Chapter Text
Izuku plays with the ring on his finger. Aside from his watch, which has a multitude of functionalities aside from just telling the time, Izuku has never been a jewelry guy. The ring on his finger is distracting, but he can’t take it off.
It took a full week of negotiating with the Commission to come to a conclusion. The compromise of dropping the security detail was this tracking device, thankfully monitored via Yaoyorozu’s agency. The information does make its way to the hero commission in the end, but the leeway was hard fought for. And to put the cherry on top, this is just until they can catch the original kidnappers, because now there is a definite (read: dangle Izuku out in the wild like a treat) plan with an end goal of Izuku’s true freedom.
Izuku’s apartment feels too big without the intrusion of Hitoshi or Tamaki. And when Todoroki has to go into work early, the commute to work is lonely. Izuku thought he would enjoy the slide back into solitude, but in reality, it has left him feeling bored.
“I don’t like the part where you are willingly being bait,” Shuzenji says once Izuku updates her on everything. (Izuku continues to make it to UA unscathed and isn’t that nice, more confirmation that Izuku didn’t even need the watch in the first place.) “But I understand if that’s what needs to be done. If you get hurt, I’m not healing you, okay?”
Izuku laughs. He’s not going to promise her that he won’t get hurt because that’s not something he knows he will be able to follow through on. “I’ll try my best.”
“So when do you want me to clear you? You know there’s no formal paperwork or anything, just my word. If you’re not ready, I can say that you need another few weeks.”
“I want to go back,” Izuku says. “Sooner rather than later.”
“I’m hearing a but there.”
“But, I don’t want to go back and then just repeat the same cycle again, where I work way too much and then have to compensate and then work even more and run myself ragged. The only reason I was kidnapped in the first place was because I was so tired I was out of it.”
Shuzenji is quiet for a moment. Then she tsks under her breath, stands a bit straighter, and says, “Okay, then I’ll have you work here once or twice a week, and you only have to come in when you feel like it. Having you around has been nice, Izuku. Gives my old bones some rest. And if it’s a fixed point in your schedule, then the heroes will learn to adapt without you on call. They’ve done well for themselves this far.”
Izuku bites on his lip and fiddles with his ring. He doesn’t know what the solution is— he doubts there is even a singular fix-it-all to the multitude of his issues. But Shuzenji is offering something that might work, or at least is worth trying in the short run. “I’ll think about it. Thank you. I just know that I can’t go back to the way things were.”
“You can always switch full time to teaching,” Shuzenji offers. “Teenagers are a different beast, but the majority of them don’t have a stick up their ass quite yet. And the ones that do, well, they’re pliable. And you’ll have time for hobbies.”
Izuku shakes his head and laughs. He knows that he’s never going to stop being out on the field, and the idea of pulling the double, triple job-type of work that he knows some of the UA teachers do, sounds like the perfect recipe to fuck him up again.
“You’re still the top healer we have. You are going to be for a very, very long time,” Shuzenji continues. “And I will make sure that it’s going to be a very, very long time. I’ll officially clear you at the end of the week.”
It’s not a fully fledged plan, but that’s not something that Izuku needs at the moment. What he needs are his next immediate steps and he has that: nab the kidnappers and have a lighter workload. Izuku’s hopeful that whatever is coming next, he’ll be prepared for it.
Their last patient of the day is Todoroki, speared in the hand by one of his students whose quirk is acting up. He comes in with the student, who is so upset that she can’t stop crying. Izuku is so glad he never has to go through puberty again. The hormonal mood swings were one thing, the hormonal quirk flare ups were a nightmare.
Shuzenji removes the spike from Todoroki’s hand with practiced ease. Luckily, for both Todoroki and the student, the piece comes out in one go, leaving a gaping, cauterized hole in Todoroki’s hand. The student continues to cry, repeating her apologies again and again.
“It’s not your fault,” Todoroki says for the fifth time. “With the anesthetic, it doesn’t even hurt anymore.”
