Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Izuku was fading.  He wasn’t sure how long he had been reading, only that the sun had still been out when he started.  The common area was pitch black save the light from his laptop.  It was bright enough that it was starting to sting his exhausted eyes but not quite enough to illuminate the notes to his side or the paperback in his lap.  Trying to strain his eyes to make out the text only made them hurt more.  Briefly, he entertained the idea to get up and turn on the overhead light, but that would mean getting up from the comfortable position at the table.  Nothing was about to break him out of his research rhythm. Except maybe that he couldn’t really see what he was writing down.  But that didn’t really matter too much; worse comes to worse they wouldn’t be as neat as he liked them and might have to edit down the road.

Wait, no, focus.  You can’t take notes if you’re not actually reading what’s in front of you, he thought.  It didn’t help that the article was pretty dull: a laundry list of nearly identical pre-quirk organizations described in the most sterile way possible.  Did he really need that many notes?  He could just- No, that’s just my tired brain trying to sabotage me.  I need to get this done by tomorrow. Have to-

“What are you doing in here this late?”

Izuku jumped to his feet and dropped his book, a shrill yelp escaping his lips.  The light over the table came on, revealing All Might at the edge of its range.

“Didn’t mean to spook ya, kid,” he chuckled.  He walked closer and leaned down to pick up the tossed book.  Izuku was about to say he could get it himself when All Might cut him off.  “’The Man of Yesterday: How Superheroes of Pre-Quirk Fiction Helped Shape Post-Quirk Reality.’  Are you really working on Midnight’s history project now?”

“… Yeah.”  Izuku slumped back into his chair.  All Might looked down at him with a furrowed brow.

“I thought that wasn’t due until next month?”

“Wanted to get a head start.”

“You can do that without staying up past curfew.”  He crossed his arms and leaned against the kitchen counter.

“Yeah but I wanted to get as much done as possible, so I won’t have to worry as much about it on the Jakku trip,” Izuku argued, slightly bolder in his exhaustion.

“The Jakku trip?”

“Mmhm.”

“The one we’re leaving on tomorrow?”

“Yep.”

“The one where we all have to get up super early?”

“Yeah?”  Izuku’s tone questioned his point.

“Young Midoriya, it’s one thirty in the morning,” All Might said sternly.

“… Is it?” he asked, finally picking up on the problem.  All Might put his head back a little and sighed.

“There is a clock on your task bar.”

“Is there?” Izuku asked in a smaller voice.

“I’m looking at it right now.”  Izuku turned to look at his laptop, then snapped back to his teacher.

“Huh, so there is…  I can sleep on the bus,” he said, pointing at All Might.

“You can also read on the bus.  Go to bed.”  All Might pointed at the stairs.

“Just let me finish this one m-“

“Kid, you look dead on your feet.  And they’re gonna be working you kids hard right out of the gate tomorrow.  You need to sleep,” he tried to reason.

“Please, I’m almost done with this section.  Please?” he begged.  All Might stared him down for a good ten seconds before closing his eyes, putting his hands together and taking a deep breath.

“You have ten minutes.”

“Thank you so much!”

“Volume.”

“Sorry, thank you so much,” Izuku whispered before turning back to work.  Behind him, All Might rounded the counter into the kitchen.  “Wait, why are you here so late?”

“I’m watching your time,” he half threatened, half teased.  Izuku immediately went back with another little whining sound.  A snort from the kitchen.  “I’m an old man with chronic pain and a lifetime of trauma.”  Izuku winced.  Another little chuckle.  “And I forgot my mug.”  The Superman book appeared in front of his face and he accepted it gingerly with some muttered thanks.  It took him a moment to turn it back to the page he had left off on.  All Might slid into the opposite chair.  “So,” a quick swig from his World’s Okayest Teacher mug, “what’s your project?”

“I’m talking about how, in his world and in the real one, Superman was a symbol of human goodness and hope and how he kinda laid the groundwork for real heroes to be the same when quirks started appearing.  But, like, a lot of people then and now just dismiss his perfect idealism as unobtainable and naïve so some don’t even try even though a lot of people would appreciate the effort like I do and nobody really even tried until All Might an- ah, I mean you did it and became the, uh, Symbol of Peace and, well you’re not really anymore and…” he trailed off, sinking further into his chair.

“You’re next?” All Might supplied.  His soft smile was equal parts soft encouragement and sympathy.  Maybe even a small apology in there somewhere.  A brief but heavy silence came over them before Izuku spoke again.

