or lingers for even a second too long, he’s screwed.

All Might had played this cat and mouse game for years with villains. For longer than Izuku had even been alive. It won’t be long until the Pro is predicting Izuku before he even knows what he’s doing himself.

How long can Izuku keep this up?

How long can All Might keep this up?

Izuku pounces to the side as a punch that had been heading right for his midsection connects to the wall just behind him with a rumble of cracking drywall. Izuku forces his attention away from the debris, willing his body to follow suit and get away.

Izuku really doesn’t stand a chance, he’s starting to realize.

His heart pounds in his chest, head fuzzy with nothing more than the repeated thought of ‘get away, get away!’. He’s never been so high on adrenaline, and he’s honestly never been more scared.

All Might is still one step behind him, attention narrowed on Izuku and growing angrier by the second. Izuku can see the man snapping as he’s jerked along in an attempt to catch Izuku.

“You’re only making this worse for yourself, Deku,” the Hero sneers after what feels like far to long. It can’t have been more than a minutes or so of their chase, but Izuku still feels like he’s choking on his own lungs. The man throws his whole body into a punch that Izuku narrowly misses as he speaks, “surrender! Do not put these students lives at risk, villain— surely even you aren’t that vile!”

He can’t manage any words— despite the frantic apology that sits on the tip of his tongue.

He doesn’t know what to say. He doesn’t know how to convince the man he’s no threat. He’s not sure what he couple possibly say to get All Might to at least hesitate. Honestly, he doesn’t even know how to make his mouth form words in this moment. His dry mouth won’t move, no matter how hard he tries.

His heart beats so loud it rings in his own ears.

He hears Present Mic still, shouting at All Might, but the retired Pro is ignoring him.

All Might is entirely focused on Izuku. Laser focused.

Izuku wants to cry.

The teen knew his frantic state was going to catch up to him.

He knew it would happen sooner or later as soon as he’d flung himself into that first One for All powered leap. It had been a frantic attempt— sheer adrenaline that he’d been running off since. He’d hardly even had a second to digest waking up from Shinsou’s Quirk and process the fact he’d manifested a second Quirk.

He knows his inability to think clearly with his idol attacking him would make him slip up at some point. He’s never even had to defend like this— not himself. He’s never been so afraid in school— and he’d gone to school with Kacchan at a public junior high school.

He doesn’t even know how he trips; what he trips over.

It could’ve been his shoes, or laces, or something on the ground, or even his own feet— he doesn’t know. All he knows is one second he’s darting away from the Pro using One for All, and the next, he’s losing his footing and hitting the ground hard.

His knees hit the ground, and there’s a sharp stinging in his bandaged hand as he finds himself on his hands and knees. There’s shouting going on around him, but all he can hear is the sound of his own heart racing in his ears as a threatening shadow looms closer and closer to his hunched over form.

He can’t get up fast enough, he knows he can’t, not with how fast All Might is approaching. He can’t force himself up, but he also knows he can’t not see what’s coming. In the position he’s in now, he can’t see the Pro, can’t see what’s coming.

He knows All Might is getting closer by the second, but the thought of not knowing how close the man is, how close the danger truly is, when Izuku will be caught, settles in Izuku’s stomach like a rock.

Izuku can only turn, flopping frantically to get eyes on the Number One Pro Hero. He lands ungracefully on his butt, pushing himself back desperately by digging his heels into the ground and propelling himself back. He hardly moves, even with One for All.

All Might is seconds away from grabbing him a second time— eyes alit with anger that, before now, Izuku had only ever seen lit in the man’s eyes when facing a villain. Izuku can just stare wide-eyed as defeat and fear bind around his heart.

Things feel like they move in slow motion as All Might get closer, now just about within arm's reach. Izuku is bathed in the bulking man’s shadow. Izuku rears back with a flinch, bowing his head and lifting his arms to protect his face as one last act of defense as he prepares for impact of All Might grabbing him with a bruising grip and—

But it doesn’t come.

A hissed string of curse words do though.

Izuku peeks out between the gap between his arms after a long second of no impact, drawing in a shaky breath at the wall of ice that’s suddenly just there, no more than half an inch away from his face. It’s so cold that his breath mists up in condensation when he forces in a couple shaky breaths. “Wha—”

“Young Todoroki!” Izuku hears All Might shout, sounding appalled. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing— who you’re protecting right now!”

“That’s my friend,” Todoroki tells the Hero darkly. “You aren’t going to hurt him. I won’t let you.”

“That boy is a villain!” All Might roars, and then the ice is shattering. “He is to be arrested! For the greater good, young man!”

Izuku hears the cracking before shards of shattered ice rain over him.

He’s pushing himself up as ice crystals cling to his clothes and hair. He hears heavy footsteps, the ice crunching under someone getting very close very fast. He braces once again for impact—

“He’s not!” That’s... that’s Sero’s voice. “He’s our friend!”

Izuku winces again, looking up through slivered eyes as All Might stumbles. He’s a bit closer than he had been, so there’s no doubt that All Might had been the one charging through the shards of ice.

It takes a second to realize why he’d stumbled.

Sero’s tape is wrapped around All Might’s ankles, knotted together and keeping him in place. It’s like the teen had tied his shoelaces together. And... is that a capture weapon coiled around his hand and wrist? All Might had been aiming another punch, but not his hand his caught where he’d reared his arm back for force.

“You’re being an asshole, All Might,” Shinsou grits out between his teeth, straining against keeping All Might’s wrist drawn back. “Midoriya hasn’t done anything wrong; you literally have no reason to attack him.”

“The three of you are going to be in big trouble,” All Might growls, fighting against both the tape and the capture weapon simultaneously, “that’s not a new student, young Heroes! He’s a villain. That’s Deku— surely you must know the name! He forced me into retirement, he helped attack this school. He helped the League try to kill Aizawa, Thirteen and all you students! There is a villain in your school— in your class!”

“No, he didn’t! He didn’t do any of that!” Kaminari defends fiercely, “Midoriya is from another reality! He’s a Hero student too! Sensei vouched for him— Midoriya proved it! You’re wrong, All Might!”

“He’s been helping us since we met him!” Ashido agrees loudly, voice sharp. Izuku isn’t sure he’s ever heard that tone from Ashido. She’s usually so upbeat, so he’s a bit startled to hear the genuine anger. “If he really was Deku he would’ve done something by now! It’s been days, and all he’s done is help us with our Quirks and fighting!”

“If that’s what he’s been saying then you’ve been fooled, students! That’s absurd! This villain is not to be trusted!” All Might snarls out, like he’s not even hearing the students past his own rage, or fear, finally using enough of his strength to tug his wrist free of Shinsou’s capture weapon.

The Quirk enhanced tug has Shinsou toppling to the floor.

When his arms are free, he reaches down to tear Sero’s take off his ankles effortlessly, tossing it carelessly to the side as he scans the students before settling once again on Izuku.

“Stand down, students!” His voice booms when he continues, “he’s lying to you, young Heroes! You’re all being naïve! I don’t know who you think this boy is, but he’s not your friend! He’s using you! Tricking you! That’s what villains do!”

“He is not!” Uraraka yells back, eyes narrowed angrily.

She’s at Izuku’s side now, helping him to his feet.

He wobbles, knees unsteady as his adrenaline wavers. She’s careful of his burned hand, and even gentle when she settles a hand on his lower back to help keep him balanced. He really appreciates the help, considering he’s starting to feel like he’d been slammed into a wall now.

When he’s finally steady on his feet, Uraraka whips her angry attention back to the Number One Hero. “You don’t know anything about Midoriya, All Might!”

The Pro hasn’t made an attempt at coming any closer, even though he’s freed from his restraints.

“Totally unmanly, All Might,” Kirishima growls out angrily in agreement, also settling at Izuku’s side. Well, he’s a bit ahead of Izuku and almost blocking him from view. By Kirishima’s tense stance, he’s waiting for All Might to make a move so he can shield Izuku and Uraraka with Hardening. Izuku is oddly touched at the fact. “Midoriya hasn’t done anything wrong! You attacked unprovoked!”

“My job as a Hero is to keep students like you safe from the likes of him! Deku being within the walls of Yuuei justifies my actions to protect!” All Might snarls out in annoyance, gaze flicking around to all the students. They’re stood defiantly; some around Izuku while others have put themselves between the Pro and the teen. “I am your teacher, and a Pro Hero. Deku is a villain. You’re aiding a villain. You’re protecting a villain! This is unbecoming of future Heroes attending this school! Now, move aside and let me—”

“Yagi,” Yamada-Sensei calls the man’s attention in. His tone is dark and serious. Izuku’s never heard such a tone from the light and cheerful Pro Hero/ radio host. Not in all the years he’d been listening to Put Your Hands Up radio, and watching Present Mic fight clips on the internet. “I am also their teacher, and if you want to pursue this— to punish them for being Heroes and protecting their friend against a threat— I’m going to push right back. Remember, All Might, only one of us has a license to teach, and I suggest you not forget that. You may have been the Number One Hero, but these are my kids, ya’dig?”

“Present Mic is so cool,” Izuku hears someone whisper under their breath. He thinks it’s Jirou.

He agrees wholeheartedly.

Izuku watches with squinted eyes as Yamada-Sensei paces angrily towards the center of the gym, arms laced over his chest and jaw set in anger. He could use his Quirk now, if he needed to. The students are all crowded behind him, and it's just All Might before him.

The two adults glare at one another, but neither backs down.

“I don’t know what Deku said to you, what lies he told you, or whatever he did to convince you of his supposed innocence, Yamada, but he won’t do the same to me. I won’t be so easily fooled! That’s a villain! That boy is a villain! He works for the League! That miscreant needs to be arrested! Who knows what he’s up to! What he’s using this school— the students— for!”

“He’s not using them for anything!” Present Mic snaps back, looking more ticked off by the second, “he’s a Hero course student from another reality who had the misfortune of ending up here! He’s proven that! Multiple times! And if you’d had the common sense to ask before attacking him in a secured school, I’m sure he wouldn’t have minded showing you said proof!”

“I’m not going to ask a villain for proof that he’s not a villain!” All Might looks completely appalled at the idea. “I’m going to detain and arrest the person I suspect is here to cause harm! I’m protecting these students from Deku— you've seen what he’s capable of!”

“Suspicion isn’t permission to attack a teenager!” Present Mic snarls, “fight first, ask questions later might work for you outside these walls, but here in this school— a school, Yagi, where there are students who you carelessly put in harm’s way— that is not how we roll! Any one of these students could’ve gotten hurt in your pursuit of Midoriya! Midoriya, an innocent bystander in this reality, could’ve been hurt, and that would’ve been on you!”

“Do you even hear yourself?” All Might growls out, eyes narrowed once again on Izuku, “you’re defending a villain, Yamada! You’re putting these students at risk by protecting him! You know what he’s done!”

“You’re putting the students at risk!” the blonde snaps back, tense shoulders squaring up, “I’m defending an innocent kid who was minding his own business in class until you showed up! Forget, for a second, that this kid looks like Deku. Since he showed up at this school days ago, name one thing he’s done wrong that could warrant an attack!”

All Might paused, eyes hardening as he glares at Izuku. “He’s a villain!”

“What the hell is going on here!”

Izuku’s body physically deflates at the sound of Aizawa-Sensei's voice. He feels Uraraka’s hands settle more firmly on his arm and back as she helps keep him up.

As Izuku wilts in relief as everyone, All Might and Present Mic included, freeze in place at the sharp snap in the underground Hero’s tone. Izuku hears the anger in Aizawa-Sensei's voice, but he can just be glad that help is here.

There aren’t a lot of people who stand a chance against All Might, but Eraserhead is one of them. Should Aizawa-Sensi use his Quirk on All Might, One for All will be wiped away just like when he uses his Quirk on Izuku. As is, very few people stand a match for the retired Pro, even retired, but Eraserhead is probably top of that list.

“Aizawa-kun!” All Might’s voice booms, attention crawling from Present Mic to the angry dark-haired man stood fuming in the doors that had banged open with his arrival. “The student you’ve been looking after is not who you think, now, I need you to talk some sense into your students and Yamada-kun—”

“No, Yagi, back the hell away from my students,” Aizawa-Sensei's tone is deathly calm as he storms into the gym to join Present Mic as another barrier between the Pro and the students. “I’m not messing around, Yagi, those are my students and I’ve deemed you as a threat to their safety. Do not give me a reason to restrain you.”

All Might frowns at the very real threat, eyeing Aizawa-Sensei before lifting his hands in surrender as he goes to take a step towards the two teachers, “now wait a moment, Aizawa-kun—”

“Back. Up. You take one more step and I won’t show you the same nicety Mic did,” Aizawa-Sensei snarls, hands knotting into his capture weapon and hair lifting as he threatens his Quirk.

All Might pauses once again, hesitating as he studies Aizawa.

“You have some nerve, Yagi,” the dark-haired man hisses, “you come into my class, force yourself in around my students despite their hesitance and then you attack my personal student. You forced my Heroics class into a position they should never have been in in the first place, and you threatened an innocent minor under this school’s protection. Unacceptable.”

“Aizawa—”

“Shut up,” Sensei snaps, marching up the Number One Hero with an ounce of hesitation. The underground Pro sneers at the bulking man, jabbing a finger into his chest, “you have no right to assault a temporary student. That’s just common sense, Yagi. I don’t care who the hell you think that kid is, or who the hell you are for that matter, you have no right. You could be the Emperor of Japan for all I care; mess with those brats back there and you’re dealing with me.”

“Really, Aizawa. Surely you must be aware of who that is,” All Might snaps, “he’s a villain—”

“That boy is a Heroics student,” Aizawa-Sensei jerks a thumb over his shoulder in a broad gesture to Izuku’s general direction as he sharply cuts the Hero off. “He’s a heroics student at this school, in my class. He is from another reality and has proven that. He’s my student, and if I find out you hurt so much as a hair on his head, I’ll make you wish you’d never decided to teach at this school.”

“You’re threatening me?” All Might’s brow furrows in offense, “over him? We’ve been co-workers for months; you just met that delinquent.”

“I actually like him,” Aizawa-Sensei sneers. “Can’t say the same about an overzealous hothead who chooses to assault a minor over asking literally anyone to verify his identification. Listen now, and listen well, Yagi; that boy is going to be a Hero. He is not the villain Deku. He is my student, and as such, he is under my protection just as any of my other students are. He is a student at this school. He’s your student too; just another child you’ve taken an shady liking to.”

“What...?” All Might blinks owlishly, glancing at Izuku for just a second before looking back at the dark-haired man in front of him. “Aizawa, what do you...”

“You heard me,” Sensei hisses, jamming his finger into the man’s chest before pulling back and crossing his arms over his chest. “I don’t know what the hell you’re up to, Yagi, but I don’t like it. First Togata and now I come to find out it’s Midoriya instead where he’s from. I knew you were a secretive idiot, but if you’ve got something going on—”

“Aizawa,” comes the slightly out of breath, but stern voice of the detective from the doorway, “enough. You’ve got an audience, remember? Think about who this might affect as well before you continue. Don’t do anything brash; you’re better than this, Aizawa.”

Izuku sees Sensei’s eyes dart quickly to the doorway where the detective is standing, gaze then flicking to where the Detective had been subtly directing his own attention.

Izuku isn’t surprised when he makes eye contact with Aizawa-Sensei, but he is surprised by how the man’s shoulders wilt slightly, losing some of the anger and fight like Izuku is some sort of weakness to the man. The underground Hero’s body is still tense and unmoving despite his narrowed eyes flicking back to Detective Tsukauchi after taking a long second to study Izuku.

He does seem to take the man’s warning, mouth snapping shut as his eyes drift back to All Might. “You’re lucky I’m a better man then you are, Yagi. I’m on to you.”

Aizawa-Sensei finally steps back, hard gaze still on the retired Hero, even as he buries his hands in the pockets of his costume. Izuku sees the tension in the man’s feigned indifference, body ready to snap into action should need be.

Izuku has never felt safer.

“Tsukauchi,” All Might finally turns to his friend, tone grave and expression a grimace. “What Aizawa-San's saying... that boy... is he—”

“I think we should discuss this elsewhere,” Tsukauchi interrupts, face twisted in a scowl.

Izuku thinks All Might might see some sort of answer in the Detective’s gaze despite there being nothing in his words, since the retired Pro sucks in a sharp breath after studying the Detective, eyes darting back quickly to Izuku before returning to the Detective.

Detective Tsukauchi is quiet for a second, seeming to decide how he wants to go about the situation as law enforcement, “you went too far, and I can’t ignore that. All I’ll say now is that that boy, the one you’re looking at right now, is not the Midoriya Izuku responsible for anything Deku has done. We will be talking, Yagi. Now, you’ve caused enough problems in this class today—”

“Indeed, he has!”

Izuku jerks his attention to just behind Tsukauchi. The man in question jumps, startled, but the principal just smiles sharply up at him as he steps around the Detective. The principal takes a second to survey over the class, his teachers and the detective before his beady eyes narrow in on a sheepish and distraught looking All Might.

The students all look surprised, but Aizawa-Sensei and Yamada-Sensei don’t really.

“Oh my, Yagi-San,” Nezu tuts, strolling into the room, “you certainly caused quite the ruckus. I am quite unsettled by the display you’ve put on— you might be the retired Number One Hero, but under this roof, you’re simply one of my teachers. I don’t think I need to tell you that your actions today were not those of a teacher I want guiding the next generation of Heroes. A reprimand is in your future for how you’ve behaved, as well as for attempting to assault a student I authorized.”

“Nezu-San—”

“Not a word, Yagi-San,” Nezu shakes his head. “I see we may have made a slight miscalculated on our end. That said, that’s no excuse for your actions, Yagi-San. I am deeply disappointed. I think we’re overdue for a chat, so Yagi, Detective, if you both could be so kind as to accompany me to my office~”

“Hang on,” Sensei turns fully to the principal, “there is no way you three are sharing secrets again. I don’t know what the hell is happening, but if you think I’m going to look the other direction any longer, you’re sorely mistaken. That man put my students at risk and I want to know why.”

“And you will,” Nezu-Sensei nods in agreement, eyes flicking up to Aizawa-Sensei, “I agree, Aizawa-kun. Today should never have happened, and we all made mistakes that put our young student at risk. You will get your answers, I assure, but we must discuss first and you are not privy to that quite yet.”

Aizawa-Sensei's eyes narrow in on the principal, but Nezu-Sensei continues before the man can, “besides, right now, I think you have more pressing matters to attend to.”

At that, Sensei is turning to look at Izuku. The man’s expression softens, and Izuku distantly wonders how awful he must look hanging off of Uraraka and surrounded by 1-A students that would warrant the teacher’s entire aura to soften. For a long second, the homeroom teacher just looks around at his students before finally blowing out an almost defeated breath.

“Fine,” the underground Hero huffs without looking away from Izuku, “just get him out of here. This ordeal has taken up enough of my student’s afternoon.”

“Of course,” Nezu bows his head lightly, “let’s get the students back on schedule. And if you still want to chat later, you and Midoriya-kun should make your way to my office after school. We should be finished by then and we can all have a nice chat over tea.”

“Yeah, alright.” Sensei sighs, glancing back at Izuku, “if Midoriya wants to, at least. It is his decision if he wants to be in the same room as Yagi after everything.”

Izuku opens his mouth to assure he very much wants to but shuts his mouth just as fast when he realizes his tongue is tied and no words are coming out. His heart hammers in his chest still, only now starting to settle. He looks away sharply instead of trying to speak again.

“Yes, of course,” Nezu agrees once again, his own eyes flicking over to Izuku as his whiskers arch forwards in interest. “I trust you’ll redirect your class and tend to our guest, yes? As for us, Detective, Yagi, shall we? We have a lot to discuss.”

Izuku watches out of the corner of his eye as Yagi-San hurries to join Nezu who’d turned on his heels and marched towards the door where the Detective is still standing. The three of them file out of the room silently.

For a second, nothing moves in the gym, and then, “alright, 1-A,” Sensei calls attention, “at ease. I know that was a lot to handle. You all did well in protecting my personal student and keeping your wits about you whilst doing so. I understand it was hard having someone you admire being the cause of the problem, but you handled it well. Rest assured that All Might will get penalized for what he did today.”

“He just went right for Midoriya,” Jirou tells the man, voice breathy, “I’ve never seen All Might so mad.”

“He didn’t even really say anything,” Yaoyorozu adds quietly, “just rushed Midoriya as soon as he saw him. It was terrifying— I can’t imagine being the one he was after.”

Izuku shudders at the thought, not saying anything. Uraraka shoots him a sympathetic frown as she shifts just enough so she’s almost hugging him. He appreciates the kind gesture.

“All Might reacted with his heart instead of his head,” Sensei tells the class calmly, drawing Izuku’s attention back, “it was unprofessional and unethical, but it was a very human reaction. His intent was to protect you students from what he thought was a threat.”

No one says anything, but Izuku can see them all processing the man’s words.

Sensei turns back to them, scanning the group before continuing as he makes his way towards Izuku, “let this be a lesson to you all; when you let yourself get overwhelmed in the field or while doing Hero work, you start making irrational decisions that can and will hurt people. All Might jumped the gun on this, and didn’t bother verifying anything before rushing in. That is not how a Hero should act, and it doesn’t follow protocol. Learn from someone else’s mistake and try to keep a level head.”

“All Might definitely didn’t have a level head,” Kaminari’s nose scrunches up, “he doesn’t even know Midoriya, hardly even said a word to him.”

“And he was so rough, instantly,” Uraraka adds, “isn’t Deku Quirkless? Midoriya held his own, but All Might really could’ve hurt someone without a Quirk. He didn’t even seem to care...”

“He could’ve,” Yamada-Sensei sighs. “He was under the impression that Midoriya was Deku, but that was still an overpowered attack aimed for someone registered as Quirkless. He definitely could’ve really hurt him. Midoriya and Deku both.”

“It was just so unmanly of All Might,” Kirishima huffs, “are you okay, Mido-bro?”

“Y-yeah,” Izuku finally croaks out, wincing at the strain in his own voice, “just... a bit sore. I’m fine.”

“As expected,” Iida crosses his arms over his chest, “All Might used excessive force on you. I only left to get Sensei after he’s already slammed you into the wall. We were worried he could’ve really hurt you.”

“He really was rough,” Ashido nods in agreement, looking slightly spooked still, “I think anyone could tell that much by the Midoriya-shaped hole in the wall.”

Izuku refuses to look over at the hole he knows is there. His back aches at the reminder, but he just stares down at his own shoes. His bandaged hand throbs, and his spine tingles in that unpleasant way, but at least Danger Sense has calmed down. There’s nothing more than a slight pulse of pain that Izuku assumes is from being slammed into the wall.

“Alright, alright,” Sensei finally draws attention back. Izuku slowly drags his attention to the man, finding Sensei at Present Mic’s side. They’d obviously been talking. “I know that was a whole ordeal, but you all still need to work on training. I’m going to leave you in Mic’s capable hands this afternoon. You all know what you’re supposed to be working on.”

There’s a chorus of ‘Yes, Sensei’ from all the students.

Izuku is still a little out of it as he tries to come down from the adrenaline slowly fading. He startles when a hand lands on his shoulder, but relaxes completely when he whips his gaze around to find Sensei.

“Do you need to go to Recovery Girl?”

Izuku hesitates, looking around himself to gage how much he can really say without worrying the students, but is surprised to realize the rest of the students have already spread out to work on training. He hadn’t even noticed Uraraka leaving his side.

“No,” Izuku finally forces out, “I’m... okay. Just stiff, I guess. I’m more so just... trying to wrap my head around this. A-around that, um, All Might attacking like that.”

“Let me look at your hand?” Sensei asks softly, already holding his hand out for Izuku to set his own into. Izuku blinks in confusion at the odd request, and Sensei snorts a huff of laughter when he notices, “Mic said you landed pretty hard on it. I just want to make sure you didn’t tear the wound open or anything.”

Izuku can’t argue with that, so he offers the bandaged hand for his teacher to inspect. There’s no trace of any blood, and as much as it hurts after he’d fallen on it, he can tell it’s just impact irritation. His whole body is basically impact irritation at this point.

Izuku doesn’t even realize he’s spacing out until, “what do you need, Midoriya?”

“H-huh?”

“Right now,” the man continues softly, “what do you need right now? To think, or to calm down. Anything that you think might help you. That was a lot to handle. I know you regard All Might highly, and I can’t even begin to imagine what this did to that respect. Anything you need, Kid.”

“I’d...” Izuku swallows, squeezing his eyes shut when overwhelmed tears threaten to fall, “I’d really just like to go out for a while if we can... um, g-get off campus for a bit, you know? Get... get away from everything... B-but we don’t have to—”

“Okay,” Sensei agrees without hesitation. “Have anywhere in mind?”

“Actually...” Izuku bites his lip, looking back down at his shoes, “y-yes, um, I do.”

“Alright then,” Sensei nods, throwing an arm gently over Izuku’s shoulders and helping keep him balanced. “We should probably talk anyways, and I doubt you’d want to do that here. There’s some stuff we need to discuss before anything else.”

“R-right,” Izuku nods shyly.

Chapter Text

Shota doesn’t think much about where he’s going with the kid. They manage to leave campus with little hassle, the gates opening easily when Shota scans his staff ID.

He ushers the kid out, and Midoriya moves quickly, trusting Shota to follow, while also managing to keep close to Shota. There’s an odd pressure in his chest at the thought of how the kid is hesitant to put too much distance between them. Yagi can be terrifying when he wants to be, he wasn’t the Number One Hero for numerous years by luck.

So, he can’t blame the kid.

And honestly, it eases his mind a bit to have the student within sight after that debacle.

Shota is still angry. He’s angry that Midoriya wasn’t safe in the school, even though he should‘ve been, and he’s angry that Yagi had tried to attack the kid in the first place. He’s angry he wasn’t there for Midoriya when he should’ve been, and he’s angry that Tsukauchi and Nezu had suspected this might’ve happened and let it happen anyways.

They’d known since that very first day that Yagi might have an ill reaction to Midoriya, and they’d still decided to forgo even warning the Number One Hero that the kid wasn’t a threat to anyone with the school walls.

He doesn’t know why the principal and detective were so insistent that Yagi not know about Midoriya’s presence at the school, but he’s angry it had led to this. That a student ended up being attacked within their school. That a temporary student had been terrified and feared for his life right under Shota’s nose.

That Nezu and Tsukauchi had considered this happening a likely possibility from the very start, and still chose the low road when it came to Midoriya’s safety.

Shota’s not sure he’s ever been so pissed off with his boss.

The thing is, Yagi may be a limelight meathead at times, but he’s still a sensible man. He’s reasonable. They could’ve convinced Yagi that Midoriya wasn’t Deku— that he’s just an innocent Heroics student who unfortunately wound up in their reality, and that he wasn’t the threat that had fed villains confidential, career damaging intel.

He knows, logically, Yagi can’t be blamed completely for this.

Unlike the teachers when Midoriya had been introduced to them, Yagi didn’t have someone vouching for Midoriya’s innocence. He’d heard and acted on the spot; probably didn’t even take a second to think before acting.

Shota would bet Togata had accidentally let slip— it's not like they told the student body to keep quiet about it, exposing the fact that there is a secret, just makes it easier for said secret to get out. The warning had come to just the 1-A students and the staff. Togata wouldn’t have known.

And really, it was brutish, and uncalled for; probably terrifying for Midoriya considering the definite Hero worship the kid has, but it was also a very Hero— human— reaction to finding out someone who you know is a threat is in what’s deemed a safe space. They’d all be a bit brash if they suspected Deku was in the school— if he was with the students, unknown.

He really didn’t know better, and they all know that initial reaction of help and protect is what makes Heroes Heroes, but that doesn’t excuse the blatant dismissal of another Pro Hero and a whole class of first year students vouching for the kid.

Like when Shota had first introduced Midoriya to the staff, and despite his presence, his word, they’d still turned on Midoriya right before his eyes. There was no excusing that.

Yagi didn’t have that initially, but he still should’ve at least given pause when Hizashi defended the kid.

He should’ve considered what was being said.

Ignoring your coworkers, fellow Heroes, goes against everything they’re trying to teach these students. Heroics is not a solo career, no matter how easy All Might made it look over the years. You will be working with other Heroes. You may even work with Heroes you don’t like. But there’s still that level of professional trust in the career. If there’s no trust in the field, things can go south very fast.

There is a reason Shota does so many team activities with his students, mixing and matching skill levels and vastly incompatible Quirks, and to know that the example All Might was setting for them, even unintentionally in the heat of the moment, was to act first and ignore everyone else, teammates included? It fills him with a burning rage.

If they walk into the world of Heroics with that attitude, they’re as good as dead. It doesn’t matter what course of Heroics they choose— limelight, underground, rescue— they’re all team efforts when push comes to shove.

They’re not All Might, and his means won’t help your average Hero.

He should’ve stopped and considered why Hizashi and Shota’s class were fighting back for Midoriya’s sake. They’re good kids, they have good reasons for what they do, even if they’re idiots at times. Yagi knows the students; teaches the Foundational Hero Studies some afternoons. He should’ve acknowledged them as Heroes-in-training.

He knows, the more he turns everything over in his head, that Yagi isn’t entirely to blame, but that doesn’t mean he can’t be pissed off at the situation itself. That he can’t be pissed off with Nezu, and Tsukauchi, and All Might, and even himself.

It’s a shitty situation all around, and they’re supposed to be the good guys. After everything they’d done to the poor kid, meaning to or not, Shota can’t help but feel like a pretty shitty Hero.

Shota’s thoughts swing back to the conversation he had with Tsukauchi just minutes before Iida had burst into the conference room. All Might was tied to this somehow, deeper than Shota thought. Midoriya, Yagi, Nezu, Tsukauchi and even Togata were all linked together, and he has no idea why.

He doesn't understand this secrecy. He doesn’t understand the hesitance. He doesn’t understand what role Yagi plays in all this— his mentor role to two very different students in two different realities.

He was missing something still.

This ran deeper than he thought, and now there’s two students and more people involved too.

Shota brushes off the thought for now, following along just a step behind Midoriya.

They arrive at the train station after a while of walking.

He’s not used to public transportation as much anymore, not since he and Hizashi got their car, and started working at the school where Nezu had company cars on hand should they need it. Not to mention how the dorms have made it so they rarely need to leave campus unless they’re doing Hero work, and even then, he’s faster on rooftops and traversing through the forest surrounding the school than he is in a car.

He’s reminded how much he hates public transportation as he pays the fee for himself after Midoriya scans his student ID without a thought, like it’s second nature. He only seems to realize what he’d done when he’d granted access through the gate, staring down at his own ID card suspiciously.

It miraculously works here, despite being from another reality entirely. Public transportation security must not be as fastidious as Yuuei’s security system.

Shota follows the boy onto the train silently, trying to ignore the calm way Midoriya guides. There’s just something that doesn’t sit about how quiet and reserved the kid is being. Midoriya hadn’t been overly talkative, not since Shota met him, at least, but this was another level entirely.

A thoughtfulness that worried Shota.

Still, the man keeps quiet. Midoriya seems to know what he’s doing— the ride is practiced and familiar to him. Another instance of their realities being so similar that Midoriya falls into routine.

They pass a couple stops, and still the kid doesn’t say anything. He stares out the window, expression thoughtful, but eyes almost thoughtless. His hands are laced together in his lap, squeezing so tight that Shota fears he might cut off his own circulation.

Worry churns in Shota’s stomach.

Had they broken the kid? Was All Might that tipping point in Midoriya’s little world? It was probably terrifying. Midoriya had told him he looks up to All Might— to have the person you consider a mentor, your Hero, attack like that?

A gentle tug on his sleeve draws Shota from his thoughts, and when he glances over at the kid, he finds Midoriya on his feet. The train has stopped, and the doors are opening.

Shota doesn’t hesitate to rise to his feet and follow the boy out.

Shota takes a second to scan the station when they’re off the train, but there’s barely a second to do so as Midoriya heads towards the exit, almost as if he’s moving on autopilot.

They walk some more— down a couple streets, and then onto a boardwalk by the ocean. It takes a second too long for Shota to finally realize where they are, and he does so just as a heap of towering junk comes into view.

Dagobah beach?

Confusion swirls in his chest, but he doesn’t question it. Just keeps pace with his student and follows the kid down the stairs leading to the ocean. There isn’t much sand that isn’t littered with trash or stacked with weathered down appliances and tossed away furniture.

The place really is a dump.

They settle at the edge of the dump site, just three steps of white sand leading away from the stairs until it transitions swiftly into what looks like endless refuse. Kitchen appliances, trash bags, old mattresses and outdated electronics. It looks worse than it had the last time he’d come here, which had honestly been years ago.

It’s common for people to completely ignore the once beautiful beach. Unless you were coming to dump something you no longer want, people tend to avoid the eyesore.

Why would the kid want to come here of all places?

Shota turns his head to study Midoriya.

The boy is staring at the piles of waste with an unreadable expression. He looks... sad, but there’s also a knowing, almost assuming look in his eyes. Shota wonders if the beach is any different in Midoriya’s reality.

Midoriya carries on, unfazed, and Shota can just follow a step or so behind him. He calls out a halfhearted warning for the kid to be careful— a dump like this isn't really the place for someone with a serious, susceptible to infection wound to be hanging out, but if Midoriya considers this place comforting for whatever reason, who is Shota to deny that.

Midoriya waves him off, not unkindly, with his uninjured hand as he sidesteps half buried metals, and a microwave that has the window smashed out of it. Shota hopes the kid doesn’t find any glass or anything hiding in the sand as he follows after him.

Steel-toe work boots are much sturdier than Midoriya’s sneakers.

Towards the middle of the heap is where Midoriya finally settles.

There’s a refrigerator that’s been dumped on its side, half buried in sand and slanted slightly. Midoriya doesn’t seem bothered as he easily scooches his way onto it, shifting around until he’s comfortable before letting his gaze crawl in the direction of the ocean.

Shota hesitates for just a second before joining the kid.

There’s a perfect gap between a pile of old wood that looks like it might’ve been a dining set at some point, and a couple waterlogged boxes that Shota doesn’t even want to know what the contents are. It’s almost like a window to the ocean.

It really is beautiful— Shota remembers the beach being clean and clear when he was just a child. A gentle breeze brushes over his face, and he can almost ignore the scent of landfill as he watches the waves crash against the shore. The water sparkles as the waves ripple.

Beside him, Midoriya seems mesmerized, leaning back on his hands and staring out to sea. It’s probably the calmest Shota had seen the kid since meeting him, so there must be something about this place that draws Midoriya in despite what the beach has become.

Shota himself stays hunched over, elbows on his knees and hands laced together and hanging between his knees. The man lets the silence settle, following Midoriya’s lead and just watching the waves. He can’t say it’s not calming, even surrounded by old junk and trash.

“So?” Shota finally calls attention after a few peaceful minutes. The boy’s eyes linger on the ocean for a moment, like he’s trying to pull his gaze away, before his eyes flick in Shota’s direction, “what is it about this place? Not the most... outwardly tranquil, I guess.”

Midoriya considers his words before looking back at the ocean with a small smile, “you’re right.”

He looks thoughtful once again.

Shota has half a mind to speak again, but he has a feeling Midoriya isn’t quite done yet.

His patience is rewarded.

“My Dagobah beach looked just like this one,” the boy confides, not drawing his gaze away from the ocean, “it was cleaned and it’s just... it’s so beautiful. My mom never liked me coming here before, always thought it was dangerous but after... after it was cleaned up, it just became my favorite, you know? I have a lot of good memories here.”

Midoriya draws in a breath, finally glancing back at Shota, “it’s... unsettling. To see it like this again. I put in so much effort cleaning it up and All Might he... w-well. None of that happened here. Seeing the beach back to how it was, like it was never even cleaned, like I never put in the time, and effort— it feels like it was all just a figment of my imagination or something. Like it never really happened, when it did.”

“You cleaned this place up?” Shota finds himself asking, glancing around and trying to imagine the beach without all the piles of junk and litter. It’s hard. Even when he was a small child, the beach had never been particularly clean. It had looked far better, less of a dump, but never the kind of beach you’d spend the day at during break.

Midoriya offers a tiny smile, nodding, “it was training,” he says. “You remember how I told you my All Might helped me train to get into Yuuei? Well,” Midoriya bites his bottom lip, gesturing to the junk around them, “this was training. I had ten months to clean this place up in order to prove that I was serious about training and becoming a Hero.”

Imagining Midoriya, who, if Shota is putting his puzzle pieces together correctly, would’ve been Quirkless at the time, clearing the beach single handedly, is harder than imagining the beach cleared.

He means nothing by it, of course, it’s just... he’s seen Midoriya’s junior high school photo now. The kid is short, and scrawny; probably wouldn’t have weighed more than a hundred pounds soaking wet. Ten months before the new school year started, Midoriya and Deku would’ve been the same, Shota assumes. Midoriya has muscle mass now, but back then, he was just skin and bones. How had he moved some of this stuff alone? They’re sitting on a refrigerator—

“It was hard,” Midoriya offers, almost as if he can read Shota’s thoughts. “All Might pushed me hard, but I think I needed that. All my life I was told I couldn’t be a Hero. My mom cried and apologized when we found out I supposedly Quirkless— that it was unlikely I’d ever get a Quirk. Kids at school weren’t very nice, and you know about Kacchan already.”

Midoriya pauses, attention dragging away from the ocean as he angles his head up and stares into the clouded over sky, “All Might was the first person to look at me, Quirkless and... and different, and believe in me. He pushed me hard, but I prevailed. I cleaned this beach single handedly, and I proved myself to him and... and to me. I could be a Hero. If I could clean this place up alone, then I could find a way to be a Hero. I was so proud of this place.”

Shota swallows, looking back out towards the ocean.

This must be jarring to the kid. He’d put in so much time and effort and, in this reality, that’s all gone. His accomplishment is gone before his eyes. “I’m sorry, Kid.”

“It’s okay,” Midoriya laughs humorlessly, wiping at his eyes with the heels of his palms. “It’s not your fault I’m here, Sensei. It’s just a lot to come to terms with, you know? I know this isn’t my reality. My beach is still clean, and my... my All Might is there. My Sensei too, and my friends, but you’re all just so familiar. It’s all the same, but it’s not. Sometimes... sometimes I think I’m back, and this is just a nightmare— n-no offense— but then I come face to face with All Might, or I... I see this place and I know I’m really here.”

Shota bites his tongue to keep from apologizing again.

He knows it’s not his fault, but that doesn’t mean the kid doesn’t deserve empathy for his situation.

It’s, frankly, pretty fucked up.

His accomplishments are gone.

His friendships are gone.

Even his connection to his mother, who Shota has gathered he’s very close with just from how Midoriya reacted to Bakugou telling him about her in this reality, is nonexistent.

The bonds he’d built with his 1-A class, teachers and even other Pro Heroes he would’ve met through the school year are all gone. Midoriya has nothing in this reality, as accepting and understanding of his situation as they’ve been. They’re still not who Midoriya knows at the end of the day.

No matter how hard Shota tries, or what he does, when all is said and done, the poor kid is still isolated in a reality where he’s public enemy number one. He’s a Heroics student whose image of Hero had been swapped to Villain in a matter of seconds. That’s enough to give anyone emotional whiplash.

This is probably so detrimental to his mental health, and it has most definitely affected longstanding relationships he’s built up in his reality. Shota feels bad for Midoriya’s reality’s All Might whose counterpart had scared the absolute shit out of this kid today. There’s bound to be some negative aftereffect of that, as miniscule as it might end up being.

Shota just wishes they could do right by this kid, at least once.

When the man finally manages to drag himself from his thoughts, releasing his bottom lip from where he’d been thoughtlessly worrying it between his teeth, he’s unsurprised to find Midoriya still staring out at sea, a distance in his gaze that has Shota’s stomach tightening with knots.

Midoriya is just a kid.

“You’re allowed to not be alright, Problem Child,” Shota tells the kid softly.

Midoriya tenses for just a moment, and Shota thinks maybe he’d said the wrong thing, but then Midoriya’s shoulders are slumping and he’s biting down hard on his bottom lip. He reaches up again and scrubs harder at his eyes, sniffling as he does so.

“I... was so scared,” the boy finally croaks out, eyes watery and raw from the rubbing. One is more so than the other, the cotton of the bandage on his hand irritating his skin. “I know what All Might is capable of. If he really tried to hurt me, he could’ve...”

He looks more childlike than Shota thinks he’s ever seen a student in his class look.

The fear in the boy’s eyes is so innocent that it makes Shota’s stomach churn.

He knows, logically, that fifteen, sixteen, seventeen and even eighteen-year-olds are still children, in the grand scheme of things, but seeing this now, watching this boy fall apart before his eyes, really makes them seem so young.

Shota’s heart breaks for the boy, “I know,” he consoles gently, “it’s alright. I’m sorry I wasn’t there to stop it. And I’m sorry we let this happen to you. We should’ve told Yagi upfront— I shouldn’t have let Nezu and Tsukauchi make that decision alone; especially not after I saw how the teachers reacted. It was only logical All Might might’ve as well, and that’s not fair to you. We failed you today.”

“Not your fault,” the boy sniffles, rubbing at his eyes again. “I... I know why they did it, Sensei. I... probably would’ve agreed too, a-at first. I just... I thought they would’ve told him at some point, you know? We don’t know how long I’ll be here, and I could understand keeping All Might in the dark if I was only here for a day or two, it would’ve been easier if that was the case, but we’re encroaching on a week now and that’s... that’s a long time to keep a secret. To expect a secret to be kept.”

“We should’ve told him,” Shota agrees tightly, pushing down the disappointment he feels in himself. He should’ve told Yagi, no matter what the rat and Tsukauchi thought. No one is blame free in this; no one except Midoriya who is just a kid looking to them for guidance. “We put you in danger by keeping this from him.”

Midoriya shakes his head, dropping his attention down to his lap.

“I...” he swallows, staring down at his hands, “I was just so scared, Sensei. It’s all just so- so overwhelming. Everything is just happening all at once, and it feels like I can’t catch my breath. I-I mean, the headache was bad enough, it really hurt— b-but to find out that it’s more and that they-they chose now for the Quirk to manifest something new when I’m alone and I don’t even have anyone to talk to about it because they’re— they don’t even really exist... and-and All Might’s here, but he’s not mine here and I just— I can’t—”

“Midoriya,” Shota turns to the boy, shifting enough so that he can set a reassuring hand on the teen’s back, even as his mind whirrs as he tries to figure out what the hell the kid’s talking about. He forces his attention away from what the kid said, and entirely onto the kid himself who is teetering towards a panic attack. “Hey. Hey, shh, take a breath, kid. You’re okay, alright?”

Shota’s head is spinning as he guides the child through some deep breathing, appreciating the moment of just breathing himself as his mind analyzes everything Midoriya had just laid out for him. It’s a lot.

Midoriya stumbles his way through the breathing exercises, and Shota doesn’t do anything else besides annunciate his own deep breathing until the kid’s panic-stuttered breaths even out and his eyes are no longer wide and wild with panic.

Midoriya wilts where he’s sitting, drawing his legs up and hugging them to his chest. His chin settles on the gap between his knees and his eyes are carefully trained on the sea. The ocean breeze sweeps over them, tousling the boy’s curls until his eyes are hidden behind the curtain of green.

“Sorry,” the kid whispers finally, “I know that doesn’t make any sense to you— a-and it’s not even your problem anyways just—”

“I don’t think we’re on the same page here, Kid,” Shota cuts the teen off, not unkindly, before the boy can spiral. Midoriya stiffens slightly but doesn’t look over. “When I agreed to keeping an eye on you, I agreed to everything. Your health. Your safety. Your problems. I agreed to this, the same way I agreed to watching over my students. To protect them; to keep them safe. I have no doubts that you’re one of my students in your reality. Not a single one.

“And to hear you say that— that whatever you’re going through; this, whatever this is that’s pushing you to your breaking point, isn’t my problem too? I gotta tell you, Kid, if you honestly believe that then I think your Aizawa’s messed up somewhere.”

“It’s not that!” Midoriya whips towards him frantically. Shota just raises an eyebrow as the kid hugs his knees tighter, eyes wide. “He didn’t! He never messed up! I trust him—I-I trust you, it’s just—ah, it really isn’t your problem, I mean, I was just v-venting! Sometimes I do that, I mean, I really didn’t mean to say most of that out loud anyways! It’s fine— I'm fine!”

“You weren't venting, you were panicking,” Shota corrects gently, unsure if the kid is just making excuses, or if he honestly thinks he was just venting. “There’s a difference. A pretty big one, Kid. Look, I know you’re not where you belong, but shouldering this all alone won’t do you any favors. I know you don’t have what you need here, but bottling this stuff up until you burst isn’t healthy.”

Midoriya fiddles with his fingers, blatantly refusing to make eye contact.

Shota sighs, running his fingers through his hair. “Listen, you are my student. You’re my ward. In this reality, and in your own. Your problems are my problems, no matter what they are. Big or small. Anything that’s affecting you like this, this negatively, should not be shouldered alone, kid. I can help—I'm here to help you learn, and grow, and to help you when you need it.”

Midoriya is quiet for a long second.

Shota is ready to take the loss and accept that there’s some things Midoriya isn’t willing to talk about in this reality when the kid finally blows out a nervous breath, turning towards Shota slightly.

He looks like he wants to say something, but he still hesitates, until: “My Quirk is... w-well, um, it’s bigger than I initially thought it was. It’s, um, more, I guess.”

