Midoriya Plus

Midoriya, Plus Three-Sixty-Five
Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/27679802.
Rating: Mature
Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Category: Gen, Multi, F/M, M/M
Fandom: 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero
Academia
Relationship: Midoriya Izuku & Yagi Toshinori | All Might, Gran Torino & Midoriya
Izuku, Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead & Midoriya Izuku, Midoriya Izuku &
Nedzu, Midoriya Izuku & U.A. Faculty, Midoriya Izuku & Toogata Mirio,
Hadou Nejire & Midoriya Izuku, Amajiki Tamaki & Midoriya Izuku,
Amajiki Tamaki & Hadou Nejire & Midoriya Izuku & Toogata Mirio,
Amajiki Tamaki/Toogata Mirio, Hadou Nejire/Midoriya Izuku
Character: Midoriya Izuku, Yagi Toshinori | All Might, Midoriya Inko, Gran Torino
(My Hero Academia), Aizawa Shouta | Eraserhead, Nedzu (My Hero
Academia), U.A. Faculty (My Hero Academia), Original Characters,
Amajiki Tamaki, Hadou Nejire, Toogata Mirio
Additional Tags: Older Midoriya Izuku, Midoriya Izuku Has One for All Quirk, Parental
Yagi Toshinori | All Might, Quirk Analysis (My Hero Academia), Smart
Midoriya Izuku, BAMF Midoriya Izuku, Pre-Canon, Spoilers, Boku no
Hero Academia | My Hero Academia Manga Spoilers, Alternate
Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon-Typical Violence
Language: English
Series: Part 1 of The One Year Older Midoriya Series
Collections: There are no words for this beauty, Creative Chaos Discord Recs, ⭐
Little Red's BNHA Library ⭐, Delicious Golden Eggs, Best Stories,
Stories That Are Cool, fanfics i ranted to my mom about but didn’t have
the heart to tell her they were fanfics, A Picky Reader’s Top Picks, Top
10%, Sven's Absolute Top Fics, Kylo's BNHA Recommendation Stories
:D, ✨ anime fanfics ✨ , Sturgeon's
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in, Chaos Corner Fic Recommendations, I Read This Instead of
Sleeping, Fics I will sell my Soul for, ScribeSmith's BNHA Fanfic Library
(AKA: Izuku is Best Boi), nonsense station's discord recs!, Lady's
collection of PERFECT fics., Speaker’s must-reads, chapter by chapter
>:), Storycatchers' pile of heroic hero stuff, The Unitary, BNHA Treasure
Box, its-yaboijojo Read Later/Favorites, Skelebooks (The Graveyard),
I’ve given my heart and soul for this fic, Elite 50k+ My Hero AUs, Lex's
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IZUKU_top BNHA works, T.S.S (This shit slaps), vespertine, favorites,
Collection of The Best Fics I've Read, Ummmmm, Nicee, the reason i'm
an insomniac, Where Green Beans Grow, S.T.I.L.L.,
AnoditeOmniaAbuzz, hello yes i can’t stop thinking about these works,
Need to Read, MHA Fics I Am Pining For ,
Every_fic_I_want_to_read, BestofBNHA_rereadMONTHLY, My Fav
MHA Fics❤️, BNHA Karl Kolumna aprooved, Better than Canon BNHA,
Stalker’s Amongst Stalker’s, Miss marked for later, my little problem
hero, То что нравится, ‼️Fics I’d gladly lose my memory for so I could
read them for the first time again, A Wandering Caretaker's Shrine,
Izuku Best Boy, SMALL COLLECTION OF ABSOLUTE PERFECTION |
BNHA, Bnha Bookclub Discord Recs, Fanfics I Wish Were Canon 3000,
Favorite BNHA Works ⚡️, Titanmaster_117's
Favourite Rare Pairs
Stats: Published: 2020-11-22 Updated: 2022-10-28 Words: 476,346 Chapters:
84/?
Midoriya, Plus Three-Sixty-Five

by Skeleton_of_society
Summary
"First in the ring is a fan-favorite, who you all know and love! The youngest student in
UA's history to get a provisional license, with over twenty villain captures to his name! The
only one in class 2-A, UA's Golden Boy, Midoriya Izuku!"
Or: Izuku is born a year early, and nothing (read: everything) changes.
Starts pre-canon, gets there eventually. Contains manga spoilers.

Midoriya Izuku: Origin
Chapter Notes
This chapter was edited and reformated on March 26, 2021 by my Beta, flauel.
See the end of the chapter for more notes
It's 4:17 on a Tuesday, and Midoriya Izuku is on his knees, crying in a Musutafu back alley.
Tears stain his cheeks, and he sobs, clutching his heart with one fist as his other hand struggles to
hold him steady. His bright yellow backpack, usually light as a feather, weighs him down like a
hunk of lead.
His school uniform, which was supposed to be a neat and pristine black, is charred and scuffed.
His red shoes are worse for wear, the laces of both being completely burnt and the left one missing
the entire sole.
Midoriya's a little banged up, too. His ribcage throbs with the rhythm of his heartbeat, stabbing him
with bolts of pain. There's a small cut on his hand, and his face looks a bit sunburned.
A cool February breeze blows through the alley, chilling him to the bone. Or it would if he
could've felt any colder.
The words of his idol, his number one role model, his hero echo through his mind, bouncing
around in an infinite loop of despair as the wind blows through the city.
"Without a Quirk? I should think not. The world of heroics is a dangerous place. Pros have to be
willing to risk it all, day in and day out. Trust me when I say even top heroes get injured in the line
of duty.
"Without a good Quirk to protect themselves with, us heroes could very easily die, or worse." All
Might's smile, formerly bright and joyful, becomes strained. "I cannot condone someone Quirkless
running around fighting villains or dealing with natural disasters. It's just too dangerous." Then,
almost as an afterthought, "If you really want to save people, be a police officer. They get a lot of
flak for not being pros, but it's still an important job and a much more… realistic dream."
Everything just hurts. His head, his heart, his throat, his back—it's all awful. Awful in more than
just the fact that All Might, his hero for as long as he can remember, doesn't think he can do it.
Midoriya had known all his life that most people thought his dream was foolish, or even suicidal.
From his preschool teachers to his own mother, not a person he'd met believed in his dream—or
him, for that matter. Yet somehow, All Might's smile was enough to keep him going. To push him
through every obstacle.
But now?
That smile, the one bright and burning with hope, is replaced by the one he'd seen moments earlier.
It's trying so desperately to be happy, but it just isn't possible. Instead, it becomes sad and
mournful, wishing that things were different, but stubborn in the belief that things were always
going to be the same.
How long has he been in this alley? Midoriya couldn't help but wonder. The sun's hanging lazily in
the sky, not quite setting just yet. It's late winter, so it'll probably be an hour or two before
nightfall.
His tears are slowing a bit now, and his sobs aren't quite as strong. After another bit of waiting,
Midoriya does his best to wipe the tears from his eyes and stands shakily. He teeters a bit once he's
up, but after a moment his knees regain their strength.
He feels… well, not better, but the heartache is dulled just a tad. His insides are still swimming
with grief, but he's got just enough strength to shove it all down for the moment. It feels like he
might have the strength to walk home instead of just lie on the ground in some dirty alley, which is
good. His mom's probably worried sick.
Reminded of his mom, Midoriya reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. He winces as he
catches his reflection and opens the camera app to get a better look.
He looks like a street fighter who lost, which, based on the fact that he tried to fight back against a
pair of muggers and had to be rescued, is probably a decently fair assessment. His eyes are red, too,
like he just finished chopping an onion or fanning a campfire full of wet leaves. Or crying.
He notices the time after a minute of studying himself. It's 4:32. He'd been crying for less time than
he'd thought.
Midoriya's phone vibrates, and a push notification pops into his screen.
From: Mom
Sweetie, I'm seeing a report of a villain attack on your walk home. Did you make it back alright?
Midoriya blinks. Well, he's not home, or alright, but neither one of those are going to have a big
impact on his reply.
To: Mom
I'm almost home. I didn't even know about the attack.
He gets a message telling him to hurry home and to not forget about the dirty dishes he has to wash
a second later, and he turns off his phone. The villain attack should be resolved by the time he gets
to wherever it is on his route back to the apartment, so Midoriya takes a big breath and starts
walking out of the alley.
His first step out onto the street shows him the bustling world he'd been isolated from for those
life-changing (are they life-changing? Does he really want to give up now? Part of him says yes,
and that he's a fool for even thinking about it, but another defiant part urges him to push on)
moments. It's hard, so very, very hard, because everything is just the same, but also isn't in the
slightest.
Midoriya sort of equates the feeling with a book he read back in his first year in middle school. It
was a compilation of first-hand accounts of people whose Quirks came in very late. In one of them,
a man unlocked his at 20, and it granted him the color perception of some random marine animal
Midoriya couldn't remember. The man claimed to have cried for days, and he liked to say the
moment was like being enlightened or seeing for the first time. Everything was just so clear.
Midoriya didn't feel enlightened though. Sure, he might understand the world better now, but it
wasn't a good thing. He wished he could go back to being a dumb, fantasy-obsessed kid again.
But he couldn't. He never could.

A bike zipped right past him, accompanied by the frantic ringing of a bell. The rider's backpack
brushed his nose a bit. It startled Midoriya, who jumped back half a foot. He took a couple deep
breaths and gave himself some hard slaps on his cheeks. He needed to focus on getting home. Then
he could sulk and contemplate his life.
Grabbing the straps of his backpack, Midoriya starts to walk. He gets a couple odd looks from
other pedestrians, which isn't strange. His clothes look like they belong in the trash, which they do,
and he's got a first or second-degree burn on his face. He's also limping slightly, but no one seems
to care enough to help him out, which is par for the course with him.
Midoriya noticed the distinct smell of ozone in the air around him as he rounded a corner but
brushed it off. He kept walking, ducking around more corners and crossing streets absently. It's
only when he's three meters in a crowd that he realizes that the villain attack his mom mentioned
isn't over. Not by a long shot.
There are barricades up, Midoriya notes. The same barricades that have separated hero and villain
fights from onlookers since All Might debuted thirty years ago. There are also tons upon tons of
people in the crowd. He pushes to the front of the mob (muscle memory is a hard thing to break),
but the usual excitement he feels when watching hero and villain fights is now replaced with a
morbid curiosity.
The scene before him is heart-wrenching, if he's being honest. There's one villain, a small, skinny
man with some form of electric type Quirk, and a Pro Hero with an earth Quirk battling in the
center of the crowd. The villain is winning soundly, despite the disadvantage he has due to his
opponent's Quirk. His lightning-like bolts of electricity are just too powerful for the hero's walls of
earth.
"C'mon, Quake!" a booming voice shouts from Midoriya's left. The boy's head immediately spins
on a dime. There, to his left, stands Death Arms, a hero who debuted six years ago after graduating
from Ketsubetsu High. He's not particularly powerful or skilled, Midoriya really only knows him
because he's a huge nerd and has memorized every hero in his town, but he's a more combat-suited
hero. If things go south, hopefully he'll rush in.
It's just a shame that he'd be fried by the villain.
The fight continues on for a while. The hero, Quake, keeps going despite her injuries—there's a
nasty gash on her thigh that Midoriya knows will scar, along with bruised cheekbones. And those
are just the ones he can see.
Other heroes show up eventually, but they're all ill-suited for the fight, too. Backdraft, for one,
arrives with his sidekicks but sticks to keeping people out of the fight and dealing with a small fire
the villain must've started earlier. A snake-themed hero, Basilisk, shows, too, but he can only yell
encouragement from the sidelines.
"Where's All Might?" Midoriya mutters, barely realizing he's saying anything. "He was here
earlier."
"All Might?" a man asks loudly from his left. Midoriya flinches at the volume. "You said All
Might was here?"
And just like that, the crowd starts to call out for their Number One. Apparently, he'd been in
Musutafu all day, so people know he should be around. But where is he?
Midoriya keeps watching the fight for a while, taking mental notes on the styles and Quirks of both
sides like he usually does. It's not like he'll ever use them, but the familiarity helps a bit.
The shouting continues for a long time, and Quake, apparently inexperienced in real fights, gets
distracted by it. She looks away at just the wrong moment, and the villain hits her hard across the
face with an electrified haymaker. Quake goes down. Hard.
Midoriya's heart plummets for the second time that day. It doesn’t seem like All Might will be here
soon, if ever. Maybe… maybe it's his fault? If Midoriya hadn't been mugged, or maybe if he hadn't
asked that stupid question, All Might would still be in the city. But now, because of him, All Might
is probably all the way back to his agency in Tokyo, trying his best to put the sad little Quirkless
kid out of his mind.
Midoriya can't help it. He starts to cry again. A hero might die today because of him, and no one's
doing anything. Everyone's just standing there, waiting for All Might. Midoriya wants to shout and
scream. He wants to smack Death Arms and all the other heroes for doing nothing. He wants to
restart the day and avoid taking that stupid alley as a shortcut.
Midoriya wouldn't remember when he started to move. Later, he'd ask his predecessor over
afternoon tea. The man, skinny as a wisp and tired with age would only offer, "Just as everyone in
that crowd was beginning to lose hope," for a response.
Midoriya might not remember when he started to move, but he would remember the moment he
realized what he was doing. By this point, he’s already halfway across the wrecked intersection
that served as a battleground and slinging his backpack off his shoulder.
The villain, who has his back turned to Midoriya and his section of the crowd, is suddenly struck
by a five-pound sack of pens, pencils, and textbooks. He spins around, momentarily forgetting
about the downed hero.
Midoriya, who’s shaking with every fiber of his being, stands firm before the villain. "Stop!" he
yells, his voice cracking. He feels a fat tear run from the corner of his eye all the way down to his
chin.
The villain stares for a moment, oblivious to the screams of terror from the crowd and gathered
heroes. Then he smirks evilly and lights up his hands with yellow electricity.
"Big mistake, kid," he says, glee evident in his voice, "it'll probably be your las—"
But then, All Might is there, wearing the same clothes Midoriya saw him in earlier. The blue
carpenter's jeans and white tee are both filled with rippling muscle that could pulverize a whole
ward.
"Detroit Smash!" All Might bellows, throwing his right fist forward in a straight punch.
The villain doesn't even get a chance to react before he crumples to the ground in a pathetic heap.
The crowd of people predictably goes wild, cheering for their Number One. All Might helps Quake
up before shouting a hurried apology for his tardiness and leaping off into the (almost) sunset.
Midoriya is left to deal with the aftermath. It's… not pretty, to say the least. The paramedics, ever
dutiful, barely have enough time to patch him up before Death Arms grabs him by the arm and
gives him a real tongue-lashing about risking his life and trusting the pros. Backdraft does much
the same, though much more gently, and Quake gives him a pat on the shoulder and a warning not
to stick his neck out like that again.
Midoriya quietly wonders what their words would be like if he let it slip that he was Quirkless.
Would they mock him? Yell at him even more? They'd probably just treat him like a three-legged
dog made of glass and walk him home to his mother. They'd probably make sure he'd never act
heroic again, too.
It's not like Midoriya can blame them. They're right, after all.
He manages to escape the bunch of heroes and the reporters that seem to constantly hover over
their every move. He's lucky he's a civilian minor, otherwise he might've been forced to give a
statement.
Midoriya's only three blocks from home when he hears it. There are footsteps behind him. It's
nothing new, he knows a few classmates that live in his apartment complex, but it's almost six
o'clock. Everyone should've been home an hour ago.
"Young man," Midoriya hears from behind him. He stops walking and turns around. There he sees
a man who's very tall and looks skeleton-like with his thin build and sharp facial features.
"I'm sorry," Midoriya says, taking a step backwards, "but I really have to get home. My mom's
probably worried sick because—"
"Of the villain attack, I know," the man interrupts. "That's fine. I won't keep you long. I'd just like
to talk."
Midoriya narrows his eyes, feeling slightly apprehensive and suspicious. "I gotta—"
The man sighs heavily, almost like he’s frustrated, then grows. He shoots up at least half a foot,
and his shoulders expand to stretch out his shirt. His legs balloon up, and his once sharp and jagged
face rounds out. The two bunny-like strands of hair that once framed his face now stick right up in
the air.
"A… All Might?" Midoriya asks, his eyes clouded with wonder. "Wait, no! All Might is all
powerful! There's no way someone who looks like that could be him. You're an imposter!"
'All Might' frowns. "I assure you, I am All Mi—" He lets out an awful cough and spits out a wad of
blood. "Shit," he swears before a cloud of steam erupts from his body, and he's back to being
skinny again.
Midoriya is half tempted to offer him a tissue, but he remembers that this is an All Might imposter
and probably a villain. He reaches for his phone to call someone—anyone—before the man stops
him.
"Wait!" He moved a bit closer, though he's still a respectable six feet away. "Just… I can prove it to
you."
Midoriya lowers his phone. He looks around. There's no one on the street. It's completely dead.
The rational part of him wants to chuck his backpack at the man's head, but his gut is telling him
that he should let the man talk. He nods. "Then prove it."
The man sighs. "About two hours ago, I saved you from a mugging. Before I could leap off, you
grabbed on to part of my jeans. I sort of pushed you off and let you ask a question." The man looks
especially guilty, almost as though he regrets everything, but pushes on. "You asked if someone
like you—someone Quirkless—could be a hero. I told you no."
Midoriya feels himself collapse on the ground. He feels his knees bruise. "It really is you..."
All Might nods. "Yes. I trust you know not to share this with the world?"
"I… yeah, but why tell me this anyway? I'm just a hopeless hero wannabe."
All Might smiles. "Perhaps. But do you know what you did back there? With your backpack?"
"Put myself in danger for no reason and almost died," Midoriya mumbles.
"No, not at all."
"But you were there right after! If I just waited, everything would have been fine! I wasn't thinking,
and I embarrassed myself!"
"Ah, so you weren't thinking. I figured as much." Midoriya looks up, with confusion evident in his
expression. All Might continues. "You see, four years ago, I had a big fight with a villain. He did
this to me." All Might lifts up his shirt, revealing a massive, puckered scar across the left side of
his torso. "I lost half of my organs because of it."
"There's no way that Toxic Chainsaw or Purifier did that."
All Might laughs, but it's airy and humorless. "You know your stuff. I had a feeling you were a
fanboy. But you're right," he agrees, "Those two were strong, but they didn't have the raw power to
hurt me. The fight I'm referring to has been covered up. Only the very upper brass of hero society
know I've been hurt, and most don't know how bad."
"How bad is it...?" Midoriya asks.
"Aside from missing half of my organs? I can only hold onto my hero form for five or six hours a
day now."
Midoriya sucks in a long breath. "That's—"
"Very bad, I know." All Might looked over Midoriya again, as though burning every feature into
his mind. "But I'm not here for your pity, or to let a random teenager in on one of the world's most
important secrets. Back there, you moved to save a pro hero whose life was about to end. You
weren't thinking. I could tell just by looking at you. Believe me when I say everyone in that crowd
thought you were insane, because you, a skinny middle schooler, with tears in his eyes, were
running right into the face of danger.
"But I didn't share that thought, because I know that every true hero in the world has had a moment
like that, where their body just… moves."
Midoriya starts to feel the sting of tears in his eyes for the second (or is it third?) time that day. He
feels his legs go weak, and he collapses on the ground, supported by his forearms. The tears start to
flow freely.
"Young man, I came here to correct myself. I have wronged you. I now believe that you, too, can
become a hero!"
Midoriya briefly sees his life flash before his eyes. Everything from when he first met his one and
only (former) friend, to that faithful doctor's visit, and all the time he tried to stand up to bullies.
Every word of discouragement, every time he cried himself to sleep, and every time he took a
beating while being mocked.
It hurt. It hurt so, so badly. But it was all going away and being replaced by the words he'd always
longed to hear.
A sob, or maybe a shriek, of joy tears from his sore throat. His eyes were flooded with fresh tears,
which fell to the ground in a pair of small puddles.
"My power is yours to inherit."
"I… what?" Midoriya asks, trying to stop his sobbing. He really didn't want to cry twice in front of
his hero.
All Might smirks. "My Quirk. It can be passed on, and I'd like for you to have it. Should you
accept, you'd be my successor, and I'd train you."
Midoriya blinked. "A transferable Quirk? But how? Quirkless bodies aren't meant for Quirks, and
that's assuming I can receive one." He didn't even realize that he was muttering, his mind was
moving too fast, "But if a Quirk can be passed down, can a Quirk be taken? Can a Quirk be
modified or cloned? Where's the line when it comes to—"
"Kid!" All Might interrupted, throwing his head back and smacking his face with one palm.
"You're really overthinking this. I'm not gonna force this on you, but I gotta know: do you want my
Quirk or not?"
"Yes!" Midoriya answered immediately. He stood up. "I'll be your successor!"
All Might nodded firmly, "No hesitation, that's what I thought." He squared his shoulders and
raised a hand high in the air. "Tomorrow, we'll begin your training! Meet me at Dagobah Beach at
five PM sharp, got it?"
"Yes, sir!" Midoriya answered.
"Good. Now run home, I don't want your parents to be worried.
It's 5:32 on a Tuesday, Midoriya Izuku is walking home. His backpack and clothes are damaged
beyond repair, and there are dried tears on his face, but his stride is determined and powerful. Each
step is one closer to his dream. His shoulders are set firm, and his chin is up. His eyes burn with
determination and grit, and the smile on his face is wide and fierce.
He'll be a hero. He'll be the best hero there ever was, even if it's the last thing he'll do.
Chapter End Notes
Uh, hi. This is my second ever (published) attempt at fanfiction. It's taken a while for
me to feel confident enough to share my work after my disastrous first attempt, but
here we are. Updates should be fast (two times a week), but life might get in the way.
Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed!
One for All
Chapter Notes
850 people have read this. *850*
I don't even think I've had a conversation with 600 unique people, let alone 850. It's
scary, almost.
Anyways, you're all getting this one early because the chapter after this is half done
already. It should be out on Sunday.
As of March 27, 2021 this chapter has been edited and reformated by my beta, flauel.
Midoriya wasn't sure what he expected All Might to tell him when he got to the beach the next day,
but it definitely wasn't Start hauling trash.
Which, to be fair, the beach was really dirty, and had been for years, if his mom was to be believed
(she'd looked at him like a crazy person when he told her where he was going; it wasn't pretty).
The place definitely needed to be cleaned, but he wasn't sure why it had to be him.
Midoriya slips and falls face first into the sand as he remembers that, oh yeah, he was trying to pull
a fridge up to the dumpster he saw by the entrance earlier. He's got rope burn on his hands now,
which sucks but isn't too bad.
"Ah, finally!" he hears a massive, jovial voice say from behind. Midoriya rolls over and props
himself up on his elbows. There, casually sitting on the fridge like he doesn't weigh six hundred
and sixty-five pounds (Midoriya has the number memorized because he's a total nerd) is All Might.
"I was beginning to think that you were too stubborn for your own good!"
"All… Why am I hauling trash?" Midoriya settles on, sitting up and crossing his legs.
All Might smiles even brighter, which shouldn't be possible, and hops off the fridge. "You see,
back in the early days, being a hero was all about servitude." He places one hand on the top of the
fridge and pushes down, crushing it. "Why, I remember my years in America. They basically
treated heroes like garbagemen! I mean that in the best way possible, of course, but you get the
idea."
"So I'm doing this to get used to serving the community?" Midoriya asked, rubbing his hands
together to warm them up. The idea makes sense. He does want to be a hero to help people, after
all.
All Might picks up the crushed fridge and casually tosses it into another pile of trash. "Not only
that, but I miss the days when the beach was clean. I made a lot of good memories here." The
fridge lands with a clang about twenty yards away, and All Might strikes a pose. "Also, you're not
a proper vessel for my power yet," he adds, almost like an afterthought.
"But I thought you said I was worthy!" Midoriya cries, already feeling tears running down his face.
"Yeesh, kid, calm down," All Might says, pulling out his phone and snapping a couple pictures, "I
meant physically. Mentally, spiritually, and instinctually, you're damn near perfect. It's just your
weak body I'm worried about."
Midoriya wipes his face with the sleeve of his tracksuit. "What's wrong with my body?" He knows
he's skinny. He's been so all his life. But he's still decently strong for his age, mostly due to all the
running he does on a regular basis.
"As it stands, if you were to use my power at one hundred percent, you'd probably be blown to
bits," All Might says, nonchalant like he's ordering the usual at his favorite restaurant.
"Blown to bits!?" Midoriya grabs his arms and pats himself down, making sure he still has all of
his limbs.
All Might nods seriously. "Yes, that would definitely be bad. But, there's an upside!" He reaches
into the back pocket of his pants and pulls out a thick, three-ring binder. "You can build up enough
muscle with this!"
He tosses the binder to Midoriya, who opens it. The first page reads Aim to Pass: American Dream
Plan in big, bold letters. Midoriya flips through some of the pages quickly. "Wow… even my sleep
is scheduled!"
"That's what it's gonna take if you want to get into UA," All Might agrees. "Er, you do want to go
to UA, right?"
Midoriya nods rapidly. "Yes, of course! You and almost all the top heroes in Japan went there, and
that's not even mentioning the free publicity from the Sports Festival, or the top-notch education
staff. There's always Shiketsu—"
All Might holds up one of his massive hands, stopping Midoriya. "I get it. But it's gonna take a lot
of work if you want to pass the entrance exam. This plan is your best bet." Then, as though they're
being spied on, All Might looks around the beach and carefully approaches Midoriya. "If I'm being
completely honest, this is gonna be way hard. You sure you're up to it?" he whispers, covering his
mouth with one massive hand.
Midoriya takes another look at the plan. The binder probably weighs six pounds, and it's filled with
names of exercises he's never heard of. But that's not gonna stop him. Midoriya nods firmly.
"Yeah. I'll do it."
[x]
It's 7:12 am on a Saturday, and Yagi Toshinori is out for a drive in his truck. It's a newer vehicle,
though it's modeled after a classic pickup from Pre-Quirk America. A teenage Toshinori probably
would've tripped over his own feet if he saw it drive by. Adult Toshinori is lucky to get behind its
wheel and drive it almost every day for a half hour to and from his agency.
The radio is on and, like usual, it's tuned to a local station that plays music that was popular back
when he was in his twenties. The host announces the date in between songs, saying that it's now
the seventeenth of December. Toshinori blinks in realization. The ten months he'd outlined for his
successor had gone by in a flash, and the boy had one week left to get the beach clean.
The thought brings a smile to his face. The boy is progressing well, and he has already
demonstrated that he's not the type to settle for anything less than the best. But the last time he'd
checked up on Young Midoriya was last month. He remembers giving the boy a hearty slap on the
back and wishing him a happy Thanksgiving.
But now, part of Toshinori realizes that, one, they were in Japan, and the amount of people that
celebrated Thanksgiving in Japan was probably closer to zero than it was to ten, and two, he'd left
his successor alone cleaning up a beach unsupervised for about a month.
His successor who had the habit of pushing himself too hard, even past the point of exhaustion.
Toshinori can very clearly remember the time that, about five or so months in, Midoriya had fallen
victim to his own determination and faceplanted while hauling an old steel toilet. It wasn't pretty,
but he'd gotten the boy patched up and given him a lecture on sticking to the schedule. It should've
worked on any rational adult.
But Midoriya was a teenager.
Toshinori remembered when he was a teenager. More specifically, he remembered how much of
an idiot he was, and that he was definitely not a rational adult.
The horrid image of Midoriya laid out on the beach, face-down, covered in seaweed and bits of
trash runs though his mind. With a sigh, Toshinori flips his turning signal on and changes lanes.
Yeah, he really ought to check on his successor.
Luckily, he's only about thirty minutes away from Dagobah beach, so he should get there in time to
catch the tail end of Midoriya's training time.
Usually, the boy was done hauling trash and off the sand by eight AM, mostly because his middle
school started at nine. But, on the weekends, like today, he usually stops at 8:30 then returns in the
late afternoon to sneak in a couple more trips to the dumpster.
By the time Toshinori gets to the beach, it's 7:45. There was a villain attack on the highway that he
had to resolve, but it only took one good hit, and he was back on the road in thirty seconds flat.
Stepping out of his truck, Toshinori notes that the dumpster is full again. It's not exactly a good
thing, considering it was emptied on Wednesday. Midoriya was probably working too hard like he
had before. Hopefully the boy wasn't passed out on the sand like he'd envisioned, or worse.
"Midoriya!" Toshinori yells as he walks down below the seawall. "Midoriya, where are you?"
Taking care not to slip down the steps, he makes it to the bottom. His feet rest on the soft sand.
"Kid, you better not—oh, holy shit!"
Last month, there was probably about twenty square yards of trash to clean up, and most of it was
stacked five, six, or even seven feet high. Now, every inch of the beach is absolutely spotless. The
sand is pure and white, and the ocean water is a pristine blue. Waves lap onto the shore, crested
with beautiful seafoam. The sun is rising, and he can hear seabirds calling.
It's exactly as he remembers it being back in his youth.
"My god… Young Midoriya!" Toshinori feels himself puff up as pride and amazement fill him to
the brim. He looks around again and notices a fifteen foot tower of trash standing to his far left. On
top of it is a screaming figure, which is probably his successor.
Toshinori is proven right when he leaps to grab the boy and carries him to the ground. "Look at
you!" Toshinori says, shaking the boy's shoulders.
Toshinori almost can't believe the transformation. Smooth, hard muscle had taken the place of skin
and bone. The boy's shoulders, chest, and upper arms had grown the most, swelling a near
excessive amount to broaden his build. His torso tapers in a slight v-shape, and Toshinori proudly
notes the six pack of abs that take up most of the space on his belly. Midoriya's legs have also
beefed up, his thighs stretching the fabric of his track pants and his calves looking more like steel
cable than flesh and bone.
"I… I did it!" The boy laughs, nearly collapsing.
Toshinori steadies him. "Yes, you did. Here." He hands the boy his phone after making sure he
won't collapse. On screen is a picture. "This is you, crying ten months ago."
"I'm so skinny..." Midoriya says in amazement.
"Yes, you certainly were," Toshinori agrees, patting the boy on the shoulder. "But now, you're
ready."
Immediately, Midoriya straightens his back, his face serious. He looks up at his mentor. "Am I
really?"
"Huh?" Toshinori cocks his head in confusion, his right arm already halfway to his head to grab a
hair.
"It's just… you put in so much time and effort into helping me. Do I really deserve your power?"
There's tears streaming down the boy's face, but they're different than usual. Less like rushing
rivers and more like soft rainfall.
Toshinori understands his sentiment, but flagrantly disagrees. "My boy…" he comforts, "I was
once told that there's a difference between something given and something earned. One is left to
luck, and the other is left to the individual's will. You should never get the two confused."
Midoriya seems to understand and wipes his tears away with the back of his hand. He takes a deep
breath and looks right into Toshinori's eyes. They're still watery and red-rimmed, but they have the
same fiery determination that had quickly become his favorite part about his successor.
"I'm ready."
"Good." Toshinori reaches up into one of his long, bunny-like spikes of hair and pulls a single
yellow strand free. He holds it out to Midoriya. "Young man, you've trained for ten months and
removed thousands of pounds of trash from this beach out of the goodness of your heart. The day
that I met you, I first saw what I thought to be a delusional fool. But I was wrong. You saved that
woman. You spurred me into action, inspiring me to push beyond my limits! That is why you are
the one I've chosen.
"Midoriya Izuku, I hereby entrust my power, One for All, to you." Midoriya carefully grabs hold of
the hair, which Toshinori still holds on at the other end. "Now, eat this!"
"W… what!?"
Toshinori lets go of the hair. It sways in the wind, held firm by Midoriya. "For the power transfer
to work, you have to ingest my DNA, that's how it is!" he explains, awkwardly rubbing his neck.
"Just hurry up and eat before this gets awkward!"
"But—!"
"Eat, eat, eat!"

[x]
The next day, Midoriya shows up to the beach at six AM sharp. All Might had explained that it
would take a day or so for the transfer to work, so it was best for him to rest up before they tried it
out.
Not that Midoriya had done much resting. He could barely sleep the previous night, and before
that spent the entire day researching stockpile Quirks and how to regulate the output of emitter
types.
But now was the moment of truth. The day of reckoning. The most important day of his—
"Ah, young Midoriya! There you are!" The voice of All Might's small form called. Midoriya
always found it interesting how his mentor acted differently after changing sizes.
"Uh, good morning!" Midoriya replied, running down the steps to get to the beach. "Am I late?"
"Not at all! I'm just early," All Might says as Midoriya comes to a stop right in front of him.
They're standing about six or seven feet from the tower of trash Midoriya made the other day,
which he'd probably have to help drag off the beach later. But he'd have a Quirk for that.
Hopefully.
"So, do you feel any different?" All Might asks, bouncing on the balls of his feet.
"Uh, a little. My stomach's all floaty and weightless…"
"Ah, that's just nerves. Don't worry, it'll all be fine." All Might spins around to face the open ocean
and buffs up. "How about a little demonstration!
"First, you have to plant your feet firmly in the ground," his teacher says. "I like to stagger my
stance—it helps deal with the backlash better. Next, you have to stand tall. Make sure to square
your shoulders and puff out your chest. Finally, pull your fist back, clench your buttocks—" "Uh,
what?" "—and yell this from the depths of your heart!"
"SMAAAASH!" All Might's fist shoots forward faster than Midoriya can follow. A massive boom
rips through the air, momentarily rendering him deaf. The ocean is nearly split in two, a large strip
of bare sand nearly a kilometer long separating two ten foot waves appearing to keep the two
mountains of water appart.
"Now," All Might turns around, his smile wide, "your turn!"
It takes a minute for the water to settle, but after it does Midoriya stands roughly where his
mentour did before. All Might himself is a couple feet back, just below the tower of trash. He's in
his skinny form, now, and has his arms crossed.
"Remember to clench your butt!"
"I know!" Midoriya calls back, exasperated. Still, he mentally runs through the crash course he got
earlier. He sets his stance. "Is this okay?"
"Straighten your back more… a bit more… too much! ... That's perfect!"
Midoriya takes a deep breath and shakes out his arms. He can do it. All he has to do is yell smash
and clench his butt. Anyone can do that. He's got this.
He cocks one arm back and takes a massive breath of air. He holds the pose for just a moment
before his arm shoots forward. "Smash!"
Nothing happens. Midoriya opens his eyes, just now realizing that they were closed. The sea is
flowing like normal. There are birds gliding in the wind.
"Wh… what happened? Why didn't it work?" Was it all for nothing? Was he going to be Quirkless
for the rest of his life? How stupid was he to hope? You can't just get a Qui—
A loud crack rips through the air, startling Midoriya. He spins around and sees All Might standing
under the pile of trash, on top of which is a hundred pound fridge, which sways on the edge
dangerously.
The fridge starts to fall, and Midoriya moves.
It doesn't occur to him that his mentor wasn't in any real danger. In fact, he doesn't even think. All
Midoriya does is act.
Using his new Quirk for the first time, he leaps into the air, stirring up waves of both water and
sand behind him with the sheer force of his kickoff. He intercepts the fridge midway, cocking his
fist back to punch. His arm shoots forward, striking true and pulverizing the appliance.
The entire tower of trash falls due to the force, and not a single speck of dust lands on his teacher.
Midoriya only has a second to think holy shit, I did it before he feels his stomach drop. Suddenly,
he's plummeting right to the ground, but All Might catches him right before he hits the sand.
Midoriya can hear his master talking as they descend safely together. It's a bit hazy, though. His
words sound like something about his buttocks and a brilliant smile, but then the man swears in
English before leaping into the air himself.
"Don't worry," he says, "I've got a friend who can patch you up. We'll be there soon."
It's only after they fly over a familiar set of walls and land in the courtyard of the school of his
dreams that Midoriya's adrenaline wears off along with the haze. He realizes very quickly that both
of his legs and one of his arms are completely shattered, and owowowowfuck, that hurts!
"Just hang in there, kid. Only a few more seconds." All Might mutters, breezing through the halls
of U.A at top speed. Eventually, he reaches the medical wing and kicks down a door.
"You can knock, you know," a high and airy voice comes from behind a solid wooden desk. A
small woman stands up on top of her chair. "Toshinori? What are y— what on God's green earth
happened to that boy!?"
All Might carefully sets Midoriya down on a nearby exam table. "He tried to use One for All for
the first time and—"
"You let that happen to your successor!?"
"I didn't just let it hap—"
The woman, who's already gotten up from her desk, cuts All Might off with a hard smack to his left
side. The man spits blood. "Stop talking and let me work!"
All Might deflates and rapidly nods, moving out of the way. The woman carefully gets on top of a
nearby stool to get a better look at Midoriya.
"You're Recovery Girl," he recognizes, finally connecting all the dots. She's his mom's favorite
hero, but Midoriya secretly thinks that she only said that to keep him from dreaming about fighting
villains when he was little.
"That I am, dearie," she says, calmly taking his mangled right arm in her hands. She looks it over
for a moment before moving to study his legs. "Well, as far as I can tell, all of the breaks are clean
and nothing's twisted. You've dislocated your shoulder, though, so that'll have to be fixed before I
heal you. Toshi!"
All Might coughs and sputters in surprise before rushing to the bedside. "Flip the boy over to his
stomach so his bad arm's hanging over the side of the bed. And carefully!" the Youthful Heroine
orders.
All Might quickly complies, wincing every time Midoriya lets out a groan of pain. The boy can
feel all the blood in his arm rush to his broken fingers, which hurts even more. He bites his lip to
muffle a curse.
"Now," Recovery Girl instructs, "firmly grab hold of his upper arm… the part that's not broken,
you big oaf, you're going to pop his shoulder back in, not break more bones!"
"Like this?" All Might asks, gingerly holding onto Midoriya's arm a couple inches below the
shoulder, but still above where his flesh is purple and bruised.
"Yes, but firmly. Good. Now, pull the arm down until you hear a crack. Boy, this is going to hurt,
but you can scream good and loud, understand?" She directs the last part of her instructions to him,
and he nods firmly in response.
All Might draws several deep breaths and takes his time preparing himself mentally. After what
feels like forever, he finally yanks Midoriya's arm down. There's a loud and chilling crack, but it
doesn't hurt as bad as he thought it would. Midoriya rolls his shoulder a bit and whines. It still
hurts.
Recovery Girl gives him a quick kiss on the forehead half a second later, and his limbs feel as good
as knew. It's ridiculously cool to watch his bones maneuver back into place, and Midoriya even
thinks he can feel the healing a bit. But, despite his fascination with the Quirk, he still feels
exhausted after it's over. It makes sense, though, since Recovery Girl's Quirk works with the
recipient's energy.
Despite him being healed, both Recovery Girl and All Might agree that he should be x-rayed to see
if there's any lasting damage. Midoriya complies, but it's a bit weird and awkward, considering the
last time he got an x-ray, his dreams were crushed.
"Hmm," Recovery Girl says, zooming in on different parts of the x-ray of Midoriya's left leg, "I can
tell that this one got the worst of it, though I don't know why… Midoriya, what happened when
you used One for All?"
Midoriya looks over to All Might, who's sitting to his left with a contemplative look. "She knows
the whole truth. It's fine," he explains.
"Well, uh." Midoriya takes a moment to think. "There was this huge pile of trash on the beach that
I stacked. Looking back, it was probably a dumb thing to do, but… anyways, All Might was
standing under it, and a piece started to fall. I couldn't just let it fall on him, so I clenched my butt
and yelled 'Smash,' and then I was falling and now I'm here." He manages to cut himself off before
he rambles too much.
"That doesn't explain why your left leg was worse than your right," Recovery Girl comments.
"He stepped with his left leg first. I remember it very clearly," All Might steps in.
Recovery Girl then very calmly stands from her desk and gets up from her chair. She turns around
and slowly walks towards All Might, who swallows nervously. The man only has a split second to
look scared before she clocks him hard over the head with her cane.
"Yagi Toshinori! When I said you should listen to your heart when picking your successor, I didn't
mean pick a miniature version of you!"
A wad of blood and spit flies out of All Might's mouth at top speed. "He is not a miniature version
of me! He's an overly determined fanboy with a heart of gold and an overactive mind! We're
completely different!"
"Oh, so he's a cross between you and Nighteye, even better."
"I don't know if you realize, but candidates are scarce. Sure, he's not perfect, but he'll get there soo
—!"
"I certainly hope I'm not interrupting anything!" a cheerful voice calls from the door. Midoriya
looks up and over from his feet and sees an empty door frame. "Oh, my apologies. I'm quite short,
so I'll have to come around," the voice says again.
There's the sound of a person sipping tea, followed by a soft sigh of content, then Midoriya hears a
few short footsteps. The owner of the voice steps into view, joining Midoriya and the two heroes
behind Recovery Girl's desk.
"Greetings! I am Nedzu, Principal of UA High. Am I a rat, a dog, or a bear? Who knows!"
"Ohmygodyou'reNedzu!" Midoriya leaps from his seat, rushing forward to shake the principal's
hand, er, paw. "Can I have your autograph?"
The principal chuckles, accepting the handshake with a smile on his scarred face. "Why certainly,
but only if you try to get into UA. It would be an honor to train All Might's successor!"
"G-g-g-good afternoon, sir," All Might greets, carefully standing and growing to his muscle form.
"Your fur looks especially luxurious today!"
"Oh, stop with the flattery, Yagi. I wasn't even your principal." Nedzu takes a sip of tea and lets go
of Midoriya's hand. "Though both you and Recovery Girl should be more careful with your
arguments. You're all very lucky the medical wing is empty this early in the morning. If it was any
later in the day, someone might've overheard!"
"We wouldn't have to worry about arguments if this buffoon was more careful with his successor!"
Recovery Girl says sharply.
Nedzu takes a quick look at the x-rays on the computer. "I take it the backlash was far too great for
—Midoriya, is it?" The boy nods. "For Midoriya to handle. Those breaks look bad. Why, I don't
think I've ever heard of a leg breaking in over ten pieces!"
"I'll work with the boy on that, sir. Rest assured, by the entrance exam, he'll have it under control!"
All Might rushes to reassure.
"You better," Recovery Girl warns, "if he breaks his limbs like that too many times, he could lose
use of them."
"What!?" Midoriya cries, rubbing his legs rapidly.
"There's no need to worry," Nedzu soothes, "something that severe will take multiple breaks of
similar magnitude, and Yagi is already working hard to help you!"
Midoriya calms down a bit and sits back down in his chair. "That's only a little reassuring..."
"Here at UA, we take student safety very seriously. You'll be supervised by our top-notch staff
every time you use your Quirk. There's really no worry!" Nedzu turns from Midoriya to All Might.
"I take it he just received One for All today?"
"Yes, sir. He actually first used it to save me from a piece of falling trash."
"My, my, how heroic." Nedzu looks back at Midoriya, but his gaze is different now. Less overly
peppy and more intensely fascinated. "I can't wait until you make it into my school, Midoriya. I'd
love to help shape your mind and spirit."
Chapter End Notes
To be honest, I'm not as happy with this one. It just doesn't feel as good, you know?
Whatever, if it's horrible I can always just edit it later.
Next one with feature Gran Torino, which will be fun. Hopefully.
Anyways, thanks for any feedback and cheers!

Gran Torino
Chapter Notes
"Alright, Fanboy," All Might yells, striking a bodybuilder's pose with the ocean as a backdrop, "hit
me with your best Detroit Smash!"
Midoriya jumps back in shock, almost slipping on the wet sand of Dagobah beach. "But you saw
what happened to me last time! If I punch you again, I'll break my arm!"
"Ah, but here's the thing!" his mentor explains, "When you hit a person for the first time with this
Quirk, it keeps the output low, so you don't accidentally splatter someone on a wall." He takes a
stance similar to that of a boxer and holds out a palm, facing it flat towards Midoriya. "Now,
c'mon! Hit me!"
Midoriya looks down at his hands. He tries to remember how it felt when he used One for All last
time, but everything's blank other than the vague comparison of an egg in a microwave. He'll have
to settle for All Might's instructions again if he wants to do it. "Alright, if you say it's safe..."
His mentor nods eagerly, though waits patiently while he runs through the checklist. "I just need to
punch this time, so maybe if I focus on my arm, my legs will be fine?" Midoriya mutters, backing
up so he has room to get a running start. Once he's about ten or so feet away, he pulls his right arm
back and sprints as hard as he can. He feels One for All course through him, noticing the sheer raw
power it contains for the first time, concentrated entirely in his right arm. He nearly backs out,
scared that it will blow his limb to bits, but at the last second, right when his fist is about to strike
All Might's palm, the power level sharply dips.
"Smash!" A light gust of wind rushes through Midoriya's hair and open jacket. His fist is held
tightly by All Might's hand. There's no pain. He doesn't even realize that he closed his eyes until he
starts to open them.
Midoriya pulls his arm back, looking at it in wonder. "I… I did it..." he whispers.
"That you did, my boy, that you did." All Might inspects his palm. "Hmm, that wasn't too much
power, but considering you can only handle the bare minimum, it'll do for the time being."
"So what's my training going to look like now?" Midoriya asks, eagerly shifting from foot to foot.
His mood has already drastically improved. "Will we get to spar?"
All Might laughs, "No, no, we won't do combat training just yet. You need to get better at
controlling and getting a feel for your limit first." He strolls over to the fallen pile of trash and picks
out the back half of an old sedan. "Practice on this everyday that I'm not here before and after you
do your regular trash cleaning, taking care to regulate the power. Once all of the junk is gone, I'll
get you into a real gym."
"What about the rest of today and when you are here?"
"You'll practice on me, of course. Now, take another hit so you get a better feel for your level." All
Might holds out one of his hands again. "You may have completed the first step, but you've got a
long road ahead of you."
Midoriya nods, determined. "I promise I'll keep working hard!"
"That's what I like to hear! Now, hit me!"
"Detroit Smash!"
[x]
A week goes by, with Midoriya's spirit the highest it's been in years. Something about having a
Quirk, itching under his skin, ready to activate makes him feel as light as a feather. People at
school were as usual, but now that the year is wrapping up they've all just seemed to forget about
the quiet, Quirkless third year.
Midoriya went home every night that week and practiced turning One for All on and off in his
room for hours. It was hard at first, but he does it so often that it now only takes a couple seconds
to flip on in a limb.
Regulating the power is another story, however. All Might had once mentioned offhandedly that,
in his prime, he could generate enough force to affect the weather patterns in an area four times the
size of Manhattan. And on top of that, All Might's one hundred percent was probably somewhere
around his seventy or eighty percent, if his mentor was to be believed.
He still practices, though. At first, it takes intense concentration, and Midoriya very nearly levels
his apartment complex on accident. His limit is around five percent by his estimate, so he mostly
focuses on keeping it at or below that level. By Saturday, he's got a good enough handle on it to
make sure he won't accidently hurt himself, though the output tends to fluctuate from anywhere
between two and five percent.
His training on the beach continues, with All Might showing up on Monday and Thursday. He
supervises Midoriya as he hauls bigger and bigger pieces of trash away, and coaches him on how
to properly throw a punch.
It's Saturday now, though, and Midoriya is happily sitting on the last piece of trash left on the
beach. It's an old engine block, rusted over and brown. It's probably staining his pants, but he
doesn't care. The next step is coming.
Midoriya closes his eyes, taking in the rays of the setting sun and the crisp sea breeze with a bright
smile. School the previous day was really easy, and he got to take notes on a hero fight on the walk
home. What's more was the fact that it was Gang Orca he got to see. The man had stopped a bank
robbery with amazing efficiency, and Midoriya got to see the rare event that was a water-based
hero fighting on land.
A soft patter of footsteps on the sand behind him interrupts his thoughts. Midoriya looks over his
shoulder. "Oh, hi, All Might," he greets, waving even though his mentor is only two feet away.
"Good evening, Young Midoriya. I take it that's the last piece?" All Might's bundled up in a long,
cream trench coat with a violet scarf around his neck.
"Yeah. I got everything but this one in the dumpster a couple minutes ago." Midoriya stands,
brushing rust off his pants.
All Might looks thoughtfully out to sea for a moment. He closes his eyes and sighs. "We're sparing
today. Just get that engine block in the back of my truck and we can start."
Midoriya quickly complies, leaping over the seawall with five percent One for All channeled into
his legs. He kind of botches the leap back, but he can't bring himself to care. He's going to learn
how to fight from All Might.
"Right, since this is your first real practice match, we'll go easy." All Might grows to his hero form.
"Don't be intimidated by my stature or my reputation. Right now, I am your teacher."
It's hard not to be, but Midoriya nods anyway. "So… do we just, uh, start?"
"Real fights don't have starting guns," All Might says.
"So is that a n—"
All Might cuts him off with a quick swipe to his head, which Midoriya barely ducks. "Keep on
your toes, you zygote!"
They spar until sundown, and Midoriya gets more than a couple bruises, but he couldn't be happier.
[x]
Toshinori looks up at the moon. It shines brightly, lighting up the sea and casting long, narrow
shadows on the world. It's full tonight, he notes. Something about the moon has always made him
more thoughtful. Or maybe it was the stars surrounding it, though this close to the city, there were
no stars.
The man taps his thigh gently with his hand, which is bathed in moonlight. He has to be honest
with himself now, or he'll never be a good teacher. Young Midoriya's progress is too slow.
The boy learns quickly and practices diligently. He hangs off every word Toshinori says, almost
taking it like gospel. He even smiles when he fights, bright and fierce. But he's far too stiff. Every
attack is telegraphed seconds in advance, and the time in between moves is way great. He's missing
something, but Toshinori can't figure out what for the life of him.
That's why Toshinori is holding his phone in his hands as he sits in his truck after another night of
training. He's shaking, too, which does little to help his state.
There's five and a half weeks before the U.A entrance exam, and he knows his successor doesn't
have the technical skills to get enough robot kills to get in. Shiketsu is also an option, but they're
very cutthroat, and Midoriya wouldn't be at his best there.
Of course, there's a solution to the problem. Toshinori knows this well. It's actually pretty simple,
if he's honest, which he always tries to be. But at the same time, it's also so, so difficult.
With a deep breath, Toshinori selects a contact and hits the call button. While it rings, he thinks.
Will he be ignored? Sent to voicemail? Will his teacher even care?
The person on the other end finally picks up with a confused "Hello?"
"Uh, hello. Is this Sorahiko?"
There's a pause. "Who is this?"
"It's All Might."

"Who?"
"All Might."
"Toshinori?"
"Yes! It's me!"
"Why are you calling me, Toshinori?" The voice is still soft and confused, and he can practically
see the innocent old man facade his teacher is wearing.
"I've found my successor, and I need your help."
The line goes very quiet for a while. Then, "Why didn't you lead with that, you big oaf!? And what
do you need my help for? I'm an old man!"
Toshinori winces. "I'm not a good teacher—" "You can say that again." "—and so I need you to
give the boy some pointers. Just two days." What Toshinori doesn't say is that spending more than
forty-eight hours in the same city as Gran Torino would be hell.
"... Fine. But the brat better be worth it!"
[x]
It's the second week of January, and Midoriya is very, very confused. "Wait, so you don't want to
be my teacher anymore?"
"No, no! That's not what I mean!" All Might spits a wad of blood into the sand. "I'd just… like for
you to see someone else briefly. Learning from just one person isn't good. And it's not like I'm
throwing you to the street, the man's m-m-my former teacher." He wavers a bit at the end and his
legs start to shake, which confuses Midoriya even more, and even adds a tinge of worry.
"Just how scary is this guy?" he half mutters.
All Might looks at him with a serious expression. There's fear in his eyes. "Very."
Midoriya swallows. His mouth feels dry for some reason. "S-so, where do I meet this guy?"
"Here's the address. It's an old building I rented out to be your gym. We'll use it after Gran
Torino's… done with you." He hands Midoriya a small slip of paper.
"D… do I just show up tomorrow after school?" Midoriya asks, focusing more on the sheet of
paper than All Might.
"Yes. And… good luck, kid. Gran takes no prisoners."
[x]
The building Gran Torino is waiting in is an old one. It was about three stories tall and made of red
and black brick. The roof was flat and had what looked like an old jungle gym made of pipes on
top. The windows were boarded up, and the fire escape on the side was rusted. A crude wooden
sign that read Gym Midoriya was hung over the heavy metal door.
Carefully turning the handle and pushing in, Midoriya entered. The lights were off, and he
clumsily waved his hand over the wall. Eventually, he found a switch, and the lights flicked on.
Taking a look around, Midoriya noticed that the room was filled with workout equipment and
boxes. The building was probably one of those restaurant/apartment hybrids before it was sold
because there was also a counter in the far end and a staircase leading up.
"Uh, hello?" Midoriya calls, carefully taking off his backpack and setting it on a nearby bench.
"I'm looking for a person named Gran Torino? Are they here?"
There's a small sign sitting on top of the counter. Midoriya approaches it, feeling slightly unsafe.
"Upstairs," he reads out loud, "Toshi says you're great, but we'll see about that. -GT."
He quickly grabs his backpack again before climbing up the staircase. It's narrow and creaky,
which doesn't help his nerves. Once he gets to the top, he fumbles for another light switch and
nearly jumps out of his skin when the room lights up.
"Oh my god, he's dead!" There's the body of an old man, laying on the floor in a pool of blood and
what looks like entrails. Midoriya drops his backpack. "Oh, god, oh, god, what do I do? I should
call—"
"I'm not dead!" the old man exclaims, pushing up. "I just took a fall while carrying some
sausages!"
Midoriya looks around the room. It's probably twenty feet tall, and all cold, grey stone, with lots of
protruding slabs of concrete. There's some pillars that go from floor to ceiling, and table-like
rectangles of varying height. Why would Gran Torino be making sausages in here?
"Say, kid, who are you?" Gran Torino walks over and starts to poke at his backpack with his cane
"Uh, I'm Midoriya," he says. The man is very clearly senile, which kind of makes sense. He taught
All Might, so Midoriya knew he'd be old from the get-go. But this is almost too much.
"Toshinori?" Gran Torino asks.
"Midoriya," the boy corrects.
"Toshinori, what are you doing here?"
"I said my name is Midoriya!" The boy sighs. Then, the old man bends over and starts digging
through his backpack. "Wait, you can't just dig through my stuff!"
But then, almost at the flick of a switch, Gran Torino changes. "Hmm. You've got good workout
clothes and wrist weights. You came prepared for this." He's suddenly gruff and serious, inspecting
Midoriya's green track pants and grey sweatshirt with a critical eye.
"Can you stop, it's not like you can just look through my bag!" Midoriya tries to stop him.
"Sure I can! Now, why don't you fire off a One for All smash at me," Gran Torino says after
throwing the set of gym clothes Midoriya brought on to a nearby hunk of concrete.
"I—what? Right now? But I'm not even warmed up!"
"Pfft, warmed up. I'll get you warmed up after you show me how you fight." Gran Torino gets into
a loose fighting stance a couple feet away from him. "Any day now!"
Midoriya bows his head in acceptance, "Alright," he says, tapping into One for All and cocking his
left arm back. He rushes forward and swings his arm at five percent, aiming down so he hits Gran
Torino across the face. But he only hits solid air.
"Oh, that's pathetic! You're so stiff and awkward! Toshinori wasn't kidding," Gran Torino berates,
casually resting on a lumpy section of the wall. "Get your butt changed. I can already tell that I've
got a lot to teach. We're gonna be here a while."
Midoriya changes at top speed, and quickly re-enters the training room. He doesn't even get the
chance to ask a question before Gran Torino slams into his back, drilling him to the floor.
"Keep on your toes, kid! Did Toshinori teach you nothing?" The older man pushes back off, and
Midoriya stands. Gran Torino very clearly relies on speed in his fighting style, and Midoriya can
tell by his movements that the room is perfect for him.
Narrowly ducking an attack, Midoriya leaps to put his back to a pillar. If Gran Torino attacks
chaotically, then limiting his options should help.
"Hey, you're not dumb. That's good," Gran Torino slams a fist into Midoriya's ribs, who didn't even
see him coming, "but not good enough!"
Midoriya quickly recovers, pushing up in time to take a kick to the thigh. Gran Torino continues to
bounce around the room, diving in for a hit every now and then. As time goes by, it becomes
clearer and clearer that there's a pattern.
"Left, right, right, left, right, above, behind, behind, front, left, right, above…" Midoriya mutters,
biding his time. Finally, after a couple more minutes of being hit, the moment shows itself. Gran
Torino pushes off the ceiling, and Midoriya throws himself to the ground, rolling to his back. At
the last second, he pushes up with one hand and throws a punch directly at Gran Toino's head. The
man simply tilts to one side before giving his student an uppercut.
"Good eye, but you can't always sit and wait for the right moment." Gran Torino lands on the
ground in front of Midoriya. "Real fights don't always have perfect moments, and natural disasters
never do. Biding a time like you did is a good skill, but overuse will get you killed."
"I understand," Midoriya says, kicking at the floor in disappointment.
"Wipe that look off your face. You did good for a newbie. Better than All Might, anyways. At least
you didn't puke your guts out."
"All Might did what?"
"I'll tell ya later. For now, I'm gonna eat some dinner. You're welcome to join me, or you can
practice on those pipes on the roof. Just be careful, I don't wanna scrape you off the pavement!"
Midoriya chooses to go up to the roof for more practice. It's a no-brainer, really. He needs more
practice. All the other kids taking the entrance exam have had at least eleven years to get used to
their Quirks, but he's only had One for All for a since December. The exam's in five weeks, so he
needs every bit of practice.
The roof of the building is wide and shrouded by a four foot tall stone wall. The bulk of the floor
space is taken up by the ten foot jungle gym in the middle, but there's also a punching bag in one
corner and another corner styled like a boxing ring.
The jungle gym on the roof looks old, but a quick shake shows that the welds and metal are both
strong. The design is old and would probably give his mother a heart attack. The shapes the pipes
make are all inconsistent and off-kilter, crisscrossing every which way. It's clearly made for
someone his size, too, which is odd. Maybe it's so he can work on his flexibility?
Grabbing onto a pipe, Midoriya climbs up the jungle gym. He feels himself slipping and quickly
activates his Quirk. He overshoots the next pipe and has to use his left leg to kick back up.
It continues like that for a while, with him maneuvering all over the pipes, sometimes going scarily
fast. At one point, he even swings a full circle around a particularly high pipe before landing on the
ground.
"That was pretty good, but your admiration for All Might is like shackles. It'll only slow you
down." Midoriya looks up to see Gran Torino, who's standing with a plate of steaming pastries.
"Uh..." Midoriya says, unsure of how to respond. His admiration for All Might was what made it
possible for him to keep going, and now that was a bad thing?
"Don't think too hard about it. C'mon, let's get some more practice in before you gotta go home."
The sparing after that goes a little better. Midoriya tries to mimic Gran Torino for a bit, but he
quickly realizes that the focus needed to channel One for All first to his legs, then to his arms, then
back again is way too difficult for him to achieve.
In fact, the focus needed to repeatedly turn the Quirk on and off is way too much for him. Towards
the end of the practise session, Midoriya just settles on keeping the power in his arms at five
percent.
It goes well until he loses concentration and accidentally hits with what feels like seven or eight
percent. It's not too bad, but Gran Torino still sends him home a whole half hour early because,
"You've messed up once like that, and it'll just get worse the more you practice. Come back first
thing tomorrow morning."
[x]
That night after dinner, Midoriya takes a shower. His mom raised a fuss about the bruises and cuts
that Gran Torino gave him, but he brushed her off. He needed to think.
The water was hot and steamy, fogging up the mirror and making the tile floor slightly wet.
Slipping in, Midoriya lets the water hit his head before it trails down his body. His hair's a pain to
wash, so he only bothers every other day. He washes his face next, and his body. Once he's done,
he rinses off the soap that was all over his body.
All over his body.
Why was that thought sticking with him? He's showered like this forever—heck, everyone has. It's
the most efficient way of cleaning yourself. What else were you supposed to do? Wash one arm at
a time?
Wait.
Midoriya quickly gets out of the shower and dries off. Ignoring the fact that there's still some soap
on his face, he activates One for All, but this time it's different.
Instead of just one or both arms, or even his legs, Midoriya lets a steady level of five percent flow
through his body. It's tough, but not uncomfortable. He can move like this.
"I've got it!" Midoriya jumps, and promptly hits his head on the ceiling of the bathroom. He landed
on the floor with a thump and scampered back up.
"Honey, are you alright?" his mom yells from the kitchen.
"Yeah, I'm alright! Just… slipped and fell!" Midoriya replies, hurriedly putting on his pajamas.
"Are you sure?" his mom calls again. She sounds worried, and there's footsteps coming down the
hall.
"Yeah, I'm sure. It's nothing bad." Midoriya opens the bathroom door to see his mom standing right
outside. "The floor was wet, so..."
"Sweetie," his mom says gently. Her eyes are already watering. "Last year, when you said you
wanted to bulk up, I was happy. Those meals aren't cheap, but that was okay. You were doing so
much better!" She sniffs and wipes away a tear. "But now, you're gone from five in the morning
until ten at night! It's just… I'm worried! And today you even came home with bruises!"
"Oh, Mom…" Midoriya says, because, what else can he? He hasn't told her anything about what
he's doing or why. He's done nothing but give her the bare minimum and expected everything back.
"Please, Izuku, baby, just tell me what's going on! I don't know if I can take much more of this!"
"I…" Midoriya tries to say, but he falters. "It's nothing bad, I promise," he tries again, looking at
the floor, "it's just… hard to share. But I'll try! Just… let me think for a moment?"
His mom nods slightly before walking off to the living room, and Midoriya slowly sits down in the
ground. He rests his head in his hands.
Why is this so hard? Having a Quirk is a great thing and all he's ever wanted. Telling his mom
should be easy! But it's not. Every time he thinks about it, he sees that face.
"Oh, Izuku, I'm so sorry!"
The memory runs on repeat through his mind. It hurts every time, stabbing him through the heart.
He tries to mouth the words and practice what he'll say, but all he can see are those tear-filled eyes.
But he has to do this.
Pushing off the floor, Midoriya slinks into his room and grabs a grip trainer. It's the heaviest one
he's got, so he can barely close it on a good day. Walking out to the living room, he envisions that
awful memory merging with the grip trainer.
"Mom," he says, standing just inside the living room. His mom looks up from her tissue. "I… have
a Quirk."
Midoriya channels a small stream of One for All into his hand and squeezes the grip trainer as hard
as he can. It snaps in two before falling to the floor. The memory goes with it.
The both of them cry hard late into the night, forgiving and apologizing over and over again.
Chapter End Notes

To be honest, I'm happier with how this one turned out then I was with chapter 2. It
just came together a lot easier, and the editing stage was a cinch.
I'm moving along pretty quickly plot wise because I want Midoriya in UA. I've got
some fun ideas for his first year that'll hopefully turn out good.
I'd appreciate any feedback.
Cheers
Float
Chapter Notes
Hi, this one has a big manga spoiler, specifically for chapter 257. If you don't care
about spoilers or have read chapter 257, then go ahead and read. If you haven't, then
you'll probably have to catch up or drop this story. The spoiler is pretty integral to the
plot. Sorry.
As of March 27, 2021 this chapter has been edited and reformated by my beta, flauel
Toshinori smiles as he locks the door of his pickup. A swift breeze blows through his hair as he
walks up the steps to Gym Midoriya.
Gran Torino's two days were up, and now Toshinori would see how well they worked. Knowing
Gran, Young Midoriya was probably beat until he figured something out, which, while a bit
inhumane, was probably necessary. U.A only accepted the best of the best, after all.
Pulling out his key and reaching for the doorknob, Toshinori realizes that the front door is ajar. He
furrows his eyebrows. Midoriya isn't due at the gym for another ten minutes.
Looking over his shoulder and stepping inside, Toshinori grows to his hero form and closes the
door behind him. Better to be safe than sorry.
The first floor looks intact, though there are some weights in the wrong places. Midoriya probably
worked out some since he saw him last. Toshinori would have to teach the boy to keep the weight
area tidy.
The door to the basement (which is really just a seven by seven by seven hole in the ground) is
open, which is even more worrying. Nothing's in there yet, and the door had been locked tight.
Toshinori had plans for an office or file room down there to keep track of the boy's progress, which
may never come into fruition if there's an intruder problem.
Typical hero protocol stated that in a situation like this, the person searching the house should go
from floor to floor, bottom to top, so Toshinori makes for the basement. The steps are very creaky,
and barely able to support his weight, but Toshinori still makes it down and stops.
"What on earth?" The basement had been turned into a makeshift bedroom, with a space heater, a
soft Persian rug, and a twin sized bed that was drowning in blankets. There's even a small dresser
and a fridge, though both were empty. The walls are partially painted a dark grey from the ground
to about four feet up, like some kind of hobbit wanted to remodel.
Was somebody squatting in Gym Midoriya? Or was the boy himself living here now? Both were
equally worrying.
A loud thump two floors up shakes Toshinori from his thoughts. Someone is definitely here. He
races up the two floors of stairs and runs right into the cement floor. There, Toshinori sees a pair of
blurs, one yellow and one green, chasing each other midair.
One seems to take notice of him and makes a turn right in his direction. In a split second, All
Might, the world's Symbol of Peace, is flat on his back, coughing blood.
"You're late!" a gruff voice reprimands. "The boy and I were just getting warmed up."
"Gran..?" Toshinori wheezes, slimming down and sitting up. "You're still here… you're still here!"
He shoots to his feet, hurriedly brushing off any dust from his shirt.
Gran Torino scoffs, "You say that like it's a bad thing, you overgrown zygote." He turns around
and cups his hands around his mouth. "Kid, stop for a moment and say hi to your idiot teacher!"
The green blur, which hadn't stopped bouncing around the room, stopped. It landed on the floor in
a sloppy roll, and straightened out. There, dressed in a worn out Bronze Age All Might hoodie and
a pair of sweats, was Young Midoriya. "Hi, All Might!" The boy waves cheerfully.
"Now get back to work! That roll was awful!" Gran Torino orders, turning around and ignoring a
bright 'Yes, sir!'
Toshinori took a moment to pick his jaw off of the floor. "He learned all of that in two days?"
"Yep. He's not perfect yet, but between you, me, and whatever UA has up their sleeve, that boy's
gonna be a real monster one day." Gran Torino sneaks a glance over his shoulder. He almost looks
impressed, which is horrifying.
"Wait," Toshinori swallows, "'between you and me'?" he quotes, fearing the answer.
"Eh, I figured why not," Toshinori feels his heart palpate at his teacher's words, "I've got nothing
better to do, and the boy's kinda great—just don't tell him I said that."
"But what about your hero duties? This city is really dull, and you'll be leaving your old post a man
down!"
"Pssh, that part of the country's as sleepy as a nursing home, just like this one. Not to mention
there's plenty of pros," Gran Torino argues. "Besides, bullet trains exist if I need to get somewhere,
and I get a Senior discount."
Toshinori, unfortunately, can't find a fault in the man's logic and wearily looks up to his successor
for a distraction. The boy does a twirl midair, followed by a summersault, and lands with a roll.
Then, he pushes up and leaps to the ceiling. He bounces off of it and ricochets off a set of pillars.
"Oi, quit showboating!" Gran Torino yells, "I told you to build good habits for real fights, not
practice showing off for girls!"
"Sorry, Gran!" Midoriya apologies, slowing down. Toshinori idly wonders how fine his control
over the power is. "It's so fun! I've never moved this fast before!" He does a barrel roll and nearly
faceplants into a wall. "Whoops!"
Gran Torino sighs heavily. "I suppose I can't fault him, I was the same way when I could use my
Quirk freely. Luckily, I grew out of it."
"Yes, sometimes I forget he's only fifteen," Toshinori agrees. "He works so hard and is very mature.
At least, when it comes to thinking like a pro. Come to think of it, has he shown you his notebooks
yet?"
"No, he hasn't. What are they, full of autographs?"

"Yes and no," Toshinori says, looking away from Midoriya, "I think they started as a way for him
to show his adoration for heroes. You know how kids are these days."
"Hey, All Might, Gran? Can I get some help?" Midoriya asks from afar. He's ignored.
"Boy, do I ever. I'm old as dirt, and I still get ankle biters bugging me while I'm on patrol just
'cause I've got a cape. Wasn't like that back in the day, not at all."
"Uh, All Might?" Midoriya asks again, sounding much more worried.
"Yeah. But Young Midoriya's notebooks are full of insightful entries on heroics as a whole.
Costume design, super moves, catchphrases, fighting styles, Quirk laws, rescue protocols. The
boy's a fanatic."
"All Might, help!" Midoriya shouts shakily.
Toshinori and Gran Torino look up and around but see nothing. They look on the floor. Still
nothing.
"I'm up here..." Midoriya says weakly.
Toshinori looks up. There, in the middle of the room, hovering fifteen feet above the floor, is
Midoriya.
"What on earth..." Toshinori mutters. Beside him, Gran Torino says the roughly the same, albeit
much more vulgarly.
"I can't"—Midoriya shoots off to the left before stopping suddenly—"control"—he shoots up and
then down, stopping with the soles of his shoes a half inch from the cement—"myself!"
Then, Midoriya's eyes roll back, becoming a milky white, and he collapses to the floor,
unconscious.
[x]
He scratches his head and opens his eyes, but he's assaulted by a blinding, multicolored beam of
light. He quickly covers his face with one hand and sits up. He opens his eyes again, slowly this
time. It takes a while, but eventually he's able to see through all the colors.
The first thing he notices is that he's on a beach. The white sand is a comforting, familiar ground to
lay on. The second thing he notices is the sky. It's different. There are still stars, but they're faint
and tiny. There's no moon, and the vast majority of wherever he is is dominated by eight spheres.
The one furthest to the right is the smallest. It glows a soft white, like the North Star.
The second is almost twice as big as the first, shining a beautiful cobalt blue. It's relatively close to
the first, and the two seem to bleed into each other.
The third is a lush, ruby red. It's far from the second, and bigger, too.
The fourth is close to the third, glowing a harsh acid green. It's the same size as the third.
The fifth is a warm orange and close to the fourth. It's bigger, too, but not by much.
The sixth is a soft lavender. It's bigger than the fifth but shines nearly as bright.
The seventh is purple, too, though a rich, royal looking one. It's comforting and shines the second
brightest.
The eighth is by far the biggest. It's a bright gold and dwarfs the others by a mile. Still, it's not
brash like the fourth. It feels… hopeful.
"Ah, I see you've made it here. Congrats. It took me years. You must be special."
Midoriya scampers away, startled by the voice in his ear. "W-what?"
The voice laughs. "I'm not going to hurt you. You're safe here, can't you feel it?"
"I… I can," Midoriya agrees. "W-where are you?"
"I'm here," the voice says from behind. Midoriya whirls around to see… a woman? "Not what you
were expecting?" She cocks her head.
"Nonono!" Midoriya defends, "it's just… who are you?"
The woman looks like a pro hero. She's tall and muscular, with a white cape, yellow pants and
boots, a black bodysuit, and a red sash that's tied around her waist. Her hair is put up in a messy
ponytail, and her eyes are a bright, intelligent grey. There's a beauty mark on the left side of her
chin, and her smile is soft and fond.
"Me? I'm the Seventh," she says, "it's nice to meet you, Ninth. You can call me Nana."
"Seventh? Ninth? Wait, wait, wait, does this have to do with One for All?" Midoriya scratches his
head. What even is this? A hallucination? A fever dream?
"Yes. Ask Toshinori about it later, but right now, I have a job to do," Nana says. Then, she shoots
into the air and over to Midoriya. "My Float is a great Quirk. When I was still alive, I used it to
save many people." As she spoke, the beach started to glow a bright white, and everything began to
fade.
"Wait, you're going too fast!" Midoriya says, trying to grab hold of Nana. He barely gets half a
finger on her cape.
"There's no time, kid, you're waking up," Nana hushes. "Anyways, it's a lot stronger than it used to
be—you can thank Toshinori for that. When I was in my prime, I could only suspend myself and
move slowly in one direction. Now you could probably use it to fly."
"Fly?! What are you talking about?" Midoriya shouts. Everything's starting to get really hazy, and
he's losing his balance.
"Fly, kid. I mean really fly. Like a bird, but better," Nana says a bit impatiently. "Anyways, wear a
helmet when you practice, and find out what triggers it for you. Bye, Ninth. And… good luck."
Everything fades to black, and he wakes.
[x]
The first thing Midoriya feels is a large, callused hand repeatedly smacking him in the face.
"Kid!" a voice shouts, "Midoriya, wake up!"
"You can't just slap the boy, you justice-obsessed oaf! He could have a concussion!" another,
slightly angry sounding voice says.
Midoriya cracks open one green eye and tries to sit up. He falls back down with a huff. "What…
happened...?" he asks.
"You tell us, kid," Gran Torino says, "you've been out for ten minutes."
"Yes," All Might agrees, "I'd like to know why you were floating like my master." He lets out a
soft curse as Gran Torino snacks him with his cane and tells him to be more patient.
"Your master?" Midoriya asks, rubbing his eyes and propping himself up on his elbows. "Wait! I
had a vision!"
"A… vision?" All Might questions, shifting away and cocking his head to one side. He looks
thoughtful.
"Yeah, uh, there was this beach, and eight suns, and a woman," Midoriya lists, "I think her name
was Nana, and she told me to wear a helmet, and something about triggers? And—"
"Kid, slow down!" Gran Torino stops him, looking about ten years older than he did just a second
earlier. "Start from the beginning and go slow."
Midoriya nods and stands up before recounting what he saw in the vision. Some things are a bit
fuzzy, but he can remember perfectly how the stars felt and looked, along with the woman. Her
words aren't as clear, but a few stick.
Nana, Float, Seventh, Helmet.
"And that's all you remember?" All Might asks, leaning against a hunk of concrete. He looks like
he desperately wants to push for more, but doesn't.
"Yeah, I think so," Midoriya says, fiddling with the strings of his hoodie. "Do you know what this
means, All Might?"
His mentor regards him for a long moment, looking thoughtful. "About the visions? No. My master
only mentioned them once offhandedly and didn't go into detail." All Might looks Midoriya deep in
the eye. "But I have had one. The day I got this." He taps his left side and flinches.
"Who is she?" Midoriya asks. "The woman, I mean."
"Shimura Nana," Gran Torino answers. "The seventh wielder of One for All."
"Seventh..." Midoriya mutters. "Is this normal?"
"No, everything about this—getting more Quirks, visions—is actually quite spooky," All Might
answers hollowly, "but considering the origins of One for All..."
"It's not exactly a surprise," Gran Torino finishes.
"What are you guys talking about? Origins? What even is One for All?" Midoriya rapid-fires.
All Might and Gran Torino exchange glances. They nod. "It's better if we sit down for this. Let's go
downstairs," the older one says.
It takes some time for his mentor to gather his thoughts, but the contemplative expression
disappears from his face.
"Young Midoriya, you know that One for All can be passed down?"
Midoriya nods.
"And you know that you're the Ninth."
Another nod.
All Might takes a deep breath. "It all starts with two brothers at the dawn of an era…
"You see, after the Luminescent Baby, people everywhere started to get powers of all kinds. At
first, nothing really changed. There just weren't enough people with Quirks around to shake things
up. But after the years went by, more and more children were born with abilities.
"Twenty years after that first Quirked baby was when things really started to change. There were
riots, protests, battles in the streets, massacres. Those without Quirks started to fear and were
consumed by it."
"'Had it not been for Quirks, humanity would be vacationing among the stars,'" Midoriya quotes. "I
read that in a textbook once."
Gran Torino grunts. "The wars started pretty quickly after they passed Quirk laws. Those with
abilities either saw themselves as betters being oppressed or as cursed. They fought back or
endured the hate. But one man rose to unify the Quirked."
"All for One," All Might says softly. He covers his left side with one palm. "He started and led
several revolutionary groups, gaining many followers with his ability, which he shared a name
with.
"With his power, he could give and take Quirks."
Midoriya feels his lips move, mouthing a swear his mother would have fainted at.
"Yes," All Might agrees, "it's very concerning. But, this man, All for One, had a frail younger
brother. He was Quirkless, but had a strong sense of justice. He tried to stop his older brother, but
was defeated."
"Whether it was out of pity or a move to force his brother to submit, All for One forced a Quirk
onto his sibling," Gran Torino continues. "It was a stockpiler that allowed the user to build up mass
amounts of power and use it to make their body stronger."
"But the younger brother, as it turned out, wasn't so Quirkless." Midoriya's head snaps to look at
All Might. "Yes, the younger brother had the ability to pass down Quirks. It's rather useless on its
own, but once it merged with the stockpiler…"
"It made something new," Midoriya breathes, "One for All."
"And that's the origin of this power of ours," All Might finishes, "something born of evil, but
changed by the heart of a hero to destroy its creator."
The three of them sit in silence for a moment. The air is thick with emotion, worry and fear being
most prevalent in Midoriya.
"This All for One, is he still around? What happened to the other holders? Are we safe?" the boy
asks.
"All the previous users were killed by All for One, except Toshinori," Gran Torino speaks, gazing
at his cane thoughtfully. "The bastard's gone now, thanks to ye old Symbol of Peace."
All Might smiles sadly, "I beat him, but at a cost. He's the one that forced me to take this form."
Midoriya tries to imagine what that fight must've been like. Faster than the eye can see, he decides.
Fast, but at the same time drawn out and brutal, something that should be in a history book or made
into a movie. Just imagining what someone could do with hundreds of years of Quirks gives him
shivers.
"So what now?" Midoriya asks. "What's the point of this power if its objective is complete?"
"I may have finished off All for One like the power was meant to," All Might says, "but the
world's not safe. I'm weak now, and I'll probably have to retire in the next five years or so. But the
world will still need a Symbol.
"This power, it's not meant to eliminate anymore, but instead, it's meant to make the world safe,
and keep it happy. You're the next me. I trust that you'll fill my shoes well, Midoriya Izuku."
They sit like that for a while, Midoriya in amazement, All Might in contemplation, and Gran
Torino in memory.
But then, Midoriya realizes something. "So I probably have eight Quirks!?"
"Not eight," Gran Torino corrects, "Toshinori was Quirkless, so seven at most, if you count One
for All. We don't know much about any of the users but Nana, but we'll work on that." Then, after a
pause, "If you ask me, the first couple probably didn't have Quirks."
Midoriya must look absolutely distraught, because All Might rushes to comfort, "It's not that big of
a deal! I never showed any signs of the Quirks of the previous users. You might only get Float, or
maybe this was a one-time thing. It'll be fine. The physical enhancement aspect will be plenty for
you to take my place as the Symbol of Peace!"
"It's just kind of a lot to handle since I've never had a Quirk before, but I'm sure I'll manage with
you two, but what will people say if I suddenly show off more than one Quirk? Will they think I'm
with All for One? No, he's dead, but what about his followers? It's just so stressful—"
"Midoriya!" All Might gives him a firm chop to the shoulder. "Quit word vomiting! It's fine. We
have plenty of time to figure this out, and if we don't, UA will probably help. What's important is
that we keep training and figure out how Float works for you." He turns to Gran Torino. "You'd
know more about that then me."
The old man rolls his eyes, "You think just 'cause Nana and I were good friends, we knew
everything about each other's Quirks?" The silence that followed was telling. Gran Torino huffs, "I
know a little, but this is something he'll have to work on mostly alone."
They train for weeks after that. It's hard, backbreaking work for Midoriya, but every second feels
amazing. Even when Gran Torino suddenly amps up the speed of his attacks, or All Might
blindsides him with a backhand, his smile never wavers. Every day he gets better, and that itself is
a reward.
What does throw him for a loop, though, is when Gran Torino throws him into a mildly dubious
fighting area in some shady section of Tokyo. Apparently, if Midoriya only fought Gran Torino
and All Might until he got into U.A, he'd end up with bad habits, and apparently his older mentor
wasn't against the morally grey.
He gets his butt kicked, obviously. But he learns a lot about different fighting styles from the two
occasions he got talked into going. All fighting was done Quirkless and with gloves, which is nice
because according to Gran, some places throw two people in a cage and wait until one comes out.
Midoriya keeps weightlifting, too, focusing on building up as much muscle mass as possible. All
Might shows him no mercy on that front, constantly coming up with more and more difficult
exercises. Such exercises include but are not limited to, hanging upside down from a bar, bent at a
ninety degree angle at the waist, one handed push ups while training his grip strength, and walking
around the building with All Might on his back.
That last one is the worst by far, and Gran Torino gets a lot of pictures of Midoriya being crushed
under All Might.
Float never makes another appearance. It bums Midoriya out at first because he can tell that both
of his teachers want him to use it. But it just never heeds his call. No matter how long he bounces
around with Full Cowl (All Might changed the name from Gran Bounce because apparently he
sucks at naming things along with analogies) or meditates with One for All active, or envisions
himself soaring through the air, he just can't Float.
All Might and Gran Torino comb through thousands of records for all of the previous holders of
One for All and even make a notebook for him. They promptly hide it and only let him look over
the information on Float because they don't know if he'll show any other Quirks.
But soon, almost in the blink of an eye, February 26th arrives, and with it, the U.A entrance exam.
[x]
Bonus! Midoriya's Quirk Files.
Subject: Gran Torino
Quirk: Jet
Desc: Allows the user to shoot out jets of air from the soles of the feet. The jet comes from the air
the user breathes.
Strengths: Amazing linear acceleration, speed, turning, and adaptability. Excellent for close
quarters combat and hitting hard fast. Works best with hit-and-run tactics and against disorganized
opponents.
Weaknesses: Limited flight duration. Making curves. Wear on the body (the user is just a normal
man, albeit tough and experienced, but still feels the force of impact on a target).
Counter Strategies: A strong hardening Quirk or a robust shield and a net would be great for
stopping Jet. However, the person taking the force would have to remain upright. If they can do so,
then all they have to do is push the Jet user into a net or capture device. After that, the best way to
secure would be to cover the holes on the feet. Shock absorbing or shock redirecting Quirks would
also be ideal.
Ranking: On its own: B.
Combined with the user's skill: S+
Chapter End Notes

Chapter End Notes
I feel good about this one. It took a couple of tries, but eventually I got it down.
Between school, work, and other activites it can be difficult to get a whole chapter
down in one sitting, so if some transitions feel a bit rough, that probably why.
Anyways, I hope you enjoyed. Cheers!

Entrance Exam
Chapter Notes
I've decided to just upload chapters once they're done instead if doing weeklies.
They're still be at least one a week, but the time between chapters will be shorter.
Probably.
Anyways, here you go!
It's fine. Everything's fine. He's ready for this. He's not worried. He feels great! He's gonna ace the
test and eat a nice, hot dinner when he gets back home. He's not panicking. Nope, not at all.
Except he totally is.
"Mom, where are my new shoes!? I can't find them!" Midoriya yells, frantically towling his half
dry hair and hopping into a pair of track pants. It's six thirty in the morning, and by all accounts, he
should still be asleep. But even though the exam isn't until nine, he's getting ready.
"They're in the hall closet, on the second shelf! Still in the box!" his mom calls back. She's in the
kitchen, happily frying eggs.
Yelling a thanks, Midoriya finally gets his pants on and throws the wet towel into the dirty
laundry. He pulls on a pair of socks (brand new with miniature All Might faces) and slips on a
heavy long sleeve. His jacket is last, and he quickly looks himself over in the mirror.
He looks like a total nervous wreck. His hair's a mess, and there's sweat on his forehead, and, oh
god, his hoodie strings are uneven.
Midoriya rushes to fix this, at the same time looking over his room for his backpack. It's in the
corner, and he just knows he'll forget it if he doesn't put it somewhere else, and—
"Sweetie, come eat!" his mother yells, walking down the hall. "You won't do your best on an
empty stomach!"
Midoriya muttered something akin to agreement but kept hastily adjusting his outfit. Have his
pants always fit that bad? They really shouldn't show off his thigh definition, but he got them three
months ago! Should he change? Yeah, he probably—
"Izuku. Eat. Now!" his mother orders, grabbing him by the arm and dragging him to the kitchen.
Plopping down at the table, Midoriya looks over his breakfast. It's large, but smaller than usual,
probably because he's not doing his morning workout today. Half the plate is filled up with eggs,
and the other with brown rice. There's a small bowl of grapes, along with a tall glass of chocolate
milk.
He picks up his fork and stares. "Thanks," he says quietly. "I'm… I'm not hungry."
His mother looks at him worriedly. "Honey, you need to eat. Even if you don't feel up to it, eat the
eggs, at least. They don't reheat well."
"But—"
"No buts," his mother cuts in, "today's a big day. You need food!"
Midoriya eats slowly. There's probably a million thoughts that run through his head between each
bite, but he manages to set everything down despite the fact that it tastes like nothing.
After breakfast, he slips on his shoes and looks through his backpack five times. Four pens—two
black, one red, one blue. Six pencils, number two. A sharpener. Three erasers. A one subject
notebook, college ruled. Highlighters—one green, one yellow. Emergency cash, which is enough
yen to get him home even if he's fifty miles away. Phone, set to silent. Wallet, with his student ID
and the printable U.A hopeful card. Keys.
That should be everything. He looks again two more times before he's finally standing in the
doorway. He's crying, which is normal. His mom's also crying, which is also normal. It still feels
different, somehow.
"Mom, I..." Midoriya doesn't know what to say.
His mother doesn't either and settles for pulling him into a tight hug. Midoriya's worries melt in an
instant. He feels light as a feather now, but he hasn't stopped crying.
"Do your best, son," his mother sobs into his chest, "I'm already so proud of you!"
Midoriya squeezes her tight, trying to blink away the tears that won't stop. "I will. I promise."
They separate after that, and Midoriya turns to walk down the hall to the elevator. He's probably
late now, but that's fine. He's got this.
"Wait," his mother says suddenly, disappearing into the living room.
Midoriya sighs, a bit annoyed, but mostly eager to go. "Mom, I gotta leave, I'm already—"
His mother reappears, a heap of bright red in her hands. She thrusts it into his arms. "Here," she
says, backing away, "it was your father's."
Midoriya blinks, half tempted to ask another question. "Mom," he starts, but he's quickly
interrupted.
"Go!" his mother shouts, practically slamming the door in his face. "I'll tell you later! Good luck, I
love you!"
The run to the train station was a bit hectic, but he got there just in time to swipe his card and take a
seat. Well, he would have taken a seat if one was open. The amount of people taking the U.A
entrance exam must be in the thousands, because the normally half full train car is packed to the
brim.
Carefully wrapping an arm around a pole, Midoriya looks over the lump of cloth. Unfurling it, he
finds that it’s a scarf. It’s about four feet long and a bright red-orange. It smells of gunpowder and
fire smoke, which, considering his father's Quirk, isn’t surprising.
He'd never met his father. At least, he doesn’t remember meeting his father. It's a little weird
having something to remember a man he'd never even talked to, but it's comforting somehow. Like
the scarf is definitive proof that the man existed.
Wrapping the cloth around his neck and tying a loose knot, Midoriya looks around his train car.
Most of the people in it are kids his age who he’s seen around the neighborhood. There’s even a
pair of students from his homeroom. One spots him and whispers in the other's ear. Midoriya has to
burrow his head into the warmth of his scarf to escape the giggles.
Everyone gets off the train at the same stop. Or at least it seems that way. Fifty middle schoolers
eager to enroll in Japan's top hero school all march in one direction to the school's gate. The crowd
thickens as they get closer, and Midoriya winds up with a couple elbows in his ribs and a stomped
foot.
The line at the gate moves quickly, and Midoriya feeds his pass into a machine, which prints out a
card. Midoriya Izuku, it reads. Quirk: Superpower. Exam: Heroics. ID#: 9999.
There are strict instructions to head right for the test room and even a couple pros hanging around
keeping an eye on the mob of kids. Midoriya doesn’t think anyone would be stupid enough to
break into U.A at any point, but if he had to pick a day to, it'd be exam day. The pros soothe the
worry that comes with that thought, though, so he moves along.
The written portion of the exam is separated by middle school, so Midoriya has to sit and wait in
his seat surrounded by hopefully soon-to-be former classmates. He gets a couple jabs, but a pair of
teachers walk in and start to hand out tests, which stops that.
The exam has three portions: mathematics, writing, and reading. Each is an hour and a half long
with thirty minute breaks in between. Midoriya has been studying for this moment for half a year.
Most of the info online said that the written U.A exam wasn't notoriously difficult but still wasn't
something to brush off.
Midoriya definitely hadn't brushed it off. The first part—mathematics—flies by. It’s only barely
like the practice test he found online, but the fact that he’s allowed a calculator for it eases his
worry somewhat.
The second part, which was reading, also goes well. He'd always been a quick reader, mostly out of
his need to glean information quickly out of different articles and books. There are odd passages
though, and even one in English, but he gets through them alright.
The final portion, writing, is probably the easiest for him. He’s tasked to write an essay on a
theoretical hero. Said hero has a simple yet useful emitter Quirk and specializes in close-quarters
combat. Midoriya, and presumably every other student, has to explain the hero's strengths and
weaknesses, make up super moves, give them a name, and explain their best course of action in a
variety of scenarios.
Midoriya doesn’t turn in his paper early even though he can. He isn’t stupid. An extra half hour is
something that he should spend wisely, so he proofreads four times and tweaks a couple sections.
He also adds a little to his breakdown on the hero's Quirk.
The written test is finished after that. Most people make a beeline right for the free snacks outside
the testing room, but Midoriya decides to head for the auditorium. He isn’t the first one there, but
he’s the only one in his row, which is nice. He texts his mom that he finished the exam and that the
practical is about to start.
Gradually, the massive room fills. Midoriya is surrounded by kids from his middle school, along
with others from schools near his. They all talk among themselves but ignore him, which is fine.
He can focus on keeping his muttering in check that way.
At exactly three o'clock (Midoriya only knows because he was looking at hero stats on his phone),
the lights dim. A hush immediately falls over everyone. A single spotlight shines down on a raised
podium where a man now stands.
"Hey, hey, hey!" the man yells, cupping his hands over his mouth even though he has a
microphone. "How's everyone doin' tonight!"
There is absolute silence. Midoriya tries not to freak out about the fact that Present Mic is standing
right there, holy shit!
"Oh, I see. Playin' it cool. I feel ya. Anyways," Mic pulls a remote out of his back pocket and hits a
button, "you all read those pamphlets, so you should know how this exam works! There's three
types of villain bots, each with different point values."
A screen lights up behind him as he speaks, displaying the silhouettes of four robots.
"One pointers are worth—you guessed it—one point each!" The hero continues, "They're kinda
fast but really weak. Two pointers are next, they pack more of a punch. And then there's three
pointers, which are basically tanks. Any questions!?"
Someone coughs about ten rows down from Midoriya. "Ah, yes, you with the raised hand. Yeah,
you who looked behind yourself!" Present Mic chuckles.
A spotlight lights up the area Mic pointed to, showing a now standing girl. "You only named three
robots, but there's four on screen! What gives?"
Present Mic looks behind himself and rubs his glasses. "Oh yeah, that. The zero pointer's just an
obstacle. It's worth nothing and you should try your best to avoid it. Anyone else?" There was a
moment of silence. "Alright! Let's get this show on the road! Can I get a yeah!?" More silence.
"Yeesh, tough crowd. Go get changed and try to get a little excited! This is UA!"
A short bus ride to the exam ground later, Midoriya stands before a gigantic gate, pressed between
two hundred other kids. Everyone seems to be doing some kind of warm up. Midoriya sees
someone with a rather long and fishlike tail stretching it over his shoulder, and a tall girl splaying
her fingers over and over again.
The sheer number of people and Quirks nearly overwhelm him. It’s like everyone here has a strong
and interesting Quirk and is prepared to use it to the fullest potential.
How can he compare? He had two months with this power, and every person here had at least a
decade. He'd probably make a total fool of himself and end up with nothing. All Might and Gran
would be so disappointed, and he'd have to go to Ketsubetsu, which wasn't bad, but U.A was
famous for making top heroes, and if he wanted to be number one he had—
"Stop muttering. It's distracting," an annoyed sounding voice comes from his left.
"S-sorry, it's just a nervous habit." Midoriya turns around. "Uh, good luck, I guess!"
The person behind him is a tall, shirtless boy who has large pink spikes growing out of his torso.
The boy sneers, "Turn around unless you want me to flatten you when this thing starts."
"Right, yeah, sorry! My bad!" Midoriya whirls around to face the door and suddenly finds himself
counting backwards from one hundred.
"Alllllright, listeners!" the voice of Present Mic screams from up high. Midoriya looks up to see
him sitting in some kind of tower. "Are you ready!?!"
For the first time that day, the hero hopefuls respond with a disjointed 'yeah'.
"Perfect! Here's your countdown! Ten, nine, GO!"
Most of the kids there look up at Present Mic with confusion. Many of them laugh at what they
think is a poor joke. None of them move, except for one.
Midoriya, who'd been training with the world's top hero and his teacher, who'd had it beaten into
him that real fights don't have countdowns, shoots forward in a blur of green lighting. He manages
to wall jump all the way up a pair of five story buildings and slam down onto a three pointer before
Mic calls out that the test is starting for real.
But Midoriya doesn’t hear. By the time the person behind him gets ten feet into the exam ground,
he'd already racked up five more points from ricocheting off a series of one point bots.
He only has ten minutes, and common sense leads Midoriya to believe that there aren’t enough
bots in the zone for even half the people to pass. He has to make every second count.
Leaping off an apartment building, he steals a three pointer from a tall boy, who curses at him.
Midoriya responds by jumping away and punching the head off a two pointer. That makes thirteen.
Midoriya's main strategy is to keep high and pick off groups of bots from above. Falling down on
them makes his attacks that much stronger, and it’s probably safer than running around the streets
like a headless chicken.
He’s proven right when, not five seconds after climbing another building, Midoriya body slams a
two pointer and uses a hunk of its metal as a makeshift throwable to knock out a series of one
pointers. That makes eighteen points.
Midoriya keeps going like that for a while, and he's eternally grateful that Gran Torino made him
think of a strategy instead of letting him go in blind. Midoriya also uses some of his time to help
other students in danger. He pulls two out of the way of falling rubble, and takes out a couple bots
that were surrounding another.
But despite his forty-seven (or isn't it forty-nine? He lost count) points, Midoriya finds himself
losing focus. The feel of Full Cowl coursing through his veins is so liberating. There's moments
where he almost feels like a bird gliding through the bird.
He feels… floaty.
And that's when it hits him again. As Midoriya takes another leap (off a ten story building; his
mother would have a heart attack), he wills himself to stall midair. He floats there, with a massive
grin on his face.
"My trigger! I get it!" He has to feel a certain way to use Float. For the last month, he'd been trying
to meditate, and achieve peace of mind, but that wasn't it. He just needed to feel free.
Midoriya finds himself soaring through the air, yelling in joy, and nearly forgetting about the
exam. It's a little rough—he can't quite turn—but he can accelerate decently and even control
altitude.
But then, it all changes with a rumble and a scream.
[x]
"Huh. Not a very good crop this year. What a shame."
A single tired-looking, dry, black-coloured eye opens to take in the world for the first time in—the
eye swings over to a nearby clock—three hours. With a begrudging sigh, the other eye opens, and
the man attached sits up.
"Ah, Aizawa! How nice of you to join us! Please, have a look!" a cheery voice says from behind a
tea mug.
The man, Aizawa, unzips his puffy yellow sleeping bag and steps out. He stands, accepting a cup
of lukewarm coffee from a colleague. He mutters a thanks and turns to look at the large wall of
screens.
"How do they look," he says, sipping his drink. He very nearly spits it out when he realizes that it's
not coffee, but in fact herbal tea. He shoots a dirty look at the one who handed him it (of course it
was Midnight, no one else on the staff drank anything but black tea or coffee).
"Disappointing!" Principal Nedzu says with all of his usual cheer. "There are a couple interesting
subjects, but most are nothing compared to last year."
Aizawa zeroes in on the biggest screen, which shows a plain-looking green-haired boy. He's got a
smile that's way too cheerful and is soaring through the air without care. It annoys Aizawa, but the
kid's got fifty two points, so there's a little leeway.
"I take it you like the green one," Aizawa says, setting the mug of tea on top of Cementoss'
monitor. The cement hero is judging rescue points for zone A this year, which Aizawa's grateful
for. It means he can squeeze in more sleep.
"You know I'm not allowed to play favorites!" Nedzu says, getting up from his chair and walking
over to the zero pointer button. "But he is the current top scorer! Fifty-two villain points, and, if I
had to guess, twenty rescue points to go with!"
"So he's a shoo-in," Aizawa says, gazing at the other screens. "Any other kids I need to keep an eye
on?"
"Check out examinee 8761," Midnight suggests, pointing to the bottom left corner of the screen.
"She's not too bad, forty-five villain points. No rescues, though."
Examinee number 8771 is an average height, muscular girl. Her Quirk appears to be some form of
emitter that lets her generate spikes of metal from her abdomen. From what Aizawa can see, she
mainly uses them to spear robots, which will need to change if she wants to get by in U.A. Sticking
to one move in combat is peak irrationality.
"I'll take both of them," Aizawa says, slinking back over to his sleeping bag. "Don't wake me up
unless someone's dead."
Midnight gives his bag a soft kick once he's climbed inside. "C'mon, you'll miss the best part. I get
to push the button this year!"
"I'm not grading rescue points this time, and I can get the videos showing my students later. There's
no reason for me to watch." Aizawa sips on a jelly packet and rolls over.
Midnight mutters something about where to shove his logic but turns away and happily pushes the
big red button that's on Nedzu's armrest.
Despite himself, Aizawa cracks an eye open to watch the two top scorers. "Interesting..."
[x]
When Present Mic said that the zero pointers were an obstacle to be avoided, Midoriya didn't think
that he meant that they were the size of skyscrapers.
By the time the gargantuan machine pops into existence, there are only two minutes left in the
exam. Midoriya stops floating in order to focus on snagging a couple more points from the leftover
bots in the far end of the city.
He isn’t the only one with that thought process, though, because the boy from earlier is around,
pulling spikes from his body and hurling them at robots. He isn’t very good, and Midoriya has to
take out a couple robots that were about to shoot him in the back.
But then, the zero pointer shoots up from right under them. It utterly levels a whole block, and
Midoriya has to grab the shirtless boy by the ankles and get him to safety with a six percent jump.
It hurts his legs a bit, particularly the joints, but it’s worth it to save the guy from being crushed by
rubble.
"I could've gotten out of there myself, glory hog," the boy spits, brushing his hands on his pants as
he glared.
"D-don't mention it!" Midoriya squeaks, cringing at his choice of words. The boy makes a nasty
comment about Midoriya's hair before climbing down the fire escape on the side building.
Midoriya is left to watch the zero pointer level half the city on the roof.
Eventually, Present Mic calls out that the exam is over and for all participants to make for the gate.
Midoriya hops off the building.
The walk back is awkward, at least for Midoriya, who has to walk twenty paces behind a guy who
very clearly dislikes him. The spiked boy himself mutters a lot, mostly about how dumb the exam
was and how his Quirk was useless, which Midoriya thinks is stupid. Seeing the Quirk in use for a
couple seconds sent all types of ideas and strategies through his brain.
Eventually, Midoriya reaches a crowd of other test takers. The small army of students is apparently
waiting in line to be healed by Recovery Girl. Midoriya, who has no injuries, walks by. She catches
his eye and even gives him a quick once-over before nodding. Midoriya figures that she’s happy
about the fact that he isn’t hurt, unlike the boy before him, who has a rather nasty cut across his
temple.
He makes his way out of the mock city after that, half giddy from figuring out Float and half
exhausted from using it. Quirks are like muscles, after all, and Midoriya had basically run a
hundred meter dash with a brand new calf he didn't know how to use. But that’s fine! Gran and All
Might will still train him back at the gym, and by the time he’s in U.A, he’ll be golden.
If he gets into U.A, that is.
Oh, god, did he get in? The letter won’t come for a week, and he’s already panicking. What if the
judges docked points because he fooled around with Float at the end? What if he didn't get enough
points? What if he failed the written portion?
It’s all he can think about on the train ride home. And at dinner. And while laying in bed. And in
his dreams.
Midoriya doesn’t tell his mom about it— it being his anxiety, not the exam. She got almost every
detail about both tests and was just so happy that he couldn't force his doubts on her.
Gran Torino, on the other hand…
"Kid, you look like someone ran over your dog," he says bluntly as Midoriya walks into the gym
after school that next Tuesday.
Midoriya flinches. "I think I bombed the exam."
Gran Torino raises a single gray eyebrow. "Explain."
And Midoriya does. He had to start and stop a couple of times, Gran chiding him on his word
vomit, but he gets the picture across eventually. Once he finishes telling his story, the older man
laughs loudly.
"It's not funny!" Midoriya cries, fighting back tears. "I might not get in! All my work might've been
for nothing!"
Gran Torino shakes his head. "Kid, I taught at UA for a year. Trust me when I say that you
absolutely killed it."
"What?" Midoriya knows Gran was All Might's homeroom teacher, god knows his predecessor
was full of horrifying stories of those days. But does the man really know how U.A would pick
students?
"The heroics exam ain't what you're thinking of it," Gran Torino explains, "they look for potential.
Most of the time, yes, that potential shows itself in points. But even if you didn't make a single
scratch on a robot, they'd probably let you in for saving that kid from the zero pointer. They want
kids with heart and brains, not just flashy Quirks."
"So I got in?" Midoriya asks quietly.
Gran Torino shrugs. "I'm an old man, what do I know?" Then, after a second, "If I had to say, yeah
you got in. But don't get your hopes up! That old rat is a weird one. No telling what he'll do. Now
hurry up and stretch! Toshinori's coming by later, and I want you to actually carry the big oaf this
time! None of that falling over halfway through crap!"
The week goes by like normal. Midoriya gets some jeers about the exam, which he expected. No
one at school knows he has a Quirk. But for the most part, the days fly by, and soon, the letter
arrives.
Chapter End Notes
I feel like this one is hit or miss. I like some parts and dislike others. Editing was easy,
baring one change I made halfway through. If you cought a wrong pronoun during the
exam, let me know.
I hope you enjoyed. Cheers!

First Day
Chapter Notes
"So you're telling me that most of these kids have no potential," Aizawa says, flicking through a
stack of folders that contain the profiles of every heroics applicant that managed to pass the exam.
Most aren't all that impressive, but that's nothing new. Judging worth based on smashing robots is
something he'd thought was dumb from day one.
Across from him, Principal Nedzu nods. "Yes, unfortunately the batch of children was rather weak
this year. And they're even more disappointing if you compare them to the ones we got in the two
years previous…"
"How can we be sure of that?" Cementoss speaks up from the far end of the long table. "Ten
minutes is hardly enough to gauge the strength and talent of thousands of kids. Perhaps they didn't
have the right Quirks for the practical." That's a good argument, but...
"You judged rescue points this year," Snipe says, idly tipping back in his seat so only the rear legs
of his chair touch the ground. "You ought know whether or not Nedzu's right."
"I graded one tenth of the applicants. That's hardly a broad enough sample, especially among
thousands of children," Cementoss counters.
"It's not just rescue or villain points we're talking about here," Midnight says, "most of the test
takers couldn't give a half decent analysis on the written exam. Not to mention the rather crude
ways most of the top sixty used their Quirks, which were mostly simple emitters and
transformatives suitable for taking out robots, I might add."
A wave of murmurs breaks out among the teachers. Each and every one of them was either a judge
for rescue points, a zone manager, or both. They're who decide what prospects get picked and are
probably the most important part of the U.A staff.
And at this moment, they're unsure.
"We can't just not have a heroics course," Present Mic speaks up, casually flicking through a lesson
planner. Most of the staff look at him incredulously. "What?" he defends, "both Eraser and Nedzu
say most of those kids don't have potential, and we all know what that means. But we can't refuse
to teach some of 'em just because they can't be great. The world needs average heroes, too. Not
everyone can be All Might."
"Excellent point, Yamada," Nedzu says, swirling his tea cup around. "But we are UA. Our motto is
Plus Ultra, no? We take those with potential to be great and make them so. No less."
"We could shrink the hero course," Aizawa suggests, carefully scrutinizing the profiles of the top
two placers. "You said most don't have potential. Give me the ones that do have some, and I'll put
them through the usual and then some."
"Can we really do that?" Thirteen asks, tapping their fingers together. "Just… change the outcome
of the exam after it's over?" Most of the teachers present seem to agree with her sentiment. Aizawa
does not.
"It's been done before," Nedzu says. "I know that in the early days of our school, the staff would
annually vote on the number and size of the heroics classes. They discontinued it after they
realized the average was two classes of twenty, but we could bring it back for a couple years if
needed."
"You'll give Eraser the cream of the crop and leave me with nothing," Vlad King complains,
thumbing through his own stack of student profiles.
Aizawa lets the corners of his lips twitch up just a little. "There's always next year. And besides, I
might end up expelling them all." Then, "It's not like there's much to look at here, if I'm honest.
You all saw the videos, you know how little 'cream of the crop' there is this year." There's a small
mutter of agreement, but most of the teachers still present seem unsure.
"Let's have a vote," Nedzu decides. "Our two options are having two classes of twenty like usual,
splitting the top scorers in each class, and molding our rather meager crop as best we can. Or, we
have only one class and handpick the best students for Aizawa to teach."
They vote. The result is 8-7 in favor of Aizawa's idea. The man himself takes a long look over the
four recommendation students (contracts stipulate that there had to be four no matter what), but
there's nothing too interesting there. The top two who took the regular exam, though… well, he
certainly hoped they wouldn't disappoint.
[x]
"Izuku, Izuku! Ohmygosh, it's here! Honey, come quick! The letter! It's for you!"
The sound of his mother frantically jogging through the apartment shakes Midoriya from his trace.
Quickly closing his hero notebook (volume 14), he gets up from his desk and leaves his room,
nearly knocking his mother over. A rather heavy envelope is thrust into his hands.
"Open it!" his mother cries.
Midoriya blinks, almost not believing that the expensive-feeling paper with gold lettering is real.
"Can I… open it in my room?" he asks, mostly because he wants to be composed for when his
mother finds out. He knows she'll cry no matter what.
"Sure, honey. But please make it quick! My heart can't take all this waiting."
Sitting back down at his desk with his mother pacing on the other side of the (locked) door,
Midoriya sits down at his desk. He stares at the envelope and pokes it with one finger. Biting his
lip, he carefully pulls away at the seal. He gets the envelope open but sits back in his chair.
He can't do this. The weight of everything is just too much. The letter will determine his future,
and he can't bring himself to open it.
Every poster of All Might in his room seems to stare down at him anxiously. A bead of sweat flows
down his neck and onto his collar.
He has to do this. Staring determinedly at the letter, Midoriya reaches in and pulls out a heavy,
metal disk. It lights up in a hologram, and Midoriya drops it in shock.
A tall (is he tall? The hologram can't be more than six inches, but Midoriya feels like they're tall)
scruffy looking man is displayed on the screen. He's wearing all black, and his face is covered by
his long hair and a five o'clock shadow.
"Hello. I am Aizawa Shota, heroics teacher at UA High." The man holds up a remote and clicks it.
The screen darkens and expands. A large stylized spelling of his name now takes up most of the
screen. "Midoriya Izuku, you took the heroics exam and placed in the top five percent in the
written portion." A little '95th percentile' blinks under Midoriya's name.
"However, academics isn't all we look for." Midoriya swallows nervously as the man reappears on
screen. This is it. "The practical is much more important in the long run. But, lucky for you, you
aced that too." The screen changes again, displaying a colorful list of ten names. His in the top left
corner, bright gold with a bold one next to it. There's three rows of numbers next to his name,
reading 60 villains, 25 rescue, 85 total.
"Congratulations. This is your Hero Academia." The screen blinks out and collapses back into the
disk.
Midoriya can hardly breathe. He reaches for the disc, hoping to play the recordings again, but his
hands shake so bad he drops it.
He sits there for a while, trying to process. It's a lot. Too much, really. U.A. His dream school.
Accepted him. And he's number one. He pinches himself hard a couple times, just to be sure he
isn't dreaming.
He's not dreaming.
His eyes start to water, but he wipes away the tears before they fall. He did it. He did it. He's not
useless. He's not foolish. He passed, top of the rankings. He's gonna be a hero.
But next, he has to tell his mom.
Getting up onto his shaky legs, Midoriya walks across his bedroom and gently opens the door.
Immediately, his mom rushes forward and wraps him up in a hug. She's crying hard.
"I was listening through the door," she sobs, "Izuku, I'm so proud of you!"
Midoriya can't help it. He cries too.
[x]
"ALL—er—MR. YAGI!" Toshinori hears a voice yell. He turns around and smiles as he sees his
successor jog towards him. "I got in! I got in!"
The boy slides to a stop, sending particles of white sand everywhere. He's smiling like usual, wide
and bright. It's a different one than the one he has for combat and weight training. Toshinori can't
decide which he likes better.
"Congratulations! Though I can't say I'm surprised. We did work you hard this past year."
Toshinori pats the boy on the shoulder.
Young Midoriya laughs and rubs his neck self-consciously, "Yeah, I uh, I placed first, too. With a
total of eighty-five points."
Toshinori raises an eyebrow. "That's only ten shy of my entrance exam score. Though I'm sure you
did better on the practical than I did, so it balances out."
"You got ninety-five points!" Midoriya's jaw drops. "Did you beat the zero pointer, too?"
Toshinori laughs, "I tried, but I couldn't quite take it down in the allotted time. I did get a lashing
from the support department head for denting his creation, though, so you probably dodged a bullet
by not attacking it." Toshinori blinks. "Wait, you didn't attack it, right? Please tell me you didn't
break your limbs smashing that thing, I don't need another lecture from Recovery Girl next time I
go for my monthly checkup!"
Young Midoriya chuckles. "No, I didn't try to. I did pull another guy out of the way of it, though!
He wasn't very happy about it…"
Toshinori shrugs, "Some people don't like getting help. But that doesn't change the fact that they
need it."
There's a comfortable silence after that. The two stare out to sea, enjoying the cool air and the
sound of the waves.
"I can't believe I'm actually going to be a hero," Midoriya says after a while.
Toshinori looks at him oddly. "Still? I'd've thought you would have accepted that a year ago." God,
it's already been a year since that fateful day. Toshinori can still remember how Midoriya looked
as he slung his backpack at the villain.
"Yeah, I know, it's just…" The kid looks down at his feet. "I was Quirkless for so long, I think I
just got used to how people assumed I'd never amount to anything. But now that I got into UA, I
can start to prove them wrong."
"I'd say you already have," Toshinori says, gesturing to the beach and the sea beyond. Young
Midoriya looks a bit confused at his words so he continues, "You already are a hero."
"No I'm not!" Midoriya denies, "I don't have a license! Sure, I have a Quirk now, but that doesn't
mean anything! I need education, and experience, and—" He's cut off by a newspaper clipping
being shoved into his face.
"Anonymous youth cleans Dagobah trash heap," the boy reads aloud. "Spotless sands and clear
waves make the former dumping ground a new summer hotspot." He looks up to Toshinori,
confused. "How does this make me a hero? I did it so I could hold your power. Cleaning the trash
was just a plus."
Toshinori sighs, "Do you remember what I told you that first day on this beach? When it was
covered in trash?"
"That if I used your full power, my limbs would fly off?"
"Technically correct, but no. I said that being a hero is about service. This beach was dirty, but you
reverted it back to its former glory, bringing joy to thousands. You helped those in need and
expected nothing in return," Toshinori says, "and last year, the day I met you, you proved yourself
as well. By risking your life to save another, you embodied the traits of a hero.
"Servitude. Self-sacrifice. They are what make a hero a hero. You, my boy, have already shown
both. Here on this beach, and the day we met."
The boy sniffs, and Toshinori thinks for a moment that he's going to cry. But then he wipes his face
and stares him directly in the eye. His mouth is curled into his fierce smile, and his eyes burn with
passion. "I promise to be a hero worthy of your power," he says, his words wavering. "I'll be the
successor you and the world need!"
Toshinori can't help but beam. The kid will go far, he'll make sure of it.
[x]
"I am here! I am here! I am here! I am—" A fist smacks down on the head of an All Might-themed
alarm clock, silencing it. Midoriya stares wide-eyed at the ceiling. He's been up for two hours and
got five hours of sleep the previous night.
He lays there under his covers for all of ten seconds. Then he shoots out of bed and hurriedly gets
dressed. After tearing off his pajamas, he throws on a pair of socks and an undershirt. Then he slips
into the gray slacks and tucks the white button-down in.
He grabs his blazer, belt, and backpack as he hurries to the kitchen. His mom is there already,
happily sipping on a mug of hot tea while Midoriya's usual breakfast is there.
"Morning, sweetie! Big day today," she says, standing. "You forgot your tie, but that's alright. I'll
run and grab it while you eat."
Midoriya mumbles out a thanks as he slips his blazer on and sits down at the table. Shoveling food
into his mouth as his mother came back into the kitchen with a red tie, part of his mind reminded
Midoriya that classes started at 7:30 and that it was only 6:00. He ignored that and kept rapidly
shoving rice in his mouth.
"You know, if you keep eating like that, you'll get the hiccups," his mother chides.
"No I—" Midoriya hiccups, "won't." He turns bright red and quickly drinks a glass of water.
And that's how his first morning of being an official hero in training went, earning the glares of
fellow train passengers as he awkwardly hiccups the whole ride to school.
It could be worse, he reflects as he walks through the gateway of U.A. The train could have broken
down, or he could have overslept, or the U.A faculty could decide that he's not good enough and
expel him on the first day. Boy, would that suck. All Might and Gran's looks of disappointment
would haunt him for years.
Midoriya decides to stop thinking about that halfway to his classroom. Instead he focuses on
getting there on time. It isn't like he needs to—after all, he’s a full twenty minutes early and has
directions from the front desk—but he needs something to think about.
After less than a minute of walking (the rooms for the hero classes were closer to the entrance,
probably because U.A was a hero school), Midoriya reaches it: Class 1-A. Taking a deep breath, he
pushes on the (absolutely massive) door. Stepping in, he’s greeted with a familiar, yet odd, sight.
There’s a group of five girls in the back, talking and laughing despite the fact that they (probably)
just met. Similarly, a quartet of boys, all taller than Midoriya, converse loudly, while another pair,
who look like twins, play hacky sack (?) in the middle of the room. A couple people are sitting at
their desks, but they’re all talking, too. One boy with an obvious lizard mutation flirts with a red-
faced girl.
It’s just like middle school.

And wow, that’s weird. Midoriya thought that the kids who got into U.A would be better
disciplined, but then he remembers. They all probably have strong Quirks, and were allowed to be
rowdy—he'd seen examples of that everyday for the past ten years. Why would high school not be
the same for them?
Midoriya sits down at his desk in the second row. He's student number nine, so he's pretty close to
the door, which is good, though it'll suck being so far from the window. He gets out all his pens
and pencils. It's the first day, so homeroom should just be a syllabus and maybe some
introductions. Actual hero classes are in the afternoon, but even those shouldn't be too intense.
The minutes go by, and more students trickle in. The one to his left is a dark-skinned girl with an
ear piercing and short black hair in an undercut. She gives Midoriya a once-over then busies
herself with organizing a notebook.
At least someone else is trying to be a good student.
By the time there's two minutes before the first bell, everyone is in their seat. They're still talking,
though, which can't be helped. Everyone in the room is a classmate, and they should get to know
each other a little.
No one talks to Midoriya, though, but that's fine. It means more time for him to double and triple-
check his utensils.
Then, he hears it. A soft—barely audible over the hum of talking teenagers—thump. Midoriya's
eyes hover over to the doorway. There, lying on the ground just outside the classroom, is a massive
caterpillar. Said caterpillar has a human face. Said human face looks ridiculously sleep deprived
and mildly annoyed.
The girl to his left must've noticed the creature (Midoriya wants to think it's human, but the world's
so weird that he wouldn't be surprised if it wasn't) because she lets out a soft, "What the fuck?"
Finally, the bell rings. The ongoing conversations in the room dim a bit. Most start talking about
their lack of a teacher. Midoriya and the girl to his right both watch with identical confused
expressions as the caterpillar unzips from a yellow sleeping bag (?) and stands up. The man
(because it's definitely a man, now, and no longer a bug) leans against the door frame, looking
terribly disappointed and tired.
It's the man who made his acceptance video, Midoriya realizes. He somehow looks a bit more
scruffy than before, with bigger eyebags and greasier hair. He looks like hasn't shaved all week,
too.
Eventually, the rest of the class notices the man in the door. They all quiet down as he looks them
over seriously. Finally, "It took you all over two minutes to quiet down, and that's completely
illogical," he says. "This is the U.A hero course. We don't tolerate time-wasters."
He lets everyone think on that for a second, then, "I'm Aizawa Shota, as some of you may
recognize. I am to be your homeroom teacher." He reaches behind himself and into his sleeping
bag and pulls out a world famous U.A gym uniform. "Put these on and meet me outside in the
nearest courtyard." Then he pulls a pouch of something from his pocket and disappears into the
hallway with a loud slurping noise. The whole class erupts into pandemonium.
It takes a while for everyone to calm down and get changed, but eventually they all make it out
onto the field. Mr. Aizawa is already there, casually standing in the sun as he wears all black.
Everyone stands in front of him, and he waits for everyone to stop talking before he speaks.
"Midoriya, you placed first in the regular entrance exam," Mr. Aizawa says. Midoriya shrinks as
nineteen pairs of eyes settle on him. "How strong was your grip strength in middle school?"
Midoriya blinks, looking up in confusion. "Fifty kilograms, I think."
Aizawa nods and tosses Midoriya a heavy, rectangular device. Midoriya recognizes it as a machine
to measure grip strength. It's more high tech than the one his middle school had, but that was to be
expected.
"Take another try at it, but use your Quirk this time," his teacher says.
Midoriya looks up at him, then back down to the machine. He takes a deep breath and tries to
ignore everyone's stares. He grabs hold of the handhold and activates One for All. Technically
speaking, grip strength comes from the arm muscles, so Midoriya only has to channel the power
into his arm, but he decides to activate Full Cowl anyway. Better safe than sorry.
After a couple seconds of squeezing as hard as he could, the machine vibrated. "Eight-hundred-
twenty point five kilograms," it says in a robotic voice. Impressed whispers break out across the
crowd, making Midoriya flush.
"That's how these tests should be done." Everyone turns their attention back to Mr. Aizawa. "The
Department of Education and the Civilian Quirk Use Committee just don't get it. A person's
potential can't be determined without their Quirk. That's why you'll be taking all the regular middle
school tests—grip strength, side-to-side jumps, pitch, fifty meter dash, distance running, sit ups,
push ups, and long jump—using your Quirks however you like."
There's a beat of silence. Then, "Aw, hell yeah!" "This is great!" "I finally get to cut loose with my
Quirk again!" "Dude, this is gonna be fun!" "Awesome!"
"'Awesome?' 'Fun?'" Mr. Aizawa quotes. His tone has changed from casual apathy to anger. "You
think this is a joke? That using your Quirks in my class is anything other than a serious test of your
skill?" The utter silence from the crowd of children is telling. "How about this for fun," Aizawa
continues, "the person with the lowest rank out of all of you gets expelled."
"But that's not fair!" Midoriya can't keep himself from crying out.
Mr. Aizawa snorts, "And villains and natural disasters are? The world of heroes may seem like
nothing but flashy super moves and interviews, but it's deadly, and above all, unfair. If you can't
overcome that unfairness, then you've got no right to call yourself a hero."
The tests start in earnest after that. Some people halfway regain their enthusiasm, mostly the people
who have good, physical Quirks, but most seem single-minded in not being last. Midoriya was
among the anxious majority.
Grip strength is the first test everyone does, and he gets first in that. The boy with the lizard
mutation got close to his score, though he used both hands. After grip strength is side-to-side
jumps. Midoriya gets third, just behind the dark-skinned girl he sat next to, and a boy whose Quirk
must be some form of linear acceleration.
The dark-skinned girl must've placed pretty high on the exam, Midoriya figures. She has a good,
versatile Quirk that lets her grow steel-like hunks of metal from her abdomen. She mostly uses
them for mobility in the tests, getting respectable scores in all of the exercises.
A Quirk like that would be good for heroics. Simple Quirks like that usually are. They allow the
user to do all sorts of creative things due to the basic nature. It’s also pretty flashy, which would
lend itself to decent popularity. On top of that—
"You're staring at me," the girl says, looking Midoriya dead in the eye. The jacket of her gym
uniform is undone so she can use her Quirk without damaging it. It also makes Midoriya flush.
He looks away. "S-sorry, it's just… you have a really great Quirk. I uh, I really like Quirks, and—"
"Whatever. Just stop looking at me like I'm some kind of test subject."
"But aren't we all test subjects right now?" Midoriya immediately regrets asking the question.
She narrows her eyes. "Alright, smartass, you—"
"Midoriya. Noburo. Stop talking and line up for sit ups," Mr. Aizawa interrupted. "We don't have
all day."
Midoriya stops staring at the girl (Noburo, he reminded himself) after that.
By the time there are only five minutes left of the period, the tests are over. Midoriya places first in
everything except side-to-side jumps, the pitch, and distance running. Though, if he was being
honest, he doesn’t really deserve first place in the fifty meter dash. The boy with the linear
acceleration Quirk should have beaten him by a mile, but he got distracted by something and
tripped. Midoriya, who was floating through the air, passed him and stole the top spot.
Everyone is lined up in front of Mr. Aizawa now, and the man himself is lazily looking at his
phone. Then, he holds it out and taps it once, causing a hologram to appear. The hologram shows a
list of names and numbers.
"These are the placements for the Quirk Apprehension Test. Some of you did good, some of you
did awful, but only one is going home today."
Midoriya quickly picks out his name, which is the very first one. He lets out a sigh of relief, much
to the ire of his nearby classmates. Then, he hears someone behind him start to cry. He can't help
but turn around and look. It’s one of the tall boys from before, who could turn his arms into fire.
Considering he can’t use them for propulsion, and that fire didn't really have a lot of mass, it makes
sense that he’s last.
"Oto, head to the principal's office immediately," Aizawa orders. The crying boy quickly ran off
the field, and a heavy weight was soon felt in the air. "Tai, Yuyu, Katsu, Lee, Wan." Five other
students looked up to the teacher with fear. "You five are out of the hero course. See the student
counselor about transferring to Gen Ed immediately."
"You can't do that! We all placed in the top twelve!" one girl yells. The other four also chime in,
voicing their anger.
"I'm a hero course teacher at UA, where freedom of expression is valued above all else. I can do
what I want," Mr. Aizawa says, slipping the phone into one of his pockets.
"But we passed the test! And the entrance exam!" another boy cries, wiping a tear from his face.
"Yes, yes, congrats. You beat up enough robots with your destructive, flashy Quirks. But I can tell
at a glance none of you have the maturity for this class," Aizawa crosses his arms. "Laughing,
making fun of those who do worse than you, half-assing the test just because you can. You're not
fit to be heroes, but you'll get another chance at the Sports Festival. Now get out."
They walked off of the training field, leaving the remaining fourteen students to stare wide-eyed at
their teacher. "For the rest of you, this isn't over. You passed the first test, but as far as I'm
concerned, every day in this class is going to be the same. If you don't try your hardest every single
day, I will not hesitate to kick you out of my class."
Midoriya gulps at his teacher's words, shrinking down, but that only gathers the man's attention.
"Midoriya, you're on thin ice," he says.
"But he got first!" a random classmate defends. "That means he's better than all of us, right?"
"Oh, he performed better than all of you today, that's true," Mr. Aizawa stared at Midoriya, "But he
didn't utilize his full potential. Why didn't you fly for the pitch? Or distance running? You could
have easily done better if you did."
"I can't control my flying yet!" Midoriya cries. "I can barely control the speed and direction, much
less stay in a two meter circle!"
That was true. He'd worked on Float for days following the entrance exam. All Might slapped a
helmet on his head and had him train for hours while he and Gran helped. 'Helped' probably wasn't
even the right term, because neither of them could fly. Sure, Gran had forgotten more about aerial
combat than most would ever learn, and All Might glided regularly, but they couldn't fly.
Midoriya's Float training boiled down to him running into walls while his two mentors shouted out
tips from Flying For Dummies.
"Fine," Mr. Aizawa says, turning around and walking back towards the building. "But you're still
on thin ice. All of you, get changed and pick up a syllabus. Make sure you aren't late for math."
And that's how Midoriya's first homeroom at U.A went. Somehow, he feels it still could've been
worse. At least no one thinks he’s useless.
Chapter End Notes
This one was really fun to write. The rush one feels on the first day of school is like
nothing else, and when added to Eraserhead's shenanigans, makes for a great time.
For me, not the five who got booted.
Oh well, the summery says that Midoriya's the only one in his class, so it has to
happen.
Also, can we talk about other fics like this that have a 1-B too? Like, I love them all
and have taken lots of inspiration from them, but having one class with one kid and
another with twenty makes no sense. Why wouldn't they merge them? Or give half of
1-B to Eraser? I dunno, they're not my stories.
Anyways, I hope you enjoyed. Cheers!

Battle Training
Chapter Notes
As of March 28, 2021 this chapter has been edited and reformatted by my beta, flauel.
"... and then we got normal classes for the rest of the day like nothing happened! We even have our
first hero practical exercise tomorrow, costumes and all! Was this what UA was like for you?"
Toshinori carefully sets down his stack of papers. He'd been busy for the past couple of days and
was taking time to catch up on paperwork while checking in on Midoriya.
"No, absolutely not," Toshinori says, circling a rather important line in a confrontation manuscript
in a bold red. A villain he'd taken down recently had said something that seemed to pertain to an
ongoing case, and just because he isn't on it doesnt mean he can't help. "But considering your
homeroom teacher is Aizawa, it's to be expected."
"You've worked with him before?" Midoriya asks, pausing his back squat. "Is he any good? Er, I
mean, he teaches at UA, so he has to be! But, what's he like?"
Toshinori thinks for a moment. "Focused," he decides. "I haven't worked with him directly, but I've
read reports of his work, and since you, my successor, are enrolled in UA, Nedzu allowed me to
read up on him. In all the documents I read, Aizawa was described as the type to do a job to the
best of his ability as quickly and efficiently as possible. He's a little rough around the edges, but
since he doesn't have an agency or a public persona, that's excusable." He flicks over a leaf of
paper before setting it in another pile. "Switch to deadlifts, will you?"
"Sure," Midoriya says, carefully setting the bar on the rest and then on the ground. "So he's
underground then?"
Toshinori nods. "Yes, he considers himself to be an underground hero. More a licensed vigilante
than a public figure who responds to ongoing crime and disasters, in my opinion. Why do you
ask?"
"Well," the boy says, loading up his normal weight for deadlifts, "all the teachers at UA are heroes.
Heroes that I know, too. Except Mr. Aizawa." He carefully rolls the bar back and forth before
lifting it up to his waist. "I've been trying to piece it together all day, but I haven't figured it out."
He slowly lowers the bar back down so there's an inch between it and the floor. "But you know
who he is, so..."
Toshinori considers for a moment. "I think I'll let you figure this one out on your own."
Despite his surprise, Midoriya doesn't falter. "How come?"
Toshinori sets down his pen. "Think of it this way. If I had all of the great power One for All
grants me but had the mental capacity of a seven year old, would I be an effective hero?"
"Definitely not, though I can think of a situation or two…"

"I wouldn't, let's just keep it that way for simplicity," Toshinori waves his successor off. "My point
is that your brain is just as important, if not more so, than your Quirk. It's vital that you exercise it
like you would any other muscle."
"So you want me to figure out what Mr Aizawa's hero name is?" Midoriya puts the bar down, done
with his set of deadlifts.
"Yes," Toshinori stands, "but your only resources are ones available to the public. No going
through old UA documents that you're not allowed to, or using an old yearbook you bought online
—"
"UA graduates sell their yearbooks online?" Midoriya interrupts, confusion evident in his
expression.
"Yes, actually. It's mostly because the hero graduates. The three with me in them fetch a pretty
high price. Anyways, only a basic search engine, whatever UA releases to the public, and you're
not allowed to spend any money." Toshinori grows to his Muscle form. "Now, you said Aizawa
was disappointed by your use of Float. I cannot stand for that. Slap your helmet on, Young
Midoriya, we're doing intensive training!"
[x]
Homeroom the second day of school is much easier and less heart attack inducing. Mr. Aizawa had
them all read various opinion pieces on a variety of heroes, and then made them write a 500 word
essay on how public opinion affects field performance. He doesn't even threaten expulsion once,
which Midoriya finds to be much more scary than how he acted yesterday.
Their teacher mostly lies down in his sleeping bag, but Midoriya gets the impression that he's only
half asleep at most. Aizawa's an underground hero, too, so it makes sense that he wants to rest so
often. The man probably operates at night on top of regular hero duties.
Aizawa raises an eyebrow when Midoriya turns in his essay, which is way over the five hundred
word minimum, but other than that he seems content to act like yesterday was a perfectly normal
day. Maybe it was. Midoriya wouldn't know, because there’s no info online about Mr. Aizawa,
excluding the bare-bones profile U.A has of him on their website which hardly counts.
After homeroom, they have a slew of regular highschool classes, though they’re sort of tailored to
heroics in a vague fashion. For example, English focuses on learning phrases and verbs useful for
working with international heroes, as English is used for most international team ups, for whatever
reason. Math and art history are also linked to heroics, focusing on physics formulas and old
paintings or images of heroes respectively.
And now, Midoriya has lunch. He'd already gotten in line and ordered what All Might's meal plan
had laid out, but struggled to find a table. He'd always eaten alone back in middle school. Should
he keep doing that here? Can he sit with the older years, or are freshmen supposed to stick
together? Would he be welcome at the tables his classmates sit at? He placed first on the Quirk
Apprehension Test; that has to count for something, right?
Eventually, he chooses to sit at a half empty table, giving a polite nod to a group of older students
who don't even look up from their stacks of… blueprints? Midoriya figured that they were support
students.
Calmly taking a bite of his beef as he digs through his bag for his notebook, Midoriya’s startled by
a tray of soba slamming down right in front of him. The noodles bounce around, one falling out of
the dish.
Letting out a squeak, he looks up. It’s Noburo. "... Can I help you?" Midoriya asks.
The girl examines his face for a moment, her own expression schooled in deep concentration. She
sits down across from him and pokes at her soba. "You're weird,” she says after a second, slurping
up some noodles in a way that Midoriya's mother would have scolded him for.
Midoriya blinks. "Thanks..? I think?" he says, cautiously setting his notebook on the table.
Noburo snorts. "It's not a compliment. You just don't make sense."
"Wh… what do you mean?" Midoriya watches as she continues to eat, like this is a normal,
everyday conversation.
"You're top of the class," she says, taking a swig of some brightly colored drink, "first in the
entrance exam, first on the Quirk test. But you're such a wet noodle."
Midoriya can't help but stare for a moment. Noburo doesn't seem to mind, and continues to eat. "...
A wet noodle," he says after a while.
"Yes," she nods. "I heard some idiot brag to me about getting forty points in the exam, but how
many points did you get?"
"Sixty villain, twenty-five rescue. Eighty-five total," Midoriya lists.
"Yeah, see? You thrashed everyone in our class, but you barely talk. Or brag. Or gloat. You can't
even walk through the damn hallway without staring at your feet!" She points her chopsticks at
him rudely. "I don't like it."
"What," Midoriya says dumbly.
Noburo sighs heavily. "The top of my class has the temperament of a green bean, don't you see how
bad that is?"
"... No?" What does having the temperament of a green bean even mean? Is it an insult? He'd been
insulted a lot in middle school. Was it normal for kids to bully the top of the class here? Was he
being bullied? Or something else?
"You're thinking too hard, I can see it," Noburo interrupts. "Stop it. Just don't act like a doormat in
hero class, and we'll be fine. I can be happy with number one not being an ass, but if you're one of
those idiots who thinks anyone can be great, and everything's sunshine and rainbows, we're gonna
have a problem. "
"But if they work hard enough, then anyone can be amazing!" Midoriya defends. Noburo rolls her
eyes.
"Yeah, sure, like some punk with extendable eyeballs could ever be half the hero I'll be,” she says
cockily. Then, "I can already tell that we're gonna have problem, so—"
"What do you mean 'problem'?" Midoriya interrupts. "You keep acting like there's something
wrong with me. Is there?"
Noburo stares at him for a moment. "Yes. You see, you're at the top. I'm just below you. If you
walk around acting like a wet noodle, then everyone in the school will think our whole class is full
of pushovers, especially me because I'll be playing second fiddle to someone… someone like," she
gestures to the entirety of Midoriya, "this."
"You just gestured to all of me…" Midoriya mutters.
"Yes. That's the point." Noburo rests her head in the palm of her hand. "Just… don't be like," she
points at Midoriya, "that in the middle of combat, and we'll be fine."
And that's that. Noburo quickly finishes her lunch and leaves for class without a word, and
Midoriya finishes his food while filling out another page in his hero notebook. All in all, it was
definitely better than some of the lunches he had back at Aldera. He had a conversation, filled out a
page, and managed to eat the whole thing.
But now he has hero class. Midoriya's stomach flips as he walks back to class 1-A. Mr. Aizawa
said he was on thin ice. And just yesterday, he kicked six people out of class. All Might said he'd
be fine as long as he shows how much of a hard worker he is, but will that really be enough? He
hopes so.
Any and every expectation Midoriya had for class is promptly ejected out the nearest window the
moment he steps in the room. There, nervously fidgeting in his seat with a wrinkly U.A uniform, is
the boy Mr. Aizawa expelled the previous day.
Midoriya wipes his eyes to make sure they're working and pinches the back of his hand. Nope, he's
not dreaming. Which means—
"Are you going to stare all day like a fool or sit down?" The telltale sign (yes, it's only day two, but
who else in the whole of U.A walks around with a sleeping bag?) of a long, rusty zipper draws
Midoriya's attention to the floor just below the teacher's podium. Mr. Aizawa stands, and it's only
then does Midoriya realize that he's been standing and gaping like a fish. He flushes and quickly
sits down in his spot.
The remaining students fill in quickly after that, some making comments about how amazing lunch
tasted, and others still mid-joke. They all freeze when they see Oto. No one gets long to stare as
Mr. Aizawa snaps them out of it and makes them sit down.
Once all fifteen pairs of eyes are facing firmly straight ahead, Mr. Aizawa pulls out a thin stack of
papers. "Today is your first practical hero exercise. As your homeroom teacher, I will be present.
However, I will not be your main educator. I expect you to take this class very seriously, and that
you treat the other teacher and the training facility with respect. Am I understood?"
A chorus of 'yes, sir' rings through the classroom. Aizawa nods, satisfied but still wary. "Follow
me. You won't need your things," he says, tucking his sleeping bag under one arm and grabbing an
overfilled clipboard with the other.
Their teacher leads them through the massive corridors of U.A, turning every now and then until
they reach a classroom marked Foundational Heroics. He herds them all in before zipping up his
bag and lying down on the floor.
Most of the students take their seats and begin to talk amongst themselves. Midoriya doesn't,
instead fiddling with the cuffs of his sleeves and scanning the room. Eventually, the bell rings and
heavy footsteps can be heard briskly walking down the hall. Midoriya has just enough time to sit
up straight as the door to the classroom is kicked open.
In walks a rather tall and muscular man wearing a red hero costume with thick, white gloves, boots,
and a yellow-orange visor on the upper part of his head. His grey hair is spiky, and he has a
peculiar jawline, with two teeth sticking up from his bottom lip like fangs. He stands at the front of
the room and looks them over.
"Hello, I am Kan Sekijiro, also known as the pro hero Vlad King," he says with a slight lisp. "I'll
be your Foundational Heroics teacher." Then he looks down to Aizawa, who appears to be asleep.
"There's fewer than twenty, Aizawa. Care to explain?"
The homeroom teacher cracks open one eye. "They weren't ready for this class, so I booted them to
Gen Ed. They'll have a chance at the festival," Aizawa says, not even bothering to sit up.
Vlad King huffs and flicks through the clipboard Aizawa had left on the teacher's podium. "I'll just
have to work with five less than planned, I suppose." He looks up at the class. "Everyone here?"
No one replies. Vlad shrugs, "Good enough for me. Now," a quiet click can be heard, and soon the
sound of hissing fills the room. The students look around, confused.
Midoriya is one of the first to notice that parts of the walls are swinging outwards, miniature doors
opening like lockers to reveal cubbies. "These are your hero costumes," Vlad explains. "The cases
are numbered the same as your student numbers are." Suitcases are sitting in the cubbies. One of
which has Midoriya's hero costume in it. Already, his mind is going a mile a minute.
"There's a set of locker rooms across the hall," Vlad King continues, "boys in the right, girls on the
left. Hurry up and put your stuff on and meet me by the door at the end of the hall."
Midoriya and seven other boys enter the locker room, nearly at a run. Oto, the boy Aizawa
expelled, is quickly surrounded by everyone but Midoriya, and questioned thoroughly.
Tuning the noise of the other boys out, Midoriya focuses on opening his suitcase. It's rather high
tech, which is both odd and expected at this point. It's U.A, after all. The top swings up smoothly
and without a sound, unveiling a dark green piece of cloth and a leaf of paper taped to it. He pulls
the paper off and tries to read the script. It's hard—whoever wrote it must've been in a hurry—but
he gets it eventually.
Dear Student Number 9. Your original costume design gave me a real good laugh when I first saw
it. I even snapped a pic of it and showed it to my friends. They also laughed. It's now become sort
of a joke here in the support department. Even the seniors are poking fun at it. I've even managed
to duck the usual freshman hazing by giving something new for the upper years to mock.
As you've probably figured out by now, your design was bad. Real bad. Like it was drawn by a five
year old bad. So as a favor I redesigned almost all of it to better suit your needs. Enjoy!
Midoriya blinks. That was a little mean, but also nice? He isn't a costume designer, so he can
understand a little bit of change. But was it really bad enough to warrant a nearly complete
overhaul? The only way to know would be to ask the support department, but that’s something he
doesn't feel like doing.
"Y-yeah, I get a second chance because I put forth my best effort. At least, that's what Mr. Aizawa
says." Midoriya looks up and over to Oto, who's chatting with the other boys as they finish putting
on their costumes. Midoriya hurries to take off his uniform.
"That's so weird, dude," another says, "like, can you imagine if a medical school did that? They'd
probably be torn to pieces on the evening news!"
"Yeah, well, this is UA. They've got enough street cred to get away with loads of stuff other
schools couldn't even think about," a third boy points out.
"That's fair, but Aizawa kicking six kids out then welcoming one back isn't normal. I checked the
graduation statistics of UA, and almost every hero course has twenty make it. If they don't, they
have eighteen or nineteen," someone else says.
A loud banging startles the room into silence. "If you have time to talk, you can leave the room,"
the voice of Aizawa comes through the door. "This isn't social hour. Remember, UA doesn't
tolerate time-wasters."
Picking up the pace, Midoriya hurries into his costume. First is a thin pair of black socks, followed
by a pair of white compression pants and a similar shirt. Then comes the dark green jumpsuit,
which is all one piece and has built-in pads for all of his vital bits. That’s definitely an
improvement over his original design. The one he submitted was rather lacking in protection. After
the jumpsuit comes the belt, gloves (reinforced with extra studs for grip), and shoes, which are
thankfully the same dark red he asked for.
The seven other boys plus Midoriya (who’s still hastily slipping on his respirator) quickly exit the
locker room after that and gather by the door like Vlad had said to. The girls eventually join them,
and with one last once-over from the two teachers, Vlad King speaks.
"Alright, pay close attention, because I'm going to explain the combat exercise." The man in red
opens the door to a dark, high walled room. Most of the space is dominated by one huge screen,
which is hooked up to a rather small computer. The class files in, with Aizawa behind them. Vlad
waits for the excited chatter to calm down before speaking again.
"Today's exercise is a team one. You'll be in pairs, fighting in a mock sewer. It's dry and clean, so
there's no need to worry about that." He reaches over and hits a button on the keyboard of the
computer. A short starting animation plays on screen before a loading bar takes its place. "Cameras
are installed, so everyone else will be watching the matches." Vlad looks over to Aizawa, who
continues.
"We'll be going over your performances in class tomorrow, as well as picking an MVP for each
match. Keep in mind that every aspect of this is intentionally designed to test your current ability."
He pauses and looks over the class. His eyes zero in on Midoriya. "Remember that you're expected
to give your all and then some. Vlad, you can call teams."
Vlad King draws a breath to speak, but is interrupted by a hand shooting up. "Er, yes," he says, "I
can take a few questions. What is it?"
Noburo lowers her hand. "Isn't this a little sudden? Shouldn't we get a lesson in how to fight
indoors first?"
"You will. Tomorrow, after I critique your performance," Aizawa answers. "I want to know what
you need to know before I teach you. It's better that way." Noburo nods, accepting the answer.
"Right then," Vlad taps his clipboard on twice, regaining attention. "Your groups are listed on the
screen behind me. You're not allowed to talk strategy until your group is called, and when you are
called, you'll get five minutes, after which you may engage in combat." Some of the students seem
to perk up at that, but Aizawa cuts that off.
"However, we're not going to let you go all out with your Quirks. Injuring your opponent is
allowed, but unnecessary roughness isn't. You'll also be given fake capture tape to use. When
applied to at least three of a person's limbs, it signifies defeat." Midoriya's homeroom teacher eyes
the class over critically before looking up at the teams.
Scanning the screen, Midoriya quickly finds his name boxed in with Oto Kenji below a bold letter
C. Looking around the room, he quickly finds his partner, who's standing on the edge of the group.
Midoriya manages to catch his eye and shoots the boy a smile. His partner smiles back nervously
and gives him the thumbs up. Satisfied, Midoriya faces forwards again in time to see the screen
change to a live video feed.
"Teams C and F, you're up!" Vlad calls, double checking each of the cameras. "Aizawa will escort
you to the entry point and give you the capture tape. Then your five minutes will start."
True to Vlad's word, Mr. Aizawa leads the two teams out of the dim room and out to a mock city.
Midoriya takes a moment to look over Team F, which has three members.
One is Noburo, whose costume is based on biker wear, with a cropped jacket that lets her use her
Quirk. The other two are boys, one in a yellow jumpsuit and helmet, and the other wearing a
sleeveless coat and leather pants. Midoriya remembers that one has a linear acceleration Quirk, and
the other can extend his arms up to fifty meters.
Aizawa stops walking in front of a pair of low cement buildings. He reaches into his scarf and pulls
out six rolls of white tape. Turning around, he tosses each student one and an extra to Oto. "Team
C is on the left, Team F on the right. When your time's up, head down the ladder. Don't disappoint
me," Aizawa says, walking right back to where they left. "Oh, and your time starts now!"
Midoriya immediately grabs his partner by the arm and takes him into the building. Inside is a
table, which he sits down on, and starts to think. Linear acceleration wouldn't be too good in the
confines of a sewer, but extending arms and spikes of metal would come in handy. With Full Cowl,
he could move around easy enough, but floating would be difficult. His partner's flames would be
handy but very eye-catching. Stealth, while preferable due to the number disadvantage, was
probably out. Maybe—
"Yeesh, you've got a quick head!" Oto comments, drumming his fingers in the wood of the table. "I
think you've already got half a plan."
Midoriya feels himself go red. "Oh, I'm sorry! I didn't mean to exclude you! Uh, what do you think
we should do! Just because I got first doesn't mean I should be in charge. Wait, sorry, I didn't mean
it that w—!"
Oto laughs and rubs the back of his neck self-consciously. "Yeah, I guess I didn't make that much
of an impression yesterday, so it's cool." His expression turns serious, "But I'm here to change that.
Now, you said my Quirk is too flashy?"
Midoriya nods sheepishly, "Yeah, mine too. And the sewer is probably really dark, so too much
light wouldn't be good. Plus your costume is kinda bright."
Oto tugs his flame orange tank top with a smile. "Yeah, I figured I'd go for eye-catching. That way,
more people will focus on me!"
Midoriya stares at his partner for a moment. "I think… I think that could work in our favor."
Oto cocks his head. "How so?"
"You're flashy, very flashy," Midoriya explains. "If you go down and make a lot of noise and light,
then they'll come for you assuming we're together. If you can hold them off long enough, then I can
sneak up on and take out one of them. After that we can fight on even terms!"
Oto thinks for a moment. "Okay, but your Quirk makes light, too. How will we make sure they
come for me?"
Midoriya mulls that over, then stands. One for All and Float were once separate, right? So maybe
he can fly without the green lighting. Triggering his Quirk, Midoriya keeps the level below one
percent. Then, he closes his eyes and concentrates on the way he felt at the entrance exam, the
feeling reminiscent of flying through the air on his own wings that he remembers vividly from the
first time he used Float.
By the time he opens his eyes, he can already tell he's hovering above the ground. And there's no
green lightning, just a little bit of glow coming from his skin. It's difficult, but he could probably
hold it long enough to get the drop on someone. "I think I got it."
Oto smiles confidently. "If you can keep that up, then we've got this in the bag."
Midoriya grins and lets himself fall the two inches to the floor. "I hope so."
[x]
Aizawa sucks down a jelly package as he stares intently at the screen before him. The teams for the
hero exercise were not random. He picked them himself. This first match between C and F had the
three students with the most potential, plus a couple more that some other B-list hero schools
would be happy to take, but certainly not U.A.
"Teams C and F, your time is up. Please enter the sewer," Vlad says into the intercom. Aizawa
focuses on who descends first on each team. Oto does for C, and Noburo does for F. Both teams
have solid, if simple, plans. F intends to focus on brute force and overwhelming numbers, while C
has decided to try something more sneaky.
Aizawa himself is slightly biased towards the stealthier option, though he's professional enough to
realize that both have merit. Why should Team F bother to come up with a complex plan when
they could comb the whole of the location and deal with the enemy using their number advantage?
They shouldn't. Keeping things simple at the skill level they're at is important and the best way to
get a feel for the basics. Let the third years come up with the multi-phase operations. The freshmen
will keep it nice and simple. For now.
Of course, Aizawa has a slight inkling of who will win in this match up. Or more accurately, what
the outcome will be based on first the first contact. If Midoriya and Oto manage to knock out
Noburo with their plan (and they would go for Noburo—she's the biggest threat), then Team C
would be victorious. But if Team F manages to shake off Midoriya's capture attempt and keep all
their members, then the brawl that follows would end in a Team F victory.
"Hey, Midoriya?" The voice of Oto sounds through Aizawa's earpiece.
"What is it?" The pair are quietly walking through the low-lit sewers, waiting until they hear signs
of the other team.
"I was thinking, maybe you should take my tape. I can't exactly use it with my flame arms."
There's a short pause. "Only if you're sure."
Aizawa watches as Oto tosses a roll of tape to Midoriya. Satisfied, he switches cameras to have a
better view of Team F. The trio are aligned in a triangle formation, with Noburo at the point. That's
a good move. Her Quirk works better in a straight line, and the other two would do well with a
distraction keeping the enemy occupied.
The two teams gradually draw closer to each other, though it takes some time. Oto hasn't begun
making noise yet, which makes the viewing a bit dull for the students behind him.
Then, "Alright, make some noise," Midoriya orders, barely visible as he floats up to the ceiling of a
particularly tall room. He must've heard one of the enemy students trip over their own feet.
It's dim enough that Midoriya is nearly invisible, though his proximity to the single naked lightbulb
in the room would give away his position if someone looks down. That, however, could be
forgiven just this once. Oto would make enough light to banish the shadow.
A torrent of flame erupts from the upper body of Oto, roaring like a wild beast. Two three meter
pillars of fire swing about the room, the originator smiling like any teenager does when they use
their Quirk. On another screen, Aizawa notes that Team F has heard and is already rushing to the
source of the noise. So far, so good.
Then the student with the speed Quirk breaks formation and rushes ahead. Noburo curses and
rushes to catch up, and the third teammate follows.
The boy who broke off reaches the room with Team C first, about thirty seconds before the other
two would get there. Aizawa leans forward slightly, interested in how Midoriya and Oto would
repurpose their plan.
Oto wastes no time rushing forward to better distract the other boy, and Midoriya mirrors his
actions fifteen feet up. Zashi, the boy with the speed Quirk, tries to get around Oto, but flanking a
person who can swivel their arms 360° is almost impossible. Zashi ends up tripping, and Midoriya
quickly pounces, wrapping his legs up in a strip of capture tape before doing his arms in a separate
strip.
"Zashi Mori has been eliminated!" Vlad calls into the intercom. On screen, Oto smiles with delight
as Midoriya hurriedly readies another roll of capture tape. It was a clean capture; Aizawa is almost
impressed. But he's more disappointed in Zashi's willingness to break from his team.
Barely five seconds pass after Midoriya subdues the bigger boy before Noburo bursts in with her
teammate on her heels. Aizawa notes that she quickly scanned the room before rushing Midoriya,
who leapt into the air. The suddenness of it all seems to catch Oto off guard, and Moku, the boy
with extendable arms, quickly slams him into a wall. The boy's flames flicker out, and Oto is
sloppily wrapped in capture tape.
Midoriya, most likely seeing his partner being knocked out in the corner of his eye, kicks off the
ceiling, going right for Moku. The boy barely manages to sidestep Midoriya's punch but ends up
slamming into Noburo, who tried to follow Midoriya.
Aizawa can practically see the gears turning in Midoriya's head by now. The boy bites his lip
before a wide, almost manic grin splits across his face. He shoots forward, right between Noburo
and Moku as green lighting trails. Both of the remaining Team F members try to retaliate, Noburo
swiftly growing a trio of angled, dulled spikes (Aizawa mentally thanks her for showing restraint),
and Moku attempting to tangle Midoriya in his arms.
The two attacks collide, with Midoriya flying off towards the ceiling to evade. Noburo swears
loudly before angling her body upwards. A single spike, perhaps six inches in diameter, hits the
concrete above. Midoriya shoots down, having narrowly dodged, and wraps one of Noburo's arms
in capture tape. He tries for a second, but Moku quickly extends an arm, forcing Midoriya to
dodge.
Noburo tries to pick the capture tape off, but Midoriya rushes her again, forcing another set of
spikes and a pair of extended arms to tangle. Midoriya takes that opening and sticks a strand of
capture tape to one of Moku's arms, then uses the same strand to tie up one of Noburo's legs once
he gets close enough.
Noburo and Moku try to pull apart but only succeed in falling over. Midoriya quickly ties them up,
having to dodge a few last ditch spikes.
"Noburo Mai and Moku Ren are captured! Team C wins!" Vlad calls the match.
Aizawa watches as Midoriya sheepishly unties Noburo and offers her a hand up. The girl
begrudging accepts it.
Well. That is definitely a match to rewatch. He's almost—actually, he is impressed, but also
curious.
What training did Midoriya have before U.A?
Chapter End Notes
This is the longest one yet, and I'm not exactly happy with it. Oh well. Next time you'll
probably get some rescue training that doesn't end in a terrorist attack, and Float
training.

Minus 8
Chapter Notes
"Right, good match, you five!" the deep voice of Vlad King carries through the room. Midoriya
feels himself start to smile at the praise. "But now we must pick the MVP. Anyone have any
suggestions?" He turns his attention to the whole of the class.
The majority of 1-A look around at each other, stuck in the all too familiar limbo of wanting to
answer but being too nervous to share what they think. Considering the behavior of their
homeroom teacher, Midoriya can't blame them.
"Well… it's gotta be Midoriya, right?" one girl finally pipes up. She immediately goes red and tries
to shrink into herself. Midoriya feels a pang of empathy. He knows that feeling all too well.
Vlad nods. "That's a good pick, and I won't disagree, but could you explain?"
"He knocked out all of Team F and won a two on one fight," the girl quickly replies.
"That's a very bare-bones answer," Mr. Aizawa speaks up, still scribbling notes on a clipboard in a
way that makes Midoriya's heart palpitate in apprehension. "Would anyone care to expand on it?"
No one does, Midoriya can tell at a glance. Mr. Aizawa seems to have expected this, though, so he
sets his clipboard down and surveys the class with a critical eye. "Out of the five participants,
Midoriya acted the most like a Pro. He came up with an effective plan in the allotted time, listened
to his partner, stayed with said partner the whole exercise, and adapted when things went off the
rails. Some mistakes were made, yes, but for a first lesson he performed near perfectly. The rest of
you should think about what he did and learn from it."
Midoriya feels a wave of heat creep up his neck and onto his face. A bead of sweat forms on his
forehead and trails all the way down to his collarbone. He. Acted like a pro. The words play on
loop in his mind for a bit. Oto, who's still standing beside him, looks at him a bit worriedly.
Midoriya waves him off and tries to listen to Vlad.
"Thank you, Eraser." The taller of the two teachers gives Aizawa a grateful look.
Midoriya's head suddenly loses its embarrassed flush. Eraser. Is that a weird workplace nickname
or an actual title? Maybe it's an inside joke? Maybe it's Aizawa's hero name. Teachers in U.A went
by hero names sometimes, though mostly insisted the students use their actual names.
"Now," the blood hero continues, cutting off Midoriya's train of thought, "we must critique the
losers. Would anyone like to start?" There's another long and painful bout of silence, and Midoriya
tries not to fidget too much. "Well, alright then. I guess I'll do it for you," Vlad says, slightly
miffed. He flips a piece of paper over his clipboard before continuing, "The most glaring issue is
that Zashi broke off," he states bluntly. "Whether it was out of overeagerness or plain stupidity, the
mistake was still what cost Team F the match."
Midoriya sees Zashi shoot his teammates a dirty look from the corner of his eye. "It's not my fault
they couldn't keep up," the boy in yellow mumbles rudely.
"Yes it is," Aizawa sternly corrects. "You used your Quirk to get in position without talking to your
team, not to mention that you ignored the plan you agreed to, which, I will add, had a shot at
succeeding. You're the biggest reason why your team lost. Get over and learn from it."
Zashi mutters something that sounds a bit like a curse under his breath, but Moku elbows him and
gives him a warning look.
"That's all we'll talk about for now. Aizawa will go over more in homeroom tomorrow," Vlad says,
locking eyes with the other teacher. "Alright, next match! Teams A and D, you're up!"
[x]
"The rest of the teams took way longer than us after that. Mr. Aizawa and Mr. Vlad gave lots of
tips throughout the whole thing, though, so it was still really informative." Midoriya rhythmically
continues his hanging curl ups, enjoying the satisfying burn of his abdominal muscles as his
forehead nearly meets his knees.
"Sounds like you came up with a new thing for us to work on," Gran Torino casually flicks
through channel after channel on the TV he mounted in the back of the weight room. The whole
setup is rather impressive, considering he jerry-rigged it with a roll of duct tape and an old coffee
table.
"What do you mean?" Midoriya pauses his curl ups, an upside down view of a gray wall
completely covered in inspirational posters All Might got from the surplus of his merch. Midoriya
had to vehemently insist to him that no, hanging up posters of himself in his own building isn't
egotistic and would even be welcome, but that didn't stop Gran Torino from cracking jokes about it
on the daily.
"You used Float in a new way, allowing you to maneuver midair without extra light. That can be
very useful," Gran explains, mouth half full of taiyaki.
Midoriya thinks for a moment and realizes his point. "But when I use a power output that low, I
can't move as fast. Sure, I can bounce off of walls and stuff at one percent, but that makes noise,
which defeats the purpose of using One for All at one percent."
"All the blood's gonna rush to your head like that," Gran Torino warns, getting up from his seat. He
gives Midoriya a half-hearted whack with his cane, and the boy continues doing his hanging curl
ups, the vest full of weight plates straining his muscles. "And we'll work on your reflexes and
attack line reading so you won't have to worry about moving too slow." He makes his way over to
the basement door, presumably to change into his hero gear. "Once you're done with your workout,
I'll have you chase me around with Float at one percent in the light. Once you get that down, I'll
call it a night. I still have regular hero duties, you know."
Midoriya hurries through his workout after that. As fulfilling as weight training may be, combat
training is infinitely more fun. That's not to say that he skimps on his exercise, though. He'd be a
fool to since One for All requires as much muscle mass as possible to be effective.
Finally, after he finishes his cool-down jog and stretches, Midoriya heads up the flight of stairs
with Gran to work on Float.
"Alright, show me this stealth mode thing, or whatever you're calling it," his teacher orders, rolling
his shoulders and cracking his neck.
Midoriya blinks. "I'm not really calling it anything, but..." He closes his eyes and lets One for All
cover his body in a comfortable one percent. All of the energy is staying in his body, strengthening
him. Then, he reaches out for Float. That's slightly harder, as the free feeling needed to use the
Quirk doesn't exactly go with intense concentration. Eventually, he gets it and hovers a couple
inches off the ground.
Gran Torino looks him over and nods. "I can see how this came into use in that sewer. If it's dark
enough, you'd be nearly invisible. Nice work thinking on the fly like that, kid." He crouches down,
knees bent and hands making contact with the floor. "But if you really wanna be clever with it,
you'll need to be able to move."
Midoriya barely has time to regret ever suggesting more training on top of going to U.A before
Gran shoots forward with a woosh and slams feet first into his gut. Midoriya hits the floor, rolls
over, and dry-heaves.
"I can see why you think it's not good for much, you definitely can't go half as fast with it as you
can with those moves you stole from me. But after today, I'll make sure you can use it somewhat
reliably in combat training." Gran shakes his legs out, as though slamming into Midoriya's stomach
had somehow managed to hurt his knees.
Midoriya takes a couple deep breaths and gets back up. He calls upon the Quirk again and rises
into the air. Gran Torino rushes him without warning again. He's slower than normal, thank god,
but still fast enough to graze Midoriya as he dodges to the side.
Gran's doing his usual tactic of bouncing around the room but at a relative snail's pace. He's also
making sure not to use a pattern. "See if you can keep away from me for five minutes! After that,
we'll shut the lights off till Toshinori gets here. Then he'll have a go!"
It takes thirty gut punches, twenty faceplants, ten wall collisions, five near broken windows, two
actually broken windows, and a kick to head for Midoriya to get a barely decent hang of using
Float at one percent. It doesn't help that Gran Torino keeps varying his speed of attack and using
too many feints and fakeouts for Midoriya to keep track of.
And Gran is only half satisfied with his skill level. That means more and more training in the
coming weeks, and since Midoriya wants to excel, he'd come in for practice on weekends, too. But
he’s fine with that. Stealth training is probably reserved for upper years at U.A, or for students
whose Quirks are stealth-oriented, and Midoriya doesn't want to wait.
All the difficulty of Gran's training is instantly tripled the second the man flicks off the lights. Yes,
there are the two broken windows to let in some afternoon sun, but the whole training room is still
neatly pitch black.
At first, Midoriya thought it would be a level field. If he couldn't see, then surely Gran Torino, a
man in his late seventies/early eighties, couldn't, right? Wrong. Gran could see way better than
Midoriya, though if the boy is honest, his mentor doesn't have to. The man's other senses easily
covered for his loss of sight.
His mentor takes pity on him about two minutes into lights out training. After receiving a couple
basic tips on fighting in the dark (don't rely on your eyes too much, sound travels slower than you
think it does, fast-moving targets always displace noticeable amounts of air), Midoriya fares a little
better, though Gran stops prematurely and says that they'll work more on stealth after he can move
better.
Midoriya relaxes for a while after that. All Might's on patrol from 11-5 and won't be able to visit
the gym until later, so Midoriya works on his homework and occasionally scribbles or edits
something in his journals. Most of his classmates have rather interesting Quirks. One girl could
make portals fifty centimeters in diameter anywhere she could see, one boy could magnetize parts
of his body, and there’s even a boy who could shrink whatever he touches with all five fingers.
Of the fourteen others in his class, however, only a handful put a decent amount of thought into
using their Quirks. It frustrates Midoriya to no end. They all have amazing abilities along with a
decade to think on uses for them, but they simply refuse to get creative.
His notebooks offer some solace. Studying, classifying, and applying Quirks has always been a
comfort, and after a day like today, it’s greatly soothing.
Midoriya is halfway through sketching a picture of a rather interesting support item he'd seen on
the news that morning when the door to the gym creaks open. He stands and looks up to greet All
Might like he always does, but his predecessor isn't alone.
A rather tall man in a beige trench coat and matching hat gives Midoriya a stiff nod as he holds the
door open for All Might's skeletal form. "Really, Toshinori, you could have picked a better
building. This ones barely up to code!" The man carefully undoes his cost and folds it over his arm.
"It's hard to find a cheap building on such short notice, you know. The boy needed more training
before UA, and this was really the only option." All Might leads the man over to where Midoriya's
sitting.
"Hi, Al—er, I mean, hi, Yagi," Midoriya greets awkwardly. He closes his open notebook and dusts
off his t-shirt. He'd gone home and gotten changed like usual, but the shirt he has is a little
wrinkled.
"Young Midoriya!" All Might says, "Where's Gran?"
"Taking a nap," Midoriya answers, "said I had too much energy and wanted to get some rest before
he went out tonight."
The other man smirks. "That sounds like Gran Torino, alright." Midoriya looks at him oddly, and
the man notices. "Ah, sorry, where are my manners?" He reaches out a hand. "I'm detective
Tsukauchi of the Musutafu Police Department. I've known All Might for years."
Midoriya takes his hand and shakes it, looking to All Might for confirmation. His mentor nods.
"Tsukauchi is safe; he knows all there is to know about One for All. We've been working on a case
in the area, so I figured I'd bring him by and introduce you to him."
"Nice to meet you, detective," Midoriya says, letting go of the man's hand. "I'm Midoriya, All
Might's successor."
The detective chuckles. "I already know who you are. All Might thinks quite highly of you."
Midoriya feels his face turn scarlet. He tries to say something, anything, but everything comes out
as a garbled mess.
All Might pats him on the shoulder. "Yes, he's quite amazing. I'm sure you'd find his progress to be
impressive." He thinks for a moment. "Actually, would you like to watch a bit of the boy's
training? He has to be home soonish, so it won't be much, but it'll still be interesting."
"I guess I've got some time," Tsukauchi replies, taking off his hat and setting it on the counter.
"Where do you two train?"
"Just upstairs," All Might explained, already moving to the staircase. "Midoriya, get the balloons
from the closest, will you? And do seventy obstacles this time."
"On it!" Midoriya answers eagerly.
By the time Midoriya gets the bundle of balloons upstairs, All Might is in an animated discussion
with the detective. Instead of interrupting them, Midoriya sets up the usual course for Float
training. It consists of 70-odd black balloons and 10 white ones scattered randomly throughout the
room at varying heights. The goal of the balloon exercise is to get all 10 white balloons without
popping or touching the black ones or the walls. All Might's initial rules involved not touching the
strings either, but that proved to be way too difficult.
Once he’s done, Midoriya looks over to the corner where All Might stands. His mentor gives him a
thumbs up, and Midoriya pushes off the ground.
Immediately he has to swirl to the left, narrowly dodging a low-hanging balloon. The closest white
one is maybe ten feet straight up, so Midoriya rises into the air, spinning around a couple black
ones. Already his movements are causing the black balloons to float around, and one very nearly
grazes his arm.
Grabbing the first balloon, Midoriya lets himself free fall for a couple feet, twisting out of the way
of a black one before shooting off to his left. The next target is surrounded by a bunch of black
balloons, so Midoriya stops dead and lets the breeze that always seems to follow him when he
moves with One for All to scatter the group of rubber orbs.
As he grabs the second balloon, Midoriya realizes that he’s at most a foot from the wall. Barely
having enough time to react, he harshly stops, very nearly losing control of Float, which would
have sent him falling to the floor.
Taking a couple deep breaths, Midoriya moves again, flying towards the closest white balloon. It's
pretty isolated from most of the other ones, so Midoriya allows a bit more power to creep into his
body, going a bit faster than strictly necessary. He doesn't see the tiny, underfilled black balloon
sink into his trajectory until it's too late.
Midoriya collides face first with the latex, popping the balloon with a mortifying crack. He sinks to
the floor, disappointed.
"You did better that time!" All Might congratulates as he walks over with Tsukauchi. "This is a
hard exercise, but you made it look easy until you got overeager."
Midoriya winces. "Yeah, I know."
"I think you did quite well, actually. Was that your first time doing that exercise?" the detective
asks, standing at All Might's side.
"No, but it was my first time with that many balloons," Midoriya answers. "I started with just the
white ones, then added more. I can manage fifty pretty well, but seventy… well, you saw."
Tsukauchi nods. "That's the right way to go about it. Start simple then build from there.” Then,
"All Might tells me that you used a new move in class today. Care to explain?"
Midoriya cocks his head, "How did…"

"We're both on good terms with Nedzu," All Might explains, "He allowed me to watch your
performance so I could better understand how you needed to improve."
"Oh," Midoriya says, "well, it wasn't really a move. I needed a way to surprise the other team, and
I have the habit of releasing a lot of light when I use One for All, so I barely used any power and
made sure to keep it all in, then floated up to surprise them."
"I'd say that's a move," Tsukauchi argues, "Sure, it's not complicated or flashy, but it's good that
you're not focused on imitating your teachers."
All Might nods. "Yes, I've never felt the need for sneaking around, and Gran Torino really only
ever bothers with stealth out of necessity."
"Um, what?" Midoriya asks. Not imitating All Might or Gran? They’re what he bases nearly
everything combat-related on. Gran taught him his moves, and All Might literally gave him his
power. How could he not do what they do?
"It's something to think about," Tsukauchi settles on after he notices Midoriya's confusion. "Well,
it was nice meeting you, Midoriya. You'll be a fine hero one day, and if you need a friend on the
police force, I might be your guy."
All Might bids his friend goodbye then leads Midoriya downstairs. They take a seat by the counter.
Midoriya's predecessor seems to consider something for a long moment, looking at his hands.
Midoriya waits patiently for him to speak.
"Do you understand what Tsukauchi and I were getting at back there?" he asks after a while.
Midoriya thinks. "Not… really. I mean, I'm not you or Gran, but you two teach me. Shouldn't I
take what you give me and go with it?"
All Might nods. "You should, but also shouldn't." Midoriya shoots him a confused look. All Might
quickly explains. "It's good to draw inspiration from people who are better, at the same level, or
even worse than you. But you shouldn't mimic everything to a T."
Midoriya blinks. "I still don't get it."
All Might sighs and twiddles his thumbs for a bit. "It's like writing a paper," he settles on. "When
you write something for school, do you take what information you find online or in a book and put
exactly what it says on your assignment?"
"No, that'd be illegal," Midoriya answers.
"But you still use what your sources say in your project?" All Might asks.
"Of course," Midoriya agrees. "I don't know everything, so I use what I can find, take the best
parts, and mold them to my needs."
"You said it," All Might smiles, "you said exactly what I was going for."
"'Take the best parts and mold them to my needs?'" Midoriya repeats.
"Yes. Not everything I do will work for you, but you can still learn from me." All Might gets up
from his seat, "Think about my style—Gran's too—and how you can take what we do and make it
better suited to your needs."
"But you're both pros with decades of experience! How can I improve on that?"
"My boy, you don't have to surpass me just yet," All Might explains gently. "There's no rush. I
have a couple of years left as a hero if I'm careful, which is plenty of time for you to grow. Take
your time and think things out, alright? You're good at that. Now come on, I'll walk you to the train
station."
[x]
The next day at lunch, Midoriya sits in the same spot next to the support students. Like the day
previous, he barely gets to settle in before a tray slams down across from him.
Flinching, he looks up to see the smiling face of Oto. "Uh, hey," his former partner says. "Can I sit
here?"
Midoriya blinks. "Sure!"
Oto grins even wider and slides into his seat across the table. "Sweet.” He quickly takes a bite of
his lunch (some strong-smelling chicken over rice) before asking, "Hey, did you get the last bullet
point in English? I couldn't quite make it out, and everyone else I asked doesn't have it either."
"Oh, yeah, sure!" Midoriya quickly flicks through his backpack and pulls out a red spiral notebook.
He slides it across the table and opens it to the most recent page. "It's nothing too important, just a
couple more examples of Homonyms."
Oto chews as he looks over Midoriya's nest notes. He swallows and offers a grateful smile.
"Thanks, man, appreciate it."
Midoriya nods and pulls the notebook away. "No problem. Sorry if it was a bit messy, I write too
quickly sometimes."
"Oh, I could read it just fine," Oto reassures. "I write in chicken scratch—"
For the second time that day, a tray slams down onto the table. Midoriya jumps in his seat and
looks at the tray to see a steaming dish of soba. Then, he looks up to see Noburo, whose face is
schooled in a confidently curious expression.
"Talking shit about me behind my back?" she asks, calmly sitting down next to Midoriya.
Oto snorts. "Hardly. If anyone should be talking shit about anyone, it should be you about your
team."
Noburo rolls her eyes. "Whatever. At least I passed."
Midoriya winces, because, well, some people didn't pass. Mr. Aizawa has apparently never heard
of taking it easy for the first day because he graded all fifteen students of 1-A like some kind of
demon.
"Yeah, well, you still lost," Oto counters, a piece of chicken hanging out of his mouth. "How does
it feel to lose on the first day?"
Noburo raises an eyebrow. "I'm sorry, but how quickly were you taken out? It happened so fast I
couldn't keep track."
Oto's left eye twitches a bit. "Alright, I'll give you that one. But I will still stand by the fact that my
team won and yours lost, so there."
Noburo let out a puff of air, amused. She doesn't answer, instead choosing to focus on eating lunch.
Midoriya does the same, eating his pork as he fills in his hero notebook.
"Hey, Midoriya?" Oto asks, "What're you writing in there?"
Midoriya stares at him for a moment. "Hero notes," he says carefully. His notebooks weren’t
exactly popular back in middle school—a lot of other kids called them stalker journals or mocked
him for being a Quirk nerd who didn't have a Quirk of his own.
"Like regular notes but for hero stuff?" Oto leans forward a bit, trying to read Midoriya's writing
upside down. "That's cool. Aizawa has us write notes in class, but I've never thought of writing
more in my free time."
"Uh, yeah," Midoriya slowly moves his notebook closer to him. "It really helps me out sometimes.
Like yesterday I got Noburo and Moku to hinder each other instead of help, like Midnight does
sometimes."
"Huh, cool. My parents do advertising work for a couple hero agencies. They have to look at a
hero's behavior and move set to better showcase them. Is it kinda like that?" Oto sits back, the
chicken on his chopsticks forgotten.
"A little," Midoriya says. "I'm not using other people's moves to be more flashy or to show off.
Instead I use what I've seen in situations where I need it. Like yesterday."
"So you beat me because you're a nerd?" Noburo asks. Her tone isn't mean or hurtful. It seems…
friendly, almost, but has a little bit of edge.
"Yes?" Midoriya tries to look her in the eye, but can't quite do it.
"Relax, I'm messing with you." Noburo swirls her soba around with her chopsticks. "I'm not mad or
anything, just a little miffed that I couldn't think of a counter fast enough."
"O-oh, uh, alright," Midoriya stutters, looking back down at his lunch. It feels like they've been
talking for a while, but he's barely half done with his food. Usually, he has a ton of time to do
homework or look at his phone during lunch.
Then, the bell rings. The three of them glance at each other, then their barely touched lunches.
"Shit," Noburo mutters, hurriedly scarfing down her still steaming noodles. Midoriya ignores her
mutters of how hot the broth is to quickly eat his lunch. He can already tell he'll have hiccups in
class, but that's better than missing half a meal.
Oto is already gone. Somehow, he managed to pour the whole of his lunch down his throat and
swallow it whole like a snake. It was actually quite impressive, and Midoriya would have taken
notes or maybe drawn a sketch if he wasn't busy chugging his glass of water in between bites of
pork.
Once he finishes his food, Midoriya packs up his backpack with practiced ease and makes for
class, Noburo just a few steps behind him. They make it to the hero course hall with thirty seconds
to spare, passing a tired-looking Aizawa, who doesn't even bat an eye as they sprint into class 1-A.
The two sit down, not noticing the odd looks of their classmates.
Like homeroom that morning, Aizawa walks in with the bell and casts a sweeping gaze over the
entire room. "Good, you're all ready." He reaches into a pocket and pulls out his phone, types
something out, then slips it back into his pocket. "We'll be doing another practical class today,
though it won't be combat." A couple students mutter at that, exchanging curious looks. "It'll be
rescue," Aizawa says before the chatter can get too out of hand. "Vlad and I, plus our resident
rescue specialist, will be taking you to the USJ, our search and rescue training facility."
"Sir.” One girl in the back row raises her hand. "Where is the USJ?"
"On campus, but far enough away that we need to take a bus," Aizawa replies. "Any other
questions?" No one else raises their hand. "Alright. You can wear your gym clothes instead of your
costumes if you like. It's best if you wear something comfortable for this." He gives them one last
once-over before turning around and walking out of the door. "Go get changed and meet me
outside, we don't have all day."
Midoriya is the first one to get changed, forgoing his hero costume for the heavy blue fabric of his
U.A gym uniform. It's not that his hero costume is uncomfortable, but it's more complex than most
of the others' costumes, with its pads and multiple layers.
Oto and Noburo join him quickly, both wearing their costumes, which are almost street clothes in
comparison to his. Aizawa, who's standing watch by the door of a short bus, makes a couple marks
on his clipboard before waving them on.
The bus has exactly sixteen spots plus the driver's seat, arranged so there's an aisle going right
down the middle. Midoriya picks the left side, and Oto and Noburo follow. It's a little weird having
people his age who want to be around him, but it's a pleasant change of pace, so he doesn't
complain.
Eventually, everyone else gets on and sits. A couple of the boys look at Oto a bit oddly, probably
because he chose to sit next to Midoriya, but they all brush it off and talk. Vlad King also steps on
with Aizawa, and they take the seats up front, talking in hushed tones as the bus starts and pulls
away.
The ride to the USJ is a quick one. Midoriya has a casual conversation with his two… friends?
Acquaintances? Rival and former ally? Noburo and Oto. He'll stick with calling them by name for
now.
After fifteen minutes, the bus stops and everyone gets out. Aizawa and Vlad lead them up to the
doors and halt right in front of them. USJ is written in gold lettering above the doors, and the whole
facility is domed in, presumably for climate control.
"I expect you all to be on your best behavior," Aizawa warns. "Pay attention and respect the other
teacher. They know their stuff." He and Vlad then open the doors and hold them open for the class.
Fifteen students and two teachers walk into the main courtyard, and Midoriya has to bite his lip to
keep from muttering because The Space Hero Thirteen is right there holy shit.
"Hello, students!" Thirteen says, approaching with a friendly wave. "Like some of you may know,
I am Thirteen, UA's rescue specialist, and the designer of this facility." They hold up a gloved
hand. "Before we get started, I have a couple things to say. In the two days previous, you've found
ways to use your Quirks in different ways. In your Quirk test, you used them in a practical manner.
In combat training, you used them to harm. Today, I'll be teaching you how to use your powers to
rescue!"
Midoriya can't help but brighten at that. He's always felt that rescue operations are just as
important, if not more so than apprehending villains. One for All has very obvious combat
capabilities, but All Might has used it in countless situations to save people's lives. Now he could
learn to do the same.
"Now, does anyone have any questions?" Midoriya is half tempted to raise his hand but refrains
when no one else does. Most of his class seem to only half pay attention, which, judging by the
look on Aizawa's face, is a very bad thing. "Seeing none," Thirteen continues, their voice just a
touch less eager. "Let's get started with something simple."
Apparently, 'Something simple' doesn't mean the same thing in U.A as it does in the rest of Japan
because Thirteen leads them to a larger domed building that's pouring rain inside. Midoriya's glad
that he wore his gym uniform. He's got three sets, and only one Hero Costume, which would be a
pain to dry.
In the Downpour Zone, Thirteen gives them a rundown of what a building affected by heavy rain
needs, along with ideas of how to help people caught in it. Heat is most important, they explain.
Water is really good at cooling down bodies, so warming citizens is a top priority. Building
integrity is also touched on, as extreme amounts of water can weaken foundations.
Next up is Conflagration, which comprises a whole city block that's perpetually on fire. It's a nice
way to dry off, and Midoriya learns that most fire rescue is performed by actual firefighters, as
most heroes aren't equipped to deal with flames and intense heat.
After Conflagration is the Landslide Zone, then the Flood Zone. Then the Collapses Zone and
Ruins. Above all, Thirteen stresses speed and structural integrity when dealing with urban disasters,
and by the time they make it to the Mountain Zone, Midoriya's head is spinning.
He should've brought his notebook because any and all notes he had on famous rescues aren't up to
snuff. Thirteen had mentioned that most rescues seen on TV were the worst kind, where drastic and
potentially dangerous measures were needed to save lives. Therefore, Midoriya had been
misinformed on rescue for years.
It takes a couple dirty looks from classmates and a soft elbow from Noburo for Midoriya to realize
that he's muttering again. He apologizes, but she just shrugs it off, insisting that it was just slightly
distracting having to listen to both him and Thirteen.
"And that's the Mountain Zone! It's different from the rest, with no buildings and all, but I thought
it was important for students to practice in non-urban areas," Thirteen says, wrapping up their
segment. "Are there any questions?"
Midoriya watches as one boy mutters something in another's ear. They both nod, and one raises his
hand. "Yes, you!" Thirteen points them out, happy to have the first question of the day.
Midoriya tries to listen in to what the boy asks, but another classmate, this time a tall girl, grabs his
shoulder from behind and pulls him closer to the edge. Predictably, Midoriya flushes, stuttering the
whole way over to a huddle of students, which is basically every boy except him and Oto.
The girl lets go of him eventually, joining the rest of the group who's looking over the edge of the
fake mountain.
"That's a long way down," one boy comments.
"How long?" another asks.
"I dunno, at least fifty meters," the girl replies.

"Hey, Midoriya," another boy asks. Midoriya recognizes him as Moku. "Have you ever been
bungee jumping before?"
"Huh? Um, no," Midoriya says truthfully. He has nearly fallen off a three story building, though,
which must be pretty close.
"Do you wanna?" Moku asks with a slightly devious look on his face. Over by the front of the
group, Thirteen finishes answering the question they were asked earlier.
"Not re—" Midoriya doesn't get to finish his answer before one of Moku's arms is wrapped around
his ankle and he's pushed off the edge of the fake mountain by another boy.
Time seems to slow down. He calls for Float, but he's too panicked for it to work. But then, long,
thin strands of heavy, warm cloth are wrapped around his body, and the arm around his ankle goes
slack. Midoriya is pulled up, heart racing as he drinks in the feeling of solid ground.
"You seven are going to tell me exactly what your thought process was, or all of your academic
careers are over." Mr. Aizawa's voice is deathly calm and dripping with disgust. His eyes glow a
bright crimson, and his scarf lets go of Midoriya and wraps back around his neck.
The entire group of students, along with the two other teachers, are completely silent. No one dares
to answer. "Very well, then." Aizawa crosses his arms. "I'll be having a phone call with the
principal on the way back. We'll make sure everyone in this class, bar Midoriya, is blacklisted
from every hero school this side of the Pacific."
"No, wait!" the girl who led Midoriya to the edge cries. "It was us seven and Lin! We just wanted a
laugh! Just push him off and then pull him up, you know?"
"I'm afraid I don't," Aizawa says coolly. He blinks, and the glow in his eyes disperses. "Vlad, take
those eight and walk them back to school. Show 'em to Nedzu. Tell the rat I recommend expulsion.
The rest of you, on the bus. Now."
Everyone quickly obeys. Eight crying children are led away by Vlad, and six slack-jawed and
wide-eyed students are rushed away by Thirteen. Midoriya, however, can't move. He stands there,
staring at Mr. Aizawa. His teacher stares back.
"You okay, kid?" the man asks. His expression has softened, but there's still trace amounts of anger
in his eyes.
"You're Eraserhead," Midoriya breathes.
Aizawa raises an eyebrow. "I'll take that as a yes." He turns and gestures for Midoriya to follow.
"Hurry up. I don't want to be late getting back. There's business to attend to.”
Chapter End Notes
Fuck me this was supposed to be like half as long as it is, but I couldn't stop typing and
here we are. I'm happy with it, though. I feel like it's one of my better chapters. Oh,
and please don't expect the coming chapters to be this long. They might end up being
that way, but they could just as easily be 3 or 4 thousand words as they could be 6
thousand.
Anyways, next one will have more expulsions and probably Sports Festival training. I
hoped you enjoyed! Cheers!
Then There Were Two
Chapter Notes
The worst part about getting shoved off a fifty meter cliff, Midoriya thinks, is how worried it
makes his mom. Midoriya Inko is a strong woman—she has to be, to raise a Quirkless kid alone.
But she's got a very sensitive heart and the ability to cry a literal puddle of tears.
His mother's tears are why Midoriya tries to get Nedzu and Eraserhead (he still can't believe that
the Eraserhead has been teaching him this whole time) to downplay the events when they file an
official report. It would have worked back in middle school—god knows that everything and
anything to do with Aldera hated him—but at U.A, everything has to go by the books. And the look
Mr. Aizawa gives him when he asks is a slightly horrifying mix of worry and anger that makes
Midoriya's stomach churn.
Not every student involved in the prank gets expelled. Oh, Eraserhead wants them to be. He makes
sure to voice his opinion loudly at every opportunity. But Nedzu can't. Being complicit in assault
(because being pushed off a cliff is assault) isn't quite as bad of a crime as actually assisting said
assault. Therefore, only four are expelled: The girl that led Midoriya closer to the edge, Moku,
who tied his ankle, the boy who pushed him, and the boy who asked Thirteen a question to distract
them. The rest are booted to General Education and told that they're being watched closely.
Their punishment is only so light because Midoriya can't bring himself to press charges. People
always deserve a second chance, even if they nearly killed him.
Classes resume in earnest that Friday, which Midoriya is grateful for. Gran and All Might heard
about what happened through Detective Tsukauchi because a police report was filed. His two
teachers try to take it easy on him, which, while Midoriya's grateful for it, he'd much rather brush it
off and return to normal. He'll fall a lot as a Pro Hero, so it's best to get used to it early, right? That
doesn't stop All Might from insisting that he takes some days off and writing a strongly
opinionated email to Nedzu about how he runs his school.
While normal school starts back up, Hero Class is put on hold for a week—or rather, the practical
lessons are. It's a little awkward, having to learn how to save lives from lectures and worksheets,
but they manage. Midoriya eats lunch with Oto and Noburo every day, which is surprisingly fun.
They even take interest in his hero ramblings.
When practical lessons start up again, it's a little awkward. With a class of seven, Vlad King has to
rework most of his lesson plans, and whenever he asks a question, it's like pulling teeth to get an
answer from anyone other than Midoriya, who's still getting used to the feeling of being noticed by
a teacher and has started raising his hand at every opportunity.
But then, on the third Monday of March, Mr. Aizawa walks into class three minutes early. It's a
novelty; the man usually prefers to wait until the bell rings to enter. Midoriya, Noburo, and Oto,
who are in the midst of a heated discussion about the best age of All Might, freeze upon seeing
him. The three students and the one teacher have a stare-off, neither party saying a word for one
hundred and eighty seconds.
Then, the bell rings. 1-A is missing four members, which is weird. No one wants to not show up to
U.A, even if they're sick.
Aizawa coughs, shaking everyone out of their trance. Somehow, he looks more tired than usual.
"Last night, your classmates decided to throw a party.” His voice is monotone, like always, though
he sounds vaguely disappointed. "That, in itself, is not a bad thing. However," his expression
intensifies, "consuming alcohol underage is not."
"Wait, you're saying…" Noburo trails off, her voice thick with disbelief.
Aizawa nods. "Yes, the four students not present today were caught drinking alcoholic substances
and were picked up for public intoxication and underage drinking. They are no longer students at
UA."
They all sit in silence for a moment, mulling everything over. Midoriya himself feels slightly pitiful
for his former classmates, but really, even he has to admit that they brought it on themselves. There
was enough controversy with allowing adult Pros to drink alcohol when they're not on an extended
break, and with heroes in training… well, no one wanted to be saved by a Pro who couldn't
remember his training because he was hungover one class.
"So it's just us three now," Oto says. By the tone of his voice, it's definitely not a question. "What's
gonna happen?"
Aizawa sighs. "That's partly for you guys to decide. Since this is such a… unique situation, the
principal wants to meet with you three to figure stuff out. Follow me."
Eraserhead leads them through the long, wide halls of U.A to an elevator. He opens it, gesturing for
his students to get on first before he steps in himself. Then he pushes a button that says 'Level R,'
which is the topmost one. With a beep, it starts to rise at a slightly quicker pace than the average
elevator. After roughly thirty seconds, the compartment stops, and the doors open with another
beep.
Eraserhead wordlessly steps off, leading them into a brightly-lit and clean hallway. At the end of
the hallway is a tall door with a square flap at the bottom, like a doggy door Midoriya's seen in
some movies, and a simple plaque that reads Principal. The teacher wordlessly knocks on the steel
of the door.
"Come in!" a familiar, cheery voice calls. It's slightly muffled, but Midoriya immediately knows
that Nedzu is on the other side.
Aizawa holds the door open for them again, and the three students step into the office. The first
thing Midoriya notes is the large, floor-to-ceiling window that takes up most of the far wall. It
offers an amazing view of the whole campus, and if he strains, Midoriya can just barely see the
dome of the USJ. The second thing he notices is the wide, tall-backed office chair that's
conveniently turned around.
"Please, have a seat, you three!" Nedzu says. "Would you like some tea?"
Noburo is the first to sit down, though she does so reluctantly. "No thank you, sir. I'm more a
coffee person." Oto and Midoriya sit down next, both denying the offer for tea.
"Ah, that's a shame," Nedzu says, spinning the chair around. Midoriya has to bite back a chuckle at
his friends' surprised gasps. "Tea is often fuel for good discussion."
"... You're a mouse," Oto says, shock clear on his face.
"Perhaps, though science really hasn't been able to get a clear answer yet," Nedzu replies good-
naturedly, gesturing to Oto with his steaming cup of tea. "Am I a mouse, a bear, or a dog? One
must decide for themself!"
"Sir, could we please move things along? I'd like to actually teach them something today," Aizawa
says, leaning comfortably against the wall.
"Yes, yes, of course. I'm just giving them some time to get used to my rather odd appearance is
all!" Nedzu takes a sip of tea. "Now, down to business." Midoriya instinctively straightens his
back. "I will be blunt with you three. This year, UA has had the worst batch of students in its
history. Everything from poor scores on the written exam to students attacking others in the
practical, we just haven't been able to get a full class of children who are up to our standards."
"Does that include us?" Midoriya can't help but blurt out. He immediately goes red at the knowing
look Nedzu gives him, and the way Oto and Noburo both say 'Really?' at the same time in the
exact same tone of voice.
"Fortunately, no!" Nedzu cheerfully answers. "You three have remarkable potential as heroes, and
UA will be happy to continue teaching you. The only issue is your class size."
"There's never been a hero class this small, ever." Aizawa picks up where Nedzu left off. "UA has
had small classes in the past, but they all had at least ten kids. With three… well, we just don't
have a precedent for it."
"So you three will have to forge a path for future situations like this—not that we ever plan on
getting rid of so many students!" Nedzu chuckles to himself. "Now, Mr. Aizawa will ask you three
a couple of questions, and I will take notes. By third period, I should have an idea of how your
schedules will be!"
Aizawa casually sits down on a nearby couch, and the three students rearrange their seats so they
can see him better. With the click of Nedzu's pen, he gets started with the questions.
"First things first, what training do you three do outside of class?"
"Uh, I jog a lot. Sometimes I do yoga, but only if I'm really sore," Oto speaks up first, tapping his
chin.
"I run every morning and lift weights three times a week," Noburo goes next. "I also used to do
freerunning."
"Uh, I um, well, you see," Midoriya babbles, tugging on his collar as he starts to sweat through his
button-down.
"Midoriya does weight training six days a week and participates in cardio endurance training every
day. He's also on a meal plan and receives Quirk training from an acquaintance of mine." Nedzu's
words stun the room into silence.
Everyone seems to have a slightly different reaction. Noburo looks like she just figured out the
secrets of the universe, Oto has to close his jaw with his hand, Nedzu looks way too pleased with
the situation, and Eraserhead looks half impressed and half unsure. He even looks back to Nedzu
for confirmation.
"Next question, please!" Nedzu asks, not answering Aizawa's silent question. He looks all too
pleased for a man (was it man or rat? Eraserhead called him a rat, so Midoriya would go with that)
who just created more confusion by replying to a single question. Though based on how All Might
and Gran talked about him, Midoriya could see how Nedzu would be pleased with that.
"... Do any of you have any out-of-school obligations barring workout routines and religious
activities?" Aizawa continues reluctantly.
Time goes by quickly after that. Most of the questions are simple yes or no's, though there is one
about interest in making support items that makes Midoriya's head run a hundred miles an hour,
because why else would they ask that if they weren't considering allowing them to work on their
own gear, which would be so cool.
By the time the second period bell rings, Aizawa is done asking questions and Nedzu is done
taking notes. The principal promises to have their schedule figured out in three to five business
hours, which no one even pretends to understand, and Aizawa leads them back to class 1-A, which
is missing its usual second period occupant of Ectoplasm.
There are only three desks now, arranged in a semicircle around the front podium. Aizawa steps
behind said podium and leans on the ledge. Oto, Noburo, and Midoriya all sit in their seats. Well,
Oto and Midoriya do; Noburo just perches on her desk, and no one bothers with stopping her.
"You won't be having normal classes today," Aizawa starts, glancing down between his arms, "but
we still need to be productive. I'll be teaching all of you some basic Quirkless hand-to-hand
combat. However, I simply have to ask. Midoriya.” The student in question fidgets in his seat.
"How and why do you have a full on training regimen outside of school? It's not a bad thing; it's
just odd."
Midoriya taps his foot as he tries to figure out how to put everything. He can't tell the truth, but he
also doesn't want to lie. "Uh, well, my Quirk is kinda weird, and—"
"How?" Noburo interrupts. "Sorry, it's just… you've got a basic strength enhancer with a flight
ability, right?"
"Uh, not exactly," Midoriya corrects, "it's called Superpower, and uh, it basically gives me a
massive amount of energy to enhance my body with. I can also radiate it outwards to suspend
myself and fly."
"How massive?" Aizawa asks.
"Massive enough that I can't use one hundred percent of the power without breaking my body,"
Midoriya answers.
Aizawa sighs. "Forgive me, but that's a little far-fetched."
"You can ask Recovery Girl!" Midoriya defends. "A hero found me on a beach after I got it, and I
had three broken limbs. She healed me right here in UA!"
Aizawa wordlessly pulls his phone out of his pocket and dials a number. The receiver picks up on
the second ring, and Aizawa speaks, "Hi, this is Eraser." Midoriya can hear the unintelligible yet
still particular tone of Recovery Girl on the other end of the line. “Yes, I work here, no, my diet is
fine. I'm calling to ask you about a student… no, not a single one's dead… his name's Midoriya…
what do you mean by 'oh, him'?" Aizawa's voice takes on an incredulous tone. "So you did heal
him when he got his Quirk. How bad was it… you're going to need to repeat that… in ten places?
You've gotta be shitting me… no, I don't need to see an X-ray, thanks… I make no promises."
After he hangs up the phone, Aizawa looks tired. More tired than usual, anyway. "Okay, next
question. Who's the hero that's training you, and are they the same one that found you on the
beach?"
"Gran Torino isn't the one that found me on the beach," Midoriya says nervously. Aizawa's
expression is hard to read, but at the very least it seems annoyed.
"Then who did?"
Midoriya suddenly gains a slight blush. "All Might," he mumbles. He barely hears Aizawa mutter
something about problem children before Noburo gets up from her desk, marches over to
Midoriya's, and looks him dead in the eye.
"The Symbol of Peace saw you with three broken limbs then carried you to UA?" she asks calmly.
"Yes?" Midoriya squeaks.
Noburo nods, her expression turning more eager. "That's pretty cool. Did you get an autograph?"
"I'm sorry, but did we just hear the same conversation?" Oto interjects. "Because I don't think we
did. Midoriya, top of the class, can break his arms at any moment, and has already been hurt badly
because of his own Quirk."
"I know, but you've seen him fight, he totally kicks ass," Noburo counters, "I think we can leave
the part about arm breaking on the back burner for now, because he probably has an All Might
autograph, and I wanna see it. Can I?" Her gaze is intense and fierce, the kind that shows she won't
take no for an answer.
"I, uh, well—"
"Noburo, lay off. Interrogate on your own time, not mine," Aizawa reprimands, not unkindly.
Noburo mutters a reluctant whatever before going back to her spot on her desk.
"Now that we're all settled in," Aizawa continues, "we’ll be going to Gym Eta. Go get changed into
your gym uniforms and meet me there."
[x]
Hand-to-hand training is really fun. For Midoriya it is, anyway. Oto can't quite get the hang of it
fast enough, and Noburo can't keep herself from instinctively using or trying to use her Quirk.
Aizawa has to use his Quirk to make sure no one's impaled when they spar, which is nice of him,
even if he complains about dry eye a lot.
It's nice to fight someone who isn't Gran or All Might. Midoriya's private teachers both have
distinct, unique styles that, while hard to fight against, get repetitive with frequent sparring.
Midoriya wins the most bouts. Aizawa says that it's not surprising, since he has way more combat
experience than Oto and Noburo combined, even if he's used his Quirk during all of it.
That's not to say that he’s perfect, or even good, at what Aizawa teaches them. Without One for
All, Midoriya's strikes aren't nearly as fast, and he can't rely on the maneuverability that Full Cowl
gives him. Mr. Aizawa puts him on his back every time they spar.
But Midoriya's learning, so it's just fine with him.

Later, when they eat lunch, Noburo demands to see Midoriya's All Might autograph. She and Oto
are absolutely delighted to see that he has it laminated and in his wallet at all times.
[x]
1-A daily schedule.
Period One (7:30-8:00): Homeroom.
Period Two (8:00-12:00): 'Civilian' Classes (Math, English, History, Modern Literature, etc.).
Lunch (12:00-12:30)
Period Three (12:35-3:45): Heroics 101.
Midoriya looks up from his copy of the new schedule. "Four hours for regular classes and three for
heroics? How will that work?"
Aizawa looks up from his notes. "Essentially, you'll be given all of your regular classwork at the
start of the week. You'll be allowed to do it at whatever pace as long as you turn it in before lunch
on Friday." Midoriya nods in understanding. "Also, Heroics 101 is a completely new class.
According to the principal, it's a blend of Support, Business and Marketing, your old Foundational
Heroics class, Quirk Studies, and Hero Law."
"That's… a lot," Oto says, looking a little nervous.
"Yes, it is. But the principal and I wouldn't have agreed on a schedule we didn't think you were
ready for," Aizawa says. "You'll be fine. Work hard and demonstrate your Plus Ultra spirit."
"Sir," Noburo asks, "what about the Sports Festival?"
Aizawa blinks, "Oh. That. You'll be participants, obviously. Since it's in two weeks, I should
probably tell you three to put in some work outside of school. But since you now have three hours
of dedicated hero practice every day instead of the usual hour and a half, well, I can't blame you for
not feeling the need."
"But I thought you said we'd be doing business and support stuff too, not just hero course stuff?"
Oto asks.
"You'll spend at least an hour and a half doing combat training for the next two weeks, mostly so
you can put a better show on at the Festival." Aizawa answers, "If I'm being honest, the support
and business stuff will come into play after the Sports Festival."
Oto nods, and Aizawa looks his three students over for a moment. "Any other questions?"
Everyone shakes their head no. "Alright then.” He reaches under the table of his podium and tosses
each of them a packet of paper. "Mic will be here in a half hour to answer any questions you have
about the English stuff. I'd suggest working on that first. Also, don't disturb my nap." Aizawa curls
up in his yellow sleeping bag and collapses on the floor.
Midoriya immediately opens his packet of school work and skims the entire thing, noting that the
math is mostly review, history is still focused on heroics, and English is mostly new adjectives.
"Boys," Noburo says, thumbing through her own packet, "Aizawa said we could do whatever just
as long as we turn it in on time, right?"
"... Yeah?" Oto replies. "Where are you going with this?"
"I'm not going anywhere, but the three of us definitely are." The cocky smirk she usually reserves
for combat training slips into her face.
"Yeah, I still don't follow." Oto pulls out a pencil and opens to page one. "Let's just get to work
until Present Mic gets here."
"You're an idiot," Noburo deadpans.
"Takes one to know one, thank you very much," Oto bites back.
"I'm just gonna spell it out for you. This is UA. They like it when we think outside the box.
Therefore, we should all work together on this stuff," Noburo explains.
"Even UA has rules against sharing answers," Oto argues, "and they also value individuality."
"But we don't have to share answers to work together," Midoriya speaks up. "We could do every
problem one by one, working together. It'd be easier for us, even if it's more consuming. And we
won't be copying answers either!"
Oto considers for a moment. "Alright, push the desk together. If we get in trouble, I'm shoving all
the blame on you two."
"Of course you would," Noburo chuckles, "but I'm definitely not gonna let you weasel out of
detention."
The three students get to work after that, quickly getting through the English portion before Present
Mic arrives. And if they occasionally joke more than they work, no one cares to stop them. Even if
a single bloodshot eye cracks open to watch occasionally.
[x]
"Oto… Oto! OTO!"
Kenji flinches out of his stupor and activates his Quirk in time to burn up an incoming projectile.
To his left, Midoriya skids to a halt, kicking up dust.
"Are you okay? You almost got hit!" Midoriya asks. He looks a little worried but not at all pitying,
which is nice.
Kenji tries for a smile, but he can tell right away that it's shaky and weak. "Yeah, I'm okay. Just…
can't get Mr Yamada's English lesson out of my head is all!" Kenji hates lying to his friends. He
hates it even more when they believe his lies.
Midoriya laughs,."Yeah, I don't think he understands that we don't need songs to remember
different idioms. Not that Noburo will let us explain that to him…"
Kenji chuckles, and first the first time in two days, it's genuine. "Yeah, Noburo's… something."
"I heard that!" Noburo yells from behind them, focusing on the exercise while her two friends chat.
"You might wanna get back to work before Aizawa forces you to!"
She makes a good argument, Kenji thinks. While Aizawa has somewhat softened, he's still a slave
driver when it comes to training, so Kenji returns to the task at hand: Dodgeball.
It's not actually Dodgeball. Dodgeball implies that they're dodging balls, when, in reality, they're
trying not to die.
Kenji barely ducks under a ball, shivering at the feeling of it grazing his hair. He's already been
nailed by fifteen of them. Each one hurt like hell because they were hard rubber shot out of
compressed air cannons. Apparently the motto 'Plus Ultra' applies to pain as well as schoolwork.
While Kenji and Noburo crawl along the ground to dodge Aizawa's balls of doom (which is just an
awful name now that he thinks about it), Midoriya gets to fly overhead, which just feels unfair.
Kenji seriously thinks that he hasn't been hit once while even Noburo has gotten hit at least five
times.
By the time dodgeball is over, Kenji is exhausted. He's bruised all over, breathing heavy, and has
sweat completely through his tank top. Noburo and Midoriya, however, look near peachy. They
smile and pat Kenji on the back as they go to get changed, which makes him feel worse.
See, Kenji is not an idiot. He knows he's at the bottom of the class. Academically and physically,
he just can't compare to his friends. While he barely scrapes by every lesson, they breeze through,
Midoriya especially. Kenji's green-haired friend has enough motivation and drive to grow to do
extra practice outside of school every day.
Kenji respects that. Really, he does. But he knows that he doesn't have that same drive. He looks at
his two friends and sees great heroes of the future. Then he looks in the mirror and sees a mediocre
public servant who'll never amount to much in the hero sector of society.
His friends always deny it when Kenji voices his opinion on their skill levels. They always claim
that he'll catch up, or that maybe direct combat isn't his thing. Midoriya never seems to be lying
when he says that stuff, which is worse than Noburo's hesitant agreement with the shorter boy's
words.
Kenji wants to help people, but there's more than one way to do that. Right now, he's probably
doing more harm than good by holding back future top-tier pros. That's why when school's over for
the day, Kenji holds back in class 1-A. Midoriya bids him a happy goodbye while Noburo looks a
little suspicious. Kenji can't blame her.
"You know you can leave now, right?" Aizawa says. Kenji can tell his teacher has an idea of
what's about to happen.
"I'd like to talk to you about switching courses."
Aizawa sighs. "Kid, I know you know you're not the best. But you've got heart, and, if I'm being
honest, the right personality for a pro. Why do you want to switch?"
"I'm holding them back. I can't… it's not right of me to impede their progress."
"I can't stop you," Aizawa says, "but I will strongly recommend that you don't do this."
"Please," Kenji asks, "just let me do this. It's what I want."
His teacher gives him a long look. It's the first time Kenji thinks that he can tell what his teacher is
feeling. Disappointment.
"Alright. Let's go see Nedzu."
Graduating from U.A is a great stepping stone in a lot of career paths. If he's lucky, Kenji just
might turn out to be a hero. Just one that doesn't wear spandex.
[x]
Wednesday. Five days until the Sports Festival. Midoriya's the first one to class like usual. He sits
down in his seat and pulls out his notebook. There was a villain attack on the news that morning
that he just barely caught the end of, and the hero that took down the villain was a new one.
He gets halfway through the page when Noburo walks in. She gives him a short greeting then sits
down in her seat and props her feet up on Midoriya's desk in such a way that they don't impede his
writing like usual. It used to make him flush down to his toes and sputter nonsense, but he's gotten
used to it by now. Legs are just lower arms, after all.
A couple minutes later, the bell rings. Noburo and Midoriya lock eyes, the same question on their
minds. Then Aizawa's sleeping bag flops down just outside the door. "Oto won't be joining us any
more." Aizawa sounds very tired like usual, though the bags under his eyes are much larger and are
a shade darker.
"You didn't expel him, right?" Noburo asks, her voice slightly confrontational.
"No. He has… had potential." Aizawa gets out of his bag and stands. He leans against the door
frame. "I know you two want to ask, but it's not my place to tell. Ask him during lunch or after
school."
Lunch can't come quickly enough, but when it does Midoriya and Noburo don't even bother getting
food. They comb the entire cafeteria and find Oto sitting in the corner. Alone.
He whines when he sees them. Midoriya can tell he wants to talk first, but Noburo doesn't let him.
"What the hell, man?! Why did you dump us?"
"Hey, guys..." Oto says softly. "Fancy seeing you here, huh?"
"Don't sass me! We deserve an explanation!"
"Noburo, calm down." Midoriya rests a hand on her shoulder. "He needs some space."
Noburo huffs but stays silent. Eventually, Oto speaks.
"I'm not cut out for this," he starts, "and before you say I am, just let me explain. I've wanted to
help people all my life. I didn't care if that meant working in a nursing home or being a hero. But
when my Quirk came in, it was obvious." Oto takes a deep breath. "I was sure this was right for me
until I got expelled. That day, I realized that I'd have to work harder than hard, which I told myself
I could do. Then, the others got kicked out, and it was just us three.
"Midoriya, you workout and train for, like, ten hours every day. Noburo, you've got natural talent
and enough drive to keep up with Midoriya through sheer grit. I don't have anything like that."
"But you do!" Midoriya cries.
"No, I don't," Oto says firmly. "I want to help people. Heroics just seemed like the best way to do
it. But now… I just don't think I could ever measure up to you guys. Or any hero, for that matter."
"So you're quitting?" Noburo leans on the table. Her voice has an edge to it. "This is it? Goodbye?
Sayonara? You're leaving just because you can't keep up? That's the weakest excuse I've ever
heard."
"It's not just that, okay?!" Oto yells back. "You two are going to be amazing heroes, but if I stick
with you, I'll just slow you down!"
"Oh, so this is a 'it's not you, it's me' thing?" Noburo accuses.
"Yes," Oto agrees. "I've been transferred to business. I plan on helping pros out, or maybe even
doing advertising for charities and fundraisers. I'll still be helping people, just in my own way."
Noburo looks at him for a long while. Then she huffs and storms off, presumably to get lunch.
"Oto..." Midoriya says.
"Yeah, I messed that up."
"No, it's just… I think you would have been a great hero." Midoriya sits down across from him.
"Maybe I could've been. But I don't want to be at the cost of slowing you two down."
"Do you really want this?"
"Yes," Oto answers immediately. Midoriya can tell by the look in his eyes that he's serious.
"Okay," Midoriya gets up. "When I open my agency, I'll make sure you're my first business
manager."
Oto smiles. "Yeah, I'd like that."
[x]
Bonus! Midoriya's Quirk Files.
Subject: Noburo Mai
Quirk: Stomach Spikes
Desc: She can generate spikes of metal from her stomach. The spikes literally grow out over her
organ and have to push through the other parts of the body to extend outwards, impeding her bodily
functions. The strength of the spikes depends on her diet, and their size cannot exceed the diameter
of her stomach.
Notes: A good all-around Quirk for a combative hero, Stomach Spikes is mostly used for direct
assault and maneuvering. The spikes can be blunted, allowing for safer attacks.
Rank without the user's skill: B
Rank with the user's skill: B+
Chapter End Notes
Golly gee I crammed a lot into this one. I feel like a bajillion things happen but it's also
really boring, therefore I don't like this one. Unfortunately, it's mostly not filliar so you
had to read it.
Also, I'm sorry if you're not happy with how I handled the rest of the expulsions, but I
couldn't figure out something expulsion worthy a bunch of teenagers would do in front
of Aizawa. I do know that dumb teenagers drink when they shouldn't, even if getting
caught will end their careers, so I went with that.
I'm not happy with how I handled the Oto/Midoriya/Noburo friendship. It needed
more buildup, a lot more buildup, but I want to get to the Sports Festival and the
Kacchan and Deku chapter soon.
Speaking of the Sports Festival, it's coming! Just one more chapter between this and
the opening event, but it'll be a short one. Just a quick moment to relax.
Anyways, thanks for reading and cheers!

A Day Off
Chapter Notes
From: Noburo
hey. u free to hangout?
The notification lights up his phone, distracting Midoriya from his book. He immediately knows
who it is without looking at the sender tag. It's a small blessing that comes with only having four
numbers in his phone.
To: Noburo
Maybe. Why?
From: Noburo
im bored and my dad won't let me practice anymore
To: Noburo
Let me ask my mom.
"Hey, Mom?" Midoriya calls from the couch to the kitchen. His mother, who's looking over bills at
the table, pauses.
"What is it, honey?"
"Can I go out with a friend?"
"Sure, sweetie. What's their name?"
"It's Noburo. You know, the girl from school?"
”Oh?" His mother's voice raises a tone. "Is it like that? You know, if you're going on a date, you
can just tell me. I won't embarrass you, I promise!"
"No!" Midoriya says a little too quickly. "Er, no. It's not like that. We're just friends. Can I go?"
"Sure. Just be safe and stay in the city." She gets up from the table and walks over to the living
room. "Also, I know it's Saturday, but you have the Sports Festival next week, so don't stay out too
late!"
Midoriya looks up at his mom and smiles softly. "Yeah I know."
To: Noburo
I can go. What are we going to do and where do you want to meet?
From: Noburo
i dunno walk around town and see? Meet outside ua
To: Noburo
What time?
From: Noburo
can you be there in 20?
To: Noburo
I can be there in a half hour.
From: Noburo
cool see u there
Shutting off his phone, Midoriya gets up from the couch and hurries to his room. A green bathrobe
and a pair of flannel pants wouldn't do for a walk around town, so he quickly changes.
Five minutes later, he walks out of the building in a pair of blue jeans, an old zip-up hoodie, and a
t-shirt that reads shoes across the front. His usual red high tops fit snugly around his feet. He takes
the usual route to U.A and gets there a whole five minutes early.
Noburo is already there, leaning against a light post with her hands in the pockets of a studded
leather jacket. "Hey, man," she says, walking over to Midoriya, a set of dog tags jingling around
her neck. From the way her mouth moves, it's obvious that she's chewing gum. "What's up?"
"Nothing," Midoriya answers, awkwardly shuffling his feet. "Just… trying to relax before the
festival."
Noburo snorts. "Yeah, same." She blows a bubble and lets it pop. "I've probably been spending
hours every night this week exercising in my basement." Midoriya just now notices the bags under
her eyes and the slight droop of her shoulders.
"You look—"
"I look like shit, I know." She shrugs. "My dad kicked me out of the house so I can't practice,
which is dumb because I have a gym membership."
"You shouldn't overwork yourself," Midoriya says.
"You're not much better-looking than me," she argues back. Midoriya knows she has a point. His
mom's been worried about how much time he's spending out of the house for a while now.
"Whatever. There's an arcade like two kilometers from here. Wanna go unwind? We can have fun
while I kick your ass at DDR."
"I thought you didn't know what you wanted to do?"
"I saw it on the way here. C'mon, I'll race you." She gives him a playful punch to the chest.
"... Race me?" Midoriya asks. How can they have a race on a sidewalk?
"Yeah, a race. See who gets there faster." Noburo stretches her arms out, and Midoriya looks away
from how her t-shirt rides up on her midriff.
"But you already know the way there," Midoriya points out.
"That's the fun part," she claims, "I get to decide how we get there."
Midoriya nods. "Alright," he says, not seeing the harm, "when do we st—"
"Now!" Noburo takes off. Midoriya follows a half second later.
Two kilometers shouldn't be a bad run. Midoriya is in very good shape for his age and runs a 5K
every morning, but Noburo doesn't like to stay on the sidewalks, or even the streets. At the first
opportunity she gets, she climbs up a fire escape, not even bothering with the stairs. She could've
easily fallen four stories.
Of course, the fact that Midoriya does the same without a second thought doesn't make him any
better.
Noburo leads him to all sorts of weird platforms. Balconies, rooftops, and even a skywalk are all
relegated to a racetrack of rather dangerous proportions. And Midoriya loves every second of it.
He feels the familiar feral smile creep up on his face and has to push against Float to keep it from
activating. Up ahead, Noburo whoops as she clears a wide gap between a pair of office buildings.
She hits the ground rolling and finally stops. Midoriya does the same.
They're both breathing heavy now, and are slightly sweaty, too. Midoriya raises his arms and rests
his hands on the back of his head, slowing his breathing to regain a resting heart rate. He feels
Noburo's eyes on him and turns to look.
"You look weird without a uniform or a costume on," she says, sitting down on the hard concrete
of the roof. Midoriya must've looked offended because she quickly adds, "It's not a bad thing. Just
different."
Midoriya nods, sitting down a couple feet away from her. "Yeah, I guess I think the same about
you." He often feels the same way about All Might on the rare occasions his mentor is buffed up
and in regular street clothes. "Um… you said something about an arcade?" he asks after a while.
"That I did." Noburo stands and dusts off her jeans. "It's actually across the street from this
building. We just have to get down."
Midoriya blinks. "How will we get down without our Quirks?"
"Good question." Noburo smirks as she walks over to the edge of the roof. "Hey, watch this," she
says, casually stepping off the building.
"Noburo!" Midoriya rushes over to look down. There, maybe five feet under him, is Noburo, her
regular cocky smirk right at home on her face as she hands one-handed from a windowsill.
"It's nice to see that you care." She lets herself drop to the next ledge, which makes Midoriya
wince. "Oh, c'mon, you know I'm good at this stuff. Besides, you'll catch me if I fall."
"Yeah, but you can't just jump off buildings! What if I can't catch you?" Midoriya totally doesn't
notice how his voice takes on a similar tone as his mother, nope, not at all.
Noburo raises an eyebrow. "Yeah, okay, you who can get a sub-four second fifty meter dash would
fail to catch me, who's barely three away." She takes one hand off the ledge and scratches the side
of her nose. "I'm fine. Now let's get across the street. Hopefully the place sells drinks ‘cause I need
one."
She climbs down quickly after that, with Midoriya going after, though at a much slower pace. It's
weird doing dangerous stuff like that without One for All activated. Maybe that's something he
should try to learn after the Sports Festival and the internships. Quirkless maneuvering could come
in handy down the line.
After crossing the street and entering the building, Noburo makes right for a nearby vending
machine. Midoriya, half looking at all the blinking lights and half trying to not accidentally bump
into anyone, does the same. They buy a bottle of water each and down them quickly.
"Alright." Noburo crushes the bottle between her hands. "We're doing DDR first. Expect to be
utterly defeated because this was my life for five years."
"Oh, uh, okay," Midoriya says, not quite sure what to do. "I've actually never played, so—"
"Stop right there," Noburo orders. "You've never played Dance Dance Revolution?" Midoriya
shakes his head. "Okay. I mean, it's totally not okay that you've missed out on the second-best
game of all time, but there's one over there"—she points over to a machine composed of a raised
platform and large screen—"so I can correct that major character flaw you have."
"Oh...kay?" Midoriya says dumbly. Noburo only grabs him tightly by the arm and drags him over
to the machine. It's currently occupied by a girl with pink skin and a head of fluffy pink hair. Even
Midoriya, who knows nothing about the game, can clearly tell that she's doing well. The screen
displays the word perfect every time she steps on the ground in time with the music.
Eventually the level ends and the girl goes to pick a second song, but Noburo speaks up, "Hey, can
we have the next game?"
The girl turns around and looks at them for a second. Her black and gold eyes are a little unsettling
but also interesting. Does she have a plain mutation or are her eyes enhanced? "I dunno, can you?"
the girl replies, an easy smile on her lips. She leans on the rail of the platform. "I just got here.
Shouldn't I get in another song or two before I'm kicked off?"
"This guy"—Noburo pats Midoriya on the shoulder—"has never played DDR. Ever."
The girl's eyes widen. "Wait, really?" She looks at Midoriya, who nods. "Then be my guest. I'll be
waiting to take the game after yours, though!"
"That's fine," Noburo agrees. "C'mon, you saw how she played, just step on the ground in the same
order as the arrows appear on screen," she explains as she drags Midoriya up on the platform. "I'll
go easy on you the fir—"
"Don't go easy on me," Midoriya interrupts. "Sorry, I just… do you want this to be boring for
you?"
Noburo thinks for a second. "No, I guess not." She reaches down and slips a couple coins into the
slot. "I'll pick a hardish song I guess. Something you'll probably fail at so the girl behind us can
have a good laugh." She quickly navigates the menu, which rapidly changes colors as she taps the
arrows on the platform with her feet. Eventually she settles on a song and hits start.
Noburo gives him a quick look, complete with a friendly smirk. "Good luck. You'll need it."
Midoriya doesn't get a chance to reply before the first arrows start to scroll up on the screen. They
start slowly, and he misses the first few, but he quickly finds a rhythm. Then the tempo starts to
speed up. For a second, Midoriya thinks that he just might embarrass himself. Then he realizes it's
all timing and footwork, stuff he's been drilled in for the past four months.
Left, up, right, right, left, down, up and down, left and right, up, down, left, right and up. It's
similar to dealing with Gran when he's bouncing around the room, though much less painful when
he fails (though the way the screen lights up with the red character for miss everytime he does isn't
any fun).
The song eventually ends, and neither Noburo or Midoriya are breathing particularly hard.
Stamping on the ground is nothing compared to combat training, after all. Midoriya's score is
actually pretty close to Noburo's, something which seems to annoy her, though she brushes it off as
the step away from the platform.
"Are you sure that was your first time playing? Because I think you might be bullshiting me,"
Noburo accuses good-naturedly.
"No! I'm not a liar," Midoriya defends. "It's just… easy to apply what I've learned from my teachers
to it. I get drilled hard on footwork pretty often. That and reflexes."
Noburo makes a hum of agreement. "I suppose being top of the class at UA would make you good
at a lot of things."
"Woah, you guys go to UA?" the pink skinned girl exclaims. She's already reclaimed her spot on
the game, though she looks ready to hop back off at any second. "I plan on applying next year! I
can't wait to see you guys at the Sports Festival! You're first years, right?"
Midoriya feels his face heat up. "I, uh, well, we, I—"
"Yeah, we're first years. Mido here is top of the class, though I'm a close second," Noburo cuts off
his muttering. "He's a little shy, though, so we'll be going now."
"Oh, alright!" The girl looks a little bummed but accepts Noburo's words easily. "Have fun and
good luck at the festival!"
"I forget that being UA students means we're kind of a big deal," Noburo says as she guides a still
red-faced Midoriya to a table in the arcade's food court. "I'm not sure how I forgot, considering I've
wanted to go there since I was five."
"Yeah," Midoriya agrees, sitting down. "I can't believe we might've just met one of our future
underclassmen."
Noburo snorts. "You might be getting ahead of yourself. Not every kid you meet that wants into
UA will get there."
"Yeah, but she seemed nice enough. Maybe she'll make it in." Midoriya smiles at the thought. "We
can only really know next year."
"Yeah, we," Noburo says, her voice steeped with melancholy. She shakes off her sad expression.
"I'm surprised you're not still gushing about being treated like a star." She leans back and hooks an
arm around the back of her chair. "Though, considering what's happening Monday, that's probably
a good thing."
"Oh god, it's only gonna get worse after the festival. I'm not ready to be recognized in public, I'll
embarrass myself!" Midoriya forgets about how his friend looks just a second later, caught up in
his worries for the future.
"You'll be fine," Noburo disagrees. "You're a total hero nerd—just think of what you would want a
hero to say if you came up and talked to them."
"I'm still not sure…"
"Midoriya." Noburo grabs his arm, which was resting on the table and had started to shake.
"You're top of the class at the best hero school in the country. You've gotten training from multiple
Pro Heroes. Have some confidence in yourself."
Midoriya nods. "Okay. I'll try."
"That's not good enough," Noburo says, "do or do not—there is no try."
Midoriya blinks. "Was that…"
"No one will ever believe you," Noburo says, deathly serious. "Now, have you ever played Mortal
Kombat?"
As it turns out, Midoriya is bad at almost every video game there is. Noburo is a little shocked at
the fact because apparently, since he's a hero nerd, he should be a videogame nerd as well.
Midoriya doesn't have the heart to tell her that his only videogame experience came from watching
walkthroughs of old RPGs and that one time he had a free trial of All Might's World of Smash
single-player mode.
It takes a whole hour, but eventually Noburo does get bored of beating Midoriya at everything they
try. If he's being honest, Midoriya would have been content to play games all night, but he agreed
to leave with his friend when the clock hit 9:30. But that doesn't mean they have to go home. In
fact, Noburo is pretty insistent that they stay out for a bit longer. Midoriya complies and even
suggests where they should go next. Dagobah beach.
They run there again, with Midoriya in the lead this time as they scamper up buildings and hop off
of railings. The feeling of adrenaline coursing through his veins is enough for Midoriya to
understand why Noburo used to do stuff like this regularly. It almost feels as good as using Full
Cowling. Almost.
They make it to Dagobah at a quarter after ten, sweating and relishing the feel of the cool breeze
that blows out to sea. Noburo even kicks off her boots and rolls up her jeans to wade calf-deep into
the waves. Midoriya settles for watching the water crash up against the beach.
"I remember when this place was a dump," Noburo says, looking out to sea.
A couple feet away, Midoriya spies an empty soda can. "Yeah, it's so nice now. But there's already
trash here again." He lets a little bitterness seep into his tone as he picks up the can. "It took a lot of
work to clean this place up. Don't people realize that?"
Noburo laughs. "You say that like you cleaned it yourself."
Midoriya cracks a smile. "Yeah, I do."
They stand like that for a while, Midoriya eventually joining Noburo to stand in the water. It's nice.
Seabirds fly overhead, calling out to the sky as they circle. Bits of seaweed and shells occasionally
wash up, decorating the already beautiful sand.
"You know, my family doesn't like that I'm trying to be a hero," Noburo says after a while.
"Why not?" Midoriya asks, the whole concept foreign to him.
"My great grandma was a pro. It was back before All Might, so she must've been tough as nails to
be one." Noburo looks over her shoulder at Midoriya. She'd shrugged off her jacket to better feel
the air. "Heroes weren't safe back then, you know. Their real names and addresses were often
easily accessible by villains. And that's what happened to her."
Midoriya flinches at the thought. If someone learned about where his mom lived after he
graduated…
"Yeah, you get the picture," Noburo says bitterly. "Some C-list murderer wanted revenge on her
for locking up her brother, so she attacked one night. Only my granddad, who was five at the time,
survived."
"I'm sorry…" Midoriya starts.
"Don't apologize. It happened before your mom was born, probably." Noburo sighs, "Sixty years
past, and that side of my family still refuses to let anyone dream to be a pro."
"But you're in UA now," Midoriya tries to cheer her up, walking closer. "You can prove them
wrong. You'll graduate with your license and show them that being a hero is worth the risk."
"Graduate from UA, huh." Noburo smiles weakly. "Yeah, I don't think I can do that anymore."
"What do you mean?" Midoriya asks worriedly.
"My grandpa, the one who survived the villain attack... he died last night. And don't you say you're
sorry—he didn't like me, and I didn't like him," she cuts off Midoriya's apology before it can
begin. "But my grandma, his wife, is still alive. And since she has dementia, someone has to take
care of her. The only one that can is my dad. We're moving to the Philippines as soon as possible."
"Oh," Midoriya says, unsure of how to react. "Could you stay here with your mom?" he tries.
"My mom's not in the picture," Noburo says sadly. "I've managed to get my dad to put everything
off for a couple weeks, so I can do the internship after the festival. But after that…"
"You're not giving up, right?"
"Ha, hell no. I've already looked into hero schools where I'll be living," Noburo says, regaining a
little bit of her usual confidence. "I'm not gonna let anything stop me from being a hero. And I fully
intend to move back to Japan after I graduate from whatever school I find down there."
"So it'll just be me in class then," Midoriya says, a little awed by the thought.
"It should be just you and Oto, but he's an idiot," Noburo mutters. "I'll never understand quitters."
"I won't either," Midoriya agrees, "but he has the right to choose his path, just like you and me."
"Whatever." Noburo checks her phone. "Ugh, I gotta get back soon. Walk to UA with me?"
"Sure."
They go back to school the normal way, talking about old, pre-All Might heroes. They eventually
end up under the same light post they met at, and just when they're about to part ways, Midoriya
says, "I'll miss you when you're gone. It'll be lonely being the only one in 1-A."
"Y-yeah." Is it just him, or are Noburo's cheeks just a touch darker than usual? "I'll miss you too,
Midoriya."
Chapter End Notes

My readers. My poor, poor readers. Some of you actually thought I'd just kill off or
cripple a character before we even got to chapter 25. I'm not that cruel to my own
creations, and I don't plan on killing people off just because I have no use for them.
Noburo may return at a later date, but after the Sports Festival, she's gone. Enjoy her
while she lasts, if you even enjoy her, that is.
Anyways, this is mostly filler. I just wanted a nice day off and a bonding moment
between our two hero students. Next one will have the opening ceremony and
probably the first event. Also some Dadmight because I'm a sucker for it.

Show the World That You Are Here pt. 1
Chapter Notes
Happy New Year everyone. I actually got this all done in one day, but postponed
updating because I didn't have time to proofread. But I finished editing, so here you
are! Bear in mind that I did most of the corrections while sleep deprived, but who
cares, it's another chapter.
In for five, hold for five, out for five, pause, repeat. In for five, hold for five, out for five, pause,
repeat.
It's not meditation, or if it is, it's a very simple form of it. But regulating his breathing is a necessity
if he wants to calm his racing heart. Even now, after five minutes of constant concentration, he can
still hear blood roaring in his ears because out there is a stadium filled with hundreds, no,
thousands of people who are eager to watch him. If he strains his hearing, he can pick up the idle
chatter of the people, which is still ridiculously loud.
"Young Midoriya." All Might's voice draws his attention from his breathing. "Relax. You've got
this."
"Y-yeah, I've got this." Midoriya forces a smile on his face. He can feel his hands shaking.
All Might places a heavy, calloused hand on his shoulder. "Remember what we've gone over. This
is your big day, your time to shine. Your debut as a hero in training." He squeezes his hand. "Show
the world that you are here. I'll be proud of you no matter what."
"You're laying it on a little thick there, Toshi," Gran says from across the room. "He's just in his
first year. Hardly anyone watches the first years."
"Yes, but the Sports Festival will be archived, and people will be able to watch it for years to
come," All Might disagrees. "It's important that he makes a good showing here, no?"
Midoriya swallows heavily at the thought of being archived forever on film. He'd made the news
the day he met All Might, and just that one little blurb he got on the evening news made him a
wreck.
"There's always next year, too," All Might comforts, seeing his nervous expression. "I know you'll
do well today, but next year? You'll do even better."
"A-alright," Midoriya breathes. "If not today, then next time." He'll berate his every move after,
even if he does perfectly, but it's comforting to know he can afford to fail. Not that he wants to.
How would it look when he's graduated and become Number One if he flops his first Sports
Festival?
There's a short, crisp knock on the door. Gran calls for the person to enter, and it swings open.
"Hey, Midoriya," Noburo says, "we're about to form up for the walk on. Aizawa will kill us if
we're late, so hurry it up, yeah?"
"We're actually just finishing," All Might stands, guiding Midoriya up with him. "He needed one
final pep talk, but he's ready now." All Might gives Midoriya a wide smile and a quick thumbs up
before pushing him out the door. "Good luck, my boy! Go beyond, Plus Ultra!"
"Yeah, I didn't train no loser! Go out there and strut your stuff!"
The door closes behind them, and Midoriya walks with Noburo through the halls. "That your old
man?" she asks.
Midoriya instantly chokes on his own spit, only saved by Noburo's quick chop to his back. "No,"
he wheezes out.
Noburo nods like she understands. "I get it. He's your step-dad. Don't know how to handle it yet,
huh?" All Midoriya can do is nod. "Well, he seems nice enough. Was that old guy your grandpa?"
"G-Gran?" Midoriya stutters. "No."
Noburo's eyes widen, "Oh, that's Gran Torino. I get why he's here, being your personal trainer and
all, but why's your stepdad here if your mom isn't?"
"A… Yagi is a UA alumnus, so he's able to get free tickets." Midoriya not-quite lies. All Might had
paid full price for his tickets, though he didn't need to. He just preferred to give some money to his
alma mater. "Gran, too. My mom can't afford any tickets worth buying, so she's back home
recording everything in Ultra HD."
"Yeah, my folks can't afford tickets either. Not that they want to." Noburo shrugs. "At least you got
a pep talk out of it. You probably need it for your speech."
"Don't remind me," Midoriya whines as they round the corner into the vomitorium. A massive
crowd of students takes up most of the space. "I nearly had a breakdown rehearsing it."
"Real talk for a second, are you okay?" Noburo asks worriedly. "Cuz I can do the speech instead of
you. Public speaking doesn't get to me."
"No, no," Midoriya insists vehemently. "I've got it all planned out. I just need to psych myself up
for it is all!"
She looks at him for a long moment. "... Alright. You got this."
Midoriya nods. "I got this."
They walk up to the front of the mob. As the only Hero class, they get to enter the field first.
Midoriya notices a couple dirty looks from what are presumably Gen Ed students, but no one tries
to touch or verbally antagonize him or Noburo. For now. Midoriya knows how brutal the U.A
Sports Festival can be, and that the people who were kicked out of 1-A don't plan on being nice.
Noburo and Midoriya stand shoulder-to-shoulder just inside the gateway. The audience must be
able to sense something, or maybe there's a specific time the students are supposed to walk on,
because they suddenly start to make a lot more noise.
"Hello, hello? This thing on?" The crowd goes wild at the sound of Midnight's voice coming
through the massive stadium speakers. "Perfect!" She continues, "Well, since you all probably
know who I am, let's get this started, alright? I'd hate to leave you all on the edge!" The audience
hoots and hollers, eager for the opening ceremony.
"First up are our dutiful referees! Please welcome Power Loader and Aizawa!" The crowd gives a
polite round of applause as the two men walk past the mob of students and out onto the field.
"I didn't even notice them," Noburo mutters.
"Me neither," Midoriya agrees.
"And now, for our glittering stars of the show," Midnight preambles, "they've been working their
bodies so hard these past few months, so give a big warm welcome to our Hero class! Introducing
Midoriya Izuku and Noburo Mai of Class 1-A!"
The two students don't even get a chance to wish themselves luck before they're forced to step out
of the vomitorium and out onto the soft, green grass. As they do, cameras from all over flash, and
the volume of the stadium peaks. But by the time they make it to the large concrete stage in the
center of the field, most people just seem confused. Midoriya tries for an awkward wave, but this
only seems to worsen the audience's reaction.
"There's only two of 'em? What the hell?"
"There's supposed to be, like, forty!"
"Is this a prank? Or are they calling them out two by two?"
"Only two? I want a refund!"
"Settle down, settle down," Midnight chides, "I love your enthusiasm, really, I do. But now's not
the time!" Her voice takes on a more sultry tone. "Please save your frustration for later, but for
now, let's welcome our three General Studies classes! 1-B, 1-C, 1-D, 1-E, 1-F, come on out and
join us!"
Every one of the General Education students walks out, some wide-eyed at the sight of all the
cameras, others with expressions of anger and frustration, probably from being glossed over in
favor of the hero course.
"There's so many..." Midoriya mutters, looking over his shoulder.
"You're telling me, dude." Noburo laughs. "And just think, each and every one of them is planning
on gunning for us right out of the gate."
Midoriya elbows his friend. "Noburo, that's not funny! This thing is already gonna be really hard,
and—"
"We've gone over this, you've got nothing to be worried about. Got it, Mr. Top of the Class?"
Noburo smiles.
"Yeah, but you don't need to—"
"And finally, please cheer on our darling little inventors and designers, the four and only UA
support classes!" Midnight yells into her mic, and the rest of the students who were waiting in the
hall walk out onto the pitch.
Like the General and Hero classes, the Support classes (1-G, 1-H, 1-I, 1-J) are all wearing the
standard U.A gym uniform. Unlike the Hero and General courses, they're all clad in different odds
and ends, ready to show off what they've made in the time they've been at U.A. Truthfully,
Midoriya is most worried about them, rather than the Gen Ed kids. Who knows what kind of stuff
they were allowed to bring in? Nedzu, probably, but that’s the opposite of a comfort.
"Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, please fall silent for the athlete's pledge as presented by
student representative, Midoriya Izuku!"
The mutters start right as he takes the first step up to the stage, all coming from directly behind
him.
"Him? Really?"
"They've gotta be joking. He's tiny."
"It's total bullshit that he's the one representing us. There's only two students in the Hero course.
This isn't representation!"
"He probably paid off the school to do this."
"Oh, definitely. Look at him, he's so plain!"
"Oi, he got top marks on the entrance exam!" Noburo leaps to his defense. "He deserves to be the
rep more than any one of you!"
"Fuck off, Hero Course!"
"Nobody cares!"
"He only got the top score for the Hero entrance exam. What about Support or Gen Ed? I'd bet
actual cash that half the people who applied for those classes got better marks than him!"
"That's enough!" Aizawa's gruff voice cuts through the chatter like a knife. "You are all going to
shut up and listen to the pledge like good students. Then you can all fight it out in the events for all
I care. Midoriya, go."
Midoriya, who's now standing right in front of a tall mic stand, closes his eyes. He runs through his
mental checklist. Keep it short and simple. Make everything an agreeable statement. Speak slowly
and deliberately. Picture everyone as a potato.
He opens his eyes. Thousands stare back at him, and perhaps millions more get a view from the
cameras. One in particular is right in front of his face, and he idly hopes he remembered to floss
after breakfast.
He smiles.
"I pledge to put my best foot forward and to go beyond my limits." Not a bad start, referencing the
school motto had to be good. "I pledge to give my all for the sake of winning"—also good, though
maybe promising to give everything to win wasn't a popular sentiment—"and I pledge to show the
world that I'm worthy of taking up the sacred torch of heroism from the generations previous!"
For an eternity, there’s silence. Then, deafening cheers. The whole stadium seems to shake, and
Midoriya stares up in wonder. They… they’re cheering for him. Or maybe not for him, but for the
start of the festival, but either way, they aren't booing!
Midoriya has to fight back tears as he walks back down the steps of the platform. Noburo gives
him a hearty slap to the back and a proud smile. The Gen Ed students behind them glare and curse,
but do they even matter? Yes, they do, but for that moment all that matters is that he didn't
embarrass himself on national television.
"My, my, what a bold speech… I loved it!" Midnight laughs happily. "Now, without further adieu,
the first event, as determined by the Spinning Wheel of Death!" The sentence sends a wave of
shivers throughout the crowd. Sensing this, Midnight says, "Oh, don't worry. We're a school; safety
is our top priority. Now, spin. That. Wheel!"
Every screen in the stadium, from the massive billboards framing the uppermost levels to the tiny
ones on the tablets that many restaurants use for sales, lights up with the same display: A wheel
divided into nine even, multicolored portions with a single golden arrow sticking out from the
center. Midoriya barely has time to make out Team Deathmatch and Doom, But You're The
Demons before the arrow begins to spin.
The arrow only spins for ten seconds, but the last half of the spin feels way longer than it actually
is. The arrow barely scrapes by Pin The Tail On The Eraserhead and stops just a pixel or two shy
of Terminally Placed Exhaust Ports.
"And it looks like the first event is a water rescue," Midnight says disappointedly. "Shame, I was
hoping for Running With The Villains. Anyways, please listen as one of our handsome referees
calls out the rules! Take it away, Power Loader!"
"Right, listen up ‘cause I'm only gonna explain once!" The shirtless form of the head of the
Support Department takes the stage, his large metallic helmet adding an echo to his voice. "In five
minutes, this whole field will be flooded. Don't worry, you'll get to stand on raised platforms when
it happens. But once all the water settles, the time begins."
"There'll be obstacles and objectives on the floor of the fake lake," Eraserhead continues.
"Dummies are civilians. Your job will be to bring them to this stage. The harder it is to get to the
dummies, the more points they're worth. You also get bonus points for carrying multiple at once
and for keeping the fake bodies in perfect condition."
"Lastly, anything goes," Power Loader finishes. "Of course, it's not exactly productive to attack
others, but it's allowed. Just no killing or permanent maiming. And try to keep it PG-13 for the
viewers back home."
"You know how to swim?" Noburo whispers in Midoriya's ear.
"Yeah, a little. But I'll have to rely on my Quirk for this. What about you?" Midoriya asks back.
Noburo bears her teeth in a proud grin. "I've been swimming in the open ocean since I was four. I'll
be just fine."
They’re ordered to make for the platforms after that. Cementoss must've been present somewhere
because the twin structures manifest on opposite sides of the stadium in seconds. The two blocks of
concrete are both seven meters tall, with simple staircases leading up. Midoriya and Noburo are
sent to opposite sides by order of Eraserhead and wish each other good luck before parting.
Once everyone is on a platform, the floor of the stadium opens up, revealing a fake seafloor. There
are shipwrecks, bits of coral, and tons upon tons of dummies, all colored black to stick out from the
white sand.
"Alright, let's get that clock ready!" Midnight calls through her mic. "You know, the average
human can only hold their breath for two minutes. But, since I'm a merciful goddess, that won't be
the time limit! Instead, our amazing first years will have seven whole minutes to fetch as many
bodies as possible!"
Seven minutes. That was even less than the entrance exam time limit. Looking around at the others
on his platform, Midoriya can tell many aren't happy about it. His side has mostly support students,
who grumble about not being able to show off. Midoriya understands that. He'd consider fifteen
minutes to be a short amount of time to show off a new invention, but seven?
"Yo, Hero Course," a deep voice barked out. Midoriya turned to face a rather tall boy with moss
green scales and fins sticking out of his gym uniform. "Just wanna let you know that we're all
going for ya, dig? I'm not enough of a dick to blindside people, but I want a spot in the Hero class,
even if I have to steal it from you."
A couple months or maybe even a couple weeks back, Midoriya might have flinched, or maybe
even stuttered out an apology. But now…
You're top of the class at the best hero school in the country. Have some confidence in yourself.
Show the world that you are here.
I didn't train no loser. Go out there and strut your stuff!
Midoriya takes a deep breath and looks the other boy directly in the eye. "All of you are going for
me? Good. I'd like a challenge."
The boy blinks. "Okay, you're definitely on my shit list. I hate cocky bastards like you!" he spits.
"And I hate that you think I'm just gonna lie down and let my spot get swiped," Midoriya bites
back. "Good luck. You'll need it."
"I, you… why, when I get my hands on you the final round, I'll—"
"Start the countdown!" Midnight orders from her announcer's box.
The boy next to him shuts up, perching on the edge of the platform like a competitive swimmer.
Midoriya moves to do the same, but—
He's not a swimmer, though maybe he doesn't need to be. A familiar feral grin slips onto his lips.
He takes a step back and flexes his legs. Float will serve him well. Flying up and diving shouldn't
be too difficult. Swimming through the water once he's submerged, however…
He shrugs off the jacket of his gym uniform. It's just dead weight he doesn't need. Can Float be
used underwater?
1
Well, he'll just have to test it out, won't he?
"Start!"
This time, no one hesitates. Hundreds of students hurl themselves over the edge, pushing and
shoving each other for better access to the water. A select few wait it out, hoping for a more
peaceful entry.
Midoriya simply pushes off the ground and flies to the center of the basin. The chaos he sees
below as he flies is almost magnificent. Support students combine forces to paddle and dive at
civilians while General Education students swim wildly. Some people with water Quirks, or Quirks
that are good for mobility, dive below and swim under everyone.
Nobody else can fly. Or at least, no one else thinks to try. This is an aquatic event, after all.
Well, Midoriya thinks, at least a good number of cameras are on him for the time being. His mom's
probably yelling at the television set right now, delighted that her baby boy is flying high above the
competition, and above all, staying safe.
Of course, he can't stay dry forever. The water is already becoming muddied with silt as others
start to dive for easily-placed dummies that are closer to the platforms. Midoriya, at least, can skip
over those. Better to go where others aren't for better pickings.
He dives for the water in the exact center of the basin, making a rather large splash due to all the
force One for All generates even at just five percent. With lungs full of air and eyes full of oddly
warm water, Midoriya searches for his first dummy.
The water is well-lit, and where he is, it's crystal clear as well. It's not salty either, more similar to
what comes out of a faucet than the ocean. Midoriya dives down right in the middle of a ring of
sunken ships, parts of which are stuck out of the water. It’s obvious that it would be difficult if not
impossible for most to reach the area. A variety of different dummies litter the ground, and even
more are peeking out of the wrecks.
Finding that Float actually works underwater, Midoriya swims deeper and grabs the arm of the
closest dummy. Slinging it over his shoulder in a fireman's carry, he looks around for another
dummy. He chooses a smaller pair next, snatching what are supposed to be toddlers. With a quick
application of Float, he breaks the surface.
"—and as the first contestants make it back to the starting platform, the first points are on the
board! Most of the top ten are support students. I just love a bright mind, don't you?" Midoriya
risks a glance at the scoreboard. He and Noburo don't have any points yet, but since they're only
two seconds in, and the highest number of points on the board is seven, that's forgivable.
As he flies back to the concrete platform, Midoriya has to dodge a couple projectiles and two jets
of water. He very nearly loses grip of the two 'children' but holds fast. He still makes it back to
where he started and carefully deposits his precious cargo.
"Midoriya rockets to the top spot with fifty-five points! My, my, what a hero that boy is," Midnight
purrs.
Midoriya pays her no mind as he kicks off again and returns to the same spot. Since he'd already
gotten a good idea of how the circle of ships is laid out, he immediately knows where he wants to
go. The harder a dummy is to get to, the more points it’s worth. Therefore, if he wants to maximize
his points, he should go for the difficult ones until the very end, when he would make a mad dash
to nab as many easy ones as possible.
Kicking out the hull of a sunken pirate ship (complete with a Plus Ultra Jolly Roger flag he
desperately wants on his wall), he quickly slings a pair of pirates over his shoulders and cradles
another in his arms.
The second fly back to the platform is much easier. Most of the people seem to be diving down to
grab a dummy instead of swimming to a good spot. Midoriya is grateful for it. He grabbed too
many people to keep agile while flying. The weight isn't as much of a problem as the fact that the
fake bodies can't grip.
"Noburo adds another ten points, putting her solidly in sixth place. Not too shabby for someone
without a swimming or enhancement Quirk! And look at that, Midoriya widens his lead with
another seventy points. Give the others a chance, will you, hun? I'll make it worth your while. And
I mean with get-out-of-detention passes, please remove your mind from the gutter! It's not very
flattering."
Noburo is doing good. That makes Midoriya's smile widen. She'd wanted a no-holds-barred match
since the second week of school, and Midoriya wants to give it to her. Of course, anything could
happen in the second round, or even this one, but he has faith in her abilities.
The third trip to the circle starts smoothly. Midoriya caves in the hull of a fake yacht and grabs an
arm and shoulder-full of children dressed in brightly-colored Hawaiian shirts. But as he swims up
to the surface, a massive weight slams into his side, bruising his ribs. He just barely has time to see
the fish boy from earlier give him a rude gesture before he swims away.
Midoriya so desperately wants to chase after him but has to come up for air. By the time he goes
back down, the larger student is already gone.
"Oh, look at that! Class 1-D's Shun Hiroki racks up sixty points putting him in second! Better kick
it up a notch, Midoriya!"
Taking Midnight's words to heart, Midoriya dives back down and quickly grabs another set of
dummies. He manages three in his arms, three slung over his shoulders, and even grabs two with
his legs. Is it risky? Yes. With that much weight to balance, and none of it staying put on its own,
it's a miracle that he makes it back to the platform. But he does and gets a hundred points for his
efforts.
Satisfied with his lead, Midoriya flies back to the ships a bit recklessly, still going at full speed but
doing loop de loops, barrel rolls, and skimming the water with his fingertips as he spreads his arms
like the wings of a bird.
But then, "Just a hundred seconds left! Give us a good show!"
Midoriya reacts quickly, changing course to a straight line, and dives down at full tilt. There are
maybe ten or twenty dummies left in the circle of ships, and since he got all the difficult ones out of
the way, all Midoriya has to do is to find a way to carry as many as possible to keep the
unchallenged lead.
Coming down from a quick breath, Midoriya grabs a heavy, thick rope. He arranges about fifteen
dummies in one large clump and ties them together as best he can. He's just about to break the
surface and fly off again when a hard kick to the chest sends him floating back. The scaled boy
from earlier grabs his rope and tugs the dummies behind him to the platform. Midoriya is forced to
come up for air.
By the time he regains his breath, Midoriya can tell that the boy (Shun, he reminds himself
mentally) is already halfway back. With his hard-earned points. "I said I wasn't going to roll over
and take it," Midoriya mutters, rising up in the air and shooting off with Float.
"And a hero never goes back on a promise!" Midoriya bellows as he slams full force into the back
of the point snatcher. Shun is forced to submerge completely but grabs hold of Midoriya's ankle,
taking the hero student with him.
The second Midoriya goes under, he's punching. With all the air bubbles, sand, and water in his
eyes, he can hardly see anything, but he manages to hit Shun with a hard right cross then follows
with a kick to what he hopes are the boy's ribs.
It takes a couple more strikes to shake the boy off, but Midoriya does it and takes hold of his rope
once again, flying as hard as he can to the platform.
"Ten!" Midnight shouts.
He's not going to be fast enough at five percent.
"Nine!" Part of the crowd joins in.
There's just no way. If he wants these points, he'll have to push past the limit. But that's what U.A
is all about.
"Eight!" More of the spectators join in the countdown.
Midoriya increases his level to six percent. It's still not enough.
"Seven!" Half the crowd is counting now, the other half screaming what sounds like nonsense.
Midoriya pushes to eight percent, and the green lightning, usually happy to crawl along his skin,
starts to stick to the water he passes. It's not enough.
"Six!"
Ten percent. Oddly enough, his body feels fine. Has he discovered his new limit? If he has, it still
won't be enough to make it.
"Five!"
It's all or nothing, he decides. Sure he's got the win, but he wants to be the undisputed best. So he
pulls out all the stops. Fourteen percent. His body feels like it's on fire now, but that's fine.
Midoriya knows he can make it.
"Three!"
"Two!"
Midoriya slams into the wall behind the platform, dropping his cargo.
"One! And that's a wrap on the first event! Yo, Aizawa, did those last points count for Midoriya?"
His homeroom teacher takes a good look at him, not that he sees, what with being face down on a
slab of concrete groaning about his stomach.
"Yeah, we'll count 'em. Points off for the landing though."
"Astounding! Midoriya racks up another one hundred fifty points last-minute! He's got more points
than first and second combined!"
Midoriya rolls over and stares up at the sky. The roar of the crowd is dampened by the massive
ache he has in his head. Eraserhead is standing over him, looking much more tired than usual.
"Get up and go see the old lady, kid. The next one's only gonna be more challenging."
Chapter End Notes
I think this one's OK. Not amazing, not awful, just passable. If you're wondering, I
made Midnight the announcer because Present Mic would almost always call the third
year festival, and the one we see in cannon is an exception. Other ideas for announcers
include Hawks, Cementoss, Recovery Girl, and Endeavor. Don't ask.
Every single event in my Sports Festival will be different then the cannon one. This is
because I don't want to rehash stuff we've all read a million times. Rejected ideas for
events include, but are not limited to, Hole in the Wall, Nightmare Jeopardy, Wrestle
Chess (look it up), and Lawn Darts.
Thanks for reading! Cheers!

Chapter Notes
"You want to completely overhaul the plans for the festival, which we've already started work on,
a month before it takes place." Power Loader is usually a calm and rational person, which Aizawa
appreciates in the usually hectic clusterfuck that is U.A. Of course, even the most rational people
have their limits, and the Support head is reaching his.
"They won't be large changes, I assure you." Nedzu slides a small pile of papers across the table.
"We will still utilize the flood pipes and the swords, but for the first and second events, some
changes will need to be made."
Power Loader looks over the papers. "I take it this is 'cause Eraser gave seventeen students the
boot?"
"Yes," Aizawa speaks. "They either had no potential or would have been more of a hindrance to
society rather than a help. I was the one to suggest these changes as well."
"I figured." Power Loader leans back. "Those changes will make teamwork nearly impossible.
Nedzu would've just upped the complexity, but you?"
"I want to push my students. That list is what it'll take to do so." Aizawa reaches into his pocket
and procures a bottle of eye drops. "They're strong individually but even more so as a team. If the
old plan was to go through, then they would work together and dominate, and therefore learn
nothing. By forcing them apart, and at the same time giving your classes the perfect scenario to use
their gadgets in, they'll be pushed and better shown off to real pros."
"Alright," Power Loader agrees, "but I expect overtime pay for all this extra work. What about the
second and third years?"
"Oh, the same changes can apply," Nedzu says. Aizawa raises an eyebrow. "I think our older
students would benefit from learning to be strong on their own, no? Besides, I have a feeling the
second years will be quite interesting." The gleam in the principal's eyes is something lesser men
would shiver at. Aizawa and Power Loader, however, have long since gotten used to it.
"I'll get right on those changes, sir. Aizawa, I promise to make sure your kids are properly
challenged."
"They're not… whatever." Aizawa sighs. "Just stick to the plans and everything'll be fine."
[x]
After stumbling to Recovery Girl and getting a very thorough lecture on head injuries and listening
to his body, Midoriya walks out of the medical facility feeling like a million bucks. Or more like
eight hundred thousand bucks. Recovery Girl's Quirk took some energy out of him, but not nearly
enough to make the next event any harder.
Or so he hopes.
Eraserhead's warning doesn't sit well with him. In all the festivals Midoriya has watched—and he's
seen a lot of them—the first event almost always seems the hardest. It was usually an individual-
versus-environment type of contest, with the added difficulty of dealing with a massive crowd. The
second was almost always group combat, which Midoriya feels is much easier.
But then again, this is U.A he's talking about. Every day so far has steadily gotten harder. Mr.
Aizawa has made it abundantly clear that Midoriya and Noburo are going to be some of the
school's top graduates by the time they're done, so it makes sense that they'll be worked hard. But
how does Aizawa know the event will be harder? It was always randomized. Maybe he knows the
possible events? That's certainly possible, there were nine outcomes on the last one. Or maybe—
"Hey, Midoriya, there you are!" Noburo's voice calls through the hallway. "We've got a ten minute
break before the next event, so I thought I'd make sure you didn't rattle your brain too much with
that crash of yours." Like Midoriya, she chose to forgo the outer jacket of her uniform—and walks
around comfortably in a black tank top. The blue jacket is tied around her waist.
"I'm alright, thanks!" He scratches the back of his neck. "Recovery Girl fixed me up, not that she
was happy with my stunt."
Noburo snorts. "Yeah, you were the only one who needed her. It's actually quite surprising,
because some of those brawls in the water were brutal."
Midoriya looks his friend over. "You weren't injured?" he says, seeing that she's no worse for wear
if you don't count her wet hair.
"Nah, I'm too good at swimming. I just wish I could fly, then I could've gotten a lot more points."
She slips her hands into her pockets. "Speaking of, how the hell did you get over two hundred
points? You and that Gen Ed kid absolutely dominated, and I need to know how."
"Oh, uh, there was this big shipwreck thing in the middle of the water," Midoriya explains. "I'm not
sure why they put it there, but the dummies were worth way more points for some reason."
Noburo rolls her eyes. "And I'm betting someone would have had to fly or be able to breathe
underwater to get to it," she says, a little annoyed. "That's the opposite of fair. Not that it's anything
out of the ordinary for this school."
"'A hero's job is to combat the world's unfairness,'" Midoriya quotes Eraserhead.
"You seem pretty happy about what happened, though," Noburo teases. "Think you're hot shit now
'cause you won the genetic lottery?"
"No, not at all!" Midoriya denies. "I'm glad I won, but I… I also want a fair victory, you know?"
Noburo nods. "Yeah, I do."
They stop walking for a bit and stand in the hallway, leaning against opposite walls. Midoriya
finds himself chewing the inside of his cheek and thinking about the next event. He doesn't notice
that he's zoned out until the intercom turns on.
"Would every participant who placed in the top forty-two please return to the pitch? Top forty-two
to the pitch, please." The familiar robotic voice of the intercom bot gets the two moving again.
"Did you have time to look at the scoreboard?" Noburo asks, rounding a corner.
"No. Where did you place?" Midoriya asks, recalling that Midnight had announced that he had an
overabundance of points and was therefore in first.
"Fifth. I beat out most of the others, but you and the other three had good Quirks for that one."
Noburo stops short of the entrance to the field. Most of the other students that moved on are
already there.
"Fifth is pretty good!" Midoriya encourages, stepping out. "I'm sure you'll do even better on the
next one—it's almost always team combat." Noburo makes a noncommittal hum and follows.
"Attention, please!" Midnight called. "Now that we have everyone who made it to the second
round present, the next event will be called! Aizawa, speak!"
Eraserhead groans but steps forward. Behind him sits a massive fifty foot long table, filled to the
brim with ornamental swords of varying sizes and styles. "The next round is called King of the
Blades. It's as simple as the name is pretentious. You'll each be assigned a sword based on your
placement in the previous event, and your goal is to claim as many points as possible.
"Each sword has a point value and a number. Number forty-two is worth one point, number forty-
one is worth two, etcetera, etcetera. Except number one, which is worth a thousand." Aizawa's
monotone betrays how important the last bit of his explanation is. "And just so you don't go
shorting out your brains trying to do mental math, number one is worth more than the rest
combined. Any questions?"
There are many questions. Aizawa answers none and orders them to pick up their swords.
Midoriya's sword is a massive eight foot hunk of metal, weighing at least two hundred pounds. The
hilt is big enough for All Might's muscle form to hold with both hands, and only the upper two-
thirds of the blade is sharpened to any extent. The lower third is separated by a pair of spikes
sticking out perpendicular to the length. The Roman numerals for one thousand run down the flat
side of the blade.
Midoriya takes a couple big steps away from the crowd and tries to swing it. The weapon is
completely unbalanced, and he nearly drops it.
"You could totally kill someone with that thing, dude!" an excited-sounding voice says from
behind him. Midoriya turns to see a short, mousy boy decked out in support gear. He's holding a
blade the length of his forearm in one hand, the number eight inscribed on the blade.
"Um, can I help you?" Midoriya asks, not quite sure what to do with his sword. He settles for
sticking it in the ground.
"You sure can." The boy moves closer and loops an arm around Midoriya's shoulders. "You see,
me and, like, five other support kids are teaming up so we can move on—only the top sixteen
make it, you know? Anyways, I was wondering if you'd like to join. You probably don't need it,
but then again, this is UA, you know? So basically what I'm saying is that you should totally help
me and my buddies out. In exchange, we'll make sure your next costume design is perfect!"
Midoriya considers it for a moment. "Look, uh, what's your name?"
"Lee. Lee Mushi." The boy smiles wide. "The name's awful, I know. Anyways, you can continue."
"Lee, I'd really like to help, but my Quirk—"
"Isn't the best for working with a defense-oriented strategy that a group of support students are
likely to employ, I know." Lee's smile never wavers. "But, consider this. When that buzzer sounds,
every single one of these people are going to go right for you, since you've got the only guaranteed
ticket into the next round. Me and my friends can protect it while you zip around and kick ass!"
Midoriya blinks. Then smiles. "Do you mind if I talk to your friends?"
Lee's grin turns just a smidge arrogant. "My friend, you can talk our ears off until the end of time,
just as long as you promise to carry us to the next event."
[x]
Toshinori holds a steady gaze on the field below, the crystal clear glass of his private box almost
invisible with the bright late morning sun. It's a little difficult to make out the individual
contestants, but the simple spyglass that rests in his lap remedies that problem.
"A possession challenge," Gran Torino says, almost to himself. "Didn't they have one of those at
your last Sports Festival?"
Toshinori nods fondly. "Yes, yes they did. Though it wasn't as wild as this one's shaping up to be.
If I remember correctly, we were placed in random teams of sixteen and forced to fight for a bunch
of random items. One was even worth way more than any of the others, like the boy's massive
Zweihänder. It was a small green lego brick, I think."
"He'll probably ditch the thousand points right off the bat." Gran Torino takes a sip of his coffee.
"He's smart enough to know that it's worthless until the final moments. But I can see him talking to
a bunch of grease monkeys down there, so I've got no clue what he's actually got planned."
Toshinori ignores the mildly derogatory term for support workers in favor of lifting the spyglass to
his eye. He focuses on Young Midoriya, who's gesturing wildly with his hands while he speaks to
a smiling quintet of kids. "It's hard to tell what's going on in that head of his sometimes," he says
redundantly. "But the others seem happy enough. I think he's got a good chance at this."
"I'd say so too, except most of those rejects look like they want to eviscerate him." Gran Torino
laughs, though it's somewhat forced. Toshinori turns his attention away from Midoriya and to a
large batch of unhappy-looking students. Their lack of support gear denotes them as General
Students students.
"Only fifteen General Education kids moved on, but every single one of them are working
together. I hate to say it, but I must compliment their desire to win." Toshinori collapses his
spyglass. "We haven't worked on fighting large groups with him yet, have we?"
"Nope," Gran Torino says, "and from what he's told about school, UA hasn't either."
"Float gives him an edge, however." Toshinori crosses his long legs. "If he keeps to the air with
that sword, he'll have a shot."
"If he intends to work with others, he can't do that," Gran argues. "This is technically an individual
event, but few are treating it that way. If he flies solo again, he'll drive off a lot of agencies and
paint himself as a lone wolf type, which isn't good for the future symbol. But if he teams up, he
can't perform at his full potential, which could muck up his chances at moving on."
"Do you think he realizes this?" Toshinori asks. Gran shoots him a look. "You're right, he most
certainly does. I'm just curious as to how he'll manage it."
"Hopefully he doesn't pull anything too crazy." Gran sighs. "He's got a good amount of restraint,
but you saw the last round. I've got a feeling he'll stop at nothing to win this."
"I can't help but agree."
The next couple of minutes pass in silence, neither man speaking a word when Midnight orders for
the terrain to be altered from a simple grass lawn to rolling hills dispersed with trenches and the
occasional crater. Toshinori finds himself leaning forward when the countdown starts, noting that
Midoriya is far away from the other students he was talking to earlier.
Then the counter hits zero, and Toshinori can't fight off his proud smile no matter how hard he
tries.
[x]
After the five-minute planning period is over, Midoriya carefully chooses his starting spot like
everyone else. He's grateful that each person had to be at least ten feet from all others to start.
Hopefully it'll give him enough time to react.
Nervously drumming his fingers on the butt of the massive sword, he looks down from his
position on top of a small hill. He makes eye contact with the surrounding competitors and tries to
keep his heart from exploding outward when they all grin viciously at him.
"'Whenever you're scared or nervous about a fight,'" he mutters, "'just try to deal with it by
smiling.'" His mentor's words provide a small amount of comfort, and he's able to slow down his
fidgeting.
Looking up, he quickly spots his allies in the support course. They're all the way across the field,
and probably can't see him, so he doesn't wave. The fact that he has a plan and people willing to
stick to it feels both great and awful at the same time. Great in the fact that people respect his ideas,
but awful that they might lose because of him.
"Combatants at the ready!" Midnight calls. "Spectators, I hope you're ready for an eventful fifteen
minutes, because I promise our students won't disappoint! Ten!"
Midoriya tunes out the countdown, calling forth One for All and letting it course through his veins.
Having gotten so used to the timing at five percent, he's elected to stick with the output level for
the time being. Ten percent will be saved for when things go bad, and fourteen perfect is only for if
he's completely screwed. And then there's his ace in the hole, which will make Recovery Girl
steam from the ears if he tries, and therefore will only be used if his allies are about to lose
everything.
"Go!" At Midnight's order, Midoriya raises his massive blade high and smiles. Out loud, he counts.
"One-one thousand, two-one thousand, three..." The Gen Ed students draw closer, hindered by the
steepness of the hill and from tripping each other. When they get within three feet of him, he
throws the sword at chest height directly into the head of the charge. Then he pushes off the
ground and flies away with Float. The crowd goes wild.
"What an interesting strategy! Midoriya utilized the desire for the highest concentration of points to
tie up a large fraction of his enemies!" Midnight announces as Midoriya quickly dives down to
swipe a pair of swords before flying off for real.
Casting one quick glance behind him, he sees that a massive tug of war session has broken out
between almost everyone who rushed him. People desperately try to keep a hand on the blade as
Quirks run rampant. Midoriya's smile broadens. Just like he planned.
Midoriya flies his way to his allies completely unhindered. Everyone seems to be going for the top
five or so swords. While two blades totaling twenty points is nothing bad, it's a drop in the bucket
between the one thousand or even the forty-one points the first and second swords offer.
Lee and his friends have set up shop in a corner of the field. They've booby-trapped an arc around
them that's about twenty feet wide and six deep. Two people point net guns at him from behind riot
shields, and Lee himself is setting up some kind of ballista.
Midoriya carefully finds a spot and drops the swords behind the arc of traps, responding to Lee's
shout of thanks with a simple nod before flying off for more points.
"I see quite a lot of teamwork for an individual event," Midnight says like she's scolding a child. "I
get that this is an 'everything goes' type of contest, but is this really alright? Aizawa?" Midoriya
can't hear it, but Eraserhead somehow replies, because Midnight sighs dejectedly. "All I wanted
was a simple fifteen minute all-out free-for-all. Is that too much for a girl to ask for?"
The answer is yes because no one in a team tries to break off. As Midoriya circles above to scout,
he can see a couple groups battling and the occasional single fighter. Most people don't even bother
using the swords, instead holding them in their off-hand while they use their Quirks or support gear
to steal points or trap others.
There's one group, though, that's holding out on top of a hill. Six support and three general students
all stand with their backs to their swords, which are impaled in the ground. They're all distracted by
Noburo and the guy who tried to steal Midoriya's points in the last round, of all people, who are
trying to break through along with a couple others.
It's the perfect target.
It's also laughably easy to swoop in, grab all of the swords, and take off with them cradled in his
arms like a child. He has to weave around a couple projectiles, including what appear to be laser
beams, but are hopefully mostly harmless. The curses they all shout after him make Midoriya feel
accomplished rather than belittled, which is a first. He wonders if this is what heroes feel like when
villains scream as they're being forced into police transports.
It probably is.
Once again, Midoriya drops off the swords behind his team. Lee, who's in the middle of digging
some kind of trench as the other four fight off a batch of Gen Ed kids, tells him to take it easy on
the points so they don't get swamped, and go keep an eye on the first place sword. Midoriya agrees
and takes to the sky once more.
After making two more point runs and bringing the total score of his team up to around 70, he
makes lazy circles in the air for a while. Having a bird's-eye view on everything is as awe-inspiring
as it is strategic. Most of the fighting seems to be happening towards the southern part of the
stadium, probably due to the fact that it has a lot of low hills that are easy to keep ground on, which
a solo fighter would definitely need to pull through a massive fight like this.
A quick look at the scoreboard shows that no one who teamed up has any points. The person in
first only has fifteen points, followed by another person with ten, and one with nine. Since the most
common strategy seems to be 'throw all the swords in an easily defendable spot and hold out till the
end,' it makes sense. Not that Midnight's happy about it.
"You kids should actually use the swords in a swordplay event!" she complains. "I mean, come on,
they're blunted! You're not gonna lop an arm off or impale someone on accident! Or even on
purpose! You're insulting the company we ordered them from by not using them. Oh, also, there's
this one team in the northwest corner that has, like, half the points with them."
Everyone combatant freezes at the same time. They all look around wildly, trying to figure out
which direction northwest is. Midoriya, unfortunately, already knows.
"Northwest is towards me and to my right, your left. What are we teaching you?" Midoriya, who's
eye level with the announcer's box, can see that Midnight has her feet propped up on her desk and
is munching on a bowl of popcorn. Her smile gives him goosebumps. "Don't wait for my blessing.
Everyone knows I prefer doers instead of thinkers!"
Midoriya is the first to react, charging up to eight percent and flying back to his team, who are
frantically trying to keep the attackers who were already there at bay and reinforce their defenses at
the same time.
Instead of landing in front of the enemy mob and fighting them head-on, Midoriya comes at them
from the side, flying directly into them. He knocks five over and tackles two at the same time. He
wrestles their swords from their hands and, ignoring Midnight's elated yell that he's in first place
with twenty-five points, rushes the still disordered remains.
Like he did in his first U.A combat training, he uses the size of the group against them. Most trip
over each other, and Midoriya punches them away. One of them, however, uses the confusion to
breach his team's defenses. She manages to pick up a sword and looks absolutely delighted. That
is, until she turns around and sees five very angry and heavily armed support students.
"Uh, mercy?" she asks weakly. She is not shown mercy.
By the time there are five minutes left in the event, the majority of the contestants are standing a
couple feet away from Team Lee's defensive line. They seem unsure about attacking, Midoriya
notes. He doesn't blame them; his allies are dug in well, and their Quirks are nothing to sneeze at.
Midoriya still keeps a watchful eye on them, Full Cowl active at five percent as he slowly floats
back and forth along the trapped arc.
From what the scoreboard and Midnight say, the battle for the one thousand point sword has
cooled down slightly, only being contented by Noburo and two others. Everyone else is staring at
Midoriya waiting.
"Hey, man," Lee calls. Midoriya nods to show that he's listening but doesn't dare turn around. "Uh,
we only need, like, half of these to move on. Why don't we give some away?"
That would be a good way to get rid of their problem. In fact, if there was more time left, Midoriya
would take all of the swords they had and drop them in the middle of the arena, but there are only
three minutes on the clock.
Midoriya licks his lips. He has an idea, and it's probably really dumb. But as long as he can run
down the clock, it can't be terrible. "You guys realize that, between all of you standing here, there's
more points than what's behind me, right?" No one responds. "Also, only sixteen of us can make it.
There's at least thirty of you here."
That seems to shake their resolve somewhat. Most of them begin to look at each other warily.
Then, "Fuck it," one says, and promptly decks the nearest person in the face.
"And in a shocking turn of events," Midnight says over the chaos, "Midoriya uses his words to turn
the situation around! Take notes, hero hopefuls back home, not every situation needs to be resolved
with violence! Not that this is the best example..."
Midoriya takes a step back to watch as his former attackers turn on each other. "Lee, how many
points do we have?"
"One hundred fifty-six!" Lee calls back instantly.
Midoriya grimaces. "That's not enough."
"It's close," Lee agrees.
"I'm going to—"
"Get us a few more points," Lee finishes for him. "Go! And hurry, there's less than two minutes!"
Until he dives into the thirty-way brawl, Midoriya doesn't understand how horrifyingly chaotic
fights can be. The second he does, he's constantly dodging, barely able to launch an attack. Most of
the Quirks being used are long-range, sparing them from being trampled, but Midoriya has some
close calls, losing a pant leg and the bottom half of his tank top as he steals a couple swords.
"Thirty seconds!" Midnight cries. Midoriya barely manages to steal three more before he rushes
back to his team.
"Alright, are they divided up evenly?" Midoriya asks frantically.
"Yeah, we each get just under twenty points." One of the support students answers.
"Make that twenty five each." Midoriya carefully lays out his newly acquired points. "Someone
can have this thirty-nine point one, but everyone else… hopefully it's enough."
"Oi, they've got like two hundred points over there!" someone cries, pointing to Midoriya at the
same time Midnight calls that there are fifteen seconds left on the clock.
Midoriya can only stare frozen as every single person turns to face him. They all move at the same
time, and he realizes that his team is totally screwed. Midoriya can take his points and fly away.
They can't. He doesn't want to abandon them, but it's the only option except for…
Midoriya stands tall, facing the mob of charging students with a smile as he forces his allies behind
him. He holds out an arm, two fingers curled back with the tips touching his thumb.
One for All, One Hundred Percent!
"Delaware Smash!"
Two columns of spinning air pressure hit the students and sent them flying back. They land in a
heap. Midoriya feels Lee shove a pair of swords in his uninjured hand just as the buzzer sounds.
The match is over.
[x]
"And with that explosive ending, the second event is finished! Midoriya managed to land in third
with the help of his teammates and is sitting pretty with forty-nine points! Meanwhile, Noburo
managed to get a hold of the thousand point sword and sits at the top! Stay tuned while we go on
commercial break, folks, because the side games are bound to be great!"
With the push of a button, the monitor blinks off, while its twin to the right of it stays on, replaying
the same scene over and over.
"Delaware Smash!"
"Delaware Smash!"
"Delaware Smash!"
"Delaware Smash!"
The camera had shut off before anyone could get a proper look at the aftermath, but that's just fine.
He has a memory Quirk, after all.
The young boy had completely shattered his index and middle fingers in order to make that last
blast. The sheer raw power he was able to release from just the flick of a finger was like nothing
the world has ever seen, with the exception of All Might, of course.
Nothing like the world has seen, but He is intimately familiar with such strength.
"It appears One for All's legacy has finally reached the point where the holder cannot use it at full
power. What do you make of this, My Lord?"
He thinks for a moment. "My body is not yet healed, and society's precious symbol is still strong.
We shall stay the course. The Ninth is of no concern for now."
"But my Lord, he is—"
"I know very well who Midoriya Izuku is, Doctor. We shall stay the course. The boy is nothing
compared to me, crippled as I am. It's only his master we have to worry about." He shut off his
second monitor. "Though perhaps… Doctor, how are my new pets progressing?"
"Not nearly fast enough to be useful, Lord. By my estimates, it'll be a year until they can be used in
any great capacity. Then there's our shortage of Quirks to consider if we wish to keep up
production."
He smiles, all lips and no teeth. "Doctor, are you familiar with the saying 'Kill two birds with one
stone?'"
"Of course."
"Excellent. Contact Kurogiri. Tell him I have a job for the boy."
One for All had expanded upon its legacy. It's only fair that All for One does the same.
[x]
Bonus! Midoriya Inko's Sports Festival Viewing Kit.
10 (ten) large boxes of tissues.
3 (three) blankets.
Cellphone and charger in case of emergency.
1 (one) liter of water.

A bowl of pretzels for stress eating.
A box of raisins for slightly healthier stress eating.
Towel to sop up any excess tears.
Knitting needles and yarn to pass the time between rounds.
Family photo album as a reminder of how far Izuku has come.
Fuzzy socks.
Chapter End Notes
This one was fun to write. I've always felt the calvary battle from cannon is a little
uninspired. Yes, watching them play deadly chicken is fun, but it's not nearly chaotic
enough for my tastes. So basically I made this one a (technical) free for all, and had all
the tactics be more battle-like.
Next one will finish up the tournament arc, mostly because I want to get into my
original ideas soonish. It'll still take a while, Izuku still needs a hero name, Provisional
License, and some friends who will stick around, but we'll get there.
I hope you enjoyed! Cheers!

Chapter Notes
This is pretty long, but I said I'd finish the festival with it so here you are. If you notice
any mistakes, let me know. I appreciate any feedback, and I read every comment
multiple times. Enjoy!
"Holy fuck, man, why didn't you lead with that?" Lee's overly cheerful shout does little to distract
Midoriya from the throbbing pain that his hand is in, but he manages to talk through it.
"Because this happens." Midoriya raises his hand, trying not to look at the crooked, dangling mess
that are his two fingers. He fails and nearly gags as a drop of blood leaks from the fingertip of his
middle finger. "Pretty badass, huh?" he jokes, trying to imitate Noburo. It falls flat.
"We need to get him to the medic, now," one of the girls on his team says. She looks over his hand,
gingerly holding it in hers. All of their swords lay on the ground, forgotten. "I'm not a doctor, but
with how bad this is, you shouldn't be doing anything but walking to medical help."
"I'll be alright," Midoriya insists, lifting up his bad hand and folding down his pinky, ring finger,
and thumb. His index and middle fingers dangle, making his attempted peace sign look more like a
piece of gore art. "I can get there on my own."
"Bullshit," Lee says, his smile just as bright. "We'll walk you there, the five of us. Right, guys?"
Everyone quickly agrees, and Midoriya is frogmarched all the way across the field to where the
entrance of the medical bay is.
"What kind of Quirk do you have?" someone asks offhandedly. "I've never heard of something that
hurts the user like that."
"It's basically a massive power source I can manipulate," Midoriya explains, "I usually use about
five percent when I fight, because if I go over that I hurt myself. What I did back there was a flick
of one hundred percent in my fingers and, well…"
"The backlash fucked your hand," Lee finishes. "It's a shame about your Quirk, though. That wind
blast was on par with All Might. If you could use one hundred percent safely, then you'd be the
second coming of the man himself. But you're stuck at five percent, so." He shrugs.
"I'm not stuck there, actually," Midoriya says, a little bit of pride seeping into his tone. The
throbbing pain in his hand has started to become bearable. "I hit ten percent today, actually, and
the doctors say that if I put on enough muscle and condition my body, then I'll be able to use my
full strength without worry."
"That's good, at least. It'll take awhile, though, I bet," someone says. They stop, having reached the
hallway, which splits off into two corridors.
"Which one?" Lee asks.