“Yeah…  And, and besides that, ever since you retired there have been all these think pieces claiming you didn’t do as much as people gave you credit for, or that you did more harm than good…  It’s just wrong.”  There weren’t any tears in his eyes, he didn’t even sniffle, yet he still rubbed his face with a sleeve.  At this point it was a force of habit.  The gesture and all it implied wasn’t lost on All Might.  “Sorry for ranting a bit there…”

“It’s alright.  If anything, I’m glad you feel so passionately about all this…”  Mercifully, he steered the conversation back around.  “Don’t you kids have to pick a specific story line to analyze?  Have you decided what you’re going to do yet?  If not, I can give you a recommendation or two.”  He reclined a little.

Izuku mimicked his position.  “Well, I think I want to do something standalone, so I don’t half to waste the word count on explaining continuity.  And my stuff tends to run a little long as is.”

“Smart.”

“So, right now I’m torn between ‘All Star Superman,’ for the idealism in practice, or ‘The Death of Superman’ to talk about the presence and absence of a symbol,” he said, then rested his chin in his hands.  “What were you gonna recommend?”

“Actually,” he started, as he went to copy his apprentice’s new stance, “’All Star’ was at the top of my list.  If I were you, I’d want to focus on what Superman’s actions stand for, rather than his absence.”  Izuku smiled a little.  “Besides that, ‘All Star’ is just an all-around better story.  And certainly more positive.  Although, I may be a little biased considering it’s my personal favorite.”  He leaned back again and took another drink.  It took a moment, but Izuku slowly lifted his head with an awed expression.

“Wait…  Did you…  Did you get your name from that?  From ‘All Star Superman?”

“Maybe…”  All Might said, barely suppressing a smirk.

Izuku inhaled sharply.  “Well now I have to do that one!”

“Volume.”

“Sorry,” Izuku muttered.  “Can I quote you on that in my report?”

“Sure,” All Might mock-whispered.  “If you go to bed now, I’ll let you borrow my trade of it.”

“Oh, so that’s your game,” the teen barked, throwing up his hands in an exaggerated display of annoyance.  “I’m not a toddler, you know.  I don’t need to be bribed to go to bed.”

“Then why won’t you go?” All Might laughed.

“Well, I can’t now that you’ve revealed this crucial information.  I gotta follow up on it.  Wait, does anyone else know that’s where the name comes from?”

“Nope.  You’ve got an exclusive nugget of trivia, fanboy.”

“Oh man,” he breathed.  So many follow-up questions raced through his mind at once he wouldn’t have been able to form one coherently even if his brain wasn’t running on fumes.  The most he could manage was a wide-open mouth with a few gaping noises.

All Might chuckled again.  “Really?  You’re one of the only people who knows my identity and backstory.  Heck, you have my actual quirk, and you give the same reverence to an influence on my name?”

“All knowledge is sacred.”  More laughter.  All Might reached across the table to ruffle his hair.  Izuku gladly leaned into the gesture.

“You’re a good kid, you know that?”  Said kid beamed.  “I actually wouldn’t mind you spreading around.  Might generate some interest in the comics.  Maybe then people will start reprinting them again so getting a hold of them won’t cost an arm and a leg.”

“You collect them?  Pre-quirk comics?” he questioned.

“Alas,” he put his hand over his forehead dramatically, “I have a long-standing addiction that goes back to before I was your age.  Here’s another piece of the puzzle: I only got into heroing so I could afford a massive library of pre-quirk comics.”

“That’s not true,” Izuku said with fake offense.

“I mean, it sort of is,” he admitted.  That was met with a tilt of the head and a lost expression.  “When I was young, heroes didn’t have the overwhelming media presence they do today.  They were more on the level of cops or firemen; they didn’t stand out unless you were paying attention.  I started paying attention because I fell in love with the heroes of fiction first.”

Izuku stared, mouth open.  “… Can you say that again I’m gonna write that down.”  All Might put his head in his hands in mock-exasperation.  But he did what his student asked.  “So, Superman is your favorite hero?”

“Is this an interview now?”  He put his hands behind his head and rested a leg on a spare chair.  “Yeah, he’s one of my favorites.  Was for most of my childhood.  But after I started training with One for All, I got really into Blue Beetle.”  The sound of Izuku’s pencil scratching filled the following pause.

“Never heard of him,” he said without looking up.