“And it’s going to all healed very soon, like it never even happened,” Shuzenji says with a wink. “Kailo, do you want to take a go at it?”
Izuku can feel the energy already pooling in his fingertips, swarming and buzzing and warm. Oh it feels so good, like coming home to a warm apartment after a brutally cold day. “I’m ready whenever you are, Todoroki.”
“You’re going to use your quirk?” Todoroki asks. He looks between Shuzenji and Izuku for confirmation, and they both nod. He deadpans, “Wow, I don’t think I’ve experienced your quirk since I was fifteen.”
Izuku grimaces. “And let’s hope I don’t have to use it again on you after this.” Izuku reaches out and gently touches Todoroki’s hand, his quirk instantly connecting to the injury and probing for the best healing pathway. It only takes a moment for Izuku to become confident and then from there, his quirk makes easy work of it.
It’s almost too easy. Todoroki’s hand is healed in an instant— an almost blink-and-you-miss-it instant. The student goes Oh my god, that was so cool, under their breath. Izuku keeps his hand on Todoroki’s for a moment, two, feeling the heat roll off of it, feeling the smoothness of his skin. Then Izuku squeezes it and takes his hand away. The rush of endorphins comes the moment Izuku breaks contact with Todoroki’s skin. He sighs, content. Izuku feels great, not even a tad bit tired.
“Good work, Kailo,” Shuzenji says.
Izuku beams with the positive attention. This is only just wading in the shallow water, but there’s the thrill in doing good work that he’s oh-so missed. It’s been a tumultuous road, but he’s back.
There are a few things left to finish for the day— mainly paperwork that Izuku knows if he doesn’t do now, will never get done no matter how hard he tries. But it doesn’t take too long. Todoroki walks the student back to the classroom and then swings back to the infirmary so they can walk home together.
Todoroki insists that they do something to celebrate Izuku’s quirk being back in action. Todoroki buys him two scoops of ice cream— vanilla and honeycomb— and then buys two scoops for himself— both basil, which is a surprisingly good ice cream flavor. They sit on a bench outside of the store, attempting to conquer their ice cream before it can melt.
Izuku can feel his quirk thrumming just under his skin, and unlike before where it was so overwhelming that it was all Izuku could feel, all he could think about, this buzz is a comfort, a complement to the slower life he’s built up for himself these path two months.
They’re not talking, Todoroki and Izuku, but they are watching each other, light glances here and there. Todoroki catches Izuku’s eye and winks. Izuku smirks in response. Being next to Todoroki is easy. Izuku loves his other friends, he truly does, but Todoroki is a step away from the world Izuku’s been drowning in, a respite as he recovers. It helps that Todoroki has been through similar things, was so entrenched in the hero world that it was his only reality, until it wasn’t. They’re alike, in that way. The main difference is that Izuku is on the path to return.
“Can I ask you something?” Izuku asks. “And that doesn’t count as a question.”
Todoroki narrows his eyes. “Sure?”
“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to,” Izuku begins. “But what was it like after leaving UA? After not having your quirk anymore?”
“That’s two questions,” he jokes. Todoroki eats a spoonful of ice cream. “Why do you ask?”
Izuku shrugs. He doesn’t know who he is outside of his hero identity. He could talk about that with Katsuki, sure, but saying it outloud to Katsuki would make it too real. And isn’t it so embarrassing? Having all of his worth as a person wrapped up into one focal point? “I’m curious?” Izuku says. “I want to be more than just Kailo and I know you didn’t ask for it, but… you know?”
Todoroki nods and stays silent for half a minute. “What I went through and what you are going through are two very different things.”
“I know. And I’m not trying to say that they are.”
“I was really depressed until I graduated high school,” Todoroki says. “The only reason I even made it out of high school was because my family hired a bunch of tutors to basically walk me through every single exam I took. If my siblings hadn’t forced me to eat, I would have probably let myself starve. It felt like I had wasted the first fifteen years of my life— everything I knew about the world was now wrong. I was… so angry.