"Left," Midoriya answers without hesitation. He gets a few odd looks, but they continue to escort
him all the way to the door marked Healing. Lee reaches up to knock, but the door flies open
before he can.
"Midoriya Izuku, what did I say about not hurting yourself again?" Recovery Girl scolds.
Midoriya smiles and steps in. "I had to."
"No you didn't," Lee says from behind him.
Recovery Girl leans to the side and eyes the support students. "Thank you for bringing him here.
Who knows how long he would have waited if you didn't. I'll take care of him from here. Go eat
lunch, you'll need it."
Lee and his friends walk off after saying a quick goodbye, and Recovery Girl sits Midoriya down
at a table, her sitting across from him.
"They're broken, obviously. You've even split the skin in some places." Recovery Girl carefully
looks over Midoriya's hand. "You've also suffered extensive trauma throughout the rest of your
hand and some of your upper arm, likely from the recoil. It's nothing I can't fix, but it'll take a lot of
energy from you. Do you want me to heal it all the way or partway so you're not dead on your feet
next round?"
"Partway, please," Midoriya answers. "I don't think I'll do this again for a while."
"Try never again, and I can let you go with peace of mind," Recovery Girl says before giving his
hand a quick peck. Like magic, which it may as well be, his fingers straighten, and the bruising on
his hand fades. By the time it's done, his fingers are only a little sore, and there's no swelling.
Midoriya twitches his fingers and instantly hisses in pain.
"You said partway, so there'll be a little pain." Recovery Girl pulls out a drawer from her side of the
table and procures a roll of bandages. "I'll wrap them, and I can give you some basic painkillers if
you want. Nothing major, just some ibuprofen."
"That'd be nice, thanks," Midoriya says, letting her start working on wrapping his fingers. She's
halfway done with the second one when there's a quick knock on the door.
"Come in! And leave the door open, will you?" The door opens and in walks Noburo. "Ah, dear
I'm afraid that if you're not injured, you can't wait in here. More patients may be coming."
Midoriya looks over his shoulder and smiles at Noburo. "Just a second and I'll be out." His friend
nods and steps back out.
After his fingers are wrapped and he's taken a single tab of ibuprofen, Midoriya walks out of the
medical bay.
"How bad was it?" Noburo asks, standing up straight.
"Not as bad as when I first got it," Midoriya answers. "Just my two fingers, see?" He holds up his
hand.
"If Recovery Girl healed you, why are there bandages?" Noburo's brow furrows.
"Oh! I had her not heal me fully so I wouldn't be tired. And you should probably see her too, that
bruise on your arm looks painful," Midoriya says, referring to the yellow and purple splotch of
skin on her upper arm and shoulder.
She looks at it. "Yeah, I'll probably step in while you're getting changed."
"Getting changed?" Midoriya cocks his head.
Noburo looks him over head to toe, lingering on his stomach. She smirks. "You have really nice
abs."
Midoriya suddenly realizes that, oh yeah, he lost half of his shirt in the fight, and proceeds to go
bright red. "Y-you too. Er—I mean, I'm gonna go get changed!" He quickly brushes past her and
makes for the locker room, picking up the pace once he hears her start to laugh.
There's no one else in the locker room when he gets there, so Midoriya quickly swaps his ripped
gym uniform for a fresh one. Then he replies to texts from both his mom and All Might, who want
to know if he's okay. (He is, of course, even if his fingers throb a bit when he ties the strings of his
pants together.)
Once he's changed, Midoriya quickly makes for the student cafeteria. When he gets there, half of
the tables are full of people, and the lines for food aren't too long. He looks around and spots
Noburo, who's sitting next to a slightly uncomfortable-looking Oto. Neither have plates, but they
both see him and get up.
"Hey, how are your fingers, Midoriya?" Oto asks, patting him on the shoulder as they walk up to
the line for food. "I saw what happened on the big screen, but the camera cut to Noburo holding
the thousand points too quick for me to see how bad it was."
"Oh! It was nothing, just two fingers." Midoriya shows Oto his right hand. "They barely hurt right
now, actually. I'll finish healing them after the festival's over."
"Did you really need to do that, though?" Oto looks at him a bit worriedly. "You could've moved
on without hurting yourself. Everyone in the business course thinks that you'll lose some interest
because of that."
Midoriya shrugs, "I'd rather lose out on some offers than let the people I teamed up with down. A
little bit of pain isn't much in exchange for helping people."
"It was more than a little bit of pain, if what your new buddies in support were saying is true,"
Noburo says. Midoriya looks at her oddly. "I ran into them on the way to the medical center. They
were pretty loud."
"Well, I'm fine, now, so there's nothing to worry about," Midoriya says as he grabs a tray and
nearly drops it because of the sharp pain that shoots up his fingers. He bends down to pick it up,
but Noburo beats him to it. "Thanks."
"You should go back and finish healing," Noburo says. "You'd put up a better fight while
exhausted than with two broken fingers. We agreed to a fight while we were at full strength,
remember?"
"My fingers aren't busted, just a little hurt." Midoriya takes the tray and starts to walk through the
lunch line. "And the painkiller will kick in soon, so the only thing I'll have to worry about is not
breaking them again."
"You two seem awfully sure you'll get to fight in the next event," Oto says, grabbing a bowl of rice
for himself. "What if one or even both of you get knocked out?"
"Midoriya, what was that?" Noburo sticks up her nose and pointedly looks away from Oto. "I think
I heard a fly say something."
"Uh, well, the fly said something about us maybe not getting to fight?" Midoriya says. Noburo has
been ignoring Oto every day at lunch since he quit and has yet to show signs of stopping.
"Interesting. That fly is an idiot." She selects her lunch, a simple bento with a glass of iced water.
Midoriya gets something similar, preferring to eat light so he doesn't vomit or feel full when he
fights.
"You're still doing this," Oto says flatly. "It's been weeks. How long can you hold a grudge?"
Midoriya tactfully places himself between his two friends as they walk over to a table. Oto voices
his annoyance some more while Noburo looks straight ahead as they take their seats. They eat
lunch in silence for a while, which makes Midoriya fidget more than usual as he tries to use his
chopsticks with his left hand. Eventually, Oto forces a fork into his hand and Midoriya uses it. It
may be embarrassing, but getting food is a must if he wants to keep going.
It's awkward. Midoriya misses the casual teasing and occasional gossip that made up their lunches
the first couple weeks of school. But now the closest thing he gets to a friendly conversation is
when one of Oto's friends in the business course comes over to talk about project ideas.
Once the hour for lunch passes, Midoriya, Noburo, and the fourteen other finalists are summoned
to a meeting room. Eraserhead and Power Loader stand on opposite sides of a large flat screen
while sixteen kids sit in office chairs. Looking around, Midoriya spots Lee and his four friends, a
couple more people he's seen looking at blueprints over lunch, and Noburo, who's to his left. Not a
single person in the room is from Gen Ed.
"How many of you have seen the UA Sports Festival before?" Power Loader asks.
"Don't answer that," Aizawa cuts everyone off before they can start. "You all have, and even if you
haven't, you've heard conversations about it for years. The point we're trying to make is that the
final event is almost always the same. A one-on-one tournament."
"You all know the rules," Power Loader continues. "Elimination occurs when someone is knocked
out of the ring, immobilized, knocked out, or unable to continue fighting. It's a sports match, so
unnecessary roughness, intentional maiming, and other unheroic behaviors are prohibited."
"But it'll be different this year." Eraserhead hits the button on a remote, and the screen lights up
with the image of a stick figure wrapped in rope. "The only way you can win is by capturing your
opponent. No ring-outs, no surrender. Being pinned for ten seconds, tied up, or losing the ability to
fight will eliminate you. No more, no less."
"Of course, if things get too dangerous, we'll call it," Power Loader says before anyone can worry
about such a thing. "Our medical staff will also be watching to make sure no one gets hurt beyond
repair. Any questions?"
"How are we supposed to trap people if we don't have any equipment?" Noburo asks. "Pinning is
an option, but almost everyone here has a form of capture gear."
Eraserhead looks her dead in the eye. "That's your problem to solve. Plus Ultra."
As finalists, Midoriya and everyone else get a good-sized front row section to view the matches
from. Underneath the seats is where the separate waiting rooms are, four in total for private last-
minute planning sessions. The sixteen of them all take a spot, Midoriya in the front row with
Noburo to his left, and wait for the bracket to be announced.
"Are you guys ready for this!" Midnight yells into her mic. The crowd replies with enthusiastic
cheers. "Alright, let's hit the randomizer and see who's fighting first!"
The massive scoreboard-like screen across from where Midoriya sits immediately changes from an
ad for a dry cleaners to a blank bracket. The individual tiers are labeled, with round one at the
bottom and the winner at the very top. The screen dims a bit, and the solid white characters for
Loading… appear. Then it lights back up, and every eye in the stadium scans it at once.
Noburo is the first one to fight, paired with a boy from Support. Midoriya's friend taps him on the
back. "I'm gonna go down and warm up a bit. Cheer me on, yeah?"
"Of course," Midoriya says, continuing to scan the bracket. He knows almost no one in support, so
he'll be going in blind. The various gadgets they all have give away some idea of their fighting
styles, but they’re also designed to be used by others. Midoriya doesn't want to say it’s impossible
for one of them to have made an item that compliments or improves their Quirk, but it’s slightly
unlikely, and even if they did, he could use a ten percent smash to destroy it if need be.
But then there’s his method of capture. He has no means of trapping others, unlike most of his
competition. Even Noburo could use multiple spikes to restrict someone's limb movement, a
technique she'd been practicing on pretty often.
All Midoriya could do is knock someone out or go for a pin. But what counts as a pin? It normally
means holding your opponent's shoulders to the floor, but with Quirks allowed, that doesn't mean
anything. Someone could break out easily with them, and even if holding shoulders down counted,
a Quirk would let them turn the tables in a split second, making it impossible to pin someone for
ten seconds.
Midoriya is suddenly very thankful that his match is last. He needs to think.
"Sports fans, make some noise for the first match of the final round!" Midnight orders, cracking
her whip for dramatic effect. The audience screams, and Midoriya swears he can see someone
across the stadium chucking a bucket of popcorn at someone else. "I can't hear you!" Midnight
teases. The crowd raises its volume, though no one in Midoriya's section cheers. "Good enough for
me! Combatants, take the field!"
Noburo enters from the left, looking straight ahead. She still has her uniform jacket tied around her
waist, though she also has two thick strips of cloth tied loosely around her left bicep.
Midoriya makes sure to shout out some encouragement before turning his attention to her
opponent. He’s of average height, with fiery red hair with a single black highlight. He seems to be
wearing a form of exoskeleton over his uniform, with rods of glinting metal lining his limbs and
plates of what looks like plastic but is probably something way stronger protecting his torso and
upper legs. He also held a large baffled gun, with a few other black tubes hanging from the belt
around his waist.
"Fighters, are you ready?" Midoriya jumps at Midnight's words, realizing that he missed the intros.
"Perfect," the announcer continues once they both nod. "Three… two… one… fight!"
The boy immediately aims his gun slightly above Noburo and pulls the trigger. A two meter square
net shoots out, weighted with circular black corners. Noburo, who has been on the receiving end of
Midoriya using Full Cowl in an enclosed room and has the reflexes to show for it, dodges. A single
spike pokes out from her lower back, just a touch left from her spine. She uses another spike to
move to the boy's side, but he dances out of the way, aided by his armor, which clearly has a power
source right between his shoulder blades.
The two circle for a while, Noburo searching for an opening and the boy keeping his net use to a
minimum. Midoriya finds himself leaning forward in his seat, enthralled by the tension in the air.
There isn't a set time limit, but everyone knows that someone has to move. It's just a matter of—
Noburo, apparently fed up with the waiting, dashes forward, letting two spikes extend from the left
side of her waist and one from the right. The boy hurriedly shoots off another round, and Noburo
stops short, letting it wrap around her.
"Yes!" the boy cried just before the crowd began to cheer.
"Noburo Mai is cap—"
The net is torn to shreds in a flash of light and a swishing sound. The bottom third of Noburo's tank
top goes with it. The boy stumbles back and loses his footing. It's all Noburo needs.
She moves forward again, a pair of spikes pushing her forward. She unravels the top of the strips
on her arm and slides to a stop, kicking out his unsteady legs. The boy's exoskeleton is broken by a
few well-placed spikes, and his hands and feet are bound with strips of blue cloth.
Midoriya can't hear himself or the announcer's call over the roar of the crowd, but he yells at the
top of his lungs anyway.
The next six matches aren't very interesting. Well, they are for Midoriya, but not for the vast
majority of the crowd. Pairs of support students take turns showing off their designs, going into
detail about cost-effectiveness, weight, ease of production, and a host of other qualities. Mostly
everyone tunes them out, and Noburo even gets up to get a bucket of popcorn to split with
Midoriya, who watches the demonstrations like a hawk.
But, even if it takes all day, Midoriya's fight does come around. The match before him wraps up,
and he quickly makes his way down, more focused on a plan than his opponent for the time being.
But would there even be a fight? Everyone except for the boy Noburo got matched with seemed
content to talk before playing rock paper scissors to decide who got knocked out. And how did
those arrangements even come into fruition? Was it an unspoken rule? A deal made in the spur of
the moment? Midoriya wants to fight, to show off his skills, but wouldn't it be rude to start hitting
someone who just wants to talk?
"Hey." A low-sounding monotone gets Midoriya's attention. He turns and sees a rather short girl
with a bulky pair of black goggles, a pair of welder's globes, and a briefcase in her left hand.
"Oh, hi," Midoriya greets, slightly unsure. "Uh, I'm—"
"The idiot who submitted that awful costume design, I remember." The girl's lips seem to twitch up
when she says that.
Midoriya goes pink. "It wasn't that bad..."
"It was," the girl asserts. "I had to redesign it, after all."
"Thank you!" Midoriya says, genuinely grateful. Though he was fond of his original design,
improvements from someone better than him were not to be ignored.
"You can repay me by helping me advertise," she says, holding the briefcase out. "I'm not the
most… sociable of people, so we'll need to actually fight for my inventions to get interest. But not a
real fight. Just a couple of fake attacks so this can work its magic."
"What's in that thing?" Midoriya asks, slightly cautious after seeing a team of five support students
figuratively (but almost literally) rip someone apart last round.
"It's just some basic capture gear, a little bit of armor, a taser, and a flashbang." The briefcase
remains closed while she talks, and Midoriya begins to wonder if it really is just a briefcase.
"Okay," Midoriya says, warming up to the idea. "What do you need me to do?"
[x]
Aizawa watches carefully as Midoriya walks into the arena and does the same as the support girl
when she steps up. Truthfully, he wishes some General Education students had made the third
event. His internalized desire to see an underdog on the top of the podium, while irrational, is very
prevalent, mostly because he was that underdog, once upon a time.
But the underdogs of this year aren't worth a second look. No powerful or interesting Quirks,
average grades, poor critical thinking, little drive beyond personal gain, and bad attitudes plague
them. It's almost sad, if he's honest, and he usually is. Though there's always next year.
The two students don't move when the match starts. That's natural for kids their age. The good ones
hear all about waiting for an opening for years and years, taking it to heart. An unfortunate side
effect of that is having to teach them how to make an opening. Aizawa is good at making openings,
though, and he'd rather drill that into kids' heads than have to teach them patience, which is nearly
impossible past a certain age.
Midoriya and Support Girl (she's got good grades, if Aizawa remembers right, but also a really
plain face and name) do move eventually, with the green Not Quite Problem Child But Definitely
Getting Close To Being A Problem Child leaping up into the air in what's either the world's worst
lapse in judgment or the world's best feint.
Aizawa leans towards the world's worst lapse in judgment when the bottom half of the girl's
briefcase falls out and a rope extends from it to wrap around Midoriya's ankles. She yanks him
down with a slight tug, the briefcase most likely adding to the force. Midoriya hits the ground and
rolls, the rope winding up around his legs all the way to his neck.
There's a pause, and no one's quite sure what to do. Then Midoriya glows green and snaps the rope
easily. He gets up and takes a loose stance as if waiting for his opponent to make a decision.
The support girl calmly flicks the hand holding her case, causing it to shake, and all at once,
Aizawa realizes. Midoriya isn't actually fighting. He's helping the girl with marketing. It's a little
irritating, having to watch a fake fight, but also speaks to Midoriya's character. Support Girl isn't
moving on, but she deserves a chance to show off her hard work, and she's getting it. Aizawa can
live with that.
The two continue to fake fight for a while, with Midoriya getting tased a handful of times and
throwing a few jabs at half power when the girl brings the case to her chest and it expands to
armor. Even a flashbang emits from the thing, blinding everyone bar Aizawa, who had
unreasonable skill at closing his eyes at the right moment.
The briefcase is clearly marketed at stealth or undercover operations. A hero or police officer could
easily pose as a standard Japanese salaryman with the case and make arrests or getaways using the
item. If Aizawa bothered with clean and presentable disguises, he'd be interested, but he's just fine
with pretending to be a homeless man whenever he needs to blend in.
The fight ends with the girl being pinned wrestling style. Aizawa's happy to see that Midoriya can
grapple with a girl who isn't Noburo without turning the color of an apple, and Midnight calls the
match. The audience doesn't cheer much, but that's really only because they've been watching
twenty-minute ads for seven rounds straight. They can't be blamed.
With the first eight 'fights' complete, the quarterfinals start. Noburo easily beats a girl with some
kind of mutation that makes her skin red by using the same tactics, and Midoriya, who's up against
a boy with copious amounts of capture gear, uses his opponent's items against him. It's almost
cathartic after the practical play that was his last match. Midoriya may overthink often, and
definitely has some self-esteem issues, but he's nothing if not efficient.
The semifinals pass, and both of Aizawa's students stomp out their Support Department opponents,
who actually tried to fight back, probably for some extra recognition. They call for a fifteen-minute
break to let people get their last refreshments and use the facilities, and to run some ads on
whatever TV station is broadcasting.
Once the fifteen minutes are over, Midoriya and Noburo walk out of their entrances to a roaring
crowd. As annoying and earsplitting as it is, Aizawa feels a small twinge of pride at how the two
of them have gotten everyone's admiration. Aizawa knows that up in the private boxes are heroes,
sidekicks, and agency representatives, all eager to watch how they perform.
As Nemuri counts down excitedly from her spot in the announcer's booth, Aizawa takes the time to
study the pair. Noburo has given up on wearing a tank top, having shredded two already, and holds
a strip of cloth in her hands, stretching it taut. Midoriya is obviously forcing himself to relax,
mouthing to himself about smiling and keeping loose. He's ditched the outer coat but kept the tank
top, though unlike Noburo he didn't have a makeshift rope.
When the countdown reaches zero, they both snap to attention, faces schooled with calm
determination.
Well, Aizawa thinks, this'll be interesting.
[x]
Fighting Noburo is almost always fun. Her Quirk is actually a decent counter to Midoriya's usual
style of Full Cowl, with spikes ready to stab at him at a moment's notice whenever he gets to
bouncing. She also learns quickly from failure, ending Midoriya's first tactic of tackling from
behind in the first week of class. She's a quick thinker, too, using her own uniform as restraints,
and reacting to attacks quickly with spikes to dodge or counter.
Her Quirk is also strong if she has an iron-rich diet, which, considering that she was able to rip a
net to shreds earlier, she had definitely taken a couple of supplements the past week. And of
course, there’s the new development of her Quirk. She could move the spikes.
Midoriya had gotten a brief look at it in the first fight, but it was over far too quickly for him to
piece together. It was only in the semifinal that he saw it clearly.
He has a plan, though. And a backup plan or seven. Though if Mr. Aizawa is to be believed, plans
often go down the drain the moment they're put in use, so maybe he'll have to think on the fly.
As Midnight screams for them to fight and the crowd roars, Midoriya and Noburo lock eyes. He
knows he's at a disadvantage. The style he took from Gran, and therefore the style he's the best at
and the most familiar with, relies on enclosed areas with walls or other solid objects to bounce off
of. Noburo, by contrast, doesn't need anything but a solid floor to work with.
Midoriya rolls his shoulders, and Noburo tenses. The volume rises, even with those basic actions.
He slides a foot back and lowers one arm closer to the ground. He lets One for All creep into his
legs and up his torso and all the way to the tips of his fingers. Once his skin is glowing and
crisscrossed with red lines, he moves.
He goes high, jumping into the air and trailing green light. He preps Float, waking the Quirk so it's
ready for the sharp change in direction that will definitely be rough and wild but should catch her
off guard.
Noburo, however, isn't going to have it. She throws herself on the ground, belly up and spread-
eagle. The largest spike she could manifest is extended from her stomach. Midoriya, not wanting to
be impaled, lets his jump come to a natural end and lands.
The moment his feet touch the ground, he hears the telltale sign of a pair of metal rods piercing the
ground. He spins to the side just in time to dodge an attempted grapple and strikes Noburo's ribs
with his left fist. She stumbles, and Midoriya moves to exploit, but she steadies herself with another
spike too quickly.
They begin to circle, Midoriya making sure that he keeps his right hand, still bandaged tight, closer
to his chest than his left. It might not hurt for the moment, but he'd be an idiot not to realize that
hitting someone with it would hurt, or worse, re-break it.
Midoriya also keeps a close eye on Noburo's stomach. She has a habit of flexing her abdominals a
second or two before she shoots a spike out of her back, and watching an opponent's hip and waist
area is a good idea in general.
After a couple long moments of circling, Midoriya sees it. Noburo flexes her lower abdominals,
and he's immediately kicking off. Five percent isn't enough to catch her off guard, so he pushes to
eight percent and dives right for her legs.
He overshoots slightly, only managing to grab her ankle instead of her lower thigh like he wanted
to, but that's fine. Midoriya plants his feet and pulls, taking Noburo off-balance and dragging her
through the air at about shoulder height.
Instead of immediately slamming her on the hard ground, Midoriya takes a split second to switch
off One for All. It's all Noburo needs. A sharp pain suddenly erupts from his left palm, and
Midoriya pushes Noburo away instinctively and dives away.
He looks at Noburo and sees that she's hurriedly kicking off her shoes, the left one having a large
hole in the sole. Midoriya is torn between breaking down what just happened and looking at his
hand but is forced to study his injury once he feels something drip down his fingertips.
The cut's not bad. Or at least, it isn't since Recovery Girl is a stone's throw away. It's a couple
inches long, running from the base of his index finger all the way to the base of his wrist. It's
somewhat deep, and definitely needs to be bandaged, but…
Noburo is already pressing the attack again, rushing forward with her arms outstretched and spikes
coming from her feet this time. Grimacing, Midoriya moves forward as well, applying six percent
Full Cowling and going high this time.
Desperate to make time to bandage his hand, Midoriya kicks at her chest. Noburo tries to block by
crossing her arms, but the angle makes it impossible, and his foot slams into the center of her chest.
Activating Float mid-leap, Midoriya takes to the air, rising to about twenty feet above the ground.
He rips off a strip of cloth from the bottom of his shirt and hastily ties it around his hand with his
teeth. He lowers himself back down to the ground, a decent distance from Noburo.
Her stance is slightly more wary, now, and there's a large, ugly bruise forming just below her
collarbones. Midoriya is slightly more cautious, too. Noburo has yet to show that she could grow
spikes from her foot, so he could only guess what other tricks she has. It doesn't interfere with his
plan, though, so Midoriya decides to press again.
Instead of going low or high, he aims right for her stomach. Noburo, predictably, stands her ground,
letting a massive spike grow as she takes a stronger stance. Midoriya bounds forward, seemingly
unafraid of being stabbed.
Once he gets within inches of the spike, he sidesteps and grabs her arm. He pulls, dragging her
over his shoulder so she hits the ground face up. Immediately he pulls up again, exploiting her
empty lungs and looping his arms under hers and back up to put his hands on the back of her head.
Midoriya throws her to the ground again, feet first before she can manifest a spike, though much
more gently this time. He makes sure to keep hold of an arm so he can put her in a hold for a pin.
She goes rigid, and a spike breaks through her shoulder, right at Midoriya's face, forcing him to let
go. Separated again, they begin to circle.
Midoriya's mind begins to run wild with theories. Noburo's Quirk originates in the stomach and is
therefore best suited for targets level with her waist. It's an obvious limitation, so it isn't all that
surprising that she's worked around it, but the way she does it is something he can't quite
understand.
Her spikes have to push through her body. It sounds gruesome on paper, but it's actually painless
and doesn't do any damage to the body. However, her organs have to temporarily shut down to
make room for a spike if one passes through. Noburo had even made a show of holding her breath
and pushing a pair out with one passing through a lung and the other going out by her hip. Then she
acted like she was impaled, and Oto laughed so hard water came out his nose.
Every time she'd used her Quirk in the past, it always went through her torso. But is that a rule?
Midoriya needs to find out.
He presses the attack again, winding up to throw a straight punch to the face but backing off once
Noburo steps out of the way. He keeps going, hoping to bait her foot or shoulder trick out again,
but five percent isn't doing it, and neither are his slow punches.
Midoriya backs up, hoping to flick up to eight percent and go for a tackle, but Noburo moves first,
catching him on the back foot and forcing him to dodge a flurry of jabs and spikes as she drives
him back further and further.
He manages to break her attack with a non-superpowered cross to the face and loops around behind
her at top speed.
Midoriya barely catches it. Barely. A pair of spikes, exiting her body from the middle of the back
of her thighs and piercing her ankles to poke out of heels. He immediately knows how she'd been
moving, and a weakness.
While her legs are still locked in place by the spikes, Midoriya attacks again, jumping up and
tackling her. He activates Float and carries her up by her arms, trying to arrange her in the position
he wants. She struggles, doing a sit up midair and nearly poking his eye out, but he dives back
down as though he'll use her as a landing mat. She freezes up, and Midoriya manages to land on his
back so his legs are wrapped around her upper chest with one arm pressed against her ear and the
other pinned to her side.
He leans away, not using his Quirk anymore for safety, tugging on her arm and at the same time
squeezing her ribs and driving her shoulders into the ground.
Noburo fights to break free, pushing along the ground and trying to curl up so she can shoot a spike
out at his face, but it's useless.
Midoriya knows he's won before almost anyone else. In this position, with her shoulders resting on
his hips and pointed away from his body, Noburo can't hit him with a spike without also disrupting
her brain and/or heart, and maybe even her lungs.
"Midoriya has held Noburo in a submissive hold for ten seconds!" Midnight screams into her mic,
barely drowning out the crowd. "Ladies and gentlemen, the winner of UA's first year Sports
Festival!"
He immediately lets her go and helps her up. Midoriya reaches out to shake her hand, and Noburo
takes it. As she pulls him into a hug, patting him on the back, and whispers, "Good fight," in his
ear, Midoriya feels like he's on top of the world.
[x]
"Oi, brat! Get down here and get me and your father some more drinks from the fridge!"
"Fuck off, you damn hag!"
"Don't make me come up there!"
Katsuki shouts back another curse but gets up from his bed anyways. He sets his phone down on
his desk, still open to the live stream of the Third Year UA Sports Festival, though the medal
ceremony is long over.
He walks through the hallway and down the stairs, making sure to stomp extra loud to annoy his
mother. Katsuki doesn't even bother looking at the TV as he enters the kitchen and opens the
fridge. Everyone knows that only the seniors are worth anything, even though most of them had
fuck all talent and B-list Quirks.
"The fuck do you want?" Katsuki barks, scanning the fridge. Like always, it's tidy and stocked full,
with a shelf in one of the doors dedicated exclusively for hot sauce.
"I want a lemonade and you dad wants a ginger ale! And make it fast, I've been sipping on melting
ice cubes for twenty minutes!"
Katsuki pours a glass of lemonade with ice and snatches a can of soda. He walks out to the living
room, intentionally standing directly in front of his mother to block her view of the TV. He hands
his dad the can of soda and ignores the polite thanks.
"And there we have it folks! The top three first years!" Subconsciously, Katsuki turns to look at the
screen, curious to see who'll be the upperclassmen worth keeping an eye on next year.
He nearly drops the glass when he sees him. Green eyes, messy green hair, freckles, and that
stupid fucking smile.
"Been a while since I've heard about Midoriya," his mother says, clearly enjoying the shock on her
son's face. "He certainly grew up. Totally sweeped the events."
Katsuki ignores her, unable to look away from the screen as Deku jokingly bites into his gold
medal. His hand starts to shake, rattling the glass as Explosion itches in his palm. He squeezes the
glass. It shatters.
He doesn't bother to register his mother's screech as she's drenched in lemonade, nor the way a few
shards of glass dig into his hand.
"That fucking liar."
Chapter End Notes
Next chapter: Kacchan and Deku

Kacchan and Deku
Chapter Notes
This one wasn't ment to be over 3.5K, but it wasn't meant to be. Now it's more like
4.5K.
I'm really unsure about it, too. If there's enough negative feedback, I may even delete
it and try again. Anyways, I hope you enjoy.
PS, I'm thinking about getting a beta reader. Let me know if you'd interested in
helping me with editing and stuff. If there's enough interest I'll make a throwaway
discord and post it in the comments.
As of March 30, 2021 this chapter had been edited and reformatted by my beta, flauel.
Midoriya smiles to himself as his foot splashes down into a puddle. The cloudy sky continues to
pour rain as he runs, cooling his body and refreshing him. It's technically his day off, and everyone
he knows has insisted that he stays home and relaxes, especially since the Festival was barely two
days ago.
But he can't sit still for long, and since the gym is locked up, he decided to run.
The watch on his wrist buzzes, letting him know that he's run ten kilometers. He slows to a stop,
taking shelter under the canopy of a shop. Letting his heart rate slow, he thinks. A 10K is usually
his limit, but since he hasn't lifted in a couple of days, going farther won't be too difficult or tiring.
In lieu of a water bottle, he steps out from under the canopy and cups his hands, letting some water
pool in his palms. Some spills, landing on his already soaked t-shirt and splattering on his track
pants. He stares up for a while, letting the rain hit his face and run through his hair.
Then he starts to run again.
Midoriya runs for another two kilometers, not really paying attention to where he's going. He
knows this part of the city like the back of his hand after over a year of morning jogs, so wherever
he ends up, he can make it back home fine.
He's just turned into a narrow alleyway when it happens. Something melds out of the shadows and
shoves him against the wall. One for All activates instinctively, and he pushes back. His assailant
stumbles, but Midoriya doesn't let them recover.
He decks them across the face at one percent before grabbing them by the collar of their hoodie
and pinning them against the wall. Their hands claw at his wrists, but he holds firm and shakes
them a bit. He's just about to readjust his grip so he can call the police, but then he sees it.
A little spike of ash-blond hair peeks out from under the hood. Midoriya feels his heart stop. It
can't be. He quickly releases one of his hands and uses it to shakily pull the hood down.
Red eyes. A shock of spiky blond hair. That all too familiar permanent scowl. A crooked, bloody
nose.
He feels himself go numb. "Bakugo." He drops his attacker.
Midoriya wants nothing to do with whatever he wants.
"Deku," Bakugo growls, taking a swing at him. It's his old right hook Midoriya has seen him use a
thousand times in a thousand schoolyard brawls. He ducks under and turns away.
He starts to walk out of the alley. Bakugo isn't an idiot; he shouldn't do anything out on a public
street. Then again, they'd avoided each other like the plague for years before this, so Midoriya can
only hope.
He's halfway out when he hears. There's a pop pop Crack! and Midoriya turns in time to be blinded
by a blast of light.
[x]
They were never friends. Not truly. Perhaps they may have been close once, but never in a million
years would they have called each other friends willingly. But that didn't mean that they didn't
change each other. In fact, it was quite the opposite.
"Yeah, Kacchan! That's what, ten?" The high-pitched voice of a small black-haired boy echoed
through the near-empty playground, the sound of a rubber ball bouncing trailing behind.
"Psh, try thirty," Kacchan bragged, kicking the ball up with his foot before letting it hit the top of
his head. "This is way too easy. You losers could probably do it, too." He caught the ball on the top
of his foot and lowered it to the ground. The two other boys, one with dark hair and another with
bright red wings, cheered.
"H-hey, could I play?" a timid voice said. Kacchan and his two other friends all turned to look at
another boy, roughly the same size as them, if a bit skinny. He rubbed his arm nervously and
couldn't quite meet their eyes.
"Only if you don't suck," Kacchan said, happy with the prospect of getting another person to mock
or show off to. "Here," he kicked the ball over, and the boy stopped it easily enough. "Get above
ten and we'll have enough for a game of football."
"O-okay," the boy said. He placed one foot on the top of the ball and rolled it back and forth. Then
he flicked his foot back, causing the ball to land on the top of his foot. Tentatively, he began to
juggle, first just using his feet but eventually adding in his thighs as well. At one point he tried to
head it like Kacchan did, but the ball smacked him in the face.
Everyone laughed, including Kacchan and the new boy though he was unsure. "You can play with
us," Kacchan said, "but if you're a crybaby, then you have to leave. Got it?"
"Got it," the boy nodded, a bright smile overtaking his formerly wobbly frown.
The four of them played with the ball for hours and hours, only stopping once the sun began to set.
Right before everyone left for home, one of the boys asked, "What's your name?"
"Oh! I'm Izuku!" he said. "I hope we can play again tomorrow."
They did play the next day. And then the day after that, and the day after that, and every day for all
of summer break. It wasn't all happy games of football, however.
A stone skipped across a river, once, twice, three times, four, five, six, before sinking.
"Wow, Izuku, you're not too bad at this," a boy with draconic red wings said, turning his own stone
over in his hands.
"That's nothing," Kacchan said, picking up his own stone. "Watch this!" The stone was thrown,
hitting the water and bouncing across ten times.
"That's really amazing, Kacchan!" Izuku said, picking up another rock. "I wonder if I can do that."
He threw it and got nine skips.
"Ha, you suck!" Kacchan roughly punched Izuku on the arm. The green-haired boy flinched but
pretended that nothing was wrong.
"But I only got one less than you," Izuku said, kicking a rock into the pond. "And ten skips isn't
even that good! My mom can do twenty."
Kacchan rolled his eyes. "That sounds like something a loser would say." He looked at the other
two boys. "Let's go play heroes in the park. Last one there's the villain!"
"Come on, I bet I can swing higher than you!" Izuku pumped his legs back and forth, easily rising
higher and higher.
"There's no way anyone could go higher than me!" Kacchan replied, rapidly swinging his legs. The
two were at about the same height, and the frame of the old swing set was beginning to teeter.
Feeling afraid, Izuku let his legs drag on the ground, slowing to a stop, and urged the other boy to
do the same. But Kacchan didn't listen.
He continued to swing higher and higher, and once he reached the maximum, he leapt from the
swing and landed in the grass below with a grunt.
"Woah, Kacchan, that was awesome!" Izuku got up from his swing and rushed over.
"Ha, that was nothing," Kacchan brushed him off. "You're just too much of a coward. That's why
you'll never be as good of a hero as me."
"You don't know that." Izuku held firm. "Heroes need caution, too. How can you win if you never
think?"
"You're such a nerd," Kacchan said, taking a playful swing at Izuku with his right hand. "Let's go
do something else before you bore me with your nerdiness."
"... and then they passed a law so Quirkless people could carry tasers! Not many do today, though.
I guess it's just super hard to get one." Izuku carefully climbed up the tree, recounting a
documentary he'd watched the previous night.
"Woah, I never knew that!" one boy exclaimed as he looked up at Izuku. "Where did you hear
about this? They don't tell us about that kinda stuff at daycare."
"Oh, my mom records stuff for me so I can watch them after school! Did you know that twenty
percent of the world is actually Quirkless?" Izuku perched himself on a branch and swung his legs
back and forth.
"No, I didn't!" Tsubasa chimed in. "I don't think I've ever met a Quirkless person, actually."
"Did you know that only, like, half a percent of people in Japan are Quirkless?" Kacchan said from
his branch a couple feet above Izuku. His expression was as condescending as a three year old
could be. "God, that must suck! Can you imagine not having a Quirk? You'd just be a drag on
everyone else!"
"Kacchan, that's mean!" Izuku said forcefully. "Quirkless people matter, too!"
"Pfft, no they don't! Without a Quirk, you're nothing!"
"You're wrong," Izuku insisted. "They matter, even if they're a tiny minority! It said so on the
news!"
Kacchan rolled his eyes. "Yeah right. You can't be a hero without a Quirk, and if you can't be a
hero, or even a villain for the heroes to beat up, then you shouldn't even exist!"
"Kacchan, stop!" Izuku's voice cracked, and he fought back tears. "What you're saying could really
hurt someone!"
"No one cares, Izuku," Kacchan laughed, "not even Quirkless people."
.
"And that one means 'dog!'" Izuku said, pointing to a sloppily-drawn character. It was in a row with
a couple others, mostly the names of prominent heroes and basic nouns.
"You can really read that?" Tsubasa said, looking back and forth between Izuku and the lines in the
sand of the playground.
"Yep! My mom helped me learn them, and now I know what a lot of names mean!" Izuku spun his
stick around in his hand, but it was quickly snatched away.
"I can write kanji too, you know," Kacchan said, hurriedly scratching something into the sand.
"What does that day?" he asked Izuku, as though daring him to guess correctly.
Izuku scrunched up his nose and thought for a bit. "Music," he said after a while. "And I only know
'cause my mom helped me read the newspaper once."
Kacchan kicked away the sand. "Yeah, well, I knew because I'm better than you." He snapped the
stick and tossed it aside. "Not like that's a challenge."
One of the boys snickered and Izuku looked down, refusing to meet anyone's eyes. Kacchan
allowed himself to bask in victory for a moment before going back to look at Izuku's writing. He
saw it. It was almost too perfect.
"Oi, look at this!" He got the attention of everyone there and copied the characters in Izuku's name
with his foot. "You can read Izuku's name as Deku. Do you know what that means?"
Everyone looked at each other, then to Izuku, whose lower lip began to wobble.
"Someone who can't do anything," Izuku mumbled.
Kacchan smirked. "I think it sounds like a great name for you, since you'll never be as good as
me."
It caught on, much to Izuku's annoyance.
And to his despair, it proved to be true.
"Deku, Deku, Deku! Deku, Deku, Deku!" the boys taunted as his rock sank and Kacchan's skipped
twelve times.
"Deku!" They laughed as he fell from a tree that Kacchan had climbed oh so effortlessly.
"Deku sucks," they said as he tripped over a ball he tried to kick.
Izuku tried not to let it get to him. Really, he did. He followed the instructions on the bullying
tutorial videos his mom made him watch after… after that day. He tried to ignore it. Tried asking
them to stop. Tried asserting himself.
But it stayed.
And Izuku began to hate his own name.

.
The first day of school arrived, much to the disappointment of everyone. They'd all be going to the
same elementary school, which was great because they all went to different daycares.
Great for some people, anyways.
When Kacchan first got to school on day one, he was eager to squash Deku like he usually did. But
didn't see him at all. Not during homeroom, when the teachers all made them introduce themselves.
Not during lunch, even everyone who had a Quirk showed off. Not during recess, where Kacchan
won the race to see who was the fastest boy.
In fact, Kacchan didn't see Deku until after school, when they all met up in the park. Deku was
already kicking a ball around with the other two extras who Kacchan let follow him around. They
were all laughing, mostly at Deku for failing a trick Kacchan had done easily the day before.
Kacchan marched right up to Izuku. "Where were you?" he said, getting up in his face.
Izuku had the audacity to look confused before he made a noise of realization. "Oh, I'm a year
older than you! Sorry for not sharing. I just kinda forgot…"
Kacchan stared for a while, feeling slightly betrayed. Then, he smirked.
"Oh my god, you're a full year older then me and you still suck everything! You really are a
Deku!"
It was funny, really. Kacchan didn't think about Deku's Quirk until he got his.
Explosion was an amazing power, everyone said so. Mom, dad, the doctors, his teachers, even
Deku, who gushed and gushed about it until Kacchan blasted him in the face and made him cry.
But Deku never talked about or showed his Quirk. Ever. Not when Tsubasa, who got his on the last
day of daycare before summer break, glided down from trees. Not when they played heroes. Not
when they talked about what happened on the news last night. And certainly not when they
skipped rocks or played soccer.
Did Deku even have a Quirk? He was a year older, so he had to have one. So why did he hide it?
Was it because it was a bad Quirk?
Kacchan asked one day after school. He walked right up to him, and said, "What's your Quirk?"
Deku froze and started to shake a bit. Kacchan roughly smacked him on the shoulder and repeated
himself.
"I… I don't..." Deku couldn't meet Kacchan's eyes for a while. "My Quirk is too destructive!" he
shouted at the floor. "I can't… I can't use it without hurting someone, so I hide it."
"Then what is it?"
"I can't tell you. It's… it could hurt you."
It was a lie.
There was no way it wasn't.
If Deku's Quirk was that awesome, then he'd share at the first opportunity.
Therefore Deku's Quirk must’ve been weaker than weak.
The thought filled Kacchan with satisfaction, and he went home that day feeling great.
But the feeling didn't last. Deku didn't lie. He never did. Even when it would be easier to tell a lie,
he always told the truth. So maybe his Quirk was super powerful, and better than Kacchan's. The
thought made him feel sick.
Deku couldn't be better than Kacchan. It went against the laws of the universe.
But what if…
He had to know.
"Do you know Deku?"
"Who's that?"
"He's really small and has green hair and eyes. He's also kind of a crybaby. You're in his grade."
"Oh! You mean Quirkless Midoriya!"
"Quirkless..?"
"Ha, yeah. That loser doesn't have a Quirk. Or any friends. He sucks at everything so he plays with
these daycare kids all the time. Hey, wait, are you Kacchan? You look like the kid he describes
when he says he has friends."
"My name's Katsuki, and I am not friends with Deku!"
"Oh my god, you totally are. How does it feel to be friends with a Quirkless loser?"
"We're not friends! And you have to prove it to me that Deku doesn't have a Quirk!"
"There's this card he carries around all the time so people know he's Quirkless. It's got his picture
on it. It's really easy to steal, just shove him back and grab his pocket."
"And you're sure that Deku is Quirkless?"
"Oh yeah, Midoriya is definitely Quirkless. Or maybe I should start calling him Deku now…"
.
Katsuki didn't know what to do. Either Deku was a liar, or the whole first grade was playing a
prank on him. But he wasn't an idiot. He knew which one was more all the more likely. Still, he
had to know.
"Show us your Quirk. Now!"
Deku flinched as Katsuki yelled at him. "Y-you know I can't," he insisted weakly. "You might get
hurt!"
"I don't care! Show me now!" Katsuki shoved Deku against the fence, and let off a few small
explosions for good measure.
"Kacchan, that's really mean," Tsubasa said nervously. "You can't just do that to people."
"My name's Katsuki! And shut up, everyone in his grade says he doesn't have a Quirk. I need to
know who's messing with me."
"I'm not messing with you, Kacchan!" Deku cried, trying to break out of Katsuki's grip. "I have a
Quirk!"
"Then show me!"
"No!"
"Do it now or I'll blast your face off!"
"I can't!"
"Why not, huh? Why can't you?"
"I… I… I'm..."
Katsuki shoved him into the chain-link fence again. "You're what? Quirkless? Spit it out!"
Deku couldn't speak. He didn't want to tell. Didn't want to admit. So instead, he fought back.
Katsuki screamed, high-pitched and loud as Deku bit into his hand. The little blond boy was
shoved back hard. He hit the ground.
"Get away from me!" Deku yelled, voice hoarse. "You're so mean! All I wanted were friends!"
Tears began to streak down his face. "And you ruined it! I… I hate you!"
"So you are Quirkless," Katsuki said, nursing his bitten hand.
"Yeah, I am!" Deku puffed out his chest with false bravado. "I'm Quirkless. And there's nothing
wrong with that. My mom says so!"
"Your mom's a filthy liar, just like you," Katsuki snarled, getting back up from where he fell.
"Shut up!" Deku backed up into the fence as he tried to get away. "I… Get back or I'll hit you!"
Katsuki scoffed. "Like that'll do anything. What good are fists when I've got this!" His hands
cracked, releasing waves of heat and light into the surrounding air.
After that day, whatever tiny traces of a friendship they may have had, died.
They didn't see each other for a while after that. Elementary school passed with bullying and
insults for one, and playground scraps and praise for the other.
But once middle school hit, they met again.
Izuku knew that Bakugo wasn't really a bully once he got into sixth grade. Bakugo was loud, brash,
and full of himself, yes, but he never went out of his way to mock or hurt one person in particular.
But Bakugo liked to brawl. A lot. Kids from all grades lined up to take their turn at fighting with
him. And he was always victorious.
Izuku watched every single one of his fights, waiting. Bakugo wasn't a bully. But he was horrible,
and sometimes, he went too far.
A kick slammed into the ribs of the downed boy as laughter filled the forest. The boy rolled a
couple of feet, then got up, groaning in pain all the while. He tried to activate his Quirk, which was
just simple plant manipulation, but a fist full of fire nailed him in the chest. He went down.
Above him, Bakugo stood proud. He kicked the boy in the face. "What's the matter? You were
talking so much shit earlier, but now you're crying like a little bitch." Another kick, another groan
of pain. The surrounding students laughed. "You're almost in highschool, and I kicked your ass.
God, you're worthless. I should—" Bakugo never got to finish his sentence.
Something slammed into the victor's side, knocking him over. Bakugo growled, immediately
getting back up.
"Deku," he spat. Izuku forced himself not to flinch.

"You've already won, Bakugo. Stop hurting him."
"Or what?"
Izuku bit his lip, then raised his fists. The people who had come to watch all snickered and made a
couple of jokes. Izuku pretended not to hear.
"You're an idiot," Bakugo said, setting off a few small explosions in his palms, "but someone has
to teach you a lesson!"
By the time it was over, Izuku had a black eye and a burned arm. If anything, he got off easy
compared to all the other times he stepped in.
Izuku rose from his fetal position on the grass and turned. He offered a hand to the boy Bakugo
fought, hoping to help him up. The boy only slapped his hand away and spat on Izuku's shoes
before walking off.
It was just a normal Friday.
There wasn't a single time Deku didn't stand up for bullied people. Katsuki knew everything that
went on at Aldera, and every day there was another instance of that liar poking around where he
shouldn't, like an idiot. Didn't he know that the strong got the privilege to push around the weak?
Apparently not, because he never stopped. Ever.
It even got to the point where almost all of the bullying just ended because it became such a chore
to deal with him. Even Katsuki stopped fighting as much because of it. Or maybe there were less
fights because everyone knew who the best was. Katsuki preferred that theory.
Deku graduated middle school at the top of his class. Everyone, Katsuki included, picked on his
whole grade for getting lower scores than Deku of all people. No one bothered to tell Deku himself
about it, though. The idiot would have made a scene.
When Deku left Aldera to attend whatever D-list highschool he lied his way into, no one really
cared. No one made a comment about how it was a relief that he was gone, or about how shitty his
life must be. Fighting and bullying started right back up like he was never even there.
It was almost poetic. Deku made as big of an impact on the school as he would on the world. None
at all.
Then Katsuki saw him on TV and everything went white-hot.
[x]
A fist slams into Izuku's stomach. He doubles over, and he blindly holds an arm out to try and keep
Bakugo away. It doesn't work, and instead he's dragged back into the alley.
Bakugo grabs Izuku by the throat, shoving him against a wall. "Where the fuck did you get that
Quirk!" he screams, spit flying from his mouth. "Or have you always had it?"
Izuku replies by socking Bakugo in the face. The blond boy is forced back, and Izuku pushes the
advantage. He throws a couple more punches to the abdomen, ducking and weaving around
explosions as he drives Bakugo to the opposite wall.
Bakugo screeches and launches himself forward in an explosion-powered tackle. Midoriya takes
the hit, letting himself fall to the ground. The two roll and tumble, trading punches. It's even, for all
of three seconds.
Izuku has done nothing but build up muscle mass for over a year. He's gone through intensive
training, unorthodox exercises, and fought Gran Torino—one of, if not the fast pro alive—every
day for months.
Bakugo ends up pinned to the ground in seconds. Izuku makes sure to hold his hands together so
Bakugo can't use his Quirk without blowing them off. Izuku straddles him, too, keeping their faces
as far apart as possible while weighing down his body.
"What do you want," Izuku says, ignoring how Bakugo's feet kicked out wildly behind him.
"Get the fuck off me before I beat your ass!"
"Only if you won't attack me when I walk away." Izuku tightens his grip on Bakugo's hands.
"Piss off! I'll beat you into the dirt just like I used to until you tell me the truth! Where did you get
it!" He tries to sit up, but Izuku forces his shoulders into the hard concrete. "How the fuck did you
get a power that's better than mine!?"
A tiny, near non-existent part of Izuku considers it for a moment. He remembers two kids laughing
and joking as they kicked a ball around and played on the swings.
He brushes it aside easily.
"I manifested it late," Izuku lies.
"That's bullshit! Quirks come in at four!"
"Well, mine didn't. Are we done here?" Izuku doesn't bother to hide the callousness in his voice.
"The fuck we are! You owe me an explanation!"
Izuku freezes. "Owe you…" His hands let loose, and Bakugo sets off an explosion in his face. He
goes flying back into a wall.
Bakugo presses forward, but Izuku's had enough. He lets One for All out and hits Bakugo as hard
as he can in the chest. His attacker falls to the ground, wheezing.
"I don't owe you shit ," Izuku says, shaking from head to toe. "All you've been… all you've done is
make me hurt! And you think I owe you anything!?" Bakugo tries to say something, but all that
comes out are chokes and gasps.
"I can't even look at you." Izuku kicks the ground, sending chips of cement flying and tearing the
sole of his shoe. "How entitled. How… how self-centered do you have to be! Even if there was a
big secret—which there isn't—the last person on Earth I'd tell is you!"
Bakugo gets up unsteadily. There are tears in his eyes now, but he doesn't bother to wipe them as
he attacks again.
Izuku knocks him down without his Quirk and grinds his face into the pavement. Bakugo bites
helplessly at his shoe, desperate to keep fighting.
"I hope you fail as a hero so I don't have to see you ever again!"
"I was going to say the same!"
Izuku steps off of Bakugo and turns around. He takes three steps to the exit.
"I'm gonna get into UA and show everyone how much of a wimp and a liar you are," Bakugo sobs.
"And I'll be a better hero than you could ever imagine."
Izuku keeps walking, all the way home. He never once looks back.
Chapter End Notes
Next Chapter: What's in a Name?

What's in a Name?
Chapter Notes
Izuku doesn't run for the rest of the week. It's an irrational fear, he knows. Bakugo wouldn't try
anything after that.
Izuku might not run the rest of the week, but all he can think about is what happened.
He beat Bakugo and left him in a dirty alley with a broken nose and tearstained eyes. He ground his
face into the hard, unforgiving pavement. That isn't even mentioning the last punch, which
could've cracked his ribs or sternum, or worse.
The thought leaves a bitter taste in Izuku's mouth. He hurt someone, terribly, worse than what
Bakugo ever did to him. And part of Izuku liked it, enjoyed how therapeutic it felt to knock
Bakugo down a peg after everything that he had done.
After all the times Izuku had been burned, beaten, and left to pick up his own pieces, should he
really feel bad about getting revenge and evening the field?
Bits of him say no, and that Bakugo got what was coming. The rest of him feels shame for hurting
a civilian as a hero in training, even if he was the one being attacked. The cognitive dissonance
hinders him for days. He doesn't go out other than for training at the gym. Instead, he stays in all
day and lies in bed, thinking. A lot of the thoughts are uncomfortable. In fact, most of them are.
Was it right to leave Bakugo in the alley?
Why was Bakugo angry, and why did he feel entitled to an explanation?
How did Izuku lose control of his emotions back there? Because he definitely wasn't thinking
straight.
Why does Izuku feel pity for Bakugo?
Should Izuku try to contact him and settle everything?
Could everything even be settled?
Does Izuku want to settle everything?
Is Izuku a bad person now?
Why can't he stop thinking about it?
In the end, Izuku does nothing. Like a coward. Somehow, he figures that he'd rather take a million
explosions to the face than let his emotions settle into an uncomfortable equilibrium. But that
doesn't change his decision.
The morning he's due back to school, Izuku wakes up before his alarm. All Might had said that he
could take it easy until the internship because whatever agency he winds up at would undoubtedly
work him hard.
Slipping out of bed and killing his alarm before it sounds, Izuku hastily checks his phone for any
notifications. There was a drug bust last night, according to one of the news apps he had. Fifteen
arrests. There were no new hero debuts while he was asleep.
Walking out to the kitchen, Izuku hears his mom switch on the radio, likely in reaction to his door
opening. The sound of a slow but cheerful classical piece flits through the room as Izuku pulls back
a chair and sits at the table.
"Good morning, sweetie," his mother says, looking over her shoulder as she cuts up a banana. "The
usual breakfast or something light, like yesterday?"
"Something light," Izuku says. He'd much rather eat as little as possible since the pit in his stomach
is already filling him up plenty. His mother looks a bit worried, so he rushes to make an excuse. "I
haven't been working out as hard, remember? I'll be doing regular exercises today, though, so I'll
have my usual dinner."
His mother still looks a bit worried but continues to prep breakfast. "You know, I passed out when
I saw the medal ceremony." Her voice has a fond tint, and she sighs, "I had just remembered when
you and I watched the Sports Festival for the first time. Or I guess I mean your first time, and then
I saw you up there, and..." She trails off, eyes now watery with happy tears.
Izuku smiles. "Sounds like you were more excited than I was." He looks to the far wall where a
gold medal—an actual, pure gold medal—hangs from a hook, dangling by its red and white ribbon.
The sight warms his heart.
"Don't mock your mother, honey," Mom says, looking at the medal, too. "It's not very polite, and if
I remember correctly, you jumped up and down and nearly fell off your platform!"
Izuku colors red. Noburo had gotten a laugh out of that and texted him all week about how she
wished she had a video of it in her phone because the one taken live by the news crews was from
too far away. "I was just really excited, that's all!" he sputters. "And the medal is really cool, too! I
mean, have you seen the engravings on it?"
His mom chuckles. "You only talked about it for three hours." She turns and walks over to set a
plate of eggs and fruit on the table in front of him. A matching one is placed on the other side, and
she sits down. "It is super cool, though," she agrees.
They eat breakfast in silence, letting the radio fill the apartment with noise. It's comfortable, unlike
the nauseating lack of noise that's permeated Izuku's room all week. Once they finish eating, they
do the dishes together. Then Izuku goes to his room and changes into his uniform. He's just about
to walk out the door, backpack slung over one shoulder, when his mom stops him.
"Your tie is awful," she says, undoing the knot. "You've been going to UA for months now, and
you still don't know how to tie a tie. I should've sent you to a middle school with a uniform that has
one."
Izuku looks away, tapping his foot, the bottom of the shoe still torn from the other day. "I don't
think that would've helped, Mom. I already know how to tie a tie, but it just never comes out
right!"
His mother finishes tying the knot and playfully swats his chest. "Sweetie, I watched you fly, fly on
national television last week. I think that you could learn how to tie a knot if you put your mind to
it."
"Maybe," Izuku says, turning around and opening the door. "I've gotta get to the train now. See you
later!"
His mother grabs the crook of his arm, stopping him. Izuku looks back to see that her face is a
conflicted mix of worry and doubt. "I don't know what happened on your run Wednesday," she
begins. Izuku rushes to deny, but he's cut off. "Don't lie, honey. You're terrible at it. Something
happened, you've been mopey recently, and… you don't have to tell me what, but I want you to
know that I am here. And I will never not be proud of you."
Izuku swallows. "Mom, I…"
She gently pushes him out the door. "I love you. Now go before we both start to cry."
Izuku doesn't cry, but it's a close thing. His eyes sting all the way to the station, but not a single tear
falls. He swipes his pass, walks to the train that takes him to U.A every morning, and boards. It's
packed like usual, so he leans against a pole instead of taking a seat.
The doors close, and the train begins to pull away. The man next to Izuku must've been startled by
the sudden movement because he half falls onto and half pushes against him.
"Sorry!" the man says, looking down at Izuku. "Wasn't paying attention, my bad."
Izuku waves him off. "It's okay."
"Hey, aren't you that kid who won the Sports Festival?" the man asks, looking over Izuku's face.
"You look just like him, though he was kinda plain."
"Y-yeah, that's me," Izuku says. He begins to fidget.
"Really? That's awesome!" another person behind Izuku chimes in. They stand from their seat and
pat their school uniform down, looking for something. "Can I have your autograph? Just as soon as
I find a pen, of course."
"Um, sure." Izuku unslings his backpack from his shoulder. He forces down the heat that so
desperately wants to rise into his cheeks. "I think I have a blank notebook and a marker in here.
Give me a second!" He digs through his bag for what feels like hours, trying to not look at anyone
the whole while. His hands start to sweat, and he can feel heat creeping up his neck despite his
efforts because God above, he's signing his first autograph.
"Got it!" Izuku stammers, holding up what was supposed to be his sixteenth hero notebook, though
it's blank for the time being, and a black sharpie.
"Sweet!" the person in the school uniform says. "Just write your name and the date, okay? I don't
need anything special."
"A-alright." Izuku carefully opens the notebook and uncaps the sharpie. The rocking of the train
would make his handwriting sloppy, so should he hold the notebook against something? And how
should he write his name? All good heroes had a stylized signature, should he try to mimic that?
Or maybe because he's still a student, he should stick to something basic?
In the end, the signature turns out like it usually does when he puts his name on assignments;
choppy and bold, but still readable. He tags a little smiley face on at the end and scribbles the date
in the corner before tearing off the page and handing it over. "H-here you go," Izuku says, nervous
about how it'll be received.
The person smiles wide. "Thanks, man! This'll go good with my collection." They carefully fold
the paper into quarters and tuck it into their jacket pocket.
Izuku breathes a sigh of relief and returns to his position leaning against the pole. He looks around
and sees that nearly everyone in the train car is looking at him.
The man who bumped into him coughs. "I don't suppose you could sign something for me, too?"
By the time the train stops, Izuku has signed twenty leaves of paper. Not everyone wants an
autograph. He's still in training, and even Sports Festival winners don't always make a big impact
on the hero scene. Nearly everyone on the train wishes him luck with his career, though, which
feels just as good as signing a piece of paper to Izuku.
The two block walk from the station to the gates of U.A is quick, as is the walk through the halls.
He's the first one to walk through 1-A's massive door, and he takes his seat before getting out his
notebook. Having nothing better to do, Izuku decides to write down notes on Snipe's Quirk, which
is fascinating in its own right.
He gets maybe three paragraphs down before the door swings open again. Looking up, Izuku sees
Noburo walk in with a ridiculously large smile, the kind where he knows she's seen something
that's a mix of amazing and funny.
"Look at this," she says instead of a greeting. Her phone is quickly placed on Izuku's desk. On-
screen is a picture or a still frame from the festival. It's the final pin position Izuku used to win.
Both he and Noburo are obviously straining against each other, and in the background stands
Aizawa, who's watching with one of his juice pouches in hand.
There's also text. Over Izuku and Noburo, Me and my cousin, fighting to the death, is written, and
over Aizawa my older brother.
"What?" Izuku asks, not quite getting it.
"It's a meme, Midoriya," Noburo says, halfway between exasperation and condescending. "They
made memes out of the Sports Festival. You're in, like, three of them."
Izuku blinks. "Really?"
Noburo nods vigorously. "Oh yeah, really. Here." She swipes her phone, and a new picture is
shown. It's split down the middle, with the top one being Izuku looking worried as a mob of
students rush him at the end of the second round, and the bottom showing him with his fingers
extended and a rush of air knocking back his enemies, who all wear matching expressions of
horror and regret. His typical feral smile is present on his face.
"Call an ambulance… but not for me?" Izuku looks up to Noburo, confused.
She shrugs. "I never said that they were good memes, just that we were in them. Cool, huh?"
Izuku smiles, a little amused at the situation. "Yeah, it's pretty cool." She shows a couple more
pictures, mostly of him or him and her. Some are funny, like the gif of them biting their medals, or
the one where Izuku is diving on top of the Gen Ed student who stole his points in the first round.
Others are cool, like the one where Izuku's throwing the one thousand point sword into a crowd of
students, or where he's carefully bandaging his hand midair.
"Were you recognized this morning?" Noburo asks after a while, taking her seat to Izuku's left. She
props her feet up on his desk like always.
Izuku flushes. "Yeah. They even asked me for my autograph!"
“Nice." Noburo slips her phone in the pocket of her uniform skirt. "I signed a couple, but most
people just congratulated me. I did take pictures with a couple elementary school girls, though."
"That was really nice of you," Izuku compliments. "You probably made their day. If I was asked
for a picture I probably couldn't have done it without embarrassing myself."
"Nah, you would've been fine," Noburo disagrees. "You might've been a bit red faced, but whatever
picture you're in would be great."
Izuku chuckles, flustered at the praise. "I'm not so sure..."
Noburo rolls her eyes. "Forget I said anything. Did you do anything else with your days off?"
Izuku freezes, feeling himself go pale. "I, uh… not… not really?" he squeaks out. Noburo looks
like she desperately wants to pry, but Izuku avoids looking her in the eye, and seconds later, the
door opens.
"Good morning, Mr. Aizawa," the two students say instinctively. Their teacher mutters a quick
greeting back before standing at the front of the room.
"The first thing I want to say is good job at the Sports Festival," he says cutting right to the chase.
"I expected you both to place high, but I was pleasantly surprised at your tactics and innovative
uses of your Quirks." Aizawa locks eyes with each of them in turn. "That being said, there's always
more to improve on, which is what we'll be focusing on for the next three days. After that,
however, are the internships." He raises his hand, which is holding a remote, and clicks it. Behind
him, a screen flashes to life.
Offers:
Midoriya Izuku: 5,672
Noburo Mai: 4,973
"Obviously, there's usually a lot less offers per person," Aizawa says, ignoring the shocked looks of
his students. "But due to this year's… unique circumstances, this isn't a surprise. Now"—he
reaches under his podium and pulls out two overly thick binders before handing them out—"these
are all of the offers in writing, along with basic stats about each agency. You'll have today and
tomorrow to look through and choose. I don't have to say that you should be careful with your
picks."
Izuku's only half-aware as he flicks through his binder. There are only fifteen thousand individual
hero agencies in Japan. If five thousand sent him an offer then that meant… that meant…
"Yes, it's all very exciting," Aizawa huffs, conjuring his sleeping bag out of nowhere. "But there's
another thing we have to focus on first. Codenames."
"Aw, hell yeah!" Noburo flicks her binder shut. "I've been waiting for this since forever. What
about you?"
"S-same," Izuku admits. Though looking back, the names he came up with in the past were all
parodies or obvious homages to All Might. Considering One for All, none are usable.
"Yes, yes, get excited." Aizawa slips into his bag and zips it up. "The principal says that I'm not
qualified to help you pick names, so you two can bug someone else for a while. Have fun."
As if on cue, the door immediately slides open. "He's talking about me of course!" Midnight says,
walking through the door with her hands behind her head. "I'm UA's very own expert in hero
names and costumes, you know. Quite fitting, huh?"
Izuku and Noburo exchange glances and shrug. Midnight waltzes up to the podium and wastes no
time getting to work. "Now, usually we have our students write their names on whiteboards and
present them in front of the class for me to judge. We can't do that, so you two will get something
different!" She takes the remote Aizawa left and clicks it again. The screen changes to blank white
with simple black text that reads What's in a Name?
"A lesson on hero names!" Midnight explains eagerly, cracking her whip for dramatic effect.
"Nothing too boring or drawn out, I promise, but I find that it's important to know what makes up a
good hero name."
The lesson is really informative, Izuku finds. Midnight uses a bunch of familiar names, both
modern and old, and breaks them down. The gist is that a solid hero name worked their Quirk or an
aspect of their Quirk into it, or found a way to describe their type of hero work, or even played off
their personality. A name doesn't have to have all of the qualities, but it’s recommended that they
use two at least. Midnight also stresses that a name that’s easy to pronounce is best, along with
being easy to remember if you want to be popular. They also go over taglines, which, while not
necessary, are great for categorizing oneself.
"Right, do you guys have any ideas?" Midnight says, leaning against the wall. "There's no rush, we
have tomorrow as well. I'd just like to get an idea of what you're going for."
"I'm thinking about something involving spikes or pointy objects," Noburo says, tapping her nails
on her desk. "And I definitely want to sound strong."
Midnight nods. "That's a good start. You should write down any ideas you have and sit on them for
a while. Look back at them later and see what you like or dislike. Do you have any now?" Noburo
shakes her head. "Alright. What about you, Midoriya?"
Izuku frowns, tapping his pen against his notebook. If he were normal, then something that labeled
him as a strength-based hero would be ideal. But his Quirk is the opposite of normal, and truthfully,
Izuku is starting to agree with Gran and All Might that he should find his own path. The Sports
Festival only reinforced that idea, since he won by using his head, like in the second and third
round, or flying, like the first.
"Midoriya?" Midnight says again, a little amused.
Izuku flinches. "No, I don't have any ideas."
Midnight cocks her head. "None at all? Surely you came up with some when you were younger."
"T-those are definitely out of the question." The last thing Izuku wants is for people to know that
he used to (and still does) dream of being called All Might Jr.
"That's alright." Midnight looks down at Aizawa who's still sleeping and gives the homeroom
teacher a nudge. He doesn't stir. She looks back at Izuku. "What kind of hero do you want to be?"
"What… kind?"
"Yeah, you know, a sexy type, a smart type, a tough type, a reliable type, whatever." Midnight
forward leans on the podium. "Noburo is clearly leaning towards the tough and reliable type, but
you? I'm not so sure what sort of hero you'll be. So tell me, what kind of hero do you want to be?"
Izuku thinks. And remembers.
The day he met All Might, before he agreed to take One for All. The electric villain, threatening a
young heroine. The squad of heroes, who wouldn't move. His frustration at watching their lack of
action. The need for someone, anyone to do something. The despair when people realized that no
one would. The relief of All Might rushing in.
"... A hero that can do anything. A hero that… that can look at any situation and immediately know
what to do. Who can reassure people because everyone knows that they're ready for anything and
everything. Someone who'll never waver, never hesitate. That's what I want to be. The Can Do
Hero…" Izuku fades out at the end, unsure. The room falls silent.
"That was really good, dude," Noburo finally says. She looks at Izuku with a sort of starry
expression.
"Yes, I quite agree," Midnight says, her smile stretching from ear to ear. "I just love that passion! If
you can come up with something catchy for the end, then I think you'll have the perfect hero name!
No offence to your classmate, of course."
"None taken," Noburo says, also smiling.
"Thanks." Izuku bows his head, grateful for the compliments. "I'll have to do some thinking, but I'll
try to come up with something."
The rest of homeroom is spent as a study hall. Midnight wishes them both luck with finding names
before leaving, and Izuku and Noburo do some English work together. When it's time for them to
leave for a hand-to-hand combat class, they pack up and leave quietly as not to disturb Mr. Aizawa.
Izuku never notices how Eraserhead keeps one eye open to watch him, and how the sleeping bag
hides a small, near imperceptible smile.
[x]
"How did you pick your hero name?" Young Midoriya asks, taking care to not lose his rhythm as
he floor presses a pair of dumbbells.
Toshinori sets his book down in his lap and looks up. "I put a lot of thought into it, actually. It
wasn't a spontaneous thing, like some heroes I know of."
"Could you explain how your thought process went for me?" Midoriya holds his weights up and
looks over. "I'm… stuck on picking one for myself, so..."
Toshinori smiles. "I understand. Naming yourself is never easy, especially when you're planning to
be a pillar of society.
"I knew I needed to sound omnipresent, so in my first brainstorming session, I had a lot of names
with all, any, and half of the word infinite mixed in. I also knew I needed people to recognize my
strength, so I tried a lot of tough-sounding words. I probably thought about everything for weeks,
but one day I was flipping through an English dictionary and I saw it. The word Almighty. As you
can guess, it was quickly changed to All Might, and the rest is history."
Midoriya continues to move the weights up and down, a thoughtful look on his face as his muscles
contract and expand. "I'm not sure if something like that would work for me. I want people to
know I'm always there, but I can't see myself with a name like that, you know? And our secret only
makes it a better decision."
"I understand." Toshinori nods. "My hero name is completely different from my master's, after all."
He smiles softly, reminiscing.
"What was her hero name?" Midoriya asks. He's always been interested in Nana, occasionally
asking about her at times like this.
"Rhea," Toshinori says, always happy to talk about her. "Like the mother of the gods, bringer of
hope and protector of families."
"What kind of hero was she?" Midoriya carefully sets his weights on the floor and stands to change
lifts.
"A happy one. The sort that could smile in any situation, no matter how dire. She had a presence
that could calm anyone and everyone, even if she never cracked the top one hundred." Toshinori
watches as his successor stretches a resistance band around his back and gets on the floor to do
push-ups. "What kind of hero do you want to be?"
"Dependable," Midoriya answers instantly, dipping down and back up. "Ready for everything.
Someone who you can count on. And soothing, too, I guess. And a symbol like you are, but I'm not
sure I have the right personality for it."
"My boy, how different are Yagi Toshinori and All Might?"
Midoriya continues to do his pushups, thinking. "Very," he answers after a while. "There's
similarities, but you're almost two completely different people. If I didn't know your secret, then I
wouldn't suspect."
"Exactly," Toshinori says, "I play a character everytime I buff up. Aspects of Yagi seep into All
Might, obviously, but for the most part, it's an act. The smile, the poses, nearly everything iconic
about All Might isn't present in Yagi Toshinori. And that's perfectly fine."
"So I should try to act while in costume, too?" Midoriya looks up from the ground at him.
"Not necessarily, but I know it helped me get over my nerves and fit into my hero name, especially
when I was younger. What's important is that you do what's comfortable." Toshinori picks his book
back up and continues to read. "I hope I helped."
"You did!" Midoriya insists. "Every piece of your advice makes it better. I still need some time to
think, though."
"Don't overthink it," Toshinori suggests, flipping a page. "If you spend too long staring at the same
thing, then you'll never notice when it changes. It'll come to you, I'm sure."
"Me too."
[x]
"How did you pick your hero name?" Midoriya asks, tailing his teacher. Aizawa tosses his empty
jelly packet into the bin and walks out of the classroom.
"It was given to me by a close friend," he answers truthfully. Midoriya looks thoughtful and turns
the opposite way to leave campus. Hopefully he picks one soon. Names are almost due.
[x]
"How did you pick your hero name?"
"I wanted something short and sweet, so it'd stick in everyone's mind. I also needed something aim-
related, so I picked Snipe."
[x]
"Oh, with extreme difficulty! Took me three tries, but I went with Present Mic to remind myself to
always speak up. If you're asking for advice, mine would be to take it slow. Your first pick doesn't
have to be your last."
[x]
"I didn't pick so much as always know what it was going to be. I watched that old Ghostbusters
movie the day before I made my first clone, and I fell in love with the word 'Ectoplasm,' even more
so when I saw how it was similar to how my Quirk works. Ever since that realization, I knew it
would be my name."
[x]
"Gran, how did you choose your hero name?"
Sorahiko chews thoughtfully on a bite of hot pastry. "I've always had grey hair. Ever since I came
out of the womb, I had the same shade as my granddad. Luckily, I've yet to get his hairline." He
chuckles. "But that's not the point. Kids are mean bastards. I know Toshi got a lot of shit for being
Quirkless, and you probably did, too—"
"All Might was Quirkless!?"
"Yes, but don't interrupt!" The kid closes his mouth and resumes his thoughtful expression.
"Anyways, you two numbskulls were probably bullied, but so was I. Not anything bad, just some
teasing. The kids all used to call me Grandpa Torino, and it drove me nuts every time someone
said it. If you wanted to pick a fight with a teenage me, then saying that name was the way to go,
even all the way through high school. Especially high school, I should say, since I went to a real
shitty one.
"Y'know, I never actually went to an official hero school. I just used an old warehouse for training
and fought for cash a lot. A real delinquent, I was—don't be like me. When I finally got good
enough to take a licensing exam, they needed a name to take in. I didn't have one ready. The lady
at the desk got all pissy with me when I took too long and told me to just take a name and make it
mine.
He pauses, drinking in Midoriya's expression. It's focused, and Sorahiko can practically see the
gears turning in his head. "I'm usually not one for metaphors, deeper meaning, or any of that
philosophical junk, but that phrase has always stuck with me. Take a name and make it mine, she
said. So I did. I put down Gran Torino, and made that my name. No one could ever use it to insult
me again, because it's mine, and I decide how it's used. That answer your question?"
The kid looks starstruck and foggy-eyed. "Yeah, it definitely did." He blinks and starts to talk
rapidly as he stands. "I need to go home now, is that okay? I just have an idea. A really really good
idea, and it's all thanks to your advice, so thanks and—!"
"Do what ya need to do, kid." Sorahiko props his feet up. "This is clearly more important than
theory lessons with me." The kid nods, thanking him again before rushing off.
Sorahiko smirks to himself. He definitely has a good idea. Hopefully the name isn't anything
stupid.
[x]
Izuku slams open the door of the apartment building, thanking whatever deities there might be that
his mother isn't home. He rushes through his home, hanging up his jacket and slipping off his
shoes as he makes a beeline for the bathroom. Stepping in and locking the door, he looks in the
mirror.
He looks like he always does—green eyes and hair that's a bit too shaggy and long at the moment,
freckles, a small nose. His cheeks have slimmed recently, and his jawline is better pronounced.
Whether it's due to regular growth or the buildup of muscle, he doesn't care. He's not here to
scrutinize his appearance. He's here to claim a name.
The idea had popped into his head as soon as Gran had finished his story. At the time, Izuku felt
like it was the only name for him. But now he planned to make sure.
Looking directly at the reflection of his eyes, Izuku says it, barely above a whisper. He cringes
when it leaves his mouth, the sound so derogatory, so harsh. But he pushes on.
He says it again, louder this time. He doesn't cringe, but his stomach churns and his eye twitches.
Again, almost at a normal speaking voice. The weight in his stomach lessens.
Another time, said as loud as if he were talking to his friends in the lunchroom. The weight
disappears.
Once more, almost a shout. It feels… good. Fulfilling.
He says it again, yelling this time. It makes him feel strong, like he's better than the name.
Another, and another, and another, until he's screaming at the top of his lungs and his voice is
hoarse. He never looks away from the mirror. When he finally stops, Izuku smiles. The name is his
now. No one will ever use it to hurt him again.
[x]
Aizawa silently strolls through the halls of U.A, coffee mug in hand. He usually wouldn't drink or
eat in front of students, but last night he had to complete the lengthy paperwork required for his
students to attend internships, so he made an exception.
The door to 1-A is open, like usual, and the voices of the two kids are floating through the air, like
usual. Aizawa walks in, not bothering to mask his presence.
"Good morning, sir!" they say. He greets them back and occupies the corner. He takes a sip of his
drink.
"I trust you both have codenames ready?" Aizawa looks them over critically, noting how
Midoriya's shoulders are set firm. They both say yes. "Good, Midnight will be here any second
now. Hopefully she approves them."
On cue, Nemuri walks in, loudly proclaiming that the day has come. Aizawa sighs and drinks more
coffee. It's too early for anyone to be that happy.
"Noburo, why don't you go first?" Nemuri suggests. "You had some good concepts last time."
"Um, okay. Do I have to stand, or—"
"Just say the same and tagline," Aizawa cuts her off. "Short and sweet, so we can get to training."
"Right, right." Noburo nods before sitting up straight. "I'm the Pointy Hero, Iron Maiden."
"Ooh, not bad, not bad at all!" Nemuri coos. "A smidge violent, yes, but so is your Quirk. The
tagline is simple, and you even worked a reference into your name. Iron Maidens are those spiky
coffin things, right?"
"Yeah, they are," Noburo confirms, a relieved smile slipping onto her lips. "Thank you for helping,
ma'am. Your lessons were really good."
"D'aw, you shouldn't flatter me, especially since I threw those together in five minutes." She gives
Noburo one last proud smile and turns her attention to Midoriya. "Did you figure one out?" she
asks.
Midoriya nods firmly. "Yes, I did."
"Well, go ahead and share with the class."
"It's a little personal to me, but after I got some advice, I knew this had to be it." He takes a deep
breath, and Aizawa has to hide a smirk under his capture weapon as that familiar fire lights back up
in his eyes. "I'm the Can Do Hero, Deku."
Aizawa immediately looks to Nemuri with his best blank expression. 'Deku' is the type of name
she'd usually refuse due to the connotations, but with the way the kid said it, there's a snowball's
chance in hell that Aizawa would ever let her.
There's no worry, though, because Nemuri sees it too. She smirks coyly. "How interesting!
Oxymorons aren't usually used, but I take it this is ironic or something like that?" Midoriya nods,
though it's a bit noncommittal. "Well, alright then. I'm not one to judge. Deku is a fine hero name!"
Midoriya looks relieved and happy, obviously fully confident that he made the right choice. It's the
look Aizawa wants to see more from him. He's dealt with self-conscious students before, and it's
always a relief to see them grow into their own.
Perhaps with his new name, he'd tap into his full potential.
Chapter End Notes

I decided to stick with the cannon name. It's much easier to write, and really, I'm not
all that good at naming stuff. I also really like the metaphorical F U to everyone who
mocked Izuku with the name Deku you get by making it his hero name.
Next one starts the internship, which shouldn't be longer then two chapters, tops. It's
also the last appernce of Noburo. Weather that's forever or for the time being I dunno.
I also plan on squeezing in a 1-A cameo.

Goodbye, Noburo, Hello, Hawks
Chapter Notes
"Deku? The hell kinda name is that?" Gran's words make Izuku flinch, and he loses his focus,
nearly ramming into a wall. "Easy there, kid. I'm not judging your choice. But I'm definitely
judging your lack of concentration! Get back to your spot and stay there."
Izuku nods and kicks off the nearest hard surface, flying to the center of the room. Staying in the
same two meter cubed area usually isn't that hard, but ever since he'd figured out that he could use
One for All at ten percent, Float had gotten more uncontrollable. It's like when he first unlocked it
all over again—staying still is a nightmare, and the speed is blinding.
"But seriously, I'd like to know why you chose that name. It must be interesting."
Izuku opens his eyes, taking care to keep his center of balance level. "I took inspiration from you,
Gran. Everyone at school called me Deku because, well…"
"I gotcha." Gran looks up at him, almost fond. "That takes guts, kid, lots of guts. And I suppose it's
not an entirely bad name. Kinda rolls off the tongue."
Izuku smiles. "Thanks! I'm still not entirely comfortable with it, but it's at least mine no—woah!"
Float suddenly shoots him straight up, and he has to brace his arms to push off the ceiling. He
lowers himself to the floor at a safe two percent.
Gran shakes his head. "I really hope that Heron fella you picked for the internship fixes that."
"You mean Hawks," Izuku corrects, stretching out his arms.
"Whatever."
"He's ranked number three, how can you not know his name!?" Izuku asks, incredulous.
"Pssh, he's like nineteen. Still a baby, if you ask me."
"Hawks is twenty-one and has had his own agency for years!" Izuku says, still a bit exasperated.
"They say he's the fastest pro to ever live!" he adds, as an afterthought.
Gran's gaze immediately sharpens. "You watch your tongue, brat. I could kick that kid's teeth in
before he could blink."
Izuku blinks, skeptical. "Prove it."
"You sure about that?" Gran asks, looking deathly serious. Izuku nods, much more curious as to
what's about to happen than arrogant. "Your funeral."
Izuku doesn't even get a chance to think, much less blink before he's flat on his back with the wind
knocked out of him. Meanwhile, Gran Torino is perched on a ledge, with a grin that could only be
described as shit-eating.
"Wh… what?" Izuku wheezes.
"I warned you," Gran says. "You asked for this."
"H-how? You're like eighty! I thought you were taking our spars seriously!"
"Fear the old in a profession where they die young." Gran hops down from his ledge. "You may
not be a zygote anymore, but compared to me? To Toshinori? Other top pros? To your teachers at
that fancy school and Nana back when she was in her prime? Even to some sidekicks, you're a
toddler lost in the woods. Not helpless but exceedingly weak compared to the real big hitters of the
world."
"That's quite the good lesson, but did you have to be so rough with the boy?" The cheerful voice of
All Might echoes through the room. Izuku's face lights up and he immediately bounds over to his
mentor.
"All Might! How was your patrol?" He shuffles from foot to foot, eager.
"Uneventful," All Might says, "but that's a good thing. It means I'm still a crime-deterrent." He
looks over to Gran. "Maybe don't kick him so hard he pukes."
"And why not? It sure as hell worked for you," Gran bites back. "Besides, he needed a
demonstration. He's a teenager after all, and teenagers need to be taught respect."
"I understand that, but the boy's got a big day tomorrow, and it's Midoriya." All Might smiles down
at his successor. "You'd like the rest of the night off to spend time with your mother, yes?"
"If that's alright," Izuku says. "I would have thought you'd want to get one last day in before I left."
"Perhaps," All Might agrees, "but spending time with your family is also important. Heroes aren't
solitary creatures. Did you lift already?"
"Yes."
"Then you can go. Have a nice night, kid." Izuku gives a quick thanks and hurries out of the
building. He doesn't get to see the pair of fond smiles directed at his back.
The next morning comes after a night of movies and good food, courtesy of both of the Midoriyas.
Aizawa has the two students grab their costumes and sees them out to the train station. He leaves
with a final warning to behave and not to cause any trouble.
"It's a little weird getting on a train less than an hour after getting off one," Noburo points out,
sliding the case containing her costume under her seat. Izuku does the same.
"Yeah, I guess. But having us go right to the agencies from home would be even weirder." They
take their seats, Izuku right on the end next to the door and Noburo to his left. Even if the seats are
plenty big and the compartment is empty, she settles close to him so they're brushing shoulders and
knees. It's nice, Izuku thinks. It feels good to have a friend who's comfortable showing affection,
even if this is the last time they'll see each other for a while.
"Hey, don't get mopey," Noburo says, instantly catching on to his melancholy-filled expression.
"You'll be meeting Hawks in less than two hours. And I'll get to see the inside of Edgeshot's
agency. It'll be great." She tries to be cheerful, but it's clear she's a bit bummed as well. Izuku can't
blame her.
"I've always wanted to visit Edgeshot's agency." He tries to match her false cheer. "There's no
pictures of it online, and he's really big on security, so it's not like you could send me some."
"I could try." Noburo smiles, her foot tapping on the floor of the car. "I'm pretty sneaky—having
siblings does that to you, among other things."
"Having a big family can't be that bad," Izuku says, debating the obvious sentiment her sentence
carried. "You'd never get bored at home, and there'd be more people to listen to you."
"Sure, but when you're the youngest of five, the teasing is awful." Noburo shakes her head. "The
amount of shit I got for getting second at the festival is astronomical. And don't even get me started
on the overprotectiveness."
"Yeah."
The ride continues in silence after that. A few people get on and off at a couple stops, but the two
friends are not among them. When it does come time to change trains, however, there's hesitation
after they get off the first one.
Noburo looks over her shoulder at the subway entrance where Izuku is supposed to go to reach
Hawk's agency, which is further away from U.A than Edgeshot's, which she can walk to from their
current position.
"So..." she says, fiddling with her case.
"I think this is goodbye?" Izuku awkwardly asks, finding the surrounding shops and office
buildings very interesting.
"You'd be correct," she answers, trying to catch his eye. She eventually does, and they stare for a
while. Then Noburo takes a deep breath and drops her case, wrapping Izuku up in a tight embrace.
"I'm gonna miss you. Text me?"
"Y-yeah, of course," Izuku says, bringing his arms around the middle of her back. "I'll miss you,
too."
Noburo pulls away, one hand still on his arm. "Good luck, Deku," she says with a smile.
"You too, Iron Maiden."
And that's that.
[x]
The ride after that is dull. Izuku reads on his phone for most of it, idly passing the time and
ignoring the fresh bout of sadness that washes over him, but it's futile. No matter how hard he tries,
he can't get over the fact that he's lost another friend. The train car that Izuku's in stays empty for
most of the ride, only making it more difficult for him to distract himself. Two stops pass, and not a
single soul steps on. But on the third one, that changes.
A father and son, or at least, Izuku thinks it's a father and son, get on and take a pair of seats across
from him. They're both taller than him, the father more so than the son, who has at least two
centimeters on Izuku. They both have black hair, the son's styled down in a spiky mane, and the
father's carefully gelled back, giving it a glossy look. The boy, who's probably around Izuku's age,
is also wearing a black medical mask and coughs a couple of times.
Izuku smiles politely at the man, who nods in return and procures a newspaper from somewhere,
and begins to read. They must be going to or getting back from the doctor's, he figures. It's the only
logical reason for a high schooler to be taking a train with a mask at this hour. Izuku looks over to
the boy and is startled to see that he's staring.
Red eyes. That's the first thing Izuku notices, and his heart nearly leaps from his chest once he
does. But the other boy's eyes aren't angry and hateful like Bakugo's. Instead, they're more like his
father's gray ones, cheerful and polite, as well as dark in color. Izuku smiles and waves at the boy
before meaning to look at his phone again. He never gets the chance.
"You're the guy who won the Sports Festival!" the boy says, voice a little muffled by his mask and
looking like he wants to get up and sit next to Izuku. "Dude, that was so cool to watch! I was
cheering you on from the start, so it was awesome to see you win like that. Your name's Midoriya,
right?"
"Y-yeah!" Izuku says, the feeling of flustered pride at being recognized bubbling through his chest.
"Thank you for cheering for me. It was really tough at times."
"Really? The way you fought, I thought you were breezing through everything." It's very obvious
that the boy is smiling under his face covering, and he gets up. "My name's Kirishima, it's really
nice to meet you!"
"Eijiro, maybe don't shake the guy's hand right after we found out you're contagious," the voice of
the father says, though it's the opposite of stern.
"Right, sorry, Dad." Kirishima chuckles and returns to his seat across from Izuku. "It's still really
cool to see you in person. You're actually kinda shorter than I expected." He trails off at the end,
scratching the nape of his neck. "Not that that's a bad thing! Small but mighty is a really manly
thing to be. I just thought that with that crazy Quirk of yours, you'd be taller."
Izuku forces a laugh, not quite sure of how to react. "Um, thanks, I think? I haven't really thought
about my height a whole lot."
"Hey, don't worry about it!" Kirishima laughs. "I wasn't making fun of you. Anyways, could you
tell me what UA's like? I wanna apply next year. I'm aiming for the hero course!"
"Oh, I can do that." Izuku relaxes. This he can do. "The entrance exam is tough, but if you go with
your gut in the practical and study hard for the written, you've got a good shot of getting in."
"Ya hear that, boy? Study hard or you won't make it," the father says, flipping the page of his
newspaper. "Heart won't make up for being dumb as a rock."
"Yeah, yeah," Kirishima says, obviously brushing his father off for the time being. "What about
classes? UA's crazy rich, right? So they've gotta have all sorts of state of the art stuff for training."
"They do," Izuku confirms. "They've got a massive dome half the size of my home district just for
rescue training! And that's not evening talking about the fake cities, which are really cool. I haven't
been in them a lot yet, but they're amazing."
"Aw man, that does sound awesome," Kirishima cheers. It quickly develops into a coughing fit,
causing the conversion to stop for a while. "Ack, sorry. I've got a bug or something, and I haven't
felt good for three days. Anyways, it's no surprise they let you in. I mean, you were practically a
hero before you even took the entrance tests!"
"Wh… what?" Izuku asks, furrowing his brow.
"The Quake Incident, remember?" Kirishima explains, "When you rushed in to help that new hero
when no one else would, even if you were just a kid. I saw that on the news. It was totally manly!"
Izuku feels himself color. "O-oh. That." The day he met All Might. How could he forget?
"I gotta know, what were you thinking?" the red-eyed boy asks, leaning forward on his knees.
"You looked scared outta your mind, but you kept moving. What were you thinking?"
"I wasn't," Izuku answers. "In that moment, my mind was blank, and my body moved on its own."
"Woah…" The train stops, and Izuku stands, unsure of how to deal with Kirishima's stunned
expression.
"Uh, this is where I get off," he tries.
Kirishima blinks out of his trance. "Don't let me hold you back," he says, waving Izuku on.
"You've just given me a lot to think about. Good luck with whatever you're doing!"
"Thanks." Izuku smiles as he grabs his case and walks out of the train. "Get well soon! I hope I see
you in UA next year!"
"I'll try! See ya!"
Izuku walks from the station to the agency with a smile and a pep in his step. The streets and roads
are mostly empty with it being a workday, so he can walk as fast as he likes. With one final left
turn, he finally sees it.
Hawks Hero Agency is a ten story building with a massive radio tower on top, providing an
additional three hundred meters of height. It's blocky and square, painted a plain beige with gold
and red accents. A black sign runs from top to bottom of the front left corner, letting people know
what it is clearly. Without the sign and tower, Izuku feels that it would be indistinguishable from
the normal office buildings that surround it.
With a deep breath, Izuku walks up to the front entrance and opens one of the many glass doors.
He enters, nervously looking around. Inside he sees what's probably a waiting area, with chairs and
coffee tables. There's a lady patiently waiting in one of the seats, and in the back of the room is a
desk along with a wide double door leading deeper into the building.
The receptionist looks up from his computer. "Can I help you?" he asks, a respectable sliver of
caution in his voice.
"I'm here for the internship?" Izuku says, walking further into the room. It's painted like the
outside but with a lighter shade of beige. Potted plants and paintings of birds of prey serve as
decorations.
The man flicks through a thick binder for a moment, and Izuku stops and stands awkwardly in
front of the desk. "Midoriya Izuku?" he asks, casually twirling a pencil with two fingers.
"T-that's me."
"What's your date of birth?" The man looks down at his binder, the heightened part of the desk
hiding it from view.
"July fifteenth, 2305."
The man nods, satisfied. He wheels back and pulls open a drawer, procuring a lanyard with a
plastic card on the end.
"This'll get you to Hawks' office. Go in that door and straight back all the way to the elevator. Go
to the top floor—not the roof, the actual top floor—and take a left right away. At the first junction,
go left again, and the room will be the first door on the left. If anyone asks who you are, just show
the badge. Got it?"
"I-I think so." Izuku takes the lanyard. "Thank you."
"You're welcome. He'll be with you soon. Probably."
With that, Izuku dutifully follows the instructions of the receptionist. The first hallway is
practically empty, with only a single door other than the elevator that reads Locker Room. On the
ride up, he's not the only one and is joined by a few sidekicks who get off on the third floor. Once
he gets to the right floor, Izuku walks through the halls without having to show the badge once.
The door to Hawks' Office is wide and dark and pops out against the hardwood floors and the
brown walls. Izuku knocks three times and waits. Nothing happens. He knocks again. Then once
more. Eventually, he just turns the handle and, finding it unlocked, walks in.
The office is barren, Izuku thinks. There are no decorations barring the single dead fern that sits in
the far right corner. The far wall is taken up completely by a massive window, which gives a great
view of the city below. There's a desk with a backless chair and a stool across from it. Izuku takes a
seat and waits, noting how the window has two sets of large hinges, likely so people can fly in.
Izuku waits for ten minutes. He doesn't play on his phone because that would be rude and kind of
embarrassing. He does look over his costume, however. It's the same as when he first got it and in
perfect condition. He almost wishes there was something wrong so he could try and fix it. Izuku
and waiting don't exactly mix well most of the time.
After another two minutes of waiting, Izuku spots a small dot on the skyline from the view of the
window. It gradually grows bigger and bigger, and Izuku feels his heart speed up. Finally, a mere
five seconds after noticing it, Izuku can definitively say that the dot is Hawks.
Izuku stands up from the stool and brushes off his uniform. This is it. Maybe if he's good enough,
he could get an autograph out of this. Is it wrong to think about that? He's here to learn, so that
should be his priority. But then again, All Might and Present Mic signed stuff for him, so maybe
it's okay. Or maybe it just depends—
The number three hero slams into the window at top speed and bounces off with a comical thunk.
Izuku can't help the little snort that exits his nose. Watching carefully as Hawks glides backwards
and uses two feathers to open the door, he takes a step back. The pro hero then casually flies in.
But he doesn't sit behind the desk. Or stand behind it, even. Instead, the man casually walks right
up to Izuku and looks him in the eye. Hawks' eyes flash something serious for just half a second.
"No one will ever believe you," he says.
"W-what?" Izuku squeaks, suddenly doubting if this was the right choice for his internship.
"Nah, just playing." Hawks' expression shifts to something more playful, and he unceremoniously
turns and sits on top of his desk with his legs crossed. "I left that window open this morning, so
someone must've closed it—happens all the time. I'm just messing with you. You're that Sports
Festival kid, right?"
"Yeah, I'm—"
"Midoriya Izuku, I know." Hawks stands and brushes past the younger boy. "Follow me," he says,
walking out of the room. Izuku obeys, following him to the elevator.
"So," Hawks says, tapping his foot to the ambient music of the elevator car after he selected the
button that read Roof. "Why'd you pick my agency?"
"I wanted help with my flying," Izuku answers honestly. "I haven't really gotten a chance to really
fly. I have at school some, but that's always inside. But I want to see what it's like in the open sky."
"Oh, good," Hawks says as the elevator dings. He steps off. "I sent you an offer because your
flying was awful. Nice that our goals align, yeah?"
"Y-yeah." Izuku's a little bit hurt by the dig at his use of Float, but he can't really disagree. He's
here to learn, after all.
"M'kay, I'll have you go a round with my new sidekick, and then we'll see what you've got to work
on." Izuku steps out of the elevator car and onto the roof. The floor is padded slightly, with some
kind of plastic to cushion.
"Should I really be fighting someone at that level?" Izuku asks, taking the massive radio tower he'd
spotted from the ground. It is also padded, at the bottom at least, and painted a bright gold with
flashing lights.
"Eh, probably not. But I'm not here to see you win; I wanna see how you fly up close." Hawks
points upward. "I'll be watching you and Talon—that's my sidekick—in the air. He'll be here in a
bit, so go get changed. There's a room over there."
Izuku takes his case with him over to the short structure Hawks had pointed to. It's more of a shack
than a room, with tin walls and a plywood roof. It would definitely collapse with a strong enough
wind, but then again, it's probably temporary.
After changing into his costume, Izuku steps out to see Hawks having an animated, albeit one-
sided, conversation with who must be Talon. The man has an obvious bird mutation, with skinny
yellow arms and legs that had long, black claws, a falcon's head, and a pair of large wings. He
dwarfs both Hawks and Izuku and wears a serious expression that matches the old-timey look of his
costume which is modeled after a bomber pilot from the 1900s.
"That him?" Talon asks.
"Yep," Hawks says, drawing the word out and popping the P at the end. "You can probably take
him easy, so don't be too rough. Slip your gloves on and remember that he's got a fraction of your
training."
Talon grunts and pulls out a pair of thick leather gloves tailored to his bird-like hands out of his
jacket. He slips them on and flexes his fingers. Satisfied, he looks to Izuku.
"You've got a good grasp of ground-to-ground combat," Talon says. "But Hawks said your air-to-
ground is awful, and your air-to-air is non-existent. Is that true?" Izuku nods. "Are you sure we
should be doing this?" He addresses the pro.
"Eh, it'll be fine. The hero hospital is a two-minute flight away, and I'll be watching everything."
Hawks leans against the door to the elevator. "Just pretend you're roughhousing with your siblings.
That's something that happens, right?" Talon only rolls his eyes.
"Are you ready?" the sidekick asks, spreading his wings. Izuku nods, prepping Float at a safe five
percent. "Very well. I won't go easy on you." With that, Talon flaps his wings hard enough to stir
up a sizable breeze and dashes forwards, arms outstretched.
Not to be outdone, Izuku moves, too, meeting the young man halfway. Thinking he has the
advantage with the extra strength of One for All, Izuku tries for a tackle. Talon, however, is much
too agile, and leans out of the way, grabbing one of Izuku's legs in the process.
Kicking wildly, Izuku breaks free and turns to face again. It's too slow, and Talon has already
closed the distance, and he drives Izuku back with a hard kick to the chest. Using the newly created
space, Talon moves upwards, angling his wings and limbs. Izuku chases after, trying to get a hold
of a leg.
After reaching his desired height, Talon levels out and sharply turns away from the tower. Instead
of copying the exact move, Izuku stops midair and spins. He does so just in time to be kicked with
two legs into the tower. It's all downhill from there.
No matter how high his power output goes, or how hard he tries to anticipate Talon's moves, Izuku
cannot get more than two feet from the tower. It limits his movements and attacks severely,
crippling his chances of winning. With every kick and punch he takes, Izuku is raised higher and
higher, back hitting the cold metal of the tower. Eventually, Talon pins both of his arms against a
beam of steel with his feet claws and claims victory.
"Alright, I got what I needed. Talon, you rendezvous with Stratosphere—she's your patrol leader—
and Midoriya, you come down," Hawks orders, circling the tower. "I've got some tips for you."
Bidding a polite goodbye to Talon, Izuku swiftly descended along with Hawks. The pro looks at
him carefully for a moment before speaking. "So, what went wrong there?"
"I couldn't maneuver," Izuku answers immediately. His fighting style relies heavily on
maneuverability, so if he can't move, he can't fight.
Hawks nods. "Yeah, that's one part of it. But you also let Talon control the pace of the fight."
Izuku blinks. "The pacing?"
Hawks' lips move oddly, contouring from one shape to another as he thinks. "You know how when
runners have a race, they go at a certain speed for better efficiency?" he says after a moment. Izuku
nods. "It's like that. You want to go at a speed comfortable for you. Think about how I always go
blindingly fast. I set the pace of the fight at such a speed that villains and criminals can't react.
Talon did something similar, fighting at an uncomfortable rate for you, but a good one for him. Got
it?"
"Yeah, I think I do," Izuku says, taping his foot thoughtfully. Gran and All Might always fight at
his pace, but if Izuku wants to be a better hero, he should fight at slower and faster ones.
"Talon also did a great job of restricting your movements," Hawks adds, holding up a finger.
"Fighting air-to-air is all about control. If you can't move freely and your opponent can, you've
lost. There's also a dimensional change for air fights." He holds up another finger. "On the ground,
you'll always have the floor, and you only have to worry about the X and Y axis. Or at least almost
always. Anyways, up there, it's different. You have to worry about the Z axis, up and down.
Really, the only constant you have with air-to-air fights is gravity."
Izuku mulls it over for a moment before nodding. "Thank you for teaching me this," he says, half
tempted to bow.
"Pfft, don't thank me yet." Hawks laughs, slipping his hands into his pockets. "You've got six days
here, and I'm gonna work you hard. Starting right now with a flying lesson." He pulls one hand out
of a pocket and with it a spare pair of his usual yellow goggles. "Here." He tosses them to Izuku,
who catches.
"What are these for? And how will you be teaching me?"
"There's all sorts of junk and bits of dust in the air most days, not to mention the wind," Hawks
says, stretching his crimson wings wide. "They're for you to use temporarily. Gotta keep your eyes
healthy, right? And as for your other question…" He looks at Izuku, a cool and casual smirk on his
lips. For all intents and purposes, he looks as casual as ever, but Izuku can't help but feel on edge.
"I find that learning on the job is best. We're going on patrol."
[x]
Bonus! Facts about Noburo.
Originally conceived for the express purpose of giving Izuku a friend for his early days at UA,
Noburo was initially of a Latin American background, like I, the author, am. I scrapped that idea
and made her Filipino after realizing that the amount of Latin American immigrants to Japan is
probably exceedingly small.
In the first outlines, she was supposed to willingly leave UA, finding the fly-by-the-seat-of-your-
pants style of teaching to not be a good fit for her, and not being comfortable with a class of two. I
changed the reason after realizing that it's very out of character for someone like her, who's so
driven.
Her name was the product of a two-minute google search on Japanese names. The site I used said
Noburo means 'He who hides.' I have no clue if that's accurate, but that's fine because it has no
bearing on her character. Her first name, Mai, was taken from the AtLA character Mai. The two
have nothing in common except for general badassery.
As I've hinted, she has a crush on Izuku. However, she's also the type to focus on her career first,
so them getting together would never happen, even if she stayed in Japan.
Noburo's favorite music is metal, though she has a guilty pleasure for electronic music as well. Her
favorite food is soba, piping hot in temperature and, if she can get it, in spice as well. She is also a
closet nerd and will talk your ears off about video games and the history of music if you let her.
Chapter End Notes
I don't like the Noburo send off, it's to quick. I had a bit with them hanging out after
school the night before they left, but it didn't fit with the pacing, and would have made
the chapter drag.
Anyways, I hope I got Hawks' personality right. He's supposed to be a go-with-the-

flow guy, and also really casual. I kinda ignored the first bit to teach Izuku some
things, but it'll come back.
Fly Fast, Kid
Chapter Notes
"Patrol!" Izuku says, shocked so much that he nearly drops the goggles in his hands. "But I'm not
ready! I couldn't even keep up with you, and what if there are villains?"
"Relax, it'll be fine." Hawks stretches his arms over his head and cracks his neck. "Stay behind me
and don't worry about falling behind. There'll be sidekicks following me, so if you get lost, stick
with them. Alright, let's go." With that, he takes off in a single wing beat and rockets into the
midday sky.
Izuku hastily slips the goggles over his head, tightening the strap so they don't fall off. He looks
around once they're on, searching for a flash of red among the vast blue. He finds it, already
hundreds of meters away, and starts off at ten percent.
Flying in the open air is nothing like flying in enclosed spaces. It takes Izuku all of two seconds to
realize this because his attempt to go right for Hawks is stopped by the wind. Pushed back and
forth, Izuku desperately tries to climb, the literal force of nature fighting his every move. But he
pushes through and trails behind the hero.
Not wanting to be left in the dust, Izuku pushes to twelve percent, straining his body. The air parts
perfectly around the goggles, and he angles so his face is pointing forward and his chest is pointing
down. The air pressure forces him to keep his arms to his sides and his legs together, and even then
he still doesn't feel sleek, but he still moves forward.
In the distance, Izuku can see Hawks soaring high above the city, doing lazy loops and swinging
low occasionally. The hero's path is random and almost erratic, and Izuku is forced to change
course many times, his frustration growing each time.
Every time Izuku gets within a hundred meters, Hawks picks up his pace, swooping around
buildings and stopping crimes with a few feathers. If it were any other scenario, Izuku would be in
full Fanboy mode. Hawks' captures were always amazing to watch, and he often moves too fast for
cameras to catch. But now, with every beat of the hero's wings, Izuku is reminded of the fact that
he isn't fast enough.
Not fast enough to keep up, but fast enough to keep in sight. That's what Izuku finds his level to be.
He does consider giving up and going with the sidekicks, but it would mean he'd have to run,
which is not what he came here for. So Izuku continues to bite his lip and fly on, lagging behind all
the while.
From Izuku's count, Hawks manages to make thirty villain takedowns in the time he spends on
patrol. Considering that the average hero could only pull two or three a day, the number is almost
unimaginable. Of course, Izuku also knows that Hawks' record is exactly one hundred and five
captures made in a single day. It's a ridiculous number that could probably never be repeated
almost entirely because of Hawks' Quirk.
And what a Quirk it is. Fierce Wings is something that would've taken at least a decade of intense
training for even the most talented people to master, but Hawks isn't even twenty-five. The sheer
talent the man possesses is something Izuku could never have. It's a depressing thought but also
doesn't change anything. With enough hard work, Izuku could be a great hero like Hawks.
He just has to make it back to the agency first.
It might not seem like it at first thought, but using Float is taxing on the body. Or maybe it isn't
Float so much as One for All in general. Even if Izuku could use up to fourteen percent without
immediate harm, the power still puts strain on the body.
A long training session with All Might showed that outputs up to ten percent have almost no extra
backlash, meaning that the strain is comparable to if Izuku ran or did another form of cardio
exercise for the same amount of time. But above ten percent is a different story. Even after thirty
minutes one percent above that threshold, Izuku gets sore, and if he spends just two continuous
minutes at fourteen percent, he'd be walking with a limp for the rest of the day.
Izuku has just gone upwards of two hours without dipping below twelve percent. He’s almost
tempted to stay floating above the ground all day so he won't have to feel the ache in his muscles,
but as Hawks himself lands back on the roof of his agency and waves Izuku down, there really is
no choice.
He regrets his choice the instant his feet touch the ground. Izuku is no stranger to muscle soreness
and fatigue—the Aim to Pass: American Dream Plan saw to that. But nothing that came from All
Might's training is on the same level as what he’s experiencing at that moment.
Biting back a swear, Izuku stumbles forward. He very nearly hits the ground, but a crimson feather
hooks onto his utility belt and steadies him. Looking up, he sees Hawks, casually leaning against
the tower.
"You can take a break if you like," the hero says, making sure Izuku is able to stand before letting
the feather fly back to join with his wings. "It's not a big deal. You're here to improve, not die of…
is it Quirk exhaustion or poor endurance?"
"Neither." Izuku braces himself on the ledge of the roof with one hand. "My Quirk is a massive
pool of energy; I don't think I could use it all in one sitting if I tried. Did you see what happened in
the second round of the festival?"
"Not really, I just watched the final event." Hawks twirls a pencil-sized feather with two fingers.
"My body can't handle my full power," Izuku explains. "So if I go above my safe limit, I get
drawbacks."
"Huh." Hawks stops spinning the feather and looks at Izuku. "That sucks. And there's nothing you
can really do about it here. I didn't sign up to help a kid with Quirk conditioning. Anyways, you
should take a break. Or not, I don't care." He spreads his wings again and prepares for takeoff. "If
you follow me, don't die. It's a lot of paperwork for me, and I'll probably get sued." Without
another word, Hawks takes off. Izuku is left on the roof, alone.
"But where do I go if I want to take a break?" he asks, hoping for an actual order.
"Don't care! Do whatever you want!"
Izuku sighs and turns around to look over the edge of the building. Since it's only the first day, he
shouldn't be too disappointed with the lack of actual teaching. The advice he got at the start was
good, and he got a feel for flying in open air. But he couldn't help but feel dissatisfied.
Eraserhead, Gran, and All Might are always good about not wasting a moment in their lessons.
Each and every exercise is designed to build good habits and increase his abilities. Hawks just isn't
like that. There's no lesson to be learned from flying around in circles trying to catch up to someone
who couldn't be beaten. Or maybe there is and he’s missing it.
Taking a deep breath, Izuku calls for Float again. Hawks said he could do whatever he wanted.
Hawks also seems to be a really laid-back person. Surely he wouldn't mind if Izuku keeps
practicing on the roof, right? It couldn't hurt, if he ignores the fact that he has no idea what he’s
doing.
Rising to the top of the tower, Izuku pulls out his phone and opens it. There is probably a rule
against texting and flying, but that isn't important. He needs moves. Actual, legitimate maneuvers,
preferably something he could use like Full Cowl. Basic but effective and easy to apply in most
situations.
It’s at times like this that he wishes for his notebook. Izuku knows for a fact that he has a whole
section in the thirteenth one dedicated to aerial heroes and their moves. But for now, he'll just have
to work with his phone.
"Star Shot, Zephyr, Whirl, and Stratosphere are all ranged, so they're out," he mutters to himself,
perching on a ring of the tower. "Hawks is, too. I need someone who gets up close and personal.
Maybe Buckshot? No, he's only got one documented close-quarters takedown. Ugh, why is this so
difficult?"
With the vast amount of heroes in Asia, not to mention the rest of the world, it isn't that difficult to
find any type of hero one could imagine. But there’s a shortage of close-range flying types for
some reason. Even among villains, who often use knives to go with their Quirks, there aren't a lot.
Annoyed with his lack of results, Izuku closes out of his search engine and opens a video streaming
app. There's a very small chance of finding anything of worth for his current project, but that's fine.
Izuku just needs a second to let his brain relax.
Most of his recommendations are news clips from earlier in the week. A robbery here, a hijacking
there—they were regular happenings. There’s a new All Might video that he watches, but it's only
twenty seconds and shows him stopping a routine mugging.
Scrolling down a bit more in search of something funny or just plain entertaining, Izuku sees a
video titled 73rd Sports Festival Highlight #34, Midoriya V. Noburo final pin. The thumbnail
shows a still of Izuku and Noburo mid-grapple. Interested in seeing what it looked like from the
outside, Izuku taps it. The video buffers for a moment before playing.
The video starts with a little intro explaining how the festival progressed up to that point. Once the
actual clip starts, the overwhelming majority of the noise is cheers from the crowd. The rest is
Midnight, who's counting down as loud as she can. The camera is steadily pointed at Izuku's face,
which is focused on the task at hand with a lipless grin. Noburo is struggling against the hold she's
in, but it's clearly fruitless.
Pausing the video, Izuku scrolls down to the comments. Most are about how exciting the video
was with the odd joke thrown in. One does catch his eye, though.
Lol just imagine you're a mugger trying to make a quick buck then 5'3 green haired kid drops
down from the sky and fuckin puts you in a choke hold.
Drop down from the sky and put them in a chokehold. Shutting his phone off, Izuku thinks about
it. Maybe he should be a grappler. One for All's raw power would definitely be suited to it, not to
mention the advantages it would bring to capturing.
But for some reason, using One for All's physical enhancement to restrain villains doesn't feel
right. Something deep in Izuku's bones tells him that pins would be useless and steers him to
tackles and strikes instead.
Agreeing with his instincts, Izuku kicks off into the air. Fresh out of ideas for good moves, he
decides to do something he's good at: Imitating Gran Torino. Jet is a perfectly good Quirk that
should be replicable with Float, so there's no reason not to try, even if it's not something he plans
on using long-term.
He starts off by circling around the tower, mentally planning what to do.
"One hard push in the opposite direction I want to go," Izuku mutters, going a fair distance away
from the tower. "Like Jet."
He pauses midair and focuses One for All into his feet. Gradually, the pressure builds. His legs feel
like they want to explode, but Izuku holds firm. He floats in the same spot, waiting. Then, when it
feels like he can't hold for another moment, he releases the pressure. And promptly shoots fifty
meters up.
"Woah," Izuku says, steadying himself. The pressure on his body was still there, but it happened all
at once instead of being a continuous strain. It isn't an improvement, but it’s something new. He
can work with this.
Izuku lets the pressure build again, this time focusing on his entire body. Since Float is meant for
continuous use rather than short bursts (there's a whole page in his notebook dedicated to how the
Quirk works, but it boils down to being a field of energy that constantly radiates outward), it takes
a while to gather enough energy. This time, he doesn't go to the maximum. Instead, once he's
halfway there, he lets a short burst out and shoots to the left. Then, without pausing, he releases the
rest of the pressure and goes to the right.
Smiling, Izuku flies back to the tower and finds a spot to sit. Pulling out his phone again, he opens
his notes app. "Full Cowl but without walls. With enough practice, maybe..." Izuku's thoughts
devolve into a garbled mess, and he begins to type swiftly.
After a couple minutes of typing, Izuku stops. Looking over his notes, he sees that there's a
common theme. Short bursts on their own won't make up for his speed deficiency, but if he could
build power and fly at the same time, he could fix the problem.
"Now to practice." Izuku kicks off again. "I should focus on the bursts first, then try to do the
combination."
He keeps One for All strictly at five percent. Izuku could technically practice at ten percent, but
there's no need to start out at his limit. He lets the pressure build once more, then releases. After
going a couple meters upward, he lets a similar-sized burst out, stopping himself. He does the
same, going to the left this time. He repeats the process for a while, getting a feel for the timing he
needs to stop. Once he feels confident enough, he moves on to something new.
Turns. Something that would be difficult to do with the burst technique. For this one, Izuku starts a
half-meter above the roof of the building and starts to charge up. He only lets it get to a small
fraction of the way full before he releases.
The speed is much slower than before, giving him plenty of time to turn properly. It's actually not
that hard to change directions, so long as it's a slight change, Izuku finds. All he has to do is lean in
the direction he wants to go, and Float does the rest. So he ups the power.
Once he gets a hold of how to turn in this new Burst Style, Izuku loses track of time. The speed he
now has is enticing, drawing out the same unadulterated joy he felt when he first used Full
Cowling. Now for the hard part.
Shooting off a burst, Izuku simultaneously focuses on charging up another. It's too much at once,
and he very nearly slams into a nearby building. Undeterred, he keeps trying, and after a while he
finds that it's easier to let off a small burst, at maybe a third or half power, and then fill up his
metaphorical tank in the glide afterwards instead of using power and refilling at the same time.
There's a small limitation in that he can't charge up power and turn at the same time, but that's
something he can work on later.
Smiling and laughing, Izuku dashes through the air, no longer needing hard surfaces to change
direction. He loops around the tower, then shoots over to the side of the neighboring building,
pulling up in a turn before he faceplants into the wall. He starts to climb higher and higher,
shrugging off the air pressure until he can see the great expanse of the city in the afternoon sun.
Izuku shivers from the cold and something… else. He should probably go down, now. And rest,
especially after however long he'd been training.
"You'll need a better costume if you wanna fly this high, kid," a gentle and familiar voice says.
Izuku looks over his shoulder.
"Seven," he says, shocked. "H-how?"
Nana shrugs, the movement causing her cape to ruffle. Izuku had only just realized that she's
untouched by the wind. Her body radiates a purple aura. "This Quirk is weird, so let's just ignore
the how for now and focus on the why."
"... Why?"
"Yeah, kid." Nana glides forwards, graceful and sure. "Sorahiko is gonna get a kick out of your
new moves. Toshinori, too. I never would've thought to use my Quirk like this."
Izuku swallows nervously, somehow feeling hot even though he's wearing two layers of spandex so
high in the sky he can't make out individual people on the streets below. "S-sorry, I just wasn't fast
enough."
Nana waves him off. "Don't worry about it. I actually like what you've done. By using it as your
own, you've made it better for you." She smiles, and Izuku's heart flutters as he notices how similar
it is to All Might's. "Let's go for a fly."
"But I'm supposed to stay by the agency!" Izuku looks down, trying to spot it. "And I might get in
trouble for illegal Quirk use."
Nana raises an eyebrow. "Your teacher said to do whatever you want. That means that if you do
something you weren't supposed to, it's his fault for not telling you."
"But I don't want to get Hawks in trouble," Izuku argues.
Nana shakes her head fondly. "Nine, he's twenty-one and the number three hero. Trust me when I
say no one will care about this in a year, maybe even less. Now c'mon!" She dashes off, her two
capes trailing behind and her sleek black top parting the air easily. Or, more likely, she's simply not
bound by the laws of physics anymore. Either way, Izuku feels compelled to follow.
Nana looks over her shoulder for a half-second before orienting herself downward and going into a
steep dive. Izuku copies, loving the rush of adrenaline that courses through his veins as he starts to
free fall.
They don't pull out of the dive until the last second. Nana somehow manages to aim right for the
top of an apartment building and curves so she just barely avoids faceplanting. Izuku does the
same, using a small burst to help his turn and barrel rolling for fun.
Izuku doesn't know how long he spends flying with Nana. All he knows is that at some point he
started to use the extra strength One for All gives him to get running starts on rooftops and
skywalks, and by then the sun's already gone down. By the time Nana takes him back to the
agency, the moon is partway up.
Landing with a roll, Izuku pops up with a smile, looking up to Nana, who has her arms crossed with
a smile. He's breathing heavy and his body aches, but it's satisfying rather than frustrating this time.
"You did good, kid," she says, reaching out to ruffle his hair. Her hand phases right through his
head and she grimaces. "Right. That."
Izuku looks away, not sure of what to do. "Thank you for the fly," he settles on.
"I should be the one thanking you." Nana looks up at the sky. "I haven't ever had that level of
freedom. Even the day before I died, I couldn't move that fast or precisely."
"But then how..?"
"I'm not sure. This Quirk is weird, remember?" She smirks, almost like she had just won a long
argument. "Anyways, I'm not here to have fun. There's something important you need to know."
"What is it?" Izuku asks, not sure if it's a good thing or a bad thing.
"You'll be getting another Quirk soon."
"What!?" Izuku nearly jumps out of shock. "How? Why? When? What Quirk?"
"Because of how this works, you've impressed someone, I don't know, and that's a surprise. In that
order."
Nana starts to flicker and swears quietly. "We're out of time. You'll probably feel exhausted
because of this, I'm sorry. Don't try to force anything, okay? And work hard with that brain of
yours. Bye, Nine." With that, she fades from existence.
Izuku stares at the spot where she stood, left with more questions than answers.
Another Quirk.
Three Quirks.
The thought is as daunting as it is exciting. On one hand, Izuku has only just barely scratched the
surface of what Float could do, and if he has to manage another power on top of it? One that could
be completely different from both the strength enhancement of One for All and the flying of Float?
It seems impossible. But on the other hand…
Three Quirks.
There’s probably some kind of cosmic joke to be made about Izuku, a boy born Quirkless having
three Quirks handed to him.
Strong wingbeats fill Izuku's ears, pulling him away from his thoughts. He looks across the roof to
see Hawks land. He's a little ruffled and missing his usual easy smirk, but otherwise unchanged
from earlier.
Hawks begins to walk across the roof, focused on something. When he sees Izuku he stops short.
His smile is quickly plastered on. "Hey, what are you doing here? I told you to take a break."
Izuku straightens his back. "You told me to do whatever. So I got some training in."
Hawks blinks slowly and in such a way that Izuku thinks can only be described as owl-like. "Did
you spend the last"—he checks his left wrist, which has a small digital watch on it—"ten hours up
on this roof practicing?"
"Ten hours!" Izuku exclaims. "It's been that long since you left?"
"That's not what I'm getting at, but yes." Hawks gives Izuku a quick once-over. "Are you tired?
Hungry? We can get something to eat if you like. I was on my way to this great broasted chicken
place."
On cue, Izuku's stomach grumbles. "Yeah, that'd be great. But can I change first?"
"There's no need." Hawks takes a couple steps closer and unfurls his wings. "If we're in costume,
then we can fly and get a private room. I'll even try and drag some sidekicks along."
Hawks does, in fact, drag some sidekicks along. Izuku is quickly introduced to Stratosphere, a short
and lithe woman with bright red hair and eyes, and Cyclone, an average-height man with broad
shoulders and brown hair. Talon is also persuaded to come, and all five of them fly across town to
a decent-looking, if a bit old, diner.
Dinner is good. Hawks and Talon both scarf down a whole chicken each, Stratosphere and Cyclone
settle for splitting a plate of hot wings, and Izuku, who skipped lunch and trained all day, has four
drumsticks and a breast.
Afterwards, they skip dessert and head back to the agency. The sidekicks are all sent home, and
Izuku is shown to a smallish room to spend the night in with a warning that he'll be woken up early
the next morning. He showers in the ensuite, texts his mom goodnight, and goes to sleep.
The next morning, Izuku is woken up by three loud knocks on the door of his room. "I'm awake!"
he responds immediately, kicking off the covers. The knocking stops.
"Get in your gear and be on the roof in twenty minutes," the voice of Talon comes through the
door. "Don't be late."
Calling back a confirmation, Izuku hops out of bed and pulls off his shirt and shorts. His costume is
hanging up in the shower, so he rushes into the bathroom. After dressing at top speed, which still
takes six minutes, he exits his room and makes for the elevator.
Taking the car up, Izuku stretches out his muscles. Since he was able to sleep deeply for a long
time, most of the stiffness would be gone in moments. Of course, it’s still a bit painful to make the
trip to where he needs to be, but anything he learned from Hawks would be worth it. Probably.
The elevator slows to a stop then opens. Izuku steps out to the familiar roof and looks around. He
sees Hawks, who's watching one of his loose feathers float around in the gentle morning breeze.
"Hey, there you are." Hawks walks over to Izuku, who meets him halfway. "Ready for another try
keeping up with me? With all those hours you put in yesterday, you'll either collapse from
exhaustion or actually manage it."
"I'm ready," Izuku says, slipping on the spare goggles Hawks gave him the other day that he may
or may not have 'forgotten' to return. "I think I'll do better this time."
"Cool, cool." Hawks leans back a bit and stretches his arms out like a second set of wings.
"Y'know, I'm alright if you make an arrest today. Just make sure it's one I'm already going for,
yeah? Don't want to accidentally take out some jaywalker."
It's clearly a joke. That or Hawks is overestimating him. But Izuku isn't going to let that stop him
from trying. "Alright. Do we start now?"
Hawks nods. "Yep," he says, then disappears with a blur of crimson and brown.
Not wanting to be left in the dust for the second day in a row, Izuku activates Full Cowling at ten
percent and immediately begins to build up a burst. He sprints across the roof, all the way to the
edge. Taking a flying leap, he lets off all the power he stored and swiftly cuts through the air,
trailing green lightning.
Izuku moves fast, faster than he's ever gone before. So fast, in fact, that for a brief, glorious
moment, he passes Hawks, who's already halfway to an in-progress car theft.
The older hero's eyes widen in surprise. Izuku can't see it, but Hawks backs off and lets him drop
down to the ground.
Deku, clad in green and red, hits the concrete of a parking lot and rolls to a stop. He stands, already
dashing forward, startling a pair of men who are in the middle of using their Quirks to pry open a
car window.
He tackles them both simultaneously, taking care to limit the force of the impact. Now on the cold,
hard ground, the two villains groan and try to get up. They are quickly wrapped up in white tape,
courtesy of Deku.
Two down, who knows how many to go.
[x]
Bonus! Contents of Deku's Utility Belt.
Capture tape, handed out by U.A upon Aizawa's request.
First-aid supplies.
Miniature notebook for notes.
Ballpoint pen for writing notes.
Chalk for erasable markings.
Cellphone.
A couple hundred yen for a quick meal.
Two granola bars and a small flask of water to avoid spending the yen.
Family photo (Inko and Izuku).
Chapter End Notes
This one took a little extra planing and isn't quite as long as I want it to be, but I still
like how it turned out.
Anyways, if you're curious about Burst Style, I came up with it for a good reason.
Shoot Style is meant to stake the load off of Izuku's arms because he can't risk
damaging them. Here, he doesn't have to worry about that. Therefore he will use
something different. I actually intend to add a couple more styles down the line to
make Izuku a more rounded fighter.
I've also gotten some comments about pairings and time skips. For the latter, there
won't be any major ones. Maybe a week or so every now and then, but nothing crazy
like two months. And for pairings? I dunno. I'm not feeling a need for romance in this
story right now. That might change of course, and if it does, the most likely candidate
is Nejire. Or Mirio. I'd say Tamaki too, but that wouldn't be a good ship for me to
work with.
Thanks for reading! Cheers.

Goodbye, Hawks, Hello, Teachers
Chapter Notes
For a while, all Izuku can do is stare, frozen in shock. The two thieves, both average-looking men
in their mid to late twenties, strain against their bonds, but it's to no avail. U.A doesn't skimp on
their capture tape; only Quirk-enhanced strength could break it, and it's apparently partly fireproof.
But that's not the important part.
Izuku caught villains.
He saved someone. Sort of.
The worst that could've happened was a lost or totaled car, but neither of those are exactly small
things, either.
He helped someone, Izuku decides. He didn't hesitate and acted when he saw a situation he could
help. The sheer pride and fulfillment he feels is comparable to when he first used One for All
without hurting himself. It's… exhilarating.
"Hey, hey, not half bad," Hawks compliments, gently landing on the roof of the car that was
almost stolen. "You caught me off guard there—that's pretty hard to do. Let's see if you can
manage it again."
With that, he takes off again, and Izuku follows. With the beating of wings and the small gusts
generated with each burst, the pair climb high. Izuku is still lagging behind, but it's at a fraction of
what it was before.
Hawks leads him in random directions across the city and instructs Izuku to keep one eye on the
ground. Even if he doesn't have enhanced vision like his teacher, another pair of eyes looking down
would be helpful.
It's also a really great view.
Like last night, Izuku can spot the streets and buildings, but unlike last night, he can see people,
too. With the lower altitude, he spots people walking their dogs, cars cruising down the streets, and
the occasional bird that flies below them.
Hawks swiftly makes two arrests, stopping an armed robbery and a purse-snatcher before anyone
can even realize what's going on. Izuku watches carefully, taking mental notes on how Hawks
operates.
The common theme is overwhelming speed and needle-point precision rather than brute force.
Hawks also carefully limits how many feathers he uses, only expending two for the robbery and
one for the purse thief. It's an interesting style, one that isn't as common in modern heroics, which
favors raw power and flashiness. Izuku finds that he likes Hawks' style and begins to think about
how he could do something similar.
He'd need a ranged attack, for one. Close-quarters combat would take longer than ranged, if only
for the fact that the distance has to be closed. But Izuku doesn't have any ranged attacks. Well, he
does, but they break his bones.
Delaware Smash is powerful but also wild and uncontrollable, and that's not even getting into the
fact that it can only be used eight times. All Might and Recovery Girl have made it clear that Izuku
is to avoid broken bones at all costs, so finger flicks are out.
But there are other options, too. All Might uses full arm punches that generate wind all the time.
The air pressure usually pales in comparison to the force of the blunt impact, but if it could be
focused correctly, it might be something strong enough to work with. But it all relies on if Izuku
could get enough power out of a fourteen percent punch, which—
"Focus on flying!" Hawks' voice jars Izuku out of his thoughts, and he nearly loses a grip on Float.
"Sorry!" he says, leveling out. The two of them are currently a couple hundred meters above the
city streets. Hawks is flying backwards as Izuku hurriedly tries to regain his bearings.
The hero's eyes narrow. "Is that how you've been flying this whole time?"
Izuku nods. "Yeah, is it wrong?" His legs are ramrod straight and locked together, and his arms are
snug to his side.
"Oh yeah, it's wrong." Hawks stops moving, hovering in the air. Izuku does the same and changes
position so he's perpendicular to the ground. "See, I've got wings to help with the aerodynamics of
my human body. Without them, I'd have an awful time trying to fight the wind pressure. You're
trying to fly in the same position as me, almost flat as a board. Don't."
"What should I do instead?"
"Hold your arms out at an angle." Hawks demonstrates, raising the entirety of both of his arms so
the angle between his body and the limbs is roughly forty degrees. "Also, don't square your
shoulders. Spread your legs too."
Izuku maneuvers into the pose Hawks suggested, finding it to be comfortable. Whether it'll work or
not will have to be seen, but if a seasoned pro says it will, it's probably a good bet.
Hawks looks Izuku over and nods in satisfaction. "That's better. When you get back to UA, ask for
a costume change. Tell them to make you better-suited for flight. They'll know what to do."
Izuku thanks the hero, and the two set off again, on the hunt for more villains. The rest of patrol is
less interesting. Izuku still picks up a lot, mostly on how to react to different situations along with
the importance of reflexes and quick thinking, but nothing big happens.
Instead of ten hours of patrol like yesterday, Hawks calls it quits after seven, claiming that he'll
make up for it tomorrow or later in the evening. Izuku makes it back to the agency by one thirty
and happily eats a plate of some kind of cooked bird while he writes down as much as he can in his
notebook, which he stores in his costume case.
After lunch, Izuku is given a couple hours to rest, which he spends reading articles and old studies
on air-based heroes. He also makes sure to text his mom that his second patrol went well. Izuku
also sends a quick message to Noburo, saying that he already caught two villains and made
headway with his Quirk. He gets a thumbs up back along with a selfie of Noburo in front of the
agency while in her costume.
When the digital alarm clock in his room shows four PM, Izuku promptly shuts his phone off and
slips into his red high tops. He hadn't bothered to take off his whole costume, but he does have to
put on the gloves, belt, and respirator. Once that's done, he steps out of the room and nearly walks
into Talon's chest.
The both of them take large steps back and stand in silence for a while. Finally, the sidekick
speaks.
"Follow me," he says, pointing down the hall. "There's a training room in the basement that the
boss wants us to spar in."
Izuku thanks Talon and follows him to the elevator. They take the car down, awkwardly looking
away from each other while a pop-styled instrumental plays through the speakers. The elevator
eventually comes to a stop, and the two of them step out, right into a massive room easily the size
of Izuku's floor back at his apartment and twice as tall.
"Yes, it's impressive, but don't let it distract you," Talon says, stepping forward into the room,
which is padded like a wrestling mat. "We're going to fight now. Hopefully you'll apply everything
you learned yesterday successfully."
Izuku nods and shakes out his somewhat stiff legs. "Can I have a moment to stretch?"
"Sure."
After two minutes of thorough stretching, Izuku stands before Talon, ready for a fight. The
sidekick has already put on the gloves that cover his deadly claws and gently beats his wings up
and down. Without warning, he rushes.
Izuku, far from being caught off guard, activates One for All at ten percent and dashes to the side.
Talon banks to follow him, turning tightly and attacking feetfirst. In response, Izuku goes high,
pushing as hard as he can on the floor and hitting the ceiling. Bouncing off the roof with a kick,
Izuku tries to get the drop on Talon. The man easily dodges, however, spiraling around Izuku's
attack as he climbs higher in the air.
The fight turns more into a chase after that. Izuku bounces around the room, familiar with fighting
when there are walls and a ceiling, using a burst or two of Float to add more speed to his
maneuvers. Talon trails behind, trying to corral Izuku into a corner or a wall, but the boy takes care
to not go anywhere near a corner and doesn't stay near walls for long.
Of course, they can't play tag forever. Both of them want to test Izuku's direct combat capabilities,
so Talon allows himself to slow down after a couple of minutes. Izuku notices and uses a quick
burst to make some space before turning and launching an offensive.
Talon is good at dodging, Izuku finds. Every punch he throws is expertly ducked or blocked, and
he's forced into a slow-paced aerial boxing match by Talon's counters.
Deciding that he doesn't want to fight like this, Izuku shuts off his Quirk completely, using Talon's
surprise to latch onto his leg. The trainee drags the sidekick down with him, turning One for All
back on just before he hits the ground and absorbing the impact with his legs. Talon also hits the
ground, though much less gracefully. Izuku capitalizes on this, going in for a grapple. This is a
mistake.
Talon's Quirk-enhanced strength is probably on par with two or three percent One for All. In
theory, Izuku should be able to easily overpower him. But Talon has, well, talons, and he uses
them. In less than a second after his tackle, Izuku finds himself with sharp claws digging into his
lower calves and is forced to release his opponent, lest he be injured. Talon, noticing this, uses his
wings to change positions so Izuku is the one being pinned. In a flash, the boy is flat on his back
with two very sharp black claws resting on his face.
"I win," Talon says, stepping off of Izuku. "You did better that time."
"Thanks." Izuku stands and brushes off the front of his costume. He's a little banged up, but it's not
bad compared to some of the early training sessions he had with Gran Torino. "What now?"
Talon checks his watch. "More spars," he settles on. "We'll keep fighting until Hawks returns, and
then you'll go on another patrol before bed. That's your schedule for the week, so you'd better like
it."
The rest of the internship passes in a blink. Izuku makes no more villain captures but leaves Hawks
Hero Agency with a concrete understanding of air-to-air combat as well as how to conduct an air-
to-ground takedown. He also uses his downtime to think through his new Burst Style and toy with
air blast attacks on paper. By the time he's called back to U.A, he feels ready for anything, but only
after a quick meeting.
[x]
"You what?" Toshinori winces as Gran Torino nearly drops his mug of hot coffee. "You're
supposed to make your own style, not copy mine!"
Young Midoriya doesn't bother with arguing and continues to warm up. "It's just a stopgap for
now," he claims. "It's just that with the base speed, I'm not quick enough. Here, watch." He takes
off in a flash, trailing light as he bounces from wall to wall. But on closer inspection, he's not even
bothering with the walls. Midoriya is changing directions midair. And at a much faster rate than
usual.
"How..." Toshinori says, puzzled despite the fact that it was explained to him not even a minute
earlier.
"I don't know, the brat muttered up a storm, like usual." Gran Torino takes a disgruntled sip of his
drink. "At least he's progressed to imitating me instead of you. I'd call that improvement."
Young Midoriya stops short and comfortably suspends himself a few feet off the ground. "I call it
Burst Style! What do you think, All Might?"
"It's quite impressive, my boy," Toshinori says, already seeing the practical applications. "We'll
talk more about it later. What else did you learn with Hawks? I know you said you made your first
catch."
"Stuff about air fighting, and he mentioned pacing a lot. Oh! I also had this idea for long-ranged
attacks." Midoriya descends, pulling out his notebook. "I know one hundred percent is enough to
make a flick of my fingers generate wind, which is a powerful attack. But I can't do it without
hurting myself, so I thought of this." The notebook is thrust into Toshinori's arms, who quickly
looks it over.
There's a sketch of a column of wind extending from a finger and another below it showing a whole
arm with the same, though with less air. The arm is marked 14%? with a flurry of notes below it.
Toshinori passes the notebook to Gran Torino, who also takes a look.
"You'll have trouble focusing the air," Gran Torino says almost immediately. "Nana didn't use air
blasts like that often, mostly because she needed to use One for All at her… I think it was sixty
percent, to do it. I'm not sure because she could always use it at full power. Anyways, my point is
that when she did use that type of stuff, it was always for a wide area or a large target, and it didn't
have a lot of umph."
Young Midoriya nods. "I thought about that, and I could talk to the support teacher and get help.
Power Loader is really good at what he does, but if there's no way to focus the air, then I can still
use it for clearing out wide areas."
Gran Torino looks to his former student. "What do you think, Toshinori?"
The taller man thinks for a moment. "We'd better go out to the roof for testing. Gran has a point—
these air blasts have a wide range of effect. It's why I use them sparingly and only in open areas
with no structures," he says. Midoriya's face lights up.
It's a partial success. Young Midoriya's arm aches after throwing a punch at fourteen percent, but it
does manifest a half-decent blast of wind. It's enough to knock over a grown man point-blank and
travels a good ten meters before stopping. But true to Gran Torino's word, the area of effect is
wide, and the power weakens sharply as it travels.
"I can't wait to try this out at school," Midoriya says, excited as the three of them all head down
into the basement for coffee and biscuits. "Mr. Aizawa is always talking about pushing limits, so I
bet he'll like that I'm coming up with new stuff all the time. I'm not sure how he'll work it into my
schedule, though…"
Toshinori chuckles. "That won't be a problem."
Midoriya's head swivels over to his teacher startlingly fast. "What does that mean?"
"It's a secret," Toshinori explains. They're in the basement now, all seated around a low table.
"But—"
"Be patient," Gran Torino butts in. "You've got school tomorrow, and you'll see what he means
then. You kids these days can't even wait a day. It's ridiculous."
"But it sounds important!"
"That's because it is, so bite your tongue and wait!"
Midoriya seems a bit bummed for a moment, but a spark soon appears in his eye. "I saw Nana last
week."
Toshinori very early spits out his coffee. "Pardon?"
"Yep, she took me flying and said I'd get another Quirk soon." He looks up and eyes the shelf
behind Gran Torino, which is the one that holds the notebook containing the Quirks of the
previous holders.
"Oh no you don't," Gran says, catching on. "Can't get one secret, so you go for another. I may be
old, but I've got a brain still."
"But it's important! What if I manifest one and don't know what to do?"
"Then we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. Now drink your coffee and go home to your
mother. God knows she deserves some time with her boy."
[x]
It's funny, really. Izuku doesn't feel like he's on his own until he steps into classroom 1-A and finds
it empty.
He was fine recounting his internship to his mom, along with Noburo's heartfelt goodbye. He was
happy when he told Gran and All Might that he caught his first villains, and downright ecstatic
when he showed off Burst Style. He was fine on the train ride to school, too, so one would assume
that it would continue throughout the day, but no.
His footsteps echo through the classroom. The air is still and dead. The light is now dull and
lifeless rather than bright. Everything feels sterile, and Izuku notices for the first time that the room
is almost bare. Mr. Aizawa apparently doesn't like decorations.
He takes his seat, uncomfortably getting all of his supplies out for a regular homeroom. The bell
rings shortly after, and Eraserhead steps in not a second later. He looks exhausted, Izuku notes. The
bags under his eyes are much darker, and there appear to be more wrinkles than usual. His hair
looks unwashed, and his stubble is nearly a short beard.
"Good morning," Aizawa says, blinking slowly to moisten his dry eyes.
"Good morning, sir," Izuku says back. His voice is quiet and completely inoffensive like it was
back in middle school. The room is too stifling for it to be anything else.
Aizawa sighs, slouching up against the wall. "I trust your internship went well."
"That's right, sir." Izuku twitches, half-tempted to show off his new notes. "I captured my first
villain and learned a lot."
"Good, good." Aizawa almost seems to fall asleep, which is odd because the man always seems
alert, even when he looks half-dead. It only lasts a short moment, however, because his expression
suddenly changes to something serious. He walks around the podium and stands right in front of
Izuku's desk, arms crossed.
"Do you truly wish to be a hero that can do anything?" the teacher asks.
"Yes," Izuku answers, confident in his goal.
"Why." Aizawa looks at the boy for a long moment before taking the silence as a signal to
continue. "It's a simple question. Why do you want to be that kind of hero? Is it for fame? Respect?
For the money? Or are you the type who wants to be the strongest guy around?"
"It's for none of those," Izuku whispers, his confidence a bit shaken by his teacher's stern voice.
"What was that?" Aizawa cocks his head to the side. "I can't hear you. Speak up."
"It's because—"
"Because what," Aizawa snaps out his words. "Tell me why. Why be someone strong when you
could settle for something easier. Tell m—"
"All Might can't last forever!" Izuku shouts, almost jumping from the volume of his own voice.
"He… we all depend on him, but he's not getting any younger. I want… I want to make sure that
when he's gone, there's no worry. So I can do what he does and keep people safe. I can't do that if
I'm not ready for anything!"
Aizawa's face softens somewhat before morphing into an almost devilish smile. "Then follow me.
And grab your notebook."
His homeroom teacher leads him swiftly through the halls of the school. He takes a similar route to
the one he led Izuku, Oto, Noburo down to get to the principal's office, only this time he doesn't get
on an elevator. He takes the stairs instead, going up a flight and turning into a long, well-lit hallway
with numbered rooms every ten feet. Aizawa goes all the way down to the end and stops in front of
a tall steel door marked Meeting Room 0-I.
Grabbing the handle and giving it a turn, Aizawa opens the door and waves Izuku in first. Stepping
in, Izuku sees a long rectangular table with five chairs, three on one side, two on the other. There's
a window in the back, letting lots of natural light in.
"Take a seat," Aizawa says, gesturing to the side of the table with three chairs. Izuku sits in the
middle seat.
There's an electric burner on the table, with a kettle sitting on top of it, and two small ceramic jars
of what must be sugar and tea. A glass of milk rests on a small doily, and if Izuku strains his ears,
he can hear the faint sound of bubbling water.
Aizawa takes a seat across from Izuku and dips his head, as though asleep. They wait for roughly
five minutes before the door swings open. Izuku looks over and sees All Might, slimmed down,
smiling, and wearing a loose-fitting black suit.
"Mr. Yagi?" Izuku asks, getting up from his chair. "What are you doing here?"
All Might greets Izuku with a quick pat on the shoulder. "I'm your personal teacher, remember?
We're here to work out your new regimen."
"'We'?" Izuku says, looking around All Might's shoulder.
"Yeah, kid. 'We.'" Gran Torino walks through the door, looking a bit strange not wearing a hero
costume or baggy clothes. He's in a pair of khakis, with a light blue button-down tucked into a
brown belt with a massive buckle. "Don't stare at me. I'm not the last one in."
"Then who—"
"He's talking about me, Midoriya," the warm, high-pitched voice of Nedzu comes through the
door. The principal himself hops up onto the table directly from the floor, his ever-present tea
missing. "It's been a while since we've spoken. I trust you've been learning a lot?"
"Yes, sir, I have." Izuku fidgets, not sure if he should sit down. "Just last week with Hawks, I
learned a lot of things hands-on."
"Oh, I'm sure." Nedzu walks across the table and lifts up the lid of the kettle. He spoons in some
tea leaves from one of the jars and kills the heat from the burner. "We'll let that steep for a bit.
Please, all of you, take a seat. Aizawa, I ask that you start paying attention now."
Gran and All Might take the seats on either side of Izuku, who finds himself feeling comfortable in
his spot. Aizawa wakes up from his fake nap and immediately applies some eye drops before
resting his hands on the table and sitting up straight.
"I am Aizawa Shota," he says, keeping half of his attention on Nedzu, who's delicately setting up
an expensive-looking tea set. "You probably know this already, but I'm Midoriya's homeroom
teacher. Who are the two of you?"
"I am Yagi Toshinori," All Might answers, "his personal trainer. And this is Torino Sorahiko, a
former teacher of this school and a veteran hero with sixty years of active duty."
"And counting," Gran adds. "I put in more hours last week than that oaf All Might." Izuku finds
himself torn between suppressing a laugh at the subtle dig and expressing his annoyance at the
insult. In the end, he can't do either and snorts loudly, not missing the strange look he gets from
Aizawa and the gleam in Nedzu's eyes.
"You taught at this school," Aizawa focuses on, deciding to ignore Izuku, who's unable to meet
anyone's eye. "For how long?"
"Just a year." Gran Torino slouches back in his chair. "I'm not good at dealing with youngsters.
Midoriya here already drives me up a wall enough as it is, so you can imagine how I'd do in a
classroom."
"Yes," Aizawa says, turning to Nedzu. "Forgive me, but I thought Ms. Midoriya would be here,
not… these two." His tone suggests that he's more exasperated than angry, but it's hard to tell with
the man.
"I contacted Midoriya Inko just last night," Nedzu replies, picking up the kettle and pouring a cup
for himself. "She said it was alright so long as she got a schedule sent to her. She trusts our
professional opinions. Tea, anyone?"
Tea is quickly poured into two more cups, one for All Might and the other for Izuku. Aizawa lets
them enjoy their drinks for a moment before he speaks again.
"I trust that you have sixty years in, Torino—Nedzu wouldn't have let you in otherwise—but I can't
trust that you're qualified to teach. There's more to it than knowing more than your student."
Aizawa locks eyes with Gran and All Might in turn. "And you didn't give your occupation. Are you
a professional personal trainer?"
"First of all," Gran spoke up, squaring his shoulders and crossing his arms, "I very vividly
remember the first day All Might himself walked into my classroom. He was puking his guts out
ten minutes later, like the idiot he was, and, frankly, stil—"
All Might coughs, cutting off Gran's rant before it can truly begin. "Sorahiko has a license to take
on hero trainees, and held a conventional teaching license for three years back in the day. I myself
am very experienced with weight training, dietary plans, and the limits of the human body. As for
my real profession… I help out All Might with his paperwork."
"All Might has his eyes on Midoriya," Aizawa says, like one would say the sky is blue or grass is
green. Toshinori and Izuku both go red in the face and begin to sweat, looking anywhere but
Aizawa. Gran Torino only smirks.
"My, my, what a twist." Nedzu takes a short sip of tea, not even trying to hide the fact that he knew
all along. "Aizawa, what should we do about this?"
"Have a meeting with the Symbol of Peace himself." Aizawa locks eyes with All Might, who
subconsciously squeezes his own thighs to make sure that they're still skinny. "But I doubt that's
something that can happen, right, Yagi?"
"No, not at all," All Might says a little too quickly. To the left of him, Gran Torino resists the urge
to facepalm. "All Might is very busy with his hero duties and only very rarely checks in on the boy.
It's mostly me and Sorahiko."
Aizawa studies Izuku carefully. "He has potential," the teacher agrees, "I'd be a fool to deny that.
But why does the man who's held the top spot for over thirty years have interest in a high school
freshman?"
"All Might thinks Midoriya has the right stuff," Gran says before Toshinori or Izuku can say
anything.
"The right stuff for what?"
"That six hundred pound lunk of muscle ain't exactly a spring chicken anymore," Gran explains.
"He'll be heroing for a while yet, but at the rate he's going? He'll have to retire in the next twenty
years or so. All Might is the type to make sure we don't all die in the inevitable collapse after he
quits."
"And so Midoriya is his champion of sorts," Aizawa finishes. He sighs. "With the similar Quirks
and ridiculous work ethic, I can't say that he's a bad choice."
"Yes, I quite agree," All Might nods, satisfied that they've gotten through.
"I think we all understand each other now," Nedzu smiles. Like the last time Izuku saw it, the
expression is just a little too bright to be genuine. "Shall we talk details?"
"Fine."
It takes hours. Six, to be exact. They even have lunch brought up to them, All Might casting a few
not-so-subtle envious looks at Izuku's cut of steak as he sips on his smoothie.
It takes hours, but they get it done. The final product is something that would make anyone with
even the slightest doubt of conviction pause. Luckily, Izuku doesn't harbor such doubts.
Izuku is to spend a total of thirteen hours a day on hero training, five days a week. He'll run every
morning and lift weights every day except Saturday. U.A will coordinate lessons with Gran Torino
to make sure they don't work on the same things during school and after. Izuku will spend time
learning from the Support teachers as well as the Business ones. He'll have one-on-one blocks with
Thirteen, Aizawa, Present Mic, and U.A's martial arts expert. But the crowning jewel of Izuku's
unholy schedule is private lessons with Nedzu.
Aizawa, All Might, and Gran all protest against it, but they can't find a single flaw in it. Nedzu is a
very intelligent fighter. Izuku has the makings of one. It would be stupid to not let it happen. So
Izuku happily agrees to it, not noticing the dread radiating off of every adult human in the room.
What's the worst that could happen?
Chapter End Notes
For Izuku? Not a lot. For anyone he fights verbally, physically or in any other shape or
form? Everything.
I'm a big fan of fighters who aren't afraid to be mean, and I love fights with a lot of
thinking involved. It's why I really like watching Nedzu fight, and I want Izuku to get
good at that type of stuff too.
Anyways, I didn't intend for this one to be a Meeting of Izuku's Familial Figures Plus
One Questionably Sane Rat but here we are. All we need is a Dad for One, Eri, and
Kota and we've got a full on Deku found family.
PS, next one will have a member of the big three, ok? Bye.
Training Montage
Chapter Notes
Thanks for 2k kudos!
"So, Midoriya." Nedzu carefully sets up a rather expensive-looking chessboard on the coffee table
between him and Izuku. All the pieces look hand-carved with such detail that no normal human
could produce. "What do you expect from our meetings?"
Izuku studies the board. He's never been all that interested in chess, but he does know how to play.
It was a product of many lonely nights spent waiting for his mother to return home. "You said you
wanted to teach me," he starts. Nedzu nods and waits for him to continue. "I guess that you'll be
helping me with regular academics?"
"That's part of it," the principal agrees. He pours two matching mugs of green tea, the fragrance
filling the room as steam wafts into the air. "But there's more. Do you play?"
"A little," Izuku says. "White goes first, correct?"
"Correct. You may move whenever you like." Nedzu touches each of his pieces in turn, making
tiny, unnoticeable adjustments. Izuku settles for moving his queen's pawn forward two spaces.
"My job is to teach you what I feel you need, Midoriya." Nedzu moves a pawn to stop Izuku's from
moving forward. "Does that make sense?"
"Yes," Izuku says, bringing a bishop into play. The wood is surprisingly soft to touch, and there
isn't a single sharp edge except for the little cut in the front. "What do you think I need to learn?"
"The better question is what don't you need to learn." Nedzu moves another pawn, attacking
Izuku's bishop. The boy quickly moves it back to its original position, looking a bit confused.
"What I mean is that being All Might's successor isn't something simple. Do you know of any
former number one heroes?"
"Yeah, the first one was Bolt Thrower, way back in the early 2200s," Izuku says, moving his pawn
that’s furthest to the right. "He had a pretty powerful electric Quirk for the time. He only held the
spot for two years before he was discharged for criminal brutality."
"That's correct." Nedzu brings one of his knights out from behind his line of pawns. "There are
others, of course, but do you know what they all have in common?" Izuku shakes his head and
moves a random piece, interested more in what the principal had to say than the game. "None of
them were anything special."
"What?" Izuku says, watching Nedzu move his other knight. "They made them number one, that's
gotta be worth something."
"True," Nedzu admits. "But not one of them could stack up to All Might or even Endeavor. You
should ask Yagi why he became a symbol later today and see what he says. My point here is that
they weren't like All Might. They were driven, sure, but by desire for wealth, power, or other
things. They focused on being as flashy as possible and trained for high profile villain fights."
"But those are important parts of modern heroics, too," Izuku defends, moving a pawn. It's quickly
captured and he moves another piece to attack the bishop responsible.
"Yes, but you want to be more like All Might, and not like the other former number ones." Nedzu
pulls his bishop back. "And, if you ask me, you should also strive to be a better hero than All
Might."
"I'm already working on that," Izuku replies, moving his queen to better defend his king. "That's
how One for All works, right? The student surpasses the master."
"I said better, not more powerful." Nedzu brings his other bishop out, capturing an exposed pawn.
"Those are two very different things. Theoretically, anyone off the street could inherit One for All
and grow to be stronger than All Might. But you'd need to look hard to find one who could be
better."
"Do you think I could be better than All Might?" Izuku asks. Nedzu nods. "How? All Might is…
he's just so him."
"Yagi has always been able to use One for All at full power, and was Quirkless beforehand.
Because of that, he adopted a rather basic style and moveset. It's worked wonderfully for him—'I
fear not the man who has practiced ten thousand kicks once, but I fear the man who has practiced
one kick ten thousand times.' Do you understand?"
"I think so." Izuku's hand itches to go for his notebook. "By sticking to the basics, All Might can
apply them to any situation. He's just so powerful that even the simplest of attacks can be
devastating, and he's gotten so good at using his limited moves that they'll basically work for
anything."
"Yes! Bravo!" Nedzu claps. "But do you see how the same won't work for you?"
"Yes." Izuku reaches for his backpack and pulls out his notebook. "I won't be as strong as him for a
while, so if I stick to one kick, or even five, I won't be good enough. I need to add more moves to
my arsenal so I'm ready for more diverse situations."
"And that's what I'm here to help you with." Nedzu smiles as Izuku scribbles in his notes. "My
small stature and keen intellect force me to come up with unorthodox and, frankly, absurd
solutions to even the most simple problems. Similarly, your lack of raw power is what forced you
to come up with Full Cowling and Burst Style.
"I'm going to teach you how to do more with less, think both in and out of the box, and how to
make decisions in a fight. We'll go over your options, revise your style, and even run through
hypothetical situations. But first”—Nedzu's eyes gleam in a way that seems primal—"Aizawa tells
me you're quite the amateur Quirk analyst. Let's look at that first."
[x]
"Hello there, Midoriya!" The voice of Thirteen echoes in their helmet as they walk through the
door of 1-A. "I'm here for your first Rescue 101 lesson. Am I late?"
"Not at all!" Izuku says. He's already changed into his hero gear for the day, mostly so he can get
used to it quickly. "You're actually a bit early."
"Perfect." Thirteen walks deeper into the room and taps on the board with one of their metal-tipped
fingers. The screen flickers on and shows a chart divided into six portions. Upon closer inspection,
it lists the basic protocols for the main kinds of rescue. "Do you already have all of this down? I
know it's been awhile since we've had a rescue workshop, what with the Sports Festival and all."
"I do." Izuku pulls out a notebook he'd dedicated exclusively for rescue stuff and shows it to the
teacher.
"Stellar! Please, follow me." Thirteen takes a few steps towards the door and then pauses for Izuku
to follow. He gets up, and they begin to walk through the halls of U.A. "You know, some key
aspects of rescue operations are overlooked by the public. I know it wasn't the best day for you, but
we touched on it back at the USJ, remember?"
"I remember. Only the worst of the worst get televised, right?"
"Yes, but that's not the only thing." Thirteen's shoulders turn a bit, like they're looking back but it's
difficult to do so with the full spacesuit. "Who do the cameras focus on when a rescue is in the
making?"
Izuku thinks for a moment. "It depends on what's happening," he decides.
"Explain, please."
"Well, before the rescue, I'd say the cameras would focus on the problem, be it a natural disaster or
a man-made one. But during and after the rescue, the hero that made the biggest impact would.
And maybe the victim if they're alright." Izuku nervously plays with his utility belt. He's not all
that confident with rescue stuff yet; it's just not what he focused on as a kid. "Is that right?"
"Yes, you answered perfectly," Thirteen reassures. "But do you know what the cameras aren't
showing?"
"No," Izuku says honestly.
"That's okay, you're here to learn. The basic info I'm trying to teach you here is that there's so
much that goes into a successful rescue." Thirteen holds up a hand and starts to put up fingers.
"First responders, scouts, first-aid, heroes on standby if the situation worsens, and, if it's bad
enough, people who set up first-aid stations, helipads, and resting areas for rescuers."
The two of them stop walking, having gone out of the building and into a fake suburban
neighborhood, which, while nothing compared to the fake city deeper into campus, is still very
impressive. "After today, I want you to leave my class with an understanding of what you should
do in the most common types of rescue operations. Got it?"
Izuku nods, tugging on his gloves a little tighter. "Got it."
[x]
"Stealth. What do you know?"
Izuku rubs the bottom of his chin, torn between looking Eraserhead in the eye and pulling out his
notes. "Noth… not a lot," he says, "I know that the right color to wear at night is navy blue, not
black, and that most of the time people don't look up."
Eraserhead nods, causing his scarf to shift down just enough to reveal his yellow goggles. "Those
are both correct statements, but they also barely scratch the surface of sneaking and taking care of
things quietly. Do you know how to breathe?"
"Ye—"
"No, you don't." Aizawa gestures to the room around them, which is modeled after a rundown
warehouse. It's brightly lit, but there's a switch in the corner that will douse the place into darkness.
"In a place like this, and especially in confined spaces, sound will echo a lot. I want you to take a
couple of seconds and just breathe normally. Get a feel for how loud it is."
Izuku does as the man says and finds that, when he inhales or exhales, the noise is way louder than
he would have ever thought. "How do I fix this?" he asks.
"Breathe slowly," Aizawa coaches. "Work on breathing in through your nose as quietly as possible.
The volume of air is going to be less due to the slower speed, so you might have to inhale for
upwards of twenty seconds. When you're full of air, don't hold it. Instead, open your mouth and let
it drift out. Got it?"
"Yes," Izuku says, already starting to practice.
"Not now, kid," Aizawa stops him. "Do that on your own time or when you do homework."
"But then what are we doing now?"
Aizawa smirks and pulls out two strips of cloth from his belt. "We're playing blind tag. No flying.
I'm it first."
Izuku swallows, already foreseeing how badly he'll lose. "Yes, sir."
[x]
Martial arts is something Izuku hasn't really considered much in a heroics setting. Sure, it seems
like common sense to hone the body as well as whatever Quirk you may have, but he'd never really
had an in-depth think about it. Until now.
"You have a strengthening Quirk, no?" UA's top hand-to-hand combatant, a man by the hero name
Mr. Pink, says. His costume consists only of a hot pink gi that comically screeches over his bulging
muscles. "What do you intend to do against someone just as strong as you? Or someone stronger?
Or someone like me, who knows exactly how to counter you?"
Izuku stares for a moment. "Sir, I don't think you'd know exactly how to counter me," he says as
respectfully as possible.
"Do you doubt my skill?" Mr. Pink snaps.
"No, sir! Not at all. It's just that—"
"It's just nothing! Come at me, now!" the teacher orders, his long and dangly mustache swaying as
his lips move. Izuku, clad in his gym uniform bottoms and a black tank top, reluctantly raises his
fists and activates One for All at one percent. "I'm waiting."
Izuku doesn't bother with Float, instead rushing forward as fast as one percent will allow. When he
gets to be a couple of feet away from the man, he steps to the side, intending to tackle his teacher
from behind before he can react. He fails terribly.
Mr. Pink sees the attack coming from a mile away and spins to dodge Izuku's tackle. He follows up
with one of his own, using the boy's lack of balance to drive him into the padded floor of the
wrestling room. Izuku is almost instantly placed in a chokehold. "Do you doubt me now, boy?"
Mr. Pink asks, not quite putting enough pressure on Izuku's windpipe to choke him but certainly
enough to be uncomfortable.
"No, sir," Izuku wheezes, trying to regain the air that was just knocked out of his lungs. Mr. Pink
mercifully lets him go.
After they both get up, the teacher looks at the student critically. "I'll be teaching you a unique
form of mixed martial arts with an emphasis on working with your small stature. It'll be a
combination of Judo, western-style wrestling, and Krav Maga. We'll work on throws and Muay
Thai aspects as well. If you can, ask Midnight to teach you acrobatics—it'll be a great help with
your flexibility. Are you ready?"
"Yes, sir!"
[x]
"... and if you want to go for something more stylish but at the same time keep the function-over-
form approach, adding different shades of green to your suit and belt would be a great idea."
Midnight carefully traces her pencil over a section of her drawing, darkening the underside of the
fake hero's gloves. Beside her, Izuku carefully does the same but on a sketch of his own costume.
"Thanks," he says, "but I plan on talking to Power Loader about making at least the upper chest
area more streamlined. I'm not sure how he'll do it, so I can't say that I'll be able to use this."
"Oh, that's not a problem." Midnight reaches beside their shared desk and into a basket of rolled-up
poster paper. She pulls out a tube and removes the rubber band. Rolling it out onto the table, it
reveals a woman in a costume. She has a pair of small wings sticking out of the back and a rather
peculiar set of armor.
"This is Peregrine," Midnight says, "an alum of UA. She's got a basic flight Quirk, and her costume
is specifically designed for better aerodynamics. Have a look."
Izuku studies the drawing carefully. The perspective of her front doesn't give away much but does
show that her shoulder plates are rounded off. The side does a better job of showing the curves of
her armor. The front starts off nearly flat at the top, only rounding to better fit her chest. But the
bottom of her armor sticks out a bit, with curves on her thighs to allow for better lift and spoiler-
like fins on the back of her calves. The back, by contrast, is almost flat. Overall, the design looks
good, and taps into a more angelic look, with whites and light greys. The armor itself, though, is
stylish on its own. It's intricately designed, almost to the point of being overboard.
"I don't think I'll have anything this extreme," Izuku says, "but I get it. Plates can be painted and
also designed to look good, too."
"There you go." Midnight rolls up the sketch and places it back in the basket. "You're definitely the
function-over-form type, but that's not a bad thing. Just remember that people have to be inspired
by you, and that starts with a good costume." She checks the clock. "We've got a half hour left. Do
you have any other questions?"
"Um, just one." Izuku awkwardly taps his pencil on the desk. "Could you give me a few pointers
on acrobatics and that kind of stuff? My martial arts teacher says I need to be more flexible."
Midnight smiles warmly, but it quickly turns into something a little more sinister. "Oh, kiddo, I can
help you with flexibility. By the time I'm done with you, you'll be a human pretzel."
[x]
"Huh, these aren't half bad specs for a first timer." Power Loader walks over from the literal
drawing board, which has Izuku's new costume design pinned on it, over to a basket full of scrap
metal. "I can definitely get you what you want; the Hero Commission is pretty flexible when it
comes to mobility stuff."
"That's great." Izuku pulls out his notebook, or rather, one of his many. Nedzu has him categorizing
now, and he has separate ones for Quirks, costumes, special moves, every one of the regular
civilian subjects, and hero laws. He also has one for support items, which is the one he intends to
show to Power Loader. "I have one more question, though."
The support head sets a sheet of aluminum on the table and pulls out a sharpie. "What is it?"
Opening the notebook and putting it down on the metal, Izuku points to a sketch. "I want to shoot
compressed air, but I can't focus it enough and it's not as powerful as I like. Is this a viable
solution?"
Power Loader looks at the drawing for a bit. The premise is nothing special, just a simple series of
cups that slide out around his hand to better guide the air. "That's something that I'll need to talk to
my HC guy about." Power Loader points to the cups. "That is technically a Quirk enhancer, and
Quirk enhancers are a touchy subject. You can have storage systems for what you emit without any
issue, but something that literally strengthens your individual attacks? It depends on how powerful
it'll be."
"Well, right now I can generate enough force to knock over a full grown man. Does that help?"
"Do you send the guy flying or just trip him up?"
"Trip them up. Or, actually, I've managed to push a one hundred fifty pound weight back five feet,"
Izuku explains, wanting to be as specific as possible. "Is that specific enough?"
Power Loader nods. "Yeah, you should be good. I'll just need to check in with my guy to keep
everything legal."
"I understand."
"Great." The man claps his hands together. "Now, the notice Nedzu sent me said I should teach
you how to design support items. You've already got a half-decent handle on that, so we won't
have to go over the basics. Let's start with a hypothetical request. A hero with a jumping Quirk
needs something to cushion their landings but doesn't want to be weighed down. Go."
"Go?"
"Yeah, explain to me how you'd solve this problem." He crosses his arms. "This is what actual
support item manufacturers get on a daily basis. So, go."
"Um, alright." Izuku flips to a new page in his notebook. "I'd need the details of the Quirk, first.
How high can they jump? How much do they weigh? Special moves? What kind of stuff do they
expect to see on a regular outing?"
"The person in question is an average Japanese male, fifteen years of age. They're a first year in a
hero academy, so their Quirk isn't developed yet. They can reach a maximum altitude of ten meters
and leap twenty-five meters laterally." Power Loader starts to mark the aluminum in his hands with
the marker, the lines forming some kind of outline. "Also," he says, noticing that Izuku is writing
everything down, "the item should be easy to use, put on, and be comfortable."
"Got it," Izuku mutters, scribbling furiously.
"Try not to give me too much of an idea of what you're going for. I'd like to be surprised by the
final product."
[x]
"Alright, you've been yammering on about pacing ever since you got back from the Heron feller,
so today I'm finally gonna beat it—er, teach you about it." Gran Torino carefully draws a car
speedometer on a sheet of paper, marking a couple points with different numbers, ranging from one
to fourteen.
"His name's Hawks," Izuku protests, fully knowing that it's futile. "And he explained what it
meant."
"Yeah, I'm sure he did," Gran says, just a touch sarcastic. "But did he explain what it means for
you?"
"... No?" Izuku furrows his brow, "Doesn't it mean the same for everyone?"
"On paper, yes." Gran cracks a smile as he shakes the leaf with his drawing on it. "But in reality,
no. Look at this paper and tell me what I'm getting at."
Izuku takes the drawing and looks it over. "My percent are like the gears or the speed of a car," he
catches on almost instantly. "I… used this before, in the Sports Festival. I switched to eight percent
to change my timing."
"It was a smart play," Gran agrees. "But have you done anything like it recently?"
"No, not at all. I've just gone at my maximum this whole time. I have dialed it back a bit so I don't
hurt people, though."
"That's also a smart move. Excessive force lawsuits are no joke." Gran takes the paper back,
crumpling it and tossing the ball into a wastebasket. "Anyways, what do you think will happen if
you stay at the same gear all the time?"
"I'll be easy to predict," Izuku answers. "Or at least, easier to keep up with."
"Correct. How do you fix this?"
"I change gears regularly." Izuku pictures a speedometer in his head. It swings back and forth,
never sticking to the same percent for long. "It would make it more difficult to fight me, but the
concentration needed…"
"That's what I'm here for." Gran gets up from his spot and slips on his familiar domino mask.
"We'll work on this for a couple of hours then you can go home. Toshinori will be here tomorrow."
[x]
"All Might," Izuku says, looking up at the sky. It's dark, and the two of them have just spent the
better part of three hours working on aiming air blasts. "Why did you become a symbol?"
"People couldn't smile, Midoriya," the hero says, eyes flickering between his apprentice and the
night sky. "I don't think you could properly imagine, but almost no one would smile as they walked
down a street. Even in business, hell, their own homes, fear of attack persisted. It was awful..."
"So you worked to get rid of that fear."
"Yes, but that's not all. A false symbol wouldn't work. Sure, people might have been happier, but
they wouldn't have been safe. I wanted the people of this country and the world to be safe and
happy, and free to live their lives without the constant shadow of villainy."
"... I want the same."
A smile and a ruffle to the hair. "That's why you're my successor."
[x]
"Emotional manipulation?" Midoriya's voice seeps through the door, muffled. Aizawa, who has
only just gotten to the door of the private meeting room, stops dead in his tracks. It's starting, he
thinks. They're all as good as dead. "But that's just so… unheroic." Or maybe not.
"Midoriya, I assure you that it's not as heinous as it sounds," the principal says back. His voice is
easier to hear through the door. "Why, you did it back in the festival. Remember the second
event?"
"What about it?"
"Towards the end, you got a great deal of your enemies to fight themselves and not you. It was a
good move, one that saved your spot. How did you do it?"
"I pointed out that they had a better shot at fighting themselves," Midoriya explains. "And they
took my suggestion seriously. But that's not emotional manipulation."
"I'd argue that what you did was a textbook example of manipulation. More specifically, using an
incentive to change someone's behavior."
Or not, Aizawa corrects himself. They're definitely screwed now.
"You see," Nedzu continues, "manipulation gets such a bad rep in mainstream society. It's not
entirely unjustified—I hold no love or respect for abusers—but it's useful. It's ingrained in your
human mind and my animal one. Not to mention that it can be used for good."
"How?"
"Well, for one, All Might manipulates would-be criminals with fear. The crime rate is low because
anyone who might want to rob a bank has to deal with the constant threat of him taking them
down."
"What's another way?"
"Ah, ah, ah," Nedzu chides. "Our time is up. We'll touch more on this tomorrow. Have a good
day!"
The door soon swings open, Midoriya nearly bumping into Aizawa. The boy offers a quick
apology before heading for one of Hizashi's English lessons. Aizawa waits for him to turn the
corner of the hall before entering the room.
"Hello, Aizawa," Nedzu says, pouring himself another mug of tea. "To what do I owe the
pleasure?"
"Midoriya is lonely," he cuts right to the chase.
"But is he really?"
"Sir—"
"Midoriya is busy," Nedzu takes a sip. "His mind is constantly occupied and he is constantly
growing. The boy has the reassurance of his mother and his many teachers. How could he be
lonely?"
"Sir, with all due respect, your understanding of the human psyche is lacking." Aizawa's words
make Nedzu pause so he continues. "Humans are social creatures—teenagers especially. We need
to have peers we see as equals. Midoriya doesn't have that right now. He has mentors instead,
which, while necessary for his development, aren't the same.
"He eats lunch alone, has almost no downtime, and doesn't go out on the weekends. He's had this
schedule for two weeks, and already I can tell he'll be burnt out before finals."
Nedzu stares at Aizawa for a long while, pondering. "I understand," he says. "What do you
propose we do?"
Aizawa hands the man a file. "I have just the student."
[x]
Lessons with Cementoss are always interesting. The quiet teacher always explains his points in
such a way that they make sense and are easy to remember, which is really good because he's in
charge of teaching Izuku (and every other U.A hero student) about structural integrity.
Izuku looks forward to all of his lessons, but the ones like Cementoss', where he was taught how to
best save a life, are his favorite. They make him feel heroic and really treasure the fact that he got
into the top hero school in Japan.
The same reasons are also why he feels crushing disappointment when he walks into Training
Room Gamma and finds it completely empty.
Izuku looks around for a while, and his heart starts to race. Not being around a teacher in a training
room is just plain weird, and it makes him feel antsy. He goes to check the door. Maybe Cementoss
is just late?
Swinging the metal door open, Izuku runs right into what feels like a sturdy wall. He bounces back,
stumbling, but a hand grabs his arms. Izuku looks up. He sees a mop of wild blond hair, a pair of
royal blue eyes, and a happy-looking face with a blinding smile.
"Hey, man. I'm Togata, let's fight!"
Chapter End Notes
Lol I resumed school today and somehow cranked out two thirds of this in-between
classes. I'm gonna go work on a project now.
Oh, and one last thing. This one was ment to be, like, 50% Mirio v. Izuku, but I wrote a
really good ending and the training montage lasted too long to allow a big fight at the
end to make a big impact, so y'all get a cliffhanger. Sorry not sorry.
Enter Lemillion
Chapter Notes
"H-hi." Izuku backs up a bit, and Togata releases his arm. "Um, I'm Midoriya, and I'm not really
sure if—"
"Oh, it's totally fine!" The larger boy brushes past Izuku and enters the warehouse. "Mr. Aizawa,
you can come in now."
A less tired than usual-looking Eraserhead follows the student in. He locks eyes with Izuku.
"You're sparring with him today, got it?" Izuku nods. "Good. Take him seriously and remember
what we've taught you. He's probably one of the stronger second years."
"Hey, thanks, sir!" Togata spins around, having looked around the room the moments previous.
His U.A gym uniform is stretched across his broad shoulders and chest, something Izuku is just a
tad jealous of. The rest of it fits just fine, though the pants look a bit loose. "So, Midoriya, do you
wanna start now? Or maybe we should put our costumes on?"
"Uhh…"
"You're right, we should totally do this in costume. Er, if that's alright." He looks to Aizawa, who
nods.
"Make it quick."
"Perfect." Togata starts to walk to the door, grabbing Izuku by the arm and taking him with. "We'll
be right back!" he calls over his shoulder.
Izuku is quickly led across the hall and into a locker room. Togata, who picks up his costume case
which he left outside the door, lets Izuku in first.
"So," the blond says, opening the case and pulling out a pair of blue pants. "Who'd you pick for
your internship?"
"Hawks," Izuku answers, opening his own case and slipping out of his gym uniform. He puts on
his newly designed pants, which are a slightly darker green with highlights running down the tops
of his thighs and extra padding on the knees and shins. "How about you?"
"Sir Nighteye, the same as my first year." Togata's smile gets even brighter as he tightens his pants.
"He's a really good teacher, and I'm a better hero because of him."
"Wow," Izuku says, a little starry-eyed. "All Might's sidekick himself. I can't even imagine what
that must've been like."
"Intense," Togata informs. He's strapping on a pair of boots now, and a red cape is draped over a
bench. "But also really fun. He loves a good joke."
"I've heard rumors about that, but I never really put much thought into them." Izuku pulls over the
top of his costume, which is a brighter shade than his pants and has patterns of red and black
highlighting the curves of his muscles. "He's just so serious in his interviews that you wouldn't
think he appreciates humor that much. Then again, he did work with All Might for over a
decade…"
"Yeah, Sir really loves All Might." Togata finishes putting on his costume, the top and cape
slinging on in one go. A large golden 1000000 takes up his chest, instantly drawing Izuku's, and
probably anyone else's, attention to it. The younger boy wonders for a second if it's meant to
distract people or focus attention on Togata. "My hero name is Lemillion," he says, noticing
Izuku's line of sight. "What's yours?"
"Deku," Izuku says, adding the final bits of his costume to his person. The aerodynamic armor is
primarily on his shoulders and upper back, designed to lessen drag then provide lift. Two small
shoulder pads clip on, colored green. On his back go two curved, lightweight plates, also green.
"Why Lemillion?" Izuku asks, pulling on his gloves. They have the cups and a pop-up sight for his
air blasts.
"I want to save a million lives!" Togata explains enthusiastically. "You can't save 'em all, but that's
not an excuse to do nothing. I thought that if I set a goal for myself, I'd work harder!"
"That's really inspiring!" Izuku closes up his case and takes care in folding his gym clothes. He
starts to walk for the exit, the older boy following.
"Why did you pick Deku?" Togata asks politely.
"I… used to get picked on a lot, and all the kids would call me Deku. And, well, I didn't want it to
hurt me anymore. So I made it my hero name." For a while, Togata is silent. His face freezes for
half a second, and his eyes seem contemplative.
"That's amazing!" he settles on, clapping Izuku on the back. "It's really brave of you to do that. I'm
not sure I would've done the same."
Izuku forces laugh, not sure if he should prop Togata up after that last sentence. What he didn't
wasn't anything special; Gran did it decades ago, and anyone could've done the same. "Thanks," he
settles on, walking in the door of the training room. "So, do we just get started or..?"
"I think we should defer to Aizawa." Togata looks around and spots the teacher leaning against the
wall with his eyes closed. "Mr. Aizawa!" he calls, cupping his hands. "Can we start?"
"Try not to kill each other," Eraserhead calls back.
"I'll take that as a yes!" Togata turns around and raises his fists. He has to take a few awkward
steps back to increase the distance between the two of them, but it doesn't bother him. "Whenever
you're ready."
Izuku nods, placing one foot in front of the other and dropping his stance. He weighs his options.
Togata doesn't have anything on him that indicates his fighting style. He doesn't even have a utility
belt, which are quite common in the modern-day. Izuku's first instinct is to hit him with an air
blast, but that could backfire easily if Togata is a ranged fighter.
Thinking it better to play to his strengths, Izuku kicks forward, helped along by a burst of Float and
a seven percent kick to the ground. He backs off the power as he draws closer, cocking a fist back
for a two percent cross to the chest. Strangely, Togata doesn't bother moving. He simply holds his
stance. Unbothered, Izuku throws his punch. And phases right through Togata's body.
Izuku goes flying through the air, almost hitting the far wall before he manages to stop and regain
his regular stance. Fifty feet away, Togata laughs. "The look on your face is hilarious! Want
another go?"
Izuku preps another burst, ready to try for a tackle or a punch, but Togata promptly sinks waist-
deep in the floor. "Nah, I wanna try something out before you do. Here I come!" He sinks the rest
of the way into the floor, and Izuku is left to metaphorically scratch his head because what.
A split second later, he gets a fist to the bottom of his jaw. "Phantom Uppercut!" Togata cries as
Izuku is sent sprawling back and seeing stars.
Shaking off his daze, Izuku rushes forward, aiming to feint high before going low. He never gets a
chance, since Togata falls through the floor again. But this time, Izuku is ready. He kicks off into
the air with Float and carefully watches the spot on the ground where he just was.
Not a moment later, Togata slips out of the ground, fist cocked back and ready to strike. Izuku only
lets him have a half second to realize what happened before he drops and slams the older boy into
the ground. Togata lets out a wheeze and instantly slips under again, but only for a few seconds. He
resurfaces just a few feet away from Izuku and smiles.
"That was pretty good! I'll have to work on dealing with stuff like that!"
"Thanks!" Izuku smiles back.
They rush each other again, this time Togata doing it the normal way. When the distance is closed,
Izuku applies his limited martial arts knowledge into a hand-to-hand fight. He figures that if he
tries to fly, Togata will simply sink again and pop up somewhere else. The older boy wouldn't
make the same mistake twice.
Togata, for his part, is clearly comfortable with slugging it out. He ducks and weaves around
Izuku's strikes, only having to use his phasing ability every now and then. He throws his own
punches back, too, but with One for All's enhanced speed, Izuku can dodge most of them.
Wanting to land an actual hit, Izuku starts to vary the power output of One for All. It takes intense
concentration, and he very nearly gets a fist to the ribs, but he does manage to catch Togata off
guard with an eleven percent leg sweep. The older boy grunts and starts to fall, and slips through
the floor once more. He pops back up a second later, ready for another skirmish.
They move back and forth for a while, neither feeling the need for a big move. No hits are truly
landed, not like before, though one of Togata's fists brushes by Izuku's cheek, and the smaller boy
trades with a one percent knee to the thigh. Of course, they can't box forever, and when Togata
takes a step back that's just a little too big, Izuku cocks his arm back and unleashes an air blast.
Without the specially designed cuff, the pressure of the air isn't enough to do much, but it still
slows down Togata enough for Izuku to kick off into the air so he can more effectively use Burst
Style. Doing his best Gran Torino impression, Izuku phases in and out of Togata's body. The older
boy doesn't seem to mind and simply walks over to the other side of the room, throwing out the
occasional joke.
It's frustrating, Izuku finds. Not being able to land a solid hit or even weaken his opponent by
forcing them to block. He starts to push on the gas a bit, the lightning on his skin glowing a touch
brighter and his fingers start to itch. Something starts to build up, deep within his chest, and it's
right about to break free.
Then Togata sinks into the floor again and it disperses. He made the same mistake twice. Izuku's
smile, already feral, widens. He stands in the air, waiting. Nearly fifteen seconds later, Togata pops
back up, and Izuku dashes.
He promptly hits the floor, face-first. He rolls over, ready to kick back up, but he's too slow. The
back of Togata's boots dig into his windpipe, pinning him to the ground. Izuku freezes for a
moment, then taps the other boy's leg three times. He's promptly released.
They both get up, Izuku rubbing his neck and Togata breathing deeply. "That was amazing!" the
older boy says. "I haven't had to think like that in a fight since my internship."
"Thanks, you were great too," Izuku compliments.
"That was nothing." Togata waves a hand. "Anyways, why did you tap out? You coulda broke
free."
"Um, well, you had me in a chokehold, which was really cool, by the way," Izuku says. He
continues after Togata thanks him again, "And if a villain had me in a similar position, they
could've… well, you get the picture." Izuku laughs nervously, rubbing the back of his neck.
"If you would've broken out, I would've kept fighting, though," Togata points out. "We're heroes,
yeah? No need to think so morbidly in a friendly spar."
"Yeah, but I like to keep stuff as realistic as possible."
"Suit yourself."
They stand there for a moment, one question burning through Izuku's mind. He wants to ask it, but
it feels impolite to do so.
"My Quirk's Permeation," Togata suddenly says. Izuku's attention snaps to him, away from his
thoughts. "You looked curious, so I just assumed it was about my Quirk. Sorry, was I wrong?"
"No, not at all!" Izuku assures. "You have a really cool ability. I'm guessing you can, well,
permeate through stuff?"
"Eh, it's not all that great." Togata's smile dips a little, but it brightens right back up again. "But
yeah, I can go through anything, solids, liquids, gases. Heck, even light and sound go right through
me!"
"Light, air, and sound go through you?" Izuku asks, interested in the drawbacks and possible
weaknesses of Permeation.
"Yup. But just me specifically. If I'm wearing clothes then they fall right off if I activate my Quirk.
It's a little embarrassing, but I wind up naked a lot. Also, whenever I'm inside of another thing and I
turn off my Quirk, the mass of my body is taking up the space of the thing I'm in. That doesn't
make sense scientifically, so I just kinda pop out," Togata explains. "That's how I get those really
big jumps!"
"That's an awesome way to use your Quirk!" Izuku exclaims. "But what about your costume?"
"Made of my hair so it's triggered when I activate my Quirk," he explains. "Back during my first
year internship, Sir said I should work on getting underwear made of the same stuff too." He
reaches up and tugs on a strand of hair. "I've only got one right now so I'll be growing this out for a
while, at least until I can get three."
"Huh. I wonder if that could work for other people with similar problems too." Izuku rubs the
bottom of his chin, which is still tender from Togata's uppercut.
"Probably," the other boy agrees, "but you can think about that later. Let's go another round!"
The second round is different. Izuku has a plan and knows how his opponent's power works. All he
needs to do is to keep an even head and end it quickly.
They start out eight feet apart. This time, it's Togata who rushes first, sinking to his hips and then
using the mass he displaces to go shooting out of the ground. Izuku allows him to close the
distance, firing up One for All at six percent. He waits for Togata to take a swing and acts.
Ducking to the side and weaving out of the way of a follow-up hook, Izuku swings one of his arms
as hard as he can at Togata's head. The boy, predictably, lets it phase through. Instead of allowing
his arm to go all the way past Togata's head, however, Izuku stops his arm, right in the middle of
where the boy's brain must be. Now that Togata is blind and deaf, Izuku spins and kicks him in the
ribs at three percent.
Forced to take the hit, Togata stumbles back and solidifies his head. Izuku doesn't want to let him
get any breathing room, so he dives right for his feet. Again, Izuku phases through, and again, he
stops so he's in the middle of Togata's body. Kicking up, Izuku phases through the entirety of his
torso and legs, and intentionally stops so he's inside of Togata's lungs and head.
The blond boy switches off his Quirk, though, already catching on to Izuku's plan. The two are
forced apart, both flying back and Togata gasping for breath. Izuku doesn't let him do so for long.
Using Float, he rams his shoulder into Togata's chest. They land on the ground in a heap, Izuku
straddling the older boy's stomach with his hands around his throat.
Togata taps Izuku's wrist three times. The smaller boy stands up, offering a hand to help his
upperclassman. Togata accepts it, heaving himself up. He's still breathing raggedly, and there's a
fair amount of red in his face.
"That," he pants out. Izuku flinches, thinking he did something wrong. But then Togata slaps a
hand on his shoulder and squeezes. "That was awesome!" He coughs. "Ick, I've never had that
happen to me. Just… hold on a sec, 'kay?"
Izuku gives a quick nod and waits. Togata takes a couple more seconds to get a better grip on his
breathing, and even if he doesn't need help balancing his hand never leaves Izuku's shoulder.
"Whoo!" he says, finally feeling better. "That was really smart of you, man. Thanks for pointing
out that weakness of mine."
"I-it was nothing," Izuku stutters. "I'm sure Nighteye went over something similar at your
internship."
"He did," Togata agrees, "but he only told me it was a problem. I've never actually experienced it
before!"
"Oh, well, I'm glad I could help."
"Me too." Togata gives a thumbs up. "Say, why don't we go another couple of rounds? I think I
might have an idea of how to deal with those new attacks you used."
"Sure! I'd really like that."
They fight for hours. Togata, having been training nearly twice as long as Izuku, wins more bouts,
but it's a close thing. By rough estimate, Izuku wins four out of every ten fights and Togata the
other six. Neither really mind, though, and they lose track of time until Aizawa cancels their Quirks
mid-fight and forces them to eat lunch.
Not bothering to change into their full uniforms, the two boys head for the cafeteria in their gym
clothes. They get a couple odd looks, and Izuku suddenly realizes that they're both heavily bruised.
He tells Togata about it but only gets a laugh and an agreement to see Recovery Girl after school.
They wait in the lunch line together. Izuku grabs his usual large plate of protein and Togata grabs a
random assortment of food, most of it vaguely healthy, but at the same time there's no shortage of
sweets. "Come eat with me," he says, shaking his head in the direction of a table across the
cafeteria.
"N-no thanks, you don't have to," Izuku says, looking over at his usual spot. "I wouldn't want to
interrupt your time with your friends."
"Come on," Togata insists, lightly bumping him on the shoulder. "No one will mind. Well,
someone might be a touch uncomfortable, but he'll warm right up to you! You won't be interrupting
anything."
"If you're sure…"
"I definitely am!"
Togata leads Izuku through the lunchroom, stopping every now and then to greet a couple random
students who must be in the upper years. Most of the people he greets at least wave back, but many
also have a quick exchange. Izuku somehow doesn't feel awkward during this, though. It's probably
because no one's paying attention to him, he thinks, which is nice.
After a couple minutes of wandering, Togata finally makes a beeline right for a table in the corner
closest to the entrance of the cafeteria. It's small, and there are only two people there. One is a
nervous-looking boy with pointy ears and dark, messy hair. The other is a bubbly-looking girl with
blue hair all the way down to her lower back and a bright smile. The girl is taking the boy's ear off
about something, to which the boy nods absently and mutters the occasional one-word answer
back.
"Hey, guys!" Togata greets, setting his tray down across from the pair. He takes a seat and gestures
for Izuku to take the one to his left. "This is Midoriya, from Class 1-A."
"H-hi," Izuku greets, cautiously sitting down. His eyes flick back and forth between the two new
people, unsure of who to focus on.
"Hey, hey, man!" The blue-haired girl leans across the table, so close that she's almost nose-to-nose
with Izuku. A strand of her hair lands in whatever she's drinking, but she either doesn't care or
doesn't notice. "I really like your hair. Is it dyed? Or does it just grow like that?" She gasps. "Or is
it your Quirk? Wait, no, you're in a hero class, so green hair probably isn't it, unless you're, like,
super badass, which if you were then you wouldn't be at UA." She doesn't pause for breath once,
but does stop after her last thought.
"This is Hado," Togata introduces her with a smile. "She's pretty hyperactive, so don't feel nervous
about all of her questions."
"Ah, sorry," Hado says, leaning back in her seat and fiddling with her hair. "Did I make you
uncomfortable? I just haven't heard anything about the new first years which is a real bummer,
because having underclassmen is fun! I think…"
"I-it's fine, no worries," Izuku says, a little flushed but happy to meet another nice person. "It's
really nice to meet you, Hado. Um… my Quirk is a pool of energy. I use it to fly and enhance my
strength," he tags on at the end, wanting to answer at least a few of her questions.
"Hey, my Quirk is energy, too!" Hado holds out a palm, face up. A golden spiral forms above it,
spinning for a couple of centimeters before it starts to fade. "The spirals move kinda slow, but if
I've got enough stamina to put into them, then they can really pack a punch!"
"Oh, so it relies on your physical stamina?" Izuku asks. Hado nods eagerly. "That's really
interesting. I bet you've got lots of energy so you can make the most of your Quirk!"
"Yup," Hado says, popping the P at the end. "I have to run a 10K everyday outside of class. It's a
bit boring, but since someone had to go and get strong over break"—she not-so-subtly looks at
Togata—"we've gotta pick up the slack. Right, Amajiki?"
Izuku looks over the boy across from Togata. "Mirio has always been amazing," he says, not
looking up from his steaming bowl of chicken and rice. "It's been that way since we were kids."
"Thanks, Tamaki, but you shouldn't sell yourself short." Togata reaches over and pats his friend on
the shoulder. "He's been working really hard this first term," he says to Izuku. "He's probably at the
top of his class now!"
"You're too nice," Tamaki mumbles. "And Hado is better than me, anyways."
"Oh, so you three are in the same class?" Izuku asks.
"Just me and Amajiki," Hado answers. "We're in 2-A and Togata is in 2-B."
"Huh. There's only a 1-A in my grade. Is there a difference between the hero classes?"
"Nope," Togata says immediately. "Eh, maybe technically, but the students of each class start out
at the same level, so the only differences are because of how hard the students work."
"But that's not important," Hado says, cutting off the question Izuku was about to ask. "What is
important is if the rumors are true." She looks at Izuku exactly. For his part, the green-haired boy
can only look at the three of them in confusion.
"What rumors?" he asks.
"Some people are saying that there's only one first year hero student," Hado explains. "Amajiki and
have a bet going, he thinks it's all made up, but I think it's true."
"Why would UA only let in one new hero go train?" Amajiki says quietly. "It just doesn't make
sense."
"Well, there were twenty of us," Izuku explains, gaining the attention of the three sitting with him.
"But a lot of them were transferred to Gen Ed on day one, and after that, a lot of them were
expelled for… stuff."
"So is it really just you?" Togata asks, losing a little bit of his cheer.
Izuku nods. "Yeah. Just me." He looks around and sees the rather uncomfortable expressions. "It's
not all bad!" he insists. "I get a lot of training in, and the teachers here are amazing!"
"Yeah..." Hado says, trailing off. They all sit there in silence for a couple of seconds. "You should
eat with us tomorrow, too," she suddenly says.
"Yeah!" Togata agrees. "We've got room at our table. Just remember to eat quickly or Tamaki will
take your lunch so he can use his Quirk more."
"I don't do that," Amajiki protests weakly. "I only eat your food when you offer, even if it's really
good-looking."
"Um, yeah, sure," Izuku agrees. He starts to dig into his lunch before asking, "Amajiki, what's your
Quirk?"
The dark-haired boy looks up from his food and holds out a single hand. Without warning, it turns
into the foot of a chicken. "I can manifest what I eat," he says.
"Woah, that's really cool!" Izuku hastily unzips his bag and retrieves his notebook and a couple
pens. "Is there a limit on how many different things you make? Do you need to have a certain
amount of the food to manifest it? Are you limited to animals, or can you do plants? What about
metal or rock? That chicken foot was the size of your hand, not an actual chicken foot, so you can
change the sizes of what you grow, right?"
Amajiki freezes up, mouth slightly open and looking quite overwhelmed. Izuku finally stops his
rapid-fire questioning and goes beet-red. "S-sorry," he mumbles.
"Jeez, and my parents call me hyperactive," Hado laughs.
"Sorry," Izuku apologizes again, starting to tuck things away. "That was really impolite, I shouldn't
—"
Togata stops him with a hand on his wrist. "It's fine," he smiles. "Tamaki was the same way when
he first met Hado. She followed him around all day talking, and he didn't know what to do. That's
actually how we all met for the first time." He laughs. "But you didn't do anything wrong. Tamaki
can answer all of your questions."
"Really?" Izuku looks to Amajiki.
"S-sure," the boy says, rubbing his hands under the table. "Just… slow down, please."
By the time lunch is over, Izuku has two pages for Manifest, along with three for Permeation and
one and a half for Wave Motion. They're all very interesting Quirks that would be very powerful in
almost any situation if applied correctly. Manifest is definitely a melee type but could easily
become a long-ranged ability in a pinch. Wave Motion is definitely a mid to long-ranged Quirk,
but Hado could easily use it to enhance any hit she decides to dish out, be it her fists or feet. Then
there's Permeation.
Togata's Quirk is probably the most dangerous, both to him and other people. While the more…
brutal ideas that one could come up with for a phasing ability aren't possible due to how solids
push Togata out of them, blocking a hit from him is impossible. Sure, if you could harden your
skin, you'll be fine, but even then the momentum that you can generate could theoretically be
enough to overcome it. Landing a hit would also be extremely difficult once Togata has more
experience.
But that only means Izuku would have to work harder to keep up with him. So, after lunch, he
throws himself into combat training, and, once he learns that Togata is supposed to spar with him
three days a week, he starts to work even harder.
Izuku trains and thinks about Togata's Quirk so hard, in fact, that he forgets all about the weird
feeling he got while fighting Togata. It's a small matter, though. He'll remember eventually.
Chapter End Notes
In case it wasn't obvious, Mirio has spent time with Nighteye, just not nearly as much
as cannon. He's had two weeks for each year internship, and a bit during winter break
before starting his second year. Strength wise, he's a tad better then Izuku, and Izuku is
probably as skilled as he was during the Yakuza raid. Or somewhere in there.
Anyways, the rest of the future big three are also stronger because Mirio is a massive
inspiration. Strength wise, Tamaki is the strongest, on par with some third years
already, and Nejire is probably the closest to Izuku's level.
Thanks for reading! Cheers.

Team Battles
Chapter Notes
As of April 1, 2021 this chapter has been edited and reformated by my beta, flauel.
The next day after school, Izuku heads right for Gym Midoriya. Yesterday he was forced to skimp
out on after-school training, mostly because he and Togata beat each other black and blue and
Gran didn't feel like fighting him when he wasn't in top form, but also because Izuku, right as he
left the building, remembered what he felt during that first fight.
Power, an uncomfortable amount of it straining against his skin, begging to be let free despite the
fact that Izuku had no way to let it free. He described how he felt in those moments to Gran—the
frustration, the annoyance, the borderline anger, and the strong desire to capture.
Gran didn't feel like dealing with a new Quirk that day (because it's almost definitely a new Quirk);
apparently, he's been working with Tsukauchi on some new kidnapping case. Izuku didn't blame
him. As powerful and skilled as Gran is, he's still pushing ninety. The average human body isn't
meant to last that long.
And so, a day after meeting Togata, Izuku walks into his gym, ready for actual training. But instead
of Gran waiting to pounce on him, Izuku walks into the building to see All Might, casually sipping
on a glass of water with an open notebook in front of him as he sits behind the counter.
"Young Midoriya, hello," he says, standing up and setting down his glass. "How was school
today?"
Smiling, Izuku walks over to his mentor, who ruffles his hair and brushes a skinny but still
muscular hand across his back. "Good," he says. "I ate lunch with Togata again, and I'm getting
better at sneaking around. Aizawa was almost impressed with my progress today."
"And your talk with Nedzu?" All Might asks, a touch cautious.
"That was nice, too." Izuku unslings his backpack and sets it on the floor. "I'm getting better at
chess, and we've been talking about fighting efficiently the past few days. I've even drawn up some
new attacks."
"Good, good." All Might reaches for the notebook and picks it up. "Gran Torino said you had an…
interesting sensation during your fight with your new friend the other day. Tell me about it."
Izuku wrings his hands, recalling what happened in vivid detail. "I was frustrated because I
couldn't touch him. I really wanted an opening, or the chance to close the gap, you know? But I had
nothing that would work and the pressure started to build. I got… angry."
"Then what happened?" All Might coaxes.
"My hands started to itch, and my skin got hot, I think—hotter than it usually is when I use One for
All, anyways." Izuku chews the inside of his cheek. "Gran says it was a new Quirk trying to break
through, is that true?"
"I think it sounds that way," All Might says, turning his back. Izuku hears the sound of pages
turning. "Come look at this."
Izuku moves to his master's side, leaning in to get a good look at the notebook.
#5: Lariat, AKA Banjo Digoro. Quirk: Blackwhip.
"Fifth?" Izuku says, scanning the page. "You think I'm going get his Quirk?" He can't help the
eagerness that slips into his voice.
All Might nods proudly. "He's the most likely candidate. None of the other users have a Quirk good
for capturing, which Blackwhip is perfect for."
"He was pretty accomplished back in the day," Izuku notes, seeing the stats of his hero career,
printed neatly below a copy of an old photograph. "Thirty years of service, credited with over five
thousand takedowns and two hundred rescues. Died on the job but never cracked the top five
hundred."
All Might hums. "Yes, but I think that was intentional." Seeing Izuku's confused expression, he
continues, "I mean his ranking, not his death. The past holders weren't like you and me. The two of
us are… well, for lack of a better term, we're chosen ones. We were both picked for our ideals and
our drive to hold society up as a pillar. The other seven… well, I know Nana was given One for All
by happenstance. She rescued a cat from a tree in front of the sixth not three days before he died.
He was already being hunted by All for One, so he gave it to her so she could carry the legacy
forward.
"Compare that to me. I was picked because Nana overheard me spouting off my ideals to a tree."
All Might chuckles. "Or even you, who rushed into danger to save that young hero after I… after
that day in the alley."
Izuku ponders for a moment, focusing on the profile of Five. He was a big man and would have
towered over Mr. Aizawa. His costume was styled like biker gear, with a leather jacket and tough-
looking jeans. A bullet belt was slung across his chest, and a pair of goggles rested on his bald
head.
"But All for One is dead now," Izuku says after a while. "So we don't have to worry about me
being in the spotlight. But…"
"But what?" All Might asks, gently closing the book.
"Blackwhip is completely different from what we've been calling One for All," Izuku says, worry
crossing his face as he looks over the specs of Blackwhip. "My Quirk is listed as Superpower, an
energy source slash strength enhancer that I can use to fly. Black tendrils just… they don't fit with
that, and someone could connect me to Lariat, or if they think I have multiple Quirks then… they
could think I'm like All for One." Izuku shudders at the thought. All Might had told him a little
about his nemesis, and the details were anything but good.
All Might considers that for a moment. "Midoriya, what are your parents' Quirks?"
"Attraction of Small Objects and Fire Breath," Izuku lists instantly. There's no way the two powers
wouldn't be burned into his mind—he spent long hours trying to manifest one, after all.
"Could you tell me about Attraction of Small Objects?" All Might asks. "Not a full in-depth
analysis, though. A simple description will do fine."
"It's a telekinetic Quirk," Izuku explains. "It only pulls stuff to her and is entirely localized in her
hands. She used to use it to carry me when I was little, but by the time I turned three I was too
heavy."
All Might smiles. "Thank you. I think I have a solution. You see, Blackwhip, at its core, is a
puller." He opens the notebook again, this time to a page containing a low-res printout glued onto
it. The image shows Five with an arm outstretched and black tentacles extending from his hand.
The strands are wrapped around a large steel beam, pulling to him. "We can simply pass it off as a
mutation of your mother's Quirk. Powers change from generation to generation, so no one would
suspect."
"That's… a pretty smart idea." Izuku leans away. "Could something similar work for the other
Quirks as well if I get them?"
"Not at all." All Might closes the notebook and tucks it into his back pocket. "The others are too
unique and different from the Quirks of your parents and a normal energy Quirk we listed One for
All as on your new registration, and I couldn't find information on the powers of the second and
third users. But that's no matter, three abilities is practically overkill for a hero." He smiles and pats
Izuku on the shoulder. "Now, you said you were frustrated when the feeling came?"
Izuku nods. "Yeah. Angry, too. At myself, though, for not being able to do anything."
"Interesting." All Might scratches his chin. "Would you like to try to awaken it again?"
"Now?" Izuku asks, shocked. All Might nods. "But what if it's like Float was, and I can't control it?
I could hurt… you… oh."
Smirking, All Might buffs up into his hero form. "Young Midoriya, have you spent so much time
around that pathetic form of me that you assume I'm that squishy all the time?" His voice booms,
full of energy and power, the opposite of his other form which always sounds frail.
"No, sir!" Izuku denies, waving his hands. "I was just worried about the building!"
All Might laughs. "Sure, sure. Now hurry up and get changed out of your school clothes. Let's try
to summon Five's Quirk!"
They try for hours, but to no avail. Izuku zips and dashes around All Might as fast as he can,
looking for a shot, repeating what he did to Togata. All Might fights back, though, making Izuku
dodge. It's solid practice, something the two holders rarely get to do together, but it's not something
that'll awaken Blackwhip. Or at least, that's what they agree on.
With a final goodbye, All Might walks Izuku to the nearest train station and tells him not to force it.
He goes home to his mother, eats, and relaxes for the night.
For the rest of the week, Izuku goes through the motions, sparring with Togata on some days, but
on most he sticks to the usual schedule. It's fun, engaging, and, coupled with eating lunch with his
new friends (because they are friends, Hado and Togata made that very clear on day two), time
flies. Izuku doesn't think this could get any better, but he's soon proven very wrong.
Aizawa's lessons are always in the afternoon. The man prefers to have a somewhat full stomach
and a few cups of coffee down before he teaches, which makes sense because he always looks
better in the afternoon than in the morning.
Aizawa's lessons are always in the afternoon, and they always take place in the same building. So
when Izuku is told to go to a different building, or rather, a different section of the main U.A
campus, he knows something's up.
Entering Training Field Kappa, Izuku idly plays with his rebreather. The room is high, with walls
thirty feet tall. The room is partially wide, however. At least, not compared to the usual training
fields at U.A at fifty feet square.
But the main thing that draws Izuku's attention isn't the size of the room. It's the concrete pillar in
the center of it. From floor to ceiling, the round piece of stone dominates the room, perhaps ten
feet in diameter.
"It's meant for you flying types," Izuku hears from behind. He turns to see Aizawa, who's standing
with his arms crossed. "Heroes operate in cities, so a lot of those who fly practice in rooms like
this. You did that with Hawks, correct?"
"Yes, sir," Izuku answers, approaching his teacher. "But you can't fly. Why are we here?"
Aizawa looks behind him for a moment. He sighs. "They're supposed to be ready by now."
"Sir?" Izuku cocks his head to the side, curious.
"You'll have some guests with you today," Aizawa explains. "They'll help you focus on teamwork,
more specifically in two-on-two fights."
"But who—"
"Us, of course!" The bubbly voice of Hado echoes through the room, and the girl herself flies
overtop of Aizawa, propelled by a pair of golden spirals emitting from her feet. She lands a few
feet to Izuku's left.
"Hado, you said you wouldn't make a dramatic entrance!" Togata steps out from behind Aizawa,
his voice teasing but not unpleasant.
"I lied!" Hado replies shamelessly. "Where's Amajiki?"
"Right here," the boy replies, hurriedly walking to Togata's side. "You guys change too fast."
"Sorry, Tamaki, we were just excited!" Togata says, patting his friend on his shoulder. "It's not
everyday we get to fight someone new, you know?"
"Yeah, I do," Amajiki says, pulling down the hood of his white cloak. All three of them are in their
hero costumes like Izuku. Togata's is the same as always, Hado's is a bodysuit of various blue
shades with a headband that has spiral horns, and Amajiki has a big, loose cloak along with a
sturdy-looking pair of cargo pants and a thick shirt covered in pouches.
"You four should get started before you run low on time," Aizawa suggests. "You'll fight in every
possible team combination, and I'll be the referee. Follow the normal rules; submissive holds mean
you're out, and nothing too brutal."
"Yes, sir!" the four of them chorus. Togata immediately forms a team with Amajiki, leaving Hado
and Izuku to pair up. After a brief discussion, they all agree to have a couple minutes to plan before
the fight actually starts. Togata pulls Amajiki into a corner, and Hado does the same to Izuku.
"So," the older girl says, still hovering an inch above the ground. "Got any ideas?"
"Um, well, I need to know how you and Amajiki fight, first," Izuku explains. "I'm a close-range
type, but I've got enough strength to generate an air blast." He flicks his arm out, bringing the
slotted cups down in their attack position. "That's what these are for."
"Ooh, that's super cool!" Hado falls to the ground with a soft tap. She takes Izuku's hand in hers
and studies his glove and the cups. "I'm a mid to long-range girl, myself. I don't really do melee,
you know? Amajiki, though." She looks up, still holding his hand. "He's all melee, pretty much. I
know he started out aiming to be a backline support, but his Quirk is just so perfect for direct
combat. Or at least that's what all the teachers say."
"Y-yeah, I get it," Izuku stammers, pulling his hand back. Seeing that he's a little red, Hado lets it
go without a fuss. "So we're up against two close-quarters specialists."
"Mm, not really," Hado says, poking a finger into her cheek. "When those two team up—and
believe me, they do it whenever we have joint training between our two classes—Togata is always
the front line and Amajiki waits behind him for an opening. It's really effective because Togata is
crazy good at making people slip up."
"So that's probably what they'll try to do," Izuku states. Hado nods. "I think we should force them
out of their comfort zone," he suggests, recalling an important lesson from Nedzu on fighting
people who chose to specialize or stick to one strategy. "Do you think you could separate them
with a big enough shot?"
Hado nods eagerly. "Amajiki is really good at taking hits, but if you distract them enough, I can
definitely force him away from Togata. What do we do after that?"
Izuku smiles, wolfish. "We divide and conquer."
[x]
Aizawa watches carefully from his spot at the entrance of Field Kappa. This whole situation isn't
normal in the slightest. The gap between first and second years was always too great for an even
match like this. Sure, there were the odd times where there'd be someone lagging behind or
pushing ahead, but it was never enough to make a real difference.
But this year is different. Midoriya has talent. It's like his mind is made for thinking about the
applications of Quirks along with the instincts of a hero. Or that's what Aizawa would think if he
didn't know how hard the boy had trained in the past.
By keeping notebooks and being a massive hero fan for almost his entire life, Midoriya has worked
for his mind and intellectual prowess. Gran Torino, a veteran of great skill, claimed that he'd been
doing active combat training months before the entrance exam. And that isn't even talking about
his weight lifting schedule, which he's been on for almost a year and a half now.
All of that, combined with his new schedule, puts him in the ballpark of the entire second year in
terms of skill. If Aizawa had to order Midoriya to spar with a third year, he'd feel confident in the
boy's ability to hold his own, if only briefly. But he wasn't asking that of him. Instead, Midoriya is
to fight with his new friend group, something very important for budding heroes.
This first round, Togata and Amajiki vs. Hado and Midoriya, is one Aizawa predicts as a loss for
his student. Amajiki could probably solo his opposing team on one of his rare days where he gets
over his nerves, and Togata isn't a slouch either. Hado is good, Aizawa would admit that freely, but
she and Midoriya are practically equals.
Watching the teams end their planning periods, Aizawa stands taller. "You may start whenever!"
he calls out. "No countdown, go!"
Immediately, Togata takes his position in front of Amajiki, the smaller boy already manifesting his
usual light armor, which consists of clamshells and cow muscles. His blond teammate takes a battle
stance, ready to sink into the floor at any moment.
Hado and Midoriya, standing shoulder to shoulder across the room, exchange glances. They nod in
unison and immediately kick off in opposite directions, flanking their opponents.
In response, Amajiki and Togata stagger, each keeping an eye on an opponent. Hado and Midoriya
circle around, searching for an opening. They're both attack-ready, Midoriya with his air blast
enhancers down and Hado with spirals spinning lazily in her hands.
Without warning, Midoriya dives down. Amajiki sees this and prepares one of his legs for attack,
ready to knock the younger boy out of the air. In response, Midoriya sharply turns in front of
Togata. Amajiki calls out a warning, and his teammate sinks into the floor. Immediately after,
Midoriya is kicked in the chest with a cow hoof.
The green-clad boy goes flying back, all the way into the wall. Amajiki starts to look around,
probably for Togata, but Hado doesn't let it happen for long. Twin waves of light erupt from
behind Amajiki, sending him crashing to the floor. In the distance, Midoriya peels himself off the
wall and dashes forwards.
Togata chooses that moment to resurface, jumping up and quickly looking around. Seeing
Midoriya and Hado about to double team Amajiki, he moves to intercept the first year.
Even from his spot twenty feet away, Aizawa can see Midoriya's grimace. He had clearly planned
on knocking out Amajiki as fast as possible before dealing with Togata together with Hado. But
now, instead of the fight progressing to a two-on-one, it's a pair of one-on-ones. Togata and
Amajiki probably don't like it either, but they clearly have the advantage.
Midoriya's fight with Togata goes the usual way: lots of double bluffs, underhanded tricks, and
exploitations of the weaknesses of each other's Quirks. Hado's fight with Amajiki, however, is
something different.
Aizawa has seen all three of the second years fight before—he'd be a fool to let them fight
Midoriya if he hasn't—but Hado has clearly progressed since the festival, which is the source of
the video Aizawa saw. She's much less brazen with her Quirk than before, using it as little as
possible to dodge Amajiki's attacks. She also counters carefully, never letting a single drop of her
precious stamina go to waste. Aizawa is impressed, but it's not enough. Amajiki is a whole 'nother
beast.
He fights like a robot, almost, carefully calculating when to strike and when to dodge. He isn't as
careful as Hado, taking the occasional conservative risk, but he still doesn't waste a moment if he
can help it. Striking with a combination of cow, chicken, and even fish appendages, and blocking
with celery stalks and clamshells, he gradually wears Hado down until the girl presents a large
opening.
In a flash, she's bound in vines. She has enough energy to break through and tries to do so. She
only succeeds in blasting through a layer of vines before Amajiki uses his other hand to generate
more. In a real fight, this would devolve into a battle of attrition. Hado would keep breaking vines
and Amajiki would keep rewrapping her until one of them gave out. But this isn't a real fight.
"Hado is eliminated! Please disengage!" Aizawa yells, cupping his hands. Amajiki immediately
releases his vines. Hado gets up, giving the boy a one-armed hug before flying over to Aizawa to
watch the fight. Across the room, Midoriya and Togata don't pause, though Midoriya appears to
slip deeper into thought.
"C'mon, Midoriya!" Hado cheers. Aizawa fights back a wince at the sudden noise. "You got this!"
Midoriya doesn't react to Hado's cheers, but he does move away from Togata as soon as possible.
It's a good move, too, since Amajiki wastes no time backing his teammate up.
Taking to the air, Midoriya ducks and weaves around Amajiki's octopus tentacles. The second year
isn't quite as good with them as he is with cow and chicken bits, so Midoriya stays aloft easily
enough. Meanwhile, Togata stands on the ground, unable to do anything.
The fight turns into a stalemate. Amajiki and Togata can't reach Midoriya, and Midoriya can't beat
both of them on the ground. Aizawa lets them horse around for a little bit before calling them over
to him.
Now with four heavily breathing and wide-eyed kids, Aizawa thinks on what to say. "Midoriya," he
settles on, "what was your plan?"
"I wanted to break them up and deal with them individually," he explains. "I thought that if Hado
and I hit Amajiki from two angles with really hard hits, he'd go down. We never got a chance,
though."
"And why was that?" Aizawa asks.
"Mirio is too quick," Hado answers. "He locked down Midoriya and left Amajiki to deal with me,
which was a good match up for them."
"Good," Aizawa says. "Learn from that. Amajiki and Togata, you two should as well." The other
two students nod, always happy to learn. "Form new teams now. By the end of this block, you'll
have fought in every possible pair. If you're quick about it, you'll get to fight more than six bouts."
The four quickly break off into pairs again. This time Togata claims Hado as his partner and
Amajiki warily follows Midoriya. The two boys talk in their corner, or rather, Midoriya talks and
Amajiki nods along. The younger of the two must be saying something rather interesting because
he waves his hands a lot and is clearly rambling on about something or another.
In the opposite corner, Hado and Togata are also talking. It's a lot less one-sided and intense than
Midoriya and Amajiki's conversation, but Aizawa can see clear communication and agreement
between the two, which is always good.
Moments later, the fight begins. Amajiki lets Midoriya take the lead, the green-clad boy meeting
Hado and Togata head-on. But he doesn't stay that way for long. Right when Togata is about to
throw the first punch, he vaults over him, scoring a quick hit on Hado before landing on the
opposite side of them. Then, Amajiki strikes.
Two tentacles, extending from his hands, knock Hado out of the air and force Togata to dodge.
Midoriya capitalizes on their confusion and goes for Hado. The two begin to duel in the air,
Amajiki distracting Togata with his tentacles as Midoriya and Hado weave around each other
above.
But Midoriya and Amajiki clearly don't intend to stick to fighting solo. Seconds after splitting up,
the two boys begin to drive their opponents closer to each other, wearing them down and taking
away breathing room until Hado can't dive down without risking hitting Togata, and Togata can't
use his leaping ability without crashing into Hado. Then, they finish it.
Midoriya goes high, a good six feet above Hado, and completely switches off his flying. The girl
tries to spin out of the way of his fall, but he grabs onto her ankle before she has the chance.
Midoriya spins, dragging Hado around in a circle, before throwing her to the ground. She hits the
back of Togata, landing on him in a heap. The two are quickly wrapped up in vines, with Midoriya
hovering above them, ready for another attack if need be.
"That's the bout!" Aizawa calls. "Break it up and come over. You all did good."
Yeah, Midoriya is definitely on a similar level as these three. Aizawa will have to schedule more
spars with them.
[x]
After what feels like minutes but is really three hours, the four of them all crowd into the nearby
locker room. Hado is polite enough to duck into a shower stall to change, but the three boys are left
in the open.
"Man, that was really fun!" Togata comments, peeling off his costume bottoms. "Do you think if
we ask we'll be allowed to do it again?"
"Probably!" Hado calls back. There's the sound of a pair of boots hitting the ground, and then a
zipper unzipping. "I don't see why not. We're only missing Japanese Literature and First Aid for
this, which we can make up for easy."
"I'm missing out on English and Math for this," Togata says. He's shimmying into his pants now,
leaning on a wall for support.
"If you guys are missing class, then you don't have to spar with me again." Izuku carefully laces up
his non-combat shoes, uniform pants already on. He quickly puts a shirt on, too, tucking it into his
waistband. "It's not a big deal if you don't come again. I'm fine on my own."
"Maybe, but you shouldn't have to be," Togata says. "We liked being here with you. Right,
Tamaki?"
Amajiki had been the first to change, being out of his costume and into his uniform in thirty
seconds flat. He's in the corner now, flipping back and forth between looking at the floor and
Togata. "It was nice." He smiles softly. "I'd like to do it again."
"You're only saying that 'cause you only lost once," Hado teases, stepping out of her stall. Izuku
averts his eyes, but it's not necessary; she's already dressed. "You totally carried, and I ended up on
my butt more times than I could count!"
"I think we all did great," Togata disagrees. They're all fully changed, now, and he leads them out
of the locker room. "And we'll do even better next time."
"If there is a next time," Amajiki says pessimistically.
"There'll be a next time, don't worry." Togata lightly bumps Amajiki's shoulder with his. "Try to
keep the future bright. Right, Suneater?"
"Y-yeah." Amajiki's cheeks turn a touch pink.
To his left, Izuku feels a tap on his arm. He looks over to see Hado, who somehow manages to look
like she's floating with two feet on the ground. She holds a finger to her lips and her head jerks in
the direction of the other two. She wiggles her eyebrows. Izuku takes a second to get it, but when
he does he struggles to not make a noise of realization. Izuku must've pulled an interesting face
because Hado visibly bites back a giggle.
"Anyway," Togata continues, casually draping an arm around Izuku's shoulders, "Midoriya, the
three of us are going to hangout this weekend, probably at the beach. Would you like to come,
too?"
"Oh, um, I wouldn't want to intru—"
"You wouldn't be," Hado cuts him off. "We want you there. You don't have to come if you want,
though."
"... I'd have to ask my mom first," Izuku relents, though he's happy to spend time with friends. "I
know I'm free Saturday, but she'll need to know where I'm going."
"Not a problem." Togata slips a hand into his pants pocket and pulls out his phone. "Here, let me
get your number!"
In thirty seconds flat, Izuku has three new contacts in his phone and plans for the weekend. It's
nice, and he feels his heart warm. Friends are amazing, he thinks. Izuku wants to stick with them
for a long, long time.
Chapter End Notes
Next one will have more Big Three and Izuku bonding and probably the final exams.
Probably.
This one was fun to write, mostly because I love the dynamic of the Big Three. It's a
little awkward working with four people in a conversation (there's a reason we always
do things in threes, look it up) but I think I managed it alright.
Also, I know I said Mirio was on the table for a ship with Izuku but then I rewatched
season four and reread a bit of the managa, and I realized how much I love Mirio and
Tamaki's relationship. Romance won't be the main focus, but I'll probably end up
implying that ship a bit.
Thanks for reading, cheers!

Beach Day/Final Exam
Chapter Notes
Oh hey, this is the 100k words mark. If you've read all of this, thanks a million!
As if April 1, 2021 this chapter has been edited and reformated by my beta, flauel.
"Ooh, the beach?" Izuku's mother nearly jumps in surprise, sending bits of soap and bubbles all
over the sink and counter. There's even some in Izuku's hair. "That sounds wonderful. When are
you going?"
"Saturday at ten, if it's alright," Izuku says, washing a ceramic plate. They'd just finished dinner,
and his hair is still slightly damp from his after-school shower.
"Of course it's alright!" His mom scrubs a bowl in her hands but she's looking at Izuku's face. "It's
been a while since you've hung out with a friend. Who are you going with?"
"Just those upperclassmen I eat lunch with." Izuku smiles because having friends is amazing.
"We've been texting a bit, and we think we'll meet at Dagobah tomorrow morning."
"You can go," his mother says, making it clear as she hands him a dish to dry. Izuku accepts it and
towels it off. "The beach probably won't be crowded—it's only been clean for a couple months so I
doubt word has got around."
"Y-yeah."
"And it's not quite summer break, so you'll beat the rush!" His mother squirts another pump of dish
soap onto her sponge. "How long will you be there?"
"Um, I don't know," Izuku answers honestly. "Togata said he wants to spend the day, so maybe
until five?" He's not quite sure of it, but really, if they all wanted to hang out until dark he wouldn't
have a problem.
"Well, I'd like you home by ten. You've got weights Sunday morning." His mother's smile widens.
"Ooh, I'll give you extra cash so you can buy some lunch and other snacks for yourself!"
"T-that's not necessary, I've got enough saved up!" Enough for a meal, anyways.
"Izuku, I want to," his mother says, suddenly serious. "You're going to take some money, and
you're going to use it to have a great time. Understand?"
"Yes, ma'am!"
[x]
The meeting room is dark. It's nine AM, though, so the only reason why the windows are closed
and the lights are dimmed is for dramatic effect. Aizawa sighs, taking a seat at the table. Nedzu has
always enjoyed all things dramatic. The animal also loves irony, but that's not something Aizawa
wants to think about right now.
"Finals," the man says, setting down a clipboard full of notes. "What are we going for this year?"
"For the second and third years? The usual. Team battles against robots will do fine." The principal
hops up to the table, not spilling a drop of his black tea. He takes a quick sip. "But for your
student? I think we need to take a different approach."
"I agree." Aizawa flips through his clipboard and pulls a few leaves of paper from the stack.
"Should we play to his strengths or his weaknesses?"
"Why not both?" Nedzu smiles his usual smile, which isn't vicious at all. Given the situation,
though, Aizawa doesn't feel particularly comfortable with it.
"Sir," he says, "Midoriya is just a first year. All Might's prodigy or not, he's probably not ready for
what you have in mind. Have a look at my plan, it's modeled after a basic infiltration and extraction
mission. All robots, one hostage to save, bonus points for keeping enemy casualties to a
minimum." Aizawa slides a sheet of paper across the table. On it are the specs of the entire exam.
Nedzu doesn't even glance at it.
"Aizawa, it doesn't matter if the boy is ready." The rat turns around and hops down to his chair. He
hops back up to the table with a simple tablet in paw. He pushes the power button and hands it to
Aizawa. "His dream to be ready for anything is admirable, but realistically, he'll encounter things
he's not ready for. We must show him this and teach him to make the most out of a horrible
situation."
Aizawa looks over the tablet, which displays a PDF. He scrolls through a fraction of it before he
looks up and shakes his head. "Principal, there's no way for him to pass. This… it'll cripple his
morale, and—"
"He'll bounce back even more determined." Nedzu's eyes sparkle and his scar stretches a bit around
his eye. "Failure is the greatest motivator, no?"
"I'm fine with Midoriya failing, he needs to experience it at some point. But this?" Aizawa holds
up the tablet, which shows a very complex-looking blueprint. "You intend to throw him in there
with faulty information to plan with, no chance for withdrawal, droids, and three UA teachers
hunting him down. He won't fail. He'll be crushed."
"Mr. Aizawa, that is precisely my point." Nedzu's smile turns vicious, resembling a snarl. "We'll
break him down in the final and build him back up over the summer. Plus Ultra," he says. Aizawa
can do nothing but relent.
[x]
"Hey, Midoriya!" Izuku looks up from his phone to see Togata, who's tailed closely by Amajiki.
They're both wearing swim trunks for bottoms along with simple t-shirts.
"Hi, guys!" Izuku waves, slipping his phone into his pocket. He gets up from his spot on the bench
and meets them halfway, sand between his toes. "Where's Hado?"
Togata gives Izuku a slight bump on his arm for a friendly greeting. "She's over in one of the tents,
changing," he says, jerking a thumb over his shoulder at a row of striped tents set a good fifty feet
back from the high tide line. "She'll be over in a sec. Do you have a spot yet?"
"Nope," Izuku says, looking back at the bench. "There's not a lot of people here, so I didn't think to
pick a spot. Is that okay?"
"That's perfectly fine!" Togata insists. "Tamaki, do you want a spot by the wall? There's some
shade."
Amajiki shrugs, awkwardly tugging on the long sleeves of his shirt. "That's fine."
"Cool, let's go put our stuff down. I know Nejire wants to swim as fast as possible," Togata says,
starting to walk over to the shaded part of the beach under the wall. Izuku quickly grabs his bag
and shoes from the bench and follows.
The three boys lay their towels out, Amajiki's in the shade and Togata's and Izuku's out in the sun.
After that, they sit down, waiting for Hado. Izuku alternates between tugging at his swimsuit,
which is from before he bulked up and is a touch too tight, and looking out to sea.
"Are those All Might swim trunks?" Amajiki suddenly asks. Izuku looks over to see him staring
down at his lap.
"Um, yeah," Izuku says, a bit embarrassed. The trunks are blue with yellow and red lines, an
obvious nod to the Symbol of Peace. "I've had them for a little while, and I really look up to him."
"Hey, I do, too," Togata chimes in. He's to Amajiki's left, already trying to make a sandcastle. It's
futile, as the sand this far back isn't wet at all. "Though to be fair, I think almost everyone does."
"Yeah, that's true," Izuku agrees. "You know, he saved me once."
Amajiki looks up, clearly interested, but it's Togata that speaks. "When?"
"Last Feb—no, it was actually over a year from now," Izuku says, a little stunned. Has it been that
long already? "I was walking home from school, and there was this villain attack. My middle
wasn't in the best part of town, so that actually happened a lot."
"Huh, I guess with how hard he works it's not surprising to run into someone he saved," Togata
comments. "What happened?"
"I think it was a purse-snatching," Izuku recalls. "Or some kind of theft. I got there too late to see,
but the guy had an electric Quirk, but there weren't any heroes there that could've stopped him,
right? The only one was this new hero, Quake."
"I've heard of her," Amajiki says quietly. "She patrols near my house sometimes"
"Yeah, she's got an earth Quirk so they sent her in to capture the guy," Izuku continues. "But she
wasn't that good, and the villain was about to hurt her. I couldn't stand and watch, so I ran in and
threw my book bag. I would've been fried if All Might didn't show up right after."
Togata and Amajiki stare at Izuku for a moment, and the younger boy starts to fidget. "That's really
cool, Midoriya," Togata says after a while. "You saved someone like that."
"I-I'm sure All Might would have stepped in before anything could've happened," Izuku says,
flushed. "He wouldn't just stand there and do nothing if he could help!"
"But what if he wasn't there?"
"Then I would've been hurt. Or worse, probably worse." Izuku looks down at his feet. "He was the
hero that day, not me."
To his right, Amajiki opens his mouth to speak. But never gets the chance.
"Hey, boys!" Hado cheers, jogging up to their spot on the shade. She stops short and sets down a
handbag. "Let's go swim!"
They all take to the water after that. It's early enough in the day that the beach is the opposite of
crowded. There are maybe ten people every fifty feet and a handful of lifeguards for the whole
beach.
Togata and Hado immediately get into a splash fight, dragging Izuku and Amajiki in as well. There
are no sides, though Hado manages to convince everyone to gang up on Togata. The fight ends
with them tackling each other in the water, which is probably against the rules of the beach, but
none of the lifeguards seem to care.
The four of them swim calmly for a bit after that. Togata and Izuku take turns diving down as far
as they can go while Hado judges and Amajiki keeps watch for sharks because both Hado and
Togata insist it's a necessary job even though there's almost no chance of one appearing.
When the sun rises high in the sky and Hado's stomach starts to grumble, they take a break for
lunch. They all dry off and slip clothes over their swimsuits and take a break from the beach.
There's a cafe a few blocks away, and they walk there. They order, each getting a different thing to
avoid confusion, and take a small table outside of the building, Togata next to Amajiki with Hado
and Izuku across.
"You guys ready for finals?" Hado asks, carefully stacking their silverware into a tower. "I've been
studying a lot, but it just won't stick in my head."
"Yeah, I get what you mean." Togata laughs. "Hopefully the written stuff isn't that difficult, I've
really been focusing on the practical stuff."
"Does the practical part of the test change?" Izuku asks.
"Yep, last year every semester practical was completely different," Hado informs. "I know the A
class had rescue stuff for the first one and combat for the second. What about you, Mirio?"
"I had the opposite," Togata says, rubbing his knuckles. "They made us fight robots, and I swear
my hands still hurt from punching them."
"You should've used something else to fight with," Amajiki comments. "That or run away."
"Yeah, but how many people do you know that could say they've punched a robot?" Togata
counters good-naturedly.
"Everyone who's taken the entrance exam," Izuku says, absently fingering his straw wrapper. "I
mean, I know I have at least." There's a murmur of agreement before a bit of silence. Suddenly,
Togata stands up.
"There's an ice cream parlor across the street," he says, patting down his pockets for his wallet.
"You guys want some?"
Hado immediately reaches for her bag. "Ooh, that's a great idea!" She pulls out a wallet and from it
comes some cash. "Get me blueberry shake! Not too big, though, I wanna swim."
Togata takes the money and looks at the two other boys. "You guys want anything?"
"I'll have mint cone," Izuku says, already fumbling with his walk. "Thanks." He hands Togata what
he hopes is enough yen.
"No problem." The blond boy smiles. "Tamaki, what about you? Hot fudge sundae like usual?"
"I'll just go with you," Amajiki mumbles, pushing away from the table. "We don't even know what
they have."
"Fair enough. You two keep watch for our food, okay?" Togata says, walking out of the gated
dining area.
"You got it, Mirio!" Hado affirms. Then, right after the pair crosses the street, she turns to Izuku.
"So, what do you think of UA so far?"
It takes a moment for Izuku to realize that she's talking to him. "Oh! Uh, it's great. Really great.
There's just so much to learn there, you know?"
"Yeah, I do." Hado smiles and takes a sip of water. "Mirio said you went with Hawks for your
internship, is that true?"
"Yeah," Izuku confirms. "It was really interesting."
"Oh, really?" Hado cocks her head. "My first year internship was super boring. Like, I didn't even
see any villains and I helped with paperwork all day, which I get is normal for hero agencies, but,
like, it's no fun."
"I can imagine." Izuku chuckles. "Hawks didn't have me do any paperwork, but I think that's
because he doesn't do much himself. He just had me fight sidekicks and follow him around in the
air."
"Woah, you got to fly?" Hado asks. Izuku nods. "Nice. I love flying, but no one else in my class
can so I end up not being able to do it a lot. I did last week, though. My teacher said I had to fly
over a whole city to look for a certain building."
"... Did you?" Izuku asks, prompting her to continue.
"Nope!" Hado says, not losing an ounce of pep. "I have regular human eyes, obviously. I mean,
why would I have bird eyes? My Quirk is Wave Motion, not Bird Eyes. Anyway, I couldn't find
the building because I can't see details when I'm a thousand feet up."
"You went up a thousand feet?" asks Izuku, awed.
"Nah, I'm just exaggerating." Hado laughs. "But it felt like it, and at the end of class the teacher let
me fly around all I wanted. It was so amazing. The wind, the adrenaline, the view…" she trails off,
wistful. "It's almost as great as using my Quirk at one hundred percent."
"Flying is amazing," Izuku agrees. "Before my internship, I never got to fly in the open air. Then
Hawks taught me how to do it right and even showed me a few tricks. I can't compare it to using
my Quirk at one hundred percent, though. I've never done it."
"Hawks taught you tricks?" Hado asks, lips twitching upwards. Izuku nods, a bit flushed. "That's
awesome, you'll have to show me them sometimes."
"You can look them up online anytime you want," Izuku explains. "It's not that hard to find a video
of a barrel roll or a flying helix."
"Okay, yeah," Hado agrees, shifting so she can better look at Izuku. "But if you teach me, I'll learn
from a student of Hawks, which basically means I learned from the number three hero. I shouldn't
have to explain how cool that is."
"I guess," Izuku agrees. "But my form is a bit shaky. You could learn them wrong."
"Oh, that's not a problem," Hado waves him off. "We'll figure it out, yeah?"
"Yeah."
Moments later, a waitress brings their food over. Izuku graciously accepts his basket of fries and
fish, while Hado takes a bite of her chicken sandwich before the waitress even leaves. "Enjoy your
food," the waitress says.
"Y-you too," Izuku mumbles back. The waitress only laughs and walks away while Hado nearly
chokes on her food from amusement. Eventually she pulls it together, but she has to take another
swig of water to do so.
"I can't believe you actually did that." She giggles. "Tamaki did the same thing to Lunch Rush the
first day last year, and we didn't get over it for months."
"It's not the first time that's happened," Izuku admits, pink dusting his cheeks. "I do it at model
shops all the time."
"Models?" Hado asks, casually flicking a few fries from Togata's plate over to Amajiki's. "Like
fashion models or what?"
"Heroes, mostly," Izuku elaborates. "I started off with action figures when I was little, but I stopped
playing with them, so I started to make figures from kits."
"That's cool." Hado pops a fry in her mouth. "Anyways, I'm curious. You said you can't use your
Quirk at one hundred percent. Is that like a mental thing, or is it too unwieldy? I know I had trouble
with full charges when I first started, but I got better at them. Is it like that for you?"
Izuku rubs the fingers he broke in the Sports Festival. "No, I can activate my Quirk at its max
power easily, it's just… you know how Quirks are physical abilities?" Hado nods. "Well, when you
run five miles, you strain your body. When I use my Quirk, I also strain my body, and at a hundred
percent the strain is so much that I break myself."
Hado blinks. "Ouch."
Izuku laughs. "Yeah, ouch."
"Hey, we're back!" Izuku looks up from his meal to see Togata and Amajiki, each holding two
bowls. "Sorry for the wait," he says, setting the ice cream down on the table. "There was a line,
and Tamaki had a bit of trouble ordering. Also they only had ice cream, no shakes or anything.
Sorry, Nejire."
"Ooh, what happened?" Hado asks, already reaching for her bowl, which was clearly a cone to start
off but was probably placed in a container for ease of transport. "And don't worry, Togata. Ice
cream is ice cream."
"Oh, that's a relief." Togata mimes wiping his brow as he sits down. He quickly hands over Hado
and Izuku's change. "Anyways, Tamaki already knew what he wanted to order when we got to the
front, but then…"
"The cashier wouldn't stop looking at my ears. It was awful," Amajiki mumbles, taking a pair of
fries and dunking them in his ice cream, which is yellow in color.
"I'm sure they meant well," Togata says, taking a bite of his food. "Your ears are pointy which isn't
something you see everyday, you know? And they're quite nice too, so that probably played in."
To Izuku's side, Hado snorts. Izuku also can't stop himself from smiling as he looks across from
him. Amajiki is poking at his calamari with a fork while Togata smiles down at his basket of
chicken.
"Midoriya did the 'y-you too' thing while you guys were gone," Hado suddenly says. Togata's head
immediately shoots up.
"Did he really?" the blond boy asks. Hado smirks.
"Yup."
Togata starts to laugh, which triggers Hado, who has to push away from the table so she doesn't
spill anything. Izuku feels a smirk come onto his lips, and even Amajiki across from him smiles.
It's nice.
They finish lunch and pay for their own meals. After that, they head over to the beach and relax.
Being full, they don't really do much other than sit and make things out of sand. After an hour or
two of relaxation, Hado challenges the other three to a boys vs. girl volleyball match. She takes
them over to a court on the other side of the beach and borrows a ball from another friend group.
She then proceeds to absolutely destroy the three boys.
After the volleyball beatdown (because it was in no shape or form a match) they swim and wrestle
in the shallows for a while longer. Togata convinces them to play chicken, Hado organizes a swim-
off, and Amajiki ends up waist-deep in sand.
Once the ocean starts to turn cold and the sun starts to set, they pack up. But before they leave,
Hado gets a random beachgoer to take their picture. The four of them strike a couple of poses and
thank the person for their help. Hado happily sends the pictures out to them before they go their
separate ways.
On the train ride back home, Izuku looks the images over. Two stick out to him. He first shows the
four of them in a line, arms around each other's shoulders. Izuku and Togata are in the middle,
leaning into each other so they're ear-to-ear. Hado is to Izuku's right, reaching across his chest to
grab Amajiki's hand, practically hanging off of Izuku. Amajiki is to Togata's left, reaching out to
Hado while clinging tight to Togata's arm. All of them are smiling wide.
The second photo is a bit more stylized. Togata is in the front, kneeling in the sand in his bright red
trunks with his arms in his trademark power position. Amajiki is a few paces behind him, one hand
forward like he's reaching out for something or someone. Izuku and Hado are on either side of
them, facing out, Izuku in his All Might trunks and Hado in her blue two-piece. Despite their
swimwear, the photo gives off a heroic vibe.
Izuku loves it.
[x]
Weeks later, finals come. Izuku anxiously takes the written and then suits up for the practical a day
later. Standing before Aizawa outside the gates of one of U.A's training areas, he feels himself start
to sweat.
"Today's the final," Aizawa says. They both know that it's redundant. "This will be very difficult,
but no matter what happens, you've improved greatly."
"Thank you, sir," Izuku says, barely a whisper.
"One last thing before your briefing." Aizawa waits for Izuku to look him in the eye. "There's
summer training camps over break. Pass or fail, you'll be allowed to go. Since you're the only first
year, attendance isn't necessary, but I highly recommend it. That's all. Follow me."
The door to one of U.A's famous fake cities opens inward. Aizawa walks through, Izuku at his
heels. The man leads the boy through a maze of streets and plazas, never stopping once.
Eventually, they reach the opposite edge of the city and halt in front of what looks like a prison
without the outer fencing real prisons usually have.
"Go in," Aizawa orders. "You'll be briefed on everything there." Nodding, Izuku does as he's told.
The inside of the fake prison is clean. Izuku walks through the doors and into a waiting area and
looks around for a bit. Then, "I'm over here, Midoriya!" The voice of Nedzu calls his attention over
to the front desk. The principal is standing on top of a stack of books, making him taller than the
student.
"Aizawa said that you'd brief me, sir?" Izuku asks, walking over.
"That is correct," Nedzu says, stepping off his stack of books and handing Izuku the top one. It's
not a book at all, though. Instead, it's a packet. Izuku thumbs through the fifteen pages, careful not
to tear any. "This is your information for the final exam. There's a time limit of an hour, though
that's way longer than this should take."
"These are all building specs and villain profiles," Izuku says, a bit unsure. "What am I supposed to
do with them?"
"Why, that's simple." Nedzu smiles. "You're going to rescue a hostage."
"What?" Izuku asks. He stops flipping through the packet.
"You are to plan and execute a rescue operation in as little time as possible," Nedzu elaborates.
"You'll be saving a real person—a volunteer teacher playing a hostage, to be more specific—and
several obstacles will stand in your way.
"First are the robots, controlled by me. Don't worry, I can only edit patrol patterns and cannot
control their every move.
"Second are the guards. Three teachers, all handicapped, will be stationed in different parts of the
building.
"Finally, there is the building itself. This whole prison is heavily booby-trapped. Be careful and
study that information carefully, and please treat this as if it were the real deal. You may begin
when ready."
With that, Nedzu exits the room and leaves Izuku alone to plan. The boy quickly looks over the
packet again, as thoroughly as possible this time. He does his best to memorize the plans of all
three floors and the basement and jots down some important things in his mini notepad. Such
things include:
The hostage is in the basement

There are exactly 25 robots, all one pointers from the entrance exam
Midnight, Power Loader, and Cementoss are all stationed on a floor each
The only rooms with windows are cells
The hostage is tied up and injured, but still conscious
With a deep breath, Izuku makes his preparations. First thing, he slips on his respirator. The device
had been little more than a neck guard all semester, but now that Midnight is in the mix, it's a
godsend. The next thing he does is study the room he's in now. He's on the ground floor, so he
needs to go down. There's a vent above the door that leads further into the building, but common
sense rules it out. After all, what prison has vents big enough to fit a person?
Not wanting to chance the doorway being trapped, Izuku exits the door he came in from. He walks
around the building, hoping to see a window or something with access to the basement. He has no
such luck, but he does find plenty of barred windows. He picks one at random and carefully tests
their strength. The first one is much too strong and would require him to break the brick
surrounding it to break in. He checks a few more and finds one that's loose.
After prying the middle bar out, Izuku slips in as quiet as can be. He's towards the back of the
building, he notes. The cell he's in is six feet by six feet and has all the normal fixings. It's also
dark, the only source of light being the sun from the windows. Izuku quickly tries to think of a way
out of the cell, but he hears the tapping of shoes on the ground followed by the metallic clink of
robots. He throws himself up into the ceiling and clings for dear life. He's just in time, too, and
Midnight walks past, escorted by two robots. But something is wrong.
There was a one pointer, yes, but on her other side was a three pointer. That couldn't be right. The
information Nedzu gave him said only one pointers are in the building. Unless…
"Sixty perfect of covert ops have faulty information," Izuku mutters to himself, quoting Eraserhead.
If that's the angle Nedzu and Aizawa are going for, then everything in that packet could be wrong.
Mentally cursing himself, Izuku scans the outside of his cell. The first floor is divided into two
levels. He's on the bottom one, and judging by the clinking of high heels, Midnight is above.
Outside of his cell, about fifty feet away, are six bots, all two pointers. They stand stationary in the
middle of the dimly lit floor, gazing in all directions.
The bots didn't see him break in through the window. Or they did and couldn't react. Either way,
it's a good thing. Izuku waits for Midnight to make another pass before letting himself fall to the
ground silently. No reaction from the bots. He takes a few steps to the bars of the cell. Still
nothing. Calling One for All at three percent, he bends the bars. There's no sound, which is lucky.
What's unlucky is that Midnight is starting to walk down the stairs, and once she gets down to this
level, she'll see the bent bars.
With no time to think, Izuku throws himself out of the cell and flies over to the stairs with Float.
There's a small space under the stairs, and he crams himself in the moment he sees it. But not
without complication.
One of the robots saw Izuku, or at least his moment. It starts to walk over to his hiding spot, slow
and methodical. The boy starts to feel his heart beat even faster. This isn't good, he thinks. He's
about to be found out, and then he'll fail and then—
"What are you doing out of formation?" Midnight questions the bot. Izuku jumps from surprise and
nearly bangs his head on the underside of the stairs. "Get back in the circle and stay there. I'll call if
I need to." The bot obeys, but Izuku doesn't get to relax. He has to change floors.
As stealthily as possible, Izuku creeps from his hole and rises into the air. The ceiling is high, so
hopefully he'll be safe high up. Now with a bird's-eye view, he can definitively say that the floor
plan he was given is wrong. The hall is too long, and the ceiling is much too high. Instead of a pair
of elevators at the end of the room, there's a spiral staircase. One way up and one way down.
Izuku starts to float across the hall, back nearly scraping the stone ceiling. It's slow going—he
doesn't want to make any sudden moves—but he makes it to the staircase. Now he has a choice. Up
or down.
If he goes up and there isn't a hostage on the next floor, then he could try again on the third one.
But if there's nothing on the top floor then he'd have to make his way down two floors. The info he
was given said the hostage was in the basement, but it's all wrong anyways. That means he should
go up, right? But what if the information has some things correct? The whole dilemma is
frustrating.
Eventually, Izuku decides to go up. He only has to climb a few feet before he can peek over the
edge of the floor. What he sees makes his blood run cold.
There, in the center of a very well-lit room stands Eraserhead, carefully keeping an eye on a
civilian-dressed Present Mic.
The first thing Izuku thinks is why. Why would they design a test like this? Where he's bound to
fail. There's no way he can sneak up on Aizawa in a well-lit room, and as soon as the man looks at
him once, he's done for.
The next thought Izuku has isn't a thought. It's a feeling. Anger. White-hot and itchy, and replacing
the cold numbness. How dare they lie to him like this. Sure, maybe this is what pros deal with, but
pros have backup. Izuku has to do this completely solo, which he isn't ready for. He'd be an idiot
not to realize there's no way for him to win.
After anger comes the frustration. Why isn't he good enough? After nearly six months of nonstop
training, why can't he do this? Why is he useless again? How is it that he's not able to think his
way out of this?
The anger and frustration build and build, feeding and growing off of each other. If only Izuku
could drag Aizawa over. Then the teacher could go down in one hit. All Izuku needs is to get
Eraserhead. To capture him. And the hostage.
Izuku's hands begin to itch, along with the rest of his upper body. Pressure, or maybe power,
strains in his chest, howling to be let loose. Instinctively, he lets it go.
Black, inky tentacles erupt from his arms and torso, tearing his costume and clawing at anything
and everything in reach. They drag Izuku upwards by clinging to the ceiling, the boy kicking and
screaming. The tentacles lash out wildly. There's so many of them, swinging through the air, each
with a mind of their own and hellbent on destruction. The bars on cells shatter, the ground cracks,
and Aizawa and Present Mic are both wrapped up tight in the black strands.
Izuku grits his teeth, desperately trying to turn it off. Stop, he yells at it. He doesn't want this. It
starts to hurt, the power too much for his body. He cries out in pain and then suddenly it's gone.
Izuku falls to the ground, exhausted.
Aizawa and Present Mic rush to his side, the latter carefully cradling his head. Aizawa's eyes still
burn with his power, and his face is twisted into an expression of shock and horror.
"What the fuck, Problem Child."
Chapter End Notes
I see this as two chapters smashed together to make one mega chapter. Even then it's
only 5.5k words. In other news, I wrote this all today because I had a snow day, and
Izuku achieves problem child status. I hope you enjoyed. I might edit the Blackwhip
scene later. Cheers!
Blackwhip
Chapter Notes
Izuku's heart is beating at what feels like a million miles an hour, refusing to slow down even for a
second. The cool air is heated by the obscene temperature of his now bare skin, the top half of his
costume ripped to shreds. And above all else, he's hyperventilating.
"Midoriya," Present Mic says from somewhere. His voice is calm but tinged with worry. "Listen to
me. Breath like I do, okay? In one, two, three, out one, two, three, in…"
Izuku tries his best to follow, but it's hard. Adrenaline is pumping through his veins, and the pain
in his chest is almost unbearable. "You've got this, listener. C'mon, breathe!" Mic continues to
coach him, and after what feels like an hour he regains some semblance of an even rhythm.
"Kid," Aizawa says. Izuku looks up to him. His eyes are still glowing with his Quirk. Izuku finally
realizes that something feels off. Like he's empty or missing a piece of himself. "I'm going to drop
my Quirk. Do you think you can reign it in?"
Izuku shakes his head no. "I-I can't. It's… it's like the first time I used it. It just… acts."
"The first time?" Aizawa asks.
"... I saved someone from falling trash," Izuku explains. The heat has lessened somewhat, but the
ache is still there. "It just flicked on and exploded out."
Aizawa mutters something about getting dry eye, but he doesn't seem mad, only worried. Present
Mic elbows him, and the homeroom teacher continues. "Midoriya, I'm going to have to blink
eventually. The other teachers are on their way. If you can't control it, we'll knock you out and get
you on some Quirk Suppressants, got it?"
"Got it."
They wait for Izuku to calm down a bit more before Aizawa blinks. When he does, Izuku
immediately feels the power start to build again. This time, he fights against it, gritting his teeth
and forcing Blackwhip down. He fights so hard that he exhausts himself, and after a few moments
spent teetering on the edge of consciousness, he passes out.
Izuku doesn't wake up, but he becomes conscious of his slumber. As his body rests, his mind
moves at top speed. A flurry of emotions and memories assault his senses, most of them his, but a
few not. Somehow, someway, he ends up back on the beach.
Eight suns hang high in a black sky, glowing in power. Izuku's feet dig into the sand below, and he
reaches up, as though he could latch onto the glowing lights. He feels at home.
"Oi! You!" Izuku jumps and turns around, barely getting a chance to register who the voice belongs
to before a finger is shoved into his chest. He stumbles back and lands on his butt in the sand.
"What the hell were you thinking? Letting it all go like that was a stupid idea, and I've had a lotta
stupid ideas in my time."
Izuku stands back and looks forward. Before him stands a man, nearly two meters tall with a bald
head and a leather jacket. Goggles rest on top of his head and a bullet belt is slung across his chest.
His combat boots dig into the sand and a gruff expression rules his face. His entire body glows a
warm, ethereal orange. "You're Five," Izuku breathes.
Five scoffs. "Congrats, you've done some research. But clearly you don't do enough of it if you let
Blackwhip loose like that!"
Izuku flinches. "I couldn't keep it in," he defends. "I just had to get it all out."
"Well, you did a bang up job of that. I'll tell ya what." Five spits into the sand. Then, he holds out
an open palm. "My Blackwhip is top-grade, ya dig? It's got all sorts of different applications you'll
figure out with that noggin of yours." From his hand sprouts a single tendril, inky black and
writhing with life. "But it can't be used lightly." Five lowers his hand and harshly pokes Izuku in
the chest once more. "Do you understand that, Nine? All of our Quirks are superpowered now!
You can thank your master for that."
Izuku swallows. "I read your file. You could manage five whips at once and they were almost
unbreakable. Does that mean…" he trails off.
Five nods. "Yeah, it does. You let twenty whips free with that stunt of yours, and you tore through
the room. I wouldn't be surprised if you can conjure up over a hundred once you can use all of our
power without going splat. But that comes at a price."
Izuku twitches. "What kind of price?"
Five crosses his arms, serious. "Before I got One for All, Blackwhip almost had a mind of its own.
It obeyed me, sure, but when it popped out it liked to do what it wanted to do. That only got worse
after I got this Quirk of ours."
"So it's impossible to control it!?" Izuku's heart starts to beat faster, and the beach starts to glow.
"What do I do if that happens again? I can't hold it in forever!"
"Hey, hey, calm down!" Five grabs Izuku by the shoulders and gives him a good shake. "There's a
way around it! Relax." Izuku takes a few deep breaths and calms down.
"How do I use your Quirk?"
"You were pissed when it came, yeah?" Five asks. Izuku nods. "That's your trigger for it, and it's
also how you control the thing. You gotta show Blackwhip who's boss and manhandle it into
obeying you. Do that enough and do it with the right spirit, and it'll heed your call like a loyal
dog."
"That sounds like it's really difficult," Izuku mumbles. "Holding a Quirk as strong as One for All
under my thumb seems impossible."
"It's going to be hard," Five agrees. "But you're lucky you got Seven's Quirk first and then mine. If
you had gotten Two's or Three's first…" He shakes his head. "That's not important. Work hard with
Blackwhip, and keep doing what you're doing. I dunno if you'll get another one, so be prepared for
anything."
"Wait, I could get another one!?" Izuku shrieks. "That's too many! I can already fly and punch
through walls! What else could I need?"
Five shrugs. "Beats me. Neither of us really make the decisions around here." He gives Izuku one
last poke to the chest. "Work hard and don't be afraid to get angry, yeah? I gotta go. Good luck,
Nine." With that, he puts on a soft smile and fades from existence.
Izuku only gets to admire the spot where Five stood for a short while before he feels a pull. It's not
uncomfortable. In fact, it's quite welcoming, so Izuku lets it take him. Seconds later, he wakes back
up.
[x]
As Midoriya falls asleep, Nemuri and Cementoss come rushing in, followed closely by Power
Loader and Nedzu.
"Eraser, what the hell happened?" Nemuri asks, kneeling on Midoriya's left and looking the boy
over. "I heard screaming so I came running. Is the little guy alright?"
"He's got a pulse," Mic supplies, which would normally be a relief but the fact that it's necessary to
say that out loud is horrifying. "I was right there when it happened but…"
"It was hectic," Aizawa supplies, looking over Hizashi's shoulder at the principal and the other two
teachers. "I didn't even see him. One moment I was counting the specks of dust on the floor and the
next I was wrapped up in tentacles and Midoriya was swinging around in midair."
"Tentacles, you say?" Nedzu takes a step closer, looking all too pleased with himself. He gives
Midoriya a light nudge with his foot. The boy remains unresponsive. "Well, that's not what I was
expecting."
"So you were expecting something," Aizawa accuses. He's spent enough time around the rat to
know a thing or two about how he operates. "You cornered him to see what would happen. That
was your plan, right?"
"Yes," Nedzu says, shamelessly sipping on his ever-present tea.
Aizawa huffs. "He could've brought down the building with enough time, not to mention the pain
he was in."
"Hmm, how unfortunate." Nedzu scans Midoriya's body, which is red and raw-looking, with fresh
bruises littering his arms and upper chest. "Tell me more about these tentacles."
"It was like something out of an old Lovecraft novel," Hizashi speaks up. "They were all gooey-
looking and never stopped moving. They were cold, too, like ice, almost. The things almost
cracked my ribs before Aizawa turned on his Quirk."
"And what was Midoriya's reaction to having his Quirk erased?" Nedzu asks.
"He was panicked, but that was probably residual from his earlier state," Aizawa informs, carefully
watching his student's face for any sign of movement. "We calmed him down and then I stopped
my Quirk. I could tell that whatever those things were wanted to break loose again, but Midoriya
didn't let them. He fainted soon after."
"What a shame." Nedzu turns to Cementoss. "If you could please look the room over for flaws in
structural integrity, that would be great. Midnight, Power Loader, you may resume your regular
duties."
"Hold on a second," Aizawa says, letting his voice grow harsh and commanding. "You set this up.
You forced my student into a worst-case scenario situation for some kind of reaction. Tell me what
it is."
Nedzu looks him dead in the eye, expression blank but eyes teeming with emotion, the most
prominent being fascination. "I hypothesized that Midoriya may have a mutation or variant of his
mother's Quirk alongside his Superpower ability," he explains. "I wanted to test if it was true."
"Ms. Midoriya can make eldritch abominations?" Mic asks, sounding much too serious for what he
just said.
Nedzu laughs. "No, no, Midoriya Inko has a minor telekinetic Quirk. I expected her son to get
some kind of pulling attribute or attraction aspect. I thought it would lean more towards telekinesis,
but what you two described?" Nedzu looks down at Midoriya again. "It's beyond my wildest
expectations. Black tentacles with enough strength to rip through concrete, how fascinating."
"What I want to know is how it went untriggered for years," Aizawa says, setting aside a whole
host of questions for later. "Dual-aspect Quirks exist, but they're rare and almost always have both
parts show when the ability manifests. Midoriya should've shown those things years ago. What
repressed them?"
"Oh, that's quite simple really." Nedzu takes a sip of tea. "Midoriya was thought to be Quirkless
until a few months before he took the entrance exam. Why, All Might found him on a beach the
day he manifested it and took him right to Recovery Girl."
Aizawa lets that sink in for a few seconds, not noticing the worried look Hizashi shoots him. "Let
me get this straight," he says, deathly calm. "Midoriya didn't get his Quirk until he was fourteen
and was raised all of his childhood as though he were Quirkless. He broke his arms and was saved
by All Might, who took the boy under his wing. Then he enrolled in this school where you set him
up for a crushing defeat just to see whether or not he'd have another ability."
"That is correct, yes." Nedzu isn't fazed one bit. "I just don't see how this is a problem."
"Do you have any idea of how bad Quirkless kids are treated?" Aizawa asks redundantly.
"Yes, but I don't understand your point. Midoriya has a Quirk now, no?" The worst part is that
Aizawa can tell that Nedzu is absolutely serious.
"He's not like you, sir," Hizashi speaks up. "Humans aren't like you. Or maybe we are—after all,
you still hold a grudge for all of those experiments. People don't get fixed when their problems go
away. It takes time to heal the wounds they have, and in Midoriya's case, they might never fully
heal."
Nedzu stares at the boy laid out on the floor. Midoriya is deep in his slumber, eyes moving about
rapidly under his eyelids, and his breathing relaxed and even. The principal's expression is
completely unreadable, though his breathing is slightly shallow. Eventually, he draws himself up
and speaks. "Gentleman, please watch over him until he wakes. I'd prefer it if you take him to see
the nurse. Call his mother and tell her what happened. When he wakes up, tell him he passed."
"Yes, sir."
Who could've known, Aizawa thinks as his boss of seven years walks away. Maybe the rat has a
human side after all.
[x]
When Izuku finally manages to wake, the first thing he notices is his splitting headache. He groans,
rolling over to his side and clutching his forehead with one hand. The warm blankets on top of him
tangle around his legs.
"Easy there, Problem Child," a gruff but well-meaning voice says. "You're in the infirmary. You
passed out during the test."
Immediately, Izuku sits up, nearly launching himself out of the hospital bed he's in. "What
happened?" he asks, frantically trying to remember what happened leading up to him losing
consciousness. "Did I fail?"
Mr. Aizawa looks at him incredulously for a moment. His scarf and goggles are sitting on the chair
next to his, which is a weird sight. Izuku doesn't think he's ever seen the man without his
trademark. "You passed on technicality. But with what happened at the end, I wouldn't worry too
much about your grade."
Izuku clutches the sheet on his legs. "What happened?" he asks, half-knowing what's to come
already.
"Your Quirk went haywire," Aizawa explains, leaning back in his seat. There's a small end table
next to him with a pair of steaming mugs. He picks one up and hands it to Izuku. The boy takes a
sip. It's coffee, black and bitter, but comfortably warm nonetheless. "There were these black
tentacles ripping through the place and attacking me and Mic. They went away when I used my
Quirk, remember?"
Izuku watches his teacher sip on his own drink. A sense of deja vu washes over him. The event
described sounds familiar, but also foreign. "I think so..." he mumbles. "It's all so fuzzy."
"You've been out for a couple of hours, so that's not a surprise," Aizawa explains. "Give it some
time; it'll come back. In the meantime, you should get ready to go home. I'll phone your mom in a
second; she's been waiting for you to wake up."
"Thank you, Mr. Aizawa."
A couple minutes later, Izuku has swapped out his ruined costume for a standard U.A uniform and
taken a train ride home with his mother. His phone is absolutely swamped with notifications,
mostly texts from his friends, All Might, and his mother. They all know that something happened
and that he was in the infirmary. He does his best to explain what happened to his mother and
replies to his friends. Then he texts All Might three words.
I got Blackwhip.
The response is instantaneous. Izuku quickly explains how and why, along with everything he can
remember from his dream. By the time Izuku and his mother get back to their apartment, All Might
knows everything he needs to know and has told his successor to take it easy a couple dozen times
and that they'll reconvene the next day after school.
The rest of the night passes quickly, with Izuku texting his new friends and helping his mother with
dinner before working on some last-minute assignments. He goes to bed a bit earlier than usual and
sleeps soundly.
The next day, Izuku sleeps in on his mentor's orders. He eats a big breakfast and does the dishes
before going his usual route to school. He says hi to the people in his car and makes some idle
conversations before stepping off.
It's not until he gets to the gates of U.A that Izuku realizes what's going to happen. Questions.
Questions on top of questions, all of which he probably couldn't or shouldn't answer. As he slowly
walks through campus and down the halls, Izuku tries to get a story, any story straight. The easiest
would definitely be to play dumb. Nedzu had drilled that into his head when he taught Izuku about
lying. Play dumb or make something simple up. Always stick to the same lie, even if it becomes
ridiculous. The notion of lying to Aizawa and his friends makes Izuku's stomach churn, but it's
necessary.
When Izuku gets to classroom 1-A, the door is already open. He walks in to see Mr. Aizawa sitting
on his desk with a massive mug of coffee. There's a cat painted on the front of it and a coffee
maker plugged into the wall behind him.
"Good morning, sir," Izuku greets, walking to the only desk in the room and setting his bag down.
He doesn't sit.
"Midoriya, good morning." Aizawa takes a swig of coffee. His eyes are very dry this morning,
most likely because of an eventful patrol. Had he really gone to work after a day like yesterday? It
seems a little odd, but then again no one was hurt. "I've got a few things to ask you, but I bet you
already knew that."
"Yes, sir, I did." Izuku's palms start to sweat and he feels his knees start to shake.
"You can sit down," Aizawa says. Izuku does. "Did you know that that was going to happen?" the
man asks, clearly wanting to get straight to the point.
"... Not exactly," Izuku says before immediately wincing. That wasn't the right thing to say.
"What do you mean by not exactly?" Aizawa asks. Izuku is suddenly unable to look anywhere but
the wall to his left. He starts to mutter and mumble, his thoughts a garbled mess. "Midoriya,"
Aizawa says, gentle but firm. "Calm down. I'm not mad, I just want to know some things so what
happened yesterday doesn't happen again."
"Okay," Izuku whispers. He thinks for a while. Then, "I… felt that feeling before. Er, I mean I've
felt the same way I did before those things popped out on other days."
"What did you feel like?"
"Angry and frustrated. Maybe a little bit humiliated, too," Izuku recounts. "It… felt like there was
something pushing against me, and I got hot, and my skin was itchy. I never released it before, but
that time I didn't want to keep it in."
Aizawa stares at him for a long moment. Then he methodically reaches for and downs the rest of
his mug of coffee. He then lets out a sigh and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. "We'll
deal with that later," he decides. "But one last thing."
Izuku looks up at him, curious as to what he wants to know. "Sir?" he asks.
"You were Quirkless," Aizawa says bluntly. Izuku feels his heart sink. "The principal informed me
that you haven't even had your power for a year yet. Considering that, all of your accomplishments
are more impressive. However." Izuku swallows, prepared for the worst-case scenario. The only
logical thing to ask is how Izuku managed to go all of his life without presenting his Quirk, and
Aizawa is a very logical man.
"How are you?" the man says. Izuku does a rather impressive imitation of a fish out of water.
"H-how… what?"
"How are you?" Aizawa asks again. Izuku is still confused.
"What do you mean?"
Aizawa considers something for a moment. "I won't claim to know what it was like going through
school without a Quirk. The statistics we hear about are enough for me to guess, though." Izuku
chews his lip, feeling guilty. He was one of probably thousands of Quirkless people in Japan before
he met All Might. How fortunate was he to escape that life, and how many Quirkless people didn't
get that same chance? "What I do know," Aizawa continues, "is how not fitting into society's mold
affects someone."
Aizawa's eyes glow red, Erasure activating. Izuku can't help but feel slightly uncomfortable with
the absence of his Quirk. And then he understands. "Oh…"
Aizawa nods. "Yeah. We're not the same, Midoriya. But we do come from similar situations. We
may not know each other well, but..." He screws up his nose, as though disgusted with what he's
about to say. "You can… come to me if you need to. I'll listen to what you've got to say as long as
you need. Understand, Problem Child?"
Izuku can't speak, but he can nod. He does so, vigorously shaking his head up and down. He opens
his mouth, but the only thing that comes out is a croak. Then the tears start, big and fat and
streaming down the curves of his cheeks. "Th-thank," he chokes before sobbing.
Aizawa rises from his spot and moves to Izuku's desk. He rests a hand on the boy's back. "This is
why I don't do mushy stuff," he mumbles. His harsh words are betrayed by his fond expression.
[x]
Izuku has an easy schedule for the rest of his time at U.A that day. His lesson with Nedzu is almost
relaxing, with the two of them brainstorming ideas for Blackwhip and the principal being much
more docile than usual. His other classes are mostly theory work-focused. His costume is shot, so
the teachers can't exactly have him practice right away. That doesn't stop Midnight from teaching
him how to rappel down a building and Power Loader from making him think up new costume
designs, though.
For lunch, Izuku eats with his friends. They pester him with questions as though he didn't spend
hours last night explaining everything he knew, and voice their worry so much it makes him blush.
After lunch, Izuku and his friends are sent over to a training room. This one is padded and painted
blue and red, with multiple raised platforms and boxing rings. Mr. Aizawa has them don gloves and
headgear and tells them to spar with no Quirks. Togata is easily the best at it, mostly since his
Quirk has no physical attacks and therefore requires him to know a lot about hand-to-hand combat.
Izuku is also pretty good, applying what he's learned from Eraserhead and Mr. Pink to hold out
against Togata and beat Amajiki and Hado.
After one last promise to Aizawa that he'll take it easy, Izuku leaves campus and heads home. He
quickly changes out of his uniform and into a set of workout clothes and shoots a text to his mother
that he'd be home by eight. Then he runs from his apartment all the way to Gym Midoriya.
"Gran? Yagi?" Izuku calls out as he steps in the door.
"Ah, Midoriya!" All Might greets from his spot at the counter. To his left, Gran Torino looks up
from a book. "You're here a bit early. Sorahiko, could you get the stuff?"
Gran gets up and heads for the basement, congratulating Izuku on unlocking Blackwhip as he does.
All Might also gets up and takes Izuku by the arm. "Upstairs. I've got a couple drills for you to try
out. Do you think you can summon it again?"
Izuku chews his lower lip. "I think so, but power regulation is another story."
"So I've heard." All Might starts to ascend the stairs. "But that won't be a problem. Gran and I can
handle anything you throw out at us, and this building is more or less expendable."
Izuku nods in agreement. They reach the top of the stairs, and Gran Torino comes up a few
moments later, carrying a big burlap sack. He throws it to the floor and says, "My joints are old,
make the brat do it next time." Then, "If one of you numbskulls makes a crack about old Saint
Nick, your teeth are gonna come out."
Izuku laughs because he thinks Gran is joking. All Might laughs because he knows he's not.
Kneeling down and pulling open the sack, Izuku is met with the sight of a bunch of junk. Tin cans,
old metal toys, a stack of used paper, and a little Endeavor plushie that's scuffed and charred on the
tips of its feet. "What's this stuff for?" he asks.
"Practice," All Might says. "You'll be working on fine control of Blackwhip, and the contents of
that bag are your targets."
Izuku carefully tests the key of an old wind-up Matchbox car. It breaks off, and rust dirties his
fingers. "I guess it's best if no one will miss any of it."
"Indeed. Let's get started, shall we?"
Soon enough, Izuku stands ten paces away from a soup can resting on top of a couple cinder
blocks. All Might and Gran are twenty paces behind him, safely away from whatever havoc Izuku
may or may not reap.
"Just let it all out!" All Might encourages. "Do whatever you need to do to activate it, then try and
grab the soup can!"
"I'll knock you out if it hits the fan, kid," Gran adds. "No need to worry."
Izuku bobs his head up and down, hopping in place and shaking out his arms to psych himself up.
"I got this," he breathes. "Just get mad. I can get mad. Anger is my friend. I got this."
After a few more deep breaths, Izuku throws his arm out and clenches his butt-cheeks as hard as he
can. One for All thrums beneath his skin, but Blackwhip doesn't come. He tries again, more
forceful this time. The telltale itch in his palms comes, but nothing more. Izuku tries once more, but
still nothing comes.
"Well that was pathetic," Gran says to himself.
"Maybe you're being too forceful," All Might voices his opinion. "One for All and Float don't
really respond to force."
"But Five said anger was my trigger," Izuku reminds. "It came out before because I was mad."
The three of them go back and forth with ideas for a short while before Izuku goes back to
throwing out his hand. He tries again and again, stubbornly persisting for hours to no avail.
Halfway through, Gran Torino takes a seat on the floor and All Might sets down his notes to join
him.
By the time the clock strikes seven fifteen, Izuku is getting sick of it all. "Why won't you come?"
he mutters to his Quirk. There's no response, obviously. Quirks aren't alive, but One for All does
pulse a bit stronger. "I know you're in there," Izuku says, forceful. "So come out and get me that
can!" His last word is all but a growl, and he throws his arm out in a punch. There's nothing.
"Dammit!" he swears, kicking the floor. Why's he being useless again? Getting One for All was
supposed to change that, but here he is, failing and wasting hours of precious time.
"Maybe we should call it a night," All Might soothes, getting up from the floor. "You've been at it
for hours."
Izuku ignores his mentor, choosing instead to focus on his hands. He feels his anger and frustration
build in his chest. They'd been there for a while, simmering quietly in wait. But now, Izuku fuels
them. The boy lets his memories of being kicked down flow through his head. The years of
teasing, the humiliation of being knocked down, the repressed rage and frustration of not being
able to fight back.
His skin starts to glow, white-hot and lined with red. His breathing goes ragged, and his hair
flutters in a non-existent breeze. Pressure builds. Izuku holds it in until he's about to burst. Then he
lets it out.
Instantly, Blackwhip explodes, its inky black tentacles clawing at everything in reach. The ceiling
is cracked, the floor shakes, and the wall is peppered with cuts and holes. The power is almost too
great, but instead of letting go of it, Izuku digs in deeper. He holds his ground, becoming an anchor
in the storm of chaos.
"You're mine, dammit!" he screams. Blackwhip refuses to acknowledge him, so he pulls on it. "My
Quirk, my power! I control you!" His voice becomes a growl, low and gravely as a teenage boy can
be. With one final pull on the metaphorical chain, Izuku gives it all that he's got. "You'll do what I
want!"
The line goes slack, and Blackwhip heels. The fifteen odd misshapen tendrils disappear, and a
single solid black strand extends from Izuku's fingers. It pierces the target soup can, creating a hole
a few inches in diameter and sinking into the wall behind.
Izuku swallows and breathes heavily. There's sweat soaking through his now torn shirt, along with
bruises on his skin. His face is twisted up in a furious snarl, and green lighting dances across his
skin.
He collapses a moment later, exhausted. All Might and Gran rush to his side, making sure his head
doesn't hit the floor. They congratulate him and voice their pride, but if only Izuku had seen the
fear in their eyes moments earlier as they stared upon a monstrosity.
[x]
Hosu City is home to the scum of the scum. Brothels, seedy bars, and black markets litter the
urban scene, drawing Pro Heroes and partially evil villains all the same. Hosu City is also home to
hundreds of thousands, if not millions, of poor families. Many with children.
A pale hand, careful and silent, reaches for the glass of an apartment building's window. One, two,
three, four, five fingers make contact, and the glass turns to dust in seconds.
Fog, pitch black and purple, creeps in, shrouding the room and smothering all light. A child,
perhaps six years of age, cowers under their blanket, unable to scream.
A lean and thin figure climbs through the window, delicately entering the bedroom. The child's
breath hitches, and they start to hyperventilate.
"Shush," a deep, smooth baritone voice says. "We're not here to harm you."
"Y-y-you're not?" the child hiccups. The tears formerly tricking down their face cease.
"No," another voice says, this one higher and raspy. The thin man carefully approaches the bed.
They reach out a single skinny hand. "We're… friends of Peter Pan. Do you want to go to
neverland?"
"I-I guess so," the child says, wiping their eyes. "Can you take me there?"
"We sure can," the figure rasps. "Just climb out of bed and come with me."
The child does so hesitantly. Their mother and father had talked about stranger danger, but these
were friends of Peter Pan. Surely they could be trusted.
It's only after the young one has crossed over through a swirling black portal and looks back at
their new friends that they realize that the man who took them has more than two hands.
Chapter End Notes
Blackwhip is hands down my favorite Quirk in mha. It's just so cool and awesome
looking. It gives off a cosmic and eldritch sort of vibe which I love, and it's just so
useful.
Anyways, you can probably guess what that last scene is but good luck figuring out
the hell those two are planing. Next one will have the trianing camp and then once that
bit is done we'll move on to an original arc of mine. Til next time. Cheers!
Break You Down, Build You Up pt. 1
Chapter Notes
"... And how will you be spending summer break?" A teaspoon clinks against the ceramic of a cup,
swirling the dark liquid around and forming a whirlpool. The spoon is placed on a rest, and the cup
is raised to a pair of fuzzy lips.
"I'm not entirely sure," the young boy says, nursing his own mug of tea, green rather than the black
of his mentor. "All Might and Gran are flip-flopping between making me take the whole month off
and doubling down on training. Especially since I can activate Blackwhip now."
"Hmm, yes, you never did tell me how you managed that." The principal adds a small cube of
sugar to his tea. "I take it that the process was difficult?"
Across from the white animal, Izuku sets a notebook on the table between them. Opening the black
cover, he turns it around to show Nedzu his notes. "It was hard on the first day, especially since I
let it go full throttle and had to pull it back. But over the weekend, I managed to make one small
whip without too much difficulty. I could still feel it fighting back, though. It all relies on my
emotions. Mostly anger, but frustration works, too."
"Your observations make it seem like Blackwhip, or maybe One for All as a whole, is alive."
Nedzu carefully flips a page to look at a sketch of Blackwhip in action. "I wonder why that is."
Izuku sets his cup on the table. "Well… I think it could be alive." Nedzu says nothing but locks
eyes with his student, who continues, "This Quirk has been passed down for nine generations. All
Might and I have both seen vestiges, remnants of the past holders. They talk, and I've told you
about that dreamscape thing. How else could One for All manage stuff like that if it's not alive? Or
if the former users didn't have some kind of control? Five even said that he didn't make the
decisions, which only implies that someone else does. It all just seems funny for a Quirk, which is
supposed to be like my arm. Part of me, but not alive."
"Whether it's alive or not, it's a part of you," Nedzu corrects. "But yes, I agree that, in your
experience, One for All is alive, partially sentient, or at the very least carries bits of the past
holders within itself. How did you reach this conclusion? Surely you're not sharing this with me
based on one conversation and a vague feeling."
"I meditated a lot over the weekend," Izuku explains. "It was the only thing that came to mind
when I thought about how to figure out an answer. L-like those old monks and stuff trying to
understand themselves. I locked myself in my bedroom, sat on my bed, and turned the Quirk on."
"And?" Nedzu leans forward, curious.
"It didn't feel like normal." Izuku wrings his hands. "One for All is usually hot. Or really explosive.
When I regulate the power or actively use it, I can always sorta feel what I'm not using waiting to
be let out. But when I just turned it on and sat, it felt off."
"Off how?"
"Off like One for All wasn't sure what to do without me controlling it," Izuku breathes. "I… made
a bridge between my body and the Quirk like usual, but I did manipulate it. I didn't use Full Cowl, I
didn't force it into a limb. I just let it sit and didn't even regulate the power level. And it didn't go to
one hundred percent, either. It just... kinda sat there for a while. I felt calm and relaxed, but
something else felt uncertain. Then I think One for All tried to do something, but I'm not sure what.
I turned it off before anything could happen because I had to eat dinner."
"Curious, curious." Nedzu sets down his cup of tea, processing his student's rambling. "Do you
know what it looked like from the outside?"
Izuku shakes his head. "No, but my mom said my room was glowing, so the usual green lightning
was probably there."
Nedzu nods. "I see. Would you like to try it again?"
"Um, sure," Izuku says. "It's not unpleasant, just weird. Like something else is in my soul."
"Then let's get started."
Nedzu takes Izuku to a more comfortable room than the office they were in previously. It's a cool
but relaxed temperature, with large windows and inoffensive decor. Couches and armchairs dot the
space, and the principal claims the fluffiest-looking one before directing Izuku to pick a spot.
Quickly getting comfortable on a low couch, Izuku shakes off his blazer and crosses his legs in a
lotus position. He closes his eyes and breathes in deeply. Activating One for All, he breathes out
and reaches for the power. Like before, Izuku doesn't guide it and lets the Quirk govern itself. Also
like before, the Quirk doesn't really do anything for a while, and Izuku feels something in the back
of his head.
Waiting waiting waiting why waiting waiting why waiting…
They're not words, but rather feelings of someone else. It's patient but also confused. Familiar, yet
new. Reaching out mentally, Izuku gives it a little nudge, barely a tap, as if to say 'I'm waiting,
please get up and do something'. It's not what he did before, but he is on a time crunch now. Izuku
doesn't exactly have all day to sit around and wait for a Quirk to make its own choice.
Nudging the power was apparently the wrong thing to do, though. Instead of touching Izuku back,
or swirling in the back of his mind like before, it explodes.
Free free free free free!
It screams into his mind. Energy heats Izuku's skin and the boy feels his stomach drop. His shirt
begins to feel tight, and his arms start to itch. He feels his muscles start to spasm, and his legs lose
contact with the couch.
Izuku endures the rollercoaster of mental and physical activity for only a few moments. The power
starts off small but grows stronger, all the way to his limit and beyond. Once it becomes
uncomfortable, he slams on the mental breaks, taking the reins and tugging on the chain like he did
with Blackwhip. Instantly, Izuku falls back onto the couch and a wave of fatigue washes over him.
One for All goes dormant. He opens his eyes, feeling sore. Shock hits him a moment later.
"Wh… what?" Izuku breathes. The room is in utter disarray. Couches and chairs are overturned,
the few tables are broken, and one of the windows is cracked. Near the exit, Nedzu is partially
covered in tea, and there's a small cut on the side of his face.
"Dear me," the principal says, dabbing at the cut with a handkerchief. "I think it's best that you
don't try that again until you talk to Yagi. And even then, I wouldn't recommend doing it lightly.
That only took a few seconds."
"I did all of that in seconds?" Izuku says, mystified. "But I didn't even move!"
"You didn't do this," Nedzu disagrees. "One for All did. You managed to stop it, though, which is a
good thing. If you couldn't control the Quirk, we'd be in a lot of trouble."
"Y-yeah, definitely." Izuku awkwardly rubs the back of his neck. "So what now?"
Nedzu shrugs. "Talk to All Might. What you just did was very… oh, I don't like how this sounds,
but spiritual is the only way to explain it. Your connection with One for All has gotten a lot more
complicated, and where you go from here is up to you. If I had to give my opinion, I'd say that you
should feel this out for a couple of weeks. It's best to be more informed."
With one final flourish, Nedzu sends Izuku off. "To Aizawa with you! Try not to give the man too
many grey hairs." The boy is barely halfway down the hall when he hears the principal chattering
to himself about the significance and morals of sentient superpowers.
Throughout the rest of the day, Izuku pays close attention to One for All. It's a little hard,
considering that he's distracted most of the time, but he manages to pause every now and again to
make note of things. In classes where One for All isn't active, Izuku still feels a presence of
something, but it's very obviously dormant, hibernating in the back of his mind. When Aizawa uses
his Quirk on him, Izuku feels empty and incomplete. When Izuku has his Quirk on, everything is
more or less normal, though the presence is more pronounced, like it's just barely conscious. But
it's when Izuku is in active combat and using his Quirk that he feels the difference.
Satisfaction. Euphoria. Fulfillment. Freedom. Joy. Exhilaration. Not all of the feelings are his.
Izuku could be getting crushed by Amajiki in a spar and feeling self-critical, or fighting evenly with
Hado in the air and enjoying the rush, or gaining the upper hand in a round with Togata and
reveling in the fruits of his hard work, but One for All would give off the same feelings.
It's all very confusing, and Izuku takes lots of notes before sending them to All Might, the only
other person who would know about this sort of thing. Sentient and living Quirks exist, but One for
All just… Izuku can't put his finger on it. The only word he can think of is different, but that's far
too vague. He tries to think of a better answer all day, but he can't think up one. His friends notice,
of course, and try to distract him, which is nice, but Izuku might have another lifeform inside of
him and that's very stressful. He manages to avoid everyone's prying questions for the rest of the
day.
"Hey, Midoriya."
Izuku looks up from his phone to see Togata, who's rushing across the open courtyard just inside
the gates of U.A. School is over, and he should really head for the gym. Regrouping with All Might
is a top priority.
"Hi," Izuku greets back, eyes twitching over to the gate and his hand clutching his phone a little
tighter. "What's going on?"
Togata shrugs. "Not much. It's the last day of term, you know?" Izuku quickly agrees and the older
boy continues cheerfully, "Anyways, the three of us were thinking about having a sleepover
tonight. My house. We mostly plan to watch movies, but I know Hado's got plans to bring over her
console. Whaddya say?"
Izuku opens his mouth to say no, but then his phone buzzes. From the pattern, he knows it's from
All Might. Izuku looks down at his lock screen.
I need to think on this. We'll talk when you get back from camp. I should have an answer by then.
"Uh, maybe?" Izuku says, hurriedly unlocking his phone and typing out a reply. He's a little
disappointed at the lack of a real answer to all of his burning questions, but more time with friends
is always nice, and everything will be figured out eventually. Or so he hopes. "I'll need to ask my
mom first."
"Alright!" Togata gives Izuku a playful pat on the back. "I'll text you my address. Be there at
seven, 'kay?"
Maybe a distraction will be good.
[x]
The sleepover passes in a flash, with plenty of junk food, B-list movies, and copious amounts of
awful jokes, mostly from Togata, though Hado cracks more than a few puns. Hado also absolutely
destroys the three boys at the fighting game she brought along with her gaming console, which
causes more than a few petty squabbles which devolve into a pillow fight for the ages. A pillow
fight which Izuku definitely could've won if someone didn't use their phasing Quirk. But in the end,
it's nice to be distracted and not think of the bigger picture.
After that night, the weekend passes calmly. Izuku packs his bags for the summer training camp
and texts all of his friends a lot. Then, Monday morning comes.
"Izuku, get up! You don't want to be late!" The sound of a wooden spoon hitting a metal pan wakes
the boy up, and he quickly kicks off his covers and throws on a shirt and a pair of shorts. He
checks his clock and sees that there's plenty of time to get ready.
"I'm up, Mom!" he calls back, flinging open the door and moving down the hall. "Do you need
help with breakfast?"
"No thank you, sweetie," his mom says as he enters the kitchen. The woman is already setting the
table with two plates of food, steaming hot with cups of iced water to go with. "I got up early this
morning to make sure you were ready."
"You didn't have to," Izuku says, sitting down and picking up a pair of chopsticks.
"But I did." His mother smiles. "Now, tell me about this training camp again. I want to know more
about it if my boy is going to be gone for two weeks!"
"It's technically two camps," Izuku informs, mouth half-full. "Aizawa said I could go with both the
third and second years so I said I would."
"I'm sure you'll have lots of fun," his mother says, poking her breakfast. "Just be careful. That
pamphlet said something about intensive training, but I don't want you to overdo it. I nearly had a
heart attack after hearing about your final."
Izuku hums, mouth full. He chews then swallows. "The teachers and Recovery Girl will all be
there, so I'll be fine. I just hope I can make some good progress with my Quirk."
"You will, I'm sure of it."
Breakfast ends soon after, and the two of them quickly wash the dishes before splitting off to
complete their morning routines. Izuku throws on his uniform, sans the blazar, and triple-checks
his bags. Everything is in place.
After one last hug, Izuku walks out of the door, only to turn around and open it again after realizing
that he forgot his phone. "Mom," he says, passing through the doorway and looking over the living
room. "Do you know where—oh, there it is!" He reaches out one hand and, deciding that there's no
harm in a little bit of fun, points his index finger at the device, which rests on the coffee table.
Blackwhip heeds his call, and a single strand extends from his finger and wraps around his phone.
Izuku can feel One for All, or maybe just Blackwhip itself, pulse beneath his skin, wanting to be let
out more. He pushes it down and tucks his phone in his pocket.
"Sorry, Mom," Izuku says, not really expecting an answer. "I found it." He backs away but freezes
when he sees his mother, standing on the opposite side of the living room. She's about to cry.
"Is… is that?" She covers her mouth with her hand. "Is that the part that comes from me?" she
asks. It's very obvious that she's fighting back the tears as hard as she can.
"I… it's what the principal says." Izuku avoids his mother's eyes, guilty. He feels dirty, knowing
that she's moved to cry by a lie.
"Oh, Izuku!" She rushes forward, wrapping her son up in a bear cub. "I'm so proud of you!"
Izuku smiles, eyes moist. He doesn't know if it's because he's lying to his mother or because she
started crying herself. "I know, Mom. I know."
Izuku makes it to U.A on time, barely stopping to greet the familiar group of people on the train
ride over. He walks through the gates and swiftly makes for classroom 1-A. When he enters,
Aizawa is already there, nearly folding his yellow sleeping bag.
"Good morning, sir."
"The bus is just outside the open door down the hall," Aizawa says back in lieu of a greeting.
"Class 3-B has fewer people, so pick that one. I'll be right behind you."
Nodding, Izuku turns and walks out of the room and down the hallway. True to Aizawa's word,
there's a propped open door halfway to the end of the corridor. Izuku steps out of the building and
onto the concrete of one of U.A's many courtyards.
Noise greets him, lots of it. Third years are lined up in front of a pair of buses, separated by a raised
divider. All of Izuku's upperclassmen seem at home with their respective side, goofing off with
their class and tossing out playful insults to their opposites.
The third years are all big, too. Well, most of them are, and the few that aren't are very clearly
heavily muscled or well-toned, something that makes Izuku a touch insecure. He brushes away that
feeling easily enough. They're all eighteen; he's still fifteen. He'll catch up.
Quickly figuring out which bus has the smallest group of students beside it, Izuku moves to the bus
furthest from him. He quietly stands at the rear end of the bus, unnoticed by the many older heroes
in training. But it doesn't last for long.
"Hey, are you that one freshmen?" Izuku looks up and then even more up at an absolutely massive
boy with deep purple skin and pure black eyes. His face is a bit odd, with a large underbite and a
flat nose.
"Uh, y-yeah," Izuku says. "N-nice to meet you."
The purple boy smiles as best he can with his weird jaw. "Oi, everyone, this guy over here is the
freshman!" Izuku flinches at how loud the boy yells, the volume impossible for a normal human to
make.
Everything goes quiet for a moment, everyone seeming to collectively hold their breath. Then,
yelling.
"Yooo, the dude that dominated the festival?!"
"His hair is sooo fluffy!"
"I wanna fight him!"
"No way, me first!"
"No fair, he's in 1-A! He should be over here with us!"
"You snooze, you lose, Class A! We get first dibs!"
"Nuh uh, A Class solidarity!"
"That's a load of crap! He picked us!"
"So he needs a little correction. We'll still take the little guy!"
"Not if I have anything to say about it!"
"You wanna arm wrestle for him?!"
"Hell yeah, get over here! I'll take all of you losers on!"
"That's enough!" Aizawa's voice cuts through the shouts, helped along with the flaring of his
Quirk. "You can fight over my student when we get to camp. For now, get on the bus and try not to
fool around too much. You're in your third year. Set a good example."
The two classes roll their eyes in uncanny unison but do as the man says. Izuku follows the tall
purple boy onto the bus and takes a seat on the back bench. Once he sits down, he notices
something.
No one but him is wearing a U.A uniform.
Uniforms weren't required according to the information pamphlet, but they were encouraged in
case the buses stopped somewhere and some people got lost. Everyone could find their way back
to someone they knew, then, and hopefully it would save a headache or two.
But the third years don't seem to care. Most are in loose but well-fitting clothes. Sweatpants and
leggings make up the majority of bottoms, and everyone has a different top on.
"Why is no one in uniform?" Izuku asks the upperclassmen to his left.
The purple boy from earlier, who's to Izuku's right, laughs, and the person Izuku asked also cracks
a smile. "You'll see, Freshman," they say, crossing their arms over their black tank top. "You'll
see."
The teachers and driver load up soon after that, and with one last chaotic roll call, they pull away
from the curb.
The drive is loud and hectic, with the occasional reprimand from the class rep, a stout girl with no
obvious mutations, and the constant reminders from Aizawa and 3-B's homeroom teacher to stay
calm. Izuku switches between looking at his phone and out the window along with chatting with
the third years, who are all very nice and love to tease each other but enjoy teasing Izuku even
more.
About an hour into the trip, the bus pulls over to a small cliff overlooking a lower section of
forested land. Everyone gets off and takes turns using the bathroom, which is just a line of cinder
block stalls. But no one gets back on the bus.
Izuku looks around the area before walking over to the edge of the cliff. There's a railing blocking
anyone from reaching past the point where the edge of the cliff is, but it's missing a section. Izuku
studies that part of the ground closely. The earth there is loose, much more so than the packed dirt
everywhere else.
"Alright, everyone crowd around!" a teacher orders from a few feet behind Izuku. The mob of
fortyish hero students moves to stand in front of the teacher, backs to the edge of the cliff. Izuku
copies them.
"You know the drill," the teacher continues. "Same rules, same time limit. Don't haze the freshman
too much or there'll be hell to pay from Eraser." There's a chuckle at that last line, and Izuku only
has a small moment to be confused before another voice speaks.
"Hey there, fellas," a sultry-sounding woman calls. Izuku looks over to see a new figure, clad in a
baby blue skirt and jacket. "Do you remember little ole' Pixie Bob?"
"Hey there!"
"Been awhile. How's the agency?"
"Had any dates this year?"
The third years all greet the hero like it's completely ordinary, but Izuku has to fight to keep himself
from gushing because holy shit she's a member of the Pussy Cats!
"Are you flirting with the trainees again?" a chiding voice says from behind Izuku. The boy turns
to see yet another member of the mountain rescue team. Dressed in yellow and smiling cheerfully
is Ragdoll. Izuku begins to mumble because her Search Quirk is just so cool .
"They're all eighteen or older, it's fair game," Pixie Bob defends herself, rolling her shoulders and
stretching an arm behind her head. "Besides, summer is the time of excitement!"
Ragdoll shakes her head with a smile and locks eyes with Izuku, who's still in mid-mutter session.
"Don't mind her," she says, walking over to join her teammate. "She's at that marital age. You
know how some women are."
That makes sense on the surface level, but is it really realistic? If Pixie Bob should be flirting with
anyone, it should be a person her age. The only one Izuku knows that's a few years apart from her
is Aizawa, and—
It takes him two seconds to realize that A) he said that out loud and B) everyone is now silent.
Izuku instantly goes red and starts to apologize but stops short once he sees that the third years are
all fighting back laughter. But whether they're laughing at Izuku is impossible to tell. The green-
haired boy looks over to the teachers for help, but he freezes when he sees Aizawa.
The man looks absolutely betrayed and horrified for just the barest of moments, but quickly
switches to anger. He looks like he wants to strangle someone, Izuku thinks. And he's pretty sure
it's him.
"Hmm, you're not half bad. Have a shave and shower and you could take me out sometime.
Whaddya say?" Pixie Bob shoots over to Mr. Aizawa faster than humanly possible, giving the man
a playful poke.
"No."
"Awe, c'mon, don't play hard to get." She grins cattily. "Y'know, you're pretty good with kids..."
"Just do what we paid you for," Aizawa sighs tiredly. Pixie Bob only shrugs, mouthing over to
Ragdoll that she'll try again later.
"Alright, kittens. Are you ready!?" the blue heroine yells, raising her hands over her head. All of
the third years call back some form of 'Yes.' Pixie Bob smiles. "Puuurr-fect. Remember to land on
your feet!"
Izuku barely has any time to register that the third years are throwing themselves off the side of the
cliff before Pixie Bob slams her hands into the ground. Then the earth moves, and Izuku goes with
it, unable to keep upright in the tsunami of dirt.
It's only by a miracle that he grabs hold of a piece of the railing, but he does. Panting heavily, Izuku
tries to haul himself up. A shadow clouds his vision. He spits a hunk of dirt from his mouth and
looks up.
"H-hello, Mr. Aizawa," Izuku greets, smiling nervously. The man's expression does not look good.
"Please help?"
"The forest is full of monsters. We've done the paperwork so you can use your Quirk as much as
you want. Try to be mindful of other lifeforms, though."
"No, sir, please!"
"You brought this on yourself, Problem Child." Aizawa rests a boot on the rail, centimeters from
Izuku's hand. He moves it and begins to twist. His face screws up in a manic grin with eyes
glimmering with satisfaction. "Plus Ultra." By the crushing force of Aizawa's boot, Izuku is forced
to let go and falls all the way down.
He hits the ground, rolling with Full Cowling at five percent to absorb the impact. He pops back
up, finding his footing on the soft, green grass. All around him, the forest is in chaos. Whoops and
shouts of glee mesh with supermove names and the roaring of something big-sounding. Izuku
carefully scans his surroundings, fist raised and legs primed to jump.
Out of nowhere, a twenty foot tall beast crashes through a line of trees, roaring loud enough to
make his ears ring. It lowers its horned head and paws at the ground a bit, pointed right at Izuku.
The boy holds his ground, waiting for the monster to make the first move. Then, it charges.
Izuku breathes evenly, keeping a firm lid on his fight or flight instincts like Aizawa taught him.
The monster, which has parts of it falling off like dirt, draws closer and closer. When Izuku is
seconds away from being impaled, he leaps high into the air and shoots back down with a burst
from Float. He spins, pointed feetfirst, and slams into the back half of the monster, crippling it.
Now missing the back half of its body, the beast crumbles into dust. Izuku lands on the ground,
skidding to a halt, heart beating swiftly. He admires the earthen remains of the beast for a short
while before looking in the direction of where all the third years went. He expects to see a bunch of
teenagers ripping through monsters of their own. Instead, he sees five more earth monsters, all
looking right at him. His upperclassmen are nowhere to be found.
Izuku takes a deep breath and prepares for another fight. It's going to be a long day.
[x]
Izuku crawls into a clearing, literally crawls, as in dragging his stomach along the ground as his
shaky arms claw at the dirt. He's bruised and battered, with splotches of purple and blue dotting his
face and neck with the odd scabbed over cut. He's missing both his button-down and the white
undershirt, and his pants are torn in multiple places.
The sun's going down, and he continues to crawl, the only indicator of where to go the soft light of
what must be civilization. He gets maybe fifty feet away from the nearest building before he gets
too tired to crawl and flips over onto his back, exhausted.
He hears footsteps approaching, but he can only close his eyes. Izuku lost track of how long he was
fighting, but it was definitely multiple hours. Maybe six? The monsters just wouldn't stop coming.
"Oh, yeesh, we probably should've waited up for him," an unfamiliar voice says as the footsteps
slow to a halt. "He looks half dead."
"Nah, he'll be fine," another voice says, obviously sarcastic. "Just give him a breather and a protein
shake, and he'll be back up and ready to go."
"Really?"
"Hell no, you idiot! Just look at him!" There's a rustling of clothes, and Izuku feels a hand wrap
around his arm. "The little guy needs a five course meal and twenty-hour power nap. Help me haul
the freshman back to base, god knows Eraser isn't gonna be happy about this."
The rest of the night passes in a blur for Izuku. He's carried back to a mess hall of sorts and put in
front of a massive bowl of rice and meat. He's too tired to eat it all, so someone makes someone
else spoon feed him. He'd feel embarrassed if he had enough energy to. After dinner, he's
frogmarched across a dirt clearing to a line of tents. A bedroll is laid out, along with a couple of
blankets and a pillow.
Gently, he's laid down on the roll with the blankets haphazardly tossed on. The last thing he
remembers before he drifts off for good is the pitying look of Eraserhead.
"Sleep in tomorrow, kid," the man says. "We want you good to go for training."
Chapter End Notes

Ah, good old sentient One for All. It's one of my favorite tropes in the fandom, and I
feel like it's almost cannon for similar reasons that Izuku lists early in the chapter.
The next one should be pretty Big Three heavy, and after it the Licensing Exam will
be, like, one chapter. Then my own arc which should be a couple chapters. See you in
the next one. Cheers!
Oh, one last thing. The idea for the Inko and Izuku scene involving Blackwhip wasn't
mine. The user TheRazzMatazz commented about that and I decided to put it in
because it was so nice. Razz, if you see this, thanks!
Break You Down, Build You Up pt. 2
Chapter Notes
Sunlight pokes through the crack of a green tent, a line of white light moving across a tangle of
blankets and two yellow duffle bags before hitting a freckled face. In the distance, violent
explosions, cheers of joy, curses of frustration, and the occasional crash of water on something
solid echo through the air.
Izuku, still halfway between sleep and consciousness, cracks open an eye, wincing at the crust that
formed. Groaning, he covers his face with an arm and groans louder because his entire body feels
sore.
It takes a while for everything to come back, but it does eventually. Realizing that he has to get up
and train, Izuku rubs his eyes and props himself up with both arms. His stomach feels like it's on
fire, and even if he's yet to move his legs, he knows they feel like jelly. He feels perfectly alert,
though, so that's a plus.
Izuku untangles himself from the blankets, scrunching up his nose when he notices that they stink
of sweat. Clearly, he hadn't showered the previous night. Or had a change of clothes, judging by the
fact that he's left in nothing but the tattered remains of his uniform bottoms and his red high tops.
Standing up, he sways a bit and has to remind himself that he can't touch the walls because they're
canvas. He does his usual stretches and then some, starting with his neck and working down to his
calves and ankles. Then, he peels off his gaudy clothes and changes into something more
presentable.
Exiting the tent in a pair of black shorts and a green tank top, Izuku looks around. Rows and rows
of tents are aligned, with a medium-sized building to the east labeled showers and another, larger,
pavilion to the west. Izuku goes to the showers first, using the bathroom around back before
making for the pavilion.
He makes it to the structure, having to limp a bit, but it's nothing he can't manage. Looking around,
he finds the remnants of a breakfast strewn across the table. Izuku's stomach rumbles. He should
probably eat, but where's the food? There are only plates on the tables, with no sign of actual
foodstuffs.
A massive bang shakes him from his thoughts, and Izuku quickly looks up. In the opposite
direction of the tents, there's a large, grassy field. Or maybe it was once grassy. It's hard to tell
because it's being absolutely torn up by what must be the third years.
They're all fighting each other, not caring for their surroundings or even if they run into another
fight. It's hard to tell who's attacking who sometimes, but after a few moments, Izuku hears a sharp
whistle, and everyone stops. Then they change partners and start fighting again.
"Impressive, aren't they?" Izuku turns around to see Aizawa, who's materialized out of nowhere
with a cup of coffee and a massive plate of eggs and bacon. He holds the plate out to Izuku. "The
food's for you. Take your time and come find me when you're done. I'll be with the old lady, and
she'll clear you for practice."
"Thank you, sir," Izuku says, taking the plate of breakfast. "Er, is Recovery Girl here?" he asks,
wanting to make sure.
Aizawa grunts. "We wouldn't not take her unless there was a really good reason for us to leave her
behind. Most of the facility is here, actually, watching them and giving pointers." He points to the
third years. "You won't be doing that today, but if you make enough progress I might let you at the
end of the week. Get to eating."
Izuku scarfs down his breakfast, only partly distracted by the fighting third years and all the noise
they make. Once he's done, he takes his plate to a large basin and leaves it there before carefully
stepping out to the field.
He walks around all the violence, scanning everything in sight for Aizawa and Recovery Girl. He
doesn't see them, but he does get an eyeful of rather ridiculous spars and maneuvers. The third
years appear to either not be taking the training seriously or the lot of them are simply unorthodox
fighters. Izuku then watches as a petite-looking girl suplexes a boy who easily has half a meter on
her and proceeds to tickle him and decides that it is probably the former.
Among the students in attendance is the U.A faculty. Like Aizawa had said, most of them are here,
supervising fights and giving out pointers every now and then. Present Mic in the center of
everything, holding a stopwatch and a whistle. Midnight is perched on an old log, filing her nails as
she holds a conversation with two boys locked in an even fight. Vlad King instructs a girl with
frizzy blue hair on how to properly put someone in a chokehold.
After a couple moments of wandering, Izuku spots Aizawa, who's watching two students wrestle
and flickering his Quirk on and off. To the man's left is Recovery Girl, dressed down from usual in
khakis and a light blue sweater over a simple white tee.
Izuku rushes over, gaining the attention of the two adults. Aizawa looks at him with Erasure
activated for a split second, and the boy feels his stomach churn at the lack of a familiar presence.
Nonetheless, he weaves around the two wrestlers and stands by Aizawa.
"You said to come find you when I was done," Izuku says, half watching the third years and half
looking at Aizawa. "Here I am."
Instead of responding to him, Aizawa looks to Recovery Girl. "Is he good to go?"
The woman walks over and eyes Izuku critically. She moves closer and pecks the boy on the check
for a split second. Instantly, Izuku feels tired again but also much less sore. "He'll be alright so long
as he gets a good night's rest and enough food." Recovery Girl informs Aizawa. "Try to make sure
I don't have to see him again today. And you, young man." She looks at Izuku sternly. "No broken
anything. Stay within your safe zone. Understand?"
"Yes, ma'am!" Izuku says, dipping his head. The healer huffs and walks off, looking for someone
in need of a kiss.
"Did anyone tell you what you'd be working on here?" Aizawa asks, glancing at Izuku before
scanning the field for something or someone.
"Um, no, sir," Izuku says, a little embarrassed. "Nedzu only said it was intensive training and
nothing more."
"Of course he did," Aizawa mutters, peeved. "Anyway, it's not that complicated. There's three ways
we usually run these camps. That way"—he gestures to the third years, who are still sparring
vigorously—"is all combat. We have them fight with as little rules as possible and with as many
people as possible to get them used to as many kinds of fights as we can. The second way is called
Quirk building. You know that our abilities are physical, right?"
"Yeah, they're just like muscles," Izuku says, echoing a common bit of knowledge. "The more we
work them, the stronger they grow."
"Exactly," Aizawa says, nodding in approval. "In the second type, we have you work your Quirk as
hard as you can all day, forcing it to grow. The final way is called precision training. You can
guess what that means."
"What type of training will I be doing?" Izuku asks.
"Quirk building," Aizawa says, raising his hands to cup them around his mouth. "Pixie Bob! Get
over here!" he shouts.
"But I can't build up my Quirk," Izuku points out. "Doing that would mean using it at one hundred
percent, which I can't do without breaking my body."
"I'm glad you understand that that's a bad thing," Aizawa says dryly. "But I've taken that into
account. Instead of strengthening your Quirk, you'll be strengthening your body."
"Like with weights?" Izuku asks, watching as Pixie Bob draws closer, a sly smirk on her face.
"No," Aizawa says, leaving it at that as the blue Pussycat comes within speaking range.
"My, my, Eraser. Miss me already?" The woman's voice is flirty, but Aizawa ignores it.
"Make a pit for the kid," he says, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. "Ten meters deep, ten in
diameter."
"Only if you go on a date with me!" Pixie Bob sing-songs. Aizawa gives her a flat stare in return.
"Kidding, I'm kidding." She laughs, stepping past him and bending down a little more than
necessary to put her gloved hands on ten ground. In moments, a pit to the rough dimensions
Aizawa ordered opens up on the ground.
"Come to me if you need anything," the heroine says, grinning at Aizawa and making the 'call me'
gesture. "Or even if you want something. Bye-bye!" She leaves with one last wink and a blown
kiss. Aizawa's expression only sours.
"Why is it always the loud ones?" he says to himself.
"U-uh, sir?" Izuku asks tentatively.
Aizawa's gaze snaps to him. "Get in the hole."
Izuku does as the man says, jumping into the pit and slowing his fall with Float. After landing, he
looks up to see Aizawa standing over the edge.
"Your Quirk puts a lot of physical strain on your body," the man says. It's not a question in the
slightest. "Let out as much power as you safely can, including your whips. And try to push past
fourteen percent. It's been a while since you've gotten to that level."
Izuku nods, reaching out and grabbing One for All. Immediately, his skin lights up, and the
familiar warmth of the power surges through him. "Full Cowling," he mutters to himself, putting
his foot on the metaphorical gas pedal. He starts to gradually ramp up the output, pushing past
fourteen percent cautiously. "T-twenty percent!" he stutters.
"Is that your limit?" Aizawa asks, pulling a jelly packet out of nowhere.
"I-If I go higher than this, I feel like my bones will give out!" Izuku calls back, starting to shake a
bit.
"Back off a percent or two if you feel uncomfortable," Aizawa coaches. "But either way, you'll
need to summon those whips of yours. Let them loose, but try to keep them from doing so much
damage to the pit. I don't want to deal with that woman again today."
"Yes, sir!" Izuku says, backing off just a little to around eighteen or eighteen and a half percent.
Then, carefully because he's yet to let Blackwhip out at full power since the first night of training
it, he gets mad. Doing so is both easier and harder than one would think. There's plenty of things
that Izuku doesn't like and even more that gets under his skin. It's just getting the right kind of
anger and controlling it that's hard.
For Izuku, the right kind of anger that activates Blackwhip is a mixture of self-loathing and the
frustration he feels from unfairness. So he thinks back to all the teasing and awful things he went
through when he was Quirkless, and the white-hot rage he felt from not getting a fair shot on the
final. It works like a charm.
Tendrils, inky black and therefore out of his control, explode from his torso and arms and impale
the earthen walls around him. They feed off of his anger, contorting and tangling as they lash out
and destroy. Deep within himself, Izuku feels impulses that aren't his own. Cut loose, it seems to
whisper. Let it all out and tear this place to shreds!
Izuku bites his lip and fights back against the Quirk's feelings. Around him, the tentacles start to
writhe, scratching at the walls and ground. Pressure builds, and so does the will of the Quirk. Izuku
can tell that it wants to pull out all of the stops and release the true power of One for All, but he
can't let that happen. If not to save his body, then to protect the others around him.
He force-stops One for All, cutting the bridge between it and his body. Immediately, Izuku slumps
over, a large chunk of his energy spent and mentally exhausted from focusing.
"Why'd you stop?" Aizawa asks, though by the way he sounds one would guess he already knows
the answer.
"I could feel myself losing control," Izuku pants, straining up and resting his hands on the back of
his head. His shirt is in tatters, which is a whole other thing he'll have to deal with when he gets
back to U.A. Really, did the Quirk have to destroy clothing? Surely it could understand that heroes
needed to have good clothes.
"Don't worry about that," Aizawa says. "I'm here to make sure nothing bad happens. If the strain
gets to be too much, then you can stop. But don't worry about losing control. We'll worry about
that later."
"Yes, sir."
Izuku trains for the rest of the day, stopping once for lunch. He mostly focuses on keeping the
power level at a safe eighteen perfect and lets Blackwhip do its own thing. The pit never has to be
rebuilt, but it is a bit deeper and much more unstable-looking by the time he's done. Aizawa only
has to use his Quirk once, when Blackwhip decides to attempt to claw its way out, which is
horrifying on a whole other level.
At the end of the day, Izuku floats out of the pit and slumps to the ground, tired. It's a good tired,
though; the screaming of his muscles can only mean improvement. Or maybe it means a long
week. That option seems pretty likely.
Off to the side, Aizawa watches as his student gets to his feet, slurping a jelly pouch. "You're Quirk
is alive," he says, monotone.
"I… yeah," Izuku admits. If anything, Nedzu had probably told the man, and Aizawa had the right
to know, being his teacher and all.
"Has that always been apparent?" Aizawa asks.
"Not really," Izuku says, working a crick that has worked its way into his shoulder. "Looking back,
I guess that I've always had a feeling in the back of my mind that wasn't my own. But I never
noticed it because I always felt the same way when I used my Quirk."
"What kind of feeling?"
"Freedom," Izuku answers, more than a little wistful. "The joy of being able to do anything, and the
novelty of having a superpower so amazing. It just mixed with how the Quirk feels, which is pretty
similar."
"But you're not in complete control," Aizawa adds. "Why?"
"I'm… not sure. This is all new," Izuku sighs, a little frustrated at the fact. "It just… fights against
me. Sometimes it's subtle, and other times it acts like I've caged it."
"Interesting," Aizawa murmurs. "You're actually not the first student I've had with a sentient
ability."
Izuku looks over to his teacher. "Really?"
The man nods. "My second year of teaching I had this girl with a snake companion. They were
bound to each other and had a telepathic communication method. But they didn't get along at all."
Izuku blinks. "But then how did she get into UA?"
"They were bound to each other, but the girl was definitely in control of the relationship." Aizawa
grimaces. "She could force the snake to do her bidding, and she used it to pass the exam. The girl
had a good reason for it, but the snake apparently didn't agree with her being a hero. Her dream
seemed to mean nothing to her Quirk."
"Did she fix it?" Izuku asks. Aizawa nods. "How?"
"She asked it what it wanted," he answers.
"What?"
"People are such irrational creatures. They hold petty grudges and do stupid things to fix or deal
with their interpersonal issues." Aizawa locks eyes with Izuku. "They forget that just sitting down
and having a conversation is often the easiest way to work through things. My old student had a
long talk with her snake, and when it was all said and done, they understood each other.
"The girl wanted to help people and make sure that villains couldn't hurt her home city. The snake
only wanted her to be safe. A compromise was made. I don't know the exact details, but the girl
graduated top of her class, and the snake couldn't've been happier."
"Oh…" Izuku suddenly feels very small. Had he..? "Thank you, Mr. Aizawa," he mumbles, mind
already racing.
The man snorts. "Don't thank me yet, kid. Work out things between you and your Quirk, first."
That night after dinner, Izuku meditates in his tent. Like before, he reaches out and opens himself
up to One for All. The Quirk fills his body and mind, and Izuku feels it out, letting it do the same in
return. It's difficult, having a conversation without any words, but he keeps at it. Instead of trying to
rush out like before, One for All seems to be distracted by their conversation, which is a good
thing. Izuku doesn't want to blow his tent away.
Gradually, and over the course of hours, Izuku prods deeper into One for All. What he feels is
nothing like the dreamscape he met Five and Seven in. Instead of being physical and clear-cut,
everything is soupy and mist-like. Threads and strands of black interlace with energy, and
everything pulses in a perfect rhythm, projecting sensations and emotions.
In the early hours of the morning, on an empty stomach and no sleep, Izuku finally understands.
[x]
Aizawa watches as the sun rises on the second day of camp, enjoying a freshly-brewed cup of
coffee. Behind him sit his co-workers, all in different levels of alertness and holding matching cups
of coffee. It's easy to forget that for all the work the students put in, the teachers put in more
scheduling to make sure they didn't burn out or die.
A couple of minutes pass, and the mess hall fills up with hero students who eat and talk way too
loudly for how early it is. Aizawa spots Midoriya, who's squished between a few of the more
outgoing seniors and looks like he's just rolled out of bed. Aizawa sighs. Hopefully the kid hadn't
applied his usual work ethic to the tips he was given yesterday. But Aizawa knows who he's
kidding. There's no way Midoriya hadn't stayed up all night trying to have a conversation with a
barely alive superpower.
Breakfast ends quickly, and the students pair themselves off. Hizashi grabs his whistle and a
magazine before heading to his usual spot. Vlad King and Midnight separate some of the more
destructive pairs, saving a couple square miles of forest. Recovery Girl double-checks her first-aid
kit before setting up shop at a clean table. And finally, Midoriya makes his way over to Aizawa.
"Same thing as yesterday?" the boy asks. His posture and tone aren't like yesterday, where he was
all timid and unsure. This morning, his shoulders are square, and his chin is pushed out just a bit.
His eyes gleam in the way Aizawa likes to see, too.
"Yes," Aizawa answers. "The pit is still there. You can start whenever you're ready." He gestures in
the vague direction of the hole Pixie Bob dug the previous day. "I'll be right behind you."
The boy nods and runs off, Aizawa lagging behind. Midoriya is obviously ill-rested; the bags
under his eyes denote that. But there's no real way to force him to sleep, so Aizawa will have to
settle for keeping a close eye on him and hoping he doesn't pass out.
Aizawa reaches the pit, cup of coffee still half full. There's a crumpled shirt on the ground by the
edge of the hole, and Midoriya is already down in it, stretching and warming up his muscles.
Unsurprisingly, the boy is ridiculously well-muscled, especially for his age. Aizawa remembers his
first year, and how it took him months to get even half as strong as Midoriya is right now. The boy
is either really dedicated to his physique or extremely lucky in terms of genetics. Or it's just another
benefit of his Quirk, that being the simplest answer.
"You can start whenever," Aizawa says, looking down. Midoriya looks up and nods, tensing and
untensing his leg muscles. He closes his eyes, and his expression screws up into something
vaguely negative. His skin starts to glow, patterned with red lines, and his face contorts even more
into something definitely angry.
With a pained grunt, the black tendrils erupt from his skin and attack everything in sight. But it's
different from yesterday. The tentacles are still inky black and formless, but they have a glow to
them now instead of being a glossy black like before. Midoriya himself seems much more
comfortable, standing tall and breathing evenly when the day previous he was holding on for dear
life and forcing himself to keep still.
Something has changed. That much is obvious.
Midoriya practices for the rest of the morning, and Aizawa never has to stop him. There's a close
call or two, but Midoriya regains control with a flurry of uncharacteristic curses and fury. The
whips themselves mostly stay the same shiny black, but occasionally they gain a definite form,
becoming straight lines instead of a misshapen mess.
When Midoriya finally pulls himself out of the pit for a lunch break, his smile is tired but satisfied.
"I think we understand each other now," he says. "It's slow going, but hopefully I won't have to
worry about losing control." Aizawa only nods.
The rest of training camp one passes quickly. Midoriya makes steady growth with his Quirk, and
on the final day he doesn't lose control once. In the early morning after the last day, the third years
pack up and leave for home. They all say goodbye to Midoriya with promises to see him soon.
Aizawa begrudgingly admits to himself that it's touching. Not that he'd ever say it out loud.
[x]
Izuku wakes up early the day the second years are due to arrive. He didn't plan on it, but truthfully
he knew that there was no way he would have slept when he went to bed the night before. There's
just a feeling of giddy excitement that permeates through his sore muscles and the tired haze of the
early morning, and Izuku happily walks out of his tent and over to the pavilion.
It's a little awkward having to eat breakfast with his teachers, but Present Mic and Midnight are
easy enough to talk to, and the quiet presence of Eraserhead is the opposite of uncomfortable.
At about twelve, Izuku starts working on various chores with the teachers. Forty-one tents are
washed and dried before being remade. The kitchen is cleaned. Luggage containing the second
years' belongings are laid out in a neat row. Izuku even helps Pixie Bob flatten out the mounds and
fill in the craters in the field left by the third years. Only after she gets back from throwing the
second years off a cliff, though, which is a funny thing to think about when it's not happening to
him.
Izuku also helps make lunch. Technically, the students are supposed to make their own food, but
Izuku is a student and also kinda sorta intruding on the training camp. It's only polite that he helps
out, right? Or at least that's the excuse he gives to Aizawa when the man asks why he's making a
massive amount of rice.
When he's done cooking, Izuku sits at a table and waits. Pixie Bob and the other heroes said that
the expected time of arrival is about four in the afternoon, so he ends up waiting for a fair amount
of time.
It's not until half past three that the first student walks into camp. It's no one Izuku recognizes, but
he looks absolutely exhausted and walks with a limp, so Izuku helps them to a table and makes sure
they're not severely injured.
A few more trickle in after the first, all of them alone and looking worse for wear. Izuku starts to
think that it's supposed to be that way so everyone learns that sticking together is easier and safer
all around.
Not five minutes after he thinks that up, he's proven right when Togata, Hado, and Amajiki walk
into camp without a scratch between them.
"Midoriya!" Hado calls, zooming through the air. There's a couple of branches and leaves stuck in
her hair, and part of her shoe is missing. She lands to his left and gives him a one-armed hug.
"Hey, man!" Togata follows. He's missing everything except a pair of briefs but looks no worse for
wear if you ignore how sweaty he is.
"Hi, guys!" Izuku greets, getting up from his spot to meet them halfway. Togata also goes to give
him a hug but stops short and makes a joke about sweating like a pig.
"Hello," Amajiki mumbles from just behind his friend. He spits out a leaf. He's also probably the
best-looking one of them all, with perfectly intact clothes and only slightly ruffled hair to show he'd
been in a fight. It's a little odd to see someone in long sleeves and pants in the summer heat, but no
one pays it any mind.
"How'd it go?" Izuku asks, looking them over again and then past their shoulders to see if anyone
else is just behind them. No one is, and the edge of the forest is perfectly quiet.
"Not as bad as last year," Togata starts with a smile, shivering slightly as a cool breeze blows
through the air. He rubs his arms to generate some warmth.
Hado laughs. "Yeah, last time was awful. Amajiki had to drag the both of us back to camp. You
wouldn't believe how embarrassing it was! I collapsed halfway through!"
Izuku chuckles nervously. "I think I have a pretty good idea."
"Wait, really?" Hado giggles.
"Yeah," Izuku says, red in the face. He gestures vaguely to his head. "Um, you've got a leaf right
there."
"Oh!" She reaches up and feels her blue locks for a moment. She eventually finds the leaf and
plucks it out with her fingers. "Got it! Thanks, Midoriya."
"No problem." Izuku smiles. "Do you guys want to sit down? Or maybe work on dinner? I already
made a pot of rice, but that's not really a meal, so…" He looks behind him at the pavilion.
"I think we should make dinner, first," Togata decides, already starting off.
Amajiki sighs. "Mirio. You should probably put some clothes on before you step in the kitchen."
The blond boy's face darkens half a shade. "Ah, right! That's a really good idea!"
Togata quickly finds a shirt, grabbing his duffle bag from the row of other duffle bags and pulling
out some real clothes to put on. Hado swaps out her shoes and socks, and Amajiki checks over his
bag to make sure everything is intact.
Once everyone's dressed, Izuku leads them to the kitchen, which is really just a large canopy with a
couple of counters under it and a fire pit. There's also a large gas stove hooked up to a can of
propane and powered with a small generator. It's a rough setup but definitely enough to make full
meals if one is crafty enough.
"Ooh, did someone already make something?" Hado immediately zooms over to the stove and
pulls the lid off of Izuku's rice, which is still steaming. "Mm, that'll be good with some curry. Wait,
do we have stuff to make curry? Man, it would suck if we didn't ‘cause I really want curry now."
"Um, there might be some more stuff in storage," Izuku says, walking over to check on his rice.
"But I don't think there's anything out here right now other than dried stuff, canned vegetables, and
that sack of potatoes."
Hado pouts but quickly gets over it. "We'll just have to do something with the potatoes and rice.
You two, get to peeling!" she orders, pointing at a Togata and Amajiki, the latter of which is
watching his friend attempt to balance a spoon on their nose.
The four of them get to cooking, not really knowing what to make until Amajiki suggests potato
soup, after which they begin to improvise a recipe for the meal. All sorts of things go in, mostly
vegetables and dried herbs. Eventually, more students join them and gradually take over the
cooking process, allowing Izuku and his friends to relax while others finish what they started.
"How was the first week?" Togata asks as the four of them relax under the shade of a tree. "I know
that the third years are really something, and that the training isn't a joke, but what did you do?"
Izuku sets down his glass of water and swallows the sip he just took. "Tough. Draining. But also
amazing."
"Pfft, I'm sure it was," Hado says, a humorous tint to her voice. "There's no way Mr. 'I lift weights
for three hours every morning on top of regular school work' wouldn't love training for an entire
day."
"It's only an hour and a half," Izuku corrects, which only makes Hado and Togata laugh. "But
really, I made a lot of progress. I think I might be up to twenty-three percent by the end of this
week if I try hard enough. And Blackwhip is…"
"You never did show us that weird new ability you got," Amajiki observes, playing with the ends
of his sleeves. "It sounds dangerous."
"Yeah," Hado agrees, sounding a little bit miffed. "I mean, not the dangerous part because you'd
never hurt a fly if it couldn't fight back, but, like, the way you described it, it sounded so cool. Let
us see it!"
"Um, it's not… well, it is kinda dangerous," Izuku relents, holding out a hand and gaining all three
of his friends' gazes. "But it's not as bad as I made it out to be. I didn't understand it before, but now
I do."
Carefully, Izuku coaxes One for All to the surface. Then, he feeds it just a touch of his anger,
enough to make him grimace in distaste. The Quirk immediately strains against his will, but Izuku
holds firm and very gently lets a little bit of it out. In a flash, a single, tiny strand shoots out of his
index finger and latches onto a tree branch above, disturbing a bird.
"It's unwieldy," Izuku says, a little strained. "But that's because my Quirk is alive."
"Alive?" Amajiki murmurs.
Izuku nods, still keeping a firm hand on One for All but also projecting his feelings to it. "Yeah. I
think of it like a dog. It has feelings but it can't really think. Only want, and other simple stuff like
that."
"If it's alive then why did it go psycho?" Hado asks, carefully reaching out to touch the whip. She
shivers when she does but holds on tight anyway. "Wouldn't something alive and connected to you
understand that you didn't want to destroy the room?"
"It's not that it didn't understand," Izuku says, thinking carefully about how to explain it. "The
problem was that O—my Quirk was a bit… overeager is probably the best way to put it."
"Overeager?" Togata cocks his head to the side. "That's a funny way of describing that."
"I guess." Izuku scratches the back of his neck. "But it works. My Quirk has desires. Or maybe just
a desire. It wants to move." He closes his eyes and thinks back to the feelings One for All gives off
when it’s being used. The freedom, the joy, and the borderline relief. "I think it's fine with me
using it to fly and get stronger, but then it's like a puppet, you know? I'm pulling all of the strings,
and it's just kinda forced to follow because it's my body. But with the whips…"
"It can force its control on them because they're not in your body," Amajiki finishes.
Izuku nods. "Yeah. That's my best theory, anyway. I've only had a week to think about it, and I'll
need to talk to some other people."
"Well, I think it's got merit," Hado encourages. "I mean, Wave Motion is like another muscle for
me, and I dunno about the other people in my class, but I know companion Quirks exist! Ooh, it
must be cool having a friend in your head you can talk to, right?"
"Hado, he said it's like a dog and that it can't talk." Togata laughs. "But Midoriya, I know that
Permeation isn't like your Superpower. It's like a big array of switches I flick, each one for a
different part of my body. When I was a kid, I used to accidentally flick way more switches than I
wanted to. I even fell through a bridge once!"
"That sounds scary," Izuku says, thinking back to his own fall at the beginning of the year.
"Yup! I screamed the whole way down and had to be rescued by a hero."
The conversation pauses for a moment, and then everyone turns their attention to Amajiki. The shy
boy freezes up for just the barest of seconds before relaxing and leaning a bit into Togata. "My
tentacles wiggle a bit sometimes," he says. Then, "And not when I control them. I just… let them
be, and they move around. It's only with octopus, though. Plants and other animals don't…"
"Well, octopi are really smart," Izuku offers. "They've got really complex brains and stuff,
especially when you compare them to a cow or a chicken. Maybe the intelligence of the animal
you eat has to do with it."
"If it does then I might stop eating octopus," Amajiki mumbles. "Not controlling a part of me just
sounds…"
"It's not fun," Izuku sympathizes. "But the only real way to prove the theory would be to eat other
intelligent creatures. So unless you eat a dolphin or a bit of someone, then there's no real way to
know."
Amajiki nods slightly, satisfied though a tad uncomfortable. Hado, however, looks very curious.
"Tamaki," she says, eyeing the boy and a strand of her hair. "How adventurous are you feeling
today?"
Amajiki blinks slowly. "Why?" he asks, quiet and unsure.
"Because I have an idea." Hado reaches up to her hairline and plucks out a short fiber of hair. "Eat
this."
Instantly, Izuku starts to laugh uncontrollably. He laughs so hard he latches onto his stomach and
leans on Hado for support, abs aching. He calms down a bit, but he takes another look at Hado,
who's still holding the hair out to Amajiki and looking very confused. He loses it again.
"S-sorry, g-guys," Izuku chokes out, beet-red in the face with tears starting to well up in his eyes.
"I-it's an inside j-joke!"
Togata chuckles and Hado snorts, but the girl still presses on. "C'mon," she says to the dark-haired
boy. "Eat it. I wanna know what will happen!"
Amajiki eyes the periwinkle hair with suspicion. "It might not be safe," he mumbles. "I once ate cat
hair and grew a full tail. Who knows what will happen."
"Mr. Aizawa is, like, fifty meters away at most," Hado argues. "If the worst happens, Midoriya can
run and get him."
"I can?"
"Yep. Or someone will notice and get the teachers." Hado moves her hand closer to Amajiki's lips.
"Pretty please?"
Amajiki looks to Togata, who shrugs noncommittally, though his eyes show something slightly
protective. Amajiki relents and takes the hair. He pops it onto his tongue and closes his mouth. He
swallows once, twice, three times, each one looking more and more uncomfortable than the last.
Finally, he gets it down and coughs a bit.
"That was awful."
"Yeah, I know the feeling," Izuku mumbles.
"So, how does it feel? Huh? Huh?" Hado floats off the ground slightly, leaning over to closely
inspect her friend. "Does it feel weird?"
"I need time to digest," Amajiki says, awkwardly looking down at his hands.
"How long will that take?"
"I don't know. I've never eaten hair before."

