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 from 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 once left 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 handle, that people will literally fray apart at the seams because the power inside them is simply too powerful. She dreads the thought of just how strong 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 more, 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 put 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 and 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 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 lips 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 in 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, 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 arms and strong enough to lift him a off the ground ever so slightly. 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 moths 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, killed 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.

For months, he stays silent, and when he starts talking again it's all short sentences and curt responses. He sounds blank, a complete lack of emotion. And when he shows emotion, he simply doesn't talk, keeping his mouth shut until he's returned to a blank slate. It's confusing, but they do as they do with everything else.

They try to cope.

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 him 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, but 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 hundredth 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 taking 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 the first, actually. He sighs, rubbing his face to prepare for the anger he’s about to receive.

“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 into said office, because, again, it’s Monday. A few seconds later, the Pro steps back out 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 him 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, moving back a little as the door opens before stepping inside. The kid, Bakugou, is 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 this year, 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 on his own. 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 air, 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 the 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 already 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 using 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’ they’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 what 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's pretty hard to get over the railing, but his wings help. 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 he 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 his 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 out the window, 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 so.

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, 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. He 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 and waiting 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 potent glee 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 five star treatment, 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. And 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 to finally meet 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 in this area!

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 they 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. White hair? 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's 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, 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, who is 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 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 isn't 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 know what happened 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, early on in February, a tired Eraserhead walking him to an unknown location for an unknown meeting with an unknown person. Izuku jus follows close behind until they stop in front of a small café and his teacher 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?” He 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 got his information, but he got it, and there’s nothing to be done now.

“Yes sir.” Nezu smiles, black beady 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 he would be in jail 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 our 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 by his side.

“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 more. 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 is also, thankfully, very short, so he’s 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 making him stumble and just barely mange 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 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 take this exam.

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 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 wide open 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 further 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 other. 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 nodding and turning 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 a flowing river, 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, 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're 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 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 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. He 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's planning 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 the 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 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.” He 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 the pin on 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 regularly envies.

“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, 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're 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. Do one of you want to spar?” 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 speaks 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 bit 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, moving before anyone 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 more.

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, forced to defend when he would have lashed out. 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 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 of 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 vomits up his dinner as quietly as possible, 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 serving. 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 lesson.

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.

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, money.

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, 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 a desk in the back 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 six 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 it 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 won't be able use take your inventions in the sports festival” Oh, he didn't think about that. Not that he's going to be in the festival to begin with.

“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 being 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 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 tomorrow, 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 turns back towards 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 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 ticks 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 more. 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 showcasing them. 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 his 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.” 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. 

“Breathe in, and out, breathe 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 back 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, beginning to move 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 quite yet. 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.

Chapter Text

Class 1-H is empty when they arrive, full of half started projects and scattered tools on messy tables. Izuku narrows in on Hatsume’s desk in less than a second, the only one with scorch marks and finished prototypes laying on the surface. And, if he had to guess, the small pile of items behind the desk is probably hers as well.

Shinsou is looking at everything, keeping his face blank enough for Izuku to wonder what he’s thinking. Most hero students don’t have a ‘special curriculum’ that involves classes in the support department, so he’s probably curious as to what they’re doing here. 

That would make sense, but Izuku is not Ochaco, and therefore, can not read everyone’s expression to a T whenever he wants. No, he can read certain things very well thanks to experience, but most of the time he’s left as clueless as a baby trying to stick a fork into a power outlet.

This is one of those times, so Izuku just walks over to Hatsume’s desk and sits down on her chair instead of trying to decipher a puzzle he doesn’t want to deal with. Shinsou follows him, scanning her desk before walking away to sit on a chair that’s been pushed into the corner of the room.

That’s fine. Izuku understands the need for personal space. He just keeps on keeping on, removing his backpack and pulling out the notebook he bought last night, which he got just for this. It’s far more sturdy than his usual choice, which will probably be an important detail if he’s working with someone like Hatsume. 

Even this might not be enough, to be honest.

Shinsou is looking at something on his phone, scrolling away without a care in the world as they relax into the silence. It’s nice, being able to just be instead of do. It’s a feeling he doesn’t get very often, seeing as his two companions are either bubbly and extroverted or sharp and angry.

Shinsou is different, smooth and introverted, even if there’s an undertone of anxiety in everything. To be fair, Izuku might be projecting a little, which makes sense considering the fact that he just barely avoided watching someone pass out. He himself is still on edge, occasionally glancing at Shinsou just to make sure the boy is okay.

So far so good, but the pressure on his chest doesn’t want to go away, not until he has some concrete proof that Shinsou is okay. He doesn’t have that proof right now, and he’s not sure how to get it. It feels like he’d be stepping out of bounds to just come out and ask, though that might just be his anxiety talking. 

Unfortunately, he’s not able to decide before the door slides open, an exhausted-looking Power Loader walking into the room with a sigh. Shinsou is instantly on high alert, gripping his phone tight as he stares at the new teacher. 

Right, Izuku forgot that Power Loader doesn’t teach any other classes. This is the first time Shinsou has seen him. He’s a stranger, which might not be very good for anxiety.

“Sorry about that Midoriya, I didn’t know we were still doing this.” Right, alarms. Did they cancel the rest of the school day?

“It’ll probably be another fifteen minutes before the other classes start up, just so we keep track of all the students.” Okay, they’re just pushing them back. That’s fine, Izuku is used to staying late.

“That’s fine, sir. I hope you don’t mind that I brought a... friend.” Yeah, let’s just say friend. Less explaining needed.

Power Loader turns towards Shinsou with his eyebrows raised, pausing for a second before looking between them a few times. Eventually, he stops and shrugs, waving a hand in dismissal.

“Do whatever you want. As long as Nezu’s fine with it, I don’t care.” That’s about what Izuku expected him to say. Good job, he’s correctly predicted an interaction once more.

Shinsou loosens his grip on his phone, glancing at Izuku before swallowing and nodding.

“Thank you... sir. I’ll, stay out of your way.” Power Loader just waves his hand again, walking towards the front of the class where he has a pile of stuff waiting for him.

“Yea yea, don’t worry about it. We’re mostly covering theoretics and basic principles today. Nothing fancy, just catch up work.” He grabs a stack of papers and starts walking towards where Izuku is sitting.

“Nezu told me you have a basic understanding of the core principles, but that you might need to brush up on other areas. I’m going to start by having you take a basic test, just to see where you’re at. I assume you know the deal? Don’t worry about the grade, just answer what you know and skip what you don’t.”

Izuku nods and takes the small stack, placing it on the only empty space on Hatsume’s desk. Power Loader doesn’t tell him to move, so he should be fine sitting here for now.

“Have at it. There’s no time limit but I’ll be watching the clock.” Izuku nods and flips open the first page, scanning it to see the contents before starting on the first question. Only, he ends up pausing when he registers what he read.

Or, more accurately, what he knows the answer to.

Which is everything.

For a few seconds, he scans the questions again before shaking his head and quickly jotting down the answers and flipping the page. He repeats and pauses again, because he still knows the answers. This happens three more times before he realizes that he knows far more than he thought he did.

When did he learn this? Why does he know that the different types of end effectors can affect the connecting mechanism? When did he study the makeup of a standard central processing unit and how many different types there are? What did he get lost in to have learned not just the names of three different types of actuators, but also how to recondition each individual component involved?

Why does he know any of this? He shouldn’t! He doesn’t remember getting interested in support gear!

Well...

Except for that time he disassembled their fridge and put it back together all on his own.

And the time he wanted to know how Ingenium’s engines worked.

And the time he wanted to build a flamethrower.

...

Okay, maybe he did study support gear a bit, but still. He shouldn’t know this much. It’s weird, but there’s no point worrying about it. He knows what he knows, so he might as well skip past what he can and get to learning. No need to think about it too hard, that won’t get him anywhere.

He ends up finishing the test in twenty five minutes and only leaves five answers blank. Power Loader looks surprised when he’s handed the pile of papers, but just shrugs and starts flipping through them instead of asking questions.

It takes him barely ten minutes to go through all of them, and he walks back towards where Izuku is sitting with a better posture than Izuku’s ever seen him use and an impressed expression.

“Good job! I expected you to know half as much as you do. That means we can skip all the annoying details and get into the slightly less annoying details! And let me guess, you got a nice new notebook just for this class.” Izuku blinks at him for a second before placing his notebook in the center of the desk.

“Perfect! Gotta love notebooks. I have, like, twenty at any given time. I assume you have more for other things you’re interested in? Analysis? Math? Analytics?” It’s uncanny how spot on he is.

“And physical training, and Physics.” Power Loader smiles and nods, walking back to his desk with relaxed shoulders once again.

“You get it! You’ll probably have different notebooks for different areas of support work. I have one book for the class, but also a second just for Hatsume, but she doesn’t need to know that. You though, you won’t tattle on me because you don’t care enough to spill the beans. I think I’m going to like you, Midoriya.”

Izuku doesn’t respond, but he can’t help but share the feeling. Power Loader is turning out to be a very interesting person, and Izuku’s already itching to start a new analysis just on him. He’s never analyzed Power Loader before, meaning he’s the only UA Staff member without a page in his notebooks.

It’s been a long, long time since he started a page from the beginning. In recent years, he’s mostly just been revamping old work rather than finding new heroes to study. This is almost making him want to start up the habit again. Almost.

“Now, let’s get down to business.” Izuku shifts, opening his notebook and settling into place. He quickly glances at Shinsou, just to make sure everything is fine, and notes that he looks far more relaxed than he did when Power Loader walked in. Good, Izuku was a little worried.

For who knows how long, the room is filled with the sound of a somewhat complex lecture and the scratch of pencil on paper. It’s interesting stuff, and new enough to keep him hooked, mind going over all the possibilities as he writes down theories and formulas. He’s interested, which means time passes fast.

The bell rings far too soon, and Izuku jerks, looking up at the speaker in the corner of the room with an uncharacteristic glare. Power Loader looks too, but doesn’t seem all that bothered, which is unexpected. He seems like the type to avoid large classes.

Maybe.

“We have another... twenty five minutes. Thanks to the whole… situation. Let’s keep going, okay?” Ahh, that makes sense. Sweet! They don’t have to stop!

“Sounds good.” The words start up again, and so does the writing, rough sketches and quickly written sentences covering each page. They’re going a little faster now, brushing over less important details while focusing on the major parts. He must be aiming for some threshold, and Izuku is more than willing to follow along.

By the time Power Loader stops talking, Izuku has at least twelve pages of notes. It’s a large notebook, so he still has plenty left, but wow. That’s a lot of words.

Power Loader does look less thrilled this time, shoulders slouched as he glares at the door for a solid fifteen seconds.

“Well, that’s all the time we have. You think you’ve got everything?” Izuku closes his notebook, looking up from where he was writing to glance at the door himself.

“Yes. Thank you, Sensei.” Power Loader sighs and Izuku turns to look at Shinsou, who is looking at the door himself. He seems a little antsy, like he doesn’t want to be here. Probably because he doesn’t want to deal with an unfamiliar class, which Izuku understands. He himself isn’t thrilled that he’ll have to sit with a bunch of new faces, but he’ll live.

“Shinsou, you can go to your class whenever.” That pulls his gaze away from the door to look at Izuku, blinking a few times before relaxing ever so slightly.

“Yea, I think I’ll get going. Thank you for accommodating me, Sensei.” Power Loader smiles, waving a hand as he apparently tends to do.

“No problem, kiddo. You’re always welcome.” Shinsou stands up and moves towards the door, but at the last second, he pauses before quickly walking back towards Izuku and handing him his phone.

“Can I... get your number. For the training stuff.” Right, Izuku almost forgot about that. Working with someone so far behind him will be interesting, but he’s ready for the challenge.

“Sure. Good luck with class.” Shinsou takes his phone back, smiling a wobbly smile before nodding and rushing towards the exit. They watch him leave, staring at the closed door for a second before turning to look at each other.

“So, friend.” Izuku doesn’t roll his eyes, but he sure does feel the urge.

“New friend. He wants to join the hero course, and I think he has promise.” Power Loader walks back to his desk, sorting through items with a wide grin.

“Uhuh. And this is, what, the third time you’ve trained random people? Let me guess, you hate being a teacher.” That makes him pause, memory kindly reminding him that he started this pattern before he even got to UA. He had convinced himself that it was a one time thing with Ochaco, a way to get a sparing partner.

What’s his excuse this time?

He can’t think of an answer, so he just shrugs, staring at his closed notebook with a busy mind. Power Loader doesn’t push it, messing with the items on his desk in preparation for what’s coming.

“Well, the class should be here any second. Cementoss already released them. You can take that chair over there, you’re sitting with Hatsume.” Izuku nods, standing up and grabbing the chair. It’s light but sturdy, a good chair. Why is he thinking about chairs?

“Good luck kid!” That’s all the warning he gets before the door slams open, a literal horde of teenagers flooding into the room. Izuku feels himself tense, but manages to calm down fairly quickly. Not before Hatsume steps into the room and narrows in on him in a matter of milliseconds.

She was smiling when she walked in, but it grows like a weed when their eyes meet. She looks ecstatic, like he’s making her day just by being there. He’s still not entirely sure why she wants him around, and he wants to find out, but he’s not going to question it quite yet. Not while his position is this vulnerable. 

No, he can sit here and wait. He’s good at that. 

She practically skips towards him, dropping a massive backpack on her chair and rummaging through it. He waits, and watches and she pulls out a pile of papers and three notebooks, which makes him pause for less than a second.

“These! Are all the schematics I’ve been working on in the last year. And THESE,” She takes off the top quarter of the pile and places it closer to him. “are all the ones that made it past the planning stage.” Izuku glances between them, noting the rough sketch on top, before looking up at her with a nod, telling her to continue.

“I want you to choose three items to pursue from the ones I scrapped.” For the third time, he pauses, staring at the pile with tension in his jaw.

There’s no way. There’s gotta be at least a hundred in that pile! How does she expect him to-

“I marked them by types. You can choose a type first, so you don’t need to go through every single one. Here’s the guide. I’ll be working on an old project today, so you can take your time. Sound good? Good! Have fun!”

...

Izuku stares at the guide she handed him, feeling slightly less alarmed but still very, very confused. She doesn’t seem to care, pushing his stuff to the side and taking over her space. The guide is detailed, but not very complex. It was obviously rushed, which could mean she either did all this last night or just didn’t care to spend time on it while she was making it.

Either way, he has plenty of work to do.

He starts by reading through the categories, then he chooses his top two and flips a coin. It lands on heads, they’re going with tactical gear. He flips the page to the guide on tactical gear, reading that a few times and choosing his top two a second time. The coin lands on heads, they’re going with combat gear.

Light pink tab, twenty-six schematics. That’s, more than he expected.

He doesn’t shake his head, but he really, really wants to. But, he doesn’t, because there are too many eyes watching him, curious about who this stranger is and why he’s sitting at Hatsume’s desk. Power Loader said something about Izuku being a part time student, but that’s about all he heard. He’s been preoccupied.

It takes him fifteen minutes to sort through all twenty-six schematics, each one surprisingly detailed considering the messiness of all her other work. It makes it easy to pick out a favorite. Then, he goes back to the guide and takes one step back.

Personal Protective Gear. Twelve schematics. He picks one, goes back two steps, and picks his second choice.

Weapons.

The weapons guide has far more choices than the tactical gear. Almost twenty, each one just as detailed as the last. It takes him a second, but he manages to choose a single option, finding the dark blue tab on the pile and pulling out the section on hand to hand combat weapons while carefully ignoring the section on biological weaponry.

He pauses when he pulls out the dark blue section, staring at a grand total of four schematics before shrugging and pulling them out. It makes sense, there’s not a lot of innovation to be done in hand to hand weaponry. At least, he doesn’t think there is. He might be wrong though, he’s no designer.

The one on top looks pretty complicated, but kind of cool. He stares at it for a second before flipping through them just to get a feel for what’s there. He expects three others like the first, complex schematics with all sorts of details and notes. He also expects to maybe find something interesting, but probably no more than anything else he’s seen today.

He doesn’t expect to flip to the last paper and latch onto the sketch like a viper, eyes going wide as he takes in the most beautiful weapon he’s seen in his entire life.

It’s small, but elegant, delicate designs on the handle Izuku can’t help but be drawn to. He wants it, he really really wants it.

Oh, so this is what it’s like to fall in love with things that don’t exist.

“You found the one, didn’t you?” Izuku blinks, dragging his eyes away from the page towards a Hatsume who looks far calmer than usual. Her normal, manic grin is gone, replaced by a small smile as she crosses her arms and looks at him with a gentle understanding.

“All support technicians have one, an item that caught their attention. Mine was a sketch my mom made, a pair of combat gloves for a friend of hers. The first thing that truly makes you want to create, that makes you want to find more. I was hoping you’d find it in there.”

The idea makes him pause, makes him think about what he just experienced. He’s been interested in support gear before, but nothing like this. This doesn’t make him want to analyze, this makes him want to build. This is different.

“Yea. I did.” Hatsume smiles, far warmer than any he’s seen from her before. She’s happy, and he’s not entirely sure why she wants him to want this so bad. Then he remembers watching Ochaco fall in love with martial arts and understands. 

The pride, the excitement, the admiration he felt as he watched her slip into love with something that’s been his closest friend for years.

That must be what Hatsume is feeling right now.

“Perfect.” Then, a switch flips, the too wide smile a manic eyes coming back full force as she snatches the paper out of his hand. He starts to reach out, but ends up letting her take it, putting back the other three weapon schematics and pushing the pile to the side.

He watches as she reads the paper, and then as she puts it down and picks up the other two he chose. She reads each one before putting them back in front of him with a nod.

“Good choices! I’m impressed! You have a good eye!” She turns away, continuing to fiddle with the small device she’s been working on this whole time as she talks. “The dagger will probably take time to finish since it needs some special materials, but I’m sure we can get it done before the sports festival. Not that we can use it haha!”

Izuku nods, actually reading the schematic this time instead of staring at the sketch. It’s actually a very complicated design, and there’s a reason for the pattern that isn’t just ‘cuz it looks cool’. If anything, it makes him even more attached. He can’t help but hope he’ll be able to keep the dagger when they’re done.

Unlikely, but he can still dream.

“Okay, I’m almost done with this-“ He looks up again, watching as she makes a few final adjustments on her project. It looks like some sort of generator, which wasn’t what he was expecting. Most of her stuff looks like either tactical gear or tools, not disaster relief or whatever category generators are in.

“Okay! Done! Lemme clean up and we can get started on the paperwork for the dagger.” She picks up the finished prototype and fucking throws it into the pile, not a care in the world while he barely suppresses a flinch at the resulting crash of items. People ignore it, so that must be normal.

“If my babies can’t handle a little roughing up, then I did something wrong. I didn’t do anything wrong on that one. It was too easy.” Izuku looks at it for a second, half expecting it to blow up and just electing to ignore it when it doesn’t. Hatsume is already mostly finished with cleaning up, wiping off the oil and grime from her workspace until it’s clean enough to put a book on.

Well, a book you don’t really like. Or a good quality notebook. Nothing you actually want to keep in pristine condition. He wasn’t expecting anything more than that though, so it’s fine.

“Okay! Now, the paperwork for each item involves categories, and most of my stuff is in categories that are easy to approve. Power Loader usually just looks at the schematic and signs off, but it’s different for weapons. Depending on the weapon, it might need to go all the way up to Nezu. I’m sure we’ll be fine, but it’ll be faster if the paperwork is good.”

She pulls a perfect little pile of papers out from under her desk, placing them in front of him with a loud slap. It has paperclips and everything, obviously a handout, not something she made herself. Her organization scheme may be easy to understand, but that doesn’t mean it’s neat and tidy.

“You ready freckles?” Izuku pauses, the nickname echoing in his head for a second. It’s... nice? Kind of? So many people look at his wings and assign them to every facet of his being, but she doesn’t seem to care that he has a mutant quirk. She hasn’t even acknowledged that the wings exist.

Whatever, he can ponder his relationship with this strange person later. For now, they have paperwork to do.

“Lead the way.”

Izuku’s fingers are hurting long before Power Loader calls time. He’s written so many paragraphs, it’s actually fairly impressive. Hatsume was actually very helpful through it all, telling him exactly what he needed to cover in order to get it past review.

He ends up massaging his hands on his way to gym beta, mind going through all the things he still needs to finish if they want to even start working on the dagger anytime soon. There’s a lot, but that’s fine. He can do it, he can grit his teeth and bare the bureaucracy. It’s a good thing they aren’t just giving permission for every single weapon a student wants to make, it makes sense.

Doesn’t mean he has to like it.

The cramp in his wrist is mostly gone when he walks into the fitting rooms, everyone still in there jerking his direction with wide eyes. Kirishima is the first to speak this time, surprise quickly melting away to something akin to joy.

“Oh, thank god! I was worried you got hurt or something! Wait, were you? Mic Sensei just said you were busy, it was all mysterious. Did you get hurt? Did someone run into you or something? Are your wings okay? Did you-“

“BACK UP SHITTY HAIR! HE’S OBVIOUSLY FINE!” Kirishima stops and takes a few steps back from where he was crowding Izuku into a corner. Which Izuku didn’t even realize was happening until it stopped because of the sudden input of information.

“Oh... sorry. I, sorry.” Izuku wants to sigh, he really does, but he doesn’t. He just nods and grabs his gym uniform and walks into a cubical and then sighs. He takes a few seconds to wonder why Kacchan is still in the room, considering the fact that he’s usually the first to leave, but decides to ignore it because his hand is starting to cramp again and he really just wants to be done with all this.

Changing is easy, especially considering the fact that he doesn’t have to figure out how to put on his uniform again. He doesn’t even know if it’s finished yet, but there was a case in his locker that he ignored so who knows. Either way, it would be pointless to wear it while the girls have nothing but trash.

Hopefully, everything will work out. The school will probably make far better uniforms, in both quality and design. Izuku honestly can’t wait to see what they end up with, more than a little curious about how it will differ from the boy’s uniforms. Will they be more functional? Less? The same? They’ll probably be far better quality, but that’s a given.

Either way, it’s not happening today.

Izuku expects the room to be empty when he steps out, but instead of that, he’s met with an annoyed Kacchan sitting on a bench. He pauses, blinking a few times before walking the rest of the way out of the cubical.

“There you are. Let’s go.” At least he still sounds angry. Honestly, Izuku wouldn’t know what to do with anything else. He must have been waiting to show Izuku where the class is taking place, which is nice, even though Power Loader already told him where to go.

He doesn’t protest though, just nodding and following after Kacchan as they wind through the campus. They don’t talk, the silence uncomfortable and tense and just a tad bit frustrating. They really need to have a conversation... Izuku just, isn’t sure what to say. Everything he said was true, and he doesn’t really feel like apologizing, but he never intended for Kacchan to find out in the first place.

Telling him that would only make things worse, though. Kacchan would want to know, because he always wants to know. He wants to know everything about everyone, he hates not having answers. So how is Izuku supposed to fix this? Is he supposed to wait for Kacchan to come to him? How long will he have to wait?

He doesn’t know, and he hates not knowing. 

But there’s nothing he can do right now, so he might as well leave it be until he can figure something out.

They walk into gym four together, and Izuku’s gaze is drawn directly towards their teacher. All Might. And is that Eraserhead behind him? Does this mean the school is chaperoning the number one hero? That would be funny.

“Young Midoriya! Young Bakugou! There you are! Okay, now that we’re all here, I can explain the exercise!” God, he’s loud. He’s almost as loud as Mic Sensei, and that’s saying something.

“Now! The original plan was cos- I mean, uniform testing, but seeing as not everyone has a uniform, we’ll be completing a basic quirk safety lesson today.” Okay, good idea. Izuku half expected them to give some two minute speech on the dangers of quirks or something like that, so his expectations have already been greatly exceeded.

“As you know, quirks are very useful tools, and they can be used in many a positive manner, but that doesn’t change the fact that they can be volatile and dangerous. My quirk, for example! If I use too much force, even just a little, I can seriously injure or even kill most opponents. And that doesn’t even take into account the civilians I’m attempting to protect! 

I can level buildings with a single punch! Collateral damage is a real issue that can do far more than just ruin people’s homes. It can kill people!” Izuku freezes, jaw clenching as the words flood into his mind.

Kill people. He says it so casually, like it’s just a thing that happens, not the end of the world. And no one reacts, still listening to their teacher talk about collateral damage and quirk accidents with bored expressions on their faces. Do they even care? Will they ever care?

Izuku looks up, tries to move on, but then he see’s Kacchan and takes in the guilt in his eyes and his mind falls back on memories of blood and ash and fire and-

“I don’t think you get it.” Izuku jerks, looking towards Eraserhead who is staring at the class with a harsh glare. All Might has paused, looking at Aizawa in confusion, blinking dumbly as the class turns their attention to their homeroom teacher.

“I want you to imagine something. You’re at the store, picking something up for your parents. You get what you want, and you walk home with your bags and everything should be fine. It isn’t until you’re a couple miles away from your house that you realize a fight has taken place. You keep walking, positive that a hero helped, that everything is fine.

Then you see a hero, and you relax, because there was a hero so everything must be okay. What you don’t realize, is that not every single hero cares about collateral damage. No, you’re so sure everything is fine until you’re in front of your house staring at nothing but rubble and dust. 

And then you see the ambulance, and then you see your parents, and then you learn that it didn’t matter how good the medics are because this hero was strong. Strong enough to take down the villain, yes, strong enough to win a fight, yes, but also strong enough to kill civilians in seconds before they even know what’s happening.

That, is not a false scenario. That happens every week. So people try to get recourse, try to get this hero off the streets because he shouldn’t be there. Unfortunately, in most cases, the courts will side with the hero. No legal recourse, rarely any compensation, no way to prevent it from happening to someone else. That is the reality, and that is what this lesson is about. 

You are my students, it’s my job to teach you how to stop that from happening. It starts here, learning about the damage your quirk can do, learning how to keep your power under control. I’m disappointed to say that this is a lesson not many hero schools teach, because the Commission doesn’t require it. 

That doesn’t mean it isn’t important.

It is arguably one of the most important lessons you will ever learn, and I will be drilling it into your head every chance I get. You will be graded on not just your wins and losses, but your collateral damage and your control. 

So you better listen and listen close. Do not become that hero, do not ruin lives just because you want the win.”

...

No one speaks, no one moves, the silence ringing in Izuku’s ears as he stares at Aizawa in shock. His classmates don’t look bored anymore, they look just as stunned as Izuku feels. They look disturbed, surprised, sad. They look like they care.

They look like they care, and Izuku can’t help but smile just a little.

Maybe they will learn, maybe Aizawa will teach them.

And maybe, just maybe, he can live with that.

Chapter Text

On the fourth day of school, Izuku wakes up with a message on his phone and a crick in his wing. He ignores the flashing notification at first, doing his best to massage the joint as carefully as possible, not wanting to mess up the feathers even more than they already are. It’s tricky, and he ends up biting his lip to hold in a groan of pain as he tries to fix the issue.

Five minutes later, he’s laying on his back with the aching wing curled over his chest and the other draped over the side of the bed like some sort of dramatic love struck idiot in a movie. He groans, forcing himself to continue his endeavor until finally the cramp dissipates, fading into the background as he lets himself relax onto his bed. 

Now that that’s over with.

Who would text him this early in the morning? Ochaco? She never has before. Not Kacchan, and most definitely not Mitsuki or Masaru. Okay, maybe Ochaco.

He groans again, doing his best not to reactivate the crick, keeping his wing stretched out at just the right angle. Thankfully, his phone is on the near corner of the side table, making it so he doesn’t have to stretch very far before he has his hand wrapped around the green case.

He stares at the message notification for a second before sighing and opening the screen with the press of a finger. That’s when he remembers that someone new has his phone number, and that he forgot to text them yesterday. And also, apparently, that they have insomnia.

Shinsou, and a message sent at two twenty-seven am. No wonder he looked so tired, the poor boy must be exhausted if he’s texting people at two in the morning. Izuku doesn’t really have that issue, thankfully. He’ll have nightmares, but he doesn’t wake up until the sun rises. Usually.

Okay, focus. He taps on the notification, watching as the chat pops up with a single... picture. A picture of a cat, to be specific. A very cute cat, but just a cat. Not what he expected. Oh, there’s also a text.

“My cat Sushi” Okay, this is Shinsou’s cat. Random, but that’s fine. Now, how does he respond?

“Cute.” That works. Now, does he apologize for not texting yesterday? Maybe not. Yea, he can just ignore that.

“I’ll need some information to make your training plan. I can get started on it tonight, will take me a couple days.” He can rush it. It’s not too difficult to pull some late nights. Yea, he can do that. There’s not much time before the Sports Festival after all. Two months won’t completely change Shinsou’s physique, but it will give him a little bit of an edge on anyone who doesn’t train.

Which won’t be a great deal of people, but it will be something.

He’ll need to use his quirk if he wants to win, whatever that is. It’ll be hard to get an explanation, but he’ll try, even if it means making Shinsou uncomfortable. He needs to train his quirk, and Izuku can probably come up with a good plan if he knows how it works.

It feels a little hypocritical, training someone else’s quirk while barely using his own. Sure he exercises his wings and flies when he can, but he doesn’t touch a whole half of his quirk. 

He can always feel the fire in his veins, itching to spill from his lungs like acid. It pushes under his skin, heats up his bones, begs to be let out. If he uses it now, if something pushes him to break, he doesn’t know if he’d be able to control it. It would burn bright and strong and fast. Every minute he pushes it down, it seems to get stronger.

It makes no sense.

According to every quirk theory, quirks don’t build up like this. When you don’t use a quirk, it weakens. That’s why civilians have such weak quirks compared to heroes. They aren’t allowed to use their quirks, so they weaken over time. So, by that logic, Izuku’s fire should be far weaker than it is.

Instead, it’s gone so far he slips up almost every week. He’ll feel nauseous after dinner and burp up flames. He’ll have an itch on his hand and the area will light up when he tries to scratch it. Little things that have made him paranoid, made him want to surgically remove that part of him with a clinical accuracy.

Unfortunately, he can’t do that. He’s stuck with this, and he’ll be stuck with it for the rest of his life.

So yes, forcing Shinsou to use his quirk is very hypocritical, but it needs to be done. Shinsou wants to be in the hero course, which means using his quirk, which means he needs to strengthen it. And if strength isn’t the issue, then he needs to learn control. See Present Mic.

Hopefully, it won’t mess things up. Hopefully, there isn’t too much trauma involved. Shinsou seems rather determined to get into the hero course, so he’ll likely be okay with using his quirk. It’ll come down to how bad his past was, and considering the fact that he was likely muzzled, it may be far worse than anything Izuku went through.

He can’t imagine someone tying up his wings or trimming his talons. That sounds like a nightmare. And to think Shinsou was muzzled enough times to scar... that just makes him furious. It reminds him of the little girl he found with a cage on her face, staring up at him in terror.

She’s safe now, living with a foster family who has experience working with traumatized teenagers. It was the first time Izuku saw Tsukauchi, not that he knew the detective’s name at the time, and not that anyone could see him as he hid behind the closest building. He still goes to see her every now and then, watches from afar as she smiles and laughs like a child her age should.

It also reminds him of the person who introduced him to those scars. An older man with a quirk that let him affect memories by telling people a different version of what happened. Everyone was convinced he would use it to make people forget the bad things he did, so they locked it away and never looked back.

Hachiro was his name. Izuku remembers listening to him on a rooftop, watching the city beneath them as they ate corn dogs from a Korean food stand on the street. He remembers suddenly seeing the scars far too often, eyes glued to the raised skin with anger. He never thought he would find someone like that at UA.

He never thought anyone who went through that would want to be a hero.

That’s part of the reason he sees promise in Shinsou. That’s part of the reason he’s convinced there’s gold beneath the surface. To go through something so horrible, and come out the other side wanting to be a hero. That’s special, and it means Shinsou knows the darker side of things. It means he’s not going to ignore those in need.

Izuku’s almost positive he’s right. Present Mic is open about his rough past, and he’s an activist through and through. Maybe not as high on Izuku’s nice list compared to Eraserhead, but still up there. Though the list isn’t very long, so that’s not saying much.

His musing is cut off by the sound of a text, eyes drawn back to the phone on his chest. He lifts it up, clicking on the notification and staring at the message with tired eyes.

“Whatever you need.” Short and sweet. Good, Izuku will need a lot.

He gets to work making a document for Shinsou to fill out, taking the one he made for Ochaco and updating it a little for the specs he’ll need. It’s a lot, and he doesn’t expect Shinsou to fill out every single question, but he’ll need at least most of it to make sure he doesn’t injure his new protégé. 

 Speaking of protégé, he’s scheduled to train with Ochaco tonight. Maybe he can invite Shinsou to watch a session, just in case he want’s to back out. Izuku doesn’t think he will, but might as well make sure.

“Fill this out. You can skip some if you want, but I’ll need most of it.” He sends the link, waiting for a second until Shinsou sends him a thumbs up in response.

Good. Now that that’s over with.

Getting ready for school is fast and easy, and he’s by the door ready to go right on time. Mitsuki drives them, and Izuku notes that he should ask if he can fly to school as he plays with the band around his wrist. It’s thin and looks like a regular smartwatch, and no one’s asked about it yet. Good, he doesn’t want any extra attention.

Just like all three days so far, Iida, Yayorozu, and Todoroki are all in class when they arrive. Thankfully, there weren’t any paparazzi by the gate, so it’s nice and early. Ochaco shows up a couple minutes later and from there it’s a steady stream of students until everyone is in the room. They’re still talking and hanging out, but at least they’re here.

“Are we still training after class?” He looks up at his friend, remembering his idea from this morning. 

“Yeah. Do you mind if someone joins us? Just to watch, you’ll be my focus.” Ochaco smiles, leaning back in her chair with a calm energy. 

“I’m fine with that. Did you make a friend!?” She seems very excited about the idea, and he doesn’t have the heart to completely turn her down so he just shrugs. She wiggles a little before glancing at the clock, smiling at him one more time, and focusing on the door. 

She actually notices Aizawa this time, and Izuku can’t help but be proud of her progress. She still has room to grow, but she’s further along than most of the kids in their class. She’s strong, and will be a force to be reckoned with when the sports festival comes around.

Homeroom doesn’t include any activities this time, a simple roll call and summary of the day until the bell rings. Then the classes blend together until lunch comes around and everyone is released. Izuku follows Ochaco, sticking with her through lunch this time. She drags Iida with them, which Izuku ignores.

Iida looks nervous, glancing at Izuku every few seconds as he eats. Izuku doesn’t feel bad or guilty, still a little annoyed by the boy. Ochaco is the only one keeping the conversation alive, asking Iida questions as Izuku sits back and exists.

A few minutes into lunch, he texts Shinsou with an offer to meet them at Gym seven. He makes sure to tell him that Ochaco will be there, and that he’d only be watching, but Shinsou still ends up accepting. Nice, it’ll be a good start for him. Izuku learned plenty of techniques by watching others fight, and that information can be invaluable in a pinch.

Nothing happens after lunch this time, so Izuku walks into Power Loaders lab right before the bell rings, ready to learn something new. Power Loader is already there, smiling and handing him a packet before sending him to Hatsume’s desk and starting the lesson.

It’s a little more hands on this time, skin speckled with oil and grime as he fixes small devices. Each one teaches him something new, over and over until his hands are tense from all the careful and precise movements. Power Loader smiles each time Izuku hands him a fixed device, placing it on a table and handing him another until the bell rings and the packet he filled out is shoved back into his bag.

Hatsume is just as energetic as the last two times he saw her, sicking him on the paperwork he didn’t finish yesterday until his hands are aching for a whole different reason. He erases mistakes so many times, it’s a wonder none of the pages have ripped.

He somehow manages to finish it this time, plopping it on the table as Hatsume finishes up what she was working on with a smile. She looks over it for a few minutes, nodding in satisfaction before speaking.

“You got everything right! I’m impressed. Takes me forever to get all the details right when I do it. Okay! Let’s turn it in!” She practically drags him to the front, dropping the thick pile of papers on Power Loaders desk with a grin and starting a spiel about all the reasons he should accept their proposal.

“And what does Midoriya have to say about it?” Izuku blinks a few times, but manages to answer the question fairly quickly.

“I think it will be a good way to learn how to make detailed equipment and how to work with precision tools. And it’s interesting.” Power Loader nods and leafs through the paperwork, squinting at a few parts until he closes it and places it on a small pile of papers.

“I’ll look at it tonight. I can’t guarantee anything, but the paperwork is solid. I should have an answer by the end of next week. Now get back to it. You have ten minutes before class ends.”

And that’s that. They’ve turned in Izuku’s first ever project request. He’s a little proud of his accomplishment, but doesn’t voice it, calmly walking back to their table.

 “Sweet! Now you can help me with this.” She seems to pull the item out of thin air, placing it on the table gently before moving both her hands to her hips as she grins at what appear to be a pair of fancy boots. They probably have some secondary purpose, but they do just look like giant shoes.

“This, is my newest baby. Hover boots, using highly compressed air from its surroundings to lift you from one to ten inches off the ground depending on the strength you use. And with it comes,” She reaches under her desk and pulls out another item, placing it next to the boots. “a jet pack using the same method with a stronger application.”

Izuku looks at the two prototypes, trying to figure out why they seem familiar. After a few seconds, it clicks, memories of a certain hero popping up on the news for a few minutes two days ago.

“You modeled them after Air Jet, didn’t you?” Hatsume beams, hands back on her hips, grease rubbing into her filthy overalls.

“Yup! It was complicated, but I think I got it. I just need to fix a few issues and it’ll be done! I’ll have it in time for the sports festival, and I’ll probably use it. I have a few others I need to finish before then as well, but this set is my main one. Now, let’s get to it!”

For the next ten minutes, Hatsume walks him through everything he needs to know about the boots. They don’t have time to cover the jet pack, but they have plenty of time to work on it tomorrow. He leaves that lesson feeling satisfied and relaxed, slipping behind Class 1-A without a sound and following them to locker rooms.

Only Kacchan and Todoroki notice him, everyone else either distracted or just generally not good at situational awareness. He doesn’t react to Todoroki’s sudden intense gaze, keeping his steps quiet and his wings lowered until he’s walking into the fitting rooms with a suppressed grin.

They still don’t notice him until he’s at his locker, a dozen eyes narrowing in on him the second he clicks the door open.

“Dude! When did you get here?!” Kirishima, just as shocked and loud as usual. And, for some reason, happy. Always happy. 

“What do you mean? I’ve been here the whole time.” Izuku makes sure to sound as blank as possible, staring at Kirishima with vacant eyes. Kirishima, who looks properly disturbed for a second and lets out a nervous laugh, Kaminari joining him. Izuku wants to laugh with them, their concern rather amusing to his tired mind. 

“Stop creeping them out Zuku. He slipped behind us when we passed 1-H. You just have shitty situational awareness.” Despite the fact that he just insulted them, most of the nervous ones look revealed, like they weren’t sure if Izuku was some sort of vengeful spirit haunting them or just an unusually quiet classmate. 

With all the times he’s died, he could be either. 

No one asks him any more questions, grabbing the metal cases with their uniforms and starting the process of putting them on. Right, he almost forgot that they were using their uniforms today.

Izuku returns the clothes to their spot, reaching in for his own metal case and noting the new design. So they did fix it. That was fast. He looks at it for a second before pulling it out and walking to the same cubical he’s used every other day.

This time, he notices Todoroki do so as well, slipping into the cubical next to Izuku’s without a sound. He can’t help but wonder if they’re hiding the same thing. 

It’s a little easier to change into his uniform this time now that he has practice slipping on all the individual parts. He stares at the training knife for a second, imagining having the support weapon he’s designing with Hatsume instead of this flimsy little thing. Well, it’s probably not going to happen anytime soon, so no point in thinking about it. 

He steps out of his cubical ten minutes later, staring at the rest of the class as they finish up putting on their own uniforms. Kacchan’s has so many moving parts, Izuku can’t help but feel a little miffed at how detailed it is compared to the girls’ uniforms. It still looks a little stupid though, and unnecessarily bulky. 

And it kind of looks like a design Izuku made when he was nine years old and learning how to design. 

That’s ridiculous though. There’s no way Kacchan used an idea from that long ago to create his uniform. No way. 

Izuku blinks and looks away, sighing in relief when he sees the lack of plastic ice on Todoroki’s costume. It’s missing a few other details as well, so the ice must have been attached in a way that made him lose structure, which kind of sucks. That’s fine though. If Izuku is right, they’ll all get uniform change request forms during this class. 

He waits for Kacchan to finish before leaving this time, following him to Gym ten without a word. They get there before most of the class, and Izuku steps to the side and suppresses the urge to fidget as he waits for the girls to arrive. He also suppresses the urge to pull out a notebook and start taking notes, but that’s far easier to suppress than fidgeting.

Thankfully, he doesn’t have to wait long. Not two minutes later, the first girl walks in, a smiling Ashido in one of the brightest uniforms Izuku has ever seen. Despite its bright color, it’s actually not that bad. 

The boots and gloves look reinforced, which will be needed if she’s using them to slide on her acid like she said she enjoys doing. The bodysuit is sturdy and supportive, but still loose and comfortable. The goggles actually protect her eyes from whatever acid may spray in the air, and they also look fairly comfortable. 

Overall, it’s a good uniform.

Seconds after Mina walks in, Asui, well, Tsu, and Jiro walk through the door with similar smiles. Izuku starts feeling the urge to smile himself, because man their designs are so much better than most of the boys.

Tsu’s uniform is tight, but not too tight. Similar to Mina’s in structure and strength, but gloves and boots that let her use her quirk. While it’s tight, it’s far less revealing than what Izuku saw of the girls’ uniforms before the change, a good stretch but not hugging the skin tight enough to be practically see through. 

Jiro’s uniform isn’t all that different from her old one, just a little better quality. It looks sturdy and strong, like an actual uniform instead of civilian clothes. She looks far more comfortable now that her shirt isn’t one fingernail away from tearing. 

A couple minutes later, Yayorozu steps into the building with a uniform that speaks of high intellect and careful planning. He doesn’t know what her old one looked like, but Ochaco had explained it to him with enough detail for him to be horrified, so he knows that this is far more than just an improvement. This? This is a completely new uniform. 

It leaves plenty of areas to create items while still protecting vital areas with a careful design that tells him there’s hidden protective gear inside the fabric. It has pockets and pouches and weapons that she probably made herself. She has slots for those weapons and more slots for stuff she has yet to make. 

It is, quite literally, the best uniform he’s seen. She even beat him, though he wasn’t trying all that hard so it isn’t a very fair comparison. She probably would have beaten him even if he did try, though. She’s obviously a master at designing, which isn’t all that surprising considering the requirements of her quirk. 

His attention is drawn away when he sees her look to her side at what appears to be thin air until he notices the floating pin. Ah yes, Hagakure. They must have been working on her uniform since before the whole debacle started, seeing as UA is the only one with the ability to make quirk specific uniforms. 

He almost sighs in relief, glad that she could receive the uniform she deserves. 

Now, where’s Ochaco? 

Izuku waits, and waits, and watches as the last few men trickle into the gym until they’re missing one person. Was her uniform messed up? Is she okay? Is he thinking too hard about this?

“Uraraka’s costume is really complicated, so it’s taking her a second to put it on. She told us to go ahead. She should be fine.” Izuku turns to look at Yayorozu who is smiling at him with a gentle expression, reassuring him despite his lack of emotion. That’s... kind of her. 

“Thank you.” She nods and walks back towards the group of girls who are talking amongst eachother, all smiling and poking at eachothers uniforms. Izuku can feel a sliver of anger bubble up in his chest, but pushes it down. It’s not the time to rant about heroes and the stupidity of teenagers. Not right now. 

“Izu!” Finally, took her long enou-

...

Oh, that’s. That’s much better.

Ochaco is grinning, staring at him with a very self satisfied expression. It’s well deserved, and the urge to pull out a notebook grows exponentially every second he takes in her uniform. Oh, where to start? 

Of course, there’s the basics. The fabric is far superior in quality, thick and sturdy and tight without being particularly revealing. The boots no longer have heals, and the ankles are less restricted. There’s protective gear slipped under the fabric in all vulnerable areas, thin and flexible but likely just as strong as any other gear they have. 

The wonders of technology. 

She has pouches attached to the waist detailing, and he knows for a fact that the small slit on the right boot contains a built in knife for emergencies. The shoes and arm cuffs have balancing features that make it easier for her to move in the air. And when her quirk is activated, the suit tightens over pressure points that help reduce nausea. 

It’s perfect, and it looks so good he could hug her. She deserves every ounce of pride she’s feeling right now, so he pushes down his feelings, smiles, and nods in approval. She freezes, eyes going wide and mouth falling open. He’s already back to a blank face, blinking a few times before turning back towards the rest of the class.

He hears a few people ask Ochaco if she’s okay, and hears her tell them she’s fine, but can’t see her until she moves towards the front of the class with the widest smile he’s ever seen her wear. He suppresses another smile himself, just a tad bit pleased that he could make her happy. 

“I AM HERE!” He doesn’t jolt, but only because he was ready this time. “FOR HERO UNIFORM TESTING!” Finally he got the name right. 

Izuku notes the yellow sleeping bag in the corner of the room. Good, All Might isn’t alone. Izuku’s expectations of the number one hero were slightly exceeded, but he still thinks they were stupid to let him become a teacher. He obviously doesn’t have any training, and is definitely here for some hidden reason, so there’s no way he should be allowed to teach students without help.

“Now! I see you all have your uniforms! They look AMAZING and I can’t wait to see what they’re capable of!!! My co- uniform is made of a very special material that-“ Izuku almost immediately tunes out the boring ramble of information, discreetly pulling out a notebook and starting some sketches now that no one is looking at him. 

He starts with Ochaco, being careful to add all the details he knows about as he half listens to the speech echoing through the building. After that, he pulls out his second notebook for the class, starting his sketches in alphabetical order by last names, skipping those he already finished. 

It’s a personalized notebook, one he spent a pretty penny on and will be using for the rest of the year. It has collapsible pages so he can update their uniforms as the year passes. Something that will likely be necessary if any of his classmates know what’s good for them. 

“Now, LET’S GET TO IT!” Izuku quickly slips the notebook back into his hidden pocket, focusing on their teacher once more. He got the gist of what they’re doing, going through the function of their uniforms to make sure everything works. Some of them will have more work to do than others, so it will be interesting to see how he handles that. 

For about eight minutes, All Might walks them through the steps, though Izuku can see him glancing at a piece of paper when most of the students are looking away. It’s kind of funny but mostly just sad. You’d think the number one hero would be better at remembering things.

Whatever, he’s human too.

When he’s finally done, Izuku watches as his class goes to their designated spaces and starts going through the steps, testing and writing down each detail All Might told them to look at. He waits and watches for a minute, waits until he feels All Might’s eyes narrow in on him for a second too long. 

Then he pulls out a third notebook, the one he started on his uniform, and begins. He doesn’t follow the order All Might gave them, because it was stupid. Instead, he starts with a quick check of the materials before moving on to anything else. 

He pulls and stretches and uses his talons to try and pierce the fabric, making sure to be as rough as he can without injuring himself. Miraculously, it doesn’t tear. He’s ripped through high-quality fabric before, torn through jeans like they’re butter. It’s impressive how much of a difference decent workmanship can make.

Okay, next step. 

For a solid five minutes, he goes through every pocket and pouch, making sure they’re functional and sturdy. More scratching, more tearing, more seemingly indestructible fabric. Of course it will cut if met with a sharp enough blade, but it won’t be damaged by rubble or debris. 

Then, checking the strength of the of the buckles and straps. Then, doing his best to scuff up his boots. Then, making sure the fingerless gloves will protect him from any friction burns. Every few minutes it’s a new test until he’s absolutely certain the protective elements actually work. Short of shooting himself with a gun, there’s nothing else he can do. 

Next, making sure the support gear works. 

This will be fun. 

“Sensei, can I use the obstacle course?” All Might blinks at him for a second before responding. 

“Have at it young Midoriya! Whatever you need!” Okay, that’s a little too much freedom. 

Whatever, at least he doesn’t need to fight for it. 

Izuku ignores the feeling of eyes on him as he walks towards the side of the gym where a basic obstacle course is set up. Before starting, he takes a second to warm up, spreading out his wings and stretching his muscles until he feels loose and relaxed. Then, he crouches down and opens his wings, taking a few deep breaths before moving. 

Flying is like second nature, easy and freeing and sending waves of glee through his system. He weaves and dives and flies through the course, pushing himself off walls and under obstacles as fast as he can manage. 

He finishes in thirty two seconds, landing crouched on the floor with his wings spread wide. 

Then he glances at the timer on his wrist and walks back to the start. This time, he powers up his suit, immediately relaxing as a steady warmth floats over his skin. Then, it gently tightens in specific spots, the suit slowly molding to his body until it feels like a second skin. 

Finally, he feels his gloves and shoes shift. He test it, jumping from foot to foot and almost smiling when he feels an extra spring in his step. Then, he tucks his wings around his chest and completes a quick forwards cartwheel, pushing himself up and over with a careful precision. 

It works, his feet landing a good foot away from where he’d usually land. 

Izuku nods, wiping off the gloves before going back to the starting line and settling into place. He crouches down just like before, fingers hovering over the start button on his watch. 

Five, four, three, two, one, GO.

He dashes forwards, wings pushing him off the ground with an ease he’s not used to. It almost makes him hesitate, but he pushes past the surprise without pause, flying through the course with precision and speed. Suddenly, jumping off the walls is easier. The warmth seeping into his joints makes him loose and fast, each movement feeling far more natural than it has any right to be.

He flies and jumps and dodges and weaves and then he’s slamming into the ground with a lightness in his bones that makes him feel incredible. 

He feels so good, he almost misses the sudden applause, body tensing when he finally registers it. He looks to the side in confusion, staring at the class who is looking at him with impressed smiles. Where is this coming from?

Ochaco must notice his confusion, because she points at the wall behind the obstacle course. He turns to look at it, just barely keeping himself from groaning when he sees the giant timer showcasing his accomplishment. 

Twenty three seconds. Nine seconds faster than his first run.

Okay, that’s not too bad. He can see why they’d find it... cool, but clapping? Really? 

Whatever, he’s finished his testing so might as well get started on All Might’s version. 

Ochaco gives him a thumbs up as he walks back to his spot. Thankfully, people go back to their own thing fairly quickly, finally leaving him alone so he can do his work. For the next half hour, Izuku goes through the motions, writing down what he needs to remember, but mostly just moving on without pause. 

By the time he finishes, more than half the class is done and sitting in a group on the floor. He doesn’t join them, nodding at Ochaco and leaning against the wall a good ten feet away. He watches the last few students go through the lesson, waiting patiently for class to end. 

While he’s waiting, he pulls out his notebook again, continuing the sketches and notes he started before class. They’re not as perfect as some of his art, but they’re not supposed to be, focused more on information rather than presentation. It’s good enough though, not particularly disappointing. 

A few minutes later, he’s brought back to the room when he hears Kacchan ask All Might something. He looks up, watching as his brother motions at the massive gauntlets on his arms and towards the line of cement barriers sitting opposite the obstacle course. All Might nods and gives him a thumbs up, which is when Izuku realizes that Kacchan is the last one out there. 

He keeps on watching, glancing at the class before looking back at Kacchan as he walks over to the barriers and braces himself for something. His stance is strong and solid as he lifts up his arm, aiming one gauntlet at the cement and pausing. 

Izuku glances at the class again, noting that a few of them are also watching Kacchan, probably wondering what the gauntlets do. Izuku has a rough idea, but he can’t know for sure. If his idea is correct, then a few of those walls are about to be blown up. 

So, he keeps on watching as Kacchan takes a deep breath. He keeps watching as a hand reaches for a pin that looks like something off a grenade. He keeps watching as he Kacchan braces for impact. 

And he keeps on watching as a Kacchan is almost thrown back by a massive blast that tears through all seven cement barriers and the east wall of the gym.

...

What the fuck just happened?

Everyone is gaping at the sudden destruction and Kacchan is looking at the damage with a decent amount of horror in his expression. Okay, good, he didn’t ask for gauntlets strong enough to break quirk proof walls. 

Izuku knows his expression must have some sort of emotion on it, though he isn’t sure what, so he shakes his head and tamps down on the surprise until he’s sure he’s back to neutral. Then, he walks forwards until he’s standing next to Kacchan helping him carefully take off the gauntlets. 

Very, very carefully. 

Kacchan still looks a little horrified, the afternoon sun shining through a massive hole in the wall as All Might looks between the bombs and the wall with wide eyes and an open mouth. It’s kind of weird, not seeing a smile on his face. 

“Bakugou, step back from those, very slowly.” They both do as Eraserhead tells them, carefully walking backwards until they’re a good ten feet away from the devices.

“Good, now, Power Loader and Cementoss are on their way. Bakugou, please tell me you didn’t intend to make them that strong?” Izuku looks at his brother, waiting for him to respond even though he already knows the answer. 

Only, there’s a new issue. Kacchan looks like he’s... well, in shock. He’s staring at the gauntlets with wide eyes and pale skin and shaky hands like he just killed someone instead of tearing a hole in a building. That’s, not normal. 

Sure Izuku expected him to be surprised, but not like this. He loves destruction, loves violence, yells die at the tv screen when playing video games or watching movies. He used to practice making the biggest explosion he possibly could at every chance he got. So why does he look like he just did something horrible? 

...

“ 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!”

...

Wait. 

Oh... oh no.

Does, does Kacchan think Izuku sees him as a copy of Endeavor? 

Oh shit. 

That’s not good. 

“Bakugou?” Izuku almost wants to snap at Eraserhead, wants to tell him that now’s not the time, but then he looks at his teacher and realizes what he’s trying to do. There’s concern in his eyes, and a firmness to his gaze. He’s trying to distract Bakugou, trying to make him realize that this wasn’t his fault. 

Okay, yeah, Izuku can help with that.

“Kacchan, Kacchan.” He gets a small jolt in response, but not much else. So, he goes a different route, moving to stand in front of his brother, cutting off his line of sight so he’s no longer locked on to the Gauntlets. 

“Katsuki.” That finally works, his head jerking up to look Izuku in the eye. 

“Hey, no one’s hurt. You’re at school, everything can be fixed.” Izuku lets himself look relaxed, lets himself show a little emotion because this isn’t the time to be defensive. Again, he doesn’t need to be a hero to help others. 

“I... I didn’t mean.” Izuku waits patiently, glancing in Aizawa’s direction motioning for him to stay back and then motioning towards the class who is looking at them in concern. Aizawa nods and moves towards the class, rounding them up and giving them instructions. Izuku’s not entirely sure how to help Kacchan through this, but he knows his brother hates showing weakness, so the fewer eyes the better. 

When he’s sure everyone is looking away, Izuku turns back, taking in the shaky hands and uneven breathing. Damnit, another panic attack? Didn’t he help someone through one yesterday? What is with this school?!

Okay, it’s fine, he can worry about that later. Right now, he needs to get Kacchan breathing.

“Katsuki, can you take a deep breath for me?” He knows for a fact that touching him would make things worse. Kacchan is overly sensitive to physical contact, something to do with his quirk. Mitsuki is the same way, so yeah, no touching. Instead, he starts exaggerating his breathing, raising and lowering his hands to try and make a visual connection.

Thankfully, he gets a response, Kacchan’s clenched jaw opening just enough for him to let in a shuddering breath. It gets easier after that, his breathing slowly steadying out and hands going still until he no longer looks five seconds away from falling apart. Izuku stops the exaggerated breathing, taking a step forwards to get his attention again. 

“Hey.” Kacchan looks back up at him, blinking a few times before closing his eyes and letting out a heavy sigh. 

“Sorry.” Nope, not letting that train of thought fester.

“You didn’t do anything wrong.” Kacchan huffs, a hand coming up to rub at his face for a few seconds before he’s sighing again, hand dropping to his side.

“Yea, yea. Maybe you should be a therapist at this point.” Izuku lets himself huff out a quiet laugh before changing to a serious expression. 

“But seriously. You didn’t do anything wrong. You didn’t ask them to make it that strong, you tested them before using them in combat. You did everything you were supposed to do.” Kacchan shifts, looking at Izuku’s shoulder, his jaw still tense. He seems to think about the words, breathing thankfully staying steady.

“I... I guess. I did tell them to put a cap on the power.” Wow, even worse. Maybe everyone should get their uniform checked at this point. 

“See? Now, let’s let Power Loader deal with them. Sound good?” Thankfully, Kacchan nods, taking another deep breath before turning around and walking away.

Izuku takes one more look at the gauntlets before glancing at the hole in the wall. Who thought it was a good idea to make them that strong? Who let them onto school grounds without double checking the requested power cap?

And what did Kacchan see that made him look like the world just crumbled to ash around him?

Chapter Text

Katsuki doesn’t know what to do.

Again.

When he designed his hero uniform, there were quite a few details that most people would miss, but he assumed professional designers would get it. It was a revamped idea that Izuku gave him when they were nine, a complex thing with all sorts of support and tools and, again, details, that he always knew he was going to use. 

Before submitting it, he triple checked it to make sure he wrote down all the safety features. He didn’t even think of turning it in until he was absolutely certain everything was perfect.

So, he went to school, he examined the uniform, he went through the extra steps he saw Izuku doing, and he worked up a sweat so he could do one final test. It was supposed to be simple, supposed to be destructive, but only to a certain level. 