“Not surprised.  He was more of a C-lister.  But he’s another one I’d highly recommend, especially the original run of Jaime Reyes.”  He paused for Izuku to interject.  When he didn’t, he kept going.  “The Blue Beetle was a legacy hero, and Jaime was the third incarnation.  A running theme of his stories was about figuring out how to make his new powers his own while still honoring the memory of those who came before him…  Now who does that sound like?”  All Might ruffled his student’s hair again, almost pushing his head into the notebook.  Izuku laughed weakly and pretended to bat his hand away.

“What sort of things do you read besides comics?” he asked, in a half-hearted attempt to keep the focus.

“When I get the chance, I also read a lot of pre-quirk science fiction.”

“Do you only read pre-quirk stuff?” he mocked.  “Were you born in the wrong generation?”  All Might flicked Izuku’ bangs.

“Oh, quiet you.  Let me be an old man in peace.”

“You’re not that o-“

“To answer your question,” he cut off with a matter-of-fact tone, “I grew up on old American sci-fi because I inherited several old books from my family,” he finished, crossing his arms.

“Anything I’d know?”  His laptop went dark with disuse.

“Doubt it.  From what I remember of being in school, we didn’t have much exposure to American literature.  And when I studied in America, they barely considered sci-fi to be literature at all.”  He thought for a moment. “But you might have heard of some of the concepts.  Ever heard of the Butterfly Effect?”

Izuku dipped his head to one side.  “I think so.  That’s like, a butterfly flapping its wings in one place causes tornadoes somewhere far away, is that it?”

“Hurricanes,” All Might corrected.  “Something small can have huge ramifications further down the line, exactly.  It’s a part of chaos theory. The general idea had been around for a while, I think.  But the first use of the butterfly in the model was in a story called, ‘A Sound of Thunder’ by Ray Bradbury.”

“What happens?” Izuku asked with rapt attention.

“Basically, a bunch of idiots go back in time to kill a dinosaur and everything goes wrong,” All Might paused for dramatic effect, “but not in the way you think.”  He looked up and the ceiling and sighed.  “Yeesh, that story made me so anxious as a kid.  I second guessed every little thing I did and looked everywhere I stepped for weeks.”

“Where does the butterfly come in?”

“Spoilers, kid.”  All Might lifted his arm a bit and mimed bopping the boy on the head.  Izuku snickered, then got quiet.  He pulled at his bottom lip and gazed at nothing towards the ground.

“If…  If the Butterfly Effect is like something small causing something big…  Isn’t that like Superman?”  All Might leaned in and gestured for him to keep going.  “I-I mean, he was the first superhero.  He inspired a whole genre and industry and it became a huge feature of pop culture…  A-and when quirks started popping up, people started being superheroes for real, in part because they were inspired by that culture.”  He paused, looking thoughtful but still at the ground.  “Superman is our society’s butterfly…”

All Might clapped lightly and whistled.  “Sounds like someone has an opening statement,” he applauded.  But Izuku still didn’t lift his head. “What else?”

“… A-and it’s like, like how everything in my life right now, school, my friends, even this conversation, goes back to you giving me your quirk.”  He got quieter with every word.  His next were barely a whisper. “I owe you everything…”  Of course, he knew that already.  But if felt different to actually say it out loud.  All Might sighed, then got up and put a hand on his student’s shoulder.

“I’m gonna have to disagree with you on that one,” he said lightly.

“Huh?”  Izuku finally looked up at him.

“I may have made you my successor, but you were the one to prove yourself.  You ran out to save Young Bakugou.  Even though you couldn’t do much, you still tried.  You inspired me to act.”  All might poked his chest for emphasis.  “And you have continued to inspire me ever since.  If anything, I owe you.”  He smiled the small, genuine smile he saved just for him.  Izuku’s face scrunched up and he turned back to the floor.  “Oh, none of that.  No tears tonight,” he said as he pulled him closer, so his head could rest against his side.  Izuku’s only response was a faint hum followed by a yawn.  “And if you still feel you owe me, I have a way you can pay me back.”

“How?”

“By going to bed.”

“Wait what?”  Izuku’s head shot up.  “But I-“

“I gave you a topic recommendation and some backstory stuff, plus a pep talk.  That’s more than enough for tonight.  Ten minutes is up.”

“But-“

“No buts, unless it’s yours getting up to bed,” he said, tone leaving no room for argument.