“More?” Shota cocks his head to the side, frowning thoughtfully. “What do you mean?”

“There’s more to it,” Midoriya offers quietly, “it’s, um, it’s called Superpower. I don’t know if I told you that already. It’s a strength enhancer, really, but that’s a very loose classification. It was so hard to use at first, and even still is, and because of that, I was never really able to determine what it was... capable of, y’know? Not completely, anyway. I think that... w-well, I know actually, that those headaches I was having were... um, they were a new branch of my Quirk.”

“A new manifestation branching off an original Quirk?” Shota bites back the surprise, keeping his tone neutral. This is surprising. And it also sounds like another certain someone Shota knows. “Is it similar to the original Quirk?”

“No,” Midoriya shakes his hand, “completely different.”

“Alright. Explain it to me,” Shota says calmly, “it has to do with the headache, right? How? What does it do? Walk me through it, Midoriya.”

“It’s a sort of... sixth sense,” Midoriya tells him thoughtfully. “A warning. It was alerting me to danger. It’s called Danger Sense— o-or, um, that’s what I’m going to call it, I think. The problem is, I don’t know what the danger is, just that it’s there. It hurt so bad before... right before, and then it just sorta stopped?”

“And it manifested yesterday?” Shota cocks his head, trying to understand. This is completely bizarre. This shouldn’t be possible. Not like this. “That was the first time you felt it, at least, right? In Recovery Girl’s office? What was the danger then? I assume it was alerting you to All Might this afternoon.”

“I don’t know.” Midoriya draws in a shaky breath, nodding slightly. “Yesterday, in Recovery Girl’s office, the headache was just a flicker of pain compared to today. It was quick, different from today. I don’t know what happened. There wasn’t really any danger yesterday— not that I know of. Maybe it sensed something I didn’t? Quirks are amazing like that.”

Midoriya drags his hands down his face, glaring down at his hands when they drop onto his ankles, “today though... it was alerting me to All Might. It was sharp and persistent; I’ve never hurt like that before. He was the danger, and it... threw me for a loop. I know he said that I should— a-ah, um, I just wasn’t expecting something like this to happen here. I don’t have my mentor here, and he always knows how to help; he understands this better than I do. I just... I feel so alone, Sensei.”

Shota is quiet for a second, thoughtful. He turns Midoriya’s explanation over in his mind before leaning back on his hands as he crosses one ankle over the other and looks out towards the ocean.

“Do you think All Might might be able to help you with this?” Shota finds himself asking against his better judgment. He’s not one to beat around the bush, especially when it’s something as sensitive as this.

Midoriya still startles, slowly turning to study the teacher uncertainly.

Shota clicks his tongue fondly, lulling his head in the kid’s direction, “he is your mentor, isn’t he? I’m not an idiot, Problem Child, and you’re not as discreet as you think you are.”

It takes another second for the surprise to drain out of Midoriya’s expression, and then the boy is frowning thoughtfully, “I actually don’t... know. I don’t even really know if my All Might would know what’s going on. It’s...” the boy’s teeth sink into his bottom lip, “it’s anomalous.”

“It is,” Shota can agree to that without knowing any more detail. He thinks he’s hit the limit with what Midoriya is willing to share, and honestly, he’d gotten more than he thought he was going to. Yet he still has so many unanswered questions. “But we’ll figure it out, Problem Child.”

This upcoming meeting with Nezu, Yagi and Tsukauchi had better answer most of his questions, or he’s going to be a force to be reckoned with. And on that note... “How’re you feeling about the meeting this afternoon? The one with All Might?”

Midoriya hesitates, blowing out a breath, “well... I feel a lot better knowing you’re going to be there too. I know All Might didn’t really mean it, you know? It was instinct, but I’m still...”

“Nervous,” Shota fills in quietly, only looking away when the boy offers a tiny, sheepish nod. “And you’re allowed to be. Trust me though, if that man lays a single hand on you after everything that’s happened, I won’t hesitate to break it. Without his Quirk, Yagi is just like any other overconfident idiot.”

“That’s a little harsh, Sensei,” Midoriya huffs out, but Shota counts the tiny smile on the kid’s face as a win.

“Yeah, well, if he can't keep his hands to himself, he deserves it.”

Midoriya snickers softly, letting his gaze drift back to the ocean.

“Sensei...” Shota cranes his neck to glance over at the kid, even though Midoriya isn’t looking at him. “This meeting... do you know anything about what this might be about? With All Might, the detective... principal Nezu?”

Shota isn’t sure if the kid is asking for his own sake, or for Shota’s. Neither feels particularly better than the other, but he has an awful feeling it’s the latter, which makes him uncomfortable in a way he can’t describe. “I have an idea.”

Midoriya nods, more to himself than anything else, Shota thinks.

“I don’t want to be the one to tell you,” Midoriya offers quietly, “it’s not my place— not here especially. I know you’re smart, Sensei, and I know you’ve already been questioning things but... just be prepared. It’s surprising. Try’n keep an open mind about it, alright? It’s easier that way.”

“Why does it feel like you’re trying to tell me I’m not going to like the outcome of this meeting,” Shota sighs out drily. He’d already had a bad feeling about it, but this is worse. Now he has no idea what to expect of this meeting. “We should be getting back. Classes will be finishing up soon, and we still have a train to catch. You ready to go?”

“Yeah,” Midoriya nods, slipping off the fridge. “I’d like to change my clothes; we sorta smell like we’ve been sitting in a landfill.”

“We have been sitting in a landfill,” Shota quips with a snort of laughter. “We can stop by the dorms before heading to Nezu’s office. I’m sure 1-A would like to see you as well, and I’d like to commend them for their actions today. It was ballsy to stand up to All Might for your sake, it’s always nice to be proven right when it comes to student’s potential. I’m impressed.”

“I really am thankful,” Midoriya bows his head, “if it wasn’t for the class, I don’t know what would’ve happened. Iida going for help, and Todoroki using his ice to shield me. Shinsou and Sero restraining All Might and everyone putting themselves on the line for me... Everyone did exactly the right thing, I think.”

“They did well,” Shota finds himself muttering, ignoring the flurry of pride in his chest. “Now, c’mon.”

They trek through the sand and junk towards the stairs that led up to the boardwalk. When he chances a glance back at the kid, he can’t help but feel relieved at how much better the kid looks after calming down. Hopefully Midoriya won’t have any problems during the meeting, because if he ends up crying, Shota just might punch someone in that room.

They’re just reaching the top of the stairs, stepping onto the boardwalk when it happens.

Shota is a couple steps ahead of Midoriya, being faster on stairs with his longer legs.

He sees the stranger approaching before they’re even close, attention focused on a book in their hands instead of where they’re walking. Shota sidesteps out of the way easily, glancing back as the short figure buried in a sweatshirt probably two sizes to big for the small frame passes by without problem.

Midoriya isn’t as lucky— the two of them colliding gracelessly.

Neither falls, thankfully, but the books the hooded figure had been holding and reading end up toppling to the ground. Shota cocks his head as he turns fully to watch the interaction.

They hadn’t been lined up to hit one another— Shota had been the one that would’ve collided with the figure had he not moved, whereas Midoriya had been more to Shota’s side— and it’s... almost like the figure had veered in his path to collide with Midoriya. Intentionally.

That doesn’t make much sense though.

“Ah, sorry,” Midoriya yelps after steadying his balance.

He’s quick to crouch down, just as the other figure had done, helping pick up the fallen books on the ground. There’s just two, so they each manage to grab one.

“I must not have been...” Midoriya trails off, staring down at the journal in his hands for a second before blinking up at the figure, “...looking where I was going.”

The figure stands first, and Midoriya is quick to rise after them, looking down at the journal for another long second before wordlessly holding the book he’d picked up out for the other take.

“Sorry again,” Midoriya offers a halfhearted smile. It doesn’t reach his eyes, Shota can see as much, and there’s something a bit off about the way Midoriya is looking at the hooded figure.

“’s fine,” the hooded figure, a boy, Shota thinks, sounding not much older than Midoriya replies tightly. There’s something about the rough, nasally sounding voice that comes off as... fake. “You're one of those Yuuei students, aren’t you?”

“O-oh, um,” Midoriya blinks. The other kid must glance down at Midoriya’s uniform in explanation, as the teen’s gaze drops down to look at his uniform as well before returning his attention to the other, offering yet another bashful, yet hesitant smile, “right. Um, y-yeah. Yeah. Yuuei student. The uniform. Right.”

Shota squints at the exchange as the figure finally takes the book back.

Midoriya’s hands fall to his sides as the hooded boy hugs the two notebooks to his chest, tucking his hand into the pouch pocket of the sweatshirt he wears. They stare at each other uncertainly, almost observing one another. Once again, Shota has a bad feeling settling in his stomach, but Midoriya isn’t outwardly expressing any discomfort besides the hesitance, so he pushes the feeling down and watches intently.

He can’t come to the kid’s defense if Midoriya doesn’t need him there. And the stranger hasn’t done anything suspicious, as weird as he seems to be.

Still, this staring contest they’re having has him on edge. Is Midoriya seeing something Shota isn’t?

“Kid?” Shota calls, tucking his hands into his pockets casually, “we’ll miss the train.”

“Ah, uh, r-right!”

“Thank you,” the hood figure finally says, pulling his hand from his pocket and clasping it onto Midoriya’s hand in an unexpected handshake. Midoriya looks surprised by the contact, staring wide-eyed down at their hands, before lifting his gaze to look at the hooded boy.

The green-haired teen furrows his brow as he opens his mouth to speak, but ultimately just shuts his mouth and tilts his head suspiciously. The hooded boy clears his throat, continuing casually, “for the help picking up my books. You didn’t have to— I ran into you. I wasn’t paying attention.”

“Oh,” Midoriya squints, eyes flicking down once again to their clasped hands. “Anytime.”

Shota sees the hooded figure nod, shifting slightly to the side and almost blocking his vision of their still interlocked hands. The Hero can just barely make out how the figure pulls his hand away slowly, curling his palm up along the student’s hand so Midoriya’s fingers clasp into a loose fist.

“It’s nice to meet a Yuuei student. Good luck, I hear it’s hard for people like us.”

The figure doesn’t wait for a reply, pulling away from Midoriya completely and hurrying away from them before Midoriya or Shota can get a word in. He disappears down a path leading towards the streets before the man can so much as blink, let alone get a good look at the kid.

“Midoriya?” Shota doesn’t hesitate to focus his attention on his student, all while watching the figure disappear from sight out of the corner of his eye. He’d never been more thankful to have the ability to split his attention that came with both Heroics and teaching. “What was that all about? Was he familiar to you? From your reality?”

“Uh,” Midoriya’s startled expression melts away to confusion, “I don’t know, Sensei. I don’t... think so? Not familiar, but... I don’t know. I just got this weird feeling.”

Midoriya’s hand tightens into an actual fist as he slips both hands into the pockets of his slacks. His shoulders are tense, and there’s a distant look in the kid’s eyes, but he doesn’t say anything.

The boy turns slowly to look in the direction the kid had left in, but he’s long gone by now. Midoriya stares for a long second, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth before looking back at Shota.

The kid hesitates, “that was weird but... Danger Sense didn’t go off.”

Shota frowns at that.

“I suppose he didn’t mean any harm then,” the Hero says stiffly, still glaring in the direction the teen had disappeared. Maybe he didn’t mean harm, but he was still strange. “Yuuei does get a lot of attention, and the uniform is recognizable to the general public. The interaction didn’t seem malicious, as odd as it was.”

“No,” Midoriya agrees distantly, “it didn’t feel malicious.”

Midoriya glances back at the path, almost in disbelief, staring hard for another long second before thoughtfully dropping his gaze down to his shoes.

His frown deepens as he stares down, before he’s lifting his attention back to the man.

All uncertainty is gone from his expression and that familiar half-smile Shota had grown used to seeing on the kid’s face is back. The boy tugs his hands out of his pockets as he finally continues on to join Shota at his side again.

“At least it was a positive interaction this time,” the teen mumbles lightly, his tone coming out breathy, and amused, but Shota doesn’t find the situation humorous at all.

The Hero bites his tongue, forcing himself to resume his walking as Midoriya pulls ahead with a couple quick paces forwards. They fall into step, side by side, as they head back towards the train station.

“That doesn’t make me feel any better about any of this,” Shota finally sighs tiredly, allowing the topic to drop.

Shota silently turns the interaction between Midoriya and the stranger over in his head as they walk, deciding with a grimace that something about it doesn’t sit right with him. He doesn’t know what the hell that was all about, but it was definitely weird.

That seems to be a theme.

A short train ride and a bit of a walk has Izuku and Sensei returning back to campus.

His teacher had been worryingly quiet after the odd run in with that stranger, but Izuku can’t really say much considering he’d been just as quiet, and just as thoughtful.

Izuku hadn’t gotten a good look at the teen, but there was something about him that had Izuku feeling a little uneasy. It wasn’t danger, per se, he hadn’t felt even a whisper of pain in his head, so he had to assume there was no malicious intent coming from the stranger.

Danger Sense was new to him, but if he’d learned anything thus far, it was to trust the new Quirk’s instinct. Malicious intent really does come in all forms, and he’s glad that’s the wisdom the vestige had thought to impart to him.

It was still odd though.

The boy follows his teacher up the steps leading to the 1-A dorms, expression blank as he moves on autopilot, thoughts lost in that strange encounter, and the upcoming meeting. He doesn’t know which one he should be more worried about.

He’s expecting to find 1-A kids waiting for them when they finally pull the doors open and step into the genkan, but he’s not expecting Togata-Senpai to be waiting awkwardly in the common area. Izuku freezes, thoughts stalling in his head as he scans the upperclassman uncertainly.

“You’re okay!” The older teen breathes out, standing from the couch and making his way swiftly to where Izuku had stopped. “I was so worried after I heard what happened!”

Izuku flounders for a second, glancing back at Sensei, but the man is just surveying over the two students with an unreadable expression. He makes no move to intervene or say anything. Izuku frowns to himself, “what?”

“I’m so sorry,” Togata arches into a bow, body tense. Izuku takes a step back in surprise. “It was my fault, Midoriya-kun, I just mentioned that I met you— I didn’t think he’d react like that... I’m sorry. I thought he knew about Aizawa-Sensei’s personal student. Everyone else seemed to so I just, I assumed and I didn’t think and because of that, he went after you. He hurt you, and I didn’t even know until a student in 1-B was talking about it after school. I had a really bad feeling about it, so I asked some of the 1-A students and...”

Togata bites hard at his bottom lip, looking away sharply, “he could’ve... I would’ve helped you... He just rushed off; you know? I thought it might be Hero business, I let him go without question because I thought someone needed him, you know? I can’t even wrap my head around the fact that he left training in such a hurry to attack you, and I didn’t even hear about it until after classes. I’ve been waiting here to make sure you’re alright.”

“It’s not your fault,” Izuku shuffles awkwardly in place.

He doesn't know what to do with his senpai bowed over, expressing genuine apology.

It’s weird, especially since Izuku knows Togata had no ill intentions when mentioning him. “Please don’t apologize. We... knew from the beginning that All Might might have a problem with me. It’s not your fault, what he did, and... I’m fine now.”

Togata straightens up, mouth pulled downward in a frown as he studies Izuku, “still,” the older boy breathes out, “it should’ve never happened. He didn’t even ask any questions, just tensed up when I mentioned your name, and that you were Sensei’s personal student— I swear I was just telling him how nice you were, but he just sorta lost it. I never would’ve mentioned you if I’d known.”

“I know,” Izuku offers a sympathetic half-smile, “please don’t blame yourself. I don’t blame you. I don’t even... I don’t blame All Might either. And besides some bruises, I’m completely fine.”

Sensei scoffs behind Izuku, but the boy refuses to look back over his shoulder.

“It’s not your fault,” Sensei adds sharply, “if anything, it’s the adult who’re to blame, Togata. Like Midoriya said, we suspected Yagi might have a problem with Midoriya, and we still chose to keep his presence here from him. I explicitly told my class to keep this quiet, but logically, we couldn’t expect the entire student body to be on the same page.”

“I still feel bad,” Togata tells him, looking genuinely upset. “Midoriya got hurt because of me. I was the one who told All Might about him. He could’ve really hurt him...”

“But he didn’t,” Izuku tries to console his senpai. “If All Might really wanted to hurt me, he would've. He could’ve killed me and after everything Deku did... I don’t know, I don’t think he has a right to harm Deku, but I think he has a right to be angry... Besides, I had 1-A and Present Mic-Sensei protecting me too. I really don’t blame you at all, Senpai.”

Togata’s face scrunches up uncomfortably, and Aizawa-Sensei clenches his jaw and looks away, but Izuku knows that’s the truth of the matter. And they both seem to know that as well. As hard as All Might had gone, he’d still used restraint.

All Might obviously still has One for All in this reality— he'd come into the gym in his One for All form and had the speed and power to boot— it’s there, even if Izuku doesn’t know the degree of it the man has left. All Might had done so much with just those remaining embers of the Quirk after he’d passed it down to Izuku, but here, he doesn’t know the timeline for the Quirk. It’s obvious Togata has it now, but when had it been passed over? How had that changed things?

Still, Izuku knows All Might could’ve killed him. He’d held back.

The more he turns that attack over in his head, the more he knows All Might hadn’t been aiming to incapacitate, as much as being shoved into a wall had hurt, and as scary as it was. He could’ve easily taken Izuku out, even if it was a One for All versus One for All battle.

All Might is still superior. He still has something Izuku doesn’t— age and experience.

Izuku bites at his bottom lip, “do you... know why All Might was so upset, Togata-senpai?”

The blonde pauses before offering a careful nod, “you’re Deku from another reality, right? After I asked some of the 1-A students about the attack, I asked why he’d ever do something like that to someone like you, and they explained it to me. I really had no idea. If I’d have known, I wouldn’t have mentioned you. He has a grudge against Deku, and it’s... warranted, I think, but just because you and Deku are the same people, doesn’t mean you’re the same, you know?”

Togata hesitates, “I think he had good reason to do what he did, but that doesn’t make it alright. Deku works with the League and... they’re capable of some pretty scary stuff.”

“I know,” Izuku breathes out, bowing his head. “I understand.”

Togata’s eyebrows furrow as he studies Izuku carefully.

“Well, glad some of us are on the same page,” Sensei sighs drily, “the rest of us will just struggle along.”

Izuku feels his cheeks heat up, and Togata offers a sheepish laugh, “uhm, sorry, Sensei. Just—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Sensei waves him off, “secrets, I get it. The both of you have been trained well, but I will be getting answers. I assume they’ll be coming directly from the source. Now, off you go, Problem Child. Change your clothes before we head to Nezu’s office.”

“Wait, you guys are heading there too?” Togata cocks his head in surprise. “I was summoned by Nezu-Sensei. I was worried I’d have to head over there without making sure Midoriya-kun was okay first. I... I’m not too sure what this’ll be about, but if you two are going too, I’m pretty curious now...”

“You’re going to this meeting?” Sensei narrows his eyes but doesn’t look as surprised as Izuku thinks he should look. Izuku himself has assumed All Might successor in this reality might be invited to be a part of the talk. Togata hesitates before nodding uncertainly. “Figures. This just keeps getting better and better. It’s about time they laid everything out on the table. Now, off you go, Problem Child. Togata, we’ll walk over together as a group, wait here.”

“Yes, Sensei,” the two teens chime together before hurrying to do as directed. Izuku heads towards the stairs, and Togata plops back down on the couch, expression a little tighter then when they’d first met up with the man.

Izuku wonders where the class is, but then he remembers it’s just after school at this point. Most of them will still be out of the dorms for a while, whether they’re studying, training, or just hanging out. Mic-Sensei also isn’t in the apartment upstairs, so Izuku quickly sneaks off into the spare room he’d been staying in to change his clothes.

The walk to the main school building is quiet.

Izuku and Togata are on either side of Sensei, and the man is just as quiet as he leads them along. His shoulders are slumped, and his hands nestled in the pockets of his costume, but his eyes are sharp and thoughtful.

Izuku glances briefly at his upperclassman, noting the uncertainty in his senpai’s expression.

Izuku is sure he’d have the same expression if the roles were reversed, and he was walking into a meeting where the secret of the insanely powerful Quirk he possesses was revealed to his teacher.

His Aizawa-Sensei no less.

Izuku will admit he’s scared about how this will go down.

He’s scared to face All Might, and he’s scared for everything to be laid out before them. He’s a little scared of how Sensei is going to react, and he’s also a bit scared for Togata to learn they share a Quirk. He’s an outsider here and learning that he’s the chosen one in another reality might be overwhelming for his teacher, upperclassman and All Might himself.

Then there’s the fact that Izuku isn’t even sure how he’d react if he was in Togata’s shoes. If a Shigaraki from another reality turned up in their own, wielding the power of One for All and claiming to be a Hero? That would be hard to process, let alone accept completely. He’s a villain here— he's a villain who has All Might’s powerful, transferrable Quirk.

At least Nezu and the detective already know, already believe. Izuku isn’t sure what he’d do if he had to explain this to everyone. And both the detective and principal Nezu can be scary; he’s not sure he’d even have the gull to explain it to everyone if the situation was different.

A different scary than All Might and Aizawa-Sensei. More intense, less familiar.

Still, there’s something unsettling about One for All being shared, even if, technically, this isn’t about Izuku’s One for All, nor is it really his All Might, Sensei, Principal Nezu or detective Tsukauchi.

He’s scared, but... he’s also curious. It’s... different here.

He might even get some more answers about Deku.

Things still aren’t adding up right— as far as he knows, he and Deku lived the same life up until a certain point. And he’s steadily gathered the similarities up until he meets the Number One Pro.

Sensei leads them into the school, and before long they arrive outside Principal Nezu’s office. Izuku bites his lip as he thinks back to that first day here, after that terrible, terrible stay at the police station while they sorted everything out.

It doesn’t feel any less scary standing outside Nezu’s office.

Sensei knocks on the door and, within a second, it’s pulled open and a pleased looking Principal Nezu quirks his head at them, “perfect timing, Aizawa-kun! And it looks like you brought the rest of our party with you as well, excellent!”

The rodent gestures them in, and Izuku is only mildly surprised to find a table with six chairs taking up the main space of the office. There hadn’t been a table the last time he’d been in the office, so it must be just for this. He assumes Nezu-Sensei would have a soundproof office, with all the confidential meetings the rodent must have as a Pro Hero, and a principal of an elite Hero school.

“I have tea prepared,” the rodent tells them with a toothy smile, “please, take a seat. Anywhere you feel comfortable. We have a lot to discuss! We’re all familiar with one another, yes?”

Izuku sees the detective and All Might sitting at the table already.

All Might is on one side, and Tsukauchi has taken the head of the table at All Might’s side. Togata surveys over the room, glancing back at Izuku before moving and settling himself at All Might’s side, and Nezu is already hoisting himself into the seat across from Tsukauchi, which is already stacked with books so he’s at their height.

Aizawa-Sensei lingers beside Izuku, and it takes an embarrassingly long second to realize the man is giving him the chance to pick the seat that he’s most comfortable in.

Neither is much better than the other, but Principal Nezu had threatened to send him to Tartarus, which had scared him more so than he’d like to admit, so Izuku awkwardly takes the seat beside the man.

Sensei settles easily in the last chair, and Izuku is more relieved than he’d care to admit having Sensei so close.

He’s unsettled; he doesn’t need to look up to know Yagi-San's gaze is on him, and that the detective is watching him so very intently. He can feel the sympathy coming off of Togata in waves, and Sensei’s frame at his side is tense and impatient.

It’s silent for another long second as Nezu settles into his seat gesturing to the teapot in the middle of the table. Yagi-san stands, pouring everyone a cup, but no one but Nezu himself really drinks it.

“There’s a lot we should discuss,” the rodent starts them off casually, flicking beady black eyes around at every sitting at the table. “Yagi-san? Would you like to start us off?”

The retired Pro hesitates, glancing at Izuku guiltily before clearing his throat.

“First,” Yagi-San starts, lacing his fingers together nervously, “I owe you an apology, Midoriya-kun. I acted rashly after I heard you were in the school, and I didn’t stop to consider anything past the fact. I’m a Hero, first and foremost, so hearing that... that Midoriya Izuku, Deku, was in this school, so close to our students... I reacted.”

Izuku shifts hesitantly, refusing to make eye contact. He bites down on his lip as he tries to figure out what to say. He really has no idea what to say. How to act. “I... don’t blame you.”

“You scared the shit out of him, Yagi,” Sensei grumbles out lowly, leaning back against the backrest of his chair as he narrows the blonde Pro a dark look.

All Might shifts, like Aizawa-Sensei scares him, looking down at his own hands shamefully.

“I know,” All Might admits quietly, “and I apologize for that. I was ill informed. When I heard the name Midoriya Izuku my intention was to protect this school and the students. I take responsibility for how I acted, and I assure you I’ve gotten a stern talking to from both Nezu-san and Detective Tsukauchi. I really am sorry, young Midoriya.”

Izuku almost wants to cry as the familiar nickname comes from the alternate All Might. He’d missed it. Missed hearing it and missed being close to All Might. He’d missed having a confidant and having someone to talk to about the Quirk. He’s missed All Might.

“I can vouch for the fact that Yagi-san has indeed been reprimanded and will be doing intensive revision of how his reaction was unacceptable for a school setting with me personally,” Nezu says calmly, sipping at his tea.

Izuku draws in an unsteady breath, turning the apology over in his head.

“We...” he starts slowly, swallowing down his nerves as he refuses to look up from his lap, “we can’t put the entire blame on All Might.”

The silence that follows the statement has Izuku’s heart thrumming in his chest. Anxiety curls in his chest, and he fiddles with his fingers as the room remains quiet. He can feel everyone’s gaze on him.

“Moving before you realize it is what makes you a good Hero,” Izuku tells the room quietly, still refusing to lift his gaze. He doesn’t want to see anyone’s faces. “All Might thought I was a danger to the class— to the entire school— and he was just making sure no one got hurt. He was protecting everyone. We can’t blame him for that. It would be hypocritical. Everyone was wary of me when I first got here, we can’t fault All Might for doing the same thing...”

The silence rings. It’s loud in Izuku’s ears, but he knows he can’t leave it there.

He draws in another shaky breath, clearing his throat as he finally lifts his eyes to look at All Might, “All Might didn’t know. And... and I’m not trying to blame anyone else, I know this decision wasn’t taken lightly, but it’s not fair of us to hold him to a different standard when he reacted just the same as anyone else. I can’t blame All Might for a Hero’s, no, a human’s reaction.”

“Young man...” Yagi is the first to find his voice, breathy and confused. There’s a deep, shameful frown on the man’s face. “You’re... defending me? After everything I did in the gym—”

“He does that,” Aizawa-Sensei sighs heavily, leaning back in his chair and massaging at his eyes like this conversation is already giving him a headache. He looks so tired. “I’m still trying to wrap my head around it too.”

“He has a point,” Tsukauchi breathes out, finally tearing his eyes off of Izuku and looking around the room at his colleagues. “We own Midoriya an apology too. Yagi reacted poorly, but it wasn't completely unjustified.”

“Of course,” Nezu nods seriously, “Quirks like this, intricate and powerful enough to send someone to another reality, are almost unheard of. Yet, to have the sheer power for the effects to last after a couple days... We’d hoped the boy would’ve been gone before this point. It really is unfortunate.”

“That’s not an apology,” Aizawa-Sensei huffs tiredly, shooting Nezu-Sensei a bland look.

The rodent lets out a toothy smile, “of course, Aizawa-kun. I do apologize, Midoriya-kun. A great deal of this situation falls onto the shoulders of myself and the Detective. We made the decision that ultimately led to this, so we’re the two who should take the blame for this outcome.”

“I’m sorry, Midoriya,” Tsukauchi adds gently from Izuku’s side. “Apologies won’t make it better, but we are sorry. We made a decision that turned out to be the wrong one, and that affected you.”

“I don’t blame anyone,” Izuku tells them awkwardly, “it’s unfortunate, but I can see this from everyone’s angle. All Might was protecting the school, Principal Nezu and Detective Tsukauchi were protecting All Might, Togata, and me by extension. Aizawa-Sensei, you were just trying to keep me safe by following their lead.”

“Fat lot of good that did you,” Sensei snorts out humorlessly. “You might not blame us, but we’re all to blame. We could’ve handled this better from the start, and at the end of the day, we didn’t. That’s on us.”

“You know... you don’t have to just accept bad things happening like this. You can be upset, and angry and hurt.”

Izuku looks up to Togata, across the table, in surprise.

The older boy is watching him with a frown, “I don’t... exactly understand yet, but I know enough to know that you got hurt by this. I got hurt by this. I didn’t know it was a secret, and I didn’t know All Might would react like he did. It feels like it’s my fault Midoriya got hurt in the first place, and that doesn’t feel fair when I was just talking about the nice new student I met.”

“I truly am sorry,” All Might bows his head, “to both young Midoriya, and you as well, young Togata. I used your ease around me, our personal relationship, in a way I never should’ve. That hurt you. The fault lies in me, my boy, not you. You didn’t know. We’ve kept the name Midoriya Izuku out of the media for a reason.”

“What is that reason?” Togata looked around at the Pros. Izuku swallows, letting his gaze drop back to his lap. “If you all knew Midoriya was Deku, and that Deku is Midoriya Izuku, why wouldn’t you tell anyone? Shouldn’t everyone know? He has a name—surely there’s an actual photo of him somewhere-!”

Tsukauchi hesitates for just a second, “Midoriya Izuku is... dead.”

“Dead?” Togata breathes out, confused gaze sweeping towards the other student before turning back to the Pros and Detective.

“Pronounced dead,” Tsukauchi mends slowly, like the words taste unpleasant. “He supposedly committed suicide. Over a year ago. No body was found. He left a note identifying himself and that’s enough for the department to close his case.”

“They didn’t look for him?” Togata asks desperately, scanning the room. Izuku bows his head down further, breath getting caught in his throat. He’d probably have choked on that breath too, if Aizawa-Sensei's hand hadn’t of settled, grounding, on his knee under the table. “Isn’t that protocol? Search and rescue? What if he survived? If he left a note, and no body was recovered that means he must’ve... why wouldn’t...?”

“I’m afraid... the world is still largely discriminative towards the Quirkless, my boy.”

“Quirkless?” Togata breaths out, eyes shooting back to Izuku. The younger curls in further into himself, and not even Sensei’s light hand on his knee helps the drowning feeling. “Midoriya has a Quirk. He told me about it: a strength enhancer that—”

“Wait...” Izuku bows his head further down, squeezing his eyes shut as Togata pauses. He hears Togata’s sharp inhale of breath and knows the boy has made the connection. “How is that even possible?”

“We were just as surprised,” Nezu tells the young man solemnly. “Alas, from the first moment I truly believed Midoriya-kun's story, he confided in me. It was a trust I shouldn’t have been privy to after everything in that interrogation room, and yet I was. And it is quite difficult to bypass a Quirk like the Detective’s, especially in an emotional state.”

“When the hell did he do that?” Aizawa-Sensei rears back, looking suspiciously at Nezu. “I was with him the whole time, and you haven’t once been alone with the kid. I’d know if he did something like that.”

“Something as simple as a nod, Aizawa-kun, can say a lot.”

Sensei narrows his eyes, stewing silently as he eyes his boss.

“So it’s... really true then?” Togata turns wide eyes to All Might, “he’s just like...”

“Indeed, my boy,” All Might sighs tiredly. “I’ll admit, that’s part of the reason why I couldn’t see past my pursuit of Midoriya. A diagnosed Quirkless boy having a Quirk after working with the League? That made him even more dangerous. It clouded my judgement. Not to mention it’s seemingly impossible for him to also possess...”

All Might tapers off hesitantly, glancing over at Izuku.

Izuku draws in a deep breath.

He hadn’t even thought of that. If Deku worked with the League— with All for One— there is a chance he might’ve been... given a Quirk. The thought makes him sick to his stomach. He can’t imagine ever taking a Quirk like that, but he’d really not Deku, is he?

“If someone doesn’t tell me what the hell is going on, I am going to flip this table,” Sensei snarls in annoyance, straightening up and glaring around the table. He carefully avoids looking at Izuku and Togata both, saving the malice in his gaze just for the adults. “Enough being cryptic. If you think you’re getting out of this without telling me what involves these two students and All Might, you’re sorely mistaken. This has gone on long enough, and I’m tired of being left in the dark.”

“Aizawa-san,” All Might clears his throat, “it’s nothing personal towards you, it’s just—”

“If you tell me it’s a secret one more time, and don’t tell me what this secret entails, Yagi, I will jump over this table and throttle you with my capture weapon, consequences be damned.”

“Sensei!” Izuku squeaks out, mortified.

Yagi-san inches back minutely, away from dark-haired man, frowning hard at Aizawa-Sensei like he’s just seconds away from making good of the promise. It’s weird seeing someone as mighty as All Might cowering back from Aizawa-Sensei. Just proves how terrifying his homeroom teacher really can be.

Izuku is glad to have the man on his side, instead of against him.

“Now, now,” Nezu chimes in sternly, yet chipper, “enough of that, Aizawa-kun. I understand you’re upset, but the threat of bodily harm is not very professional. Now, you’re here because I’m going to insist you be accredited to this. You must understand, Aizawa-kun, that what will be said in this office is highly confidential. There is good reason why you, and everyone else, have been kept in the dark for so long, but after today, I believe you have a right to know, if only for Midoriya-kun's sake.”

Sensei watches principal Nezu skeptically for a long second before shifting his attention to All Might, “I want to hear it from you. Everything just keeps leading back to you, All Might.”

Yagi-san is quiet for a long second, glancing first to Tsukauchi, then to Togata, and finally to Izuku. The man draws in a breath, “do you remember... All for One, Aizawa-san? Or, perhaps know of, is a better word.”

“All for One?” the man narrows his eyes suspiciously, “the villain you arrested after Bakugou’s kidnapping? Who worked with the League? Of course. It was televised on national news. He’s in Tartarus, isn’t he? What’s he got to do with this?”

“All for One has a very unique— a very powerful— Quirk, Aizawa-san. His villainous reign far predates us all. He’s... been at large for a long time, under my nose, really. He’s powerful, Aizawa-san, and he’s dangerous.”

Sensei leans back in his chair thoughtfully, expression still pinched with annoyance, “okay, what does that have to do with this? With these kids? What’s his Quirk, exactly?”

Yagi-san winces, glancing helplessly at both Nezu and Tsukauchi.

“All for One can take and give Quirks.”

Sensei pauses, staring hard at All Might, “what?”

“You heard me, Aizawa-san,” Yagi-san sighs. “He can steal Quirks. He takes them, and he can either keep them for himself, or he can give them away at will. The recipient can be willing or... unwilling. He is the worst of the worst, Aizawa-san, dangerous beyond what you can imagine.”

“Ragdoll’s Quirk was gone when she was recovered,” Sensei breathes out, eyes wide. “He took her Quirk? He can use Search now?”

“Yes,” Yagi bows his head solemnly. “Assuming he kept it for himself. You must understand, Aizawa-san, it was believed All for One was dead. I fought him years ago and he should’ve died. I truly believed he was dead. I was wrong. All for One is dangerous, Aizawa, this secret is dangerous. We kept you in the dark because letting you in, puts you at risk.”

“So you wouldn’t tell us, the teachers at this school, Pro Heroes, because it’s dangerous,” Sensei’s surprise quickly shifts to narrowed anger, “but you told these two kids? You put them in danger, told them this secret. What the hell is wrong with you people? This is something you refuse to tell Pros, but you’ve told schoolboys?”

“Aizawa,” Tsukauchi warns lightly.

“Don’t Aizawa me, Tsukauchi,” Sensei snaps his attention to the other man before whipping back to address All Might. “Why do these two students know this highly confidential, dangerous secret? What aren’t you telling me? Why are they involved in all this—”

The man cuts himself off, blinking owlishly. He's quiet for a long second.

“You have a Quirk,” Sensei says blandly, turning oh so slowly towards Izuku. “How did you get a Quirk in your reality?”

Izuku feels dizzy all of a sudden, lungs stuttering to a stop as panic wells in his chest.

Sensei doesn’t think he... that he was actually working with—

“Aizawa,” Yagi-san snaps from across the table, but Izuku can’t tear his gaze away from his own clenched fists, “be suspicious of me all you want, but don’t turn on that boy beside you. If he possesses One for All, he’s trustworthy: I gave him that Quirk.”

“You what?” Sensei’s voice drops low, eyes narrowing to slits as he watches the retired Pro. “That’s impossible.”

“W-well, um, m-my All Might did,” Izuku finally manages to wheeze out. “He... he gave it to me. At the start of the school year. R-right before the entrance exam. That’s... that’s how I got into Yuuei.”

“Our All Might gave me our reality’s One for All,” Togata adds cautiously, studying both Izuku and Aizawa. He draws in a breath and continues despite the hesitance in his eyes. “Right after the student from 1-A was kidnapped and Yagi-san fought All for One again.”

“That’s impossible—” Sensei pauses, blinks, looks to Izuku, then Togata, then back to Izuku where his eyes narrow slightly, “unless... unless it’s not.”

“It’s not,” Yagi breathes out, “One for All is... transferrable. It’s a power stockpile that was first forced upon All for One’s Quirkless brother. The brother unknowingly had a transference Quirk with no other use but to transfer. The two Quirks merged into what’s now known as One for All.

“It’s been shared and strengthened over time. The first person cultivates the power, and then passes it on to another. The next refines it and passes it on again. It’s transferrable, but only through transferred DNA, and unlike All for One’s Quirk, it can only be given and taken willingly. There were eight wielders of the Quirk before Togata and Midoriya. I was the eighth, and I passed it on when the time came, in both realities apparently.”

“You’re being serious,” Sensei mutters, glancing around the table and studying everyone carefully. His voice comes out breathy and in disbelief. “It... that makes sense.”

Izuku nods slowly when Sensei’s gaze settles on him.

“This Quirk,” Sensei starts hesitantly, gaze back on All Might after a silent second where everyone lets the conversation sink in. “One for All, what does it stockpile?”

All Might blinks, frowning thoughtfully, “it stockpiles power. Surely, you’ve seen both young Togata and young Midoriya use the power, Aizawa-san. They’ve each used it differently, like every other to possess the Quirk, but it’s the same energy stockpile.”

“Yes, but could it stockpile... Quirks?” Sensei edges carefully, eyes refined and narrowed. He doesn’t give anything away, but Izuku instantly know what the man is hinting towards.

“Quirks?” Yagi-san frowns thoughtfully. “Like... of the past users? Not that I know of. As far as I’ve heard, at least. My mentor didn’t mention anything of the sort when she explained the Quirk to me, and I never felt anything of the sort either.”

The man pauses, quiet for another second as he cocks his head in thought, “I suppose it’s possible.”

Izuku draws in a shaky breath. It most definitely is possible.

There’s an uncomfortable silence, one that carries on for far too long in Izuku’s opinion. He refuses to look up, but he can feel eyes on him. It makes him want to squirm.

Finally, All Might breaks the tense silence, “...why?”

“I...” Izuku swallows, drawing in another shaky breath, “I manifested another one.”

It feels wrong telling so many people, but not his own All Might. It feels wrong saying this when Aizawa-Sensei is settled at his side, thoughtful and observant and no doubt putting more together than they think he is.

“How do you know?” Yagi-san asks carefully, but not blatantly shutting the idea down.

Izuku winces at it still, wanting to avoid eye contact, but knowing he can’t. He swallows down the fear and looks up, catching All Might’s gaze and holding eye contact, “he told me.”

“Who?” This question comes from Tsukauchi, low and intense. Maybe even a little bit suspicious. Izuku can’t hold that against him, this sounds suspicious too. He knows All Might has never had the same kind of interactions with the Quirk, and it’s possible neither has Togata.

“One of the vestiges,” Izuku forces out, keeping eye contact with All Might and scanning the surprise in the man’s face. “I... I don’t know which one. He didn’t give me a name. He just... he told what it was. What was happening. Danger Sense. That’s the Quirk. It... alerted me to All Might’s presence this afternoon. Warned me his intent was malicious...”

“Malicious,” Yagi-san repeats quietly, shamefully. He shakes himself from the shame, gaze back on Izuku, “I’ve never heard of Danger Sense. That predates my mentor, and... and her mentor as well. You’ve interacted with these vestiges?”

“I have,” Izuku admits.

“How?” This comes from Tsukauchi once again.

“I don’t really know,” Izuku tells them honestly. “The first time it happened was outside the Quirk.”

Izuku sees the way Yagi mouths the words ‘outside the Quirk’ to himself like he can’t believe it.

It really does sound insane, Izuku knows. His All Might had agreed.

“It was during the sports festival,” Izuku continues. “When I was fighting Shinsou. He managed to get me under his Quirk. I saw All Might in the doorway leading to the arena but... there were others behind him. Shadowy figures. Seven of them, and you, all watching me. It was like I had more power after that, that’s how I managed to break out of Shinsou’s Quirk. That was the first time they showed themselves, I guess.”

“Tsukauchi?” Nezu glances quickly at the detective, gaze calculating and curious.

“True,” the detective admits breathlessly. “All of it.”

“I see,” Nezu breathes out, whiskers arching forwards in interest. “And this new interaction with them, Midoriya-kun? The one inside the One for All?”

Izuku thinks back to what he can remember of it. “Shinsou was involved again,” he tells them. “Danger Sense comes through as a sharp headache and it really hurts. I guess I was pulling at my hair or doing something else to distract myself— I don’t really remember. But it was after he had me under his Quirk that I... I don’t know? I went there?”

“Went where?” Sensei asks at Izuku’s side.

“Into the Quirk,” he whispers uncertainly. “I think, at least. I was bound in it. It, the, um, the Quirk, I think, held me in place and he was there. Danger Sense’s previous owner. My mouth was covered by the Quirk, and I don’t know if I was supposed to be able to talk, but I could. He told me what the pain was, and that practice would help me master Danger Sense. I wasn’t there long. When I was shaken from Shinsou’s Quirk, I was a bit disoriented and then All Might— well.”

He doesn’t think anyone needs the reminder of All Might showing up.

No one says anything for a long second.

Izuku glances around subtly, but everyone just looks like they’re trying to process this.

All Might looks the most perplexed by this, and Togata looks spooked.

Izuku understands— until now they’d believed the Quirk to be one thing. Now, there’s a possibility it could be several things. Izuku would be spooked by that too, if it hadn’t happened to him first.

Nezu and Tsukauchi both look to be processing this too, and even Sensei is silent at Izuku’s side. He stares at the wall over Togata's head, tapping one finger on the edge of the table.

“Yagi-san,” Izuku looks up to Togata when he hears the older boy’s voice, “will I... I mean, none of that’s happened to me. Will...”

“I don’t know,” the man drags his palms down his face. “It’s possible, I assume, if it’s happening to young Midoriya, but... this truly is the first I’m hearing of this. I never experienced anything quite like this either in all the years I had the Quirk, and Sensei... she never mentioned it either. We truly know so little about One for All. I don’t know why, or how, or if it’ll happen to you as well.”

“It could very well be Midoriya’s reality,” Nezu adds thoughtfully. “There’s no guarantee that Togata-kun will manifest the Quirk quite like Midoriya-kun. We’ve seen the Quirk act differently in different hands. He surfaced from a completely different world, despite the similarities. Let’s not forget that. One for All could be different.”

“You did say each wielder refines it,” Tsukauchi reminds. “Midoriya has had the Quirk longer than Togata. He’s had more practice with it.”

“I’ve had the most practice, and nothing of the sort has happened,” Yagi-san shrugs. “I don’t think we can follow logic like that. One for All isn’t this, nor that. It’s constantly getting stronger and growing. That’s why it’s the only thing that I believe will be able to stop All for One.”

“Maybe it just likes the kid?” Sensei huffs out. “Maybe we’re looking for answers that don’t exist. I mean, maybe he needs them. It’s not like he randomly manifested it— it manifested for a reason. And even then, he was still blindsided by this reality. Now... Yagi, did you go to Recovery Girl’s office yesterday?”

“Yesterday?” the man furrows his brow, “oh, yes, I did. It was late afternoon, she asked to see me to check on my injury. After passing on One for All to young Togata, it’s been acting up— but how did you...”

“That’s when the kid first had the headache. Just for a second, there and then gone as we waited for her to clear him to leave,” Sensei explains, carding his fingers through his hair. “Did you turn around, or get distracted or something?”

Yagi frowns, “...I forgot my shoulder bag in the staff office.”

“So, you went back to get it.” Aizawa scrunches his nose up, “it’s a damn good thing we left when we did yesterday. We would’ve run into you in the hall. Midoriya wouldn’t have been the only one with a headache had that interaction happened.”

“So it was a brief warning?” Nezu cocks his head at Aizawa-Sensei before glancing over at Izuku like he’s a complex puzzle that needs to be solved. “Fascinating.”

“I...” Togata calls attention to himself, looking a bit pale, “I’m just, aha, a bit overwhelmed by all this. Could I be... excused please? I’d like to think.”

“Of course, Togata-kun,” Nezu grants. “You’re excused. We understand this is a lot to process, so please, come to any one of us if you’d like to talk about it.”

“Thank you, Sir,” the older boy blows out, slowly standing up. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Togata dismisses himself with a bow, offering a light smile, even as his eyes are clouded with thought and confusion. Izuku thinks he’s already mulling over everything that had been said in this room.

Izuku hopes he isn’t upset that he hasn’t manifested any other Quirks, or that he’ll chase after something that might not happen to him too.