It wasn’t supposed to absolutely decimate the side of a quirk proof building.

But even that should have been fine, even that should have been easy to deal with, but he didn’t just see an explosion. No, he saw something far worse. 

Just for a second, he saw a flash, an image of ash and rubble and blood. Then he saw something he’s never seen before, something that shouldn’t be in his head. 

Aunty Inko, laying dead in the remnants of her living room.

The image was fuzzy, surrounded by broken cement and a steady ache in his shoulder. It disappeared just as fast as it appeared, nothing more than a flicker, but searing itself into his memories like a bad omen. 

The image stuck to his mind as he stared at the rubble, the sun shining through what was once a sturdy wall. It stayed as hands helped him remove the gauntlets. It stayed as he backed away from the danger, eyes now trained on green metal as he tried so very hard not to collapse to the floor. 

It stayed despite the muffled words surrounding him. It stayed despite the burning feeling in his chest. It stayed as something blocked his line of sight. It stayed until Izuku called out his first name, slowly drawing him back to earth with exaggerated breathing and gentle words. 

And now here he is, standing on the other side of the building, watching Power Loader neutralize the bombs he was wearing on his arms like bracelets. He tries his best not to look at the rubble, tries his best to ignore everything around him, but he doesn’t know what to do.

Izuku is back to looking blank, back to loose shoulders and vacant eyes and relaxed wings. He seems fine, and that stings far more than anything else could. Why did he see Inko and not the person who was there? Is he going crazy? Why the hell did he see that in the first place?

What is he supposed to do now?

Does he just ignore this ever happened and move on? Does he ask his mom for a therapist? Does he talk to his parents? Does he talk to Izuku? What would he even talk to Izuku about? What is he supposed to do?

“Is Mitsuki here yet? I can ride in the car this time.” Katsuki feels his head snap up, the sudden movement sending a shock of pain down his shoulder. It’s fine, it’s not bad enough to make him react. Probably just a pulled muscle. 

“Don’t you have plans with your friend?” He glances at the brown haired girl, trying to remember her name. Nothing comes up, not a single thing. Man, did he really forget everyone’s name? 

“It’s fine, they’ll understand.” He wants to scoff, because it’s just like him to ruin yet another day. He seems to keep on doing that lately, and he’s not sure how to stop. 

“I’m fine. Don’t mess up your plans just because I had a... a moment of weakness.” Izuku doesn’t respond for a second, staring at him with a strange edge in his expression. It’s not quite enough emotion to be considered a specific expression, but there’s something there he just can’t read. God, he hates it when he can’t read people. 

“Come with us.” It takes a second for the words to register, and when they do, he can’t help but freeze. He looks at Izuku with wide eyes, trying to figure out why he would offer that. Doesn’t Izuku want to be as far away from him as possible? Hasn’t Izuku been avoiding him this whole time?

What changed his mind? Is this just pity? Or maybe a feeling of responsibility because they took him in? Does he want Katsuki to decline? Maybe that’s it. Maybe he’s just asking as a courtesy. That must be it. 

“I’m fi-“

“It’s either that or I go home with you.”

Katsuki stumbles over his sentence, mouth hanging open as the words bounce around in his head. Izuku is not following the script, not by a long shot. He should be ignoring that this ever happened by now, should be walking away and wiping his hands of the whole situation. This doesn’t add up with Katsuki’s history of events, not in the slightest.

“Uhm... Okay?” What else is he supposed to say? What is he supposed to do? He’s back to square one and he really doesn’t like it. He was still trying to figure out how to deal with the first issue, he isn’t ready for another one to pop up like this!

“Good, I’ll tell them you’re joining us.” Them? Is round cheeks nonbinary or something?

Katsuki watches as Izuku walks over to the group, pulls his friend to the side, and quietly tells her the update. Then, he’s pulling out his phone and texting someone. Or at least, that’s what it looks like. Is there a third person going to this meetup? Maybe he should have just gone home and dealt with the idea of messing up Izuku’s day. It at least would have been faster.

Izuku is still looking at his phone as he walks back over to where Katsuki is standing, only putting it away when they’re right next to eachother.

“Can you text Mitsuki?” Right, she’s probably already on the way. He really should tell her to not pick him up from here on out. He can get home on the bus just fine after all. He’ll tell her tonight. Maybe.

For now, he just pulls out his phone and sends the message, slipping it back into his pocket without waiting for a response. The silence isn’t as suffocating as he thought is would be, a steady warmth standing at his side with a calmness that seems to infect his very soul.

He still doesn’t know what to do. He still doesn’t know what’s going on.

But at least he doesn’t need to think about it quite yet.

Izuku knows what he needs to do.

It took a second to figure it out, but he has a plan now. It’ll take a few days, maybe even a few weeks, but things should be resolved within a month if everything goes well. Though, Kacchan will probably need some kind of therapist in the near future...

For now, though, he can just focus on making sure Kacchan doesn’t slip back into whatever state that explosion put him in. He can’t know for sure exactly what happened, but he can guess some of the details. If he really is comparing himself to Endeavor after what Izuku said to him...

Yeah, therapy. And an apology. From Izuku.

After he gets a confirmation text from Shinsou, Izuku slowly starts working his way towards the rest of the class, gently dragging Kacchan along with him. Aizawa notices their approach, and immediately pulls everyone’s attention away from them, which is nice.

“Okay, I assume you now know why we do both uniform and weapons testing. I also assume you now know why we make upgrades to our uniform. Of course, upgrades can be for many reasons, but fixing issues is one of the primary reasons. Tomorrow morning, I’ll be handing out request forms so you can start the process of fixing your uniforms. You can ask for help from any of the teachers if you aren’t completely sure what changes to make.

Now, I don’t want you harassing your classmates, so I expect you to change out of your uniforms without bombarding anyone with questions. Understood?” He uses a borderline scary expression to dig in how serious his order is, and pretty much the whole class confirms complies with nervous smiles and quick nods and a loud ‘yes Sensei’. It’s funny, and he wants to laugh. He doesn’t, of course, but he does want to.

“Good. You’re dismissed.” Izuku waits a second before moving, glancing at All Might who is helping Power Loader do whatever it is they’re doing. It’s none of his business though, so he just nods at Aizawa one last time and turns around to follow Kacchan to the changing rooms. 

Surprisingly, Aizawa’s threat worked. Not a single student attempts to approach Kacchan, even the Kirishima kid who’s been approaching him almost every single day. Izuku can’t be sure why, but it’s probably because the kid wants to be Kacchan’s friend.

To be honest, that friendship would probably be a good idea. Kirishima is bubbly and extroverted and would probably be helpful if he succeeds. Who knows, maybe he will get through to Kacchan somehow. Yeah, that would be good.

Either way, it’s not happening today, so Izuku just scans the room one last time before slipping into a cubical and changing into his gym uniform. He still has compression wear on, covering all his scars that would be visible thanks to the short sleeves he’s forced to wear. Something about students getting heatstroke and how that’s a bad idea. He doesn’t know, it’s not like he’s ever had to deal with that.

When he’s finished packing up the last few pieces of his hero uniform, he takes a second to breathe before stepping outside and scanning the room once more. Kacchan is already changed into his school uniform, sitting on one of the benches as he waits for Izuku to finish. 

Most of the class is gone, only a few stragglers putting away their own uniforms before waving goodbye and walking out themselves. Izuku waits for them to leave before breaking the silence, locking up his locker and walking towards the bench.

“Okay, we’re meeting them at gym seven. You ready?” Kacchan doesn’t speak, eyes still a little too vacant for his liking, but he does nod and stand up. Good enough. 

Izuku leads the way, glancing at the girls’ locker rooms before moving on just in case Ochaco already left. He could text her, but there’s not really any reason to do that. She won’t be offended that he left before her if she isn’t finished, and she won’t care that he didn’t check if she did leave. She’s nice like that. 

The real question is if Shinsou will be able to find his way. As far as Izuku knows, gen ed doesn’t have any classes in the gyms. He knows that the students are allowed to use the facilities, but it doesn’t seem like Shinsou has bothered to take advantage of that opportunity. 

Of course, he can’t know for sure. Maybe he’s just horrible at exercising or something. 

Either way, gym seven is an open gym, no workout equipment. It’s made for sparing and bodyweight training, only showcasing a few mats and a painted section in the center. So, no, Shinsou probably hasn’t been to gym seven. Izuku did give him a map, but it was kind of confusing. Shinsou didn’t ask any questions though, so maybe he’s fine. 

Kacchan is still being quiet. He’s not scowling like he usually would, not grumbling under his breath. His jaw is clenched and his hands are in his pockets, but he doesn’t seem as angry. He looks, not calm, not soft, but subdued. He looks like he’s thinking about something very, very hard. 

Izuku kind of wants to know what he’s thinking about. Maybe what happened in class? Maybe something else that Izuku doesn’t know about? Whatever it is, it’s making him feel a little restless. He knows what he’ll need to do, but he can’t do it right now. If he read it right, Kacchan is trying to avoid interrupting other people’s lives, which makes things a little tricky. 

It means Izuku will need to be careful, timing everything perfectly as he makes his way through the day. It means he can’t just drop everything and focus on Kacchan, can’t pause his life to fix things. That alone is making him antsy, making him feel inadequate. That he can’t help his brother? That he messed up so abysmally he can’t even help without walking on the edge of a knife?

He really messed up this time, comparing his own brother to a murderer. Why did he ever think that was okay? Why did he ever think he shouldn’t have apologized? That should have been the first thing he did! He should have immediately made sure Kacchan knew he wasn’t anything like that disgusting creature. 

Once again, Izuku glances behind himself. Just for a second, just to make sure Kacchan hasn’t disappeared or something. Of course he’s still there, still following along without an ounce of hesitation in his step. He still looks distracted, lost, but he hasn’t spoken a single word and Izuku doesn’t think it’s the time to start a conversation. 

Not right now. Soon, but not right now. 

They get to the gym fairly quickly, massive doors leading into a massive building where Snipe Sensei is leaning against a wall. The hero turns to them the second they step inside, mask covering every inch of his face. Izuku nods at him and walks over to the mats, dragging one to the center of the floor as Kacchan settles down on the floor in the corner of the building.

 No Shinsou or Ochaco yet, just them and their teacher. So, he waits. He pulls out a notebook and continues his analysis on his uniform, perfecting the sketch and adding notes on the differences between the first product and the upgraded one he has now. Not even a week in and he already has a new uniform, figures. That’s what you get for going to a school regulated by the Commission.

 Not that Izuku had a choice in the matter. Nope, no matter how many choices Nezu gives him, he doesn’t have a choice in what school he’s allowed to go to. Unfortunate, but he doesn’t regret his decision to help. Yet. That might change, but things aren’t too bad right now. 

He does need to deal with a bunch of naïve hero wannabes on a daily basis, and he does have to ignore the constant anger simmering in the back of his skull, but at least he gets to do a few things he enjoys. Working with Hatsume is fun, and Power Loader is an excellent teacher. He’s pretty sure he’ll enjoy analysis lessons with Aizawa, and whatever the ‘miscellaneous’ class is. 

He didn’t get a very good explanation on that, just a quick ‘I’ll be teaching you everything you need to know’ before the conversation moved on. It will be with Nezu, which was the most intriguing part. Nezu, the smartest creature in Japan. There’s no doubt he knows exactly what Izuku needs, and there’s no doubt it won’t be boring. No, it will definitely be, at the very least, interesting, and at most, fun. 

The door swings open seconds after he finishes his analysis, just in time for him to slip the notebook into his pocket and look up at a happy Ochaco. She skips into the building, nodding at their teacher and waving at Kacchan with a smile before making her way to where Izuku is standing. 

“Hello hello, what do you have for me today?” She’s all bubbly energy and wide smiles, kindness oozing from her pours like honey. It would be easy to mistake her for someone weak, and it makes him very happy to say that she’s anything but. She’s been dangerous this whole time, and she’s only gotten stronger with training. 

She stops right in front of him, hands behind her back as she waits for him to respond. Only, almost the second he opens his mouth, the door swings open once again. All of them look at the entrance, watching as an exhausted teenager steps inside, looks at the room, and freezes in place like a deer in the headlights. 

Izuku feels kind of bad for him. He hates it when people stare at him, and Shinsou seems far more allergic to social interaction. At least, that’s what Izuku assumes. 

“Over here.” Shinsou turns towards him, blinking a couple times before clearing his throat and walking over to where Izuku is standing with Ochaco. He’s wearing his school uniform, not his gym clothes, which makes sense. Izuku did invite him to watch after all, not participate. He’s focusing on Ochaco today. He promised to work with her once a week and work with her he shall. 

“Shinsou, this is Uraraka. Uraraka, Shinsou. He’s just going to watch, you have my undivided attention.” Ochaco smiles, turning towards Shinsou and holding out her hand. 

“Nice to meet you! Are you in class B?” Oh, right. He forgot to tell her. 

“...No. I’m in gen ed.” Izuku watches as he looks at Ochaco with a scrutinizing gaze, probably searching for even a hint of judgment. Of course, Ochaco doesn’t even flinch, her smile staying firmly in place and hand still outstretched. 

“Neat! Let me guess, sports festival? Gonna try to get in to the hero course? We have a spot open in 1-A! Maybe you’ll join us!” Good job Ochaco. She says just the right thing once again. Shinsou relaxes ever so slightly, still keeping his guard up but not being openly hostile. He takes her hand for a second before pulling away, taking a couple steps back and turning towards Izuku. 

“I’ll just... stand over there.” Izuku nods, letting him do as pleases. This is a chance for him to back out, so Izuku isn’t going to dictate how he takes in the information. He’ll be a little stricter if Shinsou decides to learn from him, but he won’t be a stickler quite yet. 

“Okay, show me what you’ve been practicing.” Ochaco beams, removing her shoes and stepping onto the mat without hesitation. Izuku does the same, and then, they start. 

For about fifteen minutes, she showcases her new skills. Each one is well practiced and almost perfected. Of course, there’s always room for improvement, but she’s pretty damn close to having it completely mastered. It’s impressive, how far she’s gotten in such little time. 

Again, she’s practically a prodigy, learning faster than he ever could and thinking on the fly with an accuracy that speaks of more than just practice. At this point, she might end up on his level by the end of the year. Maybe, if he doesn’t make any progress. If he gets into the groove of practice though... 

Yea, maybe. 

“Okay, good. Now, do you want to spar or do you want to learn something new?” She straightens out, shaking her arms a little before relaxing her stance. 

“Can we do a little of both? Teach me something new and then spar?” Of course she’d want to go beyond. Plus Ultra, or whatever the fuck they say at this stupid school. 

“Sure. Now, this is a trick I used against stronger opponents. You ready?” 

“Yes, Sensei!” He doesn’t roll his eyes, but Ochaco definitely notices his subconscious reaction, somehow. Instead of correcting her, he just moves on, starting the lesson without delay. 

For a good thirty minutes, he shows her how to practice a technique he learned on the fly. It’s a little difficult to find a way to explain it, but she seems to understand despite his rough explanation. Good, because there’s no way he’d be able to figure out a different way of explaining it. Other than throwing her into a ring and letting her duel it out while yelling tips in her direction. 

That’s not going to happen though, so he’ll need to make do. Then, when she seems confident enough to use his advice, he takes a step back and gets into position and tells her to have at him. She smiles a sharp excited smile, rushing forwards with impressive speed and striking without hesitation. 

He parries and pushes her to the side, but she’s ready, just like he taught her. She uses the momentum he creates to her advantage, lunging into a second attack in a move he can’t help but be impressed with. It’s sharp and not anything he taught her, using a multitude of his lesson to just barely land a hit on him before he manages to spin her around and deflect her attack.

 She ends up stumbling forwards a little, but she recovers fast, shifting her stance and kicking out with that same impressive speed. This time, he doesn’t hold back, knocking her to the floor and jumping back so she can’t attack again. She catches herself, rolling with the blow and jumping back on her feet like it never happened. 

The second she pulls down her shirt, she turns around with a questioning gaze, silently asking how she did. 

“I’m impressed. Good job.” She absolutely beams at that, looking like he just gave her some sort of trophy instead of a drab compliment. She even hops in place a few times, just as bubbly as always. 

While she enjoys her victory, Izuku glances at their audience. Kacchan is actually watching, which he didn’t expect, but he isn’t showing any emotion so Izuku can’t be sure what he’s thinking. Shinsou though, Shinsou is watching like a hawk. And is he... writing notes?

“Let’s go again!” Okay, focusing on Ochaco. 

They go through another spar, and another, and another, each better than the last, gaze latching on to his every move as she pieces together everything he’s taught her. It’s impressive, watching her grow in real time. It’s even more impressive how many blows she gets in. By the time they’re forced to stop, she’s hit him seven times. That’s five more than usual. 

Five. That’s a lot. Kaho was small and lithe and fast. He won using the element of surprise and using his opponent’s biases against them. They usually assumed that a simple bird quirk wouldn’t be able to help him at all, that their own quirks were ‘better’. That means they underestimated him. 

But there were some who didn’t, and Izuku beat them by not getting hit. He beat them with speed and vicious accuracy, not heavy blows and sturdy defense. He isn’t sturdy in any sense of the word, small and thin and just generally not good at taking blows. Sure he’s sturdier than regular civilians, but he wasn’t fighting regular civilians. He was fighting people with training, often far more than he ever got.

 That is to say, it’s hard to land a hit on him. Not impossible, but hard. Even Todoroki barely hit him, and that boy has been trained for many years. Probably longer than Izuku, if he’s being honest. Of course, Ochaco isn’t landing heavy blows on him, but they’re still blows. She still makes contact, still forces him to put up his guard. For someone who’s barely had two months of real training, that’s amazing. 

Izuku’s watch buzzes after their ninth round, telling him they’re nearing the end of their access to this gym. He lets himself relax and watches as Ochaco immediately clocks the shift and relaxes herself. They both take a second to recover, breathing deep breaths and shaking the tension out of their limbs.

“Ten minute cool down and then we need to leave.” She smiles and lifts both thumbs up in the air. 

“Sounds good Sensei!” Dear heavens. Her and her insistence on calling him Sensei. It is kind of funny though, so he never corrects her. 

Their cool down is simple and fast, the same cool down they use every time they train together. A few dynamic stretches and some static stretches, each one tailored to the muscles used when one spars. It leaves him feeling loose and wobbly like a cooked noodle. Which is a good thing.

Probably. 

“There. Do you need me to write you notes or are you good?” Ochaco wiggles her arms and hops in place a couple times before looking up with a smile. 

“I got it!” Izuku nods and stretches his arms above his head one last time, pops traveling up his back like a xylophone.

“Good. I’m going to hang back for a minute. Don’t wait for me, I’m going home a different route.” Izuku notices her subtly glance at Bakugou before turning around and throwing both thumbs up in the air. 

“Sweet! I’ll see you tomorrow then, Sensei.” He sighs ever so slightly. Not enough for most people to notice, but plenty enough for Ochaco to narrow in on. She chuckles at his friendly exasperation and he almost rolls his eyes in response. Almost.

“Yea, yea. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He watches her go for a minute, waving back when she gets to the door. The second she’s out of the building, Izuku glances at Kacchan before turning and walking towards where Shinsou is writing something down in a notebook. 

“Is there anything you want me to elaborate on?” Shinsou jerks, looking up from his notebook with tired eyes. 

“Uh, well... That thing she did where you tripped her up and she spun around. I hear people talk about how spinning during a fight leaves you vulnerable and that you shouldn’t do it. Did she just do it because it was a friendly spar or are there instances where it’s okay in a fight?” Ah, a good question. 

“It’s actually not as rare as you might think. If your opponent trips you up and you’re at risk of falling, then spinning to avoid that outcome is far better than being on the ground. And if you manage to stun your opponent, there are certain attacks that have more power when you spin, so you might as well use them when you can.”

Shinsou nods and writes something down in his notebook, pencil scraping against paper in a familiar tune. Izuku waits patiently, unbothered by the sudden lack of words. He writes all the time, so he understands the tunnel vision one can get when focused on a topic. 

The second the pencil stops writing, Shinsou looks back up, mouth opening and closing a couple times before he finally speaks. 

“One more, uh. Why did you go for her feet more than anything else?” So he noticed. Granted, it’s not a hard thing to notice, but at least Izuku knows he was paying attention now.

“Two reasons. That’s partially my style, I am often shorter than my opponents, so it’s easier to aim low. Secondly, Ochaco needs to learn to have a better base, so I target it every chance I get. She’s already learning how to counteract it, but she needs more practice before I switch to anything else. Of course, I don’t solely attack her legs, but that is my focus.” Shinsou doesn’t write anything down this time, nodding before slipping his notebook back into his bag. 

“Great... Thank you. And uh, thanks for letting me watch. I hope your, classmate, didn’t mind.” Izuku kind of wants to smile just to help Shinsou feel less anxious, but on top of hating the act of showing emotion, he’s also pretty sure that wouldn’t help this situation in the slightest. Better to not risk messing things up. 

“I’m sure she’s glad to help. Now, I’ll need that paper filled out by tonight if you want it next week.” Shinsou nods as he finishes zipping up his backpack, eventually standing straight and throwing the bag over his shoulder. 

“I already finished most of it. I’ll send it to you in a few hours. Uh, thanks. Again.” Izuku nods back, stepping to the side so Shinsou can walk past him uninterrupted. He watches him go, noting the tense shoulders and tight grip. Hopefully, things will get better the longer they work together. 

The second Shinsou is out of sight, Izuku takes a deep breath and walks towards where Kacchan is sitting on the floor, back leaning against the wall of the building. He’s staring at his phone, expression just as strange as it was earlier. 

“You ready to go home? Do you want to stop at the gym first?” Kacchan doesn’t jolt, looking up at him calmly, much too calmly. 

“I’m good. We can go home.” God that sounds weird. So, clinical. Not how Kacchan is supposed to sound at all. 

Man Izuku really fucked things up.

“Sounds good. Bus or walk?” Kacchan’s gaze shifts, staring at Izuku’s red wings with an unreadable expression. Well, unreadable to Izuku. Ochaco could probably figure it out. Either way, it may help to confirm that he’s fine with staying on the ground.

“I can do either. It’s a strange enough time for the buses to be clear.” That seems to work, red eyes turning away and pale hands picking up a scuffed up backpack. 

“Bus. But you can fly if you want. I’m fine.” Like hell is Izuku leaving his side right now. Not in a million years. Or at least, not yet. 

“I’m tired. I’ll ride the bus.” He walks away without waiting for a response, giving Kacchan no choice but to comply. After a couple seconds, he hears the sound of steps behind him, so he nods at Snipe and keeps on walking without pause. 

The ride home isn’t as bad as he worried it would be, bus almost empty and not wobbly enough for him to feel uncomfortable standing. It takes them a good thirty minutes to arrive, but that’s fine. It gives him time to plan out the rest of his day. 

The second they step into their home, Kacchan bolts upstairs and locks himself into his room. Izuku stares after him, not feeling particularly thrilled at the idea of him being alone, but knowledgeable enough to know that forcing him to be social would only make things worse. So, he says hi to Mitsuki and waves at Masaru, and goes into his own room without complaint. 

For the next two hours, he plans. He goes through all the steps, writes notes and options and different details until his hand aches. Then, he sighs and pulls out his homework and finishes that in under thirty minutes. It’s simple stuff he already knows, which makes sense considering the fact that it’s the first week of school. They’re probably trying to gauge where their students are, which is normal. 

An hour after he finishes his homework, a new email pops up in his inbox from a certain purple haired insomniac. He opens it and imminently starts a deep dive into the details. A few minutes in, he’s forced to take a break for dinner, but he’s back up and working on it ten minutes later. 

He keeps on working until ten, stretching out as he yawns before finally calling it quits and starting his bedtime routine. 

No matter how hard, no matter how annoying, this is one of the few things he still finds joy in. Planning, analyzing, writing. Focusing on lives that aren’t his own. This is what makes him comfortable on rainy days where his scars ache, this is what calms him down when anger bubbles up his throat. 

It doesn’t matter that he’s doing it for a hero hopeful. He’s good at this, and like he’ll is he going to push his responsibilities to the side. 

Like hell is he going to purposefully ignore the suffering in others.

Chapter Text

Midoriya Izuku, class 1-L. The only student in his class, and possibly the smartest student in the whole school.

Nezu scans the pages sitting on his desk, grinning at the loophole Midoriya slipped into the contract. Of course he saw it when he leafed through the pages, but it was so ingenious he couldn’t help but let it slip past his guard. It’s not a particularly large loophole, requiring multiple triggers in order to be put in place. 

But that in and of itself was part of what made it so ingenious. That, on top of the logic and widespread knowledge required to come up with it makes Nezu salivate at the mouth. 

Midoriya may not be the smartest support student (Hatsume Mei), or the highest scoring hero student (Yayorozu Momo), but he is by far the most discerning, clever, resourceful, and calculating student in the whole school. He can think on the fly without delay, he can fight with a focus that most pros can only dream of, and he can learn things far faster than any pupil Nezu has had so far. 

He can’t wait for their first lesson together. 

Not for the first time, Nezu glances at the schedule under his desk. Midoriya’s schedule, to be exact. 

Monday, general class from start to 12 pm. Then basics of support with Power Loader followed by free lab with class 1-H. Then heroics with All Might, and finally their weekly lesson. Every Monday, Izuku learns whatever Nezu deems he needs to learn. It will change and shift and it will be wonderful. 

Tuesday, same classes and an after school lesson with his first elective of the week. Wednesday, repeat of classes and a free slot that will likely be used for a lesson with Uraraka Ochaco or, surprisingly, Shinsou Hitoshi from class 1-C. That was not expected, but it only proves that Midoriya is just the person Nezu thought he was. 

Thursday, repeat, after school lesson with the second elective of the week. Or, once he’s chosen his second elective, a class with whomever he chooses. That was skipped this week because he chose to sit it out for some reason. Nezu won’t argue, he doesn’t feel like making Midoriya’s life any harder. Friday, final day of classes for the week and a free session after class. 

It’s the perfect schedule, and Nezu finds himself proud of his accomplishment. Next week will be Midoriya’s first one with his given schedule, and he can’t wait to see how he handles it. He can’t wait, and he can’t help but feel a deep dark satisfaction when he sees the hatred in Midoriya’s eyes. 

This boy has been broken by the system. 

The very same system that broke Nezu and left him to rot. 

Izuku wakes up on day five of school with a headache. He groans as he shifts in his bed, wings hitting the headboard with a painful thump as he tries to come to his senses with a pulsing pain behind his right eye. Cluster headaches, always in his right eye, always without warning, without rhyme or reason. 

Well, there is a reason. Multiple concussion he healed by drinking poisoned tea or skipping the tea and injecting the poison directly into his bloodstream. Dying heals him from the immediate injury. It doesn’t prevent the after effects. Except for broken bones. He doesn’t seem to have after effects for those... for some reason. 

Either way, he has to deal with a damn headache for no reason other than his own stupidity. So he rolls over and pulls open the drawer on his side table and pops some aspirin, swallowing them with a sip of water and grimacing as he feels them slide down his throat. This is why he avoids dying by overdose. It feels gross. 

Okay, deep breath, wait for them to kick in. Just a few more minutes, he can wait a few more minutes. Deep breaths, stay still, it hurts less when he doesn’t move. There, finally, relief. 

Now to get through the day without aggravating his head further. It’s Friday, which means no lesson after class. Good, he wants to train by himself at least one day this week. He’ll probably end up training after his lesson on Thursday from here on out. Maybe he’ll even get Aizawa on some of those days. That would be nice. 

Okay, focus on the day. 

His morning goes smoothly, which is nice. He does a short workout like usual and eats breakfast and brushes his teeth and leaves with a sigh as he remembers his plan to help Kacchan. The drive there is silent and suffocating, only the sound of pencil on paper ringing through the car. Kacchan refuses to look at him, and it only makes the suffocation worse. 

Thankfully, classes go smoothly, and he ends up working with Hatsume on her fancy boots for quite a while in a refreshing hour of learning new things hands on. It feels amazing, absorbing information that he didn’t already know. He almost smiles multiple times and finds himself wondering if hiding his emotions is really worth it. 

Heroics class is nice, simple, easy. A plain introduction to sparing, an introduction Eraserhead has drilled into his head since the moment they started training together. He can’t help but feel impressed at how well All Might explains the rules, even if he does check a notepad every now and then. It’s still far better than anything he’s done so far. 

They don’t actually spar yet, only going through the motions without a partner until it’s at least beginning to settle into their brains. Izuku finds himself slipping into the lesson with ease, and he notes that both Todoroki and Yayorozu seem well versed in the art of restraint. Good for them, though he doesn’t want to know how they know so much at such a young age.

Hopefully, they didn’t go through something like him, though that’s unlikely.

The second he’s set free, Izuku bolts to the gym Nezu gave him for the next two hours, not even bothering to change out of his hero uniform. It will be good practice, training in the suit he’ll be using for the foreseeable future. He stretches out and does a twenty minute workout before finally, finally getting down to it. 

It’s cathartic, running through drills without fear of someone watching him slip. He feels his lips stretch into a small grin, not active enough to fully fall into his usual state of mind. It’s plenty enough to stimulate him, so he’ll take it. Over and over again, he pushes and pushes himself until he’s almost over the edge. 

Then his timer rings, and he forces himself to stretch out and relax. His expression finally calms and his body settles down, shoulders slumping in relief at finally being able to release the pent up anger and frustration over the week. The punching bag has black marks from where he messed up and let his fire slip out. Just minor blemishes, nothing too damaging. 

Still annoying. 

He takes a few deep breaths before leaving, legs carrying him to the fitting room where he finally removes his uniform and takes a quick rinse in the on suit showers. It helps him loosen up that final inch, the lack of sticky sweat leaving him feeling fresh and relaxed. Good, he needed that. 

Day five ends with a deep dive into Shinsou’s paperwork. He analyzes and reanalyzes until he has everything he needs to make a comprehensive plan. Most of the questions were answered, which gives him plenty of wiggle room to work with, and more than enough information to do a deep dive into the details. 

By nine pm, he has half the work done and ready to be used. He’ll definitely have time to finish before the next school week starts. Once again, he forces himself to stop working and get ready for bed. His head is still aching ever so slightly, has been all day, but at least he can lay in a dark room for the rest of the night. 

Izuku falls asleep with a plan in his head. He wakes up gasping for air as the image of blood and ash slowly fades from view. His chest hurts, his head hurts, his mind is falling apart. 

And it’s nothing new, nothing surprising, nothing he can fix. 

He lets himself breathe until his chest no longer burns. He forces himself to close his eyes and relax until the pressure in his skull slowly lessens. He reminds himself that there’s nothing he can do about it, so there’s no need to linger, no need to try and fix things. There are no platitudes that help, no reassurances that will change anything.

It’s entirely possible that his nightmares may come to life once again, so there’s no reason to try and convince himself that everything’s fine. 

It’s not fine, and there’s nothing he can do about it. 

Twenty minutes later, the image is finally fuzzy enough to ignore and his body is no longer on guard. And just like every other morning, he gets up and starts his day.

It’s a little different on the weekends. He eats breakfast before he works out because he’s leaving the house to complete said workout. The food tastes bland on his tongue no matter how much seasoning he uses, so he doesn’t bother adding anything before scoffing it down and going back upstairs to change. 

Then, he starts the first step of his plan.

Five minutes before he leaves, Izuku knocks on the door right next to his, waiting patiently until it’s thrown open and red eyes lock onto him with an unreadable expression. Good, he answered the door. 

“I’m going to gym. Come with me.” Kacchan freezes, giving Izuku time to glance inside his room and note the packed gym bag sitting on a perfectly made bed. Wonderful, he got the time right. He was worried he’d be off by a few minutes and miss him or be too early and give him an excuse not to go. 

Kacchan seems to know that he has no reason to turn down the offer, especially with the way Izuku phrased it. After a few minutes of silence, he scowls before huffing and turning around to grab his gym bag without a word. Izuku nods in satisfaction and walks away in silence, pointedly not smiling when he hears footsteps behind him. 

The walk to the gym is relatively short. Izuku always wondered what this strange-looking building was, and now he knows. They both swipe their gold cards and walk in with their heads held high, saying hello to the receptionist like they’re old friends. The locker rooms are clean and fancy and have high tech lockers with fingerprint identification. Everyone has their own, assigned when they sign up for the gym. 

Not that Izuku signed up. No, he was sponsored by UA, so he doesn’t have to pay a dime. Apparently, Nezu was a key investor in their creation, so UA staff gets a free pass. That doesn’t apply to him though, so he’s not entirely sure how the sponsorship works, but he’s not going to question it. This place is far nicer than anything else he’s tried, so he’s not going to look a gift horse in the mouth. 

He approaches his workout different this time. Usually, he’d focus on bodyweight exercises and occasionally use weights for assistance, but Kacchan doesn’t do calisthenics. He does either boxing or weight training, sprinkling in a few bodyweight exercises here and there when needed. 

So, Izuku is doing weight training today. When he doesn’t slip away towards the backrooms, Kacchan looks at him with the same strange expression as that morning, staring for a few seconds before clenching his jaw and moving on. It’s strange, but not strange enough to deter him from his task. 

Izuku slips into the roll of spotter without a word, switching places every time Kacchan finishes a set. They do this every time a spotter is recommended and do the exercise at the same time when it’s not. It’s comfortable, despite the unfamiliarity. Izuku doesn’t change much about himself, but he makes sure to stay at his brother’s side through the whole workout.

That’s the first part of the plan. Kacchan needs to know he’s far better than anyone even remotely similar to Endeavor, and staying nearby is one way of telling him that. One way of proving that. They both know for a fact that Izuku would never willingly be around someone like Endeavor.

And it was Izuku who initiated this interaction, which means he’s not being forced. And he’s going to keep on initiating interactions just like this, no matter how small or inconvenient. He will do this, over and over again, willingly and with purpose.

This isn’t entirely his fault, but it mostly is. It feels like it’s been forever since he purposefully spent time with Kacchan, which probably only put fuel on the fire. It’s been hard, getting through life, but that doesn’t excuse his stupidity. Despite his emotionless act, Izuku does care about the Bakugou’s, and he is fond of the memories he has from before his life burned to the ground. 

Izuku sees Kacchan as a brother, which means he cares about him. Who doesn’t care about their brother? 

Well... some people, but not him. 

No matter how annoyed Kacchan’s hero worship or training or other loud activities made him, it never made Izuku lose the fondness sitting on his chest. He knows that Kacchan’s heart is in the right place, that he wants to save people. He may want to do it in a way that makes Izuku uncomfortable, but he’s nothing like Endeavor.

No, Endeavor doesn’t give a shit about saving people. He cares about numbers and statistics, nothing more. The only times he helps the victims of his own making is when the news turns their cameras to the ruble, and that doesn’t happen very often.

Kacchan would never do that. No, Kacchan prides himself in his control, his precision. He prides himself in the act of winning to save, not winning to win. He may be destructive, and he may need to work on his methods, but he is nothing like Endeavor, and Izuku will die on that hill.

Izuku will criticize Kacchan when he becomes a hero. He will criticize and nitpick and point out flaws every chance he gets, but he will do so because he knows Kacchan will take his words and change. He will do so because he knows his brother won’t ignore the words of others just because he has the power to do so.

So, Izuku breathes and curls his arm and grits his teeth right next to Kacchan who does the same. He stays, and he does so without questions or conditions or rules. He does so because he wants to. He wants to be here, wants to fix what he broke. It may be his duty to clean up the mess he made, but he does so willingly and without chagrin.

The workout itself is... different. Izuku finds it a tad more challenging than his usual routine, but more due to the unfamiliarity than the difficulty of the exercises themselves. His workouts are specifically designed to target as many muscle groups as possible, and each exercise often targets more than one at a time. That means targeting individual muscles makes him feel, well, uncomfortable. 

He pushes past that feeling though, not showing his discomfort and continuing to exercise despite whatever feelings he may have. Kacchan doesn’t seem to notice, and if he does, he’s doing a good job of hiding his knowledge. Either way, Izuku will continue until they stop. Together.

 There’s only one issue. 

You see, Izuku tries his best to stay in control. He practices regulated breathing and exercises using tight movements. He keeps his notebooks relatively tidy and his writing somewhat neat, always making sure to avoid triggering whatever anger or disgust lies under the surface of his skin. 

Unfortunately, there are certain actions he just can’t seem to control at the level he desires. Cooking is one, for some reason. He always finds himself singeing the cutting board whenever he needs to chop his ingredients. Another is flying, which makes more sense. He can never fully keep his emotions in check while soaring through the air. 

The list is actually far longer than he wished it was, at least twelve actions he tends to avoid if around other people. If no one is home, he’ll cook himself a meal or two. If he’s flying, he flies high enough to avoid the gaze of whoever happens to be below him. In general, he does those actions only when he can get away with it. 

Now, back to the issue. One of the biggest actions he’s had to avoid, is the act of going at a punching bag. No matter what he does, fire always bursts from his fingertips, always scorches the sturdy fabric below his fists. Which means he’s unsure what to do when faced with a line of punching bags and a Kacchan who’s carefully wrapping his fists. 

There are quite a few issues here. The most obvious, of course, is the punching part. No amount of self control is going to solve the issue. Another issue would be the fact that Izuku didn’t even pack his hand wraps. Also, there’s the fact that these are gyms owned by a business that Izuku wants to continue attending, which means no destruction of property.

He was okay with messing up the UA bags because he doesn’t even want to be there. Granted, it’s unfortunate that Nezu is likely aware of Izuku’s fire after that, but that was a sacrifice he was willing to make.

None of that has anything to do with the current issue. He likes this place, and he’s not all that interested in damaging their equipment no matter how noble the reason. So, he needs to find a way to not take part in this activity without ruining the progress he’s made. No matter how minuscule that progress may appear.

Okay, how to do this. It’s tricky, because leaving the moment borderline violence is taking place might send the wrong message. And Izuku isn’t particularly inclined to just tell him the truth, because that would be admitting that he can’t control his damn fire. But leaving without an explanation is also not the best idea.

Is there a safe option? Is there a way to back out without messing everything up? 

Unfortunately, things move fast, which means he has less than two minutes before Kacchan is pausing and looking up at him with a curious gaze. He’s halfway through wrapping his second hand, cloth held tight against the skin as he waits for Izuku to do something. Izuku, who still hasn’t found a solution, blurts out the first thing that comes to mind in a moment of panic.

 “I didn’t bring my wraps.” There’s a beat of silence where he tries to come up with a second sentence, eventually giving up and blurting out another statement. “I think I’ll sit this one out. Exercise my wings a bit.” Please don’t take it the wrong way, please be okay with it. 

There’s more silence for a minute, their eyes locked as the sound of punching and exercise machines ring through the building. It’s not particularly loud, but it sounds dramatic in the silence, though it doesn’t distract Izuku from watching Kacchan for even a hint of negativity. 

He almost shouts for joy when Kacchan just shrugs and nods with an understanding expression, completely void of self deprecation or dejection. Of course, he could be hiding his true feelings, but Izuku is going to choose to believe that expression for his own peace of mind. He can fix things later if he messed up in some way, but for now he’ll exercise his wings just as he said he would. 

For almost thirty minutes, Izuku goes through the motions of one of his more familiar workouts, as Kacchan goes at a punching bag a few feet away from him. It’s somewhat cathartic, seeing Kacchan perform an activity outside of the strange, placid nature he seems to have taken on. His breathing is controlled and his punches are strong, muscles straining as he lands hit after hit with impressive precision. 

It’s nice, seeing slivers of the old Kacchan. It’s nice, seeing that he’s not completely gone. Even if it only lasts half an hour, Izuku will still enjoy the momentary feeling of everything being somewhat normal. 

By the time that half hour ends, his wings are burning and the ache in his head is mostly gone. They walk to the locker rooms together, grab their bags together, walk out of the building together. The walk home is silent and calm, but Izuku can’t help but feel a sliver of pride because Kacchan is standing a little taller, eyes a little softer, jaw unclenched. 

It did something. Maybe not a lot, but it did something. His plan is working, and he’s going to continue down this path until the issue is fixed. He’s going to stay close, push past whatever walls have been put up. It’s working, and there’s more than enough time to reach his goal.

Home is silent when they walk in, an empty house, no parents to be seen. They must have gone out together, for some reason. Izuku isn’t sure what that reason is, but he doesn’t really care enough to find out. Kacchan doesn’t waste time, throwing on his slippers and speeding towards the shower. 

Izuku momentarily thanks Mitsuki’s exorbitant paycheck as he walks towards the second show. It’s slightly wider than the first, which helps when it comes to keeping his wings dry. They will get a little wet, and it will feel gross, but they won’t get drenched unless he wants them to. And the fact that the room itself is bigger really helps when it comes to drying off wherever the water splashes on his feathers. 

He tosses his gym bag into his room on his way there, closing the door behind him and continuing on his path. The bathroom is clean and a pleasant fragrance wafts from the wax melter on the counter. It’s on a timer, so he leaves it alone, taking a deep breath before moving on. 

The shower itself is nice, scorching hot water running down his skin, soothing his scars and relaxing his muscles. He just stands there for a solid ten minutes, listening to the music playing from the shower speakers as he just breathes. He’s always loved showers, and he kind of misses the baths he took while on that stupid tournament run. 

Who knows, maybe he’ll have one of those when he has his own house one day. It’s possible that he’ll be able to get a good job. He’s not against the use of familial connections, even if he’s not technically Mitsuki’s family. He’s still not exactly sure what he wants to go into, but that’s a problem for future Izuku, so he might as well focus on the present for now. 

Once he’s done soaking in the heat, he turns off the water and aggressively shakes his wings, trying to make the job of drying them off at least a tad bit easier. It works decently well, feathers fluffed up and no longer dripping on the shower floor. Of course, the walls are now wet, but the glass door has some sort of water repellent so it should be fine in terms of annoying stains. 

About ten minutes later, Izuku is sitting on his desk chair in comfortable clothes and fuzzy slippers. He’s wearing a shirt made for people with wings, which is a relief when you don’t want to struggle to get through tiny holes with sore arms and tired wings. 

It’s not even lunchtime, so Izuku has plenty of time to get in some computer work. A little planning here, a little homework there, a tad bit of analysis on some interesting villains sprinkled on top. And, of course, Shinsou’s plan. He’s almost done, but he’s going to let himself edit it tomorrow. 

Lunch is nice, a quick spicy meal Kacchan whipped up and practically threw at him when he walked down the stairs. It’s the first time Kacchan has fed him in a long time, so he can’t help but smile a little as he says thank you. Kacchan just stares at him for a second with yet another strange expression before grunting and walking to the table.

They eat in silence, thankfully a comfortable one, but still silence. The food is good and the milk helps curve the feeling of his tongue lighting on fire. Which is nothing like the feeling of actual fire on his tongue, but that may be different for normal people. Either way, his lips are tingling and his tongue is burning and he can’t help but feel satisfied with the familiarity of each flavor. 

Then lunch is finished and it’s back to paperwork. 

Mitsuki and Masaru get home at four twenty five, opening the door with a bang as they walk in with what sounds like a giant load of groceries. He can hear them talking, but can’t quite make out the words, his door making it sound muffled and fairly quiet. It doesn’t concern him though, so he continues his work, now sitting on the other end of his desk where a drawing system has been set up. 

He’s currently working on homework from Power Loader, a basic schematic he’s creating for a basic tool he’ll be using. He had the option of working on it with a 3d modeling system that had most of it prebuilt, but he finds this better for retaining the information. Even if he does have to draw it in multiple angles. 

By the time dinner comes around, he’s halfway done with his homework, mostly done with Shinsou’s plan, and finished with two of his five analysis projects. Of course, he’ll probably add more later, but he has the basics built up for now. 

Just like most other nights, he walks downstairs when Mitsuki knocks on his door, realizing that it’s the first time he’s seen her all day right before walking into the living room. It’s not unusual, but it is surprising for a Saturday. Usually she’s all over them, trying to get everyone to play a board game or something. And she does succeed every now and then. 

Whatever. They needed groceries anyway. And hey, she got to spend time with her husband. 

Saturday ends with Japchae and a rare family movie. Izuku joins them, sitting next to Kacchan on the couch as a final hurrah. Of course, as the pattern dictates, Kacchan stares at him for a solid minute with yet another strange expression before looking away and shifting in place. 

They eat popcorn and just spend time together, something Izuku usually skips without too much resistance from Aunty. Spending time with his family is part of the plan, because it’s entirely possible that Kacchan thinks he’s avoiding everyone specifically to avoid him. There has been three instances where he accepted an invite when Kacchan was busy, so he’s going to be careful and push past the uncomfortable pressure in his chest. 

He can’t be sure that it’s working yet, but Kacchan does seem softer than he did, even on the walk home. It might just be the movie, but Izuku will take it either way. He’ll take everything he can get, because this is going to be a long journey. 

Izuku goes to bed Saturday night with a full stomach and the image of Jason Bourne playing in his mind. He wakes up on Sunday feeling surprisingly good, no headache or nightmare in sight. He gets out of bed, groaning as he stretches out all his limbs. His wing brushes against the wall, feathers bending until he pulls the appendages back in, relaxing them against his back. 

Sunday, the first day of the week. Also known as his break day, even though he does do a five minute workout and thirty minute stretch before starting the day. It’s become habit at this point, and it’s not strenuous enough to actually affect his recovery. 

None of them are particularly religious, definitely not religious enough to go to any sort of gathering. So what do they do instead? Go to Doutor, of course. All three of them stare at Izuku in surprise when he comes downstairs dressed and ready at the time they usually leave. Makes sense, he hasn’t gone with them since Mitsuki felt comfortable leaving him home alone when he turned twelve. 

It’s kind of funny, seeing them all stare at him like he’s some sort of imposter. Of course, they don’t question him out loud, but boy does he get some funny looks. He has to hold down a laugh at multiple points, which is kind of refreshing. He still keeps his expression in check because he doesn’t feel like changing that much quite yet. 

Maybe when his mind stops trying to drag him underground. Maybe when the memories finally fade. Maybe then he can act like a normal human again. 

Would that be nice? Would leaving everything behind be better? How far will he have to go before finally being done, before finally feeling safe? 

Questions he doesn’t really want to ask. Questions for another time.

Breakfast is excellent, and he thankfully doesn’t need to talk all that much. They tend to eat in silence anyway, and the gaps between that is filled with chatter he doesn’t need to be a part of. Kacchan also stays silent, which is obviously something Mitsuki is concerned about. She tries to draw him out of his shell, but nothing works. 

Izuku pauses when she looks down at the table with defeat in her gaze. He waits for a second until she finally looks up, their eyes meeting as she freezes in place. He glances at Kacchan, then at her, trying to silently explain that he’s working on it. It takes her a second, but she ends up cluing in, her eyes going wide and shoulders relaxing ever so slightly as she smiles a small smile and nods with a sigh of relief. 

The rest of the day goes by quickly. Izuku finishes his homework, Shinsou’s plan, and two more analysis projects before dinner. His brain feels far too alive for the evening, so he eats slowly and does some meditation and takes a long shower and thankfully feels tired when nine pm comes around.

He falls asleep feeling hopeful, feeling like his plan might actually work. He falls asleep feeling like life might actually get better, that his mind might finally enjoy living instead of constantly wishing he could disappear. 

Maybe, things will get better. 

(If only the gods agreed.)

Chapter Text

Shoto doesn’t know what to make of Midoriya Izuku. 

His first reaction was one of curiosity, of wondering what could be going on behind his classmates blank stare. Then he saw that expression, that scarily familiar expression that made his blood run cold. He really thought he had Midoriya figured out, really thought that the danger behind that smile was all there was to it. 

But then he's being invited to spar and then he’s trying his best to teach a classmate how to fight and then he’s fighting Midoriya and things make less and less sense every minute that passes. Midoriya doesn’t spit acid and brimstone when people mess up. He doesn’t lash out or speak words dripping with venom. 

Except for that morning when he talked to Iida. 

And that damn expression as he watched Mineta run away in fear. 

So why is he acting so differently at different times? What changed? What’s stopping him from acting like a villain or like Endeavor or the dozens of other heroes like him? Is all this borderline kindness an act? Why does he fight without aiming to injure? How does he keep beating Shoto without using destructive force? How does he pin Shoto to the ground without making it feel like his shoulder is about to rip in two?

Nothing matches up, and that’s only the beginning. 

For the rest of the week, Midoriya keeps destroying his preconceived notions with clinical accuracy. Does he ignore Kaminari or tell him to mind his own business? No, he sits the class down and gives them an in depth lesson on analysis. Does he look at everyone in annoyance or tell them to stop looking at him when he goes through that obstacle course? No, he nods at them with a blank face before going back to what he was doing.

Does he look annoyed when the teachers give them a lesson on restraint? No, he nods along like he’s agreeing with every word spoken. 

Again, it makes no sense. He smiles like a villain and speaks with venom on his tongue, but only in certain situations that Shoto can’t quite understand. His eyes stay blank and his mouth stays relaxed, back straight but shoulders loose. That means he doesn’t show a single positive emotion, but it also means he doesn’t show any negative ones.

Shoto has no idea what to think of him, and now it’s the second week of school and he doesn’t know how to interact with the boy. Should he be careful? Should he make sure not to piss him off? Does he have to? What would he even do to avoid that? 

He has so many questions, and no answers, and god he’s so confused. 

There are bruises beneath his shirt where his father did everything Midoriya didn’t. There’s an ache in his bones reminding him of how he knew to be wary of his classmate in the first place. Except, maybe he was wrong? Maybe Midoriya isn’t actually dangerous? Maybe he keeps a blank face because of something in his past?

Maybe Shoto imagined the whole thing and can’t get it out of his head. 

That must be it. That must be why the very core of his being can’t help but pull away every time Midoriya gets close. He imagined something horrible in a moment of weakness and let it shape his perception of a totally innocent individual. That’s the only way to explain it without turning his brain to mush. 

Midoriya Izuku is a normal kid with some trauma. No more, no less. Shoto doesn’t need to be wary of training with him, doesn’t need to keep his distance for any reason other than protecting himself from unwanted interpersonal relationships. He might actually be a good person to be around, because he seems to repel others with his blank stare. 

Yes. Midoriya is a normal kid. 

( If only that we're true.)

Day six of UA. Izuku has been at this school for six days, and he really thought things were going to be okay, but now he just wants to find Nezu and punch him in the nose. Snout? Whatever, face. He wants to find Nezu, rip him a new one, and punch him in the face. 

Okay, why is Izuku so mad? That would be because of this godforsaken idiot who is running their hero class. All Might is so incredibly stupid, Izuku can only wonder how he hasn’t died yet. He really thought the whole idea of battle trials would be tossed, but apparently that was too naïve of him. 

For the love of all that is holy, who the hell approved of this? Who looked at this lesson plan and said ‘yea sure! Let’s allow All Might to pit four random teenagers with zero battle experience against each other!’? Who said that, seriously? Izuku wants to know. 

Oh, and let’s not forget that they’re missing a classmate, so one team is going to be mismatched. You know what? Let’s just-

“Yes, young Midoriya!”

“I’ll face a villain group alone.” Yea, remove a variable. Like hell is he going to try and team up with a random person. He’s just not going to do that, not when there’s another option available. 

All Might looks at him with surprise, but quickly recovers and throws up a thumb while smiling a rather... intense smile.

“That’s the spirit! Very well, I will remove you from the draw!” Izuku just nods, ignoring the stares of his classmates as he very pointedly does not take a deep breath. He listens as Yayorozu explains why it’s randomized and tries so very hard to not yell at her that first years aren’t supposed to face realistic situations. He watches from the back as the draw takes place, and as people start gathering together each time a team is made.

He keeps on watching until all the teams have been made and the second random draw is taking place. Ten balls, one for each team. This will be interesting despite the stupidity. It will be a good chance to analyze his class, a good time to see what he’s up against. He knows Yayorozu will come up with a good plan, but he doesn’t know enough about his other classmates to say either way. 

Yes, a very good chance to analyze.

He moves forwards a little, standing more in the center of the group as the teams are pitted against each other. He logs each one, slipping a notebook out of his uniform and quickly jotting down information. Then he hears his name and immediately looks up from his book. 

“Midoriya Izuku! You will be facing team C, Todoroki and Shoji.” Izuku glances at his villains, noting the uncertain expression on Todoroki’s face before it disappears, replaced by determination. Interesting, but not all that concerning right now. Izuku needs to think of his strategy, which he will definitely need if he wants to win this. 

Okay, how is this going to work?

Todoroki will probably ice the windows, and Izuku isn’t all that inclined to melt them, but he can probably break the ice if he rams into it hard enough. That could injure his shoulder though, so he’ll use that as a last resort. Shoji will likely stay with the bomb, which means he’ll need to fight Todoroki face to face if he goes inside, 

Maybe if he... Yea, that might work. 

“First up will be team A as heroes against Team E as villains! Everyone else to the monitor room!” Izuku follows after the rest of the class, glancing at the two teams staying behind. Ochaco and Yayorozu against Ashido and Aoyama. An interesting match up, and kind of disproportionate in terms of skill as far as Izuku knows. 

Team E only has one particularly good fighter, Mina, while Aoyama only has basic knowledge with martial arts. Not to mention the fact that neither of them seem well versed in the art of strategy. On the other side, both Ochaco and Yayorozu have at least some experience when it comes to martial arts and sparring. And on top of that, Yayorozu has extensive practice with strategizing and Uraraka isn't half bad herself.

Unless Izuku is off with his observations, the villains don’t stand a chance.

Unfortunate for them, but Izuku is more interested in how Ochaco will work with someone like Yayorozu. Will her enthusiasm outweigh Yayorozu’s lack of self confidence? Will it balance out and let them work together smoothly? It’s a powerful match up, if they communicate, and Ochaco is the queen of communicating. 

This will be interesting. 

Izuku doesn’t bother sneaking into the background this time, pulling out his notebook in the center of the class and starting his analysis without pause. Maybe it will encourage some of his classmates to do the same, something they all need practice with. 

Sure enough, he starts seeing a few of them pull out small notebooks with timid expressions, as though waiting to be reprimanded. It’s almost cute, how nervous they are. Of course, All Might doesn’t even notice, and even if he did, he probably wouldn’t give a damn. If he was smart, he might have actually suggested it before the matches were made. 

Unfortunately, that was too much to ask of the number one hero. Very disappointing, but nothing Izuku can do about it now. So, he watches the teams get ready, watches and waits as he’s prone to do. He keeps on writing notes, listening to Yayorozu plan their approach. 

It’s a good plan, and she wouldn’t have come up with it if it weren’t for all the carefully placed praises and questions Ochaco started the conversation with. Good job girl, you’re exceeding requirements already. Izuku will forever stand behind his... friend, and this time is no different. Though he’s not the only one noticing her accomplishments. 

That’s a good thing. She deserves to be recognized. 

“Now, let’s start the indoor person-to-person combat training with team A and team E!!” Why is All Might yelling? There’s literally no need, in the slightest. Very annoying. 

Whatever, it’s not his job to police his teachers. He already corrected the man once, so he’s not going to bother doing it again. Maybe he should have asked for this week's lesson plan so he could sit this out...

No, it’s fine, he can deal with this. 

Who knows, maybe it will be fun? Todoroki is strong and likely has practice in many areas. Izuku’s not entirely certain that he’ll be able to win, to be honest. If he used his full quirk and fought to injure, maybe, but no matter what All Might says, he’s not interested in being expelled for use of excessive force. No breaking bones, no dislocating shoulders, and probably no knocking out his opponent. 

That leaves discombobulation and temporary incapacitation. Or, better yet, finding a way to use the capture tape. It will likely be far weaker than Izuku would like, which is annoying, but he can figure something out. Maybe. 

Watching the match on the big screen, listening in on his classmates, it all reminds him of how good he is at predicting fights despite often lacking key information. He’s good at this, and he can’t quite remember why he stopped. It feels good, feels exciting, and the fact that it makes him feel at all is an experience he’s been chasing for years. Why did he stop? 

Who knows? Now’s not the time to analyze his past. Now’s the time to smile because Ochaco is holding the bomb and there’s been barely any property damage or particularly bad injuries to either team. His notebook has all the details of the fight written in sloppy handwriting, something he will tidy up when he gets home and has time to work on his own projects. 

Izuku watches as the teams shake hands, a sign of good sportsmanship through and through. They all return to the observation room together, two with grins and two with slightly sad smiles. All Might asks for them to guess the MVP. Izuku hears a few people shout out their guesses, each one tittering on about how cool Yayorozu was and blah blah blah. 

Izuku almost wants to ignore them and let the lesson continue, but then he looks up and notices Ochaco’s smile, a little too tight. 

“I think Uraraka and Yayorozu were equal in their participation.” Everyone jerks to look at him, a feeling he really doesn’t enjoy but somewhat expected. He just keeps himself from sighing and continues his explanation without prompting. 

“While Yayorozu came up with the plan, Uraraka not only asked the right questions to help with said plan but also carried out said plan with perfect accuracy. By themselves, they wouldn’t have been nearly as effective. They succeeded as a team, excelled even. I’m impressed with their teamwork, and believe they should share the title of MVP.”

He stops there, looking down at his notebook in an attempt to remove the feeling of eyes on his neck. There’s a beat of silence before All Might coughs into his fist and says that he agrees with Izuku’s analysis and moves on. 

Only, something catches Izuku’s eye. Something he saw in a flash, just a second, just a tiny inch. A red dripping substance on the hand All Might coughed into. 

