Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The night that Izuku Midoriya turns four, he wakes up screaming.

His mother Inko is shocked out of her sleep by the sound of her child falling apart, his cries like nails on a chalkboard as he tries to scratch at his back, blunt nails clawing at tiny shoulders as the souls of the damned force their way up his throat. She doesn’t know what to do, trying her best to find out what’s wrong. There’s nothing on his back, little hands reaching for a blank canvas that he can’t even reach.

She rushes him to the hospital, begging the nurse for help as he screams bloody murder in the waiting room. They rush him back, forced to sedate him so they can take some tests. Even in his sleep, his hands clench and unclench as though scratching at an invisible itch. She holds his tiny fingers in hers, begging to anyone who is listening for her little boy to be okay.

The doctors can’t find an issue.

Every test comes back negative. He’s the picture of health for a four-year-old boy. They try weaning him off the sedatives, but the moment he wakes, more screams push themselves out of his chest and the scratching starts anew. They put him back on sedatives, and a kind nurse tells her that it looks like a rough Quirk awakening.

Not a day ago, Inko would have loved for her child to get a Quirk. Right now, she’s not so sure.

She’s sent home with a pack of sedatives and a promise to return if he isn’t better by the time she runs out of medicine. Her best friend Mitsuki calls, asking why Izuku is missing from the playground. All she can say is that her little boy is sick, because she doesn’t know what else to call it.

It feels so much worse though, so much worse.

Four days later, she forgets to give him the sedatives. Once again, he wakes up screaming, clawing at his back but only reaching his shoulders. She rushes to administer them, crying as she watches him slowly stop the scratching.

Only… the tiny marks that he usually leaves have turned into thin gashes that sluggishly drip onto his All Might themed blankets. She looks at his tiny hands, shocked to see sharp nails where they should be dull.

She researches like her life depends on it, eventually finding an article on the Doomsday Theory. It says that quirks may grow too powerful for a person’s body to contain, that people will literally fray apart at the seams because the power inside them is too much to handle. She dreads the thought of just how powerful he will be with this much pain, even more worried than before because what if this is just the beginning?

A week in, she runs out of sedatives. He wakes up screaming once again, and she rushes to get ready, picking him up and running to the door.

The second she takes a step out into the night air, the screaming stops, and every electronic device in a ten-mile radius shuts down.

Her breathing is heavy, tears running down her face as she slowly unwraps him from the swaddle of blankets she wrapped him in. Her first instinct is to check his pulse, her own heart hammering in her chest as she searches for a vein in his oh so tiny wrist.

When she finds one, pulsing and steady right under her fingers, she sobs in relief, waddling back into her apartment, falling onto the sofa with her son in her arms. The lights are out, and her phone won’t work, and she silently thanks whoever is out there that this didn’t happen at the hospital, where so many people would have died without power.

It’s right there on that couch that he finally wakes up, bundled up in his mother’s arms as she weeps into his curly hair.

“Mom. Why are you crying?” The question only makes her sob even harder, her arms pulling him impossibly close as she once again thanks the universe for giving back her son. He asks again why she is crying, tiny, clawed hands trying to wipe away the tears. It takes him a minute to notice the new addition, a small gasp escaping his chest as he looks at the thin marks he left behind on his mother’s face.

“I’m sorry Mama, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scratch you.” He starts crying himself, hiding his hands into the blanket. She doesn’t let that line of thinking fester, pulling his hands into hers and kissing them over and over again.

“It’s okay, honey, I’m okay. Don’t hide your hands, they’re- beautiful.” She punctuates her words with a kiss on his forehead, opening her palms and looking at his fingers. His eyes follow hers, sparkling when they see the nails and finally realizing what it means.

“Mommy. I got a quirk.” It’s spoken in a whisper, like it’s some sort of secret. He gives her a big smile, showing off teeth that look sharper than razors.

“Is that why my back feels so weird, Mommy?” Her eyebrows furrow, a hand reaching to lift his shirt. The moment it’s lifted all the way up, he hears her gasp and tries to turn and look himself, but can’t turn all the way, only able to see the healing cuts on his shoulders.

“Do you want to see them?” He nods, eyes lighting up with joy. She carries him to the bathroom, slowly lifting his shirt and handing him a mirror. She knows the moment he sees them, his feet kicking back and forth as he squeals in delight.

“Wings! Mama, I have wings!” They’re tiny things, barely the width of Inko’s hands, but wings nonetheless. Bright red and gold, shimmering in the bathroom light, and small, and fluffy, and beautiful.

“I’m a bird, Mommy! I’m a bird!”

“Yes, you are, honey.” She brings up a hand and pinches his cheek, earning that beautiful peal of laughter she missed so much. She almost starts crying again, pulling him back into a hug as he continues to laugh.

She never wants to hear her child scream again.

Midoriya Izuku is six when he starts to change.

His wings have grown, now the width of his mother’s arm span and strong enough to lift him a little off the ground. He hasn’t quite gotten the hang of hovering yet, but he swears he’ll figure it out soon.

Inko believes him because he hasn’t been wrong about his own quirk yet. She loves her little genius, doing whatever she can to stimulate his natural curiosity before the school system tries to chew it up and spit it out like ten-yen gum.

She doesn’t have to worry, though. No amount of stomping will ever destroy his yearning to learn, his love for the world, or his passion to capture every second of his life.

Katsuki, who has learned that he isn’t the center of the universe as Izuku continuously beats him in every academic area, sticks close to his childhood friend. They play together, often speaking of how they will be an unbeatable hero duo. Mitsuki and Inko love watching them play, but then something changes that they can’t quite understand.

Suddenly, Inko’s son is drawn to heat like a moth to a flame, touching candles and breathing in smoke like a second skin. The first time she finds him with his finger in the fire, she freaks out, but there is no burn on his finger, no blister on his arm.

Coupled with this love of fire comes another change. His once bubbly, outgoing persona turns… floaty, like he’s drifting through life and not living it. He still hangs out with Kacchan, but he doesn’t play as much. He draws constantly, cataloging his life in new ways that only he can see.

Katsuki pokes and prods, trying to bring back his lively companion but never succeeding. Nobody knows what to do but adapt, because something has changed, and there’s nothing they can do about it.

Inko wonders what this quirk has done to her boy as he washes the dishes with boiling water.

She hopes it doesn’t take anything else.

Izuku Midoriya is eight when he dies.

A villain fight that caused a pileup, cars stacked atop each other and flipped over on the road. Inko wakes up hanging upside down, her head aching and body throbbing. Her first thought is, ‘ Where is Izuku? Where is my son?’ A firefighter pulls her out of the car, trying to calm her down as she fights to stay where she is because her son isn’t with them.

Everyone freezes at the sound of anguish that echoes across the road. Even the villain stops midair, staring as a mother weeps over her child with screams that cut through the air like a knife. Nobody moves, tears dripping from their eyes as she cradles the mangled body of her son. Her little sun.

That means they’re all looking, helicopters and heroes, when the child in her arms bursts into flame.

Someone tries to pull her away, but she refuses to move, cradling the little fire that refuses to burn its mother. Everyone is looking as he turns to ash, slipping through her fingers like sand on a beach. Everyone is looking when the flames grow higher, surrounding the mother in an embrace as the child forms back into a human, wings spread wide and feathers alight in beautiful orange flames.

When the fire goes out, his wings have changed. The colors that were once a calm red and gold now glow in the low light of the evening. It’s not just the fire, gold plumes shining with the brightness of the sun.

He settles into place, arms wrapped around his mother, body covered in ash. She’s crying still, tears dripping into his now white hair. Nobody moves, the feeling of something larger than life still pressing down on them.

The hero and villain are no longer in the air, forced to the ground by an overwhelming presence. The civilians are on their knees, looking at the image of a mother and son who will forever be seared into their eyeballs.

Inko refuses to let go of her child until he pulls away, eyes dazed but hands holding hers like that night four years ago. A firefighter is the first to move, rushing forward with a blanket to replace the charred clothes that lay on the ground.

Izuku looks at him, nodding slightly as he wraps himself up and goes back to leaning against his mother. Her cries have stopped. Soft, unburned hands stroking his hair and back. Around her, the fire still burns, charred concrete under her feet as she carries him out of the crater he formed.

She takes him to a paramedic, and they let him sit on the gurney because they’re not brave enough to force him to lie down. They do a quick checkup, and everything comes back fine. Once again, he’s the perfect picture of health. Even the broken arm he had been nursing is healed like it never existed. Inko, who has gotten quite used to prayer, thanks the heavens that her son is alive.

She prays she never has to see him burn again, prays this is a onetime thing. Katsuki is thrilled to see the bright shimmer on his best friend’s wings, poking and prodding all the spots he knows it doesn’t hurt. Izuku giggles, wrapping his wings around his torso and batting curious hands away.

Mitsuki hugs her best friend, letting the woman sob as she talks about ash and fire and the power she felt. This isn’t just a quirk. She’s never felt such a presence before, even in front of All Might. This is something else, and she is scared. Mitsuki tries to comfort her, but it isn’t until Izuku walks in and holds his mother’s hands with a soft smile that she stops crying.

“Hey, Mom, look what I can do!” She nods her head, wiping away the tears and focusing on her baby. He takes a step back, holds up his hand, and lights it on fire. Both parents yelp, Mitsuki jumping back, and Inko jumping forward.

But the fire doesn’t burn as it covers his hand. It just sits, dancing over his skin.

“Isn’t it pretty, Mom?” She nods, forcing the lump in her throat down.

“Yeah, honey. It’s beautiful. Just like you.” He lets out that joyous peal of laughter she loves so much before putting down his hand, the fire going out. His wings are still wrapped around his torso, protecting him from the toy that bounces off red feathers.

“Kacchan! Stop doing that!” Inko watches as her son goes back to his friend, heart heavy and eyes tearing up.

She knows.

This was the first time her son died.

It won’t be the last.

Izuku Midoriya is ten when everything falls apart.

Flames that aren’t his own dance over his skin, what was supposed to be his home now ash and rubble beneath his knees. There are screams and sirens, fire trucks surrounding the burning building, and firefighters rushing in, trying to save even one person.

Izuku doesn’t move, kneeling on the ground, staring at the remnants of his living room and the burning wood all around him. No one looks for him, convinced that anyone that close to the blast couldn’t have survived.

They would be right, charred clothes on the ground, fire licking at the ashes left behind. They would be right, everyone did die, they just didn’t know that one of them could come back.

Three hours later, as they explore the rubble, they find a young boy sitting in the ruins of the building. At first, they think it must be a kid who got past their barricade, annoyed that no one stopped him. Then they see the lack of clothes and ash-covered skin, and that annoyance turns to confusion. He doesn’t move when they reach him, staring at a pile of rubble, eyes dry, face blank.

They ask him if he’s okay, he doesn’t respond. Someone drapes a shock blanket over his lap, unsure how to work around the wings because they’re supposed to be the cleanup crew, this isn’t their job. The kid doesn’t budge, doesn’t blink, just staring at the destruction no matter what they try to do. Eventually, someone calls over a firefighter.

They ask the kid where his parents are. A clawed finger points at the rubble.

They spend hours trying to coax him into leaving, eventually sedating him when he tries to fight the firefighters attempting to help. They all watch with sad eyes as he’s sent to the hospital, hoping he gets better even though they couldn’t find a single injury.

A week passes. The building is unsalvageable. They find bones under the debris. Midoriya Inko is pronounced dead. Died in a fire started by the number two hero. The child, now labeled Izuku Midoriya, refuses to speak. They can’t find any living relatives, eventually contacting his godmother, Bakugou Mitsuki.

It turns out that she was looking for him and thanks them profusely when they finally tell her where he is. She hugs him, cries into his white hair, strokes the wings that glow and shift beneath her fingers.

He still doesn’t talk, staring straight ahead at white walls with blank eyes.

A few days later, they tell her they can discharge him. Thankfully, he follows her, still staring ahead without blinking as she drives them home. Katsuki is beside himself, trying as hard as he can to get a reaction. Nothing works. Izuku refuses to use his fire, refuses to play like a child, refuses to do anything but sit and stare and hide.

Weeks pass. Izuku doesn’t change. Other kids avoid him, Katsuki gets mad, he still doesn’t change. Mitsuki tries her best, she really does, but Izuku seems to ignore her efforts. It’s a struggle, getting him to eat, getting him to do anything but stare into the distance.

He turns eleven, wings growing wide, body growing taller. Katsuki stays angry, protecting Izuku from the harsh words of their classmates, getting disciplinaries every time he picks a fight. People stop talking about Izuku altogether to avoid Katsuki's wrath.

Izuku still doesn't use his flames, still hides away from the world, still refuses to show emotion.

He starts flying. He leaves for hours at a time, gone with the wind, no trace of him left behind. Mitsuki lets him leave because she doesn’t know what else to do. He never comes back past curfew, never tests her rules, but it still scares her. He doesn’t play anymore, doesn’t pay attention to heroes, doesn’t write. He just… flies.

Something changes when he turns twelve. It’s not him, he stays the same. He still looks into the distance like he’s seeing things that aren’t there.

He doesn’t change, but his body does.

Katsuki notices first, poking and prodding to try and figure out when he has time to train and when he got all those strange muscles. Katsuki notices first, then Mitsuki, then Masaru, all wondering where he’s going during the day.

He starts coming home injured, just bruises at first, but that changes fast. Cuts, scrapes, large wounds. They start noticing blood on his clothes and medical supplies in his room. Mitsuki tries to keep him from going out, he just vanishes no matter what she does. They try to talk to him, try to get him help. Nothing works.

On his thirteenth birthday, Izuku Midoriya vanishes.

The Bakugou family panics, tries their best to find him. Heroes are called, the police open a case, and the news picks up the story and runs with it. The media drops the story after a couple of weeks, but the panic stays for three months before he shows up again. No one knows where he went, just that he’s back now, just that he has scars all over his body that no thirteen-year-old should ever carry.

He goes back to school, keeps getting good grades without trying. No one can get anything out of him, they never figure out where he was. Mitsuki doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t know how to fix things. She cries in her husband’s arms, missing her best friend, missing the sweet boy her son loved.

Izuku Midoriya is ten when everything falls apart.

And no one can figure out how to put things back together again.

Chapter Text

The minute Aizawa Shota wakes up, he just knows something is going to happen today. He doesn’t know what, doesn’t know when, just that something’s going to happen and it will be annoying as hell even though he’ll have to deal with it.

Just great, he really doesn’t want to take care of a whole new thing like this on a school day.

He ends up drinking his morning coffee on his own, Hizashi already off to work on that damn motorcycle he bought last week. Is that it? Is the motorcycle going to explode or something? No, this is different, it’s hero work.

Great, even more annoying.

Probably not during class hours though, which is strange considering he has no patrols scheduled. Whatever, he’ll cross that bridge when he figures out where it is.

School goes fine. He doesn’t have anyone in his class, after all. They were all expelled on their first day, a bunch of cocky idiots with no drive. Hopefully Nezu will change up the entrance exam a little to get a better lot next year.

Still, he has paperwork to do, and that’s annoying. Hizashi looks a little concerned, but that’s fine. They can talk tonight when they snuggle with the cats and read Lord of the Rings for the thousandth time.

Around noon, he steps into Nezu’s office to turn in paperwork and notices a figure standing outside the gate through the floor-to-ceiling windows. It looks like a kid. An angry kid with spiky blond hair. That’s about all he can see though, the figure a decent bit away and only their posture showcasing their anger. Well, not his student, not his problem.

Still…

“Who’s the kid?”

“Katsuki Bakugou from Aldera Junior High. I’m still not sure why he’s here. I will find out, though. Even if I have to ask him.” Of course the rat would know. He knows everything, after all.

“Whatever, look at this stupid complaint.” Even so, he can’t stop looking at the kid, wondering what on earth is going on. Maybe that’s his emergency? Unlikely, it’s just a kid. Whatever, no reason to worry about it.

He ends up finishing late. All the students and most of the teachers long gone by the time he’s ready to leave. He’s going to take the bus home because he came that way, too lazy to drive a car, no matter how antisocial he is.

Getting home will be annoying, but everything’s been annoying today, so that’s fine. Dragging himself away from his desk and shoving his yellow sleeping bag under it takes more energy than it should, but he’s leaving now, so it doesn’t matter.

The second he steps out of the front entrance, he notices that the spiky blond is still there, just as angry as they were this morning. Annoying, annoying, annoying. Just ignore and walk away. Ignore and get home. He can ignore a child, ri-?

“Hey, you! You’re an underground hero, right?”

…

Well, that’s not what he expected.

“And why would you think that, kid?” He gets a sharp smile in response, lanky legs striding across the street until the blond is standing in front of him. God, this is annoying.

“I don’t recognize you, and you look tired.” That’s… one way to arrive at that conclusion.

“And what if I am?” The smile disappears, replaced by what could only be described as concern. This kid doesn’t seem like the type to be concerned. Where is this going?

“I have a… friend, that needs help. And not the type of help a limelight hero can give him. He needs help from someone like you, someone who won’t lock him up in prison just because he did something a little illegal.”

Huh, it’s not very often people approach him for friends with drug problems. This’ll be his first, actually. He sighs, rubbing his face to prepare for the anger he’s about to get.

“Let me guess, a drug problem.” Only, he doesn’t get anger or even surprise. Just that same disturbing worry.

“No, not that…”

“Then what?”

…

“A quirked fight ring.”

… What the fuck?

When you work at the Musutafu Police Department, there’s one thing you don’t expect to see on a Monday afternoon. And that is the Pro Hero Eraserhead. It doesn’t matter that Aizawa has an office here, he doesn’t come in on his days off. And Monday is one of his days off, which means no Eraserhead.

So, it’s safe to say that Tsukauchi is a little confused when he sees his friend drag a spiky blond teenager through the building, because, again, it’s Monday. A few seconds later, the Pro steps out of his office and makes a beeline for Tsukauchi’s desk.

Needless to say, the detective is more than a little curious about what on earth could drag someone like Aizawa into work on, again, A MONDAY.

“I have a case for you.” Okay, okay. This will be interesting. Tsukauchi nods and motions for Aizawa to lead the way with a small, tired smile. They walk to Aizawa’s office, stopping right outside the closed door.

“The kid’s name is Bakugou Katsuki. I’ll let him explain.” Tsukauchi writes it down before nodding, taking a step back as the door opens before stepping inside. The kid, Bakugou, is still waiting for them on the chair Aizawa left him on, staring at the wall with anger in his gaze.

Aizawa closes and locks the door behind them before plopping down on his chair with a huff as Tsukauchi moves to sit next to him, notebook in one hand and pencil in the other.

“Okay, this is Detective Tsukauchi. His quirk is Lie Detector. Tell him what you told me.” He looks at the kid, a little excited to hear what he has to say.

“I think my best friend is in a quirked fight ring.”

…

That’s, definitely not normal.

“How old is your friend?”

“Fourteen.”

“What’s his name?”

“... Can I really trust this dude?” He’s looking at Aizawa, glancing at Tsukauchi with wariness in his gaze. Aizawa sighs, rubbing his face like this is the most inconvenient thing in the world.

“I trust him. He’s worked with me to help a lot of kids in need, including those with questionable legal backgrounds. He won’t rat your friend out if that’s what you’re worried about.” Rat him out, huh? So, not a case of kidnapping.

Bakugou sighs, turning back toward the detective with a glare. “His name is Midoriya Izuku. You may have heard of him from the Black Hawk incident.”

Tsukauchi looks at Aizawa with raised eyebrows. “The Black Hawk incident, huh? That’s where that kid came back from the dead after Black Hawk caused a pileup, right? Something about a phoenix quirk?” The blond’s expression turns grim, like it’s not something he wants to talk about. Tsukauchi goes to shift the subject, but he’s cut off before he can get a word out.

“Yea, phoenix quirk… He can’t fucking die, which means he lived and his mom didn’t when Endeavor burned down his apartment.”

…

Holy shit.

Tsukauchi looks at his friend, noting the slightly raised eyebrows. So the kid didn’t tell him about that then. Talk about a tragic backstory.

“That happened four years ago. He turned fourteen last week, and he’s… it’s getting worse.” Hmm, interesting.

“What’s getting worse?” Bakugou looks up at the detective with a harsh glare, like it’s a stupid question.

“THE FUCKING-” His jaw snaps shut, hands clenching as he takes a few deep breaths and closes his eyes. So, anger issues, which he’s working on. Adding that to the list.

“My mom is- uh, was, best friends with Zuku’s mom. Like the godmother of her child, kind of best friend. So, my mom adopted Zuku after Aunty Inko died, and, well… Zuku was different. He just, shut down. I mean, that makes sense since his mom just died, but nothing we did helped. Therapy, playdates, buying him stuff. He didn’t respond to anything.

When he turned eleven, he started flying. He would leave for hours at a time. Only, he always came back before curfew, so Mom didn’t try to stop him. He flew like that for months, getting faster every day.

And then something changed when he turned twelve. He must have been training, though I don’t know where. He built muscle fast, like he was preparing for something, constantly coming home with sweaty shirts and minor bruises.

A few months later, he came back with more than just muscles. He was injured. Cuts, scrapes, giant bruises, a broken finger. Mom tried to keep him home, but he would just disappear no matter what she did.” Tsukauchi keeps writing notes, watching as Bakugou looks at everything in the room but them.

“On his thirteenth birthday, he disappeared. We worked with you, trying to find him, but he just… vanished. Nothing worked. We couldn’t find a single trace. He’s smart, really smart, and he showed up three months later without a word. I know for a fact that he left. That’s the only possible explanation.” He must have been on a different case at the time, or something.

“Ever since then, people have been acting like nothing’s changed. He goes to school, he flies away, and I don’t see him until curfew. He’s always injured, so I decided to look into it. I tried to follow him, but he’s fucking fast. I couldn’t keep up, even if I did use my quirk, which I didn’t. ” He glares at them again, as if daring them to arrest him for public quirk use.

Tsukauchi holds up his hands, making sure not to show what he was writing. “I believe you!”

The glare stays put for a few seconds, but Bakugou eventually grumbles and looks away, continuing his story.

“I couldn’t follow him, no matter how hard I tried. He doesn’t leave any trail, not a damn thing. I tried looking at his phone, but I couldn’t unlock it. I tried putting a bug on his jacket, he walked into my room before leaving and dropped the tracker on my desk without a word. No anger, no annoyance. He just fucking nodded at me anD FUCKING LEFT- ”

Bakugou stops again, doing the same routine to cool off, his shoulders shaking, eyes closed. When he’s calmed down again, he huffs and crosses his arms.

“So, I just kept watching him until he slipped up.” Bakugou looks up at them, red eyes staring at Tsukauchi with an impressive intensity. It would make a lesser man nervous, but Tsukauchi has seen many a villain in his time, and this kid is no villain.

“He came home with a slip in his pocket. I found it after he fell asleep, but it took me a few days to figure out what it was.” He pauses, looking at Eraserhead, who nods his head. Bakugou doesn’t speak though, his body tensing again. Maybe he needs a little nudge.

“What was it?” The kid’s neck snaps to look at him, eyes glaring and fists clenching.

“A betting slip. For a fight ring.” Very interesting.

“And why do you think it’s a quirked fight ring?”

“Because I found it.” Tsukauchi almost chokes on nothing, his pencil slipping on the paper, and his neck jerking up to look at the kid. He hears Aizawa shift, glancing over at his friend and learning that this is news to both of them.

“You… You found it?” Bakugou sneers and looks away, like he’s deciding if they’re worth his effort. They wait for him to come to them, glancing at each other in confusion. Finally, the kid sighs a deep, heavy sigh, sinking into the chair before speaking.

“Okay, I know it was stupid, but I needed proof, and I couldn’t think of any other way to get it. I wore a disguise, I didn’t show my face, and I snuck in. I took pictures and video, and then I left. I’ve been trying to find an underground hero ever since. I couldn’t find one, so I waited outside UA because it made sense that there would be at least one underground hero working there.” This kid’s pretty smart.

“I didn’t get a video of him, but I got enough proof for you to open an investigation.” Bakugou reaches into his pocket and pulls out a camera, holding it up for them to see with a glare.

“I’m going to be a hero, so I want in. I don’t care where. I could push fucking paperwork for all I care, but I want in. That’s the deal.” Tsukauchi feels his eyebrows raise, looking at Aizawa to see a matching look of surprise. This is very much not normal.

Tsukauchi’s seen the anger, seen the distrust. He’s seen kids, seen adults, seen everything in between. What he hasn’t seen is an angry teenager who wants to take down a full-blown fight ring. And the fact that he’s willing to do nothing more than paperwork? Very different indeed.

Aizawa is the one to break the silence, his voice more curious than anything. “And what’s in it for us?”

For the first time since Tsukauchi has met Bakugou, the kid smiles, sharp and feral.

“You get to get rid of Kousei.” Tsukauchi almost drops his notebook this time, just barely keeping himself from jumping out of his chair. He stares at the kid in shock, mouth hanging open as the name bounces around in his head.

“Where the hell did you hear that name?” Aizawa sounds dangerous, and Bakugou stops smiling the second he hears him. Okay, good. Eraserhead still has his edge.

“I’m not telling. Not until you give me a spot.” Wow, the kid has guts. Not just anyone can look Eraserhead in the eye and stand their ground. Impressive, and a little annoying, but that’s fine.

Still, how on earth did a teenager know the name of a man Tsukauchi has been trying to pin for years ? How did he even know that they’ve been looking for him? Kousei has been a pain in their side for almost five years now, and they’re nowhere near close to finding a lead. He’s done what feels like hundreds of busts, and Kousei’s name has been there every time, and they still haven’t been able to get him.

Okay, this is obviously more complicated than they thought it would be. If Kousei is running the fight ring, then this won’t be a simple in and out. This will take planning, and a lot of it.

Tsukauchi looks at Aizawa and motions toward the door, trying his hardest to stay calm. Aizawa nods and goes to stand up, turning toward Bakugou one last time.

“We’re going to step out for a moment. Don’t touch anything.” Bakugou quirks an eyebrow in their direction, looking at the bare office before rolling his eyes and leaning back into the chair with a huff. It’s very adolescent, reassuring Tsukauchi that yes, this is a child. No, this isn’t some grown-ass man in a teenager’s body. This is a child.

Such a weird situation.

He steps out of Aizawa’s office with his friend right behind him, closing the door and staring at each other for a second. He looks at the door, then back at Aizawa, quirking his eyebrow in question. His friend lets out a heavy sigh, slouching like he’s done with the world.

“He just showed up in front of UA, stood there for God knows how long until I came out. He clocked that I was an underground hero because, and I quote, “I don’t recognize you, and you look tired.” I heard him out, and it was weird enough for me to bring him in. Did he lie at all?” Tsukauchi rubs at his temple, looking at his meager notes as he tries to come to terms with everything.

“Not a single time. He believed every word he said. How the hell does he know that name? Even better, how does he know Kousei is a target?” Aizawa leans against the door to his office, looking around the room with a tired expression.

“I have a feeling we won’t get another word out of him without taking his deal. Even if we call his mother in and interrogate him, we don’t have any leverage. We don’t even have proof that he’s right about his brother.”

“Sure, but there’s no way Chief would approve of having a kid on the team. Especially one without any academy experience. This entire case is classified, so even if he got a basic pass, it wouldn’t be enough. I don’t have anything to give him, and he seems pretty determined. You think there’s any chance he’d be willing to compromise? Give him, I dunno, weekly updates or something?”

The words pause for a moment while Aizawa thinks, eyes now looking at the floor without blinking. They stand there in silence, both parties trying to come up with a solution. Tsukauchi looks up when Aizawa suddenly shifts, watching as an idea forms in his friend’s mind.

“Chief let a hero intern in on a case a couple months ago. Not full access, but enough for him to stay in the loop. If you get me on the case, and if I can convince his parents to let me teach him for, say, five months…” He trails off, tilting his head to the side.

“That… might work. If you bring me the camera, I can get you in on the case, no problem. He’s smart though. He probably won’t hand it over until he’s officially your intern. That might take a week or two.”

“I can handle that. Is it a plan?”

“It’s a plan!” Tsukauchi takes a step back so Aizawa can open the door, keeping his expression neutral as they walk inside.