"Well can you try now?"
"Fine."
Amajiki extends an arm out and rolls up the sleeve. A moment later, and without any fanfare, a
single blue hair, perhaps ten centimeters long, grows out of his arm.
"Woah," Izuku says to himself, suddenly missing his notebook. "Can you do more?"
Amajiki nods and more hairs grow, enough to cover a square inch of his lower arm in thick blue
hair. Izuku can't help but want to take a better look and moves closer until he's on his knees and
within breathing distance of Amajiki's arm.
"That's so cool," Izuku gushes, carefully taking the arm in his hands. He gives the hair a light
brush. "It feels real! I wonder what the DNA is like. Is it yours or Hado's? Or maybe a mixture of
both? Can you move it, or is it just hair? Wait, can you make more body parts?"
He probably babbles to himself for a full two minutes, no one bothering to stop him. Eventually,
Izuku realizes that he's been talking to himself and stutters to a stop, a bit embarrassed. "Sorry,
guys. I kinda got lost in my head."
"Hey, no sweat!" Togata says, giving a happy thumbs up. "It's really cool that you can think that
fast, and a lot of what you said was really interesting!"
"T-thanks."
They'd gone through the same conversation a few times before, but Izuku still finds it hard to
believe that friends, actual people who chose to stick with him, enjoy hearing his ramblings. It's
such a simple thing yet it makes him so happy.
"Your Quirk really is cool, Amajiki," Izuku says, trying to wrap up whatever he was saying before.
"And so are Hado's and Togata's, too."
"Hey, thanks!"
"Well, duh it is!"
"Hey actually," Togada addresses Izuku, curious about something. "You wrote in that notebook of
yours about our Quirks. What did you put down?"
"Mechanics and rules, firstly," Izuku informs. "It's best to start with the basics and work up. Then I
did some basic practical applications and stuff before putting down a few ideas for new moves."
"New moves?" Hado asks, becoming even more interested.
"Yeah, new moves." Izuku instinctively feels around for his notes, but they're back in his tent. "I'd
show you, but..."
"Just tell us what's off the top of your head," Togata says. "I'm sure it'll still be good!"
"Okay, well. Hado," Izuku starts. "Can you control how tight your spirals are?"
"How tight?" the girl asks.
"Like how narrow the overall shape is and the space between layers," Izuku explains. "If you don't
know then can you try?"
"Sure," Hado says, holding out a hand and letting a stream of gold emit from her hand. She
scrunches up her nose, and the shape of the spiral changes, becoming wider before thinning out.
Then, it compresses and then dissipates.
Izuku watches with a smile. "Perfect. If you can do that well enough, you could drastically increase
the power of your attacks. The speed may be constant, but a wider and denser object will be
stronger. Also I have a few moves from my Burst Style that you might like! And even though
you're not a melee fighter, you could use the energy to propel your strikes!"
"Cool!" Hado exclaims, already toying with the newfound mechanics of her Quirk. "Do Mirio
next!"
"Oh, sure!" Izuku nods. "You should try phasing into someone completely, like we do in spars all
the time, but intentionally."
"Oh, I get it!" Togata's eyes brighten. "If I solidify while inside of someone, I could push them off
balance. That's sick!"
"Mm hmm!" Izuku beams. "Also, in tight spaces, going through walls, the floor, and the ceiling
rapidly will really throw people off!"
"Nice!"
Finally, Izuku turns to Amajiki. "You could probably grow gills if you wanted. That opens up a
whole new world of heroics for you! You'd be useful in so many more situations! Not to mention
how awesome it would be if you figured out how to fly, or even just glide with those wings of
yours. You'd be a triple threat, sea, air, and land!"
"I'd have to rework my entire respiratory system," Amajiki mumbles.
"But you might be able to do it!" Izuku cheers. "And I've been wondering, have you ever tried
manifesting something in your body? Even if it's just a small plant in your mouth, it could still be
really useful!"
Izuku rambles and rambles about the uses of his friends' Quirks. He stops eventually, and the
conversation turns much more relaxed. They eat dinner with the rest of the students eventually, and
they roast marshmallows over a fire after that. Then, they head to bed.
Hado, however, points out how beautiful the night sky looks and that you can see the milky way
along with a plethora of other celestial oddities. She argues that it would be a crime to not sleep
under the stars, and her three friends are inclined to agree.
They roll out their bedding on a soft patch of ground and fall asleep together, looking up at the
stars.
Chapter End Notes
Y'all ever accidentally write your longest chapter and don't even realize that it is your
longest chapter until your running spell check? Just me? Ok.
Anyways, I meant to get the camp done. Really, I did. I even had it all planned out.
But then the big three showed up and talked up a storm so...
Next one **will** finish the camp. I swear it. Like, there's three things that have to
happen, tops, along with a tiny bit of filler. Then the provisional license exam will
happen, and then my original arc will happen.
Sorry if you were looking forward to the stuff I've mentioned. Please, take this
chapter's rediculous amount of fluff as recompense. Cheers!
Break You Down Build You Up pt. 3
Chapter Notes
Thanks for a thousand comments! I know I've read them all multiple times, and they
really do keep me inspired to write. Enjoy!
As of April 2, 2021, this chapter has been edited and reformated by my beta, flauel.
Izuku wakes up to the strong scent of apples and a tickling sensation on his face. Wrinkling his
nose, he reaches up to scratch his cheek. Instead of touching his face, however, his hand meets
something much, much softer. Silky smooth hair parts under his fingers, and Izuku freezes. There's
only one person he knows with hair long enough to drape over someone.
Calmly, and with extreme caution, he opens his eyes and blinks away the harsh glare of the early
morning sun. Eyes now used to the light, he takes in as much of his surroundings as he can. He's on
his side, limbs splayed both in front and behind him. One of his arms is pinned under the sleeping
form of Togata, who's being clung to by Amajiki as the larger boy dozes. Strands of blue hair reach
across his body and all the way to the other side of the human pile. One of Izuku's legs is tangled
with Hado’s, and the other lays atop Amajiki's foot.
It's somewhat comfortable, he finds. Not the position—Izuku can already feel cricks forming—but
somehow he still feels a quiet kind of content.
It's all ruined when he inhales a bit too sharply. A strand of Hado's hair somehow works its way
into his nose, and there's no way for him to fight the urge to sneeze. "Ah… ah… achoo!"
It's probably the loudest sneeze ever. Or at least loud enough to cause an avalanche on some
faraway snowy mountain. Izuku forces himself up, hoping to get away from the mountain of hair.
In doing so, he disturbs everyone. Getting out from under a pile of people does that. It's probably
for the best because he's not done sneezing.
"Ughh, good morning," someone mumbles. They sound tired, and Izuku can't tell who it is over his
incessant sneezing. He quickly settles down, though, and swipes away the tears from his eyes to
get a better look at who's up.
The answer is everyone. Togata gently nudges a stubborn Amajiki, who's desperately trying to
pretend that he's still asleep, and Hado gently runs her fingers through her long, blue hair, probably
in search of knots.
"That was one heck of an alarm clock," Togata jokes, resorting to hoisting his friend up by the
armpits.
"Sorry." Izuku blushes. He could only imagine what it was like to be woken up by a fit of sneezes.
"Hado's hair got up my nose, and, well..."
"That's actually pretty funny," Hado giggles, stretching out her arms. "You didn't get any boogers
or spit in my hair, though, right? ‘Cause if you did, you're the one who's gonna wash it out, and
believe me when I say it's not fun." Her expression turns serious enough to make his stomach
churn.
"I don't think I did," Izuku says, more than a little relieved. Washing two feet of thick hair is
definitely not on his summer to-do list.
Hado nods, satisfied. "Good. Now, what time is it?"
Togata, having managed to convince Amajiki to get up for the day, reaches down by his sleeping
mat and grabs his phone. "Five fifteen. We're up a whole half hour early! Thanks, Midoriya."
"You're welcome?" Izuku says, copying Hado and stretching. He definitely didn't have a good
resting position the previous night if the pain in his neck and chest is anything to go by.
"I'm pretty hungry," Hado says, looking over to the dining pavilion which is already occupied by
the teachers and a handful of students. "Let's go get breakfast."
Their morning meal is a calm and relaxed affair. The general consensus of everyone in the
structure seems to be that it's best to enjoy the silence while it lasts. Izuku understands completely.
If the second years' training is anything like the third years' then he wants to enjoy the lack of
explosions and angry swears for as long as possible.
No one got up early enough to make actual breakfast food, but there's leftover soup and gallons of
day-old coffee being warmed by a fire and a stone, so most people decide to stick with that. Izuku
eats a lot, wanting to make sure he doesn't burn out before lunch. Hado and Togata do the same,
but Amajiki is a different story.
"If I have to do what I did last year, I don't want to start half full," the dark-haired boy says when
he catches Izuku eyeing the lack of a plate in front of him.
"Amajiki had to eat, like, a metric ton of food at the last one," Hado explains upon seeing Izuku's
confused expression. "They told him to eat as much as he could then burn through all of the stuff in
his stomach before eating again. It was really interesting to watch, actually."
"You mean it was awful," Amajiki says, shivering at the memory. "I felt like I had to throw up for
a week straight but I never did."
"But you totally improved!" Togata praises, trying to dwell on the silver lining. "By the end of the
week, you were so much more efficient with your Quirk. Before, one piece of chicken could only
make you a wing. Now you get two feet and a pair of wings from it!"
"I guess," Amajiki mumbles, looking away from the table and over to the field and the forest
beyond.
The sun rises a little bit higher in the sky as they eat, and at around 5:40, the teachers have
everyone gather around. The homeroom teachers of Class 2-A and 2-B take the lead. They're both
greying and past their prime, but Izuku knows very well how little that can mean—both Gran
Torino and Recovery Girl can be scary, after all. And on top of their experience in the real world,
the teachers are good enough for U.A to hire, something reserved only for top-notch heroes.
"Last summer, we worked on endurance and overall power," the bigger man starts. He's wearing
the bottom half of a brightly-colored hero costume and a grey tank top. A scar runs down his left
cheek, and he gives off a no-nonsense aura. "This time it'll be different."
"A hero isn't all flashy attacks and raw power," the other homeroom teacher continues. She's an
average-looking woman if you ignore her eyes, which swirl and glow a multitude of colors and
shapes. She'd gone with a full hero outfit, which for her meant a loose-fitting blue jumpsuit kitted
with lots of belts and pockets. "For the following week, you'll be working on aim. Judging how
much power to use. Finding weak points. Planning out a fight before it even happens."
"We're going to work you to the bone, you already know that," the man picks up where she left off.
"It's necessary, especially with this kind of stuff. Good heroes know their own strength intimately,
and they know how to cause minimal collateral damage."
"Are you ready?"
There's a rousing cheer and lots of ‘Plus Ultra’s which Izuku can't help but find himself joining in
on. Then, before everyone can calm down, teachers grab a handful of students each and lead them
off to a portion of the field or back into the forest. Hado and Amajiki are taken over to the edge of
the forest by Midnight, and Aizawa motions for Izuku and Togata to come to him.
"You two will be working together," the tired-looking man says.
"Awesome." Togata smiles, casually draping an arm over Izuku's shoulders. The younger boy finds
himself agreeing, and a small smile breaks across his face.
"Follow me," Aizawa says, unfazed. He leads them over to the part of the forest across from the
field, about a hundred meters away from their friends and twenty deep into the treeline. Inside of
the forest are two massive tubs and a tarp hung up a good eight meters away from them.
"Dodgeballs?" Izuku asks, picking a green one up out of the tub. They're soft, squishy, and
wouldn't hurt to be hit with unlike the other ones back at school.
"Midoriya, you will be throwing them," Aizawa explains. He gestures to the tarp, which is hanging
from a pole supported by two trees. "Togata, you will be dodging them over there."
"Got it!" Togata says, already pulling off his shirt and walking over to the tarp, which, now that
Izuku gets a closer look at it, appears to be an old happy birthday decoration.
Once Togata is ready (which means buck naked, because his one pair of special undies is in the
wash. Izuku doesn't know how to feel about it, but it's training so who cares, right?), Aizawa
carefully steps behind his student and slips on his goggles. "You may start whenever you're ready."
Izuku nods, flicking on One for All at seven percent and picking up another dodgeball in his other
hand. He cocks his arm back, eyeing Togata (taking care to look above the waist is imperative).
Then, he throws. But the ball doesn't even go ten feet.
"What..?" Izuku mumbles, the unsettling feeling of his Quirk being erased washing over him. He
turns around to see Aizawa, hair floating with his hands in his pockets.
"Not like that," he says. "With the whips."
Izuku blinks, half tempted to voice why that was a bad idea. But Aizawa wouldn't care if he did,
and has an erasure Quirk, so he turns back around and takes off his shirt. He only brought seven to
camp, and if he loses another one his mom will have a fit.
Now topless and with his Quirk back, Izuku holds a hand out over one of the bins. Anger consumes
him, straining against his mental barriers. One for All riles up, swimming beneath his skin in the
deep pool of his soul. He can feel that it wants to destroy something, and its urge to move on its
own. But Izuku can't let that happen, so he talks to it.
Let me throw these for a while, then you can go, he tells it. I'll let you free if you don't hurt anyone
or the forest.
One for All goes quiet, and Izuku struggles to maintain the anger necessary to use Blackwhip.
Then, something clicks, and it's back. Back, but more reserved this time, like someone left the keys
in the ignition and swapped from the driver's seat to the passenger's.
Izuku grins, wolfish. He's in control now, and they're both fine with it. Splaying his fingers, three
whips extend from his right hand. They latch onto a ball each, and Izuku looks forward again.
Togata is waiting patiently, ready to move at any moment. Good, Izuku thinks, One for All
echoing his statement. He can't half-ass this.
Raising his arm, Izuku makes the balls rise higher in the air. Rocking the limb back, the whips
follow. Then, he shoots his arm forward, and at the last possible second, when the balls are about
to reach the end of the length of whip, Izuku releases.
The balls fly true, the whips following his desire to hit Togata. The other boy doesn't dodge,
instead letting the projectiles phase through him. He gives a proud thumbs up. "That was great!
Let's pick up the pace!"
One for All purrs in the back of his skull. They can definitely kick it up a notch.
Extending both of his arms, six whips shoot from his fingers, three from each hand. They all pick
up two balls each. In a split second, the whips all move without his arms, and twelve dodgeballs
are launched in a volley right at Togata. Banned from sinking into the ground for the sake of the
exercise, Togata barely manages to dodge the balls, diving out of the way and letting a few pass
through. By the time he regains his footing, Izuku is already throwing more balls.
Another volley is released, then another and another. Togata dodges, using his Quirk whenever he
needs to, and Izuku tries his best to keep pushing the pace faster and faster. The tendrils of
Blackwhip obey his whims, throwing and aiming with merely a thought. But that's not the point of
the activity.
Begrudgingly, Izuku forces more of his will into the whips and starts to focus on every little
movement. It's hard, and he has to slow down to continue to throw even somewhat accurate
volleys. One for All, however, doesn't share his desire to go along with the spirit of the exercise.
The strands go matte black, losing their gloss and gleam, and pressure starts to build in Izuku's
chest.
Free. Free. Free, the Quirk demands from its user. Izuku's skin starts to grow hot, and the whips
become more stubborn, resisting his will and becoming much more sluggish to respond to him.
The pressure continues to build, screaming against his chest and ribs. Izuku has no choice but to
vent it.
He braces himself, ready for the pain and explosion of power that will inevitably come. But it
never does. Instead of letting it all out, One for All pushes six whips from the sides of his torso.
Two anchor into the ground, burrowing deep into the earth. The other four reach out for more balls
and start to throw with him.
It's a strange duality. Izuku is in control but at the same time not. He could force everything to stop
at any moment, but One for All would fight back. Neither of them wants that—it's much too tiring
and strenuous—so they're in a weird halfway limbo, trusting each other to stick to the plan for the
sake of them both.
It's exhilarating, truthfully. Adrenaline rushes through his veins, and his smile grows wider. He
starts to laugh, feeling free alongside the anger needed to power the Quirk. And the Quirk itself is
also happy, screaming out in joy despite being limited to throwing balls.
Then, it's all gone in an instant. Nothing but his own feelings fill Izuku's mind. His heart skips a
beat, and he feels so, so alone. He spins around to see Aizawa, eyes glowing red. Izuku feels a
wave of anger start to rush through him.
"We're out of balls," Aizawa says simply. And, true to his words, the tubs are empty and hundreds
of dodgeballs are scattered throughout their surroundings. Izuku blushes and starts to walk over to
the nearest one. Oops.
Ten minutes later, they're back in action, this time with another second year to help them re-gather
the balls with their telekinesis Quirk. Izuku returns to his previous state, letting One for All control
some whips while he controls a few more himself. That's his default form, allowing him to get a
feel for controlling the whips and building up trust in the Quirk. He doesn't stick to it, though. He'd
be a fool to. Instead, sometimes he seizes total control, using a couple strands emitting from his
arms to improve on fine control and multitasking. Other times he lets One for All have total
control. On those occasions, the strain on his body is great, but the speed at which balls are thrown
is almost double the normal amount.
But the thrill of working with his Quirk will never get old. It's like having a good partner in a team
battle but even better because they understand each other completely. There's no way for bad
communication to ruin the moment, and it just feels right.
They break for lunch at high noon. Togata slips on a pair of shorts but doesn't bother with a shirt.
Izuku does the same, much too sweaty to feel comfortable in a top of any kind. The two of them get
a couple of weird looks but none of them linger, and the meal passes quickly. Hado updates them
on what she and Amajiki are doing. Apparently they're having her practice her aim and how to
judge how strong of a blast to use. Amajiki is learning how hard he can hit normal people along
with fine motor control with his animal manifestations.
After lunch, Aizawa has Izuku change gears. Instead of working with Blackwhip to throw balls at
Togata, he's told to practice changing his power levels. This is usually a simple affair—Gran has
him do it regularly in specialized spars—but it's different this time. Instead of gradually working up
to his max and back down to one percent, Aizawa has another student shout random numbers out
loud as they spin around to improve their Quirk. Every seventh number is his new percent, and if
the number is above his max, he has to shut the Quirk off and on until they say a number in the
safe zone. It's utter hell on his mind, but One for All seems to like it and it's good practice.
Izuku practices until the sun starts to go down over the treetops of the forest. When the last rays
fade away, Aizawa stops him and tells him to rest before eating dinner. Too exhausted to disagree,
he walks back over to the pavilion and finds a seat next to his friends. They eat a hearty meal and,
since the sky is still clear, they sleep under the stars again.
That's how three more days pass. Wake up, train Blackwhip with Togata, eat, train percent-
jumping, eat, talk with his friends for a while, sleep. But then, on the second to last day of camp, it
changes.
"A swimming day?" someone asks. All forty-one of the students are sitting around the two
Pussycat members, their teachers scattered throughout the edges of the pavilion. It's early morning,
and everyone is already alert and ready for another grueling day of training.
"That's right!" Ragdoll exclaims, happily waving her hands about as she talks. "There's this really
cool natural waterfall a few kilometers north of here. We thought it would be a great idea for you
kittens to take the day off!"
"I thought the fun activities were for the first years only?"
"Dude, shut up! Do you want another twelve consecutive hours of hell training?"
"You're right!" Pixie Bob cuts off the conversation early. "We usually organize something nice for
the firsties and make the older kits train all week anyways. But this year, you've got a first year
here with you!"
All eyes look to Izuku, who suddenly feels very cramped in his spot between Hado and Togata. No
one says anything for a short while.
"If you want, we can go another day," Aizawa says, casually leaning against a support beam as he
applies some eye drops. "It's not that difficult to do."
"Nope, a day off sounds great!"
"There's no need for you to go to all the trouble!"
"I knew I brought my swimsuit for a reason!"
"Good.” Aizawa slips the bottle of eye drops into his utility belt. "Go have fun. It's mandatory," he
says, looking right at Izuku.
Less than an hour later, everyone is either in the water or near it. There's a waterfall like Ragdoll
said, and it's pretty big, enough for three or four people to stand under comfortably. Under the
waterfall is a pool of clear, cool water, which is pretty deep in some places but shallow enough in
others to sit in. The water in the pool drains out through another small stream, which is fast-moving
and cold. There's also a large-ish (but still tiny in a geographical sense) cliff on one side of the
pool, coincidentally right above the deepest water. It doesn't take long for someone to do the math.
"Cannonball!" a girl screeches as she falls through the air, legs tucked up to her chest and arms
wrapped firmly around them. She crashes into the water, causing a sizable splash, and resurfaces a
moment later, spitting out water for show.
More and more follow her, calling out nonsense or jokes as they fall. Some try to do dives, which
the water is deep enough for, and others attempt to do tricks. One boy does three backflips.
Another girl spins like a top the whole way down. Yet another does a belly flop and swims it off
like a champ.
"Yo, watch this!" A large boy takes a running start from the edge of the cliff and jumps. High in
the air, he starts to fall, though much more slowly than normally possible. He does a whole dance
number in the air, clearly using his Quirk, continuing to move even as he submerges.
There's laughter, lots of laughter. Then—
"Wait, can we use our Quirks?"
"I mean, the school did the paperwork so we could on this bit of land, so yeah..?"
"Sweet."
And just like that, the line for cliff diving doubles in length. People throw themselves off and do
ridiculous tricks in the air, only spurred on by the loud cheers of the other students.
Izuku watches all of this from his spot on the opposite end of the pool, smiling. His friends sit
nearby, also watching. Togata and Hado jokingly critique the dives of their classmates, imitating
the sports announcers of old and assigning scores as they see fit.
"Ooh, and here comes Eerised, getting a good running start for her third dive of the day. Will she
stick to the same routine or try something new? Judging by that hesitant leap, I'd say something
new."
"Yes, yes, good observation. Eerised tucks into a nice ball there, and now she's spinning. Will she
uncurl in time for a clean entry? Ooh, no she will not. Minus points."
"I thought it was golf with the weirdly quiet narrators," Amajiki comments. "Weren't Olympic
sports like diving a huge deal?"
"Eh, it doesn't really matter," Hado says, watching as the diver swims away from where she landed
to make room for the person behind her. "It's all for fun, who cares about historical accuracy?"
"I—" Amajiki is cut off by another boy, someone Izuku doesn't know but has seen around at lunch
before.
"Hey, Togata, you should have a go!" he says, stirring up large amounts of water as he quickly
walks over. "We wanna see what you can pull with your Quirk!" He points to the line of people on
the cliff to demonstrate his point. "Actually, all of you should come."
"Alright!" Togata says, already up and climbing out of the water.
"I'm down." Hado follows, using her Quirk to lift herself out of the pool and into the air. "Amajiki,
Midoriya, you two should definitely come."
"I'm good," Amajiki mumbles, pointedly looking away from the unfamiliar boy.
"Aw, c'mon," the boy prods. "You'd be so cool. I know you wanna have some fun!"
"N-no thanks," Amajiki says. It's clear that he wants to sound firm but his voice won't cooperate
with him.
The boy shrugs. "Suit yourself. How ‘bout you, freshmen?"
"Um..." Izuku's eyes dart back and forth between Amajiki, who looks really anxious, and then all
of the fun being had over on the cliff. He locks eyes with Togata, and the older boy seems to ask
for something silently. "I'll stay back for now," Izuku says, catching on. Both Hado and Togata
seem to relax a bit at his decision. "I'll go later. My muscles are still sore."
"Ah, I gotcha." The new boy nods. "Anyway, I hope you come up with us soon! Hado, Togata, let's
go!"
The three of them take off, cutting through or over the water over to the cliff, which apparently has
a slope on the backside of it. Izuku watches them, wanting to be distracted. It's weird being alone
with Amajiki. Not bad—the boy is really nice—but without the loud and brazen Togata or the
bubbly Hado, it just feels awkward. Eventually, though, he forces himself to break the silence.
"Afraid of heights?" Izuku asks before immediately mentally kicking himself. He's seen Amajiki
get dropped twenty feet off the ground onto solid concrete. The boy definitely isn't afraid of
heights. No more than he is of social interaction, anyways.
"I don't like people," the older boy mumbles. His hand reaches up to the crown of his head,
reflexively searching for his costume's floppy hood. He curls back into himself when he doesn't
find it.
"Um, well, I'm a people," Izuku says clumsily. He goes red in the face. "Er, a person, I mean
person. And uh, Togata's a person, and you really like him. Hado, too! She's definitely a person.
You seem to like them alright. And maybe me too?"
Amajiki makes a soft and short hum. "You're different. I've known Mirio since elementary school.
He was my first friend when we transferred. And Hado is just… Hado. She's not dishonest like
other people."
"Dishonest?" Izuku asks gently.
"They…" Amajiki pauses to think. "People make fun of me a lot. They say nice words, but I can
tell they're being mean."
"Oh…" Izuku leans back. "Do you really think that?"
"I'm just so… me,” Amajiki sighs. "Pessimistic, shy, socially awkward. How could it not be true?"
"I…" Izuku holds his tongue. He wants to get this right, wants to help, but he's not sure how.
Whatever issues Amajiki has is deeply rooted, and something simple just won't do. "Deku," he
starts. "You know what that means, right?"
"Useless person."
"Yeah, that's right." Izuku nods. "I got that nickname in first grade. I thought that the people who
used it instead of my real name were my friends. That they liked me. That it was a funny joke.
"It wasn't," he continues. The numbness he gets whenever he thinks about his life before meeting
All Might washes over his body. "I wasn't good at much when I was little. Bottom of the gym
class, bad at talking to people, useless at everything. I've told you about that, right? How I picked
my hero name."
"You made it yours," Amajiki whispers.
"Mm hmm." Izuku forces a smile. "But that's not important right now. What is is that I know what
it's like to be disliked or even hated by everyone. I… my Quirk didn't come in when I was four."
Amajiki remains silent, but it's a focused silent and his eyes never leave Izuku's face.
"It works with the strength of my body. I couldn’t even use five percent until I had a six pack of
abs." Izuku chuckles.
"You got it in middle school, didn't you," Amajiki says, grave. He knows what that means; it's
painfully obvious.
"Yeah..." Izuku trails off, remembering. "No one liked me. Not my teachers, not my classmates, not
the janitors, not the guest speakers. I only had my mom. And they weren't afraid to show it.
"They-they'd push me in the halls, rip my notes, steal my homework. Whenever I tried to help
someone, they'd spit on my shoes and make me go away. It was horrible." Izuku takes a shaky
breath. "But the worst was when they were nice to me. Someone would pretend to be my friend for
the day. A girl even acted like she liked me for a week once. And I'd fall for it, every time. And
every time I fell for it, they'd invite me somewhere and never show up. At school the next day,
they'd all laugh. I think I knew that they were lying, but I just… I wanted to believe that they liked
me, that I was good enough. But I never was."
"That sounds awful."
"It was, but…" Izuku steels himself and looks Amajiki directly in the eye. "That boy just now? The
other people up there on the cliff? Your teachers? They're not doing to you what my old school did
to me. They like you. I can tell. And yeah, maybe they might be a bit put off by your shyness or
your pessimism, but they don't hate you for it.
"They compliment you and say you're great because you are. They want to include you because
you're awesome at all sorts of stuff and really nice to be around." Izuku smiles his brightest smile.
"Amajiki, you're amazing. Togata calls you Suneater for a reason, and… If you ever think that
someone might be being mean behind your back, ask me. Come to me. I'll help you figure it out."
Amajiki says nothing. He's almost frozen, wide-eyed and breathing slowly. "S-sorry," Izuku
mumbles. "That… I was out of line, I shouldn't hav—"
"Midoriya." Izuku snaps to attention. Amajiki looks at him, unsure. Then, he smiles. It's wobbly
and a bit self-conscious, but there's a light in his eyes that makes Izuku's heart skip a beat. "Thank
you."
Izuku gets up to go diving soon after that. Amajiki follows, unsure but happy.
The rest of the camp flies by. Izuku connects more with One for All, enjoying the new symbiotic
relationship he has with the strange power. His upper limit reaches twenty percent, something that
makes him stop and think. He's almost a quarter of the way there to mastering it. The thought fills
him with a strange sort of pride. He can't help but do the mental math and figures out that, since it's
early June, and he got One for All in late December, then… then he'll be able to use one hundred
percent at the end of his second year.
He nearly faints at the revelation, the sheer magnitude of it making his head go fuzzy. He pushes
that out of the way, though, or tries to. There's no reason to assume that his growth will continue at
the same rate. He could slow off, or plateau for a couple of months. Or maybe the training needed
to reach one hundred percent wouldn't be available to him until he graduated and started hero work.
Either way, being almost a quarter of the way there is mind-boggling, and Izuku takes a full five
hours to process it.
Of course, that all pales in comparison to the bombshell Togata drops on the last day of camp.
"What do you mean we have the same birthday!?"
Chapter End Notes
I don't have much to say for this one. It was pleasent to write, and I think it turned out
great. One thing I do have to so, though, is that I'm trying to get a nice one on one
moment between Izuku and each one of the big three. I want them to feel close to each
other, but I want to make sure it makes sense that they are.
Anyways, the next is is going to be long, I think. There's a lot on my list of events, so
it might take an extra day to get out. Cheers!
Deku's New Style
Chapter Notes
Longest chapter yet lol
If Izuku is being honest—and he always tries to be—he’s completely unsure of how to explain the
situation to All Might and Gran Torino. He has theories, lots of them, and he knows what's a
definite fact, but how could he explain that One for All, which (barring the imprints and vestiges of
the past holders) is supposed to be a transferable Quirk that builds up power, is alive?
The answer is in a flurry of mumbling, vague gestures that could really mean anything, and lots of
pointing to the notebook, which is a total mess and can't be deciphered.
Gran Torino only puts up with two minutes of his nonsense before forcing a cup of strong coffee in
his hands and making him think about it for a good ten minutes. When Izuku's mind is calm and
relaxed, but also inversely caffeinated, he's allowed to speak.
"It's alive," he says, absolutely sure. "But you already knew that, right?"
Across the table (which is a slab of wood supported by cinder blocks—Gran really needs better
living conditions, but the man is just too stubborn to accept help and too lazy to buy furniture
himself), All Might nods. "You did a good job explaining it to me over text. I just needed some
time to myself to see if I could find an answer."
"Did you?" Izuku asks, hand itching for a pencil. He's not really sure what he'd write on, though.
Gran confiscated his 'notebook of gibberish' a good bit of time ago.
"I found a partial one," All Might concedes. "But I'd like to hear your findings first."
"It wants to be active and loves breaking things," Izuku begins, getting the most important
information out first. "It can't talk, and I don't think it's of human intelligence, but… Five called it a
dog, and I think that's a pretty good analogy." All Might stays silent, so Izuku continues, "It can't
control my body, but it can try to activate parts of itself—like it did at my final exam. And when I
use Blackwhip, it can manipulate the strands as well."
"I see." All Might laces his fingers. "And can you feel it? The life of One for All?"
Izuku nods. "Always. Right now, it's… well, sleeping is the best way to describe it. Dormant is
another good word. I can't passively feel it, but if I concentrate, I can definitely tell it's there. When
I actually use One for All, I can, though. It's much more prominent then."
All Might nods, bangs swaying up and down. "I think I've felt the same."
"You have?" Izuku asks quickly.
"Not to the extent you describe." All Might twiddles his thumbs, a faraway look in his eyes. "But
my mind feels much more quiet now. Like I'm missing something, or someone. At the very least, I
can tell I've only got the embers left and not the entire flame."
"Sounds like a load of undefined spiritual crap to me," Gran Torino says, breaking his silence. "It's
alive and in Midoriya now. That’s all that matters. Is it going to be a problem?"
"Not at all." Izuku smiles. "We sorta have an agreement. I get to use it as much as I want all day,
but I have to let it take the reins for at least two hours. At least, it's going along with that for now."
"Good enough for me," Gran says, hopping off of his seat. "Keep a lid on the thing and don't let it
hurt anybody. We don't need you in jail, got it?"
"Got it."
Gran takes his leave, heading out to do who knows what at who knows where. All Might, however,
remains still.
"There's more on your mind," he says. "Tell me about it."
"I think it's just Blackwhip that's alive." Izuku chews his lip thoughtfully. "Five said that it was
always kind of alive, and One for All just made it worse… or better? Stronger. Stronger is the right
word."
"That would make sense," All Might thinks out loud. "But we've no way to test or prove it. The
only way to do so would be to talk to someone who held it before the Fifth, and, well…" He trails
off, looking sullen for people he never met or knew but held a close kinship to. Izuku can relate.
"We only have information on numbers Four through Seven, anyways." All Might looks over to the
shelf containing the notebook with information on the past holders. There are more books next to it
now, mostly heavy, old tomes on Quirks and history.
Izuku hums, entranced by the spine of the book. "Oh, what the hell," All Might says, standing up
and walking over to the shelf. He effortlessly reaches it and pulls the notebook out with a single
skinny finger. Wide-eyed, Izuku watches him set it down on the table.
"Wait, really?" the boy asks, mystified.
"You could get another one at any moment." All Might shrugs. "Better safe than sorry. Have a
look."
Izuku does, starting at the front. The first entry is Seven, Nana. Her's is long, with twenty pages of
events, pictures, and statistics. By all accounts, she was a good hero. She mostly focused on rescue
and made a small name for herself with a couple daring saves. But she was also a pretty good
fighter, apprehending more than the average number of villains for the day, which was no small
feat with all the crime there was pre-All Might.
Next is Six. Izuku had known almost nothing about him, which might be by design. He was
underground, operating mostly at night and on low-profile cases. Six was a small man, about
Izuku's height, and with a lithe build. His eyes were a soft purple, and his hair was matte black.
There are only two pictures of him, the man looking sad and melancholy in both. In the first, he’s
in full hero gear, which for him was a big full body coat made of tough-looking material.
Underneath were soft-looking shoes and a pair of black pants. He was young, Izuku notes. The
man couldn't've been over twenty-nine in his last picture, which is of him in front of a statue and is
dated uncomfortably close to the day he died.
Six's Quirk is called Hide. The description, which is short because Quirk science and classification
are new-ish things, says that the user could 'disappear' and become undetectable to human senses.
Nothing else. Not even if he could move, or how long it could last. Frustrated, Izuku commits the
tiny blurb of information to memory.
Izuku glosses over Five, having everything he needs to know about Blackwhip memorized. Though
he does note that Five had a long life compared to Six, something that makes Izuku feel slightly
better.
Four is next. There's almost nothing on him, and a small sticky note on the corner of the page says
that it's likely that he was underground as well. There's also only one picture of him, low-res and
clearly blown up on some program to get a better view. The colors are all wonky, but there are a
couple things that stick out. A scar, straight and ugly and running down his left eye. Izuku wonders
how close he was to becoming blind when he got it. His eyes were light, and his hair appeared to
be blonde, or maybe even white. Even in the awful quality of the photo, Izuku gets the distinct
impression that he was angry.
Four's Quirk is listed as Hysterical Strength, but the description clearly denotes that it's a cover-up.
According to official documents, Four could detect danger to himself and grow strong enough to
survive that danger. It was a powerful ability, but a fake one as a small asterisk below says that the
name was changed when he received the strength of One for All to better explain why it looked
like he had two Quirks. Danger Sense was his birth Quirk, and the description only says that he
could detect danger. Vague and frustrating, two things that go hand in hand with the more
complicated aspects One for All.
Three's entry is blank, the only bit of information being that he was male. Two's is similar, though
their gender isn't listed. One's is almost empty, too, but there's a small blurb about the estimated
time of his birth and death, along with various theories about his family history. None have any
true value.
"Not much in there, huh?" All Might leans forward to look at his handwriting. "My old sidekick
actually did most of the research for this back before we split." His eyes become pained for just the
barest of moments. "I've only compiled it all together and double-checked some stuff online. I just
wish there was more. This is all very important for your future."
"It's alright," Izuku says, gently closing the notebook. "I at least know a little about two more
Quirks, so I'm better off than I was before. Sir Nighteye found most of this?"
All Might nods. "Yes. I was… interested in the previous generations back when I was young. Sir
also said that it could help on our hunt for All for One to know what had happened to the previous
holders. The only thing it told us was that all of them were killed by that bastard." He sounds bitter,
as though he wishes he met all of the past users. Izuku can hardly blame him. He shares the same
sentiment after all.
And then, in the back of Izuku's mind, One for All stirs, and a feeling of anger creeps through his
mind. Apparently the Quirk might've liked the past holders a good deal.
"There's no point in dwelling in the past too much. Or looking too far into the future." All Might
reaches out and rests a hand on Izuku's shoulder. One for All calms. Safe, it whispers. Friend, it
purrs. "What's important," the man continues, "is that we keep working in the moment. Together."
Izuku smiles, brushing off the feelings of his Quirk for later. "Together."
[x]
The rest of summer break is spent doing more and more training. Gran focuses on his reaction time
and helping Izuku get a better feel for the new levels of power. All Might pays more attention to
direct combat, pushing his successor to the limit of his speed to find an opening.
Of course, he doesn't spend all of break improving his skills. His mother wouldn't allow it if he
tried, and All Might is no better. So on the days he’s forced to stay away from the gym, he spends
time with friends. Most of the time, they wander around the city, though there’s a fair amount of
days spent in.
Then, there’s the inevitable dual birthday party. Hado insisted on it, though Togata dropped plenty
of hints himself. Izuku probably couldn't've refused even if he wanted to, but then again why would
he? His previous birthdays were all… lacking. Empty. Bare. Just him and his mom, really. All
Might did take him out to lunch for his fifteenth, and that was the first proper celebration he had
outside of a nice dinner at home and a small handful of gifts.
They decide to spend the day in a mall. It's convenient, big, and has plenty to do. Hado drags them
off to a photo booth first thing, and then to an arcade, and then to a few shops. Togata, Amajiki,
and Izuku follow, happy to go along. Amajiki buys a big floppy stocking cap, which promptly goes
on his head and probably won't ever come off. Togata visits a joke shop and buys all sorts of
random gadgets, mostly shock gum and a few whoopie cushions. Izuku is forced to buy a few
shirts that don't have one word on them and walks out of a clothing store with bags full of stylish
(according to Hado) tank tops and jeans.
After that, they eat a quick lunch in the food court. It's all junk food, something Izuku knows he
shouldn't eat, but he also knows All Might would probably want him to enjoy his birthday as much
as possible.
Then finally, they watch a movie. Togata, who's a comedy fan, and Izuku, who prefers action, are
at odds. Neither of them wants the other to miss out on their preferred genre and go back and forth
debating about what to see. After ten minutes of it, Hado gets fed up and threatens to make the
both of them watch a movie that she picks that they would undoubtedly hate. Izuku and Togata
settle on watching an action-comedy pretty quickly after that.
After the movie, they go back to Togata's house. Izuku's apartment is a bit too small for four
teenagers and two parents, but Izuku's mom has no issue going over to someone else's for a small
party. In fact, she'd been helping out Togata's dad with preparing for dinner the whole day they
were out.
The party back at the house is low-key, focused in the living room around the coffee table, where
two massive photo albums rest. They all take turns cooing and giggling over pictures of baby
Togata wrapped up in a homemade red cape as he's held aloft by his father and photos of a toddler-
aged Izuku hopping up and down in an All Might onesie. Music flows through the background,
drowned out by laughter.
Dinner is made up of a mixture of Izuku's and Togata's favorites, which clash horribly, but no one
really cares. Then, the gifts come.
From Hado, Izuku gets a simple paracord necklace with a green lightning bolt charm on the end.
From Amajiki, he gets a pair of books on advanced Quirk biology. From Togata, he gets a nice
leather jacket, colored black and styled with bits of green and red. And from his mom, Izuku gets a
few bits of hero merch.
Togata gets a belt from his father, black and expensive-looking with a gold buckle styled to look
like a snarling mouth. Hado gives him a pair of red sweatpants, with 'If lost, return to Lemillion'
custom printed on the side. From Amajiki, Togata gets a simple letter, which he says he'll open in
private later.
Izuku's gift is last, and he hands it to his friend shakily. "Here," he says, a little unsure.
Togata takes it and fakes like it's way too heavy for him to carry. Everyone has a quick laugh but
focuses back on him easily enough. "What's in it?" the blond asks, carefully peeling at the All
Might-themed wrapping paper. The package is thin and rectangular, with a noticeable bulge in the
middle.
"It's a surprise," Izuku says. "I hope you like it."
Tearing off the last of the wrapping paper, Togata looks at his gift. It's a stack of high-quality
yearly calendars, the kind a business secretary would use. There are fifteen of them, and each day
is divided up into pre-noon and post-noon, and there's space to write notes on every week. There's
also a large package of ballpoint pens, black, red, and blue.
"What's it all for?" Hado asks, already inspecting a calendar for herself.
"W-well, Togata wants to save a million people, yeah?" Izuku reaches for the pens. He'd spent a lot
of time running calculations for this. Not his words, but for the present. "I thought that he'd need a
way to count, right? S-so I figured out how many pens you'd need to make a million tallies, and I
found a way to organize them. Is… is it good enough?"
Togata gently sets the calendars down on the coffee table. Before anyone can blink, Izuku is
wrapped up in a monstrous bear hug. "It's perfect."
Izuku smiles, red in the face, either due to embarrassment or the lack of air in the lungs. He hugs
back, and if he puts a fraction of a percent of One for All to make it a tighter embrace, no one
notices.
[x]
"Again! And make sure you actually try this time!"
Classes back at U.A had started up in mid-July, which was basically another birthday present for
Izuku. Training is probably his favorite thing to do, and he always makes sure to try his best. Of
course, some parts are better than others. He can't just train his favorites all the time—that’s just
stupid, and Izuku tries not to be stupid. And so here he is, shakily getting up from a dank-smelling
wrestling mat and peeling his soaked-through tank top off from his skin for some extra relief from
the unbearable heat.
Mr. Pink stands before him, red in the face and sweating like a pig (Izuku's no different on that
front) but otherwise untouched. The green-haired boy wishes he could be the same, but the ache in
his ribs is awful. He'll need to see Recovery Girl after this.
"Well? I'm waiting!" Mr. Pink's impatience spurs Izuku on. He knows how much worse it'll be if
he keeps the man waiting.
Banned from the use of his Quirk, Izuku shifts into a loose fighting stance. Left foot forward, right
foot back. One arm lower than the other to protect the belly and groin, the other higher to guard the
face and strike. Mr. Pink stays completely still, his mustache glimmering with sweat.
Izuku dashes forwards, focused on keeping his balance and watching his teacher's center of
gravity. He throws a light jab. The man sways to the side and scoffs.
Gritting his teeth, the boy presses forwards, advancing with a series of jabs and hooks, trying to
press for an opening. Every one of his attempted strikes is either dodged, blocked, or redirected,
and with each failure, his teacher scoffs or makes a rude comment.
Truthfully, Izuku respects Mr. Pink. The man is skilled beyond belief and has decades of real-
world experience that’s invaluable, and, more importantly, the best thing for a teacher to have. But
Izuku doesn't understand why the man has to berate him at every turn and put him down whenever
he fails. It drives him up a wall, and on days like this, where he's not making a lot of progress,
Izuku can feel the compulsion to flick his Quirk on.
It doesn't help that One for All feeds off of his emotions and tends to urge him to jump to full
throttle.
But Izuku doesn't bend to any of his impulses. That would be a great way to hurt somebody, and
considering that the only other person in the room could probably (it’s only probably because
Blackwhip could be turned into a mini kraken at any moment, but Mr. Pink could most definitely
knock Izuku out even if he went all the way up to twenty-four percent) kick his ass, that somebody
would probably be him.
So instead of throwing a tantrum, Izuku bides his time. He keeps moving, trying to corral his
teacher, who's not attacking for the moment to teach him how to look for openings, into a corner.
But, of course, it all goes down the drain.
"Are you even trying?" the teacher spits. "How dare you waste my time!"
Izuku doesn't (or maybe can't) take any more of it. He throws a punch, way too high and way too
overextended. Mr. Pink sees it and moves to counter, retort already leaving his lips. But then Izuku
sweeps the man's legs as hard as he can. With his teacher off balance, Izuku tackles him to the
ground, trying for a textbook pin.
He fails, of course. Mr. Pink is stronger than him and bigger, too. Izuku ends up in a chokehold,
gasping for breath. Then, he's released and allowed to drop to the ground.
Panting, Izuku forces himself to his feet, raising his fists to go again. But something's wrong. Mr.
Pink is smiling. That, in and of itself, is horrifying. The man never seems to have an expression
other than anger on his face. But now, he looks satisfied and vicious at the same time. It's enough
to make Izuku's bones chill.
"That," the man says, walking over to Izuku and poking a single finger into his chest, “is exactly
the thing you should do in a fight."
"Fake high, go low?" Izuku questions. It was really a textbook maneuver, one of the first he
learned. Really, the only unorthodox thing he did was go for a full-body tackle after kicking him
off balance, and even that was a good skill.
The man laughs, loud and confident. "No, not that. Your tackle was timed perfectly. Most people
expect to hit the ground when their legs are sweeped, not get drilled into the mat by a hundred and
thirty pounds of teenager."
"I… what?" Izuku asks, scratching his neck. With all the sweat he'd worked up, his fingers slide
across his skin.
"What were you thinking when you did that?" the teacher asks.
"Nothing, really. I just wanted to hit you hard."

The man chuckles. "That's not a bad start. You should be aiming to get me, or whoever you're
fighting, to surrender as fast as possible. And what you did back there was exactly the type of thing
that would do it."
"Bait and switching?" Izuku ponders. It definitely has its advantages.
"Feints, fakeouts, whatever you want to call them." Mr. Pink points over Izuku's shoulder. The boy,
stupidly, looks over it. A hard fist slams into his throat with a smack, and he collapses onto the
ground.
"The hardest hit," the teacher says, looking down at his wheezing student, "is the one they don't
expect."
[x]
A dummy, painted white and comically dressed in an old-timey robber's outfit, is slammed against
the wall. Its limbs pop out of its sockets, and the head bobs around. A single black, glossy strand is
embedded in its chest, twitching for a moment before disappearing.
"That's way too violent," Eraserhead sighs, walking over to inspect the dummy. To his right, Izuku
drops the strand, and the dummy collapses. "Can you dial it back? You snagged me and Mic up in
the practical, and you had no problem picking up the balls at camp."
"It's just really hyper right now," Izuku says, worriedly eyeing the damage done to his (thankfully)
non-living target. "It just wants to do something big, but I'm restricting it to one whip. It's really
hard to hold back when it wants to break free really bad."
Eraserhead looks at him tiredly. "You can raise hell with your Quirk later. Right now we're doing
capture training, which, as you know, is a delicate art."
One for All itches beneath Izuku's skin, particularly in his palm. Rip and tear, it howls. Kill. It's
been mad all morning, for some reason or another, but for the life of him, Izuku can't figure out
why.
Soon, Izuku thinks back. After this. Give me control now and you'll be free soon.
With a (metaphorical) huff of anger, One for All stops pushing against him, and Izuku takes the
ropes. "I'm ready to try again," he says out loud. Eraserhead eyes him carefully.
"Fine," he says, pointing to another dummy in a long line of dummies. "Get one of them."
Reaching out a hand, Izuku forces a strand of Blackwhip out with a grunt. Matte black, it hits the
nearest dummy in the chest, knocking it back a bit before quickly weaving around it like a long coil
of rope.
"Definitely an improvement," Aizawa says dryly, inspecting his work. "You'll have to do better at
keeping silent when you use it, and hitting people with a blunt force can come in handy if you need
to stun them, but it's frowned upon with capture gear. Just go right for the snare, first."
Izuku nods, understanding. He retracts the whip, letting it dissipate into a small cloud of smoke.
"Do you think I could try two at once like this? They're bigger than the ones I was working with
back at camp, but I had six then."
Aizawa eyes him critically for a moment. "Later," he decides. "For now, we'll do something
more… hands on."
U.A has four major false cities and a dozen minor ones. The major four, which are all in different
styles (one is planned in a perfect grid system, one is haphazard and random, one is industrial and
another political), take up half of the campus on their own. The minor twelve make up another ten
percent combined but are much more high-tech. The one Aizawa leads Izuku to is the Night City.
Completely encased in a dome, the Night City perfectly models a lower-class slum that would be
found in a big city. A fake moon casts light down at an angle, but there are no fake stars. Neon
signs and broken street lights provide the rest of the light needed to navigate the area, and the
whole city is kept dirty for extra realism.
It also stinks or filth, and Izuku crinkles his nose as he steps inside of the dome because of it. Just
inside the entrance is a small, dimly-lit park. A basketball court is a few dozen meters to the right,
and to the front is a broad city street made up of fake shops and apartments. It may as well be
midnight with how little light there is.
In front of him, Aizawa reaches under his scarf and pulls on his goggles. "You'll be stalking me,"
the man says, already slinging a strand of his scarf up to a street light to launch himself forward. "I
get a thirty second head start, and you can't make a capture until we've gotten to the city square.
Understand?"
Izuku nods, gym uniform rustling along with him. He misses his old suit, but it was damaged
beyond repair. At least Power Loader is having him draw up some new designs.
"Good." With that final word, Eraserhead shoots off to a rooftop, barely visible in the darkness.
Izuku counts to thirty before kicking off into the air with Float. Right now, he is the hunter, which
lends itself to two schools of thought. He could either be overt in his stalking, taking to the air
where Aizawa could see him and simply wait until the man corners himself, or he could be covert
and stalk from the shadows.
Aizawa could erase Quirks and wouldn't corner himself in the type of place he operated in, so the
choice is a no-brainer.
Izuku lands on a rooftop with a roll, absorbing the impact and making as little noise as possible.
One for All makes a small nudge against his mind, not enjoying all the sneaking that's to come. In
the distance, he spies Aizawa swinging across a street. Izuku heads in his direction, leaping up and
taking care to keep all of the green lightning inside of him.
Landing with another roll, Izuku presses on, following little shadows of movement in the distance
as he analyzes the city for a good spot to strike. There are plenty of back alleys and dead ends, but
Aizawa won't be caught dead in one if he's being hunted, so Izuku keeps looking.
He needs a spot with at least two escape points, mostly so he can lure Eraserhead into a trap but
also so he can get out of there if the situation turns on him. If he found a good spot, he'd simply
push Aizawa in that direction and try to gradually put him in the figurative noose. Then, Izuku
would block off the biggest exit and force him to the smallest one, which would be sealed off with
Blackwhip. If all went well, he wouldn't be seen directly, and he wouldn't have to do much direct
fighting. But he needs a spot first, and keeping an eye on his quarry is a must.
By the time Aizawa reaches the town square, Izuku has two possible areas to use. In a perfect
world, he'd have time to scope out the parts of the city he hasn't seen as well, but he'll have to work
with what he has.
Crouching on an empty water tower, Izuku watches as Eraserhead casually strolls through an empty
parking lot. If he were hunting anyone else, Izuku would attack right now, but open areas are
Erasure's (the Quirk) strong suit. All it would take is one loud rustle of clothing, or the squeak of
sneakers on metal, and Aizawa's eyes would be red and scanning the area, no doubt blocking
Izuku's Quirk. So the boy waits and bides his time.
After about a minute of standing in the middle of the parking lot and looking around, Aizawa slinks
off into a back alley. Izuku, forced to move or face losing him, floats up and across the parking lot.
Going high like this is risky, but there's no good cover in the openness of the square, so it's best to
keep high and hope.
He reaches a tall office building and looks down for Eraserhead, who can't have moved far. The
group of buildings below him is devoid of all but glowing lights, so Izuku moves to a different
side. Still nothing. There's not much on the third and fourth sides as well, or nothing he can see
from his bird's eye view. So Izuku is forced to choose between going down or flying off to a
different part of the city.
Again, if Aizawa catches him in the air, he's done for. The better option is to descend and search
from the ground. Izuku is the hunter, so he has to keep the pressure up.
Free-falling from the top of the office building (everyone from his mother to Gran seems to hate
when he does this, but it's just so much fun and there really is no risk), Izuku lands on the concrete
in the middle of an alley. He scans the shadows carefully, making sure to not miss a single corner.
Finding nothing, he moves on.
He looks through two more alleys, but both are empty. On the third one, Izuku feels the hairs on
his neck stand up. He feels his pulse quicken, and he starts to move faster. Some small, animalistic
part of his mind tells him that he's being watched. He starts to move out of the alley, wanting the
comfort of an open area, but he's too slow.
A rustle of clothing, the hiss of cloth flying through the air, the thump of a body hitting the ground.
Izuku is tangled up in a capture weapon, Quirk nullified. He sighs, uncomfortable with the silence
in his head.
Aizawa approaches, Quirk still on, and retracts his scarf. Izuku is released and stands up quickly. "I
was supposed to be hunting," the boy says, fully knowing that there's a good reason why Aizawa
did what he did.
The teacher only blinks, and Izuku braces against the mental strain of his Quirk. It's still mad,
unfortunately.
"Prey doesn't like being chased," the man says. "Whoever you're stalking will catch on eventually
and try to pull something. That's what happened at the end before I got you."
Izuku nods, brushing his gym uniform for dust. "I lost you after you crossed the parking lot," he
says. "Where'd you go?"
"Nowhere," Aizawa says. Izuku only cocks his head in confusion. The teacher's expression shifts to
something more devious. "I didn't leave the street I got on. I just ducked into a random door and
waited."
"That's…" Izuku ponders. It's really smart, actually. But how realistic was it? Decently so if
Aizawa did it in a lesson.
"It was something you weren't expecting," Aizawa finishes for him. "You thought I'd keep moving,
correct? Well, I used that to my advantage and got the drop on you. That's why I won."
"So I should've acted quicker?" Izuku asks.
Aizawa nods. "But that's not the only important thing. What would have happened if you went
right for a fight when the thirty seconds were up?"
"I wouldn't have been able to do anything," Izuku says. "You would have reacted too fast, and there
weren't any good spots to launch an attack from."
"I think you might've had a better chance than you think." Aizawa looks over the street, eyes taking
in every detail. If Izuku is being honest, he'd say that the man probably has the whole city layout
memorized. "I've been involved in almost all of your teaching for the past four and a half months,
Midoriya. I know how you think, and I know how you plan. I fully expected you to wait things out
until there was a perfect moment. If you had attacked as soon as possible, I'd have been surprised."
"But I know you can react fast enough to capture me even if I do something like that," Izuku
argues.
Aizawa shrugs. "Maybe. But my point is that waiting for the perfect moment is stupid. Make your
own perfect moments, with unexpected techniques and, above all, surprise." The man turns very
serious for a moment. "If I had to pick between having my scarf at all times or always having the
element of surprise, I'd throw off this piece of cloth faster than you could blink. There is no more
efficient way to deal with an opponent than attacking when they least expect it. I've done many
missions that I otherwise couldn't have done just by doing something completely out of left field."
Izuku nods, mind already speeding off, but he isn't finished. "That's not an excuse to be dumb and
reckless." Aizawa's eyes bore into Izuku's soul. "Think before you act, always. Consider what your
enemy knows, what they might know, and what they don't know. Plan accordingly and then get the
job done."
"Yes, sir."
[x]
"So, have you been thinking about a new costume lately?"
Izuku looks up from tying his shoes to look at Hado, who's casually slipping into her own costume.
The first time she changed outside of a stall, he nearly had a heart attack, but now he's more or less
used to it.
"A little," Izuku says, looking away a bit too quickly. More or less doesn't mean completely. In the
background, Togata and Amajiki pause their conversation to listen in. "I know it has to work with
my whips, and that it'll be green, but… I have no idea of what else to do."
"You should try to make it work with your style and super moves," Togata suggests, checking over
his cape for any damage.
"I don't have any super moves," Izuku points out. "And I don't really have a style. I just fight, you
know?"
"That's a load of crap." Hado points a finger at Izuku, so close that it nearly brushes against his
nose. "We all have different styles here. Amajiki is tactical and efficient, Togata is weird and
unorthodox, and you're ridiculously fast and random. Like, I don't even think I've ever accurately
predicted a move of yours. Ever. What about you, Togata?"
"A handful of times, but only when he finds something new and tries it out," the blond boy says as
he straightens his gloves. "Other than that? I don't even think Midoriya knows what he's about to
do in a fight."
Izuku flushes. Not thinking is a bad thing. "I shouldn't do that. I might slip up and miss something
if I get lost in the fight."
"Maybe." Hado shrugs. "But really, not being able to read someone is annoying. Add that to your
speed, and bam! You've got a style."
"Okay, but I don't have any super moves. And how do you design a suit to work with random
maneuvers?" Izuku stands and straightens out his gym uniform jacket.
"You pulled Hado out of the air and then put her in a headlock last week," Amajiki speaks up.
"You've got your air blasts, and you have this really good punching combo that's good enough to
bruise my tentacles. Those are basically super moves in all but name."
Izuku sighs. "I'll think about it. Thanks, you guys."
A short time later, the four of them are lined up in front of Mr. Aizawa in a grassy open field. The
sun beats down, but it's not unbearable, though Izuku does feel bad for his friends since they're in
full hero gear. Overheating could be a problem, but hopefully they'll stop if it gets too bad.
"Some of you have an advantage in a wide open space like this," Aizawa starts, looking at Hado
and Amajiki. "Others of you are at a disadvantage." He looks at Izuku and Togata this time, though
he lingers on the taller boy. Izuku can manage pretty well in open spaces with Burst Style, but Full
Cowling is much more suited to enclosed areas by design. "But that's how it is in the real world.
Pros have to make the best of the worst. We'll start with one-on-ones, then move on to two-on-twos
and three-on-ones."
Izuku blinks. "Three-on-one?" he asks, making sure.
Aizawa grunts. "Yes, three-on-one. It should be interesting."
"Or painful," Amajiki mumbles.
"Nah, it won't be that bad," Togata says, gazing over the perfectly manicured lawn that won't be
like that for much longer. "They should be over in a flash, right? None of us could take on the
other three for long!"
"We'll see about that," Aizawa says, bringing the attention of the students back to him. "Midoriya,
Togata, you're up first."
Nodding, the two boys move away from the group and over to a different portion of the lawn.
Carefully analyzing his opponent, Izuku lets One for All soak into his skin. Togata has a good feel
for his style, and even if Izuku's moves are random, the blond boy is still crafty enough to dodge or
phase through everything Izuku throws at him. Izuku's first instinct is to go right for a rush and try
to force Togata on the back foot with a direct assault. Between the Burst Style and his regular Full
Cowling, he could close the distance and start attacking in a blink. But…
The hardest hit is the one they don't see coming.
Surprise is your best weapon. Make your own perfect moments.
With a deep breath, Izuku preemptively wakens Blackwhip, just enough to make his hands itch and
for his Quirk to prod at his mental walls. He's never really used Blackwhip extensively in a spar
before. Sure, he's grabbed onto people and other objects with it but never anything like Five had
done. But the self-aware Quirk is meant for mobility and quick movements, Izuku knows that. So
perhaps…
"You may begin when ready," Aizawa says casually.
With a kick, Izuku dashes forwards, drawing a fist back to throw a punch at Togata's head. It's a
basic opening, something he's done a million times. But it's different now.
Togata, who's already jumping up in the air to gain momentum for one of his ground leaps,
prepares for Izuku's fist to phase through his head, but it never comes. At the last second, right
before the hit lands, Izuku throws a hand out to the side. A single black tendril erupts from his
palm, embedding in the ground. Izuku jerks to the side, and Togata flinches at the speed of his
change of direction.
As Togata starts to sink into the ground, fully permeable, Izuku hits the ground and spins to a stop.
He waits for just a split second before dashing a dozen meters away from where he landed. Togata
expects this and will surely pop out and try to get his bearings before going on the offensive. But
Izuku won't let him.
The second the blond boy pops out, Izuku pounces. Leaping high into the air, he shoots out two
whips this time, one on either side of Togata. He speeds to the boy feetfirst, as though he's
intending to slam into his torso. Togata, still midair, sees this and smiles. Izuku has done similar
things before, happy to miss out on a good hit to drive more air from his lungs. But not this time.
Izuku's feet sink a millimeter into Togata's ribcage. And then he changes directions. A burst from
Float to push him higher in the air. A strand of Blackwhip to change directions. A rush of air from
the speed at which he moves. Izuku tackles Togata midair, grabbing onto the boy's legs and
slamming him to the ground.
Eyes wide, Togata goes fully permeable, forced into the earth. Izuku stays midair, waiting. His
opponent pops up in a split second, sucking in a huge breath of air and keeping a close eye on
Izuku, who doesn't want to stay put.
Targeting the head this time, Izuku throws a bait punch right at Togata's jaw as he bursts forth. But
Togata has caught on. Instead of letting it phase, he ducks. Izuku flips over his head, but that's
exactly what he wants. Like the time before, two strands of Blackwhip pull him forward faster than
the eye can see, and Izuku's feet slam into Togata's back, forcing him down.
Overshooting Togata's body, Izuku halts a few feet away, eyeing the other boy as he gets back up
and shrugs off the big hit he took. Togata smiles, bright and warm. Izuku smiles back, hungry and
feral. The blond boy dips into the ground then back up again, and Izuku charges too. Ten feet up
into the air, they clash. Togata throws a hook which Izuku lets bite his face. He'll take the trade.
A leg hooks around Togata's blue legs, pulling him in. Izuku lets him phase through his body
completely, already taking advantage of the boy's blindness to spin around and prepare another
attack.
Togata lands on the grass with a roll, popping up and moving in a random direction before Izuku
can pin him down. But that's fine. It means Togata's more worried about not playing into his hands
than getting his own hits in.
Izuku pursues, letting out five whips to flail around, masking his movements. Togata dodges them
expertly but can't keep track of all of them and Izuku at the same time. So the younger boy closes
the gap in a blink, winding up for a massive punch to the gut. Togata weaves out of the way, only
to be met with a kick to the head.
Turning his Quirk off, Izuku moves forward to Togata, who's laying belly up on the ground and
breathing hard. "You alright?" he asks, extending a hand.
"Yeah, m'good," Togata groans, grabbing onto Izuku and hauling himself up. "I think you rattled
my teeth with that last kick."
"Sorry, I should've dialed it back." Izuku grimaces, reaching out and moving Togata's head to the
side with his fingers. His kick caught him in the back half of his right cheek, and it's already
forming a massive bruise. Izuku gives it a gentle poke.
"Ah!" Togata hisses. Izuku jerks away.
"Sorry!"
"No, no, it's fine." Togata smiles, rubbing his cheek. "It's not like I use my jaw to fight, and it
doesn’t hurt that bad."
"Are you sure about that?" The pair of boys look over to see Aizawa, flanked by Hado and
Amajiki, who look a touch worried. "Midoriya can kick hard enough to break concrete. You could
easily have a concussion."
"Nah, everything's clear," Togata insists. "You can even check me over if you need to!"
Aizawa eyes him critically before nodding. "Fine. Midoriya, what percent were you at when you
kicked him?"
"Three, sir," Izuku answers. "It's weak enough to be okay for a human skull, but I kinda put a lot of
umph in it, so…"
"Togata can see the old lady later, it's probably fine. But if he starts to feel bad, he should stop
what he's doing and immediately go to the infirmary." Aizawa gives one last hard stare at a
sheepish Togata. "Now, what were your plans going into this fight?"
"I wanted to bait him into a floor lock," Togata says, referring to one of his favorite ways of
restraining opponents. "If I could get my arms or legs around his neck, I could've dragged him
down and gotten a win pretty easily."
"Midoriya?"
"I wanted to put him in a lose-lose situation," Izuku says. "I thought that if I could make him
second-guess himself and make him unsure of where and when I'd strike, then I could get a
finishing hit in, and I did."
"That's a pretty good strategy," Aizawa comments. "Togata is good at reading people, and I saw
that he caught on at the end so you used the whips to press more. You did, in fact, put him in a bad
situation."
"But it won't work twice!" Togata gives Izuku a playful elbow. "I won't keep going airborne next
time, which is a good defense against that, no? If things get too heated, I'll just slip underground."
"That could work." Izuku nods. "You just have to manage your breathing, which you're already
good at."
"The best way to get out of a bad situation is to just never be there," Amajiki mumbles. Aizawa
gives a small nod of approval.
"Anyways!" Hado smiles, practically floating up to Izuku. "Those were really sweet moves! On
one of them, it was like your feint hit Mirio harder than the actual attack! It was super cool. Teach
me?"
"I mean, it wasn't really all that cool," Izuku babbles. "I just wanted to keep him guessing and on
the back foot. I thought that making it so that, no matter if Togata dodged or phased, he'd have to
take a bit would lead to victory. He's got three big options with his Quirk and skill set—dodge,
phase, or sink into the floor—so making all of them a bad option was a good idea for me. I don't
think it'd really work on other people, though."
"I'd disagree." Izuku's head snaps over to Eraserhead, who looks thoughtful. "Against weaker and,
frankly, dumber villains, lots of feints would be useless, but against villains on your level?
Intelligent ones who can fight on the level of pros? You'd be able to use it on them to great effect."
"See? You're amazing!" Hado snags Izuku by the arm. "Now teach me!"
"M-maybe later!" Izuku squeaks. "We still have a lot of class left."
"Ugh, fine."
[x]
"Self-healing fabric? Why the hell would you need that?"
Izuku looks up from his sketch of a new costume design and over to Power Loader. The workshop
they're in is occupied by busy support course students and is filled with noise—a far cry from the
quiet design studio across the hall.
"I have an idea for a special move, and my Quirk tends to rip my clothes," Izuku explains, flipping
open a nearby notebook to a sketch of him with tendrils of Blackwhip extending from his torso.
"Self-healing fabric could keep repairs from happening and would help with durability in the
field."
"That stuff ain't cheap, you know," the man grumbles. "But, yeah, I see your point. What parts of
your suit have the self-healing stuff?"
"Oh, uh, almost all of it." Izuku taps the boots of the drawing. "Not these, of course, but just about
everything else."
Power Loader shakes his head. "No, that won't do. The effort it would take to make gloves outta
the stuff would be wasted, it's just not cost-effective. I've heard about your Quirk from Eraser, it's
mostly hand-based, yeah?" Izuku nods. "Yeah, you'd shred your gloves every time you used it, self-
healing fabric or no. You'll either have to go gloveless or think around the problem."
Izuku bites his lip. "The gloves are integral to the design and will help me out in fights. They have
to stay. Maybe…" He flips to a blank page and quickly sketches a rough top-down view of a glove.
He adds some details, like little notches in the knuckles and an opening near where his hand meets
his wrist. "Having gaps would help while maintaining overall protection. The material just has to
be tough."
Power Loader looks over his sketch and the rest of the pages detailing the new costume. "That
should be fine," he says. "Just don't let Aizawa see your goggles."
Izuku leaves the workshop after that, bright red and trying to forget about the double-page spread
detailing a pair of barred eyewear.
[x]
Nejire flits about casually, circling around Mirio and Tamaki as they talk about school stuff. In the
corner of the room (which has two doors and three windows looking over a fake city and is their
training area for the day) is Eraserhead, who only looks half-awake, per usual. She's always
wondered how the man juggled teaching and full-time hero duties, but the sleeping bag he carries
around all the time answers the question pretty well. Still, Nejire wants to know from Aizawa
himself, but the man is almost always grumpy and doesn't particularly enjoy chatter, so she keeps
quiet. For now.
Of course, the only reason she's thinking about Aizawa's sleeping schedule is because a certain
someone is taking their sweet time in the locker room. "Ughhh," Nejire grumbles. She exaggerates,
of course. She's not really mad, but hey, a girl's allowed to be impatient. "What's taking Midoriya
so long?"
"It's his new costume!" Togata says cheerfully. To his left, Tamaki gets the glow in his eyes that
comes every time his best friend (more like crush, but he refuses to admit it) says something happy.
"It's probably different from his old one, so he needs some time getting into it. Remember when
Tamaki changed his costume last year? It was weeks before he was fully used to it."
"It's just spandex, though, right? Can't be that hard to put on," Nejire thinks out loud. "Or maybe he
changed it up! Do ya think he'd make it cotton this time? Wait, no, that's too warm. Leather,
maybe? No, that's not his thing. Maybe he went for a full suit of armor!" They're all highly
unlikely, of course, but she likes to pretend. Izuku with his total (though it's more like slight these
days) baby face dressed in full knight regalia is a fun thing to think about. Or even Midoriya
dressed like one of those kids from her middle school who had ten piercings and wore leather even
if it was boiling outside. Funny stuff.
"It's probably just a slight difference he wants to make sure he gets right," Tamaki says, ever the
voice of reason. "You know how diligent he is."
"Nah, that's not as fun," Nejire says, floating up a few feet and rolling over on her back to look at
the ceiling. Already she's counting specks of dust. "I think he completely overhauled it. That's a
Midoriya thing to do, especially when he gets inspired."
"Or that," Tamaki concedes.
Not even a second later, they get their answer. Midoriya walks through the door as his usual (when
not in active combat, anyways) clumsy self, nearly tripping over nothing. "Hey guys!" he greets,
waving a hand. Nejire looks over and promptly freezes.
Midoriya looks good, she thinks. He definitely changed his costume a lot, too. Those two facts are
probably related. His boots, which come up to his knees and are shaped exactly like All Might's,
are mismatched, the left one white and the right one black. The accents on his shoes are red,
keeping the familiar motif, but they're subtle and dark, not distracting in any way as they add a
touch of color.
From the knees (which are padded slightly) up, the suit is green, lighter between his legs and under
his arms, darker across the front. A red belt, made entirely of circular bits that probably store stuff,
runs from shoulder to hip, brushing up against a small red sash around his naval. His breathing
thingy is still there, matte grey and hanging from his neck along with the necklace she got him for
his birthday.
Like his boots, Midoriya's gloves are mismatched, the right one white and the left one black. Both
have small holes in the heel of the palm and on the knuckles, which are reinforced with bits of
hard-looking material. His shoulders are padded with white bits of padding, and on the crown of
his head is a set of goggles, which are really more like a mask, thick all the way around, with bits
of black cloth around the white (barred exactly like Aizawa's, which is hilarious) lenses, giving it a
domino mask look.
"Woah," Nejire breathes, zooming over. She flicks his goggles down to get the complete look
before backing off again. "You look awesome!"
"Th-thanks!" Izuku says, a touch flushed. Mirio and Tamaki join her in looking over the costume.
"Lookin' good, man," Mirio says, patting him on the back. "How long did you work on it for?"
"Just a couple weeks," Midoriya says, pulling off his goggles and fingering them a bit. He has a lot
of nervous ticks like that, or maybe they're just habits. He bites his lip a lot and likes to chew on his
inner cheek. "Once I had a good idea, it all just came together easily."
"Did you change the fabric?" Nejire asks, looking closely at his chest. "It looks different from
before."
"Yeah, I did." Midoriya smiles proudly. "Here, watch." One of his black whips tears through the
bit of fabric where his rib cage is. It moves around like a curious snake for a bit before
disappearing. There's a hole in Midoriya's costume now, but it fixes itself, almost like magic.
"Ooh, that's cool," Nejire says, getting eye-level with the newly-healed fabric. "How does it work?"
"Well—"
"Training," Tamaki says suddenly. He looks mightily embarrassed, but it's an improvement from
when he wouldn't ever interrupt someone last year. "W-we have training to do, remember?"
"That's correct," Aizawa's monotone voice says. The man approaches the four of them calmly. He
takes one look at Midoriya, and then his goggles (which look exactly like his but white and with
extra cloth—it's cute, really), and then inhales sharply. "Problem Child," he mutters, sounding
tired. Nejire suppresses a giggle, and so does Togata. Midoriya looks very red, and Tamaki wears
an amused smirk.
"Costume changes aside," Aizawa continues, pointedly choosing to not look at his favorite (there's
no way to deny it, Nejire is willing to die on this hill) student. "We'll be working in pairs today.
Togata, Amajiki, you'll be doing combo attacks. There's bots just outside waiting for you. Hado,
Midoriya, flying."
Nejire mulls that over for a moment. Then, excitement.
"Finally!" she cheers, grabbing Midoriya by the arm and dragging him over to the door. He's a bit
heavy, but weight training and cardio exercise are good for some things, and she manages to take
him with her. "Let's go! It's been ages since I've really got to have an actual fly!"
Midoriya babbles on about not having enough directions, but Aizawa doesn't stop them so it's
probably over nothing. Nejire takes the boy out the door and carries him up into the open sky, her
stomach fluttering like it always does when she flies. Eventually, she releases Midoriya, who
doesn't even flinch, and flies up to be eye level with her.
"You got taller," Nejire observes. On the ground, she could chalk it up to extra heels in his boots,
but in the sky it's obvious. He put on a couple more centimeters at least.
"Um, a little, yeah." He smiles. "Hopefully I won't be short forever, haha."
Nejire giggles a bit, too. "Yeah, maybe you can catch up to Mirio. Then he can stop making short
jokes! Not that he does a lot already."
"Yeah," Midoriya says, looking over the city below. "What do you want to start with?"
"You're super cool moves, obviously," Nejire decides, zooming over to him. "I want to see if I can
move like you do but without all the punching."
"You're not really a melee fighter, are you?" Midoriya says, rubbing his neck, which is another one
of his habits.
Nejire shrugs. "I can throw a punch; all heroes can. But I'd rather not deal with close-up fighting,
y'know? I like to stay back and let my waves do the talking."
"Yeah, I kinda do." Midoriya takes a second to gather his thoughts. "Well," he starts, "you won't
use this stuff like me. I focus on setting up a hard hit or a tackle, usually, but you'll probably use
this to keep people guessing about where you are and to get into a nice firing position, right?"
Nejire nods but doesn't say anything. "Nice. So the basic maneuver is..."
Nejire lets Midoriya ramble as much as he wants, soaking in information like a sponge. He shows
her some of his basic combos and ideas of how she can use them, and she practices a bit on them,
getting a feel for how much power to put out and where to put it out from.
Then, they play tag. "It's a good way to apply new ideas in a simple way," he says. All Nejire hears
is that she can fly as much as she likes.
Midoriya is It first and leads her on a wild chase all over the city. They circle around statues, duck
under bridges, and leap from buildings. It's heart-pounding, fun, and a touch dangerous. She loves
it.
After tag, they do more drills. Midoriya shows her more moves and she copies. Some are hard,
others are easy, but it's putting them all together that's hard. Nejire doesn't know how Midoriya
manages to do all of it with barely a thought, but she's determined to get to that level, too.
After the drills come flying spars. They're at a breakneck pace, a hundred or so feet in the air, and
probably aren't safe. But that's fine, Nejire will catch Midoriya if he falls and vice versa. There's no
need to worry, and the reward outweighs the risk.
The spars go more or less 50/50. They both hold back a little because it's training and also way up
in the sky, not to mention that Midoriya has the reality equivalent of that old shonen 'I was only
using three percent of my power!' thing going on. Nejire's pretty sure that if he hit her at his max,
which is like, twenty percent or something? Details aren't important, but if he hit her at his full
power, then she'd probably die, which doesn't sound like fun, so it's fine that he holds back.
Once they're bored of sparing (which takes a while because fighting is fun), they just fly. Nothing
flashy is done, there's no weird handicap applied, and it's not really for training. It's just flying to
fly, something that's amazing in every way. It's a common sentiment between them, something
Nejire likes to see in the workaholic Midoriya, who'll probably end up like his homeroom teacher
before he's twenty.
They talk, too. Flying in silence is awkward. It's mostly random things, and all of the random
things somehow relate back to Quirks. Nejire wonders if it's possible to get an honorary degree in
Quirk science because Midoriya should definitely have one. His ideas for applying them are top-
notch, and he has up-to-date information on the latest developments in the field memorized. It's
impressive and a touch scary because Midoriya could probably think of some kind of flaw in every
Quirk ever. But there's really nothing to fear because he wouldn't hurt a fly that didn't attack first.
But that's only a passing thought. She's mostly focused on how nice it is to just listen to someone
and be listened to back.
They fly and talk for so long that they lose track of time, and Aizawa has to search the rooftops for
them with the other two boys. There's a lot of happy teasing from Mirio, which is expected, and
Tamaki smiles a bit, too, which is nice to see. But Aizawa has them all settle down and looks them
over with a serious eye.
"The principal has been watching clips of you four's training," the man says. "He likes what he sees
and thinks your development has been beyond your years. As such, he says that you're all ready for
the next step."
"What's the next step?" Midoriya asks, and Nejire remembers that, oh yeah, he's a first year.
Aizawa locks eyes with the boy. "The Provisional License Exam," he says, like one would
comment on the weather.
"Wait, really?!"
"Awesome!"
"Alright! After that we can do work studies, right?"
"I hope I don't fail."
"Yes, yes, it's very exciting," Aizawa says tiredly. "But it's also nothing to take lightly. Half the
takers pass, and most of them are third years for the one you'll be taking."
"Wait, so we're not doing it in the fall with the rest of our grade?" Togata asks.
"No. Nedzu says you're all fine to go a bit early." Aizawa's gaze sweeps over them one last time.
"Any other questions?" There are none. "Great. I have a mountain of paperwork to do. Go get
changed to bother someone else."
Nejire smiles as they walk back to the locker room, listening intently as Midoriya rambles about
the history of the test they'll be taking. What a great day.
Chapter End Notes
God this is long. I intended it to be about 7-8k but it's 10.3k, which is gargantuan
compared to what I usually put out. I'm mentally exhausted right now because half of
this way typed out in the last three hours, so if there's some weird mistakes, that's why.
Anyways, if I write something this long again it's going in parts, mostly so the chapter
average doesn't get destroyed and for preserving my sanity during editing.
In other news, the next one should have the entrence PLE exam and be way shorter
then this. If you want more details on Izuku's costume and style, they'll be more in the
next chapter but feel free to comment Questions if you've got em. Cheers!
License to Hero pt. 1
Chapter Notes
Thanks for 3k kudos!
The Provisional License Exam has been around for almost as long as the official Hero License. Just
after the Dark Times (which is an awful yet apt name for the decades following the original
Quirk), it had become apparent that giving a bunch of vigilantes, who didn't follow the law and
often didn't care for it, cards that said 'I can beat up any criminal I want with no repercussions' was
a bad idea, so a system was made.
First, there was the training wheels phase. A hero wannabe would apply to a government-
recognized and approved hero agency or approach a hero for an apprenticeship. The student would
be closely watched and nurtured, hopefully learning how to hero the correct and safe way rather
than copy what the old comics said. After the training wheels phase came the intermediate license.
It allowed for the holder to commit acts of heroism in emergency situations and to stop crimes they
happened upon. Intermediate license holders could not patrol on their own or actively seek out
crime, and to get one, a hero in training needed to take a test. The full license was the next step,
which is self-explanatory.
The general idea of the graduated system 'Don't do anything without a real hero nearby' to 'We trust
you to save lives but always defer to someone with more experience' to 'You're a real hero, save all
the lives that you can' is still used. With the creation of hero schools, it's only become more
streamlined. The schools pick the students, and the students follow the same steps as their
predecessors to become heroes.
Izuku has run through that same line of thought over and over for hours, trying to wrap his head
around the fact that he is about to try and take the next big step. A license. For him. He'll be an
official (provisional) hero! He wonders what the actual card feels like. All Might has shown Izuku
his, and it’s very high quality with lots of tiny details. And his picture, of course.
He also wonders what the test will contain. Aizawa said that it was all practical with an interview
but also that the contents changed regularly, so there’s no real way to know the exact contents of
the test. That makes Izuku nervous. There's nothing worse than taking a test you couldn't study for.
"Hey, why so serious?" A pale, slender finger pokes his cheek, waking Izuku from his internal
monologue. Up ahead, Aizawa sits in the vehicle's passenger seat, next to Present Mic as the louder
man drives. In the back, Izuku is squished between Hado and Amajiki, with Togata getting the
window. With how small their group is, they only have a small van rather than a full bus.
"Just nerves, I guess," Izuku says, looking over at Hado. Like the rest of them, she's dressed down
in a half-complete uniform. A simple button-down, no tie, and trousers instead of a skirt. The last
bit was so they'd all match according to her, but the way she kicks her feet up on the window and
lays down in the backseat with her head on Izuku's right thigh says otherwise.
"Eh, I get that," Hado says, nodding her head. A mob of periwinkle hair, laid across Izuku,
Amajiki, and Togata's laps, wiggles with her. "But the principal says we're ready, so it'll all be fine,
right?"
"Maybe…" Izuku says, looking out of the front windshield. It's past rush hour, and not a lot of
people drive these days, so the roads are almost empty. City streets fly by, and they only rarely
have to stop for pedestrians.
"It only has a fifty percent pass rate," Amajiki mumbles. "He's right to worry."
"Hey, none of that." Hado reaches a hand across Izuku to poke Amajiki on the nose. "We're gonna
do great! We'll pass with flying colors. Right, Togata?"
"Yep!" The blond boy leans forwards and gives Izuku a thumbs up. "We've been training for
weeks! All of us have multiple super moves, and our Quirks are strong! We'll pass for sure."
"Yeah," Izuku says, forcing a smile. Up in the front, Present Mic snickers.
"You hear that, Sho?" the man says. His usually slicked-back hair is styled in a messy bun today, if
only to save space in the van. "Your kids are gettin' cocky back there. Gonna do something about
it?"
"Focus on the road," Aizawa grumbles. "And I don't care. They're smart enough to know that
overconfidence is a bad thing."
"You didn't deny that they were your kids," Mic says, a smirk audible in his voice. Aizawa doesn't
say anything back, but Izuku can practically feel the dead-eyed stare across the two feet separating
them.
Hado giggles, shoulders shaking and bumping into Izuku's leg. "Do you really think we can't do
it?" she asks, looking over to the rearview mirror to see if she can look Mic in the eye. She's
smiling despite her question.
"Nah, you four are great," Present Mic says, eyes still on the road. "Aizawa won't admit it, but the
whole faculty thinks you're hot shit."
"Watch your language," Aizawa mutters.
Mic rolls his eyes, though Izuku can only tell that he does from how his head bobs. "They're
teenagers, Shota. Teenagers. Even if they're little angels, they've heard worse. Remember our
highschool days?"
"Unfortunately," Aizawa huffs.
"Whaddya mean 'unfortunately?'" Mic says, sounding appalled. "Sure it wasn't all sunshine and
daisies, but it was fun. Our Provisional License Exam is an example! Remember when you tripped
over your scarf because you were checking ou—"
"Oh look, we're here," Aizawa suddenly cuts him off, looking out the window at a massive
stadium-like building. The four students in the back all squish to one side, pressing against the
glass to get a good look.
And what a good look it is. The whole structure is the size of a city and is easily as tall as a
skyscraper. It's a miracle of engineering, not to mention a great feat of construction. The parking lot
alone is twice the size of Izuku's apartment complex, and inside it can only get more impressive
because underneath the domed ceiling are state-of-the-art simulation areas, designed to portray the
real world as perfectly as possible.
After they park and get out, it only gets more impressive. The doorway is massive and would
easily accommodate anyone with a gigantification Quirk or even an entire three story house. The
whole thing is sleek and clean, too, kept spotless by who knows how many workers or robots.
Togata makes a comment about how many tax dollars it must've cost, and it sends Izuku down a
whole other rabbit hole because that's something he didn't think of. It must've been billions, or even
a trillion. How could they have afforded to build it? Or even maintain the thing?
"You can ogle once you've got your licenses," Aizawa says gruffly. He's not looking at them, but
rather at the other schools who've also arrived. He looks cautious, like he expects an ambush. After
a few seconds of checking his surroundings, he looks at the four curious students. "Get your stuff
from the van," he orders.
Walking inside of the lobby is a surreal experience. It's not as big as one would expect, but it is tall.
One door leads in, another leads out to somewhere. Off to the sides, there are massive hallways,
numbered and labeled. In the middle of the floor is a long desk, where multiple secretaries sit in
front of expensive-looking computers.
Aizawa walks up to one of the secretaries, tailed by the students and Present Mic. A quick
conversation and a bit of paperwork later, and they're ready to go change.
Each school present gets its own area to change and warm up in. Since U.A only brought four test-
takers, they get the smallest one, which is the size of Izuku's apartment and divided into a sitting
room and an actual locker room. They waste no time changing, taking off their uniforms with
practiced ease and unpacking costumes.
Izuku carefully checks over his costume for any signs of damage. He's not really expecting any, but
it's good to be sure. Finding none, he starts to put it on. First comes the one-piece bodysuit, which
goes from his mid-calf to his shoulders. He'd gone for a more relaxed and calm design this time
around, with a small color palette and simple shapes.
Once the bodysuit is zipped up, he puts on the boots. They're tough and stiff, which is by design.
They're there to provide extra support and take a beating before they break. Like many things
about Izuku, his boots are inspired by All Might, with the diamond-shaped knee bits and the
overall length.
After the boots come the accessories. The waist sash is first, taken right from Nana's own costume
sans the gold buckle. Then comes the chest belt, inspired by Five's belt of bullet casings while also
doubling as storage for first-aid stuff, food, and other things he might need. His respirator is next,
cold and heavy metal that also guards his neck when not worn. It covers up his necklace a bit,
which is fine; he doesn't want to damage it.
Stepping out of the locker room with his googles between his teeth as he pulls on his gloves, Izuku
looks at the clock on the wall. It's divided into two parts, one telling the normal time and the other
counting down from five minutes. Eraserhead and Present Mic sit on a couch, both looking down
at their phones.
Hearing Izuku's footsteps, Aizawa looks up. "Ready?" he asks. Izuku nods, much too nervous to
speak or sit. He wonders what the timer means. Does the test start in five minutes? It's less than
that now, which only serves to make him more nervous. Maybe it's a timer for how long it takes
them to change from civilian clothes into hero costumes. That’s an important skill to have.
"Hey-o, we're ready!" Hado kicks the door to the locker room open, rushing out and practically
bouncing with excitement. "Midoriya, you changed so quickly. Are you still nervous?" She
approaches her friend and casually bumps her shoulder on his own.
"Just a little," Izuku says, looking over to see Togata and Amajiki walking out as well. One of them
is practically shaking with nerves and the other is even brighter than usual. "A-and my costume is
pretty easy to put on."
"Cool." Hado floats over to look at the clock on the wall, which now shows that there are two
minutes until something happens. "What's this for?" She looks at the two teachers.
"Some worker for the HPSC will come by in a sec," Mic answers, turning off his phone. "They'll
take you guys one by one to an interviewing booth. You'll all get two minutes to talk to a real news
anchor about something. It's probably gonna be about yourself, so that shouldn't be too hard. Try
not to sweat it, ya dig?"
"It's a bit late for that," Amajiki mumbles, already tucked away in a corner with his hood pulled all
the way down over his head.
"Oh, you'll do great, Tamaki!" Togata quickly moves over to his friend, giving him a few soft
strokes down his back. "How do you know how long the interviews will be? Some of the third
years I talked to said that theirs were five minutes each."
Wordlessly, Aizawa holds a sheet of paper aloft. Hado immediately rushes forth and plucks it from
his fingers, skimming it over in an instant. "This has the contents of the tests!" she exclaims. Then,
when everyone rushes over to look at it with her, "It's all vague, though. The rescue part is first
then combat. The expected pass rate is sixty-five percent. They don't even tell us how we'll be
graded."
"That's the Commission for you," Aizawa mutters unkindly. "Vague and unhelpful is their
trademark."
"Take it easy with the badmouthing, Eraser." Mic snickers. "You've got four hero hopefuls and me
in the room. And, after all, they sign your paycheck."
Aizawa looks about ready to tell Mic where exactly the Hero Commission can shove their
paycheck, but there's a knock at the door. Short, sharp, and polite raps draw everyone's attention.
"Enter," Aizawa says, standing up. Mic does the same.
The door, which is a warm, dark wood, swings open silently. In walks a skinny, middle-aged
woman in the highest pair of heels Izuku has ever seen, and even in those she's still barely the same
height as Hado. She sniffs when she sees everyone looking at her, straightening her suit and skirt,
which look like they were pressed while she was wearing them. "UA, correct?" Aizawa grunts at
her words. "Exceptional. Interviews are first. Is there an Amajiki Tamaki?"
"H-here," Amajiki stutters, being gently pushed forward by his friends. The woman gives him a
once-over and lets out an unimpressed huff.
"Follow me," the woman says, turning around and walking out of the room. She doesn't even look
back to see if Amajiki is behind her, which he isn't. It takes a couple quick hugs and more than a
couple words of encouragement before he leaves, scampered footsteps starting after the sharp stabs
of the woman's heels.
The waiting after that is tense. Everyone knows that Amajiki was probably the worst pick out of
them for who went first. By all accounts, it should've been Togata or Hado, but either because the
names were selected alphabetically or out of bad luck, he has to go into the interview blind.
"I hope he's doing alright," Togata says, worried. He started pacing the floor the instant he couldn't
hear the footsteps anymore. Hado and Izuku settle for watching him from a pair of armchairs, but
they're also really tense.
"He'll be okay, yeah?" Hado says, though there's not much cheer to it. "Tamaki's strong, he'll pull
through."
"Public relations are an illogical thing to put in this test anyways," Aizawa says from his spot on
the couch. "Not all heroes do stuff like that. If the test makers are logical, they'll make it so that the
interviews aren't worth many points."
"I just wish we could've picked the order," Togata says, uncharacteristically frustrated. "I would've
volunteered to go first."
"That was probably intentional," Izuku says, mostly to himself. "If they did that then they'd lose
some genuine reactions. The people who went first would probably be like you, Togata. They
could share what happened in the interview, and the people who waited would have time to plan
their responses. From their standpoint, going in a random or alphabetic order is the only way to
avoid that."
Togata sighs. "That doesn't mean I have to be happy about it."
"Yeah."
A silence blankets the room, no one in even a remotely good enough mood to talk. Izuku watches
the second hand on the clock, counting the ticks as the red line gradually moves around. It's hard.
His mind is going a million miles an hour, mostly worried for Amajiki but also planning out all
sorts of things he could do in the practical test. He’s definitely more of a combat-based hero than a
rescue one, but private lessons with Thirteen were good for something. A lot of things, in fact. And
with his belt of first-aid supplies, he should be able to help out in almost any situation.
But then there's combat. One for All at twenty-four percent is strong, but even then there are
limitations. What if he can't use his higher power levels? What if he can't get within striking
range? His Air Forces aren't good outside of a ten to twenty meter range, and Blackwhip and Float
can only move him around so fast. It would only take a bit of bad luck for him to get pinned down
by long-range fighters. If there are any fighters. It could just be robots, after all. Or anything,
really. The possibilities are endless because if they can afford a massive place like this for people
to take a test in, then who knows what else they could afford?
The door swings open again right when Izuku starts to visualize different fights. An exhausted-
looking Amajiki hurries in and sits down in his own chair, Togata rushing to his side.
"Hado Nejire," the woman says, looking around. Izuku gets the impression that she's not
particularly happy about how the interview went. If she even saw the interview.
"That's me," Hado says, getting up. She casts a look at Amajiki, who's breathing deeply, then one
at Izuku. He mouths a quick 'good luck' before she nods and turns to the woman. "Where to,
ma'am?"
"Down the hall. Let's not be late, shall we?"
Izuku doesn't watch them leave. Instead, he moves to Amajiki's side, kneeling opposite Togata. The
shy boy looks more than a little shaken up, with slouched shoulders and clenched fists. Togata's
rambling off encouraging things while gesturing wildly and making lots of terrible jokes.
"What happened?" Izuku asks gently. Amajiki draws a shaky breath.
"I choked is what happened," he mumbles. "It was just me and the interviewer, and I still couldn't
get a word out. How… Why am I like this?"
"There's nothing wrong with you, Tamaki," Togata soothes, wrapping an arm around his shoulders.
"You're just a little people-shy, there's nothing wrong with that. Interviews aren't necessary for
heroes. I know Aizawa doesn't do them."
"And we should all be thankful for that," Present Mic snarks before cursing at an elbow to his ribs.
"But I don't want to be like this," Amajiki mutters. It's probably the angriest Izuku's seen him, and
it's the kind of anger he understands best. Self-loathing. "I want to choose to not do interviews or
small talk because I don't feel like it. Not… not this." He gestures to himself and sighs.
"It's okay to fail," Izuku says, soft as he can manage. "There's nothing wrong with not succeeding
at something just as long as you learn from it. We get better because of our mistakes, right? So the
more we make, the better we get, which means you'll be really good at all of this socializing stuff
one day."
There's silence for a little bit. Amajiki and Togata are hard to read. Then, "That was super cheesy!"
Togata snickers, covering his mouth with a gloved hand. Izuku would normally be really
embarrassed, but the fact that Amajiki's laughing too helps dull that feeling.
"Like you're one to talk," Izuku says, defending himself. "What you said was no less cheesy!"
"Yeah, but," Togata starts. He can't keep it together and keeps on laughing, Izuku and Amajiki
joining in. They calm down eventually, and just in the nick of time as well because Hado comes
back, much sooner than expected.
The blue-haired girl confidently strides in, not even bothering to knock on the door before she
opens it. "I'm pretty sure I nailed it," she says, completely ignoring the stern woman behind her.
"You guys do anything interesting while I was gone?"
"Nope!"
"Cool. Anyways, the whole thing is—"
"We'd best keep this going," the woman interrupts, stepping forward and placing her foot on the
ground harder than usual to make a sharp crack. "There's only so much time before the practical
begins. Midoriya Izuku, you're up next."
Izuku stands and starts to follow the woman out, but he's stopped by a hand around his wrist.
Looking back over his shoulder, he sees his friends smiling. They all wish him good luck before
letting him go, but not without a couple fond pats on the back.
The walk down the hall is silent and almost suffocating. The woman faces perfectly forward and
walks in a perfectly straight line with perfect posture and perfect decorum. Despite her prim and
proper outward appearance, though, Izuku still gets the feeling that she doesn't like him or what she
has to do.
At the end of the hall is a metallic, hingeless door with a big blue circle in the center of it. The
woman knocks on the door three times, each rap sharp and short. Instantly, the door slides up into
somewhere, revealing a room.
"Well, what are you waiting for?" The woman sniffs. "Go in."
With a deep breath, Izuku crosses the threshold and takes the room in as the door shuts behind him.
It looks like a small movie set, with two fake, movable walls on the far side of the room and an
expensive-looking camera in the center of the floor. Everything is well-lit, and the fake room the
two walls make is modeled like the inside of a conference room, with a table and office chairs.
"Midoriya Izuku, is it?" a jovial voice says, echoing off the walls. Izuku turns to see a big
mustached man, perhaps seven feet tall with an obvious beer belly in a cheap-looking tweed suit.
"Yes sir, that's me," Izuku answers. His hand twitches. Should he extend it for a handshake? Or is a
bow more appropriate?
"Excellent, excellent," the man says, producing a clipboard from the inner breast pocket of his suit
along with a small TV remote. "Come, sit, don't be shy. I'm not here to hurt you." He walks over to
the fake walls and plops himself down in one of the chairs. It's much too small for him, and he
practically spills out of it, but the sturdy thing holds firm. Izuku follows and takes his own seat,
across from the man but parallel to the table.
"So, Deku," the man starts, setting his clipboard on the table and drawing a pen. He clicks a button
on the remote, and an audible beep comes from the camera. On it, a red LED light turns on. "What
kind of hero are you?."
"Oh!" Izuku says, caught off guard. "Is… is the..?" He trails off, catching the slight impatience in
the man's eyes. "Right, okay. Um, I'm more of a combat and villain-apprehension type of hero. I do
know my way around a rescue, but I tend to focus on combat more."
"Interesting, interesting." The man makes a small mark on his clipboard. "And you go to UA,
right? What's that like?"
"Really, really nice." Izuku smiles at the thought of his school. "The faculty is really great, there's a
lot of resources, and the people are amazing. I know I've really learned a lot there."
"What year are you in?"
"My first," Izuku answers. "I guess I'm taking this a bit earlier than what my teachers had planned,
but I think that's a good thing."
"Uh huh." The man nods, scribbling something on his notes. "I see you've got some interesting
parts on your costume. Did you lose one of your boots and one of your gloves?"
"No, the mismatching is actually intentional," Izuku explains. "People's eyes are drawn to bright
colors, so if I bait someone with my white glove or boot, then I can get a surprise hit with the black
ones."
The man raises an eyebrow and makes a heavy mark with his pen. "That's smart of you," he says.
"Are you a smart hero?"
"I-I'd like to think so, but I'm still just a freshman," Izuku stutters. "I like to overthink a lot which
might make it seem like I'm smart, but, well, I'm not really. Yet."
"Well, I'm sure you'll learn and grow throughout your academic career." He checks his watch.
"What's your Quirk?"
"Superpower," Izuku rattles off. "And the second aspect is called Dark Tendrils—I was lucky
enough to be born with a dual type Quirk. Oh, and I can fly."
"What about special moves? You got any?"
"Yeah a couple," Izuku says, then flushes. "They're mostly based on or inspired by All Might's, but
I've got a few of my own."
"Well, that's something I'd love to hear more about, Deku," the man says, turning over a leaf of
paper to cover whatever he's written down, "but I'm afraid that's all the time we have for today.
Goodbye."
Izuku blinks. "That's it?"
The man looks at him funnily. "It is unless you want to miss out on the more important portions of
the test."
With that, Izuku leaves the room, escorted by the stern woman all the way down the hall. This
time, though, the woman walks behind him, eyes drilling into the back of his skull and making the
minute hairs on his neck stand on end. It's uncomfortable, but the walk is short, so he forces
himself to deal with it and keeps moving.
When Izuku walks back into the sitting room, he finds that Togata isn't there with everyone else.
He looks over his shoulder to see if the woman knows where he is, but she'd left the moment he
entered the room. Shrugging the thought off, he walks further in and takes a seat. Immediately,
Hado moves over to him.
"How did it go?" she asks, leaning forward curiously. Her hair is long enough that it nearly brushes
the floor.
"Fine," he answers. "It went by quickly, and there weren't that many questions. I'm not sure how
well I did, though. Where's Togata?"
"Another office lady came by and picked him up," Hado informs. "Said that they wanted to speed
up the process and do more than one at once. He should be back soon if his interview is as short as
yours. What did the guy ask you about?"
"Surface-level stuff," Izuku says, thinking back. "Nothing too interesting, but somehow I still get
the impression that I answered wrong at least once."
"I think that's on purpose." Hado draws up a chair and takes a seat. "I had everything planned out
from the start, and he still sounded more than a little condescending. Maybe it's their way of
keeping us in the dark until the end of this? Or maybe they're being mean and it's a practical joke. I
can't really see a government agency doing pranks, though."
"The first one makes the most sense." Izuku nods. "When we take tests, they don't tell us our scores
until after they're done, right? It's probably the same thing here."
"Probably," Hado huffs. "But that's so boring, they sho—"
"I'm back, guys!" Togata bursts through the doors tailed by another woman dressed identically to
the first though slightly taller. "Are we ready to head over to the briefing?"
"Is the briefing room even open?" Present Mic asks, shutting off his phone.
"It is," the woman answers. "Though we don't know how long it will be until the start of the
practical. You are free to go there now." Aizawa nods and stands. He gestures for everyone to
follow him before walking out of the door.
It takes ages to go from their sitting room to the briefing area because, if the building (could it even
be called a building? The thing feels way too massive for that) is big on the inside, it's much more
so internally. As they walk, workers and what must be observers for the exam rush by on golf
carts, and many hero schools are there, too. The most notable is Shiketsu, the only school to be
called U.A's equal. Everyone from that school looks serious, with dark hero outfits with matching
hats and stern expressions. Everything about them, including how numerous they are, is the
opposite of Izuku's group.
There are other schools too. Ketsubetsu is definitely prominent, with lots of basic costumes and
smiling faces. Izuku's heard a lot about that school online, most of it critical and not exactly nice.
'The UA for screwups' is what one post called it, which is just completely unfair. Lots of good
heroes went to Ketsubetsu, and the school itself is known for its ability to churn out large classes of
good heroes every year.
Aizawa and Present Mic are not allowed in the briefing room. Instead, they're led away with all of
the other teachers to watch from the stands while the students themselves are packed into a large
cubic room with metallic walls and a large stage in the front.
For a while, nothing really happens. People talk among themselves, Togata makes dumb jokes,
Amajiki hides in his cape. All the normal stuff, really. But then, out of nowhere, a loud tapping is
played through the sound system.
"Hello, hello," a calm voice says, followed by more tapping. Izuku, along with everyone else in the
room, looks up to the stage to see a thin man in a suit holding a clipboard standing at the podium
on the stage. "Good, I've got your attention. Welcome to the first Provisional Licensing Exam of
the year. Today will probably be one of the more important ones in your life, so you best listen up.
"As you all know, this test is split into two sections: Rescue and Combat. Rescue is first. It will be
graded individually, and there's no restrictions other than hurting other test-takers, of course.
"The prompt for the rescue portion is as follows." The man clears his throat and straightens his
papers. He begins to explain, "A mountain in an isolated part of the country has had an avalanche.
The nearest city and surrounding villages have been affected greatly, experiencing a power outage
and several collapsed buildings." Behind him, the wall, which must be some kind of screen, flicks
on. It shows a basic map of a city at the base of a mountain with several other, smaller settlements.
To the south of the mountain is a bit of flat land with a small lake.
"Your job is to provide disaster relief for the citizens of the city, played by employees of the Help
Us Company. Please note that you are not there to fix everything in the city, but rather to help prep
the area for emergency responders. You will be graded on judgment, work efficiency, and overall
heroic behavior.
"Oh, and one last thing." It's hard to tell, but Izuku thinks he can see the man smirk. "You will be
operating in winter conditions. The temperature will be negative fifteen degrees Celsius, five
degrees Fahrenheit, and there will be wind. Good luck."
Izuku barely has time to register all the information he was just given before the entire stage sinks
into the floor with a hydraulic hiss and the walls collapse. He's hit with a gust of cold air and
shivers, huddling into his friends for warmth. Around him, people cry out in shock, and lots of
people with less than ideal costumes curse themselves and the test makers.
"Let's get to the front of the crowd," Togata suggests. They're all pressed up against each other, so
it's not hard to hear him over the chatter around them. "Then we can see what's going on." They all
agree that it's a good idea and join him in cutting through the mob of people.
Stepping away from where the room was, it becomes clear where they are. On the map, they'd be
on the west most part of the area, close to the city and the expanse of grass. The briefing room is
still partially attached to the giant wall, and they're looking down, not quite as tall as the mountain
but tall enough to see most of the city. The city that's still intact.
"W-where's all the snow?" One girl shivers. She's poorly dressed for this in a cropped tank top and
shorts.
As if to answer her question, a loud boom rips through the air, shaking the ground and sending
some people staggering. Up on the mountain, snow begins to fall, cascading down the slope with a
rumble and flattening everything in its path.
"Oh," the same girl says dumbly.
Oh indeed, Izuku agrees mentally. At least a third of the city and most of the small villages with it
are buried in snow. It's a horrible sight, too, as several buildings have fallen.
"There's people down there," Amajiki comments, squinting his eyes. "They're walking into the
city."
"Those must be the HUC people," Togata says. "Does that mean we can start now?"
Then, as though answering his question, the sound of an intercom crackles to life. "All of the HUC
members are in place. You may begin the exam."
Chapter End Notes
Ok, so explanation time. I wanted this to have all three parts of the test, but it would've
been too long, which I don't want. I probably could've gone back and done some fat
trimming in the earlier bits and get everything I want in ~7k words, but I didn't want
that. It would have taken to long and delayed the chapter, which I wanted to get out
today because...
It's been three months since the first chapter! Somehow I've managed to stick with this
for three months, which I do not regret at all. It's been really fun so far, I hope I keep it
up. Cheers!
Ps, it's been weird writing about summer stuff when I can't go outside without freezing
my ass off, so you guys are getting some cold winter action in the next one.
Licence to Hero pt. 2
Chapter Notes
A fog of warm breath rises to the roof of the dome, helped along by a strong wind from the north.
Bodies shiver, not prepared for the cold, either by biology or poor choice of clothing. The cold
seeps into their skin and their airways, tingling in the back of throats and giving all goosebumps.
No one, or at least no one's subconscious, wants to move. They want to huddle together for
warmth, stay put, and wait for better conditions. But this is a test. And they are heroes. And so,
they begin to move about.
"C'mon, let's head down to the foot of the mountain!" Hado suggests, pushing off the ground so
she's a few feet higher in the air. "The people need help!"
With quick affirmations, they follow her through the pack of people, down the slope, and all the
way to the edge of the closest town. All of the buildings, which are mostly one story homes and
businesses, are buried in a meter and a half of snow, the white precipitation having knocked over
signs, overturned cars, and broken windows. It's a scary sight, but Izuku keeps calm and analyzes
the situation.
"Help, help!" a young-sounding voice—it can't be more than six years old, which makes his
stomach churn—screeches into the air. "I can't find my grandpa!"
Izuku instantly zeroes in on the voice, finding that it's coming from a two story house that's
absolutely covered in snow halfway down the main road. He kicks off into the hair, covering the
distance in a flash. The voice continues to scream. "Help! Anyone! Someone, please find me!"
There's a window on the second floor that's shattered open, and from it the voice sounds. Izuku
floats up to it and, careful of broken glass, moves in. The sight is not a good one.
A little girl, probably six or seven, sits on the floor of a bedroom in a fetal position. Her hoodie is
wrapped around her, and her jeans look ripped to shreds. There are bits of broken glass in her leg,
and tears are streaming down her cheeks. Izuku has to remind himself that this is a simulation, and
the acting and costume are just that good.
"Hey there, miss," Izuku says, treading forward slowly and crouching just a bit to make himself
smaller. He puts on his best Nana smile. "Are you okay?" He kneels next to her, already reaching
for his belt of first-aid supplies.
"Papa..." The girl whimpers. "Where's Papa?"
Izuku forces his smile to stay and carefully wipes up some of the fake blood on her lower leg. The
shard of glass is in her leg pretty deep, but the cut isn't that big, and the object is keeping most of
the blood in. His first instinct is to pull it out, but that's wrong. It could have severed an artery, or
he could cut one as he removed it. Best to leave it in and have her be in pain for a while longer than
to pull it out and take the risk.
"Your papa is alright," Izuku soothes, checking her over for any more injuries. Other than some
bumps and bruises, she's fine. "My friends are looking for him right now. Are you cold? Can you
stand?"
The girl shivers. "I-I dunno," she hiccups. She tries to get her legs under her but lets out a pained
squeak and stops moving. "I c-can't." Her lips start to tremble, and Izuku feels his heart squeeze.
"It's okay." Izuku reaches out for her, gently placing one hand on the small of her back and the
other under her legs, careful of the glass. "I'm going to get you out of here, alright? There's people
waiting to take care of you. And your Grandpa will be there, too. Do you want some warmth?" The
girl nods slightly. "Okay, up we go."
With barely any effort, Izuku stands up, cradling her in his arms. Then, with a slight poke at One
for All, power seeps into his body. It warms his skin and suit, and the girl. She sighs into his chest,
pulling closer. Izuku smiles wider and walks over to the window. He begins to float out of it.
One for All doesn't enjoy small stuff like this, but Izuku's made sure it knows that it'll get more
action later, so as he descends through the air, there's not a peep from the usually active and
volatile Quirk. Izuku lands in the snow with a soft crunch and pushes more power into himself,
warming the girl even more.
"There you are," he whispers, half tempted to cradle her. "Nice and warm. I'll get you back to base,
and they'll fix you right up, okay?" The girl nods, and Izuku's heart melts.
Suddenly remembering that he rushed ahead, Izuku looked around for his friends. It's not that hard
to find them since they haven't moved from their spot since he entered the window. "Guys have
you seen… a… old man..?" He trails off, completely lost as to what to do.
Before him stand Hado, Togata, and Amajiki. That's completely expected and normal. What's not
normal are their expressions. The three of them share the same blank look, like they've seen
something and don't understand a thing about it. Their eyes are a bit foggy, too, like they can't
quite focus on anything, and is that drool coming out of the corner of Hado's lips? "... Are you
alright?" Izuku asks, worried. Because people don't just go foggy in the head without a good
reason.
Like his words are some kind of spell, the moment is broken. "Yup," Togata says, just a bit louder
and more enthusiastic than normal. "We're ay-okay, nothing unusual here, right guys?"
"... Yeah," Hado says, still a bit dazed. Amajiki, who's pink in the cheeks for some reason, elbows
her hard. "Er, I mean, yep! Tip-top shape!"
"Okay, well, I'm going to get her”—Izuku looks down and smiles at his little passenger, letting out
a small puff of warmth as well—"to a med station. I'll be back pretty quickly."
There's a chorus of yeses, but none of them can meet Izuku's eyes. Shrugging it off, he takes to the
air, flying carefully and making sure he doesn't disturb the girl's wound.
Flying low and at a decent pace, he reaches the spot where the briefing room is quickly enough. A
simple glance around shows that there's already a medical tent set up and people getting ready for
injured civilians. Izuku's little passenger is apparently the first one found.
Landing softly just outside the tent, Izuku walks forward. Ducking under the flap, he's hit with a
wave of warmth, and he scans the area. There are no cots, but rather raised bits of soft dirt with
plywood on top. Medical supplies sit in one corner, and heroes busy themselves with organizing
and cleaning.
"Um, I have a patient for you," Izuku speaks up, causing everyone to drop what they're doing and
rush over to him. The girl is swiftly pulled from his arms and laid out on a dirt and plywood table,
cared for by at least three heroes, who probably have healing Quirks. Izuku is taken aside by a
stern-looking boy with red hair and eyes dressed like an old-timey field medic.
"How did you get her back so fast?" he asks, looking impressed yet skeptical. "You couldn't've
gotten her here safely with a basic speed or enhancing ability."
"Oh, that's easy." Izuku smiles sheepishly. "I flew."
The boy blinks. Then, his expression screws into something fierce. "You've got a valuable ability
like that, and you wasted precious time on one civilian?!" he shrieks.
"I, um, uh, yes?" Izuku babbles out, taking an unsteady step back and holding his arms up in a
small form of surrender.
The guy looks like he wants to punt kick Izuku from the top of a building but quickly takes a deep
breath and calms down. "It's fine," he says in the very way that tells Izuku that it's not fine. "Just…
go to where the meeting area is. They'll get you an actual job. One that'll play to your strengths.
Leave the little stuff to the peons, okay? Now go make yourself useful!"
Izuku quickly leaves, scampering out of the medical tent with a quick wave and looking all over
for a group of people who look like they know what they're doing. It takes a second—everyone
seems to be running around like headless chickens for the time being—but he eventually spots a
girl standing on a raised platform pointing at people and shouting out orders.
"You, you, and you will look over the power lines on the east side of the city, and you five will go
to the west and do the same. I know a couple of you have some electric Quirks, and the rest of you
are there to help any victims in critical conditions," the girl orders. She's well-dressed for the cold,
with a big poofy coat and heavy-looking boots. Her hat denotes her as a Shiketsu student, which,
looking around, is something most of the crowd around her has in common. There are people from
Ketsubetsu, too, and other, smaller schools, but Izuku's the only one from U.A.
"Now, have we got any flying types?" the girl asks, scanning the crowd with a critical eye. Izuku
tentatively raises his hand, along with a handful of other people. The girl nods stiffly. "Not as many
as I want, but good enough. You four are in charge of scoping out the city. Get as high as you can,
and make sure to remember as many details as possible. Take pictures with your phones if you've
got 'em. Any other questions?" Seeing none, she says, "Perfect. Get to work!"
The crowd disperses, people breaking off into smaller groups and hurrying to do their jobs. Some
start to make more buildings, more start some fires to help keep the biting cold at bay, and even
more move down the slope to the city and towns below. But the only people Izuku really has eyes
for are the other fliers.
One of them, a tall, lean boy from Shiketsu, floats into the air, waving his arms above his head to
draw their attention. Izuku and the other two quickly rally to him, and they wordlessly descend to
talk more about their jobs.
"Right," the boy who gathered everyone says. His costume is black and accented with white
dustings that look like powdered sugar. His hat is lumpy and misshapen, with the school logo
peeling off. "How's everyone's cold tolerance, first of all. We can't do our thing if we freeze to
death."
"I'll be alright if I can keep moving," a girl with neatly folded brown wings says. Her costume is a
basic tactical design with a gold badge on her left shoulder representing a school Izuku doesn't
recognize.
"I won't be good more than a couple meters above the buildings, I'm afraid." Another girl
grimaces. She's from Ketsubetsu and wears a sleek-looking set of armor. "I'm just a normal person,
no fancy resistance or enhancements. This suit has a little insulation but not a lot."
"I'm in the same boat as you," the guy who called them over says. His costume is a bright red
bodysuit with a fancy-looking fur collar. "I'm already starting to shiver. What about you?"
"I'll be fine," Izuku says, seeing that they've all turned to him. "I can go as high as we need and stay
there for a while."
"Then that means that you two”—the boy in red gestures to the girl with wings and Izuku—“are
our main scouts. I'll stick low with her and get some closer looks at the more complicated areas.
You guys got phones?"
Izuku nods, but the winged girl shakes her head. "Left it in the lockers," she says.
"That's fine." The boy in red reaches into one of his many pockets and pulls out a cracked
cellphone. He tosses it to the girl. "Just turn it on and hit the little camera on the lockscreen, it's
intuitive from there. If I get a call from Beijing, don't answer it. They're calling about my car
insurance, and I haven't got the money. Let's fly!"
The four of them take off in near-perfect synchronization, taking the quickest route to the city.
They stick low to the ground, wanting to avoid the even greater chill and wind of the higher
altitudes and to preserve energy for a higher climb later on. It's still cold, though, and Izuku is
nearly blown off course by strong gusts of wind, and the air in his lungs is perpetually cold.
Luckily, he has his goggles, which keep his eyes safe and parts of his face warm. He slips his
respirator on, too, the steel cold on his cheeks but still better than his naked skin on freezing air.
They reach the edge of the city in about two minutes, landing on top of a multi story mall for a
quick breather. Then, it's right to scouting. Izuku and the winged girl climb high and then higher.
There's some idle chatter, though most of it is swept away by the wind or muffled by Izuku's
metallic mask.
The girl stops climbing before Izuku, leveling out and beginning to circle like a bird of prey,
carefully holding the lent phone in her hands. It's obvious that she's piecing together as much of the
city as possible before she starts to take pictures, which is smart. Izuku plans to do the same when
he stops climbing.
It takes a while, but he does stop eventually. The dome of the facility is ridiculously tall, tall
enough to make the air noticeably thinner at the very top of it. Izuku finds himself among hanging
lights and a large amount of industrial-grade air conditioners, along with the odd wind generator.
There are cameras up there, too, mostly pointing downwards, but one does swivel to look at him.
Carefully taking out his phone, Izuku gingerly angles himself to be parallel with the ground. From
way up here, he has a near one-to-one recreation of the map back in the briefing room. He traces
roads with his eyes, and, if he really squints, sees little dots that must be people. Izuku snaps
several pictures, wanting to get them just right. He notices that about three-quarters of the city is
covered in snow, which will definitely be a problem for the rescue efforts.
He descends a bit once he's done, wanting to get some more detailed pictures. Izuku mostly
focuses on the worst parts of the area, zooming in on collapsed city blocks and buried towns. It's a
sobering sight, really. This level of destruction is only seen on the news and in movies. But Izuku
tells himself that this is still a test, and that everything is fine, and keeps working.
Izuku wraps it up after a couple of minutes, mostly due to the overwhelming number of pictures on
his phone. If he takes any more, there could be trouble sorting through them all, which isn't what
they need right now.
Securing his phone and taking a deep breath, he lets a manic smile play on his lips. He gives One
for All a firm poke, letting it know that something fun is going to happen. Then, before he can
chicken out, he points downwards and turns Float off. It's probably not according to regulation, but
it is a quick way to get down.
Rocketing to the earth with a whoop of joy, Izuku lets his Quirk do what it wants, just for a
moment. Whips spring from his back, trailing behind him like steamers and writhing with
liveliness. Adrenaline pumps through his veins, making his senses sharper and his heart beat faster.
Despite his rush, Izuku's in control. He can pull out of the dive any time he likes. But without
Float, or even a substantial amount of energy to reinforce his body, Izuku still feels that slight edge.
Like he could be in danger, or he could get hurt. One for All enjoys it too, crying out in joy and
relishing the dangerous freedom.
He stops free falling eventually. Having gotten too close to the ground, he pours as much power
into him as his body can handle. Izuku activates Float, ignoring his aching muscles. It's easy;
there's nothing more exhilarating or freeing than a free fall. Gradually slowing down, Izuku makes
sure to curve so he doesn't have to make any sharp movements. Going from sixty to zero in a half
second generates enough joules to kill a person—it's the main reason why those old comic book
saves where the hero catches a pretty girl falling from a burning building aren't possible.
Now at a much lower altitude, Izuku dashes off to the starting hill. It's a bigger target now, with
more structures and some civilians. He touches down where he took off and starts to look around
the area. There are five medical tents now, all of them neatly made and with red crosses on the
side. There are earthen buildings, too, short, squat things with small entrances and small chimneys
that pour smoke into the sky. Passing by one, Izuku sees that there are civilians in them, taking
shelter from the cold and reconnecting with lost loved ones.
But the most important area, at least to Izuku, is the command area. Raised up a good five feet
from the ground, three people stand, giving orders and debating the best course of action. A
makeshift flag is there, too, a simple piece of steel rebar with a hot pink strip of cloth tied to the
end.
Psyching himself up, Izuku walks right to the raised bit of earth, pulling out his phone and hitting
the photo application.
"... Town C is mostly clear of snow already, civs have been evacuated and are being sheltered.
That means we can move onto Town D." A boy with slicked-back brown hair paces back and forth,
fiddling with a set of keys in his hands. He's one of the leaders, apparently, having a hot pink sash
around his torso and most everyone's attention.
"But Town D is basically untouched," a person from the crowd of heroes speaks up. "I checked it
out, only one building is down. They don't have power, but the people are making their way here
now."
The boy with the sash grimaces. "That just leaves the city, but we don't have any good info yet!
Some people have poked at the edges, but we don't know how stable the buildings are. Where's the
recon team?"
"Er, I'm right here," Izuku says, as loudly as he dares. Everyone's attention is instantly on him, and
the boy with the pink sash skinks over.
"You're part of the recon team," he says. He looks at Izuku's phone, which is tightly clutched in his
hands. "How come you're the first one back?"
"I guess I'm the fastest," Izuku says, tapping his phone so the screen doesn't go dark. "Um, here."
He holds out the device, which displays a picture of the city from a birds-eye view. The other boy
looks at it for a moment before waving someone over.
"Cece, I need you," he says. Another person, probably from the same school, hurries over. They
gingerly take Izuku's phone in their hands and look at it seriously. Their eyes begin to glow, one
white, one black. Out of the white eye comes a beam of light, which displays what's on Izuku's
phone like a projector. They quickly skim through the pictures before handing Izuku's phone back.
There's a lot of talking after that. People take close looks at the pictures Izuku took and argue about
how to help, if it's even worth the effort to clear the snow, and how they'd do such a thing.
Throughout it all, Izuku just kind of stands back and waits, not sure if he should be doing
something.
"Fine. Anyone who can melt snow, raise your hand!" the boy with the sash orders. By now, about
half of the heroes are present, the others either tending to the injured or out looking for more
people to save in the not snowed in parts of the city.
About forty people raise their hands and quickly gather into one group. "Good. Now we've gotta
get you guys to the other side of the city. How many fliers and jumpers are there? Anyone who can
clear that mountain of snow, raise your hand." Less people do this time, about fifteen. Among them
are the people Izuku scouted the city with and Hado, who's been waving and making funny faces at
Izuku for the past five minutes.
"Assuming that they can each carry one person over to the snow, it's not enough," someone says.
"We can make multiple trips, but what about moving them around in there? One flying type can't
manage four snow-melters."
"I can," Izuku speaks up.
"How many can you haul?"
"Eight, maybe sixteen if they don't mind being close," Izuku informs. "Even more if they can hold
onto me."
The boy with the pink sash raises an eyebrow. His eyes flick over Izuku's form. "M'kay.
Respectfully, I call bullshit. There's no way you can carry twenty people at the same time, let alone
fly with them."
"No, he can!" Hado's voice calls, easily floating over the crowd of teenage heroes. "I go to school
with him. I've seen him do it in class!"
The boy looks over the crowd, then shrugs. "Alright, cool. Just don't drop them, yeah? We all want
to pass this thing."
The ice melters and fliers quickly meet up, forming a loose circle. No one's quite sure of what to
do, and they kind of awkwardly wait for someone to take charge. Eventually, someone does.
"So, everyone who's going to carry should find someone they can hold comfortably," Hado speaks
up, holding her hand up with a raised index finger. "We don't want to risk dropping anyone, so pick
someone much smaller than you. Deku, you take the biggest ones, got it?"
It takes Izuku a second to realize that Hado's talking to him, but he nods quickly when he does. It's
weird hearing that name out loud in such a cheerful and happy way. It makes him feel good, like he
could fly as high as he wants and never come back down. "Got it!"
Everyone quickly pairs up, double and triple-checking that the people being carried won't be
dropped and the people who will be carrying them won't lose grip. Every flier has one person to
carry, though one particularly large boy has two. In the end, Izuku is left with the fourteen largest
people, who are all big and burly and probably lift weights as often as he does. They all look at
him skeptically, which Izuku can't blame them for. Even with his recent mini growth spurt, he's
still barely five foot seven, maybe five eight on a good day. But he'll prove them wrong.
"Is everyone else ready?" Izuku asks, directing his question at Hado. The older girl nods.
"Yep. We're just waiting on you to do your thing," she says, adjusting her hold on the smaller girl
she's holding piggyback style.
"Alright." Izuku nods, looking at the people he's to carry. Kicking off into the air a bit, he prepares
to let Blackwhip out. "Brace yourselves," he warns. "It might be a bit tight at first, and I can't
exactly be gentle." They all kind of look at each other, unsure of whether to be worried or amused.
Then, Izuku activates the power and grabs.
Eight of the biggest tendrils he can manage erupt from his back, two more from each arm, and one
from each of his legs. They wrap his cargo up in a flash, securing them under the arms and
wrapping around their torsos. "Sorry," Izuku says, noting their slightly uncomfortable and shocked
expressions. "That was kind of sudden. Are you guys alright?"
The general consensus is a yes, which is great. Someone makes a rather lewd joke that makes
Izuku go red all the way down his neck, which isn't fine, but he can live with it. But with one last
check over, everyone in the snow-melting party takes off into the sky.
They don't go high, however. Safety is a top priority, and the last thing Izuku wants to do is drop
someone from a hundred feet up at a government-stationed test. They don't go fast either, for the
same reason and to preserve the energy of some of the flying people.
Once their whole group reaches the city, they break off into chunks. Some go to one side of the
city, others to the opposite. Hado is near the edge of it all, using her waves to clear out larger
chunks of snow while keeping an eye on the others around her in case they need to be moved
somewhere else. Izuku, though, is right in the thick of it. In charge of watching fourteen snow-
melters, he floats around rapidly, trying to see as many of them as he can at once. The fact that
they're all on different buildings and streets doesn't help, and he ends up flying around for a while.
Melting the snow is a slow process. They have to work from the top up to prevent a collapse, and
they have to make sure they don't damage any more buildings. They do make progress, however,
and Izuku even gets the job of carrying some people out of buildings to a prearranged spot where
they'd be picked up by more heroes and taken to the camp.
It's after one such civilian extraction that Izuku finds himself on top of a shorter building, watching
a girl with a fire Quirk work her way down the side of another building. Watching her work is
almost entrancing. Something about the shape of the flames and their rich, orange hue enthralls
him. But at the same time, it's dissatisfying. She's not working as efficiently as possible, having to
redo certain parts and missing bits of the frozen ice in certain areas. He's half tempted to point it
out, but who's he to do so? He doesn't have a fire Quirk. He's not her. There's no reason to be so
rude. It's best to let the girl do her job. She's probably older than him, anyways, and definitely has
more experience with fire.
That's his thought process anyway, and Izuku gets so lost in his own internal monologue that he
misses how dangerously the building leans. He doesn't notice how the foundation cracks, web-like
crevices forming up the side of the brick walls. But he does hear it. He hears the awful snap as
brick tears away from the mortar.
Instantly, his brain goes into action mode. On reflex, he casts a hand out, grabbing the girl with the
fire Quirk with a swift strand of Blackwhip and pulling her to him, to safety. Then, he kicks off into
the air, spreading his arms as wide as possible and conjuring as much power as he can, pouring it
into Blackwhip.
Strands upon strands burst forth, first ten, then twenty, then fifty, a hundred. They wrap around the
building like a cacoon, holding on for dear life. "Fuck!" Izuku can't help but curse, because it hurts
so bad. It feels like a million worms are tearing through his muscles, clawing their way out with no
care for anything other than their desire to be free. But he can't let go.
There could be HUC members in that building. People who are there to help Izuku and everyone
else be better heroes. He can't let them die just because he's in a little bit of pain. So Izuku pulls
back with all of his might, throwing Float and One for All's enhanced strength into the effort. No
matter what, he will not let the building go.
"H-h-holy shit," a voice stutters from behind him. It sounds panicked.
"G-go get help!" Izuku orders, gritting his teeth. He snarls through the pain. "I don't know how
long I can hold this!" He doesn't dare look back to see if she does as he says. Every fiber of his
being is focused on holding on, and a moment's distraction could mean the end of a life.
In the back of his mind, One for All is screaming right along with him, though for a different
reason. It pounds at his skull. You can't do this! You'll be ripped to pieces! Clearly, it wants him to
let go. It makes sense, really. If Izuku hurts himself too badly with the Quirk then it won't be used
for a while. But he can't let go, so One for All changes tactics. It starts to encourage him,
screaming at him to hold strong. It's almost touching, and Izuku would feel a new kinship with the
odd power if he wasn't biting back curses of pain.
But nonetheless, he starts to smile, wide and manic. It hurts. God, does it hurt. He's scared. God, is
he scared. But the best way to deal with those awful, awful things is to smile, wide and bright.
After all, how can things be okay if you can't smile? And so, with all of his might, he holds, never
once losing his smile.
Help does arrive. Izuku doesn't know how long it takes, but it feels fast enough. Some people
crowd around him, flying alongside and holding him up. Others shout encouragement from the
surrounding areas. But most of them rush to the building, combing through it as fast as possible for
any forms of life. Then they do the building next to it, too, just to be safe. And then, when every
soul is safe from the destruction, Izuku finally drops his whips.
Sweaty and exhausted, he collapses into the waiting arms of however many people. Someone
pours a bit of water in his mouth. Another forces him to eat a power bar. Someone else wipes the
sweat from his brow. They carry him over to a flat rooftop and lay him out. By some divine
miracle, Izuku's costume is intact, though a bit rough around the edges. No one's quite sure what to
do with him for a while. Then Hado shows up.
She immediately does a full inspection, finding that his chest is heavily bruised and that his ribs are
probably cracked. Very gingerly, she holds him, bridal style with extra power added to her muscles
through clever use of her Quirk. It takes Izuku a second to realize that it's a technique he helped her
come up with.
As they start to fly off to the safe zone, Hado looks down at him. She looks surprisingly angelic
from Izuku's angle, with hair framing her face and the light perfectly hitting her facial features.
Izuku feels warm despite the biting cold.
"You know, there was only one person in those buildings," she says, a little amused. "Midoriya,
only you would break yourself apart for a single soul."
"It was worth it, though," he says back, more than a little pained. "I couldn't just let them go."
Hado nods, smiling bright. Her hair brushes against Izuku's face. It smells of apples. "Yeah, I
know. It was really badass, too. A whole building, Midoriya. A whole freakin' building!"
Izuku grins, dopey and wide, because holy shit he held up a building. "Yeah, I bet it was."
Chapter End Notes
Oh? What's this? A chapter two days after the last one? Why yes it is. For whatever
reason, I had a snow day today, which means I wrote a lot more then usual, which
means you guys get another chapter. Also, I feel like I should stop saying what the
next chapter is going to be or what will be in it, because it just always turns out to be
lie. That being said the next one will end the PLE. *crosses fingers*
No, but seriously, thanks for all the kind comments on the last one. It makes me happy
to see people who were there when I first uploaded this project of mine still actively
commenting. You know who you are. Cheers!
Licence to Hero pt. 3
Chapter Notes
As of April 5, 2021 this chapter has been edited and reformated by my beta flauel.
"Problem Child."
Izuku's eyes instantly dart over to the door of his hospital room, drinking in the sight of an
exhausted-looking Aizawa and an inversely cheerful Present Mic. He'd been escorted (or more like
carried) out of the testing area soon after returning to the base of operations and looked over by a
mob of in-house medical professionals. They've mostly healed him by now—with a host of healing
Quirks, it wasn't hard—but there's some lingering pain, particularly comfortable in his ribs.
"Hello, sir," Izuku greets, straightening up. He winces a bit as a sharp stab of pain shoots through
his lower abdomen. He eases back onto the pillows. Maybe he's less healed than he thought. "How
are the others doing? Did I fail?"
Aizawa sighs heavily and drags a chair to Izuku's bedside. He sits and looks carefully at his
student, eyeing the tight bindings across his chest and the plaster around his stomach. "Of course
that's the first thing you'd ask," he mutters. Behind him, Present Mic snorts.
"Give him some slack, Sho. He's been away from his friends for a while." The blond man takes his
own chair and sits to Aizawa's left. "They're fine, listener," Mic continues. "The judges are grading
the results right now, but I spoke with a rep from the Commission a little bit ago. You passed the
rescue portion with honours. Good job, kid."
"Don't praise him when he ends up in the hospital," Aizawa grumbles. "He'll get a nasty habit out
of it."
"Please, he's not Pavlov's Cat," Mic shakes his head. "You know that this is a bad thing, right,
Midoriya?"
"I guess?" Izuku gingerly raises a sore arm to scratch his neck. "But I saved that person in the
building, so it was worth it."
Aizawa shoots Mic a dirty look at that and gets a playful elbow to the arm back. "Hizashi's
immaturity aside—" "Hey!" "—this isn't good. You overdid yourself, which, while the
circumstances make it admirable on a surface level, can't become a regular thing. I read your
diagnostic, and—"
"Midoriya!" Togata bursts into the room, trailed closely by Hado and Amajiki. The boys look
worried and frantic, but Hado seems to know that it's all under control. Not that it stops her from
crowding around Izuku with the rest of them. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," Izuku says, slipping on a reassuring smile. "I just put a little too much power into it,
and, well." He gestures vaguely to himself. "I didn't break any limbs this time, which is great! And
the doctors here patched me up quick!"
"You are not fine," Aizawa cuts in. "You cracked all of your ribs, which is something I never heard
of happening before today. You fractured both of your collarbones, cracked your sternum, and
pulled and tore most of your upper body muscles."
"At least I didn't break any of my arms?" Izuku tries weakly. When all of his injuries are listed out
like that, it sounds awful. But he didn't pass out, so it couldn't've been that bad, right?
"I'm calling Recovery Girl about this," Aizawa says, looking like he very desperately wants to
repeatedly slam his head on a hard object.
"No, wait, please!" Izuku begs, shooting forward. "You can't do that to—ow!" He whimpers,
collapsing back into the soft pile of pillows behind him, clutching his chest.
In less than a second, there are multiple hands on his shoulders and back, holding him steady and
providing gentle touches. "Take it easy, man," Togata says, patting his arm. "You broke pretty
much everything holding up that building. You deserve some rest."
"If you keep moving now, it'll just be worse later," Amajiki adds, retracting his hand which was
pinned by Izuku's shoulder. "Just don't do anything."
"Do you need something? I'm sure I could find a nurse or someone. Painkillers? Water? Food?"
Hado asks, already heading for the door.
"I'm fine, guys, really," Izuku says, trying to shrug off the pain. "It's not that bad. Just a little
tender, that's all. I don't need anything, honest."
"He's lying, you know," a smooth and aged voice says from the doorway. Six pairs of eyes flick
over to see an average-looking middle-aged man dressed as a doctor, with scrubs, a surgical mask
hanging around his neck, and goggles pushed up to his brow. "If he'd held that building up for any
longer, there could've been some real permanent damage. He'll be fine, of course, but only after a
couple more rounds of healing Quirks. Right now, I'm surprised he's able to move."
"We'll make sure he doesn't go anywhere," Aizawa says, looking directly at Izuku. "He's smart
enough to know that overexerting himself is harmful in the long run."
"Yes, I'm sure. But." The doctor pulls out a wheeled desk chair from a nearby table. He sits in it
comfortably, resting a leg on top of the other. "The boy has options."
"What kind of options?" Present Mic asks, sounding suspicious. "If they don't involve Midoriya
laying in bed for the next couple of hours, then you can forget about it."
The doctor sighs. "I'm the wrong man to voice your grievances to. I only know what they tell me,
and they tell me that Midoriya has a decision to make." He very carefully looks Izuku in the eye.
"You can either rest here, get healed up, and finish the test at a later date, or we can heal you as
best we can right now and have you finish up today."
Aizawa scoffs. "The choice is obvious. You can go tell your higher ups that—"
"Could you elaborate?" Izuku interrupts. He gains several aghast looks for it, but he holds firm. "I
want to know as much as I can before I pick."
The doctor shakes his head in exasperation. "I'll never get teenagers," he grumbles. "If you choose
to finish the test later, then you'll just show up here at a prearranged time and take a custom test.
The judges are already impressed with how you performed, so it'll probably be easy. But"—the
man shakes his head as he speaks—"if you choose to keep going today, then you'll face down what
everyone else will. You won't be in top form, either. You'll definitely have some bruised ribs, sore
muscles, and a fair amount of fatigue. I suggest you pick the right option."
"I need some time to think about it," Izuku says, looking down at his hands and bandaged chest. "If
that's not too much to ask."
"Fine." The doctor stands. "I'll clear out for the time being. You've got five minutes. Any longer
and you'll stall the test."
"Thank you."
There's a whole five seconds of uncomfortable, stifling silence after the door clicks shut. Izuku
braces himself for the flurry of questions, trying to come up with a decision and ways to defend it
at the same time. But nothing comes. There's only silence. Then—
"You can't possibly be thinking about doing the combat test while injured," Amajiki says,
awkwardly tugging on his sleeves. "It's just too much, right?"
"He's got a point, kid," Mic agrees. "You shouldn't be worrying about the test right now. Think
about your recovery instead. You even have an easier option to choose."
"Yeah, there's no reason for you to pick the harder option, Midoriya," Togata says. "Us three can
pass alright, and then you'll just be a week behind. It's no big deal."
"They're right," Hado voices her opinion. "The only big deal right now is that you need to get
better."
"We don't know what's on the test." Izuku shakes his head, looking at his sheets with a neutral
expression.
"So?" Aizawa says, monotone. "What's your point?"
"No matter what, UA will be crushed, almost immediately," Izuku says, blunt as a club. "If I had to
guess, only the top three or four schools or teams will be allowed to pass. They won't make us fight
on our own—that'd be impossible to grade—so they'll either give us teams or let us fight with who
we want."
"That doesn't explain why UA will be crushed," Hado points out. "Why us? There's a lot of weaker
people than us here right now."
"It doesn't matter how strong we are," Izuku explains. "When you pick a fight, what's the first thing
you think about?"
"What I know about my opponent," Togata answers. "How they think, how they move, their power
—that kind of stuff."
"Exactly. And what school has a festival showing off its hero students for all the world to see?"
Izuku locks eyes with everyone in turn. "We're the logical first target. Small, recognizable, and
with widely-known combat abilities. If we stick together, we'll be hit from every angle. If we're on
teams with new people, we'll still be singled out. There's no way we won't be targeted."
"But you can avoid that," Aizawa points out. "Just take the test they give you, and you'll be fine."
"I could," Izuku agrees. "But I don't want to sit back and let my friends go through that when I
could've helped. I might not even make a difference in the test, but I want to be down there with
you." He locks eyes with Hado, Togata, and Amajiki, one after the other. He's made his choice.
Hopefully they understand.
"Bravo, bravo!" a new, gravelly voice says, crossing the threshold and clapping their hands
together. They all look over to see a man clad in a sloppy business suit with greasy-looking hair
slicked back into a ponytail and an unlit cigarette hanging from his fingers. There's a briefcase at
his feet, and his smile is plastered on, much too bright to be genuine. "What a true hero you are,
young man," he continues, picking up his case and walking further into the room. Izuku's friends
noticeably draw closer to him, which is confusing and comforting at the same time.
"Er, thank you, sir," Izuku greets. "Um, why are you—"
"I'm here to apologize on behalf of my betters," the man says, unashamed. He holds up the
briefcase, which pops open to show a small TV screen inside. It crackles to life and shows a
remarkably good still image. "This, in all honesty, shouldn't have happened." The man points to the
screen, which starts to move. The briefcase shows Izuku carefully watching the girl with the fire
Quirk as she melts the snow off of the building. There's no audio, but Izuku can tell when the
building starts to crack because the girl freezes up. The Izuku on screen jumps into action not a
second later, casting a whip out and pulling the girl back before jumping up off the building. Then,
the whips come.
Like an unholy combination of ropes and snakes, they rip from his body, tear through his suit, and
grab the building. Some are long enough to reach the top floor and the bottom level, while others
wrap around the closest part of the building. Every inch of Izuku's body from the neck down seems
to be emitting a strand or two of Blackwhip. It's almost gross with how many of them there are, and
the look on his face is anything but pleasant. And then Izuku gets it, or at least he thinks he does.
This shouldn't have happened. The building wasn't supposed to collapse, and Izuku wasn't
supposed to be able to lift the whole thing.
"It's a miracle, really," the man says, folding up his briefcase and tucking it under his arm. His tone
has changed from before, more serious. "That man inside the building is very lucky to be alive, and
so are you, if the doctors here are correct. Speaking of, you two can come in now!"
The doctor from earlier soon walks in, eyeing the cigarette in the sleazy man's hand like it
personally hurt someone in his family. Behind the doctor, another man walks in, this one big and
tall and distinctly European, with thick blond hair and a short blond beard and wearing a
stereotypical lumberjack outfit.
"Is that the boy?" the lumberjack asks, looking at Izuku with a guarded expression.
"Yes, sir, it is," the sleazy man confirms, reaching into the pocket of his suit jacket and pulling out
a tin cigarette case. He puts the unlit one back, looking right at the doctor, who straightens up
confidently.
"Okay," the lumberjack (which is a really awful thing to call someone mentally, but Izuku can't
think of anything else right now) says. Then, he drops to his knees in a full kowtow, forehead
kissing the floor. "You… you saved my life. For that, I am forever thankful. If I'd have died, my
wife, my kids…" He sobs into the floor, loud and choked. "They… just, thank you, so much. If you
ever need anything, please, find me. I'll repay you!"
"That's not necessary!" Izuku quickly reassures. He wants to get out of his bed and help the man up
from the floor, but his bandages and friends will definitely stop him, so he has to settle for helping
him while lying back. "I'm very happy I helped you, but I was doing what a hero should. I don't
need anything from you."
The man looks up from the floor, eyes red and wet with tears. "Are you sure?" he asks, rising to his
knees.
"Yep," Izuku says with a smile. "Seeing you alive and safe is all the payment I need."
"Thank you," the man says, standing up and walking closer to Izuku's bed. "But I can't just let you
leave with nothing." He pulls out his wallet, and Izuku gets ready to deny whatever money he gives
him, but instead of cash, a business card is held up instead. "I run a car rental service—HUC stuff
is just my side gig. If you ever need a ride for a couple of days, just give that number a call,
alright?"
Izuku opens his mouth, still intent on denying, but he's beaten to the punch. "Thank you, sir,"
Togata says, gently taking the card from the taller man's hand. "I'll hold onto it for him, okay? He
can't exactly put it in pocket right now."
"Of course." The tall man nods. He extends a hand to Izuku to shake, before quickly retracting it,
seeing that the boy's arms are heavily bandaged. "Sorry, my bad. Just a reflex."
"No, no, it's fine." Izuku laughs, extending one of his arms. "They don't hurt that bad, and the
wrapping is there to keep it from swelling. Just be careful, okay? I don't want my hand to be
crushed."
The man nods and gingerly takes Izuku's hand in both of his own, slowly moving it up and down
before releasing it. "Thank you again," he says quickly. "My family thanks you too, even if they
don't know yet. I… I know you'll be a great hero one day."
"How touching," the sleazy man says from his spot near the door. "Sir, you will receive checks in
the mail from both the Heroes Public Safety Commission and the Help Us Company. Mr.
Midoriya, you have the choice of a check from the HPSC or a free-of-charge study of your Quirk."
"A study of my Quirk?" Izuku asks, interested yet cautious.
"Yep," the man says, taking an uncomfortably large step forward. "The people at most Quirk
registries aren't exactly at the forefront of modern Quirk science, so the specs of your power aren't
well-known. Why, the name of your Quirk barely fits! Anyways, if you like, you can come into our
main office and be evaluated by professionals with decades of experience. By the end of the
process, you'll know exactly what your Quirk is." The man's eyes gleam as he speaks, and Izuku
gets an uncomfortable feeling in the back of his neck. Somehow, he knows that the deal the man's
offering wouldn't be good for him.
"Ah, no thanks, I think," Izuku says, trying to sound as casual as possible. "I mean, I'll have to
check with my mom, but if you have to give me anything, I'd rather it be the money. I already have
a good handle on my Quirk, so…"
"I see." The sleazy man cocks his head just ever so slightly. "Well, then, I best be off," he says
suddenly, looking at the man Izuku saved. "Let's get you out of here, sir. I'm sure you're still in
shock. Bye, Midoriya. I'll make sure to check in with your principal about details. And goodbye to
you too, doctor!" The man waves as he exits, the door clicking shut behind him.
"I hate that guy," the doctor grumbles. "No respect for anything that doesn't make him money." No
one directly responds, everyone much too busy with their own thoughts to say anything back.
"Anyways, boy, have you decided? Today or later?"
"Today," Izuku says with barely a thought. "I'll make sure to take it easy," he adds, seeing all the
disappointed looks he gets.
"Very well," the doctor sighs, standing up from his seat. He looks at Izuku very seriously. "I hope
you have a plan. I'll be back soon with more healers."
As soon as the man walks out, Aizawa speaks. "That was a bad choice," he says. "I have half the
mind to stop them from healing you."
Izuku only smiles, lips thin and in a wry line. "Plus Ultra."
[x]
"You shouldn't be doing this," Nejire says, carefully watching as Midoriya stretches his muscles.
He's been healed up as good as possible by a dozen certified Quirk doctors, which the testing
facility just has on hand, but he's still not at one hundred percent. Not that you can tell by looking at
him. Midoriya has his 'I can do it!' smile on and doesn't even flinch as he works parts of his body
that were broken minutes earlier.
"I told you guys, I'm fine," Midoriya says, bending down to touch the floor of the waiting room
with the palms of his hands. Then he goes the extra mile and starts to walk them forward, gradually
lowering himself. "I'm just a bit tired is all, nothing I can't handle. Those doctors that healed me
are some of the most well-known in their field." He starts to walk his hands backwards, all the way
until his head is in between his knees. It's a display of flexibility that Nejire struggles to produce on
a regular basis, and he's doing it with bruised ribs. Plus Ultra indeed.
"You should still take it easy, though," Togata says, wearing his 'You need help' smile. It's usually
reserved for Amajiki when the shy boy is struggling with his people skills, but it's definitely
warranted here. "Aizawa said you gotta stick to under twenty percent to avoid strain and that fancy
tricks aren't allowed."
"I know," Midoriya says, exactly like Nejire does when someone says something that's not fun in
the slightest. He starts to lean over backwards, raising his hands above his head to do a full bridge,
which he's done pretty often. It looks hard when he does it normally—the human body has its
limits and all—but now it has to be impossible for him.
No one will ever know, though, because Amajiki carefully rests a hand on Midoriya's shoulder,
stopping the boy from literally bending over backwards. "I'm pretty sure Mr. Aizawa would count
this as a fancy trick," he says.
Midoriya pouts, pouts, which he almost never does, but he also stops trying to snap himself in half,
which is good. "It's not that fancy. I do it every day for my warm up."
Nejire can't help but snort at that. "It might be normal for you, but do you think Aizawa does
advanced yoga every day? And isn't that just a fun thing to imagine? Picture Mr. Aizawa in yoga
pants with his hair in a ponytail as he tries to do a forearm stand."
Togata and Midoriya laugh, and Amajiki cracks a smile, because the scruffy-looking teacher seems
like the type to, well, maybe not hate, but definitely not participate in stuff like yoga. Though he
definitely works out—there's no way he and the other teachers at U.A don't. Speaking of, how do
they pick who teaches at U.A? It must be really hard, but, like, how exac—
"Hado," Togata asks, and Nejire stops thinking for a moment to look at him. "Midoriya asked you a
question."
"Oh, sorry!" Nejire says, smiling and spinning a lock of her hair around a finger. "I was thinking.
What did you say?"
"I was wondering if you did yoga or something like that," Midoriya says, looking at her curiously.
"Eh, kinda." Nejire raises her hand and makes a so-so gesture. "I do what you do, which is stretch a
lot. I'm not that flexible, but I have good balance so I can do some really weird poses. I think it's
from flying, but I'm not sure."
"It probably is," Midoriya agrees. "I know I got much better at keeping my balance once I started
flying a lot."
There's a knock at the door right then, cutting off any chance for a response. It opens without
anyone saying anything, which is rather rude, but then again this isn't Nejire's house and they're not
changing or anything.
Through the door walks an average (which means boring, because there's just so much style you
can have nowadays, so why would anyone choose to just have boring hair?) man in a basic suit.
"It's time," he says, barely looking at them. "Head out." Then he leaves, presumably to go get some
other test-takers.
"Well that was rude," Nejire says anyway, standing up straighter and shaking her legs a bit to warm
them up. A pair of spirals start to glow from her feet. Floating around everywhere is so much better
than walking. She wonders why Midoriya doesn't do it himself.
"Let's get going," Togata says, already walking through the door. "We don't want to be late!"
The walk through the halls is interesting. There are a lot of people there, all of them with the same
goal in mind. There are less than there was at the first briefing, though. Some people must've
failed, which is kind of hard to understand. Nejire gets that not everyone is amazing, but the
previous test was made easy by the quick organization of jobs. All someone had to do was find a
person in authority and follow them. Maybe it was based on how productive they were? Nejire saw
a bunch of people standing around not doing anything. But then again they could've been taking a
break. But then again again, they were taking a break while Midoriya held up a building and
Togata dove headfirst into snowbanks to search for people.
"May I have everyone's attention?" A calm and clear voice fills the room, assisted by a microphone
and several loud speakers. The briefing area is the same as the last one, only smaller and with
massive doors that lead outside and let the cool air in. Nejire subconsciously slinks closer to her
friends, seeking extra warmth.
"Excellent. You can't see me, but rest assured, I can see you," the voice continues. "First off,
congratulations on passing the rescue portion. It wasn't easy, so hopefully this next part will be
manageable for you. Now, onto the specs. Would the top scorer from each school please make
their way to the stage?" There's a murmur as people try to figure out who got the best grade. "If
there's a tie, just play rock paper scissors for it," the voice adds, trying to expedite the process.
"I didn't see the grades," Midoriya says, gaining their attention. "Which one of you guys is it?"
Togata laughs at that, which is fair, but it goes over Midoriya's head. "Wait, you really don't
know?" the blond boy asks.
Midoriya shakes his head. "No."
"Well, who could it be?" Nejire asks, placing a finger on the bottom of her chin in mock curiosity.
"Amajiki did pretty good. He ran civilians back to safety and took med supplies to the danger zones
the whole time. It was pretty cool, and a lot of the other test takers were really grateful that he was
there. Or maybe…"
"Hado, don't," Amajiki says, in the way that tells Nejire that it won't be the end of the world if she
does, but it'll definitely be sort of funny.
"Or maybe," Nejire continues, a bit louder. "It's the guy who held up a whole building."
"Oh," Midoriya says, stunned. "Oh," he says again, cheeks coloring pink just enough to make his
freckles that much more noticeable.
"Yeah," Nejire nods. "It's you." Midoriya looks speechless, tongue-tied, and a dozen other
adjectives that make it impossible for him to talk, so Nejire helps him out a bit with a playful swat
to the arm. "Go up there, man! You've got this."
With a less than usual amount of babbling, Izuku makes his way up to the stage at the front of the
room. He stands with the representatives from all the other schools, his nervous bouncing out of
place among the schooled expressions of the others.
"Excellent," the voice says, quelling the murmurs. "Now have any of you ever played bingo?" Not
a word is said back, and the voice lets out a disgruntled sigh. "Why do I even bother? Just look at
the center of the stage." There's a hydraulic hiss, and a bit of the stage starts to rise up, about a foot
and a half squared. On top of the raised bit is a glass ball full of ping pong balls.
"Would the person representing Argo's School for Young Heroes please step towards the glass
ball?" A tall girl in a white tank top steps up, approaching as ordered. When she gets within two
paces of it, the ball starts to spin violently, shaking up the ping pong balls with an awful lot of
clacking. "Reach in and grab one, please." The girl obeys, pulling one out. "What does it say?"
"Area B, section five," the girl says aloud.
"That is the starting area for your school," the voice explains. "Each representative will take a ball
and be assigned a starting area. You'll all be taken to your spots and, when the time starts, you'll be
allowed to fight. The top four schools will be passing today; the remaining twenty will not. Please
note that to pass, your school must eliminate two others. If too many schools pass that threshold
then there'll be tie breakers. Would the representative from Cara's Heroine College draw?"
The whole process takes about thirty minutes, with students drawing, reading their starting points
out loud, then walking off stage. U.A is last, which means Midoriya is all alone on stage when his
turn comes. As he walks across the platform, muttering breaks out, even more than before. Word
has spread about what he did, which isn't at all shocking. Nejire would talk anyone's ear off if she
saw a boy she barely knew hold up a building.
"I heard it was ten stories," one says.
"No, more like three, maybe four."
"Weren't there people inside?"
"Yeah, just one guy. God, can you imagine how scary that is?"
"There's no way a second year did that. He's gotta be a senior."
"But he's so small? How can he be that strong?"

"He's gotta have All Might type strength to do that. There's no way anyone else could."
"He looks so shy, though. It's kind of weird."
The glass ball finally stops spinning, which is weird that it was spinning in the first place because
there's only one ball left. Midoriya waits until it stops moving around and sticks his hand in, pulling
it out.
"Area A, section two," Midoriya says, loud and clear. Beside Nejire, a group of Shiketsu boys
starts to laugh.
"They're right by us!" one says. "Easy pickings."
"Damn right, there's only four of them!"
"They're all really quick, though. We'll have to play it quick and smart."
"That's enough chatter, thank you," the voice says, cutting into all the noise. To Nejire's left,
Midoriya slips back into their group, flashing a smile before returning his attention to whoever's
speaking. "Thank you. Now, your transports are outside and clearly marked. You are free to go."
Everyone quickly exits the briefing room, pushing and shoving their way to the doors. Once
they're outside, they hop in their transports, which are just buses painted bright green with black
characters labeling them. The ride over is quick, too, though only because the bus driver floors it
the whole way. In fifteen short minutes, the four of them stand on top of a six story office building,
looking down at forty-odd leering Shiketsu students.
"The countdown will now begin," the voice says, sounding much more official now. Maybe it's
because it's being broadcasted all over the facility.
"Ten."
"So, what's the plan?"
"Nine."
"Well, all of them are going to rush right for us, first thing."
"Eight."
"That sounds awful."
"Seven."
"Cheer up, it'll be fine! We've got a plan. Right?"
"Six."
"I've got a few, but they all happen after the initial chaos."
"Five."
"Initial chaos?"
"Four."
"More like inevitable chaos."
"Three."
"No, but, seriously, how do we get away from them?"
"Two."
"It's simple, really."
"One."
Thin lips twist into a daring smile, almost too cocky for the boy's own good. Almost. "We run like
hell."
"Begin!"
They do, in fact, run like hell. As soon as the countdown ends, the four of them leap from their
building, hitting the next one over and rolling in near unison. Midoriya is at the front, hair
fluttering in the wind and green lighting trailing behind him with each bound. "Stick together!" he
calls out, taking a sharp turn and jumping up to a taller structure. "We'll have less of a chance on
our own! Lemillion, grab on to one of us if you need!"
"Got it!"
With a dash, Midoriya completely clears the building, diving down into a narrow street before
turning off into another one. Nejire follows, occasionally grabbing on to Togata to help him change
directions quicker or focusing a blast from her Quirk to make sharp turns.
Midoriya continues to lead them in sporadic directions, not hesitating for even a second before
making a turn. He bounces off walls, swings from light posts, flips over water towers, and flies
through open windows. Nejire's always known that Midoriya probably has the best mobility out of
all of them, but now? Seeing him operating at max power and efficiency, parkouring like it's
nothing, it's impossible not to see.
But the funny thing is that he's holding back a bit. Nejire knows that he can fly and burst around
with the moves he taught her and easily double his speed, but he's not. And he's doing it for them.
Nejire is probably the closest to Midoriya in speed, with amazing control of her waves and
improved timing from hours of mindless drilling. Amajiki is second, using his animal parts to
recreate Midoriya's moves, albeit at a slower pace and with a lot less grace. Togata is third, but
only because he can only use his Phase Jumps to launch himself in one direction at a time and has
to have another thing to phase into to change course. He has to latch onto them often, but that's fine.
Midoriya makes sure they all stick together.
But even then, it's still a massive rush. What feels like hordes of Shiketsu students (and even the
odd hero from another school) are hot on their heels, throwing out attacks, curses, insults, and even
each other at the four of them, hoping to get a hit in. None of it works, though. Midoriya always
turns, or dodges, or spins just in the nick of time. The closest they come to being hit is a few singed
hairs and a handful of grazes.
"C'mon, this way!" Midoriya yells, dashing out to a main street. Nejire barely has time to think
about whether it's a good idea or not before she dutifully follows, trailing gold spirals. To her right,
Togata is wrapped up snug in some of Amajiki's tentacles, and the smaller boy trails behind,
watching for ambushes with goat's eyes.
"Let Lemillion go!" Midoriya orders, spinning around and running backwards. He looks at the
three of them with a face that can only be described as manic, or maybe crazed. His eyes are
literally lit up with green, and his teeth are on full display. Nejire's so distracted by it that she
doesn't realize that they're heading right for a mass of enemy students until he whirls back around.
"You can't be serious!" Amajiki hollers, making sure Togata has his balance before shifting his
legs into something more suited for running without cargo.
"Oh, I am!" Midoriya cackles, freaking cackles. There's no way he doesn't know that this will give
Aizawa a heart attack. "Right through! They won't be expecting it!"
"You're insane!" Nejire laughs, twirling in midair. Midoriya doesn't even bother responding,
instead dropping his shoulders and picking up the pace, bracing for impact.
Nejire never gets to see the looks on the Shiketsu students' faces as Midoriya plows right through
them followed by everyone else, but she can imagine. Shocked is probably the most likely
expression. Fear, too, maybe even despair, because being slammed into by a five foot eight
freshman going thirty kilometers an hour is definitely a traumatic experience.
Midoriya takes them right through the crowd, just as promised. He clears a path down the middle,
taking potshots at random and letting out a cry of joy. Togata is the closest behind him, following
his lead and punching people left and right. The end result is complete and utter chaos. The
Shiketsu students are completely defeated, and Nejire and her friends have an opening to hide.
Midoriya, being the planner he is, tackles the three of them into a back alley as soon as possible
and drags them into a sewer.
"That was a great plan!" Togata says, the words echoing in the damp dark of the sewer. It doesn't
smell bad, which is nice, but Nejire can hear running water. They're all tight together, too, since no
one knows how large the area is. Nejire's squished between two people, and one of her arms is in
an awkward position. Whoever she's next to feels hard and really muscly. So it's probably Togata
or Midoriya. They both have good muscles. Then again, so do she and Amajiki.
"Shush," Midoriya hisses, followed by a lot of rustling. A finger is pressed to Nejire's lips, clearly
meant for Togata, so she gently moves it away. "We don't know where everyone is. Here." A slight
rustle and a soft crack later, and the sewer is lit up by a fistful of green lightning. Nejire catches on,
copying Midoriya with her own Quirk and adding a gold tint to the light.
The sewer is bigger than she thought, about three meters wide and two tall. On the far side is a
small stream of swift-moving water, and the entire thing is made of brick.
"So, what now?" Nejire asks, already getting antsy. Being hunted isn't exactly fun and being stuck
in a sewer (no matter how clean) is less so. Not to mention cramped spaces aren't exactly fun. Also,
being squished by Midoriya and Togata may be warm, but it's also kind of uncomfortable.
"I still can't believe that worked," Amajiki mumbles. "'Right through them, they won't expect it.'
Midoriya, that's because they expect you to be a rational human being."
Togata laughs quietly. "I think we actually knocked some of them out. Midoriya, I saw one of your
kicks land. The guy went flying."
Midoriya smiles, which looks a little odd in the dim light of his and Nejire's Quirks. "Thanks, it
was a spur of the moment thing, so I'm happy it worked too."
"M'kay, but what do we do now?" Nejire asks again, trying to steer the conversation somewhere
productive because they're being graded on this. "Those guys are still up there, looking for us.
How long will it take until they think to look down here?"
"Longer than you'd think," Midoriya answers. "But still not long enough. We need to do
something, but I'm not sure what exactly."
"Well, maybe we should split up?" Togata suggests, which sounds like a bad idea, but—
"Maybe. What's your line of thinking?" Midoriya looks at Togata seriously, like he always does
when he really starts to think.
"Well, they could make traps like they did because we're all in the same spot, right? They just had
some people tail us while the rest waited until we got to them. If we're apart, they can't do it as
much," Togata explains. "And we need to start fighting back, too. We don't know how long this is,
so we better act sooner rather than later."
"But what do we do after we split up?" Amajiki says, fiddling with one of the pouches of food. If
Nejire squints, she can make out the word Cod on the side. "We won't be able to communicate."
"We'll just plan what to do before we get out of here," Nejire says, brushing the question off.
"We've got enough brain power between us to do it."
"I guess."
"Anyways, our top priority is to divide them up and take care of the smaller groups," Midoriya
continues. "But how do we do that?"
"A really good distraction," Togata suggests. "If they're just looking for one or two of us, the others
can break away and hide and make ambushes. But who to pick for the distraction."
"It's gotta be you or Midoriya," Nejire says. "You two are the most slippery out of all of us."
"I'll go," Midoriya says, already standing up. Nejire finds herself missing the strong warmth by her
side.
"You're injured, still," Amajiki points out. By his tone of voice, it's obvious that he knows it won't
accomplish anything.
"But I'm the fastest, and have the best maneuverability," Midoriya counters. "I can pop out, distract
them and then come and get you guys when the time is right. Then we'll go from there."
"I don't like the idea of you running from all of Shiketsu when you're not in perfect health," Togata
says. "I'll go."
"But I can fly, and only three or four people from that school can," Midoriya points out.
Togata takes a deep breath. "Fine, but be careful, okay? Come back to us."
"Don't worry, I've got a couple super moves of my own, remember?" Midoriya smiles, bright and
warm. It makes Nejire's neck heat up which is something she'll either overthink about later or brush
off until it comes back to smack her in the face. Fun. "I'll be back," the boy says. "I promise."
In a flash, he disappears through the sewer lid, sliding it back into place before leaping off to who
knows where to raise hell. In the distance, Nejire can hear a "Delaware-Detroit Smash!" so
Midoriya is definitely having fun. And also giving Eraserhead grey hairs, which is basically the
same thing, now that she thinks about it.
"So..." Nejire says after a while, drawing out the word and extinguishing her little spiral, sending
the sewer into darkness. "You guys wanna talk about what happened at the start of the rescue
test?"
"No."
"Hahaha, nope."
"I figured."
Palpable awkwardness. How fun. Except not really because they sit in it for five minutes, not
uttering a word. Really, you'd think that Amajiki would say something pessimistic, or Togata
would make an awful joke, but nope. Not a peep. Though maybe it's for the best since there are
some instances where they can hear other people in the sewer, which is scary and definitely needs
their full attention.
About six or so minutes (Nejire should know exactly how long it was since she's been checking her
phone every ten seconds since he left), Midoriya returns, with all of the dramatic flare that he left
with. The sewer lid is kicked open, and he drops down, tendrils growing from his back and green
lighting dancing on his skin.
"They're all running around like headless chickens," he says, grinning. Though it's almost not a
grin, where, instead of being happy, it's distinctly predatory, like a shark or a wolf. It makes her
heart skip a beat, which, like her neck heating up earlier, is a dilemma for future Nejire. Man, does
she feel bad for that girl. "You guys ready?"
"Y-yeah," Amajiki mumbles.
"Mm," Nejire says, still trying to process everything.
Togata settles for an uncharacteristically quiet nod.
A couple of seconds and a remarkably well-thought-out plan explanation later, Midoriya stands,
already reaching for the sewer opening, battle face on and with no signs of coming off. "Let's go!"
Yeah, Midoriya is pretty awesome.
[x]
"Scatter!"
Okay, so maybe 'running around like headless chickens' was slight hyperbole. The Shiketsu
students are smart and figure out some of Izuku's tricks. He knows ducking into the sewers isn't the
best thing to do, but there are a couple of times where it's the best option, so Izuku sacrifices the
chance of using it later for a better getaway.
He's starting to regret that now, though, because jumping out of a two foot hole one by one while
ten enemy students attack them at once from all angles isn't a good thing. Luckily, though, Izuku
had thought that this could happen and planned accordingly. So when the Shiketsu students start
targeting his friends, he strikes back.
"LA...!" he shouts, kicking high into the air and flicking his gauntlets down. He begins to spin,
cocking his fingers back with his thumb in preparation to shoot. "Air Force!"
A flurry of cat-sized bursts of air erupts from his fingers one by one, helped along by the gauntlets
and the occasional swing of his arm. Each and every one of them hit something or someone,
knocking people back, out, and breaking the glass of surrounding windows. Izuku keeps spinning,
almost tornado-like, keeping the pressure on until his friends have escaped. Once they have, he
gets to running.
There are approximately forty-two Shiketsu students, plus some other people from different
schools, in their part of the test right now. Most are in teams of five to eight, hunting them down
and blocking their escape from the city. Izuku's job is to make them regret breaking off into
smaller groups.
"Here I am!" he screams, dashing down the biggest street of the whole city. Every now and then,
he kicks a leg hard enough to generate some wind, which in turn makes enough noise to draw the
metaphorical sharks to him. "Come find me!"
Almost instantly, he's found by a squad of Shiketsu kids, all of them chasing after them as fast as
they can, which normally wouldn't be fast enough to keep up, but Izuku's intentionally going slow.
He eyes every building he passes, too, looking for a sign.
There, he sees one! Two spirals, rising out of a curved line like horns, drawn with chalk on a
window next to an alley. Izuku quickly picks up the pace, overshoots the mark, and doubles back,
much to his opponents' frustration. But that frustration soon turns to satisfaction when they follow
him into a dead end.
Izuku stands, back to a brick wall, arms crossed and waiting. The eight kids from Shiketsu slowly
make their way down the alley. They know something's up but aren't sure what.
"Outta fancy tricks?" one of them quips, clapping their hands and summoning a two-handed battle
axe. "Or are you just gonna keep running like a coward?"
Izuku doesn't say anything. Instead, he watches the space behind the eight students carefully.
There's a flash of brightly-colored clothing, and soon Hado is floating an inch above the ground, a
large spiral in each hand. Izuku nods stiffly. He cocks back a fist. The Shiketsu students flinch back
and turn but find themselves surrounded.
"Delaware-Detroit," Izuku starts, speaking slow but loud so they get the timing right.
"Shit, shit, shit!" someone yells, their fear palpable. "That's the dude who held up a fucking
building!"
"Output level sixty," Hado says back, clearly fighting to keep a giggle back.
"Smash!"
"Gring Wave!"
A massive column of spiraling air and a pair of spiraling helixes collide, centered on the group of
black-clad students. There's a whoosh and a boom, and the two forces disperse, having canceled
each other out. All eight of the Shiketsu students are knocked out and lying in a heap.
"I think we may have overdone it a bit," Izuku says as he prepares to dash off again.
"Nah, they're fine," Hado says, laughing. "Go do the next one. Togata's around here somewhere!"
"You got it!"

Izuku and Hado separate, dashing off to do their jobs. Izuku makes his way to a different part of
the city, which is less planed out and has a lot more confined spaces. He picks up a bunch more
hunters, too, about twenty. The more the merrier, after all.
He quickly finds the symbol, too (it's a cartoonish ghost with a smile and a tongue sticking out
because Togata doesn't do subtlety), and zooms down a tight alley without a second thought. This
time, not all of the students follow him in. They're getting smarter, so instead they send half while
the rest go around to flank Izuku. Not that it'll make a difference.
Standing casually between two ranks of ten, Izuku taps his foot, waiting for his blond friend. His
confident stance makes them wary, so they hold off for a while, shuffling about like nervous cattle.
"So," Izuku says, kicking at the ground. "Are we going to do this?"
Just as he speaks, Togata phases through a wall, flashing him a big smile and putting a fist in his
palm. "I think we are," he says, taking a step back and dropping low.
The Shiketsu students look even more nervous now. Good, they should be nervous. But some of
them aren't affected. "Two on twenty, c'mon guys, what's the worst that they can d—"
"Phantom Menace!"
"Puerto Rico Smash!"
Everything from then on is a blur. Literally. Izuku moves so fast and ricochets off of so many walls
that all he can see are streaks of green, red, and white. He doesn't know how many people he hits,
or how long it all lasts, but it feels like it's all over in a blink, and he and Togata stand in front of
each other, grinning like idiots.
"Puerto Rico isn't a state," he chuckles, wrapping Izuku up in a one-armed hug.
"You named yours after the worst Star Wars movie," Izuku counters, also laughing.
Togata instantly pulls away. "You can't be serious."
Izuku nods. "I stand by my previous statement."
Togata shakes his head and pats him on the shoulder. "We'll be having words after this, my friend.
Words."
Izuku can't help but laugh at how serious he's being. "Fine, but there's no way you can change my
mind!" Izuku dashes off again, laughing at how appalled Togata looked right before he left.
He's soon back to gathering hunters, making a ruckus in every corner of the city, even toeing out of
it every now and then, and picking up just about everyone. It's almost scary because, when he
looks back, all Izuku can see is an army of people out for his blood. There are even some people
from schools that aren't Shiketsu, which is just confusing. Shouldn't they be fighting each other
instead of chasing one guy? Maybe U.A and Shiketsu's rivalry went deeper than he thought.
Tossing out a line of Blackwhip, Izuku launches himself up on top of a wooden water tower that
sits on top of a run-down apartment building. He sits down on top of it, One for All growing antsy
deep within him. Hopefully it would get its daily ration of mindless chaos and destruction soon.
The thirty hunters surround his tower, waiting for him to do something or for one of their numbers
to think of a plan. "I have the high ground," Izuku calls to them, because dammit Togata's Phantom
Menace line has put him in a Star Wars mood. Someone from Shiketsu laughs at his little joke,
which is nice, but someone also gets the idea of climbing the water tower, which isn't.
It's a rather daunting sight. Thirty enemies climbing to beat him into a pulp always is. But not today
because there's a rather beautiful-looking chalk drawing of an octopus on the side of the water
tower, and Izuku knows he has them all beat.
"Now, Suneater!"
The water tower explodes, sending a miniature tsunami of liquid outward and knocking almost
everyone back. Octopus tentacles, vines, and chicken feet follow, attacking everything in sight.
Izuku joins in, releasing Blackwhip to do what it wants and carefully watching in case it goes
overboard.
It doesn't, and in mere moments all thirty of the former hunters are knocked out, and the voice
from earlier calls out that both Shiketsu High and another, smaller school have been knocked out
by U.A. It's music to his ears.
"That was intense," Amajiki says, wringing out his cloak. "It's really hard to hear underwater, so I
wasn't sure if I had the timing right."
"It was perfect," Izuku praises, also checking over his costume for any water damage. "Did you do
the gill thing?" Amajiki nods. "Nice. Was that a super move that you did?"
"Yeah." Amajiki tugs on his sleeves. "I'm not really good at shouting them out, though."
"Oh, that's fine." Izuku smiles, giving his friend a little nudge with his shoulder. "You don't have to
yell your moves if you don't want, and if you do want to, then you'll get better eventually. Right?"
"Yeah."
They rendezvous with Togata and Hado after that, cutting across the city to the square and scaling
a building, just in case they have to run again. Izuku finds out that Hado and Togata knocked out a
few students together, and that they're at least going to make it to the tiebreakers. But there's still
time left in the test, and U.A students do not settle for the bare minimum, so Plus Ultra it is.
Naturally, they pick the next biggest target, and Ketsubetsu falls in a flurry of increasingly over-
the-top super move combinations. They take out other schools, too, and don't stop fighting until the
buzzer sounds.
Hearing that they've passed from the HPSC people, even if they knew it beforehand, is like
something akin to euphoria. I'm a hero now, Izuku thinks. A real licensed hero.
He cries, obviously, but they're happy tears, and once he's done there are hugs, pictures, and lots of
praise from his friends.
Then they get back to their teachers, and Aizawa wraps Izuku up in his capture scarf and gives him
detention for three weeks because, "You went too Plus Ultra, Problem Child."
Izuku doesn't mind, though. He knows it means he's cared for.
[x]
Lionel Leo is a very unlucky man. No family, no home, no ride, no money, and to top it all off,
he's stuck in a country that's not his own and in debt to those old Yakuza antiques. Oh, and his
Japanese is awful, too.
Lesser men might consider the easy way out, and to be fair, Lionel has spent some nights looking
over the edge of a particularly tall bridge, but he's better than that. Lions don't give up without a
fight, after all. So, after a night drinking and spending even more money he doesn't have, he looks
for Work.
Work isn't the same as work. work is for idiots who waste their lives pushing papers from nine to
five until they drop dead, and Lionel hates the thought of doing the same. So instead he looks for
Work.
He doesn't much care of what kind of Work he finds. Good money is all he needs, so he can throw
it at that neat freak enforcer and the old man still stuck in the pre-All Might days. So when some
random man pulls him of the street and shoves him into an old warehouse at two AM he, doesn't
even blink.
He does blink at his potential employers, though. One is dressed impeccably, like some kind of
high-class bartender. He must have some kind of mutant Quirk because he's made entirely of
purple smoke. The other is a skinny twenty-something, with dry, pale skin and baggy clothes. He's
got hands, too, a bunch of them clinging to his body, and looking much too real for his comfort.
"So," the hand man says, voice raspy and high. "What's an African lion doing in good old Japan?"
Lionel forces himself to breathe evenly. His mouth is dry, his tail is swishing back and forth, and
his mane starts to feel heavy on his neck. "I'm shit outta luck, that's what," he says back, leaning
against a metal post, faking confidence. "I just need a few hundred thousand yen, and I'll be back
home."
"Home, you say?" The hand man creeps closer, cocking his head to the side. The hand on his face
makes Lionel's stomach churn. "Prey tell, where are you from?"
"Nigeria," Lionel answers. "What's it to you?"
The hand man ignores him and turns to the mist guy instead. "Kurogiri, do you have the
coordinates for the Nigerian countryside?"
"Yes, Tomura. I do."
"Portal, now."
A bit of the mist guy's hand extends, growing into a swirling mass of black and purple. "Come,"
the hand man orders, and Lionel obeys.
Stepping through the portal, he gets hit with a swath of warmth. His feet meet beautiful green
grass, and clean, fresh air hits his nose. On the horizon, the six o'clock sun is just starting to set.
"I'm home," Lionel breathes, falling to his knees.
"Yeah, you are," the hand man rasps. "But not for long. If you want to stay, you have to work for
me."
"I… of course," Lionel agrees, because a trip home is worth all the money in the world. "What do I
need to do?"
"It's simple, really," Lionel's boss says, handing him a piece of paper with names written on it. "All
you need to do is get me these brats, then you'll be home. Deal?"
Lionel Leo walks through the portal a second time with a pawful of Nigerian dirt and a sheet of
paper in his pocket. He'll see his homeland again, even if it's the last thing he'll do.
Chapter End Notes
Remember when I said that if a worte something really long again that it would go in
parts? Turns out I'm a liar.
Anyways, good news for some of you; I'm more open to romance now, if it wasn't
obvious in the chapter. So, like, what do you guys want? Most of the comments say
Izuku/Nejire, some say Dekubowl (like there's no actual romantic relationships, but
everyone thinks Izuku's really hot) and even a hand full of people saying they'd be
cool with Polly stuff. I'm down anything, to be honest, so let me know if you have an
opinion.
Next one will be mostly filler, then I'll start to gradually ramp stuff up. If you're
wondering, the next arc is called 'Public Investigators.' make of that what you will. Till
next time, cheers!
Right (Wrong?) Side of the Law
Chapter Notes
It's official. This fic has 100k hits. Now, I know that doesn't mean 100k people have
read this, but it does mean that this has been clicked on 100k times, which blows my
mind. Thank you so much and enjoy!
Walking around with a hero license in his pocket is like a high. Not that Izuku knows what being
high is like, but he has been on some painkillers before, and those make him all loopy, which is
kind of how he feels right now. The world just feels different. Brighter, maybe. Or happier.
Whatever it is, it's definitely an improvement, and Izuku starts to hum along to a tune as he goes
about his daily jog, stopping every once in a while to brush his fingers against the plastic card in
his pocket. He takes it out to admire, too, his heart beating quicker when he sees the sunlight glint
off his portrait.
He's a hero now. Everyone who said he can't has been proven wrong, and yeah, it might be the
superhero equivalent of a learner's permit, but it still counts. He's a hero.
When he showed it to his mother, she cried. It wasn't surprising, and Izuku had prepared himself
for it mentally, trying to make sure he wouldn't cry along with her. He failed, of course. Midoriyas
know how to cry, and that’s just fine. Tears mean you feel something, after all, and that’s good, no
matter how much time you spend cleaning them up from the floor.
All Might and Gran Torino had been happy too. They showed him their full licenses, and Izuku
picked out the differences immediately. It was a fun evening, though he did get a couple harsh
words for going overboard in the exam. All Might had been impressed with his building stunt,
while Gran Torino promised to make him regret ever ending up in the hospital. Izuku didn't have
the heart to tell him that Recovery Girl already beat him to the punch.
But that's all behind him now. Today he's due back at school and, by extension, his regular
schedule. Izuku's happy about that; the days off he'd been forced to have after getting his license
were boring, and he really missed the tired satisfaction that came after a long day of work.
Rounding the corner of a familiar street, Izuku takes in the sights around him. It's early, about five
thirty-ish, so not a ton of people are out and about. A few people dip their heads to him,
recognizing Izuku from how often he runs. A few more wave as he passes by, particularly the ones
working at shops and cafes. One particular waitress wishes him a good day as she sets up some
outdoor seating.
"Hey, could you come over here for a second?" a voice says. Izuku, thinking it's for him, stops
running and looks across the street. It's not for him, that much is made obvious by how the owner
of the voice is pointing at a random shopkeeper.
"Sure," the shopkeeper, an elderly woman who runs a florist shop, agrees. She slowly creeps
further away from her store window and over to the man who spoke. "If you're looking for flowers,
I don't open for another twenty minutes."
"Ah, that's okay," the man says, his hands twitching. By all logic, Izuku should've moved on by
now. Random conversations are none of his business. But something feels off. "That's not an issue
for me."
The florist cocks her head. "Pardon?" she asks, taking a half step back. Across the street, Izuku
finds himself tensing up. "I can't let you in until six AM. I've got to set up shop. I'm sorry, but
you'll just have to wait."
The man nods, looking around casually. He locks eyes with Izuku for a half second before looking
away. "Yeah, I'm not worried about that. Instead..." With a flick of his wrist, a sharp-looking blade
slides out of his sleeve, and he shoulder checks the old woman, pinning her roughly to a wall.
"You're going to open up shop right now and gimme all the cash you've got."
Izuku immediately powers up One for All, his hero license an encouraging reminder that he can
step in. He extends his hand but stops short of casting a few strands of Blackwhip out. The man's
blade is dangerously close to the woman's throat, and while it's doubtful that he'll kill her (he wants
the money she has, after all, and murder is a much more hefty crime than grand theft), Izuku can't
risk any harm coming to the victim. So he waits, inching forward into the street a bit to decrease
the range and making no sudden movements.
"Okay! Okay!" the woman screams. "Just let me get my keys out!" The man nods and releases her,
still holding the blade threateningly, pointed at her chest. Izuku waits until the two are a few feet
apart before striking.
Pushing off the ground and dashing across the street at a low six percent Full Cowl, Izuku throws
two hands out. From one, two strands extend, closing the distance and wrapping the criminal from
feet to chest. The other grabs the arm with the blade, twisting it slightly and forcing it to drop. All
of it happens in less than two seconds, and the would-be robber is pinned to the ground ungently.
"Are you okay, ma'am?" Izuku asks, walking closer but still keeping an eye on the criminal. He
can't tell if the blade came from his hand or if it was just a hidden weapon, but it's still on the floor,
so he kicks it a few extra feet away. On the ground, the criminal howls curses and thrashes in his
bindings.
"I am, thank you dearie," she says shakily. "I… oh dear, did someone already call the police and
heroes?" She looks around at the surrounding people.
"I did," someone says, raising their hand. "Called them almost as soon as he pulled that knife. They
should be here soon."
"That was good thinking," Izuku says, half tempted to wrap a strand of Blackwhip around the
criminal's mouth from how loud and obnoxious he's being. Seriously, how many different ways
can you rearrange all of the basic curse words? With how the man is going, it’s looking like the
number is infinity. "Hopefully they'll be here soon. I don't want to be late to school."
"Um, you might not be going to school," another person speaks up. Izuku looks at them, confusion
obvious on his face. "You're like, what? Thirteen? You're not a pro, so what you did is illegal
vigilantism."
"Oh! That." Izuku chuckles. "I'm actually sixteen, and I do have a Provisional License. Everything
will be fine. I just have to show them my card and they'll run it through the system."
"Oh. Well, that's good."
The police get there quickly after that. Two cruisers, sirens blazing and lights flashing, pull over to
a curb, and four officers hop out. They quickly spot the criminal and have Izuku release him before
restraining him and locking him in the back of a car. A paramedic swings by after that, but since
there are no injuries, they head back out on regular patrol. Izuku, along with everyone else who
saw, gives a quick statement, and the criminal is then taken to the station. But one police cruiser
remains.
"Do you have a hero license?" an officer asks Izuku. She's a tall woman with a perfect uniform and
shiny shoes. Her black hair is cut short, and she has a serious air to her.
"Yes, ma'am," Izuku says, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his wallet. From his wallet, he
takes out his license, and he places it in the woman's waiting palm. She looks it over for a second
then has her partner copy down the ID number to run through the in-car computer.
"You did good," the officer says, paying more attention to the other cop, who's much more
disheveled and young-looking. "Most heroes your age jump right in, but you waited for a better
moment. That could've saved a life."
"Thank you." Izuku smiles. "I worked hard for that license." The woman makes a short noise of
understanding but turns away from Izuku when her partner walks back over.
"The ID bounced," they say, already reaching for the handcuffs on their belt. "Do we take him in
or...?"
Izuku, suddenly much more nervous, tries to speak. "I-It's real, I promise you! I don't even know
how to get a fake ID, let alone one that realistic!"
The woman raises an eyebrow. "When was this license printed?" she asks, holding it up between
her middle and index fingers.
"Three days ago," Izuku quickly replies.
"Mmhmm.” The woman nods. "That's why. It takes a while for the database to get updated,
especially the one that has all the Provisional License numbers."
"They didn't tell me about that," Izuku says, relaxing. "So everything's alright then?"
The woman sighs tiredly. "Unfortunately, no. Protocol dictates that we have to bring you in for
holding because, as far as we know, this could be fake." She takes another look at Izuku's license.
"But it looks real to me, and you seem genuine enough, so I'm not too worried. Where do you go to
school?"
"U-UA," Izuku stutters, realizing what's probably going to happen.
"We'll give UA a ring and ask them to confirm that this is real," the woman continues. "It shouldn't
take more than an hour, and if you're not guilty then you can even go to school today.
Unfortunately, we will have to cuff you."
"Oh…"
The woman's partner chuckles. "It's procedure, kid. We're technically bringing you in for illegal
Quirk use and vigilantism, which means you have to be restrained." Izuku must look a bit nervous
at that because he quickly slips on a smile. "They'll be really loose, don't worry. And how many of
your friends can say they've worn real handcuffs?"
They leave after that, Izuku awkwardly waving as he's escorted into the back of a police cruiser,
handcuffs clinking all the way. The elderly woman he saved makes sure he knows that, if he ever
needs some flowers, he'll always have a discount at her store, and the other witnesses wish him
luck.
The drive to the station after that is silent and awkward. Izuku asks to call his mom, but they say
that he'll have to wait until they get to the station. When they do get to the station, Izuku is
escorted out of the car and up the steps. He's then processed, with his fingerprints taken, along with
a quick mugshot and a signature that confirms he was taken in at 5:55 that morning. A few basic
questions are asked, like where he lives, where he goes to school, and what his Quirk is. Then, he's
taken to a holding facility and allowed to call his mother.
He waits patiently as it rings, counting the number of tiles on the ceiling and theorizing about the
Quirk of his guard. When she does pick up, she sounds tired.
"Izuku," she mumbles. "Why are you calling so early? Shouldn't you be working out?" And Izuku
suddenly remembers that he has to tell Gran and All Might that he got arrested.
"Y-yeah, I should," Izuku says, a little bit nervous. "But, um, ah, something happened on my jog
this morning…"
"Honey, are you okay?" his mother asks, sounding frantic. "Are you hurt? At the hospital? How
bad is it!?"
"Mom, Mom! I'm fine," Izuku says, calming her down. "There was an attempted robbery on my
usual run, and I had to stop the guy. The police were called, and when they came to check my
license, it didn't work for some reason. I'm at the police station now."
"You're what!?" his mother screeches. Izuku nearly drops his phone, much to the amusement of his
guard.
"I'm at the police station," Izuku repeats, cringing. "Um, I think I've been arrested? But don't
worry! They know I'm innocent, so they're calling up UA, and they'll sort everything out. I might
not be home for breakfast, though."
"I'll be right over," his mom says, and Izuku can hear her already digging through her closet to find
some proper clothes. "When I get there, we're going to have a talk about getting into trouble,
understand, young man?" Her worried voice makes her statement feel completely unthreatening.
"I understand, Mom." Izuku smiles. "I'll see you soon. Bye."
"Bye."
Izuku sets his phone down on the table and goes back to counting ceiling tiles. He wants to look at
the hero radar, but looking at his phone while he’s waiting in a cell (it isn't a cell, but the door and
the windows looking outward are barred, so it's close enough) for his mother to come by feels
impolite, so he sits and twiddles his thumbs.
"You've got a nice mother, you know," the guard at the door says casually through the slot in the
door. He's got strange markings under his eyes and skin with an orange tint to it. "And you seem
like a good kid. Why're you in here?" Izuku quickly explains the situation, which gives the guard a
good chuckle.
"I'm not cut out for the hero world, but stories like yours make me wish I was." He smiles. "Heroes
get into all sorts of shenanigans, and it looks real fun. But with all of that responsibility? I couldn't
do it."
"Yeah, it's difficult sometimes," Izuku agrees. Not everyone has to be a hero to help, and he's
known that for years. But it's the only way for him. "But I just push through it with the knowledge
that it'll make me a better hero."
The guard nods and opens his mouth to say something, but he sees something from the corner of
his eyes before he can and quickly stands up straighter. "Detective," he says, voice full of respect.
"Is that cold coffee?"
A vaguely familiar voice speaks, slightly muffled by the fact that they're just outside of the door to
Izuku's room, "Unfortunately it is." There's a heavy sigh. "Still nothing concrete to go off of for my
case. And there's only one new witness. It's looking pretty grim."
The guard nods sympathetically. "Yeah, but you won't get any help from that cold bean juice. You
going home for the day?"
"In a little bit. I've just gotta file some things before I do. Anyways, what're you doing in detention?
Surely there weren't any drunks out at five in the morning." There's a slight lilt to the voice now,
like they've found some much-needed cheer.
"Oh, just some kid hero who got screwed by the license database," the guard explains. "He says it's
a real card, called his mom, admitted that he only got it recently, and even told us his school name.
We're pretty confident it's legit, but, you know…" He trails off.
"Rules are rules," the voice sighs. "I don't suppose I could help him out?"
"Nah, he's only sixteen," the guard says, sounding a bit frustrated. "Can't use your Quirk on him till
his mother gets here, and she's… kid, how far away do you live?"
"I was about a half hour into my run, but by train it's probably more like forty five minutes to an
hour and a half," Izuku estimates. She has to wait for the next train, which stretches the time out. "I
might be late to school because of this."
"Nah, we can give you a ride," the guard says, brushing him off. "Least we can do for wasting your
time. Well, that's assuming your license is real."
The voice chuckles. "Well, I hope you get this all sorted out." A figure bends down to peep into the
slot, so whoever's talking must be tall. "I'm sorry I can't help you, but..." The man realizes at the
same time Izuku does. "You're Yagi's boy," Detective Tsukauchi says, shocked.
"I guess I am," Izuku says bashfully. "Nice to see you again, Detective."
"I suppose it is," the detective says, still looking more than a little surprised.
"Do you know him, sir?" the guard asks.
"Only in passing," the detective says. "I'm friends with his mentor. We play poker on the weekends
sometimes. I've got half the mind to stay and wait for his mother now. It's the least I can do for a
friend of a friend."
"You don't have to!" Izuku insists. "You look tired, and your job is very stressful. Go home. I'll be
alright." And it's true. The detective has heavy, purple bags under his eyes, along with a coat of
stubble. His shoulders slump in the way that Aizawa's do sometimes, and his clothes are all
wrinkled.
"If you're okay with it, then fine," the detective says, standing up straight. "Thanks for your
kindness… Midoriya, was it?" Izuku nods. "Thank you, Midoriya. And try not to end up back here
again, alright? It'd be a shame to see your career go down the drain."
"Of course, have a good rest!"
Twenty minutes pass. There's some idle small talk with the guard, who's really nice and listens to
everything Izuku has to say and waits until he's finished to speak back. There are also more than a
few text messages, mostly from his mom, though All Might appears to be mildly worried that he's
technically been arrested. He does his best to reassure everyone, but they still worry. It's sweet but
also kind of annoying.
Then, his mom finally arrives. Izuku can hear her before he sees her, mostly because of the way
she walks, which is with a million tiny but rapid steps that get her around remarkably fast. But
there's also no shortage of worries coming from her mouth, which makes Izuku feel guilty because
he did that to her.
"Izuku, my baby!" The door flies open, and Izuku's mom hurries through, followed closely by an
officer. Izuku just barely has time to stand and brace himself for a hug before she wraps him up in a
tight embrace. "Are you okay? Are they going to press charges?"
Izuku gently returns the hug. "I'm okay, Mom. And there are no charges. I'm only here because of
a technicality."
"Are you sure?" his mother asks, looking close to tears.
"I am. We just have to wait for UA to reply to the station's inquiry, and I'll be good to go," Izuku
comforts. "Here, have a seat. It's actually pretty nice here."
"Sweetie, don't compliment a jail cell," his mother says, shaking her head and sitting down. "It's
just wrong. Have you had anything to eat yet?"
"I was waiting for you," Izuku says, sitting down next to her at the metal table. "They offered to
bring me in some breakfast earlier, but I wasn't hungry. If you want something, though, I'm sure
they'll get it for you."
"I'm fine, honey," his mom assures. "I'll eat once this is over. You should have something now,
though. You were on a run earlier."
"Maybe."
Before anyone can make a decision on whether or not to eat, there's a polite knock on the door
frame. "May I come in?" a deep baritone says. Izuku looks over to see a large, barrel-chested man
dressed in a police officer's uniform. A heavy metal badge over his right breast denotes him as the
head of this precinct.
"Of course." Izuku's mom straightens, gently prodding her son to do the same. "Has everything
been sorted?"
"It will be soon enough," the man says, taking a step in. "I just need a few quick words from UA's
representative, then there'll be some paperwork, and you'll be on your ways."
"UA's representative?" Izuku asks, leaning forward.
"He's talking about me," Aizawa says, stepping in through the door, a steaming mug of coffee in
his hands. He looks absolutely exhausted, probably because this is the tail end of his patrol. "Three
days, Midoriya," Aizawa continues. "Three days since you've gotten the license."
The officer's lips quirk up ever so slightly at that, and Izuku's mom stiffens a bit. "It's not his fault,
you know," she defends. "He's got his license. He shouldn't have to go through all of this because
he saved a life."
"Mom," Izuku hisses.
Mr. Aizawa holds up a hand in surrender. "I'm just as frustrated at the situation as you are, Miss
Midoriya. He should already be in the system, and nothing about this is his fault. Your son did the
right thing, and I'm here to make sure he doesn't get screwed over because of some dumb
technicality."
Izuku's mom relaxes at that. "Thank you, sir. I'm happy you're looking after my boy."
Aizawa nods and turns to the officer. "I was there when the license was issued. It's real. I can even
call up more witnesses. Here's my license." He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a plastic card.
"UA also reaffirms that Midoriya is a licensed hero and that no crime was committed when he
stopped that robbery." He pulls out an envelope from another pocket, the paper heavy and
expensive-looking. "You'll find signed documents from UA in here, along with an official
signature from an HPSC member that Midoriya Izuku got his license on the date he says he did."
The officer doesn't even glance at the license but gingerly takes the envelope. "Thank you,
Eraserhead. I'll make sure the Commission knows this happened so we don't have to deal with
something like this ever again." His voice is a touch sarcastic at that last bit.
Aizawa huffs and rolls his eyes. "Good luck with that. Midoriya, you're free to go. You're also
excused from homeroom. Go home, sleep a little. I know that's what I'll be doing."
"Yes, sir. Thank you for coming!"
Izuku goes home after that, riding in the back of a police cruiser with his mother, this time without
the handcuffs. They get back to the apartment at a quarter to seven, which gives Izuku nearly an
hour and a half to sit at home and do basically nothing. He's got no homework from the previous
week, and his teachers would probably kill him if he worked out right after he got back from the
police station, so Izuku's forced to sit down and do what he wants. Provided it's not training,
anyways.
He ends up cleaning his room and doing some laundry. He also catches up on some hero sightings
and watches a couple of videos on his phone. It's weird not doing anything productive, but it's not
bad. He just wished he was back in school rather than at home, even if spending a little time with
his mother is nice.
When the time comes to go to school, Izuku rides the train with his mom, who decides to tag along
in case something else goes wrong. He can't blame her, but it's a little embarrassing to make small
talk with his mother while she knits in front of everyone on board.
Izuku gets to classroom 1-A just as homeroom ends. He technically has lessons with Nedzu right
after homeroom, but it feels weird to not check up on the place before starting his day, so Izuku
swings by out of habit.
Poking his head through the door, Izuku is immediately grabbed by the shoulder and pulled inside.
"Hey, Midoriya!" Hado says, eagerly dragging him further into the room. Izuku, surprised at the
turn of events, blinks and looks around. Togata and Amajiki are there, too, standing around his
desk while Mr. Aizawa looks dead-eyed at a mug of coffee at his desk.
"What's going on?" Izuku asks, unslinging his backpack and setting it down. "You guys aren't
supposed to be here."
"Yeah, but we heard about what happened, and there was no way we could just go to class!" Hado
looks over to Aizawa. "Eraserhead explained why you were arrested, which is a sentence I never
thought I'd say, and we've been waiting for you to show up."
"How did you guys find out?" Izuku asks, furrowing his brow.
"Oh, that's simple," Togata says, reaching into his pocket and pulling out his phone. He unlocks it
and shows the screen to Izuku, who does a double-take.
Winner of UA Sports Festival Arrested! the headline reads. Below is a picture of Izuku wearing one
of the tank tops Hado picked for him, handcuffs on his wrists, and smiling like an idiot as he gets
in the back of a cop car. "Oh, shit," Izuku mutters.
"You can say that again," Amajiki says, taking a look at the article as well.
"This was posted, like, twenty minutes after it happened! How did they manage that?" Izuku asks,
because there weren't any news teams there when it happened, and he didn't see anyone take a
picture. "And they don't even have all the facts!"
"The press are a bunch of vultures," Aizawa sighs. "They leech onto anything as soon as they can.
I'm surprised they didn't work their way into the station while you were there."
"But everything will be fine, right?" Hado asks, a little worried. "I mean, he's here, so it has to be."
Aizawa nods. "There'll be some PR work, but after that this'll all blow over in a week. And if it
doesn't"—he looks at Izuku tiredly—"I'm going to need more coffee."
"Sorry, Mr. Aizawa," Izuku apologizes, because it's definitely warranted.
"It's not your fault," Aizawa says, standing up and taking his coffee with him. "If I get an apology
from anyone, I want it from the Commission. But they're a bunch of lazy idiots, so it won't be
happening. You three." He addresses Izuku's friends. "Don't do what he did. If I have to bail
another person out of jail, it's not going to be pretty."
"Yes, sir."
"You got it!"
"I make no promises!"
Aizawa glares at Hado for that last bit, but heads for the door anyways. "Make sure you four learn
something today," he orders. "Don't let what happened to Midoriya distract you. Much." Then he
leaves to presumably take a nap or do more mentally exhausting work.
"So," Izuku says, awkwardly ringing out his hands. "You guys wanna see my mugshot?"
"I do!"
[x]
"I hear you had some trouble this morning," Nedzu says, watching Izuku enter the meeting room
with a relaxed smile. "Did you get acquainted with the honorable officers of the Musutafu PD?"
"I did, kinda," Izuku chuckles. "But it was all over pretty quickly. But there's also that article online
about it. Should I be worried? Aizawa says it'll blow over in a week, but I'm not so sure."
"Oh, someone will find out that it was the fault of the Commission and everything will be fine,"
Nedzu waves him off. "But, if you like, we can try our hand at fixing it."
Izuku raises an eyebrow as he takes his seat. "What do you mean?"
"You're not the first UA student to be arrested. We've taught former, current, and future delinquents
for years." Nedzu pours himself and Izuku a glass of tea. "Of course, you're not a delinquent, but
my point stands: This school knows how to do PR cleanups."
"Will one be necessary?" Izuku asks, accepting the cup of warm liquid. "You said it yourself that
it'll be fine."
"Perhaps, but why let things be just fine when they can be better than fine?" Nedzu inhales the
steam of his tea before setting it down and spooning in a little bit of sugar.
"How would you make it better than fine?" Izuku leans back and takes a quick sip from his cup.
"It's quite simple really," Nedzu explains. "We tell people exactly what happened."
Izuku blinks. "But isn't that what's going to happen anyways? The police will be interviewed, and
they'll tell them everything, which you said will make things just fine, not better than fine."
"Ah, you're missing the point," Nedzu chastises. "We are UA, Japan's, if not Asia's, top heroics
school. Our word has much more weight than the police precinct you were at earlier this morning.
If we tell people what happened, and use the right language in doing so, people will see you as the
victim of an awful mistake, not just someone who had an unfortunate morning."
"I don't follow," Izuku admits.
"That's alright." Nedzu leans back in his seat. "I'll give you a hypothetical. If I said that I harvest
and grow natural substances for recreational use to willing buyers, would you have a negative
impression of me?"
Izuku shakes his head. "Not really. That sounds like something a vegetable salesman would say."
"Precisely," Nedzu continues, "but if I said that I grow and sell drugs, would you have a negative
impression then?"
"Yes," Izuku replies instantly.
"Do you see it now?" Nedzu asks. Izuku shakes his head no. "Those statements mean more or less
the same thing. Drugs are mostly naturally occurring, and you can't really sell a product to an
unwilling person. But do you see how my word choice and included information distorted the
truth?"
"I—yes," Izuku says, almost appalled. "How… Do people actually do that often?"
"More than you'd think," Nedzu says, a bit bitter. "And lies can be truly awful things. Distortion—
changing the truth to suit your needs. Admission and omission—adding or taking away details.
Minimizing and maximizing—increasing or decreasing the impact of details. And finally,
reconstructing, which is the example I'm talking about, where you word events differently to make
them seem better for worse. Criminals and villains use them all the time.
"But, lies can also be used for good." Izuku looks up at Nedzu skeptically, and the principal
continues, "You lie by reconstructing every time you explain your Quirk, and in doing so, you keep
the truth about One for All secret, protecting you, your family, and your friends. Yagi lies by
maximizing, telling the world that he is still as strong as ever, fully knowing that he is well past his
prime. In doing so, he keeps countless crimes and atrocities from happening."
"I think I get it," Izuku says. "Lies hurt but they also help. And they can fix things or, at the very
least, keep them going until a real solution can be found. But…"
Nedzu cocks his head. "But what?"
"Why would we lie to the public about what happened?" Izuku asks, curious. "I wasn't hurt, there's
not a major issue, and we don't have much to gain from it. So why?"
"Ah," Nedzu says, a smile turning a little pained. "Humor an old mouse for just a moment, would
you?"
"Of course, sir."
"I like to think I'm above holding a grudge." Nedzu delicately traces one of his claws around his
cup. "They're just not healthy things to keep. But sometimes, I can't help it. The Hero Public Safety
Commission is one such example. They… well, they gave me this." Nedzu points to his scar.
Izuku's curious expression falls. "Oh."
"Yes, oh indeed." Nedzu nods. "I don't blame them for being curious about Quirked animals—no
one could. But I do blame them for their mistreatment. I won't go into details, but the conditions
and experiments were awful. Not to mention that they fought tooth and nail to prevent me from
becoming, well, legally human is the term they used, but in the eyes of the law it means a person."
"They tried to prevent you from having rights after they did all of those things to you?" Izuku says,
appalled. "That's so horrible."
"Yes, it is," Nedzu agrees.
"I understand why you'd want to do something to get back at the Commission," Izuku admits. "But
wouldn't harming their reputation do more harm than good?"
"Perhaps," Nedzu admits. "But do you want what happened to you this morning to happen to other
new provisional license holders?"
"No."
"Then think of this as a way to get them to change how they issue them," Nedzu suggests. "That
would surely help in the long run."
"Alright." Izuku relaxes. "That sounds fine. How do we do this?"
"Slow down just a bit, Midoriya." Nedzu chuckles. "We have more to discuss. You said an HPSC
rep tried to convince you to do a study of your Quirk?"
"Well, I wouldn't say that he tried to convince me," Izuku says, thinking back. "He did make it
seem like the better option to take the check, and I felt like he gained some kind of information
when I told him I'd probably take the check."
"He definitely did." Nedzu nods. "A fifteen year old spontaneously getting a Quirk when it's on file
that he has the extra toe joint? They'd definitely be suspicious of that. I suggest that you take the
check; it's safer for your secrets."
"Should I be worried?" Izuku asks, already sounding so.
"All Might and I can vouch for you if need be, so certainly not," Nedzu reassures. "Just go about
your day, and I'll get into contact with the Commission about getting your check. They know me,
so if I do it they'll send the money much quicker."
"And they'll see that you're on my side," Izuku says, catching on. "But don't they… I don't want to
say hate, but, don't they hate you?"
"Oh, most definitely," Nedzu says, amused. "But they know I'm not evil, so they'll be forced to
assume that you aren't either, lest they suggest I made a poor choice of judgment. Now, let's get to
work on our statement about this morning's events, shall we?"
[x]
That same night, while Izuku's brushing his teeth before bed, the sound of glass shattering moves
through the house. "Mom?" the boy says, voice muffled by his toothbrush. "Are you okay?"
"... Sweetie, are you selling drugs?" his mother asks, sounding worried. Izuku does a spit take with
his toothpaste.
"What, no!" he defends, hurriedly wiping out the foam of toothpaste and spit from the counter of
the bathroom sink. "I go to hero school! That would ruin my career!"
"I know, baby, but a lot of money was wired to my bank account, and I'm worried," his mom calls
back, on the verge of tears. "Can you come out here?"
"Sure," Izuku says, pulling out his phone to check, because it does sound suspicious, and the
Commission money was supposed to come in the form of a check. He opens his email as he walks
down the hall, refreshing it. The message from Nedzu soothes his racing heart.
"Mom, look at this," he says, entering the kitchen, careful of the broken glass on the floor. He
holds his phone out to his mom, who looks two seconds away from crying. "Nedzu talked to the
people who gave me the test about my accident. Remember that?" Izuku explains gently. His
mother nods, wiping her eyes to read the screen of his phone. "For security reasons, they wired the
money instead of sending a check in the mail. Everything's fine. I'm not selling drugs."
"Th-thank you, sweetie," his mother says, passing back his phone. "But are you sure? This is a lot
of money!"
"Oh, it can't be that much," Izuku says, slipping his phone back in his pocket. Wordlessly, his
mother hands him her phone, which is open to her banking app. His heart skips three beats when he
sees it.
Transfer of twenty-five million yen.
He has to reread it five times for it to sink in, and when it does he can barely react.
"Holy shit," he breathes. "That's a lot of zeroes."
Chapter End Notes
25 million yen ≈ 250 thousand dollars, you just divide by a hundred. A closer
estimate is 234 thousand. If this is wrong, by all means yell at me in the comments. I
doubble checked my math, but I could still be wrong.
And, as preemptive for anyone questioning why Izuku went to school after he was
arrested (I have no problem if you point out plot holes, I just ask that you wait for me
to defend them before getting too frustrated) I've known people who were arrested as
minors. In my highschool (and middle school too which is awful) there were kids
that'd get drug charges. They'd go to the station, get processed, get a court date, and
then go to school the next day. I'm not saying it's totally realistic that Izuku would
attend school, but from my experience it's in the realm of possibility.
I know I said this was mostly filler, but some important things still happen. Izuku has a
positive impression of the PD, a negative impression of the HC, a closer bond with
Nedzu, a better understanding of lying, and Aizawa has more grey hairs.
Now on to what most of you are probably here for. The shipping. There are *checks
notes* 193 comments, which is beyond my wildest dreams. I actually counted out who
all voted for what, and the results are as below.
Izuku/Nejire: 70
Izuku/The Big Three: 42
Dekubowl: 37
Mirio/Tamaki (which is going to happen): 14
No romance: 13
Izuku/Tamaki: 4
Tododeku: 2
Izuku/Noburo: 2
Izuku/Someone in class 1-A: 2
Izuku/Mirio/Tamaki: 1
Total: 187
This really doest mean anything, but I thought it would be a good idea to share what
I'm looking at. Nejire is at the top, with ~ 36% of the vote. I couted this like how
elections are, so I took your first pick, though if you were OK with two options but not
one, I counted those two, and if you said you're cool with anything, I didn't count your
vote.
I reiterate, this doesn't mean anything. Well, it does, but just because most of you want
Izuku/Njire doesn't mean that it will get written. I want this story to feel natural, so
whatever happens will be built up and won't just happen out of the blue. This could
most definitely mean that there's no romance at all, but I admit that that's unlikely.
Some of the ships above won't happen. I don't really vibe with Tododeku, and
Izuku/Tamaki isn't my thing either.
I had no one say that they'd drop the fic if I didn't write their choice, which is nice.
Most of you guys seem cool with whatever as long as it's quality. I even had someone
call my storytelling masterful, which had me grinning like an idiot for an hour, so
thanks.
The next one should be out soon ish, and will be a bit more action-y. Cheers!
Underground Work Study
Chapter Notes
TW: implied date rape / implied intent to date rape. Starts at "" How much? "" Ends at
""No, " Izuku says, forcing bile down his throat" both will be made bold for ease of
skipping.
UA Statement Reveals HPSC Blunder!
Just last week, the arrest of UA's freshmen Sports Festival champion, Midoriya Izuku, broke the
news. Not much was known in the hours after it happened, but after compiling information from
both private and public statements, it becomes clear that Midoriya Izuku engaged in vigilantism to
save the livelihood of a local florist. But that is far from the entire story.
As this [ 1 ] picture, taken by a passerby, reveals, the young hero student was far from unhappy
with his actions. His unabashed smile tells it all. No regrets, no remorse for breaking the law. But,
as officials from the police and UA say, no crime was committed that morning.
"The young man has a license and even had it on him at the time. The only issue was that it wasn't
in our computers. He knew that when he was brought in for questioning." — Musutafu Chief of
Police, Ito Ren [ 2 ]
"This whole situation is really due to the slow-acting clerks of the Hero Commission. UA has the
paperwork that proves that Midoriya got his license and even received honours for placing in the
top ten of those who completed. This event took place three days after he got it. There was no
warning that it may take a while to process it, no order to wait until he received confirmation that
he is in the system, and there certainly wasn't anything that could suggest that Midoriya would be
arrested if he saved a life. Because of the slow-moving, or perhaps understaffed, workers at the
HPSC, the boy missed out on valuable lessons and was the target of significant media coverage for
an event that shouldn't have happened in the first place and was no fault of his own. Both have
already had a significant impact on Midoriya, and we've not heard a word from the Commission
about compensation. In my opinion, that's quite rude." — Principal Nedzu of UA High. [ 3 ]
While it's not exactly clear if the Hero Public Safety Commission is completely to blame, the
statements from both the police and UA agree that no crime was committed, and the entire
situation was resolved in a matter of hours.
But what's to say that there haven't been more cases like Midoriya's that didn't get as much media
coverage? How many young heroes have been arrested for doing their job and had hours, or even
days, of their time wasted, taking valuable crime-fighters and disaster-relievers off the streets?
How many have spent time in detention at police stations, or even in jail? There has been some
investigation into those numbers, and already the results are worrying.
New, out-of-date, and even some low-level professional heroes with up-to-date licenses have
been pulled off the streets simply because the Commission doesn't keep track of who's licensed
and who's not as well as they claim. [ 4 ]
It's common knowledge that the HPSC provides a list of heroes in the area covered by a police
precinct, but it can take weeks to update that list, not to mention how antiquated the actual online
hero database is.
If heroes are to continue doing their jobs of keeping the people of Japan safe, then the slow, out-of-
date bookkeeping of the Hero Commission needs to be fixed.
"How many articles are there about this?" Izuku asks, scrolling back up to the top of the webpage
to see the headline again.
"Most major news companies in Japan have run some form of an article on it," Nedzu answers. "If I
had to guess, I'd say around twenty. Maybe more if local coverage is being done."
"And are they on our side?" Izuku sets his phone down on the table and looks back up at the
principal, who's typing something on his own computer. "That article is decently unbiased, except
at the end and even that wasn't anything too extreme. And it's from a smaller news source, so not a
lot of people will see it in comparison to the major networks."
"That article is a good example of the common sentiment," Nedzu informs, spinning his monitor
around so Izuku can see and hopping down from his desk. On-screen are multiple windows, all
open to news articles, and one even shows a muted news clip from two days ago, just after the
statement was made. "Most are using the same four or five sources, and there are no radical
opinions in the mainstream news. Well, except for one." Nedzu cracks a smile and maximizes a
streaming site, which is paused to show a rather angry man pointing at a picture of Izuku. The
image is most definitely from his pre-U.A days and, if he has to guess, is from his middle school
yearbook.
"—arrested! In handcuffs! He's sixteen! Just look at him!" The news anchor gestures to the picture
of Izuku behind him, practically foaming at the mouth. "And he didn't even do anything wrong! I
talked to a guy who was there, and he said it was a clean save! No one was hurt, the kid acted like
a well-oiled machine, and they put handcuffs on him. And, yeah, he looks happy enough in this
photo"—the screen switches to show the picture of Izuku getting into the police cruiser—"but that
doesn't matter. They put a literal hero, who did nothing wrong, in restraints! If that happened to me
at sixteen, I'd be scared out of my damn mind, so props to him for keeping calm. But the handcuffs
are just the surface of this [censored]. This Midoriya kid was only arrested because his license
wasn't in the system! Can you believe that? He had the actual card on him, and they still took him
to the station! This brings up a whole host of [censored]! Like, why would they give him the card
if—"
"You get the picture," Nedzu says, pausing the video with a glint in his eyes. "LLL will always be
one of my favorite news anchors. He just has such a way with words."
"LLL?" Izuku asks, cocking his head to the side.
"His initials," Nedzu informs. "His full name is something practically unpronounceable, so it just
gets shortened. Anyways, that's the only radical reaction in the mainstream news, but there's
another place to consider. Social media."
The principal quickly navigates to a new set of tabs, the large screen becoming a cacophony of
small text and pictures.
Yo this kid got arrested because they didn't have his license registered. Even the DMV has the
decency to wait until the thing is in the system before mailing it to you
I feel like cuffing a sixteen year old after he saved someone's life should be a crime @MusutafuPD
Image look at the smile on this kid, you'd think he's happy to be arrested rofl
LMAO I remember when the same thing happened to my dad when I was 10. He was in jail for
three days. It was his present from @TheHeroSafetyCommissionJP for renewing his license to use
his Quirk for work shit
Imagine if Midoriya Izuku was a doctor who performed emergency surgery in the hospital and
kept someone alive and then got arrested because his medical license was out of date. There'd be a
justifiable uproar from the medical community, and I'm shocked that actually heroes haven't said
anything
"Huh," Izuku mumbles, touched that so many people feel that strongly about what happened to
him. Then he sees a hashtag on Twitter that very obviously pertains to him. "Fifty thousand tweets!
It hasn't even been a week!"
"Yes, the internet is like a firework. Fast, loud, and all the excitement is over in a flash." Nedzu
chuckles and spins the monitor back around. "People are aware about what happened, which is
good. But if we want real change to happen, we have to keep the pressure on."
"Because if the commotion disappears, then the Commission can just sweep everything under the
rug and get away with not doing anything," Izuku agrees. "But how do we do that?"
"Are you active on any social media platforms?" Nedzu asks, his words punctuated by a flurry of
keystrokes.
"Not really," Izuku admits. "I do read a lot of hero forums, and I follow some people on Twitter,
but other than that? Nothing."
"So you're familiar with them but not active," Nedzu continues for him, and Izuku nods. "That's
fine. Perhaps it makes this idea of mine a little more difficult, but it's perfectly fine." The monitor
swings back around to show a white screen with blue highlights. The heading reads Create your
account and has several boxes waiting for information. "How do you feel about becoming a public
figure?"
[x]
Lunch is quiet for once. Well, not really—the usual hubbub of random conversations still fills the
massive room—but at their little table of four, it's all comfortable silence. Spoons scrape against
bowls, and cups clack against the wood of tables. It's nice. But, like anything peaceful involving
the four of them, it doesn't last.
"I'm trending on Twitter and have a verified account with two and a half thousand followers,"
Izuku blurts out. Embarrassingly, he'd been thinking of how to say it for minutes. Across the table,
Hado does a spit take.
"No way," she says, leaning over the table.
Izuku nods. "I'm as surprised as you are, but." He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone.
With a few taps, he pulls it off of Do Not Disturb mode. Instantly, he gets five notifications, along
with a text from All Might which he quickly marks as read before anyone can see. "I'm still
surprised as you are, really."
Hado looks at the phone hungrily, drumming her fingers on the plastic of the table. "You can look
if you want."
Izuku's phone is snatched from his fingers, and Hado expertly navigates to the app on the device.
"Woah, blue checkmark and everything," she mumbles, mystified. "And your account is only two
hours old, how the hell?"
"Midnight and Nedzu helped with that," Izuku says, a bit flushed. "I've only made one post, but I
guess it's really popular. A lot of the replies are about what happened last week."
"I'll say," Togata says, leaning over to look at Izuku's phone over Hado's shoulder. "Heh, your bio
is pretty funny. Did you write it?"
"No, Midnight did," Izuku answers. "She even took my profile picture and captioned my first post.
She's really good with all of this media stuff."
"That makes sense," Amajiki says, eyes locked on the tiny fraction of Izuku's phone that he can see
from his position. "She's the R-Rated Hero teaching at a high school and no one really makes
anything of it."
"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Hado waves him off. "That's not important right now. What is important
is what the heck you're gonna use this for!" She hands Izuku's phone back, which is open to his
profile. A simple picture of him in his school uniform is in the top left, next to his handle
(@TheHeroDeku_Official), along with a few quick words describing who he is. His first post is
further below, which is just a selfie of him and Midnight with the caption I'm that one kid who got
arrested. The one on the left with the green hair. Apparently stating the obvious is a form of
comedy that will make him seem more relatable. If Izuku is being honest, he didn't understand a
single word of what Midnight said when she explained.
"Nedzu says that I should build an online presence." Izuku shuts off his phone. "His line of
thinking is that if people get used to seeing or hearing about me then they'll be more open to seeing
me in a positive light. And not to mention that social media offers plenty of free publicity. I just
hope I don't mess it up."
"No, silly, you can babble to us about all the nerd stuff later," Hado chides. "I wanna know what
you're gonna post!"
"Oh," Izuku says, suddenly realizing that he has no idea.
Togata snorts. "Yeah that's pretty important. Maybe you should look at what other heroes post.
And Hado, too, I know she's pretty active."
"Not really, I just like to scroll aimlessly," Hado corrects. "But looking at other heroes' profiles is a
good idea, and so is just thinking about what you want other people to see."
"Well, most heroes just post about publicity stuff. Merch deals, youth outreach, maybe about how
good their agency is, too," Izuku thinks out loud. "But I don't have any of those."
"Hmm, that is a problem." Hado taps her finger on her chin. "You could commission t-shirts from
a company and sell merch, but that'd be a bit tacky. We haven't even been licensed for a week yet,
and most hero merch is for, like, the top ten."
"More like the top fifty or so, but yeah," Izuku agrees. "Selling merch just so I have something to
post about isn't a good idea anyways. Maybe I could talk about my progress? Like new moves and
stuff."
"Eh, that'd be compromising your style," Togata points out. "If you share your moves with the
internet, then everyone will be able to see them. Even villains."
"So that's right out." Izuku sighs. "I mean, I know I'll have to talk about what happened last week
on there. It's why Nedzu helped me make the account. But I don't want to use it just for that."
"You're overthinking it," Amajiki says, poking a ring of calamari with his fork. "Just be you."
"Tamaki has a point," Togata says, leaning back in his chair. "You're plenty likable. If you just be
yourself, it'll be enough for people to keep you in mind, which is what this is all for."
"But what am I?" Izuku asks, fidgeting with a chopstick. "Er, that wasn't supposed to be all
philosophical. What I meant was how do I be myself? Wait, no, that sounds stupid. What do—"
Hado laughs. "Midoriya, being yourself isn't complicated. You do it all day every day, twenty-four
seven, three sixty-five."
"But what—"
"Weights," Amajiki cuts him off. "You lift weights. Fitness is important to you. Post about that."
"Or whatever else you do in a day that you enjoy," Togata continues. "Maybe not out training, but
what you do in your free time would be fine. You could talk about how cool other heroes are."
"Whatever it is, make sure you enjoy it," Hado chimes in. "If you like it, you'll be genuine about it,
which is really important for public figures."
"What I enjoy…"
And that's how the second post becomes a group photo of the four of them, all squished together
and smiling. Hado gives Midoriya bunny ears, and Togata pulls Amajiki in so they're pressed
together tight. The caption simply reads lunch with friends.
After lunch ends, the four of them all head to one of the rooms near the edge of the main building,
following a set of orders sent to them the previous night. The only strange thing about it is that
they're not supposed to change into costumes or even gym uniforms, but it's easily brushed aside in
favor of wondering what they're in for.
As it turns out, they're in for a lesson. Not the disciplinary kind, but rather the educational sort.
Aizawa watches them all enter the sparse meeting room and take their seats before standing up
straight and hitting a few buttons on the wall. A screen and projector pop out, and the lights dim.
On the screen, there's a basic font that reads Hero Work Studies.
Hado immediately perks up. "Aw, nice! I've been waiting for this!"
Beside her, Togata also cracks a smile. "Sir's been kind of impatient about how long it was taking
for us to be available for these. How soon will we be able to start one?"
"Great," Amajiki mutters. "More people."
Izuku blinks. Clearly he's the only one in the dark here. "What's a work study?"
"If you're patient, I'll explain it to you," Aizawa says, stopping Izuku's friends from answering
before they can even start. "A work study," the man continues, "is exactly what it sounds like. It's a
program that UA, and many other schools, hero or no, use to help students learn on the job while
also making some extra money."
"Huh," Togata says. "I didn't know about that part, but I guess if we're working then they can't not
pay us."
Aizawa nods "Exactly. But that's not all. Hero work studies require a little bit more effort to do,
mostly because for the agencies it's basically like hiring a sidekick who's not even out of school
yet. You may be learning while you work, but that doesn't mean you'll be exempt from school
duties. Though you will sometimes be excused from coursework."
"So it's like the internships," Izuku says, catching on.
"Yes and no," Aizawa corrects. "You have licenses, and before anyone asks, yes they're in the
system now." He casts an obvious look at Izuku as he speaks. "And with those licenses come an
extra degree of prestige. Whatever hero agency you end up with will see you as someone who
needs to be taught, yes, but they'll also treat you like another hero. Patrols, being on call, and doing
paperwork are all things you should expect. You'll also be allowed to make saves on your own,
like Midoriya did last week. And with that..." He pulls out a remote and hits a button, causing the
screen to change. It now reads The Hero Network. "This.
"The HN is an encrypted database, tied to all licensed pros in Japan, the police, and the major news
networks. It is likely that your agency will allow you access to the HN, if only so you can properly
document when and why you use your Quirks." Aizawa pulls out his phone and turns it on,
showing them a sleek-looking menu, with clear and easy-to-read navigation options. "You'll use
this to report to the police, alert others to emergencies, and, if need be, call for medical attention.
This is a fairly recent thing, but it's usefulness has swayed many an older pro. Midoriya, I know
Gran Torino is an avid user of this."
"But what about actually applying to agencies?" Hado asks. "How do we do that? Just walk in and
ask for a job?"
"That only works in movies," Aizawa sighs. "But to answer your question, you're on your own. Use
your contacts from the Sports Festival. Contact agencies near your home. Ask upperclassmen to
put in a good word for you. Whatever works. Well, that's for you three second years. Midoriya."
"Yes, sir?" Izuku asks, more than a little confused.
"UA has never had a first year do a work study," Aizawa starts. "Believe me when I say that there
was a lot of discussion at the most recent staff meeting about what to do with you. Some said that
you shouldn't be allowed to do one, others wanted you to be allowed to go wherever you liked.
Personally, I think it's illogical to have you get a license and then not let you do what it's main
purpose is."
"So I can do a work study?" Izuku asks, already thinking about what agencies he could try to apply
for.
"Yes, but there'll be restrictions," Aizawa answers. "We can't just let one of our top students go to
any agency. Some aren't up to UA's standards, and others are much too intense for even fully-
fledged heroes. As such, you'll only be allowed to work with an officially-recognised hero teacher.
At least until we can convince some of the staff to let you spread your wings a bit."
Izuku blinks. "But wait, most teachers here only patrol sparingly. Thirteen said you guys make
enough from a teacher's salary to get by and only go out when things need you specifically. The
only UA teacher who regularly patrols is…"
Aizawa nods, already looking more tired than he did seconds before. "That's right. You'll be
working with me for the foreseeable future."
[x]
The clicking of a case, a squeak of hinges, soft thuds and paps as items are sorted out before him.
Green and red, mostly. Midnight had cautioned him about clashing and accidentally making people
think of Christmas when he told her about the color palette, but the other aspects of the design
would distract from that.
Warm cloth meets bare flesh, since wearing anything under the self-healing fabric would defeat the
purpose of having self-healing fabric. He does have socks and underwear, though. Togata has told
him more than a couple stories about how awful it is to go commando under the suit, and Izuku
does not want to deal with that.
With a quick zip, the bodysuit is on, and he quickly slings his belt over his shoulder. It's freshly
restocked from the previous day's training. Or was that two days ago? Aizawa only patrols at night,
so he'd spent some time making sure he had the right sleep schedule. Either way, the belt is clean
and is heavy with medical supplies. He hopes he doesn't have to use any, but you can never really
be sure.
The sash is next, just a simple buckle. Then comes the respirator, and since his hands are by his
neck, he feels for the necklace, too. It's still there, the green metal warm from his skin. Goggles are
snugly placed on his head, and then come the gloves and boots. They used to be a bit difficult to
get on, since they go from his hands and feet to his elbows and knees, but he's got a handle on them
now, and it only takes a few seconds.
He holds a fist up, pointed at the ceiling. With little effort, a single black strand manifests, going
right through the hole in his glove. There's no pushback, but One for All feels antsy. On edge. It
knows Izuku will be seeing action tonight.
He pushes the door open and walks up the stairs, a bit faster than usual. He's antsy, too. Because
what's to come is real. No fancy sims, no emergency stops. Just Izuku and a supervisor, out on the
hunt for criminals and villains. It's exciting, yet nerve-racking.
"You're such a sap," Gran's aged voice says from an armchair. It's out of place among the weights
and racks of the gym floor, but the man is comfortable enough in his spot.
"Ignore him, my boy," All Might says with a smile. He's clearly pleased with Izuku's choice of
clothing. "Your costume is wonderful, and even more so since you designed it yourself."
"Thank you." Izuku smiles back, taking a seat on a bench. "It's finally broken in all the way, so it
feels great. A-and I'm really glad you like it, too."
"Softies, the lot of you," Gran scoffs. "Seven, Eight, and Nine can't go a day without going all
mushy. It's a miracle you two have survived this long."
"He's only saying that because of the sash on your waist." All Might grins. It's different from his
hero smile, more genuine, more relaxed. "Sorahiko won't admit that he's just as touched as us that
you're honoring Nana." Gran Torino huffs but doesn't deny it. All Might continues unphased,
"You've got a big day today."
"Y-yeah, first real patrol and my first night shift." Izuku reaches a hand up to his chest and touches
the bump the necklace makes in the cloth. "Aizawa should be here at any moment to pick me up."
All Might nods. "He's a good hero to work under. Eraserhead will make sure you get through
everything all right. Is your mother nervous?"
"She was," Izuku admits. "And still is, but I told her who I'm going with and she eased up a bit.
Right now she's back home, sleeping off all the meetings she had with stock brokers."
"Investing the money you got from the incident?" All Might asks. Izuku nods. "Smart thinking. Do
you have any plans for what to do other than buy stocks?"
"Well, we're using some to do home improvement stuff. New furniture, better plates, that sort of
stuff," Izuku recalls. "And in a couple months, and if we've made enough money, we're going to
see if we can get a better house."
All Might hums. "Spend any on yourself?"
"A little," Izuku admits. "Just some posters I've wanted for a while and a new winter coat for when
it gets cold again. My mom had me buy it a size too big in case I grow again."
"Smart woman, your mother is," Gran Torino says. "You'd do best to take after her." Izuku nods,
and the conversation comes to a close. There's silence for a while, and then there's a knock at the
door. Izuku and All Might both stand to answer, but it swings open before either of them get close.
"Does All Might even know the meaning of the word 'subtlety'?" Aizawa stands in the doorframe,
looking moderately well-rested. His costume isn't as scruffy as usual, too, and his goggles are
already on. Behind Izuku, Gran Torino snorts.
"In hindsight, it wasn't the best idea to post the boy's name right above the door," All Might
admits. It's hard to tell, but Izuku gets the impression that Aizawa rolls his eyes as he speaks. "But
what's done is done. Midoriya?" Izuku perks up, and a gentle hand is placed in his curls.
Subconsciously, he leans into the touch. "Good luck, young man. Use your head."
"I will, sir."
Aizawa takes him outside after that and quickly leads him up the side of a nearby building with a
short, "Follow me." The way he uses his capture scarf for mobility is amazing; it must've taken
him years to learn how to do it. Maybe even a decade, since Izuku can't think of a hero with a
weapon like Aizawa's to teach him.
"Do you know how the underground works?" Aizawa asks, perched on the side of the building. To
his left, Izuku nods.
"Heroes go out at night in search of crime and to gather information about villain activity," he
rattles off. "Most of the information gets passed on from the solo heroes to bigger agencies, and the
police usually show up to take the criminals away after they're dealt with."
"I said the underground, not underground heroes," Aizawa says. Izuku looks at him, brow
furrowed. "Back before All Might, most criminal and villain activity was done by gangs. It's easier
to work with groups for most things, and back then a lot of heroes were about making it solo. But
then the Symbol of Peace rose, and the crime organizations fell. There's still some left, mostly
Yakuza who don't do much, but they're closely monitored in case they go too far. And without
formal organization, most crime is committed with the backing of the underground.
"I'll give you an example," the man continues. "A man with a business in the shady part of town
gets robbed. He loses out on months' worth of revenue and can't pay his rent. Luckily, he's friendly
with a drug dealer next door, so he borrows some money. But instead of asking for the money
back, the drug dealer has the shop owner pay him back in favors. A couple weeks after the first
incident, the drug dealer comes knocking. He needs a different vehicle to make a delivery run and
says he's cashing one of the favors. The shop owner lets him borrow his car. Then, a couple days
later, the dealer comes again. He says that he needs a place to lie low for a few nights, and the shop
owner agrees. With that, the money is paid back.
"In reality, it's much more complicated," Aizawa continues. "Think of it like a web, multiple
strands interlocking with others, all held together by the common currency of favors. And the
worst part is, we can't exactly track them."
"Sir?"
"Anyone can lend their friend a few bucks or offer a stranger a bed to sleep on for the night. It's far
from illegal, which makes our job much harder." Aizawa stands, double-checking that his goggles
are snug on his head. "We can't arrest people for giving things, so our job is to cut everything off at
the root. We're going to a drug-heavy neighborhood tonight. If we get enough dealers off the street,
then there'll be less favors. Less favors means more people vulnerable to arrest."
"I understand, sir." Izuku stands too, looking down at the street below.
"Good." Aizawa casts a strand of his scarf out, the cloth extending across an alley and latching
onto a sturdy-looking pole. "Stick behind me. You're allowed to act to save a life, but otherwise
don't do anything until I give the OK. Let's go."
It's quiet at night. It's mostly due to the lack of cars and the absence of the usual flurry of
pedestrians. Every time Izuku lands on a roof, he cringes at how loud it sounds. He's done the same
in training facilities, but then the gravest consequence was being captured. Here, if a villain heard
him land, someone could die. Still, though, it's much better than if Izuku didn't have a way to quell
the green lighting that came with his Quirk. If he didn't, he'd be a really pretty target for whoever
felt like shooting.
"Loosen up," his teacher coaches as they land on another rooftop. "You're more likely to screw up
if you're overly tense. Breathe."
"Yes, Mr. Aizawa."
"Eraserhead when we're in the field, kid."
"Yes, Eraserhead."
A few more rooftops pass, and Izuku primarily uses Blackwhip to better copy what his teacher
does. It's a little difficult at times, because shooting in the dark is really difficult and not something
he does a lot of ever, but he manages.
It's a mostly quiet route. There are no criminals or villains to apprehend, probably because the
district they're in is a nicer one. They do, however, find a couple getting… busy behind a random
bar, which makes Izuku go pink, and Eraserhead doesn’t even bat an eye as he uses his phone to
send a report of public indecency to the nearest police station over the HN.
By the time they make it to the target district, Izuku is much more relaxed, though there's still a
little bit of nervousness. Eraserhead lands on the roof of a rundown pawn shop before jumping
down into the alley behind it. A cat, or maybe a large rat, scampers off.
"Do you know what this is?" Eraserhead asks, pointing to a symbol spray-painted on the wall.
"It's graffiti," Izuku answers.
"Yeah." The man nods. "But it's not what you think it's for. Back in the day, gangs used to tag their
territory. Nowadays, it's mostly to alert fellow criminals about what's what in a certain area. This
one in particular means that cops were by earlier."
"So then people won't use this place for deals," Izuku finishes. "Does that mean we move on?"
Eraserhead nods. "This one's pretty new, so yeah. We're in a district with a lot of crime now, so be
careful. Stay. Behind. Me. Neither of us knows what's going to happen." Izuku agrees wordlessly,
noting that his earlier jitters have returned.
They go slow after that, Eraserhead checking every alley, shop, and street from above before going
down to ground level and looking for any tags on the walls. He has Izuku stay above when he does,
saying that if anything goes wrong he should pull him out.
Twenty minutes pass before they find any sort of crime. There are some false alarms and some
suspicious people before that, but they can't make an arrest because some teenager is hanging out
behind an appointment in the dead of night, so they have to move on. But when they do find an
actual crime, it's rather obvious.
"How much?" The voice is low but young-sounding. From his angle, Izuku can't see what they
look like under their hood.
"Two grand," another voice says, this one distinctly feminine. They're hooded too, though a lock of
blonde hair peeks through.
"That's up from the last time," the first voice complains.
"Do you want this shit or not? I can sell the pills to anyone else, don't matter to me."
There's a nod, and cash changes hands. Beside him, Eraserhead puts a hand on Izuku's shoulder.
He points to his covered eye and then to his chest. Watch me.
"Bitch, you're overcharging me," the first voice whines, shaking an orange bottle, which clatters.
"There's barely anything in here!"
"Pipe the fuck down, would you?" the woman hisses. "And do you know how hard it is to get
roofies? People actually use them for insomnia and shit, so getting 'em away from the counter is a
bitch and a half. Stop f—"
Eyes glow red, and strands of white snap downward, securing both criminals tightly as a dark
figure hits the ground with bent knees. "You're under arrest for illegal possession, distribution, and
purchase of prescription drugs. Deku, grab the bottle."
Izuku leaps from his perch, landing with barely a sound and using Blackwhip to grab the bottle of
pills. Eraserhead holds out a hand, still keeping a close eye on the two criminals. He hands the
bottle over.
"Rohypnol," the man says in disgust. "Deku, reach into my belt and pull out my phone. File a
report with the HN. Ask for transport."
Izuku does as ordered, typing furiously on the device, thankful for the lessons he was given on
how to work the HN application. "They're on their way, Eraserhead."
"Good. Just hang tight for a minute, Deku. Someone will be on their way soon."
Not a minute later, another figure drops down out of nowhere. They're stocky and short, with a
navy blue costume that has lots of hanging strands that are shaped like harnesses. They hold up a
hero license for all to see. "First bust of the night, Eraser?" they ask.
"One male, black hair, dark eyes, approximately seventy kilos, and a female, blonde hair, light
eyes, approximately sixty kilos," Eraserhead says in lieu of a greeting. "Caught her selling
Rohypnol to him."
The new hero swears. "Date rape drugs, shit." He approaches, loosening one of the belts on his
costume. He addresses Izuku, "Help me search them for weapons and then strap them to my
costume. I'll take care of the rest."
Izuku does as ordered, finding a short knife and a baggie of more pills, which he hands over to the
new heroes before helping them hook the criminals to the costume. Then the hero flies off into the
night, cargo in tow. Then, Eraserhead leads him back up to the rooftop. And now, with the two
criminals gone, Izuku finally notices how badly his stomach is churning.
"I should've warned you," Eraserhead apologizes. "This area mostly deals in psychedelics and
cocaine. But that's not an excuse. Night work is always more dodgy than day work. You get the
worst of the worst and see or hear things you wish you never did. It's the unfortunate truth. Do you
want to head back?"
"No," Izuku says, forcing bile down his throat. "I… there's more people out there like them.
How could I go back when I know I can make a difference?" Something deeper, though, doesn't
bother with feeling nauseous. It wants to go back out there and make sure those pieces of scum or
others like them don't hurt anyone else again. He can't tell if it's him or One for All. Eraserhead
looks at him for a long moment before nodding. Then, they head off.
The next takedown is less gut-wrenching. A simple act of vandalism with the assistance of a Quirk.
Eraserhead nabs the vandal before they can even blink and then files a report. More transport
arrives, taking them away, and the two of them move on again.
Izuku doesn't make an arrest until the last third of the shift. Like all the times before, Eraserhead
takes a perch on the ledge of a building and watches below carefully. It's not obviously a crime, but
one figure is being followed by two more, and the one being chased keeps picking up the pace.
"If someone makes a move," Eraserhead murmurs. "Go for it. I'll be right behind you." Izuku nods
stiffly, focusing more intently on the scene below him.
"At, you sonofabitch, quit running!" There's a shout of terror and the glimmering flash of a knife
being drawn. Izuku moves.
Blackwhip, like some demon from beyond the atmosphere, descends from above, six strands
erupting from his back, only illuminated by the green flow of One for All. Two whips for each
person, one for the body, the other for whatever weapons have been drawn. There are more shouts
of fear, and lots of awful curses, but all three of them are wrapped up securely, and Izuku descends
to the concrete below.
Behind him, Eraserhead lands. "Good work," he says, studying the stands of Blackwhip. "I've
called for transport. Were they all armed?"
"All of them had knives," Izuku says, gesturing with his head to the three weapons, which were
dropped out of panic.
"Good catch." Eraserhead walks over to and grabs the knives. He turns to the three Izuku captured.
"Do you have anything to say for yourselves?"
"Fuck. You."
"Kiss my ass!"
"They tried to kill me! I'm innocent!"
"Typical," the man mutters. "Transport's almost here, Deku. About two minutes. And don't let the
one they chased go. He needs to be questioned, too."
Soon after, their shift ends. Izuku's ready to go home right when Aizawa calls it a night, but they're
not quite finished. They have to file reports on every incident they came across in the last six
hours. Aizawa takes them to a police station, the same one Izuku was taken to after his arrest. The
officers greet them both warmly and offer up hot coffee. Izuku, exhausted mentally and physically,
finally understands exactly why Aizawa carries his sleeping bag around at all times.
The paperwork takes two hours. Izuku had often wondered why All Might complained about it so
much, but if he apprehended fifty villains in his time limit, then the rest of the day definitely had to
be spent documenting it all, which has to be mind-numbingly boring.
Once they finish up, Aizawa has him store his costume at the police station because they'll be
meeting there the next day (or later this day? Time is hard when it's five AM and you haven't slept
since seven PM) for another patrol, and that he's excused from classes for the next few days.
When Izuku gets home, he collapses in bed, too tired to change out of the basic fatigues the officers
were kind enough to lend him. Dully, he realizes that he didn't see an actual villain earlier. Only
one of the criminals used their Quirk. He doesn't have time to think about it logically before he
drifts off, but he does find that he doesn't really care if they used their powers or not. They broke
the law and hurt people, and Izuku stopped them. Villains or not, he saved people, and that puts a
smile on his face.
Chapter End Notes
This story is going to be rated mature now. I'd like to say that it's only for this chapter,
but I can't. Some of my plans can in no way be considered T, so I'll bump the rating.
All Trigger Warnings will be like this chapter's, I'll try to make the stuff easy to skip. I
know that some people don't like TWs because they spoil the chapter, but I think that
it's a small price to pay for allowing my readers to skip their triggers.
You may ask why I'd write about something as awful as date rape, and I think I have a
good reason. Izuku has seen smiling heroes punching villains all his life. The news
always makes it seem like some kind of sport to watch, and he views a lot of Heroics
as that. But if he wants to be like All Might, or better yet, the kind of hero he wants
Deku to be, then he can't keep the rose tinted glasses on.
On a happier note, spring break approaches for me, and probably for some of you. I
don't want to say that I'll up my productivity, because I might not, but I definitely
could. Someone asked me now I pump out so many chapters, and the answer is that
this is what I do in my down time. Seriously, when I'm not at school or busy with other
stuff I either read fics or write fics. I don't play video games, I don't hang with friends
because of Covid (I do zoom calls and text a lot though) and I'm not a social media
person (as evidenced by how awfully I handled Izuku's forray into Twitter). You guys
are literally reading the product of my bordum lol. Cheers!
A Taste of the Underworld
Chapter Notes
TW: implied child abuse/neglect, gun violence, graphic depictions of violence and
injury.
Starts at, "They're not wearing baggy clothes" ends at, "It's just in time, too"
Both will be made bold.
"I am here! I am here! I am he—!" Izuku's fist slams onto the top of his All Might alarm clock, the
boy groaning as he peels his face off of his pillow. He makes the mistake of inhaling and catches
the strong scent of body odor and morning breath with a soft hint of cheap coffee. He didn't shower
last night. Or brush his teeth. Or do anything other than pass out. He fixes his blurry vision on the
display of his alarm clock. Two PM. His mind goes into a panic because it's two PM on a weekday
and he's just woken up. But then he realizes.
Slipping out of bed, he throws off his shirt and kicks off his shorts, looking around for another set
of clothes that don't smell like death. He settles for a tank top and a random pair of baggy sweats
and stumbles out of his room, mind clouded by the early morning fog. Or is it the early afternoon
fog? Waking up at two is such a surreal experience that he can't quite grasp it. His internal clock is
screaming at him to have been up eight hours ago, but his brain can barely tell that something's
wrong. Perfect.
Breakfast is eggs and a few pieces of cold bacon with a big mug of coffee. It feels wrong to be
drinking caffeine at two PM while shoveling fried eggs into his mouth, but Izuku doesn't care. He
checks his phone while he eats, wincing when he sees that the battery is at five percent. He
answers a couple text messages and makes sure the ringer is on really loud so he'll know if
something goes wrong while he does… something.
With no classes, he's basically left to his own devices. He could run some errands, but leaving the
house without his phone isn't a smart idea, and he'd get a lot of weird looks for being a high school
kid out when school is in session. So Izuku drags out his weights. He doesn't have many, mostly
because he had the beach to build muscle and then the gym right after, but he has a few kettlebells
and a good selection of dumbbells to work with, so he figures that it won't hurt to exercise.
He lifts light, mostly getting a feel for what muscles might be sore. Not many are, and even then
it's only a slight bit of pain, so it's not like he'll pull anything. He works through some stretches too,
starting with his arms and moving down before doing some of the more adventurous ones
Midnight had given him. One for All improves his flexibility, but it can't exactly improve nothing,
so Izuku has to work on some pretty difficult stretches to get the maximum effect.
The splits are one of his favorites, mostly because no one he knows can do them, barring Midnight
who's a literal (officially recognized) contortionist. Another one he likes to do is the backward
bend. The end goal is to be able to bend enough to get his head between his knees, but that will
take a lot of time and hard work.
By the time he's done working out, it's only four thirty. He's due back at the station for another
patrol at nine, so he has a lot of time to kill. Izuku decides to dig through his old notebooks, looking
for interesting bits the younger him could've written. Some go into the newest editions while others
are laughed at for their inaccuracy. But by the time he's finished with that, it's barely past five.
Izuku quickly finds that not being productive makes him want to tear his hair out. He can't sit still,
he can't relax, and his mind won't stop running. He could be learning something right now or
working on a new move. Or better yet, going on a patrol in search of villains. He tries to look at his
phone and watch some TV, and remembers to take a shower and brush his teeth, but it doesn't stop
the thoughts from niggling in the back of his mind.
When the clock hits eight, it's like a massive wave of relief. He changes into something
comfortable, texts a few people where he's going, and walks out of the door. His mom is likely on
her way back from work, so he'll miss her, which is a bit sad, but he just can't take sitting around
with nothing to do for much longer. A quick train ride later, and Izuku's back in the station. But it's
not like it was the day previous.
Sturdy wooden barriers block off the entrance, with one gap on the side for easier access. A trio of
officers in riot gear stand watch, looking in every direction. Pedestrians pay it no more than a
second glance, though someone occasionally stops to look for a moment before hurrying along.
Izuku gradually slows to a halt in front of the barriers and nervously shifts from foot to foot.
"What're you doing here kid?" an officer says, voice gruff. "If you're just gonna stand a gawk, then
you gotta move along."
"I was told to meet here by Eraserhead, sir," Izuku says, trying to look the man in the eye through
his helmet. It's hard with the tinted visor, which is definitely a flaw in the gear since the sun's gone
down.
"Midorashi, right?" the officer says, not relaxing one bit. "Hero name Dancer?"
"Er, no," Izuku says, slowly reaching into his pocket for his hero license. "I'm Midoriya Izuku,
codename Deku." He holds the plastic card over to the officer, who eyes it critically. He nods.
"C'mon in," he says, pushing a barrier to the side. "You're a bit early, so you can check out some of
the stuff we've got in there. Try not to hog all the coffee, yeah?" His tone is much more pleasant
than before, and something clicks in Izuku's head.
"O-of course, sir," he says, walking past him. "Um, I hope you have an uneventful watch?" The
officer only laughs and shoos him inside, clearly smiling under his visor.
Walking through the police precinct is easy. Everything is clearly marked, and the hallways are big
and brightly lit. Officers roam the halls, going from room to room or office to office, more lead
freshly arrested individuals downstairs to the detention area, and detectives can be heard talking
about cases. Coffee is very prevalent as well, and Izuku probably walks by a dozen machines by
the time he gets to the Hero Room.
The Hero Room is just a basic meeting room with a table, filing cabinet, a whiteboard, a
corkboard, and a changing room. It overlooks the city, allowing for a pretty view of the freshly
risen moon over the skyline. Izuku plucks his costume case from a shelf and heads for the changing
room.
Eraserhead doesn't have an actual agency, which is common among underground types. Instead, he
has close ties to the police, who offer him a place to use as a base of operations so long as he
reports everything he sees that could lead to a bigger case. It's apparently a common arrangement,
and even this precinct has more than a few heroes in its walls.
Costume freshly on (and smelling of grime and sweat—hero work isn't as clean as it seems on TV),
Izuku checks over some of the paperwork from last night. The filing cabinet is neatly organized by
date, and the ones pertaining to Izuku are on the top. Pulling out the sheets he did and one Aizawa
did for reference, he sits down and double-checks his work.
His handwriting is more than a little sloppy, mostly because he was doing it while sleep-deprived.
He fixes a few errors and makes sure everything is in the same format as Aizawa's. There's not
much to change on that front—he had his work double-checked—but it's good practice for when he
has to do it on his own someday.
Izuku's halfway through proofreading his second sheet when there's a knock at the door. "Come
in," he says, looking over. The door swings open and in walks a familiar face. "Detective," he
greets.
"Good evening, Midoriya." Tsukauchi smiles, approaching and setting a few mugs of black coffee
on the table. There's a file folder tucked under his armpit, thick and messy, with lots of protruding
bits of paper. "Eraser running a bit late?"
Izuku shakes his head. "No, I'm just a bit early. What's that?" he asks, pointing to the folder.
"Just some information on a case I've been working on," the detective says, putting it down. "You
two are going to an area it applies to tonight, so I figured I'd keep your teacher privy to what he
should look out for. Did you have any trouble getting in?"
"No," Izuku answers honestly. "I just had to show my card and tell them who I was. Why were they
there?"
"We had a break-in at a precinct a few wards over," the detective sighs. "No one was hurt, but
some of our guns and ammunition were taken. We don't know what they might be used for, and the
criminals got their hands on some nasty stuff. Nothing too heavy, but we'd rather keep hollow
points out of non-police hands."
"Hollow points?" Izuku asks, not familiar with the term.
"A kind of bullet," Tsukauchi says, reaching into his trench coat and pulling out a magazine of
ammo. He pushes the topmost bullet out with his thumb and holds it out for Izuku to see. The point
has a little divot in it, instead of being perfectly rounded. "They don't go all the way through a body
when they're shot," he explains. "Of course, there's trade-offs. The things explode into little bits
once they hit, but they stay there. We use them so there's less of a chance to hit someone behind a
target."
Izuku winces. "That sounds awful."
Tsukauchi nods. "It is, but a long time ago it was decided that the hollow points were better for
police work than the standard full metal jacket rounds. In the hands of villains or criminals who
don't care about lives, though, they're far from ideal. Gun laws are already very strict here, which
helps quell firearm violence and limits most criminals to their Quirks. If you run into a villain with
a gun and a Quirk, and hollow point rounds…"
"It's not pretty." Izuku nods, understanding.
"Exactly, hence the extra security so no one gets the same idea." The detective slips the magazine
back into his jacket pocket. He puts a finger on the file folder. "Make sure Eraser reads that. And
good luck tonight."
"I will, thanks." Izuku waves as the detective leaves, taking one of the cups of coffee for himself
and going back to his paperwork. A look at the file is tempting but could also very well be illegal,
or worse, not something Aizawa would let him see in the first place.
"Problem Child." Izuku looks up from the table to see Aizawa, hands in his pockets. His costume
looks a bit worse for wear than the other day, with a few scratches, and his scarf is looking much
less thick.
"Good evening, sir." Izuku stands, picking up the file and handing it to him. "Detective Tsukauchi
wanted you to look at this." Aizawa takes the folder and cracks it open, eyes skimming over the
first page before he turns it over and looks at the second. More sheets of paper are overturned, and
even some photographs are looked at.
"Are you ready?" the man asks, walking over to the filing cabinet and slipping the file into the
bottommost drawer.
"I am," Izuku answers. "Um… what was in that file?"
"All the evidence for a recent string of missing persons," Aizawa says, walking back over to the
doorway. "We're heading to a poorer area tonight, and that's where all of the victims have been
taken from. Most of what I looked at were the recurring events."
"What are they?" Izuku follows his teacher out the door and down the hall, nodding at the
occasional police officer.
"Missing windows, lots of dust, and no evidence more than ten feet from where the victims were
taken from," Aizawa lists. "Most of the victims were children, four to eight, and from low-income
families. They all had a bedroom window, and the motivation for the kidnapping is unknown."
"Will we be getting involved?" Izuku asks. "They're obviously using some kind of Quirk to break
in if the windows are totally gone and not broken, and they gotta have a means of untraceable
transport."
"Perhaps," Aizawa says. They're out of the building now and are looking at the rooftops above.
"There's too many unknowns right now, and the police are holding out hope for a random demand.
If there's more evidence or a way for us to know where the children might be, we could be asked to
help. But even then, I might not let you."
Izuku blinks. "Why not?"
"Last night, remember?" Aizawa says simply. "Sixteen year old first years aren't ready for some
things. If there's something that even suggests particularly heinous activity, I'm pulling you out."
"I…" Izuku hums, not sure how to feel. Annoyance is the first emotion that bubbles up, but he
forces it down because it's just wrong. Aizawa cares, and he respects Izuku. He's not doing it
because he thinks Izuku's weak. But still, being kept from helping doesn't sit well.
"Don't think about it too much," Aizawa advises, pushing up his goggles, officially becoming
Eraserhead. "We might not be needed. The officers here are good and are working around the
clock already. Focus on tonight first and worry about the future later."
"Yes, sir."
Like the night previous, they spend a good chunk of time going from the station to their patrol area.
They don't see any crimes being committed, but the quality of the roads and buildings gradually
decreases as they approach. Smooth cement rooftops give way to cracked blacktop, and the
streetlights go from a soft white to an aged yellow to non-existent. It stinks, too. Sewage, dead
animals, and smoke fill Izuku's nostrils, and his eyes begin to water.
"Disgusting, isn't it?" Eraserhead says, stopping for a moment on top of an apartment building.
"Crime is rampant in places like these. Some of the older underground pros say it's because they've
got nothing to lose."
"Is that what you think?" Izuku asks, looking down at the dirty street below.
"I think it's illogical to generalize a massive population like this," Eraserhead grumbles. "But yes,
the rate of villainy and regular crime is higher among the poor. The desperate don't care for the
law, and the scum of the world like to stick near them—easier to blend in that way. Keep an eye
out, kid. There'll be a lot more drug busts and vandalism tonight."
And he's right. They don't go half of a block before they run into a mugging. Everything moves so
fast that Izuku doesn't have time to react. Eraserhead takes care of it, wrapping the mugger up in
his scarf and flaring his Quirk for good measure. The person being mugged thanks them and
scampers off, and transport arrives soon enough. Izuku does his part by searching the mugger for
more weapons and making sure they're secure before seeing them off. It's fine—perfect, even—but
something remains in the back of his mind.
"He didn't use his Quirk," Izuku says, referring to the mugger. "And… lots of people last night
didn't, either. Why?"
"Any crime committed with a Quirk is considered villainy," Eraserhead explains. "Villain courts
are much more unforgiving, and most people don't want to spend time in a villain prison. And a
good amount of criminals are repeat offenders who've done time. Using a knife instead of a Quirk
gets the same effect and doesn't carry as harsh of a sentence if you get busted, so the choice is
obvious. There's also the possibility that they had useless Quirks."
"Useless Quirks?"
"Powers that don't have obvious combat capabilities," Eraserhead corrects. "You can't exactly
threaten someone by changing your eye color or with perfect memory. Well, you could if you're
crafty enough, but back alley muggers like that guy couldn't."
"But… that's a major loophole in the law," Izuku says, focusing on the man's first statement rather
than the second. "If someone kills someone else but without a Quirk, then they'll get a lesser
sentence than someone who used a Quirk to do it. That just feels wrong."
"I don't make the rules, kid," Eraserhead grumbles. "And I think it's unfair too, but we can't exactly
change it. Let's just focus on getting more criminals off the street."
Muggings seem to be the most common crime on the streets. Eraserhead stops five, and Izuku
himself gets a few, too. No Quirks, but that's to be expected now. Most of the muggers use knives,
though one is big and burly enough to threaten someone with his bare hands. It takes two people to
transport that one, and then there's talk about waiting for a van or heavier restraints. But
Eraserhead doesn't care to stick around in one place for too long and leaves as soon as the criminal
is secure.
It's not all muggings, though. Eraserhead's phone vibrates in his pocket while they're looking over
an alley, and the man takes it out of his pocket and immediately stands. "The break-in alarm was
triggered at a nearby pawn shop," he says. "We've probably got two minutes to get there and stop
them. Pick me up with one of your whips and fly three blocks north."
Izuku does so wordlessly, doing his best to keep the green lighting from showing up on his skin,
but it's hard. The effort is comparable to keeping your hand over the opening of a freshly shaken
soda. The pressure is continuous, and the more he tries to use his Quirk, the more pressure there is.
And One for All itself doesn't make it easier. It hasn't been allowed to go crazy for a while and is
constantly flitting about in the back of his mind, reminding him that it's due for some fun.
But they still get there in time.
Eraserhead has him land on top of a building across from the pawn shop, which has a broken
window and a small amount of light, probably from a phone or a small flashlight. "Wait here," the
man orders. "Let them get comfy with their haul first, then jump them when they least expect it."
"You want me to do it?" Izuku asks.
"If there's only one of them, yes," he says. "Shouldn't be too dangerous, especially if their hands are
full. If there's two or more, we'll do it together."
They wait for two minutes. It's a little uncomfortable lying on a dirty roof, but the flickering of
light inside the shop is enough to make Izuku push aside any unnecessary thoughts. Still, though,
his costume is going to need a good wash after this.
After two minutes, they're rewarded with the target. They're small and slink out of the shattered
window like it's nothing, wearing a heavy-looking duffle bag over their shoulder. They look around
warily, hands inching towards the waistband. A weapon, most definitely. Probably a knife, but
possibly a gun or a pair of knuckle dusters. No one exits behind them, and Izuku slowly stands,
analyzing the area below.
There are not many places to launch a sneak attack from. Everything is too open, and the buildings
are too short. Nonetheless, he readies himself. Fakeout Style will be a good asset for this. Bait out
an attack from the front, dodge around back, and snatch them with a whip. He could try for the
grab from the roof, but the range means more power, and more power means green lighting, and
green lighting means he'll be very visible. Up close it is.
As the robber starts to slink away from the pawn shop, Izuku lifts into the air, grabbing an empty
beer bottle off the roof in one hand and rushing in front of the target. He drops down thirty or so
feet in front of them, chucking the bottle against the street off to the side. The robber freezes and
angles their head to look at the shattered glass. Izuku pounces.
Dashing forward, he aims a kick with his white boot at the person's head. They duck instinctively,
but only just. Izuku casts a whip to the ground, pulling himself to a stop, and then throws out
another, bigger, one right at the small of the robber's back. By all means, he has them. But then,
something comes out of the person.
Hot pink and moss green light erupts, not quite blinding Izuku but close to it, and his whip bounces
off some form of barrier. Not one to give up, Izuku pivots on one foot to gain momentum and
slams his other leg into the barrier at twenty-four percent. It breaks with a glass-like crack, and the
robber goes flying. He snatches them up with Blackwhip and slowly makes his way forward.
"Breaking and entering, theft, and illegal Quirk use," Izuku lists, loud and clear. The robber
struggles in their bindings, but it's pointless. Blackwhip is nearly indestructible, and even if they do
escape, then Izuku can easily overpower them again. That's not to say he lets his guard down,
though. In fact, he keeps a close eye on them and his surroundings.
"Damnit, damnit, damnit!" the robber yells, kicking at the ground and leaning for the duffle bag at
their feet. They're hooded, and there's also a ski mask on their head, so it's hard to tell their gender.
It doesn't help that their voice is androgynous. "Let me go!"
"No can do," Izuku says, flicking his eyes over to the building he jumped from to see Eraserhead
walking down the street, typing something on his phone one-handed. "You'll have to be brought
in."
"No!" the robber says, their thrashing intensifying. Izuku opts to shut them out and focus on
Eraserhead.
"Good work, kid," the man praises, slipping his phone in his pocket. "I listed the break-in as
resolved, and there'll be transport for them soon. Nice use of the bottle."
"Thank you, sir," Izuku says, bashful under the kind words. "Do you need me to search them?"
"I'll do that myself." Eraserhead motions for the criminal (or is it villain now? They had used their
Quirk, but in self-defense, and in all fairness Izuku could easily be mistaken for a criminal in the
dark of the night, so maybe it was okay?) to be brought closer, and Izuku complies. He even goes
the extra mile and rearranges his hold so the person's limbs are bound by the ankles and wrists.
The first thing Eraserhead does is a quick pat-down. They're wearing baggy pants and a loose-
fitting hoodie, so he takes his time and makes sure he doesn't miss anything. A pair of brass
knuckles come out of their right pocket, and a box of cigarettes and a lighter come out of the
hoodie pocket. The whole while, the thief swears at them, yelling that they've ruined their life.
Izuku ignores it. Until Eraserhead pulls off the mask.
They're not wearing baggy clothes. They're malnourished, awfully so. Their cheekbones are
sunken in, and a bit of their upper chest is peeking out of the collar of their top. The skin is pale,
lined with blue veins, and very clearly stretched over bone. No muscle, no fat. A collar of bruises
wraps around their neck, looking like handprints, and an eye is swollen shut. Their hair is straw-
like and thin, dyed a mixture of pink and green. Eraserhead freezes at the same time Izuku does.
"Don't go soft just 'cause I'm a fuckin' brat," the teen spits (Izuku hopes it's a teen. No child—no
one in general—should look like that, but the thought of them being a middle or elementary
schooler makes his gut wrench). Even that gesture is pathetic; the spittle barely leaves their mouth
and instead drips down their skinny chin. "If I'm gonna have my shit rocked, I'm gonna take it like
a champ."
Eraserhead takes a deep breath and motions for Izuku to drop his strands. He does so cautiously but
grabs the bag of stolen goods for safety, along with the cigarettes, lighter, and brass knuckles. "We
don't want to hurt you," the man says softly. "But we do need to take you in. Believe me when I
say that—"
Bangcrack! Bangcrackcrackcrack!
Eraserhead and the teen both jump, and Izuku instinctively grabs them both with Blackwhip,
bringing them in close and covering them both with his body and some extra strands. He looks
around, but…
"That was a few streets over," Eraserhead says gravely. Izuku lets him go but keeps the teen close.
"How many other heroes are in the area?" Izuku asks.
"Maybe two. Less now that I cancelled the beacon sending people here for the break-in," the man
grimaces. "I'll send in an active fire warning. That was at least two guns, maybe more."
"What do we do with him?" Izuku asks, looking at the teenager, who's wrapped up in Blackwhip
and looking much less confident than before.
"I'm a they, you fucker." Much less confident doesn't mean any more polite.
"With them," Izuku corrects, ducking as more gunfire echoes through the city streets.
"We can't leave them in an active fire zone," Eraserhead says. "It's not safe for them or us. But we
might be the only ones close enough to do anything. People could be bleeding out right now."
"Is transport still coming?" Izuku looks up at the sky, itching to go as soon as he can.
"Not anymore, now that guns are going off," Eraserhead sighs.
"The rooftops," Izuku says suddenly, coming to a realization. "We can take them up to a taller
building and tie them up. Far from the edge, too, just in case bullets go astray."
"You do that," Eraserhead orders, pulling some capture tape from his belt and tossing it over.
"Make sure they're secure and then come to back me up. Ambulances are probably on their way,
and we need the streets clear before they arrive."
"Yes, sir!"
They split off, Eraserhead pulling himself up to a building and sprinting across to the site of the
gunshots, and Izuku takes the criminal to the tallest rooftop he can see. It's an apartment building,
about five stories tall and with lots of junk on top. He quickly finds a sturdy-looking pole, which is
probably a gas or water meter, and has the teenager sit down and wrap their arms and legs around
it. Then he ties them securely, double and triple-checking.
"You'll be safe here," Izuku says as calmly as he can manage. He forces a smile. "I won't forget
you're here, and I'll be back soon."
"I ain't safe nowhere," the teen grumbles, angered, but looking out across the roof in the directions
the shots are coming from. Another flurry of cracks and bangs reminds Izuku that he's needed and
doesn't have time to unpack their words.
"I'll be back," Izuku repeats, kicking off the roof.
"Yeah, I bet you will," they mutter, craning their neck to watch.
The flight over takes less than a minute, but halfway through there's a massive amount of gunfire,
and he drops down to street level, cautiously peeking around corners and straining his hearing to
see if he can pick up the noise of bodies over the deafening bangs, which have definitely gotten
louder as he gets closer.
Pushing against a brick wall, Izuku inches forwards. If he's right, then the firefight is on the next
street. He keeps moving, trying to keep his heart from beating out of his chest. Blood roars through
his ears, and adrenaline courses through his veins. He takes a few deep breaths and looks out to the
street.
Flashes and bangs greet him along with the occasional sign of movement. Eraserhead is nowhere to
be seen, but Izuku doesn't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing. It looks like a three or maybe
four-way fight, with fire coming from across the street and to his left. A bit further down, there are
shots coming from behind a big moving truck, the kind they haul furniture in. Izuku sweeps his
eyes around, looking for a better (and, most importantly, safe) spot to watch. He's been taught that
it's best to get a good read on the situation before doing anything, and the last thing he wants is to
be shot.
He looks right, poking his head out just a touch to see further down the street. "Oh no," he
mumbles. There's an overturned sedan, with a cracked windshield and bits of dark-colored metal
strewn around it. A tall man periodically stands up from behind it to fire with his pistol, but it's
slow and sloppy, and he keeps one hand on his shoulder. And, if Izuku really looks hard, he can see
hints of people (his mind refuses to think of them as bodies, not yet) lying on the floor. Blood is
there, too—lots of it. Bleeding out is the number one cause of gun-related deaths. It takes about a
minute and a half, maybe less, to succumb to it. The shots were fired just over a minute ago. If
Izuku doesn't act, someone could die.
His body moves before an actual thought. It's predictable, really, but Izuku doesn't care.
He becomes a green blur in the night, tackling the big man with the gun and sending him
sprawling. He tries to bring the weapon to bear, but Izuku pushes it to the side. It goes off not two
inches from his head, sending a wave of tinnitus through him, but that doesn't do anything to stop
his movement. The gun is twisted out of the hand and thrown aside, and Izuku quickly knocks the
man out with a heel to the underside of his chin. Once he's out cold, Izuku grabs him and the three
others behind him with Blackwhip and sprints as fast as he dares with four shot men in his care.
He makes it to the opposite side of the street and ducks into another alley, gently setting the injured
down. Two are awake; two are not. He treats the awake first, bandaging one man's leg and another
man's gut. Both worry him, but shots to the extremities are more deadly. Arms and legs have vital
arteries, particularly around the groin area, and the man shot in the leg got hit in the upper middle
part of the thigh. And on top of that, the man shot in the lower stomach only has an entrance
wound. The bullet is still inside of him. Hollow points. There's a chance that they're regular rounds,
but with the way the detective spoke of them, he's not exactly brimming with hope. The man might
be too far—
No, not now. There are still two hit people. "Keep pressure on your wounds!" he barks, doing his
best imitation of Five. "Don't you dare bleed out on me!" He pops another roll of bandages out of
his belt and wraps the shoulder of the man he knocked out. Blood gushes out, spilling onto his
costume. There's already some from earlier, but it's just so much more noticeable now. He can feel
his heart beating faster, and his breathing starts to speed up as well.
He finishes the wrap on the shoulder. There's no exit wound. He moves on to the next man, forcing
himself not to think about it. The final victim is probably the worst. There are shards of glass
embedded in his side, horrifyingly close to where one of his lungs and liver are. Izuku leaves them
in, not wanting to risk causing more bleeding when he's already short on gauze. There are also two
bullets in him, one right in the kneecap and the other on the bicep. Both are gushing blood, but he
wraps the arm first. But that takes up the rest of his bandages. Cursing like a sailor, he rips the shirt
off the man he knocked out (there's not much left, and he makes sure to not disturb the bullet hole)
and uses it to wrap the man's knee.
Izuku checks the man's pulse. It's there, but barely. He's done what he can for them now, and his
mind refocuses on the gunfight happening. "You two, keep pressure on their injuries if you can. No
one's going to die tonight." He doesn't even bother with checking if they obey him or not. Instead,
he peeks around the corner and into the street.
The fighting has cooled off. Izuku hopes it's because they've run out of ammo. The moving truck
down the road is completely silent, but the two sides across the street from each other are still
active, yelling curses and shooting guns, but slower than before. Definitely close to running out of
ammo, but it's the lack of activity from the moving truck that's worrying. Shot people might be
over there. He needs to fly over and bandage them up, but with what? Then, he sees it. A flash of
crimson, from two distinct lights.
Eraserhead has dealt with the ones behind the truck. Izuku signals back, lighting up a fist with
green light for just a few moments. There are two more flashes of light, then his phone vibrates.
Cops on way. Ambulance 2. Backup ?. Wait til out of bullets, then attack behind.
Izuku sends back a quick yes, then goes back to watching the fight. It's hard to do so since there
could be more wounded in the two shops the gunmen are using for cover, but he has to defer to
Eraserhead, and this way is much safer for the both of them.
The gunfire gradually slows down and is replaced with Quirks. Hunks of brick and stone are
thrown across the street, joined by jets of flame and the occasional sound wave. Down the road,
Izuku sees the glow of Erasure. It's time.
Izuku watches a shadowy figure head for the right side, so he goes left, rising to the top of the shop
in search of an entry point. He finds one in the form of an air vent. It's a little cliche, but it'll keep
him from being seen and therefore being shot because there's no way the fighters are completely
out of ammo, just close to being so.
Moving through the vents is hard. They're made of thin metal which won't support his weight, so
Izuku is forced to use Float. On top of that, he has to keep the power low so no light or electric
crackling gives him away. Soon, he has a clear view down to the villains.
They're fighting with all they have, desperation clear on their faces. There are sirens now, heard
clearly through the early morning streets. They know cops are coming and, with them, heroes. But
they don't know that Deku and Eraserhead are right here, right now.
Backing up in the vent a little (his view was in front of the villains, and therefore in the line of fire),
Izuku braces himself. He has to do this in one movement, faster than the villains can react. He's
nervous, but that's irrelevant. Lives are on the line.
Izuku kicks through the air vent and the plaster ceiling with one punch, dropping to the floor. He's
already let Blackwhip free, and One for All happily snatches the villains up before they can blink.
Izuku sighs in relief, happy that they're all caught and have no injuries. Then, he flinches as a rod
of metal zooms right through the broken window front, aimed right at his head. One for All reacts
faster than he can, blocking the piece of steel with a strand of Blackwhip.
Thank you. Izuku thinks. One for All swims about angrily, the black tentacles under its control
twisting in midair. Watch your own back, idiot, it seems to say. Izuku only chuckles and takes
cover in case someone else decides to take a potshot at him.
He waits under cover for a few seconds then carefully peeks out. The glow of Erasure is emitting
from the shop across the street, bold and for all the world to see. Izuku breathes a sigh of relief and
steps outside, villains in tow.
It's just in time, too, because ambulances are arriving, followed closely by police cars and even a
few fire engines, and, most importantly, heroes. EMTs rush out, first to Izuku, who lets them look
the villains over and tells them that there are more in both directions of the street and in the
opposite building. The villains who aren't injured are quickly searched and locked in a police van,
and the ones that are injured are carefully placed in ambulances or strapped to transport type
heroes.
"Midoriya," Eraserhead says, rushing over to him. There's a small paramedic trailing behind him,
swearing up a storm and trying to keep a bit of gauze on a cut on his left shoulder. "Are you okay?"
He looks worried, and Izuku is only just now remembering that he's covered in blood.
"Y-yeah, I'm fine. No injuries here, i-it's not my blood." He smiles weakly. "Well, my ears are still
ringing, but it's fine."
Aizawa (because he's Aizawa now—the lack of goggles makes it obvious) looks at him seriously
for a moment. "Look him over," he orders the paramedic. They rush to obey, looking for damage
to his costume and shining a light in his ears. It's completely unnecessary, but Izuku doesn't mind
playing along.
"... You can't get those guys to the hospital yourself?" Izuku looks over to see a tall police officer
talking to an equally tall ambulance driver.
"We can, but two of them could very well die before they get there. We're stabilizing now, but the
hospital is ten minutes away." The ambulance driver looks around the area at all the heroes, who
are mostly picking through the shot-out buildings for evidence or stragglers. "Are there any heroes
who could get two ambulances to the hospital faster than they can drive?"
Izuku looks up at Aizawa, who's already looking down at him. He looks tired, but nods.
"The robber from earlier is tied up on the tallest building on the street of the pawn shop," Izuku
says, already walking over. "Don't forget them!"
"I won't," Aizawa says, trailing behind. "They'll be safe."
"Thank you." Izuku flashes a smile over his shoulder before tapping the ambulance driver on the
back. "Sir, I can get the wounded there."
The driver sizes him up. "What's your Quirk?"
"Flight and super strength," Izuku lists. "I can carry them, and fly over all the streets. My top speed
is about eighty miles an hour—er, um I mean about a hundred-thirty kilometers."
"Over there, now," the driver says, pointing to a pair of ambulances. Izuku nods and hurries, taking
to the air and mentally preparing himself. A building nearly gave him irreversible damage. Two
ambulances would be painful, and more difficult to manage, but he could do it. "We're ready!"
Four whips shoot from his back, each a little bit smaller than a telephone pole. They wrap around
an ambulance, two each, and Izuku heaves. It's hard to intentionally hurt oneself, but Izuku's done
it before, at the Sports Festival, so he's ready. The pain is very prominent but easily brushed aside.
Lives are on the line. He's not important.
He starts to fly, directed with an arm hanging out one of the windows as a guide, going as fast as he
can. He tries to keep the ambulances steady behind him, but there's some rocking. It's a windless
night, which makes it easier, but hauling cargo this big is still a challenge. The ambulances both
add extra drag, hindering his top speed. But still, he pushes on. He can't let them die. Criminals,
villains, and gunmen they may be, but death wasn't an option. Not to Izuku, and not to the EMTs
either.
Two minutes in, and he sees the hospital. It's tall, ten or so stories. The arm guiding him points up,
so Izuku rises. There's a helipad, and probably a bunch of doctors waiting, on the roof. Gritting his
teeth, Izuku pushes harder. He's so close he can see the individual windows of the hospital rooms.
The helipad blinks, too, guiding him.
Izuku hits the roof, trailing the ambulances, which he set down gently. The moment he releases
Blackwhip, the back doors of the vehicles slam open. Gurneys are out, rushing to the door in. Izuku
watches as they open, revealing more healthcare workers. The two wounded look bad, but they're
at the hospital now. It's the best he can do.
Chapter End Notes
Yeah, it went to shit. It wouldn't be a Deku work study if it didn't. Some plot threads
were established for this arc and some little side events, which will be brought up next
chapter, which won't be as bad violence wise.
If you're wondering about Hollow Point bullets, they're a thing, and they do exactly as
described. Police use them for the same reason the detective said, and they're really
popular here in America for self defense.
I'm in a rather conservative and gun friendly state, so believe me when I say I've heard
(and even shot) real guns before. Nothing big, but the sound is nothing like what it is
in movies and TV. Well, it is but the magnitude is off. A lot of works describe it as a
crack, others a bang, and more a roar. It's like all of those at once, and at the volume
three or four times greater then how loud your headphones can get. I still get
occasional tennitus from when my Grampa shot a shotgun with me not ten steps
behind him. But, like, ears are different for each person. I might have it, but my dad
(who's been around more guns then me) doesn't, so take that with a grain of salt.
Some of you caught the J Jonah Jameson reference in the last chapter, which is nice. A
lot of you seem to like the wake up call I'm giving Izuku, which is great to hear. I've
had two people ask about an update schedule, which... Do you guys want one?
Because I've no problem with holding on to a chapter for a day or so so you all know
when he's updated.
I hope you enjoyed, cheers!