“I still am sometimes. Sometimes I still feel like I don’t know anything. I’ve gotten used to how I look, but my face still itches. Some mornings I wake up and my first thought is that I need to practice my quirk with my father. Sometimes the spots I was shot burn and all I can do is stay in bed and wait for the pain to pass. And I’m not even sure the pain is real. The doctors all say that there is no reason for it. It’s all in my head.”
“I’m so sorry,” Izuku says.
“Don’t be. It’s not your fault. Most of the time now, I’m totally fine. But I wasn’t fine for a while there.”
And I wasn’t fine for a while either, Izuku thinks to himself.
“The thing that has helped me the most is knowing that no matter what, I’m still Todoroki Shouto.”
“What does that mean? To be Todoroki Shouto?”
“What does it mean to be Midoriya Izuku?”
“I don’t know,” Izuku says, voice small. That’s the crux of the issue: Izuku doesn’t know who he is. He knows who Kailo is and he knows who Midoriya Izuku is in relation to Kailo, but beyond that, Izuku’s thoughts of himself are rivulets of water slipping through open hands.
“To me, Midoriya Izuku is a person that laughs at dumb jokes, is very patient with teenagers, and who likes their coffee with entirely too much sugar. He’s also a very good, very stubborn healer.” Todoroki takes another scoop of his ice cream, but by this point they’re both losing the battle against their ice cream melting. It’s more soup-y than ice cream. “The thing that’s helped me the most is realizing that no one is ever the same, year-to-year, even day-by-day. I used to not be able to eat any spicy food and now I can. I used to have a dual-quirk and now I don’t. I’m a teacher now, but maybe I won’t be in the future.
“You’re a healer but maybe you won’t be. Either way, you’ll still be Midoriya Izuku, just maybe with some more free time.”
Izuku can see the outline of what Todoroki is saying, it just doesn’t quite make sense to him. Being a healer is all Izuku has ever known, to the point where he is not even sure there is even a bit of himself left that’s not intertwined in his profession. When Izuku thinks of the future and thinks of himself as not a healer, all he feels is the rage of grief, churning like an incoming storm.
“It’s not easy, changing. Especially if it’s an unwelcome change. There’s mourning, and anger, and a bunch of other unpleasant feelings. But you get through it.”
Todoroki opens his mouth to say something when a siren cuts through the air, sharp and wailing. Quickly, the air becomes a din of chaos. Siren after siren and then a crash of metal against metal that grates against Izuku’s ears. The street halts to a standstill before exploding into chaos and Izuku can smell the smoke before he sees it rising above the buildings.
“Behind you,” Todoroki says.
Izuku looks behind him. There’s a giant villain behind him, beyond the glass wall of buildings, covered in draping, dingy fabric like a child’s imitation of a mummy. It grows and grows until it’s nearly ten stories tall. He doesn’t have his HP on him— he was going to pick it up from Maya later this week after he was officially cleared— but he doesn’t need an alert to tell him that they’re in the middle of an attack.
Izuku shoves his ice cream towards Todoroki. “I’m so sorry, but I have to go.”
“Are you cleared to be doing this kind of work?” Todoroki asks, not unkindly. “I know you used your quirk on me before but this is different.”
Izuku nods, even if it’s not technically true. “I’m cleared for quirk usage, though obviously my threshold is way smaller than before. I have to go.”
Ice cream runs down Todoroki’s hands. “Don’t put yourself at risk.”
“Unnecessary risk,” Izuku clarifies. “And I won’t.” Izuku needs to go, like a few seconds ago, but something in him feels wrong for leaving now. He has to assure Todoroki before he goes. Todoroki cares, so deeply and so truly. And not just because of what Izuku can do, but just because Izuku is Izuku.
“Promise me, Midoriya.”
Izuku cracks half a smile. “I promise. I’ll see you later?”