“Well,” Nezu chimes in, glancing around at the group, “I believe Togata-kun had the right idea. I think we all should take the evening to think. I suppose that’s everything for now, isn’t it?”

There’s a murmur of agreement, and everyone starts to rise out of their seats.

“A-actually,” Izuku pipes up sheepishly, “I... have a question for Yagi-san.”

“I’m all ears, my boy,” the Pro resettles in his chair. Everyone else lowers back into their seats as well, all eager for the question. Izuku tries not to feel overwhelmed.

“Have we... met before?” Izuku pauses, then backtracks when Yagi cocks his head in confusion, “I mean, Deku. Of course. Have you met Deku? Prior to this?”

“I... don’t believe so,” the man frowns. “I think I’d remember meeting someone like him. Why? Should we have met? How did we meet in your reality, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Izuku sucks in a breath. “A while back, um, a-about ten months before the start of this school year... was there a villain attack?” Izuku realizes instantly that of course there was a villain attack. There’s always a villain attack happening. Specifics. “A sludge villain, made of slime. That’s how we met.”

“I remember seeing that on the news,” Sensei chimes in hesitantly, “he attacked a junior high student, didn’t he? There wasn’t exactly much detail in the news report, but it did say the victim was a minor.”

“He attacked Bakugou-kun,” Nezu shakes his head, “that young man almost died.”

“Hn, I do remember that,” All Might hums thoughtfully, “it had been a very long day, and my time limit had just started getting shorter. I happened upon—” the man freezes, eyes widening, “...I happened upon a young man being attacked under a bridge.”

“A bridge?” Tsukauchi frowns in confusion, “that attack took place downtown.”

“The first attack,” Izuku whispers, “Yagi-san, what happened during that first attack.”

“He... was just a young boy. I managed to catch the villain quite easily. When the boy came to, he... wanted an autograph but... like I said, my time limit. I tried to leave, to bring the villain into custody, but he... you... you grabbed onto my leg as I took off. I remember you now. You were that boy. Deku was that boy.”

Izuku swallows. “You showed him your injury,” Izuku says, knowing the man remembers that too, just by how his face twists in horror. “You dropped him off on a rooftop, and you showed him what happened to you. What All for One did to you. He... he asked you a question, and you answered.”

“Yes,” the man swallows, “I did.”

“Yagi...” Tsukauchi breathes out, wide eyes on his friend, “what did you do?”

“He asked me if someone who was Quirkless could be a Hero,” Yagi whispers, “and I said no.”

“You said no,” Sensei repeats stiffly. “The Number One Hero said a Quirkless middle schooler couldn’t be a Hero. On a rooftop. Wonderful.”

“Midoriya Izuku committed suicide three days after that attack,” Tsukauchi sucks in a breath. Detective Tsukauchi’s eyes narrow on Yagi-san, and it’s the angriest Izuku thinks he’s ever seen the detective. “You said you didn’t know the kid when I showed you his picture, Yagi.”

“I didn’t,” the man insists desperately, “I didn’t even know Midoriya and Deku were one and the same until now. I wouldn’t have known, Tsukauchi, you know I don’t watch the news. I couldn’t have been the one... I never would’ve left him if I’d known he was—”

“What did you think would happen leaving a kid like that?” Sensei hisses, “damnit, Yagi.”

“Gentlemen,” Nezu calms, standing up on the books and pressing his paws on the tabletop, “let’s remember that Deku is in fact alive. He did not commit suicide. Midoriya, what happened after that in your reality?”

“I...” Izuku swallows, thinking back, “I heard the attack and when I realized it was Kacchan I... it was stupid, but I tried to help. None of the Pros were doing anything, and he’s— he’s my friend. I threw my backpack and I tried to get the sludge villain off him. All Might saved us both. And then he found me walking home and... well, y’know.”

“Deku never showed up at the second attack,” Tsukauchi tells the green-haired teen. “Bakugou almost died; he was in the hospital for two days due to dry drowning. He fell unconscious in the sludge, but Yagi did arrive in time to help. But... Deku never showed up like you’re saying.”

“Something else must’ve happened then,” Izuku tells them in frustration. “I don’t know what— but All Might and I had that same conversation, but things differ after that. Something’s different. I don’t understand!”

“Problem Child,” Aizawa-Sensei sighs, setting his hand on Izuku’s shoulder and giving a gentle squeeze, “Deku is not your problem to solve. The reality created him, so it’s on us to take care of him.”

“Yes,” All Might admits shamefully. “Aizawa-san is correct. You should be focused on yourself, my boy. Hopefully you won’t have any more problems now that everything here has been sorted out. Listen, young Midoriya, Deku has been our problem long before you arrived here. Don’t get caught up in something you can’t change.”

“Right,” Izuku frowns.

“And if you need anymore help with One for All while you’re here, I would be more than happy to assist you in any way I can until you’re returned to your own reality and All Might,” Yagi-san offers a kind smile, but his eyes are still sad and guilty.

Izuku bites back a frown, “thank you.”

Izuku frowns to himself sitting cross-legged on the bed in guest room of Aizawa-Sensei and Yamada-Sensei's guest room.

He stares down at the small, folded up square of paper. It’s crumped and wilted, no doubt from Izuku’s own sweaty hands when he’d gotten it. The paper is familiar to the touch, torn messily out of a notebook.

He thinks back to the press of that stranger’s hand in his own, the paper wedged between their hands, before the figure started to pull away, but not before ensuring Izuku had a hold of the tiny, folded-up paper before doing so. He remembers cold fingers guiding his own into a fist around the well-hidden note that had been pressed into his palm.

Notebooks of analysis scattered on the ground flash in his mind, writing so familiar it hurt. The brand of notebooks he always uses, the graphite pencils he likes over the mechanical ones everyone else his age seems to prefer, and the sharp, fluid lines of kanji. The exact same writing that’s on the small, crumpled up paper held in his hands.

And on the multiple Analysis books of his own back in his dorm room in his own reality.

Izuku shuts his eyes and sees a glimpse of narrowed green eyes and the dark, foresty tips of what he knows to be unruly curls hidden behind the hood.

He has little doubts about it now, the more he thinks about it.

The more he stares at the note in his hands, and replays the interaction in his head, picking miniscule details apart, the more the anxious feeling in his chest settles.

Izuku draws in a stuttery breath, thumbing along the note that looks as if he could’ve written it himself.

It looks like he’d finally met Deku.

Chapter Text

Saturday, Alternate Reality

Izuku spends most of the night staring at the note Deku had given him.

He tries to sleep, he really does, but he can just stare at that torn slip of paper and think. He can’t rein in the thoughts, the questions, possible answers. He knows so much about his reality double, but he can’t for the life of him figure out what went wrong.

Even when he does have his eyes shut, all he sees are the sharp strokes of kanji, and the wrinkles and folds of balled-up journaling paper. He can imagine himself, no, Deku, writing it out with a steady hand, followed by hurriedly tearing it from the notebook.

The note is haunting him.

When the morning arrives, rays of sun peeking into the room through the curtains and the sounds of his Sensei’s stumbling from their own room. It’s the earliest he’d been awake in this reality, and he desperately wishes he wasn’t. His eyes beg to be shut, but his brain just won’t turn off.

He lays for a while longer, eyes squeezed shut, but sleep not finding him.

When he finally decides it’s futile to chase something that obviously will not be finding him now, he furiously dry washes his face with his palms, taking comfort in the scratch of cotton fabric and skin on skin friction that wakes what little drowsiness he managed.

He sighs heavily into the darkness as he lets his arms settle at his sides for a second as he mourns the night and the chance of sleeping, before he’s pushing himself up.

He stumbles up from bed, beelining towards the stack of clothes he’d been gifted by the teachers, pulling on the first sweatshirt he finds in the pile. It’s big on him, a size or so too big, but it pulls comfortably over the shift he’d worn to bed.

He finds himself stood in the center of the room after that, hesitating. His gaze drifts to the bedside table where the note that had kept him up all night remains. The teen narrows his gaze on the small, folded paper scrap, a distasteful frown tugging at his lips.

He swallows down the hesitance, stepping to the bedside table to grab the folded up note and stares at it in his hand for just a second before slipping it into the pocket of his sweatshirt as he turns to the door and heads out of the room.

He hears light conversation as he approaches the kitchen, but his attention is on the note, thumbing lightly over the edge of the it in his pocket. He knows he should show Aizawa-Sensei. The man would want to know. All Might would want to know, and detective Tsukauchi.

Deku had made contact— they could finally arrest him. They could plan something. Deku has been causing problems for far too long, and it’s about time he was put away for everything he’s done... He’s a villain—

But...

Izuku doesn’t think he’s dangerous.

Well, he is, of course, but not like Shigaraki and the rest of the League.

He’d like to say it’s because he’s Midoriya Izuku, but that's obviously not true. Still, there’s something about that figure he’d met that just... wasn’t bad. Danger Sense hadn’t gone off, and besides the oddity of the situation, Deku hadn’t made a move.

Deku had found them when they were vulnerable— Izuku and Eraserhead both.

He could’ve contacted Shigaraki and the League.

Izuku’s sure he’s probably on their radar at this point. What’s better than one Deku? Two Dekus. And Eraserhead is a Pro Hero that will definitely give the League trouble if given the chance. They’d seen him in action. Izuku remembers how interested in Aizawa-Sensei Shigaraki was during that fight at the USJ.

Deku could’ve swiftly and easily reported back, turned them in to the League. Gotten them captured or even killed. It seems in character for him, according to everything everyone had been telling him about his doppelganger. It would’ve been easy. And quick.

Assuming Deku had seen them when they hadn’t seen him, that he’d had the time to scribble out a note and come up with a clever, unassuming way to pass it to him without causing suspicion to the observant Pro Hero?

There definitely would’ve been time to bring the League in for an ambush. With the portal-void villain’s Quirk they could’ve been there in seconds, waiting and watching for the perfect time to take them out.

Eraserhead could put up a fight, but worrying about the entire League at once? Dealing with a group of villains who know his Quirk activation tell? His weaknesses?

Even he’s not that good.

Deku could’ve done so much damage without lifting a finger.

But he hadn’t.

He’d made contact, harmlessly, forced a note into Izuku’s hand discreetly and had taken off before either Izuku or his Sensei figured him out. It had been fluent and slick, like Deku had planned it.

It could be a trap, of course.

But even as he thumbs along the note, Danger Sense remains dormant.

And it’s a pretty stupid trap anyways, if that is what the League has planned.

Deku has no assurance that Izuku isn’t coming in guns blazing with dozens of Pro Heroes. He’s a wanted villain, and Izuku is a Heroics student. He should be suspicious of Izuku, just like Izuku is suspicious of him. If they’re the same person, he’d know better than to just believe everything will be fine and dandy when attempting something like this.

He’d reached out to Izuku, taking the chance to do it right under Eraserhead’s nose, but he can’t be sure Izuku himself isn’t planning something too. At any rate, they should both be prepared for an ambush.

They’d both be idiots to not involve their own sides.

If what everyone says about Deku is true, he’s smart.

And this doesn’t seem like a half-baked plan that Shigaraki could’ve come up with; thought had gone into this. Waiting until now is more dangerous than ambushing them at the beach would’ve been. Deku has a motive, and it doesn’t have anything to do with Shigaraki.

It feels... legit.

“Midoriya?” Izuku startles, fist tightening around the paper in his pocket. He jerks his attention up to his Sensei, where the man is watching him with a concern furrowed brow. “You okay?”

“H-huh?” Izuku blinks owlishly before focusing his attention on his surroundings.

Sensei is sat at the kitchen table with a mug of coffee, eyes narrowed and scrutinizing, and Yamada-Sensei is turned away from the stovetop, spatula in hand as he also watches Izuku in concern.

Izuku blinks owlishly, thoughtful frown deepening.

He doesn’t know when he made it to the kitchen.

Izuku realizes after another long second that they look so worried because he’s just standing in the doorway of their kitchen. He’d been so lost in thought that he wouldn’t be surprised he had that absent look in his eyes— the look he always has when he draws away from the world and just thinks.

It’s a bad habit.

How long had he just been stood in the doorway? How long had they been watching? Waiting?

“Oh,” he breathes out, tugging his hand from his pouch pocket to rub at the back of his neck in embarrassment. He flashes them each a disarming half-smile, “yeah, I’m fine, just... tired.”

“You look it, Listener,” Present Mic chimes in as he turns back towards his sizzling pan, “rough night?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Izuku offers with a shrug as he finally moves into the room, settling at the table with his Sensei.

Aizawa-Sensei is still quiet, studying him as he settles at the table.

Izuku pretends not to notice.

“You’re up awfully early,” the underground Hero muses behind his mug of coffee. “Any particular reason? Were you planning on going for a run this morning?”

Izuku shakes his head wordlessly.

He hadn’t even thought about a morning run, frankly it’s the furthest thing from his mind right now. He can get back onto his workout schedule when he’s home in his own reality and he’s not debating what to do with Deku.

The note in his pocket feels heavier at the thought.

He bites at the inside of his cheek, tugging his other hand out of his pocket. He laces his finger together and sets his hands on the table, turning his gaze down to the edge of the table.

Should he tell them?

Of course he should. That’s a no-brainer. They’re Pro Heroes. They’re his teachers where he’s from. He trusts them, both in his own reality and here as well. This is bigger than him. Deku is dangerous. Izuku shouldn’t go into this blindly, and there’s no trusting someone working with the League.

He’d be an idiot not to tell Sensei.

But...

A plate is set in front of him, and Izuku, embarrassingly enough, startles. He draws his hands back into his chest like the plate will snap out and bite at his fingers, and whips his attention to Present Mic, who blinks, looking just as startled at Izuku feels.

The man brushes off the surprise first, offering a sheepish smile as he gestures to the plate. “Bacon and eggs,” he says in cheery explanation, “I hope you don’t mind a simple American breakfast, Listener.”

“Thank you,” Izuku nods, dragging his palms down his cheeks in an attempt to stir himself from his thoughts. He can’t be focused on that now, not when he’s already under observation.

He can’t be distracted to the point it’s worrying those around him.

He doesn’t want them worried. He doesn’t want them suspicious. If they started asking questions, serious, pointed questions, Izuku doesn’t know if he’d be able to lie right to their faces. He has a deep respect for all his teachers.

He picks his chopsticks up and offers a lopsided smile to the two men watching him. Present Mic had joined them at the table now, brow furrowed and eyes darting subtly between Izuku and Aizawa-Sensei.

His Sensei’s exchange a glance before each picking up their own chopsticks and starting to eat.

Izuku follows suit, unable to stop his shoulders from hunching inwards. He appreciates them at least acting like he’s not being weird and distant, even if it’s just for right now.

His thoughts keep circling back to the note sitting heavy in his pocket. Back to Deku and all the questions he has. What had happened? There’s no way for him to get an answer without actually hearing it from Deku. Only Deku would be able to tell him that. He craves answers. He can’t just accept that he’s some sort of monster here, without knowing what went wrong.

“Okay,” Izuku jerks his attention up at the sound of Sensei’s voice, “what’s up with you?”

The man is watching him, hands interlaced together, with his chin settled on the bridge of his fingers. His elbows support his head, and his eyes are narrowed calculatingly on Izuku.

Present Mic is leaned back in his chair, lip caught between his teeth as he watches Izuku too.

Their plates, he realizes, are empty, whereas his is hardly touched.

He’d gotten lost in his thoughts again. He really is awful at this.

“I... have a headache,” Izuku croaks out before he can really think better of it, voice hoarse and lie tasting acidic. They’ve been so kind to him, and here he is lying to them. “I’m just very tired, I guess. Didn’t really sleep, and now I have a headache...”

“You should’ve told me,” Sensei shakes his head, standing up to find the ibuprofen bottle. “Did you want to go to classes today, or would you like to stay here? I can’t stay here with you today; the class is doing some joint work with 1-B and Vlad wouldn’t know how to handle my class. You should be perfectly safe up here though, if that’s what you’d like to do.”

“I’d like to sleep,” Izuku whispers, staring down at the table just so the man can’t read his expression and be able to tell he’s lying through his teeth.

“Well, I suppose that proves that you’re definitely unwell,” the man huffs out, setting the pill bottle on the table beside Izuku’s plate. A glass of water is settled on the other side of the plate, and when Izuku glances over, Present Mic offers a soft smile before turning and disappearing down the hall. “Anything weird about the headache?”

“No Danger Sense,” Izuku mutters, the first honest thing he’s said this morning. His chest tightens guiltily as that sinks in and he avoids looking at either teacher. “And it’s not a... migraine. Just a lack of sleep thing, I think. I’m fine.”

“No reason to involve Recovery Girl then,” the man nods to himself. “How about your hand? I completely forgot about your scheduled visit to the infirmary yesterday what with everything else going on. Any symptoms of infection?”

At the mention, Izuku looks down at his bandaged hand. He’d almost forgotten about it. It’s no better or worse, really. Maybe it hurts a bit more after falling on it yesterday, but it’s not infected or anything, “it’s okay.”

Sensei studies him, eyes narrowed, before he seems to accept the answer. “I’ll bring you down there after school today if you’re up for it. She’ll want to see you, and she can change the bandages then. You take today to rest up. I know you don’t like the nurse’s office, but it’s a necessary evil.”

Izuku nods sheepishly, leaning on his elbow, uninjured hand supporting his head. His bandaged hand slips into his pocket, fiddling with the note again. If the man notices he doesn’t mention it.

Aizawa-Sensei takes his silence as an answer, nodding to himself as he turns wordlessly and disappears down the hallway just as Present Mic had. A quick glance at the clock shows it’s about the time Izuku knows the teachers head into school to prepare for the day. He’s seen Aizawa-Sensei in his own reality leaving around this time when he’s coming back from his morning run.

Izuku stares down at the pill bottle in front of him, that guilt swirling in his chest making him feel sick. He supposes he deserves it for lying about being sick.

If he wants to get answers, he has to do this alone.

Izuku doesn’t know Deku, but he does know himself.

Should this really be Deku reaching out and not a trap, which if it was, he could use his Quirk (which they don’t know about like his own League back home does) to escape, Heroes showing up on scene would shatter the mutual trust they'd each begrudgingly offered up.

Deku reaching out, and Izuku entertaining the request.

He knows he’d close himself off completely if he was in Deku’s shoes, and someone brought in an unknown factor, such as a Hero— Aizawa-Sensei especially.

If he wants to get to the bottom of this, it means doing it alone. Deku hasn’t reached out to anyone else, or he’d already be behind bars. He’s got an agenda, and Izuku wants to know why he’s doing this.

He wants answers, and that means somehow managing to separate himself from his Senseis, and doing it without rising suspicion.

Izuku hears footsteps approaching, so he lifts the glass of water to his lips, sipping at it so it looks like he’d taken some ibuprofen. He feels awful as he does so, the water tasting almost acidic as it settles in his stomach. He nurses the glass to his chest as Sensei appears.

“I doubt anything will happen, but if something does, Bakugou is still on house arrest,” Sensei explains easily, “he’ll be in the dorms with you if you need him. He can contact me if necessary. There’s also a landline that has the principal, the main office, the nurse’s office and mine and Hizashi’s personal numbers on speed dial if you urgently need something.”

Izuku glances up to where the man gestures, spotting said landline phone.

He knows there’s a similar landline downstairs in the common area of the dorms too. It’s got the nurses' office, Aizawa-Sensei's number and various other emergency sort of numbers on speed dial as well. They hadn’t had to use it yet in his reality, but it is nice to know they have a way to contact help, even if something goes wrong with their internet or cell service.

“Okay,” Izuku nods.

Sensei glances at the clock on the wall, frowning to himself before lulling his attention in the direction he’s just come and loudly speaking, “Hizashi, we’ll be late for the staff meeting if you don’t hurry up.”

Izuku hears the sound of hurried footsteps, and something that sound suspiciously like a string of curse words in English. He bows his head, biting back a smile as Present Mic appears next to Sensei, tugging on his leather jacket while pushing up stray blonde hairs, “I’m ready! Let’s go! I do not want Nezu being all passive aggressive with us because we’re late.”

Sensei shakes his head as the other man hurries past them to the door leading out to the hallway.

“You rest up,” Sensei tells him as he turns to follow at Mic.

Izuku waves the man off, bowing his head as he listens to both teachers tugging their shoes on, arguing lightly about something under their breaths. He listens to the door open, and then close, before silence settles in the apartment.

Izuku waits a couple minutes, just to be sure, before finally pushing himself up. He tidies up after himself, washes the dishes from breakfast and finishes off the water Present Mic had gotten him, then disappears into the guest room to change his clothes.

He holds the note in his hand when he’s finally dressed, nose scrunching up as he hesitates.

Izuku nods to himself. He can’t push this off. His days here are obscurely numbered, and he knows he’ll never forgive himself if he goes home without figuring this out. He wants answers, and if Deku is willing to give him those answers, he’s going to at least try to meet the villain halfway.

No matter what sort of plan Deku has in motion.

Izuku leaves the guestroom, and beelines towards the front door.

It’s only as he’s tugging on his shoes that he decides... maybe he is an idiot.

Finding Kacchan isn’t as hard as he thought it might’ve been.

It turns out his childhood friend is in the kitchen.

There’re stacks of freshly washed dishes piled on the counter waiting to be put away, and Katsuki holds a broom, knuckles bone white as he works. He grumbles to himself as he sweeps under the dining table, not instantly noticing Izuku.

“Kacchan,” Izuku calls out, ignoring the need to snicker as the blonde shoots up in surprise, eyes narrowing sharply on Izuku in question. “I need your help.”

“What the hell are you doing sneaking around down here?” the blonde snaps back in reply. “You’re supposed to be with Sensei, Nerd. Did All Might trying to beat the shit out of you yesterday teach you nothing?”

“Hey, he apologized for that,” Izuku huffs, crossing his arms over his chest, “and he was just trying to protect the school. You grabbed me by my shirt and threatened to hurt me if I did anything to the 1-A students when we first met and— you know what? This isn’t what I’m here to talk to you about. I need your help.”

Katsuki eyes him, leaning against the broom, bending the bristles into the floor, “with what?”

“I need to get off campus,” Izuku tells his childhood friend, making sure his expression remains entirely serious. “This is important, Kacchan. Seriously. I need to go.”

“So talk to Sensei and get him to bring you off campus,” the blonde snorts out, seemingly done with the conversation as he resumes his sweeping, uninterestedly, “I don’t know what you expect me to do for you. In case you forgot, I’m on house arrest? Do you want me expelled or something, because you already had your chance for that.”

“I can’t go to Sensei.”

“And why the fuck not?” Kacchan demands, glaring up from his sweeping. When he catches Izuku’s face though, the hostility in his expression dims as uncertainty takes over. “Izuku... what did you do?”

Izuku hesitates before he reaches into his pocket and pulls out the note.

If anyone would be able to see what he sees, it would be Kacchan.

Izuku steps forwards, holding the small, folded paper out to his childhood friend. He remains perfectly still, hand outstretched, as Kacchan scrutinizes the paper suspiciously before he shifts so the broom is leaned against his collarbone and his hands are free.

The ashen-haired teen takes the paper into his own hands, and Izuku’s hands settle at his side when the paper is no longer withing grasp, feeling almost exposed as Kacchan handles the note.

Izuku is quiet as Kacchan unfolds it, and only when his friend’s eyes are scanning over the words on the paper, does he finally speak again, “it’s not what I’ve done, it’s what I’m going to do.”

Kacchan’s eyes lift from the paper, features pinched in annoyance and confusion.

“What the hell kind of note it this?” He asks drily, eyes flicking back down as he loudly reads out what the note says, “’Can someone without a Quirk become a Hero like you?’ What the hell are you writing notes to yourself for, Nerd? You’re already a Hero for God’s sake, need your ego stroked or some shit? Or is this some kind of fuckin’ guilt trip? I already told you I was sorry, so what kind of bullshit is this?”

“I didn’t write that, Kacchan,” Izuku whispers, holding the blonde’s gaze sharply.

For a long second neither boy moves.

The silence settling around them is tense.

Kacchan stares at Izuku, eyes wide and surprised and thoughtful, and Izuku just waits for his friend to come to the right conclusion.

“He contacted you,” Kacchan states emotionlessly. There’s an edge of dread in his tone, eyes almost unseeing. He’s watching Izuku, but it almost feels like the other is looking right through him.

He’d pieced it together almost instantly, but Izuku wasn’t surprised by that. Izuku knows his own writing, had known who he was in contact with the second he’d read over the kanji, and Kacchan has been looking at the same formal kanji for as long as he has.

Izuku knows his own writing penmanship hasn’t changed since early middle school.

“And you’re seriously considering this?” The blonde’s eyes flick between Izuku and the note he now has scrunched between shaking fingers. He sucks in a breath through his nose, sharp eyes lasering in on Izuku, “Deku reached out to you. And you’re going to... are you a fucking moron, Izuku? He’s a Goddamned Villain—”

“He’s still me!” Izuku snaps back, marching forwards to snatch the note back from Katsuki. He thumbs over the date, today, and the time, just a couple hours from now, scrawled at the top of the note before shoving it back into his pocket. “Look, I know you don’t like this, but I need to go, Kacchan. I need to solve this. I need your help!”

“I am not helping you get yourself killed!” the blonde roars, “do you have any idea how stupid this is? Deku kills people! He has hurt people! He hurt Sensei! He’s a bad guy, Izuku. You need to tell Sensei. You need to tell the fucking police, or even All Might for God’s sake!”

“You don’t know that!” Izuku growls back, puffing out his chest and stepping closer to Kacchan. “We don’t know why he’s doing this. We don’t know why he and I are different when nothing so far is different! Until I hear it from him, I can’t believe this! Is there even any proof Deku’s done all this, or just accusations from villains? No one’s even seen him until yesterday!”

“That bastard kidnapped me—”

“And you told him to kill himself!” Izuku snaps before he can think better of it.

It really is a dirty argument, but he just can’t stop himself.

Kacchan falls into a stunned silence, staring at Izuku with a glare that teeters between annoyance and hesitance. It’s a familiar, yet odd expression to see on his childhood friend’s face.

“Look—” Izuku stares hard at the ground, rubbing his palms against his face before pushing them up through his curls, leaving green locks stood on ends. He tries reining in the flurry of emotions catching in his voice as he continues, “—something doesn’t add up here. Something went wrong between me meeting All Might, and you getting attacked by the sludge villain. Deku was supposed to be there, but he wasn’t. Something happened, Kacchan. Something different.”

The ashen-haired boy is silent before him, brooding. His arms are crossed tightly over his chest, and his jaw is set with tension. He scans Izuku up and down, but something in his gaze softens when his eyes catch Izuku’s own. Still, he doesn’t speak.

The green-haired teen sucks in a breath, voice dropping to a whisper, “if... if you’ve ever regretted what you said to us— to him— then help me now. I don’t know what happened, but he’s reaching out. He’s reaching out to me. If you ever want the chance to apologize to him for being an asshole, for what you’ve said and done, then help me. Help me help him.”

“How?” Kacchan’s voice is hardly that of a whisper, eyes glaring into Izuku’s soul. “Do you even know where you’re going? What that note means?”

“Of course I do! I asked that question to someone and... and Deku did too. I know exactly where he wants to go just from that. It’s honestly really clever, since no one else but me would know what that means— but that’s beside the point. I need to leave school grounds,” Izuku says, matching Kacchan’s closed off body language. “I know where he wants me to go, and I can get there myself. I just... I need to go without raising suspicion. Without the teachers realizing.”

“So use your ID card,” Kacchan huffs out pointedly, “I know you have one. Looked pretty official to me.”

“We tried it already,” Izuku groans out, ruffling his finger through his own curls, “trust me, if that worked, I would’ve just left. You think I want you involved in this? I don’t want this to hurt you, but the system doesn’t register mine as an active student number. I need you. Or, your ID, at least. I know where I’m going once I’m off school grounds, I just need a way out.”

Kacchan is silent, studying Izuku with narrowed eyes.

“This is so fuckin’ stupid. You know Deku’s insane, right?” Kacchan huffs out finally, slipping his hand into his pocket as his eyes narrow on Izuku even sharper, like a silent warning or something. “He’s a fuckin’ pyscho to be working with the League. They’re all fuckin’ nuts. He’s not who I know anymore, and he’s not who you think he is. He’s not like you, Izuku. You’re not the same person anymore. He’s smart, and he works with the villains.”

Despite Katsuki’s words, he does pull out his wallet, then proceeds to tug out his Yuuei ID card. He holds the card out while shoving his wallet back into his pocket, “Sensei’s going to beat my ass when he finds out. I’m sure this is grounds for expulsion, Izuku. My ass is on the line for you to try play buddy-buddy with one of the current most wanted villains in Japan.”

“I’ll cover for you,” Izuku promises, grabbing a hold of the card and frowning when Katsuki doesn’t immediately release his own grip. “If Sensei, or anyone else asks, I stole this from you. I’ll take the blame, I promise. As soon as I’m passed the gates, there’s nothing they can do. Deku wouldn’t have reached out if he didn’t want to talk to me. I need to know.”

Kacchan grits his teeth, glaring hard at the ID card before finally releasing his hold. He tucks one hand back into his pocket and picks the broom up from where it had been leaning against his collarbone.

He watches, glaring, as Izuku tucks the ID card into his sweatshirt pocket.

“You really are a Goddamned idiot, Izuku.”

“I know,” Izuku snorts out, managing a light smile, “I think it’s part of my charm though.”

Kacchan snorts out something that borders on unamusement and exasperation, shaking his head.

Izuku hesitates as Kacchan picks the broom back up, hands tightening around the wood.

Izuku lets out a deep exhale through his nose, that lingering feeling of guilt deepening as he looks at his childhood friend.

“What?” The ashen-haired boy drawls, sharp eyes scanning Izuku, “second guessing yourself already? It’s not too late to not be a Goddamn suicidal idiot.”

“No, it’s not that,” Izuku bows his head apologetically, trying to swallow down the guilt, “I’m just really sorry that I’m forcing you into this. I know you’re putting a lot on the line to help—”

“Shut up. Listen, I was ready to go down when Sensei learned of our past,” the blonde snaps, gently jabbing Izuku’s shoulder with the handle of the broom, “and I’m ready to go down for this. I owe Deku this, at least. If I can’t help him, what kind of a lousy Hero will I be anyways? And... maybe you’re right. Maybe I’ll be able to apologize to him sometime too. He deserves my apology; your Katsuki still needs to get his head out of his fucking ass.”

“He’ll grow up eventually,” Izuku insisted, sold on the idea after seeing the maturity of this Bakugou Katsuki. It’s possible, at least, his own just hasn’t come to the same conclusion just yet, but he’s hopeful he will. "We are on decent terms though.”

Kacchan snorts a disbelieving laugh once again but doesn’t add anything else.

Izuku nods to himself, turning away. It feels like a natural place for the conversation to end and for him to take his leave. It’s not like Kacchan is a sentimental type that would want to send him off with heartfelt goodbyes. Kacchan may be nicer in this reality, but he’s still Bakugou Katsuki.

Izuku just about makes it to the genkan when—

“Izuku?” Izuku pauses in place but doesn’t look back at his childhood friend. “Just... don’t let that fucker kill you, alright. He works with the League. Remember that. They don’t make headlines for nothing.”

Izuku makes his way through town, silently glad nothing glaring has changed.

His hands are buried in his pockets and presses the meat of his thumb into the dull edge of Kacchan’s ID card. It’s blunt, but the more pressure he uses, the more grounding the dull sting gets. His escape had gone perfectly, Kacchan’s card unlocking the gates so Izuku could slip out.

He knows there will probably be a notice or something sent to the principal, saying that a student left, and that Sensei will no doubt hear about Kacchan supposedly leaving campus as well, but he is safe in the dorms still, so he hopes nothing bad comes to Kacchan. Not when this is all Izuku’s stupid idea.

The note from Deku brushes along his knuckles as he walks, but for the most part, he tries to keep his mind off of it.

If he thinks too hard about Deku, he’ll start to consider how much of a bad idea this is.

He knows it is, but he also knows that out of everyone Deku could’ve reached out to, he’s the one who’s the most unbiased towards this situation, whereas everyone else has been watching everything Deku’s done. If anyone could understand Deku, Izuku thinks it would be himself and... he doesn’t want to risk Pro messing this up.

He arrives at the train station a lot faster now than he had yesterday when he and Aizawa-Sensei had stepped out. It’s calming to know what to expect— knowing things hadn’t changed much between realities. Izuku silently thanks the universe for free student transportation on public services, and swipes Kacchan’s card solely out of convenience.

At this time of day, in the middle of the week, it’s a very quiet ride.

He rides the sky train deeper into Musutafu, hands clenching into fists where they’re buried in his pockets. He stares out the window across from where he’s sitting, absently keeping track of where he’s going and the landmarks and buildings he knows they’re going to pass on the journey.

When he reaches his destination, Izuku is quick to exit the train. He settles into the walk ahead of him, trailing along familiar roads. It is his childhood town, after all. He knows his way around.

He finds himself on route towards the bridge that had been both his emotional breaking point, as well as the start of his Heroics life. The place that had started everything for him.

He pauses at the mouth of the bridge, hesitating as fear ropes around his heart.

He’d avoided this place since that day.

He’d started taking the longer route home, and steered clear of the bridge entirely as he finished off junior high. Even now, he can’t seem to force himself under where he’d almost died; the phantom feeling of suffocation settles in his lungs, and the grimy scent of sewage and stale, murky water catches in his nose.

This is where he would’ve died, if it hadn’t been for All Might.

Izuku shakes his head, clearing his thoughts as he turns on his heels and leaves the bridge.

This isn’t where he’s supposed to be going, even if it is where it all had started.

This was just the beginning, not the end.

He carries on until the familiar building comes into view.

An ache settles in his chest as he stares up at the condemned building through a wire construction fence that keeps the public out of the area. He sourly remembers slipping through this very fence after fleeing the rooftop that day, heart in his stomach as the gravity of All Might’s words blurred his head.

Can someone without a Quirk... become a Hero like you?

You need to be realistic, Kid.

A danger sign clings to the fence, raising caution about unstable buildings and the risk of ignoring the warning, but Izuku pays it no mind as he scales the fence using One for All. He drops gracefully on the other side, sucking in a breath to calm his nerves as he continues forth towards the heart of the site, the tallest building remaining.

The whole neighborhood is totaled.

He knows exactly what had happened in his own reality.

He hadn’t really had a chance to take the place in when he was fleeing that day; hopes and dreams, and what felt like his entire life crumbling down around him. He’d just wanted to leave that day.

Now, he takes a moment to look.

He’d only seen the damage from the outside after it had happened, just months before the Sludge Villain incident, looking in from the outside of the fence, safe on the other side from the chaos as Heroes and rescue services searched for survivors in the wreckage.

It was swiftly sanctioned off and deemed dangerous by the Commission after that, left to rot.

It had been a villain fight that had wreaked havoc on the unsuspecting neighborhood.

It was apartment buildings, mainly. The land and buildings owned by a private landlord who’d gone bankrupt following the destruction and had been forced to sell to the land. Izuku remembers seeing it on the news.

There was so much structural damage that the entire place was condemned, and just left. The Commission wasn’t about to pour money into rebuilding, especially if there was no gain for them, even if they should’ve, and Izuku knows the city of Musutafu just didn’t have the funds for such a project, and even insurance was fickle when it came to Villain fights, so it had sat untouched.

It’s unfortunate, really, that it just sits in limbo like an abandoned ghost town. He knows the place will remain that way until some aspiring entrepreneur, with the funds and time, purchases the land and rebuilds all the homes lost, or puts in something new.

Musutafu is small though, so it’s rather unlikely.

A year is a long time for such a chunk of land to sit on the market, and he’s sure it’ll remain that way for ages. It’s been due for demolition in his own reality for months, but it hasn’t happened yet, always getting postponed and rescheduled.

Izuku chews at his bottom lip as he creeps through the wreckage, silently determining that this exact neighborhood had probably received the same treatment as his own back home. He hadn’t come back around since All Might, and it’s probably for the best.

The building he’s looking for is the most stable, which is probably why All Might had chosen it in the first place. Isolated and private, and sturdy enough to support them. The damage is minimal, a wall busted out, but that said, it’s probably not entirely structurally sound either.

Still, Izuku glances at the broken wall, a way in, before deciding to just use One for All and scale his way to the top. It seems easier that way. He also doesn’t completely trust that there’s not a trap waiting for him in the stairwell. Ten floors is a lot of chances for an ambush.

He sucks in a breath and does just that, springing up with a Quirk enhanced leap, and using window ledges, half crumbled balconies and crooked fire escapes to make his way to the top. Nothing moves, or shifts under him, so he decides it’s probably still stable enough to support him.

He grips the edge of the roof when he’s close enough and digs the toe of his shoe into a vent duct, hoisting himself up and stumbling over the edge. This time, he lands a little less gracefully.

He feels a weird wave of déjà vu as he glances around, a frown tugging at his lips. The rooftop doesn’t look much different than the one from his own memories. He isn’t sure if that’s a good thing, or a bad thing.

Izuku hesitates before inching away from the safety of the edge. It doesn’t look like Deku has arrived yet, so he has a second to compose himself—

“That really was something,” a scarily familiar voice calls lightly, and Izuku can’t help how his heart thumps against his ribcage as he swirls to face the direction the call had come from. “I knew you were different from me but seeing it. Impressive.”

“You must be Deku,” Izuku prides himself at how calm and even his voice comes out.

The teen that emerges from the shadows is Izuku’s height, probably exactly his height. He’s slimmer though, and lankier; none of the muscle mass that Izuku had needed to be able to accept One for All from All Might. He supposes Deku would’ve never needed to work out like he had.

Deku looks... different, but the same. It’s easy to tell that’s exactly who he’s looking at— it's like looking in a mirror. It’s like looking in a mirror, but... perhaps it’s one of those distorting mirrors at carnivals and fairs. Izuku sees himself in the other teen, but not the same.

His facial structure is the same, his hair the same foresty green curls, just a bit longer, maybe? Deku’s eyes are the same, that bright emerald green his mother used to always gush about while hugging him close when he was a child.

They’re even dressed completely different.

Izuku in a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt, casual, whereas Deku is more dressed up. He wears a white button-up shirt, and a dark coloured waistcoat. The slacks he wears are as dark as the waistcoat, and the tie tucked neatly into the vest is the same red as the familiar sneakers on his feet.

He looks a lot different from the teen that had deliberately ran into him yesterday.

Overall, they look so similar.

Yet...

Focusing on the details, Deku looks different too.

His eyes don’t hold the same brightness, and there’s heavy bags under them that could rival Aizawa-Sensei's. His face lacks fullness, cheeks almost hallow— not even any trace of the baby fat Izuku still has. Deku looks... almost unwell, in an exhausted sort of way.

He can even spot Deku’s arms, where the sleeves of the dress shirt are rolled up to his elbows despite the late-morning chill, clear of the scars that had come with One for All.

“How could you tell?” His doppelganger asks, tearing Izuku from his thoughts, voice dripping with sarcasm as he continues out from behind a blind spot behind the air-conditioning unit.

Izuku scrunches his nose up at his own stupidity, glad Sensei isn’t here to reprimand him for his carelessness. He’d been too quick to assume Deku wasn’t there yet, that he wasn’t waiting and watching from the shadows.

Deku pauses on the edge when he’s close enough to Izuku that they don’t have to shout to be heard, head quirking and eyes lazily scanning Izuku up and down, “was it the green hair, or the eyes that gave me away? Or perhaps the identical face?”

Izuku narrows his eyes on the other teen, keeping his mouth in a straight line. He sucks in a light breath through his nose before tenses his stance. “You wanted to meet me,” Izuku says, “well, I’m here.”

“You are,” Deku studies him uncertainly, before subtly looking around like he’s expecting Sensei to spring up from the shadows and tie him up in capture weapon, or for All Might to rise up from the floor and capture him. “And where’s your entourage, huh? I heard Eraserhead is quite taken with you, I saw it, so, how long until he comes for me? At this point, you’re more dangerous to me, then I am to you.”

“He doesn’t know where I am,” Izuku admits pointedly, only slightly regretting admitting that when Deku looks surprised. “I figured you might not appreciate me showing up with a team of people wanting you imprisoned. I’m not scared of you, Deku, and you’re no match for me. Now, what about you? Shigaraki and the League on the way to kidnap me?”

“No,” Deku snorts, brushing his fingers through the weathered grim on the edge he’s sat on. “If I wanted you kidnapped, I would’ve ratted you out at the beach yesterday. Letting Eraserhead see me was a risk. You and Eraserhead were just so in your own little world, you didn’t even notice me. Easy targets. Shigaraki could’ve easily overthrown the two of you, and he would’ve if he knew.”

“How long were you there?” Izuku demands, shoulders squaring up.

There’s a pit of fear settling in his stomach as he thinks about that. He’d already come to this conclusion, that they could’ve been ambushed on the beach if Deku wanted him captured, but hearing the confirmation, the possibility of that ambush being a real thought coming from Deku, he feels sick.

Shigaraki has a weird fascination with Sensei.

They would’ve been caught, vulnerable and unassuming, and been easily outnumbered by the League. After Kacchan’s kidnapping, Izuku knows Shigaraki has numbers, and power. Strong Quirks. A team.

“Long enough,” Deku waves him off casually in reply, the confidence and laid-back nature coming from the doppelganger rubbing at Izuku in a way that has him gritting his teeth. “Now, why should I trust your word, Hero?”

“I trusted you enough to come here,” Izuku reminds sharply, “and I could ask you the same question. Trust goes both ways. Besides, if the Heroes knew you were here, do you really think they’d let me, a foreign student, head the mission? They wouldn’t waste time on chitchat, Deku.”

“Hn, I guess you’ve got a point,” Deku hums thoughtfully, clearly dissecting Izuku’s words. “I doubt Eraser would’ve let you go three feet without a chaperon. And you did trust me, you’re here, aren’t you? I suppose the street does go both ways.”

“I won’t attack if you don’t. Neutral ground. Fair?”

Deku considers this before bowing his head in one, sharp nod, “fair.”

"So, if you didn’t want me kidnapped,” Izuku mutters first, when Deku doesn’t start, even though he’s the one who arranged this meeting. “Then what do you want from me? Why reach out, especially when Eraserhead was right there?”

“I wanted to know what’s so special about you,” Deku breathes out testily, scanning Izuku up and down before he finally shifts and sinks to a sitting position, expression pensive.

Izuku’s heart stutters in his chest as Deku carelessly plops down on the edge of a ten-story building. He wonders if this is what Aizawa-Sensei, the other teachers and his mom feel like when he does something reckless and dangerous.

“There’s nothing special about me,” Izuku frowns when the words finally catch up to him, tense stance easing slightly in confusion. “I was just given a chance to help people and I took it.”

“Bullshit!” Deku snarls, leaning forwards as he digs his nails into the metal of the ledge. “A chance to help people? That’s bullshit. I just watched you scale a ten-story building! I watched you use a Quirk we don’t— shouldn’t— have! A change of reality wouldn’t magically give you something we weren’t born with; we’re the same person and I don’t have one! I’m Quirkless, and if I’m Quirkless, you’re Quirkless. So, tell me, Midoriya Izuku, how is it you have something I never did?”

“I don’t owe you anything,” Izuku snaps back, half regretting giving Deku a chance. “You’re not entitled to know anything about me! I don’t owe you an explanation. I don’t owe you an answer.”

“It doesn’t make sense!” Deku hisses, hands closing into fists that he clenches hard enough that his knuckles blanch. All at once, the anger leaves the other teen, his fists unclench, and colour pools back into his hands. “Why were you given something I wasn’t? What did I do wrong?”

The question catches Izuku off guard, but the answer itself is easy.

“You decided to hurt people instead of helping them,” Izuku huffs unkindly, letting some of his own tension drain away now that Deku’s lost some of his own hostility.

For a long second, Deku just stares at him. His eyes are narrowed in on Izuku and searching intently from afar. His form is slumped over in exhaustion, or maybe even detachment. Izuku doesn’t think anyone has ever studied him as intently, as searchingly.

Izuku sees the exhaustion that he’d spotted a glimpse at early, clear and unhidden now as Deku squints at him as if trying to understand the person before him.

“And how did you help people?” Deku finally asks, head quirking to the side.

Izuku is grateful the other boy doesn’t move—that he’d settled down and stayed there.

“How did you decide to help?” Deku’s voice is carefully clipped, emotionless. “Why did you decide to help after everything? That note was a gamble, something you need to know to figure out, but you knew exactly what it meant. You figured it out, followed it here. You asked him the same question, on this exact rooftop, didn’t you? Did you get the same answer?”

“I did,” Izuku bites at the inside of his cheek. “He said no.”

“But you’re a Hero,” Deku points out, eyes narrowing once again. He stares like he thinks Izuku is lying, prying gaze digging right into Izuku’s entire being, “he told you no too. He left you here, just like me. How did you help people? How are you different from me?”

“I didn’t let All Might’s words stop me.” Izuku rubs at the back of his neck, unable to shake the feeling of how exposed Deku makes him feel. “That day... even after everything... I did what no one else was doing; I helped Kacchan when the Heroes wouldn’t. I moved before I thought, and I helped him. I rushed into danger with the sole intention of helping someone in need. My potential to help was recognized by someone important.”

“That was the same day,” Deku mutters, eyes slivering as he scans Izuku, “I heard that attack, the sirens and stuff. I could sorta see it from here too. Just barely.”