Viral Again
Chapter Notes
Izuku asks if they're supposed to go back on patrol once he regroups with Eraserhead. The young
teenager has already been taken to the station, mostly to be processed for the attempted theft but
also for their own protection. Aizawa looks at him like he's absolutely insane and has them hitch a
ride in a police cruiser. Izuku awkwardly sits on a towel, still slightly damp with blood.
They make it back by one AM, which feels way too soon. Had patrol really been that short? The
firefight felt like it lasted hours, and the flight to the hospital even longer than that. But the clocks
don't lie. Their outing only lasted three hours.
The station is even more heavily guarded than earlier, with double the riot officers and a hero
keeping watch from a nearby building. They let Izuku and Aizawa through without question,
though there are many worried and odd looks because of Izuku's costume, which makes him feel
dirty. He wants to take it off as soon as possible, but he'll have to wait. Reports are top priority.
The shootout takes priority, obviously. Aizawa and Izuku both give their accounts, from when the
first shots were heard all the way to when Izuku landed on the roof of the hospital. They give
written descriptions of all of the gunmen and what damage they did to the shops. There's even a
mention of getting looked at by paramedics again, if only to get another all-clear from a
professional, but it's deemed unnecessary, and the two are allowed to resume normal duties, which
is just a fancy way of ordering them to do more paperwork. Aizawa makes a quick stop at a
clothing store and buys some clothes for Izuku to change into before they do, though. Izuku even
showers at the station, getting all the grit and grime off of his body, trying to ignore how the water
flowing to the drain is dyed red.
Doing paperwork is like a shock to the system. Izuku doesn't realize he's still in battle mode until
he's sitting at a desk, looking blankly at a sheet of paper. He keeps expecting more gunshots or
screams of pain, but they never come. It should be a relief, but it does little to calm his nerves.
Aizawa keeps a focused eye on him, offering coffee and, as stereotypical of a police station,
donuts. All the sugar isn't good for him, but eating something sweet is a small comfort.
The paperwork gets done quicker than yesterday, mostly because Izuku isn't learning how to do it.
He spends a little bit of time looking over his bloody costume, which Aizawa assures him can be
washed. No one at the station knows how the wounded from earlier are, which acts like a weight
in the back of his mind. He hopes he got them there in time. The last thing he wants are deaths on
his hands.
"They're having trouble talking to the kid we brought in," Aizawa says, closing Izuku's costume
case for him. The man looks exhausted, and Izuku's sure he does, too. "I won't force you to, but
some of the officers think they might respond better to a person their age."
Izuku's stomach grumbles. The kid (it felt wrong to call another teenager a kid, but they're just so
small and scruffy that it's hard not to) must be even more hungry than he is. And a lot of other
things, too. Scared, angry, lonely, and exhausted. Izuku hopes their cell is warm and comfy.
"I'll do it, but can we pick up some stuff first?"
They look like total nutjobs as they shop. A dead-looking underground hero with ragged clothes, a
bloody scarf, and a bandaged arm, tailing a well-muscled teenager in a shirt a size too small with
damp hair. Not that it stops them—Izuku knows exactly what the kid in the cell needs and is very
much determined to help them. And even if they look like maniacs, they blend right in with the
kinds of people in a cheap convenience store at two AM anyways.
Izuku picks out junk food. Not a lot of it, but he reads a ton of labels, looking for the most sugary,
calorie-dense stuff. He settles on a big slice of pepperoni pizza, a soda, and a king-sized candy bar.
He gets some stuff for himself—just a sandwich and a bottle of water—and heads up to the
register. He tries to pay, but Aizawa stops him. Then, the man points to behind the counter where
all the tobacco products are and picks out a small blue box. They walk out a few moments later.
Back at the station, Izuku makes sure everything survived the trip over and follows an officer
down to the detention cells. The kid is all the way down at the end, and he's left alone with them.
Less chance of them talking if there are cops and adults around, is what everyone figures. Izuku is
told to pry a little for key information, but that the kid's comfort and trust is the real priority.
"Hello," Izuku greets, sitting down on the floor next to all of the food. He not so subtly arranges
the items so they're clearly seen from the other side of the bars. The kid is lying in the bed the cell
has, looking up at the ceiling with their eyes closed. "Are you awake?"
They twitch, their head rolling to the side and one of their arms pushing against the mattress,
propping them up. "What do you want?" they ask, moody. They look even worse under the white
lights of the cell and hallway, their skin becoming more sickly-looking and their bruises becoming
more noticeable. A scar runs across their forehead, perfectly straight and going from temple to
temple.
"To talk," Izuku answers, forcing himself to not get caught up in their appearance. He pushes the
slice of pizza forward along with the soda. "And I brought food. Want some?" Their stomach
grumbles, and Izuku stands, picking up the gas station meal. There's a small opening with a shelf in
the cell. He puts the food on it and smiles warmly. Gingerly, the teen climbs out of the bed and
walks forward. They take the food without a word and wolf it down.
Izuku waits patiently as they eat, digging into his own sandwich and sipping on his water. He's got
maybe a half hour before he's due home, and as much as he wants to pick their brain for as much
information as possible, he can't. It would make them clam up, and it would just feel wrong. So he
waits and plans out what to say.
"Got any more?" they ask, licking their fingers, which are still dirty with all kinds of filth. There's a
sink and toilet in the cell, so by all means they should've cleaned up a bit by now. The fact that
they haven't is telling.
"No," Izuku replies. "You… look like you haven't eaten in a while, or if you have, it wasn't much.
And if you eat a bunch of food, you'd probably barf it all up." He shrugs. "I'll get you some more
tomorrow, and the cops will keep you fed, too."
"Like I'll be in here tomorrow," they scoff, sitting back down on the bed and cracking open the
bottle of soda.
"You committed a crime," Izuku says, intentionally making it seem like a bigger deal than it
actually is. "And you used your Quirk on me, a hero in training. You'll have to face some form of
punishment, even if you're just a kid."
"I'm thirteen, thank you very much." They guzzle down a mouthful of soda and let out an impolite
and loud belch. Izuku files that bit of information away, happy that his strategy is off to a good
start. "And the cops don't want nothin' to do with a rat like me, so they'll give me the boot once this
place fills up."
"Have you been to this precinct before?" They shake their head. "Oh. The one near your h… in that
city must be really busy. This one isn't, so you'll definitely be in here a while. You're technically a
villain now, too, though your age makes it a bit of a grey area."
"Yeah, but they can't do anything if I keep my mouth shut." They lean back, hands behind their
head. "Can't punish what you don't know."
"I saw your Quirk. And they have your fingerprints," Izuku says calmly. The teen stiffens. "A
barrier, green and pink. Pretty distinctive, and by law every child in Japan has to keep their Quirk
profile updated. It won't be hard to figure out who you are from what I've seen. Then they'll call up
your parents, and—"
"Shut. Up," they mutter, eyes squeezed shut. Izuku keeps quiet, heart plummeting. Their hands
start to creep up to their bruised neck, but they jerk them back down, sliding them under their
thighs. Child abuse. It's the most logical explanation.
"We want to help you," Izuku says, standing up and approaching the bars. He grabs one in each
hand, carefully leaning his head into an opening. "The officers here, and me and Aizawa, want you
to be safe. And if you tell us what's happening—"
"That won't help." They stand, hands shoved deep into the pockets of their pants. They start to
pace, never once looking at Izuku. "The bastard's strong; he'll fuck up any two-bit hero or cop easy
then get away. And the fact that you tried to do something will get him even more pissed."
"Even if we're just two-bit heroes, we've got friends," Izuku says. "And some of them are pretty
strong. We can and will protect you."
They only roll their eyes and go back to pacing. Izuku lets them, watching in what he hopes is a
non-creepy way. They're very antsy, he notices. Lots of quick steps, jerky movements, and quick
looks. Every now and then, a hand reaches into the pocket of their hoodie and instantly comes out
empty.
"You want a cigarette."
"No shit, sherlock," they spit. "I wanna lot of things right now, but a smoke would be fucking
amazing." A thin blue box hits the floor of the cell and skids to a stop at their feet. They bend
down to pick it up, looking at the package like it personally offended them. "The hell's this?"
"Nicotine patches." Izuku looks over at the clock on the wall. He doesn't have too much time left.
"Aizawa thought you might need them. For withdrawal. They're not exactly good for you, but we
can't just let you smoke. Think of this as an opportunity to quit."
"Fuckin' great," they swear, ripping open the box and pulling out a patch. They think for a moment
before pulling one arm through a sleeve of their hoodie and slipping it under the hem. Izuku forces
himself to look at how skinny and banged up it is, wanting to make sure he knows how bad the
situation is. Their ribs are showing, practically poking through the skin. Their hips point outwards
painfully, barely managing to keep their pants up.
"How fast is this shit supposed to work?" they ask, refitting their hoodie.
"Read the box," he replies. "And please try to not waste them. I can bring you more, but it won't be
until tomorrow."
"Smartass," they say, bending down to pick up the discarded box. "Why the hell are you even
down here? Shouldn't kid heroes be studying for school?"
"I wanted to see you," Izuku says honestly. Even if it was only to make sure they're okay in the
cell.
"The cops made you do this, didn't they?" The teen leans back against the wall. Izuku can't tell how
they feel about it.
"The police asked me to," he says. "I agreed. But even if they didn't, I still would've tried to come
down here."
"Why?"
"Because it's a hero's job to make sure people are safe."
The teen snorts loudly, rolling their eyes and fighting back a belly laugh. Izuku watches, a bit
miffed but more relieved that they can laugh. "You… oh, god, you actually believe that shit!"
Izuku sighs, a bit embarrassed. He looks down the hall and sees an officer patiently waiting, arms
crossed. "I do," he says, "because I think it's worth believing in. Um… I've got to go now. I'll see
you tomorrow!" He leaves, the sound of the teen laughter echoing off the stone walls of the
detention floor.
Izuku is taken upstairs by the officer and led to a small meeting room. Inside is Aizawa, along with
another officer, this one a dressed-down version of the usual uniform. The officer, an average-
looking man, looks over to Aizawa. "You have anything you want to ask him first?"
"No. Go ahead." The officer nods and stands out of his seat, extending a hand for Izuku to shake.
He takes it, noting how rough and calloused the man's hand is.
"I'm the juvenile specialist here at this precinct. I deal with people like the one you just spoke to,
along with their parents, schools, and even their places of work."
"Nice to meet you, sir." Izuku lets go of the hand and takes a chair across the table from him and
Aizawa. "What do you want to know?"
"A lot of things, but most importantly is whether or not that child is being abused," the officer says,
pulling out a pad and pen.
"I think they are," Izuku admits. "They said something about a person being mad and us not being
able to stop them. I don't think they feel safe."
The officer nods, scribbling something on the pad of paper. "And did they describe this person in
any way?"
"They called him a bastard and claimed that he could take care of any cops and most heroes who
try to arrest him," Izuku recounts. "They were anxious while talking about him, and I don't think it
was just because they wanted a cigarette."
"I see. Did they give anything else away? Were they being forced to commit that robbery? Did
they say how long they've been in this situation?" The officer looks at him expectantly.
"Um, that they’re thirteen, I don't know, and they didn't say," Izuku lists. "In that order. Can I ask
what you plan to do with them?"
"It depends," the officer sighs, twirling his pen. "We can keep them here for a while—they did
commit a crime, after all. But in two weeks, we'll be forced to send them to an actual jail or juvenile
detention center. They'll be in the system then, if we can't figure out who they are before. Their
guardian will be contacted, and they'll be given a court date."
"But they're being abused," Izuku points out. "Calling their guardian will only let their abuser
know what happened to them."
"And that's why we want to prevent that," the officer says. "Your description of their Quirk will
help a lot, along with the fingerprints we took. With any luck, we'll have a name to match their
face and some suspects for who their abuser may be. Your job is to make sure they know they're
safe here and that we can be trusted. If you could get them to admit that they're being abused, that
would also be amazing for their case."
"Do you want me to go back down there?" Izuku asks, wanting to help more now that he knows
what the plan is.
The officer shakes his head. "Not tonight. It's best to ease them into this. Short visits every day
will do the trick, and you've already helped us a bunch. Go home and sleep. I know that's what
Eraserhead here wants you to do."
"Is that all?" Aizawa says dully. The officer nods and packs up to leave without another word. The
student and teacher are left alone in relative silence. "Are you alright?"
"Yes, sir. I am."
"Are you sure? What happened earlier can be tough on even seasoned pros. If you're not
comfortable continuing this work study, then I have no problem with stopping it."
"I want to continue," Izuku says firmly. "It was bad, and really scary, but I helped. I stopped the
fight, and I got people to the hospital. I was a real hero. I want to keep doing that."
Aizawa looks at him, expression unreadable. "Fine," he says. "But you're taking the week off. No
school tomorrow, but you'll be required to attend for the rest of the week after that. I need some
time to figure things out here at the station."
"Can I still come in and talk to the kid we arrested?"
"Sure. Just don't overdo it. Kids like that are similar to cats. You can't rush getting to know them.
Drop by for an hour, no more. Got it?"
"Yes, sir."
Izuku goes home, creeps through his apartment because his mom is sleeping, and climbs into bed.
He's asleep the moment his head hits the pillow.
[x]
He wakes up to a wave of blinding light. He squeezes his eyes shut even more than they were and
rolls over, but instead of moving to more space on his bed, he hits a wall. A soft, cushiony wall.
Groaning, he extends his arms. One pushes into the cushions, and the other knocks on something
hard. Pushing himself up and rubbing the sleep out his eyes, he finds that he's not in his room. For
whatever reason, he's on the couch. Something is cooking in the kitchen, which he didn't notice. It
smells good, but it's the kind of smell that comes from sweating onions and garlic.
He swings out of the bed (couch? It's way too early to be thinking about it) and shivers as his feet
meet cold wood. He lets out a yawn, stretching his arms. His back is still a little sore from last
night, but a day off should fix it. Tossing aside a blanket, he stands. His legs feel fine, just a bit
stiff from sleep.
"Morning… Mom," he says, walking over to the kitchen. It's weird that she's still here at two in the
afternoon, but maybe she just wanted a day off. "Er, good afternoon, I guess." He sits down at the
table, content to watch her cook.
"Good afternoon, sweetie," she says, turning around from her place at the stove. Her eyes are
slightly red, and her hair isn't nearly as well-kept as it usually is. A wave of worry washes over
him. It must show on his face because she says, "I'm fine, Izuku. I had quite the fright when I
heard about last night—or was it this morning? I don't even remember because I was so worried!
But you're alright. I'm just glad I didn't wake you up when I checked in on you."
"Oh. Mr. Aizawa sent you something about it?" Izuku asks, happy that he doesn't have to tell his
mother about how he nearly died to a piece of rebar. Wait, does anyone else know that? He doesn't
remember sharing it in his report.
"He did, but that's not how I found out." She looks over to another part of the counter where a
simple radio sits. "It's pretty scary to hear about your only child on the news first thing in the
morning, you know."
"N… news?" Izuku says cautiously. He doesn't like where this is going.
His mother nods. "Yes, I heard it all while I was making breakfast. I burned my eggs when they
said eight people were shot."
"Y-yeah, um… how many people know about last night?" Izuku asks. He's nervous, but who
wouldn't be? It's not that he's ashamed of what he did, but if he goes viral a second time this month,
Aizawa is going to strangle him.
"Oh, it's all over the media! I had to shut your phone down because it wouldn't stop vibrating. It's
nice that your friends care." His mother's face quickly fixes into something more stern. "But, Izuku,
when stuff like that happens, I want you to tell me. It doesn't matter if I'm asleep; you better wake
me up so I know you're okay."
"I will, Mom." Izuku looks around the kitchen for his phone. It's gotta be somewhere, and he needs
to reply to whatever ungodly amount of messages he got.
"Mr. Yagi and Torino helped, though," his mother continues, regaining Izuku's attention. "They
swung by to make sure you were fine. Yagi looked about as worried as I was until I told them you
were fast asleep. They even helped me move you out to the living room so I could clean your
sheets, which, by the way, stank. Do you want to go to school smelling like BO?"
"No!" Izuku shouts, absolutely mortified that All Might and Gran Torino saw his room. Just the
thought of their reactions makes him want to crawl under a rock and hide for the rest of his life.
"Um, where's my phone? I wanna text my friends that I'm alright."
"Still in your room where you left it. It should be charged all the way."
There are two thousand five hundred seven notifications on his phone. It's a number so large, the
device lags as he unlocks it. Granted, that could say more about how cheap his phone is than how
people are reacting to what he did, but it doesn't matter. The first thing he does is clear everything
from the pulldown menu. Then, he taps on the text messages app and hits the first one.
Yagi Toshinori at 1:43 PM: Gran Torino was very amused at your choice of bedsheets.
Izuku instantly goes scarlet, regretting ever getting into heroes when he was younger and
questioning why he ever picked the All Might-themed bedspread. He almost can't scroll up to see
the other messages All Might sent, but he has to, just to make sure he wasn't too worried. Izuku
quickly finds that he wasn't, at least not too badly, and that all of the news stations talking about it
made it clear that he was unharmed. Most of the texts flip flop from praising his actions to
reminding him to think of his own safety. It's all normal stuff, really, and Izuku responds that he's
happy to have impressed the man. The comment on his choice of bedsheets goes ignored.
After All Might, his friends are the ones who sent him the most recent messages. They're from this
morning, congratulating him on a job well done and that they wish they could see him. He sends a
message to their group chat that he'll be at school tomorrow and that he wants to know how their
work studies are going. There's also a private message from Hado asking if he's alright and that, if
he needs to talk about what happened, she's there. Izuku's very happy she cares but doesn't really
need her help. No one died, and he did his best. There's no reason why he should feel bad.
(But the coppery stink of blood still lingers in his nose, and the red on his All Might figurines seem
just a little more sharp. And, if it gets too quiet, he can hear the cracks and bangs of guns, along
with the tinnitus they bring. But he'll get over it. Right?)
There are no more messages to respond to, but there's one glaring thing he has to check. Twitter.
Gingerly, as though he thinks tapping lightly on the app will make it go smoother, he opens it. His
phone takes a few seconds to process (again, it might be because his phone isn't very good. He
can't be that popular, right?), but it boots up like normal. The only difference is the mountain of
notifications. Oh, and #TheHeroDeku is apparently trending. Aizawa is going to strangle him. He's
a dead man.
Deciding to check the posts that have him tagged or mentioned first, he starts to scroll. It's news
articles mostly, the headlines typed out with the websites linked below, along with his account.
The replies are where it gets interesting.
Hero Student Ferries Two Wounded to Hospital!
Yooo, this kid's been busy. Two weeks after getting the license he's making headlines
Lol just imagine you're chillin on your roof at one am and some highschooler flies right above you
carrying a pair of ambulances, sirens blazing
Is this the guy that won the SF?
Damn what a beast
There are more, but they're all along the same vein. Izuku switches to a new tab, one that makes
his heart flutter, because he's followed this account since he had a personal Twitter feed. It's a
picture of him standing on the roof. Izuku isn't sure of how or when the photo was taken, but the
blue and red lights of the ambulances are clearly seen on his costume. He wears a relieved smile
and has his hands on his hips. His gloves and costume are covered in dried bits of blood, and there
are bags under his eyes.
@HeroNewsDaily
#RealHero #TheHeroDeku
There are others like it, from YouTubers, hero fan accounts, and even real, actual, pro heroes, all of
whom Izuku has looked at or read about obsessively since he was eleven, or even younger in some
cases. Backdraft, Kamui Woods, Fat Gum, Ingenium, all of his U.A teachers, Manual, Gunhead,
Fourth Kind, Ms. Joke, Ryukyu and Edgeshot, holy shit!
There's more, too: A short video of someone asking Hawks about him right after a robbery was
stopped. "Deku? Oh, yeah, he did an internship with me. Bright kid, pretty fast. Wouldn't mind
having him on as a sidekick." There are also clips of his flight because people did actually see it as
it happened. A vertical phone recording, starting when the lights and sirens are barely audible and
ending right after he flies past. Izuku's face is clearly seen, and it's even possible to make out the
face of an EMT in the window of one of the ambulances. The replies are all going wild, and there
are links to posts on Reddit and a bunch of other cities. It's overwhelming, and he tries to reply to
as many things as he can, but there's just so much of it. So he decides to make a post for himself,
just to clear the air.
It's a simple photo, a selfie taken while he sits on his bed. He smiles as best he can and holds up a
peace sign. There's an All Might poster visible over his left shoulder, and his shirt is really
wrinkled. He posts it anyway and writes a few brief sentences to go with it, saying that he's fine
and really flattered with all of the praise. Then, he turns off Twitter notifications and sets his phone
down. There are some really good smells coming from the kitchen now: Bacon, eggs frying, hash
browns, and probably some other stuff. It'll be a little weird eating breakfast in the afternoon, but…
His stomach rumbles loudly. Twitter can sit on the back burner for a while. Food is much more
important.
[x]
Crime sucks. It's dirty, it stinks, it exposes all the disgusting things society has to offer, and, worst
of all, it makes you think. Mostly about what you're willing and unwilling to do, but also about
how disgusting you are.
Lionel's done a lot of awful things in his time. Africa hasn't always been the best place in the
world, and that's doubly so for Nigeria. He's got some memories from back when he was little. One
of his aunts (or maybe a grandma, had a ?) alongevity Quirk, and was super old. She remembered
the tail end of that half century of chaos after Quirks came about. It wasn't as bad for Africa as a
whole, but as soon as there were real governments again, there were issues. Crime, mostly against
humanity, sometimes against nature, always against the establishment. The resource-rich continent
became a battleground for some sick, twisted king of the hill game. And Lionel was right in the
thick of it from sixteen onwards.
Drugs were obviously the biggest source of crime. It's like that everywhere, really. People have to
move all the cocaine, amphetamines, psychedelics, and whatever the hell was in demand, and
Lionel started doing it young. It wasn't that bad at first—you don't see too many things crossing the
savanna in the dead of night—but it got worse really fast. People will do anything for drugs.
Anything. And the people who sell the drugs will do anything to get their money. Anything. And
that's why he's had blood on his paws since his seventeenth birthday.
If he were a thinker, Lionel would probably have some deep self-reflection on the daily. But he's
not a thinker. Instead, he's smart enough to know he's too dumb to have those thoughts, and his
desensitisation of crime simply becomes part of himself.
"Oi, kitty! Quit fucking around and make sure you've got the addresses!" Ah, yes. The second
worst part of crime. The people you have to work with.
Lionel opens one eye and looks over to the little meeting. Most of the people here are Japanese,
and while they're not the worst he's seen, they're still assholes. There's the boss, who doesn't do
anything really, the warper, who makes sure the goods get where they need to go, and about six
other henchmen, just desperate idiots scraped off the street, too dumb to realize they're fodder. He's
not much better, but at least Lionel gets to go home once this thing is over. The rest of them are
doing it for food and lodging, or maybe even fun.
"Kurogiri will be warping us there," Lionel sighs. "But the building is called Sakamoto
Apartments, and the target is on the fifth floor, room one hundred and five." Remembering
something in a second language, especially something as important as where the goods are, is way
easier. Not that he needs to. The warper has the coordinates for every place they want, and the
others have asked him the same question five times already. "That's the first one. The second is—"
"Yeah, yeah, we get it," another lackey says. "I'm surprised you managed to remember it. For some
dumb forigener, you've got a good memory."
"Are we done here?" Lionel stands up straight, finished with leaning on the wall of the room. "The
night doesn't last forever, and there's warnings online about keeping children away from windows
now. It won't be easy."
"Whatever. Smoke Face, warp us outta here!" Kurogiri, which is a very difficult word to say for
Lionel, defers to his master. They have an odd relationship. Shigaraki is a total child, but the other,
more powerful man follows him around like a dog. Lionel hates people that do that.
"Open a portal," Shigaraki orders, glaring at the henchmen for trying to boss around his toy. "And
make it quick. I want to get five more tonight." It's a tall order, but nothing unusual for the leader.
Lionel pats the baggie of dirt in his pocket and walks over to step through the portal. It's cold like
usual, but it only lasts a second. The others step out behind him into a dirty side street. Shigaraki is
last. Once they're all through, they split off.
The target apartment can barely be called a suitable place of living. Half the windows are boarded
up, and there's not even a security system at the front door. That particular detail is why this will be
an easy one. A single henchman, one dressed nicely in a suit and tie with an unclean face that ruins
the disguise, walks right through the front door and makes for the elevator. Lionel and the rest start
to climb the side of the building. He has to go by fire escape, though it's only because there's not
enough room on the side of the building for all of them to climb without crossing over windows.
Shigaraki also takes the fire escape. Lionel doesn't know if it's because he's lazy or if he can't
climb.
They find the proper apartment, which is a few windows left of the fire escape. They also make
note of some other apartments whose windows clearly show children's rooms. Three of them start
to climb down so they're closer to the ground. If someone comes, they'll take care of everything.
The rest of them prepare to enter the room, one using their Quirk to create a small platform beneath
the window and Shigaraki preparing to use Decay to break the window. Lionel himself presses one
of his ears, which are keen to soft noises like a cat's, to the glass. Inside, he hears the sound of
knocking. Their man has already made it up to the floor and found the right room. The knocking
persists, and Lionel hears the distant sound of heavy footsteps.
"The dad's out of bed." Shigaraki's fifth finger immediately hits the glass, sending cracks through
the surface. It breaks apart quickly, turning to dust. Lionel is the first one in, eyes better suited to
the dark. He parts the pink curtains and makes contact with the floor. Kicking aside a toy, he finds
the door to the hallway. He rushes to block it with his shoulder, his extra bulk making sure no one's
able to break through.
Shigaraki slinks through the window next, beady red eyes focusing on the child, who's just woken
up. Lionel doesn't need enhanced hearing to know when the door of the apartment slams shut and
the father of the child starts to run to check on them. He digs his feet into the floor, bracing for
someone to push back. It never does.
Shigaraki must think it's suspicious, too, because instead of waiting for the child to wake up, he
grabs them by the arm and pulls them out of bed. The child, seeing a tall, thin man with angry red
eyes and a human hand on their face, screams.
Lionel acts on instinct, pushing away from the door and shoving a paw over the child's mouth. He
looks at Shigaraki silently, twitching his head into the direction of the door. The younger man
grumbles under his breath and walks over and opens the door. It seems like a dumb idea on the
surface, but the father would barge through the second they left, or even before they did. They have
to deal with him, and it's best if they do it on their own terms. It should be easy. But then a strong
gust of wind rips the door off the hinges and sends Shigaraki flying into the wall and partly out the
window.
Lionel is lucky enough to avoid the brunt of the wind and rushes the father before they can use
another attack. He slams into the much smaller man, lowering his shoulder and driving him into
the wall. The cheap drywall cracks, and the man crumples in a heap. Lionel turns and grabs the
still screaming child again, nudging Shigaraki with his foot. He's out cold.
Swearing, he slings his boss over one shoulder, careful of the hands. He looks out the window,
relieved to see that the rest of the group is still there. He hands the child over, and the new handler
instantly gags them with a rag. Then, Lionel steps out onto the platform with Shigaraki in a
fireman's carry.
"How fast can we get a portal out of here?" he asks, already rushing down the fire escape. They
made a lot of noise, and the police are definitely coming. Or worse, heroes.
"Fuck if I know, the boss usually just waits for a few minutes at a random spot for one to open."
Lionel wrinkles his nose and pauses to think. The child is silent now, so they could theoretically
make a quiet getaway. But their base is all the way in Tokyo, and it would be impossible to make it
there while smuggling a kid. They have to wait here for a way out. It's the only option.
"Two groups. One on each end of the road," Lionel orders. "Ambush anyone who comes through,
but do it quietly. The portal should be here soon. Don't fuck up."
They take their positions, Lionel at the end that opens up to a usually busy street, but the lack of
activity gives it an eerie feel. It's dark, and there's no street lights, so he blends in better than usual
with his dark brown mane. He keeps a sharp eye out, tense and ready to pounce. The man that went
inside comes back, nearly getting tackled for how loudly he descends the fire escape, but other
than that, no one comes by for a while.
Then, a cop car pulls up, the sirens off. The lights turn off the second they park, and two officers
step out. One's a short woman in the standard police gear, and the other is a tall man with a beige
trench coat. Lionel flicks his claws out of their sheethes.
Both of the cops draw their guns, walking forward towards the alley, slowly. There's probably
more with them, either heading into the apartment or simply nearby on standby. He'll have to get
both of them at the same time, so no one calls for backup. Of course, the officers know this, and
one of them moves in front of the other, gun trained on the dark alley.
Lionel waits, not wanting to be the first to strike unless he gets a perfect opportunity. The cop in
the lead keeps moving forward deliberately, eyes flicking back and forth. They take one step too
far, and their partner inches just the right amount into the dark alley. Lionel lunges.
He tackles the cop from the side, twisting the gun out of her hand and socking her in the face as
hard as he can. Then, he rushes the man in the trench coat, batting aside his weapon before he can
pull the trigger and pinning him to the ground by the throat. Behind him, Lionel's allies scramble to
react, grabbing guns and the other officer. Lionel drags the man in the alley, carefully keeping him
a few feet away from his body in case he has any tricks. He's been stabbed that way once already,
back when he was young. He doesn't need another scar.
Now with two prisoners, they have a dilemma. They either kill them to make sure their backs are
safe or hold them hostage for the next batch of heroes or police. Most of the team seems to think
that killing them is the better option, which Lionel understands. Dead men tell no tales, and they
can't afford to keep a child and two adults captive for long. Not to mention Shigaraki, who's still
out cold and lying on the ground in an undignified heap.
"Freeze! I am the pro hero Mr. Brave! You are under arrest for villainy!" Lionel whirls around,
already bringing up a paw to hold a claw to the man's throat, eyeing the hero down the street, who
has a sword drawn and ready to cut. But then, the familiar misty fog of Kurogiri's warp Quirk
appears just two steps to his left. "Do not move! If you do I will be forced to—fuck!" The hero
swears as a hundred and fifty pounds of adult man slams into his chest, sending him flying
backwards. Lionel shoves everyone through the portal, remembering to grab the child and
Shigaraki before going through himself.
Just another night as a common criminal.
Bonus!
I didn't have space to put this in, but it's too good of a thing to not put in.
@imnothere09 at 12:55 PM:
Deku (Aka Midoriya Izuku):
- Placed first in the ua entrence exams,
- Now holds the second greatest score for the test, only beaten by All Might
- Placed first in the Sports Festival
- intered with Hawks, the youngest pro to open an agency
- got his p. Licence at 16 placing in the top ten in an exam made up entirety of second and third
year hero students and received special recognition for doing so
- carried two ambulances by himself over ten kilometers while flying
- Has a triple aspect Quirk something almost unheard of

- Is currently interning with Eraserhead, a hero with a 99% success rate
We're watching the birth of a second All Might and I'm here for it
Chapter End Notes
You have no idea of how tempted I was to name this chapter "Oops! I did it again" but
I didn't because I managed to talk myslef out of it. Anyways, I don't really have much
to say about this chapter. It's not exactly filler, but it's not all plot. Actually, I think
that's how most of my chapters are. Anyways, the next one will have a good amount of
Big Three content, and more heroing. I hope you enjoyed. Cheers!
Tag, You're It!
Chapter Notes
As of April 12 2021, this chapter has been edited and reformated by my beta, flauel.
"We had a breakthrough in the case." Aizawa raises an eyebrow, focusing on the rather nasty
bruise the detective has, along with the man's split lip.
"What kind of breakthrough?"
"They have a warper and plenty of muscle." Aizawa sucks in a deep breath, mulling it over. Warp
Quirks are rare, more so than his own eraser type. Most of the time they were used by government
officials, or even pro heroes. The users were always paid well and in high demand. One being used
to kidnap children didn't paint a pretty picture.
"What happened?"
"It was a routine disturbance call. I was already in the area investigating another area and decided
to check it out with my driver." The detective reaches for a folder of paper on his desk and opens it.
Inside are a bunch of sketches, along with some still frames of CCTV footage. "We caught them
right after they got out of their building. More cars were on the way, and heroes were, too. I
thought we had them, but my partner and I made a mistake."
"Clearly," Aizawa says, picking up one of the sketches. It's a portrait of a rather large man with
obvious lion features. A mane of gold and brown fur wraps around his neck, blending in with his
regular hair, and his nose is large and broad. He's of African descent, with dark skin, a few
markings on his cheeks, and dark eyes with cat pupils. A height estimate puts him at over two
meters tall.
"We both made it back, but the child didn't," Tsukauchi says grimly. "The lion, who I think is the
leader, threw me about six meters at a hero to make their escape. The warper makes it impossible
to know where they went."
"What did the warp look like?" The detective sorts through the folder and hands over a still from
the security footage and a sketch. It's hard to tell exactly what it is due to the grainy quality of the
camera and the colorless sketch, but Aizawa can tell that it's a portal. Dark in color, and foggy like
mist. It's uncomfortably familiar, but he pushes that feeling aside.
"Portal-based, that's all you can tell about it." Aizawa puts the picture down. "Why do you have me
here?"
"I want you on the case. They have to be hiding somewhere, and people take up a lot of space. Not
to mention they need to be kept alive." Tsukauchi spins around in his chair and stands. He walks
over to a detailed wall-sized map of this part of Japan. Several sections are circled in bold red. "We
think they're in warehouses and old lots. The kind of stuff still legally owned but not in use. Of
course, they could be in a whole other country, but the warper has to have some limitations.
Otherwise, they would have teleported to another part of the world and taken children that way."
"I'm no good against mutant types." Aizawa studies the map. Most of the red areas are places he
doesn't frequent. They're near ports and shipyards, perfect places to stash a lot of bodies.
"You're good and you're quiet. That's all we want," Tsukauchi informs. "Check some of the spots
out. At night, preferably. I trust that you won't act without proper backup or a team."
"I'm not bringing the kid on these," Aizawa says, agreeing.
"That's fine. He's young, I understand that you want to shield him from some things. I'm sure some
of the officers here would be happy to have him as extra muscle on day patrol."
"Yeah, that'll be fine."
[x]
Aizawa must be some kind of god to deal with this all the time. Really, Izuku thought it was bad
intentionally turning his sleep schedule upside down for his work study, but making it right side up
again was a completely different ball game. He's had three cups of coffee, all of them black and
almost unhealthily strong, along with a nice big breakfast. And he still had to skip out on his
morning workout because of drowsiness. How does Mr. Aizawa live? Or maybe what he does can't
even be considered living. That's probably the answer based on how Izuku feels on the train ride to
school.
The people on the train very obviously want to pry and ask for all sorts of things. Usually he
wouldn't mind it, but this morning he tucks himself away in a corner and does his best to make it
obvious that he wants to be alone. Everyone respects it, and the ride is silent. He has to give the
occasional smile or nonverbal greeting, but it's not bad. Izuku just wishes he had a sleeping bag so
he could pass out on the floor, Eraserhead style.
The walk to the classroom is more or less normal. Izuku does have some people recognize him and
call out friendly greetings, which he does his best to respond to. Almost everyone seems to get that
he's pretty tired and gives him space, which is great.
He gets to the classroom just before the bell, sitting down at his desk and leaning over, half
tempted to put his head down. It's not that he didn't get enough sleep—in fact, he got about nine
hours total—but it just feels wrong to be up and about right now. Aizawa is already there, wrapped
up in his sleeping bag and leaned up against the wall with his eyes closed. Like usual, he waits
until the bell rings to open them.
"Midoriya."
The man unzips and steps out of his sleeping bag, packet of jelly in hand. His hair is a mess, and he
hasn't shaved. His ever-present bags are also more pronounced than usual. "Did you rest like I told
you to?"
Izuku nods. "I did."
"Good. You'll be switching to day patrols with regular officers a week after next Monday. It'll be
for the foreseeable future. Until then, you're off." Aizawa sucks on his pouch of jelly, half focused
on Izuku and half focused on taking his phone out of his pocket.
"Why?" Izuku asks, a bit disappointed.

"It's not because you're not good enough," Aizawa says, answering a question Izuku didn't even
know he had. "I've agreed to do some more riskier patrols, and it's above your pay grade.
Remember the kidnapping case I told you about?"
"The one with the missing windows?" Aizawa nods. "I… oh."
"Yeah. It's not the sort of thing you should be seeing. But the officers at the station are happy to
take you, and you'll still see plenty of action."
"I understand, sir," Izuku says, trying his best to hide his disappointment. Patrolling with Mr.
Aizawa isn't fun, but it makes him feel fulfilled, like he's making a difference. And not to mention
he's learned so much, even from just two outings.
"You should head up to Nedzu," the man says, very obviously noting how Izuku feels. He'll
probably touch on it later, though Izuku hopes he doesn't. "He was much too chipper this morning,
so try not to encourage him."
Chipper was an understatement. When Izuku gets to their usual meeting room, he finds the door
swung wide open, with bits of paper strewn on the floor, three tea kettles—all whistling—on hot
pads, and a large screen TV being used as a computer monitor, which has ten windows open. The
principal himself is smiling maniacally, sitting on top of several textbooks with his usual mug of
tea.
"G-good morning, sir," Izuku says, brushing aside a few sheets of paper to find a seat on the couch.
"What's all this?"
"That is an excellent question." The principal hops down from his seat and walks over to a mouse
and keyboard, which are balanced precariously on a small statue of Julius Caesar. "You made quite
the storm yesterday. And there's just so much we can do with it!"
"This is about my new Twitter account, then," Izuku says, already pulling out his phone. He
checked it this morning, but in the early morning haze that ruled his brain, he didn't catch much.
"Should I say more than I already have? Maybe wish everyone who was injured a safe recovery?"
He considered it earlier, but his lack of experience with that type of thing stopped him.
"Perhaps, but let's not rush it." Nedzu gestures to the TV screen. "Right now, most of Japan knows
your name, face, and some basic things about your character. We need to plan, but before we can,
we need to decide what you want."
"What I want?" Izuku sets his phone on the table. It's already open to Twitter, which is still buzzing
with activity, a lot of it about him.
"Yes, Midoriya. What do you want?"
Izuku chews the inside of his lip. It's a simple question, but with the principal there's no way it
doesn’t have some kind of deeper meaning. "I want to help people. As many as I can. And I want
to be worthy of One for All."
"Good. Now that you have your goal and I have mine, we can get started." Nedzu navigates to a
blank document at lightning speed, formatting it into a list of bullets.
"Wait, I thought we wanted the same thing?" Izuku scratches the back of his neck.
"Oh, I most definitely want you to save people. I'm no sadist." His eyes gleam just a bit too much
for Izuku to take that as the truth. "But this school is my pride and joy. I want people everywhere to
have a high opinion of it." There's more, but it goes unsaid. Izuku is fine with it because he knows
Nedzu well enough to trust that whatever he wants to do with a high public opinion of U.A won't
be harmful to anyone innocent. Probably.
"Okay. So how can we use my popularity”—and god, isn't that a weird thing to say out loud—"to
help people? Twitter posts don't save lives."
"Ah, but maybe they do!" Nedzu swirls his teacup around and takes a sip. "What's the number one
cause of villainy and crime?"
"Desire?" Izuku guesses. "People want more than they have, or something they don't, and
sometimes they'll do illegal stuff to get it. Wait, that's too broad. Greed, maybe? A lot of people
want money. Or maybe fame? I'm not sure."
"All of those are good guesses, and are, in some part, true," Nedzu agrees. "You're on the right
track, so here's another question: Why do people commit crime?"
Izuku opens his mouth to answer but quickly closes it. He wants to answer with 'Because they're
bad people', but it's not that simple. No one wakes up and decides to rob a bank for no reason.
Well, no one sane does. People steal and kill and hurt and threaten because they want something.
But that can't be it; Nedzu said it wasn't quite right. He thinks back to something Aizawa said at
the start of the work study. Maybe... "Because they've no other choice." The principal remains
silent, so Izuku continues, "People have bad luck sometimes, and they need a way out. If they're
desperate enough, they'll do anything. So they go against the law for their own needs."
"Perfect," Nedzu says. "Now, don't take your words at face value. They imply that criminals and
villains as a whole are doing something reasonable. Self-preservation is the state of human beings,
before all. But they're not doing something reasonable. By breaking the law, they're almost
definitely hurting another in the process. Dragging oneself up by pushing others down is wrong."
"But people still need help," Izuku argues. Well, not quite, because he agrees, but this feels like a
debate. "They shouldn't hurt others, but we can't just toss them in jail and hope they get better."
"Oh?" Nedzu cocks his head. "Do go on."
"No one should have to turn to crime to survive," Izuku continues. "If they need things bad enough
to steal for, and the stuff they want are necessities, then they should have access to them anyways.
If they're hungry, then they should have a way to get food. If they need shelter, then they shouldn't
have to sleep in the streets. If they're not safe at home, they shouldn't have to be out late at night
stealing." He trails off again, remembering someone in desperate need of some help.
"Something happened at your work study," Nedzu says, interested.
"There's this kid who's not much younger than me. They're being hurt by someone, and there's a
chance they might have to go back to them if we mess up," Izuku admits. "I'm trying to get them to
talk to me, but I'm not sure how fast I can get to know them. And I've only got two weeks."
"Well, child abuse cases are usually pretty open-and-shut," Nedzu informs. "And I take it that they
were committing a crime and you only found out about their abuse after the arrest?"
Izuku nods. "Breaking and entering and robbery. The officers think they might be stealing at the
order of their abuser. They could also be stealing stuff to make a living for themselves so they can
escape. But… I just wish they never had to steal or rob or fight back against the people who try to
arrest them. They should've had a place to go, or access to people who can help."
"Those places exist." Nedzu flicks his mouse around and types something in a search bar.
"Shelters, soup kitchens, and rec centers all supply safe spaces for young children. Or anyone,
really. But in the modern era of heroics, they're woefully underfunded."
"All Might donates to a lot of charities," Izuku remembers. "And other heroes do too. Don't they
help?"
"They do, but the amount of money isn't what you'd think it'd be, and it's most likely not going to
the kinds of things we're talking about." Nedzu taps his tea mug. "They donate from their
paycheck, which might be large, but they're not multi-millionaires. Well, Yagi probably is, but he
spends so much on helping young people get into colleges and donating to hero schools that it
cancels out. Most of the money in the hero world is in the merchandise. And all of that money is
handled by big companies, who don't donate to charities. Not to mention that only a fraction of
heroes make enough to donate large sums and still live comfortably."
"Don't heroes have a say in that money, though?" Izuku looks over to the computer screen, which is
open to a map that shows all the soup kitchens in Japan. There aren't as many as he hoped there'd
be. "It's their likeness. They should get a lot of money from the profits."
"Likenesses can be bought," Nedzu explains. "It's like movie characters compared to their actors.
The actors get a cut from the films, but the likeness of the characters they play are property of the
company who makes the movie. They get all the money from the merchandise. Yagi Toshinori
gets a check in the mail every week for all the crimes he stops, but he sees very little for all the
times All Might is printed on a poster."
"Huh," Izuku hums, deep in thought. If all the money in heroism is in the merchandise, but at the
same time is in the hands of large for-profit companies, then… wait, this whole information dump
was because he wants to help people avoid crime by providing resources. "I think I have an idea.
But it's a little far-fetched and kind of goes against what you just told me."
"The best ideas are often like that," Nedzu encourages.
"If we can somehow get all of the money that comes from selling merchandise and sidestep the
whole likeness thing you talked about, then we can use all of the profits on good causes," Izuku
explains. "I could announce it on my Twitter, but how would we make the merch? What the merch
be of? Would people even buy it?"
"The merchandise could be of you, or even some UA alums who don't have contracts with large
companies. I know a lot of graduates who would happily help with this." Nedzu takes a drink of
tea. "People would buy it if they knew it was for a good cause, and because you're quite the hero in
training. A lot of agencies have already scouted you. And as for making the items?" The principal's
smile sharpens, stretching his pink scar thin. "Let's just say I'm owed a lot of favors."
[x]
Freshly cleaned costumes are a godsend. Really, Izuku doesn't even realize how grody his was
until he puts it on after a cleaning. It's practically good as new, with sparkling whites, dark blacks,
and his usual vibrant greens. His respirator has also been cleaned, bleached, and sanitized after
getting blood on it.
"You know, if you keep checking yourself out in the mirror, people will think you’re vain." Izuku
looks over at Togata, who's only just finished putting on his cape.
"I'm just taking in how clean it is," Izuku admits, looking back to the reflection of himself. "I might
have to order spares so I always have a clean one ready."
"You don't do that already?" Hado shuts a locker door, already in full gear sans her headband. "I've
had two costumes since before finals last year. The only one of us that has an excuse for not having
a backup is Togata."
"I'm actually getting more underwear soon," the blond boy says, excited. He pulls on a strand of his
hair. "Two more, at least. And then I can finally get a haircut!"
"Boo, short hair is boring." Hado pushes her headband up, making sure not a single lock of blue
hair will come down to block her eyes. "You gotta grow it all out, like me! Or even Midoriya—his
hair's a little scruffy, too."
"You think?" Izuku mimes Togata and grabs a strand of his hair. It has gotten longer. Now that he
thinks about it, the last time he had a haircut was before U.A.
"Meh, it kinda suits you." Hado floats over and gently rakes her fingers through his curls. "Y'know,
the whole wild and carefree thing you've got going on with your fighting style. It clashes with your
face a bit, but you pull it off really good."
"T-thanks." Izuku smiles, feeling a tad warm. "I didn't realize you knew so much about this kind of
stuff."
"Oh, it's all new," Hado admits, pulling her hand away from Izuku's hair. "The only two things I've
learned from my work study have been how to do makeup in thirty seconds and how style works."
"You're working for Uwabami, right?"
"Yup." Hado's smile dips a bit. "It's suuuuper boring—I haven't even fought villains yet! I don't
know why she offered to take me in when I said I wanted to do combat stuff. I wish I could go back
to who I did my internship with, but I signed a one month contract."
"Me too," Amajiki mumbles. "Best Jeanist is too intense. I preferred working with Fourth Kind,
and he wasn't any fun either."
"Man, am I the only one having fun at my work study?" Togata looks them over. "Sir is really
amazing, and the sidekicks over there are cool, too. I've already saved a lot of people."
"Aizawa was great," Izuku says, more than a little bummed. "I learned a lot and stopped tons of
crime. But they're moving me to the day shift soon."
"How's your back, by the way?" Togata asks. "I know you had to push yourself a bit to get those
ambulances there in time. You're good to fight, right?"
"Oh, yeah," Izuku says, happy for the distraction. "I took a day off, and I'm all better now. And
Recovery Girl patched me up, too. I just hope the people I took to the hospital have a quick
recovery like me, but…" A bullet to the knee and glass in the chest would take a while to heal
from, even with healing Quirks.
"Hey hey, don't go all mopey." Hado pokes his cheek with one finger, forcing him to crack a small
smile. "They'll be fine, you did great! And you'll start working again on the day shift soon, which
means you'll save more people. It'll be awesome."
"Yeah, it's going to be just fine," Togata agrees. "They'll get better soon, and you'll be back in
action. You should rest while you've got the chance." Beside him, Amajiki nods.
"Thanks," Izuku says, happier. "But training is about to start. Let's go before we're late."
Today's training is in one of the fake cities, or more specifically the suburbs of one. It's been
walled off too, so there's a boundary between the taller buildings and the uniform houses. They get
there right on time, ready for another day of breakneck-paced training. But they get a shock once
they do.
"Where's Mr. Aizawa?"
Vlad King looks up from his clipboard and eyes them carefully. "Out. He's doing some specialty
work for a police precinct and won't be able to teach anything other than homeroom for a while."
"I saw him this morning," Izuku says, noticing that everyone looks to him for confirmation. "Not
for long, though."
"Now that's cleared up, you'll be doing combat training today." Vlad King looks over his shoulder
at the suburban streets behind him. "You'll be playing three-on-one tag. The chasers' goal is to tag
the runner and take their place. And a tag has to be body-to-body contact, so ranged attacks and
manifestations don't count. There's a time limit, and whoever's the runner at the end of it wins."
"What about property damage?" Hado asks.
"The runner is the villain and doesn’t care about that type of stuff. The chasers are the heroes, who
want to keep the people and homes undamaged." Vlad King checks his watch and gives it a few
quick taps. "Try not to go too hard, though. Poor Cementoss has been really busy fixing all the
cities. Togata, you're the first runner. If you get tagged by one of them, they've got ten seconds to
move before you can pursue."
The blond boy nods, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet, cape swaying with him. "When
do we start?"
"Right now."
Togata smiles and sinks into the ground without another word. Amajiki and Hado break off, taking
to the air and moving to where Togata went under respectfully. Izuku stays put, scanning his
surroundings. They're at the edge of the suburb, with lots of concrete and perfectly manicured
grass. The closest house is maybe fifty feet away. Togata can't go too long without surfacing
because all of the air in his lungs escapes. He's got maybe twenty or thirty seconds under the
ground and therefore a limited area to pop up from.
Izuku's wide area of search is the right idea. Togata launches out of the ground halfway between
Izuku and the houses. He immediately goes back under, but Izuku and the others are already on his
tail. He and Hado fly side by side while Amajiki shifts his lower half into a horse (which Izuku
would totally gush about if they weren't in the middle of an exercise) and follows. Izuku stops
before he reaches the area Togata went under, but the others continue right up to it.
Togata is tricky, and he's spent a week with Sir Nighteye, one of the cleverest heroes in the game
and All Might's sidekick of eight years. There's no way he doesn't have a plan, and there's even less
of a chance that he'd come up in the same area twice. Or he might, but only after getting them to
think that he wouldn't. But that line of thinking leads to a ridiculous paradox, and Togata prefers
the simple sort of stuff. Therefore…
Izuku kicks off the ground, launching back to the starting position. He lands, and right as he does, a
pair of white boots break the surface, ten feet to his left. Izuku pounces, ready for a tackle. But
Togata's head is already out of the ground, and the larger boy twists out of the way in an amazing
display of flexibility for someone with his build. Undeterred, Izuku lets Blackwhip out, telling One
for All to hit his friend but not at full strength before turning it loose.
Togata ducks and weaves masterfully, never once losing his smile. Izuku lets his Quirk do its thing
but also closes the distance. If he can contain his opponent and get in close, he should be able to
get a hit in. The strands continue to thrash, and some come close to hitting him, but it's not until
Izuku gets close enough to throw an actual punch that something happens.
It's a classic bait and switch. Izuku throws his white-colored glove forward, aiming to deal an
uppercut to Togata's chin, and at the same time cocking his black-colored boot back, ready to kick
him in the ribs. His uppercut ghosts through Togata's head, and his kick is well-aimed. He's got
him. But then, Togata sinks into the floor and comes back up right where Izuku is. Their bodies
overlap. "Phantom Toss!" The blond boy solidifies, and Izuku goes flying.
He makes it twenty feet before digging into the ground with a strand of Blackwhip and halting
himself. Togata flashes a cheeky grin and ducks under a golden spiral before diving away from
octopus tentacles.
That was a move Izuku suggested to him, way back at summer camp. And it was just used against
him. A move he came up with for a Quirk that's not even his own. Used. Against him. Effectively.
And at such a level of precision and finesse that it takes hours upon hours to achieve. It makes
happiness bubble up inside of him. He wants to laugh and run up to give Togata a big hug. The
sheer amount of skill and effort he put into Izuku's idea is... no, fight now, gush later.
He flies, quickly rejoining the battle with a slash of Blackwhip from his leg. Togata dodges easily,
much better at handling the lesser amount of attacks Hado and Amajiki can put out compared to
Izuku. But everyone knows that if Izuku can lash out with all of his whips and join in on the melee
then Togata is as good as toast. So he does what any smart person would do and gets the hell out of
there.
Togata leaps high into the air, brushing past Izuku with a wink before literally diving back down
and into the earth at top speed. Then, he's back out again, but at an angle that's nearly parallel to the
ground, back up. His cape flutters, and it almost looks like he's flying, but he quickly sinks back
down, dipping into the ground before solidifying again and gaining more momentum.
"Like a skipping stone," Izuku says, a little awed. But he doesn't stay still for long. Togata is his
prey, and he refuses to let him get away.
The three of them take off again, splitting up to limit Togata's options. Izuku sticks as close to him
as possible, occasionally striking out to keep him on his toes. Togata dodges easily enough every
time, but the added pressure has to be affecting him somehow. Hado and Amajiki keep a bit more
distance, ready to close in or take a sharp turn if Izuku loses him. It's a good plan, but Togata is
probably thinking of a way out of it already.
Izuku is proven right when Togata takes a particularly large leap and dives through the wall of a
house, forcing his pursuers to stop short.
"We can't go in there," Amajiki says, peeking through a window. "He'll force us into a fight, and
that'll probably level the house. We can't risk damaging someone's home."
"Not to mention all the tricks he could pull with the right spaces in there," Hado points out. "He's
good in tight spaces, and probably better than before if he's got those crazy new moves."
"He's got all the time in the world, too, and we've got a time limit." Izuku chews his lip. "Unless we
want him to win, then we have to go in."
"But how?" Amajiki asks. "Everything's probably locked. There's no way in unless we break
something."
"We could just blow a small hole in one of the walls," Izuku suggests. In the corner of his eye, he
sees Hado walk around the side of the house to the front. "Or smash a window. Nothing big, just
enough to get inside."
"Then he'll just leave and go into another one, which we'll have to break into," Amajiki argues.
"We'll end up damaging every house on the block."
Izuku ponders for a moment, noting in the back of his mind that there's a lot of noise coming from
around the side of the house. Hado's probably busy doing something. Maybe she's picking a lock?
Then, there's the sound of a doorknob turning, followed by wood hitting wood and an amused snort
that devolves into laughter. Izuku and Amajiki rush over to find the door wide open and Hado still
laughing with a massive smile on her face. She looks good.
"The… the door's unlocked!" She points, speaking like she can't believe it. "I tried to pick it with a
pin, but the thing is unlocked!"
"He's probably ready for us," Izuku says, smiling as he walks past Hado and into the house with
caution. "He's got the advantage here, and he'll either force us to fight him here or make for another
house, which he might've already done."
"Hey, that's really smart!" Izuku looks down and sees Togata's face poking out of the ground. He
kicks at it, forcing the boy to go under. He braces for an attack. It never comes. "Heh, ain't that a
kick to the head?" And Izuku receives just that, falling to the floor as a heel digs into the top of his
skull. Togata makes his getaway, cracking all sorts of awful jokes while Izuku gets back up.
Looking out the door, Izuku spies Amajiki and Hado hot on Togata's heels as the boy weaves in
and out of houses, avoiding them like it's nothing. It's clear that they can't keep chasing him.
Togata is just too slippery. They, or rather Izuku because this is technically an individual exercise,
need to set a trap. One he can't get out of.
Izuku looks back into the house. Togata would probably come by this one again, just to keep
everyone on their toes. He'd probably also want to catch his breath somewhere because all of those
leaps he does are taxing.
So, somewhere safe, and a place to catch a breather. That'd be anywhere in the house because the
heroes can't risk using their big attacks and won't walk into one when he can do all of his fancy
phasing attacks. But there's one really safe space, perfect for Togata's needs: The basement.
Izuku combs the house, looking for a staircase down. He finds one after a while, next to the
laundry room. He descends, making sure to close the door so it looks like it's untouched. He keeps
the lights off too, otherwise Togata would catch on.
Using a fistful of lighting to see, Izuku surveys the basement. It's finished, made entirely of
concrete, and completely open. Perfect.
Using one percent, Izuku floats up to the ceiling, the basement in pitch darkness. Inside of him,
One for All swims in excitement. It knows what's going to happen. All they need now is some
patience.
They don't have to wait long, maybe two minutes. One moment there's suffocating silence and the
next there's the sound of shoes hitting the floor and labored breathing. Quietly, Izuku descends.
This is going to be fun.
"They're getting good," Togata mumbles to himself. "Gotta up my game to keep them off. I wonder
where Midoriya is though…"
Izuku doesn’t bother fighting the smile that comes to his lips, but he does push back against One
for All, which is doing the soundless equivalent of a cackle. Slowly, he descends, approaching the
sound of Togata's breath. He reaches out and pokes something hard, probably a pec muscle. "Tag."
Blackwhip explodes with green light, wrapping a stunned Togata up from head to toe and writhing
around in excitement. Izuku smiles wider, bearing all of his teeth. His friend's face is one of pure
shock and awe, and he doesn't even activate his Quirk or fight against his bindings.
"... Nice one," he concedes. "You've got ten seconds."
Izuku nods, still grinning from ear to ear. "Start counting." Togata does, and Izuku begins to think.
He's the villain now and doesn't care about damage. That makes the way out obvious, though
Cementoss won't be happy about it and Togata will be in some danger of the rubble. Then again,
there's no reason why he can't carry Togata out with him and send Cementoss a card for all the
trouble.
"Smash!"
[x]
Nejire watches as an entire house implodes, smirking as bits of wood and stone hit the ground and
bounce off each other with satisfying thunks. A blur of neon green flies out of the destruction,
followed by black tails all coiled around a white and red person. Said person is then chucked away,
and in her general direction, when the blur of green gets high into the air. Togata sinks into the
ground and comes back up a second later, no worse for wear. Beside her, Nejire hears Amajiki say
something about dramatic flare. She giggles.
Nejire keeps her eyes on the great ball of lightning and tentacles in the sky, easily comparing it to a
second, smaller sun. He stays put, clearly waiting for them to make the first move, or maybe it's
because he's got some kind of plan. Knowing Midoriya, it's probably insane and revolves around
mass chaos.
"Midoriya got you," Amajiki says, watching as Togata pads up to him.
"Oh yeah," Togata says. "Didn't even know he was there until it was way too late. It's kinda scary
to think you're alone and then hear someone say 'Tag' and wrap you up in tentacles."
"I'll say," Nejire agrees. "Welp, we gotta get him now. Who wants to be the bait?" Because there's
no way they'll be able to chase after him mindlessly; Midoriya is too smart for that to work. They'll
need to do what he did to Togata and get him while he's distracted.
"You're the only one of us that can fly," Amajiki points out. "If you can get him down here, then
we might be able to get the drop on him."
"Just remember to be careful of all the homes," Togata adds on. "Midoriya's really good at dodging,
so your shots might not land, which will send them into the buildings."
"Yep." Nejire nods. "Already thought of that. I'll see if I can get him near a taller one. Like that
water tower over there." She points to the west, where a thirty foot tower with a tank on top sits.
"Or maybe not because a flood would be bad. Stick to that row of condos over there instead. That's
where I'll be taking him."
"You got it!"
"That works."
Nejire takes off, propelled by a pair of output level fifty spirals from her feet. Bigger than she'd
usually use, but Midoriya's quick and strong. She can't pull any punches. As she ascends, she also
preps a pair of spirals from her hands at a higher output. She could use them for extra speed, but
her goal is to use them for a big attack right out of the gate, or even for a quick dodge.
Midoriya sees her approach and lowers to meet her. It's an odd move—Nejire would prefer to
climb higher if she was in his position—but then again, Midoriya likes being unorthodox. She adds
more power to the spirals in her hands, all the way up to a full charge, and increases the
concentration of the power. She slows down a bit, too, not wanting to get caught up in Midoriya's
tentacles before she can attack.
They close the distance, Nejire looking into eyes full of electricity and fixing a confident face.
She's got this. A full charge at close range is enough to bring him down, and even if he doesn't take
the brunt, he'll still be forced to move and therefore be open to another attack.
She waits until they're a foot apart to make her move. With one leg, she lets off a blast that sends
her sharply to the left, angling her body to let off the full-charge spirals. But Midoriya cuts a turn
too, in the exact same direction as her. Nejire shivers as bolts of his green lightning make contact
with her skin, and rolls and sways to dodge a few whips. But she keeps close, and just when he's
about to break away, she lets her spirals free, centered right at his stomach.
There's an explosion of gold and green, separating them and forcing Nejire to squeeze her eyes
shut. This whole thing wasn't part of her plan, not in the slightest, but she decides to roll with it.
Blindly rushing in the direction she saw Midoriya go, she reaches out to tag him. Her hand makes
contact with bare, warm skin. It's hard, and therefore probably abs. Midoriya has nice abs. "Tag!"
Nejire pulls away, wanting to create space but at the same not wanting to expose her back to
Midoriya. His tentacles are still there, though she can barely make them out. Once her vision clears
slightly, she can tell that they're frozen in place as he tries to regain his sight. The explosion
must've been brighter on his end.
She gets maybe ten feet away before her sight completely clears and she can see what's exactly
what. Midoriya is still there, blinking away like there's something in his eye while running his
hands up and down his front to get a feel for how damaged his costume is. And his costume is
pretty damaged. A hole the size of a stop sign exposes his lower torso, the edges frayed. Nejire's
relieved to see that there are no burns.
"You're… still here," Midoriya says, rubbing his eyes.
"Mmhm," Nejire agrees. It's kinda funny to look at how confused he is, even if it's totally justified,
because by all means she should've run off by now. But she hasn't. How weird.
"Has..." He doesn't finish his sentence and instead powers up his Quirk some more. His muscles
spasm and flex, and Nejire gets another eyeful of his toned stomach. His predatory smile slips on,
and her breath hitches. Ah, that explains why she hasn't flown away yet. Midoriya's hot.
"It's been more than ten seconds." And thus the chase is on.
Chapter End Notes
Oh no, he's hot! I can't be the only one who's had that moment with a friend, right?
Right? Someone please validate the fact that I find most of my friends highly attractive
even though I'd rather date a literal pig then them.
Anyways, more was supposed to happen in this one, but I underestimated how much
space the big three would take up, so you'll have to wait for more patrols and real
action. I mean real as in not trianing action. And before you ask, yes Aizawa will hear
about Izuku destroying a whole house just because. And even if I don't intend to type
out more of the exercise shown above, you bet your ass the boy gets to be the runner
again and causes even more chaos. That's just the Deku style.
Also, some of you are worried about Izuku's mental state and developing martyr
complex. Don't worry, it will be addressed eventually. Your guess as to how, though. I
hope you enjoyed. Cheers!
A Taste of the Law
Chapter Notes
TW maybe? Just some minor gore and injury. The start and end of anything triggering
will be bolded.
It stinks to high hell. Aizawa can't say he's surprised, though. Big warehouses like this one often
do, especially the old ones by the sea. Rotting fish, ocean, and trash mix together in the hot
noonday sun to make something truly abhorrent. It's enough to make stomachs churn, but Aizawa's
smart enough to know how to press on despite that. Not that he thinks it's any less disgusting, but
years and years of dealing with filth have made him more or less immune.
Of course, he's not here to take stock of the stench of this city's ports. Instead, he's looking for a
different kind of filth: Human trafficking.
He's dealt with this kind of stuff before, and seen all the things that come with it, but never on this
scale. When the detective first told them exactly how many disappearances were attributed to this
one group, he thought that the man misspoke.
Fifty in two months. Just under one a day, all under the age of nine. It makes him want to vomit
because the dots are there, easy to connect, and the final picture isn't pretty.
Breaking into the warehouse is easy, especially because no breaking is required. All it takes is a
little planning with his capture gear, and he's crouching just inside of a broken window on a beam
of steel. The smell isn't as bad inside, but it's slightly different. More industrial, with the stale scent
of cooked food. That warrants a further search.
Careful to not cast any shadows (which is hard to do and why he would prefer to do this type of
thing at night), Aizawa swings along the rafters, looking down for anything eye-catching. There's
nothing, but that doesn't mean much. Anyone with a brain would know to clean up after making
something to eat. But there are also no signs of other people, so Aizawa lowers himself to the
floor. Maybe a closer look will reveal more.
The structure is only half full, mostly of old and rusty shipping containers and the occasional
puddle of murky water. There's junk, too, lots of it. People like to use places like these as free
garbage dumps; it's why Dagobah Beach became so dirty.
Aizawa walks past one shipping container and sees a rather large scorch mark on the side, along
with a massive dent. He pauses, touching it with his fingers. It's not warm, but soot comes off and
dirties his fingertips. Walking back around to the front of the container, he pushes on the door with
both hands. It gives way with a loud scrape, and he cautiously slips inside, Quirk activated.
In the dim red glow, he sees that it's empty of people. Pulling out his phone for better lighting, he
flicks on the flashlight. The container is a smaller one and has clearly housed people, or maybe just
one person. A bag hangs from the ceiling, marked with burns. There's a piece of plywood resting
on two cinder blocks being used as some kind of desk. Scratches line the walls, probably for use as
tally marks. What they're counting is numerous, and Aizawa doesn't like that.
He takes a few pictures and exits. There are more containers, so he checks those next. None of
them are open. It's possible that the one he was able to get into is being used by a homeless person.
It would raise the question of how they got in, but it wouldn't be impossible. And there are lots of
other warehouses around. There's a chance he'll still find something about the missing children.
The second warehouse is completely empty. The third is full of wooden crates that squeak and
scratch with the sound of thousands of rats, but not people. The fourth one, though, is the most
interesting.
A campfire, put out and with a tripod still up for holding a pot or kettle over it. Crates and chairs
arranged in a circle. A large desk with blank sheets of paper on it. Bedrolls, sleeping bags, even a
tent. Nothing inherently criminal, barring the breaking and entering, but Aizawa's gut doesn't feel
right. He pulls one of the drawers out from the desk. Inside is a black pen, a flashlight with a purple
lens, and an old handheld gaming device in mint condition, complete with spare batteries and three
cartridges. Definitely not a homeless person's.
Aizawa takes the pen and flashlight but leaves the games be. He clicks the pen and marks a line on
the paper. Nothing. Perhaps his hunch is correct. He turns on the flashlight and points it at the
papers. Writing can be seen. Whoever's doing this is sneaky. But not sneaky enough.
The first page is in English, but the handwriting is so bad that Aizawa can't read it. He takes a
picture and moves on to the next. This time, the handwriting is neat and big, with the occasional
scuffed ink, like someone with big hands would write. But it's not in English or Japanese. The text
looks sort of like English, but the order of the letters looks like gibberish, and there are lots of extra
accent marks. He takes a picture of it, along with all the rest which are also in the same language.
Aizawa carefully places everything back where it was. If this is what he thinks it is, then he's lucky
the traffickers aren't here. Or maybe unlucky since he'd really like to have the chance to bring them
in himself. But this is a recon mission, and if they come back, then the lion mutant type could be
hard to deal with. It's a toss-up, really. Aizawa's good—he knows that—and his capture scarf is
strong. But the lion threw a fully grown man over six meters with one arm, has a pair of claws, and
fights with at least five underlings. It's a match made in hell for Aizawa.
He takes one last look at the camp and snaps a few more pictures. He'll contact the police once he's
out. They'll put together a team quickly and take care of everything. Maybe they'll even have a
stakeout if the evidence Aizawa has is good enough and applies to the kidnapping case.
The area dips in temperature, and the atmosphere suddenly feels thicker. Aizawa tenses, grabbing
his scarf. Then, a fog appears from nowhere, purple, black, and cold-looking. As quickly as he can,
Aizawa maneuvers up to the rafters. And he does so just in time.
A figure steps out. It's hard for Aizawa to tell because he's behind the portal, but they look tall and
skinny, with weird decorations on their arms. They're followed by more people, one of them the
very man Detective Tsukauchi was injured by. He's definitely at least two meters tall, and his mane
is bigger than the drawing depicted. Aizawa takes another quick picture, already ready to leave. He
might be able to get the drop on them, but then what? His capture scarf is long, but not long enough
for the roughly ten meter drop to the villains. And there's not enough to bind all of them at once. If
he attacks and loses, then there'll be one more dead hero, no more evidence, and more kids being
abducted. It's the logical choice.
Then a child, so tiny and scared-looking, is pushed through the portal. Their hands are bound, and
their mouth is gagged. Someone gets out behind them and delivers a harsh kick to their back. The
child falls to the ground whimpering. The portal changes into a vaguely humanoid shape, with
glowing yellow eyes and a weird chunk of metal around their neck.
The first figure to step out of the portal says something about being careful with the product and
plops down at the desk. The lion mutant sits down at a crate, and the rest of the villains linger. The
child is tied to a chunk of heavy-looking brick and is left to sit on the floor. Aizawa very calmly
navigates to the HN app on his phone and calls for backup at his position. Then, he jumps.
He lands between the villains and the child, rolling to absorb the impact and pulling one of them
up in his scarf in one fluid motion. A quick activation of his Quirk and a hard pull brings them in
close, and he elbows their solar plexus before they can even scream. A simple uppercut is used to
knock them out, and Aizawa pushes them away. One down.
Something whizzes by his head, and he ducks, dropping low and flaring his Quirk to catch as many
of them in it at once. The usual curses that follow unusable Quirks provide enough of a distraction
for Aizawa to tie three more of them up and make sure they're not a threat. But now he's left with
the three who didn't try to attack, either out of having a plan or too slow of a reaction time.
The lion stares him down, front and center. He looks vaguely surprised but more focused than not.
He's settled into some kind of stance, like a wrestler's but more loose and open. His claws are on
full display, and Aizawa can tell that he won't go down easily.
The other two are less worrying. The person at the desk, who's a twenty-something with hands
mounted on himself, is slowly standing up. He was wearing gloves, but he's peeled them off by
now. The warper is completely frozen, possibly because his Quirk is what allows him to move,
possibly out of shock. Either way, it can't last.
Aizawa blinks and rushes the three of them, getting in close to the lion before skidding around a
swift swipe of a paw and targeting the man with the hands. His scarf is primed, and his Quirk is
ready to be activated. He'll deal with the weakest first, then the warper, then the lion. Backup
should be here soon. Taking one out should be easy enough.
Then a portal opens up in front of him, protecting the skinny man, and Aizawa is forced to lunge
away, not wanting to end up wherever it may lead. Off-balance, he tries to right himself and get
them in his Quirk again, but the lion chooses this moment to pounce.
Aizawa is tackled to the floor, the wind leaving his lungs, and his head takes a good amount of the
impact. He feels woozy now, and he just barely registers that the lion is holding him down. It's
hard to think straight, and the fog in his head makes it impossible to process information right. But
he can't give up.
He strains against the lion's grip, forcing his head and chest up and sinking his teeth into the man's
cheek as hard as he can. There's a grunt of pain, and the grip weakens enough for him to get a hand
free. Instantly, his knife is out, and he doesn't hesitate to sink it into the bigger man's shoulder and
kick him as hard as he can in the crotch.
The lion backs away, and Aizawa stumbles to his feet, holding the bloody knife in one hand and
using the other to keep his balance. He scans the area. The lion is holding back the skinny man
from rushing in, and the child is behind him, a good ten feet away. Aizawa backs up some more,
putting some distance between him and the villains. The kid is still tied up and squirming against
the ropes. Backup is on the way; all he has to do is stall.
"Stupid heroes, barging in and ruining my work," the man with the hands hisses. "Do you know
how valuable that brat is? No, you don't. Instead you see some child in the hands of villains and
come in, knock out my henchmen, and stab my lion! You're nothing more than a man enjoying
state-sponsored violence!"
Aizawa doesn't answer, partly because he doesn't need to but mostly because he can't. His mind is
slow, and he doesn't think he can manage a coherent sentence right now. So he takes a stronger
stance and tries to think about his position. The hand man is in charge, or at least he thinks he is.
He doesn't know his Quirk, other than it being touch-based in the hands, and the man is in perfect
condition. The lion is weakened, but his knife didn't go in deep enough to do any real damage. At
most, the man's left arm will be out of commission. And the warper…
He forgot about the warper. Fuck.
He looks around wildly, Quirk on and head screaming in pain. But it's already too late. A portal,
three or four meters big, opens up right above him. Water pours out.
Aizawa dives for the child, covering them so they don't get hit with the massive weight of falling
liquid. It hits him instead, and he barely holds up. He hates having his back turned to the villains,
but all of the water will distract and keep them at bay for a little while, so he tries to cut at the
ropes holding the child. It's hard. There are multiple ropes, and the water makes him inaccurate. He
nearly cuts the child, but he manages to get most of them.
Then, before he cuts the last one, he looks behind him, just in time. A dark face, a mane soaked in
seawater. Aizawa kicks it with all of his might, once, twice, three times. There's a crack, a moan,
and then a thump. Hopefully they've been knocked out, but he's not counting on it.
He severs the last rope and crawls out of the falling water. Every second it pounds at his back
drives him closer to exhaustion, and the way the child clings to his aching body with a death grip
doesn't help either.
Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a hand, and then an arm, and then a head. The water is still
pouring, but they're still trying to get to the child. Aizawa won't let them. He changes his hold on
his knife so it's pointed downwards and slams it down into the hand, hard. There's a crunch,
followed by a thump and a howl of pain. Aizawa kicks the head for good measure and hurries
out of the water.
By the time he does, the portal has closed and the warehouse is filled with an inch or two of water.
Aizawa does his best to stand up straight, but he collapses and settles for sitting up. The villains are
nowhere to be found, only leaving bits of torn cloth, blood, and the remains of the camp behind.
Even the ones he knocked out have been taken, and his knife has been tossed a few feet away.
Aizawa watches closely as it turns to dust.
He feels himself start to slip but digs his fingernails into the palms of his hand. The pain keeps him
awake. He looks at the child. Their gag is still on, so he pulls it off. Like him, they can't speak, and
Aizawa nearly loses himself in their doe-like green eyes. They remind him of Midoriya.
Midoriya would've been one helluva hero to have for that fight. Flight to avoid the portals, brute
strength for the lion mutant, and tendrils for easy capture. But whether or not it's worth risking the
boy's innocence to fight human traffickers is a whole other debate, one for a more alert and awake
Aizawa. And so, when he hears another person come up behind him, crying out that backup has
arrived, he lets himself fall asleep.
[x]
Izuku's week off passes quickly. He lifts, he runs, he eats lunch with his friends, and he trains hard.
His talks with Nedzu about the merchandise idea continue, and together they lay out the
groundwork for everything. But he still misses being out on patrol.
Every time he goes out for a run, his license stays nestled in his pocket, and if he takes a few
alternative routes to slightly less safe neighborhoods, no one can fault him. He's not really looking
for crime, but it feels like a waste to run around without being ready for it. Aizawa would probably
have something stern to say about it, and Gran probably would too, but they don't supervise his
runs, and what they don't know won't hurt them.
He doesn't stop any criminals, though. No one so much as tries to jaywalk in front of him, which is
great for the safety of the city, but it only makes him more antsy. But this Monday, he's due back at
the station for day patrol, and his restlessness will soon be over.
But he has to lift weights first.
Padding up to Gym Midoriya, Izuku notes that it's gotten slightly colder recently. Nothing too bad
—it's still mid-August—but the July heatwaves are gone. He wonders if he'll have to make
modifications to his costume to be better suited. The Provisional License Exam was a good test run,
and that was only half a day. He'll have to do some further research on it later. Right now, it's arm
day.
The door swings open, and Izuku reflexively reaches to turn on the lights but stops when he sees
that they're already on. All Might is further inside, sitting in an armchair with a blanket on his lap
and a hot cup of something in his hands.
"Good morning, sir!" Izuku greets, walking over to a rack and getting it set for pull ups.
"Good morning, Young Midoriya," the man says back, quiet and tired. It's enough to make Izuku
worried. All Might is usually chipper in the mornings, fresh-faced and ready for a day of villain
busting. And he's drinking what looks like hot cocoa or heavily creamed coffee, something he
never does because of his stomach injury. Izuku wants to ask about it, but he's not sure of how. So
he grabs the bar and hauls himself up. He'll think about it for a while.
After pull ups come strict curls, then tricep kickbacks, pushups, shoulder presses, and a weighted
plank. He's done this so many times that it's all second nature now, which allows his mind to
wander. He thinks of All Might, of course. His worry hasn't lessened at all, but he also hasn't seen
Aizawa in a while, not even for homeroom. He'd be more worried about it, but Present Mic had
told him that the scruffy man was doubling up on shifts and couldn't teach. Other faculty members
have been covering for him, and Vlad King is the one overseeing his training. But all Izuku can
think about is how bad the case he's on must be if he's working twice the usual amount.
His workout finishes faster than he's ready for. The timer goes off, and Izuku slowly drops his
plank and pushes the weights off his back. He's sore, but not terribly so, just the usual amount
post-workout.
He stands, wiping some sweat off his brow before racking the weights. Then he just stands there
quietly. The silence is thick with an emotion he can't quite place. Something sad, or maybe pitiful.
Izuku sits on the bench.
"My limit has shrunk to three hours," All Might says, running his finger around the rim of his mug.
He takes a sip and swallows. "It's not an unexpected thing, but I didn't realize how unprepared I
was for it until yesterday."
Izuku says nothing and wordlessly stands. He walks over, mind filled with thoughts. How soon
would All Might be forced to retire? Could Izuku master One for All before he does? Has anyone
picked up on his waning activity?
"Three hours is still plenty of time for the world's Symbol of Peace to save lives," Izuku says,
kneeling beside All Might's armchair and setting one his hands on the armrest. "You'll still be
number one for a while."
"I know that," All Might sighs. "But I'm more worried about what will happen after."
"The people will still love you," Izuku assures. "You've given so much to them—to everyone—and
if I had to guess, then they won't blame you for hiding your condition."
All Might shakes his head. "That's not what I'm worried about. I just don't know what I'll do with
my life when my career is over." Izuku remains silent, letting him speak. "I'll have you to watch
over, but there'll come a day when I've taught you everything I know, and I can't help but wonder
what good I'll be to society then."
"You don't want to spend the rest of your life being useless." Izuku looks away, saddened. Right
now, with the dim early morning light and the wrinkled old clothes, and his sunken facial features,
All Might looks old, like an animated skeleton with moments left. Izuku really doesn't like the
sight.
"Yes. It's selfish, I know. I want to be valued even when I'm not giving anything to society." All
Might coughs. There's no blood, but it's a small comfort. "I should just retreat to a cabin in the
mountains and live out the rest of my days like many an aging man. But I don't want to."
"Then find a new purpose, or try to extend your time as a hero," Izuku suggests. "Maybe if you
take more time off, you'll stave off your retirement."
"Perhaps," All Might agrees. "But it won't fix everything. I'll have less time as a civilian, but even
then I'll still be a drag on society."
"You wouldn't," Izuku disagrees. "You're All Might. No one in their right mind would ever think
you're anything other than a legend. But if you want to keep busy in retirement…" He trails off,
thinking. "Teach."
"Teach?" All Might raises an eyebrow.
"Yeah, teach." Izuku smiles and looks him in the eye. "You're the greatest hero to ever live, and
you've already helped me so much on my journey to be your successor. You say that one day I'll
know all you know, but others won't. Think of all the knowledge and experience you could share
with young heroes. You'll help them grow into themselves, which will make the world safer."
"I… hmm." All Might taps on his mug. His brow creases in thought. "That would definitely help."
"Yep." Izuku nods. "I know a lot of people that would love to be taught by you. You're everyone's
hero, after all. And," he adds, a new thought striking him, "if you want to keep being a pro for
longer, then rest when I'm out."
"Pardon?" All Might cocks his head.
"When I'm on patrol, you shouldn't be," Izuku explains. "We're both One for All users, right? And,
well, if one of us is out there, keeping people safe, then why should the other be exhausting
himself to do the same? I won't be on active duty every day, but I will be often enough to give you
plenty of rest. How does that sound?"
"My boy." All Might places a hand on Izuku's shoulder, and the boy stands up halfway. They hug
for a long while. It's nice.
[x]
"Hey, it's me again." Izuku stands in front of the cold bars, decked out in full hero gear. He's got
five new costumes now; hopefully they'll last.
Inside the cell, a person looks up from their comic book. "I'm surprised you haven't given up yet,"
they say, carelessly tossing the comic aside. Their cell is much more home-like now, with a small
radio, a few magazines, and a trash bin full of food wrappers.
"I'm not going to stop until you're safe," Izuku replies. "And even after that, I'll still talk to you. It's
not that surprising that I'm here for the tenth time."
"Uh huh, sure." They sit up in their bunk and cross their arms. "And what about when someone
comes looking for me?"
"No one has, yet." Izuku sits cross-legged on the floor. He's only got a few minutes until patrol is
due to start. "And they might not. And even if they do, we'll protect you. I'll protect you."
They shake their head and let out a chortle. Standing, they walk over to the bars and sit down
across from Izuku. "Yeah right, you're a string bean, and most heroes run at the sight of the
bastard."
"I'm not a string bean," Izuku defends, unsure of how to prove otherwise besides taking his top off,
which is definitely an off-limits idea. "And I'm not like most heroes. I won't run when someone
needs help."
There's silence, and Izuku takes stock of how they look. Better, much better than the first day.
Their hair has grown a bit, the pink and green dye fading and being replaced by dark brown. Their
cheeks are fuller, and their clothes don't hang off them anymore. They're still pale, but the bruises
have faded.
"You done checking me out?"
"I'm happy you're looking better, that's all," Izuku says, much too quickly to be believable. And he
can feel his face warm. Great, he wasn't even doing that and there's no way they'll believe he
wasn't. Maybe he should ask Aizawa about holding a poker face? "I still don't know your name."
"Go cry me a river," they snip back. "I know you only want to know my deadname so you can
figure out who the fuck I am, and that's not gonna happen."
"I don't care about your official name," Izuku says genuinely. He looks them dead in their eyes and
holds their attention for a bit. "The police do, but I don't. I want you to feel safe and comfortable.
And I know that's a tall order when you're in a jail cell, but I want you to feel better anyways,
because I care. And, well, I like you. As a friend!" he quickly adds, ignoring the little smirk that
plays on their lips. "And I want to know the people I like better. So please, what's your name?"
They look at each other for a while, not speaking. They look conflicted. Then Izuku's phone
buzzes. He has to head to patrol.
"I'm sorry, but I've gotta go." Izuku stands, happy that he got to talk to them but disheartened at the
lack of progress. "I'll be back later today, and if not, tomorrow morning. Think about what I said,
okay? I really do care about you." But then, they speak.
"Midoriya." Izuku pauses halfway down the hall of cells. "My name's Chance."
A smile breaks out across his face, and he resists the urge to run back to see them. "Thank you for
telling me, Chance," he says back, not bothering to hide the joy in his voice. "I'll see you later!"
"Yeah. Later."
Izuku walks up the stairs with a pep in his step, smiling and double-checking that his costume is all
in place. Once he reaches the ground floor, he heads for the back exit where the station parks their
units. He's supposed to be working with an older officer today, if only to have a person with extra
experience with him at all times. He wonders what it'll be like. Does having a cop with him at all
times mean that he doesn't have to worry about the laws? Surely if he's with someone seasoned,
they'll make sure he doesn't do anything wrong.
Izuku rounds a corner, mind still going a hundred miles an hour. He doesn't notice the yellow
sleeping bag on the floor until he trips over it, only saved from face planting by a quick hop. He
looks down at who he just tripped over.
"Mr. Aizawa?" The man in question rolls over in his bag and cracks open an eye.
"Problem Child."
"Sorry for waking you up, sir!" Izuku apologizes. "I didn't see you, and, well—"
"It's fine." He doesn't try to get up but blinks away some of the sleep in his eyes. "I didn't pick a
good spot; it was bound to happen eventually. I—" Aizawa yawns, which Izuku's never even heard
of happening. "Yeah, you get the picture."
"Is your case going alright?" Izuku asks.
"About as alright as something like kidnapping can go," Aizawa says. "Meaning not at all. We're
thinking about putting in an order for more hands. And before you ask, you're not on the list of
candidates. Sixteen is too young."
Izuku nods. "I understand, sir." It stings a little, being treated with kid gloves, but he has to accept
it. "Um, I better be going now."
"Yeah, but one last thing." Izuku makes a confused hum and focuses on his teacher. The man
smirks. "Nice job making Vlad pull his hair out. And if you want to make it up to Cementoss, his
favorite sweet is white chocolate."
Izuku laughs. "Thank you, sir. I'll see you later."
The rest of the walk through the station is quick and uninterrupted. There are no more sleeping
bags to trip over or mentors to talk to, and Izuku makes it out the back door right on time. He's met
with the sight of three rows of police cruisers and one row of vans. A few officers stand around,
waiting for their shifts to start or making small talk. He scans the area for someone tall and old-
looking, going off a brief description given when he was told who he was patrolling with.
"Hey, Little Might." Izuku looks over to see a tall man with silver skin in a police uniform step out
of a car. The boy looks behind him, thinking it's for someone else.
"Me?"
"You're the one that carried two ambulances ten kilometers," the officer says, stepping closer.
Izuku can tell that he's not completely made of silver now. There are little patches of brown on his
skin and the occasional gold accent on his face and neck, like a bit of his original self was broken
away and he replaced it. And, like the description said, he's very tall. "Unless that wasn't you?"
"No, sir, it was!" Izuku affirms.
"Good. Now get in the car."
Being in the front seat of a police cruiser is very different from being in the back. It's much more
roomy, for one, and is a lot more interesting. A computer sits where the radio would be in a normal
car, and there's a large wireless set on the dash, every now and then transmitting some chatter.
There's a law book under Izuku's seat and a large mirror that clearly shows the back of the cab,
which is barred and reinforced for containing criminals.
"Do you know what to expect out of today, kid?" the officer asks.
"Not really?" Izuku says, watching as he shifts into drive and pulls away from the parking spot. "I
know what happens on hero patrols and on the night shift, but I don't want to assume that it'll be the
same here."
"That's a smart thing to think," the officer agrees. "Today, we're mostly going through residential
areas and then a bit of downtown. There'll be plenty of real pros around if things get out of hand,
and it's pretty quiet. Figured I'd ease you into this."
"Oh. Thank you," Izuku says neutrally.
The officer chuckles. "Don't feel bad, kid. It's more for my benefit than yours. I know you can
handle yourself just fine. But I need to know your deal before we go out looking for trouble, got
it?" Izuku nods, understanding. "Good. My name's Officer Gin, by the way. And I'm one hundred
and seven, so believe me when I say I've seen some things."
"You… wow," Izuku says, fascinated. "Is it because you're made of metal?"
"Yup," Officer Gin smiles, his teeth chipped with gold. They're well on their way to their route
now, the city streets turning into a more suburban environment. "Silver keeps for a long time if you
treat it well. Of course, I was an idiot teen, so some bits of me aren't perfect"—he points to a
splotch of brown on his right cheek—"but I'll still live a long time. And I'm partly bulletproof."
They chat as they drive down the streets of the city, every now and then discussing law, heroics,
and the ins and outs of being an average police officer. It's much more involved than Izuku
thought. The police have to keep track of all the heroes in their jurisdiction, manage all the regular
crime, process criminals, and house everyone they arrest until trial or transfer. "The fat, lazy cop
munching on doughnuts died after the invention of the hero license," Officer Gin says. "We put in
a lot of work, just like you hero types."
And work they put in. Within the first half of their shift, they respond to three cases of shoplifting,
catch a vandal, write a few speeding tickets, and rescue a cat from a tree. Well, Officer Gin does all
of those except the cat one. All the crime is done sans Quirks, and Izuku really only stands behind
his... partner? Teacher? Handler? Officer Gin while he slaps handcuffs on people and guides them
into the back of the cruiser. And the less said about the cat, the better. Izuku spends an hour wiping
off the lipstick of the old lady whose pet he returned.
"Extra muscle and an idiot deterrent," Officer Gin calls him. "If criminals see a hero with a cop,
even one as young and green-looking as you, they're less likely to try something. And if they do,
you can nab 'em as soon as you can."
It's all interesting and a little enlightening. Who knew that there was so much regular crime, even in
the middle of a workday? Granted, it was nothing bad and most of the culprits were young adults or
teens, but still. Who knew that criminal justice could be so eventful yet mundane? Izuku realizes
that his experience is probably skewed, but still, he gets a little bored on patrol. At least until the
wireless radio crackles to life and delivers a very exciting message.
"Hero-villain fight in progress. All available units to the intersection of 87th and 22nd. Large
crowds are already forming.”
"Ah, this'll be a good one for you." Officer Gin does a quick three-point turn and starts to drive in
the direction of the intersection listed. They're already close, and Izuku can hear people cheering
for a hero. "We'll have to keep people away from the fight and respond to anything that goes
wrong. It's our little piece for this type of thing. The heroes catch the villain, and we cops make
sure no bystanders get hurt in the process. Keep a sharp eye out, Little Might. It's all fun and
games, but I've seen stuff like this turn bad in a flash."
Despite the ominous warning, Izuku feels excitement flutter through him. It's been a while since
he's seen a hero fight live. Maybe it'll be someone new for him to add to his notebooks. But as he
steps out of the car and into the crowd of people, he forces himself to focus on the area around
them first and foremost.
He's in the middle of a street, flanked by two large buildings and a line of cars to his back.
Civilians part for him and Officer Gin but don't let it distract their cheering. Ambulances and fire
trucks are already there, ready to make off with any injured or assist with rescue and damage
control. The hero of the day is Kamui Woods, someone Izuku's seen in person before and who had
left some kind words on his Twitter. But Izuku already has him in his notebooks which makes him
slightly less interesting.
"Hey, kid." Officer Gin taps on his shoulder. "There's no barriers on that side, see?" Izuku looks
over to where the man is pointing in. There are, in fact, no barriers on the street to his left. "You
can make tendrils, right?" Izuku nods. "Head over there and block people from getting too close.
You've got my permission, and don't be afraid to yell at them. People have gotten too comfy
watching this kinda stuff since All Might came around."
Izuku does as ordered, quickly floating over to that part of the intersection and stepping in front of
the mob of people. He glances around quickly to make sure everyone's behind him. There's a
family of five—all with frog mutations—that he has to order back, but they comply with polite
ribbits, and Izuku safely blocks off the street with Blackwhip. It doesn't take that many strands, so
the strain on his body is light. He's left to keep watch of the scene before him, tuning out the
chatter behind him.
Kamui Woods is good. His Quirk is perfect for an urban environment, and he's well experienced
with it. He's fighting a villain who also has a maneuverability Quirk, a simple flight type. It's hard
to tell exactly what the original crime was, but a literal bag of money leaves little to the
imagination.
The villain is speedy, but Kamui Woods does a good job of making sure they can't make a break
for it. It's really all down to when the hero can force the villain into a corner, not if or even how the
final capture will be taken.
Refocusing on the crowds of people, Izuku looks carefully over the area. Nothing unusual is
present. Heroes and officers and barricades keep people from rushing forwards. It's a normal sight
for the situation, but Izuku gets the feeling that he can't let his mind wander.
He sees a gleam of metal across the intersection from where he's standing. It's at about thigh
height. Izuku doesn't want to assume anything, but he does keep a closer eye on that area, just in
case. He also looks over the other areas, just in case. He finds more flashes of metal reflecting
sunlight. Two of them, on the street to his left and right, in the front middle of the crowd. His
breathing quickens.
No one else has noticed, but then again it could be nothing. People wear shiny things all the time.
Bracelets, watches, cufflinks, phones, and even glasses could be responsible. But the placement is
what gets him. It's too much of a coincidence for him to be comfortable. It means there's probably a
fourth one, right behind him. He risks a glance over his shoulder. There's a man with his hands
tucked into the pocket of a hoodie, which bulges between him and the family of frogs.
Izuku turns back and forces himself to think. He doesn't know their goals or objectives, but it
probably revolves around causing as big of a distraction as possible. Ergo, they'll strike when the
crowd is least focused on their surroundings, which would be…
Kamui Woods finishes the fight with a kick, slamming the villain into the street below. The crowd
goes wild, and the four people Izuku noticed raise their gleaming guns. Something deep within
Izuku bubbles up to the surface. His hair stands on end, and shivers go down his spine. They're
going to shoot the family.
Izuku drops his whips, turns, and pushes the family aside. They fall to the ground in a heap, but not
before two gunshots ring out. What feels like a pair of massive punches slam into Izuku, but the
boy doesn't stumble. The gun is swiped from the man's hand, and he's wrapped up in black. Not
finished, Izuku pushes, casting out more whips to bind the other gunmen and the fallen villain in
the street.
There are screams, but Izuku tunes them out. He tunes everything out except for the family of five
looking at him in awe. He smiles.
It's a shame, really. Had he not been distracted, he'd have seen the hungry look directed at him by a
schoolgirl with twin buns of honey blonde hair as his blood spurts high and hits the concrete below.
Chapter End Notes
Fear not, this will all make sense because I have a plan. And yes, this is another quick
update because it's spring break now. Yay. I don't know why that looks so depressing.
I'm excited for some time off.
Other then that, I've got nothing. Have a nice day/afternoon/evening. Cheers!
Plus Ultra is Strictly Prohibited
Chapter Notes
Thanks for four thousand kudos!
"Oh god, oh god, oh god," Izuku hears, and yeah, that's a pretty sane reaction to this. He can feel
his pulse quicken, and the ache in his gut feels awful, but he still has a job to do. Freaking out
would only make everything worse. But the fact that there's no pain in his back makes it hard to
keep calm. No exit wound means that the bullet is still in there.
Fighting to keep his smile on, he looks for someone who's not in emotional distress. He can feel
the villains wrapped up in Blackwhip fighting to get free, and he can tell he's getting lightheaded.
"You," he says, eyes locking on to a man about his mother's age. "Yes, you," Izuku reaffirms,
seeing that the man is confused. "Pop open one of the containers on my belt. It'll have gauze in it.
Press it to where I'm bleeding, please." His voice shakes, and he tries to hide it. He'd hold the blood
in himself if he wasn't busy restraining five people.
The man does as he ordered, hands shaking the whole way. Izuku keeps still, watching as cops and
heroes crowd around the villains he caught. "I'm going to walk into the intersection," Izuku says,
loud and clear. He sees Officer Gin rushing over, which eases his worry somewhat. "Keep pressure
on it."
Izuku walks, supported by the random man and then Officer Gin. He makes it to the middle of the
road and carefully transfers possession of the villains to a wide-eyed Kamui Woods before he's
hauled into the back of an ambulance. It takes off instantly, and Izuku starts to drift off.
"Stay awake!" an EMT yells into his ear, making his eyes fly wide open. "You've got a strong
pulse still, you'll be just fine if you stay. Awake. What's your name?"
"Midoriya Izuku," he says, sluggish. The pain in his stomach isn't as bad anymore, now a distant
throb instead of a massive burn.
"Midoriya—great, matches the costume," the EMT continues. They firmly slap Izuku's cheek
when he starts to close his eyes again. "No no no, that's not allowed. Keep talking to me. What's
your blood type?"
"O," Izuku remembers.
"Nice, nice." The EMT looks away from him for a second and over to someone else. "I guess what
they say is true about those with type O if you're in here with two bullet wounds."
"What?" Izuku asks, blinking rapidly. It's getting hard to think, but his breathing is less frantic. Is
that a good thing?
"Just some crackpot old theory about blood types and personality," the EMT says, waving it off.
"No scientific backing whatsoever, but it still gets talked about a lot. How old are you?"
"Sixteen," Izuku answers.
"Sixteen?" the EMT says, surprised. "Why were you out there if you're so young?"
Izuku laughs, which hurts and makes him instinctively curl in on himself. Two EMTs force him
back so he's flat on the gurney, and he does his best to answer. "My teacher said I wasn't ready to
work on the cases he's on, so he sent me to work with the police for my safety."
"Ah, I gotcha." The EMT smiles. It doesn't quite reach his eyes. "I bet he's gonna be really worried
when he hears about this."
"Uh huh." Izuku nods. "And he'll give me a lecture too, even though he'd probably do what I did in
a heartbeat."
"Oh, I'm sure." The EMT laughs. "What's your hero name?"
"Deku." Izuku tries to look down at his stomach, but the EMT gently pulls his head back so he's
looking at the roof of the ambulance.
"Nope, not gonna happen," they say. "It's bad luck to look at your injury in an ambulance."
Izuku furrows his brow. "Really?" They only shrug. "How—" He swallows. "How bad does it
look?"
"You'll live," the EMT says, completely sure of themself. "I've seen worse, and you did a good job
keeping pressure on it. We'll get you to the hospital, and someone will put you under, and then the
fragments will come out. After that, it's just a couple of stitches. You might even be able to go to
school tomorrow if it's not as bad as I think it is."
"Maybe Recovery Girl will heal me," Izuku wonders out loud. "I hope she does. I want to go on
patrol tomorrow."
"Let's take it easy there, alright." The EMT pats him on the chest. "A couple days off will do you
good. There's no need to push yourself. Studies show that the Plus Ultra lifestyle is dangerous in
the long term."
Izuku laughs again and then winces again because bolts of pain shoot through him. "Ow…"
"I'll take it easy on the jokes," they decide. "We're gettin' close though—not much longer. Do you
go to UA?"
"Finest school for heroes in Japan," Izuku says with pride. "I still can't believe I got in."
"I wouldn't be. I mean, a Quirk like yours is amazing. Durability, strength, flight, and whatever
those whips are make an awesome combination."
Izuku blinks. "How do you know that?"
"I'm friends with one of the ambulance drivers you carried to the hospital," the EMT explains. "I
got curious and did a little reading. You're quite the hero already."
"Thanks. I'm just trying to help."
"Don't brush off a compliment like that," the EMT advises. "It sounds like you're demeaning how
important your work is. The people you've saved are alive because of you. Making it seem like a
small thing is disrespectful."
"I… huh." Izuku thinks for a moment. "I never thought of it like that."
"The best heroes usually don't at first. I've seen a lot of them back here in this ambulance. I know
what you guys are like."
And then, the ambulance rolls to a stop, and the doors fly open. Izuku is jostled slightly as the
gurney is rolled out of the back and onto the pavement. Lights blink around him, and he sees the
words Emergency Room printed in bright red below a cross. "We're here?"
"Told you we were close." The EMT smiles, looking down at him as they hurry through the entry
of the hospital at a running pace. "Just a few turns until the operating room. Then you'll be asleep
for a bit, and when you wake up, you'll be all better. Well, the stitches will still be there, but you
get what I'm saying."
Izuku nods and tries to relax, but it's hard to do when he knows he'll be having surgery done in less
than five minutes. He tries to count the number of lights in the hallway as he's pushed, keeping his
mind off of the impending operation. But then, after twenty or so lights and five turns, the gurney
slows to a stop. Izuku looks around and finds that he's in a sterile feeling room, with bright white
lights, clean metal shelves, and lots of equipment.
"This is where I've gotta leave you," the EMT says, helping a few others transfer Izuku from the
ambulance gurney to an operating table. A new person takes over keeping pressure on his wound.
"Make sure you never see me again, okay? No more hospital trips." They leave with one final pat
and a smile. Izuku is left to look up at the metal ceiling, half-blinded by the lights.
Everything from that point on is a blur. Izuku can vaguely recall someone asking if he's allergic to
anything and if he's had complications related to any kind of anesthetic. And then, he feels a prick
in his arm, and a person wearing a surgical mask tells him they're going to start. He's asleep before
the surgeon tells him his name.
And then, almost criminally quickly, he's awake again. Groggy and feeling barely alive, but awake.
There's no pain—that's the first thing he notices. He does feel stiff, though, like he's been asleep in
the same position for hours, which he probably was.
He reaches a hand up to his face, tempted to rub the sleep from his eyes. He yawns, stretching out
his arms and legs. When he tenses his core, he flinches. There's the pain, he thinks, all localized on
the bottom right part of his stomach.
Now more or less fully awake, he opens his eyes. And then immediately closes them again because
of how bright it is. Covering his face with one hand, he opens them again, slowly. Light filters in,
and he gradually becomes accustomed to it.
He's in a hospital room, a really big one. The only bed in it is his, but there are a lot of couches and
chairs. An IV is in his arm, hooked up to a pouch with some kind of liquid in it. Something like a
small clamp is on his index finger, attached to a wire that leads to a heart rate monitor. His legs feel
warm, so he pushes off the blankets over him, careful of his stomach. And then, lifting up the
hospital gown, he looks.
Stitches. Lots and lots of stitches greet his eyes, black on tanned skin. They go all the way from his
right hip to just above his belly button, an angry red line where the bullets went in. Two spots look
worse than the rest and are right on top of each other. Where the bullets went in, Izuku remembers.
It's not as bad as he thought it'd be. At least there are no bullet bits in him, and he should be okay.
He's half-tempted to stand up and see if he can walk with them in, but then he thinks about how
Mr. Aizawa would react to that and decides that it's not worth it. Instead, Izuku reaches for the
table to his right and grabs the remote. He hits the call button.
With less than a second to spare, the door to the room swings open, and a short, dark-skinned nurse
walks in. She blocks the door with her body, poking her head through the crack. "Not until I make
sure he's fine! You can all wait ten more minutes! Most of you are adults!"
Izuku watches, mouth hung open in surprise and confusion. The nurse slams the door shut and
locks it with a disgruntled huff before striding over to him.
"You're very popular," she says, unhooking him from the heart monitor and pushing it away.
"Thank you?" Izuku says, watching as she takes out a stethoscope and a few other medical
instruments.
"It's not a compliment." She shakes her head. "I practically had to beat all of them off with a stick
to keep them from barging in. Well, except for your mother. She was allowed in for a while but
chose to sit with your little posse after hearing that you wouldn't wake up for a few hours. Arm."
She holds a hand out, and Izuku moves his limb to it. She quickly takes his blood pressure, and
then his temperature, and the rest of the usual doctor's appointment stuff.
"Let me see your stitches," she orders, and Izuku carefully uncovers his stomach. "They look
perfect for what the doctor was working with," she comments, gently poking the middle of the line
with her pinky. Izuku flinches a bit, and she pulls back. "Do you need any painkillers?"
"Oh, no, I'll be fine," Izuku insists. "They don't hurt when I just lay here."
"Good. Keep laying here until they're fully healed. We know how you heroes think here, and Plus
Ultra is not allowed in this hospital." Seeing her serious expression, Izuku nods. "Now," she
continues, "do you feel alert?"
"Kind of. It's when I wake up in the morning," Izuku describes.
"That's good. It means we got the dose right." The nurse walks over to the IV and firmly places her
hand on his arm and grabs the bit of tube sticking into him. "What color is your underwear?"
"I—what? Ow!" The IV is pulled from his arm, and he carefully rubs the vein. "That was mean."
"You were shot twice and had fifty pieces of lead in you. Your small intestine suffered massive
trauma, and you lost a good deal of blood. You can handle a little needle." The nurse pushes the IV
stand away and looks at him again. "Do you need anything?"
"Um, some food maybe?" Izuku tries.
The nurse shakes her head. "No can do. Until your school nurse heals you, we don't want you
eating anything. Damage to your intestines, remember?"
"Yeah. Can I have some water then?"
"Sure. I'll go grab some." She starts to walk to the door but stops short. Turning around she says,
"Are you okay with seeing twenty people?"
"That's how many?!" Izuku cries. He swears he can hear a snicker through the door.
The nurse only groans. "Yeah. And some of them are way too impatient for their age and
profession!” That last part is shouted at the door. Laughter follows but the nurse ignores it and
turns to him again. She asks the same question.
"Yeah, I'll be alright," Izuku replies. The nurse looks at him like he's a dead man but gingerly
unlocks the door and turns the handle. She's all but smashed into the wall behind the door when it
swings open with the force of ten men.
Or rather a mother and three hero students. His mom is the first one to his side, wrapping her arms
around his shoulders and squeezing him tight. Izuku does the same, one-handed and careful of his
stitches. "I'm so happy you're alright," she says.
"Me too." Izuku pats her on the back and looks around the room. Hado, Amajiki, and Togata are
patiently (or impatiently depending on how you look at it) waiting behind his mom. All Might,
slimmed down and in a baggy suit, waves at him while Gran Torino shakes his cane threateningly.
Behind them, Mr. Aizawa and Officer Gin walk through the door, both ignoring how the nurse
glares at them with all the anger she can muster. "Um, hi?" he greets.
"Hi yourself," Hado says, walking around his bed to sit on the chair to his left. She's still in her
hero costume, and so are the other heroes in the room, barring All Might. Why Gran Torino has his
cane with him is a mystery, and not one he wants to find the answer to. Aizawa looks tired still,
though a bit better than this morning.
"We were worried for you, man," Togata says, moving down to stand next to Izuku's mom, his
hands resting on the rail of his bed. Amajiki hovers around behind him, as usual. "It's really scary
to hear that you've been shot through the HN."
"They put that on the network?" Izuku asks, surprised even if he knows he shouldn't be.
"Kamui Woods was pretty quick about getting the word out," Aizawa says, pulling up a chair and
flopping down. "I'm pretty sure we all knew before you were even here."
"That little program is really handy for stuff like this," Gran agrees. "How do you feel, kid? I know
getting shot isn't any fun."
"Not bad if I don't move," Izuku answers. He looks down at his torso and hikes up his gown. "They
said Recovery Girl would be here soon?"
"In about ten minutes," All Might replies. "She'll be kicking and screaming about having an escort
and about you being injured, but she will heal you."
"That's good."
"I'll say," Hado agrees, leaning over to look at his stitches. "Those look pretty painful. You sure
they don't hurt?"
Izuku shakes his head. "Not at all. And even if I do move, it's not as bad as it was before I was
here. One of the EMTs kept making me laugh the whole way here."
"Oh, no, it wasn't like that!" Izuku tries to explain as everyone cringes. "I felt really tired, and they
did everything they could to keep me from falling asleep. I'm really thankful that they were there."
"If you're sure," his mom says, picking a bit of fuzz out of his hair.
"Mmhm," Izuku nods. "Um, the nurse said there were more people here?" he asks.
"Kamui Woods, Uwabami, and Best Jeanist took off to keep working but were here for a while,"
Amajiki informs.
"T-they were all here?" Izuku says, a touch starstruck because Best Jeanist is an amazing hero he's
never seen in person before, and to think he was outside of his hospital room.
"Yep." Hado leans back in her seat and twirls a lock of hair around a finger. "The family you saved
are also out there, waiting because they don't want to be impolite, and there's also—"
"Mirio, not much longer. We still have some paperwork to file and the agency is a long ways
away." A tall man pokes his head through the doorframe, and Izuku's eyes widen. Green hair, a
yellow highlight, glasses, and a suit with a polka-dot tie.
"You're Sir Nighteye," Izuku says, awe rushing through him. Ranking doesn't exactly equate to
skill in the hero world, and Nighteye is definitely a prime example of it. By all means, he should be
in the top ten, but he isn't for whatever reason.
"Yes," Nighteye says, looking over to him with a weird expression. It's somewhere between
contempt and utter apathy and leaves Izuku feeling like the dirt the man scraped off his perfectly
polished dress shoes this morning. His head turns to the skinny form of All Might, who tries to
straighten up and look him in the eyes but fails to hold it. Sir Nighteye only sniffs. "Ten minutes,
Mirio. You can talk with them after you're done for the day."
"You got it, Sir!" Togata agrees, giving a quick thumbs up. Nighteye leaves with a quick,
disappointed look directed at All Might and doesn’t shut the door behind him. The room is left in
uncomfortable silence.
"Are they, like, exes or something?" Hado wonders aloud. Izuku bites his lip, fighting back a
laugh, but the second he makes eye contact with Gran, it's all over.
"You, you, ow!" Izuku laughs, clutching at his side. It hurts, but he just can't stop. "N-n-no, they're
not exes! I can't… I can't believe you'd think that!"
"Is there something we're missing here?" Hado asks, looking over at Togata. The blond boy only
shrugs and lets out a soft chuckle.
"I guess so."
"No, you don't understand." Izuku giggles, starting to calm down. Gran Torino, who was laughing
with him, has completely stopped but still holds on to a grin that can really only be described as
shit-eating. "It's just… Yagi and Nighteye." He leaves it at that, not wanting to risk exposing the
secret.
"Yes, it's quite amusing," All Might says, pointedly looking away from the door, his face a bright
red. Izuku notices and starts to apologize, but he's cut off. "No harm, no foul, young Izuku," All
Might insists. "I'm not so full of myself to feel like I'm above being laughed at."
"And ain't that a big whoop," Gran quips. Izuku chuckles, though he's the only one that does. It's
weird being in a room full of people who aren't in on the big secret while the big secret himself is
sitting with perfect posture among the rest of them.
"If it's not too much to ask, I'd like to apologize." Officer Gin steps forward and bows respectfully
to both Izuku and his mother. "It was my fault you were over there, son, and my fault you were
shot. I'm sorry your first day patrol ended on such a sour note."
"You were just thinking of the bystanders. You couldn't've known that there were gunmen in the
crowd," Izuku points out. "And I'm sorry I'm in here too, but it's better than the alternative. If I
hadn't moved when I did…"
"And how did you know to move?" Mr. Aizawa asks, leaning forward in his seat. "From what
we've gathered, no one noticed the criminals until shots were fired and you captured them."
"I saw light reflecting off of metal objects," Izuku answers. "At first I thought they were watches or
something, but then I saw that there were two more, both in the front middle part of their section. I
thought that was odd, so I turned around and saw someone with a heavy-looking thing in their
hoodie. When I saw them start to raise their hands, I just knew I had to move."
"That's some good deduction work." Officer Gin nods. "It's the kind of quick thinking that saves
lives. I only wish you got the guy sooner."
"I wasn't sure until they started to raise their weapons all at once," Izuku sighs. "I guess, looking
back, I can see why waiting was a bad idea."
"Hey, chin up," Hado says, quite literally putting a finger under his chin and forcing it up. "You're
alive, they're all alive, the bad guys are in jail, and your Quirk blocked most of the damage.
Everything is alright."
"And now you know better," Togata agrees. "You'll do better next time."
"Snipe back at UA would be a good person to talk to if you want to get better at dealing with
guns," Aizawa says. "I know that there's special takedowns for people holding firearms. Learn a
couple, and you'll be ready for that kind of thing again. If it even happens a second time," he adds,
seeing the worry on Izuku's mother's face. "Stuff like that is really rare nowadays."
"Yeah, I'll definitely do that," Izuku agrees.
"Um, excuse me?" There's a knock on the doorframe, and a rather short woman with green hair and
frog-like facial features steps just short of crossing the threshold. "Is it alright if we come in? The
children are getting restless."
"Yeah, sure," Izuku says, waving her in. "I don't mind."
The woman nods and steps back, letting two young-looking kids and a teenager step through
before her. She takes her husband, who is much more frog-like than her, by the arm and walks
through with him. The five of them stand a respectful distance away, the younger children
fidgeting and the older girl staring at him blankly.
"You're younger than I expected," the teenager says suddenly, reaching up with one of her long
fingers to touch the bottom of her chin.
"Tsuyu," the mother scolds, though there's no real heat behind it. "I'm quite sorry, young man.
She's really good about speaking her mind and is almost honest to a fault. We're all very thankful
that you saved us. Please don't let my daughter's bluntness take away from that."
"It's fine," Izuku smiles. "I didn't find it offensive. Though I can't say I expected it."
"You are quite young, however," the father agrees with his oldest child. "You must be pretty good
if they let you out on the streets."
"Well, I mean, I guess?" Izuku scratches the back of his head. "I just work really hard, and I'm
lucky to have lots of amazing teachers. And I'm improving all the ti—"
"Just take the compliment," Amajiki cuts him off. "You're amazing. That's a fact."
"He's gotcha there," Togata says, patting his friend (because despite how obvious it is that they like
each other, no one's made a move yet) on the shoulder. The shorter boy leans into the touch. "It's
also rude to just brush something aside like that."
"Is it?"
"It is now."
"Regardless," the man of the frog family says, bringing the attention back to the earlier
conversation. "We're very thankful that you were there to protect us. And I know it's not traditional,
but we'd like to have you over for dinner one night. Just to repay you a small amount."
"You don't have to!" Izuku rushes to decline. "I was just doing my job. Really, I think I get hazard
pay for doing what I did. I'm already paid enough, and—"
"I've already accepted the invitation," his mother says. "We'll be having dinner with the Asui's
Sunday night, and it will be delightful." Her eyes and tone leave no word for argument. Izuku nods
and agrees.
"Your hero name is Deku, right?" the teenager of the Asui family (he really needs to know their
names, especially if he's eating with them at the end of the week) asks.
"Yep. The Can Do Hero, Deku," Izuku affirms. The teenager nods and gently prods the second
oldest of the children, a boy about eight or nine who's the spitting image of his mother, forward.
"You wanted to talk to him," the oldest sibling coaxes. Her little brother flits about anxiously,
passing a pad of paper between his hands. "He's a hero. Heroes don't bite. Well, some of them do,
but he won't bite you."
Izuku smiles as the young boy walks forward, leaning forward a bit so they can be slightly closer.
"Hi," he says. "What's your name?"
"S-Sami," the boy says, drawing closer to the bed and resting his hands on the rails, paper pad held
between two of his long fingers. "You're a real hero, aren't you?"
"Yep," Izuku agrees. "I am."
"... Can I have your autograph?" Sami's eyes flick back and forth between Izuku and his pen and
paper, never quite looking Izuku in the eye.
"Sure thing." Izuku reaches a hand out and accepts the paper and pen. "How do you spell your
name?" The boy quickly tells him, and Izuku writes out his hero name with practiced ease and
writes a little message to go with it. Sami, it reads, I'm glad I could save you. I'm really glad I could
meet someone else with green hair, too. Remember to eat your vegetables. Plus Ultra! Banned or
not, Izuku would never not live by that famous motto.
"Thank you, Mister Deku," Sami thanks, reaching a hand through the rail of the bed and pats his
leg instead of shaking his hand.
"Just Deku is fine," Izuku insists. Then, an idea occurs. "Hey, do you like heroes?" Sami nods. "I
thought so. Everyone likes heroes. Did you know that there's other heroes in here right now?"
The boy shakes his head. "No." Izuku looks up at his teacher, who looks at him with mixed
expressions of interest and caution.
"Oh, well, there are," Izuku informs. He points right to Aizawa, who sucks in a deep breath and
suddenly looks like he'd much rather be anywhere but here. "He's an amazing hero, and my teacher.
Have you ever heard of Eraserhead?" Sami shakes his head again. "That's okay, not many people
have. He's one of those underground types. I'm sure he'd be happy to give you an autograph, too."
Nedzu always talks about how fascinating weird situations are, but Izuku hasn't realized how true
that could be until right now. He watches, a proud grin on his lips as a nine year old boy walks up
to the Eraserhead and asks for an autograph. And then he actually gets one! Mr. Aizawa doesn't
even try to decline and quickly jots down his hero name before shooting a quick glare at Izuku.
It's totally worth it, though. His friends smile with him, and even All Might cracks a smile. Izuku
looks over at Gran, but his face practically screams don't try it. Some things are better left for a
later occasion, he supposes. And pestering his teacher isn't worth being forced to vomit from
receiving a heel to the gut at mach one.
"I'm back with your water." The nurse from earlier reenters the room, holding a styrofoam cup with
ice and a straw in it in one hand and a clipboard in the other. "It took a while because the ice
machine decided to die. Oh, and the man with the awful tie outside said I need to tell Togata that
his time is up."
"Yeah, that's me," Togata says. "I'll be right out in just a second, Sir!" No sound comes from the
doorway, but Togata doesn't pay it any mind.
"See you later," Izuku waves.
"Later," Togata agrees. He leans down and offers Izuku a one-armed hug, which he returns happily.
Then he stands and hugs Amajiki, who's too embarrassed to return it. Hado gets a simple fist bump,
but she doesn't seem all that affected by it and even laughs a little. The blond boy walks out of the
door with one last wink and a wave, and, of course, a smile.
"Charming," the nurse says, handing Izuku his cup of water. "You'll be out of here pretty soon,"
she continues. "Your school nurse in on the premises and will be here short—"
"I'm here right now." Recovery Girl's aged voice can be heard as she walks in, cane in hand, with a
doctor and Present Mic at her heels. Mic waves at Izuku happily before resuming what can only be
assumed as an attempt at looking like a tough bodyguard. "I'd've been here faster if they didn't hold
me up at the front desk. Kids these days, I swear." She moves up to Izuku and easily climbs on top
of a stool provided by Mic.
"H-hello, ma'am," Izuku greets, already knowing what's to come.
"Don't try to explain yourself to me, I know how it'll sound already. God knows I've heard
everything from one particular idiot. I'm quite fed up with excuses from you heroes." Across the
room, All Might coughs. "Yes, yes, anyways, let me see the damage." Izuku pushes up his gown
again to reveal his injury. Recovery Girl only sighs. "Two bullets, emergency surgery to get the
fragments out. I've seen it a million times. I'll heal you once and the doctor here will cut your
stitches, and then I'll heal you again. If you feel too tired, tell me."
And she does exactly that. A curtain is drawn around his bed for privacy, and the procedure doesn't
hurt at all. It's a little weird feeling bits of thread being pulled out of his skin but not painful in the
slightest, and when everything's done, Izuku is left with a fresh, pink scar.
People start to leave as Izuku gets ready to go home. First is the Asui family, who wave, thank him
again, and make sure that he and his mother know when and where to be Sunday night. Then it's
Aizawa and the rest of the U.A teachers, who tell him to take it easy and that they'll see him soon.
And finally, All Might and Gran leave, the former with a hug and a reminder to be careful and the
latter with a playfully threatening wave of his cane and a reminder to not get too cocky. Izuku is
left with his mother, Hado, and Amajiki, which is almost perfect. If only Togata got to stick around.
"You two are welcome at our apartment," his mother says. "Just tell your parents where you are
and when you'll be back. I won't mind riding with you on the train if you need it."
"Thanks!" Hado smiles. "Ooh, maybe we can have a sleepover! Doesn't that sound great, Amajiki?
Er, if it's okay with Miss Midoriya, anyways."
"We'll have to order takeout," his mother thinks out loud. "But that was going to be dinner
anyways. Just make sure your parents know."
"Great!" Hado says, already typing up a storm on her phone. "I'll text Togata about it. He can
swing by our houses and grab us some stuff so Amajiki and I aren't stuck in hero gear."
It takes less than five minutes to get on a train after that. Izuku's sent home with a plastic bag with
the remains of his hero costume and yet another reminder to get lots of rest. The four of them get
lots of interesting looks on the train, mostly because two of them are in hero costumes, but no one
really seems to care.
"I still can't believe you got Aizawa to sign an autograph," Hado says.
"Me neither," Izuku chuckles. "He'll probably make me regret it later, though."
"Nah, Aizawa likes you. The worst you'll get is a half-hearted glare." Hado looks down at her
phone and quickly types something in.
"That kid probably doesn't know how rare that signature is," Amajiki adds. "I think that might be
Aizawa's first autograph."
"Huh," Izuku looks down at his hands and then back over to his friends. "How much trouble do
you think I'd get in if I stole it?"
“Izuku!” His mother scolds, elbowing him in the ribs.
"Ah, I was only joking, Mom!" Izuku defends. "I don't need an autograph that badly. And it would
be awful of me to steal it since I'm the one who got him it."
"Mm, I dunno," Hado says, a playful smile on her lips. "You might wanna tie him to a pole or
something tonight, otherwise he might sneak out to go steal the thing. There's no telling what he'll
do for an Eraserhead autograph."
"I wouldn't!"
"Oh, I'm sure."
Izuku knows it's pointless to argue with her, but he tries to anyway. Their little debate lasts the
whole way home, much to his mother's amusement. They only stop once the front door of the
apartment swings open.
"Hey, this is a nice place!" Hado immediately makes herself welcome, floating over to and
flopping down on the couch upside down, legs dangling over the back.
"Thank you, dear," his mother replies, taking off her outer jacket and shoes. "Do you guys know
what you want to eat? There's a good selection of delivery services around here, so you don't need
to worry about picking something basic."
"I'm okay with whatever," Amajiki replies, awkwardly standing in front of the closed door.
"Me too," Izuku says, gently grabbing his friend by the arm and leading him further into the
apartment. He makes sure to smile bright as he has Amajiki sit down in an armchair.
"How about Thai?" Hado suggests. "Or maybe Indian. I haven't had those in a while."
"Mirio likes curry," Amajiki adds.
"There's this lovely family-owned Indian place downtown," his mom says, already pulling out her
phone to look up a menu. "I know they deliver. Do you two like spicy stuff? I know Izuku likes a
little but not a lot."
"I'm okay with whatever."
"Not too much, please!"
"I'll get right on that then. Izuku, would you mind showing your friends your room?"
"Yes," Izuku says, fully knowing that there will be no end to the teasing once Hado sees how much
All Might merch he has.
"Too bad!" Hado laughs, getting up and dragging both him and Amajiki down the hallway. She
doesn't even have to ask which room is his because of the sign on the door. Resigned to his fate,
Izuku lets her open the door and step in.
He's toned down a bit on the volume of hero stuff in his room since classes at U.A started, but
that's not saying much. All Might figurines line the shelves, posters hang on the walls, and an All
Might hoodie has been tossed carelessly on his bed. His sheets have been changed to something
more respectable, Izuku having learned his lesson there the hard way.
But there's new stuff, too. A corkboard with pictures of Izuku and his friends sits over a tidy desk
with lots of notebooks on it, and weights rest against a wall. A framed photo of Izuku and All
Might sits on his nightstand, his mentor resting on his shoulders with a bright smile as he
desperately tries to stand.
Hado doesn't say anything as Izuku enters behind her and keeps quiet as Amajiki gently shuts the
door behind him. Then, she turns around and wraps him up in a hug. "We were worried for you.
Really, really worried," she says into his shoulder. Izuku awkwardly returns the embrace, unsure of
what to say.
"I'm sorry?" he tries.
Hado shakes her head. "No, that's not it." She looks up for a brief second. "Tamaki, group hug.
Now." Amajiki complies without a word and seamlessly fits himself in. "We're not mad that you
jumped in front of that family, and I know I would've done the same thing. Being a hero is
dangerous—everyone knows that. But when we heard that you were shot and in the hospital…
well, how would you have felt if it were any one of us instead of you?"
"Scared," Izuku says. "Worried. Panicked. I'd think the worst until I knew what happened, and
even then I wouldn't stop worrying for a while."
"Exactly," Hado says, pulling him in tighter. Izuku's head is gently pressed against Amajiki's, and
he loops an arm around his back. "And we know you're strong, but that won't stop us from being
scared and worried and panicked."
"Hado, I'm sor—"
"I said that wasn't it." She looks up at him, though not a whole lot since Izuku only has a couple of
inches on her. "Don't be sorry for being a hero, Izuku. And don't apologize because we care. And,"
she says, a little less confident than before, "it's first names now, ‘kay? I'm Nejire."
"... I'm sorry?"
"No. Apologies," Hado reprimands, gently poking a finger into his chest. "And, well..."
"It feels wrong to just call you Midoriya after all the worry we had over you," Amajiki whispers.
"And we all trust each other anyway."
"I… okay. I'm fine with that." Izuku sucks in a shallow breath. He's practically nose to nose with
the two of them, and it feels really amazing. He just wishes Mirio was here.
"Good," Nejire smiles, softer than she usually does but not any less happy. "Let's just relax for a
while because we're doing this again when Mirio gets here."
[x]
"I'm going to kill you!" Shigaraki shoves another man up against an earthen wall, one hand
threatening to turn his face to ash. "You had one job! One easy, simple job, and you fucked it all
up!"
The offender, an average-looking Japanese male with a buzz cut, spits in Shigaraki's face. "We
didn't fuck up! There was this freak kid hero there! Four of my men are in jail because of you. If
anyone dies tonight, it's gonna be you!"
Lionel only sighs and turns the page of his Yoruba to Japanese dictionary. Such rarely in-demand
books like it were hardly ever for sale, and when they were, they went for ridiculous amounts of
cash. Luckily, petty crime is well within his ability.
"I. Don't. Care!" Shigaraki's fingers ghost over the man's throat, deathly close to ending his life
right there. "We paid you valuable money to nab some people off the street. I didn't care how, as
long as you met quota. And you fucked it up! Now I'm fifty grand poorer and have nothing to show
for it! You. Owe. Me."
"Like hell I do! You paid in advance, so unless you bust my boys outta jail, you ain't getting a
single cent outta me!"
Shigaraki starts to shake in anger and drops the man. He starts to scratch his neck vigorously,
reopening older scabs. "You won't have to worry about your party members for much longer," he
says, a shaking hand reaching up to pull off his mask.
"Oh yeah?" the other man spits out, gaining some more confidence. "And how do you plan on
that? They're locked up in three different precincts, which are crawling with guards since we broke
in. You've got what? One bit of extra muscle and a cheap-looking bartender?"
Lionel puts down his dictionary and looks over to Kurogiri, who's watching over his charge
carefully. "Oh, I've no intention of breaking into a police station. I'm already at four stars. I don't
need another." Shigaraki slowly approaches the man, hands thrust into his pockets. Lionel knows
that the man they hired is dead at about the same time he does. "Unfortunately for you, we can't
just have people running around telling anyone about our little operation."
A knife comes out, small and sharp. "Back the fuck off," the man orders, waving it in front of him.
Kurogiri raises a single arm and narrows his eyes in concentration. "I'll fucking slit your throat, and
then we'll see how much you talk big."
Shigaraki only chuckles, low and hoarse. He lunges, one hand reaching for the throat, the other for
the stomach. The man slashes with his blade, but his entire arm is encompassed in a portal. All of
Shigaraki's fingers touch his bare skin, and the man turns to dust in moments.
"Was that really necessary?" Lionel asks, looking at the dust on the floor with resigned curiosity. It
could very well be him if he's not careful.
Shigaraki shrugs and kicks at the dust. "No loose ends." He picks up his face hand and puts it back
on. "If I didn't mute him, he'd tip the cops off."
"Good thinking, Tomura," Kurogiri praises him, like he's a mother looking at her son's art project.
"Sensei would be proud."
"Sensei won't be proud unless I get him what he wants." Shigaraki sits down at the table, hands
delicately interlaced. They're the only part of him that's not crusty and flaking with dry skin. "And
with how incompetent the bots on this server are, we'll have to get back on it ourselves."
"And how many of these children does your master want?" Lionel carefully pulls his dictionary
back. Things like it tend to turn to dust around Shigaraki, even when he's in a good mood. Barring
video games and such, of course. "I do want to return to Africa some day."
"Five, maybe a few more depending," Shigaraki grunts.
"Depending on what?" Lionel prods.
"On how successful the trials are," Kurogiri answers. "Sensei is a careful man and would much
rather be overprepared."
"I see," Lionel says, standing. "How soon do you want to go out again?"
"A few days, maybe a week," Shigaraki estimates. "We need to let the aggro die down. We'll let
the cops think we're done and then finish this up in one night if we can."
"And then you'll warp me home," Lionel finishes.
"Yeah, back to Ghana or whatever." Lionel doesn't even dignify that with a response and instead
leaves the room to his sleeping area. Living in a literal den wasn't very fun, but it was only
temporary. He can't wait until he can feel the green grass and the perfect, cool shade on his fur and
paws once more.
Chapter End Notes

This was supposed to go out on, like, Wednesday but my spring break got to be much
busier then I thought. It was still better then going to school all week, though! But
that's not the only reason this one took a while. To be honest, the first draft of it was
utter crap. I usually to a pretty good job of nailing it on the first go and only do some
small edits or maybe switch things around, but I couldn't with this one. I had to scrap
about 5k words because it isn't didn't feel good. It sucks, I know, but I think it's better
to spend a little more time for better quality, and I don't exactly like posting stuff I'm
not proud of.
In other news, naming a chapter is the hardest part, and you can't change my mind.
Seriously, it takes way too much brain power and half the time I don't even come up
with a goon one. I wish I went with the basic number format because it would be way
easier, but I know that when I read fics, I like knowing where to go back to if I want to
read a certain scene again, so I'm giving you guys the same thing.
I should be posting the usual amount next week, but then again I am starting up my
spring sport again, so maybe not? Anyways, I hope you enjoyed. Cheers!
Chance at a Million
Chapter Notes
As of April 30, 2021 this chapter has been edited and reformated by nth beta, flauel.
Mercifully, there's no alarm clock. Unmercifully, there's hair. Lots and lots of hair.
Having learned his lesson, Izuku brushes it away from his face and double-checks that there's none
left. Then and only then does he open his eyes and yawn. It's early. Sunlight is just barely peeking
through the living room curtains and does little to brighten the room, but that does little to hide the
fact that blue hair is spread far, concentrated in a large mass of knots and frizz that looks
uncomfortable. But Nejire sleeps on, not bothered in the slightest.
It's kind of amusing, and Izuku sits up with a smile. Or tries to. Something tightens on his arm,
which is covered by a light blanket. He tries to shimmy away, but the grip only tightens. Trying to
use his other arm only leads to the discovery that it's pinned under Tamaki, who's sleeping on his
side and facing away. Izuku sighs and very gently pulls his arm out from under his friend. Tamaki
shuffles a bit, but his breathing remains even and relaxed. Then, Izuku moves the blanket away.
It's Nejire holding on to his arm, and she only pulls in closer at the loss of the blanket. For a
moment, all Izuku can do is stare. She's got a really good grip on him, with her arms wrapped
around his, pinning it to her body with her chin touching his shoulder, supported by a pillow. He
can't pull it away without disturbing her, and even if it's a school day, he doesn't want to wake
Nejire up.
So, very carefully, he rolls onto his side, facing her and pushing upwards with his feet. His arm
starts to slip away, but Nejire holds fast, grabbing on to his forearm instead of his bicep. Izuku
bites the inside of his cheek and reaches with his free hand. One by one, he moves each of her
fingers, making sure she never stirs. The first hand lets go and then the second. Izuku stands and
gently returns the blanket, watching in satisfaction as she pulls it around herself with a happy sigh.
A quick glance at the kitchen tells that it's five fifteen. There's still time to go for a quick jog and
get his workout routine in before school. Actually, is he even supposed to go today? Aizawa didn't
say anything, which technically means yes, right? Opening the fridge and grabbing a water bottle,
Izuku decides to think about it later.
He quickly gets ready for his run, downing the water for some hydration and changing from an old
t-shirt and shorts to a green tank top and a pair of track pants. He splashes some cool water on his
face, makes sure that his bedhead isn't too awful, and heads for the door. He doesn't even make it
past the living room before jumping out of his skin.
"Good morning!" someone whispers from right below him. Izuku trips and knocks over a vase on
an end table, barely managing to save it and himself from hitting the floor with Blackwhip. In the
back of his mind, One for All laughs and calls him an idiot.
"Mirio!" Izuku hisses, glaring halfheartedly at his friend, who's still stuck in the floor. "You'll wake
everyone up."
"They're both heavy sleepers and your mom's in the other room," Mirio points out before sinking
into the floor completely. Izuku really doesn't want to think about whether or not the floor below
them gets a glance at anything indecent, but he does anyway. "No one else will be up for a while,"
he finishes, surfacing and walking over to his clothes. Izuku doesn't even bat an eye at his
nakedness. Spending a week seeing someone in the nude is a really good way of becoming
desensitized to it.
"We should still be careful," Izuku sighs, looking away as he changes. Respecting someone's
privacy and being comfortable when they're naked aren't mutually exclusive. "I don't want to make
them lose sleep."
"Yeah, I get it. You can look now," Mirio says. Izuku stops staring at a wall and watches as his
friend pulls a shirt over himself. "Where are you headed?"
"A quick jog, then I'll hit the gym," Izuku replies, walking over to his shoes and slipping them on.
"I don't feel any more tired than usual which means Recovery Girl's Quirk didn't take a whole lot
out of me. And it's just part of my routine, so…"
"Gotcha." Mirio nods, joining him by the door. "Mind if I join you? I missed out on my weight
training yesterday—paperwork and all that, you know?"
"Um, sure," Izuku agrees. "I don't know if we'll be able to do everything we want in time, though.
There's only one rack at my gym. It's leg day for me. What about you?"
"Arms and chest." Mirio bends down to put on his sneakers. "I'll be okay without a rack for the
most part. Just a bench will do. Ready?"
"Yeah. Let's go."
Izuku leads; Mirio follows. They take an abridged version of Izuku's normal route, running through
the main street of the area but not the side areas or any less-traveled roads. People smile and wave
at them as they go, used to seeing Izuku this early in the morning. Mirio gets a few odd looks, but
he takes it in stride, waving back with his trademark smile.
After a while, Izuku takes a sharp turn into a side street and heads right for the gym. He picks up
the pace, going from a light jog to a quick run. Mirio copies him, but his longer legs make him just
a touch faster, so Izuku speeds up again. The process repeats, and by the time they get to the gym,
they're both sprinting.
"This the place?" Mirio asks, following him up the steps.
"Yep." Izuku pulls out a key and quickly unlocks the door. With a flick of his hand, the lights turn
on. "Not the prettiest place, I know, but it's got everything I need to keep in shape."
"No, no, it's great." Mirio makes himself right at home and walks over to a rack of dumbbells. He
picks up a fifty-pounder and curls it like it's nothing. "I'm guessing you didn't buy this place? Or
maybe you did, since your first paycheck for your work study had to have been big."
"I haven't even gotten that yet," Izuku chuckles, walking over to a rack and pulling out the bench.
He moves the bar up for squats and adds a few plates. "They sent me an email. Apparently my
performance has to be evaluated by more people before I get paid. I won't see a dime until the end
of the month. All of this is from my… sponsor is the best word for Mr. Yagi I guess."
"The skinny guy in the suit, right?" Mirio asks, taking up residence on the bench with a pair of
heavy dumbbells. Izuku nods. "Sir knows him. I just don't know how. I think there's some bad
history between them, and you say they're not exes." He laughs a bit. "Do you know anything
about it?"
"A little," Izuku admits, trying to think of a way to explain it truthfully without giving away too
much. He steps under the bar and pushes up, taking a step forward and setting his feet. He squats
down. "They used to work together. Yagi says that they were close, but for whatever reason, they
went their separate ways. I could try asking if you'd like." Izuku's curious about it, too. No one
knows why All Might and Sir Nighteye stopped working together, but now that he thinks about it,
they split around the time All Might got his injury. Maybe that has something to do with it?
"Nah, I'm good," Mirio insists. "There's no reason for us to invade their privacy, you know?
There's some bad blood there, sure, but it's not like they see each other often, so they'll be fine on
their own. It would be cool to help them work it out, though."
"Yeah."
They mostly lift in silence after that, the only sounds in the buildings their breathing, the hum of
electricity, and the occasional clang of weights hitting the floor or a rack. They both finish up at
the same time and sit down for a quick breather. Izuku gets them some energy drinks from the
fridge All Might installed a while back and plops down at Mirio's side against the wall.
"Do Tamaki and Nejire workout too?" Izuku asks.
"Oh yeah, just during school," Mirio answers, wiping his sweaty forehead with the back of his
hand. "Three times a week for about an hour. Mostly to maintain their physique—they don't want
to build a lot more muscle like we do. They focus a lot more on cardio and stuff."
"Yeah, I figured." Izuku nods. "They can use their powerful Quirks at full blast without hurting
themselves. They're not like me or… actually, why do you workout a lot? Your Quirk's good on its
own; you don't need a lot of extra muscle to make it work."
"That's the thing. It isn't." Mirio sighs, and his shoulders droop ever so slightly. "Permeation is
weak. No big attacks, no superspeed—nothing, really. I've gotta come up with new stuff all the
time to get stronger. And even then, there's a limit to how much damage I can do. So I put in a lot
of hours at the gym. If I can only hit people as hard as I can punch, then I gotta be able to punch
really hard. It's just a side effect of my power."
"Your Quirk is amazing, and anyone who thought about it logically would want it in a heartbeat,"
Izuku says, drawing up his legs to his chest. Mirio opens his mouth to disagree, but Izuku talks
right over him. "No, really. I could hit you with everything I had, and it would pass right through.
Any and every attack you see, you can render useless. Detroit Smash? Jet Burn? One of my Air
Forces? They'll pass right through. I can almost guarantee that anyone you come across and fight
would lose if they don't know your Quirk. Even among Pros, Permeation is really powerful. The
only two I can think of off the top of my head who would beat you easily are Best Jeanist and All
Might."
Mirio forces out a chuckle. "That's not a funny joke, man."
"I'm not joking," Izuku says, standing up. "Yeah, it’s got its drawbacks, but name one person who
could beat you in a straight fight, other than the two I listed."
"You, Nejire, and Tamaki do it all the time," Mirio says, looking down at the floor.
"We've all fought each other for hours a day for months. We all know how each of us think. Most
people won't know your weaknesses and style like we do. Try again."
"Sir Nighteye—"
"Same thing. You said he's the one who really taught you how to fight, right?" Mirio nods.
"Exactly. That's like me trying to fight against Gran or Aizawa. I'm not going to win because they
made me the hero I am."
"That doesn't change the fact that my Quirk is weak. I know I'm strong, and maybe I can take on a
top pro. But that's only because I've put in hours of work." Mirio looks up at Izuku, his eyes tired.
"Anyone could've done that. It's not a special thing. Any Quirk can be used in weird ways to make
up for its weaknesses."
"That's a lie," Izuku says firmly. "That. Is. A. Lie. My mother can pull small objects to herself. The
upper limit is a few kilos, and yeah, it comes in hand a lot and I'm sure someone would work with
it and make it usable in the hero scene. But even if my mother put in hundreds of hours into
mastering her Quirk when she was young, she'd never be able to be a fraction of the hero you are.
And you're really overestimating how lazy people are. I didn't even start working out or doing
combat training until Yagi found me." Izuku lets a bit of bitterness at his younger self seep into his
last words, but Mirio doesn't seem to notice.
"Okay, but—"
"How many sidekicks does Sir Nighteye have?"
"Two."
"And what are their Quirks?"
"One makes bubbles that smell like different things, and the other is a centipede mutant that can
extend his limbs."
"Out of those two, Sir, and you, who's the strongest?"
"Sir Nighteye."
"Is his Quirk weak or strong?"
"Strong."
"Is it?" Izuku cocks his head. "Think about this for a second. He's pretty secretive about it, but I
was a really big All Might fan. Still am, obviously, but I did a lot of research on the man's only
sidekick. Foresight can be used once a day for a fixed amount of time, under three hours." Mirio's
eyes widen in surprise.
"How did you figure that out?"
"The statements of older hero and villain encounters are publicly available online. It was difficult,
but I managed to piece it together after a couple of months of research. But that's not the point."
Izuku gets back on track. "Foresight can't be used all the time, which means Sir Nighteye fights
without a Quirk a lot. He's pretty strong without his power, but could he really stand up to someone
like you or me without his Quirk? Maybe for a little while, but not indefinitely.
"Foresight is a weak Quirk from a combat standpoint. Sure, you know what's going to happen to
you, and with some training you could probably figure out the whole day's events and use that to
your advantage. But what good is that if you forget and can't use it anymore? The man that teaches
you isn't as strong as you think."
"Okay, so? Sir can still use Foresight for much longer than a normal fight lasts. I've never once
seen him lose. It's the skill and hard work that makes him amazing, too. He doesn't even use his
Quirk half the time. The hero makes the Quirk, not the other way around."
"I agree," Izuku admits. "But All Might couldn't be what he is if he didn't have all of that raw
power, and it's the same for you. Your Quirk is difficult to use, I know, but think of all the amazing
things you've done with it, and then realize that you've only had it for thirteen years, and only one
and a half of that counts as real training."
"I don't know." Mirio leans back and looks at the ceiling, his head knocking on the wall. "I still
think all the work I've put in—"
"Oh, believe me, it's definitely the hard work." Izuku smiles. "Give a random person your Quirk
and they wouldn't use it right. I'm not saying you shouldn't be proud of how much you've put into
this, because you should be. What I'm saying is that the ability to phase through matter, any form
of it, without feeling a thing, is one of the best powers out there. No wall can stop you, no bunker
can stay safe, no shield will block your hits, and no attack can harm you for as long as you can hold
your breath. Think of what that means! Think of all the amazing things you can do because of
Permeation. Respect yourself, Mirio, and your power. You both deserve more than what you think
now."
"I… I don't… I…" Mirio's mouth moves, but he struggles to get words out. Izuku offers a hand and
hauls the boy to his feet. Then, he hugs him.
"You're amazing. Your Quirk is amazing. Never forget that. Ever."
"Okay…"
They get back to the apartment with barely any time to spare. Showers are taken at light speed, and
uniforms are put half on as breakfast is shoveled into their mouths. They just barely make it to the
train. Nejire and Tamaki, who both had enough time for their morning routines, laugh and smile at
Izuku and Mirio as they tie ties and push hair into place. Once they get past the gates, they go their
separate ways, Izuku to Nedzu's office and the other three to homeroom.
"Good morning, sir," Izuku greets, taking his usual seat.
"Good morning, Midoriya," Nedzu says, stamping a piece of paper and pushing it to the side.
Izuku catches a glimpse of the word Rejected in bold red before it's covered up by another sheet. "I
take it you're all healed up?"
"Mmhm." Izuku nods, touching his hand to where his scar is. "The healing didn't even take that
much out of me. I'm glad I could come here today."
"Good, good." Nedzu stamps a few more papers before neatly putting them in a folder. Then he
turns his attention to Izuku. "Have you checked your social media recently?"
"Not since before I was in the hospital," Izuku says. "I was just so busy since I had friends over for
the night."
"That's perfectly understandable, but you should definitely take a look right now. Have you been
posting more or less daily?"
"Uh, yeah. I forget sometimes but usually say something." Izuku pulls his phone out of his pocket
and opens Twitter, which he's permanently turned the notifications off for. "Usually about other
heroes and stuff, but I've posted a few workout videos too. Those are really popular for some
reason, and—that's a lot of tweets." Nedzu laughs at his reaction, grabbing a mug of tea and
moving to sit down next to him on the couch.
"Yes, being shot is a big deal," the principal says. "Word got out that you're fine but not much else.
I'd post something now if I were you. Have you put any more thought into your merchandise
idea?"
"Just about making sure everything is ethical and transparent." Izuku closes Twitter and opens his
camera. "And maybe making the price freewill? Like, let's say the minimum donation is a hundred
yen. If expenses are fifty yen, then the smallest amount you can pay is a hundred and fifty, but if
you want, you can pay a lot more. Oh, and adding the option to donate money without having to
make a purchase should be there, too."
"Both are excellent points, and you'll be happy to know that I've been having some conversations
with manufacturers and charities. They're all willing to work with you."
"That's great!" Izuku smiles wide. "How soon will we be able to start selling?"
"Slow down, we're not quite there yet." Nedzu chuckles. "We need to design the items, get in
contact with the heroes we want to be on the stuff we sell, and make sure there's a market for it."
"A market for it?" Izuku asks.
"Yes. Things won't sell if they're not in demand," Nedzu explains. "We need to make sure that
people will buy what we sell before we make it. In the corporate world, focus groups are used for
this. But they're woefully inaccurate at times and take too much time to organize."
"Then what can we do instead?"
"There's a feature right there on your phone that'll give us solid feedback for free and in a matter of
hours." Nedzu gently taps Izuku's phone with his paw, opening Twitter. "A poll made by you is the
perfect way of doing this!"
Image: Izuku stands in front of the camera, wearing the slacks to his UA uniform and a plain white
tee. The shirt is hiked up a bit to show a long, pink scar on his stomach. He's smiling awkwardly
and holding up a peace sign.
Hey guys, thanks for all the support and well wishes after yesterday afternoon. Getting shot isn't
fun, but knowing people care about me brings a smile to my face anyways. I made a full recovery
and will be back out on patrol soon! Also stay tuned for a special announcement!
Hi. It's come to my attention that a lot of homeless shelters, soup kitchens, rec centers, and
orphanages are underfunded. I'm not the type to sit around and do nothing when people need help,
so I came up with an idea to help. Hero merchandise! A lot of us buy it already and really enjoy it,
but the profits go right back into the companies 1/4
and not to the heroes or to helping people. But with some help from my principal, I've found a way
to change that! A lot of smaller time pros don't have merch lines, meaning that we can use their
likeness without paying royalties to a corporation. I know a lot of UA alumni would be happy to be
on a shirt or a hat or a hoodie, and better yet: 2/4
All of the profits will go to the places I listed above! You'd be able to buy merch of underrated
heroes while contributing to a good cause, and there'd be no set donation amount, so if you want to
give 10 yen or 1000 yen, you can do so! Please vote in the poll below and tell me whether or not
you'd be interested. 3/4
Poll: 1. I would buy a piece of hero merch if all of the profits went to charity. 2. I wouldn't buy a
piece of hero merch if all the profits went to charity. 3. I'd donate, but I don't need anything in
return. 4/4
"So what now?"
"We wait."
It sounds a lot more dramatic than it actually is. Instead of hovering over his phone for hours,
Izuku turns it off, puts it in his pocket, and heads out the door. He has a free period after seeing
Nedzu on some days, and this is one of them. But unlike other free periods, he doesn't intend to
spend this one doing homework.
Izuku walks by the desks of the U.A teachers, gazing over the cubicles and offering a hello to
whoever he sees. Then, he finds the teacher he's looking for. Politely, he knocks on the wall of
their cubicle, drawing their attention.
"Aizawa said you could help me learn about guns?"
[x]
His phone vibrates, and right as he's about to drift off, too. Grimacing, Aizawa reaches a hand into
his pants pocket and pulls out his phone. He hits accept and presses it to the side of his face. "This
is Eraserhead. Talk."
"One of the guys Midoriya arrested talked. From the second group of gunmen, not the first."
Aizawa's tiredness instantly dissipates at the sound of the detective's voice.
"What did he say?"
"They were hired by a third party. The man didn't know much, but the game plan was to shoot a
couple families and make off with the children. They were paid in cash and chosen because they
were the same group that broke into the station a while back."
"Anything else?" Aizawa sits up in his sleeping bag. "Any descriptions? Points of interest? A
motive?"
"The gunmen are low-level thugs and part of a small wannabe gang. Apparently, they're only hired
out so the leader can make some spare change. No motive, and no one but the head met face-to-
face with their employers." The detective sighs heavily. "There's nothing that connects them to the
mass kidnapping; it's just not that group's MO. But the fact that they were told to take the children
to a meeting place to talk with the ones who hired them, a meeting place that's one of the points of
interest I showed you…"
"Then it's plausible that this group of six could grow into a whole ring of child traffickers," Aizawa
finishes. "We have to get a lid on this thing, and fast. Have you arranged for help from other
agencies yet?"
"A few. Most won't be able to help until we can put together a raid, though."
"Nighteye Agency owes me a favor," Aizawa recalls. "I could probably get that old prankster to
lend us a hand."
The detective stays silent for a moment, pondering. "Maybe," he settles on. "They're good but don't
have a lot of numbers. Three more people doing their own investigations won't add much, but I'll
take what I can get. But… don't they have their own case right now?"
"Drug smuggling," Aizawa confirms. "Heroin and amphetamines mostly; the real nasty stuff. I'm
not sure how willing he'd be to drop it, since it's time-sensitive, but if I call in the favor, he'll stop
everything and make our case his main focus."
"Call in the favor," the detective agrees. "Nighteye has probably had an eye on this thing since the
beginning, so there's probably no need for an in-depth briefing. And they'll be a great help on the
raid."
"If there is one," Aizawa says morbidly. He's not often one for pessimism, but when fifty kids have
been taken with barely any progress made in the investigation, it's illogical to ignore the possibility
of the worst outcome. "I'll contact Nighteye later in the day. I have teaching duties to attend to right
now. I'll let you know about his answer."
"Thanks, Eraser. Take care."
The line goes dead, and Aizawa slips his phone into his pocket again. He sits there, staring at a
wall. He can feel the exhaustion in his muscles. He really needs some sleep. Maybe Nighteye
joining in would help give him some free time, though he doubts it.
Unzipping his sleeping bag because he really does have a lesson to teach, Aizawa prepares for the
usual cheerful greeting Midoriya gives when he walks into class. But it never comes, not even
when the bell rings. It's a little odd, but there could be some pressing assignments from other
teachers he's doing. Aizawa waits a few more minutes patiently. After five, he walks out of the
door.
There are a few places Midoriya uses in his free time. The library is one, mostly to skim through
some of the rarer volumes they have stored in there. Study rooms are places he frequents too,
mostly to plan out projects. But he's not in either of those, which leaves one place. The sparring
areas.
Aizawa makes his way across campus, ignoring everyone who crosses his path. He enters the first
sparring hall and walks through, looking into the many rooms for green hair and a gym uniform.
He doesn't find him and moves on to the next one. There's nothing there either. He goes through
two more before running out of buildings to check. Except for one: The range.
Aizawa had told Midoriya about seeing Snipe not even twenty-four hours ago, and chances are that
he's already working on it. Really, it should've been obvious. The boy is motivated like so few are.
Aizawa opens the door of the firing range and is met with the sound of gunfire. He grabs a pair of
earmuffs by the entrance and slips them on. Expecting to see Snipe showing off his skills, he has to
blink twice when he looks at the firing position. He does not see Snipe shooting the stem off an
apple at a hundred meters but rather Midoriya, holding a pistol and shooting a target. A target that
already has several holes in it impressively close to the center.
Walking down to the shooting area, Aizawa makes sure his steps are almost completely silent. He
slinks behind the two of them, carefully avoiding their peripheral vision. He waits until the gun is
safely out of Midoriya's hand to say anything.
"You're late for class."
Snipe jumps, reaching for his holster while shielding Midoriya from view. "Oh. It's just you."
Aizawa raises an eyebrow, not quite able to see Snipe's expression through the gas mask he always
wears.
"Sorry, Mr. Aizawa!" Midoriya apologizes, pulling off his earmuffs. "I lost track of time. We can
go now if you'd like."
"No. I'd like to have a word with Snipe here quick," Aizawa says, making the man shift
uncomfortably. "It was smart of you to ask him about guns; I just need to make sure I know exactly
what he taught you." Aizawa turns on his heel, Snipe following behind, a little unsteady.
"So, uh, how's it hanging?" he asks, his fake Southern American accent disappearing.
"You gave Midoriya a gun," Aizawa says simply, stopping far enough away from his student that
they won't be overheard.
"Yeah, I did," Snipe says, unabashed. "I dunno why you're so worked up about it, though. The kid
wanted to know how they worked, and so I showed him."
"You gave Midoriya a gun," Aizawa repeats.
"I—"
"Midoriya. Nedzu's personal student, who's undergone more intensive training than some third
years, who can already apprehend multiple villains at once. You gave him a gun."
"It's not that bad," Snipe tries. "I taught him how to fight against them first, but you can't just give
one side of the encounter, so I gave him a prop for him to hold on to, but that wasn't enough, and
we ended up down here, shooting twenty-twos."
"You're having him shoot live ammunition."
"Just a twenty-two," Snipe defends. "And you gotta get him used to the real deal, y'know? Can't
just give a kid a toy with no batteries."
"The number one Problem Child now knows how to shoot guns," Aizawa sighs tiredly.
"It's not so bad. Guns get a bad rep, but they're damn handy. I've captured lots of villains with them,
and—"
"Get out."
"You got it."
Coffee. Lots and lots of coffee. And naps, too. Really long ones. Aizawa really hopes Nighteye
comes through for the case. Otherwise, he's going to be dead on his feet in a matter of days.
[x]
"Hey. I'm sorry I haven't been down here for a while. I know that it sounds like a lame excuse, but
I've been really busy. There's this whole project I've been working on at school, and patrols, and I
was in the hospital Monday, so…"
Iron bars obscure his view, but Izuku can still tell what he's looking at. Chance lays on their bed,
curled up in their hoodie. They were given some new clothes to wear as their stay drew longer, but
they never took off the hoodie.
"Why were you in the hospital?" Chance asks, not looking at him. Izuku doesn't mind. He broke a
promise after all, and they have the right to be mad.
"I was shot," Izuku says bluntly. "I took two bullets to the stomach and had to have surgery."
"Really." It's more of a statement or a warning, like they don't believe Izuku's story. That's fine. He
has some proof he's willing to show.
Standing, he pulls up his shirt. He walks forward, scar exposed. "Right here." He taps his stomach
even though Chance still isn't looking at him. But after a few seconds, they do look at him, turning
a little to catch a look.
"I bet you cried."
"No, but I was scared." Izuku lets the hem of his shirt fall and leans against the bars. "The ride to
the hospital was rough, but an EMT kept me awake and alert the whole way. I wish I could've
thanked them, but they ran off too quickly after we arrived."
"Why the hell were you shot? Guns aren't really a thing anymore." They tilt their head from side to
side, reconsidering their words. "They ain't that common, anyways."
"The guns were stolen," Izuku explains. "Everyone was really surprised when they turned up—it
was the same as the night I met you. And they were about to hurt people, and I stepped in front of
them."
"Were they shooting at your girlfriend or something?" Chance leans back against the wall, hood
pulled tight against their head. "Or was it your mom?"
"Nope. I didn't know them," Izuku says. "Well, I do now. I'm going to eat dinner with them in a
few hours, actually. But at the time, they were total strangers."
"... You took a bullet for people you didn't even know?"
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Because I knew that it was going to be them or me, and I don't think I could live with myself if I
chose them to take the bullets."
"You…" they trail off, breathing heavily. It takes Izuku a while to realize that they're crying.
He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a ring of keys. He unlocks the cell and steps in, slowly
sitting down beside them. He rests a hand on their shoulder, and they latch on to him in a tight hug.
They sob, good and loud. He lets them, running a hand through their hair and down their back.
They try to get a sentence out, maybe to tell their story, maybe to thank him. But he gently shushes
them and has them cry everything out.
"You're safe now," he says. "I am here."
Chapter End Notes

Fluff and feels, fluff and feels. Gotta make your readers feel safe before shit hits the
fan, right? Nah, I'm kidding. The fluff and feels will continue into next chapter. Except
for Aizawa, because that man can't catch a break. Really, next arc I'm going to make
sure gets lots of naps because he deserves it.
Most of you are interested in what I'm going to do with Nighteye and the Asuis. I have
plans for both, if they're good or not can only be determined by you readers. I think
that's about it. I usually have more to say, but it's late right now. Night everyone.
Cheers!
Between a Frog and a Hard Place
Chapter Notes
TW: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Injury, and Psychological Torture, along with
Minor Character Death. Starts at, ""Oh?" Shigaraki leans forward, a single finger
reaching up and scratching his neck." and goes to the end of the chapter. It will be
made bold for ease of skipping.
As of May 17, 2021 this chapter has been edited and reformated by my beta, flauel.
Dressing nice sucks. Okay, maybe not, but it's definitely not fun. Izuku's a sweatpants and t-shirt
kind of guy, and even the U.A uniform doesn't feel quite right on him. He likes to move and feel
free, so waistcoats and dress shoes aren't his thing. But his mother has the final say, so he dresses
up in khakis and a light blue button-down. It's tight on him, even though the tailor (and they can
afford tailored clothes now; investing the check from the Hero Commission is already paying off)
had spent a while making sure it actually fit. He's pretty sure he could flex the thing off, which
would be funny but also a great way to get yelled at, so he refrains.
His hair is awful, too. Somehow, through dark magic and mass amounts of hairspray, his mom had
managed to tame it, styling it flat and making sure none of it touches his face. He hates it. The way
the hairspray makes his hair stiff feels wrong, and the familiar sensation of it brushing against the
top of his neck or his forehead is missing completely.
"Izuku, sweetie, either stop touching your hair or mess it up again. You can't go halfway on it," his
mother says, pushing his hand away from his head. The train jostles, and Izuku rakes all of his
fingers through his once curly locks.
"I'd rather have it look like normal," he says, rapidly moving his hands back and forth to loosen
everything back up. "Making it behave makes it look bad."
"And who told you that?" his mother asks, checking her own hair in the mirror. There wasn't
anything that suggested dinner was going to be a fancy affair, but that wouldn't stop her from trying
to look perfect. Not that Izuku could blame her; they rarely got the chance to look nice.
"Well, my friends all like it," he remembers. "And Nejire says it matches my style."
"Mmkay." His mom smiles. She looks at him oddly, smiling a bit and raising an eyebrow. "I'm
sure Hado knows best."
The rest of the train ride passes by quickly. It's not a long ride to the station closest to the Asuis’
house, but they do have to change trains once. A couple people recognize Izuku and wave at him,
which is such a foreign experience and completely unexpected. He ends up looking behind him to
make sure the people are actually greeting him, which makes his mother laugh and his cheeks go
pink. Luckily no one tries to come up and talk to him. Izuku's not sure what he would do if they
did. Probably freeze up or babble on about nonsense for an hour.
The Asui home is large and old-looking. The paint is faded and the yard has clearly seen better
days. Two stories and an attic overlook the street below, standing out among the single-story flats
that make up the rest of the neighborhood. With three kids, it makes sense that not everything
would be in perfect condition, so Izuku doesn't see a problem with it.
His mother leads him up the front steps and rings the doorbell. She steps back from the door and
waits patiently, turning to straighten Izuku's collar and make sure her necklace is even. There's the
sound of quick footsteps, and the door swings open to reveal the oldest of the Asui children, Tsuyu.
"You're early," she says blankly. It's weird being around people who aren't super expressive. Izuku
blames all the time he's spent with Nejire and Mirio for getting him used to big smiles and lots of
emoting.
"The trains were a bit fast. I'm sorry if you're not ready for us," his mom replies.
"No, it's okay." Tsuyu steps back and opens the door a bit more. "You'll just have to wait a bit
longer for dinner, is all. Come in. Ribbit."
Izuku steps inside behind his mother and quickly slips off his shoes. The entryway opens right into
the living room, which has an older model TV tuned to a rerun of a movie, two couches and an
armchair, and a half-finished lego set.
"Tsu, is that them?" a young voice asks. Sami walks out of the opening that leads deeper into the
house. Izuku can't tell if it's to the kitchen or the hallway. "Mom and Dad want to say hi."
"Hey there, Sami," Izuku says, walking into the living room. The boy meets him halfway and
timidly reaches out with both arms. "It's good to see you again." Izuku gently ruffles his hair and
kneels down and gives a quick hug, which the boy returns. "Where's your little sister?"
"Downstairs playing," Sami says, pulling away. "Would you like to go down?"
"Um, sure," Izuku agrees, looking over to his mother and Tsuyu to make sure it's okay. "What kind
of stuff do you have down there?"
Lego. Lots and lots of lego of all kinds. Sami, or maybe Satsuki, clearly has a favorite toy. There's
a large card table in the middle of the room, with a miniature city on top. A few plastic drawers
line one wall, neatly marked and sorted by color. Pieces litter the floor, some in half-made
structures, most on their own. Izuku nearly steps on one but is saved by quick reflexes. Satsuki sits
under the card table, happily pushing toy cars and trucks around, occasionally running them into
each other and giggling every time a piece breaks off.
"Did you ever play with legos?" Tsuyu asks from behind him. Izuku would've jumped at how
sudden she spoke if he wasn't used to Aizawa's sneak attacks.
"Not a lot. I was more of an action figure guy," Izuku says, leaning down and picking up a
minifigure of a firefighter. Up ahead, Sami joins his sister under the table and plays along with her
little demolition derby. "I did have a couple sets, though. Mostly cars and stuff my toy heroes could
use to fight with or things they could save."
"My dad is the one who buys them mostly," Tsuyu says, pointing one long finger to a glass case in
the corner of the room. Inside is a beautiful sculpture of a triangular prism, about four feet tall. A
line of clear bricks goes in one side, and a rainbow of colors comes out the other, somehow
blending into each other perfectly despite the fact that everything is square or rectangular. "It's his
hobby, but he lets us play with them a lot."
"That's nice of him." Izuku takes a closer look around the room. There are a few more lego
sculptures on shelves and a lot more toys on the floor. A doll here, an action figure there—all of it
reminds Izuku of how his room used to look. There's also a low couch against the far wall, which
has cup holders and a few dark stains. But what confuses him are the beds.
Three mattresses, each smaller than the last, take up a quarter of the floor. Bedsheets are carefully
tucked under them, though a few lumps in the middle give away that they were made in a hurry.
Baskets of clothes sit beside them, along with backpacks.
"Mom and Dad are worried because of the kidnappings," Tsysu says, seeing his line of sight.
"They can't come home early enough to be with us right when we get off school, and the children
taken are usually in their bedrooms, so they moved us down here."
"That's really smart of them." Izuku nods. "My homeroom teacher is on that case, and they're
working night and day to make sure they lock those people up and return the children safely. But
until the people doing it are in jail, you should sleep down here."
"Do you know anything about it?" Tsuyu asks. "The news isn't saying a lot, and Mom gets really
nervous when she doesn't know things like that."
"It's several villains working together," Izuku says seriously. "I'm not sure how many have been
kidnapped, but it's a lot. They don't know the motive, but they are getting more heroes to help out."
"Thank you," Tsuyu says. "Would you like to play with them?"
"Of course!"
The serious and slightly scary conversation they had does little to dampen their fun. Izuku helps
Sami and Satsuki build a few towers and breaks apart bricks that are stuck together. He builds a
miniature All Might out of bricks; the final product isn't perfect or very detailed, but you can tell
who it's supposed to be and that's all he cares about. Tsuyu plays too, mostly making sure no
pieces go missing and helping her younger siblings with smaller bits that they can't quite get right.
After about a half-hour, they're called up to eat dinner. Izuku lets the Asuis go up first, unsure of
where exactly the dining room is. He follows the three siblings through the living room and
through the door Sami walked out of earlier. Inside is the kitchen, which smells strongly of freshly
made food. A pot of soup sits on the stove, and a basket of fruit rests on the kitchen table. But the
dining room is through yet another doorway, and only after walking through that does Izuku sit
down beside his mother.
The dining room is well-lit and cozy, with a large round table under a simple chandelier. Plates of
food are arranged on the table, some portions smaller than others. Izuku feels a little embarrassed
when he sees that his is the largest there, but he ignores it and takes a sip of water. His mother and
Asui Beru talk happily across from each other, mostly about their jobs. Ganma sits stoically at the
seat furthest from the door, back to a window. He nods politely at Izuku but returns to his relaxed
position, staring at his hands which rest on the table. The Asui children sit last, Tsuyu to his right
and Satsuki and Sami on either side of their mother.
Dinner is beef soup with udon noodles. There are sides too, fruit and roasted vegetables seasoned
to perfection. Warm tea is served in chipped mugs along with cups of water, and Izuku happily
takes in the amazing smells. He waits patiently for people to start eating, but finds himself
confused when he sees everyone looking at him.
His mother gently elbows him, "The guest eats first, honey."
"Oh!" Izuku says, reaching for his chopsticks and carefully gathering some noodles. He takes a
small bite and lets out a small hum of enjoyment. "It's really good," he says after swallowing.
"Whoever cooked should be really happy with their work."
"Thank you, son," Ganma says, picking up his mug of tea which has paintings of frogs and flies on
it that were clearly done by someone young. "We all pitched in. Even Sami cut the veggies and
Satsuki helped Beru make tea."
"How nice of them," his mother replies. "I'm glad I got Izuku to help me around the kitchen when
he was little. It's really paid off. It makes meal prep go way faster, and he can mostly watch over
himself."
"Yes, Tsuyu is quite the cook herself." Beru smiles. "It's a good thing too, otherwise Sami and
Satsuki would have nothing to eat."
"I can make myself food," Sami says confidently. "I made a sandwich yesterday after school. And
I made Tsuki one!"
"He had to climb on the counter to reach the bread," Tsuyu says, blunt but with a light teasing tone
to it. "It was quite the spectacle."
"You have to use a chair to reach the top shelf," Sami points out. "You're only a little taller than
me."
"Yes, but it still counts."
Izuku smiles into his sip of tea, which is a touch too weak for what he's used to. It's Nedzu's
influence at work; everyone at U.A knows he likes his drinks strong and hot. "This is really good,
Satsuki," Izuku compliments regardless because it is good tea; he's just used to the strong bitter
black his teacher makes. "What kind is it?"
"Oolong," Satsuki says, poking her food, which has been carefully cut up into smaller bites. "I
added the leaves and waited for the kettle to steam."
"She did a good job of that," Beru says, a happy ribbit following her words. "Satsuki is quite
patient for her age."
"Izuku wasn't at six." His mother chuckles. "It was always go go go with him. It still is, really. He
nearly gives me a heart attack every other week."
"I'm not that bad, Mom," Izuku says bashfully because he's totally not, even if he's been shot,
carried two ambulances to the hospital, held up a building, led his friends to victory against
Shiketsu, and… okay, maybe he is that bad.
"Speaking of hero stuff," Ganma speaks up. It's hard to tell what he's thinking, but Izuku can
definitely tell that he is thinking about something quite intensely. "Tsu is interested in applying to a
couple schools next year. I told her she'd better ask a hero student a few questions before making
her final decision."
"That's a smart idea. I know I wish I had a heads-up about a few things before my first day." Gran
and All Might subscribed to the sink or swim method for his first day. He went in all but blind.
Then again, with Mr. Aizawa, that was probably the goal. To see how the students act in a crazy
situation. "Go ahead and ask. I was in your position not that long ago, after all," he says, turning to
Tsuyu.
"What's the entrance exam like?" she asks, carefully setting down her chopsticks.
"Intense," Izuku says. "You're in a group with about a hundred other people and told to get as many
points as possible. The only rule is that you can't hurt others."
"And you get points from breaking robots, right?" Tsuyu asks. Izuku nods. "How hard are they to
break?"
Izuku thinks for a moment. "You can't do it with normal human strength, but a physical quirk like
yours should be enough to get a good amount of points. I don't know how many you need, though,
since they only have twenty spots, and only the top test takers are accepted into the hero course."
"What are classes like?"
"Hard but fun," Izuku says. "I probably do active combat and rescue training for around four hours
a day, and I have regular high school classes on top of that, and weight lifting. The teachers are
great, though. All of them are real pros and are good at what they do."
"Okay," Tsuyu says, looking away from him and at the table in front of her. She blinks once and
looks back at him. "Was it scary?"
"I'm sorry?"
"Being out there, fighting villains and getting hurt. Is it scary?" The table has gone quiet. No
chopsticks swishing through broth, and no clack of a mug hitting wood.
"Yeah," Izuku admits with some difficulty. "I… Every time I've been on patrol, even quiet ones,
there's this fear that something is going to go wrong and that I won't be able to do anything, or that
I'll fail and someone will get hurt. Or that I'll get hurt, even. I know that my ambulance ride to the
hospital was really scary. But I signed up for it. And when I'm out there, I know that I can make a
difference, even if I'm scared. I'm another hero out on the street, keeping people safe. And when I
get back home, that fear slips away, and then I feel happy and fulfilled because I made it through
another patrol, helping people all the while."
"Thank you." Tsuyu dips her head. "You've given me a lot to think about."
"No problem." Izuku smiles, picking his chopsticks back up. "I'm glad I'm helping you with this.
Being a hero isn't a small thing, and you should think about it. And there's no shame if you decide
it's not for you," he adds. "I know it's not for everyone."
Dinner is relaxed after that. Izuku mostly focuses on eating, because it's good food and he doesn't
know what to say, but he ends up talking with the Asui children a lot. Mostly about what he does at
school or interesting things that happen in class. He's pretty sure he gets Satsuki to fall in love with
Mirio and Nejire just from recounting stories about their shenanigans which, in all honesty, is fair
because all of his friends are amazing like that.
Izuku also talks a lot about his Quirk because a super powerful emitter is a very interesting thing
among a family of mutant types. Beru also works in a doctor's office, one that specifically helps
classify newly manifested Quirks. She's curious and intrigued about his late-bloomer status but
accepts the lie that it laid dormant until his body could handle the power. Izuku has to fight to keep
from sighing in relief when she does, and takes a rather large sip of tea to hide the obvious tension
in his face.
After dinner comes dessert, which is a simple yet delicious chocolate cake. Izuku only has half a
slice to comply with his diet, though it's a near thing because his mom and Beru clearly want him
to eat more. (Though if he sneaks a little spoonful of frosting just because, no one says anything.)
They relax in the living room once they're done, stomachs full and the dishes conveniently
forgotten for the time being. Well, not by Izuku since he offers to help wash, but since he's a guest,
the answer is a firm and instant no. But that's fine. He enjoys building legos in the living room with
Sami and Satsuki much more than scrubbing away at ceramic, and the All Might movie playing in
the background makes it even better.
"Hey, where's your bathroom?"
"Upstairs. Just go through the dining room and you'll see the way up. It's the first door on the
right."
Nature calls, and Izuku goes, washes his hands, dries, and gets ready to hurry back downstairs. One
last look in the mirror confirms that his hair is still messed up and doesn't look stupid, and that his
shirt is still neatly tucked into his waistband. He walks out of the bathroom and takes one step
down the stairs. But then, a chill goes down his spine, his body hair stands on end, and a wave of
adrenaline rips through his veins. Danger danger danger danger. One for All goes wild inside of
him, and Izuku takes an uneasy look over his shoulder.
He hears a crack, followed by a poof, and then what sounds like millions of tiny shards of ice hit
the ground. All from the room marked Sami.
Two heavy thuds of shoes on hardwood only confirm his fears.
He sends a text to his mom before doing anything, and the soft sound of a movie and happy
laughter stops echoing through the home. Inside Sami's room, the closet opens and shuts, and
there's some soft cursing.
Izuku thinks, plans, and then acts. He knocks on the door, low and at a fraction of his usual
strength. "Sami?" he says, intentionally light and airy, somewhere between childlike and over-the-
top feminine. "Mom and Dad say that you can have a midnight snack with us if you want. Can I
come in?"
The people inside seem to freeze for a moment. Then Izuku hears footsteps, backing away from the
door, much too heavy for a normal person. Izuku quietly steps to the side, away from the zone of
impact. He does so just in the nick of time.
A massive person, so tall they could touch the ceiling with their head if they got on their toes,
crashes through the door and slams into the drywall. They let out a growl of anger, but Izuku
doesn't let them react any more than that. He snaps them up in Blackwhip, head to toe, and looks
inside of Sami's room. Someone's trying to climb out the window, and Izuku dives after them
without hesitation, his human cargo trailing behind.
The person—who's covered in fake hands—rolls on the ground and stands back up, slashing at
Izuku with one of their hands, their fingers splayed in a way that only five-point type Quirk users
do. Izuku leans back, aiming a kick at their jaw. The hand villain, who is a skinny, pale male,
blocks with his other hand, and Izuku's shoe starts to crumble. The hand villain starts to attack with
his hand again, and then Izuku throws the big man at his partner, hard. Both of them go flying into
a nearby tree, groaning in pain.
Blackwhip binds them, and one hand navigates the HN, asking for backup, transport, medical, and
just about anything else Izuku can think of. He even calls Mr. Aizawa because everything fits. The
disintegration Quirk for removing windows, going into a child's bedroom, no signs of transport to
or from the home. If they're not the kidnappers, then Izuku will happily eat his shoe.
"Problem Child." Izuku relaxes a bit at the sound of his teacher's voice, but his grip on the villains
doesn't slacken. In the distance, he can hear sirens.
"I think I caught those kidnappers you've been looking for."
There's a sharp intake of breath and then a lot of rustling. "I take my eye off of you for two days
and this happens," the man grumbles, his words bouncing as he runs. "Maybe cool it with the
incidents? There's already going to be so much paperwork because you caught them."
"I'm sorry, sir," Izuku says, watching as the two men struggle against Blackwhip. It's completely
futile, but they never give up. They're desperate to get free. That's dangerous, and Izuku backs up a
bit to keep safe. "They're both secure; I have people on the way to assist. You can probably see my
requests on the HN if you look. Both are male, one Japanese, skinny and pale. The other's African,
with an obvious lion mutation. The Japanese man has a disintegration Quirk, five-digit activation."
"Good work." The sound of a car door closing comes over the line. "Hold them there, and whatever
you do, don't let them go. They are deadly child traffickers; we cannot afford to have them walk
free."
"Yes, sir!"
"Stay on the line." The sirens are getting even closer now, maybe a few blocks away. "Why were
you in the middle of a random suburb?"
"Dinner with the Asuis, remember?" Izuku says, watching as the two men gradually give up on
breaking out of Blackwhip. "I'm glad I was here."
"Me too," Aizawa admits. "How did you make the capture?"
"I heard them in someone's room, so I faked like I was their sibling and baited them into
attacking," Izuku replies. "Hold on, the police are here."
A cruiser, followed by a police van and a paramedic, pulls to the side of the street and right up
through the lawn. It parks under the tree and two people hurry out, one from each side. One rushes
to open the door of the police van and the other jogs over to Izuku.
The officer takes one look at the angry faces of the criminals and nods. A smile breaks out on his
face, satisfied and happy. "Those are the bastards, alright. The small one's the leader and the big
guy is the muscle. If we get them, then we can track their warper, the kids, and whoever else they
hired. Good work, kid."
"Thank you, sir," Izuku says. "But how will we handle transport? One of them can disintegrate
everything they touch and the other is really strong. That van won't hold up with both of them."
"Quirk supressesents and sedatives," the officer simply replies. "Dope them both up and they'll be
little angels the whole way back to the station. There's a little debate on if it's ethical to use them,
but with those two no one's going to complain. Hey, Doc!"
"Yes, officer?" The paramedic, who was carefully taking stock of their supplies after seeing that
there's no wounded, looks up.
"Quirk supressesents and sedatives, please. Lots of them."

"How big are they?" the paramedic asks, pulling out a small kit and digging through for syringes
and vials. The officer only looks to Izuku.
"Sixty-five kilos for the decay villain, and one hundred forty kilos for the mutant," he estimates.
"Sir, if you need me to, I can fly them both right to the station right now. It'll be faster than you can
go and we won't have to worry about them breaking free."
"No thanks," the officer shakes his head. "It's not that I don't trust you—I've heard enough from
Eraser to know you're good—but they need to be brought in by the police. We've failed to get them
for months, and if some fresh-faced hero delivers them instead of us, it'll look bad for the entirety
of police in Japan."
"And then crime will go up," Izuku nods, unhappy. "I understand. Can I at least ride with you? For
extra security, I mean."
"Of course. Hell, I'd even let you in the back of the van with them," the cop chuckles.
"I can do that," Izuku agrees. "It shouldn't be too danger—"
Snap!
Izuku's attention snaps to the tree and the villains under it. Cracks line the trunk of the tree,
running up and down and forming patches of grey that flake off in the light breeze. He hears the
officer swear next to him as the tree starts to groan and lean to the side. Right in the direction of
the Asui home.
There's another snap, but Izuku's already in motion, dashing behind the tree and grabbing as much
of it as he can with Blackwhip. But it's not enough. The tree is massive and old, forty feet tall and
still healthy. He pushes more of Blackwhip out, grabbing at the top of the branches as his body
strains. It's not bad, but it's definitely uncomfortable and is going to leave him sore until he gets a
good night's rest.
"Let it down, let it down!" someone screams. "Lay it parallel to the house!"
Izuku tries to comply, guiding the mass of wood, which is gradually getting lighter, to the right. It's
hard work, because the tree wants to crash right down on the roof of the house, but after a few
seconds, it gets light enough that Izuku can move it away and drop it on the ground.
He's breathing heavily, and he can feel the rush of adrenaline still going. The tree is disintegrating
and is about halfway gone. The house is perfectly intact, and the first responders around look
relieved. Blackwhip still has the villains bound up tight. Everything's fine. Until it isn't.
A cloud, or maybe a mass of them, swirls out of nothing under Sami's bedroom window. Purple
and inky black, it demands everyone's attention. The villains exchange a look. Their desperation
returns, and Izuku makes sure they're wrapped up tight.
The paramedic approaches them slowly, holding a tray with two needles on it. The lion mutant
sees this and opens his mouth wide. An ear-splitting roar rips through the air, echoing off the
house and drowning out every other sound. Izuku flinches but holds tight. The paramedic drops his
tray, and an officer bends down to pick the medicine up. It's just what the villains want.
The lion mutant stops roaring and switches to kicking up dirt. A clump makes it all the way to the
portal and passes through. Izuku eyes the small mass of clouds warily, waiting for something or
someone to slip through. But it's not the other side of the portal he has to worry about; it's the
villains before him.
Pain, burning, searing pain, makes him gasp out in shock. But it's not on his body. It's outside of it,
and in his mind. One for All howls in agony and rage, and the bits of Blackwhip coming from his
hand wither and die. They gradually go grey, traveling right to his arm. Izuku drops Blackwhip,
and the pain goes away. The villains break free.
Izuku, still in shock, freezes as the pair shatter the stone-like remains of his whips and dash for the
portal. An officer fires their gun, but it misses, kicking up dirt a few feet to the right of them. They
make it through and the portal starts to close. But Izuku isn't going to let them get away.
Pushing through his shock and shoving away One for All's rage, he dives for the portal, embracing
the cool, thick darkness. He feels it start to close in on him—whoever's warp Quirk this is, they
definitely don't want him in here. But he's already in motion, and the warp villain can't react fast
enough. Izuku ends up on the other side and tackles the first person he can get.
The lion mutant grunts as Izuku hits him, stumbling and nearly collapsing to the floor. But he rights
himself and grabs Izuku by a leg and throws him, one-handed, into a concrete wall. Izuku hits it
hard, and the air is forced out of his lungs. He thanks his past self for putting so much power into
his Quirk because otherwise he'd have been knocked out from his head hitting solid rock.
Izuku gets back up, raising his fists and taking stock of the area. The room is wide but short, with a
low cement ceiling and lots of dim overhead lights. To his far right is a heavy metal door that's
locked shut, and to his left is a staircase. Before him stand three villains, the two from earlier and a
cloud person who's probably the warper.
"Shigaraki Tomura," the warper says in a rich baritone. "I see that your hunt was unsuccessful."
The skinny man snarls, his two real hands shaking with fury. "This punk decided to play hero! Do
you have any idea how hard I've worked? Now I'll have to kill you and spend more time grabbing
brats!"
"Easy," the lion mutant says, stepping forward to block Shigaraki. "Let's take this easy. Boy," he
addresses Izuku, "you can walk away with your life right now. You may have gotten the two of us,
but with Kurogiri and the rest of the men, you don't stand a chance. This is our last night out; once
the others are back, no more children will be taken."
"I can't do that." Izuku holds firm, flaring One for All and letting his green lightning fill the room.
"I'm going to capture all of you and rescue the kids you've taken."
"Oh?" Shigaraki leans forward, a single finger reaching up and scratching his neck. "And
how will you manage that? We're three high level players. You're just some kid, and you've already
got a debuff!" The villain points to Izuku's feet, and he risks a glance down. Half of one of his big
toes is missing, severed just below the nail and spilling blood everywhere. It's enough to make his
stomach churn because he hadn't noticed. His body is blocking out the pain because he's in fight-
or-flight, he realizes. It won't last for long. He has to end this now.
Without a word, he charges, kicking up to the ceiling and ricocheting off. He swings his leg in an
axe kick, aimed right at the top of the lion's head. The man raises his arms, bracing for impact, but
Izuku pulls away and delivers a massive uppercut to Shigaraki's jaw. The villain slams into the
opposite wall and crumples to a heap. Bits of teeth fly out, along with crimson wads of blood and
spit. Izuku keeps on attacking.
He targets the warper next, using a full-on Delaware-Detroit Smash to push them back before
rebounding off the walls and diving right at their center of mass. His shoulder hits metal, and he
tackles something solid. With ease, he slams the warper into the ground, repeating the action again
to make sure they're dazed.
The lion tries to grab him from behind, but Izuku backflips over and grabs both of the man's arms
with Blackwhip. Predictably, the villain pulls. Izuku lets him, and pulls at the lines too. He slams
into the man's back at top speed, laying him out. But this villain is way above average. With a spin,
the lion puts Izuku off balance and kicks him away. Separated, they begin to circle.
Izuku is at a disadvantage. Disabling the warper eased that somewhat, but even if it's just the lion
to deal with, he's injured and losing blood. He doesn't have his phone, and his clothes are less than
ideal for this. To top it all off, he has no idea where he is. The lion, by contrast, can wait for him to
bleed out or for his adrenaline to stop. Either way, Izuku will falter and be easily defeated. From
the way the man calmly paces, it's clear he knows this. Izuku has to attack.
Drawing back a fist, Izuku watches as the man braces himself for a gust of wind. Instead, Izuku
shoots a whip, right between his eyes. The villain instinctively claws at his face, and Izuku closes
the distance. He throws a twenty-two percent haymaker to the man's solar plexus, but it's to little
effect. Izuku ducks under a left hook and counters with a kick to the knee. The man collapses on
him but uses it to his advantage. Izuku can feel him try to go for a chokehold, but he slips away and
puts some distance between them.
The lion eyes him carefully as they go back to circling. Hits to the torso won't work on him, Izuku
thinks. He's too dense and sturdy. But big guys like him all have one common weak point.
Izuku lunges, bursting with Float and casting Blackwhip at the villain's face again. This time he
dodges, but that's just what he wants. Izuku sharply turns, right into his path of evasion. He slams
the heel of his left foot into the man's knee, as hard as he can. There’s a pop and a roar of pain that
bounces off the wall and makes his ears ring.
Pulling back, Izuku watches as the man tries to get back up, first to his feet but failing that, his
hands and knees. His leg is contoured in a disgusting way, bent all out of shape and with his knee
going backwards. Izuku almost feels sorry for the desperation and pain in his eyes. Almost. The
thought of what they would have done to Sami if they had gotten their hands on him keeps him
from trying to comfort the villain.
"Kurogiri," the lion villain chokes. There are tears running down his face now, fat and slow. "W-
wake up! We have a deal! Someone, please help!"
"Help?" Izuku can't stop himself from speaking or showing his disgust. "You're villains!
Traffickers! I don't know what you plan to do with those kids, but I know it's awful!" One for All
screams with him, swirling around inside of him, shaking with rage. "No one is coming for you!
Nothing! I'm going to knock you out and carry you to the station, and then you'll rot in prison for
the rest of your life!"
The villain sobs, crying out in some language Izuku doesn't understand. Under any other
circumstances, he'd find it gut-wrenching, but he's bleeding and missing a piece of his body.
Slowly, he walks forward, ready to knock the man out. But then, the metal door at the end of the
hallway creaks. There's a thump on the other side, and a dent appears on it. Izuku feels his
heartbeat pick up and his breathing become more ragged. Something is on the other side of that
door, and judging by how heavy and secure the thing is, it's supposed to stay there.
Something scratches against the metal, the awful sound penetrating through and making Izuku
wince. There's a low rumble that shakes the floor, and even the lion villain looks nervous.
Something hits the door again, making the dent bigger. It repeats it again, and the dent grows, the
door straining against its hinges. On the third hit, it opens.
Izuku's vision clouds, the only thing left to see being the door, which opens up to a yawning black
hole. Suddenly, he feels tears running down his cheeks. He raises a hand to wipe them away, but
then a weight settles in his mind. But it's not One for All. It's something different. Younger.
Hostile. It's angry.
Suddenly, he's little again, being teased in the lunchroom. Then he's twelve, with Bakugo kicking
him down into the dirt and burning him with explosions. More and more follow, all from memories
he's tried to forget. The feeling of bullets digging into his flesh, blood that isn't his staining his
skin, gunshots ringing in his ears. But there are memories that aren't his, too.
He's kneeling, looking up at a man in a suit with a cruel smile, and he feels his Quirk leave his
body. Then he's being shoved into a wall, with hands covering his face and a Quirk that isn't his
being shoved into him. He feels his entrails leave his body and a life snuff out inside of him. Then
burning pain, all over his skin, along with the sensation of blood leaking into his lungs. It keeps
coming, seeming endless and only growing in clarity, until finally, he feels a massive drill-like
object dig into his side, and half of his entrails are ripped out, slowly.
One for All must realize what's going on because it flares. It kicks and screams like it never has
before, attacking whatever's inside of his mind with everything it's got. Izuku collapses to the floor
(is it real or just another memory?) and clutches his head, trying to ride out the war inside. And
then, after what feels like hours, the fog is lifted.
Izuku gasps, shaking to his feet. His whole body is quaking, and he swings around, looking for
whoever did that to him. He doesn't find anything, but One for All goes still. Behind.
Izuku ducks, kicking a leg out and driving his foot into something soft. It impacts the wall, and he
chases after it, using Blackwhip to try and capture it. He feels the thing try to probe his mind again,
but he blocks it. With one final flurry of kicks, whatever broke out is stopped.
"Sensei's work has progressed much faster than I had ever imagined," the warp villain—Kurogiri—
says. Izuku kicks out a wave of air at where it came from, but it misses. "It's a shame that it wasn't
able to finish the job, but you are weakened now."
A pair of portals open. Out of one falls six armed men, all holding two children. They're surprised
for a split second but quickly catch on. The other portal stays as it is, nothing passing through even
as its twin disappears.
"One of you, wake Tomura up. Another, drag Lionel to the medical area," Kurogiri orders. "The
rest of you, kill him."
Two people break off to help their downed comrades. Izuku doesn't bother with attacking them
because he's really not sure if he can fight. He's shaking from head to toe, and his mind is going
wild. There's nowhere to run, and he might—no. He's got to pull through. There are a dozen
children, barely six years old at most, counting on him. He has to pull through.
The four villains all rush him at once, flanking around and lashing out with a combination of
Quirks and knives. Izuku dodges as best he can, trying to get his bearings so he can strike back. But
everything is just off. His balance is shot, and a knife cuts against his ribs. A punch rattles his
lungs. Something blunt and cold hits his thigh, and he goes down.
Up, up, up! One for All screeches. Izuku tries, but a boot stomps on his back, flattening him again.
But he can't give up, so he tries again. He ends up back on the floor too, but he keeps trying. And
eventually, he gets it.
Izuku balls a hand into a fist and punches the floor below. Children scream as it cracks, tiny
fragments of concrete flying everywhere. Izuku grabs a particularly large chunk and throws it in
the air. The villains around him scatter, not wanting to take the hit. Izuku rolls out of the way and
stands, ignoring as the chunk of rock hits the ground.
He can't feel his right foot, but everything else is on fire. There's a cut on his forehead that refuses
to stop bleeding, blinding one eye.
"What's taking you so long?" the voice of Shigaraki rasps. Izuku feels his heart sink as the man
comes into view. He has to fight him again. "He should be dead by now!"
Izuku doesn't let them respond. Instead, he uses their moment of distraction to lash out. He digs
deep within himself and pulls out what remains of his energy.
Blackwhip explodes, not one bit of it under his control. It grabs the children and moves them to a
safer area before hitting the villains in the back of the head, knocking them out. Shigaraki dodges,
but one catches him in the back, and he slams into the wall again.
Izuku falls to one knee, exhausted. He crawls to the children, gathering them around and doing a
headcount. They're all scared and bawling, which Izuku wishes he had the energy to do, but right
now he needs to think of a way to escape. There are still two villains left—Kurogiri, too. The lion
is down for the count, luckily, but it's a small comfort when the warper co—
"Do you really think you're done?" Shigaraki stands, the hand covering his face long gone. Blood
sticks to his face, along with bits of teeth. He smiles, wide and bloody. Izuku instinctively huddles
the children nearer to him, but that only makes the smile wider. The villain steps to the side and
tugs on a tiny hand. A little boy, not even two, steps from behind his legs.
Izuku looks around frantically. He still has all twelve, which means…
"Kurogiri knows this place like the back of his hand." Shigaraki spits out a wad of blood. "This
little guy was taken two weeks ago. And I'll kill him if you don't let me kill you!"
"No…" Izuku wheezes. He'll save them all. He has to. "L… let him go."
"No. Kurogiri!" A cloud of smoke with yellow eyes materializes beside Shigaraki. "I want that
piece of filth” —he points to Izuku—"gone. Open a portal so I can dump his dust."
A portal opens to who knows where. Izuku has no intention of finding out and stands. There's
barely anything left in him, but One for All casts out a few whips to back him up. He prepares to
lunge, but Shigaraki is faster. All ten of his fingers touch the boy's abdomen, and Izuku feels
himself snap.
Cold fills his body, and everything sharpens. He sees red, though he can't tell if that's his hate
blinding him. He lashes out at Shigaraki, just as he throws the child into the portal.
"Smash!"
Uncaring for the damage to himself, a one hundred percent punch goes off, blowing everything and
everyone away. Except for the kids behind Izuku, who are safely wrapped up in Blackwhip. And
then, for the second time today, Izuku dives through the portal.
On the other side is a forest, and Izuku crashes to the ground, barely remembering to cushion the
landing for the children in his care. He looks around desperately for the thirteenth one, but by the
time he finds him, it's too late.
"I'm here, buddy, I'm here! You're going to be fine! I am here!" He cradles the boy on his lap,
brushing hair out of his eyes and holding his hand. He smiles, or at least tries to. The boy opens
and closes his mouth over and over, but not a sound comes out. "Don't worry, help is coming. We'll
get you to a hospital and everything will be okay! Just hold a little bit more for me, o-okay? P-
please, stay awake! Don't close your eyes! Stay awake! For me, your mom and dad! Anyone!
Please, don't go!"
Help arrives but much too late. And the squad of park rangers is greeted with the sight of Izuku,
surrounded by crying children, trying to force a pile of dead dust back together.
Chapter End Notes
I said fluff and feels, and you for fluff and feels. Just not the good feels. And if you're
wondering why Shigaraki can decay Blackwhip, it's mostly to make sure he doesn't get
steam roller by Izuku, but it also kind of makes sense. He can Decay everything solid,
and Blackwhip is definitely solid. It's like him breaking Todoroki's ice, I think.
This arc is going to end soon ish, by the way. One or two more chapters. I'm not going
to spoil anything, but it's not exactly going to be happy, so sorry if you wanted
everything to be perfect. This was a dark arc to start, and it will end as a dark arc.
I hope you enjoyed. Cheers.

Comfort and Lies
Chapter Notes
TW: Graphic depictions of injury. Starts at "Tomura is dead" and ends at "Kneeling
down, All"
Both will be bold. There's also some uncomfortable medical stuff in the last scene
which starts with the usual [x]. Read at your own digression.
As of May 23, 2021 this chapter has been edited and reformated by my beta flauel.
The amount of devastation is quite impressive. The entire bunker system has collapsed, trees have
fallen on each other, and a large pit takes up a massive section of the surrounding area.
It's quite impressive and very clear that One for All has grown in power considerably. A single
punch, the origin of which was underground, knocked down half a forest and triggered a massive
response from heroes and government officials in the area. Which is a shame. It means All for One
can't grab the Ninth while he's in the area.
Though, he supposes, there's some poetic satisfaction in having Tomura kill the boy when the time
comes. All for One just has to find the body of his successor first, which would normally be a
herculean task but is trivial for him even in his weakened state. A tracking Quirk, simple so as to
not put too much strain on his body, tells him exactly where Tomura is, along with Kurogiri and a
few other life forms. He warps them to his position, ignoring the bad taste it leaves in his mouth.
Tomura is dead. Or at least on the brink of being dead. It's a shame All for One can't make the
boy more durable without ruining his already fragile mind or making him a full-on Nomu.
The Ninth is clearly strong and didn't pull any punches at all. Interesting. Bruises cover Tomura's
body, the damage to him so severe that blood leaks out of purple skin. All of his teeth are missing,
bloody gums taking their place. His chest is caved in, and his limbs are twisted with bits of bone
poking out. His eyes are swollen shut, and his breathing is labored and gurgly. Blood in his lungs,
obviously. Not to mention how damaged his other vital organs must be.
Tomura's henchmen are only slightly better off. Most of them have been broken beyond repair. But
All for One is not above scavenging for spare parts and decides that he'll take them, too.
Kurogiri and Lionel are fine. Nothing a few seconds of a healing Quirk won't fix, though Lionel's
leg looks nasty. Nine apparently has no qualms with severe brutality against his enemies,
something All for One can understand.
Kneeling down, All for One places a hand on Tomura's chest. He takes Decay and gives Super
Reconstruction. He watches as his successor gradually heals, purple fading to pale white. His teeth
cannot be regrown, which is a shame but not the worst outcome.
When Super Reconstruction has done its work, he takes it back. Then, with a simple liquid
manipulation Quirk, he forces the blood out of Tomura's lungs. Then and only then does he return
Decay.
Forced Quirk Activation is used next on Kurogiri, and a portal is opened back to his main
laboratory. He prepares to guide everyone through, but the crunch of a stick stops him. A hero,
fresh-faced and young, stares him down. All for One kills them without a second thought, using a
transformative power to extend his arm and impale them through the chest. He takes the hero, the
henchmen—both dead and alive—along with his successor through the portal. More Quirks and
bodies are always needed for his and the doctor's projects.
The dead are placed on some of the doctor's exam tables while the living are taken deeper into the
complex. Tomura gets a private room, but Kurogiri and Lionel are housed together, and All for
One relaxes in his seat, sighing in satisfaction as his helmet comes off.
As he plugs himself into the various machines, he calls the doctor. The man will always make time
for him, so it's no surprise when he picks up at eight PM, right as a rush starts to work its way
through the emergency room.
"My lord," the doctor greets. The camera is lit poorly—the man's office is always a mess, so it's not
a surprise—but All for One has found sight to be a trivial thing for a while now. "Has something
happened?"
"Tomura has made direct contact with the Ninth," All for One says plainly. "He was beaten
soundly and nearly died. We're still not at our goal, but I have managed to pick up a few new toys."
"Are they of the appropriate age?"
"Unfortunately, no. All of them are adult males, aged twenty to thirty-five." All for One shifts in
his seat, making sure the many tubes sticking in him sit correctly. Too much pressure on the wrong
one could be disastrous. "But then again, Doctor, the first ten passed, did they not? In fact..."
All for One activates his warp Quirk, pulling the subject from a pile of rubble hundreds of miles
away directly to him. Its invisibility Quirk does little to hide it from All for One's heat sense. Like
Tomura, it's broken and battered but still in working condition. With time, it will be ready for
another deployment. "This one held up nicely. I'm quite certain that without it, Tomura would be in
prison right now. Or in a morgue."
"I agree, but ten is too small of a sample size." The doctor opens a desk drawer and pulls out a leaf
of paper. "For our plans, especially for the High and Special Ends, we need to make sure we have
everything right. I am hesitant to think that moving forward at this time would be beneficial. I will
need to work with the rest of the subjects we currently have, and perhaps some more."
"Yes, yes." All for One strokes his chin. "The High Ends must be perfect, I agree. More work will
need to be done. But the Specials… I think we have the formula down."
"I trust your judgement, my lord," the doctor says carefully. "But I feel you are too hasty. If you
wish to start work with all of them, I cannot promise you will end up with sixty units."
"Fifty-nine," All for One sighs in disappointment. "Tomura killed one, or at least it has gone
missing, and the workers failed to produce any more. Number forty-five is the missing subject. The
boy with no Quirk manifestation yet, but I could tell it was going to be some sort of fear inducer."
"A shame," the doctor grumbles. "If we hadn't sunk so many resources into that Tomura boy, I'd
suggest you cut him loose. Getting one over on him is a small thing when it means putting up with
the boy's gross incompetence."
"Oh, Doctor." All for One chuckles. "Villains have always been petty, and I will continue the
tradition. Tomura needs some work, yes, but he does learn. Why, I know for a fact he's been
working on his Quirk! Decay has grown stronger since I've dispatched him. Although maybe I'm
too easy on the boy. The Ninth is way out of his league."
"How big is their power difference?"
"I told you that he nearly killed Tomura," All for One answers. "Whether that says more about his
willingness to do the unspeakable or his desperation after fighting the Special, I do not know. But
the Ninth also defeated all of Tomura's henchmen and has proficiency with two of the past holders'
Quirks. And he generated enough force to cave in the entire bunker system."
"... He would make a fine Nomu," the doctor says. "The Quirkless base, multi-Quirk skills, and the
willingness to be ruthless…"
"The Ninth would be an excellent High End, yes," All for One agrees. "But arranging that is much
too difficult to do. All Might would turn over the ends of the earth to find him, and we can't handle
that much attention. I've already had to clean up after Tomura's mess once, and there will be more
interest now since it's obvious there's another player on the field giving orders."
"And what will we do now?" the doctor asks. "With your help, I can start production within the
month, and we need to keep the boy out of jail. Or we could give him the boot," he adds, mostly to
joke, but… jail, growth, power disparity...
"Doctor, are you aware of a man named Bubaigawara Jin?"
"Of course. He's been on the List for years."
"Good, good. Bring him to me. I have a plan, and the deal of a lifetime to offer the young man.
Though Tomura won't be happy about it."
[x]
Izuku doesn't remember falling asleep, but he must've because he wakes up in bed. His body feels
heavy, and his surroundings are dead silent. There's no pain, but his right arm feels stiff and his
mind feels tired.
He opens his eyes to total darkness, feeling a little nervous until he gets used to the dark. He's in a
hospital room, a small one with a single visiting chair and one window which is covered by a
curtain. There are machines off to the side, unplugged and silent. He tries to think of why he fell
asleep or how he got there, but it's fuzzy.
Crying, lots and lots of crying. Screams too, of pain and fear. His breath hitches as he remembers
the life fading from that boy's eyes. It replays over and over in perfect detail, like punishment for
his failure.
People found him, he thinks. Or knows, because he's in a hospital bed right now. But why was he
asleep? The last thing he wanted was to lose sight of the twelve children; he shouldn't've passed out
even if he was completely exhausted.
Izuku sits up, ignoring the dull throb in his chest. He wants to cry, or maybe break something. It's
hard to tell everything apart, either because he's tired or because he subconsciously refuses to.
He just feels numb. His emotions stay packed somewhere far off, waiting to be touched. But Izuku
doesn't want to touch them. He wants to see the other children and figure out what's going on.
He swings a leg out of bed, carefully testing how it feels to stand. His right foot feels wrong, and
he dimly remembers the sight of his injured big toe. He looks down and swallows. He's barefoot,
but the part of the toe he lost is bandaged. It's hard to tell, but he thinks that it looks shorter than
usual.
His thighs hurt a bit, too, but not badly. He slowly walks over to the line of light switches on the far
wall, ignoring the pain in his foot and how awkward it feels to move. He flicks on a light and
blinks as light blinds him.
There are toys in his room. Little cars, dolls, and coloring pages with crayons or markers. The
walls are painted a light blue and green, with animals of all kinds decorating every spare surface. It
gives him hope that the twelve are okay, and Izuku carefully turns the knob of the door. He steps
out into the hall.
It's well-lit, and it's clear that he's at the start of whatever wing this is. A waiting area is to his
right, with a large desk operated by a few nurses and lots of chairs in the waiting area. A sign
directly in front of him reads Pediatric Wing, Rooms 101-200 with an arrow under, pointing down
the long corridor.
"Ex-cu-se me," Izuku says, coughing. His vocal cords feel awful, like he tried to swallow
sandpaper and then washed it down with hot sauce. The nurses at the desk look up at him, and one
nearly falls out of their seat in shock.
What feels like a small army of healthcare professionals materialize out of nowhere, forcing him
back into his room and inspecting every inch of him. One takes his temperature while another
makes sure his knees are alright. A woman asks how his arm feels in the cast while a man checks
his heart rate. It's all very overwhelming, and Izuku tries his best to answer every question, but
between his grogginess and his sore voice, it's really hard.
Eventually, a straw is forced between his lips, and Izuku takes a sip of warm but not hot tea. It's
sweet, with lemon and honey.
"Wh… where are they?" he asks, throat soothed enough to speak real words. "Are they all safe?"
"They're okay," a nurse answers. "Shaken up, but okay. They felt better when they were in here
with you and even played a bit. The first responders had to practically pry them off you with a stick
after they put you under for transport."
Izuku takes a moment to process. "... I was sedated?"
"You were very distressed and refused to part with… with the dust," another nurse says delicately.
"They gave you a good deal of Quirk suppressants and sedatives."
Izuku lets out a shaky breath, torn between laughing and crying. They managed to knock him out
and pump him full of drugs, but not Shigaraki and the other villain. The irony is an awful burning
thing in the forefront of his mind, mocking him.
"Can I see the kids?" he asks instead of laughing or crying. They come before his feelings. Izuku
knows that they're probably scared right now.
"You can, but we need to know something first." Izuku looks up at the oldest nurse in the room, a
greying woman with pale grey scrubs to match her eyes.
"What is it?"
"The first responders found you sobbing over a pile of bloody dust," she says carefully, like
speaking too fast would set him off. "They've somewhat pieced it together from what the children
have said, but the police need a definite answer."
Izuku swallows. He's not sure if he can say it, the words sticking to his tongue and adamantly
refusing to leave. "It was a boy, about two years old," he forces out. The nurses say nothing but
look at him with somber expressions. One even rests a hand on his back. "The villain had a
disintegration Quirk, and..."
"I understand," the old nurse says. "I'll inform the police. They'll want to talk to you in person
about this, but we won't let them or anyone else in until you feel ready. There is no rush. Are you
sure you want to see the children?"
Izuku nods. "Please."
Five minutes later, the kids are ferried in by a group of soft-spoken nurses who heard them through
the door and do their best to keep them from being too excited. Some of the kids look scared and
nervous; others seem perfectly normal and happily talk to each other. But there's a few that wear no
expression and look at him with dull eyes. Izuku feels his heart break when he looks at them
because that's how he feels. Numb, confused, and unsure of how to react. He scoops one up into
his bed and gives them a tight embrace, ignoring the tiny voice inside of him telling him to cry.
Tears later, comforting the kids now.
"What's your name?" Izuku asks, patting the kid on the back. They answer, and moments later
Izuku is swamped with children telling him their names. There's Aki, Matsu, Momo, Keechan,
Nobi, and so many more. And all of them refuse to call Izuku anything other than Mr. Deku. He
tries to get them to drop the Mr, but it's hopeless. They're practically imprinted on him, and he can't
do a thing about it. Not that he would. These kids have seen hell, and him at his worst. Izuku
intends to make sure they never have to go through anything like what happened to them again.
Which brings him to his next thought: How can he make sure that Shigaraki and the rest never see
the light of day again? By all means, Izuku should've beaten them, but that thing. That monster
from behind the door has him worried and even a little fearful of any future encounters. Did he
cripple it? Kill it? What even was it? Are there more? There are just too many unknowns, and not
to mention what he felt and saw while It was in his mind.
The other users were him, or he was the other users. Everything was in the first person, and he saw
what some of them would have seen. That cruel man with the smile, ripping his Quirk from his
body—it had to be All for One. And the person having their Quirk taken must've been the person
who had the stockpiling Quirk first. And the rest of the feelings… The next time Izuku sees All
Might, he's going to ask about how much his injury hurt because if it was as bad as he felt…
Later. Stick to the known variables.
Shigaraki is probably the least threatening. Even if he can break Blackwhip, Izuku can work
around it, and he has a trick up his sleeve, just in case. He'll have to thank Tamaki for the book he
got for Izuku's birthday. Hopefully it will come in handy, but if it doesn't, Izuku is more than
willing to do worse to that murderer.
The warper is by far the most dangerous, and the most unknown. Whatever passes through travels
some distance but not a lot, just a few steps. There's no telling what can and can't pass through or
how the warper knows where to make the portals. Are they based on coordinates? Past interaction?
Either way, it could very easily be deadly. Izuku might pass through and wind up above an active
volcano, or on top of Everest, which means he has to avoid Kurogiri at all costs. But evasion is one
of his strong points, and Izuku knows where to hit when the opening arrives.
The lion mutant poses an interesting problem. Assuming he's been healed (and Izuku will always
assume the worst; better safe than sorry), then he won't let Izuku get a shot at his knee again. And
he can tank a twenty percent hit. Perhaps evasion would work on him, too. Keeping him guessing
would make him raise his guard higher, sure, but he'll be unprepared when Izuku hits, meaning
there's a better chance the fight will end with a single hit. Speed is of the essence throughout all of
it because every moment Izuku spends fighting is one the captured children spend away from
home or worse.
"Sir." A nurse pokes her head through the door, gaining Izuku's attention.
"Hm?" He looks over, pushing his plan aside for now. The nurse stares at him for a moment,
drinking in the odd sight before them. A few of the children play or color on the floor, but five of
them are on his bed. Two sit near his shoulders, running fingers through his hair, one even trying to
tie it with a toddler-sized scrunchie. He holds another in his unbroken arm, keeping him steady as
he plays with a pair of toy animals. Two more sleep or rest on his legs, motionless.
"... There's police officers here for you," they say. "And we've gotten in contact with your loved
ones. They're all very worried but relieved that you're safe. UA has chartered a plane to bring them
here. They'll arrive within the hour."
"A plane?" The nurse nods. "Where am I?"
"Okinawa, sir. Would you like something to eat?"
"Soup maybe? For my throat." Izuku gestures vaguely to his head with his left hand which is still
partially occupied with keeping a child from spilling onto the floor beside his bed.
The nurse leaves and Izuku resumes his planning. The best time to strike would be during the day.
The villains operate in the night and should be asleep for most of the afternoon. But a raid can't
happen if he doesn't know where to hit. The bunker he fought in was probably destroyed by the one
hundred percent smash, so that's out. Maybe a warehouse? Or an empty lot. Somewhere people
avoid that's big enough to hide the children.
Kurogiri's warp makes it hard to figure out where their bases would be. Even if Izuku knew where
the kids were taken from, Kurogiri could simply have moved them somewhere completely
unrelated. But then again, all Quirks have limits, even Kurogiri's. Perhaps he keeps the distances
small most of the time so he has enough energy for a big jump to escape. Or maybe it's the amount
of things he transports that limit him. Or the amount of portals opened could be the limit.
He needs more resources. Grasping at straws won't do anything but make him feel even more
useless. Aizawa knows more about this than he does, so Izuku will talk with him. He learned a lot
from his short fight, and the information he gathered combined with what the police have should be
enough to get the kidnappers for good.
"Mr. Deku, can you tell me a story?" One of the kids on his legs looks at him with tired eyes. How
long have they been awake? Did they have trouble falling asleep? They need rest, clearly. He'll tell
them a boring story so they pass out.
"Sure, buddy." Izuku reaches with his casted hand and gently taps the child on the head. "A long
time ago in a galaxy far, far away, there were these two space wizards on a ship manned entirely
by robots, and…"
Izuku spends the next half-hour plotting revenge and retelling the Phantom Menace from memory.
The children are out before the second act.
When his mom and friends arrive, there are tears and hugs and careful touches. They treat him
carefully, like he'll break at any moment. It's frustrating, but Izuku doesn't say anything about it.
He'll show them that he's still strong and that they have nothing to worry about.
Of course, it only bothers his loved ones more that not a single tear is shed from his eyes.
[x]
"He hasn't smiled."
The room is warm and tea scented, with nice mahogany chairs and a beautiful painting on the wall
that depicts three men on horseback, muskets raised high and aimed at some unseen enemy. It was
donated to the school, probably for a tax write-off, but some wealthy alum. If Toshinori had to
guess, he'd say they were from the business course.
"And it's not that I expect him to smile—lord knows that the last thing I want to see is a happy grin
when… after that happened, but." Midoriya Inko sighs, her shoulders slumping down towards her
mug of tea. "He hasn't cried either. Izuku just wakes up and goes. He doesn't talk to me, he doesn't
look at anything other than his notes, and I know he's not doing anything fun. I just don't know
what to do."
"We all grieve and deal with loss differently," Aizawa says. "It's hard to tell what's going on in his
head. Teenagers are weird, even more so than regular people. Some could brush something like
that off and others would break completely. Has he lost anyone else in his life before?"
"No, the saddest he's ever been was when the doctor misdiagnosed him," Midoriya replies. "But
this is the quietest he's ever been. I wish I could ground him or do something to get him talking, but
he's behaved perfectly. He took that mandatory time off without a complaint and even asked to go
back to school."
"His behavior here is also quite worrying," Principal Nedzu chimes in. With the click of a remote,
a screen turns on. It shows a live feed of Izuku sparring with his friends, three-on-one and holding
his own. It would make Toshinori proud on any other day, but this is a terrible exception. There's
almost no life in his face. His eyes are dull, the high resolution of the feed sparing no detail. He
fights at maximum efficiency, with no flare at all and no super move callouts. The four teens call
for a break, but Izuku keeps working on his own as his friends watch on with worry.
"There's more." A few more clicks and the screen switches to show a feed dated yesterday. It's
Izuku sizing up a third year hero student in the ring. Both fighters are in gym uniforms, and when
the bell rings, they pounce on each other. Izuku lets them take the initiative, ducking and weaving
around punches like he knows where they'll be before they're even thrown. But at some invisible
signal, Izuku counters, spinning away from his bigger opponent and driving the tips of his fingers
into their deltoid as hard as possible. The third year flinches back and lashes out with the arm Izuku
hit, and the boy lets it land. But no Quirk is activated. The third year looks shocked, but Izuku
wastes no time in knocking them out.
"Gao has a five-point activation Quirk, just like Shigaraki Tomura," Nedzu explains. "I asked him
what that move was, and he said that all five-point Quirks originate from a cluster of nerves or an
organ in the upper arm or deltoid area. He hypothesized that if hit hard enough, it could be shocked
into not working. Gao was fine after treatment from Recovery Girl."
"He's hyperfocusing." Aizawa shakes his head. "He thinks he'll be on the raid team and that he'll be
the one to keep the kids safe."
"Will he be?" Midoriya Inko asks. "Will he? Because my son shouldn't be involved in such a thing.
I won't allow it."
"I don't either," Aizawa agrees. "I've been making him see our school therapist, but Midoriya hasn't
said a word in any of his sessions. Until he shows improvement of his mental state, he won't be
allowed on active duty."
"Thank you."
"Has he said anything to you two? Yagi, Torino?" Toshinori looks over at Nedzu, not bothering to
hide how tired he feels.
"More training," Toshinori informs. "It's all he asks for. 'Make me stronger,' he says. 'I want to be
better.' I have changed his regimen, but it's about the same difficulty. He thinks he's working harder
when he isn't. I wish I didn't have to resort to such tactics, but I don't know what else to do."
"And you, Torino?"
Sorahiko doesn't look away from the window. If anything, his interest in it only deepens. "You
think he's hiding how much he hurts right now. He is, but it's not for the reason you think.
"When I was a kid, a little younger than him, my mother was murdered. I didn't cry. I had to take
care of my old man, who was crippled. I couldn't afford to shed tears for the woman that raised me.
I had to pack everything away and move on. But I couldn't. I couldn't forget that some bastard out
there killed my mom. So instead of crying, I got mad. Furious. Pissed. Whatever you want to call it,
I was it. And it wouldn't go away. So I did something about it. I walked to the station, asked for
information about the case, and I did my own little investigation.
"I found the guy that did it and I kicked his teeth in. And then I handed him to the cops. They
slapped the cuffs on me, too, but I didn't care." Sorahiko looks down at his wrists, as though he can
see the shackles still there. "That first night in jail, I cried for my mother.
"Ma'am, your son is mad," he says bluntly. "He's smart, too, so he's hiding it. He knows that if he
doesn't act perfect, there's no way in hell they'll let him on that case. But I can guarantee you that
every time he fights, he sees that murder. I bet he even thinks about how he'll fight him too,
scheming all sorts of ways to get him good. And since I taught him, it's far from pretty.
"You said he hasn't cried or smiled; that's exactly how I was. Your boy isn't going to feel a damn
thing other than cold-blooded anger for a while. No tears, no joy, nothing until he finds the son of
a bitch that killed that kid and makes sure he never hurts anyone again."
"I'm not letting him on that case until he sorts out his feelings and improves his mental health,"
Aizawa says firmly. "Midoriya isn't well, and heroes who aren't in top form end up dead or worse."
Sorahiko snorts. "You think he cares if you let him do his thing?" The silence is telling. "Midoriya
is stubborn, stupid, and a tiny bit selfish. He feels like he is responsible for that kid's death, and
that he has to be the one to atone for his failure. He'll play goody-goody for a while, but there's no
way he'll take no for an answer. And, if he has to, he'll go rogue to do it."
"He wouldn't possibly—"
"Ma'am, can you honestly say that?" Midoriya Inko freezes. "This is Izuku, the boy who held up a
building to save a single life, who dove into an enemy portal on the off chance that he'd find some
of the missing children and get the bad guys when there could've been anything beyond. Can you
honestly say that there is no chance that he'd take matters into his own hands if he felt like he had
to?"
"... No."
"Exactly," Sorahiko sighs. "He's strong now and he knows that, but your boy also thinks that he has
to be the one to fix his mistakes. It's a dangerous mindset for him to have at his age. Even if he's
preparing himself for the inevitable confrontation."
"There's not going to be a confrontation," Aizawa argues. "I'll talk to him about this. I will not let
him risk his life for this case again. There's already plenty of skilled pros helping. If I tell him that,
he'll know he won't be needed."
"Izuku probably doesn't care about whether or not he's needed," Toshinori counters. It pains him
inside to admit that his old teacher is probably right on the money. "If I had to guess, I'd say he'd be
happy that they're taking the case seriously, but he won't take that the way you think. If anything,
he'll argue that since he's had direct contact, he should be on the strike team."
Aizawa's glare shows that he understands how right Toshinori is. "I still don't want to let him on."
"That's a good thing," Sorahiko says. "Means you care for him. But Midoriya won't be happy about
it. You'll only make him feel worse and prolong the state he's in by forcing him to the sidelines."
"So you're saying I should let my son fight the monsters that took a piece of his foot and killed a
little boy right in front of him," Miss Midoriya spits, somehow maintaining her polite air despite
how venomous she sounds. "He is sixteen. I was already worried when I heard that he'd be doing
real patrols. Now I'd consider pulling him out of school if it means that this is the type of thing he'll
be getting into."
"Your son would turn to vigilantism in a heartbeat if you did that," Nedzu says without hesitation.
"We all know that he can't sit still when there are people in need. It may take some time for him to
disregard the law, but he will eventually. It's best he stays here where there are teachers to watch
over him."
Miss Midoriya doesn't respond to that but takes a sip of tea, perhaps to soothe her mind.
"I say you should let him on the raid." Sorahiko looks away from the window. "Put him on a team
with a bunch of solid pros and have him do one thing. Maybe he could be backup or ferry rescued
kids to the hospital. He'll be pissed that he wasn't the one to put the villain behind bars, but he
won't feel like he did nothing."
"No." Aizawa shakes his head. "I won't let him on the field until Hound Dog has cleared him."
"You say that." Sorahiko smiles thinly. It's completely devoid of joy. "But if you refuse to budge,
Midoriya will go around you. That's just how he is. That idiot is going to be the death of us all with
his stubbornness and hero complex, and there's not a damn thing we can do to change it."
[x]
Lionel wakes up feeling fine. It's strange, but he's not one to look a gift horse in the mouth.
He sits up in bed—which is really just a mattress on the floor—and looks around. He's in a dark,
clean room. There are no windows, and the door looks worn out and old. It's not a hospital or a
cell, which is good, but he's alone, which is bad.
Was he left behind? It's possible, though unlikely. He'd be a security risk if they dropped him, and
if they wanted him gone, they'd slit his throat.
Lionel gets up and walks over to the door. It opens without much effort and reveals a wide hallway.
There are a couple of doors, big enough to drive a full-sized truck through. Everything is well-lit
and clean, which is a stark contrast to the usual hideouts.
Deciding to look around, he walks down the hall. The rooms are numbered even though there are
only six of them. The hallway leads to a large circular room that's less well-lit. Tanks of liquid are
hooked up to pipes and wires, with glowing displays monitoring all sorts of activity. There are also
clipboards with notes scrawled under titles and designations. Inside of the tanks are children, all
asleep and clothed. Some look deformed, with growths or missing limbs. Lionel looks away before
he can fully comprehend it.
"Ah, Lionel. Just who I was looking for." The African turns around to see a tall, thin man in a
white coat holding a clipboard. His smile is wide but doesn't reach his eyes.
"I'm sorry." Lionel backs up, ready to flick out his claws. "Who are you?"
"Shigaraki's benefactor," the man replies. "You may call me Sensei. I was working on Tomura's
teeth—he took a rather nasty hit, you know—but I've done all I can for the time being. Right now,
though, I need you to move a subject."
Lionel's eyes drift over to a tank, one filled with small-looking organs. "I can do that."
"Good, good. Follow me."
Sensei takes him all the way to the other end of the lab area, looking at all of the tanks with pride.
Lionel makes sure to keep his expression passive, even though his instincts are telling him to run.
"This is it." Sensei points to a medium-sized tank with a child floating in it. Lionel is forced to take
in every detail, and when he does, his heart freezes.
A little Black girl sleeps, clear tubes shoved down her nostrils and throat, with her face screwed up
in pain. There's clearly more equipment running through her, but it's obscured by her shirt, which is
bone-chillingly familiar.
A Nigerian football jersey. Green, white, and black with the proper logos and everything. Lionel
had one just like it, back when he was a young teen. It was one of the few good things he had back
then since owning a jersey like that made him cool to be around. Because of it, he was always
captain of whatever pick-up game he played, and always got to play striker.
Had this girl been the same? Had she, too, worn a bright smile despite how poor their country is,
finding joy in a simple game of football? Was she ripped from her home like Lionel? Does she hate
how everyone in this damn country looks at her like she doesn't belong?
"Beautiful, isn't she?" Sensei says proudly. "Young Nala has an amazing Quirk and shows the most
promise. I'll be starting work on the final experiment tonight."
Lionel says nothing, not trusting his mouth. He nods instead and obeys Sensei's instructions to
move the tank to an unoccupied room full of medical equipment, most of it painful-looking. Sensei
thanks him for his help and tells him he's got a few nights off and one more run until he'll be sent
home. It should be a relief. It should make him happy. But it doesn't.
Later, he lays in bed, tossing and turning, unable to fall asleep. The image of young Nala, laughing
as she kicks a football back and forth with her friends before she's taken by Shigaraki and forced
into the tank, never leaves his mind.
He leaves before the sun rises, having made his decision. He doesn't want to make more people
like him, the scum of the world willing to do anything for their own desires. He doesn't want Nala
to live on only as some sick experiment.
Lionel knows it's a stupid idea, and that he'll probably die or rot in a cell for the rest of his life, but
he can't help himself. His body moves on its own.
It's a shame that he never learns that Nala isn't named Nala and is far from being African, and that
Sensei has no face.
Chapter End Notes
Next one will end this arc and then we'll move on to the therapy arc. It'll address a lot
issues Izuku has, and he'll come out of it better then he was before.
This one was an easy write, and is entirely plot focused, which is how I like it.
Some of you didn't like the fact that Shigaraki and break Blackwhip, which is fair. It is
an asspull, as one reader put it. But I feel like I've only has one asspull for this entire
200k+ words fic, so I'm cool with it. Most of the people who had a problem said so
respectfully, which is nice. I like criticism, but reading rude things leaves a bad taste in
my mouth and I usually ignore them, so if you want to say something critial, don't be
dick and I'll take it seriously.
In other news, I got a beta. They've already fixed the first four chapters of this, which
is amazing. Once they get through everything that's already published, they'll work on
my stuff before it gets put up. My updates will probably slow somewhat, but not too
badly. Well worth it for less mistakes, I feel. Anyways, big thanks to flauel for helping
with this.
I hope you all enjoyed. Cheers!

Of Victory and Banishment
Chapter Notes
As of June 21st, 2021, this chapter has been edited and reformated by my beta, Flauel.
Duck, pivot, punch, airblast, burst, pull, dash, kick, grab, swing, punch, feint, feint, feint, tackle,
bind. Izuku gets up, making sure his opponent has been bound properly. Wrists and ankles are
secure, the waist can't move freely, and the hands are pressed into the mat below. It's a successful
capture. He drops Blackwhip and helps Nejire up, murmuring a thanks.
"You're fighting harder," Nejire says, catching a towel Mirio throws at her and wiping her forehead
with it. She's sweating hard, probably from how fast Izuku was going. Intentionally setting the pace
so fast she can't react and keeping close to limit her effective range is a really efficient way to win
against Nejire. She's gotten better at holding on since he first started doing it, but it's clear that all
she can do is stall. Izuku is thankful that she still tries, though. It makes him better, and will make
any future fights against villains much easier.
"Izuku," Nejire says, nudging his shoulder. She looks worried but forces a smile as he looks her in
the eye. "You're getting better. And faster, too. Have you gotten to a higher percentage recently?"
"My max is somewhere between twenty-eight and thirty percent," Izuku answers, sitting down on a
nearby bench between Mirio and Tamaki and grabbing a water bottle. He takes a long, messy sip,
ignoring how some of the water dribbles down onto his tank top and gym pants. "It's hard to get an
exact feel now. Twenty-eight feels fine, but thirty feels too painful. Twenty-nine percent is right in
the middle, but if I use it for too long, I get sore."
"I thought you got stronger," Mirio chimes in. "Your muscles are bigger and more defined than
they were this summer. I can tell that just from looking at the pictures we took on the beach and
then looking at you now. It must feel great to see all the improvement you've made."
"I guess." Izuku shrugs. He failed to save that kid with everything he had at the time, and the
difference from twenty-two to twenty-eight isn't all that much. It's his skill that needs
improvement, not his raw power. He can't just go in and Detroit Smash the kidnappers away.
They've got a complex system and multiple bases, and probably a lot of income, too. Taking them
down will take finesse.
"Whaddya mean you guess?" Nejire sits down on the blue mat in front of him, crossing her legs
and leaning her elbows on her knees. Like him, she's in her gym uniform sans the coat. "You're
growing, which is sweet. It means you'll be a better hero. Heck, a few more months of your training
and you'll probably be in the same class as All Might when it comes to raw power. Not like us
losers down here with our B-list Quirks."
"Yours are all A-class," Izuku snorts. "Except Permeation, which is S-plus. You guys can all make
them a lot stronger and find new ways to use them, just like I can with mine." And the thought that
Izuku will one day be training to make One for All more powerful instead of to wield it without
breaking is overwhelming. What he wouldn't have given to have that kind of strength last
Sunday… "Let's go again," he says, standing and tossing his empty water bottle aside.
"We've been here for two hours and you haven't taken a break longer than a minute." Nejire shakes
her head. "Let's call it a day and go home. Maybe we could watch a movie? It's Saturday—we
should be goofing off."
"Just one more round," Izuku insists, walking to the center of the mat. The whole room is padded,
purpose-built for Quirk fights. There are obstacles, like the bench they were sitting on and support
beams. "And then you guys can go. I'll stay and practice on my own."
"Until when?" Tamaki asks, looking right at Izuku's face. "How long will you be here and how
hard will you work?"
Izuku shrugs. "As long as I need."
"That's not an answer," Mirio says carefully.
"We're not going to leave you here so you can go until you drop, Izuku," Nejire adds. "You need
rest. Let's just back up and go see a movie. Please?" Her eyes seem to soften, and she lets her
shoulders droop a little. Her face changes from something serious and firm to an impossibly soft
expression. It's obvious he's being manipulated by Nejire's over-the-top cute face, so he looks
away. It doesn't solve anything since Mirio is doing it too, and Tamaki… Tamaki just looks tired
and worried, but it's enough to tug on his heartstrings.
"One more. And then we can go wherever."
"Just one," Nejire repeats, standing up and rolling her shoulders. "No matter what, this is the last
one. There's not an excuse in the world for us to go any longer."
"Sure," Izuku shrugs. "Mirio, Tamaki, you guys too. I want to do another three-on-one." Mentally,
he gives One for All a poke, making sure it's ready for another round. The warnings it gives are
invaluable in combat, and it's started to give them more and more frequently. Izuku doesn't know if
it's Danger Sense or the Quirk being more aware and telling him what it sees, but either way it
works.
"Ready?" Mirio asks, falling into a fighting stance. Tamaki stands behind him, posture as loose as
usual, but Izuku has known for a while that he's ready to move in an instant. Nejire stands to his
back, ready to let off a blast or duck under an attack.
"Yeah. Go!"
Izuku ducks under a golden spiral, bending over backwards to catch sight of Nejire lifting off into
the air. His hands make contact with the mat, and he swings his legs as hard as he can, directing a
strong gust of wind at Mirio as he flips and dodges another spiral. Mirio lets the wind phase
through and sinks into the ground, but behind him Tamaki has to dodge, using an octopus tentacle
to pull himself aside.
Izuku goes for Nejire first, wanting to eliminate her ranged attacks so they won't be a problem later
in the fight. She expects this and easily rolls out of the way of a whip shot from his fist before
countering with a massive but low-powered shot to push him away.
Behind, One for All whispers. Izuku dives to the ground immediately, narrowly dodging Mirio,
who was either thrown by Tamaki or launched from the ground. Hitting the mat with a roll, Izuku
pushes off, aiming to catch Mirio while he's still mid-air. Tamaki blocks him with a trio of massive
tentacles reinforced with clamshells. Izuku is then forced back by another shot from Nejire, this
one intended to knock him out of the air.
Izuku bursts away and latches on to a wall, tiny bits of Blackwhip poking through the skin on his
palm to keep him up. He watches as his three friends rearrange themselves, Mirio in front with
Nejire and Tamaki supporting from his rear. It's a solid formation meant to keep him from getting
in close. They've done it before, but Izuku broke it by diving into the middle of them and taking
away their shots at finishing moves. But they're aware of that weakness now and won't let him
exploit it again. So Izuku has to find another flaw, which is fine. He'll just keep them moving until
an opportunity presents itself.
With a grunt, he kicks off the wall at top speed, aiming himself right at Mirio. The blond boy only
smiles and holds his ground, knowing that if Izuku tackles him, he'll be swamped by attacks and
that Mirio will be able to slip away underground. Izuku knows this, too, and stops short, freezing
mid-air with a burst of Float and then pulling himself to the ceiling with Blackwhip.
The three of them immediately huddle close together, looking up at him from the safety of their
proximity. With a grin, Izuku kicks off, but he doesn't go right down. Instead, he aims for the left,
twisting to hit the floor on his side and letting Blackwhip rip.
It's one of those weird moments where neither of them is in control. Izuku simply tells One for All
that he wants it to do something in that general area, and the Quirk happily obliges.
Strands wrap around limbs, restricting movement and cutting off attacks. Their force of impact is
so great that it sends the three stumbling, even Mirio too caught off guard to react in time. The
whips keep coming, poking through the skin of his arm and beginning to wrap around their torsos.
Izuku figures that this is plenty and decides to pull.
”Honolulu Smash!” Izuku heaves with all of his might, using three of his limbs to generate a
massive amount of force, all of it going into his right arm. On the end of his whips, enough torque
is generated to stun his friends, who barely get a chance to look surprised before they're thrown all
the way across the room. Mirio is lucky enough to activate his Quirk in time to phase through the
wall. Nejire and Tamaki, however, hit it full force.
Izuku winces as they hit the floor, regretting that he used so much force. Going all out like that isn't
what you're supposed to do in a spar and—
"Heads up!" A fist hits his lower jaw, rattling his teeth and sending him stumbling back. Izuku uses
a whip to haul himself up to the ceiling again before Mirio goes for a full combo.
"Why didn't you warn me?" he mutters, watching as his friend waves with a massive smile. One
for All does its equivalent of a shrug. Because I felt like it.
Huffing, Izuku lets himself fall from the ceiling. He aims an obvious faint at Mirio's head and
watches as his foot phases through. Then, with one foot on the floor and another still partially in
Mirio, Izuku flicks off a Delaware Smash, right through the older boy and into Nejire, who had
managed to get back up a few moments prior to press the attack.
Nejire takes the jet of air right in the chest, grunting as it hits before countering with a shot of her
own. Mirio sinks into the floor as Izuku rolls out of the way of twin spirals. He looks around for
Tamaki, but One for All warns of an attack from behind and he's forced to dodge.
Looking for some breathing room, Izuku backpedals. If he has enough space, he can take to the air
without worrying about being attacked mid-jump, so he moves quickly. But then, Mirio launches
out of the ground in a perfect 'Draw me like one of your French girls' position. The fact that he's
wearing nothing but what's basically a speedo doesn't help, and the little wink he does makes
Izuku's jaw drop in shock and confusion.
"Suneater, now!" The force of a speeding truck slams into Izuku's back, the boy too stunned to
react to the warning his Quirk gives. He hits the mat, shaking off whatever thoughts Mirio's pose
put in his head and weaving away from a pair of tentacles. Then, he hears the telltale sign of Nejire
charging up a blast not ten feet above him and he knows he's screwed.
He dodges, but only barely. The edge of Nejire's attack clips him on the lower left part of his back,
shaking his balance. He quickly rights himself, barely doing so in time to dodge a gigantic crab
claw. More golden blasts rain down from above, making it impossible to escape Tamaki's flurry of
attacks. Izuku ducks and weaves, throwing more than a few counterattacks, but Mirio always cuts
in before he can get a good hit in. It's the exact situation he hoped to avoid.
Nejire is protected from engaging in melee by Tamaki, who can take more than a few hits if he's
sufficiently prepared. Mirio stops him from trying anything fancy with his harassing attacks, never
staying in range long enough to be at risk but always forcing Izuku to miss out on key moments.
Izuku tries for one last-ditch effort by letting Blackwhip completely free. It lunges for Nejire and
Tamaki, but instead of backing away or being caught, Nejire blasts the whips and Tamaki goes in
for a tackle.
"Chimera Minotaur!” Izuku is hit with all the force of a raging bull and a half dozen other animals.
Tamaki holds nothing back, wrapping enlarged arms around his waist and driving him into the
floor. The older boy goes for a pin, but Izuku has had way more training for wrestling than Tamaki
has, so he manages to avoid being crushed under the added weight of the manifestations. But he
doesn't escape the grapple.
Izuku desperately tries to free his legs, straining them against Tamaki's arms while pushing himself
with his own arms and looking around to see where the other two went. A shadow forming over
him tells him everything he needs to know, and within milliseconds, Izuku feels a pair of feet
around his neck. Mirio has him in a lock. Technically he could keep fighting, but his windpipe
would've been crushed if this were a real fight, so he relaxes and taps Mirio's leg three times.
The pressure on his neck disappears along with Tamaki's manifestations. He hears Nejire land and
sit. All four of them are panting, and Izuku can feel that his tank top has been completely torn, his
sweaty skin sticking to the mat below.
"Good fight," he hears Mirio say. Izuku only nods in response, looking up at the ceiling. There's
the sound of someone inhaling before a loud noise of disgust.
"We all stink," Nejire says. "Shower before we head out?"
"Yeah. We should see Recovery Girl, too," Mirio adds. "That's a nasty bruise you've got, and
Tamaki, you look a bit stiff."
"Hitting a solid wall will do that to you," Tamaki says, using his arms to push himself off the floor.
"Izuku really didn't hold back with that one."
"Sorry," Izuku says, rolling his head to look at his friend. "I got carried away. I should've dialed the
power level back."
"Nah, it's fine," Mirio insists. "It was a new move, right?" Izuku nods. "Yeah, you hadn't used it on
anyone before; it's totally cool that you went all out."
"You're only saying that because you didn't slam into the wall back-first." Nejire snickers, covering
her mouth with her hand. "And really, Mirio? I get that you needed to distract Izuku, but was that
the only way you could think of?"
"Hey, it totally worked," Mirio defends. Though his bashful smile tells everyone that he's at least a
little embarrassed by it. "Don't knock it till you try it."
"Sure, sure. Next time we fight, I'll drop down from the ceiling in my underwear." Nejire shakes
her head, smiling wide. "'Draw me like one of your French girls, Izuku,'" she says in an over-the-
top falsetto. "Ack, how could you do that with a straight face? Oh wait, your face was hardly
straight—right, Tamaki?"
"It was a good distraction," Tamaki says, looking away from everyone.
"Ooh, very poor choice of words." Nejire's smile widens. "But yeah, I bet it was an amazing
distraction. I'm sure you would've dropped the ball if Izuku wasn't between you and him."
Tamaki doesn't even bother to deny it, or maybe, and probably more likely, he can't find the words
to say. Either way, the silence makes the corners of Izuku's lips twitch up.
"Alright, that's enough of that," Mirio says, more than a little amused. "Should we shower or head
up to the nurse first? Because we clearly need both."
"Recovery Girl won't be happy if we walk into her office covered in sweat," Tamaki points out.
"Shower it is!"
The cold water on his skin feels nice, though he's not as sore as he is tired. His arms hang down by
his side, and his neck has a hard time keeping his head from slumping. Izuku leans against the wall
of his shower stall for support and thinks. Of course, looking down doesn't help him.
His right big toe is missing at the first joint. There's a short nub, but there isn't a nail anymore.
Running and walking is awkward without it, and every now and then, it flares up in pain. There
was talk about a prosthetic, but the doctors said that it would be mostly cosmetic and that he could
just get an implant in his shoes to get the same effect. The implant does work, but it also makes his
right foot heavier, which is really annoying. And on top of that, staying in his shoes for too long
leaves him sore and in pain.
And it looks ugly.
Izuku tries not to think about looks too much—it's just how he was raised. Cheap clothes, a less-
than-ideal diet, and a literal stick-figure made up most of his life. But that missing toe sticks out.
His stomach scar looks rugged, and he often finds himself tracing it, proud of the actions he took to
get it. But every off-balance step he takes, and every shot of pain he feels, is just a reminder that he
failed and that an innocent boy is dead because of him.
With a sigh, he applies the body wash, making sure that he scrubs away all of the sweat. There are
some fresh bruises from today's matches, courtesy of his friends. There are less than the last time
they did this, though, so Izuku knows he's getting better, which is good. He wants to be stronger
than he was last time when he sees Shigaraki again. An extra percent or two, new super moves,
and a higher degree of skill will make sure he walks out of whatever hole the villains are hiding in
without a scratch and with them bound in Blackwhip.
Izuku is the first one out of the shower, drying his hair with a towel and sitting down on a bench.
He puts some pants on before checking his phone. There's nothing new, but he texts his mom that
he's going to see a movie soon.
Suddenly, one of the showers switches off, and Izuku politely looks away as Nejire steps out.
"How's the foot?" she asks, opening up a locker and pulling out a fresh set of clothes.
"Fine," Izuku replies. "I'm pretty much used to it already." Even though he's five feet away and
looking in the opposite direction, Izuku knows that Nejire can smell his lie.
"Mmkay," she says, her tone slightly warning. "I read up about people who've lost body parts, and
there's almost always a side effect—besides the usual loss of balance and stuff, of course. If you
need to talk…"
"Thanks," Izuku says, a bit harsher than he means it. "Sorry, I just—"
"It's fine," Nejire insists, walking over and sitting down next to him. Her hair's in a shower cap, and
some of the water drops down onto Izuku's arm. "Whoops." She quickly brushes it away with the
towel around her shoulders, her fingers brushing yet another scar. They linger for a bit.
"One of the villains had a knife down there," Izuku says, catching the silent question. "He got me
once."
"Was the blade clean?" Nejire asks, pushing away and leaning forward to look at the straight and
thin line. "A lot of knives criminals use aren't, and they cause all sorts of problems because of it."
"I don't know." Izuku shrugs. "They gave me some antibiotics before they healed me, so it was
fine." He looks over at Nejire for just a half-second before looking away. "Please put a shirt on."
In one of the shower stalls, Mirio roars with laughter, and the sound of a bottle hitting the floor
follows. "You've seen me in a bikini; it's not that different." Nejire chuckles but stands up and
grabs a top anyways, slipping it on and sitting it back down. "And I've seen you shirtless too!"
"That's different," Izuku says, still refusing to look at her. "That's very different."
"Sure," Nejire says, dragging out the word in an obviously sarcastic tone. "Hey wait a minute,
you've seen—"
"Whatever it is, it's different from now." Izuku risks a glance and relaxes upon seeing that she's
fully clothed. "I don't know why. It just is."
Nejire shrugs. "Fair enough." She directs her attention to the occupied stalls. "Are you guys almost
done in there? I want to actually be able to get popcorn at the theater."
"I'm just finishing up," Mirio says, turning off the water. He pokes his head through the curtain.
"Won't be long. Could you guys start looking up movies? I want to know what's there before we
have to buy tickets."
Ten minutes later and they're out of U.A. Of course, it's only after a visit to Recovery Girl, who is
the opposite of welcome and gives them lip every second they're in her office. She still heals them
though, so it's not that bad. And she treats Izuku more politely than usual, which should make him
feel great, but since he knows it's because she thinks he's fragile, it has the opposite effect.
There are a couple of movie theatres in the area, all of them showing a similar set of movies. They
decide on a cookie-cutter action-thriller and load up with popcorn and junk food before watching.
There were a couple other movies that almost made the cut, though. A sequel to a kids movie that
came out when they were all around eight was only decided against because Tamaki saw a family
of five with two infants walk into the theater. There was also a hero movie that caught Izuku's eye.
It was a remake of a remake of an old-school hero movie from hundreds of years ago. The
description talked about a vigilante with a sentient and malicious symbiote hunting down a ring of
drug dealers.
Nejire immediately vetoed it with support from Mirio. It was obvious why they did it, but Izuku
said nothing. He didn't want to see Venom for the reasons they thought. The idea of watching
someone with a similar power as him, even if it was in a basic action movie made for a quick buck,
was appealing. And the poster only made him more interested: a man standing tall with a stern face
as a swirling mass of black engulfed him. It gave Izuku ideas.
But he agrees to see what his friends want to see, only in part because he is outvoted. But as he sits
through the movie and tries to follow the story, he finds that he can't focus on the gigantic screen.
All he can think about is that black suit of living armor and what it would be like to punch
Shigaraki with it.
[x]
The police precinct is as busy as always. Officers keep watch outside while paper pushers and
interns run around trying to keep everyone in whatever loop they need to be in. Criminals and
villains wait in cells grumbling or cursing or crying. Izuku himself talks to one specific person in
the cell, happily listening as they talk about how their case is going to court and that their lawyer is
certain that they'll win.
It's great to see that the system can work and that the police are competent at what they do. The
past week had him a bit annoyed or even mad at how the officer back at the Asui residence was
insistent that the police bring Shigaraki in, but Chance assures Izuku that everyone here is doing
their best to help them.
Of course, Izuku's not here just to talk to Chance. There's a meeting today, one he'd like to be a part
of.
As he walks up the steps from the detention level, Izuku greets a few officers, these ones familiar
with him and the fact that he's technically off-duty. They all try to get him to leave. Subtlety, of
course, but he finds it obvious that they've been told to keep him away. He lets one of the officers
take him to a private conference room and takes a seat. Izuku props his feet up on the table and
takes out his phone. Not two minutes later, the door swings open.
"Problem Child."
"Eraserhead." Izuku shuts off his phone and slips it back into his pocket. He does not take his feet
off the table. "How's it going?"
Aizawa doesn't dignify the question with a response, instead opting to shut the door and lean
against it. "Why are you here?"
"The raid meeting is today," Izuku replies. "A bunch of different heroes and the police are going to
plan the takedown of the child trafficking ring. I want to be a part of it."
Aizawa sighs, his right hand reaching up to tap the bridge of his nose before he forces it back down
to his side. "How did you figure this out?"
"Mirio is an awful liar." Izuku can hear someone suck in a breath from the other side of the door,
along with a light chortle. "He wouldn't look me in the eye for a few days, and when I asked about
his work study, it was obvious that he was on this case. After that, figuring out what day was
easy."
"This is all Nedzu's doing," Aizawa mutters.
"He has been teaching me about how to read people," Izuku agrees. "Though it was your idea to
give me extra lessons."
"You're not going to be a part of this," Aizawa says, ignoring Izuku's statement. It's clear that he
wants to get him out of here and actually have the meeting. "You're not well, your mother will be
worried, and as your teacher I cannot send you into the field knowing that you're at risk."
"At risk for what?" Izuku asks. Aizawa keeps quiet. "Why can't I do this?" he tries again. "I nearly
got them last time, and I know what they're capable of. I can help. And it's only logical that I go,
since I've had direct contact."
Aizawa's face twitches into something slightly angry, but he resumes his neutral expression.
"You're sixteen."
"And Mirio is seventeen," Izuku counters. "That's only a year's difference and he's still going."
"That's diff—"
"Eraserhead, if I may have a word," a voice says from the other side of the door. Aizawa mumbles
a rather rude swear and leans off the door to open it. Sir Nighteye stands in the frame, as clean and
stern as the last time Izuku saw him.
"What." Aizawa looks the taller pro in the eye, his shoulders set.
"Outside," Nighteye says, "away from prying ears. Mirio, entertain your friend."
The two men walk out and Mirio steps in, smiling and waving like he isn't the reason Izuku's here
in the first place. "Hey, man," he says, sitting down across the table. "Fancy seeing you here!"
Izuku can't help but crack a small smile at that, though it quickly disappears. "Yeah, it sure is. Do
you know anything about the operation?"
"Nope." Mirio shakes his head. "Not a thing. Sir might, but me and the sidekicks are in the dark.
It's the same way with Tamaki."
"Tamaki's here too?" Izuku asks, surprised.
"Yeah," Mirio laughs and rubs the back of his neck. "He, uh, I guess he's better at hiding stuff than
me. And it's not that we were trying to lie to you," he rushes to deny. "But… Aizawa's really
protective of you. He didn't want to tell you a thing about this until every single villain was locked
up."
"I'm not fragile," Izuku sighs tiredly. "I know I'm young, but I'm not a kid. I don't need to be
protected."
"I know," Mirio says. "We all know that. But that doesn't stop us from worrying. You've been
down in the dumps for a while, and you've been focusing on nothing but combat for the same
amount of time. It's not fun watching you push yourself like this. Not to mention that it's not good
for you either."
"I can take a break after the raid." Izuku crosses his arms. "After I do what I have to do, I'll do what
Aizawa wants me to do."
"But why does it have to be you?" Mirio asks. "Do you not think we can take care of this?"
"No," Izuku says. "I know you guys can handle this. I just don't think I could live with myself
knowing that I sat by and did nothing."
"I understand."
"Thank you."
Aizawa and Nighteye walk back in moments later, refusing to look at each other. Aizawa looks
tired, more so than he was earlier. Nighteye has an air of smugness, and calmly orders Mirio out of
the room and follows his charge.
"You're allowed to fight," Aizawa says, forcing the words out as quickly as possible. Izuku happily
takes his feet off of the table and leans forward. "But I have one condition."
"Yes?"
"You get therapy after it." Aizawa looks Izuku in the eye, his gaze stern. "And not 'I'm going to
Hound Dog but not saying a word' therapy. You have to actually try to get better. Got it?"
"Sure."
"Good. Follow me."
Aizawa leads him down the hall and into a large boardroom full of heroes, detectives, and officers.
Detective Tsukauchi stands at the front of the room in front of a large whiteboard with a projector
over it. He holds a remote in his hands and raises an eyebrow upon seeing Izuku take a seat
between Mirio and Tamaki, but keeps silent.
"Thank you all for coming," Tsukauchi starts. "The collaboration between heroes and police is
what will make this operation possible, and the participation of all of you will ensure that this goes
smoothly. I've worked with all of you before, and I trust in your skills." The man presses a button
on the remote and the projected image changes. Now instead of a blank white screen, it shows a
map of Japan with three red dots on it in various locations.
"There are our targets," the detective explains. "One in Hosu, one in Tokyo, and the final one in
Osaka. Our goal is to hit all three locations at once and arrest as many of the villains as possible.
Intel suggests that there are international ties, but ending major operations in Japan should put a
stop to the kidnappings and leave the rest disjointed enough for other heroes to clean up the
stragglers."
"And where does this intel come from?" across from Izuku and a few seats to the left, Best Jeanist
speaks. "Can we rely on it?"
"Yes, we can definitely rely on it." The detective hits another button and the image on the board
changes again, this time to a mugshot of a man Izuku recognizes. "Lionel Leo came forward a few
days ago after getting an in-depth look at what the children are being used for. He gave us the list
of locations and an estimate of the number of workers involved. I personally verified his statement
and the man told nothing but the truth."
"Very well." Best Jeanist nods. "You may continue."
"Of course. Now, we don't know when the villains will go out again, but when they do, it will
definitely be in the day. Therefore we'll…"
The briefing takes about a half-hour and leaves all parties involved grimly determined to do their
part in the operation. The reports of what the children are being or will be subjected to leave many
green in the face, but they're heroes, and as such they only take it as another reason not to fail.
After the briefing, Izuku is taken aside by Sir Nighteye, something that makes his pulse quicken.
"I do not agree with All Might on his choice," the man says, voice barely a whisper. "Mirio is far
more worthy of taking up the mantle than you. But I respect your skill and creative use of the
Quirk, along with your willingness to risk it all for a life. Do not make me regret convincing your
teacher to let you go."
Izuku only nods and accepts the offered handshake. He doesn't see how Nighteye's eyes turn a deep
purple and begin to spin.
For all the intensity the briefing brought, the actual night of the raid is relaxed. Izuku sits with
Eraserhead and a half-dozen other pros in the back of a van, watching the streets fly by as they
make their way to the villain hideout, which is a filthy, old factory building with a chain-link fence
around it. Izuku helps the heroes and police over, keeping an eye out for anyone that's not on their
side.
His nerves start to hit when they climb into the roof. One for All anxiously floats around, pushing
against his skin to ask to be let out. Like him, it doesn't like to wait and loathes the dead silence of
the old building.
He wants Mirio there with him, and Tamaki too. Or even Nejire, who's stuck somewhere with
Uwabami. It doesn't really matter; Izuku just misses the comfort a close friend brings right at this
moment.
They clear the roof and head down through the old staircase, Eraserhead first to cancel any
potential abilities and Izuku behind to grab anyone or anything that moves. The pressure of the
heroes and police on his back makes his heart rate skyrocket, and he has to fight to keep from
shaking.
The stairs lead down to a small platform that intersects four catwalks overlooking the massive
floor of the factory below. Their group breaks off, and Izuku goes with Eraserhead towards the
center of the area. Everything is poorly lit, so they tread carefully, stepping over empty bottles and
other bits of trash.
Once they get to what's roughly the center of the area, they stop. Izuku slips on his respirator and
goggles, looking to Eraserhead. The man silently pulls out his phone and types something. A few
seconds later, he puts it away.
"Everyone's in position," he whispers. "We don't know where they're at, though. Hold tight while
someone checks the perimeter of the building."
Izuku nods in response and kneels down on the catwalk, looking down at the floor below. It's
mostly open with a few conveyor belts going from left to right. There's no heavy machinery, but
control panels dot the lines along with stands for whatever is used to make the product.
A few minutes pass in eerie silence. Izuku keeps his breathing quiet and even, and Eraserhead
carefully keeps in touch with the others. But then, almost invisible in the dark, a portal opens.
Izuku takes in a shaky breath as he watches Shigaraki step through. Eraserhead rests a hand on his
shoulder and gently squeezes it. "Wait," he murmurs. "Everyone needs to be ready." Izuku nods,
but his eyes never leave Shigaraki and his unit of henchmen.
"Now," Eraserhead says. Izuku obeys.

A flashbang, given to him by the police department, is thrown downward, right in the middle of the
group of villains. It goes off, Izuku barely affected having closed his eyes and covered his ears.
Both he and Eraserhead jump down in unison, hurling themselves over the rail of the catwalk.
Izuku lets Blackwhip lose and Eraserhead launches his capture weapon.
The henchmen go first, knocked out and tossed aside in the blink of an eye. Eraserhead hits the
ground first and flares his Quirk at Shigaraki and Kurogiri, both villains frozen in shock. Izuku
strikes from above, avoiding his teacher's field of view and pulling the pair towards him. One for
All pushes against him, and Izuku willingly lets it go. A mass of tentacles expands out of his thigh
wraps all the way down his left leg. Grinning, Izuku drives his foot into Shigaraki's gut. The man
vomits.
The villains are bound up tight after that. Kurogiri is held by both Izuku and Eraserhead all the way
back to the station, and Shigaraki has two sets of gloves put on: one with just the pinky and thumb
spots and other with the middle three fingers over that. He also gets a set of metal restraints that go
all the way up to his elbows. The rest are put in simple handcuffs.
The ride back to the station is filled with cheers and happy jokes. The other two raids were also a
success, and forty of the fifty missing children have been saved. But the second everyone is gone
and the villains are thrown in cells, Izuku quietly finds an empty room and cries well into the night,
his mind never once leaving the one he failed to save.
[x]
It's remarkable how trivial most security systems become after you've lived for hundreds of years
and have almost every Quirk imaginable at your disposal.
Short-Circuit for the cameras, Darkness to make sure no one can see anything, Cloak to muffle the
sound, and Mental Pause to make everyone in the entire precinct forget the five-minute window
from 2:56 AM to 3:01 AM. No fancy gadgets, no meticulous planning, nothing but Quirks.
It brings a smile to his face, something that's picked up on by the men beside him.
"You're in quite the mood, Sensei!—wipe that disgusting grin off your face!—it's m-making me
nervous."
"Ah, Jin," All for One says, looking down at the man. For the time being, he has forgone his full
mask, opting for a smaller variant instead. It can't keep him alive for longer than a half-hour, but it
has the added benefit of keeping his mouth on display. "A plan is being set in motion, one that will
have amazing rewards for us down the line. And it all starts with you."
"You know it!—of course it is, I know how good I am." Jin looks around at all of the cells around
them. "Will we get caught down here?"
"Oh, not in a million years," the doctor chuckles. "Lord is quite adept at stealth. They won't even
realize that we were here until… Well, we all know the plan."
"Yes, yes, of course." All for One nods, activating yet another Quirk. Tomura and Kurogiri are a
few feet away. "I'm glad you're both happy with my little scheme, even if your distaste for Tomura
isn't fair, Doctor."
"The boy is worthless, my lord. He—" All for One holds up a hand and stops walking.
"This one." He points to a cell door that, like all the others around it, only has one tiny barred
window at eye level. He places his hand on the door and activates another Quirk. He sinks through
it with his underlings, ignoring how the metal scrapes against his skin.
"Ow! That hurt—you coulda killed me! I'm just a clone, you know!—do it again but harder."
"Silence," All for One orders, approaching his successor. The boy looks up, disbelief in his eyes.
It's quickly replaced by joy.
"Sensei," he greets, trying to bow. It's made impossible by the fact that he's strapped to a chair.
That fact that he hasn't been gagged is a surprise but definitely a welcome one. "I knew you'd come
for me."
All for One doesn't bother with responding. "Twice."
Jin steps forward, muttering the thoughts that run through his broken mind as he measures Tomura.
Eventually, he steps back and activates Double. One Tomura remains in the chair, another stands
beside it. Both look absolutely shocked, and open their mouths at the same time.
"What the f—"
"Doctor," All for One cuts them off. The doctor dutifully moves forwards and slams a needle into
Tomura's clone. It hits the ground out cold. "Good. Now hold still."
All for One reaches out and touches Tomura's clone. With Memory Alter, he changes the events of
the boy's life. It's a simple edit as he only bothers with changing the times where Tomura saw his
face and the last few months. He makes himself look like the bog-standard Japanese salaryman and
makes it seem like he gave up on getting more children after the Ninth destroyed the Okinawa
bunker. Then, with Body Swap, he switches Tomura for his clone.
"Well," All for One says, admiring his handiwork. "I think that this is a success."
"Sensei, I—what—how—"
"Tomura," All for One interrupts, intentionally adding more than a little anger to his tone of voice.
"You've failed me."
Tomura's eyes widen and the boy falls to his knees. "Sensei, it wasn't my fault! That stupid lion
ratted us out!"
"Then pick better henchmen, boy," All for One scolds. "Back in my day, I had an army of meta
users ready to follow me into the lungs of hell. You recruited two-bit murders and a man willing to
do anything to return home. It was a foolish decision and you will be punished for it."
"S-Sensei, please!" the boy begs.
"My mind has already been made up," All for One affirms. "You are banished from Japan until you
become a man worthy of taking my name. You will have nothing but yourself, Kurogiri for
transport, and the clothes off your back. If I find out that you've been caught and ruined Young
Jin's hard work or that you entered my country, I will kill you."
The boy pleads and begs, sobbing as he tugs on All for One's perfect, pressed slacks. It's a pathetic
sight.
"Either return to me a king," the Lord of the Underworld orders, "or die in the process."
The boy is weak. The Ninth is strong. If the legacy of All for One is to survive, then it cannot rely
on the weak. Sometimes tough love is just the right medicine.
Chapter End Notes
Next up: Therapy Arc. Lots of feels to come, most of them good. Whoo. And also
Shigaraki gets the boot because quite frankly he's an awful main antagonist for most of
the series. He'll be back but as more of a threat. In the meantime, enjoy Izuku getting
better as he bonds with Nejire and actually does some chill hero work. The arc after
the next one will be more intense though, and I only plan for the one after this to be
5/6 chapters. We'll see.
I had some people ask when we are in the timeline. The last scene of this chapter takes
place in the early morning of September 2nd. The next school year starts in February.

Familiarity
Chapter Notes
As of July 10, 2021 this chapter has been edited and reformatted by my beta Flauel.
"C'mon, push! Smile through and push! All the way, all the way! I know you can do it!"
The bar digs into his hands, the massive amount of weight being felt throughout his body. His bare
feet rest on the ground, his form and balance near perfect which is an absolute must for a lift like
this. His quads scream out in pain along with his shoulders and core. But he keeps pushing, forcing
himself upright.
"Amazing!" Izuku smiles at All Might, who's buffed up and giving him a big thumbs-up. The
weight of the bar over his head now tells him how much his hard work is paying off. Izuku likes
the feeling much better than the one he felt while trying to get it up there. "You can drop it now."
The weights slam onto the ground with a loud thump and Izuku lets his posture slump. "Two-
hundred-twenty-five pounds," All Might says proudly. He slims down with a puff of smoke and
steps over the bar to pat Izuku on the back. "Keep it up and you'll be doing twice your body weight
at nineteen like me."
Izuku laughs, starting to overcome his fatigue and straightening up. "I dunno about that," he says,
looking down at the bar. "I could barely get that thing above my head."
"Oh, that's a load of nonsense," All Might replies, giving Izuku a hearty slap to the shoulder, which
is bare. "Look in the mirror. You've already come so far since you finished cleaning Dagobah.
Really, I think your arms are twice as thick, and not to mention how powerful your legs are. Our
genetics are different, so you probably won't have my chest or back, but I could definitely see you
having stronger legs than me."
"Thank you," Izuku relents. He's long since gotten used to his mentor's praise, but seeing definitive
proof that it's warranted is a different thing. He doesn't know anyone else who can clean and jerk
that much weight. Maybe Mirio, but he doesn't really talk about weight training a lot.
"There's no need to thank me," All Might chastises. "You and only you are responsible for the
fruits of your hard work—never forget that." He lets his words sink in for a moment. "Now," he
continues, "I know that you're starting therapy today."
"I… yeah," Izuku admits. It's common knowledge at this point, at least in his circle of friends.
Everyone's made it clear that there's no shame in it, but he can't help but feel embarrassed. "I'm
kind of nervous."
"Don't be," All Might says, gently grabbing him by his shoulders. "It's like going to a doctor, only
instead of them giving you medicine or surgery for a busted bone, they help you through the
troubles in your life and mind. And you know that Hound Dog likes you and won't think anything
different of you for needing his services."
"I know," Izuku sighs. "Really, I do, but… what if there's things I can't talk about?"
All Might looks at him carefully for a moment. "I see. Patient confidentiality exists and is very
much enforced, but if word gets out about our secret, then the law won't undo the damage."
"That, and I'm scared to tell someone else about what happened with that thing." Izuku looks away
from his teacher, remembering the burning in pain he felt from the memories of the others.
"My boy," All Might says softly, resting a hand on his left rib cage. "That is a pain that only you
and I know. I was already exhausted when I received that wound, and I barely remember anything
from that particular time frame. But you do, and you felt how the rest died, or at least how they
suffered. You can always talk to me, but if you want professional help…"
All Might reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone. He navigates the screen quickly,
opening a contact. "This is Doctor Amilia Hanson, my therapist from back in the day." He holds
out the phone to show a portrait of a woman with red skin and milky white eyes. Underneath is a
phone number, email address, and a postal code.
"You went to therapy?" Izuku asks.
"Me and Sorahiko both," All Might nods. "After Nana died and we had to flee, we weren't exactly
in the best of mental health. We found her, and she helped us get better and come to terms with
Nana's death. Her Quirk makes it impossible for her to tell another person's secret."
"That's…" Izuku nods, understanding. "I get it. But she's American, right? Or maybe Canadian?"
"She's a Louisiana native, yes, but she moved to Japan a while back. Her office is a ways outside of
Tokyo." All Might puts his phone back in his pocket. "She's usually swamped, but I can get you a
few appointments. Still go to Hound Dog today after school, but save all the One for All things for
her. She'll know what to do."
"Thank you." And he really means it, because if his predecessors felt that much pain—or if that
wasn't the case then if Izuku has to live with those memories—then he's not sure he'll be able to
deal with it by himself.
"It's the least I can do." All Might gives him another pat on the shoulder and pulls away. "Now—"
"A phone call is here! A phone call is here!"
Izuku feels himself start to smile as All Might pulls out his phone again. He's heard that ringtone
plenty of times before, but it never gets old. His smile vanishes when he sees his teacher scowl and
decline the call. The small bit of the caller ID he can make out reads Mirai.
"Who's that?"
All Might sighs and shuts his phone down. "Sir Nighteye. I… he approached you last week, right?"
Izuku nods. "I know what he said, and you shouldn't let it get to you."
"... Okay," Izuku says. "I hadn't really thought of it before. Did he train Mirio to take the Quirk?
Was he supposed to get it instead of me?" And now that he does think of it, it makes him feel
awkward, or disappointed in himself. Is all of his hard work not enough?
"I told Nighteye about you when you showed progress at the beach," All Might answers. "Not the
day I found you—because, if I'm honest, I wasn't completely sure about giving you the power until
the first month of training was through. But when I told Nighteye, he… he didn't approve. He still
doesn't. He thought that some random Quirkless middle school student couldn't handle the
responsibility. So he started to train someone else to take it."
"That's… Mirio—Nighteye shouldn't have taught Mirio just because he thinks he should take the
Quirk," Izuku says. "That… It feels wrong. Mirio is amazing, and maybe he could do better with it
than me, but. I don't know. He deserves someone who wants him to be the best he can be, not
someone who wants them for a reason they don't even know about."
"I agree, and that's another reason he and I don't get along anymore." All Might looks at Izuku, but
not in the boy's eyes. It feels like he's gazing at something far beyond the room. Izuku holds still,
unsure of how to react. "After I defeated All for One, he was there in the hospital. He told me to
call it quits; I said no. He said that I would die an awful death if I kept going, and I yelled at him
for looking into my future. That is the reason why we split.
"And he's done the same to you," he continues. His expression refocuses, and his cobalt blue eyes
bore into Izuku's greens. "Did you touch him in any way that day?"
"I shook his… hand—that's how he does it!" Izuku says, stepping back in shock. "Skin to skin
contact. And… he saw..."
"He needs eye contact, too." There's anger in All Might's eyes now, but he keeps it reserved.
Izuku's not sure if it's a good thing for him to keep it bottled up, but he's not exactly an expert on
the matter. "That man is very good at what he does. It's just a damn shame that he uses it to fulfill
his selfish desires."
Izuku holds his tongue, knowing it's not his place to speak. "And he's been calling me nonstop,
saying I should take the power back and kick you to the curb. He didn't even try to get me to
replace you with Mirio, which is what he did the last time we had an actual conversation."
"What did he see?" Izuku asks. He can't help it; who could? Knowing the future is such a powerful
and amazing thing. Maybe he can use it to his advantage.
"I didn't listen to him after the second sentence out of his mouth," All Might says. "But he said that
he saw you turn and take another's hand. As ominous as that sounds, you have to realize that the
further into the future he looks, the more fuzzy it gets. For all we know, it could be your spouse's
hand and you could be turning to lift your child."
"Okay." Izuku bites his lip, still worried and curious. "But—"
"Try not to think about anything related to that man, Izuku," All Might suggests. "I can forgive him
for worrying over me and wanting the best successor for One for All as possible, but him invading
your privacy, using his Quirk on a minor in a non-combative situation, and then having the
audacity to call you unworthy…" He shakes his head. "Mention it to your therapist if it bothers
you, preferably Ms. Hanson over Hound Dog."
"Alright," Izuku agrees. "I'm still not sure how I do feel about it, though. He's… he's Sir Nighteye,
a living legend like you. He thinks I'm unworthy, but you think I am, and—"
"His opinion doesn't matter," All Might says, cutting him off before his rambling can truly begin.
"Amazing as he is, he has not held One for All or been in combat against All for One. I know
you're worthy. Gran Torino knows you're worthy. You know you're worthy. And the Quirk itself
acknowledges you as its user. That's enough."
Izuku feels his eyes start to sting, and he lets out a soft sniffle. "Thank you."
"Again with the waterworks?" All Might reaches up and brushes away a tear with his thumb. His
tone is anything but harsh. "I thought we went over this. If you cry too much, then no one will
respect you."
"All Might," Izuku laughs between his sniffling, wiping away more of the tears with his own
hands. "I can't help it. It just happens sometimes."
All Might sighs fondly and shakes his head. Gently, he pulls Izuku in and presses the boy's
forehead to his shoulder. "It's fine, my boy. Tears mean you're feeling things, and that is always a
beautiful thing."
[x]
Lunch Rush swiftly puts his order together, adding the amount of seasoning he usually gets to the
meat and making a show of pouring his water. The tray of food is slid down the line, and the hero
waves the next person forward before Izuku can say thank you.
Not that it stops him from thanking the person who makes a third of his meals. Lunch Rush has
always, well, rushed everything. Feeding the entirety of U.A is no small task, even if they work
with a small army of assistants. But the food is always good no matter how fast it's made. A Quirk
is at work, obviously, and Izuku's always been curious as to exactly what Quirks are being used
and how they're being used. All attempts to find out have been met with failure, and it's all still a
mystery.
But Izuku will find out one day. He just knows that the answer is interesting, and there's no way
he'll let Lunch Rush keep it a secret.
"Are you plotting against the lunch staff again?" Nejire asks as the two of them grab a set of
chopsticks. Mirio and Tamaki are a bit ahead of them and have already sat down at their usual
table.
"No," Izuku denies. Because it's not really plotting if he's not intending to enact a plan. All he
wants is to ask Lunch Rush a few questions and receive honest answers back. The fact that he's
considering sneaking in after class does not make his plan a plot. Right? "I was just thinking about
how good the food looks, that's all. The ingredients they use must be better than what you can get
at a supermarket. Do you think they have some kind of deal with a company?"
"Lunch Rush isn't going to let you peek in on the kitchen while they work," Nejire says, somehow
knowing exactly what Izuku's thinking. "Which means you'd have to sneak in there or do some spy
stuff and set up a camera. Do you think Aizawa would be happy if you did that?"
"No."
"Exactly, so you'll just have to live with not knowing." Nejire leads him over to the table and sits
down. Izuku sits to her left and greets Mirio and Tamaki before taking a bite of food.
"You've got more on your plate than usual," Mirio notes. "Almost as much as Tamaki."
"I'm on a new diet," Izuku explains. "The more muscle you have, the more calories you burn,
which means I need to eat more as I grow. And, uh, my mom thinks I'm going to grow again."
"Why?" Nejire asks. "I mean, you already put on three or four inches in a couple months this year.
I feel like having back to back growth spurts is a little ridiculous. And unfair," she adds. "I haven't
grown since middle school. You and Mirio both shot up your first years. At least Tamaki is going
to stay short."
"I'm not short," Tamaki sighs. "I'm perfectly average. And Mirio's always been tall. It's just gotten
worse since we started high school."
"You say 'gotten worse' like it's a bad thing," Mirio chuckles. "I really don't see a problem with
being tall. I mean, Sir's, like, two meters, and All Might is even taller. Being tall is a sign of
greatness."
"Miruko is short," Izuku points out. "And Hawks is around my height. I don't mind being short so
long as I can use all of my Quirk one day."
"Yeah, but Miruko can't reach the top shelf, now can she?" Mirio points to Izuku with his
chopsticks with a slightly smug expression.
"Don't let her hear you say that," Izuku warns. "I don't think she'd let you off easy."
"Oh, absolutely," Mirio agrees. He quickly looks over his shoulder, miming fear. "You don't think
she's here right now, though, right? Am I about to get a rabbit's foot to the back of my head?"
"Not unless Tamaki had rabbit stew earlier." Nejire looks at the boy in question. "Did you?" she
asks. "Because I don't think I've ever seen you use rabbit in a fight. You should try it some time!
Ooh, or a snake—no, no, a scorpion! Have you ever tried goat?"
"I haven't eaten any of those things," Tamaki says, shaking his head. "But that might change soon."
"Why's that?" Izuku asks.
"I'm transferring from Best Jeanist's agency," Tamaki replies. He looks as unsure as usual, but
there's an air of comfort to him. "Jeanist liked my skills for some reason but didn't like how I acted.
So he recommended me to the BMI Hero: Fat Gum."
"Hey, that's great!" Izuku exclaims. "Fat Gum is an amazing hero and the perfect fit for you! You'll
get to try all sorts of new food, and he's really, really nice. Just try not to beat yourself up too much,
okay? I'm sure Best Jeanist thinks you're amazing. His agency is just… strict compared to others or
even school."
"Mirio said the same thing." Tamaki looks down at his lunch trays, which have a wide variety of
foods in large quantities. He usually doesn't eat so much, but there's intensive training later in the
afternoon. "I just hope I can keep it together. It'll be a new agency with new people..." He trails off
and shudders at the thought.
"It'll all be fine," Mirio says, resting a hand on Tamaki's shoulder. "They'll love you there because
you're amazing like that."
"Tamaki's not the only one with a new agency," Nejire speaks up, distracting from the emotional
mush going on right in front of everyone. "I managed to get out of my contract with Uwabami! I
applied to a bunch of different agencies yesterday, but I haven't heard back from anyone yet. I'm
hoping to start another work study before October."
"What agencies did you apply to?" Izuku asks. "And don't they all have to be school-approved?"
"They do," Nejire nods. "But it's not as exclusive as it sounds. There's agencies with four heroes
total that are approved. I sent out my resume to all of the top ten that would accept work study
students, plus Ryukyu and a few others I thought would be a good fit. I don't expect to start
working with Hawks or anyone crazy like that, but it's good to know if they'd accept me or not, you
know? Anyways, I want to work for Ryukyu. She knows what she's doing and doesn't seem strict
like Best Jeanist is."
"I think she'll accept you." Izuku sets down his chopsticks and grabs a fork. "You're really good at
being a hero, and even if you haven't gotten a lot of real action recently, a solid pro like Ryukyu
will be able to see it. I just wish I could keep going on patrols myself."
"Nope, none of that." Nejire leans back in her seat and grabs Izuku by the arm, forcing him to look
at her. "You're getting therapy. Don't worry about patrols or hero work. Focus on getting better,
yeah? You'll be back out there in no time." Izuku nods wordlessly. "Good. Now eat. I want to get to
class early!"
The rest of the school day passes as usual. Izuku trains in combat and rescue with his friends and
finishes up in the design studio showing Power Loader some new ideas for his costume. They're
nothing special—just some extra openings for Blackwhip to come out of that are reinforced. He
wants to try out the idea he got from the movie poster again, and if it becomes another piece of his
arsenal, then he wants to make sure there's something on his costume for it. And it should keep the
Quirk from breaking through his suit in too many places, which is a concern now that he's getting
kind of close to thirty-five percent.
As much as Izuku would like to stay in the studio drawing up whatever ideas pop into his mind, he
knows that he can't. He has a promise to Aizawa, and his mom, and… well, just about everyone he
cares about to go to therapy. So ten minutes before his appointment, he packs up his bag and treks
across campus.
There's a whole building dedicated to the teachers' offices. It's four stories tall and almost entirely
made of windows. The door is well-polished glass, and the lobby doubles as the break room. Izuku
passes by Midnight as he walks through, waving politely before getting on an elevator. He hits the
button marked Floor 4 and taps his foot as the doors close.
He walks down the hall and stops in front of the third door on the right. Private Counseling, it
reads. Izuku's seen it before, every day for the past few weeks. But the last time he went in, he had
the intention of not talking. He said hi to Hound Dog, told the teacher his day was good, and then
clammed up. The pro didn't seem to mind, really, and simply let him work on school things while
occasionally trying to ask a question.
Looking back, it's embarrassing and makes him unsure of walking in. Would Hound Dog be mad
at him? The man is almost always somewhat harsh and abrasive, but Izuku knows it's friendly, and
he doesn't want to find out what that aggression would be like if it were genuine. There's only one
way to find out, though, so Izuku gingerly knocks on the door. "Get in here," the man says. Izuku
twists the knob and steps over the threshold.
"Oh, look, you actually showed up."
"Hi, Hound Dog." Izuku waves, setting his bag down by the door and shutting it behind him. He
takes a seat on the couch and looks the room over. It's toeing the line between cramped and cozy,
with a big plush couch, a few armchairs, a coffee table, and a desk. The window runs floor-to-
ceiling and wall-to-wall, providing lots of natural light. The carpet is fuzzy, and cute paintings of
dogs decorate the walls.
"Eraser told me you're actually going to try today." Hound Dog doesn't even bother with greeting
Izuku back and leans forward in his chair. The muzzle he usually wears is off, and he's forgone his
hero costume for a pair of tattered blue jeans and a ragged flannel. He's not snarling either, though
Izuku knows that it means he's focused on doing his job and not striking fear into anyone who tries
to skip class. "Did he lie to me?"
"No," Izuku says. He sinks into the couch, not comfortable with lying down but perfectly fine with
having bad posture. "Part of the deal was that I talk to you instead of what I was doing before."
"That's a very vague way of saying 'I threw a tantrum until I got my way but at least I'm man
enough to follow through on the deal.'" The pro rolls back in his chair and leans down. He comes
back up with a coffee maker and a jug of water. "How was your day?"
"Good. I maxed out on the clean and jerk this morning, and classes were as fun as usual," Izuku
recalls. "Oh, and I had breakfast with my mom."
"You lift weights six days a week, right?" Hound Dog asks as he plugs in the coffee machine and
pours the water in the top. He adds some grounds and hits the on button.
"Yeah," Izuku replies.
"And how does lifting make you feel?"
"Fulfilled," he says instantly. "Even after a rough day, I feel like I've done something worthwhile
when I walk out of the gym. It also helps wake me up, and on the days I don't do it, I feel off."
"That's mostly normal." Hound Dog pulls out a thermos from under his desk along with a small
pack of sugar cubes. "Humans are meant to be active, so when we work out, we get a big hit of
dopamine. You're just so used to it that when you don't feel it, you don't feel quite right. If you
want, talk to your trainer about working out seven days a week. He'll probably have you go easier
than you are now, but you'll still get that hit every morning. What was your max this morning?"
"Two-twenty-five," Izuku recites. "Er, sorry, that's around a hundred and two kilos." All Might
likes to use imperial measurements. The first time Izuku heard him ask how many miles away he
lived, he almost had a brain aneurysm, but now he's used to doing the conversions.
"And are you proud of that?" Hound Dog opens his thermos and looks inside. He takes a whiff and
flinches back but places the container by the coffee pot anyways.
"Yeah. I used to be really skinny, so being able to lift that much above my head feels amazing."
Izuku watches as the coffee starts to leak from the brewing machine into the pot below. A relaxing
gurgling sound accompanies the drops of dark liquid.
"Good. You should be proud of that." Hound Dog taps the glass of the machine, causing the coffee
to fall faster. Now that Izuku is looking closer, he can tell that it's old and well used. "How often do
you eat breakfast with your mother?"
"Two or three times a week. I wish it was more, but sometimes her shifts make it impossible."
"What does your mother do for work?"
"She does custodial work at a few buildings downtown. Her work hours are weird, but we usually
have time together every day."
"What did you do in your classes today?"
"The usual. I'm getting pretty good at English, so Present Mic is having me read a book in the
language. I turned in a paper for my literature class, and Cementoss really liked my work. My
lesson with Nedzu was about coding, which is really interesting. And then for hero stuff, we
practiced fire scenarios and fought robots for a few hours. I'm still kind of sore from it."
"At least you're not slacking in your schooling. Coffee?" Izuku looks over to see Hound Dog
pouring some into his thermos.
"No thank you, I prefer tea."
"That's Nedzu's doing, isn't it?" Izuku nods. "Figured. That old bastard can't get over his hot leaf
juice. Do you like learning?"
"I… yeah," Izuku says, caught off guard by Hound Dog's rude comment about the principal. "I
mean, who doesn't?"
"No one; some people just hate how they're being taught. Do you feel tired at the end of the day?"
"Yes. I usually work on some school things when I get home after training, and then I eat and
pretty much go straight to bed."
"Do you dislike feeling tired at the end of the day?"
"No? I mean, muscle soreness isn't fun, but it's a good kind of tiredness. I usually feel accomplished
when I lay down to sleep."
"What do you do on your days off?"
"Read about Quirks, maybe look at hero forums or Twitter. I usually hang out with my friends a
little."
"How do you feel after days like that?"
"Fine. Not tired, but I don't think I have that same kind of satisfaction that I do after a school day."
"I see. Do you think you need this therapy?" Izuku stares at Hound Dog for a moment. "Be as
brutally honest as possible. You won't hurt my feelings," the man presses.
"Maybe," Izuku says after a little bit of thinking. "I think that I'm okay to work, but there's some
things I just can't get out of my head. And I know they're bad things."
"Okay," Hound Dog says. "Thank you for coming to see me. Aizawa and the rest will be happy
that you did this. Come back tomorrow and we'll talk some more."
"That's it?" Izuku asks, more than a little shocked. "It was barely"—he looks at the clock—"a half-
hour! I didn't think—"
"It's the first day, kid," Hound Dog chortles. "I'm not going to pick your brain. When you started to
lift weights, did you start with the clean and jerk? Or did you do kettlebell swings and squats to
build up to it?"
"I built up to it," Izuku answers. "You can't rush that sort of stuff because if you go to lift heavy
and your form is bad, then you could be hurt pretty badly."
"It's like that. You ignored me for a while, Midoriya, and while it was immature, I respected it. I
knew that you weren't ready to talk. Now you are, but we'll start slow. Now get out of my office
before I have to chase you! There's other patients behind you, you know!"
[x]
Lionel knows he's fucked. There's no way around it, really, and he's not so much of an idiot to hope
for a way out. But that's fine. He made his bed and he fully intends to lie in it. So long as young
Nala is safe, he's fine with his life. Being prosecuted by the Japanese even though he should be
given to Nigerian officials? Whatever. The harshest possible sentence even though he pleaded
guilty and turned Shigaraki in? Infuriating from a moral standpoint, but fine in the grand scheme of
things. Ninety-nine years in a maximum-security prison without parole? He'd have a roof over his
head and three meals a day for all of that time. So long as Nala is alive and back home, he can
suffer in a box for the rest of his life.
"Get in the fuckin' van, you animal!"
Of course, taking a rifle butt to the back of his skull when he can't even fight back is awful, but
Lionel doesn't react and remains upright. He takes some satisfaction in the way the officer swears
at him as he walks up the steps without a word.
Lionel's been arrested before, but not like this. He has six pairs of handcuffs going all the way to
his elbows, a weight wrapped around his upper body, a muzzle, and cuffs around his ankles. Japan
has enough money to restrain him like this but not enough to track down villains who've kidnapped
fifty children without the help of a traitor. It's almost funny enough to make him laugh. Almost.
The ride is rough. Every high-security prison in Japan except for the world-famous Tartarus is in
the middle of the countryside, so it's not a surprise that he's being jostled as the van rolls over
rough backroads. The officers in the back with him hold their guns tight and ready to aim at him
the whole way. Lionel considers twitching to see their reactions, but he decides against it. It's a
good way to get a bullet to the head, and… does he want that? He considers for a moment. No, he'd
rather live in prison for a while. Maybe one day, after he's been forgotten by the criminal
underworld, he'll break out and try to get back home again. He could find Nala and see how much
she's grown. Yes, that sounds much better than dying on the way to prison because of some petty
joke.
His plans go wrong when the van sharply turns and hits something before rolling into its side. The
officers crash into Lionel, cursing as they try to get up. Someone manages to open the door, and
moonlight trickles in. The men get out one by one, weapons trained and safeties off. Lionel feels
his heart sink. It's obvious what's happening.
There's a flash of light and a volley of automatic gunfire that rattles his ears. Then screams of pain
and fear, followed by bodies hitting the floor and silence. Lionel struggles against his restraints,
but he knows it's futile. Even if he broke out, he'd surely die fighting, though that would be better
than what's going to happen.
Something walks up to the back door of the van and pulls the doors all the way off its hinges.
Lionel's gut turns over as a six foot beast with blue skin and an exposed brain grabs him by the
shoulders and drags him out into the night.
"Really, I should be thanking you." It's the voice of Sensei, but when Lionel looks, the man's face
is completely scarred over and the man (is he a man? The air of death and the stink of corpses that
hovers around him makes Sensei feel like a monster) only has a mouth. "Tomura needed that wake-
up call. If I were a good man, I'd let you free.
"But I'm not a good man. In fact, I'm quite selfish." Sensei leans down and cups Lionel's face with
a hand. Lionel tries to scream, but the muzzle keeps his mouth clamped shut. "Hmm, mutant type
with extra strength, enhanced vocal ability, senses, and reflexes. You'll make a fine pet."
The last thing Lionel sees is Sensei's feral grin and the snarling mouth of the beast that killed the
guards.
Chapter End Notes
I swear that this arc isn't going to be dark, that ending scene just needed to happen. The
next few chapters will all be happy. There will be mild feels, but nothing like what
happened in the last arc.
Anyways, y'all have no idea how tempted I was to post an April fool's chapter. Like, I
made a new doc, outlined what would happen, but then I chickened out. If you want to
know what would have happened in the chapter, just ask and I'll tell you.
There's also some more good news! Another class 1-A member will be prevalent in
this arc. I won't spoil who, but it should be easy to guess from context clues as this
progresses. I know you guys are itching for Midoriya-Senpai! content and believe me,
I have some fun plans for Izuku's first year, but it'll take some time before we get
there. Have patience, my dear readers. Cheers!
Fulfillment
Chapter Notes
As of July 10, 2021 this chapter has been edited and reformatted by my beta, Flauel.
He's standing in his kitchen, patiently waiting with a glass of strong alcohol in his hands. He knows
he shouldn't be drinking, but it's the only way to stop the impending sense of death from driving
him up the wall. A strong gust of wind blows past his house, rattling the picture frames and
causing the building to moan dangerously. Tree branches tap on the wall in an off-kilter rhythm
that does little to settle his fried nerves.
Quietly, he sets his glass down on a coaster and walks over to look at one of the pictures. He feels
his heart twist as he sees his husband (what?), and his eyes linger on his once slim stomach (that
can't be right). He used to be so beautiful back then. Lush hair, well-built muscles, and a proud
strut. Now he can't even get up in the morning without vomiting. It's disgusting.
He hates the house he has to live in because it's not even a house. The damn thing can barely stand,
and the lights flicker every time thunder strikes. Part of him hates his husband for it. The politics,
the cloak and dagger tactics, the running, the hiding, the shitty place of living, and just about
everything, really. But that wasn't his intention, and they would have never done this to him.
Not that it makes the night any warmer or his stomach less empty. With a scowl, he cracks open
the pantry. Year-old cereal, mushy bananas, and a pack of cigarettes. He grabs the cereal and the
bananas, and leaves the cigarettes to stay. He may be drinking, but even someone close to death
has standards.
There's no milk, so he ends up eating the cereal dry or mashed up with the bananas. Whoever used
this place before him had weird tastes. Top shelf liquor left behind with stale Lucky Charms and
rotting fruit. Not that he's complaining. Food is food and he's really hungry.
"Drinking while pregnant? And here I thought my brother knew how to pick them." He doesn't
even bother turning around when he hears the overly cultured voice from behind. Instead, he
knocks back the rest of his drink and shoves a fistful of cereal into his mouth.
"Get on with it."
"Oh, darling.” He flinches at the way he says his name, the tone of voice sending fear down his
spine. "Do you really think I'm here for petty murder? I'm in my nice suit, and getting blood on
these shoes would be a sin."
"That hasn't stopped you before."
The man chuckles and steps closer, and the stink of corpses fills his nostrils. Instinctively, he
activates his Quirk, shoulders broadening and feet becoming too big for his shoes. "As sassy as
always. I still can't believe you fell for a weakling like my brother."
"He had twice the amount of bravery that you will ever have," he spits. "Even in death, he will
have more honor than you."
"How rude." The man draws closer, and he can feel when he starts to reach for his shoulder.
"Young women like you should learn to hold their tongue." Before the hand can make contact, he
spins around and turns his Quirk on as much as it can go. He throws a powerful hook at the man's
face, but it's not strong enough. He's put on weight and is simultaneously malnourished. What feels
like a stone sits in his stomach, and he's been throwing up all day. The alcohol doesn't help either,
and so his punch fails to land.
"How unsightly." A hand wraps around his neck, forcing him back up and shoving him into a wall.
"You used to be so strong, ripping other fighters to shreds in the ring. Now look at you. A slave to
a dead man who sacrificed himself for nothing. You should be ashamed of yourself."
He spits in the man's face. "My love does not make me a slave; it makes me strong. Your brother
deserved a long and happy life, and you ripped that from him! You killed him with your own bare
hands!" He jerks forwards, trying to crash his forehead into the man's nose, but something makes
them freeze in place.
"The hands were from a gorilla mutant, actually." The man laughs like it's some kind of joke, but
all he can feel is fear and disgust. "And what a textbook hero you are. Unfortunately for you, the
power of love only works in manga series.
"Now, before I kill you, I simply must know." The hand around his neck tightens, crushing his
windpipe. He tries to struggle, but he can't move an inch. "Why did you try to hide? Was it to
deliver the baby? I would have found you before you were due, and on the off chance my niece or
nephew was born, I'd find them easily. You clearly have no regard for your life if you fought as
poorly as that. What was your reason for running from me?"
"Like any sane person needs a reason to run and hide from a bastard like you."
"A pity. I really was curious." Casually, like he’s taking out the trash or reading a quarterly report,
All for One transforms his right hand into a knife. "Oh well, I suppose the secret will die with
you." The knife plunges into his stomach, and Izuku wakes up.
It's dark, and that immediately sends him into a panic. His arms flail around wildly, and he pats
himself down. He's not pregnant, there's no knife in him, and he feels alert. It doesn't calm him
down in the slightest. In fact, it only makes him panic more. It's that thing from the bunker back?
He readies his Quirk, waiting for an ambush, but nothing happens. In the back of his mind, One for
All stirs. No danger, dumbass, it says. Izuku swallows thickly and reaches for the lamp on his
nightstand.
The light helps him a little, and Izuku sits up in bed, staring blankly at the wall. His breathing is
still labored and his pulse refuses to slow. He tries some breathing exercises, but they do nothing.
Out of fear, he checks himself again. No knife, no fat; just hard, sweaty muscle. He looks over to
his window next and shivers when he sees that the curtains are open. Quickly, he gets up and
closes them before flopping back down in bed.
He's cold, mostly due to his sweat, but also because of the change in temperature. Fall is creeping
closer, and he'll have to start wearing more layers soon. A look at the clock reveals that it's one in
the morning. He'll have to get up and start his day in just over four hours.
With a sigh, he draws the covers back up and rests his head on his pillow. He's too tired to think
about what that dream meant. Even if he feels wide awake and alert, he can't make the connection.
He knows it means something, though, something important.
He turns off the lamp and curls up under the comforter. Tomorrow—no, later today he'll think
about it. Hopefully he feels sharper when he wakes up again. His run should be the perfect time to
contemplate the dream.
Izuku never falls back asleep. It's just his luck, really. No matter how much he tosses and turns or
tries to count backwards from one hundred, he can't drift off. He feels tired—downright exhausted,
even—the whole night, but his eyes refuse to stay shut. That thing could be lurking around, waiting
to force the memories back into his mind. The dream could come back, and Izuku would be stuck
in another person's body as they lived out their last moments.
When his alarm goes off, he lets it blare for a full minute before turning it off. The sun peeks
through the crack in his curtains, happy and eager for the day to start just like he isn't. His uniform
and school bag hang off the handle of his closet, mocking him as they tell him to get ready.
With a sigh, Izuku rolls out of bed. His eyes feel sunken in, and he just knows there are massive
bags under them. He slaps his face a few times to try to make himself more alert. When that doesn't
work, he opens the curtains and takes in a face full of sun. It only makes him feel worse.
He forces down the glass of water on his nightstand and slips into some running gear. Stumbling
out of his room, Izuku forces himself to keep awake. Now that he's out of bed, his body is
screaming for him to lay down and pass out. But he can't. He has a whole day to get through.
The run is awful. Every stride he takes feels like a hammer blow to the bottom of his feet, and
every time he stops at a crosswalk, his heart continues to sprint in his chest. He runs slower than
usual, and yet his breathing is much more labored.
Izuku ends up having to cut his run short by a few kilometers to make it to the gym on time. He
shuffles up the steps and opens the door with heavy arms. He fumbles for the light switch and
blinks when the artificial lights attack his eyes.
His workout is awful. Somewhere between loading up the bar for bench pressing and lying down
on the bench, Izuku gets a headache. Every strain on his body makes his skull throb, and his
muscles scream at him to stop. But he powers through, doing his usual 2x20 set before resting and
getting ready for curls. That exercise goes terribly too, with Izuku having to take weight off before
the second set and resting for much longer than usual.
After suffering through the rest of his workout, Izuku drinks a protein shake, gasping for breath in
between sips and feeling dizzy when he finishes. His stomach feels like a lump of lead when he
walks out of the door, and it's only by sheer force of will that he jogs back home and gets in the
bathroom to clean up.
His shower is cold at first, like it usually is, but the sting of the droplets hitting his flesh makes him
grit his teeth in pain and crank up the heat. The room fills with steam, and Izuku slumps against the
wall, enjoying the warmth the water gives. Cold showers are better for the body, but nothing can
feel as good as the heat sinking into him. It almost makes him late, and he has to scramble to get
out and towel off.
He gets dressed next, not quite tucking in his shirt right and barely trying to tie his tie. His mom
frets as he forces down his breakfast and tries to get him to take the day off school. But he can't.
He has training and therapy and a whole bunch of other projects that need to get done. He walks
out the door with slumped shoulders and a hung head, and nearly nods off on the train.
After getting off, he walks up to U.A's gates and checks in. The guard that's always there looks at
him weirdly but doesn't say a word as he passes. Classroom 1-A feels miles away, and by the time
he gets there, Izuku can only slump down on his desk. His backpack hits the floor, and he feels his
cheek stick to the hard surface.
His body wants to sleep. His mind wants to sleep. Izuku doesn't. He ignores every instinct telling
him to lie down and pass out, and forces himself to sit upright. There are a few minutes before the
bell, so he pulls out a notebook and a pencil. Maybe he should try to write about the dream? But
what if it was about One for All? Actually, there probably isn't an if in that equation. There's a
minuscule chance that it was a random dream, and everything felt too real and clear for it to be
anything other than a memory.
He settles on doodling a picture of All Might instead, drawing the man in a business suit as he
strikes a bodybuilder's pose. His tired brain seems to give up about halfway through, and Izuku
ends up going from drawing All Might to Toshinori instead, the whole sketch looking wrong and
off. The man on the page is caught between his muscle form and his skinny form, with floppy
bangs, a broad chest, skinny arms, and misshapen legs. The smile is hollow, and the eyes aren't
expressive.
Izuku shuts his notebook a few seconds before the bell rings. He waits for Aizawa patiently and
greets the man when he walks in right as the bell rings. Or at least he thinks he does. His mouth
doesn't want to cooperate with him, and his mind is so fuzzy with exhaustion that he's not sure if he
said good morning or great muscles.
"How much sleep did you get last night?" Aizawa asks. The man kneels in front of Izuku's desk
and looks the boy in the eye with worry.
Izuku blinks slowly. Aizawa's eye bags distract him for a moment, and his answer goes from the
truth to something much more snippy. "About as much as you."
Aizawa sighs and stands back up. "There's no way you got more than six and a half hours," he
says. "You look like you got around three. Go home and get more. Don't bother coming back
today, or tomorrow, either."
"I can work!" Izuku insists. He gets out of his chair but nearly collapses onto the floor. Aizawa
helps him back up and forces him to sit down again. "Really, I'm alright!"
"I thought Hound Dog was talking to you about overworking," Aizawa says. "You've been
listening to what he says, right?"
"I have! But we haven't talked about a lot. I just tell him about my day and then he asks about how
I feel." Izuku reaches for his backpack. "Can I head up to Nedzu?"
"Absolutely not. In fact." Aizawa reaches into his pocket, pulls out his phone, and types something.
"Your classes have been canceled for the day. Go home and sleep."
"But I can work," Izuku tries again. "Please?"
"I can't undo this," Aizawa says, showing Izuku his phone. "You have the next two days off. No
ifs, ands, or buts about it. Now go. Home."
Tiredly, Izuku accepts his fate and packs up to leave. Aizawa watches him and, when he's finished,
walks him out of the door. They don't go more than five feet when Izuku collapses again. It's clear
that there's no way he can make it to the train station and then his apartment. Not that it'll stop him
from trying.
"Sleep in the classroom," Aizawa orders, dragging him back inside. "I'll wake you up after a few
hours and then you'll have to go home, preferably to get more sleep."
"I can walk," Izuku huffs, trying to pull away from his teacher. "I just… need a break, is all."
"Midoriya, I will literally tie you up with my capture weapon and lock you in this room so you'll be
forced to sleep. Don't test me."
Beaten, Izuku accepts his fate and lies down on the floor behind Aizawa's desk. Suspiciously, the
tile there is much softer than the rest of the floor. Did Aizawa have this part changed just so he
could sleep better? Probably.
With that bit of new information at the forefront of his mind, Izuku shrugs off his blazer and
undoes his tie. Then, he curls up into a ball and uses the jacket for a blanket.
"No." Aizawa's gruff voice forces him to crack open an eye, just in time to see a mass of yellow
being dumped on top of him. "Sleeping on the floor with no support for your head is awful for your
neck. That has a pillow built into it. Use it."
Moments later, Izuku falls asleep wrapped up in a sleeping bag that smells of coffee and cats,
feeling safe and content.
And then, all at once, he's awake again. His muscles feel stiff but not weak, his mind is sharp, and
he feels great. With his eyes still closed, he begins to stretch, only to stop when his arms push
against cloth. Right, the sleeping bag. Izuku opens his eyes to look for a zipper but halts when
something blue obstructs his vision. He swings his head around, but it follows his line of sight.
With a smile, he reaches up and pulls the sticky note off of his forehead.
We hope your nap is great. Next time, if you feel bad, stay home. We'll understand!
There's a doodle of Izuku's friends underneath the text in place of a signature, and he carefully sets
it on the floor next to him so he won't lose or crumple it. Then he unzips the bag.
Free of the confining cloth, Izuku stretches his arms. His joints pop, and his muscles pull tight as
they get used to motion again. He makes sure to hold each stretch for a while, wanting to make
sure he doesn't get a crick. Once he's finished, he stands and stretches his legs. They're stiffer than
his arms, having been pressed up to his chest for however long he was asleep. He pats his pocket
for his phone to check the time but stops before he can turn the screen on.
Seeing his reflection causes him to reach up to his head and grab something from on top of it.
Nejire's horned headband sits in his hand, looking out of place against the gray floor and walls of
the classroom. Gently, Izuku sets it on Aizawa's desk along with his phone and rakes his hands
through his hair. There's no way he doesn't have a horrible case of bed head—between the
headband and resting for a few hours, it's impossible.
Once he's satisfied with his hair, Izuku leaves the room. A look at the time on his phone shows that
it's two in the afternoon, meaning his friends are probably sparring somewhere while Aizawa
watches. He leaves his coat, tie, and backpack behind. Maybe he could join in when he finds them?
It's a stretch, but Izuku feels well rested now. He can fight and he can think. Hopefully Aizawa will
see that.
He walks to their usual training ground, passing by the locker rooms as he does. He considers
changing into his gym uniform but decides against it. If he walks in on them ready to go, they'll
probably try to force him to rest some more. He'll have a better shot at actually fighting if he asks
before he gets ready.
Stepping out onto a road of a fake city, Izuku strains his ears. There's usually some kind of noise
coming from whoever's using the area unless they're doing stealth training, but Izuku's friends don't
exactly do subtle things, so it only takes a few seconds to pick up the sound of an explosion.
Smiling, Izuku takes to the air and greets One for All as it wakes up from its slumber. He heads
right for the spot he heard the explosion come from, which is right in the middle of the city. He
flies over blocks of buildings, noting that a lot of them have damage to them. Nejire's the most
likely culprit since Mirio doesn't have a lot of raw power and Tamaki likes to avoid collateral
damage as much as possible.
A flash of gold catches his attention, and Izuku turns in time to see a spiral ram into the side of a
convenience store. A small blue blob flies away from the scene of destruction and lands on a
rooftop beside a few more splotches of color. Izuku knows that they're either working on structural
integrity or goofing off since that's what was on the schedule for the day. It's not that surprising
that they're giving poor Cementoss more work, but it does make him feel a bit bad for all of the
buildings he's knocked down.
Quietly, Izuku flies down to the street beside the building his friends are on. He ignores the rickety
fire escape in favor of climbing up the side. Blackwhip seeps out of his hands and easily allows
him to stick to the wall, and he makes his way up in a matter of seconds.
"... You hit the support pillar dead on with that last attack, and the building may look fine but it's
been significantly weakened. Another hit will send it falling over, which is why heroes with lots of
raw power avoid going for obvious load-bearing walls or columns. Aiming for weaker walls looks
worse because they collapse in, but they don't affect the rest of the structure all that much and are
easier to rebuild."
Izuku peeks his head over the ledge of the roof and watches as Aizawa explains. Nejire and Tamaki
are the most engrossed, though Mirio looks politely interested in it as well. Izuku wishes that he
could've been here for the whole lesson, but it's really his fault for not being able to fall back
asleep. Maybe he can ask Aizawa for lecture notes?
Deciding that the best course of action is to just ask, Izuku leaps onto the roof with a completely
unnecessary backflip. "Hi, guys!"
"Hey, shouldn't you be asleep?" Nejire says as she floats over to him. Mirio and Tamaki are close
behind, and Izuku meets them halfway.
"I was, but I woke up a little bit ago. I figured I should come find you guys and see if I could join
in." Izuku accepts a side hug from Mirio and happily shoulder-bumps Tamaki. "It wasn't hard to do
since I could hear you guys working from across the city."
"Well, I wouldn't call it working," Mirio says, casting a look over to a pile of rubble a few
buildings down the road. "I mean, there's no way blowing up buildings can be considered a job,
right?"
"Demolition teams exist," Tamaki points out. "And pyrotechnics get paid to blow things up."
"'Do what you love for a living and you'll never work a day in your life,'" Nejire quotes. "It's like
that, except I don't get paid and I get graded on it. Same thing, really, right?"
"No," Izuku laughs. "But I get what you mean. Can I join in?"
"You're supposed to be taking the day off," Aizawa interjects. "It takes a while to recover from a
night of bad sleep, especially if you've had good sleeping habits for a while."
"But I'm all caught up," Izuku argues. "I feel great! And when's the next time Cementoss will let
you have us break this many buildings? Probably not anytime soon."
Aizawa sighs. "Fine. But if you don't get eight hours tonight, don't bother showing up tomorrow
morning. Learning while exhausted is a waste of time."
Izuku knocks down ten buildings, a radio tower, two statues, and a fake monument shaped like a
cactus. Only the buildings were intentional, the rest being victims of imprecise punches or
overestimating how much force was needed. Nejire had the same problem, and the paths of
destruction he saw from overhead were her failed attempts at knocking down a single building
without any extra damage.
It takes a while, but eventually Izuku gets a feel for it. He gets three in a row without a scratch on
any other structures and happily high-fives Nejire afterwards. Mirio and Tamaki also congratulate
him but quickly follow Aizawa's orders and start on their portion of the exercise. Rubble diving.
They did it back in the licensing exam and were taught about it last year, but none of it was like the
rubble Izuku and Nejire made. The two boys take turns digging through for dummies or random
items. It's delicate work since any mistake could start a cave-in. It's for that reason that Izuku and
Nejire follow them around, ready to grab their friends and fly off if anything goes wrong.
They finish the exercise by three-thirty and pack up to go home, feeling fulfilled. Well, Izuku packs
up to go to therapy, but it's a similar thing, really. Hound Dog can be gruff sometimes, but he's nice
enough.
Once his friends have left, Izuku heads up to the counseling office. Like usual, he knocks on the
door and waits for Hound Dog to let him in. When the man does, Izuku turns the doorknob and
steps through.
"Good afternoon," Izuku greets as he takes his usual spot on the couch. "How are you?"
"You stink of sweat," Hound Dog replies, ignoring Izuku's politeness. "Don't you usually shower
after you finish with your hero classes?"
"Yeah, but they ran long today." Izuku grabs the ready cup of green tea off the coffee table in front
of him. "I'm sorry if it hurts your nose. I'll make sure to clean up tomorrow before stepping in."
Hound Dog snorts into his glass of water. "I've been around worse than a teenager's BO, kid. Don't
worry about it. How was your day?"
"Good," Izuku replies.
"Was it?" Hound Dog asks before he can go further. "I heard you had a bit of an issue this
morning. I do hope the pictures of you in Aizawa's hobo bag I got from Mic are genuine, because I
already plan on using them for blackmail against Eraser."
" ... I woke up at one this morning and couldn't go back to sleep," Izuku admits. Is Hound Dog
joking about the blackmail? It's hard to tell, but Izuku feels like he should be worried for his
teacher.
"What woke you up?" Hound Dog picks up a pencil and prepares to write. "You don't have a
history of insomnia, and neither does your mother. Has something changed recently that would
impact your ability to rest?"
"Yeah," Izuku sighs. "I…" He can't say it. That thing refuses to leave his memories, and he
somehow knows that talking about it would only make it worse. "I'm not comfortable with talking
about it. But I did have a nightmare because of it."
"Alright. I see that you're seeing Doctor Hanson as well as me for treatment," Hound Dog notes.
"You must have some friends in high places to be seeing her. Would you be comfortable with
talking to her about what happened?"
"I think so, yes."
"Good. What's important is that you're talking about that stuff and making an effort to get better."
Hound Dog sets down his pencil and takes a sip from his glass of water. "Now. Why did you come
to school today if you felt awful?"
Izuku opens his mouth to reply but can't find the words. Why did he try to make it through the day
on four hours of sleep? It doesn't make an ounce of sense. "I don't know."
"You don't know or you don't know how to explain?" Hound Dog prods.
"I think it's a bit of both," Izuku tries again. "I've been waking up and lifting for so long that I
just… have to do it. I didn't even think seriously about taking the day off; I just went and hoped I
wouldn't crash on the way."
"You've had days off before, correct?" Hound Dog asks. Izuku nods. "Do you remember how you
felt at the ends of those days?"
"Not happy," Izuku says. "No, wait, that's not right," he backtracks. "I was okay, but I didn't feel as
good as I would if I had lifted and gone to school. I didn't feel as fulfilled, and I missed working."
"Does your mother work a lot?"
"Yeah, she regularly puts in more than forty hours a week. It's why we don't eat breakfast together
every day."
"But you're both happy with that, right?"
"Right. We're not exactly rich—er, maybe we are now? With my hero paychecks and the money I
got from the Commission, we're doing way better. But before, we definitely weren't. All of the
work she did let us live comfortably, though."
"I think," Hound Dog says carefully, "that you've equated hard work to happiness."
Izuku blinks. "Well, yeah. I mean, that's what we're all taught, right? Work hard and you'll be
happy. It's a fact of life."
"Maybe for some people," Hound Dog agrees. "And in our country today, a strong work ethic is
needed to stay afloat. But working every day until you drop isn't good for you. Sure, you might feel
fulfilled, but you'll run yourself ragged and burn out. I'm going to suggest you pick up a non-
strenuous hobby, something to take your time away from doing back-breaking work all day."
"But I won't feel as good if I don't do as much work—you said it yourself. And I'm only good at
school and hero stuff," Izuku adds, a bit embarrassed. "I mean, if I had to live on my own, I'd be
okay. I can cook and stuff, but I don't have any real skills."
"A good hobby can be just as fulfilling as a full day of work. And that's the thing—I'm not saying
you should drop your career a few days a week. Just ease off a little. Spend a few hours with
yourself doing something simple and enjoyable." Hound Dog reaches under his desk and pulls out
a basket of yarn and needles. "I think knitting would be perfect for you."
"What?" Izuku asks, half-tempted to laugh. "I... my mom knits and I'm not sure if I'll be able to sit
still long enough to learn, let alone make a blanket."
"Kid, anyone can knit. It takes a few days to learn, but you'll get there easily enough. I'd say that, in
a year, you'll be able to make a decent scarf." Hound Dog tosses Izuku a spool of yarn. "And just
think of how good you'll feel when you wear something you made yourself, huh? It'll be like lifting
or going on patrol, only safer and more relaxing. And hey, maybe you could make some things for
your friends or Aizawa. That man needs a good hat for this winter."
Izuku looks down at the green spool of yarn in his hands. It's soft and feels great against his skin.
Knitting, huh? Maybe it's worth a shot.
Chapter End Notes
It's a pretty well known fact but if you didn't know, work culture in Japan is killer.
Horikoshi is actually a good example, since he's taking a week long break due to poor
heath steming from working nonstop. I feel that Izuku would be subject to that a little
as well, and I've written him as such. Hound Dog recognizes that he needs down time
and aims to give it to him.
I posted the April Fool's chapter. Look on my profile, it's there. I hope you guys like it.
This chapter is short, and so was the last one. I don't know if the trend will continue,
but I do know that this arc will be longer then 6 chapters. If you want his second year
to start before chapter 65, then I'm sorry. This arc will be at least ten by my estimate,
and there's still one small one and one big one left.
I hope you enjoyed. As always, cheers!