Izuku groaned and dramatically sprawled his face and hands across the table.  But soon after he packed up his things without any more of a fuss.  The fact that saving the links and gathering up his writing implements felt like such a hassle brought him back to the reality of how tired he really was.  It felt like it took forever.  By the time he was done, All Might was waiting patiently by the elevator.  They got in together.

“I wasn’t kidding before,” All Might started.  “I’m pretty sure I’ve got a copy of ‘All Star Superman’ you can borrow.  And I’m sure I have an anthology with ‘A Sound of Thunder’ in Japanese lying around if you want to read that.”  Izuku just hummed again, letting himself rest against his mentor’s arm.  Said arm moved slightly to pull him into a half-hug.  “Those are much nicer examples to think about though, you and Superman.  Usually the Butterfly Effect refers to something negative.”

The elevator doors opened to the second floor all too quickly.  All Might gave his student a gentle shove to get him moving. Izuku slumped forward obediently and dragged his feet out into the hall.

“Goodnight, Superboy,” All Might called.

“Mmh g’night, Dad,” he slurred back.  The doors shut before either could react.  Izuku stopped briefly in his tracks.  Did that actually just happen?  Did I imagine that?  Normally, he would have died on the spot from embarrassment.  But at the time, he didn’t have enough energy to feel anything other than tired.  Well, whatever.  That’s morning Izuku’s problem now.

Chapter Text

Morning Izuku in fact had no problems at first, apart from being dead tired.  He’d managed to get a decent few hours of sleep, and if the bus ride went well he could have at least three more.  Most of his things had already been packed, so he spent the thirty minutes between waking up and when they had to load onto the bus just going through his normal routine.  Still, he took the time to triple check that he had everything ready to go.  Not that there was much to check anyway; they would only be gone for a long weekend and their costumes were already on the bus.  Apart from standard clothes and pajamas, he brought a small travel pillow, his hero notes, and swim trunks based on a tip from Mirio-sempai that they would be taken to a secret pond on the last day.  Once he was sure nothing was forgotten, he went downstairs to wait for the call to board.  During all that time, he convinced himself that the conversation with All Might had been a dream.

It hadn’t.  After finding a seat on the bus, All Might walked back towards him and handed him a little book of American short stories translated into Japanese.  The one they had talked about was bookmarked with a little scrap of paper with a butterfly drawing.

“Let me know what you think,” he said with a smile Izuku couldn’t quite read.  Although it may have been too dark to see.  “I’ll see if I can find the Superman book when we get back.”  Then he went back up to the front of the bus with the other teachers without further comment.

Izuku cringed.  He shrank into himself before smacking his face against the book.  If the stuff about the books was real, then so was me calling him Dad.  Yeesh, that’s awful.  At least he didn’t seem upset about it.  He still brought me the book…  But what if he is and just isn’t showing it?  All Might is nice like that…

“What seems to be the problem, mon ami?” Aoyama, who Izuku had completely forgotten about, asked.  “Seems a little early for a breakdown, wouldn’t you say~?”

“Aoyama, can I have the window seat?  I need to throw myself out when we hit the highway,” Izuku mumbled from behind the book.

“Well, I’m certainly not going to switch when you have those kind of plans,” he teased.  “Now, under normal circumstances, you’d be sputtering your gratitude through tears at so much as a compliment from All Might, let alone a gift.  Something…  Must have happened,” he finished dramatically as he leaned into Izuku’s space, who cringed some more.  “Just kidding!” Aoyama interjected after he picked up on his friend’s discomfort.

Izuku had to give it to the guy, he always knew just what buttons to push, but was equally observant as to when he crossed a line.

“Nothing happened and it’s not a gift.  I’m just tired.”  Izuku fake-yawned to try and sell it, only to cut himself off with a real yawn.  “We were talking about American stuff and he said I could borrow one of his books if I wanted to read some recommendations.”

“Then why do you look so out of sorts, hmm?” Aoyama asked, holding his head up with his hands on either side of his face.

“I didn’t think he’d give it to me on the bus…”  Not the real reason, but still embarrassing.  Todoroki was in the seat in front of him, and he could practically smell his suspicion.  At least half the class knew about his little illegitimate-child conspiracy, though how many believed it was unclear.  Last thing he needed was to give them more fuel.

“Yes, and?”  Aoyama probably knew.

Izuku scowled at him, but he didn’t have a good answer.  Not unless he was willing to elaborate on the full conversation, which he wasn’t.  He was fully prepared to lock that memory up tight somewhere deep in his mind until he died.  Instead, he pulled his travel pillow out of his backpack and turned away from his seatmate.  Said seatmate sighed quietly.