Is that... blood? Izuku looks closely, halfway ignoring what’s going on as he tries to get a glimpse of the man’s hand one more time. But All Might seems to have something to hide, because he carefully keeps his hand out of view. What was that? Is he sick? 

On the topic of All Might, why is he even here to begin with? Is it related to his decreased activity level in the last few months? Izuku doesn’t like heroes, but he pays attention when it’s necessary. He knows how All Might has been showing up less and less often in the past few years. Is this why? Is he injured?

“Young Midoriya and team C! You can now go to your positions!” Izuku forces himself to look away from his teacher’s hand, swiftly slipping his notebook back into his uniform and starting the trek to the building. Todoroki and Shoji are right behind him, not talking to each other for some reason. Maybe they don’t want him to overhear their plan. Yeah, that’s probably it. 

Izuku stands outside the door as his opponents walk inside, watching them go until they take a turn and walk out of sight. That’s when he really starts planning. He already has a base idea, but he’ll need to build on it if he wants to make it a fully fleshed plan of attack. And this is an attack. Todoroki will likely aim to injure if need be, and Izuku isn’t taking any risks. 

He may not want to be here, but it’s better than jail. He's fully aware that his crimes don't just stop at being part of Kousei's empire. No, he also did plenty of illegal acts in those spars, some of which would get him a pretty hefty sentence. Aizawa and his rules taught him that much. 

‘ Okay, the first step might be, and then, possibly moving, yea that might work. Over here, or up here, maybe right here, a little here. No, he might, yea, maybe not, but possibly- Yes, that’s it, move that over here, push that back there. Aaand fly here. Perfect’ 

Okay, now he has a plan. 

“Now! Let’s start the indoor person-to-person combat training with team C and Midoriya Izuku!” Here goes nothing. 

He has a plan, he knows what to do, he’s got this. As long as Todoroki doesn’t do anything completely out there or stupid, he should have everything under control. And there’s no way he’d do something stupid. He’s got far too much training for that. 

Enough thinking, though. Time to act.

The first thing Izuku does is canvas the exterior. He scans the building, noting every window and what’s inside them, studying as much of the layout as he can from the outside. It’s not a normal building, not a very good example of your average office where crimes take place. It’s more like a maze, with hiding spots and twists and turns in seemingly random places. 

Was that on purpose, or were they just throwing it up on random using Cementoss as a personal builder? Either way, it works in Izuku’s favor if he follows plan a. 

Of course, that’s when things take a turn. 

Exactly three minutes in, Izuku is timing it, he hears a crackling and a sudden burst of cold air hits him in the face. He halts in place, wings beating behind him as he stares at the ice coated building with wide eyes.

How, what, huh?

What kind of strategy is this? Ice the building and try to catch the guy with a wing quirk off guard? What was the goal in the first place? Freeze his shoes to the ground? What if his opponent had a blunt instrument able to break the ice, which Izuku does have?

Speaking of which, does he have enough control to make sure Shoji wasn’t iced? What is going on in that boy’s head? This was not what Izuku expected. This is miraculously idiotic and basic and not at all a good plan! It’s almost like he has no idea how to use his ice!

Okay, calm down, this isn’t a personal insult against him. Probably. He just needs to adjust his expectations and move on. 

First note, the windows are frozen closed. The walls are frozen and likely the floor as well. That will make it slippery. Second note, the hallways are too thin to fly through for an extended period of time. Third note, he can see Shoji alone in a room with the bomb. 

Okay, time to act. 

First step, fly to the roof. Second step, use his lock pick to open the door. Third step, use his knife to chisel off the ice that’s keeping the door shut. Fourth step, open the door as silently as possible and press a nice convenient button on his shoes that gives him nice convenient spikes. 

Task one complete, time to enter the building.

His first step is slow and steady, making sure the muffle around his boots is working and no sound gets out. He presses his foot into the ground three times before stomping. Minimal sound, he’s good to go. Second step, flip down his visor and activate the thermal imaging feature that Power Loader enhanced using quirk technology over the weekend per Izuku’s request. 

Just as expected, Izuku looks down and immediately locks on to Shoji, who is fairly obvious on his sensors. He can’t see Todoroki though, so he’s probably too far away. This ice is already messing with his sensors, so multiple levels is likely too much stuff to look through. 

Once he’s confirmed his surroundings, Izuku flips back the visor and starts his trek down the building. Each step is silent, or at least, as silent as possible. He’s careful as he walks, fully aware that the spikes on his shoes aren’t quite as sturdy as what some would wear while actually walking on ice. He doesn’t have professional gear, not for this activity. 

It’s fine though, he can make do. And he is making do. By the time he’s found the stairs, he has yet to slip even once. Speaking of the stairs, this is where things get tricky. Walking down stairs covered in ice, not the easiest task even with spikes on his shoes. 

You know what, might as well just- 

Just when Izuku spreads his wings, getting ready to fly, he hears a familiar crackle-pop rushing towards him. One second, he’s on the ground, and the next he’s hovering in the air with a new layer of ice beneath his feet. Talk about good timing. 

He checks his watch, noting that it’s been exactly five minutes since the first layer. That either means he’s planning on doing it every five minutes, or that he’s doing it at random intervals. Either way, Izuku knows what it sounds like, so he should be good until he’s gotten close. 

Now, moving on. 

It’s easy to get down the stairs when he doesn’t need to use his feet, wings carrying him down until he’s gently lowering himself to the floor. He flips down his visor again, scanning his surroundings and noting the direction of the bomb and the fact that he can see a vaguely humanoid shape a decent bit below him. It’s likely Todoroki, and he seems to be searching for something. 

Probably Izuku. 

Good, let him search. There’s no need for them to fight, not if Izuku manages to finish this before they even meet. He’s not particularly interested in fighting someone who has professional training with his quirk. Izuku was trained in combat, but only one person has helped trained his actual his actual quirk and not in a way that is applicable for said combat.

So, Izuku returns the visor to its spot and starts winding through the hallways. He uses an old trick, following the wall to his right around corners and through hallways, carefully peaking into rooms as he passes them. He has a basic idea of where the bomb is, but the visor doesn't automatically give him a layout of the building. No, he’ll need to figure that out himself. 

“There are ten minutes remaining in this exercise!” Izuku flinches away from the receiver in his ear, barely keeping himself from grimacing in annoyance. He knows how much time he has left. He has a watch for fuck’s sake, why would he need an announcement shouted into his skull?

Whatever, he’ll just ignore it. 

Once again, he pauses, flipping down his visor and smiling ever so slightly when he sees Shoji two doors down. The ‘villain’ doesn’t seem to be aware of his existence, doing something with his hands as he stands there. Izuku double checks Todoroki’s position, noting that he’s now only one floor down, but still searching for Izuku without any sign of coming back any time soon. 

Good, he’ll finish this quickly. 

For the last time, Izuku flips up his visor, beginning his slow approach as he pulls out two canisters from the pouch he designed on his own thank you very much. Right before he gets to the room, his receiver crackles and comes to life, forcing him to pointedly not grimace once again. 

“Please do not use any bombs young Midoriya.” Ah, makes sense. Of course, he can’t respond verbally, so he finds the closest camera and nods with one hand holding up a thumb. There’s no more sound coming through the receiver, so he assumes everything is fine, continuing his approach until he’s standing right outside the correct door. 

He can hear Shoji moving around, feet shuffling on the floor every few seconds as though he’s bored. Izuku keeps his breathing as silent as possible, slow and steady and controlled. It's not easy, but he has plenty of practice keeping quiet.

He’s going to need to be careful. If he read the situation correctly, Shoji has enhanced hearing, so he’ll need to be completely silent if he want’s to get this done before he’s noticed. There will be a two second delay, and Izuku knows very well how long two seconds stretch out in a fight. He’s defeated opponents in one, for heaven’s sake. 

Okay, one more deep breath, In, out. 

Start. 

Izuku pulls the pin, carefully listening as Shoji makes a sharp movement. He counts to one and tosses the canister, listening as the hiss of gas fills the room until smoke starts pouring into the hallway. That’s when he moves, staying low as he rushes towards Shoji. 

“Todoroki! He’s up here!!!” That’s, an interesting choice. 

“Shoji has been captured!” Shoji yelps and looks down at his wrist where a thin strip of capture tape is wrapped against his skin. He turns around just in time to see Izuku touch the bomb and stand up, revealing himself from out of the smoke. 

“Midoriya Izuku has secured the weapon and won the trial!” Izuku stands there, staring at a shocked Shoji with a blank face. He’s somewhat curious about what’s behind that mask, but asking that would be rude of him. Plenty of people hide behind masks in this world, and he has no right to expect anything from them. That’s just how things are, no matter how curious he gets. 

His train of thought is halted by the sound of footsteps rushing up the stairs, each one accompanied by a sizzling noise for some reason. Fifteen seconds later, Todoroki is stepping into the room with confusion written all over his face. He looks at the smoke, then up at Izuku, then at Shoji who is still looking rather shocked. 

Izuku watches as Todoroki looks between all the different elements, expression eventually shifting to one of determination.

“How did you get inside? I iced the windows.” Izuku nods before speaking. 

“I used the door on the roof.”

...

“There was a door on the roof?”

The walk back to the observation room is just a tad bit tense. Todoroki keeps glancing at him with an unreadable expression, and Izuku really wants to know what it means, but again, he’s not Ochaco. Shoji is slouching, eyes a little sad as though he’s feeling sorry for himself. It’s understandable. Izuku would also feel a little sorry for himself if a teenager a foot shorter than him defeated him without a fight. 

The second they walk into the observation room, everyone turns to stare at him. He almost freezes up and walks back outside, but forces himself to keep walking with his eyes looking at the wall behind his classmates. He stands a little to the right of Todoroki and Shoji, off on his own, lacking a teammate. 

“Alright! Who do you think the MVP was!?” All Might is as loud as ever, and Izuku is very glad he took out his earpiece before walking in because he just heard it ring in his pocket. 

Of course, their teacher being loud means the class thinks they can be loud. And to be fair, they’re probably right. Half the class is shouting over each other, talking about how Izuku won or how Todoroki had a plan or how blah blah blah blah. Izuku tunes it out after five seconds, going back to staring at the wall behind everyone. 

“Excuse me!” That makes him look away from the wall, eyes landing on a very refined looking Yayorozu. Her hands aren’t on her hips or anything, daintily held in front of her like a true rich girl. Everyone stops talking, turning to look at her with anticipation in their gaze. The class rep, the smartest student in the class. Or at least, who everyone thinks is the smartest person in their class. They would likely be right, but they don’t yet have actual confirmation yet. 

That’s not important, though. 

“While Todoroki did indeed have a plan, he executed it without knowledge of his surroundings and that led to their loss. Midoriya not only surveyed his surroundings, but also came up with a sound plan and wrote it in his notebook. I was unable to read the whole thing, but I saw bits and pieces. 

Why didn’t he use that plan? Well, simply because he knew Todoroki-kun made an error in judgment. So, he took advantage of that and approached the situation in a simple, yet effective manner. Just because it wasn’t fancy or flashy or complicated doesn’t make it any worse. If anything, the simpler the plan, the better. You’re less likely to mess up a simple plan in most cases, which would be the goal in the real world.

He also approached Shoji with the intent to capture, not to injure like many would. Even I approached the situation with violence because I thought that would be simpler, but Midoriya proved that line of thinking incorrect.

Using the smoke bomb to cloak his movements and also being able to hide his wings despite their large size is quite an impressive skill set. He captured Shoji quickly and efficiently without a single injury and then went straight to the bomb without even a second delay.

Overall, Midoriya-kun came up with two separate plans of attack in under five minutes, one of which took him less than two. That shows an impressive amount of mental flexibility and prowess. Not to mention how he showcased his physical skills without entering a fight even once, all of which gave him the win seven minutes before his time ran out.

Not only is that proof of his title as MVP, but it is also proof that he may be smarter than every single student in this class.” And then she crosses her arms and nods, a smile on her face as she looks at him with approval in her gaze. 

The class is completely silent, and Izuku can’t help but agree with their shocked expressions. He himself feels a little out of it to be honest. The smartest student in the class? Isn’t that stretching things a bit? Sure he came up with a plan in a few minutes, but they weren’t the best plans he’s ever created. Not by far. 

And sure he’s decent when it comes to controlling his wings, but he’s lived with them almost his whole life, of course he’d be good at controlling them! And yeah no one got hurt, but that’s only because he surprised Shoji enough for him to not attack. All her points weren’t difficult endeavors, only simple ones. One’s others rarely think of, simply because they’re simple. 

That’s why he uses them. 

Whatever. She's probably just seeing connections between them thanks to their shared love of stratagem. He has plenty of skills, but he’s not particularly smart or strong. He may be better prepared for these activities thanks to his history, but that’s all. No need to over think things.

“But what about Todoroki? Isn’t he like, super smart, being Endeavor’s son and all?” Izuku almost wants to slap Kaminari when he sees Todoroki stiffen in the corner of his eye. God, that boy is an idiot. He’s not stupid, he couldn’t get into UA while being stupid, but he sure is an idiot. 

“Yes, Todoroki had a solid plan, but again, he-“ Of course, that’s when Izuku’s mind decides to speak up and blurt out the words he’s been trying to keep locked up in his brain. 

“What even was the plan?” Everyone jerks to look at him yet again, making his skin itch beneath his clothes. God, he hates it when people look at him. 

“What are you asking?” Todoroki is looking at him with a sliver of anger in his gaze, but Izuku really doesn’t care. 

“What was it? Were you just going to ice the whole building at random intervals and hope I get stuck in the layers? Were you expecting to ignore the property damage because you were a villain? What were you going to do if the bomb was temperature controlled? Shoji's shoes were covered in ice, did you not tell him when you were going to send out another wave of ice or did he just not jump at the right time?

You were fighting someone with a wing quirk, why would you rely on something that involves catching a person by their feet? Even if you did catch me, what if I had a blunt instrument, which I do, and was able to just break out of it? Were you hoping I’d do that and give away my position?

Why did you leave Shoji with the bomb instead of guarding the window and waiting me out? I could have broken through that window if I really wanted to. I broke through that door easy enough. Put a sharp thing in front of me and fly into it as fast as I can and voila, I’m in and I only need to fly a few feet to touch the bomb because you put it next to the window.

Why were you so reliant on your ice when you obviously don’t have particularly good control of it?” Todoroki had been growing more and more angered as Izuku went along, but that statement seems to shock him out of his anger. He jerks back, eyes wide, but Izuku doesn’t stop. 

“It’s definitely not your whole quirk. Whatever it is, using only your ice obviously hurts you and slows you down if you use it too long. It may be a strong quirk, but you’re acting like you don’t even know how to use it, which doesn’t make sense.” Izuku pauses there, noting how Todoroki isn’t looking too good. His skin is a little too pale, eyes a little too wide, hands shaking ever so slightly, jaw clenched. 

...

Okay, maybe he took that too far. 

“So... yeah. What was your plan?” He tries to say it softly, not as aggressive as his rant came out. Why was he being so aggressive? And why did he do that in front of the whole class? 

Yea, he definitely took that too far.

Which means he isn’t all that surprised when Todoroki turns around and storms out of the building without a single word. Everyone is staring, watching him go and then turning to look at Izuku once more. He continues to look at the door Todoroki walked through, wondering why on earth he did that as he tries not to follow after the boy. 

That wouldn’t be a good idea. He already fucked things up enough, even though he still isn’t entirely sure how. Whatever he did wasn’t good, so he better give Todoroki space for the foreseeable future. 

“Anyway! Let’s move on!” Izuku happily lets All Might continue his lesson, moving to the back of the class and waiting. 

Over the next hour, he watches as each team completes their trial. Kacchan ends up as a hero and completes his trial by climbing the wall, breaking the window, and climbing into the room to grab the bomb before any of the villains have time to recover from their shock.

That’s the only one he really pays any attention to though, all the other ones passing by in a blur as he waits for the class to be over.

He really messed up this time, and he’s not sure how to fix it. He’s not even sure if he should fix it, or if Todoroki would prefer he just pretend like it never happened. He isn’t sure what to do, so he’ll just try to not think about it right now.

Class ends on time, and Izuku leaves the room with questions in his head and not a single answer to be found.

What a perfect day to have an extra lesson after everything. Just great. Wonderful. Amazing.

Can you tell he’s being sarcastic?

Well, he’s being sarcastic.

Chapter Text

“Now, Midoriya, how would you define a villain?”

Izuku pauses, bag halfway to the floor as he looks up at his teacher in confusion. Nezu stares at him with crossed paws and that weird smile, looking far too happy for Izuku’s liking. Granted, most people look far too happy for Izuku’s liking, but this is different. It’s fake, and in a way most people might not catch. 

Izuku can catch it, and he kind of wishes he couldn’t right now. 

“A villain is an individual who uses their Quirk to commit crimes, cause destruction, and/or put lives at stake.” He lets his bag drop the rest of the way to the floor, placing his notebook in the center of the table and grabbing a pencil from Nezu’s jar without permission. It’s the little things. 

“Yes, well, I didn’t ask you the legal definition of a villain. I asked, how you would define a villain.” That makes him pause again, this time for a different reason. How he would define a villain. That’s... an interesting question. Though he’ll need some clarification to answer.

“How I would define those the government labels as villains, or how I would define the concept?” Nezu’s smile grows, and this one is not in any way happy. It looks predatory and sharp, not the type of smile a principal should be seen with. It doesn’t matter though, Izuku isn’t here to police the principal. He’s here to learn what he can and leave the second he’s allowed. 

“The concept.” Short and sweet, just how Izuku likes it. And also rather creepy, but he chooses to ignore that. 

Either way, he’s forced to pause, eyebrows furrowing as he tries to come up with an answer. It’s not a question he’s ever asked himself, and the teachers at Aldera never really had any stimulating questions to ask like this one. They mostly told them to read a textbook, proceeded to read the textbook to them anyway, and then tested them using a multiple choice sheet with the correct answer and three stupid answers only an idiot would choose. 

So, no, no one has asked him a question like this. Not even himself, if he’s being honest. It never really came up amongst all the conflict and pain, a distant idea when faced with day after day of forcing himself through life. He didn’t really have any other choice, after all. 

Now, how would he define the concept of a villain? It’s a thought provoking question and interesting to boot. Villains are complex and lie on a vast range, one that is different for each individual. Some people think that premeditated murder would automatically make someone a villain, but what if it was a mother killing her child’s rapist? What if it was an individual whose only means of escaping a horrible situation was to kill their captor or abuser?

Even outside of killing, there are other actions people may see as villainous. Destruction of property? Heroes do that. Stealing? It was for their starving child. Illegal quirk use? It was a life or death situation. Most ‘evil’ deeds include the actions of individuals who are not villainous in any way. And most ‘villains’ do what they do for a purpose they really believe in.

Of course, not all, but most.

Who draws the line? Who decides the start and who chooses the end? There’s no real metric, no gauge, no guide. That line is different for every person, and that includes villains themselves. Some villains may think of themselves as heroes, while others may be proud of the fact that they’re a villain. 

So how does Izuku define that? How does he decide what makes a person inherently evil? How does he choose when something is okay and when it isn’t? So many things are circumstantial, so many things are reliant on individual belief. Does someone’s sense of self affect the moral standing of their actions? In what circumstances does a person’s intentions change how they should be viewed. 

It doesn’t matter how good it was intended, poisoning a whole village is evil, right? But what if they were at war? What if that village did something horrendous to the ones who poisoned them? 

But it isn’t just people who do something evil with the intent of evil, because there are circumstances where an individual means well but does something impermissible. Someone could kidnap quirkless children and use them as test subjects to try and save millions of lives. They tried to do something good, but that in no way excuses their actions. 

In reality, it seems like multiple definitions would be needed. That each type of villain would have their own section of the dictionary. But Nezu didn’t ask him for that, he asked for how he would define the concept of a villain. So, let’s narrow it down.

 Individuals who do evil with the intent of evil, villain. Individuals who do impermissible deeds with good intent, villain. Individuals who incite incredible violence in situations where it’s not needed, villain. Individuals who allow collateral damage to a drastic degree without actual need, villain.

And the list goes on. 

Izuku taps the pencil against his lip, staring at a coaster as he thinks. Nezu doesn’t move, patiently waiting for him to answer without even a hint of annoyance. For almost five minutes, he thinks, but he does come up with an answer. 

Before speaking, he moves the pencil away from his face and sits up straight, looking at his teacher without blinking.

“A villain is an individual who willingly commits or attempts to commit impermissible acts, regardless of their intentions.” Simple, but should work. Honestly shouldn’t have taken him this long to figure out, but he’ll give himself a break. He’s tired, and Nezu is scary. 

“Wonderful! I completely agree. Now, how would you define a hero?” Okay, should be easier now that he’s gotten through the existential crisis. 

“An individual who purposefully performs acts of selflessness in an attempt to help others.” Also simple, but not incorrect. As far as he can tell. 

“And vigilantes?” Oh, so he’s just pulling out the trio. Kind of random, but okay. 

“An individual who performs acts in an attempt to do good outside of legal routes, sometimes through morally questionable means, but never to the extent of a villain.” A little longer, but should be good enough. It’s an interesting train of questions, and he’s not sure there’s one correct answer. 

Where is Nezu going with this?

“Good good. Now, does one’s mental state affect their standing as one of those three?” Once again, Izuku stops, thinking back on his thoughts before his first answer. It feels like it should be a simple no, but really, it’s complicated. Well, may as well play it safe. 

“It depends on the circumstances.” The second the words spill out of his mouth, he wants to shove them right back inside and fly out the window. And maybe fall just in case his quirk stopped working for a second. 

Why? Well, because Nezu suddenly looks so excited, Izuku is genuinely worried for his own safety. 

“Wonderful, wonderful! Now, that brings us to our lesson for the day!” The stoat picks up a remote and presses a button, the room going dark, one bright light illuminating them as what looks like a power point presentation pops up on the wall. 

“The Psychology of Villains!”

...

Oh, this will be fun.

Izuku walks out of Nezu’s office one hour later with his head buzzing like a beehive as he blinks away the spots in his vision. It felt like he was in there for far longer than an hour, mounds of information shoved into his head like a dumpster with his only break being the dainty sip of tea Nezu would take every five minutes. 

He knew it was going to be harder than his other classes, but damn, that was a lot. Like, he’s never shoved that much information into such a short period even when it came to his hyperfixations. That was more than a lot. That was an info dump of immense proportions. 

He can’t wait to do it again. 

But for now, he can focus on his next task. Which is meeting Shinsou at gym five to give him his fancy new training plan. There are quite a few pages, and it’ll take him a second to explain everything, but it wasn’t all that difficult to make. Just because it took a while doesn’t mean it was hard. And the same goes for the other direction. Something fast can be exceptionally difficult, which he just experienced firsthand.

The walk to gym five is fairly short, but long enough for the buzzing behind his eyeballs to dissipate ever so slightly. And there are no more spots in his vision, which is nice. 

Ten minutes after Izuku leaves his first personal lesson with Nezu, he steps into one of six gyms that contain exercise equipment. One for each class, from first years to third, both A and B. Granted, there are often far fewer third years than first, which probably won’t change anytime soon. 

Either way, gym five is currently almost entirely empty sans Present Mic and Shinsou Hitoshi. Shinsou is glaring at the smith machine for some reason, but that’s none of Izuku’s business. All he cares about is that the glare disappears when Shinsou turns around to look at him, eyes just as tired as they were the last time Izuku saw him. 

“Thank you for waiting.” Shinsou blinks a couple times before shrugging and moving to look at the small packet of paper in Izuku’s hands. 

“No worries, Mr. Special Student.” He seems somewhat nervous for some reason, eyes flickering around the room every few seconds like he’s looking for something. It’s... interesting. 

“Here, let’s sit down.” Izuku grabs a bench and picks it up, placing it next to a second bench so there’s room for them to sit next to eachother. When he looks up, Shinsou is staring at him with wide eyes, like he just did something surprising. It’s not what he expected, but he really doesn’t care enough to figure out what he did, so he just places the paper on his lap and motions towards the spot to his right. 

After a few more seconds of staring, Shinsou finally blinks and moves to sit down, the tension in his frame almost making Izuku curious. Is this that fear from their initial meeting? Is that still around? Or maybe this is something else that Izuku doesn’t know about.

Either way, there’s no point in drawing attention to it. If he continues to act as non threateningly as possible, he should eventually earn enough trust for this fear to go away. He just needs to bear with the process. He’s worked with children before, and what is a teenager but a child with more responsibilities?

“Okay, let’s get into this. I have five pages, but most of it is self explanatory. I’ll just cover the stuff that might be confusing and let you figure out the rest.” Shinsou nods, and glances around the room once more before finally looking at the packet. Izuku doesn’t push, just starting his explanation without question. 

He begins with a rundown of the basic day to day before moving on to the details, pointing out individual sections with ease. It’s his work, he knows what’s in it. It hasn’t been long enough for him to forget any of the details, which means he barely needs to look at the papers to elaborate. 

It takes about twenty minutes, which isn’t horrible timing considering the fact that he took questions as they went. He pauses when his explanation is done, taking a big drink from his water bottle before putting it back in his bag and handing the papers to Shinsou with a nod. 

“Here, look through them. Make sure you have everything.” For a good five minutes, Shinsou does as told, pointing out details and asking questions as he leafs through the pages. It’s a decent amount of information to process, but he does fairly well considering the tension in his shoulders. 

The longer that tension stays, the more curious Izuku grows. It’s entirely likely that he’s just not comfortable around Izuku yet, that he’s nervous to be talking one on one with someone like him, but it feels like something else. He doesn’t know why, but it really feels like something else. 

Whatever it is, he can’t figure it out before Shinsou finishes with his questions and slips the papers into his backpack. They stand up at the same time, Izuku shaking his wings ever so slightly to try and straighten out the feathers. The itch goes away, so it must work, attention going back to Shinsou who looks like he doesn’t know what to do. He’s glancing all around the room again, a habit born of fear. 

Curious. 

“Do you need anything else right now? You can always text me questions.” Shinsou doesn’t flinch, but it looks like he wanted to, turning to look at Izuku just a little too fast. 

“Uh, I think I’m good... Thank you for, everything.” He glances at the door again. 

“You’re welcome. Just remember not to overwork yourself. I gave you everything you need. Follow it perfectly, and you should be fine.” He nods this time, glancing at his bag where the papers lie. 

“And let me guess, I can’t deviate from the meal plan either.” Was that supposed to be a joke? Maybe... Izuku can’t tell.

“You can deviate a little, but not a ton. You want to keep the calories and protein intake at least mostly similar, but you can switch out meals and food choices. I did use your guide to make what’s written, though, so you shouldn’t need to change much.” Shinsou blinks at him a few times, which means it probably was a joke and Izuku just completely missed it. He has a bad habit of doing that. 

“...Sounds good.” He glances at the door again. This time, his eyes linger for a few seconds, like he’s debating the merits of leaving. Maybe he needs a little push. 

“I think that’s all. I’ll see you Wednesday?” Shinsou stares for a third time, blinking before shifting and nodding. 

“Yea. I’ll see you Wednesday.” Thankfully, that works, pushing Shinsou to pick up his bag and walk towards the exit. He only looks behind himself once before moving on, nodding at the teacher on his way out. 

Izuku waits for a few minutes, staring at the closed door, wondering what is going on in Shinsou’s head. He was so distracted, so antsy. Why is it bothering Izuku this much? He’s had people look downright terrified of him, had people flinch back at his every movement. This shouldn’t bother him. 

After he fails to come up with an answer, he sighs and makes his way towards the front. Just when he’s about to step towards the door, he pauses, looking at his teacher, who is staring at a book. Present Mic, who Izuku is pretty sure is the homeroom teacher of one of the gen ed classes. 

Maybe...

“Sensei.” Mic jerks, looking up at Izuku in surprise, but quickly putting down his book with a wide smile. 

“Yes, little listener?” Here goes nothing. 

“Are you Shinsou’s homeroom teacher?” The surprise comes back fairly quickly, which is probably at least partially because Izuku asked in English. That fact is also probably why his teacher’s smile only grows after a few seconds of silence. 

“Yup! Why?” Jackpot. 

“Does he usually watch the exits?” Mic pauses, smile dampening as he appears to think about the question. That’s all the answer Izuku needs.

“I don’t think I can-“

“That’s fine, Sensei. Thank you.” Izuku barely sees Mic’s surprised expression before he turns away, walking towards the door with his head held high. 

So, this isn’t something to do with Izuku. This is something to do with his past. It makes sense, and Izuku can’t help but feel a little better now that he knows Shinsou has this issue with more than just him. It still sucks that he feels the need to be constantly aware of his surroundings, but Izuku can’t help but be excited to shift that habit into something more productive. 

Situational awareness is an important part of hero work, and it makes scanning your surroundings far easier. It also makes it so it’s not as obvious when you do it. He’ll need to focus on that, maybe stay after his extracurriculars a few times to get in some extra training. Hopefully, Shinsou will be free to do that.

For now, though, Izuku needs to go home and spend time with his family. He’s only just started with Kacchan, and he needs to push forward until he’s done. That means spending time with them in the backyard on Mondays while Masaru grills fish and chicken. It’s been quite a long time since he last joined them. Years, if he’s remembering correctly. 

He flies home this time, slow and steady, enjoying the view. It’s peaceful in the air, though it’s hard to fly fast without an eye mask. Bugs are an issue, and the pro hero Hawks has those stupid goggles for a reason. So yes, Izuku goes slow, hovering every now and then when he sees an interesting person below. 

He gets home twenty seven minutes after flying over UA’s gates, feet gently landing on his front porch and wings shaking out behind him as the feathers settle. Before stepping inside, he pauses, taking a deep breath and stealing himself for what feels like the hundredth time in the last four days alone. 

It’s fine, he’s fine, he can do this. 

The foyer is empty when he steps inside, so he can remove his shoes and slip on his slippers in peace. The slippers are green, just like everything he owns (other than his shoes and backpack). Now’s not the time to think about his slippers though, it’s time to find Kacchan and compliment him on his strategy from their Heroics class. 

Neither Masaru nor Mitsuki are home yet, which means it’s just him and Kacchan unless he’s actually alone and Kacchan is out doing something. Which probably isn’t the case, considering the fact that his shoes are on the rack and his slippers are missing. Yeah, it’s probably just him and Kacchan. 

So, instead of bolting directly to his room, Izuku takes it slow. He grabs a glass of water and drinks the whole thing before even starting to make his way up the stairs. Then, when he’s done with that, he stares at Kacchan’s door for a second before chickening out and walking towards the bathroom. 

He takes a few seconds in there, splashing water on his face and using a quirk made oil to smooth out some of his feathers. He would use his own, but it’s annoying to reach and he doesn’t feel like dealing with that most days. Especially when he’s just fixing a couple feathers here and there. 

When that’s done, he once again finds himself standing in the hallway, staring at Kacchan’s door with a clenched jaw and tense shoulders as he tries to force himself forwards. Why he’s having so much difficulty doing this simple task? He has no idea, but he really doesn’t feel like micro-analyzing himself right now so he’s just going to focus on forcing his feet to move. 

He finally succeeds somewhere around the seventh attempt, slippers quietly moving across the wooden floor until he’s standing in front of a familiar door with a lump in his throat. Talking will be difficult, but he can deal with that. 

After a few seconds of the same hesitation, he manages to knock on the door before quickly pulling his hand away and shoving it in his pocket, barely keeping himself from biting his lips. That’s not something you want to do with sharp teeth, not at all. 

Now, on the topic of talking to Kacchan. He expected the response to be either silence or a question, not the door aggressively swinging open and a grumpy looking Kacchan popping out and angrily blurting “What?” before realizing that it’s Izuku at the door and freezing in place. 

Right. Izuku doesn’t knock on his door. He forgot about that.

Kacchan is looking at him in surprise, like the last thing he expected was to see Izuku of all people. Which, to be fair, is usually accurate. Again, Izuku doesn’t knock on people’s doors, that’s just not his thing. If he needs help, he texts them. He doesn’t talk to them in person, and he barely ever asks for help. Almost never, to be honest. 

Well, it’s too late to leave, so he might as well force himself to at least attempt a half decent sentence. 

“I’m analyzing today’s heroics class. Want to join me?” Okay, that should be good. He didn’t stutter, he didn’t say something weird, he did good. Now he just needs to wait for a response. 

And wait. 

And wait. 

And wait. 

....

Okay what’s going on? 

Kacchan hasn’t stopped staring at him, though his brow is now furrowed as red eyes scan him over and over again as though searching for something. Izuku doesn’t move, which obviously means it’s the perfect time for a specific spot on his wing to get itchy. Just amazing, excellent, wonderful, what perfect timing. 

He ignores it, with difficulty, focusing on keeping his body loose and relaxed. Kacchan continues to stare, continues to look at him with a subtle glare, scanning him for something Izuku really wants to give because, god this is getting nerve wracking. He can’t move though, even if he doesn’t know why. 

“What are you doing?” Oh, they’re doing this now? Okay, uh... how does he respond to that without messing everything up?

“I’m analyzing-“

“No, no. Why are you asking me to do stuff with you? What are you doing?” Okay, no way to work around it. Unfortunate. 

“I’m trying to spend time with you.” Kacchan scoffs and rolls his eyes, shifting so he’s leaning against the door frame. 

“Bullshit.” Oop. “You’ve been avoiding us for years, and you want me to believe you just want to spend time with me?” That’s fair. “No, what do you want? What are you doing? What changed? This is, what, pity? You think I need something from you because I fucked up?” Well, damn, this is not how he expected things to go. 

“I don’t need your pity or your help. I’m fine, I can deal with this by myself. So stop pushing yourself outside of your comfort zone and go back to ignoring us, okay?” Izuku has less than a second to think before Kacchan is closing the door, which means he doesn’t think when he reaches up and stops the door in its tracks. 

Kacchan spins around, looking at him in surprise. Izuku’s just glad it’s not anger. 

“I don’t pity you, and no, you don’t need me. Is it really that hard to believe that I’m trying to change? I’ve been stuck in the same place for years now. Maybe, oh I don’t know, I want things to be different. I’ve never lied to you, I’ve only ever stayed silent. I want to spend time with you, no matter my motivations. Now, do you want to analyze the battle trials or not?”

...

Okay, that was a lot more than he intended to say, but Kacchan’s shocked expression kind of makes it worth it. He looks more than surprised now, like Izuku just admitted something drastic. Izuku, who is now standing with his hand firmly pressed on Kacchan’s door, trying his best to not look angry. 

He feels a little angry, but that’s not the point right now. 

It takes a minute, but the pressure on the door lets up and Izuku lowers his hand, watching as Kacchan thinks for a second before sighing and opening the door. 

“Okay, but we’re doing it in here.” Sweet! He succeeded! Now he can try his best not to freak out while subtly complimenting Kacchan’s strategy! 

This is going to be stressful. 

It actually ends up being... not too bad. Kacchan is halfway decent at analysis, having been attempting to keep up with Izuku for quite a while now. He’s not quite as good, but he’s close. They learned different things though, focused on different areas. Kacchan studied how to analyze fighting styles and himself, while Izuku focused on quirk analysis and learning how to analyze opponents while fighting. 

The only reason he’s slightly better than Kacchan is because he had firsthand experience every week, five days a week, hours at a time, for almost three years. That pushed him ahead a decent amount, and that’s not counting how he would go out and watch villain fights almost every day as a child.

That doesn’t really matter though, because they’re not focused on the quality of the analysis right now. Currently, all they’re focused on is getting a base structure down for future use. Izuku has his class notebook open, working from the back forwards as he makes comprehensive charts and guides for the individual analysis in the front of the notebook. 

He’s allocated ten pages per student, minus himself, which gives him about forty pages of guidance material. That should be plenty for his needs, and should give him a well rounded notebook, which is nice because he kind of likes this notebook. It’s not as sturdy as the one he got for his support classes, but it’s still strong and has an interesting design on the inside of the cover. 

But back to Kacchan. 

He can’t know for sure what his brother is doing, but they’re both writing away in their own notebooks, occasionally comparing analyses and adjusting accordingly. They carefully avoid talking about what happened with Todoroki and Izuku somehow manages to compliment Kacchan’s strategy without getting his head bitten off. 

Actually, all he gets is a raised eyebrow, which he sees as a win. They also manage to get so lost in their work that they’re still working when the front door opens and footsteps enter the house. Which means it’s six o’clock, and they need to do their homework before dinner starts. 

Izuku is at his desk pulling things out of his backpack in a matter of seconds, only stopping to wave at Mitsuki who stares at him like he’s an alien as he continues walking towards his room. He spends a good thirty minutes going through everything, and another ten double checking it all, before sighing and closing his books and shoving them back in his backpack for the last time that day. 

Just in time to hear Mitsuki knock on Kacchan’s door and tell him it’s time for dinner. Izuku smiles a small smile, quietly proud of himself for completing all that homework in such little time. It was quite a lot of homework, after counting the daily study session Nezu assigned him for their private class. 

He’s so caught up in that thought, he almost misses the gentle knock on his door. It’s soft, hesitant, and followed up by an equally hesitant voice telling him that the food is ready. It’s a little unexpected, considering the fact that no one’s done that in a good two years now. Maybe longer. 

He quickly steps out of his chair and opens the door just in time to catch her before she walks away, relaxing and trying his best to smile a small smile, pushing down the fear as he forces his mouth to open. 

“Thanks. I’ll be down in five.” He quickly closes the door after that, just barely seeing the look of shock on her face before it clicks shut and he’s left taking a deep breath and forcing his hands to still. 

Wow, he’s... really bad at that. He’s been forcing himself to stay neutral for so long, he thought showing emotion would almost entirely consist of relaxing and not forcing himself to stay neutral. He didn’t know it would involve forcing himself to do the opposite, and he also didn’t know he would be left feeling like someone just drained four of his five batteries in a matter of seconds. 

Despite that, it was somewhat nice, if not a little sad. It’s been so long since everything happened, even though the images are still stuck in his mind. He never really thought about his new family all that much, the idea of completely switching over far too painful to even consider.

But they’ve been taking care of him for five years now... Has he really not smiled at them that entire time? Has he really been so distant as to ignore them every day, no matter what they did? He still sees images of his mother in the fire, still sees her smile before the floor gave out beneath them. 

She would be so disappointed in him, wouldn’t she?

Izuku shakes his head, pushing down the feelings once more, forcing himself to move on. He changes out of his school clothes, putting on a comfortable shirt that doesn’t press against his wings, before making his way downstairs. The outdoors are a little cold for his tastes, but he finds one hundred degrees delightful so that’s not saying much for regular people.

Masaru just smiles at him when he steps outside before continuing his job as designated griller. Izuku nods and moves to sit opposite Kacchan on their porch table, red eyes glancing at him before looking away. Mitsuki still looks a little off kilter, but she still smiles at him and hands him a plate. 

He glances at the backyard, wondering how long it’s been since he’s been back here. He looks at the tree that was far smaller the last time he saw it, and the picket fence that’s a different color than it used to be. 

He looks and wonders. 

How much has changed as he’s floated through life? How different are the people he loves?

And can he mend the gap he created?

Chapter Text

Tuesday, day seven of classes, and a completely uneventful day as far as activities go. Seriously, nothing is happening. He has an extracurricular, but it’s art, so not all that exciting.

The most eventful part of his day will be learning what their hero course will be attempting to turn into a lesson, and then watching his class attempt to learn it. So, there’s something, but it’s so little it may as well be nothing.

Even his body seems to accept that this is going to be a remarkably normal day, because he doesn’t have a nightmare the night before, waking up with sleepy eyes as he stretches out with a yawn. There’s no cramp in his wing, no ache in his head, no tightness in his shoulders. He feels well rested and healthy, which isn’t what he expected.

Last night was... interesting. All those realizations all at one, each one hitting him in the chest like a ton of bricks. He’s still trying to come to terms with everything, but he doesn’t feel all that distraught about it. If anything, he feels like it’s not a big deal. He made some mistakes, he’ll work on fixing them, and that’s that.

It will take a while, it won’t be easy, but it should be fine. He should be fine.

He walks into school right behind Kacchan, says hi to Ochaco, and sits in his chair without issue. He glances at Todoroki, who is staring out the window with a strange expression, before focusing on unpacking his school supplies. Aizawa tells them that there’s a field trip tomorrow, and that’s that. 

For the next four hours, Izuku writes notes and answers questions and glances at Todoroki who still has that strange expression on his face. Then lunch comes around and he decides to stay with Ochaco because she’s his friend and she deserves to have his attention sometimes, even if he doesn’t like being around other people.

See, he’s fixing the problem. 

It isn't all that surprising when Iida joins them, seeing as Ochaco has already told him that she’s been eating lunch with the boy. Said boy is starting to grow on him, if he’s being honest. He isn’t actually all that bad and seems to just not be very good at social interaction if Izuku’s being honest. Maybe that’s all his slip up was, a slip up.

Izuku still doesn’t feel particularly comfortable around him, but he also doesn’t feel like being openly hostile. Not that he’s usually openly hostile. No, he’s usually internally hostile, which means Ochaco can tell and no one else. For some reason.

It’s not just Ochaco and Iida though, because Tsu and Yayorozu migrated to their table at some point that Izuku can’t remember and are now smiling and chatting around him like a group of friends. He isn’t entirely sure what to do, surrounded by talkative people as he glances at Ochaco with what must be alarm because she just looks on at him in pity and even pats his hand once.

And if he’s constantly looking between Kacchan and Todoroki, well, only Ochaco notices. Kacchan is sitting with the redhead, Kirishima if he’s remembering correctly, Kaminari, and... Mina? Yea, Mina. It’s an interesting combination, but Kacchan looks, not content, but not angry. Maybe they can be friends. That would be good for him.

Todoroki, on the other hand, is sitting alone, glaring at anyone who dares to walk towards his table. It would be funny if Izuku wasn’t so concerned. The more he looks at the boy, the more he can’t help but want to find out what made him this way. It's obvious that his rant didn’t help, but there’s something beneath the surface that Izuku is itching to decipher.

He can’t figure it out right now though, so he eats his food and answers any questions asked of him and just tries to relax. It’s a little hard, but he’s pretty sure he manages to keep a straight face. No one stares at him and they don’t ask him any questions. Ochaco does try to include him in their conversation, but he only speaks in short sentences and doesn’t contribute in any way whatsoever, so she eventually gives up.

Hey, he said he was fixing the problem, not that it was already fixed.

Either way, lunch ends without any fanfare and he walks into Power Loaders lab and sits down at Hatsume’s desk and learns a bunch of new stuff about engineering that he never thought he'd learn. It’s interesting stuff, and his notebook is steadily filling with sketches and sentences and hundreds of sticky notes. It’s a lot of information, but he’s enjoying himself, each new thing a pleasant addition to his growing collection of specified knowledge. 

Then the bell rings and class 1-H is spilling into the lab and Izuku is working with Hatsume on her sports festival project. It’s complex, and he can’t help but be proud of himself when he catches something Hatsume missed. She smiles and ruffles his hair and calls him freckles and he almost wants to smile back. 

It’s a strange feeling, one he still not used to. He’s been wanting to smile an awful lot lately, and he isn’t entirely sure if he’s ready for that. It was hard enough smiling at Aunty the night before, and these are people he doesn’t know even half as well as her. He hasn’t even known them for a month, not even two weeks. 

It’s too new, so he just keeps things the same as usual, relaxed but blank. It’s easier that way, and he’ll need to work on it eventually, but right now he’s fine to just work on things one at a time. Slow and steady wins the race and all that. 

His class with Hatsume ends sooner than he would like and he ends up needing to drag himself away from the table. He wants to keep on working, keep creating. It’s not something he’s used to doing, and it makes something in his chest release as he works with tiny wires and complex machines. 

He’s been destroying things for so long, breaking things over and over, he forgot what it felt like to create. 

That’s not important though, so he pushes down the urge to stay and walks to the fitting rooms behind his class and slips into a cubical and stares in the mirror for the first time in a long time. 

His skin is a mess of scars, both dark and pale, thin slashes and knotted lumps, but not a single burn. Fire will never burn him. Nothing hot has ever left him injured. Not water, not fire, not searing blades. So no, no burn scars, but plenty of others to make up for that. 

He’s never really stopped to look at himself, never really cared to see the body he’s been abusing for years. He has muscles, but they’re lean, nothing that would draw eyes towards him. His scars are ugly, but he doesn’t really care. It’s not like they’re on display, seeing as he’s almost always wearing compression sleeves or a long sleeve T. 

And makeup does wonders for hiding the scars on his neck and face. 

He ends up spending a few extra minutes in his cubical, walking out in his uniform a good twelve minutes later. Kacchan is waiting for him again, glancing at the stall before grunting and leaving the room. He follows, glad that they have this pattern no matter how small of an interaction it is. 

Heroics is simple. It’s their first time doing regular sparring in class, which is somewhat interesting, but still uneventful. He’s put against Sero, who seems a little nervous, but does well considering. Izuku keeps giving him tips, which wasn’t what he planned on doing, but All Might is a horrible teacher so he might as well help with at least one student. 

When that’s finally done, he walks to the changing rooms again and takes off his uniform and pointedly avoids looking at the mirror, packing everything up and walking out without a second glance. He kind of wants to bring Kacchan with him to his extracurricular, but that would probably be taking things a little too far, so he just nods goodbye and walks to the class all on his own. 

Midnight Sensei is fun, and insists he call her Nemuri, which is kind of strange, but still rather mundane. She’s really excited to teach him more about art, and says that she never gets to talk to anyone about this stuff anymore and that she’s seen some of his art and that he’s really good and on and on and on and it’s kind of overwhelming but that’s fine. 

They end up just drawing together, a basic landscape piece that takes a little under an hour to finish. He could spend longer on it, but that’s all the time they have today, and he isn’t sure if he’s going to bother keeping this class. He likes her, but he already knows how to draw. 

Maybe he can ask to spar with her sometime. Maybe that would be nice. 

He flies home, goggles on his face, mask covering his mouth, secure in the knowledge that Nezu told him he can fly wherever he wants. It feels good, just like always. He feels free, like he doesn’t need to think up here. He can fly as fast as he wants now that he has his gear, wings beating strong and hard as he rockets through the sky. He gets home in ten minutes, almost twice as fast as when he flies slow. 

So he drops his bag on his balcony and goes back up into the air, following all his old routes, checking the places he used to stay. It’s still daytime, so none of the people he knows are out and about, but he leaves some notes where they used to meet just in case they’re looking for him. 

He did this a month ago as well, telling them all he was okay as soon as he was able. He’ll miss his friends, but that’s not his life anymore. Maybe one day he can find them again, learn what they’ve done while he was locked in a cage, forced to stay away. 

It’s fine. He’s getting better. For the first time in four years, he actually wants to change. It may take time, may take energy he doesn’t really have, but he’ll try. 

He’ll try. 

Dinner is nice. He sits with his family and listens to them talk. He eats the food and thanks the cook and does everything he’s supposed to do. He goes to bed with a full stomach, mind buzzing as he tries to calm down. He can still hear the wind rushing past his ears, still smell the fresh air through his nonexistent mask. 

It takes a while to fall asleep, but he does. He falls asleep and wakes up with a sharp inhale, head hurting, wings aching, chest burning. 

That’s his first sign that something’s off. 

It takes him far too long to drag himself out of bed, each movement making the headache worse until he gives in and pops some pills and hopes it works. It does, but only partially, only enough to make him feel somewhat human. The ache in his wings doesn’t leave though, feathers dragging on the floor as he lets them droop behind him.

He walks to the bathroom like that, trying not to groan every time his wings bump into the walls or furniture. It hurts like a bitch, and his chest is still burning, something pushing down on his lungs with an annoying pressure. It’s happened before, and he doesn’t like it at all. It must be heartburn or something, because that’s what google says, but meds don’t help so he’s left with an ache in his chest and frustration in his mind.

Eating breakfast is hard, but he forces the food down his throat, struggling to keep a straight face as Kacchan looks at him with a strange expression. He can’t stand the thought of being shoved into a car with the way his wings are hurting, so he tells Mitsuki that he’s taking the bus. 

They both know it’s a lie, so he doesn’t bother waiting until he’s out of sight before taking off into the air. The ache lessens as he flies, which is strange but not unusual. He always flies when his wings hurt like this, a specific ache that only lessens with certain actions. 

Unfortunately, the pain is still there when he lands in the second floor hallway through an open window. He doesn’t groan, because there are people around to witness his show of weakness. Instead, he clenches his jaw and walks into class without a single glance at his classmates. 

It’s just Iida and Yayorozu this time, which makes sense. He’s here far earlier than usual, having flown as fast as possible to try and get rid of the ache in his bones. It didn’t work, so now he’s sitting on his stool staring at a notebook with a tense jaw as he tries really hard not to glare. There are people here, and more people coming. That is not the impression he wants to give off. 

Todoroki comes before everyone else, then Kacchan, then Ojiro for some reason. When she arrives, Ochaco takes one glance at him and pats his shoulder apologetically. He looks up at her with tired eyes, and she looks at him with a soft frown before ruffling his hair and handing him a lollipop. 

He takes it without a relieved nod, popping it into his mouth in hopes that it will keep him from expressing his emotions. This is hard enough without distractions, so maybe a sweet treat will help. 

He can tell that some people are looking, but he doesn’t particularly care right now, too focused on ignoring the way his wings are practically laying on the floor. It’s pitiful, the fact that he can’t keep them up for longer than a few minutes before they start shaking. It’s better to let them droop to the ground, and it will make not grimacing a much easier task. 

He’s not sure when everyone arrives, but he knows when class starts because all his senses are fucking screaming at him and the sound of Aizawa entering the room hits him in the head just like every other entrance did. He stares at their teacher, still sucking on the lollipop and just barely keeping his shoulders from shaking. 

Aizawa glances at him for a second, as he does every morning, but unlike every morning, he continues to look in his direction every few minutes all throughout homeroom. Izuku tries really hard not to bare his teeth at his teacher, fully aware that doing anything like that would be a very bad idea. 

Do not growl at your teachers, that’s human 1-0-1. He  can growl internally all he wants, but not out loud.

He’s barely able to listen to the information he’s being given, each word slipping past his ears as he tries so very hard to ignore the pain and keep himself neutral and not growl and ignore the feeling of the dirty floor against his wings and listen to the teacher and do a million things he really doesn’t have the energy to do. 

He gets some information. Something about a field trip and that they should all behave and that Aizawa will be there to watch. That’s about all he can manage to catch, brain oozing out of his ears as he continues to try and just be a human for heaven’s sake, it shouldn’t be this hard. 

Aizawa glances at him one more time before leaving, a strange expression on his face that Izuku adds to the growing list of expressions he can’t figure out how to decipher. He has about, what, thirty by now? Maybe more. Whatever, not important, moving on. 

It’s his first day in a school setting while feeling this shitty, and it really sucks. He can fight while in pain, and he can do so easily. If anything, it helps, sharpens his senses, forces him to push past his limits. This isn’t a fight though, this is sitting in one place feeling everything all at once like, god, is skin always this annoying? Maybe he should just peel it off for the day and call it quits. 

But nope, he’s not allowed to do that. Not in the slightest. He has to sit here and somehow manage to write down whatever he catches as the day moves on. Whatever, he’ll ask to borrow Kacchan’s notes when he no longer has the urge to rip his own teeth out of his skull. 

Each time the bell rings, his head screams at him, making its annoyance known as he chews on the stick leftover from the lollipop. It’s starting to turn to mush in his mouth and he almost wants to ask Ochaco if she has another, but forces himself to just stare forwards instead. 

Of course Ochaco notices and, seeing as she’s an angel sent from heaven, manages to discreetly grab his attention and hand him a second lollipop with a sad smile. He takes it, his shoulders slumping ever so slightly as he just barely keeps himself from lighting the first stick on fire. Instead, he puts it in his pocket and vows to put it in the trash next time he remembers it’s in there. 

The lunch bell is the worst because everyone stands simultaneously, a nasty screech filling the air from all the chairs dragging across the floor. He almost lights his desk on fire this time, taking in a shaky breath as everyone filters out of the room. He can still feel eyes on his back, but he still doesn’t give a single flying fuck so fuck off and go eat please and thank you. 

When the room is silent, Izuku sighs and slumps into his chair, head dropping onto the desk with a thump as he tries not to cry. He hates days like this, and he knows for a fact they only surface when something shitty is about to happen. He really doesn’t want to deal with whatever issue is bound to come up. He really really doesn’t want to deal with it. 

He doesn’t know when, and he doesn't know how, but it’s gonna happen and he’ll have to deal with it because he can only die so many times in a day before he’s unable to move. He would like this to be over, but he can’t know for sure how bad it will be, so he doesn’t dare deviate from his schedule. It’s always worse when he tries to compensate, so it’s better to just ignore it until it’s right in front of him. 

Time seems somewhat vague at the moment, so he isn’t sure when, but somewhere within the bounds of lunch Ochaco walks back into the room with two lunch pans and a smile. He doesn’t smile back because he’s pretty sure he’ll cry if he does, but he does nod and let his shoulders relax as he takes in the smell of hot soup. 

Oh, that’s lovely. Hot soup is exactly what he needs right now. Something to warm him from the inside out.

As soon as she’s focused on her own meal, Izuku places both of his hands on the bowl and steadily heats them up until the soup is hot enough to burn. Well, burn anyone else. Not him. He’ll be fine. Actually, he’ll be more than fine. He fucking loves boiling soup. It’s the best. 

The first sip sends shivers down his spine, his body loosening up a decent amount as he holds back a happy groan. He eats it slowly, savoring each bite until he’s drinking from the bowl and letting out a relieved sigh. The burning in his chest has decreased and there’s a pleasant buzz in his spine. 

His wings still hurt, but he really does feel much better. His mouth is pleasantly warm and his teeth are no longer itching. It was exactly what he needed, and he would worship the ground Ochaco walks on if it meant keeping her as a friend. Thankfully, he doesn’t need to, because she’s a genuinely good person who wouldn’t abandon him just because he doesn’t worship her. 

Once again, he isn’t sure when, but Ochaco is watching the clock and grabs their trays with a smile sometime before lunch ends and takes them back to where they belong. He watches her go and lets himself fall forwards once more, wings still laying on the floor as he sighs and smiles a little and ignores the bad feelings for just a little longer. 

Then the lunch bell rings and his head goes right back to screaming in protest as he lets himself grimace for a second before reluctantly grabbing his bag and leaving the room. He somehow manages to lift his wings high enough for them to not drag against the floor, but it sure is hard. 

Power Loaders lab is blissfully silent, not a single student in sight as Izuku ignores the annoyance of his chair having a back. He’s forced to pull his wings forwards, which is far more uncomfortable than usual, and ends up angry for a whole different reason despite the wonderful silence. 

The second Power Loader steps into the room, he takes one glance at Izuku and stops in his tracks. They stare at eachother for a second until his teacher turns around and steps outside without a single word. It’s weird, and damn is he really doing that bad of a job at hiding his discomfort?

It’s fine though because his teacher is back in just a few minutes carrying a stool, which is really very kind of him and Izuku kind of wants to cry and dear heavens he’s far too emotional today. He switches out his chair for the stool and lets himself sigh in relief, wings drooping once more as he prepares himself for his favorite class. 

Somehow, he manages to take in all the information he’s given. Maybe because of the silence, or maybe because of that heavenly soup, but he doesn’t really care why because it’s a huge relief because he really was worried that he would waste a whole day on this stupid ache in his bones. 

The class ends with no fanfare, just a tiny device he finally knows how to fix and a ringing in his ears from the bell. He doesn’t have high hopes for open lab because it’s usually incredibly noisy, but he grits his teeth and forces himself to stay, regardless.

Everyone floods in all at once, going to their designated spots without delay. Hatsume takes one look at him and ruffles his hair, which is interesting, but he doesn’t really care. They work on one of her secondary support devices for the festival, some sort of fancy net that’s actually kind of cool. Granted, everything she makes is kind of cool so that’s not saying much. 

Despite the interesting task, it take less than ten minutes for all the pain to come back, the constant scraping of tools and screeching of metal against metal digging into his skull without pause. It feels horrible, and he ends up walking up to Power Loader ten minutes before class ends in a request to cut it short. 

Thankfully, his request is granted, so he says goodbye to Hatsume and walks to the lunchroom and sighs in relief when he sees Lunch Rush and asks them if there’s anymore soup. He once again thanks the heavens when she gives him a small bowl without question, leaving him curled up in a corner booth with his scorching hot soup and not a single person to bother him. 

Once again, he sips at the boiling water, letting himself relax in an attempt to prepare for this stupid field trip. It sound horrible, and he really hopes it doesn’t last any longer than a normal class. Maybe they’ll let him leave early if he proves how much of a disaster he is. Mess up some lessons, trip over his own feet or something. 

No, that’s not a good idea. He needs to stick to the schedule, it’s always worse when he doesn’t stick to the schedule. 

He lets himself groan, head flopping back and hitting the wall with a thump. His wings are curled up around him and he’s heating them up ever so slightly to try and chase away the ache in his bones. It kind of works, but it also makes him sleepy, which isn’t what he wants so he reduces the heat and grimaces when the pain comes right back. 

Fifteen minutes later, he’s walking down the stairs to the front of the building where he was told to meet the rest of his class. They’re all already here, standing in a group while Yayorozu tries to keep them loosely organized. Izuku slips in behind everyone, forcing his wings to stay up because like hell is he putting them in the dirt. 