Grief
Chapter Notes
As of July 10, 2021 this chapter has been edited and reformated by my beta, Flauel.
"No, sweetie, like this. See how neat my knot is? If you don't have a good beginning to work from,
you won't be able to progress very far. Take the yarn off and try again."
"Like this?"
"It's better, and I know you want to get going so we'll work on it more later. Now, there's a simple
pattern to this. You push the right one into the opening and then you wrap the thread around it.
Here, it's like this."
"Did I do it right?"
"You did it backwards. Take the thread off and try again."
"How long did it take for you to learn this?"
"To figure out all of the processes you need? Two weeks. But I didn't get good at knitting until you
were… oh, two months old. Considering I started when I was fourteen, it took a while. But that's
fine! You can make coasters and scarves and all sorts of stuff without too much skill. Leave the
hats and mittens for later, okay?"
"Sure. Does this look right?"
"Yep! Now, pull the needle back a bit. A little more than that, son, you have to pull the thread
through the loop. Yes, that's it, now pull gently."
"Did I do it?"
"Almost. Loop it on to the other needle and make sure everything's tight. Ta-da! That's your first
stitch!"
"It's tiny. How many of these will I need to make something?"
"Oh, a few thousand. Don't look at me like that! You have a pair of socks I made you, remember?
Those took me a few months to complete. For you to get a good-sized coaster or rag, it'll probably
take until next month. Most of that will be because of mistakes, though. But let's just try to get this
row done, okay? Then I can show you how to add another."
"Alright."
One wouldn't think that knitting would be difficult. Or maybe it's just Izuku who feels that way.
He's seen his mom work with the needles at least three times a week for as long as he can
remember. And she's always been a fast worker, churning out a new hat and scarf for him every
winter so he'd have properly fitting clothes. But when Izuku himself sits down to do it, he fails at
just about everything.
Sitting still is hard. Every fiber of his being wants to get up and get around, which breaks his focus,
which in turn leads to more mistakes. The hand movement is totally foreign to him as well. Izuku
had thought that all of the work he put into carefully regulating One for All and sketching costume
designs would make something like knitting easy. But all of his fine motor control went out the
window when his mother first showed him how to hold the needles properly. But despite all of
that, it's somehow still relaxing.
Izuku might want to go and do something physical, but he finds that he can't leave a row
unfinished. All of his mistakes are easily fixed with a smile from his mother, and trying again takes
two seconds. He doesn't realize it until he's done, but he spends two hours knitting with his mother.
The fact that he only has three rows done doesn't take away from his satisfaction one bit.
And that's the thing, too. Izuku feels good when he looks at his progress. Lumpy and uneven it
may be, but he made those stitches, and when he's done, it'll be his uneven coaster. It's no weight
lifting or a round in the ring with his friends, but it does the job well. He'll have to thank Hound
Dog later for giving him something new to do. Maybe he'll give his therapist the first coaster? No,
the second. He'll keep the first on his nightstand. But now, there are other things to do.
"Are you all ready for Doctor Hanson?" his mother asks as she puts away her knitting supplies.
"Yeah," Izuku replies. "I mean, I just show up, so it's not like I need anything. Right?"
"That's not what I meant." His mother walks over and rests a hand on his arm. She looks into his
eyes. "Are you ready to talk about… about what you won't tell me about. I know you've been
having trouble, so I just want to make sure."
"I'm fine, Mom," Izuku insists. "I can talk to the doctor just fine."
She looks at him for a moment. Izuku can't tell if it's out of worry or something else. "You've
gotten so tall," she decides to say. "You'll be your father's height by the time you're out of high
school if you keep growing this fast. You'll probably have better muscles, too."
"I'm not that tall," Izuku says, shrugging. "Was Dad?"
"Yeah, about one-ninety, if I remember correctly." His mother continues to look up at him, but her
eyes seem to focus on something far beyond him. "Tall, dark, and handsome. And well-dressed,
too. He never went out in anything other than slacks. He used to box when he was about your age
before he joined his uncle's company. He kept up with the fitness aspect of it so he wouldn't go
soft."
"Do you know what business he worked for?"
"Shipping," his mother replies. "I don't remember the name, but it started with an 'S.' Shi-
something? Or maybe it was Sha? I don't remember. Anyways, he ran the numbers and made sure
it stayed afloat." She chuckles at her unintentional pun but quickly regains focus.
"When did he leave?" Izuku asks, trying to be gentle but not knowing how.
"Before you were born," his mother sighs. "He didn't even know I was pregnant before we broke
up. His company changed headquarters so he had to go with it. I used to get letters every now and
then, but they stopped about twelve years ago."
"So you weren't married, then." Izuku had always figured, but it's a relief to know the truth.
"Yes, though no one really knows about that. They assume that we're divorced. Or at least that's
what the people at work and in my knitting circle think. The official documents say otherwise." His
mother seems to regain focus and smiles up at him. "You have his nose, you know. And the
freckles."
Izuku reaches up and brushes his cheeks with the tips of his fingers. "What was his name? Hisashi,
right? But not Midoriya."
"Midoriya is my family name, yes." His mother reaches up and pushes a strand of hair away from
his face. "I have records of my great-great grandpa changing the name after we got our green hair.
Your father—" Her watch beeps, drawing their attention. "Oh! We were supposed to be out the
door by now. Let's get going so we don't miss our train!"
They make it on time, but it's a close thing. They're crammed into the last two seats, and the train
pulls away right as Izuku's butt hits the seat. The actual ride over isn't all that bad since Izuku can
just look at his phone the whole time. Nedzu recommended some informative articles and a few
anecdotal tidbits to look into, and he's been steadily working through them in his free time. Most
are on Quirks, though a few are historical. Izuku finds the historical ones to be the most interesting,
particularly the handful written by people who came into contact with the Luminescent Baby way
back when the child was first born.
After two stops, most of the passengers have gotten off. Doctor Hanson's office is out of the way,
and not a lot of people live around the area it's in. Since it's just past quitting time for most working
people, Izuku finds himself with an empty seat to his left and lots of legroom. He wastes no time in
stretching out but quickly pulls his legs back when a shorter man walks on and grabs onto the pole
in the middle of the train right in front of him.
"Sir, you can sit next to my son," his mother says. Like Izuku, she's noticed that the man looks
exhausted. "There's no reason for you to stand when there's an open seat."
There's actually plenty of open seats, and most people keep two or three between them and the
people closest to them. But the man shakes his head with a smile. "No thanks. I might end up
shocking the poor guy." The man's left eye twitches a little, which seems to surprise him because
he gasps and reaches up with his free hand to cover his mouth. "My Quirk's a little finicky, so
unless you're okay with being hit with a few dozen volts, I'll keep my distance."
A few other passengers lean away from the man after he says that, and one woman even lifts her
feet off of the floor. The man takes it in good stride and leans onto the pole. His right arm reaches
up to cover his mouth again, but it quickly drops to his side. Interested, Izuku leans forward in his
seat.
"Your Quirk has something to do with electricity?" Izuku asks.
"Yup, I can make it, absorb it, and dish it back out." The man holds up one finger and a small
crackle of light appears. He gasps again and covers his mouth, the electricity gone. "'Course,
there's drawbacks. I'm just a battery, so what I put out goes everywhere. And when I'm tired like
now, it likes to try and sneak out."
"That's pretty cool." Izuku leans back in his seat. "Are you an electrician?"
The man smiles proudly. "Oh yeah, been working with my Quirk since I was sixteen. Anyways,
you look familiar. Would I know you from somewhere?"
"Um, I won the UA Sports Festival?" Izuku tries. "And I, uh, I've been in the news a few times."
The man snaps his fingers. "That's where I know you from. My kid follows you online, and he
really likes your workout videos. I'm pretty sure he got a gym membership because of you."
"That's great!" Izuku exclaims. "I'm glad he started to work out. Physical health is really
important."
"Oh yeah, I've been trying to get his butt off the couch for a few years now." The man pokes one of
his fingers into his stomach. "Of course, I'm not exactly spry and young, but Denki hardly did
anything other than school and video games until he found you."
"I was the same," Izuku admits. "But I definitely wouldn't have made it into UA if I didn't start
working out."
"Yeah, Denki wants into a hero school, too. He can't pick one, but now that he's hitting the gym,
he'll probably make it." The man reaches up and covers his mouth again but doesn't bother moving
his hand down to his side. Instead, he rests it on his shoulder. "He'll get a kick when I tell him I
saw you. I'd swear he'd have a poster of you in his room if they were available."
In the back of his mind, Izuku can hear a tiny, disembodied voice that sounds suspiciously like
Nedzu yelling, Plug the merch! He obeys, of course. "I'm actually working on stuff like that. Um, I
guess I might be on a t-shirt or something, but older heroes will definitely be the focus. All of them
will be UA graduates, too."
"Huh. I'll have to keep an eye out for that. Or at least tell Denki. He'll scrape up enough cash to buy
something, I'm sure."
The train lurches to a stop, and Izuku sways to the side a little. "This is us," his mother says.
"Hurry, now. We're on a tight schedule!"
They exit the train, with Izuku waving and telling the man to wish his son luck for him and
receiving a two-fingered salute back. After that, the walk to the office is quick. It's clear that they're
away from the main hustle and bustle of Tokyo, but they're not quite in the residential area or a
suburb either. It's actually kind of like their neighborhood back home, with a few locally-owned
shops and public areas.
But the building they're here for sticks out like a sore thumb. Big and modern, the structure reflects
nearly every bit of sunlight that hits it, and the parking lot is well manicured and full, a rarity for
how close they are to a major city.
As awe-inspiring as a massive glass box in the middle of brick and mortar is, Izuku's mom doesn't
pay it any mind as she leads him through the lot and up the front steps. The door opens
automatically, and a security guard tracks them with two of their dozen eyes. They walk up to the
front desk where an elderly man sits, moving his mouse back and forth as his computer screen
reflects in his glasses. Izuku can tell that he's playing solitaire.
"Hello. I'm Midoriya Inko and this is my son, Izuku," his mother says, setting her purse on the
ledge. The solitaire window is quickly minimized, and a blank outline of something takes its place.
"You have the seven-forty-five, right?” the man asks. His mother nods. "I'll need to see both of
your IDs, please." The cards quickly change hands and, with a glance up at their faces, the man
types on his outline. "Young man, one of our ushers will take you to your room in just a moment.
Ma'am, you're welcome to wait in one of our lounges. They're down that hallway"—the secretary
points over Izuku's shoulder—"and clearly marked. Someone will come get you when the time is
up. Argus!"
The guard from earlier straightens at his post and starts to walk over. His eyes never stop moving
around, though a few appear to be sleeping. He stops just behind Izuku and stares at the secretary
with the two eyes in his actual eye sockets. "Take him to Hanson. You know the drill." The guard
nods and motions at Izuku to follow him before starting off down the corridor opposite the way to
the lounge area. Izuku tentatively says goodbye to his mother before following.
The walk down the hall is quick and silent. Izuku fidgets the whole way and tries not to look at the
eye the guard keeps on him. When they make it all the way down, they stop in front of a heavy-
looking iron door. Or at least, Izuku thinks it's a door. There's no handle or keyhole even though it's
outlined by a few trips of bolted-on steel. The guard raises a fist and knocks on it five times. Then
the door slides into the ground, and Izuku gets a look at the other side, and at the door, which is
easily a foot thick.
"The doctor is waiting," the guard says, keeping his words short and clipped off. "You will not be
recorded, but there will be people waiting to intervene if you threaten her. Don't try anything and
use your time wisely."
Izuku murmurs a quick thanks before walking by the man and into the room. Unlike the rest of the
building, it's completely windowless. The walls are made of metal, and one is dented slightly, like
a massive hammer slammed into it. Or maybe a powerful attack. That particular option makes
Izuku nervous, so he looks away from the wall.
The floor is also metal, but it has a few large rugs that make it seem more homely. The scent of
vanilla wafts through the air, and paintings line the walls, all of them cheerful-looking. Expensive-
looking furniture takes up most of the floor, arranged so that every piece is facing the middle.
There are two couches, a rocking chair, and an armchair.
"You'd best get comfortable," a cool and calm voice says. Izuku jumps in shock and turns around
to see Doctor Hanson, though she's not exactly picture perfect for what he's seen. Her hair has been
completely shaved off, for one, and a thick, jagged scar runs from the crown of her head to below
the collar of her cardigan. It comes close to covering her left eye, but it sharply turns to cut through
the lips and chin.
"Sorry!" Izuku apologizes, backing up to sit in one of the couches. "I didn't mean to stare!"
"It's quite alright," the doctor says. Her voice is forgiving, but her face says that she's dealt with
this a million times. "I know my appearance is abnormal even in these weird and modern times. I
understand that you would be surprised by it. Though I would've hoped that Yagi thought to show
you a picture of me."
"He did. It was just an old one." Izuku shifts in his seat, struggling to find comfort in the cushions
of the couch. Is it possible for furniture to be too soft? Because this one certainly feels that way.
"That couch is much more firm." The doctor points to the one opposite Izuku as she walks over to
sit down in the rocking chair. "You can lay down if you’d like, but those that need my particular
services rarely feel comfortable with doing so."
"Um, what kind of people do you help?" Izuku asks as he swaps couches. Like the doctor said, the
second one is much closer to what he's used to.
"Lots of government officials or field operatives," the doctor informs. "People who know things
that the public can't but still need help dealing with the weight of them. Underground heroes are
another big demographic of people I get in here. Most of them don't want word of their existence
getting out, and some are willing to pay a good sum to avoid it. Yagi's footing your bill, correct?"
"Yes," Izuku nods. "All—er, Yagi… All Might,” he settles on, remembering that she probably
knows more about the man than he does, "recommended you to me. He said there was no chance
of you telling another person my secrets."
"That is true," the doctor agrees. "My Quirk is called Locked Lips, and I cannot repeat what has
been said to me and only me. I cannot write the secrets I keep, I cannot say them, and I cannot
gesture in a way that would inform another of the secret. Would you like an example?"
"Sure?" Izuku straightens up in his seat. "How would I…"
"Ask me a question about Yagi," the doctor suggests.
Izuku thinks for a moment. "Um… how much did he pay you after you helped him?"
"Five thousand American dollars per two hour session." Izuku reels back in shock.
"I thought—"
"His payment is on file at my old place of work," the doctor explains. "It's hardly a secret. Try
again, but ask about something personal. Something he hasn't told you about."
"... What was All for One like?" Izuku asks, his voice barely a whisper. "How…" He pauses to lick
his lips, his mouth suddenly feeling dry. "How did that fight go?"
The doctor opens her mouth to speak, but it suddenly slams shut with a click of her teeth. She
reaches up a hand to try and pry it open, but her jaw won't budge. She tries to point at something
with her hands, but her arms slam against her legs, locked in place. She sits rigged for a while, stiff
and motionless. Then, without any warning, she relaxes.
"See? Impossible. Many have tried to get me to talk, but it's never worked. They've mostly given
up now, but every now and then, someone tries again." Doctor Hanson points to the massive dent
in the wall.
"Your life must be hard," Izuku says.
"It is," the doctor confirms.
"I'm sorry."
"I appreciate your sympathy, but I ask that you don't pity me." The doctor laces her fingers together
and rests them on her lap. She starts to push against the ground with her legs, rocking back and
forth in an even rhythm. "I accepted the reality of it all long ago, and you're here to get help, not
feel sorry for me. Yagi told me why you were coming, but I'd like to hear it from you as well. Take
your time."
Izuku sighs and relaxes into the cushions of the couch. He takes a moment to gather his thoughts,
unsure if he could even vocalize them without stopping either from nerves or the memories. The
time continues to tick by, but Doctor Hanson never once prods. She simply sits in her chair and
rocks. Back and forth, back and forth. Izuku finds himself lost in the pattern, not even realizing that
he's talking until the words leave his mouth.
"I was eating dinner at another family's house. I saved them the previous week and they wanted to
repay me, so my mom and I went over. Everything was fine until I went to the bathroom. When I
was washing my hands—or was it after?—I heard something in the room across the hall. They
were villains, and I fought them. I won, but they managed to escape after a while, and I followed
them through a portal to their base, and then…" Izuku takes a deep breath and clenches his fists. He
cut his nails the night before, but if he hadn't, they'd be digging into his palms. "There was a
monster down in that lair. It… it made me feel things, awful things. And… and after it was gone,
they tried to kill me. But I didn't die. A kid did.
"He was only three and a half." Izuku's voice starts to shake, and he rubs the underside of his eyes
with his fingers, waiting for the tears. "He wasn't even in school yet. And they killed him, and, and,
I failed to stop it! He could be here right now, but I wasn't good enough, and now his funeral's two
weeks from now."
The doctor remains silent, seemingly content to watch Izuku cry. She waits until his sobs start to
slow before speaking.
"Do you think about the boy often?" Doctor Hanson asks. "Is his memory more common than, oh,
let's say your mother's?"
"I dunno," Izuku hiccups. "I don't… if I keep busy, I do okay, like at school and stuff. But when
I'm not doing anything and it's quiet, it's the only thing I think about."
"It's perfectly normal to feel this way," the doctor assures. "And it's healthy to grieve. In fact, I
don't think you've been grieving enough."
"Huh?"
"Walk me through your day," the doctor instructs. "I know it's what you do with Hound Dog every
session you have with him, so just make it short and simple."
"Okay," Izuku says, trying to pull himself back together. It's hard. He can't shake the sight of that
boy crumbling to ash in his hands, but he still tries. "I wake up, workout, eat, go to school, do some
after-school training, then I do homework until I have to go to bed."
"You're pretty busy, though I understand you've recently been given more free time?" Izuku nods,
and the doctor hums. "Yes, you've definitely distracted yourself from it. For some people, picking
up the pieces and going on like nothing happened can work. But, Midoriya, do you think you'll still
be mourning that boy three months from now?"
"... Yeah," Izuku mumbles. "He just won't get out of my head."
"Then you can't keep doing what you're doing," the doctor claims. "Grief can easily lead to
depression, and your feelings of inadequacy will only make it a steeper slope. Do you want your
career to end before it can begin?"
"No."
"I thought so. I recommend that you take a few days off. Maybe you could still hit the gym or do
some easy assignments, but you should spend most of the day doing nothing. Think about how you
feel, and don't be afraid to cry everything out. You said the funeral is in two weeks?"
"Yeah."
"Will you be attending?"
"I think so."
"It would definitely be beneficial for you." The doctor pauses her rocking and leans forward a
little, causing Izuku's attention to zero in on her. "Funerals give us a good outlet for mourning,
which in turn makes us feel better. It's ultimately your choice, but it's best if you go."
"Alright. I'll go then." Izuku watches as the doctor nods and leans back again. She sets her hands on
the armrests and crosses her legs and sits still for a while. Izuku can't help but stare at her in
confusion. Why isn't she saying anything? Is she not happy with how he's behaving? Or maybe she
just doesn't want to talk?
His mind continues to wander, asking question after question as the silence wears on. But
gradually, like a ball losing momentum as he rolls along the ground, Izuku's mind focuses on the
boy and the monsters that killed him. The memories of him crumbling to dust, and of that thing
burning through his mind, play over and over, cycling back and forth. His breathing becomes
shallow, and his eyes start to burn again.
"Midoriya," the doctor says, grabbing his attention. "What's your favorite color?"
"I… green?" Izuku says, mind halfway in-between the memories and the present. "What—"
"How much can you squat?"
"Three hundred fifteen pounds, but why—"
"What did you have for breakfast?"
"Eggs and rice?"
The doctor nods, satisfied with whatever she just did. "Do you see what I just did?'
"No."
"I left you alone with your thoughts, and it's clear that you would have had a breakdown if I didn't
intervene. I asked you questions to drag your mind elsewhere and, in doing so, I kept you from
grieving. This is what you've been doing for the past few weeks." The doctor's tone of voice makes
it clear that it's not a good thing. "Grief and sorrow are natural and even healthy in the right
amounts. You haven't let yourself properly go through them, which is bad. Machines break down
because they're broken, and so do people. When that happens, you stop, take a break, gather your
thoughts, fix the issue, and then go on. You've been skipping most of those steps."
"So you want me to just go home and cry for a couple of days?" Izuku asks, not sure if he should
take her seriously.
"Yes. As I've said before, crying does make you feel better." The doctor reaches into the front
pocket of her pants and pulls out a pen and a small pad of paper. She flips it open and begins to
write. "Do you have a meditative hobby?"
"I picked up knitting recently," Izuku says. "My mom's been teaching me."
"Good. When you take your days off, knit a lot. It'll help you deal with a lot of your emotions, and
it's good for your mind in general, too." The doctor stops writing and tears off the sheet of paper.
She holds it up between two of her fingers. "This is a doctor's note prescribing at least seven days
of rest between now and the funeral. They don't all have to be consecutive, and in fact I wouldn't
take more than three off at once. But you need to relax and let your emotions settle."
Izuku feels his lips twitch downward but accepts the note when the doctor hands it to him. "Thank
you," he says, not quite meaning it.
"You can still stick to your weight training—exercise is another good meditative hobby. But there's
to be no going to school or working on school things when you take your mental health days." The
doctor settles back into her rocking chair and resumes her even back and forth motion. "Would you
like to talk about the monster in the lair today?"
"I'm not against it, but this is a lot to unpack already." Izuku looks at the note, trying to decipher
the handwriting, which is a weird mix of beautifully written English and sloppy Japanese
characters. "And it's not that big of a deal. I'm dealing with it just fine."
"I'd hesitate to call losing six hours of sleep a small thing," the doctor says as she raises an
eyebrow. "Have you had any other issue relating to this monster you spoke of?"
"... It's kind of like the… the other thing," Izuku sighs. "It just pops into my head and I can't stop
thinking about it. And maybe it's been in my dreams again? I don't really remember them, but
sometimes I wake up feeling scared and I don't know why."
"I see." The doctor pulls out her notes again and scribbles something down. "You may have some
kind of traumatic stress disorder, or a… I forget the Japanese word for it, but it's like a phobia, only
born from trauma and completely rational. It will require more work for a proper diagnosis, but
there are treatment options for every possibility. It will take more time than we have left, however,
so I would recommend talking to Hound Dog about it or waiting until you see me again."
"I'll wait for you," Izuku decides. "It was only one night and, um, some of the stuff has to do with
One for All."
"That's fine, though if it worsens before you can see me, say something to Hound Dog. I can't take
walk-ins, and your well-being is the top priority." The doctor stands. "Would you like to stay for
your remaining time or head out to see your mother?"
"I'd like to see my mom, thanks," Izuku says as he stands up. "How much time is left? That felt
really quick."
"Yagi paid for a one hour session, but you only used about forty minutes," the doctor informs.
"Your next one will probably take the full amount of time and maybe even go over if you plan on
breaking down what happened in the lair, but your master has deep pockets so he can afford the
extra fees. Now please"—she hits a button and the door opens once more—"have a good evening,
and for your sake, grieve. I'll see you next week."
"Bye."
Izuku follows the guard all the way back to the front desk and then to the lounge area. Neither of
them speaks a word, though Izuku fidgets with the paper in his hands. When they get to the lounge
area, they spend a while searching for his mother. It's a hard task since that part of the building is
three or four times the size of their apartment and houses a small army of people waiting for
something or someone. There are even a few vending machines, and Izuku counts no less than ten
TVs, all fairly new.
They find her sitting on a couch with a cup of tea. The guard tells Izuku that they can't loiter for too
long and walks off, presumably to guard another area of the building. As he draws closer, it
becomes obvious that his mom's talking to someone. Curious, he picks up his pace. His mother
sees him and happily points him out.
"There he is," she says. "A bit early, but it's his first day."
"Yes, that's how it was for us," a man replies. His voice is flat and monotone, and much lower than
his mom's or even his. "They like to ease you into it here."
"Yeah! A lot of medical professionals don't like the whole sink-or-swim deal most heroes have
going on." Izuku stops walking. He knows that voice. He hears a little bit of shuffling, and a head
pokes over the high back of the couch. "Hello there!" Izuku blinks as he catches an eyeful of
perfectly manicured blue hair, sparkling blue eyes, and a bright, happy smile.
"Nejire?"
Chapter End Notes
If you didn't catch it, Kaminari's dad has Tourettes Syndrome. There's no particular
plot reason for why, I just figured it probably exists in the MHA world. And also I
have a friend with Tourettes and they read this. I actually based Mr Kaminari's tics on
theirs. Also, full disclosure, I read the Michael Very series when I was younger and
the protagonist in that has an electric power and Toruettes, so that was the second
biggest inspiration.
Izuku's reluctance (of the intentional and unintentional) to grieve is based on my great
aunt's. She lost her mother when she was a teen, and had to basically take her place.
And this was in the 50s and 60s, so that ment cooking, cleaning, and making sure all
seven people in the house were alive. She just didn't have time to cry or be safe, and
even if she did, she couldn't. Otherwise the whole family would fall apart. It's not a fun
story, but she's much happier now.
Next one will probably be a bit late. You know those tests they make you take so they
can compare schools and different countries' education systems that always show that
americans are dumb? I'm taking those. For a whole week. Yeah, it sucks.
Till next time, cheers!

Effort
Chapter Notes
As of July 11, 2021 this chapter has been edited and reformated by me beta, flauel
"Well duh, who else?" Nejire leans over the back of the chair, somehow managing to maintain her
balance while half of her body weight hangs off. Or maybe it's just because her dad's sitting on the
other side. "I mean, how many people with blue hair do you know?"
"One?" Izuku says, a bit unsure. "Maybe I've seen another one? But that's not what I meant."
"Oh? And what did you mean?" Nejire extends one of her fingers like she's going to poke Izuku on
the nose, but she doesn't quite have the arm reach to do so and ends up flopping over. "Is it such a
shock to see me outside of school? I mean, we've been hanging out for a while now, so it shouldn't
be. Unless something changed?"
"No, it's not that. I, um… huh." Izuku chews the inside of his cheek, unsure of how to explain it.
"It's just you, and here, and, uh." He gestures vaguely to her and then to the space around him. "It
uh, doesn't—I dunno."
"Huh. Well, alright then." Nejire hauls herself back up on the couch and props her arms on the
back of it. "All types of people need therapy, ya know?" she says, her expression taking on a little
bit of seriousness. "So it's not really a surprise that you're not the only one of us going."
"Oh! No, I didn't mean to insinuate that you, or that I was the only one who needed—no, that's not
right! Um, I mean that it's totally cool that you're here, it's just that I didn't think that, uh, um—
that's not it either!" Izuku continues to babble on, trying to get the words right but finding the task
to be impossible. He just barely catches it between all of his rapid gesturing and hectic mind, but
Nejire relaxes back to her earlier state.
"Nah, you're fine! I was just playing." Nejire leans all the way back so she's sitting on her knees on
top of the couch cushion. Her chin rests on the soft top of the back cushion. "You should come sit
down! We're here a bit early so it'll be a while before our session."
She leaves no room for argument, so Izuku walks around and sits down next to his mother. He
looks up at Nejire, who's happily bouncing her knee, which makes the baggy openings of her pant
legs swish around. To her right is Mr. Hado, who he's never met before.
"I've heard a lot about you," he says, both his body language and facial expression the perfect
example of neutrality. If Izuku's honest with himself, it's kind of hard to see how he's related to his
own daughter. Where Nejire is lean and spry, her father's stocky and broad. His skin is rough and
tan, with occasional splotches of red that look like minor burns—a stark contrast between Nejire's
pale skin. He just feels static, like every part of him screams Immovable Object.
"All good things, right?" Izuku tries. He laughs nervously at his own joke, which Nejire must find
to be hilarious because she giggles too.
"Yes. Though some of them were a little… debatable." Mr. Hado tilts his head down ever so
slightly, and Izuku catches just the faintest glimpse of a scar through his short black hair. "You're
quite rowdy from what she's told me."
"Your daughter told you the truth, then," Izuku's mother chimes in. "He's given me a lot of trouble,
though most of it has been since he met her." She points to Nejire, who grins and nods her head.
"Yep, that's all true!" she declares.
"Is it?" Mr. Hado raises his brow and stares at Izuku, which makes him fidget in his seat and sends
his stomach rolling.
"... Yes?" Izuku says. "I mean, when I met Mirio and her was when everything started to pick up,
so…"
"You forgot about Amajiki," his mother chides.
"No I didn't, he's just not as"—Izuku moves his hands in front of him, waving at Nejire—"that."
"You just gestured to all of me," Nejire says with a smile. She leans down so her elbows rest on her
knees. "Should I be offended?"
"No!" Izuku yells and then promptly flushes because he said that really loud. "Er, no. It's just—you
and Tamaki. Well, you're just really different."
"That's true," Nejire agrees. "Anyways, how did therapy go? The doctors here are great, so I'm sure
you had a productive session."
"Nejire," Mr. Hado says in a warning tone. "Not everyone likes being open about stuff like that.
Let your friend have his privacy."
"It's alright," Izuku says, waving his concern off. "I don't mind. And yeah, Doctor Hanson was
really polite and kind. I didn't feel out of place or anything like that."
"You see Doctor Hanson?" Mr. Hado asks. His expression turns slightly interested, and Izuku
suddenly feels like a deer in the headlights. "You must have some serious connections to get time
with her," he continues. "She's not exactly cheap either."
"Dad," Nejire groans. "Stop terrorizing Izuku. You just said to leave him alone, right?" She prods
her father in the ribs with her elbow, which Mr. Hado doesn't even react to.
"I'm just curious," the man replies. "You have interesting friends, and I can't help but want to get to
know them better." He manages to say all of that with a perfectly straight face, which completely
clashes with his words.
"Which would be fine if you talked to him like a normal person," Nejire huffs. "Asking personal
questions right off the bat isn't what normal people do."
"Interesting that you say that." Mr. Hado turns from Izuku to his daughter, and his shoulders go
from being relaxed to squared in an instant. "I could've sworn that you've had trouble with asking
too many questions for years."
Nejire opens her mouth to retort, but sees Izuku, or more importantly his uncomfortable expression,
out of the corner of her eye and quickly relaxes. "You know, I think it's about time we head to the
doctor."
Mr. Hado grunts. "Yes, it is. It was nice meeting you two." He nods stiffly at Izuku and his mother
before standing up from the couch and walking away, clearly expecting Nejire to follow. But she
lingers for a bit instead.
"Sorry about that." She dips her head down which makes her mountain of hair fall over her face,
and she has to push it back with her hands. It's a nice sight, Izuku thinks. "We're not exactly the
best example of a parent and child relationship, if you know what I mean."
"That's alright," his mom insists. "I wasn't on good terms with my mother for years when I was
younger. There's no shame in it, and I think it's wonderful that you're trying to work through it."
"Thanks, ma'am." Nejire smiles and stands to go join her father, but before she does, she snaps her
fingers and an ah-ha expression slips onto her face. "I'm coming here a whole hour earlier next
week by myself. If it works out for you, Izuku, we could hang out afterwards. Maybe catch a
movie?"
"That would work with my schedule. Um, if that's alright?" Izuku looks at his mother who nods.
"I see no problem with it. Just be safe and come back home by ten-thirty, alright?"
"Sure."
"Perfect!" Nejire does a fist pump, her hair fluttering in the air. "I'll see ya then! And at school, too!
Have a great night!"
With one final wave, she walks away and Izuku relaxes into his seat, a bright smile playing on his
lips. The warmth he gets from talking to friends always feels amazing no matter how short the
conversation is. Nejire especially is good at turning a sour mood into something much more
enjoyable with just a few words.
"I'm ready to go now," Izuku says, turning to his mother. He promptly cocks his head in confusion
when he sees his mother's expression, which seems to say I know something you don't. "What's up
with that?" he asks.
"Oh, nothing," his mother says, looking away from him and tapping her fingertips together. "You
seem to really like her, is all."
"Yeah?" Izuku says, confused. "She's a really great friend."
"I can tell," his mother says as she stands up and slips her purse onto her forearm. "I quite like her,
too. Hopefully your movie after next week's session will go great."
Izuku blinks and is slow to get up as he tries to read between the lines. "Why wouldn't it be great? I
guess if we pick the wrong movie, it wouldn't be fun."
"Yes, you'd best pay attention to the movie selection. Try to avoid anything that she wouldn't like,"
his mother suggests. She starts to walk away, and Izuku has to hurry behind her because she has
remarkably quick steps for someone with legs as short as hers.
"Why wouldn't I do that?" Izuku asks. Then, because his mother says nothing but smiles at him
knowingly, he reaches a hand up to massage one of his temples. "What does that even mean?”
His mother chuckles. "You'll know eventually. Now let's get to the train. We have one more stop
before we head home."
"We do?" Izuku asks.
"Yep. I even called ahead so they'd know we're coming, so not showing up isn't an option."
They could've walked there. Really, the train ride is only five minutes, and most of it is spent
looking for a seat among the Friday night crowd. But even so, Izuku dutifully follows his mother
all the way to the nearest stop and then down a few streets to a quieter section of the city. A quieter
and a much nicer part of the city.
The apartments are of better quality than theirs, and the streets are perfectly spotless. His mother
turns left onto a street that has four identical buildings—two on each side—with only three floors
each. Most of the lights are on, and music drifts down from one of the windows. And at the end of
the block is a large, slightly rundown house.
Unlike the rest of the buildings, it has a small yard that's dotted with toys and balls. One of the
windows is boarded up, but the rest of them are perfectly clean. The door is slightly crooked, and
the paint looks like it could use a fresh coat. Izuku's mom wastes no time walking up the front
steps and ringing the doorbell, which is close to the end of its life if the pathetic chime has
anything to say about it.
After a few seconds, footsteps thud on the floor, and the knob clicks. With a creak, the door swings
inward, and his mom steps in front of him. "Hi, I'm Midoriya Inko, I called you about an
appointment?"
Izuku looks down at the woman who opened the door, fighting to hide his interest once he sees
that she's barely a meter tall with hair equal to half her height done up like a beehive. If beehives
were black and smelt of hairspray, that is.
"I remember you," the woman says, stepping back and allowing them over the threshold. "You're
friends with that detective guy, right?" His mother nods and the woman continues, "You're a bit
early so they're not quite ready. Just wait in the den—that's all the way down the first hall. Sorry
for the mess."
"It's fine," his mother says as she starts to walk further into the building. And now that Izuku is
inside too, he can hear the pitter-patter of rapid footsteps. Rapid and small footsteps, which only
makes him even more confused. "Come on, Izuku. Let's not keep them waiting."
"But the woman said that they weren't ready?" Izuku walks side by side with his mother, glancing
at the walls which are decorated with children's drawings and the occasional picture. He'd call
them family pictures, but all of them had upwards of fifty people with none of them looking even
the smallest bit alike. "And who are they anyways? Does Detective Tsukauchi know them?"
"It's still impolite to linger," his mother says. She pauses to admire one particular photo that
happens to be hung at her eye level. The frame is cracked and the glass is missing one of the
corners, but the actual photo is in perfect condition even if the clothes worn by the people in it are
at least a hundred years old. "And the detective definitely knows them, though not as well as you or
their lawyers."
"Who are they?" Izuku asks, stepping through a doorway and into a large and cluttered room. Like
the front yard, toys litter the ground, though strangely there's also an abundance of what look like
worksheets from an elementary or middle school.
"You'll see," his mother says, sitting down on the only couch in the room. It's faded, and there are
more than a few stains splattered across the cushions. "It'll only be a minute. Just sit tight, okay?"
"Nah, don't bother. I'm already here!" Izuku looks over his shoulder and does a double-take.
"Chance?"
They smirk. "Yep. Can't believe your eyes, huh?"
Izuku doesn't respond. Not verbally, anyway. Instead, he rushes over and wraps them up in a tight
hug. They let out a quiet grunt, but their arms reach around his shoulders tightly. "Yeah, yeah, good
to see you too, man. Have you been?" they murmur into his shoulder.
"Fine," Izuku says, releasing them. "But what about you? You look great!" And they really do.
Their hair has lost the pink and green dye, but it's blond and healthy. Their skin has a nice tan, and
Izuku can tell from the hug that they've put on a good amount of weight. Chance looks clean, too,
smelling of pine wood and with a hint of green eyeliner.
"It's been good," Chance says, lingering in Izuku's hold for a little while longer. "There's like
twenty of us here, and I'm one of the oldest so I kinda get glossed over a bit. Still beats the streets,
though."
"I'm sure," Izuku says with a smile. "I mean, just look at you! I can't believe I thought you were ten
when we first met. Now… Well, I mean, you look about my age."
Chance nods. "Maybe a bit younger, but yeah." They back away, and Izuku thinks he sees their
cheeks darken, but with the uneven lighting of the room, it's hard to tell. "The grownups here do a
good job of makin' us eat—we're all former street trash, ya know? Most of us learned how to
conserve food the hard way."
"Good," Izuku says. "Er, I mean it's good that you're eating, not that you had to save food for later
when you were—"
"I understood you," Chance says, cutting him off. "You don't gotta explain yourself to me. You
were the only one I talked to for weeks."
"You had Aizawa," Izuku points out.
"That greasebag? Nah, he just liked to watch me eat. I'm pretty sure he fell asleep a few times that
he was down there with me."
"The other cops?" Izuku tries. Chance doesn't dignify that with words and looks at him with a
raised eyebrow. "Right, my bad. Um, my mom said something about you having lawyers? Sorry
that I haven't been in touch. It's been… busy."
"No worries," Chance says. "Here, let's sit down. I promise that none of the stains are recent."
Izuku nods and sits down. Chance joins him on the opposite side of the couch that his mother's on.
They quickly make themselves comfortable by resting one arm on the back of the couch and
resting an ankle on the opposite knee, turned inward to face Izuku. "Has Mom been talking to
you?" Izuku asks. "Because she mentioned that she knew you, just not well, right?"
"I've visited a few times," his mother says. "Just to talk to Chance and tell them about what you've
been up to."
"Yep," Chance confirms. "She's been here twice a week since you last saw me. I heard that you're
gettin' therapy?"
"Yeah, but where is here?" Izuku asks. "Or what is this place, I mean."
"A shelter, but a bajillion times better than whatever most cities call a shelter." Chance shifts in
their seat, digging deeper into the cushions and itching clothes to Izuku. "It's kind of like a foster
home, but it predates the modern foster care system so it's kinda in limbo law-wise. At least, that's
how my lawyer put it."
"How is your case, by the way? It must be progressing if you've got a lawyer."
Chance's smile brightens. "It's going great. They locked the bastard up, and he barely speaks when
we're at the courthouse. His lawyers never look happy, but mine buy me ice cream."
Izuku chuckles. "That's good. Are they certain that he'll be found guilty?"
"After the jury was shown pictures of me right after you locked me up, and video evidence of
him… if he's not found guilty, then the judge and jury are idiots," Chance finishes, a little bit down
from where they started energy-wise but still cheerful.
"I'm sure you'll be fine," Izuku comforts. "And on the off chance he's not put in jail, you'll still be
living here, right? You'll be safe—I'll even visit you and check in!"
"Thanks, I appreciate it. Have you been in the news lately?" Chance asks.
"No?" Izuku says, though he really can't remember. "I don't think so at least. Why?"
"Oh, no reason," Chance says, admiring their nails. "I just didn't realize that you were a celebrity is
all."
Izuku feels his face heat up. "I'm not a celebrity!" he insists. "I just—"
"Am really popular and have a Wikipedia page," Chance finishes.
"I have a what?” Izuku asks, completely shocked. Beside him, his mother laughs.
"Sweetie, you've had at least forty articles written about you online, not to mention the news
reports." His mother rests a hand on his shoulder and gives it a squeeze. "I thought it was obvious.
Though to be fair, I only know because I googled you after I got a call from Aizawa that day you
took those men to the hospital."
"... You googled me?" Izuku feels like he should be appalled, or at least disappointed, because who
looks up their own family on the internet? Even if it's not inherently wrong, it just doesn't sit right
with him for some reason.
"I did too," Chance declares shamelessly. "One of the ankle biters is a fan of yours and got real
excited when they heard that I was arrested by you."
"Ankle biters?" Izuku asks, ignoring how being arrested by him is apparently an honor.
"Kids five to seven, maybe eight," Chance says, holding one of their arms out about a meter off the
ground. "The tiny ones. They all really like you, mostly 'cause your hero name's easy to say. 'Deku,
Deku, Deku,'" he imitates a young child. Izuku briefly remembers how kids would chant the same
way as he failed to climb a tree, but now it's different, and he feels his smile widen.
"I'm glad I'm popular with them," Izuku says. "Are they around or…?"
"Oh, I wouldn't talk to them if I were you," Chance warns. "Unless you want to be climbed on like
a jungle gym or have your hair done up in ten different styles."
"I wouldn't mind." Izuku runs the back of his neck. "It would make their day, right? And I don't
know if you heard, but I'm trying to get some money for places like these, so…"
"I did know about that," Chance admits. "It's nice to know that my hero is still as selfless as I
thought he was." Then, upon seeing Izuku's blush, "Quit it! We had one mushy moment and that's
all I can handle. I'll go up and grab some of 'em. Don't get mad at me if you wind up missing half
your hair."
"I won't!" Izuku says as they get up and head down the hall.
"You might," his mother says, hiding a smile. "I've seen most of the kids here—they're very hyper.
And you have a lot of hair, young man." She reaches over and gently pushes a strand out of his
face, tucking it behind his ear. It's not long enough to stay there and falls back down. Izuku shakes
his head a little, laughing softly.
"I think I might need a haircut," he says. "It's actually starting to get into my eyes when I spar and
stuff."
"I thought Nejire likes it long?" his mother says. "Don't you want to keep it that way?"
"Maybe." Izuku shrugs. "I don't mind it that much, and I can just get a headband or something. It's
getting colder, too, so getting a cut might not work out so well."
His mother shakes her head. "Like you'd let the barber cut it that short. You've had a puffball for
hair as long as I can remember. Like your grandpa."
"He had curly hair?" Izuku asks. He's seen photographs of his mom's family before, but all of them
were from before he was born and long after his grandfather lost his locks.
"Yep." His mother reaches up and ruffles his hair, forcing some of it down on his face. "It was
really floppy, though. He used gel when he was younger, but he stopped caring when he hit forty, I
think. Yours only sticks out because of your father, I'd bet."
Izuku pushes his hair back into place. "Did Dad have curly hair?" he asks.
"More wavy," his mother informs. "And he'd get this awful bedhead all the time. I swear it looked
like he was shocked with electricity some mornings." His mother chuckles, reminiscing. "But he
always managed to get it combed in time for work."
"What color was it?"
"Black," his mother says. "And not black like that woman we saw earlier. Black like a shadow, the
same color all over and almost matte. I asked if he dyed it, but he always said no. I have my doubts,
though."
Izuku opens his mouth to reply, but the sound of heavy footsteps cuts him off. Chance bursts into
the room, quickly slamming the door behind them just as a flurry of small and rapid footsteps take
the place of theirs. Small fists bang on the door and cheers creep through the wood. Chance looks
at Izuku and smiles. "Just say when?"
Interested, Izuku stands and walks over to the door. "How many are there?" he asks.
"Anywhere from ten to twenty," Chance estimates. "I didn't do a head count. I just told 'em Deku's
here, and well…" They gently knock the back of their head on the door to prove their point.
"Alright. Let them in."
"It's your funeral."
The door doesn't swing open. It explodes instead, sending Chance staggering forward and the knob
into the wall. Izuku is hit with the full force of what feels like an army of children, only staying
upright because he thought to brace himself. The children all cling on to him, most hugging his
legs, though a few make their way up to his arms and one claws up to his shoulders.
"Deku!" they scream. And one must have some kind of voice Quirk because he flinches at the
massive volume.
"Play heroes with me! Please!"
"No, no, sign my shirt, first!"
"Can I have a hug?"
"Let me feel your hair!"
"Up, up, pick me up!"
Izuku smiles, overwhelmed but happy. They don't weigh that much, so he has no problem standing
even as they try to scale his arms. "Hi, everyone," he says. "Um, what are your names?"
It's the wrong thing to ask because all of them shout at the same time. Izuku laughs it off and
scoops one of them up one-handed. He bends down to grab another, but two or maybe three kids
jump right on his back. He stands up straight, bouncing a little, just enough to jostle them around.
They giggle into his ears, and one paws at his hair. Looking around, Izuku sees that there are about
fifteen of them, all of them smiling.
"Alright, you guys gotta get down," he says gently. "Others deserve a turn, right?" They moan and
groan but don't fight as Izuku sets them back down and lifts another batch up. It goes on like that
for a little while, with him being used as a jungle gym as he talks about hero stuff—mostly about
who the best hero is—but then one of them asks to be lifted to the ceiling.
Seeing no problem with it, Izuku lifts them by the armpits and raises them above his head. It's not
quite enough to reach, though, so he has to cheat a little. Getting on his toes isn't enough so he
gently activates Blackwhip, the dark strand curling around the child's torso and taking them to
touch the ceiling.
All of a sudden that becomes the center of attention. Izuku sits down on the floor as they tug at his
pants and has a few strands slip out of his arms for the kids to play with. They take to it with joy
and laughter, trying to shape it or waving it around like lassos. Izuku relaxes and tries to keep them
all in sight because Blackwhip is strong enough to do some real damage if he isn't careful. Though
One for All also seems to be focused on keeping them safe because it swims about in the back of
his mind like a cat admiring her kits as they roughhouse.
"Can you make it look like a horse?"
"Huh? Sure!" Izuku concentrates, conjuring a strand out of his right palm. He hasn't done shapes
before, but the delicate work needed to make something like a horse isn't all that different from
making a sling, which he's done before in class. In a few seconds, the little boy has a rocking horse,
perfectly sized for him. He jumps in delight and gets on, shouting about cowboys.
All of the kids want personal toys after that, and Izuku spends a lot of time making animals, cars,
and even a tree to climb. By the time everyone has something to play with, Izuku can feel the strain
on his body. Most of the creations need multiple strands, and thick ones too. And the sheer volume
of them is more than he'd usually put out while in combat. But the kids love them, so he holds his
whips in place and lets them enjoy their fun.
"I didn't know you could do that," his mother says from the couch.
"I didn't either," Izuku replies. "Or maybe I did. I've done a lot of fancy things with the strands.
Never something like this, though."
"I'll say." Chance gets up from the couch and nudges the tree of Blackwhip—which is really just
three strands coiled around each other—before helping a girl hang upside down on it. "You're like
a portable playground."
Izuku laughs. "I guess if the hero thing doesn't work out, I'll go into childcare."
"I think you'd be great at it," his mother says. Izuku looks over and sees that she's dabbing her
cheeks with a handkerchief. "You'd be the perfect older brother."
"Oh, Mom."
They get ready to go soon after that. The children all complain, but by then they're already
yawning. Chance and a few caretakers haul them upstairs and thank Izuku for his time and tell him
that he's welcome back whenever, just as long as he gives them a call before he shows up. Izuku
says thanks and rolls the stiffness out of his arms. Sitting still for that long gets to him, especially if
he's tensed up like he is when he uses Blackwhip. He'll have to stretch when he gets home so he
feels fine tomorrow.
Right before they go, Chance takes Izuku aside. They thank him again, but they linger for a while,
and Izuku has to ask what's wrong.
"Nothing," they say. "I was just hoping that she'd come down to see you."
"Who?" Izuku asks.
Chance looks up at the ceiling, though from their expression, Izuku feels like they're looking
through it. "Rose," they sigh. "She really likes you—I think she was the one who introduced the
rest of 'em to your shenanigans—but she… how much time do you have?"
"It's Friday, so a lot, I think," Izuku says. "Why? It's past ten, shouldn't she be asleep? Er, how old
is Rose?"
"Ten," Chance says, and then whines. "We think. She's been here for four years, and she looked
about six when she got here they say. But she's one of those cases where they don't know. It
happens sometimes; people dump their kids because they don't give a shit, and… and…"
"It's fine." Izuku gives their shoulder a firm squeeze. "You asked if I had time. Why?"
"She stays up reading on Fridays," Chance says. "Could you come up and talk to her? Five
minutes, that's all."
"I'll talk for an hour, if you'd like."

They laugh. "Sure. Thank you."
"No problem. Lead the way."
Upstairs turns out to be the attic since Izuku climbs up to the top floor and then up another,
narrower set of stairs that has a sturdy-looking handrail attached to the wall beside it. He reaches
the top and stops in front of a thick curtain. Chance ascends behind him and pulls him down to
whisper in his ear.
"Rose is tough, but she looks really frail. She's been through a lot, so she's really mature. Just be
you and you'll be fine."
"What do you want me to do, though?" Izuku murmurs back.
"Talk to her," Chance says. "Just a normal conversation. She'll be happy to see you. Not that she'll
show it."
Izuku nods, and with a deep breath, he steps towards the curtain. "Um, knock knock?" he says,
gingerly pulling back the curtain. "May I come in?"
"Sure," a voice says, and like Chance said, it's frail and weak. Izuku pulls the curtain apart some
more and steps inside. He's met with a soft red glow of a shaded lamp and the soft scent of vanilla.
A dresser is to his right, the top decorated with hero figurines. But most of the space is taken up by
a bed. Red sheets, red paint for the frame, and, strangely, green pillowcases. Izuku almost missed
the girl nestled between them with a book on her lap. Almost.
"It's nice to meet you, Rose. I'm Deku." Izuku walks forward and stops at the foot of her bed.
"Really?" Rose asks, shutting her book with one arm because, well, that's all she has. The right
sleeve of her shirt hangs down, empty. She looks tired, the kind of tired Izuku sees in Aizawa. Like
she's been tired for a long time and will be tired for years to come. Her eyes are dull, though her
lips quirk up. "It can't be that hard for an imposter to sneak in."
"I'm the real thing," Izuku insists. He reaches into his pocket and hands her his license. "Here, have
a look."
Rose accepts the plastic and holds it between her fingers, which are long and thin. Her brow
scrunches and she leans forward, causing her hair to fall down onto her face. She looks back up at
him. "It's real," she says, smiling.
Izuku nods. "It is. Do you mind if I sit down?" he asks, intending to use the chair beside her bed.
"Please," Rose says, pointing to the bottom part of her bed. "Why are you here to see me?"
"Because someone told me you'd like to talk to me," Izuku answers as he sits down. "And I like
talking to new people." It's a bold-faced lie most of the time, but with people like Rose?
"Oh. What do you want to talk about?" Rose shifts and leans forward. Izuku watches as her arm—
which is way too skinny to be healthy—moves her book to the nightstand.
"What's that about?" Izuku asks, gesturing to the book.
"Heroes," Rose says with a smile. "I really like heroes."
"Me too," Izuku agrees. "Do you want to be one when you get older?"
Rose shrugs. "Maybe. But…" she looks down at where her arm should be. "It's not exactly in the
picture for me."
"You can be a hero with a missing limb. Um, I can't think of one off the top of my head, but there
are ones missing an arm or even a leg."
"Thank you, but I knew that already." Rose grabs a bottle of water from the nightstand and takes a
sip. It's slow and deliberate, and she takes a big gasp of hair afterwards. "And my arm isn't the only
thing wrong with me."
"There's nothing wrong with you," Izuku says, almost on instinct.
"I don't have a Quirk," Rose says bluntly, and Izuku sucks in a heavy breath. "Yeah, I know," Rose
continues. "It's hopeless. And the worst part is that I should have one, but…" She gestures to her
skinny form.
"Malnourishment can lead to stunted growth," Izuku finishes. "And since Quirks are physical and
take up valuable calories to use, the body doesn't bother to activate it."
"You've read Marsh's study," Rose states.
"I have," Izuku admits. First when he was four, after the diagnosis, though he hardly understood a
word of it then. Nedzu had him read it again recently, and he picked up a lot more information
from it. "But there's still a chance that if you eat well and exercise that it'll manifest. The study was
about people who overcame the problem and helping those with it to get their Quirks."
"I have one arm," Rose points out. "And a bunch of other problems."
"All problems have solutions," Izuku argues. "There has to be a way for you to overcome
everything."
Rose smiles faintly. "I wish. But it's hopeless."
"It's not," Izuku says forcefully. Rose freezes at the tone of his voice so he quickly corrects
himself. "I'm sorry, but seeing someone ignoring their dream because they don't have hope just… I
can't let it happen."
"You're like I thought you would be," Rose observes.
"Thank you," Izuku says. "But that's not what we're talking about, is it? How much do you want to
be a hero?"
Rose sighs. "More than anything."
"Clearly not," Izuku says, voice very matter-of-fact.
"Excuse—"
"If you wanted to be a hero more than anything, then you'd work for it despite your shortcomings.
And I know it would be difficult for you to do anything related to being a hero, but what's
important is that you try. Walk around more than you do right now. You're really young and small,
so take it easy. After you can walk, run. After you can run, jump. Build on your improvements
gradually. And eat well, too. Do you have an eating disorder or anything?"
"I get bad acid reflux if I eat too much. I eat a little throughout the day, not as much as the others,"
she adds, seeing the question in Izuku's eyes before he can ask.
"I'm not a doctor, but I'm sure there's a way to make that go away. Medicine is amazing nowadays,
you know?" Rose says nothing. "And you don't even have to do all of this now! You can become a
hero at any age, so maybe when you're older, you'll be strong enough to take the tests. Wouldn't
that be great?"
"It would," Rose agrees.
Izuku smiles. "Definitely. I know that you can be a hero—not because everyone can, but because
you want to. And that's all you really need. Want, and a little bit of effort."
"Thank you," Rose says. "I… I want to try, but I can barely make it up the steps on my own."
"Then don't go up the steps alone." Rose looks at him like he's spouting nonsense, so he quickly
explains. "We all need help sometimes. I did, Chance did—everyone has. So don't be ashamed to
get help. Walk with someone so they're there to catch you when you fall—and you will fall,
because that's something we all do, too. Don't be discouraged by needing help or failing because
the fact that you're trying at all makes you better than those that don't."
Rose's breath hitches, and Izuku thinks for a moment that he made a mistake, but then she smiles.
Izuku leaves the home that night with a tear-stained shirt and the warmth of a one-armed hug.
Chapter End Notes
Did y'all order two servings of fluff? No? Sorry, cause that's what I have. Next one
will have more therapy and some Izuku Nejire time.
I'd you didn't know, standardized tests suck. I sat in a room with twenty other people,
filling in bubbles for nothing for two hours a day this last week. I know it's so the
school can see how smart their students are, but they really could do with finding a
better way then the current system. And I'm not even done yet! I've got another one
tomorrow that's gonna suck.
Anyways, I hoped you enjoyed this. Cheers!

Worth
Chapter Notes
Thank you all so much for 5k kudos!
As of July 11, 2021 this chapter has been edited by my beta, Flauel
He's cold. The kind of cold that stings the back of your throat whenever you breathe in the air and
makes fingers and toes go numb. He breathes some air into his gloved hands. It helps a little, but
nothing can stop the biting wind that pushes against his side. He tries to move a bit more, hoping
that it'll warm him up. He's forced to stop when his heart beats irregularly and he feels the need for
an inhaler. For the millionth time in his life, he curses his frail body. (That's… not right. It can't be
right. He's strong and muscled. He can't be frail. Right?)
"We're almost there, brother. You can rest once we step inside."
He turns to his older sibling (he's an only child, though, he's sure of it) and gazes at his smile. It's
all lips and no teeth, the kind he reserves for jokes and entertainment. It's a far cry from his
animalistic snarl that he boldly wears in meetings and before combat. He pulls the hood of his
parka tighter around his head and looks away from his only family member left.
"You couldn't've picked a better time to go?" he says. "The dead of night in the dead of winter is an
awful time for travel. Not to mention why we're going." He doesn't even try to hide his contempt
for his brother's venture—he never has, actually. Ever since he took his first Quirk, his actions
started to become more and more atrocious. It makes him want to vomit.
"Brother, I have no idea what you're talking about," the older man says, voice laced with sarcasm
and delight. "I wanted to show you the beauty of the North Korean mountains. I know how much
you love unique landforms and natural beauty. The province of South Hamgyong has such fine
sights to see."
"And the government on the verge of collapse had no bearing on your choice of destination."
His brother laughs, a familiar snarl on his face. "North Korea has been crumbling since the
nineteen-nineties, but they had tourist groups traveling through all the way up to the start of the
Wars. I'm simply getting my passport stamped by one of the rarest countries to do so. A gentleman
like me considers himself a world traveler—and you are one, too. Since you tag along with me so
often."
"World travelers don't enslave those weaker than them, brother," he says, making the last word
sound like an insult. "You whine and complain about how tyrannical our government is, and yet
you run around taking advantage of the vulnerable. World traveler you are not; hypocrite you are."
"But my employees live much better lives under me than the system," his brother argues. "In my
small territory, there is no more sitting at a desk working twelve hours only to go home to a dead
home and an exhausted wife! No, my people smile all of the time! They are free to do what they
want four days out of the week! Their families are cared for and they'll never have to worry about
money again. And if they're willing to get their hands a bit dirty, then more power to them. A man
who is not willing to fight for what he wants is not a man at all."
"You force them to steal from those loyal to their government!" he screams. His voice bounces off
the side of the cliff and travels through the snow-filled air. "Four days of freedom for three days of
being a monster is an awful deal!"
"But my people are happy. I'm happy," his brother says like it's the most important thing in the
world. "My system is so much better than the old one. And in fifty years, when all of my projects
are complete? The whole of Asia will be under my rule, living in a utopia designed by me."
"A utopia for you and you alone, maybe."
"Perish the thought; you'd have an amazing life as well."
"But not your employees who you care for and respect oh so much."
"There will be labor laws," his brother defends. "But the ones at the top should have something
extra, no? The working man will have a better life because of me, and as payment, I get to be the
king. It's only logical."
"You're a hypocrite," he says, shaking in rage. "You ruin the lives of officials because they waste
out taxes, and yet you plan to do the same. You're not a revolutionary; you're a dictator in the
making."
"Just following in the footsteps of all the old greats, brother dearest." He reaches over and floofs
his hair like he used to do when they were small. "Stalin, Hitler, Mao, Napoleon, and Castro were
all born into awful systems but rose up to overturn them. Of course I fully intend to bring about a
better world after my revolution—genocide is such a waste of resources, you know, and how can
you have subjects if they're all starving? Those old idiots had it wrong. You need to make sure the
people are free and happy before you take what you want from them. Or at least make it seem like
they're free. There isn't much of a difference, anyways."
"Lenin led the Russian Revolution. Stalin was a murderer who stole his position the first moment
he could and ruined any chances for a free and better Soviet Union. When's the last time you
opened a history book, brother? I knew your evil plans for the future took up a lot of headspace, but
to think that you've forgotten basic history?"
"Stalin was a fine general in the Russian Civil War and was a dedicated socialist before he ever
met Lenin. But my point still stands—he went about his rule completely wrong and made mistakes
I won't repeat." His brother suddenly stops at a random section of their path. To their right is a
drop, perhaps fifty meters to the rocky bottom. To the left is a sheer cliff face, its brown color only
visible by the ball of light in his brother's hand. "We're here."
And then the wall of rock splits in two, revealing a narrow spiral staircase. "I thought we were
getting the royal treatment," he says, taking in the rusty iron of the steps.
"Once we get inside, things will be better." His brother steps forward, cautious of something he
can't see. "Stay behind me. We wouldn't want you to die from a fall, now would we?"
The walk down is long and dark, and the only light is from his brother's hand. The staircase creaks
and moans with each step they take, swaying back and forth to the beat of a silent song. "This is all
part of an old missile bunker, you know," his brother answers a question no one asked.
"The North Koreans had nuclear weapons for years in the twenty-first century. And Japan didn't do
anything about it! They just let a hostile power test their world-ending bombs when they, out of
any other country, know the power those weapons have. It was the same with China, too. They
didn't raise one word—don't give me that look, you know they weren't at all loud even if they did
—about taking the kind of weapons that scarred their national psyche from the two countries that
hated them the most!"
He doesn't respond. He's heard this rant a thousand times and knows exactly how it will progress.
"And then guess what? Japan got their own nuclear warheads in 2080! Just for extra defense
against China's Quirked soldiers. Still, somehow those idiots managed to forget the terror of the
bomb in less than a hundred and fifty years—it's easily the top reason for why the current
government should be torn down!"
"It's already been torn down," he spits. "By militants like you."
His brother rolls his eyes. "I'm willing to bet that half of the old officials are in office right now.
The coup was a sham intended to give people the impression of change. It's like when you're
playing fetch with a dog and fake-throwing the stick. The dog runs in the direction the stick should
be in, convinced that things are changing, but really the situation is the same. You still have the
stick."
"Careful," he warns, "those are your future subjects you're calling dogs."
"Witty as always, brother dearest. Please, never change."
The rest of the walk down passes. The two brothers step off the staircase and into a small hallway
at the end of which is an elevator. They get in the elevator and even further down. When the doors
finally open, they get a view of what they came for. Or rather what the older came for and what the
younger was forced into.
Rows upon rows of seats circle a small square ring, perhaps fifteen meters squared. Every spot is
full, and people cheer wildly. Above hangs a massive screen showing a zoomed-in feed of the ring
below. Two people fight, one with fire and the other with rock for skin. Vendors walk around
selling snacks and drinks, and at the top of the rows of seats are private boxes and gambling
stations.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" his brother says. "When the government is weak, people will do as they wish,
and this is what they wish for. Entertainment, the chance to win money, and all the alcohol they
can stomach. This is the human condition, brother. And it's what I will use to make myself a king."
"I think we should find a seat, your highness," he says sarcastically. "The people walking around
are staring at us."
His brother waves him off. "Let them stare. They have nothing on me. Though someone from the
other party should be sending someone to fetch us…"
"That would be me," a silky smooth and feminine voice says. The two brothers turn around to see a
small Asian woman with tanned skin and dark brown eyes. Her posture says that she's sophisticated
and ladylike, but the way her muscles coil beneath her shirt and strain against the sleeves say that
she's a fighter. "Unless you're not the Shigaraki brothers?" (What? That's wrong. It has to be wrong.
There's no way he can be—)
"Oh, we are," his brother says, stepping forward. He absolutely towers over the shorter woman,
and he tries to intimidate her. He doesn't quite succeed. "We were simply getting a read on the
messenger, right?" He turns to him.
"I have no say in what he does," he says honestly. "I find that it's best if you smile and nod when
he's in one of his moods. If you reply, he'll take it as encouragement to keep going, and the last
person to debate him for too long lost a tongue." It's one part joke and one part warning. His
brother gets it and laughs loudly. She does not and turns around to lead them somewhere else.
They walk past a bunch of private boxes and even a few restaurants before reaching an expensive-
looking door. The woman knocks twice and steps back. Then the door swings open and three men
with mutations come out. All of them have matching tattoos on their arms and stare at his brother
menacingly.
"I see I've received a warm welcome," his brother remarks. "Well, I shouldn't be long. Wait here
for me, will you? And girl, keep an eye on my baby brother. He tends to wander, and his
constitution is quite weak."
"Get a move on," one of the guards orders. A second later, the door locks shut behind the four of
them, and he's left to stand there with the woman while people rave over a pair of fighters.
"I'm sorry you have to go through this," she says.
"I am, too," he says. But suddenly, He is not He. He is someone else, someone older and familiar.
He and He divide, and He becomes Izuku. Izuku crumbles to the ground, clutching his head in
pain. He and She rush to his side, comforting him with gentle touches. But it doesn't help because
Izuku is He and She as well as himself simultaneously. It's a sensory overload, and he doesn't even
feel like he's in his own body.
"You'll make it through this, Nine," someone whispers. "First-person is rough, but we can't help it.
You're so close to the Quirk that the line between you and us is blurry while you dream. But you're
tough and strong. You're going to wake up feeling great, okay? That's an order."
Everything fades to black, and Izuku wakes up to the sound of his alarm. Frantically, he hits the
snooze button. He regrets it the moment silence takes the room, suffocating him with a lack of
ambient noise that he didn't realize he needed before. Blood rushes in his ears, and his heart
hammers in his chest. One for All is active beneath his skin, making him glow green and red in the
darkness of his room. It seems confused and worried, and Izuku suddenly realizes that it is just as
lost as he is on the matter.
"I was the First in my dream," Izuku whispers out loud. "I felt what he felt and did what he did.
And last time I was the Second, I think. And at the end, I was both? Or we were us?" He sighs and
rubs his fingers under his eyes. "It's so confusing and weird. What am I going to do?"
One for All strains against him just a bit, like it wants to do something on its own. Then it stops
and relaxes inside of him. The message is clear. I'm part of this too.
Izuku nods and slides out of bed. "Thank you. We'll do it together." One for All agrees and Izuku
starts his day as usual. Last time he had a dream like that, he felt exhausted and scared, mostly due
to what the dream consisted of. But this time, he feels fine. A little slow to get up and with a fuzzy
memory of what happened, but…
Unless you're not the Shigaraki brothers?
Oh, we are.
No. No, no, no. Nonononononono, NO!

Izuku starts to hyperventilate and shake, causing the floor to creak and knocking over his empty
water bottle. He tries to get a hold of himself, but he can already feel himself slipping. Because if
Shigaraki Tomura bears the same name as All for One and the first holder, then that means…
He just barely manages to call All Might. His hands shake so bad that he nearly drops the phone,
but when it starts to ring, he slams it against his face and holds it there with his shoulder. He slides
down the kitchen cabinets and sits on the floor, on the verge of tears.
"... Izuku? It's six in the morning. Why are you calling me?"
"I think All for One might be alive."
"How sure are you?"
"P-pretty sure. I just… my dream, and Shigaraki, and, and, and—"
"I'll be right over, kid. Just a few moments. I'll be on the phone with you the whole time. Breathe,
okay? You're safe."
"Okay."
All Might arrives after the longest two minutes of Izuku's life. He knocks on the front door of the
apartment, but Izuku struggles to open it. When he does, All Might rushes in wearing a set of baby
blue pajamas that barely fit his hero form.
"Come on," he says, supporting Izuku by the shoulders. "Let's go to the gym. Can you walk?"
"My legs," Izuku says, looking down and cringing and how they shake. "I don't know if I can…"
"That's fine," All Might says. "You're as light as a feather anyway."
"What—"
Before Izuku can complete his question, All Might bends down and scoops him off the ground and
gently closes the door as he steps inside. He quickly makes for the balcony and pushes the sliding
door open all the way. He still had to go through sideways and even that's a tight fit. "Brace
yourself, Young Izuku," he says, bending his knees. Izuku holds on to his arms for dear life as they
launch off of the cement and into the cool morning air.
They reach the gym in less than a minute. Izuku never once stops scanning the space around them,
still wary of an attack even if he's with his master. But All Might, strangely, doesn't seem the least
bit frightened. His perfectly white teeth shine in the dull mix of moonlight and early morning sun.
He's smiling. Izuku knows he shouldn't be surprised, but it feels like a miracle. The man's greatest
enemy might be alive and waiting, but he's still smiling.
They land on the roof of the gym. Izuku tries to wiggle out of All Might's arms, but the man insists
on carrying him down the three flights of stairs. When they reach the basement, the lights flick on
and All Might nudges Gran Torino from his bed before guiding Izuku into a chair. He slims down
and rolls his shoulders. "This is important," he says loudly into Gran's ear. "Pastries are seventy
percent off at the bakery down the road."
"They are!?" Gran Torino sits up in bed, throwing the covers off and grabbing a pair of shoes that
sit on the floor beside him. "Shit, I didn't work as much last month so I won't be able to buy as
much. Those bastards must know what they're doing. Why, when I get my hands on that link
working the counter, I'll—" He stops short when he sees the fear in Izuku's eyes.
"You lied to me, didn't you, Toshinori?"
"I did."
The older man sighs. "I'll make coffee."
They sit around the table after that, and Gran forces a steaming mug into his hands. He holds it
right, soaking in the warmth; he can't bring himself to take a sip.
"It'll help calm your nerves," Gran says, "and it tastes good. Drink up."
Izuku slowly brings the mug to his lips and takes a small drink. The coffee is bitter and hot, almost
burning his tongue and making him wince. "That's awful," he says, smacking his lips and looking
around for a glass of water he knows isn't there.
"You mean perfect." Gran Torino takes his own drink of coffee. He sets the mug down. "Milk and
sugar are for babies. They take away from the experience of driving it."
"Coffee aside," All Might says, gently cutting in, "we have serious things to discuss. Izuku, you
said that you think All for One is alive. Why?"
Izuku looks down at his coffee, watching as the black liquid swirls around in the mug. He forces
himself to take another sip, the bitterness sharpening his mind. "I had another one of those dreams,
but this time I was the first user."
"Are you sure?" All Might asks cautiously. "Is there a chance that you were the third?"
"I'm very sure," Izuku says. "I was with my… his?" He clutches his head, the sudden pain forcing
him to look down.
"Izuku." All Might rushes forward and grabs onto his wrists, setting the coffee aside. "How bad is
it?"
"N-ot b-bad," Izuku stutters. He forces himself to take a few deep breaths, but the pain won't go
away. "C-can I have another sip?" A third mouthful of black coffee is swallowed, and Izuku tries to
start his story again.
"I was one of the brothers," he says, toeing around what caused the pain. "The younger one. I think
I was twenty-something? Maybe a bit younger, but all of my thoughts were his, and I couldn't
control my body. It was like watching a movie but from the point of view of an actor."
"What happened in the dream?" All Might asks, holding Izuku's hand. "Take your time."
Izuku explains, recounting his dream in as much detail as he can manage. A lot of what he
remembers is fuzzy, but he's sure that the two brothers were called Shigaraki and that the woman
who greeted them was the second holder. When he's done, the mug is completely empty and the
taste of coffee lingers on his breath. Both All Might and Gran look serious, though not at all
worried.
"Shigaraki is a common name—"
"No, it isn't!" Izuku interrupts. "No one wants death in their family name! No one but a villain like
All for One!"
"I wasn't finished," All Might says, voice even and calm. "Shigaraki is a common name among
villains. Gangsters, too. Or at least the Shi part is. Back in the early days, criminals used fake
names to avoid the harsh punishments of the government. I knew that All for One called himself a
Shigaraki, and I figured that the villain you caught with Aizawa was using it as a pseudonym, but
to think that it might have been his actual family name…"
"Does that really matter? He's alive! We need to run—”
"His brains were spilled," Gran butts in. "I kicked a fragment of that bastard's skull with my own
foot. No one can survive having their brains being crushed. No. One."
"But he—"
"Quirks rely on brain input, no?" All Might says, much more gentle than Gran. "If your brain
doesn't work, your Quirk—or Quirks in this case—won't work. No healing Quirk would work
without a brain."
"But what about the body?"
"Burned," All Might says. "I didn't get to watch the cremation, but Tsukauchi did. I'm sure you can
ask him about it if you ask."
"So he's really dead?" All Might and Gran nod. "But what about Shigaraki Tomura? Is he… is he
related to All for One and the first holder?"
"Like I said, it's probably a false name. You don't know how he spelt it, and we don't know how
All for One spelt his name." All Might pats him on the shoulder. "There's no reason to be worried.
It's just some edgy kid using a fake name for extra intimidation. But I am glad you called me," the
man says with a smile. "Now we know the name of the first user. Tsukauchi and I can do some
digging, and I'm sure we'll come up with something. Hopefully, we'll learn more about our
history."
Izuku swallows, slumping into his chair as relief washes over him. "He's dead. He's really, actually
dead."
"I would've thought that with all of your faith in All Might that you wouldn't doubt that he could
get the job done," Gran says.
"I know All Might's strong, but…" Izuku trails off, thinking about how casually All for One talked
about being inspired by some of the most infamous mass murders in history. "All for One just felt
like something else. I… looking back, I felt trapped and scared the whole time I was in his
presence. He-he acted so normal, but I could feel in my bones that he was anything but. And his
smile…” Izuku shutters.
"So he was well on his way to being the King of the Underworld in that memory," All Might
observes. "If we can get a date on that, maybe we can figure out why he was in Korea."
"He's dead, Toshi," Gran reminds. "There's no reason to waste time on a trail that ended a decade
ago."
"Ah, you're right," All Might agrees. He stands up and stretches. "Forgive me for getting lost in my
own interests, Izuku. I don't think I'll ever be able to get over what he did. How are you feeling?"
"Better now," Izuku says. "Thank you for helping me."
"There's no need to thank us," All Might says, stepping forward and ruffling his hair. "We're your
teachers; our job is to help you."
The three of them sit for a while, gazing at empty coffee mugs and the scratched surface of the
table Gran finally got for his basement. "I should be getting ready for school soon," Izuku says
absently.
"My boy, didn't Hound Dog talk about this in your sessions? When something serious like this
happens, you shouldn't try to push through."
"Yeah, but it was no big deal, right?" Izuku shrugs. "I was worried over nothing."
All Might grabs his wrists. "Your feelings are always a big deal, Izuku. You should take the day
off. Or spend it doing something not taxing. I know you took up knitting. Or maybe…" He looks at
Gran.
"The kid would like it," the older man says, "I don't have a problem with taking him."
"Taking me where?" Izuku asks.
"Nana's grave."
"I wouldn't want to intrude—"
"You wouldn't be," Gran says. "You've got just as much right to it as Toshinori does."
"I want to go," Izuku says. "And I'm really happy that you want me to. But I have an appointment
with Hanson and Hound Dog, and there's a test today, and I'm going out with Nejire—"
"Ah, so that's why you're eager to leave," Gran says, laughing. "Got a hot date, huh? Can't say I
blame ya."
"It's not a date!" Izuku cries, face red. "We're just seeing a movie."
"And I'm sure you'll share a large popcorn, and then your hands will accidentally touch, and—"
"Spending time with friends is good for you," All Might interrupts. "And romantic or not, your
outing will be fun. But are you sure you want to go to school?"
"I am," Izuku says firmly. "Maybe we can visit Nana this Sunday? Or Saturday if that works
better."
"Whenever is fine; there's no need to rush. Now, hurry home! You've told me enough about
Aizawa for me to know that he doesn't tolerate tardiness!"
The school day passes so fast that Izuku barely feels like he did anything. Days spent at U.A aren't
what anyone would call relaxing or easy, but this one was. His friends are all as amazing as usual,
and they even get to play games instead of purely combat or rescue-focused drills. Strangely, both
Mirio and Tamaki shy away from Izuku and Nejire, and the knowing smiles Mirio sends Izuku's
way don't help clear the confusion. And Nejire acts differently, too. She's always been really
affectionate, but it's more prominent than usual. There are more hugs, and whenever they stand
close together, she leans on him like a post, saying she's tired of standing for so long. Izuku doesn't
mind, though. Not one bit.
After school, Izuku heads to Hound Dog's office. He knocks and enters as usual, but unlike usual,
someone walks out before he can close the door. It happens so fast that he barely catches a glimpse
of white and black before Hound Dog tells him to take a seat.
"Was that—"
"Patient privacy, kid. Couldn't tell you even if I wanted to," Hound Dog says, drinking from his
thermos. "Coffee?"
"No thanks," Izuku replies as he takes a seat on the couch. "I had my fill this morning."
"Why's that?" Hound Dog asks. "You don't normally drink anything caffeinated other than green
or black tea."
"I had another one of those weird dreams I'm talking to Doctor Hanson about," Izuku admits.
"Some… friends of mine helped me out, and they kinda forced it on me. It still helped though! I'm
really grateful that I have them."
"Midoriya, we talked about this. You're supposed to take the day off when you've had a distressing
dream like that."
"I know," Izuku says. "But it wasn't as bad as the last one, and I slept the whole night through."
"Fine," Hound Dog relents. "But you can't do something like that often. The human body and mind
need rest. How would you feel if one of your friends came to school after having a night terror?"
"Worried," Izuku instantly says. "I'd want them to go back home and sleep."
"And why should it be different if the person having the night terror is you?"
"But I didn't have a night terror?" Izuku looks at Hound Dog.
"Not today, but you have before, and you might have one again. Why should you not give yourself
the same amount of care as your friends?"
"I don't know," Izuku says honestly. "I just… I'm not sure."
"Do you think it's because you were Quirkless for all of those years?"
"How do you know that?" Izuku asks, unintentionally defensive.
"I have full access to your medical files," Hound Dog explains. "Your Quirk manifested in the
winter of last year. The amount of skill you have with it after such a short time is quite impressive."
"How do my years of being Quirkless affect me? I have a Quirk now. And I'm over what happened
before I enrolled at UA."
"You are?" Hound Dog asks.
"Yes," Izuku says. "It was a bad time, but things are better now. That's all I need to feel better."
"It's good that you're happy now," Hound Dog praises. "But I think there's still some remnants
from that time in your life."
"What do you mean?"
"How were you treated in your middle and elementary school years?"
Izuku thinks back, though he doesn't have to go far. "Like a waste of space," he says. "Everyone
either hated me or thought I may as well not exist. No one wanted to be my friend, and, well, my
nickname was Deku, so…"
Hound Dog nods. "I see. That's enough, thank you. When you call someone attractive, what do you
think happens?"
"I—what?"
"Humor me," Hound Dog says. "Actually, that's not a good example. When you call someone
amazing, what happens?"
"They usually smile."
"And?"
"They thank me?"
"What else?"
"They feel better about themselves."
Hound Dog snaps his fingers. "Bingo. When you call a person something, they think of themselves
as that thing. You call a person great over and over again, and they'll think they're great. Call a
person smart, and they'll think they're smart. Call a person a useless waste of space…"
"And they'll think they're worthless." Izuku sighs depressingly.
"And that has and will have effects on your day-to-day life."
"How?"
"You rush into danger without a care for your own life. You did it at the license exam, when you
were shot, and when you dove through that portal."
"But that's what heroes do?" Izuku says. "They risk their lives for the good of others."
"That's a topic for another time. I'm sorry for deflecting, but that's a loaded statement that we can't
unpack right now. It's got to do with more than your time being Quirkless."
"Okay…"
"Thank you for understanding. But do you see how your self-image affects your actions?"
"But I like my body?"
Hound Dog shakes his head. "Self-image is about more than looks, kid. It's about how you think of
yourself. And after years of being beat down, you think your own life is worthless."
"No I don't," Izuku argues. "I don't want to die."
"That's not the same thing." Hound Dog explains, "Being suicidal is at times because of a person's
low self-worth, but what you have is something different. You want to live life and enjoy it—I can
tell from how you talk about your day-to-day life—but you think that you're worth nothing to the
world around you."
"I do," Izuku admits.
"Yeah, you do."
"I… I want to be better. How can I fix it?"
"You're already part of the way there." Izuku looks up in confusion. Hound Dog smiles. "You've
got friends that tell you how amazing you are. You have teachers who praise you for your
accomplishments. That's already going to help a little on your self-worth, but you have to accept the
compliments. You can't try to brush them off, alright?"
"Alright."
"You can also try to recognize your own achievements," Hound Dog suggests. "Every time you try
to do something that you find to be hard and succeed at it, bask in your accomplishment. Tell
yourself, out loud, that you did great because you are great. We all think you're a damn good hero,
kid. It's time you start thinking the same."
Chapter End Notes
Not me setting a massive angst chapter that's a ways down the road so it hurts that
much more when we get to it. No, but seriously, I'm exited for what's happening after
this arc is done. It's going to be so much fun to write, and the comments that you guys
will leave... I can't wait.
The next one with have another therapy sesh and the Nejire not-date. I'm pretty sure I
said that it would be in this chapter, but you all know I'm a liar. Anyways, I hope you
enjoyed. Cheers!
PS, I posted a new fic, which is about Quirkless Izuku learning from Miruko. I should
be posting the second chapter of it do day so head to my profile and give it a read!
Happy
Chapter Notes
As of July 11, 2021 this chapter had been edited by my beta, flauel
It's weird going directly from therapy to more therapy. It's also weird to have two therapists. But
considering how weird his life is, Izuku accepts it and moves on with his day. Saying goodbye to
Hound Dog takes five seconds, and getting home takes thirty minutes, though that's only because
the train was late for the first time ever, if Izuku's memory is right. Once he's home, he changes
into something casual, but then he looks in the mirror.
The sweatpants and baggy All Might hoodie would normally be fine—Dr. Hanson told him to
dress to his comfort at some point—but wearing them to the movies with Nejire after doesn't feel
right. So he changes into a pair of nice blue jeans and a t-shirt that doesn't have a joke on it with a
flannel over top. His lightning bolt necklace rests on his chest, and the shirt and flannel aren't
wrinkled. He smoothes them out anyway because it feels like the right thing to do.
And then he nearly misses the train because he tried to fix his hair. But it's fine. He made it by the
skin of his teeth and even managed to get a good seat. The compartment has about as many people
in it as last time, and Izuku tries to relax and look at his phone. It doesn't help. He can't focus on
anything the screen displays, and he ends up putting it back in his pocket. Then, he starts to fidget.
The people to his left and right give him some more space when his legs start to bounce. Then they
give him dirty looks when he starts to tap his fingers against his thighs. He has to bite his bottom
lip to keep from apologizing because even if he knows he's being annoying, he also knows that
acknowledging it wouldn't make the people around him see him as anything other than a
distraction on their commute back home.
Izuku literally sighs with relief when he gets off the train. Partly because it feels good to move;
mostly because he's not bothering the passengers anymore. He starts to walk to the building,
keeping to himself most of the way. But then some tall kid—er, guy because he's built like a man
with a teen's face—runs into him. He lands on his butt; Izuku does not.
"Oh, my bad!" Izuku says, extending a hand. It didn't look like the guy hit his head, but it happened
so fast that he can't be sure. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine!" the guy says, smiling up at him. Izuku blinks and moves his hand around a little.
"Do you need help up?"
"Sure!" The guy grabs Izuku's hand in a strong grip and pulls. Izuku pulls back, too, and the guy
does a little hop once he's standing. "Thank you so much!" he says, bowing slightly.
"Um, no problem," Izuku says, awkwardly tugging on the sleeves of his flannel. "Well, I'll be on
my—"
"You're that Midoriya boy!" the guy exclaims.

"Yeah, I am—"
"It's so nice to meet you!" The guy bows so low that his head touches the floor. His buzzed hair
does little to protect his skull from the pavement. It's an impressive display of flexibility for his
size, but the force he does it with makes Izuku wince.
"Haha, I'm glad to hear it." Izuku rubs his hands together, looking over the guy's shoulder at the
building. Maybe he can see Nejire before their sessions start?
"Can I have your autograph?"
Izuku sucks in a breath. Normally he wouldn't hesitate, but some quick words with Nejire would be
better than signing a sheet of paper. "I don't have a pen."
"That's fine. Here!" A permanent marker is shoved into Izuku's hands, and the guy turns around.
"Sign the back of my jacket, please! Nice and big if you can!"
"Are you sure?" Izuku asks, fiddling with the marker.
"Yep! Ooh, and can you write 'To Inasa' on it? Just so that everyone knows it's my jacket!"
"Sure," Izuku says, uncapping the marker. "Though I don't think many people would mistake their
jacket for yours." 'Because your shoulders are massive and you're closer to being two meters tall
than one' goes unsaid. The guy laughs, and Izuku signs his hero name and the other boy's name.
"Um, do you want me to write anything special? Do you want to be a hero? Or maybe you're a
fan?"
"I'm applying to UA for the next school year!" Inasa (or maybe that's his first name, Izuku doesn't
know) declares. "My uncle's recommending me for it. So maybe a good luck wish for that?"
"Alright," Izuku says, scribbling out a few words. He wishes he could take the time, but again,
Nejire could be waiting for him. After a few seconds, the back of the jacket says Inasa, good luck
on that test. Remember to always go Plus Ultra! Hope to see you at school next year! — Deku.
"There you go," Izuku says, capping the marker. "I gotta get going now, so—"
"Oh! Sorry for keeping you!" Inasa's head hits the ground again, but he quickly gets back up and
takes the marker from Izuku. "I just got so excited seeing you! I watched your Sports Festival
fights, and I follow you on Twitter! I actually started to focus on my flying and hitting the gym
because of you!"
"Hey, that's great!" Izuku exclaims. Then, before he can give himself the chance to start up a long
conversation with him, he says, "But I've got to go now, sorry."
"No, it's fine!" Inasa insists. "I'm just super stoked to have bumped into you!" he laughs, like it's
the funniest thing in the world. "I don't suppose I could get a picture?"
"No, sorry."
"Don't worry about it!" Inasa pats him on the shoulder. "I'll be going now! Bye!" Then he walks
off, stiff and with perfectly measured steps. It's almost like watching a robot walk, and Izuku finds
himself wondering what kind of Quirk he has. But then he sees a flash of blue from the corner of
his eye and remembers.
He jogs to the entrance of the building, shows his pass to the guard, and lingers in the lobby. He
never sees Nejire, which makes him feel disappointed. But he is sort of late, so he doesn't have
much time to dwell on it. Instead, he singles one of the guards over, tells him he's here to see
Doctor Hanson, and follows them deeper into the building. The door is just as interesting as it was
last time, and Izuku walks into the room, forcing his nerves to calm. The door shuts behind him.
"Welcome back." Izuku jumps as the doctor makes her appearance, this time coming from the left,
meaning she either hid behind the couch over there for dramatic effect or phased through the wall.
"How was your week?" She walks over to her rocking chair and sits.
"It was good," Izuku says, taking a seat on a different couch than he picked last time. This one is
more firm, and he likes it better than the couch they have back at home. "I visited a friend I hadn't
seen in a while, I played with a few kids at a shelter, classes were fun, and I had a nice session with
Hound Dog earlier."
Doctor Hanson nods. "Those are all good things, but in our lives, we must also acknowledge the
bad. Did anything negative happen this week?"
"I had another dream," Izuku says.
"Like the one where you were the second holder?"
"Yes. But this time, I was the first—All for One's little brother." Izuku's hands start to tremble a
little. "Do you have any tea?" he asks, wanting the familiar comfort of a mug of warmth.
"Black or green?" Doctor Hanson asks, standing.
"Green, please. And if it's not too much to ask, I like it strong."
"So do I." Doctor Hanson walks over to her desk and flips over a paperweight. It immediately flips
back, and a part of the floor next to the desk opens up. A platform with two steaming kettles and
two cups rises out of the floor.
"That's fancy," Izuku comments.
"Only out of necessity." Doctor Hanson pours two cups. "They watch what I eat and drink closely
for poison. It's annoying, but it keeps me alive, and for that I am grateful."
"Have you ever been poisoned?" Izuku asks, accepting the cup when she hands it to him.
"Several times, all unsuccessfully." Doctor Hanson takes her seat again and sips her tea. Izuku does
the same, relaxing as the taste hits his tongue. "I told you that some people want to get information
out of me, but others want to make sure what I know stays unknown."
"That's…"
"Awful, but we're not here to talk about me. Did you take some time off this week?"
"Yes. I stayed home and knitted Tuesday and Wednesday."
"Did you cry?" the doctor asks. Then, when Izuku's slow to reply, she says, "There's no shame in
it. I even told you to grieve."
"I did cry," Izuku admits. "For hours on both days. It's why I barely got any knitting done."
"Did it make you feel better?"

"It did. After I stopped, I sat for a while, and then I got back to knitting. It was like a weight was
taken off my chest. I felt… relief."
"Do you think that you're still mourning the death of that boy?"
"Yes," Izuku says without hesitation. "But it's not as intense as it was after I finally let myself
relax."
The doctor nods. "Crying releases chemicals in the brain much like accomplishment does, but also
not quite. People tend to feel a sense of calm when they've finished crying, which is likely that
relief you described. Remember: the more you grieve, the sooner you'll feel better."
"I know," Izuku says. "We went over that last time."
"Good. Now, would you like to talk about the thing in the bunker or your dream?"
"The dream would be easier, but you wanted to do a diagnosis, right?" Doctor Hanson nods.
"I did. But there is significance to this dream, isn't there?"
"Yeah. I, um… it made me think that All for One was alive for a little while."
Doctor Hanson straightens in her seat. "Why's that?"
"The villain that killed that kid is called Shigaraki," Izuku informs. "All for One and the first
holder were also Shigarakis. It seemed so obvious at the time, but All Might assured me that he is
dead."
"How did you feel when you thought that All for One was alive?" the doctor asks.
"Horrified. I could barely think and I was frozen in fear." Izuku takes a deep breath. "If All for One
ripped out All Might organs when he was in his prime, what could he do to me? I couldn't focus on
anything else. It was awful."
"You had a panic attack," Doctor Hanson says bluntly. "And actually… do you feel the same way
when you think about the thing in the bunker?"
"Yeah," Izuku says. "But they're different, right? I had a panic attack for no reason, but that thing is
still out there—I know they didn't find it in the ruins of the bunker."
"Things don't happen for no reason," the doctor disagrees. "Well, some things do, but the human
body has evolved over millions of years. We have two eyes in the center of our heads to better
focus on prey and the details of the food we gather. Our arms are much smaller relative to other
primates so we can throw projectiles more accurately. Our sweat glands are some of the best in the
animal kingdom so that we can run for ages without stopping. You had that panic attack for a very
good reason."
"Then what is that reason?" Izuku asks. "Because I know I should've believed All Might when he
told me All for One is dead, no matter what came up."
"Blind trust is unhealthy and illogical. A sign on a run-down building says 'not a villain hideout.'
Do you trust it?"
"Well, it could be someone trying to be funny," Izuku points out. "Or maybe someone's making fun
of the state of the building with the sign."
"As a hero, do you trust that the sign is truthful?" Doctor Hanson reasks her question.
"No," Izuku answers. "I trust my training, and my training says that anywhere can be a villain
hideout and that the sign makes the building suspicious."
"So you don't take the sign at face value?"
"It would be kind of dumb of me to do so."
"So why would you believe All Might when he gave you nothing more than his word?"
"Because he's All Might."
"Yagi is a great man," the doctor says, "but infallible he is not."
"So you're saying All for One could be alive."
"Goodness no." Doctor Hanson coughs into her hand. "That man isn't alive. In fact, he's as far from
living as you can be. I've seen the ashes, Midoriya, and that was before they were tossed into the
ocean."
"They buried All for One at sea?"
"Yes, but that's not the point. The point is that it's normal to question things. It's smart and healthy,
too. You were doing what any normal human being would do: looking at the information available,
following them to their logical conclusion, and reacting accordingly. Your panic attack was
reasonable, though that's not to be confused with healthy. Stress like that can have severe effects on
the mind, especially if they continue for a long time."
"What do I do about it?"
"You're already doing some of the most commonly recommended treatments. Exercise, calming
activities, and avoiding the use of addictive substances. But unfortunately, there's no pill I can
prescribe that will make you stop being afraid of All for One and the thing in the bunker."
"So I just have to live with it, then." Izuku slumps into the back of the couch.
"I didn't say that. It was one incident triggered by something that would truly be awful if it were
true. Many people have one panic attack in their lives and never have another. You could be the
same."
"But I could also be different. You said that I would've had a breakdown if you let me keep
thinking about the boy who died and that thing," Izuku points out.
"That is true," the doctor agrees. "But have you felt like you were on the edge of a breakdown
recently? Aside from what happened after the dream."
"No," Izuku says, "I haven't. But I haven't had a lot of time to think about it, either. Other than
when I cry, it's not present in my mind."
"I take it that knitting has kept you distracted."
"That and everything else I do on a day-to-day basis."
"Do you feel okay like that?" the doctor asks.

"What do you mean?"
"Does shoving away those feelings make it easier to live your life? Not the sadness, obviously, but
when you keep yourself from confronting the fear and trauma from the bunker, are you happy?"
"Yes," Izuku says. "I smile more than I did before the raid, but I've dealt with them since then,
right? By seeing you and Hound Dog."
"You have, but that small amount seems to have gone a long way with you." The doctor retrieves
her pen and paper and jots down a few words. "I was worried that I'd have to give you a note
saying that you had a form of PTSD—though that would require more time, physiological
conditions like that are hard to pin down without months of continued symptoms—but I think that
you may be alright."
"I don't feel alright," Izuku says. "I woke up this morning scared that my dream was another one
from One for All. And—and I still feel that fear when I'm not distracted. That can't be good!"
"It's not. Tell me, were you ever punished as a child?"
"I… yes?" Izuku says, not following her line of thought.
"Give me an example, please."
"... When I was eight or nine, I…" Izuku cringes because it's not something he wants to think
about. "I stole a few yen from a tip jar at this American-style restaurant downtown. I didn't know
what it was, but I ended up spending the money on a toy or something. My mom found out, and I
had to give the toy and some of my money to the workers at the store. My mom wasn't mad—just
disappointed."
"That's a wonderful example," the doctor says. "How did it make you feel? If you can remember,
that is."
"Annoyed and a little angry," Izuku says, "but mostly sad because I disappointed my mom."
"Did you feel that way a few months later?"
"No. I think I felt better like two days after it happened."
"And would you consider that to be normal?"
"Well, obviously."
"Good, because it is normal. And I think that in a couple of years, you'll look back on what
happened in that bunker the same way."
"What?" Izuku says, the entire notion feeling wrong.
"You heard me. I lost my sister when I was young. I was sad for years and years—not depressed,
but I didn't feel ready to visit her grave and there wasn't a day where I didn't think of her—but after
some time, I felt better. I didn't go to any therapy. I just carried on when I wasn't actively grieving.
By the time I graduated high school, I was—well, 'over it' is a harsh way of saying what I mean,
but it's pretty close to it. We humans are resilient, and often the only thing we need to overcome
our troubles is time."
"So I don't need to talk to you anymore?"

Doctor Hanson laughs and says something in English that Izuku doesn't quite catch. "I'm sorry,"
she says, "I shouldn't have laughed. The answer is no, Midoriya. Everyone is different. I was able
to overcome the trauma of losing my sister without professional help, but you might not be able to
get over the bunker the same way. But from what you've told me—how it's less intense from right
after it happened, that you're happy with carrying on—I think it might be possible for you to be like
me. You should still come every week, though. Just to update me on how you feel. If it's not better
in a few months, then we'll do a rediagnosis and perhaps medicate."
"Okay." Izuku takes a sip of tea, realizing it's cooled down to room temperature. "Then are we
done here?"
"Just one more thing." Doctor Hanson holds up a torn sheet of paper. "This is a prescription for
Prazosin. It is a drug that is commonly used to treat PTSD victims who get night terrors. If you
start to have One for All dreams that impact your daily life and are mentally distressing, call me
and pay a visit to your local pharmacy. It may take some time to get a hold of some, but it should
help."
"Is it safe?" Izuku asks warily. "I've never heard of it before."
"Older variations of the drug sometimes didn't work or made things worse. Nowadays, that doesn't
happen—contrary to popular belief, medical science has made leaps and bounds since the first
Quirked person was born; decades of war and an unsteady political climate will do that. The worst
symptoms you'll get from this are slight nausea, dizziness in the mornings, or perhaps a headache. I
do not prescribe drugs to my patients without rigorous research."
"If you say so."
"It's this or using medical marijuana whenever you wake up feeling distressed." The doctor gives
the prescription a little wave. "And cannabis has been known to have long-term effects on brain
development. You are a hero-in-training and sixteen."
"My mom says I'm not allowed to drink until I'm married or twenty-five," Izuku says. "Marijuana
is definitely out of the question. I'll take the Prazosin if the dreams start to affect me."
"Good. Now, unfortunately, we're out of time." The doctor stands up and walks over to Izuku, who
also stands. She hands him the note with the prescription on it and walks him to the door.
"Thank you for helping me," Izuku says.
"You're welcome. I'm glad I could help you." The door opens and Izuku steps through. He takes
one last look at the doctor and sees a little bit of cheer in her usually neutral face. "If you ever start
to feel worse, tell me. Remember, your mental health takes priority over everything else."
"I will remember that," Izuku says, meaning it.
The doctor nods. "Then until next time, Midoriya."
Izuku walks out of the room and tucks the note in his pocket. Then he follows the man standing
guard down the hall and into the lobby. Once he reaches the front desk, he starts to scan the area
for Nejire. They'd agreed to meet in the waiting room, but their sessions are supposed to get over at
roughly the same time, so he might be able to find her here rather than in another area.
But he doesn't. Nervously (why is he nervous? He shouldn't be nervous, it's just Nejire—why does
that make it worse?), he walks over to the waiting room. It's similar to how it was last time, and
Izuku walks around. There's no sign of her familiar blue hair. With a sigh, he sits down at an empty
table and pulls out his phone. But like it was when he was on the train, he can't focus on it. His
mind always wanders back to waiting for Nejire, and his eyes scan the room for her.
A few minutes into his wait, Izuku feels a gentle tap on his shoulder. He looks to the left but sees
nothing. There's another tap, this time on his right. He looks over but sees nothing again. He hears
a giggle. Smiling, he tilts his head back and leans in his chair, looking upwards at the ceiling and a
familiar face.
"Hey, you," Nejire says, smiling. From Izuku's angle, she's upside down, and he can tell that she's
done something different with her hair.
"Hi," Izuku replies. He sits upright and slides out of his chair. He slips his phone into his pocket.
"I, um, how—how was your session?" He mentally kicks himself for how he fumbles with his
words, because Nejire looks good. She pulled her hair up into a low ponytail, which is sort of
weird, but it's the good kind of weird. A small gold necklace hangs from her neck that goes good
with the black of her shirt.
"It was okay," Nejire says. Her foot starts to tap, which makes Izuku look down, and he realizes
that Nejire looks good in jeans. "It's nice to talk to the doctor without my dad there, y'know?"
"Um, not really?" Izuku says, forcing his eyes back up.
Nejire laughs. "I thought so. How was yours?"
"Good. Doctor Hanson thinks I'll be better if I just keep myself busy. I'm not so sure about it,
though."
"Well, it kind of makes sense, right?" Nejire crosses her arms under her chest. "We're not meant to
be sad; we're meant to be happy. So if we just keep going, we'll feel better eventually. I think. It's
kind of weird to think about because it never seems that way when things are going wrong, you
know?"
"Yeah," Izuku says, "I do. And I trust Doctor Hanson; I'm just not entirely sure. I just don't think
it's something that I can let sit."
"Then talk to her about it," Nejire says. "That's what she's there for. Anyways, are you ready to go?
I kinda wanna see this one movie and it's either in a half-hour or three hours. So unless you feel
like hanging out with me until eleven, we need to go now."
"That wouldn't be so bad," Izuku says. "You're nice to be around."
Nejire smiles. "Thanks. But let's get going. I don't wanna wear jeans until eleven at night."
They walk out of the building, casually talking about school things and their days. Nejire
apparently got a response from Ryukyu's agency right before she went into therapy, which is
something she's really happy about.
"They want to have me on, Izuku. Like, they said in the message that they considered sending me
an offer after the Sports Festival but didn't because they don't take unlicensed students. But I start
Monday!"
"That's great!" Izuku says. "Do you know what you'll be doing?"
"There's orientation Sunday, and I'll have to sign a contract, but other than that, I'm not sure. Left
here." Nejire leads him away from the train station he used to get to the doctor's office but in the
direction of another one. "You looked at the movies available, right?"
"Yeah, but I didn't really have a preference." In the distance, Izuku can see a metro platform. Nejire
starts to pick up the pace. "You said there was one you wanted to see?"
"Yep, but if you don't want to, we can pick something else." Nejire looks over at him. "Are you
okay with nature documentaries?"
"They show those in theatres?" Izuku asks, surprised.
"The one we're going to does. They don't put it up on their website, but every Friday they do reruns
all day and premiere a new one in the evening. That's what we're going to see. What's your opinion
on big cats?"
"They're cool, I guess," Izuku says. "I was never really an animal kid. I was more focused on
heroes."
"Well, I've always really liked nature documentaries. I didn't get into hero stuff until after… when I
was older." Her smile dips a bit, but she quickly slips it back on. "Oh, I think I hear the train
coming. Hurry it up!"
When they reach the platform, the train has already stopped and the doors are open. They rush in
and take their seats. There's no one else in their compartment, though a few of the ones up front are
full. Some people change compartments, but Izuku and Nejire are left alone. The train quickly pulls
away.
"Do you wanna read the blurb about the documentary?" Nejire asks, typing rapidly on her phone.
"I know I don't like to go into things blindly."
"Sure," Izuku says, "it couldn't hurt."
"Okay. Here!" Nejire hands him her phone which is open to a synopsis about a film titled Great
Cats of India. "It's mostly about lions, but there's some bits about tigers and other stuff in there too,
apparently."
"I thought lions were African," Izuku says, scanning the text.
"Most are, but some parts of India have a similar climate to where African lions live." Nejire leans
over to read over Izuku's shoulder. He's momentarily distracted by the smell of her shampoo, but
he forces himself to focus on the information in front of him. "There were lions in Arabia too, a
long time ago. They're all gone now, though. A lot of animals didn't make it through the dawn of
Quirks, which is really sad."
"Yeah," Izuku says, handing the phone back over. "It looks really interesting. I'm sure I'll enjoy it."
Nejire beams. "Nice! What time do you have to be back home?"
"Eleven-thirtyish," Izuku says. "Mostly so my mom won't worry about me when she goes to sleep.
And, um, my trainers said I could skip the weights tomorrow."
"That's nice of them," Nejire says. "And it's sweet of you to avoid worrying your mother."
"Yeah," Izuku says, trying to forget the smile All Might had when he told him he could take a day
off and wanting to bleach the accompanying wink from his brain. "Er, why?"
"Why what?"
"Why do you want to know when I need to be back?"
"Oh! I was just curious, and, well. We could get something to eat after the movie, too." Nejire
scoots away from him a little. "But only if you want to."
"If I can eat after all the popcorn, I'd be okay with it," Izuku says. "And even if I can't, we can just
get a drink or something."
"Sounds good!" Nejire scoots back over, and their shoulders touch. "Say, do you wanna split a
popcorn or go separate?"
When they arrive at the theater (which is in a mall but has a separate entrance), Izuku is very, very
red in the face and Nejire is very, very confused. They buy their tickets and their snacks. And
because Izuku can't quite function, they do end up sharing a bowl. He can't understand why it
makes him feel so flustered. No, wait, that's a lie. It's all Gran's fault. But he can't quite figure out
why it has such an effect on him.
He doesn't have time to dwell on it, however, since Nejire takes him by the arm (which makes him
grin like an idiot for some reason) and leads him to their seats. They're right in the middle of the
room, which Nejire strategically picked so they could have the best view. Izuku's only been to the
movies a handful of times and he's never really noticed a difference in quality between the different
areas, but Nejire insists that the middle is the best. He doesn't mind so he follows along and settles
into the leather seat that feels like an expensive recliner.
"This is a nice theater," Izuku says, watching as Nejire hits a button on her armrest.
"Oh, yeah," Nejire agrees. The seat reclines back and the footrest swings out. "It's pretty new. I
think they remodeled it a few years back. When I was like eight, I remember this place being really
dirty and cheap-feeling. It's not anymore, obviously. Can you pass the popcorn?"
"Sure." Izuku hands the bucket over and Nejire pops a few pieces in her mouth. She starts to hand it
back but quickly changes her mind. She places it on the armrest between them and leaves it there.
"So we don't have to talk during," she explains. "And so one of us can't hog it the whole time."
Izuku opens his mouth to reply, but then the lights dim. The previews start to play, and he grabs a
handful of popcorn. Then he reclines his chair and focuses on the screen. A few minutes later, the
actual documentary starts to play. Out of the corner of his eye, he can see Nejire watching
carefully, almost perfectly still, which is something that almost never happens. From the way she
looks at the animals on screen, Izuku can tell that she's completely lost in the lives of the lions and
tigers. It's… nice is an understatement, but Izuku does like the way she looks. He just can't find the
right word.
About halfway through, Izuku pushes his footrest out. Almost immediately, Nejire moves closer,
and their legs touch. She tilts her head so it rests on his shoulder. Izuku freezes, not out of shock or
discomfort, but because he doesn't want to disturb her. He sits like that for the rest of the film.
When it ends, he feels a little disappointed. The lights come on and they stand, stretching stiff
muscles and gathering their trash. "Are you hungry?" Nejire asks. Her eyes shift between looking
into his and looking past his head. Izuku is not hungry.
"I could eat. Something small, though."

"Perfect! I know just the place."
They get ice cream. It's phenomenal, and Izuku manages to get two scoops down despite being
full. Nejire laughs at his choice of dessert, and Izuku tries to argue that vanilla is a valid flavor.
Nejire doesn't agree with him one bit, but he's fine with it. Happy about it, even. It's strange. He's
usually happy when he's doing something, but it usually has to be productive in some way. But
goofing off with her just feels right, and he smiles the whole walk back to the station, where they'll
have to part.
"This is me," Nejire says, stopping a good ways away from the station. "You have to go to the one
back by the doctor's office, right?"
"Yeah," Izuku says, glancing in that direction. He knows that he should say goodbye—he's kind of
cutting his curfew close; who knew that documentaries could be so long?—but he doesn't want to.
"I had fun tonight," he says instead.
"I did, too." Nejire shifts from foot to foot, unsure of something. "Would you like to do this again?
Not the movie, but… just you and me?"
"That'd be great. Do you have any ideas?"
"I'll text you."
"Sounds good."
They stand in silence for a while. Then, Nejire stands up on her tiptoes and purses her lips at the
same time Izuku steps forward, arms wide. She stills, but moves closer too. They hug, and Izuku's
nose is tickled with stands of blue and the scent of apples.
"Goodnight, Izuku."
"Goodnight, Nejire."
Chapter End Notes
I'm like Doctor Hanson when it comes to grief. I've lost a few people in my life, and
every time I did my small bit of crying and then jumped right back into normal life. I
still miss those people, obviously, but after a week of going through the motions
everything felt better again. It's also the same thing when it comes to negative things
for me. I keep going and it feels better eventually. It's not the same for everyone, and
there's nothing wrong with you if you need lots of time and help when it comes to
those things. I don't, and since I know that way best, I'll write about it at least a little.
Don't worry, I still have some things to pick through in Izuku's mind. The therapy is
not yet done.
Also, being busy sucks. Like, I feel fulfilled by my life, but sometimes I just want to sit
down and write. I should be less busy next week, but it's kinda iffy. My teachers like
loading me up with work without warning. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed. Cheers!
Progress
Chapter Notes
As of July 15, this chapter has been edited and reformatted by my beta, flauel.
"You went for the kiss on the first date? That's a bit much, dontcha think?"
"On the cheek. The cheek! What kind of idiot just kisses someone on the lips randomly? I find your
lack of faith in me disturbing!"
"That's still kinda forward. Would he have been comfortable with it?"
"His mother kisses him on the cheek. I've seen her do it. And we all hug daily. A kiss on the cheek
isn't much different from a hug. I mean, the French cheek-kiss their friends, right?"
"I think it's something different, but kinda? Anyways, what happens after that?"
"He, uh… we hugged and said goodnight. It was nice but still technically a failure on my part
because I didn't kiss him. I went home and screamed into my pillow for a while and felt much
better."
"So you spent all night working up the nerves to kiss him on the cheek only to get what Izuku
probably thinks of as a friend hug at the end?"
"Yup."
"That's rough, buddy."
"Tamaki, I love you and you're an amazing friend, but now is not the time."
"Oh, c'mon, it's like Sir says. There's always time for comedic relief."
"That's debatable."
"No, it's not."
"Yes, it is!"
"You can't argue with facts! Tamaki, back me up."
"I, uh—"
"Oh, cheap move. Of course he'd side with you."
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"I—you… you can't be serious. You can't.”
"But I am?"
"Can we get back on topic, please? Is Izuku doing better in therapy?"
"You could ask him when he's back tomorrow, but he's doing great. Er, well, he's doubtful of his
progress, but apparently his doctor thinks he's doing great. Which he probably is. If there's anyone
who can somehow Plus Ultra therapy, it's Izuku."
"That's good to hear. Do you think they'll let him out in the field again anytime soon?"
"That's a question for Aizawa. But I hope so. You can tell he's getting a little antsy just doing stuff
here at school, even if he tries to hide it."
"Maybe it's best if he takes some more time off. What happened at his work study was… I don't
know if I'd be able to keep going if the same happened to me."
"You'd make it through, Tamaki. I'd help you too, of course."
"I'm really the only one that sees it. Is everyone but me emotionally tone-deaf?"
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
"Liar, liar, buck naked sinking into the center of the earth. That's you, Mirio."
"Mmkay, sure. Anyways, you have another date soon, right?"
"They're not technically dates. But yeah, we're talking about going to dinner Wednesday or
Thursday. Our schedules don't line up Friday and he's busy over the weekend."
"Why isn't it a date? You like him; he probably likes you. I mean, two plus two equals four, right?"
"Yeah, but… what if he doesn't want to go on a date? What if he just wants to hang out as friends?"
"Doesn't he already think you're hanging out as friends?"
"I'm not a mind reader; how should I know? Maybe he thinks they're dates, maybe he doesn't. I'm
just worried that he doesn't want to."
"Want to date you or want to spend time with you?"
"Date me."
"I figured. You should just ask him."
"It's not that simple."
"Sure it is!"
"No, he's in therapy. For trauma. Even if it's going great, what if he doesn't want to deal with
romantic crap? What if it's not good for his mental health right now?"
"Being cared for and being supported are always good for your mental wellbeing. We already do
that for everyone. Why would it be different if your relationship was romantic instead of platonic?"
"Because romance is complicated."
"No, it isn't. People mutually love and respect each other and spend time together. Any drama or
complications doesn't have to go with that stuff."
"Alright, fine. But he's got a lot on his plate already, dontcha think?"
"If you really thought that, you wouldn't be hanging out with him later this week."
Nejire lets her shoulders slump. "I'm selfish," she says, "and a coward."
"Liar, liar, pants on fire," Mirio says, shutting the textbook in front of him. They've long since
given up on studying math. "You're Nejire. You're not selfish, and you're definitely not a coward."
"But I am," Nejire argues. "I hang out with him because I want to spend time with him when he's
already super busy and not mentally healthy. I should back off and wait until he's finished with
therapy, or at least until he's not going so often. And every time I think about being honest with
him about how I feel, I just clam up."
"Is he happy when you spend time with him?" Tamaki asks.
"Yeah," Nejire replies. "He laughs a lot and smiles a whole lot more."
"Then you're not being selfish."
"Yes, I a—"
"You're taking time out of your day to make him happier," Tamaki interrupts, which he's gotten a
lot better at doing recently. "That's the opposite of being selfish, right? And… it's okay to be
unsure sometimes. You'll work up the courage eventually."
"Maybe I can," Nejire admits. "But should I?"
"It'd be a weight off your chest," Mirio points out. "One less thing to think about, no matter what
the result is. Though to be fair, I don't think you'll have to worry too much about rejection."
"Yes, I do. There's always a chance that he'll say no. You can't just assume things."
Mirio smiles. "Who said anything about assuming? You said he liked spending time with you, you
two are very affectionate, and we know he's attracted to you. It's all mutual, too. So rejection is
improbable."
"Mutual attraction, happiness when spending time together, affection… hm." Nejire taps her cheek
with one finger. "You said that with all of those things, it's stupid to be afraid of rejection."
"Not stupid," Mirio explains, "but a little silly, yeah."
"So I should confess and not be worried about the outcome."
"Yep."
Nejire props her head up on her elbows and rests her chin on the backs of her hands. Slowly, she
looks back and forth between Mirio and Tamaki. She straightens her posture and spreads her arms
wide, her face making an expression that says Well?
"I have no idea what you're getting at with that," Mirio says. Nejire facepalms. And then bangs her
head on the table because she just can't with this.
"Mirio," she says, voice muffled by the wood, "I want you to take a good long look in the mirror
and play your words back. You're too smart to be missing this."
"That's different," Mirio says, suddenly defensive.
"How?" Nejire asks, sitting up. "Explain, because if there's a logical explanation for it, it's going
right over my head."
"We're not in the same position," Mirio argues.
Nejire shakes her head. "No. We totally are."
"On the off chance he rejects you, what happens?"
"It's awkward for a few weeks and then we're probably friends again." Nejire points right at the
blond boy in front of her. "Which is the same as you."
"Guys," Tamaki tries to butt in. Unlike usual, he's ignored.
"No, not one bit."
"Mirio—"
"Explain," Nejire demands. "In detail, preferably."
"I can't."
"Please stop."
"Why? What's stopping you? The silly fear of rejection?"
"It's not a silly fear!"
"But it is when it's me."
"Because we're different."
"That's a load of—"
"Mirio, I've been in love with you since elementary school."
Silence. Dead, empty silence. "I said—"
"I heard you," Mirio says, looking shocked beyond belief.
"This can't be happening," Nejire says under her breath. "There is no way.” She pinches her arm.
She's not dreaming.
"I feel the same way," Mirio says. "Er, I mean—no wait, that is what I mean! I—"
"I understand you," Tamaki says, shifting his chair over and brushing his shoulder against Mirio's.
"Then can we…"
"If you'd like."
They kiss, and Nejire pinches herself. She's still not dreaming, which puts a smile on her face
because finally. She's only known them for two years, but even that relatively small amount of time
was enough to make her want to lock them in a room until they confessed. She'll have to tell Izuku
about it—no, that's a thing for Mirio and Tamaki to do together. And talking to Izuku about
romance would be awkward. Really, really awkward.
Nejire smiles. Until the kiss drags on for too long and she loudly clears her throat. They separate
quickly, nearly falling out of their chairs. "Congrats," she says. "Tamaki, I'm happy you worked up
the courage to do that!"
"Me too," he says, looking down at his lap. From Nejire's angle, she can't see his mouth, but from
what she can see of his eyes, he's definitely smiling. He looks up. "It feels great."
"That's nice." Nejire stands up and organizes her things. "Do you two want me to clear out?"
"In a sec, sure," Mirio says, looking from her to Tamaki. "But one last thing."
"What is it?"
"It's easy," Tamaki says, looking her dead in the eye, and Nejire just knows that he's lying. But his
attempt at a smug face is ruined when Mirio leans over to kiss his cheek. His face turns bright pink,
and he barely gets his next words out. "J-just shoot your shot. It's not that complicated!"
Nejire promptly shoulders her backpack and walks out the door. Then, she slams her forehead into
a nearby wall. A sign labeled Study Room 222 rattles above her. "Why are boys such idiots?" she
asks. The wall does not answer.
[x]
"Damn!"
He's late for school. And not late like he can rock up a minute before the first bell. He's late like
school's already started and there's no way in hell he'll make it to first period. For a moment, he
lays in bed and stares at his ceiling. The term is almost over (no, it isn't. Right?) and no one would
miss him anyways. But then he rolls his head to the side and sees a poster advertising U.A High.
The Finest School for Academics and Heroics in the East. Brainiacs Welcome, it says. And, well,
he's not exactly a brainiac, but his dream school wants him to be. So he throws off his covers and
rushes through his morning routine.
Breakfast? No, he's intermittent fasting today—not that he needs to; the kids at school all call him
a twig for a good reason (no! He has muscles. Oh. It's one of these again). Dental hygiene? He
downs a mouthful of mouthwash and calls it good. It's gross, but his breath doesn't kill animals, so
he'll take it. He skips his shower and puts on his uniform in twenty seconds flat. He doesn't bother
with the tie and hops out the door trying to put his shoes on. Then, because there's no good train
that'll get him close to school in a timely manner, he runs.
In his worn-out Doc Martens—size fifteen and vintage from the 2050's—his feet scream at him to
stop. But he can't. He won't let himself. Running is a great way to maintain physical health and a
key part of overall athleticism, and he's late. The soreness of his feet can be ignored for now.
Especially when an explosion rocks the street over from him causing passersby to scream and a
few to dial 119. He should, by all reason, pick up the pace and run like the wind all the way to
school. But before he can even think, he's running into the danger, shoving through crowds of
people and looking for those in need.
Smoke pours out of a bank, and masked men pile into a pickup truck before the driver floors the
gas and accelerates down the empty streets. He can see heroes already rushing to catch the truck,
but none checking out the damaged building. There could be people in there —hurt people. Again,
he moves without thinking, crossing the street as he pulls the collar of his shirt over his mouth and
nose. He raises his backpack over his head to protect it from falling debris. Then, he enters.
Smoke stings his eyes and the stench of charred wood attacks his nose. To his left, something
shifts, and he pulls his backpack tighter against the top of his head, which causes his yellow bangs
to dangle in the middle of his vision.
"Is anyone in here?" he calls. "I'm here to help!"
"O-over here!" he hears a voice shout. Whoever it is sounds distressed and in pain. There's a loud
cough. "S-s-something's on my legs! I can't feel them!"
"I'm coming! Hold on for just one more second!"
He hurries through the bank, occasionally calling out to the person to make sure he's heading in the
right direction. He finds them moments later right outside the main vault. A heavy, decorative
chandelier crushes their legs, and they desperately try to pull themselves up. He drops his
backpack and grabs hold near where their legs are, grateful that all the smoke hides how bad their
injuries must be.
"On three, I'm going to lift! When I do, pull with all your might. Ready?"
"Y-yeah!"
"Okay. One… two…" He flexes his core and legs, making sure to keep his back straight. It's just
like a deadlift. "Three!" He pushes on the floor with everything he has, forcing the chandelier
upwards. The metal bites into his hands, and his legs shake with the strain. He risks a glance
backwards. They're only halfway out from under it. Shit. He feels his legs start to give out. "No!"
Suddenly, like a burst of extra fuel, he finds the strength to lift it up even more. He stands to his
full height and breathes in the smoky air.
"I'm out!" The chandelier slams down and he goes with it, hitting the ground with his tailbone. He
coughs a few times. "Hurry! I think the fire's spreading!" He's back up instantly, scampering over
to them and trying to figure out the best way to get them to the door. The ground is covered in glass
and stone, so he can't drag them. He'll have to carry them out.
"Lay on your stomach." They obey his order, and he bends down to grab them by the armpits. He
pulls them up, ignoring the pain in his legs and the heat at his back. Soon, their toes are barely
touching the ground. He bends over and pulls them so they're on his shoulders. Finally, he loops
his arms around their arms and legs and locks his hands together, completing the fireman's carry.
Watching all of those old wrestling videos really paid off.
He starts to walk through the building again, going slower than before—too slow for his liking. He
tries to pick up the pace, but his foot lands on an uneven part of the floor, and he goes down. His
knee hits first, taking the weight of his and their body. He hears something crack, and he drops his
cargo, crying out in pain. The roar of the fire draws closer, and the injured person tries to crawl
over him to safety. But it's useless. They're both too slow. He's going to die. He's going to die in the
lobby of a bombed-out bank because he couldn't walk right. He starts to cry because he doesn't
want to die. Not in a world like this, where people have to hurry down the street, looking in every
direction and holding their loved ones close not out of comfort but out of fear. He has goals.
Dreams. Plans. He can't die yet! But the world is cruel, and the fire licks his Doc Martens.
And then he must die, because there's an angel. A dark-haired, grey-eyed angel with a beauty mark
on her chin. She pulls him away, and suddenly everything is cold. "I've got another one," she says,
holding him in her arms. "Not as bad as the first. No bleeding, but that knee doesn't look right."
Then, the angel smiles down at him, and he thinks, for the first time in his life, that everything is
okay. "Trying to play hero, huh, kiddo? I suppose I should be mad, but you saved their life. Next
time, though, leave it to the pros."
"Couldn't… stop… moving," he coughs out. It makes the woman's smile change from motherly
and fond to knowing and resigned.
"Yeah, I know that feeling. I really do."
He's taken to the hospital after that. They treat his burns, take some x-rays of his knee, and send
him home with a cast and an order to stay off of it. Naturally, the first thing he does when he gets
back is sneak out.
There's a nature trail one stop from his house that almost nobody goes on. It's his favorite spot,
particularly when he can sit on one of the benches and watch the clouds roll by. It's a pain to get
there with his cast and crutches, but he makes it. But when he gets there, he finds that the bench is
occupied by a stray dog. With a sigh, he finds a different spot. Two stumps sit across from one
another in a small clearing. They become his table and chair, and he allows himself to relax and
think about what happened earlier.
"I failed," he says to no one in particular, though his eyes linger on the stump across from him.
"How am I going to be the world's pillar if I can't save one person?" The stump does not reply.
"Nobody looks up to failures," he continues. "People won't look up to a failure to hold up the
world. And now I've gotta waste a few months healing my knee, so I can't even train." The stump
looks at him like he's an idiot. Why do you need to do that? it asks. Why does the world need a
support pillar?
"Because no one can smile," he says, fully aware that he's an idealistic lunatic ranting to a
decapitated tree in the middle of the evening. "What's life worth living if you can't even smile? I
want to make people feel safe, to stop villains before they commit their crimes. To do that, I need
to be a deterrent, a symbol. Ever present in the minds of the public. And I can't do that with a bum
knee and two months of missed training."
"That's quite the conundrum, isn't it, kid." He tries to turn around to look behind him, but his cast
makes it hard to do so. The unknown speaker has to walk around to face him instead.
"Who are you," he asks, clutching his crutches right. "These aren't just for getting around, you
know!"
The woman laughs which makes a set of matching dimples appear on her cheeks. "I'm sure they're
not. But you don't have anything to worry about."
"I doubt that." A plastic card is thrown at him. It lands in his lap.
"What about now?"
"You're a hero?" She nods.
"Seven years of active duty," she says proudly. "I'm not going to hurt you."
"Alright," he says. "But why are you here? I'm not breaking the law or anything, and I can get
home fine on my own."
"Yeah," she agrees. "But I'm more interested in what you had to say to that piece of wood." She
gestures to the stump. "Something about making people safe and being a symbol?"
"Our streets aren't ours," he says carefully. He's unused to being taken seriously on this particular
topic. "Villains run rampant, and no matter how hard the heroes and police crack down on them,
they don't stop. They just keep hurting more and more people, and making them feel more and
more afraid, because the villains know that there's a good chance that they won't be caught."
"Then how do you fix this?" the hero asks.
"By being such an amazing hero that villains will know that it's futile to commit crimes. If one
person were to be so strong and powerful and confident, then they could hold up the whole of
society. All they'd have to do is stop enough crime for people to realize that they can stop all the
crime, and then the crime will go away on its own. People will feel safer, and they'll smile again."
"And I take it you want to be that symbol?"
"Yes. More than anything."
"What's your name, kid?"
"Yagi Toshinori."
"I think you've got a great idea, Yagi, but I don't think you'll make it on your own. Luckily for you,
I've got plenty of help to spare."
"You… actually believe in my idea?"
"I believe that it can work in theory. It's just up to you to put it into practice. Meet me here at seven
AM Saturday and we'll have another chat."
"Alright, but… what's your name?"
"It says right there on the card. My hero name is Rhea, but since we'll be working together for a
while, you can call me Nana."
Izuku wakes up feeling like he's late for school. Naturally, he jumps out of bed and snatches his
uniform pants. But then he sees his alarm clock and feels his head start to ache. It says that it's
eight in the morning, but Izuku swears that it feels like eight at night. He walks over to his window
and pulls open the curtains. He's blinded by the morning sun and stumbles back in shock. He lands
on his butt and tries to stand. But then his knee explodes in pain, and he falls back down.
He tries to get back up, but he can't find his balance. His limbs just feel too short. The back of his
mind is telling him that he should have an extra quarter meter of length in his arms, but there just
isn't. Eventually, he manages to stand up and he makes his way to the bathroom. He looks in the
mirror, and a sense of vertigo overtakes his mind. The mirror shows a slightly tall, slightly broad
boy with green hair, green eyes, and freckles. But it feels wrong. He should be a very tall, very
skinny boy with blue eyes and blond hair.
Izuku reaches down and flicks on the faucet. He lets some cold water drizzle over his hands and
then he splashes it over his face. The vertigo disappears, and the reflection feels right. He takes a
deep breath and gets on with his morning. Lifting goes quickly, as does breakfast and his morning
shower. Then he does some quick schoolwork before pulling out his knitting bag and turning the
radio on.
He finished his first coaster a few days ago. It came out lumpy and uneven, but he placed it on his
nightstand anyway. His mom wanted to frame it and put it on the wall, but Izuku declined. Maybe
if it were better, or if he didn't plan on using it, he would've agreed. But the last thing he wants
people to see when they walk into the apartment is a shoddy seafoam green coaster.
His second project is something more useful, but also more time consuming: A scarf. It can
technically be as long as he wants, but he doesn't think he'll make it over a meter or so. When he
first started on it, he planned on using it for himself. Then he thought he might give it to his
mother. Then to Aizawa or All Might. But as his needles weave the green thread, he can't help but
think that Nejire would love it. The color would go well with her hair—Izuku thinks so, at least—
and the thought of giving her something he made to wear makes him feel warm inside. So he keeps
knitting.
When it's time for lunch, he sets his project down and picks up his phone. He scrolls through
Twitter while he makes his meal, answering a few questions and liking posts. Nedzu had said that
he should only interact with other heroes and only reply to fans on occasion. It has to do with
keeping him special, but Izuku disagrees. He knows he would've been thrilled if he ever got a reply
from a hero he liked, and he wants to make sure other people can experience it. And if his phone
blows up every few hours because of it, it's a small price to pay.
Once he finishes lunch, it's back to knitting. He changes the radio station, too. It tends to repeat
after a while, and a lot of it is just too intense for his current mood. A slow jazz tune comes out of
the speakers after a few turns of the dial, and Izuku settles back down to knit, this time with warm
tea and sun coming through the kitchen window. By the time he has to get ready for therapy, Izuku
has a few more rows done and a particular melody from a song stuck in his head. He puts his
needles and yarn away and changes into a fresh pair of sweats and a hoodie. He heads out of the
house, humming the same tune the whole train ride.
When he gets to U.A, it's about four o'clock. He walks through the gates and says hi to a few
familiar faces. When he gets near the office building, he sees a few people walking out of a nearby
structure. One labeled 'Detention.' The people are very familiar, and Izuku waves, curious as to
why they were in detention.
"Izuku!" Mirio calls back, flailing his arms overhead. Next to him, Tamaki reaches for his hood
that isn't there. Behind both of them, Midnight taps her foot impatiently. "How's it going?"
"Fine!" Izuku says. "What'd you get in trouble for?" Mirio only laughs and Tamaki looks down at
his feet. Midnight smirks.
"They were a little too close in one of the private study rooms," Midnight explains. "We're cool
with PDA here, but French kissing is taking it too far."
Izuku blinks and looks at the two embarrassed boys. "Really?" he asks.
"Oh yeah, you should've seen it—"
"No, he shouldn't have!" Mirio interrupts, his smile a little bit forced. "We learned our lesson, right,
ma'am? It won't happen again."
"I believe you," Midnight says in a way that Izuku can tell that she doesn't. "But I'm sure Hado will
tell him anyways, right?"
"I'd rather not be here for that," Tamaki mumbles. Mirio wraps his arm around his shoulders and
holds him tight.
"We're a thing now!"
"That's great!" Izuku says. "I'm really happy for you two!"
"Hey, thanks!"
"Let's get a move on now," Midnight urges. "Midoriya has things to do, and you two should be off
campus by now."
"Bye!" Mirio waves. Tamaki joins in, still pink in the face but smiling.
"See you later!"
Izuku walks through the office building slightly faster than usual. He smiles the whole way up to
Hound Dog's office and taps his foot to the beat of the elevator music. When he finally knocks on
the door, he only has to wait a few seconds before he's let in. Izuku turns the knob and steps
through, still smiling.
"Good afternoon, sir," he greets, taking a seat on the couch.
"Good afternoon, Midoriya," Hound Dog says. He tosses a crumpled-up piece of paper into the
wastebasket and takes a swig from his coffee thermos. "Did you have a good day today?"
"Yeah. Waking up was a bit rough, but after that everything was great. I got some knitting done,
and my weight training is progressing well." Izuku relaxes on the couch and watches as Hound
Dog nods.
"Good to hear. Did you think of anything negative while you were knitting or lifting weights?"
"No," Izuku says, stunned at the realization. "I… I mean, I didn't feel good right after I woke up,
but after that I just… relaxed."
"That's great to hear," Hound Dog says. "Why were you distressed when you woke up?"
"I had another one of those dreams. And I'm not comfortable talking about them," Izuku adds.
Hound Dog shrugs. "Fair enough. But you had your first day free of grief or fear in weeks. How
does that make you feel?"
"Amazing," Izuku says. "It feels great to feel this good, and to realize that this stuff has paid off."
"It's all because of you, kid." Hound Dog points a finger at him. "People can't change if they don't
want to change. Well, they can, but it often takes years. But to go from a crying, emotionally
constipated mess to what you are now? That takes dedication and effort."
"You're right," Izuku agrees. "I just… I don't know, it's so weird. Weird but good. I like it."
"I'm glad to hear it. But if you think you're done seeing me, you're thinking wrong."
"Oh," Izuku says, feeling slightly disappointed. "Why's that?"
"Take off your shoes, please."
"Sir?"
"Humor me for a sec, would ya? Have I ever steered you wrong before?"
"No," Izuku says, reaching down and untying the laces. "But that doesn't necessarily mean you'd
keep doing that."
"True, but I really do think that this will help. Socks too, please."
Izuku furrows his brow and looks Hound Dog in the eye. He sees nothing but reassurance and
desire to help. He takes his socks off and lets his bare feet rest on the fuzzy carpet.
"I want you to look down for a few moments and then tell me how you feel," Hound Dog says.
"Whenever you're ready."
"Okay." Izuku looks downward at his lap, but out of the corner of his eye, he sees his feet. His
attention shifts there, and to his missing toe. The tissue on the end of it is off-colored and rough
from rubbing against the implant in his shoe. It throws off the symmetry of his feet, and the pain
and the memories associated with it make his stomach churn.
"You may look up now." Izuku does so as fast as he can. He even tucks the foot with the missing
toe behind his good foot and clenches the cloth of his pants. "How did that make you feel?"
"Disgusted," Izuku says. "Worthless, weak, broken, and… kind of sick."
Hound Dog writes something down in his notes. "That's normal among amputees, you know. And
being unhappy with your body is a common thing with—well, I'd say teenagers but adults, too.
Even kids. It's okay to not be comfortable with your body, but it's unhealthy to be obsessed with it.
How often do you think of your missing toe?"
Izuku shrugs. "A few times a day, maybe. When I shower, I have to wash it, and sometimes the
implant in my shoe doesn't sit right, so I have to move it around. When that happens, it doesn't
leave my mind for a while."
"So obsession doesn't appear to be a problem," Hound Dog says. "That's good. Do you want to feel
that way?"
"No," Izuku replies. "Who would?"
"Nobody who's mentally healthy. Have you looked into prosthetics?"
"Yeah, but they wouldn't do much for me," Izuku says. "I get the same thing from the implant, and
I don't have to put it on in the morning."
"What do you mean by 'it wouldn't do much'?" Hound Dog asks.
"Well, it'd just be an aesthetic thing, right?" Izuku wiggles his good toes. "It's not like I'm missing
a whole foot or an arm. I don't need something to replace my toe. Well, I do, but I don't need
anything big or fancy."
"But you're not comfortable with looking at it."
"Yeah, but that's something I can deal with."
"Do you want to?"
"No, but I can."
"When you eat bad food at a restaurant, do you go back and order the same thing?"
"No," Izuku says, used to seemingly random changes in subject by now. "I don't go there again,
and I eat something I know is good."
"Alright, that makes sense. So why do you keep looking at a part of you that makes you feel bad
when you don't have to?" Izuku doesn't have an answer. "People don't do things they dislike
without reason. There's no good reason for why you should have to look at your toe day in and day
out. So don't."
"I thought ignoring problems was bad?"
"It is, but that's for things like grief, or homework, or an argument with your mother. That's stuff
that will only get worse with time if you don't address it. You've lost your toe—there's no way that
it will get better or worse, right?"
"I could lose the rest of my toe."
"I'm talking about if you just ignored it and let it sit. Would it suddenly grow back or fall off?"
"No."
"Then ignoring it is okay. Look into some of those hyper-realistic prosthetics. Pick one out, wear it,
and don't look at your missing toe unless you have to. It may seem weird, but you can't feel bad
about it if you can't see it, right?"
"I could," Izuku says, "but I see your point. I'll talk to my mom about it."
"Good. I hope it works out for you. Now, before I let you go, I have one last thing."
"What is it?" Izuku asks, slipping his socks back on.
"I think you're ready for fieldwork again."
Izuku's head snaps to attention, and he feels a bright smile form on his lips.
"Easy there, kid," Hound Dog says, laughing a little. "It's going to be limited, and you'll have to
report back to me after each outing."
"That's fine," Izuku agrees.
"Good. Because there's still some things we'll need to talk about." Hound Dog stands and rips a
sheet of paper from a notebook. He walks over to Izuku and hands the paper over. "These are your
stipulations for patrols. On the back are the agencies you're allowed to work for."
"I don't have to go with a teacher?"
"The agency has to be licensed to take interns and has to have a good track record with work
studies. But yes," Hound Dog agrees, "you won't have to drag poor Eraser out every night."
"That's fine," Izuku says, scanning over the list of hero agencies. "Is that all?"
"For today, yeah." Hound Dog leads him over to the door and opens it. "Have a great night, kid.
And keep up the good work. I'll see you tomorrow."
As Izuku makes his way home, he finds himself feeling as light as a feather. Everything is looking
up; everything is returning to normal. Everything feels right. He really hopes it stays that way.
Chapter End Notes
I had fun writing this one. I have fun writing in general, but stuff like this, where
characters feel great because of stuff that's been built uppon for tens of chapters, it's a
different form of fulfillment. I also love writing chaos, angst, and throwing people for
a loop, so don't expect things to stay perfect for long.
I think there's five or so chapters until the next arc, and all of them will have the good
feels. After that it's open season for chaos and the bad feels. No spoilers, but after that
arc, it'll be time for 1-A to be featured. I'm about as excited as you guys are lol.
Cheers!
Their Legacy
Chapter Notes
As of July 15, 2021, this chapter has been edited and reformated by my beta, flauel.
He knows he's about to die, and he isn't the least bit surprised. His bones creak and his joints pop
every time he walks, and his muscles aren't what they used to be. His posture is stiff and slouched,
and he's blind in one eye now. But that's acceptable. His legacy will live on, and he will die an
honorable death. But first, he must wake the boy.
"Hikage, it's morning!" He slams his fist on the wall of his room, and he can hear his apprentice
fall out of his bed like a doofus. Typical.
"I'm awake, old man!" the boy screams back. But he's clearly not awake, and his speech comes out
all slurred and lopsided.
"I'll be the judge of that," he mutters, hobbling through the house and slamming open the door.
Hikage is trying to put his pants on backwards with his socks between his teeth. His hair is ruffled,
and his eye bags make him look like a deranged raccoon. "Get a move on before I put my boot up
your ass."
Hikage rolls his eyes but doesn't reply as he walks down the hall and into the kitchen. The smell of
last night's dinner lingers, and the pots and pans in the sink have yet to be washed. He supposes
they never will, if his instincts are correct. And with his luck, there's no way they aren't.
"What's for breakfast?" Hikage asks, opening the empty fridge.
"Training," he grunts. "Lots and lots of training."
"We had training for lunch yesterday," Hikage says. "Can't we wait a bit longer? My rear is still
sore from our spar."
"Then be happy I didn't shove my boot up there. Now move it, boy!"
Hikage obeys, jogging out the door and preparing to stretch. He joins him, doing a much easier
variant of the boy's routine. Hikage has always been more lean and spry than him, mostly because
the boy is built like a runner and he's built like a brick house, but in the eleventh hour of his life, he
can't help but be a little bitter about it. He shouldn't be feeling this way at age fifty. No one should
be. But that lady in the cabin forced it on him, and dammit if he won't make sure that her dying
wish is met.
"That's enough! Pick up your sticks and prepare to fight!" Hikage stops his warmup and runs back
into the house. He comes back out a few seconds later holding a pair of wooden sticks meant for
some old-fashioned martial art. The boy stops in front of his teacher and looks around warily. Ah,
he thinks. He's picked up on it. The bastard draws near.
"Sir," Hikage says, looking in the direction of the rising sun. "Someone dangerous is coming from
the east."
"Ignore it. Your power is too inaccurate when the danger's too far away. For all you know, it could
be some idiot walking here all the way from Tokyo."
"But sir—"
"Shut up and fight me, boy! Or do you not want to be stronger?"
The boy closes his mouth and raises his sticks. "I'm ready, sir."
"Good," he replies. Then, he shrugs off his cloak, straightens his aching back, and fires up One for
All. Hikage makes the first move, dashing forward and swinging low at his knees. The cheeky shit
knows his joints are shot. He decks his apprentice across the face at full force for thinking he can
get a hit in on a weak point that is obviously defended. Hikage shrugs off the hit and jumps
forward again, this time feinting high before lunging off to the side. He can hear him pulling his
arm back to go for a strike across the head, so he drops to the grass below and lets him overextend.
Then, he rolls backwards and tries to kick Hikage in the chest. Tries is the key word since the kid
manages to twist out of the way and hits the ground rolling.
Satisfied with the first exchange, he powers up his original Quirk, one that was all but useless for
anything other than lighting cigarettes and being a flashlight. A wave of ruby red energy hits the
dirt, Hikage jumping upward to avoid it. The boy presses the attack again, ducking under a hook
and driving a shoulder into his chest. But it's a stupid move. He grabs his apprentice, spins around,
and slams him into the ground. They wrestle, weapons and Quirks forgotten in the power struggle.
Hikage is weaker than him physically, but the kid is fast. He breaks free of his grip and goes for
his sticks. In doing so, he turns his back on his opponent. His idiot student gets a shot to the back
for that blunder.
"You've lost. Get up and we'll go again."
"Can we have a break first?" the kid asks, rolling over to his back and instantly regretting it. "You
went harder than usual on that last one."
"That's because you were an idiot," he explains. "Were you even using your Quirk?"
The kid looks away from him. "No. It's hard to use in a fight like that. Everything just moves so
quickly. And it's not like it's telling me the future. At best, I know from what direction something's
coming from. I thought I had enough time to dodge that last one, but…"
"We're going again. You need more experience with reading fights or you're a dead man."
"But Sir, I still feel—"
"We're going for another round. End of story."
"But there's a threat to our safety!"
"I can deal with it."
"I don't think you can! It feels way too—"
"Damnit, son! I told you to shut up and that I'll deal with it! That should be enough for you!"
Hikage stills, and he follows suit. They avoid eye contact for a while until the boy stands back up
and grabs his sticks. They spar wordlessly until dusk.
When dinner comes, they eat scraps. Two cheap cuts of steak and a potato apiece are barely
enough to sustain a growing teen and an old man, but they eat without complaint. Then they sit on
the front porch, watching the moon rise. Deep within his bones, he can feel it. Whether it's One for
All's connection to its brother Quirk or basic human instinct, he knows his killer is out there in the
surrounding woods. It's time.
"I think you're ready."
Hikage nearly jumps out of his chair in surprise. "For… for it?”
He nods. "Go get my knife." The boy rushes off, and he stands. Keeping a cautious eye on the
woods around the house, he walks down the front steps and into their yard. The moon and sun
share the sky, and only the brightest of stars can be seen. It's a fine sight, and he supposes he'll be
happy dying here.
"Sir!" his apprentice calls.
"Out here, boy."
Hikage jumps down the steps and runs up to him eagerly. In the dim light, the blade of his knife
gleams in the boy's hands, and the boy himself almost looks like a man. Almost.
"This is a serious matter," he says, taking the knife.
"I know," the boy says.
"Do you?" he asks. "Because you will die if you take this power."
"Can it help put an end to the man who killed my sister?" the boy asks.
"Yes," he admits. "But you are going to die. I am going to die. It is likely that your apprentice will
die as well, all of us by his hand. But one day, when our legacy is strong enough, All for One will
die."
"Then I'll accept it," Hikage declares. "I'll sacrifice myself for the hope of a future without him."
He takes one last look at his appearance, burning the image of his determined smile into his mind.
"Very well. Give me your hand." The boy holds his arm out straight, palm up. Carefully, he takes
the knife and cuts across the palm. Then he takes the knife to his own hand and takes the boy's.
"Our DNA has to swap for the transfer to work. I do not know if All for One can take it, but I find
it unlikely that he could without permission." He holds the boy's hand for a long while, letting their
blood mix.
"Is it mine now?"
"Maybe. It takes some time to set it. You'll know when you've got it—your Quirk will go haywire."
"You'll be there to help, though, right?" Hikage asks.
"Yes," he lies. "I will always be with you. Until the day I fall, I will teach you everything I know.
But when I'm gone, you have to do the same. Nurture this power. It is already strong—too strong
for my broken body—but it's not strong enough. Pick your successor wisely, and never give up
without a fight."
The boy seems to detect a shift in his tone. He's always been good with things like that, much better
than him. "Sir? You can't—"
"What is this? Some occult ritual? I was hoping the remnants of my little brother would be in the
hands of some more intelligent people."
"Hikage, run."
"Sir?"
"Do it!" he screams, lashing out with a full-force attack at the tree line. The boy scampers towards
the house, and All for One walks out of the burning forest. "Away from here! To safety!" he
orders.
"There is no safety from me," All for One chuckles. "On the off chance he gets away, I'll hunt him
to the ends of the earth."
"Sir, we can do this together! We both have the power!" Hikage runs back towards him, sticks in
hand.
"No! Go! Only I get to die tonight."
"But Sir—!"
He cuts him off in the worst way possible. A beam of burning red energy whips across his face,
dangerously close to his eye. Hikage stumbles back, screaming and cupping his face. "Listen to
me, boy! Run like hell!"
Hikage looks at him with a mixture of fear and pain. Blood drips down one half of his face and
tears trail down the other. He sprints to the woods, sobbing and holding his head. Good. Better
alive and hurt than dead and gone. He turns to face his killer.
"Well?" All for One holds up his arms. "What's your plan?"
"Stall," he says. "Stall and make sure you can't get to my boy."
All for One snorts. "Charming. Well, good luck stalling!" Then he kicks the ground, and a wave of
earth rises. He jumps to one side and blasts the bastard with a shot of light. It's blocked with a wall
of solid air, and he uses that moment of distraction to close the distance. Every one of his close-
quarters strikes is blocked or shaken off with little effect, and All for One begins to take pleasure in
the battle.
"What a fascinating Quirk you have!" he praises. "I did some digging—I'm surprised you're still
alive, what with draining your literal life force every time you attack."
"I'm surprised you're still alive," he bites back, kicking the taller man in the knees for good
measure. "Surely someone would've slit your throat in your sleep by now."
"Oh-ho! You're a sassy one!" All for One blows him back with a wave of compressed water and
pushes him off balance. Faster than he can blink, he's pinned on the floor by his throat. "Any last
words?" All for One asks, casually looking over his nails.
"Yeah," he says, reaching deep within himself for one final move. He's always wondered what it'd
be like to let it all rip, and with the added strength of One for All, it's sure to be something
extraordinary. "Smile, you son of a bitch!"
He lets everything go, and enough force to collapse an office building roars through the clearing,
leveling the house, kicking up dirt, and tearing him to pieces. All for One screams in agony, taking
the brunt of it. And somewhere in the forest, the Fourth runs and hides.
"I am here! I am here! I—" He slams his fist on the top of his alarm clock. With a crack, it shatters,
sending bits of plastic and wires flying around his room. Startled, he opens his eyes. He's glowing a
bright green, electricity dancing on his skin, his body thrumming with energy. Residual pain
makes him flinch and cup the left half of his face, and the memory of burning up in pure energy
lingers in his head. But when he tries to deactivate his Quirk, he finds that he can't. The power
thrums inside of him, swirling in a dance of sorrow and rage. He tries to soothe the energy, but it's
impossible.
"It's fine," he says, wiggling mid-air in hope of grabbing onto the ceiling or the roof. He really
hopes that Blackwhip won't manifest—the Quirk is so volatile that he doesn't think he can get a
handle on it. "We're safe! It's just a memory!" One for All doesn't calm completely, but it stills for
just a moment. It's enough for him to direct them towards the bedroom window, open it, and make
for the roof.
The cold early morning air is a shock to the system, making him shiver and wish he slept in pants.
But One for All pays it no mind and goes right back to venting its anger. All he can do is hold on
and make sure nothing is broken from the power, which is already stirring up gusts of wind and
warming the air on his skin.
Judging by how few lights are on in the apartment complex, most people are home sleeping. It's
probably better that way, just so no one will see him trying to wrangle in his Quirk. But it's also
worse since a slip-up could mean mass amounts of property damage, especially if he lets off a blast
like he did before…
That wasn't him, right? He didn't blow himself to bits right in All for One's face. That was Three.
He's Nine! Or is he Eight? Maybe Four? Definitely not One or Two—he's a man and has never
been married. He tries to piece together who he is, and in doing so, he doesn't notice how he starts
to rise higher and higher in the sky.
"We all have different names, right?" he asks himself. "We were all different. Are all different.
Maybe…" He's level with the clouds when he realizes that he can't remember his own name. And
then he starts to fall.
He and One for All realize it at the same time. They both hit the brakes, and his body lurches to a
stop mid-air with enough change in momentum to force the air from his lungs. The green lighting
fizzles out, and the power output dims to just enough to keep his skin warm. He looks down, not
phased by the dizzying highs, but still worried nonetheless.
"Where's my apartment?"
He finds it, dragging the still mad but more resigned Quirk with him. Floating through his window,
he sits back down on his bed. He looks around and sees Eight staring at him from all angles. Eight
isn't vain or egotistical; he knows that for sure. That's one less person he could be. There's only—
he does a quick headcount—five more he could be. Three, Four, Five, Six, and Nine.
He checks over his room. It feels familiar—comfortable even—but not quite right. He knows that
he isn't in the right mind for it to be his, but it belongs to one of the users and not one of them
would be mad if he went through everything.
Logically, he knows that the stuff is his, but it still feels like he's snooping when he starts to pull
out drawers and look at photographs, which frustratingly tell him nothing. Is he face-blind? No, he
knows that his friends are the ones in most of the images, with Eight and his mother in several
others. But he can't focus on his face. With a sigh, he sets the picture frames down and looks over
the shelves.
There are a lot of notebooks. Tons of them, all neatly arranged and color-coded. He's probably not
Five then, or Three. They weren't big on the details of things and focused on their bodies and
powers over their minds. More power to them for that, but whoever he is clearly has a mind for the
small things.
He plucks the most recent notebook off the shelves and thumbs through it. It's notes on Quirks,
mostly. Anatomy, physics, and limitations are the most prevalent details, though there's a page in
the middle that rants about how the laws of physics seem to not apply to Quirks and how much of a
headache it is, which is understandable. But there's an ink stain on the bottom corner of that page,
which is funny because everything is written in ballpoint pen. He checks over another notebook
and finds another ink stain. Interesting.
A few minutes later and he has every notebook aligned on the floor in order and open to the pages
with the stains. He stares at them for a while, unsure of what they mean. Then, from the corner of
his eye, he sees a flashlight. He picks it up. It's a normal one, but the on switch feels loose. He
pulls it out and finds that there's a smaller light inside of the switch. With a squeeze of his fingers,
it turns on. The light is purple. He's clever.
He points the light at the pages and finds twenty symbols. From notebook one to notebook twenty,
they spell out X&6201#@294BP6H-)Iq*. It's obviously a password, and he reaches for the only
device nearby. He unlocks the phone with his fingerprint and looks through it. He finds an
unmarked folder and tries to enter it. It requires authentication. Perfect.
After two seconds of scrolling through the files in the folder, he realizes how foolish he is. One
through Seven are dead, and he has posters of Eight on the walls. Clearly, he is Nine. It worries
him how much he doesn't feel like Nine, though. After a few minutes of the dreams, he feels like
himself. But this time he doesn't, and he failed to take obvious information into account. Why? For
the life of him, he can't figure it out.
After he closes the folder, he finds himself drawn to a bit of metal on the nightstand next to the
remnants of his alarm clock. It's a necklace, the one his friend got him for his birthday. He puts it
on, enjoying how the cold green lighting bolt feels against his skin. And then everything is clear.
So clear, in fact, that it makes him collapse.
Izuku stands up, rubbing under his eyes. He's tired and completely lost. His room is a mess, and he
knows why, but thinking about it makes his head ache. And that dream… Three died protecting
Four, and Three's Quirk is some kind of Emitter. A powerful one—no, that's not right. Izuku knows
that it wasn't anything special before Three got One for All. But whatever it is, it has a lot of
potential. But the downsides of it make him hope he'll never get it. Breaking down at fifty,
draining your life for power—it makes him want to forget that dream. But the information it gave
him is invaluable. He quickly writes it down in invisible ink and reorganizes his room.
He notices that One for All is still mad when he sits back down. It's not fighting to go on a
rampage anymore, but it's still tense. Like a coiled spring ready to launch, or magma flowing under
a volcano. Izuku just knows that it'll blow one day.
"What's wrong?" he whispers. The Quirk doesn't reply because it can't. It only moves inside of him
with more aggression and repressed rage. It wants to hurt. It wants to rip things apart. It wants
revenge. It wants to kill. Kill. All for One killed Three in his dream. Maybe…
"Today's the anniversary, isn't it?" The Quirk growls, straining against his mind a little. "That's a
bad way to put it. I'm sorry. But Three died on this day years ago, right?" One for All's mood
changes to approval. "I'm sorry for that. I… I'm sad too, even if I never knew him. He seemed like
a great man, even if he was a little rough." One for All relaxes, huffing like an annoyed dog.
"Did you know Three?" Izuku asks, curious as to if his theory regarding One for All fusing with
Blackwhip is true. One for All stills and then grows bitter. There's anger, but it's directed inward.
"You didn't, but you wish you did," Izuku says. The Quirk seems to agree. "I wish the same. But
you knew Four, right? Through Five?" One for All seems to twiddle its thumbs, not wanting to
answer, and Izuku comes to an amusing realization.
"You were a baby," he says, smiling. "You kind of remember Four, but you can't because you were
so young. Right?" One for All is silent, and Izuku realizes that he may have made a mistake. His
smile falls. "I'm sorry you don't remember Four. Wish I knew him too. And Three, and Two, and…
all of them. I have the vestiges and stories about Nana, but… I want to talk to them. I want to spar
with them. I wish they could see me and how strong I am." One for All relaxes, quietly agreeing
with him.
"It's like my dad, you know? Maybe you don't or maybe it's not, but… I've never seen him. And I
know I shouldn't care, but I still want him to be proud of me. Wherever he is." Izuku lays down in
bed and looks up at the ceiling. "The past users are our family. And One through Four are the ones
you never got to know but I'm sure you've heard a lot about. Three treated Four like a son, All
Might talks about Nana as a mother, and…" He doesn't finish that line of thought, too embarrassed
to say it out loud even as his own Quirk laughs at him.
"Shut up," he mutters good-naturedly. Then, "I can't believe I'm scolding my Quirk. You're not a
dog. What even are you? I'm way too tired for this…"
And he is. The clock says he should be working out, but his body craves sleep. So Izuku, being the
almost-healthy-but-not-quite-there-yet person he is, gets ready for bed again. He sends Nedzu a
message saying that he didn't sleep well and isn't coming in and draws the curtains shut. His phone
buzzes. Nedzu replied instantly. The principal wants him to go to school, but he's not required to be
there until two in the afternoon. Izuku replies that he agrees and lies in bed. He falls back asleep,
One for All resting in his chest like a happy, though grumpy, cat.
And then, because the world is cruel, he wakes up right after he falls asleep. His phone tells him
it's one o'clock, but Izuku feels like he got a second of rest. But somehow, that's enough. He rolls
out of bed, stretches, and starts his day. He forgoes his daily exercise and walks out the door with a
smile. He eats breakfast (which is really just lunch but bigger since he slept through a meal) at a
cafe by the train station and wonders why Nedzu wants him at U.A by two on the ride over. When
he arrives at school, he heads right for classroom 1-A. Voices come through the door, and he peeks
his head in slowly. Then he looks behind him because what he's seeing can't be real.
All Might, fully buffed up and wearing a hero costume, stands beside Aizawa's desk, talking with
the man in question as his friends admire sheets of notebook paper. "Ah, Young Midoriya!" his
mentor greets, walking over to the door and taking his hand to shake. "I've heard much about you
from Principal Nedzu. It's nice to finally meet you!"
"But we've met before?" Izuku says, gripping All Might's hand tightly.
"We have?" All Might says, cocking his head to the side.
"Yeah!" Izuku replies, catching what's going on. "You saved me last year! Or was it two years ago?
But you did save me. I even have an autograph."
"Ah," All Might says, firmly patting Izuku's shoulder. "I'm sorry I forgot you. I save so many
people that it all bleeds together."
"It's okay," Izuku assures, trying to ignore how Aizawa stares at him around All Might with a
perfectly flat expression. He knows something's up—he did before, obviously, but seeing him try
to sniff out the truth to such a blatant lie is a little nerve-racking. "Um, why are you here, sir? If it's
not too impolite to ask, I know you're an alum and, well, All Might, I'm just curious as to wh—"
"Haha, you're quite eager!" All Might says, turning around and causing his cape to swish. "The
principal told me about some promising young heroes, and I figured I'd pop in to check in on you
all. I'm getting old, you know. It'd be nice to know that you zygotes can pick up the slack when I
retire!"
"You're not that old," Izuku says reflexively. All Might belly-laughs, which makes Nejire and
Mirio laugh, which makes Tamaki smile.
"How nice of you to say, young man," All Might says, holding an arm up with his index finger
extended. "But we have things to do!"
"What things?" Izuku asks. And across the room, Mirio's smile doubles in size.
"Why, training, of course," All Might says, his blue eyes gleaming with something dangerous.
"The combat kind." And inside of Izuku, One for All purrs in excitement.
Izuku, Mirio, Nejire, and Tamaki are given ten minutes to get ready. They waste half of it talking
about how insane it is to fight All Might. Izuku has to fake his worry and awe because he's done it
at least a few times a week for the past year, but everyone else is nervous. Well, Mirio isn't. Nejire
and Tamaki are.
"Do you think I can ask him about my supermoves? Or maybe I could ask him about his career?
He seems really nice and open; I bet he'll talk to us after."
"He might be busy though," Izuku points out, wary of All Might's time limit. It's under three hours,
pushing two and a half, and there's no way Mirio—or anyone really—won't talk his ear off for
much longer than that. "I'm happy he's here too, but he's All Might.”
"Yeah," Mirio says, a little disappointed, "but I can hope, y'know? I just can't wait to fight him!"
"Can't wait to get beat into the ground, you mean," Tamaki says, nervously playing with his
sleeves. "There's no way we'll win. Even if he goes easy, he's still All Might. We'll be lucky if we
walk away with our dignity."
"Nah, it'll be fine. Right, Izuku?" Nejire asks, leaning into him. She rests her chin on his shoulder
and wraps a hand around his forearm. It squeezes then loosens and then squeezes again. Her right
knee is shaking. "We're going to do great! There's no way Aizawa would let us do something that's
not beneficial. We're going to have fun being beaten into the ground. We'll learn a lot fighting the
greatest hero of all time…" She trails off, eyes faraway-looking. "We're screwed."
Izuku can't help but snort. "He's not going to kill us. We might need a trip to Recovery Girl, but
there's nothing to be afraid of." He gently grabs her wrists and helps her stand up straight. Even
when she's clearly shaken up, she never stops moving, though she's less flowy and sure of herself.
She's tense. "He's the greatest hero ever; there's no way the greatest hero ever would ever hurt us."
"Maybe," Nejire says.

"No, definitely," Izuku counters, squeezing her shoulders a bit. "We'll be fine.”
"Yeah," Nejire agrees. "We'll be fine." Izuku smiles and she smiles back. Off to the side, Mirio
coughs.
"We're almost out of time," he says, heading to the door. "Let's get going!" They follow him out,
Izuku and Nejire first with Tamaki trailing behind. Mirio holds the door open, and Izuku hears
what sounds suspiciously like a kiss when he's through. He turns around to see Tamaki, bright pink
in the cheeks.
"We're almost out of time," Izuku says. "We might want to get going before Miss Midnight comes
around and cracks the whip."
"Don't remind me," Tamaki says, pulling down his hood. "That was awful."
"Totally worth it, though," Mirio replies shamelessly.
"That's enough of that," Nejire says, grabbing Izuku's arm and pulling him down the hall. "They're
waiting for us!"
'They' being half the U.A staff and a good chunk of the student body. Aizawa, Nedzu, and All
Might stand on a stage outside the gates of a fake city with massive monitors lit up with the school
motto. The four of them stop just outside the door, shocked at the size of the crowd.
"I thought this was supposed to be a basic combat exercise," Izuku says.
"I did too," Mirio replies. He quickly wipes the awe off of his face. "But there were more at the
Sports Festival! This'll be a piece of cake compared to that!"
"I wanna go home," Tamaki mumbles. "I'm going to embarrass myself."
"No, you won't," Mirio starts. But All Might cuts him off.
"Come on up here, young heroes! I'm ready to start when you are!"
The view of the crowd from the stage doesn't help with Izuku's nerves. There are just so many, and
he knows some of them. Support students wave, and his old classmates give him the stink eye.
Well, all except one. Oto's bright blond hair bounces as he waves both hands, his fellow business
course members waving with him. But Izuku's still nervous.
"Picture them as potatoes," Tamaki whispers.
"Does that work?" Izuku whispers back.
"Sometimes. But they always have human bodies and that shakes me up. Maybe if I just don't look
at them…" He pulls his hood down over his eyes and looks to the side.
"May I have your attention," Nedzu says into a microphone. The energy of the crowd dims and
everyone focuses on the principal. "Thank you. Today we are here to enjoy something very
special. One of our alumni has agreed to spar with our hero students. Each of the third year hero
course students will have a chance next week, but we thought it would be a pleasant surprise if
some of our younger pupils were given the chance. Would you four mind introducing yourselves?"
Mirio takes the mic without question and holds it up to his face with a smile. "Hi! I'm Togata
Mirio, second year. My hero name is Lemillion." He hands the mic off.
"I'm Tamaki A-A-Amajiki. Second year. Hero name is Suneater."
Izuku takes it next. "I'm Midoriya Izuku, first year. My hero name is Deku." He breathes a sigh of
relief when Nejire takes the mic, glad he didn't get his name backwards like Tamaki.
"I'm Hado Nejire! Second year. My hero name is Nejire-chan."
Nedzu takes back the mic. "Perfect, thank you all. All Might and these four will be fighting in a
four-on-one mock battle. The simulation will be on a timer. Thirty minutes will be on the clock,
but I don't think that it will last that long. Time will start when all combatants are ready, and will
stop if one side subdues the other or if it runs out. Each side will start on opposite sides of the city,
All Might in the north and the students in the south. Are we all ready?"
There's a cheer of approval from the gathered students and staff. "I meant the combatants, but that
enthusiasm is quite pleasant to hear!" Nedzu looks over to Izuku and then to All Might. "Are you
ready?"
"Yes, of course."
"Sure."
"Capital! You may enter the city. Reply to me when I ask if you're set, and try not to kill each
other. Remember to have fun!"
The flight over the city is tense and quiet. Izuku carries Mirio and Tamaki so Nejire doesn't waste
her valuable energy, and they land on a tall office building. "We've got time before it starts, I
think," Mirio says. “We should probably strategize. C'mon, huddle up!"
They pull in close, wrapping arms around shoulders and pressing their heads together. Mirio makes
a joke about combining brainpower, but it does little to lighten the mood.
"How exactly do we plan to fight All Might?" Tamaki asks rhetorically. "He'll crush any plan we
make and do it in front of the entire school."
"It's training," Izuku points out.
"Like that makes it better."
"No, no," Nejire says, bobbing her head up and down. "It's training. He can't totally crush us."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, All Might is unstoppable because of his massive strength that he uses to take down massive
villains. Remember that fight he had with that woman with the dragon Quirk a few years back?"
"He knocked her down in one hit and made a crater the size of Texas," Mirio recalls, exaggerating
a little.
"And the villain was only knocked out," Nejire adds on.
"He can't go all out on us," Izuku says. "Not unless he wants to kill us. Which means his strongest
attacks are off the table. No massive wind blasts, no California Smashes. He'll have to dial
everything back. It'll still be hard for us to deal with but not impossible."
"So what's the strategy?"

"Keep him distracted," Izuku decides. "He's still one person fighting four of us. If we make it so he
can't keep track of two of us at once, then he's bound to slip up eventually. Nejire and I will be
okay in the air; Tamaki, you're on the ground; and Mirio, you just be you."
"All right!" Mirio says, giving the thumbs up.
"And what if he never slips up?" Tamaki asks.
"We run the clock out," Izuku says simply. "Dodge, scatter, make it so he can't get all of us. A tie
against All Might is about as good as a win, I think. And we're here to have fun, so winning isn't a
huge deal."
"It'd still be nice, though," Nejire says. "Can you imagine? Beating All Might in a fight would be a
huge deal."
"You're less nervous," Izuku notices.
"We have a plan now," Nejire says. "It's not as bad when I've got you on my side."
"Huh," Izuku says, feeling warm. "We'd better get set."
"Yeah," Nejire agrees. Off to the side, Mirio coughs.
The four of them stand ready on the edge of the building. A drone buzzes overhead, no doubt
recording them for the audience to see. Nedzu's voice comes over a speaker asking them if they're
ready. They are. Two seconds later, the buzzer sounds and they charge.
Chapter End Notes
I'm a tease lol. I'd apologize but I'm too busy writing the next chapter already. Also
before anyone asks, I'm doing something different with the second and third users of
OfA. I planned this before we even knew that Four's Quirk was, so I have ideas for
everyone else. I'll use the cannon Quirks for Four and Six (who I have to go back and
edit for because I out the wrong Quirk down in the file on him) but Two and Three are
going to be my OCs. I hope you don't mind. Cheers!
Show Me What You've Got!
Chapter Notes
As of July 17, 2021 this chapter has been edited and reformated by my beta, flauel
"You're planning something."
"Now, now, I've been nothing but honest and upfront today. They were surprised about the
audience, but it's All Might. If we didn't let everyone watch, the students would've walked out of
class asking for autographs. We can't have that during training—which is the goal of this. Those
four have a lot of potential; it won't be long until they've outgrown our school."
"And those broadcasting deals I saw on your desk had nothing to do with this."
Nedzu laughs because he's frustrating like that. "I will present them with the choice of having
footage from this match being made public. If they don't consent, then people will have to deal
with amateur phone footage of the match. If they do, then I have a pay-per-view channel ready,
along with an internet streaming site."
"It's a publicity stunt," Aizawa grumbles, shoving his hands into his pockets. "They fight All
Might, word gets out, and UA gets more attention. They will too, inevitably. Those kids aren't your
tools, sir."
"It's for mutual benefit," Nedzu says, sipping on his tea. "They're all aiming for the top, no? Well,
Young Amajiki might be happy staying out of the spotlight, but the rest want to make it big. This
will help them a lot. And the school will receive more donations if our backers see that we have
future top heroes."
"We always have future top-tenners," Aizawa mutters. "Every three years or so, a kid comes
through that's obviously cracking the list. We literally churned out All Might, Jeanist, Endeavor,
and Edgeshot within twenty years. We're not losing any coffers."
"No, but there are more to gain." Nedzu checks his watch. "And you know Midoriya is going to be
a monster when he's done growing. Quirk and skill-wise, at least. It's hard to say if he'll be tall or
not, though his physical growth is quite impressive. The other three, too, of course. They'll be
better than the current top four when their time comes. I just know it."
"We don't even need more money," Aizawa sighs. "We literally just bought new robots, medical
droids, and the Sports Festival is already in production. We still have savings after all of that."
"Yes, but I have plans, Aizawa. Plans. Why focus on just the hero world or just high schoolers or
just Japan when we can go bigger."
"You want to make a whole school district—no, empire." Nedzu doesn't deny it, which is basically
a confirmation. "The Commission won't let you. They've got this country by the balls; there is no
way in a million years that they'll let you start working on that level of power-snatching."
"Oh, but that's half the fun." Nedzu eyes gleam as the countdown timer itches closer to zero. "It's
like a game of chess or any other sport. Sure, winning is great, but where's the fun without a
challenge? The harder the fight, the sweeter the victory."
"There's going to be a tax hike when they figure that out." Aizawa crosses his arms and watches
the massive monitor. Midoriya is shifting on his starting platform, ready to do something really
stupid or really amazing. Or both. Probably both. "They'll start their own government-controlled
hero program and take money away from your potential backers."
"Charitable donations can be used as a tax write-off," Nedzu argues.
"We'll get a tax hike, too," Aizawa points out. "We're a private school. We already pay more taxes
annually than I'll make in my entire life. And it'll only get higher. What's going to happen to your
power grab then?"
"I have friends in high places, don't worry," Nedzu says, waving him off. "And we'll have to
continue this talk another time. They're about to begin!"
"I just hope you're not going to do anything malicious if your plan succeeds," Aizawa mutters.
Nedzu laughs. "Why, Mr. Aizawa, you should have faith in your employer. I would never hurt an
innocent soul."
"Yeah," Aizawa grunts, "innocent."
[x]
"Keep a good eye out! We don't know if he's trying to press the attack or not!"
"I'm not seeing anything," Mirio says from under him. His bright white and red costume is hidden
by a cocoon of Blackwhip, and his head moves around, looking for the telltale red, yellow, and
blue of All Might's costume. Off to the right, Tamaki does the same, hanging from Nejire's ankles.
"Should we climb higher?" Nejire asks, hair trailing behind her as she flies like a blue streamer.
"He's mostly ground-based, and more height would give us more time to dodge if he jumps up to
attack."
"It also means that if we get the drop on him, our initial attack will take more time to land," Izuku
points out. "We're aiming to catch him off guard; we can't sacrifice speed if that's our main goal. If
we climb too high, we'll have to change the plan. It's a good backup idea, though!"
"Ah, I remember when I used to talk strategy mid-battle." Izuku nearly freezes when he hears All
Might's loud, booming voice come from below. "It was back when I was young and foolish,
though, so it's not the best of habits. Good thing I am here to beat it out of you!"
"Swerve!" Izuku orders, dashing to the side right as All Might jumps between him and Nejire.
"Counter! Something big!" he screams, dropping Mirio on a nearby building and cocking back his
arm. The air focuser slides out, and he watches All Might's ascent gradually slow.
"Wait until he's right about to start falling!" Nejire calls. "Tamaki, Izuku, get ready to pull him
down!"
The wind in All Might's ears drowns out their yells. That or he's letting them get a shot in because
he doesn't change his direction or shift in any way as Izuku and Nejire prep all-out attacks.
"Smash!"
"Gring Wave!"
Gold energy and white wind hit All Might's back in unison, creating a big enough explosion of
light and heat to make Izuku flinch. It should be the perfect opportunity for All Might to catch him
and Nejire off guard. But One for All doesn't need to see, and Tamaki's eyes are protected by a
thick layer of reptilian scales. Tentacles wrap around All Might's legs, black and inky or red and
writhing with life. The boys pull with everything they have and send All Might into the pavement
of the street below.
"Blinder Touch Eyeball Crush!" Izuku hears Mirio yell. He blinks the blindness out of his eyes and
tries to locate everyone by hearing. Tamaki is hopping down from a building to support his
boyfriend, and Izuku thinks he can hear the sparkle of Nejire's spirals off to the right of him.
"We need goggles the next time we do that," Nejire says as his eyes start to clear.
"Yeah," Izuku replies, getting ready to dash down. There are still some spots, but Mirio can keep
All Might distracted for just a little longer. "Want to head to the support lab sometime next week?"
"Sure. But let's get down there!"
Izuku opens with an axe kick to All Might's head. Even at full power and with extra momentum
generated by Float and Blackwhip, All Might shrugs it off and counters with a punch directed at his
gut. But the man's fist is wrapped up in octopus tentacles, and Mirio grabs his ankle as he dashes
by it. Izuku dashes away, flicking small airblasts to keep his master on his toes.
"Not half bad!" All Might says, laughing as he bats away a chunk of concrete thrown by Tamaki.
"But you'll have to do better than that!" He leaps to the side, kicks off a building, and dives at
Nejire. She dodges, using a blast of power she'd usually use for a finishing attack to get out of the
way, and even then it's a close thing. Izuku buys her some more time by wrapping All Might's arms
in Blackwhip and pulling himself in.
He drives his heels into the man's spine and reaches his arms around his neck. All Might simply
kicks a blast of air upward, forcing himself down. Izuku and his master slam into the already
broken concrete, sending earth flying and causing a few pipes to burst. All Might grabs him by the
wrist and chucks him into a nearby clothing store.
Shrugging off rubble and luxury boxers, Izuku flies out of the building and back into the fight. He
picks up a hunk of a fallen tree and throws it at All Might's head, forcing the man to move in front
of Nejire's line of fire. She lets a blast rip, but it has little effect—other than giving Mirio the
chance to kick All Might across the jaw and escape into the ground. Tamaki capitalizes on All
Might's moment of distraction too, shifting into one of his chimera forms and charging in. He
shoulder-checks All Might, who shifts backwards a bit but picks Tamaki up by his horse legs and
throws him into the same clothing store.
Izuku catches his friend before he makes it too far, trusting Blackwhip to steady him and rushing in
close. "Tamaki, swap to working from range!" he orders. "I'll take over for you! Protect Nejire and
make sure he doesn't sneak a hit in!"
"Got it!"
Tamaki is skilled, Izuku knows that. But in terms of raw power, he's outclassed by him and Nejire.
Their original goal was to get a finishing hit once Mirio and Tamaki got All Might sufficiently
distracted or worn down. But it's clear that Tamaki doesn't have enough muscle to pull it off. But
Izuku just might.
He takes a running start, silently thanking Mirio for blinding All Might with his cape and Nejire for
hitting him with another blast. He tucks into a slide, skidding under his mentor before curling into a
ball. He uses two strands of Blackwhip to orientate himself, feet up, hands pressed into the ground.
He pours as much power into his body as he can bear, finding that it's above his former limit. Then,
he explodes, pushing up with his arms and extending his legs. Right into All Might's crotch. "Des
Moines Smash!"
"Fuck!" All Might swears in English, reaching down to protect his crotch. Izuku quickly spins on
his back, driving the back of his foot into All Might's ankle. The man stumbles, and Izuku dashes
away with Float.
"Nejire! Now!"
"Got it! Full charge…"
From the corner of his eye, Izuku can see her building up for a massive blast, probably bigger than
he's ever seen her do. In front of him, Mirio takes a few potshots on All Might while Tamaki keeps
him busy. It's not hard to do since the man has to alternate between cupping his groin and dodging
massive animal parts. Izuku pulls his arm back and gets ready.
"One for All… forty percent…" He locks eyes with Nejire. She smiles and nods. "Smash!"
"Nejire-nova!"
Mirio and Tamaki clear out of the way just before their hits land. All Might takes both the wind
and the energy head-on, flying into a brick building on the other end of the street with enough
force to collapse. Izuku allows himself to feel awed for just a moment. Then he grabs his shoulder
because he definitely pulled or hurt it with that last punch.
"Are we done?" Nejire asks doubtfully. "There's no way it would only take one of those."
"You're right," Izuku says, starting to fly towards the other two members of their team. Nejire
follows behind. "He's tough. I don't think we'll win, but if we keep getting shots like that in, we'll
go home happy."
"All Might definitely isn't going home happy," Nejire says, chuckling a little.
"What?" Izuku asks, touching down by Mirio. "Why not? He always smiles. And he's probably
really enjoying this. He'll be going home happy for sure."
"Yeah, about that," Mirio says, not quite meeting Izuku's eyes. He looks a little green, and his
hands rest on his stomach, fidgeting anxiously. "You kicked All Might. In the balls. With enough
force to break a mountain."
"Ah," Izuku says, catching on.
"Aizawa's probably pulling his hair out right now," Tamaki mumbles. Nejire snorts.
"It'll be fine," Izuku says confidently.
Nejire rests a hand on his shoulder. "Izuku, you're smart and amazing. But I do not for one second
believe that you are not about to be curb-stomped."
"It'll be fine," Izuku repeats. And even he doesn't quite believe it. "It's a fight. He's got decades on
us, and we're just a bunch of high schoolers. There's no way he'll—"
A few dozen meters away, a beefy, tanned fist punches through a pile of rubble. Then another. And
then the head appears. All Might is smiling, but not like usual. Instead of being bright and
inspiring, it's predatory and wild. The kind that Izuku sees in the mirror more often than not.
"You know," All Might says, cracking his neck, "I would've thought that they taught you some
basic common sense here at UA." He rises from the bricks and flexes. Every spec of dirt falls off
of his costume. Izuku's friends promptly abandon him. "But I suppose I'll have to pick up the slack!
Starting with you, Deku!" He rushes, and Izuku backpedals, fight or flight in full effect because All
Might never uses his hero name.
"I'msosorrysiritwon'thappenagainIthoughtitwasagoodideaisall!" Izuku cries, holding his hands in

front of his face because he just knows he's about to get it. But All Might isn't merciful.
"Here's my first tip," he says, stopping mere inches in front of Izuku. He cocks his arm back for a
Detroit Smash. Izuku closes his eyes and braces for impact. "Never kick a man in the testicles
unless you're sure he won't get up." The impact never comes. Izuku slowly opens his eyes, ready to
look death in the eyes. He sees All Might's hand an inch away from his chest.
"Oregon Smash!" All Might yells, slamming his fist into Izuku's diaphragm with what feels like the
might of a few hundred suns. It sends Izuku careening through the streets, smashing through
buildings, and decapitating a fake monument. He only stops when he hits the ground, tearing up a
park in the middle of the city and creating a skid mark wide enough to fit a semi-truck in. One for
All howls with laughter inside of his head.
"Traitors," Izuku grunts, pulling himself out of his crater. "All four of you. You for laughing and
them for leaving me."
One for All only laughs harder, and Izuku looks around. No one's nearby, but the noise of
collapsing buildings doesn't give him any comfort. His back aches too—not bad, but still
uncomfortable enough to make him less combat-effective than usual. But, if the rapidly growing
blot in the sky is any indication, he'll just have to keep going.
"Hi, All Might!" Izuku waves, preparing his Quirk. He waits, listening to the whoosh of his master
cutting through air, and watching carefully so he gets the timing right. When All Might is less than
ten meters away, he jumps back. The man's fist hits the dirt right in front of where Izuku was
standing. Dirt flies everywhere, but All Might's smile can be seen through the brown and black.
"Young man!" All Might greets, walking forward to where Izuku landed. "It appears that you've
been cut off from your allies! Prepare to lose!"
Izuku backflips over a column of air and casts a strand of Blackwhip out. It wraps around a tree,
and he uses it to slingshot away. Behind him, All Might leaps and bounds, trying to keep up. But
this is one of the places where Izuku shines the most. Mobility in an urban environment is key, and
he's got three Quirks for it. He leads All Might on a wild goose chase, running down the clock as
he weaves around air blasts and chucks pieces of buildings behind him.
"You can run but you can't hide!" All Might taunts, hurling an I-beam over Izuku's shoulder. The
boy has to spin to avoid running into it from behind because that's how fast he's flying. Every
corner he turns is close enough to make his heart skip a beat, and the pressure on his face has
gotten to the point where he needs to put his mask and goggles on. But All Might is treating it like
a joke, which, considering he's All Might, is probably fair.
"I'm pretty good at running!" Izuku calls back, spinning around a lamppost and casting a whip to
his right. Somehow, he knows that All Might is already moving to counter, so he drops the whip
and rockets off to the left. Now with a little breathing room, Izuku glances behind him. And
promptly gets a punch to the gut because All Might can move faster than the eye can see and has
been going easy on him this whole while.
This time, Izuku stops himself from going through an entire city and redirects himself upwards. He
climbs so high that he can see most of the city below, and has to dodge yet another blast of air. All
Might must have amazing aim if he can stay on target at that distance. Izuku retaliates with an air
blast of his own, but it's used to push him downward, right in front of where All Might is standing.
He dives under his legs again, but All Might closes them. Perfect. Izuku lets his ribcage get trapped
between All Might's heels. His hands and legs are free, which is all he needs. Blackwhip rips from
his skin, clawing at All Might's arms and face. Instinctively, the man reaches up, trying to pull the
black tentacles off of his face. While he's distracted, Izuku uses two more whips, one from his foot
and another from his shoulders. They pull him in opposite directions, and Izuku becomes a
spinning top.
The world's Symbol of Peace falls face-first into the ground and tries to grab him. But Izuku's
faster and rolls away. He perches in a nearby tree, watching as his teacher scans the area for him.
When All Might looks in the opposite direction of where he is, Izuku pounces.
"When you're smaller, get in close," Izuku remembers from one of his first lessons. He lands on All
Might's back and uses it as a springboard, causing the man to stumble forward a little. Izuku grabs
onto one of his wrists and pulls it behind his back. He feels the hand tense, and he pushes it away
before All Might can throw him off. Then he hooks one of his legs around All Might's shoulder and
launches himself upward. Before All Might can react, Izuku bursts back down and lands on the top
of his head. In one fluid motion, he bends at the waist and slams his hands down, right on top of All
Might's ears.
The man lets out a pained grunt, and Izuku dashes away. But it's not to escape. Instead, he uses two
strands of Blackwhip to hurl himself forward and slam his feet into All Might's face. All Might
doesn't budge, but Izuku isn't done. He slams one of his fists into All Might's neck and grabs one of
the man's arms. With all of his might, he lifts him up, spins mid-air, and drives all two-hundred ish
kilos of him into the ground.
The resulting boom is enough to shatter glass a block away. Buildings, already weakened from the
fighting, collapse, sending dangerous amounts of debris into the air. But Izuku doesn't let up. He
kicks All Might across the face and uses the flying bits of stone as bludgeons, trying to keep up the
momentum so All Might can't retaliate.
"Alright, that's enough of that." Izuku stills for just a moment because All Might said that so
casually. Like he's a dog owner that's grown tired of the way his pet rips into a chew toy. Not a
half-second later, Izuku's pinned under All Might's boot. He claws at it, trying to push against the
titanic force keeping him down. He tries to use Blackwhip, but All Might increases the pressure,
forcing him to lose focus.
"You had a good run," All Might praises, "but you're not on my level yet. A few more years and—"
"Heads up!"
An entire full-sized truck rams into All Might's face, tailgate first. There's a comical donk followed
by a crash and the sound of a car alarm blaring. Izuku uses the moment of distraction to get away,
keeping a close eye on All Might, who picks the truck up and tosses it aside like it's a toy. Beside
him, his friends appear, Mirio from the ground and Nejire from the sky, carrying Tamaki.
"What took so long?" Izuku asks, getting ready to take off again.
"Planning," Nejire explains. "You made for a really good distraction; we just wanted to make sure
it didn't go to waste. But then you got curb-stomped, so our ideas all went out the window."
"The truck was completely improvised," Tamaki elaborates.
"You used me as bait," Izuku says, not the least bit mad.
"Well, you're really good at keeping him busy," Mirio chuckles. "Think you can lead him around
for a little while longer? We kinda have something big in the works."
Izuku sizes up All Might, who's waiting patiently as they talk. Izuku also sizes himself up, since
he's not in top form. But nothing is broken, and he feels perfectly alert. "Yeah," he says, letting the
green lighting overtake him. "I can buy you guys a few minutes."
"Oh?" All Might calls. "Can you? Then you best come at me with everything you've got!"
Izuku looks at his friends and smiles. They can't see it because of his mask, but they smile back
anyways. He leaves them with a lazy two-fingered salute and a "Plus Ultra" before dashing to meet
his enemy.
They meet halfway, fists colliding in a battle of green lighting and strong wind. Izuku knows he
can't out-brute All Might. The man is a total damage sponge and can knock him out in one hit. So
he spins away from their clash, ducking under a swipe of the hand and kicking All Might in the
ribs. He follows up by kneeing his chest and punching his jaw, but All Might grabs him by the
wrist.
"Nope!" Izuku screams, curling up in a ball and kicking with both of his legs, right into All Might's
nose. The hand slackens and he escapes, flicking a few air blasts for good measure. All Might tanks
them easily, but that's fine. Izuku isn't worrying about dealing damage anymore. He just has to be a
big enough threat to keep All Might off his friends.
"Carolina..." All Might calls, crossing his arms into an X. Izuku tenses, ready to dodge the rush. He
knows enough about his teacher's super moves to understand that dodging too early is a great way
to lose. "Sike!" All Might brings his right foot back and kicks it into the ground, shaking the earth
and causing a massive shockwave followed by a blast of high-pressure air. Izuku is forced to take it
head-on, digging into the ground with Blackwhip and hoping he’s tough enough to bear it.
The dust is only just beginning to settle when Izuku hears a twip from behind him. A hand chops
the back of his neck and he's sent sprawling forward. "Nice try, young man," All Might says,
approaching Izuku as he tries to stand up. His body feels like one big bruise, and his head is
definitely rattled. He can't even struggle when All Might bends down and picks him up by the
collar of his costume. "Really, it was. But I've got years on you. I know about time-wasting." He
looks around quickly like they're being spied on. He leans in close and whispers in Izuku's ear, "I
actually got that idea from watching you. The ole bait 'n' switch is quite the tactic. You did
amazing."
"Wha…" Izuku feels his cheeks heat up a little. "Re—"
"And now to find your pesky little friends!" All Might yells, voice booming supernaturally loud
through the rubble of the city. He throws Izuku over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes and
prepares to take off. But then, a red glove grabs All Might's bangs, dragging them down all the
way to the ground. Izuku is dropped, and he somehow finds the strength to get away before he can
be recaptured. His legs are shaking, and he's pretty sure he won't be able to walk right, but the red
cape and sparkling smile by his side fill him with confidence.
"What're you doing here?" Izuku asks, letting Blackwhip push out of his back and suspend him off
the ground like he's a spider.
"I'm not much good for heavy lifting," Mirio explains, raising his fists back up. "You good to go?"
"Probably not," Izuku admits. Strands start to come out of his arms and chest, covering him like
armor. "But there's still time on the clock, and I wanna try something new."
"Come and get me, boys!" All Might hollers, shaking a fist. "Two on one's a bit unfair… for you!"
"He's just as dramatic in person," Mirio snickers.
Izuku wants to tell him that you get used to it, but that'll blow his cover. So instead he says, "Shut
up and fight," and Mirio happily complies.
As cool as Izuku being the real-life equivalent of Venom may be, he hasn't put much effort into it.
From what he'd pieced together, the old comics were about the host coming to an understanding
with the symbiote. He already had that, so using Blackwhip like the Venom suit should be easy.
Except it isn't.
He and One for All are in agreement. They trust each other. When Izuku wants to roll to the side,
One for All makes it happen. When One for All wants to press the attack, Izuku lets it. But the split
second it takes for them to give each other the go-ahead, there's a lag. Tiny, barely noticeable, but
when fighting someone like All Might, it makes a world of difference. It doesn't help that Izuku
has to keep track of ten limbs, the strongest man alive, and Mirio, either. But he fights on,
undeterred.
All Might decks him across the face. Blackwhip absorbs the impact and Izuku retaliates by using
some of the strands from his back to slash All Might across the chest.
Mirio pops out of the ground at just the wrong moment, right in front of All Might's fist. Izuku and
One for All instantly grab his ankle, pulling him to safety.
Izuku thinks about going for a rather risky maneuver, but One for All thinks differently about it.
Trusting his partner, Izuku settles for jumping away from All Might instead of trying to kick out
the man's knees.
It's near-perfect harmony. Izuku just wishes he thought about it earlier.
As the fight progresses, Mirio starts to move further in one particular direction. Izuku understands
what he's trying to do and immediately starts to move that way too. If All Might knows that they're
leading him into a trap, he doesn't show it, which is scary, but Izuku clings to the hope that maybe
they've got him fooled and keeps moving. "Look!" Mirio yells, letting a Detroit Smash phase right
through his gut. He points to the skyline, and Izuku sees a bright golden spiral above a radio tower.
"Got it!" Izuku yells back, picking up a chunk of concrete and throwing it at All Might's head.
While he's distracted, he wraps Mirio up in a few whips and uses one more to pull them up to the
top of a building. He grabs onto Mirio bridal-style. "Have you ever seen the Amazing Spider-
Man?"
"Yes," Mirio says, smiling. "If you're going to do what I think you're going to do, do it."
"You got it!"
Izuku takes a running start on the roof of the building and jumps off the side. He falls, breaking a
few windows so All Might knows where he is. Once he's sure he has the man's attention, he throws
one of his hands up. A whip launches from his wrist and anchors to the side of another building.
Izuku swings, letting the momentum he gained from the fall carry him. He repeats the process,
keeping an eye on where the signal was moments earlier.
"He's gaining on us," Mirio says.
"I know," Izuku replies. The hairs on the back of his neck are standing on end, and the back of his
mind is telling him to run. It's not hard to put two and two together.
"You should probably do something."
"I know. Watch this!"
Izuku sharply turns right, speeding down a narrow alley at a breakneck speed. "That's a dead-end!"
Mirio screams.
"I know!" Izuku laughs and turns so his back will take the impact. They crash through the bricks,
not feeling a thing thanks to Blackwhip. All Might follows a second later, and the force from both
impacts is enough to bring the whole thing down. Which means that there's dust. Lots and lots of
dust. Enough to temporarily blind All Might and give them some breathing room.
"I can't believe that worked," Mirio says, shaking bits of wood from his hair. They must've rammed
right into a table or something because Izuku has to shrug off another piece that's stuck to his
shoulder.
"Me neither," Izuku says, and Mirio laughs.
"Nice joke."
"I'm not joking. I half-expected to get caught with that."
"You flew through a building even though you weren't sure about it."
"You don't sound surprised."
"That's because it's par for the course with you."
"Tha—heads up!" Izuku barrel-rolls, an entire fire escape brushing past him, close enough to
scratch his chest. He's lucky he's been carrying Mirio on his back since they got out of the building.
"Is he trying to kill us?!"
"No, that was gentle for him. Why do you think I'm only moving around in this suit thing?"
"I… you…" Mirio shakes his head violently. "We're almost there. Land in the fountain, you can't
miss it!"
"You got it!"
They land in a large pool of waist-deep water. A big splash turns the formerly crystal clear liquid
into a rippling pool of waves. As though they're on cue, small geysers turn on, throwing up three-
meter tall jets of water. All Might lands a few meters away, though much less gentle than they did.
He nearly empties the pool of water, and Izuku has to anchor to the bottom to keep from rocking
with the rhythm of the waves.
"What now, boys?" All Might asks, studying the area around him. The fountain is in a courtyard
surrounded by high-rise apartments that all look fancy. "You clearly wanted me here for a reason.
What elaborate trap have your friends made?"
"This," Mirio says, and sinks into the floor. Izuku is left just as confused as his master.
"Wh—"
An explosion shakes the area. Then another. And another. And three more. All from underneath
the ground. Izuku and All Might look down, but the real danger is above. Izuku only knows to
move because… well, he's not sure why. Something inside of him knows that where he is isn't
safe, so he takes off. All Might isn't so lucky. He ends up with five different apartments collapsed
on top of him, along with a few more explosions for good measure. Izuku watches it all from
above, slack-jawed and in awe.
"Pretty awesome, huh?" Izuku looks to the right to see Nejire happily floating at his side.
"I… you did that?" Izuku asks, pointing at the incomprehensible amount of destruction on the
ground. He lets the whips drop, and black is replaced with green.
"Tamaki and Mirio helped," Nejire says, "but it's like dominoes. You get one and the rest fall right
after!"
"Those are some really big dominoes," Izuku says, unable to put any of his other thoughts into
words.
Nejire giggles. "You think? I mean, that's gotta be, like, a million kilos of cement and steel down
there."
"Cementoss is going to cry."
"I'll send him a card and some treats."
"He likes white chocolate," Izuku remembers.
"Does he?" Nejire asks, somehow leaning towards him like she's laid across a desk. "I prefer dark
chocolate myself. Ooh, speaking of, there's this really nice fudge place near where we're getting
dinner tonight. Wanna go?"
"Sure," Izuku says, "I've got plenty of time."
"Home by eleven-thirty, though, right?"
"Or a little later," Izuku says, rubbing the back of his neck. "There's no rush."
"Ah," Nejire says. "It's a school night, though."
"Yeah, it is." Izuku tries to hide his disappointment.
"Maybe Saturday?" Nejire tries. Izuku shakes his head.
"I'm busy all day. What about Sunday?"

"I've got a family thing."
"Oh."
"Yeah."
"Are you still up for going to the support labs?"
"Definitely!" Nejire clears her throat, a little red-faced. "Er, yeah. I've been needing new support
gear for a while, so…"
Izuku nods. "See you then."
"You'll see me tonight, too," Nejire chuckles. "And we haven't even picked out a day."
"I know, it's just…" Izuku gestures vaguely to Nejire, who seems to get the point. She smiles.
"I understand."
The match ends with All Might winning. The Symbol of Peace, no matter how old or outnumbered
he is, won't lose to a bunch of high schoolers, no matter how many of Nejire's dominoes they throw
on him. But it's fine. Their loss is a good one. They lasted a whole twenty-five minutes against
him, which is probably some kind of record. Izuku can't stop smiling, either. Not even as Recovery
Girl scolds him for pushing too hard. His mind is elsewhere, floating about in the clouds beside a
girl with blue hair and a warm smile.
Chapter End Notes
You guys have been deprived of action for a while, so here you are. ~4.5k words of it.
The date will be in the next chapter, probably the funeral for the kid Shigaraki killed
too. I'd like to include Izuku's new agency, but it might not happen. I've probably said
this before, but I just have a rough bullted list of events and length estimates. One
chapter might have five bullets or it might have one. This is a one (maybe one and a
half) bullet chapter. Cheers!
Awkward First Date Tropes, Go!
Chapter Notes
TW: Sexual Harassment. Starts at "She can take them!" Ends at "You do know he's
gay, right?" Both are bold.
As of July 17 2021 this chapter has been edited and reformated by my beta, flauel
"Sweetie, are you sure you want to wear that?"
Izuku looks up from his phone, sees his mother's skeptical expression, and then looks down at his
clothes. "Yeah?" he says, brushing some invisible dust off of his t-shirt. "I mean, it's better than
what I usually wear when I'm not at school." It really is; the shirt isn't faded, fits well, and doesn't
have a graphic on it. It's just a plain—boring, even—gray v-neck. He's even bothered to tuck it into
his jeans.
"It's a little tight," his mother says, walking over and tugging on the sleeve. "Unless that's what
you're going for?"
"It's not, but I don't mind." Izuku pulls at the fabric covering his stomach and watches it snap back
into place. "It's not suffocating me or anything."
His mother looks at him for a moment. Izuku can't quite read her expression. "Fine. Are you taking
a jacket?"
"Yeah, my leather one." Izuku points to the coat hanger by the door. "It's not that cold, though."
"Hado might be," his mother says.
"What?"
"Nothing," she continues, "just be nice to her. I know I don't have to say that to you, but still."
"Alright," Izuku says, feeling like he's missing a rather important detail. "Um, anything else?"
"Be home by eleven or I'll assume the worst."
"I don't think we'll have to worry about villains, Mom," Izuku says, double-checking the time he's
supposed to be at the restaurant. "It's a nice area, lots of heroes, and we're pretty strong. I'll be
home on time."
His mother sighs and sits on the couch next to him. She pulls him in for a hug. "Never change,
Izuku, never change. Did you put on that fragrance I gave you?"
"I didn't know how," Izuku says. "But I did know that you're not supposed to go overboard, so I
thought I'd just wait or skip it."
"Good thinking," his mother says. "A little goes a long way. Is it in your room?"
"On my dresser."
His mother leaves and comes back with a small glass bottle half full of clear liquid and a
washcloth. She hands the bottle to him and has him stand. "Have you seen me put on perfume?"
"Once," Izuku recalls. "You kinda sprayed it in the air and walked through, right?"
"Yes, but don't do that with this. That perfume was old and pretty weak; cologne is much stronger."
She taps the bottle with her nail, making a small clink. "Use two squirts, one on your neck and
another on your wrist. Don't hold the bottle too close. Go ahead."
Izuku looks down at the bottle and then at his skin. He carefully aims the nozzle and pushes down.
A small spray of liquid lands, some of it getting on his palm.
"That was too far," his mother says, wiping his hand down with the towel. "Closer next time. Just a
few centimeters."
Izuku nods and holds the bottle to his neck. He pushes the nozzle down and feels the cool spray on
his skin. All of it lands on his neck. "Now rub it in," his mother instructs. Izuku complies and runs
his hands on his neck and wrist. When he's done, he has a little left on his palms. "Put that on your
other wrist and then wash up. How does it smell?"
"Good," Izuku says. "Kind of like a campfire."
His mother nods, smiling. "It was your father's. He really liked theming things around fire. He used
to light people's cigarettes with his own breath for a laugh. He didn't smoke himself, though. He
liked smelling good too much for it."
"Is that the only reason?" Izuku asks.
"Pretty much. He breathed literal smoke and fire, you know, so actually smoking probably
wouldn't have been bad for him. But don't you dare take it up yourself." His mother firmly grasps
his forearm and looks him in the eyes. "No drugs—"
"No alcohol, I know," Izuku says calmly. His mother relaxes.
"Good. We have a history of addiction and abuse in our family, you know."
"We do?"
"My mother and her side do. She… got on some substances after having me, and my father actually
divorced her because of it. She did get clean eventually and had a few more kids. But she died
young anyways." His mother looks at the floor sadly. "I really don't want to go to another funeral
like that ever, Izuku."
"I understand."
"Thank you. But try not to think about it too much tonight, alright?" His mother gently pats him on
the cheek. "Have fun. I know you're smart enough to avoid bad things—you know I worry anyways
—but what's important is that you enjoy yourself. Just make sure you come back to me okay, you
hear?"
Izuku smiles. "Yes, ma'am."
He's out the door a few minutes later, jacket zipped up and smelling faintly of a warm campfire. He
wears his father's old scarf too, though he hardly needs it. The jacket is warm enough on its own
and doesn't really go well with the old-fashioned-looking fabric, but he doesn't care. It's pleasant
and comfortable which is all that really matters.
The train ride is short and crowded. Izuku makes sure to keep his head down the whole time so he's
not recognized. It's happened a few times, which is nice, but he doesn't really feel like talking to
fans or strangers tonight. It's just supposed to be him and Nejire; the last thing he wants is to turn
his attention away from her.
The restaurant is a small one. A small, halfway fancy one that would probably be full of people
waiting if it were a weekend or a holiday, but on a weeknight in early fall, it's not too bad. There
are enough people for it to feel alive without it feeling cramped—perfect, in Izuku's opinion. He
walks through the door and tells the hostess that he's meeting with a girl with blue hair.
Nejire isn't here yet, which is fine, so Izuku hangs up his coat on a nearby rack and follows a
waiter to a table. It's right by the window overlooking a dimly lit garden of flowers. Two seats are
on opposite sides of a small table with a floral centerpiece. A chandelier hangs overhead. Soft and
slow music plays in the background. For whatever reason, it makes Izuku's heart skip a beat. Even
more so when he realizes that Nejire will be in the seat opposite him in a few minutes. It's probably
nothing.
Izuku twiddles his thumbs for a while, unable to bring himself to look at his phone. There's no
clock on the wall, but he can somehow feel the seconds tick by. Is this the right place? What if he
has to sit here and eat dinner alone? What if Nejire's at some other place thinking he stood her up?
Should he text her? Double-check the—
"Uh, sir?" Izuku looks up to see a rather tall and beefy waiter with thick lips and spiky brown hair.
"I, uh, do you, er… water?"
"Please," Izuku says, finding a little relief in the fact that he's not the only nervous person around.
Maybe it's the waiter's first day.
"Flat or sparkling?"
Izuku looks at the waiter for a moment, unsure. He was lower middle class until a few months ago.
There are different kinds of water?
"Flat, probably," the waiter says, his voice cracking. Apparently, he's a teenager too. Not that Izuku
would've ever thought it before. He's just so tall and solidly built.
"Yeah."
"I-I'll be right back." The waiter bows and walks away, leaving Izuku to scratch his head. He looks
around and watches as a waiter at a different table takes an order and leaves without a word. It's
almost definitely that guy's first day at work, then. Izuku will leave a good tip and—nope, that's not
a thing. All Might leaves tips because he just does. He even did it at Izuku's birthday lunch a year
ago which was rather painful to watch because the waiter at the burger place had no clue what was
going on. Izuku didn't either until All Might explained. Maybe he'll just be polite Instead. Yeah, no
need to cause a scene, especially with Nejire at the table. Nejire who's not here yet, which makes
his stomach float around uncomfortably.
"And here's your sparkling water, ma'am." Izuku looks over his shoulder to see a waitress set a thin
glass of carbonated liquid in front of an older woman. He resists the urge to facepalm because
sparkling water is just bubbly water he's such an—
Someone taps him on the shoulder. "Hello there!"
Izuku turns, stands, and hugs Nejire. "Hey," he says, feeling her wrap her arms around his lower
back.
"Good to see you too!" Nejire squeezes him tighter for a moment before pulling away. "Not that
we've been apart for long or anything."
Izuku feels his face heat up. "Y-yeah, sorry. I was…" He waves his hands around in front of him,
unsure of what to say. "I guess I kinda thought you were running late?" he settles on. Nejire smiles
sheepishly and blushes a little.
"I was, actually," she admits. "I was having trouble getting an outfit together. My dad washed what
I planned on wearing even though it was clean, and I missed the train I wanted. I would've been
here earlier, but…" She shrugs.
"You still look great," Izuku says. "For something you must've thrown together in a few minutes
it… it ah… yeah," he trails off, tongue-tied, because she really does look amazing. A pastel pink v-
neck tucked into a knee-length skirt is… it just looks good. Like really, really good. Izuku coughs
and strategically looks away.
"Did you just come from a bonfire or is that cologne?" Nejire asks, stepping back a bit and pulling
out her chair.
"Cologne, I think," Izuku says, relieved to have something else to talk about. "It was my dad's and
my mom had me try it. Does it smell alright?"
"Yep," Nejire says, watching him sit down. "I wouldn't wear too much of it though, otherwise
people will think you were in a forest fire."
"Yeah," Izuku agrees. "It might be too much for normal days, I think, but for special occasions, um,
yeah."
"Yeah," Nejire giggles. "Did a waiter come by already? I'm kinda thirsty."
"I got water for myself a little bit ago. He should be back soon." Izuku shifts in his seat and rests
his hands on the table. He starts to drum his fingers, looking at Nejire over the flowers on the table.
Her eyes are angled downward like she's looking at her lap or the table. He stops moving his
hands.
"Have you ever been here before?" Nejire asks, looking up. She leans forward and rests her chin on
one hand, angling her neck. "I probably should've asked earlier, but I forgot."
"N-no, I haven't," Izuku says, struggling to maintain eye contact with every ounce of his willpower,
because Nejire is a girl in a shirt with a lower collar. "I'm sure it's good, though!" He forcibly cuts
off that line of thought before it can begin and looks down at the table, wishing for his water to just
get here already.
"I've been a few times," Nejire says, drawing lazy circles in the tablecloth with her other hand. Her
nails are painted, which is unusual. And the colors don't match, either. One hand has every nail
painted a seafoam green except one, which is periwinkle. The other hand is the opposite, and for
some strange reason it sends heat down his neck. "I had their katsudon the first time. It was really
good."
"I'll have to try that, then," Izuku says with a smile. "Katsudon is probably my favorite food, but I
don't get to eat it often anymore."
"Because of your diet, right?" Nejire asks.
Izuku nods. "Fried food is a no-go for me. Or anything sugary, processed, or full of chemicals,
really. I mostly eat fresh meat and vegetables."
"What about grains? I've seen you go to town on bowls of rice before, but that's mostly carbs,
right?"
"Carbs are good for energy," Izuku explains. "But not, like, cookies and stuff. Sweets aren't good
for long-term energy because you crash after a while. Rice and meat give me a lot of energy and
protein so I can build muscle and go for longer." He flexes his bicep for dramatic effect. He misses
how Nejire's eyebrows shoot up towards her hairline. "I do it because of my Quirk, though. If I
didn't have to be so efficient with everything, I'd get to eat junk food."
"... Yeah," Nejire says, still looking at his arm, the upper part of which is outlined by the sleeve of
his shirt. "I mostly eat whatever in moderation. Maybe I'll have ice cream once a week or pizza
after a big test."
"I had cake on my birthday," Izuku recalls. "That's probably the last time I had something
unhealthy."
"You had popcorn when we saw that documentary."
Izuku feels his face go red. A miniature Gran Torino appears on his shoulder saying, "Are you two
gonna share a big bucket of popcorn and accidentally touch hands?"
"Yup, I definitely had popcorn then!" Izuku says way too loudly. Nejire laughs, though, so it's not
too bad. Her laugh is really nice, actually. He still silently vows to sneak sugar in Gran's coffee the
next time he sees the man.
"Excuse me, sir, and, um, ma'am?" Izuku breaks eye contact with Nejire to look at the waiter who's
back and holding a pitcher of water and two glasses. "I brought you your drink and a glass for her. I
didn't know what she wanted, but you can't go wrong with regular water, right?" Neither Izuku or
Nejire answers, so the waiter just keeps talking as he sets the glasses down. "Miss, if you want
something to drink, flag me down. And, sir, if you want something different, feel free to ask. And,
uh… are you guys ready to order?"
"We haven't even looked at the menus yet," Nejire says. The waiter looks down at the table which
is devoid of any form of menu or meal selection. A bead of sweat runs down the boy's face.
"I'll be right back."
"I think he's a fan of yours," Nejire says, grabbing her glass of water and lifting it to her lips.
"Is he?" Nejire nods, a real feat since she's taking a sip of water at the same time. "How can you
tell?"
"He's really nervous and won't look you in the eye," Nejire says, setting her water down. "That's
usually thought of as meaning that someone is into you, like, romantically, but you're a celebrity."
"No, I'm not," Izuku defends half-heartedly.
"Yes, you are," Nejire giggles. "But he either finds you to be very attractive or wants an autograph.
Probably the autograph since he sorta forgot how to do his job. If it were me and I had a cute boy
at a table—well, first of all, if he was with one other person, I wouldn't do anything, but—I'd do
my best to keep calm and casual. He's probably just starstruck."
"Where'd you learn that from?"
"Ryukyu," Nejire says proudly. "Part of being a woman who flies around in a skintight bodysuit is
knowing how people on the street think of you. It's part safety and part branding, you know?"
"That does sound like a useful skill," Izuku says. "I probably won't have to use it myself, though."
"How come?"
"Oh, well, you know." Izuku gestures to his body, chuckling a little.
"No, I don't."
"Ah." Izuku looks out the window for a second and then down at the tablecloth. "I'm not that good-
looking." Nejire remains silent. "And I'm fine with it. I don't mind my scars, I'm happy with my
body type, and I like how my hair is. But I'm just average. I've got muscles and that's about it. And
they're not even amazing muscles. I'm not like Mirio with a massive chest and a great back."
"You're hot," Nejire says out of the blue. Her face quickly turns beet red. "I mean, like, from an o-
objective standpoint, you're really, really attractive. People, uh, people like all sorts of people, you
know! You don't need the body of a Greek god to be hot. Because you already are hot. A-and I
mean that as a f-f-friend! Like, you're hot—no, I… like, I think you're hot but not as a… you're very
attractive and I—"
"Excusez-moi, les mignons, but I have your menus!" Izuku and Nejire both look over to see a
different waiter holding up two sheets of thick paper in front of his face in an odd pose. He
gradually lowers the menus and peers at them over the paper. He winks, blond hair bouncing as he
sets the menus down in front of them. "I simply must apologize for my coworker. Sato gets quite…
nerveux around famous customers—he simply doesn't know how to handle someone else's sparkle,
something I'm desperately trying to fix! We're both really big fans of yours." He looks at Izuku,
smiling brightly.
"Thanks for bringing these," Nejire says, her voice the embodiment of relief. She squints to look at
his name tag. "Could you give us a few seconds to look these over… Aoyaman?"
The waiter's eye twitches and he swiftly stashes his name tag in his pocket. "There's no need!" he
says, leaning over the table and dramatically resting his hands on his hips. "I can help you two
lovely heroes pick out the perfect evening meal!"
"That won't be necessa—"
"Shall we start with the wines?" The waiter cocks his head to the side and begins to count off
fingers. "We have some lovely Merlot, a delectable Chianti, the perfect Pinot Noir, and a luscious
Cabernet Sauvignon."
"We're not of age," Nejire says. The waiter's eye twitches again.
"Then grape juice will have to do."
"But we didn't ask for any?" Izuku looks at Nejire as the waiter struts off, completely confused. "Is
that normal?"
"Nope," Nejire says as she flips her menu over. "The staff here is usually pretty normal. A good
normal, anyway. But your two superfans must be trying to make some extra money. And get a
picture out of it, too."
Izuku sighs. "Being famous is weird."
"It kinda sucks, too, doesn't it?" Nejire laces her hands on top of the table and sits back in her chair.
"I don't think I'd mind it a whole lot, but if people just came up to me when I was minding my own
business, I'd probably get annoyed."
"I'm okay with it most days, but tonight I just want to spend time with you," Izuku says, looking
over at their new waiter who's trying to interest another table in a platter of exotic cheeses. He's
failing miserably.
"Yeah." Izuku looks back to Nejire. She's slightly pink in the face and takes a sip of water. "Just
two normal totally-not-heroes out on a… yeah."
"Sure?" Izuku knits his brow, not quite understanding. "Being normal is great sometimes, like
tonight. But I still want to be a top hero one day."
"I think the same," Nejire says. "I want to be big and popular, but only in costume. That's almost
impossible, because, well." She swishes her hair a little and tucks a strand behind her ear. Izuku
feels himself flush. "And you've got the same problem. It makes you think twice about going
through with Nedzu's suggestion."
"I'll probably agree to it," Izuku says.
"Really?"
Izuku shrugs. "I'm already popular; what's one more video?"
"I mean, considering what the video contains, you might want to reconsider. It's totally your
choice, but it's also a really big deal, because, you know." She looks around and leans in. "It's All
Might," she whispers.
"It'll definitely make a big impact," Izuku agrees. "But you guys deserve some recognition too. I
shouldn't be the only one in the spotlight."
"Okay, but what do you want?" Nejire asks. "Do you want to have it out there for all the billions of
people to see?"
Izuku smiles uneasily. "When you put it that way, it feels like a way bigger deal."
"Probably because it is a way bigger deal," Nejire says. She raises her arm and points a finger at
him. "You shouldn't agree to it just so me and the boys get some internet fame."
"You'd do the same for me," Izuku points out. Nejire stills.
"Ugh, you have a point," she grumbles. "But think of what you want, first."
"I want you three to be popular. I know you guys don't need that right now, but we're all aiming for
the top, so getting started early can't hurt." Izuku looks down at his hands. "And if you guys say no,
I'm fine with that too."
"Yeah."
They sit in silence for a moment, but then the waiter comes back and they both realize that they
haven't looked at the menus at all. They both fumble while placing their orders, and Izuku tries to
figure out why the waiter is smiling so smugly. Maybe it's his resting face? It's hard to tell, but
Izuku accepts the glass of grape juice he didn't order, waits until the waiter's back is turned, and
sniffs it. It's not wine, thank god. Izuku knows that the likelihood of someone giving them
expensive wine they didn't want is tiny, but the waiter is just so out there that he feels the need to
play it safe.
When the food arrives, the smell alone is enough to convince Izuku that it's worth the rather high
cost. The breading on the pork is crispy and flavorful, and the meat itself is tender and juicy.
Everything else is good too, and he happily finishes off his plate. Once they're done, they pay and
leave. Izuku grabs his jacket and nods to the two waiters as he walks out, arm in arm with Nejire.
One winks; the other looks at him with his jaw practically on the floor.
"Still up for chocolate?" Nejire asks, looking down the street at a cozy-looking shop with a sign
that reads Central Confectionaries.
"Sure," Izuku says, starting to walk towards it. "You said they make really good fudge?"
"Oh yeah," Nejire says, picking up the pace until they're practically jogging, which is a little
awkward because they're still linked at the elbows. "It's to die for, especially when it's fresh.
Which should be now, since they usually get most of their customers in the evening."
"I'll have to try some, then. You were spot on about the other place."
The chocolate shop is more than just a chocolate shop. There are handmade candies, coffee, and
even a small soft-serve machine behind the counter. Izuku and Nejire walk in and get in a line
that's about five people deep. There's only one person working the counter, but that's fine. They
aren't really in a hurry. They make small talk as they get closer to the front, most of it about school
or work studies. Nejire's hand stays glued to the crook of his arm the whole time, something Izuku
really likes for some odd reason.
They purchase their snacks and head out the door. The tables in the shop are all occupied, and the
seating out back is full. "There's a park a block away from here," Nejire says, digging through her
bag full of goodies. "I'm sure there's a bench open for us to sit at."
"That sounds great!"
The park is quiet but not empty. A few people walk around and a few more sit on benches.
Lampposts dot the paths, lighting up the area in a warm orange. A small water fountain sits in the
middle of everything. Kids toss coins in as parents watch. The sun is just starting to set, the dim
rays bouncing off the pool of rippling liquid to make all sorts of beautiful colors. Izuku and Nejire
sit on a bench facing the fountain and eat their chocolate. It's perfect, except…
"It's kinda cold, isn't it?" Nejire says, rubbing her legs together as she pops a bite of fudge in her
mouth. She shivers a little, and Izuku instinctively moves closer.
"Yeah, I'm glad I grabbed my jacket," Izuku says, tugging on one of the sleeves. "I didn't think that
there would be a breeze."
"Me neither." Nejire scoots closer, trying to warm up by rubbing her arms with her hands. "I
should've worn a sweater or something. And pants, definitely pants."
"Yeah."
"Is that the jacket Mirio got you?" Nejire asks, tugging on one of the zippers.
"For my—our—birthday," Izuku confirms. "I probably wouldn't wear something like this
otherwise."
"Yeah, biker thug isn't really your style." Nejire eats another piece of chocolate. "Though lots of
other people wear leather jackets."
"It's not my style either way," Izuku says. "I like hoodies more."
"Hoodies are warm and therefore great," Nejire agrees. "I wish I was warm right about now."
Izuku looks over at Nejire. Goosebumps line her arms and legs. She's practically curled up in a
ball. She's shivering. He looks at himself. Pants, a scarf, a heavy jacket. Two plus two equals four.
"Do you want my—"
"Yes, please!"
Izuku stands and unzips his jacket. He gently sets his scarf on the bench before pulling the jacket
open. There's a small snap and he freezes. Nothing feels out of place, but… "This shirt is kinda
old," he says, blushing as he slowly pulls the jacket off. "I probably shouldn't have worn it like
Mom said. Does it still look okay?" He tosses Nejire the jacket and spreads his arms before turning
around.
"... Looks A-OK to me," Nejire says softly. Izuku smiles and sits back down beside her as she slips
into his jacket and wraps the scarf around her neck. She must be warm already because her face is
pink. "Will you be okay?" she asks, looking over at him. Or rather the necklace hanging down by
his collar.
"My Quirk can keep me warm, remember?" Izuku flares One for All briefly. His skin glows and his
arms line with red veins. "I'll be perfectly fine."
"Alright," Nejire says, her voice barely a whisper.
"I really like this necklace you got me," Izuku says, playing with the green lighting bolt with his
fingers. "I think I wear it every day, and it, um… it really helps when I have a bad dream."
"I'm happy it helps," Nejire says, her face bright red. Izuku looks at her, worried.
"Are you a bit warm? You're so flushed."
"Fine! I'm just fine!" Nejire declares. "Er, actually, I'm still kinda cold. Can I move closer?"
"Sure!"
Nejire clings to his side, looping an arm around his back and resting her head on his shoulder. She
moves her legs so they rest on the bench. The scarf clashes with her hair, which is messy from all
the moving she did. She's practically swimming in his jacket, the bottom going all the way down
her skirt and the sleeves much too long. The sight makes Izuku feel warm even without One for
All's energy.
The park starts to clear out and the sun dips below the horizon. Stars begin to shine. The fountain
stills. He feels Nejire shift, and then her breath on the side of his face.
"Izuku—"
"Oh my gosh, you're Deku!"
They split apart faster than the eye can see, pushing themselves into the armrests of the bench.
They're both blushing heavily. The girl who said that stands confidently in front of them, her
fanged smile gleaming in the dull light. Twin buns of honey-blonde hair bounce as she sways, her
ragged school uniform moving with them. "I'm a really big fan!" she continues, taking a few steps
towards Izuku. "Can I have a picture?"
"S-sure?" Izuku says, getting up. He does so cautiously. The girl might not be a threat, but the fact
that she's wearing a school uniform at eight at night doesn't make him feel good. "Do you have a
phone or—"
"She can take them!" The girl tosses a beat-up smartphone to Nejire. "Make sure to get my good
side!"
They take what feels like hundreds of pictures. The girl gets in close for all of them.
Uncomfortably close. Her hands touch his chest and stomach, and she practically hangs off of him.
From the other side of the camera, Nejire gradually gets more and more angry. Izuku gets more
and more uneasy. He's definitely not smiling in any of the pictures, and at one point he's tempted to
push her away with his Quirk.
"Alright, that's enough," Nejire orders. She tosses the phone back, but the girl doesn't move away.
"Oh, c'mon," the girl pouts. "It's only been a minute!" And yet it feels like it's been an hour. Izuku
starts to slide away, but the girl sticks to him. He looks at Nejire, silently begging for her to get the
girl away.
"You do know he's gay, right?" Nejire says and the girl freezes. She looks at him for a half-
second and then bolts. Moments later, she's out of sight.
"Thank you," Izuku says, shakily walking back to the bench. His heart is racing—why didn't he
notice that before?"
"I'm sorry for taking so long," Nejire says, sitting down as far away from him as possible. "I
should've stopped after one. Or told her no."
"Maybe, but you still helped." Izuku tries for a smile, but it comes out warbled and uneven. Nejire
looks down at her lap.
"Do you feel safe?"
Izuku thinks for a second. "Yeah," he settles on. "You're with me, and, well…" Green lighting
crackles in his palm.
"Are you mad that I told her you were gay?"
"No. It got her away and, well… Mirio's gay, yeah?"
"Bi with a massive preference for guys," Nejire corrects.
"Either way, gay isn't a bad thing. No harm done, really. Other than…"
"You don't have to talk about it right now."
"Thank you."
"You'd do the same for me. Friends are there for each other, always."
"Yeah."
"Izuku… can I hug you?"
"Yeah, that… that'd really help."
They embrace and get ready to go home. Nejire walks him to the train station. She tries to give him
his jacket back but Izuku lets her keep it for her walk. He takes the scarf back, though, and agrees
to her order to keep an eye out for people and to call her if something happens. When he gets home,
Izuku tells his mother about everything. She gets worried about the girl in the park, but Izuku
promises to talk to Doctor Hanson about it.
He takes the rest of the week off before the funeral. The session with the doctor goes smoothly.
She suggests a few things to deal with the One for All dreams, asks if he's ready for the funeral,
and tells him to practice saying no to people after he tells her about what happened. Thankfully,
there are no lingering issues, but Izuku really doesn't want to deal with something like that ever
again.
When the funeral comes, Izuku's ready. He dresses in black and talks with the parents of the child.
The whole process is small and over quickly, but lots of tears are shed. Everyone thanks him for
saving the other kids, and the parents offer him a picture of the little boy. His name was Hayato,
and Izuku cries for him. The grief is mostly gone after that, something that he finds to be
bittersweet.
Izuku and his mom eat with the Asuis again that night. He helps with making soup and plays with
the kids. It cheers him up a lot, and he starts to smile again. Once they're done eating, everyone
piles in the room. Beru puts on a sappy romance that makes Sami gag and everyone else laugh at
how cliché it is. The movie practically has every trope in the book. Awkward flirting, dinner dates
by candlelight flowers, walking arm in arm, sharing clothes, almost kissing…
The realization hits Izuku like a truck. The whole way home, he stares blankly at the wall of the
train. When they get back to the apartment, Izuku locks himself in his room and slams his face into
his pillow. He screams loudly.
"That was a date!"
He's such an idiot.
Chapter End Notes
Toga will come back again later, unfortunately for Izuku. Nothing god-awful will
happen but some things will probably be uncomfortable. It's just part of her character
and obsessive personality, sadly, and I can't exactly take it away without changing her
way too much.
Izuku's dilemma about Flat and Sparkling water is based off a real thing that happened
to me. I had just gotten my first paycheck ever and decided to treat myself. I went to
the nicest place in town that didn't require reservations—still in my work uniform—
and got a table. Everyone in there looked at me like I was a murderer. The waiter
asked me the sparkling or flat question and I totally blanked. Up until that point the
nicest palace I'd eaten at was olive garden, and I thought that was the ritz. I made a
total ass of myself and the waiter picked for me. I realized two seconds later that
sparking water is bubbly water, which is what I've always called it. No one in my
family has ever called it sparkling water, and for a second I thought that if I got
sparkling, it would be like, more purified for something. Please, don't be an idiot like
me, I beg of you.
I hope you all enjoyed. Cheers!

Love?
Chapter Notes
As of July 17, 2021 this chapter has been edited and reformated by my beta, flauel
"So you're zero for two?"
Nejire nods, her forehead rubbing against the wood of the table. Her hair drags along the ground,
picking up dirt. She can't bring herself to care. "Yeah, and I can't even be mad about it. Well, I can,
just not at him or myself. If that stupid middle schooler hadn't—hadn't assaulted him like that, I
might have had a boyfriend right about now."
"Might," Tamaki says dubiously. "You really think he'd say no?"
"There's always the possibility," Nejire sighs. "As much as I'd like to think he'd say yes, I can't be
sure."
"You'll be alright," Mirio comforts. "You did the right thing by backing off after… that. You'll
have another shot soon, though! You guys are going into the support labs together, right?"
"Yeah, but that's for actual hero stuff," Nejire says. "I don't want to distract him—or myself, really
—from improving the equipment. It'll be nice to be around him, though."
"You've got it bad," Tamaki says in a way that Nejire just knows he's smirking. The nerve of him.
He gets a boyfriend and then he thinks that he can mock her for crushing on Izuku. But then Nejire
takes one look at how happy he is, and what traces of irritation she has leaves. Damn him and his
unhateable face.
"No, I don't," Nejire defends. She knows it's useless, but the way Mirio laughs doesn't make it any
better.
"You gushed about how nice his hands looked for two minutes," Mirio says. "His hands!"
"But they're so strong-looking and veiny! I wanna hold them."
"When you two get together, I'm going to tell him about these talks," Mirio says. "You'll try to stop
me but it won't work, and Izuku will know all about your feelings for his hands."
"You wouldn't!"
"He would," Tamaki says. "He'd start with the hands thing and then talk about how you almost had
a nosebleed watching him play with his necklace."
"You two are the worst," Nejire huffs. "You try watching him talk about how great the gift you got
him is while you're curled up in his jacket! It's almost impossible to keep calm! And why can't
things be like they used to be? Why is it me getting picked on for my crush? It should be you
guys!"
"Karma," Tamaki says simply, and Nejire lets her forehead hit the desk. Again.
"You walked right into that one," Mirio laughs. "No but seriously, ask him and he'll say yes. He's
probably in love with you, even if he doesn't realize it."
"That's totally an Izuku thing," Nejire mumbles. "That oblivious idiot. Why does he have to be so
attractive?"
"Is this what it was like for you to watch us?" Tamaki asks. "Because this is embarrassing."
Mirio kisses his boyfriend on the cheek. "You are on point with the jokes today. Am I rubbing off
on you?"
"Please don't start making out in front of me," Nejire says, looking up to see her friends sitting
much closer to each other than before. "And yeah, it was embarrassing watching you two. Even
Izuku thought so. And it's still a little bit embarrassing when you get all lovey-dovey."
"You should ask him and spare us the embarrassment," Mirio suggests. "It's getting old watching
you two dance around each other." Nejire resists the urge to facepalm.
"I'm waiting for the perfect moment," she says. "I had one already and I'll make another. You'll just
have to suck it up until then."
"I confessed in the middle of an argument," Tamaki says, letting it hang in the air for a moment.
"You're the worst."
"No, he's the best," Mirio disagrees. He laces one of his hands in Tamaki's and pulls the smaller
boy in closer. Awkwardly closer, if you're Nejire.
"Again, don't make out in front of me. I will leave and rat you out to Midnight."
Tamaki flushes pink. "That was one time."
Mirio smiles and kisses him on the neck. "Plus Ultra."
[x]
It's possible that he's wrong. Nedzu drilled it into his head that the only absolutes in life are death
and taxes, and even those have some wiggle room because of Quirks and criminals. So it's totally a
possibility that Nejire isn't interested in him and that their little outing wasn't a date. But looking
back, that possibility is the size of a grain of sand.
With that in mind, Izuku panics because, well, this hasn't happened before. Having real friends and
teachers is still a little bit odd. He knows that everyone in his life cares for him deeply, but a little
bit of his Quirkless life still lingers no matter how much Hound Dog and Doctor Hanson's therapy
helps him. Having someone —anyone— express interest like that seems impossible. But it must be
possible because it's happening. The jacket, the casual touches, the blushing… How did he not see
it before?
"Because you're as thick as a brick," his mother says when he asks. "Just like your father was, that
adorable idiot."
Izuku figures that she's right because his mom's smart like that. But admitting it only makes him
want to slam his head into the wall of his bedroom repeatedly. He nearly does except there's a
picture of Nejire on the wall, and when he sees it, he feels his face turn bright red and settles for
screaming into his pillow like the night before.
Okay. Okay, he understands everything now. The fact that it took so long sucks, but he can make
up for that now with a proper plan of action. How do you ask a girl out? Google has answers, but
they all revolve around being as blunt and up-front as possible. That would probably work, but
every time he thinks about looking Nejire in the eye and confessing—wait, what would he confess?
How does he feel about her? It's probably important that he figures that out first.
He thinks about it on his run and as he works through his morning weight training.
Embarrassingly, he looks up how to know if you're in love. There are way too many results and he
wastes a lot of time combing through them. Most of the articles have the same basic signs. Physical
attraction, prolonged staring, desire to spend more time in their presence, being okay with their
flaws, feeling happy when they're near, wanting the best for them, and desire for physical contact.
He runs home flushed from hairline to toenails, unable to look anyone in the eye. So. He might be
in love? Maybe? His thoughts about her fit that list, but some of them don't feel quite right. Like
yes, he does look at her a lot, but he doesn't really stare. He looks at all of his friends a lot because
they're amazing people in every way. The way he looks at Nejire isn't much different from how he
looks at Mirio. And one of the articles said that if you're in love with someone, you can see your
whole future with them. Izuku doesn't see a clear future for himself, let alone one for him and
Nejire. He can see as far as reaching the top spot and saving lots of people, but that's about it.
Everything else is spot on, though. To an embarrassing extent. Attraction? Yeah, definitely.
Wanting to spend time with them? He wishes he could be with her now. Not caring too much about
her flaws? She has none in his opinion, and even if she does, they're in no way major. Being
happier when they're around? There's no way he could deny that. And he definitely wants to have
more physical contact with her. It sounds creepy when he puts it that way, but it's the truth. He
wants to have more moments like the end of the date. With her curled up at his side, wearing his
jacket…
Okay, so maybe he is in love. What kind of idiot uses the internet as a means to figure out what
their feelings mean? Him, probably, but not today. He's already been enough of an emotionally
tone-deaf fool. He shall be one no longer. At least when it comes to realizing that everything is
way more complicated than he thinks.
Why can't emotions be like math? Sure, math can be a pain, but there's always a definite answer.
There's always at least one correct method, always one right answer, and everything can be figured
out through trial and error. But emotions are weird. People are weird. He's weird. The whole
situation is frustrating and confusing and makes him want to sit down and give differential calculus
a go. At least that would take less effort to figure out than his feelings for Nejire.
He likes her and is attracted to her, at least. Everything beyond that is cloudy and convoluted. And
it doesn't help that he's only had four days to process it.
Izuku shoves all of that to the side the second he steps through the gates of U.A. It'll need to be
unpacked eventually, but now is not the time. He checks in with Aizawa like always, makes sure
that the schedule he has is correct, and heads up to Nedzu's office. He knocks twice and enters,
slinging his backpack off of his shoulders as he does.
"Morning, Midoriya," Nedzu greets from behind his computer. "How was your weekend?"
"Enlightening," Izuku says. He takes a seat on a couch and unzips his backpack.
"I take it the funeral went well, then?" Nedzu asks, hopping down from his chair and grabbing a
sheet of paper from his desk.
"As well as one can go," Izuku says. "It was sad, but I think I've gotten past it. And the rest of
Saturday and all of Sunday were… yeah."
"Ah. Something personal troubling you?" Nedzu gestures to a kettle of tea on the coffee table. "Fix
some if you like."
"Thanks," Izuku says, grabbing the kettle and a nearby mug. "And yeah, it's something personal.
I'd rather not talk about it, if that's alright?"
"It's certainly alright," Nedzu assures. "There's no reason for you to tell me if you don't want to. I'm
not going to force you to tell me every detail of your private life. That'd be illegal. And morally
wrong," he adds as an afterthought.
Izuku chuckles, unsure if he should be nervous. "That's true," he says clumsily. "But I really do
appreciate it. What are we working on today?"
Nedzu hands him the sheet of paper. "Media stuff, mostly. You've yet to cast your vote for the
video; we'll start with that. And then there's a few things you need to decide on for your charity
work. If we have time, I'll start teaching you the basics of computer science and cybersecurity, but
that stuff can easily be pushed aside. Oh, and Aizawa will be talking to you about work studies
later today, so be ready for that."
"Computer science and cybersecurity?" Izuku sets the paper down, seeing that it's nothing more
than a consent waiver to show his face on TV.
"The future number one hero is quite the target for a cyber attack, no?" Nedzu pours his own glass
of tea. "And knowing how to code wouldn't hurt. If you're good enough at it, you might be able to
learn how to hack."
"That's not really my style," Izuku says sheepishly. "I'm more of a physical guy. Quirks, muscles,
that kind of stuff."
"I know, but I'm sure you'll take to it easily enough." Nedzu takes a drink. He sets his mug down
on the table. "Now, about that video…"
"I'm okay with it being released," Izuku says, "but only if my friends are okay with it too."
"Perfect!" Nedzu cheers. "To go through with it, we need unanimous agreement, which we now
have. There'll be some paperwork for you and your mother to sign, and the footage needs to be
edited, but it should go out to the public soon enough. Though maybe we could send it to some
hero agencies early…"
"I'd be okay with that."
"Excellent. That will give you more recognition among potential employers, though I understand
that Aizawa and Hound Dog are very picky of where you're allowed to work."
"Only trusted UA alumni personally approved by them," Izuku remembers. "And they all have to
be small-time heroes without a history of case-solving. There's only ten or so agencies on the list,
all of them focusing on regular daylight patrols."
Nedzu shrugs. "It can't be helped. But the silver lining is that you'll gain an understanding of what
it's like for the average hero, which in turn will show you how our society functions."
"Yeah," Izuku agrees. "And I know a few on the list from my own studying, so it's not like I have
anything against my options. I just wish I could be working with some bigger names."
"All in due time," Nedzu assures. "But right now, we have your charity to discuss."
"Are we ready to start selling?" Izuku asks.
"Yes!" Nedzu says, raising his mug in a salute. "The launch will take place soon enough. But
there's one thing we need to do first."
"What's that?"
"An ad campaign."
Izuku blinks. "I have no idea of how that would work."
"Oh, that's fine. You can leave all the design and placement to Yagi and I." Nedzu walks back to
his desk and hops on top of it.
"All Might is in on this?" Izuku asks.
"He will be," Nedzu says, turning his monitor around. The screen shows a website where people
can purchase billboards and internet ad space. "I've mentioned this to him and he'd be happy to
help. You understand how your personal image should look but not about advertising yourself
outside of simply doing your job."
"Shouldn't I be learning about that, then?"
"Eventually," Nedzu agrees. "But you're quite busy right now, no? Leave the detailed work to me
and Yagi. All you have to do is participate in a photoshoot."
Izuku laughs. "I don't think I qualify as a model, sir."
"Midnight would beg to differ, but your appearance is hardly a factor." Nedzu moves his mouse
around and clicks a few times. Pictures of the t-shirts appear, and Izuku finds himself leaning in
closer to get a better look. They're mostly his designs, though a few have been altered. They all
look amazing. "You made these. The profits will go to places of your choosing. Everyone knows
this. Wouldn't it be weird for the buyers to see that you're not using the products you designed?"
"I guess so."
"Precisely. As such, you, the heroes on the merchandise, and whoever you pick for your work
study will be attending a photoshoot to be used in advertisements."
"Why will my work study supervisor be a part of it?" Izuku asks.
"Extra incentive for them to pick you. Not that you need it." Nedzu takes a swig of tea, chuckling
to himself. "And it'll be another name that people might recognize, which means we'll have more
buyers."
"Got it," Izuku says. "When's this photoshoot?"
"Next week, most likely. You should have some time to get friendly with your work study agency
first. It'll probably be over a weekend, and at a fashion studio."
"A fashion studio?"
"Yes. Your product is fashion, no?" Izuku can't bring himself to disagree. "I called in a favor. The
company will take the pictures and edit them for free."
"That's nice of them."
"It's nice of me to use the favor on something so trivial," Nedzu chuckles. "Oh, the dirt I have on
that family…" He shakes his head. "Never mind that. Computers! What do you know?"
"Nothing, really," Izuku says, watching as Nedzu pulls open a desk drawer and pulls something out
of it. "I know how to do good research online and fact-check, but that's about it."
"Those are good skills," Nedzu praises. "But you'll need more than that." A laptop, sleek and black
and brand new, is placed in front of Izuku. Nedzu opens it up and turns it around so Izuku can see
the screen. It's completely blank. "Now, the basics of coding…"
Practically melt his brain. Even when Nedzu explains and re-explains every concept repeatedly,
the material doesn't want to stick in his brain. The frustration makes it worse. Every failure saps his
energy, and by the time he has to leave for his next lesson, his mind feels like mush. But Nedzu
says it's fine and that not everything will come naturally to him. It doesn't make him feel that much
better, but it's a small comfort.
When Izuku reports to Aizawa, he finds both his homeroom teacher and Midnight standing by the
desk in the corner. Both nurse cups of coffee, though one looks way more tired than the other.
"Good morning?" Izuku says as he walks through the door. "Why are you here, Miss Midnight?"
"What? I can't have a cup of joe with my old classmate?" Midnight swirls her mug of coffee
around, the liquid much darker than the stuff in Aizawa's.
"Not when you're so chipper in the mornings," Aizawa mumbles.
"Oh, hush, you. He's hated mornings since he came out of the womb, I swear," Midnight says,
looking at Izuku. "And to answer your question, kiddo, I'm here to help you with a project!"
"What kind of project?" Izuku asks.
"A job application. Not that you need it." Aizawa chugs down the rest of his coffee, leaving
Midnight free to explain.
"You need to show them hero agencies what you've got," she says, striking a dramatic pose.
"Earlier in the year, you had the Sports Festival to do that, but you've grown so much since then.
Therefore, we'll be making a video of you showing off."
"Can't Aizawa just send over reports from my work study?" Izuku asks. "And I was in the news
like… twice?" he guesses. And he just knows that Aizawa wants to facepalm from the way the
man's eye twitches. To be fair, it is rather embarrassing that he can't remember the number of times
he broke the news.
"Yeah, for basic saves and fast flying," Midnight says. "And it's not that those aren't impressive—
they are, trust me—it's just that no one knows what kind of moves you can pull. Other than your
teachers and friends, obviously."
"What about Aizawa?" Izuku asks again. "Or the All Might video?"
"That won't be released for a while even if Nedzu pushes for it to be finished faster," Aizawa says.
"And nobody really knows who I am. My word wouldn't help."
"Well, one of the options knows," Midnight says, almost teasing. "I'm sure he'd love to take on the
kid for a while."
"No," Aizawa mumbles. "You will not plant that idea in his head. If he's going with him, it's going
to be his own choice. And I won't have anything to do with it."
"What's the big deal?" Midnight asks. "It's not like you two are on bad terms."
Aizawa looks at Midnight flatly. He looks at Izuku. And then he refocuses on Midnight like that
answers everything. Aizawa raises a hand and extends a pair of fingers. "Two words: Problem.
Child."
Midnight nods, understanding. "Fair enough."
"What?" Izuku furrows his brow. "I don't get it."
"It's for the best," Midnight decides, which only confuses him more. "Let's get to work, though,
shall we? Midoriya, you'll need to be in your hero costume for it, so go get changed. We'll be
waiting right here."
His costume isn't intact, which is weird because Izuku was sure that it was fine after the fight with
All Might. But there are small cuts, smudges of ash and dirt, weird-looking stains, and a burn or
two. How he managed to burn his costume when there wasn't any fire in the exercise is beyond
him, but Izuku is forced to mark it for repairs and dons his gym uniform. He has backup costumes,
but only two of them. He'd much rather use them for actual training or a patrol, though there's
almost no chance of them getting damaged from what he's about to do.
As he walks back to classroom 1-A, Izuku finds that the jacket of his gym uniform is a little tight
so he slips it off. When he enters the room, Midnight and Aizawa immediately lead him out. They
head in the direction of the private study rooms but go right past them, all the way into a small,
warehouse-like building marked Video Production.
The inside is brightly lit and empty. There's an expensive-looking camera in one corner and a
cheap-looking director's chair near it. A door to the right of the entrance is propped open and Izuku
can see a bunch of computers and microphones inside. "Eraser, grab a boom mic, would you? And
Izuku, you'll want to stand right in front of that camera." Midnight points to the corner. "Up against
the wall. Sit tight while I grab some lighting."
Izuku nods and walks over. The building is already well lit, but it's not like he knows anything
about how this kind of stuff works. The acoustics don't seem right, either. There's an echo after
every step he takes, and he can hear Midnight provoking Aizawa from all the way across the floor.
"What now?" Izuku asks, watching Aizawa push his hair back and slip on a set of headphones
while a microphone with a long pole attached to the bottom leans against the wall.
"Look at me," Midnight orders, swinging the camera around so it points at him. She's taken the
corner off, and the lens gleams in the glow of the expensive-looking lights.
"Alright," Izuku says, shifting a little. He can see his reflection in the lens. It's a little warped.
"Smile." Izuku does. "Alright, look down a little. Now back up and to the left. Glare at me." Izuku
cocks his head in confusion.
"Wha—"
"Angry, kid. Look angry." Izuku tries his best to glare at the camera. "Lucky bastard," Midnight
says cheerfully. "You don't even need makeup."
"What?" Izuku asks. "I thought I was going to be showing off my super moves."
"You will," Midnight assures. "After we film the intro!"
"This wasn't my idea," Aizawa sighs when Izuku looks over at him. "I was just going to take one of
the handhelds and have you run through an obstacle course and maybe answer a few basic
questions. But then she heard about it in the break room and insisted that—"
"Shut!" Midnight demands as she adjusts something on the camera. "Are we recording audio?"
Aizawa sucks in a breath to steady himself.
"Yes."
"Good. Midoriya, when I give you the thumbs up, say your full name, Quirk, age, and how long
you've been training."
"Alright," Izuku says, nervously watching Aizawa swing the microphone around so it's in front of
him and over his head. He looks back to Midnight who nods and gives him the signal to go. "Um,
hi. I'm Midoriya Izuku and I'm sixteen. My Quirk is called Superpower and um, uh… what else am
I supposed to say?" he asks, giving up.
"How long you've been training for," Midnight says. "Shota, how's his volume?"
"Fine. He just needs to speak more clearly."
"Alright," Midnight says, pressing a button on the side of the camera. "Take one."
"But I thought—"
"The first try is always no good, kid. I wasn't even recording. Try again!"
It takes three tries. It's not bad, but Izuku is sick of saying the same line by the time they're out of
the building. But that's fine. Because now he gets to move.
"Focus on the small stuff," Aizawa says as they make their way to one of the fake cities. Izuku
shifts the camera on his shoulder, using a little bit more of One for All's power to hold it with one
hand.
"Why?"
"Everyone's seen your big moves. Those smashes and flight patterns are great for fights, but the
pros I'm letting you apply to care more about the details." Aizawa holds the door open for him and
Midnight, and they step out into a small plaza.
"Alright," Izuku says. "What counts as small stuff?"
"How you handle your power around civilians and buildings," Aizawa says, walking off in a
random direction.
"You know how to deal a lot of damage, but you'll be working small-time," Midnight explains
further. "The villains will be of the garden variety, not the super kind."
"So I just have to show myself being careful?" Izuku asks.
"Yeah," Aizawa says, stopping at the end of a street. "Careful and smart are what you're aiming
for. Start by running down this street as fast as possible without breaking anything. I don't want to
see any cracked pavement or overturned tables. Got it?"
"Yes, sir," Izuku says as he sets down the camera. "Er, do you want to get everything ready first?"
"Just go for it. I doubt we'll use the first take with her here."
"The woman in question has ears, you know!" Midnight snarks. "I swear you haven't gotten any
less rude since high school."
"I'm gonna get going," Izuku says, backing up a few paces.
Aizawa's eyes flick over to Midnight, who's still delicately setting up the camera. "Good idea."
Digging his feet into the ground, Izuku tastes the cool air. The concrete feels sturdy beneath him,
just like it's supposed to. But he knows full well that it'll crumble with even a small amount of
pressure. Izuku takes a few deep breaths. The first attempt is usually a throwaway. He can work
with that. He needs to get the variables down. It wouldn't do to break a city street just because he
couldn't take a little bit of time to learn. So Izuku tenses, powers One for All up to ten percent, and
kicks off.
He breaks the ground but only in the place he took off from. That's fine. It's only the size of a small
pothole, and Izuku has a new idea to try out.
The second go-around is actually filmed. Izuku makes a show of letting his lightning flare before
he just barely jumps upward. Even at two percent, it's enough for him to climb a few meters before
he activates Float and bursts his way to the other end of the street. The wind he generates pushes a
few tables to the side, but everything else is fine. Midnight has him do it a few more times so she
can get better shots, but they move on quickly.
The next thing they film is Izuku breaching a building. Then it's him shooting his wind blasts at
targets dozens of meters away. And then he does some things with Blackwhip before wrapping up
with a few borderline ridiculous trickshots. Why his potential employers need to see him
backflipping off of a building before jerking to the side to shoot wind down a random alley is
beyond him. Or at least the backflip part is. Aizawa doesn't seem to get it either, but he also claims
that there's one more thing to do.
"The human body is fragile. Heroes like you need to show that they can save people much less
durable than them without resorting to brute force."
"That's code for 'I'm going to pitch myself off the side of a building and you're going to catch me,'"
Midnight stage-whispers.
"What?" Izuku exclaims. "You can't do that! What if I fail?"
"You won't. You've done this plenty of times with dummies." Aizawa looks around at the tall
buildings. He points to one. "That's about the right height."
"But this is different. It's pointless to put yourself in danger when we can get a dummy."
"That takes too long. I want to nap."
Izuku looks to Midnight, at a loss for words. She laughs.
"Nothing gets between him and a nap, kid. You'll do fine. And if it hits the fan, he's got his scarf."
She leans against the camera. "Just do what you've been taught to do."
"But it's not safe," Izuku says.
"Midoriya, I have complete faith in your abilities. You can do this with a dummy. You can do this
in a controlled environment. You can do this in the field. Now fly me up there so we can get this
over with."
Izuku complies, though a pit forms in his stomach. They really should be doing this with a dummy.
Or anything else so long as it isn't a person. But Aizawa casually stands on the ledge of the
building, looking down like there isn't a twenty-meter drop. "Ready?" he asks.
"Yeah."
And then Aizawa steps right off like he's going for an evening stroll. It would be cool to watch if
the man wasn't in real, actual mortal peril.
Sparing no time, Izuku dives after him, casting two whips past the falling body and willing them to
spread. They branch off, entangling faster than he can keep track of. Aizawa makes contact with
the newly made net and begins to slow his fall. If Izuku were to just grab him, there'd be a massive
risk of injury because of the sudden and extreme change in direction. It takes a few seconds but
Aizawa does eventually slow completely, and Izuku flies them down as fast as possible.
"Bravo! Bravo!" Midnight cheers as they land. Izuku releases Aizawa and awkwardly waves to the
camera. "I thought I was at the circus, that was so perfect! If this hero thing doesn't work out for
you, Midoriya, you'd have more than a few job options out there."
"Thanks? I think?" Izuku scratches the back of his neck. "But I want to save lives, so…"
"I gotcha." Midnight puts a cap on the lens of the camera. "But that really was spectacular. I know
some people that would be jealous of your skills."
"Thanks," Izuku says. He feels a tap on his shoulder and turns to see Aizawa who has his hair in a
bunch of weird angles from the wind. It's hard to take him seriously when he looks like he just
came out of a tornado.
"Are you alright?" he asks.
"Yes, sir. But I'd rather not do that again."
"It was a little extreme, but you pulled it off." Aizawa checks his watch. "You're working on your
costume today, right?"
"Yes." With Nejire. Who he maybe, maybe doesn't love. His stomach does a flip.
"You'd better get going, then. You don't have much time."
He nearly faints when he sees her, and not in a good way. Not that there is a good way to faint. His
sudden cognitive impairment is entirely because he can't focus with all of the thoughts running
around in his head. Just seeing her smile reminds him of their night at the movies, which in turn
makes him remember that she tried to kiss him on the cheek that night, which reminds him that she
tried to kiss him for real less than five days ago.
"Um, Izuku, are you alright?" Nejire asks. She leans on the design table in front of them and
presses a hand on his forehead. Izuku can feel his skin flush even more which should be
impossible.
"Yeah," he squeaks. He doesn't normally have voice cracks but today's the day for them,
apparently.
"You look a little hot," Nejire says. And then she freezes and blushes about as much as him which
is an accomplishment.
Izuku forces a laugh through his embarrassment because he remembers that particular incident
from the date too. "We should get to work," he says, voice shaking a little.
"Yes! Work. Uh, um… what are we here for again?" Nejire looks at the papers in front of them
which are mostly sketches of welding helmets and protective eyewear.
"Goggles," Izuku says. "So our eyes don't get hurt the next time we do a big attack like
Wednesday."
"Ah. Right." Nejire pushes some papers around until she finds a sketch of Izuku's goggles. "These
already have some kind of brightness protection in them, right?" she asks, pointing to a note on the
sketch.
"Yeah, but it's roughly equivalent to a set of polarized sunglasses." Izuku reaches for his backpack
and starts to dig through. He pulls out his goggles and hands them to her. "It's okay for glare from
snow and bright days, but it's not good enough for what we're capable of doing."
Nejire gently taps the lens with her nail. "Huh. Can I try them on?"
"Sure."
She slips them over her head and adjusts them so they're not about to slip off of her face. Even
then, they're still a little too wide for her, but she doesn't seem to mind. "I can see how they're not
good enough," Nejire says, gazing around the room. "How do we fix it?"
"There's really only one good way," Izuku says, getting up and walking over to the opposite side of
the room where a small welding machine sits. Nejire follows and looks curiously at the helmet
hung by the station. Izuku turns the machine on and grabs a small piece of aluminum. "I'm not very
good at this, so you might want to step back a little. And close that curtain."
Izuku puts the helmet on and leans over the station. He waits until he hears Nejire take a few steps
back and for the curtain to close. "Don't look directly at the light," he warns. And then the light
sparks. Once he's done, Izuku shuts off the machine, pulls the curtain open, and points to the small
line he welded into the aluminum.
"That was really bright," Nejire says, looking at the still-glowing metal from behind him.
"Brighter than the sun," Izuku says, voice muffled by the helmet. "If I was going for longer, I'd put
a jacket on, otherwise I'd get a sunburn. Welder burn? Never mind." Izuku lightly taps the front of
the helmet. "Hold up some fingers." Nejire does. "Two."
"How did you know that," Nejire asks, looking from him to the welding machine. "You just looked
at something brighter than the sun."
"I don't know how it works, but the lens automatically switches to something dark enough to
protect my eyes." Izuku takes off the helmet and shakes his head so his hair isn't messed up. "I was
thinking that, for you, we could make something like ski goggles. The lens has to be big enough,
and the frame needs to be sturdy."
"Hmm. That could work with my costume." Nejire plucks the helmet from his hands and puts it on.
"But my headband would get in the way."
"You could wear them around your neck most of the time," Izuku says. "That's what I do. Or you
could wear the goggles all the time and have your horns be a part of them."
"I'm not so sure." Nejire takes the helmet off. Her hair is a total mess. Izuku feels his heart rate
speed up.
"There's no reason to rush. We can make a few designs and work through them all. It's not like
we're on a time crunch."
"Yeah. That sounds nice."
They work until Power Loader kicks them out. They walk to the train station under the stars. Right
before Izuku has to get on his train home, Nejire stands on her tiptoes and pecks him on the cheek.
His dopey smile lasts the entire train ride back. Up until his mother opens her mouth.
"Is that lipgloss?"
It's only after a half-hour of laughter from his mother and red-faced denial from Izuku that he
remembers that Nejire doesn't wear lipgloss.
Chapter End Notes
My mother pulled that same thing on me. It was hilarious.

Next one will have contact with his work-study agency and maybe the photoshoot.
We'll have a few chill chapters but I'll ramp the tension back up soon. I have plans,
plans that make me laugh in a slightly evil manner. If you're desperately waiting for
his second year to start, you just gotta be patient. I need some things to happen first,
but when the time comes I plan to deliver. Cheers!
PS I cross posted this to FFN so if you see it there it's legit as long as it has my name
and profile pic on it. Edit: Some of you seem to think that the lipgloss thing means that
there was an imposter. There wasn't. That last bit was Mama Midoriya being funny.
The Small Things
Chapter Notes
As of July 23, 2021 this chapter has been edited and reformated by my beta, flauel.
For the third time, Izuku wakes up as the subject of a viral tweet. Or is it the fourth? Maybe the
fifth? Oh god, he's losing track of how many times this has happened. That has to be a bad thing.
Should he switch to being an underground pro? Aizawa seems happy enough and he's not on
Twitter. Maybe his happiness actually comes from his lack of social media. It must be nice to be a
nobody, especially because it means your phone isn't bombarded with Twitter notifications even
though he disabled them.
Izuku swipes away at his phone screen with a blank face and a monotone mind. The initial shock
wore off in a split second, because he's used to it now, something funny in a cosmic sort of way but
mostly frustrating. He'd like to go more than a few weeks without dealing with all the PR and
media side of heroics. Not that it'll happen anytime soon if his track record is an accurate
representation of what his future will be like.
He doesn't even realize why he's gone viral until he opens Twitter, the action itself comparable to
that myth about Pandora's box because his phone lags for a solid minute. And then he sees a little
red 99+ at the bottom of his screen, and he just knows that if he tries to clear everything at once,
his phone will crash.
It's the All Might video. He pieces it together from all the tweets he's sifting through, but he gets
the complete picture from his mentions. Someone in the crowd leaked the video. Multiple people
did, actually, since there are, like, ten different unique recordings all from different angles. What's
nice is that there's no audio from the actual fights in them, and the video quality is bad all around,
but that doesn't stop people from talking about it.
Him kicking All Might in the crotch has been made into a gif. So has All Might's Oregon Smash.
Low-quality gifs, but they're all over the place, being used as reaction images with a few hashtags
each. The raw videos have thousands of views and likes, and #UAvAllMight is trending in five
countries.
Izuku thanks his past self for turning his direct messages off when he starts to look at his old
tweets, which have all been hit with another round of replies. A lot of people think the whole
situation is funny. Others praise him for being such a strong fighter. Most call him an idiot for
kicking All Might in the balls, which is totally fair. He doesn't directly reply to anything, but he
does make a quick tweet confirming that it's him and thanking All Might for the privilege of
fighting him. Then he goes about his day, wearing a beanie, a surgical mask, and sunglasses.
He looks like an idiot but no one recognizes him. It's a fair trade-off in his eyes. He does the same
on the train to school, and doesn't wear his uniform for even more of a chance to avoid
confrontation. That also works, probably because he looks like some kind of criminal. But he's
perfectly happy dealing with dirty looks if it means that no one will bother him.
When he gets to school, Aizawa looks tired, disgruntled, and caffeine-deprived. The man doesn't
have to say anything for Izuku to know that he's known about the leaks for hours.
"I'm not mad at you for being popular," Aizawa says, lying on the floor. He's wrapped up in his
sleeping bag again, and the wastebasket is full of jelly packets. "That was always going to happen.
I'm just annoyed that people always seem to choose you in particular to obsess over. Teenagers
shouldn't have this much limelight. It's bad for you."
Izuku smiles and fiddles with the straps of his backpack. "I can't help it," he says sheepishly. "Or
maybe I can? I just want to be the best hero, and that means I'll have to be popular. Maybe I could
lie low until I graduate?"
Aizawa shakes his head which makes him look like a wiggling caterpillar. "Keep doing what you're
doing; just don't let it get to your head. Have you decided on an agency yet?"
"No, but I've narrowed them down," Izuku says. "I'll go with one of three options. I have to pick by
the end of the day, right?"
"If you want to be back in the field soon, yes." Aizawa unzips his bag and stands. "What kind of
agencies have you been looking at?"
"Combat," Izuku says. "Well, none of the options were explicitly combat-oriented, but the ones I'm
thinking about do a lot of villain catching."
"Don't feel like rescuing, huh?"
"Rescue heroes are great, but, uh… I want to fight," Izuku says. "I've been stuck here sparring with
the same people, coming up with moves and ideas, and learning a lot about different Quicks and
styles, but I haven't had the chance to test them out. Not against real villains or in real situations. I
want to make sure everything I've been working on has been worth the time."
Aizawa nods. "Good thinking. Come see me at the end of the day with your choice. Try not to
break the internet again this month, understand?"
Izuku flushes. "Yes, sir."
The day passes by easily enough. His computer lesson with Nedzu is the only real challenge, but
he's making steady—if slow—progress, so it's not awful. His friends talk about the video leaks and
whether or not they'll get recognized on patrol. Everyone agrees that it'll probably happen at some
point, and Tamaki mumbles about a costume change. It's half-hearted, though. He's gotten a little
better with people and can even hold eye contact with a stranger for more than a half-second. Nejire
says it's because he has a boyfriend. Mirio agrees and suspiciously looks back and forth between
her and Izuku. They both lean away from each other and Mirio laughs.
They ask about his work study. He tells them about his list and gets a few suggestions, but for the
most part they tell him to pick for himself. Once the day wraps up, Izuku has made his choice. He
tells Aizawa, who apparently has the hero's number. And the next day, he boards the train, all the
way to Hosu city and the office building of Team Idaten.
[x]
It's quite troubling keeping track of two power-hungry children. Troubling, but not impossible.
Both of them tend to work more than they rest and possess the limitless hunger for power that
many young men before them have shared. Both strive for goals given to them by their masters.
And both will die soon.
From his perspective, anyway. All for One is old. Some have called him ancient, and those who
did were laughed out of the room. They were later killed, too, but that's beside the point. The
Andes Mountains are ancient. The great pyramids are ancient. All for One is simply old, and with
that age comes a different perspective on time. Ten years—the maximum lifespan of both his and
All Might's successors—is not a long time. It will pass in the blink of an eye and All for One will
live on, conquering all there is to conquer. He just has to make sure neither boy oversteps their
bounds.
Neither have. Yet. Tomura is pushing it, trying to raise an army off in the jungles of South
America. He's grown stronger but only enough to keep him alive. No one will listen to him for a
while, and he's a far cry from being a king in any sense of the word. Midoriya Izuku, however, is
growing just as swiftly as his master before him. It's impressive, and he would be worrying, but All
for One had plans.
"Jin," he says, resting in his chair as plastic and metal do the work of his dying organs. "Come
here."
His voice carries through the facility, aided by several Quirks. They don't strain his body as badly
when he's attached to the machines, but his vocal cords throb and his forehead pulses in pain. The
doctor has been working to heal him or at least take more of the strain off of his body, but the
technology simply isn't there yet. But Double is.
"Sensei, sir!" Twice practically kicks the door of his office down, standing at mock attention
before ceremoniously slumping down like he'd woken up a few moments ago. "What do you
want?" he says, voice changing to something more rough and monotone. "I was resting."
"Good. Your body has limits, more so than the average person due to your… predicament."
Twice looks away from him and stiffens. The man is so broken, or perhaps split would be a better
word. Multiple personalities, a lack of self-worth, and a fear of death so strong he won't even touch
a hot frying pan. But All for One likes that. He's always taken in the broken, the worthless, the
hated, the oppressed.
Give a starving wild horse food, water, and freedom, and it will come back to you. Take that same
horse and force it to plow your fields, and it will fight to break free for the rest of its life. Twice
can leave at any time, but he won't. He has nowhere else to go and has no one who will care about
him in the slightest. He also thinks his life is worthless but at the same time doesn't want to be a
waste of space. He'll stay here, happily. The fact that All for One withholds the fact that he's not a
clone has no bearing on that at all.
"If you care so much about my health then let me sleep, you potato-faced fuck!" Twice slams his
hands over his mouth. "I'm so sorry, Sensei! It won't happen again! I just can't—"
"It's quite alright, young man." All for One raises a hand to calm Twice. "There's no need to hide
your true self from me."
"Thank you, sir, you smooth-talking dick."
"Yes, yes," All for One muses, paying no mind to the way Twice flips personalities mid-sentence.
"Has Doctor Ujiko been treating you well?"
"No, he's fucking creepy!" Twice crosses his arms. "But he does respect me more than my old
boss."
"Good. I'd hate to fire him for mistreating you." All for One laces his fingers. Back in his prime,
he'd often smoke or drink while talking to his underlings, but now that'd kill him. The lack of
something to hold is annoying but not unbearable. "But he's not much for conversation, is he?"
"Not unless it's about those Nomu things. Or Quirks. Or weird blood-and-guts type stuff. He sucks
at talking about anything normal," Twice decides. "But he gets really happy whenever one of the
clones holds up for a while!"
"I'm sure he does," All for One chuckles. "Would you like someone else to talk to?"
"Huh?" Twice scratches his head. "Maybe? But why?"
"Talking to two people all day is hardly fun," All for One begins. "I know you get out a little, but
it's not the same. You don't have any friends. I'm an old man who talks like an old bag of wind.
And the doctor… Well, he's the doctor."
"You're not that old, Sensei. Old as dirt, you are!" Twice mulls over the answer for a second.
"Alright, but where would you get someone willing to be friends with a sack of shit like me? Are
you going to bring back that weird boy the doctor hates?"
"Hardly," All for One says. "Tomura will have to complete his punishment before he's allowed
back. But to answer your question, you'd find that friend."
"I don't think that's possible."
"It is with my guidance. I've already picked out someone perfect for you."
"Really?" All for One smirks at the hope in Twice's voice.
"Yes. And all you have to do is bring her here."
Twice blinks, which would usually be hidden by the mask, but All for One hasn't needed to see in
years. "Why would I bring my friend here? No offense—I mean full offense—but this place is like
my job. A really good job, though! I don't actually think that. Yes, I do!"
"Because your friend will want to work for me as well."
"Why the hell would I want to drag someone in just so they could work for you?" Twice stands tall
and confident. It's ruined by the way his knees shake. Clearly, there's an internal struggle. His
gruffer sides tend to take the reins when he's upset, though the more docile and social personalities
are hardly pushovers.
"Our goals will align is why," All for One says calmly. "You work for me because I keep you safe
and offer you a good life in the future. She'll work for me because I can help her get what she
wants."
"And what's that?"
"That boy I want dead," All for One says. "She's obsessed with him. I intend to help her get him
for herself."
"Fine. That's fucked up. I'll do it."
"Thank you, Jin. I'll have the doctor help you prepare later in the week. In the meantime, enjoy
your rest."
Twice leaves with a salute and a middle finger raised to him at the same time. All for One relaxes
in his chair. Another plan is in motion. The risk is small, but if he goes about it correctly, the
reward will be immense.
"Which one are you sending him after, Lord?" The doctor's voice crackles out of the small speaker
on his right armrest. All for One sighs and props his chin on the heel of his palm.
"Gen five, subject eight," he says. "Was I that obvious?"
"You didn't mention their Quirk," the doctor says bluntly. "Or their name. That means you're trying
to bring one of them in."
"I'd think that you'd have more interest in the projects I had before we started working together,
Doctor." All for One spreads his hands even though no one can see him. "You told me you did
extensive research into my life before agreeing to work for me. Where's the fire in your belly?"
"Gone, like that Tomura boy should be." All for One barks out a laugh. "I'm old and wise now, sir.
You are too. We should both be able to see how poorly planned your ideas were back then."
"Well put, Doctor." All for One strokes his bare chin. "But she'll be quite interesting whether or not
she works out, no?"
"That depends on what you're trying to do with her. I highly doubt you need another runner,
especially one you intend to reward with Midoriya Izuku's Quirkless body once we're done with
him."
"We need a backup," All for One explains. On the other end of the line, the doctor sputters in
shock. All for One continues, "Tomura could fail. He could succeed. I do not like to gamble with
fair dice, so I shall load them in my favor. We'll bring another one in, just in case. She'll make for a
good successor too. She has the body and Quirk for it already."
"But my lord, you already have a solid plan! Preparations have been made that cannot be undone.
And the whole point of Tomura is to break All Might's will."
"All Might will be as good as dead once Nomu enter mass production," All for One says. "Tomura
will be nothing but a one-liner then. It's not worth risking everything on him. It's best to play it
safe, no?"
"And the subject's family line makes her a good choice as well," the doctor finishes with a sigh.
"My lord, how many subjects are you keeping track of?"
"A handful," All for One says, waving the doctor off. "Most that you don't care about are useless
and uninteresting as you say, but a few… Well, I have to settle my morbid curiosity somehow."
[x]
Hosu is kind of dirty. It's an industrial city, so it makes sense, but Izuku wasn't expecting it to be as
bad as it is. The train he's on is rickety and old, the speakers play muffled and static sounds, and
the doors screech every time they open or close. A lot of the buildings he can see from his window
are drab and graffitied. Grey cinder blocks, hundred-year-old brick, and neon street art are all
common. There are more heroes out than average, too, even though it's ten in the morning, a dead
time for villain activity.
The people are great, though. No one bothers him, but most politely nod their heads when he walks
by. A few people, mostly adults with expensive-looking clothing, watch everyone else with shifty
eyes and their hands tucked deep into their pockets. Izuku tries to ignore them, but he can't. One for
All hums under his skin, on edge. He's been shot once already, and he knows what people can do
with weapons if they feel like it. He can't help but watch those who are obviously armed with a
critical eye.
When he finally gets off the train, Izuku hurries over to the agency. The closer he gets to it, the
fewer people there are. It's weird. He'd always thought that people would want to be near a hero
agency, but for some reason people avoid it like the plague. Or at least the average Hosu resident
does. The more wealthy can be seen sitting at restaurants nearby or shopping in the various shops.
Maybe it's a money thing rather than a crime thing. People keeping away from where they don't fit
in makes more sense than most of the people in Hosu being potential criminals.
There is one homeless-looking person who sits right outside the agency, leaning against the wall
with a large pair of beat-up headphones on and an easy smile. His coat is stained with grease, and
his ginger hair spills out of his beanie. When Izuku walks by, the man gently taps him on the
shoulder three times.
"Hey, sport," the man says. His voice is aged and Izuku catches a faint whiff of alcohol on his
breath. "Why don't ya thumb a couple yen for me? It's almost lunchtime!"
Seeing nothing wrong with it, Izuku sets down his costume case. He looks around to make sure no
one is close enough to be a threat and pulls out his wallet. He hands over a few bills. "Here. Um…
good luck finding a good meal?" Izuku says, picking his case back up.
"Heh, I don't need luck for that," the man says, like it's a joke. "But good day to you, kid. Tell
Tensei I say hi."
Izuku awkwardly walks into the agency after that, unfamiliar with how to deal with people like
that. The man seemed nice enough and Izuku's fine with handing a little money out, but the whole
exchange felt foreign. Probably because there are no homeless people around the apartment. Or on
their side of the city.
The bell on the door rings when he opens it, and the secretary at the counter looks up. Well, she at
least acts like a secretary. She has a phone pressed to the side of her face with one shoulder as she
types away at a keyboard, and there's a tall, steaming mug on the counter. But she's dressed in a
brightly colored hero costume. Not thinking much of it, Izuku walks up and stands in front of the
counter, waiting patiently for her call to end.
He looks around the room and sees another hero. He's a man of about thirty, and his costume is
robot-themed with steel grey armor and gears decorating the surface. He's passed out in a waiting
chair holding a paperback. Izuku politely looks away from him.
"Alright, what's your name?" the woman behind the counter asks as she sets her phone down.
"Midoriya Izuku," he says, holding up his U.A student ID. "I'm here to talk to Ingenium about a
work study."
"Alright, cool." The woman hits a button on her computer, and the printer behind her turns on.
"Was there a redheaded man outside when you walked in?" she asks.
"Er… yeah?"
"Did he ask you for money?" Izuku nods and the woman sighs. "Hopper!" she yells. The robot hero
jerks awake, causing his novel to launch across the room. He swears loudly.
"What do you want?"
"Go out there and give Xiu one of these," the woman says, holding out a sheet of paper that reads
Job Application on the heading. The man stumbles over, still half-asleep, and takes the paper.
"Oh, he ain't hurting anybody," he says, looking at it. "Let him mooch."
"He's deterring clients," the woman says sternly.
The man snorts. "Anyone who really needs help won't care. No harm's being done."
"I get paid on commission," the woman says.
"Yeah?" The man starts to back away, waving the application at her face. "And whose choice was
that? Iida didn't force it on you." He backs out of the door before anyone can respond, and Izuku
watches as he casually hands the homeless man the application. They high-five and laugh. Izuku
looks back at the counter.
"Um, is that normal?" he asks.
"Yep," the woman says, reaching back to grab a sheet of paper off of the printer. "Xiu likes it here
because we're nice and give him things. He even sleeps in the break room sometimes. But he
doesn't want to work and is happy with being homeless, so it starts to get old. I scare him away
with job offers every now and then."
"Oh." Izuku shifts his feet a little, unsure of how to respond. "Okay."
"Don't think too much about it," she advises. "Anyway, you can head up to the boss. Down that
hall, there's an elevator. Go to the top floor. His office is the first one on the right. He's in there
right now."
Izuku thanks the woman and leaves. The elevator and hallway are empty, and he assumes that most
of the heroes are out on patrol. He's proven right when he walks by a chart showing who's
patrolling where. It shows that there are only three heroes in the building. The rest are either at a
police station or out on the streets, which is weird. When he was with Hawks for his internship,
there were always a handful of sidekicks in the agency. He'll have to ask Ingenium about it later.
When he reaches the top floor, Izuku is met with the sight of a messy hallway. Overfilled trash bins
line the walls, and most of the doors look like they've been slammed open in a hurry. But
Ingenium's is closed. It's clearly marked too, with a gold plaque. Izuku knocks on it a few times and
takes a step back.
"Coming!" a voice says. Izuku hears heavy footsteps come through the door which is soon opened.
"Nice to meet you, Deku. I'm the head of Team Idaten, Iida Tensei."
"Thank you for accepting my offer," Izuku says, accepting his hand to shake.
"No, thank you for applying," Ingenium says with a smile. He releases Izuku's hand and steps
back, motioning for him to step inside. Izuku does.
"It's been a while since we've had a work study hero here," Ingenium says as he pulls out his desk
chair. "I would've accepted you even if you were at the bottom of your class."
"Oh," Izuku says, sitting down on the other side of the desk. "Why?"
"It boosts morale," Ingenium explains. "Everyone likes having someone younger around to help out
or haze. At least at this agency, we do. And the fact that you're one of Shota's helps a lot, too."
"Actually, how do you know Mr. Aizawa?" Izuku asks. "I didn't know that you two were friends
when I told him my offer. I was really surprised when he started texting you right in front of me."
Ingenium chuckles. "'Mr. Aizawa.' If he heard that back in school, he'd probably have had a heart
attack." The man happily takes one of the pictures on his desk and flips it around. Inside the frame,
there's an old, slightly faded candid. It shows four teenagers, one female and the rest male, all
squished together on a couch. The picture was taken from a weird angle, so it takes a second for
him to realize who it is. That, and, well...
"Eraserhead had a mullet!?" Ingenium laughs as Izuku tries to piece his world back together. "And
—and, is he wearing an eyebrow ring? Midnight wore chokers? Is that Present Mic with an
undercut!?"
Ingenium turns the frame back around, still laughing. "Yeah, we were cringe-y high schoolers back
in the day. I know for a fact that Shota has one of me with a bowl cut and a pocket protector from
the time we all tried to study."
"It's just. Aizawa. With a mullet. And he looks happy with the fact that he had a mullet!"
"Don't tell him I told you this, but he thought it'd get him a girlfriend."
"No."
"Yes. Nemuri and I fed him that lie all of freshman year. When he found out we were messing with
him, he almost got a buzz cut." Ingenium leans back in his chair, a faraway and happy look in his
eyes. "God, we were all so dumb back then. And so were our fashion choices. Midnight seriously
considered doing that ear piercing thing where they stretch your lobes with those big rings and was
only talked out of it by my mom. Mic wore band shirts under his uniform and during gym class. He
also got his belly button pierced senior year because he lost a bet. And Eraser, well…" He runs his
hands down the back of his head like he's stroking hair.
"My whole world has been turned upside down," Izuku says. "It's just… how could my teachers
have been that stupid?"
"Your students will say the same thing about you in twenty years," Ingenium says, and Izuku
makes a sour face. "Anyway, as much fun as it would be telling you all of our embarrassing stories
from high school, we've gotta get to work."
Izuku straightens. "Yes, sir."
"Hey, ease up a little." Ingenium stands and begins to head for the door. "We're heroes, not
soldiers. C'mon, let's go get changed."
"Are you going to test my skills?" Izuku asks as he follows the man down the hall.
"Nope, we're going right on patrol." Ingenium opens a door marked Changing Room.
"But don't you want to know how strong I am?"
Ingenium chuckles. "Shota wouldn't send me anyone who wasn't up to his standards. I've done my
own reading on you, too. And I'm a big believer in learning on the job."
Izuku nods and rushes to change. His costume is on in a flash, fresh and clean from the wash and
perfectly fitting since he got re-measured a few days ago. He double-checks all of his accessories
and sends his friends and his mom a quick text before pulling on the gloves and stepping back
outside. Ingenium is waiting for him, armor on but with his helmet held in the crook of his arm.
"Ready?" Izuku nods and activates One for All.
"Ready."
"Good," Ingenium says, the engines in his arms roaring to life. "Because I'm not going to slow
down for you. Understand?"
"Yes," Izuku says. "Um, are we going to go down the elevator, or…"
Ingenium smirks and puts on his helmet. He taps a button on his wrist and at the end of the hall,
the wall opens up like a garage door. "Heroes are too cool for elevators, kid. We're jumping."
Ingenium, Izuku quickly discovers, lives by the motto 'Punch with your legs, jump with your arms.'
Or maybe 'Do everything with your arms' suits him better, because the man certainly does just
about everything with them. Every time he needs to climb high, he does a flip, lands on his palms,
and pushes up with his arms. Whenever he needs to move faster, a cloud of exhaust comes out of
the pipes in his arms, followed by a burst of blue flame, and suddenly his white armor is a streak in
the midday sun. It's impressive what years and years of innovation can lead to, and Izuku is in awe
of it, even if he can move faster and pull off better moves than Ingenium.
"Stop here!" Ingenium orders, skidding on top of a flat-roofed building. Izuku does the same,
careful to not leave marks or scratches in the concrete. He follows Ingenium to the edge. "Look
down," the man says, "and tell me what you see."
"People," Izuku says, watching a man in a cheap-looking suit cross the street. "Businesses, shops, a
bus station, and I think that's a stray dog?"
"It is. There's quite a few of them in Hosu. It's not the best place, but that's why I picked it."
Ingenium takes off his helmet. There must be some kind of cooling mechanism in his armor
because he's barely sweating.
"You moved the agency from Tokyo when you inherited it, right?" Izuku says.
"Yep. Tokyo's got plenty of heroes. Hosu doesn't have enough. I figured I'd be of more use here,
you know?" Ingenium sets his helmet on the roof. He points at the street below. "Look closer. Do
you see what I see?"
"Maybe?" Izuku squints, trying to get a sharper look. "I just see a normal street with normal people.
I guess it's a little unclean, but that's not important. Right?"
"Some people use cleanliness as a means to describe how safe a city is," Ingenium says, "but no,
it's not important right now. Look at that woman. The one in the fast-food uniform. How does she
look?"
"Nervous," Izuku says, looking at the person Ingenium is pointing to. "She carries her purse close
and she's looking all around her."
"Good. You're an All Might fan, right?"
"My friends would call that an understatement."