“If it matters that much, I don’t think anyone saw…” he whispered. 

Izuku heard the shuffling of Aoyama setting up his own pillow against the window from behind him.  He could tell he was trying to be as quiet as possible.  Guilt bubbled in his chest.  Upon opening his eyes, he saw that most everyone else on the bus was in the same state of trying to make up for lost sleep.  Heads leaned against pillows, windows, shoulders, and other heads.  Muffled snores drowned out the light footsteps of stragglers getting on the bus.  They probably weren’t paying attention, not that that was the problem.  Still, he shouldn’t have been rude to Aoyama.  But when Izuku turned around to apologize, his friend was already asleep as well.  He leaned back into a purple neck pillow that even in the darkness sparkled faintly.  He also wore a matching sleep mask.  Even his weak snores seemed to have a slight French accent.  Izuku resolved to apologize later, after he got some shuteye of his own. 

The charter bus departed at 5:45, fifteen minutes earlier than planned.  The students of both first-year classes started to stir around an hour later.  It started with a few scattered yawns, then the sound of objects being retrieved from bags, followed by whispered apologies for waking others.  Izuku had been jarred awake early on after Mina dropped something under his seat, and she accidentally bumped it when she reached down.  After a muttered “Sorry” and “It’s okay,” Izuku decided to give up on sleep.  By then the sun started rising.  He could tell when Yaoyorozu was awake by people passing whispered requests for sunglasses or window shades or something, eventually met with “It’s too early, leave her be.”  He was content to watch the city fly by until the sun reflecting off the buildings hurt his eyes.

Around that time, Izuku figured there was enough light to comfortably read the book All Might gave him.  When he moved to fish it out of his bag, he realized that he had it on his lap the whole time.  At first, he thought that he had messed up the pages, considering many were bent at the corners.  Upon closer inspection, the book was just old and worn from use.  The crinkled cover displayed a man with green-feathered wings holding a mug with the sun in it.  The pages were yellowing, and a few were torn slightly.  Mom would have probably described the book as “well-loved.”  It was probably older than he was.  Still, it was All Might’s, so he was a little gentler than he usually was when turning the pages.  Izuku briefly turned to the table of contents to see if he recognized any other titles; he didn’t.  The book’s spine was creased at the opening page for the story All Might bookmarked, implying that it was visited quite often.  All the more reason to treat it with care.

So, he read it.  And read it again, because what the heck just happened?  He recalled All Might’s comment about the Butterfly Effect applying to negative things, but the example in the story was a much more extreme example.  Stepping on a butterfly in the age of the dinosaurs apparently sends humanity down a much darker course of history.  It wasn’t even that shocking; there was a massive paragraph towards the beginning that explained everything that was going to happen, and then it did.  And what did happen was too vague to really get a sense of scope.  But something about it just made Izuku uncomfortable.

As if summoned by his discomfort, Aoyama woke up.

“The book turned out alright, I presume?” he asked, not lifting his head from his pillow, which had become a disco ball in the sunlight.  Nor did he take off his sleep mask.

“Uh, yeah, I think so.  Honestly, I’m still trying to digest what I just read…  Sorry for being mean earlier…” Izuku muttered.

“Oh, it’s nothing.  We can’t all be morning people~.”  He still hadn’t sat up, but his voice indicated that he was wide awake right away.  He turned briefly to look out the window.  “Still feel like jumping out?”

“Heh, no, I’m good.  I’m good,” he assured. 

“I’m glad to hear it.”

And that was the end of that.  It was times like these where he couldn’t help but be grateful for his friends.  Izuku had been used to walking on eggshells with every other person he came across for years, so that casual forgiveness still sort of an unfamiliar experience.  In middle school, a misunderstanding like that could have cost him his lunch, but Aoyama brushed it off like it was no big deal.  Which, in retrospect, it really wasn’t. 

Speaking of lunch, Aoyama had the forethought to pack a lunchbox full of snacks for the road.  When Uraraka and Tsuyu, who sat across the aisle from them, woke up, he passed around napkins with cheese slices and a hard-boiled egg in them to the group.  There was enough for Iida and Todoroki as well, but they slept through almost the entire ride. 