The bus arrives a good ten minutes after he does, which isn’t a great sign. He has plans to train with Shinsou after this, so having a class run late would really suck. Maybe he can fly back when they’re done so it takes less time. That might work. 

“Okay, everyone on the bus.” Aizawa sounds extremely tired, but Izuku can’t bring himself to care. Aizawa always sounds tired after all, so this is nothing new. What is new is the way he walks up to Izuku with a serious expression like he’s about to drop some major new on his shoulders and damn that would suck does this really need to happen today of all days dear heavens. 

“Midoriya, I need to talk to you for a second.” Some students glance their way, but they look away before he can glare at them. Good, he’s having a hard enough time stopping himself as is.

“Yes, Sensei.” They step to the side together, out of earshot, as Izuku tries very hard not to glare at his teacher. 

“Are you sure you’re up for this class?”

...Oh. Not what he expected. 

“The setting is a bit dangerous compared to a regular class and it’ll probably be very stimulating, possibly overstimulating. No one will judge you if you ask to sit out.” Damn, he’s doing a terrible job of hiding this. It was a lot easier when he was decked out in gear meant to conceal his identity. 

He goes to answer, to turn down the offer, but ends up pausing, thinking about it, wondering if he could do that. If he could take a break. Stop moving, just for a little while. 

But, no, he’s already taken breaks today. No matter how short, he’s interrupted his routine enough already. He needs to keep going, push forwards. Lagging behind isn’t a choice on days like this, it's not an option he can take. He’s done that one too many times and faced the consequences every single time. 

“I’m okay Sensei, but thank you.” Aizawa looks unsure, but doesn’t push, nodding before moving towards the bus himself. Izuku takes a second to breathe before following, forcing himself to ignore the way his body is screaming at him. 

The bus is small, and he’s forced to sit in a chair despite the urge to stand. There are no handholds that would keep him from falling, which means he needs to curl his wings around him and try very hard not to grimace at the strain that puts on his joints. 

Thankfully, the ride is short, less than ten minutes before he’s bolting for the door the second they stop. He’s the first one out, stretching his wings and closing his eyes for all of five seconds before footsteps follow after him. He steps away from the bus, staring at the giant building they’ve arrived at. 

It’s a massive dome, with an equally massive door that’s just barely open. Is someone already here? Maybe All Might. This is supposed to be a heroics class after all. 

“You ready Midobro?!” Midobro? That’s... an interesting nickname. He turns to look at Kirishima and immediately feels bad because the boy looks extremely nervous. Man, what has he done to earn that kind of reaction. 

So, he pushes down a snarky response and nods, watching as Kirishima beams and throws one of his thumbs up. 

“Sweet! Let’s do this!” Izuku continues to watch as the boy rushes over to where Mina and Kaminari are standing before the whole group follows after Bakugou like a bunch of lost ducklings. It’s kind of funny, but he’s just glad he managed to get through an interaction without disturbing the other party too much. 

He does sigh though, closing his eyes for another few seconds before following after the group and their teacher. The second they all step inside the building, Izuku suddenly understands what Aizawa meant by it being a little more dangerous. 

Natural disasters. 

And a teacher Izuku hasn’t met yet. 

He doesn’t really feel like smiling, but it is nice to hear Uraraka be so excited. It makes sense. She’s always loved the idea of being a rescue hero. Thirteen is an admirable role model. 

“Welcome to the Unforeseen Simulation Joint!! USJ!” Izuku feels a sliver of amusement slip through his mind when he hears someone mumble about the similarities to the theme park. It is kind of funny, but he’s too tired to actually care. 

Instead, he half focuses on the teachers as they talk to each other, holding up some fingers like some sort of code. Speaking of teachers, where’s All Might?

Izuku glances at the door again and then back at their teachers, wondering where the loud buffoon is. He may not be an amazing teacher, but he’d be helpful if someone was about to get hurt out here. Is he skipping? He’s only done that once and it was under strange circumstances. 

Whatever, none of his business. Hopefully no one dies, which is unlikely because they have one of Japan’s best rescue heroes right here. 

Once they’re done whispering among each other, Thirteen starts her speech, and Izuku immediately tenses. 

Not because of her speech, no, but because his body has decided that whatever is happening today is happening now. 

The pain is gone, leaving behind an itch at the back of his neck as he frantically searches the building. He can’t find a damn thing, not a single piece out of place, but he doesn’t even know what to fucking look for because he’s never been here before. 

Damnit! How the hell does he warn everyone?! He’s never had this happen where it affected a whole group. It’s only been with people attempting to kill him while he’s not in the ring or something just as detrimental to his health and his health alone! 

Okay, stay calm. He needs to think about this rationally. They’re in the middle of UA High. There shouldn’t be anything major, nothing that could get past their security. 

Except his body doesn’t care about logic and is telling him that whatever is coming is really bad and that he should probably run and yeah maybe he’ll try to tell Aizawa okay.

He turns forwards, looking directly at his teacher and blinking when he realizes that said teacher has been staring at him this whole time. He looks suspicious, eyes scanning him from head to toe like he’s done something wrong. Did he do something wrong? Shit, Thirteen is finishing her speech, he needs to warn them now-

Every bone in his body freezes at the sound of electricity crackling around them, dread filling his stomach as his eyes instinctually lock on to the central plaza. 

He watches as the class looks at the sputtering fountain in confusion, as Eraserhead drops into a stance, as he realizes that this was far more than a little issue that would kill him and call it quits. 

He watches as villains spill into the building, as the itch at the back of his neck grows until he wants to tear at the tiny feathers sitting there. 

Well, fuck.

Maybe he should have changed his schedule.

Chapter Text

Villains.

Izuku has met his fair share of villains, has fought and won and died against villains. He’s bled and choked and cried in pain against villains. Izuku has met his fair share of villains. 

But this class shouldn’t have to share that burden. 

It doesn’t matter that he’s the same age, that they’ll all face villains eventually. It doesn’t matter that he hates heroes, that they’re training for this very interaction. It doesn’t matter, because it’s too soon. They haven’t been properly trained, haven’t had the experience needed to handle this. It’s too soon. 

At first, he can’t move, eyes locked on to the slowly filling plaza as he tries to keep himself from doing something stupid. Like flying down to the plaza and beating up as many people as he can before inevitably dying. Yeah, that would be stupid. That would be more than stupid, literally the worst thing he could do in this scenario. 

No, he needs to take a deep breath and try his best to stay with his class. He may not know much about major villain confrontations, but he can fight better than most of his peers, so he can help. Even if he can only help a little, he can still do that small bit, can still contribute.

So, he drags his eyes away from the plaza and looks towards Eraserhead because he will do something stupid if he doesn’t keep himself contained. There’s something burning in his chest, threatening to spill out, threatening to push him down those stairs. He’s not doing that, though. He’s waiting for outside input. 

He’s waiting for the professionals. 

“What’s that? Is this like the entrance exam where the lesson’s already started?” Izuku blinks, turning to look at Kirishima who’s staring down at the plaza in confusion. Kirishima, who goes to take a step forwards with that very same confusion, like he truly has no idea what’s pouring into the building like a tsunami.

“Don’t move!” Everyone freezes, and Izuku looks back towards Eraserhead who is putting on his safety goggles with an expression that tells Izuku everything he needs to know. “Those are villains.”

Their teacher doesn’t have the power to stop these villains. Not on his own.

It makes some of the anger wane, replaced by a sliver of fear because, god he should have done something. He should have warned someone, pulled Eraserhead to the side, told him that something was coming. He should have done something, anything. 

It’s too late now. He needs to focus on doing what he can, no matter how little that is. 

He shakes his head, turning around to look at the exit. The class needs to leave, to get out of here before that warp quirk can stop them. Every second that passes reduces their chance of escape, but he can’t just force everyone to move. The villains are speaking, and he tries his best to ignore them, to focus. 

On what, though? What can he do? He’s no hero, no trained professional. He can make decent plans, but he’s only ever made plans for himself, not for a whole group. 

He hears Aizawa say something about the break in, and something about that pulls at a memory in his brain that he pushes down without pause. He needs to focus, needs to figure out a solution. 

Todoroki makes a decent analysis of the situation that Izuku only half listens to, mind buzzing with question after question and plan after plan. It’s easy with just him, only so many variables, but a whole class? How is he supposed to narrow it down? How is he supposed to choose a single one?

“Thirteen, start the evacuation. Try calling the school. These villains even had something to counteract the sensors. It’s possible someone with radio-wave-type powers is interfering. Kaminari. You try contacting the school with your Quirk, too.” Izuku jerks, looking at Eraserhead with wide eyes. 

Some part of him knew that their teacher was going to fight, but being faced with that reality hits him hard. 

“Sensei, you can’t possibly be thinking of going down there by yourself. Your quirk, your fighting style-“ Aizawa doesn’t turn around, doesn’t look at him, capture scarf flaring around him.

“You can’t be a hero with just one trick. I’m leaving it to you, Thirteen.”

Izuku can tell that the class relaxes at that statement. Izuku can tell that they’re all putting their trust in their teacher, confident that he can succeed. But as Aizawa takes action, rushing down the stairs, Izuku sees the tension in his shoulders.

He’s putting up an admirable front, but that’s all it is. A front. He’s banking on them getting a message out. He’s willing to sacrifice his life for students he barely knows.

That pressure on Izuku's chest grows, a feeling not unlike bile bubbling up his throat. He swallows it down, tries to stay calm, to focus. All of this, it was preventable. His teacher might die, and Izuku could have stopped that from happening. 

God, he fucked up.

He forces himself to turn away from the fight below, looking back at the door that seems so far away. 

“Okay kids! Let’s get out of here.” Thirteen has them running seconds after Eraserhead jumps into the fray, the whole class following her lead. Izuku is in the middle of the group when he realizes that there’s a constant in each plan that’s run through his head, something doable. 

Something helpful. 

He runs forwards, slipping in next to Iida with tension in his jaw. 

“You need to get out of here with Kaminari.” The boy jerks, looking at him with wide eyes. 

“I can’t just leave you! What if you need-“

“You’ll be far more helpful getting backup. You're strong, but the heroes are stronger. Get Kaminari out, get him out of range of that stupid quirk. They’re going to try to block us in, find a weak point, keep Kaminari from falling in a portal, do everything you can.” Iida looks like he wants to hesitate, but Izuku doesn’t let him, grabbing Kaminari who yelps as he’s dragged to the side. 

“Get him out.“ Iida clenches his jaw, looking between them and the gate before nodding and grabbing a confused Kaminari by the arm. 

“Okay Kaminari, I’m getting you out of here so you can call the heroes.” The poor boy blinks, but doesn’t protest, climbing onto Iida’s back as he visibly tries not to panic. Izuku sees them get ready to move, sees Iida settle down into a familiar stance. 

But they’re too late. 

“We can’t have you doing that now can we.” The whole class freezes, staring up at the mist villain with wide, scared, eyes. Even Izuku feels a shiver run down his spine, body telling him to run even as he forces himself to stay.

“Nice to meet you. We are the League of Villains. It may be presumptuous of us, but we have invited ourselves into the home of the heroes, U.A. High School, in order to have All Might, the Symbol of Peace, take his last breath.” The second those words are spoken, Izuku can practically taste the sudden terrified disbelief that washes over his class. 

Kill All Might? That’s... that’s not good. That means they have something or someone who they believe can kill the number one hero. That means... that means Eraserhead is no match for whatever’s down there. Izuku doesn’t even know what’s down there, having peeled his eyes away while there were only rabble in the plaza. 

Not good. Very not good. 

“I believe All Might should have been here. Has there been some kind of change?” The villain looks to them, as though they have the answer, which is stupid because that’s not information students get to have. 

“Well, that is neither here nor there. This is the part I am to play.” Izuku tenses, but he doesn’t notice his classmates moving to attack before they’re already out of reach. He still tries to reach out, tries to grab Kacchan and Kirishima and drag them back, but his hands wrap around thin air as he tries so very hard not to let the fear in his chest spill out. 

Kacchan attacks, and a billow of smoke covers the villain in a convenient cloak. Izuku wants to shout at them, wants to tell them how stupid that was, but he can’t open his mouth. 

“Did you consider that you’d get beaten by us before you did it?” Are they idiots!? A small attack like that isn’t going to do jack shit against an experienced villain! 

“Oh dear, that’s dangerous.” Izuku can barely see his two classmates, but he can see them tense and stumble back a few steps before the smoke finally dissipates to reveal a very much not defeated villain. 

“That’s right. Even if you are students, you are excellent golden eggs.” There’s a dangerous edge to the villain’s voice, one that triggers something in Izuku’s head, his body jerking into a fighting stance, prepared to do what he can against this villain. 

But Thirteen must see something they don’t, because her voice suddenly spills from her suit, panic and fear tinging the words.

“No! Move away you two!”

“My job is to scatter you all, and torture you to death!!” That’s all the warning they get, the smoke flaring and wrapping them up in a black void. Izuku feels something pull at him, dragging him off the ground. He isn’t sure what to do, pulling at the black ink with no success. 

His body starts to sink into what must be a portal, and at the last second, he stops resisting, focusing on the fact that he’ll be able to help whoever he ends up with. 

When the black finally breaks, replaced by a bright light that stings his eyes for all of five seconds before he gets used to it, his first instinct is to fly back towards the entrance, but he stops himself before he can move, wings beating steadily as he hovers in the air right where he was placed. He saw Iida grab people and escape, saw him act when Izuku couldn’t. 

It will be okay. Iida will get out and Kaminari will contact the school and it will be okay. 

They just need to survive until then. 

Once more he drags his eyes away, this time from the swirling black dome that’s so far away even he can barely see it. He looks around himself instead, noting the location before jerking to the side when a portal begins to open just a few feet away. He dashes forwards, grabbing Yayorozu and Jiro out of the air before they can fall to the ground where a large group of villains are waiting for them.

Getting them down without dropping them is a little hard, especially with the way both their hands are slipping, but he manages, stumbling to the floor the second they land. He isn’t even able to stand up before both of them are against his back, ready to guard against attacks like they’ve done this before. 

He knows they haven’t, but part of him just wants to make sure. He ignores that part and stands up himself, taking a deep breath before settling down into a familiar stance. 

“Thank you Midoriya, that would have been a long way to fall.” Izuku doesn’t flinch, but it’s close, nodding in response before focusing on the villains. There’s at least a dozen, maybe more, all surrounding them with disgusting expressions that remind Izuku just how bad villains can be. 

Thankfully, from the way they look, Izuku can assume that they’re probably not all that strong. He lets himself relax, lets the anger bubble back up, lets it push out the fear he feels for his teachers and classmates. He needs to focus, needs to get rid of these guys without thinking about it too much. 

He needs to fight. 

It’s not hard to change gears, not hard to let everything but anger flow out of his body. It’s a familiar feeling, eyes scanning the villains for his first target. A few of them are looking at him with a strange expression, something bordering on familiarity, but Izuku doesn’t read too much into it. 

No, he watches until a villain makes one step forwards, and then he strikes. 

All it takes is one hit, a swift chop to their neck before he’s spinning around towards his next opponent. This one jumps back, eyes wide with surprise. 

They’re too slow. 

Izuku grabs them and drops to the floor, legs sweeping out to knock the villain off their feet before tossing them towards the stone cliff as hard as he possibly can. They slam into the stone with a bang, dropping to the floor without getting back up, but he doesn’t take the time to make sure they stay down permanently.

The next one tries to attack instead of run, sharp nails reaching for Izuku’s face, but they too are far too slow. Izuku has a set of those himself, dodging their attack and swiping out, talons slicing the skin on their face. The villain cries out, trying to jerk back but still. too. slow. 

Izuku grabs them by their shirt and slams them into the ground head first, ignoring the sickening crack of their skull and jumping back towards his classmates. They’re both looking at him with wide eyes, but he doesn’t care what they think of him. The villains are staring at him with anger in their own eyes, the three he took down staying down. 

He quickly counts the remaining villains, trying not to groan when he comes up with a nice eleven, which means there was more than twelve to start with. 

Whatever, he can handle that many at their skill level. 

This time, when he moves, it’s straight up, wings beating strong before tucking in as he goes into a dive. The villains jump out of his way, but he already knew that would happen, body twisting at the last second as he grabs two villains and slams them into the ground head first. 

Nine more. 

A sudden loud sound that makes his ears ring has him turning around, eyes taking in the way Jiro and Yayorozu are fighting off their own villains. They’re holding the line back, keeping them away, but they haven’t taken anyone out yet. 

He fixes that. 

The second Jiro’s speakers cut off, he jolts forwards, weaving through a line of three villains that are still recovering from the blast. All it takes is three quick chops, each one falling like dominoes as he stands in front of them with his wings spread wide. 

Six more. 

Two villains cry out from behind him, presumably trying to get close before they attack. It doesn’t matter though, he could hear them long before they got this close. 

He crouches down, watching as they attack thin air before swiping their legs out from beneath him with one swoop of his wings. They almost fall on him, but he grabs them by the scruff of their shirts and tosses them forwards, watching as they hit the ground with a heavy thud. 

Before he can finish the job, he just barely hears the sound of footsteps behind him before stretching out his wings and rapidly lifting himself into the sky. The villain curses and tries to throw something at him, but he grabs it before it can hit his shoulder, diving back down and spinning forwards in the air so his foot comes slamming into their head.

They crumple to the floor, but he’s not done yet, dropping the knife he grabbed before spinning around towards the two villains from before who are trying to get up, stumbling to their feet for a grand total of one second before falling back down and crying out when he kicks the back of their knees. 

Two more chops, hard enough to possibly cause brain damage, but he doesn’t really care. They’re out, defeated, too slow. 

Three more. 

When he turns around, the sight in front of him makes him pause. Yayorozu has a bow staff in hand, standing above two villains with a smile on her face and Jiro is standing a few feet away from her, standing next to the third villain with her own smile. Izuku looks around them, noting the lack of villains standing on two feet. 

Good, one more. 

...

Wait, one more?

No, there shouldn’t be any left. He counted them all, but he counts again just in case. Yes, they’ve all been defeated, why isn’t he calming down? He usually calms down some after finishing a fight, but something in his gut is telling him that the fight’s not over. 

One more...

He looks around again, trying to find the missing variable. There’s nothing here, or at least, it seems like nothing’s here, but there’s an itch under his skin that won’t go away and he already ignored his instincts once. He’s not going to do it again.

Someone’s hiding. 

Izuku straightens up and walks towards his classmates, expression serious as he lets the blood drip from his nails. 

“Yayorozu, Jiro.” The look up from where the villains they took out lay groaning on the floor, focusing in on Izuku. They quickly take in the way he doesn’t look all that triumphant, squaring their shoulders as if preparing for war.

He doesn’t correct them, motioning for them to get closer until they’re close enough for him to whisper his warning. 

“I think there’s another villain in the area.” Their eyes go wide, glancing around the area just like he did. He lets them look, keeping his shoulders loose as he tries his best to pinpoint where this feeling is coming from. 

“I have an idea, but it might take a second. You willing to try?” They both look back at him, expressions turning serious as they nod and lean forward. 

He lays it out, a plan he isn’t particularly proud of but should get the job done. He lays it out, and his classmates nod with a determined look in their eye. Then, he steps back, and starts the show. 

“I’m gonna go back to the entrance. I trust you two can get down on your own?” Yayorozu nods and glances at the path that would take them down to the plaza. 

“I think we’re good. Thank you Midoriya, you really saved us here.” He pauses for a second, blinking at her a few times before mentally shaking his head and stretching out his wings. 

“You would have been fine on your own, but you're welcome. I’ll see you on the other side.” And with that, he beats his wings and lifts off into the sky, moving towards the entrance until he’s low enough to be out of sight. The second he can no longer see his classmates behind him, he twists, flying around the side until he’s lifting up above the clearing and watching as they make their way towards the path. 

And then, he waits. 

They’re walking, not checking their surroundings, doing everything an untrained teenager would do. He can tell that Yayorozu wants to turn around, wants to make sure they’re safe, but she doesn’t fall into the urge. 

Just a few seconds. Any time now. Just a few more steps and- there! 

Seconds before they reach the path, a figure starts to rise from the floor, finally making themselves known. Izuku waits a few more seconds, just until they're fully out of the floor before diving. 

The villain doesn’t notice him until the last second, not even able to turn around and look Izuku in the face before two feet are slamming into their back, body crashing to the floor in less than a second. Yayorozu and Jiro spin around, looking at him with wide eyes. They look a little shaken up, but mostly relieved. 

Makes sense. Knowing a villain almost snuck up behind you is nerve wracking. Izuku would know. 

“There, that should be all of them.” Both his classmates let out a relieved sigh, drooping forwards ever so slightly before smiling up at him. 

“Thank you. Seriously.” Jiro does sound incredibly serious, like she’s not going to accept his attempts to brush off her gratitude. It makes him pause, mind trying to make room for something other than the focused anger still pushing him forwards. He was able to push it to the side long enough to make a plan, but it’s still there, trying to drag itself to the surface.

He nods, swallowing down a lump in his throat as he glances towards the entrance once more. The black dome is gone, but he can see that some of his classmates evaded being scattered, and that the warp villain hasn’t left. 

Maybe he can help there. 

“I’m going to make sure Iida was able to get out. You two will be okay, right? Just watch your back and try to get out without getting near the plaza. Stay as far away from it as possible, okay?” They both look at him, expressions determined despite the sliver of fear he can see behind their eyes. They’re doing remarkably well for two kids who’ve never been in real combat before. 

“We’ll be okay. Don’t worry about us. Go make sure everyone is okay.” He nods, taking the trust they’ve shown him and using it to fuel the fire in his veins. His wings stretch out behind him, legs bending ever so slightly as he turns towards the entrance.

“Wish me luck.” And with that, he bolts, wings rocketing him through the air as he focuses in on his target. He gets close fast, eyes taking in who’s there and who’s not. Iida and Kaminari are still there, along with six other people, one being their teacher. They’re all standing together, and Iida has Kaminari on his back, crouching down as if prepared to run. 

He’s close, really close, just a little more, just a few more seconds-

He’s close, really close, which means he’s able to pinpoint the second Thirteen messes up. 

Her quirk, sucking in the warp, trying to make an opening for Iida to run. But she didn’t account for one thing. 

Having her quirk used against her. 

He’s close, really close, just a little closer and he can stop the villain from winning. His wings beat harder, faster, until he’s tucking them in and diving seconds before a warp opens up right behind Thirteen. His hands reach out, wind pushing at his body until he just barely avoids slamming into the ground by spreading them out. 

He can feel eyes on his back, but it doesn’t matter, talons gripping Thirteen by the suit and throwing her to the side at the last second. 

That means he’s right where she stood when her quirk breaks through the warp, black hole pulling at his skin until it’s flaking off into the air. It lasts less than a second, but long enough to force him to his knees, pain shooting up his side as he looks down at the hole in his suit and the blood dripping down his skin. 

Shit, not good. 

“Midoriya!” Thirteen sounds panicked, but Izuku doesn’t care, looking behind him where Iida is staring at him with wide eyes and a look of terror that no teenager should ever carry. 

“Iida! RUN!” That seems to snap the boy out of it, eyes looking away even as Kaminari continues to stare at Izuku with those same scared eyes. It doesn’t matter though, because he’s not the one running. 

Iida bolts while the villain is still looking at Izuku in surprise. That surprise doesn’t stay long though, and in seconds, Izuku is struggling to his feet to try and stop the warp from reaching their one lifeline. 

He’s too slow. 

His feet stumble, pain shooting up his side as he tries so very hard to move. The villain is already there though, and Iida is running right into the mist and, and-

At the last second, right when he’s finally able to get to his feet, right when he’s about to be too little too late, the playing field shifts. Shoji, who escaped his focus until now, wraps himself around the portal that tried to swallow Iida whole. Somehow, it works, black ink snatched out of the air as Iida jerks to the side at the last second. 

“Hurry!!” Shoji’s shout reverberates around them, strong and panicked and scared. Izuku stumbles a few steps forwards, watching as the villain grows angry.

“You impertinent-“ At that moment, Izuku notices something, a metal ring, a solid point, a weakness. When he looks back up, the villain is moving, trying to catch up with Iida, stretching out as far as he can, as fast as he can. Izuku clenches his teeth and turns around, ignoring the pain that shoots up his side with that motion.

“Uraraka!” He looks towards her and is about to point at his realization, but his words are unnecessary. She’s already moving, sprinting forwards with determination on her face. She presses all ten fingers against the metal and throws, the villain pulled back seconds before reaching his target.

Izuku doesn’t have to do anything.

The villain looks at them with anger and tries to stretch out once more, but Sero is already moving, tape latching onto the anchor before he’s shouting out and tossing his tether towards a prepared Sato. 

At that moment, Izuku realizes that these kids are more than just wannabe heroes. He watches as they work together without training, as they move with no experience, and how they succeed in doing something they never should have had to do.

He watches as Kaminari helps Iida pry the door open, as the warp villain curses at them as he’s flung away from the group. He watches, and as he pauses, lets himself relax, just for a second.

He can’t help but smile. 

They’re going to be okay. 

“He’s going to call for support. It’s game over.” The villain sounds defeated.

They did it.

The second the warp user is gone, Izuku takes a deep breath, stumbling to the side until he’s sitting next to Thirteen. Everything’s going to be okay. All his classmates are quietly rejoicing around him, relaxing in relief as they take in their first ever victory. 

Their joy is well earned. It’s impressive, just how far they got without outside input. He lets himself relax as well, not fighting the small smile that drags itself onto his face before turning to look at Thirteen who is smiling herself. She’s injured, but not badly, nursing gashes on her arm and side that bleed sluggishly into the white of her suit. 

“Sensei, are you okay?” She looks up at him, eyes wide as she glances at his wound for a second. 

“I’ll be fine kid. You’re not looking good yourself, though.” Izuku blinks before looking down at his injuries, wondering if these are really considered bad in normal terms. It’s only skin deep, nothing dangerous, nothing that would kill him. It’s just... painful.

“I’m okay. I need to-“ Before he can finish his sentence, all his senses jerk towards the plaza, body going straight as he listens closely. Something’s wrong, something big, someone’s in danger.

“Midoriya? Are you-“ He cuts her off, holding up a finger as he focuses in on his hearing. Listen closer, hear better, focus more, what’s down there?

“Tsu. Run-“ 

...Aizawa.

Shit.

The pain disappears, shoved behind a familiar wall as he moves. He’s fast, and he knows he’s fast, wings lifting him high in the air until he’s at just the right angle to dive. The second he’s above the stairs, his eyes lock on to the last thing he wants to see.

A monster, holding down his teacher who's arm is twisted like the bones were nothing more than paper in the creature’s grasp. There’s blood seeping into the dirt without pause, a puddle slowly forming that drags the molten hot anger back, brimstone and lava filling his veins. He’s fast, talons sharpened, aimed towards its exposed brain.

“NOMU DODGE!” At the very last second, the monster disappears. Izuku just barely keeps himself from slamming into the floor, wings flaring out to soften his landing, but only enough to keep his joints intact. 

He lands in a crouch, covering Aizawa with his fangs and talons out for the world to see. Some part of him recognizes the low snarl that slips past his lips, but he doesn’t care, looking at the massive monster as if daring it to attack his teacher again. It stands there, on the other side of the plaza, staring at nothing as though it has no mind of its own. 

There’s still blood splattered on its skin, Aizawa’s blood, dripping from its hand. Aizawa who doesn’t respond even when gently nudged. Not good.

“Kaho?” Izuku freezes before jerking his head to the side, still baring his teeth as he takes in the villains. The warp quirk is standing in the back, also looking at nothing just like the damn monster, but it’s the villain next to him that drags Izuku’s sanity back to the surface.

Pale skin, blue hair, that disgusting appendage on his face. Izuku recognizes this villain, the fire in his veins slowly dissipating, but not going away.

“Shigaraki.” The villain tenses and takes a few steps back.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Shigaraki looks confused, and a little shocked, staring at him like he’s seen a ghost. 

Izuku doesn’t care. 

He glances at the monster again, then at the place where Tsu must have once stood and the wake she left behind. She’s gone, safe, good. 

When he’s sure no one is in immediate danger, he turns back towards Shigaraki, still guarding Eraserhead and prepared to do so until help has arrived. 

“What am I doing here? What the fuck are you doing here?! Killing children? You really stooped that low to reach your goals?” Shigaraki bristles, but Izuku still doesn’t care, taking a second to focus his senses to try and make sure Aizawa isn’t dying. 

“These aren’t just children. They’re herolings, and strong ones at that. Like hell could rabble like this kill these kids and you know that.” Aizawa’s pulse is low, but steady. He’s alive, but he needs medical attention as soon as possible. 

“So? You’re still traumatizing a group of children who have done no more than dream of helping others. Do you know how few students end up staying until their third year? On average, three. Three students. Most of these kids probably would have realized how fucked up everything is and left long before becoming heroes.”

That makes Shigaraki jerk, eyes going wide as he stares at Izuku in surprise. He still doesn’t care, he’s not trying to change this villains mind. 

No, he’s buying time. 

“That’s... not a bad excuse. Still, why are you here Kaho? Did you get brainwashed or something?” Izuku tries his best to stay calm, letting himself relax his stance ever so slightly while still guarding his teacher. 

“I’m in protective custody. Not my choice, but it’s better than jail time.” For a second, silence rings through the plaza as Izuku waits for a response, glancing towards the monster every few seconds just in case. 

Just when he’s about to say something again, Shigaraki snorts before throwing his head back and letting out a slightly terrifying shriek of laughter. It’s just like Izuku remembered, and not something he really wants to hear, but it’s better than being attacked. 

“HAHA! I can’t believe it!!! How the hell did they catch you?! Even I can’t catch you! Oh, that’s hilarious.” Izuku tries very hard not to get angry or frustrated or any negative emotion because that would be a bad idea, so he forces his jaw to relax and looks at Shigaraki with the same blank face he’s worn for years. 

“You poor thing. How hard is it to be surrounded by herolings every day? I bet you hate your life.” Okay, the distraction is working. All Might should be here any second with his speed. 

“It’s about as bad as you’d expect, but at least I get to fight.” Shigaraki hums and nods his head, taking a few steps to the side so he’s closer to the warp quirk.

“Such a pity that Kousei was taken down. I enjoyed watching your matches. You really are a good fighter, possibly better than me! Who knows, maybe we’ll see each other again.” There’s a dangerous edge to his voice that Izuku really doesn’t like, but there’s nothing he can do about it. All he can do is wait, and hope to high heavens that All Might gets here before Shigaraki snaps. 

“Unfortunately, thanks to your stupid little class, we need to leave. And it would be such a shame to leave without getting anything done, so I think-“ Izuku tenses, steadying his stance into something more defensive. He probably won’t be able to do much, but he might be able to do something. 

He let this happen, so it’s his job to at least try to fix his mistake. 

“I think I might as well squash the little gnat that is your teacher. Just to send a message, you know? Such a shame indeed. I liked Eraserhead! Such a cool hero, wouldn’t you agree?” Not good. God, will All Might just get here already?

“Too bad. You should have let me kill the kid.” Bloodlust drips from the villain’s words like acid, and Izuku can’t help but understand why people pray to gods that don’t exist. 

“Nomu.” Not good, not good, not good. No, no no- not this teacher. He can’t let this teacher die, he just can’t-

“ Kill Eraserhead.”

Chapter Text

“Nomu. Kill Eraserhead.”

The world seems to slow, Shigaraki’s words ringing through his head as he turns to look towards the monster. It’s already moving, locked on to the limp form of his teacher like some sort of mindless attack dog.

Izuku doesn’t know what to do. 

He’s fast, but not that fast, and carrying a full grown man would only make him slower. He moves anyways, crouching down to try and grab his teacher and lift him up, but the monster is already near. He can’t do it, he isn’t fast enough, its hand inches from its target.

He’s too slow, he’s too slow, he’s too slow-

BANG

The world stops, all eyes jerking towards the entrance where a billow of smoke rises from an open door. 

An open door, with someone standing in front of it.

Izuku almost sobs in relief, watching as All Might walks out of the smoke suit jacket in hand, looking down at the plaza with an expression on his face that Izuku’s never seen before. It’s okay, though. 

“It’s fine now.” Because the number one hero has arrived.

“I am here.” And he’s not smiling.

Izuku slumps forward, eyes moving down until he’s looking at his injured teacher, just to see his chest rise and fall. There’s blood pooling around his shoes that isn’t his own, and that alone sends shards of panic through his chest. 

“Ahh. We’ve been waiting for you, hero. You trash of society.” He can hear Shigaraki speak, can understand the words, but he can’t bring himself to care. The relief is still dragging at his lungs, body shaking ever so slightly as he closes his eyes. Just for a second, just to keep the tears from falling. 

When he opens them again, his mind momentarily wonders why the monster stopped, but he pushes it to the side, looking up at the entrance once more. In the background, he hears the remaining rabble try to get ready to fight, try to push back the fear they must feel at being faced with one so strong. 

But they don’t even get the chance. 

All Might is fast. So fast, Izuku can just barely track him, sharp eyes watching as the hero takes out the last few villains before going straight towards where Izuku is still standing, still guarding his teacher. 

In less than a second, they’re both on the other side of the plaza, lowered to the ground gentle and slow in stark contrast to the speed that got them there. 

“I’m sorry, Midoriya, Aizawa. I should have been here.” Izuku doesn’t speak, letting himself release a shaky breath as he kneels down and reaches for his teacher’s pulse.

“I’ll leave Aizawa to you, young man. Take him to the entrance, medical help should arrive soon.” His pulse is still weak, but steady. Okay good, he didn’t spontaneously die in the last three seconds of that interaction. Izuku looks up at All Might and then at the monster, pausing for a second before taking a deep breath. 

“That creature, it’s almost as fast as you. They did something to it, enhanced it. They’re convinced it’s stronger than you.” All Might stands up slowly, turning to look at the monster, scanning the battlefield. 

“All Might. Be careful.” The hero pauses, and Izuku can’t help but relax ever so slightly as he watches a familiar smile stretch across his face. 

“It will be okay young Midoriya! I will take your warning seriously.” Good, he didn’t brush it off like some heroes would. Izuku lets a small smile slip onto his face before reaching down to pick up his teacher. He freezes halfway, hissing in pain as the wound on his side flares up.

Right, he’s hurt. He forgot about that. 

All Might is still standing there, as if guarding him from any possible attacks. He’ll likely wait until Izuku’s moving before starting his assault, which is probably a good thing. 

Okay, it’s fine, he can deal with this. It’s nothing major, just painful. He sucks in a breath, reaching down the rest of the way and lifting until Aizawa is limp against his back, wings shifting to try and keep him from slipping off. It’s not easy, but he can do it, he can move. 

The second he’s sure he won’t fall, Izuku takes another deep breath and starts walking. He doesn’t move very fast, but he’s not slow either, keeping a steady pace while still making sure to sharpen his senses just in case something happens. If something does happen, he’s not sure what he’ll do, but he’s still not going to let himself miss out on anything that might be important. 

Not ten seconds after he starts walking, All Might makes his first move, yelling out the name of an American state in a battle cry only he could use. Izuku listens closely, noting down the impact and the way whatever he hit didn’t move an inch. He doesn’t dare look, but he knows what happened. 

The Monster absorbed the attack.

He barely keeps himself from shuddering, doing his best to ignore the realization that the Nomu was far out of his league. He would have been squashed in seconds, maybe less. 

Good thing they have a monster of their own. 

“My attack seriously has no effect at all, huh!?” Another punch, still no reaction. 

“In that case-“ Two more punches, not an inch. Izuku’s at the stairs, looking up at what he can see of the entrance. Tsu, already at the top, is pulling someone forwards. It takes a second and a few steps to see him, him being a concerned looking Shoji who locks eyes with Izuku at the exact same second as he flinches in pain when one of his feathers brush against the bloody skin on his side. 

“It doesn’t work on his face, either, huh?” Izuku feels the urge to turn around, but stops himself. It’s worse than he thought it would be, but All Might isn’t out of the running yet. Izuku can tell, he’s holding back.

He’s not sure why, but All Might is holding back. 

...

Okay, that might be a bad thing, but he’s not going to lose hope. He’s just not, not yet. 

Somewhere behind all the explosive punches and concerning non reactions, Izuku can hear Shigaraki say something, but the pain in his side and the sounds of the fight drown it out. His curiosity wants him to stop, to turn around, but he has something to do god damnit and he’s not leaving Aizawa laying partway up the stairs.

He keeps moving, dragging his attention away from the fight because if he keeps listening, he’ll do something stupid, and now’s not the time for that. Shoji is running down the stairs, probably to try and help him. He can decide whether or not to go back down when said help arrives, not before. 

“Thanks for telling me all that! If that’s true, then it’s easier for me!” A massive explosion shakes the earth, sending rocks spraying into the air. All Might didn’t hold back that time. Good. That knowledge has Izuku relaxing ever so slightly as he watches Shoji look at something behind him with a wide smile.

He relaxes, until he doesn’t. 

Seconds after the blast, Izuku freezes in place, all his senses focused in on one spot. 

The fight, something’s wrong. 

Shoji doesn’t seem to notice the same thing he does, continuing to run down the stairs until he’s standing next to Izuku with worried hands. 

“Midoriya? Are you okay? Let me take Aizawa Sensei, you need to-“ Izuku doesn’t listen, spinning around to stare at the massive pillar of smoke now that the weight is off his back.

Something’s wrong. What’s wrong? He can hear sounds of pain, and a disgusting squelch he only correlates with certain injuries. Something’s wrong.

All Might’s trapped. 

The second the smoke clears, Izuku can practically feel the fear come flooding back. It’s not what anyone expected, not even him, the number one hero caught in a trap. Has anyone done that before? Has All Might ever been put in a situation like this before?

“Midoriya, you’re injured. We need to run.” Shoji sounds scared, but Izuku can’t bring himself to leave. All his instincts are screaming at him, telling him to fight, to die, to save some time, to do anything he can. Anything. 

He tries to stretch out his wings, to fly, but pain shoots up his side the second those muscles tense, wings dropping to the floor without his permission. Shoji grabs his arm, as though trying to hold him back, but it doesn’t register behind the screaming in his skull.

“Midoriya! We need to-“ It takes barely any effort to break free from Shoji’s grip, but he still can’t fly, so he does the next best thing. He runs. His feet are working fine, beating against the cement ground as he pushes himself to get there, to do something. 

He runs, the waning fire coming back full force, pushing at his lungs as though flames wish to spill from his lips. They could, he knows they could, but is that all he can do? Would it even do anything? 

He runs, getting closer and closer far slower that he normal could, closer and closer to where All Might remains stuck in that trap, blood dripping from both his side and his lips. Izuku can barely think, eyes flickering over all the villains, over the way that warp quirk locks on to him.

Yes, that’s it! Someone needs to get that warp quirk out of the equation. Maybe with his fire, maybe he can do that, maybe he can stop this from happening. 

Each step, each time his feet hit the ground sends shards of pain up his body, his suit slowly soaking up his own blood, the black fabric heavy and wet without a hint of water intermixed in the weave. It’s hard to move, to think, to do anything other than breathe. No, even that is hard. 

It doesn’t matter though. He needs to move, needs to run. 

He’s getting close, feet now on flat earth rather than steep stairs, body carrying him towards the fight as he tries so very hard not to pass out. The image in front of him is blurry, black at the edges in a familiar way he knows means he needs to hurry if he wants to get anything done. 

Almost there, almost there, the warp quirk is moving exactly where Izuku wants him, vanishing before reappearing right in his path. ‘How foolish’ he says, as though he didn’t do exactly as expected.

 At the last second, Izuku hears something approaching, eyes flickering to the side, quickly taking in a familiar form. The second his mind registers the added variable, his plan shifts, hand swinging out in an arc. The warp quirk makes a sound of surprise when Izuku’s hand makes contact, metal screeching against sharp talons as he shifts and pushes it towards waiting hands. 

“Kacchan! Catch!” His brother doesn’t hesitate, smiling that familiar sharp smile as he slams the metal to the floor.

Not even a second later, Izuku hears the hiss of ice spreading over the ground with impressive speed. In seconds, the monster is coated in it, frozen in place. Izuku stumbles to the side, body complaining as he drops to his knees next to Kacchan who lets out a series of small explosions right against the metal ring in his hand.

“One wrong move and you die.” 

Izuku clenches his teeth, turning to look at the monster before twisting to see Todoroki who is standing a good ten feet away. To have that much control over his ice from so far away, maybe Izuku was wrong about his capabilities. 

“One of your poorly trained thugs told me you’re here because you think you can kill All Might.” Todoroki sounds unimpressed, deadpan, and Izuku feels his chest release as All Might takes the chance he’s been given, peeling the monsters hands away from his wound and jumping out in one smooth motion. His side is still bloody, and it looks like he’s in pain, but he’s out of the trap. 

He’s out. 

They did it.

“The symbol of Peace will not be defeated by delinquents like you.”

God, they did it. 

“Take this!” Red hair rushes into his vision, trying to get the jump on a distracted Shigaraki. Of course, the villain dodges, but it was a valiant effort. Thankfully, Kirishima cuts his losses and jumps back behind them with little complaint. Izuku makes eye contact with the boy and nods, earning a wide smile that helps some of the pain flake away.

Once the clearing goes quiet, Izuku slumps forwards, sucking in air as he looks up at Shigaraki, the only villain free from their grasp. The hand on his face hides the expression beneath, but his shoulders are shaking with an anger Izuku remembers all too well. 

“Kurogiri. How could you let this brat get the best of you?” Wait, no, he doesn’t sound angry. If anything, he sounds... amused. 

“You’ve gotten us into a real jam here.” Izuku tenses, mind traveling back to all the times Shigaraki got mad at a game or dusted pieces of Izuku’s bench in the locker room. Something’s off, but he’s not sure what. 

“Ha! That’s what you get for underestimating us you damn villains.” Kacchan sounds proud, but it’s lacking the homicidal edge Izuku remembers. Either way, he doesn’t seem to notice the same thing Izuku does. “It wasn’t hard to figure you out. Only certain parts of you turn into that smoking warp gate. You used that mist to hide your actual body as a distraction, thinking that made you safe! That’s why we missed the first time.” 

Yes, something’s wrong, and only Izuku can tell. Shigaraki should seem defeated, angry, but he’s... not. 

“But if you didn’t have a body, you wouldn’t be wearing this neck armor, right? You’re not immune to physical attacks if they’re well aimed.” Kurogiri doesn’t seem to like his defenses being seen through, flaring up ever so slightly before the familiar crackle pop of explosions reminds him of his situation. 

“I meant what I said. One wrong move and you’re dead.” That seems to do the trick, the mist going still once more, but something’s still wrong. Izuku tries to focus, but his head is fuzzy and his body is aching, and he’s not sure what to do. 

“Not only did they escape uninjured, but they also captured my two strongest men. Kids these days are so strong, just like I told you Kaho. They make my League look like amateurs. Can’t have that can we?” He tries to shift, to stand up, but the movement pulls at his skin and his vision goes black for all of three seconds, forcing him to stumble back to the ground. 

“Nomu.” Izuku freezes, eyes going wide as the monster rises from the portal it was supposed to be trapped in. It stands against all odds, frozen limbs detaching like some sort of sick doll without earning so much as a flinch. The sight is more than disgusting, morbid in every sense of the word as Izuku tries to stay sane. 

“How the hell is that thing still moving?” He looks towards Kirishima who is staring at the creature in horror, Todoroki standing next to him with an expression of shock as his ice does nothing to stop the monster from escaping its grave. 

“Everybody, stay back!” All Might sounds panicked, and that alone sends fear arching through Izuku’s system. 

And just when he thought things couldn’t get worse, the damn monster starts regenerating. Izuku watches with badly hidden horror as the spot where its arm should be bulges and grows into a new, fully functioning limb in seconds. 

“What is this? I thought you said his power was shock absorption!” Shock absorption? How the hell does that translate to regeneration. 

“I didn’t say that was his only quirk. He also has super-regeneration.” Izuku knew something was wrong. This creature, it shouldn’t be able to exist. “Nomu has been modified to take you on even at 100% of your power. He’s basically a highly efficient punching bag that hits back!” 

It’s a freak of nature, and Izuku should probably be dead right now. Even worse, so should Aizawa. 

“First, we need to free our method of escape.” The second those words slip from Shigaraki’s mouth, Izuku knows they need to get out of here, but that they’re far too slow.

“Get him, Nomu.” It all happens in less than a second, and he can only barely see it. 

At first, Kacchan and Izuku are on the ground, hanging over a trapped villain. Then, they’re collapsed next to a shocked Kirishima and Todoroki as the trees behind them bend with the wind created by a massive blast. 

Izuku turns the second he’s sure he isn’t dead, looking at where he saw the Nomu make contact with All Might half a second after they were thrown to the side. The Nomu, who is now crouched over the mist villain with unseeing eyes staring off into the distance. 

Then Izuku looks to his left, where Kacchan sits with wide eyes and an open mouth, staring at the Nomu in shock. Right, normal people can’t see as well as Izuku, which means everything happened faster than Kacchan can track. Izuku wants to reach out, to comfort him, but it’s taking all his energy to keep himself from collapsing entirely.

He shouldn’t have come. He should have let Shoji take him up the stairs and stayed with Aizawa. He should have done a lot of things, and there’s nothing he can do about it now other than try to not mess up again.

“Woah! Bakugou! How did you manage to dodge that?” Kirishima is looking at Kacchan in awe, and something about it reminds Izuku that they’re just kids. Shigaraki just sent a fully charged attack towards two teenagers, without a hint of hesitation.

“Of course I didn’t dodge, idiot.” Kacchan’s words are unusually quiet, and Izuku can tell that he’s still in shock, skin pale and hands trembling. 

“Then how’d you get over here?” Izuku pauses, taking a deep breath in an attempt to keep his voice steady. 

“All Might.” That gets everyone’s attention, all eyes turning towards the still settling dust and debris and the shattered wall behind it. When the dust clears, there he stands, blood dripping from his lips and the sleeves of his shirt ripped to shreds. The image makes Izuku tense, mind recalling the way All Might coughed blood into his hand during that damn exercise on Monday. 

Right, All Might isn’t as strong as he once was. Something’s holding him back, something big. 

Not good. Not good at all. 

“He saves the kids, huh? Just as expected.” At this point, Izuku really isn’t sure if Shigaraki is actually trying to kill students. God, this is messing with his head.

“Do you not know how to hold back?” All Might sounds pained, which isn’t a good sign in the slightest. 

“I was to rescue my companions. I had no choice!”And Shigaraki sounds far too happy right now, which answers exactly none of Izuku’s questions. “I mean, earlier, that.. Ahh, the one with the wings. He was ready to full on kill my Nomu!” Izuku freezes, wondering for all of two seconds why Shigaraki is pretending not to know him before pushing it to the side and counting his blessings. 

“Violence for the sake of others makes it admirable. Isn’t that right, hero?” Izuku clenches his teeth, hating the way he would say the exact same thing. There’s a difference, he knows there’s a difference, but god he doesn’t have the energy to agree with a villain right now. 

“You know what, All Might? I’m angry! I’m angry at this world that categorizes violent acts as heroic or villainous, deciding what’s good and what’s bad based on arbitrary rules that you bend whenever it doesn’t suit your narrative. “Symbol of Peace”? Ha. You’re just a device to repress violence deemed villainous by the true villains who sit in their high towers and hoard their gold and power. Violence only breeds violence, and the world will know that when I’m finished."

Damnit. Those words are so similar to his own, and that stings. That Shigaraki’s using Izuku’s words to hurt innocents. Eraserhead might have permanent injuries thanks to this maniac, and, at least in part, the blame falls on Izuku’s shoulders.  

Damnit. 

“That’s preposterous. The eyes of white-collar criminals like you burn silently. You just want to enjoy this yourself, don’t you, you liar?” That makes Izuku pause. Once, years ago, in an old concrete room, Izuku would have agreed with All Might. He would have looked Shigaraki in the eye and called his whole plan a farce. 

But he did do that, and it changed things. 

Shigaraki changed, grew in all the wrong ways. He grew to have a goal, a plan, a desire that was more than just destruction. Shigaraki changed, and it might have been Izuku’s fault. How is he supposed to explain that to everyone? That he made this worse?

“It’s three against five.” Izuku jerks, grimacing in pain before focusing in on Todoroki who no longer looks five seconds away from having his world crashing down around him. He looks determined now, like he’s preparing to fight. Kacchan is standing, Izuku the only one still tethered to the ground.

“I already figured out that damn warp quirk.” Kacchan also sounds determined, but what they’re saying is so very stupid.

“These guys are crazy, but if we backup All Might we can push them back!” Izuku wants to slap them and tell them that they’d do nothing but get in the way, but he doesn’t have time before All Might is cutting them off. 

“No!” They all jerk towards the hero, eyes wide as they watch him hold out his arm as though telling them to stay back. “Run away.” 

Izuku wants to relax, but Todoroki doesn’t look ready to give up quite yet. 

“You would’ve been in trouble if I hadn’t done anything earlier, right?” Yes, and there’s no way he’d be able to pull something like that off a second time now that the villains are prepared. 

“That was a different story, young Todoroki. Thanks. But it’s fine! Just watch as a pro gives it everything he’s got.” Good, he’s not going to hold back anymore. Something’s still off, but their only choice is to trust in All Might’s strength. There’s nothing else, no other option, no other way for them to get out of this. The other heroes should be here any second, but that Nomu could kill them long before that. 

They just need to hold out a little longer, and god, Izuku hopes All Might will be able to do that. 

“Nomu, Kurogiri, get him. I’ll take care of the children.” Izuku watches, as the Nomu stands, as All Might prepares to fight. He watches and tries so very hard to keep his eyes open. Is this it? Is Shigaraki going to kill them, or is he going to keep them from interfering a different way? He has no idea, and that fact is driving him crazy. 

“Now, let’s clear this level and go home.” Either way, they need to leave, need to get out of the blast radius. 

Izuku watches even as he struggles to his feet, watches as Shigaraki turns and starts running towards them, expression hidden and body language giving nothing away. He watches, until everyone is freezing in place, jerking towards All Might as a pressure pushes down on their lungs. 

He can taste the change in the air, the way All Might shifts right in front of them into something more than human. The space around him trembles in the wake of a god, one weakened by time in a way no one knows but beyond the threshold of humans, nonetheless. 

The first attack is so strong, so powerful, the wind created knocks everyone back. Izuku falls on his wings, eyes shutting tight when the impact sends pain arching through his body. For a solid ten seconds, he blanks, ears ringing and vision black even when he opens his eyes.

He can feel the wind, the pressure, the power, but he can’t hear anything, or see anything, or recognize who is friend and who is foe. That becomes important when hands wrap around his shoulders, lifting him off the ground in a way that relieves the pressure on his wings he wasn’t able to notice. 

He almost lashes out until he recognizes the familiar heat and the comforting presence of his brother, spots slowly filling his vision until he’s finally able to see again. 

Kacchan looks concerned, even as his hair blows in the wind. It’s taking a lot of effort to stay where they are, to not be blown away like twigs in a breeze. 

“All Might?” Kacchan looks away from him for all of five seconds before pulling him up so he can see for himself. 

What he sees, what’s taking place in front of his eyes, is so out of this world he can’t really understand what he’s looking at. The speed, it’s faster than his eyes can track, something that’s never happened before in his life. The pressure, the constantly growing strength, it’s past super human. 

It’s godlike. 

This is what All Might is like when he’s weak? This is how far he can go when he’s past his prime?

God, the number one hero really is a monster. 

Izuku falls back once more, takes slow, deep breaths, keeps his eyes open. His classmates are looking on in awe, are watching their hero do something no human should be able to do. The ground shatters with each attack, like building blocks falling apart at the hands of an angry toddler.

He doesn’t need to see in order to know that, he can feel it all too well. He can feel the earth break apart, can feel the tremors shake the building. 

He can feel it, can hear All Might as he says words that he can’t quite understands, senses on overload as he takes everything in without pause. 

Izuku can see the fight end seconds before All Might lands the final blow, words Izuku knows will be engraved in his mind for months shouted out into the clearing before a blast strong enough to create shock waves farther than the eye can see sends the monster flying through the ceiling.

“PluS- ULTRA!!”

Izuku looks up, at the hole and the flames and the sudden silence as everyone looks on in awe. The beast is gone, the monster defeated. All Might did it. He did it. Izuku wants to sob, to fall apart in relief, but he forces himself to stay calm. He looks forwards, as All Might stands up in the smoke.

“Is this a comic book or something? It’s like he nullified the shock absorption. His brute strength is crazy.” Kirishima sounds like he’s in shock, standing tall as they stare at the aftermath. 

“What insane power...” Izuku turns to look at Kacchan who’s staring right at All Might with wide eyes. “Does that mean he rushed at him so fast he couldn’t regenerate?” The air tastes sweet. It tastes like victory. 

“I really have gotten weaker.” Izuku tries to sit up, ignoring the pain and relaxing ever so slightly when Kacchan reaches over and helps him the last few inches. “In my prime, five hits would’ve been enough. But it took more than three hundred.” The air settles, and Izuku can’t help but smile, something small and happy and so very relieved. 

But it’s not over yet. 

All Might turns, facing Shigaraki who is still standing, still staring through that damn hand, shoulders shaking with what must be anger.

“Now, villains... I’m sure we’d all like to end this as soon as possible.” That makes Izuku pause, eyes looking back at All Might, wondering why he wouldn’t just capture them now. He looks closely, even as Shigaraki says something about cheat codes and weaknesses. He looks closely, noticing the strange smoke that seems to rise from All Might’s skin instead of the ground. 

Something’s wrong. 

“What’s wrong villain? You’re not coming? You said you’d “clear” this or something, right? Come and get me, if you can." No, something’s wrong. 

Izuku thinks back, to the time he saw that blood, to the way All Might rushes out of every class, to the three fingers Thirteen put up before she gave her speech. 

Time. 

There’s a time limit. 

And All Might’s reached it. 

Shigaraki is still shaking, fingers scratching at his neck like he always does when he’s angry. He’s talking about his Sensei, about false information and how it shouldn’t have gone this way. 

He’s snapping, which is exactly what you don’t want when trying to pull a bluff. 

Izuku feels something burn in his chest, fire that he’s been pushing down this whole time. The pain suddenly goes quiet as he stumbles to his feet, chest raising and falling in steady intervals as he focuses on keeping himself going. 

Kurogiri is talking now, giving Shigaraki a push, a push to attack, to fight and Shigaraki is listening. 

Izuku knows what’s about to happen, and he knows All Might can’t stop it. 

The rabble around them start to stand, and his classmates turn to face them. Kacchan still glances at him with worried eyes, silently asking if he’s going to be okay, but he doesn’t have the energy to comfort him. 

“Midoriya?” It’s not Kacchan who speaks, but Todoroki, wondering why he isn’t facing the villains like they are. Izuku’s the only one who notices, the way that All Might is shaking, the way that smoke is coming from his skin, the way he’s out of time. 

It all ends quickly, in seconds. Not as fast as All Might, not as fast as the monster, but fast enough that no one has time to stop him. Shigaraki sets his target, and attacks. 

But not before Izuku reads him like a book. 

The pain vanishes, wings beating hard enough to push Kacchan and Todoroki back. He’s fast, and Shigaraki doesn’t have time to dodge him, hand wrapping around the villain’s wrist seconds before it reaches its target.  

Izuku lands in front of All Might, and Shigaraki screams. 

He screams a bloodcurdling scream that echoes through the building, pulling back to try and escape Izuku’s grasp. Before anyone can figure out what happened, the tide changes, a gunshot ringing through the building as Shigaraki pulls away. Izuku lets go, watching as the villain stumbles back, as more gunshots ring out.

He can hear someone speak, someone by the entrance, but he can’t hear the words. The heroes, they’re here.

They made it. 

Shigaraki vanishes in the mist, long gone with bullet wounds in his skin and a burn mark on his wrist. It’s done, they did it. 

He hears Present Mic use his quirk, hears the fight commence as the heroes target the remaining villains. He hears it, somewhere in the background, even as he turns around and looks at the one hero who saved them all. 

All Might looks horrible. There’s blood on his face, dripping from his lips, cuts and scrapes and bruises covering his skin. He looks horrible, and Izuku isn’t sure what to do. 

But then the world seems to go quiet, and All Might looks down at him and smiles and something about that lowers the last few walls Izuku tossed up in an effort to stay sane. It will be okay. The heroes are here.

For a second, something breaks through the quiet, a concerned voice shouting out. Izuku looks to the side, watching Kirishima rush towards them. Before Izuku can say that they’re okay, that they’re alive, Kirishima is suddenly shoved out of view as a wall spawns out of nowhere. A nowhere also known as Cementoss. 

Izuku looks at the hero in confusion before turning back to a still smoking All Might. All Might, who slumps forwards and lets out a low groan before looking down at him with a strange expression. That expression stays there for a second before the hero nods and smiles once more. 

“Don’t be alarmed my boy. I apologize for my weakness.” And then, All Might explodes. 

...

Wait what?

Izuku blinks, staring at a pillar of smoke that slowly fades away, floating into the air, revealing a very strange sight indeed. Izuku was right. Something was wrong.

There, right in front of him, stands All Might, thin and sickly and looking like a strong breeze could knock him over. It looks wrong, so very wrong, but Izuku can’t quite take it in properly. The pain is back, pushing at his skull as his vision fills with spots, but he needs to ask, to make sure.

“You’re... are you okay?” All Might smiles, a small smile, somehow far more real than anything he showed in that other form. 