“I better,” Todoroki says and with that Izuku is off. He doesn’t look back, knowing that if he does, it would be even harder to keep going where he’s needed.
Izuku doesn’t even make it to the main scene before he’s already pulling people out of the wreckage. He’s out of uniform and for as popular of a healer he is, he doesn’t do sponsorships or ads. His face isn’t plastered all over the news. Luckily, the people are too grateful to get out of rubble to question what a civilian like him is doing. (Izuku’s had that before, a woman in her late fifties, absolutely refused Izuku’s help when he was out of uniform. She made him show her his healer’s badge and even then, only let him fret around her while they waited for the ambulance.) Izuku is surprised when he hears someone shouting his name, sounding chipper and enthusiastic despite the mess around them.
“KAILO!”
Izuku spins his head towards the source of the noise. His HP would be so useful here— there’s a feature that tracks all the heroes in the surrounding area, letting you know who has also responded to a call.
“Kailo!” the voice comes again and this time, Izuku is able to place it. “Over here!”
Izuku jogs over to the voice and kneels down next to Uravity. She’s cradling a civilian on her lap. His eyes are closed, but Izuku can see the rise and fall of his chest. “Please, tell me he’s okay. I think he just passed out from the stress, but I don’t know for sure.”
Izuku smiles instead of responding. He takes a quick visual scan of the man’s body, finds nothing out of the ordinary, and then presses one of his hands to the man’s bare forearm to feel his energy flow. “He’s fine, just startled. Has the med tent been set up? My HP’s dead.”
The med tent is sparse, but there is an ambulance and a handful of EMTs, as well as another hero that Izuku knows by quirk (teleportation via bodies of water) but not by name, and Mood Ring.
Uravity takes one look at the sour expression on Mood Ring’s face and takes the unconscious man off of Izuku’s shoulder to personally hand him over to the EMTs. God, Izuku is not prepared for this encounter.
“Kailo,” Mood Ring greets, their voice surprisingly not dripping in malice. It sounds lukewarm, which is the nicest it ever sounded when aimed towards Izuku. “Haven’t seen you around lately. Am I even needed here now?”
“Hello, Mood Ring. Nice to see you again.” Izuku ignores the last part entirely and orders Mood Ring and the other emergency medical personnel to start setting up a proper triage center. Out of all the healers in Japan to work with, Mood Ring has one of the worst attitudes to deal with, but at least Izuku has age-seniority over them. They’ve never outright refused any of his orders, but they still make a stink.
Quickly, Izuku is pulled into the zone. He loses himself in the work, repeating the same steps over and over again as more and more people are saved and funneled his way. Mood Ring and Izuku work in tandem, never fully healing someone unless they truly, direly need it. Luckily, it only comes that close with one person and Mood Ring is the one to heal him. Izuku holds a bucket out for them to vomit in afterwards. Healing quirks are broad, but the drawbacks always include some form of becoming sick yourself.
You didn’t need to do that, Izuku does not say. Izuku’s quirk would have made quick work of it. It’s best to hold his tongue, but even then Mood Ring always finds something in him to fault. Izuku doesn’t take it personally anymore. There’s only so many times Izuku can lose his temper at Mood Ring before realizing that Mood Ring gets a kick out of pissing him off.
“It’s time for your patrol, isn’t it?” Mood Ring says. Before Izuku can say anything, they continue, “Go, shoo. I know how you work in emergencies. Go flex your dual-license, hero boy. My quirk is shit compared to yours, but it still works just fine.”
“Sure,” Izuku says. “I don’t have my HP on me, but—“
“Yes, based on you being in your civvies, I know you are overwhelmingly unprepared for being on active duty. I do not care. If something dire happens, you’ll know. I’m not taking your personal number.” Mood Ring ends the conversation there by physically turning their back. Just in time, another hero brings along someone needing their attention.