“But you didn’t bother trying to help him?” Izuku snaps, glaring at the other. Something else must’ve changed here before this, because Izuku knows he could never imagine hearing commotion like that and doing nothing. “Maybe you’re exactly where you belong then, Deku.”

Deku looks affronted by this, mouth settling flat in an annoyed grimace of sorts. He pointedly looks away from Izuku, gaze settling in on the afternoon sky. He’s silent, annoyingly so.

Izuku turns his own attention away too, swallowing down his own frustration as his arms cross tightly over his chest. He can’t leave it there though. He didn’t put his safety on the line today for this to end like this.

There’s obviously more to this.

There’s more to it, and Izuku doesn’t understand.

Deku wanted to know what makes them different? Izuku will tell him.

“Kacchan could’ve died, you know,” he scoffs in the other’s direction, tone icy and accusing. “We almost died facing that Sludge guy. Because you weren’t there, he almost did die. You just watched from up here? Ignored it? Why didn’t you leave? You ignored him when you could’ve helped! I helped! Why didn’t you help him? He’s an asshole, but he’s Kacchan still.”

“Leave?” Deku echoes faintly, an upward, humored lilt to his voice. Izuku turns to see his double sporting a half smile, but there’s something almost... defeated about it. Izuku’s stomach twists uncomfortably as that sinks in. “Why didn’t I, huh? Tell me then, how’d you get down?”

Izuku glares sharply at the other’s amusement, gesturing back to the door in exasperation. Of course, Deku would be fooling around now. Asking stupid questions and playing dumb.

Kacchan had told him Deku was an asshole.

The annoyance settles tenfold in Izuku’s stomach as Deku calmly follows his gesture, only his eyes flicking towards the door nestled between two AC units. Deku stares at the door for a long second before his eyes flick back to Izuku, and then that half smile from before widens as he cocks his head almost teasingly to the side.

“Of course,” Deku nods, voice low and condescending, like how someone would talk to a small child. He doesn’t take his eyes off of Izuku as he speaks, “the door. Obviously. Be my guest, leave. I won’t try anything, so don’t look so scared. I won’t move a muscle. Leave, go on.”

Deku shifts his body so it’s more angled towards the doorway and AC units, chin nodding towards the door in clear invitation for Izuku to do as suggested before dropping back onto his kneecap.

Izuku glances back at the door again, suddenly unsure. It's just a door, he knows.

It’s the exact same one Izuku remembers leaving through when All Might had left him on this very rooftop more than a year ago, in a different reality entirely.

He studies the door suspiciously before turning back to the other teen, scanning Deku just as he had the door. To leave through the door, he has to get awfully close to Deku, but he isn’t really afraid of the Midoriya Izuku of this reality. Not like everyone else.

He knows he could hold his own fairly well against someone like Shigaraki, so taking Deku down, should need be, wouldn’t be too hard. They have very different physiques, and obviously different skill sets if Deku works in the shadows, while Izuku is a Hero student.

Plus, Danger Sense still isn’t going off, so there’s that going for him, but he knows he should still be careful. He’d promised Kacchan after all.

Despite Izuku's eyes on him, the other teen doesn’t seem concerned.

He just repositions himself where he’s sat on the edge of the rooftop, one knee pulled up to his chest and dark curls falling into his eyes. He’s half turned in Izuku’s direction, and Izuku feels his gaze on him, knows the other is watching intently as he finally forces himself into action and beelines to the door.

He sets his hand on the knob, and draws in a breath, expecting something— a trap or something, maybe— as he turns the handle and—

Nothing happens.

It doesn’t even turn. Izuku’s hand tightens on the metal handle, giving it another sharp turn, even channeling One for All faintly to get the job done but...

It’s locked.

“Whole lock’s busted,” Deku tells him, uninterested. Or... seemingly uninterested. His voice hitches in a way Izuku knows his own voice does too, and for some reason, guilt pools in his chest. “This side of the handle doesn’t even turn. I should know; I tried for hours. And inside you’ve gotta yank on the handle and kick the door in or it’s useless too. Also took ages to figure out.”

“It’s...” Izuku stares at the door in disbelief, “it’s locked. It was... it was locked that day. With All Might. That’s why you never— why you were never— you couldn’t go down.”

“I could not,” Deku agrees, features hardening as he abruptly turns away, chin settling on his knee as he stares out over the distant city. “Y’know, this place is condemned, barely even stable. The whole block is, I’m sure you saw it coming in. We both know a strong gust of wind could knock this place down, and it was just the same last year, when All Might left me here.”

Izuku swallows, glaring hard at the back of the locked rooftop access door. His hand tightens on the handle, gives another useless jiggle before pulling away and dropping weightlessly to his side.

It was locked.

Izuku’s door hadn’t been locked. He’d been able to pull it open and leave— sneak out of the construction site and be almost a full block away when he heard the commotion of the second attack. He helped because he could; because he was able to.

Something was different here, but it wasn’t anything like Izuku was thinking.

Anything could’ve happened to the lock and door, as miniscule as it was. Something small, hardly noticeable that wouldn’t really be noticed from reality to reality.

A previous tenant in the building breaking the lock by accident, or the elements seeping into the locking mechanism? Maybe it was jammed ages ago, and building maintenance hadn’t gotten around to fixing it?

Anything could’ve happened, something so small you wouldn’t even think about it. Small but significant in the grand scheme of things.

Izuku’s door had been unlocked. Deku’s hadn’t.

“How...” Izuku swallows, unable to force the rest of the words out.

It’s a good thing Deku is him, understands what he means even without finishing. He doesn’t think he’d even be able to force the question out, not while he’s struggling to imagine being stuck up here for an indefinite amount of time.

“Two days,” Deku tells him, clearly putting in the effort to keep his gaze on anything besides Izuku. His fingers tousle with the laces on his sneakers, slipping into the loops of the knot before pulling away and clutching at the toe of the sneaker like he’s grounding himself. “Well, two nights, three days technically. I was rescued on the third day.”

“Why didn’t you...”

“What was I supposed to do?” Deku snaps hotly, turning sharply to glare at Izuku. “My phone was dead. I could yell myself hoarse all I wanted, but who would hear me from here? I didn’t have your fancy Quirk to use. It was pointless.”

Deku turns away again, shifting a bit as his body language closes off. Izuku sees the glare on the other’s face, but he’s just glad it’s not directed at him. “I thought... I hoped a Hero would come. They always save you, right? That’s what Heroes do. I know some patrol these areas, but no one came. No one helped me.”

Izuku chokes on a breath, staring glassy eyed at his doppelganger.

Deku watches Izuku for a long second, shoulders still squared like he’s waiting to see what Izuku will do with the information. Deku takes a slow breath after a moment when the silence lingers for a long second, before slumping down as his shoulders bow in on themselves.

Izuku opens his mouth to reply, but nothing comes out. He can’t seem to form any words, and he doesn't even think anything he would say would mean anything to Deku right now, so he shuts his mouth and remains silent.

Deku turns his head, settling his cheek on the knee still pulled up to his chest as he stares out at the open sky refusing to look back at Izuku.

“I was going to jump.”

The admission is soft, but honest. Izuku still startles, sucking in a breath. He knows he’d considered the same thing, back when All Might had left him here, just for a second, but to hear someone, himself admit it so seriously? It’s hard to swallow.

Deku doesn’t even sound any different or shift at all despite the gravity of his words.

The other teen deflates even further into himself, which Izuku hadn’t thought was possible. He’s quiet for another long second, still refusing to look back at Izuku.

Finally, Deku continues, “I figured I was going to die anyways, so why bother trying? Why not take matters into my own hands? I mean, even if I did survive being stuck up here, you know the Quirkless statistics just as well as I do. That’s not a life someone wants to live— not here in Japan as a minority. It doesn’t get better for us.”

Izuku palms at his eyes, inching closer to Deku.

If the other boy is scared, or surprised by the movement, he doesn’t let it show. Izuku watches the other teen cautiously, hunching in on himself as Deku lulls his attention back in Izuku’s direction. Izuku doesn’t think either of them honestly trusts the other, but there is a certain level of mutual trust.

Deku sighs softly to himself before carrying on, “I always thought I could’ve been a Hero. I clung to that, and I bet you did too. Through it all, that’s what I hung onto. When kids were cruel at school, when those stupid spider lilies were left on my desk. When Bakugou told me to jump...

“I didn’t let it hurt me because I believed it was just steppingstones. Nothing comes easy, and I thought, despite it all, I could’ve become a Quirkless Hero— that these hardships were just hurdles to jump; that All Might would lie to me and let me cling to a childhood dream just a little longer, even if he didn’t mean it.”

Izuku sucks in a stuttery breath as he eases up onto the edge of the building beside Deku. He can’t stand the distance between them now. Not when they’re talking about jumping off this very building. Izuku knows Deku is just sharing his story, but the talk of suicide has him on edge.

Deku quirks his head, now looking a little uncertain about the proximity. It’s the first time in a while the other has even looked at Izuku. The shifting must’ve caught his attention or something.

He stares silently, scrutinizing Izuku, for a moment before tearing his gaze away from Izuku again.

Izuku takes that as permission to settle by Deku.

He shifts until he’s sitting similarly to the other teen, both knees clutched to his chest. He squeezes his arms around his knees, setting his chin in the gap between them, intent to hear his doppelganger out.

“I had a lot of time to think,” Deku mutters into his knee, no longer needing to project to be heard, “three days is a long time. I had no food, no water, no bathroom. It got so cold at night and I... I wondered. Where are the Heroes? Why isn’t anyone coming for me? Is anyone even looking? Why did it seem like everyone was getting rescued except for me? All my life I believed Heroes would be there when I needed them. But they weren’t.”

“They wouldn’t...” Izuku ignores how rough his own voice sounds, “how would they know you were here?”

“I considered that too,” Deku promises drily, and Izuku can tell he’s squeezing his eyes shut, even if Deku is facing away. “I’m not a starstruck little kid anymore. Obviously, they wouldn’t know. They’re Heroes, not wizards. It wasn’t until... until I was rescued that I realized—”

Deku swallows, glaring down at the ground before he shifts the topic. “Look, I thought... I thought it was a mistake. No one could find me, that’s all. That’s why I suffered up there for so long without any help. I gave them the benefit of the doubt.”

Izuku swallows, mouth dry as he squeaks out, “but...?”

Deku stiffens, glancing over only to look away just as fast, “but then I realized no one was even looking.”

A heavy silence settles over them. It’s so heavy and suffocating that Izuku finds it hard to breathe.

Deku still isn’t looking over at him, and there’s no shift in his body language as he lets the silence linger. Izuku wonders if Deku is trying to figure out how to continue, or if he just needed a break.

Finally, the other glances back towards Izuku, nothing more than a quick lull of his head to catch sight of him before his eyes swiftly return to the horizon.

“I was missing for two full nights and not once did my name or picture appear on the news, or even online. I looked. I scoured. A child was missing for two nights, and no one cared. I bet mom was the only one even trying, but do you know how easy it is to ignore one person? No one cared that a Quirkless kid was gone.”

Deku is quiet for a long second before he lets out a humorless laugh, scrubbing at his face with his hands in a way that would’ve made him look deranged if it weren’t for what he was saying, “you know when I finally made the news? When people actually took a second to think about me?”

Izuku shakes his head, even if he has a hunch that he desperately wishes to not be true.

“They cared when I was dead,” Deku barks out another laugh, just as humorless as the last. He shakes his head in disbelief, offering Izuku an exhausted smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. “It took me dying for anyone to give a shit. A suicide report that I know was only aired out of obligation. They didn’t care that I was missing, didn’t bother trying to help me, but as soon as I was gone, they were all too willing put it all behind them.”

“That’s... horrible,” Izuku whispers, wiping his nose against the sleeve of the sweatshirt he wears.

“That’s society,” Deku quips, voice lacking emotion. “That’s just how it is.”

Izuku is quiet for a long second, just thinking.

There’s nothing he can do beside think and consider. Consider everything Deku had told him so far. He’s said so much, answered so many questions already, but Izuku knows it’s only the start. This is just the beginning of Deku’s story, and that thought is unpleasant.

There’s nothing he can say that will make this better, that will right the wrongs. He’s trying to understand this, but he hasn’t gone through this.

This conversation has veered down a path Izuku can no longer relate to.

He’d figured out where they differed— how Deku was shattered by the world where Izuku was uplifted and led to something better. It doesn’t excuse what Deku has done, but it’s explained some things.

He’ll never feel like Deku does, he’ll never live this firsthand.

They’re the same person, technically, but they’re so altered by their own environments, societies, experiences and even the people they come into contact with that they really couldn’t be further from the same.

It’s enough to make his head spin.

Izuku was rescued from the life Deku lives.

Deku remains quiet as well, head angled upwards, and staring intently up at the clouds steadily filling in overhead. It’s a companionable quiet, and Izuku finds he doesn’t hate it. He’s grateful for the second to just think, and process.

So far, Deku is nothing like the heartless Villain everyone kept telling him about. He’s sarcastic, and a bit of a jerk, maybe, but he’s not what Izuku have been expecting.

“How...” Izuku finally manages, angling his head lightly in Deku’s direction. The other teen returns the gesture, glancing down and catching Izuku’s eye as he waits for him to continue, “how did you get down?”

“What?” Deku snaps lightly, voice holding no heat as he stares out into the sky, “you want my entire life story or something?”

“I know your entire life story already,” Izuku clicks his tongue in mirroring annoyance, “I want to know what happened to you.”

Deku turns slightly, studying Izuku. After a long second he shifts, legs now both hanging off the edge with his hands intertwined in his lap. He breathes out a sigh through his nose.

“Dabi found me,” Deku admits quietly. “I was going to jump. I was stood on the edge, shoes beside me. I’d even written a note, I couldn’t just leave mom with nothing, you know? If I was going to die anyways, I thought I might as well make it everyone’s problem; at least be found at some point. I knew then that help wasn’t coming; that Heroes weren’t going to rescue me, and jumping seemed a lot less miserable than starving to death.”

“Dabi?” Izuku tastes the name in question before the distantly familiar name clicks into place, “he... works for the League. He’s a villain.”

“He didn’t,” Deku tells him with a warning glance, “not then, at least. He wasn't a villain when we met, he was just a lost kid from a broken home.”

Izuku narrows his eyes, unsurprised to meet an equally as narrowed gaze when he catches Deku’s eyes. Izuku studies Deku for a long second, matching his squint and reading the warning to not say anything bad. Izuku decides then that it’s probably best to keep any consternation to himself at this point.

Dabi is obviously someone important to Deku, and he doesn’t want to say anything wrong just yet. Not when Deku is actually explaining things.

It’s Deku’s story to tell, and he’s just the audience.

“He used to stay around here, before the League. This is a quiet, isolated place to stay when you’ve got nowhere else to be. He was smoking in the other building and he just... he looked up? He saw me, and he just... stared at me. Made me feel like an idiot, honestly. When he finished his cigarette, he just kinda... yelled up to me— ‘only idiots let others win like this’ is what he said.” Deku pauses, smiles bashfully before adding, “then he told me if I did jump that I should at least do a flip. I was so stunned I stepped down.”

Izuku frowns at that, but Deku just seems amused by it.

Maybe it’s funnier looking back on it? Izuku doesn’t see the humor in a suicide joke while his doppelganger was seriously considering ending it all, but he supposes Dabi is a villain no matter what Deku says.

At least he’d helped Deku in the end.

Deku clears his throat, continuing, “after that he walked up ten stories for me and fought with that stupid lock for over an hour. When I was free, he brought me down to the ground and took me out to get food. This random, scary dude did more for me than any of the Heroes.”

Izuku nods, processing everything.

It’s a lot to think about.

“I told him I was Quirkless,” Deku tells Izuku next, offhandedly. “He just cocked an eyebrow and sipped at his coffee. He talked with me; you know? For hours. For hours, he sat with an emotionally broken, unstable Quirkless kid. I told him everything. And he listened.”

Deku smiles down at his shoes, almost reminiscent.

Izuku can’t find the words to say anything. What are you even supposed to say?

Luckily, Deku continues, “I thought for a long time that day. Dabi just sat with me. I thought about going home. I wanted to see mom. I thought about trying to continue as if everything was normal, as if I hadn’t suffered for days, and the Heroes just let it happen. As if All Might hadn’t shattered the only dream that was keeping me going. The more I thought, the more I... realized—”

Deku draws in a shaky breath, adamantly shaking his head before he glances over at Izuku.

“I couldn’t,” he admits quietly. “I wasn’t the same. You can’t just bounce back from this, you know? Before, I tried to see the best in everything, but everything just kept letting me down. Everyone did. The world. Society. The universe. Heroes, my supposed friends.”

“So you... faked your own suicide,” Izuku knows this already.

He’d come to that conclusion himself. Kacchan had already explained this.

“It was Dabi’s idea,” Deku huffs out fondly, smile wavering before pressing into a straight line. “He told me my life was fucked, and subconsciously, I already knew that. Even if I chose not to believe it. He told me that no matter what I did, no matter how hard I tried, people wouldn’t change. Deep down I already knew that too. My talk with All Might just cemented that. My hero wrote me off too.”

Izuku chews at his bottom lip, tightening his grip on his knees, “so you’ve just... been alone?”

“Oh, no,” Deku shakes his head, “I never would’ve survived on my own. Dabi took me in, and I say that on loose terms. He didn’t really have a place to stay; he was living around here— well, going between a couple of different places, but he said he’d look after me. He comes from a bad home; his dad was super abusive. He never told me much, but... you can just tell, you know?”

“It’s hard to imagine,” Izuku finally voices. Deku glances over with squinted eyes, almost like he’s daring Izuku not to believe him. “About Dabi, I mean. He’s tried to hurt my classmates. He tried to burn my Sensei. Doesn’t really sound like the guy you’re talking about.”

“Look, Dabi has done some shitty things, we all have, but that doesn’t mean he’s some heartless monster. He was the first person to not care that I didn’t have a Quirk. He called us misfits, both of us. He put me and himself on the same level. I’d never been given courtesy like that. He might be a Villain, but that doesn’t mean he’s a monster.”

Izuku takes a second to process that.

He’d known, distantly, that they don’t know why villains are villains. They don’t really care passed getting them off the streets and ensuring public safety, which is very important. All the law and those who uphold it know is that villains do bad things, and that they should be put away so they can’t harm anyone else, but it feels like the whys are always brushed over.

Very little is done without cause, or reason.

That’s becoming clearer by the second.

“Y’know...” Deku hums out softly, “no one is born broken, people break us. I don’t know a lot of Villains, but I know of the ones I have met, a lot of them have had it rough before turning to this. Turning to others who’re broken too. It’s easy to find comfort in people who’re just like you.”

“You had comfort,” Izuku says without really thinking. He bites his lip hard when Deku looks over at him, features bordering between suspicious and curious at what Izuku has to say. Deku doesn’t speak, so Izuku draws in a breath, unable to stop now that he has Deku’s attention. “What about mom?”

He doesn’t mean for it to come out as demanding as it does.

He just can’t help it.

His mother is the one person who’d always been there. Always struggled alongside him. He’s what he is today because he’s had his mom’s support. She was with him through everything, even when she didn’t entirely believe he could achieve his goals.

His heart aches as he thinks about his mom in this reality, after losing her son. He thinks about how Kacchan described her, how his childhood friend had shared her grief and pain, and Izuku feels angry at Deku for doing that to her. Does Deku not feel remorse? Does he not care? Izuku loves his mom more than anything.

“She loves you and you left her. You made her think you were dead.”

“I did what needed to be done,” Deku says sharply, whipping around to glare daggers at Izuku. The sharpness bleeds away, and then Deku just looks tired and mournful. His expression wavers at just the thought of his mom. “I was not the little boy she sent to school that morning; I’ll never be that little boy again, and I couldn’t pretend to be.”

Deku sighs, heavy and defeated, running anxious fingers through his curls, “I love mom. I love her so much. She deserved so much better, I know that. I know it’s fucked up, but she deserved a world where she doesn’t have to watch her son struggle for everything that everyone else takes for granted. Where she doesn't have to suffer along with me. Where she doesn’t have to watch how society treats people like me. I love her, and I know she loves me, but I couldn’t be the little boy she needed. Not anymore. Not after... everything.”

Izuku watches Deku, even as the other boy refuses to look over.

He turns Deku’s words over in his head, and really considers them. It makes sense in some gruesome way. Maybe it was because Izuku grew up the same way as Deku that he could understand where he’s coming from.

Izuku had always known he’d be the odd one out growing up, even when he finally reached adulthood.

He’d known, even from a young age, that he’d always end up with the short straw in life just because he was a little bit different. Society set a mold in front of you, and if you couldn’t conform, it left you to struggle.

Life was cruel in a minority, and Izuku knew from a young age he’d never be like everyone else.

That had changed when he got One for All, when he suddenly fit the mold that society insisted upon, but Deku hadn’t been as lucky.

He could’ve just as easily ended up as Deku. Struggling and doomed to a life others decided was better suited for him, even if it meant jeopardizing his own happiness.

It was a truth Izuku refused to believe throughout his life, whenever anyone would look surprised when he’d tell them he was going to be a Hero, or when they suggested something less dangerous simply because he didn’t have a Quirk.

“I didn’t deserve it either,” Deku whispers, so softly Izuku has to strain to hear it. “I needed a fresh start. I needed people who didn’t torment me for something I couldn’t change about myself. I needed freedom that I never would’ve gotten in school, or as an adult. I hate that me leaving hurt her, but I... I did what was best. I only hurt her once this way. I didn’t know what I’d become, and I wouldn’t be proud to tell her now.”

Izuku nods, slowly but understanding.

“I...” Izuku swallows, staring down at his shoes. “I get it.”

Izuku really can’t answer if he’d do the same thing or not, doesn’t know if he could stomach hurting his mom like this, but he also knows that he’d much rather only hurt her once, make her think he was dead, then to hurt her by having her know he’d become someone who hurts people. He can either preserve the memory of her little boy for her, or he can make her watch her little boy become a villain.

Deku lets out a surprised noise, lulling his attention in Izuku’s direction, “maybe there’s hope for you to be a good Hero then. Empathy is something a lot of Heroes lack, so I didn’t think you’d understand.”

“I’m also you,” Izuku reminds drily. “I’m... trying to understand this. Understand you.”

“That’s more than most of the people who know of me has done,” Deku shrugs, like it doesn’t mean anything to him, but the wetness in his eyes speaks a different story. Deku is quiet again, before he glances over, “what are you thinking?”

“I’m trying to figure out why you decided to jump into Villainy,” Izuku sighs, rubbing at his temples. Karma for lying seems to be hitting him as a headache settles in his skull. “I understand why you decided against trying to be a Hero... and why you decided to kill Midoriya Izuku, I just... what made you decide to terrorize Heroes? They do help people. Society would be worse without people maintaining order.”

“I didn’t decide anything,” Deku frowns, looking genuinely confused. “And I don’t terrorize. I could care less what happens to the Heroes. I give analysis. For money. Plain and simple. It was an income, and honestly, if anyone just looked a little closer, they’d be able to figure it out themselves. It’s not like I had some personal vendetta against Heroes and searched out Villains to carry out my wishes. People came to me. After the name Deku was released, people started seeking me out. Offering to pay for analysis. It’s a real job.”

“It’s a real job when you don’t use it as a weapon. Your analysis hurts people,” Izuku snaps, not quite as angry as he’d been when they first met, but angry enough that Deku doesn’t seem to understand this. “You ruined the Symbol of Peace. You got Heroes hurt— you told Shigaraki how to hurt my teacher.”

“I ruined the Symbol of Peace?” Deku blinks owlishly, staring at Izuku. Izuku makes sure his expression doesn’t waver, keeping Deku’s stare until Deku realizes Izuku is being serious. “Is that really what they told you?”

Deku narrows his eyes, but for the first time since meeting him, it’s not directed at Izuku.

Deku lets out a sigh, unimpressed and sounding drained, “ah, figures.”

“You’re saying that’s not true then?” Izuku frowns, “well, what happened then? All Might’s secret was leaked, and I know you knew. He showed me too. Was that your way into the League?”

“And how fast do you think you become a villain?” Deku asks calmly, seriously. “It wasn’t a snap of my fingers and I’m suddenly some trusted member of a villain gang, and I didn’t search the League out. Even if I did have the intention of leaking the secret to villains, I had no idea how to find them. And it wasn’t my intention at all. I just wanted to not be a target anymore.

“I didn’t even know the League existed until a couple months ago when they were recruiting, and even then, it was Dabi who brought us in. I told Dabi about All Might. That’s it. I vented. Sue me. The Number One Hero told me a couldn’t be a Hero, showed me how dangerous it was, then left me on a roof and I almost died because of it. I think I deserved to vent a little.”

“They knew your name,” Izuku reminds, squinting at the other boy.

“You know what? I’m actually not even surprised. I guess this explains why they suddenly classified me as some stupid supervillain.” Deku shakes his head, frowning. “Answer me this— you meet a strange guy who talks you down from suicide— well, sorta. He’s a little scary, scarred up and obviously not from the best crowds. Are you telling him your real name right off the hop?”

Izuku hesitates, shaking his head mutely.

“Exactly. I introduced myself as Deku; everyone already called me it anyways, so it wasn’t a big deal. I told Dabi about All Might, and he must’ve told somebody else. Trust me, I was just as surprised as everyone else when that fight went down. A lot of people hate All Might, so it was probably valuable info. I watched the news; I didn’t even know the guy arrested for spilling the beans.”

“You’ve done more than just that though,” Izuku scoffs. “What about all the Heroes you’ve hurt? All the Heroes you’ve analyzed? All the lives your analysis has jeopardized. You hurt people. You’re a villain.”

“God, you Heroes just have such a narrow point view,” Deku tuts, mouth pressed in a straight line and head lulled back as he stares up at the clouded over sky. It looks like it’s going to rain. “There isn’t just Villains, and there isn’t just Heroes. The world isn’t so black and white.”

Izuku shifts beside Deku, glancing over but not speaking.

He’s surprised to find the other teen’s gaze, just waiting to make eye contact. Deku arches an eyebrow, like he’s expecting Izuku to disagree, but Izuku is just curious where Deku is going with this.

They’re from different worlds, not just realities, but worlds. Hero and Villain. He’s got a sheltered, Hero’s view, whereas Deku sees things differently. Maybe even more accurately. It’s worth consideration. It might even make him a better Hero, if he understands more.

“Villains aren’t inherently evil, and I hate to break it to you, but Heroes aren’t saints,” Deku continues, voice nothing but a thoughtful mutter, “what you view as evil and villainous, is, more often than you’d think, just people trying to survive. You think I wanted this? You think I wanted to work with Villains? You think I wanted to be an outcast; do you think I would've chosen this if I could’ve been like you? You think I want to work against Heroes when I spent my childhood idolizing them?”

Deku shakes his head, as if answering his own questions, “I’m not on anyone’s side, Midoriya, I’m just surviving however I can. And if that means selling some analysis, or jumping through Shigaraki’s hoops to stay on his good side? Well, I don’t exactly have a lot of options, now do I? At this point, I’m dead if I disobey Shigaraki, and I’ll be sent to Tartarus for life if I go to the Heroes.”

“You’ve hurt people,” Izuku repeats, looking away from Deku, hiding his torn expression from the other teen. “You hurt my teachers, and you’ve hurt so many Heroes. You’re a wanted Villain. I was arrested just because I look like you. How can you just... accept that?”

“I’m not proud of it,” Deku frowns, “I can’t help what the world thinks of me. I can’t help speculation. I can’t help others using my name as a scapegoat. Society sees what it wants to see. What the media, and the police, and the Heroes say. The police operate on hearsay, Midoriya. You think they’ve ever gotten any actual statements from me? That they ever even came into contact with me before the USJ? They know what others have told them, and they believe whatever suits them. I don’t stand a chance against that.”

“You want me to believe that you haven’t done everything they’re saying you have?”

“I’ll admit to what I have done,” Deku shrugs, “I’m not innocent. Far from it. I’ve done analysis for shady people. I’m an accomplice to more than I’d care to admit. I never claimed to be innocent, but just remember it’s easy to put the blame on a name that’s already known if it means easing your own punishment. I don’t know half the people who claim I helped them take out a Hero.”

“I don’t know if I believe you,” Izuku mutters. What he knows of this whole world has just been shifted upside down. Deku is bad, but... what if he’s not as bad as they think he is?

“I didn’t ask you to,” Deku snarks back. “You wanted to know what happened, and I’m telling you. I had no intention of being a Villain when I left Midoriya Izuku on that bridge. I had no intention of forcing All Might into an early retirement with nothing but words. I’m aware what I do is bad, and I know I work with villains. I never said I wasn’t immoral.”

“What about Kacchan?” Izuku questions sharply, “you got him kidnapped. He said you got him kidnapped because you thought you could make him a Villain too. Does that sound like someone having no intention of being a villain?”

“He was going to take one of them anyways,” Deku offers, rubbing at his eyes in exhaustion. He sounds so tired. “I knew Bakugou was too headstrong to take Shigaraki up on his offer. He’s wanted to be a Hero just as long as I have, that’s why I suggested him. I don’t know the other Hero students, and I don’t know who could’ve possibly been convinced. Plus, I knew if it was me asking and riling up, he’d snap. And he did. I tried to help that time. I knew there would be people looking for him. He’d get rescued.”

Izuku opens his mouth to respond but finds he can’t think of anything to say. That... well, it’s not a good plan, but Kacchan is too headstrong to submit to someone like Shigaraki. Izuku had known too that Kacchan wouldn’t agree, he’d frankly thought it was a stupid risk even trying.

Definitely more work than it was worth.

“What about Sensei and the USJ?” Izuku switches topics, “are you telling me there was some grand plan there too?”

“No, just another hoop,” Deku tells him offhandedly. “I did what was asked of me, and then I left. Shigaraki wanted an analysis. He hates losing. That’s all I was there for, and that's all I did. Eraserhead just happened to be the Hero challenging him.”

“You got him hurt— you could’ve gotten him killed! He almost died!” Izuku’s fists ball up in his lap as emotion takes over. He forces the wave of One for All back down as he swallows down the emotion.

“I gave him easy info,” Deku snaps back, “he wanted something to help him take out Eraserhead? Well, I told him his hair floats when he uses his Quirk. Anyone with half a braincell and eyes could’ve seen his hair levitating. Shigaraki could’ve figured that one out himself if he weren’t so lazy and dependent on my analysis. I could’ve gotten Eraserhead killed. I could’ve forced him into retirement. I gave Shigaraki an analysis, but that doesn’t mean it was a good one.”

“What does that mean?” Izuku demands calmly, glaring at Deku.

Just the talk of Aizawa-Sensei being a target is making him uncomfortable.

“That means I could’ve told Shigaraki about his dry eye problem,” Deku snaps, counting each weakness he lists on his fingers. “I could’ve told him to wait Eraserhead out— that his Quirk usage dwindles the more he uses it. The longer he goes, the shorter the intervals he can keep his eyes open without blinking are. I could’ve told Shigaraki to form a mutant team or told him that Eraserhead’s goggles are just a deception so you can’t see where he’s looking, and not protective in the slightest. I could’ve completely sold that man out.”

Izuku lets out a disbelieving laugh, “how can you just admit to that so easily? We’re talking about someone’s life; how can you so casually talk about ruining it? About ending it? This is my teacher’s life. Eraserhead is one of the good ones—!”

“I know,” Deku growls out in offense, “why do you think I protected him? I knew of him before, that analysis just now is years old. I always thought he was cool; do you think I wanted to hurt him? I did as I was asked, but that doesn’t mean I did it well.”

“You... protected him?” Izuku’s mouth has gone dry.

“Not well,” Deku retorts halfheartedly, looking sideways away from Izuku, “but it could’ve been worse. I don’t have it out for anyone. You should see that by now. What I’ve done, I’ve done to survive. To feed myself. To put a roof over my head. I don’t believe in Heroes, but I don’t have anything against them.”

“But you work with Shigaraki.”

“Doesn’t mean I have the same beliefs as him; it’s not that deep. He offered a place to stay if we joined his team, and beggars can’t be choosers. It’s a lot nicer then dumps like this place.”

“That doesn’t make it right!” Izuku snaps heatedly.

Deku lifts one shoulder in a shrug, “I’d rather survive then be right.”

Izuku sputters at that. He opens his mouth to retort, but just ends up snapping it shut in defeat, pointedly looking away from the other teen. Even without looking at Deku, he can feel the other’s prying gaze on him. He’s getting tired of Deku prying into him— is almost thankful he’d put his own analysis on the back burner when he started school.

“I know what I do is bad,” Deku finally admits, voice nothing but a whisper. “I don’t ask questions when I give analysis, because I don’t want to know what it’s used for. I hate seeing the news, but I watch it anyways. I don’t regret what I’ve done, I don’t regret finding a way to survive when the universe turned its back on me, but I mourn the fact I needed to do it.”

Izuku is quiet for a long second, “I’m sorry you felt like you had to do it.”

Deku turns to him in surprise, then offers him a light half smile. It’s barely anything more than an upwards curl of his lips, but it’s so different from the sarcastic and defeated grins he’d gotten thus far that Izuku upsets Izuku more than it probably should.

“I think you’ll do just fine as a Hero,” Deku tells him, turning his eyes back to the sky.

Izuku follows suit, surprised to find the sky darkening. He wonders how long he’s been here with Deku. It’s late enough now that he’s sure classes are out, and he has a bad feeling Aizawa-Sensei is worried.

“It’s getting late,” Deku is the one to break the silence, “any other pressing questions?”

“Well,” Izuku bites his lip, “maybe one?”

“Alright, shoot.”

“What about the Hero Killer?” Izuku asks, thinking back to his conversation with Iida. “A friend of mine had a run-in with him. He said people suspected you were working with him. A serial killer is a lot different from the League.”

“Stain?” Deku hums thoughtfully. “A friend of yours, huh? Oh, wait, you must mean Ingenium's little brother. I saw that on the news as well. Look, I don’t know him well; met him once, when Shigaraki was still recruiting. We talked a bit, about society and about Heroes. I don’t disagree with him, but killing Heroes seemed like a bit much.

“I just told him to be careful, especially if he met any students. Killing Heroes is one thing, but killing kids is a whole new level of bad. I think someone just needed to remind him that society won’t get any better if you don’t give people the chance to learn. He told me he wouldn’t kill any kids before their career actually went Pro. And he didn’t, from what I heard.”

“He hurt him still,” Izuku huffs. “He’s still dealing with his injuries. He’ll never be the same.”

“I don’t know what you want me to tell you. He’s not exactly sane, and his views are grey at best,” Deku snorts out. “But know that he could’ve killed him. If your friend was hurt by Stain, then Stain deemed him fake; didn’t like what he was fighting for. And it’s not like I could’ve stopped him anyways. I know when I’m beat, I mean, have you seen his Quirk?”

Izuku winces, nodding sourly.

He’s quite familiar with Stain’s Quirk.

“I see you’ve encountered him too then,” Deku lets out a breathy laugh, smiling knowingly at Izuku's reaction. “And you lived to tell the tale too. All I know is I spoke from experience, had an actual civil conversation with him and he happened to take it into consideration. That’s it.”

Izuku can’t help but realize how much Deku has tried through all the misfortune.

Shigaraki launches an attack on Yuuei, its staff and the students and Deku subtly withholds what could’ve been damning analysis about Eraserhead. Aizawa-Sensei had survived because Deku half-assed his analysis and Shigaraki was none the wiser.

The League kidnaps a student, conveniently the one student with enough hardheadedness to refuse every sweet offer the League could’ve made. Deku had suggested Bakugou as their candidate for recruitment, and he’s the only one Izuku knows, without a doubt, that they’d never be able to convince. Kacchan is too egotistical to even consider switching sides, he’s got the goal of being Number One in his head, and nothing short of death will deter him.

The League tries to recruit the Hero Killer, and Deku somehow manages to talk the murder out of harming students who haven’t been given a chance to really be a Hero yet. Iida may still be alive today only because of Deku’s advice.

This doesn’t sound like the villain everyone has been telling him about.

The police operate largely on hearsay.

They know what others have told them, and they believe whatever suits them.

“You’re not what they think you are,” Izuku breathes out. “They think that you... they don’t even know what you’ve been doing. All Might, the police. You’re right, all those villains they arrested have played you up to this big, scary super villain but... you’re not.”

“I can’t help that,” Deku furrows his brow. “Also wondering if I should take that as a compliment or be insulted.”

“I could help you.”

It takes Izuku a long second to realize what he’d said, but when his brain does catch up, he can't help but think about how he could help Deku. Everyone thinks Deku is this conniving Villain, and he is cunning, but he’s not entirely their enemy. They’ve had Deku wrong this entire time.

Deku is just staring at Izuku like he’d grown a second head.

“Are you insane?” the other teen snorts out. “Did you miss the part about me having a glaring target on my back? I’m sure every single Hero in Japan wants me dead at this point. If I showed my face, I’d be shipped right off to Tartarus, and you know it. Like you said, you got arrested for just having the same face.”

“They’d be stupid to ship you off right away,” Izuku shakes his head, “you could be an asset. We’re trying to take down the League— you've got information on them. Analysis goes both ways; you could start helping Heroes. They know you’re good at it. You could make a plea deal. Tell them the truth and offer up useful information in exchange for a lesser sentence. Help them take down the League. You’re not what they think you are.”

“And what makes you think I have any analysis on my friends?”

“You’re me,” Izuku grins sharply, “and I’ve got analysis on my friends. You can’t turn it off. I bet you have notebooks filled with leisure analysis that you’ve never even shown anyone. I saw those notebooks at the beach, they’re just like mine. Tell me I’m wrong.”

“Maybe you’re not as dense as I thought,” Deku blows out. “They don’t trust me.”

“They have a lie detector Quirk on hand,” Izuku tells him. “How do you think they verified my story? If you’ve been telling me the truth, they’ll see exactly what I’m seeing. You’re not what they think you are. They’ve been building you up on Villain reports alone. Heroes aren’t out to get you, you're not what they think you are. At best, you’ve been an informant this whole time, and an accomplice at worst. A plea deal will help you.”

“I can’t just switch sides,” Deku scoffs, now looking a little annoyed. “It doesn’t work like that for people like me. I can’t trust them. I shouldn’t trust you.”

“So what?” Izuku grates out, “you’re just going to go back to pretending you’re some dangerous super villain? Go back to hurting people when you have the chance to help them instead?”

“I’m going to stay safe,” Deku sighs, carding his fingers through his hair anxiously. “I know what I’m getting myself into staying with Shigaraki. You, though? You and those Heroes? I’ve been burned before by trusting them. I don’t want to live the rest of my life in prison.”

“But I can help you!” Izuku huffs in exasperation, reaching out to catch the other teen by the arm. He doesn’t get very far as Deku jolts to his feet, hopping off the edge backwards before taking two big steps backwards before Izuku can even blink. “Why are you so afraid?”

“I never asked for help,” Deku snaps in reply. Before Izuku can speak, the other teen is tugging his phone out of his pocket. “I think we’ve chatted long enough. I should go before you arrest me. Do you even have that kind of power here?”

“Wait!” Izuku begs. “I’m sorry, just— trust me!”

A void portal appears just behind Deku at nothing more than a click of a button on his phone. The other boy hesitates for just a second before sighing, “trusting in people like you is what got me into this in the first place. I hope you get back to your reality, alright?”

With that, he steps through.

“You just didn’t trust the right people!” Izuku shouts as the void closes abruptly. Izuku growls to himself as he buries his head between his knees and sighs. He’d been so close to helping Deku. So close to fixing what was wrong here. “Damnit!”

He sits for a long while, eyes squeezed shut. When he finally lifts his head, the sky has transitioned from blue to a setting purpleish-blue. It’s only then that he finally forces himself to unfurl, tucking his hands into his sweatshirt pocket as he stands, trying to find the best way down.

“You really are an idiot,” Izuku grits out, unsure if he’s talking about himself, or Deku.

Monday, Reality

Shota grits his teeth as he hoists a little girl up into his arms.

He swings across the street, repelling from a loose fire escape.

The child clings around his neck, tears soaking into his capture weapon. He lands gracefully on the ground as a flash of green sweeps past him. He pays it no mind besides a quick glance backwards.

“Deku!” a voice, Bubble Girl, Shota thinks, calls loudly but Shota doesn’t bother looking back. Midoriya isn’t his priority right now, getting this child to her family is and getting them all evacuated safely is. “We’ve got a kid down here, don’t engage the villain! Focus on evac, Lemillion and I have this!”

The attack had started late afternoon— an attack downtown.

Shota had gotten the alert for it and had decided to start patrol early so he could lend a hand. It was the biggest attack in the past couple months, probably since the Hosu attack. It was chaotic between the attack and people fleeing, so he’d gotten started on evacuating citizens while leaving the actual villain to Sir Nighteye, who happened to be the first responder to the attack.

He hears a woman frantically calling the name ‘Aiko’, and when Shota turns, he sees a woman rushing towards him. The little girl sobs hard as she squirms to be set down, but Shota keeps hold of her.

When the woman finally reaches him, she grabs desperately for the child, and Shota hands the little girl off to her mother without question. When she’s safely in her mother’s hold, he turns away as the woman clutches the child close to her chest. He anchors his back foot, arches his hand back as he prepares to throw a strand of capture weapon and get back to work when the woman grabs onto his sleeve, making him pause.

“Please,” she begs desperately, clutching her little girl to her body. The child is probably no older than five. “My son! Ame! He’s only four! They were together, with their father! You’ve got to help! Please!”

Shota thinks back to any other children he may have seen lost in the chaos— he hadn’t seen any—

Then he remembers that shout. Midoriya. Bubble Girl sent him to find a kid. There’s no guarantee the child Midoriya was helping is Ame, but it’s the best lead he’s got, “I’ll find him,” Shota promises, “please try to stay calm.”

The woman sobs, but nods, hugging her daughter closer.

Shota heads back the way he came. He spots Bubble Girl and Lemillion, stood in the mouth of a gaping hole in what had been a library, but doesn’t see a flash of green anywhere. Maybe Midoriya got Ame out. He just had to find the kid.

“Deku!” Shota calls loudly.

“Eraserhead,” Shota glances over to Togata. “Deku took the little boy and left. He headed towards the café to avoid the worst of the attack.”

Shota knows exactly what the student is talking about. He bows his head in thanks, but Togata is already helping with the arrest, so he heads towards the café across the street.

He doesn’t make it far.

It’s crying that draws in his attention. His body stiffens as he whips around to find the source and there— alone— is a young boy who looks a lot like the little girl he’d already saved. The boy sobs, one hand fisting into his tee-shirt, while the other fist rubs at teary eyes.

“Ame,” Shota greets, hoping knowing the boy’s name will help gain his trust. He inches closer to the boy, gaze flicking around to spot and sign of Midoriya. He knows his student wouldn’t leave a traumatized child alone, so where the hell is he? “My name is Eraserhead, and I’m a Hero. I’m going to take you to your mommy and sister, alright? Are you hurt?”

The boy sniffles, shaking his head. Shota doesn’t know how he sees past the tears, but he’s not about to question it. He crouches beside the boy, scanning the alley one more time for Midoriya.

There’s something unsettling about his absence that Shota can’t put his finger on.

It’s very un-Midoriya.

“Ame, did another Hero help you outside?”

A slow nod, bottom lip wobbling like he’s about to start sobbing again.

“Okay, where did he go?”

“G-gone,” the boy bursts into tears once again, and it’s at that moment Shota notices the strange glow coming off of the little boy’s hands. He blinks his own Quirk into existence out of habit as spotting something strange, and instantly the ominous glow of the child’s hands is gone.

A Quirk.

Fuck.

Where the hell is Midoriya?

Chapter Text

Tuesday, Reality

Shota stares down at the provisional license on the table in front of him, and beside that, his third cup of coffee that has long since gone cold. He debates having a fourth, but he’s too tired to actually get up and grab one for himself.

He considers, briefly, asking someone to bring one for him, but it feels rude to do so when he’s just a guest here, and everyone has their jobs to be doing.

Besides, Hizashi would surely scold him if he had a fourth cup of coffee.

Twenty-one hours, give or take.

That’s how long Midoriya has been missing for.

Twenty-one hours of having no idea where one of his students is. Twenty-one hours since he’d seen that green blur of Quirk launching past him, only to disappear without a single trace just moments later. Twenty-one hours since Shota had found the lost little boy, Ame, completely alone with Midoriya’s provisional license at his feet.

Shota shuts his eyes, draws in another breath, before forcing tired eyes open once again.

His attention drops back to the card, mouth straightening into a flat line as he narrows his eyes on the photo in the corner of the card.

Midoriya’s nervous face stares right back at him.

Shota can’t help but feel like the world’s worst teacher— one of his students is missing. One of his students, who he has current guardianship over, is missing.

This is a first for him.

He can’t help how his stomach tightens with guilt.

Shota is currently sitting at Nighteye Agency, the agency that had agreed to take Midoriya in as an intern just days prior. Of course, the kid goes missing on his first real patrol, his first day out with Togata and Bubble Girl, and a couple of Sir Nighteye’s other interns and Sidekicks.

Honestly, what else could’ve gone wrong?

Shota supposes he almost should’ve anticipated this happening when he’d signed off on the internship enrollment paperwork. Midoriya has been in the center of most of the incidents he’d had to deal with since accepting his next year of Hero hopefuls, whether meaning to or not, he’s been front and center.

1-A certainly has kept him on his toes since that first day, and Midoriya seems to always be looped into just about every scheme the students get up to.