“Yes, young Midoriya, I am okay. Thank you. You very well may have saved my life.” Izuku blinks a few times, mind starting to blank as he forces himself to stay standing. Good, he did good, he kept the Symbol of Peace alive for one more day. It’s all good. 

“That’s... that’s good.” He looks back up, not remembering when he looked down, making eye contact with kind blue eyes that are starting to look a little concerned. 

“Okay... I think I’m going to pass out now.” The smile disappears, replaced by a confused frown until All Might’s eyes go wide and he’s reaching forwards with an alarmed sound, grabbing Izuku’s shoulders seconds before he collapses. 

For a moment, Izuku watches as the hero tries to say something, but the words seem fuzzy, far away. His side stings, his arm is burning, his wings are aching, and his vision is going black. At the last second, he forces his eyes open and smiles up at the hero one last time.

The last thing he sees is fear, flickering in his vision until everything goes black. 

He did good.

He can rest now.

Chapter Text

“You seem awful young to be fighting like that.”

Izuku jerks, spinning around from where he was trying to shove his fight suit into a locker, eyes locking on to the stranger standing near the entrance of the room. The locker room. Izuku’s locker room. Izuku’s personal locker room. Last he checked, that meant no other people could get in. 

This person, whoever they are, are still most definitely people. That means they either broke in, or Kousei gave them a key. Izuku’s leaning towards the key option, but only because he probably would have noticed someone trying to break in. 

“Don’t worry old man. Some of us are just late bloomers.” He says it without emotion, a technique he’s been trying to master as a form of self defense, and it comes out halfway decent if he says so himself. Only, seconds after he says the words out loud, he realizes that saying them may not have been the best idea...

Izuku doesn’t know much about Kousei, but he does know that he does dealings with, well, shady people, and this dude is as shady as they come. And he doesn’t want to point fingers, but only one of them is wearing a fucking hand on their face and is that a real hand okay, maybe it wasn’t a good idea to provoke them oh boy he’s probably gonna die. 

Too bad. 

At least it will get these wounds healed. 

With that thought in his head, Izuku finishes shoving his suit into the locker before turning around and relaxing, prepared to wait for his doom in silence. Only, it never comes. A few seconds pass, then a few more, over and over until an unusually long stretch of time passes without a hint of change. 

The stranger is silent, and from what Izuku can see of his face, his eyes are wide open in surprise, which was not the expression he expected. Anger, would be closer to his original expectation, maybe even murderous intent, not surprise. It’s a little annoying, waiting in silence like this, so the second he sees movement Izuku latches on to it with focused eyes. 

He’s moving, he’s blinking, he’s gonna-

“Pfft- HAHAHA! HAHAAHAHA” Izuku blinks, staring in confusion as the stranger cackles like a maniac. His laugh is, frankly, disturbing, but it sounds kind of strange. Either this dude never learned how to laugh, or he’s been practicing his evil cackle in the mirror every night before going to bed.

“HAHA- HA- Ha- hehe. That’s fucking hilarious. How did you do that? That thing, where you didn’t have any emotion? Hilarious. Now.” Izuku freezes, body automatically tensing when the stranger’s tone changes to something very, very dangerous, cracked fingers reaching up to partially peel the hand off his face. “Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you.”

Well, there it is. Izuku called it.

God, does this stranger looks creepy.

“Honestly, I don’t really care. Have at it.”

That seems to catch him off guard, eyebrows furrowing and mouth pulling into a slight frown. It’s far less creepy than that smile he had a few seconds ago. Like this, he actually looks human!

“Can I know your name before you kill me?” Sue him, he’s curious.

But of course, his question is met with silence. Five seconds, ten, twenty, are we going a full minute again?

“Shigaraki Tomura.” Oh yay! A name! A full name too! Which is a little alarming because it means this stranger is either stupid or they don’t have any need to protect their anonymity. 

“Nice to meet you Shigaraki, I’m Kaho.” Just to speed things along, he takes a few steps towards the door until he's close enough to touch. Shigaraki takes a step back, lowering his stance as if preparing for a fight. Of course, Izuku doesn’t attack, simply holding out his hand in invitation.

That also seems to catch the stranger off guard, red eyes blinking in confusion as he looks between Izuku’s hand and face. Once again, they play the waiting game, giving Izuku plenty of time to watch Shigaraki have a very vivid conversation in his own head. He looks about ready to have an aneurysm at this point.

“Are you fucking stupid or something?” Izuku blinks, forcing down the expressions that want to push their way up his throat.

“I mean... rude. If you’re talking about your quirk, yes I am aware that it’s touch based.” It’s not like it’s hard to tell.

But either the fact that he knew and still held out his hand, or the fact that he knew in the first place is apparently far more shocking than anything else he’s done or said so far. Shigaraki practically flinches, eyes going wide as he stares at Izuku like he’s insane. That, is kind of funny, but he’s doing a pretty good job of keeping his face neutral, so no laughing.

“Are you left handed? I can use my other hand.” At this point, he’s just making shit up to try and get a reaction. He still holds up his left hand though, just in case.

Of course, that too must be confusing, because Shigaraki immediately starts staring at Izuku’s hands like they’re the weirdest things he’s ever seen. He looks completely and utterly baffled, and Izuku might understand a little. Only a little though.

This is probably a villain, and one who looks the part. Like, he has a dismembered limb on his face. Or, well, in his hand. So, it would make sense that he’s not used to being treated like this. But despite that, he shouldn’t be this shocked. Like, a little, sure! But to the point of standing in silence for a full minute? Definitely not.

“Okay, dude, are you going to shake my hand or not?” Izuku knows he sounds a little frustrated, but he honestly can’t help it at this point. This dude is frustrating, and he’s only been working on the blank thing for like, two months. It’s hard, okay?

“Uh...” Oh for fuck’s sake.

For the second time, Izuku takes a step forwards. He’s fast, faster that Shigaraki expected, which means he manages to grab a hand and shake it for a solid second before it’s being yanked away like his touch burns. Which, fair, but hey! He got a hand shake!

“What the fuck!?” Shigaraki jerks back, settling into yet another stance as he looks between Izuku’s face and hand. Izuku's not entirely sure why his hand is being looked at until he finally registers the pain. He looks down in confusion, staring at the spots where Shigaraki’s fingers touched his skin.

Or at least, what used to be his skin.

The marks are small and shallow, almost like the top layer of his skin flaked off his body like paper. It looks... interesting. Very interesting.

“That’s cool.” Shigaraki seems to choke on thin air, drawing Izuku’s attention back up.

“Cool?!! I just fucking decayed your skin!!! How the fuck is that cool?!!” Oh, yeah, that was probably a weird thing to say.

“Decayed? Is that what it’s called? Decay?” Yet another choked sound.

“What the fuck?! I mean, yeah, but what the fuck?! What are you, suicidal!!?” Izuku chuckles, giving up on his attempt to remove emotion. This is too weird of a situation to practice with.

“I mean, yeah. Isn’t that obvious?” Seriously, he told the dude to kill him.

“what the fuck what the fuck what the fuck-“ Dear heavens, is he really freaking out over this?

“What? Never met a suicidal person?” Shigaraki jerks, continuing to look at him like he’s gone nuts. And, well, he wouldn’t be entirely wrong.

“...Fucking- go jump off a bridge or something. I’m not doing your job for you.” And with that, Shigaraki turns around and leaves, muttering about how Izuku is ‘fucking crazy’ the whole way. Izuku notes how he uses four fingers to open the door, which means it's a five finger activation requirement. Interesting.

Whelp. That was a wonderful first interaction!

Hopefully, there isn’t another.

-Present Time-

Izuku wakes up with old memories floating in his mind and a dull pain pulsing in his side, head aching as he tries to center himself. The bed is uncomfortable and the air smells of antiseptic, a steady beeping ringing through the room as he tries his best not to light the itchy sheet on fire.

Oh, he’s in a hospital.

Why is he in a hospital?

Right. Shigaraki attacked his class and Izuku fucked up and got injured. That’s a thing that happened, and probably why he dreamed about the first time he met the villain. He still has scars on his hand from that day. Small and subtle, but scars nonetheless. 

It doesn’t really matter though, just another mark added to his vast collection of things he ignores. But the memories, they might matter. If he really did make things worse, if he really did create a problem, he should know about it. He should try to remember, try to find out where things went wrong. 

But, he can do that later. For now, it would be nice to know where he is and if his teachers are okay. Now, how to do that. 

The first step is opening his eyes, squinting when the lights burn his retinas before grimacing because the pain doesn’t go away even after his vision adjusts. A headache. Just what he needed.

The room is white, so very white, and he seems to be alone. There’s an empty chair to his right and a mess of machines to his left, no second bed or curtains to be found. Yes, he’s alone, with only some wires and a call button to keep him company. He sighs, staring at the button and wondering if he should press it. 

Just when he’s about to reach over with his good arm, his action is interrupted by the door aggressively swinging open with a bang. He jerks, hissing when the sudden movement sends pain shooting up his side, but ultimately ignoring it in favor of looking towards the door. 

“Fucking doctors, can’t even-“ Ahh, yes. Kacchan. 

“What did the doctors do to you?” Izuku almost smiles at the way Kacchan practically jumps into the air, apparently expecting him to be fast asleep. For a second, they just stare at eachother, and when that second lasts a bit longer than expected, Izuku starts to wonder if something is actually wrong. 

Kacchan is staring at him like he’s done something unexpected, which is strange because Izuku feels fine. Well, mostly fine. Okay, there’s a decent amount of pain, but that’s normal.

“Kacchan?” That snaps him out of it, eyes blinking a few times before he stops gawking and finally speaks. 

“The hell are you doing up?!” Izuku pauses, wondering why those were the words his brother chose. It almost sounds like he’s not supposed to be up, like he’s done something wrong instead of simply, well, waking up. 

“Uh... I finished sleeping?” How is he supposed to respond to that?

“I watched them drug you! They’re supposed to be keeping you under until some dude with the right quirk comes and works on you!” Oh. That’s... interesting. 

“Well, I’m awake now. I didn’t exactly wake up on purpose.” Kacchan sighs and rubs his face before walking to the metal chair and sitting down with a huff. 

“Yeah, you’re right. Lemme guess, your side hurts.” Izuku blinks before looking down at his wrapped up skin and shrugging, which of course sends shards of pain up his body that he somehow manages to ignore with only a little effort. 

“I saw that. You’re not as good at hiding your pain as you think you are, wise guy.” That makes him pause again, mind trying to go over what gave him away before giving up and letting himself relax back into the inclined bed. It’s rather uncomfortable, laying on his wings, but he really doesn’t feel like laying on his side right now. Even his good one. 

For a minute, they just sit in silence as Izuku tries to ignore the pain. He could call the nurse, but he doesn’t really want to now that he has company. Really, he doesn’t want to be here at all. It’d be a lot easier to swallow some poison tea and call it quits, even if it does leave him feeling rather weak for a few hours. 

“Stop it.” Izuku blinks, turning to look at Kacchan in confusion.

“Don’t think about killing yourself. It’s rude to all the people who tried to keep you alive.” That's... not what he expected. For a second, he just stares, wondering how Kacchan read him a second time, then his focus shifts to the words themselves. He’s not... wrong, but Izuku’s never thought of it that way. 

Maybe because no one’s tried to save him before now. 

Before he can fall into a mental spiral, his thoughts are once more interrupted by the opening of the door. It’s far more relaxed this time, slow and mostly silent as two pairs of feet walk inside. 

“Katsuki, I know you’re angry but you can’t get mad at the doc-“ The second they see him, both Mitsuki and Masaru freeze in place, eyes wide as they stare at where he’s propped up against the bed. Their mouths falls open for a solid five seconds before they both rush towards him. 

“Oh my god! Izuku! You shouldn’t be awake! How are you awake?! Did they mess something up?!” He doesn’t speak for a minute, letting them fuss over him with wide eyes and panicked words. They look him over, moving their hands over his uninjured side, cupping his face with worried expressions. 

He won’t lie, it’s nice. It’s been a long time since he let people this close, and something in him is craving the contact despite the way he’s avoided it in the past. 

“Are you okay? Are you in a lot of pain?” It’s mostly Mitsuki talking, so she’s the one he faces when he responds. 

“I’m fine. It doesn’t hurt if I don’t move.” She lets out a relieved sigh, shifting to the side to reach for the call button. He doesn’t stop her, too tired to protest and a little curious as to why he was able to wake up in the first place. 

Once the button has been pressed, they end up waiting a few seconds before the speaker crackles to life and words spill out. 

“Nurse’s station. Everything okay in there?” The nurse doesn’t sound concerned, probably because the patient is supposed to be fast asleep. 

“Yeah, he woke up? He’s awake, right now.” There’s a beat of silence before the speakers cut out and footsteps start rushing towards them. In seconds, the door is swinging open as a young nurse steps in to his room with wide eyes and a shocked expression. 

When he sees him, the shock only grows. He blinks a few times and stutters out a word he can’t quite hear before holding up a finger and running back out. Kacchan rolls his eyes but doesn’t say anything, still sitting on the chair as Mitsuki grips Izuku’s hand from where she’s standing next to all the machines. 

Another few seconds pass before a new set of footsteps come rushing towards them once more, the boy from before and a new nurse stepping into the room, both staring at him in surprise. Unlike before, the new nurse doesn’t waste time, not even pausing on her way to check the machines. 

“Why hello there Midoriya-san! You’re not supposed to be awake quite yet.” Izuku huffs out a soft laugh, relaxing into the itchy sheets as the nurse pokes and prods at all the equipment. 

“So I’ve been told.” The nurse smiles before grabbing his chart and jotting something down, the corners of her lips just tense enough for him to know that something’s off. 

“Well, how about I look at those wounds, huh? Just to see where we’re at.” She moves around to the other side, waiting for Kacchan to get out of the way so she can get close to the bed. She’s gentle with it, lifting the bandage until she's able to see the giant red patch on his arm. 

Izuku watches closely, pausing when he sees a flicker of surprise pass over her face before understanding settles in. Once she’s done, the bandage is gently laid back in place and she steps back with a smile. 

“Wonderful! Now, I’m going to get a doctor in here to give you a quick rundown. It should only be a few minutes, so just bear with us.” Kacchan grumbles something, but Izuku ignores it, and so does everyone else in the room. He focuses on the nurse, nodding his head and letting his arm go lax now that everything’s back in place.

“Thank you. Uhm... Do you know the status of the Pro Hero Eraserhead? Aizawa Shota?” The nurse pauses, her mouth spreading into a far more real smile than the last one. 

“There’s no need to worry! Everyone who came in from the attack is doing just fine. Now, do you need some water while you wait?” Well, that doesn’t tell him much. She doesn’t seem to be lying though, so it should be fine. 

“Uh, yeah. Water would be nice.” 

Waiting for the doctor is somewhat nerve wracking, each minute that passes giving him extra time to worry about whatever surprised that nurse. He feels fine, not even drowsy. Sure his side hurts some, but nowhere near as much as it did at USJ. Mitsuki doesn’t stop talking, going on about the most recent client she’s been working with, likely trying to distract him from all his worrying. 

It doesn’t really work, but it’s still nice of her to try. 

Almost fifteen minutes pass before the nurse walks back into the room, a new person right behind her. This one is wearing different clothes, carrying a clipboard and wearing a pair of fancy glasses. They look interesting, with their snakelike eyes and the splattering of scales sprinkled over their skin. 

“Hello, my name is Dr. Tanaka. It’s lovely to meet you while you’re awake Midoriya-san. Nurse Nakamura here updated me on everything, and I’m pretty sure I know what’s going on. Were you aware that you have advanced regeneration?” 

...

Oh, that would explain some things. 

“Uh, no. I wasn’t.” That would explain a lot of things, actually. 

“Yes, well, It’s not unusual for people with advanced regeneration to be rather resistant to anesthetics, especially less potent ones like the one we used. Now, do you mind if I check out your wound to see how far it’s gotten?” No wonder it no longer feels like someone dragged him across a concrete road. 

“Have at it.” He lifts his arm over the blanket, still being careful to not put too much pressure on his side. The Doctor is careful, slowly unwrapping his arm until the red patch is open to the air. The scab looks partially healed, which makes sense, but it still stings a little when hit with the cold air. 

“Wonderful. Doctor Kimura should be here any second to finish it up, but it’s already healed a decent bit. I’d say it would heal in a few days max, which is rather impressive. It looks like you have what we would call fourth level regeneration. That basically means it increases natural healing to a high degree. You won’t regenerate your limb or something, but you will process poison and medication better than the average human.

Now, your family did tell me about your secondary quirk, which is very special indeed, and this might be linked to it. I can recommend you to a quirk specialist if you so desire, but it’s not exactly necessary for your recovery. Dr. Kimura will finish up your healing and you can be on your way if that’s what you’d prefer.” Izuku nods, looking down at his arm for a few more seconds before looking back up at the doctor.

“I’d rather leave as soon as possible. I don’t need a quirk specialist. Thank you, though.” The doctor smiles and nods, standing up straight and walking back to the foot of his bed. 

“I completely understand. I’ll start the paperwork for your discharge as soon as Dr. Kimura gives me the go ahead.” Sweet, they’re not going to keep him here. 

“Now- Oh, looks like he’s here.” Everyone turns to stare at the entrance, where a tired looking man walks into the room like a zombie. He looks very done with the world and about ready to pass out where he’s standing, but still smiles at Izuku when they make eye contact. 

“Hi hi. Yes, I’m fine. It’s just a side effect of my quirk. Now, what am I dealing with?”

Getting healed is far easier than waiting was, each step short and fast until all the doctors are walking out of the room as Izuku sits there with fresh skin on his arm and side. He stares at the lack of red, poking at the skin every few seconds before finally stopping and turning to look at Mitsuki who’s talking about the discharge paperwork. 

He only needs to sign a few things before he’s being shoved into the bathroom with a bag of clothes that Mitsuki packed for him. He gets changed quickly, body feeling light and fuzzy thanks to the aftereffects of the healing quirk. Far more pleasant than the ones used by those Kousei hired.

The drive home feels slow, and he can’t help but look out the window as he curls up his wings to fit in the car. It’s a familiar feeling, but uncomfortable nonetheless. So, he thinks. He thinks and wonders and tries to relax despite the tension in the air. He’s not sure how to break it, not sure what he should do. 

The second they get home, Mitsuki sits everyone down at the table and serves them dinner. He doesn’t complain, still trying to stay calm even as images of his teacher’s mangled body flash behind his eyelids. He tries to ignore it, to focus on the food, but it doesn’t really work. 

He can’t bring himself to stay. He should. He should play a game with his family, should try to calm their concern, but he can’t bring himself to push past the memories attempting to flood his mind. So, he thanks Mitsuki for the dinner and he leaves. 

He walks upstairs and sits on his bed and stares at the wall, the thoughts in his head screaming at him as he takes deep breaths and tries so very hard to stay calm. 

The attack, Thirteen, Eraserhead, The Nomu, Shigaraki. It’s too much, too many variables. If he only faced one thing, one enemy, he could handle it, but he didn’t. He faced three monsters, and he still doesn’t even know what day it is, when the attack happened. 

Oh, he could check his phone. 

Thankfully, he still has it on him, but when he tries to turn it on, the screen stays black. Right, it must have died. It only takes a few seconds on the charger before he’s able to open it up, immediately hit by a wave of notifications. He blinks, but forces himself to focus on his task. 

Thursday, okay. The attack was yesterday, he slept through the night. They said everyone was fine, so Eraserhead should stay stable if he’s made it this long. Yes, everything’s fine. 

It’s all fine. 

Now, who’s been texting him?

The first thing he notices when he unlocks the screen is that he has texts from more than one person, Ochaco being the most recent. He clicks on her bubble, watching as the chat pops up and the notifications disappear. 

Uraraka: Are you okay?
Uraraka: Oh, you’re probably not awake yet...
Uraraka: All the students are okay, you were the only one who really got injured at all.
Uraraka: I hope you’re okay! Text me when you’re awake!

Ahh, makes sense. It was probably fairly distressing, seeing someone get carried away on a stretcher. He should message her, tell her everything’s fine. Yeah, he can do that. 

Midoriya: I’m fine. They had someone with a good quirk, fully healed now. You’re okay?

He waits for an answer, blinking when the message gets marked read barely five seconds later and dots appear on his screen not a second after that. That’s a little unusual, but makes sense if she was watching something on her phone. 

Uraraka: Oh, that’s good! I’m fine, we’re all fine. 
Uraraka: I’ll tell everyone else that you’re better! Is that okay?
Midoriya: That’s fine. 
Uraraka: Sweet! Okay, I’ll let you get some sleep now.
Midoriya: Thanks. Good night.
Uraraka: Gnight!

The dots stop, and the messages sit there without moving, leaving him blinking at his screen as he tries to take in the information. It wasn’t much information, but his head is already so full, so loud. Whatever. She’s okay. Everyone else should be okay. It’s all okay. 

It’s all fine. 

After clenching his teeth and forcing himself to back out of the chat, he opens the next notification and stares at a much more panicked one sided conversation, from Shinsou Hitoshi, of all people. Oh, right, he was supposed to meet with Shinsou after class yesterday. Whoops. 

Shinsou: Hey, do you know where all the teachers went?
Shinsou: Midoriya?
Shinsou: Almost all of them are gone, and they’re saying there’s a villain attack on campus.
Shinsou: It’s just a drill, right? 
Shinsou: Right?
Shinsou: Shit, Lunch Rush is taking us all to the cafeteria, something about safety measures. This isn’t a drill is it.
Shinsou: Wait, where’s your class?
Shinsou: Wait, you’re not being attacked, right? 
Shinsou: Right?
Shinsou: Midoriya?!

A few minutes pass before the next message.

Shinsou: Hey, hey, this isn’t funny. You’re okay, right? The heroes got to you in time? Please answer me when you’re safe. 
Shinsou: They said only one of you got injured, it wasn’t you, right? 
Shinsou: Dude, answer me!

After that, it’s message after message, each one just as panicked as the last. Izuku reads them all, tensing further after each one. By the time he’s reached the end, his jaw is aching from how hard his teeth are clenched. He reads the last message a few times, looking away when the words have been seared into the back of his eyelids.

Shinsou: Please tell me when you’re up. You will wake up... right?

Man, why does he feel so guilty? He usually doesn’t care what others think, but this time it feels like he did something wrong. Is it because he’s facing concern instead of anger? No, he didn’t care much when Aunty tried to call him every day while he was taking part in the Gladiator Event. 

Weird. Maybe it’s just part of him healing, of him getting better. Yeah, that must be it. 

Midoriya: Sorry, I’m up. I’m fine, just some minor injuries and quirk exhaustion. 

It might be a little bit of a lie, but he doesn’t feel like making Shinsou’s fears any worse. 

Just like with Ochaco, the message is read in a matter of seconds, those familiar bubbles popping up on the screen for another few seconds before a message pops up instead. 

Shinsou: Oh, okay. 
Shinsou: Good. 
Shinsou: Don’t do that again.

Izuku smiles, wondering how Shinsou expects him to do that. 

Midoriya: I’ll try. 

It’s a lie, and not a very good one. Anyone who truly knows him knows he won’t be keeping that promise any time soon. He’ll die if need be. He’s not going to avoid that fate, not going to risk others’ lives just so he can live. If he needs to step in, he will, no matter what that means.

It’s a little surprising, realizing just how far he’d go to help others. But then again, it’s not really all that far is it. He’s died many many times, all sorts of deaths. Dying a few more times isn’t going all that far. It’s normal to use your quirk as far is it will go, right?

He remembers what Kacchan said. It’s rude to die when others try to keep him alive. Well, he’ll just have to keep them from trying to save him, won’t he. 

Then again, it’s not like he’ll be in many fights like this. It was a one time fluke, one the school will most likely fix before classes start again. He’s no hero, so there’s no point in doing this. 

Maybe he will avoid stressing others out, even if he’s not doing it directly. He’ll probably die again, but there’s no point in making others worry about it. 

Yeah, that’s what he’ll do. Become someone others don’t worry about. Yeah, that would be a good goal. 

Hopefully, life lets him keep it.

Chapter Text

Izuku wakes up in his old locker room, staring at the rusty bench and stained floor, wondering how he got here. Maybe he’s visiting the area? No, no, that’s not it. He just finished up a match, won it actually. He’s been doing a lot of that lately. 

“You didn’t dodge that swipe.” He jerks, looking towards the entrance where Shigaraki is standing, expression covered by the hand on his face. 

“I saw an opening. And, I mean, it worked, so it wasn’t like it cost me the match. It was a small price to pay. Nothing serious, just a little scratch.” A scratch? Oh right. He looks down, glancing at the long slash on his skin. Yes, his opponent had claws and he made an opening by not dodging. Not that unusual.

“There’s a literal pool of blood on the floor right now. How is that not serious? With that much blood loss, you’ll probably pass out in a few minutes. What if you had a fight right after?” Izuku blinks, wondering where all this is coming from.

“Well, I didn’t. And I can lose more blood that this. I’m weird like that.” He’s not lying. Blood loss has never really been an issue for him. For some reason...

“...You’re fucking weird. Will you at least cover it? It’s gross to look at.” That makes him pause, eyes glancing at the cut for a second time. It is rather big, now that he thinks about it, and not exactly pretty to look at. Whatever, might as well deal with it now. 

It only takes a few minutes, side patched up and clean with little effort on his part. Once he’s finished putting away the first aid kit, he walks over to a locker with a towel, grabs some boxers, and strips off the ones covered in blood. He hears a choking sound behind him, but doesn’t bother turning around, forcing himself not to smile even though it’s quite funny.

What? It’s not like he’s in a public locker room or something. This is his private dressing room!

When the remaining blood is gone and his new boxers are on, and he finishes by throwing on a dirty t-shirt before turning around. Shigaraki is still there, pointedly not looking at him. He seems to be staring at the bloody puddle on the floor, though Izuku’s not sure why. Who knows, maybe he’s curious.

“They’re used to cleaning up blood. It’s not an issue.” Shigaraki jerks, looking back up at him with tension in his shoulders.

“Why aren’t you wearing pants?” He sounds borderline angry, almost like Kacchan.

“I’ll put some on when I leave. I still have half an hour to stretch.” And he does. He often stays in this room until he absolutely has to leave. 

“Fucking weird.” Shigaraki grumbles the words under his breath before walking towards the far end of the bench and sitting down with a huff, far away from any blood. Almost the second he sits down, hands reach up to scratch at his neck in an action that explains all the scars and rough skin Izuku saw.

Interesting. A side effect of his quirk, maybe?

“Don't like it, you can leave old man. It's not like I barged into your room without permission.” Shigaraki doesn’t say anything, pulling out a small gaming device Izuku kind of recognizes but can’t remember the name of. It’s made by Nintendo if his memory is correct, but that’s all he’s got. Either way, it’s none of his business, so he goes back to stretching and almost sighs in relief when the wound doesn’t protest the movement.

A good ten minutes pass when he’s shocked out of his calm headspace by the sound of angry cursing. He looks up from where he’s balanced in a handstand, blinking as Shigaraki cusses out whatever game he was playing. He continues to watch from his less than ideal vantage point as the villain drops the device and grabs the bench.

The second all five fingers touch the metal, a small portion of metal turns to dust and Shigaraki jumps up and starts cursing for a whole different reason.

“FUCKING FUCK ASS QUIRK FOR FUCKS SAKE! EVERY FUCKING TIME, THIS PIECE OF SHIT QUIRK STUPID HANDS GOD DAMNIT-“ Izuku listens, using this as an opportunity to practice his blank face. If he’s being honest, this whole outburst is actually fairly interesting. It’s a very human reaction, if not a bit extreme.

But then the shouting cuts off, replaced by shaky breathing as Shigaraki clenches his fists and looks up at the ceiling. Izuku can see his face a little better at this angle, see the way he looks like he’s about to cry from frustration.

After a few more seconds of silence, he finally calls it quits and tilts backwards until he’s landing on his feet in a smooth motion. Shigaraki jolts, like he forgot that Izuku was there. At this point, it wouldn’t be all that surprising if that were true.

“Don’t stress old man. I needed a new one anyway.”

That’s all he says, and for some reason, that seems to be enough. The tension in Shigaraki’s shoulders lessens, and his body slumps ever so slightly, like a pressure falls off his back. It’s not what Izuku expected, not at all. He expected more guarded looks and tense stances, but whatever he said must have struck a chord.

For some reason.

“fucking weird.“ And that’s that. Shigaraki grabs his gaming thing and walks towards the door, hand reaching for the handle but pausing before it touches the cold metal. There’s silence for a second as Izuku waits, eyes tracking the way that hand twitches in place. Finally, Shigaraki twists his neck to almost look towards where Izuku is standing.

“I’m fucking seventeen kid. Stop calling me old man.” Ahh, makes sense. 

The door shuts quietly, leaving Izuku standing in the locker room with a towel in his hand. Interesting. 

You know what? Maybe this new addition isn’t all that bad.

Hopefully, it doesn’t end badly.

(Shit, did he just jinx it?)

Shigaraki doesn't return for two weeks, and for a moment, Izuku wonders if he's going to come back at all. The fact that he may no longer be forced to deal with an unstable teenager sounds wonderful, but honestly, it was obviously too good to be true.

“Kaho.” Izuku jerks, spinning around from where he's putting away his suit. There, standing near the entrance, stands Kousei, looking down at him with that fake smile that never fails to ring warning bells in Izuku’s mind.

“Sir?” Kousei’s smile stretches a little further, but doesn't come across as any less creepy.

“Wear something nicer tomorrow, okay? I have some friends I’d like to introduce you to.” Oh, okay, that’s something he can do. 

"Yes sir."

“Wonderful, that looks perfect.” Izuku pauses, blinking up at his benefactor before glancing down at his clothes. The clothes he bought last night because he didn’t have anything nice in his closet that let him move freely. Knowing Kousei, he’ll probably have to showcase his skills in some ways, so stretchy clothes it is. 

“Thank you, sir.” He doesn’t speak after that, following Kousei up to the top floor before walking into an unfamiliar room. There, waiting for them behind the closed door, is a group of three individuals, one of whom he recognizes the second steps inside. 

One is a man seemingly made of mist, wearing a fancy suit, standing next to the couch opposite where Kousei guides him. The second is a man in a lab coat, sitting on the couch with strange goggle glasses on his face. He looks... creepy. Izuku wouldn’t want him as a doctor, not in a million years.

And the third is, of course, Shigaraki Tomura. Shigaraki looks bored until he sees Izuku, something about his posture shifting to look more excited than annoyed. That’s... not a good sign. The attention of a villain is never a good thing. It really isn’t.

“Doctor! Shigaraki! Let me introduce you to my favorite fighter.” As expected, he’s being paraded around like some sort of prize trophy. Kind of strange since he’s so new to all this, but as he said, not unexpected. 

The one who must be the doctor shifts, smiling a little in a way that only makes him appear twice as creepy as he already did.

“Ahh, so this is the famous Kaho I keep hearing about. It’s a pleasure to meet you!” Izuku really doesn’t want to shake the man’s hand, but he doesn’t really have a choice, so he pushes down the emotions pooling in his chest and shakes the man’s hand. He can’t bring himself to speak though, so he simply bows ever so slightly and sits on the lone stool off to the side.

Shigaraki is still staring at him, looking far too excited for a person with no visible expression.

“Wonderful, wonderful. While Kaho isn’t my most experienced fighter, he’ll still be able to showcase everything you need to know. Kaho, how about you go through that drill you showed me last week?” Another expectation fulfilled. Good thing he got the right clothing. Still, he doesn’t really want to be showcased like this... 

But again, he has no choice in the matter, so he stands up and moves to an empty area of the room and does as told. The patterns are familiar, while still being somewhat strenuous. It’s not an easy drill, but he can do it without thinking about it all that hard. It takes a good three minutes to finish, though he could go for longer if necessary.

Thankfully, that doesn’t seem to be required. The second he stops and takes a step back, Kousei and the Doctor start clapping with wide smiles. It’s creepy, but he doesn’t say anything, bowing slightly before moving to go back to his stool.

He doesn’t get even two steps before that option is taken from him.

It happens quickly, almost too quickly. One second, he’s standing a over six feet away from Shigaraki and the Doctor. The next, there’s a hand inches away from his face, reaching out with four fingers. Izuku reacts instinctually, dodging the attack and lashing out himself.

It happens in under a second, his talons slashing empty air, eyes looking up at where Shigaraki is now standing a good three feet away. He’s smiling beneath that damn hand, looking at Izuku with excitement in his gaze. Everyone goes silent for a second, staring at them as they stare at eachother.

“You’re fast.” Izuku pauses, blinking a few times as he struggles to keep his expression blank. Oh, it was a test.

“Not fast enough.” Shigaraki just smiles wider, like Izuku passed another test. This is a... very strange situation.

He stays on guard, settled into a familiar stance, waiting for something to happen. Instead of attacking again, Shigaraki just huffs out a laugh and walks back towards the couch with his hands in his pockets.

“You can leave now kid. We’ve seen everything we needed to see.” Izuku blinks again, looking at Kousei who is looking a little worse for wear. 

He’s pale, fearful, tense, but all he does is nod in Izuku’s direction and motion for him to leave. He obeys, bowing one last time before walking out of the room and nearly collapsing outside the door.

His heart is hammering in his chest, body itching to fight fight fight. There’s nothing to fight though, not unless he were to add himself to the roster for today.

...

Yea maybe he’ll do that.

It takes a minute to slip in his ticket, and there are only three fights open today, but he takes all three and gets ready despite that. Slipping into his fight suit is easy, and slipping into the ring even more so, his skin itching, his mind buzzing, anger bubbling up under the surface as he tries so very hard to ignore everything.

This always happens when something scares him. He always snaps, mind reminding him of all he’s lost and who took it from him. There’s hatred beneath the surface of his soul, hatred that won’t be going away any time soon, if ever. There’s hatred and anger and fear and grief that digs so deep in his chest he’ll never get it all out.

So, he fights. He steps into the ring, and people cheer and bet and call his name. They’re here to watch him, here to watch as his anger takes over. He waits, waits until the commentator screams fight, then he attacks.

His first opponent doesn’t stand a chance. They’re big and cocky and don’t expect him to punch very hard. They were wrong, on the floor in seconds, hands wrapped around their throat as they struggle to breathe. Izuku doesn’t feel sorry, doesn’t feel anything but anger as he watches yet another opponent fail to last even seconds against him.

The second fight lasts longer. He ends up biting down on their arm, a pained cry escaping their lips as he uses the momentary distraction to knock them out. They crumple to the floor, and Izuku pants. He pants, blood dripping from his fangs, iron on his tongue.

The third fight takes the longest. An experienced fighter who doesn’t underestimate him. They’re careful with their attacks, but Izuku doesn’t care about getting hurt. He goes in and fights and does everything he can to catch them off guard until it finally works. He pins them this time, pins them and waits until they’re tapping out.

Round two takes even longer, but Izuku still wins. He plans on letting his opponent tap out one last time, but they try to knock him out and he’s forced to return the favor.

Three rounds, he wins.

It’s no surprise.

He doesn’t run into Kousei again, packing up and going home with the itch somewhat subdued. The urge to fight is still there, still bubbling under the surface, but it’s small enough to ignore.

The third time Izuku meets Shigaraki Tomura, he leaves with anger in his chest and an itch at the back of his neck.

He knows it won't be the last time.

Two weeks later, Izuku walks into his locker room and immediate halts, looking at a familiar figure sitting on his bench, gaming on that same familiar device. The hand on his face has been put to the side, sitting on the bench next to black notebook with a pencil on top. It's the first time Shigaraki is in his locker before him. What changed?

"Is there a reason you keep breaking into my locker room or are you just bored?" Shigaraki chuckles before reaching into a pocket and pulling out a familiar object.

"It's not breaking in when I was given a key." So that's how it is. Izuku guessed right then, Kousei gave him a key.

"Okay, is there a reason you keep bothering me while I'm recovering from my matches?"  Shigaraki places the key back in his pocket, still staring at his game as he talks. 

"You're strange."

...

"What's that supposed to mean?" And he's still staring at his game.

"You don't act the way you're supposed to. You're not like those other npc's. You might even be a player with the way you fight." Okay, gaming terms. Not any weirder than usual. "You're the only playable character I've met outside of Sensei's arsenal. That makes you worthy of my curiosity."

Okay, this dude is definitely not all there mentally. 

"Uh... thanks?" Shigaraki smiles again, still staring at his stupid game. 

"You're welcome. Now, tell me, what do you think of heroes?" Finally, finally, he looks away from his game, but the question makes Izuku pause. It's sudden, and not something most people just come out and say. They'll ask about a specific hero or if you want to be one, but not on your opinion on heroes as a whole. 

This is another test, maybe. 

Hopefully he doesn't mess up. 

“Heroes are like people. There are good and bad and in between, but as a whole, they do nothing more than support the corrupt system that gave them their power. Most of them are drunk on that power, addicted to the fact that they’re almost untouchable. They ruin lives just as often as villains do, maybe more often.

Heroes are just as violent as villains, and the only difference is that those in power decided what’s good and what’s bad based on arbitrary rules that they bend whenever it doesn’t suit their narrative. Heroes are just devices to repress violence deemed villainous by the true villains who sit in their high towers and hoard their gold and power. Violence only breeds violence, and that’s something that should be obvious to anyone who cares to look. Heroes, on an individual level, are like humans. But as a whole?

They are the reason our society kills those deemed lesser than them.”

...

Shigaraki is looking at him now, eyes wide with surprise, hands gripping his device. They stare at each other in silence for a minute, the sound of the game suddenly seeming far louder than it did five seconds ago. Then, Shigaraki’s expression turns pleased, and Izuku lets himself relax.

He passed another test.

“That’s one way to look at it.” So he doesn’t entirely agree. That’s fine, Izuku doesn’t care. He doesn’t really care about any of this, if he’s being honest. He wouldn’t give a single damn if Shigaraki up and disappeared tomorrow. As a matter of fact, he might even prefer it.

“And what do you think of All Might?” Izuku pauses from where he’s patching up a small cut on his cheek, taking in the sudden hostility in Shigaraki’s tone of voice. Okay, he hates All Might, that’s nothing new. The question would be why, but again, Izuku doesn’t care enough to ask.

“He’s a hypocrite.” He gets a look of curiosity at that, the hostility momentarily absent. It’s still underneath, though. Izuku can sense it.

“A hypocrite? How is he a... hypocrite?” Okay, they don’t like the dude for different reasons. Not unusual.

“He preaches about how everyone can be a hero, but pushes for an increase in limelight heroes. Regular people are better suited for underground heroics, and he’s never once even mentioned them as a group. Underground heroes are the only ones trying to keep the world running, and they get shit pay and shittier assistance because of the sudden focus on limelight heroes.

He talks about peace, about the decrease in villain attacks, but he ignores the fact that small crime has skyrocketed in the last five years alone. Sure major villain attacks are down, but criminals are getting bolder because there’s not enough underground heroes to stop them.

He tells everyone that all people are equal, but completely ignores the rapidly growing discrimination statistics, especially in Japan. Suicide rates have skyrocketed in the last ten years, and they’re only getting worse.

He’s a hypocrite. He talks big doesn't back it up. He ignores everything wrong with society, doesn’t call for change, doesn’t point out things that should be pointed out. He acts all high and mighty, but really he’s just a person with ridiculous strength and a large platform he doesn’t seem to know what to do with.

He’s created a false sense of safety, of peace. People ignore those in need because of him. People expect heroes to be perfect because of him. People worship powerful quirks because of him. Unless, of course, it isn’t ‘heroic’, which is bullshit.

All Might is a good fighter, but he isn’t a good hero.

He’s a hypocrite, and he’s going to get people killed with his speeches.”

...

That was a bit much.

The cut has been patched up, and now he’s standing in the middle of the room in his boxers, shoving the med kit in a locker.

Shigaraki is still looking at him, this time more shocked than surprised. He looks like he’s remembering something, something he doesn’t want to remember. Izuku thinks about what he said, and settles on the realization that Shigaraki is one of the people who All Might almost killed.

Or at the very least traumatized.

“What are your thoughts on All Might?” Shigaraki jerks, blinking a few times, his mouth opening and closing as he visibly thinks. Izuku waits patiently, listening close so he doesn’t miss anything. Eventually, Shigaraki shakes his head and looks back down at his game before speaking.

“He pisses me off and I want to destroy him.” Izuku pauses for what feels like the thousandth time, items shoved in a locker and door closing behind him. That’s... an interesting statement. Most villains have specific reasons for hating heroes, not just because the heroes piss them off.

“Why does he piss you off?” Part of him wonders why he’s even asking. It’s not like he actually cares about what anyone thinks, including sketchy villains who break into his locker room and play games.

“That’s none of your fucking business.” Okay, that’s good enough for him. Sure he’s curious, but like hell is he going to push that button any harder. So, Izuku shrugs and starts stretching, going through the motions and ignoring all the bruises that scream at him to stop.

Time seems to skip a few minutes, his legs open in a stretch that should be near the end of his circuit when Shigaraki grumbles something under his breath and stands up, shoving the device into his hoodie and walking towards the door. Izuku watches him go, still stretched out on the floor, leg muscles complaining over the treatment.

Shigaraki doesn’t stop this time, grabbing the handle with four fingers and stepping out without a word. The second the door closes, Izuku can’t help but relax, shaking the annoying tension off his shoulders. No matter how little he cares about dying, he can’t seem to get rid of that fear when facing something that could lead to said death.

Whatever. He blames it on adrenaline.

This time, when Izuku wakes up, it’s to soft sheets and a familiar bed, the aches from yesterday almost completely gone as he lets himself wake up slowly. The dreams don’t fade this time, memories staying fresh in his mind to the point that he’s forced to double check that he was not in fact awake. No, he’s awake now, which means he was asleep and just thought he was awake. 

Which is completely normal. Probably. 

Either way, he’s awake now, so he should probably get up, get some stuff done, spend time with his family. You know, stuff a normal person would do. Not that he’s normal by any standards. No, normal people don’t purposefully find ways to die or fight or take part any of the many activities he’s done in the last five years of his life. 

It’s fine though, he can act normal for their sake. He can pretend to be anything but the walking disaster he has become, even if only for a little while.

So, after much internal complaining, he forces his eyes open and starts the process of truly waking up. His inner eyelid gently slides across his eye, bringing back some much needed moisture before his more human appearing eyelids close above it, blinking away the last remnants of pain in his head. 

The action brings back a memory, of Shigaraki looking at him with a dangerous intrigue after learning that Izuku has more bird traits than just the surface level mutations. He shakes his head, removing that image and focusing on blinking a few more times to shove it out of his mind.

Now that he can see better, he pushes himself up, stretching out his wings with a yawn before stumbling out of bed and towards the door. The hallway is empty when he steps out, which is rather normal for this house, and probably for most houses. Most people don’t just stand in the hallway, right?

Whatever, not the time to think about pointless things. Instead, he walks to the bathroom and blinks at the mirror until he has the energy to step into the shower. He didn’t take one last night, which means he needs to take one this morning. There’s still sticker residue from the sensors the hospital stuck to his skin, and it’s coated in fabric fibers in a way that makes the patches itch. 

Washing away the icky feeling of glue on his skin is a relief, though it’s quickly replaced by the icky feeling of water on his feathers. He’s no duck, so his wings are not waterproof in any way, soaking up the liquid no matter how little touches the plumes. 

The second he steps out of the shower, he’s heating up the feathers until steam starts rising from his body like a sauna. He leaves the bathroom felling far better than when he walked in, skin warm and feathers fluffy and body loose from the steady warmth that fills his lungs. 

It doesn’t take much effort to ignore all the negatives, the steady ache in his head, the strange pressure on his chest. It’s all far too small to be worthy of thought, so he focuses on getting dressed and making his way downstairs. 

When he finally steps into the living room, the first thing he notices is that one car is missing from the driveway, which isn’t particularly surprising. Masaru is smiling at him from the kitchen, which means Aunty is gone, probably working with a client she couldn’t afford to cancel. Izuku doesn’t really care, but he knows Kacchan probably does. 

Not much, but enough that it’s been a source of tension in their lives. Kacchan is always a little more quiet on the days she leaves despite negative circumstances, but it’s not a particularly big deal. Though it must be a very important client, because she probably would have canceled anything less in a heartbeat with the magnitude of what happened two days ago. 

Either way, she’s not here, and Izuku doesn’t really care. Kacchan is sitting on the couch watching an old tv show, so he might as well eat breakfast and join him. 

The morning passes slowly, and no matter how bad he wants to focus on the good things, his mind keeps getting dragged back towards Shigaraki and the strange relationship they had. Very, very strange. They would never truly argue, because Izuku wasn’t stupid enough to push that far, but they did have quite a few debates on heroes and villains. 

He remembers talking about all the things he hates, all the things he wanted to burn to the ground. He remembers it all like it was yesterday, which is strange because it’s been years since those conversations started. It’s been months since he saw any of his old friends, since he went out and flew to the places he used to love. 

Strange, how fast he seemed to forget them. It was probably a way to cope, a way to move on from what his life once was. Forget it all and go on to the next thing, a tactic he used far too often. Honestly, he’s surprised he still remembers everything he suppressed, everything he ignored. 

After what feels like the hundredth time of him dragging his attention back to the present, he gives up, standing up from where he was sitting on the couch pretending to watch the tv before nodding towards Kacchan and Masaru and walking away. He goes to his room, sits in front of his desk, and stares at an open notebook, ready to write notes on anything that might be important. 

These memories, no matter how annoying, might be helpful. If he can remember enough about Shigaraki, if he can find something that could help take the villain down... He kind of hates the fact that he’d be working with heroes again, but it’s better than letting a maniac run the streets. 

That train of thought cuts off as soon as it pops up though, mind screeching to a halt, pencil jerking on the page at the same time. 

Is it though? Is it really better? Everything Shigaraki said, all those speeches and all the conversations in his mind, is it really that bad? Yes, yes it is, Shigaraki attacked students. If he had targeted All Might and All Might alone, Izuku might not have cared quite as much, but he involved teenagers. 

He involved Kacchan.

Yes, no matter how far Izuku’s hatred for heroes goes, it doesn’t leave room for something like that. 

He erases the stray mark left by his pencil, continuing his notes with renewed vigor. Yes, Shigaraki needs to be taken down before he becomes far bigger of a problem than he already is. There’s no guarantee that he’ll leave Izuku’s class alone, so Izuku needs to make sure it never happens again. 

He writes everything down, from how Shigaraki complained about the way not enough fast food chains have strawberry milkshakes to the way he talked about heroes like they were a plague on society. Even if it was something stupid, he writes it down, grasping at straws, looking for a needle in a haystack. 

By the time the sun has set, he has a good three pages of notes, font small and squished together, hand aching as he flips the book closed and walks downstairs for dinner. Aunty is back, looking at Kacchan with an edge of sadness in her gaze as his brother refuses to look at her. 

Dinner is good, despite the tension in the air, but Izuku is tired. He eats with them, cleans up the table with them, but he turns down the offer of a movie because all it will do is bring even more memories to the surface and he doesn’t feel like doing that right now. 

Instead, he sits on his bed and stares at the wall, trying to quiet his mind. Just enough to let him sleep, just enough to stop the images from popping up in his head. He’ll probably dream again, and he knows that, but he might as well try to empty his mind before laying down. 

It doesn’t work. The clock flashes ten in front of him as he finally gives up and lays down, exhaustion pulling at his limbs until he’s closing his eyes and taking one last deep breath. 

Yes, he’ll probably dream, but he can deal with the consequences of that in the morning.

Chapter Text

The first thing Izuku notices is the feeling of wind hitting his skin as he flies through the air, warm and comfortable and exactly what he needs. It’s been three weeks since he last saw Shigaraki, and longer since the last time he died. The combination isn’t treating him well, which is nothing new.

The longer he goes without dying, the worse he gets. Kousei says he’ll be moving to the next level soon, so that might help, but in the meantime he needs to find a different way to release this stress. Which obviously means he’s been sneaking out almost every other night for the past two weeks alone.

And usually, he simply flies, just like he’s doing right now. Soaring through the air, trying to forget his troubles, pushing himself faster and faster until his wings ache and his shoulders want a lawyer. Then, he lands somewhere and rests, breathing in the night air as he waits.

This time, he goes to a familiar rooftop, the one where he met Hachiro. He hasn’t seen his friend in a few weeks, but he’s not worried.

Hachiro can take care of himself.

The warm air still brushes against his skin despite his stillness, eyes closed, legs dangling over the edge. He could die if he fell from this height. Not that it would stick.

There’s not many cars on the road at the moment, but the buzz of ac units fills the air in replacement. It’s actually kind of soothing, the steady noise echoing through his head as he closes his eyes and lets his body relax. The alley below is empty, void of life.

Or at least, it was.

Izuku jerks when he hears the sound of rushed footsteps, looking down where a young man is running into the alley with singed clothes and fear written all over his face. He seems panicked, glancing behind himself every few seconds until he rounds the corner and comes sliding to a stop.

“Fuck, dead end. Shit...” Izuku watches close as whoever it is spins around, staring behind himself with fear in his eyes. Izuku continues to watch until another figure comes running into the alley.

A hero, to be exact.

“Caught you, you little shit.” The hero looks... not like a hero. He looks like a tiger ready to pounce. The person running on the other hand, looks like shit. He’s panting and shaking and acting like he wants to be anywhere but here. He looks scared.

“I didn’t fucking do anything. Leave me alone.” The hero’s lips stretch into a smile, and and not a pleasant one.

“Well, you did something, because you’ve got a pretty little price on your head. Don’t make this harder than it has to be, just give up and let me take you in. I’m sure the Commission will be nice about it.” Ahh, a commission bounty hunter. Izuku’s heard of them before.

What a disgusting organization.

“Well, how about you leave and I won’t kill you?” Izuku blinks, wondering if he heard that right. Is he bluffing? He seems awful scared for someone with the capabilities to kill a hero. Granted, it is someone with a bounty on their head. That bounty is there for a reason.

“HA! Just try to you little freak.” God, Izuku hates heroes like that. Honestly, if he dies, good riddance. Yea, he’s definitely rooting for the wild card in this round.

The wildcard who looks like he wants to be anywhere but here. Only, he seems to know that there’s no way out, because he’s suddenly shifting into a solid stance that speaks of experience, which is interesting. He still looks scared, but Izuku’s starting to wonder if he’s scared of being captured or scared of something else entirely.

For a solid thirty seconds, silence rings through the alley and surrounding area. It’s back to the sound of ac units buzzing in the background as Izuku waits for the first strike. They’re both waiting, and the hero is being far more cautious than Izuku thought he would be. He seemed awful cocky five seconds ago, but it must have been an act because he looks just as guarded as the wild card.

The timer ticks, the silence stretches, and then finally, the hero moves.

Unfortunately for him, he doesn’t move very far.

In seconds, the alley is full of bright blue flames, scorching everything it touches. The hero screams, but not for long, cut off by fire so hot it turns concrete black.

Izuku watches, eyes wide as the fire fades. The what’s left of the hero is laying on the floor, body charred and black just like its surroundings, the smell of burnt skin wafting through the air. It was gruesome, but Izuku will admit, very effective. And that fire, god that fire would have felt amazing on his skin.

He should probably leave now. Ignore the fact that he saw a murder and act like it never happened.

But... he really wants to feel that fire.

...

Well, it’s not like it’ll kill him.

Izuku takes a deep breath, nose wrinkling at the scent below, but that doesn’t change his decision. He just shakes his head and slips off the edge of the building, wings catching him as he slowly and carefully lowers himself to the floor, landing without a sound.

The wildcard doesn’t notice him, but Izuku can see him better now. He’s hissing and pressing a hand against burnt skin, body still shaking as though in pain. So that’s why he was scared. His quirk isn’t compatible with his body. That’s... rare.

Izuku’s never met someone with an issue like that. Sure he’s heard of it, but never seen it. And looking at those scars, he probably had a pretty shitty quirk accident for them to be that uniform.

“You’ll need some burn cream for that.”

“SHit!” The stranger spins around, a wave of fire bursting from his arm, washing over Izuku with a delicious heat. He breathes it in, letting his eyes slip closed as it sinks into his skin. It feels heavenly, but dissipates quickly, leaving him standing there with slightly burned clothing.

Okay, that wave wasn’t as hot as what hit the hero. Probably good because he didn’t actually think about the consequences of flying home with no clothes on. That would have been annoying.

“What the fuck!?” Oh right, stranger.

“That was rude.” Izuku brushes off the remaining flames that latched onto his clothes, ignoring the holes in the fabric as he works. When he’s finally done getting rid of the fire hazard, he looks up, taking in the way the wild card is staring at him in shock. Oh, right, most people can’t be lit on fire with no side effects.

“You good?” The words don’t get through to them, eyes wide and mouth hanging open as Izuku waits for some sort of response. When nothing comes, he gives up and takes a few steps forwards. His attempt works, the wild card jerking back, their mouth shutting and shoulders going tense as they stare at Izuku with a guarded expression.

“Stay back.” Izuku complies, halting in place, staying as relaxed as possible and ignoring the feeling of air hitting his skin through the annoying holes in his clothing. It stinks. He kind of liked this shirt.

“I know where to get quirk enhanced medication. I’m sure they have burn cream that could help with all that.” And it’s not particularly difficult to get it thanks to his ‘job’. Kousei sometimes acts like an idiot, but he does have some damn good connections.

Of course, this stranger doesn’t know that, so all he gets is a change from shock to confusion. He’s still on guard, still staring at Izuku like he’s crazy, but he looks more bewildered than anything now.

“Why the hell would you offer me medication kid? I just tried to kill you.” It’s an honest question, one Izuku doesn’t really want to answer because he doesn’t really know how to do so. He just does things sometimes for no reason other than he wants to. That’s the only reason he accepted Kousei’s offer in the first place.

“Well, I have it, you need it, I’m bored, and you’re interesting.” That only makes the confusion grow, their eyes scanning Izuku’s body as though looking for something.

“Why didn’t my flames hurt you?” Ahh, that makes sense. It isn’t every day someone can walk out of fire that hot without a single burn. Especially when the user themselves is injured by their own flames.

“Just my quirk.” What? Almost no one knows about his power, and he’s not planning on spilling his guts to a stranger. Even if said stranger is this interesting.

Of course, his response isn’t even slightly satisfactory to said stranger. The confusion shifts to the side, replaced by an annoyed glare. He doesn’t look angry per se, just, unimpressed. Izuku feels the urge to chuckle bubble up in his chest, but he pushes it down, trying his best to stay neutral and succeeding without too much effort.

“No shit.” He even sounds unimpressed, like he just heard the most stupid statement of the evening. And, well, he isn’t entirely incorrect.

“Whatever. Why are you even out this late, kid?” He seems to relax some, like he’s decided Izuku isn’t a threat, something that would usually offend him. Right now though, he doesn’t particularly care. It’s not like they’re about to fight or something. Hopefully.

“To fly.” Izuku spreads out his wings, shaking them slightly before letting them relax. The stranger watches the movement closely, as though looking for some sort of sign that Izuku is about to attack. When he doesn’t, something shifts, the tension in the air releasing ever so slightly.

“Let me guess, bad home life?” It’s obvious that he’s fishing for information, that he isn’t actually concerned. Izuku just shrugs, giving the stranger absolutely nothing. The hint of frustration on their face is like candy, each reaction a sweet treat slowly chipping away at the itch under his skin.

This is a good break from his usual flow, exciting enough to keep him entertained and interesting enough to keep him engaged. He could do this all night, watch the expressions cycle through this stranger’s face until the interaction ends.

Just when he thinks that, said stranger jolts, looking behind himself before looking back at Izuku with shock once again written all over his face.

“Kid, I just fucking killed someone. Why the fuck are you acting so calm?” This time, he actually does sound concerned. And, well, that’s understandable. Most people aren’t this chill about murder, especially not kids. And, while he is tall for his age, Izuku is still a child. He’s a strangely strong, strangely tall, twelve-year-old child.

And he just saw someone burn to death in the middle of an alley. Yeah, concern is understandable.

“It was self defense. And it was none of my business.” Wild card freezes in place, expression flooding with confusion and shock and concern and a multitude of expressions Izuku doesn’t really care to decipher.

“None of your business??? You just witnessed a murder! You’re legally obligated to report any homicides you see to the police. You should be pulling out a phone right now! Wait, did you? Are you just stalling me?” Izuku blinks, taking in the sudden panic on Wild Card’s shoulders.

He really needs to get this dude’s name.

“Nope. I don’t care. Wanna check my call history?” Wild card makes a choking sound, head tilting to the side, eyes still full of those emotions Izuku doesn’t care about.

“What the fuck kid??? God, this is weird. No, I don’t need to check your call history, just... damnit, what’s your name?” He sounds like a concerned dad. Maybe he has siblings.

“You can call me Kaho. You?” Wild card pauses, expression turning troubled, like he’s debating something. He opens and closes his mouth a few times, as though second guessing himself before finally choosing an option and spitting it out.

“Dabi. You can call me Dabi. Now, you need to go home. It’s past your bedtime kid.” Izuku doesn’t move, blinking a few times as Wild ca- uh, Dabi, stares at him with a completely fed up expression. He looks extremely confused, like Izuku’s very existence is giving him an existential crisis.

“Do you want that burn cream?” Dabi groans, head tilting back and eyes closing as he continues to rub at a smoking section of his arm. It looks painful. Very painful. He must have been dealing with this for quite a while to be this used to that kind of pain. A pain Izuku has never experienced, and probably never will.