“You got an answer for me, geezers?” Right, child. This is going to be interesting.

“I have a proposal, but it’ll take work.” Bakugou looks at Aizawa with a glare, arms still crossed and back still leaning against the chair.

“No shit. I’m not an idiot. I know you can’t just give me access to confidential files. What’s your ‘proposal’?” Of course he would know just how difficult his request is.

“You’re fourteen, right?”

“Yup.”

“Good, that means you can be a hero intern. Barely.” Bakugou shifts, raising an eyebrow in surprise.

“Here’s the deal. This is a highly classified case, and there’s nothing we can do to get you full access.” That gets them a frown and a dramatic huff.

“But, if a hero has an intern and includes them in a case, they can get basic updates and could, if the hero makes a suitable case, assist in certain areas. I’m talking limited access. Very limited. Would that be enough for you?”

Bakugou doesn’t speak at first, staring at Aizawa with a single-minded intensity, only anger in his gaze. It’s a surprisingly good tactic to keep people from knowing what you’re thinking, though Tsukauchi isn’t sure if that’s what the kid is trying to do. His face might just look angry all the time at this rate.

“I’ll know whenever you make progress?” He even sounds angry, like it’s his default state.

“Yes, but you’ll probably only know the bare bones of what that progress is.” Another stretch of silence, red eyes glaring at the floor as Bakugou thinks. His arms are still crossed, but he’s sitting up straight now, one foot tapping on the concrete floor.

“...Fine. Now I gotta get home before Zuku gets back. Here’s your damn camera.” Tsukauchi jerks his hand out, not expecting Bakugou to give them his leverage. “Here’s my address and the times he’s never home. I’ll make up some story so my parents don’t get suspicious. You better keep up your end of the deal.”

He’s walking out of the door before either of them have time to react, Aizawa jumping out of his chair to follow after the kid because, no, he isn’t supposed to be walking through a police station by himself. Tsukauchi watches them leave from Aizawa’s doorway, more than a little confused but not questioning it because he already has enough questions as it is.

He listens closely though, just barely able to hear the kid speak when they’re by the exit. “Thank you, sir. I’ll be waiting for you.” How he can sound so angry while still being polite? Tsukauchi will never know. He would say, ‘Not his circus, not his monkeys,’ but it’s already his circus, and it’s about to be his monkey.

Well, Aizawa’s monkey. That he’ll need to work with.

He watches the kid leave, standing next to his own door as Aizawa makes his way back toward the personal offices. His friend looks tired, very tired, even more so than normal, which is actually an impressive accomplishment. It makes sense, though. Bakugou seems like a very tiring kid, and he knows that Aizawa is just mentally going through every interaction he’s going to have with said kid.

“He’s going to be a handful. Are you sure you’re up for this?” Aizawa groans, looking at the camera in Tsukauchi’s hand.

“Do I have a choice?”

…

Good point.

Getting the Bakugous permission to take on their son as an intern is surprisingly easy. Aizawa has absolutely no idea what the kid told his parents, but they actually tell him that they’re stoked he can ‘get some real-life experience before going to UA’.

Not what he expected, but he’ll take having less work to do.

The first week is just piles of paperwork on top of paperwork next to some more paperwork. It’s the perfect opportunity to show Bakugou just how tedious hero work can be and how annoying it is when people mess up. Once again, the kid surprises him and takes it all without a hint of complaint. He seems to have expected it, which is new.

Most wannabe heroes love the idea of going out and fighting and never having to sit at a desk, but that’s only for the very top percent of heroes. It isn’t until you have a massive agency that you’re able to skip on paperwork, and the vast majority of heroes definitely do not have massive agencies at their beck and call.

Apparently, Bakugou knew that, so he’s prepared to take on the paperwork like it’s a regular part of his life. He doesn’t complain barely at all, finishing his pile and asking for more until Aizawa sends him home for the day.

This goes on until the only paperwork left is for things the kid doesn’t have permission to read. So Aizawa grumbles and drags him to a warehouse he rents, full of gym equipment and sparring mats. Bakugou showcases everything he knows, which is a lot more than most first years, and then he huffs and smiles like he’s something special.

That’s the first thing Aizawa beats out of his head.

He starts with a simple spar, letting Bakugou use his quirk and still knocking him to the floor in a matter of seconds. He does that a few times before using his Erasure as the nail in the coffin. He watches as his pupil stumbles over his own feet when he fails to make any explosions, leaving Aizawa to nudge him while he’s off balance as a final Booyah.

Bakugou looks properly humiliated after that, grimacing as he rubs his arms in slow motions. Aizawa is used to cocky powerhouses with zero ounces of humility, so Bakugou is nothing new to him. It’s immensely satisfying to see them finally realize that they’re not as impressive as their personal trainers tell them they are.

“Okay, I get it. I have work to do. I already knew that, but I ain’t stopping until I’m number one, so don’t underestimate me.” Well, at least he acknowledges that he has stuff to work on.

Over the next week, a basic routine is put in place. Physical training Monday, procedural training Tuesday, physical training Wednesday, police work Thursday, academics Friday, patrol Saturday, and break Sunday. Bakugou takes to it like a fish takes to water, pushing past his limits without complaint. Despite his brash personality and harsh exterior, he’s surprisingly cooperative.

The only area he’s stubborn in is the constant hounding about the newly dubbed ‘Musutafu Purge’. He asks about the case every day, pushing and pushing for information and always asking questions when they finally give him updates. It’s a little annoying, but Aizawa understands the urgency. It must be distressing, seeing your brother come home covered in wounds and being unable to do anything about it.

They are making progress, more progress than they’ve ever made in the last five years combined. Bakugou keeps giving them information he shouldn’t have and refuses to tell them how he gets it. Aizawa is almost scared to ask, so he doesn’t push, sighing like a tired dad and adding the intel to a growing pile of clues.

Five. They’ve found five different quirked fight rings in Musutafu alone. It’s obvious that there are more outside Musutafu, which means not a month in, they’re going to the Chief and pulling other districts into the loop. It’s one of the biggest cases Aizawa has ever worked on, and that’s saying something.

Month two is where things really get moving. They start canvassing the known locations and using the intel they get to find other illegal businesses. Drugs, prostitution, kidnapping, larceny. Kousei has his fingers in a lot of pots, which means more help, which means more underground heroes.

Fifteen. That’s the total number of ‘ businesses’ t hey’ve found by the end of month two. It’s an insane amount of progress for such little time, and almost half of it is from breadcrumbs a damn teenager gave them. By the time they have a basic plan, Aizawa is about ready to interrogate Bakugou because how the hell does he know so much?

As far as the police know, Eraserhead is the one finding all the clues. And it’s not the first time he’s boosted their cases, so they don’t question it. Only Tsukauchi looks at him with knowing eyes, trusting him to keep things handled without a word.

Month three is when they really start planning. He spends hours going through options, ironing out kinks, finding more heroes. His husband is constantly dragging him away from work, forcing him to sleep, shoving food down his throat. He gets scolded more than once for his lack of self-care, but they both know that he’ll stay like this until everything’s handled.

He still goes to UA, still does his paperwork, still talks to Nezu. The rat helps where he can, but he doesn’t have clearance to actually be a part of anything (even if they all know that there’s no way they could stop him from figuring out what’s happening). Whatever, they have this handled. Mostly.

Month three ends with a plan and a time frame. It will take two weeks to bust every location. Twenty-seven heroes, six districts, forty-three targets. Bakugou isn’t taking part in the sting, stuck behind a desk with more than a little paperwork to tie him down. This is going to be all over the news, and fourteen is way too young to be part of something this big.

Thankfully, his pupil doesn’t protest too much, grumbling a little before signing another document and flipping the page.

Month four starts the process. The first step is infiltration and reconnaissance, a crucial stage that begins a two-month operation. Eraserhead isn’t a part of this, thankfully. He’ll be on the outside, part of the sting team when everything starts. Though he does get updated every day, day after day, update after update.

Bakugou still pushes for info, still hands him breadcrumbs. They still train, still practice, leaving Aizawa with pretty much no free time as the days stretch on. The month speeds by, and before he knows it, month four is over.

Month five, December, the final stage. The raid of the century. It’s upgraded from ‘The Musutafu Purge’ to the ‘Tokyo Purge,’ a name that will go down in police records for years to come. It’s an insane amount of work and effort all built up into one giant creature Eraserhead will remember for the rest of his life. Well, at least for the next few years.

He counts down the days to the raid, slowing down his busy schedule to make sure he’s at his best when the time comes. Bakugou doesn’t complain, seemingly aware of what it means. He looks less angry, more determined, like he’s ready for something to happen. The kid has good instincts. He’ll make a great hero.

One week.

Tsukauchi looks about ready to keel over, living off of instant coffee and protein bars as he runs the Musutafu division. Aizawa brings him better coffee, helps him with some paperwork, and earns a tired smile for his troubles. Hizashi brings homemade brownies to the precinct, and everyone there looks so happy they could cry.

Five days.

There’s more paperwork, more red tape, more, more, more. They push through, never stopping, never slowing. They’re going to do this goddammit, and like hell is protocol going to stop them. They work and work and slave away until their heads are numb and their fingers are aching.

Three days.

Bakugou almost catches him off guard during a spar, and he isn’t sure if it’s because the kid is that good, or if he’s just distracted. Either way, Bakugou is getting better, and he’ll be a force to be reckoned with when he gets into UA.

One day.

He takes the final day off, sleeping in and eating good food and hanging out with his husband. It’s their little ritual, their way of coming to terms with the fact that this might be their last night together if things go south. It’s fine, it’s normal, it’s part of the job. He loves his job, no matter how hard it gets, no matter how badly he wants peace.

Twelve hours.

This is it. This is the beginning of the end. He talks to his team and goes over the plan for the thousandth time. They look at him with respect, fully aware of his reputation, of his success rate. That doesn’t mean they think this will be easy. It just means that there’s a slightly better chance they’ll get to see their loved ones again.

Five hours.

His team is ready, the timer ticking down as they wait. He gets updates from the other team leaders and gets info from the people inside. They’ve got this.

Two hours.

They’re on-site, waiting, watching. Eraserhead is ready. His team is ready. This is it.

Thirty minutes.

He can feel the tension. He can feel the fear.

Ten minutes.

Everything is ready, and everyone is determined.

One minute.

Kousei might have heard rumors of what’s about to happen, but they should have the element of surprise. There’s nothing he can do to stop it. This is the end.

Thirty seconds.

Aizawa takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and breathes in the cold night air.

Five

Four

Three

Two

One

Start.

May God help them all.

Chapter Text

Midoriya Izuku is ten when his world falls apart. Waking up surrounded by burning rubble feels like a sick, cosmic joke. Feels like his quirk is far from the blessing people expected it to be. What’s the point of always coming back when those you love the most won’t come back with you? What’s the point of living when everything you lived for burns to the ground along with the remnants of your childhood?

He sits there, staring at the burning coffin that holds his mother, wondering how many coffins he will see before he dies. His wings droop to the floor, ash and dust coating the feathers, covering the glowing plumes with death and gloom.

He sits there for God knows how long, waiting, watching. People come, people trying to help. There’s nothing they can do, nothing they can say to fix things. He should be dead. He should be with his mother right now. Instead, he’s sitting here, fingers itching to pull at the fire around him and burn the world to the ground.

They try to take him away. He fights, fully aware that he’s much too weak to do anything substantial. Someone sedates him, and for a second, he wonders if death is taking pity on his soul, if she’ll take him back, and everything will be fine.

Instead, he wakes up in a hospital with Aunty Mitsuki sitting next to his bed.

For the next few months, he floats through life, going through the motions, following instructions. He stares at the shadows surrounding him, images of green hair and kind eyes staring back. Every time he tries to use his flames, he sees that same image, but this time surrounded by burning wood and black ash.

He doesn't use his flames.

He stays with the Bakugous, relies on them, does as he's told. Mitsuki is… different. She’s kind, in her own way, all tight hugs and rough affection where his mother was soft edges and gentle hands.

She’s kind, but Izuku can’t come to care. He can’t come to do anything but walk around like a puppet, moving when he’s told to move and learning when he’s told to learn. The first thing he does of his own accord is turn down their offer of hero training. The very thought of being a hero disgusts him, reminds him of the fucked up system that ruined his life.

Endeavor never faced reparations, never even sent money to the victims. No, he blamed it on the villain, and everyone fucking agreed with him.

It makes Izuku sick, makes him want to do things no hero should ever want to do. So no, he’s never going to be a hero, never going to be some paragon of hope and virtue. He says no to their offer and stares at high rooftops and sharp knives with longing.

On his eleventh birthday, he almost snaps at the Bakugous because he can’t stand the thought of celebrating another year of life when his mother isn’t here to celebrate with him. Instead, he continues to go through the motions, opening presents and thanking them before going to his room and biting his arm until it bleeds.

A few months later, his wings are wide enough to lift him off the ground. It’s the first thing he’s wanted to do since the incident, the first thing that makes him feel something other than apathy. He looks up exercises for people with wing quirks. He works out every day, pushing and pushing until he can almost take off.

That’s the first time he finds himself on the roof of a building. It’s tall, the tallest in Musutafu. It was pretty hard to get over the railing, but his wings helped. He stares at the ground so far below, face blank, eyes full of longing.

He should be able to get the hang of flying if he jumps off at this height, and if he doesn’t? Well, it’s not like he’ll stay dead.

No matter how desperately he wishes he would.

Slowly, ever so slowly, he tips over the edge, falling for less than a second before his wings catch the air. For some reason, his body just takes over from there, wings flapping, carrying him through the sky. He’s flying! He’s flying, and it feels like freedom.

It takes a few more weeks to be able to take off from the ground, but he figures it out eventually, spending practically all of his free time soaring through the air. The more he flies, the faster he gets, the better he feels. His mind always goes quiet in the sky, the static finally softening as the sound of the wind takes over his senses.

For months, that’s all he wants to do. He doesn’t fall behind in school, he still helps around the house, but more often than not, he just flies. Life seems to pass faster, the days seem a little less dark. He’s still going through the motions, but he doesn’t gaze at the ground while standing on tall buildings anymore.

Time passes, and before he knows it, another year has passed.

A few weeks before his twelfth birthday, Izuku realizes something.

Someone is watching him fly.

It catches him off guard, a wariness settling in his chest as he watches the stranger back. They notice the change, stop hiding, always in view. They circle each other for a week before Izuku gives in and approaches an unfamiliar rooftop.

It’s a man, tall, dark skin, short curly hair, obviously not Japanese. He’s wearing an expensive suit, standing near the edge of the roof. It’s a stranger, one who likely has some way to defend himself. Izuku doesn’t care, crossing his arms and gently landing on his feet.

After all, it doesn’t matter if they kill him. He can always come back.

“What do you want?” He doesn’t react to Izuku’s harsh tone, a relaxed smile on his face as he watches with curious black eyes.

“Just to talk.” That’s a lie if he’s ever heard one, but it still doesn’t matter.

“Well, I’m here. Talk.” Izuku watches closely as the man moves, watches as a hand reaches to the side and pulls a chair out of thin air. Then a stool. Then, a cup of water. He watches as the man sits down and motions towards the stool as he sips his drink.

It’s obvious that he’s showcasing his quirk, an attempt to garner trust. If anything, it only makes Izuku more wary, because this is someone who knows what they’re doing. This is someone dangerous.

Still, he sits on the stool, keeping his face neutral and body relaxed.

“You may call me Kousei. Is there a name you would prefer I use?” Izuku is under no impression that this man doesn’t know his name. This is another attempt to earn trust. It’s not going to work.

“Kaho.” The stranger’s smile grows, like Izuku passed a test. He probably did, but doesn’t care enough to figure out what it was.

“It’s nice to meet you, Kaho. I have a, proposition for you.” No shit. “You show promise, and a lot of it. Your quirk, your speed, your strength. You’ve been training your whole life, and it seems such a shame to let it all go to waste.” So, this man has been watching him for a while, probably since his very public quirk awakening.

“Now, I have a feeling you might enjoy a little action here and there. Just to get the edge off, an extracurricular activity, if you will. I have an abundance of resources, and I’d be more than willing to spend some on you if it meant utilizing your potential.” Izuku watches the man reach into what is either a portal to another room or a pocket dimension and pull out a slim card.

“I don’t expect an immediate answer, so here’s my card. Only you can see the writing. It looks blank to everyone else. Please, take your time, do some research. My people are instructed to give you access to everything you may need. Don’t hesitate to call.” Izuku takes the card, glances at the information, and slips it into his pocket before looking back at the man.

“Thank you for your time, Kaho. I’ll be waiting for your decision.” Izuku stands up with the man, stepping to the side so Kousei can put the chairs back where they came from. He watches him leave, watches with keen eyes and sharp talons, taking in every detail he can see.

Izuku spends the week before his twelfth birthday doing research. He finds quite a lot of information, some that Kousei probably doesn’t want him to know. He learns and thinks and watches. He goes to one of the locations he found, shows the card to the bouncer, and walks right in without a single issue.

He watches as people fight like dogs, spitting venom and clawing at bare skin. It’s animalistic, raw, and something in Izuku’s chest shifts. He’s a child. A tall child, but still a child, and people stare at him as he watches. That’s fine, they won’t be seeing his face when he fights.

Izuku is twelve when he starts training, and his teacher is ruthless. Anything he learned is thrown down the drain, everything he thought he knew tossed into the trash as he learns to fight like an animal. He learns fast, the bruises on his skin and the constant ache in his muscles keeping him company as he starts to actually feel things.

Flying makes everything quiet. Fighting? Fighting makes him feel alive.

He spends months training, pushing himself harder than he’s ever gone before. He pushes and pushes and pushes until he’s strong enough to take down his teacher almost every time they fight. That means Kousei buys him a new teacher, one that teaches him technique, finesse. It’s very different from his first one, but he’ll take everything he can get.

This goes on for six months before Kousei approaches him with an offer. A substantial monetary reward each week he fights, as long as he wins more than half of his matches. Kousei tries to approach the topic slowly, but Izuku agrees to fight before he’s even finished with his first sentence.

Kousei is very surprised, unaware that Izuku even knew about the rings. It’s not the last time his benefactor underestimates him.

He spends a week designing his costume, then another week watching them make it. It hides his identity fairly well, covers his hair, his eyes. He keeps his mouth and talons uncovered, accustom to using them during a fight.

The ring he starts in is small, local, unassuming. It looks like any other bar, only with a basement that’s missing from public schematics. He watches a few matches from the locker room, analyzing what exactly he’s up against. It only takes him a few minutes to realize that these people aren’t just amateurs, they’re completely untrained.

This is going to be a breeze, and Kousei fully intended for it to be that way.

Midoriya Izuku is twelve years old when Kaho makes his debut. It sends a buzz through the underground, people talking about the short fighter with fiery wings and sharp talons. They talk about how he took down his first opponent in three seconds, about how he didn’t even use his quirk to do it.

Kaho fights five days a week, and he quickly needs to move to a bigger ring because of how many people buy seats to see him. He fights and fights and makes his way up the ranks until he’s finally fighting people on his level. It takes a few months, but people still come to watch the prodigy teenager as he learns.

And learn he does. He absorbs information like a sponge, copying fighting styles, finally using his quirk. Or, at least, he uses what they assume is his quirk.

You see, there’s one thing Kousei doesn’t know about Izuku, and that is the fact that there’s more to him than a phoenix quirk. No, Kousei has never seen Izuku manipulate flame like it’s second nature, never seen him breathe fire from his lungs. No, Kaho doesn’t have a fire quirk, he has wings and talons and sharp teeth.

Kaho tears, and bites, and claws, he doesn’t burn. Sure, he has a strange resistance to flames, but Kousei knows that Kaho can rise from the ashes. Of course he would be impervious to fire!

So, Kaho fights, and learns, and grows, and gets stronger until he’s a force to be reckoned with, even among the stronger ranks.

But with that growth comes something he didn’t expect. He learns things, hears things. His curiosity grows, and suddenly he realizes just how fucked he is.

Izuku knew Kousei wasn’t a good man. He knew about the less than legal dealings, but that’s not the same as seeing it firsthand. Izuku doesn’t want to be a hero, the very thought disgusts him, but that doesn’t mean he wants to be a villain.

Izuku is about to turn thirteen when he realizes that he’s stuck.

Kousei has sponsored him for the yearly gladiator event, put him in the running for something that could kill him if he isn’t careful. It’s not to the death, but it’s close. He could die, could burn up for all to see.

And he can’t get out of it.

Something in his mind shifts then, a thought settling in his head as he looks at the lineup ahead of him.

He needs to fix this. He needs to stop Kousei. He needs to take him down. He spends hours coming to terms with the fact that he can’t do it himself, that he’ll need outside help. He spends hours making peace with that fact, and then.

He starts planning.

Midoriya Izuku is thirteen years old when he vanishes. It’s no coincidence that the Gladiator Event started on his birthday, and this time, he cares about all the details. So, he finds the person leaking all his information. A few days later, the police get a tip, and his stalker is arrested on charges of larceny, drug trafficking, and counterfeiting.

Izuku watches from the locker room as Kousei struggles to hide his anger, smiling as he waits for his name to be called. It’s satisfying, watching his plan begin. It’s less satisfying, walking into a building big enough to hold thousands of people, all cheering and jeering and screaming as Izuku faces his first opponent.

He wins his first fight in forty-five seconds.

He wins his second fight in three minutes.

His third in seven.

He’s never heard so many people be so loud in the same room before, never stood on top of passed out opponents with his hand held high and his wings spread wide. Kousei looks slightly less pissed and disgustingly proud, watching him with a glee in his eyes that makes Izuku’s skin crawl.

They spend the night in the same hotel, a young woman rubbing Izuku’s back as he takes a bath in a tub made for people with mutant-type quirks. He grooms his wings with a special oil Kousei gave him, making sure to look as pretty as possible. Kaho is slim and small and known for his beauty, despite the brutal way he takes down his opponents.

So that means he needs to stay beautiful, no matter how injured he is.

His wings shine like the sun, and his talons are as sharp as they can get, ready for another day of fighting. He goes to bed with tense shoulders and a busy mind despite the massage, sending a message on his phone before falling asleep.

The next day, Izuku sits in the locker room and watches Kousei fume in his seat, furious because another one of his lackeys has been arrested. Izuku simply smiles and walks out and fights and wins and steps on his opponents with his hand held high and his wings spread wide.

He has more injuries this time, a cut on his side, a bruise on his collarbone, a sharp ache in his ribs. There’s a healer waiting for him, pain lacing through his system as his body repairs itself. He sees why she couldn’t get a proper job, and it sucks that he’ll need to take this one away from her.

This goes on for a week until they’re moving to the next arena. It’s a four-hour train ride away, his wings hidden beneath his shirt as he sits in his first-class cabin. It’s luxurious and the perfect place to find all the information he needs for the following week. He uses the computer he made, the phone he adjusted, and the hotspot he pays for.

Kousei can’t touch the information he’s working on.

It’s rinse and repeat from there, each week a new arena, every few days a new bust. He has twelve busts by the end of month one.

Month two is when things start to get hard.

These are fighters with training, these are matches with intent. Izuku breaks a bone for the first time a week in to month two. Kousei finds him with glowing wings and red eyes an hour later, nodding solemnly before helping him to the hotel. Izuku is weak after dying, which means the bath feels heavenly on his hot skin.

He kills himself four more times before month three starts.

It’s a miracle that he manages to keep going, a miracle that he’s still keeping up. It doesn’t make sense, he shouldn’t be this strong, but something pushes him forward.

The Gladiator Event lasts four months.

Izuku lasts three.

He almost dies on camera, flail chest, a broken leg, and a nasty concussion taking him out of the running. He does die behind the scenes, burning up as he chokes on poisoned tea, healing from the wounds faster than any quirk could help him. At least the tea tasted good.

Kousei lets him go home with a fat wad of cash and no way to explain what happened. Izuku busted thirty two of his lackeys, and he’s done with his list of those he needed to get rid of.

Mitsuki is beside herself, Kacchan is angry, Masaru is concerned. Izuku doesn’t talk, doesn’t explain. He goes through the motions, returns to school, slips into his old pattern. He keeps on gathering information, keeps on fighting, keeps on earning cash he doesn’t know what to do with.

Things calm down for a while, puzzle pieces slowly fitting into place. This is going to be a long mission, not to mention dangerous. It’s a miracle that he’s getting as much sleep as he is, that he’s able to sleep at all, that his mind stays silent long enough for him to pass out in the evenings. He still sees green hair in the shadows, still sees burning buildings in his dreams.

It takes Kacchan three months to snap.

Izuku knew it would happen eventually, he just wasn’t sure how it would manifest. Apparently, it manifests into the urge to figure out where Izuku went those three months. It’s mostly just annoying at first, a few minutes spent flying faster than normal here, and a few minutes making sure he doesn’t bring home any clues there.

They spend a few months dancing around each other until, suddenly, Izuku has a realization.

This. This could be the break he needed. Kacchan is smart, very smart. An if Izuku can find a way to communicate without tipping off Kousei…

Bingo.

It takes another couple months to find a pattern, and by then he can tell that Kacchan is getting annoyed. That’s fine, Bakugou is old enough to manage his emotions by now. He did just turn fourteen after all.

Izuku finds a damn tracker in his pocket one day, huffing a soft laugh before dropping it on Kacchan’s bedside table with a blank face and a nod. He knows for a fact that his friend is going to have a meltdown after that, so he leaves quickly, taking off into the afternoon air with a small smile. It’s kind of nice, knowing just how far Kacchan would go for him.

That smile disappears when he comes home with a broken finger. He wanted to die, he really did, but his wings glow for hours after he dies, and he didn’t have time for it to dissipate before he got home. If the rules are tight now, God knows what they would do if they knew he died on a regular basis. So, he tells Kousei that he’ll need a healer before his match the next day, and goes home.

A month later, Izuku comes home with a slip in his pocket.

Just as planned, it’s missing the next morning.

He watches as Kacchan figures out what it is, watches as he starts searching for help. Step one complete, moving on to step two.

For weeks, he finds different things to put in his pocket, always smiling when he checks it the following day and finds it empty. One day, during breakfast, Kacchan looks at him with knowing eyes and glances at a small piece of paper on the table. One of the slips he put in his pocket.

Good, he figured it out.

Izuku turns fourteen, and Kacchan finally finds an underground hero. He watches as his friend starts training, watches and waits, and keeps on putting slips in his pocket. The Gladiator Event was canceled, some strange incident making it impossible to organize events. Little do they know that it wasn’t just a crackdown on police work, but a mole in their midst.

Izuku keeps on fighting, keeps on training, keeps on gathering cuts and scrapes and bruises like trophies. Kousei loves him, Kousei gives him everything his heart could desire. Little does he know that Izuku is going to be the reason his empire falls.

A month passes, then another, then another, and Izuku sees the signs that things are going as planned. He watches as the police uses his information, as underground heroes start congregating, as other districts start working with Musutafu. Everything is working perfectly, all his plans panning out. If things keep going like this, Kousei will be completely gutted in approximately one month.

Somehow, Kousei doesn’t suspect a thing. Somehow, Izuku is still his favorite. Somehow, he still acts like everything is fine. It doesn’t make complete sense because there must be some rumors about the upcoming raids, must be some sort of hint that everything’s about to fall apart. Either the police are keeping this under wraps better than usual, or Kousei is losing his touch.

Either way, Izuku will take it with open arms.

December comes around the corner with little fanfare, seeing as the Bakugous don’t really celebrate any of the holidays. They might go to a festival or two, but not much else. Izuku looks at Kacchan and sees all the progress he’s made. He’s stronger, faster, lighter on his feet. Izuku isn’t sure which of them would win if they fought. The one with years of professional training, or the one who fights like a dirty animal in a ring?

It doesn’t matter, it’s not like they’ll ever fight each other.

Izuku waits and fights and watches, and then, he finally gets a hint. A slip in his pocket that he didn’t put there, a date and time written in purple ink. He stares at the paper as he flies to the bar. He thinks about it as he struggles to stay silent through a healing session. He thinks about it as he spreads his wings out wide in the ring. He thinks about it as he peels off his costume in his private locker room.