If Izuku is being true to himself, delving deep into the hero-side of his work is more than likely going to have to take a backseat if he wants to keep himself afloat. But he’ll adjust his patterns when they aren’t in crisis. Mood Ring’s words are true: if he needs to be somewhere, he’ll know. It’s not all going to fall apart just because Izuku isn’t the one to catch the crumbling pieces. Still, this work fills him with a sense of satisfaction that just working behind the scenes doesn’t.
Izuku quickly finds his rhythm. The incident must have been over quickly, because aside from helping Uravity get someone out from underneath a car, there’s barely been anything for him to do. There’s a tingle in the back of his mind, informing him that he could still go, go, go. Izuku pushes back against it. He’s not going to burn out again— he’s not.
“Excuse me, sir? Are you okay? This area has been cordoned off. Let me help you to the first-aid station.”
Izuku turns and is met with a young EMT, her hands outstretched in the direction Izuku was already walking towards. There’s concern in the line between her eyes. Of course, Izuku isn’t wearing his uniform and he has all sorts of fluids and messes across his body. He lets out a small chuckle and reaches into his pocket to pull out one of his licenses, whichever he can find first. “Oh, no. I’m Kailo. I’m just not in uniform.”
There’s a pinch in Izuku’s neck, as if he was stung by a bee. “I know. You’ve been hard to corner, with all those heroes around you,” the EMT says, plunging a syringe into Izuku.
When Izuku comes to, he feels like he’s just rammed his head into a cement brick ten times over. The pain is blindingly numbing, until he turns his head and then it’s a straight shot of fire going from his collarbone to the center of his head. He’s alone, so no one is around to see him retch from the pain.
Izuku gingerly moves away from his own pile of sick, careful to not move his head more than he needs to. It doesn’t hurt as much to move the rest of his body, even when his limbs are bound so tightly that the rope is cutting into his skin. The rag over his eyes had already fallen to loosely wrap around his neck by the time he woke up.
It’s difficult to think clearly, like wading through viscous waters that actively push back on him. Izuku forces himself to think. If he doesn’t, he just knows he’s going to become unconscious again and that cannot happen. He needs to get out of here.
The last thing he can remember is helping Uravity with getting a person out from under a car. From there, it’s black until minutes ago. Regardless, people don’t just target Izuku just for the hell of it. He must be of some use to them, a use that he does not want to be.
Oh.
It worked. Their plan worked. Or at least it better have worked because if it’s a random group of people that have kidnapped him, then he’s going to be pissed.
There is no room in his mind for concrete thoughts, though. Izuku’s eyes are heavy and his mouth is disgusting and breathing causes his chest to move, which slightly shifts his neck and head, which makes him have to bite down on his lip to keep the painful moans from leaking out. Not for the first time, he wishes that he could use his quirk on himself.
Somehow, Izuku manages to get onto his feet. His legs and arms are still tied together, but being up is better than being down. Above him, there’s the sound of crashing and then the thud of something being hurled towards the floor. The ceiling shakes and fills with dust. Izuku finds himself on the floor again, too tired to get himself up.
There’s the sound of precise explosions that’s achingly familiar. The blaring buzz of rapidfire waves of energy. Izuku waits. He could get himself out if it came to it. He could break his wrists to get his arms free, find something sharp to get his legs out, and he could make a run for it. He’d probably pass out at least once, but he could push himself through if he really needed to. But he doesn’t need to. There’s the watch still secure on his arm sending out his location; the sounds of fighting high in the air, and Izuku knows the sounds from years and years of being right beside them. It’s going to be fine.
Izuku closes his eyes and only realizes so when he’s jolted, Katsuki’s face two inches away from his own, Katsuki’s hands on his shoulders. “Thank fuck,” he says. “What the fuck did they pump you up with? Your pupils are blown to shit.”
“I dunno,” Izuku slurs, his tongue refusing to make the correct shapes. He opens his mouth again and tries to warn Katsuki to get away, but all that comes up is another round of sick.