Shota should know, Midoriya Izuku is one of the more repetitive names he’s always writing on incident reports. He seems to attract trouble, and clearly that extends to his internship too.

Shota brushes away the thought, forcing himself back to the matter at hand.

They’d spent nearly an entire day and well into the evening scouring the attack sight for any signs of the teenager, even though Shota had an awful, sinking feeling in his chest that they weren’t going to find Midoriya anywhere.

The expanse of the attack had been fairly well contained— maybe a street’s worth of damage, the library that the Villain had crashed through before finally being apprehended in being the worst of the damage.

Since the attack had taken place midday, in the middle of the week, so it wasn’t overly busy.

The area of attack wasn’t a heavily populated area either, and considering the time of day, the foot traffic was minimal. Shota had heard that a couple search and rescue and location-based Quirks had been deployed to find any civilians caught in the destruction, and rescue units on scene for those who’d been hurt.

Still, there was wreckage and a chance that people might’ve been hurt in the attack, or maybe even gotten stuck or pinned somewhere when buildings weren’t entirely structurally sound anymore.

There had been no casualties as a result of the attack, but there had been dozens of injuries.

There was locating Quirks deployed, thermal Quirks scouring for heat signatures under the minimal debris of the half-collapsed building. They had a whole arsenal of Quirks in use.

Shota had prayed that they would find Midoriya in the destruction— anything that would’ve given the kid logical reason to leave that child alone, because Shota knows it’s just not in Midoriya’s character to leave a little kid alone at a time like that— it was a horrible thought, but not as bad as knowing one of his students is missing in action. Not as bad as having one of his kids gone, disappearing without a trace.

Shota had brought Ame back to his mother and sister when he’d finally forced his feet to work again after the shock of hearing the small child tell him Midoriya was gone, making sure his own Quirk stayed active so Ame’s probably newly manifested and possibly dangerous Quirk was erased until they could get him into a pair of Quirk-cancelling bracelets that all police squad cars are equipped with these days, and then get the young boy in to see a Quirk specialist.

Shota has a very, very bad feeling that Ame had accidentally done something to Midoriya.

Shota just has no idea what, and until they can look into Ame’s families Quirk registry, they won’t know what could’ve happened to the teenager.

Shota doesn’t really get a chance to ask either, as Ame passes out from what Shota expects to be Quirk exhaustion, and the family is carted off to the hospital by ambulance as soon as Ame’s Quirk is neutralized by Quirk bracelets.

For a long second after Shota watches the ambulance leave, he can just stare at the street it turned off on, unable to force himself back into action. He draws in a couple unsteady breaths before putting his façade back on and turning back to the chaos behind him.

Answers will come, but for now they need to rule out Midoriya actually being trapped somewhere, or injured. Shota has a bad feeling they’re not going to find the kid, but trying is the most logical thing they can do right now.

Everyone working on search and rescue is told to keep an eye out for Deku, but as the hours of the search tick by, no sign of the kid is even so much as spotted.

There’s nothing left of Midoriya besides his provisional license that Shota hadn’t let go of since finding.

It hadn’t taken long for the news of the missing student to circulate the teachers at Yuuei— Shota had known it wouldn’t be long for the news to spread when he’d sent a short but professional update to Nezu, exactly what he knew of the situation, which wasn’t actually a lot.

Midoriya was missing, and that was just as much the school’s priority, considering he was first and foremost their student, as it was his current internship placements, who was currently responsible for him as an intern just starting out.

This isn’t something they can just keep under wraps from everyone, even if keeping his disappearance out of the news coverage of the attack was top priority.

They simply didn’t need the media sticking its nose in this.

Shota knows Nezu would update the staff, and get into contact with Midoriya-san and update her on the situation and what they know, even if they did find Midoriya in the next little while.

Shota may have current guardianship over his class with the dorm's instatement, but that doesn’t mean Midoriya-san isn’t still his primary guardian, and she deserves to know that her son is, as of now, missing. His provisional license doesn’t change the fact that he’s still a minor.

A few teachers were quick to show up at the scene to help look for Midoriya.

Thirteen had been the first, arriving in in their Hero costume and beelining for the search and rescue units to see where they were needed. Shota won’t ever admit to the breath of relief he lets out when he sees Thirteen helping out in the search.

Thirteen is an amazing Rescue Hero, and if anyone will be able to find Midoriya, if he is here somewhere, Shota knows it’ll be Thirteen who does it. Plus, after the USJ, he trusts them with his students.

Sir Nighteye had yet to arrive on scene despite his Agency being the first to respond to the report of a villain attack, but Bubble Girl had still ordered the interns and Sidekicks on scene with her to keep an eye out for Deku as the evacuation and search progressed throughout the day and into the evening.

Lemillion had been the first to jump into the search for his fellow student, and Shota was relieved by the couple other interns around who’d been quick to jump on the order.

Following Thirteen’s arrival from the school was Yagi.

Shota is a bit surprised to see the man, honestly, since after his fight with that villain where he’d lost the ability to use his Quirk, Yagi had been doing more behind the scenes work.

Shota is just glad someone else is here to help find the kid— after all, they didn’t need All Might to find the teenager, they needed people willing to look and help, and Yagi was crafty and knowledgeable in this field.

All Might had been a Hero for a long time now, and he obviously knew what he was doing. Plus, it was always nice to have a Hero veteran lending a hand, even if not everyone realized the scrawny skeleton man was the former number one Hero.

He had been in the world of Heroics longer than half the people on scene had even been alive after all.

Shota is sure Midoriya would appreciate knowing All Might was here, helping look for him.

Shota isn’t sure if Nezu asked them to come down when he learned of Midoriya’s disappearance, or if they’d done it of their own merit at hearing a student was currently unaccounted for, but he’s grateful to see help, who he knows would move heaven and earth for their students, showing up on scene.

It was a while later that some of the students arrived in.

Only a handful of them, the ones who’d still been in the dorms and had been interning within the city. They arrive late, almost the evening, but the search for civilians and Midoriya is still going on.

Shota has half a mind to send them back to the dorms, but more people means more eyes scouring the site for their missing teenager, so Shota caves and lets the few 1-A kids who’d shown up help.

After a quick headcount of who’s here, Shota determines that the students here, are the ones who’d been staying in the dorms through their internships, interning around Musutafu with more local Heroes help look for their missing classmate.

A lot of students are interning outside of Musutafu, with Pros across Japan, but some had chosen Heroes closer to home, like Midoriya and Togata.

Sir Nighteye is the last to arrive on scene, but to be fair, Shota is aware of the fact that he’d been dealing with the police and the villain down at the station, so Shota gives him a pass on that.

He knows the kind of paperwork that would come with a rampaging villain being apprehended by your agency, and it’s not like Sasaki hadn’t cared at all, he’d had his agency working on Midoriya’s disappearance since the kid vanished.

Sasaki glances around the organized chaos of Quirk users and Heroes, before zeroing in on Bubble Girl and a few other Sidekicks and interns talking seriously.

It’s not until after he’s spoken with his Sidekick does Sir Nighteye look truly serious at the fact that Midoriya had actually disappeared in the middle of a villain fight.

It’s a look, Shota thinks, the man should’ve arrived on scene with when he’d already been informed that a student intern at his agency is missing in action. This is serious— Midoriya is still a child, even with his provisional license and the fact that he attends Yuuei.

Shota isn’t quite sure how to feel about that— the man needing it verified from a Sidekick, like he believes Midoriya would just willingly disappear in the middle of helping people. That Midoriya would leave a terrified four-year-old that he’d just taken from the heart of an arrest, alone in the middle of an alley.

Something about that rubs Shota the wrong way, especially when they’re talking about his blindly heroic student, who Shota knows has not one single self-preservation impulse in his entire body when it comes to helping people.

He has more important things to be worried about though, so Shota pushes the feeling down, and turns back to Thirteen, who is making her way towards him.

Midoriya was officially classified as a missing child when the recovery mission came to a close.

Shota had long since sent his students back to the dorms for the night, they all still had internships to return to the following day, after all, leaving just Shota, Yagi, Thirteen, Sir Nighteye, detective Tsukauchi (who’d arrived in at some point? Shota hadn’t noticed) and a handful of Nighteye Agency Sidekicks.

Emergency vehicles had greatly dwindled down as the hours passed, and now, all that was remaining was one single police squad car, that probably belonged to Tsukauchi, and a search and rescue truck that was currently being loaded up as clean-up and construction crews arrived in to secure the area.

Like with any villain attack, or unstable public place, once cleared of civilians, they’d need to section the destruction off from the public so no one else got hurt or stumbled in.

Shota had stood in the background, thumbing along the hard plastic edging of Midoriya’s license as that sinking feeling in his stomach grew as he watched yellow caution tape being stretched along what was once a library until something sturdier could be brought in.

Shota knows, at this point, there’s nothing more to be done here.

Midoriya just isn’t here.

He’s gone.

You can’t argue with location-based Quirks checking for bodies and heat signatures under the rubble and the worst of the attack, and coming up short. There was no one under the debris, not even the missing Heroics student.

Which, logically, was amazing news in the grand scheme of things.

It was always relieving for Heroes and first responders to find out no one had been critically injured, or killed in a villain attack. That’s always the best-case scenario when it comes to things like villain rampages.

Shota isn’t sure if he’s relieved or not to finally have the conclusion that Midoriya is actually gone.

He watches with sore eyes, swallowing down the bile like anxiety filling his chest as everything sinks in, knowing the site was cleared of any casualties, thankfully, but still not knowing where his student was.

Everyone had been evacuated, and rescued, and there was no trace of anything underneath the collapsed library, and not only that, but everyone who’d been a victim of the attack had given statements to police, or been sent off to the hospital, and not a single person had had green hair.

The kid was completely unaccounted for.

Midoriya was quite literally missing.

Shota just doesn’t understand— how could a teenaged boy just vanish into thin air? He’d seen a blur of green shoot past him as he carried Aiko to safety, he’d heard Bubble Girl talking to the teen, directing him into action.

It’s not like the kid hadn’t been there to begin with; Midoriya had been on the scene, placed there by multiple different people, and then—

And then he was gone.

Without a trace.

Shota just couldn’t wrap his head around this.

The kid had just been there— Shota had turned his back for a second, and now Midoriya was gone.

There were already so many people who’d seen the kid there. Deku had been placed on that scene by so many people— Shota himself, Bubble Girl, Lemillion, even a couple first responders reported seeing the flash of green shooting around them as Deku helped with evac.

And he doesn’t even have a single clue where the teenager could’ve gone, besides the nagging thought that Ame might be the accidental culprit here.

Shota knows there’s no way Midoriya could be buried under the building— Quirks have come a long way when it comes to search and rescue, and the accuracy some of them have is frankly insane. Not to mention the fact that Midoriya was with Ame before he disappeared, the child vouching for that through his cries, and Ame hadn’t been anywhere near the crumbling library when Shota found him alone.

Midoriya had been there, with Ame where Shota had found the child, had gotten the little boy away from the worst of it, and then he’d disappeared.

But where the hell had he gone following that?

Shota has known Midoriya for months at this point, probably knows these kids better than they know themselves at this point. He knows their potential, and he’s seen what they’re capable of; he’s watched them push past their limits.

He knows these kids, and because of that, Shota knows wholeheartedly that Midoriya would never just leave a child alone in the heat of an attack like that. Never willingly.

Nothing made sense.

The only way Shota could ever imagine Midoriya leaving a child alone like that, without making sure they were safe, either with police, first responders or the child’s family, far away from the dangers of the attack, would be because he was literally forced away.

The thought has Shota’s stomach churning.

A feeling he hadn’t been able to shake even for a second since it had struck him as he erased Ame’s Quirk, and picked the sobbing child up to reunite with his mother and sister.

“Well,” Sir Nighteye had been the one to clear his throat drily, pushing his glasses up his nose as he glances a sharp gaze around the remaining group, “I suppose it’s time we entertain the idea that a Quirk was involved.”

Yeah, no shit.

And that’s what leads Shota to now.

Sitting tucked away in one of Sir Nighteye’s conference rooms, nursing his third cup of coffee and staring down at the teenager’s license. It’s the only thing they have left of the kid— the only physical proof that they have that he was there, and then he wasn’t.

The room has been in constant use, people coming and going.

Yagi has been a reoccurring face, as well as Tsukauchi and Sir Nighteye. Shota comes and goes from the room too, to make calls, stretch his legs and grab more coffee, but he spends the most time in the conference room.

The circle of knowledge is small; they’re not yet at the point where they want the public involved. Not until they have all the facts and have exhausted all other ideas first.

Sasaki had tried to dismiss Shota like he’d dismissed Togata and Bubble Girl late last night, but the underground Hero was having none of that. Sasaki might’ve taken the disappearance on under his agency, since Midoriya was one of their own, but that doesn’t mean Shota will just step back from this.

Midoriya was his student, first and foremost, and if Sasaki thinks Shota will just leave this to him and his agency when he can, and will, be helping, he’s sorely mistaken.

That said, he lets himself take the backseat in the case. This is still a Nighteye Agency case, and though Shota won't leave entirely, he also won’t impede on another agency’s case.

Besides, Sasaki already has Yagi, Tsukauchi and probably Nezu breathing down his neck, so Shota knows it won’t be long until things start moving and they finally have some answers.

Midoriya has quite the group of people devoted to him; Shota had never really realized that before.

“Aizawa-san?” Shota looks up at the call of his name, unsurprised to see a sheepishly smiling Yagi holding two paper to-go cups. The smile doesn’t reach the man’s eyes, worry more prominent than anything else, and he looks about as tired as Shota feels. “I figured you might want some real coffee while we wait for some news? Young Togata assured me this place had really good coffee.”

Looks like he’ll be getting that fourth coffee after all, Shota muses as he bows his head gratefully and accepts the man and his peace offering into the room.

Shota is hyper aware of the former Pro settling into the chair next to him, but he simply slumps further in his seat as Yagi settles, the blonde’s own gaze straying to the provisional license on the table even as he slides the coffee he brought for Shota over to him.

Shota lets the warmth of the coffee seep into his hands as he curls them around the paper cup, his own gaze falling back onto Midoriya’s face.

“The child is awake and well,” Sasaki says as he enters the room.

It’s Shota, Yagi and Tsukauchi in the room already. Sasaki glances around quickly, scanning them all before marching forth and settling gracefully at the head of the table.

“He woke up?” Shota questions, hands still clutched around his long-empty coffee cup. The last he’d seen of the kid was when he and his mother and sister were being loaded into an ambulance, the little boy’s consciousness fading fast. “Is he okay? Does he know anything?”

“He’s fine,” Sasaki bows his head in a nod. “I have Bubble Girl over at the hospital with the family. Ame is on a mild Quirk suppressant until he’s discharged. As far as my Sidekick has said, a Quirk specialist appointment is already booked. The chance of another Quirk accident is slim.”

“Another?” Yagi cocks his head, “so we’re certain young Ame used his Quirk on young Midoriya by accident?”

“Fairly,” Sasaki confirms lowly. “We can’t be completely sure— Ame's recount is hazy a best, as expected from a child. That said, he confirms Deku being there, and then suddenly being gone. The next thing he remembers is you showing up, Aizawa.”

“So what happened to Midoriya then?” Tsukauchi asks the question they’re all thinking. Shota glances over at the detective before letting his gaze continue to the head of the table. “Where is he? What’s the kid’s Quirk?”

At this, Sir Nighteye hesitates.

Shota isn’t sure he’s ever seen the arrogant Pro hesitate like this before, and it makes him uneasy. Hesitation is never good. Hesitation means worry. Hesitation means fear. Hesitation means uncertainty.

All of which Shota doesn’t want to see when they’re talking about a high schooler who’d been hit by an unknown, newly manifested Quirk. Shota’s high schooler— one of his students.

“Sasaki,” Shota drawls out tensely, “what happened to my student?”

“I had Bubble Girl inquire about the family’s Quirks,” the man starts slowly, hands interlaced together on the table top and eyes sharply flicking between the three other men. “Michi, the mother, is a therapist. And Ame’s father, Rōnin, is a teacher.”

“Okay,” Shota huffs, “what does that have to do with this? Where the hell is my student right now?”

“We don’t know exactly,” Sasaki leans back in his chair slightly. “We can’t know. There is a very good chance that Ame’s Quirk caused Midoriya’s disappearance, and I can’t think of anything else to explain it. You all know just as well as I do that Quirk durations can’t be determined without testing— testing the boy certainly hasn’t had yet.”

“Hang on, the longest anyone has ever been affected by a Quirk of this nature belonging to someone else is a week exactly,” Tsukauchi blinks in surprise, glancing between Shota and Yagi before his gaze settles on Sasaki again. “It made headlines.”

“Yes,” the man sighs, looking towards the ceiling thoughtful before looking back down, eyes on Shota like he’s trying to gage his reaction, “with a newly manifested Quirk, we can’t know for sure when he’ll be back. It could be hours, a week— possibly longer. It depends on how strong the Quirk is.”

“Wait, wait, you just said when he’ll be back,” Shota repeats stiffly, the words making the hair on his arms stand on ends as a weight settles in his stomach. “What the hell is that supposed to mean? Back from where, exactly?”

Sasaki frowns.

“Mirai,” Yagi sits up straighter as the silence from the man lingers, staring intently at his ex-Sidekick, “please, get on with it. What do you know of young Ame’s Quirk? What do you know about young Midoriya’s whereabouts right now?”

“We have speculation,” the man mutters, about as apologetic as Sir Nighteye can get. “Michi, Ame’s mother, has a mind-based Quirk. Her inventive practice is called ‘Crossroads’, and it’s actually quite popular from what Centepider found online. According to her, she’s able to isolate specific memories of any willing participant and show them a possibility of what could’ve happened if they went another direction during a life altering event. Choosing a career, marriage, or having children, as a few examples.”

Sasaki pauses, jaw tightening, “that, of course, is all in theory. Michi claims her patients reinvent the alternate vision themselves, and she plays no part in it and she does is give them an experience in it from a third person view.”

“Mind boggling stuff,” Shota deadpans as he sinks lower in his chair, “great.”

Sasaki shoots Shota an annoyed look before continuing, “and Rōnin, the father, has a travel Quirk not entirely different from that of the League of Villain’s portal-void user’s Quirk. Bubble Girl didn’t get a chance to talk to him, as he’s recovering from a head injury from the attack yesterday, but Michi explained it.”

“Wait, like the League?” Tsukauchi’s brow furrows, “we’ve had analysists view the video of Kurogiri using his warp Quirk from the USJ. As far as we can tell, so long as he has specific coordinates, he can open a portal to any specific destination. Are you saying Rōnin’s Quirk is like that?”

“Yes,” Sasaki’s mouth presses in a straight line, “though not as powerful, he’s able to freely move from himself from one destination to another. It’s not coordinated based. Rōnin’s Quirk relies on visuals, he can only travel to a specific destination he’s personally been to.”

“Okay,” Shota cocks an eyebrow as he lets everything sink in, “so, what exactly does that mean for Midoriya?”

“We think Ame might be a bit more powerful than his family,” Sasaki sighs, pushing his glasses up just enough to rub at his eyes, “we all know the Quirk theory of the new generation growing stronger— we’ve seen it, look at Endeavor’s youngest son for example. Quirks are combining and mutating into something more powerful, and they’ll only keep getting stronger with each new generation. We have a transportation Quirk, and a Quirk that, theoretically, alters someone’s point of view.”

“So what are you getting at, exactly?” Shota asks bluntly, “tell me you’re not honestly trying to tell us that Midoriya vanished to another universe or something, are you? That that kid, a four-year-old, sent him to another world?”

“Of course not,” Sasaki scoffs, narrowing his eyes, “we believe he was sent to an alternate reality.”

Saturday, Alternate Reality

The trip back to Yuuei is a quiet one.

Izuku is just so... upset with himself. He’s angry and frustrated, and sad and genuinely disappointed in himself. He’s never felt emotions like this, has never not been able to save someone. It’s probably a lesson he would’ve learned later in his Hero career, you can’t save everyone, he knows, but he wishes it didn’t have to be himself that he couldn’t save.

He just... he can’t forgive himself for not managing to convince Deku to surrender.

He knows he could help fix this, that his reality double doesn’t have to struggle like this anymore.

He knows now, has seen this big scary villain everyone is terrified of who is in reality just a teenager hurt by the world and everyone in it, struggling to find any way he can to survive. He’s heard Deku’s story, assuming it’s the truth, which Deku has no reason to lie about, and Izuku hurts for him.

How had it gotten to this point? How had this all snowballed until Deku was no longer an informant working under the table (for the wrong side of the law, Izuku knows, but there’s a big difference between spreading information and active villainy), but a feared villain that people just keep building up.

The teenager Izuku had just met up on that rooftop hadn’t been the most moral, but he wasn’t a villain.

He hurts for the one of them who’d drawn the short straw and ended up on such a bad path in life.

They have Deku completely wrong, and he’d been so close to helping everyone— he'd had Deku at arm's reach, he now understands this reality’s Midoriya Izuku, and he’d still just let him disappear without a trace.

He’d had Deku right there, they’d sat calmly side by side and saw each other eye to eye, and yet, even with One for All in his arsenal, and having had the knowledge that he and Deku think so similarly, Izuku had still let the other slip between his fingers and disappear.

He should’ve seen it coming. If roles were reversed, and another Midoriya Izuku had randomly offered something that sounded too good to be true, Izuku is sure he would’ve found a way out too. It sounds like a trap, even if it really isn’t.

It’s hard to trust someone so blindly, especially when you’re in deep trouble and everyone you’re ever looked up to has let you down in some way or another.

It’s even harder to trust yourself.

Izuku shoves his hands further into the pockets of his sweatshirt, pinching that little folded up paper between his fingers. Before meeting Deku, the paper had felt like mystery— a puzzle he needed to solve to get to the bottom of this reality’s him, but now it just felt like failure.

He’d been so close, but he’d still left empty handed.

He knew why now, that had been his sole intention when he’d decided to accept the dangers of meeting up with Deku. It was only after he’d listened to this reality’s most feared, that Izuku had hoped to help him.

He knows that it’s unlikely anyone would even believe him if he tried to plead Deku’s case to anyone now. Not when he’s showing up without the villain in question.

Words mean nothing.

They know what they’ve been told about Deku, and Izuku isn’t stupid enough to believe that anything he says, especially when it directly contradicts what they believe to be true about his doppelganger, won’t even be considered, Hero student or not.

He simply has no pull, and this world despises Deku.

All Might had been willing to use sheer physical power when he’d even just thought Deku was in the school. Sensei had wrapped him up in his capture weapon and arrested him on the spot when Izuku had sought him out. Principal Nezu threatened Japan’s most secured prison, and detective Tsukauchi had been hesitant to believe him even when Izuku had passed his Lie Detection Quirk.

Maybe Deku had been right to flee. Izuku can make empty promises, but the more he thinks about it, the more he doubts he could make good on anything. You can’t just change someone’s opinion about something, someone, and expect everything to be fine and dandy.

This has escalated far further than Izuku is capable of helping with.

Deku is public enemy number one— believed to be this dangerous analyst that has a vendetta against all Pro Heroes, when in reality, he’s been sticking to the shadows since the beginning and taking the fall for things he only hears about when the rest of the world does by news coverage.

It sucks.

And it sucks even more that Izuku can’t help.

Izuku steps off the train, bottom lip trapped between his teeth. He worries his lip between his teeth until he feels that sharp sting of broken skin, and faintly tastes coppery blood on his tongue.

He sighs, bowing his head even further, eyes trained on the ground.

He knows he could try to please Deku’s case, but what if that backfires? What if this backfires on him, and the trust he’d managed to build with Aizawa-Sensei, and the students, and even All Might is shattered? Would they decide he’s suddenly a risk? That he’s working with Deku?

What would he do then?

He’d already taken an unnecessary risk going to meet Deku without telling anyone, what if he gets them both into trouble by talking; by trying to plead Deku’s case.

It’s still up in the air how long this reality hopping Quirk he’s under will last for, and he really doesn’t want to spend the rest of his time, or maybe even the rest of his life, if he doesn’t manage to find his way home, locked away in a prison or something.

He needs to consider if this is a risk he wants to take.

It would be different if he had Deku with him, someone to take the risk for, but is it worth it if he just ends up messing things up for Deku, and possible himself as well?

The Yuuei gates come into view, and Izuku blows out another heavy breath.

He pulls Kacchan’s card from his pocket, sawing the edge of the card against the joints in his fingers as he steps towards the gates. He lifts a hand, and scans the card.

The doors open, and Izuku goes to take a step onto campus and—

“Where the hell have you been?” Sensei snaps angrily, grabbing Izuku by the wrist with his capture weapon. The material curls around the joint of his wrist, tightening faintly until it just edges at painful. Izuku knows better than to try and tug free— Sensei could really tighten the coils until it hurt, but he doesn’t, so Izuku remains still.

Sensei has amazing control of the fabric, Izuku is always amazed by it.

“S-Sensei,” Izuku stutters out when he finally manages to draw himself back to the angry demand for an answer. Izuku had been afraid of this happening when he’d decided to leave that morning. “I’m sorry, I—”

“You’re sorry?” the man demands, eyes narrowed sharply, “and what are you sorry for, huh? Are you sorry for sneaking out— of not only the dorms, but off of school campus entirely knowing you’re a potential target? Are you sorry for not telling anyone, so we have absolutely no idea where you are? Are you sorry for taking a school ID that doesn’t belong to you and leaving without a single word, Midoriya? Are you sorry for being gone all day, without even considering that people may be worried about you?”

“Sensei—”

“No,” the man growls, tugging Izuku closer by his wrist. “I don’t want your apologies, Midoriya.”

Izuku is distantly reminded of the Quirk apprehension test on that first day as he stumbles to catch his footings, peering up nervously at Sensei’s infuriated eyes. There’s barely a few inches between them, and Izuku is surprised to admit he’s still just as terrified of an angry Aizawa-Sensei as he’d been that first day.

He knows the man won’t hurt him, but Izuku still feels anxiety festering in his chest.

The underground Hero is practically seething, “did you even take a second to think about what could’ve happened to you out there? You have that— that Quirk, or whatever the hell it is that you got from All Might. We don’t know how much they know about you. What if the League got their hands on you? Or Deku? What if a Villain, or even a Hero, recognized you as Deku and arrested you? Or worse? Do you have any idea what you could’ve ran into out there?”

Izuku draws in an unsteady breath.

“I trusted you,” the underground Hero grits out when Izuku can’t seem to find his voice, the coils around his wrist loosening. “You put yourself in unnecessary danger. You took an ID card from one of my students. Did you even consider Bakugou might get in trouble for that? Losing an ID is careless— leaving school grounds without permission is careless, and it’s his card that left. Bakugou will be facing consequences for his carelessness. An active school ID should’ve never made it into your hands, Midoriya.”

“He didn’t know I took it,” Izuku whispers out, squeezing his eyes shut. “I-I stole it. He didn’t... please don’t get Kacchan in trouble, he had no part in this! It was all me, I’m sorry, Sensei!”

“Don’t lie to me, Midoriya,” Sensei snarls, the capture weapon finally releasing his wrist entirely, only for Sensei to grab a fistful of the shoulder of Izuku’s hoodie, like he’s a flight risk suddenly. “I know exactly where Bakugou keeps his ID card and there’s no way you could’ve managed to steal it from his pocket without his knowledge. Try again.”

“I’m sorry,” Izuku forces out, vision wet with tears as Sensei leads him in the direction of the 1-A Heights Alliance building. “You-you’re right, I... I asked for it and he gave the card to me. He didn’t want to, but I wouldn’t let up. I demanded. I guilted him. Please don’t punish him. It was all me. It was my idea, Sensei, I searched him out, and I didn’t take no for an answer, and I disregarded his warning. I-I just—”

Izuku sucks in an unsteady breath when his brain reminds him that he hadn’t been breathing. His lungs burn as he lifts the hand not held down by Sensei’s grip to his face to furiously rub away the tears.

He can’t tell if these emotions are just pent up from his chat with Deku, his failure, or if it’s just Sensei’s narrowed gaze that has him sobbing like a scolded child.

“You just what?” the Hero demands, voice carefully neutral. It’s not blatantly angry anymore, but it’s also not gentle, though that is the direction it leans towards.

“I just needed air,” Izuku babbles out, squeezing his hands into fists at his side. The healing skin on his injured hand strains slightly as he pulls it taut, but a big part of his mind assures him he deserves the pain after everything. “It’s all so much, Sensei, I just... I needed to walk. I needed to go for a little while. To clear my head. I-I'm so tired of bothering you with every little thing, and, and I knew you were busy with the students. I’m exhausted cooped up in here. I just wanted to feel regular again—”

He supposes what he ends up blurting out isn’t exactly the truth, but it also isn’t entirely a lie either.

He does feel like that.

He’s been trying to assure everyone, himself included, that he was fine, but at the end of the day, nothing is what he knows. It’s overwhelming, and no one in this reality, or even in his own reality, will ever be able to understand what this feels like. To watch your entire life disappear instantly and to be dropped into something that’s painfully the same, just without you.

Izuku thinks Sensei must hear the genuine distraught in the excuse, as his expression softens slightly, and the tight fist clutching at the fabric of his sweater loosens faintly.

“You were reckless,” the man states calmly, “you should’ve said something, not acted out on your own. You are a target here; don’t make things easy for the other side. We could’ve figured something out that would’ve granted you the freedom you craved in a safe way. You need to realize that your actions don’t just reflect on you, but on Bakugou as well. He may not have left campus, but he played a part your little scheme too.”

“He didn’t want to,” Izuku sniffles out.

“And yet he still did,” Sensei huffs in a clipped tone. “He’s already been assigned an additional day of house arrest. He should know better than to hand over his ID card to anyone, and he should’ve contacted me as soon as you left, if not before. And you should count yourself lucky that I’m not cruel enough to ground you to the spare room in my apartment, or you’d be getting the same treatment.”

Izuku bows his head shamefully.

“And speaking of,” Sensei glances over, “hand over the ID card. I don’t trust you right now to return it yourself, and I don’t want a repeat of this. I’m sorry this all feels like a punishment, but your safety is more important than your freedom at this point.”

When Izuku looks up, Aizawa-Sensei's hand is outstretched, palm upwards and waiting for the ID card.

Izuku frowns as he digs in his pocket, fingers quickly finding and grabbing at the student ID. His fingertips brush against the note from Deku as he goes to pull his hand free, and a new wave of guilt washes over him as he finally extracts his hand, card and all.

He sets the card in Sensei’s hand, looking away guiltily when the man’s hand closes around the plastic.

“Thank you,” Sensei nods, slipping the card into one of his own pockets as he continues to lead Izuku along back towards the dorms. “So did your off-campus stroll help at all?”

Izuku bobs his head in a nod, unsure how to answer without answering.

This is just proof that Kacchan didn’t tell Sensei why he was actually leaving campus, and that the Hero doesn’t know. Not that Izuku had been expecting Kacchan to rat him out or anything. It just seemed unlikely that Sensei wouldn’t have known or found a way to drill into Kacchan and get the information he was after.

Honestly, Izuku had half expected him to know from the get-go; he knows there are cameras set up around school grounds and in the main areas of the dorms, but it’s a weight off his shoulder that Sensei appears unaware.

A small part of him thinks he should at least be showing the man the note— it's not like Deku will be there waiting around a second time if his Sensei does manage to puzzle out the message, which would be unlikely without the experience of meeting All Might that day, but Izuku doesn’t want to get himself into any more trouble.

Especially when Sensei is at the point where he’s calming down.

It’s one thing to sneak off to clear your head, it’s another entirely to sneak off to meet up with his alternate self, who just so happens to be this reality’s current most dangerous villain without any backup.

If Sensei was angry about the sneaking out, he’s sure to be pissed about the villain meeting.

Maybe Izuku should just let that failure rest. He can’t help Deku if Deku doesn’t want to be helped, but he can save himself from punishment for something he doesn’t need to tell his teacher about, right? If Deku doesn’t want help, doesn’t want Izuku’s help, there’s no reason to tell his teacher about the meeting.

“I... feel better,” Izuku admits, even though he sorta feels worse. The failure sits like a rock in his stomach, and the knowledge that Deku isn’t what they think he is settles in his lungs and makes it feel like he can’t breathe.

Aizawa-Sensei sighs, nodding his head, “I’m glad, kid. Just don’t do this again. I’m supposed to be protecting you, and I can’t do that when I think you’re safe up in my apartment, while you’re actually galivanting around the city, got it?”

“Got it,” Izuku mutters.

Sensei nods again, more to himself than to Izuku, the teenager thinks, as he leads them both up the 1-A dorm steps. They bypass the students, who Izuku hears teasing Kacchan about his house arrest.

A hand on his shoulder leads him towards the elevators, “we really are just trying to keep you safe until you return back to your own reality. I get that it might feel overbearing to what you’re used to, but you’re just not safe here.”

Izuku softens, “I know, Sensei. Thank you.”

It doesn’t take an idiot to see there was more to Midoriya’s story than he was letting on.

There may have been some honesty in the explanation as to why he decided it was a good idea to leave the safety of the school alone, but Shota knows it can’t be the entire truth of the matter.

He’d known Midoriya for such a short amount of time, but this really doesn’t seem like something the kid would just do. Shota just can’t see him doing something spontaneous like convincing someone to give up their ID card, and slipping away before anyone even notices he’s gone without reason when there’s a good chance it could blow up in his face like it had.

Shota doesn’t know what persuaded the boy, what was that driving factor to swipe a school ID and leaving without a word of explanation to any adult looking after him? Midoriya had been gone almost the entire school day— there was no way he was just wandering around by himself for over six hours.

Shota knows Bakugou knows something.

The kid had been too tight-lipped, too blatantly withdrawn as he scowled right at him when Shota had demanded an explanation as to why he was still very much in the dorms, while his ID card had just walked out the school gates, supposedly on its own.

Bakugou was a lot of things, but withdrawn and unsure weren’t two of the defining traits.

There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that those two brats were up to something.

As soon as he’d gotten the alert that Bakugou had left school grounds, Shota had made his way back to the dorms. Anger coursed through his veins— the kid was on house arrest, and only an idiot would dare leave not just the dorms, but school grounds when Shota was already pissed at them.

And, to his genuine shock, he’d found Bakugou vacuuming the common area.

Safe, and sound, and very much not running amok outside the school gates like his student ID appeared to be. And that left just one other, currently unaccounted for, person.

Of course, seeing Bakugou in the dorms had made worry twist unpleasantly in his chest, marching past the teenager without a word, and jogging up the stairs to his very empty apartment. The guest room was wide open, no sign of the green-haired kid anywhere.

His first thought was, of course, that Midoriya had returned to his own reality.

And he’d prayed that was the case, even as he mourned the gremlin’s presence in their reality. The kid had really grown on him, and as glad as he’ll be when Midoriya goes home, Shota thinks he’ll miss him.

That, of course, isn’t the case and the realization of that hit him not even a second later when his current predicament reared its head back into his thoughts.

A scowl settled on his laps as he opened the security surveillance of the dorms common area and sees the green-haired teenager not only sneaking around, but chatting with Bakugou for a long time as they exchange items he can’t really make out from the distance.

He’d bet money that one of those items was Bakugou’s ID card, just from watching Bakugou tug his walled from his pocket with an expression wavering between beyond pissed off and hints of worry.

Shota had never wished more that the rat had sound on his cameras—what he wouldn’t give to hear what those brats are talking about right before Midoriya heads for the doors and leaves campus.

Following that, he had eyes on Midoriya up until just after he made it out of the gates, footage courtesy of Nezu, who’d rather cheerfully sent just the periods that framed Midoriya to his phone.

They were totally in cahoots, and Shota, for the first time since teaching Heroics brats, has absolutely no idea what they’re planning.

As nice as it was to see Bakugou willingly coming out of shell in the presence of other people, the face of a supposedly long-dead childhood friend specifically, Shota was still exhausted at just the thought of those two teaming up again.

Of what secret they were harboring that he doubted he’d be privy to anytime soon.

Maybe he should give Midoriya’s reality’s Aizawa a bit more leeway if he has to deal with Bakugou and Midoriya together constantly in a classroom setting. Midoriya, as Shota has realized thus far, is a spark that he’s struggling to keep under control, but when you throw in Bakugou? A fuse just waiting to be lit? Ka-boom.

That fight between the two of them after the provisional licensing exam Midoriya had told him about suddenly makes all the more sense. He still doesn’t understand why either would pick a fight like that, but he can imagine it now, after seeing the two interact.

It doesn’t make him happy, but it does make sense.

He wonders how he’s going to slip a couple more pages of letter into the kid’s wallet to be delivered to his own reality’s Aizawa Shota. He has a lot more to let the guy into, and hopefully, hopefully, Shota will be able to help Midoriya even on the other side.

All he knows is that dangerous Quirk the League is after in both realities? That Midoriy got the day of the entrance exam and has been suffering with alone for all these months? Something he should definitely know about.

And if no one else is going to tell him?

He might as well hear it from himself.

Sunday, Alternate Reality.

Shota isn’t expecting to be woken up by the sound of his phone chiming.

He groans into his pillow, forcing himself up onto his elbows as he reaches blindly for the smartphone on his nightstand. The screen is lit up with notifications that his tired eyes aren’t awake enough to look at without the light blinding him.

He rubs at blurry eyes, unlocking the device with nothing more than muscle memory, squeezing his eyes shut even as the device brightens as it settles onto his home screen. He really doesn’t want to open his eyes—the darkness of their bedroom is proof enough that it’s early, and he knows the light of his phone will wake him up.

Still, he can’t just ignore it, that specific chime of his phone was the sound that only Nezu’s messages would make, and Shota knows better than to ignore a message from Nezu.

If it was anyone else, Shota would've ignored his phone and went back to sleep. Sleep was valuable, and unless something was on fire, or someone was dead, Shota didn’t want to be disturbed on his day off.

The teachers knew that, the staff knew that, his fellow Heroes and Tsukauchi and the rest of the police force he works alongside with know that, and even the student knew that until they saw him on Sunday morning, it was ‘quiet time’ and that disturbing him when it wasn’t an emergency likely meant running laps, or being assigned household chores if they had so much energy to spare.

That said, Shota had long since learned not to ignore his boss’ texts.

Shota has known the rodent long enough to know Nezu doesn’t do anything unless there’s good, logical reasoning for it. The rat also gets a kick out of chiding him for his awful sleep schedule as if Nezu himself awake at the oddest hours of the night while still managing to be awake and chipper throughout the day, so he never wakes Shota up unless it’s serious.

Honestly, Shota doesn’t know when Nezu sleeps.

Receiving a message from him can only mean one thing, and that is that whatever Nezu is bothering him about is something important. Crucial.

He scans the time at the top corner of his phone, groaning once again as he reaches up to card his fingers through his hair, glaring down at the too bright screen.

It’s far too early to be awake on a Sunday— the one day of the week that there’s no classes and most of his students have gone home to spend time with their families.

Sundays are recharge days. Nezu knows that. This had better be damn important.

He clicks on his messages before frowning as a link pops up instead of a text.

Shota hesitates before clicking the link as well.

He’s not expecting to be patched into the live security footage of the front gate where a very familiar green-haired teenager stands waiting, hands buried in the pockets of the jacket he wears. There’s a duffle back at the teen’s feet, and he’s staring up at the camera expectantly, green eyes and dark curls completely visible— that's undoubtedly Midoriya stood out there.

Annoyance settles in his stomach as Shota throws the covers off himself and marches out of the room, heading straight for the guest bedroom. Shota throws the door open, ready to continue passed an empty room and storm to the front gates to lay into the teenager again for sneaking around again, only to mentally stall when Midoriya shoots up in the bed at the noise of the door banging off the wall, looking as startled at Shota feels.

“Se’sei,” Midoriya chokes out tiredly, rubbing furiously at his eyes as he pushes himself up uncoordinatedly. “W-what is it? What... what happened? Was there an attack...? I can help!”

Shota ignores the child for a second, lifting the still live footage back into view, scanning the identical copy of Midoriya stood outside the gates. Two. Midoriya is still here. Midoriya is in the room, right before his eyes, but he’s also— he’s outside and—

Deku.

Holy shit, Deku is outside the school.

Unless another Midoriya has suddenly appeared from another reality somewhere, that’s this reality’s Midoriya Izuku outside right now. Deku is here. Deku is just... waiting outside the gates.

Why the hell is Deku outside? Why now? The kid hasn’t so much as let them see him since the USJ—had hardly even existed past the name ‘Deku’ before the USJ, but now here he is stood outside this very school. A school of Heroes, and Heroes-in-training who can and will arrest him.

Deku isn’t stupid.

So what the actual fuck is going on here?

Shota whips his attention back up to the student, eyes narrowed, “what the hell did you actually do yesterday, Midoriya?”

The teen in question freezes, sputtering something out that Shota doesn’t bother listening to as his phone chimes in his hand with another notification from Nezu. Shota sharply looks away from the still buffering and unintelligibly stuttering teenager. It’s an actual text from his boss.

It takes a second for Shota’s brain to focus down on the words.

I take it you have Midoriya-kun with you, yes?

Shota sucks in a breath, eyes flicking up to Midoriya, who’d at some point repositioned himself so he was sat on the edge of the bed, cautious eyes watching Shota as he fiddles with the hem of his shirt. Shota hasn’t seen the kid look so cautious and shameful before.

He briefly wonders if this is a look alternate Aizawa sees often.

Yes. Shota sends back, thumbs shaking as he types. He hesitates for just a second before typing out another message. He’s here. He’s fine.

He waits just a second until his phone chimes again: I see. As I thought. I’ll inform Tsukauchi of the situation right away then. Are you able to restrain Deku, Aizawa-kun? We can’t risk our guest disappearing again. I’m unsure why he’s here at this moment, but he’s mistaken if he thinks he’s leaving again after the ruckus he caused at the USJ. My staff and students are my utmost priority, and he harmed both.

Shota bites his lip, glancing up at Midoriya.

He spots green eyes watching him intently, curiously, before the man looks away sharply. Ignoring the student once again and focusing back on his phone.

I caught Midoriya, I can catch Deku too.

Make haste then. Is the reply he gets from his boss. Hardly a second passes before those three little dots are back, and Nezu is typing once more. Do not inform Midoriya just yet. I don’t want him involved until we have a better handle of this odd situation and know Deku’s intentions, understand? He could be a target, and Deku is not to be trusted.

Agreed.

Shota bites hard at his bottom lip, only half aware of Hizashi stumbling behind him and peering into the room. His glasses are sitting crooked on his nose, and he’s glancing frantically between Shota and Midoriya, “what the hell is happening?” Hizashi demands.

“You,” Shota points at the teenager, nose wrinkled in a snarl, “I’ll get to you later. Stay in this apartment. I’m not kidding, Midoriya, if you leave this building, I will find some way to make your life absolute hell, both here and in your reality even when you go back, got it?”

The kid nods, staring wide eyes, “y-yes, Sensei...”

“Shota, what—”

“Come with me,” Shota grabs his husband’s wrist, dragging him back down the hall to their bedroom.

He doesn’t hear Midoriya move, and he silently prides the kid on using his self-preservation skill for possibly the first time in his life and not risking following Shota. He already feels a little bad for snapping at the kid first thing when he wakes up, but Midoriya had obviously done something during his little trip into town yesterday, and now there was a villain knocking at their door who’d previously not even let them glimpse at him.

Hizashi hesitates in the doorway when Shota releases his grip, continuing on into the room despite how the blonde pauses uncertainly, watching Shota like he’s seconds away from blowing up. Shota doesn’t glance back up, even as he changes into his Hero costume and searches out his capture weapon. He’s aware of Hizashi scanning him up and down but isn’t bothered enough to care.

Not when there’s more pressing matters to be worried about.

Like the villain stood at the school gates like he’s politely waiting for a formal meeting or something.

“Shota, seriously, what the hell is—”

Shota shoves his phone into Hizashi’s hand as he reaches under the bed for where he’d accidentally kicked off his boot last night, “that’s live, Hizashi. Nezu sent it to me to verify that it wasn’t Midoriya out there again.”

“Wait, that’s...” the blond sucks in a nervous breath, “tell me you’re kidding. Tell me this is a joke and that you’re not— you’re not going to... Shota, are you crazy? Do you remember what that kid did to you? Why the hell is it you going out there right now?”

“Deku didn’t hurt me at the USJ, Shigaraki did,” Shota huffs out. “He might’ve helped, but he didn’t even get close to me. He left. I don’t know what he said, but he never laid a hand on me. I can hold my own against someone like Deku. If I can handle Midoriya, I can take on Deku too. There’s a reason he hangs out in the shadows, Hizashi.”

“Midoriya isn’t a villain,” Hizashi snaps out past his confusion. “I’m coming with you—”

“You’re staying here,” Shota corrects bluntly, turning back to look at his husband briefly. Hizashi had also just rolled out of bed, and in no way can get ready as fast as Shota can tug on his jumpsuit and boots and drop the coils of his capture weapon over his head. “You’re staying here, and you’re keeping an eye on that gremlin in our guest room. I don’t know what he did yesterday, but I know this has Midoriya written all over it. Please keep him in the apartment, we don’t know what Deku wants, but it has to do with Midoriya if he’s getting this confident. I’m counting on you.”

“You’re so stubborn,” the blonde hisses, but it harbors no malice. “If you get hurt, I am totally saying ‘I told you so’, right before I end you myself for being a giant idiot who doesn’t listen to me.”