One week. He has one week to figure out what he’s going to do during the raid. He has one week to put all his ducks in a row. He has one week where he needs to act like everything is fine, even though all he’s known for the past two years is about to be dismantled in a matter of weeks.

This is it, this is the end, this is where he stops.

What is he going to do when it’s all over? Where will he go? Will he lose this forever? He can’t fight with a quirk in martial arts competitions, he can’t fight with a quirk at all without very specific permits and permissions. The fact that he has a mutation quirk might disqualify him from fighting in any competition altogether. Unfair advantage and all that.

This might be it. This might be the end. He might never get to feel the sensation of fighting ever again. He might be stuck in a bubble for the rest of his life. He might never get to feel alive again.

He didn’t think about that when all this started. He didn’t think about anything that might come after. He won’t regret it, he’ll never regret it. He may not be a hero, but he’ll never be a villain. Villains are no better than heroes, no matter what they preach. Even most vigilantes are just wannabe heroes. There are very few people out there fighting for the right reasons, and he isn’t going to be one of them.

This is going to suck. Will he go through withdrawal? Will he have to resist the urge to go out and find someone to fight? Or will the urge flow out of his system, leave him dry and dead and back at square one, flying just to hear something other than the static buzzing in his head.

Izuku doesn’t know, and he won’t know until it’s all finished.

He stares at the purple ink, curled up in the corner of his bed as he struggles to fall asleep. One day. He has one more day to make peace with the end of this era. He sighs, dropping the slip onto his bedside table and turning off the light. His wings curl up around him, head resting on a luxury pillow he bought with his own money. Money he earned from beating up those at their lowest.

He huffs, pushing the pillow to the side and curling up under the green blankets. Green, his room is so very green. A soft green, calm like mist. Three walls are green, and the fourth is a soft tan. Wood desk with a green desk mat, and green keyboard, and green pc and green, green, green.

His room is green, and it’s not hard to figure out why. The Bakugous are rich, and Mitsuki clocked his attraction to the color almost instantly. She’s been filling his room with green ever since, everything he could desire. It clashes horribly with his wings, but that’s fine. He’s not looking at his wings every second of the day, after all.

Izuku falls asleep in the green, slipping into fiery dreams of blood and ash like every other night.

The next morning, he wakes up and goes to school like every other day. Then, he sits in his room and wonders what he should do next. It’s one of his days off, which is an interesting coincidence. Though it might not be a coincidence at all as far as he knows. He watches as the clock ticks down, as time flies past.

The raid will take place minutes after the final match, ten pm, well into the evening. Izuku waits and waits and waits, and breathes as he wonders which way to turn.

Does he pretend like he’s never known Kousei or his empire? Does he turn himself in? Does he sit down with Kacchan and make a deal? Does he reveal his part in all this? Does he hide his involvement?

What does he do?

‘ding!’

Izuku jolts, looking down at his phone with furrowed eyebrows. Who could be texting him at this time? Kacchan is right next door, he would just yell if he wanted to talk. Masaru and Mitsuki are downstairs watching a movie. He doesn’t have any friends, and Kousei knows not to text him on his days off.

He reaches out slowly, picking up his phone from where he placed it right next to the stupid white slip. It’s an unknown number, staring up at him as he hesitates. Eventually, curiosity pushes him forward, fingers swiping a pattern to open the phone and clicking on the notification.

-unknown-

Hello young Midoriya!

It’s a pleasure finally meeting you!

… What?

He jerks when another message pops up, staring at his phone in confusion.

-unknown-

I must say, I am rather impressed that you managed to complete your goal without getting caught. It is fascinating how far you’ve gotten on your own. Not to mention the fact that you haven’t had any training!

I believe you may be in a bit of a bind now though, if my calculations are correct.

I would like to offer you a way out of your little predicament.

If you’re interested, ask for Eraserhead and Detective Tsukauchi at the Musutafu Police Precinct. Tell them that The White Lotus sent you.

I promise it will be worth your while.

Izuku stares at the messages, trying to figure out what on earth that could mean. Eraserhead. He’s heard that name before. He’s pretty much the number one underground hero in all of Japan, though not in any official standing. Eraserhead is probably one of the few heroes Izuku could bring himself to approve of, so it’s a good sign that this person is probably safe if they think Eraserhead will work with them.

It’s obvious that whoever it is won’t be replying to anything he sends, so he just puts his phone down and thinks. The white lotus. He’s never run into that before. Sure, it’s a popular concept, but not one he’s ever heard of in real life.

Should he risk it?

Does he have a choice?

They obviously know who he is and what he’s done, and quite a bit more than anyone should know, so they must be either very smart or very powerful. Maybe both. Either way, they likely know where he lives, so there’s not much keeping them from just sicking the police on him.

It would be nice to get some more information, but really, what choice does he have?

Izuku sighs, placing his phone on his bedside table and lying down. Either way, he’s not going to do anything tonight. He’ll wait until tomorrow to make a decision.

He falls asleep like that, wings stretched out as he curls up in the sheets.

Fourteen miles away, Aizawa Shota feels a shiver run down his spine, fingers brushing against the teacher’s license in his pocket.

Chapter Text

It’s late in the evening when Tsukauchi and Aizawa finally step into their heated station, sun long since set and moon high in the sky as they remove their winter jackets with a sigh. The second they’ve warmed up a little, they start winding through the maze of desks to get to their respective offices, ignoring the aching of their feet and how the bright lights sting their eyes.

They don’t get even halfway there before someone is stopping them.

“There’s a young man asking for Eraserhead and Detective Tsukauchi. He’s been here for a few hours now.” Aizawa looks at his friend with a quirked eyebrow, wondering if they had anything planned or if this is some random person who just so happened to know both their names. Tsukauchi shrugs and motions for the young cop to show them the way.

She leads them back into the building until they reach the interrogation rooms, smiling and chatting about how her day went like they’re best friends. It’s strange, because neither of them can remember her name, which could be because of the lack of sleep, so that isn’t saying much.

They’re directed to room three, looking through the door and freezing in place when they see a set of brightly colored wings.

They look at the boy, then at each other, then back at the boy, eyes wide as they log everything they can see. Red and gold wings? Check. Talons? Check. Green eyes? Check. Why on God’s green earth is Midoriya Izuku voluntarily sitting in an interrogation room, asking for the two people assigned to arrest him?

Well, there’s one way to find out.

Aizawa takes a step back, letting Tsukauchi open the door so they can walk inside. Midoriya doesn’t move, back already straight, hands already crossed in front of him. He doesn’t even look at them, staring at the one-way mirror with a blank expression. No emotions, no reactions, nothing. They glance at each other again, Tsukauchi shrugging before moving to sit on the chair in front of Izuku as Aizawa leans against the glass.

Finally, Midoriya moves, looking between them before settling on Aizawa, which is a little different because, well, he’s not the one sitting on the chair.

“You’re Eraserhead?” Right, he somehow knows Aizawa’s hero name. Maybe Bakugou told him? Unlikely.

“Yes. And you’re Midoriya Izuku.” It wasn’t a question, and Midoriya doesn’t take it as one, finally looking Tsukauchi in the eye with that same blank expression.

“So, you’re the detective.” Tsukauchi nods, cataloging everything he can see. The number of visible scars is alarming, given how much of his skin is covered. They’re mostly small things, thin cuts on his face and hands, but it just reminds him of the vast expanse of scar tissue Bakugou described to them.

“I’m here to make a deal.” Okay, straight to the point then. Not unusual, and somewhat of a relief for their tired brains.

“The White Lotus sent me.”

…

God Damnit.

Tsukauchi taps his pencil against the table, looking at his blank notebook as he waits for Aizawa to get off the phone. Midoriya sits still and emotionless in front of him, staring off into the distance like Tsukauchi isn’t even there. It’s a little disturbing, the sheer lack of anything emanating around the kid like a thick fog.

Now and then, the sound of Aizawa not quite yelling at his phone breaks through the thick door. It’s one of the most intense arguments Tsukauchi has ever seen him be a part of, and he’s only seeing one side of it. It’s impressive how angry he looks, an expression you rarely see on the face of Musutafu’s most famous underground hero.

It’s been almost thirty minutes, and Tsukauchi has no idea how much longer the phone call is going to last. Midoriya doesn’t seem to care, but that could just be his face seeing as he's yet to make a single other expression. Bakugou did depict him as emotionless whenever they asked him to describe the boy. Emotionless and intense, something about his eyes not quite human in a way many mutant-type quirks tend to manifest.

Finally, after about forty minutes of waiting, Aizawa hangs up the phone and walks into the room with a huff. Tsukauchi looks up from his still-blank notebook, smiling a small, apologetic smile as he watches his friend pull up a second chair from the small pile in the corner of the room.

“Okay Midoriya, you have a lot of explaining to do.” Oh boy, here we go.

“Let’s start simple, how long have you been fighting for Kousei?” Izuku doesn’t blink, doesn’t flinch, doesn’t show a single emotion, responding to Aizawa like a robot.

“I started training before I turned twelve, and I started fighting six months later. So, about two years.” Only six months of training? Must have been intense.

“How often do you fight?”

“Five days a week.” That’s… a lot. As far as Tsukauchi knows, they usually only spar twice a week at UA. Unless they’re preparing for an event.

“Have you ever killed anyone?” Tsukauchi keeps writing his notes as Aizawa asks questions, still trying to find even a hint of a reaction.

“No.” Not a lie, good.

“Where were you when you went missing for those three months last year?” Here comes the harder questions. Not that they’ll get an answer. The detectives weren’t able to get anything out of him then, so they’re probably not going to get anything out of him no-

“Competing in the yearly Gladiator event.”

…

That was unexpected.

Tsukauchi stares at the kid, struggling to keep his expression in check. He has a lot of experience staying neutral, but he’s more than a little tired right now, and that’s making it harder than it should be. Plus, this is a strange situation. Very strange.

Thankfully, Aizawa manages to keep himself from slipping up, asking the next question without pause.

“And what is the ‘Gladiator Event’?” He’s going to need a new notebook soon.

“A yearly competition with a large monetary reward. Four months, sixteen locations, seven matches a day. I don’t know every single detail, but it makes a lot of money.” Impressive. Talk about a big organization.

“You were only gone three months.” Midoriya nods.

“I lost a match, got sent home.” Makes sense.

“Did anything else happen during those three months?” Suddenly, something shifts, Midoriya’s mouth twitching upwards ever so slightly.

“I got thirty-two of his men arrested.”

…

What?

Hold on, where is this coming from?

They must both fail to hide their confusion, because Midoriya sighs and starts to explain without prompting.

“I’m no hero, but I’m not a villain. I fought because it felt good, not because I supported Kousei or his work. I just didn’t know everything he did when I started. He had me pinned down. I couldn’t move without putting the Bakugous in danger. So, I started getting rid of his organization.

I’m sure you’ve been wondering where Kacchan, I mean, Katsuki, gets his information. I put slips into my pocket with clues, he figured out the rest and brought it to you guys. Or, at least, I’m assuming it was you. I’ve been planning this for a while now, but I couldn’t figure out what to do afterwards. This White Lotus person said you could give me a deal, so I came here.”

Aizawa looks at him, silently asking if Midoriya told the truth. Tsukauchi nods and jots down a few more notes before looking back at the kid. The kid who has returned to looking as neutral as one can possibly look. Not annoyed, not sad, not tired. Just, neutral.

“Well, I do have a deal for you. The, uh, ‘White Lotus’ has a lot of influence here, but they’re more than a little eccentric. They’re smart, very smart, and likely know a lot more than I do right now. I trust them, though that probably doesn’t mean much to you.”

Midoriya tilts his head ever so slightly, but doesn’t change his expression. “It means something. You are the Eraserhead, after all.” Aizawa quirks an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms.

“And what exactly does that mean?” Midoriya returns his head to its normal position, mannerisms awfully similar to that of a curious bird. Was he aware of what he did? Is all this blank expression stuff just a front?

“You’re the best of the best. You could probably defeat All Might if he really does just have an enhancement quirk. You graduated from UA at the top of your class. You got into the hero course through the Sports Festival in your first year. You fight to help people, not to garner fame or money. You regularly help with cases most heroes would find beneath them. You are, quite literally, the best of the best. Both in your strength and your character.”

…

Wow, talk about a glowing stamp of approval.

But…

“How do you know so much about me?” Yeah, that.

“I have my sources.” That’s not ominous at all.

“Are they legal?”

...

“I have my sources.”

Tsukauchi can practically hear Aizawa groan, even though he does no such thing. It’s an impressive amount of self-control, an amount that Tsukauchi apparently doesn’t have right now because he ends up needing to cover a small smile with his hand, pencil tapping against his cheek. Thankfully, he doesn’t laugh, but it’s a close call.

“Okay, I’ll allow you to skip past that for now. Do you have any requests before I lay out the proposed deal?” Okay, okay, back to business.

“Am I allowed to know who this ‘White Lotus’ is?” Of course he would ask the one question they can’t answer.

“No, they stay anonymous until they reveal themselves.” Something that could happen at any given time in the future. They are, in more ways than one, very unpredictable.

Midoriya nods, glancing at Tsukauchi's notebook before going back to staring right into Aizawa’s eyes. Tsukauchi hasn’t seen many people who can look Eraserhead in the eye like that. Even Bakugou tends to avoid his gaze, and that kid is quite the firecracker.

“Okay, I’ll lay out the agreement.” Time to see what their eccentric partner has come up with now. “On our half, you get full immunity during this case. We will not charge you for fighting or working with Kousei, nothing. After the deal is finished, you’re free to continue your life like nothing happened. No surveillance, no restrictions, no mark on your record, nothing.”

Tsukauchi silently cheers when Midoriya shows a hint of emotion. Just a hint, just a look of skepticism, but a look nonetheless.

“And on my end?” He almost winces when Aizawa sighs a deep, heavy sigh. Not a good sign.

“On your end? A long process that starts with you helping us take down the remains of Kousei’s organization. According to the White Lotus, you have the ability to lead us to all the remaining locations that we couldn’t find. Including Kousei’s headquarters. Is that true?” That would be incredible if it were.

“Yes, I do.” Damn, impressive. Granted, he must be smart to have caught their attention.

“Okay, that’s the first part. Second, you remain under surveillance until I deem you innoxious. Third, you train under me until the next school year starts. Fourth, you negotiate your attendance at a specific school with the White Lotus. We have no say in that matter, just that you will need to attend and graduate if you want to keep your record clean. Fifth and final. On top of attendance, you will need to take lessons under the White Lotus until you graduate.”

Aizawa pauses, leaning back into his chair with a sigh before speaking. “You won’t be a part of the raids to take down Kousei, you’ll simply be an informant. We will put you and the Bakugous under protective custody, so you won’t need to worry about them. You can think about it for a day, but you will be staying here tonight. Understood?”

Tsukauchi watches closely as Aizawa finishes, trying to find a crack in Midoriya’s mask. He isn’t entirely sure if it’s just a facade, but he’s shown enough emotion for that to be a possibility. At first, nothing happens, green eyes still holding eye contact with Aizawa like it’s no big deal.

But then, it happens. Another crack, another sliver of emotion. He looks like he’s trying to figure something out, piecing together puzzle pieces in his head until suddenly something clicks. His eyes widen ever so slightly, his eyebrows raise just a hair, his head pulls back.

“The White Lotus is Principal Nezu.” Tsukauchi and Aizawa freeze, staring at Midoriya in surprise. Sure, the mention of the school probably hinted at who it was, but not a single person has ever figured that out in all their years of working with the principal of UA.

Well, at least now they know why Nezu has his eye on the kid.

Midoriya ends up taking the deal.

It’s not all that surprising, seeing as they have yet to meet anyone who has turned down an offer from Nezu. The only disparity is that most people at least act like they’re thinking about it. Very few just accept right from the start, and even less do so without attempting to negotiate.

“I’m under no illusion that there are better deals out there. He knows I’m not stupid. He wouldn’t bother giving me a deal that requires haggling.” That’s all he says when Tsukauchi asks him why he isn’t bothering to negotiate. A few hours later, they get confirmation that Nezu already adjusted the deal to the exact specifications that he calculated Midoriya would accept.

And also that he had anticipated the discovery of his identity.

Apparently, it was an obvious conclusion that most people would have arrived at if they weren’t so busy freaking out about a deal. It makes sense, to some degree. The majority of suspects who worry about a deal don’t really care about the identity of their benefactor. This time, though, Nezu came across as rather mysterious in his communications, so it’s ‘to be expected’ that Midoriya was more curious than most.

Either way, they have a deal set in place, and Aizawa is spending the night at the precinct to keep an eye on their new ally. Or has he been an ally this whole time? Tsukauchi’s quirk didn’t go off at all, so he shouldn’t be lying, but half-truths aren’t considered a lie by his damn quirk, so he can’t be absolutely sure that Midoriya is completely on their side.

It’s more likely that the kid has a goal that the police can help him achieve and that he’s taking this deal as a way to reach that goal. After all, they hadn’t found a single hint of Midoriya in any of their raids so far. There had been word of a new winged fighter named Kaho, but there were also two other winged fighters, so that isn’t really any concrete proof.

In the end, if he hadn’t walked into the station and turned himself in? They probably never would have caught him.

Tsukauchi walks into work the next day with a steaming classic coffee from the local shop in one hand and a cup of hot chocolate from his kitchen in the other. He hands the coffee to Aizawa with a familiar, tired smile before looking at Midoriya with a curious expression. Midoriya is just sitting on his makeshift bed in an interesting pose he can’t quite make sense of, almost as if he’s meditating.

Tsukauchi looks at Aizawa with a raised eyebrow, wondering what’s going on.

“I dunno. He was like that when I woke up. I think he slept. Some.” Okay, strange. Maybe he is just meditating…

“I can still hear you.” They both turn to look at the kid, eyebrows raised, because they’re too professional to jump like scared teenagers. His eyes are still closed, body still relaxed. He didn’t sound angry or annoyed, speaking with the same disturbing blankness as yesterday.

“Good, it’s time to get up. We have work to do.” Aizawa sounds a little harsh, but Midoriya doesn’t seem to care, opening his eyes and unfurling from his position like a fancy flower. It shows off his impressive mobility and body control, especially for someone who’s only been doing this for two years. Maybe he trained before that, maybe he only turned down hero training.

They watch as Midoriya makes his way towards where they’re hovering around the entrance of the barracks, watching closely as red wings stretch out behind him. He stops right in front of them, looking up at them with big green eyes and that stupid, blank expression. Why won’t he show emotion? What is he thinking?

“Lead the way.” Blank, blank, blank. Nothing, not a single thing. Tsukauchi has never seen anyone so emotionless in his life. He’s seen cold indifference and calm apathy, but never on this level. People always have their tells, but he can’t find Midoriya’s no matter how hard he looks. Maybe over time, maybe it’s just a shield, maybe he’ll open up, eventually.

Maybe.

They all walk to the conference room, where a digital map is set up on the table. A map full of every single place they know about. It’s a locked conference room, and only a sparse few people have access. Aizawa uses his key and steps inside, holding the door open for them to follow after him.

Tsukauchi watches as Midoriya looks at the table, eyes shifting back and forth as he takes it all in.

“That’s a decent number. Where’s the rest?” They both pause at that, looking at each other in confusion. When they look back, Midoriya is staring at them with, well, nothing. As per usual. Aizawa recovers first, glancing at the table before speaking.

“What do you mean?” Just like the night before, Midoriya’s expression stays the same, but his head tilts to the side like a curious animal. He must not know that he’s doing it. At least that’s one tell Tsukauchi can rely on.

“The rest of your targets? You have, what, forty locations?” Tsukauchi stays quiet, his chest slowly filling with apprehension.

“Forty-three.”

“Right, forty-three. He has seventy-three storefronts and seventeen warehouses. Plus the headquarters, which is made up of three separate buildings. Oh, and the two stadiums he bought four years ago.”

…

Great.

Just what they needed.

“And you know all this how?” Tsukauchi can tell that Aizawa is trying very hard not to sound angry, but it doesn’t really work. Midoriya’s head returns to center, eyes flickering towards the doorway. It’s strange, most people who want an escape route look tense, and he looks just as relaxed as always. Well, not relaxed… blank.

“That’s not part of our deal.”

…

And there goes the hope of him being fully cooperative.

Aizawa sighs a heavy sigh, glaring at the table for a second before finally speaking. “Well, let’s get started then. Tell us where and what each location is. I’ll load them into the system.”

For the next hour, Izuku lists off forty-nine separate locations and what exactly Kousei is doing there. It’s… a lot. Apparently they missed two whole categories of crimes. Counterfeiting being the least concerning, and god forsaken human trafficking being the most.

Human trafficking? How the hell didn’t they see this!? More than half of the fighters in Kousei’s rings are fucking victims. Kidnapped victims.

No wonder Midoriya wanted out.

They go over each location, learning things from a child who shouldn’t know even a fraction of what he does. Even after accounting for the fact that he worked directly under Kousei, how does he know so much about each individual location? Did he actively go to each one? That would be ridiculous, right?

“This one has a worker there, Yoko. She couldn’t get a job because of her quirk. Kousei offered her one and threatened her parents in the same sentence. Get her parents into protective custody, and she’ll help you find every single person who dropped off their cargo in the last two years.”

… Or maybe he did visit each one.

“Kousei has a bad habit of underestimating his own people, but he also has a bad habit of making sure they have no other choice but to follow him. I was his biggest mistake, there’s no one else out there who got as much freedom as I did. I had a gold card, which gave me access to everything. He thinks I adore him. He has no idea that I started all of this.”

That’s one big blind spot.

“I’m eighty percent sure he has a benefactor, someone who helps him with the bigger details. I found a bunch of discrepancies in his logs, money he shouldn’t have, people he shouldn’t know. It doesn’t make sense without another layer, but if they exist, they’re a lot more careful than Kousei.”

Not good. They’ll need to come back to that later.

“There’s a healer working here. It hurts when she heals you, but there are no other side effects. If she goes through the recovery program Nezu set up, then she would make a good on-call nurse for people who need immediate care that no one else can provide without a backlash. She’s a good person, only takes enough money to feed herself and keep her mom on life support.”

Sounds like Midoriya has been healed by her. Tsukauchi adds her to a growing list of people who need their help. It’s getting long, long enough that he switched to digital near the beginning because he just knew that it wasn’t going to stop anytime soon. He was right.

“Now, his headquarters.” Both Tsukauchi and Aizawa perk up at that, checking their list and noting that they have every single building but the main one noted down. Finally, they’re approaching the end.

“It's not in Tokyo. I went there once, during summer break. He wanted to introduce me to his family like some sort of prized dog. His parents are dead. He has a sister, a brother, and two nieces. I don’t know their names, he was pretty good at hiding who they were. They seemed pretty pissed that he dragged them to his home, though, so I don’t think there’s any love lost there. They’d probably rat him out if it would do anything.” Good to know, good to know.

“Okay, it’s- can I use it?” Tsukauchi looks up from the map to see Midoriya pointing at the controls for the table. Aizawa shrugs and takes a step back, giving the go-ahead for Midoriya to take over. That’s when Tsukauchi notices Midoriya’s wings, which are ever so slightly puffed up. Is that, excitement? Maybe?

Either way, good. Another tell.

He’s drawn back to the present by the surprise of seeing Midoriya use the table without issue. It took him weeks to learn how to use the thing! And Aizawa took days!

Man, it’s making more and more sense why Nezu wants him as a student as time passes.

“Okay, it’s between Nagoya and Kyoto. Right around Inabe, a little to the left, aaaand, there.” They both lean in to see the location, a small dot on the map in the middle of a forest.

“Talk about remote.” Midoriya looks up at him, nodding and taking a step back so Aizawa can get a closer look.

It’s more than just remote, it’s completely removed from the map. The creation of this hologram from satellite imagery allows them to see a rough outline of some houses and an extensive garden. Impressive, how well hidden it is. Especially considering the size.

“He has a lot of workers there, mostly people he trusts or people he has full control over. He loves his niece, Yuko. Spoils her rotten. I think he has at least ten different cars saved for her. All stolen, of course. And before you ask, Yuko’s sister was three months old when I saw them. I don’t know his relationship with her. Still don’t know why he thought it would be a good idea to have me around his family.”

That is a strange mistake on Kousei’s part. He must be at least a little smart, considering how massive his organization grew to be, so why does he make so many little mistakes? How is he still going strong when a damn teenager was able to take down his entire empire in less than two years?

A question for a different time. Right now, they need to start planning.

Aizawa and Tsukauchi congregate in the corner and start discussing options, but they aren’t even a few minutes in before Midoriya is cutting in with critiques and suggestions. They’re actually fairly inciteful, so they decide to include him in everything they can. It’s obvious that he has more knowledge about the situation than both of them, somehow, so they might as well take advantage of his willingness to cooperate.

They spend another two hours planning and taking notes, locked in on their work until they’re all brought back to earth when the door opens. Tsukauchi smiles when he sees their chief, Tsuragamae Kenji. He looks just as tired as they do, suit a tad bit ruffled in areas that suggest extensive walking. He’s probably been going around and checking on each division.

Poor man.

“And who do we have here?” Right, Midoriya. They didn’t really tell him much about Bakugou and his theories because they were just that, theories. That means he has no background in this situation. This'll be tricky.

“He’s here on a deal from the White Lotus. Midoriya Izuku, Chief Tsuragamae. Chief, Midoriya Izuku.” A second of silence stretches through the room before Midoriya moves, bowing with his wings spreading out ever so slightly.

“It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance, sir.” Chief looks at Midoriya with a sharp gaze, probably looking for any hints as to who he is or what he’s thinking. Midoriya just stands up straight and stares back with that same old blank stare. Chief looks a little put off, but probably only because he can’t find anything despite years of experience.

“I return the sentiment. I likely missed a message about your involvement. I’ll check my emails as soon as I’m finished here.” Midoriya doesn’t move, standing stock still with relaxed shoulders. Tsukauchi looks closer and notices that the feathers on his wings are perfectly flat, thin and shiny compared to the slight volume they had before.

Maybe anxiety? Tension? Maybe just the normal position? He adds it to his notes even as Tsuragamae scans the room as though looking for danger.

“Do you have everything handled?”

Aizawa is the one to speak this time, stepping forwards without hesitation.

“We have fifty more locations to canvass, including Kousei’s headquarters. We’ll need to bring in more heroes and a few other districts.” Midoriya keeps watching as they talk, not cutting in even once. Aizawa spends quite a while showing all their new info to Tsuragamae and explaining what they have planned so far.

Tsuragamae listens closely, asking questions here and there as they go. It’s a lot of information, too much to fit into his fast schedule. Aizawa summarizes as well as he can, cutting out smaller details and skipping past unnecessary notes.

It still takes them half an hour to catch him up.

“Very good. Thank you, Midoriya, for your contribution. I’ll get the process started. Continue the good work. I’ll schedule a meeting to further discuss future plans.” Aizawa nods.

“Thank you, sir.”

And that’s that. Tsuragamae leaves, and they start back up where they stopped. Midoriya contributes a little less, slightly more withdrawn. Tsukauchi didn’t think it would be possible, but apparently he did open up just a little. They’ll get there, eventually.

Hopefully.

December ends, and with it comes the conclusion of their original plan. Unfortunately, they don’t get a break. No, they end up spending a whole extra month to finish rooting out every last disgusting business Kousei controls.

Midoriya stays under house arrest as they work, something that was tricky to explain to the Bakugous. They ended up calling it protective custody and stating that the case was confidential, which wasn’t entirely a lie. Midoriya doesn’t complain, especially when he learns about the one treat he gets thanks to the deal.

Lessons with the pro hero Eraserhead.

Bakugou’s internship ends the last day of December, which means Aizawa has plenty of time to take on a new child. Midoriya is very different from his brother. Bakugou was anger and harsh edges and a borderline cocky attitude, but he fought with controlled movements and proper technique. Midoriya has calm and contained attitude, but he fights with venom and ferocity, harsh movements and a mix of fighting styles that just barely work together.

Very different indeed.