Ingenium chuckles. "Alright, so you are. You must know what he does for all of us, right?"
"Yeah."
"I figured. Sho says you're bright, so I shouldn't have to explain how important and amazing he is.
But he's not omnipotent, and he's not omniscient either." Izuku looks over to see that Ingenium isn't
as happy as he was earlier. He's still smiling, but it's not nearly as bright. "All Might makes people
feel safe from big villain attacks everywhere. But subconsciously, we all know he can't be
everywhere. He'll come running if there's a big attack, but for a mugging? A routine break-in?
Whatever that woman is scared of? He can't stop them. Maybe some, but definitely not all.
Especially in places like this, where crime is rampant and those kidnappings only just ended.
People don't feel safe. They don't smile. We need to fix that."
"We're patrolling at the street level, then," Izuku says. "Aizawa and I stuck to the roofs on my last
work study, but it shouldn't be too different, right?"
"Maybe, maybe not." Ingenium grabs his helmet and slips it back on. "You're a good kid and a
good hero. It should be fine. Just remember to smile. If we're at ease, the people are at ease. If the
people are at ease, they feel safe. If they feel safe, they'll smile and be happy. That, Deku, is why
we're heroes."
Chapter End Notes
Forgive me if Tensi is terribly out of character. I barley know anything about him
other than what Iida says in the manga. I figured he's just a really genuine guy in the
game to help people. And also a bit of a troll because he's an older brother.
Aizawa and all the other teachers used to be dumb meme-y teenagers and you can't
convince me otherwise. As far as I'm concerned, Mic wore MCR shirts to school and
Midnight had a goth phase.
Shit will start ramping up romance and plot wise soon. No spoilers, obviously, but it
should be fun. Cheers!
Back in the Saddle
Chapter Notes
As of August 6, 2021 this chapter has been edited and reformated by my beta, flauel.
"Good morning, Tensei!"
"Morning! Though I think it's closer to the afternoon now."
"Really? Wow. Day's going by so fast. Have you had any action today?"
"Not yet, but maybe soon. I wanna see this guy in action!"
Ingenium gently elbows Izuku in the arm, and Izuku steps forward so the street vendor can see him.
"Good afternoon, sir!" he says, giving his best smile.
"Afternoon, young man!" the vendor says, gesturing to the menu on the front of his cart. "Care to
buy anything from me?"
"If I get a stain on my costume, the people that clean it won't be happy," Izuku denies. "Thank you,
though!"
"Ah, no problem." The man gives Izuku a quick once-over. "Say, did you lose bits of your suit in
the wash? You're all mismatched."
"Nope, that's just how I like it," Izuku says. "And it's for combat stuff, too."
"Huh." The man looks to Ingenium, unbothered by the helmet. "Kids these days; they don't make a
lick of sense."
"Careful now," Ingenium chuckles. "You were the same back in your day."
"Pfft. 'My day.' I'm older than old. As far as I'm concerned, I was never young." The man leans
back in his chair, arms crossed over his stained shirt. Izuku can smell the food—which is fried
octopus—and it makes him feel the urge to buy a serving. Other people must feel the same because
a line starts to form behind him and Ingenium.
"Well, old-timer," Ingenium says, tipping his head a little, "we'd best get a move on. I'd hate to
keep you away from profits."
"Good idea," the vendor says, standing up and opening his cart. The smell, which is absolutely
amazing, grows stronger, and Izuku subconsciously reaches for his wallet. "You two stop by when
you're done, though. It won't be fresh but it'll definitely be good!"
"Alright, we'll see about that."
They continue down the street. Izuku sneaks glances behind them at the vendor who's happily
serving up mountains of fried octopus.
"Mister Mika's Quirk makes whatever he cooks smell really, really good," Ingenium says,
answering Izuku's question before it can even be asked.
"Oh." Izuku furrows his brow in thought. "That's a good power for a food vendor, but that feels a
little…"
"Illegal?" Izuku nods. "Yeah, he had to get a permit for it, and he gets free Quirk suppressants from
the government. Not that he uses them."
"Wait, was he… was he breaking the law back there?" Izuku asks.
"More like bending the rules," Ingenium says. "The government strongly encourages him to take
the suppressants, but they aren't required. But if he got his permit and didn't agree to take the pills,
then he'd have to pay a massive tax."
"Wait, hold on," Izuku says. "So he is breaking the law because he agreed to take the suppressants
but didn't."
"Sure."
"And you don't do anything about it?"
"Nope."
"Why?"
"Because he's a nice guy and I also try to be a nice guy," Ingenium says. "I know he won't hurt
anybody, and the food he makes is genuinely amazing—the best seafood ever, in my opinion. All
of his other papers are in order. And if I did try to bring him in for it, well…" Ingenium trails off,
stopping. Izuku stops as well and looks ahead. A mother and a child approach them. Both are
smiling. The child breaks free from his mother's hand and runs up to them.
"Hi-five!" the boy cries. Ingenium gets down on one knee and holds out an arm. Their palms meet
with a dull smack, and Ingenium withdraws his hand like it was shot.
"Ah, kiddo! You got me." He reaches out his 'unhurt' hand and ruffles the boy's hair. "You're
getting stronger. Soon you'll have bigger muscles than me!"
The boy giggles. "And then I can be your sidekick!"
"You betcha!" Ingenium stands and prods Izuku forward. "But how about you meet my new
sidekick? Give 'im five!"
Izuku bends down and claps the boy's palm with his own. He reels back, acting like he's taken a
massive hit. Clutching his palm to his chest, he says, "Ouch! You really are strong!"
The boy laughs again, jumping up and down in excitement. "Can I follow you on patrol? Please,
please?"
Ingenium laughs cheerfully. "I wish, kid. But no. Your mother would worry herself to death."
The boy huffs. "So? I wanna have fun!"
"Rook!" the boy's mother says, walking up from behind her son. "That's so rude!"
"'M sorry, Ma," the boy says, shuffling away to avoid his mother's extended hand. He even goes so
far as to push it away so doesn't have to hold it.
"Thank you for your apology," the mother says. She turns to Ingenium. "Sorry for the trouble."
"Oh, there's no trouble," Ingenium says, holding up his arms. "I don't mind small stops like this.
Though if you're trying to get some octopus, you might want to pick up the pace. The line's getting
long."
"Shoot!" the mother and son say at the same time. They both hurry off to the stand, calling out
goodbyes as they wave. Izuku hears the boy say that he doesn't want his favorite food to run out. It
puts a smile on his face.
"That's why I don't do anything about Mister Mika."
Izuku turns to look at Ingenium and then back to the family who's waiting at the back of the line.
"Can you explain?"
"Sure. I started working to become a hero so I could make others feel safe and happy. It's a little
different than most—Shota decided to be a hero because he thought it would be the best use for his
Quirk, and Hizashi did it to get popular originally. But I put the happiness of the people before all
else." Ingenium points to the food stand. "That's one of the most popular spots in the city. People
go there every day to get lunch, relax in the park nearby, and have a good time. If I reported Mister
Mika, his stand would go away. And the people wouldn't be happy. They wouldn't trust me either
since I hurt them."
"So you turn a blind eye to keep everyone happy," Izuku says. "That's… that's really noble, I
think."
"Good. That means I don't have to bribe you to keep quiet," Ingenium chuckles. "But you do
understand what I'm getting at, right?"
Izuku nods. "Yeah. You put the happiness and wellbeing of the people before the law."
"Yep. But I still enforce and abide by the law. Don't take it the wrong way. I have a feeling that if
you do, Eraser will have my head." Ingenium chuckles at his own joke and looks back at the line
of people. They're all happy, even the ones in the back. And the food is served with a smile. "That
is more important than any rule, in my opinion. To me, being a hero is about lifting people up. I've
helped a few of the people here get out of debt. I helped even more overcome addiction. I helped
pay for schooling for kids from poor families. I house the homeless, too. And everyone is welcome
to raid the break room fridge if they need it."
Izuku stares at Ingenium, unsure of what to say or how to feel. Awe, or maybe admiration builds up
inside of his chest. "You're a good hero."
"Thanks, kid. But let's not get caught up in ourselves, yeah? I know I started yammering on first,
but we really need to get back on track. C'mon, let's go villain hunting."
They don't find any crime for a while. Their—or rather Ingenium's—mere presence seems to
brighten up every street they walk down. People see the gleam of the white armor and the
distinctive helmet and smile immediately. Any potentially shady individuals quietly slink away at
the same time, though one or two give the hero a dirty look before they do. But the vast majority of
the interactions Izuku sees are positive. No one tries anything, and even the worst-looking streets
feel like home.
Izuku decides that he wants to be like Ingenium in that regard. Trusted and respected, and maybe
just a little bit feared. Like All Might, but without all the awe and massive presence. Approachable
is the right word, he figures. All Might is practically a god in the modern world, untouchable and
glorious in every sense of the words. But Izuku's not sure if he wants that. Maybe later, once he's
held the top spot for a while. But when he's starting out or even towards the middle part of his
career… the knight in glowing white armor is a great role model.
"Here, let's stop and have a break. It's kinda chilly. Got some hot chocolate if you want." Izuku
looks up at Ingenium as they stand on the corner of a street. There's a small to-go cafe to the left
which Ingenium strolls up to, reaching for and taking off his helmet. Izuku follows, glancing over
the street as he does just to make sure everything is in order. There's nothing out of place, but Izuku
does a headcount of everyone currently walking, partly out of curiosity but mostly out of worry. As
foolish as it may be to think that something bad would happen without them noticing, Izuku can't
shake it. The people just look so happy, and he wants to make sure they stay that way. But he sets
that to the side and follows Ingenium.
The cafe is small and slightly rundown. The wallpaper is dated and peeling, and there aren't any
tables. The counter is see-through, and Izuku looks at the muffins and pastries in hunger. He hasn't
eaten in four or so hours, and while he does have a few power bars, he'd rather save those for an
emergency.
"I'll get you a muffin if you’d like," Ingenium says, ringing the bell at the counter. He takes his
helmet off and rests it in the crook of his arm. Izuku catches a flash of orange from behind the
kitchen doors, probably from a worker.
"No thanks," Izuku says. "I, uh… I have to stick to my diet."
"You're sixteen. Live a little," Ingenium says, chuckling. "It's alright to cheat every now and then. I
tell my little brother that all the time, except he's fifteen. A muffin and a hot chocolate won't kill
you, especially if it's only, like, once a month."
"I'm alright," Izuku says. "I'll get something to eat back at the agency. Or maybe I'll order
something I can eat."
"Suit yourself," Ingenium says right as the doors to the kitchen open.
"Hey, Tensei. What can I getcha?" A grey-haired waiter in an orange apron lazily waves to
Ingenium. He's already reaching for the second smallest cups when Ingenium responds.
"Medium decaf, splash of hazelnut creamer, no sugar."
"Could I interest you in pumpkin spice instead?" the man asks, turning around and setting the cup
under a coffee dispenser and pulling the handle. A spout of black, steaming liquid pours out. The
smell makes Izuku even hungrier.
"Good grief, that's already in season?" Ingenium asks, leaning on the counter.
The man behind the counter laughs. "That's what I told my wife when she said she ordered the
mix! I swear that stuff starts selling earlier and earlier every year. Pretty soon I'll start putting it on
the menu in July."
"That'd be a nightmare," Ingenium says, reaching for the now-completed coffee. "Some of the
people back at the office love that stuff. We'd have to get a few temps just for coffee runs."
"If it gets me more sales, I'm all for it." The man accepts Ingenium's cash and slips it into the
register. He turns to Izuku. "What about you, eh? Coffee or tea?"
"Uhhh… black tea?" Izuku says, not wanting to say no but also wanting to avoid anything that goes
against his diet. "No sugar, light milk."
The waiter raises an eyebrow. "Milk, huh? That's how they do it 'cross the pond. Of course, the
pond in our case is Eurasia, not the Atlantic, but you get the picture. Right?"
Ingenium gently elbows Izuku and mouths at him to play along. "Sure."
"Good to hear." The waiter turns around and opens a small fridge. He pulls out a small jug of milk.
"How big of a cup do you want?"
"Small," Izuku says. "I don't feel like…"
His hair stands on end, and lighting runs through his body. His stomach churns and his blood roars
in his veins. One for All goes wild, pushing against him. They both know something's wrong, but
how? The cafe is completely empty.
"Don't what, son?" the waiter asks. "If you don't finish that sentence, I'll make ya a big one and
you'll have to pay more."
Ingenium chuckles at the man's joke but rests a hand on Izuku's shoulder. "Are you alright?" he
asks, face full of worry.
"I…" Every inch of Izuku's subconscious screams at him to turn around and look outside. His
mental barricades against One for All's frenzy crack. Reflexively, he lets a little of it out. Green
lighting begins to dance on his skin alongside the electricity inside of him. Somehow, though he
really shouldn't be unsure about it, he knows that something big is going to happen down the street.
Something dangerous and potentially deadly.
Blackwhip rips from his skin, tearing his costume without a care in its haste. A fraction of a second
later, a boom followed by a roar thunders through the air. The glass of the cafe window shatters,
and a wave of heat hits him right in the face.
He hears the waiter and Ingenium cry out in shock. He hears the glass whistle through the air. He
hears people screaming in the street. But he sees nothing. He closed his eyes what feels like an
hour ago out of surprise. But when he opens them again, he's greeted with the sight of Blackwhip,
woven right like a net holding thousands of glass shards. Izuku takes a deep breath and lets the
whips drop. He turns around to see Ingenium helping the man up.
"Go out there right now and get a look at what's going on," Ingenium orders as he sits the waiter on
a stool behind the counter. The man doesn't look good, but there's no bleeding or shards anywhere
near him. "I'll radio for—for everything and make sure he's alright. Be safe! Don't rush into
anything!"
"Y-yes, sir!" Izuku says, taking off. His Quirk is still going haywire as he jumps through the frame
of the window. One for All itself is in overdrive, trying to keep on its toes. But there's something
different to go with it. A compass inside of him points him down the street, tugging at his gut and
straining his mind. There are also smaller tugs directing him at the people in other parts of the
street, all of them a person Izuku saw before walking into the cafe. But the big compass is
unrelenting, and Izuku sprints down the street towards the city bank.
Halfway there, a wave of deja vu hits him like a truck. He's done this before, running into a
burning bank. Or maybe he hasn't. He remembers rushing into smoke and fire to save a life, but he
also remembers being told to focus on reconnaissance and to be cautious. His legs start to feel too
short for his stride. He feels as though he should be taller, much taller. And skinnier. But then One
for All roars in his chest, shocking him. You are Nine! it screams. And he feels right.
Kicking into the air, Izuku feels his necklace under his costume. "I am Midoriya Izuku," he
mutters. "Deku. And I have a job to do!"
The smoke climbs high, obscuring his vision. Izuku remedies that with a simple punch and flies a
quick circle around the block. The bank is the only building affected. One of the walls has been
completely caved in and the others teeter dangerously. It's impossible to tell if there are still people
inside, but considering that he hasn't seen anyone running away with money or hostages, the
villains are either still inside or completely gone.
At a glance, no one on the ground seems severely injured. He can hear ambulances and firetrucks
on their way already, so the people outside of the building should be safe. But EMTs won't start
going through an unstable building with potential hostiles inside.
In a flash, Izuku is back on the ground. He scans the area for Ingenium. The white armor sticks out
in the grey of the city and the black of the smoke. Izuku sprints over.
"Sir! I couldn't see any severely wounded outside, but the entire east wall of the bank is gone. The
building is in danger of collapse, and I think the villains are still inside."
"That bank's got one of the best vaults in the country," Ingenium says grimly. "If it's being
attacked, it means they're packing lots of firepower. Or they're stupid. Both are dangerous. We
should wait for backup…"
"But the civilians inside need help," Izuku finishes. Ingenium nods.
"We can't hesitate. You know breach and clear methods, right?"
"Yes, sir."
"Good. I'll take point; we'll go in through the front door and work our way to the vault. It's down a
set of stairs in the back of the building." Ingenium starts to run over, and Izuku tails.
"But sir, I'd make for a better point. I'm fire-resistant, partially bulletproof, and I can hold up the
ceiling if it collapses."
Ingenium stops short of the remains of the bank's front door. He deliberates for only a moment.
"Fine. But you're explaining this to Eraser. Don't die on me, either. That's an order."
"Yes, sir!"
Izuku leads the way into the building. His respirator is up and his goggles are down. But even then,
the smoke permeates into his eyes and nose. He can smell smoldering wood and scorched carpet.
He feels a tear slip out and run down his face. It dries almost instantly on his cheek, but he presses
on.
The lobby is clear. The gaping hole in the side of it makes it a poor choice for villains to lurk, but
they still check it over thoroughly. No civilians are found, and the roof looks like it will hold for a
few more minutes. They should have enough time to clear the whole building before the blaze
consumes it all.
There are two hallways that open into the lobby. One is by where the east wall was and is mostly
caved in. The other is to the west, intact but burning. Izuku presses his back to the wall. He tries to
ignore how hot his skin feels. Sweat starts to run down his body. To his right is Ingenium. On his
left is the hallway. He looks to his teacher who nods. Izuku lunges around the corner, Blackwhip
extending from his back and fingers ready to shoot an airblast. Behind him, Ingenium slides on the
ground, ready to push forward. There is no one visible down the entire length of the hallway.
Izuku casts a whip along the floor, trying to bait out anyone who might be lurking or hidden.
There's nothing. Carefully, he approaches the first door of the hallway. It's closed, but the
doorknob is glowing orange. He can hear flames inside, louder than the other ones in the lobby or
outside the building. The noise is almost human-like, reminding him of laughter. "This might be
the one," Ingenium murmurs. "Be. Careful."
With a deep breath, Izuku raises his foot. They should have more people for this. Room clearing is
different from clearing a hallway or something like the lobby. There's more freedom of movement
and a retreat is easier in a wide-open place. It works both ways, so the villains also have more room
to work; however, both Ingenium and Izuku work well in large rooms with room for mobility. But
in a cramped office, two people against an unknown number of enemies is daunting no matter how
fast they can move.
Izuku slams the heel of his boot into the door. It flies off of its hinges. The sound carries through
the building, but Izuku pays it no mind. Speed and overwhelming force are more important than
stealth. He floods the room with Blackwhip, ready for a fight. But no one is inside. Instead, there's
a gaping hole in the floor, the jagged edges melted and glowing red. Heat rises upward, making
him sweat even more. His mouth dries. He should've had some water earlier.
"Definitely a flame Quirk," Ingenium says, eyeing the hole carefully. He looks up at the ceiling
which is looking weaker by the second. "It's a strong one, too. Or they're on some kind of Quirk
enhancer. That must be how they'll try to break into the safe."
"But that can't be right," Izuku says. "They melted through the entire first floor. That doorknob was
about to liquify. If they get through the safe, they'll burn the money."
"Not if they're careful."
Izuku shakes his head. "How many villains have the skill with their Quirk to burn through the floor
of one of the strongest safes in the country and then be delicate enough to handle bills?"
"Not a lot," Ingenium says, agreeing with Izuku's point. "And the whole situation shows that
they're incompetent. They broke in through a wall when they could've gotten in legally. The person
couldn't control their head enough to avoid melting the doorknob. This isn't a professional
criminal."
"Or maybe it is," Izuku says. "Maybe… maybe this is their way in and a distraction. It's eye-
catching and bold. There could be more villains on the way. All the fire villain has to do is break
the safe and get captured or run away. Then—"
The building shakes like it's in an earthquake. Izuku hears the lobby cave in.
"We don't have time to speculate," Ingenium says, firing up his engines. "The fire villain is the
current largest threat. I will hold them off until reinforcements can arrive. You will search the rest
of the building for civilians."
"We shouldn't split up."
"We have no other choice. Backup will be stalled even longer now. We must act quickly and in the
best interest of the people at risk. So go! And come back to me with reinforcements!"
Izuku watches as Ingenium jumps down the hole. He should be going with him. He should be
watching the man's back, protecting him from any unexpected harm, ready to carry him to safety if
he gets hurt. And it should be vice versa, too. But it can't be. Other people are in danger. He steels
himself. Silently, he promises to make it back quickly. Then he leaves the room.
He clears the rest of the hallway as quickly and safely as possible. He always leads with
Blackwhip, not wanting to risk his own body when there's no one to back him up. There's no one to
be found in the first hallway, so he moves on to the second. Deep in his bones, the electricity starts
to tingle again. He knows that Ingenium is in grave danger. He knows that the man is slowly
succumbing to heat exhaustion. Izuku wants to go. But he doesn't.
"That man is a UA graduate," he tells himself. "There's no way he'll die down there."
The second hallway is almost non-existent. Rubble has fallen, and even the smallest shift could
bring even more down. He can't go by himself. That'd be a death sentence for anyone inside. So he
uses Blackwhip again. Once more, there's no one to be found. Did the villains evacuate the
building before they blew it up? There should be people here. Or… or bodies. But there's nothing.
He moves to the second floor next. He has to use Float to get there—if he walks, the floor might
give out. And once again, there's nothing. Not a trace of civilians or villains. It's uncanny. But
Izuku doesn't feel like he's in danger. The only danger he can feel is two floors down. Nervously,
he prepares to meet back up with Ingenium. Something's wrong, but what?
But he has to force aside his hesitation and nerves. Self-doubt can kill. So Izuku flies back down
the stairs, through the lobby, and into the still-burning hole. He's met with the sight of Ingenium
gracefully dodging waves of fire like he was born for it. His exhaust pipes burn a magnificent blue,
and the copper glows hotter than the fire. But the fire is still growing strong. The villain is
practically made of it, blazing a violent orange and attacking like mad. The entire situation is
delicate. Izuku can't just join in. It's clear that Ingenium is being pushed to the limit of his reaction
time. One wrong move could mean disaster.
"Burn! Die! Turn to ash, you living stain!" The villain unleashes a ring of fire at waist height. Izuku
jumps over easily and so does Ingenium. But the blast hits the safe which is at the end of the hall.
The locking mechanism warms for just a second, but it holds. There are five or six other score
marks too, showing that it's been attacked plenty of times already. But interestingly, the door is
only slightly ajar, just wide enough for someone of Izuku's size to slip through. "And your friend
can eat it too!"
Izuku dodges a ball of flame, letting it hit the wall behind him. The building moans and shakes. He
deflects the next one with a kick. His foot feels slightly warm but it doesn't hurt. A fire retardant
was a great idea. He's thankful to Power Loader for suggesting it.
"Deku! Report!" Ingenium screams as he launches off of a wall and knees the villain in where their
body must be.
"I found no civilians!" Izuku calls, looking for an opening. "But I didn't hear about any backup
either!" The villain stills for just the barest moment. It's probably so they can let off a massive
attack. But Izuku doesn't let them. He charges, flakes like he's going to kick them in their lower
region, and then punches them across their upper body at ten percent. They crash back into the safe
but get back up with a vengeance.
Izuku deflects another ball of fire as Ingenium pulls back. The man takes a short breath before
jumping back in and decking the villain across their middle. "We'll have to stall!" he says, leaping
back and twisting around another wave. "The civilians are in the safe! He can't get through it!"
"Oh really?" The villain turns to face the massive door. They start to glow even hotter. Izuku kicks
them in the back with both legs. They slam into the metal. It scorches and dents, but it holds.
"Should we shut the door?" Izuku backflips away from the villain, using two whips to trip them
over again.
"They'd run out of oxygen!" Ingenium leaps from the floor and then off a wall. He tries to land
another hit, but the flames force him back. "In fact, we might run out as well! We only have that
one hole for ventilation! The stairs leading up caved in a while back."
Izuku tries to think, but it's hard when he has to dodge, attack, and watch Ingenium's back. Air
holes… asphyxiation… the safe… "No, that won't work," he mutters. Locking the villain in would
require taking the civilians out, which is too much of a risk. They'd be burned before the door was
shut; it would take just one slip up or a lucky shot from the villain to turn everyone into a pile of
ash. If only the building wasn't so unstable. Then he could drag the villain up into the sky without
worrying about a cave-in. Wait.
Blackwhip extends from his palm, twisting around in a spiral shape. He curls his hand into a fist.
The tendrils wriggle, twisting around each other and forming a spike. Izuku mentally prepares for
the pain and dashes. His left arm slams into the top right corner of the safe. Forty percent is still
enough to hurt him, but it's bearable. His arm sinks into the metal, all the way up to his shoulder.
"What the hell are you doing?!" Ingenium screams.
Izuku pulls his arm out. Green eyes, burning with lightning, peer inside. He sees people cowering
in fear along the rows of safety deposit boxes. They cover their heads and scream when they catch
sight of him. Shaking it off, he grins. His teeth glow with the light of One for All, a show of power
and anger a predator would give. Blackwhip comes to his aid, poking through his flesh and giving
him a set of glossy armor. Izuku kicks off the ground, sending stone and tile flying. Winding up,
Izuku chooses his target carefully, zeroing in on the villain's center of mass. He slams his foot into
the fire, driving them back from the safe.
"Keep 'em busy!" he orders, dashing back to the safe. "I have a plan!" Izuku slips into the safe,
ready to save some lives.
He makes air holes. Lots of them. The air inside is so thin, he struggles to keep his breath. He can't
imagine what it would be like if he and Ingenium locked themselves inside to ride out the villain
attack. The safe is apparently under a few meters of concrete and then a few more of earth. That's
fine. He uses Blackwhip to dig through those layers as well as the metal. Once the people inside
can breathe, he heads back out.
Izuku tosses Ingenium inside the safe like he's some kind of toy. Then, before the villain can react,
Izuku shuts the safe and spins the lock shut. "What the fu—"
Izuku tackles them again. But this time, he goes up. Blackwhip takes the heat easily. Izuku gets a
little toasty, but it's hardly incapacitating. He breaks through the rubble of the building, trailing a
mix of fire and electricity. There's the danger of rubble falling into the air holes and on other
people nearby, but he's accounted for that. Another net, much, much bigger than before, catches
every bit of building. Concrete and rebar are just scaled-up glass shards. Or so he figures.
As he flies, Izuku searches for a lake. He could smother the flames out, but that would require him
to cocoon the villain in Blackwhip. He's already pushing his limit by keeping himself from burning
and holding onto the rubble. He doesn't want to risk it by trying to get the villain in as well.
So he searches and searches for a body of water, ignoring the way the villain screams in fear and
shock because they're apparently afraid of heights.
After a minute or so, Izuku finds one. It's a large pond in the middle of a park. He circles it once to
make sure there are no civilians around it. The villain gets a sense of what's to come and fights to
break free. It's pointless. Izuku takes a deep breath and dives down, using them as a shield. They
land with a splash as tons upon tons of rubble follow them into the water. There's a sizzle and a
loud groan. The water boils. The villain's fire goes out.
The villain is rushed into custody later. Apparently, they loaded up on Quirk enhancers in an
attempt to steal the safe. Fire rescue heroes put out the bank, and disaster relief teams pull the
civilians out of the safe. Izuku is hidden from onlookers in an ambulance. Ingenium finds him a
half-hour after the arrest. He looks tired but happy.
"No one died. The worst injury was a second-degree burn and a singed eyebrow."
"The villain didn't hurt them when he put them in the safe?" Izuku asks.
"Nope. He heard us and planned on trying for a hostage exchange." Ingenium sits on one of the
benches in the ambulance across from Izuku. "It was his B-plan, I think. Not everything is clear
yet, though. Which means…" He trails off, obviously intending for Izuku to finish.
"Paperwork."
"Oh yeah," Ingenium chuckles, though he looks a little pained. "Lots of paperwork. Since you're
not hurt, let's get back to the agency. You'll probably be there a while between writing reports and
talking to your teachers, friends, and family."
"... They know?" Izuku asks.
"I told Shota."
"You what?"
"Not much," Ingenium continues casually. "Just enough so he knows what to ask you. But hey, it's
not all bad. My little brother's coming to the agency. He'll help you with the paperwork!"
Izuku rides back to the agency in a police van, fearing death. Or rather a worried Eraserhead. But
then again, those two are really the same thing.
Chapter End Notes
It's not a Deku work-study if there isn't mass chaos. It's, like, a law. The next one will
be more chill though. There'll be a talk about Danger Sense and Tenya. All good
things. This chapter was just for me, you, and Izuku to get a feel for being back in the
swing of things because we've all been in Therapy land for .while.
I broke my nose and got a mild concussion Tuesday playing soccer. Right after I
posted about Bakugo's broken nose in Mean Rabbit, which you should read. I was
doing something badass, though, so it's alright. Is it karma? I don't believe in that stuff
but it is kinda funny. I'm out for the rest of the season, though. Updates might (?) pick
up. I dunno, we'll have to see.
Also, I've gotten, like, two comments about a discord. Should I make one? Is there
intrest in one? Let me know and I'll think about it. Cheers!
Burden of the Fourth
Chapter Notes
As of August 6, 2021 this chapter has been edited and reformated by my beta, flauel.
Lunch is a simple sandwich with fruit. It's delicious and Izuku wolfs it down in less than a minute
because he's absolutely starving. He also eats half of what's in the break room fridge and a liter of
water. Firefighting, apparently, is ridiculously calorie-consuming. That or he's getting another
growth spurt, which is a horrifying notion because he's tall enough alright, thank you very much.
No one stops him from eating, though. In fact, the whole agency seems to be in recovery mode.
Heroes lounge in the lobby, half in their costumes. Someone disconnected the phone at the front
desk, which is probably a crime in some way, but everyone's too tired to do anything anyway.
Well, Izuku's not tired. Not a whole lot, anyways. He knows he's a little fatigued from the heat and
lack of oxygen, but he volunteers to go for a coffee run so there's stuff for people to drink.
Ingenium stops him, though.
"Paperwork," the man says, gently yet firmly guiding Izuku by the shoulder to an office room.
"You're not getting out of it. You went Plus Ultra, now you go Paperwork Ultra."
"But isn't coffee important?" Izuku tries, looking back at the door to the agency.
"It is," Ingenium agrees, opening the door and letting Izuku in the office. "But Eraserhead would
want you to do the paperwork. I want you to do the paperwork. And, uh, my brother Tenya wants
to meet you. I wouldn't call him a fan per se, but he admires you."
"Alright," Izuku agrees, sitting down at the desk. "Where do we start?"
Ingenium smiles, but it's hollow. His eyes seem almost sunken in. He walks out of the room and
wheels in a cart with a stack of papers a meter and a half tall. He takes off his ash-stained gloves
and grabs a few centimeters of paper. He sets them on the table and grabs an entire box of pens.
"With Quirk usage. You know about that stuff, right?"
"Yeah. We have to list when and why we used our Quirks. But…" Izuku slides a sheet over and
looks at it. He'll need at least ten to himself. Probably more. He feels something inside him break
and he slumps down in his chair. "I think I know why you wanted me to help with this."
Ingenium chuckles. "I know I'm pretty cruel, but doing it alone is way worse. It's why the agency
does theirs together or in groups. My advice is to do a chunk, take a break, and then resume. Let's
get started."
Izuku's fingers start to ache a few minutes in. He knows it's just because he really doesn't want to
be doing paperwork, though—he writes for way longer at school daily. Like Ingenium suggested,
Izuku takes a short break and stretches a little. He checks his phone, makes sure he's not trending
again, and then gets right back to work. He's yet to receive any messages, probably because his
friends, mother, and All Might are all at work. But that's a good thing, the more he thinks about it.
It means they won't be worried and they'll call or text him as soon as they know. It also means he
can focus on his paperwork, which isn't an upside, really, but it's solid practice for when he has his
own agency.
A few minutes into his second chunk of paperwork, Izuku hears rapid footsteps coming down the
hall. He looks up. Ingenium has set his pens and papers aside in favor of watching the closed door
with a smile. Moments later, the door to the room swings open, and a rather tall teen with blue hair
and square glasses walks inside.
"Tensei! Mother told me about what happened! Is everything alright?"
"Hey, Tenya," Ingenium says, pushing a chair out for his brother. "Everything's fine. It's good to
see you. How's school?"
"As good as always," Tenya says, sitting down in the chair and accepting the pen Ingenium hands
him like it's second nature. "I've been bumped down to second place in the class rankings.
However, I'm sure I can reclaim the top spot if I continue to study rigorously!"
"That's great!" Ingenium slides a sheet of paper over to Tenya and looks over to Izuku. He winks,
and his brother starts to scribble on the form without a second thought. "But don't worry about
working so hard. You've already got the credentials needed to make it into UA. If I were you, I'd be
more worried about the practical."
"Yes, but academic excellence is still a requirement to enter UA!" Tenya continues to write, but his
other hand starts to move up and down sharply. Izuku watches as it keeps perfect time, the younger
boy's jacket sleeve swaying as it does. "And the statistics show that at least sixty people per year
earn enough points in the practical to be accepted. That category of people is then sorted through,
and the top forty are allowed in. I cannot rely on the practical to carry me!"
"Fair enough," Ingenium says, grabbing a new paper to fill out. "But wouldn't it be better to ask a
person who took the test?"
"Tensei, you graduated almost twenty years ago," Tenya says, looking over to Ingenium, who
looks like he's having an existential crisis. "The material has certainly changed since then!"
"... Maybe don't remind me that I've been an adult for that long," the man says, setting down his
pen. "But I wasn't talking about me. I was talking about him." Ingenium points to Izuku who
waves.
"Hi."
"Ah! You are Midoriya Izuku, correct?" Tenya asks, standing up and leaning across the desk.
"That's my name," Izuku says, awkwardly shooting Tenya the finger guns. "You're Iida Tenya,
right?"
Tenya nods. "Ingenium is my older brother, as you probably know. It's a pleasure to meet you. I've
been interested in your abilities since I watched the Sports Festival." Tenya extends a hand to
shake. Izuku takes it.
"Thanks," Izuku says, releasing Tenya's hand. "I get that a lot, I guess. You're applying to UA?"
"Yes, of course! It's only the best school for heroics in the country."
Ingenium chuckles. "There's Shiketsu, too, but you won't find anyone here who'll disagree.
Midoriya, is it alright if Tenya asks a few questions?"
"Sure," Izuku says, pushing away the paperwork in front of him. He's always happy to talk about
his school. "It's not the first time I've been asked about UA. What do you want to know?"
"What was your training regimen like leading up to the exam?" Tenya asks. "And I would also like
to know how the two scores were weighted."
"Like if one was worth more than the other?" Izuku asks. Tenya nods. "I don't know, and if I did, I
might not be able to tell you. I do know that I scored high on the written portion. Actually, now that
I think about it, I had someone tell me that UA cares more about your actions in the practical."
"So the practical score is more important, then," Tenya says, stroking his chin. "Interesting. But
what do they do if people have the same scores? It wouldn't be an issue for the top ten, but if
places fifteen and under all score the same…"
"Oh, they've got ways of sorting through everyone," Izuku assures. "The written is probably one of
them, but there's one that makes a huge difference."
"I see. And what might that be?"
"Can't tell you," Izuku says, smiling sheepishly. "It would directly affect your actions during the
test, which would defeat the purpose of the system. If I were you, I'd go in aiming to be the best
hero possible."
"Alright, you've given me a lot to think about." Tenya grabs a blank sheet of paper and scribbles a
few things down. "Thank you for that. But I would still like to know how you trained before UA."
"Active combat training is probably the best thing to focus on for the practical," Izuku starts. "I
wouldn't worry about much beyond that since UA will take care of everything else. Sparring with
your brother is probably the easiest. Um, and I lifted weights and ran a lot, but that's just me."
"Hmm. Perhaps a workout regimen would be beneficial," Tenya says, pushing up his glasses. "I do
a lot of cardio training already and I have some experience with my Quirk. But lifting weights has
been shown to improve overall health and athleticism."
"I can help you get started with that," Ingenium says. "We'll talk to Mom and Dad about making
some time. And you're always welcome to spar here if you'd like. The sidekicks will take it easy on
you, so no worries about that. Midoriya might even go a round with you."
Tenya looks at Izuku. "It would be an honor."
"I'd like to as well," Izuku agrees. "Oh, and one last tip I think would help you: Precision over
power, always. It depends more on where the hit lands than how much force is behind it most of
the time. And heroes especially need to have an intimate understanding of their Quirks. Focus on
the small stuff like turns!" Izuku looks at Tenya's arms. "Er, you do have a Quirk like your
brother's, right?"
"Yes. The engines are in my calves rather than my arms, however." Tenya writes a few more things
down on the paper. "Thank you, Midoriya. I hope to be your underclassman in a few months."
"I hope you get in, too," Izuku says. "I think you've got a good shot already!"
"Thank you!" Tenya says, sharply chopping his arm through the air. "But we should continue
working! All of this paperwork has a deadline!"
They work for a while longer, occasionally stopping for breaks or to do other things around the
agency. A few other pros stop by to check in with Ingenium. They leave with assigned duties or
orders to rest. Everyone seems to be in high spirits. The lack of casualties lifts the mood, and smiles
are everywhere. Izuku can even hear a radio playing in the lobby and someone singing as they do
their work.
While the phone at the front desk never rings, Izuku's does. He's in the middle of writing an arrest
report when it starts. The thing buzzes like a bee gone mad, shaking in his pocket as several
notifications play at once.
"A phone call—a text—email—tw—a phone—a text is here!"
Izuku excuses himself from the room and heads down the hall, hitting Accept Call and pressing his
phone to his cheek as he does.
"Izuku, my baby!"
He didn't check the contact before picking up, but he doesn't have to guess with that opening line.
"Hey, Mom. How's it going?"
"I should be asking you that! Are you alright? Were you hurt? The news reports say everything's
fine, but I'm still worried. This was supposed to be a relaxing thing to ease you back in! But now
you're on TV again!"
"I'm perfectly fine, Mom," Izuku says, leaning against the wall. "The worst I got was a little
dehydration. There isn't a scratch on me. And, uh, I didn't intend to get on TV. People were in
danger, I happened to be in danger, and, well…"
"I understand," his mother says, her worry draining from her voice. "Just be careful for me, alright?
I almost had a heart attack when I heard your name come from the TV in the break room."
"Are you off work soon?" Izuku asks.
"In about a half-hour," his mother replies. "What about you? When will you be home for dinner?"
"Uh, I'm not entirely sure," Izuku says, thinking of the mountain of paperwork that remains.
"There's some stuff I need to finish up here first, but maybe I can work on it tomorrow? Or on my
next shift? I'll ask Ingenium and then tell you."
"Alright, but the sooner the better, you hear?" On the other end of the line, his mother picks
something up and then sets it in a container. It's probably a pen or maybe a snack. "I want to see
you! You'll have to tell me all about your first day before the big fight."
"Will do, Mom," Izuku says. "I'll try my best to be home. Talk to you later?"
"Yes, talk to you later. I love you."
"Love you too."
Izuku hangs up and starts to walk back to the office. He starts to clear his notifications since most
of them are from Twitter. He stops when he sees a few missed calls from Nejire. He quickly calls
her back, nervously tapping his foot as his phone rings. He feels his stomach turn over, and his
palms start to sweat. He shouldn't be nervous. It's just Nejire. But that just makes it worse.
"Hey, Izuku!"
"H-hi, Nejire," Izuku greets, tapping his fingertips on his thigh. "Uh. Why'd you call me?"
"So I could say congrats and make sure you're alright."
"Oh. Well, I'm alright," Izuku says. "No one was hurt. The worst thing about it all is filing all the
paperwork."
Nejire sucks in a breath like she's been struck. "Ooh, yeah, all of that property damage and the fact
that it was a national bank… Have fun dealing with that."
"I won't."
Nejire laughs. "I figured. But other than the paperwork, how was your first day back on patrol?"
"Good," Izuku says, "great, even. Ingenium is an amazing hero, and I can tell I'm going to learn a
lot from him. You're also working right now, right?"
"Yep. Well, technically no. Ryukyu has me on call so I'm just hanging out in the office. I get paid
to do nothing, basically. The only reason I didn't call you earlier was because I was sparring with
one of the heroes here."
"It sucks that you're not on active duty," Izuku says, resting his back against the wall.
"A little, yeah," Nejire admits. "But the rest of the week, I'll be on the streets. Er, in the sky,
actually, but you get the picture. Did you know as students we can only work so many hours of
active duty a month?"
"I think I remember reading something like that in the terms of the license but I couldn't tell you
what the number was," Izuku says, slowly sliding down against the wall until his knees are tucked
into his chest and his rear is on the floor.
"Well, the limit is one hundred hours just so you know." On the other end of the line, Izuku can
hear Nejire sit down in a chair. "But that's only patrol hours. You can be on call as much as you'd
like."
"So you're doing nothing in hopes of getting called in?"
"Yep. That way I won't waste my hours. Pretty smart, huh?"
"Yeah. I might use that, actually. If I'm allowed to work that much," Izuku says, a little bummed.
He's technically still on a mental health break of sorts. Hound Dog and Eraserhead want him to
take it easy even if he feels great.
"Hey, don't get pouty. You've been doing so good lately. I'm sure Aizawa will notice and let you
work as much as you can soon!"
"Maybe," Izuku says with a sigh. "I should be happy to be working as it is, but I still want more. I
don't like being inactive."
"I know," Nejire assures. "But you'll make it through. Just a couple of weeks, right?"
"Something like that."
Nejire hums, and Izuku can clearly see her thoughtful expression even if she's tens of kilometers
away. She's probably tapping her chin. "Oh! I know! My old middle school is having a cultural
festival on Friday! Do you wanna go with me?"
Izuku blinks. "Your middle school throws a cultural festival?"
"Uh, yeah," Nejire says, sounding a little sheepish. "Erm, it's a… a private academy, so."
"Oh." Nejire's probably rich. Interesting. "Yeah, I'd like to go. What time?"
"I'll text you where and when to pick me up," Nejire says. "It starts at four, but everything fun
happens after dark."
"Sounds good! Is it…" Izuku clears his throat and looks around the hallway. It's completely empty.
"Is it a date?" he whispers into the mic.
Nejire giggles. "You betcha. See you Friday?"
"Definitely," Izuku says, a wide smile slipping onto his face.
"Perfect. I gotta go. You better get back to work, though! Don't let a hot date distract you, Deku!"
"And the same to you, Nejire-chan."
The other line goes dead with a laugh and Izuku relaxes against the wall. He lets his legs lay flat.
That wasn't so bad. All of his nerves dropped the second they started talking. It was pleasant. Not
as good as being with her in person, but a nice substitute. And, he thinks, it got him a date. A date
that he actually knows is a date. It's a little embarrassing to consider that an accomplishment, but
Izuku doesn't care. It's going to be great.
Standing, he slips his phone into his pocket. He walks back to the door and pushes it open. "Hey,
guys, sorry about that. I just had a phone call, and… what are you doing?"
Ingenium takes his boots off of the table and lowers the newspaper he got from… somewhere.
"So," he says, stroking his chin and trying to look scholarly. Beside him, Tenya looks tired of it all.
"Nejire -chan?"
Izuku feels himself go scarlet. "That's her hero name," he defends.
"Fair enough," Ingenium says, cracking a smile. He tosses the newspaper in the wastebasket and
turns to his brother. "And that, Tenya, is another reason for you to go to UA."
"Tensei, I already want to go to UA," Tenya says, trying to resume his paperwork. "I don't need
another reason."
"Yeah, but you also have Shiketsu as a backup school," Ingenium points out. "You should change
that."
"Why?" Tenya asks. "Why would I possibly want to exclude the second-best school in Japan from
my list of applications?"
"They ban romantic relationships," Ingenium explains. "And that's not to say that not trying to date
in high school is a bad thing. It's your choice—which is what I'm getting at. You should have the
choice if you want to."
"I don't feel inclined to try that sort of thing out at the moment," Tenya says, "and frankly, I don't
think I will until I'm an adult with a stable job."
"Cool, but you could change your mind." Ingenium leans back in his chair with his hands on the
back of his head. "I was like that going into UA, you know. Then halfway through the second
semester, I had a change of heart. They say your teens are the time to experiment, and boy did I
experiment."
"I… you… pardon… can't…" Izuku watches as Tenya goes through the five stages of grief in three
seconds. But instead of reaching acceptance, he settles on utter disbelief. His mouth moves in
perfect sync with his hand chops, but no sound comes out. He turns to Izuku for support but finds
that the other boy is busy hiding his smile. He makes a sound akin to a dying animal. Poor Tenya
only finds solace in the paperwork. Izuku would comfort him, but he's too busy laughing.
Not bad for a workday.
[x]
"Danger Sense, huh?"
Izuku sets down his mug of tea and watches the steam curl as it rises. Nedzu's office is pleasantly
warm and, most importantly, private. He's been in office rooms with the principal before, but not
his actual office. The room is built like a bunker with security to match and everything a
rat/mouse/bear/dog could need. And tea. Lots and lots of tea.
"I'm completely sure that it was," Izuku says, locking eyes with each of his teachers in turn. Gran is
as gruff as always. All Might looks proud. Nedzu looks fascinated. "I felt… sick, almost, before
the initial explosion. Sick and on edge. I wanted to move really, really badly. And then when I was
searching the building, I somehow knew that Ingenium was gradually overheating. My gut didn't sit
right then either."
"Interesting. I've been curious about that particular Quirk ever since I heard of it." Nedzu swirls his
own mug of tea around, stirring up a wisp of steam. "It's a very vague name and description.
'Danger Sense. Allows the user to sense danger around them,'" he quotes.
"But that only gives me more questions," Nedzu continues. "Does the danger have to be active? Or
can it be potential? What qualifies as around the user? What qualifies as danger?"
"I don't know," Izuku says.
"And we don't either," All Might adds. "Four was secretive in his nature. We know that from
Izuku's dream and what little we've gathered about his history."
"Whatever it is, it's probably way stronger than what it was when he was alive," Izuku says. "All
Might added so much power to One for All. Five and Seven both told me that. Danger Sense was
probably strong back in the day. It'll only be more useful now."
"Imagine if you knew where all the danger was when you were just starting out, Toshinori," Gran
says, smirking. "You'd run yourself ragged, stamping out all the crime you could. It would've made
your climb to the top quicker."
"It'll be an amazing ability should he master it," Nedzu agrees. "But you'll have to be careful,
Midoriya."
"How come?"
"If you reveal that you can sense danger in any form, people will become suspicious." Nedzu takes
a sip of his tea. "The Hero Commission is already wary of you for suddenly gaining a triple aspect
Quirk. It'll only get worse if you gain another. All for One is dead, but your life overlaps with his.
To them, it's feasible that you're a former… project of his."
"I understand," Izuku says, "but I can't not use it. It's too powerful, too useful to ignore."
"Which is why we're going to train the hell out of you. Again." Gran Torino straightens in his seat.
"You'll get the ability down pat, and then we'll work on how to hide the fact that you're using it.
It'll take time, but that's a resource we have."
"Indeed," All Might agrees. "There's really no worry. We'll help you every step of the way. The
first of which is activating it."
"You say that like we're going to try it out right now," Izuku says. "Are we?"
"I don't see why not." Nedzu pushes a button on his desk, causing a door to slide open. "We're
under the school. Nothing bad will happen. Well, from the outside at least, but Yagi is plenty
strong enough if you go out of control."
Izuku quickly takes another drink of tea and stands. "Alright. Lead the way."
If Nedzu's office is a bunker, then Nedzu's private training facility is a nuclear shelter. It's big,
brightly lit, and the architecture is obviously made to withstand massive impacts. Izuku doesn't
want to think about how expensive it must've been to make. The material definitely isn't concrete,
but rather something much stronger. The scale of it all makes Izuku feel insignificant and nervous
rather than safe and secure. Probably because it's completely empty.
"UA was a military school, you know," Nedzu says casually. "And, before that, a weapons storage
facility. Rockets were stored right here, and in the event of war, they would've been hauled to the
silo—which is a kilometer or so north—and loaded."
"They had nuclear warheads down here?" Izuku asks, shocked.
Nedzu shrugs. "Japan never had many of those. They only produced them for five or so years
before the collapse. But yes, probably. More likely the warheads would've been napalm, highly
explosive, bunker-busting, or chemical. But let's not dilly-dally!" Nedzu raises his mug. "Get to
work! This'll be a fascinating experiment."
Izuku hears Gran scoff as he walks a few paces away from his teachers. "You can't just throw him
a tidbit like that and expect him to get on with it. That stuff's too interesting and complicated to be
glossed over."
"I'll answer all of his questions later," Nedzu says. "You may begin when ready, Midoriya!"
"Alright," Izuku calls back, now a fair distance away. "But, uh, I'm not sure how to start!"
"Blackwhip and Float had triggers!" All Might calls, cupping his hands around his mouth. "You
said you wanted to protect the people on the street and watch Ingenium's back when Danger Sense
activated! Find something to protect!"
Izuku nods and tries to concentrate. There's nothing to protect in a literal nuclear bunker. The only
people he can see are his teachers. But maybe he doesn't have to see them. He wasn't looking at the
people in the street when the explosion went off, but he still felt them being in danger. He looks up
at the ceiling. There's plenty of people on campus. Someone's probably in danger. If he had to
guess, he'd say it's a Support student in the workshop.
Closing his eyes, Izuku activates One for All. He lets the lighting dance for a moment, enjoying the
warmth the power brings. Back at the start of the year, it felt like an ocean. Deep, wide, and
impossibly large. Alien, too, like he didn't quite belong. But now he knows it like the back of his
hand. The waves are his—most of them, anyway. And now, since the appearance of Danger Sense,
the ocean has become smaller in perspective.
Izuku creates an image of U.A in his mind. He views it from the air like a bird. The skyscrapers of
the fake cities gleam, and the streets and courtyards are filled with life. There are people laughing
and smiling while on break. Beside them are people rushing to class. In the classrooms, there are
students trying to learn. It's pleasant and warm. It feels like home. He pictures himself as a shield
and lets his protectiveness come to the forefront of his mind. He feels the Quirk activate and feels a
brief moment of satisfaction. But it doesn't last.
One of the students has cancer. Another is going hungry. There's a pot of molten metal in the forge
about to tip over. The security guard at the front gate is sleeping on the job. Half the business
course is running on nothing but caffeine, and a fourth of them are going to crash soon. One of the
third years is trying out a risky move that'll surely break their arm. The buildings in fake city
number five are much too old; they'll collapse soon. The electric generators under the school
haven't been used in fifty years and will blow up if turned on.
All of that and more slams into his brain at once. Izuku stumbles and clutches his forehead. It feels
like a nail is being driven into his skull. He feels blood dripping down his cheeks and lips. His
stomach turns in knots. His knees give out and he hits the floor. The pain and pressure continue to
build. There are so many people in danger. There are too many people who need help. He rolls
over and looks at the ceiling. He tries to see through the rock, but it's impossible. He needs to help
them somehow. He can't just lie here.
Izuku tries to stand. He falls down again. Someone grabs his arm but he pushes them away. "I…
I…" He tries to say something, anything. But he can't. The words won't come out. And the danger
won't stop. A bitter taste forms in the back of his throat. With one final attempt to move, Izuku
vomits and passes out.
"You're supposed to be smarter than this." A whisper, hoarse and rough. Izuku pushes against the
sand and opens his eyes. Nine suns greet him. He blinks rapidly and looks around. A figure stands
a few meters away, hunched over. They're tall, only a few inches shorter than Eight. Izuku stands
and runs over to them.
"Four!" he greets. "What happened? Everything hurt, and… well I'm here, so I must've passed
out."
"You're supposed to be smarter than this," Four repeats.
"I'm sorry?" Izuku says. He takes a step back. Four sighs.
"You're clever. Brilliant, even. You're a natural with Quirks too. It's why I decided to let you give it
a try. But you didn't figure it out."
"Didn't figure what out?" Izuku asks, trying to get a look at him. But Four keeps his cowl on right,
and the only feature Izuku can see is a sharp chin.
"That Danger Sense has a danger of its own."
"I… what?" Izuku cocks his head to one side, curious. "I mean, all Quirks have some risk, right? Is
Danger Sense different somehow?"
"Yes," Four says. "The strain is mental, not physical. The brain only has so much processing
power. Danger Sense allows the user to take in more stimuli than the brain can handle."
"Then I'll work on it," Izuku says. "I'll start small and work up until I can handle all of it."
"That's impossible."
"How do you know?"
"Because I tried the same thing." Four looks up and takes off his hood. Izuku tries to hide his
discomfort, because one half of his face droops down sharply. "I had a stroke at thirty-five and
never recovered. I was getting seizures at twenty-two. I nearly died of a brain hemorrhage. I
probably would've if All for One didn't do me in at forty."
Izuku swallows. "You… you tried to do what I did with my muscles with your mind. And it failed."
"Yes. The brain is an organ, not a muscle. It can be improved and strengthened, but repeated wear
cannot be treated like exercise of the body." Four draws himself back up in his cloak, but he holds
Izuku's gaze with steady confidence. "If you do what you did back there repeatedly, you will die
young. Your brain told you to vomit because it thought there was something attacking it from the
inside. Considering how the Quirk works, it's probably right."
"But why?" Izuku asks. "Quirks are… they're part of us. They put strain on us, sure, but trying to
improve them shouldn't kill us!"
Four blinks, one eye doing so at half the speed of the other. "You live in the modern era. Quirks
are streamlined. Efficient. Extensions of the body. I am a first-generation meta-human. My Quirk
is rough and raw, like the first planes. It'll fly, but not well or sustainably. My master's is the same
way. And so is Two's."
"So I can't use it to its fullest extent?"
"Not unless you're willing to die painfully and depressingly young," Four confirms. "It's an
amazing ability even as it is. But as time passes, I've discovered that it simply takes the stimuli—
meaning the threats to the protected—and shoves them in your head. There is no filtering, no
protection, and no way for your brain to know what's going on. You simply know what's
happening or going to happen. Neither you nor I have a sturdier brain than the average person, so
we bear it all. It's quite literally a sensory overload."
"How did you use it, then?" Izuku asks. "Safely, I mean."
"On myself," Four says. "I thought of myself as someone to be protected and used it to sense my
enemies' moves in combat. I found that three or four people is the safe limit to keep an eye on
without experiencing any strain. You might be able to do more or less since all brains are
different."
"Thank you," Izuku says, "for letting me use your power."
Four smiles thinly. It feels bitter due to the droop, even if his eyes glow with life. "Don't thank me
yet, young one. Thank me when my power saves your life."
"I will."
"Good." Four looks up at the sky, staring longingly at the red sun. "I think it's best if we part now,
Nine. I wish you luck and safety on your journey."
"Thank you," Izuku says, also looking at the sky. His eyes are drawn to the Ninth sun. It's small,
but only partially formed. It shines like a quarter moon beside Eight's. "I hope I see you again."
"And I as well. Goodbye, Nine. And please, stay out of mine and my master's memories."
The beach fades along with the suns. Izuku finds himself lying awake in a familiar place: A U.A
hospital bed.
Chapter End Notes
I caved and made a discord. The link will be at the bottom of this.
You can't have an amazing ability like Danger Sense without drawbacks. Well, you
can, but it would be boring. Overpowered protagonists get old fast unless you use them
correctly, which I'm not confident in my ability to do. So I buffed a Danger Sense a
little while also ramping up the backlash. It'll make for better and more engaging
fights in the future, I hope. Also Four has almost no characterization so I'm just giving
him a random personality and back story.
https://discord.gg/UwySY2p3Eh
I'm going to sleep, like, right now so I can workout tomorrow morning. So help me
god if I get ping spammed or if the whole thing goes to shit, I'll... Probably do
something I dunno I've never owned a discord server at all. Join if you want, obey the
rules, yadda, yadda, yadda. Cheers.
Lights, Camera, Pose!
Chapter Notes
As of August 8th, 2021 this chapter has been edited by my beta, flauel.
"This is getting old, kid."
"Mr. Aizawa! Um, ah, it's good to see you?"
"No, it's not."
Izuku laughs nervously, scratching his neck and trying to look anywhere but his teacher's eyes.
"Yeah, the circumstances could be better. Um… how was your most recent patrol?"
"You're awful at diverting the conversation," Aizawa says. From the corner of his eye, Izuku can
see him lean back in his chair. It's just them in the room for the time being. He feels fine, if a little
tired. All is well. "Why did Nedzu and Torino have to carry you up to Recovery Girl from the
basement?" Ah, that. Not all is well.
"... We were trying an experiment," Izuku begins, keeping his words slow and deliberate as he tries
to think of a good story. "And I got a little bit hurt, which is why I'm here."
"Alright," Aizawa says, crossing his arms. "What was the experiment?"
"Pardon?"
"Nedzu also said that you were hurt in an experiment. What was the experiment?"
"Well, Nedzu told you, so you don't need to hear it from me."
"Humor your teacher," Aizawa says, though it feels like an order. "What was going on in the
basement?"
Izuku clears his throat and straightens in bed. He looks Aizawa in the eye. "We… were… trying to
see if I could hold my Quirk at one hundred percent!" Izuku says, trying to hide the relief he has
from coming up with something plausible. "It, ah—I couldn't do it. So I passed out, and that's all I
remember."
Aizawa holds his gaze for a moment. "Why wasn't I present?"
"We didn't want to disturb your nap."
"You got lucky this time," Aizawa says, scowling. Izuku tries not to compare it to a sulking cat.
"Your story lines up with the principal's."
"What story? What I said actually happened."
"Sure." Aizawa stands and stretches. "The next time you decide to test your upper limit, make sure
I'm there to shut it down in case of danger."
"Yes, sir!" Izuku says, watching him step through the door. Aizawa gives him one last critical look
before ducking out. Izuku holds perfectly still for a moment before sighing in relief. He wipes his
brow with the back of his hand. He was sweating a lot, and his pulse is still really fast. Lying is
scary. Who would've thought?
"I see that the crisis has been averted." Izuku looks over to see Nedzu standing in the frame of the
door. "May we come in?"
"Sure."
Nedzu, All Might, Gran Torino, and Recovery Girl all take a seat around his bed. One of them
shuts the door, and Nedzu cranks the air-conditioning unit up to its max. "White noise," he
explains. "Aizawa is much too curious for his own good. It's best if we keep the group as small as
possible, no?"
"It probably is," Izuku agrees. "Uh, I suppose I should explain what happened."
"When you're ready," All Might encourages.
Izuku recounts what he saw in the dream. He spares no detail, and watches as his teachers go from
interested, to hopeful, to disappointed. It's clear that everyone wants him to be able to use the
frankly ridiculous full potential of Danger Sense, but the full story sucks any positivity out of the
air.
"... And he said that if I kept trying to use more than I could stand, I'd die young." Izuku twiddles
his thumbs and looks down at his lap. "But he also gave me some pointers. It's safe to use on three
or four people in close proximity, which will still be an amazing asset in the field. I just can't try to
do what I did downstairs ever again."
"Unfortunate," Nedzu says, "but not exactly surprising. The Quirks in the old days were rather
brutal and gruesome. It makes sense that the Fourth would have had some trouble. And the Second
and Third as well, from what little information we have on them."
"Yes, I also wonder about what their Quirks might be," All Might says. "I suppose the only way to
know is for you to keep training. The risk Danger Sense presents is a setback, but we can still
progress. Perhaps we should increase the volume of training?"
"You do that and that Aizawa fella will get suspicious," Gran says. "He already knows that
something's up. If Midoriya starts training hard right after something dark and mysterious happens
downstairs, he'll only redouble his efforts to figure out what's what."
"We could edit my weight training schedule," Izuku suggests. "If I do more intense workouts less
frequently, I'll be able to use my rest days to work on Danger Sense. It'll look like nothing's
changed, but I'll still be able to train."
"Clever, simple, and doable. What an excellent idea." Nedzu raises his mug of tea in a salute. "That
shall be our plan for the time being. Chiyo, do you have anything to add?"
Recovery Girl remains silent for a moment, looking deep into Izuku's eyes. She doesn't look angry,
or annoyed, or spiteful. Instead, she looks worried, something that scares Izuku like nothing else
could.
"Brain injuries are no joke, young man," she says, lacing her gloved fingers together. "The Fourth
user was right to shock it into your system, but I will reiterate what he said. You do not mess with
the brain. At all. The thing is so delicate, and even if we know a lot about it and have access to the
best healing Quirks in the world, nothing can undo a brain hemorrhage. Or remove the risk of
seizures. Or fix any damage to your memory. We can help a little, but it's impossible to have a do-
over with your brain. And there's often not enough time to try for one, anyways. Hemorrhages can
kill you quickly. The brain can also outright fail to work. There's no escaping that once it sets in.
Do. Not. Push your limits. Understand?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Good. I never want to see you in here for anything head-related other than maybe a concussion.
And even that's pushing it." Recovery Girl hops down from her chair and begins to leave. "And
none of you should encourage him," she adds, glaring at each of his teachers in turn. "I like the idea
of an All Might who knows about all of the danger all of the time as anyone would, but it's not
worth it."
She leaves before anyone can reply. The rest of them sit there in somber silence. The world has
already lost a Symbol in its prime. It will not lose another before it's finished growing.
[x]
Izuku forgets about the photoshoot until he's half in his costume at the agency, ready to head out.
But then Ingenium walks in, casually tells him that they're two minutes behind schedule, and tells
him to hurry up and get ready. They end up going for the studio on foot, or rather on Quirk since
it's faster than any train. It should technically be a crime, but since they're in costume, carrying their
licenses, and report the patrol route to the HPSC, no one can do anything to stop them. They walk
in the front doors exactly on time, sweaty, out of breath, and ready to get to work. The person at
the desk looks at them like they just killed a man and has them ushered away to get cleaned up.
It's not all that surprising, really. Izuku's never had photos taken professionally other than for
school, and neither has Ingenium. And from the way Izuku's… makeup artist? Beautician? Stylist?
Whatever the woman is, she talks his ear off about how bad his whole group is at looking
professional. It's because they're all small-time heroes, Izuku thinks. He knows who'll be in the
shoot, and none of them have had significant media appearances before. They're all in the same
boat as him when it comes to this sort of thing. And that boat appears to be sinking.
Izuku has to shower because he's all sweaty and gross. Then, after he's dried off, the stylist washes
his hair for him, dries it, and puts some kind of product in. He gets a manicure next, and the
woman has a heart attack upon looking at his nails. Izuku tries to explain that wearing gloves all
day is the cause, but she remains convinced that he intentionally messed them up to make her job
harder. Izuku keeps his mouth shut, even though he's pretty sure no one will be looking at his
hands.
Then comes the makeup. Unlike Midnight, they actually put some on. Izuku hates it. The stuff
feels weird on his skin, alters his skin tone, edits the look of his facial structure, and completely
hides his freckles. Then, as though to add insult to injury, the woman takes a brush, puts some kind
of powder on it, and runs her thumb along the bristles. Right in front of Izuku's cheeks and nose.
They (because by that point, the woman had a small team) give him fake freckles when he has real
ones already. And they don't stop with his face.
They have him stand and fix his posture. They check his teeth to make sure they're straight and
white. They give him implants for his shoes so he's taller even though it's completely unnecessary.
And they even take measurements, complaining all the while that he didn't come in for a fitting
earlier. By the time he's herded into a waiting room, he's annoyed. But Ingenium changes that.
Because they dyed his hair.
"Don't say a word," Ingenium orders, shutting off his phone and slipping it into his pocket. Izuku's
eyes stay locked on his hair which is one solid color unlike before where there were some darker
spots among the lighter.
"It looks alright," Izuku says, fighting off the obscene amount of puns that come to mind. It's all
Mirio's doing. He's been spending too much time around him. "But why'd they dye it?"
"Shading or whatever," Ingenium says. "I didn't listen to what they said because it sounded like a
lie."
"Well, the shirts are blue," Izuku says. "Maybe that's why?"
"There's also red and white ones, too," Ingenium points out. "And even if I had to wear a blue shirt,
it's not like it'd be the end of the world. I think the people here just hate us."
"Hate is a… strong word," Izuku says, finding a seat. "But, ah, we're technically not paying the
company, so they're probably not happy with us. I mean, they gave me fake freckles."
"I thought you looked a little weird." Ingenium relaxes in his chair. "You've got this weird glow to
you. Like a girl on prom night."
"Prom?" Izuku asks, not familiar with the term.
"Oh, that's right, you're just a first year student." Ingenium taps his fingers on the armrest of his
chair, thinking for a moment. "It's just a big dance. Schools have them every year in America. All
Might sponsors one for UA, and the third years get all fancy and party for a night. It drives the
teachers nuts, but it's really fun."
"That's interesting."
"Yep. It's kind of a secret thing, though. No one other than UA alums really know." Ingenium
chuckles, clearing remembering something funny. "It's such a secret that the staff has to explain the
whole concept every year. And, uh, since everyone there's an awkward teenager, and there's only
so many chaperones, and since UA is massive…" Ingenium trails off, looking to the side. "Look, if
you ever have to pick between death and sitting through a lesson on safe sex beside Midnight and
Eraserhead given by Recovery Girl, pick the less painful option."
Izuku recoils, cringing as he brings his hand to his mouth in shock and disgust. "That sounds
awful."
"It was. Not that Mic would know. The lucky bastard faked sick that morning 'cause he knew what
was coming." Ingenium laughs as he speaks, though, so he's not mad or anything like that. In fact,
he almost looks fond. "You'll have to suffer through that, too."
"Can I just skip the dance entirely?" Izuku asks.
"Midoriya, you'll be going to the dance," Ingenium says, completely sure of himself. "If you don't
ask someone to it, you'll be asked to it, and I feel like you're the type who'll say yes so as not to hurt
anyone's feelings. Hero students are always popular at UA, so you'll be swimming in offers."
Izuku laughs nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. "Ah… maybe not this one?"
"Hm?" Ingenium cocks his head for the side. "Why—"
"—share a room? I can't even imagine! Don't you know who I am?"
"Ma'am, we had an unexpected booking that took priority over yours. I'm sorry for the
inconveniences, but they'll only last a short while. It's only a one-day shoot."
"Only," a tall, wealthy-looking woman scoffs. The moment she walks through the door, Izuku
straightens his posture and brushes some invisible dust off of his jeans. "One day is eight to ten
business hours. I booked twenty for my daughter's shoot. Half of my time is going to be wasted!"
"I apologize," her usher says again. Izuku can't see them because they're on the other side of the
woman and the door, but they sound tired of dealing with the woman. "We can reimburse—"
"Don't try to make it up to me with money," the woman sneers. "I make more in a day than this
company makes in a month. Give me priority time over your other customers and I might consider
using your business again."
"I'll be sure to let my manager know," the usher says. "In the meantime, please wait. You'll be
alone in a few moments."
The woman sticks up her nose and walks further inside. She looks at Izuku and Ingenium but not
rudely. Both of them are dressed in sweatpants and shirts provided by the company, so it's obvious
that they're models. But she does look angry, almost livid. She looks over her shoulder and jerks
her head. "Come in, Momo. We shouldn't be here for long."
Izuku shares a look with Ingenium. He moves seats to give the mother and her daughter—who
looks about the same as her minus the earrings and a few centimeters of height—some more room.
He awkwardly looks away from them as they sit down, stealing a look at the clock on the wall.
Not that it does anything. As far as he knows, there isn't a schedule for him. He decides to look at
his phone at the same time Ingenium does. Izuku settles on reading a few news articles, and
Ingenium shamelessly starts a game of Tetris with the sound on. Izuku can feel the woman glare at
him, but he does his best to ignore it.
But he can't. He takes a glance up and sees that the daughter is staring at him. He waves to her,
forcing a smile. She freezes for a moment but quickly looks down at the floor, cheeks pink. Izuku
looks at the clock again before continuing to look at his phone. Not ten seconds later, he feels her
looking at him again. Izuku shuts his phone off and slips it into his pocket. He stretches his legs
out and crosses his arms. He looks the girl in the eye. Green meets grey. She coughs and looks
down.
A short while later, another usher comes by to take him and Ingenium. Izuku waves to the girl as
he walks out, catching her wave and blush as he ducks out the door. "Collecting girls now, are we?"
Ingenium teases as they round a corner.
"I just waved to her?" Izuku says, watching the usher stop and press the call button by a set of
elevator doors. "She's probably a fan or something. And I'm single, so, like… Wait, can you even
collect people?"
Ingenium laughs. "You're almost as bad as Tenya. That kid is almost impossible to tease. What you
saw on your first day was a lucky break from me."
"Thanks?"
"You're welcome," Ingenium says, stepping into the elevator car. Izuku follows him. The usher
enters last and hits the button for the top floor. "Being hard to tease can be a good thing. Means
you won't embarrass yourself."
"Yeah. I guess I do that enough already," Izuku says with a thin smile. Ingenium hums but doesn't
reply. The elevator ride is silent except for the music. It's in English, so Izuku only picks up that it's
about getting caught in the rain.
The doors open after a minute and they all step out. Izuku expects to enter a hallway, but instead
there's just a massive room, sort of like the film set back at U.A. There are false walls, lights,
changing stations, staff cameras, and, most importantly, models. Heroes is a more accurate term for
them, though. They mingle with each other, pointing to cameras and telling jokes. Each and every
one of them is completely different from the last. Except for their smiles. All of them smile
brightly and look absolutely ecstatic to be here.
"Follow me," their usher says, cutting off Izuku's train of thought. They don't even check to make
sure that they were heard before walking off towards a director's chair sitting on a raised platform.
"You go ahead and do that, Mister Influencer," Ingenium says, clapping Izuku on the back. "I see a
few old underclassmen I need to make fun of. See you in a sec!"
Izuku watches as Ingenium hurries across the room and greets one of the heroes with a slap on the
butt. He gets one back in return along with a halfhearted jab to the face. The whole group of people
laughs. Izuku looks back at the director's chair. He starts to walk over, slowing down as he does.
It's weird seeing heroes out of costume, even more so when he can't tell who they are. He thinks he
recognizes Hammerhead, a hero who specializes in aquatic combat, but it's too hard to tell without
seeing his trademarked (but not really trademarked since he's never been ranked) pointed smile.
"Ah, he's here!" Izuku looks up at the director's chair which has swiveled to reveal a woman in her
late thirties or early forties. She wears a simple black v-neck and jeans, but her hair is a wild, spiky
blonde. Her eyes are red and her smile is almost predatory. She hops off of her chair and extends a
hand. "Midoriya Izuku, right?"
"Yeah," Izuku says, taking the hand. "And you are?"
"Just call me Mitsuki," she says, her smile growing. He releases his hand. "Mind if I get a picture
with you? My son's a big fan and I wanna make him jealous."
"Sure."
"Perfect, perfect." Mitsuki moves so she's standing right next to Izuku. She loops an arm around his
shoulders and holds up her phone. Izuku smiles and tries not to think about the last time he took a
picture with a fan. "Selfie!"
"I can write an autograph for him, too," Izuku says as Mitsuki types on her phone.
"Nah, that's alright." She slips it into her pocket. "The little shit got caught sneaking out of the
house, so he's grounded. Getting him an autograph would defeat the purpose of his punishment."
"Oh. Okay." Izuku fidgets for a second. "So, when do we start?"
"Right now." Mitsuki cups her hands around her mouth and shouts, "Get set! We were supposed to
start ten minutes ago!" Everyone freezes at once, and the staff starts to grab random heroes to drag
off to sets. Izuku watches as a man with a camera guides Ingenium over to a set with a bench and
shoves him behind a nearby curtain to change.
"You'll have time to socialize later," Mitsuki says, pointing to a set of three walls. "That'll be your
first station: full body shots. One of our gals has a case with all of your outfits. Just put them on
and do as you're told. Alright?"
"Alright."
"Good. Now scram!"
Izuku puts the clothes on and does exactly what the cameraman says. But the clothes are too tight.
To a stupid degree. The definition of his chest shows through and he's pretty sure the thing is way
too short since it just barely reaches his belt. And the pants—there's no way real people can wear
pants like that. They're practically a second skin. And they're jeans, too, which doesn't help. They
even make him take off his necklace which should be a minor inconvenience, but it ends up
throwing his ability to focus out the window.
"Now tilt your head down. A little more. A little more. Too far. Now to the right. Good. Smile. Not
like that! That's the smile you give villains. Smile like you wanna have fun. Okay, don't smile."
All of the stations go like that. Izuku has his makeup reapplied what feels like a hundred times, and
he's coached on how to smile a hundred more. He resists the urge to tell everyone that he wouldn't
have a problem smiling if he were actually happy, and he keeps that thought and all the others like
it to himself. He sucks it up and tries to enjoy the way the merch looks because it's all really cool.
There are long sleeves with hero names across the back, tank tops with slogans, sweatpants with
costume motifs, and t-shirts with heroes in dynamic poses. There are even scarves and hats, all of
which have Plus Ultra written on them in bold white lettering.
By the time he's done modeling, Izuku feels a bit better. A few of the older pros wave to him and
talk about how cool his moves are. He gets lots of high-fives, and there are even a couple of shots
of Izuku posing with them. He holds some of the smaller heroes over his head, fake-arm-wrestles
with one of the bigger guys, and does a handstand with a hero known for their gymnastics.
"All right, all right!" Mitsuki calls, waving her hands over her head from on top of the platform.
"Nice work, everyone! Those should all be edited and finished within the week! But I've been told
by your… particular benefactor that there is to be one final shot. Who here is the strongest?" There
are some mutters in the crowd of pros, and few arguments break out over who can kick whose ass.
"Physically, I mean," Mitsuki corrects. "I don't care about skill right now. I need, like, three of you
to lift the rest of you guys up for a stunt."
"Oh, that's easy," Ingenium says. "Deku and Piledriver can do that easily."
"I don't know about that," a large, dark-skinned man says with a laugh. "How much do you guys
weigh?"
"That's a rather rude question to ask a bunch of ladies," one of the heroines says.
Piledriver raises an eyebrow. "Then it's a good thing there aren't any around."
"Oh, shit!"
"Alright, settle down," Mitsuki orders before laughter can break out. "Can you two do it or not?"
Piledriver looks at Izuku. "The kid could probably do it himself."
"Yeah, but that'd look pretentious and make him seem egotistical," Mitsuki says. "That's not what
we're going for. We want badass. You two should stretch or whatever to get ready. Everyone else
to that corner. The platform will be here in a moment."
The group disperses, leaving Izuku alone with Piledriver and a few workers. The older man wastes
no time and starts to stretch by crossing his arm over his chest. Izuku stands on one foot and grabs
his ankle, pulling the heel of his foot to his butt. A small current of One for All can technically do
everything stretching can in a fraction of the time, but it would be awkward to just stand while
Piledriver stretches.
"How old are you?" Piledriver asks, switching to his other arm.
"Sixteen," Izuku says, switching to his other leg.
"Sixteen? Jeez." Piledriver shakes his head in disbelief. "You're good for that age. When I was a
first year, I was awful. My Quirk was alright, but I was bad at using it."
"What is your Quirk?" Izuku asks.
"Ground King," Piledriver replies. "The amount of strength I have is equal to the amount of force
the object I'm standing on can take without breaking."
"Wait, but if you were touching solid earth, wouldn't you be unstoppable?"
"Nope. I'd be as strong as the dirt. Or the stone. Or the cement." Piledriver rolls his shoulders and
leans to one side. "Anyways, what's yours?"
"I, uh… it's complicated?" Izuku says, crossing one leg over the other and bending down to touch
his toes.
"I'm just messing with you. I know what you can do. We all do, really." Piledriver cracks his neck
and shakes out each of his legs. "You ready to go?"
"Sure," Izuku says, standing.
"Nice." Piledriver starts to walk over to the group of people who are all huddled around a large
barbell with platforms on either side. Izuku tries not to think of how small he is next to the man—
he only comes up to Piledriver's shoulder. "I like your makeup, by the way."
"Thanks. I don't."
Piledriver chuckles. "Yeah, that's a common sentiment here. But one I don't have."
"Do you like yours?" Izuku asks.
"I don't actually have any on. Thanks for complimenting my flawless skin," Piledriver says with a
smirk. "The stylists here didn't have any that matched my skin tone, so I lucked out. Oh, man, you
should've seen the look on my stylist's face when she tried to figure out what to do with my hair!"
"They washed mine and loaded it with product," Izuku says, tugging at a strand. "It feels wrong."
"We'll be outta here in a sec," Piledriver says as they start to cut through the crowd of people to get
to the bar. "I'm sure everything will wash out easy."
"Yeah."
"Okay, everybody! Here's our plan." Mitsuki holds one arm out in front of her as she stands before
the crowd of heroes. "Half of you on this side of me, half on the other. Ideally, the weight on each
half should be equal. You may get on when you're ready."
It takes a minute or so, but everyone steps on one of the two platforms. Except for the lifters.
"Good! Now, you two"—Mitsuki points to Izuku and Piledriver—"get set. You'll lift when I say
go."
"Got it!" Izuku calls, stepping over the bar so it's between him and Mitsuki. Piledriver joins him
and bends down to pick up the bar.
"This won't work," he says. "You're too short and I'm too tall. It'll look weird, especially if we try
to put it over our heads. I'll be doing all the work."
Izuku thinks for a moment. With barely a thought, he starts to float in the air. Piledriver stands and
finds that they're at eye level with each other. "Go for a clean and jerk," Izuku says. "A smooth
one, though. We don't want to scare them. I'll keep off the ground but I'll still be lifting weight.
Ready?"
Piledriver smiles. "Ready. Remember to smile!"
They lift the bar up to their hips, then to their shoulders, and finally above their heads. Cameras
flash, catching every second of the pose. They hold at the top for a while before gently setting the
bar back down. Everyone cheers after that, crowding around them and offering pats on the back.
There are smiles all around.
Someone mentions getting lunch. Most of the heroes agree, so they completely book a nearby bar.
Everyone takes their makeup off before going, and most wear their costumes for the hell of it. The
waitstaff works double-time trying to keep all forty-two of them fed and watered, and the TVs in
the dining room are constantly changing. Someone starts an arm-wrestling tournament which
Izuku places fourth in. There are also drinking games which he avoids, but plenty of people joke
about him being the designated flyer.
Everything calms down after a few hours and people start to trickle out. But not everyone. Five or
so, plus Izuku and Ingenium, settle down in a booth and talk. Most of it's nonsense about work or
family life, but as time goes on, and the adults gradually get more and more inebriated, the stories
get wilder and wilder.
"Yeah, I cheated on my final first year. The practical, not the written. I actually got an award for it
because no one figured me out until the start of second year. I still have the plaque on the wall."
"That's nothing. You guys remember that week where the communicators played Never Gonna
Give You Up at random intervals? That was me and Hood."
"I call bullshit. There is no way you were smart enough to rig something like that up at fifteen."
"Sixteen, actually, and, uh… I Googled how to do it. There's a WikiHow article, you know."
"WikiHow got me through first aid class."
"Same. Recovery Girl was a good teacher, but I was an awful student."
"I think most of us here were. Expect Iida."
"That's because I actually studied. Unlike some people."
"I studied. Just for the wrong classes. Doing hero exercises every day was hard, so I was always
worn out. I got better by second year."
"Oh, man, our second year was way better than the first."
"That's how it is for everybody. The first year's always boring and focused on conditioning.
Second year, you actually get to have fun."
"Yeah, but second year was when me, Aki, Kai, and Xiu were all in school together. The shit we
pulled…"
"We rigged the voting for the beauty pageant that year."
"Wait, wait, wait… that would've been my third year, which is the year I placed last in the pageant.
I remember crying because I lost to a first year support student."
"How mad would you be if you found out that I had a crush on that first year?"
"I would be livid."
"Yeah, then I thought she was ugly."
"You're all awful people."
"Nah, we're heroes! Cheers?"
"Sure! Cheers!"
Glass clink together, and even Izuku joins in with his glass of ice water. Everyone drinks, some
more than others. The glasses are set down with cheerful smiles.
"What about you?" one of them asks Izuku. "You're a first year student, but I'll bet you've got some
cool UA stories."
"Uh, I kicked All Might in the crotch and made him swear in English," Izuku says. "But I don't
know if that's what you're looking for."
The person that asked raises their hands in surrender. "Alright, that's it. We're done for the night.
The little guy had the best story. Sorry everyone, do your drinking at home for the rest of the
night."
Izuku laughs along with the rest of the table. "Thanks. It's really fun listening to you guys talk."
"You're getting five—no, shit, ten year old gossip," one of them says. "It's only funny 'cause we're
all acting like idiots."
"They say that great minds are greater when they're together," one chimes in. "That also means that
stupid people are even stupider when in large groups."
"You've had too much to drink, man. Cool it with the sake."
"Yeah, yeah, gotta keep my liver intact 'n all."
"Anyways, how do you like UA so far?"
"Oh, uh, it's great," Izuku says, taking a second to realize that it's him they're talking to. "I'm
learning a lot, and everyone there with me is really awesome."
"I bet," one of them says, nodding. "Enjoy it while it lasts. High school won't be the best time of
your life, but it shouldn't be the worst. Just try to relax and have fun. You're in one of the best
schools ever, hanging out with future top pros on the daily. Don't worry about the exams."
"This's coming from the guy who almost failed homeroom."
"That was one year! One year! And I was working forty hours on top of school!"
There's a round of laughter and the conversation starts to die down. Everyone leaves a few minutes
later. There are lots of reminders to call in sick for work the next morning and to text someone
when they get home. Izuku is thanked by all of them for setting up the photoshoot and the
gathering. He and Ingenium leave last, taking the bus back to the agency.
Izuku gets home at ten that night feeling tired but refreshed at the same time. He tells his mother
all about the shoot before he eats, showers, and knits until he falls asleep. He doesn't dream at all.
Just how he likes it.
[x]
"Jin, would you care to explain why your friend is passed out on my floor?"
Twice clears his throat and looks away from All for One. "Y'see, she, ah… was a tad—the girl
didn't want to come with, so I—" Twice mimes swinging a baseball bat and whistles. "And then I
dragged her here. She's kinda heavy."
"Charming." All for One rises from his seat, dragging dozens of medical tubes with him. Twice
takes a step back but keeps his posture strong. He's subservient to All for One, but he's not afraid.
It's the perfect way for an underling to view an overlord, and All for One takes no small amount of
pleasure in having a loyal, competent worker under his thumb. "Well, she's not dead or concussed
—a small miracle considering the lump on her head." All for One stands up and removes his hand
from the girl's forehead.
"I, uh, didn't hit her as hard as I could've. I didn't want to kill my friend. Just knock her out,
y'know?"
"Yes," All for One says, calmly sending a message to the doctor with the keypad on his armrest.
"Jin, would you mind leaving us alone? I'd like to talk to her. I'll call you back in a few minutes."
"She's out cold—do you like talking to corpses or something? How disgusting."
"Corpses are almost never entertaining. Almost." All for One gestures to the door. "I have ways of
waking her, Jin. You've seen me in action."
"Right, right. I'll be back in a jiff. Go fuck yourself!" Twice walks out of the door but not down the
hall. He presses his ear up against the metal of the door. But All for One doesn't care much.
"Young Toga," All for One says, testing the name. "Or perhaps Himiko would be better… let's see,
shall we?"
A bright yellow tendril extends from his index finger. It shoots across the room and stabs into the
girl's neck. Her eyes open with a gasp, and All for One retracts the line. "Where am I?" She jumps
up and crouches low. Her hands pat her clothes down, searching for a weapon. Her eyes inevitably
land on him and his chair, and she flares. "Who are you?"
"In good time," All for One says, raising a hand to calm her down. "I will tell you soon. Just know
that you are safe here."
Himiko's eyes narrow. She clearly doesn't believe him, which is a shame. She really is safe here.
No one short of All Might would be able to break in, and their location is very unsuspecting. "Tell
me who you are and where I am. Now."
"No."
The girl flicks a knife out of her sleeve and rushes him. All for One smiles and lets the knife hit his
throat. It shatters on impact, and one of the bits of metal cuts Himiko's cheek. All for One stands.
He grabs her by the throat and holds her aloft.
"You are safe here. Just not from me. If you try to kill anyone I consider an ally, I will kill you.
Understand?" Himiko freezes and finds that she is unable to answer. All for One lets go and
watches her collapse onto the floor.
She coughs, scratching at her throat. "What do you want?"
"You, my dear."
Himiko crinkles her nose in disgust. "Try anything and I'll slit your throat in your sleep. I don't care
that you have unbreakable skin, I'll find a way."
All for One laughs, sitting back down in his chair with a smile. "No, no, you misunderstood. I want
you to work for me. I offer full health benefits, two month's paid vacation, one month's sick time,
and handsome pay."
"If I wanted to sell my soul to a bastard, I'd go work at the supermarket downtown," Himiko spits.
"Now let me go—"
"Or what?" All for One asks. "You can't kill me. You can't escape. Your only option is to work for
me."
"I'll run off on my first job."
"No, you won't. Would you like to know why?" Himiko glares. All for One takes it as a signal to
continue. "This is why," he says, waving a hand out in front of him. On cue, a screen slides down
from the ceiling. It blinks on and begins to play a slideshow. Each and every picture is of Midoriya
Izuku. Most are basic ones taken by fans or for school, but a few catch him in action. Villains lay
bound in Blackwhip, a battle-hungry smile playing on his face, and One for All leaks off of him in
the form of green electricity. The screen changes to show him in a crowd, head thrown back in pain
and blood pouring out of his stomach. Himiko's breath hitches.
"H-how…"
"I can give him to you," All for One says. "Unless you don't want him?"
"No!" Himiko flinches at the volume of her own voice. "I… I don't know."
"Are you sure?" The screen changes to show Midoriya drenched in blood on the roof of a hospital.
He's smiling.
"No…"
"That's alright. You have time to think. But just know," All for One says, spreading his arms, "that
if you work for me, he'll be yours once I'm finished with him."
"I don't like to share."
"And you won't. I care not for his body, mind, or spirit. Only for his Quirk. Once I have that, he is
yours."
"I-I-I'm sorry, but I can't help you." Himiko starts to shake, her eyes welling up. "I… he can't be
mine. He wouldn't… he wouldn't love me for who I am. I… I'm not his type!"
"Oh, my girl." All for One stands as Himiko collapses into a sobbing mess. He approaches her
slowly and kneels down in front of her, cupping her chin with one hand. "I can help you with that.
You won't have to worry about not being his type if you follow me."
"Y-you promise?"
"I do."
Himiko leaves in the arms of Twice a few minutes later. In her place, the doctor walks in.
"Eavesdropping again?"
"I was far from the only one, my lord."
"Ah, but I was at least aware of Twice. You, however, listened in without my consent or
knowledge."
"Of course, my apologies?"
"You may live to see another day."
"Hm." There's a pause. "You were soft on her."
"I was soft on Twice and Tomura."
"No. You were reasonable with them. You promised to hold her hand the whole way through her
part in our plans."
"Young Himiko needs it. She lacks the experience or know-how to be a proper villain."
"I think that you're biased."
"Why, Doctor," All for One says with a laugh. "Of course I am! You'll have to forgive a man for
wanting to spoil his granddaughter…"
Chapter End Notes
Dad for One? No, no, no, no. GRANDAD for One. But for Toga and not at all a good
thing. I hope you enjoyed, cheers!
Getting Started
Chapter Notes
As of August 8, 2021 this chapter has been edited by my beta.
The blindfold is completely soaked in sweat. It sticks to his brow and cheeks and refuses to peel
away from his eyes. The knot behind his head is tight and secure but is slightly uncomfortable. Just
like the rest of the cloth. It makes it hard to concentrate, which is pretty important right now
because he's trying not to die.
Something hard and cold slams into the side of his head, knocking him off balance and sending
him crashing into the hard floor below. "Duck, you moron! Good grief, you coulda figured out
where it was going without that fancy Quirk!"
Okay, avoiding death is a slight exaggeration. Avoiding injury and ridicule, however, is still a top
priority.
Izuku dives to one side and kicks off the floor. He twists in the air, straining his ears to hear
projectiles whistling through the air. There aren't any. He reaches for Danger Sense, picturing a
shield around him. In doing so, his focus is broken for just a split second. It's just enough time for
him to miss six of them shoot at once, and he takes four of them head-on. The other two whistle
past his head, and Izuku begrudgingly admits defeat, floating down to the floor. He takes off the
blindfold.
"Why couldn't we have started slower?" Izuku asks, wringing the blindfold out. Sweat drips onto
the floor in a gross puddle, and Izuku curses whoever cranked the heat up. "I'm dying out there."
"I am a firm believer in sink or swim teaching," Gran says, kicking one of the (metal, which is
awful) balls with his foot. It rolls a few feet before stopping. "And battle is chaotic. If you're going
to be using a power like that, it'll be even worse. You need to get used to lots of different threats
being present at once."
"Yeah, but it takes a second to turn on," Izuku says, walking over to his water bottle and picking it
up. "There's a lag, and it's also tiring to keep on, so I have to turn it off eventually to catch a break."
He takes a drink.
"Don't fry your head," Gran warns. "If you start to feel off, take a breather. But it shouldn't be
doing this if you're just focusing on yourself, yeah?"
Izuku shrugs as he sets his water down. "One for All is stronger and harder to keep a handle on
now than it was decades ago. Blackwhip is, too. So is Float. Danger Sense is probably the same. I
just need to get used to holding it and using the right amount."
"You are only covering a single floor," Gran says, walking over to one of the machines they rented
from U.A and flicking the switch off and on again. "It's not like how it was on the street. Don't let
it sense the area outside of this room. It's good practice for control."
"It'd be better if I could work up to that," Izuku says. "We should be doing this in a small room
with one machine first. Then I'd really get a feel for how much to use in different areas."
"Remind me again of who told me that he lives by the Plus Ultra motto?" Gran asks. Izuku stares
at him for a moment.
"I feel that phrase has backfired more than it's helped," Izuku says, bringing the blindfold back up
to his eyes in submission to Gran's tactics.
"That's because it has. And don't put that thing on until you've loaded the launchers." Gran kicks
another ball to prove his point.
Izuku sighs and holds out a hand to let Blackwhip do the work. As he does, Gran excuses himself
and walks downstairs. Once he's done loading the machines, Izuku fiddles with the blindfold for a
moment, patting his pocket out of habit. He's been texting Nejire more and more recently. It's nice,
but it's had the weird effect of making him miss his phone more than usual.
"Put these on."
A pair of heavy-duty earmuffs hit Izuku in the face. He catches them before they hit the floor and
gives them a shake. "How old are these?" he asks, because they're absolutely ancient-looking.
"That company went bankrupt three decades ago," Gran says. "That's how old. And they still work
good because companies didn't go for all of that planned obsolescence shit back then like they do
nowadays."
"If you say so," Izuku says, slipping the earmuffs over his head. They're surprisingly comfy and
snug, considering that their exterior is all old and worn out. "Do you think they'll stay on? Woah!"
Izuku reaches up and touches the ear cups, because he can barely hear his own voice. He looks at
Gran and sees him saying something. But not a sound comes through the muffs. Izuku points to his
head, shrugs, and slips the blindfold on. He prepares to activate Danger Sense, but before he does,
a ball slams into his ribs.
Izuku swears and flails his arms in front of him, trying to block any other shots that might be
coming. He rips off the blindfold and the earmuffs and looks at Gran in a mix of shock and anger.
"I wasn't ready!"
Gran raises an eyebrow. "Evil doesn't wait until you're ready, so neither will I."
"It's no wonder why All Might's so dramatic," Izuku mumbles.
"What was that?"
"Nothing! Just give me a second and we can go!"
Izuku ignores Gran's snort of amusement and slips the earmuffs back on. He waits to tie the
blindfold, however, choosing to turn One for All on first and get halfway done with tapping into
Danger Sense before doing the knot. By the time the black cloth is secure over his eyes, Izuku is in
tune with the danger around him. He feels the machine directly behind him and leaps into the air.
The Quirk tells him that he's in danger of hitting the ceiling, so Izuku spins mid-air and lands on it
with balled feet and bent knees. The hairs on his arms stand on end, and Izuku pushes off in time to
dodge a few balls.
The air parts around him as he moves, though it lacks the familiar whoosh and eye-drying wind.
Izuku tucks into a roll and pops back up, backflipping over another ball and landing on the palms
of his hands. He arches his back, weaving out of the way of two more before allowing himself to
fall back onto his feet. Braced for impact, he waits for the next launch.
Izuku knows what's going to happen moments before it does. It's almost like he can see it in his
mind's eye, the future unraveling before him. But it's not quite there. It's a feeling, an instinct. Like
when he practices fighting in unsteady buildings at school. On the surface, everything is normal.
But in his gut, he knows that something will happen soon. It's just a matter of when and what. With
Danger Sense, however, the when and what are handed to him on a silver platter.
Izuku roundhouse kicks a ball away, catching another in his right hand and deflecting two more.
He hits the ground, sliding under a volley of five. There's a machine right in front of him, ready to
let everything it has rip. Izuku keeps moving forward, playing a game of chicken. He feels the
moment before it fires, and spins out of the way. He also feels when Gran turns the difficulty up on
all of the launchers.
Three shoot at once, one where he is and one to either side of him. Izuku jumps, clearing all of the
projectiles and preparing for more evasive actions. One strand of Blackwhip pulls him into a corner
which he quickly kicks out of. He bounces off the floor and to another wall, starting a string of
ricochets. The goal is to make it hard for the machines to properly predict his patterns of
movement. It's technically against the spirit of the exercise, but the balls start coming faster and
faster, and in greater numbers. If Izuku were to be reactive instead of proactive, he'd get
overwhelmed in an instant.
And even now, it's a close thing. He feels the balls brush past his hair. His lighting reaches out and
crackles against the metal projectiles, creating an electric connection that stings his skin and
occupies his mind. He starts to lose his feel for the room. He nearly crashes into a column and has
to spin to avoid a protrusion of concrete. His dashes become more and more simple as he abandons
complexity for speed. Instead of trying to plan out his moves, he's forced to make split-second
decisions. For all he wanted to avoid reacting to the balls, the machines are trying to force his hand
with more effort and success than he can manage.
With a roll, Izuku lands on the ground again. He jumps, ducks, rolls, dives, twists around the balls.
He tries to launch off again, but there are too many for him to find a clear opening. He's forced to
stay in the same spot, blocking and deflecting enough balls to keep afloat for a while longer. But he
can't last forever.
Once catches him in the forearm. He takes two to his chest. One particularly fast one hits him right
on his only big toe. Izuku stumbles, desperately trying to regain his balance. A ball nails him right
in his ribs, forcing him down. He curls into a ball, covering his head and waiting for Gran to kill
the machines. It takes a moment, but eventually the launchers stop firing and the danger fades.
Izuku pulls off the earmuffs and the blindfold and stands, massaging his arm.
"Not awful for the second go-around," Gran says, walking over and bringing him his water. Izuku
takes it and chugs the rest of it in one go. He looks over the room once he's done and finds that a
few of the balls are literally embedded in the wall.
"So there'll be another one today?" Izuku asks. "I have to be at school by seven-thirty, so you can't
keep me here forever."
"I know. That's why you won't be doing the same thing." Gran picks up one of the balls and places
it in the nearest machine. "It'll just be one of these. I'll be behind it with my finger near the button.
Your goal is to tell if you're in danger, and how much danger you're in."
"I thought you believed in sink or swim methods," Izuku says.

"I'll be randomly pushing the button, and if I feel like it, I'll attack you."
"Ah," Izuku says, eyeing the machine with newfound caution. "I guess I should load it up again,
huh."
"Unless you want me to throw out my back lifting an ass load of these, then yes. And make it
snappy! You've got young bones!"
Izuku doesn't even use his bones. Instead, he has Blackwhip do all the work again before standing
in front of the machine, point-blank. "Do I—"
"Turn around and put your stuff back on. Hold your arm out to the side and put up fingers as you
feel more danger. If you need to dodge, dodge."
Izuku nods, getting into position. It feels wrong just standing there with a weapon aimed directly at
his back, and he doesn't even need Danger Sense to tell him that there's risk in it. But when he turns
the Quirk on, a weight slams into his mind. Gran's finger is on the button. Izuku holds up five
fingers. Gran pushes the button and Izuku ducks, feeling the ball cause his hair to riffle. The
danger disappears after that, and Izuku knows that Gran has stepped away from the machine. He
holds up a fist.
They go back and forth like that for a while. Izuku gets a better feel for the reaction time of the
Quirk. It's almost instant, but only when he's in immediate danger. When Gran's finger starts to
push the button down, he feels it. If Gran is a few paces away from the machine, there's nothing.
But as soon as he takes a step towards it, shivers go down Izuku's spine.
They finish up around six-thirty. Izuku packs everything away, says goodbye to Gran, and goes
home to get ready for school. He tries not to think about the fact that his date is only twelve hours
away.
[x]
It's somehow more stressful and less stressful than last time. This time, he at least knows what he
should wear—something nice but also casual. But he's also burdened with the knowledge that this
is an actual date and not just a casual dinner. It's enough to make him dig through his whole closet
three times looking for a t-shirt he knows looks good on him and isn't one of the stupid shirt shirts
or one of the derivatives of them. And when he finds it, he tries it on and finds that it's way too
small. He flexes his arms and the seams literally burst.
He was tiny in middle school. It's a weird time to realize it, but it's true. Most of his clothes from
just over a year ago don't fit at all. Even the baggy sweatpants are too tight in the thighs. It's good
to see progress, but it's frustrating to toss out half of his clothes when he should be getting ready for
a date. Which still hasn't sunken in yet. A date.
Izuku sighs as he finally finds a good shirt for the night. It's not the same v-neck as last time—if it
was, his mother would probably make him change. Not that he'd be against that. But this time, he
wears a snug, white long sleeve with a subtle design on the chest. His necklace hangs over the shirt,
uncovered by the heavy zip-up hoodie he has on. His jeans are comfortable and his shoes are as red
and shiny as ever. Most importantly, though, he's warm. It's not awfully cold, but the temperature
is starting to dip low enough at night that he doesn't want to be caught outside without a jacket. He
grabs a scarf as well, though it isn't needed or even for him; he can keep warm, and the color really
isn't his style. But it's for Nejire, and it needs a place to stay, so on his neck it rests.
After saying goodbye to his mother, Izuku walks to the train station. As he takes a seat, something
dawns on him. He's going to Nejire's house. To pick her up. For a date. With her father there. He
shouldn't be nervous. He's fought villains, monsters, and made it through over half a year at U.A.
He's got a license—an actual, real hero license that says he's strong enough to fight for real and
save lives. And yet, he's afraid of a hypothetical conversation with Nejire's dad.
But that hypothetical becomes an inevitable when Izuku arrives at Nejire's house, knocks on the
door, and comes face to face with Mr. Hado. It's not fair, really. Or maybe it is, but it doesn't feel
that way. Izuku just wants to go to the fair, but now he's looking into the tired eyes of Nejire's dad.
"You're early," he says, leaning against the frame. Izuku resists the urge to take a step back.
"Better early than later, right?" Izuku says, hiding a nervous chuckle. "Uh, is Nejire ready?"
"You're early," he repeats, and yeah, that kinda answers the question. "Come in."
Izuku mutters a quick "Thank you" before stepping in. Mr. Hado shuts the door behind him and
walks past into what must be the living room. Or maybe it's the den? Izuku feels like the house is
big enough to have a den. Not that it's important. Izuku tries to forget about that small dilemma as
he follows Mr. Hado into a different room, but it comes right back to the front of his mind.
It's definitely a den. There's a large amount of plush and expensive-looking furniture arranged
around a coffee table. There's a fireplace, and, above it, a widescreen TV. A mini-fridge sits in one
corner next to a shelf of wine bottles. A counter runs along one wall of the room, the top an
expensive-looking marble. Izuku awkwardly stands by a leather recliner, not wanting to be the first
to sit.
"Would you like a drink?" Mr. Hado asks, walking over to the wine.
"Water," Izuku says as he starts to pour a glass. "Water is just fine."
Mr. Hado grunts as he tops off his glass. He sets it down on an end table along with the bottle. He
walks over to the mini-fridge and bends down to pull out a can of something. He tosses it behind
his back, and Izuku reaches out to catch it. The can slips out of his hand and starts to fall to the
floor. He has to cast a whip out from his pinky to save it from crashing into the ground, but he does
so before Mr. Hado can turn around. Izuku tries not to let out a breath of relief.
"Nice catch," Mr. Hado says, sitting down with his drink.
"Y-yeah." Izuku takes a seat on the recliner. He sinks into the thing, the worn leather forming
around his legs and back. He looks up and unintentionally locks eyes with the man across from
him. Izuku coughs and carefully pulls the tab on the can of sparkling water. It lets out a hiss, and
Izuku thanks whatever higher power is watching that it doesn't spray out everywhere. He raises the
can to his lips and takes a sip. And almost spits it out.
"How is it?" Mr. Hado asks, taking a drink of his own.
"Good. It… it's got really good flavor." It doesn't. The stuff tastes like someone let orange juice get
up to room temperature, spoil, and then let it chill in the fridge for a few weeks. It also has a
lingering aftertaste, so Izuku has to sit there trying to fight against making a sour expression.
"I think so too." Mr. Hado sets his wine on the coffee table. He stares at Izuku, who forces himself
to take another drink so the eye contact doesn't last. "Nice scarf."
"Thanks," Izuku says, swallowing. He silently curses himself for not taking it or his coat off. He
probably looks really impolite. "I, um, I made it myself."
"Interesting," Mr. Hado says as Izuku takes another drink. "What are your intentions with my
daughter?"
Izuku almost does a spit take. Almost. He's pretty sure a little bit of… of whatever is in that can
leaks from his lips, so he quickly swallows and wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.
"I, uh, er… well, we're just going to the festival or whatever, right?" Izuku says, trying to look
away. But his eyes lock with Mr. Hado's and he can't look anywhere else no matter how hard he
tries. The man does not look impressed. "Just a… just a quick outing for some fun!"
"You'll have her home by ten, then."
"I'll try," Izuku says without thinking. Nejire hadn't even mentioned what time they'd be going
home; he just kinda figured they'd try not to be too late.
"You'll try?" Mr. Hado raises an eyebrow and takes a sip of wine.
"I mean, it's a cultural festival, right?" Izuku forces down another drink from his can. "It goes until,
like, two AM. And, uh, we might do something after we leave the school grounds."
"And what might that be?"
Izuku suddenly realizes what hole he's dug for himself. "Ten PM sounds great to me," he says,
desperately trying to avoid being buried both literally and figuratively. Mr. Hado doesn't look mad
per se, but his perfectly neutral expression feels slightly predatory. And familiar, in some weird
way. "I have weight training to do in the morning, so, uh, this'll have to be quick, I guess?"
"My daughter isn't worth rearranging your schedule for, then."
"That's not what I said!"
"Then what did you say?"
"I just want to have fun with Nejire tonight," Izuku says. "And, yeah, I like her, but I'm not going to
do anything gross or weird, I swear!"
Mr. Hado blinks and takes another drink of wine. "How's school?" Izuku feels his mouth drop. Mr.
Hado pretends not to notice and says, "Well? Nejire never shuts up about you. I'd like to know you
better."
Izuku stares for a long while. Mr. Hado continues to act like the past two minutes didn't happen.
"It's… good."
"Good." Mr. Hado finishes his drink and stands. "Try not to stay out past midnight, and keep
warm. Walk her home, too."
"What?" Izuku asks as a set of footsteps starts to come downstairs on the other side of the house.
"Dad, I'm ready!" Nejire calls. Izuku can tell she's jogging through the house. "Is Izuku here ye—
oh." She appears in the doorway, wearing his jacket and a snug blue tank top over jeans and
combat boots. Izuku tries not to stare. He fails. Nejire raises an eyebrow. "Were you two having
fun?"
"It's rude not to entertain your guests," Mr. Hado says, shrugging. "Was I supposed to let him wait
outside in the cold?"
Nejire looks like she seriously wants to say yes, but she thinks better of it. "C'mon, Izuku. Let's go."
Izuku stands and downs the rest of his drink. It's awful, but he doesn't want to waste it or look bad.
When he's done, he looks over to Nejire and sees that she's staring at him, wide-eyed. Izuku looks
over his shoulder and then back at Mr. Hado, whose eyes seem to twinkle just a little. "Sure," he
says, awkwardly tossing the empty can between his hands. "Uh… see ya?"
Mr. Hado takes the can from Izuku's hands and looks his daughter over. "Home by ten."
Nejire snorts. "It's Friday. We're heroes in training. Licensed heroes in training. We're both at the
top of the UA rankings in terms of strength. I will text you where we are and when I will be
heading home. I will not be out later than one AM."
"That's pushing it," Mr. Hado warns.
"Yeah, that's why I'll be back before then," Nejire says. "We'll be going now. Bye."
Izuku waves as Nejire guides him out the door, completely confused as to what just happened.
Once they're out on the front porch and the door is closed, Nejire wraps him up in a hug. It's a little
weird, since her boots give her a few extra centimeters, but it's still nice.
"Sorry about him," she murmurs into her scarf. "He's… he can be an ass."
"It wasn't that bad," Izuku says. "Just a little uncomfortable and a lot confusing."
"That's his MO. He probably would've asked you more questions, but I kinda told him a lot about
you so he'd be more relaxed. I… I get my curiosity from him, I guess. It's not always a great thing."
She pulls away and tugs on the sleeves of her (his?) jacket.
"It's not a bad thing," Izuku says. "There's nothing wrong with asking questions. How else could
you know more?"
Nejire smiles. "Thanks. Wanna get walking?"
"Sure, but first—" Izuku reaches up to his neck and unravels the scarf. He hands it to Nejire.
"Here."
"Oh!" Nejire feels the wool yarn with her hands. "It's really soft! Where'd you get it from?"
"I, uh, I made it," Izuku says, a little red in the face.
"Really?" Izuku nods. "That's amazing! How long did it take?" Nejire quickly starts to wrap the
scarf around her but finds that she doesn't like how it fits. She shrugs her (his, Izuku has to remind
himself) jacket off. "Hold this, please!"
Izuku takes the jacket and watches as Nejire ties the scarf in a simple knot and loops the extra cloth
around her neck. "It took me a while to learn, and that piece was probably two or three month's
work. I, uh, I had to restart a few times."
"It's still really great," Nejire says, taking back the jacket and putting it on. "Like, you picked
amazing yarn for it, and the stitch size is just right for winter and fall."
"Thanks," Izuku says, admiring how good she looks in his jacket and scarf. "Do you knit?"
"My mom did," Nejire says, tactfully looking away. "Probably still does, actually, but that's not
important. The train is, though! Let's get moving!"
They start to walk to the station, and Nejire takes his hand. Izuku smiles and gives it a light
squeeze. She squeezes back, and he tries to hide how he smiles even wider. It's pointless since she
catches how his teeth flash for just a moment before he covers his mouth with his other hand.
Nejire giggles and draws herself closer to him, letting go of his hand and looping an arm around his
waist. She takes the hand she was holding and guides his arm over her shoulders before leaning her
head into his.
"You're warm."
"You too," Izuku says, torn between looking down at her and looking forward. He settles for
looking at Nejire and nearly trips over a crack as his eyes meet hers. They both stumble forward,
but Izuku regains his balance almost immediately. Nejire does too, but that doesn't stop him from
tightening his hold on her.
"Let's look where we're walking, yeah?" Nejire says with a giggle. "It'd be a shame if you wound
up in the hospital before we even got there."
Izuku flushes. "You say that like I'm going to get injured at the festival."
"Well, you do have a nasty habit of running into villains," Nejire points out. "I wouldn't be
surprised if one decides to make an appearance right as we… right as…" She trails off.
"Right as we what?" Izuku asks.
"Nothing," Nejire says, starting to walk a little bit faster. "Let's just get to the festival and see what
happens!"
The train ride is pretty quick. It's also packed with people going to the festival. Most are people
Izuku's age or younger, though there are a few adults with children going as well. A few fiddle with
tickets in their hands as they ride, but most seem content to chat amongst their group. Which is the
other thing; no one's going alone. Everyone has at least one other person with them—usually a
friend—but there's one family with three kids and two parents, and a group of five teenage boys.
Said teenage boys openly gawk at Izuku, pointing fingers and whispering. One even sneaks a
photo.
"You should get a pair of sunglasses," Nejire says. "Or maybe a mask. It kinda sucks that you get
recognized everywhere."
"It's not that bad," Izuku says as another one of the boys takes a picture with the flash on. "Most of
the time." He looks away from them and flicks up the hood of his jacket. Nejire draws her scarf up
higher over her face to hide from the nose down. The rest of the ride passes without incident.
When they get there, Izuku has to stop for a moment. The middle school is massive. Like, it could
fit two or three of his middle schools inside of it—and Aldara isn't exactly a small school. There
are two separate buildings, each with four floors and skywalks between them. Trees strung up with
lights decorate the inside, and the gates are used as screens for projections. Oh, and there are gates.
As in walls around the school, security watching over a wrought-iron gate.
"It's a little extra," Nejire says, guiding Izuku through the crowd of people trying to push to the
front of the line. She gradually makes her way over to the side of the crowd where there are fewer
people. "The people here are usually alright, and this is always a really great event. I remember
acting in a play when I was a second year and then serving pizza in one of the stands a half-hour
later, still in costume."
"The students work everything, right?" Izuku asks. "It's all put on by them as a way to show that
the school is worth donating to."
"Yep," Nejire says, cutting in line. The person taking tickets looks at her weirdly, but she flashes a
card and they wave both her and Izuku in. The gates open into a large, open courtyard lined with
stands and decorations, completely full of people. "Graduates get in free—I get a plus one because
I got into UA. Everyone else has to pay to get in, but besides that, everything is technically free.
They do have freewill donations, though. You could pay five yen for an ice cream, if you want, or
buy a hat for five thousand."
"Ah. Well, I'm glad I brought a good amount of money," Izuku says. "I'd hate to steal from the
students."
"Oh, they don't get a lick of the cash," Nejire chuckles. "They get extra credit and volunteer hours,
but all the money goes right into the school."
Izuku nods and looks over to see a massive bronze statue of what's clearly the school's founder. "I
don't think the school needs it."
"They definitely don't, so be like me and don't fork over a penny." Nejire points to a sign marked
Games. "Let's start there! I'm not hungry yet and I wanna work up an appetite. The food here is
always to die for!"
The games section of the festival is probably the largest. There are a lot of classic American fair-
style stalls which Izuku only recognizes because All Might explained them to him a while back.
Darts, ring toss, grip strength testers, and even an obstacle course take up a lot of the space. There's
also an arm-wrestling booth with a rather large boy with a wolf mutation behind it, and a kid
guessing ages. But Nejire doesn't stop at those. Instead, she takes Izuku all the way to a rickety-
looking tower with a bell on top of it.
The line for the game is long. At the front of it, Izuku can see people swinging a hammer down
onto a platform, causing something to slide up the pole towards the bell. No one ever gets the bell
to ring. But Nejire is practically vibrating with excitement.
"That thing's older than my dad, and no one's ever won it," she explains. "There's prizes for getting
past certain points, but the big one is for actually ringing the bell."
"The big one?" Izuku asks.
"The big one," Nejire says, pointing to a life-sized plushie of All Might that looks like it's seen
better days. Izuku's not sure if he wants it in his room or in a museum.
"How hard is it?" Izuku asks, mostly out of curiosity. It's a little sad to admit, but if no one's won in
forty years, then he definitely can't. Not with natural strength, anyway.
"Depends," Nejire says with a devious smile. "How hard are you willing to try?"
Izuku lets her have the first turn when they get to the front. The middle schooler running the game
hands her a comically large mallet and tells her that she has one swing. Nejire raises the thing
above her head, jumps, and brings it down on the target. Izuku can tell that she put real force into
the swing, enough to break a bone, even. But even then, the slider only makes it a third of the way
to the bell.
"Oh, Izuku!" Nejire calls, letting the mallet rest on the ground. She points to it and bats her
eyelashes in an overly flirty manner. "Have a go at it for me!"
Izuku, torn between laughing and flushing, walks into the area and picks up the hammer. He looks
to the clerk. "One swing, right?"
The boy smirks. "You can have two since your girl's right here. It'll be funny to watch you
embarrass yourself twice."
"She's not my—"
Nejire cuts him off by grabbing his arm and standing on her tiptoes to whisper in his ear. "Use your
Quirk."
"That's against the rules."
"Show me where. They only say you get one swing, and you're even getting two!"
Izuku chews his lips in thought. "It goes against the spirit of the game."
"This school only lets in rich kids that come from good families and fills half their classrooms with
teachers," Nejire says. Izuku doesn't really see a problem with that, until, "They fudge test results
so the people they don't like can't get in. Even if the family can pay."
Izuku nods and hefts the hammer. "A little."
Nejire pecks him on the cheek. "A lot."
She pulls away and a few people in line laugh at him. They tell him not to mess up, and one even
wolf-whistles. Izuku looks from the game to Nejire.
"Plus Ultra," she says.
Izuku knocks the bell off the tower and carries the All Might plushie over his head to the next
game. Nejire laughs like mad and grabs the legs so she can help carry it too. They get lots of weird
looks, and the people in line at the next game glare at them for the way it takes up way too much
space. They wind up on a bench a few meters away from a calamari stand.
"I didn't think that through."
"Nope."
"It was fun, though."
"Definitely."
"I don't want to take that thing home."
"Neither do I."
Nejire hums and looks around. Something catches her eye and she stands, pulling the plushie up
with her. "I have a plan!"
Izuku follows her towards a small fountain where a family of three sits. Nejire politely asks the
mother to take their picture and even offers to let the kid pose with the plushie. The mother accepts,
and the other mother offers up her phone. Izuku and Nejire pose with All Might and let the kid
pretend that he's standing next to the real All Might. Once all the pictures have been taken, Nejire
blindsides everyone.
"Alright, thanks a lot, you guys! Anyways, you can have All Might if you want!"
Izuku watches as the kid's face perks up in joy, and the mothers look at Nejire with abject horror.
"Really?" the kid asks. "I can keep him?"
"Ask your parents first," Nejire says, and the kid whirls around to look at his mothers. Izuku can't
see, but he just knows he's looking up with watery doe-eyes. "Please?"
Izuku and Nejire walk away All Might-less. The family seems happy, though one of the moms
looks like she's having a breakdown trying to figure out how the hell they're going to take the thing
back home.
"That was evil," Izuku says. He feels Nejire's hand brush up against his, and he takes it.
"What? Nooo. That was perfectly wholesome, innocent behavior." Nejire laces her fingers with his
and squeezes his hand. Izuku squeezes back. "I mean, that kid was so happy! Did you see his
smile?"
"I did," Izuku admits, wearing one himself. "But did you see how those poor parents wished for
anything but a seven-foot stuffed superhero to be in their child's hands?"
"Meh, they'll get over it," Nejire says. "It'll be a little hard walking around and annoying on the
train back home, but once they get there? That kid will be the coolest in his class. Those moms will
have someone who'll love them even more for agreeing to keep it. And, most importantly, they'll
all have an amazing memory to share. No evil, only joy."
"If you say so."
"Oh, I do. Are you in the mood for food yet?"
"I could eat, sure."
They get ramen. Izuku can tell that it's the prepackaged stuff with absolutely disgusting (from a
health standpoint) powdered flavoring made in some factory across some ocean. But he doesn't
really care. It's a little chilly, and sitting across from Nejire under warm lights with hot noodles
feels amazing.
When they finish, Nejire suggests that they get ice cream. Izuku doesn't want any, but he follows
her to the stand anyway. The line moves quickly, and soon they're at the front. Izuku admires the
menu and doesn't notice the way Nejire's face freezes when she sees the server.
"Hey, Hado!" Izuku looks up and sees a tan girl with her hair tied up in a ponytail. "It's been a
while! I'm a third year student now, remember me?"
"Sorta?" Nejire says, staring down at the choices of ice cream. "Uh… I'll have one scoop of
vanilla, no toppings."
"Still plain and boring, huh?" the server says, reaching for a cone and an ice cream scoop. "I
thought you changed. I mean, we all saw how cool you were in the Sports Festivals. But I guess it
was only skin-deep, huh?"
"Sure," Nejire says flatly. She takes the cone and tugs on Izuku's hand a little. "Cool seeing you.
Try not to catch a cold." They leave before the girl can respond, Nejire quickly leading Izuku to a
quieter section of the Festival.
"I'm guessing that that was a… friend of yours?" Izuku says, awkwardly shoving his hands in his
pockets.
"Yeah," Nejire says, staring at her ice cream. She holds it out to Izuku. "I know you didn't want
any, but I'm not in the mood for it anymore. You can have it if you'd like."
"Sure," Izuku says as he takes the cone. There's not much, and he doesn't really have to eat all of it.
He takes a small bite and waits for Nejire to gather her thoughts.
"I don't like this school," she says, leaning up against a nearby pole. Izuku keeps silent, content to
listen. "I… I'm glad I got to go here, just because it's so prestigious, but I hate how snooty people
are. The teachers expect you to be overly perfect, there's almost no free time even at home, and,
well, the students aren't always the greatest. That girl used to make fun of me, even though I'm
older."
Izuku tries to hide his shock because he just can't imagine anyone not liking Nejire or at least
tolerating her. To think that she was actually teased? Maybe even bullied? He does a bad job of
hiding his surprise—the idea's so out there.
"Yeah, I know," Nejire says, tugging on her scarf. "Weird, right? Well, I was way different in
middle school. Mostly because it was right after… Well, I went here because my mom's an
alumnus, and she's not exactly in the picture right now, if you catch my drift."
"Yeah," Izuku says, mostly so she knows he's listening.
"Yeah. Anyways, I went here because she went here. The house is nice because of her. We don't
have to worry about financial stuff because of her. But right after they split? Didn't have that. So I
was the daughter of an alum who… isn't around, and was being raised by a single father. No
Quirklessness, but kids are vicious."
"You don't have to tell me any more," Izuku says.
Nejire half-smirks. "Thanks. I really appreciate that. And I'm sorry for just… dumping this on you.
We're here to have fun, not mope over what has been."
"I mean, it's still part of you, right?"
"Yeah, even if therapy tried to iron it out."
"But it still affects you, yeah?" She nods. "My… past still impacts me, and I sometimes get lost in
it. It's not… the point is that I understand, and the night's not ruined because of it."
"Thanks, again. But I really just wanted to have fun."
"We still can. You hate this place, right?"
"Hate's a weak word to describe it."
Izuku chuckles. "Then let's leave."
"But you were looking forward to goofing off here. And there's free food."
"So? You're not enjoying yourself, and I don't want to be somewhere where you can't smile. So
let's go somewhere else. Anywhere but here. A change of scenery will be great!"
They end up walking around downtown, admiring the city lights and occasionally window
shopping. Their hands stay laced together the whole while, except when Izuku inevitably stumbles
upon a mugging that he sorts out. The officer who responds is left utterly clueless as to why Nejire
won't stop laughing and why Izuku can't look the mugger or the muggee in the eye. He winds up
laughing with her, though, because it really is funny that he can't go more than five days without
saving someone. Funny, but not at all bad.
Their wandering takes them to the edge of the city where a Ferris wheel overlooks a port. Izuku
pays for tickets, and they hop into one of the cars. The seats are a little shoddy, and they have to
share a seatbelt, but the view is amazing. Lights glow like the stars above, changing color at
random. The ocean reflects the pale moonlight that peeks through the clouds almost shyly. They
both keep silent the whole way up.
"They usually end the festival with fireworks," Nejire says, shifting away from him a little. "I
wanted to watch them with you. But this is just as nice."
"I think so too," Izuku says, catching her eye. She looks away but takes a deep breath and stares at
him.
"Pretty romantic, right?" Nejire says, right as they stop at the top. Izuku suddenly understands the
knowing look the ticket salesman gave him when they got on.
"It's more than pretty romantic," Izuku says. "It's closer to very romantic, I think. I'm pretty sure
this has happened in a movie or ten."
"Y-yeah," Nejire says. "It's, uh, that obvious, isn't it?"
"Yep, sure is."
"I still want to say it, though."
"G-go for it."
"Izuku, you… you're just really, really, awesome, and attractive, and, and a million other adjectives
I can't think of right now." Nejire drums her fingers on her thighs, clearly nervous. "I really, really
like you. Maybe… I want to be with you."
"I think the same," Izuku says, gently grabbing one of her hands. "Like, the exact same."
"Then can I…"
"I wouldn't say no."
They kiss. It's weird and unsure, but it feels right. Nejire pulls away. "I love you."
Izuku smiles and says the first thing that comes to mind.
"I know."
Chapter End Notes
Fluff and trianing with a little bit of Nejire backstory hinting in because I'm not going
to have someone with Izuku who isn't fleshed out. The next one should be pretty
positive, too, and we're getting closer to cannon. Less than 20 chapters, I think. I hope
you enjoyed. Cheers!
Like this fic? What to talk with me and other people that are fans of 365? Join my
discord!
Marked Progress
Chapter Notes
As of August 9 2021, this chapter has been edited by my beta, flauel.
"I Han Solo'd her. She said she loved me, and I pulled a Han Solo. I can't even look her in the eye
now! It wasn't even a cool situation to do it! It's not like I was about to be frozen in Carbonite; I
was just being stupid! Everything was… was… it was all romantic and stuff, like right out of a
movie. I knew what was coming—I could've prepared myself—but nooo. I just let myself blank
out. Why am I like this?"
The poster of All Might doesn't answer, and Izuku slumps down in his desk chair. He's lucky the
apartment is empty. The neighbors might have heard, but he's never seen them once in his life, so
he doesn't care. The important thing is that no one important knows. Well, Nejire knows, but she
hasn't seen Star Wars—something he's grateful for. Not that it would've been a disaster if she did
catch the unintentional reference. Nejire probably would have laughed it off harder than she did.
She's great like that. But it's still so embarrassing that Izuku's happy to keep it to himself.
He stands up and stretches his muscles. A weekend of heavy training and sleep had given him time
to sit on everything that happened Friday, and his little rant was probably the peak of everything.
It's such a weird, unexpected change in the grand scheme of things. Dating Nejire just… it feels
like it can't be real. Or it did, until this morning. Really, hitting the weights and training for hours
—even if he still isn't supposed to—worked wonders for his chaotic mind. Everything makes sense
now, and it feels right. He has a girlfriend, one that loves him. He has a job that is fulfilling and
pays well, his mom is working less and less, his proficiency with One for All is growing, and
school is teaching him all sorts of new and useful things. He couldn't be happier.
With a smile, Izuku goes about the rest of his morning. He showers, eats, checks over some
homework, and gets dressed. The train ride is quiet and peaceful, and no one stops him in the street
to ask for an autograph. His phone is oddly silent—Twitter must be bothering some other poor
schmuck today—and the gates of U.A are as welcoming as usual if you ignore the reporters
waiting in front of it, which he does. And it feels so good to ignore them, too. Is this why Aizawa
doesn't do interviews? Because brushing off the press is just so much fun?
Planning to ask him, Izuku walks through the doors of classroom 1-A, which are strangely closed.
"Good morning, Mister—oh!"
Aizawa is passed out on the floor. Actually passed out, as in Izuku can see the even rise and fall of
his chest as he lies belly-up with his hands tucked under his head. His sleeping bag is crumpled up
into a heap in the corner, and there's a tall thermos of hot coffee on his desk. There's a smaller
container next to it, dull grey and matte with a simple twist cap. It looks like a flask. Carefully,
Izuku backs up towards the door. Aizawa, even in his sleep, looks dead tired. The last thing he
wants to do is cut into his sleep.
He makes it halfway to the door when his shoe squeaks on the floor. Aizawa bolts upright,
reaching for his neck, eyes glowing an angry red. Izuku laughs nervously. "Morning, sir."
Aizawa blinks, and One for All stirs in Izuku's gut, annoyed with being temporarily erased.
"Morning," Aizawa says, though it sounds more like a question. "You can head up to Nedzu if
you’d like."
"I've got a few minutes to kill," Izuku says, watching as Aizawa slowly stands and drinks a
mouthful of coffee and puts the flask in his inner breast pocket. "Um… I guess you had a long
weekend?"
"No longer than usual," Aizawa says in perfect monotone. "I'm getting old is all. I can't go for as
long as I used to without burning out. I should've gotten more rest."
"Okay," Izuku says, trying not to show how he thinks that Aizawa's lying through his teeth. Even if
the man was getting old, he'd be smart about it. There's no way he'd risk his life because he
couldn't catch up on sleep. He'd realize early on that he's not as sharp as he should be and
immediately do something to correct it. "Mine was nice. I got to relax and hang out with friends."
"You don't work weekends with Tensei?"
"I can't, remember?" Izuku says. "I, uh… Hound Dog doesn't let me." And neither do you, he
doesn't say.
"Right." Aizawa drinks some more coffee and takes a deep breath. He lets it go. "How's your work
study been?"
"Great," Izuku says, fiddling with the cuffs of his sleeves. "It's been pretty action-packed so far, but
we're thinking that everything will kinda cool off soon. I've really learned a lot from him, and he's
made me think about a lot of things, even if he doesn't realize."
"He tends to do that," Aizawa mumbles, starting to nod off again even if he's standing with a hot
drink in his hands. "He and… he and Oboro always used to say the dumbest things, but when they
got serious—" Aizawa's eyes snap awake, and he flinches. A splash of coffee hits the tile, staining
the floor a dark brown.
"I'm going to head up to class," Izuku says, keeping his eyes locked on the puddle of coffee. The
last thing he wants Aizawa to see is how thoughtful his eyes are. But it has the added side effect of
making it impossible to read his teacher's expression.
"Yeah," Aizawa says. "You do that and I'll clean up here."
Izuku walks up the stairs that lead to Nedzu's meeting room, torn between brushing aside what just
happened and analyzing every tiny detail. Despite knowing Aizawa's smart and logical enough to
get through nearly everything, worry starts to creep in. Something's clearly wrong, but what?
Probably something serious since Aizawa is, well, Aizawa. Whatever it is must be big. And
personal. Which is why Izuku's unsure if he should be worried. No, he is worried. He's just not
sure if he should try to figure it out and try to help. Aizawa's an adult. An adult who knows how to
deal with things. He should be good on his own. But Izuku can't shake the feeling that he should do
something.
Nedzu takes his mind off of everything the second Izuku walks into the meeting room. There's a
projector pointed at a screen that covers the far window. Nedzu sits on the floor in front of it,
sipping tea as a block of letters that reads DVD Video glides across the screen, bouncing off the
edges. Izuku watches as the logo starts to move to a corner and Nedzu leans forward, interested.
When the logo hits, it changes color and rebounds. Satisfied, Nedzu stands and flicks the lens
cover over the projector.
"One must find delight in the simplest of pleasures, no?" Nedzu says, walking over to his computer
which is plugged into the projector. He clicks a few times and starts to type a password in.
"Sure," Izuku says, watching as the password to Nedzu's computer exceeds twenty characters. "I,
uh, yeah, I get that. I also finished up that coding project you gave me. I had to restart a few times,
but I think I got it."
"Wonderful. Send it to me in an email and I'll take a look at it later." Nedzu takes the lens cover
off the projector, and the screen lights back up. A larger-than-life picture of Izuku and Piledriver
holding up everyone else back at the photoshoot appears, the lighting and detail of every pixel
flawless. Everyone's smiling, and their shirts, hoodies, hats, scarves, and even sweatpants are red or
blue with the iconic logo written in white. Some people have their own faces on their clothes. More
have their friend's faces and stand next to the real things. Most have some kind of unique logo,
though, ones that match their costumes. Izuku's shirt is long-sleeved with a blue body and
mismatched sleeves.
"It's perfect," Izuku says, already picturing a copy of it on his wall.
"Yes, the camera work and editing is top-notch—the company certainly didn't want to anger me,"
Nedzu says, chuckling. "Would you like to see the rest?"
"Yes, but I was wondering…" Izuku trails off.
"Wondering what?"
"You said you had dirt on the company," Izuku begins again. "I was just wondering what it was
and why you decided to blackmail a fashion studio."
Nedzu's eyes gleam. "Well, blackmail is a strong word. I was merely cashing in a favor. And if
you're curious, well." Nedzu shrugs. "Let's just say that their child wants to get into my school but
wouldn't last long if they were treated normally."
"So you're turning a blind eye to an applicant's behavior?" Izuku asks, not liking it in the slightest.
"That's the thing: I'm not." Nedzu sets his tea down and spreads apart his arms. "The fact that I
know that the child has issues means I could blacklist them. But I haven't. The parents think that
I'll allow their child some wiggle room, considering that I'm letting them take the exam. But I'm
not. In fact, Eraser and Vlad will be getting explicit copies of the student's record. Should they
make it in, anyway. They might not. After all, who knows what the future holds?"
"I guess," Izuku says. "But it still feels wrong to let someone who… well, I don't know what they
did, but you considered blacklisting them, right?" Nedzu nods. "It feels wrong letting someone who
might not deserve to be here have a go at it."
"True, true, but consider this: that child will get into a school no matter what." Nedzu sips his tea.
"They, well, for the lack of a better term, are a perfect candidate for a top hero. A strong Quirk,
insane work ethic, unquestionable conviction, and high levels of strategic thinking. They placed
first in the mock exams, you know."
"I didn't," Izuku says. "But they have a record, right? Won't that stop them from getting into a good
school? Or even a bad school. Heroes don't like taking in criminals."
"You're correct on all accounts," Nedzu says. "Villain to hero stories are mostly fiction. Very few
turn over, and in this society, once you start doing crime, it's hard to stop. Especially when you're
young."
"I'm working to change that, though." Izuku points to the picture on the screen. "The whole reason I
did that was to raise money for at-risk kids so they would have things to turn to that weren't crime
or villainy."
"Then you believe in second chances," Nedzu stares.
"I do."
"That's a wonderful thing. So tell me, does this middle school delinquent with a history of illegal
Quirk use and getting into fights deserve a shot at turning over a new leaf?"
"I guess," Izuku says. "Just as long as they try to get better, there's no problem with it. And how do
you know about their record, anyway? Doesn't the government keep that kind of stuff private until
you're an adult?"
"They do, but I'm better than them." Nedzu chuckles into his hand. "Oh, the things I get away with
because the people writing and enforcing the laws are less intelligent than me…. I also keep an eye
on prospects with strong or interesting Quirks. They've been on the list for years. Your friend
Togata was as well, and Young Hado."
"Was I on the list?" Izuku can't help but ask.
"No," Nedzu says. "But try not to get so worked up about it. UA… UA is made to mold top pros,
and there's a certain type that can make it all the way there. We don't exactly discriminate—if you
pass the exam, you're in regardless of who or what you are—but we favor those with strong
Quirks."
"That feels wrong."
"It is on some level," Nedzu concedes. "But it's what this school has done long before you or I
were born, and it's what this school will continue to do long after we're gone. UA has a reputation
to uphold. We made All Might. We made Endeavor. We made Best Jeanist. We're expected to keep
doing the same, and we can't do that if we don't favor the strong and flashy."
"... Was it because I was Quirkless?"
"Partly." Nedzu nods sympathetically when Izuku looks away. "You also didn't show signs of a
strong work ethic, otherwise our scouts would have mentioned something. But yes, it was because
you were Quirkless. It's… an unfortunate truth of our society that no one will ever look at a
Quirkless person and think 'hero.' A Quirkless person won't ever make someone feel safe, no
matter how skilled or smart they are. It is wrong from a moral standpoint, but in the eyes of your
average citizen? How could a Quirkless person even be a hero when using a Quirk to save others is
part of what makes a hero a hero?"
Izuku cringes. "I wouldn't have made it as a Quirkless hero, huh?"
"Few would," Nedzu says. "But it wouldn't be impossible for every Quirkless person out there. UA
and Shiketsu focus on strong Quirks, but schools like Ketsubutsu, Seijin, Seiai Academy, and
Isamu don't. They'll take anybody and help them grow as best they can. Quirk or no."
"That's… a little comforting at least." Izuku taps his legs, still trying to process everything. "I still
don't like it, though."
"Neither do I," Nedzu says. "I think the way society treats those who don't fit in their mold is
disgusting. It's why I helped train Aizawa for his first year Sports Festival."
"You helped Aizawa get into the hero course?" Izuku asks, connecting the dots, "and Aizawa
transferred into heroics?"
"Oh, yes," Nedzu reminisces, "he failed the practical and was quite the moody child. I was teaching
philosophy at that time, but I occasionally lent myself to the heroics teachers. I saw that Aizawa
was hungry for a shot, was impressed with his Quirk and the work he put in already, and, well…"
"He's Eraserhead now," Izuku finishes.
"Indeed," Nedzu agrees. "He's the sort of hero I wish UA would focus on. But alas, this school has
traditions that can't be tossed."
"But you're the principal, aren't you?"
"Yes, and that grants me some power. But." Nedzu taps his scar. "I'm not particularly well-liked
outside of my circle. There's also around fifty years worth of alumni who'd raise a fuss, and that's
not even taking the school board into account."
"So it's kinda stuck this way," Izuku says. "I mean, you can't fix it, and the people in power don't
want it to be fixed."
"Nothing's impossible," Nedzu says. "Well, that which is impossible is outnumbered by that which
is. The system can be changed—completely overhauled, even. Just not by me."
"Then who?"
"You," Nedzu says simply. "Think about it. You are a hero with an amazing, flashy Quirk. You've
been shown to work hard and have a strong character. The government, Commission, and society
as a whole will happily take you in. Provided they haven't already."
"I'm not so sure about that."
"You'll have to distance yourself from me for it to work," Nedzu continues, "I'm almost subhuman
in their eyes, you know. But if they see a disconnect between you and I, well… you'll be right in
the inner circle."
"Inner… circle?" Izuku asks.
"Oh, yes. This country,—and every other one, if I'm honest—is run by a few elites. I'm not one of
them, but I have dirt on a few so I can keep an eye out on what they do." Nedzu taps his nails on
his mug, making a series of high-pitched tinks. "They'll probably approach you and attempt to
bribe you. Playing nice for a while will get you even further in, and by the time you're thirty—"
"That's a long way into the future—"
"—you'll have this country in your hands," Nedzu says, ignoring Izuku's comment in favor of
staring off into the distance. "Yes, then you can mold Japan how you want it. People wronged by
how it is now and was before will get their justice. It may take years for everything to fully change
for the better, but it will happen. All you need to do is to keep training."
Izuku blinks and sorely wishes for a cup of tea. "That was… a lot," he says, still trying to process
everything. "I… I don't even know what to say. Should… should someone even be able to have that
much power?"
"Not at all, but the fact that you're questioning it makes you the perfect candidate."
"Still…"
"You're to be the next Symbol, no?" Nedzu points to the projector. "The money from that is
already going to help those in need. If you want to succeed All Might—not just be the next version
of him—you'll have to keep going. Yagi built a wonderful society where people can smile without
fear, but he's really only draped a sheet over the deep-rooted issues left over from those awful
times. People are still suffering from decisions made decades or even centuries in the past. You
wish to help as many as possible. To me, at least, the choice is clear."
"It's still a lot," Izuku says. "To think I could have that much power in the palms of my hands… I'm
almost scared of it."
"Good. Perfect, even. Those who don't fear or understand the ramifications of having great power
are bound to let it consume them." Nedzu looks at Izuku very seriously for a moment but quickly
flashes a warm smile. "But you're only sixteen! It's good to think about the future, yes, but you
should enjoy your youth. Train, goof off with your friends, stay up late like you youngsters do. It'd
be a shame if you miss out on a chunk of your life because you were worried about what's to
come."
Izuku sits, absorbing Nedzu's words deep into his mind. "Thank you," he says. "That was great
advice."
"I try," Nedzu says, tipping an imaginary hat. "I think it's time for you to go, however. Have fun."
"I will, sir. I will."
Of course, fun doesn't come until lunch. Classes with Midnight and Present Mic are enjoyable, but
they're not exactly fun. It's interesting to learn more history and how to do a backflip without a
Quirk before summarizing a book he read in English but definitely not fun. Izuku ends up thinking
about what his combat lesson will be later in the day and how his friends are doing. But when
lunch does roll around, Izuku finds himself distracted by his phone. Apparently his moment of
peace from social media was temporary, and now he's trending again. It's because of the
photoshoot, though, so it's not awful. He replies to a few tweets before shutting off his phone and
getting in the lunch line.
Once he gets his pile of food, Izuku walks over to his usual table. It's empty, but he catches a flash
of periwinkle in the food line and figures that at least Nejire is right behind him. He sits, makes
sure his phone is on silent, and starts to eat.
It's not Nejire that sits down first, but rather Mirio. The taller boy gently sets his lunch tray down
and sits across from him. Mirio's blue eyes bore into his, and Izuku shifts a little, unused to his
straight face. "I know," Mirio says, and the corners of his lips twitch up a little. Izuku's face turns
beet red, and Mirio loses it.
"She told you, didn't she?" Izuku says, fighting the urge to let his face slam into his beef stew.
Mirio, covering his mouth with one hand while he wheezes, nods. "Please tell me you didn't
explain."
"S-so it was an accidental Star Wars reference," Mirio says, giggling. "I wasn't completely sure. I
m-mean, I-it's still funny either way"—he lets out another short round of laughter—"but you knew
what you did, too."
"Yeah," Izuku says, staring down into his food, regretting his very existence. "It was awful."
"Oh, c'mon, it's not that bad," Mirio says. "Funny? Yes. Hilarious? Definitely. But nothing bad
came of it, right? Nejire didn't take it the wrong way."
"No," Izuku says. "She just kinda laughed and then kissed me again. I… I said it back later in the
evening."
"So it's fine."
"Yeah."
"I'm still not letting it go."
"I'd be worried if you did," Izuku admits. "It is pretty funny."
"And it would be even funnier if she knew what it meant."
"You wouldn't."
"I—"
"Hey, guys!" Nejire calls, swooping in to sit next to Izuku. Across from her, Tamaki sits next to
Mirio. "Whatcha up to?"
"Lunch," Izuku says, trying not to look at Mirio's wiggling eyebrows. "And, uh, talking about
school stuff."
"Cool. How were your classes?" Nejire asks, picking up her drink and taking a sip.
"Normal-ish," Izuku says. "Nedzu's… Nedzu, but everything else is normal as it always is. How
about you?"
"Ours were great. Right, Tamaki?"
"Sure," Tamaki says. "If you count two exams and a pop quiz as good things."
Izuku winces. "On the same day? Really?”
"Yeah, but they were easy," Nejire says. "I mean, you were done first for all of them, right?"
"I guess." Tamaki shrugs, poking his chicken with his chopsticks. "I still could've bombed them."
"You've been in the top five for literal years," Nejire says, casually grabbing one of Izuku's hands
to hold. Izuku tries not to let it distract him, but he fails and ends up dropping a piece of beef back
into the broth. "There's no chance of you failing out now."
"PDA isn't okay, you know," Mirio says, gesturing to Nejire and Izuku's laced fingers. "It's not
against the rules, but…"
"Hypocrisy is also discouraged, you know," Nejire says coyly. "I seem to remember a few
detentions you had for, oh, how should I put it? Inappropriate affection."
"Not the public kind, though," Mirio argues.
"It's still against the rules, and you're not fooling anyone," Nejire says. "I'd bet a thousand yen that
your hand is on Tamaki's thigh right now."
Mirio coughs, pink seeping into his cheeks. "I'm going to awkwardly change the subject now
because I don't have a defense for that. Movie night, anyone? Sometime this month?"
"Subtle," Izuku says with a laugh. "You're just a master of quietly controlling the conversation."
"Oh, definitely," Nejire agrees. "But what day were you thinking, Mirio? I work weekends, and
Fridays are date nights."
"They are?" Izuku asks.
"If you’d like."
"Oh. Sure, that'd be fine."
"Maybe a Sunday," Mirio cuts in. "Uh, Sir wants me working a few hours every day, but most of
my shifts are under four hours. And Tamaki…"
"I only work Thursdays, Fridays, and weekends," Tamaki says. "But four six-hour shifts. I could
probably ask Fat Gum for some time off."
"So a Sunday, then," Nejire says. "Next week?"
"The week after would work better for me," Izuku says. "I want to get a few more on-call hours at
Idaten first, if that's alright."
"That's perfectly fine," Mirio says. "Sunday two weeks from now. How does watching Star Wars
sound?"
"No!" Izuku has to fight from slamming his hand over his mouth, because he knows what Mirio's
trying to pull. "Er, I mean, there's so many of them, and we've all watched them before, right?
Shouldn't we watch something new?"
"I haven't seen Star Wars," Nejire says.
"Really?" Mirio says, acting surprised. "You never told me!"
"Yeah I did," Nejire says, clearly slightly suspicious. "You tried to explain the plot to me and I got
lost after the first ten seconds."
"Ah. Well, I must've forgotten," Mirio says, looking Izuku right in the eye. "We should change
that. They're good movies."
"Not really," Izuku says, already regretting it because of how appalled Mirio looks. "I-I mean, it's
hard to get into it if you didn't see it when you were young. They're also pretty… dated. Like, the
effects of the first nine aren't up to scratch, and the dialogue..." Izuku shivers.
"But you like them, right?" Nejire asks.
"Definitely," Izuku says. "I really enjoy re-watching them, even if I do laugh at some of the parts."
"If you like them then I wanna see them, too," Nejire decides.
"Great," Mirio says as Izuku stares at him with pleading eyes. "We'll go in the order that they were
released in, so episode four's first."
"That makes no sense."

"Yep! But just wait till we get to episode five. I have a feeling that you'll like that one!"
Izuku tries not to dread his future embarrassment, but it's too difficult to do. He can't look anyone
in the eye for the rest of lunch and quietly heads to his next class. He knows it won't be that bad—
every rational part of him recognizes that Nejire won't care and will laugh when she finds out. But
the irrational part of him that Izuku can't shove aside is very loud in voicing its opinion on the
matter. It's going to be awful when it happens. He can't help but think so, anyways.
It's a relief when school's out. Izuku prepares to head home for some rest or maybe to the gym for
some flying practice. He's not sure, since his mother's busy for the night and won't be home until
later. But there's also a lot that's happened today. Stacking more training on top wouldn't make
Hound Dog or Aizawa happy. Aizawa…
Izuku tries not to think about the man, he really does. The memory of his teacher early in the
morning sticks in his head, though. Tired, dead-eyed, and, well, almost depressed. It shakes him up
a little, and he doesn't even notice that his phone's ringing until it's right about to stop.
"Hey, this is Midoriya. Who's there?" he asks, not having seen the contact name in his haste.
"It's Hound Dog. How's it goin' kid?"
"Good," Izuku says. "Um… is something wrong? Not that I don't like hearing from you, but, uh…"
"Getting called by your therapist outta the blue ain't exactly fun, I getcha. But this ain't a bad
thing."
"That's good."
"Yeah. I just wanted to know if you were free to come in right now. I've been… let's just call it
booked for the foreseeable future. It's not that I don't care about ya—I've just gotten a few more
patients that take higher priority, and the session we planned for after your patrol kinda fell
through."
"I'd be okay with coming in right now," Izuku says. "I haven't even left campus yet."
"Great. See you in my office."
The walk over is quick and gives Izuku something else to focus on. Once he makes it to the
building, he climbs the steps, knocks on the door, enters, and sits down. Hound Dog greets him and
offers him coffee like always. Izuku declines and gets comfortable on the couch. "Sorry about the
short notice," Hound Dog says. "It was a real shock when I got my new patients. I just got the news
today myself, and I'm still trying to figure out what to do to help them."
"It's alright," Izuku says. "I'm not busy, and I understand that other people need help."
"Of course you do," Hound Dog says, putting on the closest thing he can to a smile. "That's
actually kinda what I want to talk to you about today. How you view heroics is important, you
know."
"Yeah," Izuku says. "I think this is also something that you wanted to touch on a while back, right?
I kinda remember you pushing the topic aside so we could focus on a different issue."
"Yep, that I did. And it's alright to do that. Breaking things apart is a great way to problem-solve.
Anyways, how was your day?"
"Fifty-fifty," Izuku says after a moment of thought. "I made plans with friends, learned a few
things, lifted, and, uh, Nedzu did his thing. But Aizawa doesn't look too good."
"Yeah, the staff all knows. Try not to let your worry get to you, though. He'll get better; we'll all
make sure of it."
"That's good to hear. I just wish I could help him."
"Good, that means you care. How was your last patrol?"
"Normal. I arrested a few low-level villains, and there was nothing big all day."
"Calm is good, especially in our line of work. Gives us time to rest before something big inevitably
happens. Could you walk me through how you thought during that big bank fight you had a while
back?"
Izuku blinks, surprised. "Now? You didn't ask me about it during the session right after it
happened."
"'Cause you weren't ready for this conversation yet. I think you are now, though."
"Alright. Um… it's kinda hard to explain, because I don't tend to think a whole lot. Well, I do. It's
just about how to do the actual saving or fighting. I don't think I'm capable of analyzing my
feelings mid-battle."
"That's fine. How about you tell me about your feelings during the scenario instead?"
"What do you mean?"
"Think back to how you felt during it. It's not that hard in concept, but it may take you some time
to gather your thoughts. If it helps, replay the event in your mind."
"Okay. Um, first I was worried and a little bit apprehensive. I didn't know what was going on, and
after the explosion, I knew I had to get a read on the situation," Izuku recalls, leaving out how he
almost lost himself in the early parts of the attack. "Once I saw how bad it was, I kinda felt better,
but also worse? Like I knew how bad the street looked and that it was just the bank, but there also
wasn't a whole lot of new information to go off of. It was a weird mix of confidence and
apprehension."
"All of that's normal," Hound Dog says, writing a few things down. "But I understand that there
was a brief disagreement between you and Ingenium?"
"He wanted to go first into the bank. I thought that I should be first."
"Why?"
"Because I'm stronger. No, that sounds egotistical. It was because there was less danger in me
going in front of him. I'm more durable than Ingenium, and if the worst came to worst, I could take
a big hit and live while he countered."
"How'd you feel while taking point?"
Izuku shrugs. "Normal. I was worried, but no more than I would've if Ingenium was in front.
Actually, I think I would've felt worse if I had let Ingenium take point."
"Why?"
"Well, I said it earlier, right? In terms of the mission and everyone's safety, it makes sense that I go
first."
"So you'd rather risk your life than another person's."
"Yeah. That's kind of a part of the job."
"True. Can you think of a situation where you wouldn't choose someone's life over your own?"
"No," Izuku says instantly.
"Yeah, that's a bad thing."
"What? Being a hero means you risk it all for anyone and everyone. If I'm not willing to offer
myself up for another, then I wouldn't feel right calling myself a hero."
"Midoriya, do you want to die?"
"No."
"Really? Because if you keep that mindset, you're going to. Pretty soon, if I had to guess."
"I… if I died saving someone, then I think I'd be okay with it," Izuku says, a little afraid of the
words that leave his lips.
Hound Dog remains silent for a moment. "This," he says after a while, "is going to sound awful,
but bear with me. You, Midoriya Izuku, are more important than the average person."
"No, I'm not."
"Yes, you are. How many lives have you saved already?"
"Over fifteen, I think. Maybe twenty-five."
"Cool. That's great. How many lives has All Might saved?"
"You can't answer that question. It's… he's the Symbol of Peace. There's no telling how many lives
he's responsible for."
"Alright. How many could All Might have saved if he died at sixteen?"
Izuku forgets to breathe for a moment. "I… I think I understand."
"I want you to say it. Please. It'll help it soak in."
Izuku swallows. "Under a hundred."
"Yeah. In comparison, the average Joe or Jane off the street will save zero. Doctors, social
workers, and police officers might get a few, but heroes? Ones like you're going to be? Hundreds.
Thousands. Actually, you might get up into the tens of thousands. Whether or not you're the next
All Might is up for debate, but you could be one of the greats. If you die now, saving just one
person, how many will die in the future because you weren't there?"
"I don't know," Izuku says. "I… I…"
"This is heavy stuff," Hound Dog soothes. "It's okay to feel scared. Shit, it's normal, even. But it's
important that you understand this. We've lost so many young heroes—kids, really—because they
didn't understand the value of their own life. It would break my heart to see another one be you,
kid. Understand?"
"I-if I can't protect myself, I can't protect others." Izuku thinks back to his lessons with Danger
Sense, and how picturing himself as the shield for everyone had hurt him. But when he shielded
himself, he was able to do the impossible.
"Remember that. It's okay to be selfish when it comes to your own life, okay?"
"Okay."
"Good. I think you might be ready."
"Ready for what?"
"To never see my ugly mug again is what. A few more weeks and you'll be good to go. You've
gotten everything I wanted you to, down. Still see that Hanson lady, though. Therapy is always
good for ya. But you're ready for the big stuff again."
"Like patrols and my old training schedule?"
"As long as you remember the value of your life, yeah."
Izuku looks into Hound Dog's beady black eyes. He sees happiness and fulfillment. He's pretty
sure he looks the same. "Thank you, sir. For everything."
"Bah, wait till you're actually cleared. I still wanna see you for a while longer. Thank yourself,
though, for working hard to get better."
Chapter End Notes
Important lessons, future plans, and scary foreshadowing. All import, I promise.
Anyways, shits gonna go down next chapter, so brace yourself, mentally. We're to the
point where it's obvious that cannon won't look the same, and the next few chapters
will hopefully give you an idea of how that'll be. I hope you enjoyed. Cheers!
Like this fic? Join my discord!
Down Below
Chapter Notes
As of August 11, 2021 this chapter has been edited by my beta, flauel.
The first day back to his old schedule is a weird one. Izuku wakes up, brushes his teeth, showers,
and goes right to Idaten. Ingenium had been happy when he heard that Izuku got his hours
extended and immediately asked if he'd like to work more. Izuku said yes without thinking, and
now he's getting on a train at five AM. It's not inherently a bad thing—putting in more hours makes
him feel great—but he's normally at the gym early in the morning. His body's used to exercising at
this hour, not sitting stock-still with little room to move. He starts to fidget, tapping his thighs just
to find something to do. It annoys the few other passengers, so he quickly stops.
Izuku distracts himself by looking at his phone. There's nothing new on Twitter—thank god—but
there are a few new posts on forums about heroes which he reads. Izuku also rereads the text
conversation he had with Nejire the previous night. It makes him blush, the warmth traveling all
the way to his toes. It distracts him better than any Twitter feed could.
Izuku arrives at Idaten at six o'clock, ready to go out on patrol. But when he walks in the door, he
finds Ingenium in full costume holding a sack of something on his back like Santa Claus. "Um,
what's up?" Izuku greets.
"Yo!" Ingenium drops the bag, causing whatever's inside to shuffle around. "How's it going?"
"Pretty good. You're… chipper."
"Hm? Oh yeah! I didn't tell you. We're doing something different today."
"Different how?"
"Youth outreach," Ingenium says, giving the bag a light kick. "We're going to a middle school to
talk to them about stuff."
"What kind of stuff?"
"Drugs and how to be a hero."
"Those go together?"
"Nope! But we're going to two schools, so there'll be two different presentations."
"I don't know the script," Izuku says. Then, because he knows how Ingenium operates: "Is there a
script?"
"Just follow my lead and try to look cool. Let's get going!"
The first school is a rich one. There's an auditorium with hundreds of seats and a state-of-the-art
stage. Just for Izuku and Ingenium. To talk about how drugs are bad. It's really awkward, but only
for Izuku. Ingenium, however, works the stage like a veteran, making lots of big gestures and
interacting with the audience frequently. Izuku just stands there, occasionally saying a word or two
when prompted. At the end, they throw out toys from the sack, which practically makes a stampede
of middle schoolers. Once everyone is calmed down, they thank the teachers for letting them come
and quietly leave.
The second school is poor. It's not obvious, since the building is big and modern, but the
decorations and quality of the learning materials show how bad it is. But the students love them.
They scream and cheer every time Izuku says anything, even if it's just a simple yes or no. They
listen to their speech on preparing for hero school exams and beg them to stay and keep talking. It
breaks Izuku's heart to walk off stage, but Ingenium cheers him up quickly.
"We're hanging around to talk."
And suddenly Izuku's in the lunchroom, swarmed by middle schoolers all begging for his attention.
He signs hundreds of autographs, takes dozens of pictures, and gives lots of hi-fives. He stays there
until school lets out for lunch, and heads out to the back. Ingenium told him to wait there while he
speaks to the principal, so Izuku leans up against the wall and looks up at the cloudy sky. A few
minutes pass.
"Oh." Izuku looks over to see a tall, thin boy with purple hair and dark eyebags standing a few feet
away. He's holding a tray of food and awkwardly making eye contact with Izuku and the ground.
"Uh… can I—" He stops speaking, and nervously closes his mouth.
"You can eat here," Izuku says. "There's no tables though."
The boy shrugs and sits on the ground. He digs into his rice, occasionally sneaking glances to the
side. Izuku pretends not to notice and slowly slides down the wall. "I didn't see you in the crowd."
"I was in the back."
"Oh. Cool. Did you get a toy?"
"No, but I saw people fighting over the bag, so."
"Same thing."
"Yep."
Izuku hums and fiddles with his belt for a moment. A cool breeze blows by, pushing steam from
the boy's lunch over to Izuku's nose. His stomach grumbles.
"You want some of my udon?"
"No thanks, I've got food coming."
"Hm. Is… is it true? What you said?" the boy asks. Izuku looks over to see him staring into his
noodles.
"Is what true?"
"That anyone can be a hero, no matter what."
"Sure," Izuku says. "You just have to work hard. Do you want to be a hero?"
"More than anything."

"I did, too. Have you been getting ready for exams?"
"... I jog every morning."
"That's not enough."
"No. It's not."
"There's this really great YouTube channel called Fitness Teens. They do sponsorships and stuff,
but if you go back to when they were starting out, they've got a lot of good tips for people your
age."
"I'll look into that, thanks."
"No problem. I know it's difficult to do at your age, but have you been training your Quirk? It's
pretty important for most exams."
The boy stills. "I can't practice it."
"Why?"
"I… brainwash people."
"Ah."
"Yep."
"How?"
"Excuse me?"
"How does it work?"
The boy blinks, stunned. "If someone responds to me, I can give them simple instructions. They're
in a trance while I do it, and don't remember anything."
"That's pretty powerful," Izuku says, "and handy. Any school would be lucky to have you, but I can
guess how things are for you right now."
"Y-yeah, thanks." He rubs the back of his neck. "I… I'm not a fan of yours, but I know who you
are. And as long as you're here, I may as well ask. How hard is it to get into UA, really?"
Izuku lets out a long breath. He thinks. "For you, right into the hero course?"
"Yeah."
"Impossible."
"What?"
"You're not as fit as you could be. The exam is all robots so your Quirk won't work. And I don't
know if you could get in on… never mind that last bit. You won't pass the UA practical. You just
won't. They'll put you into Gen Ed and give you a shot at the Sports Festival, but if you fail that,
you're not getting in."
"Oh." The boy drops his chopsticks.

"I'm sorry," Izuku says sympathetically. "But UA… I don't think it's right for you. It favors people
like me. Flashy, powerful, loud. You, though? You're made to be sneaky. Lurking in dark alleys,
brainwashing drug dealers, and arresting muggers. UA has the Sports Festival. Everyone will see
you there; everyone will know your Quirk. That's not good for an underground hero. Er, do you
want to be an underground hero?"
"I don't care just as long as I am a hero. But… that's my dream school out the window, huh?"
"Don't worry about it. I know that's easy for me to say, but don't. Apply to Shiketsu. They're good,
real good. And they don't favor people like me. They'll take you in gladly. And they'll make you a
really good hero."
"Alright," the boy says. "Thanks."
"No problem."
They sit there until Ingenium comes out holding a pair of takeout bags. He tosses one to Izuku,
waves to the boy, and starts to walk off. Izuku follows, but something stops him.
"Hey, Deku." Izuku turns to see the boy standing. "Shinso Hitoshi."
"What?"
"That's my name. Look for it in the list of Shiketsu graduates three years from now!"
Izuku smiles and nods. "I will! I promise!"
Patrol after Izuku's talk with Shinso is pretty quiet. It's a blessing, really. It lets Izuku think about if
he did the right thing, and if Shinso can follow through on his commitment to becoming a better
hero prospect. While Izuku would like to think that U.A wouldn't be the right school for Shinso, he
can't be completely certain. But then images come to mind of the boy, baggy-eyed with slumped
shoulders as he sits in the auditorium, learning that he'll have to fight something his Quirk won't
work on. Izuku can see Shinso try and fail to think of a way to use his Quirk, and then, in a last-
ditch effort, hit the robots with whatever he can find. The dark scene ends with Shinso fighting
back tears as he's forced into the Gen Ed course, growing bitter and mean. It's not a fun story.
But Shiketsu will be better for him. Izuku remembers that they have one-on-one assessments for
applicants, so Shinso will have a better shot at showing off his Quirk, which any school would
want to nurture because, as depressing and unfortunate as it is, Brainwashing would be the perfect
Quirk for a villain. It'll be good for hero work, but the thing that everyone thinks of when they hear
that someone can mind control others is what crimes they could commit. It's another thing that
Izuku hopes he can fix when he's older.
"Hey, good work," Ingenium says for the hundredth time. "Really, those kids loved you. Sure, you
were a touch stiff, but that just made you look even cooler. Middle school students are obsessed
with the whole 'dark and broody' theme. Well, a lot of them are, anyway."
"Thanks," Izuku says, taking a quick look back at the school building. "How often do you speak in
schools?"
"A few times a year," Ingenium says, "but I only go to a specific school every few years—just to
keep it special. That way, the younger kids will have fond memories of my little bit, which means
that when I come back, they'll be even more excited than they were before. I also change up my
speech. You can't repeat things with them; they'll get bored."
"Interesting. My school never had a hero for a guest speaker. All we got was a… well, we had a
cop that came around and told us about how severe being caught with drugs was, and there was a
suicide prevention one my last year there," Izuku remembers, though not fondly. No one took either
lecture seriously, and everyone got punished for it. Except Bakugo, though, because of course he
didn't.
"Those are also good topics," Ingenium says, rounding a corner into a small plaza. "But I talked
about suicide prevention the last time I was there, and schools here usually do a good job of having
cops come in and explain the laws. It's, uh… I actually don't like that it's just Hosu that does that.
Like, I'm sure that other parts of the country do, but none of my schools did. It feels like…"
"Like they're profiling poor people," Izuku says, disgusted at the very idea of it.
"Yeah. It's awful, especially because the people here are great. I mean, look!" Ingenium points to a
man in the center of the plaza, casually strumming an acoustic guitar. In front of the guitarist is an
elderly couple, casually swaying in each other's arms. A few people stop and smile, and one
younger couple even joins in, to the delight of the people sitting on the nearby benches. "There's
nothing bad here."
"I know," Izuku says. "My neighborhood is… it's not poor or unsafe, but it's not rich or peaceful.
Uh, actually, I think it might have one of the highest villain attack rates in the country. But no one's
hateful—there aren't a lot of regular, Quirkless crimes. Everyone's just… not as well off as other
people are."
"There you go. That's the right way to put it." Ingenium smiles under his helmet and claps Izuku on
the shoulder. "People are people, and people deserve the benefit of the doubt, no matter their social
standing."
"Yeah," Izuku says, thinking of something to add, "but don't crime stats show that criminal and
villain activity are higher in lower-income areas? I'm not trying to say these people are bad or
anything. It's just—maybe some extra police isn't a bad idea?"
"There's two things I've got for that." Ingenium flips up the peace sign for a few teenagers, who
nod in return. Then, he holds his fingers out to Izuku and puts one down. "First: the population
density is greater here. Housing isn't the best, and everyone is cramped, so if you do crimes
committed per square kilometer, this is a pretty bad place. But if you do it by crimes committed per
person, it's not as bad. Second: criminals stick to poorer areas. It's, uh, easier to blend in with or
take advantage of the less wealthy."
"Then there should still be more heroes here," Izuku says. "I know it might be a little unfair, but it's
like you said. Criminals hang around here."
"It's a pretty messy situation," Ingenium says. "I agree that more protection is good. But I mean
that in the sense of people like you and me. Heroes just walking around, being seen, being known,
ready to help when needed. But some of the cops? They need to meet quota, so the precincts
around this city's precinct often patrol on the edges of the district, looking for crime. Heroes do it
too, looking to pad their stats. I know Fourth Kind likes to walk down here, intentionally causing a
ruckus so he can get a few arrests."
"Okay, that's illegal," Izuku says. "Right? I mean, we can't investigate without police or
government oversight, or without a PI license."
"He's not investigating anything," Ingenium says, shaking his head. "He's going to places where
drug deals happen, or where street gangs are a problem, and baiting people into doing something—
usually attacking him."
"That's wrong," Izuku says. "He's… he's a hero."
"Nah, he's got a plastic card in his wallet that lets him stop crime and do disaster relief." Ingenium
reaches for one of his pockets and pulls out his hero license. "This doesn't mean anything other
than you passed a test. Being a real hero doesn't depend on what the government says. It depends
on your actions, your words, your goals, and your character. Real heroes do everything they can to
help people that need it, card or no card."
"Oh," Izuku says, his own license suddenly feeling heavy in his pocket.
"It's still an accomplishment to get it, though." Ingenium slips his license back into his pocket. "It
means you're skilled. Just try not to put too much importance on the card, alright? It's just a piece
of plastic."
"Alright." Izuku reaches down to where he keeps his own card. It's hard to feel through his gloves,
but he knows it's there.
"Nice. I'm glad you understand that. Now—" Ingenium's phone starts to buzz, and the man
hurriedly ditches one of his gloves and his helmet to pull it out and answer. "Hello? Uh, the what?
No, I didn't hear anything about that. Today? I'm in uniform right now. How important? That's…
I've got a work study kid with me. Oh, yeah, totally. I'll just let Shota's star student wait in a prison.
Shota's going to be there? And… oh. That important. Um… yeah, I'll be right down. See you."
"What's going on?" Izuku asks.
"I'm not completely sure," Ingenium says, affixing his helmet with a serious expression. "But I do
know that it's at a prison and so serious that they don't want to explain it over the phone. Oh, that
was Midnight by the way. She's apparently there. And Eraserhead. And Mic…" Ingenium shakes
his head to clear his thoughts. "It's fine. You'll just wait in a room with someone. It's technically
part of a case, I guess? Nemuri wasn't all that clear. Anyways, let's go."
"Now?" Izuku starts to jog after Ingenium, who's wasted no time heading for a less crowded street.
"Yeah! It's apparently urgent. As in, I needed to be there ten minutes ago and didn't get the memo
for some reason!"
"Then wouldn't it be better if we flew?" Izuku calls. Ingenium stops his run and turns around.
"Yeah. Do you give piggyback rides?"
They're almost shot down outside of the prison. It sounds funny without context—Izuku knows that
Mirio will get a kick out of it later—but it's not so funny when a warning shot in the form of a huge
column of fire sails over Izuku's head, making Ingenium scream and him take a sharp dive. "We're
heroes! Heroes!" Ingenium tries to call. But a laser, red and terrifyingly warm, locks onto Izuku's
chest, and he decides that it's a good idea to land outside the maximum-security prison.
The glares they get from prison staff are legendary. The warden comes down to meet them, and
Ingenium apologizes profusely while Izuku hides behind him in an attempt to avoid a lecture. It
works, but only because Ingenium offers a good excuse and the warden admits that being in such a
hurry means that making a mistake is forgivable. Not that he's happy about it. The man makes it
clear that prisons are a no-fly zone for a reason, looking directly at Izuku. It's only after all of that,
and signing a few forms, that they're allowed in. And boy is it a weird experience.
There are four floors in the detention area, but there's hardly any floor at all. Catwalks connect the
individual cells, all linking up in one central area, which is different for each floor. Each catwalk is
only wide enough for one person to walk across comfortably, but the rails are all two meters tall.
The bottom level is the eating area, and there are no cells, only tables and little cat flaps on the
bottom parts of the walls.
The cells have no windows looking into the actual prison. The doors are a blank white with bold
black numbers painted on in no particular order. Some of the numbers are faded and chipping;
others sheen with a coat of fresh paint. The only sounds in the entire building are the low hum of
the heater and their sharp footsteps. It makes Izuku feel small and trapped.
"We're second after Tartarus, you know," the guard escorting Ingenium and Izuku brags. "That's
why we gave y'all a warning shot. The Pit woulda shot you down and made you swiss cheese for
all the sharks."
"Wonderful," Ingenium says. "Another reason why we shouldn't have flown. Why are we so
stupid?"
"It was my idea," Izuku mumbles. "I shouldn't have said anything."
"Aw, you guys are fine," the guard insists. "You only barely breached the zone we protect, and you
didn't even try to get over the walls or the fence. You gave our guards a right scare, though. We
were about ready to go on lockdown."
"You mean you aren't on lockdown right now?" Ingenium asks. He's long since discarded his
helmet at the visitor check-in, and his surprise shows as he looks around the building. "No one's
out."
"Oh, no, this is standard," the guard says. "We only let five of 'em out at a time, and only the good
behaved ones. Also, I'm s'posed to tell you that if you are taken prisoner by one of our lovely
residents, the government won't negotiate for your release. If you're grabbed, it's advised that you
don't fight back and wait for us guards to come get ya. But, uh… that's for civvies."
"I promise that we're able to handle most villains," Ingenium says.
"I know," the guard says, smiling. "But guess what? These"—he waves the barrel of his gun
around at the doors to the cells—"ain't your average purse-snatchers. Shit, even in this minimum-
security area, there's a few big names. You know Hacksaw?"
"Hacksaw is here?" Izuku says, looking around in shock.
"Yup," the guard says, almost proudly.
"She was only beaten by All Might. Endeavor got knocked out by her. She's here. In minimum-
security?" Izuku still can't believe it.
"Oh, she's not so bad. Can't do much now that her Quirk won't work, but she's still sorta feisty."
"Those two statements contradict each other," Ingenium says.
"Nah, they don't. Anyway, this door leads outside." The guard stops and rests one of his hands on
the massive frame of a heavy, steel door. "There'll be more guys leading you 'round. Just follow
'em and don't talk. They don't take kindly to unnecessary sounds."
"Perfect."
The door splits open without a single squeak or scrape. The friendly guard steps back, and a small
squad of less friendly-looking guards appears just outside the door frame. They're all dressed in
black tactical gear with full-face masks and impressive weaponry. All of them are nearing two
meters in height, and Izuku can tell that they're way more fit than the average person. They stand
stock-still for a moment before turning as one and marching off. Izuku and Ingenium follow, taking
light steps because the guns the guards have look scary.
The outside of the building is all dull and drab. Concrete is the primary building material, and
whoever designed the prison complex had a thing for brutalist architecture. Other squads of guards
march around, occasionally stopping beside the entrances of buildings or at random junctions. No
one walks in or out of the prisoner housing facilities. Every single one except the building they
walked through is locked up tight, and Izuku has a hard time even figuring out what's a door and
what's just a bit of a wall.
And everything is silent. Even the padding of the guards' boots is almost non-existent. It's very
clear that any escaping prisoner would have to get out without making a single sound or use brute
force to get through all the guards, which is impossible for most. A night escape would also be
hard since there are massive flood lights on the top of every building and the sides of the pathways
glow a bright white. It makes Izuku feel on edge, just being around so much firepower and stuff
designed to keep people out and in. And the fact that villains are locked up less than a few meters
away from him doesn't help, either.
It gets even worse when they reach their destination. The guards stop in front of a large, tough-
looking metal box and form two lines, one on either side. They hold their rifles so they're pointed
at the ground, but their fingers are only a few centimeters from the triggers. The message is clear:
they know Izuku and Ingenium are heroes, but that doesn't matter in the long run. Shifting
nervously, Izuku stares at the box. From under the earth comes a rumbling, deep and low and
almost primal. It slowly grows louder, getting closer and closer. Then, all of a sudden, it stops. And
the side of the box facing Izuku slides down.
"In."
Izuku jumps, looking around to see who spoke. It's impossible to tell, but the way the guards stare
at them, he and Ingenium aren't comfortable with waiting around to find out. They step inside of
the box, which can't be called an elevator because it's so cramped and tiny and industrial-looking.
The entrance seals back up, and they're locked inside with a single naked lightbulb to keep the dark
away.
"So," Ingenium says, drumming his fingers on the thigh platting of his armor. "Think we can talk
now?"
Izuku shrugs. "They're probably recording us, but that doesn't matter. Ma—" And then they start to
fall. Or maybe not quite, since their feet never leave the floor of the car. But it goes so fast that it
feels like they're completely free of any breaks or safety features.
It takes a few seconds, but eventually they start to slow. Izuku tries not to think about how bad it
would've been if whatever the prison is using to control the car failed mid-trip and sent them
crashing into the ground. The door slides open and Izuku steps out after Ingenium, who looks a
little green. They meet with another guard who says nothing, and walk in the only direction the hall
will allow.
It's cold, but Izuku's still in full costume, so it's not awful. Like the surface, everything is quiet, but
the aged paint and rusted support beams combined with the bright LED lights give it a more lived-
in feel. They walk past a few doors before stopping in front of a random one on the right. The
guard knocks twice and leaves. The door swings open, and a familiar face appears.
"Tensei," Aizawa says. "What took you?"
Ingenium steps in the door with Izuku on his tail. "I actually got here the fastest way possible," he
says. "I just didn't know that this was a thing. Does anyone know why I wasn't informed?"
"We texted you to meet us here," Midnight says, waving to Izuku from her seat against the wall.
There are no tables or chairs, so she and Present Mic, who's to her left, are forced to sit on the floor.
"Yesterday and today."
"Ah. Yeah, my phone's always on silent and I never look at it on patrol," Ingenium says, leaning
against one of the concrete walls. "Last night was pretty tiring, so I just went home and passed out.
I didn't even check it this morning when I woke up."
"That's on us, then," Mic says, much less cheerful than normal. Both he and Midnight are dressed
in civilian clothes while Aizawa's in his regular jumpsuit sans his capture weapon. "We should've
told you about this earlier."
"It's alright, I only almost got shot down," Ingenium says, the small joke failing to cut the tension.
"What even is this, anyway? Nem, you were really vague, but…"
"Not with the kid here," Midnight says, taking her glasses off and rubbing her eyes. Izuku catches a
look at her eye bags as she does, which weren't there yesterday. Or maybe they were and she just
covered them with makeup. "It's… dark. He'll wait somewhere and—actually, it's probably best if
he goes home."
"I can wait here," Izuku says. "I don't have anything going on. I'm sure you all want to be out of
here before it's late, too, so… yeah." He smiles awkwardly, still shaken up by the fact that Mic isn't
smiling.
"Our conversation might take a while," Aizawa says. "A long while. The prisoner has been
unresponsive and it's unclear if we'll make any progress."
"Do you have to dehumanize him?" Mic asks, shoulders slouched with his hands laced over his lap.
He slowly massages his thumbs against each other as he looks down. "I know you're skeptical, but
there's a chance. And even then, he's still a person."
"The prisoner is a child trafficker," Aizawa says, almost spitting into the floor. "As far as I'm
concerned, they're not a person anymore. They lost the right to the title. There's also a million ways
that the test could be wrong, and a million more they would explain why the results are what they
are. I'll wait to cast my final judgment until we're done, but right now it's not looking too good."
"He'd hate to see you like this," Midnight says softly. Aizawa's expression sours further.
"That's impossible to know."
"Sho," Ingenium says, resting a firm hand on his friend's shoulder. "Breathe. It's fine. We'll… we'll
figure this out later. I just want to know what's going on."
"O—"
"Not in front of Midoriya," Aizawa snaps, cutting Mic off. "He's been through enough already."
"He's a big kid, he can handle it," Midnight says, sternly glaring at Aizawa. "And he's through with
therapy. It's not the best metric of how good his mental health is, but he's doing a hell of a lot better
than us right now. You just don't want to deal with your feelings until you're forced to."
Mic raises both of his hands, worry crossing his face. "Hey, hey, easy. Now's not the time to get on
each other's cases. Nemuri, I'm just as hopeful and frustrated as you. Sho, I… look, you can't be a
stone wall forever. Remember what Houn—"
"No," Aizawa says gruffly. "That was private, and will only come into effect if the experiment
works out."
"Experiment?" Midnight scoffs. "That's low, even for you. That could be—"
"Not. In front of. Midori—"
"Could we all just—"
"Guys, what the hell is going—"
"You don't even care about—"
"I do care, I'm just taking steps—"
"Take a deep breath, both of you—"
"No, seriously, what's happening? Guys, I'm getting s—"
"Would it kill you—"
"Would it kill you to think—"
"Fu—"
"Are you ready to go?" The arguing halts and everyone turns to look at the open door and the guard
standing in the frame. He's shorter than the ones upstairs, but he's still at least a hundred and eighty
centimeters, and he's much more stocky than the surface guards. His face mask hides everything,
but Izuku gets the distinct impression that he's annoyed.
"Yeah," Aizawa says, casting one last look around the room. "We are. Will one of you take him
up?" He points to Izuku.
"No, that's against protocol," the guard says, turning around. "He'll have to wait in the camera room
with the others. No one is allowed to use the elevator when a prisoner is being interrogated."
"We can wait," Aizawa offers. The guard shakes his head, already beginning to walk down the
hall.
"There's people behind you, so move it!"
As the guard takes off down the hall, Aizawa jogs to catch up and passes him. The skinnier man
steps in front, stopping the guard in his tracks. "I'm not having a minor watch an interrogation."
"How old is he?"
"Sixteen."
"That's old enough, so you either move along and have the guy watch or you all go back up. Your
choice." The guard shrugs like he doesn't have a care in the world, and Aizawa glares.
"Fine. But I'll be telling the warden about this."
"Go for it. Now move!"
A few meters down the hall, there is a door. That door is a meter thick and made entirely out of a
shiny, sturdy metal. The door opens to another door, the second made of the same material but
smaller. The second door opens to a third that's smaller than the second, the third opens to a fourth,
and so on and so on until the last door, which is a circle the size of a porthole on a ship. Izuku
watches as his teachers disappear into the room beyond the doors before being escorted to a
different room further down. It only has one door, and it's pretty weak. But it's not an interrogation
chamber. Instead, the viewing room door opens to yet another familiar face.
"Detective?"
"Midoriya?"
The two stare at each other for a moment before the door closes. They blink in unison. "Nice to see
you?" Izuku tries.
"I… yes," Detective Tsukauchi says, standing up from the small table in the center of the room and
walking over to Izuku. "I wish the circumstances were better, but it's nice to see you." He holds out
a hand which Izuku takes.
"Yeah, uh. What are the circumstances?" Izuku asks, retracting his hand. "I know they're not great,
but I'm not sure what you and Aizawa have to do with it."
"Have a look at the screen," the detective says, pointing to the wall over Izuku's shoulder. Izuku
turns his head to the side and sees high-definition footage of purple and black smoke with yellow
eyes.
"Is that…"
"Kurogiri, yes," the detective confirms. "Why don't we have a seat?"
There are actual chairs at the table, along with a small coffee machine and a remote for the TV in
the room. Izuku sits next to the detective so they can both watch, but he has to push away a few
papers to have a spot. "What are these?" he asks, holding up a tan file folder.
"Case files for Kurogiri and Shigaraki Tomura." The detective plucks the file from Izuku's hands
and opens it. A picture of Kurogiri the size of a normal piece of paper is the first thing inside. The
detective closes the file and sets it down. "There's a lot more, as you can see. I've been busy
working on a string of murders and villain attacks, so I haven't had time to look everything over.
I'm going next, so I have to catch up quickly if I want to do a proper interrogation."
"Oh," Izuku says. "I could help if you'd like?"
The detective mulls it over for a moment. "I suppose that would be okay. You were on the case,
and you'd only sit there sneaking looks if I said no."
"I'd try not to," Izuku defends.
The detective chuckles. "I know. But you still would. It's not your fault; it's just how humans are.
Look at this one first, though. I've already been through it."
Izuku takes the offered folder and sets it down in front of him. "Thanks."
"You're welcome."
Taking off his gloves, Izuku takes a look at the file. The front of it reads 009027-792936 ['Sensei']
in bold red. Izuku opens it up and looks at the first paper, which is a sketch of a Japanese male in
his forties. There's nothing special about him other than his height, which is nearing two meters.
Turning the page over, Izuku reads through a scant profile of the man. He's the head of a human
trafficking ring, or at least they think so. It's unclear if he's an actual doctor or teacher or anything
else that would have Sensei for an honorific, but it's assumed that he has some medical knowledge
based on what his captured workers said.
It's also unclear how deep everything runs. The equipment he's said to have and the stuff that was
taken from the various hideouts is expensive and exclusive. Anyone would have needed access to a
medical license to get it, or, failing that, they'd need to know where to steal it from.
The other thing that points to some kind of conspiracy is the list of suspects. There's a lot, but only
a few match the height description. One of them—the man at the top of the suspect list, actually—
is dead. Two bullets, small caliber, to the back of the head. The cause of death is listed as suicide.
It starts a bone-chilling line of thought. Was this Sensei man actually killed by his backers? Or was
the human trafficking ring able to figure out who the suspects were and killed one to send a
message? Who are the backers? Do they even exist, or is Sensei a man in power? Why did they
even need so many children in the first place? Where did the ones they failed to save go? How big
is the whole ordeal? There are just too many questions for Izuku to feel safe. As far as he can tell,
those people are still out there, working to do something. Yes, their warper is locked up, but that's
only a temporary fix. Or is it? Maybe Sensei or whoever's in charge let Kurogiri get captured. It's
hard to say.
Frustrated from his fractured thinking, Izuku closes the file on 'Sensei' and picks another folder up
from the pile. This one is on Kurogiri. Like before, the first item is a picture, taken by the prison.
Behind that are a few pictures of Kurogiri with his eyes shut, one of him next to a meter stick, and
pictures from when he was being transported after his capture. Comparing the pictures to the man
on the TV screen, there's really no difference. Interestingly, though, Kurogiri has a real, solid body.
The metal thing he wore before was housing for it, and the prison replaced it with something that'll
shock him if he tries anything.
Turning the page, Izuku is met with a confusing list of names. He recognizes none, but the fact that
Quirks, ages, and body proportions are listed beside them piques his interest. He turns a few more
pages and finds a document outlining an investigation into who exactly Kurogiri is. The Quirk
database failed to turn anything up, and birth record searches were fruitless. The name Kurogiri is
accepted to be an alias, but there is simply no one in existence with a Quirk like his, which led
investigators to conduct a DNA test so they could figure out who Kurogiri's parents might be.
Izuku turns to the results of those tests and freezes.
Kurogiri has the DNA of ten people, but none are on the list. However, the ten people are all
married heterosexual couples who had children. Said children all disappeared in their mid to late
teens. Izuku grabs an earlier file and sets it next to the DNA test results. The top five share last
names with the males on the list. But the first name, circled in red with the title of another
document under it, is Shirakumo Oboro.
Izuku furrows his brow. The name is familiar, but he can't remember where it's from. He leans
back in his chair, trying to jog his memory. He looks over to Detective Tsukauchi, who's leaning
over his papers with his fingers massaging his temples.
"De—"
"Oh, dear," the detective says, flicking one paper aside to look at another. "This… oh, shit."
"Detective?" Izuku tries again. Tsukauchi jumps in his seat.
"Sorry," he says, looking back down at the files. "Just… read this one next, please. It's important."
"Then you should read this one," Izuku says, compiling all the papers that were in the file. "It's
important, but I can't quite understand it."
"Alright." The detective reorganizes his folder. "It's… we're being recorded."
"Okay?" Izuku says, gingerly taking the file. "What—"
"How about we take a quick break, actually," the detective says, reaching for the remote. "Maybe
the interrogation will help us understand the files better."
"Okay," Izuku says, looking at the TV as Tsukauchi unmutes it.
"—know who you are. Truly, this is the first I have seen any of you." Kurogiri's rich baritone voice
crackles through the speakers of the TV. "I don't know who you're talking about. I am Kurogiri,
Tomura's protector."
"Oboro," Present Mic says, sitting on a chair in front of Kurogiri, who's bound in a straight jacket
and chained to a chair. "That's your name. We used to have karaoke nights in your basement. I
always won."
"I don't—"
"You always wore those EZ-breathe patches," Midnight continues. "One day, I got curious and
pulled it off while you were asleep. You woke up—almost suffocated to death. I started carrying
boxes of them around after that, just in case."
"We used to race every day in class," Ingenium recalls. "Even if it was just a few feet, we'd try to
beat each other, and then the loser would buy the winner something. We had to call it quits after a
while because you ran out of money. I still owe you a few sandwiches, though."
All the attention falls on Aizawa next, who stands far away from Kurogiri, clutching his goggles in
his hands. He's looking downward, and his long, black hair hangs around his face like a shroud.
"Shirakumo Oboro," Aizawa says. "That's who they think you are. You have the right height,
DNA, and your Quirk matches his. But my friend would never hurt children—or anyone, really. So
you're not him. He's in you, though, Kurogiri. Oboro is inside of you, probably fighting to break
free. So either you'll let me talk to my friend, or I'll make you let me." Aizawa looks up at
Kurogiri. Izuku can't tell what his expression looks like, but from the tone of voice, Aizawa is
nearly heartbroken. "Talk to me, Oboro. Please."
Kurogiri freezes. His smoke starts wafting around, and his eyes fail to blink. He starts to shake,
vibrating the chair and the room around him. The guard in the room yells something and reaches
for a switch on the wall. Ingenium stops him. The smoke clears, and the foggy shadow of a person
peeks out of Kurogiri's restraints. From the way everyone in the room reacts, it's Oboro. But he's
not well.
"...stard… alive… he's… The. Bastard. Is. Alive."
"Buddy?" Mic says softly. He slowly starts to approach the chair, but Oboro thrashes wildly,
putting himself in danger of knocking himself out. Everyone backs off.
"The bastard is alive. The bastard is alive. The bastard is alive the bastard is alive the bastard is
alivethebastardisalivethebastardisalive, he'salivehe'salivehe's—"
Someone pulls the switch. No one's sure who. Kurogiri is hit with a powerful shock of electricity
and knocked out. In the interrogation room, Izuku's teachers fall to their knees. Izuku himself
momentarily forgets how to breathe. Tsukauchi mutes the TV and falls out of his chair.
"Detective!" Izuku cries, helping him up. "What's wrong? Are you hurt? Do I need to ca—"
"M'fine," the detective says, pushing Izuku to the side. "Well, I'm not, but things are more
important right now." He stands shakily. Izuku looks him over, trying to see if he hit his head.
"What's so important?"
"This." Tsukauchi points to a file. "And this." He points to another. "And, and, and all of them.
Why didn't I see the signs sooner?"
"Sir?"
"Human trafficking, human experimentation, it's, he's…"
"Sir."
"Fuck, the conflicting results of the DNA tests, your account from the fight in the bunker..."
"Sir!"
"The name 'Sensei', the access to impossible medical equipment, the fact that he's untraceable by
conventional means."
"Sir!" Izuku shouts, grabbing Tsukauchi by the shoulders. "What are you talking about?"
"Don't you see, Midoriya?" Tsukauchi's face is pale white, and his eyes are hollow and dead. And
Izuku begins to follow the line of thought. The vomit-inducing, bone-chilling, mind-numbingly
terrifying thought process that Tsukauchi has been having for the last ten or so minutes.
"All for One is alive," Izuku says, his words barely coming out as more than air.
"And there's no doubt he's coming for you."
Miles away, unaware and unconcerned with his imprisoned fakes, Izuku's greatest fear smiles, all
teeth and no lips, as he coaches a young girl on how to properly slit a throat. As she drags her knife
against the stolen corpse, All for One ruffles her hair and laughs. Soon. Everything will be in play
soon.
Chapter End Notes
Shinso don't belong at UA and I don't have room for him. Also he kinda overused so.
I'm just kicking to the side until I need him. If I need him.
Big thanks to my friend Jakugo on discord for helping me figure out how the last
scene would go down. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. Cheers!
Like this fic? Join my discord

https://discord.gg/hFPsxx9PkN
Dealing With Devils
Chapter Notes
This one's kinda heavy, at the beginning and sprinkled throughout. I can't properly do
a trigger warning without spoiling it, so you'll have to read at your own risk. Sorry.
As of August 12, 20021 this chapter has been edited by my beta, flauel.
Every muscle in his body seizes. His stomach tries to force its way out of his mouth. The world
darkens and begins to spin. He feels his knees give out, and he collapses on all fours. His heart
hammers in his chest, frantic like his mind. His breathing turns ragged. He dry-heaves, fighting
back bile. "He… he…" It's impossible to say. Every second he thinks about it, the walls close in
even more. He can feel himself start to suffocate. The room is suddenly too small for him to
breathe, and every shred of his instincts tries to get him to claw his way out. But he can't move.
Fear—vile, ugly, and oppressive—seeps into his chest from his mind and settles into his gut. He's
paralyzed, frozen solid like a statue. Or a corpse. The stench of blood and guts fills his nostrils,
stinging his eyes. He tastes the coppery liquid in the back of his throat. Not even the bitter taste of
vomit washes it away. He's trapped by his own sensory system, his body refusing to move no
matter how much he begs for it to run. Memories that aren't his start to flow, indistinguishable
from each other.
"Oh, brother dear. I still love you. But I can't let you run around. You've given me no choice."
"A pity. I really was curious. Oh, well, I guess the secret will die with you."
"Any last words?"
"How does that scar feel? Does it remind you of your master? He died crying, you know. He died
thinking that I was going to kill you and end this foolish legacy. He was right in the end."
"How pathetic. You think you're strong enough to stand up to me? I am All for One! The strongest
being to ever live. You are nothing but an ant for me to squash."
"Your master put up a better fight than this."
"A pity. I'll have to kill him next time."
"Do you know what your master felt as she died? Fear. Pain. Grief. Despair. I dragged it out,
making sure she knew just how poorly she chose when her master offered the Quirk to her. I
practically dissected her! It's remarkably hard to keep a human body alive without the lungs or
heart, but, with my expertise, I managed. Oh, how she begged for anesthesia."
He feels himself start to break. A tidal wave of nine generations worth of pain slams into him, and
he can barely cling to who he is. It's exhausting, and he feels him start to cry. But something else
stirs, a beacon in the storm. Light rises from the inky depths, and They whisper in his ear.
"Rest all that you need."

"Get back up stronger than ever."
"Don't waste this power, boy."
"You are safe. You are strong."
"Don't get scared. Get angry and get revenge!"
"There's no shame in sensible cowardice."
"Go ahead and cry, kiddo. It'll make you feel better, but get back up once you're done."
"Whenever you're scared or nervous about a fight, put on a smile! You'll trick your opponent into
thinking you're in control, and you'll start to think everything's okay!"
The storm wears itself down, and he slowly pulls himself back together. He breathes, deep and
even. His pulse is still wicked fast, and adrenaline still screams through his veins. Fear sits in his
stomach, dark and thick like swamp water. But he can bear it. Shakily, he stands. He brushes off
his front and swallows. He's thirsty, and he feels like he's aged twenty years in two minutes. But
he's alive. And so is All for One.
The thought almost makes him crumble again, but he holds fast. That monster had already broken
him down twice. If he's really going to face him one day, then he can't let him rule his mind. So he
takes the scared little kid deep inside of him—the one that's always been the source of the whispers
of self-doubt and fear—and shoves it away. He's in control. The him right now, who's one of U.A's
top students, who's saved lives and brought hope to those in need—that's who's in charge, calmly,
and grabs the detective by the arm.
"Grab the files. Let's go."
Danger Sense runs wild as Izuku leads Tsukauchi out the door. His mind is still screaming at a
million miles an hour, and One for All is desperately trying to pick up on anything that might be a
threat. But there's nothing, and once the Quirk is sure they're safe for the time being, the anger
comes. Izuku keeps an iron grip on the power. He has to, otherwise the whole lower level would be
ripped to shreds by Blackwhip. One for All wants to destroy All for One in particular, but right
now? With decades of peace and freedom from its greatest enemy robbed from it in an instant? It
isn't picky about venting its rage.
"We need to call All Might," Tsukauchi says, remarkably calm, though Izuku didn't have to be a
doctor or anything to know that the man's pulse is elevated beyond anything resembling his normal
resting heart rate. "He needs to know."
"All Might is patrolling right now," Izuku grits out, struggling against his Quirk. "There's no way
for us to contact him. We just need to get out of here and somewhere safe and secure. But where?"
"UA," Tsukauchi says, stopping in front of the door to the interrogation chamber. Nervously, he
starts to tap his foot. "Nedzu has an emergency beacon, just for him. We'll call your principal, have
him activate the signal, and drive over."
"Flying is faster," Izuku says. Tsukauchi shakes his head.
"Too suspicious. If he sees you flying away from where his henchmen are being held with one of
All Might's friends who's carrying an armful of sensitive files… we may as well post something on
the internet announcing his existence to the world. I'll drive us."
"We'll need to pick up Gran Torino, then," Izuku says, watching as the final door starts to unlock.
"He needs to know, too. How fast can you drive?"
"I've got sirens and flashes, so as fast as we need." Tsukauchi steps to the side of the door as it
swings open, tossing Izuku the files with a nod. Izuku frantically hides the files behind his back,
unsure if he needs to hide them. "Sir, I will not be conducting my interrogation," he addresses the
guard. "Please take us up."
"You're supposed to be extracting vital information," the guard says. "You better have a damn good
reason for this."
"I believe I need more time to analyze the data," Tsukauchi says smoothly. "In fact"—he reaches
out a hand and Izuku hands him the files back—"I'll be taking these with me. Locked in the squad
car, of course, and with a hero escort." The guard looks at Tsukauchi and then at Izuku. They both
hold firm, cool and confident in their lie.
"Fine," the guard says. "But the other four have to leave too. I'm not having them loiter in my
prison."
The elevator ride up is a mixture of tense suspicion and awkward sadness. Mic dabs tears away
from his eyes, and Midnight rests a comforting hand on his shoulder. Ingenium stares blankly at
Aizawa, his thousand-yard stare keeping all his thoughts away from prying eyes. Aizawa, however,
looks at Izuku with marked interest. Of course, Izuku can't tell exactly what the man looks like—
doing so would mean looking at him—but he knows he's being looked at like a piece of prey.
Probably as a distraction from Aizawa's feelings, but that's a small comfort. His homeroom teacher
knows something's up, and Izuku can't do anything to dispute it.
The elevator stops, dings, and opens. There's already another squad of guards lining the path out,
and the one who rode with them in the elevator joins the ranks. Izuku and Tsukauchi walk out
before the older heroes and quickly make for the exit. A handful of guards follow, keeping close
and holding their guns tight. Once they're through the minimum-security section, the check-out
process takes a short while. They all pick up a few items they couldn't take in, and the warden
takes them to the gate.
"I can give you the escort, Detective," Aizawa says, already walking to Tsukauchi's car.
"Respectfully, Eraser, I would prefer Midoriya for this," Tsukauchi says, blocking the other man
from getting any closer to the vehicle. "You… that was a rough few minutes, and you're tired. All
of you are. I suggest that you take some time off and rest. Your student will do a fine job of
keeping me safe—not that I'm in any danger!" he quickly adds. "It's just procedure. One person
cannot transport physical copies of sensitive files alone. There's little risk for us, though, and I'll
take us through crowded areas with lots of heroes."
"Fine," Aizawa grunts. "But both of you better check in when you get to the station."
"We will," Izuku says, catching Aizawa's eye. "I'll call you as soon as we get to the police station.
I'll make sure nothing happens on the way there."
Izuku and Tsukauchi wave goodbye to the teachers as they pull out of the prison parking lot. As
soon as everyone's out of sight, the detective floors it. There are no cars around, but the sirens start
to go off anyway. Izuku watches as the needle of the speedometer goes above one hundred fifty
kilometers. "Aizawa is going to have questions," Izuku says, feeling the engine of the car change
gears and rev up even more.
Tsukauchi's knuckles are white on the steering wheel. "One thing at a time." He signals right and
hooks a turn, barely dipping below one hundred before picking up speed again. "Worry about him
later. There's bigger fish to fry right now."
"Yeah," Izuku says, nervously looking out the window. He lets One for All bubble to the surface,
keeping it on a tight leash but taking the warmth of the lighting as a sort of security blanket. "Is this
what it was like? Back then, when he was around?"
"You mean were we scared out of our minds and living in constant fear?"
"That, yeah."
"No." Tsukauchi takes a turn into a highway ramp and merges at a hundred and forty kilometers an
hour. The small number of cars on the road change lanes to avoid him, and there are a few rude
gestures to be spotted through the windows. "I came in late to the party—two years before the fight
—but we had tabs on him. Nighteye was great at that. Even if we didn't know the specifics, we
knew something. Addresses, laundering fronts, suspects. Now, though?" Tsukauchi laughs
humorlessly. "We don't have a clue. We know he's kidnapping people for experiments, and we
have two of his men. But behind that, there's nothing. We don't know what condition he's in, how
deep his pockets are, who's under his thumb, or even why exactly he's hiding. That's why I'm
scared, Midoriya. I just don't know."
Izuku swallows. "We need to call Nedzu."
"Yeah, definitely."
Izuku dials with his gloves on, not wanting to have them off in the event of an attack. Nedzu picks
up on the second ring, and Izuku doesn't even let him get a word in before he yells, "All for One is
alive!" into the mic.
"Who?" Nedzu asks, and Izuku almost chucks his phone out of the window, but there's a click on
the other end of the line. "For the future, the code for a switch to a secure line is 'Care for some
raspberry tea'."
"Understood, sir," Izuku says, "but you heard me, right?"
"I did. Are you sure about it?"
"Completely. Detective Tsukauchi is, too. He's here with me."
"Hello!" the detective calls, passing a flashy-looking sports car. "Can't talk now; my eyes are on
the road."
"I thought I heard sirens," Nedzu comments. "But is there a shred of doubt in your mind,
Midoriya?"
"Not one. We have files and hard evidence to prove it."
"Oh dear," Nedzu says. "And Yagi's on patrol…"
"Tsukauchi says you have a beacon."
"I do. I'm on my way to hit it right now. Do you know where Torino is?"
"The gym," Izuku says, turning to the detective. "Head for Musutafu; we'll pick him up."
"I'd caution you against taking the main road. You're on the highway, correct?"
"How—"
"It's fairly easy to track a phone. But there's a villain attack on the main highway to—"
Up ahead on the road, a massive explosion goes off, the cartoonish mushroom cloud blowing to the
side and sending concrete flying. Izuku swears something foul.
"I take it you found it."
"Yeah," Izuku says, getting a little queasy as Tsukauchi slams on the breaks. "I can deal with it
quick."
"Heroes are already in response."
"I don't like the way you said that, sir," Izuku says, opening the door as the car slows to a halt.
"They're not strong enough to deal with the villain."
"Am I?"
"Possibly."
"Then I'll fight. It's my duty to the people, and their lives matter just as much as our meeting. I'm
giving you to Tsukauchi now. Detective!"
The last thing Izuku catches from Nedzu is a stern "Be careful!" as he tosses the phone back into
the car. The detective catches it and wishes him luck as he backs up and tries to find a way around
the disaster. Izuku takes a deep breath and calls for his power.
"You're mad," he says, taking to the air for a visual on the source of the explosion. Deep inside of
him, One for All snarls. "Yeah, I get you. I'm… I'm still scared out of my mind, but I'm mad, too.
I'm mad that I have to deal with him, I'm mad that I'm not strong enough yet, and I'm mad that I
can't go one day without getting into trouble." Izuku takes a deep, shuddering breath. From up
above, he catches sight of a hulking villain smashing apart the highway and batting aside heroes.
"We're both in luck, though. Someone's volunteered to be our punching bag." One for All screams
in glee, and Izuku grins as he starts to dive down. There are no news crews on the scene, but his
feral snarl will be burned into the memories of those watching.
“Bismarck Smash!” Izuku screams, throwing out two whips to bind the villain's arms and pulling
with all his might. His feet slam into the back of their neck, breaking their stance and sending them
crashing into the already broken pavement. Izuku wastes no time in tying their hands together and
screaming at the other pros around him to get the civilians to safety. But the villain isn't done yet.
"A new challenger!" the villain exclaims, standing up and straining against Blackwhip. Izuku
struggles to keep a hold as the villain's skin starts to warp and peel, pink fibers spilling out of them.
"Show me your blood!"
Izuku drops Blackwhip and pushes off the villain's back just as his enemy starts to spin. He files
through the air, carefully controlling his trajectory. A single strand pulls him back to the ground,
right in front of the villain. They're a large, blond male, approximately thirty years of age. They're
smiling, and Izuku feels his guts twist when he sees a red stain on the villain's pants leg.
"Ooh, you're a young one," the villain says. A writhing mass of pink and red breaks through the
surface of the skin on his right arm, enveloping the appendage in a form of body armor. "But you're
quick and strong, too. I'm gonna have fun killing you!"
The villain starts to charge, and a million things run through Izuku's head at once. The man is
strong and has some form of resistance to attacks. His Quirk is either a transformative or an emitter,
one that gives him supernatural strength. But how much? Izuku can't fight someone dangerous like
this without a proper read on their abilities. Making a move based on faulty information will get
him killed. So he charges too.
They meet in the middle, sending a shockwave through the air and ground around them. Izuku
braces himself against the mass of tendons and muscle fibers, screaming as every ounce of him
pushes. But forty percent isn't enough. The villain pushes him back, screaming in joy. He ups the
power level to forty-five percent and wraps his body up in Blackwhip, but it barely slows his loss
of ground. Realizing he's outclassed in terms of strength, Izuku ducks. The villain stumbles
forwards, and Izuku dives between his legs. Spinning, he sends them off balance, and they crash
into the floor. And then he starts to fly.
There's no way he can out-brute this villain. Their Quirk is simply better at generating force than
his upper limit with One for All, and Izuku hasn't seen how good they are at hand-to-hand combat,
which means that he's at an even greater disadvantage in a head-to-head clash. But he's never once
relied on raw power to get the job done. Below him trails the villain, swinging back and forth like a
pendulum as Izuku climbs higher and higher. When the air starts to turn cold, and the oxygen thins,
Izuku spins. The villain whips around him, over his head, again and again at insane speeds. With
one final spin, Izuku lets him go, and he flies higher into the sky.
"Milwaukee Air Force!"
His gauntlets slide down, cupping around his fists as Izuku pulls his arms down and punches
upwards. Twin columns of air burst into existence, spiraling right into the villain. They slam into
him, one to his stomach and the other to his head. Izuku doesn't let up. He keeps punching, aiming
for wherever the villain doesn't have his Quirk activated. The crotch, the throat, the ribs, the gut,
the feet, the hands, the eyes. Months of diligent practice and the occasional aiming lesson with
Snipe pay off. But his wind isn't quite strong enough to bring the villain down. However, it is
enough to stun the man enough for Izuku to close the distance.
And close the distance he does. Izuku knees the man across the jaw, flipping over his head and
slamming his fists into the spot between his shoulder blades. Muscle fibers spasm as the villain
instinctively lets his Quirk loose. Recognizing the danger, Izuku kicks himself away. The villain
starts to fall, picking up speed. Izuku watches him for a moment, waiting. When the time is right,
he goes into a dive, passing the villain and attaching a whip to the man's foot. He stops dead, and
the line pulls taught.
There's a snap in the air as all the energy the villain built up in his fall slams into his body. The
man dangles, limp. Calmly, though his heart is racing, Izuku pulls him up and checks his pulse. It's
a grave mistake.
"Die!"
The man grabs Izuku's wrist, nearly crushing it in his grip. Izuku cries out as he's decked right in
the face. Blood splatters, and a sickening crack breaks his nose. He and the villain start to fall, with
Izuku being used as a shield for the wind. And the ground. Izuku fights as the pavement grows
closer and closer. He digs his elbow into the man's stomach, but the impact is absorbed. Once and
only once he's sure there's no way for him to break free, Izuku goes to his last resort.
The villain is strong and tough. But his Quirk is the generation of muscle fibers. They're great for
absorbing blunt impact and shrugging off his punches. But they're not strong enough to ward off
penetrating attacks like the strand of Blackwhip Izuku shoves through the man's torso and out the
other side.
"What did you—"
Izuku breaks free, but the whip stays. The villain's eyes widen as he looks down at the black tendril
buried in him right above his hip. Izuku cocks his fist back and channels One for All into his arm.
It'll hurt, and no one will be happy with him, but this villain is too dangerous to warrant anything
other than complete security in his imprisonment.
"Smash!"
At one hundred percent, Izuku hits him in the cheek. It's absorbed by the muscle fibers, but not
nearly enough. The man goes limp, and a nasty bruise forms. Sighing in relief, Izuku wraps him in
a net of Blackwhip. One for All takes care of his arm on its own, gingerly cocooning it in darkness.
Izuku pops one of the capsules off his belt. He takes the gauze in his unbroken hand and presses it
to the villain's body. He makes sure it sticks there and wraps it around to the exit wound. The blood
is already clotting—probably a product of the man's Quirk—but he still has to act fast. He adds a
few more layers of bandages and secures them with a clip. Then he starts to descend, waving his
broken hand to the news helicopter that has appeared from somewhere. With all the adrenaline, he
hadn't noticed.
He really starts to feel the absence of the adrenaline when his feet touch the ground. Pain shoots up
his arm, and the wrist on his unbroken hand aches. A ring of heroes forms around him, and medics
take the villain. A few cops put restraints on the man, and he's loaded up into a transport van with
medical equipment.
"How's the arm, kid?" a hero asks. Izuku shrugs and tries to hide how it hurts his arm.
"Fine. Just sore," Izuku lies. He looks around at the pros and sees their worry. "Lucky I was
around, huh? Is everyone alright?"
"They're worried about my wife," the same hero says. He has a red full-body suit with a mask. It's
hard to tell what he's feeling, but Izuku can guess that it's not good. "You should get that looked
at."
"I'm going to UA right now," Izuku says, holding his broken arm close to his body. "Recovery Girl
will look at it. And I'm kinda in a hurry."
"Alright. I…" The man looks away for a moment. He looks at the heroes around him. "... You
probably saved our lives. All of us. We're not strong. Every single one of us working together
wouldn't have been enough to stop him. You actually stepped in right as he was about to… well,
you know."
"Y-yeah," Izuku says, thinking of the stain on the villain's pants. "I'm happy I could help."
"Me too. Take care of yourself, you hear?"
"I will."
The man nods. "Bye."
Izuku walks back to the patrol car, almost in a daze. Detective Tsukauchi greets him, leaning
against the hood. "There's no way for us to drive there."
Izuku stares at the car and then at the ruined highway behind him. "I need police or official hero
permission to use my Quirk for non-combat or rescue purposes."
"The paperwork is going to be a pain."
"We need to get to UA."
"... I'll put my seatbelt on. Eraserhead gave you a call, by the way."
"Don't tell me. Please."
"He's not happy."
"Of course he's not. Oh, and we still need to pick up Gran."
"Nedzu has that covered."
"That's one good thing, at least."
The flight to U.A is painful but short. Izuku is greeted by Snipe on the front lawn, who takes him
right to Recovery Girl. He gets a quick lecture and a kiss on the cheek. It makes him exhausted, but
the fatigue clears his mind, in a weird way. Nedzu fetches him and Tsukauchi from the medical
wing and leads them to an elevator, different from the one Izuku took when he tested Danger
Sense. It drops, and no one dares to make a sound.
"All Might," Izuku says as soon as the doors open. His mentor stands from his seat in a plush-
looking recliner and pulls him in for a hug.
"Are you alright?”
"I'm fine. Er, no, I'm not, but… yeah," Izuku says, pulling away. "Are you okay?"
"Not in the slightest," All Might admits. He looks up and over Izuku's head at the detective and
Nedzu. Izuku nods to Gran, who's behind All Might in another chair. There's no visible response. "I
suppose we better get everyone up to speed."
"That would be best," Nedzu agrees. "There's tea, but I don't think anyone's in the mood. I will,
however, get the fireplace going."
"Fireplace?" Izuku asks. Nedzu simply hits a button on his watch, and the far wall opens up to a
roaring fire. It brings some much-needed warmth to the cold, concrete room. Izuku sits on a chair
beside All Might and tries to relax.
"The first thing you should all know is that this is the only room where our plans for dealing with
him are to be discussed," Nedzu says. "Because we're not dealing with Midoriya's secret getting out
to regular villains anymore. We're going to be planning a war from now on. Our moves must be
kept secret."
"We don't have enough bodies for a war," Tsukauchi says. "It's just us, isn't it?"
"I haven't heard from my old contacts in a while," All Might says. His eyes bore into the fireplace,
dead and lifeless. "That's… it should've been the first sign. But, Detective, you said there's even
more proof?"
Tsukauchi clears his throat. "Yes. Shall I?"
"The sooner the better," Gran Torino says, also staring into the fire.
"Right." Tsukauchi launches into a summary of the evidence he has in the files, and recounts the
way Shirakumo Oboro spoke through Kurogiri's body. As he does, he hands out a file to everyone
else. Izuku gets the one on all the medical equipment seized from the warehouses, All Might gets
the one on Kurogiri, Nedzu the one on Sensei, and Gran gets one Izuku knows he and Tsukauchi
haven't looked at yet.
"... But I don't know what to make of it. Human experimentation isn't out of his ballpark, but to this
extent?" Tsukauchi shakes his head. "I just don't know."
"Well, he's injured, right?" Izuku says. "He has to be. You thought he was dead. He had his brain
caved in. Maybe that has something to do with it?"
"Quirks put strain on the mind," Nedzu says.
"So he can't handle all the powers he has anymore. He has to make those things,” Izuku says.
"That's a positive. But also a negative. He's not as powerful, but he'll have more units to work
with."
"Dividing and conquering will be easier," All Might agrees, "but there'll be more work than last
time. I'm still worried about how he managed to survive and how he hid it from us."
"He must have an in with the funeral and medical industry," Tsukauchi says. "Embalming liquid
was found in one of his bases, and so were life support machines."
"I'll get to work following the paper trails," Nedzu says. "We know where his body went according
to official documents. I'll start with the cremation service and the EMTs responsible for taking him
to the hospital."
"I'll pull some police-exclusive files. His old fronts aren't around, but I bet there's ties to new ones,"
Tsukauchi says. "Remember Yogi Hardware? What's to say there's not a Banjee Brewing Company
out there?"
"Yogi Hardware?" Izuku asks.
"One of All for One's schemes," All Might says distantly. "He opened a chain of stores with a
similar name to mine around the time I went to America. I came back to Japan to find a Yogi
Hardware store on every corner, the mascot of which was a grizzly bear with my hair."
"That's…" Izuku trails off.
"A roundabout way of messing with me," All Might says. "All for One is petty and good at getting
in your head. There might be a Madoriya Milkshake shop opening up soon."
"Let's not dwell on that for now," Nedzu says. "We need to keep planning. Torino, would you be
able to check in on some of All for One's former employees?"
Gran stares deep into the fire. He looks down at the file in his hands and takes a deep breath. He
closes the folder and throws it into the fire.
"Sora—"
"Gra—"
"Tor—"
"Shut up, all of you," Gran snaps. "Toshinori, do you realize what's happening right now?"
"N—"
"Don't answer. You're probably wrong anyway. We're currently in a race with that bastard, if the
rest of you didn't realize. He's trying to pool all his resources together and get them set for
something. My guess is that it's for an attack, or an attempt on Toshinori's life. Every day he grows
stronger, and every day…" Gran turns to All Might.
"I grow weaker," All Might says. "But Izuku grows stronger."
"So? It's still one less One for All wielder for him to deal with. He'll try to get you first and then
the boy. You know how he's all about cycles and patterns."
"So what do we do?" Izuku asks. "We're not just sitting here, but only gathering info isn't enough if
you're right. We need to move."
"Well—"
"I'm not going to America," Izuku interrupts. "Sorry, I… I'm scared, but this is my home. My
friends, my mom, my life… I can't leave. And… as foolish as it is, I don't want to run from him.
That would be like admitting defeat, and the last thing I want is to lose to All for One before I even
see him."
"You won't be leaving the country," All Might says. "UA is secure enough. In fact, Nedzu, could
you take care of Izuku's mom?"
"A house will go on sale today, a block from the gate to the school," Nedzu says. "She'll be able to
pay cash for it."
"Perfect. You and your mom won't have to relocate. But I…" All Might turns to Gran. "Do you
think Chiyo is still willing to operate?"
"She won't be happy," Gran warns.
"But she'll do it."
"What do you mean by 'operate'?" Izuku asks. "Are you going to get some kind of surgery?"
"Yes," All Might says, tapping his injured side. "It's the operation I put off after facing All for One
the first time. The healing process would've taken months, and I didn't want to waste time. But
now? I'll take it for a better shot at fighting him and his forces on a level field."
"You'll destabilize the country," Nedzu says.
All Might shrugs. "I'll be quiet about it. Not that it'll help. In my opinion, it's still worth the risk to
get some of my strength back."
"I'll be out there while you're not," Izuku says. "It won't be the same, but One for All will still be
saving lives. It will, right?"
"We won't keep you locked up," Gran says. "It wouldn't work if we tried. But we do need someone
to take you."
"What?"
"Sorahiko will be busy with checking in on All for One's old men. Nedzu has to deal with digging
up old files. Tsukauchi has police work. And I have to heal." All Might laces his fingers over his
lap. "We can't train you personally anymore. I'll need to find a spot to rest, and I won't have a hero
form at all, otherwise I'd take you on as a sidekick."
"You're welcome at UA," Nedzu says. "Teach a class or two as Yagi Toshinori. You'll be close to
Midoriya but safe and secure."
"Wouldn't he try to kill you?" Izuku asks. "You won't be able to fight back."
All Might laughs hollowly. "All for One won't kill me because I can't fight back. He hates me.
More now than he did before, almost definitely. He wants the satisfaction of killing me at full
power so he can lord over all of my achievements and claim that you'll fall just as easily. Slitting
my throat as I sleep won't do anything for him."
"Alright," Izuku says, finding a sort of morbid understanding in the sentiment. "That… okay. But I
don't know what you mean by finding someone to take me. I have Ingenium."
"Idaten was a great place for you to get a feel for patrol again," Nedzu says. "However, it's not a
place where you could grow at the rate we need."
"When the day comes, you and I will fight him together," All Might says. "I need you to be ready
for it as soon as possible."
"So I'll need to find a good agency. Somewhere with lots of strong heroes, a history of dealing with
difficult villains, a demanding schedule, and a powerful, experienced top pro," Izuku lists. "I…
there's a few places like that, but one in particular…"
The five of them talk late into the night, refining the details of their plan. As they prepare an
application for Izuku to take to the top hero agencies in the country, the DNA test results of one
Shimura Tenko burn to a crisp.
[x]
Desmond lights a cigar and takes a puff, looking at the dreary sea beyond. Waves crash against the
craggy rocks, and showers of spray reach for his boots. He taps some ash off the end and inhales
the air. The smell is more of a home to him than the cottage at his back is, and he longs to swim.
But a quick dip won't feed his appetite. The waters here are too shallow and too well-monitored for
his type of fun. So he takes another hit from his cigar, and the tobacco eases his need for the sea.
"It was so simple to find you, and yet remarkably hard."
Desmond doesn't turn, nor does he jump. He does, however, commend the speaker for their skill at
stealth. The cobbles leading up to his vantage point are loose and uneven, and he's usually very
good at keeping track of his surroundings.
"I'm no' special," Desmond says, taking another puff and turning to face his uninvited guest. "'M
just an old man living out the rest of his days. And you…" Desmond trails off and raises his
eyebrows. "Yer a kid with shite English. Get off me land, eh?"
The kid laughs. It's high-pitched and scratchy. Almost ear-piercing, really, and his greasy hair and
beady red eyes do little to make him more pleasing to the eye. "I'll stay right here, thank you," he
says, scratching his neck. Desmond looks him over and sees a finger sticking out of the boy's
pocket. He doesn't react visibly, but he gets ready to shift, just in case. "Anyways, you weren't
hiding that hard for a man of your caliber."
"Most alcoholics pushing sixty don't try to hide very hard, yes," Desmond says, and the kid laughs
again.
"No, no… I mean for a man of your power level and infamy." He spreads his arms wide. "This
used to be yours, you know."
"Still is. I own the deed for the soil yer gettin' on them god-awful sneakers."
"Sure. But the seas aren't yours anymore."
"I don' know what yer talking about."
"Oh? But every person I asked about you pointed me here. To the lair of the Scottish Cyclops."
Desmond's left cheek twitches against his eyepatch. "I see the kids in town still have shite
nicknames."
"Yes, they are quite derogatory. I wonder how they'd react if they knew who you really are."
"You're goin' to have ta stop beating around the bush, boy," Desmond says, spitting into the dirt.
"I've been a lot of things in m'life."
"Fine." The boy slips his hands into his pockets in a peculiar manner. Weirdly, he keeps his pinkies
out of them. "Tell me why the Great Red Whale is rotting in a shack in northern Ireland."
Desmond scoffs. "Yer a Jap, ain't ya? I can tell from the Engrish accent. And it's right fucking
obvious why. That damned All Might of yours 'sa reason." He puts his cigar out on the leg of his
pants and chucks the remains on the ground. "How the fuck did you even piece it together,
anyhow?"
"You never died," the boy says. "There were no reports of you being defeated. You hid. It's
obvious that you'd be alone since no one reasonable would want to live with the terror of the
Atlantic. It was just a matter of finding the right town and the right eye injury."
"Lotsa people got missin' eyes."
"And how many have a triangle cut into the flesh around their socket? That scar you took the day
you brought down Scotland's oil rigs is quite distinct."
"If yer talkin' ta me, you know why I ain't givin' you what you want."
"I would never dream of taking from you," the boy says, taking a step forward. "I only wanted to
see what one of the greatest looked like."
"You wanna play villain, don't ya?"
"Oh, I've done more than play already." The boy takes another step. "I'm wanted in ten countries
by eight aliases."
"Congrats. When I was twenty-two, I brought world trade to a halt for nine days."
"Yes, yes, you old-timers love preaching down to us." The boy continues to move forward, cool
and cocky like all twenty-somethings are when their balls get too big for their own good. "But I
think you'd benefit from listening to the younger generation speak," the boy says, and suddenly
they're centimeters away. Desmond glares, spits on the boy's shoes, and swings.
The boy ducks, but Desmond tackles him, laying him into the dirt and cobbles and decking him
across the face. The boy doesn't even fight back, but he grunts in pain as Desmond wraps his hands
around his throat and starts to strangle him.
"Where tha' fuck did ye learn that name, eh? Who're you and what do ya want?"
The kid wheezes, and his hands grab onto Desmond's wrists. But his pinkies don't touch, and he
smiles. "G-got you," he spits out, though his words slur and carry an even heavier accent than
before.
"The fuck are y—"
The ground opens up, but the earth stays put. A massive black and purple hole appears under the
boy, smoky yet cold. Gravity kicks in, and Desmond falls. There's a brief moment of unnerving
cold and darkness, but soon the sea breeze and overcast sky return. The boy cackles in glee and
spins mid-air so Desmond has his back to the waves. Eyes wide, Desmond tries to break free. But
the boy grabs his shirt, and the cloth disintegrates.
"Use it," the boy says, not bothering to stifle his laughter. "Show me your power!"
Left with no other choice, Desmond takes a deep breath and fully shifts for the first time in twenty
years. The air around him heats up, merging with his flesh and bones. His skull warps, and his legs
mesh together. His eyes spread apart, and his field of view changes. He can no longer see to the
left. The air becomes painful to be in—he feels wrong, unsafe, unwanted—but the sea below
beckons, and Desmond twists mid-air and dives.
A forty-meter, immeasurably heavy sperm whale crashes into the waves of the North Atlantic,
stirring up waves thirty meters high in sixty-meter deep water. The rust-brown color sticks out in
the icy grey waters, and a crest of water from his blowhole does little to hide Desmond's position.
"Impressive. Amazing, even," he hears the boy say as he starts to swim for deeper water. "But
mine's better."
Suddenly, there’s a burning, searing pain in his left eye. The boy has somehow managed to reach
his eye and touched it, and Desmond can feel it dry out and crumble. He screams in pain, but it
comes out as a deep moan. He shrinks down, shedding his blubber as he tries to swim in human
form. But another one of the portals catches him, and he washes up on land with a groan.
"M'eye. M'fuckin' eye! I'll kill you, you bastard! I'll fuckin' lop yer damned hands off and eat them
as the whale!"
"Take care of his eye before he dies."
Someone or something plunges a knife into his socket while two others hold his arms down. With
surgical precision, Desmond's milky white eyeball pops out of his head and into the sand below.
Someone holds a wad of cloth over his eye socket, and he watches the blind eye finish crumbling
into dust.
"Much better, no? You still can't see, but at least you can get a fake." The bastard kneels before
him and looks at him with calculating eyes.
"'Sat what you planned? Take m'fuckin' eye and offer a fake? Shove a stick up yer arse and fuck off
to hell."
"I can offer you much more than a fake eye. You said that you quit your crusade because of All
Might. Well, he won't be a problem for much longer."
"You can' kill 'im. He's unbeatable."
"Maybe he was back in your day, when he could've taken a vacation to Britain and killed you with
one punch. But he's old now. Broken down and taking an extended vacation."
"An' so am I," Desmond spits. "'M fifty-eight. I ain't fast. I ain't as strong as I was. I'm half-blind
and I'm lame in one leg. And I'd never work for the likes of you!"
"Oh?" The boy stands and crosses his arms. "You won't work for me? I think you'd better hear my
offer first, before you pass on the opportunity of a lifetime."
"I haven't a choice," Desmond says, straining against the two young men who hold his arms in
place.
"You want the ocean to be yours. You wouldn't risk hiding by it if you weren't. But All Might and
the world governments would kill you the minute they spotted your back surfacing for air. Like I
said earlier, All Might isn't a problem anymore. He'll be dead within the year."
"And the government?" Desmond asks. "Scotland and Ireland have got massive navies, and I don'
fancy my chances against their modern depth charges."
"That's where I can help you." The boy turns and points out to sea. "That's north, correct?"
"You're a fucking idiot."
"It is," the boy says, ignoring Desmond. "You see, a thousand or so kilometers that way, there's a
country called Iceland."
"Ooh, ye passed geography class. Do ye want me to take you out for ice cream? So we can
celebrate you havin' a brain in that skull o' yours?"
"Iceland is weak. Militarily, and in terms of heroes. They're also one of the countries where the
Quirkless are the majority. Their government is also limited. It makes them a perfect target."
"You're planning an invasion."
"I'm planning a coup."
"Yer daft. Iceland is small, yes, but it's still a country. The military will put up a fight and call for
aid, and the people? Them Icelanders carry guns ‘cause they don't have Quirks. You go knockin'
on doors looking for politicians in hiding and you'll get a nine-millimeter shoved up your nose."
"That's the beauty of it. I'm not planning an invasion. I'm going to bring the heads of state under
my thumb. The military will go with it, and the people? They'll barely tell the difference. I'll be
king, and no one will be the wiser. And you? You'll get to swim in Iceland's waters as much as
you’d like."
"For what cost?"
"Two years of service, starting the day you swim my men to Reykjavik. You'll have a few months
off while I build my forces, and after that, you'll follow me to Japan. But once I'm done with you,
you're free. The Atlantic will be your home again."
"You'll need more than your warper, doctor, self, and two goons to do it," Desmond says. "You'll
need a whole fucking army."
The boy smiles, creepy and wide. "Let him stand."
Desmond gets up shakily, shoulder-bumping the men that restrained him. He looks over his
shoulder and freezes. At least a hundred people stand on the beach, milling about in tents and
around a small fire. Every single one of them is clearly battle-hardened and strong. And no two
look alike. Mutants are the most common, and they're a varied lot, but the amount of different
colors and sizes of people is uncanny after spending so much time in a small Irish town.
"Not quite an army," the boy says, "but enough to topple a government. What do you say?"
"Well, no is hardly the right answer, now, is it?"
The boy laughs, and so do his men. Desmond spits into his hand and holds it out. The boy takes it
with two fingers, light and delicate like he's holding a rose. "Shigaraki Tomura."
"Desmond Doss."
The sun sets, obscured by dark clouds. The wind howls and screams, blowing in from the north. It
appears that Mother Nature herself knows of their little deal. Desmond smiles and scoops up some
saltwater in his hands. He splashes it on his face. The Red Leviathan will return. He can feel it.
Chapter End Notes
We'll be catching up with Toga and Twice in the next one. Izuku's new agency will be
revealed, and there'll be a scene I've been itching to write for a while. We're getting
into the final Arc before cannon now. It'll be short, like five chapters. Then we'll
finally get to what you've all been waiting for. I hope you enjoyed. Cheers!
Like this fic? Join my discord!

Smile. If You Can
Chapter Notes
As of August 12, 2021 this chapter has been edited by mh beta, flauel.
All Might Announces Temporary Retirement!
There was a great shock last Monday when All Might, Japan's number one hero for over three
decades, made an appearance on live television to declare his desire for a break.
"I love my work and every person I help," he said, "but I am no longer a young man. I started
feeling the toll of decades of backbreaking work a few years ago but pressed on in the name of
upholding my duty as the Symbol of Peace. Today, however, I'm sad to say that I cannot push on
any further without a break. So I will be taking a vacation of sorts. A few months of rest and
recuperation will do me, and all of us, good! Please understand that I am not abandoning you. If
some great calamity were to happen, I would be back in a flash. There is also little to worry about
in terms of villain activity. There will be a spike, yes, but I have faith in the other heroes of Japan
and the world. I know that they can more than handle it—I wouldn't be taking time off otherwise.
Think of this as practice for when I actually retire, and please keep hope in your hearts. This will
be the last time I speak for some time. Goodbye to all."
Critics of All Might's actions argue that the broadcast was perhaps the worst way to announce a
vacation. "He could've just stopped patrolling. It would've been weird, and maybe a little scary, but
villains would've been scared, too. They probably would have started to get more bold down the
line, but it would've taken some time, at least! Now I have to worry about getting mugged on the
way to work!" one woman wrote.
While All Might's announcement is in question, his decision to take a break seems to be understood
by all, and even appreciated. "I like that he was honest with us," a man interviewed in the park
said. "I grew up watching him, and my parents looked up to him as teenagers. It's… hard to think
that he's human, too, you know? But he is. And we don't last forever. So if you see this, All Might,
take a break! We know you'll be back for us! Your health is important, too!"
While the overwhelming consensus from civilians is that of caution and understanding, pro heroes
are divided. Some see All Might's vacation as a blessing in disguise. Others voice their anger and
frustration. Most are worried.
"I always try to look on the bright side, you know," local hero Fat Gum said. "I understand why the
big man is taking some time off. I'm not even thirty yet and I'm slow to get up some mornings after
rough days. But I couldn't help but think of the worst when I heard. All Might… he's more than a
symbol. He's a leader. Sure, he mostly works solo, but to all of us on the ground? He's our sun. Or
maybe a mountain. Big and imposing and always there. It's like when you have a bad day and you
go to bed. The sun will come up because it always has. It's something you can count on. But now
that sun is gone, and we have to fend for ourselves. Sorry, that got kinda dark. We'll pull through—
all the heroes I know are tough and strong. We won't let this stop us from keeping civilians safe.
But we're worried, too. And…" [continued on A-2]
Troubles in the North Atlantic
Less than twenty-four hours after All Might announced his extended leave, news broke that the
president of the Republic of Iceland had been assassinated.
President Jon Olafson was found dead in the Bessastadir at six AM the morning of September 28.
Initial reports claim that President Olafson was strangled to death with a rope; however,
Thallium, a slow-acting poison, was found in his system. A country-wide search is currently being
conducted as the chemical was banned by the Republic of Iceland in 2205.
Suspects have already been arrested, but the cooks, maids, and security officers that were taken
into custody have been released due to a lack of evidence. They are currently under close
government surveillance. The current, most agreed upon theory is that the assassin snuck into the
Bessastadir and laced the president's food with the poison, but resorted to strangulation when the
slow-acting Thallium didn't kick in fast enough.
The motive for this murder is a hotly debated topic, and one that has shown no signs of producing
a result anytime soon. President Olafson was well-liked by both his military and his people. The
Icelandic government is considering the assassination to be an attack from a foreign nation, but
experts are clueless as to which. Iceland, while lacking in major resources other than fish, is in a
strategic position geographically. Major powers in the North Atlantic like Ireland and Canada
have been courting the nation for over a century. If President Olafson's assassination was
organized by a foreign power, six independent countries with substantial military might were
unable to stop it.
Although only three days have passed, mass protests have already broken out over the lack of
results in the investigation. Olafson's replacement, former vice president Gunnar Gustavson, has
assured his country and foreign dignitaries that progress is being made.
"This isn't a thing we want to rush. Jon was the first world leader to be assassinated in over fifty
years, and we have no motive, hard leads, or understanding of how our security failed. We must
move calmly and with careful precision. However, you should rest assured. We will find who's
responsible for this and…" [continued on B-2]
"Print news is dead, you know?"
"My phone's dead and I wanna read."
"Sensei has novels!"
"I'm not touching those."
"Why? That's a smart move, actually. No, it's not!"
"Sure. Anyways, everyone won't shut up about All Might and politics, but no one's talking about
Izuku. He's what's really interesting."
"Ugh, ever since you got here, it's Izuku this, Izuku that. It's annoying! You have great taste in
boys, my dear."
"I know. If only he'd have a taste in girls…"

"Hey, chin up. You'll get him someday! You're an unlovable vampiric psychopath—who I find to
be an amazing person."
"... Thanks. I think?"
"You're welcome!"
"… 'Kay. I'm just gonna. Read. Um, does the doctor need you?"
"He—"
All for One chooses that moment to make his presence known, appearing from the shadows to
stand over the table his apprentices are seated at. The room temperature instantly drops five
degrees, and both of the children stiffen. "Sensei," they say, dipping their heads in matching bows.
All for One grins at the sight. Both are much more respectful than Tomura ever was. Perhaps the
doctor is right.
"Himiko, you'll be with me for the next few hours. Jin, find something to occupy yourself. Don't
get caught or arrested."
"Yes, sir!" Twice salutes and walks off, opening the door to the hall of the complex and shutting it
with a slam. All for One waits until his footsteps disappear to speak.
"Your first assignment is today," he says, taking the newspaper from her hands. The article on
Iceland is on top, but he's long since memorized it. Either Tomura is making moves or the old
whale has gotten sick of playing dead. Either option is interesting in his opinion, but he can't help
but feel eager when thinking about the Red Leviathan attempting to reclaim his title as the greatest
threat to public safety in the public eye. And the fact that everything is subtle and perfectly
executed…
"Do you think you can handle it?" All for One asks, saving that line of thought for later.
"Would you give me something I couldn't handle?" Himiko crosses her arms and leans back in her
chair. All for One doesn't reply. "I appreciate your honesty," she says, "but I want to know the
details before I make a choice."
All for One chuckles but opts to not tell her that she has no choice. "It's a simple retrieval—dead or
alive. Adult male, two meters in height, one hundred and eighty kilos in weight. He's currently
being transported to a maximum-security prison for holding until his trial."
"I can't break into a prison," Himiko says, "I'm good, but not that good. And there's no way for me
to get someone that big here."
All for One smirks. "He's in transport. It will be tough, yes, but there will be an opportune moment
for you to strike. And as for getting him here? You have a Quirk for a reason."
Himiko stares at the table for a moment, slipping one of her knives out of her sleeves and fiddling
with the grip. "How does this get me closer to Izuku?"
"It's helping me," All for One says, "and helping me is helping yourself. If you want to figure out a
way to get him without me to rely on, you're free to leave. But until I have his Quirk, you cannot
have him. Once that day comes, however, he's yours to keep."
Himiko looks skeptical. All for One takes her flat expression in stride and pulls on one of the walls
with a telekinetic Quirk. A TV slides out, already on. With a flick of his wrist, the screen changes.
A high-definition, close-up shot of the Ninth's fight with the villain appears. The video starts to
roll, showing how the boy fights the man and suffers grievous injuries.
"Do you think you could get that on your own? When he has that level of power?"
"... No," Himiko breathes.
"Exactly. Work for me, help me steal his Quirk, and he'll be yours. In the meantime, bring me
Muscular. Dead or alive, he is useful to our cause."
Himiko slinks out of the laboratory with a knife, an empty vial, and a few disguises ready to be
used. All for One keeps a close eye, tracking her every move as she boards a train out of the
district. As of yet, she has no criminal record, and, if she's good enough, it'll stay that way. It's her
first real test. Before, he was focused on giving her the bare minimum skills to get by. Killing
efficiently, keeping calm under pressure, acting, and judging situations are all key to any successful
operation, but it's how one uses those skills that determines the outcome. If Himiko is to replace
Tomura, she must use her tools to their fullest potential.
All for One makes his way back to his viewing room, checking up on his Nomu on the way.
They're ready, and could cause an awful fright. But the time isn't quite right. With All Might taking
a break, heroes and, more importantly, the government are on edge. They're waiting for something
to happen. In time, they will grow tired of the stress and start to slip. When they all start to smile
again, he will strike.
Plugging himself back into his life supports, All for One grins. The Day itches closer. And his
enemies are none the wiser. Oh, what a fool All Might is. Whatever procedure he's getting to
prolong his career in hopes of stalling the transfer of the top spot to Midoriya Izuku will be his
undoing. The human body can only heal so fast, after all.
[x]
Okay, so. Job interview. Izuku's never had one. Ever. The closest thing he's had was the video he
put together before going to work for Ingenium, and he had help for that. Today, though, he has to
walk into a hero agency and talk with one of the best pros in the country. By himself.
Izuku fidgets in his seat, adjusting his face mask so it stays tight over his nose. The hood of his
jacket is up, and a pair of sunglasses hang from his collar. He looks like a thug, or maybe a
mugger. Then again, maybe not. He's dressed in somewhat expensive clothing—his red shoes
shine with that fresh-out-of-the-box gloss, and his jacket is custom from the merch deal. Most
criminals on the street don't waste money on nice clothes. But he almost has to. Per his mother's
orders, he put on his best outfit for the occasion. Considering that it's a pair of slacks and a green
button-down, it could be worse. He's so lucky he doesn't own a suit and that the jacket doesn't look
out of place. The last thing he wants to do is to tie a tie.
The train slows to a stop, and the doors open. Izuku stands and picks up his costume case, which
has been painted a matte black since the U.A costume cases are kinda recognizable. He slips his
sunglasses on as he walks through the station, trying not to look shady. Once he gets out onto the
street, he walks three blocks and takes a left. The tallest building in the entire city—rounded on one
side and square on the other, it juts out like a fist into the sky. Izuku gazes up at the burning E
above the front entrance and removes his mask and glasses. He takes his first step into the Flaming
Hero Agency. And almost instantly walks out.
The inside is cold, a ridiculous level of cold. Izuku feels goosebumps form under his jacket and
shirt. It's hard to properly guess the temperature, but it's definitely under eighteen degrees Celsius.
The lobby is also fully packed—not with civilians or business people, but with heroes. They laze
about, on their phones or simply chatting. One is passed out on a waiting chair, and another tries to
shove pencils up their nose. Izuku awkwardly stands in the door, very much tempted to check the
sign above the door to make sure that this is, in fact, the highest-rated hero agency in the country in
terms of saves.
"Yo! You with the green hair! Up front, now!" Izuku looks to the back of the room where a desk
sits. A woman in a hero costume sits at it, her feet propped up on the wood as she files her
fingernails. Her computer screen shines light on her costume, sharing that she's obviously watching
a TV show or video online. "Hurry up, I'm busy!"
Izuku hurries over, avoiding the crowd of heroes who don't even bother looking at him. "Uh, hi,"
he says, "I'm Mid—"
"Name?"
"Midoriya Izuku from UA—"
"Age?"
"Sixteen."
"School?"
"UA High…"
"Reason for visit? Please note that if it's to complain about a poor fan and hero interaction you had
with Endeavor, it should be submitted online at our website."
"I'm here for an interview," Izuku says. "I made an appointment for nine-thirty and I'd like to check
in."
The hero's eyes suddenly become more focused, and Izuku catches the faint scent of gunpowder
coming from her hair. "Oh? What's your hero name?"
"Deku."
"Are you strong, Deku?" she asks. "'Cause we get a lot of kids from UA in here, thinking that they
can get in because Number Two is an alumnus. But he doesn't take weaklings, and you'll find his
standards are impossibly high."
"I think I'm strong enough," Izuku says.
"Care to elaborate?"
"I care to make it to my appointment on time."
The hero laughs. "Nice. You can head up—top floor. Knock on the door. He's busy, but I don't
care. Also, don't be too rude when he's grilling ya. He likes strong people, but delinquents are
another thing."
The elevator car is outside the building, and rather than having a regular shaft to hold it, the thing
just slides up and down on a set of tracks. It's all glass, too, and watching the ground gradually get
smaller and smaller feels weird. Izuku's used to feeling the air when he climbs, and experiencing
the near weightlessness Float gives him. The elevator takes both of those away, leaving him with a
sinking feeling in his gut that tells him he's going up.
When the elevator dings, the doors take a moment to open. Once they do, not a sound is made.
Izuku admires how soundlessly the two parts slide into the wall before stepping out in front of a
large, red double door. There are no handles or buttons on it, and the thing looks blastproof. It
sticks out against the ash-grey walls, and the fire carved into it looks like it was made by a master
artist. Carefully, Izuku walks forward and raps his knuckles on the door. It opens immediately, and
Endeavor himself stands over Izuku in full hero gear, glaring.
"You're early," he huffs, his flaming beard rising with his chest.
"The woman at the front desk sent me up," Izuku says, fighting the urge to step back. "Um… thank
you for having me?"
Endeavor glares even harder. Izuku holds the man's gaze, looking into his eyes. Despite the heat
that rolls off him in waves, Izuku feels cold in Endeavor's presence. Cold, but not afraid. On guard
might be the right word. He knows he's not in danger, but he feels compelled to show his strength
and respect. It's a completely different feeling from when he was with Hawks, or even when he's
with All Might. "Come in."
Izuku walks through the door and finds that Endeavor's office is very plain. There's a filing cabinet,
a muted TV tuned to a news station, a desk with some chairs, and a computer. No decorations, no
photos, not even a houseplant. The window behind the desk offers a nice view, but it does little to
liven up the room. Izuku sits on a chair with his case on his lap, wondering if this is the actual
office or just a room to conduct interviews in. Endeavor walks over to the window and looks out at
the city below.
"Why do you want to do a work study here?"
Izuku taps on his costume case, trying to suppress any other nervous ticks that might come up.
"You're one of the best," he says, "and I want to be one of the best when I'm older. I figured that
the best way to learn is by watching someone who knows a lot about heroics and being at the top
of the rankings."
Endeavor crosses his arms and continues to stare out the glass. "And you didn't go with All
Might?"
"I couldn't have. He's… well, he's on vacation right now, and he doesn't take work study trainees."
"He sparred with you at UA. It's clear he has taken a liking to you. You also set up this interview
before he announced his vacation." Endeavor turns and stares at Izuku, but doesn't sit. "So why my
agency?"
"Well, I think it's the best fit for me," Izuku says. "All Might… he's amazing, better than everyone
else and better than I could ever be. I could learn a lot from him—I already did in that one spar.
But he's All Might. I… most of his fights end in a single hit. He's skilled and very smart, but if I
went with him, I wouldn't get to see a hero work hard and get creative with their surroundings. But
you have a fire Quirk." Izuku's eyes trail to the man's beard, and he starts to wonder if he's ever
accidentally burnt food with it.
"It's dangerous. Volatile. You must've worked tirelessly to use it at the level you do, and to take
something that could easily kill and use it to carve out a spot among the names of the greatest
peacekeepers ever. I want to do the same." Izuku pauses to take a breath. "My Quirk is weird. It has
a mind of its own, and it can do some real damage if I ever let it slip. But it's also strong, just like
yours. I want to be like you in the sense of taking something dangerous and pushing it to its limit
before using it to save."
Endeavor stares at him for a long while, and Izuku wonders if he said the wrong things. Then
Endeavor grunts and pulls out a drawer from his desk. "Sign this," he says, sliding a piece of paper
and a pen over.
"Did I get the job?"
"No." Endeavor walks over to the filing cabinet and retrieves a folder from the top compartment.
He tosses it to Izuku. "You've convinced me to give you a shot, but no matter how wise and
carefully worded your reason is, I don't take time-wasters."
"Right." Izuku quickly signs the paper, finding that it's a waiver for injury. Then, Endeavor leads
him to the elevator and takes them down ten floors, which is still high up enough for the view of
the city to be spectacular. The doors open to reveal a room of lockers. Izuku can hear a shower
running somewhere, and the sound of a blowdryer echoes through the room. They walk through,
stopping at a set of wooden doors that are marked Arena.
"Get changed and stretch," Endeavor orders, opening the door and taking a step through. "You'll be
fighting hard for a while—if you can last long enough."
Izuku quickly suits up, making sure every part of his costume is in good condition. He feels a wave
of nervousness kick in when he lays his hand on the door handle, but he suppresses it as best he can
with a deep breath. Then, he turns the handle and steps through.
The Arena is just that: high walls, a flat bottom, and a ring of windows above the main floor. It
takes up three stories, and everything looks sturdy. The windows are reinforced, and the floor and
walls are made of some kind of metal padded with thick foam. Izuku tests the strength of it with a
light kick and finds that it's almost as hard as concrete but gives a little under him. He looks up at
the windows and finds Endeavor on the other side of one, arms crossed.
"Try not to pay too much attention to him," Izuku hears someone say. He turns around to see an
average-height man with massively broad shoulders. His skin is tanned, and a turban wraps around
his head. Smiling, he strokes his thick beard. "I know what it's like to have to perform for him. Just
try to block him out for now—it'll happen on its own later, but it's best to get the ball rolling early,
no?"
"Are you who I'm fighting?" Izuku asks, admiring the man's hero costume. He's wrapped up in a
blue parka and snow pants. His hands and feet are bare, and a line of frost travels around his chest.
Does he have a snow or ice type Quirk? If he does, it's very weird. Endeavor is known for taking in
flame and heat types.
"The first of many, hopefully," the man says. "It depends on how good you are. Shall we get
started?"
Izuku doesn't reply. He's too busy ducking under a wave of icy blue flame. Risking a look behind
him, he sees that the fire sticks to the wall. However, instead of burning, frost spreads across the
stone. "Come, now! Don't get distracted!" Izuku dives out of the way of another blast, rebounding
off a wall and going in for a pass on the hero. "You have nice instincts. Let's see if you're quick
enough to act on them!"
A column of flame divides the room in half, turning the air around it to ice. It's bright and flashy
but not at all a targeted attack and, therefore, a feint. Izuku spirals around another blast, this one
smaller but more densely packed with power. Izuku feels a rush of cold spread along his back, but
he pushes more power into his body, winding up for a massive punch.
It's foolish to attack the exact front of an opponent. It's why neither he nor the hero is surprised
when Izuku zips up to the ceiling, assisted by Blackwhip. Launching himself with his hands, Izuku
prepares to kick the spot right behind the man's feet. But in a surprising display of reflexes, the
older pro looks straight up. He smiles, bringing his hands together in a blaze of blue and cold. A
solid wall of ice forms, jagged and uneven. Izuku twists, bending himself around a few of the
larger spikes before tensing. The impact and subsequent rush of wind pulverize the ice. With a
poof, Izuku's immediate surroundings go from grey and blue to pure white. Blinded, he activates
Float and bursts away.
Exiting the cloud of cold air, Izuku tries to get a read on everything. The fire that hit the walls is
still burning, licking at the stone and turning it a shiny white. Whatever the man's power is, it's
strong and stubborn. Another blast of flame comes, directed right at his head. Izuku jerks to the
side, reflecting a follow-up attack with a flick of wind from his fingers. More white clouds his eyes
but less than before. Izuku dives to avoid a slash and kicks an arc of air in the direction it came
from. There's a whoosh and even more air clouds.
Realizing he can't keep letting his opponent blind him, Izuku opts to dodge instead of block. He
starts to dash around the room, making sharp turns and varying his speed. He looks for an opening,
but every time he gets too close, the man makes a wall of ice, and Izuku is forced to look for
another angle. As he moves, the flames and frost grow along the walls, floor, and ceiling. He starts
to be more careful when he rebounds off of the hard surfaces, not wanting to slip and lose his
footing. Eventually, the cold grows to encase the whole room, and he can no longer bounce off the
walls. Not that it's a problem for him.
"You're trying to get a feel for me. That's great!" The attacks slow, and Izuku finally gets a
completely clear view of the hero again. He's still rooted in the spot where he started attacking and
is still smiling. But his cheeks have turned from a light brown to an icy white, and the tips of his
fingers and toes are blue with cold. "But messing around when you're uncertain can be disastrous!"
Before Izuku can wonder why, the man raises his arms above his head and pulls. The blue fire
roars, spinning around the room and lowering the temperature another twenty degrees. The air
starts to sting his lungs and throat, and his eyes water. The fire draws in on the hero, cocooning him
and his costume in an impenetrable wall. It explodes outwards after a moment, dousing the room in
snow and hail. Izuku feels his costume freeze solid in an inch and a half of ice. He flexes, causing
it to crack as he pours heat into his skin. He tries to fly off, but he can't move his body. The ice is
supernaturally strong.
"Try not to sit still, now!"
Izuku takes a blast of the fire right to his chest just as the ice starts to fall off. It's so cold that it
almost burns. His heartbeat starts to slow, and his fingers go numb. But Izuku grits his teeth and
pushes. Lightning cracks, electrifying the air with green bolts. His skin goes from pale white to
glowing with orange and red lines. He backs away, wary of another hit. As he does, One for All's
heat battles the cold fire. His teeth chatter when the flames lick at his jaw, but he breathes deeply.
He's not going to lose. Not like this.
With a grunt of frustration, he pushes up to sixty-five percent. It's enough to visibly make his
muscles spasm, and if he so much as twitches, it would tear his muscles to shreds. But the heat
raises his body temperature enough to kill the flames and turn the remaining ice into steam. He
backs off on the power, holding firm. He looks at the older pro, who gazes back with icy eyes and
an arched eyebrow. Steam seeps out of his pores, swirling in the air and mingling with the frigid
draft created by the man's last attack.
"What next?" the hero muses. His blue fingers play with his beard which is now powdery white.
"Do you continue our little game of cat and mouse? Or are you smart enough to try something
else?"
Izuku spits on the floor, not out of disrespect but out of curiosity. The saliva fizzles as it falls,
boiling off on the cold hard ground. He's way overheated. He also can't keep doing what he's been
doing. Luckily, there's a human-sized air-conditioning unit right in front of him.
Done with the fancy maneuvering, Izuku rushes the man head-on. He meets another wall of ice. It
crumbles after two forty percent punches. There's another one behind it, and another after that. He
keeps moving forward, occasionally feeling out other parts of the room with Blackwhip. He even
tries to send a strand around, but the man fends it off easily, seemingly strong enough to fight on
two fronts at once.
The battle devolves from a match of skill to one of brute force. The older hero is good—amazing,
even—but he can't dodge forever, and the pressure Izuku's putting on him is too great for him to
risk letting his walls down to get away. It's brutal, almost. They're not trying to outplay each other.
They're simply throwing everything they have at each other until one breaks—and Izuku's not
going to let it be him.
A black-coated fist smashes through the final layer of ice. Izuku grabs the man by the shirt collar,
holding him up in the air. Frost works its way down his arm but much slower this time. Blackwhip
wraps the man up from his head to his toes, leaving only his face exposed. "I win?"
The hero tests his bindings. "Yes, you are the victor. Good job!"
"Thank you," Izuku says, letting the man down. "Um. What's your name?"
"Frostfire," the man says, straightening his turban. "It's not very original, but I have no need for
theatrics or public recognition."
"I understand that."
"Good! Was that your first time fighting against an ice Quirk user?"
"You could hardly call that an ice Quirk." Izuku points to a small flicker of flame still burning on
the floor. "It defies the laws of physics, and it's way stronger than any natural ice. I only broke it by
tapping into my upper limit of power."
"Yes, it's quite interesting," Frostfire says with a smile. "The fire isn't fire at all, but rather a
manifestation of my body's heat. Or lack of it. My normal temperature is twenty degrees below
zero. Celsius."
Izuku's eyes widen. "Woah."
The man nods. "Yep. I—and bear with me because this makes no sense from a science perspective
—can toss out my body's cold like fire. It still burns, but it grows hotter as it dies. I can pull it back
inside of me"—he holds out a hand to demonstrate and the small flame travels to his palm—"but
that heat comes with it, too."
"But you look like you have hypothermia," Izuku says, pointing to the man's blue fingertips. "And
that ice is still way stronger than naturally possible. At least in the amounts I was hitting, anyway."
"Oh, that's because I'm backwards," Frostfire chuckles. "Feel." He holds out his hand to Izuku,
who takes off his glove and touches his fingers.
"They're hot," he says, mystified.
"Yes. I'll have to take an ice bath soon or I'll collapse." Frostfire retrieves his hand and ignites a
flame in his palm. "The ice I can make is so strong because it's not exactly ice. I sent a sample of it
to a local lab, and they found that the water content is around thirty percent. The rest is nitrogen,
with a little bit of carbon."
"… That shouldn't be possible," Izuku says. "I'm not a scientist, but solid nitrogen…"
"Quirks are bullshit, young man," Frostfire laughs. "It's best not to think about it. Now, I'm going
to take a nap in a freezer. Remember to not waste time!" He walks off with a pep in his step,
waving. Izuku says goodbye and awkwardly stands around. His eyes start to drift off towards the
ceiling, and he catches Endeavor's unimpressed eye.
"Oi, we're next!" Izuku faces the door and sees a tallish woman and an average-looking man. Both
wear hero gear, complete with masks and, not so strangely considering where they are, fire
extinguishers. The woman's hair burns acid green, and the man's eyes glow like hot coals. Izuku
isn't surprised when he dodges a pair of lasers and a wave of green fire a half-second later.
The second fight is much shorter but also more intense. Izuku gets in close first thing, using his
body as bait as Blackwhip grabs at their ankles. Both of them are mid-range fighters and wisely
ward him off with fire and lasers. Izuku is durable, though, and much faster than any normal
human. He dances and weaves around their attacks, ending the fight with a single tackle. He
would've used an air blast, but they're inside. He doesn't want to cause any unnecessary damage.
The third fight starts right after the second. Two more heroes join just as Izuku drops the two he
defeated moments earlier. Frostfire appears to be an outlier in the agency because no one is
particularly powerful, at least compared to forty-five percent of One for All. They're smart, though,
and have amazing strategic thinking. They keep around two meters apart at all times—close
enough to back each other up but far enough apart to make area attacks easily dodgeable. It's
frustrating, but Izuku comes out on top. And then, he fights again with three new people added.
Round after round passes, each one getting harder and harder. It's clear that the pros are holding
back to an extent, but they definitely aren't taking it easy on him. The more people he has to fight,
the more dangerous it becomes to go on the offensive. If he picks one off, he has to take a few hits.
If he uses Blackwhip to target all of them, they all rush and hit him with everything. It becomes
painfully obvious that Izuku needs to work on doing bigger and bigger attacks while on the move
because, by the time there are fifteen pros, he can only dodge.
"That's enough."
Everyone in the room freezes and straightens their backs. All eyes fall on Endeavor, who stands at
the door of the area. "Midoriya, stay. The rest of you, resume your normal duties." The pros clear
out, some giving him high-fives or nods of respect. Izuku smiles back, dead tired and dripping in
sweat. After about a minute, he's alone with Endeavor, who offers nothing but a cold look and two
words: "Fight me."
[x]
"And how did that go?"

"I lost. Badly." Izuku rubs the skin of his forearm through his jacket sleeve. He knows it's pink and
completely hairless.
"I'm not surprised."
"I'm not either," Izuku agrees. "He's skilled and powerful. But for someone who doesn't have
enhanced speed, physical strength, or reflexes, he… his instincts are just amazing." Izuku stretches
his arms, working out a few knots. "No matter how hard I tried, he just knew where I'd be, or he
figured out what I would try to do. And he's really good at using his Quirk to move."
"You did tell him that he took something simple and dangerous and used it to become one of the
best."
"Yeah. I… I'm really glad he decided to take me on."
"Ah, you got the position." All Might, slimmed down and in a heavy trench coat, smiles. "That's
wonderful. I'm not close with the man, but I know he's the real deal. Learn a lot from him."
"I will," Izuku says.
"Good," Gran says, rapping Izuku's shin with his cane. He's ditched his hero costume for a simple
grey suit without the tie. "What you felt back there was the difference in experience. You're so
damn fast that it doesn't show a lot when you get moving, but Endeavor's a monster. He claimed
the number two spot at twenty and held on to it, even with hard competition. You've seen his
fights; you know how quickly he ends them. I think it's a miracle you lasted more than ten
seconds."
"Thanks." Izuku rubs the back of his neck, smiling crookedly. "I hope I can beat him one day…"
"You'll beat everyone at full power," All Might chuckles. They turn a corner and walk through a
stone archway with a wrought-iron gate. "I'm surprised that first hero could block a forty-five
percent smash."
"I was too," Izuku admits, "but I talked to him after. He's been training for years to be able to make
ice that strong. And even then, I could still break it."
"True," All Might agrees, "but just know that you're physically stronger than most heroes, now.
You should fight like it."
"Huh?"
"Talk about it later," Gran says, stopping at an intersection of the path. "We're here for a reason."
"Right," All Might nods. "Izuku, are you okay with this?"
"Of course," Izuku says. "You've wanted to take me here forever. And it's my history as well as
ours, All—"
"Toshinori from now on, kid." All Might smiles. It's a mixture of joy and melancholy. "I won't be
him for a while yet. Best to get used to it before I go under the knife."
"Right, yeah." Izuku stares at the graveyard around him. "Which one…"
"Over here." Gran leads him and All Might around a corner and stops at the first monument. It's
short but broad, with a stone gate surrounding a few square meters of grass. Shimura, the top of the
pillar reads. Below that are names. Nana is the first, followed by Kotaro, Nao, Hana, Tenko, and—
"They were all murdered," Gran says grimly. "You ought to be careful, Midoriya. He…" The man
trails off, closing his eyes.
"Not here," All Might whispers. "Another time. Right now, we must be happy." He forces a smile,
gently prodding Izuku to do the same.
"Why?" Izuku can't help but ask. "It's… this is a graveyard."
"Yes," All Might says, still smiling. He holds out a bouquet of flowers. "You'll see, don't worry.
Help me lay these out. We can let Gran have his peace."
The main pillar has all the names, but the ashes are buried in the small plot of land the Shimura
family has. Izuku puts a few flowers down by each mound of earth. Little Tenko gets four, Hana
three, and the adults two. Each mound has a small marker, naming who is buried and giving a few
words about them. Izuku tries to smile as he does it, but it's hard. The flowers, bright and pretty,
stick out against the cold grey of the graves. It makes his stomach turn. Could his mom…? No!
"Over here, Izuku."
He walks over, mouth dry. Izuku kneels beside All Might, who sits elegantly before the final grave
on the right. Most of the flowers rest there, hiding the marker from view. Izuku can guess what the
name is.
"Smile," All Might encourages. "It's okay to."
"It still doesn't feel right."
"That's fine. Here." All Might takes one of Izuku's hands. Moving the flowers, he rests it on the
gravestone. "What does it say?"
"Smile when you think of me," Izuku reads. "My body's gone. That's all."
"Nana wouldn't have wanted us to be sad," All Might says. "She… she understood grief and the
importance of letting yourself cry. Understood it perfectly, maybe. But now that the tears are dry,
and the dirt has settled, she would want us to be happy. 'It's a waste of a day if you don't smile,' she
liked to say. She was also a big believer in remembering the good. So smile, for her and for
yourself. She lives on in you, you know."
"Y-yeah." Izuku's chest warms, and his eyes start to water. "I… okay."
All Might wraps him in a warm hug, and Izuku cries into the man's coat. Strangely, or maybe not
so, they're happy tears. They still run down his face and soak into All Might's coat like sad ones,
but they feel lighter, like he's being pushed forward by a gentle hand rather than being dragged
down by grief.
"Let's go home."
Izuku gets one last look at the graves before he leaves, burning them into his mind. The smell of
incense and flowers floats through the air, and the clouds cover the sky. It starts to rain as they
walk out, which is a good thing. It lets Izuku put his hood up. Because for as good as he felt, seeing
Nana's final resting place, something had to come along and ruin it.
He lays awake in bed that night, dead-eyed. There are four Shimuras, plus Nao's parents, who are
buried somewhere else. But there were five names on that pillar. Four, and one that shouldn't exist.
It chills his spine, and Izuku starts to feel himself slip. Miles away, the gravestone of his nightmare
grows slick with rainwater. The droplets pool inside the crevices and the engraving. The flowers
All Might put before it wilt from the pressure of the ensuing downpour.
Shimura Hisashi. Father, fighter, friend.
Chapter End Notes
Lol
Cheers
Filling the Cracks
Chapter Notes
As of September 26, 2021 this chapter has been edited by my beta, Flauel.
There is no Shimura Hisashi. Shimura Hisashi doesn't exist. He never has, and he never will. Yet
his ashes are buried with the rest of the Shimura family, right between Nana and Kotaro.
Izuku panics, because of course he does. His father is dead and gone and resting six feet under. Or
is he? The Shimuras were all killed by All for One. It means that All for One got to his father, or…
well, there are plenty of options his restless mind supplies. Maybe the Hisashi in the graveyard isn't
his father. That would be a relief. But a simple internet search shows that the number of Hisashis in
Japan is less than a hundred, and most are old enough to be Nana's brother, not her son or nephew
like the dates on the grave suggest. There's only one where the date of birth and death line up. So
it's likely that his dad is dead and gone, but Izuku doesn't know why.
Was he killed by All for One? Newspaper articles from the time of the Shimura family murder
claim that the remains of six different bodies were found, not seven. And the name Hisashi isn't
even mentioned in the original articles either as a survivor or a victim. He only appears later, in
small bits and pieces on Nana's career published ten years after the fact. Around the time Izuku
was born.
It's clear that something is wrong. Looking back, Izuku's sure Hisashi's grave is newer-looking
than the others. But if it was put there at a later date, the graves would have had to have been
moved. By a Quirk. Again, everything points to Hisashi being in league with All for One. But
why? Or how? Or when? Nothing adds up. There are no answers. And if the graves were moved,
Izuku wonders, then how did All Might and Gran not notice? Are they brainwashed?
A whole new cloud of worry overtakes his mind, but Izuku downs a glass of water and forces
himself to breathe. All Might was in America for a while, and when he got back to Japan, he was
always busy. It's not too much of a stretch to say that he forgot what the Shimura grave looked like.
He's just being paranoid. He needs to calm down and think everything through again.
Shimura Hisashi was born forty-eight years ago according to the gravestone. Izuku's mom is
nearing forty, but she's always talked about his dad like he was a little bit older. The age is just
about right for him to have a kid. Maybe more than one, considering he was only with his mom for
a short while. But that's only if the date on the stone is correct.
Allegedly, Hisashi died at thirty-two, which checks out with the date of the Shimura family
murder. With a quick look at the graveyard's website, Izuku finds a small profile on the man. He
worked for Shale Shipping as a brand ambassador and an actuary. He also kept the books for
docking in Japan.
Shipping. I don't remember the name, but it started with an 'S'. Shi-something. Or maybe it was
Sha?
It checks out. Shale Shipping was launched when Hisashi was five or so, and they specialized in
moving delicate and dangerous cargo all around the Yellow, East and South China, and Philippine
seas, with occasional stops in Hawaii and New Guinea. According to his bio, Hisashi went to work
for the company at twenty-four. He quickly rose through the ranks, becoming a high-ranking
official and the brand's Japanese ambassador, tasked with getting companies in the country to use
Shale. The fact that Hisashi doesn't have a birth certificate, doesn't have a record of existing in
Japan, ever, and doesn't have his Quirk in the registry means the whole thing reeks of criminal
involvement. And what villain would need dangerous and delicate cargo hauled long distances and
has the power to start a whole company to do so? All for One.
But then he died in the Shimura murder. Which doesn't make sense because his mom talked to his
dad when he was little—like five or six. Izuku remembers because it was after they found out he
was Quirkless. So if the Hisashi in the graveyard is his father, the stone is fake. Does that mean his
father is alive? Did he ever think his father was dead? Not that he can remember, but his mom
never talked to the man after that trip to the doctor all those years ago.
Frustrated and confused, Izuku climbs out of bed. His alarm clock shows that it's two AM, but he
doesn't feel tired at all. He quietly opens his bedroom door and slinks out into the hallway. Boxes
line the walls, full of clothes and other knick-knacks. They're moving soon, to the house Nedzu
picked out for them. Everything is being packed up, and the books his mother keeps are stored
right by the door. The box mostly contains novels and a few cookbooks, but there's one photo
album on top—a book he's seen a handful of times but never felt the need to open. Izuku pushes off
the dust and takes a seat on the couch. By the light of his phone, he starts to look through it.
The first few are from right after he was born. His father isn't present, but there's one on the third
page that gives him what he's looking for. It's of Izuku, swaddled up in a yellow blanket, being
held by a man sitting on a recliner in the living room of an apartment. The man is tall and skinny,
with thick, chin-length black hair and blue eyes. Freckles splatter across his cheeks, roughly
forming two diamonds. His smile is bright, showing a hint of teeth. Turning the page, Izuku finds
another picture of him and his father. This time, Hisashi has some stubble on his jawline. The
camera must've been faulty because the hair looks red. Or maybe the hair on his head is dyed.
Squinting, Izuku tries to look for signs of red in the man's hair, but there are none apart from the
beard. But his t-shirt catches Izuku's eye. The characters for Shale Shipping are printed across the
chest, and a flower is printed below. It's partly obscured by baby-Izuku's head since he's sitting on
Hisashi's lap, but the flower looks like it has eight petals.
After quickly flipping through a few more pages to get a better feel for Hisashi's appearance, Izuku
closes the photo album. Then, he opens a search engine on his phone. He pulls up Shale Shipping
again, this time trying to find pictures. There are none. There's an address of where the
headquarters used to be, lists of sales and purchases, and the names of board members, but no
pictures of the actual shipping containers, ships, or logo. Suspicious.
Izuku looks up shale shipping website and finds an old article from Korea. He can't read it, but
there's a link at the bottom. He clicks it. 404. Biting his lip, he pulls up the Wayback Machine. If
Shale was really a company run by All for One who decided to wipe any trace of the logo off the
internet, there's a solid chance it won't work. But it does. The homepage lights up Izuku's screen,
poorly cropped and clearly dated. But the logo is bright and center: a flower with eight petals, with
a pair of swords crossed underneath.
So Shale Shipping was a legit company operating in East Asian waters, and it employed a Shimura
Hisashi who died at the same time as the rest of Nana's family. But that's just what's on the surface.
Hisashi didn't die that young. The company went under the day after All Might's fight with All for
One. It's a weak connection—there could be all sorts of reasons for the events to have happened
that way—but it's fishy. And Izuku still hasn't fully processed the fact that he could be related to
Nana. Or is he?
All for One loves mind games, the twisted, cruel kind that break men and shatter dreams. It's not
too far of a stretch for him to have an employee, loyal to his cause, take the name Shimura through
some less than legal means. And since Hisashi is, at the very least, not listed as a Japanese citizen,
it wouldn't be hard to fake it. And since Hisashi was (is? Izuku still doesn't know for sure if he's
dead or not) a smart man, being a brand ambassador and keeping books for a massive corporation,
it wouldn't be hard to have him take the company over.
The last CEO of Shale was an elderly woman named Odrene Shale. She was found dead of a heart
attack at seventy-nine in her Singapore apartment, three days before the company filed for
bankruptcy. Digging through reports of the incident, Izuku finds that she was remarkably healthy
leading up to her death and that she founded the company at thirty after getting a loan from a
mysteriously unnamed benefactor.
Everything screams All for One. He made a company that would ship his goods and/or people by
helping a young entrepreneur, and set up one of his men in a position of high power to take over
when he got sick of the old CEO or they became too hard to control. He gave Hisashi the fake
name Shimura because of its significance to All Might, and when Hisashi took the company over,
he could change the name.
It's all one big mind game, the kind he'll have to deal with if he's going to take on All for One. And
as stressful as everything is, he can't linger on it. He wants to dig up more about his father, to find
out if he's still alive, but there are more important things to do like train and find more of All for
One's businesses. So he drops it. Or tries to. He looks at his phone for another hour, going down
the rabbit hole.
Shale Shipping had a logo change, apparently. It's hard to say since the only evidence is from a
shady wiki page that hasn't been touched since 2307. But there are links at the bottom that claim to
be sources. They don't work, not even with the Wayback Machine, but they're there. The old logo
was just a pair of swords. It's simple, unique, and memorable. So why add the flower? And why
eight pedals?
Simply searching the internet for eight-petalled flowers gives him an uncomfortable answer. It's a
Yakuza symbol, one used before All Might by a rather powerful gang present in eight of Japan's
forty-seven prefectures: the Shie Hassaikai.
It makes sense, really. The Yakuza took control of ports during the chaos following the dawn of
Quirks. Even weakened by All Might's presence, and playing second fiddle to All for One's
organization, they'd still have power. They'd still be able to sabotage shipyards and docks, and
they'd definitely hit any cargo movement on shore that they didn't like. So All for One probably
struck a deal with them. The ports Shale used in Japan are all in prefectures the Shie Hassaikai is
known to have operated in, which only further supports the idea.
So Izuku's related to a villain and a man who courted the Yakuza. Great. He'd take being related to
Nana over that any day, even if it meant that his father was the one who sold out the family.
Because that's the second most believable theory. Hisashi is a Shimura and turned traitor for some
reason. But there's less evidence for that, and plenty for his main theory. The only piece of the
puzzle remaining is why Hisashi is dead. Or why he appears to be dead.
It's four AM by the time he lays back down. Izuku shuts off his alarm and pulls the covers up
around him. And then he lays there for twenty minutes because he doesn't feel the least bit tired.
Absently, he starts to play with One for All, letting the lighting bubble to the surface. He closes his
eyes, blocking out the light. The warmth soothes him, and his eyes start to feel heavy. Moments
later, he drifts off to sleep.
He dreams of being a child again, before he was hit with the diagnosis. It's bittersweet. He was
happy back then, truly happy. But that day looms over the horizon like a stormcloud, undeniable
and dark. For whatever reason, his father is there, looking like he walked right out of the photos in
the album. He's nice. Mature and serious, but witty and encouraging. His fire burns warm when he
uses it to light the candles on Izuku's fourth birthday cake. The scent of burning pine fills his
nostrils, and the flames entice him. Strangely, though, Izuku can't shake the feeling that the fire
doesn't fit with Hisashi.
It's like a movie, almost. Izuku watches, fully aware of what's happening, but distantly. He can't
control what he sees, but he feels everything. He can feel what he felt in those days, or at least how
the Izuku living in his dream feels. The biggest thing is that he never met his father. But yet his
subconscious thinks that he was close to the man. He feels love for him, just like he does for his
mother. But Izuku knows he doesn't care for Hisashi at all. In fact, he resents him a little for
leaving, and for being a villain.
The dream halts when Izuku walks through the doors of the Quirk specialist, hand in hand with his
mother and father. Everything freezes like a still frame, the emotions settling to a mixture of worry
and fear. Izuku is trapped looking at the doors of the building that ended his dreams. Then, it all
turns to dust.
"It's weird that this is happening to you."
"One!" Suddenly, Izuku can turn. He whips around to see the gentle smile of his predecessor.
"It's good to see you," One says. "You've been doing so well."
"Thank you. Um. You know that your brother is alive, right?"
One nods. "I do."
"How… what… why...?" Izuku stops and thinks, a messy knot of emotions settling in his gut. "I'm
not sure what to say." He shifts from foot to foot, unsteadily holding the other man's gaze.
"It's okay if you kill my brother."
"That wasn't it," Izuku denies.
"Maybe not, but that's still an important thing to think about, no? You're worried about my
attachment to my kin, and what will happen if the worst possible outcome occurs." Izuku's silence
is telling. One sighs and runs his hand through his white hair. Up close, he looks frail and weak.
His eyes are sunken in, and he's so small. "I understand what my brother has done. He needs to be
stopped. You can kill him, should you choose to."
"I—"
"Don't want to kill?" Izuku nods stiffly. "I understand, perhaps the best out of all of us. Two, for as
amazing as she is, was a warrior. Three was a villain, temporarily, only stopping his string of
break-ins after hearing about All for One's sins. Four was the worst of us for it. He… he hated
what my brother did to him and innocent people with all his heart. It showed when he targeted my
brother's empire."
"Everyone else was a hero, though," Izuku says, "and so am I. Heroes don't kill."
One smiles sadly. "You would hope so. Seven didn't. She wasn't big on fights like the others. Six
and Five were… underground types. You know how grey it can be."
"Yeah."
The silence lets Izuku's mind wander, something that causes his gut to tighten and his focus to slip
away. Overhead, the sky cracks.
"You hate him."
"Yes."
"Is that because of your own thoughts or because you've been told to?"
"Of course it's not because I was told to." Izuku chews his lip, trying to figure out a way to put his
feelings into words. "He… he's a monster. He hurt every one of you, and you're all like my family.
And he's… I've had dreams."
"I know."
"Then you also know that I've felt what you've felt. I've seen him in first-person. I know how…
how charming he is, how good he is at manipulation. I've seen his strength and skill. I've seen
how… how he hurts people in the worst ways possible. I know what he wants for himself. So I
hate him. I hate him because he's awful."
"But you don't want to kill."
"Is that bad?" Izuku asks. "I… it feels wrong. I should want to wipe him off the face of the earth—
him and all of his allies. But the thought of ending another person's life… it doesn't sit right with
me."
One places a hand on his shoulder. "It's okay. I couldn't do it either." Izuku slumps forward and
One leans in. They embrace. They can't feel each other, not properly—there's no warmth or texture
—and yet it's comforting to be understood.
"Killing is… it's hard. It should always be hard. You hated that boy who stole my name; you
wanted to make him hurt. But you didn't want to kill him."
"I should've," Izuku mumbles. "Shigaraki Tomura is an awful person. A child murderer. A
kidnapper. A human trafficker. He deserves the worst and yet I can't…" Izuku takes a shaky
breath.
"Don't worry about how you should feel. Your emotions aren't wrong. My brother needs to go
down, just as that child trafficker did. A permanent solution would be better, I won't lie to you, but
I won't force you to do something you can't stomach. None of us will."
"But I have—"
"You have to do what you want to do. It's as simple as that." One pulls away and looks deep into
Izuku's eyes. "Follow your heart, not ours. One for All is yours now."
"You still want him gone forever."
"I do," One admits. "And you do as well, even if you don't think you can do it. I… love my
brother. Even after all he's done, I just can't help it. It's hardwired into me. But I know that he's a
monster. I know my love won't change him. I know that he doesn't love me back. So I will be
happy if he dies, but also sad. The world will lose a tyrant, and I will lose the man who was once
my friend."
"'Will'," Izuku repeats. "You say that like it's definite. But I could fail."
One smiles. "No. You won't fail. You will take care of my brother, whether or not you find the
strength to kill him. Failing that, you will pass One for All on. And failing that, you will inspire
someone to take up arms."
"What?"
"'If there's bad, good will rise up against it'." One takes a step back and looks behind him. "That's
from an old, stupid movie I watched as a child, but it stuck with me. People don't like being hurt.
They don't like being used. They don't like watching others die. Not all are strong enough to stand
on their own, but watching someone else rise first often does the trick. I know you have the
strength to be the first one up, and, should you fall, the fact that you put up a fight going down will
pull others up. Evil never prevails eternally. Good will always come back, no matter what."
The background begins to disappear, breaking away at the edges and turning to dust. Izuku feels
his breath catch, and his spirits lift. "Thank you."
One smiles and waves goodbye. "No. Thank you."
Izuku wakes up feeling perfectly refreshed and happy. All of his worries are still there, but they're
manageable now. He can do this. He will succeed. Nothing will stop him. One for All will prevail.
And then he falls out of bed and lands flat on his face because that's just his luck. Cursing his stiff
limbs, Izuku stands and stretches. It's ten in the morning, and his phone vibrates on his nightstand.
Picking it up and accepting the call, he rests it between his shoulder and his cheek.
"Hey, who's there?" he asks, squatting down and kicking a leg out to warm up his legs.
"Aizawa. Did you have another rough night?"
"Not as bad as it could've been," Izuku says, switching legs. "I'll be in a bit. Just gotta eat and get
dressed."
"Control your friends while you're at it. They won't stop bugging me."
"Sure. See you soon?"
"Report to the classroom," Aizawa confirms.
"Alright, bye." The line goes dead and Izuku tosses his phone on his bed. It starts to ring again
right as it hits the mattress, lighting up with a familiar contact. Half smiling, Izuku pulls his phone
to him with Blackwhip and picks up.
"Hey, Nejire."
"Izuku! You're not dead."
"Did you think I was?"
"Nah. It was weird not to see you on the way to class, though."
"Yeah." They started walking across campus together a few weeks ago. They don't need to—in
fact, it actually makes them a little late—but it's nice. "I didn't sleep as well as I wanted. I'm alright
now, though. We're all sparing today, right?"
"Yeah. Also, you missed the assembly for the Cultural Festival. Aizawa looked kinda grumpy
when we realized you weren't there. I'm sure he'll want to bug you about your event."
"Do I have to do one? I mean, I'm kind of a one-man class."
Nejire laughs. "You could probably toss a building around if you wanted. There's no way you'd get
away with that excuse."
Izuku smirks. "Plus Ultra, huh?"
"Yep. When's the next train?"
"I'm gonna run, I think."
"Oh, cool! See you in a few?"
"Yeah." Izuku feels his face heat up. "Er… love you."
"I know."
Izuku hangs up right as Nejire starts to laugh. She hasn't seen Star Wars yet, and Mirio hasn't
explained it to her, but she knows that it's funny to say I know, and it's enough to make Izuku die a
little inside. But even he has to admit that it's amusing, so he smiles as he finishes getting ready.
Forgoing his real uniform for his gym clothes, Izuku heads out to the kitchen to find a plate on the
table waiting for him. Reading the note from his mom, he eats. Once he's done, he has a quick
glass of water, grabs his backpack, and heads out the door. He makes it to U.A in a half-hour, only
slowed by an attempted robbery he stumbles across halfway there. When he reaches the gates, he
passes through without incident, but the guard pokes fun at his tardiness. Laughing it off, Izuku
hurries to homeroom, stepping in at eleven AM.
"You better be ready to go today."
"Morning, sir," Izuku greets, sliding into a desk in front of Aizawa. The man huffs and takes a
drink from his mug. "How are you?"
"Fine," he says, though his tone is clipped. "Progress with Kurogiri is slow but present."
"You don't have to tell me."
"You'd be curious if I didn't." Izuku doesn't reply, so Aizawa pulls out his phone. The board behind
him lights up, showing a screen with an aerial photograph of the school. "Cultural Festival. Go."
"I don't have a clue of what to do," Izuku says. "Um, something small, I guess. Maybe a stall? But I
don't have anything to sell. A game, maybe?"
"There's a shortage of games," Aizawa says. "No one really wants to work one all day, so most
classes are doing shows or something that can be done in shifts."
"I'd take breaks." Aizawa arches an eyebrow. "I would!" Izuku insists. "It's different from training.
Can I use my Quirk?"
"Yes."
"A strength-testing booth, then," Izuku decides. "People would pay to play against me, and if they
win, they get a prize."
"Fine. Just finalize the idea, and, for the love of everything good, don't hurt anybody."
"I won't," Izuku promises. "Can I head up to Nedzu now?"
"No." Aizawa stands up straight and turns the screen off. He picks up his mug of coffee. "Follow
me."
Aizawa leads Izuku out of the building and to the Sports Festival arena. The massive structure and
the streets around it feel wrong without a mob of people filling them. Every step echoes back, and
the wind cuts through everything like a knife. Aizawa pays it no mind and walks into the
competitor's entrance and turns right.
"We're getting a new staff member."
"Really? Who?"
"Your personal trainer," Aizawa says, making sure Izuku knows full well that he doesn't buy the
cover-up story one bit.
"He told me that he was looking for other work, but I didn't know that UA accepted his
application."
"Sure," Aizawa says, turning right. At the end of the hall is the entrance to the arena. He keeps
walking. "He's coming here to lead a fitness course for hero students, as well as to help out with
combat training every now and then. But before we finalize his contract, we have to see him in
action. He'll be critiquing an exercise today."
"Toshinori is here?"
"Yes."
"Okay. I'm part of the exercise, right?"
"You and your friends," Aizawa confirms. He stops just short of the lawn of the arena. "Nedzu's up
in the press box. Yagi's in the stands. Your friends are waiting. I'll be here, watching. Warm up."
Izuku nods. He starts to walk out of the hall, feeling Aizawa's eyes burn into his back as he does.
"'I'll be here, watching'," Izuku mutters under his breath. There's no way it's not a double meaning.
The man is close to figuring out something, but what? Hopefully it's not One for All, though
Aizawa knowing about it wouldn't be a bad thing. Then again, with All for One alive, Aizawa
would worry, and he's already got enough on his plate. So Izuku has to make sure his teacher
doesn't find out his biggest secret while simultaneously working to get strong enough to fight All
for One. It's a mountain, big and nearly impossible. But Izuku knows he can do it.
He smiles confidently and meets his friends in the center of the arena. He waves to Nedzu and All
Might. One for All courses through his veins. "I've got this."
[x]
The subject is a large male with a transformation Quirk. The power is strong, simple, and useful,
but it is also strenuous and strange. Video footage of the power in use shows that there's no limit to
how much the Quirk can do. Muscular Augmentation is hardly a transformative, though. It doesn't
change the body's makeup or alter the user's shape. It only lets the user produce more muscle
fibers. The fibers are much stronger than those of the average human, however, and so is the
original user. Therefore, Muscular Augmentation is an emitter with a slight mutative element.
"Twice, please hand me that scalpel."
The blade gleams in the harsh medical lights of the operating room. It reflects the man's bare flesh
and the doctor's careful hand. With relaxed focus, All for One watches the doctor trace the blade
down the subject's chest, parting the flesh and revealing the muscle. Blood runs, but slowly and
much thicker than normal. It's a side effect of the sedative and the man's Quirk, and the doctor
wipes it away with practiced ease. Beside him, Himiko takes the gauze and pockets it, no doubt for
later use.
"Heart for sure, Doctor," All for One says, leaning over the body and examining the exposed
tissue. "That is the most important part right now since we've already gotten blood and spinal fluid
samples. If it's not too much to ask, I'd like for you to harvest some of his liver as well."
"Another day," the doctor says, cutting deeper into the man's chest. The sternum appears, white
and red. "Twice, give me the separators." An instrument designed to keep flesh parted is fixed,
pulling the muscle and flesh away from the bone. "Sensei, if you wouldn't mind."
"Of course." All for One extends a hand. His fingers elongate and merge into a saw-like blade. It
starts to vibrate, and he carefully cuts the man's sternum open. It's brutal, and hardly sterile, but
nothing a healing Quirk won't fix. The doctor waits for All for One to pry the bone apart before
picking up a smaller scalpel. The doctor cuts a small piece of flesh off of the man's heart, quickly
setting it on a tray held by Himiko. All for One heals the man with a simple Quirk transfer and
moves to watch the doctor examine the sample under the microscope.
"The cell walls are thicker than average, just like his blood and skin," the doctor says, jotting a
note down. "Does he have a mutant in his family tree?"
"One with tough skin, yes," All for One confirms. "I thought that he might have some of the same
traits."
"You thought correctly." The doctor adjusts the focus of his microscope and holds out a hand.
Twice gives him a small syringe. "He shows signs of being both a mutant and an emitter."
"It's a shame he won't be alive for long," All for One muses. "He proves the Quirk Singularity
theory just by existing. I'd love to see how it affected him later in life."
"I as well," the doctor sighs. He pushes a bit of liquid out of the syringe and sets it aside. "But his
Quirk is too valuable. His body is, too. Perhaps we should focus on mutants for the bases of future
projects?"
"In time. We caused quite a stir. We'll wait to gather more after we make our debut."
"Very well. I suppose it's time?"
All for One smiles. "Yes. Twice, you can hand me that tray."
"Sure!" Jin practically tosses All for One the tray of medical instruments and struts over to the
microscope. "What're we doing?"
"A lesson on Quirk biology," the doctor says. "Look in the lens and tell me what you see."
Twice has to bend over the table because he's that much taller than the doctor, but he looks at the
slide under the microscope diligently. "I see a lotta circles and dots. They're wiggling."
"Good. I'm going to adjust the lens. You tell me when you can see inside one of the circles."
"Okay." The doctor twists a knob on the microscope until Twice sharply raises a hand. "Stop!"
"What do you see?"
"A bunch of wiggly bits in the circles."
"The circles are cells," the doctor explains, "and the stuff inside of them are the organelles. The
biggest one is the nucleus. Can you see small bits of string in the nucleus?"
"Yeah."
"Good. That's the DNA. It's a spiral wound tight and packed into the cell. See if you can clone it."
"I have to be able to touch it, though. The stuff is tiny!"
"That's not an issue," All for One says, stepping in and pulling the slide off of the microscope.
"Give me your hand." Twice takes off his gloves and holds his arm up. All for One gently wills the
sample from the subject's heart off the glass and onto Twice's bare skin.
"Do I just go for it?"
"You saw how the cells looked under the microscope," All for One coaxes. "We'll teach you more
about cells and Quirks later so your clones will be more powerful. Right now, we just want to see
if you can clone cells."
Twice shrugs. "Okay. Here I go!" All for One watches as the sample tremors on Twice's hand. It
grows, and like a cell undergoing mitosis, it splits. Firmly grasping Twice's wrist, All for One uses
a telekinetic Quirk to move the samples onto two fresh slides. The doctor takes both and examines
them one by one.
"They're indistinguishable on the surface level," the doctor says, trying to hide his excitement. He
eagerly picks up another syringe and squeezes some liquid on the slide. "The cone is much less
durable, however."
"That's to be expected," All for One says with a shrug. "It's simply a facet of Twice's Quirk. But the
clones will become more resistant the more he learns about the human body."
"This is cool and all," Himiko says, setting her tray of equipment down on the examination table,
"but how does it help? You cloned heart cells. Are you going to start giving out organ transplants?"
"Perhaps." All for One grins, tapping his helmet. "It would come in handy. But no. We're thinking
bigger. Much, much bigger than just organ transplants."
"Like what?"
"We're going to clone Quirks."
That gets her attention. Himiko takes another look at the subject on the table and at the
microscope. "Yeah, okay. That's really cool."
"Good." All for One pats her head and shakes Twice's hand. "Should everything go well, you both
will be test subjects. Not the first, but perhaps the first to hold multiple powers without being
unthinking monsters."
"What about that boy you banished?" Himiko asks right as All for One prepares to warp out.
"Ah. Tomura." All for One spreads his hands. "He's hungry for power and thirsts for destruction.
It's not an awful combination for our goal, but he has some rather… unattractive qualities. He will
be back, and when he does return, he'll have to prove himself. If he does, I'll let him become one of
my enforcers. If he doesn't, I'll kill him."
"My lord," the doctor says, "are you sure?"
All for One shrugs. "We have plenty of resources. If he's not worth the time or expenses, I won't
take him back. He knows too much as well, and I don't like loose ends."
Everyone in the room freezes, uncomfortable with being reminded that All for One can and will
dump them if they stop being loyal. But he can't let them think that. It'll breed rebellion. So instead
of doubling down, All for One laughs. "You are all fine. Doctor, your work is invaluable and I trust
you with my life. Should you decide to retire, I will let you. Himiko, you will continue to work for
me, even if I don't need you. Twice, you are perhaps the most important person in this entire
operation." And if I have to, I'll steal your Quirk goes unsaid.
"Cool."
"Nice!"
"Thank you, Lord."
"Yes, yes," All for One says, checking his watch. "You are all appreciated. I have things to take
care of elsewhere, however, so I will bid you goodbye." He warps away without waiting for a
reply. Appearing in his private chambers, All for One sits down in front of a large computer.
Pulling up a program of his own creation, he skims through a list of search queries that he has
alarms on.
"Oh? What's this?"
Shimura Hisashi has one search, something that hasn't happened in years. Whoever looked for it
knows how to hide, or at least has some strong cybersecurity. But they are in Japan. Which means
that someone is poking around where they shouldn't be. Oh well. The only person who would
know the significance of those two names is already towards the top of his kill list. Midoriya Izuku
will get his turn, right after his master.
Chapter End Notes
This one's kinda all over the place. We're getting back into breakneck pacing, which is
both good and bad. Good because we're getting closer to more interesting stuff, bad
because stuff isn't getting a chance to breathe. There'll be more of everything this
chapter touched on down the line. I kinda introduced a lot of new conflicts and events
in one go while also expanding on a few more. Again, this one was all over. I hope
you enjoyed. Cheers!
Join my discord! We have cake.
Perfect Practice
Chapter Notes
"Yeah, you got this! And so does Tamaki. And Mirio. And me. Let's do it!"
"We don't even know what's going to happen," Mirio says. "I mean, they wouldn't throw something
we couldn't handle at us, but we're completely blind here. Maybe we should be careful?"
"Boo! Caution is for the boring." Nejire spins in mid-air, continuing to make lazy circles a meter or
so off the ground. She stops right beside Izuku for a moment. "I wanna have fun today. Work has
been getting kinda serious lately."
"It's been the same for me, too," Mirio agrees. "Sir… he's not the same. He hasn't been for a week
or so."
"Fat Gum's nervous about All Might's vacation," Tamaki mumbles. "I am too, but seeing him
worry is just." He purses his lips. "I hate it."
"Which is why we should try to relax a little." Nejire lands on her feet and leans against Izuku's
side. "Things are only going to get more and more dark and difficult, but we shouldn't let that get to
us. We're heroes, yeah? We're supposed to smile and be reassuring. No angst while in costume!"
Izuku cracks a smile and wraps an arm around Nejire's shoulders. "Fine by me. Being confident in
and enjoying the same thing sounds great. When's the countdown going to start?"
Silence. Thick and tense. No one moves a muscle. Somehow, they keep straight faces for ten
whole seconds. Then Izuku catches Tamaki's eye and it's all over. They all start to laugh at once,
clutching at their sides and leaning against each other for support. It's impossible to get it together,
not when Mirio's snorting like a pig and Nejire's giggling right in his ear.
"Oh… oh, god, you had me for a second."
"I… I didn't think you guys would believe me!"
"It's just… a countdown. Us. Getting one. Like we would ever!"
"I needed this."
"Yeah."
To the surprise of no one, the stadium starts to rumble. The ground they're standing on is all
concrete, but the grass around them slides away, revealing a massive hole in the ground. Their
platform starts to descend, and glowing red eyes greet them. Mechanical whirring fills their ears,
hydraulics start to flow, and pistons fire. Izuku looks into the eyes of a zero-pointer as he sinks. But
just one would be too easy. On his own, he could probably take one or two. But there are four of
them fighting today. So by Nedzu or Aizawa's logic, that means that there should be nine, all with
varying heights, widths, and armaments.
The platform stops at the bottom, and the robots begin to move. They shake the earth with each
step, each crash of a foot on dirt making Izuku's heart jump. "Plan?" he says, exchanging glances
with his friends.
"Go for the joints," Nejire says, almost uncaring in spite of the massive machines bearing down on
them.
"Good idea," Mirio agrees. "I'll go right for their knees and knock 'em off balance."
"You and Tamaki can be distractions," Izuku says. "Just try to keep them moving. If they don't
settle, there'll be points where they're off balance. Nejire and I can take care of it from there."
Tamaki nods. "Sounds good."
"Perfect. Let's go!"
Izuku kicks off the ground in the nick of time. A massive metal fist comes down, blocking out the
sun and stirring up wind. Izuku flies to the side, trailing tentacles that pierce and grip the metal.
Spinning mid-air, he grabs his whips with his hands, pulling back with his legs and stressing his
muscles. His whole body goes into the pull, and the first veers off course.
The robot stumbles, off balance and vulnerable. A blast of golden light slams into the back of the
machine's head. Grinning, Izuku dives, pushes off the arm, and spins. He builds up momentum,
somersaulting until he's almost dizzy. Then, he explodes. His upper body extends, fists pulled back
and elbows tucked into his ribs.
"Double California Smash!"
The wind rips through the air, screaming as it spins. The backlash shoots Izuku upward, all the
way to the top seats of the stadium. From above, he watches as metal crumples and snaps. Shrapnel
flies, and the machine moans. It goes down, crashing into one of its fellows as it faceplants. One
down, eight to go. Or so he thinks.
The machine rises, slow and deliberate. Nejire attacks it again, redoubling her efforts. But attacks
from other robots force her away, and Izuku realizes that the things have some kind of AI. Diving
down again, Izuku stomps on the fallen robot's head. It buckles, joints locking up. He keeps the
pressure up, casting Blackwhip to grab the ground below and pulling. It starts to sink, and Izuku
prepares to target the thing's neck. But he hears a whoosh from behind, and backflips over a swipe
from a different enemy.
The robots are staying spread apart. A few are paired up, but the space between them makes it
impossible to start a domino chain. Izuku weaves around under the robot that forced him off the
first one to go down, kicking and punching at the metal in an attempt to start wearing it down. He's
surprised at the amount of damage he can do with simple attacks, and he's left stunned when he
breaks a finger off of one of the hands with a basic axe kick.
Deciding that it won't hurt, Izuku picks a robot and lines up with its chest. He pushes off the one
closest to him as hard as he can and angles his body. His shoulder rams into the robot, parting the
metal and wires. Sparks fly, his own and the machines. Instead of hitting a brick wall, Izuku
pierces the robot. He's buried in the heart of the beast, the engine dying around him and oil slicking
his clothes. He comes out the other side dazed and scratched.
Wiping the motor oil from his face, Izuku watches the machine collapse. It hits the ground with a
massive crash. It does not rise. Millions—billions, maybe—of yen worth of technology and labor
are reduced to nothing but scrap. The world freezes for a moment. Izuku stares at the destruction he
caused, awed.
"Huh."
A half-second later, one of the remaining robots bends down, grabs the arm of the dead one, and
rips it from its socket. And all of sudden, Izuku has a couple thousand kilos of steel hurling at him
at fifty miles an hour. He dodges easily, but the metal arches, slows to a stop, peaks, and rockets
back down to earth in just a few seconds. Izuku dodges again, but he grabs at the metal, creating a
net with Blackwhip. He doesn't jerk to a stop. Instead, he slows the fall as best he can. Even with
all of his strength, he feels the weight. Yet it's not as bad as he thought it would be. Closer to a
struggle to succeed than a fight to live. Hard, but doable.
Izuku stops with the arm ten or so meters off the ground. Around him, robots move. Mirio and
Tamaki prove to be the perfect ants—annoying, small, and impossible to stamp out. From above,
Nejire rains down hellfire, unleashing full-power blasts every second, denting metal and burning
exposed wires.
Izuku hefts the weight. It's not awful, but he still feels like he's holding up a few hundred whales.
Briefly, he considers his options. He could rip through the rest of the robots like he did before. It
would be efficient and end the fight quickly. Or he could push it and have some fun, like he said he
wanted. And like Nejire wanted to.
He pushes. Forty-five percent swells to fifty-five—enough to make his bones creak but not break.
The weight feels lighter below him, and he pulls. The force causes the arm to bounce, testing his
grip. Izuku holds form and starts to rock his body back and forth. Like a pendulum, the hunk of
metal begins to sway. The living robots seem to know what's up because a few try to close in. But
it's too late. His friends cover him, and if the robots get close, they could be knocked off balance
and he'll get away anyways.
The weight climbs higher and higher, and Izuku starts to fly back and forth. Every change in
direction causes the arm to whistle through the air. Momentum builds and builds, all the way until
Izuku's sure he can't add any more or stop the arm if he had to. On the last swing, he watches
carefully. The arm rises, slowing as it approaches the heavens. Right before it's about to stop
moving, Izuku heaves. The arm jerks towards him, the line going slack before completely
disappearing. It starts to fall again. The angle is almost perfect. The arm crashes into two robots,
beheading one and knocking the other to its knees.
Izuku bursts towards the ground, driving his feet into the top of the robot's boxy head. He pierces
it, digging a few meters into the mechanical guts, before pushing out the side. The robot is still
moving, however. It tries to bat Izuku to the side, but he's much too fast. Diving under the arm and
dashing towards the feet, Izuku pulls himself upward. He punches through the chest of the machine
in one fluid motion, taking pride in the sound the bot makes as it hits the ground.
"Trying to show off, huh?" Nejire whizzes to his side, practically vibrating with excitement even
though she's covered in sweat.
"You said you wanted some fun," Izuku says, gesturing to the carnage below them. "There you
go."
Nejire laughs. "You killed three giant robots all for me? How romantic."
Izuku smiles. "Yeah. All of that was totally for you."

"Mmkay. Well, I guess I better start knocking down a few, just so we're even."
Izuku raises an eyebrow. "You think you can match the three I've already gotten?"
"You think I can't?"
"I think I wanna find out."
"You're on!"
They dive down together, spinning back to back. A helix forms, half lightning, half golden spirals.
The robot they hit is utterly pulverized, its armor and gears weak in the face of a hundred percent
of Nejire's power and forty-five percent of Izuku's.
There's so much shrapnel that Izuku has to grab some of it with Blackwhip, or else run the risk of
getting one of his friends impaled. He chucks the shards of metal into another robot, and they dig
deep into its armor. Izuku then rushes it head-on, cocking his leg back like he's going to try and
kick its head right off. The robot's hands start to move up, looking to block. Izuku sharply tucks
into a dive, and the robot jerks as though surprised. He dashes between its legs, landing on the
ground feet first before pushing off with his fist raised. He spins like a drill, cutting through the
underside of the massive machine. He continues to push even when he feels it start to fall, ignoring
the way metal scratches at his skin and rips his clothes.
The sky greets him as he rips through the final layers of metal. Izuku flips, letting Float take him.
He smiles, finds a new target, and zips to it. Blackwhip easily wraps around the machine's neck.
Like an anaconda, it constricts, crushing the robot's nonexistent windpipe. The head starts to lean
to one side, and Izuku kicks it. It falls off, crashing into the ground beside other bits of robot. The
body continues to move, almost hobbling on its feet. Izuku dives through its chest cavity and
watches it collapse, keeping an eye out to make sure his friends don't get caught up in the damage.
Izuku takes down seven by the time everything is over. It's technically six and a half, but Nejire
insists that the one they hit together fell exclusively to her, and Izuku can't bring her to a
compromise. So he claimed he got the full seven and that she got two. It leads to petty bickering
but also a kiss on the cheek, so he can't complain.
The bottom of the arena starts to rise once they've finished. Hundreds of thousands of kilos are
pushed up, shaking and shifting the whole way. Everything locks into place once they reach the
top. From Izuku's point of view, everything looks like the aftermath of a robotic gladiatorial match.
"You may fly up to the press box," Nedzu's voice echoes through the stadium. In the stark
emptiness, it ricochets off the walls and amplifies due to the shake of the stands.
"Izuku, you've got us?" Mirio asks, slipping into a pair of gym pants.
"Sure." Izuku snatches Tamaki and Mirio up with Blackwhip and looks to Nejire.
"You, uh… might want to put on some pants."
Izuku looks down and realizes that his gym uniform is gone, leaving just his compressions. Even
his shoes are gone. "Where… where am I going to get pants?"
"Oh, you poor fool," Mirio says.
"Please don't," Tamaki mumbles.

"It's too late. You should really learn to keep a spare pair with you at all times—that way, you can
change… on the fly."
Izuku blinks. "I don't get it."
"Good," Nejire says, smiling like she's trying not to laugh, "because it's really stupid."
"Oh, come on, that was a good one!"
"No, it wasn't."
Izuku ends up having to fly without actual clothes. It's not bad or painful, just embarrassing and
weird. One for All keeps him plenty warm, which is good. But Mirio cracks awful puns the whole
way up, which is bad. They all get there in less than a minute, and somehow Izuku hears six
different jokes about missing pants.
"Good work, young man," All—Toshinori greets. It's Toshinori from now until he puts his costume
back on, even if his surgery is scheduled for next week. Izuku catches Nedzu's eye and nods, and
then tries not to look at Aizawa because he's not hiding his suspicion at all. "Of course the rest of
you did amazing as well. And, uh… Izuku, you should find some clothes."
"Yeah, I. Yeah," Izuku says, and suddenly the room feels ten times more awkward.
"Thank you, sir," Mirio says, trying to cut the tension. "I hope we didn't scare you away from
working at UA."
Toshinori laughs from his seat between Nedzu and Aizawa. "That could never happen. This is my
old school, you know. I'd be happy to give back."
"So you're hired, then?" Izuku asks hopefully.
Toshinori smiles. "Well, not technically. I still have to deliver my critique."
"I've already received it," Nedzu says. "It will be evaluated over the coming week, and the board
will make their call. But I'm sure he'll get approved. He's one of the best in the business, after all."
"Cool. Can we hear your thoughts?" Nejire asks.
"No," Aizawa answers before anyone else can. "He's not employed by UA and, while he has
experience training heroes, we are unsure of the quality of his analysis at this time. Should he be
accepted as a teacher here, then you will be allowed to hear from him. For now, however, you'll
have to wait."
Izuku and his friends seem to slump at that. Partly because getting a new insight on their fighting
styles would be beneficial but mostly because talking about beating up giant robots is almost as fun
as beating up giant robots.
"There's no need to be so harsh, Aizawa," Nedzu chuckles. "You all did wonderful today, though
I'll admit our little challenge favored the… well, calling you brutes is rude, but that was what you
were today."
Izuku feels his cheeks redden. "It was the easiest and simplest option."
"And the funnest," Nejire adds.
"Indeed. There's no shame in playing to your strengths." Nedzu checks his watch. "You're all free
for the day. You may pick up work if you desire, but most assignments for today will be waived
because you were helping us with this. Bye!"
The four of them walk out of the press box, waving to Nedzu and the teachers as they start down
the stairs. "You'll talk to that blond guy about how we did, right?" Nejire asks, lacing her fingers in
Izuku's.
"Definitely," Izuku says. "I fully expected you to ask, actually, but I would've talked to him and
gotten his thoughts even if you hadn't."
"He's got you figured out, there, huh?" Mirio teases. "He's practically a mind reader. Pretty soon,
you'll be finishing each other's…" He looks at Tamaki, who blinks and stares back blankly.
"Huh?"
Nejire snickers. "Swing and a miss. Maybe the childhood friend's bond doesn't count if you meet
after preschool."
"Shush, you," Mirio says, holding out a hand with finger raised. "No teasing before noon on
weekdays."
"That's not a rule."
"It really isn't," Izuku agrees. "I mean, you broke the rule you just made up, like, twenty seconds
ago."
"Yeah," Mirio says, "but that was before I made the rule."
"That's not how it works."
"Sure it is."
"Whatever, bicker another time," Nejire interrupts. "What're you guys gonna do with the time off?"
"Spar, maybe put in a few more hours at the agency," Mirio says. "Actually, Tamaki, do you
wanna go a few rounds? Just so we actually get to fight instead of playing tag with real-life mecha-
anime robots?"
"Fine with me," Tamaki says. "I'll probably go into work a little early, too."
"Nice. Dinner after we get off?"
"Sure."
"I'm gonna hit up the support lab, probably," Izuku thinks out loud. "My costume is fine, I think,
but I have a feeling it'll change once I start going on patrol again. Actually, I'll see if I can get a
version that's more fireproof, just because. You know."
"Yeah, you're a big shot now," Nejire says, shifting closer to Izuku and grabbing the crook of his
arm with her hands. "Learning from number three and number two in the same year. No need to act
humble in front of us, huh?"
"You're with Ryukyu. She's going to crack the top ten next year," Izuku points out. "Also, Tamaki
spent some time with Best Jeanist."
"It was awful."