“You know what, sure, I’ll take some of your fancy burn cream. Just go home for fuck’s sake.” For the first time all night, Izuku lets his emotions push to the surface, mouth pulling into a wide smile as he skips forwards and hands Dabi a slip of paper.

“Sweet! Here you go, and see you later!” He doesn’t wait for a response before taking off, wings sending a gust of air through the alley as he soars into the night sky. The last glimpse he sees of the stranger is white hair billowing in the wind before he’s gone from view, hidden in the alley of a familiar building.

One twenty three Hikatu Street, one thirty am, next Friday. A safe house Kousei gave him as a gift for his first big win. It’ll be silent and out of the way, and shouldn’t be that hard to access. Hopefully, Dabi will be there.

For now, he’ll just fly home and land in front of his locker after yet another fight a week later. Wait, locker?

“What’s got your panties in a twist?” Izuku jerks, turning around to stare at Shigaraki for the first time in a solid month. He knows he must be glaring, but he doesn’t really care right now. It’s Friday and he has plans after this and for fuck’s sake he just wants to go home and eat some Taiyaki before going to meet Dabi for the second time ever and he really doesn’t want to deal with Shigaraki right now.

“I want to be dead, and no one’s killing me. That’s what’s got my panties in a twist. Now dust my head off or leave me alone you sandpaper reject.” His words are unnecessarily sharp and overly sassy and really he hopes it pushes enough buttons to get himself killed. It’s been almost two months since he last died and he isn’t going up a level in the rink until next week.

The itch underneath his skin is so intense he might actually start chewing on his arm if he doesn’t die anytime soon.

Unfortunately, his words seem to make Shigaraki more unimpressed than anything. Not a hint of anger to be found. He even takes the hand off to show just how unimpressed he is.

“I’m not doing your job for you. If you want to die so bad go jump off a bridge.” Izuku aggressively rips his suit off his legs, shoving it into the locker without bothering to fold the stiff fabric.

“And risk being seen by a bunch of civilians? No thank you. That’d create far too many questions.” Shigaraki blinks, seemingly thinking about it before shrugging and walking to the bench where Izuku is grabbing a wad of bandages to patch up a cut on his upper arm.

“Then slit your wrists like a normal person.” Izuku scoffs, securing the bandage and closing the first aid kit with a bang.

“And be left with massive scars on my arms? That would get just as many questions.” Shigaraki makes a confused sound, pausing with his hand halfway into his hoodie, probably reaching to grab his game.

“It’s not like you’ll need to deal with the scars after you’re dead.”

....

Oh....

Shigaraki doesn’t know about.. that.

Right, it’s never been brought up. Izuku thought Kousei told him or something, and really, even if Kousei didn’t, he’s been dropping a lot of hints all over the place.

Well, immortality quirks are fairly rare so it makes sense that it wouldn’t be the first thing to come to mind when talking to someone about their own death. And there’s no real reason to spill the beans now. Not being able to die is annoying, but he really doesn’t want to know what it feels like to die more than three times in a row. That by itself already felt horrible, and he doesn’t know what Shigaraki would do with the information.

“I don’t wanna risk it. Don’t you remember? I already told you blood loss doesn’t affect me enough.” Shigaraki blinks a few times, but doesn’t look away from his game.

“Overdose?”

“Feels weird.”

“Poison?”

“Hard to find.”

“I don’t know, fucking shoot yourself in the head or something.” Izuku sighs, extending his wings as he settles into a static stretch.

“I think guns are ever harder to find than poison. Dude, I’ve wanted to die for over two years now, you don’t think I’ve thought of all the options? It’s either too hard or won’t stick.” Shigaraki finally looks up from his game, staring at Izuku with a contemplative expression on his face.

“You’re weird.” Izuku quirks an eyebrow at that, stretching out and taking a deep breath.

“I thought we already established that.” This time it’s Shigaraki’s turn to scoff, eyes rolling before he goes back to staring at his game.

“Yea yea hot wings.” Hot wings? That’s kind of random. It’s not like Shigaraki knows about his fire... right?

“Why hot?” Just to make sure, just in case.

“I dunno, they’re red aren’t they? Isn’t that what they call those tiny red cars in America? Hot wings?” Izuku almost laughs at the image, but doesn’t because he actually knows what Shigaraki is referring to.

“You mean hot wheels?” That makes the villain look up from his game for a second, red eyes blinking at a blank wall as Izuku shifts to his third stretch.

“...Oh. Right. Hot wheels.” That makes him want to laugh, but he still shoves it down his throat. “Hot wings still applies though. They’re red. And orange. And whatever those other colors are. Hot wings works.” Hot wings. He has his second ever nickname, and it’s named after a damn toy from America.

“Whatever you say Mr. dusty.” Shigaraki glares at him, but doesn’t lash out, going back to his game without another word.

And, well, that’s how the interaction goes. Izuku stretches and tries his best to ignore the itch under his skin while Shigaraki games. Then, just like every other night, Shigaraki leaves a good ten minutes before Izuku and their interaction ends.

It’s weird, that he’s getting used to this, but there’s not much else he can do.

Either way, it’s Friday, and he has plans.

Yes, plans, right here at the safe house. Wasn’t he just in his locker room? No, he went home and waited for Mitsuki to go to bed before flying here. Yes, that’s what he did. Not sure why he forgot about that for a second.

Izuku shakes his head and flies over to the building opposite his little house, crouching down out of sight.

And then he, well, waits.

Unlike the week before, the night air is cool against his skin, the occasional breeze making him grimace as he tries very hard to not light anything on fire. He hates the cold, hates the way it sticks to his skin like glue and sinks into his bones like it belongs there. It doesn’t, and god he wishes he could muster up some fire to help stave it off.

But that’s not an option.

Maybe if he figured out how to heat up his body without using fire, maybe he could do that, but he doesn’t have that skill quite yet. And he’s not sure how one would acquire that skill in the first place.

Just when that thought enters his head, he catches a hint of movement in the corner of his eye, neck quickly twisting to stare at the corner of a building with sharp eyes until he sees a foot shift from around said corner. He blinks a few times before picking up the bag and taking off from where he was sitting, flying over to the building and hovering in place.

“You planning on joining me?” Dabi jerks, looking up into the sky with a glare.

“Yea, yea you chicken, I was just making sure the coast was clear.” He looks tired, shoulders hunched as he turns away and starts walking towards the building. Izuku waits a few seconds before flying ahead of him, unimpressed by the nickname but not caring enough to gripe about it.

He lands in front of the door, pulling a key out of his coat pocket and sliding it into the lock. Dabi takes a second to catch up, but waits patiently when he does, not making a single noise as Izuku swings the door open and steps inside.

The house is small, but well taken care of. Izuku comes and cleans once a week, just to get away from everything for a little while. It’s his house, his first house, and he isn’t planning on letting it fall into disrepair any time soon.

“Do you want a bite to eat?” Dabi pauses, looking at him with a confused expression before shrugging and following his lead.

“Sure pipsqueak.” Really? What’s with the nicknames?

Izuku doesn’t respond, rolling his eyes before making his way to the kitchen. He isn’t followed, his guest floating through the living room, probably taking in his surroundings. Izuku ignores him, grabbing a water and some crackers before walking back into the living room where Dabi looks like he’s about to sit on the couch.

“Hey, no. You’re not sitting on my couch with those clothes.” Dabi turns to glare at him, but doesn’t sit down, which is good. Izuku likes that couch, and he can see the dirt sticking to Dabi’s clothes.

“Here, take these. I guessed your size, so they might be a bit big, but they should still be comfy. And, you know, clean. Bathroom’s over there. You can take a shower if you want.” Dabi stares at the ball of clothes that Izuku shoved into his hands before shrugging and walking towards the bathroom.

Izuku watches him go, waiting for the door to close before walking down the hallway and into one of two bedrooms. The walls are bare and the floor is mostly empty, but there’s a bed and desk that work perfectly well so he doesn’t really care.

For a few minutes, he just stares at the line of notebooks sitting on the desk, jaw tense as he remembers the way his mom would always encourage him to write down his little notes. It’s been a while since he did anything like that, and he’s not sure if he’ll ever start again. It doesn’t matter though, so he just huffs and walks back into the living room, munching on a couple crackers before putting the plate and water bottle on the ottoman.

He can hear the sound of running water coming from the bathroom, eyes slipping closed as he curls his wings around his chest, trying his best to stay warm. Nothing seems to work though, and he really doesn’t feel like upping the heat at all. Really, he shouldn’t have to. It’s not like it’s actually all that cold outside.

He just prefers the heat, that’s all.

He’s not sure how long he waits, only aware of the fact that the itch under his skin is growing each second he’s forced to sit here and do so. It’s starting to burn, his mind screaming at him as he shudders beneath his wings.

It’s fine. He needs to learn to deal with it. Getting addicted to dying isn’t a good thing. Not in the slightest. Not when he can’t stay dead.

“Your water pressure is pretty good pipsqueak.” He looks up from where he’s bundled up on the couch, watching as Dabi walks out of the bathroom wearing loose clothes and rubbing at his white hair with a towel. He looks far better, no more streaks of grime sitting on his face, no more dried blood sitting on the edge of his burns.

“Glad it was satisfactory. Now, get over here.” Dabi huffs and drops the towel on the chair and a half before walking over to where Izuku is rummaging through his backpack.

“Sit.” That gets him a quirked eyebrow, but he still doesn’t complain, sitting on the couch with a plop. By the time he’s gotten comfortable, Izuku is finished pulling out everything he needs.

“Okay. This is a burn cream, this is a wound adhesive, this is a scar minimizer, and this is a medicated moisturizer. The burn cream and adhesive are quirk enhanced and the scar minimizer is quirk made.” He places them all on the ottoman before pulling out a few bandages and a wound disinfectant.

“That’s... a lot. Where did you get all this?” Izuku shrugs, holding out a hand as he finishes setting up his makeshift workstation.

“Here and there. Arm.” Dabi glares at him, but does place his arm in Izuku’s hand. The scar tissue is rough against his skin, but not bad enough to need anything extreme quite yet. If it had been left alone for a few more years, he’d probably need medical staples or something, but that shouldn’t be necessary if he goes through the proper treatment.

“Okay, here’s how you put them together.” He showcases each step on the arm in his hand, being careful to not pull at the skin as he goes. Dabi doesn’t complain, watching closely as Izuku works.

“That should be everything... If you’re bleeding and the adhesive doesn’t work, slap this on top and it’ll slow the bleeding until you can get proper medical treatment.” That makes Dabi scoff, mouth pulling up into an amused smile as he takes the bandage handed to him.

“Kid, I can’t exactly walk into a hospital and ask for treatment. I’ve killed people, okay?” Izuku looks up from where he’s pulling a notebook out of his bag.

“I mean, yea, but you can still go to an underground clinic for bad stuff. Don’t go if you get a paper cut but if you’re bleeding out, they’ll take you no problem.” Dabi pauses, looking at him with a confused frown.

“An underground clinic? What’s that?” Izuku looks away, writing something down in his notebook before ripping out the page and handing it over.

“Clinics that treat people without questions. Even villains deserve medical care, so someone created the red door clinics. This is the closest one, but they’re everywhere. Been around for many years. Again, don’t go there with something minor, they won’t take you, but don’t try and push through something major when you have other options.”

Dabi stares at the paper in his hand, blinking dumbly as Izuku waits for a response.

“...How have I never heard of these?” He sounds surprised, and confused.

“Did you grow up on the streets?” He looks up at Izuku with that same confusion.

“No.”

“Do you talk to other people who live on the streets?”

“...No”

“There you go.” Dabi huffs out a laugh, leaning back into the couch and blinking up at the ceiling.

“You’re a weird kid.” Izuku shrugs in response, not really caring what others think of him.

“Whatever you say you overcooked chicken nugget.” Instead of getting angry or something, Dabi barks out a laugh before covering his mouth with a hand and chuckling into the burnt skin. Izuku lets himself smile a little, flipping open a blank page in his notebook and starting a new entry.

“Do you want help with the application or do you want to figure it out yourself?” Dabi huffs out a few more laughs before grabbing the disinfectant spray and getting to work.

“You won’t be here every time so I might as well get used to it.” Ah yes, a good policy.

For the next who knows how long, Izuku writes away in his notebook, accompanied by the sound of sharp hisses and deep breaths as Dabi does his best to treat all the hard to reach spots. It takes a while, and he ends up sitting on the floor in only his boxers as Izuku finishes up his entry.

“Damn this stuff stings. Starting to think I should just get them stapled and call it a day.” He blinks, looking up from his work and and staring at Dabi with a furrowed brow.

“That wouldn’t help much. Sure it would keep them from moving around, but it wouldn’t stop them from getting worse.” Dabi shrugs, hands spreading moisturizer on his arms and chest as he talks.

“It’s not like I’ll be alive long enough to care. I’m going to die in my twenties kid, there’s no question about it.” That’s awful young to die. Sure Izuku wants to die at twelve, but he’s the exception, not the rule. Or at least, he thinks that’s the case.

“Why do you say that?” Another shrug.

“I have a goal. There are people I want to get rid of, and I’m not getting out of that fight alive. I don’t care when it happens, but I won’t be strong enough to win until at least my twenties. I’m doomed kid. I have no other purpose.” That’s... depressing. And kind of dramatic.

“So you’re suicidal?” Dabi jerks, hands pausing their work as he stares at the blank tv with confusion written on his face.

“...Not really? Or at least, I don’t think I am. I’m not fighting to die, I’m just going to die in that fight.” Izuku nods, leaning back into the couch with a sigh.

“So you’re passively suicidal. You don’t care about your death enough to stop it, but you aren’t actively seeking out death for the sake of dying.” Dabi continues to stare at the tv for a second before shrugging and continuing his work.

“Sounds about right. Why do you care pipsqueak?” Izuku pauses, blinking up at the ceiling as he thinks. He doesn’t care per se, but he is curious. He’s curious about a lot of things to be honest.

“Just curious.” At that, he lets the room go silent, mind wandering as he carefully ignores all the memories this interaction has been trying to drudge up.

He continues to float until he’s interrupted by a triumphant ‘ah-ha!’ from Dabi, head tilting forwards so he can see what’s in front of him instead of what’s above.

“There, I did it. I have been thoroughly creamed. That came out wrong. I have used the creams thoroughly.... Whatever, you know what I mean.” Izuku lets himself smile a little before sitting up and tossing a roll of tailor’s tape onto the ottoman.

“Sweet. Now, write down your measurements on this paper. If you know them, great, if you don’t, use the tape. Ask if you need help.” Dabi picks up the tape, flipping it around in his hand before shrugging and standing up.

“Yeah, I have no idea what you want. Have at it though, I don’t care as long as you don’t stab me or something.” Izuku huffs and stands up, grabbing the tape and pushing Dabi until they’re both standing in a clear area of the living room.

“Okay, arms up.” For the next few minutes, Izuku guides Dabi through the process, writing down each measurement as he goes. Dabi doesn’t complain, doing as told without pause or question. It doesn’t take long, fingers quickly taking each measurement with ease.

“There. Now, light your hand on fire.” That gets him a confused look, but he isn’t question it, igniting his palm with a grimace. Izuku looks at the fire, watching the way it interacts with Dabi’s skin before jerking a hand into the flame without warning.

Dabi yelps, quickly jumping back and extinguishing the flames.

“What the fuck kid!” Izuku doesn’t respond, pulling out his notebook and writing a few things down. He ignores the sounds of alarm that are still spilling from Dabi’s mouth, turning around and walking over to the couch without a word.

“Don’t ignore me! How on earth are you not burnt... You can’t just stick your hand into fire like that!! You’re a fucking bird for fuck’s sake! But seriously how are you not burnt-“ Izuku plops down on the couch, still writing away in his notebook until a hand reaches down and snatches it out of his grip.

“I said, don’t ignore me! God, you’re such a kid. What are you even writing?” Dabi flips the notebook around, looking at the messy scrawl on the open page. “God, your handwriting is awful. What even is this? Those aren’t words... Is, is this a fucking code?”

He looks down at Izuku with surprise written all over his face, eyes blinking as Izuku ignores a sudden feeling of familiarity. Something about Dabi’s eyes... No, he’s ignoring that.

“Yeah it’s code. Not a very good one, but it’s code. If you flip the page though, yeah, that one’s normal.” Dabi stares at the second page, blinking a few times before heaving a heavy sigh and tossing the book at Izuku’s head.

“Lemme guess, my measurements. Why do you even want those in the first place? God you’re weird.” Izuku picks up his notebook from where it fell on his lap, flipping it back to the page he was working on before it was snatched.

“I’m getting you a suit.” Dabi stops shuffling in place, looking down at him once more.

“A suit? Why would I need a suit? It’s not like I’m going to business meetings all that often pipsqueak.” Izuku glares at him, but still doesn’t comment on the nickname because he still doesn’t care.

“Not that kind of suit. A suit that’ll let you use your flames without further burning your skin.” Dabi jerks back, eyes going wide as Izuku continues to write away in his book.

“Yeah, totally. That’s definitely something that exists.” His voice is dripping with sarcasm, eyes rolling as he grabs the shirt Izuku gave him and starts putting it on.

“It’s pretty new technology, but it’s not all that expensive. Ever heard of Hatsume Eika?” Dabi finishes slipping the shirt over his head, pulling it down and grabbing his pants.

“No, I haven’t, but there’s no way that exists. I would have heard of it, okay? And if it does exist, it probably wouldn’t work on me.” Izuku sighs and grabs his phone, typing away on the screen for a second as Dabi pulls on the sweatpants and ties them around his waist.

“Here, her article. I can tell how hot flames are by feeling them and yours are way below the suits’ max at rest. I know they probably get hotter than that, but I doubt they’ll go above the threshold without extensive effort on your part. Which, sure, in a few years you could make it, but until then you should be fine.”

Once again, silence settles over the room as Dabi reads the article on Izuku’s phone. He’s focused, brow furrowed and jaw tense, finger scrolling down every few seconds. After a good two minutes of that, he sighs and tosses the phone towards Izuku’s waiting hands.

“Okay, it exists. But news flash, I have no money. I don’t care how ‘inexpensive’ it is, it’s out of my budget.” Izuku turns off his phone and tosses it to the side.

“I know. I was going to pay for it.” Dabi tenses, expression turning surprised once more. Man, the word surprised is getting a lot of use this evening.

“You? Pay for it? Why?” Izuku shrugs, picking up the small backpack and starting the process of loading it with items.

“Cuz I wanted to. I don’t really spend my money on anything, so I might as well help you out.” Dabi groans, a hand reaching up to rub at his eyes like this whole conversation is a constant drain on his psyche.

“God, you’re weird. Okay, I’ll humor you. I don’t even have a place to sleep, how would I take care of this fancy ass suit? It said it needed to be washed a special way and a bunch of random upkeep, I can’t do all that on the street.” Izuku pauses, the medicated moisturizer halfway in the bag as he thinks. He doesn’t pause long though, shrugging after a few seconds before continuing his work.

“You can stay here. I don’t live here, and it’s a pain to keep coming back. Keep it clean and don’t burn it down and yeah, you can use it.” Not for the first time, Dabi sighs and looks at him like he’s gone crazy.

“And what do you want in exchange for all this? Huh? A blood sacrifice? My soul? Some Takis?” Izuku shoves the final item in the bag and closes it before placing it on the ottoman once more. He stops after that, looking at the bag as he thinks.

...

“Do you know how to warm up your body without lighting anything on fire?”

Izuku doesn’t wake up slowly this time. One second, he’s sitting in a chair learning how to spread heat through his limbs, and the next he’s falling to the floor of his bedroom with a loud thump. The squawk he lets out halfway down would be embarrassing, but the sudden pain in his wing distracts him from any sort of emotional reaction that may have happened.

Before he’s able to start complaining about said pain, he jerks forwards until he’s sitting on the hardwood floor with wide eyes as he remembers what exactly woke him up.

Dabi.

The flaming wielding, passively suicidal, definitely depressed villain he sent a letter to a week before disappearing from his old life.

Yes, Dabi, a person who always seemed just on the edge of familiar, a fact he always ignored with great effort.

Dabi, who has familiar eyes Izuku’s seen at his new school almost every day for the past two weeks.

Holy shit. Dabi is a Todoroki.

Chapter Text

The first thing Izuku does with his newfound realization is scramble to his feet and run straight towards a computer to fact check. A Todoroki, probably early twenties, probably disappeared or died after a quirk accident. Three words is all it takes for something to pop up. Todoroki Quirk accident.

Touya Todoroki. 

Bingo.

There's not much, only the basic mention of a funeral and a name buried under a mountain of words, but it's enough. Yes, it's plenty enough to know that those feelings of familiarity actually meant something. It also confirms one more thing. 

Endeavor is far more than a horrible hero. He's also an abusive piece of shit father.

Man, yet another reason to hate the disgusting human that is Enji Todoroki. It doesn't matter what happens in the future, Izuku will never ever hate the man any less than he currently does. And with the way things are going, that hatred is likely going to grow with every detail he digs up about this damn family. 

He sighs, leaning against the low back of his chair, wings lax as he just lets himself relax for a second. This, doesn't actually change anything. It feels like it should, but it doesn't. No one would believe him if he tried to go through the legal channels, and he's not strong enough to do anything himself.

It doesn't change anything, not even the way he sees Dabi or Shoto or any of the people he knows. He's always hated Endeavor, and this doesn't change that fact in the slightest. He can't approach his classmate, can't fly to his safe house and talk to his... well, whatever he and Dabi are. Friends? Allies? 

It doesn't really matter, because he's treated Endeavor like the trash he is from day one. Honestly, the only thing he could do would be to approach Nezu with this realization, but that would involve gathering proof and he doesn't feel like betraying Dabi's trust anytime soon. Even if they aren't necessarily talking right at the moment. 

So yes, there's nothing he can do. 

That fact hangs over him all day. 

He struggles through breakfast, trying his best to ignore the sudden anger sitting in his chest. He breathes through it, forcing his jaw to unclench so he can eat his damn food. 

Then, he walks back upstairs and settles into a workout. It's a way to avoid his emotions, a tactic he's used for many years that almost never works. Instead, it makes things worse, the anger bubbling up until he's barely keeping himself from punching the wall. 

Taking a shower helps some. He turns the water as hot as it will go, and then heats up his own skin until the bathroom is brimming with steam. It feels nice, the tension in his muscles releasing until he's almost completely relaxed, eyes slipping closed as he stands under the spray. 

Leaving the shower isn't as bad as it once was, because he can keep himself as hot as he wants thanks to a certain villain. He still isn't quite sure why he dreamed of Dabi, but it doesn't really matter. Maybe his head is just sorting through villains, for some reason. 

Whatever, he can deal with that. 

And he does. He does deal with it. He goes through the day, writes even more memories in his journal. He writes about how Shigaraki hates flowers, and how Dabi hates fish. He writes about the smaller villains he sent to charities, about the times he fought against disgusting human beings who tried to hurt those weaker than them.

He writes about a lot of things.

His notebook has five more pages full of memories, scattered over his time as Kaho with no real structure or timeline. It's fine, he can organize it later. 

It's three pm when Aunty knocks on his door, shocking him out of his headspace as he stands up and swings it open with a confused expression. 

"The police asked me to have you check your phone. Detective Tsukachi, or something." Izuku blinks before nodding and reaching over to grab his phone off the nightstands as his door swings shut. Mitsuki nods back and walks away without a word, leaving him to stare at the seven missed calls he got that must have been ringing in the background as he worked. 

Okay, that's not concerning at all... 

He shakes his head and goes to type in his code but doesn't even get to start before his phone is buzzing with yet another call. It surprises him enough that it rings twice before he manages to finally push past the shock and answer.

"Hello?"

"There you are kid. Was starting to get worried there." That makes him blink, mouth opening and closing a few times as he takes in the slightly concerned tone from the familiar detective. 

"Uh, I'm fine? Is there something you need?" He hears a huff from the other side, but something about the less than professional tone helps relieve some of the tension. It doesn't seem like this is a negative call, which is good. 

"Yes actually. Eraserhead is finally up and kicking and told us some interesting details about the attack. He said you might have some things to say, so we were wondering if you'd be okay with coming in tomorrow. Won't take long, just a few questions and you can leave." He pauses, wondering for a second what Aizawa was thinking before shaking his head again and giving his answer. 

"Yeah, I can do that. What time?" 

-

Noon. They want him to come in at noon. That's fine. The phone sits on his desk, volume turned up higher than usual just in case. It's fine, everything's fine. 

He needs to write more notes. 

This is the perfect chance, the perfect way to get all this information to someone. Yes, this is good. 

Now he just needs to remember it all. 

Shigaraki visits most weeks. His schedule seem sporadic and random, always popping up without warning or even a single reason as to why he's here. Sometimes he's already in the room when Izuku walks in, sometimes he enters while Izuku's in the middle of changing. Again, it's random.

Usually, Izuku uses it as an opportunity to practice keeping a blank expression, and he is getting better at that, but this time... this time things are different. So when Shigaraki walks into the room, he ends up pausing and staring for even longer than usual as Izuku sits curled up on his bench, chest full of warmth thanks to the technique Dabi taught him.

"You good hot wings?" Izuku doesn't move, eyes staring at the wall and body tense. Shigaraki glances at the wall himself, probably to make sure nothing's there, before looking back at Izuku and peeling off his mask, hand, thing.

"Don't tell me you're having a mental break down. That's boring." Izuku finally blinks before looking up at his guest exhaustion written all over his face.

"Sorry to disappoint." And then he turns back to staring at the wall, trying his best not to collapse on the cement like a pile of goo. Shigaraki continues to stare for a few seconds before sighing and plopping down on the bench next to him.

Something must be aggravating him, because the second he sits down he's reaching up to scratch at his neck that's already marked up a decent bit. He's been scratching for a few hours then, possibly all day. It's none of Izuku's business, and usually he'd force himself to ignore it, but his emotions are raw and his mind is drowning and he can't stop himself from acting out this time.

"Stop that." Without thinking, he grabs Shigaraki by the wrist and pulls the hand away from his neck. Shigaraki jerks back, but he doesn't start scratching again, so Izuku counts it as a win.

"The hell's gotten into you?? I can do what I want, you have no right to boss me around. I don't care that you're player three, I'm still dozens of levels above you." Right, that stupid video game talk. Though it is easier to understand now that he's heard it a million times.

"Just... wait here." Shigaraki glares at him, but doesn't speak or move, waiting patiently as Izuku stands up and walks to the spare locker, pulling out the medical bin and grabbing a tub of ointment.

"Here, try this." Shigaraki looks at the cream in confusion, and then at Izuku, then back at the tub, like he has no idea what it is. Who knows, maybe he's never seen lotion before. He sure looks like he doesn't know lotion exists.

Izuku just sighs and opens the lid, dipping two fingers into the cream and pulling out a small amount.

"Like this." He reaches up and rubs it into his neck, but instead of understanding, Shigaraki's face floods with anger.

"I know how to use fucking lotion you idiot." He grabs the tub with a huff and does as Izuku did almost exactly, so he may or may not have been lying, but Izuku doesn't care. Either way, it's kind of funny to see such a scary looking villain grimace at the feeling of lotion on his neck.

The second he's done rubbing it in, he tosses the tub back at Izuku and grabs his game with yet another huff. Izuku just blinks a few times before placing the tub on the bench and going back to sitting curled up on the edge. They sit like that for a few minutes, the sound of the game echoing through the silence.

"What was that stuff?" Izuku doesn't jerk, but it does take him a second to realize that Shigaraki was talking to him. And then another to come up with an answer.

"Anti itch cream." The sound of the game pauses suddenly, and he looks over to see the screen go black as Shigaraki stares at the wall with a layer of confused contemplation written on his face.

"...anti itch cream has never worked before. What's so special about this one?" Ah, makes sense.

"I mean, it's a newer formula. Got it last week. It also targets quirk related issues, not eczema or anything like that." Shigaraki tenses, head jerking to the side so he's looking Izuku in the eye.

"What do you mean quirk related issues? How would my itch be quirk related?" He sounds almost concerned, like he's realizing something he doesn't want to realize.

"Well... your quirk is decay, it basically takes things and destroys them through a five point contact. Most quirks like that have some sort of physical drawback, and for you, it's effecting your skin. This moisturizer was designed for destruction based quirks. It gets into the cracks and heals the skin from the inside out instead of just putting it on the first layer and slowly letting it sink in without a healing aspect. It also uses a low level localized quirk suppressant to make sure it's able to heal completely before the quirk restarts the cycle.

Of course, I don't know everything about your quirk, but since it's working that's my guess."

He stops there, eyes now looking at the floor as he rests his chin on his knees. For a second, silence stretches through the room, but Izuku doesn't really care. His mind is screaming at him to get out of this damn fight ring and his head is aching and he really just wants to go home and fall asleep and ignore how badly he fucked up.

He's tired. He's tired and he's scared and he wishes oh so bad that lady death would just take him home.

"No... that's not how the itch works. Sensei told me that the itch goes away when I... use my quirk, and he's always right. He's right, he wasn't lying." Whatever, at least he can use this as a distraction.

Sensei huh? So Shigaraki has a teacher. Makes sense, he's kind of young to be out here being a villain all on his own. Seventeen, if he's remembering correctly. Or is he eighteen by now? Izuku's turning thirteen next week after all.

"Using quirks like yours might numb any physical effects for a bit, but it'd probably come back stronger within a few hours." He looks up this time, eyes tracking the way Shigaraki's skin turns pale, watching as his hands start to shake.

Oh... Izuku just fucked with something dangerous. Great, he's fucking up a lot this year.

It seems like this Sensei person is messing with Shigaraki's head, lying to him so he can gain control. Grooming him. Not an unusual tactic in the underground, but always so very tragic. And Shigaraki has the perfect quirk for that, the perfect quirk for a villain.

God Izuku hates society and their stupid rules about what each quirk is made for.

Now, how does he get through this without making things worse?

"Of course, I'm just speculating. Everyone is different." Shigaraki jerks, and Izuku can see the moment things turn south. It all starts with a tight grip, five fingers tensing around the edge of the bench. In seconds, the metal beneath his touch turns to dust, hand falling through the gap as his eyes snap down with shock and anger and all sorts of emotions that spill out onto the ice cold floor.

"FUCK!-" Shigaraki lurches onto his feet, breaths coming out sharp and harsh and eyes wide with something bordering on fear. Izuku feels a bit of that fear himself, inching into his chest as he watches this oh so young villain come to a realization he very much does not want to have.

"NO! No, you're lying. Sensei would never lie to me!!" Izuku does his best to stay calm, to not act defensive. If that's what Shigaraki wants to believe, then he isn't going to stop him.

"Okay." But his calmness doesn't help.

"STOP IT!" He sounds panicked, desperate, but Izuku can't remove the knowledge he's received. He can't reach in and stop this realization from happening. It's already in motion.

"Stop it! He wouldn't! He saved me, he helped me!! He just... he just-" Izuku watches as Shigaraki searches for an answer, an explanation. Maybe... maybe it would be better to just give him an answer, stop the downward spiral now.

Izuku never claimed to be a good person.

"The lotion's new. He probably just didn't know about it. For a short term fix, using your quirk would work." Shigaraki jerks, mouth snapping shut as he stares at Izuku with those same wide, scared eyes. He looks so young, so very young, Izuku can't help but feel a little anger on his behalf.

But there's nothing he can do about this.

He's a twelve year old kid that wants to do nothing more than die. He would never trust heroes with something like this, and the police wouldn't do jack shit. Maybe one day, when Shigaraki does something, maybe then he can help.

But until then...

"Yeah... Yeah, you're right. Sensei just didn't know about it. Ha! Obviously, yeah. Even Sensei can't know about everything all the time, he has blind spots just like any other character. Yeah, I'll show it to him and he'll be glad I found it! You're right player three."

He sounds so utterly relived, Izuku isn't able to ignore the pang of guilt in his chest. It's uncomfortable and far too close to his heart, reminding him of all the horrible decisions he's made. It wasn't all his fault, but god does it feel like it was.

"Yeah. That's it."

God does it feel like it was.

Three days.

In three days, he'll turn thirteen and get on a train that will take him to the one place he really doesn't want to be. In three days, Kaho will fight on the big stage, over and over until he looses. He can only hope he doesn't die whilst doing so.

Izuku shakes his head, taking a deep breath as Dabi glares at him from the other side of the ottoman.

"I've told you to stay focused like, five times already. What's gotten in your head pipsqueak?" Dabi isn't concerned, no, he's annoyed. He's hoping Izuku will spill the beans so they can move on, but man he really doesn't want to talk about this.

"It's nothing. Just distracted." Dabi rolls his eyes and shifts in place, leaning to the side a little as he stares at Izuku with the most done expression possible.

"No shit you're distracted. The question is by what, and you better answer me before I burn a hole in your couch." Izuku looks up with a glare, making sure Dabi knows that he isn't thrilled by that threat. He likes this couch, and he takes good care of it. If someone were to burn it, well, there would be some fingers rolling on the floor.

"I don't owe you an explanation." Dabi continues to look at him with that same dead expression, thoroughly unamused by his response.

"For someone who doesn't owe me an explanation, you sure do look like you want to explain it to someone." Izuku tenses, pausing a second to figure out if that really is the case. He's been trying to push it down for so long, the idea of telling others never really popped up.

...Maybe it would be a good idea to get it off his chest. Just this once.

He sighs, uncrossing his legs and leaning back onto his hands. Dabi relaxes as well, head tilting to the side as he waits for the explanation to begin.

"Have I ever told you what I do? Like, how I got this house?" Dabi's eyes widen, like he's surprised that they're starting at the beginning. It makes sense. Izuku hasn't really told him about anything personal like, ever. They usually just talk about Dabi's scars or quirks, not much else.

"No you haven't. What, are you some sort of government assassin or something?" Izuku huffs, smiling a little at that thought. Honestly, he wouldn't be surprised if there were child assassins in this damn disaster of a government. Especially in the Commission.

"No no, nothing that dramatic." He sighs, leaning back until his head is resting on the couch cushion behind him.

"Ever heard of a guy named Kousei?" He can't see Dabi's reaction, but he can hear him shift. And when he talks he sounds guarded, wary.

"Yeah, he's a criminal. Has a pretty big organization too, runs a bunch of illegal fight rings... Why?" Izuku smiles and forces himself to lift his head, looking Dabi in the eye.

"I'm one of his fighters." Dabi jerks, eyes going wide as he glances down at Izuku's bare arms and the scars sitting there. "And I'm... well, I'm his prize fighter." Now that, that gets a reaction.

Dabi sucks in a sharp breath, face paling a few shades as he looks at Izuku with thinly veiled horror.

"Oh... oh kid. That's, that's not good. Shit... No wonder you look like you're about to have an aneurysm." Izuku lets out a low chuckle, taking a deep breath before continuing.

"Yeah, I know. Not great. I was stupid to agree, I know now." Dabi's eyebrows shoot up, surprise written all over his face.

"You agreed to fight for him? You weren't like, black mailed?" Izuku sighs, expression turning a little sheepish.

"Yeah... not my proudest moment. I wanted to feel something, and fighting sounded fun. I... I didn't think about it as hard as I should have." Dabi sighs and rubs at his temple, like he's trying his hardest to not chastise a small child.

"That... was really stupid of you. So, what happened? Why the sudden change of heart? You almost die or something." Izuku smiles a little, but does his best to not spill the beans that he's already died, like, seven times at the least.

"Well, have you heard of the Gladiator Event?"

...

"Shit kid... really? You're what, eleven? They can't just... you can't just- man..." Dabi looks like he just swallowed a something rotten, skin even paler than before as he looks at Izuku like he's about to drop dead right here in this living room. If only.

"He knows where my family lives. He has complete control over me. If I go willingly, he'll reward me handsomely. If I don't, well, I don't want to find out what he does. I'm turning thirteen in three days, and we'll be leaving that morning. I can't back out of it. I've tried to think of a solution, but I can't." He stops there, jaw clenched shut as he tries his best not to get emotional.

But he's scared. Goodness he's scared.

"Man... Want me to fake your death? I'm pretty good at that." He can't help but smile at that, a sliver of the pressure falling off now that he's successfully shared the mental burden. He really did want to talk to someone about it. Who would have known.

"I'm good. It wouldn't stick anyways." Dabi shrugs, but he still looks rather disturbed. Makes sense, Izuku is rather young after all. No matter how old he feels, he's only been here barely thirteen years. He has a long way to go, and he's not allowed to miss it. Lady death is far too cruel for that to happen.

"You're weird kid, but you don't deserve that. But you have a plan, don't you." It's not a question, and Izuku can't help but feel a little surprised that Dabi saw through him.

He messed up, but he's not stupid.

"Yeah. I found a way to take him down. Permanently. It'll take a while, at least a year or two, but I can do it." Dabi nods, expression turning serious.

"If you ever need my help, I'll be here. I owe you a debt, and I pay all my debts, no matter how small." Once again, a smile pushes its way onto his face, eyes looking out the window at the dark night sky.

"Thanks Dabi. I'll keep that in mind." But he doesn't need to burn it all down.

Not this time.

Somehow, and he says this with all his chest because he really doesn't know how, somehow, he lasts three months. He fights and dies and wakes up with ashes on his clothes and blood on the ground and he continues to do so for three damn months.

And once again, somehow, no one questions the fact that he comes back completely healed each time he leaves the ring half alive. That isn't quite as surprising because there are some pretty insane healing quirks, but anyone with half a brain knows that something that good has a big drawback so it really wouldn't make sense logically but, well, somehow, no one questions it.

Kousei brings him back to Musutafu three days after his loss, drops him off at the train station, and leaves without a word. Izuku's fine with that. He's more than fine with with that. He actually ends up flying to the tallest building he can find just so he can sunbathe for a while, relaxing on the cement as he mentally rejoices over the fact that he didn't die on stage.

He did it! He survived without spilling his biggest secret in front of a whole stadium full of people! Good for him!

Unfortunately, he can't stay here for long. He has things he needs to do, plans he needs to complete. He's done quite a lot to fuck with Kousei's empire while he was gone and he needs to get ready to do it some more.

Which means coming back home. Which means returning to his regular life. Which means going through the process of returning after officially being declared missing for three whole months.

Well, might as well rip off the bandaid.

The first day back is like torture. He's dragged through the police station for hours, asked questions he doesn't answer, and goes home only to be asked even more questions that he still doesn't answer. Though, if he's being honest, he thought it would be harder.

Not the questioning part, no that's just as bad as he thought it would be. No, he thought it would be harder to look his auntie and uncle in the eye and ignore the tears as he refuses to answer those questions. He doesn't know if it's the exhaustion or the leftover relief, but he just... he just doesn't feel anything.

For days he goes through this. He doesn't leave, staying in this god forsaken house until they let him go to school. And even then he doesn't fight for a few days, having been given an indefinite break as reward. He lasts one and a half weeks before the itch grows too intense to ignore and he's back in the ring that very afternoon.

He fights. He fights and he gets stronger and he works his ass off trying to take down Kousei's empire. He fights and he dies and he ignores the numbness in his chest until all that's left is apathy and a blank slate. He's gotten good at keeping his face neutral, and keeps it up almost twenty four seven.

He's going to take down this god forsaken empire and leave it behind, no matter what it takes.

"Damnit! Fucking, I can't even- fuck this damn quirk I swear to god." Izuku watches Shigaraki curse out his bench, or, well, the small section of his bench that no longer exists. He got angry over... something, and it resulted in yet another dusting of private property.

It's nothing new. there's a small collection of missing metal littered all over the bench, and Izuku doesn't feel particularly inclined to get a replacement any time soon because it's just going to keep on happening no matter what he does. Shigaraki is, after all, a regular in his life, no matter his thoughts on the matter.

"I'm gonna chop off one of my fingers I swear to god." Izuku blinks from where he's sitting as he patches up a small wound on his arm. Well, small compared to some of his other injuries.

"Why don't you wear gloves?" Shigaraki glares at him, which makes sense because he did just say something a little stupid. He has probably tried tons of stuff, so yeah, kind of stupid.

"And what would keep me from dusting the glove idiot?" Yeah, that's fair.

He doesn't respond, and Shigaraki huffs before sitting back down and pulling out his thankfully still in tact ds. Yes, Izuku finally asked what it was which earned him just as much snark as he expected, but hey, he got an answer.

They don't talk again that evening, just siting in eachothers presence as they tend to, but when Izuku gets home he makes a beeline for his computer and yup, that's what he thought.

One week later, he finds himself sitting in his locker room waiting for Shigaraki to show up. He never knows when exactly the villain will appear, but he can guess an estimation based on past visits. Sure enough, he shows up on day eight, one day before Izuku expected him.

"I got something for you." Shigaraki pauses, looking at him with a wary expression. Which, understandable, but come on they've known each other for a little over a year now. Show a little trust already!

"What is it? A bomb?" That makes him want to smile, but he's gotten pretty good at pushing that urge down into his gut. Instead, he shakes his head and goes to grab a small box out of his locker.

"Here." Shigaraki squints at the box before looking back up at him, still acting like he's not sure what's going on. After a few seconds of that, he shrugs and grabs the box out of Izuku's hand, opening it without a hint of the caution he was just utilizing.

When the box is open, Izuku watches as his expression turns surprised, eyes tracing the black gloves nestled inside the container.

"What are these?" He straightens up a little, but still keeps his face neutral as per usual.

"Gloves for people with five point contact quirks." Shigaraki looks between him and the gloves, blinking slowly until he finally shrugs and pulls them out of the box, spending a few seconds looking at them before carefully slipping them onto his hands.

The second they're both on, he grabs the box with all five fingers and stands there with a look of badly hidden awe when the box stays in tact. Izuku still doesn't smile, but goodness he wants to, watching closely as Shigaraki starts grabbing everything in sight. His shirt, the bench, his pants, his ds. He even grabs Izuku's arm a few times before finally stopping and staring at his hands with a manic smile.

"Holy shit hot wings. You really figured it out." He looks excited, like he can't wait to go around grabbing things as soon as he can.

"How'd you find these." He doesn't really feel inclined to say it took a singular google search cuz he's pretty sure that wouldn't end well, so he just shrugs before going back to patching up yet another cut on his arm. Shigaraki continues to go around grabbing things for the rest of the visit, looking far too much like an excited child for Izuku's liking.

He doesn't like being reminded of Shigaraki's situation. Not when he can't do anything about it.

"Hey, we should fight." Izuku jerks, looking up at the villain who is now staring at him with a rather intense expression. Okay, this is kind of random.

"Why?" Shigaraki smiles his most manic smile yet, like Izuku's response was some sort of sign that he'd be okay with it. And to be honest, he's not completely against the idea. His matches have been getting rather boring lately.

"You're getting stronger every month! And my partners are boring, you'd be so much better! Come on Hot Wings! You're free on the weekends. It'll be a way to get stronger!" Izuku blinks, thinking about whether or not he wants to do something like that, but that's not the only question. He also needs to think about the consequences of saying no...

Yeah, might as well avoid a tantrum and get some extra practice in.

"Sure." Shigaraki's smile only grows, excitement written all over his face. Goodness he looks so much like a child. Izuku hates this Sensei dude.

"Perfect! Just go here whenever you want and I'll be there! Don't come too late though, I don't want to stand around waiting for you, got it? And don't worry, you'll be my guest, no one will kill you." Izuku nods, though he wasn't actually worried about that. He's known Shigaraki long enough that he'd actually be fine with the villain knowing his not so secret secret.

"I'll be there." Shigaraki practically beams at him, and for a second, he can't help but think that this might be a really bad idea.

...

Too late now.

Finding the address Shigaraki gave him isn't all that hard, though it is somewhat out of the way. Thankfully, he isn't forced to walk through a maze thanks to his very handy wings that let him fly over the buildings until he's landing in front of a warehouse in the middle of a run down ship yard.

Random, but okay.

It takes a second to build up the courage to knock, but he manages to do so without flinching away when the door swings open to reveal a rather intimidating looking man.

"Name?" He sounds angry, like he doesn't want to be here. And, well, Izuku can relate.

"Kaho." The man grunts and opens the door, stepping to the side so Izuku can walk in. And walk in he does, looking around the massive interior that's mostly empty sans the sparring mats and a singular painted border in the center of the room. That must be where they fight.

"Kaho! I told Sensei you'd come! I can't believe he doubted me." Izuku doesn't flinch, but it's a close call, body spinning around so he's facing Shigaraki who looks far too happy for Izuku's liking. His smile is manic and his eyes are wide and really he looks just a tad bit off. Granted he almost always looks a tad bit off, so that isn't saying much.

"I don't back out of my commitments." Shigaraki's smile grows at that, and Izuku notes that he's still wearing the gloves. Also, he's missing the dismembered limb that usually sits on his face. Maybe he doesn't wear it while fighting.

Whatever. One less thing for Izuku to be creeped out by.

"That's what I said! Oh this will be fun. Everyone I've fought recently has lost in seconds, so annoying. I can't wait to see how long you last." That's ominous. Though he isn't sure how this will go if he's being honest. He very well might loose in a few minutes, or he might win in the same time. He's only ever faced Shigaraki once for barely a second, so he genuinely doesn't know how this will go.

"We'll see." Shigaraki continues to smile at him, wide and creepy and just as villainous as one would expect. Izuku doesn't know how many people he has killed, and he really doesn't want to know, but goodness sometimes he sure does wonder.

"Yes we will! Come on! Come on! This'll be so much fun." There's the excitement again. He's not sure which emotion he prefers.

Either way, he can't control any of this, so he drops his bag and walks to one end of the painted ring before moving into a familiar stance. Shigaraki does the same, still smiling in a way that makes Izuku's skin crawl. Instead of letting it get to him, he takes a deep breath and shifts into something more defensive.

Which is, of course, exactly when Shigaraki strikes.

There's no warning, no bell, no shout, just an attack so fast he's forced to rely on instinct rather than planning. Thankfully, he's good at this, and he actually forces Shigaraki to jump back if he doesn't want to be sliced up by sharp talons. He takes the split second of reprieve to plan out his next few moves, and then, he attacks.

His sudden aggression surprises Shigaraki enough for him to get a hit in, talons slicing through thin fabric with ease. He doesn't wait for his opponent to catch up, kicking out in a move that Shigaraki barely avoids. Then there's a hand reaching for his head and he jumps back despite the gloves that would have prevented anything from happening.

This is a spar. If Shigaraki touches him somewhere lethal, he looses, even if nothing actually happens.

He pauses when he's a good five feet away, watching as Shigaraki looks at his shirt with a small pout. For a second, he expects anger, but instead that pout turns into a wide, far too excited smile. He looks extremely happy that he almost got his stomach sliced open like butter. That's not weird at all.

"I knew you got stronger! You've leveled up quite a lot since we first met. Keep going and we might end up on the same level!" That's high praise from the gamer lord. Izuku doesn't respond though, taking a deep breath and settling back into a stance.

Shigaraki takes the hint with a smile, moving back to his starting place and getting ready himself. Of course, now that Izuku knows the rules, or lack thereof, he decides he may as well have some fun. He crouches down and spreads out his wings, catching Shigaraki's attention seconds before he strikes.

His wings give him an extra burst of speed, shooting him forwards faster than even he thought possible until he's inches away from Shigaraki with his talons reaching out. At the last second, Shigaraki jerks to the side, but Izuku doesn't let him escape. He lashes out, kicking in an arc until his leg is slamming into Shigaraki's side without a hint of restraint.

The contact is harsh, but his opponent isn't going to be fazed by something like this. He barely has time to dodge a hand that tries to wrap around his ankle, but he does manage, pulling his leg out of reach seconds before the fingers make contact.

It doesn't stop there.

No, Shigaraki is back on his feet the second Izuku's out of reach, but he's not out of reach for long.

The fight doesn't stop, a hand reaching for his face once more. He grabs the wrist, twisting it until Shigaraki is pulling away only to reach out with his other hand. He goes to grab that wrist as well, but his hands are occupied so teeth it is. Shigaraki notices the new weapon right before he's biting down, but he bites down on thin air, the wrist long gone along with the rest of his opponent.

But once again, the fight continues, and he barely dodges a hand to the neck because Shigaraki is behind him, just out of view. He's not entirely sure how he dodges that one, but he does, ducking down and using his wings to trip up his opponent before spinning around and swinging his fist in a punch.

It keeps happening. Attack, dodge, attack, run, attack, dodge, over and over until they're both panting and staring at each other from across the ring.

But then Shigaraki smiles once more, and Izuku freezes, because that smile is dangerous. Sure enough, Shigaraki lifts his hands and starts removing the gloves, smiling like the cat that caught the canary and in case you were wondering Izuku is very much the canary in this situation.

"Time to level up the difficulty." Can he opt out? Probably not. It's fine though, he was already doing a good job at avoiding contact with those oh so dangerous hands. To be honest, he kind of expected the gloves to be off already, maybe even from the very start.

Still, the expression on Shigaraki's face is nerve wracking. For someone who seems strangely intent on letting Izuku kill himself, he looks far to happy about making this fight possibly lethal.

"Come on hot wings! It'll be fun! Raise the stakes, get our blood pumping." He sounds far too happy as well.

"Whatever floats your boat Mr. dusty." Shigaraki rolls his eyes and tosses his gloves to the side before returning to his spot once more. He's still smiling, still looking like an excited kid, still forcing Izuku to ignore all the signs he doesn't have the time to read.

Shigaraki strikes first this time, and Izuku barely dodges just like every other time. The only difference is that he takes fewer risks, but that in and of itself puts him at the disadvantage. Shigaraki doesn't seem to care if Izuku slices his skin, and his clothes are proof of that.

Each time those hands reach for him, his heart rate increases until his chest is bursting, skin on fire as he struggles to stay focused. He doesn't really care about dying, but most of Shigaraki's attacks wouldn't kill him. No, they'd just hurt really fucking bad and he doesn't like that.

He's suicidal, not a masochist.

Shigaraki attacks, and he barely dodges, and then he attacks and Shigaraki takes it with surprising durability. Izuku isn't that durable. Each kick and hit and scrape hurts, and it's taking its toll, slowing him down. He's not sure how long they've been at this. All he knows is that Shigaraki seems far from finished with this not so friendly spar.

he doesn't know what round they're on, but his chest is bursting and he can feel fire bubbling up in his veins and he really doesn't want to keep going for much longer but he doesn't have the guts to call it quits.

They stop, they start, they fight, they continue this push and pull until Izuku is far too close to his limit for comfort.

And then, he messes up.

It's stupid, small, a foot tripping him up when he doesn't expect it. In less than a second, he's falling back and a hand is reaching for his throat and he doesn't have time to think so he reaches out and grabs.

One second, Shigaraki mouth is stretched into a vicious smile, the next, he's screaming out in pain. Izuku jerks away, letting go of the wrist in his grip and watching as Shigaraki stumbles back, a hand print burned into his skin.

Shit.

Izuku freezes, glancing down at his hand in surprise as Shigaraki curls up in pain, muffled cries slipping past his lips as he grips his arm right above the burn. The skin is bloody and charred, but Izuku is lost in panic, memories of blood and ash and fire flashing in his mind.

No, he needs to focus. He shakes his head and walks forwards until Shigaraki is looking up at him with wide eyes.

"You were- mnn, you were holding out on me." His voice is shaky and strained, like he's barely keeping himself from crying out in pain. His body is tense, tremors wracking his frame. Despite it all, he doesn't look angry. No, he looks excited.

That's not what Izuku expected.

"We need to get you patched up. Where's your med kit?" He doesn't know what else to do, trying to focus on what he can do.

"Don't ignore me. Where you ever going to tell me, or was this some convoluted side quest I needed to find on my own?" God Izuku really doesn't want to do this right now.

"There's a lot about me you don't know. It's not my job to unlock my own backstory." Shigaraki smiles, but his teeth are clenched tight. He's in pain, and a lot of it.

"Now where's your med kit?" He's says it firmly this time, trying his best to put his foot down. It wipes the smile off Shigaraki's face, replaced by annoyance that would be concerning if it weren't for the small pout and sharp huff.

"Shichi, get the med kit." A young man who looks rather shocked jerks towards a cabinet on the far wall, rushing to grab a bin off the shelf and bringing it back as fast as he can.

Izuku takes over from there, dragging Shigaraki to the mats and sitting him down without a word. He's somewhat surprised by the lack of resistance, but he continues his work despite it, rummaging through the bin until he has everything he needs.

Shigaraki doesn't protest, breathing slowly through his nose as he tries to keep his mouth shut. It's impressive, how well he's handling the pain. Even as Izuku cleans the wound and rubs ointment over the skin, Shigaraki only hisses and flinches a few times, mostly keeping quiet and staying in place until the wound is cleaned and wrapped tight.

"There. Go to a doctor as soon as you can, okay?" He doesn't get a response at first, red eyes scanning the white bandage with far less tension than before. The cream must have helped because he no longer looks on the verge of collapsing to the floor, which is good.

"Okay?" Shigaraki jerks, looking back up with a strange expression.

"Yeah yeah, I'll have the doctor look at it." Izuku almost wants to ask who 'the doctor' is, but he's not going to open that can of worms. Not right now or any time soon.

"Good." He stands up after that, looking around the room again as he tries to ignore the memories attempting to push their way into the front of his mind. He's doing good so far, but he needs to get out of here before Shigaraki starts to pry. He won't be able to handle that right now. He just won't.

"Don't worry hot wings. I won't pry into your backstory quite yet. But I will be searching for that hidden quest from now on, got it?" Izuku blinks, surprised at how well Shigaraki read him. Most people have a hard time doing that nowadays.

"Sure." God this whole thing was a bad idea.

Too late now.

Chapter Text

Man, Izuku forgot just how fucked up the situation was. 

He’s not sure why he had to be awake to remember those things, but he remembers them now. He remembers the way Shigaraki’s eyes lit up when talking about his Sensei, remembers how young he looked, how similar to a child he acted. He’s not someone who refused to grow up, he was someone groomed to stay young. 

He was forced into this, and that fact alone makes Izuku sick. 

But is there a way to fix things? Is Shigaraki too far gone for that? For rehabilitation? Even if rehabilitation for someone like him did exist, would Shigaraki even accept it as an option, or would he snap at the mere mention of taking part in the world of heroics?

Izuku doesn’t know. He really doesn’t. He’s stuck here, laying in bed as he waits for sleep to take him. 

Tomorrow. Maybe Aizawa will have some ideas. It’s unlikely, but he’s too tired to try and fix things now. Yes, tomorrow. It can wait that long. 

The streets are mostly silent this night. He’s in a shady area of Musutafu, in the back corners of the city where no one wants to be after the sun sets. This area sees him often, though he isn’t sure why that tends to be his choice. It doesn’t matter though, not to him.

What does matter is the noise inside his head. He had a spar with Shigaraki the night before, and he only accidentally used his quirk once, but that was enough.

Each time he slips up, Shigaraki looks at him with stars in his eyes like an excited puppy and it’s starting to get to him. It’s not fair that his opponent is excited when he’s struggling to keep ongoing as memories flood his head. There’s a burn mark on Shigaraki’s wrist, cuts all over his chest from where Izuku lashed out.

It’s not kill or be killed like in the ring, but it’s pretty damn close so there’s no holding back. Not with Shigaraki.

Dabi has helped him learn to push down the fire, taught him how to control the heat without creating flames, but it isn’t foolproof. He’ll need to be careful if he wants to keep on fighting.

Either way, he doesn’t need to worry about those things right now. He can relax, he can breathe, enjoy the heat in the air, sit on this building without worries. There are stars in the sky and a gentle breeze ruffling his feathers, a pleasant buzz in his head as he empties his mind.

This is nice. The silence is nice.

Or at least, it was nice.

He hears the footsteps first, rushing down the street with an uneven pace. Then he hears a low voice, panicked and desperate and whispering distressed words. Whoever it is sounds terrified, and something about it pulls at Izuku’s chest no matter how badly he wants to ignore it.

So, he looks. He walks to the other side of the building and scans the sidewalk beneath him until he finds the source of the sudden noise. A man, stumbling down the sidewalk with trembling hands pressed against his head. His eyes are wide and scared and he’s definitely injured.

He’s moving slowly, until he isn’t, slipping into an alleyway just out of Izuku’s line of sight. Instead of moving on, he stretches out his wings and lifts off into the air, flying over to the next building so he can continue to watch. Whoever it is isn’t standing anymore, curled up against the wall as he continues his muttering.

Izuku pauses then, taking a closer look. Something about this man feels... dangerous. He’s not sure why, but his instincts have never failed him before. He’ll need to approach this carefully, slowly, calmly.

The first step is not flying down into the alley. Coming down from above usually scares people pretty bad, so not a good idea in situations like this. Instead, he flies down to the sidewalk a decent bit away before walking towards the alley with audible footsteps.

As soon as he gets close, the panicked whispering goes quiet, which probably means he’s been noticed. That’s good, maybe. When he reaches the alley, he doesn’t just walk in without a warning. No, he stops and stands at the throat with a relaxed stance, trying to seem as non threatening as possible.

For a second, the only sound is that of uneven breaths as the stranger stares at him with those wide panicked eyes. He still has both hands pressing against his head, arms still trembling and tears running down his face. He’s scared, and the sudden presence of a new variable probably isn’t helping much. That’s okay though, Izuku can handle this.

He doesn’t speak, slowly walking into the alley with loose shoulders and relaxed wings. He keeps walking until the man reacts, one of his hands rapidly grabbing something out of his tattered jacket and pulling it out with a shout.