One big thing is that he doesn’t act like he’s the shit. He actually acts like someone with a complete lack of pride in their strength. Like he doesn’t believe he’s strong in the first place. He’s constantly analyzing every single interaction to try and learn, absorbing everything Aizawa teaches him like a sponge. He acts humble and reserved, until he fights.

The first time Aizawa sees Midoriya smile, it’s more than a little disturbing. It took a few tries to get it into his head that he’s not allowed to bite in a spar, so it isn’t until that rule is followed that his mouth is even free to smile. And when it finally is free? God, talk about feral.

Midoriya only shows emotion during fights, and it’s a disturbing amount of emotion for someone who never shows any. He grins with razor-sharp fangs and piercing eyes, vicious and wild in every way that counts. It takes a few days to get used to how fast Midoriya switches from calm and controlled to viscous and alive.

The first thing Aizawa tries to get into his head is how to fight according to the rules. It physically hurts him to temper the ferocity in his pupils’ eyes, but it’s a necessary step if he’s going to be learning at a school. It takes hours to get the rules into Midoriya’s head, but he doesn’t protest even once, which is a blessing.

Midoriya learns to fight above board in a couple weeks, and then Aizawa can finally teach him how to combine different fighting styles with better accuracy. It’s scary, just how good the kid is. Not good enough to beat Aizawa, but better than most villains he’s fought.

Once a week, Aizawa brings Midoriya into the Musutafu police station. They go over a basic update of how far they’ve gotten, and Midoriya gives them tips they end up using throughout the next week. Thankfully, this only happens four times.

January ends with a bang. The final raid, Kousei’s headquarters.

They manage to gather ten heroes, and plenty of police officers, each one itching to finally be done. Midoriya is stuck at home when it starts, staring at his wall as Aizawa leads the final push.

He doesn’t told to Aizawa until the next day, walking into the police office to see both his teacher and Detective Tsukauchi sitting together with defeated looks on their faces.

“Did something go wrong?” They look up, glancing at the officer who brought him here. The young girl nods and walks away, acting as if she didn’t see a thing. Tsukauchi sighs and turns to their young helper, speaking in a tired tone as he visibly struggles to stay calm.

“Yes, and no. No one got hurt. His headquarters are officially under police custody. We found everything we needed.” He pauses, hands clenching on the table in front of him. Aizawa cuts in, taking over so his friend can cool down.

“We didn’t catch Kousei. He escaped into a closed room and vanished. No windows, no trapdoors. Probably some sort of quirk, but we don’t know what.” Midoriya nods, looking at the piles of paperwork on the desk in front of him.

“I told you, I don’t think he’s working alone.”

Tsukauchi nods, silently agreeing with him.

Nothing they can do about that now.

A tall figure stumbles into a dark room, panting as he rushes forwards. He keeps moving until he’s standing in front of a small screen, fingers shakily picking up the remote and turning it on. It crackles to life, a shining light in the black of the room.

“Where were you!? They took everything!! You said you would help me if I found you the right fighter!”

“...”

“SAY SOMETHING!”

“And who told you that you found the one?” Kousei shivers, his mouth opening and closing as he tries to think of a response.

“He was perfect! He did everything I told him to do!”

“And he was useless. I never told you to pursue him, you decided to do that on your own.”

Shit, damnit.

“Then why didn’t you tell me!?” Static, something builds in the silence.

“Majid Osei.” Air freezes in his chest. “You have outlived your usefulness.”

The air shifts, the TV shuts off.

“Thank you for your service.”

Chapter Text

The first time Midoriya Izuku meets Principal Nezu of UA-High is one week after he’s officially completed his part in the Tokyo Purge. It’s a sunny afternoon in the first week of February, a tired Eraserhead walking him to an unknown location for an unknown meeting with an unknown person. Izuku just keeps on following Aizawa until he stops in front of a small café and motions for Izuku to go inside.

He does as told, stepping through the door and nodding at the cashier, who smiles at him with big, sharp teeth. Apparently she’s in on the situation, because she points at the back of the café, towards a table that appears empty until he’s standing right next to it.

There, sitting with a cup of tea in his paw, is the Nezu.

Well, they were going to have to meet eventually.

“Ahh, wonderful. You arrived just in time. Please! Sit!” Izuku scans his surroundings for a second, including the white stoat in front of him, before adjusting his wings so he can slide into the booth chair. It’s a tight squeeze, but he manages, wings curled up around him in a way that is far more difficult than it was when he was younger.

“Perfect. It’s a pleasure to meet you face-to-face.” A white paw extends ever so slightly, held out for Izuku to take. He has to stretch over the table to make contact, leaning forwards so he can reach. The white fur on Nezu’s paw is soft to the touch, and Izuku makes note of the healthy shine of his coat.

“Wonderful, wonderful. I trust Aizawa has taken good care of you?” Izuku tries to stay relaxed, head full of questions that make him want to tense his shoulders. No, don’t let people know what you’re thinking, that never ends well.

“He has. I’ve learned a lot from him.” It’s no lie. Eraserhead is an impressive fighter and just as impressive of a teacher.

“Good, good. Now we have many things to discuss. I’m sure you have questions, yes?” Right, it doesn’t matter how well he hides his emotions. Nezu is too smart for that, knows him too well, even though they’ve never met. Izuku doesn’t know how he gets his information, but he got it, and there’s nothing to be done now.

“Yes sir.” Nezu smiles, beady black eyes watching him closely.

“Of course. You may ask me five questions. I will answer truthfully and with all details.” That’s a good deal. Better than he expected. He thought he would get maybe one question and a half-concealed answer. This is probably some sort of test, though.

He’ll need to think about it carefully.

There’s no reason to ask about the deal when he will probably get an explanation regardless of his questions. Asking what would have happened if he had turned down the deal would be pointless, seeing as he already knows. And there’s no point in asking about where Kousei is because the police would know by now if Nezu knew.

Okay, five questions.

He can do this.

“When did you start watching me?” That should be good, right?

“Ahh, yes. I first heard of you when you had your second quirk awakening, but I didn’t really start watching until about three years ago. A friend of mine brought up concerns about a hero and I saw your name, which made me curious.”

Okay, that makes sense. No reason asking which hero he was reviewing. There’s only one hero connected to his past, after all.

Next.

“How did you know I would be able to help the police take down Kousei?” That one was tricky to phrase.

“I had a contact in Kousei’s ranks who told me that you were visiting locations you had no reason to visit.” Simple but obvious. A follow-up question is needed.

“How did you know, but not Kousei?” Does Nezu know the answer?

“Kousei chose you for a reason that I’m not aware of, but it blinded him enough to not suspect you. Plus, my informant was far more observant than those reporting to him.” Still feels like they’re missing something, but Nezu would tell him if he knew. Maybe.

Next.

“Why didn’t you turn me in to the police when you learned about what I was doing?” He could probably guess, but he can learn a lot about Nezu depending on his answer.

“I tend to avoid involving myself unless people directly request information. And also, you interested me. I wanted to see where you would go and if you would divert from the path Kousei set you on. It was a bet, and it paid off.”

Okay, Nezu doesn’t particularly care about the law if it doesn’t suit him. He is likely willing to bend the rules if it means getting what he wants. He’s smart (obviously) and powerful, and has contacts in many places. He could have helped the police take down Kousei’s organization, but he didn’t because he was curious. It seems his morals aren’t particularly strong, possibly because he isn’t human, or maybe because he’s just like that.

Nezu is dangerous, and only does as he wishes.

Izuku will need to be careful.

Last question.

“What are you testing me for right now?”

…

Nezu shifts, his smile sharpening, and his paws crossing on the table.

“Very good question. I want to see if you are able to filter out unnecessary information, how fast your reaction timing is, what you can come up with on short notice, and if you are able to focus on the correct topics. And also, of course, if you were able to notice my motive. You have passed my test. Good job.”

Izuku doesn’t smile, doesn’t show his reaction, but something in his chest settles at the knowledge that he didn’t mess up before things even got started. Nezu’s smile softens a little, his hands retreating under the table.

“Now, how about we discuss the terms of your agreement?” Izuku feels anticipation bubble up inside him, but dampens it down and puts a lid on it before responding.

“That would be appreciated.” Nezu nods, reaching to the side and pulling something out of the bag Izuku noticed before sitting down.

“Very good. This is a simple contract for your enrollment. You don’t need to sign it now, and I am open to negotiations.” Izuku takes the small pile of papers, scanning the first page before looking up with a frown.

“This says hero course. I’m not interested in becoming a hero.” That earns him a look that he can’t quite read. God, he hates trying to dissect expressions.

“I am aware of that, but I have a feeling you would still benefit from choosing the hero course even if you don’t pursue heroics as a career.” Unlikely.

“I highly doubt that. I can focus on my studies if I take a different course, preparing me for whatever I choose to do next. From what I’ve heard, the hero course is intensive in the heroics department, and less so in anything else.”

“Perhaps, but you like to fight, no?” Izuku freezes before he can force himself to relax, just for a second until instinct kicks in. It’s enough to change Nezu’s expression though.

“Yes, but I can continue to spar with Eraserhead, no?” He likes what they have going right now.

“I’m afraid Eraserhead isn’t available to tutor during the school year. He will be busy coaching his students. Who could include you!”

… Damnit.

“And there’s no other heroes who would be available?” Please bend, please don’t force him into this.

“Unfortunately, no.” Nezu’s expression doesn’t match the words. Much too happy.

“… I can live without fighting. I don’t want to be a hero.”

There’s silence for a minute, but Izuku is under no illusion that Nezu doesn’t know what to say. He’s simply waiting for Izuku to crack, but he won’t. He’s not interested in being surrounded by hero wannabes who ignore the flaws in society like good little child soldiers.

Finally, Nezu speaks, words smooth and silky and deceptive.

“How about a bet.” No, someone like Nezu doesn’t lose bets.

But… it’s probably his only option.

“Continue.” Wide smile, sharp eyes, perfect fur. Nezu knows how to be intimidating without a single hint of hostility.

“It’s simple. If you win first place in the hero course exam, you join the hero course. If you get anything below that? You may choose the class of your preference. If you refuse, you join the hero course. If you fail on purpose, you join the hero course. I will be watching closely.”

Damnit, that’s actually a pretty good deal. He may be strong, but there’s probably plenty of other people, who’ve had extensive training, taking the exam. Besides, it’s not like he has a choice.

“I accept.” Nezu smiles even wider, holding out a paw to shake his hand once more.

“Wonderful! Now, let us talk about the rest of your arrangement.”

For the next two hours, Nezu goes through every last detail of the deal. They talk about Izuku’s attendance, how much freedom he has outside of class. About his personal lessons with Nezu, which days he has tutoring after class and which days he has alternative assignments. Nezu tells him about the different things he could do in each course and what each teacher can help him with if he wants more work.

They talk about every single detail he might need to know, and then he’s sent home with a pile of papers as a tired Eraserhead guides the way.

That night, Izuku scans the contract over and over until each word is seared into his memory. It’s comprehensive and airtight. There’s nothing he could manipulate, nothing he could interpret differently from what it states. He won’t be able to get out of this, no matter how badly he wants to.

His only hope is that Bakugou may beat him in the entrance exam.

And god does he hope.

Exam day approaches fast, each day flashing by as he studies and spars and exercises. There’s not much else to do, not much else he’s allowed to do. He misses flying, misses spending hours in the sky, misses the feeling of wind hitting his skin. Sparing is nice, but it doesn’t replace the pleasant silence and beautiful view he can’t help but crave as he goes through the motions.

He’s suddenly at home more often than not, unable to leave whenever he wants. That means interacting more with the Bakugous, which means walking through the house with forcefully relaxed shoulders and wings that ache from lack of use. Mitsuki is nice about it, doesn’t push or prod or do anything that could make him uncomfortable.

Unfortunately, Kacchan does not agree with her approach.

No, Kacchan is completely obsessed with getting some sort of explanation out of him, which is not something he wants to give. What is he supposed to say? That he enjoys beating people up? That he can’t help but be drawn to the act of fighting until he drops? None of that would go over well, so there’s no point in saying anything.

Kacchan, once again, doesn’t agree.

No, he keeps trying to corner Izuku, keeps trying to get a reaction using insults and questions and accusations. It isn’t anything he hasn’t heard before from opponents, so none of it works. Kacchan knows what’s too far and seems to know not to approach that bar with a ten foot pole. Which is good, because Izuku doesn’t know what he would do if Kacchan pushed him over the edge.

Of course, that doesn’t mean Kacchan gives up. If anything, it means he doubles down, trying his hardest to find a button to press. He presses and presses, and pushes and pushes, until Izuku is about ready to fly away with or without permission.

That’s when Kacchan decides to try something new.

Physical provocation.

The first time Kacchan pushes his shoulder, Izuku is caught completely off guard. He stands there, staring at where he was touched with wide eyes as he tries to comprehend what just happened. It takes a second for him to catch up with reality, eyes drawn back up to Kacchan, who is watching him closely, as if looking for a reaction.

Izuku snaps out of his stupor and pushes past his friend with a little more force than usual, locking himself in his room for the hundredth time this week alone. Sitting in the green has become his only solace in these annoying times, sometimes playing a steam game on the overly expensive pc Mitsuki bought him. It’s very nice, and much too fancy for someone who has maybe two small games downloaded at one given time.

Kacchan doesn’t bang at his door or try to barge into his room, always respecting this one space for some reason. If Izuku is in his room, no one bothers him. At most, they’ll tell him dinner is ready through the door, or even skip that altogether and text him. Either way, he’s safe.

Until he needs to leave his room for one of many reasons. Including taking a shower or eating dinner. Which means the next time Kacchan corners him, he’s standing in the hallway with dirty clothes in his hands and white hair dripping on the carpeted floor.

Wonderful.

“For fuck’s sake Zuku, just tell me already!” Ignore, ignore. Keep walking.

“It’s not that hard, I already know what you were doing! Just tell me why! Is that too much to ask for? A simple explanation?!” Don’t show emotion, don’t give anything away.

“ZUKU! LOOK AT ME!” Kacchan doesn’t hold back this time, grabbing him by the shoulder and slamming him into the wall, wings pushed out from the sudden impact. He doesn’t let go this time, either, hot hand keeping Izuku pinned against the wall.

And for the first time in years.

Izuku snaps.

“SHUT UP!” Kacchan jerks back, eyes wide and just a tad bit scared. Izuku wants to calm down, wants to tamper the anger in his chest, but it’s been three days since his last spar, and everything’s been building up without end, and he can’t just put a lid on it like he usually does.

“YOU WANT TO KNOW WHY? You want to know why I went out there and fought like a dog in a ring full of animals? WELL HOW ABOUT YOU THINK FOR ONCE IN YOUR LIFE?! Maybe, I don’t know, I WANTED TO FUCKING DIE!” Izuku watches as the blood drains from his brothers face, mind screaming at him to stop but mouth moving without his permission.

“Maybe I was tired of waking up every time my wings gave out in the air. Maybe I was tired of seeing my mom in every single shadow. Maybe I was tired of watching people praise a murderer like he’s some sort of god who can do no wrong. MAYBE I WAS TIRED OF WATCHING YOU IGNORE THE BLOOD DRIPPING DOWN MY SKIN AS YOU TRAINED TO BE THE VERY THING THAT DESTROYED MY LIFE!”

Somewhere in the background, Izuku can see that Kacchan is trembling, but it doesn’t register over the rage flooding his senses.

“I didn’t... I wasn’t ignoring it. We were supposed to be heroes together.” He says it softly, eyes shocked and sad, tears welling up in the corners.

“Well, you go ahead and do that, but leave me the fuck out of it.” Izuku stops there, pushing past Kacchan with a shove and locking himself in his room once again. The second the door closes, he collapses against it, wings curled around his shoulders as he struggles to steady his breathing. His chest aches, the anger simmering out as the realization of what he just said sinks in.

Damnit.

That wasn’t supposed to happen. He wasn’t supposed to break. He should have been stronger than that.

Damnit.

It takes a minute to calm his breathing, the static in his head making his eyes ache as he takes deep, controlled breaths. There’s nothing to be done now, nothing that can be done. He said things, and there’s no taking them back. No matter how badly he wants to.

Shit.

Kacchan avoids him after that, glancing at him with a dejected expression every time they run into each other before walking away without a word. It’s not how things are supposed to work, and it leaves Izuku feeling on edge every second of every single damn day.

At least Masaru and Mitsuki didn’t hear their argument...

Every second he spends outside of that stifling house is like a breath of fresh air. He still isn’t allowed to fly, but sparring with Eraserhead is enough to calm the static for at least a little while. And learning new techniques and fighting styles is always a pleasant addition to his day.

In thing ring, he learned how to fight dirty, but learning how to win without breaking the rules is an interesting challenge. A challenge he never thought he would have to face, not in a million years. Still, he’s enjoying himself, and he’s enjoying learning new things, so it doesn’t really matter what he thought in the past.

By the time the entrance exam comes around, Izuku has learned plenty of new techniques. He’s fought with and without his quirk, fought against robots and humans, and exercised muscles he didn’t know existed. Aizawa stops their sessions a week before the exam date, giving Izuku a list of things to do and leaving him to stare at his bedroom wall as he waits for the day to come.

According to his agreement, he will have far more freedoms when he’s a student at UA. No more chaperone, no more police car by the entrance, no more invisible line he can’t cross. He’ll be able to go where he pleases during the day, as long as he wears some stupid, high-tech bracelet that Nezu made. It’s a reasonable compromise to him.

And hey, he can fly wherever he wants on school grounds! And fight! Apparently, he can spar with other students if they agree to train with him. It requires a teacher willing to supervise, but according to his research, it’s a normal enough thing to the point that there are often a few different teachers available at any given time. He’ll just need to find a student willing to train with him, and he’ll be good to go.

How he’ll find said student? He has no idea, but he’ll cross that bridge when he comes to it.

For now, he needs to focus on getting through this exam. If he slacks off, Nezu will definitely notice, but that doesn’t mean he needs to push himself past his limits. It simply means that Nezu knows his capabilities and probably already knows approximately what his score will be.

Thankfully, Nezu doesn’t have the ability to know everything about every single examine, so that means there’s a chance someone with a more suitable quirk will come along and blow the exam out of the park. And Izuku has reason to believe Kacchan will be one of those people.

UA is the hero school, which means all kinds of people will be taking the exam. People with strong quirks, people who have been training for this their whole lives. Izuku is a decent fighter, but he’s no hero. If the exam ends up being a rescue scenario or anything he hasn’t practiced, then there’s a definite chance that someone in the crowd will have a higher aptitude than him.

Izuku wakes up the day of the exam with that thought sitting comfortably in the front of his mind. Kacchan’s attendance alone might be enough to win this bet, and there’s probably plenty more examines just like him. Maybe not with a quirk quite as strong, but with plenty of training in all sorts of heroic professions.

It’s fine, he should be fine.

Kacchan is halfway finished with his food by the time Izuku finally comes down for breakfast, scoffing down a plate of rice and grilled fish like there’s no tomorrow. Izuku doesn’t react, sitting down with his own plate on the sole stool they bought just for him. Breakfast is good, simple, normal. He eats slowly, glancing at the time once before relaxing and chewing in peace.

He has plenty of time to prepare, almost an hour. Of course, Kacchan is already dressed and ready, just as ahead of schedule as he usually is. He’s always been like that. Going to bed early, waking up early in the morning, leaving for class early. He’s always ahead of schedule, always ready before everyone else. It’s a habit he picked up from his mother, though he often takes it even further than she does.

Izuku isn’t even halfway through his meal when Kacchan finishes eating. He watches as his friend picks up his plate and takes it to the kitchen without glancing in his direction, acting like Izuku doesn’t even exist. That’s fine, he’ll get over it eventually. Maybe.

Izuku ignores it, keeping his shoulders relaxed and finishing his own food before making his way upstairs to get dressed and try to tame his curly mop of hair. The getting dressed part isn’t too difficult, years of practice dealing with the tedious nature of pulling a shirt over his wings making it a painless ordeal.

Taming his hair? A little less painless. Literally this time. He combs it out and pushes it down and tries his best to make it cooperate, but nothing quite works, so he leaves the bathroom with possibly even more volume than he entered with. Whatever, it’s not like anyone cares what his hair looks like. They’re all focused on his overly shiny wings.

By the time Izuku makes it downstairs with his old yellow backpack and uncomfortable middle school uniform, Kacchan is already standing by the front door, waiting for him. They stand next to each other for a minute, staring at the door until Mitsuki comes around the corner with her keys.

“You ready, boys? Let’s get moving!” She’s full of energy, all sharp smiles and spiky hair. She’s like a happier version of Kacchan most days, always smiling and joking and ruffling their hair. They both follow after her as she walks to the car, not looking at each other as they move.

The drive to UA is quiet, the static in his head buzzing until he wants to tear out his hair just to get rid of it. The drive to UA is also, thankfully, very short, so he’s thankfully out of the cramped car before he actually reaches his breaking point. All his hair is intact as he steps onto the cement driveway and stares at the school entrance.

The car drives away, and he stares. Kacchan walks ahead of him, and he stares. A few people pass him, and he stares. It takes far longer than he would have liked to build up the courage to move, and by then there’s a small crowd making its way towards the building.

UA is massive, and Izuku really doesn’t want to be here. He doesn’t shake his head, because that would showcase his hesitance, so he just takes a deep breath and keeps on walking.

One issue with that. If he doesn’t have to, Izuku Midoriya doesn’t walk. He flies. And when he does walk, it’s on smooth pavement or flat concrete.

Not uneven brick.

He’s not even halfway to the building when his foot catches on the edge of one of said bricks. He stumbles and just barely manages to flap his wings before he falls flat on his face.

Which creates another issue, because instead of a gentle push, he shoots up into the air and hovers there without his wings moving in the slightest. For the first time in quite a long time, Izuku yelps, flailing around in the air as he tries to figure out what just happened.

“Oh my goodness! I am so sorry!” Izuku manages to maneuver himself so he’s able to look down, staring at a young woman who’s looking up at him with panic in her eyes. Her hands wave in the air, like she isn’t sure what to do.

The feeling is mutual.

“Okay, uh, my quirk turns off gravity for whatever I touch, maybe I count down and you catch yourself with your wings?” Okay, good, she doesn’t need to touch him again for this to work. He nods, still recovering from the shock of being shot up into the air like a damn tennis ball.

“Okay! Three, two, one, release!” Izuku just barely catches himself, flapping his wings at the last second, feet hitting the floor with a heavy thump. His ankles ache ever so slightly, head buzzing from the roller coaster of positions.

“I am so sorry, I shouldn’t have used my quirk on you without your permission! I’m so so sorry!” Izuku blinks, staring at the young girl as he tries to stay blank.

“It’s okay. Thank you for trying to help” Okay, good, that came out without too much emotion. Just keep your shoulders loose, just stay calm.

“Of course! I hope you have better luck during the exam!” She’s all bright and bubbly, and watching her smile and wave like they’re best friends kind of makes his eyes hurt, but he waves back because he’s not trying to be rude. She just smiles again and keeps on bouncing her way down the cobblestone path, seemingly just happy to be here.

Izuku waits a minute before moving himself, being extra careful to watch where he’s stepping this time. He makes it to the pavement without tripping, thankfully, and takes a second to look over the map before following the signs to his testing area.

The UA written exam is notoriously tough. Instead of a pass or fail, like most exams, it’s graded by how you do in comparison to everyone else. No examine has yet to receive a perfect score, which is saying something because there are kids with intelligence quirks who try to get into UA.

So no, Izuku isn’t expecting to get a perfect score. He’s not even expecting to get a particularly good score. He just knows that he’s above average, so he should rank high enough to ‘pass’. There’s no reason to stress about it. He’ll do his best, and if it’s not enough, then good riddance.

He doesn’t see Kacchan or the young girl in his testing room, moving to his assigned seat with a raised eyebrow because of course they would get him a stool. A few people glance at him, but that isn’t uncommon thanks to the brightly colored wings. Apparently they tend to be very distracting.

They aren’t nearly as interested when the exam starts, thirty kids staring at their tests with wide eyes and panicked expressions. Izuku scans the first page, noting that though the questions are difficult, they aren’t impossible. He finishes four out of eight pages before the questions get hard enough to make him pause, forcing him to pull up a little extra energy if he wants to get anymore progress.

Time passes quickly, and he ends up spending a solid three minutes staring at the last question before finally mentally shaking himself out of it and leaving it blank so he can check the rest of his answers. He only finds seven errors, though there’s likely some that he missed. That’s fine, he tried his best. And as a final hoora, he writes something in the last slot just to say that he did.

The timer rings a few minutes after he’s finished double-checking, and he finds more than half of the examines almost crying over their tests like the world just ended. Damn, that’s a little dramatic. Granted, they actually want to get in. He’s doing this because he’s contractually obligated.

That does remove some of the stress factor.

He turns his work in with a nod, walking out of the testing room and making his way towards the practical exam presentation without a second glance. There’s a steady stream of people making their way down the hallway, more than half of them going the same direction. Makes sense. The hero course is what UA is known for.

The presentation room is massive, meant to hold every single hero course examine. The seats are sectioned by school, which means he’ll be sitting next to Kacchan. Great, just amazing, just what he needed.

People flood into the room, filling the seats one after another as each group is released from their exams. Nezu must have made it so that the exams ended at different times to keep the hallways from becoming too crowded. A simple fix to an annoying problem.

Which means Izuku has a few minutes to relax before Kacchan enters the room and sits down next to him without a single sound. He’s still refusing to look Izuku in the eye, staring at the empty stage with his usual resting bitch face. Is it a resting bitch face if he’s actually just angry? Who knows.

They have to wait a few more minutes before everyone is in the room, then a few more before the lights are shut off and the presentation starts.

Present Mic, or as some fans made up, Presentation Michael. Of course he would be doing the damn presentation. He’s loud and energetic and Izuku feels like his energy is draining despite the fact that he’s nowhere near the hero. Man, talk about being an extrovert.

Whatever, better to focus on the presentation. Okay, what are they doing.

...

Robots.

Of fucking course it’s robots.

God, this is stupid.

An exam catering to destructive quirks, he really thought Nezu would be different. Such a shame.

Either way, he may be good at fighting, but he’s no master at destroying robots with his bare hands. This is good, he probably won’t get a ton of points if this is all there is to it. People like Bakugou will get tons of points.

Granted, he could probably get quite a few more if he used his fire, but that’s not something he’s planning on doing anytime soon. As far as he’s aware, Nezu doesn’t know that he can manipulate flame, so he should be safe to just rip apart a few robots with his hands and move on.

Not even a second after he relaxes in the knowledge that he’s going to lose, a blue-haired examine interrupts the incomplete presentation to yell about a factor that Mic was obviously about to get to. Rude.

Even so, zero pointer, interesting. There’s definitely something more to that detail. Actually, now that he thinks about it, there’s probably more to this exam as a whole.

He thinks about that for the rest of the presentation. Keeps thinking about it as he changes into his gym clothes. Then, even more as he rides a bus to a giant gate and then as he looks around the group. He keeps thinking about it until he sees the young girl from before.

She’s standing by the edge, psyching herself up with sharp movements and deep breaths. Something in his chest shifts when he notices the shaking of her hands. She’s nervous and visibly struggling to stay on track. Maybe a distraction will help.

Only, he doesn’t even get five steps towards her before there’s a hand grabbing his shoulder, keeping him from moving forwards.

Izuku freezes for less than a second before relaxing, pushing down the urge to twist the arm until it snaps. That’s not a thing that’s allowed in schools, it breaks more than one rule Eraserhead drilled into his head. Maybe something a little less extreme? A dislocation?

No, he’s not allowed to do any fighting outside of spars.

Calm down.

It feels like forever before he’s pushed down the urge to fight, but it’s probably been barely a couple seconds. He turns to face his opponent, almost sneering when he sees the blue-haired boy from the presentation.

Great, a stuck-up snob. Just what he needed.

“That girl appears to be trying to focus. What are you doing here? Are you taking the entrance exam to interfere with everyone else?” It takes everything in him to stay neutral at that, disbelief welling up inside him at the sheer ridiculousness of that statement. This idiot sounds so sure of himself, like he’s stating the obvious.