After eating, Uraraka pulled out a set of Uno cards.  The four of them got a few rounds in, of which Izuku won two, thank you very much, before people in the surrounding seats asked to play.  They found out the hard way that a nine-person game was way too many and had to limit it to six.  Izuku volunteered to sit out, and promptly which places with Aoyama so he could keep playing.  Izuku fell into a pattern of playing a round, reading one story, then looking out the window until it was his turn to play again.  They all played for a while until Yaoyorozu pulled out a “Dos” card that she probably created.  The wave of laughter that consumed the first half of the bus didn’t die down for almost five minutes.  At that point it was decided that nothing in Uno could top that moment and everyone moved on to something else.

Jakku was a small farming village in a mountain valley about half a day’s drive north of U.A.  The purpose of going there was to give the students a taste of what small-town hero work was like.  Most of their previous training, both at school and in the field, concerned either urban sprawl or pure nature.  Small rural towns carried some of the environmental challenges of both: a populated area where people and buildings needed to be kept out of harm’s way, and vast, difficult-to-navigate wilderness that kept help that much further away.  And that didn’t even cover the business side of things.  Heroes tended to work more closely with police and other authorities, and as such were often subject to a stricter code of conduct.  Not to mention the heavier regulations of the towns themselves.  Such places tended to have more historical sites so collateral damage expenses were that much higher.  Some would require their heroes to match a costume theme.  Others had limits on how many agencies and heroes could base their operations there.  This meant that the standards for acceptance into an agency were much higher than average, and those for dismissal were lower.  A few went so far as to ban use of certain quirk types from doing hero work at all.  And all of that for a much smaller paycheck.

But the primary goal of the trip to Jakku was that in small towns, community engagement was a necessity rather than a polite suggestion.  Working with schools, helping at festivals, assisting during harvest seasons, and whatever odd jobs took the place of crime waves were tacked on to the job description.  Supposedly, the close personal connections between civilians and heroes made the restrictions worth it.  But at the end of the day it was up to the individual.  Thus, U.A. deemed it important to expose the prospective heroes to the possibility of working in such a location.

Izuku wondered what it would be like as he watched distant mountains creep over the horizon.  To be honest, he had mixed feelings about small-town hero work.  Sure, his thesis statement as a hero was to help and inspire people, and in an intimate space like a small community could let him do that on a more personal level.  But big events that required hero intervention rather than standard law enforcement tended to pool around urban centers.  Incidents in cities also had a different line up of heroes to solve them each time, which was a bonus to Izuku’s fanboy heart.  That wasn’t to mention his goal as the future Symbol of Peace, which was probably going to involve being on nation-wide, if not international call.  Setting up roots in a place so cut off from the outside would most likely be a hindrance.  Besides, he liked the city.  He had lived in one all his life.  He doubted a three-and-a-half-day excursion could change his mind on that.  But he could at least try to keep an open mind and have an enjoyable time. 

Izuku made it half-way through the book by the time they made it to Jakku just after noon.  The other stories were significantly less bleak than the first and had a lot of variety considering they were all by the same author.  He had been so ingrained that he hadn’t noticed they had reached the town.  It was in a valley surrounded by forest-covered mountains, the tallest Izuku had ever seen in person.  The sense of wonder was inhibited by anxious familiarity; it looked a lot like the range of the training camp.  This was the first long-distance, over-night trip the class had made since then, and this was much farther away. 

Looking around the bus, he wasn’t the only one to feel so.  The volume dropped significantly when they pulled into the parking lot of what was presumably the lodge they’d be staying at.  Kendo had her knees to her chest and gazed anywhere but out the window.  Bakugou fidgeted with his stuff already on his lap and ready to disembark.  He flinched away violently when Kirishima tried to put a hand on his shoulder.

The class went silent when the bus doors opened and Aizawa stepped off.  They could hear him talking with someone a little way off, but no one could quite make out what they were saying.  Somebody from class 1-B tried to ask Jirou to listen in, but she put her jacks into a pillow and buried her face in it.  Izuku and Aoyama tried to see what was going out from the window, but they were at a bad angle.  They did, however, see a few passerby’s stop and point at the bus.  They were just close enough to see that they weren’t happy.

Aizawa returned, and everyone sat up.  He sighed before he spoke.