In bits and pieces, Izuku goes from being holed up to wherever he is to in the back of an ambulance, Hitoshi staring at him intently with a pained expression on his face, to a hospital room where he gets poked and prodded and then questioned by some official looking people that are detectives of some sorts, and then it’s the morning and the nurse is telling Izuku that he has to get up and take a walk around the floor. It all happens so suddenly, appearing to Izuku like a highlight reel of his own actions.
“Do I have to?” he whines and when his words hit his ears, he flushes with embarrassment. He sounds exactly like the type of hero he would hate to work with. He quickly apologizes and gets going. Everything aches and his head still feels jammed with cotton, but this is all okay— it’s not okay, but he’s alive and it’s hopefully all over and that is what matters.
The first few steps are the hardest. His muscles and bones resist any movement, content in their stagnation. But about halfway through the loop around the hospital floor, his body finally gets the hint that it should be moving. Izuku makes quick work of the latter half and when he gets back to his room, he rolls onto his bed in exhaustion. The nurse smiles at him and tells him that he will need to remain here for the next seven days.
“It’s been requested specifically,” she says and from its flat delivery, Izuku knows that this is an order directly from the Commission. Whether it’s a punishment or coddling— that’s anyone’s guess.
Izuku settles in.
The visitors come in waves, the hospital staff strictly enforcing the visiting limitations. Izuku’s at a hero hospital: they deal with enough heroes and their kin to not be cowed into bending the rules for a popular name and face.
“You know, I was lonely being the only one kidnapped,” Izuku jokes. Katsuki, leaning up against the wall, rolls his eyes. “It was more fun when it was a group project.”
“You are insufferable. If I were in another position, I’d fucking kidnap you too.” Katsuki is all harsh words and a fowl expressions, but since Izuku’s woken up, Katsuki’s only left to get food that doesn’t come from the hospital cafeteria and then again when he’s chased out by Izuku’s nurses at the end of the visiting hours.
“This trend of you getting kidnapped is not good for my heart,” Nejire says and she thinks this is the second time, not the third that it truly is. Whoops. “The good news is that it does seem like it will stop, thank god.”
The second day of his hospital stay, Togata and Nejire came in with the news that the people that kidnapped him were the real deal, the ones that they were after are along. A yakuza faction, Togata explained, wanting Izuku to heal one of their bosses' adult sons. The heroes didn’t manage to capture everyone, but they did get the adult son, who had been surviving on one of the yazuka’s weak healing quirk. He’d probably get better care now that he was arrested, in all honesty.
It’s anticlimactic, all of this buildup by the Commission for it to end on one random night. At least their plan of taking away the babysitters and adding in more tracking functions— so that when Izuku was kidnapped again they could pounce on his location with a full force— worked.
“Just one more meeting with the Commission and then you’re a free man,” Togata says now. Togata and Nejire sit on chairs next to Izuku’s bed. Izuku has a bigger (and more private) room than a normal hospital patient would have, but even then the space is cramped with all four of them. “How are you feeling about that?”
“Recovery Girl’s supposed to clear me at the end of the week,” Izuku says, rubbing his hands together. “I’m excited to be back.” This is not the time nor the place to lay out the inner workings of his new schedule: that will happen later, probably with Maya and Shuzenji there to make sure he actually follows through on his word.
And then they’ll probably also have to get his plan approved by the Commission as well. For not the first time, Izuku thinks that they cause more problems than they solve.
“Speaking of your new schedule,” Katsuki says. He peels himself off of the wall, grabs his phone out of his pocket, and walks closer to the bed. “Maya left you a voicemail on my phone. She said to play it out loud.” Katsuki holds his phone up, presses play, and out comes a torrent of Maya’s swears, threats, and a resignation notice that she takes back almost immediately. She finishes her rant with, “And I’m sending this to Katsuki because I know he’ll play it. Izuku, I swear to god, if you get yourself hurt one mo—“ The voicemail cuts off and Izuku can’t help himself. He laughs.