Okay, stay calm, don’t snap. How does he respond to that? Does he respond at all?

The hand on his shoulder grows tenser the longer he stares at blue boy without speaking, until it’s finally lowered to the idiot’s side. Izuku doesn’t look away though, trying to figure out how to respond without giving in to the urge to bite.

He’s not allowed to bite. Even in spars.

The silence is thick, and blue boy obviously doesn’t like it, struggling to keep eye contact as Izuku continues to debate the merits of saying something. Maybe he should just walk away.

“Okay, start!” Or, he could just do that.

Izuku doesn’t hesitate, bolting into the air and rushing into the testing area. He’s a little confused when no one else starts with him, but that’s fine. He’s not allowed to go slower now that he’s started, that would lose him the bet.

Okay, there are the machines.

For the next five minutes, Izuku does his best to tear apart each robot he comes across. Soon enough, people start pouring in, people with more combative quirks, rushing past him and stealing his kills.

But with those people comes another group.

The idiots.

Izuku saves three people from being crushed before he realizes what’s happening.

Of course there would be a separate points system. Of course there would be another way in. They reward people for helping others, something a hero would do.

For a second, Izuku wants to just keep doing what he started, but then he notices a camera in the corner and realizes that Nezu is probably fully aware that he figured it out.

Damnit. Now he has to take advantage of the system. Anything else would be considered cheating.

Hopefully other people notice. Other people will notice, right?

Either way, he flips off a camera before shifting his priorities, keeping idiots out of the line of fire and dragging bodies out of fake rubble. He does this over and over as the test goes on until there’s maybe five minutes left, and he’s about ready to stop from the annoyance of helping people that don’t want his help.

That’s when he remembers the zero pointer.

Why? Well, probably because it’s the size of fucking Godzilla and right in front of him.

He stands there for a second, staring at the massive machine with wide eyes and raised eyebrows. People are running away, screaming, and shouting, and being annoying and stupid. He’s about to turn away himself when he hears something.

Someone.

Calling for help.

...

Whelp, might as well get some more points.

He sees blue boy run past as he searches for the source of the noise, only finding it when most of the examines are gone. There, right in the path of the zero pointer.

The girl he talked to at the entrance.

Guess it’s time to talk to her some more.

“Hey. I’m here, I’ll get you out.” The words probably don’t sound particularly reassuring considering the lack of emotion, but she still looks up at him with hope in her eyes. He tries to smile at her, but it probably doesn’t look all that nice because it feels awkward as hell.

Whatever, she seems happy that he’s here.

Okay, helping her out.

“My name’s Midoriya, what’s yours?”

“Uraraka, I can’t use my quirk.” Figures.

It takes him a minute to figure out what’s going on, the fake cement not budging in the slightest as he tries to move it. He has to look underneath to notice the tangle of metal pipes, sighing and letting himself look a little annoyed before forcing the calm to come back.

It takes him another minute to untangle the pipes, arms tossing the cement to the side. Uraraka looks like she’s about to cry with happiness, letting him lift her off the ground.

That happiness dissipates when she tries to put pressure on her leg and yelps in pain. Izuku forces himself to stay neutral, looking at the very close, massive robot before sighing once more and moving to look at Uraraka.

“I’m going to try and shut it down, I promise I’ll come grab you if it doesn’t work. Though I doubt they’ll let it crush you, okay?” She nods, more than a little pale as he gently sets her on the ground.

It takes him seconds to fly up to the robot’s neck, green eyes scanning the mess of wires before finding one that’s a different color from all the others.

Well, might as well try it.

The wire is thick and takes quite a bit of effort to break, but it does break. This time he sighs in relief, watching as the robot shuts down, slouching in place but staying upright. Good, he didn’t make things worse. He was worried it would fall down and crush everyone for a second.

“Time’s up!” Izuku jolts, spinning around in the air to see Present Mic standing above the field with his hand raised high. Right, the exam, that thing he was supposed to be doing. Well, he tried his best. And if shutting down the zero pointer lost him some points, then good riddance.

Speaking of stopping the zero pointer.

He looks down, zeroing in on Uraraka, who is still sitting on the ground where he left her. Damn, the robot got pretty close. Nezu would have stopped it, right?

...

Yea, let’s just say he would have stopped it.

Izuku flies down, gently landing next to her before leaning over and offering her a hand.

“We should get you medical attention. Here, wrap your arm around my neck.” She doesn’t complain, seemingly in shock with her eyes wide and her mouth hanging open. Her arm wraps firmly around his shoulder, making it fairly easy to hold up most of her weight.

And if he uses his wings to keep them balanced, well, no one can blame him for using every tool at his disposal.

By the time they make it to the rest of the examines, Uraraka looks far less shocked and far more nauseous. Thankfully, Recovery Girl is already at the scene, walking around, healing everyone who needs help.

“Ma’am! My friend hurt her leg, and she overused her quirk quite a bit.” At least, that’s his assumption. There might be more going on, but he can’t know for sure.

“Okay, okay. Let me take a look at you, deary.” Izuku stays nearby as Uraraka gets treated, avoiding everyone else while trying to be as helpful as possible. Uraraka seems to appreciate it, far more relaxed than when he saw her outside the testing area.

Recovery Girl finishes treatment fairly quickly, handing her a gummy before moving on to the next person with a low grumble about how reckless teenagers are nowadays. Uraraka just smiles, a small, unsure thing, before slumping like a puppet without its strings.

“Do you feel better?” She blinks before looking up at him, almost as if she forgot he was there.

“Oh, uh, yeah. Just really tired. Thank you so much for helping. I really was useless…” Nope, that’s not a healthy line of thinking, no way is he letting that pass.

“You pushed yourself a little far, but that doesn’t mean you were useless. I bet you would have pulled through if you really needed to, and that need didn’t arise, so you just took it easy. If you want to critique yourself, work on getting stronger. No reason to put yourself down when you did your best.” She looks up at him with those same wide eyes as usual before smiling a bright smile that makes his eyes hurt just a tad.

“Thank you! You really are a good guy.”

Those words echo in his head as he leaves the exam area. They echo in his head as he rides home with a still-silent Kacchan sitting next to him. He hears those words for days after, as he texts with his new... friend? Acquaintance? Study partner?

Is he a good person?

She doesn’t know about his past. She doesn’t know that he hurt innocent people, that he did so with a smile. He helped her, but him not being a monster doesn’t mean he’s a good person.

No, he isn’t a good person.

A week and a half later, they get the exam results. Izuku watches Kacchan go to open it in his room and watches as he comes out ten minutes later with a strange look on his face. ‘I got in’, he says, before turning back around and locking himself in his room.

Izuku sighs before picking up his own letter and walking to his own room and opening it on his own desk. He watches as a small disk falls out, watches as a screen pops up, watches as Nezu tells him about all the details.

“DAMN IT!”

Masaru and Mitsuki flinch at the sudden shout, looking up at the stairs in confusion before shrugging and continuing to eat their dinner.

Chapter Text

Seventy-six rescue points.

The highest scoring examine received seventy-six rescue points, and Uraraka Ochaco has his phone number like it’s no big deal. She texts him every other day, like it’s no big deal. She stares at the exam results with her eyes open wide because he somehow earned almost one hundred points for an exam that averages at sixty-one, like it’s no big deal.

Not for the first time, Uraraka wonders who this kid is. He looks lithe and nimble and dances around danger like a ballerina on a stage, but he’s strong enough to rip apart cords the size of Ochaco's waist in seconds. His wings are colorful and bright, and his white hair shines in the light, but he shows barely any emotion and talks with the deadest tone she’s ever heard.

He’s a paradox, an enigma, a complex question she can’t help but want to explore. And he doesn’t seem all that annoyed when she texts him, so there’s no reason to stop now.

The day after they get the exam results, Midoriya congratulates her for getting fourth place. He’s oddly quiet about his own achievement, so she congratulates him for getting in and leaves it at that. His response is oddly dismissive, but that might be how he usually is, so she doesn’t read too much into it.

The day after that, she finally builds up the courage to ask for his gym routine. For a solid five minutes, she’s left clutching the edge of her bed as dots appear and disappear on her screen over and over. It’s more than a little stressful, especially when the dots disappear for a solid two minutes before a picture pops up in the chat.

Yay! Success!

She thanks him profusely and studies the extensive plan over and over until her eyes are burning because she forgot to put in her contacts. It isn’t until she finally downloads the image and goes back to the chat that she realizes he sent a message after her response.

Whoops.

She shakes her head and reaches over to her desk for the backup glasses she tends to leave in the corner but never uses. Of course, they’re overly dusty, forcing her to grab the glasses wipes and rub at the lenses with a sigh before she’s finally able to put them on and read the message.

“I can make you a personalized one if you want. I have a lot of free time.” She freezes, reading it a second time and then a third with her mouth open wide in shock. A personalized training plan?! With the same quality as the one she just read?!

How much is he charging?

“That would be amazing!!! How much would it cost?” Is that too accusatory? Is it rude to assume he’s charging her? She’s looked up how to get these, they cost a ton! It would make sense that he’s charging at least a little, right?

But he didn’t say anything about money, so there’s that...

Oh, there’s no point in overthinking it.

She hits send with a grimace, tensing more each second he doesn’t respond. Then, the dots appear again, and she tenses even more until a message finally pops up.

“No charge. Just join me for training some time and we’ll be even.” !!! No charge and a training buddy!!! Oh this is just too good to be true, but Ochaco isn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth so hell yea.

“You have a deal!” Oh man, this is awesome. At this rate, she’ll already have a friend at UA before classes even start! And a training buddy! A really strong training buddy who managed to tear apart twenty two points worth of robots with his bare hands! Now that’s impressive.

Over the next three days, Midoriya asks her a myriad of questions about every little part of her life. From her daily schedule to how much weight she can lift in different exercises and how many reps she can do at specific weights, and a bunch of other stuff she never would have thought about on her own. He even asks her what her favorite fruits are, which is a little unexpected.

One week after it all starts, she gets a package in the mail full of everything he told her to put on her amazon wishlist. Apparently, she was a little too transparent about her financial status...

Whatever, she’ll always take free stuff.

The protein powder tastes amazing and it’s a struggle to drag the box of weights into her room, but she manages with only one stubbed toe to tell the tale. Her favorite gift is the weighted wrist and ankle bands, making it so she can exercise even while helping her father at work. She wears them as long as she’s allowed, falling to sleep with sore muscles and a wide smile.

The plan he ends up giving her is so in depth, so specific, she momentarily wonders if he’s been stalking her to find out all that information. Then she remembers that she willingly gave up said information to a literal stranger and promptly ignores how stupid that was. She’s not dead yet, and she has a killer routine as a reward for her stupidity, so win win for her.

At the end of week two, Midoriya finally calls on her to cash in on his payment. Apparently, his sparing partner is busy, and he doesn’t want to spar with his only other friend, so he’s coming to her with his request. He’s very insistent that it’s a request, not a demand, but she’s more than a little excited to finally see how strong he is, so she agrees without a hint of hesitation.

Three days later, she’s walking to the train station with her dad right behind her, asking her all sorts of questions about Midoriya. He’s not too thrilled about how little she knows this young boy, but feels slightly less concerned when he learns that Midoriya was accepted into UA. Whatever, she’ll take it.

They get to the gym about ten minutes before the meeting time, standing awkwardly outside because the doors won’t open. She once again questions who Midoriya is when an older man enters the building by swiping what looks like a hero license.

What is this place? Is it for heroes only? If so, why does Midoriya have access to it?

“Oh, you’re early.” She doesn’t startle, she doesn’t. Well, she jerks a little, but she doesn’t squeak or anything!

There, standing to the side, is Midoriya in a frankly hilarious outfit. The compression wear and gym shorts are normal, but the shirt with ‘exercise shirt’ written on the front in Kanji almost makes her laugh right then and there. Thankfully, she has more self control than that, and just forces herself to look into his eyes and smile.

“Hi! Hello! Uh, this is my dad. Dad, this is Midoriya!” She steps to the side, glancing between them with a smile.

“Nice to meet you, sir.” Midoriya says it with a completely blank face, no emotion whatsoever. She can tell that her dad is immediately suspicious, looking at her new friend with a critical expression as he shakes Midoriya’s outstretched hand.

“My daughter tells me you got into the hero course at UA.” Ochaco immediately notices something shift in Midoriya’s expression. She’s not sure what, she just knows something’s different.

“Yes sir.” No mention of his first place, no bragging, no pride, just a blank expression and loose shoulders.

For some reason, her dad doesn’t notice the shift, relaxing a little before pulling back his hand. Interesting.

“Very good. I assume you won’t protest to me hanging out while you train?” It’s more a statement than a question, but Midoriya doesn’t react. Is he usually like this?

“That should be fine. Do you have your ID on you?” Right, Midoriya told her to bring her ID. Is that how they get into the gym or something?

“Yes, I do.” Midoriya nods and turns to look at something over his shoulder. She tries to find what he’s looking at, but he turns back towards them before she can see anything. Whatever, it’s probably not important.

Midoriya doesn’t talk, moving towards the entrance and pulling out a strange, metal looking card. He swipes it in the card reader and holds the door open for them, bowing ever so slightly. Ochaco can tell that her dad approves, a new edge to his gaze that most people probably wouldn’t recognize.

Good, this’ll be easier if he approves of her new friend.

There’s a second door right inside the first, hidden by the blackout windows that kept them from looking inside. He types in a code on a keypad to open this one, but holds it open just like the last one. They step inside and are immediately greeted by a desk with one person behind it and another, rather scary looking woman standing next to it.

“Midoriya. Eraserhead’s busy, I take it?” The receptionist scrutinizes them with a sharp look in their eye, as if trying to find a flaw. Ochaco feels more than a little nervous beneath their gaze, but her dad stands tall like it’s no big deal.

“He’s probably not coming back for a while. Something about two tons of paperwork he can’t push on an intern.” There’s a second of silence before the receptionist turns back to Midoriya with a wide smile.

“Sounds like him. Do you two have your IDs? I’ll need to hold on to them if you want to enter.” Okay, right, this is fine. That’s not abnormal, other gyms do that if you don’t have a membership. “And I’ll need to scan them into the system, just to check your criminal history.”

... That’s a little less normal, but okay.

Ochaco manages a fairly normal smile and rummages through her small bag to pull out her ID. Her dad only has to pull out his wallet, and she can’t help but be jealous of his massive pockets. The receptionist takes their IDs with a smile, putting them on a strange-looking scanner before typing away on their computer. They stand like that for a few minutes before they nod and turn back towards them.

“You guys check out. Have a good session!” And with that, Midoriya turns away and walks through a third set of doors before they even have time to respond, leaving them to wave in the receptionist’s direction before jerking after him.

The minute she steps through the doors, Ochaco wonders if this is what rich people get to experience on a daily basis.

She’s been to gyms before, old machines and sweaty people galore. She’s seen all sorts of setups, and none of them compare to this. All the machines are black and shiny, all the people are fit and focused on their workouts, the building is massive and extraordinarily clean. There are rooms and sections and all sorts of different things to choose from.

And Midoriya completely ignores it all and leads them to the back of the building with a firm familiarity that makes her follow him without question. They walk and walk until they’re stepping into a large room covered from floor to ceiling with firm mats.

The minute they’re all inside, Midoriya turns around and closes the door like he owns the room. She glances at her dad before looking a little closer at the mats, noticing a somewhat familiar logo on the corner. Hatsume Industries, very interesting.

“We can exercise in here, and we can spar if you want to. No quirks though, not without hero oversight.” Right, public quirk use is technically illegal. She uses her quirk so much to help her dad with work, she often forgets that her work license only applies to very specific situations.

Situations that definitely do not include fighting.

“Sounds like a plan! That good dad?” She turns to look at him, smiling in question as she waits for his permission to move on without him.

“Have at it. I’m not even here.” Sweet, this is gonna be awesome.

She turns back around with a wide smile, two thumbs in the air as she hops over to where Midoriya is already stretching. They spend about five minutes stretching, then ten warming up, before Midoriya drops to the floor and starts bodyweight exercises.

Over the next hour, Ochaco quickly learns why he offered to make her a personalized training plan.

She may be fit, but Midoriya is on a whole other level of strong. He does some extremely impressive movements and twists and turns like fluid, each exercise absolutely murdering her body. Not even ten minutes in, she’s already modifying the exercises, doing what she can to stay sane while her body screams in protest.

When the hour is finally over, she collapses onto the padded floor, panting and wiping sweat off her brow with the towel Midoriya threw her way. Midoriya, who’s walking around like he didn’t just completely destroy her perception of fitness.

He’s sweating and panting, but his face is still blank and his wings are completely relaxed. She knows she saw him exercising his wings, so how is he holding them up without issue after all that?! Man, talk about intense.

She hasn’t rested more than five minutes before Midoriya is metaphorically dragging her back up to do a cool down. Thankfully, it’s a very easy cool down, and she actually feels marginally better after completing it. Her dad is still sitting in the corner of the room, doing something on his phone, completely ignoring the fact that she feels like she’s about to die.

“Want to try sparing?” Holy shit, he’s still up for that? How is he still up for that?!

Well, she’s no quitter, so here goes nothing.

“Have at it, though I’ll probably be useless.” He just nods and walks to the center of the room, settling into a stance and looking far too comfortable while doing so. He’s been trained, and by the looks of it, by a professional.

She’s definitely not going to get even close to winning.

The first round mostly involves her trying to copy his stance and slowly circling each other until she tries to attack and gets redirected right onto her behind. It’s almost humiliating, but Midoriya doesn’t say enough for it to be truly embarrassing. Nope, he just goes back into his stance and waits for her to get back up.

This happens three times before she clocks what he’s doing and manages to go a few more seconds before ending up on her back. This happens two more times before she finds a way through that and this time she ends up stumbling back without falling down! Go her!

“Okay, how about I teach you some basics first?” Oh, thank heavens, he knows how to teach.

“Sounds amazing!”

She isn’t sure how long he puts her through drills, but she feels far more confident in her stance now that she knows why she’s doing it. He also teaches her how to fall, and how to do basic punches, and how to practice footwork at home.

By the time he’s gone through all her biggest issues, her dad is starting to shift in place like he’s been sitting still for too long. Midoriya notices it before she does, almost immediately dropping their lesson and taking a step back.

“I think that’s enough for today. I’ll send you some videos with practice drills, those should help some. This will take practice though, and a lot of it.” Yea, she can tell. Still, she’ll take it.

“I’ll do my best to learn fast so we can spar for real!” For the first time ever, she’s actually able to understand Midoriya’s momentary expression. Just a sprinkle of surprise followed by the faintest smile she’s ever seen.

“I’ll hold you to that.” She smiles even wider, excited that she was able to earn even that hint of emotion.

After that, Midoriya lets her drag her dad from where he’s sitting before guiding them back out of the building. The receptionist smiles at them, and the guard barely glances in their direction. It’s a little less intimidating this time, so hopefully she’ll get used to it if she ends up coming here regularly.

They get their IDs back and Midoriya holds the door’s open for them and then they’re outside with nothing to do but go their separate ways.

“That was fun, same time day after tomorrow?” Oh sweet! She didn't even need to ask!

She glances at her dad, who nods ever so slightly, giving her permission without being too obvious.

“Sounds like a plan!” Midoriya doesn’t react this time, glancing at her dad before turning towards her.

“Okay, see you then.” He doesn’t offer a hand or anything, bowing and turning to walk away.

“See you then!” She waves after him, watching him go before turning to her dad with a smile.

“Told you he’s a good guy!” He smiles at her, lifting a hand to ruffle her hair.

“Yea, he acts exactly as you described him. A little strange, but doesn’t seem like a bad kid. You’ll tell me if he ever does anything weird though, right?” Of course he’d be worried about that.

“Don’t worry, I know how these things work. I’ll tell you if I see any red flags.” And hey.

It wasn’t a lie at the time.

Uraraka Ochaco is a nice young woman. She’s fairly strong for someone who hasn’t had professional training, and did far better than most when it came to keeping up during his calisthenics workout. Her work ethic is admirable, and she learns very fast.

Overall, Uraraka Ochaco is an impressive teenager, and Izuku is having trouble keeping himself at a distance.

She makes him want to try harder, makes him want to do his best despite the fact that she’s nowhere near his level of martial arts expertise. He’s been learning and fighting and practicing for years, and she’s been unable to find an instructor her family could afford until he waltzed into her life.

He’s not a professional by any standard, but he’s learned enough to know how to teach her the basics. He’s also learned enough to know that she’s practically a prodigy, picking up his ques long before he teaches her the specific moves he’s using.

He has two weeks to work with her before classes start, and he uses every second to try and get her up to speed. Other UA students probably have money, which means trainers, which means experience. She doesn’t have that privilege, so he needs to do his best to give her what her circumstances denied her.

And if he gets to train a sparing partner along the way? Well, he never claimed to be perfect.

Three days before classes start, Uraraka calls him by his last name and he slips up and tells her to use his first. He doesn’t take it back, because that would be rude, and no matter how emotionless he comes across, as he tries to avoid being negative if he can.

Which means he’s automatically upgraded to friend despite the fact that he swore he wouldn’t befriend a hero student, no matter what.

Damnit.

Whatever, it was probably a pointless endeavor from the start. He’s going to be taking classes with them for the next three years for heaven’s sake, he’s probably going to get at least somewhat close with some of them. He just never thought he would admire someone aiming to be a hero like he admires Ochaco.

It’s a strange feeling, but he can deal with strange feelings. He’s not so weak as to avoid emotion entirely, no matter how used he is to keeping a blank face.

So, he acknowledges the feeling and moves on, staring at the calendar with dread in his stomach. He’s not looking forwards to starting classes, can’t stand the thought of spending all day with a bunch of hero wannabes that have probably never been in a proper fight before.

These are kids, and their delusions of grandeur will be clashing against his hatred every single day. Ochaco is realistic with her expectations, she knows exactly what she wants. She doesn’t expect to be the number one hero, doesn’t even care about the stupid ranking system. And to top it off, she's willing to critique the system.

Ochaco will be a good hero.

Logically, he knows that there will probably be more kids like her in the class, but he also knows that there will be some who have no idea what they’re getting themselves into. He knows that there will be a few kids there solely because they bought the false advertisement that is limelight heroes.

These are kids who’ve never seen death, never seen the dark corners of heroics. He’s seen it, seen the sludge and dirt and grime. He’s been a part of it.

So, when the first day of classes comes, he wakes up with dread sitting on his chest like a heavy stone. He drags himself out of bed, staring at the wall as his alarm rings. Does he really have to do this? Does he really have to comply to this damn deal?

Yes, yes he does.

Annoying.

The uniform is fairly easy to put on, Masaru having drilled him on how to put on a tie over and over for an entire week until he could put it on in his sleep. He tries to tame his hair for the thousandth time and fails for the thousandth time, walking down to breakfast with a sigh.

Mitsuki drives them to the entrance, waving goodbye with a smile as they walk down the cobblestone path. UA is just as massive as he remembers, all tall doors and long hallways. That means Midoriya doesn’t realize that he’s in the same class as Kacchan until they’re standing outside their classroom, staring up at the oversized door.

Kacchan walks in first, the door opening to reveal a familiar student with blue hair. Great, he just had to be put in the same class as that idiot.

Izuku decides to wait outside for a bit, trying to come to terms with the new information until he sees a familiar, bubbly young woman skipping down the hallway. Ochaco, thank heavens. That means there’s at least one sane person in his class.

“Izuku, hey! You’re also in 1-A? That’s great!” She’s all smiles and high energy and just has a general air of excitement. If he had to guess, the only reason she’s not ridiculously early is because she had to take public transportation. Either way, she’s here now, so he can walk in with her and hope that the people inside ignore him and pay attention to his... friend.

So, Izuku opens the door for her and steps inside, and is promptly greeted by blue boy berating Kacchan for putting his feet on the desk. Kacchan, who seems to be having a field day riling the boy up.

Izuku glances around the room while he has the chance, noting a familiar-looking boy and another young woman before moving to sit down. He doesn’t get five steps towards his desk before blue boy is on him like a damn vulture.

“You’re... Good morning! I am from Somei Private Academy. My name is Iida Tenya, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” He sounds overly stiff and far too kind compared to how he spoke at the entrance exam. He seemed rather dismissive of Izuku back then, what changed his mind?

“Midoriya Izuku.” He takes Iida’s outstretched hand but stays silent otherwise.

“Midoriya, you realized there was something more to that practical exam, didn’t you? I had no idea... I misjudged you! I hate to admit it, but you are better than me. If I had known-“ Suddenly, Izuku feels a familiar bitterness flood his chest, words spitting from his tongue before he can stop them.

“So, you only help others if you get something in return?” All five people in the room freeze, looking up at him with wide eyes as Iida opens and closes his mouth like a fish. Izuku doesn’t bother waiting for a response, moving through the room and sitting in his assigned seat.

Not even five minutes in, and he’s already having trouble keeping calm. Not a good sign.

Thankfully, Iida doesn’t try to approach him, sitting in his chair with tense shoulders as Ochaco introduces herself and finds her own seat. She glances at Izuku with something akin to worry in her eyes, but he isn’t entirely sure why. Sure he was a little harsh, but that doesn’t really mean anything.

Over the next few minutes, all sorts of people flood into the room. From loud and energetic to calm and even reserved, each one gets on his nerves in some way, shape, or form. There’s even a girl with an invisibility quirk, which makes him wonder how many people figured out the rescue point system.

It doesn’t matter how strong you are, without a physical quirk, you’d need to get a decent amount of rescue points to get in. He himself is far more fit than your average high schooler, and he never would have gotten in without rescue points.

If only he hadn’t figured out the system during the test. Just his luck.

Now and then, Izuku checks his watch before going back to acting like he’s ignoring everyone in the room. In reality, he’s scanning each student, trying to gauge their personalities and strength levels. The more he looks, the more he realizes that the majority of students are probably completely untrained. No useful muscle, lack of coordination, shitty posture.

There are a few who definitely have a history in martial arts, or at least some sort of combat training, but they are the minority. And then there’s this gross, grape looking pervert that just had to be sitting behind him. Izuku can hear every word the pervert is whispering and fully plans on taking it to Eraserhead the second he has a chance.

That chance comes far sooner than he thought it would when he notices a familiar yellow sleeping bag sneaking into the room. It’s obviously a way to gauge who’s paying attention to their surroundings, and it’s rather disappointing when Izuku notices how few people pass their first test.

“Go somewhere else if you want to play at being friends. This is the hero course, not a playground.” Most of the students yelp when Aizawa speaks, staring at him with wide eyes as he slowly crawls out of his sleeping bag.

“Okay, it took eight seconds before you were quiet. Time is limited. You kids are not rational enough.” That’s Eraserhead for you. Not that Izuku knows him particularly well. They only worked together for a couple months, after all.

“I’m your homeroom teacher, Shota Aizawa. Nice to meet you.” Izuku watches as everyone stares at Aizawa in shock, probably wondering how someone so rough looking could be a hero. Idiots, they probably don’t know a damn thing about underground heroes. Useless.

“It’s kind of sudden, but put this on and go out onto the field.” And with that, he leaves. It’s kind of funny, watching the class pause for a second before rushing to grab their gym uniforms and run after their teacher. Izuku takes his time following, not particularly interested in putting in that much energy.

Two people stay in the back with him, the familiar boy from earlier and a kid with a bird head. Izuku notes how relaxed they seem and promptly ignores their existence.

What’s waiting for them outside is not an activity he anticipated. It makes sense, but he’s obviously bluffing about expelling the person in last place. Not that he’s against expelling them, he just doesn’t base people’s success on their quirk. Izuku bets he’ll call it a hoax and then expel whoever put in the least effort.

At least he chose Kacchan for the example. Izuku isn’t particularly interested in doing well, after all. It’s not like Aizawa is allowed to expel him, not that he’d be all that disappointed with finally being able to leave. Still, he at least acts like he’s trying to get a good score, seeing as people would have questions if he purposefully flunked the test.

He has a damn wing quirk, he wouldn’t have any extra physical benefits. Though, he does force himself to fly for the high jump because not flying would get a lot of questions. He hates questions.