"But you made it through and learned a lot," Mirio says, wrapping an arm around his boyfriend's
shoulders. "Not all bad, right?"
"I guess."
"Anyways, we all fought All Might, too," Izuku says. "That's… we're all amazing. Just because I
get to work for who's probably the strongest person in Japan right now and fight a bunch of his
sidekicks doesn't make any of you guys worse than me."
"We know, dummy," Nejire says, gently poking Izuku on the cheek. "I'm just really happy for you.
It's gonna be great."
"Yeah."
They reach the bottom of the steps and walk out the doors of the press box. They wind up outside
in the cool fall air. Mirio and Tamaki walk off towards the school to spar, but Izuku slips back
inside. Nejire follows. "Not going to make for the lockers and change?" she asks.
"No. I'll let them have some time and then I'll hunt down something. I should've just worn my
uniform," Izuku admits, "but I… I didn't feel like putting on the tie."
"You're such a delinquent sometimes." Nejire steps in front of him, grabs his right hand with her
left, and spins. She takes a half-step back, pushing her back into his chest and taking his hands. "It's
kinda cute. Midoriya Izuku: troublemaker."
"I'm not that bad," Izuku says, resting his chin on her head. "I just… look, I don't want to break the
rules. I just happen to run into a lot of situations where I kinda have to."
"I know," Nejire says, pushing back a little to playfully try and knock him off balance. Izuku,
however, is much too strong to budge. "Still cute, though—the little stuff I mean. Not the…"
"I understand."
"Thanks. It's just—you're so nice and sweet, and then you rip out a robot's heart and we all kinda
go, 'Oh. That's right, he can do that stuff.' I like it."
Izuku smiles. "Yeah, I surprise myself a lot. It's weird being so strong, you know? But I'm happy
I've got this power. It means I can save more people."
Nejire nods, her long, blue hair brushing against her skin. She shifts, leaning to one side and
twisting to look up. Izuku keeps hold of her, looking down. "I love you," she says.
"Love you, too." She juts her chin out and Izuku leans down.
"I hope I'm not interrupting anything."
Izuku nearly throws Nejire away, jumping up half a foot, pulling her up with him a little.
"Toshinori! Hi."
All Might chuckles into his fist, holding out a stack of neatly folded clothes. "Sorry, my boy. But
you should probably get dressed. I would also like to talk with you."
"Sure," Izuku says, taking the gym uniform from All Might. He can tell it's a little loose, but it's
better than nothing. "What about?"
"Private matters," All Might says, looking right at Nejire. He doesn't do so unkindly, but he makes
sure that they both know that she shouldn't be here.
"I'll get going," Nejire says, watching Izuku get dressed before glancing at the door.
"Yeah." Izuku straightens his jacket and zips it up. "Do you wanna find a sparring room? I don't
think our conversation will take long, and we're free all day."
Nejire shakes her head. "Sorry. I gotta go into the agency early today. I've got therapy tonight. How
about a date Friday night?"
"Not Friday, but Saturday would be great. I've gotta go in for Endeavor after school at the end of
the week, and I don't know how long I'll be there for or how tired I'll be when I'm done."
"Saturday, then," Nejire says. She leans in and stands on her toes to kiss him on the lips. "I'll text
you about it later. See you tomorrow!"
"Bye."
He watches her go, smiling warmly at the door. After a moment he turns to All Might, who looks
contemplative. "I'm glad to see that you're still happy, even if he's still out there."
"I told you before that letting him rule my life with fear would be letting him win," Izuku says.
"The last thing I want is for him to claim victory in any way. So I'll keep smiling and finding joy,
even if I'm scared."
"If you can bear it, you're not afraid," All Might says. "Nana told me that, once. I'm so, so proud of
you and how far you've come."
"You tell me all the time," Izuku says with a smile. "I don't think I could ever forget, either."
"Good." All Might slips his hands into the pockets of his well-fitted suit. In the previous week or
so, he's been dressing and eating better, putting on a few pounds as he rests. His cheeks are fuller,
though he still has that skeletal look. "He's making moves."
"I thought that was obvious?"
All Might shakes his head. "Not like we knew before. He's alive, yes, and no doubt crawling
around like a scavenger, trying to reclaim bits of his empire. But we have concrete evidence that he
has people, and he has some kind of plan."
"What happened?"
"There was a raid on a prison transport. One person, working solo. They kidnapped that villain you
fought on the highway, getting away from police and heroes alike. No deaths, but heavy
casualties."
"How do we know it's him?"
"Tsukauchi has ears in the underground. Not many, or ones that are reliable, but enough to pick up
on who makes a grab for what. With transport raids, it's usually gangs and Yakuza getting their
members back, or a family member freeing their kin. That villain was unaffiliated with any gang,
had no living family, and his Quirk was of high interest."
"He's trying to improve those things. Like the one that got into my head, but big and strong. Not an
assassin or torture specialist—a super-soldier."
"Indeed."
"But that's a good thing, sort of." Izuku slumps against the wall and thinks. "If he's trying to
replicate himself with other multi-Quirked monsters, then he's not confident in his own abilities. If
I had to guess, he's wary of taking you in a head-on fight again. Maybe. Maybe it's the same with
me, even though I'm much weaker than you are right now. He's trying to spread his resources out.
It makes him easier to fight, but it makes his supporters more dangerous."
"Killing the man himself is the most important. Mopping up his subordinates will be easier once
they're without a leader."
"Yeah. I… Should we be worried about an attack? Since you're taking time off."
"Not as much as you think. He… All for One is a sadist when it comes to the people he hates, and I
am perhaps the one he hates most. If I had to guess, he would try and make a mockery of me. Wait
until I'm fully healed to strike and then break me for all the world to see. There'd be mind games,
disgusting tactics, and more than one villainous monologue."
"That's…"
"Grim. Scary. Nightmare-inducing." All Might shrugs. "I've dealt with it before, you know—back
then. It was hard, and I am older now. But he is weaker, and I have you. When the time comes,
we'll do it together."
Izuku smiles. "Together."
They eat lunch together in the cafeteria, talking about school stories. They don't once consider that
a rather tired man heard every word they said.
[x]
Friday comes more quickly than Izuku expected. It feels like he blinks and appears at the doors of
the agency, ready to walk in. It's just as tall and imposing as the last time he was there, but when he
steps through the door, he finds that the lobby is completely empty. The secretary at the front desk
is an actual secretary this time, not a hero. They recognize Izuku immediately and send him
upstairs. The elevator ride up is quick, and Izuku knocks on the doors to Endeavor's office.
"Enter."
Izuku does, dipping his head in a slight bow to Endeavor, who's in full costume. "Thank you for
having me," he says. The man huffs in return and picks up a package on his desk.
"Put these on when you change," he orders, tossing the package to Izuku. He studies the items
inside, finding that they look like bandaids, but not quite.
"What are they?"
"Energy monitors," Endeavor says, stepping out from behind his desk. "Follow the instructions on
the paper inside. They'll measure your Quirk and send data to one of my computers. Hurry."
Izuku changes in the lockers again, but this time he has to stick the things in the package to his
skin. One goes over his heart, another halfway down his spine, one on each arm, and one on each
thigh. His costume goes on over, and he makes his way to a different section of the building.
Unlike the last room he used for sparing, this one is boxed in completely. There's just one door and
an air vent—no windows—though there's plenty of security cameras.
Endeavor stands in the middle of the floor, solid like a statue. He stares as Izuku walks in, almost
sizing him up even though he's seen him fight plenty of times. "Limit yourself to thirty percent this
time," Endeavor orders. "That's how you keep track of your power output, correct?"
"Yes," Izuku says, "it's like an engine, almost. It has the fuel; I just regulate how much it pumps
in."
"I read your description," Endeavor grunts, "I understand how your power works. It's not that
dissimilar to mine."
"Re—"
Izuku ducks under a flaming fist, bending backwards to stand on his hands. He drives his legs into
Endeavor's chest, forcing the man back even if the contact is brief. Izuku rights himself, lowering
his stance. One for All pokes against his skin. It knows he's lost to the man before him, and it
doesn't like that one bit.
"Well?" Endeavor says, throwing a wave of flames at the floor to punctuate his words. "Are you
going to stand there? I am a villain, strong and deadly. But this is an unstable building where your
full power is a hindrance. Bring me down!"
Izuku slips his goggles on and charges. Float pushes him through the air, and he puts no pressure
on the ground. Blackwhip races in front of him, wrapping around Endeavor's limbs. Izuku dashes
closer, aiming a punch right at the head but intending to flip over and kick the man in the back. A
wall of flames stops him, a brilliant orange and white. It's far from solid, and Izuku and his suit are
somewhat fireproof. But Endeavor's flames are hot. They burn the fabric of Izuku's goggles away,
causing them to fall to the ground. His eyes are exposed to the raw heat, and he backs off. All of
that in just two seconds.
Izuku slides to a stop on the ground, flicking a few fireballs aside with air blasts. He has to be
careful with his strength. If he misses and hits the walls, he'll lose before even getting a hit in. He
rushes again, four whips poking from his back. Endeavor meets him in the middle, propelled by
flame. Fire swells as they clash, Endeavor reading the feint and blasting Izuku in the chest. Izuku
rolls out of the way, keeping the pressure up. He goes low, kicking at the man's knees. Another
massive burst of flame forces his retreat, but Izuku doesn't let Endeavor drive him away for free.
Wrapping one of Endeavor's angles in Blackwhip, Izuku pulls. Endeavor throws a bolt of white-hot
fire at him, but Izuku dodges. Endeavor's body moves with him, jerking and twisting mid-air. More
fire spews. It scorches the floor and Izuku's costume. He creates some more distance, giving
himself more time to react to attacks. Once he feels safe enough, Izuku throws both of his hands
out. Strands shoot from his fingers and arms, wrapping Endeavor up from the neck down.
Cautiously, Izuku lowers the man to the floor. He slowly approaches, keeping the grip tight. "Did
—"
Fire roars. Izuku shields himself with Blackwhip, but not before his face is thoroughly singed. He
dives forward, tackling Endeavor before a second hit can come. This time, he fights blind. Lashing
out as wildly as he dares, he snatches the man up. "That's all for now."
Izuku lets the whips dissipate, One for All shutting off in his skin. He looks at Endeavor, who
stands tall despite a few bruises. "What now?"
"Evaluate yourself."
"I should've led with the suit of armor. I also should've tried to end it sooner."
"Good. You're not an idiot." Izuku feels a little bit of frustration build as Endeavor looks him over.
"You fight too fancily."
"What?" Izuku asks. "I've been told that before, but way early in the year. I don't anymore. I do my
best to not waste movement, and I try to keep on the offensive."
"Yes. But you don't start with the best attack. Even in that All Might video or the fight from the
highway, you didn't start off with a strong enough hit. Why?"
"I have to feel them out first," Izuku says, feeling that he's explaining a really simple concept. "I'm
too strong to just hit someone with everything. They could die if I do. I have to be careful."
"That mindset will get people killed," Endeavor says. "Do you have any idea what causes the most
deaths in villain attacks every year?"
"… I don't think I do."
"It's showboaters and flashy idiots trying to look good for the camera," Endeavor spits. "Most
schools pump out borderline narcissistic teenagers with licenses to use their powers to get popular.
Those idiots end up dragging out fights. Why?"
"More screen time," Izuku answers. "All Might ends most of his battles in one hit, but that's
because he's All Might. Other heroes have to work to get popular."
"Yes. But do you give a damn about that?"
"No."
"Good. You belong here." Endeavor starts to walk out of the room, his long strides forcing Izuku to
half jog to keep up. "Do you know the story of the first world war?"
"Vaguely," Izuku says. "Um. In the early twentieth century, everything was really unstable and
stuff. There were a lot of big countries who wanted more and smaller countries that didn't want to
be controlled. Someone killed a duke, and it spiraled out of control."
"Good enough. In the early stages of that war, every general thought they'd be home before
Christmas. But Christmas came and they were still fighting, dying in the mud by the thousands.
That war dragged on for four years. The second world war lasted six. They both claimed millions
of lives. And yet, do you know how many died in the early months of both?"
"No."
"Fractions of what was to come." Endeavor pushes through the locker room door and gets on an
already-open elevator. "A quick fight is ideal. Everyone wants one. Do you know why?"
"Because fighting isn't good?" Izuku tries.
"No. Because the longer you fight, the bloodier it will get." The elevator starts to descend, the city
street rapidly approaching. "Statistically speaking, the longer a villain fight lasts, the more damage
will be done. It's been proven time and time again. Do you want to risk the lives and livelihoods of
innocents?"
"No," Izuku says firmly.

"Then you will learn to end every fight in a single hit." The flames of Endeavor's beard swell,
warming the elevator car. "Efficiency is the key to everything. The faster you can end a fight, the
faster people are safe. Nothing else matters. Understand?"
"Yeah, but I can't just start knocking villains down with forty-five percent!" Izuku exclaims as the
elevator stops. The doors open and Endeavor walks out to a floor of cubicles and computers. "The
human body can't take that level of power! I need to be careful and figure out what needs to be
done."
"That is what those monitors were for." Endeavor turns around a corner and snatches a stack of
papers off a nearby printer. Office workers around them cower at the sight of the man in full gear.
The papers are thrust into Izuku's hands, and they start to walk again. "You will be drilling for
three hours a day."
"I already have school combat training."
"Yes. Combat training, not drilling. How often do you practice your supermoves?"
"I get them down as good as I can and then do dry runs a few times a month," Izuku says.
"That is unacceptable. Follow that plan to the letter and maybe I'll consider you up to snuff."
"You want me to practice my simplest moves for hours," Izuku says, flipping through the papers.
"I… and then you want me to meditate for forty minutes? I'm not against more training, but this
seems a little… condescending."
"Wipe that idea from your brain, boy," Endeavor says, opening a door to an office. "Practicing the
basics is fundamental for people like us. Each and every movement you make must be like
breathing. Instinctual. Easy. Mindless. It's like learning to drive a car or play a sport. First, you get
one aspect down, and then add another. You continue until the entire complex exercise feels like
you've been doing it for years."
"That still doesn't explain how I'll be able to end every fight in one hit without risking injury."
"That's what those monitors are going to tell you. They kept track of you during our brief fight.
They'll give you exact readings on what's safe to use on who. Everything else will come from in-
field experience."
"Fine," Izuku agrees, "I'll do this. When's my first patrol?"
"Next week, when you've improved greatly."
"I—"
"You're already good enough," Endeavor interrupts. "Amazing, even. But you don't want to be just
good enough or just amazing. You want to be perfect. Right now, you could walk out and get hired
by any agency, even some of the top ten ones. But you're here. With me. Because you want to be
like me. This is what I did, starting third year at UA and continuing to today. You will do the same,
and you will improve."
Izuku nods stiffly. "Yes, sir."
Endeavor's eyes gleam, but Izuku can't catch exactly how the man feels. He watches as his new
teacher takes a half step into the office and yells, "Shoto! Out. You have a new companion. Make
sure he doesn't get lost on the way to his practice room."
Izuku stands there, lost as Endeavor marches to a window, opens it with one hand, and jumps out.
He looks into the office, where a stoic boy with split-colored hair sits in a chair, feet on the desk. A
bowl of cold noodles sits in his lap. "My father's a bastard," he says, lifting the bowl to his lips and
slurping up some noodles.
Izuku, who has no clue what to do in a situation like this, tries to be as friendly and relatable as
possible. "Yeah, same."
Chapter End Notes
Endeavor is a bastard. A dramatic, smart bastard. Also Aizawa is sneaky. Cheers!

Ps this fic has a TV tropes now, the link is on my profile.
Join my discord!
Shifting Perspectives
Chapter Notes
"So, uh… Endeavor, huh?" Izuku taps his foot on the floor, tense as a brick. The boy—Shoto, he
reminds himself—calmly eats his soba and stares at him blankly. The boy's mismatched hair
covers part of his face, the shadow just barely obscuring his left eye. But Izuku can still make out
the splotchy red of an angry burn scar there, and he finds himself thinking that it's a miracle that the
guy can still see with it. His mind starts to wander, but before it goes too far, he reigns himself back
in. "He's not the nicest guy to talk to, I guess."
Shoto doesn't reply. Instead, he sets his bowl down and stands. He's dressed like an athlete, with
fitted sweats and a tight yet comfy-looking shirt. It's something Izuku would wear when he lifts or
goes on a run. Shoto's probably training with his father, or at least training at the agency. It makes
sense that Endeavor would want to help his son grow, though maybe Shoto isn't on the same page.
The boy's emotionless expression and overall muted demeanor gives it away.
"Uh. How long have you been training?" Izuku asks, trying to be casual. Shoto starts to walk out of
the room, navigating the floor of office people with practiced ease.
"Since I got my Quirk."
"Yeah, I've wanted to be a hero for forever too," Izuku says, hurrying to follow. "You must be
really dedicated."
"No."
"Oh. Not sure about what you want?" Izuku asks, following Shoto around a corner and to a
different set of elevators.
"Yes."
"Oh. Okay. I guess it's kinda usual to have second thoughts," Izuku says, stepping into an elevator
beside Shoto. "But I'm sure your dad wants you to follow in his footsteps."
"No."
"N… no?" Izuku tries to catch Shoto's eye. The other boy looks away, giving him the cold
shoulder.
"No."
"I…" Izuku shuts his mouth, unsure and uncomfortable. "I hope you get what you want?"
Shoto hums and continues to ignore him. Izuku tries to distract himself with the view of the city
below, but the lack of elevator music makes it impossible. The silence is too strong, too stiflingly in
his face that he can't help but feel jumpy. Would it kill the guy to not act so standoffish? He's not
blaming Shoto for being quiet. Tamaki's quiet. Izuku likes Tamaki. Shoto just feels… off. Like he's
separate from the world as a whole, and in a pretty bad way.
"My father's a bastard," Shoto says as the elevator stops and opens.
"You said that already." Izuku follows him out and into a long, broad hallway made of concrete.
Shoto grunts in affirmation, and Izuku is left scratching his head. "Oh!" he says after a moment,
"um. Yeah, my dad's not the best either. Actually, he's not around. Actually, he might be dead. Er,
he's… I'm going to stop talking now."
"Okay."
They walk down the hallway in silence. Izuku keeps track of all the doors they pass, each one
made of steel and clearly a few centimeters thick. At the end of the hall, there are two doors. One
reads Endeavor and the other reads Shoto.
"I'm going to train. Just pick a room and keep busy until he comes to get us."
"When will that be?" Izuku asks. Shoto shrugs and opens the latch on his door, leaving Izuku in the
hallway alone. "Thanks for the help," he sighs, taking a few strides over to a different door. He
picks the latch up and pushes it open, finding that it's surprisingly light.
Inside the door is a largeish room with nothing in it. Everything is a matte grey, lacking the sheen
the rest of the building seems to have. There are no lights, but there also isn't an ounce of darkness
in the room. Everything seems to just glow uncannily. Izuku sets his stack of papers on the floor
and walks around. The floors aren't metallic or stone. They almost feel like plastic, which doesn't
make sense. This is a fire-based agency. Why would plastic be the material of choice?
Carefully, he pours One for All into his leg. Izuku stomps on the ground, and his foot nearly
bounces back. The floor holds strong. He stomps again with forty perfect. It cracks a little, but the
line doesn't spread too far. Satisfied, Izuku snatches his papers back up, sits against a wall, and
reads. He concludes that Endeavor is a madman.
He knew that it would help a lot from his brief skim. He expected to spend a lot of time on the
basics, but he's supposed to spend upwards of four hours alone, just turning his Quirk off and on
for a good chunk of it. The plan has a few exercises, but they're all boring. Jump at a low power
level, turn it off mid-air, land without it, one details. No contact should be made with the ceiling,
alternating between vertical and lateral jumps.
The meditation is also pretty boring, and it isn't even technically meditation. He's supposed to just
hold his Quirk steady. First, the plan tells him to start at the lowest output he can and work up in
even increments, holding at each one until he's at his max. Then, he has to work back down before
jumping up in bigger increments and going back down again. Each time—because he's supposed to
do five sets—the jumps get bigger. And then he has to hold at five percent, ten percent, twenty
percent, forty percent, eighty percent, and as high as he can go for as long as he can. Never mind
the fact that Izuku's never tried to feel out power levels that high, doesn't Endeavor know he can
hold onto five percent indefinitely?
Frustrated, Izuku puts the papers aside. He stands and stretches. One for All flares to life. He'll
warm up a little before trying what Endeavor wants him to do, and if it gets too boring, he'll take a
break. He won't make it through otherwise. He's decently good at focusing, sure, but that level of
dullness and time is something different.
Izuku's still plenty warm from his brief spar with Endeavor, though there's some lingering stiffness
in his thighs. He jogs a little, just to get his blood pumping; does a few quick stretches and runs
through a few punches and kicks. Once he feels ready to go, he lights up the room and bounces.
There's no pattern to it. He jumps from one wall to another, occasionally jerking around mid-air.
He gradually ramps up the speed until he's at his max, and freezes to a stop. His blood rushes, but
his mind feels clear. Calm. Grudgingly, he looks over to the stack of papers.
First up is the meditation that's not really meditation. Izuku sits on the floor, legs crossed and arms
resting on his knees. He keeps his back straight, looking directly ahead. He closes his eyes and
breathes. He reaches, and the power takes his body. It's there, floating around gleefully.
But Izuku doesn't try to restrict or use it. He lets One for All do its thing, feeling the pushes and
pulls of its consciousness. The vast ocean of power rises and falls inside of him, currents swirling
about and tides shaping the water. It feels familiar—safe—no matter how massive.
Tenderly, he reaches out and touches the ocean. Molding it with his hands, he takes just a tiny
drop. One percent of the water. He lets it sit inside of him, spreading out aimlessly. After a
moment, he takes some more. Two percent. He lets that sit for a moment, feeling the power in his
flesh and bones. He takes more and more, gradually working upward. He hits his safe limit after a
while, forty-five percent sitting comfortably in his gut.
He reaches for more, adding power to his body. As he reaches sixty percent, his body starts to feel
full. Eighty makes him feel like he's bursting at the seams, the sheer scale of the energy too much
for any normal being to handle. But he presses on, pouring the entire ocean into his body. He holds
it, for just the barest moment. But he has to let it go or risk hurting himself.
Izuku relaxes and opens his eyes. His body feels tired and sore. He looks around at the room. The
walls, ceiling, and floor are cracked. Bits of the plastic material are scattered on the floor like
glass, sharp and almost camouflaged against the stuff that still holds. Carefully, Izuku tests the
floor with a kick. The pieces jump, but the room holds. The ceiling doesn't want to collapse in.
Gingerly, Izuku relaxes. Danger Sense flows through his mind, aware of the small bits of plastic
that could cut him. It doesn't detect anything else. With nothing better to do, he starts the second
round of jumps.
He goes up by fives. Then tens. Then fifteens, then twenties. He skips over twenty-fives to go right
to fifties. Each time, he gets a little more sore, but the ocean feels easier to contain. It's always been
his, ever since he ate that hair. But after holding it all for just a few brief periods, it doesn't feel as
vast. It's not as impossibly powerful. It's just his, and he's not anything too grand. The end result is
almost scary, in a way. So much power, and he's looking at it like it's nothing special, even though
it certainly is.
Izuku decides to move on before he can think too hard about it. He lets a steady flow of five
percent into his body and sits. For a while, everything is fine. One for All pulses happily, enjoying
the small exercise it gets from being used. But sitting there doing nothing starts to chip at his
focus. There's just so much he could be doing. Flying, fighting, practicing for real. But he's stuck
here, holding a tiny ember in his hands. It's warm and interesting, but it pales in comparison to the
majesty of the full power that he longs to feel. Mind wandering, he thinks of his friends and how
they trained in the past. He thinks of everyone he's saved, and how their lives might be going. He
doesn't realize that the power has crept up to ten percent until his mind wanders back to what he's
doing at the moment.
He severs his connection to the power immediately, letting go of the warmth. He rests for a
moment, regaining his bearings. One for All is like a fire almost as much as it's like an ocean, he
supposes. There's the ebb and flow, and the crashing of waves. But water doesn't feed and grow. It
doesn't really have a heart or life. Fire does, in a way. It needs fuel, like One for All needs his body
to be activated. It's strange to feel a second heartbeat beside his own, but he's felt it for months
now. It's a friend rather than a stranger. Bright and familiar like a campfire. He activates it again,
feeling the power. He corrals it down to ten percent, squeezes his eyes tight, and holds.
It's a little easier to focus this time, since there's more volume to control. Even then, it's still boring
to sit and hold. His mind itches to delve into the depths of One for All. The Quirk is pure living
energy, passed down to him. It's his and his alone. He doesn't want to sit around and do nothing
with it. He doesn't need to feel out how ten percent feels. The lower percentages are practically
ingrained in his mind since he uses them so much. And One for All itself tugs at him, pulling him
inward. It's bored too. It doesn't particularly hate being on and inactive, but it knows what Izuku
wants to do.
Again, he starts to slip out of focus. The power goes from rigidly defined to blurry. His mind dulls,
and the steady movement of the Quirk lulls him into a sort of trance. He feels less and less attached
to his body, gradually letting the Quirk take him. He sees light, even with his closed eyes. Green
and red and yellow and purple swirl together. Oddly, he catches a whiff of old books and
cinnamon. And then the voices start.
He… can't tell what's being said. Not in the slightest. But the voices are familiar. Friendly, too. He
knows he can trust them, even if their words are warbled and unintelligible. He compares it to
hearing a song in another language. The feeling, soul, and mood are all there, but the real meaning
is lost entirely. He feels longing in the noise, sorrow and grief close companions to it. There's an air
of melancholy and a very present what-if. Yet there's hope. Joy, too. He can tell that whoever is
speaking smiles as they do.
Izuku pulls himself back when he feels a hand rake through his hair. He jumps, almost crashing
into the ceiling. But he's alone. Danger Sense confirms it, or at least that he's still safe. His heart
thumps in his chest, stirring his blood up in a frenzy of adrenaline. Swallowing, he sits back down.
He feels tired, mentally. There's soreness in his muscles, too, and there's weight behind his eyes,
and he feels sluggish. His thoughts are a tangled mess, and the room spins around him. It feels like
gravity's been flipped, or maybe tied in knots around the room. Nothing feels real. Nothing feels
right. Izuku starts to feel himself slip back in, seeking the safety of the voices. But he holds, and
forces himself to stand.
His hands clutch at the necklace under his costume. He pulls off a glove and fishes it out, tracing
the lines of the lightning bolt with his fingers. The metal is warm from contact with his skin, and
the heat seems to alleviate the unevenness of the world. Things stop twisting and turning, settling
at the right angles. Izuku blinks and takes a few deep breaths. His first instinct is to write
everything down, but he can't. Not in a place like this. Endeavor takes security seriously, sure, but
it's nothing like the bunkers under U.A. So Izuku ignores the way his pencil and notepad burn in
his pocket and grabs the papers detailing his training. He skips over the rest of the medication and
takes a look at the first real exercise. He stands, puts his glove back on, and gets to work.
Endeavor finds him down there hours later, sweaty and exhausted. Izuku didn't mean to start
working harder than he was supposed to; it just sort of happened. He blames the fact that repeating
the same moves over and over starts to grate against his mind after a while, and, well, when that
happens, he needs to work the kinks out. Endeavor seems to know this and doesn't act mad, though
Izuku can't shake the feeling that the man is somewhat frustrated.
"Do you have any idea how strong this room is?"
"No?"
The flames of Endeavor's beard swell, and the man raises a fist. Izuku watches a fire ignite and
burn. He watches as it soars past red and orange, pausing on yellow before stopping at a cobalt
blue. With a grunt of effort, Endeavor hurls the fire at the wall to his right. Izuku can feel the entire
room heat up a few degrees, and the force of the fire hitting the wall creates a strong gust of wind.
Yet the wall is barely scuffed—other than the damage Izuku did hours earlier, meditating.
"Ah."
Endeavor scoffs. "You're shocked at the level of your own strength. Disgusting."
Izuku winces. "I know it's bad that I don't know how strong I am, but I hold back all the time! It's
safer that way. I'm here to correct that."
"Did you even read the report on your strength?"
"Yes, but it wasn't anything I didn't know before. Approximately fifteen percent is the rough limit
for the average human body to handle."
"Listen to yourself. 'Approximately', 'rough'. That is no good for what we're doing here. Throw a
punch at ten percent, now."
Izuku nods and cocks a fist back. One for All pours into his arm, and he punches.
"Again, but harder."
"What?"
Endeavor glares. "What is UA teaching kids these days?" From his tone, Izuku can tell the question
is rhetorical. He doesn't answer, so Endeavor makes another flame in his hands—a beautiful cherry
red. "This is currently burning at exactly nine-hundred-fifty degrees Celsius. Watch." He
effortlessly throws the flame at the wall. Nothing substantial happens. Endeavor lights another
flame but throws it too quickly for Izuku to properly pick up on the color. There's a smack and a
roar. Izuku feels a warm gust of wind. "How hot was that?"
"About fifteen hundred degrees?" he estimates.
"Wrong. They were the same temperature."
"How?"
"Your Quirk and mine are like gunpowder. Potential energy. How much power is put in the charge
determines the yield of the blast. But the shape of the charge also matters. What makes things
explode?"
"It's in the name," Izuku says. "Expansion, right?"
"Yes. The heat makes the air expand outward, creating energy. But the same amount of power
doesn't always yield the same amount of energy. How?"
"Well, there's environmental conditions. If it's humid or cold, the blast won't be as powerful."
"Wrong answer. The shape of the charge is more important."
Izuku cocks his head. "How?"
"When you're laying in bed, how much do you want to move?"

"Not a lot?"
"What about if you were trapped inside of a one-meter square box?"
"I'd really want to get out."
"There you have it."
"What?"
"The tighter an object is packed, the more force it will exert trying to expand," Endeavor says,
bringing his hands together. "Gunpowder in a line or small pile doesn't do much more than fizzle
out. But packed in barrels, it can bring down buildings and sink ships."
"Okay," Izuku says, understanding a little, "but how does this relate to my Quirk?"
Endeavor holds out a palm. "Punch, no Quirk." Izuku does, making sure his form is as clean as
possible. "Harder." Izuku repeats the process, putting a little more force into the strike. "Do the
same thing again, but with one percent activated." Izuku obeys. On the first hit, Endeavor doesn't
budge. On the second, he stumbles back.
Izuku watches him nearly fall, at a loss. "How…"
"Your percentages are like the kilos of gunpowder," Endeavor says, "and how much effort you put
into your attacks is how tightly you pack it."
"Effort," Izuku says, still not quite grasping it.
"You hardly ever lift the maximum weight you can," Endeavor says, "but that doesn't mean you
don't have the strength to do so."
"Oh," Izuku says. "I… okay. Okay, I think I get it. I might be using fifteen or twenty percent Full
Cowling, but the strength I put into the punches I throw determines the power."
"Yes. It's why you can pick up an egg without crushing it even if you could easily break the shell.
This is a basic principle that you should've known from day one."
"I've only been able to use this much for a few months," Izuku defends. "When I got into UA, I was
stuck at five."
"That's no excuse," Endeavor says, glaring down. "You have lightning in your veins, boy. Raw
power the likes of which the world has only seen once before. And yet you have an elementary
grasp on how to use it. Your focus is weak, and you treat it like some kind of dial for you to spin
sloppily. Left unchecked, you could level a city. You already fried those energy readers. You
damn near shattered this room just by sitting at your max. Those exercises I gave you weren't
punishments. They are vitally important to your future as a hero. You must be able to balance on a
knife's edge, perfectly in control. You must be ready to snap to full power in an instant, or let the
power fizzle out. Most of all, you must know your own strength. Every half percentage must be
ingrained in your mind or else one lapse in judgement could get someone killed."
Izuku looks up at the man, taking in the cold fury. The flames roar, scratching at his face. He
pushes back with his lightning, feeling the power form in his gut, spread to his flesh, and leak out
of his pores. He tastes copper, smells ozone, and feels his hair stand on end. The room brightens,
and the green bolts scorch the floor.
"I understand."
If Endeavor is impressed, he doesn't show it. Instead, he takes a step back. "Walk through those
exercises again under my direction. Study up on your power yields and percentages on your own
time. You've wasted enough of mine already."
It stings a little to know that he's been doing something wrong for this long. But Izuku bears it. The
sting is infinitely less painful than losing someone because of his own incompetence. It may be
tedious and mind-numbing, but Endeavor doesn't hide the fact that it's what he did to become so
strong. Izuku knows his power cap is above that of Endeavor—or anyone, really. Realistically
speaking, he could carry himself on raw power alone, except for one fight.
Even if he's with All Might, Izuku doesn't want to bank on anything less than being as ready as
possible for All for One. He's seen that scar. He's felt the pain it caused. He knows full well of All
for One's callousness and horror. And if he's making more of those multi-Quirked things with the
power of the villain Izuku beat on the highway, he'll need to be able to take them down, too. So
he'll train. He'll forge his mind, body, and instincts into the hardest steel he can.
Precision, power, speed, and planning. Tossing an egg from hand to hand with Full Cowl on at
forty-five percent might not feel like combat training, but it is. And it's just as important as all the
weights he lifts and the miles he runs. So he lets Endeavor push him hard, and he completes every
order to a T. By the end of it, he's exhausted, mind dull and muscles sore. But it's worth it. He can
feel a closer connection with One for All, not emotional—he's been smiling with the Quirk the
entire time he's been training—but rather physical. He can shape the ocean and grab the flames.
He's not directing the power anymore. He's molding it to his will.
Izuku passes out that night without showering. He doesn't dream. He wakes up the next morning
and reads the packet of information he got as he gets ready for school. He'll show Endeavor and
everyone else how much he can improve. And when the time comes, he'll blow right past their
expectations. For himself, and for One for All, but also for the people he'll protect when he's
grown. For them, it's all or nothing.
Izuku's fire lasts until he looks Aizawa in the eye. Stepping foot into class, he trips over his own
feet upon seeing the man looking well-rested and clean-shaven.
"Morning."
"Morning."
Izuku stares at his shoes for a moment, awkwardly chewing his lips. "Well, I'll be going!"
"All for One."
"Excuse me," Izuku says, forcing a smile. He tries to hold the man's gaze, but he has to look away.
"Er, uh… what was that?"
"All for One."
"A… and One for All?" Izuku tries. "Y'know, like the three musketeers?"
Aizawa looks at him flatly. "I've been working in the underground longer than you've been alive. I
only found out towards the tail end of his reign, but I know of him."
"Knew," Izuku corrects, and realizes his mistake.

"So you do know about him." Aizawa leans against the wall, cool and impassive. "Enough to know
he's dead."
"Y-yeah."
"You're an awful liar."
Izuku winces. "No one's supposed to know."
"That's logical. If the HPSC knew or, god forbid, the general public, there'd be chaos." Aizawa
narrows his eyes. "Nedzu knows. Yagi knows. I'm betting that Torino man knows, too."
"Tsukauchi as well," Izuku admits. "It's a very exclusive group, I guess." He laughs a little, nervous
and on edge.
"Yes," Aizawa says, eyes drifting over to the door. "Come in, you're part of this too."
Izuku watches as a flushed All Might walks through the door. The man bows, straightening and
keeping remarkably steady even though he's clearly nervous. His fitted suit hides his skinny limbs
and makes him look just a little more full than he really is. "Perhaps we should get some tea?"
"How'd you sneak behind me?" Izuku asks.
"It doesn't matter," Aizawa says. "He's nosing around in his own business, anyways. Right, All
Might?"
All Might coughs up blood, covering his mouth with a hand. Izuku fishes a towel out of his
backpack and hands it to him. "How?"
"I'm not an idiot," Aizawa says, managing to make it sound like the only reason he needs. "Your
hair, for one. Really, a toddler could figure it out. The fact that Nedzu hired you so easily, and the
fact that you're two meters tall."
"But I'm so skinny?"
"Transformative Quirks exist."
"Yes, well…" All Might trails off. "Shit, okay. I'm All Might. But this mustn't leave this room."
Aizawa shrugs. "Fine. But back to All for One. You killed him, years ago."
"Thought I killed him. It… I was very thorough, and yet..."
"He's alive," Aizawa says. "Alive and unwell, but alive. You're trying to recover so you can battle
him again, banking on the villain's pride and desire for a symbolic victory."
"Yes."
"But why Midoriya?"
"Ah, well…"
"He wants me to take his place," Izuku says. "He's… he'll be gone, eventually. All for One, too.
But there are other evils. He wants someone he can trust to carry on his legacy."
Aizawa stares, long and hard. "You have his Quirk." Izuku feels the color drain from his face.
"It's not what you think!"
"Is it?" Aizawa looks at All Might. "You let him take it."
"Yes," All Might admits. "I—hold on, what?"
"You let him take your Quirk."
"I don't follow," All Might says, resting a hand on Izuku's shoulder, offering some comfort.
"Don't play dumb with me," Aizawa says, clearly peeved. "Multiple Quirks even though he has the
extra pinky toe joint. No father on record. A meek and apologetic personality, which often stems
from abuse. He's All for One's son."
Izuku's heart stops. He… he can almost see how one would think that. But Hisashi… "No!"
"You don't have to lie to me. I won't judge you by your blood. You've already proven to be a good
person, dedicated to saving people."
"He's not my father!" Izuku cries, feeling the urge to vomit. Aizawa recoils like he's been burned.
"He's… he's a bastard. He's killed so many people; he's hurt people that care for me. He is not my
father! There's no proof!"
"I'm sorry," Aizawa says, rough and low. "That was out of line."
"Yes." All Might pulls Izuku closer, letting him rest his head against the silk of his suit. "I think it's
best if we have a break and reconvene later."
"Alright. I just… I have a few questions."
"Make it quick."
"Did you find him or…"
"I saw him rush in to save a life at the cost of his own. I couldn't ignore him after that."
"So you didn't raise him on your own."
"Neither did All for One."
"Yet… never mind. You're not using him to get back at the man who ended your career, at least."
"I thought he was dead until a few weeks ago. And I would never use Izuku like that."
Aizawa nods and then hesitates, chewing on a new piece of info but hungering for more. Satisfied
but curious, he asks, "How many?"
"Eight. He can't use them all; they're… locked."
"I understand. How?"
"How what?"
"You've both used the power at once, yet it's the same. How does that work?"
Izuku feels All Might shrug. "Quirks are weird. There are… vestiges of the past holders—
memories and connections of those long past. What's to say he can't have one with someone who's
still living?"
"I understand," Aizawa says. "Thank you. For explaining."
"Don't thank me. Thank him. It's his secret now. I'm just an old man. He calls all the shots."
"Not really," Izuku mumbles, pulling away and steadying himself. "You're still in charge. I just
train and prepare to face him."
"It's brave of you to do that," Aizawa says. "I… I'm sorry for springing this on you. I should've
thought ahead."
"Yeah, a little preparation time would've been nice," Izuku says, flashing a smile. "It's not every
day that you… well, my life's already so weird that it's not completely out of left field."
"If you need help…"
"I know you're there. Just… ease up on the ambushes. I… I trust you; I just wasn't ready to share.
I'm still not completely. If you want to know something, ask. I'll tell you if I can't answer."
"Fine." Aizawa stands up straight and rakes his hands through his hair. "You said Detective
Tsukauchi knows?"
"Yeah."
The man nods. "I'm going to mess with him for this later. Nedzu, too."
All Might chuckles. "Good luck with that. The man is, how should I say... borderline omnipotent."
"Worth a shot, though," Izuku says.
"Yeah." Aizawa starts to leave, waving lazily as he does. "Don't die or do anything stupid. It's not
exactly safe for you to be out and about, but I can't really stop you. Remember your training. Bye."
Izuku watches him leave and sits on a desk once he's gone. He looks All Might in the eye. "How
traumatic was telling the truth?"
All Might blinks. "Considering I first had to convince people that my Quirk really was given to me
and I wasn't some offshoot of All for One's line, who had a thing for stealing strength Quirks?
Very."
"Wait. You don't mean…"
"This is far from the first time people have made the connection, even if it is incorrect in its
details."
Izuku lets his shoulders slump. "At least what we told him wasn't total bullshit."
All Might's lips twitch up. "One day, Izuku, one day. For now? Enjoy the fact that he's not
breathing down our necks anymore. I know I will."
Chapter End Notes

Short because I had a tiring week. Work sucks sometimes, you know? Anyways, next
one will have a patrol, a fight, and a date. Fun stuff. We're getting closer, friends.
Cheers!
Join my discord!
Spoiler below, skip if you wish:
Now's probably a good time to tell you that this isn't Dad for One. That's been done too
many times, I don't wanna repeat it. I do have a plan for Hisashi, rest assured. He just
isn't the big bad.
The Great Dilemma
Chapter Notes
As of October 8, 2021 this chapter has been edited by my beta, Flauel.
"Again."
Izuku backflips over a jet of compressed air, twisting around a ball of steel. His feet hit the ceiling
and he pushes downwards. He catches another projectile, letting its momentum cause his trajectory
to veer slightly to the right. He spins, landing on one hand and using the other to throw the
projectile back where it came from. Blackwhip pulls him backwards, avoiding a burst of bullets. A
million variables run through his mind at once, some cool and calm, others white-hot and volatile.
He sorts through them, keeping the most dangerous at the front of his mind while keeping the rest
on the back burner.
His pulse quickens, and he catches a whisper of something from his right. Eyes blinded, Izuku
ducks and dives to the ground. Whatever was launched at him hits the ground and rolls. Izuku
dodges a few more attacks and kicks off towards the corner, feeling the danger rise with each
passing second. He fends off more and more attacks, brushing wind aside with his own and
catching physical items with Blackwhip. Each time he does, the pressure from the thing soars,
swelling until the room grows. Until it explodes.
Izuku flares his Quirk, letting Blackwhip cocoon him in a thick layer of protection. Fire and
shrapnel hit with enough force to knock the wind from his lungs, even at forty percent with his
armor. Izuku lets himself drop to the floor, ready for a follow-up. Cannons roar around him, their
ammo a mix of solid balls and grapeshot. He tanks the smaller balls, batting the big ones aside so
he doesn't lose his ribs.
By now, he's getting pretty annoyed with all the curveballs. There are flamethrowers, air cannons,
real cannons, spears, caltrops, and net guns. It feels like he's in the middle of a warzone, one he
can't see because of the blindfold. He's thankful for his hearing, though. It helps a little, sometimes
picking up on things he's forgotten about in the tangled mess of Danger Sense. But it also hinders
him, like when a literal flash-bang grenade is launched at his face at a hundred miles an hour,
giving him a split second to pick between deflecting it or running. He picks something in between,
knocking it aside with his heel before bursting away. But he's a hair too slow. The flash permeates
through his blindfold, making black spots dance across his eyes. The bang is deafening, and his
ears ring. But he keeps moving, jumping over a wave of fire and tucking into a ball. He spins,
controlling his descent and making his trajectory hard to predict with Float.
He outpaces the attacks, letting gravity take him down as he lets the power fade, but he keeps
everything coiled like a spring, ready to snap in any direction. The opportunity comes right as he
hits the ground, Danger Sense flaring the hardest it has all day. Izuku pops up and takes a solid
stance, hands out in front of him with his feet rooted. Something massive charges him, but Izuku
meets it in the middle. He pushes with his shoulder, driving forward with his legs as his arms fend
off more and more attacks.
Something wraps around his leg, but it snaps from the sheer amount of energy he's producing. The
floor beneath him feels warm from the friction of the object scraping as he pushes. Blackwhip flails
about, under his control for the sake of the exercise. Izuku is caught managing the strands, Danger
Sense, and pushing the object back. It's hard, but he grits his teeth and keeps moving. He knows the
room is large, even if he only got a brief look at it before entering. He's only so far from the
opposite side. He'll keep pushing until he hits a wall and then—
"Stop."
Izuku crashes through the object he was pushing, tumbling head over heels a few times. He pulls
off his blindfold, gagging a little when he feels that it's soaked with sweat. He throws it aside, but it
sticks to the inside of… he's in a solid metal object. There's literally a hole shaped like his body,
and the opening would fit him like a glove. It's a little funny—like those old cartoons with the
coyote ramming into a cliff face—but he has to get out when the metal glows a faint red and he's
still recovering from an intense training session.
With a grunt, he pushes the sides of the metal with his hands and feet. It bends, but only at a full-
powered forty-five percent. He starts to crawl out feet first, ignoring the way his clothes smolder
and how his skin steams. He hops out of the hole and looks around. The room looks like the
aftermath of a very mean-spirited prank war. Oil, water, hunks of scrap, and things he can't even
recognize steam on the ground, and instruments of torture jut from the walls. Izuku sniffs and
shrugs off his jacket. He's much too hot to just stand there, and while activating One for All would
negate the danger, it would only prolong the warmth. Maybe he'll take a walk outside later, without
a coat or scarf.
"The Support students are going to be giddy." One of the walls slides open and Aizawa walks out.
He casually kicks at a metal spear and studies the massive block of metal Izuku was struggling
against.
"Did… were those all prototypes?"
"More or less," Aizawa admits. "We told them what you were capable of and told them whoever
got you to yield automatically gets top marks for the next two semesters."
Izuku looks at a patch of caltrops, which are barbed and pointed at just the right angle so that the
only way to avoid being impaled by them is to land directly on top of them. "That's a little
extreme."
Aizawa shrugs. "You won, sort of. Next time, we'll probably have to implement a power cap.
You're outgrowing what we can reasonably produce here."
"That's what Endeavor says, too." Izuku looks back at the smoldering block of metal. "I… I'm
almost untouchable in terms of brute strength now, aren't I?"
"Yes."
"But there's so much more room for me to grow. How… how am I going to train when I can't
attack without destroying everything I touch?"
"We'll figure something out." Aizawa turns and starts to walk towards the gap in the wall. He
waves for Izuku to follow. "In the meantime, you're doing the right things. Focusing on precision
and managing your power is key. Working with people who also have strong Quirks with high
potential for collateral damage will allow you to learn from people who've been in the same
position as you, even if they're not as strong. Keep going. It'll work out eventually."
"I'd rather figure everything out now, before it gets hectic," Izuku says, turning around a corner and
following Aizawa towards a different training room. "I mean, I—well, the day's getting closer."
"We still have time. You should be thinking about it, but don't let it cloud your focus on your
current training. It's just as important. Anyways," Aizawa says, opening a door and walking in,
"someone's been bugging me about you, and I finally caved."
"Who—"
"Hey there, kiddo!" Present Mic waves a hand in the air, smiling brightly with his glasses perched
on the bridge of his nose. He's in his hero uniform, but it's more casual than usual. He's missing the
heavy-duty speaker around his neck, and his jacket is different. He still feels cheerful and
confident, even though he's clearly tired. Mic's obviously bearing the weight of Kurogiri's true
nature, even if he doesn't have a clue about All for One and One for All.
"Hello, sir!" Izuku greets, stopping short of the man. Behind him, Aizawa rifles through his
pockets and pulls out a pair of earmuffs. "Why are you here?"
"Didn't tell him, huh?" Mic asks Aizawa, who shrugs.
"You're here, you're the expert. Go."
Mic rolls his eyes. "Typical. Anyways, your Quirk enhances the body, right?"
"Yeah."
"Internally and externally?"
"I'd be dead if it didn't."
"Glossing over that," Mic says, a flash of worry in his eyes, "you're missing out on a really cool
aspect of your power! Doesn't it enhance the efficiency of your organs?"
"Kinda?" Izuku chews his lip, trying to think of a way to describe it. "It... I'm like a machine. Or
maybe a computer. My Quirk changes the building material, say, from aluminum to steel. It's
stronger and more durable—faster too. But I'm not changing the complicated bits at all. I'm still
operating on the same hardware. I get a little bit better reflexes, but that's it. I… I can't think faster,
my heart doesn't pump more blood, and my eyes aren't able to see further away."
"Enhanced durability and strength, huh?" Mic taps his throat with two fingers. "Ever try screaming
with it?"
"I… don't think that would work? It's the same principle as my eyes and brain."
"Ah, but you use muscles to speak, and you make sound by pushing air through your vocal cords.
With your extra-durable innards and stronger muscles, you'd be able to get a lot more sound out."
Izuku thinks for a moment. "Alright. How…"
"Activate your Quirk," Mic coaches, "and focus on the muscles you use to breathe." One for All
sparks to life, and Izuku takes a few deep, even breaths. "Good. Now, make sure you keep the
power low. We don't want you to blow out your vocal cords."
"O—"
"Don't talk just yet! I need to give you a few more instructions first." Mic rests a hand on his
stomach. "Breathe downward, if that makes sense. Picture yourself filling up your gut with air. You
should look kinda fat when you do this."
Izuku relaxes and inhales for a few seconds. His abdomen expands, stretching like a rubber band as
it pulls taut.
"Good. Hold for a second. You gotta get used to feeling full, y'know? Anyways, one, two, three, let
it go!" Izuku relaxes, pushing the air out without trying to speak. He feels a little light-headed, and
he blinks rapidly to try and regain his balance. "Weird, huh? You've been breathing all your life but
not like this."
"Yeah," Izuku agrees, "I knew singers and stuff had to have good breath support, but—wait, are
you going to have me sing?"
"Well, yeah," Mic says, smiling. "Do you ever talk so much that your throat hurts the next day?"
"Yeah."
"That's because you use your vocal cords to talk and stuff. Singing does too, but there's ways
around it." Mic pats the part of his stomach directly below his sternum. "You can use your
diaphragm to push the air out. I'm not an expert by any means, but if you do that, it takes the strain
off your vocal cords. I think. I just know it works."
"So…"
"Sing, kiddo. No reason to be shy!"
"I'm not so sure… I mean, how would this help me?"
"Communication, distracting enemies, an extra attack in your arsenal…"
"Yeah, but—"
"Aizawa's wearing earmuffs."
"Okay, fine."
It takes twenty minutes to even figure out how to enhance his voice. Izuku's just not used to using
One for All to strengthen the muscles he uses to breathe, and because they're oftentimes working
subconsciously, there's another level of difficulty. It's like he's trying to practice dialing on an old-
fashioned phone. He has contacts in his current one, and dialing manually takes way more time. He
supposes that if the analogy is to hold up, then dialing manually would result in a better
connection. Because using One for All to make his voice louder works. Really well.
It leaves his vocal cords sore and his lungs wheezing with every breath like he just ran twenty
miles, but he can sing loud enough to give Present Mic a brief bout of tinnitus. But he can only sing
for so long. He's not actually amplifying sound. Well, he is, but not like Mic does. Mic's vocal
cords are literally a few hundred times more powerful than the average human, and his entire aural
system is practically designed for making loud noises. Izuku, though, is basically pushing air out
faster. It makes louder noise, yes, but there's only so much air he can hold, and the faster he pushes
it, the faster it runs out. But even a short burst can do damage.
"Yeesh, I might have to steal Aizawa's earmuffs," Mic says, moving his hands from his ears to pat
Izuku on the back. In front of them, a pane of safety glass lays shattered on the floor. Izuku rubs his
throat, not used to working that part of his body. "Warm tea and honey, kiddo," Mic suggests, "it'll
help. Also, don't whisper. That puts more strain on you, just like yelling. Talk normally."
"O—" Izuku coughs, wincing as the back of his mouth throbs. "Okay."
"We'll take it easy," Mic assures. "No reason to blow your pipes out. Better to take baby steps than
crack your head open on the bottom rung of a ladder."
"Yeah," Izuku agrees. "This'll be useful. I can't imagine the impact clear communication could
have. I mean, to be heard across a city with no technology is..."
"I definitely get ya. It's basically what I do when on rescue assignments. And, uh, as cruel as it
sounds, blowing people's ears out is a good way of apprehending them." Mic gestures to the glass.
"Sound isn't just… sound. It's vibrations, wiggly air. Or water. Or a solid. It travels through pretty
much everything, even if it's just a little. My point is that it has weight, in a way. You stand next to
an explosion and you'll go deaf just as you'll be blown away. So even if they're immune to your
voice, they probably aren't immune to the shockwaves you stir up."
"I'm like an air cannon, then," Izuku muses out loud. "It's almost like one of my Air Forces."
"The attacks will be, if you get good enough at it," Mic agrees, "but the voice projection won't be.
You'll be more like a massive speaker. Shaking the earth and blasting good music."
"Anything I sing won't be good music," Izuku chuckles, "but thank you."
"Thank him," Mic says, jerking his head to where Aizawa lays, fast asleep. "He arranged this. I
didn't even consider how your Quirk would work with your voice."
"I will later," Izuku promises.
"Good. Now get out of here! You've got friends to spend time with!"
And by friends, Mic must mean an agency full of pro heroes eager to fight him. Because that's what
Izuku goes to. Granted, he does stop by and check on his friends while they eat, but he barely stays
long enough to give Nejire a kiss before he has to grab his costume and hop on a train. He signs a
few autographs because he forgot a mask, and ends up in Tokyo at about two o'clock. Like all of
the other days he went in, Izuku heads right for the basement and gets a training room. He changes
into his costume and gets to work.
Izuku finishes his warmups in three hours. They're not as tiring today, in spite of the fact that he
already went for some heavy training. Maybe it's because he worked on more complex moves
instead of the basic stuff. He always feels better about working closer to his upper limit than
holding back. He used to consider it a waste to not work on the big stuff, but now it's sort of like
lifting heavy—hard and fun, but only truly fulfilling after a long bout of working on the easier stuff.
Izuku heads back up to the main lobby, stopping by a locker room to store his clothes before
ending up at the front desk. He fully expects to meet a few sidekicks to spar with, like usual.
Endeavor really only checks up on him at the end of his time at the agency. But today, the man
himself stands in the middle of the lobby, radiating heat.
"Let's go."
"On patrol?"
"Yes. Don't make me regret this."

Izuku expects to be treated like he was at all the other agencies he was working for before: a
shadow, closely monitored and treated like a student. But Endeavor walks out the front doors,
blasts off into the air, and doesn't even wait for Izuku to follow.
"You have an earpiece, correct?" the man asks when Izuku catches up to him easily.
"Yes, sir!"
"Good. Stay within two kilometers of me. I'll be working with the grid system in the HN from
northeast to southwest. Your job is to catch as many as me in the allotted time. If either of us need
backup, we provide assistance immediately."
"You're going to let me work alone?"
Endeavor glares at him as they fly. "You're not a child, and I will not treat you as such. You're
worthy of being a pro already, and tethering you to me would only slow both of us down. Now
move!"
It's five in the evening. It's not quite rush hour, but it's getting there. Izuku loops around block after
block, keeping high so he can see the flashes of Endeavor's fire. Two kilometers sounds like a lot,
but with a city as big as Tokyo and a top speed like Izuku's, it really isn't. But it doesn't matter,
because crime is everywhere. Izuku stops two robberies and responds to a police unit requesting
backup before the hour is up. He gets a few weird looks for being so young, but the results speak
for themselves—and the fact that a kid was wearing a t-shirt with his face on it.
Nothing big happens until around half past seven. Leading up to then, it's all pretty crime and basic
villainy. But once Endeavor crosses over to one of the poorer areas, Izuku feels a tug in his gut.
Danger Sense doesn't often act up on its own—the only time Izuku can think of is when it first
manifested—but when it does, it's always something big.
Izuku climbs higher and higher, raising a finger towards the side of his face, ready to hit the button
on his earpiece. He catches a flash of light from below, and his hair stands on end. He barrel rolls,
catching whatever was thrown with Blackwhip. It's an arrow. A metal arrow with a heart for a
point. Izuku carefully continues to fly, circling around the area the arrow came from. Another flash
of light catches his eye, and he catches a second arrow with two fingers. Now with a target, Izuku
dives, landing on top of a rundown apartment building.
"What the hell?"
Izuku holds out the arrows to a tall, skinny male of about eighteen. He fixes his expression into
something stern, and his hands itch with the temptation to use Blackwhip. "You dropped these."
The boy stares, his pink hair flowing in the cool wind. He doesn't look villainous at first glance,
but that hardly means anything. Izuku's just not sure if he can bring him in without a more solid
reason. And he could be innocent of any malintent, somehow.
"I-I thought you were a bird!" he says, dropping his bow—which matches his arrows with pink
hearts—raising his hands in surrender. "I just—I wanted some target practice."
"Target practice," Izuku says, looking up at the sky where he was just flying. Danger Sense covers
him, and he stays on edge. "You were shooting at a living target five kilometers up in the air?"
"Yes?"
Izuku snatches the bow up with Blackwhip and scans the area around the rooftop. He feels a
danger to him, but not from the boy. Though strangely, he doesn't feel safe, either. "You're lying to
me, aren't you?"
The boy (man? He's close enough to being an adult, but it feels weird calling someone so close to
his age a man) winces and looks down. "Yep."
"I have to bring you in for illegal support item use, and the assault of a hero."
"Please!" The boy takes a big step forward, but Izuku shuffles back, flaring green in warning. "I…
ugh. There's no excuse. I just—wanted to meet you. And, uh, test out my invention a little."
Izuku sighs, wondering if any other hero gets cases like this. Knowing his luck, probably not. "It's
still illegal. And… look, I get that meeting someone you like sounds great, but this?" Izuku holds
up the bow and arrows. "It's too far."
"I can't go to jail."
Izuku feels a pang of sympathy. "Then you shouldn't have done that. Really," he says, watching the
boy start to tear up. "It's not that hard. I'm not worth going to prison for. Now please, come
quietly."
"I k-know I shouldn't have," the boy says, hunching down, "but—you… I… I thought you'd like
my invention, that's all."
Izuku hefts the bow. It's solid and heavy. Considering it shot a few kilometers accurately, then it
has to have more than a few cool tricks. Or the boy used his Quirk. "It's pretty good," Izuku says,
trying to make everything easier, but the way the boy cries tugs at his heart. How long ago did he
long for the approval of his hero? "I still have to bring you in. I… I could get in big trouble if I
don't. And if that happens, then I won't be able to keep working."
"Please," the boy sniffs, "making things is my whole life! I can't go! Not when you're right here to
help me!"
"Help… you?" Izuku's grip on the bow slacks, but he quickly grips it tightly again. Something
feels off. Fake. Foreign. Danger Sense is sure the boy doesn't want to attack him, but Izuku's gut
doesn't feel right. He takes another step back. He licks his lips, already regretting what he's about
to say. "You need help?"
The boy nods, looking down at his shoes. "I… I'm kinda on my own now. Since, well, I'm of age,
technically."
"Technically," Izuku says, unsure if he should be sad that someone got screwed over so early in
their adult life or on guard because he can't think of a single rational adult who'd shoot arrows at a
hero as a cry for help.
"I'm still in school, just… I'm eighteen and my folks kicked me out." The boy looks up, staring at
the bow before looking into Izuku's eyes. "That's probably my ticket to a good life. If... if I can get
it to a proper company, they'll want to make it and I'll have enough money to get started."
"You make support items."
"Yeah."
"How would I even help with that?" Izuku asks. "I dabble in support items too, but I don't have any
connections."
"You're Deku," the boy says like it explains everything. "You go to UA. Surely you'd be able to get
it on the desk of someone important."
Izuku bites his lip and looks away. He counts to ten, and then twenty because his mind and heart
are in a battle of will. "… I'm not going to arrest you," he says, trying to sound tough and
begrudging even though he's a mushy pile of pity and sympathy.
"Really?"
"Ye—" The boy lunges, and Izuku barely keeps himself from instinctively throwing him away. He
latches around his neck, pressing his body against Izuku's. It's not uncomfortable, but Izuku doesn't
feel safe. Not with how the back of his mind warns of something predatory.
"Thank you so much!" he cries into Izuku's shoulder.
"Yeah," Izuku says, awkwardly holding his arms up. "Look, I… I have to take the bow, at least. It's
gonna be obvious that I responded to a disturbance, and if I come back empty-handed…"
"You'll be punished," the boy says, pulling away. He keeps hold of Izuku's shoulders, but not a
firm one. He looks down, clearly understanding. "That's fine. I have the plans for it. But money for
parts…"
Izuku shrugs off the boy's hands and reaches for his wallet. He pulls out a fistful of bills. "Here,"
he says, handing them over. "I have more than enough. It probably won't pay for this"—he holds
up the bow—"but it's better than nothing."
"Thank you, thank you, thank you!" the boy says, taking a step forward before backing off
nervously. "Sorry, I just…"
"A hug's fine. Just make it qu—"
Izuku's ribs are promptly crushed. The boy's strong despite his slim build. Probably from working
in a shop all day. He reeks of motor oil and smoke. "Thanks aga—"
An explosion goes off ten blocks away, the shockwave enough to shatter the glass of the building
below them. Izuku hears his earpiece go off. "I gotta go." He looks down at the bow and arrows
and then at the boy. "Stay right here unless you're about to die. What's your name, so I can find
you after if I need to?"
The boy smiles, but it doesn't match his face. It's too wide, and his canines are like fangs, clashing
with his, well, average-looking features. "Hatsume Harley."
Izuku makes it to the scene of the explosion in a flash. An entire city block burns, but a fire brigade
is already working on it. Izuku perches on top of a water tower, making sure there aren't any
buildings in danger of collapse. The sound of jets of fire and something big plowing through a city
street fills his ears. He hits his earpiece. "Deku here."
"Back me up. Now! Do not try to go on cleanup duty!"
Izuku doesn't respond. He kicks off the second the line goes dead, spinning through the supports of
another water tower and pulling himself towards Endeavor's position with Blackwhip. He catches
up in a matter of seconds, and despite Endeavor's orders, he puts out a fire before it can burn down
a store. But that's only because he's not sure where to join in.
Endeavor clashes with a monster right out of a children's novel. It's massive, hairy, and has claws
sharp enough to shave with. And each time Endeavor burns it, the thing knits itself back together in
a display of pink muscle fibers. Familiar pink muscle fibers.
"I'm here!" Deku calls, soaring overhead to make himself known. Endeavor ducks under a swipe of
claws and shoots a white-hot jet of flame in the thing's bear-like face.
"Grab it!"
Izuku acts without hesitation, slamming his feet into the beast's back. It stumbles, and Izuku wraps
it from head to toe, pinning it to the ground. It struggles, and it's strong enough to make holding on
somewhat difficult. Izuku can keep it down, but not indefinitely.
Endeavor steps forward, kneeling in front of its covered head. "Let it speak."
Izuku carefully unravels the whips around the head, reinforcing the bindings on its legs with the
extra energy he gains. The beast roars, shaking the earth and blowing back Endeavor's hair.
"Are you human?" the hero asks, unfazed. He only gets another roar in response. He looks up at
Izuku. "There's nothing here, bar you, that can hold this thing."
"Are you sure?" Izuku asks. "We're in Tokyo. The police station might—"
"What percent are you at?"
"Fifty," Izuku says. "Three-quarters effort."
Endeavor nods. "That's nearing All Might's strength. The only place that can hold something that
powerful is Tartarus, and the transport to that place left yesterday. It won't be back until tonight."
"I can't keep it until then. Maybe an hour, tops, but until nightfall?"
Endeavor stands, mind made up. "Wrap the head again." Izuku does. "We're going to kill it."
"Sir?"
"You heard me."
"I…" Izuku swallows. "It could be human," he tries, but deep down, he has his doubts. If it's a
project of All for One's, then it's long since lost its humanity. "Maybe we could fly it to the prison
ourselves?"
"We'd be shot down, no questions asked." Endeavor reaches into his pocket and pulls out his
phone. He types something into it. The device buzzes and he puts it back in his pocket. "All Might
would be the only one who could deal with this in a clean way. He's out of action right now,
leaving me as the top hero and you as one of the strongest people in the country. Neither of us can
do what he can. So we're going to kill it."
"Could we knock it out?"
"We can try, but I doubt that it will work. You saw its reconstructive capabilities. I fried its bones
away before you showed up. Its arms are nothing but muscle tissue. What's to say it won't construct
something around its head to keep it from absorbing the full impact?"
The monster bucks as though to prove Endeavor's point. Izuku forces it back down, feeling
something budge against Blackwhip. Probably muscle fibers, just like the villain on the highway.
"There has to be a place with something to contain this."
"That equipment is kept locked up tighter than UA," Endeavor says. "The only way to get it is
through the Hero Commission, who are known for taking eons to approve paperwork."
Izuku looks down at the villain. His hands shake. "Okay. Where?"
"In the sky, where there are no people or buildings."
Izuku climbs, keeping even with Endeavor. His stomach shoots in the opposite direction as he does,
and the weight of the villain sways under him. He doesn't want to kill. Even if it's a villain or
completely animalistic, it's alive. Surely it deserves to live a little. Cutting it short would be awful
and wrong. But the damage the thing caused can be seen from the air, and it's not pretty. He's seen
worse. He's caused worse at U.A. But it's different. People were hurt—maybe killed, too—and the
monster did it mindlessly, without remorse or regret, because it's probably impossible for it to feel
anything. That's worse, in Izuku's mind.
He starts to think as Endeavor orders him to open a section of the whips. If… if he's okay with
helping with the death of a mindless monster sent by All for One, then… should he be okay with
killing All for One? It's only right. He thinks back to a few movies he saw as a kid where the good
guy spends hours beating up on goons and minions mindlessly, only to spare the main villain,
who's done much worse than any grunt could. It doesn't make sense, and neither do his opinions on
taking life. Where does he draw the line?
The monster takes five full-powered fifty percent smashes and a Jet Burn to the face. It stays
awake, angry and violent. Izuku feels himself start to go numb.
"If we can't even damage it like this, how…"
"Drowning."
Izuku flinches. That would be an awful way to go. "Isn't there—"
"How are you holding up?" Izuku stares, unsure if that was actual care in Endeavor's words.
"Report on how fatigued you are." Ah.
"Very," Izuku admits. "I trained hard today, and it's still fighting back. I can't hold for longer than
an hour."
"That's not enough time to wait for a hero with a better Quirk," Endeavor says gruffly. "You'll
either have to knock it out with a full-force hit, something you can't do sustainably until we get
transport, or drown it in the sea."
"We could get Recovery—"
"You don't have enough energy."
Izuku looks out at the Pacific Ocean to the south. Even if a hundred percent could knock the
monster out, it would wake up eventually and he'd have to fight it again. He'd be worn down
before the materials needed to bind it got to them. And there definitely aren't enough tranquilizers
or Quirk suppressants nearby to knock it out that way either. Not for long, anyway. He'll have to
kill it.
"I'd like to try knocking it out again."
"It won't work out how you want it to."

"It won't die in pain."
Endeavor says nothing. He only stares, eyes cold and full of apathy. Izuku takes a deep breath and
throws the monster up in the air. Its roar pierces the sky like a swan song. Izuku brings his leg back
and kicks. There's a crunch, a crack of artificial lightning, and the boom of thunder. Clouds swirl,
and it starts to rain. The beast hangs limp, but there's still a pulse.
They don't drown it. It can't fight back, so there's no point. Endeavor has Izuku take it to a
shipyard, where he burns it to a crisp. It doesn't regenerate or rebuild what the fire eats. It can't. It
only lies there, turning to ash. Izuku won't ever forget the way Endeavor looks as he kills the thing.
Like one would shovel filth or how a meat packer guts a cow: methodic, unfeeling. Like a
machine. The smell of burning flesh refuses to wash out of Izuku's costume.
[x]
"Boop."
A finger pokes Izuku's nose, small but calloused and strong. He wants to smile, but a cloud hangs
over his mind, oppressive and dark, like smoke.
"I love you."
"Love you, too."
He can feel Nejire pout from his spot on the ground. They're having a picnic, a sweet and romantic
outing ruined by the fact that Izuku can't feel joy. "You said it wrong."
"I'm sorry."
"No, it's okay." Nejire takes his hands, leaning over him. His eyes are in line with her lips, which
twist into a soft smile. Her hair hangs down and tickles his neck, warm in the cool September air.
"It was a bad idea to do this today. What idiot has a picnic in the middle of fall?"
"It's not your fault."
"It's not yours either."
Izuku closes his eyes. "It kinda is."
"Nope." Nejire leans in and kisses his forehead. She pulls away, and the cold air makes it sting
against his skin. He feels her lay down next to him, wrapping around his arm like a monkey does to
a tree. "You did nothing wrong."
"I did."
"No, you didn't."
"You don't even know the full story. No one does."
"Yeah, but I know you. I know that you would never act in a way that you'd regret later."
"I'm regretting it right now."
"Are you?" Nejire asks, placing a hand over his heart. "Is it regret? Or is it grief for what had to
happen?"
Izuku sighs. "I regret that the situation played out that way. But…" He cringes. "I think that if I had
to do it over, I'd do the same thing. There… it was the best option."
"Yeah."
"I still don't feel like a good person."
"Do… do you want to talk about it?"
"I guess."
"Okay. Do you want me to listen or help?"
"Listen."
"Alright. Go ahead."
Izuku opens his eyes and looks at the sky. Treetops ring his vision. "I eat meat. I swat flies. I'm
responsible for death already, just like everyone else. But I feel dirty. Dirty for helping to kill that
thing, even if it had to die. I just… I feel lost. Why am I okay with one thing but not the other? I
know that if I really was an advocate of preserving all life, then I'd go vegan or something. I'd also
start campaigning against the death penalty. But I don't want to do those things. I… As cruel as it
seems, the people on death row deserve it. It only gets used for cases with indisputable evidence."
"Particularly heinous crimes caught on camera, I know," Nejire coaches, stroking his hair.
"Yeah. But that thing felt different from a convicted serial killer or even a cow or a pig or a
chicken. I just don't know why. Maybe because I saw it? Maybe because it was me actually there,
helping, instead of being far away. I just don't know. But now…" Izuku squeezes his fist, silently
cursing All for One. "I made the right choice. I know that. I feel guilt, but not regret. And I… Well,
I already said I'd do it again. I saved lives by killing the thing. And I didn't lose sleep after."
"What's it like?"
"What?"
"Killing. It's okay if you can't tell. I just… my Quirk's really powerful. Ryukyu thinks I could be as
strong as Endeavor. And one day I might…"
"I didn't actually kill it. But I helped. I knocked it out and made sure it didn't go anywhere while it
was burned in its sleep. But it felt cold. Really, really cold. I wanted to shiver, despite the flames. I
also felt kind of out of it, if that makes sense. Like I was watching a movie of it happening, except I
could feel and hear and smell and taste…"
"You can stop."
"Thanks."
Nejire squeezes his hand, pulling herself closer. "Thank you. For trusting me."
Izuku half smirks. "Thanks for letting me unload."
"I love you. Of course I'd be willing to listen."
"Still, I… love you."

"That's better."
Izuku looks at her, taking in the way her hair scatters in the wind. "This was a pretty bad way to
spend the weekend before your birthday."
"And the Cultural Festival," Nejire says, smiling thinly. "But you have a lot on your plate, so…"
"That's an understatement," Izuku chuckles humorlessly. "New agency, a project for the Festival,
training, the fact that my father is dead and was a villain, Endeavor…"
"Wh… what was that last one?"
"Endeavor?"
"The one before it."
"My dad…" Izuku trails off, looking away.
"I'm not mad or scared. Just curious."
Izuku nods. "Yeah, uh… I think he was involved with the Yakuza. Actually, I have proof that he
was. And I've seen his grave. So, uh, you're dating the son of some slimy organized crime boss?"
Nejire giggles. "Good to know."
"Yeah. Actually, the boss is pushing it. I'm pretty sure he was like a diplomat or something. Maybe
a hitman, which is… heavy."
"You're not your father."
"I know."
"Good. It took me forever to figure that out myself."
"Yeah, your dad is…"
"He is, but I'm talking about my mom."
"I'm guessing she wasn't the best?"
"No, she was." Nejire chews her lip.
"I can listen."
"Dork," Nejire says, softly kissing the corner of his mouth, "but okay. Mom was abusive."
"Ah."
"Yeah. I don't remember her since she… went away when I was two or three. But Dad… he's the
way he is because of her. And that's not a dig against him—anyone who puts up with the likes of
her has the right to be a little unstable. But yeah. When she left, it was just me and him, and he was
a wreck. I kinda had to put him together, and… I sorta had to replace her."
"How?"
"Apparently, she was really happy all the time. Always smiling and stuff, even while she… never
mind. Dad missed that, in a way. Her joy. Because he did love her. He loved how she smiled and
stuff. And little me apparently thought that he needed that kind of stuff back in his life. It wasn't
healthy and it's why we're in therapy together. But it helped, at least a little. It made him less
moody and stuff. But it wasn't good at all."
"So you…"
"Forced myself to be happy? Yeah. Until middle school where I realized that I was acting like an
abuser—an abuser who hurt my only family. And then, well… I became a shut-in. In the worst
possible way."
"How did you get to be…" Izuku gestures at the sky, at a loss. "You're happy and bright, right? Just
not…"
"I watched a video online."
"Really?"
"Yep. I was up at two thirty-one AM, watching random videos online. I stumbled across an
interview from a pro who's not around anymore. Her name was Rhea."
"Never heard of her," Izuku lies, feeling his heart stir up.
"She was amazing. Strong, beautiful, and just… perfect. She talked about how smiling changes
everything, and how continuing to move when others can't is one of the bravest things you can do.
I decided that day that I was acting like her and not my mother, and, well, I got into UA."
Rhea. Shimura Nana. Seven. Izuku beams, warmth flooding his chest. He rolls over, holding
himself up above Nejire by his knees and forearms. He kisses her. "You're awesome."
"… You too."
How dare All for One try to take his joy. How dare he try to dull his love. How dare Izuku let his
greatest enemy pry his way into his mind. He said before that he's not going to let that bastard live
in his mind or make him crumble, and he came so close to doing so today. But he can't waver, not
even for a second. Doing so means he'll lose when it matters most.
It's just a shame he forgot about the boy on the roof, and smiles unaware of how she giggles over
pictures of his twisted leg and the warmth of his two hugs.
Chapter End Notes
Step right up to watch me juggle five different plot lines at once. I haven't made an ass
of myself (yet) and I hope to continue to not do so. Yeah.
Lots of stuff happening now. Some of it sweet, some of it angsty. All of its good for
the plot and characters, though. I think. Nejire's backstory has been on the list of things
to write about since forever, and now I finally did it. Izuku sees that Endeavor's not a
good person, but still respects him as a hero. And Toga...
I hope you enjoyed. Cheers.
Join my discord!
Love.
Chapter Notes
As of November 14, 2021 this chapter has been edited by my beta, flauel.
Patrol. Something normal, routine, basic. Nothing special. Except for when he has to tail a killer
and investigate the area where a monster rampaged just a few days before. Technically it's not a
patrol, but Izuku and Endeavor are the heaviest hitters in all of Japan, and when the clean-up effort
is under the risk of another attack, the workers need some protection. So they make the rounds,
keeping in touch with the weaker pros. Izuku helps with moving some rubble and stabilizes a few
buildings. The workers are thankful, and everyone on sight feels safe. Except for the press.
"… Unfortunately, we missed the live coverage of the incident, but there is plenty of amateur
footage to work with. It's clear that the attack was perpetrated by some kind of inhuman monster.
Appearing at approximately eight in the evening, it tore through downtown Tokyo before being
stopped by Endeavor and Deku. Casualties—look right there!"
Izuku winces as he sets down an empty dumpster. A news anchor and camera crew rush over,
frantically talking about getting more information. Izuku nods to the workers and tells them he'll be
back when the dumpster is full again before setting himself down on the ground. He starts to walk
away, back to the camera. He could just fly off, but they would be too obvious. If he works while
they try to get him to talk, they might get the hint and go away. Or so he hopes.
"Deku! Over here!"
Izuku stops walking, counting to three before putting a smile on. There are so many things he
could be doing instead of an interview, things that are actually beneficial, but he has an image to
uphold, and, well, the people deserve some answers after what happened. A block and a half were
destroyed, and the official cause is a drug-induced rampage. No one buys it, considering that it's no
secret that Endeavor put down an animal of some kind. Animals can't do drugs without human
interference, especially in the middle of Tokyo. It's only rational to be suspicious.
"Hey, what can I do for you?" Izuku turns and stands tall as two cameras are shoved into his face
and a short interviewer frantically fixes their hair.
"Just a few questions," the reporter says, positioning themselves next to Izuku. They barely come
up to his shoulder, and the cameras have to back off a little to get them more in the frame. It has the
added benefit of making Izuku feel more comfortable. "I'm a big fan and no one wants to keep
someone like you busy for long."
"Thanks, I appreciate that," Izuku says, looking around to see if there's an excuse somewhere that
would let him leave. The closest thing is a group of clean-up workers playing cards over their
break. "Go ahead and ask away."
"How do you feel about the rankings?"
"No comment—wait, what?" Izuku looks down at the reporter, surprised. Don't they want to know
about the attack?
"The hero rankings," the reporter repeats. They hold the microphone up to Izuku's face. "They were
delayed due to All Might's vacation and the fact that he asked for them to be recounted. Your
thoughts?"
"… I mean if All Might wants a recount, I suppose we should give it to him," Izuku says, still a
little stunned. He barely remembers talking to Toshinori about it, but he knows that it's not a big
deal compared to the path of destruction they're standing in. "Uh, I guess it's good for all the other
heroes. They'll have more time to shine, and maybe we'll see some shake-ups in the rankings. I'm
no expert, so I can't say much."
"Do you agree with your fans on Best Jeanist?"
Izuku blinks. "Huh?"
"You interned with Hawks and are currently working with Endeavor," the reporter explains. "A lot
of people are even bigger fans of them now because of you, while Jeanist has fallen to the side. Do
you agree?"
"Well, I… it's hard to argue with facts, I guess," Izuku says, "but Best Jeanist is a great hero, and he
doesn't deserve to lose out on respect just because I haven't had the opportunity to learn from him."
"I see. And where do you expect to rank this season?"
Izuku laughs. "Oh, I dunno. Zero, I guess."
"We'd all like a real answer," the reporter pushes.
Izuku takes a moment once he realizes they're being completely serious. "I'm a student," he says
slowly, "and sixteen. I can't place, and even if I could, I wouldn't be worthy of it. I'm just too new
to this whole thing."
"You're so humble," the reporter says, bringing their mic back down to speak into it. "But your
fanclubs have been organizing to vote for you as a write-in candidate. Do you think they'll get you
a spot? Most seem to think you deserve to be in the top thirty at least."
"Fan… clubs?" Izuku asks, having heard nothing of them.
"Yes! There's currently three of them. Three major ones, anyways. If you ask me, they're all pretty
much the same, even if they claim to be different."
"Three?" Izuku stares down at the reporter, trying to wrap his head around everything. "I… okay. I
mean, I don't. There's a ton of heroes who've put in a lot of work and deserve to be voted for. I'm
just a high school student with a flashy Quirk. I can wait for my turn."
"As expected of you!" the reporter says with a smile. "Well, we've probably gotten enough
footage. You can return to your duties."
"You… don't want to know about the villain attack?"
"Hm? Oh, that was an animal attack, right? You took care of it."
"Yeah… sure."
Izuku picks up some more trash and hauls some cement mix to the areas that are ready for it. He
checks in with Endeavor and takes a break, sitting on an undamaged roof. Pulling out his phone, he
looks up Deku fanclubs. Twenty thousand results. Three websites, twenty blogs, a few hundred
Twitter accounts—all dedicated to him. He knows what's probably on them. He was (still is, even
if he won't admit it) a gold-star member of the biggest All Might fanclub. He also followed a few
Hawks and Miruko pages. Seeing the word simp next to his hero name is nightmare fuel given
what he's seen before. But because he's an idiot, he taps the first link anyway.
It's not that bad at first glance. A simple bio about what the site is about and a few ground rules.
The banner is a gif of him at the Sports Festival, biting into his medal. Below that is a picture of
him from the photoshoot a while back. He scrolls down. It's mostly pictures, a few anecdotes about
fan interactions, and talk of hero rankings. But then he sees the fanart and decides that he's better
off getting something to eat.
He stops an attempted mugging with a sandwich in hand and makes his way back to Endeavor.
There's not much for him to do anymore. Construction has gotten so fast in the modern era that
demolition and the like can be done in a matter of hours, and Izuku doesn't have a clue of how to
help with making a structure. So he requests to go on patrol. Endeavor deliberates for a moment but
allows it, and Izuku takes to the sky. The wind ruffles his hair and chills his face as Izuku heads for
a more crime-heavy section of the city.
It's not really a surprise that he ends up by the shipping yards. There are all sorts of shady stuff
there, even if it's not overt. Smuggling, theft, fraud, and all classes of villainy. Izuku gets dirty
looks just for walking around in a costume. He knows his mom would have a heart attack if she
could see him like this, but he keeps Danger Sense on high alert. There's nothing. The blankness
allows his mind to wander, all the way to Shale Shipping and the man who worked for it.
The Shie Hassaikai don't have a foothold in Tokyo anymore. None of the Yakuza groups do, to his
knowledge. Too many heroes, too many smaller groups and individuals willing to fight to keep it a
free market. But Izuku pokes around anyway, making note of the companies present. Most are
fishing vessels, at least in the section that he's in. The docks are smaller, practically dwarfs
compared to the massive ones for the shipping vessels. He still learns a lot, though. While there's
no danger, Izuku can feel an uneasiness in the Quirk whenever he takes a step too close to a ship or
a warehouse. He's being watched, and plenty of people are on high alert. Which means he can tell
who's legit and who's not. Or at least who's willing to attack a hero to keep their business
untouched.
It's interesting. Izuku's used to the hustle and bustle of city streets, but the docks feel almost sleepy.
People still run around, hauling catches and docking boats, but the energy feels different. Looser,
less rigged. Izuku watches a man light a cigarette with a flame coming from his thumb. He shoots
an interested look his way and gets a rude gesture in return. Izuku keeps walking, unphased.
The kind of people here have less respect for the law and heroes. It's a common trait, he finds.
They litter, gamble, and harass just about everyone while Izuku is right there. Because what could
he do about it? Arrest half the workers on minor charges, send them to court, maybe force them to
pay a few fines or spend some time in jail. All that would happen would be a few low-level
criminals back out on the streets. In the long term, he'd have made dozens of people angry—
probably more, actually—and in the short term, there'd be a lack of dock workers. So Izuku keeps
walking.
After a while, he decides to abandon the idea of patrolling the docks. There's just no point to it. He
heads for the inner city instead, where most of Tokyo's crime hotspots are. He quickly captures
three villains and prevents a car crash. After another quick interview, he moves on. But Shale and
Hisashi stick in his head. He knows it's probably dangerous to go poking around, but he can't help
it. He just wants to know exactly what his father did. Maybe it would help with leads on All for
One, not that there are any shortages. Tsukauchi has been tearing his hair out following every
paper trail. But Izuku feels like it's different, and he keeps thinking about it. And that's why he
almost misses the robbery. Almost.
"Outta the way!"
Izuku reflexively catches a shower of glass shards as three masked figures leap out of the front
display of a jewelry store. He quickly sets the glass down, binding the criminals before they can
get a headstart. "Someone call the police," he orders, walking forward as he makes sure Blackwhip
has them completely secure. The three criminals struggle and curse, but it's useless. Nothing short
of him or All Might could break the whips.
"I thought there weren't supposed to be any heroes here! What gives!"
"Those punks lied to us, dumbass. We'll get 'em back once we're free."
"That's not going to happen any time soon," Izuku says, putting on a smile for the five phone
cameras that are already out. "The police will be here shortly. You'll be facing charges of robbery
and destruction of property. Maybe even illegal Quirk use depending on how you stole the items."
The next round of curses is cut off by the sound of a police siren. Izuku turns and swings the
criminals closer to the street right as a pair of police cruisers pull up. The officers are quick to get
out, assess the situation, and slap cuffs on the criminals. It's perfect. Too perfect. Then the radio in
the first cruiser crackles to life.
"Reports of arson near the Tokyo Skytree. Possible terrorist attack. Heroes responding."
"I'm gonna get going," Izuku says, watching the officers secure the criminals in their vehicles.
"But that's all the way across the city," one says, clearly skeptical. Izuku only smiles and nods.
"Yeah. It is."
Izuku thinks as he flies. By the Tokyo Skytree is about as vague a description as it gets since the
thing is absolutely huge. But then, after a massive burst, he appears a few hundred meters out from
the tower, and understands. Smoke pours out of a large office building, the name on the side
obscured by fire. Firefighters are already responding, and water-type heroes are furiously shooting
into the flames. But there are no villains to be found.
Dashing down to where the largest crowd of first responders is, Izuku searches for someone in
charge. An orange, flashing light sits on the pavement a good sixty meters from the burning
building. A fire chief stands over it, talking to police, heroes, EMTs, and other firefighters. Izuku
runs over to him, waiting until he's done telling a squad of bomb disposal officers to wait until they
have the fire under better control. The man whirls around and looks at Izuku, stone-faced.
"What."
"I want to help."
"What've you got?"
"I'm mostly combat-based, but I'm fireproof. I have a ventilator and goggles. If needed, I'm
confident that I could carry multiple vehicles."
"How fireproof are you?"
Izuku casts a glance over at the building. "Enough to withstand the heat for a few minutes."
"Go up to the top and search for people. Be prepared to find bodies. The instant you feel woozy,
you report back to me. Understand?"
"Yes, sir!"
Izuku flies to the top of the building, sliding his mask up and pulling his goggles over his eyes.
Danger Sense runs wild, warning of building collapse and suffocation. But he keeps going, letting
One for All swell to fifty percent and then pushing to fifty-five for extra protection. It makes his
bones creak, but it's worth it to stay alive.
The flames lick at his costume, parting around him as he walks along the very top of the building.
The fabric is new, based on Endeavor's own suit. It won't burn or char, and as long as he plays it
safe, it'll hold up for years. Carefully, Izuku searches for a hole in the top of the building, following
the thick clouds of smoke. He finds one, and instantly feels his ventilator start to work overtime.
He's lucky he thought to upgrade it along with his goggles. There's no way he'd make it without
the extra power. The smoke is just so thick; it blinds him as he lowers into the top floor of the
building.
Izuku knows it's foolish. He knows it's reckless. He knows it goes against everything he's learned
about self-worth. But he can't help it. He casts Danger Sense out, willing his protectiveness to
cover the floor. He feels nothing. Timidly, he casts the net out wider. Nothing. Nothing on the top
five floors. He's not stupid. He knows what it means. But he can't just leave. As all-encompassing
as Danger Sense is, he forces himself to find hope in the chance that it might be wrong. So Izuku
wraps himself in Blackwhip, extends a few strands, and begins to sweep the entire floor.
He works down, keeping tabs on the stability of the building. Should it fall, he'll be ready. But he
might not have to be. His search is quick but thorough. He finds lots of people, too. He refuses to
think of them as bodies. Not yet. Not when there's still hope. Izuku does his best to get everyone
out as fast as he can, taking multiple trips to where all the ambulances are. He finds comfort in the
fact that other people have been saved and uses it to redouble his efforts. He doesn't stop searching
until the fire is out, and even then he finds himself wanting to go back and double-check.
"It's pointless, you know."
Izuku looks up to see Endeavor, who for once has the fire of his face put out. He's just as cold and
stony as usual, but he looks tired. Somehow, he's aged ten years since Izuku last saw him.
"As long as there's a chance, there's a reason."
Endeavor shakes his head. "There's search and rescue specialists on the scene. They'll find what's
left. We have more important things to be doing."
"Like what?"
"Rest. You're off duty for the remainder of the night and are taking the day off tomorrow to
recuperate."
"I can keep going."
"Perhaps, but you'd run yourself ragged doing so. If that were to happen, who'd be on standby if we
had another attack? You're more useful resting, as am I."
"Fine. I'll see you Thursday, then."
"Not quite."
"Huh?" Izuku's hand pulls away from his pocket where his phone sits. He was going to update his
mom, but the way Endeavor spoke grabbed his attention.
"You're invited to my residence for dinner Wednesday evening."
"Just me?"
"Yes."
Izuku considers it for a moment. "Alright. But my mom's going to make me bring something to
eat."
"That is acceptable."
[x]
Dinner. At Endeavor's place. Or is it Mr. Todoroki now? That feels wrong; it's definitely still
Endeavor. But how does he address the family? He already calls Shoto 'Shoto' because the boy
doesn't care, but what about the rest of the family? How big is the rest of the family? What are
they eating? Is it fancy? His mom made him bring homemade rice cakes, and suddenly they feel
way underwhelming. But Izuku forces himself to walk up to the gates and hit the buzzer.
"Name?" a voice says, robotic and echoey.
"Midoriya."
"You may enter."
The gates swing inward, completely silent as the dim sunset reflects off the metal. Izuku takes a
few steps forward, unsure of what to do because the front yard is huge. A path leads up to the
house, but ten more branch off to other areas. It's ridiculous.
"Midoriya."
Izuku nearly jumps at the sound of Shoto's voice. The boy can be so quiet at times—it's sort of
scary. "Hi, Shoto," Izuku greets. "Um, I'm guessing I just follow you?"
"Yes."
Shoto turns and walks off towards the house, feet barely making a sound on the path. Izuku walks
behind him, taking in the sights. They walk up the front steps and into the mudroom. They take off
their shoes and enter the house proper. The first room is practically empty. There's no furniture or
decorations. But there are three other doors, one for each wall. Shoto walks through the one
directly ahead, into the dining room.
"Sit," the boy says, taking the rice cakes from Izuku. "We'll be out in a moment. Pour yourself tea
if you'd like. No one will care."
Izuku watches Shoto slink off through another door. He stares at the table. It's low to the floor with
no chairs—the traditional kind, the kind he hasn't sat at in years. Gingerly, he walks over to it and
kneels. Tucking his legs under him, Izuku rests his hands in his lap. It's not uncomfortable, but it
doesn't feel right. He needs a chair.
Sighing, he reaches for the teapot and grabs a cup. Both are heavy and expensive. He pours his tea
and takes a careful sip. It's spicy, tasting strongly of cinnamon and ginger. It's also smooth and
crisp, perfectly brewed just like Nedzu's pots.
Nursing his cup, Izuku studies the room. There are a few decorations, but the main attraction is
clearly the table. The walls, floor, and lights all have a cold feeling to them, just like the rest of the
house and even the man that owns it. Nothing feels lived in. It's all spotless and perfect—
unnaturally so. Izuku takes another sip and tries to brush it off.
"H-hello." Izuku gently sets down his tea and stands. He's met with an average-height woman with
white hair and red highlights. She looks about twenty-five, and holds a tray of biscuits.
"Hi," Izuku says. "Nice to meet you?" The woman bows, which he returns. She walks over and sets
the tray down in the middle of the table before looking at him. She's not nervous. In fact, she
carries herself quite confidently. But she's stiff. Awkward like Izuku used to be around new people.
"I am Todoroki Fuyumi," she says, bowing again.
"Midoriya Izuku. Thank you for having me."
The woman nods and looks down at the table. "You may sit at the head. You're the guest."
"Oh," Izuku says, realizing he probably sat in someone else's spot. "I can move." He bends down
and reaches for his cup, but Fuyumi beats him to it. She carefully transfers it to the head of the
table, making sure to not spill a drop. She looks up at him as though expecting something.
"Ah, sorry," Izuku says, taking a seat. "I haven't had to eat like this for a while. I'm not exactly
from a very traditional family."
"I understand," Fuyumi says, taking the spot to his immediate right. She lays her legs to the side,
facing him slightly as she reaches for the teapot. She pours herself a cup and refills Izuku's.
"Thank you."
"Of course. Biscuit?"
"Sure."
They sit in silence for a while, sipping tea and eating biscuits. It feels wrong, in a way, like they
shouldn't be doing this. But Izuku can't explain why. "When will your family join us?"
"Soon," Fuyumi says, sounding a little relieved. "Father is finishing up some paperwork, Natsuo is
double-checking his homework, and Shoto is… being Shoto."
"I see. This tea is good. Did you brew it?"
"I did," Fuyumi nods. "I've been making tea and food since I was little. I actually prepared tonight's
meal."
"I'm sure it'll be as good as the tea, then."
"Thank you."
"Fuyumi." Endeavor clears his throat in the entryway, barely fitting through the door frame. "The
boys are almost ready. Set the table."
Fuyumi stands and walks away, leaving Izuku and Endeavor alone. "Good evening, sir."
"Evening." Endeavor enters the dining room, taking a seat at the other end of the table closest to
the door. He pours tea for himself but doesn't drink. "You're required to fill out paperwork for the
incident two days ago."
"I figured I would be," Izuku says. "I can pick it up at the agency during my next shift. Are there
any leads?"
"Yes." Endeavor's eyes bore into Izuku's, cold and calculating. "A few. The first person out of the
building had a sheet of paper stapled to his forehead. It had a gang sign printed on it, one that's
been seen before, but only as tags marking territory."
"So it was an organization testing the waters," Izuku says. "It makes sense that they'd try to see
what they could pull without All Might around. Is there already an investigation?"
"Yes. And that robbery you stopped before reporting the scene of the attack is part of it."
"How?"
"Twenty villains apprehended in the half-hour leading up to the explosion reported being sold
faulty information," Endeavor explains. "This isn't unusual. One group wants to hit a target but
doesn't want to take the heat. So they sell out others, make expendable people to keep the police
and heroes busy. Then they hit the target hard."
"So the attack was like that, then."
"It seems that way, though most situations like it happen in reverse. Arson is committed as a
distraction, not the main crime. Though with an attack of that scale, it's no surprise that they
wanted to have a better shot at a getaway. If I had gotten there faster, I could've arrested them."
"Do we have a motive?"
"No. But the villains arrested claim that the group is idealistic and young. Rebellion against society
would be a vague way to describe it, but we can't know without more intel."
"I see." Izuku fights the urge to tap his fingers on the table. "So what do we do?"
"We stay the course," Endeavor says, finally drinking from his teacup. "The police are already
ripping apart Tokyo. We simply must wait until there's an uptake in robberies. When that happens,
we must be ready to rush to the scene of the next attack."
"I feel like we should be doing more. Preemptive rather than reactive, you know?"
"Heroes are reactive by nature," Endeavor says. "If we go knocking around, we'll send them
hibernating. The best and most simple solution is to wait them out and pounce."
"I understand."
"Excuse us." Fuyumi chooses that moment to walk in, flanked on either side by her brothers.
Todoroki Natsuo is a plain-looking boy with white hair and a gruff expression. He does little to
hide his disdain for Izuku as he sits at his father's left. Shoto is as cold as ever and sits at
Endeavor's right, shifted away by a meter or so. Fuyumi sets the table and returns to Izuku's right,
so close he can hear her breathing.
The four of them look at Izuku, who shifts under their gazes. He dips his head and reaches for his
chopsticks. "I'm grateful for the meal."
The meal in question passes by awkwardly. Izuku learns that Natsuo is in med school and that
Fuyumi is a kindergarten teacher. Actually, he learns a lot about Fuyumi, mostly through
Endeavor. Apparently, she's great with kids and isn't married. Izuku brushes that aside and talks to
the woman herself a little. She's nice, sweet, and quiet. He doesn't mind her at all, a fact that seems
to make Natsuo angry if the way he glares is any indication. But Izuku keeps a level head. He
compliments the food and the state of the house, and makes sure to finish the meal. He stays for
dessert but not much longer after that. He's walked to the front of the house by Fuyumi and exits
the gates, ready to sleep. In doing so, he misses a rather important phrase.
"Ten years is hardly a large age gap."
Izuku wakes up the next morning feeling refreshed. He goes about his routine as usual but walks
out the door a half-hour early with an extra weight in his backpack. Today's the day: the Cultural
Festival. It's not a big deal on its own, since he doesn't have to worry about a massive project, but
it's still important, both to him, the school, and his friends, along with the thousands of people
attending. But even that doesn't shake him up. He feels great. He'll show up, hang out with his
friends, work his stand for a while, and then visit the other attractions.
If he can get away from his stand, that is. Aizawa has made it no secret that ticket sales have
increased this year, probably because of him. Izuku just hopes people are respectful of his
schedule, but he knows hero fans.
"Morning," Izuku greets, setting down his backpack on top of his desk. Aizawa cracks open an eye
from his spot against the wall. He closes it and relaxes.
"You better get a move on. Both to get your stuff ready and to help out the support courses."
"I guess they need some heavy lifting done?"
"Yeah."
Izuku nods and unpacks his bag. He leaves all of his school supplies in the classroom but takes
everything else to the lockers. He changes from his street clothes to something a little more formal.
It's nothing special—just a fitted button-down and a pair of slacks—but it makes him look more
presentable. At least according to his mom.
Tucking his phone into his pocket, Izuku checks his list. He quickly writes that he has to help the
support course at the top, but he also makes sure he knows when the biggest events take place.
Then, he pats the box in his back pocket and walks out.
Helping the support students takes all of twenty minutes. Izuku ferries machines and racks from
the main building to the field on campus where the festival is to take place. Then, he gathers what
he needs for his own attraction and preps his area. He doesn't need much, but every single U.A
student is already hard at work at their own thing. Business students set up food stalls and gift
shops, Gen Ed students put the finishing touches on their projects, and the hero courses… Well, the
third years have settled for a series of fake fights, all pre-planned and with cartoonish logic. Izuku
catches one student practicing their pre-fight monologue and cracks a smile. He has to set up far
away from them, otherwise he won't get any customers.
Izuku's booth is nothing fancy. It's actually not even a booth. It's just a table under a piece of
canvas stretched across some tent poles. There's a set of ropes tied to poles that make the queue,
and a small display of prizes sits behind the main attraction: him. See, the goal of the Cultural
Festival is for the other classes to show off what they're good at. The Sports Festival is always
hero- and support course-dominated, which is why Izuku's decided to take a step back and work at
a business of his own creation. Well, partial creation. He enlisted some help from a certain friend
and went through with it. So he finishes the final details of the stand and stakes the sign into the
ground.
Arm Wrestle a Hero Student!
Is it cheating? Izuku's not sure. As a hero student, he's allowed to use his Quirk for it—just like
how the support kids can use their gadgets. But then again, who on earth would be able to beat
him? The image of All for One, snarling in anger as he takes a seat across from Izuku and takes his
hand to fight against him, crosses through his mind. He laughs a little and flies off to find his
friends.
"How's it going?" Izuku greets as he lands just short of class 2-B's Dunk a Hero attraction. Mirio
grins when he sees him and drops his drill to jog over.
"Hey, man! Got done early?"
"Yeah," Izuku says, accepting Mirio's hug. "Mine isn't fancy or anything. What about Tamaki's?"
"Oh, they're doing a stage play. It's a spoof of Beauty and the Beast."
"Would he be the beast then?" Izuku asks. "Since his Quirk would be perfect for that."
"Nah," Mirio says with a smile, "he's a really timid Gaston. Of course, he's nervous, but I told him
that feeling that way would literally make the play better and I think he's okay now. I'm still gonna
check up on him, though."
"Not a bad idea," Izuku agrees. "I'll probably give him some encouragement too. Unless you want
some time to yourselves?" He smiles slyly, making Mirio half laugh and half flush.
"You've been spending too much time with Nejire, I swear. Hey, speaking of—"
"Her birthday's tomorrow, I know," Izuku interrupts. He digs in his back pocket and pulls out the
box. "I've got her something, don't worry."
"Nice. She doesn't like parties or making a big deal of it, so I thought I'd make sure."
"I appreciate it. Um, do you know where she is right now?"
Mirio thinks for a second. "Well, class 2-A is over by the main entrance making sure their food
stands don't fall down, but she's probably getting ready for the pageant."
"Pageant?" Izuku asks. "Nejire entered the UA beauty pageant?"
"She didn't tell you?" Mirio says, surprised. Izuku shakes his head. "Well, you're in for a surprise.
Go on over and try not to melt into your shoes!"
Izuku doesn't think much about Mirio's comment. He simply flies away, over to where the biggest
stage in the entire fairground is. It's only that big because it's multipurpose. There's the pageant,
speeches, awards, and even a comedy act. But the beauty pageant is first, and so the building
behind the stage is full of people getting ready.
Izuku lands and enters, finding that it's all completely open. No walls, no windows, lots of people.
A ridiculous amount of people. Like, Izuku has to wade through an army of students to try and find
Nejire. There are girls putting on dresses, guys putting on dresses, and enough mirrors to make his
head spin. For every competitor, there are two or three assistants helping with hair and makeup. It's
all very excessive in his opinion, but Izuku keeps looking, wandering all the way to the back. When
he does find her, he smiles, only catching the back of her hair. Then, on a whim, she turns. And
Izuku freezes.
She looks great. Amazing. Perfect. Hot. Beautiful. A million adjectives flow through his mind,
none of them quite right. She waves at him, her smile lighting up the room. Izuku feels his heart
quicken, and he raises a hand to offer a wave back. When he puts his hand down, he just stands
there, staring. Nejire blinks and cocks her head. "Izuku?"
"You broke him, Nej."
"Ah! Whoops." Nejire lifts into the air, happy to use her Quirk when it's not remotely necessary.
"I'm glad you like it! It's been a pain getting it on and making sure everything's perfect."
"… Yeah," Izuku says, letting Nejire take him by the arm. He stares at her as he walks, trying to
get how she looks through his head. Because she's absolutely beautiful. But at the same time, she
feels different. Still bubbly, but more refined. Or maybe suppressed. Nejire normally bounces
everywhere and refuses to stop moving. She plays with his hands or his hair and constantly leans
on him. Now, she simply settles for resting her hand in the crook of his arm. It's not bad, just
different.
"How's your morning been?" Nejire asks.
"Fine. It's pretty great now," Izuku says without thinking, and Nejire smiles.
"I wonder why. Do you want to sit with us for a bit? There's some time to kill before we have to
line up."
"I just came in to say hi," Izuku admits, "but I can wait until the gates open."
"Alright." Nejire pecks him on the cheek and leads him over to a stool. "Just hang here for a bit.
Once we finish up, we can talk until we're out of time."
"Fine by me." Izuku sits and lets his mind relax. Or tries to. Nejire is still right there and is still
dressed in an unfairly attractive outfit, and she is his girlfriend. So he ends up staring at her. He'd
feel creepy if she didn't do the same to him sometimes, and he never feels weird when she does it.
Izuku watches as a pair of girls help fix microscopic errors in her makeup and hair, wondering how
they all have the patience for it.
Once they finish up, Nejire happily takes him over to an area with couches and chairs. She doesn't
sit, but she leans against the back of one, talking about the pageant. "Anyone can enter. Literally
anyone. But the kicker is that you have to wear a dress."
"That's… interesting," Izuku says, watching a group of mischievous-looking boys helps one of
their friends into a bright pink sundress. "Do you know why that's a thing?"
"Nah, but it's probably a sexist reason," Nejire says with a shrug. "Anyways, it's a beauty pageant
but also a showcase of your skills. So, like, you can't just walk up there dressed nicely. You have to
show off a little. Last year, I did a dance routine."
"You dance?"
"Yep. Took five years of lessons. It helps with balance and flexibility. I came in fourth, which isn't
bad. But I want first this time around, so I'm doing something different."
"And that would be…"
"Aerial acrobatics."
"Wouldn't that kind of be like dancing?"
"Yeah! That's kinda the point. I've done all of it plenty of times before, so I know I'm good at it.
No one else can really do it, either, so it'll have a uniqueness factor. I just need to look really good
and I'll have it in the bag."
"You look really good right now," Izuku says. He feels his face flush. "Not that you don't look
good all the time, because you do. It's just, now you're… not better looking. Not that you look like
you always do, but, like… I like your hair?" Izuku says weakly. Nejire giggles and snorts, bumping
her shoulder into his. Over the intercom, an announcer lets everyone know that it's time to line up.
"You're too cute," she says, pulling him to his feet and grabbing his chin with her fingers. She tilts
his head to the side and looks at his cheek. But apparently, that's not the one she wants because she
turns his head again and kisses the other one. "I love it. I also get what you mean. See you later?"
"Of course. Love you."
"I know."
Nejire leaves him a smiling, pink-faced mess as she walks off with one of her friends. Izuku sits on
the couch, taking a moment to realize that there's still another person there with him. "Hey?" he
says, greeting the tallish girl with short brown hair. She looks at him flatly, unimpressed.
"There's lipstick on your cheeks."
Izuku swears and quickly wipes it away, getting some on his sleeves. Once he thinks he's done he
looks back at her, only to see her glaring. "You made it worse. Hold still." She takes a step forward
and uses the bottle in her hand to wet a cloth. She roughly wipes it across the sides of his face,
pulling away to throw the rag over her shoulder. "I don't like you."
"Oh… kay?" Izuku says, rubbing his cheeks.
"But you make Nejire happy."
"Thanks?"
"Yeah. Bye."
Izuku blinks as the girl walks away, completely at a loss. Thinking nothing of it, he gets up and
walks over to where the spectator's entrance for the pageant is. He's got some time before his stall
opens, so there's no harm in watching.
A few people go before Nejire, but they're nothing special. Nejire, though, does amazing. She
introduces herself, talks up her achievements, and performs in the air for a few seconds. It's great,
but clearly not her full routine. She'll probably get more and more complex as the rounds go on, but
Izuku's sure she'll win. She's just that good.
Making his way back to his stall, Izuku finds that there's already a crowd. A business student is
holding them back, but as soon as they see Izuku, they start to go crazy. Izuku smiles and takes his
seat, challenging them all, insisting that he won't use his Quirk unless they use theirs. He wins the
first twenty rounds easily but lets a few little kids beat him. They walk off with some stuffed
animals, and he watches with a smile.
The day passes quickly, and Izuku decides to call it quits on his stand as the sun begins to set. He
heads for the stage, grabbing some food along the way. He arrives in time to watch the final four of
the beauty pageant, which has been broken up by other acts on stage throughout the day. He claps
politely as the contestants go, intrigued by the antics of a girl from 2-G. But he cheers for Nejire,
loud and proud. She does amazing, and he's sure she'll win. Then the voting starts.
Nejire doesn't do good. Actually, she places a respectable second, but the gap between her and first
place is large. Izuku watches as he politely accepts her trophy and walks off, knowing that her
smile is fake. He only thinks about what to do for a split second.
Izuku flies, soaring above the crowd and keeping his lightning in check. No one notices him. He
quickly finds Nejire backstage, staring at her second-place trophy. She's not alone, but the people
with her back away when they see him.
"Hey," Izuku says, softly wrapping his arms around her shoulders. The trophy clatters to the floor.
"How're you holding up?"
"Awful."
"Yeah. It was a dumb question, I know. Wanna fly?"
"Fly?"
"Like a bird."
"Is that allowed?"
"Do you care?"
"I guess not."
Izuku takes off, holding her in his arms. He gets about a hundred meters up before dropping her.
She screams and curses something foul, but easily rights herself. "What was that for?"
Izuku smiles and zips around her. "A shock to the system. You're so down right now. Wanna race?"
"Race? Where?"
"Oh, I dunno. Actually, I do. But you'll only get to know when we get there."
"That's not how races work."
"Too bad. See you 'round!"
Izuku dashes away, hearing the sparkle of Nejire's spirals in his wake. He slows, letting her catch
up a little before turning into a dive. She follows. He pulls out of the dive and heads right for U.A's
walls.
"Izuku…"
"It'll be great! Trust me!"

They soar over the stone and steel, climbing higher and higher until the festival is nothing more
than a star in the night. Nejire starts to shiver, so Izuku wraps her up in another hug. "Why?"
"'Cause I love you. Now look down." Nejire does, taking in the city lights below. "Now up." Izuku
tilts back, laying her against his chest so she can see the moon and stars.
"It all looks pretty."
"Almost as pretty as you."
Nejire snorts. "Sap. And I lost today, so…"
"I voted for you."
"So? Barely anyone else did."
"People have awful taste, you know. And, well… I think that support girl fudged the numbers."
"Really."
"Yeah. I mean, she's good with computers, and she has nothing on you."
"Tell that to the entire school."
"I would."
"Hm?"
"I'd tell everyone. I'm not ashamed. I wouldn't be lying. You're better than her in every way. Her
and everyone else in the pageant. I'd tell the whole world if you asked."
"You're so corny."
"Is it working?"
"I dunno. Keep going?"
Izuku chuckles and starts to fly, letting Nejire pull her own weight but still holding her hand. "Your
smile's more beautiful than the moon."
"That takes the cake for the dorkiest thing you've ever said."
"For now. I think I could top it."
"How?"
"By talking to you. Seriously, I… I know that you wanted first place and to be liked by the whole
student body. And I know that you feel crummy for not getting there. But I'm still here. I still love
you. I know it won't change the outcome or how you feel about it, but I wanted to remind you. Y-
you're my pageant queen."
"Oh my god," Nejire giggles, spiraling around him. The gold lights up the night, warming his skin.
"You're so awful."
"Yeah," Izuku admits, pulling her close again. "But it worked."
Nejire nods seriously, cracking a smile. "Can't argue with that logic."
"Also, happy birthday."
"A little early. It's tomorrow."
"I know. But I figured that you'd want this early." Izuku reaches into his back pocket and pulls out
the box. It's light in his hand, roughly the size of a CD case. Nejire takes it and opens it up, and a
light shines into the night sky.
"Is that…"
"A necklace like the one you gave me? Yeah. Mine… it's helped me a lot. So I figured…"
"I love it." Nejire pulls the necklace out, slipping the box into one of Izuku's pockets and admiring
the spiral charm. She puts it on, smiling as it rests on her chest. Izuku pulls his out from under his
collar. They embrace, feeling each other's warmth in the cold night sky as though forever.
Chapter End Notes
Cheesy and over the top? Probably, but I wanted a cute scene without an ominous
ending so there. Cheers!
Join my discord!
Two Steps Forward
Chapter Notes
See the end of the chapter for notes
A pen scratches against a sheet of paper, slow and methodical. A clock ticks on the wall. It's in the
late afternoon, bordering on evening. A folder sits on a desk, open for the world to see. Beside it,
an empty pen rests atop a stack of blank papers; a reminder to take a break when the next sheet is
done.
Izuku scribbles along, making sure his characters are small and even. There's only so much space,
but it's also important for everything to be legible. The printed seal in the top right corner denotes
the paper as an official incident report, one his boss and a bunch of other people on the case will no
doubt read. Because even if it details a brief exchange between criminal and hero, it could be vital
later.
Not to mention that this is his first real case in months. It's not his fault that he feels the need to
perform perfectly. Well, it sort of is, but it's a rational feeling. If he does well, Endeavor will let
him in on other cases, maybe a few at once like the other sidekicks at the agency. It would be a
good experience for when he's on his own. The date for which draws closer every day. Which is
how time works, he knows, but it's still a weight in the back of his mind.
Izuku buries himself in his papers, writing at his desk as soft music plays in the background. The
window to his right has the curtains drawn up, and he can see that it's snowing when he turns. Out
in the kitchen, his mother cooks. Nothing complicated since she has work, but she'd never leave
him on a Saturday without something in the fridge. He can smell eggs and something sweet.
"Hot cocoa?"
"Who let you back in?" Izuku asks, making a joke of it as he pushes away from his desk and takes
the mug from Nejire.
"Your mother," she says, sitting on the edge of his bed and taking a sip from her own mug. "She's
really sweet. Didn't even bat an eye when I flew up to the window. Are you taking the day off?"
"Sorta," Izuku says, wheeling his chair out of the way so Nejire can see his papers. "No patrolling,
but I hit the weights this morning and got some paperwork. I'll do some Quirk stuff later, I think. I
mean, UA's right there, now." Izuku points out the window, looking at the skyscrapers of the
school's fake cities.
"That is convenient," Nejire agrees, standing up and walking over. She sets her mug down beside
his and takes a look at his papers. "I might have to come over more often. Anyway, what's the case
about?"
"That bombing in Tokyo," Izuku explains, "we think that there might be a group trying to do
something like it again. I'm just writing up a report on a suspect encounter. Nothing special, but I
managed to get some files already being used by investigators."
"Huh." Nejire leans away from his work and bends down to kiss his cheek. "Well good luck with
that. I'm gonna take a nap."
Izuku looks at his alarm clock. "It's ten in the morning?"

"And I was up until three brushing my hair and wiping makeup off," Nejire counters. She chugs the
rest of her hot cocoa and sets the mug on Izuku's nightstand before throwing back the covers. "So
I'm gonna sleep."
"You couldn't do that at home?"
"Nope!"
"Fair enough."
Izuku returns to his paperwork, more than half done. He turns down the music a little, and the
sound of pen scratching on paper fills the room. Nejire drifts off behind him, breathing evenly. He
steals a look and finds that she's cocooned herself in his sheets. He's not one bit surprised that she's
a blanket hog.
Closing the folder and standing, Izuku finishes his hot cocoa. He puts the folder in one of his desk
draws, sealing it shut with a piece of tape. Close to U.A or not, there's still some security risks, and
those files are important. Izuku steps out of his room, gently closing the door behind him. He
walks down the hall, admiring the pictures hung on the walls. There's more than there was back at
their old apartment. Most are of him and his mom, but the closer he gets to the kitchen, the more
there are of other people. All Might is in a few, smiling softly at the camera in his skinny form.
Gran is in one, and there's even two with Aizawa in them. And of course his friends are featured
prominently.
It fills him with a sense of warmth. Light as a feather, he rounds the corner and sets his mug in the
slink. His mother is already eating, reading something on her phone. Izuku grabs a plate from the
cabinet and heads for the stove, scooping some breakfast onto it before sitting down. "Morning."
"Morning, sweetie. How's the paperwork going?"
"It's done," Izuku says, shoveling a bite of eggs into his mouth. "I'll turn it in tomorrow, I think.
Depends on if my request for work gets approved."
"You're already nearing your cap, right?" his mom asks. "You can only be on active duty so much
at your age."
"Yeah," Izuku says, "that's the issue. I've already logged so many hours of active patrol that I can't
continue at my pace for much longer. Endeavor said he'd try to spread my time out more, so I
might not get it."
"Well, if you don't it's fine." His mother shuts her phone off and slips it into her pocket. "You're
young, you don't need to be working full time. We have a good house, you're in a good school,
there's money in the bank. Take it easy for a little while."
Izuku smiles. "I know, but I want to keep going. It's just in my blood, you know? I'm not tired, I'm
not unhealthy. I can patrol everyday if I need to. But I can't."
"It's alright, Izuku," his mother says, "the next month will roll over and it'll reset. You'll spread the
time out better so you're not stuck like this at the end of it. Just keep going."
"Yeah," Izuku says, looking out the kitchen window at the city street. "I know."
Izuku leaves the house in the afternoon after a morning of chores. Nejire woke up about halfway
through and tried to help, but his mother forced her onto the couch and handed her a snack. Izuku,
of course, said nothing about it and carried on vacuuming before heading out the door to U.A with
a training plan in his pocket.
The walk takes all of five minutes, and Izuku makes it through the gates without trouble. The
campus is mostly empty with just a few students there to work on projects. Izuku walks right past
all the classroom buildings and heads for a different set of buildings entirely. The bunker rooms.
Three meters by ten, they jut out of the ground behind U.A's office buildings like massive molars.
Each and every one of them is made of reinforced material rated to withstand massive amounts of
force. Like the basement at Endeavor's agency, they were put in place for people to train their
destructive Quirks. Thirteen was one such student, and they were the one to tell Izuku about them,
something he's thankful for. Swiping his student ID, Izuku pushes the heavy door open and steps
inside. The room glows, and the door shuts behind him. Ditching his coat, Izuku gets to work.
He warms up first, because the last thing he wants is to pull a muscle. After he's finished
stretching, Izuku activates his Quirk and does a few jumps. With every leap he gets higher, making
sure he's in full control and to keep the landing soft. It's to get his bearings, mostly. It's like how
football players pass back and forth before running drills, or how a musician might noodle on their
instrument before sitting down to practice seriously. He may already be used to One for All, but
after even ten hours of not using it, he needs to get the feeling back into his head.
Once he's done, Izuku sits on the floor with his legs crossed, getting as comfortable as possible on
the stone floor. He closes his eyes and stokes the fire, feeling it roar. Coaxing it down, he smothers
it until it's but an ember. It's his lowest possible percent, half of a half of a half. So small that it's
like trying to hold on to a single grain of sand if the sand was constantly trying to move and grow.
But Izuku's done this several times, and he knows how to keep hold. He sits there, relaxed in the
body but focused in the mind. He holds it until he feels himself start to fatigue, and then he lets it
go.
One for All automatically soars, swelling with power. Having expected this, Izuku corrals it back
down to one percent. He repeats the process, over and over again. When he reaches one hundred
percent, he works back down. It's boring and sucks up his concentration, but he's gotten used to it
by now. It's not painful and the work definitely pays off, seeing as he can now switch percents
instantly without having to worry about how much power he's using. Using One for All is almost
an exact science, now, and he needs to treat it as such. So he works through the rest of his
exercises, making sure he's completing every single one to the letter.
And then he moves on to phase two, attacking. He goes up by fives to his limit, punching and
kicking with different levels of effort. He has to move to a different bunker several times because
he brings them down so easily. But he keeps going, refusing to cut corners.
By the time he's all done, it's three in the afternoon. Izuku digs himself out of the rubble, making
sure he has all of his things. He didn't bring much—just his wallet, phone, and the paper with his
workout on it—but when he picks up his phone, he feels it vibrate.
From: Toshinori
Come to Nedzu's office. Nothing bad, we just need you for something.
Izuku quickly sends a text back to let them know he's coming and kicks off the ground. He always
feels more in focus after completing a workout, and today is no exception. He flies directly to the
window of Nedzu's office, stirring up winds that make the branches of nearby trees rustle. He stops
right in front of the widow with barely a thought, watching his reflection as a gust ruffles his hair.
All Might appears on the other side of the glass. He waves and quickly opens the latch, letting
Izuku in.
"Good afternoon," All Might greets, gesturing for Izuku to sit down. "How was your training?"
"Pretty good," Izuku says, sitting and grabbing a glass of water on the coffee table. "I got through it
faster than normal. I kinda feel sorry for Cementoss, though." He finishes his water and sets the
glass down, looking around the room. "Afternoon, Aizawa, Sir."
Aizawa grunts from his seat on an armchair and Nedzu raises his mug of tea in a salute. "Good
afternoon. Do you know why we called you here?"
"Not a clue," Izuku answers honestly.
"Fair enough, it was on short notice." Nedzu sets his tea down and perches himself on the edge of
his desk. "Anyways, would you like to break the news, Yagi?"
"What news?" Izuku asks, turning his head to look at the man beside him.
"My application to be a teacher at UA has been accepted," All Might says with a smile. "I'll begin
at the start of your second year."
"That's great!" Izuku exclaims. "What will you be teaching?"
"Not heroics," Nedzu says, burying Izuku's first guess in the dirt. "Aizawa and Kan will have that
covered. But there's something else we would like to try out. Something Yagi would be perfect
for."
"And what might that be?"
"Fitness," All Might says proudly. "I made my own training plans back in the day, and I make
yours right now. I've been studying for a while, too. About sports medicine and the human body.
UA plans on having me take over their physical education, at least for the hero course."
"That's great," Izuku says, "I'm sure you'll be amazing at it. But why the sudden switch? There's
multiple weight rooms on campus, and even teachers to consult for plans and stuff. Why make it a
new class?"
"On paper, it's to whip the first years into shape," Aizawa says, looking flatly at Izuku. "We had an
awful batch this year. The board doesn't want that to happen again, so they're going to change up
the program, which is where Yagi comes in."
"I may or may not have a letter of recommendation from All Might himself," All Might says,
smiling cheekily. "They practically jumped on me, thinking that I'm a miracle worker. I'm not, but
I'll definitely try to be!"
"Yes, yes, all well and good," Nedzu cuts in. "Midoriya, do you know about athletes before
Quirks?"
"They trained a lot," Izuku says, "like heroes do now, but with their bodies."
"Correct," Nedzu agrees, "but there's more. Oftentimes they'd be working just as hard as you do.
Maybe even harder."
"Really?" Izuku asks, a little skeptical. "I mean. I have weights and a Quirk."
"Ah, but they had weights and a sport," Nedzu says. "There's reports from back then that describe
the routines of student athletes. An hour of strength training in the morning, classes all day,
practice in the afternoon that often lasted four hours or more. Sound familiar?"
"Sorta," Izuku agrees. "But I also have patrols."
"Some had jobs." Nedzu shrugs. "I'm not trying to demean you or the athletes of the past, I'm
simply saying that implementing mandatory strength and conditioning training is possible and will
do some good."
"Yeah, I guess making everything but the basic PE and heroics classes optional isn't the best way to
go about it."
"Quite. So Yagi will draw up plans for the incoming first years and I will get the third years to take
their fitness more seriously." Nedzu sips his tea and looks at Aizawa. "Will you tell him or I?"
"I'll do it." Aizawa straightens himself up and looks Izuku dead in the eye. "You've outgrown UA."
Izuku snorts. "No I haven't."
"Really?" Aizawa asks. "Then why did you break some of our strongest structures just now? As a
warm up."
"That's not skill, that's power," Izuku insists. "There's still a lot I can learn here. I mean, I've only
just started my screaming practice! Not to mention working on Danger Sense, which I need UA
for."
"True," Nedzu concedes, "but we're talking about the teachers. Though the facilities are also under
you, our staff cannot accommodate you. Truly, aside from screaming, what new things have you
learned here?" Izuku opens his mouth to reply. All Might cuts him off.
"Not small things, kid. Learning a flip from Midnight or a new rescue technique from Thirteen
don't really count. Not when you went into an active terrorist attack just this week."
"Nothing small?" Izuku asks himself. "I… I guess my use of Danger Sense has gotten a lot better."
"And that is all," Nedzu says. "Everything else has come from Endeavor, hasn't it?"
"It has."
"Yes. You need more of what he's doing," Nedzu says. "UA is great for working on new moves
and learning to deal with the media, but for combat and everyday heroics? We don't have much to
teach you anymore."
"So what?" Izuku asks. "Am I going to drop classes or something?"
"Not quite," All Might says, patting Izuku's shoulder. "You'll be offered more patrol time. We put
in a request and an exception was made for you."
"I have a feeling that that's not all."
"We're making you a TA."
"Huh?" Izuku asks, stunned. "A TA ?"
"Yes."
"I'm sixteen."
"And you're already more experienced than some seasoned pros," All Might says. "Really, you are.
Those petitions going around trying to get you to rank exist for a reason. In the past few weeks with
Endeavor, you've saved perhaps hundreds of lives. You're on track to end the year with a higher
save count than some heroes in the top 500."
"And the board and hero commission are letting you do this?" Izuku asks, trying to come to grips
with the situation. "I… I'm so young. I want more patrol hours, sure, but to actually get them and
be put on TA duty?"
"The school board wants to make more of you." Izuku turns to look at Aizawa, at a loss.
"What?"
"The way they see it," the man continues, "they've got the future number one sitting in their lap
right now, waiting to burst onto the scene. Your talent makes the school look good, and they know
you're special. You're the board's golden boy, even if you've never seen a member. You're
marketable, powerful, and ooze potential. They're fully aware that they can't contain you for longer
—like All Might before you, now you're so strong that the only solid way for you to grow is real
world experience. They can't offer that in a school setting, but they want you to obviously be
affiliated with UA. So you get more patrol hours but have to be a TA. For them, it's perfect. And if
some of your greatness wears off, well…" Aizawa trials off like he didn't just leave Izuku frozen in
thought.
"They didn't do this for me or the next batch of first years, did they?"
"You don't have to agree," All Might soothes.
"No, no, I'll do it," Izuku says, laughing a little. "It'll help me, too. I guess you're right about me
outgrowing UA. And I'd love helping out with classes, but… politics."
"Not politics," Nedzu says, "but rather business. There's not much difference between the two, but
it's important to remember when talking directly to politicians and business people."
"Right," Izuku nods, tapping his thighs with his fingers. "So. TA stuff. What am I…"
"I've got a plan!" All Might declares, reaching into his suit and pulling out a thick binder. He hands
it to Izuku, who hefts it.
"It's a little much, don't you think?"
"Nonsense, every detail is important!" All Might opens the binder, setting the thing down in
Izuku's lap. He points to the first page. It's the start of a ten page index. "Your duties are on page
two hundred-fifty-seven. "
Izuku looks at the tiny print helplessly. "I don't even know how to teach…"
But he knows how to study. Which is what he does. Or at least it's what he planned on doing. The
first step he takes into his new home kinda chucks the plan out the window. Because Nejire and
his mom sit on the couch, watching a movie with tea. That wouldn't normally be a problem. He
could just study and watch at the same time or read the huge binder alone in his room. But the
blanket around Nejire's shoulders opens, and, well…
"Sit with us!"
Izuku complies, setting the binder down on the coffee table with a thump before plopping down
beside Nejire. The blanket is immediately wrapped around him, the sudden warmth a bit of a
shock, though not an unwelcome one.
"You stink," Nejire says, causing his mother to laugh.
"I was sorta training for a few hours," Izuku says, wrapping one arm around Nejire's back. "And
then I crawled out of a pile of rubble."
"I thought you were a little dusty," his mom chimes in. "Do you need to shower?"
"In a bit."
"Cool," Nejire says, "what's that?"
"The binder?" Nejire nods. "They're gonna make me a TA at school next year," Izuku explains, "it's
all lesson plans and stuff."
Nejire furrows her brow. "TA stuff?"
"Yeah, I…" Izuku rubs the back of his neck bashfully. "I kinda grew out of UA. Sorta. There's not
much left I can do there, really. I'm just too strong. So they're letting me patrol more and take up
some reaching duties."
"That sounds awfully time consuming," his mother says cautiously.
Izuku blinks, looking at her, the binder, and then Nejire from the corner of his eye. She's not
obviously sad, but it's clear she's reserving judgement for something. "Ah. Well, I'll still have
downtime. I think. Even I know I can't work fifteen hours a day. And even if I get really busy,
there'll be downtime between classes for stuff."
"Stuff," his mother says, a little skeptical. "And this stuff is?"
Izuku shrugs. "I dunno, relaxing. Talking with friends if I had to guess. Maybe a quick spar here or
there."
"So long as you actually rest I don't care what you do," his mother says, resting a hand on his
shoulder. "Don't overwork yourself. It runs in the family."
"Yeah," Izuku agrees, pulling Nejire a little closer. Her head rests on his shoulder, and her hair
tickles his ear. It's nice. "I understand."
[x]
Izuku doesn't understand. Not in the slightest. "So we're going to stand here. Doing nothing. For
hours?"
"You're oversimplifying the situation," Endeavor grumbles. The wind pushes against his beard,
making the flames swell and dance. "We must be ready, and have constant vigilance. There's yet to
be another attack. The villains may be trying to wait it out. Do you know the story of the Moonday
Raid?"
"No," Izuku says, torn between looking at the city below and the man to his right. There's so much
he could be doing right now, and here he is. Standing on the roof of a highrise like a statue waiting
to be pooped on.
"Long ago there were two armies," Endeavor begins. "Both were of equal size and skill, but one
was in a much better position than the other, dug in on top of a hill. But due to the circumstances of
the war, the other army had to eliminate the soldiers on the hill or risk losing everything. Both
sides knew this. The army on the hill dug in even deeper, waiting every dawn for an attack.
Meanwhile, the army camped below the hill studied them. They found that the soldiers were
always on high alert right at dawn, but at noon, they'd start to eat and rest.
"Dawn is an auspicious moment. Many great battles began right as the sun rose. But it's a pattern
that every human being knows, and so they prepare for it. So one day the army at the foot of the
hill waited for their enemies to finish eating. Once most of the soldiers were sluggish and full, they
attacked. Even though the soldiers on the hill saw them coming from kilometers away, they were
too slow to react, and the attacking army won."
"Alright," Izuku says, getting the point, "but it's been five days. Wouldn't right now be the ideal
time for another attack? Right as we're done recovering from the last one? It would be the best way
to capitalize on the chaos and instil fear. We're just at dawn right now, noon would be a week out."
"It could be a double bluff," Endeavor explains. "You could play a game of cat and mouse all day
with mind games, trapped in a loop. So we wait it out, ready for everything."
"I still think we could be on patrol," Izuku says. "We have access to the HN. There's no reason
why we can't wait until we have a spike and head to one of the suspected targets."
"And what if we get caught in a fight?" Endeavor asks. "We're strong, but a monster could attack
again. We can't let ourselves get distracted, even for one second. There are exceptions, but unless
the city is about to be leveled, we stay. Here."
"Yes sir," Izuku grumbles, toying with his sash. The grey morning light is frigid and dark, and the
sun barely pokes through the clouds. There's a little snow left over, just a faint dusting on the tops
of some buildings. It only makes the ground that more inviting, in Izuku's opinion. People look like
specs from up on the roof, becoming insignificant ants instead of the unique and priceless people
they really are. He doesn't like it. Not one bit.
"Three robberies," Endeavor says suddenly. Izuku tenses. "All of them are in one sector. Before the
last attack there were ten at once."
"Can I—"
"By the time you get there, the incidents would already be resolved," Endeavor interrupts. "The
heroes in Tokyo or good. If they weren't, they'd be dead. Trust them to do their jobs so that we can
do ours."
Izuku sits on the edge of the building, waiting. His mind starts to wander off, but he reigns it back
in. The last thing he wants is to be caught slacking off on an important assignment, even if he
thinks the assignment isn't all that important. Well, it is important, it's just inefficient. How many
lives could he have saved if he were let on patrol instead of being stuck waiting? He'll never know,
but if the answer is more than one, he won't be happy.
Hours pass. Nothing happens. Izuku begins to fool around with his Quirk a little, just to keep warm.
He turns it off and on a few times, feeling the power. The potential for him to be doing this every
day until there's another attack worms it's way into his head. It's not a fun thought. Wasting more
time sitting, doing nothing when there's villains to fight and lives to save doesn't go over well with
him.
"Ten reported, a few kilometers south of here." Endeavor's voice rings in Izuku's ears, harsh and
low.
"Do we take off?"
"Not yet. The robberies are all in the south, meaning the concentration of heroes in the north is
lacking."
"Because the heroes are responding to incidents that the HN says are still ongoing even if they're
probably already resolved."
"Correct. The HN is known about. No one can hack into it, but the program isn't exactly hidden.
The villains will know about it, so they'll wait long enough to draw some heroes away."
"Where will the attack be?" Izuku asks. "All the way in the north of the city?"
Endeavor shakes his head. "The pings on the HN make an area about fifty or so kilometers large to
draw heroes from. It'll be inside of that range but far from the robberies."
Izuku looks out at the skyline, picking out the individual buildings. "They hit an office building last
time, right beside a tourist attraction."
"The Heroes' Monument," Endeavor says, flames roaring to life beneath him. "It's in the area and
surrounded by corporate office buildings. Fly, boy. I'll meet you there."
The Heroes' Monument is massive. Thirty meters tall, it towers over the plaza below. Izuku could
probably rattle off a few pages of word vomit about the history and symbolism of the thing, but
they would be a waste of his time. So he perches on the top of the statue, crouching in the bronze
hair of the man standing tall in the middle of Tokyo. He scans the buildings around him, trying to
find something even a little bit suspicious. He turns Danger Sense on, feeling out a few meters but
mostly keeping it on himself. On the horizon, Endeavor gradually flies closer.
Deciding that he can't stick to one spot, Izuku leaps and pulls himself to the top of a building with
Blackwhip. He lands, softly crouching down. There's nothing but vents and pipes. He moves on to
the next building. Still nothing. He works his way around the statue, looking for something,
anything that could be incriminating. But then, he realizes. You don't try to bring a building down
by blowing up the top.
Izuku dashes down to street level, ducking into a side street. Danger Sense flares. No attackers, but
rather a looming threat, like a trap. Or a bomb. Izuku combs through the street, turning up the
power of Danger Sense to try and find the threat. Right as he walks by a dumpster, he feels it. A
pain in the back of his skull. Turning the intensity down, Izuku dives into the trash. He pulls out a
box, easily a hundred kilos and full of something. It doesn't take a genius to realize what's inside.
Izuku takes to the air, unsure of what to do. There's still a solid minute before it goes off, and
there's probably more. Landing on a vacant roof, he sets the box down and hits his earpiece. "I
found a box."
"Explosives?"
Izuku nudges the cardboard open. "Yeah. Lots of them. There's no visible timer, but there are
wires."
"Don't touch them. How big is the box?"
"A meter square."

"There has to be more around the building. Find them, I have your location. Leave the explosives
on the roof of the building. It will be evacuated."
"Understood."
Izuku dashes back down, pushing Danger Sense up to as much as he can. He feels the threat of the
building's collapse almost as if it's happening right this very second. He quickly finds seven more
boxes, dropping them off at the roof a few at a time. On his last trip, he finds Endeavor, casually
standing next to the boxes like they aren't about to explode.
"How long are your whips?"
"It depends on the weight of what I'm carrying, the thickness, the elasticity, how tired I am—"
"Can you hold them far enough away to avoid having your face blown off?"
Izuku looks at the boxes. Eight, each weighing a hundred kilos. It's almost child's play. "Yes."
"There's an airport nearby," Endeavor warns, "so don't go high enough to knock the planes off
course. Spread the explosives out and dive the second you feel them go off."
Izuku takes off without another word, feeling the imminent threat before he even leaves the roof.
He has the benefit of knowing when they'll go off, so Izuku has a little wiggle room. Not much,
just ten seconds, but it's enough for him to plan everything a little bit better.
Transferring the boxes to whips coming from his back, Izuku turns to face the ground. He pushes
with all his might, covering his ears. His internal timer hits zero, and a boom rips through the sky.
Izuku dives, using the blast from the explosion to kick start his flight. The heat is intense enough to
be felt through the warmth of One for All, and the noise makes his ears start to ring. But he lands
on the building he took off from in front of Endeavor, who barely regards him.
"All the robberies have been stopped. There are already reports of villains being disgruntled with
their information brokers." Endeavor begins to walk to the edge of the building, clearing preparing
to jump off. Izuku, still riding an adrenaline high, looks at him like he's crazy.
"We're not going to talk about those massive bombs?"
Endeavor stops and looks over his shoulder. "There are no casualties. The bombs will be tracked
by the police. We, however, have more important things to do."
"Like what?" Izuku asks, finding it impossible to think of anything more pressing than explosives.
Endeavor stares at Izuku like he's a child. He says just two words, "Security footage."
Chapter End Notes
There's not much left to do before the next school really. Really. The first day is going
to be chapter 70 or 71, depending on how much I pad out the main events. Either way,
the chapters might be kinda short for a while. I have to spread out the events just a
little, but each chapter will have something important in it. The chapters might also get
put out faster, since they won't be so long or dense. I dunno, it's hard to say. I hope you
enjoyed, cheers!
Join my discord!
Stutter Step
Chapter Notes
Under normal circumstances, waltzing into an office building owned by one of the biggest
corporations in Japan and demanding to see their security camera footage would be met with an
escort out of the building. But there's are different when you're the number two hero and the kid
who just saved the place from blowing up, and a nervous looking secretary leads them to the
basement, unlocking doors and bowing every time they hold them open for Izuku and Endeavor.
"Th-the feed is usually stored in our servers below the building, I can have it pulled if you need."
"Can the console rewind?" Endeavor asks, walking past the secretary and staring at a wall covered
in monitors.
"Only for a day or so."
"Very well," Endeavor says, turning to the security. "That might be all we'll need. Do you know
how to operate it?"
"N-no."
"Deku."
Izuku looks away from the live feed and at his teacher. "Sir?"
Endeavor gestures to the control panel. "Work this thing."
Izuku blinks. "I… I haven't ever had to do something like this?"
"You're Nedzu's personal project, are you not?"
"I think the term is student."
"Yes. Do you really expect me to believe that someone taught by him wouldn't be able figure
something this simple out?"
"I guess not," Izuku says, walking over to the panel with all the buttons and sitting down in the
chair. He wisely decides not to comment on how Endeavor should also be able to figure it out,
being the number two hero and all. But he takes off his gloves, setting them on a blank part of the
panel before looking up at the screens. There's a hundred or so, each about twelve inches by twelve
inches. But there's one bigger one right in front of him. Izuku hits a number on the keypad and then
hits enter. The screen changes to a view of the main entrance. A green six flashes in the bottom left
corner.
"What's the number for the camera by the dumpster?" Izuku asks.
Endeavor looks over the screens, hunting for a view of the outside of the building. "Seventy-nine.
All of the ones outside are in the seventies."
Izuku nods and hits the keypad again, watching the screen in front of him flash. Looking down at
the panel, he finds a set of buttons reminiscent of the controls on a CD player. He hits pause and
watches the screen freeze. Then he rewinds it, looking over the period of time from when they
were walking in.
"How old did those boxes look?" Izuku asks. "I didn't have a lot of time to take them in."
"They were damp and dirty," Endeavor says, looking at the screen over Izuku's shoulder, "but not
decomposed. They still had structure."
"They couldn't have been in there for longer than a day," Izuku decides.
"Six hours," Endeavor corrects. "The inside of that dumpster was probably wetter than usual. Snow
runoff and a lack of sun would cause more water to build up."
"Six hours," Izuku repeats as he skips through the footage, stopping on a chunk that shows a janitor
taking out the trash. "It's ten in the morning, that means the earliest it could have been done was
around four. I think they would have been planted before eight."
"Why."
"Morning rush," Izuku says, shrugging. "Employees usually show up between seven and nine,
right? If the explosives were planted before then, someone would have seen something
suspicious."
"Perhaps," Endeavor says, "but perhaps not. Janitorial shifts are different, they often work nights
and early mornings, especially if they're making trash runs. We're the explosives on top or towards
the bottom?"
"Halfway down, I think," Izuku recalls, "but the dumpster was over full."
"They were put in there closer to nine," Endeavor decides. "After the janitors here finished up their
night shifts but before the day shift cleaned out. Check the feed."
Izuku rewinds, stopping every few seconds to watch the dumpster gradually go from overfilled to
half empty. After a moment the time in the corner reads 9:07. Izuku watches closely as a person in
janitorial clothes wheels a trolley to the dumpster. The trolley is half full of boxes, and the person
visibly struggles to throw them in. Once they're done, they wheel the trolley away.
"Are there any views of the streets in front of the building or the alleys behind it?" Izuku asks,
looking up at Endeavor.
"None that show more than a few meters of space in front of the main entrance," the secretary
says. "Sorry."
"The other buildings might have one," Endeavor says, hitting pause on the console. "That dumpster
was clearly not the first bomb they planted. Look around for more, I'll contact the agency and have
them get to work on pulling more footage."
Izuku immediately starts working through the cameras, pulling a pen and a pad of paper out of his
costume and writing down the camera number and time whenever he finds another clip of a box
being planted. He quickly figures out that it's not just one person working alone. He had guessed as
much before, since the last attack was so massive in scale and planning, but he counts so less than
three different individuals setting their boxes in different locations around the building. But he
stops on one particular frame, one that is without a doubt the most important.
"Sir!"
From the other room, Endeavor barges in, shoving his cell phone into his pocket. "This better be
important, boy."
Izuku wheels away from the screen and lets the man see for himself. It's a little dark and slightly
grainy, but the important part is still there. One of the people planting the bombs had their sleeves
roll up to their mid forearm. On it a tattoo can be seen, hot pink and black. It looks like a character
of some kind, probably kanji. It's impossible to tell, not that it matters. How many people in Japan
have a pink and black tattoo on their forearm? How many of those people were in this part of
Tokyo that early in the morning? It's enough to narrow it all down.
"We need to get the footage off of this building's servers," Endeavor says, staring at the screen like
he's trying to burn the image into his mind. "There isn't a villain with two brain cells to rub together
who wouldn't realize how big of a mistake they made."
"They were probably counting on the bombs to wipe everything," Izuku says. "The last thing
people care about in a massive fire is their data. Does this company upload their footage
somewhere else?" Both he and Endeavor look to the secretary. They shrug helplessly.
"I don't know, I just run the books here."
"Either way, we must act swiftly."
"Do you think they'll be back today?"
Endeavor shakes his head. "It's too soon, and there're too many heroes lurking about. They'll
probably try to relocate instead of attacking. Depending on how tight knit their group is they might
try to abandon the one who slipped up, but there's no telling. We need every hero in the city on
alert for a tattoo like that."
"They probably have some form of private transport," Izuku says, reaching for his gloves and
putting them back on. "Unless they used a Quirk to get there. There's no way anyone could've
smuggled that many bombs of that size on a train or bus. And whatever they use to get around, it
has to be big. A van, maybe, or a pickup. Maybe they have more than one vehicle."
"I'll have the national ID registry scanned," Endeavor says, turning to walk out of the room. Izuku
gets up and follows, making the secretary go in front of him. The last thing he wants to risk is half
their evidence. "Citizens or residents with vehicles are documented. We can narrow it down further
to those in Tokyo and with backgrounds in electronics and explosives."
"What can we do right now?" Izuku asks, casting a glance back at the security room to make sure
it's still locked up.
"Wait," Endeavor says, marching into the main lobby and gaining the attention of all the heroes in
the room. "The group won't try to take any risks for a while, giving us time to regroup. Let the dust
settle and then prepare to go hunting." Endeavor continues to walk ahead, leaving Izuku behind as
he orders his sidekicks to lock down the entire building. Izuku looks around, finds that there's not
much for him to do, and decides to walk out.
Truthfully, he should ask Endeavor for orders, but the man is already busy inside the building.
Izuku watches as he speaks to a handful of sidekicks, bringing them up to speed and telling them
what to do. Izuku turns away and looks out at the streets before him. They're dead and empty,
along with the sidewalks. Even during work hours there should be a little bit of traffic, but the
roads have been blocked off for a half kilometer around the building. Izuku wonders if the villains
have already started to plan or if they had a plan ready if things got wrong. He knows he'd plan
ahead for something like this. Or at least prepare himself. But there's no real way to know, and
Izuku is left to wonder about the person with the pink tattoo and what they want to get out of all of
that destruction.
[x]
Izuku can't exactly ignore the draw to Tokyo. Normally he'd be content to study or hang out near
UA or in Musutafu, but there's a pull, now, one he can't avoid. So, out of pure curiosity and desire
to shake things up a little, he packs a bag and gets on a train. He knows he's kidding himself. He
knows exactly why he's going to the city. He's self aware enough to realize that he's basically
looking for trouble while off duty. Which is a bad thing, according to everyone he's ever met, but if
he doesn't do something, he'll go mad sitting in his room. It's an easy choice.
Getting out of his car, Izuku pulls his scarf up higher. It's the weekend now. The Saturday morning
buzz does little to pull his mind away from the case, but it's nice to see people living their lives. All
Might's break hasn't quite gotten to the country's psyche yet, and considering that the man is going
under the knife in a few days, Izuku finds it to be a good thing.
It's a little chilly, so Izuku starts to look around. He knows there's a library nearby, but he feels that
it might be a little too crowded. Then again, wouldn't a crowded place be the perfect spot to hide
in? He thinks so. It's better to blend in with a crowd then stay tucked away alone in a corner. So
Izuku takes a right and heads for the library, continuing to scan the street as he does. Nothing
suspicious happens, probably because it's midmorning on a Saturday. Like any other line of work,
there's dead periods of time in heroics. Flashy crime happens right when people get off work, more
appalling things occur in the dead of night, and robberies happen at around noon. No criminal
wants to get up at five am to rob a bank, and so the streets are safe. For the most part, anyway.
Climbing the steps of the library, Izuku grasps the straps of his backpack. The doors slide open
automatically, and he takes a look at the inside. It's large and open, with cool colors and bright
lights. Despite the warmth, he gets a chill. Cautiously, he activates Danger Sense. Nothing.
Shrugging the sensation off, he walks further inside, heading for the rows of tables. He picks one
towards the back, looking out towards the entrance. It's a single seat table with a lamp and a clock
built into it. Izuku sits down, pulls his scarf down, flicks his hood up, and pulls out his binder.
The thing is still as daunting as it was when he first got it. Weighing a solid ten kilos, he has to set
it down gently or else startle the entire room. He's already been through it, marking off important
pages with sticky notes and writing in the margins. All Might had spared no detail on it, and while
there isn't a rigged class schedule, there are lesson plans, goals, demonstrations, and messages to
teach. Twenty pounds of them.
Izuku opens the binder up to the start of the section detailing his duties. Having read the first few
pages already, he starts to thumb through until he hits where he left off. It's basically a list of
exercises he's supposed to demonstrate in the first month, which he's noticed to be his main duty.
All Might won't exactly be able to show the first years how to do a proper squat, but Izuku can.
And he can also offer a more approachable ear, being so close in age to the next grade of students.
Because apparently he's also partly in charge of making sure the first years are alright. Weight
training isn't the only thing U.A is taking from his life, Izuku finds. The board wants to make sure
none of their students have to take a month break due to mental health problems.
It… it doesn't make him happy, per se. He's glad that the school is taking efforts to check in on
their students and make them the best heroes they can possibly be. But he's keenly aware that they
want another him. A Deku 2.0, really. He won't be attending U.A forever, and no one can predict
what will happen once he graduates. He could die, as unlikely as it seems. So they're trying to
make backup plans. It's greedy, unsettling, and not at all honest. But it makes better heroes, and
therefore a safer world. The bitter taste in his mouth can be ignored for now.
He continues to read for a little while, letting the time pass by. His mind is never fully focused,
though. He can't help it. He just can't stop thinking about what those villains could be planning at
the moment. But he keeps going, trying to get the information down for both his sake and the sake
of All Might's lesson plans.
After an hour, Izuku closes the book. He sets his backpack up on the table and slips the binder into
it. He deliberates for a moment. It wouldn't be wise to lense his bag there, full of private
information. But the library is empty, the only people in the open study area being older men and
women quietly looking through their own texts. Izuku decides to leave it there, putting it on a chair.
He'll only be gone for a few minutes.
The bathrooms are clearly marked and he finds them within no time. Izuku heads in, relieves
himself, and starts to wash his hands. The water is cold, so he waits a little while for it to heat up.
A toilet flushes to his left. He ignores it, splashing his hand under the water, feeling it gradually
warm. A man walks out of the stall and takes the sink on the opposite end of the mirror. With the
water finally warm enough, Izuku gets some soap from the dispenser. He scrubs, casually looking
over as he does. The man is young, early twenties if he had to guess. He's dressed raggedly. Ripped
and stained jeans, a threadbare jacket, muddy boots, and a dull, wool hat.
It's not surprising to see someone like that here. Libraries are warm and welcoming, and Izuku
knows this one has a free coffee machine. It's something free to do on a cold day, or a place to
warm up if you don't have a home. Izuku considers offering them some help for a moment. Then
they make eye contact. The man freezes, caught like a deer in headlights. Izuku feels Danger Sense
tinge for just a moment. It fades, and the man returns to washing his hands, adding a new vigor to
it. Strangely, he pulls down his sleeves. But Izuku sees it. A flash of pink on the left forearm.
Calmly, Izuku shuts off the faucet. The paper towels are behind him, and he awkwardly backs up
into the wall. He doesn't want to expose his back, not when he can feel that the man will fight if he
thinks he's cornered. But the base instinct for most people is flight, not fight. So the man hurries up
his washing, drying his hands off faster than Izuku before rushing out the bathroom door. Izuku, on
the other hand, slowly reaches for his pocket and grabs his phone. He hits one of his contacts and
outs the device up to his ear.
The man recognized him without his hood up. Izuku was on the news the day of the attack, so it's
not surprising. But if he plays his cards right, he can catch them. Jogging back to his bag, Izuku
takes off his hoodie and pulls out a winter coat. He takes a dirty medical mask he saves for train
rides during flu season and slips it on. He curses his hair and his phone that's still ringing. Doesn't
Endeavor have time for his only work study student?
Finally, right as Izuku zips up his coat and slings his backpack over his shoulder, the Endeavor
picks up. "Boy—"
"I found one," Izuku says into the mic. He speaks low and soft, ensuring that the man will have a
harder time knowing if he's on his tail. "Japanese male, late teens or early twenties. Matching
tattoo, wearing worn out clothing."
"Where are you?" Endeavor asks, tone shifting from annoyed to invested. "You better not have
been activity searching or there'll be hell to pay."
"The Downtown Tokyo Public Library," Izuku says, hurrying to the exit furthest from the
bathroom. If he were a criminal on the run, he'd try to lose his pursuer inside first. "I saw him in
the bathroom. I lost him, but I changed clothes. I'm confident that I can tail him."
"Do you even know where he is right now?"
"No," Izuku admits, walking out the back door and pausing at the top of the steps. He scans the
area, spotting a dark figure slipping onto a small side street. "But I have a good idea."
"You have my permission to arrest them," Endeavor says as Izuku rushes down the stairs. "Are you
certain that the tattoo matched the one in the video?"
"Absolutely," Izuku says, "pink and black, shaped like a character, and on the left forearm. His
reaction to me also gave it away. He was visibly nervous and got out of the bathroom as fast as
possible."
"Very well. Hang up and share your location on the HN. I'll send backup. Remember—"
"Go right for the capture, no fancy stuff," Izuku says, weaving through a crowd of people. "I know.
Deku out."
Izuku smiles to himself as he follows the man through the winding side streets. Deku out. What is
he, some kind of secret agent? It's a little funny, but he can't let it get to his focus. The man in front
of him is constantly looking over his shoulder. One slip up, and Izuku could make him panic even
more, putting the civilians at risk. So Izuku keeps close but not too close, ready to capture him with
Blackwhip if he needs to. He'd prefer to do it in an alley or a less crowded area, just in case the
man's Quirks goes off. Or, and it would be a much better option, he could take the man into the
air.
Izuku considers it for a moment before putting it in action. Thinking in the third dimension is tricky
to do when you've been traveling on foot for so long, and even Izuku isn't immune to forgetting
about it. But the sky is always there, and he has a pair of wings to call his own. So Izuku waits until
the crowds of people thin out. Then, when the man stutters in his stride for just a moment, Izuku
pounces.
Blackwhip binds him head to toe, leaving his face uncovered. Izuku pulls off his hood and kicks
off the ground. "You're under arrest for recent terrorist attacks in Tokyo," he says, making sure his
voice carries down to the civilians. The man thrashes in his bindings, quickly giving up. Izuku
doesn't let his guard down. Keeping the man a few meters away, he flies over to an empty lot. He
lands and sets the man down, double checking that Endeavor knows where he is. The man glares
daggers at him, keeping silent. "Do you have anything to declare?" Izuku asks.
The man keeps his mouth shut. He relaxes in his bindings as though content with his fate. Izuku
stares at him for a moment, unsure of what to do. After a moment, he slowly starts to approach,
keeping both of his hands visible. As long as he doesn't know what the man's Quirk is, there's a
chance he could launch a sneak attack.
"Where's your ID?" Izuku asks, stopping a meter or so in front of the man. The man raises an
eyebrow, smirking a little as he refuses to answer. "Okay. I'm going to go through your pockets,
then. Any weapons?" Again there's no answer. Izuku's not exactly surprised. He unwinds a little bit
of Blackwhip, allowing the man's back pockets to be seen. He uses Blackwhip to reach inside,
retrieving a knife, wallet, and a fast food wrapper. Izuku quickly rebinds him, fumbling with the
wallet as he tries to find the ID card.
When he pulls the card out of the wallet, his eyes automatically drift to the bottom where the Quirk
name is. He glosses over the name and photo, a little eager to read the bottom line. But when he
does, he nearly drops the card out of shock. A large, red N/A sits where the Quirk should be. Izuku
knows what it means. He had the same letters there for years.
"You're Quirkless."
The man's face twists for a moment, but he goes back to smirking. Izuku doesn't know what to feel.
Pity? No. Not for a killer. Anger, maybe. Quirk or no, he has blood on his hands, how dare he get
in Izuku's head like this. But that doesn't feel right either. He knows what it's like to be Quirkless,
to be seen as nothing but a waste of space meant to be shoved into a corner and ignored. He wasn't
an angry person back then, but if he was…
Killing and ruining the lives of people isn't a suitable outlet. That much is obvious. And, if he's
going to be rational about everything, the bombings could be for a different reason. It's wrong to
assume that all crimes committed are done out of revenge. Though the more Izuku thinks about it,
the closer revenge comes to being the only solid reason he can think of. Both of the buildings
attacked were offices for large corporations. Maybe the man tried to get a job or discovered
something about the corporations that made him feel the need to destroy them. Or maybe he's an
underling doing it for a paycheck. The possibilities are endless, and he might never know.
"Are you going to say anything?" Izuku demands, defaulting to anger. It's easier that way. He can
do all his thinking later, when the man's smirk doesn't bore into his mind. "Anything at all? No
curses, no insisting you're innocent?"
Carefully, the man opens his mouth. "I have the right to remain silent," he says, voice surprisingly
even despite how nervous he was just a few minutes ago. "I will not say anything more without a
lawyer present."
Izuku wants to yell at him, to tell him that no lawyer would willingly pick up a criminal with so
many deaths on his hands, let alone a Quirkless one. But he can't. He doesn't know if it's because
he's so mad or if his past gets to him. He simply stands, glaring harshly. He can feel the weight of
the bodies he carried out of that building. The stink of charred flesh fills his nose. He almost wants
to cry. Almost.
A whooshing sound fills his ears and a heavy thud causes the roof of the building to shake. Izuku
turns to see a sidekick from the agency sitting on top of a heavy-duty villain transport case. "This
the guy?"
"Yeah."
Izuku's plan to go home and think goes right out the window the second they make it back to the
agency. Endeavor, being the number two hero, made arrangements with the police the second
Izuku hung up on him. Officers of the Tokyo police take the criminal down to the basement,
perform an impromptu interrogation, and extract the information they need. Izuku doesn't know
how they do it, but the pair of officers come back up with a tape recorder containing a confession
and notes detailing an escape plan. Izuku watches as Endeavor takes both of those items and shows
them to half the agency. The sidekicks organize a raid in ten minutes flat, only asking the police
for input at the very end.
"Tomorrow, right?"
"No. Tonight. Cancel any plans. Those terrorists have enough explosives to bring down a district.
There's simply no time to wait."
Izuku nods stiffly. What they're doing feels illegal, or at least not by the books. But the way the
man smiled when he was caught and his tone on the recording, all casual and without remorse… it
crushes any desire to do it the legal way. What's the point of it when you're hurting monsters?
Endeavor shares that line of thinking. He doesn't say it, but it's obvious. But he's also a hero with
years of experience. It's obvious that he called in the police so he could get their permission to do it
his way. That way if things go wrong on the legal side of things, he can point to the officers and
have them take the fall. Izuku wonders if he learned that from experience, but he doesn't wonder
long. Night comes faster than he could have anticipated, day swept away by a storm of planning
and preparation.
Izuku is put on the backline and ordered to stay away from the fighting. It's frustrating, even more
so because he understands why. The villains are camped out in an old factory with access to their
explosives. If those explosives go off, the building will come down. Having both him and
Endeavor, their two strongest fighters inside the building at risk of a collapse, isn't wise. The raid
crew needs a safety net, someone who could dig them out at a moment's notice. Endeavor can't do
that. His power set is simply geared towards other things. Izuku, on the other hand, can fill the role
perfectly.
So Izuku perches himself on the ledge of a building near the factory. Below him, heroes gather,
milling around amongst police officers. The legal side of things was settled out a few hours ago.
Technically speaking, heroes can raid on their own. They need government oversight to do such a
thing. It's a holdover from the early days of the system, a way to give the police power. But all one
needs to do is look at the scene for two seconds. They'll see that it's the heroes who are in charge
and the police under them.
"Do you see anything suspicious?" Endeavor's voice seeps into his ear, almost painful. Izuku dials
the volume on his earpiece down a little before answering.
"No. I don't see any lights and the sky is clear. Have the police back at the agency gotten back to
you about their second interrogation?"
"Yes. They failed to get any more out of the criminal. The previous method didn't work for a
second time."
"So you're going in without a clue of their Quirks."
"We know the layout of the building and know how many people they have. It will be enough."
"Of course, sir."
"Excellent. Hold your position. You are in charge of the reserves should things go wrong. Only act
on my order or if one of the heroes on the inside falls."
Izuku nods, muttering a confirmation before Endeavor kills their link. The heroes and police below
take up their starting positions, encircling the building completely. There's a brief moment of
silence, where the air stills and the moon dims. Then the streetlights go out, and the windows give
in. Izuku taps into the commutation line, listening to see if he's needed. There's chatter. A lot of it.
Twenty different conversations ring in his skull, each one vital to the mission in its own way.
Flashes of fire penetrate the darkness, lighting up the street and scorching the inside of the
building.
"One down!"
"Store room secured!"

"Sleeping quarters have been found empty."
"Evidence of narcotics manufacture found in the basement."
"Five captured!"
"Another three!"
"Where's the last tw—"
A gunshot. Izuku hears it twice. Once from his positions as a gut churning pop, and a second time
over the com as a roar.
"Burnin' has been hit!"
Izuku moves before the words truly register. He vaults off the building, swinging down through a
window and hitting the floor with a roll. The building is large and open with only a few doors.
Endeavor burns in the center, a harsh sun in the cold night. And to the man's left lies Burnin', head
in the lap of another hero as she cups her bloody stomach. Izuku rushes over, gauze already in his
hands as he puts pressure on the wound and prepares to head for the hospital. Looking around, he
sees that all the villains have been secured. Either in handcuffs or held by heroes, not one of them
can move. Even Endeavor personally holds one. But…
"Where did you get that gun?" the man all but roars. The villain, tiny by comparison, flinches
away from the wave of heat that scorches their face. Literally scorches their face. Izuku watches as
their skin burns. Not severely. Even angered, Endeavor has remarkable control of his Quirk. But
Izuku looks into those eyes, so cold and uncaring, and he realizes that maybe Endeavor doesn't
care at all. Not for someone who's killed and shot his sidekick. Izuku, though, can't help the way
his heart twinges. There's a moment of dissonance, sharp and painful as it works its way through
his head. But it's gone in an instant, and all Izuku can see is a man hurting someone defenseless out
of malice. His response is only natural. Especially since he's seen those eyes before.
Izuku's arm shoots out, arcing with electricity. Whips erupt from his fist, thick and rigged as they
hit Endeavor's arms. Endeavor drops the villain out of shock, and Izuku wraps them out, careful of
the buns. He pulls them close to him, putting them at his side. The message is clear. Endeavor gets
it, at least. The sidekicks and police only stare in shock. Meanwhile, Izuku stands, hero in one arm,
villain in the other.
"Boy—"
Izuku leaves before he hears the rest. The hospital isn't far. There's plenty of them in Tokyo. The
flight and the worry don't give him any time to settle. The throttle is wide open even as he barges
into the ER, screaming about burns and gunshots. Both of his passengers are rushed back for
treatment, the doctors confident in their safety.
He knows that he should report back, but Izuku can't bring himself to. So he doesn't. He goes right
home, changes, and falls asleep. The next morning he wakes up with an empty stomach and what
looks like a half million missed calls. Most are from Endeavor. Izuku considers ignoring it for a
moment, but that won't take the problem away. So he sucks it up, eats some breakfast, and heads
right for the agency.
Shoto is the only one there when he walks through the door. Uncaring, the boy sits with his feet
propped up on the front desk, eating a bowl of noodles. "Hello."
"Hi," Izuku says, approaching him. He stops in front of the desk and stands still for a moment.
Shoto is a brick wall, offering no shift in his facial expression or posture. Weirdly, though, Izuku
doesn't see the boy's father in him. He probably should, considering everything about Shoto. But he
doesn't, and Izuku begins to think. It's Shoto's father. Doesn't he deserve to know, too?
"Your father's not a good person."
"Uh huh."
"No, but like. He… he's a good hero."
"Sure."
"It's just… I don't think he… he's just an awful man, but he's such a great hero. And… I just figured
I should tell you."
Shoto grunts and lifts his bowl to his lips. He slurps his broth loudly before setting it in his lap. He
looks at Izuku, who gets the feeling that he's being studied. Seeing something, Shoto's expression
shifts a little. Less harsh and more relaxed. He deliberates for only a second before saying, "Have
you ever heard of Quirk marriages?"
Izuku heads up to Endeavor's office after that, and for once, he gets time to think. His thoughts
aren't pretty, but they're necessary. If he wants to sleep at night and make the world a safe place,
anyway. So Izuku sits in Endeavor's chair, feet on the man's desk and a mug of private tea in his
hands. The warmth of the mug boosts his confidence a little, hiding how his hands want to shake.
Because what he's about to do is ridiculous, even by his standards.
The elevator dings about an hour after Izuku takes his seat, and Endeavor walks in. The man
freezes when he sees Izuku, caught completely off guard. "What in the—"
"Sit," Izuku says firmly.
"This is my office—"
"I don't care. We're going to talk. You're going to sit. So sit. "
Endeavor pulls up a chair, sitting down in it aggressively. It strains under his weight and the room
grows hotter. Izuku keeps his cool, looking straight ahead as he calmly prepares to speak.
"You'll do as I say if you want a shot at being the top hero."
"Boy—"
"Shoto told me about his scar, you know," Izuku says, casually swirling his tea around. He keeps
his expression blank, hoping that his stuff posture doesn't betray his forced ease.
"Sho—"
"I'm surprised he told me, to be honest," Izuku continues. "Really. I barely know him but all I had
to do was tell him how awful I think you are and he opened right up. Tragic, isn't it?"
Endeavor glares. "He knows what he got himself into. He's just as dedicated—"
"Funny how people go along with what they've been raised to believe, isn't it?" Izuku takes a sip of
tea, the expensive brew tasting like ash on his tongue. "You could take a cat and tell it about the
wonders of flight every day and it would grow up to try to make wings. Despite the fact that there's
much more fulfilling things right on the ground."
"That boy is destined for greatness, just as you are."
"No one's destined for anything. There is no fate, no future for you to read. Shoto's life should be
up to him, not his father who treats him like a prized bull."
"And if he wants to be a hero?" Endeavor says like it changes anything.
"Then he should be. But what you've done? To your wife and kids? It's unacceptable. People aren't
tools, Enji," Izuku says, watching Endeavor's eyes narrow with furry. "But that doesn't matter to
you. Not one bit. You used your wife, you're using your son, and you tried to use me.
"Yeah, I know about your plan with Fuyumi, too," Izuku continues as Endeavor recoils in shock.
"Don't be surprised, the story of you and Rei leads right into your stunt."
"So what are you going to do about it?" Endeavor leans forward, confident in himself. "You're a
boy. I'm the strongest hero in the country. You sit there, talking like you could end me. But could
you? Could you really pull enough strings to end my chances of being number one?"
"Do you want to find out?" Endeavor doesn't respond. "I thought not. I'm popular too, no?
Fanclubs, merch deals, people begging for me to rank already." Izuku forces himself to take
another drink, uncomfortable with the level of ego and verbal venom that comes out of his mouth.
"It'll be like flipping a coin, really. Either way it'll make a fuss. Some people will believe me.
Enough to destabilize your spot, anyway. And once that starts? Your tower of achievements will
start to rot from your own sins."
"Sins," Endeavor grunts, "like I have any."
"Shoto? Everyone else you've hurt on your quest to take the number one spot for your own?"
"Shoto is a gift to the world. He'll be a great hero like I am. Even better if he can get over his
refusal to use his fire."
"Is that all you see?" Izuku clenches his mug, almost shaking. He almost can't believe it. How can
hero think like that? It's not right. "Do you not see what you've done to him? What you'd do to your
grandchildren had I married Fuyumi? Do you care for anything other than your reputation and
being the number one hero?"
Endeavor remains silent, and Izuku sets his tea on the table.
"That's exactly why you should never be let near the top."
"Do you honestly think every hero out there is a hero for the sake of being a hero?" Endeavor
stands and looks down at Izuku, who doesn't flinch. "I'd wager that there's a handful like you and
All Might. Everyone else wants something. Money, fame, power, glory, respect. You do this to me
and you may as well do it to every other hero in Japan."
Izuku raises an eyebrow. "And yet not all of those people are abusers. You are. You broke your
wife and hurt your son. For that alone you should have your license revoked."
"So do it." Izuku doesn't reply. "Go out there right now. Scream it to the world. On the off chance
they put my head on a pike, do you know what will happen when society looses it's two top heroes
back to back?"
"Who said anything about doing it right now?" Izuku stands, brushing off his clothes. "I can wait.
All Might will be back eventually. He'll stabilize any rot leftover by you. Until then, though?
You'll do as I say."
"And have you stab me in the back? I think not."
"Do you really think I'm that cruel?" Izuku relaxes a little, smiling warmly. Even he knows if
doesn't reach his eyes. "I'll give you a chance. Just the one. Frankly you don't even deserve it, but
I'm forgiving. Do as I say and I won't throw you to the wolves the second All Might gets back."
Endeavor's lips curl into a snarl, but Izuku hofks firm. He knows he's won. "What do you want."
"Simple. You're going to learn about being a hero for the sake of being a hero. Some nights,
anyways. Working in a soup kitchen builds character, but there's so much more wrong with you
than that. To be a decent human, you'll have to atone for being an awful father, fist."
Izuku drags Endeavor to a soup kitchen after that, just like he said. The man keeps silent, hiding his
fury. But that's fine. Because now he at least sees that what he's done is wrong on some level. And
Izuku can work with that.
Chapter End Notes
Boy I crammed a lot of shit into this one. But whatever, I want to get through
everything I need to quickly. One more chapter and we're there. It might be short, we'll
see. Anyways, I had a busy weekend and a shitty night so this one is a little late. The
next one will hopefully be here pretty quickly but life has a habbit of messing with
people, so. Yeah. Till next time. Cheers!
Join my discord!
Growing Darkness
Chapter Notes
"So you're going to try and blackmail him into being a better person?"
"More or less."
"Ah. So he's not going to jail, or…"
"Oh! When All Might comes back I'll file a report and turn in some evidence. I wouldn't feel
comfortable if I just let him basically get off scot-free. I mean, what's the point in change if no
one's aware of his progress? Or how bad he even was."
"I get that."
Nejire flips a page in her book, scanning the captions of the photos. History isn't an important
subject, at least in terms of the hero course, but U.A makes it a mandatory class for all students.
She's in the middle of taking notes, jotting down observations of old black and white photos. Izuku
glances over to see a shot of a soldier with War is Hell written across the brim of his helmet. His
eyes feel off. Unconfused. Like he's looking beyond the camera and right into Izuku's soul. Nejire
turns the page again and the image is quickly forgotten.
"But, like, why not now?"
"If I do that, I could seriously mess everything up. Like literally everything. Could you imagine
how it would go over if Endeavor deeds came to light? People would riot and lose faith in heroes."
"So you're going to wait it out?"
"Yep. I don't feel like causing societal collapse anytime soon."
"That's a good idea," Nejire agrees. "How're those lesson plans coming?"
"They're in progress," Izuku says, a little nervous. "I. I'm going to be in charge of students, you
know. And, like, that's fine. I signed up for it. But what if they don't like me?"
Nejire stays silent for a moment, watching him fidget with his papers and notes in his seat. "Izuku,
I want you to say that again.'
"What if they don't like me?"
"Okay. Now think about it for two seconds. You're one of the most popular heroes around, and
you'll be about the same age as they are. You're also really, really cool. There's no way they won't
like you."
"Yeah, but that's as a person," Izuku says, mumbling a little. "It's different. I… I know a lot of them
will probably like me as a hero and want to hang out and stuff, but. What if they don't like me as a
teacher?"
"Teachers Assistant."
"Same thing. What if I fail at being approachable while trying to also be commanding? There's just
so many more ways I can mess up as a teacher than as a friend or even an upperclassman."
"I mean, you've got a lot of good teachers here, right? Maybe you should try to do what they do."
Izuku laughs. "Yeah. I'll pull an Aizawa and expel them on the first day. Or I'll be like Gran and
kick them so hard they vomit."
"He did that to you?"
"No, I got off lucky. Other people, though… "
"Ah. Well, maybe not exactly what they do." Nejire rests her chin in her palm, elbow leaning into
the wood of the table. "What about that Yagi guy? He seems nice."
"Toshinori wants something different from me," Izuku explains, "he's going to do his thing and
while I have instructions, he wants me to be different."
"You're good at being different," Nejire says. "In a good way. An amazing way, even. So just be
yourself?"
"What even am I?" Izuku asks, a little more seriously than he intended. "I just. I'm myself every
day, but I can't picture myself just, like, acting like me."
"So don't act," Nejire suggests. "Just go out there and do your thing. Don't think about it. I know
you really want to plan every tiny detail, but I don't think you'll have to. Use the plan as a guide
and just go with your heart."
"It's better than nothing."
"That's the spirit! Or at least it sorta is. I'm sure you'll do great."
"Thanks." Izuku sighs and closes his binder, feeling the weight of everything. "I'm going to be so
busy."
"Yeah."
"It's just. Between Endeavor, teaching, training, and the classes I still have to take…"
"Where's the time for you?"
"Exactly. And, like, I don't need time for myself, but I'd like space for you and Tamaki and Mirio.
And my mom, too."
"You'll make time though, right?"
"I'll try. I think I can get Sundays off if I ask. Then I'll at least have one day for stuff that's not
training and work."
"I think you should ask for more than just one day." Nejire closes her textbook and fiddles with her
necklace. The gold shimmers in the light of the room, sparkling beautifully against the fabric of her
shirt. "You need rest. And you need time for yourself even if you don't think so. I know it would be
great if you could work all day everyday without tiring—sometimes I wish I could do the same—
but you need rest. I mean, what's the first thing you're teaching those first years?"
"Growth happens during rest periods," Izuku recalls, "not in the gym."
"Yeah. Because, like, lifting weights doesn't give you more muscle. It breaks down the tissue
which prompts the body to rebuild it. But if you don't let it rebuild it won't get stronger. It'll
dissolve into nothing if you go too long without rest."
"I guess I see where you're going with this."
"Good," Nejire says, taking one his hands in her own. She traces his veins with her thumb and rubs
the calluses of his palm with the tips of her fingers. "You're really amazing, you know. Strong,
handsome, probably the second coming of All Might who could destabilize society if he wanted to.
But you're only human. You need rest. I say that as your friend and girlfriend."
Izuku turns his hand over and squeezes Nejire's. "I think I'll ask for weekends off." Nejire smiles
and leans over the table. She kisses him.
"Thank you."
Later in the day Izuku has to go to U.A. He walks Nejire to the train station first, bidding her
goodbye and promising to tell her all about the job Nedzu's having him do. He'd have told her even
if she didn't ask, simply because he knows she—and anyone, really—would want to know. Who
wouldn't want a sneak peek at their incoming underclassmen? And so Izuku walks through the
gates of U.A, following the signs directing the recommendation exam takers and their patrons.
U.A itself is spotless. It's usually clean, mostly because of students working through their
punishments, but today there's an entirely new sheen to it. It feels new, fresh, and young. Izuku
heads for one of the lesser used buildings, it's round shape sticking out from the boxy glass and
stone of the others. He walks under a sign that reads Race Tack, noting how someone's placed a
directory on the front door. Locker rooms are to the right, waiting rooms are to the left, and the
viewing areas are dead ahead. Izuku heads for the waiting room, turning before he gets there and
opening a door marked Staff.
"I'm here, sir," he greets, closing the door behind him. From his pile of paperwork, Nedzu chirps a
hello.
"Do you know your duties?"
"Welcoming and escorting the examinees to their starting positions."
"Excellent. They should be arriving in a half hour. Would you mind changing into your gym
uniform? It's best if you show your allegiance to UA."
"Sure," Izuku agrees. "But why would I need to do that?"
"Oh, the commission usually sends one student to try out for them. It's likely they'll try to sway
you." Nedzu reaches into the pocket of his vest and pulls out a card. He tosses it to Izuku who
catches it. "That'll get you through all the locks in this building."
"Alright." Izuku slips the card into his pocket, curious. "Sway me to what, sir?"
"Their side, of course. You're a hot commodity and the commission wants to get you under their
thumbs." Nedzu hops down from his desk and walks towards the door. "That and they're most
definitely suspicious of your Quirks. It's possible they want to interrogate you."
"Ah."
"Try not to think about it. Good luck with the potential students. Try to make friends with all of
them."
"Yes, sir."
Izuku quickly finishes his preparations, changing and mentally going over the order of events in his
head. Once he's ready, he heads towards the entrance of the racetrack. There he stands, not daring
to look at his phone or any other distraction. After a few minutes people start to trickle in. Heroes
out of uniform and their charges mingle in the doorway. Izuku watches them, a polite smile on his
face. A few people eventually approach him, and he engages in basic small talk.
As the official start time of the event draws closer, bigger and bigger names arrive. Heroes in the
top twenty enter with ten minutes to go, some walking right up to Izuku to shake his hand. It's a
game of appearances. Everyone wants a spot in U.A, either for themselves or the kids they're
recommending. Sweet talking Izuku won't make it break who gets the spots, but in their eyes it
won't hurt. And being the last ones to arrive shows that they have other important things to do. It's
a lie, of course, but appearances must be kept up. It's for that reason that Endeavor walks in last,
Shoto at his side right as Izuku feels his phone vibrate in his pocket.
"Hi," Izuku calls, silencing his phone and stepping away from the hero and student pair in front of
him. He stands as tall as he can and waves. "I'm Midoriya, hero name: Deku. I'll be showing you
where to go and answering any questions you have. Patrons, you can head into the stands or wait
here until the practical is ready to begin. There's food and drinks up there. Students, you may eat
after the practical, but to prevent the sharing of martial on the written and interview portions, you
won't be able to leave my supervision or the waiting room. Thank you for your patience."
Izuku watches as most of the adults head up the steps to the viewing area before turning to the
students. "Follow me," he says, turning in the direction of the waiting room. He doesn't bother to
look back as he starts to walk. He can hear all of the footsteps and no one in their right mind would
hang back during such an important event.
Once Izuku reaches the waiting room, he holds the door open for the students, doing a quick
headcount. Twenty-five applicants walk in with Izuku following. He takes a seat by the door,
watching as the students sit in their own chairs. Most are too nervous to talk and opt to stare at their
shoes. Shoto is in the handful that look at ease. He sits, shoulders relaxed as he looks at his phone.
Shoto's probably a shoe-in, Izuku admits to himself. He hasn't seen him in action for an extended
period of time, but the brief instances Izuku's watched him, Shoto performed on the level of s
second or third year. And that's just with his ice. With his fire he'd be more than twice as powerful.
But that's a delicte issue he can't touch. Not yet, anyways. He just doesn't know the boy well
enough, and even if he's trying to get Endeavor to be better, well, Shoto seems pretty far removed
from his father in all aspects in terms of spite and hate. So Izuku will have to wait, which is fine.
There's time. He'll just—
"Hey! Rember me?"
Izuku looks up to see a tall boy with a buzzed haircut. He's broad and tan with a bright smile.
Something tingles in the back of his mind. "A little?"
"You signed my jacket!" The boy turns around and Izuku gets an eyeful of his own handwriting.
"Inasa?" Izuku asks, remembering a little.
"Yep. That's me!"

"We met at the end of summer, right?" Izuku asks. "Or was it fall? I do remember you mentioning
the recommendation exam, though. It's good to see you here."
"Thanks," Inasa says, bowing his head. "I'm so happy to see you again. How've you been?"
Izuku rattles off a few tidbits and stories that all boil down to him doing pretty good. Inasa,
however, is practically entranced by his time at U.A, and their talk gains the attention of the other
test takers. None join in, but most watch them talk. One in particular—a tall girl with black hair
tied into a ponytail—looks tempeted to join in. Izuku tries to include her, but Inasa takes up his
attention until it's time to start the actual tests.
Izuku sends them through the second door in the waiting room in groups of five every ten minutes.
The students will first write a quick essay and answer a few written questions before going through
a ten minute interview. The entire process goes fairly quick, and Izuku takes the students to the
lockers and offers them some advice.
"You're being timed but we're not exactly looking for raw power and speed. They're good to have,
sure, but UA is about more than that. You're not taking the basic entrance tests where the teachers
look for diamonds in the rough. You should already be cut and waiting for polish. Therefore you
should worry more about how you use your Quirks. Those who rip through the entire course will
be held in a different than those who make it through without causing any damage. Good luck and
I hope to see you at the start of the next semester."
Izuku leaves them, heading up to the stands. He sits away from the other heroes even though most
of them offer him a seat beside them. Minutes later, the first batch lines up at the start. They're
impressive for their age, but Izuku's been around seasoned pros, grizzled veterans, and young talent
already tempered and forged. None of them have anything on him and his friends, but compared to
who'll be taking the normal exams, they're on a different level.
The next batch of five comes up. Then the next. And the next. When the final one comes up, Izuku
recognizes both Shoto and Inasa on the starting blocks. The countdown starts and hits zero in a
heartbeat. Ice and wind explode, Inasa taking Izuku's words to heart and valuating over the
obstacles before ripping through the air with gale force winds. Shoto, however, simply brute forces
his way through everything, overturning all the obstacles and ruining the course. There's murmers
in the crowd, about how foolish it is to do such a thing. But Shoto easily catches up to Inasa, even
pushing ahead a little. Careless it may be, it's effectiveness cannot be ignored.
The two boys are neck and neck at the end, both of them letting their Quirks off on full blast. The
cold seeps into the entirety of the track, turning Izuku's breath a foggy white. They cross the finish
line, cameras flashing. Izuku looks up on the screen that displays all the times.
Yoarashi Inasa: 2:62 seconds.
Todoroki Shoto: 2.65 seconds.
Endeavor huffs, but Izuku mostly ignores him. He'll bug him later about everything. Kicking off
into the air, Izuku flies over the track, picking up the other students who got caught in the ice. He
lands at the finish line, approaching Inasa and Shoto who are clearly at the end of an argument.
Both quickly silence themselves when Izuku lands, glaring at each other.
"You're both dismissed. Have a nice afternoon," Izuku says, adding a little steel to his voice. All
for the applicants bow, quickly scurrying away. Izuku takes one look at the darkness on Inada's
face and decides to check in on him.
Quickly heading for the gates, Izuku perches on the wall. He waits until Inasa passes by before
jumping down beside him. The boy jumps, looks at Izuku, tries to smile, but then goes back to
glaring at the ground.
"Why do you work for Endeavor?"
"Well," Izuku starts, "he's good at his job. Really, really good."
"But he's an awful person."
"Yeah."
"And you still work for him?"
Izuku smiles a little. "I like to think that he works for me, now." Inasa snorts a little at the joke, so
Izuku continues. "Honestly, I've learned so much from him just by going on patrol. But I've learned
even more by observing him."
"What do you mean?"
"For one, I know what not to do in fan interactions. He's awful at those. And for two?" Izuku
shrugs. "That not every hero is all they're chalked uo to be. I'm guess you had a run in with him?"
"Yeah, and now I've delt with his son who's just the same."
"Shoto's difficult," Izuku admits, "but if you give him a shot he'll warm up to you. And you'll warm
up to him."
"That's not gonna happen," Inasa says, clearly annoyed. "He's going to get a spot, isn't he?"
"Yes."
"Yeah, then I'm not taking mine."
"What?"
"I don't want to deal with him."
"You can't let one person spoil something for you," Izuku advises. "It's not healthy. Don't let
Endeavor take your chance at going to UA away from you. Do you want him to ruin your goals?"
"No."
"Then take the spot. If you let him get to you, that means you lost, right? And it also means he
wins. Does Endeavor deserve to have a win over you?"
"No!" Inasa declares, smiling again.
"That's the spir—"
"One problem," Inasa interrupts, "I've already told my patron to decline my spot."
"Ah," Izuku says. "Well… there's always the normal exam."
"Yeah. I think I'll be taking those come winter."
"Good to hear. I hope I get to see you again."

"And I as well!"
Inasa leaves with a rediculously low bow and another autograph. Izuku watches him go, even make
excited for the year ahead of him
[x]
Dead. It's the only feeling one can glean from the air. Winds howl and waves crash, reminding all
that nature is very much in charge as they weather the craggy rocks of the coast. But there isn't a
single source of life to be heard or felt. No grass. No mice. No fish or seaweed. The currents,
waves, and wind sweep them all away, either to their graves or somewhere far, far away. It's not a
pretty scene by any means, when even the snow adds to the dead and frigged air, but there's a
beauty to it. Every step is made in labor, legs straining against nature itself. Perhaps they're due for
a storm, even if it isn't the season for it. One can never know, not truly. Hurricanes and tidal waves
are monsters of the natural world, unconquerable. For all but one.
Wind and rain and cold bite at exposed flesh, freezing any moisture and sucking the life out of the
living. Not that there's much life to go around. He himself is hardly alive, and while the children
are very much youthful, two bodies will be devoured but the winter. And his guards, of course,
haven't been alive for a long time. Yet the cold tries anyway, running it's natural course even as a
handful of Quirks keep it at bay. It's fascinating, really, how the world carries on without a care for
how the powers of man break its rules. He used to wonder how exactly Quirks work, but he's long
since given up on finding the answer. Watching from afar is so much more enjoyable.
"How much further?"
"A hundred meters or so. Keep walking, don't worry about a way back."
It doesn't silence their muttering. How could it? The two are immature and foolish. But All for One
doesn't mind so long as they are loyal. Fools are easier to mold, anyway, and they don't ask
questions.
Their freezing march persists, and they climb all the way to the top of a cliff. Clouds obscure the
stars, and the new moon offers no light. It's nearly pitch black, but the snow reflects a little light.
Enough to illuminate the path and to make out the crashing waves below. For a brief moment,
there's nothing other than nature. It's serene, deadly and cruel, but peaceful all the same. Then, he
feels it. A dip in the temperature ten meters away, felt even in the subzero air. All for One turns,
facing inland. A mass of purple and black swirls, growing every second. A hand pokes through,
gloved. Soon an arm follows, then a leg, and finally a person.
"And you are?"
All for One does not receive an answer. Instead, the portal grows in size, and more people pass
through. He counts one hundred fifty-six, a fair amount all things considered. Enough to do a
sizable amount of work. But it's still very impolite not to speak, and the fact that they're amassing
without his permission means he should kill them on principle. It was supposed to be a two on one
meeting. Now it's six on a hundred fifty. Curious.
The final figure steps out of the portal, wrapped up in a thick fur coat with a heavy hood. They are
tall, but only slightly above average for a human. The mutants of the group dwarf him while he
barely out reaches the average villain. Nonetheless, they approach with a straight back and cool
confidence. Behind them, Kurogiri appears, consolidating his smoke around his body and
following the leader. All for One steps forward, flanked by his students and guards. It's the
moment of truth.
"It's rather rude to kill my apprentice, you know," he says, deactivating his cloaking Quirk. Beside
him Himiko and Twice stiffen, and the crowd of villains shifts uneasily. Perhaps they smell rotting
bodies, or hear the pain he's wrought. Either way, the show of power isn't taken lightly. "And to
think you stole his warper, a man I made myself to always be loyal. You must be quite charismatic.
Do you have a name?"
"Sensei," the man hisses, approaching until he's a meter and a half away. All for One towers over
him, dominating the air. It's obvious who the bigger man is, yet the younger one does not bow.
Foolish or brave, All for One muses, which one could it be? Not that there's a distinction between
the two.
"I suppose that's what Tomura called me, and Kurogiri, too." A bout of dry sarcasm seeps into his
words, making the man bristle. He seems to doubt himself for a moment, but he quickly steels
himself. So All for One asks again, "What is your name?"
The man's hands, cold and steady, pull off his gloves. His hands are pale like the snow, boney and
delicate. Yet they're angular, almost sharp. His skin glows in the dim light, reminiscent of the steel
in blades. "Sensei," he says again, "it's me."
All for One pauses. Hardly surprised, he extends a hand. "Is it? I do not recognize you by your
voice alone, boy. Prove it to me."
The man's hands reach for his hood as he takes a step forward. All for One keeps his hand still,
more wary of the villains behind the man. "I'm Tomura," the man says, three fingers on each hand
grabbing the edge of his hood. All around, the wind stops. The clouds clear, and the stars shine
down. The waves still crash on the rocks, but they're slow. Cautious. Fearful. "Your successor."
Tomura moves fast. In a split second, both of his hands are splayed, centimeters away from All for
One's neck. It's remarkable. His hood has fallen, and All for One can see the glee, the
determination, the strength in his eyes. He sees the hatred, the pain, and the burning desire to
destroy. The perfect vessel. The perfect, cocky vessel still incubating in the womb. He needs to be
taught a lesson.
All for One grabs Tomura by the wrist. Jerking him into the air, he stuns the boy. A simple speed
Quirk gets him to the edge of the cliff easily, and he dangles Tomura over the edge, not a care in
the world. His guards turn on their haunches as Tomura's soldiers activate their own powers.
Himiko and Twice pull their weapons. Tomura claws at his wrists, not daring to touch him with all
five fingers.
"Careful now," All for One warns, "one wrong move and, well, you won't have to worry about
your futures any longer."
"Sensei," Tomura snarls, swinging back and forth as he tries to gain footing on the side of the cliff.
"Let me go!"
"Or what? You'll kill me?" All for One throws Tomura into the air, flipping over before catching
him by the heels. The small army very nearly charges, only held off by a barrier Quirk. It's more
for show than anything, but it keeps them at bay. It's all he needs for now. "You've gotten stronger.
More hungry. More daring. I've heard all about your exploits in the north Atlantic. They're rather
impressive. However I'm afraid you're hitting above your weight class by attacking me."
All for One hurls Tomura against the barrier, reinforcing it just enough to keep it whole before
dashing over faster than any human can perceive. He lifts Tomura by the throat, shoving him
against the barrier for his allies to see. The boy claws at his suit and hands, but his eyes soon go
wide. He squeezes All for One's wrists with all five fingers. Nothing happens.
Laughing, All for One droops his apprentice. Reaching out, he touches the barrier. It disintegrates
in seconds. "Perhaps you are a man now, Tomura. At the very least you are recklessly brave.
Bravo. You've returned to me alive and better than before."
"Just like you ordered." Tomura spits, a wad of blood staining the overturned snow. "'Come back a
king,'" he says, "well…" He stands, spreading his arms wide. "These are my people. My soldiers.
My kingdom. Am I not worthy?"
All for One studies the people Tomura claims as his own. They're all outcasts, mutants, or insane.
Perfect for a merry band of criminal misfits. "You are worthy to sit at my feet," All for One
decides. Tomura bristles.
"I have a country under my control. I've collected some of the strongest villains the world has to
offer, all of which bow to me. I don't belong at anyone's feet."
"Oh?" All for One moves forward, grabbing the collar of Tomura's coat. It decays, ash piling at his
feet. From the way Tomura's breathing shakes, the message is clear. "I am All for One, the most
powerful man to live. Everything belongs at my feet. You, your army—all of it. I find you worthy
to work at my side, be grateful for that much."
"All for One is dead!"
"Faker!"
"How brave. Usin' his name to try an' get us to fold."
"You poor, poor fools," All for One chuckles, returning Decay to Tomura plus a little something…
extra. "Would anyone care to test me? Attempt to prove me wrong? I must offer a warning before
you do, I'm not known for being the merciful type."
The ranks and files of villains teeter nervously. While their doubt is palpable, it's not doubt in his
identity. All for One is dead to the world, he made sure of it. Word reached every corner of the
underworld mere days after his clash with All Might. But they know that he is strong, strong
enough to, in their minds, attempt to fake being the most powerful man to ever live. It's not
something to take lightly.
"Step forward," All for One taunts again, opening himself up to attack. His guards snarl behind
him but hold back. They're hardly needed. "Any one of you, or all at once. I care not for how you
try to kill me. I'm already certain of the outcome."
There's a pause and the wind picks back up. No one moves. Then, after a moment, there's the
scrape of a boot on ice. Wind changes directions, a gust blowing the jacket of his suit behind him.
A blade, needle thin and razor sharp, plunges into the fabric of his tie. It snaps. Shards of metal
break apart and land in the snow. All for One grabs his assailant by the throat, holding them up for
their peers to see.
"Transformative, simple but strong. Some form of linear acceleration? No. It changes your muscle
fibres for brief moments of time. Fascinating. I wonder…"
All for One takes, the villains cries of pain and loss carried away by the wind. He drops them,
snow puffing up and sticking to their skin. He takes in the crowd, smoothing out his suit and
redoing his tie. "Use it."
The villain stands, half mad without their power. They babble on and on, unintelligible gibberish
coming from their mouth. Unsteady, the teater back and forth, turning to look at their allies. They
take one step forward. Their eyes go blank, dead to the world as they faceplant into the snow.
"Gone. It's not yours anymore, is it?" All for One holds an arm out, turning the Quirk on. He feels
the muscles in his arm shift, becoming more efficient, more durable, yet no more powerful. The
strength of the Quirk comes from the agility rather than the raw power. It would be useful in a
Nomu. But it is unwise to over intimidate his new army.
"Such a unique and interesting Quirk, I'm tempted to keep it for myself. Perhaps the rest of you
would care to show me what you have to offer."
The answer is a collective no. All for One is not surprised. He returns the Quirk as a show of good
faith even though his reputation is far too large for such a small act to change anything. Then, once
he has the attention of everyone on the cliff, he calls for Kurogiri. Not verbally. Nomu don't need
words to be ordered around, not by him. Instead he pulls with his mind, numbing the pain that
wreaks his body with another Quirk. It's hardly sustainable, but if he were to speak, the villains
would jump out of their skins. He can already feel their fear, their regret, their anxiety. Should he
feed those emotions he will lose the ability to manipulate them cleanly. So when Kurogiri drifts
over to his side, All for One doesn't say a word. He flinks two fingers out, conjuring a pair of black
and red whips. They plunge into the man, arcing with power. A portal swirls, purple and black.
Without warning, he manipulates it so it's below the feet of everyone on the ground. With shouts of
terror, the supposedly strongest villains alive fall into his lair.
All for One floats down by himself, Air Walk providing a soft landing for him and Telekinesis
suspending his students and guards. Tomura's underlings crash into the cold, hard floor, standing
back up and backing away. They can't go far, however. The room is much too small for all of the
bodies. Yet they crowd away from him, forcing Tomura to the front. "This is a much more
welcoming place, don't you agree?"
Tomura twitches and looks around, finding that it's a completely empty room with no doors or
windows. "What do you want from me."
All for One laughs, pleasantly surprised. "You've learned. How interesting. Knowing your place is
such a valuable skill, you know. It's hardly found in villains these days."
"What," Tomura grits, hands twitching, "do you want?"
"An excellent question," All for One muses, "I suppose All Might's head on a platter along with his
Quirk, though I fear those are both out of reach for now. I'll have to settle for taking your men for
myself."
"I'd sooner off myself than work for a tyrant!"
"Charming." All for One scans the crowd of villains, memorizing faces and mannerisms. Quirks
will come later. "And prey tell, what is Tomura to you? I doubt he offered his hand in kindness.
He's using you, you know. To get back in my good graces before overthrowing me."
"You're a dictator. You take everything for yourself. It's in your fucking name! All for One!"
"And you want to follow your own ambitions, hm?" All for One looks down at Tomura who still
stands at the head of his little army. "Tomura, what did you offer them?"
"Freedom after years of service," he reports. "Long enough for me to become a king. Then they can
do whatever they like."
"Interesting. A slightly better deal than the one you offered your first henchmen." Tomura flinches
at the memory, and All for One files the knowledge of that sore spot away for later. "So you're his
slaves, then, correct? For years you'll do his bidding before going free. How is that different from
me?"
"We barely work."
"He doesn't order us around unless we're on the job."
"He gives us what we want."
"Tomura, you're a fool." All for One spreads his arms wide in a welcoming gesture. "You're
treating them as you wished you were treated. Like companions. Calling in favors in exchange for
something of equal value. You've left them free to roam and grow, and should you wrong them or
should they become hungry, they will attack you. And you're far too weak to fend them all off."
"I am st—"
"Not strong enough. Decay is powerful, but your body is still weak. You're barely more than a boy
physically. Compared to your so-called army you're nothing. What's stopping them from cutting
your head off right now? Empty threats and my presence. It's a miracle you've lasted this long. That
or you've gotten good at bluffing and playing a con-man."
"I offer them fairness! Equal treatment! A community! Organization! We all want the same thing.
We've already achieved it in Iceland! Society is a cancer on the soul of mankind. It feeds and
grows, hurting everyone it touches. All except those in control. We've torn down one government.
We'll do it again!"
"Japan is a massive step from Iceland," All for One chuckles. "What would you have done if you
managed to kill me? Fail miserably. Everyone knows that, it's so painfully obvious. But as for your
goals…
"I suppose they align with mine in a way." All for One smiles as the villains turn a cautious ear
toward him. He's known for being manipulative and ruthless, but mostly to those in his care or
those who work against him. Neutral parties are expected to be given honestly, something that
dangles in the backs of their minds. Of course, All for One will use anything to get what he wants.
Only fools would think differently. However, fools are useful. "Yes, I, too, hate the current system.
If the world, of Asia, of my own country. I suspect that it's similar around the globe, though I'm
hardly a world traveler anymore.
"You've all been treated like trash, have you not? Like scum stuck to the sole of a shoe or a piece of
lint on a shirt. Blights on everyday necessities, thrown away with apathy or disgust. You wish to
end that. You wish you were welcomed like the people society deems to be good. Or perhaps you
wish to burn the whole thing down as revenge before bathing in the ashes of the village that scored
you. The roads lead to the same fork, in my eyes.
"Yet razing society to the ground is useless without a plan for rebuilding. I can tell some of you
wish for anarchy, and I can tell that those of you that do are fools. Overturning the board, even if
you melt the pieces, will leave a power vacuum. Those that thrived in the old ways will survive, at
least some of them. They'll rebuild, and since you're all leaderless and unorganized, well I don't
have to continue. But there's another way.
"Look at yourselves. See how powerful you are. Know that you're even stronger together. You've
already brought Iceland under your thrall, and in doing so you could choke part of the world's
trade, starving those that named you undesirables. Yet undesirables you are not. Don't you see the
power you hold? Individually and as a whole? You're better than them. Stronger, leaner, more
intelligent. They lost to their own garbage. You should be in charge after the uprising comes, not
milling about in the ashes waiting until you die so your grandchildren can suffer as you did. No!
You belong on top. All of us do.
"Those that cast you aside are weak! They are not fighters, they are mundane workers. Slaves to
those who dictate their opinions. In being cast out, you uncovered the truth. No CEO or president
or prime minister or general alive could fight you alone. Yet they live in luxury. Take that from
them, take it for yourselves! Equality is a lie. You've all seen it. Those that follow mindlessly
should be freed, yes, but they do not deserve what you do. They have not earned the right to eat
alongside you. They lost it the day they branded you villains or creeps or sinners. Take what's
yours, my friends, live like kings!"
"You'll take the grandest share, won't you? You'll use us right up and then hoard all we've worked
for."
"There must be structure and I will be on top," All for One concedes. "Yet what I take will be a
fraction of what the elites have already stolen. No one will starve, no one will freeze, and no being
will worry about living their life, least of all my men. If I am the one true king then you are my
royal guards. Below Tomura and Himiko as my prince and princess, you will be the most valued.
You will be welcomed, loved, and you will still get your freedom. No one should work their entire
life, that's something I firmly believe in. So I offer you this: join me and achieve things beyond
your wildest dreams. Or don't, and realize you're a hostile army in my country."
Not one of them refuses. All for Own warps them back to his complex with a smile. An army. A
pair of generals. Hundreds of monstrous hounds made to kill. He has his pieces back. Now all he
needs is to cripple the other team before they even realize a game is in play.
Chapter End Notes
Sorry for the wait, I was busy. The next one should be the first day of UA. I'll
probably cram more in, but I'm definitely going to focus on getting everything about
day one right as as good as they can be. It's been eight months since I first posted this
and we're finally getting to what we've all been waiting for. If you've been here that
entire time, thanks a million. I appreciate each and every one of you. Cheers!
Join my discord!
A New Beginning
Chapter Notes
TW: serious injury and mild gore. I kept it pretty vauge and didn't go into detail, but if
you want to skip it starts at "He turns through another door and stops" and ends at "He
hides in the cabin, wide awake for the whole night." Both will be bold.
It's so cold he's pretty sure the snow would stick to his skin if he tried to touch it. Not that he'd ever
try. He's had frostbite before and he's familiar with the pain. He doesn't want to go through it
again, which makes this sudden chill all the stranger. He prepared for winter weather. Over
prepared, even. Multiple layers, a warm thermos of soup, wood for a fire. By all means he was
treating a routine break-in like it was happening in the attic. Then the weather changed.
The temperature dropped right as he stepped across the treeline. It was so extreme he went back to
see if there was a difference between inside the forest and the outside if it. But the strange cold
affects everywhere he can reach. There's no end to it. No matter where he walks, he can't find a
safer area. Because the cold is dangerous. Deadly, even. He's certain he would be dead if it weren't
for his over preparations, and even now he can feel the chill sink into his flesh.
Cursing his luck, he pulls one of his gloves off. The wind instantly makes his hand go numb, but
he grabs the hem of his sleeve and pulls his arm through it, holding his hand against his chest. He
ties the sleeve shut with his other hand and teeth, tucking his glove into his pocket. With a deep
breath, he activates his Meta Ability. Ruby isn't powerful. Not like those freaks out there seeing the
future and breathing poison gas. But it's energy. Pure, clean, warm, and red. The warmth is more
important at the moment, and he carefully coaxes the red light to life against his chest. He feels his
body start to heat up, and muscles he didn't even realize were tense relax. Yet at the same time, he
feels something inside of him go cold. He's not idealistic or spiritual enough to call it his soul, but
it's the only word he can think of for it. Because for every minute Ruby burns, he loses time off his
life.
He had a sister before. A brilliant purple Amethyst to his Ruby. He knows how his Meta Ability
works because of her. It's why he never uses it other than in situations like the one he's facing now.
Where he'll die if he doesn't. So he moves forward, warming himself with his Meta Ability,
shutting it off and letting the heat fade before turning it back in again. He pushes through the wind
and the snow, at first to find his target, but as time wears on he gradually shifts to seeking shelter
for survival. If the worst case scenario happens, he can try to go back to the forest. There'll at least
be trees to use for shelter there. But a house would be better. Especially the house like the one he
decided to try and rob.
He finds footprints. After what feels like hours of carrying both him and his equipment uphill, a
single set appears in the snow. Nearly swept away by the wind, it's impossible to tell what sort of
thing made them. They're vaguely shoe shaped, but that doesn't mean much after all the exposure
they've been through. But they lead somewhere and don't come back, at least not anywhere he can
see. Either there's shelter up ahead or there's a corpse. Both options warrant an investigation.
The footprints become more and more defined as he follows them, turning from imprints blown
over with snow to readable marks. Whoever made them was wearing boots. Big ones. They also
didn't stumble once or stop to rest. The prints are in a perfectly straight, unbroken line, sunk deep
into the snow. It's unnatural. Anything that heavy or big would feel the wind more than he does.
Even if they were ridiculously strong and sturdy there would be evidence of slipping and sliding.
He begins to think that there's a Meta Ability at play, something that puts him on edge.
There's only so many Metas in Japan. Realistically, he could live comfortably as a bodyguard or a
status symbol for some high and mighty drug lord or crime boss anywhere in the world—that's how
few of their type there are. But to potentially have one in a house he was tipped off to rob… it's
almost definitely a ploy to get him killed or arrested.
Cursing, he vows to kill the man that gave him the information if he makes it back home alive. But
for now, he trudges on, keeping an ear out for any threats. Eventually, he sees light. Soft and
yellow, to rest atop the snow like a film projection. It's both relieving and nerve-wracking. A fight
or a score. He gives it a fifty-fifty chance. It's not the kind of odds he likes, especially when escape
is all but impossible in the storm. But he'll either expend a massive amount of his Meta Ability in
the storm or die of exposure if he doesn't go in, so the choice is obvious.
He follows the light, spotting a cabin on a hill surrounded by evergreen trees. He starts to crawl,
keeping to the ground in an attempt to get out of the line of sight someone would have from the
windows. As he draws closer, more of the cabin comes into view, and the footprints become even
more clear. Somehow, one is completely intact. Like a warning, the brand-name of the boot can be
read backwards in the snow. Only it's not from a boot. It's from a high quality dress shoe company
that went under after the first wave of riots. Nearly twenty years ago. Someone rich and powerful
made their way to the cabin. It only feeds his nervousness.
He nearly turns tail and runs at the sight of the blood. The way it sticks to the wooden steps,
repelling the snow and wind by some supernatural force. It's frozen, but that doesn't mean much.
It's so cold, spit will freeze before it hits the ground. Or more maybe after getting a centimeter or
two away from his lips. But the puddles are in the shape of a pair of shoes. Big shoes. The same as
the footprints in the snow. Someone already killed or tried to kill someone. And judging by the
way the blood pools on the steps before dropping down into the snow before disappearing, they
flew off. Possibly to be back, probably to get away. No matter what, he can't bring himself to
leave. It just wouldn't sit right with him. So without thinking, he stands and pushes the door open.
It falls off its hinges with a creak, breaking in two on the floor. Cold air rushes into the mudroom,
turning the air into a crisp fog. He drops his backpack, hoping that if he has to fight, he'll at least be
lighter on his feet. Cautiously walking through the door to the mudroom, he looks around to find
more blood. Most of it is frozen. The further it gets from the door, the more it streaks and globs.
Almost like someone was trying to wipe their feet off.
There's a small hall running perpendicular to the mudroom. He goes right, following the blood and
casting a look over his shoulder every few seconds. Outside, the wind slows, and the lack of a
mournful howl becomes more terrifying than the presence of it. His ears empty of sound. He can
hear his own heart and the way cold air freezes his nostrils. His footsteps turn into explosions and
the rustle of his coat nails on a chalkboard. It's all overwhelming. The noise, the silences, his fear,
the cold. He can't take it. He wants to collapse and rest, damn the weather and damn the money.
But then he hears it. Breathing.
Uneven and raspy, it permeates through the wall. He nearly misses it between his own short
breaths, but it's there. Someone is alive. For how long, he can't tell. In a bout of cautious curiosity,
he taps his foot on the floor. They should have heard him earlier, when he dropped his backpack,
but if they're dying, well. He can forgive them for missing him. The breathing halts as his tap
reaches their ears. It picks back up, just the same as it was before. No nervous increase in speed or
an attempt to hold one's breath. He doesn't know what it means, but it doesn't feel right.
He turns through another door and stops. He can barely process what he sees. Red. Red, red,
red. Pink, too, and black. And the smell. Copper, or maybe iron. But that's just from a single
breath. Everything smells burnt on the second, like someone threw a steak into a campfire. And he
can taste it, too. The metallic, sweet, bitter, vomit inducing taste of blood and guts. Because that's
what lays on the floor of the kitchen. A body. A body that cannot be called alive, not when the
organs look like that. But the breathing persists, and he's forced to admit that the person is still
conscious. What he does next is pure instinct. There isn't a thought to it.
His coat comes off. The cold has no effect on him, none that he can feel. He approaches the body,
careful not to step on any of their parts. He tries to think of something to say, but what would he
offer? Words of comfort? An explanation? The truth is something they're already fully aware of,
and lies would only make them hurt. So he doesn't utter a single word as he covers what's left of
their torso with his coat. He kneels beside them, using Ruby to warm the area. They turn their head
to them, slow and steady.
"Who…"
He licks his lips, nervously shifting away but keeping his handful of energy close to their body.
"A… a friend. I won't hurt you."
They smile bitterly, something he manages to pick up on even if their teeth are bloodstained and
their eyes swollen shut with bruises. "Hurt… you couldn't."
"I… yes. That would be impossible. Do…" he swallows, the smell digging into his nose, white hot
and knife sharp. "Do you need anything?"
"Not anymore," they rasp, shaking their head just barely. Slowly, they move their arms to touch his
coat. Rubbing the fabric between their fingers, they look into his eyes. Even though they are dying,
those eyes glow with intelligence and iron will. "Why?"
"The coat?"
"And the warmth."
He stares at them for a moment, thinking. "Because I can't leave someone who looks like this to
die alone."
They nod, accepting his answer. "Thank you."
"I—"
Something grabs his face. He only realizes that it's a hand when fingers start to pry his mouth open.
Screaming, he reaches up and tries to force it away. But the limb grows in size, big enough to hold
a watermelon on its own. He's quickly overpowered, and something wet is forced into his mouth.
Fingers force his nose shut and a hand presses his jaw upwards. He swallows, feeling something
foul slip down his esophagus.
"What the hell, man?!" he shouts, jumping away. His stomach turns and he nearly vomits. "Who…
what the fuck was that?"
They smile sadly. "My only hope. A foolish theory, but then again… you should be thankful you
didn't receive it the way I did."
"Receive what? The flesh of man? You're insane!"
"Flesh of woman in this case," they—she says, her chest rising and falling just a bit quicker. "But
it's not the flesh that is important. It's the power it holds."
"I'm going to throw up."
"You will not." Somehow she straightens, and steel creeps into her voice. "That power was my
husbands, then mine, and then it was mauled before my child could review it. You will carry it on,
now. Keep it alive. Nurture it. Let it grow. One day it will kill the one who did this to me."
"I want nothing to do with your psychotic grudge."
"A shame," she says, and she really does mean it, "because All for One does not care for the
opinions of neutral parties. He will kill you."
"Thank you for your hospitality," he says bitterly.
"Quiet. I wasn't finished. All for One, do you know him?"
"I know of him."
"Then you know that he needs to die."
"He does?"
"Yes. You've seen the warlords, Thief." He tries not to flinch as she calls him out, but he fails. Her
tone is just too strong and blood has fried his brain. "He is worse than any of those fools. He will
turn everything on its head, kill on a scale we haven't seen since China's collapse, all in the name of
greed. Of power."
"You're forcing me to join your crusade."
"I'm dead. It is my crusade no longer."
He glares, trying to find anger to throw at the woman before him. His search comes up empty.
"Alright. I'll fight him. I'll… I'll nurture what you've given me."
"That's all I ask. Please, feed it and pass it on. My husband had the ability to pass down powers and
was given a stockpiling ability."
"You don't mean…"
"I do. One day, it will triumph over all the Meta Abilities in the world."
"I… thank you," he says, though he doesn't know why.
"No," the woman says, finally letting herself relax into the wood of the cabin. "Thank you. It is
your burden to bear. You've only taken it from me."
He hides in the cabin, wide awake for the whole night. All for One. Greed and lust for power.
He had a brother, that is well known. And that brother was supposedly selfless. His opposite. One
for All will be All for One's opposite. One power to do All things. One power to shatter the might
of the world's greediest man.
He wakes up in a pool of sweat, panting heavily. There's a moment of unsteadiness, where the
world blurs and spins around him. He blinks, banishing the fuzz. Slowly, he touches himself,
feeling his stomach and chest. Intact, no strange protrusions or crippling injuries. It shouldn't be a
small ask to keep things that way, but the users of One for All have the tendency to be rather
reckless. Like Three was in that memory. No, he was the more sane one. Two, though. Passing the
power on to Three was a risky move. It paid off, but it set a trend.
Sitting up, he decides to get his bearings. He's almost certainly Nine. There's a link, now, to all the
past users. Eight is fading but Nine is a blazing star on the horizon. It's easy to figure out who's
body he's in. Standing, he stretches his stiff muscles. The alarm clock on the nightstand tells him
it's four in the morning. Beside the clock he spies a necklace. He feels a pull towards it, powerful,
but not from him. Interesting.
Choosing to ignore the necklace, he pulls open the drawer of the nightstand. There's a notebook. A
quick scan shows that it's mostly full of doodles and notes written by Nine as he waited to fall
asleep. Curiously, he picks up a pencil and sketches a few lines. There's no particular vision in his
mind, but when he's finished, nine stars dot the corner of a page.
It feels weird. Doing things. Thinking for an extended period of time. He's so used to taking the
backseat that… wait, does he take the back seat? He has Nine's memories, just like he has the
memories of all the other holders. But it doesn't feel right to call himself an observer. What even is
he? Who is he? Is he just Nine, clouded in the fog of One for All and forgetting himself? Or is he
someone else entirely, woken from his hibernation by intense dreams and piloting the body while
Nine recuperates? He doesn't know. Nine probably doesn't either. Stumped, he sits down in bed.
Writing a quick note in the margins of a hero costume sketch, he decides to leave it for later.
He grabs the necklace, slips it on, and relaxes. With a jolt, Izuku wakes up. He looks down at the
notebook in his hands, at a loss. How… why… a million questions dance in his mind, uncertain
while they mingle about. Everything feels complicated. Delicate, too. One wrong thought could tip
it all over, and not in a good way. He remembers waking up. He remembers drawing in the
notebook, but it's like how he remembers his dreams. Faint, weak, and fading. Is he two people or
one? He doesn't know. He can't know. Not right now, when he has yet to consider the dream he
was having before he woke.
Laying back in bed, Izuku yawns. He's tired. Another hour of sleep would probably fix it, but he
gets up at five anyways. If he goes back to bed he'll be lucky to get a half hour, and he'll feel awful
when he wakes up again. He quickly decides to stay awake, writing down what he can remember
about his dream before getting dressed. When five o'clock rolls around, he silences his alarm and
goes about his morning. Once the clock hits seven, Izuku finds himself back in his room. He
changes and double checks his backpack. It feels weird wearing his school uniform again—he
hasn't needed to for so long—but it's a nice sort of weird. More importantly, it's a good distraction
from the coming school day.
Day one of his second year of highschool.
It feels wrong, almost. He still feels a little like that kid who nervously walked out of the practical
exam, second guessing his score. But it's been over a year since then, and he knows he's different.
Very different. He's taller, more confident, stronger, smarter, and happier. Looking back is a treat,
now. It makes him feel good. Like he's looking down from the summit of a mountain. It's a far cry
from how he was back then, looking at his middle school days. And that's a good thing.
Smiling, he wishes his mom a goodbye and walks out the front door. U.A is a short walk away, but
it's still long enough to pick up on some differences. Students, mostly third and second years, walk
up to the gates, talking and laughing. But it's a different crowd. A few faces are missing. Izuku
wasn't close to the graduating class by any means, but he got used to seeing them around and
trading nods or a few short words. It's weird having them gone. It's even weirder to see the first
years, though. They're all instantly recognizable, not because he knows them, but because of how
they carry themselves.
Nervous. Unsteady. Lacking confidence. Izuku can tell they feel like they don't quite belong yet,
and he can't blame them. He felt the same walking though U.A, even going into the Sports
Festival. How could he be worthy to walk the same path All Might did? He wasn't. Not then at
least, but he grew into it. Just as the first years will. If they can stop staring at him and get to class.
Really. It's embarrassing how many people look at him as he walks to class. A guy trips over his
own feet, a girl runs into a pole, a group of first years point and murmur—it's almost annoying.
Almost. But he'll have to get used to it. It'll be his life once he graduates. In fact, it already is his
life. So he doesn't do anything no matter how blatantly they stare. Well, maybe he walks just a
little bit faster, just so the first years can get a move on. He knows Aizawa would never let
someone slide for being late just because they were starstruck. In fact he'd probably hand out
double detention for it, that's just how he rolls. And it's not a line of thinking that he can call
illogical.
Walking past the building with his old classroom in it, Izuku turns left onto a smaller path. There's
less people on it, and none of them are first years. He greets a few older heroics students before
pulling out his phone and sending a few texts. Orientation is in fifteen minutes, but he has better
things to do than… actually, he doesn't have a clue as to what happens during orientation, but he's
sure it's unimportant in the grand scheme of things. So Izuku pushes through the door of a small
conference building, smiling as he sees who's been waiting for him.
"Morning, Toshinori."
"Good morning, Izuku." All Might rises from his chair, albeit cautiously. Ever since his surgery
went through, he's had to go in for extra operations every few weeks. While most of his organs
were replaced, the cavity in his abdomen left by All for One had gradually collapsed inward over
the years. Recovery Girl and a team of surgeons had to work on expanding the area before they
could conduct the transplants, and now they have to make sure the region won't recollapse. It
means that All Might spends more time sitting down, and most of that time he spends sleeping. But
he looks much healthier already.
"How are the final preparations going?" Izuku asks, accepting the man's hug. It's less boney than it
was even two weeks ago. The man's really put on some weight.
"As smooth as they can be," All Might replies, pulling away. "I have the rooms cleaned and
organized, my papers ready, and my lesson plan memorized. Now all that's left is to get through
everything in a timely manner."
"Nedzu's giving you the entire pre lunch period two days a week," Izuku says, "you'll get through
everything."
"I know I could, but what about the students? What if they're… I don't want to be rude or to insult
them, but I can't help but think that they might be a little unprepared for what I have in store." All
Might casts a look at his notes for the first school week. "Not everyone is as eager for exercise as
you are, you know."
"It helps that working out makes my Quirk more powerful." Izuku picks up the notebook and looks
it over even though he's done so a million times. "It gave me a clear goal for my workouts. We just
have to make sure the first years also understand why we're going to, well…"
"Put them through hell."
"I was going to try to say it a little more kind," Izuku chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck. "I'm
all for whipping them into shape as fast as possible, but they're so young. You've seen the videos,
right?"
"Of the entrance exams?" All Might asks. Izuku nods. "Of course. All of them are bright young
adults. Most use their Quirks quite well, even though their bodies are less than optimal."
"Mine wasn't either, you know," Izuku reminds All Might. "A Quirkless, spindly fanboy,
remember?"
"Yes, but now I'm managing forty children, not just one." All Might sits back down, smoothing his
suit.
" We'll be dealing with forty first years," Izuku says, taking the seat opposite him. "I'll pitch in
every chance I get. And there are some good kids this year. I know that for a fact."
"I know all about your bias for young Todoroki, Asui, and Yoarashi," All Might says with a
teasing smile. "Educators are expected to treat every student equally, I hope I don't have to remind
you."
"I hope I don't have to remind you. " Izuku smiles as he relaxes in his seat. "Surely you're mature
enough to treat all of your students as well as you treat your successor."
All Might smiles back. "We shall see."
The bell rings a second later, and Izuku very nearly gets up to head to Aizawa's classroom. But he
stops himself, letting out a soft huh. "I guess it's official."
"Indeed," All Might agrees. "Welcome to classroom 2-A. I will be your homeroom teacher, Yagi
Toshinori, though you may know me better as All Might. Please, read the syllabus and wait until it
is time to go to orientation."
Izuku keeps a straight face for a solid five seconds—a great achievement, in his opinion. Then, he
laughs. Good and loud, bubbly, too. All Might does the same, albeit much more relaxed. "Thank
you for having me, sir," Izuku manages to get out between giggles, "I hope to learn a lot in my
homeroom class."
"Yes, yes, of course." All Might spreads his arms wide and beams. "We'll do all sorts of class
activities this year, both so you can grow closer to your peers and to prepare you for the real world.
But first, orientation."
"Actually," Izuku says, calming down, "if it's alright, I'd like to skip it. I did my first year."
All Might shrugs. "I don't see any harm in it, but why?"
"I'd like to check out Aizawa's Quirk test."
"Ah. Seeing your replacements, hmm? Perhaps to remind Aizawa who the main Problem Child
is?" the man teases.
"No, of course not," Izuku denies. "Well, maybe a little. But I want to watch them and get a feel for
what we're working with. I'd do the same with 1-B, but Vlad always goes to orientation, right?"
"I see. Are you sure it's wise, though? You said one of the boys in that class has a… complicated
relationship with you."
"Bakugo?" Izuku falters just a little, but he pushes on. "I'll be alright and he will be, too. If worse
comes to worst, I'll get out. And it's not even me I'm worried about. I just don't want to set him off
like I know I could. It wouldn't be a good first day, you know. Plus." Izuku pulls his phone out of
his pocket and shows All Might a few texts from his friends. "We're going to have some fun."
"Very well. Enjoy your morning, be sure to give Aizawa some more grey hairs for me."
Izuku leaves with a smile, getting back on the main road and heading towards the building with the
first year homerooms. He stops short of the building, counting to three in his head before looking
up. Periwinkle tickles his nose, and he backs up. "Where did you come from?"
"I could ask you the same thing!" Nejire flips in the air, carelessly tossing her hair as she floats
down to kiss him on the lips. "I missed you."
"It's only been half a day," Izuku says with a smile.
"No, I meant that I didn't see you walk in the gates. Though I guess your idea wasn't exactly false."
Nejire lands and grabs onto his arm, bouncing from foot to foot as they wait outside the building.
"The boys should be here soon. They just had to check in with their teachers quick. They at least
want us to be marked for attendance if we're going to blow off orientation."
"That's fair," Izuku says. "Toshinori is fine with me not going and he knows I'm here so I didn't
really have to do anything. What even happens at orientation?"
"Introductions, awards, boring stuff, mostly. It's for the first years." Nejire looks over her shoulder.
"Mirio and Tamaki are here."
"Yes we are!" Mirio's voice carries through the open air, making Izuku smile even wider. He turns
and accepts his friend's hug. They pull apart and Izuku quickly embraces Tamaki as well. "How's
everyone's morning?"
"Great."
"Shaky, but looking up."
"What happened?" Nejire asks, leaning into Izuku a bit more.
"I had a weird dream and woke up a bit earlier than I wanted," Izuku explains. "Nothing I haven't
dealt with before, it's just a little tiring. I'll be alright."
"We're here if you need us," Mirio reminds.
"I know. Do you guys want to head up?"
"Up?" Tamaki asks, sounding a little dubious. "I thought we were watching the first years."
"We are," Izuku says, his smile shifting to something a little more mischievous. "It's just that
Aizawa doesn't know we're coming."
"Of course he doesn't," Nejire says, "why would he? What's the plan?"
"We go around the building and land on the roof near the field," Izuku explains. "There's a hallway
leading to another section that's only three stories. If we're quiet and avoid making too much light,
we'll be able to watch them easily."
"And if we get caught?"
Izuku shrugs. "Detention. Are you guys ready?"
The answer is a resounding and eager yes. Izuku smiles as he kicks off into the air, grabbing Mirio
with Blackwhip as Tamaki clings to Nejire's angles with a pair of octopus tentacles. They climb
just a little, maybe two floors, and take off. It's a short flight, and the field behind the homeroom
building comes into view after just a few seconds. Peaking across the rooftop, Izuku can see that
there's already a crowd of students. They stand close to each other for the most part, keeping away
from Aizawa and hoping for some comfort.
"He hasn't broken the news yet," Izuku muses, hopping onto the roof and bringing Mirio up with
him.
"What news?" Nejire asks, making sure Tamaki has a safe landing before floating over to him.
"That one of them will be expelled."
"Excuse me, what?" Tamaki looks over at the crowd of students. Izuku can just barely make out
Aizawa singling out a student for the ball toss. "He's expelling one of them?"
"Yeah," Izuku confirms, walking over to the edge of the roof and kneeling down. His friends
follow and they all lay down on their stomachs. "It happens every year. You guys didn't have this
happen?"
"No. Our homeroom teachers were really chill and kind," Nejire says.
"Yeah. I mean, we all know Eraserhead's reputation, but on the first day…" Mirio trails off,
shaking his head.
"Oh, it's not a real expulsion," Izuku explains. "It's a symbolic thing. He picks the lowest scorer
and kicks them out for the day. They get to come back tomorrow. I think it's to get everyone to
take UA seriously."
"That's… intense."
"It works. Here, watch."
All eyes land on Aizawa, who tosses the ball to one of the students. Izuku isn't surprised to find
that it's Inasa who gets to throw. The boy took first, beating out Bakugo, the one in second, by a
margin of fifteen points. Inasa walks over to the circle, tossing the ball back and forth between his
hands. On Aizawa's signal, he winds up and throws the ball like a pitcher on a baseball mound. The
wind picks up immediately, pushing the ball forward and up in the air. It takes a full two minutes
for it to land, and when it does Aizawa holds up his phone.
"Three kilometers!?" someone screams. Next to Izuku, Mirio lets out a low whistle.
"That's some firepower."
"I'll say," Nejire agrees. "Holy… I just don't understand how."
"We've been training with Izuku for almost a year," Tamaki says, "outrageous displays of power
should be the norm by now. Especially because we're third years."
"Don't remind me," Nejire mutters. "I still feel like a freshman somehow."
"Shh." Izuku points down at Aizawa. "Here it comes."
They're too far away to make the words out, but the way the classes' demeanor instantly shifts from
eager to fearful tells them exactly what happened. Izuku watches as the tests begin in earnest. A
few of the students—Shoto, Inasa, Bakugo, and the other recommendation student—take
everything in stride. They're the type to coast through the tests easily simply because their Quirks
are powerful and offer a ton of versatility. Others, however, shake as they line up, nervously
hoping that someone else will do worse than them.
As the tests continue and gradually draw to a close, it becomes clear who will take first. Inasa has
the best Quirk for every single event and it's raw power is almost unmatched. Last place will
almost definitely be the short grape haired boy. He's just too slow and has trouble applying his
Quirk.
Other students also catch his eye. Yaoyorozu, the other recommendation student, is frankly
amazing. She doesn't quite have the jaw dropping power Todoroki and Inasa do, but her Quirk is
just so fascinating and useful that Izuku could probably fill a notebook with all of his thoughts on
her. Tsuyu also performs well, outshining a good chunk of the class with her dexterity with her
tongue and powerful legs. Students he's never seen before surprise him, too. Izuku did see the
entrance exam tapes, but they didn't show much. When one girl scores infinity on the ball toss and
when another boy uses his sentient shadow to throw him over the sandpit, he nearly gives away his
hiding spot with his muttering.
The tests end with the endurance run. Izuku makes a note that he and All Might will have to work
on long distance running and other forms of conditioning, because the students who can't use their
Quirks to move and even some that can drop out far too quickly. Thoroughly tired out, the students
gather below Izuku's perch, anxiously waiting for the screen to light up. From his angle, Izuku
can't see Aizawa, but he's sure the man is practically looming over his new class.
"Remember, the person in last place is expelled. No exceptions. When I press this button, you will
all find your name as quickly as possible. But first…"
A flash of red and a rustle of cloth. Izuku is bound up tight and pulled over the edge. He lands on
his butt, letting out a noise akin to a startled crow. Aizawa's capture scarf slackens, and he rolls out
of the bindings. Izuku quickly stands, brushing off his uniform. "Was that really necessary?" he
asks, standing between Aizawa and the first years.
"Yes. Spying on another class is against school policy."
"Since when?"
"Since I said so." Aizawa blinks, finally letting Izuku's Quirk free. "You'll have to be punished."
"What about my friends?"
"What friends?"
Izuku looks up at the roof, failing to find them. He gets the distinct impression that Mirio is
sharing a laugh with Nejire. There's no way Aizawa missed them. Izuku decides that he needs three
new best friends and a better teacher.
"What are your terms? Detention?"

"And have you drive me up a wall for two hours? I don't think so." Aizawa tosses Izuku the ball
used for the tests. "You're going to do what your underclassmen just did, and if you don't beat all of
them out, you're expelled."
Behind him, class 1-A gasps. Izuku only smirks, dropping the ball and unbuttoning his blazer.
"Alright. I guess I have some time to play around." His jacket hits the floor along with his shirt,
leaving him in a tank top and slacks. He ditches his belt as well, doing a few quick stretches just to
warm up. "Ball toss first, or…"
"Start with the hundred meter dash. I'll time you personally. Get a move on, too. I need another
nap."
Izuku nods, picking up the ball and walking towards the track. He cuts through the crowd of
students, smiling as they fail to hide their awe. He strategically ignores Bakugo, but nods to all the
other people he knows. "Hold this for me, will you?" he asks, tossing the ball to a boy with red
hair. He fumbles with it, looking at Izuku like he's some kind of god. Izuku chuckles and looks at
someone else. "Hey, Tsu, how's your family?"
"Everyone is doing well. They're all so happy I made it into UA."
"Yeah, me too. Good to see you're following through on your dreams. Shoto?"
"Midoriya."
"Good to see you. Don't work too hard after this, alright? I know your dad's gonna want you to get
another full set in but you're going to be working really hard in class tomorrow. That goes for all of
you, actually."
"You know our lesson plans?" someone asks, the whole class following him and Aizawa to the
starting line.
"Oh, yeah. I'm on good terms with all the teachers here. Well." Izuku looks at Aizawa, stepping up
onto the track, finally parting from the younger students. "Most of them. Are you sure you don't
want to use the bots?"
"I'm very sure. Line up and get it over with."
Izuku shrugs and walks up to the line. He stretches a little more, focusing on his legs. After a
moment he gets down, one knee up, one hand resting on the ground. As easy as breathing, One for
All pours into his body, flickering along his skin and dispersing into the air. He raises his hips,
looking forward. With his free hand, he brings his necklace to his lips for good luck. Not that he
needs it. After making sure Aizawa's ready and sending one last smile in the direction of class 1-A,
Izuku tenses, and launches forwards.
He starts off at fifteen percent, making sure he doesn't break the ground. But after a foot or so, he
kicks into the air, pushing up to his limit. At sixty-six percent, he clears the distance faster than one
can blink. Waving to the students and Aizawa a hundred meters away, he grins.
"How's that for shattering my old record?"
Aizawa, of course, doesn't acknowledge Izuku's gleeful taunt. Instead, he cups his hands around his
mouth and shouts, "You broke the freshmen."
Ah. Izuku laughs as he walks back over, taking in the class and their expressions of shock and awe.
Well, it can't be helped.
Chapter End Notes
I'll probably finish up the tests in the next chapter. Or maybe I won't and we'll just cut
right to TA! Deku content. It depends. Anyways, it's weird being at this point. Like,
after writing the dream sequence, I stared at the doc for a good ten minutes, wondering
what the hell I was supposed to do. It's just so weird. But a great weird. I achieved my
goal of getting to canon before the end of summer and I couldn't be happier. Thanks
for reading to this point. I hope you enjoyed. Cheers!
Join my discord!
Diamonds in the Rough
Chapter Notes
As of October 8, 2021 this chapter has been edited and reformated by my beta, Flauel.
"Holy hell…"
"I knew he was strong, but that…"
"Did anyone time it?"
"I didn't even have the chance to think before he took off. How…"
"Like All Might. My god, I almost don't believe it."
"Thanks!" Izuku stops just short of the crowd of students, looking back at the track. "I guess I
could've gone faster, but Cementoss is already way overworked, so." He shrugs, smiling at the first
years.
"Fucking Deku."
Izuku cringes internally. The words, muttered under one's breath, carry much further than what
should be possible. It's the exact situation he wanted to avoid, because Bakugo is right there, trying
to murder him with just his eyes. Izuku forces himself to stay steady. He looks the shorter boy in
the eye, holding his smile. "It's been a while, huh?" Izuku's eyes drift away subconsciously,
looking for a friendlier face to look at. Yet Bakugo holds his glare, unaffected by the stifled
atmosphere he created. It seems the rest of the class feels a similar form of discomfort, judging
from how they cough and look away. He finds someone in the form of blue hair and square glasses
frames. "Tenya! How's your brother?"
"Tensei is doing well," Tenya says, pushing up his glasses. His loud voice takes the focus off of
Bakugo, something Izuku is thankful for. "He wishes you would have stayed for longer, but he
understands your desire to move on to bigger things. I, however, am grateful for your advice! I
don't think I could have made it in without your help."
"I'm sure you would've been fine," Izuku says, trying not to notice how Bakugo continues to glare
daggers at him. "Forty-five villain points is enough. The rescue points only really boosted your
ranking."
"Wait, you saw the exams?" a boy asks. Izuku nods, looking them in the eye before being drawn to
his vibrant red hair.
"Yeah. I'm… well, I'm sort of a favorite," he says, trying not to come off as cocky or arrogant.
"And as an upperclassman, I'll be helping out occasionally. I saw all of your exam tapes, and 1-Bs.
You all did good. Inasa, congrats on first place."
"Thank you!" Inasa says, bowing low. "I'm so glad you convinced me to take the exam!"
"Me too. Anyways." Izuku looks at Aizawa. "What next?"
"Long jump."
Izuku nods and heads for the sandpit. Aizawa follows with all of class 1-A trailing behind. Izuku
lines up on the starting position, gauging how much power he needs to clear the pit. After months
of intensive training and careful study of his own power, doing so comes naturally, to the point
where all it takes is a quick glance.
"I'm ready."
"Then go."
Izuku lands on the other side the next instant, stirring up a small cloud of sand with the force of his
impact. He makes sure Aizawa records his score before smiling at the first years. They all rush
over, some hanging to the back. Bakugo is one of those that try to keep some distance, torn
between glaring and muttering at Izuku and looking away.
"That was—"
"Stop wasting time," Aizawa cuts in before anyone can start to gush. "There's only so much before
the next period. Midoriya, you know the rest of the tests. Skip endurance running and sit-ups. We'd
be here for hours if you actually tried. To the rest of you…
"Watch him. Closely, but not as fans or friends or whatever you think of him as. He is better than
all of you. Combined." Izuku watches as Bakugo recoils, clearly tempted to refute. But Aizawa
continues, not giving anyone the chance to get a word in. "You've seen his strength. It's comparable
to All Might, but that is not what's impressive. He and all of the other upper-year hero students
have sunk hours into fine-tuning their skills. Midoriya himself spends hours every day training to
fight at his fullest potential without damaging his surroundings. You should learn from that, and
how he applies himself. His skill far outweighs his power. Remember that."
"Thank you, sir!"
"Just get on with it."
Izuku plows through the rest of the tests, breaking both his own records from the start of his first
year and surpassing the scores of the first years. He thinks that there's a chance that he broke the
school records as well, but there's no way to be sure without checking. Either way, he leaves his
new underclassmen speechless.
100 Meter Dash: .07 seconds
Long Jump: >10 meters
Side-to-side jumps: computer error
Ball toss: infinity
"Not bad, huh?" Izuku says, tossing the phone showing his results back to Aizawa. "Infinity means
I put it in orbit, right?"
"Yes." Aizawa slips the phone back in his pocket and looks the first years over. "You'll be tested
on these next year, should you make it that far. Improving your scores is non-negotiable. Now."
The whole class cringes, suddenly remembering that one of them is supposed to be going home.
Izuku fixes a neutral expression and stands at Aizawa's side, ready for something he's seen before.
"Here are your results."
Half the class sags in relief while the other half shrugs it off. The highest scorers never had
anything to worry about—they could easily tell they'd be towards the top. But the rest are unsure,
and it shows. Izuku glances at the screen behind him and Aizawa, moving out of the way to make
sure everyone can see. He scans the crowd of students, looking for the person in twentieth place.
It's a boy, small and skinny with a large head and weird purple hair. There are tears in the corners
of his eyes, but his face is slack. Surprised and grief-stricken, he starts to sniffle. The students
around him are at a loss of what to do. Some clearly think about comforting him while others steel
themselves and look away. Izuku decides to keep looking at the boy. It's not the first time he's seen
something like this—everyone enrolled at or employed by UA knows about what happened to the
rest of his class. But it's still heartbreaking to watch someone having their dreams crushed.
"Mineta, leave. The principal will be waiting for you."
Mineta takes a whole minute to compile himself. It's hard to watch, and Izuku wants to help in
some way. But when he looks to Aizawa for permission, he sees a cold no in his eyes. Izuku backs
off, slightly saddened but also fully aware of what's to come. Hopefully, Mineta will bounce back.
Oto did it last year. And looking back, his performance was comparable to Mineta's.
"That's so harsh!" someone yells. The people around them back away, and Izuku sees an average-
height girl with pink skin and black eyes. "You can't just… I thought it was a joke!"
"I can and I did," Aizawa says. "I've done it every year of my teaching career. Midoriya's class lost
six on the first day, though that was mostly due to their behavior."
"But—"
"'That's unfair?'" Izuku guesses. The students looked at him, shocked. "I thought the same way,
three hundred and sixty-five days ago. It hit me hard. That was a classmate you all could've gotten
to know. But he wasn't good enough. Civilians die every day, not because villains are good at
achieving their goals, but because heroes aren't good enough to stop them. Mediocrity is
responsible for more funerals than malice. It's just the sad truth that some people aren't ready, even
if they passed the first exam."
"That's rich coming from you." Izuku locks eyes with Bakugo, holding firm. "Talking shit about
someone you don't even know while you're sitting up high with that ridiculous Quirk."
Izuku blinks, at a loss. "You—"
"What did I say ten minutes ago?" Aizawa butts in before Izuku can call Bakugo out on his
hypocrisy. "I don't care one bit about how flashy and cool your Quirks are. Midoriya was on thin
ice his first day because he hesitated to use the flight aspect of his Quirk. Power isn't an issue. How
you apply it is. I'll tell you now that I was lying when I said I planned to kick the lowest scorer out.
Stats are important, yes, but as a benchmark. Not as an end-all ranking system. I expelled Mineta
because he failed to use his Quirk to its fullest in its current state."
"But we've never been able to use our Quirks before! The entrance exam was the first time we
were actually allowed to go all out!"
"And you could've learned from that," Izuku says. "I know I did. Just because you passed and got
in doesn't mean you're home-free. Each and every one of you should've gone over what happened
and thought about how you could've done better before applying those ideas to the test. I
understand that it's a stressful situation, but you all want to be heroes. High-stress situations are
going to be your life."
"It's still too harsh!"
"Cry me a river, or rather, don't." Aizawa crosses his arms over his chest, looking thoroughly done
with the conversation. "You're enrolled at UA now. Our second and third year heroics classes are
made up of future top heroes. All of them made it through rigorous training and lived up to strict
expectations. They had the mindset to do so, and you're going to do the same. We don't settle for
anything less than the best. Suck it up and keep working, or I'll expel all of you like I did last year."
Aizawa's words manage to quell the dissatisfaction, or at least get the students to calm down
outwardly. However, Izuku catches a few with nervous eyes and fidgety posture. He can't blame
them. He was shaking for a while early in his first year too. They'll get over it soon, and more
importantly they'll learn to work hard all the time. Izuku knows that 1-A and 1-B are equal. He
even evaluated some of the students and helped Nedzu with the roster as an assignment. But now
he'll have to give the edge to 1-A, simply because they're now aware of how U.A and, by
extension, the world operates. Now all they need is their twentieth classmate back and a good
night's rest and they'll be ready for their second day.
"I'm going to report back to Yagi," Izuku says, letting One for All crackle to life along his skin. He
snaps up his blazer and shirt with Blackwhip. "Sir, if you need anything just ask. My schedule is
mostly empty for today."
"Then keep yourself busy. Day one is always a drag." Aizawa pulls out his phone and taps it. The
screen with all the scores shuts off. "Spar with your friends or talk with Nedzu."
"You're not my homeroom teacher anymore," Izuku reminds.
"And yet I can still expel you."
Izuku snorts. "Yes, sir." He turns to class 1-A. "Good luck, all of you. You'll see me tomorrow or at
lunch!"
He takes to the air after that, leaving class 1-A to wonder how he can take the threat of expulsion
so lightly. They won't have to wait long for their answer, at least. The next day will be even better.
[x]
"Up and hold… hold… hold… hold… up!"
Izuku thrusts his hips forward, slamming into the bar and guiding it with his hands. He keeps it
close to his torso, letting the power from his glutes carry it to the resting position on his
collarbones.
"Front squat. Pause at the bottom."
Keeping his breathing even, Izuku slowly sinks to the floor. He focuses on keeping his balance. He
technically has light weights on, but by the time he's through with the set, it won't feel that way.
Stopping at the bottom, Izuku makes sure that he doesn't squat as far as he can. Doing so would
give him rest. Instead, he dips a few degrees below parallel, pausing to keep the weight on his
thighs.
"Jump."
He pushes off the ground, keeping the weight secure in his grip. His feet land, and he bends his
knees to absorb the shock. He gets back into a standing position. Shaking out his legs, Izuku takes
a few deep breaths and looks at All Might. He's done this a handful of times, and each and every
one of them started out easy, because that's how a burnout starts—at least in his plan. Easy until
the dial is cranked up to eleven and he's left a sweaty mess on the floor.
"Down. Left leap. Left leap. Right leap. Jump squat. Down and pause. Hold, two, three, four, five,
six, up, and press. Back squat, thirteen reps. Twenty lunges. Good mornings until I say stop. Stop.
Hack squat, five reps. Hang clean to push press. Stop. Deadlifts. Romanian deadlifts. Front
squat…. And done."
Izuku throws the bar down, nearly going with it. He bends over to rest his hands on his knees, but a
pair of skinny hands pull him up by the shoulders. A cold towel is thrown around his bare
shoulders, and a water bottle is forced into his hands. Izuku chugs the whole thing, forcing himself
to stand up straight as All Might watches him carefully. When he's done, Izuku uncaps the bottle.
He pours the remaining water over his hair. His shoulders sag and his eyes close in bliss.
"More weight?"
Izuku sighs, throwing the bottle down and wiping his face and chest with the towel. "Let's get it
done."
All Might takes Izuku through another three sets, each shorter but more intense than the last. By
the time he finishes the last one with a few barbell curls, Izuku feels ready to collapse. His forearms
ache. He didn't get a single chance to set the bar down, and he's fairly certain that his palms are red
and raw from how they burn with every adjustment he makes to his grip. "Fifteen, sixteen,
seventeen, eighteen, nineteen, twenty. Drop it!"
The bar crashes into the ground. Izuku falls to his knees, bending forward to lay down. The floor,
sadly, is hardly welcoming. It's covered in sweat and scuff marks from his sneakers. It still feels
better than standing, so he'll take it. All Might, however, won't.
"Up, Izuku. Take a walk, ease your heart rate down."
"Nah."
"Yes. Up. Come on, you have an audience."
Izuku groans, forcing himself to his knees before standing up. He wobbles, nearly falling back
down. He breathes deeply for a moment, eyes closed with his hands resting on top of his head. He
starts to take a few steps, gently working his tired and sore muscles. All Might's words sink in a
moment later.
"Audience?" Izuku's eyes flutter open, and he turns towards the entrance to the weight room. When
All Might told him to do his work out at school so he could spend more time going over final
preparations, he expected to have a large window to rest and recover before the actual first class.
But forty students stare at him along with a pair of teachers, all in varying levels of interest. Some
eye up the racks of weights nervously while some stare at his bare torso without shame. Izuku
coughs and tries to kick his nerves to the curb. "What's up?"
There are a few murmurs, but most of the students stay stock-still. Izuku looks at All Might. "Do
you want to get started early?"
"We came for a quick tour of the facilities," Vlad King says, stepping in front of his class. "You'll
be able to keep to your schedule. Eraser and I just wanted to make sure the kids know the
difference between a barbell and a dumbbell."
"Then you can go get cleaned up, Izuku." All Might rests a hand on his shoulder before quickly
pulling it away. He wipes the sweat off on his slacks, backing away. "Can is used lightly. You
must shower."
"You don't have to tell me twice. See you all in a bit!" Izuku leaves, waving to the first years as he
heads for the locker room. He takes a quick shower. The freezing water feels amazing on his
overworked muscles, and he struggles to find the will to get out from under the water. But he
towels off anyway, slipping into his gym uniform before stopping by the fridge near the door. He
pulls out a post-workout shake and heads back to the weight room.
The bell signaling the end of homeroom rings right as he stops beside All Might. The students, who
were mingling around the gym, creep over. All Might gives them a warm smile, bowing his head to
the students. "Hello," he greets, "I am Yagi Toshinori, your physical education teacher. This"—he
prods Izuku forward—"is my assistant, Midoriya. If you don't know, he's one of UA's top students,
my personal protegé, and the hero-in-training, Deku."
Izuku waves. "Hi."
"Yes. Now, what were your PE classes like in middle school?" All Might asks. The students
hesitate to answer. "Don't be shy. I'm sure you all had similar experiences."
"Well, we had to do all those tests," one girl from 1-B says. "Pushups, bent arm hang, a 5K. That
sort of stuff."
All Might nods. "Measuring the average fitness of the country's youth, yes. Anything else?"
"Running," another 1-B student speaks up. "We had to run laps if we messed up."
"Cardio is often the go-to for elementary and secondary PE courses." All Might scans the class.
"What else?"
"Planks?"
"Ah! There we go." All Might snaps his fingers and points to Tsuyu. "Bodyweight exercises. When
you're young and prepubescent, lifting free weights can hurt your growth plates. You're simply too
small and underdeveloped. If you're cautious, however, you can lift weights, but getting hundreds
or even thousands of children to do so is nearly impossible. So your curriculums are mostly
focused on moving your own body.
"Pushups, sit-ups, bodyweight squats, wall sits, pullups, all of that stuff. It's a fine way to keep fit,
but we're going to take it a step further."
"In past years, UA allowed students to exercise outside of class on the honor system," Izuku says,
picking up where All Might left off. "Most did, but it produced mixed results. Not everyone is
willing to put in the time and effort, and the level of exercise you get during your heroics classes
just isn't enough. So as heroics students, your PE class is mandatory strength and conditioning
training."
"Ew, conditioning."
"Yes, it will not be pleasant," All Might chuckles. "Hard work often isn't. But you'll get used to it,
and the first few sessions will all be relatively easy. For most of you. Now!" All Might raises a
hand. "Because I know there's some, how many of you have been in a weight room before?"
A few raise their hands. Most notable are the four recommendation students, though a handful of
regular applicants also claim to have lifted before. In total, there are seven. Not bad considering
how the first years were last year in terms of preparing before the first day.
"Excellent," All Might says, gesturing for the students to lower their hands. "You seven, ask your
trainers or coaches to provide a history of your training. You'll be asked to switch from your
previous programs to mine, which I understand might be a little off-putting, but I promise it will be
better in the long run. Now, today—"
"Excuse me, sir!" someone exclaims. All Might pauses his explanation to look at a boy with spiky
red hair.
"Yes, young Kirishima?"
"Uh. What if we don't have a coach or a trainer?"
"Talk to Midoriya after class," All Might says. "He'll help you get it figured out and relay it to me.
Where was I?"
"Day one," Izuku says, smirking a little. "Y'know, explaining the first session?"
"Right. Day one." All Might takes a few steps towards the nearest rack, resting a hand on the bar.
He taps a finger against a sheet of paper attached to the metal with a magnet. "You'll be following
this list in groups of two. You're not allowed to go with people in your class. Mix it up a little. Get
to know each other. If you're inexperienced, go with someone who's done this before. I get that
there aren't enough for all of you, but Midoriya will be walking around to help out. Now get to
work. Remember to stretch!"
It takes a few minutes, but everyone finds a rack and a partner. Izuku makes sure every person
from class A is with a person from class B. There are a few interesting pairings. Bakugo furiously
tries to get away from a horned girl from 1-B, and Tsuyu stares blankly at a skinny blond with a
maniacal laugh. A few groups try to start their workout immediately, but Izuku steps in and helps
them stretch properly. Everyone else follows the more experienced students, and the first plates are
put on the bar five minutes later. They start their first exercise of the year: squats.
"Awase, right?" Izuku asks, approaching a rack and leaning against it. The boy and his partner—
Ojiro—straighten as they look at him.
"Yeah," Awase says, standing up with the barbell resting on his shoulders.
Izuku nods. "Rerack the bar quick, alright?"
"Sure."
Izuku watches as he guides the weight onto the rest, gesturing for him to step back. Izuku gets set
under the bar so he faces the two boys. He pushes up. The weight is practically nonexistent, even
after an intense workout. "So, you're bending forward a lot when you come up, and your feet are
too far apart. Heels at shoulder width, and sit back as you go down, and keep your back straight. I
find that it helps if you try to look at the ceiling while you do it. Watch." Izuku bends his knees,
demonstrating his squatting form in slow motion. "You go as low as you can, and come up quick!"
Izuku explodes upwards, jostling the bar and almost jumping. Awase and Ojiro shift back,
surprised.
"Got it?" Izuku asks, stepping backwards and racking the bar.
"Yeah." Awase trades places with Izuku, awkwardly resting the bar on his shoulders. "Thanks."
"Sure thing. Now show me again."
Awase does much better, clearly taking care to follow the advice given to him. Izuku sticks around
for a little bit longer, watching him finish the set, and then Ojiro starts after him, switching from
lunges. He makes a few quick corrections before moving on. Izuku probably gives the same
lessons twenty times before everyone moves on to the next set. Not that he minds. This early on in
the program, form is the most important thing to get down. He'll gladly talk until he's blue in the
face if it means less injuries in the future.
"You should get some dumbbells," Izuku suggests, resting a foot on the bench as Kodai from 1-B
pauses her step-ups.
"My legs are already dead."
"Nah, stand up straight." Kodai does, crossing her arms as Yaoyorozu watches behind her. "See,
you're not shaking or anything. You're fine. Push yourself. Grab some five-kilo weights and keep
going. Yaoyorozu, work on the hip raises while she does step-ups. We gotta keep things moving,
alright? And get a weight. Dumbbells are best—rest it on your hips. At least twenty kilos. You're
pretty strong."
"Yes, sir."
Izuku flinches and Yaoyorozu flushes. "None of that, please. I'm barely older than you. Midoriya
or Deku will be fine. Get back to work!"
By the end of the weight session, they're all exhausted. Some wonder out loud about if it was
actually an easy day. It was. Probably the easiest they'll ever do, mostly because they had ample
resting time and freedom to stretch how they wanted. But neither Izuku nor All Might tells them
that. It would be like telling someone afraid of heights that the plane they're on is going to climb
even higher. They'd get cold feet or falter, and then freak out. It'll be better to ramp up the intensity
gradually and get them to the plateau before they even realize it.
"How are we feeling?" All Might asks after Izuku regathers the students. The response is a
collective groan and complaints about sore muscles. "I figured as much. Good on all of you for
going hard. That's what we want to see here. Izuku?"
"Sir."
"You take them for their finisher while I talk to Eraser and Vlad," All Might orders, waving the
two teachers over. Izuku feels a tinge of sympathy when he sees how cross Aizawa looks and the
outright disappointment of Vlad King. Clearly, they're not impressed with the first day of lifting.
"The full run?" Izuku asks, aiming to get the intensity dialed back. He wants them to get better, not
die.
"The whole thing." Aizawa looms over his students, making several adjust their posture. "Don't
take it easy on them, either. They've got a recovery day tomorrow."
Izuku nods. "Fine. All of you, follow me."
It takes a while to get them all outside. Some whine and drag their feet the whole way, and Izuku
lets them. It's not like it'll change the outcome. They'll still be dead tired and begging for a good
meal, which is the goal. He burnt himself out not an hour ago, and they're about to do the same.
Just with running and not weights.
"Okay, if you need to, retie your shoes. We're not stopping until we make it back here. Got it?" A
few mutter and one kneels down to adjust the knot of their sneakers. "I said, got it?!"
"Yeah!" a few more yell. Izuku nods, appreciating the energy.
"Good. What we're going to do is run all the way to the front gates."
"What in the—"
"I'm not done yet," Izuku interrupts, making his voice just a little bit stern. The students settle
down. He continues: "All the way to the gates and back in a single-file line. That's two and a half
kilometers. You're doing a 5K. Easy, right?"
"No," someone groans.
"Well, too bad 'cause there's more. Every time I yell 'go', the person in the back of the line will
sprint to the front. The person at the front can run as fast as they want and the rest of you have to
keep up. Ready?" There's a pause, and eyes shift around. No one wants to do it. Well, a few do, but
they're the minority. The rest want to collapse. Izuku won't let them. "Are you ready?!"
"Yes, sir!"
Izuku flinches. "Deku is fine. Just… Tenya, lead them off."
Feet hit the ground over and over again, lacking any sense of rhythm. Up front, Tenya tries to set a
brisk pace, but the second person in line lags behind. "Up the pace, Koda! Right on his heels!" The
large boy huffs and puffs but closes the gap a little. It forces everyone behind him to kick it up a
notch. Izuku flies beside them with Float, keeping an eye on how they run. No one is on the verge
yet. A few try to cheat and slow off, but Izuku makes them keep the pace. They're only at what he
considers to be a light jog, and while he'd like to cut them some slack, Aizawa wouldn't. So Izuku
drops back to the end of the line where some stragglers try to go at the bare minimum.
"Faster, all of you. The quicker you run, the sooner it's over. C'mon, push!"
They get a little faster but not enough to satisfy him. Izuku drops back even further, slowing down
to cruise beside the person at the very end. "Hey, Mineta." The boy jumps, nearly loses his footing,
and screeches. Izuku makes sure he's steady before speaking again. "Get closer to Monoma, would
you? Less distance to cover when you sprint, yeah?"
"Oh, god," Mineta whimpers, along with a few choice curses. "Do I have to?"
"Yep. C'mon, Plus Ultra."
"I didn't think I'd have to do this when I made it in," Mineta groans, speeding up.
"You wouldn't have last year. This is all new. It's good for you, though!"
"Easy for you to say. You're built like a statue of Hercules!"
"Only because I did this," Izuku explains. "I used to be skinny. Like, really skinny. I'll have to
show you my middle school pictures sometime—the difference is staggering. But I got like this"—
Izuku shrugs off a sleeve and flexes his bicep—"by doing a workout plan similar to this. You can
do the same if you work hard enough."
Mineta keeps silent, focusing on his running. Izuku takes it as a sign of mental fortitude. "Alright,
go!"
It takes Mineta a solid three minutes to get to the front. The person after him does it in thirty
seconds. Tenya and the recommendation students do it in twenty. Each and every student is at a
different level physically, but that's not what he cares about. All Might can get them into top form
—any experienced trainer could—but Izuku cares about testing their minds and their willingness to
break their limits. So when they reach the walls of UA, he doesn't let them stop. He flies ahead,
has the gates opened, and makes them run around the block.
He would have much rather done it a few days later. In his eyes, it would've been best to get them
firmly on the rug before pulling it out from under them. Doing it on day one is borderline cruel. It's
what Aizawa and Vlad want, though, so he makes all forty of them run an extra five kilometers,
turning their brief 5K into a ten-kilometer run. By the time they make it back, most are red in the
face and panting like dogs. Some take it well, being used to exercise. But some look dead. Uraraka
—a brown-haired girl from 1-A—seems ready to faint. Izuku gets her a water bottle and a power
bar, taking her aside to softly suggest she eat something nutritious for lunch.
"Nope, stand up, all of you! Hands on your head and walk!" They obey, probably thinking he'll
make them run again if they don't. Izuku gives them a solid two minutes to recover before having
them circle up and stretch. Legs shake and jackets are tossed aside, soaked in sweat. They make it
through the routine at a snail's pace, and Izuku has them bring it in closer.
"How do we feel?"
"Awful."
"I'm gonna die."
"My legs are shaking. Fucking shaking!"
"Why would you do that?"
"It was in the plan. Eat good, all of you. And drink water. Not juice, not soda. Water. No junk food,
either. You'll regret it, trust me. Not bad for the first day, though."
"Not bad?" someone says, appalled. "I think I'm going to fall if I take another step. Just, why…
five kilometers was enough."
"You all made it through ten, though," Izuku says, much to their annoyance. "I'm serious. If I told
you we were going for ten, some of you wouldn't've pushed as hard as you did. But you ran like
you were going for five the whole time. And you made it back. It's an accomplishment you should
be proud of. Some of you have never done anything other than regular PE before."
"Between Aizawa yesterday and you today, I'm beginning to see a common theme with UA," Jiro
from 1-A mutters.
"There's a reason for everything here," Izuku says gently. "It sucks having to watch someone get
expelled and it sucks even more to be expelled. But you all learned from it."
"No, we didn't."
"Expulsion? What the hell happened in 1-A?"
"Every year, Aizawa expels someone on the first day," Izuku explains. "He then has them
reinstated. Every. Year. Without fail. It… it's not my practice, but I'm a product of it. It's basically a
wake-up call. The zero pointers in the exam do it for some, but not all. Heroics is serious stuff.
People die all the time. And you just have to keep going because most of the time? The job's not
done yet. You've gotta make it through the fight. You have to push through and win, no matter
what. You just have to get through the day.
"And even if you don't take it as a metaphor for death, how many of you in 1-A went home and
thought about your powers? How you could be better? What you could do so it wasn't you in that
spot next time?" The silence is telling. "Exactly. And it's a similar concept to today. Not everything
is going to be as long as you think it will. That's just how life is. You think you got the villain, but
his buddy bails him out and now you've got two of them to deal with. You're already tired and
ready to go home. But you can't. You have to dig deep and get through it without faltering.
"Everything we do here is for your benefit. I, personally, think you should've been eased in a little
more. But Toshinori calls the shots, and I trust him and the other teachers. They want the best for
us all, and the people we'll be protecting. It feels like hell, but it's for the best, okay? UA makes
great heroes, but it can only take those willing to do the work. Understand?"
Their response is disjointed and uneven, but they're all sure of themselves. A few smile but all have
a twinkle in their eyes. "Alright," Izuku says, backing up and opening the door to the weight room.
"Head in. Shower—cold water's best. Remember to eat well, at lunch and for dinner. We'll talk
about diet tomorrow so Toshinori isn't going to be strict on the first day. Just don't go to bed
hungry, alright?" Izuku pats them on the shoulders as they head in, giving a few high fives and
words of praise. When Kirishima walks by, he grabs the boy's forearm and pulls him aside.
"Stay with me, alright?" Izuku glances over at the redhead before returning his attention to the line
of students. "Nice work, Shoto. Shoda, get some rest. See you later, Tsu. Bakugo." The last one in
line slaps his hand away, but the sting is only skin-deep. Izuku ignores the barbed words that
follow and plasters on a smile.
"Do you know him?" Kirishima asks carefully.
"We went to the same middle school. Our relationship is… strained."
"Ah."
"Yeah. Anyway, you said you worked out before making it in, right?" Izuku asks.
"Yeah," Kirishima confirms, "but I didn't have a coach. I just sorta winged it."
"How so?"
"Well, for the first week or so, I just did the big lifts." Kirishima awkwardly scratches the back of
his neck. "Squat, deadlift, bench press, all of those. I started to add in more as I went on."
"Alright. Walk me through your most recent week of training…"
It only takes a minute, but Izuku gets enough information to understand what kind of shape
Kirishima is in. By all means, he's fit, but there are a few areas where he's lacking. His back, for
one. He hasn't been working his lats and traps nearly as much as his lower back. And he could do
with less heavy sets, too. He's very much a 'lift big, get big' sort of guy, which isn't the best for the
fit and lithe heroes All Might is trying to make. But it's better than nothing, so Izuku praises him
for hitting the gym.
"Thanks. A lot. I… you really inspired me, you know?"
"I'm glad I could." Izuku smiles and pats Kirishima on the shoulder. "And I'm very glad you didn't
just try to work on your Quirk. Because some people…"
"Yeah, I know." Kirishima fidgets and looks away. "Um. There's no good way to say this, but... Do
you remember me?"
Izuku narrows his eyes, taking in Kirishima's features. "No, I'm sorry."
"That's fine. It was almost a year ago." The boy chuckles, taking Izuku's hand to shake. "After the
Sports Festival, on a train. You talked about your body just moving and it—well, it made me think.
I had this moment where there were people I could help and I just… froze. Then I heard you,
and..." Kirishima shrugs, smiling and gesturing at the scene around them.
"Kirishima Eijiro," Izuku recalls. "Standard heroics exam. Twenty-eight villain points, fifty rescue
points. Not bad for someone who froze."
"W-well, it's all thanks to you."
"No. I just got you to flip the switch." Izuku firmly pokes a finger into Kirishima's chest, watching
as his face lights up in joy. "You did all the hard work."
Chapter End Notes
Been a while, huh? Life got busy which happens sometimes. It sucks, but hey, I got
this out in under two weeks. I'll take it. I hope you enjoyed, cheers!
Join my discord!
Heads and Tails
Chapter Notes
"After that I talked to a few other first years. Just to get to know them. They're all pretty nice."
Izuku pulls one arm out of his costume, ignoring how the heavy fabric flops to the ground, wet with
sweat and grime. Beside him, Mirio nearly folds his cape before unbuckling his boots.
"You worked them hard, huh?"
"Not by choice," Izuku says. "I wanted them to take it easy for the first week. Let them get used to
the rug before Yagi and I pull it out from under them with a few conditioning cycles."
"I feel like that would be even more cruel," Nejire muses, running a brush through her hair. "Not
that what you're doing is bad, but giving them a soft first week before breaking out the heavy
conditioning workouts would feel worse, in my opinion. And didn't you start out cleaning
thousands of kilos of trash a day?"
"You're over estimating the weight, but it was a lot," Izuku admits. "Though not everyone needs to
be like me. I had to get as fit as possible in the year before the exam. Otherwise I wouldn't be able
to use my Quirk at all."
"Not even at one percent?" Tamaki asks.
Izuku shakes his head. "I was a twig at that age. Anyway, I had to work ridiculously hard—and still
do, really—to get where I needed to be. The first years don't. Slow and steady progress will get
them there."
"But you still advocate for ramping up the intensity."
"Yeah, to front load. Yagi wants to start them off right at eleven and keep going at that pace. I'd
rather they start at three, hit ten, then go back to a solid 6. But it's not my call, so I'll just go along
with them." Izuku hops out of his uniform completely and slips into his uniform slacks.
"To be fair, UA's not about slow and steady." Nejire smoothes out her skirt before tying her
shoelaces. "Plus Ultra and all that, right?"
"Yeah, and the first years understand that. Mostly." Izuku leans against the lockers, fiddling with
his necklace as he thinks. "They didn't shy away from the work, though they could've complained
less."
Mirio snorts. "Good luck getting a bunch of teenagers brand new to the gym to not complain about
exercise. I bet there's a few of them in there that haven't really gotten off the couch ever."
"I know, and it's frustrating. They all have potential, they all want to achieve their dreams. But
some of them didn't work for it before today, and it's sad to see."
"At least you're working to fix it," Tamaki points out. "No matter what they'll end the semester
better than they started."
"Yeah." Izuku looks around and picks up his dirty costume. All four of them are dressed in their
uniforms. "Do you guys have work today?"
"Nah, Sir wanted me to take the day off."
"Fatgum cut my hours in half for two weeks."
"I took time off for the new semester."
Izuku blinks. "We're all off?"
Nejire smiles, a little eager. "Looks like it."
"Well." Izuku checks the time on his phone. There's only a half hour left in the day, and they don't
have any classes. By now they're usually getting ready to head in for work. "Wanna shower and get
something to eat?"
No one's dumb enough to say no. They quickly wash up and drop their costumes off to be washed
before digging around for more casual clothes. With Izuku practically living at U.A, and his friends
spending large amounts of time there as well, all four of them have a few sets of clothes on
standby. They're mostly uniform parts. Extra slacks here, a bundle of ties, and plenty of shoes. But
there's also some street clothes, mostly old and worn out stuff to wear if their uniforms get ruined.
The combination of attire ends up being quite odd, mostly because it's stuff they would never
normally wear.
"Are those supposed to be skinny jeans?"
"Shut up," Izuku says, red in the face as he pulls at the denim. "I got these three months ago. They
should fit!"
"I mean they do," Nejire says, chuckling as she watches him pointlessly attempt to loosen the
fabric. "They fit pretty well actually."
"Subtle," Mirio stage whispers, zipping up his jacket.
"Yeah, unlike you."
"Hey, now, you—"
"If it helps, Izuku," Tamaki says, shaking one of his legs, "I'm in the same boat." His pants are way
too short. A whole three inches of ankle can be seen between the top of his socks and the bottom of
his pant legs.
Mirio snorts. "You got those in what? Eighth grade?"
"Don't remind me."
"Yeah, I'm pretty sure I got most of this stuff two years ago," Nejire says, playing with the hem of
her shirt. "Anyways, are we ready?"
"I think so."
"Yeah," Mirio agrees, "but hang on a sec." He turns around and opens his locker. He rifles through
for a moment before pulling out a baseball cap and a pair of sunglasses. He tosses them to Izuku.
"Here."
"Thanks?" Izuku flicks the hat, putting it on and resting the sunglasses on the brim. "I appreciate it,
but why?"
"Future top hero, remember?"
"Ah."
"Yeah. Let's get going. And try not to stir up a storm of fangirls in the middle of a dinner rush. I
don't think the waitstaff would forgive you."
For the most part, U.A is surrounded by residential neighborhoods. There's a few parks and the
occasional storefront, but it's mostly houses and apartments of the expensive variety. But about two
or three kilometers out it suddenly shifts to a commercial centered area. A few malls, lots of
offices, shops, and, most importantly, restaurants.
"Good grief that place is busy."
Izuku whinces hard enough to make the edge of his sunglasses dig into his cheeks. A line for a
steakhouse comes out the front door and extends halfway down the block, and all of the people in
it look eager to eat. "We're not going there."
"Yeah, definitely not. What about that one?"
Izuku looks across the street at a large and simple looking restaurant. It looks vaguely western
themed and the signs in the windows promise hot and delicious food. "Sure. It can't be too bad."
It's not. The thing that is, though, is being the first customers in a rush. By the time they get done
ordering, there's ten people behind them. It's almost funny. Almost, because Izuku can hear the
frustration of the cooks in the back all the way from their seats near the door.
"Do you think we should've toned down our orders? I feel awful."
"Eh, they get paid to make food," Nejire says, bouncing in her seat across from Izuku. "It'd be like
us getting a bunch of calls at eight on a Friday. It sucks having to work so hard but it's what we
signed up for and we're getting paid."
To Izuku's right, Tamaki sighs. "I still feel bad. Maybe I should've gone with something simple."
"You're alright." Mirio leans back, looking over at the window into the kitchen. There's a long shelf
running along a wall where a few orders of food sit. People walk up and grab them, leaving their
receipts in a small basket. "You're allowed to enjoy yourself even if it inconveniences other people.
It's not like you're doing anything wrong."
"I guess."
"Order for Yagi!"
"I'll get it," Izuku says, standing as he hears the name he gave the cashier.
"I'll go, actually," Nejire insists, grabbing his forearm and guiding him back down. "Mirio too.
There's a lot of food since, y'know, you paid for all of it."
"I make too much money."
"And you give most of it away like a good hero, so sit and let me get our plates."
"Fine." Nejire smiles and stands, dragging Mirio along with her. Izuku shoots a fake glare at his
blond friend, who snickers and mouths whipped as he heads over to grab the food.
"He's one to talk," Izuku mutters. "Calling me whipped."
"Yeah," Tamaki agrees, smiling a little as he leans forward in his seat to watch his boyfriend make
small talk with the cooks as he gathers the plates. "It's funny, though."
"Of course it is."
"How could it not be funny?"
"When I'm the one being made fun of."
Tamaki snorts, shaking his head as Mirio and Nejire approach the table, plates in hand. "It smells
super good," Nejire says, sliding Izuku's food in front of him. "Like, stupid good. I think there's
magic at work."
"A Quirk is more likely," Izuku muses, poking at his meal. "But also more illegal."
"Yeah but if the food's good enough, who cares about it being legal?" Mirio asks, sitting down.
"Like, look at this. It practically belongs in a commercial."
"I think I'm gonna get some water from the fountain," Izuku says, looking over towards a drink
dispenser. "You have fun with your photogenic burger. Does anyone else want a drink?"
"I'll take some water too."
"Same."
"Add ice to mine, would you?"
Izuku nods, getting up from his seat to walk over to the fountain. He keeps his head down, making
sure the curls of his hair stay under his hat. He'd be wearing his sunglasses if he weren't inside.
Then again, no one seems to be actively studying other people. He doesn't get so much as a second
glance until he dispenses some ice from the machine. His hands itch to take off the cap as he fills
up four cups of water, but a large cup being thrust under the spout for root beer changes his mind.
Casually, he looks over and down. The person to his left is a girl. She's not particularly interesting,
other than her hair, which is spiky and blonde and done up in a bun towards the base of her skull.
Izuku swaps the cups he's filling out for another one, prompting the girl to look over. He catches
her eye, taking in the gold for a brief moment before politely nodding and looking back at his
drinks. Then root beer splatters on his shoes.
"Sorry!"
Izuku lurches away, spilling a little water on the floor. He looks over at the girl. She's red in the
face, hands covered in soda with a weird expression on her face. Part worry, fear, and so something
else Izuku can't place. He sets his drinks down on top of the dispenser and reaches for some nearby
napkins.
"It's alright. These are an old pair, anyway." Izuku bends down and mops up some of the soda with
the napkins. He gets most of the liquid off his shoes while he's at it, and the girl joins him and tries
to clean it up. An employee comes around with a mop bucket soon after and tells them to move
away. Izuku awkwardly grabs the four cups of water and heads back to his table, bidding the girl
goodbye as she continues to apologize.
"A fan?" Nejire asks, accepting her cup as Izuku sits down.
"I don't know." Izuku slides into his seat next to Tamaki, taking a quick sip of water. "Maybe. She
seemed really jumpy, but that could be for any reason. And I'm disguised, so…"
"Not well," Mirio points out. "We did the equivalent of throwing a lampshade over someone's head
and making them stand in a corner. Anyone who looks longer than three seconds will figure it
out."
"I'm not that popular," Izuku tries to argue. "I just have mildy distinct features. Curly green hair
isn't common."
"Izuku, love, no." Nejire shakes her head as she pops a fry in her mouth. "That's not how it works.
You're trending on Twitter once a week. There's pictures of you all over. Most of the country
knows what you look like. All the hat's doing is preventing anyone from looking twice, and it's
failing at that too if the girl over there is a sign of what's to come."
Izuku looks over at the girl who spilled soda on him. She's carefully filling up another cup, stealing
looks at him every few seconds. The fact that he's looking back doesn't phase her. She tops off her
drink and takes a sip before putting a lid on and walking out the door with a to-go bag. "That's one
person and I've been fine all afternoon."
"Sure, but you can't argue your fame," Mirio says.
"Yeah," Izuku agrees, returning to his meal. "It's just hard to grasp."
"Yeah, and we'll be dealing with it soon as well," Nejire reminds. "If not during this school year
then right after we graduate. Last year's graduating class already has some fame. Not as much as
you, though, Golden Boy."
Izuku huffs and shakes his head. "The school board only likes me for the money I make them."
"We know."
"At least they're trying to get the first years to be like me? In a good way. Like, hitting the gym and
stuff. I don't know, it's just weird."
"What are the first years like, anyway?" Tamaki asks. "I know you said that they're alright, but that
wasn't specific."
Izuku thinks for a moment. "It's only been two days, but I'd call them driven. There's good talent in
both of the classes, but all the students want to work. Even if it's not in the gym it'll be in the
training halls."
"That's how most classes start out, though, right?"
"Mine didn't." Izuku smiles a little, reminiscing. "Half of my class didn't want to work at all. It was
actually pretty awful, looking back on it."
"Yeah, well—"
"Hey." Izuku looks up to see a boy leaning against the side of a nearby booth. He's dressed
athletically, with running shorts and a tank top. He looks about seventeen, though that doesn't
really mean anything. Izuku allows himself to stare for a moment before furrowing his brow in
confusion.
"Can I help you?"

"I guess you could," he says smirking as he sits down in the empty booth. He leans forward,
resting his elbows on his knees and propping his chin up with the heel of his palm. A bracelet falls
down his arm, the wooden beads clacking together as they do. He looks forigen, now that Izuku
really looks at him, but his Japanese is perfect. "Do you have a name?"
"Last I checked," Izuku says, looking back at his friends. He jerks his head at the boy, trying to
silently ask if they know him.
"That's nice. I've got one of those too." The boy brings Izuku's attention back to him, reaching ho to
tostle his hair. "Care to share some info? I don't bite. Much."
"I think you already know his name," Nejire says, shifting so she's facing the boy. She's not tense
or visibly angry, but she does look a little defensive. "And I think that you also know that he'd like
a little privacy."
"Awe, c'mon." The boy eases back, resting his arms on the table and back of the booth. "It's just
me, and we're in a public restaurant. There's nothing wrong with a little chat."
"And what do you want to chat about?"
"Nothing with you." The boy looks away from Nejire. His eyes bore in Izuku's face, unblinking. It
sets something off in his mind, not quite alarm bells but something quite close. " You, however, I
wanna get to know. Do you prefer Deku or Mi—"
"We're trying to eat here," Tamaki speaks up, leaning forward to look at the boy. "We don't want
any trouble. Izuku doesn't want to deal with fans. We just want to take an evening off and relax."
The boy twitches as Tamaki refers to Izuku by his given name, and his eyes drift over to the dark
haired boy. "And who are you?"
Tamaki flinches a little but holds firm. "It doesn't matter."
The boy raises an eyebrow, tracing the wood of the table with one of his nails. "I think it does.
Izuku, hmm? That's a c—nice name."
"I'd rather you didn't use it," Izuku says, speaking up for himself. "Could you please leave? I'm just
trying to enjoy time off."
The boy looks at him for a moment before standing up. "You've got a cute face." He looks right at
Tamaki. "It'd be a shame to waste it." He leaves, and Izuku feels a weight come off his mind.
"What a creep."
"He was totally trying to flirt."
" Trying is the key word. He failed on every level. Granted, that's not always a bad thing. Izuku did
it and it was really cute. But he just gave off creepy vibes."
"Definitely. I felt like he didn't have the right vibe, you know? Like his personality didn't match his
appearance. Maybe I'm just being weird. What do you think, man?" There's a pause. "Izuku?"
Izuku looks over at Mirio before continuing to watch the boy head for the door. "Just a sec."
Danger Sense bubbles to life in the back of his mind, fine tuned from hours of practice. Gently, he
uses it on himself. Nothing. He cycles through his friends. Nejire is fine. It's the same for Mirio.
Tamaki, however, sends alarm bells ringing. It's nothing immediate, but rather something lurking in
the future. Hazy, undefined. Izuku doesn't like the picture it paints.
"You think he could be a stalker?"
"I… I don't want to think he could be one," Nejire says slowly. "None of us do. I'd rather he just be
a socially inept, slightly creepy fan. But…"
Izuku nods and takes a bite of food. He searches his memory. "He feels familiar," he says honestly.
"I think I've seen him before. Maybe. It's hard to say."
"If he is a stalker, what are you going to do about it?" Mirio asks.
"Up the security of my house, probably." Izuku thinks for a moment. "Not that it needs it since I
live there, but I'd be worried about Mom."
"You're pretty relaxed right now," Mirio observes. "Shouldn't you be a little nervous?"
Izuku shrugs. He knows why he's acting like it's nothing major even though potentially having a
stalker is, by all accounts, something to fret about. But there's a two hundred year old supervillain
after him. A simple stalker is nothing in comparison. However…
"I'll talk to Nedzu about it. This has to do with my fame and he's the one I talk to about that stuff,"
Izuku says. "We'll figure something out. In the meantime do you guys wanna pack up and hang out
at my place? That guy kinda… yeah."
"I wouldn't mind that," Nejire says, standing. "I'll see if they have boxes for us to take home. I don't
want to waste the food."
"We'll go too," Mirio agrees, double checking with Tamaki. "The more the merrier, right? Hey,
maybe we can watch a movie, too? Star W—"
"Don't you dare."
Nejire giggles, playfully flicking the brim of Izuku's cap with her index finger. "'I know.'"
Izuku watches as she heads up to the counter, beet red. He looks away from her, but the way her
lips curl into a smile sinks into his mind along with the dimple on her left check. He forces himself
to glare at Mirio, who smiles brightly. "I hate you."
Mirio doesn't even have the decency to laugh, though his grin somehow widens. "I know."
[x]
"A stalker, hmm?"
"Yes. Male, roughly seventeen to eighteen years."
"Though with Quirks…"
"It doesn't mean much, I know."
"And you think it could be romantically motivated?"
"Nejire said he was trying to flirt but didn't know how. I… I'm not the best at recognizing that
stuff."
"I wasn't either at your age. Or even later in life, come to think of it…"
"Yes, but I also think it could be… Him. "
"Ah. Could you explain why?"
"Well, it's not him himself, obviously, but wouldn't it make sense to have agents hanging around
UA? He'd be a fool to not keep tabs on me, and he definitely isn't a fool."
"I see what you're getting at, and I agree. You're probably being watched, at least when you're not
here."
"Exactly. He probably wants to know my habits, not to mention how useful he'd find my
attachment to my friends to be."
"You're training, too. You don't do much outside of UA, but your patrols with Endeavor?"
"I don't go as hard on patrol as I could. I almost never go above thirty percent anymore and I only
use the same six or so supermoves."
"I see. But the blasts from your training…"
"He could calculate the yields from my larger attacks, but unless he has a mole in UA or Endeavor's
agency, he has no clue what I'm truly capable of. Just estimates based on your power and the
readings. He's almost as blind as we are."
"You spoke to Nedzu about this already."
"I did. He recommends that I ease off my high percentage training or move it underground. And
stop going out as much."
"You don't sound happy about that."
"I need to train every percentage regularly, otherwise I could lose my familiarity with them. It
wouldn't be bad inside, but I'd miss out on certain moves. It's just not viable for the long term if we
plan on fighting him once you've recovered."
"And what about not going out?"
Izuku slumps. He looks away, feeling guilty. "I know I should. I know it's best that I hide my
strength and mannerisms. But I don't want to."
All Might nods, patting him in the shoulder. "I understand. I felt the same way about going to
America back in the day. You don't want to let him rule your life."
"Yeah. It… it would feel like I'm afraid of him, which I am to an extent. But I don't feel scared
walking around town with my friends." Izuku shrugs, searching for the words to describe his
feelings. "I have One for All. I'm at sixty-six percent, knocking on seventy. I know it's reckless and
selfish, but I don't want to stop being with my friends and doing fun things with them."
"There's plenty you could do at home," All Might suggests.
"I wouldn't be the same."
"I know."
"I just want to enjoy myself a little. I wouldn't be able to do that if I were to play it safe."
"You'd be putting your friends at risk as well," All Might says cautiously.
Izuku grimaces. "I know that. I've already put them at risk, just by going out in public and posting
pictures with them. Every time they go home alone is a chance they'll be targeted. If I'm with them,
though, there's less of a chance. The fact that he hasn't gone after me yet means he's not fully
confident in attacking me."
"So you'd be some form of ward," All Might muses, stroking his chin. "I see. Think on it for a few
days, then. You said Young Amajiki is the one in the most danger?"
"Yes. I'm not sure why, though. But they're all potential targets."
"Of course." All Might sighs and slips his hands into his pockets. "I'll speak to Nedzu about this.
I'm worried for you just as you're worried for your friends. We'll figure this out. In the meantime,
your TA duties and patrols will keep you off the streets. If you want to go out, fine, but stay close.
You…" he looks away, unsure. "You're strong now. Very strong. Realistically, the only way we
could bail you out if you were in trouble is to get as many good heroes on the scene as fast as
possible. Staying close to UA or Endeavor's agency will make that easier. Until I'm healed and at
full strength, we'll have to be cautious."
"Alright."
"If you could think of a way to warm your friends, I'd do it."
Izuku steps back. His shoes squeak against the tile of the floor. The noise quickly fades in the
confines of All Might's office. "What… what do you mean by that?"
All Might holds up a hand. "One for All does not have to be revealed. I'm just saying that telling
your friends you have powerful enemies would be a good thing. The last thing you want is for them
to be caught unprepared."
"I… yeah." Izuku relaxes. "Sorry, I just… you caught me off guard."
"Would you?"
"Would I what?"
"Tell them."
"I… I'm not sure. One for All is…"
"It's your secret, you know. It has been for some time."
"It's our secret."
"Perhaps, but you're the future. Your actions are more important than mine. It's your choice to tell
them."
"I don't think I will," Izuku says after a moment. "If I do, they'll… they'll want to help, and I love
them for it. Really, I do. But it feels wrong. It's… it would feel like telling someone… I can't even
think of an analogy, but if I tell them, what can they do? Help me and risk their lives even more or
not help and potentially leave me to fend for myself. Which probably won't happen," Izuku quickly
adds. "You're not going to die. Nedzu, Tsukauchi, Aizawa—you'll all help me. But there's no way
they wouldn't try to help, so telling them would be like forcing them into helping me. I don't want
that."
All Might blinks. "Very well. I implore you to think on this even more. Decisions like this
shouldn't be made in a day or even a week."
"Yeah, I agree."
"Good. Let's get to class, shall we? There's so much to teach today!"
Izuku opens the door for All Might and follows him down the hall. It's a short jaunt to the weight
room, and when they get there they have two minutes before the bell rings. With everything
already set up, Izuku opts to tidy up some of the racks to keep busy. The doors open right as the
bell rings, and the first students trickle in, already wearing their gym clothes. By the time the late
bell rings, everyone is nervously awaiting instruction. All Might prods Izuku forward.
"Make sure you're all early next time," Izuku says, looking at the students who were last in. He
doesn't do it with ill intent, but rather to make sure they know he knows. "A minute before the
second bell at least. We want you to be ready as soon as possible." Izuku looks back at All Might,
silently asking if he should continue.
"We didn't go through our warm-up routine yesterday," All Might says, picking up for Izuku.
"Normally, the warm-up is the first thing you learn, but I wanted to give you all a taste of the
weights first. You'll start with light cardio—" a few groans cut him off. Izuku allows his
disappointment to show.
"Guys, don't. It's not that bad. We really do mean light. Fifteen minutes of a light jog. You're
allowed to go at your own pace. Don't complain when you haven't even put in the work."
All Might nods. "Thank you. The warm up starts with a light jog, fifteen minutes or a few laps—
whichever we have time for. Then we'll do dynamic stretches and some speed and mobility
exercises. Izuku will take you through today and all of next week, but you'll be expected to do it
yourselves as the year progresses."
"The warm-up is really easy, you'll get it down after a few days," Izuku encourages. "It's a
simplified version of mine, with less exertion since most of you aren't as fit as me." Some of the
students perk up but a lot are still grumbling about the cardio. Izuku smiles and shakes his head
before walking right through the crowd and to the door. "Follow me! I'll set the pace and it will be
slow."
Too slow, really. Izuku sets the speed so low that he could probably walk at the same rate. Some of
the more fit students are clearly bored with it, being used to more intense exercise. But the weakest
students are pushing themselves, just a little. And that's fine. In the figure, they'll be lifting lighter
and running more. All Might finds endurance to be better than raw strength, which Izuku agrees
with. So the best course of action is to get the ones far behind caught up in terms of how far they
can go.
"Stop here," Izuku says, feeling his phone vibrate in his pocket. The students all halt, some bending
down to rest their hands on their knees. "Stand up and walk back, hands on your head if you feel
spent. When we get back feel free to have some water before we stretch and above all, listen to
your body. I didn't when I was just starting out and I missed a week's worth of workouts because of
it. We only have so much time to whip you all into shape, and each moment is precious."
He follows them back to the gym, talking with a few along the way. He checks in on how they
feel, mostly asking about their muscles. A lot are sore, a fact that doesn't surprise him. A few
aren't, either because they took the proper precautions or because they didn't work hard enough. He
recommends cold showers again but gets a lot of dubious looks in return.
"Alright, so, the first one is called a lot of different things." Izuku puts one foot in front of the
other, scanning the class to make sure they're all watching him. "I just call it grabbing grass since
that's what you're doing a lot of the time. You just bend forward at the hips and kick one leg back."
Izuku demonstrates, going slow so they can see. "It's not hard," he says, standing up straight again,
"but if you're worried about balance, just support with your hands. You should feel this in the back
of your leg—hamstrings to be specific."
Izuku watches all forty of them stretch, correcting a few things here and there. He goes through the
routine slowly, starting with the upper legs and glutes before working down to the calves. Then he
shows them how to stretch the muscles of the chest and back before moving on to arms. Then All
Might has them run through a short maneuverability course, making them lunge under hurdles,
jump over boxes, and then taking them through a few ladder drills. It's all simple stuff meant to
build body coordination and to prepare them for more intense exercises. Exercises they won't be
doing today.
"Alright, gather around," All Might calls, waving them all in. He waits for a moment before
speaking, just until they've settled down. "You all performed well yesterday. Considering what we
expected on day one, anyway. If you're ever sore or tired, it's not a crime to take it a little easy. Not
taking care of yourselves, however, is something we can't have. You should all be stretching post
workout. You should be getting good sleep. You should be eating well. That's what we really want
to hammer home. Tomorrow will be another hard workout with cardio to finish. Today's a recovery
day."
"Is… is that a good thing?"
"I feel like I'm going to be sore for the next week…"
"Can I just lift? I don't need to recover."
"Yes it's a good thing, that's why we're doing this, and no," Izuku answers. "In that order. You'll be
doing yoga. Don't laugh—I see you, Kaminari—it actually helps. I do it pretty often and so do
other heroes. You'll just follow along with a video and get out of here a little early. Don't get used
to it though."
"Indeed," All Might agrees. "Days like these will be few and far between. I don't want to slow
down and neither do your homeroom teachers. This is just a way for us to show you how to recover
on your own. And go over the syllabus. Izuku?"
"Right here," Izuku says, casting a whip out and pulling a stack of papers into his palm. "Take one
and pass the rest around. There's exactly forty."
"You'll be divided into two groups based on performance," All Might explains as the papers work
their way into the hands of the students. "They'll both be a mix of A and B class students, one led
by me and the other by Izuku. You're not allowed to use your Quirks in class—we want to train the
body, remember? There'll be other times for you to work on your powers, rest assured. Anyway,
the basics are all on that sheet."
"It says we're not going to be doing hero training for another week!"
"My brother went here and he said they had combat exercises on the second day."
"I just want to learn to fight!"
"Easy, now," Izuku says, holding up a hand. "They changed the curriculum based on… me, I
guess. They want good, fit heroes in training first and foremost."
"The stuff we'll do here will help set you up for live combat training, something that went afoul
early on last year," All Might continues. "The school board wants to do it differently this year, and I
think it's an improvement. Now, set those aside and find a spot on the floor. Izuku, if you could
grab the projector…"
The yoga goes about as well as yoga with a room full of teenagers could go. Some actually do it, a
lot—mostly the boys—make a joke of it. But Izuku doesn't stop them. They'll pay for it
themselves, and muscle soreness will teach the lesson better than he could. After the routine wraps
up, All Might sends them on their way. He lets a few of the students stay back to get another lift in,
urging them to go light. Izuku chooses to do some homework, trying to figure out a few complex
English phrases. But then, the door opens.
"Izuku!" Nejire waves as she walks in, uniform a little disheveled and hair damp. Izuku smiles and
sets aside his notebook, meeting her halfway and taking her in his arms. It's clear she just got out of
the shower. The smell of apples tickles his nose as he rests his chin on her head. "How's it going?"
she asks into the crook of his neck.
"Good," Izuku says, looking around. The students working out have paused to stare at them. He
arches an eyebrow at one of the recommendation students from 1-B—Honenuki—who quickly
resumes his deadlifts. "Pretty smooth sailing so far considering it's day two. How about you?"
"Third year classes are great," Nejire says, pulling away and looking up at him, hands holding his
forearms. "They're hard, but also super fun. Walk with me?"
Izuku looks at All Might, who nods. "Sure. Where to?"
"Just around," Nejire says, leading him out the door. The fresh air greets them, and Izuku takes her
hand in his. "I have a half hour break between now and my next class. It's more like fifteen minutes
now, since I showered. Anyway, that class probably takes a lot of planning, right?"
"Oh, yeah," Izuku says, laughing a little. "It's ridiculous. We've got two curriculums to write, forty
personalities to consider, mountains of school board requirements, and… well, the list is endless if
I'm honest."
"Yeah I'm sure." She squeezes his hand, looking straight ahead. "You probably have meetings,
right?"
"Every day," Izuku confirms.
"Yeah. And they're private right?"
"I… yeah? Not terribly private but Toshinori and I keep things between us."
"I see. You talk in that office behind the weight room, right?"
"I… wait."
Nejire pulls him into a random building, ducking into a door and shutting it behind her. "Yeah. I
overheard."
Izuku licks his lips, looking anywhere but at her. The pattern of the floor tiles becomes very
interesting. "How much?"
Nejire gently yet confidently grabs the side of his face. Izuku lets her guide him into looking her in
the eyes. She's serious, something he's seen and gotten used to. But there's a curious aspect to her
expression, reserved where it's usually bubbly. "What," she asks, voice low and secretive, "is One
for All?"
Chapter End Notes
Can ya tell I'm loosing my free time? No? Well I am. Work, school, sports stuff, band
rehearsal... I'm running out of them to write, and I'm bummed. Covid gave me time to
create and have fun. It gave you this fic. Now the schools around me are opening and I
don't have hours to myself to write anymore. But I'll still try. I want to finish this. I
love writting, and I hate leaving things incomplete. So updates will slow but never
falter. This'll get done one day.
Discord? Discord.
Reveals
Chapter Notes
"I don't have a clue?" Izuku cringes as he speaks, knowing full well it's useless to even try. "… how
much did you hear?"
"Mr Yagi was talking about you being a ward while going out with us," Nejire says, still calm. Her
hand trails down to his neck, cupping the skin. She tilts her head. "Mr Yagi isn't just some personal
trainer, is he?"
"That's an entirely different can of worms." Izuku takes her hand from his neck, lacing their fingers
together and bringing it to his side. "A very different, somewhat connected, hyper secret can of
worms."
"Alright. What's One for All and why should you be in hiding?"
"There was nothing about going into hiding." Izuku closes his eyes and sighs. "They just want to
keep tabs on me. We're worried about…"
"You're in danger," Nejire states, tightening her grip on his hand a little. Izuku opens his eyes to see
a face full of worry.
"A little, yeah."
"Izuku," Nejire says, voice full of warning.
"I don't want to lie to you."
"Then don't."
"It's… I wish it were that simple."
"How complicated is it?"
Izuku thinks for a moment. "Not at all and very much so at the same time."
Nejire chews the inside of her cheek. She pulls her hand away, only to move it to the small of his
back. "What are you comfortable with telling me?"
"I…" Izuku takes a deep breath. "Have you ever heard of All for One?"
"Yeah, in textbooks and stuff," Nejire says, and from how she tenses, Izuku can tell she's already
on to it. "He was a figurehead. It's not completely certain if he was actually what he claimed to be.
But he did exist."
"Yeah," Izuku agrees. "And, um. Well, he's still alive."
"Oh."
"Yeah." Izuku looks away before turning his attention to Nejire. She hides it well, but he can tell
she's nervous. She shifts, but not like normal. There's no ease in her movement, no bubbly energy
that he's long since gotten used to. Instead she's jerky. Uneven. She lists to one side before quickly
righting herself.
"I can see why you wanted to hide that. And why you're still being a little closed off."
"It's heavy, I know." Izuku lowers his head and Nejire pulls herself in, tucking the crown of her
head under his chin. "I nearly threw up when we figured it out."
"We?"
"There's a handful of people that know. Nedzu, Recovery Girl, that detective I work with, Gran,
Yagi…"
"Yagi isn't just some regular guy, is he?" Nejire asks. "I mean, there's more to him but the way you
talked with him… he's got to be important.'
"He's, uh… that's not my secret to tell, in all honesty," Izuku says, wrapping his arms around her.
"Toshinori is his own person, and even if he's…"
"A father figure?"
"Even if he's that ," Izuku continues, "it's not my place. All for One and One for All, on the other
hand…"
"One for All is something you have."
"Yeah."
"It's your Quirk. It has to be."
Izuku nods, letting the lighting flood his skin. He feels Nejire relax into him. He watches as the
energy crackles off of his skin and runs along her arms. "I'm his opposite. I… I haven't been
training to fight him exclusively, but in the past few months it's been the main focus."
"Can't All Might do it?"
Izuku squeezes her tighter, letting One for All fade and fizzle out. "He tried, Nejire. All Might
fought him, years ago. Everyone in the know thought he won, and he did. To an extent. But not
really. All for One's empire fell and he was badly injured, yes, but All Might was, too. He… he's on
vacation right now, trying to recover. There's surgery, Quirks, and… The plan is to have us fight
him together."
"When…"
"I don't know." Izuku takes a deep breath as Nejire's nails dig into the cloth of his shirt. She pushes
against him, and he backs up into a wall. "Once All Might's back up and running."
"You could die."
"Yeah."
"Don't say it like that. Please."
The corners of his lips turn down. Guilt washes over him, traveling from where her head rests on
his chest to the tips of his toes. Gently, he strokes her hair. "I'm not going to lie to you," he
reminds, "but I'm sorry to tell you. It's… I'm not afraid. Not as much as I should, maybe. There's
still a chance, though. No matter how safe we play it or how strong I get, it's always going to be
there. But I'm working hard to make that chance as small as possible."
"If All Might couldn't do it…"
Izuku smiles. "That's the thing. One for All is… it's stronger than All Might. I'm only at sixty-six
percent and I can perform at or just below his level. If I keep growing, if I manage to use it at one
hundred percent without the backslash… and combine that with being at All Might's side…"
Nejire pulls away, still close, but far enough back to look up without craning her neck. "But that
takes time , Izuku. It… you're really popular. You even said that he's watching you. All for One
knows you're not at that level yet. He knows that All Might isn't at full strength either. What's
stopping him from attacking now? While you're weak?"
"All Might is away . Weakened and gone from the public eye. He and All for One, they… there's a
grudge there. A bad one." Izuku grips her shoulders, moving his hands down and lacing his fingers
over the small of her back. The grudge runs much deeper than she knows, but explaining it would
require a lot more time. And with how Nejire clings to him, clearly hurt and afraid, he can't bring
himself to prolong the state she's in.
"It's a little foolish, on his end, but All for One wants victory a curtain way. Otherwise he'd have
killed All Might already. And me as well. He wants to cut us down at our peak for everyone to see.
A symbolic victory as well as a strategic one. And since All Might is away for now…"
"You have time to prepare," Nejire finishes. She frowns and relaxes a little. "Still."
"I know. It's messy, complex, and pretty scary. I… I've had nightmares about him in the past.
That's why I was late to school a few times."
"How long have you known that he's alive?"
"We found out right after I started doing work studies again," Izuku says. "I… before, I tricked
myself into believing he was even though we had no evidence. It was rough, and I was right to be
scared."
"Are you?"
"Still scared?" Nejire nods. Izuku chews his lip. "All Might says that if you can bear it, you're not
afraid. I'm worried. I have doubts. I know I could die. I know you and everyone else I love could
die, too. But I'm still smiling. As wrong or insane or foolish as it is, I'm pushing forward in spite of
those feelings." He smiles, catching his reflection in her eyes. "I'm not going to let him break me
without ever coming face to face with him. Or even after. I'm going to succeed where All Might
failed, and take his place as the world's pillar. It's what he's trained me for. It would be wrong for
me to falter, even once, even against All for One."
Nejire holds her breath for just a moment. All of a sudden she jerks up on to her tip-toes, pulling his
head down to kiss him. It's rough, and his eyes are wide open as she takes him. He soon relaxes,
sighing as her nails lightly dig into his scalp. She pulls away a moment later, dead serious as he
tries to catch his breath. "There's more to this, isn't there?"
"You've no idea."
Nejire nods. "Alright. I… I trust you. You hear me? I trust you." She pokes a finger into his chest,
packing enough force to shove him into the wall again. "You don't have to tell me everything. You
don't have to tell anyone anything. But you're smart enough to know that carrying that weight alone
could hurt you. Listen to your feelings, okay? I'm here for you. Mirio, Tamaki— everyone is. I
don't care that you don't want us involved, we love you. Even if we're not going to fight him, we
will support you. Let us. Let me. It's the least you can do for all the worry you'll cause us."
"Alright."
"Good." She kisses him again, with more restraint this time. "You work hard and win, without
hurting yourself. You're insane for smiling, and I'm definitely insane for thinking you're right about
it. So don't you ever falter."
"I'll tell you everything one day," Izuku says before kissing her back. You deserve it, he doesn't
say.
"My mom told me not to pick a hero," she says against his neck a moment later.
Izuku laughs. "It's a good thing you don't care about her, then."
They kiss a lot more after that, something that makes them tardy. They get detention for it. Not
that Izuku would ever complain.
[x]
"Is that a hickey?"
Izuku jumps, nearly ripping through every single floor of the tower. Nearly. "Shoto. What did I say
about dramatic entrances?"
"You're the one who didn't see me." Shoto looks up from his textbook, clearly bored with the
subject of art history. Bored, but relaxed. Not stifled by the atmosphere of his father's agency like
he usually was a few months back. It's something that makes Izuku proud, but the way the boy still
feels ice cold shows that there's still progress to be made. "Anyway, my sister won't be happy."
"Your father won't be happy," Izuku corrects.
"So it is a hickey."
"You know what a hickey is."
"Yes."
Izuku sighs and rubs his neck. "Yeah, it's a hickey."
"I already knew that."
"You… How were your classes?" Izuku asks, done with the entire conversation.
"Boring."
"I see. You should be getting some action next week," Izuku says, walking over and leaning
against the desk Shoto's working at. "Just a few days of workouts and then the combat and rescue
classes will start."
"Should you be telling me that?"
"There's no harm in it. Everyone has a syllabus." Izuku gets up off the desk and adjusts his
costume. He's due for a refit soon, the shoulders are a little tight. "Anyway, I'm going to go up and
get ready for patrol. Don't work too hard now, alright?"
Shoto hums as Izuku walks over to the elevator and hits the call button. The younger boy utters a
soft goodbye as the doors close. Izuku closes his eyes and relaxes against the wall, taking in the
calming music. It hasn't been a heavy training day, for him or the first years. In fact, it was a sort of
recovery day for Izuku as well. At least in terms of reevaluating his training regimen. He shared a
few words with Aizawa during his detention. The man is, of course, in favor of easing off on the
training. Izuku understands it a little, but he knows he needs to keep going at the fastest pace
possible. Nejire said it herself.
There's almost nothing stopping All for One from attacking. There's his grudge and the possibility
that his plans aren't ready. That's it. Nothing else that they know of can reasonably delay the
inevitable. It's just a fact. One that gets Izuku on edge, ready to move even when he has faith in All
Might's words and Nedzu's plans. All for One won't attack. Even if it would be smart to. Even if,
by all means, he should. Izuku himself would attack early. He's even thought about taking the fight
to All for One before the Sports Festival. But All for One won't attack. Or at least he hopes.
It's horrifying, even if he can deal with it. It's why he feels so tired when he shouldn't. It's not
Nejire's fault, and he wouldn't blame her even if it was, but she's the reason he's thinking of it.
Maybe it's a good thing. Thinking is hardly every bad, and he would've had to come to grips with it
sooner or later. He doesn't have to like it, though. And boy does he hate it.
In a perfect world, he'd reach one hundred percent right as All Might fully recovered. Then they'd
spend a few months training, since All Might would be rusty and unused to the power. After that it
would only be a matter of finding the right time to strike. Either by baiting All for One into
attacking or by hunting the man down. But the likelihood of that happening is slim.
The doors ding as the elevator car halts. Izuku moves before the doors are fully parted, full of
nervous energy. He's not as focused as he should be. He should mediate, or even shorten the patrol.
He's already late, though, and while Endeavor's patience has grown, it's still rather short.
"You're late."
"I sent you a message." Izuku stands in the door of Endeavor's office, ramrod straight as the man
glowers behind his desk. The annoyed look is incomplete without his fiery beard, though the hard
lines of Endeavor's face do enough to show his displeasure. "You knew I got a detention."
"For tardiness, a recurring theme today." Endeavor walks around his desk, igniting his suit but
keeping his face free of flame. He looks down at Izuku, scanning for any weakness. There's none
to be found. After being around heroes—or rather seasoned fighters—it's become second nature to
put on a strong front. Any anxiety and nervousness is to be shoved aside the moment the patrol
starts. Or in this case, before the briefing.
"Then we shouldn't waste time," Izuku says, meeting Endeavor's gaze. There's a harshness in his
eyes, though more subdued than the man would want him to think. He doesn't feel cold. Where
there was once a juxtaposition between Endeavor's Quirk, reputation, and style and his overall
demeanor, there's something new. Rough around the edges and fragile. But still there.
"Very well." Endeavor waves a hand, casting a jet of flame to hit the top right corner of the
window. Immediately, the frame flips open. "Let's go. And Deku?"
"Yes, sir?"
"It would be wise to cover your neck, lest you trigger a flurry of tabloid articles."
It's the cold air that makes Izuku's cheeks pink as they take flight. The cold and nothing else.
Nevermind the fact that he adjusts his respirator to better cover his neck. It's important to cover the
weak point, anyway, and that's the thing's main function. He can't even remember the last time he
used it to actually breathe. Oh, who is he kidding, it's totally to hide the hickey. Not that he'd ever
tell anyone that.
The patrol starts off pretty normal. Normal for Endeavor and Izuku, anyway. They stop five cases
of villainy in the first ten minutes. Each. But given how fast either of them can move, and how
efficient they are in their captures, it's not all that surprising. Still, the familiarity of it offers some
comfort. There hasn't been a change in the amount of villain activity. Well, there has, but nothing
outside the new average since All Might took his leave. If it were too calm, then he'd be nervous.
But it's just normal. If All for One's making waves, he's doing so carefully and quietly.
To be fair, that could also be bad. But moving quietly means that he can't pull anything big. All for
One is a master of deception, but even he can't work in the dark like he can in the light. Not if he
wants to stay hidden. And he no doubt does. So small waves. Ones that Izuku can deal with, at the
very least one at a time. He lets himself relax because of it, just a little. Enough to give his muscles
a rest from being so tense since his talk with Nejire.
"Over here! Help!"
Izuku dashes over without a thought, finding a small-scale battle happening in the streets of Tokyo.
Two heroes, three villains. Neither side is in a good position. Civilians are keeping back. No
damage to the surrounding buildings. He doesn't even talk. There's a brief moment where Izuku
glows, just bright enough to catch the attention of the people below. None get to see him before
he's down on the ground, kicking up the already broken pavement. Blackwhip surges, binding the
villains in the blink of an eye. The world seems to hold its breath.
"Is everyone alright?"
The answer is an enthusiastic yes. Too enthusiastic. Izuku gets mobbed by the crowd of onlookers,
nearly being blinded by flashing cameras. He smiles, at ease with Danger Sense keeping tabs on
him and the crowd. He signs a few autographs, just to kill time before the police arrive.
Realistically, the other heroes could contain the villains, but they look a little banged up. A little
back up never hurt anyone. Then he feels it.
Right behind him there's someone with a gun. Casually, Izuku turns, his smile still bright and easy.
Danger Sense does a good job of pinpointing exactly who it is, but Izuku forces himself not to look
at them. Instead, he casts a wide, sweeping glance at the crowd of people. They've dispersed a
little, dripping from fifty or so to around twenty. His eyes gloss over a man in a hoodie. He doesn't
miss how the garment is too baggy for him or how his hands are shoved into the front pocket.
"It's been nice meeting you all," Izuku says, projecting his voice a little as One for All floods his
body. The man with the gun approaches swiftly, face set in a neutral expression. Izuku locks eyes
with the man, sending him a dazzling smile. Or what he hopes is one. Even as he reinforces his
skin to the point where no bullet could penetrate it, it's still hard to look his future shooter in the
eye. What he wouldn't give to have a form of danger sense listed on his Quirk registry form. "But I
really have to go now. Duty calls and all that!"
The pocket of the man's hoodie protrudes just a little. Whatever gun he's got, it must be small.
Izuku looks away, keeping a mental mark on the civilians. They're in no danger. Tensing himself,
he smiles and braces for impact.
Being shot again doesn't hurt at all. It's loud, though, and chaotic. People scream and dive away,
and the man with the gun tries to fire into the back of them. Izuku calmly snaps up the gun with
Blackwhip and knocks him out. He looks down and finds something small and white stuck to his
costume. He plucks it out with two fingers. It's a bullet with a needle.
This time, Izuku holds a stern expression as he waits for the police to show up. A few of the
civilians try to get a look at where he was shot, but he pushes them back. The other heroes, though,
force Izuku to let them examine the area. They find nothing. The force of the bullet was completely
negated by the durability of One for All. It's a miracle that the thing didn't shatter completely.
Upon close inspection, he sees that the needle is bent out of shape and the drug inside failed to
discharge. It's something the police are very pleased with when they finally show up.
Izuku manages to get away from the crowd that forms after that. He quickly sweeps over a few
more streets. He doesn't expect to find anything related to the gunman, but if there were to be an
accomplice, they couldn't be far. But there's nothing out of the ordinary, and Izuku finishes up his
cycle before calling in to Endeavor. Like usual, the man calls for a meeting before they start the
next batch of streets.
"I heard you responded to a gun threat," Endeavor says in lieu of a greeting. Izuku lands and
perches on top of a small water tower, looking down at the man.
"The gun threat more responded to me then the other way around."
"Explain."
"He only fired after I was distracted. I couldn't tell you if I was specifically targeted or if I was just
a hero he thought he could hit."
"Did he reveal anything?"
"I knocked him out before he could. I didn't want to risk anything with his Quirk being unknown
and the possibility of another weapon."
"I see. An attempted murder of a hero, then."
"I don't think so."
"Why."
"The bullet wasn't normal," Izuku explains, "it was like a tranquilizer dart. A needle point with a
container of liquid. Maybe a poison?"
"Why bother with poison?" Endeavor argues. "The fastest acting toxins still take time to act. And
the small dose a bullet could carry would be much weaker. An ambulance could get a hero to the
hospital before the effects kicked in."
"So what could it have been?"
"A drug of some kind." Endeavor walks over to the rail of the building, gazing out at the city.
"Trigger, perhaps."
"The Quirk enhancer?"
"Yes."
"It feels a little backwards to enhance the power of the person about to arrest you."
"Trigger alters the mind, some batches more than others." Endeavor looks back at Izuku. "Not
every dose can be exactly the same. The mental side effects vary greatly. Perhaps they wanted to
hit a hero and drug them into hurting civilians."
"It would be better than using it on themself," Izuku says, picking up on what Endeavor's getting
at. "They could get away in the chaos and the Quirks of heroes are much stronger than those of
regular civilians."
"But what would the greater goal be?"
Izuku casts a look out at the city around him. Despite it being rush hour, it's not as busy as it should
be. Less people walk the streets. Those that do are carefree, but even the shops and restaurants
appear to be half full. "Mistrust," Izuku says, "if heroes go berserk and hurt people, the whole
system could crumble. All Might left us with a promise to be back if things got bad, but no one
knows what that means. A handful of seemingly isolated incidents wouldn't look like much, even
though the damage to the country's psyche would be disastrous."
"There's already a few heroes that make use of Quirk enhancers," Endeavor says. "It's illegal, but
they're hardly ever caught. However no hero would last long on trigger. It's too noticeable, too
risky. The few that have been caught with less stigmatized PEDs were shunned and their agencies
downsized soon after. If multiple heroes are 'caught' using trigger, or go on a rampage because of
it…"
"The fact that they were shot full of it would make them less of a villain," Izuku argues. "No one
would blame someone who was attacked like that."
Endeavor huffs. "You assume that they'll be given the benefit of the doubt. In a villain attack,
what's the first thing to reach the news?"
"Hero names, villain appearance, and location," Izuku says.
"And the nature of the scenario," Endeavor adds. "Even if the victim's tongue was as black as coal,
there'd still need to be testing done. Civilians would only see a hero going on a Quirk enhanced,
frenzied rampage. Not that they were shot full of the stuff."
"It's a conspiracy, then," Izuku decides. "The one gunman went down too easily for this all to make
sense. If the trigger was strong enough to cause a rampage, then—"
"You're forgetting something," Endeavor interrupts. Izuku pauses his rambling to focus on him.
Pale blue eyes hold steady, assured but guarded. "We don't know if the bullet contained trigger.
The police will take a day to find out."
Izuku purses his lips. "Even if it's not trigger, someone tried to drug a hero with something strong."
Endeavor nods. "Indeed. That's why we'll be picking up the case. I was going to teach you how to
follow one from scratch, but now we'll be dealing with two."
Izuku shrugs. "Fine by me. What's the other one?"
Endeavor points south where the skyline starts to change from towering highrises to lower suburbs.
"Tokyo Zoo is that way. They recently had a break in. Ten animals went missing."
"I haven't heard anything about that."
"It was covered up."