“Seems fair,” Shota drawls, shaking his head in amusement.

Hizashi doesn’t look impressed as he offers Shota’s phone back. The dark-haired man takes it, and slips it into one of his pouches.

Hizashi pouts as he plops back down onto the bed. “I don’t know how I ever started liking an idiot like you, Aizawa Shota.”

“Like?” Shota snorts as he eases towards their bedroom door, “I thought you loved me?”

“Love is for idiots who don’t ignore me.” Hizashi scoffs, “come back safe and maybe I’ll love you again.”

“Anything for you,” Shota smirks teasingly before offering a sweet smile.

He leaves before Hizashi can reply, and snickers to himself as he hears his husband grumbling to himself about Shota’s stupidity.

Shota makes his way quickly though the forest on campus, heading towards the nearest stretch of fence that he can use to climb and get an overhead view of the threat.

He doesn’t know why Deku is here.

What could’ve gone through the villain’s head.

It’s not like they can just invite a well-known Villain who’d shown up at the school in.

Deku is dangerous. He’s a risk. He’s a risk to the students, and the staff— to Midoriya. Midoriya might’ve done something stupid yesterday that could’ve gotten Deku’s attention, but if Deku thinks he can just waltz in here and get his hands on a teenager currently under Yuuei protection, he’s mistaken.

They don’t know why he’s here; it’s not something Deku would do, from what they know of the teenager. And there’s always the risk that Deku might not be alone. He works with Shigaraki and the League. This could be an ambush. There could be some grand plan in motion.

They simply can’t trust Deku.

They need to be cautious, not let the villain pull the wool over their eyes no matter how innocent Deku may seem right now. Deku has the ability to pick things apart and analyze them with an observational lens that very few people can even see. That’s dangerous.

People in this day and age are so obsessed with Quirks that people tend to forget the mind in the most powerful weapon you can have— especially when it comes to a mind that’s able to deconstruct Quirks and find weaknesses to pinpoint.

Shota makes it to the gates surprisingly fast— he's moving on adrenaline alone at this point, having only woken up moments prior before being tossed into a sensitive and possibly dangerous situation. It’s still dark, and his costume camouflages well in the blackness of the early morning, so he’s got that element of surprise in his back pocket as he sneaks along the top of the fencing.

There’s a distant, nagging feeling of fear and protectiveness churning in his stomach as he inches along the top of the fence, glaring down at Deku through the slits in his goggles when he’s close enough to do so.

The kid has some nerve coming back to this school after his last visit left Shota and Thirteen in the hospital, and multiple students in Recovery Girl’s office. And now he has Midoriya to be worried about zas well.

He’s never been more mentally relieved than he is now, knowing that most of his students had left last night to spend time with their families. And not just his student, but the entire student body. They only have maybe thirty percent of the students still locked away safe in their dorms.

Shota watches the teenager for a long second.

Deku doesn’t move, doesn’t even appear to notice Shota hanging back in the shadows casted by the moonlight, as Shota watches on. He scrutinizes the teenaged villain that the entirety of Japan is terrified of. Deku doesn’t look outwardly scary; in fact, he looks scrawny and weak, Shota could definitely take the kid in a fight when he doesn’t have an army of villains, Shigaraki and his lackies in his corner, and a Nomu that’s near indestructible.

He watches for a good couple minutes, waiting to see if anyone else shows up, or if Deku talks into a phone, or wire or something, a connection to his team. He waits to see if any backup announces itself. It’s unlikely Deku would be alone if they had something planned, but Shigaraki doesn’t seem like the type to sit back and wait.

When nothing moves, Shota finally decides to make his move.

“Deku,” Shota snaps out, certain this time around that’s who he’s looking at.

“Eraserhead,” the teenager returns slowly, glancing away from the camera and looking up at Shota with a cocked eyebrow. “I didn’t expect to see you. After the last time we met, I would’ve thought you’d want to stay far away from me. And I expected the first warm welcome I’d be getting was the police force? They’re on route, aren’t they?”

Shota feels his Quirk activate as he glares down at the teenager, “hands where I can see them, Deku. No tricks. We can do this the easy way, or the hard way.”

The teenager frowns to himself, doing as ordered slowly.

He slips his hands from his pockets, flashing empty palms up at Shota before he sets his hands behind his head, “your Quirk is useless against me. And I mean that in the least threatening way as possible, mind you. I’m still Quirkless. Why bother straining your eyes when there’s nothing to erase? Prolonged use of Erasure hurts you, doesn’t it?”

Shota grits his teeth but doesn’t deactivate his Quirk. After everything he’d heard yesterday, and who Deku works with, Shota isn’t going to be outsmarted by a teenager.

Deku sighs, shaking his head, “it was just an observation, Eraser. Look, I don’t mean you, or anyone else, any harm. I’m here in good faith— I mean, why else would I risk coming here of all places? I know how many Pros you’ve got hidden in there, and the students too, would be an absolute nightmare for me if you decided to unleash your power on the likes of me. I quite like my blood inside my body.”

“If you don’t try anything, we can keep your blood exactly where it is,” Shota drawls warningly. “You can’t honestly expect us to believe you don’t have some sort of ulterior motive showing up here. Good faith? What kind of good faith are you talking about? Everything you do is precise and plotted, and it seems rather convenient you choose to show up now with your good faith when we have something out of the ordinary within our walls. You run the shadows. You’re Shigaraki’s lapdog, why should we trust you?”

“I’m Shigaraki’s informant,” the boy corrects tersely, “I play his games, sure, but I’m not loyal to anyone, Eraser. If anyone’s a dog, it’s Shigaraki himself. Sensei’s mangy mutt; he’s been training him for years.”

Shota draws in an unsteady breath at the mention of a Sensei—could he be talking about that villain Yagi told him about? All for One? “What do you know about his Sensei?”

“What, you have questions now after you’ve just accused and insulted me?” Deku snorts out in annoyance. “You just called me a dog. Not only that, but you called me Tomura’s dog. You don’t see me calling you the Commision’s dog, now do you? Talk about rude.”

Shota isn’t sure if he should mutter an apology or just stare in astonishment at the nerve of this kid. Deku and Midoriya are very different people, despite being the same person. There’s got to be some nurture over nature thing going on here, just how the fuck did this reality screw the kid up so much?

“Right,” he ends up drawling out blandly, eyeing Deku warily, even if the kid isn’t so much as shifting in place. He can’t let his guard down, not around Deku.

Deku stares up at him, unimpressed, “and no, I don’t have some ulterior motive behind coming here. Do you think the League would be stupid enough to try another attack after the last one at this school? He’s an idiot, but Shigaraki isn’t stupid. He’s still majorly pissed that you arrested his precious Sensei. Look, I just want a chance.”

“A chance to what? Kidnap Midoriya?”

“If I wanted to do that,” the teenager sneers, “I would’ve already.”

Deku doesn’t expand on that.

Shota’s stomach tightens up at the thought, before he forces his expression to harden once again. “Why should I believe you? You know what you are, Deku.”

“I’m unarmed,” Deku offers shortly, waving upwards facing palms by his head, “and I’m here alone. I don’t even have my phone. Kurogiri doesn’t have my coordinates, and I can’t contact him. No one knows where I am; you think any of them are even awake at this hour? By the time anyone figures out I’m gone, you’ll probably already have shipped me off to some prison somewhere.”

“Why are you turning yourself in? Why here?”

“...someone gave me hope,” Deku admits softly, “and I figured I might as well try before some other new, bullshit story about me makes headlines. Can’t get out of a hole when people keep dumping more dirt on your head, now can you?”

Deku takes a step towards the gate, and Shota tenses up instantly. It’s a response he has no control over—just seeing Deku stepping closer towards him, and the school— the students— has him on edge, and he can’t help it. Maybe somewhere buried in him it’s a fear response after the USJ happened and Deku had been there, but right now, Shota isn’t scared of the kid.

Still, he fists at his capture weapon instantly, muscles tensing to restrain the teenager.

He’s so used to snagging people that it’s become a reflex.

Deku is a villain, and he never hesitates to catch villains.

He’d asked to see Deku’s hands but hadn’t expected the teen to put his hands behind his head. The demand of ‘put your hands behind your head’ is quite outdated, and often not even used anymore, since hands aren’t as dangerous as Quirks are, and Quirks can be anywhere within the body, and do anything.

Hands simply aren’t as big of a threat as Quirks are anymore.

Still, it had made it hard for Shota to find a good angle to properly restrain the kid.

He doesn’t know if Deku had done it on purpose, whether he’d been able to predict Shota’s thoughts to capture him, or if the kid had just naturally fallen into that position.

Another sigh comes from the teenager, more tired than the last, “would it make you feel any better if you tied me up with your capture weapon? I appreciate you trying to be civil, or just terrified of me, whichever it happens to be, but you obviously don’t trust me. I mean, I’d prefer if you didn’t, but if we’re not going to get anywhere like this, then do as you must. Not much I could do against someone like you anyways, but I get it.”

Deku’s hands drop from his head and settle at his side, hands still clear from his pockets and palms still open and facing towards Shota as a show that he’s still compliant.

Shota squints— this feels too easy— but he does send a strand of capture weapon down to coil around the threat. He feels only slightly better knowing he has more control over the situation with Deku contained in his grasps.

Deku doesn’t squirm or make any attempt to get away as the material coils around him and constricts tightly. Shota isn’t sure how to feel about that. This is all too familiar to Midoriya’s arrest almost a week ago. Something about this just doesn’t feel right after getting to know the kid.

“Feeling better?” The teen clicks his tongue as he faintly tests the strength of the weapon binding him, “I’m honestly surprised you even waited so long to use your capture weapon, Eraser. No good angle?”

He doesn’t use enough force for Shota to get the impression he’s trying to escape.

It had simply been a test— analysis like Deku is oh so good at.

“What’s in the bag?” Shota demands as he finally jumps down from the top of the gate, inching closer to the villain. He knows Deku isn’t going anywhere, but he still approaches with caution. “Think carefully before lying to me, Deku.”

“Books,” Deku shrugs as much as he can while bound tightly, “you’re welcome to look. I can’t stop you anyways. They’re journals. Analysis journals. Just... they won’t make much sense to you. They’re coded. There’s some dangerous stuff in there about a wide variety of people. I know the Yuuei principal is supposedly pretty intelligent, so he might be able to figure my codes out, or I could write out a cipher, but I’d need use of my arms for that.”

“Books?” Shota squints harder, attention dropping down from the teenager to the bag at his feet. He stares for a second, like the bag will move, or suddenly explode. It does no such thing. The sharp edges protruding from the bag do definitely look like hardcover books. “Analysis?”

“A peace offering,” Deku says offhandedly.

“A peace offering,” Shota repeats flatly, glancing between the bag and its owner skeptically.

He is rather curious though, so he glares hard at Deku once more before inching closer and kneeling beside the duffle bag. He keeps one hand laced in his capture weapon, pulled taut; he’ll feel a tug and be able to react accordingly if Deku tries anything.

The duffle bag unzips easily, and Deku doesn’t so much as shift as Shota peers in cautiously.

It’s just bright enough to look into the bag with the light from the gate shining down on them.

It’s exactly as Deku had said, filled entirely with journals.

There has to be at least a dozen of them packed in the duffle bag, all identical besides the different numbers printed neatly on each cover. Shota scans some of the numbers, frowning to himself as he digs a hand in and grabs a book at random, number eleven.

“There’s twenty-two of them,” Deku offers without prompting, eyes flicking over the black notebooks as if taking stock, “saves you the trouble of counting. I have them all memorized. You can ask, but just know I have a strict no answering while tied up rule.”

Shota scrunches his nose up as he opens the book one handed.

It is indeed coded in a way that makes absolutely no sense to him. If it weren’t for the quick sketch on the side of the page, he’d have no idea he was even looking at an analysis of Edgeshot.

He scans the words again, but retains nothing, not even what he assumes is supposed to be Edgeshot’s name scribbled at the top of the page. It’s all symbols, and not even anything Shota has seen before. He’s seen code before, but nothing like this.

Deku must’ve made the whole code up himself, and Shota bets he’s the only one who understands it without a cipher.

He flips through a couple more pages, some depictions he recognizes, while others he can just stare at in confusion. Shota likes to think he knows a lot of Pros, but he doesn’t recognize everyone in the book.

He isn’t even sure he’d be able to identify even half of the drawings if asked, and, not to mention, not every page has a drawing either, but it’s clear each and every page of this journal is analysis Deku has done about someone.

He doesn’t doubt that every single journal in that duffle bag is the same.

Deku watches him, still not fighting against the restraints.

Shota swallows, shutting the book as he finally looks up at the teenager. He’s at a loss. He just can’t seem to come up with any plausible explanation for this. Deku works in the shadows— the first they’d even seen of the kid was the USJ. Why was he here bearing the gift of twenty-two analysis journals?

Nothing about this makes any sense.

“What are you doing here, Deku?”

“I’m... trusting,” the boy answers quietly, like he’s in disbelief of his own actions right now, “trusting myself, I guess.”

Deku looks down at his own restrained body, chewing at his bottom lip before looking back down at the underground Hero, unamused, “and it’s working out great so far, incase you were wondering.”

Shota sets the journal back in the duffle bag, standing up from his crouched position.

He glances between the books and the villain once again, when it finally clicks into place.

He’d seen these notebooks before.

At the beach, when someone, this boy, had run into Midoriya. These exact books had scattered on the ground. That had been Deku. He’d been right there— had shaken Midoriya’s hand. Deku had been there. They’d met, and Shota had let it happen.

Shota had known there was something off about the figure, but he’d never even considered it could be something like this. Civilians were strange, he knew as much from watching those media vultures the day before the USJ, and even after Bakugou’s kidnapping.

Civilians were nosy and would jump at any chance to bombard a Yuuei student.

Which is why he’d never even considered Deku could’ve found them when they were vulnerable. Deku hadn’t been too outwardly strange at the beach, and Midoriya had said his new Quirk didn’t sense any malicious intent.

“It was you on the beach,” Shota can’t help the snarl.

“Can’t fool you,” Deku shrugs unapologetically, not even bothering to deny it.

“What did you do to him?” Shota demands.

Isn’t it a little convenient that right after Midoriya runs into Deku he goes rouge? Disappears from the safety of the school and leaves without a word? Deku had to have influenced that. Midoriya had been with them almost a week at this point, and he’d never shown signs of insubordination like that. Shota knows the teen has respect for him, so he can’t see why Midoriya would go directly against his orders as he had.

He knows the kid isn’t a saint, especially when it comes to Hero work and protecting people. From what he’s heard, Midoriya is all too willing to charge headfirst into a fight, but Shota had never gotten the impression that he would step so far out of line for something like this.

“He made his own decision,” Deku snaps in reply, that carefully constructed patience finally lapsing, even if it’s just for a second. The neutral expression is back just as fast as it breaks. “You were there as well, Eraserhead, I didn’t do anything condemning. I could’ve, but I didn’t. Don’t you think Shigaraki would’ve jumped at the chance of ambushing an unassuming Eraserhead who was distracted by an alternate reality’s me? Two birds with one stone that he would’ve taken full advantage of if he’d known.”

Shota grits his teeth, glaring sharply at the teen.

Deku draws in a calm breath through his nose before looking up at Shota, blinking owlishly, “I gave him a note. No trick, no trap. A couple words on a scrap of paper form one of those notebooks. Just a destination that he may or may not have known how to find. It could’ve been hit or miss, honestly. Midoriya is the one who decided to come find me.”

“You tricked him,” Shota accuses, just because he doesn’t understand this.

“He probably still has the note,” Deku shrugs one shoulder, “if you don’t trust me, ask him. And, speaking of, I’d like to talk to him if you could arrange that. I’m here on a whim because of what he said to me, but I trust you about as much as you trust me. I’ve been fucked over by Heroes before, but... he’s different. If you want anything more info out of me before you ship me off to Tartarus, or wherever you send us super villains, I want Midoriya with me.”

“What makes you think we’ll even consider that?” Shota drawls darkly. “Midoriya is under Yuuei protection, we’d be stupid to let him anywhere near someone like you, Deku.”

“If you want the information that I haven’t written down in one of those notebooks, you’ll want to humor me. I don’t trust you to help me, but I trust Midoriya to try.”

Shota stays outside the gates with Deku until a single police cruiser with just Tsukauchi in it (Shota isn’t surprised, honestly) pulls up behind them. The lights and sirens are off on the car, but the headlights make Shota’s eyes ache.

Considering everything Shota learned about Midoriya, All Might and Togata yesterday, something that Tsukauchi was apparently a part of, it’s not surprising the man would show up alone in hopes of keeping this on the downlow.

Since One for All is so highly confidential, the circle of knowledge is small, and Shota supposes he should consider himself lucky to even be a part of it.

Not to mention Deku is an A-tier villain, and the last time they’d arrested him, it had turned out to be a reality hopping doppelganger that was most certainly not the villain they know as Deku. Shota is fairly certain he’s holding Deku this time around, but they’d still be screwed if this made the news.

They’d been lucky that Shota and Tsukauchi had been able to keep Midoriya’s arrest under wraps. He loathes to think about the mess that would’ve resulted in had it been broadcasted by those news vultures.

Deku turns his head to watch the detective getting out of the car, and even offers Tsukauchi a smile and a cheerful greeting that the detective obviously has no idea what to do with.

Deku doesn’t appear to know, or recognize, Tsukauchi, and for some reason Shota is relieved at the fact.

That had been something that had everyone stalling when they’d interrogated Midoriya that first night— Deku never would’ve seen or met Tsukauchi, and the man has never been in the news for anything Hero related, so there’s no reason for Deku to even look into him.

Shota sees the man’s eyes flick towards him uncertainly at the friendly, but wary greeting from the teenaged villain, but Shota can only offer a similar, uncertain shrug in return.

Deku and Midoriya are so, so similar, but they’re also glaringly different.

Shota can’t imagine Midoriya ever acting so cocky, especially being cuffed, detained and arrested— in fact, just last week, Midoriya had been an absolute nervous wreck when sitting in Deku’s current position.

The capture weapon is efficiently swapped for a pair of Quirk cancelling cuffs that Tsukauchi tightens into place and doesn’t let go of. He hadn’t been holding the kid tight in the capture weapon— no tighter than usual— but Deku still blows out a breath of relief and stretches out his back and shoulders while making it obvious he’s in no way attempting to break away.

Even when the capture weapon releases him, with Tsukauchi standing mistrustfully behind the kid, one fist clutching tightly at the Quirk proof chains that hold the teenager’s hands together.

Shota doesn’t know how Deku is keeping a straight face, what sort of façade he’s putting up that he’s unaffected by a Hero watching him, and a police detective looming behind him like he’s expecting the kid to turn tail and bolt away.

This has got to be an uncomfortable situation, even for a villain like Deku, but still, the boy doesn’t struggle. Shota just can’t seem to wrap his head around this.

What is Deku’s angle?

What is he up to, and why is he here?

Deku doesn’t even glance between them as Tsukauchi and Shota exchange an uncertain look at the villain being so compliant. This also isn’t the Deku they’d been wary of since the villain’s debut over a year ago. This isn’t the Deku that villains arrested reported working with.

Only when Deku is secured in the Quirk cancelling cuffs do the main gates open, the camera whirring as it moves, watching them closely, and waiting patiently for them to enter. Shota picks up the duffle bag before leading the villain and detective in.

The teen glances up as the camera whirrs, brow furrowing in confusion for just a second before Deku is offering a toothy smile. There’s no doubt in Shota’s mind that the kid wouldn’t be waving at the camera if he had use of his hands right now.

“I knew someone was watching,” the teen crows, glancing back at Shota, “it’s the principal, isn’t it? The smartest creature in all of Japan? I figured it was unlikely you’d have just shown up without order, eh, Eraser?”

“I was the most logical Hero to detain you,” Shota huffs out.

“Maybe with the capture weapon,” Deku agrees as Shota leads the three of them into the school. Tsukauchi still hasn’t let up his grip on the teenager, and if Deku minds, Shota can’t tell. “Your Quirk is virtually useless against me, remember? At this rate, any other Hero would’ve easily been able to take out a Quirkless kid like me with their Quirks, and I know this school has plentiful on hand. It's a bit cruel for him to send you when I helped Shigaraki during that attack on the school, don’t you think? Oh, and sorry about that, by the way, not my choice.”

“Not your choice?” Tsukauchi asks drily.

Deku turns his head slowly to look back at the man, buffering like maybe he’d forgotten the Detective was even here with them. For a second, Shota thinks the teenager is about to answer, but instead the teen just uninterestedly shrugs one shoulder.

“I told you my terms to answers, and I don’t see Midoriya, now do I?”

“Midoriya?” Tsukauchi’s tone comes out deathly calm. “Why would we be letting you anywhere near a student at this school who is top priority to be kept safe and away from you.”

“Top priority, huh?” Deku is quiet for a long second, keeping pace with the two men even as his thoughts wander. “Ah, you must mean for that fancy Quirk of his, right? What, gotta keep it safe? Like I said to Eraser here, if I had any intentions of hurting him, I would’ve already.”

“You’re digging yourself into a hole,” Shota tells the kid drily, even if Deku had already told him this. “I never agreed to your terms, just so we’re on the same page. It’s not a decision to be taken lightly, and certainly not one I can make on my own.”

“But you’re curious,” the teenager grins cheekily, “I’m not saying anything more until you let him help me. He promised.”

“He promised?” Tsukauchi gapes, attention bouncing between the teenager he’s holding and the Pro Hero who’s leading the way. “When did you meet Midoriya?”

“Sorry, detective, but I’m not a broken record. And I’m no longer answering any questions. Not until—”

“Your terms are met, and you’re reintroduced to Midoriya,” Shota answers instantly, rolling his eyes, “for a kid claiming he’s not a broken record, you’re sure repeating yourself a lot.”

“I’m reminding,” Deku huffs back, lips quirking upwards despite the situation he’s in. “I just want to be heard, Eraser-san. I’m done being ignored.”

“You were heard the first time,” Shota replies tightly, “you’re just also a villain, so we’ll be taking everything you say with a grain of salt. And don’t add an honorific to my Hero name.”

“Awh,” Deku pouts, “how about Sensei then?”

“Is it your goal to annoy everyone, or just me?”

“Just people I like,” Deku chimes brightly, “you’re really cool, Eraserhead. Midoriya talked highly of you, and I knew of you before all this shit happened. You were one of my favorites.”

“And yet you tried to kill me.”

Deku quiets down after that; smile wavering before his gaze drops to the floor.

He doesn’t speak again, silently letting himself be led along like an obedient pet.

Shota doesn’t know why he feels so guilty.

Chapter Text

“So, let me get this straight,” Tsukauchi’s foot taps indignantly as his sharp gaze sweeps between Shota and Nezu, “the two of you want to bring Midoriya to meet Deku? Have you lost your minds? Aren’t we supposed to be preventing them from meeting for Midoriya’s safety? You both remember who that kid in there is, right? The A-tier villain who’s been terrorizing Heroes for over a year? Ring a bell?”

Shota remains quiet, glancing down at his boss, who is staring intently in the room that contains Deku. The rodent hums; not an answer, simply an acknowledgment towards the detective.

Shota stares at Tsukauchi for a moment, before turning his own attention to the room containing Deku. For the most part, the kid has just been sitting quietly, head thrown back as he stares up at the ceiling.

The room is small, with just a window and a door. There’s a lock on the door, which is currently locked to keep Deku restrained, an added level of security in addition to the cuffs Tsukauchi had insisted upon, and it’s the only way in or out.

Unless he gets in contact with the League, there’s no way for the kid to get out without them letting him out. Not to mention there’s no way for him to get in contact with them— they’d searched the kid upon arrival into the school, and he’d been honest about not having any technology on his person or in the bag.

It’s both sound and Quirk proof within the walls of the room— the Quirk containing force field surrounding the room similar to the cuffs the child is also bound with, meaning they can turn it on and off with specific requirements, such as a key and the control panel on the outside of the room.

This room is usually where they’ll escort students in the middle of Quirk accidents to contain and neutralize the possibility of them hurting themselves or someone else until they can calm down or get their Quirks under control.

Shota can’t always be around, and before he even worked at the school, there needed to be a place for students to safely have their powers neutralized when they got out of control. It’s illogical to think that students, Heroics students or not, are always in full control of their Quirks.

Accidents happen and it’s good to have a plan B to keep everyone safe if one does happen.

The room doesn’t see much use, thankfully, but it is nice to know it’s there.

“I think we’re a little late on that one, Detective,” Nezu finally hums, turning his attention away from the door to look at Tsukauchi with bright, interested eyes. “I’m afraid we need to accept the fact that they’ve already met. Midoriya left school grounds and there was simply nothing I could do to prevent that. He was already outside the gate when I got the alert that the gates had been opened. He was out of grasp as soon as he left sight of my cameras.”

“And you didn’t think to prevent that somehow?” Tsukauchi’s gaze is locked with Nezu’s own unwavering eyes. “Students leaving school grounds? The gate denying it?”

“This is a school,” the rodent narrows his eyes, “not a prison. Emergencies and accidents happen, and my students deserve to be able to leave, if need be, for whatever reason. Bakugou-kun is a student at my school and his ID allows him access in and out. I was notified, but I was ill prepared to stop him from leaving. Our security isn’t to keep people in, it’s to keep people out, Detective. I trust my students to respect our rules. I trust Midoriya to do act as sees fit as a student at this school.”

“Hang on,” Shota slivers his eyes as he stares down at his boss, “it sounds to me like you knew he was going to do something stupid.”

“I suspected he may try something,” Nezu shrugs, nose twitching faintly. “I didn’t anticipate him taking Bakugou-kun's student ID and leaving in the middle of the day without warning, but I did suspect he might try to make contact with Deku. I think it’s fair to assume any one of us would try to understand what went wrong if put in Midoriya-kun's shoes. I don’t condone how he went about it, but I understand the concept.”

“It was reckless,” Shota snaps, unsure if he’s snapping at his boss, or just in general at this situation. Either way, Nezu doesn’t appear to take it to heart.

“Indeed,” Nezu bows his head in an agreeing nod, “but that’s not much different than any of the students at this school when it comes to the greater good, now is it? Any of our students would try to help if they could, putting themselves at risk whilst doing so. I have no doubt that that young man is a student at my school.”

“You’re telling me,” Shota sighs through his nose, scrubbing at his eyes with the heel of his palms. “Alternate Aizawa surely had his hands full with that kid.”

“This is insane,” Tsukauchi hisses under his breath, “how are you two so calm? I— I can’t allow this to happen. Seriously. Since when do we allow villains to call the shots? He doesn’t need to see Midoriya, and I’m not one for conforming to a villain’s demands. He could be dangerous. He works with Shigaraki, this could be a trap, or a ploy. We don’t know. We can’t trust him. Surely you aren’t considering humoring him—”

“The boy has been searched,” Nezu reminds sharply. “His journals were taken to another room, he was without a phone when he arrived here, like he said he was, and that room he’s in is Quirk proof at the moment. Even if the League was planning something, not even Kurogiri’s portal-void Quirk would be able to access that room. He is no risk to us, or Midoriya. Not as of current.”

Tsukauchi’s mouth puckers like he’d bitten a slice of lemon, “we’re not even going to interrogate him before bringing the kid in? We haven’t even tried talking to him.”

“It would be pointless to try,” Shota points out tiredly, “you heard Deku. He’s insistent that he see Midoriya. He refused to answer anything unless Midoriya is there for whatever reason. It would be a waste of time, and we need him to talk. He’s valuable. He has intel— possibly even intel on the League— he offered those journals as a courtesy, and he said there’s more he’s willing to tell us if we meet his demands. He’s asking to see Midoriya; that barely qualifies as a demand, Tsukauchi.”

“He’s a villain!” Tsukauchi huffs in exasperation, “he wants Midoriya. We need to protect Midoriya and One for All. We’re screwed if the League gets a hold of that kid and his Quirk.”

“He’s a villain who turned himself in,” Shota snaps back instantly. “Are you not curious as to why? Why he suddenly turned himself in? Why he suddenly showed up here? Midoriya did something. No doubt about that. But remember, Deku showed up here voluntarily. Don’t you think Deku would’ve tried something when he had Midoriya alone? Or even when he ran into the kid and I at the beach? If Deku wanted Midoriya or that Quirk, he could’ve had both easily, without the hassle of being arrested. Think rationally, Tsukauchi. Deku is smart.”

“Why else would he want Midoriya now?” Tsukauchi narrows his eyes.

“We could ask him,” Nezu suggests, offering a toothy grin. “With Midoriya-kun's company, of course, otherwise I fear Deku won’t be very compliant.”

“And if the kid doesn’t want to talk to his villain doppelganger?”

“We won’t force him,” Nezu shrugs calmly. “It’s entirely Midoriya-kun's decision, of course. Can’t we turn your argument back onto you? What if he does want to talk to his villain doppelganger? Neither of us can say with certainty. That decision lies with Midoriya-kun alone.”

Tsukauchi still hesitates.

“Look, Midoriya wouldn’t have risked everything to meet Deku yesterday if he didn’t want to,” Shota adds sharply, turning his head just slightly to peer through the window at Deku. The kid hasn’t moved an inch. “We can’t make a decision regarding this without him. We don’t have enough information to understand this, and we won’t unless we bite out tongues and let them interact.”

“Midoriya is just a kid,” Tsukauchi frowns deeply, unimpressed.

“He sure is,” Shota huffs back. “But guess what? So is Deku by that logic. Your argument is null when they’re the same person. We know he’s just a kid, but I trust Midoriya with my life— my husband’s life, and my student’s lives— I’m not saying the kid isn’t an idiot for going behind our backs to talk to Deku, all I’m saying he made a judgment call, one that I encourage my students to make, and as far as I can see, somehow, he managed to convince Deku to turn himself in.”

Shota draws in a breath, shaking his head slightly, “we have Deku in custody. I firmly believe that is entirely Midoriya’s doing, even if I can’t fathom what the kid could’ve done to make it happen. I don’t know about you, but I want to understand this.”

“As do I,” Nezu chimes in calmly. “It is quite peculiar, don’t you agree, Detective?”

“I still don’t think this is wise,” Tsukauchi’s frown deepens, though he does look torn at the argument.

“Our school is perfectly safe, Detective,” Nezu hums thoughtfully, “if that’s what you’re worried about. After our first encounter with the League, we’ve doubled down on our security. Deku is in a room where he cannot provide coordinates, nor will any of the League’s Quirks be of any use. There is simply no way Shigaraki or that void-Quirk user can enter of premises without me being aware of it. Fool me once, shame on you. There will not be a twice.”

“I believe you,” the detective sighs, pulling his hat off to card his fingers through his hair, “I trust the school’s security, it’s Deku that I can’t trust. We know what he’s done. We know what he’s capable of. You all have seen what he can do. The damage he can do without lifting a finger. He almost got you killed, Aizawa— he forced Yagi into retirement. He’s bad news.”

“Don’t you think he deserves some benefit of the doubt?” Shota asks the detective, staring Tsukauchi dead in the eyes. “He’s here, of his own will. He came to us, handed himself over, with one simply request. We may not understand this, but we have a chance to do this all over again. We fucked up with Midoriya, plain and simple. We acted rashly, and it wasn’t unjustified, given the situation, but it was rash and at the end of the day, he’s still a kid.”

Shota draws in a breath, raking his fingers back through his hair, “we have a chance to do better with Deku, the real Deku. He could help us if we don’t fuck this up like we did with Midoriya.”

“He works with the League.”

“He turned himself in,” Shota tries to keep his voice calm despite the annoyance ramming its head in his stomach, “we don’t understand him—”

“And that’s exactly why we should be suspicious!”

“Gentlemen,” Nezu chides sharply, an authoritative tone that has both men faltering. “There is simply no use arguing over this. We don’t know Deku, that’s correct, but we do know that we have two Pro Heroes and a highly capable police detective here. I doubt even Deku would stand a chance against that—Midoriya didn’t, and he’s arguably more powerful than Deku. Physically, at least.”

Shota’s jaw snaps shut, but he doesn’t tear his gaze away from Tsukauchi, the detective’s gaze narrowing just as Shota’s, even as neither say a word.

Unimpressed, Nezu continues, “and, let’s not forget that Midoriya plays a part in this as well. We have an Erasure Quirk, a Lie Detection Quirk and, assuming we do grant access for Midoriya to participate in this interrogation like Deku has requested, we will have the boy’s new danger sensing Quirk, and the power of One for All. There is power in numbers, and even someone like Deku is susceptible to that.”

Shota and Tsukauchi glare daggers at each other for another long second before they each turn to the rodent. Nezu glances between them, whiskers twitching in annoyance.

“At the end of the day, we’re not going to get anywhere with Deku without Midoriya,” Shota breaks the uncomfortable silence they’d settled into. “I think he could be valuable— we're verging on a war with the League of Villains. Every step we take, they’re always one ahead of us. There is no harm in granting Deku’s request if there’s even so much as a chance that we might finally get the upper hand.”

“I concur,” Nezu bows his head in a nod, hands interlaced behind the small of his back as he peers into the room Deku is sitting in. “I don’t see a problem with allowing a supervised visit between the two of them. We must be vigilant, of course, but I don’t see any reason to withhold Midoriya, so long as he agrees to meet with Deku.”

“I don’t agree with giving into Deku’s demands,” Tsukauchi huffs, shaking his head. “He’s still a villain.”

“Please take a second to consider the valuable information Deku might have on the League,” Nezu suggests chipperly, “information he’s willing to offer us if we offer something in return. The boy might be a villain, but that doesn’t mean he can’t be an asset to us, Detective.”

“You know I have to arrest him,” Tsukauchi shakes his head once again, biting at the inside of his cheek as he peers once again through the window to see Deku. “I should’ve arrested him on the spot. He’s a criminal. He’s on a nation-wide wanted list. This goes against protocol— he shouldn’t have even made it into the school.”

“And if your intention was to do as such, we wouldn’t be here deliberating our next course of action in my school office when you could’ve escorted him directly into the back of your police cruiser and left, now would we, Detective?” Nezu flashes a bright, toothy smile as if silently daring Tsukauchi to argue.

Tsukauchi sighs, pushing his fedora up so it’s more so supported on the crown of his head before scratching at his hairline, “you know I don’t like this. Any of this. We shouldn’t trust him. Not after everything he’s done.”

“You may not like it, Detective, but we shouldn’t burn any bridges with Deku just yet,” Nezu hums back quietly, scanning the teenager once again out of the corner of his eye, “we don’t know why he’s here, and I don’t think any of us can honestly say they aren’t curious as to what he was referring to that’s not in one of his journals. Deku does have a gift despite how he chooses to use it, and if there’s even a chance he’ll offer up any information, we should indulge him. It’s in our best interest.”

Tsukauchi’s gaze narrows into a glare as he studies Nezu before sighing deeply through his nose in defeat, “if we’re doing this...” he hesitates, before seeming to throw caution to then wind as he lets out another deep sigh, “...then grab Midoriya now. We don’t have all day. I will have to arrest him at some point. For real.”

“Wonderful!” Nezu claps his hands together, “Aizawa-kun, could you be so kind as to go and fetch Midoriya-kun? The detective and I will keep a close eye on our guest.”

Shota shifts enough to be able to glance in the room, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth as he peers at Deku.

The boy is still cuffed with his hands bound behind his back; the cuffs looped through the metal of the back of the chair so he can’t go anywhere without having to lug the chair around with him. The boy hasn’t moved since they’d left him in the room though, so Shota doubts they need to be worried about that.

The teen sits silently, head thrown back as he stares up at the ceiling. He doesn’t even glance over, just keeps his gaze trained upwards. Something about seeing Deku, an A-tier villain, sat so docile with literally no chance of escape feels weird.

The kid doesn’t look worried—and if he is, he’s got one hell of a poker face.

He’s made no attempt to escape, hasn’t said a word since he’d quieted down on the walk into the school, and had hardly even looked at them, head bowed and eyes downcast, even as they’d escorted him into the room and readjusted his cuffs for a bit more security.

He’s so subdued Shota doesn’t know how to feel about this all.

Deku isn’t anything like he’d imagined him to be. Not really.

Shota can’t help but feel guilty— it really is like looking in there and seeing Midoriya all over again.

Images of the kid sobbing uncontrollably during what could possibly have been one of the worst moments of his life. The heart wrenching scene that Shota thinks he won’t ever forget. Shota will always feel awful for how they’d handled that and after an encounter like that, he knows they need to do things differently, even if he’s sure it is Deku they have now.

“Yeah,” Shota finally breathes out in reply to his boss. “I’ll go grab him.”

Shota knows he drags his feet a little when it comes to fetching Midoriya.

There is a small part of him that doesn’t actually want to risk putting the two in a room together, despite his earlier arguments contradicting that part of his mind entirely. The bigger part of him wants to give Deku and Midoriya a chance, but he can’t help the uncertainty settling in his stomach.

He’s glad they’d managed to get Tsukauchi to see reason, but he’s still anxious.

They’d messed up with Midoriya already. It was a simple fact.

Everything they’d done since the kid was dropped into their laps, had fucked with the kid.

That interrogation that had been an honest mistake, but had turned out to be cruel and traumatic. It’s excusable, Midoriya was Deku, just a different Deku, but they’d still reacted accordingly given the situation, even if it had traumatized the boy.

Then there was the All Might fuck up.

There is simply no excuse for that one.

They should’ve told the retired Pro when they first figured out that Midoriya was not their Deku, plain and simple. Yagi should’ve been informed of Midoriya’s presence within the school, and Shota will never forgive himself, Nezu or Tsukauchi for not telling Yagi up front.

It was illogical, and stupid, and it could’ve been avoided if they’d just gotten their heads of their asses and told the man exactly what was happening instead of letting Yagi figure it out alone. Completely wrong.

The point is, they’d messed up enough when it comes to Midoriya.

Shota doesn’t want to mess up again by letting Deku and Midoriya interact.

There’s that nagging thought in the back of his mind that this might blow up in their faces again.

But he knows where Midoriya stands with this— doesn't even need to ask to know where the Hero-in-training stands in all of this. He knows the kid had risked a lot going to meet with Deku, and he’d obviously done something right if Deku came here. Shota doesn’t doubt for a second that the kid won’t be completely on board with meeting with Deku again.

Shota sighs to himself as he treks up the 1-A stairs. It’s still early enough that he knows most of the students are still asleep, but he knows some are probably awake. He’d rather avoid any questions, so he opts for the stairs rather than the elevator.

The apartment door is unlocked when he turns the handle.

It only takes a couple steps into the apartment to find Midoriya.

Hizashi and Midoriya are both sitting at the table in the kitchen, each nursing a mug of what looks to be tea. He can’t smell the strong scent of coffee, even if he silently wishes he could, but he does faintly smell peach, so Shota assumes it’s some of that peach matcha tea he’d gotten from Yaoyorozu that first night Midoriya was here.

The kid’s eyes snap towards him when he settles in the doorframe of the kitchen, and just a second later, Hizashi glances over as well, lips pulled downward in a frown. The man studies Shota subtly, like he’s trying to decide if Shota is hurt or not after meeting Deku once again.

Shota doesn’t know what he husband finds, since the man doesn’t let his scrutinizing eyes stray from Shota’s frame.

In turn, Midoriya looks more like a spooked animal than anything else, as he stares wide-eyed at Shota, awkwardly shifting in place as his hands tighten around the mug. Deep in Shota’s heart, he feels bad about how he’d reacted that morning, knowing Midoriya has probably been stewing on everything in utter confusion since Shota hadn’t been calm enough to offer any explanation to the kid who he’d known instantly played a dangerous part in what was transpiring with Deku.

The kid audibly swallows, wide eyes flicking towards Hizashi, then back to Shota, before dropping quickly to his mug. He thumbs gently at the side of the mug near the handle, head bowing even further down as if to hide himself from Shota, “H-hello, Sensei...”

He definitely looks guilty.

Or nervous.

Shota can’t tell, but both are reasonable.

“Midoriya,” Shota greets gruffly, glaring at the kid.

Seeing the teenager now, he’s a bit ticked off about yesterday all over again— now he has a basic understanding of what the kid had really been up to, and he certainly does not approve of sneaking out to meet a villain without backup or ever anyone just knowing where you are.

Shota absolutely hates it, but it’s also so very Midoriya, he thinks.

“Mind telling me what you were actually up to yesterday?”

The kid stiffens, shoulders shrugging up to his ears as he stares intently at the contents in his mug. The boy looks over quickly, scanning Shota before his eyes are right back on his mug of tea, throat bobbing in another nervous swallow.

“I... um, I think you already know, Sensei...” Midoriya mumbles with a wince, “am I... in trouble?”

Shota narrows his eyes, leaning against the doorframe, “take a guess.”

“...no?”

Shota huffs unimpressed, “try again.”

The teen slumps in his chair, shaking his head mutely.

After a second, the kid draws in a shaky breath, glancing up at Shota once again. He gives the kid props for him managing eye contact when he finally speaks, “how did you...?”

“Early this morning,” Shota starts, stepping slowly into the room to stand beside the table, attention entirely on the teenager, studying his expressions and body language sharply, “we got an alert about activity outside the gate. Upon further investigation we realized it was you sneaking around outside.”

The kid stares for a long second, blinking in confusion before his mouth drops open into an ‘o’ shape, and his eyes widen as he pieces what Shota’s getting at together. “W-wait...”

“Obviously,” Shota continues without waiting, “it couldn’t have been you, when you were asleep in the guest room when I opened the door. Which means someone with an uncanny resemblance to you was waiting outside—”

“H-hang on—” the kid jerks to his feet, hands planted on the tabletop as his wide eyes double in size, “Deku came here? To the school? Seriously? Like just showed up here? He’s here now? And you... he’s been... he— w-what— ugh, that idiot! Why couldn’t he—”

Midoriya cuts himself off abruptly, mouth pressing in a straight line. Shota cocks an unimpressed eyebrow, studying the teenager as Midoriya curls into himself nervously.

“So, you left out the very crucial detail that you met one of our reality’s most dangerous villains when you were out exploring on your own?” Shota drawls drily, narrowed gaze watching the teenager. “What, didn’t think that one was important to share? I know that’s exactly what you did, sneaking away to meet up with him intentionally.”

“I didn’t...”

“Deku told me about the note he gave you, the one he handed you when he ran into you at the beach. Did you know then that it was Deku contacting you? Did you know and not even so much as mention to me that he was trying to get into contact with you?”

“No,” Midoriya forces out breathlessly, “no, I-I didn’t, not until... no, not until I read the note... I... I didn’t know, Sensei. Not instantly...”

“But you figured it out,” Shota summarizes, annoyance settling in his chest. Still, he tries to keep his tone calm, calmer than he feels. “You figured it out, and you didn’t tell me. You put yourself in danger meeting up with him, and you didn’t even bother telling me. You snuck out to meet with a villain— a known villain who could’ve had an ambush waiting for you, who is known to work with the League of Villains— and you left the safety of the school to meet him without a word.”

“I’m sorry,” the teenager whispers, looking thoroughly shamed. Shota doubts this’ll be the last time Midoriya does something stupid and reckless, but it’s nice he looks ashamed for his actions right now.

“Right.” Shota drawls in a clipped tone, “I’ll ask again, kid, what did you really do yesterday?”

Instead of an answer, Midoriya slips his hand into the pocket of the sweatshirt he’s wearing. When he pulls his hand out, stares at the piece of paper before unfolding it and setting it down on the table.

Shota stares at it for just a second, before the realization hits him that this must be the note Deku was talking about.

A part of him is irked that Deku seems to know Midoriya all so well, being able assess Midoriya’s character and to assure Shota that Midoriya still had possession of the note he’d handed him that day on the beach. He’d been so confident at the fact and it’s a little upsetting to know he was right.

Shota marches into the room, glaring down at the sheet of paper. He reads the words quickly before turning his attention back onto the teenager fiddling with his own fingers.

“What does that mean?” Shota asks sharply.

“I asked All Might that when I first met him,” Midoriya whispers. “And... and Deku did too. That note was a test, I think. Deku wanted to know where we differed, just like I did, but it wasn’t there. We both asked All Might that same question, at the same place and the same time. Honestly, I think I’m the only person who would ever be able to decipher the message because I experienced it too.”

“And he said no,” Shota realizes, only knowing after yesterday’s conversation with the man himself.

All Might had admitted to saying no when Midoriya asked if Yagi remembered him. That whole first attack with the sludge-villain that no one had even known about because Yagi never reported it— where Yagi told a Quirkless child he couldn’t be a Hero on a rooftop and left him.

“He said no,” Midoriya agrees softly, fingers clasping together and squeezing tightly. “To both of us. It happened to both of us. An-um-anyways, I know that’s where Deku wanted to meet, that’s what the note meant. It was a secured location and I... I knew it was wrong, Sensei. I knew it was stupid, but I was just... I wanted to understand. That note meant All Might said the exact same thing to him as he did to me, and I’m a Hero, but he’s... he’s not. So... so why? Why were we different when everything was the same?”

The teen ducks his head so he’s staring directly down at the tabletop.

Strands of green curls curtain over his eyes, and Shota can no longer see the brighter green hidden behind. “I... know I should’ve told you, Sensei. I do. Really. I should've told you right when I realize it was Deku or even... even when he handed me that note.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

The boy swallows, tears welling in the corners of his eyes.

He palms at his wet eyes, drawing a stuttered breath before looking up once again.