About halfway through, Izuku manages to finish one of the tests early and discreetly slips a piece of paper into Aizawa’s pocket before walking on to the next one without pause. Aizawa sends him a critical look before glancing at the paper and turning to look at the purple grape.

Good, he’s not ignoring it like some teachers in Izuku’s memory.

For the remaining tests, Aizawa consistently looks in the grapes direction until they’re all congregating right where they started for the final results. Minoru Mineta got last, and Izuku feels absolute glee spread through his chest when he hears the purple grape cry in despair.

This is perfect! Aizawa doesn’t need to come up with another reason. He can just uphold his promise, and that’s that!

“By the way, I was lying about the expulsion.”

...

Really, he’s doing this the dramatic route?

“It was a rational deception to draw out the upper limits of your quirks.” Haha, very funny. Izuku almost laughs when Mineta starts praising the lord for his mercy, because god is he going to be surprised.

“Of course that was a lie. It should’ve been obvious if you just thought it through.” Ah, one of the ones who came early. She’s smart, but she doesn’t know Aizawa like he does. Any moment now, any moment-

“Mineta Minoru, you’re expelled.” Izuku can't stop himself from smiling, looking off into the distance as the class explodes. He can hear the shock in their voices, can practically feel the ground vibrating as they all take in what’s happening.

“What! You said it was a lie!! Why are you expelling me!!” Izuku looks back at his teacher, curious as to what he uses as an explanation.

“You were more interested in watching your female classmates than focusing on the test. I have no interest in teaching someone who acts like a creep without shame.” Oh, damn, no punches pulled.

“Oh, come on! It’s not like-“ Izuku watches in glee as Aizawa’s capture scarf lashes out, keeping Mineta from saying another word.

“You’re expelled. You’re free to appeal my decision but I highly doubt you will succeed. Now leave before I make you leave.” The class gets awful quiet after that, watching as a terrified Mineta slinks away with his proverbial tail between his legs.

All Izuku can think about as the gross pervert walks away is how relieved his female classmates appear.

Well, maybe this will be interesting enough to last him three years.

Chapter Text

“So, you only help others if you get something in return?”

Shoto jerks his head up from where he was staring at the corner of his desk, eyes wide as he looks at the young man staring at Iida with the most blank expression he’s seen in his entire life. You’d think this Midoriya person would look annoyed, or angry, or something. Not, blank.

Okay, Shoto will admit that he tends to ignore what’s happening around him when he can get away with it, but he still keeps an ear out just in case. He’s always been trained to be aware of his surroundings, and it’s a habit not so easily broken. So yes, he mostly heard what Iida said, and it was a little tactless, but he probably didn’t mean it that way. Right?

Either way, Midoriya doesn’t give Iida time to recover or respond, walking past him without a second glance and sitting down on the only stool in the room. Right, giant wings, probably hard to sit on a regular chair. He did wonder why there was a random stool when he walked in earlier. He should have assumed it was for a student with a mutation quirk.

Is that why he has all those scars? Was he bullied?

Shoto’s eyes are drawn back towards the front when the young girl by the entrance walks towards Iida with an apologetic smile. She’s shorter than everyone else so far, but she carries herself in a manner that makes her look quite powerful, making up for her petite frame.

“So sorry about that, he’s very blunt. My name’s Uraraka Ochaco! It’s nice to meet you!” Okay, she’s friends with Midoriya. But that wasn’t just bluntness, that was disdain. No matter how emotionless he appeared, Shoto will always recognize the sound of disgust in someone’s voice. He’s heard it up close every day for years, after all.

Iida shakes off his shock fairly quickly, but Shoto can’t seem to move on from the whole situation. He tries to, tries to go back to staring at his desk, tries to ignore his surroundings as much as possible, but he always feels drawn back towards the boy with red wings and white hair like a magnet. Shoto expected all sorts of people, all sorts of personalities.

He didn’t expect someone who speaks with venom and malice like it’s a second skin.

Everyone, including him, is momentarily distracted by their teacher rising from the floor like some sort of, what was it Fuyumi called them? Zombies? Either way, he sure doesn’t look like any hero Shoto has ever seen. Probably an underground hero then, someone who avoids the spotlight like the plague. Endeavor hates underground heroes, almost made Shoto want to become one.

Then Aizawa Sensei is gone and the class is rushing after him and Shoto’s attention is brought back towards Midoriya as he waits for the crowd to thin. Midoriya stays as well, watching and waiting until there's just three of them left to grab their gym uniforms and continue down the hallway.

Midoriya looks at both him and the boy with the bird head mutation before going back to staring into the distance without a single emotion on his face. At least the other student looks tired. Midoriya doesn’t look like anything. People call Shoto emotionless, is that what he looks like? No, Fuyumi can always tell what he’s thinking, and he can’t read a single thing on this kid’s face.

Granted, he’s never been all that good at reading expressions.

...

Okay, maybe that is how he looks.

Either way, Midoriya is not what he expected when preparing to be in a room full of hero hopefuls, so he shouldn’t be blamed for his curiosity. It doesn’t matter that he’s never been this curious about someone else before. It doesn’t matter that he promised himself to stay as far away from the other students as possible. Midoriya is interesting, and Shoto is curious, and that should be fine.

So, he watches. He stands in the back, listening to their teacher talk about a random test while trying to find a hint of something in Midoriya’s expression. Midoriya keeps on looking at a small, purple boy, but there’s no emotion behind it.

They start the tests, and Shoto tries his best without using his fire, does what he can to get as high a grade as possible. His ice is useful for a multitude of these tests, and he’s not at all that worried about placing last. That means he has plenty of time to watch Midoriya do his own.

Midoriya isn’t... distracted, but he doesn’t seem all that interested in doing his best. He’s not purposefully flunking, but it’s obvious he could do better if he wanted to. It’s strange, he’s strange, and he keeps that blank face and those loose shoulders through the whole thing.

Then, Shoto just barely notices Midoriya slip something into their teacher’s pocket.

What was that? Do they know eachother? There’s no familial resemblance, and Aizawa Sensei doesn’t have any sign of a mutant type quirk. Maybe a legal guardian? Is Midoriya adopted? That could work, their Sensei does appear to take whatever is in the note seriously.

And that note must have been about the purple kid because suddenly, Sensei is watching him as well. What did purple kid do? Well, Shoto isn’t interested in him, so he might as well continue to look at Midoriya.

By the time they’re finished with all the tests, well, nothing’s changed. Midoriya stands near the back, staring at the screen. Shoto managed to get second, and Midoriya got ninth, so there’s nothing surprising there. Shoto glances at the last place and ignores the cries of the purple kid because, again, he’s not interested in Mineta.

But then something changes.

Midoriya shows an emotion.

At first, it’s just the quirk of an eyebrow, but then Mineta is suddenly being expelled, and, just for a second, Midoriya looks at the kid with glee .

Shoto feels something in his chest curl back, feels himself tense. That isn’t happiness, that isn’t satisfaction, that is pure joy in the suffering of others. Midoriya looks like a god pleased with his sacrifice, bloodthirsty and ready to tear it to pieces. Shoto has seen that look before, in the eyes of villains who are about to get their way.

It disappears just as fast as it appeared, a flash that could have been written off as a trick of the light if it weren’t for the fear still hammering at Shoto’s pulse. It’s at that moment that Shoto realizes something. Whoever Midoriya is, however he acts or looks, he is dangerous.

And Shoto doesn’t think he has any plans to become a hero.

Izuku knows someone is watching him.

It took him a hot second to figure out who, considering how distracted he was by Mineta, but he figures it out eventually. The familiar-looking boy, with an unfamiliar quirk. For some reason, it feels like he should be using fire. Izuku can feel his own quirk reach out to the boy in the way it does when fighting others who use flames. So, why the ice?

Maybe it’s a quirk with two components, or with a range of uses. Either way, he’s interesting and seems to share that interest. Maybe because of what Izuku said to Iida? Maybe they’re friends? Well, either way, it’s none of Izuku’s business. Mineta is gone, his job is done, life is better than he thought it would be.

Then, he looks back at the scoreboard again and immediately wants to leave U.A. and never come back.

Fucking Todoroki Shoto, the son of the number two hero. Of course, they just had to be put in the same class. Is this some sick joke? Did Nezu set this up? What was he thinking?!

Izuku thinks he does a pretty good job of keeping his face neutral, but by god does he want to drop the charade and bite Aizawa’s head off. He must have known the class setup, and he definitely knows about who killed Izuku’s mom, so there’s no reason he shouldn’t have fixed this issue.

Okay, calm down. There’s no point in lashing out now. There’s probably a reason they set it up this way. And it’s not like Todoroki has any say in who his father is.

Maybe the kid hates his father.

He’s probably a horrible dad, considering his personality.

Yeah, let’s stick with that theory for now so his brain doesn’t implode.

“Midoriya.” Izuku doesn’t jolt, but he does turn his head a little faster than he would have liked. Aizawa is looking at him, and it takes Izuku a second to realize that all the other students are leaving. Was he really complaining about the Todoroki kid in his head long enough for Aizawa to finish?

Damn, he’s losing his touch.

“Sensei.” Aizawa looks tired, like he really doesn’t want to say what he’s about to say. He even grimaces before speaking, letting out a sigh as he starts his sentence.

“Nezu has requested your presence for the next few hours. He said, and I quote, ‘I’m sure you will be interested in what I have to say and may find joy in a few of my plans.’ Don’t ask me any questions, I don’t know anything. Got it?” He sounds far more tired than he looks, droning on before handing Izuku a map with a huff.

“Yes sir.” Aizawa simply nods and turns to follow after the class with yet another sigh, leaving Izuku to study the map for a minute before heading to the fitting rooms himself. He changes back into his uniform in the same stall he used to change out of it, hiding his unusual collection of scars and only walking out when he hears the final person leave.

The walk to Nezu’s office is a little confusing, but he doesn’t get lost. It takes him a solid fifteen minutes to wind through the empty hallways until he finally ends up right in front of a pair of extra large double doors. Just as tall as the rest of the doors, but twice as wide. Extra large indeed.

Izuku walks until he’s right in front of them and looks up at the camera, not bothering to knock just to prove that he isn’t going to play part of the stupid little student. Sure enough, the doors open and Izuku is let in to a large room with far too many couches for an office. That being two couches. Honestly, one couch would probably already be too much, but two? Way too much.

Izuku turns to the right when he’s finished staring at the furniture and finally makes eye contact with the whole reason he’s even here in the first place. He’s starting to regret that deal.

“Why, hello young Midoriya! What a pleasure to see you again! Come, come, sit.” Ah, yes, more furniture. And the smartest creature in all of Japan.

“Sir.” Izuku sits at the low backed chair placed in front of Nezu’s desk, letting his wings rest behind him when he confirms that there’s enough room. And there is enough room, barely.

“Wonderful, wonderful. Now, let’s get down to it.” Here goes nothing. “Let’s start with something that’s probably been bothering you since the end of Aizawa’s quirk apprehension test. I can confirm that Todoroki Shoto does hate his father with a passion. I can also confirm that Mineta was put in your class so you could convince Aizawa to expel him! You did wonderfully, just as I expected.”

...

Well, that answers two of his questions.

“Now, I placed Uraraka in your class because I assumed you would appreciate her presence. Was I correct?” Okay, now he’s just fishing for compliments.

“Yes, yes you were.” There’s no point in denying it, Nezu already knew the answer, after all.

“Good good. Now, about your contract. I assume you have made a decision?” Ah yes, so that’s why he was asked to bring it in. Makes sense.

“I agree on two conditions.” Nezu perks up, looking at him with anticipation. Ah, so he hasn’t anticipated Izuku's decision. That’s different.

“And what would those be?”

“I don’t need supervision to use the gym unless I’m training with someone else, and I don’t need to participate in the sports festival.” There, the dice have been rolled.

Nezu doesn’t respond at first, staring at him with black, beady eyes and painfully false cheer. Izuku waits and waits until finally, he gets an answer.

“I agree.” Izuku lets himself smile. It’s pointless to hide his emotions, so might as well relax.

“Wonderful. I’ve already written an updated form. Here you go.” Nezu takes the thick stack of papers and immediately starts to sift through them, eyes scanning the pages far faster than any normal creature could. It takes him three minutes to get through all thirty pages, paws placing it on his desk and signing the final line.

Izuku signs his name right below, essentially signing away the next three years of his life.

Nezu takes it with a smile, removes the staple, and pushes it into a machine that starts whirring and beeping without delay. Then, he crosses his paws and turns back towards Izuku with the same smile.

“Now, let us discuss your schedule.” Izuku relaxes into his chair and nods his head, ready to iron out the details.

For the next two hours, they plan and debate and throw out ideas like a proverbial Pinterest board until they have something resembling a cohesive schedule. It’s full and very intensive, but he’s had plenty of practice working around the clock. This won’t be easy, but it won’t drain him enough to have a significant effect.

He should still be able to spar when he wants, should still have the energy to train.

The second he’s finished with Nezu, he heads back to his classroom, using the trip to recenter himself until he feels more in control. That’s when his stomach reminds him that he missed lunch and that he’ll want to eat if he wants to train after class. And he does want to train, that’s one of the main reasons he chose to accept the deal, after all.

So, he slips into a stairway and pulls out his prepacked lunch and scoffs it down as fast as possible without choking. It only takes a few minutes before he's back up, shoving the bento into his bag and continuing his trek down the stairs to the right

A few minutes later, he knocks on the giant door marked 1-A and a cheerful voice answers his call. A cheerful, familiar voice. Present Mic’s voice. Just what he needed, more noise.

The second Izuku steps inside, everyone stares at him. No one speaks, but it’s obvious they want to know where he went. He’ll probably be hounded by questions when class finishes. Great, another thing he wanted to avoid.

Present Mic introduces himself as Mic and tells him that he’s their English teacher. Izuku promptly remembers that he’s almost fluent in English and answers his new teacher in his second language without hesitation. A few people raise their eyebrows, but he ignores it and moves on.

Mic looks at him with stars in his eyes and directs him back to his stool before continuing his speech for the day.

God, this is going to be tiring.

Class ends up being easy. There’s no actual classwork, and he's already missed most of the presentation, so all he needs to do is organize his syllabi in his folders and move on. Of course, his plan to move on mainly included finding a way to get to the closest gym and have at the punching bags for a couple hours.

The class decides that he’s not allowed to do that.

No, the second the final teacher leaves the room, almost half the students in the room are crowding him like he’s some sort of zoo attraction. They’re all asking where he went, if he got in trouble, if he’s some special kind of student. The redhead Izuku clocked as trans from the moment he saw his backpack, asks him if he needs legal help.

What is happening?

About thirty seconds in, Izuku has to hold back a grimace when he hears the familiar crackle pop that comes before explosions. Just great, not even a day in and Kacchan is going to be expelled for public quirk use.

“BACK UP YOU DAMN EXTRAS! HE CAN’T ANSWER ALL YOUR QUESTIONS AT ONCE, IDIOTS!” There’s the Kacchan he knows.

Thankfully, pretty much all of them listen, jerking back like they were burned. And, considering Kacchan’s quirk, they came pretty close to that. A few of them look properly embarrassed, but the read head looks like he just accidentally kicked a puppy in front of his favorite grandma. Poor kid, it’s really not that serious.

“It’s fine. I was discussing my plan with the principle, I’m here with a special program that lets me take part in multiple departments. I’m not in trouble.” They look at him with expectant faces, as if waiting for something else. He doesn’t say anything, staring at the door and hoping they go away. They, of course, do not go away.

“Oh! You weren’t here during class introductions! Let’s do that now!” Well, red head looks awfully happy now. Even so, do they have to?

“My name’s Kirishima!”

Looks like they do.

This is great.

For the next who knows how long, Kirishima points at people and has them introduce themselves and their quirk until he’s pointing at Todoroki with a smile. Todoroki, who suddenly looks like he wants to be anywhere but here. He’s obviously about ready to leave, in the middle of zipping his backpack as he looks between them and the exit. Izuku takes pity on the poor boy, not envying the fact that he’ll have to go home to Endeavor after this.

“I know, Todoroki.” Hmm, now that he thinks about it, Todoroki would definitely have trained an awful lot. Maybe...

“Would you be interested in sparing?” The momentary relief on Todoroki’s face immediately switches out to something akin to panic. Very subtle, but panic nonetheless. Did he overstep? What’s that look for?

“Uh, right now?” Maybe he has something to do after this?

“Or whenever.” Maybe he just doesn’t like that everyone’s watching them.

“I... Sure. I can spar. Do you, know where the gym is?” Okay, yeah, maybe he’s just nervous. Everyone is looking between them like they’re watching a reality tv show. Not very good for social anxiety.

“Yup, and there’s a teacher waiting by the entrance. I’m sure they’d be fine changing it to a sparing session.” Todoroki opens his mouth, but Ochaco cuts in before he can get a word out.

“Did you just leave me out of a sparing match, young man?! That is very rude. I’m coming with you.” Izuku doesn’t apologize, but she softens when he looks at her, so something must show through his expression. Ochaco is strange. She seems to always know exactly what everyone is thinking, including him. It’s a skill he envies on a daily basis.

“Who wants to come with us!”

...

He is no longer apologetic.

It takes every ounce of his energy to not groan when half of the class raises their hands with giant smiles. This was not part of his plan. In the slightest. He does not like this. And neither does Todoroki, according to his expression, but neither of them are good at backing out, apparently.

So yes, Izuku’s plan to move on was mainly just finding a way to get to the closest gym and have at the punching bags for a couple hours. And now here he is, standing in the middle of a completely different gym with twelve students surrounding him with anticipation in their eyes.

Just great.

Izuku takes a deep breath, looking at Ochaco, who smiles apologetically. Ah, she must have expected a smaller turnout. Maybe just an extra person for her to spar with. Well, too late for that now.

“Who here has martial arts training.” Everyone perks up when he speaks, six hands raising in the crowd. Izuku looks at Ochaco and she hesitantly raises her hand. That’s what he thought. She may be a lower level, but she knows her basics.

“Good. Actually, perfect. Sensei, can I set up seven mats?” Cementoss looks at him with an unreadable expression. Probably because he’s made of cement, but that doesn’t change the fact that it’s unreadable.

“Sure. Just don’t let them crush you.” Okay, perfect.

“Who here has worked with mats before.” Eight hands raise this time, and Izuku directs all but one to the mat area and has them drag their mats into position. He walks around the room a couple times before nodding and moving back to the center where everyone is huddled in a circle, waiting for him. This feels very strange.

“Okay, people who have martial arts training, over here. People who don’t, over here.” He waits for them to filter out before moving to the next phase. “One at a time, give me five details about your quirk.” Okay, time to get to the real stuff. Izuku pulls out a notebook as his classmates do as told.

It’s nice, getting back into the flow of analyzing and organizing and writing his thoughts. Their quirks are so interesting, so much better than his own. No major drawbacks, no horrible life altering effects. There are people with mutant quirks, and they’ve probably had to deal with bullying, which isn’t nice, but nothing like not being able to die.

Okay, he may be a little salty, but quirks are still cool.

And man, so many quirks in one place, so much stuff he could learn. Maybe he can just study their fights this round, spar after everyone is finished.

“Okay, I have your assignments. Mina, you’re training Asui. Ojiro, you’re training Kirishima. Sero, you’re training Kaminari. Tokoyami, you’re training Jiro. Yayorozu, you’re training Aoyama. Ochaco, you’re working with Todoroki to sharpen your skills. We’re not here to fight, we’re here to train. Start with the very basics, how to stand, how to fall, how to dodge. Trainers, how many of you know mma basics?”

Every single trainer raises their hand.

“Good. Stick with that. I don’t want half the class knowing jujitsu and the other half knowing Judo.” A few people chuckle, which was not his intention, but whatever. “Okay, you have one hour. Use it wisely.” Little do they know, he has the gym for two, but like hell is he chaperoning a class for two hours.

The next ten minutes are mostly full of people introducing themselves again and getting comfortable on their mats. Most of them are far more extroverted than him, making friends in a few minutes before moving on to the next stage. He’s glad he put Jiro and Tokoyami together, because they both completely skip the pleasantries and move on to the lesson.

This is interesting. Izuku assumed that far more of them would know martial arts, considering the fact that they got into UA somehow. Did they really just brute strength through the exam? Or did most of them figure out the points system. From what he remembers, none of them got a particularly high rescue point score, so how badly did others do to have not gotten in?

Whatever, it’s not his job to study the entrance exam. Granted, it isn't his job to go around critiquing every single student under his care, and he’s already doing that. He points out errors, helps people explain, and acts as a dummy for almost every single trainer. Only Ojiro, Yayorozu, and Todoroki don’t ask for help.

Izuku wouldn’t say that he’s happy to help, but he isn’t particularly annoyed. He’s been able to ignore the fact that they’re hero students so far, if for no other reason than to keep the peace. Again, he’s going to be here for the next three years, he’ll need to get comfortable.

The hour passes fast, and everyone looks thoroughly done when he finally rings the bell. That’s to be expected. They are all new to this, after all. The trainers have probably never even thought of training someone else before, and the students probably didn’t expect a lesson today. So, here they are, doing something new, and now they’re done. Finally.

He guides them through a quick cool down, and that’s that.

“Okay everyone, thank you for coming. Ochaco and Todoroki, I’d like to talk to you before you go. Everyone else, have a good afternoon.” All the hyper ones shout in joy and wave on their way out, but a few of them just smile and nod, and one even shakes his hand. It leaves him feeling a little icky, but now they’re gone, so that’s nice.

“Did we do something wrong?” Todoroki sounds concerned and a little fearful. Right, Endeavor. He’s probably not a fan of being called back after practice. Man, is Endeavor abusive? That would suck.

Is that what Nezu was investigating? That would be huge!

Okay, stop, not getting off track.

“No, no. I actually lied, we have the gym for two hours.” He gets four raised eyebrows for that and a critical look from Ochaco. Todoroki looks more understanding after a second, like he feels for Izuku’s need to not have a crowd of teenagers in the room. Izuku almost wants to hug the boy, glad to finally have someone who understands.

“I... I can spar.” It’s a little surprising that Todoroki responds first, but Ochaco is still looking at him with her arms crossed, like a disappointed mother. Hey, it’s not his fault she invited the whole class.

“Wonderful. Ochaco?” They stare at eachother for a bit, Todoroki fidgeting in the corner as he waits. Ochaco doesn’t look away, keeping eye contact until, finally, she sighs and lowers her arms.

“I’ll just watch you spar, my arms hurt.” Izuku nods and turns back towards Todoroki, staring at the boy for a second before turning around and walking towards the now vacant room. All the mats are back where they belong, leaning up against the wall, so they have a nice pre-painted area to fight in.

God, he’s going to have to keep himself from smiling, isn’t he? Annoying, very annoying. He did the same thing while fighting Ochaco, but this will probably be a far more serious fight.

Speaking of.

“Sensei, can we use quirks?” That seems to catch Todoroki off guard, his eyes looking back at Cementoss and widening when the hero says yes. Izuku walks forwards a little until he’s face to face with his opponent, letting his face relax ever so slightly. People seem to trust him more when he’s relaxed, and he’ll want Todoroki’s trust if he wants to spar with the boy more often.

“We don’t need to use quirks if you don’t want to.” Todoroki seems to think about it before finally relaxing a little.

“I would prefer not.” Okay, that’s fine. They can spar fine without quirks. He did that with Eraserhead a ton and had plenty of fun. Well, fun might not be the right word considering how he was pretty much just beaten into submission every other day. This should be a far more even fight.

“Okay, on start?” Todoroki settles into a stance, nodding once before focusing his gaze. It’s a fairly basic stance, but that makes sense considering the fact that neither of them know the others fighting style. Izuku decides on a basic one himself, if not a little more aggressive.

Todoroki looks at him with a strange expression before going back to the focus he had before, shifting slightly in place as if to get a more solid base. Good, he can do that all he wants.

Izuku isn’t going to be gentle, after all.

“Ochaco, be the referee?” She looks up from where she was scuffing the floor with her shoe, standing up straight and moving forwards a little.

“Sure, you guys in stance?” They both nod, taking deep breaths and narrowing in on their opponent.

Izuku waits, and shifts, and waits, and watches, and relaxes his muscles until he can’t relax any more. Just wait for it, breathe, get ready.

“Start!” Izuku doesn’t let Todoroki study him, bolting forwards with a speed earned from years of practice. He’s in his opponent’s face before Ochaco even finishes speaking, a leg reaching around to trip him up before he can figure out what’s happening.

Todoroki drops.

It’s not unexpected, Izuku’s successfully pulled off that move against opponents much more experienced than both of them. It’s a move that only works once, that he won’t be able to repeat without an elbow to the face. Still, Todoroki looks very surprised and a little put off.

“Sorry.” Ochaco chuckles, but Izuku ignores her and holds out a hand. Todoroki takes it, still looking a little on edge. Maybe he shouldn’t have done that, maybe he should have taken it slow. Well, too late now.

“That’s... fine. I should have-“

“It was our first fight, no one expects that. That’s why I did it.” Todoroki pauses with even more surprise in his expression, like he was expecting one of them to put him down. Not a good sign.

“Uh... okay. Again?” Sweet, Izuku didn’t scare him off.

“Sure.” They both back up and get back into position, and Todoroki is more sure in his stance this time, picking a defensive position instead of the neutral one from before. Izuku keeps his offensive stance, but stays a little tense. Just in case.

“Start!” This time, neither of them attack. Izuku slowly circles his opponent, watching for openings and finding none. They do that for a solid minute before he gives up and goes in with a basic attack. Todoroki parries him easily, fighting back with an equally basic attack.

Retreat, rinse, repeat.

Despite the sheer normalcy of it, it’s still a fairly good workout. Izuku finds himself focused on his breathing, but really, this all feels like no more than regular exercise. Time to mix things up.

His first step is backing up and shifting his stance, alerting Todoroki that something is about to change. He doesn’t feel all that obliged to startle his opponent again, considering the possible negative side effects, so obvious and forceful it is. Thankfully, his message is delivered successfully, his opponent shifting into a more defensive stance once again.

This is where the fun starts.

Izuku bolts, rapidly firing different attacks as Todoroki parries and retreats until they’re near the edge of the imaginary stage. At the last second, a hand tries to reach out and grab Izuku by the shoulder. It takes every ounce of his energy to not bite into the flesh, which means he’s slow and actually surprises himself when he manages to jerk back and land a kick that sends Todoroki over the edge.

They’re both panting a little harder now, staring at eachother as they recuperate. Todoroki looks less alarmed, but still nervous, like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop. Instead, Izuku bows and moves back to the center of the ‘ring’.

That nervousness lessens until he’s back in front of Izuku with determination in his eyes. Good, they’ve only just started, after all.

“Start!” Izuku doesn’t wait to attack, but keeps himself guarded. Sure enough, Todoroki finally goes on the offensive, trying to redirect Izuku’s attacks with a precision that speaks of years of practice in the art of technique. Not brawling.

Not to say it’s worse, they both have their advantages, after all. Izuku is limited here, he can’t use everything he’s been taught to exploit. Todoroki, on the other hand, is fast and lithe and practiced in the art of perfection, exactly what is required in a school sanctioned spar.

So, Izuku has his work cut out for him.

Not for the first time, he’s being forced to dodge and parry where he would usually attack and bite, and claw. He’s being forced to attack where he usually would have waited for an opening. He’s being forced to do a lot of little things he doesn’t have extensive practice doing.

And somehow, he wins every single fight.

First it’s just attacking until Todoroki is out of the ring, and when that no longer works, it’s attacking until he has Todoroki pinned to the ground. He’s sweating through his gym uniform, wings aching to be used. At one point, a hand actually tries to grab his wings, but it quickly learns that those wings are far stronger than the arms currently pinning him to the ground.

“Start!” He lets Todoroki come to him this time, waiting a solid minute before grabbing a kick and twisting Todoroki’s leg until it jerks out of his hold. Then it’s a couple punches and an attempt at a fancy ass jujitsu move he escapes by going completely limp, successfully surprising Todoroki with far too much weight and immediately butting his head against a tense shoulder.

He wins that round by tossing Todoroki over the edge of the ring like a sack of potatoes.