On the second to last day of his mandatory week-long stay, Todoroki shows up, slipping in between the nurses shooing out people. After saying hello, he sits on the chair next to Izuku’s hospital bed and watches Izuku.
It’s awkward, Izuku on the bed trying to make eye contact with Todoroki and Todoroki’s eyes clearly watching Izuku but flitting away from the direct contact. After a minute, Izuku settles for resting back in the bed and closing his eyes. Todoroki will talk when he wants to talk.
And a few seconds later, he does. “You said you would keep yourself safe,” Todoroki says. His arms are folded across his chest and his words aren’t petulant in any way, but Izuku can’t help but think of Todoroki as a small child, upset that he didn’t get his way. “I had to find out that you were kidnapped from the news.”
Ouch. Izuku can imagine how informing Todoroki had slipped through the cracks, the heroes laser-focused on finding Izuku, no one bothering to think that his newly-made non-hero friend would like to know what’s going on. Izuku gave him his ice cream, told him he’d come back, and then never did.
“I’m sorry,” Izuku says, not sure what else there is to say.
“It’s not your fault,” Todoroki responds. He frowns. “It’s not like you’re asking for trouble. It’s a hazard of the job— I know. I just—“ He stops and Izuku can see him trying to find the words he is looking for and coming up short.
Izuku sits up. “I didn’t mean to scare you. I’ll have Maya put you on my secondary contact list, so if anything does happen, you’ll know.”
Todoroki keeps frowning, but he does nod. “Thank you. I don’t want to be like the others, thinking that you need to be handled with care, but it’s scary not knowing if you’re okay.”
“Of course. I promise,” Izuku says, meaning it clear and true. Todoroki isn’t asking this because he thinks Izuku is weak. He’s asking because he wants Izuku to always come back. It makes a difference. And because they’re already talking, already coasting their way to serious conversations, Izuku blurts out a question he’s been wanting to ask ever since Todoroki first popped back into his life: "Todoroki, do you ever still want to be a hero?”
Todoroki crumples into his seat. He frowns. “Loaded question.”
“You don’t have to answer. Being a healer is all I have ever known. And I’m still a healer, it’s just not all-encompassing anymore. It can’t be.” Izuku’s voice fades until it’s above a whisper.
“I’m not a hero,” Todoroki says. He collects himself. “I don’t even want to be a hero anymore and some days it still sucks. Some days I look in a mirror and I’m surprised my scar isn’t there. I’ve spent more of my life without it than with it, and yet…”
“I’m sorry,” Izuku says again.
“I know,” Todoroki says. “It’s done and there’s no going back.” Todoroki sighs and rubs his temple. “I still don’t know how I feel about that, knowing that you healed it. But I know it wasn’t done out of malice, so that helps. I would still like to be your friend, even if you don’t come to UA anymore.”
“Of course I still want to be your friend,” Izuku says.
“Good. You should call me Shouto, then.”
Izuku smiles. “As long as you call me Izuku.”
“Visiting hours ended half an hour ago,” a nurse says, stepping into the room. “Kailo, I swear I already shooed out all of your visitors.”
Shouto stands up and straightens out his clothes. “My apologies. I’ll leave.” He gathers his things and looks at Izuku. “Your life will change and it will all look different than what you’re used to, but that’s what life is. I’ll see you later?” he asks instead of saying goodbye.
“You’ll see me later,” Izuku confirms and then the nurse actually does shoo Shouto out. Izuku spends the rest of the night staring at the ceiling, mulling over everything.
Izuku refuses to heal Togata, even when— okay, in spite of— he blubbers. The most Izuku does is make sure the break is correctly set and tells him his overactive quirk will probably heal him anyway. “Your quirk is weird,” Izuku says when Togata tries one last-ditch attempt to bribe Izuku (with chocolate chip cookies from the bakery near the subway stop that Izuku could eat every day and never get sick of). “You heal quicker than normal. If you told me it had some weird healing properties, I’d believe it. You’ll be fine in two days.”