“Stay back! No, get closer-“ Izuku pauses, wondering what that break in character was. The object he pulled out was a knife, but a small one, not much more than a pocket knife. His arm is still shaking, and in general he doesn’t seem all that threatening.

Instead of getting closer, Izuku decides that he’s close enough and goes to sit down on the other side of the alley, curling his wings so they aren’t raised above his head and leaning forwards so his chin is in his hands. The stranger seems unsure what to do, but doesn’t put away the knife, looking around himself with those panicked eyes.

Izuku waits, not pushing, not speaking, until the stranger suddenly flinches back and drops the knife, hand jerking to his head as he groans in pain. Something bad happened, something terrible. It pulls at something in his chest, a familiar sadness that always lurks in the background of his mind.

He needs to focus, though. The stranger is shifting, curling into himself, breaths speeding up until he’s close to hyperventilating. Izuku starts inching over, slow and careful until he’s sitting in front of the man and trying to get his attention.

“Hey, I won’t hurt you. You’re safe. Can you take a deep breath for me?” The man jerks, head tilting up ever so slightly until he’s peaking out from the gap between his arms. He still looks scared, but seems to acknowledge that Izuku isn’t a threat, which is good.

He starts taking deep breaths to demonstrate, in and out until the man finally starts copying him. It’s slow, but it works, breaths slowly evening until he’s no longer at risk of passing out. Izuku nods, staying relaxed as the man slowly unfurls in front of him.

“Good job. I’m Kaho. Can I have your name?” The man pauses, looking around the alley once more until finally settling on Izuku with just a little less fear than before. Nice, they’re getting somewhere.

“Jin.” Okay, he has a name.

“Thank you. Now, can I help you patch up that cut?” Jin jerks and starts looking all over his body, as though searching for the injury. Izuku waits, wondering if he isn’t aware of the cut on his head. It probably hurts like a bitch, but maybe there’s something else going on.

“It’s on your head.” Jin looks up, lifting a hand and pressing against his forehead before pulling it away, eyes widening when he sees the blood on his fingers. His surprise confirms Izuku’s theory. Something else is going on.

“Uhh... I don’t-“ Jin’s words are cut off with a wince, hands moving back up once more to press against the sides of his head as though he’s trying to push his skull together like a lego. Izuku doesn’t wait for a response, pulling off his backpack and pulling out a mini med kit he carries around for emergencies.

“Here, let me look.” Jin opens his eyes, expression still contorted in pain, but he does react, opening his arms until Izuku can see the wound.

“Thank you. Deep breaths.” He starts slow, gently mopping up the blood with gauze before pulling out a disinfectant and spritzing a little on the surface. Jin grimaces, but doesn’t protest, watching as Izuku starts patching it up with his oh so beloved medical sticker. It quickly melts into the skin, and Jin slumps in relief thanks to the gentle numbing aspect.

His eyes stay closed until something makes him jerk once more, hands reaching up to press at his head like he’s splitting apart at the seams. Yeah, it’s not the wound, it’s something else.

“Hey, Jin, can you tell me what happened?” He’s not going to push for an answer, but it probably won’t hurt to ask.

Probably.

Thankfully, the question doesn’t receive an adverse reaction, but he doesn’t get a response either. Jin is shaking, pushing harder and harder as tears stream down his face. He’s scared of something that isn’t Izuku, and Izuku really wants to figure out what.

But he’s not going to push, so he waits, and waits, until suddenly the muttering from before starts up without warning.

“I’m splitting, I’m not me- I don’t want to die, I don’t want to disappear. I’m splitting-“ That makes him pause, eyes searching for what must be causing this reaction. He doesn’t find anything, as expected. It’s probably mental, not physical. Maybe quirk related.

“I can’t- I can’t, need to stay together, don’t want to split apart.“ He’s repeating that, something about splitting apart. That sounds like something quirk related, especially with the act of physically pushing his head together. Hmm, maybe...

Izuku reaches into his backpack again, pulling out a spare mask he carries around... for some reason. He carries around a lot of things he doesn’t need, if he’s being honest.

“Hey, Jin, try this.” The man pauses, looking up at him with wide eyes as he holds out the mask. When he doesn’t react, Izuku moves forwards and gently slips it over his head. Somehow, it fits, though it is rather snug, and the second it’s on, Jin sucks in a breath and reaches up to touch the fabric.

Izuku watches as the shaking slowly subsides, relaxing now that he knows it’s working. It was a guess, but it payed off. See, he’s always had good intuition.

“There. No splitting apart.” Jin, looks up at him, mouth hanging open in surprise as he continues to feel at the stretched fabric sitting snug on his head. Izuku waits, sitting back down and lowering his wings once more until they’re resting on the floor. It’s kind of gross, but he still needs to act as nonthreatening as possible. Just in case.

“You... I don’t feel- it worked?” He sounds like he’s in awe, though Izuku can’t really see his expression through the mask. It’s tight, but it’s not paper thin like some might be. No, it’s sturdy and warm, just the way Izuku likes it.

“You can breathe now. You’ll be okay.” For a second, the alleyway returns to silence, no cars or pedestrians to interrupt them. Then, Jin relaxes onto the floor, shoulders drooping and mouth spreading into a small relieved smile.

“Thank you.” Izuku nods and picks up his bag.

“Your welcome. You can keep the mask. I have plenty.” He stands up, pausing when Jin struggles to his feet as well.

“Thank you kid. Thank you. I’ll... I’ll repay you one day. I can do that. Whatever you need.” Izuku freezes for less than a second, mind logging the words for later before moving on with a nod.

“I’ll be waiting.” Something in his chest is screaming for him to get away, but he waits. He waits until Jin is walking past him, fingers playing with the edge of the mask as he leaves. He waits until he’s alone in the alley, mind running over the interaction as he tries to make sense of this feeling.

Jin is dangerous. Izuku doesn’t know how he knows, doesn’t know why, but he knows Jin is dangerous.

That’s fine, though. They’ll probably never see each other again.

Yeah, it’s fine

There’s so much to do.

His wings and back muscles ache from the constant flying as he jumps from place to place trying to gather enough evidence to finish his task. He’s oh so tired, sleep a luxury he can barely afford with this godforsaken job ahead of him. There’s an itch under his skin thanks to the fights he keeps on winning with barely any injuries.

And somehow, on top of it all, he still spars with Shigaraki and trains with Dabi and does his school without falling behind. He’s doing all this, and it’s taking its toll on both his body and mind. He’s met people who’ve been trapped just like him, and he’s promised to get them out.

They always look at him with pity, with a sadness behind their gaze that Izuku understands. He doesn’t try to convince them that he’ll succeed, because he honestly doesn’t know if he will. He doesn’t know how this will end. All he knows is that he will be alive and that the itch will keep growing stronger until he does something stupid to get rid of it.

But that’s a problem for future Izuku. Right now, he needs to focus. He needs to focus and push himself further than he’s ever gone before so he can get this done and move on. He can’t know for sure that he’ll get this done, but he has a good chance.

To top it all off, the more he learns, the more he wonders how on earth this stupid empire was created. It’s a spiderweb with cut strands, barely hanging on because the sheer stupidity of the system and the barely there security that Izuku is slipping past without even a hint of effort.

He doesn’t know how Kousei got this far, but he’s going to keep going until those final flimsy strands are cut as close to the source as he can manage.

But that means doing everything he can, which means doing things he finds tedious or boring. He’s doing that right now, sitting on an unfamiliar rooftop with a pile of papers on his lap as he tries his best to sort through all the information he has on hand. There are mounds of that information, and his head is buzzing as he ignores the sting of the small wounds that cover his body.

He’s focused, eyes scanning each page and writing notes in a messy code before flipping the page once more. Over and over, he sorts through each one until the pile has been placed to the side. Then, he grabs the first one and starts over.

After the third run, he finally calls it quits, pushing everything into his backpack before standing up and stretching out with a groan. His body is still aching, but the air is warmer than it has been all week and he really wants to take advantage of that for at least a few minutes.

So, he brings one of his wings closer and rubs at a sore spot until the pain falls into the background before stretching both wings back and pushing himself off the roof. As per usual, he’s in a dangerous area, silence ringing through the air as he flies over buildings and streets without a care in the world.

About halfway through his flight, he starts looking down at the alleys below, occasionally catching shadows of people in the dark. They are few and far between though, and they never look up.

Or at least, most of them never look up.

He’s about to start the flight home when it happens, a word spoken so softly he barely catches it. He does catch it, but he almost plays it off as a trick of the wind.

“Birdy...” The voice sounds tired, the word slurred and low. He stops in place, carefully flapping his wings in a way that keeps him somewhat steady. He’s gotten better at this, even though he doesn’t need to do it often.

Back to the voice. It was somewhere below him, a little to the left. Whoever it was sounded strange, in a way that drags a drop of curiosity up to the surface. In seconds, sharp eyes are searching for the source as he starts retracing his flight path.

There, in the corner of that alley. He looks down, and immediately freezes.

There’s a girl, a small girl with blond hair and blood covering her mouth. And right next to her lays a body bleeding out onto the pavement. That’s all he can see from here, so he lower himself to the ground until he’s standing in front of her with tension wrapped around his shoulders.

The body is dead, an older man with wide unseeing eyes that makes Izuku’s skin crawl. But then he looks a little closer, and he finally understands what happened here. He recognizes this man, from wanted posters on news articles about a pedophilic rapist. Yes, he knows what happened, and good riddance if you ask him.

When he looks back up, the little girl is still staring at him, an expression on her face that he barely notices because her skin is so pale it’s genuinely concerning. Not to mention the fact that she’s trembling like a leaf. She doesn’t look good, not at all.

“Pretty.” He pauses, finally taking in her expression as she stares at him in awe. She looks enraptured, like he’s some sort of shining creature standing in front of her with a smile and seventeen eyes. He needs to take this slow, move carefully, make sure he knows all the details.

Okay, dead pedophile laying on the floor, blood on the ground, blood on the knife on the ground, he knows what happened there. Next, young girl who’s probably somewhere around his age, curled up on the ground with pale skin and constant tremors wracking her body.

She’s sick, or malnourished, or maybe something else on the long list of things that could be wrong. But there’s another hint there.

Blood on her lips, fangs in her mouth, and glassy eyes as she continues to stare at him without even a hint of fear.

She has a blood based quirk, and she’s starving.

“Pretty bird.” Izuku just barely notices the sudden change before it happens, legs bolting towards the girl until he’s catching her seconds before she falls to the floor. She’s light, oh so light, and her body is still trembling in his arms. Not good. She needs blood and she can’t drink while passed out.

Good thing he knows how to get some in her.

Carrying someone who’s passed out as he flies is hard, but it’s not as hard as it should be. The second he picks her up, she’s curling towards him while mumbling something about him being warm. Good, she’s still functioning, even if she is mostly asleep.

He flies as fast as he can, which isn’t particularly fast, but that’s fine because their location isn’t that far away. A dark alley, a red door, a familiar knock. He waits until the door swings open, walking inside next to a young nurse with six arms. She offers to carry the girl for him, but he declines, mostly because of the way she’s still curled into him like his warmth is addicting.

He continues to wait for a good twenty minutes, sitting on an old worn down couch as he tries his best to stay calm. He waits, and waits, until finally the nurse comes back and guides him to an empty room with a small bed. When he tries to put the girl down, she protests, trying to reach for him until he’s stepping away with a tension in his jaw that wasn’t there before.

The nurse notices what happens and immediately goes to grab a warmer comforter. He thanks her with a nod, earning a small tired smile as she walks away. Good, everything’s good. The doctor will come and they’ll get her some emergency blood and it will all be fine.

The wait is shorter than he anticipated, barely ten minutes passing before a doctor slips into the room with a smile. She goes through the motions, completing a small checkup before turning around and asking him questions as she continues to go through tests without pause.

He doesn’t tell her everything, only giving her the necessary information until the doctor nods and takes off her gloves, stepping out of the room with a smile. He waits again until the doctor comes back a couple minutes later with a blood bag and the nurse from earlier.

He watches as they set everything up, watches as they carefully treat this young girl whose name no one knows. He watches as the blood flows into her veins, as the doctor leaves and the nurse sets up a saline drip. He listens as she explains the dehydration and the malnourishment and how they’ll need to run some tests later.

He listens as she explains how it takes a while to get this bad, and how she has signs of abuse littered all over her body. Every single explanation, every single theory, every single minor detail makes a familiar red hot anger bubble up in his chest.

He wants to find who did this, and he wants to kill them. It’s not something he should want. It something a villain would want, and he’s no villain, but it’s all so much to take in. He only just met this girl, he doesn’t even know her name, but the way she looked at his wings in awe has dragged up a protective instinct he didn’t know he had.

“She’ll be okay, Kaho.” Izuku looks up from where he was staring at the IV port, eyes locking with the young nurse who’s looking at him with a small smile. She’s trying to be comforting, and he won’t lie, it works. He feels some of the anger calm, finally able to take a deep breath before nodding and looking back at the young girl.

She doesn’t speak again, finishing her task before walking out of the room, leaving him alone with this stranger. He has a few more hours before he needs to leave, so he sits back and waits once more. He waits and waits until his wings are aching from where they’re pressed against the back of the chair.

He waits until a subtle movement catches his eye, head jerking up just in time to see those pale eyelids flicker open.

He slowly stands up and makes his way towards the bed, not pressing the call button quite yet. The second he’s in her line of sight, the girl’s eyes widen in an expression he can’t quite understand. Her skin doesn’t seem as pale, and the shaking has died down, so he lets himself relax a little as he waits.

“Birdy?” He nods, stretching out his wings ever so slightly, watching as her eyes track the movement.

“Pretty.” He almost wants to smile, but not enough to actually drop his guard. Instead, he shakes his wings ever so slightly before taking one more step forwards so he’s right up against the bed.

“Do you feel a little better?” She jerks a little at that, blinking up at him with confusion laced in her expression. He waits, and waits, until she looks down at her body and takes in the situation.

“I... I think so?” He nods, glancing at the call button before looking back at the patient.

“Would you be okay with my calling the nurse?” She tenses a little, and for a second, he’s worried he messed up. An aversion to doctors isn’t abnormal in these parts of the world, which sucks but isn’t all that surprising. It would make sense that someone with a blood based quirk wouldn’t get the best treatment in a regular hospital. Especially the cheap ones most people with ‘villainous’ quirks are sent to.

But instead of fear, she looks up with even more confusion than before.

“Uh... I guess?” It almost sounds like a question, but he doesn’t push for details, leaning forwards and pressing the call button with a quiet sigh. When the light flashes on, he straightens back up and looks down where the girl is poking at the blanket with what could only be described as curiosity.

She mutters something under her breath, and he can barely catch it even with his enhanced hearing, but he does.

‘Didn’t know blankets could be so soft.’ The words threaten to pull up the anger once more, but he pushes it down with great effort. It’s not a time to get angry, it’s a time to be present.

It takes a couple minutes for the nurse to return, but the second she walks in she jumps into her work without delay. She’s soft and kind, small smiles and gentle touches as she asks how the girl is doing and if anything hurts. Then it’s questions about her history and all sorts of things even Izuku hadn’t thought of.

The girls name is Himiko Toga, and she seems to love mutation quirks because she’s absolutely enthralled by the nurse’s abundance of arms. She’s fourteen years old, one year older than Izuku, but her growth has been stunted by malnourishment and stress. It’s been a few months since she ran away, and she hasn’t really had much to eat or drink in that whole time.

Izuku wants to find the Toga family and burn their house down when he hears about how they refused to let her drink blood, about how they called her a freak and a monster. He pushes down that anger for what feels like the hundredth time, sticking close as Toga smiles up at them like she’s as happy as can be.

“There, you should be all good. I would like to keep you here for a couple days if you’re okay with that, but you can always leave and come back later if you want. We won’t force you to stay, okay?” Toga smiles up at her, cuddling up in the blanket that Izuku knows for sure can’t be all that soft.

“I’ll stay! It’s warm in here. I like being warm.” The nurse smiles and nods before grabbing a clipboard and jotting down a few lines.

“Wonderful. Just take it easy and I’ll be right back.” Izuku watches as the nurse leaves and as Toga snuggles down into the sheets.

He watches until his watch starts buzzing on his wrist, eyes looking down at the alarm telling him it’s time to go home. When he looks back up, Toga is looking up at him with a sad smile.

“You need to leave?” He feels a sliver of sympathy enter his chest at the realization that she expected him to leave. It makes him want to stay, but that isn’t an option, not right now.

“Yes, but I’ll be back tomorrow.” Her smile disappears with that, replaced by a look of surprise as she stares up at him with wide eyes. He waits until that surprise melts into a joy, eyes crinkling at the edges as she smiles up at him.

“Thank you.”

Yes, he’ll be back tomorrow. He’ll be back, and everything will be okay.

He does come back the day after. And the day after. Each time he visits, he discovers something new. At first, it’s just medical information. Results of scans and updates on bloodwork. Toga isn’t sick, but she isn’t healthy. Her mind has already been altered in a way they can’t fix, her body a mess of chronic pain and old injuries.

It’s really hard, not sicking the police on her parents, but there’s no proof and the chance that they’d arrest Himiko instead of her parents is far too high. The way she talks about injuries, the way she talks about how pretty people would look all bloodied and bruised, it doesn’t help her case.

No one here cares about that. They’ve treated those far worse in the past, and they will treat those far worse in the future. They take her violent tendencies in stride, and he regularly comes in with unhealed injuries because the way her eyes light up helps calm something in his chest.

They get her blood bags and let her drink them like a smoothy. They teach her about the dangers of drinking blood straight from the source, but they don’t hide the details from her. She has a higher immunity to blood born diseases, which means drinking from others is okay in a cinch, though it’s always better to drink from blood bags.

Izuku watches as her skin regains color, as the tremors disappear, as each treatment does its job. He watches until she’s being handed discharge papers and a prescription card she’s supposed to give to a local charity that gives out blood bags to those with referrals.

He’s there when she leaves the hospital. She doesn’t have anywhere to go, so he gives her options. He knows far more about her now than that first night. He knows who her parents are, knows that they haven’t gone to the police with a missing person’s statement despite the fact that their daughter is very much missing.

He knows that she’s killed a long list of people, and that every single one had a history of violence themselves. He knows that the police won’t help her, that society doesn’t want her, that she’s all alone in this world. And, well, he knows one other person like that and he can’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, they might get along.

So yes, he gives her options. He can find her a place to stay, an abandoned building, a tent under a bridge. Or, she can stay at a house only three people know about. A house with a heater and two beds, with soft sheets and softer pillows. Before she can answer, he tells her about the one person who already frequents that house, and how they’re oh so similar to her, but also that he doesn’t know their history.

She doesn’t hesitate, jumping up and down and asking to stay at his house with a wide smile. Once again, the pure joy on her face tries to drag a smile onto his face. He pushes it down seconds before it slips out, looking away and starting the walk to a place almost as familiar as his own home.

Dabi isn’t there when they arrive, the house still and silent as he shows her around. The room he gives her is bare and minimal, but the sheets are soft and the pillows he bought beforehand are softer. He offers to buy her decor and anything else she may desire, and she looks at him like he hung the moon.

A few days later, Dabi shows up in his fancy fireproof suit, and stares at Toga in surprise. She’s hiding behind Izuku like a scared puppy, peaking out to look at the fire user with wide eyes until Izuku introduces them and forces her to come out. Dabi is surprisingly okay with it, if not a bit rough with his greeting.

They end up sitting in the living room together as Dabi peels off his suit, the sturdy fabric revealing scars that look far healthier than the first time Izuku saw them. Toga doesn’t ask questions, even though Izuku can tell that she has them, but she does stare. She stares until Dabi turns and glares at her with those strangely familiar blue eyes.

Izuku ignores the familiarity as he has every time before, staying in place to make sure nothing happens, to make sure these two won’t go at eachother like the killers they are.

He waits until his watch buzzes once more, eyes glancing down at the alarm before looking up and pausing when he sees two pairs of eyes staring at him with strange expressions. He doesn’t know what that expression is, but they both have it. It’s... well, strange.

He doesn’t think about it though, standing up and grabbing his bag without a second glance. Toga follows him, and so does Dabi despite the fact that he’s only wearing skin tight shorts, chest and legs bare to the world. No one points it out, silence ringing through the air as Izuku packs up and walks towards the door.

“Don’t kill eachother while I’m gone, okay?” Their expressions don’t change, but they glance at eachother and nod, which is good enough. He doesn’t say anything else, stepping out into the night air and taking off into the sky.

For the next three months, he flies back to the house as often as he possibly can. Toga and Dabi do get along, just like he thought they would. Dabi treats her like a little sister, in a way that implies he’s actually had siblings before. Izuku’s not sure if that’s the case, but it’s nice to see him relax a little.

Toga seems happy. Her room is full of yellow and pink and her clothes are soft and warm, all purchased from Izuku’s exorbitant paycheck. After the first month, she starts declining his gifts, which is understandable. Maybe he should have gone slower, eased her into it, but he won’t push now that she’s created a boundary.

During the second month, he actually spars with her a few times. She’s fast and strong and knows how to fight, which surprises him a little, but all he can feel is relief that he won’t need to worry about her if she ever decides to leave.

During the third month, he starts visiting less and less. She seems a little sad when he does come, but he’s not sure why. He asks her, and she says that everything’s fine, that Dabi is helping her with stuff. He nods and continues to help her complete the homework he gave her.

When month three ends, he sits down with Dabi and gives him a list of things Toga needs. From blood to how to use the curriculum, he shows him everything. Dabi also seems sad, but Izuku doesn’t ask why. If Dabi has something to say, then he’ll say it. That’s how it is.

Right now, Izuku needs to focus. He needs to focus and work his ass off until Kousei is gone and preferably dead.

It will be fine. He’ll be back before either of them even begin to miss him.

It will be fine. He’ll make sure of it.

Chapter Text

Izuku wakes up slowly this time, body inching towards awareness bit by bit, limbs strewn all over the place in awkward angles, an ache in his joints that sits in the background through it all. Everything slowly builds until he’s finally able to open his eyes, brain fog keeping him from focusing on anything other than the annoying pain he can’t help but notice. 

His first action is a simple one, simple enough that he doesn’t even need to consciously decide to do it. That action is, of course, to release the floodgates and spread warmth through his whole body, heat chasing away the steady ache until all the tension is gone, body lax against the sheets as he lets himself move slow. 

His second action is to ruin all that progress by quite literally jolting awake, body jerking forwards until he’s staring at the wall instead of the ceiling. All the calm thoughts and gentle warmth is gone, replaced by shock and an unpleasant chill that sinks into his skin. 

Toga. 

He forgot about Toga. 

Okay, forgot is a strong word. He hasn’t thought about the time they met in a while, but he occasionally writes her letters and leaves her gifts. The important thing is that he hasn’t gone to visit her like he promised himself he would. It’s not horrible, because he didn’t actually promise her, but it’s still pretty bad. 

Now, it makes sense that he didn’t think about her yesterday. Dabi and Shigaraki are both villains who don’t care about killing innocents. Toga on the other hand, stopped killing almost entirely once treatment was administered. She might go around and beat people up and occasionally, very occasionally, drink their blood, but she doesn’t kill for the sake of killing. 

He’s decided to do his best to take down Shigaraki, and he’s willing to give up something about Dabi if necessary, but like hell is he going to do anything that might endanger Toga. He knows what prison is like for people like her, and he’s not going to let that happen. He just isn’t. 

So yes, it makes sense that he didn’t think about her yesterday. Jin, on the other hand...

No, there’s no reason to tell everyone about him. It was a random meeting with barely any exchange of information. Even if he wanted to tell Aizawa about the strange man he met in a dark alley over a year ago, well, he wouldn’t really have anything to tell him. He learned nothing, and a gut feeling isn’t enough to go off of when you’re an actual professional. 

Yeah, no point in going down that route. For now, he’ll just make a plan to visit Toga and take his notes to the meeting he has this afternoon. That’ll be enough. And if they have questions? Well, he doesn’t need to answer all of them.

“Record start, one o two pm Musutafu Police department, Detective Tsukauchi and the Pro Hero Eraserhead here to question Midoriya Izuku. Midoriya, do you consent to being questioned without parental supervision?” Izuku pauses, looking down at the small recording device with his bag halfway to the floor. 

Aizawa is standing in the corner of the room, staring at him with a strange expression, bandages covering his limbs. The only part of him not wrapped in white is his face, and Izuku can’t help but feel relieved that his eyes weren’t affected. 

“Uh... sure, yeah.” He lets his bag fall the remaining inches before sitting up straight and staring at the detective. A sliver of déjà vu slips in through the cracks, reminding him of the first time he sat in this room with these people standing in this exact place. 

Tsukauchi doesn’t let the silence stretch this time, picking up a pencil and flipping open the notebook he brought in with him only a few minutes earlier. 

“Perfect, thank you. Now, let’s get started.” Izuku continues to watch the detective, ready for whatever questions he may have despite the fact that he honestly has no idea why he’s here. It’s possible that they just want his statement, but this is a lot of effort to accomplish something they could have done over the phone. 

Whatever, at least he’ll be able to hand over his notes in person. 

“Okay, first question. Aizawa Shota, the pro hero Eraserhead, stated that you appeared to know something was about to happen minutes before the attack started. Did you or did you not know that the attack was taking place?” Oh, that’s what this is about. Okay, he can deal with that. 

“No, I did not know what was about to happen.” Tsukauchi doesn’t flinch, curiosity written all over his face, lips twitching at the edges as though resisting a smile. 

“But you did know that something was going to happen.” Aizawa is still staring at him with that same strange expression, still standing in the corner of the room as though they’re preparing for a good cop bad cop interrogation. It’s kind of funny, but Izuku doesn’t have the energy to care. 

“Yes.” Tsukauchi nods and writes something down in his notebook before moving on.

“How did you conclude that something was about to happen?” Okay, not a question he wants to answer, but he needs to stay in their good graces if he wants them to listen to him about Shigaraki. They’ll believe him, thanks to the detective’s very interesting quirk, but listen to him? That’s another question. 

“My quirk gives me a sixth sense when a bad thing is about to happen. It has activated when in relation to unexpected danger multiple times in the past.” He stops there, not bothering to clarify what the sense manifests as. Aizawa has probably connected the dots to his unusual actions during the day, so no need to explain what doesn’t need explaining.

“How long before the attack did this sense of yours activate?”

“When I woke up that morning.” Tsukauchi pauses at that, looking up at him in surprise, like he was expecting a different answer.

“And was there a reason you didn’t think to alert your teachers?” Ah, understandable.

“Because until now it only activated when I alone was in trouble, not others.” Granted, the attack was dangerous for him as well, so that might still be the case. Either way, it’s once again not what Tsukauchi expected, the surprise on his face shifting to confusion as though Izuku said something strange. 

“Are you saying you didn’t ask for help simply because you assumed you’d be the only one in danger?”

...

“Yes?” That’s a strange question to ask. Like, it’s not his teacher’s job to protect him. That’s his job, and it’s been his job for years. But both his teacher and the detective suddenly look concerned, glancing at eachother before turning back to Izuku like he just said something alarming.

“Is there a reason you didn’t deem outside help necessary?” Isn’t that... obvious?

“I can handle myself. I’ll survive the encounter either way, so no need to bring others into it.” It’s the truth, but the concern on their faces strengthens and he’s really confused as to why. Is he wrong? Is there something else he was supposed to do? 

Either way, the idea of being asked any more questions about his stupid quirk makes something in his chest curl up in disgust. They must notice, because Tsukauchi shakes his head and writes something down in his notebook before looking back up with a small smile.

“Okay, moving on. In the future, are you willing to let others know when your quirk tells you something is wrong? Just in case it ends up effecting those around you?” Yes, okay, good. He can do that. 

“Sure. Just in case.” Tsukauchi smiles at him, a soft thing that feels wrong. All he did was promise not to fuck up again. That shouldn’t earn a smile. 

“Thank you. Now, for the next part. We aren’t accusing you of anything, we’re just covering all our bases. You don’t need to answer if you don’t want to. Got it?” Izuku almost tilts his head to the side, catching it at the last second and forcing it to stay straight. 

Yes, this is strange, no, it’s not a big deal. 

“Yes, sir.” Tsukauchi smiles and writes yet another line in his notebook. 

“Good, good. Now, do you or have you ever leaked sensitive information to the League of villains?” Wait what?

“No.”

“Are you or are you not a member of the League of Villains?”

“No.” Do they suspect a mole?

“Have you ever assisted the League of villains with any of their crimes?”

“No.” That... would be bad.

“Are you planning on helping or joining the League of Villains any time in the future?” 

“No.” But it makes sense. How else would they have accessed all that information?

Wait, during the break in... that memory he pushed down during the attack. Shigaraki dusted the gate and got inside. Yes, that’s what happened. But he would have needed help once he got in though, would have needed a guide to where they kept class schedules. 

Yes, a mole. 

Yeah, not good. 

“Wonderful. Thank you for this Midoriya. For the record-“ Izuku snaps out of his sudden realization, hand jerking up and a startled ‘ah’ slipping from his lips before he can stop himself. 

Tsukauchi stops, looking up from where he was reaching for the recorder. 

“...yes?” Izuku pauses, blinking down at said recorder before forcing his hand down and talking. 

“Actually, I’d like to do this off the record.” That gets him two confused looks, but he really doesn’t care as long as he gets this done. 

“Uh... sure. For the record, Midoriya Izuku has not lied at any time during this inquisition. End log.” The recorder cuts off with a click, carefully slid off the table and into Tsukauchi’s pocket while Eraserhead finally leaves his corner and walks over to the table with a chair.

“Let me guess, you know more about these villains than you should.” Izuku tenses, glancing at Aizawa who looks far too smug. Tsukauchi glares at his partner for a solid five seconds, and Izuku can’t help but wonder if one of them just lost a bet. 

“Uh, yes?” Tsukauchi sighs and looks back at him, a tired smile on his face. Aizawa is still staring at him with that smug expression, but Izuku doesn’t really care all that much. 

“Yes, well, we’ll take whatever information you’re willing to give.” He even sounds tired. Poor detective. 

But that’s not important right now. He needs to focus on this, give them everything he possibly can with the time he’s been given. 

It’s still nice to see the smug expression on Aizawa’s face switch to surprise when he drops two notebooks and a binder onto the table with a thump. Very nice. 

“I have information on seven villains, including Shigaraki Tomura. Is now a good time to give it to you?” He looks up after nudging his items into their proper order, relaxing his face so he can smile ever so slightly. 

That alone must be shocking, because both Tsukauchi and Aizawa are staring at him with twin expressions of shock on their faces. Silence rings through the room for a second as he waits for a response, four eyes blinking at him like he just did something crazy.

He doesn’t push, waiting for them to come to him, waiting until they both clear their throats and sit up straight like the proper adults they’re supposed to be.

“Uh... sure.” Izuku lets the smile on his face vanish, relaxing once more and reaching for the first notebook.

“Wonderful. Let me begin three years ago, when I first started working for Kousei.”

And so it starts.

It takes almost two hours to go through everything. The myriad of expressions his information earned was quite satisfying, and the questions they asked actually helped him remember some of the smaller details. They asked him why he didn’t talk about this sooner, and he didn’t lie. 

It’s simple. He forgot. 

Tsukauchi looked rather confused when he said that, but didn’t ask questions so the words must have rung true. He wasn’t lying. He genuinely pushed down his past in an attempt to handle the mental load of the future, and he succeed in his effort to an extreme degree. 

Did he do the wrong thing? He can’t be sure, but he’s fixing whatever mistakes he made so it should be fine. 

Either way, they have the information now. His notebooks are in safe hands, hands that shook ever so slightly while taking them. They should be able to do something with all those notes, so he has no dilemma with handing them over. He has no need for those notes now that they’ve been completed. He has no need for information that he can remember on his own. 

Stepping out of the police office is a relief, body soaking in the unusual warmth as he tilts his head back and takes a deep breath. For spring, it’s unusually perfect outside, just what he needed to recover from that arduous conversation. 

For a few minutes, he stays there, standing in front of the police station, letting the sun replenish his energy. Those few minutes pass quickly, wings itching to carry him off into the sky. He doesn’t protest, stretching them out until the flight feathers are ruffling in the calm wind. 

It doesn’t take much to lift off the ground, wings strong and deft in their purpose. One beat and his feet are off the ground, two and he’s up in the sky. He goes up up up until the sun is beating on his skin with a vengeance, no longer blocked by the shadows of tall buildings. 

The flight home helps, the tension seeping out of his body as he lets himself smile and fly. It’s exactly what he needed, a way to reset so he can focus on the future once more. He’s spent long enough searching his memories. He won’t push them down anymore, but he won’t go out of his way to sort through them. 

He did that, and it drained every ounce of his energy in a matter of days. There’s nothing left to search for, no more memories he wants to remember. He’s done. 

He’s finally done. 

It doesn’t take long to get home, wings bringing him to a sudden stop as he stares down at the house with a sliver of disappointment in his chest. It takes a second to realize that no one is forcing him to land, that he can continue flying despite his arrival. Yes, that’s a thing he can do. 

So, he lowers himself ever so slightly before dropping his bag onto his balcony and immediately rocketing off into the sky. Not for long, just a short flight, just a little reward for everything he did this week despite the pain in his chest and the paranoia that’s been slowly dragging him to the end. 

Yes, just for a little while. 

Of course, if that little while ends up taking almost two hours of his time, well, that’s an issue for future Izuku. 

Monday morning starts the new week, an email in everyone’s inbox from the day before telling them that they are to return to school as long as they are able. There’s no telling what members of Class 1A are going to come back, seeing as the email lists psychological distress as a valid option for skipping. 

But Izuku isn’t surprised when the bell rings and every single student is in their seats. 

They’re all chatting, wondering who their substitute teacher is, surprisingly active for a bunch of traumatized teenagers. Of course, there is no substitute teacher, seeing as Aizawa is perfectly capable of walking, which means no force on earth will be able to stop him from coming in. At least, that’s Izuku’s assumption.

Sure enough, five seconds later, every kid in class shuts up with impressive speed when Aizawa Sensei walks into the room with everything but his face wrapped up like a mummy. They must be doing daily treatment because he looks somewhat better than he did at the police station, look a little less likely to collapse onto the closest chair.

The room is perfectly silent for a few seconds, sharp eyes looking over the students with a subtle glare as though daring anyone to ask if he should be here. They’re all smart enough to stay quiet. Well, either smart enough or scared enough, but Aizawa will likely accept either. 

“Good morning class. Welcome back.” His tone is low and lined with a dangerous edge that keeps the room silent, not at all welcoming like the words might imply. Izuku almost wants to laugh, watching as Aizawa continues to keep the class silent with his gaze. 

“Now, let’s get into it.” He can almost feel the way everyone tenses, holding down a smile and watching his teacher closely. 

“Since you’re all here, I may as well tell you everything. You see, your fight’s not over yet.” This time even Izuku tenses, mind flying back to the images of blood soaked dirt as his teacher laid limp in his arms. His eyes slip closed for a second, pushing away the images because no, that’s not what Aizawa is talking about. 

“The U.A. sports festival has not been canceled.” The silence that comes after those words is different. It’s not fear, not well hidden excitement. No, it’s shock and confusion and badly hidden expressions that say ‘Whose idea was this?’ 

“Uh, isn’t that a bad idea? To do something like that so soon after a villain attack?” Aizawa looks at Jiro with tired eyes, like he’s had this conversation a million times. Izuku has a feeling that he wasn’t on the explaining side of those conversations.

“Apparently they think of it as UA showing that our crisis management system is solid as a rock by holding the event. Security will also be strengthened to five times that of previous years. But we were able to push it back a little, to help preparations. One month. We have one month before the festivities begin.” 

That seems to be enough for most of the class, though there are a few who still look apprehensive of the whole thing. Izuku is one of them, even if he doesn’t show it. It was never his intention to take part in the disgusting competition, and it still isn’t. There’s almost nothing that could get him in that ring. 

But most of this class will take part, despite their hesitance. That alone is enough to make him worried. There’s more at stake here than a villain attack. Taking part in the sports festival means showcasing your quirk for the world to see, and that’s bad even in normal circumstances.

These are not normal circumstances. 

If the police fail to fix the issue, this class may face a villain attack once more, and if the villains know their quirks? Their weaknesses? 

Yes, not normal circumstances indeed. 

It isn’t until the bell rings that Izuku notices the fact that he was zoned out, gaze flickering up at the last second and body freezing in place when he immediately locks eyes with his teacher. Aizawa isn’t glaring at him, isn’t silently chastising him for not focusing. No he’s looking at him with a sad understanding. 

That confirms his suspicion, confirms the fact that their homeroom teacher fought tooth and nail against this decision. It’s no surprise that he only managed to delay it, for even that was simply delaying the inevitable. And it wasn’t because of the students. It wasn’t because of publicity. 

It was because of the money, plain and simple. UA receives a massive amount of its funding from the revenue of these festivals, and that alone was enough for them to push safety to the side. 

Aizawa leaves the room with exhaustion written on his face, leaving Izuku alone in a room full of people who will forget about the safety issues in only a few days. It’s almost a guarantee that the promise of publicity and fame will overcome their fear, because it happens every time.

 Classes pass by quickly after that, and it takes a ridiculous amount of effort to stay focused. He writes notes, answers questions, and tries to ignore the pressure on his chest and the anger in his heart. It’s not his job to fix this school, and even if it was, there’s nothing he can do about this. 

It’s better to ignore everything and try to keep on living. If he snaps and yells and claws every time something pisses him off, his life would be chalked full of anger and hatred, and he doesn’t want to live like that. There’s nothing he can do, which means there’s no point in acting out. 

When the lunch bell rings, it takes him a few seconds to notice. Their teacher leaves, and his class starts standing up, and he’s still sitting on his stool with a notebook open on his table. He doesn’t bother packing up quite yet, waiting for the room to empty, silently motioning for Ochaco to go ahead when she looks at him with concern written all over her face. 

He watches her go, and only then does he notice the commotion by the entrance. 

Kirishima is in the front, talking to someone with a confused tone, unable to leave for some reason. At first, all he hears is a multitude of words trickling past the wall of students trying to get out, but then a louder voice cuts through the rabble, clear enough for him to hear. 

“Why if it isn’t class 1A! The group of weaklings that had the sports festival pushed back a whole month!” That alone makes him tense, pencil snapping in his grip as he takes in the hostility dripping from those words. 

“Honestly, what’s the big deal!? They faced villains, so what!? It’s not like they’re better than us, so weak they probably did nothing but get in the way of our splendid teachers!” That’s enough to make him jerk to his feet, walking towards the entrance with anger bubbling up his throat. 

He was already angry, but this? This is more than he can push down right now. 

It doesn’t take much to get to the entrance seeing as his whole class takes one look at him and immediately parts like the dead sea. When he can finally see the child spouting nonsense about his class, his first thought is that it wouldn’t be a very hard fight. 

But no, he’s not allowed to fight outside of regulated matches. That would break his contract. 

Instead he stops, staring at the boy with sharp eyes and sharper talons, waiting for their audience to go silent. They do, and they do so fast, staring at him with nervous expressions. Even the boy looks a little nervous, but only a little. 

Not enough. 

For a second, he lets the room stew in the silence, makes them think about what they’re doing, and right before the boy goes to speak again, Izuku cuts him off. 

“Have you ever had to kill someone before?” That makes the mood shift instantly, his audience tensing, eyes going wide. It’s not what they expected, which was exactly the point.

 “Ha! What kind of question is that!?” The boy speaks with a tone that betrays his feelings, words meant to be cocky but ending up nothing more than nervous babble. 

“You see, when you’re fighting villains, when you’re facing people who want to kill you, you don’t really have a choice.” No one speaks this time, staring at him with rapt attention. 

“The panic, the fear, the single minded focus as you fight to live another day. That doesn’t leave room for worrying about your enemy. And then you stop, and you breathe, and for a few seconds all you can think about is the fact that you got out alive.

But that’s not the end. 

Because as soon as those thoughts go quiet, as soon as the adrenaline fades, you remember. You remember every time you might have hit too hard, every time you might have kicked too high, every time you didn’t hold back because neither did they. You remember that, and you wonder. Did those villains get back up? Did those villains last until the medics arrived?”

The unease of his audience seeps into the walls, the wide eyes and open mouths telling him all he needs to know. 

“I remember fighting, I remember the sound of skulls cracking as they hit the floor. I remember that, and I don’t know which of those people got up and walked away.” A few people look about ready to cry, staring at him like he’s some vengeful spirit come back from the dead.

“So yes, that’s a legitimate question. Have you ever had to kill someone? Have you ever been so caught up in surviving that you forgot to hold back? Because we have. I hope you remember that the next time you try to crowd a group survivors, the next time you try to push people like us to the limit. I hope you remember that, and choose to walk away.”

This time, when silence falls, no one breaks it. Izuku doesn’t bother going back to grab his bag, simply relaxing and walking out of the exit. The crowd parts without a word, lets him leave without protest. He walks through, and at the last second, glances to the side and notices a familiar face. 

That doesn’t make him pause, though. Instead, he keeps on walking, focused on leaving before he snaps any further.

The cafeteria is surprisingly quiet, though not entirely so. It’s quite enough for him to stay, quiet enough for him to join Ochaco at the table she frequents. So does Yayorozu and Tsu and Iida, but he doesn’t complain. They look at him with a subtle gratitude in their gaze, and it helps calm the remaining embers in his lungs. 

There’s still a pressure on his chest, but it’s easy enough to ignore now that he’s in a better headspace. The food is good, and the hall stays decently quiet, so the anger doesn’t come back even after he makes his way to the support course classroom.

Power loader is waiting for him, ready with a pile of papers and a letter he hands over with a smile. Izuku looks down at the envelope in confusion, opening it slowly, paper ripping under his talons. The first time he tries to read the contents, he’s not sure what he’s looking at, but then his teacher points at a few spots written in bold and his eyes widen in surprise.

The knife! He almost forgot about it in all the chaos. He rereads the result, and then rereads it again, making sure he’s understanding the words that are chocked full of technical babel and legal jargon. 

Yes, there’s no doubt about it. They officially have permission to make Izuku’s very first weapon!

Throughout the lesson, he can’t help but glance down at the letter every few minutes, lips twitching at the corners as he lets himself forget everything that happened before lunch. Power Loaders lesson helps as well, keeping him focused on the now as he solders wires and writes notes. 

Even as he works and learns, part of him is buzzing with excitement, hoping Hatsume will be willing to get started on the knife instead of going back to her seemingly endless list of support equipment. The equipment she’ll be using in the sports festival. 

The second that thought pops up, he pushes it down and goes back to focusing on the lesson, drawing a picture in his notebook as he listens to Power Loader talk about different types of tools. He can think about that later, when he’s less likely to showcase his immunity to hot objects.

When the bell rings, his first reaction is a sliver of annoyance, but then he remembers the knife and he can’t stop himself from looking up at the door in anticipation. Of course, it takes a few minutes for the door to open, but Power Loader doesn’t comment so neither will Izuku. 

As per usual, Hatsume enters first, a massive smile stretched across her face as she hops towards him with a pep in her step. Her clothes are momentarily clean and her bag is still covered in singe marks, a familiar face that, for some reason, releases a tension in his chest he wasn’t aware existed. 

He ignores it, not ready to analyze whatever that means, but he lets himself relax ever so slightly. She hops straight to him, not stopping once on the way, door swinging closed behind her because of course she would bolt here faster than any of her classmates. 

When she reaches her desk, he stands up from his stool and attempts to open his mouth and speak, but he isn’t able to get a single word out before two strong arms are pulling him in for a hug. He freezes in place, feathers puffing up ever so slightly in surprise as she squeezes him within an inch of his life. 

It’s kind of hard to breathe, and that pressure in his chest starts to verge on the edge of pain as he waits, but it calms back down the second she lets go and takes a step back. 

“No more getting injured in villain attacks, okay?” That makes him blink, wondering how she knew that he was the one who got injured. It doesn’t really matter though, so he just looks down at her and lets a small smile slip on his face.

“Yes ma’am.” The smile on her face grows, hand reaching up to ruffle his hair before moving to her side of the table with her giant bag, ready to get started as the door finally opens once more and her classmates start pouring in. 

“Okay freckles! What was it you wanted to tell me?” For someone so often lost in her own world, she can be rather insightful when she wants to be. He’ll take not having to vie for her attention, though.

Instead of speaking, Izuku just picks up the letter and hands it over, a different kind of smile pulling at the edges of his lips. She takes one look at the paper, and her eyes go wide, smile spreading until it looks nearly painful, hands clapping as she hops up and down. 

“We got it! We got it!” She snatches the paper out of his hand and opens it quickly, scanning the jargon for only a few seconds before lifting both hands above her head and squealing in joy.

“We got the green light! Your first project!!! Hey everyone, my partner got his first project accepted.” What was left of his smile disappears after that, replaced by a blank expression now that the whole class is looking their way. But instead of nodding and going back to their work like usual, almost the whole class starts clapping with giant smiles on their faces. 

“Congrats rookie!” “Way to go!” “Can’t wait to see it!” Everyone is looking at him with a myriad of expressions, all seemingly excited to see him make this step. 

Despite the way he’d rather be anywhere but here right now, something about their joy leaves a warm feeling in his chest. It’s... nice.

And when the room goes back to its usual blanket noise, he lets one last smile slip on his lips, just for a few seconds before focusing on the task at hand. 

Hatsume spends about ten minutes explaining how he’s going to start the project before taking a step back and telling him that it’s his project, and that he’ll be working on it by himself. Of course, she’s willing to help when he needs it, but he’s mostly on his own. 

His next forty minutes are spent going through the slow process of researching everything he will need. From materials to tools, each available item is listed on the tablet Power Loader has by his desk. Izuku practically camps out right next to his teacher, not wanting to take the Tablet back to their table because apparently Hatsume has broken it three times already. 

It’s week three, and they didn’t even finish week two. Yeah, he’ll stay up here. 

Class ends with him emailing himself a list of everything he needs, and then he glances at a focused Hatsume and leaves without a word. 

Heroics is easy. 

He was actually fairly certain he would have to abstain from whatever combat exercise they created, but then All Might opens a power point presentation on strategy and his interest is piqued and he makes the decision stick around. It’s not quite as interesting as he hoped, but it also isn’t as boring as he expected, so in the end he decides it was worth the small amount of energy expended. 

But then he walks into the locker room and everything from earlier comes flooding back as his classmates talk about how annoying the crowd was and how it was good that the sports festival was postponed. 

It’s during this time that a memory pops up, an image from earlier that day. 

He thinks about it as he flies home, thinks about it as he digs in to his homework and tries to ignore the way his skin crawls. He thinks about it all evening, even through dinner, ending up in his bed staring at the wall as he wonders.

The image in his head stays there, Shinsou Hitoshi staring at him with poorly suppressed horror, face almost hidden in the crowd of people stepping out of his way. Shinsou Hitoshi, who wants to be a hero. Shinsou Hitoshi, who wants to be an underground hero. 

Shinsou Hitoshi, whose only path is to try his best in the sports festival and hope no one remembers his quirk when he becomes the hero he wants to be. 

Izuku knows for a fact that the sports festival is extra dangerous for people like him. Eraserhead is frequently recognized because of that publicity, and it definitely makes his work just that much more dangerous. Izuku doesn’t want that to happen to this kid, even more so than the idiots in his class who still think being a hero is seventy percent publicity. 

He tries to think of an alternative, a way to get around that rule, but he can only come up with one thing and god he really doesn’t want to do that. 

He’ll think about it some more, and if there’s no other option... 

Well, he never wanted to be a hero, anyway.

Chapter Text

“Do you want to fight in the sports festival?”

Shinsou jerks, nearly dropping the heavy weight in his grip as he spins around to face whoever snuck up on him. The momentary fear dissipates when he’s faced with a familiar figure, white hair and green eyes staring at him with a perfectly blank expression.

When his heart rate finally calms down, his second reaction is a sudden wave of relief. He saw Izuku while standing in that crowd, but it didn’t register the same way as right now. 

The fear he felt after learning that Izuku was in a villain fight, the panic that sat in his chest when he realized that Izuku was probably the only majorly injured student, it’s all sitting under the surface waiting for him to crack under the pressure. This is good, being able to look into his eyes. 

But then the words catch up to him and the relief is pushed to the side, making way for confusion. 

“Of course I do. You know I want to be a hero, why wouldn’t I take that chance?” Izuku blinks at him, and Shinsou uses the momentary silence to put down the weights so he doesn’t accidentally drop them on his foot or something equally painful.

“Yes, but if you could get into the hero course without taking part in the festival, would you prefer that?” That question makes him pause, makes him think. He remembers yesterday morning, Mic Sensei telling them that the sports festival was postponed. He remembers freaking out because each week that passes is just more time spent falling behind. 

He wants to become a hero, and he’s willing to do anything if it means reaching that goal, but Izuku’s reminding him of the one thing that made him hesitate. The festival, it’s one of the most attended events in all of Japan, which means a lot of eyes watching him use his quirk. 

If he slips up, if he showcase the activation requirement, then it could mean major issues if a villain recognizes him out in the wild. He’s forced himself to ignore that, but if there was another way... 

“Yeah, that would be nice. Why?” No point in spilling

his guts out and begging for a path that might not exist.

Izuku doesn’t speak for a second, but then he suddenly lets out a heavy sigh and slumps every so slightly. Shinsou watches in surprise as his teacher actually shows emotion, shows the resignation that must have been plaguing him for quite a while if it’s able to slip out like that.

“Okay, I’ll get you in.” And then, Izuku walks away, leaving Shinsou staring at red wings as he tries very hard to understand what that means. Get him in? Could he really mean he’s going to somehow get him into the heroics course without taking part in the sports festival? How on earth would he do that?!

Of course, Izuku is gone before he can actually ask a question, door swinging closed as Shinsou tries very hard not to chase after him. 

Could there actually be a chance that he’ll be a hero student without taking part in that god awful festival?

...

After a few seconds of just standing there in silence, he shakes his head and turns back towards the weights. It’s highly unlikely that anything like that will happen. There’s no point in getting excited about something that very well may never occur. Yes, he’ll focus on getting stronger and preparing for whatever he may need to do. 

If that’s fighting in the festival, he’ll do that. And if it means proving himself to whoever finds him interesting, he’ll do that as well. 

He’s going to become a hero, no matter what it takes. 

____________

Izuku doesn’t want to do this.

He should be ignoring All Might’s stupid lesson right now, should be getting ready for an elective he doesn’t want to do. He should be doing anything but playing hooky and walking to an office he really doesn’t want to be in. 

But he has a plan, and this is the only way to accomplish it. 

When he reaches Nezu’s office, the door swings open without so much as a knock as per usual, and he steps inside without a word. Nezu is sitting there, waiting for him with excitement written all over his face.

Of course he’d be excited. Of course he’d know exactly what Izuku is about to do. 

“Why hello my wonderful pupil! Come, sit, Eraserhead is on the way.” See? He knows what’s about to happen, and he couldn’t be happier. It’s written all over his face, after all. 

“Okay.” The second he’s seated on the stool, Nezu pushes a cup of tea and a small plate of cookies across the table with that same wide smile that has a little bit too much teeth. They’re the good cookies though, and the tea is just right, so there’s no point in turning them down. 

Just a small sip helps, as hot as the cup can handle, which proves that Nezu also knows the one thing he tried to keep a secret. There was no question that the secret would come unraveled before long, but it’s still a little off putting to realize. There’s nearly nothing Nezu can’t figure out, and Izuku is one of them. 

The wait isn’t all that long, door opening with the press of a button before Aizawa walks in with exhaustion written all over his face. He looks so done with everything, and Izuku can’t help but feel bad that this plan will only put more work on his shoulders. 

“Shota! Come in, come in. I promise this will be interesting.” All that gets them is a glare, not a single word spoken as he walks into the room and plops down onto the chair next to Izuku’s stool. 

“Okay, what do you want.” He says it with so much aggravation in his tone, it almost makes Izuku nervous, but only almost. Despite the exhaustion and aggravation, Izuku knows Aizawa lives for molding wannabe heroes into the correct shape before they fly the nest. He may not be a heroics teacher, but he may as well be with how often he sits in on lessons. 

Yes, Shinsou is the exact type of student Aizawa loves teaching, and Izuku’s about to hand him over on a silver platter. 

“Young Midoriya here has a proposal for us, and I do believe you will find it very interesting.” Thankfully, the look he gets for that isn’t one of hostility, but of hesitant curiosity, like he’s not sure if this will actually be interesting or not. Izuku knows it’s not because he’s unsure of Nezu’s conclusion, but because he doesn’t know if Nezu actually means what he says. 

Yes, that’s a question Izuku himself has asked on multiple occasions, and he hasn’t known the stoat for nearly as long as his teacher. 

“What do you have kid?” Izuku pauses for a second, jaw clenching as he glances at Nezu with a sliver hesitance pushing up his throat. This deal, he doesn’t like it one bit, but it’s all he can think to do. No, he doesn’t have another option as simple as this, and he doesn’t have the energy to come up with something more elaborate. It will have to do this time. 

“I want you to transfer Shinsou Hitoshi into class 1-A without him taking part in the sports festival.” That’s the easy part, making his demands. The part he doesn’t want to do, though? That comes next. 

“And please, do tell us what you will trade for that outcome.” Aizawa glances between them with just a tad bit of confusion sitting behind his exhausted expression. 

“I’d- I would be willing to... to take part in the sports festival in his stead.” It’s difficult to stay still as he swallows down the bile that threatens to bubble up his throat. God, he doesn’t want to do this. He really really doesn’t want to do this...

Nezu is looking at him with an expression of pure joy while Aizawa stares at him in shock, both of which make Izuku more than a little uncomfortable. He doesn’t force himself to stay expressionless, allowing the tension in his shoulders to stay and not pushing back the subtle grimace on his face. 

“And?” Great, just great. 

“And I will actually take part instead of purposefully failing.” There, he said it. He didn’t want to stay it, and he still did. Go him. 

“You’d be willing to go that far for someone who wants to be a hero?” Izuku takes a deep breath before responding to Aizawa’s question. 

“You’ll understand when you evaluate him.” It’s a non answer, and he knows that, but it’s hard to explain the way he feels about Shinsou. Aizawa can reach his own conclusion, and then they shall see if Izuku’s pupil can make the cut. 

“Wonderful, wonderful. As you may have guessed, you will be the one evaluating young Shinsou, Eraserhead. If you approve of him, then we shall accept this deal!” Aizawa still looks on edge, but he doesn’t protest, looking back towards the Stoat with a frown. 

“Now, Midoriya, I shall let you be the one to introduce our friendly teacher tomorrow afternoon. Will that work?” As if he doesn’t already know. 

“Yes, that will work.” 

“Perfect! I shall draft us a contract in preparation.” Great. Just what he wanted. 

God, this was a bad idea. 

The first thing Izuku does after leaving Nezu’s office is walk straight back to where Shinsou is struggling through a workout. He’s given the boy videos to study and drills to practice, but he hasn’t actually spent time ironing out the kinks, fixing mistakes. He needs to do at least some of that before Aizawa rips his defenses to shreds.

Shinsou is distracted when he walks into the building, just like earlier, focused on the weight in his hand with an impressive intensity. It won’t take much to snap him out of it if their first interaction was any indication, but it’s somewhat funny watching him glare at a dumbbell like it killed his family.

Just for a few seconds, he lets himself relax, taking a deep breath before stepping forwards and clearing his throat. Shinsou immediately notices, jerking around with the weight gripped in his hand. He looks up with wide eyes, blinking dumbly as Izuku looks down at him. 

“Your form is good.” He gets a few more blinks at that before Shinsou responds, words low and guarded. 

“Uh... thanks? Aren’t you supposed to be in class right now?” Oh, right, he said he was too busy to help on Tuesdays. Well, nothing to do about that now. 

“I got an exception. Come with me.” Without warning, he turns around and starts walking away, listening closely as Shinsou rushes to put his weights away and runs to catch up. It takes him a second, but he makes it, slowing down once he’s walking right next to Izuku with confusion written all over his face.

 “What are we doing?” Izuku waits to respond, still trying to keep a lid on all the anger in his chest. That moment of quiet was nice, but it didn’t stay long. It’s no surprise. That’s how it’s always been after all. 

“I’m coaching you.” Shinsou looks at him, confusion strengthening as he tries to keep up with Izuku’s fast pace. 

“But... weren’t we going to do that tomorrow?” He sounds just as confused as he looks, staring at Izuku with emotions written all over his face. 

“Change of plans. I need to shove a bunch of information into your head because Eraserhead is evaluating you tomorrow.” Izuku has to hold down a smile when Shinsou trips over his own feet before stumbling forwards to catch up. 

“Wait what? Eraserhead? Evaluate me? Evaluate me for what?” He looks more shocked than confused now, staring at Izuku like he has all the answers. And, well, he’s not wrong.

“He’s going to see if you have what it takes to become a hero.” For a second, silence hangs between them as they walk, a tension in Shinsou’s shoulders that wasn’t there before. Izuku doesn’t push, doesn’t wait, walking as fast as he can until they’re standing in front of a massive door. 

Holding the door open isn’t all that hard despite the size, and Shinsou steps inside despite the silence that still rings in the air. The building isn’t quite as oversized as the door, but there’s plenty of room to work with, even when you only count the matted section. 

Izuku walks straight for it, slipping off his shoes before walking to the center of the mats and turning to look at Shinsou who is still standing at the edge. He’s staring at the floor, face wrinkled with confusion. Izuku’s not sure what could be so confusing, but he doesn’t really care to ask. 