“I couldn’t,” the boy stresses the word desperately, looking just as stressed as how he says it, frantic snapping up to stare at Shota, “you wouldn’t have let me go, or, or you would’ve wanted to tell everyone and set up an ambush, or arrest him on the spot and I— I would’ve arrested him too! I would’ve, honest, he’s still a criminal and he’s wanted and he’s a danger to people, but I wanted to know. I wanted to understand him before anything else and I figured if we didn’t do things in his time, it wouldn’t happen at all so I... I didn’t tell you.”

“That explains why you didn’t before you snuck away to meet up with a villain,” Shota huffs, trying not to snap, “but why didn’t you tell me after your meeting with Deku?”

“I didn’t think you’d understand,” the teen admits, swallowing nervously. “Everyone... their opinions of Deku are set. I can’t change that. And it makes sense, don’t get me wrong. He’s a villain, and that’s... that’s a known fact. I... I know he’s done bad things, there’s no excuse for that but... but I actually talked to him. He told me stuff. It’s different seeing things from someone else’s point of view. I wanted to tell you, just... I figured... without him here to tell you himself, nothing I said would change anything. I can’t help him if he doesn’t want help.”

“You don’t... think he’s bad, Lil’ Listener?” Hizashi speaks for the first time.

There’s an odd crease in his husband’s forehead, and Shota wonders what the blonde is thinking.

“It’s not that,” Midoriya assures hurriedly, like he’s reading the uncertainty in Hizashi’s expression as well. “I know he’s done bad stuff. He works with the League, and he... he might not have meant to, but he shared confidential information— he helped hurt you, Sensei, and Thirteen too... He’s done bad things, but I don’t think he’s bad.”

“What do you mean he might not have meant to?” Shota inquires with an arched eyebrow.

“O-oh, um,” Midoriya shakes his head sheepishly, “I think... maybe you should hear it from Deku first. It’s not my place to speak for him. I can defend him all I want, but that doesn’t... it doesn’t mean anything unless he’s willing to defend himself too. He’s not what everyone thinks he is. People, and... and villains have built him up to this godly villain, but he’s... he’s not. He did what he had to do to survive.”

Shota stares at the teen for a long moment, just trying to understand where he’s coming from.

It’s Hizashi who speaks first, “what do you mean by built him up?”

Midoriya hesitates, one shoulder lifting in a shrug, “if you had a faceless scapegoat who was virtually untouchable, that could take the blame for your crimes instead of you, would you not throw that unpunishable name around instead of your own? It’s easy to blame someone else when they don’t defend themselves.”

Shota sucks in a deep breath, and even Hizashi is watching the teen with a furrowed brow.

It makes sense. It makes a lot of sense, actually.

“And do you think Deku will admit to all this?” Shota asks slowly.

“I don’t think he’d be here if he didn’t want to try,” Midoriya breaths out as he clutches at his mug. “I... I offered to try and help him before he left, and he... couldn’t trust me. If you knew what I know now, you probably wouldn’t trust anyone offering you hope either. He was scared, Sensei, he was so scared, and I... I couldn’t help him. I failed him. I couldn’t help him!”

There’s a devastated hiccup in how the teen mutters the word that has Shota’s heart breaking. He’s crying, bright green eyes glossy with tears. He stutters out a half breath as he bows his head down, palming at his eyes to clear away the wetness.

“I... I don’t know how to help him,” Midoriya admits with a watery voice. “He... he trusted me. He came here, even when he said he wouldn’t trust me, Sensei. He came here, and I— I can’t help him. I don’t know how. I can’t do anything here. This isn’t my world, b-but I can’t just let him suffer. Not when I know—”

“Hey, hey, shh,” Hizashi coos, reaching across the table to set a comforting hand on Midoriya’s forearm, “take a deep breath, Kiddo.”

The kid struggles to do so, looking up at them with wide, wet eyes. The panic in his gaze makes Shota uncomfortable for reasons he doesn’t know, but he can’t seem to force his own eyes away from Midoriya’s.

“He doesn’t belong in prison, Sensei. He’s not evil, he’s struggling...”

“...okay,” Shota says quietly.

“Okay?” the teen sniffles back, looking up at him; wet eyes and tear-stained cheeks on full display.

“I believe you, Kid, but I can’t promise anything,” Shota starts slowly, because he can’t. He’s just another number— and not one that ranks high when it comes to authority. “Deku is a villain, he has an arrest warrant and if he doesn’t own up to that, there’s nothing we can do for him. I see that you want to help him, but you can’t save someone who doesn’t want to be saved.”

As of now, all of this is in Nezu and Tsukauchi’s hands, not Shota’s. He’s almost in the same boat as Midoriya— a voice that could be easily ignored, but he’s willing to try if Midoriya is sure about this.

If the kid is sure enough to sneak out against orders, and to sit here pleading Deku’s case.

If he’s right, and Deku isn’t what they think he is, Shota will fight for him too.

He already knows the story of Deku and All Might meeting, but what else is there that he doesn’t know about? What else has not just Deku, but Midoriya been through that could’ve carved their unique characters despite them being the same person.

“He wants to be saved,” Midoriya sniffles, wiping at his nose. He blinks wet lashes at Shota before dropping his gaze back to his lap, voice barely a whisper, “he just doesn’t know how. But... but he wouldn’t have turned himself in if he didn’t.”

“Let’s hope that’s the truth then,” Shota sighs. “Let’s hope he tells the truth too. Detective Tsukauchi is here, and he will know if Deku is lying. He’s digging his own grave if he lies to them. Redemption is something you earn, it’s not a given, and it’s not something they’ll consider if he’s not truthful and compliant. Are you really sure about this, Midoriya?”

“I want to help him,” Midoriya states, tone curled with sheer determination. “I believe Deku.”

“If you’re sure,” Shota sighs, rubbing at the back of his neck. This isn’t exactly where he thought this would be going— how he could know so little, yet feel sympathy for a villain who he thought aided in trying to kill him.

“There’s no guarantee we can help him, Midoriya,” Shota feels the need to remind, not sure what to feel when the spark of determination on Midoriya’s eyes doesn’t flicker or waver. Shota still hesitates, knowing this could go either way. “We can only try. This is up to Deku.”

“I know,” Midoriya bows his head thankfully, still trying to dry up his face.

Satisfied with that answer, Shota continues awkwardly, “alright. Now, go get dressed if you want, I assume you want to be there to support Deku. We’ll leave when you’re ready, they’re already waiting for us. We haven’t talked to Deku yet; he refused to answer anything unless you were there too, which is why I’m here. Hurry up, Problem Child, we’re kinda on a time crunch.”

“Right!” The teen springs to his feet abandoning his mug and disappearing down the hall and into the guest room.

“Are you sure about this, Shota?” Hizashi’s voice is so soft.

Shota cranes his head to the side to catch his husband’s gaze, one shoulder lifting in a shrug, “I’m sure that we don’t really know Deku. Midoriya wasn’t what we thought he was at first glance... who's to say we haven’t made the same mistake with Deku?”

“Alright,” Hizashi sighs, sipping at his tea, “just... please be careful, okay?”

“Always.”

Midoriya is antsy as Shota leads him across campus.

It’s still early enough that the students not at internships are still tucked away in their dorms for a while longer, if not still asleep, so it’s easy enough guiding Midoriya through the school without disturbance.

Shota believes at this point, it’s just him, Nezu, Tsukauchi, Hizashi and Midoriya who know of Deku’s presence at the school, and until they can get a handle on that without interference from any of the rest of the staff, any of the students, or Yagi (who Shota is the most worried about finding this out on his own), Shota hopes the secret can be kept for a while longer.

They’d waited too long when it came to telling people about Midoriya, but it might do just as much harm telling people too early about Deku. There’s a fine line they need to walk with something sensitive like this, lest they risk someone getting hurt— probably Deku.

Shota might not completely believe the kid, can’t until he hears it from Deku himself and had a source he trusts, like Tsukauchi, verifying Deku’s honesty, but that doesn’t mean he wants to see the kid get hurt.

Yagi had been rough on Midoriya, and that’s with that weird One for All Quirk the kid has protecting him. Shota doesn’t want to see a kid, with the face of a student Shota has grown fond of over the last week, getting hurt, especially if Midoriya is right and Deku isn’t what they believe him to be.

Not to mention that if Deku is still Quirkless, he’s not going to have any protection against Yagi. Villain or not, Yagi had gone too hard on Midoriya when Deku is a verified Quirkless person.

Shota shakes himself from his thoughts as he leads the teenager into the school, and through a series of hallways that lead to the hidden away Quirk proof room. Tsukauchi and Nezu are still watching Deku through the window and door panel, and from the looks of it, the teen hasn’t been much of a thrill.

“Good morning, Midoriya-kun!” Nezu is the first to greet him, cheerily as usual.

“Good morning,” Tsukauchi turns to look at the teen too, eyebrows furrowed as he chews obviously at the inside of his cheek.

Midoriya gives a sheepish smile as he returns the greetings pleasantly, before stepping closer to the window and peering into the small room. Instantly, the kid grimaces before his expression morphs to a carefully constructed passiveness.

He draws in an almost unnoticeably shaky breath as he stares at himself in that room.

Shota moves closer to provide comfort in proximity, standing almost shoulder to shoulder with the teenager. He can’t even begin to imagine what Midoriya must be going through right now.

The kid tenses abruptly when their shoulder brush, before relaxing almost immediately when he realizes who it is at his side, looking back over his shoulder and offering Shota a wobbly smile.

Shota lifts a hand to pat the teen’s shoulder, and it seems to work in calming him down a bit more.

“Can... can we go in?” Midoriya asks hesitantly.

“Of course!” Nezu chimes easily, smiling toothily at Midoriya, “I’m quite interested to see how Deku responds to you, Midoriya-kun, since he was quite persistent about your presence here. You’ve made quite the impression on our young friend in there.”

Tsukauchi eyes Nezu before turning to look at Midoriya, “this room is Quirk proof, so you won’t be able to use One for All, or Danger Sense in there until we turn it off. Nezu will deactivate the force field once we explain everything to Deku and we can talk. I plan to use my Quirk to get to the bottom of this, so we need Deku on the same page before we lighten up on our security.”

“Oh, um,” Midoriya nods, “yes sir.”

“Go on, Problem Child,” Shota nudges him towards the door where Nezu takes a step back to allow access. “You go first— you're the one he wants to see.”

The boy nods, that sharp determination back on his face as he eases towards the door, hand landing on the handle. He hesitates, glancing around at all the adults. Midoriya sucks in another breath before finally easing the door open.

He inches into the room and—

“Are you an idiot?!”

Shota startles, eyes instantly landing on a fuming Midoriya. The kid’s body is tight with anger, eyes the most emotional Shota had seen in the week he’d known Midoriya. Bright green eyes are narrowed dangerously on the handcuffed teen, lips curled in a displeased snarl.

He’s honestly surprised that’s the greeting the kid gives his doppelganger.

Deku lulls his head in Midoriya’s direction, unsurprised, as a small smile curls onto his lips as he regards his doppelganger, “I was wondering how long it would be until I saw you. I figured they’d be curious about what I had to say and humor me, but I was starting to think you lied to me and didn’t want to see me again.”

“Of course not,” Midoriya scoffs, crossing his arms over his chest, “I would never lie about something like this, you idiot. If you had of just come with me when I offered, you wouldn’t have had to wait at all! It’s not my fault you took matters into your own hands and turned yourself in.”

“Isn’t that what you wanted?” Deku glares lightly.

“Yes,” the teen seethes, “but I can’t help you if I don’t know what your dumb plans are! You could've at least given me a heads up! You said no when I offered to help you! That’s pretty final to me!”

“I needed to think about it! And, what, you think I could’ve just walked away with you right then and there?” Deku shifts, leaning back in his chair and letting his entire attention settle on Midoriya, “I still had loose ends to tie up, and I couldn’t leave my journals there. I doubt they’d be able to crack my code, but think about if they had. Scary shit in those books— would you have preferred I leave them in Shigaraki’s dry, decay-y hands?”

“You’re insufferable,” Midoriya groans, stepping into the room without hesitation. “How are you the most untrusting, trusting person I’ve ever met— wouldn't trust me when I was there, offering help, but all too willing to when I have no idea what’s going on!”

“At least I’m actually trusting you,” Deku sneers, “I don’t have to be here!”

“Kind of hard to leave when you’re cuffed to a chair!” Midoriya snaps back.

“Hey!” Shota glares between the two of them, “knock it off, the both of you. You’re teenagers, not preschoolers. Act like it. We didn’t bring Midoriya here for the two of you to bicker.”

Midoriya wilts instantly, looking back at Shota with a kicked-puppy expression, while Deku regards Shota uncertainly. The villain leans back in his chair, “what happened to taking everything with a grain of salt because I’m a villain, Eraser?”

“I never said it wouldn’t happen,” Shota shrugs in his own defense, “count yourself lucky we’re even humoring you instead of shipping you off to the police station to be processed and sent away.”

“Oh yeah,” the teen snorts, cuffs clinking as he pulls at his hands lightly, “I feel really lucky.”

“You could be in jail,” Midoriya chimes in, eyeing Deku warningly.

Deku pauses, swallowing uncertainly as he bows his head. For the first time since Deku had shown up, he looks almost... scared. Was he fearful of prison? Shota doubts the kid wouldn’t have heard horror stories of prisons like Tartarus working with villains, but he looks terrified.

Shota can look at Deku right now, and one-hundred percent see Midoriya in there too.

Something unpleasant shifts in his stomach at the thought.

Maybe they’re more alike than they thought they were. He’d honestly thought the same thing about Midoriya when he’d met him— thought the kid wasn’t anything like the Deku they knew of but... if Deku himself isn’t anything like they think he is... how wrong are they about the kid?

Deku clears his throat, that mask of a teasing smile slipping back into place, even if his eyes still look scared and dull, “alright, alright, fine. You’re right. This is... more then I deserve, I guess.”

“No,” Midoriya sighs deeply, stepping more into the room as he cards anxious fingers through green curls, “I’m sorry. That was harsh. I know you’re... I’m sorry. You deserve more than this...” the teen turns back to the adults, now all crowded in the door frame with Shota front and center considering he’s the only one who stepped up to scold the teens. “Can we uncuff him? Please? He promises he won’t do anything bad.”

“He does?” Deku muses teasingly, without looking up. Midoriya, who is close enough to the other, gently backhands him in the shoulder with enough force to have the other wincing. “I was kidding. Yes, I promise I won’t do anything. There’s literally nothing I can do anyways, I mean I’m no match for Eraserhead as is, but throw in a Detective, the smartest being in Japan and whatever the hell you are, Midoriya and I may as well take it lying down.”

“Midoriya, kid,” Tsukauchi hesitates. “We should have some form of Quirk nullification on Deku at all times. If we want to use my Quirk, we can’t deactivate the room, so the cuffs should stay on.”

Midoriya’s brow furrows as he looks between the three men before glancing back at Deku, “but he’s Quirkless? Aren’t they a little pointless?”

“I tried to tell them,” Deku chimes in brightly, glancing at Midoriya with a knowing look, “Eraser insisted on using his Quirk, which is useless on me, I can understand the Quirk cuffs, restraint, but the room seems like a bit of an overkill— speaking of Eraser, how’re the eyes? They were lookin’ pretty sore this morning.”

“Fine,” Shota drawls drily.

Deku’s shoulder slump as he sighs. His head lulls back in defeat, giving a tiny shake that fans his dark curls into his eyes so similarly to how Midoriya does is as he speaks softly, “you know what, Midoriya? I don’t mind the cuffs. Probably better for everyone if they stay on anyways. You’re fighting a losing battle.”

“I mind,” Midoriya sighs, turning back to the adults, “he’s not here to hurt anyone. You don’t... none of you understand. He doesn’t want to hurt people and I... I get you want to keep everyone safe, and that you need to be cautious, and I know that he’s... he’s done bad things but he came for help.”

“For help, you say?” Nezu hums, glancing over at the cuffed teenager, “what kind of help, Deku?”

Deku opens his mouth the speak, but shuts it just as fast and offers a hardly there shrug instead, “it’s starting to feel like it doesn’t even matter what I say, or do. This... this is why I was so afraid, Midoriya.”

Midoriya draws in an unsteady breath, eyes watering once again as he bows his head.

Shota thinks there’s some hidden message in that that none of them understand, but Midoriya clearly does if the way he crumples emotionally is anything to go off.

Midoriya sniffles, wipes at his eyes before looking up once again, “you don’t trust him and that’s... that’s fine. He doesn’t deserve that yet, but... but don’t you trust me?”

“Midoriya—” Tsukauchi starts uncertainly, but is quickly cut off by Nezu.

“Deku,” Nezu is focused intently on the cuffed teen, “I’m willing to compromise with you. You and Midoriya-kun want the cuffs off, but at this moment, we simply can’t trust you. If you want us to consider your request, I need you to answer one question completely honestly and we can carry on from there.”

Deku looks between everyone, eyes lingering on Midoriya the longest.

The student bows his head in a nod, which Deku stares at for a second longer before looking back at Nezu, “alright, stoat, sounds fair. Shoot.”

“Deku,” Midoriya seethes, “don’t call people things!”

“What?” Deku cocks an eyebrow, “am I wrong? Is that not what he is? A white stoat? What else could he be? He’s not a bear, he’s too small, even if it does make sense for the ears, and he’s not a dog or a cat. A mouse or a rat is the closest guess, but his tail is furry, which isn’t typical for rodents of that nature. That leaves a stoat. A white stoat. Besides, what else would you like me to call them when no one has introduced themselves? Hatman, the rat and Homeless man?”

“You know who Eraserhead is,” Midoriya scoffs, rolling his eyes. "That's just rude."

“But if I didn’t,” Deku teases.

“Unfortunately,” Nezu chimes, nose twitching in interest, “Deku does have a point. That is our oversight. You know Eraserhead, but this is a detective sent in from the Musutafu police department, Detective Tsukauchi, and I am this school’s principal, Nezu!”

Deku bows his head in acknowledgement, “was I right about your species?”

“I will not confirm, nor deny!” Nezu grins, flashing pearly white teeth. “Your analysis ability is quite remarkable though, Deku, I must say stoat is not a guess I hear very often.”

“We’re getting off track,” Tsukauchi interrupts, sharp eyes flicking around the room. “We don't have time for this. I agreed to this to ask questions, so, Deku, what do you know of All for One?”

“Who?” Deku quirks his head in confusion.

He stares at Tsukauchi for a long second before glancing over a Midoriya and then recognition lights up in his eyes, “oh, Sensei? I mean... nothing really? All I know is Shigaraki is the guy’s lapdog. Jumps when Sensei says to jump, chases his approval like a desperate mutt. You should’ve seen the wreck that guy was after you arrested his precious Sensei; he was like a ticking time bomb.”

“Did you ever meet Sensei?”

“God no,” Deku huffs with a shake of his head. “I didn’t want to— none of us did. All Sensei ever cared about was Shigaraki anyways. Trust me, all any of us ever heard of the man was when he’d communicate with Shigaraki through a TV in the bar. Never in person. Sometimes Shigaraki would head over to visit Sensei, wherever the man was, but only Kurogiri and Shigaraki ever went. What does Sensei have to do with any of this?”

Tsukauchi frowns, staring at the kid, “do you know of Sensei’s Quirk?”

“No,” Deku returns the frown, “why?”

“He’s telling the truth,” Tsukauchi finally announces, grimacing uncertainly. “He’s still Quirkless.”

“Of course I’m still Quirkless— was there even a question about that? I’ve been telling you that since I met you! Where would I magically get a Quirk, huh?” Deku huffs, affronted, “I’m Quirkless, I’ve got the joint and all. Surely you lot would know that? Just because Midoriya here has some weird Quirk he shouldn’t have, doesn’t mean I do too. I’m not so lucky.”

Deku pauses glancing back at Midoriya. The villain blinks owlishly, studying Midoriya’s pinched expression as they talk about All for One, “wait... why are you... Midoriya, what does Sensei’s Quirk do?”

“Do you... really not know?” Midoriya asks quietly.

“No,” Deku shakes his head slightly, “I have no idea but... it’s bad, isn’t it? You wouldn’t be looking at me like that if it wasn’t. What is his Quirk?”

“Can I tell him?” Midoriya asks, looking at Shota directly.

It’s nice that the teen still looks to him, even if there are people with more authority in the room.

Shota sees Nezu glance over out of the corner of his eye, nodding lightly with a seriousness in his gaze that Shota doesn’t see often. Tsukauchi still looks like he’s trying to process the fact that Deku isn’t working with the villain they’re trying to understand directly. He offers no aid in their confusion when it comes to Yagi's arch enemy villain.

Shota bobs his head in one light nod, in response to Midoriya.

Midoriya returns the nod, looking back towards Deku, “All for One has the ability to give and take Quirks at will. He can keep them for himself, collect them, or pass them onto someone else. He steals Quirks, and he can force them onto others, even unwilling participants. The detective was only curious as to if you’d gotten a Quirk from him too.”

“He can...” Deku draws in an unsteady breath, expression paling as he processes, “I wouldn’t want a Quirk if it came like that. That’s immoral, even for me... We’ve been working with someone like that all along? He’s been leading us? He was always just... just a voice in a TV. Like Shigaraki’s conscience or something. I swear I didn’t... I had no idea he could... Oh God.”

The colour has drained from Deku’s face entirely, and he looks seconds away from a panic attack, eyes wide and mouth quivering. He lets out a humorless laugh, looking genuinely scared, “maybe... maybe I didn’t know what I was getting myself into after all...”

Shota feels bad for the kid, and it takes a second for him to process the feeling considering he’s looking at Deku, the kid who’d made Shota’s teaching job far harder than it ever should since that first week of school. Deku had played a role in all of Shota’s teaching shortcomings since this new school year started. He just can’t seem to process the contradicting emotions.

It’s Midoriya who makes the first move towards the panicking teenager, wrapping his arms around Deku without any hesitance and pressing his cheek against Deku’s curls as he hugs him.

Deku curls into his doppelganger as much as his restraints will allow, drawing in and forcing out unsteady breaths as he squeezes his eyes shut. There’s something heartbreaking about watching the kid struggle through the beginnings of a panic attack, pushing it down and repressing it.

“I don’t know anything about that,” Deku whispers into the sleeve of Midoriya’s sweatshirt.

“That’s alright, Deku,” Nezu consoles quietly. “We were unsure whether or not you would know anything, but we needed to be sure before this could go any further. Now, as for our side of the deal, we’ll remove the cuffs. I must caution to you that you’re still under arrest. Eraserhead here won’t hesitate to use his capture weapon to restrain you if he sees fit. Behave yourself.”

“I assumed as much,” Deku mutters, shifting away from Midoriya. “I’ll behave.”

In turn, the student huffs out a breath, but does release his hold on his doppelganger, finally moving around Deku to settle in the chair at his side. Deku glances over, the corners of his mouth ticking upwards faintly, and Shota thinks he even spots some relief in the villain’s green eyes.

Shota stares between the two for a second now that they’re well and truly side by side, just taking it in.

It’s like looking at twins, almost completely identical if not for small distinctions between them— Deku's exhausted eyes and the almost unhealthy thinness in his face and body, compared to Midoriya’s full, healthy complexion and muscly form.

“Detective,” Nezu calls attention to the only person still stood hesitantly in the door way, “would you be so kind as to take off the cuffs? A deal is a deal, after all.”

“Right,” the man drawls, still looking unsure.

He eases into the room and stops behind Deku, hesitating once again before dropping down to one knee behind the kid as he unlocks and deactivates the handcuffs.

“This is only for now,” Tsukauchi warns sharply, “you’ll be wearing them again before you step foot out of this room, understand?”

Instantly, Deku is pulling his hands out from behind him as he nods his understanding, massaging at raw wrists. Shota doesn’t know if he’s glad to see Deku’s wrists and arms mostly unmarred by scars, or if it makes him feel worse about Midoriya’s marred up arms.

“Thank you,” Deku whispers into the room as he rubs at his red skin. “I never thought you’d even consider this. Looks like I was right to request Midoriya here.”

His words leave a foul taste in Shota’s mouth because he’s right. Completely. If Midoriya wasn’t here, they would never have even considered taking the handcuffs off. None of them would, even with confirmation from Tsukauchi that the kid in indeed still Quirkless.

It takes a couple minutes for everyone to sort themselves out. Nezu closes them all in the room, and one by one everyone takes a seat at the table— it's similar to when they’d been in this position with Midoriya: Nezu and Tsukauchi facing the kid, while Shota takes the side of the table, sat between Nezu and Midoriya.

The only difference is that they’re now facing two Midoriyas.

“So...” Deku asks after a moment of silence once everyone’s seated, hands interlaced together and settled on the table top, “how are we playing this?”

“This is an interrogation,” Tsukauchi mutters in return, “we ask questions and you answer.”

“Right,” Deku nods quickly, “makes sense.”

“Let’s start simple, shall we?” Nezu hums first, intense gaze watching Deku, “how did you join the League of Villains, Deku?”

“They were recruiting,” the boy shrugs simply. “I wasn’t even really interested, I just followed along. Dabi was the one who brought Toga and I over. I was living on the streets with Dabi— he sorta took me under his wing, and then did the same for Toga when we found her too. I was only fourteen when I met Dabi, I didn’t know shit about the world— not really. I’d be long dead if it wasn’t for him.”

“Why get involved with them?” Shota finds himself asking.

“Gee, I wonder, Eraser,” Deku huffs sarcastically, “why would we find ourselves a roof over our heads that wasn’t seconds away from collapsing, decent warm meals that we didn’t have to pay for, safety we’d never be able to find on the streets and all for the little price of jumping through Shigaraki’s hoops when he needed it. That is a toughie, isn’t it?”

“Deku,” Midoriya warns under his breath.

Shota just blinks as he tries to process the sarcasm. Pretty ballsy, but he supposes Deku isn’t a student of his, even if he looks just like Midoriya.

The villain sighs through his nose at being scolded, raising his hands in surrender, “sorry, Eraser. Look, I weighed my options. The League was bad, I knew that, but so was living on the streets. You don’t appreciate things like a shower, or a bathroom, or warm food, or even a futon on the floor until you’ve been living without for so long. It was a lesser of two evils sorta thing.”

Tsukauchi stares hard at Deku, mouth pressing into a straight line, “and what do you have against Heroes? Against All Might?”

Deku lulls his attention towards the detective, his own mouth pressing in a frown, “nothing, why?”

Tsukauchi’s lip twitches like he doesn’t like the answer— doesn’t understand the answer he's getting, “you shared a highly confidential secret. You've been handing out dangerous analysis that’s been getting Heroes across Japan hurt, even killed. What do you have against them?”

“Why am I the only one being blamed for that?” Deku sighs heavily, “sure, blame the Quirkless kid instead of the moron who shared said highly confidential secret with an underage minor he didn’t even know, right? I didn’t tell myself that secret, and I shouldn’t have been expected to keep a highly confidential secret, that I didn’t even want to know, either. Why is it my fault? I was unaware the police department operated on a superiority complex and discrimination, Detective.”

“That’s not what I meant, Deku,” Tsukauchi frowns, looking genuinely offended by the accusation. “I’m trying to be on your side—”

“Are you?” Deku snaps heatedly, “because to me, it sounds like you’re on All Might’s side. Everyone is always against me! I’m so tired of everyone using me as a scapegoat! The number one Hero messes up and ropes me into his stupid confidential mess, but it’s my fault. Villains do bad shit across Japan, but it’s my fault. I get hurt, and bullied and chased down for existing— I get yelled at and belittled and told to jump off a roof— but it’s always useless Deku’s fault, isn’t it?! It’s always Deku, Deku, Deku and for what? What do you actually know about me, huh?”

Deku slumps back in his chair, thoroughly pissed off, and Shota... he feels scolded. He feels like an asshole, and he feels beyond guilty, and he feels like an awful Hero, and it just... it doesn’t make sense. He doesn’t understand why he feels like this.

A tense silence settles in the room, no one really knowing what to say.

Deku turns to Midoriya, an onslaught of emotions flickering across his face before landing on defeat, lip wobbling, “this is why I can’t trust anyone. I told you; I always get burned in the end.”

“Let’s all take a second to compose ourselves,” Nezu suggests calmly after another lingering second to tense silence. There’s a subtle seriousness in his boss’ expression that Shota doesn’t know what to make of. “Deku-kun, why don’t you take a breath and we can continue in a moment, hm?”

The teen in question bows his head in a nod, drawing in a shaky breath through his anger and defeat. Midoriya’s lips are pulled in a deep frown, hand settling on top of Deku’s where the other’s hand is sat on his own thigh.

When Deku looks up again, all emotion is gone, replaced with a cheeky smile that doesn’t reach his eyes, “sorry,” he laughs lightly, “lost myself a bit there, won’t happen again.”

“You know you’re allowed to express emotions, right?” Shota says slowly.

There’s something about the display he just witnessed that doesn’t sit right.

Deku had broken before their eyes, shattered beyond repair, and then put himself back together in a way no teenager should be able to in nothing more than a couple seconds. There’s no question about it, this boy is so obviously holding himself together with nothing but thread at this point.

Stringing himself along with a mask of indifference.

Shota wonder how long it took a kid like Midoriya to perfect that— prior to his villain debut, during middle school, or even grade school. When had he needed to start pretending?

Shota regards the kid intently, “you’re allowed to be angry.”

“Hah, no. Not when you’re on this side of the table,” Deku returns, cheerful expression lapsing for just a second as he speaks, “but thanks, Eraser.”

Deku draws in a breath as he composes himself again, eyes flicking back to Tsukauchi, “and now, to answer your question, I have nothing against anyone. You have all these villains claiming I gave them analysis when they’re arrested, but they lied to you. I have every single professional analysis I’ve ever been compensated for in my notebooks. I could list them all right now. Villains hide behind my name and I guess now I’ll be taking the blame for it all, huh?”

The laugh the kid breathes out is humorless and emotionless.

It sounds so defeated.

No kid should ever sound like that— villain or not.

“Why should we believe you?” Tsukauchi asks quietly, and there’s nothing accusing about the words.

It’s a simple question, one they’d ask any criminal suddenly pleading innocent with a track record like Deku’s.

“'The police operate largely on hearsay,'” Midoriya says quietly without looking up. Deku turns to the other in surprise as Midoriya continues, “'they know what others have told them, and they believe whatever suits them.' That's what Deku said to me when I met him. And it's... it's not wrong. Not about this.”

“Yeah,” Deku sighs, glancing back at Midoriya with an impressed huff, “that. Good to know you were listening, Hero.”

Deku shakes his head, glancing at the adults before continuing, “you’ve never talked to me, and I’ve never admitted to anything but I’ve still risen to some sort of supervillain in your channels. I’m not saying I’m innocent, I will own up to what I have done, but I haven’t done half of what you and the news say I have. People put words into my mouth, knowing I can’t defend myself. I turned myself in. I tried to offer help. I’ve tried to be on your side. Is it so wrong for me to want help now?”

“What do you mean by that, Deku-kun?” Nezu inquires curiously, “you’ve tried to be on our side? You provided information that hurt my staff, and put my students at risk. You helped kidnap one of my students. I fail to see how that’s aiding our side.”

“I can never win with you people,” Deku sighs heavily, massaging at his temples.

“I didn’t tell him anything useful,” the teen continues, scoffing in annoyance as he looks right at Shota, “seriously. I’m sure even Shigaraki would’ve spotted some of Eraser’s weaknesses after watching him fight. Wanna know what I told him? Your hair floats when you’re using your Quirk, and it does. You can literally see his hair float, it’s not hard to put two and two together.

“It’s my ass on the line if he’s not satisfied, so I also told him that there’s a limit for how long you can keep your eyes open with your Quirk active. That’s human nature— you can literally only keep your eyes open for so long, and considering the strain something like Erasure would put on one’s eyes? It was only logical. It was the weakest analysis I’ve ever provided. The least I could get away with without having Shigaraki’s Quirk turned around onto me for disobeying him. That’s it. Then I left.”

Shota doesn’t really know how to feel about that. Though it’s true, and obvious if you’re observant enough, Deku had still provided that information that Shigaraki had used to hurt him.

Deku pauses, nose wrinkling in thought, “and Bakugou... Don’t even get me started on him. I knew him. Before he applied to your school, before he could even talk— he was an asshole. Always was. Bullied me. Tormented me. Hated me because he thought I was weak compared to him.”

“But... all that aside, he was always so headstrong. We’d always wanted to be Heroes together, before I was diagnosed Quirkless and he got his powerful Quirk,” Deku pauses again, glancing up towards the ceiling in thought. “I knew Shigaraki was going to take one of them. I simply suggested the one student I figured could hold his own. Shigaraki could offer him the sweetest deal, but I knew Bakugou would just tell him to fuck himself. He had no problem saying it to me, after all. He’s got his bullhead set on being a Hero, and has since we were little. Nothing will persuade him at this point.”

“You were playing mastermind this whole time?” Shota asks slowly, “it seems you were orchestrating things we didn’t even know about.”

“I was...” Deku bites his lip, “trying to level the playing field. I don’t have power. I’m insignificant. But that doesn’t mean I’m useless. Shigaraki relied on my analysis and stopped thinking on his own. That’s a mistake. It wasn’t hard to nudge him; he likes a challenge like Bakugou. He likes the game. I worked for him, but that doesn’t mean I worked well. I’ve long since given up on trying to please people— trying to be something no one will ever let me be. I’m not on either side.”

“But you’ve been helping us?” Tsukauchi looks startled at the revelation.

“I wouldn’t go as far as to say helping,” Deku rubs at the back of his neck, “I don’t want to see you lose. Just because I don’t believe in Heroes anymore, doesn’t mean they don’t do good work, and that they don’t help other people— like, I’ve always thought you were really cool, Eraser. Your fight style, and how you level the playing field, it’s like watching a Pre-Quirk fight.”

Shota feels both honored and extremely guilty.

Deku is quiet for a long second, sharp eyes slicking between the three adults across from him.

He seems hesitant, like he wants to say something, but doesn’t actually want to— or, doesn’t know how to. “He... has an upper hand, you know. There’s a reason he’s always one step ahead. There’s... there’s an informant connected to this school that’s reporting back.”

Shota’s heart stops in his chest— there's been talk of a traitor since the training camp attack where the League had known the secured location they’d brought the students to.

There was no way to know unless someone told them.

Shota sees both Nezu and Tsukauchi stiffen up, and even Midoriya’s back goes ramrod. Shota’s sure he looks just as surprised.

“Do you... know who this informant is?” Tsukauchi asks calmly.

“No idea,” Deku shakes his head. “Only worked with Shigaraki the entire time I’ve been a part of League. That’s all I know, sorry. I thought it might be useful to you.”

“No need to apologize,” Nezu forces out, “that’s more information than we’d started with. We’d believed there was a chance there could be a traitor, after all the unfortunate incidents that have taken place, but to have verification that our theory is the truth...”

Nezu tapers off thoughtfully, obviously not wanting to discuss anything more in the presence of Midoriya and Deku. “We’ll take that into consideration, thank you, Deku.”

Deku nods slowly, “so... what happens now?”

“Well,” Tsukauchi clears his throat. “I still need to bring you into the police station. I’d like to conduct a more formal interrogation, which will be recorded. I have more questions; I need to get to the bottom of everything if I’m going to reverse your death certificate and we can go from there.”

“Am I going to jail?” Deku asks quietly, sounding the most terrified Shota thinks he’s ever heard a teenager— which is an accomplishment consider Midoriya had sounded just as scared a week ago.

Tsukauchi hesitates, opening his mouth to speak—

“Not if I can help it,” Nezu interrupts sharply, surprising everyone with the chipper declaration. “You’ve been more than helpful, and completely honest. I believe there’s a chance we may be able to turn this around so it portrays you as a victim, instead of a villain that the world knows you to be. Trauma is a motivator, and it sounds like you’ve been through plenty. You were wronged. Discriminated against. The police and Heroes alike have provided you a disservice.”

Nezu hums to himself, “you won’t get off free, but it will lessen your punishment if we can prove you were nudged towards villainy with no other option, not entirely of sound mind, which seems to be the case. Plus, there’s the fact that you are indeed a minor, there’s a large margin for redemption and rehabilitation with juveniles.”

“Right,” Deku nods slowly, “but what does that mean? What’ll happen to me?”

“We don’t know your entire story yet, Midoriya-kun, but we can delve more into that at the police station. We should know everything before we build your case,” Nezu pauses, studies Midoriya before smiling. “If all goes according to my plan, Midoriya-kun, I would like to formally offer you a position at this school.”

“Wait,” Deku nearly falls over, “what? What the hell?”

“You have a talent,” Nezu hums, pushing himself up from his seat and pulling himself up onto the table so he can strut towards the teen. “Analysis like yours should be nurtured— there's room for your talents to grow, and I believe this school is the perfect place for that. Assuming I can iron the details out with the police chief, I’d like to offer you the position of my personal student.”

“I’m a villain,” is the only think Deku seems to be able to force out.

“You’ve been wronged,” Nezu corrects kindly, stopping right in front of the stalling teenager. “You’ve done bad things, no argument, but you can grow from that. Learn from your mistakes. You made the choice to seek help— to risk it all and turn yourself in. That’s a step in the right direction. Your notebooks will aid us. Analysis is far better used to help people than to hurt people, no? A gift like yours shouldn’t be locked away. I know potential when I see it, and you are simply fascinating.”

“You want me at this school? A Hero school? Yuuei?”

“I do,” Nezu nods, whiskers arching forwards in interest. “It won’t be in the traditional way, not really, you’ll still be under high security, likely an ankle monitor for a while, but you’ll be able to learn and attend classes. It won’t be easy, you have a record, even with the students, but we just might be able to rehabilitate you in the upcoming years.”

“That...” Shota frowns to himself, thinking it over, “that could work. You’d have restrictions that other students wouldn’t, very little freedom, even within these walls, but it’s a step up from Tartarus...”

“Anything’s a step up from Tartarus,” Deku sniffles, dragging his sleeve over his eyes, “are you serious? This isn’t... you’re not tricking me?”

“I told you that you weren’t putting your trust in the right people,” Midoriya lightly bumps his shoulder against Deku’s, “Aizawa-Sensei doesn't lie, he gives rational deceptions.”

“Brat,” Shota scoffs playfully, softening at Midoriya’s bright smile, “we’re completely serious, Deku. You’ll need to put in the effort too, but this sounds like it'll be a real option if we get the green light from the right people. It won’t be easy though.”

“There will be hoops to jump through,” Tsukauchi agrees thoughtfully, “but I think it’s doable knowing what we know. I’ll help Nezu where I can and once we have a full statement from you, we’ll be able to start on the paperwork. We can go from there.”

“Yes,” Nezu agrees. “We should make our way to police station hastily.”

“I...” Deku draws in a shaky breath, “can Eraser be there with me? I figure Midoriya isn’t exactly a good candidate, you can’t walk around with both of us together without raising suspicion but... um, I trust Eraser? Midoriya trusts him, so I... I do too.”

“Sure, Kid,” Shota agree instantly.

He wants to get the full story too, but he’ll stick with the kid if he wants Shota there with him. It’s the least he can do after everything. Another Midoriya Izuku who Shota knows will be a handful that he’ll undoubtedly grow fond of.

“I just have to walk Midoriya back to the dorms, he’s grounded for sneaking out.”

Deku snickers and Midoriya’s face morphs to betrayal along with a squawk of: "Sensei!"

“Wonderful,” Nezu beams, “just, before we go, I have one question for Deku. You said that there was information you could offer us that wasn’t in one of your journals,” Nezu starts, “was that the information that there’s a traitor in our ranks?”

“No,” Deku arches an eyebrow, looking around as if determining if they deserve the information he’s harboring, “it’s... worse. Have you heard of the Shie Hassaikai? The yakuza?”

“Yes,” Tsukauchi bows his head in a nod, glancing subtly at Nezu and Shota both, “we’re familiar.”

“Good,” Deku nods, “that makes this easier. Listen, they have a little girl held hostage. They’re using her Quirk to make Quirk erasing bullets and the League has an interest in her. She’s in grave danger and...”

Deku’s hands curl into fists, speaking through clenched teeth, “and she needs help. They’re abusing her. It’s completely inhumane, what they’re doing to her. She needs help, before the League tries to get their hands on her first. Heroes were never there when I needed them, but you need to be there for her. If you guys don’t help her, I’ll find a way to do it myself.”

And yeah, Shota realizes, maybe they were wrong about Deku after all.

Chapter Text

Izuku doesn’t see Deku for the rest of the day.

When evening finally falls, Shota returns back from the police station, sans his green-haired doppelganger. Izuku feels himself wilt from his place at the coffee table where he and Present Mic were watching an old superhero movie in English.

He turns to stare at the dark-haired man, mouth an unsteady line.

“Don’t give me that look,” the underground Hero sighs out as he digs the ball of his palm into the back of his neck as if to relieve a strain in his muscles, “you know we can’t magically make things happen, Midoriya. He’s still a wanted person. He’s still under arrest, and he’ll still need to be processed all the same. He may not have done everything we think he has, but he has done some of it.”

“What’s going to happen to him though?” Izuku can’t help but ask, gnawing on his bottom lip worriedly. “He’s not going to Tartarus, is he? He doesn’t deserve that— you know he’s not like Shigaraki or All for One, Sensei.”

“He’s not,” Sensei agrees clipped, “and for now, he won’t be. For now. But my point still stands. He’s a wanted criminal, Midoriya, there’s absolutely no way I could’ve walked out with him tonight. Deku will be spending the night in a holding cell at the precinct, and that will, unfortunately, be the case until something is sorted out for him. He won’t be alone though, the detective personally volunteered to watch over him to make sure nothing happens to him while he’s there."

“That’s... good,” Izuku allows softly.

He isn’t entirely sure what he thinks about the Detective Tsukauchi in this reality, but he does trust the man’s character just from knowing his own Detective Tsukauchi. Maybe his environment had changed him— Yagi-san and the things Deku has admitted to— but Izuku knows that the man wouldn’t wrongly arrest and punish someone or let anything bad happen to him while he’s under his protection, even at the station.

Deku had been honest. He’d answered honestly, and they now have proof, in the form of a Lie Detector Quirk, that he wasn’t exactly what the world thought him to be. Nowhere close, even.

Izuku knows Tsukauchi is a good man, and a good detective.

“So, what’s the plan for the little listener anyways?” Present Mic angles his head to glance up backwards at Sensei, Izuku looking back once again as well, just as curious.

“Everything is up in the air at this point,” the man shakes his head tiredly, rounding the couch and plopping down beside the blonde-haired man. Izuku scooches back so he’s facing the narrow gap between the coffee table and the couch, able to look directly at the two men as he draws his knees up to his chest.

Sensei’s eyes slip closed for a second, blowing out a tired sigh before his eyes are slivering open once again, “for now, he’s safe. Tsukauchi is with him now, and Nezu was just leaving for a meeting when I left the station. He’s on Deku’s side, which is honestly more than we could hope for when it comes to the outcome of all this. There’s no one better to have on Deku’s side. As we speak, I’m sure the rat is rubbing elbows with representatives from the police station, Japanese Hero school board and the HPSC trying to sort this out.”

“That was fast,” Present Mic hums quietly.

Sensei bows his head in a slow nod, eyes shutting again, “this really isn’t something that can wait. They’ll want to deal with Deku as soon as possible, whether that be sending him to prison or... or arranging something else for him. I don’t know. No one can say for sure— this isn’t a decision anyone can make alone. This is something even Nezu will have the least say in.”

“I hope he doesn’t end up in prison,” Izuku mumbles into his knees, averting his gaze from the two men. “He really isn’t what people think he is— a-and I'm not saying he’s a saint or anything, but he’s not... he’s not a monster either. Prison seems... harsh.”

“I know, Kid,” Aizawa-Sensei sighs in exhaustion, “I know.”

“What are we hoping to get out of this?” Present Mic asks after a second of silence. And his voice is... odd, Izuku thinks. It’s not... put out, but there’s an uncertainty colouring the tone. Maybe hesitance.

“Ideally,” Aizawa-Sensei's eyes open again, head lulling in the other Pro’s direction, “Nezu is hoping to get the kid transferred into Yuuei’s custody. He’s got this idea of a Villain Rehabilitation program set in his mind that he wants to implement here. If he gets his way then... well, Deku will likely be the first participant.”

“Is that safe?” Present Mic hesitates. He glances down at Izuku, and Izuku thinks his face might’ve fallen at the question as the man’s face presses into a guilty grimace, “I’m sorry, Kiddo, but I need to know. This is... completely unorthodox. Even for a school like Yuuei.”

Sensei shrugs, “I’m not sure, honestly. I think it’s better for everyone if we have a mind like Deku’s working on our side, and I’m sure that’s what’s going to be Nezu’s convincing point as well. But... he’s been honest, and I do feel for the kid, honestly, Midoriya, but we can’t judge his entire character from one interrogation where he played nice. We know so little and Deku’s been working against us for so long now. Redemption is definitely on the table for him if he keeps this up, but he’ll need to work hard for that. It’s not wise to trust completely so quickly.”

“I...” Izuku swallows heavily, curling into himself a little more, “I think I understand, Sensei.”

Izuku keeps trying to put himself into the Heroes position, and Shigaraki into Deku’s. After everything they’d been though, he knows he couldn’t instantly trust Shigaraki if he suddenly had a change of heart, but he thinks... maybe everyone deserves to be saved.

He wants to save everyone he can, and it seems so easy now that Deku wants to be saved, but he knows it’s not going to be easy. None of this will be easy for his counterpart.

Deku is going to have to work for this.