“So, I’m going to be as straight forward as possible.  The people of Jakku are not happy we’re here.”  He paused a moment to let the murmurs die down.  “While this place has been an annual trip for U.A.’s first years for over a decade, they feel that this year’s class has been a magnet for trouble.  And they fear something similar will happen with our presence.  Negotiating a return trip was an uphill battle given the past few months’ events, so it should go without saying that you should be on your best behavior.  But I’m going to say it anyway: be on your best behavior.  You are going to be working under local authorities, so you will do what they say without question.”  He gazed across the group.  “You will not go off by yourself.”  To Iida.  “You will not randomly show off your quirk without being directed to.”  To Bakugou.  “And you will not engage a villain unless given express permission.”  To Izuku, who swallowed hard.  “Once myself and the rest of the teachers get off the bus, you will follow in an orderly fashion and line up outside.  Then you will get your room assignments and your luggage.  Afterwards, you are to go straight to your rooms, drop off your stuff, change into your costumes, and come right back out.  Then we will eat lunch and go over the plans for today.”  He looked around again.  “Am I clear?”

“Yes, Sensei,” everyone shouted.

“Then let’s go,” he grunted, then turned around and walked off.  The other teachers followed.

The lodge was a collection of two story buildings that reminded Izuku of his own apartment building, if a little smaller.  The rooms opened to the outside on only one side with the second floor accessible by an external staircase on the side.  Even the paint job was similar.  He almost said something to the others, but then he overheard Kaminari call the place run down.  The U.A. students had a building to themselves, with two people to a room.  Assignments were random, so a few people ended up with someone from the other class.  The teachers were in the building next door.  The rooms themselves were pretty bare bones; just two beds with a nightstand and lamp each. 

“At least we have a bathroom,” Mineta groaned as he and Izuku inspected their room.  They did rock, paper, scissors to see who got to use it first.  Mineta won.  “Sweet relief!”

Izuku checked out the window while he waited.  They were on the second floor, and the tree line only a few meters away.  The trees were a lot taller and denser that the forest training area back at school, maybe even the site of the training camp.  Those had mostly been some sort of oak; these were ancient pines.  He couldn’t remember if he had ever been to a place like it before.  Sudden excitement gripped him.  He hoped that they’d get to go hiking at some point.

He and Mineta were some of the first back to where the teachers waited.  They occupied some picnic tables near the main lodge in the shade.  All Might and Aizawa were there, of course, along with Blood King, Midnight, Present Mic, and Ectoplasm.  In years past, only the homeroom teachers came, but it had been decided that a few more feet on the ground couldn’t hurt.  Among them were local pros: a woman with perfectly round, black spots all over her body, and a strong-looking man with a zebra head.  The both wore matching green vests and khaki shorts.  Izuku recognized them as Cheat-A and Racing Stripes, the married pair at the head of Jakku’s Safari Agency.  Izuku swallowed a wave of fanboy panic.

Best behavior, best behavior, he repeated to himself.

“I’m gonna assume you know about them,” Mineta whispered.  “What can they do?”

“Racing Stripes has enhanced stamina and hoofed feet, so he could run long distances over almost any terrain,” Izuku started as he leaned down.  “And the woman, Cheat-A, ca-“

“Can give you a demonstration if ya want!” she called.

The two boys jumped in surprise.  The teachers laughed.

“Uh, um,” they both muttered, embarrassed.

“Well, c’mon over, don’t be shy,” Cheat-A said.  She got up and skipped over to the two.  “Watch closely!”  She peeled a spot off her forearm like a sticker and flicked it towards the ground.  It spun and expanded like tossed pizza dough to the size of a car tire before landing on the ground.  Then she put a second one on a wall.  “Stand back.”  She took a step away and did a back flip into the spot on the ground.  Then she tumbled out of the wall spot and landed with jazz hands “Ta-da!”

“Woah!” Izuku cheered. 

“Now that was cool,” Mineta agreed.

“Thanks!  Wanna try it?”  Cheat-A grabbed Izuku by the arm and dragged him to the edge of the ground spot.  It had no visible texture and reflected no light. 

“S-so I just, uh, jump in?” he asked.  He knew he would just come out of the wall, but his instincts told him to hesitate before jumping where he couldn’t see.  Short-range portal emitter-type.  How long do they last?  What’s the maximum distance two spots can be apart for them to work?  Somehow, he managed not to mutter outload. 

“Yep.  Both feet at the same time, please!” she cheered.  In the background, the teachers and Racing Stripes watched.  All except Blood King, who was checking his phone. 