Izuku blinks. "That hardly seems worth covering up."
"That beast we killed," Endeavor recalls, and Izuku tries not to flinch at the memory, "it was
vaguely humanoid but still bestial. An animal despite human DNA. The public knows full well
that the thing wasn't natural, and that it only fell to you and I. What's to say they won't connect the
dots, even those that aren't there?"
"You think the animal kidnapping was for experimentation," Izuku says. Endeavor only grunts.
"I don't think anything yet; I'm merely toying with hypotheses. The case files are fresh on my
desk."
"But the case was covered up."
"Boy, you have a lot to learn about conspiracies." Endeavor flicks the railing he's leaning against,
causing a spark to ignite and travel along the metal. It doesn't scorch. "For every tinfoil hat worthy,
'deep state,' assault team of top heroes level case, there are a hundred like the one we'll be starting.
High level villainy we can't let out because of the public consciousness. In any other time, it would
all be out in the open. But with All Might gone and monstrous, Quirked animals on the loose."
"Civil unrest, again." Izuku stands and jumps off the water tower, landing in a crouch. He
straightens. Turning his gaze towards the direction Endeavor pointed, he rests his hands on his
hips. "Will we set out now? Even if it's probably relatively small, we should still try to get on top
of it."
Endeavor keeps silent but looks at his watch. It beeps. He takes a deep breath and looks at Izuku.
Izuku smiles, unable to keep the teasing edge out of his expression. "There are… other things to
attend to."
"Indeed. Hana always needs more help at the soup kitchen and the park could use a good
cleaning."
"I've had a long day. You've had a long day. You're welcome to dine at my home after washing up.
Fuyumi would like to see you."
" You would like for me to see Fuyumi," Izuku corrects, tapping the side of his neck. "And you still
wish for us to meet despite knowing I'm committed. Perhaps if you committed yourself to helping
people for nothing to gain, you'd respect mine and your daughter's wishes."
"You do not know Fuyumi's wishes."
"Fuyumi is a young teacher. There's hardly time for marriage, much less to someone as young as
me." Izuku spins on his heel and drops all sense of formality. "Get back to the agency and change.
If we're lucky we'll have donations to hand out rather than prepping all the food."
Izuku ignores the wave of heat behind him. "Very well." It's annoying but not surprising. Not
everyone can turn on a time. Especially not someone like Endeavor is even worse, with all of his
bullheaded stubbornness. Therefore baby steps. Lots and lots of baby steps.
Chapter End Notes
School sucks, work sucks, no free time sucks... That's about it really. I miss having
time to write, but the show goes on regardless, just at a slower wait. Hopefully I won't
be so busy but the school year is already winding down and I have some homework to
do. Who knew you could get five pages for history on day three? Not me but my
teacher can suck it. Hope you enjoyed. Cheers
Hinted Shadows
Chapter Notes
"All the way down! All. The. Way. Parallel is not full range of motion! I don't care what you were
told before. Ass to the grass, you zygote!"
That last expression causes another student to snort and laugh. They themself have to be bailed out
by their rack partner, something that Izuku forces himself not to smile at. Then he catches Shoji's
eye and laughs good and loud. "I'm being serious," he says, holding back giggles. "Tokage, all the
way. You can't just stop when your thighs are parallel to the ground."
"But it's a full squat!"
"Your mom's a full squat."
"Kaminari, that's a lap. Now."
It becomes increasingly hard to keep serious as the racks around him turn to look and begin to
whisper. Kaminari takes off for his lap and a few others crack jokes under their breath. How does
Aizawa teach with a straight face? "I'm serious here. You don't stop when your arms are parallel
when you're benching."
"Yeah, but—"
"But nothing. You're not moving the muscle all the way it can. Which is what you want." Izuku
casually picks up a plate from a nearby rack. "You know about time under tension and all of that
stuff, right?"
"Yeah, the longer you work the muscle the more it grows."
"That's right. I figured you were more experienced. Anyway, this—" Izuku squats as low as he
possibly can, holding the plate in front of him, "—works your legs way more than just going to the
bare requirement for the exercise."
"Alright, but I'm just trying to get through the workout. I can't go all the way down with the weight
I'm using."
"Then drop the weight," Izuku says, "it's that simple. This goes for all of you. If you can't
consistently lift with good form or full range of motion, then drop the weight. It's not that
complicated. You're not in a weight lifting competition. The goal isn't to move as much as you can
at the bare minimum. You're trying to work your body to get as fit as possible, and that means
going as far down as you can. The harder you work the muscle the stronger it'll get."
Tokage sighs and reracks the bar. Her partner helps her take off a few kilos and she goes right back
to work. This time, she goes down until she can't anymore. Izuku nods and orders everyone else to
make sure they're doing the same.
The weight room is a sight to see. There's more than enough racks for double of the forty hero
students, and each one has a pair. Everyone's at a different level. Izuku watches Shoda from class 1-
B carefully squat a fixed weighted bar, going slow and watching himself in the mirror. At the rack
next to him, Shoji from class 1-A reps out three-hundred and sixty kilos for his finisher. Other
students are at different points in the exercise. Bakugo is already done and sitting on a bench, and
Yaoyorozu disappeared outside to jog a few laps to keep warm for what's to come.
Izuku smiles as he recalls the lesson plan All Might drew up. They're splitting the class in two
today, and both halves will be pushed hard. Maybe it's a little cruel of him to enjoy the thought of
his underclassmen collapsing from exhaustion, but Izuku can't help it. The idea of working hard is
appealing. Both from his position as a TA and as an upperclassmen for them. The only way
progress can be guaranteed is through work, and progress will definitely be made by the end of
class.
"Young Midoriya! How are they looking?"
Izuku looks away from the racks and over to the entrance. All Might, a little late, waves a hand as
he walks in, a folder tucked under his arms. He looks strange, his suit missing in place of sweats
and a plain U.A tee. Given today's circumstances, though, it's not unfounded. "Pretty well, actually.
I had to remind them about full range of motion, but that's to be expected, right?"
"Fairly so," All Might agrees. They meet halfway into the rows of racks, embracing in a one armed
hug. A few more students finish up, wiping down their equipment before looking at their teachers.
"It's not all that rare for people to cut corners in a workout. Good on you for hammering home to
complete the exercises the right way."
"I tried my best, sir."
"Of course. Here." All Might hands Izuku the folder. It's heavy, and when opened he finds pages of
neatly written notes. Student profiles, by the look of it. Halfway through the sheets there's a divider
marking a change. At the very back is a list of names, twenty on one side, another twenty on the
back.
"Today's the day?" Izuku asks, already knowing the answer.
"Today's the day," All Might agrees. He straightens his back and takes a deep breath. "All of you!
Finish up and gather 'round. Fast!"
Barbells are racked and dumbbells drop. The students scurry over. A few are nervous, but most are
at ease or even eager. They know something interesting is about to happen. Izuku smiles at them as
they bunch together. A few take a knee, just to catch their breath. He's glad to see them already
tired. It means they haven't been skimping on their workout, at least for the most part. A few look a
little too fresh, though, which should soon change.
"If you bothered to read the syllabus," All Might begins, drawing a few snickers. He pauses,
smiling humorously. "Yes, I know. You probably handed it to your parents and forgot about it. Or
just threw it out. That's fine. You'll be given direction every day, so there's not much worry about
that for now. But since we went over this, you should know that today you'll be divided in half.
Class placement is irrelevant. The groups will be mixed between A and B. This also doesn't have
anything to do with academics or behavior, only your performance in this class."
"We mean athletic performance," Izuku clarifies. "How fast you are, your endurance, your ability
to push on when it hurts, and, yes, how much you can lift. Obviously it's not the best metric since
some of you are biological outliers, but it was still taken into account. Both sections will be pushed
hard, and the programs will be tailored to iron out your weaknesses and improve your strengths.
This will not be easy. For any of you. Any questions?"
No one raises their hand. "Perfect. Seeing none, Izuku, read off the names, please."
It takes a full minute to get everyone properly divided, mostly because some don't want to be a part
of what's very clearly the weaker group. But Izuku holds firm and orders them apart, splitting up a
few friends and shoving strangers together.
"Twenty and twenty," Izuku says, standing right between the two groups. "Just like you wanted.
Do you want to begin, sir?"
"That would be great." All Might raises a skinny hand and turns around. "Todoroki, Yaoyorozu,
Iida—all of you lot, follow me! Izuku will take the rest of you!"
Izuku smiles as half the class leaves out the back door. All Might's been eager about getting into
the nitty gritty of his plan, and he knows the man will drive the students into the dirt with utter
glee. Just like he did to Izuku nearly two years ago. Turning, Izuku rests his hands on his hips. No
one meets his eyes. He can guess why—no one wants their lack of skill or development shoved
into their face. But it's what they need. How could they improve when they don't see where they
lack?
"How are we all feeling today?" he begins, letting his posture slouch. It's hard to act calm and
approachable when he barely even realizes how imposing he seems, but hours of practice with
Midnight have made it a little easier.
"Sore," someone says.
"Tired," another adds.
"We'll stretch again," Izuku decides. "Static stuff rather than dynamics. I'll show you all some more
stuff to make sure you don't get hurt. Most of you are new to this, so it's important for you to
understand how to recover. Have you all been sleeping well?"
There's a laugh, and by the way Monoma from 1-B covers his mouth, it's completely unintentional.
"I get that you're all fourteen or fifteen," Izuku says, shaking his head, "but you can't stay up too
late. Especially with what we're making you do. Sleep well and eat well. Those are about the only
things I can't make you do, so you've gotta have some self discipline there. I get a solid eight hours
almost every night."
"But homework…"
"I know it's hard. Trust me, I had a ton when I first started. You get better at it, though. It just takes
time. Now." Izuku stands up a little straighter and changes his voice from casual to something
more commanding. "Why do you think you're with me and not with Yagi?"
"We're slow and new."
"Basically, yeah," Izuku agrees. "You're not on the level of the others. Especially the
recommendation students. Some of you are close, though," he says, looking at Kirishima and
Bondo. "Pretty close. But we had to draw the line somewhere, and a few got the short end. But
that's okay. You'll still get better—just not like how the other half will be."
"What're the differences in the programs?" Ibara from 1-B asks. "The syllabus just said that one is
more advanced than the other."
"The other half will focus on applying their athleticism," Izuku explains. "Think of it this way.
Most of those people can run faster than you, but that's not the only thing. They can turn, jump,
stop, spin, duck, react—everything you need in a fight or maneuver, they can do better than you.
It's mostly because they've had more time working on this stuff. So instead of chaining them to the
basics or mindlessly drilling them, Yagi is going to put them through the ringer until they're
perfect. It doesn't stop at that, I'll show you all later. But while they're working on applying their
skills, I'm going to teach you those skills. How to run, how to cut, how to jump, and all the rest of
the important stuff."
Someone raises their hand. "So we're the remedial group?"
"No. You're the normal group." Izuku slips his hands into his pockets and relaxes a little. "UA
expects you guys to be rough and untreated. The exam is built to find those with good spirit and
powerful Quirks. That's why it's advertised as a bash all you can event while the rescue points are
hidden. You guys don't need to be peak athletes at the start because almost no one your age is. You
either stick to regular PE, do a few sports, or go on your own. None of those push you like our
programs will."
"So we're going to die from exercise?"
"No," Izuku assures. "I'll make sure you're fully recovered and get ample rest. I… well, I work
until I fail a lot. Lifting and running until I physically can't anymore. You'll be training like that,
and, yeah, there's a chance you'll vomit after or get injured. But that's why we recover. Recovery
Girl is a short hop away and I'm not gonna hurt you. Got it?"
"Vomiting after a workout sounds terrifying."
"That's because it is. It shouldn't happen." Izuku cringes a little, remembering a few rather awful
days he had. "It happened to me because I didn't take care of myself like I should've been. I worked
when I was sick, and then kept going after I got dizzy. That's another difference between you and
the other group, actually. They know how to push themselves safely. You don't."
"What about going Plus Ultra?"
Izuku smiles. "I was once told that going beyond frequently is bad for your long term health.
Everything Plus Ultra comes when it's down to the wire and there's everything left to lose. In the
gym? You go Progressive Overload. Safely," he stresses again. "If you've got a problem, talk to
me. Alright?"
They're nervous. Worryingly so. Izuku cracks an easy smile and jerks his head over his shoulder.
"C'mon. Today's gonna be easy when it comes to technique stuff. I'll show you how to properly run
and jump. I'll take your vertical jumps too, just to see how you're doing. After that it'll be a burnout.
Just running until we're out of time. I'll be there every step of the way. Let's go!"
Working with a group half the size they're used to is a little off-putting for the students. There's a
feeling Izuku picks up on, that they feel a little exposed. It doesn't help that, since they had the
advanced students partner with the newer ones, they're without familiar faces. But that shouldn't be
a problem. There's ten from each class, giving them at least some familiarity. Still, Izuku still gives
them reassuring smiles. Then again, maybe it's him who's making them nervous.
Izuku's not blind to the hero worship. He's seen it before in them, he just wishes there was a way to
snap them out of it. Maybe he could make a fool of himself? No, that could backfire.
Horrendously. And every other idea he has to get them used to him involves spending time outside
of class—something he'd be keen on if it weren't for his job and training.
"Asui, I feel like you're cheating."
Izuku laughs along with the rest of the class as he jots down Tsuyu's score for the vertical jump
test. "Things are a little different for mutants, it's no big deal. As long as she improves by the next
time we record scores, anyway."
"Why are we even doing this?" Kamakiri from 1-B asks. "You already have a good idea of what
we can do, right?"
"I know what you can lift and how far you can run," Izuku says. "This is to see how you move
your body. Resistance training is great, but raw power and stats don't mean much if you can't apply
them. Bondo, I'm gonna use you as an example, alright?" The tall, candle headed boy from 1-B
shrugs. Izuku flashes a quick smile before continuing.
"Bondo has the biggest squat out of all of you, but that's because he's big. Of course he can move
the most weight. On paper, he's got the strongest legs. But he outweighs all of you too. So he can
only jump thirty centimeters or so. Jiro, on the other hand, is small. She can only lift half of what
Bondo can. But she can jump twice as high. See what I'm getting at?"
"Sorta," Kaminari from 1-A says. "How much weight we can move doesn't matter if we can't
move our bodies. Right?"
"Right," Izuku confirms. "It's why the armed forces test on how many pushups you can do instead
of how much you can bench press. Body weight exercises are a good way to see where you're at.
Just like running is."
"Oh, god."
"It's going to happen," Izuku warns. He quickly checks his phone. "Right after we finish this up.
Stretch if you need. Get a drink, too. We're not stopping until we absolutely have to!"
Which ends up being a full hour. Izuku doesn't push them the entire time—that would be
borderline homicidal. But the goal is to get them used to running extended periods of time over
great distances. The only way to do that is to actually practice. Interval training would be good to
bring up their overall endurance, and he'll get them to do it on some days. But getting a solid eight
kilometers in today is good training for the mind.
"... And stop! If you lay down I'll make you run again!" Kinko from 1-B instantly shoots to her
feet, a look of fear crossing her flushed face. "You're good, don't worry," Izuku assures, "I just don't
want you guys to just stop. Put your hands over your head and walk."
"I'm gonna die."
"You'll be alright. Get some water. Especially if you didn't take the opportunities for drinks when I
gave them to you," Izuku adds, casting a glance at Kirishima, who looks away like he's done no
wrong. "I'm serious. Drink water. Not soda or juice or energy drinks. Get your nutrients from food
instead. Lunch Rush will help you out if you ask, alright?"
"No. I need a nap."
"Eat first, you can sleep when you get home. I'll see you all later. Bye!"
Izuku watches them go, noting how Uraraka specifically seems to be in a rush. She practically runs
to the lockers while everyone else walks. And then she's the first out, waving a nervous hand to
him as she ducks out the door. Izuku thinks nothing of it. Maybe she just wants some extra time to
unwind. There's no reason to be worried, even if she was sluggish all morning. It's just the stress
from being in a new program. There's nothing to worry about.
[x]
"It wasn't trigger."
"What gave it away? The human DNA or the reports of heroes missing their Quirks?"
Endeavor snatches back the file, burning it in his hands and dumping the ashes into a nearby bin.
The atmosphere of his office is tense, and the disorganized stash of papers betray the man's calm
demeanor. "This is serious."
"I know." Izuku plays with one of Endeavor's paperweights, trying to keep a level head. It's
working, but only just. "That man was trying to take my Quirk, not trigger a rampage. And his little
gang has already had some success. Three six days."
"Count yourself lucky for keeping your Quirk activated," Endeavor grumbles. "The ones who were
hit are all small time pros with little interest from the public. If you'd gotten hit, there would've
been mayhem."
"I don't believe in luck, sir," Izuku says, setting the paperweight down. "I just try to prepare for the
worst. And right now, that's a street full of these Quirk erasers. They're only temporary, but all it
takes is a second to kill a hero caught off guard."
"The bullets cancel Quirks for roughly five minutes," Endeavor grunts. "That's enough time to do
serious damage. If one gets hit, civilians and heroes nearby will become distracted."
"It'll create the perfect scenario for a larger scale attack." Izuku looks out the window. "Though it's
hard to say for sure. Those arrested after the shootings have refused to talk."
"Typical behavior for Yakuza types," Endeavor remarks. "They hold no power anymore and they
still act like their throats will be slit open if they give us a single word."
"Then they're gearing up for a power grab," Izuku decides. "It's the most logical conclusion. No All
Might, gradually increasing crime, a power vacuum in the underworld… Those bullets are their
ticket to the top." But All for One is out there, and there's no way in hell he'll just let that happen
he doesn't say.
"They'll be crushed."
"I wouldn't be so cocky."
Endeavor huffs. "They'll have to be crushed. Yakuza are like parasites. They take root, feed, grow,
and after a short period of time, they become integral to the system. Even one group can have an
entire city under its thrall. Therefore they will be stamped out, else there'll be an even bigger mess
when All Might gets back."
"Do we have any leads?" Izuku asks.
"Yes. But we're far too high profile to investigate them. They'll slip away the moment we get
close."
"Couldn't we go undercover? I have experience working the underground side of things."
Endeavor looks at Izuku flatly. "Green hair, green eyes, and a face full of freckles. You'd be seen a
mile away."
"I can wear a disguise."
"It wouldn't be enough. Proper infiltration takes time and skill. You possess neither, and they'd
catch on to who I am no matter how hard I tried."
"So what's the plan?"
"We let the police shoulder the burden for now. They'll dig up information and contact us when
they're ready for a raid. If things get worse in the streets, we'll resort to more… overt tactics."
Izuku nods. "What about today?"
"We have another case, rember?" The door of Endeavor's office slides open. "I sent a team to
collect data from the zoos. We have leads to follow."
"In costume?"
Endeavor's face lights, casting shadows over the creases of his face. "Overt operations can be just
as useful."
The zookeepers don't provide any resistance. Not that Izuku Endeavor interrogate them—all they
do is verify the first hand statements before moving on. But from how nervous they seem, one
would be forgiven for thinking otherwise. At first, Izuku sees it as a sign of guilt. Logical thinking
quickly puts that theory to rest. The zookeepers were probably attached to the animals they lost,
and Endeavor is intimidating from every angle. There's no wrongdoing on the victim's end. But
bystanders, however, are a different case.
The break in occurred in the evening, an hour after the zoo closed. No alarms were tripped, and
barely a sound was made. The only reason the police were called was because of an eagle eyed
security guard in the camera room. And just as quickly as they were seen, the villains left.
"A warp Quirk," Izuku says, "there's no doubt about it."
"Or tempering," Endeavor muses. The air around them warms as they descend, taking on an
unclean smell as they approach one of Tokyo's more unsightly areas. "It wouldn't be shocking if
there was a mole. The animals are all large and difficult to care for. Perhaps a worker turned and
joined an organization."
"That would explain the volume of the cargo." Izuku touches down on top of a warehouse, careful
to not make a sound. "If it were a group inexperienced in the care of exotic animals, then they'd
start with just one. Something docile and easy, too. Like a sloth. Not rhinos, elephants, hippos,
bears, and half a pride of lions."
"And that's just half of what they took." Endeavor lands at Izuku's side, dimming his flames.
"Which is why they can't be housed in one location."
"A warp Quirk could stash them overseas," Izuku points out.
Endeavor shakes his head. "Few are strong enough, and those that are have limits. If the warper got
that many large animals out of the park, they couldn't have gone far with them."
"Still, they don't have to be in Tokyo. They could be in Yokohama, or across the bay in Futtsu.
There's a wide area to cover, and we need to narrow it down."
"That's why we're here." Endeavor points down at the metal of the warehouse. "There was a
disturbance reported here the night of the break in. An investigation was conducted, but nothing
was found."
"That's… off." Izuku racks his brain, trying to connect the dots. "There should've been something.
A fallen forklift, some vandals, a fight, signs of a break in. But nothing at all?"
"Correct. No evidence of anything other than regular activity was found, even though there were
three different reports made within ten minutes of each other."
"Someone's hiding something, then. The owner of the warehouse?"
"Doubtful. Aiding in animal trafficking is a serious crime. No owner wants to deal with the
trouble."
"I thought places like this were hotbeds for smuggling?"
"Narcotics. Drugs are easy to hide if you're good enough. They don't make any noise, either. Lions
and bears, however."
"I see. The risk to reward ratio just doesn't make sense, then. So whoever owns this place will
cooperate?"
Endeavor laughs, standing up straight and preparing to jump off the roof. "No. If one man squeals,
the others will follow. Everyone around keeps their traps shut if they can help it. Those tips were
anonymous, and theoretically a hero could've heard the same noise. These types of characters only
try to sabotage if there's no risk. We're in for a shakedown."
The first thing the warehouse owner tells them is to fuck off. When further pressed, he gives a very
good argument. "You think I live in this shit hole? You fuckers are lucky I'm even here today and
not dealing with jack-off union reps. A disturbance at twelve am? Ha! I was at home, eating my
midnight snack."
"Mind if we have a look, then?" Izuku asks, being as friendly as possible while Endeavor silently
glares behind him. "No harm, no foul. We believe you, sir. You're the victim here. We just want to
make sure no villains are using your plot as a hideout."
"I already had a buncha idiot cops turn up." The man spits on his own threshold, leaning against
the frame. "What good would a pair of villain punchers do?"
"Far better than you would think." Endeavor moves forward, looking over the man. "I assure you,
no matter how thorough you think those officers were, we will be better. That should make you
feel reassured."
The man recoils as though he's been burned. He glares back at Endeavor. The staring match barely
lasts a second. "You got a warrant?"
Izuku smiles, perhaps a little too kindly. "Nope."
There's a camera on them the moment they step in. It's not surprising—anyone would be smart to
record an unwarranted search done by heroes. So Izuku makes sure to keep everything by the
books. He keeps close to Endeavor, playing the part of a studious work-study hero even though he's
looking just as hard as his teacher.
"When do you workers leave?" Endeavor asks, along with a throng of other questions. Izuku looks
his teacher right in the eye as the man answers. A silent message is received. Izuku is to do the
bulk of the searching while Endeavor keeps the owner distracted.
"About ten, ten thirty. Late nights are awful, y'know, and…"
Izuku tunes the words out, touching the metal of the shipping containers and the wood of the
crates. Danger Sense feels outward. He doesn't expect to find anything—it's just better to be safe
than sorry. Though one side of the building is a little more unstable. Interesting.
They slowly make their way around, with Izuku taking mental notes. At first it seems that there
really are no signs of disturbance. Or at least nothing that wasn't cleaned up the morning after. But
little details pile up, bit by bit. An intent on a crate, just a little to round to be from a machine. Scuff
marks on the floor from something big, but not the characteristic black of rubber tires. Dents I'm
shipping containers, just barely noticeable.
The final one comes at the end of the loop around the warehouse. Izuku stops dead in his tracks and
looks up about five meters. There's a dent in the wall behind a shipping container, bending a
support beam at a shallow angle. Casually, Izuku strolls over. "Sir," he asks, "may I look behind
this container?"
"If you can fit, sure. There probably ain't a lick of space between it and the wall."
"We'll see about that."
Izuku jumps and lands on top of the container. It's hollow and empty, and his steps make a slight
echo as he walks across. When he reaches the back side, he looks down behind it. There's a crack.
Smiling, he jumps down, controlling his descent. It's the unstable area he felt before, one made
from a large impact between the container and the wall. When he lands, Izuku lights up the space
with his lighting. There's scratch marks on the floor. Two sets, and while it's hard to tell, he's
willing to bet one's from the initial impact and the other is from an attempt to push the container
back.
"Can I move this?" Izuku calls. "I think I've found something."
"Shift my entire store around while you're at it, kid. Less I gotta pay my forklift guys, the better."
It's child's play moving the container. It feels like nothing in his hands at forty percent, and Izuku
very nearly moves it to the wrong spot because it's so light. Danger Sense gets him back on track,
however, and he maneuvers it to an open space on the floor.
"Do you see it?" Izuku calls to Endeavor. "They're kinda hard to miss."
"Indeed. Old man—"
"Oi!"
"—did the police check behind the container at all? Or any of the others?"
"No. They just looked at what literally everyone could see. Lazy bastards."
"We did say we'd be more thorough," Izuku reminds as he lands beside Endeavor and the man.
"Here's your thoroughness. Conclusive evidence of a disturbance."
"Disturbance with a Quirk as well," Endeavor adds. "Normal human strength can't do that. Or even
animal strength."
"What're you gonna do about it then?" the man asks. "I can't have my place become a crime scene.
It's bad for business."
"A shame," Izuku says, walking back over to the container. "It's already too late for that. I mean,
the whole back side is dented!" Dents, outward and inward dot the surface, resembling the crumple
zone of a car after a crash. There's even a few punctures. "How did the police miss this?"
"They didn't?" Izuku turns to see a worker, perched on top of a forklift and nursing a sandwich.
"There were a pair of detectives in here. They saw it."
"Detectives? The hell are you talking about?" the owner asks, nearly dropping his phone which is
still recording.
"The detectives. Two of them came in a day after the policemen. Said they'd take care of it. I
thought that's what the heroes are here for?"
"It's not," Endeavor says, perfectly level even though Izuku knows he feels guarded. "We're
following up on the police inquiry. There's been no record of detectives conducting an
investigation."
"Hold on." Izuku kicks into the air, flying over the shipping crate to look at the side that was facing
away from the wall. "This entire section is fine!" he yells, "not a scratch on the thing!"
"So these detectives," Endeavor says, approaching the worker on the forklift, "did they have
badges?"
"Yeah. Showed em right to me and I let them in."
"Without my permission!?" the owner hollers.
"I sent you an email about it," the worker says. "And what was I supposed to do? Say no to the
secret service?"
"A pair of on record cops who didn't see something as obvious as structural damage, and a pair of
off record detectives who made note of it." Izuku lands and looks to Endeavor. "Sir?"
"Old man, it would be best if you stopped recording at this time."
"I'm well within my right—"
"It's not a question of right, it's a question of safety."
"Fuck o—"
"Let me spell it out for you," Endeavor growls, "this is the start of a conspiracy. Any and all
evidence should be documented by trusted individuals. As of now, you are a suspect along with
your entire workforce."
"Are you threatening me?"
"You also missed the obvious structural damage," Izuku says casually. "You ignored notices from
employees too. That's quite suspicious. You've got something to hide, no? It would be a shame if
we had to tear this place apart."
"You wouldn't."
Endeavor raises an eyebrow. "Care to confirm that theory?"
The man hands his phone over without complaint. Izuku holds a neutral face as Endeavor orders
the doors of the container open. The darkness inside is cold and unwelcoming. There is danger, but
not in the physical sense. It's mental. Something even more daunting.
"If you're worried about the right choice—"
"If those animal kidnappings are related to the beast we killed, then we made the correct decision,"
Izuku says, taking a step into the dark.
"Very well. Light the way."
Izuku does, and regrets it almost immediately.
A woman, dressed all in black, is hung from the roof of the container. Suspended by her wrists, she
weeps blood from her face, the dried red pooling at her feet. Bruises dot her skin and cuts line her
arms. And yet there's no fatal wounds. It's almost as though she murdered and reassembled with the
red evidence still upon her. And upon her chest in a brand, a familiar emblem blotting her already
purple skin. One of an eight petaled flower.
"Yakuza."
"Yes. And more. Look." Endeavor points to a tuft of fur on the floor. "There's a message to be
heard. Two parties, one may have sent the detectives."
Izuku doesn't respond. He merely gazes into the woman's lifeless, bloody eyes. It's all he can do to
keep from looking at her brand. Because should his eyes drift down he'd be forced to admit that
there'd been a skirmish. One between the forces of All for One, and Shie Hassaikai.
Chapter End Notes
Two weeks. Goddamn I'm slacking. Oh well, y'all expected it. I just hope this is worth
the wait. Next one should help you connect all the dots if you haven't already. Cheers!
Join my discord
New Targets
Chapter Notes
He hits the ground running. The shock of his feet in the ground jars his bones, reminding him of
the weight he carries. He spins, hopping a meter off the ground and pulling back a fist. There's
shouts, not of fear or shock, but of warning and preparation. The enemy is organized and smart,
and the dozen of them waste no time whipping up a counter or breaking away. But the blast of
wind they brace for doesn't come. Instead, Izuku flips, head over heels. He spins, rotating so fast he
goes dizzy. Then, he lands in a crouch, one fist flat with the broken road.
"Richmond Smash!"
A shockwave tears through the city block, it's full force held back by the restrictive cuffs on his
ankles and wrists. But the deviation is still massive. Buildings collapse and the earth shakes. The
road and those branching off it shift, swaying back and forth with the foundations of entire
apartment complexes. And that's not even the end of it.
A chunk of rock the size of a semi truck hurls towards his face. A strand of Blackwhip intercepts it,
but not from his body. Instead, it erupts from the ground, winding around the stone before
launching it back from where it came. Then the chaos truly begins.
From his palm spews thick, black tendril, as alone as it is strong. Yet as it burrows, it breaks off,
growing like a system of roots to break through the surface. All around him, a forest of Blackwhip
rages. Limbs lash out, breaking off parts of structures to throw or grabbing opponents to restrain.
It's pure mayhem all around, but in Izuku's head there's nothing but perfect focus.
The eye of the storm rests on the other side of the most hectic winds. Izuku emulates it, making
sure his thickest defenses are closest to him. Nothing can breach his walls. He can't let them. The
entire move he's performing relies on focus and complete synchronisation with his Quirk.
Blackwhip becomes his eyes and ears, feeling out the world outside his cocoon. Each strand is a
line of data, reporting back to him. His mind should be pure chaos like the city. But it's not.
Instead, there's harmony.
He and One for All work together closely, breathing as one and thinking together. There's not
enough processing power in Izuku's brain to take every single tendril and bend it to his will, so One
for All shoulders the bulk of the work. Izuku instead focuses on the bigger picture, shaping out
what he wants and carving his mark into the world. His body has long since been able to handle
massive uses of Blackwhip, but the mental side held him back. Just like Danger Sense.
He could fry his brain by doing this very move, but he doesn't. The sheer amount of work he put
into this move, the months he spent meditating at the agency, and the hours of mindless drilling
with Black Whip finally pay off. He's practically untouchable, unbeatable by conventional means.
It's organized chaos of the highest order. Each strand is like an instrument tuning in an orchestra,
feeling it's own way in the world as hundreds of others do the same, yet in their own way. And
Izuku, resting on top of a mountain, looks down as the conductor, waiting patiently for his charges
to all hit the same, perfect note and be ready for the piece. It's beautiful. Perfect. Majestic.
And yet…
"What's up?"
Izuku's smile strains. He opens his eyes, forcing his eyelids apart to look Mirio in the eye. He's
forced to let his grip go because of it. Intently, he feels pushback from the people he was holding at
bay. "I hate you so, so much."
"Nah, you love me. Wanna see if I can knock you out?"
"N—"
A fist connects with Izuku's jaw. It's not very powerful. In fact it's really weak compared to the
level of damage he can do himself. But it's a jolt his head, and Izuku can't help but flinch away. In
doing so, he lets his concentration slip, and rather than fight it back into submission, he lets
Blackwhip drop. Completely. Tons of cement fall, along with all of the students. Izuku dodges
another attack from Mirio, stirring up dust with a kick before dashing away.
"You could've pulled the punch a lit—"
Izuku lashes out with wind and tendrils, stunning the third year attempting to chase and binding
them before they can dodge. Almost carelessly, Izuku tosses them down. Technically speaking, he
can't knock any of them out. It's just not a part of the exercise. But he can throw them away as he
pleases and do everything in his power to avoid capture. Thus the hurricane, and thus the incoming
rainstorm.
He can't just Detroit Smash it. He'd get disqualified if he did. But that's not the only way to stir up
wind. Izuku begins to spin, twirling around like a dancer as he circles upward into the sky. Wind
begins to blow, brushing aside prodding attacks thrown by his opponents below. The rain follows
soon after. Droplets scream towards the earth, lawlessly landing and soaking the already unsteady
earth. The result is a quagmire of mud and brick, a sort of stationary landslide that makes it
impossible to move on the ground for normal people and extremely difficult for the more gifted.
Izuku continues to build up his storm. It's a small one by all standards, with no lighting or thunder
and just enough cloud coverage to darken a section of the city. The other students light it up as best
they can, with fire and light and all sorts of random attacks. Izuku watches, still circling. He's not
trying to hide—in fact he's doing the opposite. His lightning arcs through the clouds, turning the
world a bright green as he demands to be seen and heard.
Other students—all third years—climb to meet him. They fight through the weather, calling to each
other and forming plans. Words are swiped by the wind, but Izuku can feel the danger. First from
below, but then from above. Someone, presumably the strongest of the lot, pushes through the
wind to target the top of his head. Izuku doesn't react to them. Instead, he takes a few cheep shots
and the weaker ones under him. Blackwhip makes quick work, and only a few fast reacting ones
remain. Then he hears it.
A sparkling. A noise like millions of tiny wind chimes blowing in a gale comes from above and
behind. Izuku grins, whipping around and bracing himself. Gold fills his vision. If it weren't for his
goggles he'd be blinded by the light. But even still, the glow is harsh and strong, warming his skin
even more then One for All at twenty percent. Had the attack been from any other Quirk, he'd
already be hit. However Wave Motion is slow, and Izuku has what feels like ages to counter.
His body arcs and twists in mid air, generating force without solid ground to push off of. It starts in
his toes. Feet kick back and forth, sending energy up through his knees and hips, which add their
own strength to the move. Then comes his torso, his chest swaying and directing the power
through his shoulders and up through his arms. The finial motion is a flick, and every ounce of
force he's made pushes through his forearms down, his fingers adding just a pinch of extra heat to
the already massive explosion.
"Sacramento Smash!"
The two titanic forces collide. There's a brief moment of equilibrium, where the two clashing sides
cancel each other out completely. Neither can win out over the other, and the result is a beautiful
glow of green and gold throughout the clouds. Then the air begins to stir. Izuku can taste the power
as it builds, infecting every atom of the surrounding area. Unbridled, the two attacks combine, and
in just a split second, explode.
Izuku falls. Downard he races, angling his body for maximum velocity. His hair is blown back,
along with his sash and belt. One for All lies dormant, completely absent from his body for the
moment. Adrenaline kicks in. His heart beats faster, jumping into his throat and landing in his
stomach before going back up again. Blood roars in his ears, just as loud as the wind. Izuku cracks
a grin, nearly laughing in glee. A few people try to hit him with ranged attacks as he falls, but he
lashes out with Blackwhip and knocks them out easily.
In a real battle, he'd never dare to do something so reckless. But this is an exercise. An experiment
more for the third years than him. Izuku practically specializes in fighting multiple opponents with
varied Quirks. He has to. Not to mention the ridiculous stunts he can pull, even with just twenty
percent. It all makes him the perfect test for a team up. And he just utterly ruined any chances of
victory for them.
It's weird, really. He tries to be cocky and to stick to being realistic. But he can't help the pride that
bubbles up inside. He worked for this. He earned this. So he smiles, even wider, and laughs when
he spies a streak of blue and gold in the grey sky. He spins, turning his back to the rapidly
approaching ground and flares his Quirk. Blackwhip extends, fast but not fast enough to be missed.
But it still wraps around the ball or gold and blue, and Izuku begins to bring it in.
"Izuku! I'm being graded on this!" Nejire shouts as Izuku brings her in for a tight hug. Her voice is
only half serious, and the other half is fighting off giggles. He brings his lips to her cheek as he
curves their trajectory upwards, away from the ground.
"Oh. Well, I'm not," he says into her ear so the wind won't silence him. "This is just friendly
practice in evasion for me. But you just got captured by your target."
"Is it really capture if I wanted it to happen?"
"I thought you were being graded on this."
"Yeah, well, I try not to think too much about that." She pulls on the back of his neck, eyes closed
with a smile. Izuku begins to reciprocate, but there's a crackling of static in his ears.
"Get down here before I give you detention."
Nejire snorts, pulling away as Izuku looks at her flatly. "I think he's learned his lesson."
"Yeah, but why's it me that gets all the threats?"
"You were in my class."
"Thanks, Aizawa. Be down soon."
Izuku still steals a kiss before they head back, even if it's just to annoy Aizawa. When they touch
down at the designated meeting space, Nejire links an arm in his and leads him over to where a
crowd has formed. A crowd of teachers, exhausted looking third years, and first years who share a
collective look of awe. "Hey!" Izuku calls, waving an arm. Immediately, there's a rush of people.
Everyone hurries over, calling out their own greetings and commenting on the exercise. Izuku hugs
a few of the third years, quickly finding and pulling Mirio and Tamaki over to his side before they
can be swept away.
"If you would all settle down," All Might calls, waving a skinny hand in the air. The students
quickly quiet, grouping up with their friends to listen to what he has to say. Izuku smiles at his
mentor, happy that so many others are taking him seriously. "Thank you. Seniors, good work! You
had him running for most of it. Izuku, you also performed well. You made yourself space for a
great break away and you punished them for it severely. What could've gone better?"
"Staying close," someone says immediately. "The little bastard's so good at melee that we get
scared and don't cover him as closely. It's how he got away at the end, and we should've known
better."
"Good. Izuku's slippery. Given that I personally oversaw his training and prioritized evasiveness,
I'm not at all surprised." All Might looks around. "Anything else?"
"We were slow to regroup," someone else says. "There's, like, forty of us. On the surface, that
should make it easier. But he's just one guy, and all of our communication is just about him. It all
gets cluttered, and it didn't help that we couldn't decide on a leader on the fly. It really showed
after he dropped whatever eldritch horror that super move was."
"It's all new," Izuku says with a smile. "I've been working on it for a while, ever since I saw
Endeavor do something similar with flames. This was a good way to test it safely."
"Exactly," All Might agrees, turning to look at where the bulk of the freshmen stand. "That's what
these exercises are. Places to test out new things and learn safely. There is a little risk, but it's pretty
much negligible. Everyone involved has fun, but that fun is taken seriously. You want to get better,
not goof off. Remember that when you have your first combat trials tomorrow."
"They're getting it so easy," a third year says. "I remember being thrown to the wolves on day
two."
"The wolves being our class. Y'know, idiot kids who couldn't do anything right."
"And that's exactly why we've been taking it slow," All Might agrees. He turns his attention to the
first years, smiling warmly. "I understand how eager you all are. Every other student was the same
in the past. But UA's doing something different this time around, for safety and to hopefully make
you better in the bad run. Think long and hard about what you saw today, and tomorrow we'll go
over it before we start to fight. For now…"
"Costumes, right?" Yaoyorozu asks. "It said on the syllabus that they came before actual combat
trials."
"Correct!" All Might exclaims. "First years with me. We'll be heading to the lockers. For the rest of
you, Eraser's on his way with the other two for critiques. Sit tight and don't break anything."
"Alright, who's gonna get the bigger lashing," a third year says, shrugging off a piece of their
armor, "us for failing or Midoriya for being…"
"Midoriya."
"Hey," Izuku whines half-heartedly. "I'm not that bad."
"You are," Nejire disagrees. "Like, you're really, really bad. That first thing you pulled and then the
rain…"
"They were legitimate strategies and I was told to go hard."
"Yeah, but our grades, man…"
"Will be fine." Everyone stands a little straighter as the teachers arrive. Aizawa and the other two
each hold clipboards, and from what Izuku can tell, there's at least a dozen sheets of paper on
them.
"Well?" class 3-A's homeroom teacher says. "What're we waiting for? Tell me how it felt."
"God awful."
"I want a nap."
"Is Recovery Girl still here?"
"Midoriya," Aizawa says lowly as the third years begin to share even more of their thoughts with
their teachers. "With me. We can be more detailed and private that way."
Izuku nods and gives Nejire a light shoulder bump before leaving. "Any notes?" he asks as they
climb down the stairs of the observation tower.
"No. Other than the usual teenage adrenaline junky thing you have going on, there's nothing
wrong. You're already realistic enough and obsessively go over everything you do. Just make sure
you check with me before you do anything drastic."
"Alright." Izuku looks back up the stairs and lowers his voice. "What's this really about?"
"What went down at that warehouse."
Izuku keeps quiet for the rest of the trip. He lets Aizawa lead him away from the scene of the battle
and to a small, squat building clearly labeled as a camera room. "There's a leak."
"You call a plumber yet?" Izuku asks as he opens the door and let's Aizawa in first. The man
shakes his head and sits down in an office chair.
"Haven't had time. We tested the other day and got solid confirmation. Someone's working double
in the investigative department."
Izuku thinks for a moment. "Can Tsukauchi…"
Aizawa shakes his head. "Well, technically he could, but now we know there's a leak. And only the
upper, trusted brass knows. Tsukauchi informed me so I could tell you and your little posse."
"But you're not going to get them yet. Why?"
"It gives us an edge. As far as they know, we're in the dark as to what precinct they're working
through." Aizawa leans back in his seat. "Take a wild guess as to which one."
"Musutafu," Izuku says dryly. "Where I live, where UA is, and where Tsukauchi works. What a
coincidence."
"Quite. All of that, and given the fact that the woman found dead in that storage container was a
forigen national, something he and almost solely him would have an issue with…"
"All for One's not xenophobic, though," Izuku points out. "He's made deals with criminals from
other countries, and there's evidence to prove that it's racially motivated."
"No, but it sends a message, does it not?" Aizawa shrugs. "It's a decent theory. You're trying to
make a comeback and are planning something big. You don't want other organizations stepping on
your turf in the perceived power vacuum so you send a message. One that's very clear. That woman
was part of a known organization, but she was all the way from Cuba."
"Are villains migrating here?" Izuku asks. "There's been a slight uptake in crime, but I haven't
noticed a lot of non Japanese IDs."
"They definitely are. I've noticed more on my patrols. A lot more." Aizawa slips his hand into his
pocket and pulls out what looks like a passport. He tosses it to Izuku, who finds out it's not a
passport at all. Instead, it's a work visa. "That's fake. A damn good one too. I've condensated at
least twenty in the past two weeks. Almost one a night."
"That's…"
"Worrying. Villains are coming over, they're drawn to the darkness caused by All Might's absence.
And only the best are coming over, too. Ones who know how to survive and pass surface level
checks, and even through ones."
"So we've got an influx of forigen villains and a leak in my home precinct." Izuku smiles wryly.
"Not good, and exactly things I can hit my way out of."
Aizawa shrugs. "Switch to nights and bash all the villains you want. It'll make the streets safer, but
you'd be doing what All for One is. Getting rid of the outsiders to kill any rival factions at the
roots."
"He could be hiring them," Izuku points out. "He's got people here, yeah, but he was underground
for over a decade. Anyone he kept would've had to have been worth it. He probably doesn't want to
use up those valuable pieces, and with All Might there was a notable dip in strong villains. He'd
half to hire out."
"Either way, it's not a good thing. Getting other countries to take their trash back is a pain, and
there'll be some idiot villains who will still want to take shots at All for One when the time comes."
"If?" Izuku says, a little hopeful.
"When. There's leaks and Quirk erasers on the streets. I'm betting on there being a gang war soon
—All for One will want a clear shot; a war on two fronts is deadly." Aizawa smiles tiredly. It
doesn't reach his eyes. "I give it six months, tops. There's a fire under this country now, and it's
only a matter of time before the pot starts to boil over."
Izuku nods seriously. "I'll be closer to full power by then. In six months All Might things I'll be
playing with using a hundred percent for brief moments. And he'll be back, too."
"The Sports Festival, right?" Aizawa asks.
"Yeah, but how…"
"He's dramatic, even when he looks like a walking corpse. He'll want a big return."
Izuku shakes his head. "That's in late April or early May. Pretty close to be doing first battle trials."
"It's better this way. I already know who to look for and what problems I need to iron out." Aizawa
kicks his feet up on the table, resting his hands on his lap. "It allows more a more detailed and
planned approach, unlike last year which was thrown together on the fly."
"Still, do you think they'll be ready?"
"You were ready," Aizawa points out.
"That's not a fair comparison."
"No, but the world's not exactly fair, is it?"
Izuku shrugs. "I just don't want them to get hurt."
"They'll be fine. That stupid cash grab has been going in for almost sixty years and nobody's died
yet. The real question is whether or not All Might will be ready."
"He will be," Izuku assures.
"He still looks a little skinny."
"His final surgery was only last week," Izuku recalls. "A small one, but it should allow him to buff
up again without exploding. Once he gets cleared we can start testing. He won't be at full fighting
capacity, but he'll be strong enough to do what he needs."
"If you say so. I'm guessing your his sparring partner?"
"Yeah."
"Cool. Go prepare for that or whatever. I've got a double agent to hunt down."
"Weren't there two fake detectives?"
Aizawa cracks open an eye. "Yes. But there weren't any people who used fellow officers or
detectives for alabies, and while that normally wouldn't mean anything there's a long list of
evidence pointing to the use of another party."
Izuku nods. "I understand?"
"Yeah, one more thing. There's a field trip next week, what to chaperone?"
"Where to?"
"The USJ."
[x]
Tally the dead, replenish the casualties, plot revenge. It's not a hard or original plan—quite the
opposite in fact. He's used it. Entire nations before have as well. It's a plan as old as time, all the
way back from when humans first grouped into tribes to fight over food and water. And yet it's
fascinating to watch, each and every time. For every king does so differently, Tomura and Kai
being no exception.
"Sensei had pets, did he not?"

"He's given you access to all of the Nomu."
"No, no. Not pets. Pets. Guard dogs, tracking hounds, spies. Hybrids. The Nomu didn't come out of
a vacuum Kurogiri. There were projects before."
"... It is doubtful that Sensei will provide you with his personal projects. You are still out of his
hood graces, Tomura. You'd due to remember your place."
"He cost me six men," Tomura spits. His palm slaps the table, turning it to ash in a matter of
seconds. "In and out, an easy job. But he set us up for an ambush. I demand compensation for my
losses! My army cannot take orders from someone so clearly uncaring for their lives!"
"Young Tomura, to challenge—"
"To hell with challenging! I'm demanding. He kills me, he loses my army. Some would turn but
most would refuse to follow him after disposing of me."
"I must caution you about giving Sensei an ultimatum."
"It's all he's given me, I'll throw one right back into his face for wasting my resources. He needs
me."
"Do I?"
Stillness creeps into the space, worming its inky tentacles into each and every crevice. There is no
terror, none so foolishly shown. Any and all fear is buried deep inside, stashed among the darkest
instincts all humans have. All for One reveals himself, melding out of the shadows to stand in the
center of the room. His respirator becomes the only noise, as Tomura and Kurogiri hold their
breaths. Rebellion, it seems, is not taken lightly.
"Are you truly that useful to me, Tomura?" All for One takes a step forward. He keeps his tone
level, uncaring on the surface. His mere presence alone is enough of a threat. "Do you think your
toys and playthings and let projects are irreplaceable? Some are, I'll give you that, but I'm not
above scrounging for parts."
Kurogiri stills at those words, the wisps of his smoke freezing up in caution or even fear. "Sensei,
Tomura didn't me—"
"Do not tell me what Tomura meant, Kurogiri," All for One says, taking another step forward. "He
is right before me, and I heard every word. Tomura is a man now, and therefore he can explain
himself. There's no need for you to be a babysitter anymore."
Tomura glares, itching his gloves off. It's unlikely that he even knows he's done it, judging by how
he shakes in anger. "My people," he grits, "are not spare parts."
"Don't pretend to care, it's hardly convincing." All for One turns and tosses a hand over his
shoulder. "You value them for their power, there's no real loyalty in the arrangement. It's purely
business. You'd best figure that out, else I'll truly have to replace you with Himiko."
There's a crack, loud and sharp. All for One senses a table breaking. The sound of a pile of dust
hitting the cement follows, along with the scuff of shoes on concrete. "Don't compare me to that
bitch. I'm already a leader, she's a spy and a cargo runner at best."
"Don't pretend to be above her, Tomura," All for One says with a voice full of amusement. "Her
part to play is smaller, but she's never failed me. Not like you have. Himiko knows what she wants
and plans to get it, unlike you."
"I have my own go—"
"Do you truly?" All for One approaches his appearance, looming over him and letting his apathy
show. "Have you goals that are not mine? Do you yearn for anything I've not taught you to? You
wish to be a king, but so do all men. Each and every human to walk the earth has wanted to be
higher up than they are—any who claim otherwise are lying or mad. But to be my successor. Well,
I do not want another one of myself. That is a last resort, and you, Tomura, do not wish to be a
backup plan."
Tomura's face screws up in anger, the dry lines of his face contouring in a bitterly ugly fashion.
"I'm stronger than her."
"Strength is irrelevant," All for One chastises.
"Strength is what—"
All for One lunges forward, clamping his hand over Tomura's face. Tomura claws at the arm now
pinning him to the wall, desperately trying to decay it. "Power can be given and taken," All for One
warns. "I could rip every ounce of strength you've ever had out of your body, and I can stuff you
full of enough Quirks to trigger an explosion. You'd be wise to remember.
"You're still of flesh and bone, fragile things by any stretch of the imagination. The only thing that
makes you special is that Quirk of yours, and you don't even deserve it. Decay. Why is it yours?
Hmm?" All for One lets go of Tomura, turning as he sinks to his knees, seething in anger. "It's
humorous, really. How Quirks shape a person's personality. And how you defy every notion one
would have. Sending you away turned you into a greedy hoarder. One who collects people to use
as pawns yet cries whenever they're knocked off the board."
"I am decay," Tomura spits, standing. His fingers itch, red and raw from clawing at All for One's
iron skin. "I will bring about the destruction of society, ripping it's rotten body to shreds."
"Then why haven't you? You have the resources, you have a country under your thrall. Why isn't
Iceland nothing but ash? Hmm?"
Tomura glares, contorting his face into something foul. "You wanted a king. Here I am."
"You are a poor king, the most foolish leader I've seen in my long lifetime."
"What do you want!? " Tomura roars, slamming a fist into the wall behind him. He breathes
heavily, trying to burn All for One's mask away with just his eyes. "'A king', 'decay', which is it? A
ruler or an ender? It's always backwards, convoluted metaphors with you! You sit there, high and
mighty ordering people around but you never tell them anything! You're a poor king! With subjects
who follow blindly and with idiotic faith in the fact that you're not leading them to the slaughter for
your own gain! I demand compensation for what you did to my men! Now!"
"Very well." All for One extends a hand. Forced Quirk Activation extends from his fingertips, the
black and red tendrils digging into the corpse beneath the smoke that is Kurogiri. A groan of pain
echoes, but a portal swirls to life. All for One beckons Tomura forth. "You demand compensation?
Go and take it."
"From you. "
"No. I simply didn't cover your tracks when you stole our new projects. Your own poor preparation
did your men in. Japan is much different from Iceland, you know."
"The Yakuza is on the other side of that wall," Tomura says, taking a cautious step forward.
"Unless you're tricking me."
All for One chuckles. "If I wanted you dead, I'd kill you outright."
"You let—"
"I let you take a risk, Tomura, just as I did before, and just as I let Himiko risk her life." All for
One points to the portal. "Go, and take what you demand."
Tomura holds firm, but there's weariness in his eyes. "No."
"No? But you were so adamant about revenge and compensation." All for One retracts his tendrils.
Kurogiri slumps over and collapses, drained from being forced to hold a portal.
"I don't trust you. As it stands I have half the mind to melt your helmet off in your sleep and take
over."
All for One chuckles coldly. "Wise. Much more so than when you left. Very well, Tomura, I will
not force you to go though my means. But should you continue to get caught, well… I don't like
failures."
"I am not a failure." Tomura draws up his cost and crosses his arms.
"Good. Then you won't mind taking care of those pesky Yakuza for me. The Shie Hassaikai are
quite… interesting, so you'd due to learn from the mistakes you made in your little jaunt to the
zoo."
"You're just going to give the name to me?" Tomura spits on the floor. "I highly doubt that's even
the right gang."
"It is." All for One smiles, preparing to warp away. "Believe me or not, all evidence points their
way. I have good intel from my friends on the other side. It's yours now, on two conditions."
"What?"
"You take Himiko with you, and only you. And you make sure that there isn't a trace of them left in
this country."
All for One warps away, uncaring for a response. Tomura would hardly pass up a chance at getting
what he wants, and even if he fails, the Yakuza will be severely weakened. Either way, the Quirk
nullifiers and their source will be eliminated.
Chapter End Notes
I've only just now remembered how busy I really was pre covid. I have not had two
free nights in a row for two months. Months. And it's not even like what I have in the
spring, with two hour practices and the occasional late game. I mean I'm busy from 7
am to 9 or even 10 some nights. So this and my other project take the back seat. I'm
not going on hiatus, though. I try to write at least a tiny amount each day.
Hope you enjoyed. Cheers.
Discord
A Failure
Chapter Notes
Kai prefers not to sleep. For most it's impossible to hold out for so long, but he can manage.
Overhaul is good for so many things, and using it to ensure that he's always on alert is just one of
many. But even he has to rest eventually. When the edges of his mind begin to frey, and his
thoughts become foggy, and he feels just a little too much anger for the mistakes of his
subordinates, he bows to the primal need.
"Wake me at seven, no later."
Rappa nods, muttering something under his breath and fiddling with his mask. The man is still
unused to the uniform of Kai's organization. A pity. Rappa could do with a little more cleanliness.
Kai raises a hand, delictly taking the glove off, one finger at a time. The air chills the skin of his
hand, turning the flesh clammy. He makes contact with the nearby wall, feeling the stone. Then he
splits it open. Cinder falls, rubble pilling onto itself, though not a speck gets on his shoes. Kai
crosses the threshold and reseals the wall with a touch of his pinky. He gets ready for bed, taking
care to keep everything in its perfect place. When he finally lays down, all is quiet. All is right.
He drifts off, letting sleep take him where it pleases. His consciousness fades. It fades to black.
Then an explosion rips through the air.
It's distant but distinct. Kai vaults from his bed, throwing on clothes like mad and bringing down
the walls around his chamber. Rooms emerge from the liquid stone, startling already tense men as
they get into their battle clothes.
Kai surveys his men, watching them with a critical eye as the walls shake again. "Eri's security is
the highest priority. After that, it's the equipment and formulas. You all know the price of failure."
There is a chill in the air though it leaves as suddenly as it came. Kai watches as his subordinates
get to work, eyeing the newer ones for any signs of hesitation. "It was the garage, sir."
Kai turns, locking eyes with one of his eight bullets. "Any word? Or did you just watch it happen?"
"Kurono was stationed there," Rappa speaks up, pushing his comrade to the side. "We got word
from one of the grunts. He was comin' down to warn you about someone approaching from that
side. Then it hit, and we put two and two together."
"Hold the House," Kai orders, drawing up his cloak and turning to the corridor that leads deeper
into the basement. "The regular barracks and storage facilities can be replaced. Our home cannot be
rebuilt. I want the eight of you blocking entrances to the tunnels. Not entrances to the building. If
Kurono is still alive, get him back here and have him secure the old man. Understand?"
"Yes, boss!"
"Sure."
Kai listens as their footsteps blend with the swarm of the other members, remaining calm as they
ready for battle. Then, once most have disappeared to the upper levels, he kneels. His hands feel
dirty without the layer of protection his gloves offer, and as the tips of his fingers touch the ground,
he can feel the grime and filth seep into his pours. Disgustingly, the matter bends to his will. A pit
opens up on the floor, along with a small staircase and the glow of dim lamps. "Whoever's on duty,
report."
"Eri is still asleep," a voice echoes up from the earth. "She ate well and didn't make a fuss. Her
behavior is improving steadily."
Kai hums. "Very well. Wake her."
"Sir?"
"Wake her."
"S-she'll become distressed, and if what you told me was tr—"
"I do not care. You will wake the girl and carry her with me to an escape route. We are under
attack, doctor. This is no time for hesitation. I'm coming down."
Lights flicker on as he descends, closely followed by the rustling of sheets and the whines of a
child. Kai carefully places a set of gloves on and adjusts his mask. Soon he sees his underling
nervously prodding Eri with a rolled up newspaper as she sleeps on her bed. "B-boss—"
"I want her awake, Lin," Kai orders. "We are under attack at this very instant. The sooner you
wake her, the less stress she'll be under, and the smaller chance there will be of an activation."
"I don't—"
"What you want or don't want doesn't matter." Kai takes a few large steps forward, closing the
distance between him and the older man. Every so slightly, he forces the glove of his right hand to
come undone. He shows his palm to Lin. The man swallows. "Wake Eri. And then carry her to the
safehouse with me."
Lin doesn't say another word. Instead he pushes up his glasses and forces himself to poke Eri with
the newspaper again. "Do it now!" Kai orders, not yelling but rather an intense hiss. Lin squeezes
his eyes shut and cocks his arm back. The newspaper slaps Eri across the face. The girl screams
and jumps, curling into a ball to cup her face. She doesn't cry. She only looks up at Kai and Lin
with fear.
"You're coming with us," Kai says, stepping away and motioning for Lin to pick her up. "You are
to stick by our side, even if Lin sets you down. If you try to run, you know what will happen."
Eri tries to hide her face in the collar of her shirt as Lin grabs her. The man holds her out from his
chest, sleeves pulled over his palms like the thin cloth will protect him from Eri's curse. Kai glares
at the other man one more time before setting out. Though he seals up the entrance to the vault
first.
"What's happening?" Lin asks, looking up and around at the walls and ceiling of the corridor. Kai
holds his silence, feeling the air for anything off. It's foolish to move alone, or even with just one
other person, particularly one like Lin. But it's unexpected. The enemy will be under the delusion
that he's moving with his bullets, or even a small force of men. Therefore they're unlikely to split
up and search for him or Eri.
"Boss, sir… please, what's happening?"
Kai sighs, quickening his pace. "Someone's hitting our compound. I don't know why or who or
how many, but we're going to one of the safehouses until the battle is over. Now move it before—"
"Overhaul!"
Mimic's mask pokes through the wall to Kai's left. The corridor brightens, and the walls begin to
shift like the rise and fall of a diaphragm. "Irinaka. Speak."
"Kurono's on his way! We've got the whole place on lock down, but there's no sign of them
anywhere. The explosion knocked out our main power supply, but the emergency generators are
fine."
"Kurono is supposed to be guarding the old man," Kai says, restraining himself. "I don't want to see
him until we're in the clear."
"He's already on his way! He says it's important, too!"
"M-maybe it's an all clear signal?" Lin says, drawing the ire of both Kai and Mimic. He shys away
and tries to hold Eri even further from himself.
"There's fighting going on now," Mimic continues, flickering away for a moment before returning.
"On the north and east ends there's been contact. We think five, but Kurono is the only one who
knows for sure. What should we do?"
"Hold the southern wall," Kai orders. "Kurono is coming down, and as much as I'd like to gut him
for his insubordination, I'll take the extra protection. Send one of the bullets too. Setsuno will do.
Report back if anything changes. With any luck, I'll be kilometers away if things go wrong."
"Yes, boss. Setsuno is a little shaken up but I'll get him for you!"
Kai starts to walk again, cursing at Lin to pick up the pace. After they cover a few meters the walls
begin to shake again. Above opens a hole. Stone stairs form, and a lithe man in a green button
down with a pink tie falls down them. "Rep—"
"He's dead!" Setsuno screams, scampering up to Kai before his boss can finish the word. "Kurono,
he, he, I saw him—!"
"Kurono is alive," Kai says, pushing Setsuno away before the man can dirty his coat. "He is on his
way. He'll have hell to pay, and may wish himself dead. But he's coming as back up, for me and
Eri. Just as you are."
"No! Overhaul! Boss! He's dead! I watched him…" Setsuno shakes, clawing at the collar of his
shirt and grappling his mask. All sense of urgent fear melts away, only to be replaced with quiet
terror and grief. "I saw him disintegrate. I… I saw him go, feet up. He was in pain, so much pain.
And then there was only ash, and I—"
"Overhaul." The walls split again, and Kurono walks though. His white cloak is covered in blood,
and his mask is singed. There's a gash on his left bicep. He holds a gun and a knife, clenching them
tight as he breathes heavily. "Now's not the time to get the old man."
Kai sneers. "You're lucky you're useful. This level of insubordination is unacceptable. Battle is no
time to question me."
"We're being hit hard, Chisaki." Kurono slips his knife into his belt, glancing over at Lin and Eric
and then to Setsuno, who flinches away. "We have to make sacrifices if we are to lose this
complex. I'll take more living, young blood than dying, old blood."
"It's not your place to decide that," Kai spits. "I've half the mind to make you go back up there to
retrieve him."
"He's not real…"
"Shut up, you hear me?" Kai glares down at Setsuno, who flinches as he scratches the palms of his
hands, clearly trying to repress the desire to use his Quirk.
"What's wrong with him?"
"He thinks you're dead. Saw it with his own eyes, apparently."
"An illusion Quirk, then." Kurono carefully holsters his gun, flicking the safety. "Interesting. I
thought I saw ten, but there could only be one. Do you think it could be those smugglers we put
down?"
"I don't—"
"He's not real! Overhaul, h—!"
Kai snaps over to Setsuno, ripping off a glove and grasping the other man's neck. With a single
thought, Kai seals the man's mouth shut, fusing his lips together to silence him for good. "Next
time it'll be your tongue. Continue, Kurono."
"I believe that the situation is under control. Our priority is you and the source of the bullets, of
course, but if it's just one person then maybe the compound is safe. Though there'll be heroes in
the morning…" he trials off, clearly annoyed. "Perhaps we could stay down here a moment longer
and wait for more information."
"A bold suggestion," Kai says, glancing at Eri and Lin. "There's a line of communication between
the base and the safehouse. Any word of victory or defeat would reach us within a matter of
minutes. To suggest staying is…."
"Overhaul, your strength is invaluable to protecting the base." Kurono pulls his hood down and
does away with his mask. A line of grim stubbornness is set across his lips, and he slowly looks
from Kai to Setsuno. "An illusionist is no match for you, but they could wipe out our labs before
we get the chance to save them. Or worse, make us think they have and trick us into fleeing.
Please, Chisaki. Guard the source and the equipment. It's too difficult to move in a hurry."
The world seems to slow. Kai takes a few deep breaths and looks Kurono dead in the eye. The man
holds his gaze, though something feels off. The back of his mind goes fuzzy, and he feels the prick
of the uncanny valley. Kurono looks like Kurono. It's almost perfect. But it feels wrong, like the
man isn't who he says he is.
"Very well," Kai says slowly. "Lin, keep Eri secure. Trade with Setsuno if you tire. You are to get
to the safehouse. Kurono, you're with me. Lead the way to the source of our Quirk erasers. It's the
top priority."
Kurono stiffens. It's a subtle thing, but the slow shifting of his shoulders comes to a halt. Whenever
it is, it is very good at keeping their cool. There isn't a single twinge of nervousness in their eyes or
face. But their movements become stiff as they brush off Kurono's coat. "Thank you, mister
Chisaki. I was hoping for a more civil discussion. But I have my orders…"
Flashes of silver blind him, and Kai slams his hands into the ground instinctively. Something wizes
over his head. Two more projectiles cut through the air, and the swish of a gun being drawn fill his
ears before Kai manages to erect a set of barrier walls. The shlick of a knife imbedding into a body
makes his vision go red, and the cries of Eri only make it worse. Setsuno wails wordlessly, the man
straining his vocal chords as he runs. "Watch your mouth."
A gun fires. The bang makes Kai's ears ring. Calmly, he makes a hole in the wall of concrete. Lin
lies dead or dying, a knife buried in his throat. Eri whimpers in fear a few meters away. Setsuno…
"Nice try." Kurono's imposter rests a hand on his stomach, smiling as Setsuno cries in fear. The
gun shakes in his hand, smoking. Kurono raps his chest, and the thump of a bulletproof vest
confirms Kai's fears. "But I'm too smart to not be careful."
Another knife flicks from Kurono's sleeve, slamming into Setsuno's head. It imbeds in the socket
of his right eye. Blood flies, Setsuno wails, and the gun fires. The ping is sharper this time; the tips
of needles shattering against concrete. Kai lashes out, creating spikes just below Kurono's feet. The
other man jumps, far higher than what should be possible. He flips, head over heels and he contorts
his body to avoid the sharp points, and lands five meters away with a roll.
"What are you?" Kai demands, standing. He draws up the earth, keeping one hand on the material
at all times. "What do you want from us?"
Kurono grins. It's far too sharp, like a predator gleefully letting its prey know it's dead. "I think you
know." Kurono's voice warbles hallway through the phrase, jumping around in pitch as his clothes
melt off. At the same time he grows, limbs changing to that of a man ten or so centimeters taller
than Kurono. Grey sludge runs off him as shoulders broaden, hips narrow, and skin darkens. Their
eyes change from gold to a pale blue. "Give me the source of the bullets."
Kai slams his hand into the ground as the man flicks away the sludge and leaps. "I'll destroy it
before I give it up," Kai snarls, ruthlessly carving out a warzone in his corridor.
"Then I'll just have to kill you and rip it from one of your little Yakuza." A trio of knives bites into
Kai's coat, narrowly missing his liver and the artery in his groin. Kai dodges two more before he
erects a set of walls around him and Eri. The floor to ceiling protection is cowardly but strong.
"My men are loyal until death and even beyond!" Kai shouts, blindly turning over the material
outside his walls in hopes of tripping up his attacker. "You'll never get it out of them!"
"Oh?" the man croons, and the voice is so close in Kai's ear despite the walls between them. "You
think you can hide it from us? It's not just little ole me, you know. I've got a friend. He's the one
who killed Coronostasis. Turned him right into dust, right after I stole his face. Imagine what he'll
do to your little walls."
Kai glares, grabbing the stone under his hands in a fruitless attempt to control his anger. "Mimic,"
he says, teeth grinding. Overhaul, his most glorious curse, courses through the walls of the
compound. All the way to his new second in command. "Get down here!"
Cracks form in the foundation of the compound. The earth shakes as the lights go dark. Hope
returns to Kai's mind as he feels the walls begin to move. He drops his defenses, ready to launch
another attack. A face forms in the wall to his right, pointed with a plague doctor's mask. "Chisaki,
where's…"
"Kill him."
"His… Hisashi?" The panic in Mimic's voice is muted, but the way it mixes with hope and
confusion and stress forces Kai to face reality. There's a traitor. It's not possible to break in and
then twist one of his members in such a way.
Kai looks at his subordinate and then at the man hellbent on killing him. The taller man looks
vaguely western, though definitely mixed raced, with blue eyes and tanned skin. Not to mention
the small red mustache clinging to his upper lip. 'Hisashi' grins, playfully twirling a knife in his
hand. "Evening, Dear. It's been a while hasn't it?"
"Y-you're dead." Mimic shakes, his mask falling to reveal a face creased with worry lines and
stained with tears. He truly looks his age, now, and even far older. The youthful playfulness Kai
had long grown used to disappears, replaced with agony and grief. "Please, you can't be…"
"No. I'm right here, see?"
"But All—"
"What the hell is going on?!" Kai demands, pounding the wall with a fist. He stirs up the stone,
glaring at 'Hisashi'. "Help me kill him already!"
"But Hisashi, he was. He's not a-a… He was killed by All for One."
"Oh, love, but I'm here. Looking at you." Hisashi, rests a hand on his hip, smiling as he taps his
foot. "You can feel me on the floor. All alive and warm. Just like the day I left."
"I don't give a damn about old fairy tales." Kai lashes out, forcing Hisashi to dodge a series of
spikes. "That man is an imposter! He wants to ruin us. Kill him!"
"You can't do that, dear." Hisashi takes a step back and throws another knife. It glances off of Kai's
cheek, drawing blood. Kai fights back, bending the floor into a pit to trap the man. But he jumps,
landing with a roll just three meters away.
"Die!"
"You just can't kill me," Hisashi laughs as he weaves in-between Kai's spikes. He blows a kiss to
Mimic before ducking under a chunk of wall and sweeping Kai's feet from under him. "Not even
All for One could manage. What makes you think that you could?"
A wave of stone washes across the corridor, stirring up dirt and bedrock and bits of metal pipes.
Water begins to flow, drenching Kai and everything insight as the base's supply of drinking water
seeps up. Kai touches the side of his face. Each and every molecule of filth and liquid flies off,
joining together around his hands and fusing with his flesh. It's positivity filthy. He feels his skin
begin to rot just from the contact as he fuses with the world. But he reaches out, pulling on some
unseen string. And pulls.
The basement begins to rip apart at the seams. Mimic screams in surprise in pain as his body shifts
and pulls. Hisashi evades as best he can, but even with all of his fancy flips and acrobatics it's
impossible not to get bogged down in the concrete mudslide. Kai continues to pull on the string,
pushing his Quirk as far as it can take him. A hole opens up in the ceiling, showing the black night
sky above the compound. It's only upon seeing it does Kai stop. He looks dead ahead, where
Hisashi sits, trapped in sludge.
"I'm going to break you down, atom by atom," Kai snarls, marching forward and taking pleasure in
the fear in Hisashi's eyes. "Every bit of you will be in a different country by the time I'm done. And
you'll be alive for all of it. You'll feel every single chuck of rotten, disgusting, dishonorable flesh
you call your body wriggling around, dying as they bleed."
Hisashi winces as Kai approaches, but steels himself in a mask of apathy. Once Kai gets within
three meters, his demeanor changes. The man smirks. "That sounds hot as fu—"
"Phantom Threat!"
A blur of white and red and blue clouds Kai's vision. In less than a second he and Hisashi are
struck across the face with enough force to down a horse. Kai is only saved by his enchantments.
He doesn't want to think about what unholy trick Hisashi had to pull to remain awake.
"Hero!" Kai hears Mimic yell.
"Leave them be!" Kai orders. "We've done nothing wrong here." Kai turns his attention back to
Hisashi before looking around for the hero. "There's no probable cause for arrest. We were
attacked and are only acting in defense. Let him take the intru—"
"Got ya!" Kai takes an uppercut to the jaw. He sees stars and stubbles backwards. "And as far as I
know, everyone here is wanted for questioning. Would you like to come quietly or put up a fight?"
Kai narrows his eyes and the hero takes it for his answer. The blond man smiles. On any other
occasion, Kai would mistake it for warmth, but there's a sharpness to it. A just barely too bright
sheen that sends shivers down his spine. He can feel in his bones that this won't be an easy one. He
wastes no time in attempting to rip the man to pieces with spikes.
"That's what I thought!" the man laughs, laughs as he sinks into the ground, cape fluttering in his
wake. He pops back up a second later, kicking Kai's knee out from under him. "No one ever
chooses to come quietly! Am I really that nice looking?" He disappears again only to come from
the ceiling and smash his elbow into Kai's skull.
"I mean, really, I'm not that nice looking. Don't I look mean? Especially when I'm kicking your
butt?" Kai howls in rage as blow after blow lands.
"Ah, whatever. It's time to end this anyway. Just don't let the finisher ruffle your feathers!"
Somehow someway, the hero hits Kai again, harder than anything he's ever felt. He feels all the air
leave his lungs and hears his ribs crack. He loses his grip on Overhaul, and all the bits of the world
he absorbed fall off. He barely keeps away, only holding on by sheer adrenaline and stubbornness.
A shadow crosses his face. The hero stands over him, blindingly bright.
"Get it? Cause of the bird mask?"
"Quit the hero gig!" Hisashi calls. "You'll make it big in stand-up comedy."
"Thanks! I really—oop!" A chunk of wall phases through the hero's head. The man, who has a
bright golden 1,000,000 written across his chest, sinks into the ground. "I was wondering where
you went!" the hero says as he phases in and out of the walls Mimic controls. Not a single bit of
stone hits him. His evasion and timing are perfect.
"Shut up and die!"
"No can do!" The hero makes a pass for where Mimic's head sticks out of the wall, but Mimic
hides away before the blow can land. Kai takes the moment to collect himself, but the hero
blindsides him and knocks him to the ground again. "Nice try, but you're not forgotten just yet,
Chisaki."
Kai plays dead. There's no point in fighting when he doesn't know anything and when he's clearly
outmatched. So he begins to think. More heroes are on their way, so there's a time limit. Perhaps a
long one by combat standards, if only because they'll have to round up his subordinates out of
suspension or perceived threat. But there's also another villain out there, killing his men. As much
as he'd loathe to admit it, this could be the end of the Shie Hassaikai.
"Blinder Touch…" Kai forces himself to watch as the hero gears up for a finisher. A brutal one if
the length of the build up is anything to go by. Mimic is hardly close to defeat despite the way he
looks so brokenly at Hisashi. But with super moves… "Eyeball Cru—!"
"Broken Pedestal!"
The floor cracks. That's the only way Kai can comprehend it—the scale and swiftness won't
register otherwise. Veins carve into the stone and dirt, even though puddles of water as they spread,
alive but reeking of death. They travel up the walls, causing stone to flake off in ash as they spread
their cancerous rot. The noise is that of cracking ice, and the smell makes Kai taste corpses on his
tongue. The decay feels like it lasts an eternity, but it all halts seconds after it started.
"That's what your type does, isn't it?" Kai looks over to see a hooded figure, hunched over and lop-
shouldered with their neck bent like a hanged man. Hate oozes out of him, bitter and vile as vomit.
It takes a moment before Kai realizes it's directed at the hero. "Glorifying violence. Using it for
your own gain. Profiting off suffering. Turning yourselves into comic book characters. You just
love it, don't you?"
"Sir, you're going to have to surrender," the hero says, casting a glance to where Mimic is. Or was.
The man is more dust than flesh or stone now, something that makes Kai's blood boil. "You just
committed murder and assult of a hero. You'll be placed into custody along with everyone else
involved tonight. I'm giving you—"
The cracks spread again. Kai moves, not willing to leave his life up to fate again after the miracle
that spared him. He jumps, brushing the ground before it melts to form a platform to stand on. The
decay spreads but spares him and Mimic. The hero sinks into the floor.
"He's an idiot," the new villain rasps, almost laughing. "He's going to pop up right under me and
try to knock me out, isn't he?"
"He beat me and Overall at the same time," Hisashi says. "I wouldn't—"
The hero appears again, twisting out from the ceiling and curling into a falling kick. He drops his
heel on Hisashi's head, knocking him out. The hero stands, leaning against the pillar Hisashi is
trapped in. But something begins to change.
Hisashi melts. His skin flows off of him in sheets, grey and thick. It hits the floor with a slap,
shocking Kai and the hero as a blonde teenage girl takes the place of a grown man. She's out cold,
with bruises dotting her face and neck. "H-how?"
The villain sighs as though he's tired with the entire world. "It's not that hard to figure out. It's all a
plant. Everything. These Yakuza freaks have something we want, and we're willing to lie, kill, and
torture for it. What are you going to do about it?"
"I—"
"I'm not done. You're at a disadvantage." The villain looks at his nails, filing the tip of his index
finger with his thumb. "I want to kill you and Overhaul. And I can do it. Overhaul wants to kill you
and me. And he can do it. There's two people with killing power here, and you're not one of them.
You're good—damn good. UA highschool student Togata Mirio, correct?"
The hero stiffens but forces a humorous smile. "Yeah, that's my name. Do me a solid and don't
wear it out."
"You're either going to die down here, or fail." The villain flicks a bit of blood from under his
fingernail, letting it decay as it falls to the ground. "Overhaul and I will fight you. Together. It's for
both of our benefits. And then we'll sort it out afterwards. Or you'll be forced to retreat. Your
agency is good, but small. If they're here, they'll be dealing with low level thugs for a while. You're
who they're counting on to knock out the biggest threats. And you can't."
"What makes you so sure?" The hero stands up taller, pushing his chest out with his hands on his
hips. "I already beat Chisaki once. I'll do it again and take you down. I'll make sure you never see
the light of day again for what you plan to do with those bullets."
"You're bluffing. More false bravado they teach you at that stupid school of yours. It won't work."
"Nah. You're the one bluffing." The hero scratches his nose, suddenly perfectly at ease. "If you
could actually kill me, you'd have done it already. So therefore…" he sinks into the ground. Kai
and the villain brace for impact. It never comes.
"He's gone," Kai grunts, touching his face and healing all of his injuries. Regrettably, there's no
cure for his fatigue. He stands, looking at the decay villain. "You'll never get what you want."
"No," the villain says, glancing around at the destruction and the open sky. The moon shines,
bright and perfect. The stink of destruction prevails over all, and there isn't a hero in sight. "I
already have."
Nothing will, of course, change the fact that heroes are still on their way. Yet there's a cruel ease in
how the villain gets ready for war; it makes Kai impressed and enraged at the same time. Though
he does his best to do the same, he can't ignore the fact that he lost tonight. His organization is
dead. He doesn't realize that Erin is gone until it's too late.
[x]
"No limit to the brutality, human remains were found in no less than ten different buildings—"
"Heroes did respond, but Nighteye Agency's initial strike team was not equipped to—"
"Disgusting! No one knows who did it! All we have are three dead heroes, a bunch of Yakuza, and
a missing g—"
"We're gathered here to mourn the loss of—"
"People in the streets, screaming for All Might. We need our pillar! Our country is not capable of
standing without him! Please, sir, come—"
"A whole fucking building blew up, and it took five minutes for an effective response. That isn't
right. Either all of our heroes that were stationed in that area were slacking, or there's a lea—"
The screen flicks off.
"Fascinating, isn't it? This world is so chaotic, so backwards, so unsure. There's no order. No one is
in charge to steer the carriage where it needs to go. And worst of all is the people.
"They rape, they steal, they murder, they torture. They care not for feelings or morals, though they
invented them. It's hell out there, and you bore the brunt of it. You were hurt for another one's gain.
Brutalized so someone else could get what they wanted. It's the epitome of the human experience.
Don't you think it should end? Don't you want no one else to suffer as you have suffered?
"I thought so. That's why I picked you up from that rubble. You were right to be scared, but I will
help you. I am no hero, but none of them ever did anything for you anyway. However, I'm willing
to take action. I'm willing to force change to happen, for the benefit of people like you. Doesn't that
sound nice?"
A face nods against the fabric of his suit. He smiles. "And worry not, my child. For I can take your
curse away." Tiny fists clench into the silk of a waistcoat. All for One grins as the girl sways into
his clutches.
"Thank you, Sensei."
Chapter End Notes
A whole chapter without Izuku. Yay ie nay? I don't like chaining the story to him all
the time and this seemed like a fun way to progress a few plot lines. A nice break from
Izuku and the kids before going right back to them. I think. Depends on how long the
next few plot points take, you know?
Also holy shit this took a while. I didn't intend to be busy, but life happens. I never
stopped working on my fics though, so don't worry. I don't plan on taking a hiatus. I
hope you enjoyed, sorry if it's not as long as you'd have liked. Cheers!
Discord? Discord.
Weakness
Chapter Notes
The snow wakes him. The warmth of his body melted the fine, frozen powder, soaking the cloth of
his cloak. Cold water seeps into his skin now, drawing out shivers. His eyes flutter open. Lashes
peel apart, breaking free of the ice as his nostrils begin to thaw out. The world is cold and
unwelcoming, black and white in a dead monochrome. The cabin is exactly how he remembers it.
"How do you not have hypothermia?"
Danger. Just a hit of it, like a badger holding its ground. Hikage cracks his neck, drawing his legs
up under him and standing tall. The person steps back, but only enough to lower their center of
mass. Hikage turns to look at them, casting out Danger Sense's net just a little further. Nothing
imminent.
"Luck." Hikage holds the gaze of the woman before him for just a brief moment. She's average.
Black hair, brown eyes, soot covered skin that's quite dark even if you ignore all the black
smudges, and maybe just a little more muscle than average. The only thing that makes her special
is the crossbow slung over her shoulder and the quiver of bolts at her hip.
"Luck doesn't save you from twenty-five degrees below freezing. Plus wind." The woman rests her
hands on her hips, shifting her left foot a centimeter or so against the floor. Hikage ignores her boot
and continues to look at her hips. Her center of gravity is lowered slightly, and her heavy coat is
parted at the bottom. The edge of a leather holster peaks though. Probably for a knife.
"I'm a meta-human," Hikage says, casually turning on his heel and scooping out his few belongings
off the floor. "One of those nut jobs too, not the pretty ones you see fighting for rights on TV. I
don't want to fight but I think it's best if we part ways and forget we ever—" his spine tingles.
Hikage catches one of the crossbow bolts between his fingers, bending the tip away from his
ribcage. He turns, breaking it in half as he fixes the woman with an unimpressive look. "You're
jumpy," she says, casually drawing her knife. "And fast. Speed type? No, probably durability. I'm
guessing you fought a little in the Schism."
"I think it's best if we part ways," Hikage repeats, carefully pulling One for All to bear on his body.
"No one has to die."
"Maybe. But this is one of my safehouses, you're technically a target, and I can't exactly afford
loose ends."
She lunges with the knife. Hikage steps back, dropping low before slipping forward. He bats her
arm away, reaching for the one without the knife. She swiftly counters, pivoting on her heel to
strike him across the face with her elbow. Or she would've if Hikage didn't see it coming.
He bends over backwards, bowing his spine to form a bridge with his body. One for All warms his
skin, causing the melted snow to evaporate as he sweeps the woman off her feet with his legs.
From then on it's a simple matter of pinning her to the floor and tying her up with a piece of her
own rope.
"Meta-hunter," Hikage says tiredly as he combs through the host of times in the woman's pockets.
He finds a small military ration bar and unwraps it, looking her in the eyes as he takes a bite. "An
Imperialist or freelance?"
"You think I'd have shit equipment if I was funded by those rich idiots?"
"Hm." Hikage takes a look through her wallet, ignoring the yen for the small picture where an ID
would normally go. "A family," he says, admiring the trio of people on the faded paper.
"All dead, you don't have any leverage there."
Hikage scoffs, tossing the photo back to the woman. Her hands bound, she watches as it floats
down to a stop on her lap, expression cautious. "I'm above that. Though you probably aren't, being
a murderer and all."
"I don't murder," the woman says calmly. "I collect bounties. Alive, dead or alive, sometimes dead.
But I'm no murderer. Just a rugged working woman."
"How many metas have you collected payment for?" Hikage wonders out loud. "A good many I'd
guess, considering the fact that you're still alive at what? Twenty eight? Last I heard your kind
barley makes it past twenty."
"'Your kind,'" the woman mocks. "That shit is why metas are being hunted. Just cause you walked
out of a comic book doesn't make you better than all the normal people out there."
"Sure, but I don't deserve to die for it." Hikage stands, finishing the ration bar in one more bite
before crumpling the wrapper and dropping it. "Have you ever worked for All for One?"
The woman stiffens, expression sourering. "No."
Hikage chuckles, soft yet confident. "That's a lie. You've been around him, those who haven't don't
flinch just from the name."
"He killed my family."
"He's killed thousands of families," Hikage argues. "Mine, yours, everyone's. But you said I was
technically a target. As far as I know, there isn't a single bounty for me that lists my appearance. I
cover my tracks very well, and no other man who can foot bounties on metas is willing to cast the
net out for any random mutant a hunter can snag. Only All for One does such a thing."
The woman closes her eyes, relaxing in her bonds. Hikage feels a tingle in the back of his throat.
He cocks his head to the side as a bright white laser of light shoots from her eyes. It hits the wall
behind him, starting a small fire. "I'm no good to you dead, traitor."
The woman's eyes open, lids parted too wide to be comfortable as her irises fade to a milky white.
"I had no loyalty to begin with. All for One pays well, and there's no one alive who can kill him.
It's best to move on to the past and live the best life possible."
A wave of disgust washes over Hikage, and he resists the urge to scream. "You've backstabbed
your family, and all you can say is that it's wasteful to dwell on it?"
"Don't put words in my mouth."
"I didn't, I'm simply reading between the lines." Hikage kneels down, sinking to look her in the
eyes. She holds firm but blinks rapidly. Her eyes look painfully white and bloodshot. No wonder
All for One didn't take her Quirk. "I should kill…"
"Kill what?" the woman demands, trying to kick at Hikage through the ropes. "Me? Yeah, no shit.
I'll kill you once I get the cha—"
"Shut up." Hikage stands and walks over to the edge of the cabin. "I—shit." His head throbs, and
his cups the side of his face. His bad eye squeezes shut, scar burning. Danger Sense screams inside
his mind, out of his control. Something inside him brutally tugs on the strings, pointing him to
where lives lie close to death.
"What the hell…"
"Is there a village nearby?" Hikage demands. He shakes as the information rips through his head,
forced to drink in every detail. Yet at the same time, it all slips between his fingers. "M-maybe a
fire watch station for the forest? Or anything?"
"There's a small down of a hundred three kilometers up the mountain," the woman says. "Why?"
"They armed?"
"Not well. Why?" she asks again.
"Bandits," Hikage mutters, drawing his cloak up around his shoulders. "Twenty two. Ten with meta
abilities, the rest with guns. They'll be there in twenty minutes. We're going to protect the village."
And all at once the pain is gone. Distantly, Hikage feels a warmth in the bitter winter. Pride, but
not his own, and even he hesitates to call it that. It's far closer to satisfaction with a hint of
melancholy.
"There's no 'we' in this conversation."
"There is."
"No. You can go fight and die playing hero. I'm getting the hell away."
Hikage smiles, thin and strained. The best he can manage given how the air nips at the flesh of his
face. "Oh, but there's ten meta-humans down there. Wouldn't All for One love some fresh Quirks?"
The woman stills. "And you called me a traitor."
"They're going to kill people," Hikage says, shrugging. "Innocents. As far as I'm aware, they
deserve some sort of punishment. So I'll cut a deal with you. I help you secure a few bounties and
in exchange you bring me to All for One. If it makes it a better deal, both of our lives are on the
line."
"You're crazy." The woman sighs and relaxes. "But it's a win-win for me. What do you even want
to see the bastard for?"
"To kill him."
"You literally just said that you can't fight all of them on your own!"
Hikage stretches his arms out, feeling the heat of One for All beating in his soul. "True. I'm
decently strong and experienced, but I'm not a frontline fighter." The power courses through his
body, young and unsteady but stubborn in its goals. It's the only part of the Quirk that Hikage
actually understands. "But I guess we'll just have to make up for that."
"I don't understand how a… a… A PHONE CALL IS HERE!"

Izuku shoots up in bed, adrenaline running rampant in his mind. Danger Sense acts on its own
accord, silently screaming about speeding drivers and someone undercooking chicken three houses
down.
He forces the Quirk to stop, grasping complete control and shutting it off as he sits up in bed. Izuku
fumbles for his phone, silencing it and blinking away the sleep from his eyes to see the screen. He
sees the contact and wonders what's going on. Then, reasoning that it's probably important, taps the
screen and holds the phone to the side of his face.
"Mirio? What's up?"
"It's… hi." Mirio's voice is low and soft, as though he's afraid of waking someone up or getting
caught. "Is this a bad time?"
"For?" Izuku asks, rubbing his eyes and looking at his clock. "It's like three. What do you need?"
"Someone to talk to."
"Ok. When and where?"
"Roof of my house. How soon?"
"For you? Less than five."
Izuku's there in two minutes. Half of that was just him getting dressed—borderline supersonic
speed sort of makes short distance travel times non-existent. It's something he's grateful for,
especially now.
He lands on the room or Mirio's house, perfectly silent. He lets the electricity trickle off of him,
lighting the area. He hears a shift of a shoe on the tile of the roof, followed by someone walking
along the very top of the building's point to meet him. Izuku brightens even more and smiles,
reaching forward to embrace his friend.
"You good?" Izuku asks, resting his chin on his friend's shoulder. The bare flesh of his neck and
hands feels the rough cloth of Mirio's hero costume, grime and sweat rubbing off unpleasantly.
Izuku ignores it, gently squeezing Mirio's torso.
"Definitely not." Mirio's voice cracks, his overwhelming positivity giving way to something much
more dark and reserved. "I… can't."
"Can't what?"
"I dunno, I just… ugh." He pulls away, sitting down on the roof with his legs crossed and his head
in his hands. Izuku sits with him, draping an arm around his shoulders. Mirio's breathing begins to
quicken, picking up from the calm Izuku felt in their hug. Shoulds shake and blood rushes. Izuku
gently strokes Mirio's back, holding his silence for a moment.
"It just happened, didn't it?" Izuku says softly, voice barely a whisper. "Whatever it was, anyway.
Breathe. Go ahead and cry, too. I'll be here."
It takes a while. Izuku doesn't bother to even think about how much time passes, but even
unconsciously he knows it's a lot. Mirio cries for most of it, letting out soft, choked sobs and
whimpers. They gradually slow, becoming softer too. Eventually Mirio sits up, face stained wet
with tears.
"People are dead because of me."
Izuku stills, unsure of how to proceed. "…Do you feel comfortable talking about it?"
"Maybe? I." Mirio stops, cringing as he looks away to wipe his face with the glove of his costume.
"I just. How… how do you live with it? I can barely look at my own hands, and—"
"Breathe," Izuku says, grabbing Mirio by the forearm and making the other boy look at him. He
feels his pulse too, feeling the heightened pulse. It's unlikely that he's in shock, but there's a chance
of him working his way into a panic attack. "You're fine. You're safe. You can't do anything if
you're not calm, alright? I know it seems impossible but you just have to breathe."
"Okay." Mirio looks up at the sky, trying to focus on anything other than the thoughts in his head.
He squeezes his fists, relaxing them a moment later with a slow, controlled exhale. Izuku gives him
a few more moments.
"Can you think?" he asks, letting a little bit of a joking tone slip into his voice. The corner of
Mirio's lips twitches upward as he nods.
"Yeah. I don't like it."
"I thought so."
"How… how'd you get through it?"
Izuku blinks, gazing up at the sky with Mirio as he tries to think. "I didn't," he settles on, tracing a
constellation with his eyes. "I… all I did was shut myself in and force an agreement that was really
selfish. I'm… well, it still affects me, but the reason I'm through it is because of you guys."
"You went to therapy."
"Yeah. But I only started to talk and get better after I got my way." Izuku closes his eyes, shutting
out the soft starlight and cool moonbeams. "Those few days before the final raid were hell, you
know. Everything was cold and empty. I… I'm not an angry person, but I guess anger sorta how I
deal with grief and failure, you know? But that's just as bad as crying or getting depressed.
Probably worse. I might've broken completely then, if I didn't have friends and family who loved
and cared for me."
Miro sits for a long while. He opens his mouth a few times, closing it quickly after, clearly not
ready. Izuku continues to offer silent support, breathing evenly as he watches the stars.
"It was a brawl at first. You know the type, right? Where two hotshots let their emotions get the
better of them?" Miro forces a bitter chuckle. "God, Sir's gonna kill me for spilling it all, but—" he
pulls out his phone and checks the time, "—four hours ago we got called in to break it up. We were
told we'd be getting reinforcements 'cause our agency is so small and it was in a known Yakuza
hotbed. But Nighteye's agency is the closest so we got to be the scouts."
"I've done the same," Izuku says, more to spur Mirio along than to add his own thoughts."
"We didn't think much of it," Mirio says, nodding his agreement. "It was just something routine
and basic. Then right as we got there, Sir pulled me aside and told me that he'd been casing the
Yakuza and their operations for a few months. He said that we had an opertunity."
"What for?"
"To stop the Quirk erasers."
Izuku takes a deep breath, connecting all of the dots at light speed. "Did someone…"
"Three. And they…" Mirio shakes his head. "Later. But at the time I was on board, you know? So I
went along with his idea. That I'd go down to where the main brawl was and the rest of the agency
would work through the complex to find and destroy any labs if there were any there."
"I… there weren't any labs," Izuku assumes. Mirio nods.
"Yeah. I should've figured that you were following the case. Did you hear about the girl?"
"What girl?"
"The head of Shie Hassaikai has a daughter." Mirio's voice cracks. "Or something. It's all really
unclear. She's rarely seen, and is only ever in public with him. Wearing bandages. S-sir pulled me
aside right before we breached and said he'd be looking for her, and if I ever managed to take out
the villains I should help with the search."
"Is… is it a potential child abuse case?" Izuku asks gently.
"Not that we know of. Or that it really matters." Miro smiles bitterly. "I stayed for the final head
count, you know. Because we had to tally the dead. Three pros, a handful of Yakuza, and six
sidekicks. Not a single person under twenty to be spoken for, except me."
Izuku doesn't push, but he locks eyes with Mirio, trying to convey polite curiosity as well as care.
They both blink and Izuku gets the feeling that he managed to do it.
"No on could find her. We found chunks of the old boss—not the Chisaki guy, the old old one—
and we counted every single person and matched them. We're only missing the people who struck
first and the girl. And I… well, it's really all on me."
"Mirio…"
"I should've prioritized looking for her sooner," Mirio insists. "I should've picked my battles better.
I should've taken someone else with me or been a scout. But I tried to win it all in one and lost."
"There's no perfect thing for me to say." Izuku pauses, flexing his fingers absently as he tries to
word his ideas into something coherent. "It's… you're right, it's like what happened to me. You
remember what I was like, right?"
"Yeah."
"And you remember how badly you wanted to snap me out of it."
"I… that was more Nejire. I just wanted you to be safe and better."
"It's possible that you could've made a bad call," Izuku says, "but you're looking at it now. Hours
after it happened. You have the hindsight, but it's so fresh that you're still feeling the emotional
impact of it really strongly. It's… normal to beat yourself up. I would be too. Anyone would. It's
not good, though." Izuku stops, not sure of how to go on.
"I have to put myself back together, don't I?"
"There's no reason for you to do it alone. I didn't. Talk to me. Or Tamaki or Nejire. You should
talk to them, even."
"I will. But I… I feel like I need to do something about anything. I have to get back up, you
know?"
"Yeah."
"That's about the most heroic thing I can do after tonight." Mirio pulls of his gloves and unhooks
his cape, setting them both in his lap. "I failed."
"You didn't."
"I did. I don't care what sort of good and smart and emotionally considerate logic you have, I didn't
do what I was supposed to tonight. And I fell awful. But this number—" he points to his chest,
where the gold numerals gleam, dull in the moonlight, "isn't going to mean a thing if I don't pull
myself back together. Heroes get back up, always."
Izuku smiles, fondly looking at his friend. "Okay. But who says they've got to do it alone?"
[x]
"Do you have any idea of who that woman might've been?"
All Might shakes his head, still studying the notes Izuku had hastily scribbled in the margins of a
notebook just a few hours previously. "There's nothing concrete about the lives of any of our
predecessors until Nana. Six has the most but he was very private. Five predates our current system
of bookkeeping, and anyone before…"
"The world was too busy fighting to bother." Izuku leans back in his chair, trying to call up
memories of the dream. "She didn't feel familiar or significant. Whenever I'm a previous user, the
only people that I can really recall are the users and All for One. But I remember her really well
even though she feels like no one."
"It's possible that she was just part of another story." All Might closes the notebook and slides it
back to Izuku. "Are you sure she wasn't Japanese?"
"Yeah. She didn't really have an accent, though. Or did she?" Izuku shakes his head. "I don't know.
Everything's just a mess and it's so weird. I can remember every detail of her face and the cabin
Four was in, but I can't hear her voice. I know exactly what they said, too. It doesn't make any
sense."
"It's possible that your mind is beginning to grow accustomed to One for All." All Might gently
raps the side of his head with his knuckles. "I never really dived into it. The power came more or
less naturally and was at a level that I could use one hundred perfect right out of the gate. You
weren't like that at all."
"It still doesn't explain why you never received dreams."
"I did, just very few."
"Still." Izuku rubs his temples. He takes a few long, controlled breaths. "You should have had
some of this, right? What do you remember from the dreams?"
All Might stills. "They weren't pleasant." Izuku cringes.
"You don't—"
"I do." All Might arches an eyebrow. "This is important. It might seem like something small, but
the fact that your remembering them in such detail but are still missing pieces has to mean
something."
"If you're sure…"
"Well, for starters, they weren't in first person." All Might looks out the window of his office,
trying to picture something in his minds eye. "I was always I viewer. Off to the side and completely
sure of myself. You get stuck feeling like the body your in. Weird, huh?"
"I can't say I expected it all to line up."
"True. But all of mine were of important things. Battles and the transfer of One for All." All Might
laces his long fingers. "I… I learned a great deal about All for One's tactics from watching his
battle with Nana. I got practice dealing with his psychological attacks as well. It's partly why I
managed to wound him as badly as I did. However, what you described is rather forigen to me."
"I don't think I've ever been a passive viewer," Izuku wonders aloud. "If I had to guess, I'd probably
agree with what you said. We're different. I base so much of myself off of you, but fundamentally
we're not the same at all. I wish I could ask it what it all means."
"You could try contacting the first," All Might suggests. "If anyone, it'd be him who'd know what's
going on."
"I've never contacted one of them on my own terms." Izuku thinks back to all the visions he's had.
"Every conversation I've had was after doing something important to them. They came to me
because they wanted to. Or it was right after a dream and our minds were just really close. I don't
think I've ever called them."
"I think," All Might says slowly, "that it's best if you keep dreaming. There's not severe side effects
to it, and every time it happens we learn something new. Though I'd proceed with caution. We're
fumbling around in the dark. It could be completely empty, or there could be a nasty surprise
waiting for us. But we just might find a light switch."
Izuku snorts, standing up and grabbing his notebook. "I'm going to lock this somewhere safe. Are
you good to start class on or own or are the kids too much for you?"
All Might sniffs and pushes his chest out, a curious yet stern look of faux superiority written on his
face. "I'll have you know that I am plenty strong. One more visit to recovery girl and I'll be fully
healed, and the fires of One for All have yet to completely vanish from my soul."
"I think you'll have to work on putting some muscle back on," Izuku says with a smile. "Otherwise
you'll end up like me with three broken limbs."
"Well, number Nine," All Might says, standing as he slips back into his suit vest, "we'll just have to
see when I test my body out."
"I'll be looking forward to that."
They both leave the office more or less ready for the day. All Might walks with his hands in his
pockets, listening attentively as Izuku chatters on about the progress of the students. They draw a
few nods as they head for the gym where their class is held, mostly from teachers. A few third
years greet them, though most are too hurried to get to class to offer more than a quick 'hey.'
"They're almost ready, then."

"Well, I feel like if he held them off for any longer they'd riot." Izuku lets out a little huff of
amusement as they draw closer to the athletic training building. "How long has it been since the
start of school?"
"A month and a half is a long time for hero students to be deprived of combat training," All Might
agrees. "But I still think it's the right choice. I'd much rather build them up gradually and make
sure their bodies aren't completely civilian."
"I agree. It'll make their bodies more tolerant to Quirk exhaustion, too." Izuku reaches for the door
handle and pulls it open, waving for All Might to go first.
"I suppose that'll do for a reason. Teenagers tend to need those, especially for when we've been
delaying their fun."
"Fun?"
Izuku and All Might stop just inside the gym. All twenty of the hero course students are strewn
about, some walking, some stretching, and some running. Izuku smiles at Ojiro before exchanging
glances with All Might. "Yeah. Fun. Should I…"
"I think I'll take care of it this time," All Might says, wetting his lips and bringing his pinkies into
the corners of his mouth. He takes in a deep breath, one much larger than he could before with just
one lung, and blows. The sound is piercingly high. Everyone freezes and hurries over, some
rubbing their ears.
"Who wants to share what they think we've got planned for today?" All Might asks.
"Conditioning?"
"Yes, good one, Iida. That'll come after." Izuku bites back a smile as half the class shoots Tenya a
host of dirty looks for reminding All Might that it's a heavy endurance day. "We have a treat, first
though."
"An actual fun one," Izuku says, stepping in. "Not like the pushup contest. Today's going to be
combat focused."
A nervous excitement fills the air as students restrain themselves from voicing their feelings. Izuku
lets himself laugh, letting them know it's all okay. And then the questions start. Izuku doesn't even
bother with trying to listen, since trying to pick out one against forty is impossible. Instead, he
looks to All Might, who holds up a hand. The class falls mostly silent after a moment.
"Thank you. Now, I understand that UA is famed for its amazing heroics and combat classes," All
Might begins. "It's probably what drew most of you here along with your heroic ambitions. But this
isn't a heroics or combat class. It's a physical training one. That's what the focus will be. What have
Aizawa and Vlad gone over in their lessons?"
"In Fundamentals of Heroics?" Shiozaki Ibara asks. "We've mostly been taught laws and common
practices. Once a week we put on our hero costumes and practice using our Quirks on non living
targets."
"Good. That's what should be done."
"But that's so boring," Ashido complains. "Didn't Deku's class have live combat on the second
day?"
"I did," Izuku admits,"and ignoring how odd it is that you know that, it's not something UA wants
to continue doing. Last year there weren't any major injuries, however in previous years there were
as many as ten in a single class period."
"Though no fault of your own, you kids come in with almost no training in Quirk control."
"The only thing most of you knew going into the entrance exam was on and off," Izuku says. "Or it
should've been. That's the law for civilians. Now, I'm sure a lot of you had a little practice, but
nothing like what hero students need. Unless you were recommended."
"That's why we focus so much on control. Young people like you are quite dangerous at this stage.
But I personally dislike the hesitance on Aizawa's part to allow live training." All Might's words
relight a spark of energy in the students. A few smile, though most settle for eager fidgeting or
curious eyes. "Half of today's class will be sparing. You'll be in costume, but not allowed to use
your Quirks."
"Oh, come on!"
"This is a physical education class," Izuku reminds the students. "We're doing this because it's a
great way of keeping in shape and building a foundation for your other hero classes. And besides,
you're getting a double header of Quirk training next week."
"We are?"
"Yeah. Next Friday are your first real combat trials. The day before is a rescue exercise, at our USJ
facility."
"No spoilers," All Might jokes. Izuku smiles and shakes his head in amusement. "You can all talk
about how excited you are later," the man says, cutting off any cheers. "Go get changed into your
hero gear and meet back here in ten. Don't worry about warming up, I've got that covered."
Eleven minutes later, Izuku finds himself doing a headcount of the students while trying to ignore
how poorly designed their costumes are. He blames the tendency for younger teens to prefer form
over function. Seriously, Mineta wearing a bowl for pants and Shoto up and covering half of his
body in ice shouldn't have made it through the first draft of design.
"We're missing one," Izuku reports.
"It's Uraraka. She had to go to the bathroom so she's a little behind. Ribbit."
"Thanks, Tsu." Izuku turns to All Might. "Do you want to start expl—"
"I'm here!" All eyes dart over to the door, everyone watching Uraraka jog over, hair in a mess and
face bright red. "Sorry, it won't happen again."
"It's alright," All Might assures. "Now, let's get started with a few laps before you stretch."
Everyone rushes the warmup. Well, people like Shoto and Bakugo and Yaoyorozu don't, but
they're outliers. Everyone else tries to speed it up, because even if they won't be using their powers,
sparring is still sparring. Izuku can't exactly blame them. He just hopes they hit the icebath after.
"Are we going somewhere else?" Tenya asks as all of the students gather back around Izuku and
All Might. "It seems a little… harsh to spar on a gym floor."
"You'll be fine without padding. Izuku has barley used the padded rooms and he's fine." All Might
gives a playful knock to Izuku's head to demonstrate. "Though perhaps in the future we'll head to
our more… forgiving facilities. Today will be alright, though. You won't work too hard, just
enough to get a good workout in and get a hold of the basics."
"How many of you have had actual hand to hand combat training before?" Izuku asks. Yaoyorozu,
Shoto, Tenya, Setsuna, Juzo, and Ojiro raise their hands. "Perfect. Even numbers. You'll be
parented with each other. The rest of you should find someone about your size."
"Would anyone like to volunteer?" All Might asks as the students quickly organize themselves with
their friends. "Preferably one of you who knows what you're doing."
"I guess I could?" Ojiro says. "What will I be doing?"
"Sparing me."
Ojiro looks at Izuku for a solid ten seconds, unblinking. The rest of the class is split between
giggles and mumbling. "Please go easy?"
"You and your partner will be grappling," All Might explains as Izuku sheds his blue warm-up
jacket and tucks his necklace under the collar of his tank top. "No punches or kicks unless you're
told otherwise. Just stick to wrestling and try to come up with a few moves of your own. Izuku and
Ojiro will demonstrate. They won't let it be too one sided."
Someone snorts. Izuku ignores it in favor of inviting his partner up in front of the class. Ojiro sizes
Izuku up, albeit a little unconfident. "When do we start?" he asks.
"Whenever you're ready."
Ojiro's first step is good. It's clear that he's fought a lot before, if only because he still tries to get a
good first strike against someone who out-classes him. Izuku lets Ojiro get a hold on the back of
his neck, allowing the younger boy to start a takedown. He leans eight he force, slipping a foot
behind Ojiro's heel as he grabs on. He pulls with his leg and pushes with his hands, shoving Ojiro
towards the ground by his chest and gut.
"Let's just stick with that for now," All Might adises. "Wrestle and hand fight until one of you gets
taken down then start over. Try not to break anything!"
The rest of the class passes quickly. Izuku gives a few tips and praises his underclassmen, making
sure everyone's being smart and taking the spars seriously but also letting them know it's okay to
enjoy it. He takes notes on who's picking up on the skills quickly, and on who'd have the most use
for hand to hand combat. Uraraka and Kaminari are the first two to catch his eye, quickly followed
by Kirishima and Tetsutetsu. He does his best to push those four the most.
They take to his encouragement really well, understanding his reasoning and reacting with glee.
They're the most worn out by the end—Uraraka specifically—but they're still smiling. Izuku tries
not to show his pride.
When class wraps up, Izuku hangs out just outside the door to the locker room. Or locker building,
really, since the thing is freestanding and bigger than his new house. He says goodbye to all of
them—it makes him late for his own next lesson but he could care less. It's much better to bond
with his underclassmen in his opinion, and to make sure a few of them actually behave.
The fact that Mineta is always a straggler when they change has everything to do with that last
reason.
"Last one again?" Izuku asks as the short boy pushes open the door a solid two feet below where
the handle is.
"My costume is hard to get off?"
Izuku raises a single eyebrow.
"… I don't have a good reason."
"Look, I…" Izuku trails off, unsure of how to proceed. "I don't care that you flirt with people. But
when you're not respectful and try to hang after to peep, I have to step in. It's just not cool of you to
do that."
Mineta remains silent.
"I'll see you around. By—"
"Uraraka is still in there." Izuku gives him a warning look. "I didn't try anything! But she's still in
the locker room. And it's pretty quiet. The showers all stopped a while ago."
"Alright. See you tomorrow."
Mineta walks away and Izuku steps into the building. He walks over to where the door to the girl's
side is and knocks. "Hey, is anyone in here?"
There's no response. He knocks again.
"Hello? I only counted thirty nine walk out. So unless you snuck out, you're probably in here."
Still nothing. Worry crosses his mind. Izuku knocks a third time.
"I'm going to come in. Sorry for the breach of privacy."
She's just a few meters inside the door, sitting on a bench with her brown hair sticking to her neck
and shoulders. She's clothed, with a t-shirt and her school skirt, and a damp towel is wrapped over
her shoulders. It's an innocent sight, if he ignores how she's doubled over, clutching her stomach.
Izuku rushes over, sitting next to her on the bench. She tenses when he sits, but relaxes soon after.
Uraraka looks away from him, turning her torso towards the far wall. He looks her over, just trying
to see if she'd been injured in training. But there's no visible wounds.
"Are you—"
His question is cut short by a loud growling noise. From the way Uraraka clutches her stomach and
doubles over, Izuku sees two possibilities. One is very, very worrying and requires immediate
attention, and the other probably also needs attention, but it makes him feel like an idiot and
slightly embarrassed.
"'s'not my period."
"Oh, thank god."
Uraraka laughs, but another hunger pain cuts it off. Izuku resists the urge to give her a hug,
figuring it's better to let her have some space. "... Boys."
Izuku takes a breath. "... To be completely real, I was more afraid of being taken for an idiot or
some kind of mother hen. Not, you know…"
"I believe you."
"No, I really did."
"And I really believe you."
They fall silent, and Izuku carefully watches the rise and fall of her shoulders. "Please be honest.
How many good meals do you get a day?"
"One."
"Okay. Are your parents…"
"They'd never hurt me," she says, more than a little defensively. Izuku raises his hands, letting her
know that he's not threatening her family.
"I believe you. Um. Is it a money thing, then?"
Uraraka looks away, face a little flushed. "Yeah."
"Ok." Izuku leans back. As far back as he can on a bench, anyways. "When I first started lifting, I
had a meal plan. It was fine for a few months, and then my mom started having to dip into savings
to pay for it. It… being a hero student is expensive. Especially if you're not being helped by
someone financially like I was before I started my sidekick work. Meals are the worst."
"Tell me about it. How soon can doing this make me money?"
"Eight months." Izuku looks at her again, more closely this time. She's not starving to death, but
the evidence of malnutrition is clear. Washed out complexion, lack of fat and muscle definition,
and just an overall exhausted look.
"UA has breakfast and dinner. They're for teachers or staff working night shifts, but students can
eat too."
"Really?"
"Yeah. Do you live close by?"
"Yeah. I walk to school."
"Great. Just go to the cafeteria tomorrow anytime after six. It's all free, eat whatever. And talk to
Lunch Rush or Yagi," Izuku recommends. "They know a lot about nutrition. They'll get you back
on track."
"Thanks," Uraraka says, bumping her shoulder into his. "I…" she chokes up, closing her eyes. "I
don't know what I would've done without food."
"Thank you for letting me help you," Izuku says. "It's the least I can do. You're partly my
responsibility, and I'm not going to let you or anyone else starve or get hurt if I can help it. I'm a
hero after all."
Chapter End Notes

Stuff's on the horizon y'all. USJ, Sports Festival, Stain, it's all next up on the list. They
just may or may not be what you're expecting. I hope you enjoyed. Cheers.
Discord:
That Which Was Passed Down
Chapter Notes
"That's an awful lot of notes," his mother observes. Across the table, Izuku pauses, a forkful of eggs
half into his mouth. "I'm only half joking, those just look less organized than usual."
Izuku swallows his bite of breakfast and glances over his notes. "It's for a case," he explains. "Uh, I
guess it's sort of sensitive, but it's just me writing about people that were arrested and making
deductions about them. It's just for myself, Endeavor and the police won't use any of it."
"Well, maybe save it for after breakfast. You'll hardly have time to eat if you're working nonstop."
Izuku shrugs. "I'm sorry, but I can't help it. I just have to go, you know? There's things to be done."
"Just like your father," his mom says with a sigh. "I'm sure he's working himself to death
somewhere. If he hasn't put himself in the ground," she adds jokingly. Izuku forces a chuckle and
tries not to cough up his eggs.
"Y-yeah. Just like my old man, huh? Funny how that works. All my friends say I'm just like you."
"I suppose that's a good thing. I don't know how I'd handle a second Hisashi in my life." His
mother looks down at her plate of food, though her mind is clearly far away. She looks back up at
him after a moment. "He'd be proud of you."
Izuku smiles, ignoring the disappointing feeling in his gut. "Thanks, but… all that really matters is
you."
His mom rolls her eyes, attempting to hide her emotion. "I know, Izuku. But I just wish you
could've had a father growing up."
"I didn't need one," Izuku says. "And besides, I've got one now. Or five, I guess, if Nejire is to be
believed."
"I think she is. I can tell she's right, you know. And I've met with Aizawa and Torino and the rest.
You're in good hands."
"Yeah," Izuku agrees. "I'm so thankful for it."
As much as he would love to spend more time with his mother, Izuku is forced to leave for work
just a few minutes later. He arrives at the agency and suits up right away. He heads for Endeavor's
office without interruption, not even bothering to say hello to Shoto. He and Endeavor discussed a
few things after their most recent patrol, and it was evident that things were going to become more
intense. Izuku could feel it as he walked through the building, how sidekicks were just a little less
rowdy and how office workers sat still in their cubicles instead of mingling.
He reaches the top office and makes himself comfortable. He grabs a file from Endeavor's desk and
starts to flip through, comparing it with his notes. He pays special attention to anything directly
related to the Shie Hassaikai and its former members.
"We're working with Nighteye Agency from now on."

Izuku doesn't look up when the elevator rings. He keeps his eyes focused on the documents in his
lap, burning the words into his brain as he sits on Endeavor's desk. "Have our cases aligned?"
"Yes," Endeavor grunts, walking into the room from the elevator and setting a new file down on
his desk. "We've been stalking the same prey. The intelligence we've both gathered paints a clear
picture. The Quirk erasers were being hunted by something bigger."
"Any suspects?" Izuku asks. "There's a lot of people that want those things gone, on both sides of
the law."
"Nighteye thinks it could be a mole in the commission."
"How likely is that?"
Endeavor shrugs. "It's possible. However I feel that he is being too suspicious. You and I are
already on the case, along with Hawks. As far as anyone is concerned, we're the HPSC's
Wetworkers. It might've taken us time, but we'd have eliminated them eventually. Villains got to
them first, however."
"Hawks is in on this too?" Izuku asks.
"Unofficially. Too many big names on the same case kills any leads." Endeavor walks over to the
window to the left of his desk. "They'd all pack up and run if they even heard about us and
Nighteye joining forces. Add Hawks and you'd never see them again, so the commission has only
changed his patrols. Later in the day and in areas with greater amounts of Quirkless crime. He's
supposedly trying to bait an attack and catch them before they can execute it."
"He's had no luck with that, then," Izuku observes. "So far I've been the only hero to catch the
bullet users immediately after their attack."
"Hawks hasn't seen anything resembling a gun on his patrols," Endeavor says, agreeing. "The
bullets probably don't work on mutations. Only emitters and transformatives. But the search will
continue, even if the Yakuza clique behind it all is in near shambles."
"The villains did part of our job for us." Izuku gets up off the desk to stand by Endeavor. "I'd be
thankful if people weren't dead and if we didn't have a mess to sort through."
"The situation is less than ideal," Endeavor agrees. "However I've been informed that you and I
would have had no trouble fighting the leader of the strike. The villains picked on someone weaker
than them and then drew the attention from a group of heroes even weaker than that. Now they've
got one of the strongest strike teams on their backs."
"Even then, how soon will we be able to make a move?" Izuku asks. "There's so few leads. There's
evidence that the Shie Hassaikai have been quarreling with someone, but this new group could be
completely unrelated. Gang wars were common before All Might. They could just be returning
back to what they were previously."
Endeavor looks over his shoulder. Izuku watches as the man's eyes drift over to a book on his desk.
The golden letters shine in the light, but Izuku only recognizes them as the title of an old
propaganda book. "Nighteye and I think it could be something bigger. Someone big in the shadows
making a grab at the light."
"The hit was done by a two man squad, right?" Izuku says.
"Four, actually." Endeavor gestures at the folder Izuku set aside moments earlier. "The two your
friend battled were most likely the leaders. There was one more combat, but they left few
survivors, and only one saw anything more than a hulking mass of a body. The fourth was
responsible for transportation. Some form of short range warp."
"No possibility of long range?"
"The only long range warper in Japan that we know of was caught by you, months ago." Endeavor
rests his hands on his hips, looking over to scan Izuku's face. "Kurogiri is locked away. Any other
person with warping capabilities on par with his is forigen and closely watched. Unless one of
those people has been cloned, then our target can only warp on a small scale."
"There's still so many possibilities. Those four could be the only people responsible. They could be
mercenaries hired by another gang. What you and Nighteye are suggesting just seems far-fetched
to me."
Endeavor's eyes flash for just a moment, contemplative. He looks away. "There's secrets you're not
privy too for a good reason. Nedzu vouches for you adamantly, as did All Might and a few other
trusted individuals. However you are also sixteen with a history of being less than cooperative."
"When have I–?"
"Ignored orders of mental health leave and refused treatment until forcing your way into a mission
you were not cleared for."
Izuku feels his cheeks turn pink. "I guess that's all it takes for me to be flagged, huh?"
"It's more than that. The company you keep doesn't do you any favors."
"What?" Izuku asks, stunned. "I'm your intern. Nedzu and All Might are more or less known to be
my teachers."
"Nedzu is not some trump card you can raise whenever you please." Endeavor jerks his thumb in
the direction of U.A. "The rat is brilliant, both with statistics and in manipulation. He has his own
motives that mostly align with the Hero Commission's. But who do you think gave him that scar?
Do you really think he doesn't want to see them burn?"
Izuku looks away from the man. "What about All Might?" he deflects.
"Rouge," Endeavor grunts. "Amazing at his job, undoubtedly dedicated, and a true hero. He's
idealistic, however, they prefer their workers to be like Hawks and I. All Might often thinks with
his heart and guts. He's too stubborn to make sacrifices. Not to mention his grudges."
Izuku can't find it in himself to argue. Doing so would be hypocritical. "I'll still be working against
whatever it is, won't I?"
"It'd be foolish to not have you doing it. No matter what anyone's thoughts on the matter are, you're
one of society's greatest guardians." Endeavor walks over to the elevator and hits the call button. It
opens immediately. "You'll crack the top ten right when you graduate. I'd be surprised if you didn't
claim one of the top three spots as soon as All Might retires. Anyone can see that you're an asset."
"I'm flattered," Izuku says, joining him in the elevator. "Though the fact that the commission
blatantly wants to control me is off putting."
"Get used to it. That's all they're really good for." Endeavor hits a button and the elevator begins to
descend. "The ones who think they're higher up like to believe that they're responsible for the
foundation of the modern state of Heroics. That they're really making a difference by updating the
rules and regulations, or by organizing agencies. But the people truly in charge know they aren't
anything more than a lackluster shepherd."
"Are you implying that us heroes are sheep?" The elevator stops.
"Most are. Half you underclassmen will be. You'd be hard pressed to find a hero outside the top
fifty who wouldn't follow every word they said."
"But you just told me they are useless shepherds," Izuku says as they step off the elevator.
" They are. The Japanese government and Union of Nations aren't."
They begin to walk out of the agency, attracting a few comments from workers and sidekicks
alike.
"The commission answers to the government and the governments of other nations. They're bait
fish in a lake of guppies." Endeavor fires up, hovering an inch or so above the ground as jets shoot
from hai feet. "There's still plenty of real fish out there. You'd best remember that, and not repeat it
to anyone who might let the truth slip."
Patrol stretches on for eternity. It's not often that Izuku feels exhausted at the end of a shift, but
with a few unfortunately placed villain fights and disasters, he's forced to keep working until the
early morning. He ends up making a bed in the agency's dorms, texting his mom and his friends
before shrugging off his costume and laying in bed without a shower. He drifts off quickly,
listening to the easy click clacking of the AC unit above his head. Slowly, it morphs into something
more. He starts to dream.
Forks and knives clink against plates. Soft, distinctly western music plays in the background as two
people in front of her eat. She watches for a moment, taking in their faces. She takes a bite of food,
quickly washing it down with some water. It all tastes like ash in her mouth, drying her already
cracked tongue and throat as it slips down. She swallows, forcing her impassive mask to stay on.
"Nana, pass me the butter, would you?"
She reaches for the dish, picking it up and handing it over to Sorahiko who takes it and puts a large
knob of butter on his potatoes. Toshinori copies him. She looks back down at her own plate, taking
another bite. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees the two men exchange a look.
"Thank you."
"No problem," she says, the air stinging her lips. She takes another big drink of water, falsely
hoping that it'll cure her when, in all reality, it can't.
"Nana, are you alright?"
She hears Sorahiko kick Toshinori under the table for his lack of subtlety. An amused smile plays
on her lips as she sets her cup down. "I'm alright," she lies between her teeth. Even as the fine hairs
on her arms stand on end, and as a yawning pit opens in her gut, she says, "Just a little out of it from
this past week. You two are much too fast for me now. You gotta take it easy on me."
The two men instantly sour. She shouldn't say anything like that. She hasn't ever thought anything
close to that in the past. But tonight she can't help but feel weak and helpless. There's a pit in her
heart, a yawning gap of anxiety and fear. Of what she doesn't know. At least not consciously. Some
less evolved, more primal part of her knows, though. It senses what's wrong. It can tell what's
going to happen. She can't bring herself to realize.
"We could spar after dinner," Toshinori suggests cautiously. "Ease the nerves a little. I'm still on
edge from finals, and Gran Torino, you could do with some…"
"Some what , boy?" Sorahiko raises his bushy brow. His expression dares Toshinori to finish his
sentence. "I think you could do with some practice. You spent the last two weeks slacking off in
your training."
"To study! " Toshinori cries. "How else was I supposed to pass?"
"Either way, you need to get back into the swing of things. All f—"
"Maybe a movie would be good," She says, a little more forcefully than totally necessary. "I had a
brutal patrol today. I'd like to relax for once. Please," she adds, seeing the cautious looks they give
her.
"Alright."
They finish dinner in silence. She doesn't miss the worried looks they both send her way, no matter
how hard they try to hide. She forces a smile the whole time, of course. She's gotten really good at
that. It's part of her image, really. It started back when her master died, or maybe even before that.
The smile's always been the same, too. Fake and plastic, though she's gotten so good at it that now
it feels real. She even feels like she's fine when it's on. Or she did.
"What do you want?" Sorahiko asks, fiddling with the remote as they all gather around in the living
room.
"Toshi can pick," She says, knowing the younger man will probably go for something loud and
distracting. An action movie, perhaps, or a dub of an American comedy.
"Have you ever seen Forrest Gump?"
The answer is no. She's never even heard of it, but Toshi pulls it up in a flash and gets it going with
the subtitles on. It's not half bad. It's actually pretty good considering how old it is, though she gets
the feeling that there's more to it than what she sees. A cultural divide, probably. Something she'd
ask Toshi about. If there's time.
After the first act it started to get sad. She watches with a blank face, eyes flipping between the
actors and the subs. It's nothing she hasn't seen in movies before, or even dealt with first hand. But
something about it still gets to her. She hates it. Hates it enough to hide her feelings perfectly, but
not enough to ignore them.
There's something wrong with her, she realizes, though not for the first time. And as the credits
start to roll, she begins to accept the truth.
"How about a game of Rummy?" Sorahiko suggests.
"Not tonight," She declines. "I'm… I'm gonna go to bed. See you in the morning."
She feels a chill as she walks down the hall to her room. Hair stands on end and her skin breaks out
with goosebumps. Her senses sharpen just a little, her mind trying to keep track of it all.
Three kilometers to the West.

A whisper in the back of her mind. Her hands, once reaching to remove her costume, stop. She
turns in the direction of the danger. Mouth dry, she swallows. She can feel him. Fell his hate, his
intent, and his strength. The whisper repeats itself, though the distance shortens each time. Finally,
when the count reaches under two hundred meters, it confirms her thoughts.
Victory is impossible.
Despair descends. She feels the soul crushing lack of hope. Yet all at once it's gone. A hand or six
is placed on her shoulder. From the kitchen, she faintly hears the noise of Toshinori clumsily
knocking his head on the overhead light followed by Sorahiko laughing. She closes her eyes and
smiles.
"Giving up won't do anyone any good."
She climbs out of the window, feeling the cool night air against her skin. Her cape flutters as she
takes flight, the cloth acting like a beacon in the dark for her hunter. The area around the house is
mostly empty. There's only a few houses in what was once farmland. She prefers it that way;
there's not many people around to get hurt. Evacuation will be swift, too, with Toshinori and
Sorahiko there to help.
Behind left.
Something wizzes by her head as she serves to the side, flipping around to look in the direction the
attack came from. "You're faster than I thought you'd be," a voice says. It feels omnipresent, as
though whoever speaks is everywhere at once. "It's hardly going to change anything. Though
perhaps killing you will be a challenge now."
She dodges another projectile, this time noticing that it's a chunk of rock and metal. She climbs a
little higher to make herself a smaller target, but then she feels the air pressure increase, the change
nearly popping her ears. "You can die now."
The explosion is like nothing she's ever felt before. The force, the light, the heat, the volume,
everything rips through the night sky, devastating everything it touches. She takes the brunt of the
hit, feeling it burn her skin. Something cracks inside of her. But she keeps moving, ignoring the
pain in her abdomen and her shortening breath. She gets away, letting the voice guide her around.
Straight blow.
She dives down. Sloppily, she charges up her most powerful attack and lets it rip. There's a sonic
boom and a rush of air. A cry of shock and anger makes her smile in satisfaction. "How are you
still alive!?"
Her vision clears. She sees something charging at her through the air and barrel rolls out of the
way. She reaches out a hand, catching just the barest but of cloth with the tips of her fingers. She
pulls. It does nothing but rip the leg off of All for One's pants. Then pain cuts into her back.
It feels as though she's being eaten alive from the inside out, with gnawing, burning agony creeping
its way under her skin. She cries out, but forces herself to shut up. All for One laughs. She takes a
deep breath and shuts away the pain. Then she takes off in the direction of the laughter, moving so
fast she can hardly coordinate herself. She ends up tackling All for One mid air, wrapping her arms
around his midsection in an attempt to crush his ribcage.
It feels as though she's tried to hug a brick house. She feels him grab on to her cape, but she spins in
the air and hurls him to the ground before he can hurt her again. She dives down after him
immediately, dropping her heel on top of his head. He brushes it aside like it's nothing and slaps a
hand against her cheek. The force is enough to rattle her bones. He flies, landing and burrowing
into the dirt as her vision swims.
"All done?"
The tang of blood hits her tongue. She collects it in a wad of her own saliva, swirling it in her
mouth before spitting it onto the torn up ground. She watches as All for One descends, the man
walking on air like an angel falling into hell. "The tank's not even half empty."
They meet in the middle again. Her all fists and feet and him a cacophony of ranged attacks. He's
keeping her at bay, she realizes. He doesn't want to get into a hand to hand scuffle, knowing it's
where she excels. But as she grabs on to a coil of steel coming from his fingertips, she forces him to
do just that. Her fists hits his jaw. He tries to retaliate, igniting into a foul mix of fire and lighting,
but she grapples.
The pain is the worst she'll ever feel. Every inch of her body begins to break down. But she holds
on, forcing him into a choke hold with all of her might, squeezing his ribs with her heels and
crushing his windpipe with the crook of her elbow.
By any stretch of the imagination, she's not winning. The sheer ferocity and viciousness that All for
One fights back with is enough to end all of her hopes. Yet she holds on, going so far as to dig her
nails into his flesh and bite one of his ears clean off. Anything to make him hurt, make him bleed,
put a dent into the monstrous amount of work needed to bring him down for good. She hears his
anger in the form of a sky shattering roar as one of his ribs finally cracks. Another explosion goes
off, bigger than the first by an immeasurable amount. She feels her arms pop out of their sockets
from the blast, a loss of response from her limbs the only thing to get her to let go at last.
"Stand up."
She hardly knew she was down, but something visceral forced her to stand. There's iron in her legs
now. Fire in her stomach, too. She pops one arm after the other back into place, rolling her
shoulders and taking deep, even breaths. She dodges another attack from All for One, moving
before she can even think.
The world burns purple as they begin to play a game of cat and mouse. Though they're both
hunters; the two of them know this can only end in one way, the only question is how soon and
how lopsided. But she holds on, pitching and rolling around blasts of fire and lighting, trying to get
in close again, though hurricane force winds blow her back. Gradually, a lull in the fight forms.
They end up back where they started, among the ruins of her home. All for One studies her, that
cocky, uneven smirk plastered on his face. He's hurt, but not tired. Not like she is, where the
exhaustion is felt from her feet to the roots of her hair.
"Master!"
The voice in her head goes off like an alarm. She punches the air, stirring up wind to blow into All
for One's face. Toshinori is spared from the hit as he rushes for her, screaming her name. Sorahiko,
the source of her joy, tackles the younger man and forces him away.
She turns her head, just a little. Blood matted hair swirls in the wind, and she pushes away a streak
of red from her eyes as she smiles. She looks him in the eyes, feeling her heart break at the sight of
those tear-wet things. She smiles, though. Wide and so bright it hurts. He's in his costume now.
Good. It's how she ought to remember him in her final moments.
"I'll see you again," she promises, pointing at him as he's carried away. "Someday, we'll be back
together. Until then, do your best, Toshinori."
"Charming, truly that hit home." All for One draws himself up, pillars of green sprouting from the
ground as the earth shakes. Lighting splits the sky, black and red against the purple fire and gray
smoke. The smell of corpses hits her nose, so strong she can taste it. His teeth flash white above it
all, perfectly straight even though he's been inhaling smoke for minutes on end.
"But it's a pity. I'll have to kill him next time."
She hacks, coughing hard enough to spit out blood. "You think it'll be that easy? I'm still standing.
I'm strong enough to hold you off and give you a good beating before you kill me. One for All
grows rapidly. Just think of how strong he'll be when he's fully grown."
"Well," All for One says, a chuckle edging its way into his voice, "I suppose I ought to kill you
quickly and then gut your successor before he can even have time to mourn you."
Seven cracks her neck and rises into the air. "Do your worst."
Chapter End Notes
I kind of feel bad for the length of this one but it was really so this is what I put out. Oh
well. USj is next chapter. Should be interesting. See you in the next one. Cheers!
Discord:
Bait and Switch
Chapter Notes
He wakes, cold but sweaty. The coveres have been tossed to the floor, allowing the air to chill his
skin and give him goosebumps. There's an ache at the base of his skull, right where his spine meets
his hairline. It throbs, painfully hot. He pries his eyes open only to be greeted with darkness.
Somehow, he rolls over. The small clock on his nightstand tells him it's four in the morning.
With a deep breath, he slips off the mattress and stands on the floor, bare feet shaking with a stiff,
groggy sort of fatigue that makes his eyelids droop. He holds on to the bedpost for support,
gripping it tight. It snaps between his fingers. The wood breaks into a million little pieces, though
none of them dig into his palm. It wakes him up, just a little. He bends down to pick them up, but a
sharp pain explodes in his head. He falls to his knees.
Wake up… wake up!
But he is awake. He can breathe, he can think, he can move. He can feel the real world around him,
and he watches as the clock changes to show one past four. But something doesn't fit.
"I…" He stops. His voice doesn't sound right. It doesn't fit him. He looks down at his body. He
can't see a thing by the light of the clock, but the crackle of green lighting helps him along.
It's hard to know what to think. He watches carefully as the muscles of his chest and abdomen
contort as he moves, the sensation not quite alien, but not quite familiar. It's a body he knows, but
it's not his. It belongs to someone else. And as the lightning illuminates the small charm necklace
hung from his neck, he knows who.
"Nine." His heart palpitations and his head throbs once more. Fingers clench around the charm, the
edges digging into his palm. He shouldn't be like this, he shouldn't be the one driving. And yet the
more he tries to lapse back into the waves of Nine's mind, the more the sting of the charm made by
his user's love reminds him. Everything is real. He's the one puppeteering the body, playing real
life with the thin strings. It makes him want to vomit.
With a calm sort of desperation, he forces his body to relax. Delving deep into his consciousness,
he searches. The Others are awake, watching him. Some prod, trying to coax him out of the body.
It's pointless. All they can do is give him headaches and waste their energy on cryptic and
unhelpful whispers. He has to be the one to make the switch. Or so he thinks.
The necklace slips off his neck. He holds it out as an offering, feeling the cord in his palms. In the
depths of One for All he finds Nine. Gently, he pokes him. Nothing happens. He pokes Nine again,
harder this time. Still nothing. He continues for what feels like eons, trying to wake the true owner
of the body. But Nine is deep in his sleep, an immovable boulder hunkered down in the storm. He
tries everything he can think of, and the only progress to show for it is a slit blip in Nine's rest. The
equivalent of twitching a leg while one sleeps.
He stands and sits back down on the bed. He slips the necklace back on, feeling guilty for doing so.
Then he reaches for the hero costume hanging from the bunk above his, which somehow still
stands even though it's down one post. He begins to slip the costume on before he pauses. His nose
curls in disgust at the smell. He soon realizes he's much the same. He should technically try to get
help as soon as possible, but then again he doesn't think Nine would like waking in a dirty body…
He showers in the room's bathroom and changes into fatigues the agency provided in the dresser at
the foot of the bed. By the time he does, it's four thirty. He grabs the phone on the nightstand and
turns it on, hopeing for a quick way out in the form of a phone call. There's two percent left. Nine
forgot to plug it in.
It should be enough, he figures, unlocking it and hitting the icon for his list of contacts. The names
are numerous, though the important ones are bookmarked. His hand hovers over Eight's contact but
he decides against it. The man needs his rest. He might not have any hero world to do in the next
few weeks, but the weeks leading up to the end of his recovery period are crucial. He hits the
button for someone else instead. Someone more familiar to him than Nine's mother or principal.
"Kid, you better have a damn good reason for waking me up at this hour. Actually, it don't make a
difference, I'm walking ya no matter—"
"Sorahiko," he says, his voice Nine's but the tone unmistakably different. "I am going to explain
this as quickly as I can. I am not the Ninth. I… I'm a vestige of some kind. I knew you when Seven
was my host and when you taught Eight. I need your help to figure out how to put Nine back where
he should belong."
"... Call up Nedzu. And Recovery Girl. Toshi—"
"Needs to rest. He—this phone is about to die—you'll have to call them yourself. Don't involve
Eight until the morning. It's for the best. I can take care of Nine in the short term."
"Fine. Get to the gates of UA as soon as possible. We'll all be there. Do not be seen by anyone. I
don't need more of a mess on my hands."
"I understand. Thank you."
He quickly hangs up and gathers Nine's things. There's not much, just his wallet and phone plus his
costume that clings to the smell of sweat and grime. He's out the door of the agency soon enough.
None of the heroes or secretaries bother him, with most offering nods as he casually steps out onto
the street.
It's still dark. He remembers getting to bed in the early hours of the morning, and now it's pushing
seven. He couldn't have gotten much sleep. The more he thinks about it, the heavier his feet feel.
But the exasution is only mental. He can feel weight behind his eyes, and he's certain that if he
wanted to he could sleep again. His muscles, however, are fresh. There's no stiffness in his joints,
or soreness in his muscles. It's as though he has an off day rather than an exhausting patrol.
He decides to save those thoughts for later. Nine can figure it out along with his allies. He steps
into an alley a few meters away from Endeavor's building and quickly checks for cameras. There
aren't any, so he finds himself in the air, welcoming the cold wind as it wakes him.
U.A appears on the horizon in a matter of minutes. No one stops or even sees him as he lands
inside the walls and begins to casually stroll through the streets. It's too early for students, he
supposes as he heads for Nedzu's office. Or maybe it's a weekend. He finds it hard to tell—Nine's
phone didn't give him the day of the week and time hasn't been a factor to him on this scale in
decades.
"Midoriya."
He stops. It feels wrong responding to that name. Like he's just broken a promise or lied to
someone he loves; the very action forms a pit in his stomach.
"Midoriya," they say again, and he has to turn. Nedzu greets him, looking a little more aloof than
normal. His typical mug of tea is absent, replaced with a half spent cigarette. The sight is so odd
that he doesn't respond in a normal manner.
"Rats can smoke?"
It seems to trigger something in the principal's brain, making Nedzu's eyes sparkle just a little. "I
have lungs and opposable thumbs, don't I? Of course I can smoke." He takes a puff as though to
demonstrate and twirls his cane around. "Torino called me just a few minutes ago, he said you'd be
down but that you wouldn't be you. Care to explain?"
He blinks. "I'm not Nine." Nedzu's scar twitches.
"I'd rather we discuss something involving that business away from prying ears," the principal
says. "Follow me. Torino and Chiyo will join us. Yagi, as you requested, will be informed when he
wakes."
"Thank you."
"I ought to be thanking you, considering what's to come."
"Pardon?"
"A discussion for later," Nedzu says, turning on his heels and starting for his office. "Hurry, I'd
rather get everything on the table before class starts. What with the field trip and all."
"I… oh. It's today."
"Indeed."
He walks as swiftly as he can. Nedzu puts out his cigarette and begins to crawl on all fours,
chittering about a syllabus and loose lips. The last thing He wants to do is to unpack that—not
when he's not Nine. Nine should be the one to take his charges on an outing. Not whatever he
happens to be.
"You may speak freely now," Nedzu says as they enter the elevator to his office. "Though I will
remind you that you'll have to explain everything to Chiyo and Torino as well."
"Nine had a dream again. When he… when I woke up, I wasn't him. I'm… I'm something different.
Not a past holder even though I have their memories."
"I see. Can you communicate with Midoriya?"
"No," he says as the elevator stops. Nedzu hurries out, and he's hot on the principal's heels. "Nine's
dormant."
"Dormant," a gruff voice cuts through the air of Nedzu's office. An old man and an old woman sit
side by side in office chairs, backs facing Nedzu's desk. "Dormant as in what?"
He looks at the man he recognizes as Sorahiko. "He's sleeping. It's like he hasn't woken up yet,
only instead of laying there dreaming I'm here instead."
"Sit," the woman orders. And while he's not as familiar with her as he is with Sorahiko, he knows
well enough to listen to Chiyo. He sits. "What's your name?"
"... Don't have one."

"Very well. What's the earliest thing you can remember?"
"Today, or…"
"I think before today would be more beneficial," Nedzu chimes in. "You're not someone new, are
you?"
"No. I've been around for…" He scrunches his brow in concentration. "At least since Five. But
never like this for this long."
"This has happened before?" Sorahiko asks.
"Yes. Briefly. I woke up in his body. I was confused," he recalls, "it took me a moment to get my
bearings. But then I figured it out. I think Nine was more awake then. It was so easy to trade back.
All I had to do was put on the necklace and we were back to normal."
"Necklace?" Nedzu inquires.
"How many hours of sleep did you get?" Chiyo butts in. "This time as well as the previous
instance."
"Last time I think it was something around six. Today it couldn't have been more than four."
"It's possible that Midoriya is simply tired," Nedzu suggests. "He's probably been working himself
to the bone again, and this is a way for his body to force some rest on him. Has he stirred at all?
You're have tried to wake him, right?"
"Yes, I have. And he hasn't. I do feel tired," he adds. "Not fatigued physically, just due for a mental
break."
"It wouldn't surprise me if the boy is the same," Sorahiko grunts. "What's the best course of
action?"
"To wait," Chiyo says. "At least for a few hours—enough for Midoriya to get a full sleep cycle in.
If he doesn't wake naturally or respond to stimulus then we can try something more drastic."
"Unfortunately, we're tight on time." Nedzu lights another cigarette. "The first years are heading
out to the USJ in three hours. And while I'd like to give him time, we can't. He needs to be himself
for the trip."
"Why?" Sorahiko asks. "We could just stuff him in a costume and have him pretend to be
Midoriya. It would raise some heads but nothing major."
Nedzu closes his eyes. "In four hours, well into the tour of the Unforeseen Situations Joint, the
first years will be attacked and either ransomed off or killed."
The office goes silent.
"How…"
"I've received a tip." Nedzu turns in his chair to look out the window behind his desk. "It's not
some foolish child playing around, either. This informant has been in my sphere of influence for
over a decade. Midoriya needs to be there as himself, unless our new friend can fight on the same
level as him while teaming up with our staff here."
"I can't."
"And that's fine. For now. We just need Midoriya to wake and everything else will be fine."
"Surely you can fight," Sorahiko objects. "He—what's your name?"
"... Zero."
"Zero has been in the minds of some of the finest warriors ever." The old man sizes Zero up. "He
ought to be fine."
"It's not whether or not I'm strong enough to do it," Zero argues. "I could probably level that whole
facility without half trying. But I don't know how to work in a group very well. And I don't trust
myself not to hurt any bystanders. Nine handles all the fine things when it comes to fighting."
"Exactly my point," Nedzu agrees. "We need to get Midoriya back and briefed as soon as possible.
You said a necklace helped last time?"
"This one, from Nejire," Zero says, pulling it out from his collar. "I thought of it as his anchor
point. I think it helped him settle into his body again. However, he was already awake."
"That's his girlfriend," Sorahiko says. "Someone he cares deeply for, and who cares deeply for
him."
"She's not someone any of the past users had any connection to, either," Nedzu adds. "She's not
like you, who knew Shimura and still communicates with Yagi. I doubt anything you'd do would
provide the right result."
"So we need to wake the kid up and anchor him with something that's unique," Sorahiko suggests.
"The simplest solution would be to grab the girl," Chiyo says.
"We'd still have got actually shake him out of his sleep," Zero interjects. "Nejire or Mirio or
Tamaki or his mother could probably anchor him, but I have no idea how to get him ready in the
first place."
They sit and ponder for a moment. Eventually, Nedzu comes up with an idea. "The first year
students. They're in danger. None of the past users have a connection to them like Midoriya does."
"Eight—"
"Isn't as close to them as Midoriya," Nedzu interrupts. "He's their inspiration, and he clearly sees
them as something more than normal underclassmen. Let him know that his charges are in danger,
and then we'll get someone to act as the anchor."
"Alright." There's not really anything to do other than agree. He closes his eyes and reaches into
himself. Nine is sleeping just a little lighter, stirring every so slightly when Zero touches him. He
gives him a slight shake, just to make sure. Nine continues to rest. Carefully, Zero reaches out with
his thoughts, making contact with Nine's consciousness.
"They're in danger. All of them. You need to get up to protect them. They could be hurt without
you."
There's not a response, at least not instantly. It takes a full minute. Then something tickles the base
of his skull. Who?
"The first years. Your friends and students, not to mention the whole of UA. For their sake, wake."
There's a great pause. The waves freeze, the wind stills, and the great cog in the earth ceases to
spin. The whole ocean of One for All holds in anticipation of one mind. But Nine doesn't take long
to choose. A hand reaches out, and he takes it. There's a massive tug, and soon Izuku takes the lead.
The change is a jarring slap to the face, like cold water after an eon of deep slumber. It's hard to tell
who is who or what is what. For a moment, he forgets to breathe. The world is off center, fuzzy,
like his eyes have been clouded over by fog. Something touches his arm.
"Midoriya. Midoriya, are you there?"
Izuku's mind sharpens. There's a huge twist in his perspective, and everything aligns just right. "...
Yeah. I'm here."
"Good." Recovery Girl backs away, looking over her shoulder at Nedzu. The principal takes a puff
from his cigarette.
"Do you need to be re-briefed?"
He thinks for a moment. The facts are slow to come back, but Izuku's certain they're all there. "No.
I think I'm good. An attack at the USJ, right? I'm going for extra protection."
"Indeed. I'll have extra hands waiting for when it happens." Nedzu looks out the window in the
direction of the USJ facility. "Every teacher here is on high alert, and we have a rather… special
guest waiting for you to sound the alarm."
"I thought All Might was a last resort?"
Nedzu chuckles. "No, not All Might. Think a little lower on the charts, and he's still a UA
graduate."
"Oh," Izuku says. " Oh. Are we certain he shouldn't be going with them instead of me? I'd trust his
judgement much more."
"You're the expected variable," Nedzu says. "There's no logical reason why our enemies shouldn't
have accounted for you already. Our friend is the cavalry, along with the entire staff and third year
heroics class, whom he is lecturing today."
Izuku shakes his head. "That's a lot of firepower. I'd call it overkill, but…"
"All for One's creatures cannot be taken lightly," Nedzu finishes. "You know firsthand what
they're like. It's best if you begin preparing right now. Pack for a full combat tour. And be ready to
bring down more of what you and Endeavor took care of that day."
"I'd need to withstand multiple full power strikes to do that," Izuku says, standing. "That's not
possible for right now."
"Very well. I'll speak to Power Loader about that—One for All's full might cannot be locked away
for much longer." Nedzu hits a button on his desk, causing the doors to his office to open. "Not
when All for One hides his true power in the shadows of his empire."
Izuku looks back as he leaves the office, pausing despite himself. He makes eye contact with each
of the adults in turn. They're all so old, he realizes. Tired, burnt out from fighting and helping
others since they were his ages. Even Nedzu, who can't be more than thirty, seems utterly geriatric
just from his eyes and posture.
"I understand, sir. I'll make sure the students are safe, and that All for One won't achieve victory
today."
Gran Torino nods. "Then godspeed, boy. And give 'em hell."
[x]
"Ladies and gentlemen of the board, it would be my greatest pleasure to introduce to you our
company's latest and greatest product."
"The Boogeyman says we're a go for ten-oh-six, but from what I'm seeing everything is in position
right now. I say we go."
"After last quarter's stagnation in growth, our engineers spent many sleepless nights dreaming up
the next greatest thing in support gear technology, something that will shatter our sales records and
dominate a whole new market for decades to come. And I wholeheartedly believe that they've
found just that."
"Not if you don't want to get your guts ripped out and turned to ash. We go early, and the whole
operation blows. Just make sure the entryway stays clear, then we'll continue as normal. Golden
opportunity or not, we stuck to our schedule."
"May I introduce to you, my dear friends, Detnerat's very own Body Armour!"
"I have my eyes on the head engineer right now. I can give you a rundown of the hairs dangling
from his nose, but he hasn't taken a bathroom break all morning, and I think he's about to crack.
I'm telling you, now's the time."
"See, the market is already saturated with products made for heroes. Thousands of our vision
enhancing goggles fly off the shelves every day, and we're not even considered a top player in that
market. However, who's selling to the police? To the hero schools? Ladies and gentlemen, has
Deterat or any of its competitors sold a single product to the militaries of the world?"
"We have two minutes. We wait, or this whole thing goes down the drain. If you fuck it all up right
now I'll rat you out to Shigaraki myself. And you know what he'll do with a sorry idiot like you."
"No! We haven't! Think of the billions that lie in wait for us if we invest in a whole new industry.
The militaries of the world make their own weapons, yes, but can they produce what we do here, in
this very factory?"
"Fine. But if I miss the target because of your foolish decision, I'll kill you myself."
"They planes and guns and bombs and tanks. But what do they have that's good against Quirks?
Nothing! No mass produced, easy to use and familiar hard counters to emitters, particularly
enhanced emitters."
"Less than a minute."
"I see the looks on your faces. Quirk use by soldiers against soldiers is a war crime! Funny, isn't it?
How using them on civilians is just fine, but a man in uniform ready to die for his country?
Preposterous! But that will hardly hold up…"
"He's getting up from his seat. We need to move now!"
"No one in a life or death scenario will refrain from using their Quirk if it means living. Any armed
conflict will quickly turn to a battle of Quirks. However, not all men are created equal."
"Wait. Steady. Hold, hold… now!"
"After all, those without godlike abilities need to play on the same field. So we give them a little
boost. "
And then, as two sets of bright red feathers spin into a furious storm miles apart, the boardrooms of
Detnerat's largest factory and testing facility go up in flames. Far from it all, perched atop a stone
dragon on the edge of a skyscraper, Hawks speaks into his comm, utterly monotone.
"I'm securing the VIPs. It should take a moment for news to reach our heavy hitters, but they'll get
here. If it's actually who you think is behind this, it'll turn into a bloodbath real quick."
"I don't need your option. Do your job and ensure that any Intel you gather makes it back intact. No
mistakes."
The comm flies off his collar, flicked away by an uncaring finger. "Yes, ma'am."
Shigaraki. The name is vaguely familiar; definitely not from a case he worked on. It probably
means something. Then again, it could just be a codename. Either way, there's no harm in keeping
it to himself. His own little spying sessions are for the benefit of no one other than number three, at
least until he's a little more free.
[x]
"Hey, listen up. I'm only going over this once."
It's impressive how easily the students quiet themselves now. Then Izuku remembers the early few
weeks of his own first year, and how much Aizawa came off as intimidating. Now, though, Izuku
really only sees the exasperation in him. The high expectations and obvious threats are still there,
but the man just wants to rest. Or he would, if he didn't have his goggles already up.
"You will walk through the USJ. You will listen to Thirteen, Midoriya, and myself. What we say
goes. It's a very useful and interesting facility, but I will not tolerate any amount of cooking around.
You're here to learn. Act like it."
The man played it off as having a severe case of dry eye. Izuku was there when he claimed to have
spent too much time using his Quirk on rowdy students. It was an easily bought lie, but Izuku
knows the truth. He feels his teacher looking at him, and from across the crowd of kids, Izuku nods
back. Eraserhead grips his capture weapon, using it as a way to rest his arms. A hair tie on his left
wrist appears as his sleeve rolls down.
"Am I understood?"
"Yessir!"
Aizawa grunts and starts to tie his hair back as the doors to the USJ open. Izuku finds himself
holding his breath, even though he knows that any attack right at the gate would only allow them to
get away much easier. Still, his fingers dig into his palms, his nails only prevented from cutting his
hand by his gloves. He fires up Danger Sense as much as he can stand. He doesn't feel a thing.
"Um. Deku?"
Izuku looks down and into the eyes of one of the students. Uraraka awkwardly blinks, shifting a
foot back as she casts a glance over her shoulder. "We're moving and you're just standing there."
"Ah." Izuku steps forward, quickly catching up to the student body along with her. It's a little
difficult to focus, he finds. Not enough to completely hinder him, but enough to be a nuisance. But
his body feels completely fine.
"Just thinking?"
"Yeah. Mostly about my first year."
Uraraka nods, her hands moving down to touch her thighs in search of pockets but finding none.
"Does it get lonely?"
"Not really." Izuku pushes his thumbs through his belt loops. "It did get a little bit lonely at the
start, but it's not that way anymore. I've got a whole family now."
"That's good to hear."
"Having trouble making friends?"
"No. It's just sort of early, you know? I don't know everyone yet and it feels like we'll be strangers
for a while."
Izuku smiles a little. "That I understand. But it's like you said, it's still a little early. You'll all get
there—part of the reason we're making all of you work out is to build bonds. Anyways, I'm gonna
hang in the back and make sure no one tries anything funny. You should probably go listen to
Thirteen. They know their stuff."
Uraraka nods and hurries to the front. They walk to the edge of the steps leading down into the
central courtyard and stop. Thirteen gives their usual speech. Most take it pretty well, though a few
clearly aren't eager for rescue work. Izuku would normally try to get them to see the value in it, but
on a day like this he can hardly spare the time.
"Midoriya, what's your capture to rescue ratio?"
"Uh…" Izuku trails off, trying to juggle a few to many thoughts at once. "It actually might be
pretty even. I've made a lot of saves, but where I'm at right now I'm seen as a combat specialist so I
get thrown at a ton of villains. When I first started, though, it was definitely around ten saves for
every capture. There's just more endangered civilians than villains, you know?"
"There you have it! Even those on Midoriya's level are still needed to save very frequently. It's not
as flashy, but…"
He tunes Thirteen out in favor of studying the immediate vicinity. Nothing's amiss. It almost makes
it worse, in his opinion. He'd rather there be some kind of sign for him to look into. But there isn't
one. Whoever's supposed to bust in is good at hiding, or is an idiot for only using the front door to
rush them from the outside in.
A few minutes pass. They work their way through the landslide zone and the downpour zone,
intending to head for the fire zone to dry off. However, Thirteen has everyone pause for a bit on
hypothermia and how to properly treat it. Izuku and Aizawa take the time to exchange glances
across the group, just to see if the other has anything on his radar. Neither does. With tired eyes,
Aizawa reaches for his pocket and checks his phone. His brow shoots up.
"Has anyone received any notification on their phone since we walked in?"
Everyone pauses, confused. Mumbling breaks out.
"This is serious," Izuku says, pushing through to join Aizawa. "I take it you have no signal?"
"Yes. And here of all places." Aizawa shows Izuku his screen, who takes his own phone out to
compare. No bars. No wifi. No internet at all.
"Excuse me?" Yaoyorozu raises her hand. "Isn't this a giant dome? Shouldn't signal loss be
expected?"
"Normally, yes," Thirteen says. "But I designed this place for ease of teaching and communication.
We have large groups here that coordinate by text all the time. And I frequently check the internet
for stats and other information that needs to be known quickly and accurately."
"You should all have internet," Aizawa finishes. "Someone try to phone a friend and another send a
text."
More than one try each, and every single attempt fails. Izuku gazes up at the domed ceiling,
gradually putting together the pieces. "So we're jammed. But it hasn't been noticed, otherwise our
backup would be here already."
"I can't even use my radio!" Kaminari calls. Izuku looks over at him to see his hands frantically
fiddling with the dial. "What's going on?"
"Definitely a jamming system of some kind, but there also has to be something to make it seem like
we're able to communicate back."
"That's a two component outcome," Aizawa says. "One to transmit, one to jam. It could be done by
one person, but everything is out. No radio, no internet, nothing. One Quirk doing that isn't
realistically feasible. It has to be two."
"That's if it is a Quirk," Izuku counters. "It would be much easier and simpler to just use a device of
some kind."
"This place is so big, however," Thirteen counters. "To jam the whole complex would require
multiple machines or extensive sabotage."
"A Quirk to jam and a machine or maybe a computer virus to transmit an all clear signal," Izuku
decides. "It seems like the most simple solution. One person could always be there to guard the
transmitter while using their Quirk to block out communications. The only question is why haven't
they made their move yet."
"They might want us in a different a—"
"Excuse us!" Iida's hand shoots into the air and begins to furiously wave back and forth as he
shouts. "What is going on? Are we in danger?"
"Yes," Izuku says, quickly holding up a hand to silence them, though it's far too late. None of them
try to run, but all the talking and screaming is impossible to cut through.
"Get out of the building and phone Nedzu," Aizawa shouts in his ear. "Tell him to get the backup
here and then get right back to cover us."
Izuku looks up at the ceiling and then around the perimeter. There's still not an ounce of danger to
detect. "Alright."
Even as he distances himself from the group, there's still no danger. Not even as he flies right out
the front doors and stops on the steps, creating the best time for an attack. Nothing happens. Izuku
pulls out his phone and nearly drops it at the flurry of notifications. One glaring line sticks out from
them all. Fifty missed calls from Endeavor.
Instantly Izuku hits the call button. He lets it ring on speaker as he maneuvers through his text
messages to send one to Nedzu. Right after he hits send, the phone picks up.
"Kid! Thank god you picked up!"
"Hawks?" Izuku doesn't bother to hide his surprise. "Wh—"
"Long story, no time. I—shit, hold on!" A great deal of whooshing comes over the line, as though
Hawks is flying or fighting. "Ok, TL;DR is that a factory in Tokyo got blown to hell and now it's a
warzone. Get yourself and anyone else you can snag over here as quickly as possible."
"But there's a chance UA—"
"Think about it kid. Who's the top dog in Japan right now?"
"Endeavor."
Hawks scoffs. "No. He's probably the most skilled, but you're the hardest hitter. And considering
what we're dealing with right now, we need you. They know that. They also knew you'd guard UA
as your priority. That tip's a distraction, kid."
Izuku looks back to the gates of the USJ. "I'll be over as soon as I can. I'll bring Jeanist and a few
others. I won't keep you waiting."
"You better not. The big man is a little distracted at the moment; I don't think he can hold out for
long without you. Get here and bail him out so we can all go home alive!"
Hawks hangs up before he can respond. Izuku dashes back into the USJ, gives Aizawa and
Thirteen the simplest explanation he can, and then heads right for the hero classrooms at UA. He
finds them empty, but quickly tracks his queries down to the main briefing room. He almost
knocks the door off its hinges as he enters.
"Best Jeanist—"
"Tokyo, I know." The hero strikes a pose in front of a group of students, though they are nearly
heroes. "We were coming to collect you and to leave some of them behind to secure the younger
ones. I take it you caught on to something?"
"There's something funny with the signals going to and from the USJ. I can't explain now, but the
teachers and some students need to stay to investigate. The rest of us need to get to the factory
now!"
"I understand. Take us."
Izuku inhales deeply and looks around the room. He makes eye contact with Tamaki, Mirio, Nejire,
and a host of other third years who he knows are more than worth their metal. "I'd say hold on
right, but I'll be the one making sure you don't fly away."
"It's going to be a bumpy ride, isn't it?" Tamaki groans. Mirio and Nejire share a chuckle.
"Yeah, definitely."
"There is no time," Jeanist butts in. "Deku, to Deterat. Now."
By the time the man blinks, they're all in the air, cocooned in Blackwhip. The wind bites into his
skin. He feels the sound barrier break. In the blink of an eye, he arrives at the Detnerat Support
Items Plant, and drops a load of heroes into the rubble and flames. Hundreds of kilometers away,
All for One smiles as he stares at his monitor, a clueless little girl in his lap, nursing an apple.
Chapter End Notes
Still alive. Been a while, huh? I'm still working on this, even if I've been going though
a few issues in my personal life. I'm writting more now, though. To be honest I got
about half of this down in two days, which is good for me at this point. But I think it
can be better. Again, I just had some personal things to get through. And then when
they were delt with I got sick pretty badly. I'm better now.
Next one I'm really excited for. It's got a part I've been itching to write for a while and
I feel confident in my ability to pull it off which is always nice. Anyways, see you in
the next one. Cheers.
Discord:
That Which Conquers
Chapter Notes
It takes a split second to pinpoint Endeavor. Even among the fire and fighting, he's the brightest
body in sight. The man burns, a miniature supernova against the pure blue of the atmosphere,
firing on all cylinders as he fights off three or four opponents at once. Izuku forces himself to take
a moment to assess. He rakes his eyes over the whole of the industrial complex, memorizing the
position of strongpoints and what appear to be more powerful fighters. Then and only then does
Izuku allow himself to throw in with Endeavor.
"Heads!" Izuku screams, rocketing at full speed as he pulls one of the villains off of the older hero.
Endeavor swears, blowing the other three—Izuku had to have missed one—off with a charged blast
of fire. Izuku shields himself with the body infront of him, feeling the force but deflecting the heat.
Then he chucks the villain at the ground as hard as he can.
"Cincinnati Smash!"
The winds stir, funneling into a small cyclone around him as the body rockets towards the ground.
The crack of an object breaking the sound barrier is the only precursor to the earth splitting impact
of the villain. On the ground, people scurry away from where he threw the villain, which was well
within the space controlled by hostile forces. Izuku lets his lightning flare. The smell of ozone and
the taste of copper dominate his senses as he rips the villains off of Endeavor.
"I made it."
He's not sure how it's supposed to sound. Words, forced from his lips in the heat of battle, are lost
to the wind. Yet even being so small in volume to the worzone below and above, they carry
weight. Izuku sees it in the eyes of his enemies. The way they widen, pupils dilating and muscles
tensing. He can feel their surprise and shift from confident to a little more wary.
Blackwhip springs forth, binding them in its iron clutches as Izuku roundhouse kicks one of them
in the face. It's a test hit. There's no amount of force that would be lethal to a human being behind
it, not like he tried with the pull. That move was hasty. Something he could have thought a little
more on, even if Endeavor was prepared to melt their skin off with a concentrated blast of fire.
"Don't pull your punches!" Endeavor orders as Izuku throws the villains back, still keeping them
secure in his bindings. "They've already taken multiple of my special moves."
Izuku doesn't look back at him. He dashes forward instead, kneeing one across the face at sixty
percent while he punches the other two. They collapse in his strands. "What are we looking at?
Hawks wasn't too detailed."
"It's a surprise attack. We don't know the motive or who's responsible." More is left unsaid. Izuku
decides to leave it for later.
"Got it. Where am I needed?"
"Wherever the fighting is the most difficult for our side." Endeavor flares his flames. "I'll be doing
the same. We cannot afford to give anything less than our all."
Izuku feels something open in his chest. It's not glee or pride; those are far too selfish and
corruptible to fit. But it's a warm feeling nonetheless. Like he's reached out and touched just the
barest bit of the sun, feeling the warm might of it through his skin.
"Understood."
He takes off after that. Before anyone can even react, his storm of lighting and tentacles descends
on a rather brutal section of the fighting. Fire and lava rage as the earth itself seems to boil.
Buildings are swallowed by miniature tsunamis of boiling rock as screams of pain and anger cut
through the sound of devastation. Izuku takes a deep breath.
"Incoming!"
Izuku nearly triggers an earthquake. Or at least, that's what his allies and enemies alike seem to
think as he drives his shoulder into the rough, uneven ground. Carving a trench twenty meters
wide, he cuts the flow of the lava in its tracks. It begins to spill into the deep trench. Izuku claws
himself out before he can burn, shaking off the dirt as electricity burs off his skin. He looks to his
left and right, feeling out the two groups, forcing villains and heroes to acknowledge him.
"Here I am," he says, presenting himself, though the show hardly lasts a second.
He lunges at the villains, slow enough for them to react. Lava, fire, and earth swell. Izuku backs off
before he makes contact. Then, he cocks back one first and cranks the power up to his limit. He
throws an uppercut, the force of which causes a small cyclone to form. The wind rips and roars and
takes the earth with it. Piles of dirt and rock spin in the air, though the lava stubbornly resists.
Izuku uses the confusion to slip under his winds, capturing the villains on their backfoot.
"Anyone here have a cooling ability?" Izuku calls from atop his literal tower of defeated villains.
They take too long to answer. Danger Sense flares, forcing Izuku away. "Figure it out!" he orders,
"I've got other people to save!"
Everything starts to blur together after that. Each and every second is spent operating at maximum
capacity, with Izuku downing villains, rescuing heroes and the few civilians still around, and
administering first aid when needed. Blood stains his costume. Soot blackens his hair. His gloves
char, his eyes redden, and his boots begin to fall apart. He never slows.
"Detroit Smash!" He topples a small guard station on the edge of the facility, taking six or so
villains by utter surprise. They all scamper away. Izuku captures them in the waiting tendrils of
Blackwhip, ready to take off after ordering all the heroes still healthy back into the fight. But
something halts him.
"Boy." The voice is old and quiet, yet the weight it holds is enough to give him pause. Izuku turns.
There, standing in the main gate of the Deternerat compound is an older man flanked by two
hulking masses of flesh that Izuku can hardly call people. The man is wrapped in cloth, almost like
a mummy, though his face is left bare. He's not that old, maybe All Might's age. Izuku silently
hands over the villains he knocked out to the heroes at his back.
"I will allow you to surrender," Izuku states, as boldly as he can. "As far as I know you haven't
engaged any heroes so far."
"We are fresh," the man says, almost mirthful.
"I do not have the time to allow you to think," Izuku continues. "Surrender now, or we'll have to
fight."
"So impatient." The man reaches for his collarbone, gripping his wrappings. He begins to pull.
"Kids these days are—" Izuku cuts him off with a swift punch to the groin.
The man stubbles back with a cry of pain. Izuku follows up with a series of punches and kicks,
putting him on the backfoot as Blackwhip lashes out at the two beasts with the man. After one
rather vicious kick, Izuku jumps back and attacks one of the large fighters.
He tears into them, lashing out with every part of his body along with wind attacks, upping the ante
as he feels a lack of progress. His hits push them back and yet he can feel that there's no lasting
damage. Every time he knocks one down, they get back up. And they don't fight back. It's strange,
wrong, even. But Izuku doesn't allow himself to think about it. He jumps, wraps his legs around
one of their necks, and flips them over into the ground by their head. The world shudders.
"That's enough of this. Kill him."
The massive body under him turns, and Izuku barely has time to slip away before a fist rips through
the hair where his head was a moment before. A massive shockwave sweeps through the sky. And,
Izuku realizes, it didn't come from the one he slammed into the ground. Instead, it came from the
other one.
Izuku watches as the second of the beasts turns its glaring head, shaped like a bat, directly at him.
The older man, standing beside, touches his ally. A connection is formed by flesh on flesh. The
man's skin, formerly sickly pale, darkens to a reddish orange, seeping into the body of the beast.
"Come."
The other monster appears instantly at the man's side, the swiftness of the wind the only indicator
that it moved. The man reaches out to touch it, but Izuku attacks. Far faster than sound, he grabs
the man's free hand. Izuku wrenches it behind his back, feeling it pop out of its socket. He kicks
the other hand for good measure, breaking the connection. He ducks under a set of punches,
activating Float and taking to the air.
"What have you done!?" The villain's words are nearly swept away, but Izuku's closeness with him
makes it impossible to miss them.
"You'd think I'd just let you power up right and front of me?" Izuku allows himself to say. "I'm a
hero, not an idiot. What were you trying to do to them? What even are they?"
"Like I'd just tell yo—" Izuku drops him. It's cruel. It's wrong. He knows it's not something he'll
just forget later. But there's people dying, and he needs answers.
"I'm going to ask again," Izuku says, letting himself fall with the villain. "Tell me everything you
know." The villain doesn't respond. He's too busy screaming. Izuku catches him, slowing his fall
before stopping to make sure he doesn't get hurt.
"... You piece of—"
"I'll do it again," Izuku warns. "We're much lower now, if you haven't noticed. You'll need to think
about much more qu—"
"Wait!" The villain thrashes in his bindings. "They're experiments. They've got multiple Quirks,
Sensei built them to kill you and All Might."
"Where—" Danger Sense flares. Izuku barrel rolls to avoid a heavy, dark shape. It shoots far
enough to part the smoke and clouds above.
"I've given them an order, and they'll stop at nothing to confuse it." Izuku looks at the villain,
whose expression is something between pride and glee. "Of course, it doesn't matter that I told you.
The result will still be the same." Izuku tightens his hold on the villain, allowing Blackwhip to
squeeze the land ribcage as he tries to think of the plan. "You'll be a splatter of blood here in this
hell zone, with All Might to follow!"
The villain's skin melds with Blackwhip. It feels as though his very soul is being excavated and
refilled with boiling cement. He kicks the villain away, severing the connection. There's a sharp tug
followed by a pop. The pain disappears, but Izuku is left groggy. Danger Sense flares, warning him,
however he's far too slow to react. The other monster slams into him.
Izuku has enough sense to lash out. Blackwhip tears through his costume, stabbing and grabbing at
the thing trying to crush his ribcage. Izuku lets the power run all the way to the top, strong enough
to fill his own vision in green while the electricity courses through the monster's veins. With a yell
of excretion, he pushes. There's a thud followed by a woosh. The monster is forced away, and
Izuku can finally breathe.
The tackle took him an extra hundred meters into the sky. He finds himself breathing more, just
from the thinness of the air. The battle below is something out of a diagram in a museum, with
combatants the size of ants and buildings that look like they could be blown away with a mere gust
of wind. Izuku mentally prepared himself. He wants nothing more than to go back down there and
keep backing up the heroes, but…
He dodges another tackle, eyes scanning where the thing came from. Thankfully, the take off zone
is far away from the fighting. However, it's followed by a second one. Izuku dodges. Arching his
back, he lets the monster get past him. Then, he latches on to its back.
The force is enough to make him feel like his arms are being ripped from their sockets. Blackwhip
stretches like a rubber band as he holds on to it, One for All operating at the max output. He stops
the thing's movement dead. It begins to fall in the air, right as the one that jumped earlier begins to
descend. Izuku only needs a half second to think of a plan.
The two beasts collide mid air, the impact strong enough to shake the sky and split the air with an
impossibly loud crack. Izuku throws himself forward, grabbing one again using it as a shield to
shove the other one. He aims downward. Leaning forward, he begins to spin like a top, becoming a
drill twisting through the heavens. The world blends together in the corner of his vision, grey, red,
and brown turn into a muddled amalgamation of everything he can perceive.
Izuku hits the ground like a bomb. For a moment, there is no sound. With his eyes squeezed shut,
the only things his senses pick up are the blunt force of his dive, and the smell of burning. Then
the roar starts. A million people scream in his ear, crying bloody murder in a gutteral, animalistic
cacophony that shakes him to his core. The noise is so utterly, dominantly loud that he can't
comprehend it. And then it's all over in a millisecond. The two monsters attack him again.
He ducks and weaves, trying to think. They dance around each other, the two trying very hard to
kill him and Izuku trying very hard to think of a plan that'll actually work and get him back to what
he should be doing. Every moment spent fighting here is one he didn't spend saving a life, he
reminds himself.
Izuku doesn't dare take a hit from one of them. Each punch they throw is slipped, and each grapple
is dodged. They seem to be close range fighters exclusively. He quickly finds that they have no
way of closing the distance; they charge at him blindly every shot they get. It's brutal on his mind
and body, but slowly but surely, Izuku forms a plan.
"Detroit Smash!" The impact of Izuku's fist is absorbed in the gut of the bat monster. He follows
up with three more hits, all of them pushing eighty percent. Then, as much as it might backfire, he
hits it with a full force one hundred percent kick. The area around them, already completely clear
of every living thing, levels. The goliath pauses.
Its body ripples. Izuku jumps out of the way of the bat's companion, flying ten meters off the
ground. The thing still won't move. He grabs it with his tendrils, and only then does it begin to
thrash. Izuku drops it and lands on the overturned ground below. He steels himself with a breath.
"Eighty percent does nothing," he says, hyping himself up. His mind races, completing the puzzles.
No singular Quirk is that strong naturally. All for One built them to combat the full force of One
for All, who's greatest strength is the unbeatable raw power that comes from blunt attacks. The
smartest idea he can think of is to draw them away. That would never sit right with him.
Izuku rushes them both, charging at speeds he can only just handle. Stuck between the two of them,
he begins to work, dodging strikes and ripping into them with Blackwhip. As cruel as it might be,
the two never flinch when his tendrils begin to burrow into their flesh. Their fighting only becomes
more frenzied. Izuku bobs and weaves around kicks and headbutts, and nearly has a heart attack
when one of them begins to breathe fire.
They bore on, fighting two on one at full tilt. Izuku and Blackwhip rage, trying their best to
overload the other pair with punctures and blut hits, though never succeeding for long. The
monsters lunge and lash, always close but never close enough. Izuku is far too swift. He twists
around a kick, deflects a burst of fire, and kicks a knee, all while stabbing at one of the creature's
eyes. Danger Sense takes full control of his mind, becoming one with his instincts.
His bones begin to vibrate. That's the only way Izuku can describe it. Every inch of him is
swallowed by the power and mentality of One for All, his strengths and thoughts become its own,
and the Quirk's memories become his. Gone are the thoughts and rigged barriers of percents. Izuku
lets go of the leash, grabbing one of the monster's arms and twisting. With just the right amount of
force for his body to handle, he pulls the appendage out of the socket and throws it at the other
beast.
Izuku gives them no time to react. He grabs the bat headed one—who's shoulder trickles blood in a
slow but steady flow—and kicks the other one away. He tears into the bat, dodging fire as he
crushes its kneecaps and rips the other arm out. It thrashes to get free but makes no noise. Izuku
binds it. Breathing hard, he lets Danger Sense watch out for the other monster as he looks at the
one he's defeated. He only gets to see how its eyes are clouded over and lifeless before the arms
begin to regenerate.
"Of course." Izuku stomps on its forehead, making a small indent and stirring up a sizable gust of
wind. The dent pops back out as though nothing happened. Before Izuku gets a moment to think,
Danger Sense goes off, forcing him to turn. He crouches, making himself a smaller target. As the
other monster approaches, he tenses. He digs his feet into the ground. Then, he takes the tackle.
The sensation of being completely wrapped up inside of another living thing is not one Izuku can
forget easily. The weight, the heat, and the feel of the skin are all suffocating, but in an instant
they're all over.
Izuku throws the monster away, separating it from its companion as he crushes the bat's head under
his boot. The bat does not stirr. No move is made to attack or retreat, but the regeneration creeps
forward, centimeter by centimeter. Izuku studies it. The pink and purple and red of the flesh seem
to appear out of thin air, or like that of a plant in a time lapse. Sinew and muscle twist around each
other as bone extends every so slowly. Izuku watches half the shoulder reconstruct before he has to
fend off the other monster once more.
"All for One wasn't playing around when he made you." Something doesn't quite sit right with that.
Izuku knows in his bones that All for One wants One for All for himself. "So why…" His mind
begins to fog. Had All Might told him that? He killed all the previous uses, and voices to end the
legacy. How could Izuku be so sure he was wanted alive?
Izuku forces those thoughts away. He's in a battle. The smoke burning turns his attention back to
those bleeding and dying. He needs to get back to the fight. Taking a deep breath, he tries to think
of a plan. Smoke enters his airways. Izuku lets out a hacking cough strong enough to make him
double over. He flips up his respirator, finding an odd bit of humor in it. Not even One for All can
prevent smoke from hurting him.
He lingers on that thought for a moment. His eyes travel down to the best slowly healing below.
Smoke. Fire. Burns. Charred flesh. Izuku ducks under the other monster once more, grinning like a
maniac. The old myth of Heracles and the Hydra plays in his mind. Maybe…
"Carbonized cells can't regenerate."
Quick as lighting, Izuku wraps the monster up, digging Blackwhip into its brain to keep it docile.
Then, with the other one hot on his tail, he flees. High into the sky, he scans every inch of the
battlefield he can see through the smoke. A Frontline has formed. Heroes and villains fight up
close and from afar, but no longer are they in isolated groups. It's as though a toddler drew a jagged
line across a map of the whole facility, sorting buildings and open areas into Hero and Villain
sections. But Izuku doesn't care. In Fact, it fills him with confidence. All because it makes his
target easier to find.
[x]
" ENDEAVOR! "
The cry shakes the earth and parts the clouds as it travels, echoing in the vast emptiness of the sky.
Fighters halt their clashes, shaking and unsure; the weight and might of the voice enough to stall
even the most convenient and self centered. In the distance, out East towards the rising sun, a storm
rests. Though rest is a relative term. All can see the winds and lighting rip through the bombed out
area. But for a moment they halt.
"It would be dumb to ignore that," Hawks says, capitalizing on the freeze of movement to take
down a few trickier villains. "The kid's got something up his sleeve. Why don't you help him out,
big guy?"
Endeavor ignores Hawks, choosing to look out at the storm. He raises a single fist. Without so
much as a twist, a massive column of flame erupts from the man, spinning high towards the
heavens. Hawks' feathers whirl around it, scooping up villains and putting them out of commission.
Endeavor holds the flame for just a moment. Then the storm begins to grow closer.
"Not gonna move to him?" Hawks chides. "C'mon, you need to show some hustle."
"I'm in charge," Endeavor says gruffly. "He can come to me for help. Deku is not number one."
"Yet," Hawks adds. Endeavor shoots him a rather nasty look.
"He has a—"
The storm reaches them and descends in an instant, and a huge weight is placed upon Hawks'
chest. The air seems to grow denser, lighting up with green electricity that burns oxygen into
ozone. Yet even through that, he picks up on the smell of something old. As though he dug through
the earliest records the commission has to offer and chased a footnote to find the true origin of the
world's very birth. And before him stands Deku.
Not tall, but not short either. He hovers in mid air, lighting peeling off him in waves, with black
tentacles to compliment them. He's bloodstained and ragged. Or rather his costume is. The young
man has no injuries—not any real ones. After however long he's been fighting, not a scratch on his
actual body. It's almost hard to believe, but something else tells him that everything is how it's
meant to be.
Then he notices the goliaths. Bound in ink, they twitch and squirm, weakly straining against bonds
they have no hope of escaping. Hawks watches in sick fascination as a tentacle drills its way into
the head of one of the monsters. It stops moving outright, but as soon as the tentacle retracts, it
moves again, with obvious signs of healing.
"Deku," Endeavor says, "what the hell—"
More whips extend out of the young man's body, wrapping around the necks of the monsters.
Without so much as a flinch, Deku decapitates them. He points to the heads that have fallen to the
earth. Already they've begun to regenerate. "Burn."
Endeavor doesn't hesitate. Hawks finds himself keeping watch over the two of them as Deku fills
them in. "Enough raw strength to compete with me, but I'm faster and more agile. They were made
to kill me and All Might."
And yet you killed both of them, Hawks thinks. Because make no mistake, Endeavor's flame is only
useful because Deku beat the tar out of them. Did no one truly understand how strong the kid—
more man, now, really—was? Hawks definitely didn't. Everyone thought he was a contender to
take All Might's place, sure, but this? The charred stench of burning flesh fills his nostrils, warning
him of danger. What little avian instincts he actually has scream at him to fly away, fully aware
that there's something much bigger than him close by. Something more a predator than a literal
bird of prey.
Hawks pushes his less human instincts down. "We good?" he calls, knocking away the three or so
villains stupid enough to attack them while they're preoccupied with the monsters. "There's a battle
to win."
His feathers ruffle when Deku looks at him. Hawks' training kicks in, ensuring that he doesn't
show his uneasiness, but it's there. He makes eye contact with the young man while holding a good
natured smile. Deku doesn't have one to match. His face is flat, freckled with ash, blood, and mud.
His Quirk is still going crazing, messing up the atmosphere and causing the earth to shift below
him. Lightning cracks from his eyes and the tentacles still hold on to the bodies of the monsters.
Like dolls. Deku is completely unrecognizable from the boy Hawks took under his wing almost a
year ago. His gut turns.
"Let's move," Deku agrees. Beside him, Endeavor lets his fire grow higher.
"We're on the far right flank," Endeavor says. "We'll work our way down the front, ending any
fight we come across."
"Splitting up was a bad idea," Deku agrees. Would it kill him to dial the power back a little?
"I'll clean up," Hawks says. "You two go first and hit them hard. I'll make sure our people can
capture all the villains."
Hawks watches as the pair rip through the line soon after. Fire and lighting dance together as allies,
together yet different minded. His own red feathers sweep up any remains, sending the injured to
medics and pinning those too stubborn to give up. Not that there are many. Anyone who looks at
Deku seems to get the impression that fighting back is useless. Like All Might back in the day,
only more than a foot shorter and more dramatic outward displays of power. It's terrifying, even
more than it should be, since the commission is still dead set on having him for themselves.
"Good luck with that," Hawks almost laughs. There isn't a single thing about Deku that can be
considered normal, and for the time being, that's fine. Hopefully he'll get rid of those Meta Human
Liberation idiots, and then… well, if All Might couldn't beat All for One, maybe Deku and All
Might could.
Chapter End Notes
Funny how finially deciding what you want to do with your life complicates it rather
than simplifying it. I know what I want to do for a living now, but it's only made me
make busy and divided my attention more. For a while my stories where all I really
had to do in my spare time, but now I'm preparing for my life after highschool for, like,
an extra three hours a day.
I'm still finishing this thing. I'd never forgive myself if I wrote almost five hundred
thousand words without an ending. Writting is still fun, too. Just not what I love most
right now.
Izuku's fucking Eldritch when he gets close to 100%. There's no way he's not. Every
Quirk he has just kinda points him down that road, plus the lighting, plus the fact that
when he fights, he's pretty brutal, even in canon. So yeah, it shows. But he's also hyped
up on adrenaline stress, so it's probably a little more intense than it would otherwise
be.
Endeavor is a little salty that this kid is stronger than him. Hawks is fly on the wall and
kinda digs it. Toshinori is gonna have a helluva time see what is boy is when he gets
mad. Next one might be lighter? Maybe? I have a hard time writing stuff that's not
intense and angst. Cheers.
Discord:
https://discord.gg/APHJYTqH
Tomura and Izuku
Chapter Notes
"Where am I?"
Another bucket of ice water splashes on the man's covered face. He swears, straining against his
bonds. Between shivers he bites at the bag covering his eyes. His fingers grow red from clawing at
the ropes. His suit, formerly perfect and pressed, wrinkles and tears under his effort.
"I demand—"
"You're in no place to demand anything."
The man stills. "Who are you?"
The sound of shattering pottery echoes through the barren room. The man holds his tongue, though
his shoulders are still set in firm defiance. "I'm the one who leveled your factory and brought your
company to its knees."
"One man could hardly do that on his own."
"I agree." More water is thrown on the man, this time boiling hot. He screams and writhes in his
chair, not noticing when a hand touches the bag on his head, disintegrating it. "However a CEO
ought to understand how a power structure works, no?"
ReDestero bites his tongue, forcing any screams of pain back down. He glares up at his chapter.
Red eyes and mangey white hair. "You're a brat," he spits. Blood trickles down his chin, staining
his tie. "What does a dumb collage kid know about structure?"
"It can be a pain," the young man says, lowering himself to look ReDestero in the eyes. One of his
hands comes up to rest on the other man's cheek, only four fingers touching. ReDestero follows up
with his eyes. His brow furrows in concentration. With a grunt of effort, he fights against his bonds.
Nothing happens. "But I've found my uses for it."
"What did you do to me!?"
The young man stands and looks over his shoulder. A door opens behind him and in walks a tall
woman flanked by a pair of hulking beasts. She holds a brutal looking syringe. "I'm going to be
upfront with you, ReDestero."
"What did you do to my Quirk?"
"See, Sensei was fine with having you and your little cult plotting in the background. Your goals
were even aligned for a brief period of time. But." He takes the syringe from the woman and
inspects the needle. He holds it delicately, never touching it with more than three fingers. "I
suppose there is no but. You didn't change anything. Sensei didn't change anything. He simply
decided it wasn't worth it to worry about another variable."
"The Meta Human Liberation Army is more than just another vari—"
"Ah, ah, ah," the man says, lightly flicking the syringe with one of his index fingers. "I'm not done.
See, Sensei is strong. You were also strong. As far as I'm concerned this is just another case of two
apex predators battling it out. And you lost, which means we get all the loot. "
With that last word he drives the syringe into ReDestero's sternum. "The heroes were on to you,
anyway. It would have been wasteful if they got all of those weapons and factories and pawns. It's
better this way."
He laughs as he pushes down on the syringe. Even as ReDestero thrashes moans in pain from the
feeling of that rotten medicine coursing through his veins, he giggles. It's high and reedy, a child's
laugh coming from caked, chapped lips and mad eyes.
"Sensei took your Quirk. He does that quite a lot." The needle draws back. ReDestero slumps
forward. "Your people, on the other hand, he can't take. They're a little too loyal for that. Luckily
for you, that means you'll live long enough to name me the new leader of your cult."
"Over my dead body."
"That can be arranged." The hand comes back to cup his face. "See, I don't have to kill you. I want
to, but Sensei sees a use for your life no matter how mundane. So you can die down here, feeling
every atom in your body breaking down one by one. It would normally be Quicker but that little
drug I gave you has a nasty habit of slowing Decay down. Or…"
ReDestero closes his eyes tight. "I'll live. Even if it's only long enough to stab you in the back."
"Very well. See to it that he gets cleaned up. Sensei won't like it if our little puppet is ragged." The
young man exits, and just a few rooms down the hall, All for One smiles.
Tomura walks with light feet and the air of a half dead beggar. His shoulders are slanted and his
breathing is rough, but he enters All for One's chamber with confidence. There is no throne or king
to bow to. There are only screens, dozens of them, each showing something different. In the middle
of the room there is a single chair. On that chair sits All for One.
"I heard that you were successful."
"It hardly took any convincing. The villains here are so soft compared to the ones overseas."
"It cannot be helped. All Might drove all the strongest into extinction. Though perhaps without our
involvement his little army could have rocked the boat. Either way it doesn't matter; I now remain
as the only true threat to modern society."
"Yes. You." Tomura stuffs his hands into his pockets. "You, and my army, and my victories, and
my ideals."
"Is that a challenge, Tomura?"
"No. I just find it funny how you sit here, watching your screens all day and gossipping with the
doctor while I lead my villains and conquer our enemies."
"Hmm. Perhaps it is a challenge." Bright red tentacles spring from All for One's fingertips. They
move faster than Tomura can think, impaling him through his clothes as blood flies. The young
man is brought to his knees from the pain as red energy courses through him. "Listen here and
listen well, Tomura. I am your teacher.
"I allow you to run around, leading and winning to your heart's desire so long as you serve my
interests. This is not something you do on your own free will. Our goals are the same, not because
we are equal partners, but because I am your master. Everything you've won is mine. You are my
successor, yes, but should you truly wish to inherit you must learn your place."
The words ring hollow. The tendrils retract. "Did I make myself clear?"
Tomura stands, looking All for One right where his eyes should be. "Crystal."
"Very well. You are dismissed."
Tomura hobbles away, clutching at the open wounds left by All for One. The hallway is empty.
No one greets him or helps him to his feet. So Tomura limps onward, cursing himself and his
master. His master for being a self-centered backstabber, and himself for not seeing it. The metal
walls and cold stone floor stink with regret. The flickering lights mock his foolishness.
"Too late. Every time too late." Blood drops down between his fingers. It clots on the floor, frozen
in place. He wipes it away with his shoe before spilling to the ground. He manages to sit upright,
feeling the holes in his body as the world spins. He loses track of the time that passes. Eventually,
someone picks him up.
"I see that our lord wasn't pleased." Tomura tests on a table, eyes closed in exhaustion and thought.
"What was it this time?"
"My victories…"
" His victories."
Tomura keeps quiet, biding his time as his healing wounds throb in time with his heartbeat. His
victories. Not All for One's, Shigaraki Tomura's. Won with his wits and leadership, and the new
mentality he gave to those under him. All his master did was point the finger. His hands itch.
"He seemed particularly irritable today," Tomura whispers. A meter away, the doctor stills.
"Why, yes. All for One was hardly pleased this morning. Even if his attack on Deternerat was
successful, he struggled to property use that Yakuza girl's Quirk."
"Oh?"
"Indeed. It requires healthy cells to work, otherwise it can't build up the energy needed to rewind.
Unfortunately, our lord doesn't have a surplus of healthy cells, and he doesn't trust her to use it on
him."
"Interesting."
"Yes. Interesting." The doctor turns, eyes narrowed. Tomura forces his body to relax. He deflects.
"I'm sure it will come with time. That girl will be trained, and he'll be brought back to full health.
The heroes won't know what hit them."
"It will be a fine day." The doctor returns to his lab work, leaving Tomura alone with his thoughts.
The pain lessens a little, and he gains the strength to rise.
"I'm going to sleep. I'll let you know—"
"You'll let All for One know before me."
"Understood."
Tomura limps away again, this time his mind races. There is still rage, yes, but it's tempered now.
He stops every few meters to lean against the wall to rest, thinking all the while. Outlandish ideas
bounce back and forth. Some are appealing, and some will undoubtedly get him killed in brutal
fashion. But then again doing nothing would soon lead there as well.
"Damn!"
"Quite! She's sleeping!"
Tomura stops once more just outside someone else's room. He peaks in. There, sitting on a bed, are
Twice and Toga. His nose wrinkles in distaste. Then he sees the girl, resting in Toga's lap. His
breath catches. It… it would be easy. To come back later in the night, once Twice and Toga fell
asleep playing video games and talking. They wouldn't notice, not at first. Tomura could creep in
the room and find the little girl.
It would be easy to kill her. Perhaps not tonight, if All for One took her back to his own chamber
for safekeeping. But there would be a time where she was out. Loose. Vulnerable. He could kill her
then, just a simple touch would do it. While she's asleep so she can't rewind him. Then he could
take the dust and—
It wouldn't matter. All for One would know like he always does, and he'd kill Tomura. Torture him,
too, for taking away his only shot at being whole again. Though Rewind might not be his only
chance. With a pained grunt, Tomura makes it to his own chamber. Is rusted and infested with filth
and insects. But it has a bed, a table, and enough space to house some of his more trusted advisors.
"Shigaraki," a man greets. Someone else approaches to lift him up and haul him to a chair. Tomura
mumbles out some form of gratitude and relaxes as best he can. Few of them are openly concerned,
he notes. There are six of them, all staring, but two express their worry. He quickly waves them
off, not wanting any form of pity. A heavy glass is offered to him. He accepts and drinks deeply.
"Was it All for One?"
"Yes."
They don't voice their disdain. They're much too smart for that. Tomura finishes the glass. He
looks down at it, taking in his reflection at the bottom. He hates how tired and weak he looks. How
he can see in his own eyes that he's a piece of trash cast aside for newer and more useful toys. Toys
just a few meters down the hall. The glass disintegrates.
"Our great leader," he says, putting every ounce of venom he can muster into his words, "has
hidden his intentions. He wishes to rule. That is something I share with him. But he wishes to rule
as a King. An Emperor. A Tyrant. The sole monolith of the world, All power for One man. This is
where we differ.
"I am nothing without my people. Some are tools, some are fodder, but most are valued
comrades." He looks around the room, emboldened by their attention. "I lead, but I am no emperor.
I rule, but I am not a king. I fight with my people. I listen to them, I give them new lives, and I take
them in. I do not throw them away when they've become useless, or when someone better comes
along. I am not All for One."
There are no cheers. They know better than that. To cheer for Tomura is to slander All for One,
and to slander All for One means death for those who are replaceable. So they drink. All at once.
Tomura watches them, bitterly pleased.
"When the next attack occurs," he says, "we will not be on the front lines. We'll be hunting. For
one of All for One's most critical targets."
"Deku?"
"No. Chisaki Kai."
Tomura will not be too late. Not this time, and never again after.
[x]
"The attack on Deternerat has set a precedent for future incidents. The villains have gotten far too
cocky without All Might present, and our current heroes were lackluster at dealing with a battle
like that!"
"Lackluster is far too lenient. The fighting lasted for three hours! In that time, thirty factory
workers were killed, with a hundred more gravely injured. Another six are still missing! There's
billions of yen in property damage, and, worst of all, they didn't capture the organizers of the
attack!"
The TV blinks back for a moment before coming back on to show another newsroom.
"… these images taken from the factory complex show what it was like inside moments before the
first explosion. From outside, the primary office building on site is pristine in the morning sun. It
would all be reduced to ash in a manner of hours. Heroes arrived almost immediately but found it
difficult to end the carnage.
"It was hell." The screen changes, displaying an interview with a heavily bandaged worker from
the factory. "The villains walked in there like they owned the place and started to wreck the
production lines. They forced me to tell them where our own incendiaries were kept and used those
to blow the whole place up. When a hero finally showed up, he was useless! They almost killed
him! I was still there by the time that whole Storm of Fire thing went down!"
The screen changes again to show a clean up crew at the remains of the Deternerat factory.
"It's still burning. We've got all the water Quirks and hoses within a hundred kilometers but every
time the wind shifts…" A disgruntled fireman shakes his head and jerks his thumb at the flames a
kilometer or so behind him. "It's not going out anytime soon. Endeavor and Deku didn't hold back,
that's for sure."
For the last time the channel changes. Instead of a newsroom, a brightly colored cartoon appears,
where a pink figure is being hit with a bowling ball. He shatters into a dozen or so pins. "Finland!"
"That's more like it," Hawks says, feet kicked up on the ping-pong table of the Endeavor agency
rec room. To his right, Best Jeanist snatches away the remote and hits the power button.
"Save your shenanigans for after the meeting. We're all here and should begin promptly."
"I must object to beginning," Edgeshot replies. His eyes calmly shift over to Izuku, boring into him
with caution. "This is for a select group only. I'm afraid Deku is not in our circle."
Izuku straightens as nine pairs of eyes land on him. "I am here in place of All Might," he says. "I've
been close to him for some time now and he turns me to act in his stead."
"You're much too young." Down at the end of the table Ryukyu lances her fingers together. "Still
in highschool and without a full license. Most of us have been doing this since you were a toddler.
Some since before you were born." A few eyes creep towards Hawks and Mirko, the youngest
present save Izuku. But none of them are doubting. "I do not feel comfortable disgusing sensitive
information with a boy not even eighteen."
"He's proved himself," a low voice wispers. "We have all seen him fight. He's a prodigy, and if
Yagi claims him as his speaker than I shall allow it."
Izuku dips his head at the aging woman at the head of the ping-pong table. "Thank you, ma'am."
"Oh, don't thank me yet." The woman chuckles. "You have to convince the others. Endeavor and
Hawks may back you, but no one else does. That simply won't fly."
"Nice pun there, gram," Hawks says, half heartedly trying to steal the remote back from Jeanist.
"It wasn't a pun."
"But you're the headmistress of Shiketsu!" Izuku butts in. "Surely—"
"I am not the leader of this organization. We hardly even are and organization." Headmistress Ito
tilts her head upward. "Endeavor has called a meeting, which means he gets to speak first. The rest
of us may choose to listen or leave, as most of us wish to do in your presence. We are all here on
our own accord; a group of concerned heroes who wish to do what the commission can't. I hold no
more say than Hawks."
"Hey."
"My point still stands," Izuku pushes on. "I'm here for All Might, and you all know what I'm
capable of. My input holds just as much weight as any of yours."
"Rather bold," Gang Orca says. "That is not a quality we particularly like here."
"He takes after All Might much more than he should," Nighteye says, breaking his focused trance
by pushing up his glasses. "It would be wise to leave him out, though he's inevitably uncover
exactly what we discuss anyway."
"Just because you are strong doesn't mean that you get to play ball with us," Jeanist says, receiving
a few nods of agreement. "We don't know you or your motives. Even your allegiance is up in the
air; you could very well be a spy for the commission meant to pass on our plans and get us all
locked up for conspiracy."
"I thought there was no conspiracy," Izuku says carefully, "that we were just a group of heroes
brought together to do more than the commission is."
"There is no we yet, kid," Mirko says. "I was in your shoes back when they were first recruiting
me, Hawks too. You wait for the old farts to vet you and then you can sit in. Till then you have to
deal with knowing that we exist and getting bossed around a little, just so we know your intentions
are good."
"Have I not proven my intentions?" Izuku asks incredulously. "I've offered up my life for those in
need, I've given up almost my entire life out of heroics and servitude for the past two years!"
"Two years of sixteen is hardly anything compared to some of us," Headmistress Ito says. Izuku
locks eyes with her.
"I thought you were in favor of me?"
"I am, but I understand where my comrades are coming from. Such is a good component of a team,
one you ought to learn."
Izuku sighs. "I understand that I'm young. I get that none of you know me really well. But I'm
trying to do what's best for the people of this country, and I can't do it without your help. All of you
combined have access to resources, information, and experience that I don't."
"Which is precisely why we don't need you," Nighteye says bluntly. "You're the one who needs us.
We, on the other hand, aren't short of anything you'd bring to the table."
"Raw power," Endeavor says before Izuku can argue. "We're short of that without All Might, but
we'll get by. You may be my apprentice, Deku, but we are not partners. If you wish to take part in
our activities you'll have to do it as my trainee."
" That I can agree with," Ryukyu says, and the rest of the heroes murmur in agreement.
"We do want you," Edgeshot adds. "We'd be fools not to see your merit. But we cannot trust you."
"Minimal involvement." Nighteye straightens in his seat and adjusts his tie. "I would be in favor of
that as well, however someone is going to make that difficult." His eyes drift over to the door of the
reck room, soon followed by everyone else's. No one enters.
"Perhaps that is not today…"
Izuku watches the door intently. Something draws him in, a force on the other side mesmerizing
him. He picks up on the sound of heavy footsteps. They're even and confident, and awfully
familiar. He smiles, pleasantly surprised. It wasn't supposed to be today. In fact, they'd even talked
about it happening weeks down the line. But the doorknob turns.
The door opens wide. The room falls still once more, with varying degrees of shock and disbelief.
All Might stands in the door. All Might, not Yagi Toshinori, but the hero everyone knows and
reverse. The same imposing height, the same smile. However the build is different. He's slimmer,
less bodybuilder and more of an athlete. His skin is a little more pale, and his hair is thinner. He's
not in costume. The tight tee in its palace shows off the lines of the gnarled scar on his stomach in
perfect detail.
"I hope I haven't missed anything important," All Might says, walking over to Izuku to stand
behind him. There's a certain weight to his voice that hasn't changed. Power from his massive
lungs force everyone present to sit up straight and to go away with their casual fidgeting. Izuku
himself widens his stance, feet shoulder width apart as he places his hands behind his back.
"We weren't expecting you," Endeavor says. He's the only one to look All Might directly in the
face, his piercing blue eyes unshaken though his flames have muted. "Deku gave us the impression
that you would still be recovering for a few more days."
"That was my impression as well, however my doctor informed me that I was ahead of schedule."
All Might's smile widens just a little before his mouth sets into a firm line. "It was just at the right
time. With how the world is currently, I will be returning to my regular duties soon."
"That will be a huge boost to morale more than anything," Nighteye says. "That, and the villains
will most likely grow less bold. Though I have yet to look too far into the future—"
"Perhaps you should look," Edgeshot interrupts. "Any idea of how to proceed would be useful,
especially now that we have our number one back with us."
All Might stiffens as Nighteye looks at him. Through his glasses Izuku can see how his eyes spiral
with purple. "No. I will not look further ahead than the end of the week."
"Is that truly wise—"
"There is wisdom in not trusting foresight too much," Headmistress Ito says. "It has led us astray
before, and ruined many bonds. Isn't that right?" Nighteye holds his tongue. "I thought as much.
Let's focus on the present for now. All Might, you have the floor if you wish."
"Thank you. Now, as I'm sure young Izuku was telling you—"
"He wasn't," Ryukyu says. "In fact, we were just discussing his presence."
"Ah." All Might moves, drawing a chair to sit down in. Izuku remains standing, rooted behind his
master. "I see. I thought there wouldn't be a problem with him, however it seems I was mistaken."
"Yes," Gang Orca agrees. "Most of us take exception to him, not on his merit, but on his age."
Nighteye picks up for him, running down a rather long winded list of reasons why Izuku shouldn't
be there. Most of them boil down to him being too young, though a few are clearly personal to the
man, something that makes Izuku's skin itch.
"I appreciate your input," All Might says once Nighteye has finished. "Is this what most of you
think?" All but the Headmistress and Hawks nod. "Very well." All Might sits up in his chair, hands
lightly clasping the armrests. He takes a deep breath and deflates.
Izuku nearly jumps. However, upon closer inspection, there's very little to be worried about. The
steam that rises from All Might's skin is thin and wispy; it lacks the burning hot it used to have
before his many operations. His muscles hardly shrink at all, though they lose their definition.
There's still power there, though the sun is clearly setting. His eyes are just a little more hollow. His
breathing is a little less even.
"This is much better than what I was just a few months ago," All Might says. "You all knew I was
injured, but I'd hazard a guess that none knew how gravely." His eyes drift over to Nighteye as he
rests a palm on his old scar. "I'm slowly giving out. I can still fight at a higher level than most of
you, but given what happened at Deternerat yesterday…"
"Even more of a reason to take things slow with the boy," Edgeshot says. "This is a fragile moment
in the struggle between good and evil. If we rush—"
"We can't afford not to rush," All Might says, voice low and hard. A far cry from his usual heroic
lit. "All for One is alive. I'd wager he isn't in much of a better state than I am, but he doesn't have to
be. Those creatures Izuku killed, they're not his only ones, nor are they his first experiments. As far
as I'm concerned, we lost the chance to take things slow with Izuku almost a year ago."
"There is no reason to place that boy on a ped—"
"It would be best to leave your personal grudges out of this, Sasaki," All Might interrupts. Across
the table, Nighteye stiffens. "I have chosen; the boy is my successor. And in these times, the value
of him outweighs the value of mine."
"Sir!" Izuku gasps. All Might doesn't look back at him. He holds his gaze steady, eyes locked to his
old sidekick. The armrests of his chair begin to creek under the strain of his grip.
"I am a symbol. A pillar. I hold up the foundation of our modern society, and I will continue to do
so until I am put out of commission for good. But I am rotten. My night is slowly breaking down.
I've bought a little time with my operation, but at best all I've done is slap a bandaid on the much
greater issue.
"All Might, the hero, cannot last."
The room holds its breath. "He will have to," Endeavor says. All Might shakes his head.
"I can't. I am not all powerful. I can fight, I can save, but the real fight is beating All for One and
his beasts. That is something I can't do without the help of Izuku, or rather he without the aid of
me. Or you all."
"All Might will have to last," Endeavor repeats, "because the world will fall if he does not. You are
wise; brilliant, even. But you are foolish to think that shifting society's faith in you—faith that has
been built up over decades and has only just now begun to see doubt—onto a teenaged boy in his
second year of being a hero. Deku will be our next symbol. No one here can logically doubt that,
least of all myself. But the world is not ready, he is not ready."
All Might shakes his head. He looks down at the palms of his hands, taking in every crease. "You
are completely right. In any other world, I would want nothing more than to shelter him, to make
sure every lesson I have to give sinks in completely. But our time is short, our days numbered, and
our enemies more powerful than they've ever been. So Deku must rise, and we must lift him up."
"I believe that some time to ourselves is in order," Best Jeanist says. "We can reconvene tomorrow,
but I know I would like some time to think and come to terms with my thoughts."
No one objects. Silently, they all pick up and leave. Off to their normal patrols, or home, or
somewhere quiet to think. Izuku watches them all leave, mind hard at work. Soon only he and All
Might are left. Even Endeavor slips out, texting with one hand has his flames dim. "How…" Izuku
starts. He can't find the words to finish.
"You are quite the hero already, Izuku," All Might says. "They can see that. All I needed to do was
push."
"That's not what I meant."
"Oh?"
"How much do they know?"
All Might hums, understanding what Izuku means. "All for One can take and give Quirks. He is
my greatest nemesis, and I thought I killed him six years ago. I've been training you to take on my
mantle out of my worth for the future. That is all."
"I see." Izuku takes a deep breath and sits down. "It's all so much."
"I'm sorry." Toshinori leans back in his seat and places a hand on Izuku's shoulder. "I should have
given you more time to speak. I should have explained what my plan was with putting you in this
situation. I… well, I'm not the best when it comes to heavy things such as this, let's put it that way."
"It's alright. I… I've gotten used to the pressure by now. Sort of." Izuku closes his eyes and takes a
few deep even breaths. When had his heart started to race?
"The world isn't on your shoulders yet," Toshinori says, more than a little humorous. They share a
quiet laugh, enough to dispel some of the nerves. "We're here to support you. I'm here to help you.
They're right about you not being ready, but you're so close. "
"When will I be ready?"
"When you yourself feel that you are."
Izuku shakes his head. "That feels so far off. Fighting I can do. Being a hero I can do. But… taking
your place is just so much more. What if I mess up?"
Toshinori shrugs. "I messed up much more than you have. That's part of the process. I wouldn't be
half the man I am today without my failures, and you'll be the same."
"But—"
"Do you remember why I picked you?"
"I moved."
"That you did. You moved without thinking that day, to save a life in danger that you knew might
cost you yours." Toshinori smiles, and Izuku looks him in the eye. "It's in your very nature, son.
You may fail, yes, but you will always do the right thing. You will always rush in. For better or
worse, you're a hero to the core. And no true hero would let themselves do nothing when they can
make a difference."
Izuku shakes his head and sniffs, trying not to tear up. "I'm still going to doubt myself."
"Not forever, though self criticism isn't a flaw on its own."
"No, it'll be forever. You're All Might. I'm just Izuku."
"The shoe will fit one day," Toshinori insists. "I can't wait to see the day that you finally run."
Izuku can't help but roll his eyes. It's all he can do to hide the tears. "I'm going to cry over a shoe
metaphor."
Toshinori only laughs. He wraps Izuku in a firm hug, and for a moment the future seems clear.
Chapter End Notes
Parallels man, parallels.
I'm thinking of changing the summary. I'm open to ideas regarding the quote blurb. If
you think there's a good line in this story that sums it up really well, comment it or join
my discord and let me know there. Cheers.
Discord:
Atlas' Apprentice
Chapter Notes
The bar bites into his hands, pinching at already callused skin as Izuku looks straight ahead. The
mirror in front of him tells no lies. His muscles strain against the weight, holding it all steady as he
backs up from the rack. He's sweaty but not tired. There's a little fatigue in his legs but not nearly
enough to call what he's done a good workout. So he'll burn himself out to make sure nothing goes
to waste.
It's not hard for him to work out anymore. It hasn't been for a while, he realizes. He lifts more, rests
less, and oftentimes adds more on to what he should be doing. His body doesn't seem to mind,
though Izuku does find it odd. He's overworked himself before and based on his activities of the
past few weeks he should be feeling the symptoms. Yet he isn't. He'll take it as a blessing.
"Midoriya."
Izuku drops his barbell, caught off guard by Aizawa leading the students in. He quickly picks his
gym jacket off the floor and slips it on, waving to all of them as they approach. "Hey. Sorry, I got a
bit carried away there. Everyone have a chance to relax?"
They'd gotten a day off after Deternerat. Almost everyone in Japan did, barring heroes and other
essential workers. It threw off the training regimen a little bit, however Izuku and All Might were
anything but inflexible. He wasn't at all worried about how they'd progress.
"As much as they could have in only a day," Aizawa answers for the students. "And I see that you
didn't rest at all."
"Didn't need to," Izuku says, sensing a little disappointment in his teacher's tone. "I felt good to go
after a night's sleep. There's no days off when you gotta be ready to go at any time."
His words send a ripple through the students. They seem impressed, though there's definitely some
uneasiness and weary looks mixed in. "Take note, you lot," Aizawa says to the first years as he
heads for the door, "for as hard as you're working right now, there will always be another level. It's
up to you where you end up."
The doors close and Izuku's left alone with his charges. "Any questions before I let you get started
on stretches?"
"Where's Mr Yagi?"
"He had some personal issues come up after the attack on Deternerat," Izuku explains. It's not
exactly a lie, and they'll know the truth eventually, but he can cover for All Might for just a little
while longer. "He's taking some PTO to get his affairs in order and should be back to teaching
around the Sports Festival."
"That's so far off…"
"Not really." Izuku looks at them one by one. "It comes up quick when you're working hard.
Believe me, I know that really well. I'll let you guys stretch out while I clean up and get ready for
today's session. Scream if you need me."
He showers and changes. He makes a quick deal of both, getting in and out of the locker room in
less than five minutes. He emerges with wet hair and fresh clothes. A few students notice him as
they work on their stretches. He waves to them, smiling as he walks to the center of the room. They
smile back but their expressions are pinched.
The more Izuku looks the more it becomes clear that the students are struggling. All of them, much
more so than the normal amount. They fail easy lifts, not because they're tired but because they're
distracted. It's hard to tell what's keeping their attention. If it were one or two, Izuku would simply
ask. But it's all of them. They all move slower than usual. They all stare off into space or directly
at him.
"What's up?" Izuku asks as he approaches Kirishima's rack. Tetsutetsu pauses his set of squats.
Izuku motions for him to keep lifting as he squats down by Kirishima and Ojiro on a bench
nearby.
"Just lifting," Kirishima replies. His eyes dart over to Izuku and then back to the floor. "All the
normal stuff. It's a tough lift today."
"It shouldn't be," Izuku says. "Toshi bumped down the weights because he thought you guys
would still be a little shaken up after what happened."
"I don't know why we would be," Ojiro says. "I mean, we weren't attacked. Our training was just
interrupted, and then…"
"You're all having an off day," Izuku comments. "1-B and 1-A. On a day that you guys should be
getting through easily. Is there any reason why?"
"I dunno," Kirishima says, shrugging. "I've just felt a little out of it since that day, y'know? There's
just more pressure to do well, and everytime I try to do something it just feels… harder."
Izuku thinks for a moment. He looks at Ojiro and Tetsutetsu, who's finished his set. "Do you guys
feel the same?"
"A little."
"It feels like everything's sunk in," Tetsutetsu agrees. "Like I'm here at UA. I'm gonna be a hero,
and when the world is how it is… not to mention I saw you kick some major ass on TV and it's
made me a little bit more intimidated by you."
"You're just so manly, man," Kirishima says. Tetsutetsu nods in agreement. Izuku smiles a little
and stands up to look around the room, watching as the first years struggle to keep going.
"Thank you. I'll keep that in mind for a while. Finish your work out and when everyone's done
we'll have a little talk, alright?"
They agree and Izuku resumes his watching. He lets all of them complete their workouts before
having them relax on the floor and benches as he himself sits on top of a rack. There's a little bit of
tension as they all recover, as though they've done something wrong and are about to get a lecture.
Izuku does his best to placate that feeling with an easy smile.
"Are we doing alright?"
No one replies. His smile falls.
"C'mon, guys. I'm not an idiot, I know there's something up. I even have a pretty good idea as to
what it is, good. Talk to me, I'm here to help."
A little tension falls from their shoulders. It's progress, but they're still so stiff. Izuku sighs.
"Alright. Do I just need to monologue?"
"Yeah, probably."
"Thanks, Kaminari," Izuku says as the rest of the class chuckles. "But I'm serious. I want to help
you guys through whatever this is, but I can't if I don't know what's wrong or what might make it
better. Is it a shock thing? I know a lot of people are still getting their mind around what happened.
There hasn't been an attack like that in decades."
"How… how do you do it?"
"I'm sorry?" Izuku asks. He looks Kendo from 1-B right in the eye as he does, taking in how she
fidgets.
"Like… I get that you're strong and well trained and the second coming of All Might or something.
But how do you just go through something like that and come out the other side so… casual?"
"I mean, having loads of combat experience will do that—"
"I'm not talking about skill!" Kendo interrupts. "Sorry. I know we'll have the skill to do it
eventually, but… when I saw what was happening there, I felt… terrified."
"Thank you for telling me," Izuku automatically says. "Does anyone else have something to add?"
"How do you deal with the pressure?" Hagakure from 1-A asks. "I just… I don't know if I could."
Izuku looks down at his hands for a moment. He breathes deeply. "For me, it was a gradual build.
It should be for you guys, too, but I see how what happened can give you all a sudden lurch. I've
had a few of those. It feels like there's a huge weight, yeah? One that stays the same no matter how
hard you train or hype yourself up. It gets easier with time.
"You guys don't have to worry as much," Izuku continues. "I don't mean to sound condescending,
but you're all first years. You have time to learn and grow, to change and get ready to carry that
weight. It doesn't mean you're not allowed to feel this way," he quickly adds. "You should. This is
normal and great for you to get used to. We're… we're at a time of change right now.
"All Might isn't gonna be here forever," he says, addressing the elephant in the room. He forces out
a laugh. "Everyone knows it, villains especially. They can taste it, and so can us heroes. Battles are
getting harder, the world's more dangerous, and old pillars are giving way. We'll all be feeling this
way for a while. As for how I deal?"
Izuku shrugs. "I push forward. I've got friends, family, and teachers who love and care for me, and
I in return. We support each other through this stuff. That's not always enough for me, though." He
scans the room, catching a few of their eyes. "This pressure to perform in this world, or even the
fear of failure as things heat up—I've had it for a while. I've found the best thing for me is to train
and to train hard. If I'm giving my all everyday, then there's nothing more I can do. Combine that
with my support, and the pressure is manageable."
"Are things going to be alright?" Izuku stares at Uraraka, who stands tall even as everyone looks at
her.
"I don't know," Izuku replies. A few of the first years flinch. "I don't mean to worry you guys, but
things are touchy. We're all working hard, though. Every single hero saw what happened at
Deternerat and took it as a warning. I'm upping my training and the older pros are leading
operations to take care of the people that organized the attack. With any luck, it'll all be settled by
the time you graduate."
"What if we want to help?" Izuku smiles as Inasa raises his hand. "There's gotta be something we
can do other than train, right?"
"Help your communities," Izuku answers. "Really," he adds, seeing a few looks of discontent.
"What do you think is going to happen as villain activity ramps up? People will get scared, they'll
stop going out, they'll start living in fear and mistrust. It'll take a toll on the country's mental health.
So help around, maybe get a job or volunteer. Till you get your licenses there's not much else you
can do."
"I want to be stronger," Bakugo declares. He's standing even though no one else is. His eyes lock
with Izuku's, holding firm with a sort of controlled anger. "I don't need to be pushed to do
community service just to get over the fact that there's actual strong villains now. I need to be
stronger, better, and smarter. That's all anyone should care about right now."
Izuku studies the younger boy's face. There's no doubt in his expression. He sighs, releasing some
tension with it. His stomach curls in an uneasy knot. "The first step to getting stronger," Izuku says,
"is to train the mind. You're all but useless if you can level a building with one hit but can't apply
that force in any way. Study older heroes with powers like yours, come up with ideas, test them
out, ask questions, spar with people better than you—that in particular will make you grow."
Izuku checks the clock on the wall. "We'll call it early today. I'll give you time to think. Rest up
and be ready for tomorrow; remember that I'm always here if you need anything."
They all filter out. Some go in groups while others head off on their own. Izuku hops down from
his rack and begins to clean up. He organizes the plates on a few racks and makes sure all the
dumbbells are in the right order before he has to stop. A calm, heavy pair of feet break him out of
his stride. Izuku stands and turns to see Bakugo, the closest the boy has willingly gotten to him
since… since the alley, if he remembers right.
There's so much baggage there that Izuku almost turns him away before anything can begin.
Almost. But he forces himself to calm down, to come at it with an objective mindset. It's what a
good upperclassmen and TA should do, anyway.
"Do you need something?" Izuku asks. Bakugo stares at him for a long while, eyes roaming his
form; sizing him up.
"Fight me."
Izuku snorts. "No," he says, shaking his head.
"You said—"
"I gave advice, that doesn't mean you come to me to enact that advice right away." Izuku shoves
his hands into his pockets. "You're tired, go shower and relax. That's what you—"
"Don't tell me what I need," Bakugo interrupts. There's almost an explosion, and his tone does a
weird shift from furious to mildly abrasive. He squeezes a smoking palm shut. "I'm barely tired at
all. I can go a few rounds. Fight me."
Izuku shakes his head. "No."
"Why?"
"I don't want to."
"Why?"
Izuku closes his eyes and counts to five. It's like dealing with a six year old only worse because a
tantrum from Bakugo might actually break something important. "I have stuff to do," Izuku says
slowly. "I need to work on a project, draw up plans for a patrol, and check over my statement for
Det—"
"You can shove all those things to the side," Bakugo insists, though it feels more like an order. It
grates against Izuku's patience.
"I can't. It's important business—"
"Doesn't matter. You're here to help first years get better, and right now I want you to fight me so I
can see—"
"When are you going to realize that not everything revolves around you?" Izuku snaps. Bakugo
shuts up though it's obvious that Izuku's words are in one ear and out the other. Izuku pushes on
anyway. "I have hero work to do, I'm not going to take time out of my day to teach some spoiled
first year just because he wants some pointers right this instant. You will take any lesson I give
when I want to give it because this—" Izuku points to himself then to Bakugou and then back
again, "—is a two way street.
"You're not the only driven future hero here. You're not the one with top ten potential in your class.
UA doesn't exist just for you. Villains aren't your tools to climb to the top of some stupid
popularity chart. This hero stuff is life and death." Izuku begins to walk away, more than done with
Bakugo. "People have died, are dying, and will die. The last thing the world needs is a hero who
only thinks of himself. When you get that, come find me."
Izuku closes the gym door behind him and takes a few deep breaths. He knows there's probably a
grudge that fueled his rant, but he can't help but think that what he said was true. With a sigh, he
heads down the hall, heading for the day that awaits him whether he's ready or not.
[x]
The bar is the perfect image of a seedy gang hideout. Cigarette smoke hangs in the air, drinks are
poured, and money exchanges hands. Poker and rummy games take up almost every table. A few
TVs show reruns of old movies, and a radio plays abrasive music for all to hear. The patrons are all
wanted, or rather unwanted. Druggies, rejects, and villains all share the same space. It's almost
heartwarming.
"He's here." Tomura looks up from his phone. Kurogiri's golden eyes guide him to the door as it
slowly closes.
"That's him," Tomura says, less a question than an observation. "He looks like he's fresh out of a
burn facility."
"He is powerful," Kurogiri warns.
"Yeah, yeah," Tomura mutters. He stands and heads for one of the back rooms. "I'm going to get
ready. Send him back in a few; I want him to get comfy before I interrogate."
The flat above the bar used to be Tomura's home, back before he was banished. There's still
evidence of his stay though All for One has long since tossed his old possessions. Bits of decayed
wall, clothes that no longer fit, and a busted gaming console that hasn't worked in over a decade.
Tomura ignores all of it and choses to lean against the wall. He rests his eyes.
A few minutes later he hears footsteps coming up the stairs. His eyes open, and he watches as a
young man stops at the top of the staircase. He's relatively tall, skinny as a wisp with solid black
hair. His eyes are a dull blue, and ugly blotches of purple scar tissue cover most of his arms and
face.
"I'm here to join the army."
Tomura cocks his head to the side. "And what would you have to offer us?"
A flash of blue and a wave of blazing heat. Tomura's old console catches fire, burning in unnatural
blue flame. The plastic melts, stinking the room as it bubbles and sending bits of boiling plastic
flying. The man retrieves a flask from his heavy coat and walks over to the fire. Calm as can be, he
pours some form of liquid over the flame, putting them out with a hiss.
"Is that all?"
"I can make enough to burn down a forest in under an hour." The man caps the flask and returns it
to his jacket pocket. "I'm willing to offer up my services."
Tomura looks the man in the eye, trying to see through him. "What's the catch? Do you actually
believe in the cause or do you just want to burn? Someone with a power like that doesn't follow
without a damn good reason."
The man smirks. "I want to take hero society down a peg, and you guys seem to be doing a fair job
of it."
Tomura doesn't reply right away. He thinks for a moment, weighing his options. "How do you feel
about revolution?"
"I think it could be fun."
"I think I have a proposal for you."
They spend an hour hashing out a deal. It's hardly from a sense partnership or for their own mutual
benefit; they're allies, not friends. Yet they have similar goals along with resources the other needs.
The man cannot burn alone, and Tomura is more than eager to direct such firepower.
Yet the more Tomura talks to the man, the more he begins to understand. There's anger there. Not
broad, sweeping rage, but targeted hate, concentrated and primed to blow at just the right moment.
Tomura knows it well. He understands it, the simmering pot of rage deep inside. He sees it every
time he looks in a mirror. Because as much as they both want to see the system crumble, they want
the head of someone very specific on a pike even more.
"So we are in agreement?"
"Yes. You answer to me, and in exchange I'll slow you to attack whomever you wish in your own
spare time. If you're caught, I'm not coming to get you."
"And if you mess everything up, I'll leave just as quickly as I came."
They shake hands. The rough, purple flesh felt alien to Tomura, even through his gloves. The man
still felt decidedly human. His eyes convey emotion no animal ever could, yet there was more.
Thoughts and feelings Tomura can't even begin to unpack. And still they shake.
"Call me Dabi," he says, releasing Tomura's hand.
"Very well, Dabi. How do you feel about Yakuza?"
[x]
It's no surprise that he finds himself back in the weight room. The whole school can't help but
gawk at him, staff and students alike. Those that he normally shared a bright and welcoming smile
with now shy away, like they think something about him has changed. But Izuku still feels the
same. Sure, a few things are more stressful, but he's still himself. No one seems to get it, though.
So he's back at the barbell. From a health and wellness standpoint, he shouldn't be. One can do
multiple workouts in a day, but with how intense Izuku takes his, he definitely needs the rest. Yet
he feels like he doesn't. There's no fatigue where there used to be. No exhaustion or soreness. He
feels perfectly fine and well rested.
That starts to change after an hour. He finds himself a rotation, working through all the different
parts of the body. Shoulders, chest, back, thighs, hamstrings, arms, abs, repeat. The burn feels
good. Like he's earned something. He knows he'll feel fulfilled when he's done, and that only
pushes him harder.
He's on a treadmill when the door opens. Sweat pours off of him as he slowly decreases the speed.
Done with that part of the circuit, he chugs a water bottle and works down to a light jog. The sound
of his feet hitting the platform and the soft hum of the belt going around soothe his racing heart. He
sets the bottle down and slows to a quick walk.
"Are you alright?"
Izuku looks down and to his right. Staring up at him with wide and concerned eyes is Nejire. He
smiles—a real one—and wipes some sweat from his forehead. It doesn't work; he uses his hand
and only gets his face even more gross. "I'm good," he says, stopping the treadmill completely. He
gets off of it and grabs another water bottle. It's gone in a flash.
"Are you sure?"
"Why wouldn't I be?" Izuku asks. He moves to take her hand but thinks better of it. Not when he's
sweaty. Yet Nejire doesn't seem to care and takes it, lacing her fingers with his.
Nejire thinks for a moment. "You seem like you've got a lot on your mind." Her eyes drift over to
his pile of weights and other equipment. It all bears signs of heavy use, especially the heavier
weights. "Are you trying to relax?"
"You could hardly call this relaxing," Izuku says. Nejire squeezes his hand.
"I know you. You're a workaholic, okay?" She leans in but quickly moves back. Her nose wrinkles.
"Can you get a towel or something?" Izuku nods and walks over to where he set his shirt before he
took it off. Beside it is a large white towel. He dabs off his upper body and face while Nejire sits
on a nearby bench. He follows suit.
"I was just working out," Izuku says. "I wouldn't call that workaholic behavior."
"No, but I know you lifted this morning." Nejire leans up against him, cheek touching his. "And I
know you're under a lot of pressure. I figured that you'd want to tire yourself out so you could
actually rest and get a little stronger at the same time, you know?"
"That…" Izuku pauses and looks at the rack beside him. "That's something I would do, but that
wasn't my intention. I… I think I've been dealing with everything quite well, actually. It's just the
face people make when they see me that I don't like."
"Ah. I get it." They sit in silence for a moment. "It's been a while, hasn't it?"
"Sorry," Izuku says instinctively.
Nejire tightens her hold on his waist. "None of that. We both knew this could happen even if we
didn't really discuss it. We're heroes, we were bound to get busy for a while, you especially. I don't
like it but it comes with our lifestyle."
"I'm still sorry. I haven't spent time with you, or… or anyone else I love." Izuku's heart aches just
thinking about it. He misses his friends. He misses his mom. "There's just so much, you know?"
"Yeah. Do you want to talk about it?"
Izuku thinks. "Maybe a little." He pulls her in closer and she drapes a leg across his lap.
"Everyone's looking at me now. Not like they did before, because that was just surface level stuff.
They liked the idea of what I could become. Another good hero who gives his all. But now I feel
like they're studying me. Comparing me to All Might and all the other greats and seeing how I
stack up skill wise. It's like they forgot about Deku the person."
"Hmm." Nejire traces circles in the muscle of his back, giving him goosebumps. "Do you want
them to see Deku the hero or Deku the person?"
"Both. I need to take up All Might's mantle somehow, but I don't want to be unapproachable."
Izuku thinks back to how his mentor first appeared on the world's stage and then compares it to
him at Deternerat. "He was like a god. Still is. You can't just sit down and talk to a god. You can
pray and hope and stuff, but… I want to be like him, but I want to be human , for lack of a better
term."
"You need to take up the mantle?" Nejire asks.
"Yes."
"Why?"
"Well, it's just what I'm meant to do," Izuku says, almost taken aback. "It's what's expected of me.
It's what the world needs. He's not getting younger, you know, and I can't just sit and not do
something to help the world move on when he retires."
"Why does it have to be you?"
Izuku's mouth dries. "I have the power," he says. And he feels so guilty even if it isn't technically a
lie. "I can't just quit and go be a baker somewhere," he says, laughing. "I have to do something
with it, I have to be a hero, I gotta save all the lives I can. It's my duty and my dream."
"You've dreamed of replacing All Might?"

"Dreamed makes it sound wrong. I've been working for it for years now."
"And he's been helping you."
"Him and a lot of others," Izuku confirms. "I'm not eager to do it but I want to be ready. I want to
be strong, but when people keep forgetting that I'm still just a guy…"
"You don't have to be All Might."
"I won't. I'll be Deku."
"That's not…" Nejire sighs. "Duty, dreams, preparation, whatever it is, forget it. Right now,
Midoriya Izuku, do you want to be the next All Might?"
"No. I'm to be his successor."
"'To be,'" Nejire quotes. "Humor me, okay? Imagine that the world isn't all messed up like it is. All
Might is perfectly healthy, never leaves the line of duty, and has years left in him. Are you still
going to be training hard to be just like him?"
"No. I'm not right now, but I'd be taking things slow and trying to see what I wanted to do if things
were like that. I'd probably be doing more with my charity work and outreach. Probably doing less
fighting, too, and learning everything I can about heroics. And spend more time with friends and
family."
"And you're not right now."
"No. I'm focusing on combat. And leadership stuff, too, I guess, but that's not going well."
"Okay." Nejire pulls away. Her hands move to rest on his biceps, and she turns his body to face
hers. He looks him dead in the eye. "Can you tell me why you're here, all juiced up on this so-
called duty of yours instead of doing what you actually want?"
Izuku swallows. Like a coward, he looks away. "I… I don't know."
"Why are you unsure? If you're okay with me asking that."
"It's just complicated." Izuku closes his eyes, trying to figure out how to use his words. "It's a big
secret. A really, really, big secret that, if I'm being honest, explains everything. At least in my life it
does. But it wasn't my secret to start with. I… I don't know."
They sit there for a moment, quiet. Izuku forces himself to think. Does he want Nejire to know?
And that's not even the biggest thing, because he can't just tell Nejire. He'd have to tell Mirio and
Tamaki and his mom. He loves them all, he really does, but sharing that secret with them hadn't
even been a thought in his mind. One for All had always been hidden. It was for him and All
Might. And Gran. And Recovery Girl. And Nedzu. And Nighteye…
All Might had allies in the know. Izuku wonders how long it took him to share his secret. Did he
agonize over it for days or did he just let it slip? Did he feel raw and exposed after or was it a relief
to be open and honest? Izuku doesn't know. He could ask and talk with All Might about it for days,
just listening and taking in advice. But Izuku finds that he doesn't want to. If he's supposed to make
One for All his then he should make it his secret.
"I want to tell you," he decides. "But not just you. Tonight, my place. Can you make sure Tamaki
and Mirio are there?"
"Of course. All you'd have to do is ask."
"Alright," Izuku says, already thinking up a plan. He smiles, already nervous but a little eager too.
"I'm gonna do this."
Chapter End Notes
Going into this section of the story I wasn't sure if Tomura or All for One should be
the main villain. I'm going with Tomura now, for reasons that will be made apparent
later. I'm sure a lot of you could figure out why right now though.
Izuku is starting to struggle with who he wants to be, even if he doesn't really know it.
His world is changing and he doesn't know what to do to keep it on the right track, but
he thinks that All Might's way is the right way. Maybe it is or maybe it's not. That's for
him to figure out, though he sorta gets that a symbol can't stand on its own.
Hope you enjoyed, cheers.

Join the discord: https://discord.gg/hFPsxx9PkN
Coming Clean
Chapter Notes
"We're home."
The TV in the living room flickers off as Izuku and Nejire hang up their backpacks and slip off
their shoes. Izuku's mother hurries through the house as they get rid of their coats, already insisting
that Nejire can stay for dinner.
"It's really no trouble, dear. I always make extra and you know you're always welcome."
Izuku smiles as his mom takes one of Nejire's hands in hers. "I wouldn't mind at all; my dad's been
kinda slacking with dinner for a while. Thank you for inviting me."
"Thank you for accepting. It's always nice to have an extra seat at the table, it just feels so empty
otherwise!"
Izuku loosens the tie of his uniform and unbuttons the top few buttons of his shirt. He lets his
mother and Nejire talk for a little while longer, happy to watch them interact. He digs a few things
out of his backpack while he does. A notebook and a laptop, both of them secured in one way or
another. Seeing them reminds him of what he's about to do, and that starts a new bout of doubt.
"Good to see you too, Mom," Izuku says, teasing just a little. His mom laughs and wraps him up in
a hug.
"Welcome home, Izuku. How was your day?"
"It was alright." They pull away from the hug and head into the kitchen where pots and ingredients
sit out, ready to be cooked. "How was yours?"
"Not bad at all! I went to the library and read for a little while before getting lunch with some
friends and then I got some groceries." She lights the stove and moves over to a countertop to start
chopping vegetables.
"That sounds nice," Izuku says. He looks over at Nejire, who's taken a seat at the kitchen table and
is eyeing his notebook. She looks up at him and tilts her head in a silent question. Instead of
answering her, Izuku turns back to his mom. "Hey, if it's alright, can I have some more friends over
for dinner?"
"Mirio and Tamaki? Of course! I'd love to catch up with them too!"
"Yeah. And one more."
"Sure," she says, agreeing without much thought. "I'll have to really start going to town in the
kitchen, though. You kinda sprang this on me!"
"I can help cook," Izuku says, moving to her side and gently taking the chef's knife from her hands.
His mother laughs.
"Alright. Just change out of your UA garb so it doesn't stain. Those shirts are dry clean only!"
He's wrist deep in dough soon enough, with a fresh t-shirt and casual pants. Nejire has raided his
closet for a long sleeve and a pair of shorts and happily cuts up some vegetables while Izuku's
mom hunts for spices in one of the cabinets.
The whole scene is just so innocently domestic; so warm and fuzzy that it makes Izuku's heart
ache. Because, he realizes, it makes him almost as happy as hero work. It's a near thing. Being a
hero comes with a sort of fulfillment and accomplishment that being part of a family might not
have.
Or it might, but the flavor and scale is different. And it doesn't even matter because when he's with
the people he loves, he can go without that sense of accomplishment for a little while. The stress
and feeling of duty slips right from his fingers into the dough as he kneads it.
"How have the first years been doing?" his mom asks, throwing them into a pleasant round of
small talk. It carries them through the rest of the preparations for the meal, ending once Tamaki
and Mirio knock on the door. They're greeted and let in before they can even apologize for being a
little late.
"We're just getting ready to light the stove," Izuku says. "You're early, if anything. What took you,
patrol?"
"A meeting with our homeroom teachers," Tamaki explains as Izuku leads them into the living
room. "As third years, Mirio and I are being asked to take on bigger roles in our work studies. Hi,
Nejire."
"Ah, that was today, wasn't it?" Nejire says, sitting down on the couch and pulling Izuku down
with her. Tamaki and Mirio sit in a pair of recliners, hands laced together on the end table between
them. "I'll just reschedule. It's nothing we didn't hear at the start of the year, right?"
"Nah, you should be fine. We were told to look for more intensive places of work if we weren't
already seeing a ton of action." Mirio cracks a smile. "I think we're all safe on that front. We did
get to hear about the Big Three candidates, though."
Nejire perks up. "Really? Who?"
"Us and like two other people," Tamaki answers. "They're tough competition but at least one of us
will make it."
"I didn't know there was a process for picking the big three," Izuku says. "I thought it was just a
word of mouth thing; something the student body comes up with on its own."
"Nah, it's one of UA's special traditions." Nejire leans back into the couch cushions, making herself
cozy. "There's even preliminary tests. They made the top ten of our graduating class go through all
sorts of extra junk the first week of school, and I guess only five of us passed."
"Huh." Izuku thinks for a moment. "I guess my grade won't get a big three."
Mirio snorts. "You're more than enough. You could probably mow down the entire third year
heroics class for a second time, but, like, for real and not in a restrictive spar."
"I dunno, you guys are pretty tough." Izuku smiles, wrapping an arm around Nejire's shoulders and
pulling her into his side. "I've seen what you can do, not to mention how much extra work you've
been putting in. Speaking of, what does that look like for you?"
"Probably the same as what you've got," Nejire says. "We've started to focus a lot more on bigger
and badder attacks but we also drill on control for hours. We haven't had a live spar in a while, at
least."
"I've done nothing but fight the entirety of 3-B for weeks," Mirio says. "I'm not like you three, with
those ridiculous, unending powers. So my teacher has been having me do a lot of complex
situations."
"All nineteen of them?" Izuku asks.
"Yep."
"Have you won?"
Mirio smiles even wider. "Yeah. They had to start adding robots from the support department."
"That sounds fun. I haven't really been sparring recently, I just spend so much time on patrol, you
know?"
"Definitely. Have you been doing anything other than training and patrolling?"
"Just my TA stuff. It's a handful."
"Do you like it?" Tamaki asks.
Izuku thinks for a moment. "It's alright. I guess I haven't really sat down and thought about it, but
it's rewarding in its own way."
"Have you thought about teaching later down the line?"
"Ah," Izuku says. "No. I mean, it's been in the back of my mind because there's no way it couldn't
be, but I haven't considered becoming a teacher. I don't know if it would be something I'm good
at."
"You're probably getting good at it right now, away," Nejire says. "It's just one more thing to
learn."
"I guess. It's just hard to imagine myself as a teacher, you know?" Izuku smiles as he thinks of
himself in Aizawa's shoes, or even All Might and Gran Torino's. "I don't think I'd be a good
teacher."
"Why's that?"
Izuku shrugs as he looks at Tamaki. "I'm not sure. It's just a feeling. If I take on a sidekick to
mentor it would be something different, but the whole class is…"
"Daunting," Tamaki finishes.
"Anyway, what have you guys been doing other than hero work?"
"Reading."
"Spending time with my dad."
"Volunteering, mostly."
They talk like that for a while, sipping on tea brewed by Izuku's mother and getting up to set the
table when the time comes. Food is dished up and cups are refilled with tea. All five of them sit
down, Izuku at the head of the table, not by choice but because his mother insists on it. Mirio, ever
eager, begins to dig in.
"Wait," Izuku says, holding up a hand. His eyes focus on the plate directly across from him. It sits,
steaming but with no one to claim it as their own. "We need one more."
"Honey, I don't think—"
A knock comes from the door. Izuku calmly stands and walks through the house. He returns to the
dining room, Aizawa in tow, and sits back down. His teacher sighs and sits, clearly worn from a
day of hard work. "I apologize for my tardiness, I let the time get away from me." He bows his
head before lifting a cup of tea to his lips. "Thank you for the meal."
Dinner is heavy. There's a careful air around them all, one that makes them irk away from eye
contact and conversation. The silence isn't awkward, though there is discomfort. Izuku tries to
come up with a way to get the ball rolling but every one of his ideas has a glaring flaw. It doesn't
help that Aizawa seems intent on staring a hole into Izuku's face from across the table.
"I'll get started on the washing."
"Let them soak for a while," Izuku says to his mother. He helps clear the table and set the food
aside to cool. "I… there's something I need to talk about."
"What is it?" Nejire asks. Izuku closes his eyes.
"Everything. I'm… well, I'm hardly normal, I'm sure you've all noticed. I have a secret, one that
can explain everything, but it's just so." He stops and takes a deep breath.
"Is it your Quirk?" Aizawa asks.
"Yes." Izuku sits back down at the table, guiding his mom to take the seat to his right at the same
time. "I guess I should start from the beginning. Well, my beginning at least.
"I was born Quirkless."
"Aren't we all?" Mirio asks.
"Yes, but I have the biology of a Quirkless person." Izuku wiggles his toes even though no one can
see them. "I've got an extra toe joint none of you have, I have a set of molars that are too big for my
mouth, and I can roll my tongue into a circle. According to every single expert alive, I shouldn't
have a Quirk. But I do."
"I thought—"
"I lied," Izuku says, interrupting his mother. "I'm sorry, but I'm a liar. I didn't have a freak accident
that gave me my power. I didn't have a traumatic activation. It was given to me willingly because I
distinguished myself; passed down by my predecessor like the Olympic torch."
"By All for One."
Izuku shakes his head. "No. By All Might."
"What." It's the first time Izuku's seen Aizawa look taken aback. The man's eyebrows are just a
touch closer to his hairline and his eyes are hard with focus.
"In hindsight it makes sense." Tamaki looks Izuku in the eye, much more accepting but still
unsure. "You're close with him and before you got those crazy whips you two had very similar
powers. Minus the flight"
"But how?" Mirio asks. He laughs a little. "Y-you can't take and give away Quirks all willy-nilly.
They're part of you, it'd be like giving someone else your arm."
Izuku takes a deep breath. "But you can." He reaches over and takes his mother's hand. "This isn't a
pretty story. It's not one that I can tell lightly, and it's one that, before today, only a handful of
people knew. But I love and care for you all, and I need to come clean. That's why I called you
here today."
"Alright." Nejire swirls her cup of tea around, looking at Izuku as though she's trying to solve a
puzzle. "I feel like you're about to tell us something completely unbelievable but I'll listen, because
nothing about you is ordinary."
Izuku forces a snort before collecting his thoughts. "You can't take and give Quirks, Mirio. As far
as I know, only two people alive can give them, and one of those can take them, too." He looks
down at his free hand and imagines it as All for One's. "Did your parents or anyone else ever tell
you the story of the Quirk Snatcher?"
"Yes, but—"
"He's real," Aizawa grunts. "It's an open secret if you run in the right circles. By the time I knew he
was presumed dead by All Might's hand, but yes. The boogeyman is very real and likes to wear silk
pocket squares."
Izuku cracks a smile as his friends grow uncomfortable in their chairs. "It's not a fun thing to think
about, is it? I reacted much worse when we discovered that he didn't die. But that was months ago,
and my story starts two hundred years back."
"Two hundred…" Tamaki says, almost mouthing the words with how quiet he speaks. Izuku nods.
"Two hundred. Not the first generation of Quirked people, but close to it. In those days there were
two brothers. All for One, the Quirk Snatcher, and Yochi."
"Are you related?"
"Not exactly." Izuku's expression sours as his thoughts briefly turn to his father. "Not by blood.
Yochi was though; he was All for One's younger brother. They were close, but All for One was a
rising tyrant. He stole and manipulated his way into being a crime lord, his brother attempting to
stop him all the while."
"Did… did it work? At all?" Mirio asks.
"No." Izuku's eyes move down to look at the tablecloth. "Yochi was younger and in poor health.
Frial, too. He couldn't hold a candle to his brother with all his Quirks when he himself was
Quirkless. However, either out of love or desire to have his brother under his thrall, All for One
forced a Quirk unto Yochi.
"Stockpile." Izuku let a hand crackle to live. The green lighting danced for just a moment before
disappearing into the air. "I was nothing special on its own. As far as we can tell it only allowed
the user to build up power in their body and use it to enhance their physical abilities. Alone it was
near useless. But Yochi wasn't Quirkless.
"As it turns out, he had the power to pass down Quirks. So his ability merged with Stockpile and
became One for All." Izuku rests a hand on his chest as his friends and family look at him in a mix
of wonder and disbelief.
"You're a time traveler."
Izuku's mother bursts into tears. "I'm not a time traveler! I'm getting to the part where I get One for
All!" he says as he tries to comfort his mom. Across the table, Mirio cringes.
"My bad. I just… this is all so much, I couldn't bottle it up."
"It's fine," Izuku says, taking both his mother's hands as she slowly regains her composure. "I'm not
a time traveler. I was born sixteen years ago to my mother as a Quirkless baby. There's no time
travel."
"So are you possessed?"
"No."
"Then how…"
"Yochi's ability to pass down Quirks is what did it." Izuku looks his mother in the eye as she dabs
her face with a hankey. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine, Izuku. You can keep talking. This is just so much at once."
"Knowing that his legacy was secured by someone he trusted, Yochi challenged his brother." Izuku
remembers the pain of that confrontation, even if he wasn't a thought in anyone's mind at the time.
"He was struck down by All for One."
"And the second user?" Aizawa asks.
"The same, but she passed it on as well. Her successor met the same fate, as did his, as did his, as
did his, as did his, as did his. Then came the Eighth."
"You're the only one who's lived," Tamaki says, voice heavy.
"Not quite. Eight was chosen just as the rest, but after his master fell he fled the country. For years
he trained in America, honing his power to take on All for One and bring an end to his evils."
"All Might," Aizawa says simply. "Eight is All Might, and he's your master."
"Yes." Izuku sits back in his chair. "That's why he left all those years ago, and that's why he came
back. He challenged All for One in his prime. Their battle was a draw."
"Good god." Nejire shakes her head in disbelief. "I… I've talked with people who saw him fight
back then. Heroes who were considered the best to ever live were nothing compared to him. And a
villain…"
"Hundreds of years of cunning and stolen Quirks will do that."
"No kidding."
"Where is he now?" Tamaki asks. Izuku shrugs.
"Out there, scheming. All Might lost half his organs in that fight, and All for One lost his entire
face and can't use his Quirks like he used to. Both aren't in any shape to fight each other."
"But you can."
Izuku meets Aizawa's gaze. "Yes. I am to fight All for One and win, All Might at my side. We'll
get rid of him for good, and afterwards I'll make my way into the world, hopefully becoming the
next symbol."
"This is all crazy."
"Believe me, I know. This has been my life for over a year, and some nights even I feel like it
could all be a dream. Or a nightmare. But it's real, and it's a scary reality. It's why I need your help,
your support. And it goes two ways, too," Izuku adds. "If you have questions or need anything at
all, ask. I'll try my best to give you what you're asking for."
"I need time to process. I'll help you!" Mirio quickly adds. "You're my friend and this is all super
important stuff. But I really need time to think and get this all straight in my mind."
"That's fine."
"I have questions," Nejire says. "So many questions. But I'm in."
"Same."
"You have to have notes on all of this." Izuku looks to Aizawa who appears deep in thought at his
end of the table. "May I look?"
"Of course. Mom?"
His mother takes a deep, labored breath. "I only wish you told me sooner."
"You're not…"
"I am. I'm terrified and shocked and a little mad that you've kept this from me." She grabs his
shoulder with a hand and gives it a squeeze. "But I am your mother. I've been telling myself since
before you were born that I would love and support you know matter what, and I intend to do so. I
may not be a hero, but I'll always be here when you need me."
Izuku smiles and takes his mother in a hug. "That's all I would ever ask of you."
[x]
"And you're absolutely sure this is feasible?"
The tank of liquid bubbles inside the bulletproof glass, an acrid green of volatile sludge nearing its
boiling point as the subject inside holds perfectly still. The dim lighting of the lab hides the true
nature of the experiment, but the tables and monitors give it all away. Feeding tubes run along the
walls and a handful of robots tend to other subjects. But this one is much more special.
"Doctor."
The doctor jumps in surprise and straightens his glasses. "I gave faith that there will be results," he
says. "Twice and I have been working for months now, and we've made steady progress. It's just a
matter of fine tuning the details."
"I see." All for One lays a hand on the tank and peers inside. "It hardly looks alive."
"But it is," the doctor says, pride seeping into his tone. "I've nurtured it from conception, exposing
the cells to wear gradually while ensuring that it doesn't sustain enough damage to break down
completely. This is by far the oldest sample, with the next few being days behind."
"Forgive me, but I know how fragile those clones are. They may last indefinitely, and that
reinforcing agent you make is ingenious, but something on this scale feels out of reach in this short
span of time."
"All you need to do is watch, my lord." The doctor walks over to his control module and flips a
switch. A light flips on inside the tank. "The subject is in perfect medical condition at the moment.
No ailments or injury, not even the wear needed to induce new tissue growth. When given the
prompt, the subject will begin to produce the rewind compound."
"Then do it."
The doctor immediately commences the process. His confidence is well earned and welcomed, but
All for One watches the tank begin to vibrate with multiple reservations. But nonetheless he can't
fight off his interest as the subject in the tank glows a soft white, tinted green by the liquid. The
tubes and wires attached to it begin to pulse, gentle as to not trigger a breakdown. Something
moves from the subject to the tube and to a vial on the other end. And then the subject melts into
goop.
"Doctor," All for One warns.
"My lord, the harvest was successful." The doctor gets up from his chair and hurries over to the
sealed vial. He pulls it from the machine and flounders over to All for One, eager to prove himself
correct. "We've done it! We've replicated the rewind compound!"
All for One takes the vial. He examines it, using a dozen or so of the taxing mental Quirks needed
to truly understand what it is. Then he shakes it violently. The doctor stiffens as the substance
inside turns into the same sludge Twice's clones do after they've been hit. "Close, but no cigar."
"It would have been fine had you not killed it."
All for One tosses the vial to the side. It lands and shatters into a million pieces. "That was enough
to rewind an insect for two hours. To rewind an organism as complex as a human, not even a
human with as many Quirks and I, there will need to be gallons of that, and it will need to be
refined and combined. Those are not gentle processes, doctor. I need this to be able to take a
beating."
"Understood." The doctor walks over to another set of tanks. "I'll call Ba—"
"Twice will remain where he is." All for One moves behind the doctor to look over his shoulder
and into the tank. "I will arrange the next set of clones to harvest from and he will be none the
wiser. He'll blab to everyone else if he's involved, I'd rather that not happen."
"Very well. I'll wait here and work on my other projects."
"How has the original been holding up?"
"She's stabilized. No sign of regrowth, but she's not dying anymore. I wish we hadn't ruined the
original."
"It couldn't be helped." All for One looks over to the tank in front of the far wall. "She is the
exception to nearly every rule of Quirk biology you wrote in those books of yours; we could not
have predicted the outcome."
"Yes. However I was still set years back in my projects."
"It doesn't matter. What really matters is upping production of the Nomu. I want you to spend most
of your time on making a better reinforcing agent."
"My lord?"
All for One raps his knuckles against his respirator. "I am weaker than some of my pets, doctor. I
will not last in a fight against my enemies, but my army can. That is what matters. We must ensure
that we can create an army of high end Nomu with what little resources we have left, or else the
ninth will cut a path of blood through all we've worked to build."
"But restoring your body is the most important project of all!"
"No. Winning is." All for One chuckles. "Besides, Eri isn't our only hope. I have contingencies,
doctor. Overhaul is being hunted, and my successor is growing in power every day. A young body
and an armory of rewinding bullets are tertiary goals."
"You can't possibly be considering the old plan."
"I am, and I personally find it to be promising. But that is for another day. Right now I have an
army to train and beasts to feed. I expect another test in two weeks' time, and it better be more
impressive than today's."
"Yes, Lord."
All for One leaves through a haze of purple mist. The residual smoke curls around the machinery
of the lab, cooling the air even more. It lingers around one particular corner, darkening the farthest
edge of the facility where a pair of tanks rest, nearly forgotten. One holds a small girl with enough
tubes sticking out of her to sustain her every need. The other is empty and the perfect size for a
young man.
The girl is young. Bits of her horn float around her, shattered. Her twin sleeps a few kilometers
away, unknowing. The tank for the man hums slowly, empty but in a hungry way. Desolate it may
seem, it is ready to feed. The doctor only wishes there was a way to avoid the feast.
Chapter End Notes
I have a whole document detailing what exactly All for One and his doctor are
planing, so the foreshadowing here should make sense later with the pay off. Also
school sucks, I already want to graduate. It's just so annoying to get out of bed in the
mornings but I'm getting through it. Thanks and see you in the next one. Cheers.
Discord:
All for Them
Chapter Notes
"I told them."
"Took you long enough."
Izuku cocks his head to the side in surprise. Across from him, Toshinori smiles and sips his cup of
tea. "I thought you'd be mad. No, not mad, but I definitely expected a warning or some kind of
cautionary tale."
Toshinori shakes his head. "My boy, you told those three, right?"
"My mom and Aizawa, too."
"I couldn't be prouder."
"What?"
"It took me years to admit I needed help." Toshinori sets his cup down and pours more tea. "I was
stubborn and bull headed. I learned from Nana and Sorahiko, and that was all I needed. But I was
wrong. I had brawn but little brains or connections. I knew nothing about how my own power
operated, or how All for One's own ability worked. I needed others to cover my bases."
"That's why you took on Nighteye."
"More than that. My first pick was Chiyo. Recovery Girl was always a little suspicious of me
during my UA days, but she wasn't head nurse then, so I always played it off." His eyes shine in
memory. "Not well, but I didn't get caught. I approached her a year or so after my return. She put
me on to Nedzu, who put me on to Tsukauchi, who put me on to Nighteye. The rest is history."
"Did you ever regret it?"
"No. I was unsure for a time, but they soon showed me that I made the right decision." Toshinori
offers Izuku more tea, pouring more as the younger man lowers his cup. "My only regret is drifting
away from them after the battle. And that I failed to show Nighteye how amazing you are."
"Have you contacted him at all since? Other than that meeting."
"I've tried." Toshinori's broad shoulders sag. "He's difficult. I don't see us having a civil discussion
on our own, we're simply too strong willed."
"He still doesn't think I'm good enough."
"I wouldn't let it get to you." Toshinori sips his tea. "Perhaps in the beginning he was correct. You
were so young and fresh; and I was a little hasty in selecting you. But you've proven yourself time
and time again, both as a hero, and as a warrior."
"That's all that matters, then."
"I'm glad you've accepted that. Did your friends take it well?"
"Pretty well, all things considered." Izuku looks down at his hands. "There was some doubt—I
would have been surprised if there wasn't—but they understood it and offered to help me in my
journey."
"Is that what you wanted?"
"I would never force them to help me with something so dangerous. But, yes," Izuku admits. "I
wanted their help. Their support. I'm nothing without people in my corner to support me, to help
me see things I might miss or to pick me up if I fall. What good is a rotten symbol?"
Toshinori smiles bitterly. "I'm glad you've learned from my mistakes."
"Me too."
They sit for a little while longer, drinking tea and enjoying the view offered by the window to the
office. They beat the sun to campus, and welcome it as natural light begins to pour in, warming
them more than the tea ever could.
"Why the festival?"
Toshinori smiles. "I consider my debut to be my first Sports Festival way back in the day. Same for
you, I suppose. It's the first thing people can easily look back on and see my starting point. Perhaps
an old headline of me and my recklessness could be dug up, but in that old film you can see me. My
eyes, my emotion, my smile. It's all there."
"So it's a sentimental thing."
"Mostly." Toshinori's smile drops a little. "I am also worried. After the attack on Detnerat it's clear
that the next move will come soon. Unfortunately our side is stagnant; we have little information to
work with and heroes are fractured into their own cliques."
"You think they're going to target the festival."
"I think it's a strong possibility." Izuku can't help but agree as Toshinori sips on his tea. "I can
come up with all sorts of awful possibilities, each of them more horrible for this country than the
last. But my real fear is them hitting the Festival and killing the comparators."
Izuku twitches. "That can only end poorly. If they tried to kill heroes in training—especially UA's
—they'd have a whole legion of pros ready to pay it back tenfold. We'd rally—the world would
rally."
"That's a Nedzu line of thinking." Toshinori looks out the window sadly. "It's not wrong, but think
of what it would do to the next generation. We'd have millions, maybe billions of young people
who would grow up knowing that heroes can't always protect them. Because if we can't protect our
own then why should they trust us?"
"I don't think even All for One and his armies can stand against all the world's heroes for long."
"The aftermath is what matters, Izuku." Toshinori sets down his cup. "My life's work has not been
to vanquish all evil, though my quest to kill All for One may make it seem as though it is. For
decades I have been doing my best and encouraging others to do the same, not to remove the bad,
but to break its grip on us.
"To make a world where everyone can smile in peace. That is what I want, and that cannot happen
if the Sports Festival is hit and we are not there, fighting together."
"Then why not debut early? It could stave off this hypothetical attack."
"All for One would split us up." Toshinori's voice grows heavy with distaste. "He is cunning
beyond all belief, you know this. If I even show myself for one sliver of a second, he will rip us
apart. There will be a shipwreck, or a prison break, or even a typhoon. I wouldn't put it past him.
He would take you or I away, and leave the other to fail against his beasts."
"You're right." Izuku folds his hands in his lap, trying to ignore how his heart begins to pick up.
"But there's so much more that can go wrong. Your idea is the safest option we have, but he has to
realize that. We're the biggest hitters he has to worry about right?"
"Endeavor is no slouch, but I do not think he can stand against whatever All for One is hiding."
"Exactly. If he has the resources, he should pin us in one spot, sacrifice whatever he needs to do so,
and hit somewhere else as hard as he can. Maybe Tartarus, or the capital, or another school."
"You are wise beyond your years," Toshinori says. "I know you will make great use of it. But you
are searching for the perfect option, the one where we win unconditionally and no one gets hurt. I
lost half my organs trying to do the same."
"We have to try."
"We will. I refuse to let him get the upper hand on us, especially when I am so close to full health.
Nedzu and I have been in contact with government officials, military leaders, heroes, and school
principals. They all know something is coming and they will gear up."
"But we'll be here when it comes." Izuku can't help the sliver of distaste that comes to his mind.
"If you were All for One, how would you plan something like this?"
Izuku thinks for a moment. The thoughts that go through his mind make his heart heavy. "My end
goal is to kill the two of us. I assume that we will both be at the festival with you in good health. If
you are not, then I can quickly send in reinforcements to kill me off. If you are, I keep just enough
there to keep us from moving. Meanwhile I tear through other parts of the country
"I might not have enough resources to actually do much outside of the festival, but I can get others
to do that for me. They'll see the carnage and use it as a distraction, especially if I lead by example.
By the time the festival is settled, half the country is in flames and we're exhausted. Then…"
"What?"
"I don't know," Izuku says. "Again, the goal is to separate you and I so he can kill us himself one at
a time, but I'm not sure how he'd do that. I don't know how many of those beasts he has, or how
many power villains he can muster into a unit strong enough to call us over. He'd need to group,
too. And they'd need to be hitting something vytal. Or he could just show himself, but that would
draw both of us."
"Not if something important was at risk," Toshinori says.
"What would you be unwilling to give up to kill All for One?" Izuku asks. "I know what I'm
willing to sacrifice, and I think it's much less than what you are."
Toshinori closes his eyes. "I needed that. He has a grip on me still, one that I'm afraid he knows
exactly how to use."
"So he'd draw you away from me in the heat of it all. Or maybe he wouldn't have to. Maybe we
would be in the same area but not side by side, and all he would need to do is whisper in one of our
ears. And he'd pull a single thread to unwind everything you've worked to build."
Toshinori sits in silence and Izuku joins him. It's an ugly silence, one that's been felt in war rooms
and offices for centuries. The tea goes cold and the sun rises high. They ponder for far too long,
running in logical circles in an attempt to find a way through the web of lies All for One has
managed to weave.
"We stick together," Toshinori finally decides. "To the best of our ability. We are a package deal
until I die, agree?"
With a heavy heart, Izuku nods. "He won't make it easy."
"You give him too much credit," Toshinori jokes, though it comes off humorless. "He probably
wasted half his resources at Detnerat."
Izuku smiles bitterly. "Probably."
[x]
"I-I'm not supposed to do this!"
"Shut up."
"Really! We'll both be killed!"
"Shut up."
"If you make me take one more step to that door, I'm gonna take my fist and shove it up—"
"I'm doing this for Sensei." Those words, hissed through teeth into Twice's ear, are enough to end
the resistance. The man quiets and follows, nervously looking around at the halls as though he's
never been in them before.
"What are you—"
"Shut." Tomura turns a corner and stops at the first door. "Open it."
"Y—"
"I'm not trusted." Twice keeps his mouth shut but it does little to hide his questions. He pulls out a
small key and slots it into the doorknob. It opens with a soft click, followed by the sound of
squeaky hinges. "You know what to do."
Tomura watches as Twice sneaks up on the bed and kneels beside it, stone faces even as his blood
heats in excitement. "Himiko?"
"Shhh," Twice whispers. "Just me. Can to check on you, yeah? Some of the guys got rowdy down
the hall and I wanted to make sure you didn't get scared."
"Didn't hear nun."
"Good. Water?"
"Nuh uh."
"Mmkay. Back to bed then."
"Night."
Twice waits a few moments before gently touching her forehead. In a matter of seconds, an
entirely new body is formed in his hands, cradled to his chest. Twice backs out of the roof with the
lightness of a thief. Shigaraki closes the door behind him, careful to not make a sound. "And you're
sure a clone of a clone has the same durability?"
"You're not going to hurt her."
"It's a clone," Tomura says. "It doesn't matter. And you know what they did to the original. What
they did because you can make them however many more they need."
Twice holds the girl tighter to his chest, not flinching even as her horn digs in to him. "She won't
be hurt unless absolutely necessary."
"Fine," Tomura lies. "I won't hurt her. She'll be perfectly safe all night."
"Hmph." Twice dumps the clone of Eri into Tomura's arms and storms off, shoulder checking him
on the way out for good measure.
Tomura nearly drops the clone, only just holding on to her with the tips of his fingers, careful to
keep the pinkies away. He curses and sets her down. He slips a pair of light, black gloves on before
picking her back up and heading back from where he came. Even villains need to sleep, and the
halls are empty at this hour, deprived of what little life they hold while All for One schemes and
keeps his minions on standby.
"Got her." Tomura doesn't have to say anything as he enters his private chamber but his allies
inside visibly relax at the sound of his voice.
"Will he talk?"
Tomura shrugs. "I don't care. I haven't laid a hand on the original, not that I could, but as long as
I'm not hurting the real Eri he shouldn't say anything. There's even a chance Sensei thinks I don't
know about his little science project."
"Tonight then?"
"Yes," Tomura says, gently handing Eri off to the first set of hands that offer. He takes in his
troops, searching for any sign of fatigue or nerves. "Does anyone object?" None speak. "Very well.
Let's get a move on before they all wake."
Sneaking out is child's play. The few others up so late into the night don't look twice, and Tomura's
party makes its way out of the lair and into the streets above. They quickly break off and board
separate trains. Tomura hails a cab and rides with Eri and one of his most trusted allies. In less than
an hour they're all at their destination, ready for anything.
"Dead or alive?"
Tomura watches the shack of a building across the street with dead eyes. "I don't know." He toys
with his gloves, feeling the cheap fabric between his fingers, visualizing how easily it would
crumble. His hands itch to destroy. They curl with rage and power, ready to slam into the ground
and reduce it to ashes.
"All for One can't be bargained with."
"I know." Tomura looks down at the sleeping form of Eri curled up in a makeshift blanket of coats.
Even buried in fabric she shivers in the cold, eyes squeezed shut in pain. She mumbled in her sleep,
plagued by a nightmare Tomura couldn't imagine. "But he can be hurt, and he can be manipulated
right back by someone smart enough to do it."
"Is that you?"
Tomura takes a deep breath. "No. I'm not some cruel and philosophical intellectual who can take
the hand I've been dealt and win the pot. But I can burn the table, and I can set my enemies on each
other's throats instead of mine."
"Dead?"
"Dead. And make it hurt."
The dozen of them sneak up on the shack and enter without any preamble. Only one guard keeps
watch, but he's quickly killed without a sound. Tomura joins his allies in scouring the structure for
any sign of secrets, taking care to not alert anyone next door. Or below.
"Here." Someone gently raps their knuckles on a section of wall. A hollow tap rings through the
shack, drawing them all in to investigate. Tomura makes his way to the front and prods at the wall.
He reduces it to ashes with a touch from his palm.
"Give me the girl." Eri is placed in his hands. Tomura sizes up the crawlspace, making note of its
size: just barely big enough for a man to walk through, and short enough that he'd have to hunch.
He clutches Eri to his chest and slips in, paying no mind to the dark as his allies trail behind.
It's a short walk to the other end of the tunnel. It's made even shorter when the walls abruptly shift,
killing any trace of light from the outside and covering everyone inside in a thick layer of dust.
Tomura coughs and Eri wakes. The men and women behind them stop walking, unsure of how to
proceed in the pitch black.
"Wh—"
"Shh," Tomura hisses. "Everything's fine. Keep your head down and your eyes shut."
Eri squirms in his grip but doesn't try to get away. Tomura tries in vain to look around, but the dark
is completely oppressive. Grudgingly he extends a hand, feeling for a walk or barrier. His fingers
touch something cold just in front of him. It crumbles soon enough, and light pours through the
crack.
Something heavy flies through the air. Tomura ducks, narrowly avoiding the projectile as it rips
through the air. The man right behind him isn't so lucky. He collapses with a groan of pain and a
gurgle of blood. Staying low, Tomura inches forwards, closer to the crack. He doesn't dare peek
through.
"Ten of them."
"Does anyone have a clean shot?"
"Not without risking another casualty."
"So much for the element of surprise." Tomura leans against the wall and tries to think. The shots
on the other side hardly help, and the whimpering of Eri is hardly any better.
"We have the girl," he calls. It sends a stir through the people on the other side. Tomura's own
silence themselves and try to get as far away from the hole as they can. Eri choses that moment to
stop crying.
"Liar."
"Not today." Tomura stands, Eri clutched to his chest, her unmistakable white hair and red eyes
catching the eyes of everyone present, Overhaul most of all. He stands behind his men, coat in
tatters and mask covered in soot.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?"
Tomura meets his eyes, matching his intense glare. "Observing a set of museum pieces," he says,
stepping over the low wall that separates the corridor from the Yakuza's chamber. The other
villians twitch but hold still. Overhaul's gaze turns to Tomura's hands. He scoffs.
"And you look like you belong in a trash heap. Tell me what you want for the girl and I'll give it to
you."
"Not going to take her from me?" Tomura sets Eri down, holding one of her hands with his thumb
and index finger. "I thought that Shie Hassaikai we're one of the strongest gangs in the country."
"The girl. Now. Before things get ugly."
"Why haven't they?" Tomura prods. "You're strong, Overhaul. I nearly fought me and that hero
boy the last time we met, and you got away. Surely I should be dead by now."
Overhaul scowls. "You're that punk All for One sent. The gaul of you to come here and mock me
for being a relic."
Tomura moves his hand from Eri's to the crown of her head. Four fingers rest, wet with tears and
sweat and grimy with dust. "I'm no relic."
"Yet you lick the boots of one."
"Not anymore." Tomura inches forwards, keeping a firm grip on Eri's head. "Do you have any idea
why I was told to take her from you?"
"All for One wants to live forever. He can't do that with a bashed in face."
"Exactly." Tomura takes a few more bold steps. The Yakuza members prepare to fight, but
Overhaul raises a hand. The freeze, a mix of fear and reassurance in their eyes as he takes off one
of his gloves. "This is his miracle. His cure all. His ticket to being unstoppable. Because no one
can stand against a prime All for One. And I come offering it to you."
"You'd backstab your master."
Tomura can't help but grin. "He backstabbed me first. Cast me aside like trash and replaced me.
Even when I came back stronger than ever and with a small army I was still just an errand boy. No
longer. She's yours, all you have to do is agree to one thing." Tomura takes another step forward.
"What?" The other glove comes off. Eri tries to bolt but Tomura snatches her arm up.
"No kings," he says. "No emperors, no presidents, no gods. You help me kill our three gods and I
will give you everything you need to get your little gang back."
"No kings?" Overhaul pauses. He looks down at Eri, who's only two meters away. "Is that your
motive? Anarchy?"
"All power to One man is foolish," Tomura declares.
"Then I'm afraid we don't have a deal."
"Understandable, given the circumstances." Tomura's pinky descends on Eri's bare arm. "Not that I
expected you to agree in the first place."
Overhaul's hands slam into the ground but Tomura is quicker. He hurls Eri directly at his chest
with enough force to send him stumbling. Stalagmites burst from the ground half formed, nearly
penetrating Tomura's rib cage. The younger man dives forwards as Overhaul tries to stop the
effects of Decay. The effort is all for nothing.
Eri half crumbles and half melts in Overhaul's arms, and in the chaos of it all Tomura grabs hold of
the other man's arms. He squeezes as hard as he can. He squeezes even as he feels something hit
him in the back, gripping until he hears a crack. The fear in Overhaul's eyes is palpable, and the
shock is delicious. Tomura tastes victory even as he starts to bleed.
The next moments are a fever dream. Flashes of blood and gore along with screams and death
overload his senses, and soon Tomura is on his back in the grass as the sun rises. He smells the
ocean, along with the stink of blood and grime.
"I did it."
"We did it."
Tomura nods, uncaring for who corrected him. "Yes, we. One less pest to deal with."
"Two more," someone says. "Three, counting the original girl. All Might and All for One will be
impossible to kill if she's around."
"They won't go down easily, even if we kill her. They're gods among men, Deku, too. We have to
be careful." Tomura's words stifle the joy out of their victory, but they ring true. "They have to be
bled to death. Slowly. Painfully. Demolished brick by brick and rotted from the inside out. All
Might will go easily, and All for One will crumple after relishing in his victory."
"And Deku?"
Tomura glares up at the night sky. "There's no beating Deku with All for One dead."
[x]
"You know how much I don't like this."
"I don't like it either, but we need to be strong considering what's to come."
"What might be to come."
"You know how little doubt there is." Izuku and Aizawa walk down the stairs from the pressbox of
the stadium, the noise of the crowd a dull buzz through the thick heavy walls. Like everything UA
owns, it was reinforced after the events of Detnerat, reforged over the course of three months by
Cementoss and other construction type heroes.
"I still think we should have called this whole thing off," Aizawa says. "There's no need to give
them this good of a target, especially when there's children present."
"Nedzu thinks they might go for the third year tournament, just to flex their muscles a little bit
more."
"If I were them I'd want to cause the most damage to our spirit, and to UA's reputation." Izuku nods
as Aizawa polishes his goggles on his capture scarf. "Get in, kill as many as possible, try to make
an example out of you and All Might, and get the hell out."
"All for One doesn't necessarily want to be perfectly efficient," Izuku says. "It all depends on his
resources."
"That's what I'm worried about. It's up to him how bloody this gets." They come to the end of the
flight of stairs and walk through a door towards the locker rooms. "They may have made this place
an above ground bunker, and the evacuation plan might be airtight, but those stands are death traps.
And the stage will make a chaotic battlefield."
"I know." Izuku takes a few deep breaths. "We should have called it off. I'm so—"
"It's not your fault, Midoriya," Aizawa says sharply. "You're 17. Next symbol of no, you're not the
king of it all. If anything, blame the government, who pushed us to keep this on. Blame UA's
board, too, but not yourself. They're the ones who chummed the water and threw our kids in the
deep end."
Izuku smiles. "'Our kids'?"
"I can't call 'em mine when you and Yagi have them eating out of the palms of your hands."
"You're such a softy," Izuku says with a laugh.
"It's why I worry."
They walk the rest of the way in silence, breaking off after a little while to attend to separate duties.
As Izuku approaches the door to the first years' locker room, his gut tightens up. He stands outside
the door for a moment, unable to move. Part of him wants to walk in there, scoop all of them up
and fly away, ruining the entire festival for all of them, and the viewers. It would at least keep
them from the battle.
Maybe they'd hate him for it. He knows he would; if All Might or Aizawa just took him from his
place in the name of safety. Or maybe they'd be grateful if he explained himself. Or maybe some
would think he's looking down on them, thinking they're not ready for what they think is a little
scrap, or for what the real world is like.
It would be worth it, Izuku decides. Whatever hate he got from them or the world would be worth it
as long as they're alive and safe. But he can't. All the pieces are already in place. Him, All Might,
the other heroes, the crowd; if he left with them, people could still die. Perhaps All for One would
capitalize on his absence and start early and kill thousands in the chaos.
So as much as Izuku wants to leave with them all, he doesn't. Instead he steels himself, mentally
preparing himself for what he'll have to do. He only hopes he'll be strong enough to do it.
Chapter End Notes

I feel like I've started at lot of these by saying it's been a while. It has, but it's gotten
repetitive. I'd apologize, but if I'm being honest the stuff I was doing other than writing
were more important. I also got me a touch of that depression thing but that's neither
here nor there. What's important is that I've picked my collage, gotten some
scholarship money, and I've been busy preparing for college because my major isn't
something I can just half ass until I get through my gen eds. I still love writing and I'd
ever abandon my works.
Next one is probably gonna be heavy but you probably already know that. Cheers.
Please drop by the archive and comment to let the author know if you enjoyed their work!

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Midoriya, Plus Three-Sixty-Five

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/27679802.

Midoriya, Plus Three-Sixty-Five

Starts pre-canon, gets there eventually. Contains manga spoilers.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

But he couldn't. He never could.

It's just a shame that he'd be fried by the villain.

"No, not at all."

"There's no way that Toxic Chainsaw or Purifier did that."

"How bad is it...?" Midoriya asks.

Midoriya sucks in a long breath. "That's—"

"My power is yours to inherit."

"Yes!" Midoriya answered immediately. He stood up. "I'll be your successor!"

"Yes, sir!" Midoriya answered.

"Good. Now run home, I don't want your parents to be worried.

Chapter End Notes

850 people have read this. *850*

See the end of the chapter for more notes

But Midoriya was a teenager.

It's exactly as he remembers it being back in his youth.

"I… I did it!" The boy laughs, nearly collapsing.

"I'm so skinny..." Midoriya says in amazement.

"Eat, eat, eat!"

"Uh, a little. My stomach's all floaty and weightless…"

"Remember to clench your butt!"

The fridge starts to fall, and Midoriya moves.

"You let that happen to your successor!?"

"I didn't just let it hap—"

"Oh, so he's a cross between you and Nighteye, even better."

"Greetings! I am Nedzu, Principal of UA High. Am I a rat, a dog, or a bear? Who knows!"

"What!?" Midoriya cries, rubbing his legs rapidly.

Chapter End Notes

Anyways, thanks for any feedback and cheers!

See the end of the chapter for more notes

Midoriya nods, determined. "I promise I'll keep working hard!"

"That's what I like to hear! Now, hit me!"

"Real fights don't have starting guns," All Might says.

"So is that a n—"

"Uh, hello. Is this Sorahiko?"

There's a pause. "Who is this?"

"It's All Might."

"Yes! It's me!"

"I've found my successor, and I need your help."

"... Fine. But the brat better be worth it!"

"Just how scary is this guy?" he half mutters.

"Yes. And… good luck, kid. Gran takes no prisoners."

"Toshinori?" Gran Torino asks.

"Midoriya," the boy corrects.

"Toshinori, what are you doing here?"

"I—what? Right now? But I'm not even warmed up!"

"I understand," Midoriya says, kicking at the floor in disappointment.

"All Might did what?"

All over his body.

"Oh, Izuku, I'm so sorry!"

But he has to do this.

Chapter End Notes

I'd appreciate any feedback.

See the end of the chapter for more notes

"No, he hasn't. What are they, full of autographs?"

"All Might, help!" Midoriya shouts shakily.

"I'm up here..." Midoriya says weakly.

Midoriya scampers away, startled by the voice in his ear. "W-what?"

"I… I can," Midoriya agrees. "W-where are you?"

"Nonono!" Midoriya defends, "it's just… who are you?"

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