If he wants redemption, he’s going to have to jump through hoops and be a better person.

Sensei bows his head in acknowledgment to Izuku before glancing back at the other Pro, who doesn’t look entirely content with the man’s answer. “He’ll still be guarded. Deku is Quirkless, so that’s not a problem. He’ll be under constant watch, and be tracked by some kind of monitor, I’d assume by Nezu, near constantly. I’m starting to think that rat doesn’t even sleep. I don’t think... Deku wants to be bad, Hizashi. I think he’s had a rough start to life that swept him in the wrong direction and now he wants some help getting back on his feet.”

“I understand that,” the blonde sighs, thumbing at his mustache, “but Deku’s done some shitty things. He’s done so much to us— to you, to our students, to Thirteen— I don’t think the staff, or even the students are going to be onboard with this.”

Izuku wilts thinking about that.

It had been so hard to get them to believe him, and he wasn’t even the Deku they knew; just unfortunate reality travel who ended up in the wrong reality.

Deku was this figure they feared.

Deku was the one whose name had people recoiling, that had fear curling into people’s expressions.

All Might had attacked without a thought when he’d thought Izuku was Deku, and the teachers had instantly thought Izuku was Deku who had brainwashed Aizawa-Sensei into allowing him access into the school.

People were scared of the name.

He really wouldn’t be in for an easy time.

“If people can’t acknowledge someone trying to better themselves, can’t accept someone working for and asking for redemption after putting in the time and working their ass off, then I don’t think they belong at this school, as a teacher or a student,” Aizawa-Sensei says slowly, but without hesitation.

“Shota—” Present Mic starts with a frown.

“No, I’m serious, Hizashi,” Sensei turns to stare at the other man. “We’re trying to raise the next generation of Heroes here. They need to have empathy towards someone else’s situation. They need to be able to accept that there are people who've done bad things and want to be better, are trying to be better. What kind of sad, pathetic world are we going to end up in if no one has empathy? If our Heroes aren’t able to see the bigger picture— if they can’t accept truth over rumors and gossip? I’ll be damned if I let my students turn into Heroes like Endeavor, Hizashi.”

A pause, and then: “If Deku is serious about this, I’m going to stand behind him and help him. I know you’re scared, and you have reason to be, but Deku deserves to have a chance to change— a chance to be better. He isn’t what we thought.”

Izuku stares wide-eyed at the man, even if Sensei’s gaze is locked on his husband.

“Everyone has a right to be hesitant. Everyone has a right to make their own assumptions— but no one has a right to base their entire view of someone on hearsay. That's what we have on Deku. We have word of mouth. We’ve let the word of convicted villains, and media outlets who crave attention and drama, ruin this kid’s life. He’s not innocent, but he at least deserves to have a chance to actually be someone other than the name villains and the media have built up around him. He deserves a chance to be Midoriya Izuku again.”

Present Mic wilts, but nods slowly, “okay, okay. I get it.”

“You’ll—” Izuku’s mouth feels dry as he wipes at wet eyes, “you’ll really be there for him too, Sensei?”

The man doesn’t look over, simply drops his gaze to his lap, “Heroes, and... the universe failed him,” the man admits quietly. “Hearing it from him... we failed. I know people, kids, are stuck in unfortunate situations and Deku... this isn’t a new concept, and I’m not pleased to know what he’s done, the analysis he’s given that has been used to hurt people, but... I’d rather see him admit to his mistakes and fight for redemption now then to see his face on the news, reporting yet another Quirkless suicide.”

Present Mic lets out a surprised noise thought his nose.

“Do you really think...” Present Mic’s voice wavers slightly.

“He told us himself, Hizashi,” Sensei sighs. “And I doubt that thought has never crossed your mind, huh, Midoriya? You and Deku grew up the same way, up until one specific moment not too long ago. I know life wasn’t easy for you before that.”

Suddenly feeling called out, and not wanting to admit it aloud, the teen remains silent.

Of course the thought had crossed his mind— it had been put there by others, and he was only human after all. Plus, he’d been reading in to and looking at statistics of Quirkless persons all his life, knowing he was just another statistic in the grand scheme of things, even if he’d grasped desperately at the hope of becoming a Hero until his fingers turned bone white.

He wonders if he’d still be alive if he’d never been offered One for All that day.

He hadn’t been locked on the roof like Deku was, so they’d differ there once again.

Which begs the question of what would’ve happened to him.

Probably nothing good, he realizes with a wince.

“I’m just...” Present Mic mumbles, rubbing at his eyes behind his glasses, “I’m trying to wrap my head around this. I... wow, this is a lot to take in. I mean... you’ve definitely got a point, Sho. I just... those statistics... We knew Deku was supposedly Quirkless but... I never really thought, ya’know?”

“You know the Quirkless statistics just as well as I do, Hizashi.” Sensei cards his fingers through his own hair, “it’s a big problem that’s so easily overlooked. We failed him. As Heroes, as a society, as the ones trying to make a difference. This isn’t going to go away— discrimination isn’t going to go away. How many others are there? How many kids out there are like Deku? Like Midoriya?”

Present Mic bows his head, now looking a tad bit ashamed.

“He’ll also...” the underground Hero hesitates, “...if Nezu wins and gets to try to rehabilitate Deku, he’ll become the ward of the school. He’ll need someone to look after him. He’ll need a guardian. He’s still a child and his mother... that’s a whole different can of worms.”

“Shota,” Present Mic’s tone is dry, eyes narrowed. “Please tell me you’re not thinking of— tell me that you don’t want to take Deku on as a ward. You want to have him here? In our dorms, our apartment? With your students?”

“I’m not scared of Deku,” the dark-haired man mutters. “He’s a kid, Hizashi, a kid who’s been in a shitty situation, who’s been coerced by Shigaraki and other villains. Deku didn’t even know what kind of situation he was really in working with them. You should’ve... you didn’t see his face, Hizashi. And he’s comfortable with me. He’s going to have a lot of enemies, but I’m not going to be one of them and I... I hope you won’t either.”

“He tried to kill you, Shota.”

“He offered analysis,” the man corrects sharply. “He didn’t lay a hand on me. He didn’t use a Quirk. He didn’t touch my students, or Thirteen. He might’ve shown up on the wrong side of things, but he played such a miniscule part in that attack. And...”

The underground Hero swallows uncertainly, glancing away from his husband as he continues, “...and Deku was right about his analysis. He could’ve done far worse, Hizashi. I saw the written analysis he did of me at the police station. He knew more than he offered. If he’d actually delivered that full analysis to Shigaraki that day, I wouldn’t have survived. He might've been on the wrong side of things but he chose to save my life instead of condemn me.”

Present Mic draws in a shaky breath, head bowing in a very slow nod.

“Do I at least get to meet the kid before you bring him home?”

“I doubt Deku will be going anywhere anytime soon,” Sensei shrugs, looking a little upset about the statement. “This is going to take time. There will be time to ease everyone into this before he gets here.”

Izuku shrinks into himself a little bit at the thought of Deku sitting in a holding cell at the police station. It’s better than prison he knows, but it’s still an awful thought.

He knows he can’t expect Deku to be released after a quick conversation like Izuku had been.

Deku was the one causing trouble— even if not to the extent they believed. He’s going to be processed, held, and then monitored, and if he is allowed to participate in this new program they’re brewing up, because that’s not guaranteed, he’s going to have to be on his best behavior.

Still, Izuku remembers Deku’s face on that rooftop. Remembers the fear he’d seen etched into the other’s face as he told Izuku how stuck he was. Deku really hadn’t had a lot of options—either turning himself in and getting arrested or being stuck in Shigaraki’s hands.

Izuku sucks in an unsteady breath, bowing his head.

“Will you... keep an eye on him Sensei?” Izuku finds himself asking slowly. He feels the man’s gaze settle on him, but refuses to look up as he squeezes his eyes shut. “He’s... scared. This is scary. And he... he does trust you; I think.”

“I’ll try to be as involved as I can, Midoriya,” the man’s gravelly voice tells him gently. “Deku won’t be going through this alone, if that’s what you think. I can’t always be there, but I’ll try my best to be there as much as I can.”

“Thank you,” Izuku finally lets his eyes slip open, looking up at the adult with gratitude. “Deku needs someone, and I know... I know you’ll help him like you’ve helped me. Thank you for everything you’ve done for us. F-for, um, for Midoriya Izuku. Both of us.”

“Don’t thank me,” the man huffs, though his lips do curl up faintly in fondness, “this took time, and understanding. I don’t think we did the right thing at any step of the way when it came to you, and even Deku, and for that I apologize, but I’m not going to fail another Midoriya, got it, Kid?”

“Got it,” Izuku offers a small, pleased smile.

“And who knows,” the man continues in a light voice as he slumps back into the couch, “maybe Deku’ll turn out to be more like you then we think he is. You are the same person after all, right? Maybe all he needs is a stable environment and to not be used as a tool. I think this school could do with our own Midoriya Izuku, hey?”

“Awh,” Present Mic whines quietly, “I almost forgot we probably don’t get to keep you, Listener!”

“I almost forgot about that too,” Izuku admits quietly.

There’s a sting of sadness in his chest as he thinks about his friends, teachers and family back home. He wants to see them, mostly wants to hug his mom, and Sensei, and his friends and even Kacchan, even if he knows that might end up with a couple bruises.

Then that sting gets worse when he thinks about leaving these friends and teachers, and himself here.

He wants to go home, he truly, truly does, but on the other hand, he’s not entirely sure he really wants to leave everyone here behind. He’s not sure that he wants to leave the friends and help that have made this feel okay and watched over him.

He really owes Aizawa-Sensei a lot— Izuku doesn’t know what would’ve happened to him if he’d not found Sensei that night he’d arrived here, had Sensei not helped him like he had.

He knows he probably won’t get a choice (not that he’d ever be able to make that choice, he thinks, so that’s probably for the best), he’d arrived here against his will, and he doesn’t really belong here, not when this is Deku’s reality, he knows, but it still hurts his heart to think about leaving, as much as he does want to see his reality again.

He wants to go home, but this place... sorta does feel like home too, in a distantly familiar way.

A light pulse of pain breaks Izuku from his thoughts.

The teen brings a hand up to scratch at his hairline, just above where the pain flickered. It wasn’t Danger Sense. The pain is familiar, distantly, and the thought clenches uncertainly in his stomach.

“Something wrong, Kid?” Sensei asks quietly, and it’s only then Izuku realizes both teachers are looking at him.

“H-huh?” Izuku blinks owlishly.

“Your expression just went through a whole bunch of emotions,” Present Mic informs gently. “Looked like it hurt a bit too.”

“I think,” Izuku bites hard at his bottom lip, “maybe I might go home soon. I had a little pain in my head that wasn’t my Quirk and it just... I don’t know, felt different I guess.”

“Oh,” Sensei says, expression carefully blank. “I... see. You have that wallet on you still, right? Your ID card and the letter for your Aizawa that I gave you? I have a little more I’d like to add to the letter, if you don’t mind. It’ll be fast. It’s important that he gets it.”

Izuku bows his head in a nod, fishing the wallet out of his pocket. He opens the wallet and tugs out the couple sheets of paper, handing them over to Sensei.

The man bows his head and gets up off the couch, disappearing into what Izuku assumes is an office that he and Present Mic share. Izuku watches him go, a frown tugging at his lips.

“Well,” the blonde hums softly, “wanna come help me with dinner? I don’t know if you’ll just blink out of existence here or something, but I wanna spend whatever time I can with you before you’re gone, yeah? And we should send you off with a full tummy, ya’dig?”

“Okay,” Izuku smiles lightly, ignoring the steady pain in the side of his head as he pushes himself up off the ground and follows the Pro into the kitchen.

Aizawa-Sensei is gone for about ten minutes.

Izuku helps Yamada-Sensei in the kitchen, trying to ignore the constant thrum of his head. It’s light, thankfully, but it’s there. His heart feels heavy, and anxiety fills his chest.

He doesn’t remember coming here— doesn't even remember how he’d gotten here, so he wonders if he’d had any kind of headache when he’d been hit with the Quirk and sent here.

When the dark-haired Hero returns, he hands Izuku the neatly folded letter once more, and the teenager slips it back into the wallet before sliding the whole thing back into his pocket. Sensei joins him and Present Mic at the counter, the three of them all cooking together.

Izuku knows he’ll miss this.

He has gotten a lot closer to both Aizawa-Sensei and Present Mic in the time he’s been living with them, and he knows it’s not going to be like this when he’s back home. That sorta makes him sad.

They eat together; the three of them gathered around the table.

Izuku ignores the headache starting to hurt a bit more, and instead focusses on the conversation.

He’d asked about the child Deku had mentioned— the one who’s being held captive with the Yakuza. Deku hadn’t said much when they’d talked at the school, but he’d expanded on it at the police station, and Sensei doesn’t seem to mind sharing what they know with Izuku.

They hadn’t known here— the Detective, and Sensei, and even principal Nezu had all seemed surprised, shocked, when Deku had mentioned the little girl. If their realities are close to the same, Izuku assumes Sir Nighteye must be looking into the Shie Hassaikai here as well.

Izuku hazily remembers being briefed on the Yakuza group being investigated and monitored by Sir Nighteye and his agency before they’d gone on patrol that morning that Izuku had gotten hit by the Quirk that had sent him here; the Shie Hassaikai.

He knew of the Quirk erasing bullets that were whispered about, but he hadn’t known there was a child involved in the process of making them. He hadn’t known the Yakuza was using a little girl to craft their weapons, however the hell they were making that happen.

The Shie Hassaikai in his reality is also in possession of Quirk erasing bullets too, so it’s probably safe to assume the Yakuza is up to the same trouble in both realities. Both realities have a child involved and in danger.

Izuku’s stomach is uneasy as he takes a bite of rice at the thought of a child being used like that, in both this reality, as well as his own.

Izuku wonders if his Sir Nighteye knows about the little girl’s position in all this.

She hadn’t been mentioned, so he... he doesn’t think so. He knows now though, and he’ll make sure this child gets rescued, assuming she exists in his reality as well.

Izuku helps clean up dinner, the pain in his head steadily getting worse and worse as he goes. He tried not to let it bother him. Doesn’t want to admit to anything, doesn’t want it to happen, as much as he wants to go home too. He doesn’t know what he wants.

He’s washing the dishes with Aizawa-sensei when a sharp stab of pain makes him drop a glass into the sink of soap water. He’s unsure if it shatters, all noise falling on deaf ears as the pain overwhelms him.

For a second, all he can hear is the pounding of his own heart, and then he slowly comes back to awareness, hazy eyes squinting at the underground Hero who is holding him by his upper arms steadying him.

Izuku sees his mouth moving, sees it pulled downwards in a heavy frown as the teacher’s lips move, but it takes another second until the static in his head clears and he can hear the man.

“Hey. You with again us, Kid?” Sensei asks quietly, seeming to notice Izuku had slowly lost some of the tension. “We lost you for a second there. You okay?”

Izuku swallows, managing a light nod that makes his head ache, “urts, Sensei.”

“Your head?” the man’s tone has dropped, concern colouring it. Izuku whimpers as he nods miserably. “Okay. Okay, come with me. Why don’t you lie down on the couch, huh? I’m sorry it hurts.”

Izuku lets himself be guided, trusting the man entirely when there’s a light push to his shoulder. He plops down like he’s suddenly gone boneless and curls into an almost fetal position as the pain pulses.

He feels something wet over his forehead and eyes, and then there’s light pressure too.

“Shh,” that’s Present Mic, Izuku thinks, “it’s just a damp cloth, Listener. Sometimes it helps, ya’dig?”

Izuku swallows again, trying to swallow down the pain, squeezing his eyes shut under the cloth.

The coolness helps... well, maybe. He can’t really tell, but the cloth blocking out the light around him does ease the pain a bit. It still hurts a lot, far more than Danger Sense, or even the migraine he’d had when he’d gotten here.

“You’re okay,” Izuku hears Sensei’s soft voice, and then there’s a pressure on his ankle, like a hand has wrapped around it, giving light squeezes. “Try not to fight it. I know it hurts, but you need to go home now, Midoriya. You don’t belong here. I’ll be right here with you, okay?”

Izuku thinks he loses consciousness just after that, comforted by one of the few people he trusts wholeheartedly. He doesn’t fight the feeling anymore.

Monday, Alternate Reality

Shota sits with the teenager for a little over three hours after the kid nearly topples over in their kitchen due to pain. He’d known it was coming— not exactly sure what to expect but had known their time with the green-haired Hero student was coming to an end.

That he’d be going home to the reality he belonged in.

The underground Hero’s heart is in his chest as he’d watched the kid waver at the sink, the glass shattering in the sink ringing in his ears but forgotten as he’d lunged to grab a hold of the kid who was tipping sideways, almost falling over.

He hates seeing them hurt and not being able to help.

He hates feeling useless, but there’s nothing he can do for the boy besides try to ease the pain.

Shota sits by Midoriya, hand on the teenager’s ankle, gaze never straying from the boy. If he’s going back to the reality he came from, Shota doesn’t want him to be alone when it happens.

Hizashi comes and goes, shooting the kid soft, worried looks and Shota knowing frowns, with eyes dulled with sadness. The blonde comes into the room every so often to refresh the cloth over the boy’s head, which had seemed to ease Midoriya’s pain, even if just slightly.

Shota watches Midoriya, rubs gently at the boy’s shin and ankle, even if the student is no longer conscious, just so Midoriya knows he’s there, that he’s not alone.

It’s well into the evening. He’d have already started his patrol if he hadn’t been on leave.

The child hardly stirs, hardly moves until... until he’s gone.

He leaves as Shota assumes he’d arrived.

There one second and gone the next. Shota had only blinked— it had happened just that fast. Midoriya had been there, and then he’d blinked, and then the teenager was gone.

The universe righting itself in some morbid way that breaks his heart.

Shota’s hand hovers over nothing, where the child’s shin had been just a moment earlier, and the cloth that had been on the teen’s head is nowhere to be seen. He doesn’t see the wallet either, which is good, Shota thinks distantly.

Shota forces his eyes shut, drawing in a shaky breath as he drops his hands to his lap.

The kid is gone.

It’s a good thing, honestly, but Shota’s heart aches.

He’ll never see Midoriya again.

Never that specific Midoriya. The Heroics kid who’d done what Shota couldn’t do; who’d inspired each and every student in Shota’s class. Who brightened every room he walked into, and was so kind, and helpful, and thoughtful, and clever— a destined Hero.

It shouldn’t feel like the kid had just died, but it does.

His stomach curls with grief, and he knows Midoriya is okay, will be okay, but Shota will never see him again. This is a good thing, but he can’t seem to get himself to believe that as he sits alone.

He knows the kid is back where he belongs, Shota hopes to God that’s where he is, at least. But it still hurts far more than he thought it was going to, now that he’s staring at the spot the teenager had been.

He’s gone.

Shota feels someone sit beside him, and then there’s an arm over his shoulder, tugging him into someone’s side. It’s Hizashi. Who else could it be? Shota takes a second to process the sudden proximity before turning into his husband’s embrace, burying his face in Hizashi’s shoulder.

The man shushes him gently, and then there’s a hand in his hair, carding carefully through his dark locks. Hizashi’s voice is watery, trying to hold it together, and Shota distantly realizes his own eyes are teary too.

He hardly ever cries.

“I’m so sorry, honey,” Hizashi mumbles. “I’ll miss the little Listener too.”

Monday, Reality

One second, Shota had been asleep, and the next, the next there are hands on him, shaking him roughly. He stirs from his sleep, blindly swatting the persistent hands.

“Look, I know you’re tired, Shota,” comes his husband’s nearly frantic voice, “but I really need you to wake up.”

“Hizashi,” Shota groans out, reaching up to rub at tired eyes as the hand on him leave his body. He pushes himself up onto his elbows, slivering his eyes open to take in his husband, “what? What happened?”

Hizashi’s hand is on him again, tugging at his wrist and all but pulling him out of bed, “I need you to come see something and verify that I’m not crazy, Shota.”

“What?” Shota manages out, tired eyes flicking to the bedside table where the alarm clock sits. He’s only been asleep for a couple hours— Hizashi would’ve just gotten out of bed to get ready for patrol. What the hell was so pressing that he needed to wake Shota up.

Shota had hardly been sleeping since his student disappeared, or, as they’d theorized, was sent to an alternate reality. No one had really rested since the kid went AWOL during that fight.

Yagi and Tsukauchi had barely left the police station, and Sir Nighteye had his agency working around the clock, looking into the Quirk, and out searching for the kid in case they were wrong, and he was somewhere out there.

No one wants to rest when one of your own is missing, even if Midoriya was just a brand-new intern. He was still on an internship contract with Nighteye Agency.

Togata had taken Midoriya’s disappearance the hardest, Shota thinks. The third year had somehow gotten it into his head that it was his fault, that they hadn’t stuck together and now the kid was missing.

Togata had to physically be benched by Sir Nighteye himself, telling the kid to take a rest. Shota’s not sure he’d ever seen Togata look as crestfallen as when the kid as left the office with his shoulders hunched up to his ears.

And even the Shie Hassaikai raid had been pushed back while the search for the missing teenager went on. Sasaki still had his surveillance going on, and even if they didn’t raid right away, they were getting more information about their targets, which was always useful in high priority raids.

Shota himself had been dedication the time that wasn’t spent in meetings, explaining the situation to Midoriya-san, or breaking the news to the students, out patrolling his routes in hopes of finding the kid somewhere, even if he really did believe that Ame had unintentionally sent the kid somewhere.

They’d spent so much time trying to figure out what to do— half-baked plans of trying to send someone to where Midoriya ended up, using Ame Quirk. That one had been quickly scrapped, despite Shota’s insistence that he’d be the test subject if it meant finding Midoriya wherever he was.

They spent hours upon hours at Nighteye agency; searching for Quirks that might be able to help find the kid, or even just see where he was and what he was going through.

Shota had found himself wishing Sir Nighteye’s Quirk wasn’t touch-based. That they could’ve handed the man something of Midoriya’s and had him be able to see what the kid was going, like a sniffer dog following the trail of a missing child.

And when he wasn’t busy with his remaining students, working with the other about trying to locate the kid and drinking excessive amounts of coffee, he’d found it hard to let himself relax enough to actually sleep, which wasn’t something he struggled with very often.

Shota stumbles after Hizashi, palming at one eye as he’s tugged along.

Hizashi pauses in the doorway that sees into their living room, pausing like he’s afraid to move any further. Shota half expects his husband to point out a spider, or an insect of some sort to be dealt with, but Hizashi says not a thing.

“Hizashi,” the dark-haired man sighs tiredly, “what—”

And then he sees it.

What’s out of place in their apartment.

What had his husband acting so spooked.

Shota’s mouth goes dry, and he suddenly feels completely awake as he stares, wide-eyed, at the disturbance in their home.

“—what the fuck?”

“Oh, thank God you see him too,” Hizashi cries out, still not moving any closer, “I was so sure I was going crazy, Shota. I thought I was dreaming, or that I missed the Listener so much I imagined him or something. I thought I was hallucinating!”

Shota blinks owlishly, unable to draw his gaze away from the couch.

The couch where the very teenager who’d been missing for an entire week, was curled up in a little ball, asleep. The teen doesn’t move— besides the steady breathes Shota sees his chest rising and falling with. There’s a cloth on the teen’s forehead, over his eyes, but Shota sees the green curls.

There is only one kid he’s ever seen who has as vibrant green hair as what he’s looking at now. There’s literally no question about it— that's Midoriya Izuku, who’d been missing, asleep on their couch. In their apartment. Their locked apartment.

Shota himself hesitates for a second longer before inching into the room. Hizashi trails after him, keeping a step behind him. They pause beside the couch, each just looking at the teenager hesitantly. Neither wants to make the first move, but as far as they know, the kid could be an illusion, or a figment of their imagination.

Unlikely, but Shota’s starting to realize anything is possible.

Shota pinches the edge of the cloth between his fingers and lifts the corner up to expose Midoriya’s face, it’s no question, but a small part of him needs to see the teenager in his entirety to believe this.

His curls are slightly damp when the cloth is lifted away.

Shota’s eyes track over his shut eyes, and his nose, and the freckles decorating his face.

It really is the kid.

Where the hell had Midoriya been? How the hell did he get here?

“Midoriya?” Shota finally forces himself to say, taking the cloth away entirely. The teenager stirs as he’s disturbed, squirming faintly before his expression twists in pain; a familiar sight for Shota to see on Midoriya’s face, as much as he loathes for that to be the truth.

“Se’sei’,” is the whimpered response as the teen turns faintly to bury his face in the couch cushions. The kid groans in pain, withering as he cups his hands to his head.

“Midoriya,” Shota repeats again, unsure, “are you hurt?”

“He’ache,” the teen whispers into the couch, “s’rry, hurts.”

“A headache?” the man repeats, one eyebrow arching in concern, “do you know where you are, Midoriya? Do you remember what happened?”

The teenager mumbles something into the couch that Shota can’t make out no matter how hard he strains his ears to hear it, “wanna try that again, Kid? With actual words?”

Midoriya is still for a second before he’s turning over, eyes squeezed shut.

He unfurls slightly, still not opening his eyes as his face twists harder in pain, “we were washin’ dishes. My head started to hurt and I... I broke something? A cup, maybe? Sorry. You brought me to the couch, and Yamada-Sensei put a cloth on my head... t’s a headache, not brain damage, Sensei. How long was I asleep? Still really h-hurts.”

“...what?” Shota finds himself saying. “Midoriya, you’ve been missing for nearly a week.”

Not to mention the fact that Shota has never washed dishes with a student, has never had a student up in his apartment, that Hizashi hadn’t ever tended to the students like that, or the fact that Midoriya has been missing for a week.

Despite the obvious pain, the teenager shoots up.

Shota almost feels overwhelmed as Midoriya’s bright green eyes shoot right to him, taking him in, before they tear up. The boy draws in a stuttery breath, and his bottom lip wobbles as he stares at Shota.

“Sensei?” the kid’s tone is shaky, almost scared. “Is it really you? Am I... Am I back?”

“Midoriya,” Shota replied slowly, because he doesn’t know what else to say. “I don’t really know what that means, Problem Child.”

The kid moves before Shota can even blink— suddenly his arms are full of a sobbing teenager. The kid’s knees are on the armrest of the couch, and his arms are around Shota’s shoulders, face buried in the crook of his neck.

Shota stills, unsure, before he slowly settles his arms around the boy and returns the hug.

He’s so far out of his depth.

“I was so scared,” the boy warbles out, “everything was the same, but it was different. I got arrested, an’ everyone hated me because the me there did some bad things, and he's kinda villain, but I didn’t do anything bad, Sensei, but they still were still so scared of me. I was always so scared, even with you around. I wanted to come home...”

“Midoriya,” Shota says again, a bit softer, “where were you? What happened?”

He has half a mind to think Midoriya was delirious.

He’s talking, sure, but he’s talking what sounds like nonsense.

“An alternate reality,” the teen sniffles clutching at Shota just a bit tighter, “where everything was the same, but I was a villain and not a Hero. I didn't know what to do, and it was terrifying. I don't know what I would've done if you hadn't helped me. I-I never want to-to feel like that again, Sensei.”

“What?” Shota blinks, drawing away from the teenager to hold him at arm’s length.

He takes a second, while he can actually look at the teen, to take him in.

He looks tired, and there’s still that crinkle of pain in his expression that must be because of the headache he mentioned when he woke up. Further down, Shota spots a bandage on the kid’s hand, which makes his stomach twist unpleasantly.

Midoriya was hurt.

He’d gone somewhere and he’d gotten hurt.

What was the extent of it?

He tries to ground the kid by tightening his hold a bit, confusion and bewilderment pushed aside to focus on his student, “Midoriya, hey, look at me for a second, alright?”

Slowly, teary eyes lift to him. It takes Shota a second to find his voice again now that he’s staring at his missing student’s face. He draws in a shaky breath, fingers tensing on the boy’s arms quickly before loosening once again, “are you okay? Were you hurt anywhere else?”

Midoriya shakes his head, bowing his chin down as he sniffles, “j-just the migraine, Sensei. But... but it’s okay, it happened there too, just, not as fast. It really hurts. I think... I really need to sleep still, Sensei...”

“Okay,” the man breathes out, unsure what else there is to say. He’s not going to force the kid to endure pain by answering his questions, even if he really wants some answers. “Okay, Kid. You can sleep. Sleep if you need to, but we’re going to be talking when you wake up. You have a lot of people to answer to.”

Midoriya nods against Shota’s shoulder before sinking out of his arms, flopping back down onto the couch and curling into himself just as he had been.

He squeezes his eyes shut, and Shota winces at the thought of having a migraine. They’re not fun. And this one must really be something because he's found that Midoriya has a frighteningly high pain tolerance.

“Would you like me to refresh that cloth for you, Listener?” Hizashi asks softly, as to not disturb the sick kid. “Did it help you, ah, uh, before you came back? Where... wherever you were?”

Midoriya still winces slightly at the sound, drawing in an unsteady breath.

The teen seems to take a second to calm the headache before he nods faintly, throwing an arm over his eyes to block out the light. The teen curls into himself even more, and Shota has half a mind to contact Recovery Girl.

He doesn’t just yet, if the kid wants to sleep, Shota will let him sleep for a little bit. He did just, theoretically, jump between realities, right? There’s bound to be repercussions of that.

Hizashi shoots Shota a look before taking the cloth from Shota’s hand, he hadn’t even realized he was still holding it, as he disappears behind them and into the kitchen. Shota faintly hears the faucet running.

There’s just one moment of silence between the teacher and student.

“I missed you, Sensei,” Midoriya whispers, face still pinched in pain and eyes hidden behind his arm. “You helped me so much, or... or he did, but I still missed you, and my classmates and my All Might... I-I never want to do that again...”

“Okay,” Shota replies awkwardly. He doesn’t understand enough to know what the kid means. “Hopefully you never have to, alright? You’re home now. You’re going to be alright. We’ll figure everything out later, okay?”

Midoriya offers a watery smile, and Shota knows, if the boy’s eyes were visible, he’d be seeing tears welling too. His heart swells in relief at the thought. He never thought he’d miss Midoriya’s tears.

Hizashi returns, and after some prompting, the kid lets his arm fall from his face so the blonde can position the cloth back over his eyes and forehead, just like when they’d found the boy. Hizashi talks quietly to the kid as he settles the cloth, moving so gently and carefully.

When Hizashi stands back to his full height, Shota blinks in surprise when he spots a second, dry cloth in the man’s hand. It’s an identical one to the one currently set on Midoriya’s head.

They only one have one of that specific cloth, and it's not exactly a common pattern. Nemuri had given it to them as a gag gift when they'd moved in together, as a house warming gift. It's a strange cloth with cats with mustaches on it, and Shota is secretly a little fond of it.

Shota’s brain stalls at the fact.

Where... where had Midoriya gotten that cloth if it wasn’t from their kitchen?

Shota glares hard at the offending fabric Hizashi is holding out between them, only drawing his gaze away when movement catches his attention out of the corner of his eye. “Midoriya? What’s wrong?”

Midoriya is squirming, one hand slipped into the pocket of the pants he’s wearing, while the other is flat on the cloth, keeping it from moving at all or slipping off his face.

“I... forgot,” Midoriya mutters tiredly as he fights against his own pocket.

Before either he or Hizashi can say anything, the teenager pulls his hand free of his pocket, and there, clutched between his fingers, is a wallet. One Shota has never seen before.

It’s not Midoriya’s wallet, he’s seen that before.

The teen throws his hand, wallet and all, over the edge of the couch, and just lets it hang there. Like he’s waiting for Shota, or Hizashi to grab it from him. Neither of them moves.

“t’s for you, Se’sei,” Midoriya continues when he realizes no one is going to just take a random wallet from him. He waves his hand thoughtlessly behind himself, as if trying to tempt them. “From Sensei. Er, um, other Sensei. Alternate Sensei. Important documents. That’s... that’s what he said. In the wallet.”

Shota takes the wallet slowly, and instantly Midoriya withdraws his hand and curls it into his chest with his other hand. The kid shifts, and... Shota thinks maybe he’s passed out again.

He’s not surprised, the kid doesn’t really appear to be all there at the moment. Pain is clearly clouding his head, and there's a good chance the kid is also trying to orient himself now that he's back in the reality he belongs in once again.

Maybe after he’s slept a bit more he’ll be a little more coherent.

Hizashi crowds into Shota’s space as the man flips the wallet open. The first thing he sees is the kid’s student ID. That clears up where that piece of identification went. The second, tucked into the gap where the banknotes are supposed to be, is folded up wad of paper.

Shota’s nose scrunches up as he pulls out the note, handing the wallet to Hizashi to hold onto.

Aizawa Shota

That’s his writing, but he sure as hell didn’t write that. He doesn’t even know how Midoriya would’ve gotten his hands on something like this. What even is this?

“Shota,” Shota lifts his gaze from the papers, attention flicking to his frowning, uncertain husband, “I need to go on patrol, do you want me to stay here with you and the Listener?”

“No,” Shota shakes his head, “go on patrol. I’ll keep an eye on the reality jumper. It doesn’t look like he’s going anywhere anytime soon. I’ll call you if I need you for whatever reason.”

His husband offers a gentle, yet sympathetic smile as he nods.

It’s only a couple minutes later that Shota finds himself alone in their apartment— well, with Midoriya, at least. Shota is perched on the edge of the couch beside the sleeping teenager, keeping an eye on him. He truthfully doesn’t think he’d even be able to leave the kid right now.

He’s still processing everything and actually seeing Midoriya makes that easier. He’s back now. He’s relatively safe. The kid is okay, maybe not mentally, completely, but physically. Mostly, at least.

Shota stares down at the folded papers clutched between his fingers, eyeing the handwriting for any signs of forgery, but he spots nothing. It looks as if he could’ve written his name himself, and he’ll admit his handwriting isn’t the easiest to read or forge.

He glances sideways at the kid next to him, considering the sleeping form that had insistently searched out and made sure Shota got this letter, even in pain, before looking back at the papers and unfolding them slowly.

Aizawa Shota,

This is something I never expected to be writing. A letter to myself. Illogical. But there’s no other way I could think of to reach an alternate version of myself from an entirely different reality that, before meeting your student, I never thought could exist. I wanted you to know that I’m the one who’s been watching over your student while he’s been stuck here. I don’t know about you, but if I was in your shoes, I’d be comforted to know someone was looking out for my kid when I couldn’t be.

Now, assuming we’re the same person, which, Midoriya has assured me on multiple occasions, we are, I’m going to skip the remainder of the pleasantries of this letter.

From where I’m standing, your teaching is subpar.

What have you been doing? Have you even been watching your class at all? Have you not been watching the interactions between them, keeping tabs on the relationships forming, whether negative or positive? Keeping an eye out for harmful interactions between them, because even where I am, I can see there are relationships as such in your class. Part of your job is to make sure the students are safe, especially within the school. Within your classroom, under your watch.

Have you been doing that?

Have you even noticed the riff between Midoriya and Bakugou?

You keep partnering them up. You’re hurting both of them by doing so. I don’t give a shit if it’ll help them grow, if you’re trying to strengthen them by having them work with people they don’t particularly like, just know that you’re forcing a victim to work coherently with their bully.

You might not be aware, but Bakugou Katsuki spent his childhood bullying Midoriya. Bakugou Katsuki harmed, physically and mentally, tormented and even suicide-baited the child you’re forcing to work with him.

That’s bullshit.

I don’t care if Midoriya never told you anything; you should have been able to see the tension between them. You’re a teacher. You work with kids. That’s what you do. And not even that, you’re a Pro Hero. I know you have the ability to pick up on unease, but you ignored it. You believed the rivalry schtick that Midoriya tried to feed to me, without even questioning how intense it appeared to be.

I know how my Bakugou acts, and even within a second of the two of them being in the same room, I could sense there was something amiss. You should have looked closer. You should have asked questions— gotten to the bottom of any unsightly interactions you see in your classroom between students. Especially students who came from the same middle school and grew up together.

But you didn’t, and one of your students suffered because of that.

You’re slacking.

Your inattention has forced Midoriya into a toxic environment. Pairing the two up and ignoring Bakugou’s less than ideal personality has aided in the harmful relationship they have. You’ve turned a blind eye to his obvious poor attitude for too long. I beg you to simply study how the two interact if you don’t believe me. I know the truth; I got the story from both of them, and despite our different realities, this is something that has not changed.

I have punished my Bakugou for his wrongdoings. I will not stand for bullying within my classroom, whether current or prior. The Bakugou that I teach sees he is wrong and is taking steps to better himself and his attitude.

Your student will not make it as a Hero if he never sees what he’s done is wrong. If he’s never punished or faces consequences for his actions that have harmed people.

I didn’t have Midoriya in my class to have Bakugou lash out at, there was no way for me to truly see the red flags in Bakugou’s personality until I saw him with Midoriya. You have. I never would’ve seen the hostility towards Midoriya if your student never ended up here. The kid told me you rescued him from Bakugou during the Quirk Apprehension test on the first day of school. Stop and consider the implications of that interaction in particular.

Your lack of intervention is teaching them that it’s alright— that it doesn’t matter and that your past doesn’t deserve consequences. Bakugou made someone’s life hell; he tormented someone for the better part of his life, and he got away with it. He won’t learn from that. Do you know what he did learn? He learned that he could get away with it. That how he acted, what he said and did, was okay because he was never told differently. That his actions weren’t completely disgusting.

And Midoriya thinks it’s normal, defends Bakugou and doesn’t bother mentioning it.

You need to figure your shit out and do something about that before one of them gets hurt. Before Bakugou does something stupid and gets himself or someone else hurt. He is a good kid, but you need to correct him before it’s too late. You’re a smart man, so stop acting so stupid.

Now, let's talk about Midoriya.

What do you really know about the kid? How about the plethora of scars adorning the child’s arms? The lack of Quirk control he’d started the year off with, how he’d broken so many limbs with a Quirk he’s had for years? Why Bakugou would discriminate against the kid when he has such a strong Quirk?

If you think you know Midoriya, I’d like to personally tell you that you’re sorely mistaken.

Midoriya is a late bloomer.

How late you might be wondering? He manifested his Quirk on the day of the entrance exam.

What you saw of the boy on that first day, when he apparently tried his hand at taking out the zero-pointer for whatever reason, was the absolute first time the child had ever used his Quirk.

You’re not entirely at fault for this, of course. That would be illogical. Midoriya should’ve told you. But you should’ve asked more questions. You should’ve asked why his control was so bad. Why he could hardly handle his own Quirk. You are a teacher, his teacher, and he was hurting himself using his own Quirk. You should have investigated. You should have pulled him aside and asked. He might have told you. He told me, after all.

You’ve let him suffer alone. And I can’t argue that he hasn’t made progress by himself, he’s strong and he will be a good Hero when the time comes, but have you considered how strong he’d be if you’d offered more aid? I’m guilty of letting the students figure things out on their own as well, it is a good lesson and helps them learn independently, but I think we should both learn from this.

We’ve relied too much on self-teaching. They are still students, and they need guidance. We both need to start being more involved in their learning. I will learn from this and adjust how I teach appropriately, and I hope you will as well. They deserve that.

We're supposed to be the teachers. We are the adults in this situation.

You are supposed to watch over him and help him grow into a Hero. You’re supposed to keep him safe, not just on the field, or during an attack, but during school too. In a classroom setting.

You haven’t bothered to ask questions.

You haven’t bothered to help him.

How have I, the Aizawa who’s known him for just a couple days, gotten more information out of the kid than you, the Aizawa who’s had the kid in his class for months? You’re slacking. Your inattentiveness will hurt people. It already has hurt Midoriya.

I have half a mind to just let you flounder and figure everything out on your own, seems to me that you need a lesson just as much as the students, but in doing so, Midoriya would continue to suffer under your care. That’s unacceptable.

I’m aware that you won’t have the same opportunity to really see where things have gone wrong. I have the luxury of looking into the disarray that is Midoriya Izuku’s school career. I am simply an uninvolved party that knows how you think and is able to see things from an angle you likely never will.

You have failed.

You failed that child.

This is just criticism from yourself.

I want you to be better. We are the same person, and I know if you were telling me what I’m telling you now, I would want to be better. I acknowledge that you can’t see what I have, will likely never understand from my point of view, but I’m not about to let you keep failing that boy.

Midoriya has been struggling. With his Quirk, and with his relationships with his peers, mainly Bakugou, and even with some of the staff employed at Yuuei. He has the self-preservation skills of a toddler, and he’s willing to put himself at risk if it means bettering someone else.

That’s not healthy.

You need to address that.

I am not his teacher, you are. I can’t change his world for him, but you can. He trusts you, even after you’ve been such an asshole to him. Get your head out of your ass and start being the teacher they need. You can’t expect them to become decent Heroes alone.

Also, if you’ve noticed the injury on his hand, I apologize for sending him back hurt, but the idiot taunted Todoroki into using his fire side and got the repercussions of that. I’m under the impression that something similar happened at your Sports Festival?

You must be doing something right over there because your students appear to be stronger than mine, though, I don’t know if that’s you, or Midoriya’s presence in your class. Either way, they’re going to be fine Heroes come graduation. Keep them on the right track.

And speaking of that injury, there is something you need to know about, and I urge you to address it as soon as possible. I’m going to level with you, this is one of the more pressing things I’m going to be informing you of.

The kid’s terrified of the nurse’s office. I don’t know how many times you’ve sent him to Recovery Girl for an injury he got in class, but I find it unlikely that he ever actually made his way there without a chaperon. You need to get on this. Recovery Girl told him that she wouldn’t fix his injuries if they had anything to do with his Quirk. She told him she wouldn’t heal self-inflicted injuries.

That’s bullshit.

He is a child, with a new Quirk. A dangerous Quirk that he can’t help. There are going to be self-inflicted injuries, and she had absolutely no right to say that to a first-year student. I’m beyond pissed, and it didn’t even happen here.

I know you don’t know about this, but you need to fix it.

He should not be afraid of the nurse’s office. He should not be afraid of help. He shouldn’t have to question whether or not he’ll be treated if he needs medical attention. Midoriya is going to get himself hurt one of these times by not seeking help when he needs it if you don’t correct this fear.

He was burned badly in my class and didn’t even consider going to see Recovery Girl until I forced him.

She needs consequences for what she said. I don’t care how long Recovery Girl has worked at this school, she does not get to make decisions like that, or to threaten withholding medical attention from a student.

What I’m trying to get to here, is that you need to be better. You need to get your head out of your ass and stop turning a blind eye. You have not been a good teacher. From what Midoriya’s told me you’re not even close— like why the hell did you guys muzzle Bakugou on live television? There is a large margin for improvement for both of us.

Despite everything, Midoriya still trusts you; trusts you enough to find me when he needed help.

Don’t break that.

Try not to keep disappointing me.

Sincerely,

Your unimpressed counterpart, Aizawa Shota.

p.s. I’m writing this as an afterthought because I was just informed of something you need to know about. Midoriya didn’t manifest his Quirk in the traditional sense, he was given it. By All Might. I’m aware that that sounds illogical, and I wouldn’t believe it either— it's impossible— but that’s the truth. That explains the late manifestation, doesn’t it? And it explains the relationship Yagi has with the kid. You’re observant, you would’ve noticed. I noticed when it happened here, and I only know because in my reality, Yagi has the same relationship with another kid who suddenly manifested a second Quirk in his third year. Sound familiar to a certain late bloomer?

You also need to be aware that he’s going to start manifesting more Quirks. He manifested a new Quirk called Danger Sense while he was here. I don’t have the time to go into it, the kid is showing signs of returning to your reality, and I need this letter to be on his person when he goes so you smarten the hell up, but it’s vital that you’re aware. You need to help him. You need to be involved. He’s going to need you, even if he’d never ask for your help. Don’t make him ask, just be there for him.

Take care of that kid. He’s going to be a great Hero, and you’re lucky to have him as he is.

Good luck.

Shota stares down at the letter in his hands, the edges, where his fingers are tight on the paper, are wrinkled and creased. Shota wants to believe this is all fake, maybe it’s a joke of some sort because what the actual fuck had he just read? But he knows Midoriya had gone to another reality. And that... that is his signature at the bottom of the page, no obvious sign of forgery.

Not that he thinks Midoriya would ever forge his signature.

The kid seems smart, and like he values living.

So that means...

That means this is all true. Everything. All of it.

He had unintentionally fucked up, hadn’t he? Holy shit.

Shota’s gaze flicks over to where Midoriya is still passed out, where he’ll likely remain that way for quite a while if his lack of stirring is anything to go off.

Great, that gives Shota time to make some calls; and there are a lot he needs to make after reading that letter. There’s so much he needs to do, so much he needs to fix.

His alternate self is right.

Shota shoots the kid one last look before stands slowly. He grabs the cloth off the kid’s head, unsure how to feel about the fact that Midoriya hardly even stirs, even when disturbed by the cloth both leaving and returning to his head, and heads to the kitchen to re-damp the cloth.

Only when Midoriya is tucked under a throw blanket, and has the cloth settled back over his forehead and eyes does Shota head to his and Hizashi’s office, his phone and the letter Midoriya had given him in his hands. He leaves the door ajar enough to see the kid curled into a ball on his couch and takes comfort in the fact that Midoriya is back, right there with him.

Shota plops into the office chair with a heavy sigh, glaring daggers at the letter now on the desktop that makes him feel like a piece of shit teacher. He deserves it, he knows, but that doesn’t stop the guilt and shame pooling in his stomach.

This is definitely going to take some time.