“You good?” Shinsou jerks, looking up before blinking a few times and moving to take off his shoes. 

“Yeah, sorry.” Izuku waits for him, staring at nothing as he continues to try and stay calm. He’s choosing to do this, which means he has no right to be so angry that he’s doing it, but that logic doesn’t help. Instead, all he can think about is how he wishes he hadn’t accepted that first deal. 

That’s also a lie, though. Nezu knew everything about him, which means he would have been reported to the police as soon as he was no longer interesting. Being stuck here, no matter how aggravating, is better than being in jail. Maybe. He can’t be positive, but that’s probably the case. 

“Okay, rea-“ Izuku doesn’t let Shinsou finish his sentence, grabbing his shoulder and pushing with about half of his strength. When all he gets is a surprised ‘hm!’, he goes a step further and uses a foot to trip him up before pushing his shoulder again and watching as he falls onto his back while flailing like a fish. 

Shinsou yelps and lands on the mat with a thump, looking up at the ceiling with wide eyes, but he doesn’t stay there. No, he shakes his head and rushes to his feet in a matter of seconds, using a technique that has him landing in a somewhat proper stance right off the bat. 

Izuku just stares for a second, taking in the way his feet are slightly too far apart and the way his arms are a tad bit too low. He also takes in the way his stance is sturdy and the way his shoulders are properly positioned. Overall, a good stance for someone who learned from videos. 

“Good. Your stance is better than I thought it’d be.” Shinsou blinks, but doesn’t put his guard down, which is perfect. Yes, he can work with this. 

“Uh... thanks?” He sounds confused, likes he’s unsure if he’s being insulted or praised. Izuku doesn’t care, moving forwards to start making corrections. 

“Your feet should be here, like this. Yes, that’s it. And your hands are too low. Hold them up, like this. Good. Now, show me a right jab.” He watches closely, making notes and giving instructions as he goes. Shinsou takes it all in with impressive focus, doing exactly as told and sometimes fixing issues without instruction. 

He’s not quite as gifted as Ochaco, but he’s determined, and that seems to make up for the difference. 

Izuku stands there, correcting and showcasing for heavens knows how long. They don’t have time to do everything, but he needs to get this out of the way now. 

Part of him wishes he had gone to Nezu later, given them enough time to learn more, but that was never going to happen. Nezu knew exactly what he wanted to do, so he would have just been called in against his will with no warning. This way he has some control over the situation, even if not much. 

Yes, this was the best he was going to get. Aizawa won’t be basing his decision on how proficient Shinsou is in hand to hand combat, because that’s just not the type of person he is, but Izuku doesn’t want to throw Shinsou into something without at least some preparation.

No matter how small, this session is going to help him feel just a tad bit more prepared than if he’d been dropped into it without a single lesson. Yes, it’s not much, but it is something, and it should help. 

The lesson ends when Shinsou manages to make Izuku’s palm sting with a punch. He doesn’t react, just nodding and putting down his hands before speaking. 

“Good. That’s enough for today. Don’t exercise tomorrow. Wait for the evaluation. Got it?” Shinsou takes a second to respond, trying to catch his breath as he slowly lowers his hands as though waiting for Izuku to attack. 

“Yes sir.” Perfect, everything’s going as planned. 

“Good. Now, go home, and makes sure to stretch extra. Maybe take an Epsom salt bath if you can.” That’s the last thing he says before walking off the mat. Shinsou doesn’t react for a second, still panting and coming down from the stress of being on guard for.... two hours. Okay, that ran a little long. 

“Uh... that’s it?” Izuku doesn’t use words to respond, just letting out a low ‘mhm’ and nodding as he slips on his shoes. 

“But you didn’t teach me anything new! Isn’t he going to want to see really good fighting?! I can barely throw a punch!” Izuku stands up, stomping his feet a few times to make the shoes fit better. Or, at least, that’s the goal. 

“So you’d prefer to know something new instead of having the ability to lift up both your arms tomorrow when you actually need to use them?” Silence. “Yeah, go home, Shinsou. Take that bath. Your muscles will thank you.” 

He can hear his pupil mumble something under his breath as he picks up his bag, turning around only to see him quickly change from a slouched position to one of perfect posture. 

“Yes sir. I’ll do that.” He looks borderline scared, like Izuku was about to bite his head off instead of subtly glare at him. Either way, it doesn’t matter, because he heard what Shinsou said loud and clear. 

‘As if I have access to a bath Mr. rich guy.’ 

Not sure why he had to say it under his breath though. All the people Izuku usually hung out with would have said that directly to his face. Dabi actually did say something similar, before realizing that he did indeed have access to a bath because Izuku gave him a key. 

Granted, Dabi didn’t care about pissing Izuku off. If anything, he wanted to see him react. That’s just how he was. Shinsou, on the other hand, seems to actually care what he thinks. For some reason.

“Good. I’ll see you tomorrow.” He walks away after that, barely listening as Shinsou stutters out a broken goodbye behind him, slipping on his goggles as he goes.

He walks until he’s stepping outside, and then he spreads his wings and takes off into the sky. The sun is hanging low on the horizon, reminding him that his impromptu lesson ran quite a bit longer than he expected it to. It was a good distraction, but now that he’s on his own again...

Not for the first time that day, Izuku lifts a hand and beats it against his chest, trying to get rid of the strange pressure sitting there. He swallows down the thick lump in his throat before shaking his head and pushing himself to go faster. The chilly wind beats against his skin, but his fire is sitting right below, hot and strong and just right. 

It’s not enough. 

His mind still screams at him, his chest still hurts, his lungs bursting as though he can’t inhale enough air. Breathing is an art at this speed, and his painting is looking rather rough right now. Continuing at this rate for long is impossible, wings protesting in a matter of minutes, body forcing him to slow down lest he passes out from lack of oxygen. 

He’s almost home when he comes screeching to a halt, nearly falling thanks to the way his wings just stop. He ends up flailing in the air for a few seconds before managing to land on a nearby rooftop with a thump. His whole body is aching, lungs sucking in air as he coughs and wheezes and lets his wings droop to the ground. 

He stays there, sitting on that roof for who knows how long until he finally has enough air to breathe normally, head tilting back so he’s staring at the sky with tired eyes. 

God, he doesn’t want to do this.

The heroics class, the festival, none of it, he doesn’t want to be a part of this. At this point, part of him would prefer jail. In jail, at least, he could have beaten the other inmates without guilt. Well, that might not be entirely true, but it sounds true to someone as completely and utterly done as him.

The worst part is that he chose to do this. No one is forcing him, no one is coercing him, no one told him he had to do this. No one even suggested he should do this. He’s joining the festival completely of his own free will, and that pisses him off more than anything.

He swore to stop caring, to not let others in, to push everyone back, and then he started at this stupid school and everything’s falling apart in a way therapists would call ‘healthy progress’. It’s stupid, and the last thing he wanted. 

Looking down, the roof is taller than expected, high up in the sky above all the little people walking home from work. They look like ants from this distance, far away and tiny as they walk and wait and talk without a care in the world. All this activity, and Izuku can’t help but wish he could slip off the edge and just fall. 

It’s nothing new, the desire to test, to make sure he’ll still come back. What if he doesn’t? What if he falls and that’s it? Would it really hurt to check? It’s been so long since he fell, since his wings gave out beneath him. He can taste the poison tea on his tongue, can feel his heart collapse inside him. It’s been so long, it wouldn’t hurt, right?

The second he comes to his senses, Izuku jerks away from the edge, stumbling towards the center of the building until he’s laying on the ground, eyes staring up at the sky once more. 

It would hurt. Too many people, too close to when he needs to get home... too many reasons that tell him to just fly away. There’s no reason to test it. One more try won’t rid him of this curse. He doesn’t know what will, but there’s no point in doing things he’s done a million times before. 

His lungs suck in a deep breath, pushing him forwards as he stumbles to his feet and grabs his bag. The straps dig into his skin as he takes off into the sky, wings beating strong and fast as he turns towards home and flies. He goes slower this time, making sure to breathe correctly so he won’t have to stop a second time. 

The sun is dipping below the horizon, telling him that he sat on the edge of that building for far longer than he thought. It doesn’t matter, but the wind has grown cooler and it hits his skin with an icky chill. It’s not quite cold, but it’s cool enough for him to heat himself up from the inside out all over again. 

It doesn’t take long to get home, maybe five, six minutes. He lands on his balcony without a sound, stepping inside and throwing his bag on the bed. He doesn’t change yet, walking downstairs where the Bakugou’s are eating dinner. Aunty Mitsuki looks up from her plate, smiling at him warmly. 

“Everything good?” He almost nods and leaves it at that, but something slaps him out of his downward spiral and forces him to respond. 

“Yeah. Just tutoring a friend.” Mitsuki’s eyes light up at the mention of a friend, and Izuku almost takes it back, but the excitement on her face shuts him up before he can even open his mouth. 

“That’s wonderful! Dinner’s in the kitchen, if you want to join us.” He’s glad she doesn’t push for details, grabbing his dinner and sliding onto the low backed chair without a word. 

The food tastes good, but he can barely keep himself focused long enough to actually be mentally present. His mind keeps screaming at him, reminding him of all the bullshit he’s going to have to deal with and begging him to just leave and never come back. 

It’s a stupid desire, one that he would never actually act on. Not now, not after everything that’s happened. He’s grown attached to a few of these idiots, and can’t help but want to see them again. It’s too soon to truly miss them if he did leave, but part of him wants to see where this will go. It feels like it’s been forever, like each day has stretched across weeks in his mind. 

Either way, his brain is still screaming at him, and he leaves dinner with his jaw clenched and his stomach full. Aunty looks at him with something bordering on concern, but he ignores it and keeps walking, going up the stairs until he’s sitting at his desk with tired eyes. 

He has homework to do, and he should probably take a shower, but he doesn’t want to do anything. There’s a pulsing pain slowly building up in his head, telling him that all this tension is only going to make things worse. 

So does he relax? No, he sits down and starts working. Part of him hopes that the school will distract him, but he knows it won’t, that he’s just avoiding having to actually work through his feelings. It’s nothing new, nothing surprising. He’s always been like this when things grow confusing. 

He’s confused right now. He’s so confused. 

Why is he doing this again? Is his desire to see Shinsou become a hero really stronger than his hatred for heroics as a whole? 

Izuku hates heroes. He’s said it before, will say it another thousand times, will always say it. Izuku hates heroes with a burning passion. He hates how some of them think heroics is seventy percent posing for the cameras, hates the way they do so without question.

He hates how some of them do nothing but destroy, never turning back unless it’s to burn down another building. He hates the way some of them target the weakest links, ignoring the real issues that sit out in the open for everyone to see. 

There are thousands of things he hates about heroes, and he’ll never be able to express them all in words or anger. There’s not enough anger to properly show how much he hates them. 

But there’s always been gray areas. 

These hero hopefuls, some of them, they truly think that heroics is all about saving people. They truly believe the media coverage is telling them the truth, that all heroes are good people trying their best. They believe the lies, and that’s bad on its own, but it also means that they truly started down this path for good reasons.

More hero students drop out of heroics before their third year than most college students drop out in any category. They start down this path, and then they learn the truth and leave. That’s the norm. 

But sometimes, sometimes they keep going. Sometimes, they learn the truth and they decide to try and change things. Eraserhead is one. Present Mic is another. Mirko, a third. 

There are many heroes like that, but most of them are lost in the rabble, buried under the shiny lies everyone wants to believe. The Commission doesn’t give power to heroes like that, sometimes going as far as searching for reasons to get rid of them. One slipup, and they’re gone. 

Izuku hates heroes, but something about this class gives him hope, seeing them all smile and train and try their best to push themselves to the limit. He sees them, and he wonders how many of them will end up doing more good than harm. 

He doesn’t know what will happen, but god can he hope. 

Now if only his mind would stop screaming at him to snap out of it, because it’s not helping. He is snapping out of it, snapping out of the constant fear and anger he once lived in. He’s doing better now, and his head should get on board with that. 

Yes, that would be nice.

Chapter Text

The world is silent when Izuku wakes up, no bird calls outside his window, no rain beating against the roof. Nothing to distract him, nothing to pull him out of his bed. It’s quiet, but not calm. There’s a tension in his shoulders, telling him that something’s wrong, that he’s missing a key detail. 

So, he pauses. He takes a deep breath, listening to his heartbeat as he tries to figure out what’s wrong. It’s nothing dangerous, nothing that could end up with him dying in an alley. No, it’s something else, and he’s not sure what. 

He searches, thinking about the last few days, trying to find an error in judgment or small slip up that built up into something worse. Nothing comes to mind, nothing explains the feeling, nothing looks even remotely off. Everything should be fine, and whatever is going on can’t be all that dangerous. 

No, he would feel far worse than this if that were the case. This is something small, and most likely inconsequential. There’s no point in worrying about something that won’t make a difference. If it’s important, it will come up eventually and then he’ll deal with the consequences. Yes, everything is fine. 

All it takes to push the feeling away is one deep breath, mind focusing on today for the first time since waking up. There are things to do, people to meet, an appointment he created but won’t be participating in. He’ll introduce his teacher to his pupil and then he will leave, probably to wait outside the door until one of them walks out of the room. 

He’ll stay, even though he can’t take part, because he can’t help but be anxious and waiting for the results any longer than necessary will likely drive him crazy. It shouldn’t make him anxious, because really he’s fine with either outcome. If Shinsou passes, he will have successfully completed an exchange. If Shinsou fails, he won’t be forced to take part in the sports festival. 

Either outcome should be fine, but he still want’s this to happen for reasons unknown even to him. It baffles him, and probably will baffle him until he finally leaves this godforsaken school. 

The sound of a notification drags him out of his thoughts, eyelids peeling open until he’s staring at his bedside table with a frown. It’s fairly early, almost five thirty, which means it could only be one of three people texting him. Shinsou, Kacchan, or Ochaco. Everyone else is either fast asleep or too busy to be texting others. 

It dings again before he has a chance to move, then a third time before going quiet. He sighs, uncurling from under his sheets and reaching out for the device, curious enough to push past the heaviness of his limbs. Staring at the screen as he turns it on wasn’t the best idea, eyes stinging from the brightness until he can dim it and finally open his messages. 

Ochaco: Hey! You have the afternoon off, right? Any chance we could do some training? I wanna get stronger :3
Ochaco: Oh, wait, you’re probably not up yet
Ochaco: So sorry bout that!

Right, Ochaco. It’s been a while since they trained together. He is free after class, but only because Shinsou’s evaluation will be taking place during heroics. Though Shinsou will probably be ready to go home after it ends, so it should be fine.

Izuku: It’s fine, I was awake. 
Izuku: I can do that. Gym seven work?

Ochaco: That’d be perfect! I’ll be there

Izuku: Okay. See you in class.

Yes, that should be fine. 

“Midoriya.” Izuku jerks, looking up from where he was writing down some notes in his textbook. The classroom is empty, all the students having gone to lunch, leaving him alone with his thoughts for just a few minutes. He wasn’t expecting anyone to be here, least of all his homeroom teacher.

“Sensei?” Aizawa steps into the room, still wrapped up like a mummy with an exhausted look on his face. 

“Have you told your new pupil about his evaluation?” Okay, he’s just making sure all his ducks are in order. That’s normal. 

“Yes sir.” Aizawa stares at him for a second before blinking with a sigh, but he doesn’t leave. Is there something else that needs his input?

“Are you really planning ongoing through with this?” 

...Oh. Aizawa wants to know why he’s going this far for someone he met a week ago. How is he supposed to respond when even he doesn’t know? Whatever, he doesn’t need to say anything he doesn’t want to. 

“If he passes your test, then yes.” His answer doesn’t seem to satisfy, which is as expected. He didn’t explain anything, and that’s all his teacher wants, an explanation. Unfortunately, he doesn’t have one. 

“Why?” 

“Why what, sir?”

“Don’t be smart with me. Why would you go so far for someone you barely know? It’s obvious you hate the idea of being a hero, and you purposefully specified that we weren’t allowed to force you into the Sports Festival. Why would you go this far?” The words stop there, replaced by a restless silence that sits over them with a heavy weight. 

The only problem is that Izuku doesn’t know. 

He really doesn’t know. 

He’s thoughts about it for hours, and he’s no closer to an answer than he was at the very beginning. There’s nothing forcing him into this, no one pushing him out of his comfort zone other than himself. He’s doing this, and he doesn’t know why. 

Aizawa doesn’t push him, letting the silence fester as he waits. There’s nothing to say, but he needs to say something, needs to break this suffocating peace. 

Yes, he doesn’t know, but there is one detail that he almost forgot. 

Toga brings out his protectiveness, fangs and talons sharp and ready to bite if provoked. Ochaco pulls at something in his chest, giving him hope that not everything is as bad as it seems. 

But Shinsou did something that no one has ever done before. He made Izuku forget his hatred. Just for a little while, just enough for him to wonder if it’s really worth keeping. 

Yes, he hates heroes, but Shinsou makes him wonder if he always will.

“You’ll see.” Aizawa jerks, looking up at him with a strange expression. It’s not shock, bordering on surprise, but something else thrown into the mix. He seems to think about it, but not for long, letting out an amused huff after a few seconds before turning and walking away. 

Yes, Aizawa will see, and then so will everyone else. Shinsou is special, and people will notice in due time. 

Hatsume keeps looking over his shoulder every chance she gets, glancing at his progress like a curious puppy but not quite invading his personal space. She’s obviously curious about his progress, of which there is little, hands slowly piecing together a model that should help him envision exactly how he wants to make this small device. 

It only takes her twenty minutes to break, the project in her hands dropped onto the table with a thump before she turns to face him with both hands resting on her hips. 

“Okay, what’s distracting you?” Izuku pauses, blinking at the table for a few seconds before continuing his work. 

“Just thinking about an appointment I have after this class.” More like thinking about whether or not he’s going crazy. Only a crazy person does something so against his ideals for no concrete reason. 

“Oh, come on! We both know it’s more than that. Just tell me, get it out of your head, you need to focus.” She’s awful pushy in a familiar way, just like that night he spilled everything to Dabi. But this time is different, or at least, he thinks it’s different. 

This time it doesn’t involve dying.

“There’s not much to it. Just thinking.” Hatsume sighs a long, drawn out sigh as though his words are physically draining. Before he can even send a questioning look her way, she shifts, leaning back against the table and staring down at the floor for a solid thirty seconds while Izuku tries to figure out what’s about to happen. 

“I won’t push you, but I’m here if you need to talk. Anyways!” That’s all she says on the matter, spinning around as if she didn’t just drop something completely unexpected on his head. She babbles about building models and turning them into support gear, about her current project and how it’ll be fun to work together once he’s finished. 

It once again, wasn’t what he expected. That’s happened three times today, far more than usual and far more than he likes, and the day isn’t even finished yet. 

He tries to focus on his work, but now he has even more things to wonder about, fingers picking at the cardboard until he’s staring at a line of puncture wounds on his tiny model. He places it to the side with an internal sigh before picking up the raw cardboard again and restarting the project, a small line of halfway finished knives sitting on the table. 

Maybe he’ll finish it this time. 

Shinsou is waiting for him outside the chosen gym when Izuku finally arrives, standing by the entrance awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot with nervous energy draped over every inch of his body. It’s not at all surprising, for many reasons. It’s not just a huge opportunity, but also the first time he’s meeting his favorite hero. 

Or at least, Izuku’s assuming Eraserhead is his favorite hero. It was never confirmed, but there were context cues that imply at least some hero worship. So yes, completely understandable. 

That doesn’t mean it’s any less agitating. 

Izuku hates when others are nervous, because it always rubs off on him in the worst way. He hates being nervous, hates the way he can barely control the twitching of his wings and the tenseness of his jaw. It’s not something he wants to deal with right now, but he can’t exactly force Shinsou to calm down. 

That’s not how any of this works. Of course, that means Izuku is going to have to deal with it. Just what he needed. 

Shinsou notices him quickly, spinning to look his way with wide eyes and the slightest shake in his hands. Nervous, expectant, waiting for the other shoe to drop. It’s an interesting expression, one he’s seen only a handful of times. It’s also exactly what Izuku expected. 

He can see the moment Shinsou registers that it’s not Eraserhead, shoulders drooping ever so slightly in either disappointment or relief. Maybe both. Either way, the nervous energy comes flooding back, feet shuffling and hands stimming as he turns back to where he was and stares at the floor. 

Izuku moves to stand next to him, staring up at the sky with a carefully blank expression. It’s hard to ignore the way Shinsou twitches next to him, but he manages, making sure to relax all his extremities in an attempt to hide his own anxiety. 

Shinsou doesn’t seem to notice, staring at the floor with an intense focus as he breathes in a perfectly measured pattern. It’s a good tactic, one Izuku should probably be using. 

Despite the nervous tension, the silence is actually mostly peaceful, two students finding comfort in the presence of one another. It’s good, a gentle calm that lets his chest fill with a different kind of warmth. He barely knows Shinsou, and can’t really call him a friend, but this makes him wonder if that’s what they will become. 

Another friend, something he never expected. One is already more than he thought would ever happen, but things seem to be changing far faster than he thought possible. So much has changed in so little time. Is this normal?

Whatever. No point in thinking about that, no reason to try and plan ahead. If it happens, it happens, and there’s no reason to try and slow down. It’s not hurting anyone, and it might help him on his attempted journey of healing. 

But now’s not the time to be thinking about that. Now’s the time to be staring at Eraserhead as his teacher slowly stalks towards them, obviously attempting to test Shinsou’s situational awareness. 

Of course, Shinsou has been doing this for far longer than anyone Izuku knows, quickly finding Aizawa seconds after Izuku does so himself.

For a second, the silence stays as Aizawa continues to walk towards them, no longer trying to conceal his presence. He hides it well, but Izuku can tell that he’s impressed. Good, the first test is over and Shinsou passed it with flying colors. 

Now to do the same for the next thirty minutes to an hour. 

Izuku said this would be a good opportunity, not that it was going to be easy. The question is, will Shinsou be able to keep up? The situation is hopeful, but there’s no guarantee, no way to know how this will end. A good opportunity? Yes. Hopefully, he doesn’t lose this and drag everything back to square one. 

“Midoriya.” Aizawa nods towards him before turning to look at Shinsou with a piercing gaze. “So you’re Shinsou Hitoshi.” It’s not a question, and no one treats it as one, silence stretching through the gaps once more as Aizawa carefully studies his prospective student. 

“Drop and do five pushups.” Shinsou jerks, and Izuku almost does the same, wondering why that would be the first order of events, but then he watches Shinsou do as told without question and understands. Another test, but for more than just strength. 

Of course, Shinsou’s only been seriously exercising for maybe two weeks now, which means he’s relying on whatever strength he had before this all started. Aizawa’s knows that, because he knows everything Nezu’s told him and Nezu knows everything. He knows that, but he wants to know if Shinsou will try despite the fact that he will most likely fail. 

Sure enough, Shinsou struggles through two and almost a half pushups before his arms give in and drop him to the floor. That’s not the end though, because they all know that the one thing Shinsou wants most is to pass this test, which means never giving up. 

Which is exactly what Aizawa is wondering if he’ll do. Will he give in? Will he fail a test and act like there’s no point in trying when he’s sure he won’t succeed. It’s not enough to injure, but it’s plenty enough to act as an unspoken test. 

“Stop. Stand up.” Shinsou does as told, stopping right in the middle of his fourth attempt before jumping to his feet. He hides his anxiety well, but it’s still there, showcasing that he seems absolutely sure he failed this test. That’s fine. He doesn’t need to know the results until they come out.

If only Izuku could tell him that, tell him not to worry about it because it won’t matter either way. His anxiety won’t help him, it will only make it easier to fail. 

Of course, that’s not a message he can or even should send. Especially considering the fact that Izuku himself is anxious right now. That would be hypocritical, and unwanted.

“Hold your arms out.” Izuku takes a step back, watching as Shinsou moves as commanded without hesitation, just as he has every second so far. His arms are shaking ever so slightly, angry at him for pushing harder than he should, but they stay up. Barely. 

“Relax.” It’s interesting to watch, the flow of commands and responses and the momentary silence in between. 

“Spin around. Do ten jumping jacks. Stand on one leg. Touch your toes. Relax.” Each one seems ridiculous, but Shinsou doesn’t question it in the slightest. Honestly, Izuku’s starting to wonder if Aizawa’s just doing this to see how far Shinsou goes. 

If that is the case, he must go further than Aizawa expected because after a good five minutes he seems to run out of things to command. This time, the silence stretches far too long before finally snapping like a rubber band when Aizawa turns and walks into the building without a single word. 

For a second, Shinsou just stands there, probably wondering what just happened before finally realizing and rushing towards the door himself as Izuku watches him go. 

He’s not allowed inside while this happens, but Shinsou must have missed that fact because he pauses to look at Izuku with confusion written over the panic. Izuku motions for him to go, watching as he hesitates before doing as told, running after Aizawa without a word. 

The door closes with a click, leaving Izuku all alone, outside of a cold building, standing in the chilly air that sticks to his skin like glue. For a solid minute, he just stares at the door, jaw clenched as he tries to push down the anxiety in his stomach. It doesn’t work, meaning he almost slips up when pulling the heat closer to the surface of his skin. He can only pull up so much before the flames spill out, and he doesn’t feel like lighting on fire while standing out in the open like this. 

Part of him wants to fly to the roof and wait up there, but that wouldn’t help. It would only make the air colder, and his wish for death stronger, neither of which he wants to deal with right now. 

Instead, he takes a deep breath and sits down on the warm cement, letting his wings relax and trying to ignore the dirt that will undoubtedly stick to the feathers for hours. Gross, but not worth worrying about. 

Before long, he has a makeshift system set up, homework spread out around him and the small cardboard knife set to the side. The hardest homework is from Monday, from his lesson with Nezu and the pile of information he’s supposed to study before next Monday arrives. It’s the first thing he works on, and the last, because the door opens not twenty minutes later. 

It startles him, but he doesn’t jump, head jerking to the side until he’s looking up at Aizawa who quickly finds him and stares at his setup for a solid five seconds before speaking. 

“Come in. I need you for a test.” It’s a command, not a request. Apparently they need a test dummy for this, and Izuku is right here, ripe for the picking. Whatever, it’s not a big deal. 

He does as told, leaving his homework behind as he picks himself up and follows his teacher into the building. It feels larger on the inside, walls stretching out thanks to white paint and empty floors. Shinsou is standing in the center of the room, shifting from foot to foot with tension wracking his frame. 

He looks more than nervous this time, like he’s doing something he really doesn’t want to do. Izuku wants to pause, to think about the situation and figure out what’s going on, but he doesn’t need to do that. He’s seconds away from being given that information without expending unnecessary energy on a hobby he barely ever uses. 

Sure enough, the minute Aizawa guides him to stand right in front of Shinsou, he’s being told everything he wanted to decipher. 

“I want to see Shinsou’s quirk in action. Do you consent to being a test subject?” Well, he’s definitely not beating around the bush with that phrasing. 

“Yes sir.” Shinsou is looking at him with something bordering on fear, badly hidden behind a layer of nervous energy. Izuku doesn’t attempt to poke or prod, simply standing still as he waits to finally discover something he’s been curious about for quite a while. 

“Good. Shinsou, continue.” Izuku relaxes, not bothering to slip into a stance because he wasn’t told to do so. It’s not hard to jump into a fight without warning, so this is fine. And, just as expected, Shinsou doesn’t lunge to attack him or do anything similar to that. 

Instead, he speaks. 

“Do you really think I can be a hero?” The question catches him off guard, eyes blinking a few times as he slowly realizes that it’s likely a verbal quirk. Maybe something response based? That must be it. Okay, respond. 

Time to see the hidden truth.

“Yes-“ 

It feels like being dunked in cold water, world going fuzzy as something drags him away from the surface. The surface of what? He can’t be sure. There’s blood in the water, screaming in the background. 

No, he’s not fighting it. What is it? There’s no saying, no explanation, but he knows he needs to relax. Yes, relax, let the water take him. He can still breathe, and the cold doesn’t seep into his body, flowing over him as though it’s not really touching his skin.

And then it all stops, mind snapping back into awareness without warning. Shinsou is standing there, in front of him, the fear no longer hidden as though he’s waiting for Izuku to lash out. It’s a little confusing for a second as he tries to figure out what exactly happened, but he ends up with a no answer and a desire to ask questions. 

But Aizawa isn’t finished. 

“Good. Midoriya, how do you feel?” Izuku turns his head, staying silent for a second as he tries to center himself a little better. He still feels the ghost of something dark hovering in the background, but it’s silent enough for him to ignore.

“Uh... fine?” And he does feel fine, despite the confusion. There’s no pain, no tension, just a layer of confusion that’s not going to go away until he gets an explanation.

“Good. Shinsou, tell him what your quirk is.” Izuku turns again, and then he waits, watching as Shinsou struggles to push past the fear. It takes a minute, a minute where Izuku tries to figure out what the quirk was on his own. It’s obviously a verbal quirk, something that makes a person lose control of their body...

But Izuku is still standing in the same spot as he started in, and his body feels normal. What could it be?

“It’s...” Oh come on, what’s with the suspense. Just tell him already! “It’s brainwashing.” 

Brainwashing? That’s not very descriptive... Brainwashing usually takes time and effort. Izuku’s never heard of a quirk that brainwashes someone in one go. And again, Izuku feels exactly as he did before. 

Or does he just think that because the quirk is still active in his mind?

That’s possible, but he can’t be sure without an explanation. 

“What does it do?” Shinsou winces, teeth clenched like he really doesn’t want to say. It makes sense. Either way, it’s not a quirk people tend to like. Izuku knew it was likely a verbal quirk because of the scars, but whatever this is probably earned him a lot more than just a muzzle. 

No wonder he’s always on guard. 

“If you verbally respond to me, I take over your mind. I can tell you to do things and even make it so you won’t remember what happened.” Oh, that’s interesting. 

“So... mind control.” Shinsou doesn’t speak again, still looking like he wants to be anywhere but here. He does nod though, tension making it jerky as he visibly tries his best to stay calm. 

That quirk though, very interesting. Does it always work? Can people snap themselves out of it? What’s the drawback? What’s the weakness? Can he make people say things? Can he-

Okay, calm down. It’s not the time to ask questions, not right now. Instead, he should be making sure to showcase that he’s fine with quirks like that. Always has been, always will be. 

He doesn’t grimace, doesn’t pull away, staying loose and calm and blank. Shinsou is staring at him, waiting for a reaction, waiting for the other shoe to drop. 

“Cool.” That seems to be enough, Shinsou’s eyes going wide in surprise. He doesn’t say anything else, letting the silence ring between them as Shinsou stares at him in shock. 

“Okay, Shinsou, try again. Izuku, attempt to break out this time.” He glances at Aizawa and nods, staying relaxed as he waits for a question to be asked. Shinsou doesn’t speak for a second, seemingly trying to center himself before making a move. The silence doesn’t last long though, replaced by shuffling feet and eventually, a hesitant question.

 “How wide are your wings?” That works. 

“About six mete-“ This time, he knows what to expect, body sinking into ice cold water once more. 

But something’s different this time.

The voice, the dark shadow is closer. It hovers over him, staring through him with fiery eyes and smoke slipping past its teeth. It doesn’t reach out, just watches, making it hard to remember why he’s here. 

But he does remember, jerking forwards until he’s touching the surface of the water. 

That’s as far as he gets. 

Something keeps him from going further, pulling him down as his lungs scream for air. He stays there, wondering why he can’t push past that last stretch, wondering what’s pulling him down and why he can’t feel it. 

He doesn’t have time to find an answer. 

This time, snapping back to reality makes his head ring. The memories stay, which means Shinsou didn’t tell him to forget them. Or it means the quirk is effecting him differently, but there’s no reason to expect that. No, he’s just dealing with the aftereffects. 

It’s fine. 

“Good. Relax.” Izuku looks up, watching as Shinsou takes a deep breath and closes his eyes. The tension seems to fall from his shoulders, thick and heavy, leaving him looking thoroughly relieved. 

“That’s all I need. We’ll send you your results in one week.” Izuku blinks, turning to watch Aizawa jolt something down in a notebook without a hint of emotion that would tell them how Shinsou did. There’s nothing, and it makes Izuku want to shake answers out of his teacher. 

Instead, he stays relatively calm and follows Aizawa out of the building with Shinsou close behind. The door shuts with a click, leaving them standing in open air, feathers ruffling in the wind. It’s still far too chilly for Izuku, and he takes a second to pull up some warmth for what feels like the hundredth time this day alone. 

“Are you two good? Do you know how to get to the entrance?” Izuku pauses, but the question wasn’t really aimed towards him. Aizawa knows he’s had plenty of time to memorize the campus. But Shinsou doesn’t have access those maps. No, that question wasn’t aimed towards him. 

Instead of responding, he moves to the side and starts packing up his school. The notebooks fit nicely into his old backpack until he has all his homework resting against his back. Shinsou is staring at him, which is when he finally notices that Aizawa is gone, slipped away while he was focused on something else. 

Shinsou is standing there, looking like he really wants to ask a question but isn’t sure if he’s allowed to do that. Izuku stands up, brushing some dirt off the tips of his wings before turning to face Shinsou with a relaxed stance. 

It takes a minute, but the tension slowly lessens until Shinsou’s finally able to speak. 

“My, quirk... You’re okay that I used it on you?” Izuku pauses, thinking about his answer. It’s obvious that he isn’t just asking about that. No, he’s asking if Izuku is okay with the quirk as a whole, asking if it creeped him out or makes him angry. It’s kind of depressing, knowing Shinsou expected him to go straight to hatred. 

But there’s no point in being careful, because he doesn’t have to be. The answer is obvious. At least, to him. 

“Yes. It’s a cool quirk. Good for heroics.” Shinsou’s head jerks up from where it was facing the ground, eyes wide with surprise. There’s more silence for a second, as the sun slowly disappears behind the clouds. It’s probably going to rain soon...

“You’re... you’re really okay with it. Good for heroics?” The surprise stays plastered on his face, borderline shock no matter where he looks. 

“Yes. You can easily deescalate situations. Perfect for hostage situations or rescue operations. Very good for heroics.” He leaves it at that, watching as Shinsou continues to stare at him with those wide eyes. The silence lasts for at least a full minute, broken when Shinsou blinks and shuffles his feet. 

“Uhm... thank you.” Izuku blinks, but Shinsou is already moving, walking away with an impressive speed. He’s not sure if he should say goodbye or something, so he stays silent, watching him leave. 

Beneath the warmth under his skin, below the indifference that seems to stick to his bones, under it all, anger sits. It wants to bubble up, wants to find those who hurt Izuku’s friend and kill them. He’s wanted to kill many people, but he has yet to do so, yet to go that far. 

He still wants to, though.

Green eyes look up, staring at the dark clouds stretching out over the sky. They float there, casting shadows on the surface of this planet. Yes, it’s going to rain. 

The water doesn’t fall right away, leaving him dry as he walks to gym seven. It doesn’t beat on the roof as he spars and coaches and spars again. It doesn’t drip on his skin as he walks Ochaco to the train station.

It waits until he steps out from under the overhang, a few droplets falling on his shirt. The cold seeps past the fire in his veins, making him shiver as he steps back under the overhang. He stays there for a minute, watching as the rain slowly builds until it’s pouring on the cement ground. 

He ends up waiting for Aunty to come pick him up, but those small raindrops was all it took for his defenses to fall. 

Whoever hurts his friends should be careful, because if he isn’t allowed to kill them, then he’ll need to handle things a different way. 

And that’s something that should scare them, no matter who they are. 

Chapter Text

Shinsou’s not sure what to do. 

The anxiety hasn’t gone away, the fear that he messed up constantly floating in his mind as he tries to get through the day. He struggles to focus on his school, answering multiple questions incorrectly as he tries his best to stay sane. The strange tests, the constant commands, the fear he felt when he was told to showcase his quirk. 

He’s still not sure if Midoriya was faking his reaction, not sure if the one person he might be able to trust is just lying to his face. His fear goes against logic, because Shinsou’s pretty sure Midoriya isn’t the type of person to do that, but it sticks to his mind nonetheless. 

It feels like he’s been waiting weeks for the response, but it’s only been three days, eyes staring at the ceiling of his foster home as his roommate snores on the bed next to him. Okay, two days and a few hours. It’s still three am after all. 

It’s three a.m. and he can’t sleep because every single bell in his mind is ringing at max volume, telling him that he isn’t safe that he needs to run that he needs to leave all this behind and find a better country to live in. Which basically means that he’s dealing with the normal side effects of entering a new foster home. 

It’s fine. He’s fine. If only he could shut off his head and sleep a few hours. If only. 

For now, he’ll have to make do with the hand he’s been given. Midoriya probably doesn’t hate him, there’s a tiny chance he managed to get into the hero course, and no one is going to come into his room and muzzle him. 

Probably. 

Yes, he can wait. No matter how much sleep that waiting forces him to miss.

If there’s one thing Izuku hates, it’s being forced to wait. 

It always makes the itch stronger, makes him want to tear out his hair at the scalp. It’s not a pleasant feeling, and there’s nothing he can do about it. He goes through school, he does everything he needs to do, and none of it distracts him from the very present anxiety about Shinsou’s results. 

It’s not that he doubts Shinsou’s capabilities, he just really hates waiting. Even as he tries his best to go back to normal, tries to hang out with Kacchan and keep tabs on Todoroki and find a way to contact Toga. He tries to do a lot of things, but they’re all overshadowed by the constantly growing itch that he can only get rid of with the one action he promised himself he wouldn’t abuse. 

His hand pauses from where it was placing a letter in the one spot Toga might find it. Emphasis on might, seeing as he hasn’t received a single response in all the months he’s been leaving notes and gifts. They’re usually gone when he comes back to place another, but there’s no guarantee that Dabi or Toga are the ones taking them. 

Well, it doesn’t matter, because there’s no other way to contact them. He’s not bringing Nezu’s attention towards that house. He’s just not. It’s possible that Nezu already knows, but he’s going to protect it, regardless. 

The alley echoes with the sound of a heavy sigh, a hand reaching forwards the last few inches and dropping the letter in its spot. Then, the sound switches to that of footsteps as he walks out of the alley and takes off into the sky. Red wings beat hard and fast, pushing him forwards with a familiar speed, racing against time as rain clouds threaten to pour atop him. 

The last thing he needs is to get wet. His jacket is waterproof, but his pants aren’t and his face is only partially covered, so he wants to avoid the rain if at all possible. Sure he could fly above the clouds and get home that way, but it’s hard to breathe up there, the thin air slowing him down every time he tries. 

Yes, better to fly fast and avoid the rain altogether. 

And he is fast. His wings are strong and his body is light and there’s nothing stopping him from rocketing through the sky. Sure using your quirk to fly is technically illegal, but it’s not an enforced law in these areas, so there’s nothing stopping him from cutting his normal time in half and just barely slowing himself down before landing on a familiar balcony with a harsh thump.

His room is warm, warmer than any other part of the house, and his desk is a mess of notes and textbooks, reminding him that he should be doing his homework. There’s a small cardboard knife sitting on the edge of his desk, a model he made during free lab as Hatsume peaked over his shoulder every five seconds.

There’s also a small plant on his side table from his elective with Lunch Rush on how to grow herbs without a garden. Next to that is a circuit board he’s supposed to study before Monday comes around. 

Yes, he’s been doing a lot of stuff, but the itch hasn’t even reduced. Distractions aren’t working, tasks aren’t working, even flying isn’t working. Nothing is working. 

He wants to die.

Yes, of course, he’s wanted to die for five years now, but this time it’s not just wishing to stay dead. No, he wants to fall from the sky and come back with the itch gone and his wings glowing gold. It’s a craving that won’t go away until he finally gives in. And he will give in. 

He’s not sure when, not sure what will lead to it, but he will give in, eventually. The pain before death, the disappointment of waking up again, the relief that the itch is gone, it’s all going to happen. It will happen, and the cycle will restart. 

Once more, he finds himself taking a deep breath, ignoring the way it strengthens the feeling of something pressing against his lungs. It’s just another thing that should go away when he dies. He can wait that long. Probably. 

Now, to actually finish his homework. 

The work itself isn’t hard, eyes locking onto his next task as he settles down onto his comfortable chair. Math, and Science and History are all subjects that seep into his brain without difficulty. Power Loaders’ homework is far more interesting and Nezu’s homework is even more so. 

It still doesn’t last more than two hours. 

It’s not even nighttime when he finishes, the sun still shining through his window as he closes the final textbook and puts it back into his bag. That’s it, he did everything. He exercised with Kacchan, he cleaned his room, he ate two meals, he did his homework. He did all the tasks he could do. 

What does he do now? Draw? Play a game? Cook dinner? 

He sits at his desk for a few minutes, staring at the wall as he tries to decide what to do next. Only, he does it for more than a few minutes because the next time he looks out his window the sun is gone, replaced by a black sky and light rain pattering against the glass. 

Oh. That’s one way to get through the day.

The pressure in his chest is still there, the itch still driving him crazy, but there’s nothing to be done about it. 

At least, not yet. 

Instead, it’s better to focus on what he can control. Like eating dinner, for example. Or taking a shower, or going to bed, all of which he does without conscious thought because it seems as though his mind has decided to ignore its surroundings for who knows how long. 

It’s fine though, because he doesn’t need to think about this stuff. He can think about it tomorrow, or the next day, or any time his mind is ready to deal with it. The pressure on his chest has been shoved to the background and the itch has become bearable enough that he’s able to sleep without much issue. 

Yes, sleep. Go to sleep and wake up and deal with it all tomorrow, just like every other day so far. Izuku hates waiting, but he can wait when he has to. Things will get better when the results are out, he just needs to wait that long. 

Hopefully, that’s not an issue. 

It is an issue. It’s really an issue. It’s only Monday, and Izuku’s about ready to call it quits and jump off the closest building. He actually considers it a few times, staring longingly at the wonderfully high roof of UA's main building. It really is such a tall building, and it would definitely kill him. 

If he jumps and Eraserhead activates his quirk at the moment of death, would that fix the issue? Would he stay dead? A question he will never know the answer to, unfortunately. There’s no way he’d be able to convince his teacher to do something like that, no matter how far he would go to convince him. 

No, he’ll need to live with this damn curse until death finally takes pity on his soul and drags him from his body once and for all. When that will be, he’s not sure, but it better be sooner rather than later. It would suck if he stopped aging and just lived forever, but he honestly has no way of knowing how this will end. 

If it ever ends. 

...

Let’s not think about that. Better to focus on the important stuff, like figuring out how to keep going without flying as high as he can before falling to his death like he has so many times before. Or maybe he can do that. Fly to a rural area and find a good field to die on...

No, he’s not allowed to do that. Not yet. Maybe soon, but not yet. 

So he closes his eyes and ignores the itch and does his best to not go crazy. Monday ends with him glaring at his new homework from Nezu about cyber warfare, wondering why on earth this is the type of stuff he’s being forced to learn. How is this helpful? He has no idea. 

But it will probably come up somewhere, because Nezu doesn’t teach him pointless knowledge. Maybe it’s a prerequisite for a different lesson, or something like that. Yes, that must be it. 

Either way, he ends up letting out a heavy sigh and tossing his notes to the side before climbing back into bed and struggling to fall asleep. Somehow, he manages, waking up and going to school once more as he tries not to gnaw off his arm in the middle of class. 

Ochaco doesn’t ask if he’s up for sparring, which is either proof that he’s doing a bad job at hiding his anger, or that she’s simply that good at figuring out how he’s doing. He’s not sure which, because it really could be either, but he’s glad either way because it feels like he’d snap one of their arms and bite off a few fingers if he was forced to fight anyone today. 

Instead, he has at a punching bag for a solid hour before biting into his arm until his fangs pierce this skin. His arm is littered in tiny dots from where he’s been pushed this far before, perfectly uniform, scattered over his skin like freckles. 

It only helps a little, the itch quieting for less than a minute before coming back full force. The lack of results pulls up anger from his ribs, fist hitting the punching bag with a loud smack that sends the it flying back into the closest wall. He ends up standing there, smoke spilling from his lips as he pants through the heat in his lungs. 

The pressure is still there, and the itch, and the urge to die, never leaving for more than a second no matter what he does. 

It’s infuriating. 

His chest is burning, lungs aching, ribs complaining. Everything is too much, and there’s nothing he can do. 

But there is something, and it’s oh so simple, and all he’d need to do is-

No. He promised to wait at least six months. It’s been four. He promised, and he doesn’t break his promises. Two more months, all he needs to do is last two more months. 

Before the sports festival. He can die right before the sports festival. He can last that long. Maybe. 

Wednesday. The day Shinsou’s results should be released. Of course, there’s no guarantee it will be today, but it was heavily implied. It should be today, and Izuku can’t help but thank the heavens when the itch falls into the background with that knowledge in the front of his mind. 

When Aizawa walks into the classroom, Izuku immediately starts searching for some sign of the results. A glance, a smile, anything. There’s nothing to see, but he searches anyway, just in case. 

When their teacher leaves, the itch grows just a little, just enough for him to reach up and gently scrape his nails against his neck. Not hard enough to slice the skin, but it probably leaves red marks in its wake. That’s fine, no one’s looking. 

No, everyone’s focused on their school, writing notes and answering questions as the day passes excruciatingly slow. Izuku just barely manages to focus, jotting down messy words on a random page in an attempt to actually do school. There’s nothing else to do, no other way to distract himself, so this will have to make do. 

And it does. Somehow, it works, time passing faster every minute he manages to focus on his task. Before he knows it, the bell is ringing and he’s heating up his soup in the cafeteria, glancing between Todoroki and Kacchan. Kacchan looks somewhat better, actually talking to the people at his table, but Todoroki looks tense, on guard, sitting by himself with a clenched jaw. 

Izuku can’t help but wonder if something happened, but he knows the answer is probably yes. That something probably has to do with Endeavor, and Izuku can’t help but wish he was stronger, wish he could fix the problem without outside help. 

But that’s not his job. 

No, he needs to focus on the now, not on what he wishes he could do. 

Just like every other day so far, Hatsume notices that something’s off. The only difference is that it’s less anxiety and more anticipation, which is a nice change but still makes it hard to focus on his task. Free lab requires focus, but there’s not much he can do about it. 

So, he plans out what he needs to do and starts working on the areas that are easy to fix if he does mess up, which he will. When he walks out of the lab, his fingers are singed and the apron he wore is covered in black streaks, perfectly acceptable consequences that he can deal with tomorrow. 

Once more, heroics is no different from the last few days. They seem to be avoiding any activities that involve violence, which is understandable and often somewhat interesting. The more academic approach to heroics is different, new, and just a tad bit appealing, giving him some insight on how heroics works. 

But it still doesn’t fail to make him angry. 

The anger is mild, a steady simmer in his gut as he watches All Might try to explain the bureaucracy his agency goes through. All these rules, all these regulations, and yet they only apply to those the Commission doesn’t like. Disgusting. 

But again, the anger is mild, so he can mostly ignore it and focus on those interesting parts as he struggles to focus at all. Aizawa is standing in the corner, sucking on a juice packet with a perfectly straight face. Izuku’s not sure why he’s here, seeing as All Might is simply reading from a textbook, but something about the constant surveillance is just a tad bit funny. 

The only issue is that his attendance drags the anticipation back to the surface, eyes flickering towards his homeroom teacher every few minutes no matter how hard he tries to ignore him. 

It feels like heroics class stretches on for hours, but they’re actually released early, everyone going their own ways because they’re not even wearing gym clothes. 

“Midoriya.” Izuku jolts, looking up from where he was shoving his notes into his backpack. Aizawa is no longer in the corner, walking towards him with that blank expression. A few people look their way, but they don’t try to listen, just glancing at the new variable before walking away. Even Ochaco leaves, sending him a small smile before following the crowd. 

Izuku can’t help but tense, wondering if something’s wrong as they wait for the room to empty. All Might is already gone, and for the first time in a few days Izuku wonders when the hero is going to talk to him about that strange weakness of his. He almost forgot about that in all the chaos. 

Maybe he should approach his teacher first. 

“Midoriya.” Izuku looks away from the exit, locking eyes with Aizawa and relaxing his shoulders.

“Yes, sir?” Aizawa stays silent for a second, searching for something without giving away what that something might be. Izuku feels his anticipation grow, wondering if he might be getting the results or if he’s just being told off or whatever teachers hold back students for. Aizawa must find what he’s looking for, because he ends up nodding and pulling a folded piece of paper from his pocket. 

“Your new contract.” Izuku pauses, wondering what that means before remembering Nezu’s requirement of a contract for his involvement in the sports festival.

Which means...

He flips open the first page, reading the title before forcing a smile down his throat. 

Shinsou passed the test.

The waiting is over. 

“Thank you Sensei.” He doesn’t smile, bowing polity before standing up and carefully placing the contract in his bag along with all his other supplies. 

“Your welcome. Now, come with me.” He blinks, but doesn’t protest, following his teacher with his wings held up high behind him. They walk to the main building, then up the stairs, then through the hallway, then up some more stairs, before finally stopping right outside the teachers’ lounge.

The door is smaller than all the others, a normal door that stands out amongst all its larger counterparts. Aizawa holds that door open for him, thumb on a small screen as Izuku steps inside. The room he steps into is spacious, a line of desks with teachers typing away on their computers stretching out on the right and a few closed doors on the left. 

Oh, and a bright yellow couch that hurts his eyes bad enough for him to squint as he looks away. 

“Over here.” Izuku follows Aizawa without question, glancing at the other teachers and almost pausing when he sees the skeletal form of All Might sitting behind one of the computers, typing away just like everyone else. He looks focused, and doesn’t seem all that aware of his surroundings. 

Strange for the number one hero, but they are in a school, so not particularly concerning. They don’t stay in the main area long enough to draw attention, only a few eyes flickering their way before they’re stepping inside a closed office where a familiar figure is sitting on a chair in front of the desk. 

Izuku stays relaxed, forcing himself to look as blank as he possibly can to avoid giving away the results. The door shuts with a click, immediately drawing Shinsou’s attention, head spinning around to look their way with wide eyes and a tense jaw. He looks like he’s about to receive the judges’ verdict in a murder trial, hands shaking ever so slightly, skin pale. 

He would say that Shinsou’s being dramatic, but he’s been feeling overly anxious himself and he’s still not the one who actually wants to be here. That’s an important distinction to make in this situation. 

Aizawa moves without a sound, sitting down on the office chair opposite Shinsou and directing Izuku to stand next to him. And stand he does, watching Shinsou closely as the boy looks between them a few times before settling on Aizawa with a shaky breath. 

“Shinsou. As you know, I have your test results. Midoriya is here because he’s both my student and your teacher. Do you want him to leave?” Shinsou blinks, glancing back towards him one last time before clearing his throat and shaking his head. 

“No. This is fine.” Good. Izuku wants to see his reaction.

 “Okay.” Aizawa pauses, reaching down and pulling a folder out of the desk and leafing through it for a second before placing a small pile of papers on the desk. 

“This is the evaluation, both what we were testing you on and your scoring. The final result is on the second to last page.” Shinsou stares at the papers for what feels like forever, even after Aizawa pushes them across the table. He just stares, tense and scared like it’s a pile of small bombs just waiting for him to touch them. 

Izuku waits, and waits, until timid hands finally pick up the papers. He waits even longer, as Shinsou reads through the tests, finally learning why Aizawa told him to do specific things and how he did. He watches as the tension rises, as Shinsou’s eyes get even wider, as the pile slowly grows thinner and thinner. 

Until there are only two papers in his hand. 

Shinsou is staring at the bottom of the page, eyes wide, mouth hanging open in shock. Izuku relaxes, lets himself smile a small smile, one that grows ever so slightly when Shinsou looks up with pure excitement written on his face. 

“I did it?! I got in?!” Aizawa doesn’t smile, doesn’t give anything away, but Izuku can tell that he’s pleased. Just as he expected, his teacher’s interest has been peaked. That’s a good thing, and he knows for sure that Shinsou will learn everything he needs to catch up with the rest of his new class. 

Good. Everything is going as planned. 

Izuku watches Shinsou quietly rejoice, wide smile on his face as he stares down at the paper in his hand. He can’t help but relax a little, the itch falling into the background, relieved that he no longer has to wait. It’s over, he can breathe now, stay relaxed for a few days before something new comes along and breaks his peace. 

As they leave Aizawa’s office together, Izuku continues to watch Shinsou as the boy practically shakes with excitement, holding the pile of papers in his hands even though it would be easier to place them in his backpack. It makes sense though, because he keeps glancing down at them every few seconds as though making sure he read it right the first hundred times. 

“Thank you Midoriya.” Izuku pauses, looking up until their eyes meet. Shinsou is looking at him now, a softer smile and an expression of gratitude resting on his face. Izuku’s not sure how to respond, blinking dumbly until Shinsou is looking away without a single change in his expression. 

He doesn’t seem to care that Izuku didn’t respond, which is interesting and not at all what he’s used to. It just reminds him of the reason he went this far in the first place. 

Even that is over now. Shinsou is on the track to learn everything he needs without a single slice of input from Izuku. Aizawa will train him well, and then he’ll be in the hero course and Izuku will no longer need to push himself out of his comfort zone to help. 

Now to get through the sports festival without snapping. The hardest part of this deal, but almost entirely predictable so a little less stressful. He doesn’t care how he does, though he will need to make an effort to do somewhat well or he’ll be in breach of contract. 

So he watches Shinsou leave, shoulders relaxed and face blank until he’s all alone by the front entrance. The weather is starting to get warmer, but he still slips on his jacket before taking off into the sky. 

The sports festival. Even thinking about it makes him angry. If he makes it to the end, if he needs to fight his classmates...

Hopefully, it doesn’t come to that. 

The days continue to pass slowly, his only solace being the hour he spends working on his knife. The heat of the tools, the precision of the work, the buzz of the machines. It all helps him take a deep breath before that’s ruined by heroics and their constantly confused teacher. 

But even after the annoyance and the occasional anger, he still can’t help but wonder when the hero is going to pull him to the side and tell him what on earth is going on. Part of him wants to approach All Might first, get the ball rolling a little faster, but that would involve finding a time to talk to him and he always disappears before Izuku even has a chance to bring it up. 

It’s annoying. So annoying, he’s about ready to ask his question in front of the entire class. Of course, he won’t do that, but the urge is still there. 

It does help that none of the classes have been combat based since the attack. Izuku’s still on edge, even now, two weeks after the attack. It’s likely that everyone is on the same boat, so it’s a good thing they’re going into the more bureaucratic side of things. 

Only, there’s one issue with that. If they stop training altogether, then they’ll be more than a little rusty when the festival comes around. They still have one and a half months before it starts, so they have time, but some of them will need some time to catch up. 

They need lessons in martial arts and how to use their quirks in a fight. They need to learn how to hold back and how to let loose, everything that is required during matches. Well, spars technically. Izuku’s pretty sure they’re not allowed to do anything drastic, but even that is something they need practice with. 

Either way, they’ll need to change gears eventually, and they’ll either have to deal with it or leave. Izuku would like to leave, thank you very much, and he kind of hoped that some of his class would leave as well. They’ve faced something no teenager should face, so it would make sense that some of them would finally realize how the glamorous fights don’t make up even half of heroics. 

They should want to leave, but they seem to have taken a different lesson from that battlefield. If anything, they seem more determined to keep going, which is not what he expected in the slightest. He won’t lie, their resolve is impressive. 

It doesn’t change the fact that they shouldn’t have had to deal with everything that’s been thrown at them in such little time. Hopefully, some of them will sit out of the sports festival, take the time to recover, but that’s unlikely. They’re all competitive, and the festival is one of the best events to test your strength. 

Yeah, they need to start training again. Sooner rather than later. 

“And here’s how you did!”

The sound of All Might’s booming voice snaps him out of his thoughts, eyes looking up to see the results of today’s exercise. Looks like his class isn’t amazing at filing paperwork quite yet. The usual four seem to have some practice. Iida, Yayorozu, Kacchan, and Todoroki, all have decent grades, but everyone else...

Whatever. It’s none of his business. 

“Now! we’ll be starting a new section tomorrow, so be ready to go do your best!” Izuku watches as his class perks up, looking at their teacher in excitement. Man, it takes almost nothing to get these kids excited. 

Izuku watches them buzz, watches them leave the room as he finishes packing up his stuff, but then he notices something different. 

All Might hasn’t left yet. 

A few of his classmates ask their teacher some questions, but All Might’s eyes flicker towards him every few seconds as Izuku packs as slowly as he can. He can read context cues. This might finally be their time to talk, and boy has he been waiting for that. 

The last person to leave is a confused Ochaco who glances towards him until he motions for her to go. It works, and he ends up standing in a room with two teachers in front of him. Aizawa doesn’t move from where he’s lurking in the shadows, but All Might is standing front and center with his trademark smile. 

A smile that disappears a good thirty seconds after the door clicks shut. 

Izuku watches as steam starts to rise from All Might’s skin, hissing like a hot kettle until a massive burst of covers him in smoke. He watches as that smoke dissipates until all that’s left is a man who looks nothing like he should, thin and skeletal and visibly ill. He even coughs a few times, blood splattered on a white cloth that’s quickly shoved into a pocket. 

This, is so very strange. He barely remembers watching All Might deflate last time, but to have it happen right in front of him without pain radiating through his body?

“Young Midoriya. We need to talk.”

Very strange indeed.