“Can I try?” Kotone asks. The bags under her eyes are still prominent as ever. Izuku is beginning to think that their agency’s newest healer is never truly going to get enough sleep. Kotone sees the concerned look on Izuku’s face and winces. “I feel fine, actually. Got a whole nine hours of sleep last night.”
Togata hides his grimace, but Izuku can see the expression flash across his face anyway. “I’ll numb the area for you,” Izuku says. Kotone’s quirk is powerful in its own right: the ability to rewind time on specific areas of the body. But the drawback is that it’s not truly a healing quirk, and so it doesn’t always heal what it sets out to and when it does, the patient ends up having to relive the pain. Kotone’s trained her quirk so it can function properly in less than ten seconds, but ten seconds is still pain.
A minute later, Kotone settles her hands on Togata’s broken arm. Ten seconds later, Kotone leans back with a groan and Togata flexes his arm, good as new— or at least good as it was twenty-four hours ago.
“I still want the cookies,” Izuku jokes, but because he knows Togata, the cookies will show up on his desk on his next shift. “You’re the last thing on today’s check-list, so if that’s all, I’m going to go home.”
“Have fun at the festival tomorrow,” Kotone says with a smile. She tilts her head towards Togata. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t get into trouble.”
“Hey,” Togata protests, and Izuku laughs himself out of the agency.
It’s an early night, even for Izuku. He’s eaten dinner and fully showered before the sun sets. He calls Katsuki and riles him up by talking about his pathetic romantic actions towards Yaoyorozu. Katsuki ends the call by saying, “But she said yes to the date,” which leaves Izuku sputtering and calling Katsuki again to get the full details because what.
In the morning, Izuku and Shouto meet up in the lobby. Shouto’s already run to the coffee shop and has both of their drinks ready.
“Big day today!” Izuku exclaims. “What are the current bets for your class?”
“I forgot to take in how ambitious first years are when I submitted the final bets,” Shouto says. The last day to adjust your final (and totally unofficial and just amongst UA staff) bets on who would make it through the first year sports festival was a week ago. “All of a sudden, a third of the class is training. One of them came up to me and asked me to help train them.”
“Bold,” Izuku says. “I mean, you did get a lot of training. Put you against any normal civilian and you’d win, hands down.”
Todoroki snorts. “I said no.”
“Figured. Who did you end up betting on?”
The talk all the way to school is filled with discussions of the sports festival. Shouto has a brand new class this year and he’s looking forward to seeing how they surprise him. The hero course has two empty spots this year, so the competition is stiffer than it usually is. Izuku can feel the tension in the air the second they walk through UA’s gates.
They sit in the teacher’s section. Izuku’s not staff, but he’d much rather sit with the Shouto than sit anywhere else. The opening ceremonies start with all the fanfare that Izuku can remember them being, the first year representative delivering the most heartfelt speech a fifteen-year old who wants to win can.
“God, I can’t believe that was us years ago,” Izuku says. “They look like babies.”
“If it makes it better, they are babies.”
“I know! We were babies!” Izuku laughs and eats his popcorn by the handful. “As long as they don’t cause as many injuries as you freezing everyone did, they’ll be well-behaved babies.”
Todoroki cracks a smile in response.
Izuku’s HP rings just as the first race is ending. It’s Shuzenji, pinging him for help with the second years. “Duty calls,” he announces and gives the rest of the popcorn over to Todoroki. “It’s only going to ramp up, but I’ll be back during intermission!”
“Promise?” Todoroki asks, the word now a running gag that is both heartfelt and comedic.
“Well, no, because I don’t know what the kids are going to fuck up. But dinner after is still a promise.”
“Good,” Todoroki says. Izuku’s HP goes off again. “Now leave before it goes off again and Recovery Girl yells at me again for taking all your attention.”
“Sure, sure,” Izuku says and then his HP goes off yet again and now he’s really having to book it. It’s going to be a busy day but damn, is Izuku excited for it all.