They fight over and over in a satisfying pattern Izuku can't help but savor.

“Okay, time.” Izuku looks up at their chaperone, blinking a couple times before standing back up from where he was wrapped around Todoroki like an anaconda around its prey. Todoroki groans, hand already halfway up, prepared to tap out for the seventh time this session.

Cementoss lets them stretch before they’re forced to leave, an overly happy Ochaco hopping next to him as they make their way out of the building. She’s not talking, though, looking between Izuku and Todoroki with something in her eye he can’t understand. That happens a lot with her, though, so he doesn’t read too much into it.

The silence stays until they’re almost at the exit, all three of them pausing and looking at eachother until Izuku finally speaks.

“Thank you, Todoroki. That was refreshing.” And it really was, even if he did win all thirteen rounds.

“I, you’re welcome.” Todoroki looks between them for a second before nodding and walking out the gate, where a fancy black car suddenly appears, picks him up, and drives away. Well then, that’s the end of that.

“That was fun! Want to walk to the bus station with me?” He looks away from the driveway, blinking a couple times before mentally shaking his head and responding.

“Sure.” Ochaco beams and starts walking, and five seconds later, she starts talking. And talking. And talking. It’s actually kind of nice, because she’s not talking about being a hero or about heroes in general, but about how cool it was to train and how cool it was to see other people train.

And, other things. Some of which he tunes out a little and simply enjoys the presence of a well rounded individual willing to critique hero society. She may not be doing so right now, but she has done so in past conversations, and it is rather nice to not have hero worship shoved into his face like a porcupine.

They reach the bus stop fairly quickly, and she thankfully just waves as she says goodbye, not bothering to attempt a hug, which he is very grateful for. He waves after her, watching as the doors close and she disappears into the city. He stands there for a minute before turning around and walking out from under the platform.

This is where he goes home and tries very hard to ignore the tightness in his chest.

And if he flies to get there? Well, that’s no one’s business other than his own.

Chapter Text

Katsuki doesn’t know what to do.

It’s not a feeling he likes, or a feeling he’s used to. He’d do anything to get rid of it, but he Doesn’t. Know. What. To. Do. He’s tried ignoring it, but every time he sees white hair or red wings, his mind reminds him of the horrible things his brother admitted.

Has Izuku always felt like this?

Did he really die while flying around the city?

Has he killed himself on purpose?

All these questions haunt his thoughts without respite, following him as he tries his damnedest to get through the day. Then the entrance exam comes, and he tries to push it aside long enough to get in. There’s anger in his chest, and he ends up destroying machines without pause until everything in sight is dead.

Some redhead says he was cool and manly, whatever that means. He doesn’t feel very manly. He feels fucking depressed. He feels like the world is ending because the one person who was supposed to always be by his side doesn’t even want to be alive.

On a base level, Katsuki knew that Izuku didn’t like heroes. On a base level, he knew Izuku was broken in more ways than one. He just never thought about it unless he was promising himself to fix things, to change Izuku’s mind. He promised a lot of things, and he’s starting to wonder if they were all lies. If he was lying to himself this whole time.

Now, here he is, staring at the exam results with a pit in his stomach.

Rescue points.

There were points you earned for being a hero, and he didn’t get a single one.

The video praises his combat ability and congratulates him on his second place, but he can’t feel happy about his accomplishments when he’s in the middle of wondering whether or not he deserves them. He’s always wanted to be a hero, always wanted to save the day. He wants to win, wants to beat the bad guy.

Zuku’s words ring through his head.

“Maybe I was tired of watching you ignore the blood dripping down my skin as you trained to be the very thing that destroyed my life!”

Is that what he’s been training for? Did Endeavor only receive combat point just like him? Did Endeavor ignore the safety of others and soak in the praise for his accomplishments? Is Katsuki on the path to killing innocent civilians in the name of public safety?

Is Katsuki on the path to killing Izuku’s mom and leaving her son to rot without repercussions?

He feels sick, venom sinking into his brain as he tries so very hard to come up with an excuse. He wanted to stay with Izuku? They could have pursued a different career together. He wanted to save people? Then why does he only ever talk about winning? He wanted to beat villains?

Is that it?

Was that his only reason for becoming a hero? To defeat villains? That’s exactly the kind of hero Izuku hates, exactly who he believes ruined his life. And he isn’t wrong, is he? Without the system that glorifies powerful quirks, Endeavor never would have become a hero, and Aunty Inko would still be alive.

There’s no excuse that works, no explanation that doesn’t taste like poison on his tongue. Not for the first time, he rushes to the toilet and stays as silent as he can as he vomits up his breakfast, acid burning his throat as he heaves until there’s nothing left.

Afterwards, he wipes his face with water and cleans out the taste of vomit with mouthwash before going downstairs and eating a second dinner. He needs to stay healthy, after all. No weight loss, no missed meals, no sleepless nights. He can’t afford it, though he isn’t entirely sure why anymore.

What’s the point? Why is he doing this? Should he give up?

No, there’s no point to that, either. He got into UA, so he might as well take advantage of the opportunity. Izuku got in, got first place at that. It’s probably part of the deal Aizawa told him about, and he’s probably not all that thrilled about it. Katsuki’s guess is that he figured out the rescue point system early on in the exam and used that to his advantage.

Might as well stay. He’ll get to be near Izuku a little longer, get to pretend for a few more years. He’ll have to decide eventually, but for now... for now, he can try his best to ignore the poison stuck in his throat.

This was not in the plan.

Okay, let’s rewind.

Before All Might burst into the room, before Aizawa told them they would have heroics as their last class, before the start of the school day. A little further, before he sparred with Todoroki, before he lead a martial arts introduction class, before he was bombarded by questions. Before, no wait, that’s it, the talk with Nezu.

Izuku was in there for a while, and they talked about all the nitty gritty details. One of those nitty gritty details was an explanation of the upcoming week’s heroics classes. It was also his chance to choose if he wants to sit out of a class or if he’ll deal with the annoyance. That means he knows what they’re doing in said classes, each and every one.

And the first day, one of the few days he was interested in, was the uniform analysis class.

Which is not whatever bullshit All Might just spouted in front of the entire class.

Speaking of, why did no one tell him All Might was going to be teaching? What the fuck? Why the hell is the number one hero teaching a high school class? And why is he deviating from the lesson plan? Does he not know the lesson plan? Yea, let’s say that.

Izuku holds in a groan and raises his hand before everyone has a chance to stand up. For some reason, they all turn to look at him without moving, like they’re waiting for him to do something dramatic. It’s weird. They were all really excited about the damn ‘battle trials’ three seconds ago.

“Yes, young... Midoriya!” Did All Might really just look at a piece of paper to find his name? That is... embarrassing.

“I have it under a good authority that the curriculum states every school must spend the first day analyzing the students’ uniform and teaching them how to make changes. Is there a reason you’re skipping that, or were you simply not informed that there was a curriculum?” Everyone freezes, turning to look at All Might with wide eyes.

All Might, who looks far more pale than he did five seconds ago. He somehow physical emotes his nervousness, which is quite the accomplishment for someone who almost always wears the exact same expression.

“Ahh! Well... Are you quite su-“

“I’m certain.” More silence, with a rather comedic cough coming from the middle of the room. Very funny Kaminari, also not the time.

“Yes... well. Off to the ground TG I guess! You may now grab your hero costumes.” Izuku tries his best to not look surprised, but he is. He’s very surprised actually, he really didn’t expect that to work. He expected to be sent to the principal, actually. That’s the whole reason he did it.

Interesting. All Might is not as cocky as he assumed.

Izuku waits for the rest of the class to grab their uniforms, which should not be called costumes for heaven’s sake. He was actually about ready to correct the hero as a final hurrah, but he didn’t have a chance before his concerns were noted and changes were put into effect. He still might correct him. If he gets pissed off enough.

One thing he notes before picking up his uniform is the fact that Kacchan looks far more relaxed now. He tensed up at the mention of battle trials, which is strange. Izuku would have thought he’d be thrilled to fight people. Granted, he thought Kacchan would jump at the chance to spar, but he didn’t join them yesterday afternoon. Mitsuki actually asked if he excluded Kacchan from the invitations when she learned why Izuku wasn’t with him.

She was very confused when Izuku said that he was invited. And honestly, so was Izuku.

Why doesn’t Kacchan want to fight? He loved hero training, absolutely lived for it. It was his dream to defeat villains and save the day. What happened, that he’d prefer uniform analysis over a battle trial? Is it the same thing that’s been making him so quiet? He still snaps at people, still shouts and yells die when he uses his quirk.

He’s just... muted. Less likely to explode. He hasn’t tried to get into a single fight yet, which is unexpected.

Seriously, what’s going on?

Izuku watches him as they walk to the changing room. He watches him as they all open their boxes, gasps and groans filling the room, disappointment and excitement, and everything in between. Izuku watches until he’s forced to drag his box into one of the stalls so he can change without unwanted attention.

Okay, time to focus on his own uniform, not the strange choices Kacchan made. His own uniform is far less flashy than everyone else’s, focused on practicality and flexibility rather than dramatics and beautiful design. It’s not like he’s going to be using it for the rest of his life. He’s just going to deal with it for three years before forgetting about its existence. Just like the rest of this school.

The second he pulls it out of the case, he already has at least four negative notes on the design. The fabric is just on the side of too stiff and the seams are less than perfect. The boots are too small and the whole uniform is unnecessarily heavy. The mask is slightly better than the rest, but still a tad bit flimsy.

Overall, it’s not great. The colors are correct though, black and dark red and just a tad bit of white in the details. It’s something he came up with during a manic induced three am research binge on underground heroes. The same episode that introduced him to Eraserhead. Of course, it’s been modified, considering the fact that he was nine years old when he came up with it, but not by a lot.

Whatever. It’s the first draft, he’ll make sure to update it soon.

Izuku steps out of the stall about fifteen minutes after stepping inside, having spent a decent amount of time trying to figure out how to put on the many moving parts. He understands why they spend an entire class analyzing them, there’s quite a lot to figure out. Quite a lot to learn. Not to mention the collection of weapons they gave him, which he did request. He just didn’t think they’d give him all of them.

They are, unfortunately, training weapons. Either dull or weak, but thankfully strong enough and sharp enough to make some sort of impact if he uses them in a spar. He would like them better if they were real, but that’s not an option for now. He’ll just request a real set if he ever takes part in an internship, and leave it at that.

Now, time to stare at Kacchan some more.

The minute he looks up from his empty case, Izuku realizes that teenagers are far dumber than he thought they were. From flashy, entirely unpractical costumy looking outfits to ever so slightly more cohesive, still costumy looking outfits, almost every single uniform is horrendous. Izuku has never seen so many horrendous designs in one room before.

And what on earth is Kirishima wearing? There’s no way that was approved by the school. It must have been some kind of error that it even got through the first stage of filtration. His entire chest is bare, not a single piece of protective gear in sight. Did they just see his quirk and ignore the possibilities? What were they thinking?? What was Kirishima thinking?!

Then he sees Kacchan and tries very hard not to show how hilarious he thinks it is. Why does he have giant, grenade looking gauntlets that must weigh a metric ton, considering the fact that they look like they’re almost solid metal? What do those do? Should Izuku be worried? Why is Kacchan staring at them like they killed his dog? Did he ask for something else?

Then Izuku looks up one more time and fails to hold in a choked laugh. A few people glance at him, but move on when faced with his usual blank face. Must have been the wind.

Todoroki’s costume, unfortunately, was not just the wind.

God, it’s bad. It’s horrible. Horrendous. Grotesque. And absolute disaster. Izuku never wants to see it again and can’t help but be endlessly amused at the same time. Half of his body is covered in ice, making him look like some sort of cyborg with daddy issues. Is it even real ice? It looks off, like it’s made of plastic.

Izuku is walking before he can stop himself, moving to stand right in front of Todoroki, which earns him a confused look. Then, he pokes the ice and almost laughs again because it is just plastic. Oh, my god, it’s just plastic. God, teenagers are so stupid.

Todoroki looks at where he was poked, then back at Izuku, expression just as unsure and uncomfortable as the day before. It feels almost like Todoroki is scared of him, which wouldn’t make sense. Izuku hasn’t done anything worth a fearful reaction, has he? Did he mess up somewhere? Where even would he have messed up?

Man, so many questions today. It’s starting to get tiring.

Instead of pushing the issue, Izuku just nods while ignoring the plastic and walks away, still struggling to keep a straight face. It was never this hard at home, where no one bothered him. It wasn’t this hard at the police station, where everything was serious. It was never this hard with Eraserhead, because his teacher doesn’t do funny.

It’s been a long time since he’s been surrounded by such amusing people, and so many of them at that. Keeping his face blank is actually starting to get a little annoying, with how often he’s forced into an internal meditation session just to stay calm. Is this what it’s like for Kacchan? Is this how hard it is to handle his anger?

Oh, great, even more questions. Whatever, people are starting to leave the fitting rooms, so he might as well follow after them.

Izuku ends up walking out with Kirishima right in front of him and Kacchan right behind, the rest of the class slowly filtering out with them. They walk a little way away and step into the building marked ‘TG-A’. Of course he isn’t ready for what’s waiting inside.

Iida, who Izuku now realizes is probably related to Ingenium, is standing in the middle of the room in a full suit of armor. It looks... not good. Izuku understands the vision, he does, but god, it’s a poor start. Okay, it’s not a horrible start, it’s just, well, bad. It’s clunky and looks like it weighs a ton and has no mobility. Iida likely needs mobility for his quirk to work, and this uniform does not have it. 

After a few seconds of staring, Izuku finally just looks away and walks over to the center of the room to stand amongst everyone. A few people look at him, a couple of them compliment his uniform, but they mostly leave him alone, which is nice. All Might hasn’t arrived, which is weird, but Izuku doesn’t really care what happens between now and when everyone is ready.

So, he waits. He waits, and waits, and watches the door, and wonders where all the girls are. Not a single one has entered the building, and he didn’t see any outside the lockers, either. Is something wrong? Did someone get a botched uniform and everyone tried to chip in and help?

“Where are the rest of you?” Izuku doesn’t startle this time, calmly looking towards the back of the building and blinking when he sees Eraserhead walking towards them. Ahh, so that’s what All Might was doing, getting help. He must not know how to properly test uniforms, then... Disappointing, but not surprising.

“Your teacher is indisposed, I’ll be taking over today’s class. Now I repeat, where are the rest of you?” Izuku watches as the entire class shrinks back like they’re about to get bit. Why are they scared? It’s not like it’s their fault the girls are missing. Probably.

Well, Izuku might as well respond for them. Just to keep things moving, of course.

“They’re probably still trying on their uniforms. Maybe one of them came out-“ He doesn’t get to finish his sentence before the door is suddenly swung open, and a nervous-looking Jiro steps inside.

“So sorry for being late. Our... uh, our uniforms are kind of a disaster... Most of us had to change back into our school clothes...” Ah, he guessed correctly. But really, most of them?

That’s when Izuku notices that Jiro is wearing her uniform, which is followed by a realization he really wishes he didn’t have. God, he knew that sexism was still bad in Japan, but this has got to be a joke.

Unlike almost everyone else, Jiro’s uniform actually kind of makes sense, but it’s made of the cheapest material Izuku has ever seen. Thin and loose and unstructured and looking like something she could buy from a strip mall. And who made those headphones??? They look so... fragile.

“Uh... Sorry.” Why is she saying sorry? Oh, right, Eraserhead. Izuku turns to look at their teacher and stops when he sees the simmering anger in his gaze. Ahh, this must be a new issue, then. He doesn’t look the least bit resigned, which is what Izuku expected.

“It’s fine. Bring them in.” Jiro looks more than a little skeptical, but she still waves in the rest of the class, holding the door open as all the girls enter the building. Most of them are indeed in their school uniforms, and those who are in their hero uniforms are dealing with the exact same bullshit as Jiro.

Oh, god, Ochaco. Oh, that’s so bad. Izuku knows for a fact that her request didn’t look anything like that. She showed it to him before sending it in, after all. Sure she asked for it to be tight, but she specified that she wanted compression wear tight, not sexy bathing suit tight. And where did they come up with the heals?! She didn’t ask for heals!

What is going on?

By the time all the girls are in the building, everyone looks either really uncomfortable or really confused. It would be funny if it weren’t for the appalling lack of equality in their construction. Despite the absurd designs the boys put in, every single piece was made with at least base level quality, not deep in the depths of hell level quality. Even Izuku is getting a little mad on their behalf.

And to think All Might was going to skip this altogether. Most of the girls probably would have just sucked it up and lived with their uniforms if this change didn’t happen. Maybe even all of them, which would have been alarming. Because if these were the safe ones, what on earth do the rest of the girls have to work with?

Izuku takes a few subtle, deep breaths before walking towards where Ochaco is standing and placing himself right next to her in an attempt at moral support. She looks up at him with a somewhat relieved smile before looking back at their teacher with a grimace. Right, Aizawa still looks angry, he’s making the class uncomfortable.

Izuku looks at his teacher, waits for eye contact, and lets his mask slip to point out the nervousness of the class. Aizawa sighs and nods before walking over to the side of the building where tables have been set up.

“Boys, your assignment is to tell me what’s wrong with your uniform. And yes, all of your uniforms have issues. There are notebooks on that table, I expect at least five issues each. At least . 

Girls, I sincerely apologize on behalf of the school. We switched over to a new supplier for initial uniforms as mandated by the HPSC, and this was the result. I promise you that your uniforms will be far better when our own department fixes or remakes them for you. For now, just come show me what you have and we’ll work on a solution.” 

Good response and a good way to keep everyone calm. A proper apology and a simple solution that he’ll help them achieve. From his tone, sounds like he didn’t approve of the change in the first place. A pity that the Commission never listens to anyone but their never ending greed for power. And, of course, their pockets.

Izuku watches as the girls flock to the table, placing their cases in front of them as they wait for their turn. Izuku walks over to the second table and picks up a notebook before walking to the side and sitting on the ground with a pencil and eraser. He starts off with a rough sketch of his uniform, then the basic notes, before moving on to the analysis.

He can hear the sound of the girls talking in the background, but he’s written in far louder environments with no problem. The only annoyance starts when Kaminari looks over his shoulder for a solid five seconds before leaving, which starts a wave of people looking over his shoulder for some reason.

“Zuku, you’re mumbling again.” Izuku jolts, looking up at Kacchan in confusion. Really? Kacchan wouldn’t lie... It’s been years since he mumbled last. He thought that habit died with his mother...

Whatever, unimportant. He just needs to stop doing it, and everything should be fine.

“You’re really good at this! I coulda sworn you wouldn’t have any problems and you’re just listing them out like candy!”

...

Great, this is why he shouldn’t mumble.

“Thank you.” Please be enough, please walk away.

“Any chance you could help me out with mine? Or give me some pointers?” Oh god, pointers? Really? All these kids are dressed up in slightly better quality party city costumes and they want pointers?

He’s about to internally groan and move on when he has a realization. Maybe, he could fix things a little. Maybe, he won’t have to stare at stupid uniforms for the next three years. Well, there would probably be plenty of upgrades somewhere in there, but this way he could get rid of them now. Perfect!

“Sure. I’ll give you all some pointers.” Kaminari lights up like a Christmas tree, so unnecessarily excited for such a mundane thing. Izuku has been doing analysis for years, heroes and villains and vigilantes, and even his opponents in the ring. Analysis is like second nature by now, so the idea of a basic uniform analysis when you have all the details at your beck and call sounds like the easiest thing in the world.

The question is how he’ll help others improve. With fighting, it’s simple. It’s a lot less simple when it’s something you were never trained to do. He just kind of, figured it out as he went along. What are the basics of analysis? Well, let’s start by seeing what he’s working with.

“Show me what you have so far.” A few people have flocked around him, watching closely as he glances at Kaminari’s notebook and freezes for a few seconds before handing it back to the boy. No analysis, no questions, no answers. Just three sentences about three random things that make no sense. Okay, he’s starting before the basics, then.

Here goes nothing.

“Okay, you’ll need this later, so listen up.” Izuku flips over his notebook and opens the new first page, starting a list of things his class will need to learn. 

“How to do basic analysis. You always start off with what you know. Write down the name of what you’re analyzing, as specific as you can get. Then, write down each fact about the product that you know. I write them in sentences, some people use bullets, others get a ton of sticky notes and use those. I don’t care what you do, just get all the facts down. This is usually where you would try and find all the facts, which is a form of analyzing, but you already have all the facts written down for you in your manual.”

Before Izuku can continue, Kirishima raises his hand, the motion so obvious Izuku sees it even though he’s looking down at his notebook.

“...Kirishima?”

“Where can I find the manual?” Izuku stares at his classmate with the deadest expression he can drag up, so incredibly disappointed that he even needs to ask that question. Kirishima slowly lowers his hand, eyes flickering around the room as he tries to avoid eye contact. Eventually, Izuku gives in and answers the poor poor student, but not before making sure everyone knows how stupid that was.

“It was in the top of your case. When you opened it. Right on top of everything. You can’t miss it.” A few people chuckle, but Izuku just stares at them because he didn’t hear them answer the question, did he? They all shut up rather quickly at that and go to grab their respective manuals before coming back to surround him.

“Good. Next.”

Izuku ends up laying out each and every step of his process for the next forty minutes, eventually noticing that even the girls are listening in. He glances at Aizawa after noticing that and gets a self satisfied smirk for his troubles. Of course Aizawa would be happy. Izuku is doing his job for him, after all.

Whatever. Might as well get it over with.

After ranting about all the different types of analysis for about twenty minutes, he finally realizes that he probably said too much and stops it at that. Most of the class looks very fried, staring at their own notebooks with wide, slowly blinking eyes. They look like frogs sitting on a rock, waiting for someone to poke them. He doesn’t, because that would be weird, but he won’t lie and say he doesn’t feel the urge.

“Very good. That was a good intro to Analysis. We’ll go more in depth next year, but I suggest you start practicing now.” The class turns to look at Aizawa, confused for a second, before nodding and moving on. Man, they’re super out of it. Did he really overload them that much? It wasn’t even all the basics! It was just the intro to the basics! 

They only learned about descriptive and diagnostic analysis, not predictive or prescriptive, or any other the other more complex subtypes! He didn’t teach them about active analysis, or reactive analysis, or even how to analyze during fights when it’s most important. He didn’t even talk about how to analyze quirks! And that’s the majority of his analysis! Quirks!

Well, apparently there was a reason he took most of his life to get this good. It must have been harder than he thought it was if these kids haven’t done it at all. Maybe not, maybe they just never had a reason to get into it. But he didn’t have a reason! He just wanted to!

Okay, calm down. Not knowing how to analyze isn’t a personal attack against him.

Izuku closes his notebook and stands up, walking towards the table and handing it over to Aizawa. Only, Aizawa doesn’t take it, glancing at it and then at Izuku before finally speaking.

“You can keep it. You passed with flying colors. If you have any changes you want to make, you know where to go.” And he does, because he actually has an appointment with Power Loader right after this class. This class that was supposed to be over ten minutes ago.... Whoops.

“I need to-“ Aizawa shoos him away with an eye roll.

“Yea, yea. I know. I suggest you wear your uniform, save some time.” Good idea. It’d take a solid ten minutes to get out. Better to rush and only be fifteen minutes late than change and be twenty-five. Yea, better rush.

“Thank you, sir.” Izuku bows and bolts, sliding his new notebook into the back pocket he added specifically for his notebooks. It fits perfectly, which makes him smile ever so slightly before he shakes his head and keeps on jogging. Up the stairs, up up until he’s inside and running towards class 1-H. 

The support department, his first elective. Power loader is supposed to give him a basic tour and show him the different types of projects he’d be able to do on his limited schedule. Izuku stares at the door, a little unsure if he’s supposed to just knock or walk right in. Power Loader is probably alone, seeing as it’s only the second day of classes. Maybe he should just walk in.

Unfortunately, that decision blows up in his face. Literally.

Izuku just barely jumps to the side before the door is blasted off its hinges, a dark cloud of smoke and ash billowing out the now open entrance like a bomb just went off. Did a bomb just go off? Is he dreaming because he’s dead?

“Oh, not my baby! That one was so close! Oh wait, there’s a person out here. Hey Sensei! There’s a person out here!”

...

What the fuck?

Chapter Text

Izuku stares at the girl standing in front of him, eyes wide and shoulders tense as he waits for some sort of explanation. She’s covered in soot and her clothes are slightly charred, more than a few holes scattered in random places that prove that it’s not a styling choice. Her overalls are the only thing completely intact, which is proof of their quality because they’re just as dirty as everything else.

“Hey Sensei! There’s a person out here!” Izuku follows her line of sight, watching as a coughing Power Loader walks out of the lab with a hand waving in front of his face. He looks more than a little exhausted, staring at the girl with such annoyance Izuku wonders if she’s even allowed to be here.

“Hatsume I swear to god. The only reason I allowed you to stay was because I thought you would get along with Midoriya, not so you could destroy my lab! Hello Midoriya. So sorry, please give me a second. You better clean this up before you try again. Or even better, clean up and stop working on unauthorized projects!”

Izuku watches with curiosity as Power Loader talks to his student and then watches the student as she smiles a bright smile like she wasn’t just berated by her teacher. This is... a strange person.

Wait.

Hatsume?

“Are you Hatsume Eika’s daughter?” The girl spins around to face him, her smile somehow even wider.

“Yup! That’s my mom! Not a lot of people know her full name. Where’d you find it?” She looks a little... unstable. A little crazy.

“I met her at the Support Tech Expo seven years ago. She showed me the new mats she was working on and gave me a taser. It was a very interesting experience.” And she looked just like Hatsume looks right now. Just a little crazy, just a little unstable.

Hatsume stares at him with an intense gaze for a few seconds, smile still plastered on her face as Izuku waits for her to speak. Only, instead of speaking, she walks up to him, grabs his arm and drags him into the lab.

“Hatsume! That’s not how you act around other people!” Power Loader is ignored, but Izuku doesn’t mind all that much. She’s not acting aggressive or pulling too hard, more guiding him through the mess of a room until they reach the back area to a desk that’s a complete disaster compared to all the others.

She stops right in front of it and points at a strange contraption in the center before finally speaking.

“That’s a prototype for a larger model. It’s supposed to hover over the ground. What’s wrong with it?” Izuku stares at her for a second, then at the prototype before shrugging and flipping down the protective visor attached to his hero uniform. He leans in, using a pair of pliers to poke around until he can get a good idea of what everything does.

It’s complex, and nothing he could ever make, but he’s seen similar projects before and there’s only two things different. Maybe...

“This was supposed to go here, and this needs to be plugged in here. Oh, and the casing is missing a hole here.” Hatsume doesn’t respond, snatching it out of his hands and quickly imputing all his suggestions. He watches as she works like a well oiled machine, fast and precises and focused. It’s impressive and tells him all he needs to know about why she looks a little insane.

This, is a mad genius.

And Power Loader really has his work cut out for him.

“Done. Now we test it.” Hatsume places it back on the desk and presses a few buttons, both of them watching closely as it boots up and slowly lifts off the table. For the next ten seconds, they hold their breath as they watch it hover, waiting for something to go wrong. Somehow, it stays hovering, second after second until Hatsume presses another button and it lowers back to the table.

She looks at him with her widest smile yet, reaching up to ruffle his hair before turning towards Power Loader with her thumb up.

“I like him! I hereby request he be appointed as my lab partner.” Power Loader groans, hunching over in what looks like defeat.

“I already told you, it needs to be someone from this class. Midoriya isn’t a support student. He’s here for a demonstration, meaning one class. He doesn’t have enough time to work with you on all the assignments you’ll need a lab partner for.” Huh, this is interesting. Izuku just guessed about the prototype, he doesn’t have any experience working with support equipment.

But he can’t lie, it does sound far more interesting than hero work.

“I can do most of the work and he can just help me when he’s free! I’ll teach him everything I know.” She’d be willing to take that much time out of her day? To help a stranger? What does she see in him? There’s probably plenty of smart people in this class, and they probably all have experience with support equipment.

Curious. Very curious.

“Hatsume, I already said you need-“

“I’d be willing to try.” Two heads jerk towards him, one surprised and the other full of joy. Power loader looks very caught off guard, like he was expecting anything but Izuku agreeing to the request. It makes sense, Izuku is very busy after all. He has three other electives on top of hero class, but he can choose to leave out some things if he so wishes.

Either way, it’s his decision. Well, maybe. Power Loader will need to approve it since Hatsume should technically be working with another support course student. So, yeah, not entirely his decision. But if Izuku talks to Nezu, then maybe he can get a program set up.

Hatsume skips over to him, holding out a hand with a wide smile. “Then it’s a deal! We’ll work out the details later!” Izuku shakes her hand and then stares as she grabs some cleaning supplies and walks towards the entrance. He watches her go, only turning to Power Loader when she’s out of sight.

Power Loader, who looks very, very tired.

“Sorry. It sounds interesting.” That earns a quirked eyebrow and a look of someone who knows just a little too much.

“More interesting than heroics?” Izuku tenses a little, but doesn’t respond, staring at the small prototype he can’t help but feel endlessly captivated by. Power Loader just sighs and lets his shoulders droop, grabbing a pair of gloves off his waistband and handing them over.

“Welcome to the club, Midoriya.”

Izuku doesn’t expect Nezu to give in easily. The principal put him in the hero course for a reason, which would imply he would prefer Izuku stick with said hero course. Being Hatsume’s lab partner will take up time he doesn’t have, which means giving up a few other things here and there. The only core subject he doesn’t need is english, which means he’d have to take time out of one of the heroics courses.

So yes, he doesn’t expect Nezu to give in easily. Which is why he’s very confused when Nezu just smiles, sits him down, and starts creating a new schedule without a hint of resistance. No speeches, no complaints, no frustration. Nothing. 

It’s very confusing. 

They actually don’t need to spend too long on it, seeing as there was an obvious answer right in front of them. Again, Izuku doesn’t need to learn english, and Power Loader doesn’t have a class at that time. So, Izuku can use the English time slot to learn from Power Loader and then use the History of Heroics slot right after that to take part in the free lab.

It’s perfect, and very simple, and takes them maybe five minutes to fit into his schedule. Of course, every now and then after class ends he can work with Hatsume some more to try and keep up. That plus his extracurricular classes, evening tutoring, and scheduled sparring sessions leaves him staying late every single day, but he’s okay with that. It’s better than staring at his bedroom wall in an attempt to avoid his family.

He’ll take the extra work with open arms, and Nezu seems to know that without even asking. Which is normal, so Izuku isn’t surprised. And hey, he gets a better collection of classes this way. He’s never been all that interested in the History of Heroics, seeing as he knows most of it already. As a child, he spent hours taking a deep dive into all the things that happened that lead up to the current system.

He doesn’t need to learn anymore. It was dark enough the first time, and they most likely wouldn’t even get into all the details he studied. He probably knows more than his class will ever learn. Probably has seen more than they could ever imagine. He remembers the kind old librarian and the horror stories she told him when he showed an interest in Japan’s history.

He likes his new schedule. It has a better balance of what he needs, what he wants, and what he doesn’t want. The only thing he wanted beforehand was the extracurricular activities and math. This is far more agreeable.

When Nezu releases him with his new schedule, his first stop is the 1-H lab. Somehow, the door is back on its hinges and the floor isn’t covered in soot. How did she manage that? Maybe Power Loader helped her. Still impressive.

He knocks this time, waiting a second until a voice shouts for him to enter. The door doesn’t protest as he opens it, so they must have fixed the hinges before putting the door back in place. Or did they just have a whole new door available for repairs? That would be kind of funny.

“Ah, you’re back. Got an answer from Nezu?” Hatsume is working away on, something... Izuku doesn’t know what, but she’s workin. He glances at her disaster of a desk before turning back to Power Loader and handing over a piece of paper.

“This is what we worked out. You can decide what and how to teach me as long as it’s within these time slots.” Power Loader takes the paper, looking it over for a minute before putting it down on his own desk with a sigh.

“I guess that’ll work. You won’t be a full time student though, so you’ll just be working on products with Hatsume, not by yourself. You can pitch her ideas, but she’ll be the deciding factor in what you pursue. Not that she’ll turn anything down, knowing her.” Oh, he didn’t think about having his own projects. That makes sense, and he probably won’t be allowed to use support items during the sports festival.

Well, if he took part in the sports festival. Which he won’t, thank you very much.

“Sounds good. Uhm, before I go. Can you direct me to whoever upgrades hero uniforms?” That gets him a quirked eyebrow, a silent question. “The quality of the fabric is... disappointing, and the support gear even more so. I tore it while trying to study the details, and I think the visor might already be broken. ” He points at a small tear with sharp nails and then at the attachment point for the headpiece.

“Well, that should be easy enough. I’ll send it to the team, they have a fabric printer that’ll knock it out for you nice and quick and the support items already have replacements we made just in case. You can leave the chest in your locker. They’ll find it.” Izuku nods before letting go of the fabric and standing straight.

“Thank you, sir. I’ll see you tomorrow?” Power Loader looks up at Hatsume with a sigh, staring at her desk as he speaks.

“Sounds like a plan kid. Maybe you’ll be able to handle her a little better”

Well, he highly doubts that.

Izuku walks into school the next day feeling hopeful, and he doesn’t let the gaggle of reporters change that. It’s easy enough to fly over them without a second glance, leaving an annoyed Bakugou behind to face them by himself. Whatever, he’s not letting them ruin his mood.

So far, he’s been dreading each school day every morning, but he actually has something interesting to look forward to this time. Support equipment is new, intriguing, different. It’s something he’s never truly researched or studied, something he knows only the very basics about. It’s more than a little exciting, and Ochaco clocks that excitement the second she walks into the classroom. Somehow.

“Someones in a good mood!” She’s all smiles and soft edges, a kind person who really shouldn’t be interested in hanging around him. Whatever, he’ll take it. She’s the first person who hasn’t tried to change him, first person who’s taken him just the way he is.

“How the hell can you tell?” He agrees with Kaminari, because unlike most people, she’s also the first person who’s been able to consistently figure out a way to know what he’s feeling. He doesn’t know how, but she does it. Almost like a sixth sense, an emotions detector.

She ignores Kaminari’s confusion, walking up to Izuku as the final wave of students rush to their seats.

“What happened?” Izuku pauses, bag open on his desk as he wonders whether or not he should say it in front of the entire class. The class that starts homeroom in five minutes. Does he really want to deal with the questions? Well, if he tells her now, they’ll be forced to stop asking questions and will probably forget about it by the time he leaves...

Yea, now’s good.

“I’m working with Power Loader as a part time support course student.” Sure enough, half of the class perks up at the fresh gossip, looking at him with wide expectant eyes, begging for more. At least they aren’t hounding him like some people would.

“It’s part of the program I’m in.” A few people look disappointed, but most of them just nod and turn back to their desks. Ochaco doesn’t leave though, a wide smile on her face.

“That’s great! Maybe you’ll end up working on my new uniform!” He didn’t think of that. Who knows, maybe? He knows some support students work on uniforms, and Hatsume might be one of them. Though Power Loader did imply he wasn't working on them so there's that. Either way, it's not like he’d be all that involved with fixing anything anytime soon.

No, he has quite a lot to learn before that happens.

He doesn’t say that though, just nodding before sitting in his chair and pulling out his notebook. Ochaco glances at the clock and dashes for her desk, sending a quick smile in his direction before pulling out a notebook of her own. Izuku watches everyone notice the time and settle into their seat, but whispers and glances are still exchanged until Aizawa walks through the doors.

They do shut up fairly quickly when they see him, but he still grumbles under his breath about illogical children and their illogical usage of time. It’s a very Aizawa thing to say, and Izuku can hear it easily thanks to the peculiar nature of his mutation quirk.

“Good work on yesterday’s analysis. I expected far worse and received only fairly bad. I’m impressed!” Izuku can practically hear the class shudder in response to the wide smile Aizawa gifts them like a cat dropping a dead mouse on your lap. He wants to laugh, because he knows for a fact that Aizawa did that on purpose. And watching them grow even tenser when he drops the smile is like candy.

Hilarious.

“Bakugou and Iida, you did best. Kaminari... you did better than I expected.” Ouch, burn. Of course, Kaminari just smiles and wiggles in place like an excited toddler. Man, he’s so neurodivergent it hurts, not that Izuku is any different. No, he’s just better at hiding it.

“Girls, you’ll be doing the same assignment when you have your uniforms. They should be finished in a day, if our team doesn’t slack off. Considering this, the entire class will be wearing their gym uniform today. And seeing as we were going to test the uniforms today, we will be doing a different activity than planned.”

Huh, that will be interesting. Izuku was actually kind of looking forwards to testing the uniforms, but maybe they’ll come up with something not too boring. Unlikely, but he can hope.

“Anyway, let’s get down to homeroom business. Sorry about the late notice, but today, I’ll have you...” Izuku can practically taste the tension as everyone braces themselves for some new and dramatic test or activity. Izuku, fully aware of what is about to happen, can’t help but find it endlessly hilarious that Aizawa actually pauses as though to feed into the dramatics.

“decide on a class representative.” For half a second, everyone relaxes. And then, multiple people start jumping out of their seats to start campaigning. Izuku wants to wack them all on the head, but decides to ignore them instead. He ignores them as they clamor over each other, and as Iida interrupts them all and spouts some bullshit about the wonders of democracy.

Izuku ignores them until Yayorozu is handing him a slip of paper so he can write down a name. He shrugs and jolts down hers, more than a little confident in her ability. She may not have a ton of self confidence, but she’s smart and would probably benefit from leading the class. Everyone else would either not take it seriously enough, or, in Iida’s case, take it too seriously.

Then, he drops the slip into the slot, and goes back to ignoring them.

That means he’s completely clueless as to what is going on around him until Ochaco pokes his arm with a nervous smile. He looks up at her, confused, before turning to look at the front of the class and freezing when he sees the board.

Five votes. He has Five votes, for some ungodly reason. What? Who the hell would vote for him? Why the hell would anyone vote for him? What about him says class president? He ignores them, he doesn’t do his best, he keeps his distance.

He accidentally runs a group exercise on the first day of classes.

He ends up going against the number one hero in front of all his peers.

He gives an impromptu lesson on analysis and gets praised by the teacher.

Oh...

Whoops.

He looks back at Ochaco, who is looking a little apologetic. It takes a lot of energy to stay calm, annoyance bubbling up in his chest as he tries to come up with a way to get out of this. Eventually, he gives up and just blurts something out without a plan.

“I’m good.” The class just stares at him for a second until multiple people jump out of their seats while exclaiming their confusion. He stays quiet for a second, planning on waiting for them to shut up but running out of patience and cutting them off after one too many questions.

“I’m not even a hero course student. I’m just here because it’s the easiest way for Nezu to organize me. And I already have multiple extracurricular activities. I don’t have time to be class president. If you want my advice, I’d say make Yayorozu president and Iida vice.” He stops there, looking at the board in silence as people in the class stare at him.

Thankfully, they manage to come to a consensus without him, so he can continue to ignore them for the rest of homeroom. They end up taking his advice, and Izuku just nods when he sees Yayorozu and Iida standing in front of everyone with tense smiles on their faces.

Good, everyone’s happy. Kind of.

Aizawa raises from the dead seconds before class ends, reluctantly giving them his approval before leaving, his yellow sleeping bag dragging behind him. Izuku watches him go, wishing he could be even half as good as him at keeping people from getting close.

For the next few hours, Izuku does his best to ignore everyone around him. The excitement has ebbed, and now he just can’t wait to be done. People keep looking at him, and it’s annoying. He doesn’t want to be here, so he just counts down the hours to lunch. He can make it that long.

Maybe.

He has his new notebook out almost the whole time, going into a deeper dive of his uniform as he remembers different details. He ends up answering a question without thinking, but no one reprimands him so he must have gotten it right. Whatever it was.

The only class he pays attention to is math, which is actually a little fun. Cementoss is an excellent teacher and asks Izuku challenging questions that make him actually think about his answer. Not that the other teachers are bad, he just already knows the material they’re teaching. That will probably change soon, but Cementoss is starting strong and it’s nice to have something new to think about.

Cementoss is also the last class before lunch, so that’s another bonus. And he lets them pack up their things a few seconds before class ends, which is a third bonus. Izuku can confidently say that math is now his favorite core class, but that’s nothing new.

The bell rings and everyone slowly filters out of the room, chatting and grouping together like regular teenagers.

Izuku follows Ochaco, but can feel everyone watching him again, the feeling of their eyes on his neck like nails on a chalkboard. It’s more than a little uncomfortable, and it makes him realize that there’s no way he’s going to be able to sit in the cafeteria like this. Just great, day three and he already needs to find alternative seating.

He does manage to ignore the stares long enough to get a plate, but that’s as far as he can manage. Ochaco sends him a questioning glance when he starts to walk away, so he forces himself to pause and explain.

“Too many eyes. I’ll see you in heroics, don’t wait for me.” Ochaco just smiles a knowing smile and waves goodbye before chasing after a gloomy looking Iida. Izuku ignores that because it isn’t any of his business who she befriends. Iida isn’t a bad person, and that’s all he really cares about in terms of if she should be hanging around him.

Not that it’s his decision either way.

It’s fairly easy to slip out of the cafeteria, multiple doors leading to multiple different areas giving him plenty of options. And on top of that, he has the building’s layout memorized, so he already knows the routes to the best hiding spots.

He ends up choosing the one closest to Power Loaders Lab, climbing the stairs to the roof access until he’s sitting at the top of the stairway with a tray in his hands. It’s blissfully quiet, and he can’t help but sigh in relief. Almost perfect.

Really, the only thing that could beat this would be a spot on the roof itself. The breeze on his wings, the heat of the sun seeping into his skin. Now that, that would be perfect. What he would give to sit on the roof again. Maybe he could convince Nezu to give him a key! That might be a thing!

Izuku is so lost in his thoughts, he almost doesn’t notice the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs. Almost. As it is, he’s still hyper aware of his surroundings due to years of constantly waiting for the other shoe to drop. That means he does notice the footsteps, and has guessed their weight and gender before they even come into view.

He stares at the new figure, waiting until they finally look up and see him sitting there. Whoever it is freezes, hands clenching a small lunch and shoulders tensing to an alarming degree. That isn't annoyance or surprise, no, that’s very well hidden fear. Izuku can recognize it anywhere, because almost every single one of his opponents looked just like that when he walked into the ring.

This person is scared of him, for some reason. He doesn't show it, relaxing so quickly a normal person would have mistaken it for a flinch. Just a sudden surprise to see someone in a place he obviously claimed as his own. Or at least, that’s what Izuku assumes is going on.

Silence stretches through the stairwell for a minute, hovering over their heads with a tension Izuku can taste. He stays loose, keeps his wings lowered, keeps his back slouched, avoids straightening out in any way. He should look as nonthreatening as he possibly can, but that might not be enough.

Izuku knows how he looks. He’s not wearing gloves, which means talons. He’s not wearing contacts, which means he doesn’t look quite human. He looks off, and he knows he looks off. This boy is scanning him, eyes lingering on the claws and the eyes and the wings.

Izuku also knows that, despite his differences, he is considered someone with a ‘pretty’ mutation quirk. That means if this person has been discriminated against, they probably assume that Izuku has not been discriminated against. And, well, he would be correct. Izuku has never experienced bullying, Kacchan was too scary for that.

And, last but not least, Izuku knows that this person has been at the very least abused, but likely bullied as well. It’s not just the way he stands, the way he looks at Izuku like he’s a predator. No, Izuku recognizes the scars on his jaw, recognizes the hesitation to speak. This person has a vocal quirk, and people have not been kind about it.

So, Izuku continues to wait. He waits and relaxes and watches, the same old pattern he often falls into in many a situation. Whoever this is seems to be debating whether or not to confront him, debating whether or not it’s worth it. Izuku is almost tempted to leave, but he really does like this spot.

He’d be fine with sharing. Is this stranger fine with sharing?

“You. You’re a hero student.” It’s not a question, but Izuku still responds.

“Unfortunately.” He says it with a little more emotion than usual, trying to appear more human. But he remembers too late, that there are some people who aren’t in the hero course, who want to be in the hero course. And according to the shock on this person’s face, he is one of them.

“Unfortunately? What is that supposed to mean?” He almost sounds angry, like Izuku just insulted his whole blood line. Right, he probably didn’t get into the hero course and is now wishing to get in through the sports festival. Depending on his quirk, he may not have the best chance at that, considering his physique.

Skinny. And lacking severely in the muscle category.

“I am a hero student.” No reason to spill his entire life’s story to someone so aggressive. Izuku knows why he's acting like this, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to let this stranger walk all over him.

“Yea, well... I’m going to get into the hero course and I’ll appreciate it far more than you. I might even take your place.” Izuku can see through the false confidence, can see the layer of fear that’s likely raising his pulse to a dangerous level. He doesn't want to be combative, but he feels like he has something to prove.

“There’s a seat open in the hero course, so you will probably just take that spot. No exchange.” The stranger pulls back a little, surprise writing itself all over his face. That wasn’t what he expected, apparently. He probably expected a cocky overconfidence earned by nothing more than luck, in most cases.

He seems to struggle to come up with a response, looking between Izuku and the floor and then back at Izuku. Finally, after almost a full minute of confused silence, he speaks.

“I, uh. Yes, I’ll take that spot. And then we’ll be on the same level. You’re not better than me, got it?” It almost sounds like a question, like he’s asking Izuku’s opinion. That’s not what he’s doing, but Izuku just nods and goes back to eating his food. The stranger stares for a few seconds before steeling himself and walking past Izuku, placing himself against the wall behind him.

Izuku ignores him, eating his food in silence as the timer clicks down. He finishes his food fifteen minutes before lunch ends, and can only bear to stay silent for a few minutes before turning around so he can look this stranger in the eye.

“Midoriya.” He looks up from his food in surprise, staring for a second before responding.

“Shinsou.” He’s still guarded, still glancing at Izuku’s talons with caution. Izuku just nods and reaches into his backpack to pull out a notebook.

“You’ll need to exercise more if you want to beat anyone in the sports festival.” Shinsou jerks again, that same look of surprise popping up on his face. He’s very easy to effect, and Izuku can’t help but be interested. From what he can tell, Shinsou might be quite a bit like Aizawa, and that is very interesting.

“I... I don’t-“ Izuku is going to regret this.

“I can give you a training plan, and UA has a gym. You have two months, not enough to make a ton of progress, but enough to learn some basic martial arts. But only if you train every day, and use a complete exercise routine.” Shinsou is practically gaping at him now, eyes wide and mouth open, like this is the strangest most unexpected thing on the planet.

To be fair, Izuku is going off script in many ways. He may not know Shinsou, but this is the kind of thing he lives for, these interesting moments where he gets to see lives shift right before his eyes. It doesn’t really matter to him that Shinsou wants to be a hero, because there’s one type of hero he approves of.

And Izuku thinks Shinsou might be one of them.

“Uh- Why would you do that?” Izuku doesn’t have a reasonable answer, so he just shrugs. Shinsou looks like he’s about to push the issue, but Izuku doesn’t let him.

“Take it or leave it, I can probably get you a session with Eraserhead.” Shinsou literally drops his lunch box at that, eyes wider than should probably be possible as he stutters out something somewhat resembling words.

Bingo.

“I- uh- idon- wha- ha- huh?” Izuku knew it. Anyone like Shinsou would likely be interested in someone like Eraserhead, and that means Shinsou is just as interesting as Izuku thought he would be. This is perfect, the final puzzle piece in his schedule. Very Exciting.

“Think about it. We should get to class.” Shinsou still looks shocked, but manages to snap out of his stupor fairly quickly. He shoves a few more bites of food into his mouth before standing up, following after Izuku with a little panic written in his posture. Izuku doesn’t particularly care, used to the fear of others.

The hallway is starting to get crowded, people walking back to class after hanging out with their friends at lunch. That means groups of people who don’t want to stop talking, so Izuku just sticks to the wall and ignores everyone once again. He can feel Shinsou sticking close behind him, but it doesn’t bother him at all, so he doesn’t point it out.

Now here’s the thing. Izuku isn’t easily startled. He might spin around faster than usual or jerk his head in a direction when he’s surprised, but being shocked to the point of fear? No, that’s not common at all. Which means he doesn’t really react when the hallway is suddenly flooded with the sound of alarms.

Well, he jolts a little, halting in place and looking up at the speakers in confusion. Then, he realizes that he’s in a hallway full of teenagers and immediately flattens himself against the windows seconds before everyone freaks out and starts to rush for the exit. It isn’t until a hand comes up to grab his that he realizes he accidentally pushed Shinsou against the wall with him.

Shinsou, who is looking more than a little pale. Izuku scans his surroundings, trying to find a way out. He can recognize the signs of a panic attack, and Shinsou is definitely on the verge of one. His breathing is picking up. He’s leaning against Izuku’s arm like it’s difficult to stand. He’s staring at nothing with wide, panicked eyes.

Yup, panic attack.

Izuku manages to shift a little, looking outside of the building only to see a gaggle of reporters hounding a couple heroes by the entrance. Press. Unexpected, but not his issue. His eyes flicker over the gate once, logging something he doesn’t have time to think about right now.

Okay, so, how to tell everyone it’s just reporters. Maybe he can- Yea, that might work.

Izuku pulls away from the wall, but pauses before he gets anywhere because the hand gripping his suddenly tightens. He turns around, taking in the sudden fear on Shinsou’s face. Right, panic attack, doesn’t want to be alone. Well, shit, okay. Uh, maybe a different route.

It takes him a second to find a solution, and by the time he has one, most of the people are stuck by the exit like a pack of sardines. That means that there’s slightly fewer people near the back, where he is currently standing. Perfect, time to ignore everyone as per usual.

Izuku shifts, stepping closer to Shinsou and wrapping an arm around his shoulders, quickly guiding him to the first room they can reach, leaving their lunch boxes on the floor. Thankfully, the door opens, letting them into a blissfully empty... closet? Well, it’s a big closet, so that’s fine.

The second the door closes behind them, Izuku’s hearing immediately locks on to the sound of Shinsou falling apart. He’s gasping and choking and shaking and looking like he’s fairly close to passing out. Not good, don’t want that. What to do, how to fix this. Izuku has had panic attacks himself, but he’s never helped anyone through one.

Okay, start with the basics.

He steps a little closer, guiding Shinsou against the only clear wall and gently lowering him to the ground. Wow, Shinsou was really leaning against him a lot. Not good.

He doesn’t let go, but manages to shift his free hand to press right over Shinsou’s chest. Shinsou is looking at him now, but it’s obvious he’s having trouble focusing on anything. He curses, realizing that this won’t work unless Shinsou has a hand against Izuku’s chest, not the other way around.

It takes a second, but he manages, pulling Shinsou’s free hand closer until it’s finally where it needs to be. It grips his shirt, but that’s fine, it’s still close enough to feel his breathing. Okay, hold the hand against his chest and keep it there. Next step.

“I need you to copy my breathing. Come on, inhale, exhale. Come on Shinsou, feel me breathing, copy that, please copy that.” Izuku can tell that he’s starting to feel a little panicked himself. He really doesn’t want to deal with a passed out teenager right now, especially when they don’t know eachother very well. And, of course, watching someone unravel like this is already fairly distressing. 

He’s still human, after all. 

“Breath in, and out, breath in, and out. Come on, please listen to me.” Izuku can see Shinsou’s eyes start to get cloudy, can feel his chest stutter beneath his hand. Very not good, very very not good.

“Breathe Damnit!!!” Shinsou jolts, eyes finally locking with Izuku’s and chest suddenly pulling in a shaky inhale.

“Yes! Yes, good job, that’s it. Keep going, keep following me.” Izuku focuses on his breathing, doing his best to stay steady despite the leftover fear in his ribs. He can ignore it, he can do that. There are more important things to focus on right now.

Shinsou’s head slumps a little, but his breathing does start to even out. His chest is still stuttering, hands shaking where they’re gripping at Izuku like a lifeline. He doesn’t really care about that, it’s not like they’re hurting him. Shinsou is, unfortunately, far too weak for that.

“Good, much better.” The hands finally start to loosen, breathing mostly steady as he leans back against the wall. There’s a moment of silence, Shinsou staring at the ceiling with tired eyes, Izuku taking a deep breath himself and letting go of the limp hands in his grasp. The one gripping his shirt stays in place, but that’s fine.

Or at least, he thought it was fine.

It must not be because not even a second later, Shinsou is jerking away like he was burned, now looking at Izuku with far more fear than necessary. Which should be no fear, because why would he be scared?

Okay, ignore how illogical it is and help. Somehow. How does he help?

“I-I I’m, I’m so sorry-“ Huh? “I’ll, I-“

Izuku, unsure what to do, starts to raise his hands in the universal ‘I mean no harm’ gesture, but the second he lifts them, Shinsou flinches like he’s about to get hit. Okay, not doing that then. He lowers his hands again, watching as Shinsou clams up and clenches his jaw, looking to the side with his eyes closed as though preparing for pain.

Just great, this is going so well.

“I’m not mad. I also get panic attacks, I get it.” Shinsou jolts, looking at him with wide eyes again, but still not opening his mouth. Right, verbal quirk, probably used to staying quiet when other people are mad. How does Izuku convince him that he really doesn’t care? God, this becoming difficult.

“Would you prefer I leave? I genuinely don’t care. I’m just glad you didn’t pass out. None of this was your fault. I am not angry in any way.” Shinsou continues to stare at him for a solid thirty seconds before finally opening his mouth. Nothing comes out, but he does open it, which is progress.

After another few seconds, Izuku decides it might be best to leave, moving towards the door only for a hand to reach out and grab his arm at the last second.

“No!” Izuku puts his hands up again and slowly moves back to where he was crouching on the ground. Shinsou closes his mouth with a snap, hand quickly retreating once more. Izuku doesn’t sigh, but he feels the urge, shifting until he’s sitting cross-legged on the ground. He waits, a familiar endeavor, waits until Shinsou opens his mouth once more and finally speaks.

“Thank you... For helping me.” Izuku nods, looking around the room to try and ease some of the pressure. Shinsou seems to relax at that, shifting until he’s sitting in a more comfortable position. Somewhere in the background, he notes that the alarms are off and that the hallway is seemingly empty, leaving the room full of silence.

Shinsou must also notice the lack of alarm, because he glances at the door with apprehension. Izuku tries to figure out what that might mean, eventually landing on the probability that he might simply not want to go back to his class after that. That would make sense. Even Izuku has a hard time going back to normal after a panic attack, and he’s gotten really good at managing them.

So, he makes a decision, shifting in place again, moving to stand up and stretch his legs.

“You can come with me if you’d like. I’m sure Nezu would be fine with you skipping a class, considering everything.” Shinsou looks up at him with surprise, an expression that seems to be constantly appearing on his face. After a few seconds of silence, he shakes his head and stands up next to Izuku, leaning against the wall ever so slightly.

“No offense, but a familiar class will probably be easier right now.” Oh, right, he should probably specify.

“I’m the only person taking this class. It’s a... special curriculum.” Oop, there’s the surprise again.

“Uh, well... I’ll ask my teacher-“

“I can just ask Nezu right now.” And, surprise, more surprise!

“...How?” Izuku pushes open the door, stepping out into the hallway with a nervous Shinsou following after him.

“Hey, he needs a break. Can he skip a class?” Shinsou looks around the hallway in confusion, eventually just following Izuku’s line of sight to see a camera in the corner. The second he looks up, the camera tilts up, then down, as if nodding in approval. Izuku watches as Shinsou’s eyes go wide, pushing down a smile and moving to walk towards 1-H.

Shinsou snaps out of it after Izuku starts walking, quickly catching up, using his long legs, and keeping up despite Izuku’s fast pace. They walk in silence for a few seconds until Shinsou looks at Izuku with a strange expression and breaks it.

“You’re not half bad. For a hero student.” Izuku almost stops in his tracks, but manages to keep walking with only a stutter, mind flooding with memories as he forces himself to smile a small smile.

“Thank you.”

He can’t help but wonder what Shinsou would say if he knew that Izuku was far worse than every single one of his classmates.