“Okay.”  He took a deep breath and jumped.  And nothing happened.  A few of the adults chuckled.  Izuku shifted his feet a little; he felt like he was on solid ground.  As he turned back to Cheat-A, he said, “Oh so it only works for y-eep!“  He dropped down like a stone and yelped.  The next thing he knew he was in the air on his side before falling on his back.  Everyone cackled.  Izuku sat up and tried to reorient himself.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Cheat-A choked out through laughter.  She went to help him up.  “The spots will stay until I remove them, but I decide whether or not people can go though.  I’m sorry, but we gotta get at least one every year.  Oh my God, that little noise you made was adorable.”  Then to Blood King, “Please tell me you got that!”

“Yep.”  He held up his phone with a smirk.  All Might shoved his shoulder.

“You jerk,” he joked.

“Can’t argue with tradition.”

All Might chuckled again, then got up.  Izuku went over in time to get out of the way of Mineta jumping through the portal.  But Cheat-A quickly shooed him away at the approach of other students.  Izuku wouldn’t be her only victim that day. 

“I saw you reading the book on the bus.  How was it?” All Might asked.

“It was really interesting.  There’s a lot more variety than I expected.”  Izuku smiled lightly and looked off towards the trees in the distance.  They looked sturdy enough that he could use them as footholds for Full Cowl.

“Mmhm, what about ‘A Sound of Thunder?’” he questioned hopefully.

Izuku’s smile weakened.  “I…  I’m not sure how to feel about that one.  It’s so much more, I don’t know, dark, I guess, than the others.  Why is that?”

All Might shrugged.  “You must not be very far then.  It’s far from the only dark story in that book,” he said, then cocked his head to the side.  “If I recall with that anthology, the first story is fairly dark.  The one with the monster and the light house, right?”

“Yeah, that one was sad, but…  I don’t know, something about ‘A Sound of Thunder’ just…”  He tensed and whispered, “It just makes me uncomfortable, and I’m not sure why.”

“It’s because it applies, doesn’t it?”  All Might asked in an equally quiet voice.  He put a gentle hand on his successor’s shoulder and pushed him along as they walked away from the crowd.  “It made you look back at your own actions and wonder how easily things could have been different.  It’s one thing to talk about that, but it’s another thing entirely to see it in practice.”

Everything suddenly clicked into place.  That was what bothered him about the story.  It made everything seem so fragile.  All these good things in his life went back to All Might giving him his quirk.  And even that was a trick of luck.  Right place, right time.  He couldn’t help but question if it was supposed to happen like it did.  What if this was the bad timeline?  What if he hadn’t gotten in the way and All Might found someone better down the line?  Izuku looked up and hoped All Might would understand without him having to explain.

He did.  “When I first read that story, I was much younger than you are now, and it terrified me,” he began.  “As I got older, as I trained with One for All, I started to see it differently.  The bad things happen in that story because the man didn’t stay on the path laid out for him.  He could have swallowed his fear and kept going, but he didn’t.  Those around him gave him an out, but he didn’t listen.  He ran away and everyone else suffered for it.  I think, I think the path of All for One is sort of like that…  I assume you still think I chose the wrong person?”

“…  Yes,” he admitted, barely louder than the wind.

“Well I disagree,” he bellowed.  “But when I was your age, I thought the same thing of myself at times.  Why would my master choose little-quirkless-nobody me?  The only reason I got it was through dumb luck.  Surely there must be someone else better out there, right?  But it doesn’t matter.  Do you know why?”  Izuku just tilted his head in response.  “Because luck only gets you so far.  Sure, it was chance that we met and that I was there during the sludge villain attack.  That’s the path.  You could have gone backwards or stepped off, but you didn’t.  You chose to go forward and fight the monster.  And you’ve kept on the path forward since…”  He paused to gather his last few words.  “Luck, luck may have played a role in setting up the path, but it is through your constant conviction and effort that you remain.”  He patted his back and smiled.  “And for me, at least, that story became more of a comfort as time passed.  It was reassurance that this is the good timeline.  Do you understand what I’m trying to say?”

“I think so…  Is that why you had me read it?” Izuku asked, still unsure of how to feel.

“Nope.  It’s just one of my favorite science fiction stories and I wanted to share it with you.  Didn’t think you’d take it so personally.”  All Might rubbed the back of his neck.

Izuku groaned.  Someone hollered in the distance for everyone to gather up.  Nearly all the other students were back and in costume.

“Well,” he said, straightening up, “I’d better head over.  Thanks for the pep talk.”

“Any time, especially since I’m the one who kinda put you in that funk.”  He rubbed his neck again and sighed.  "All right, have fun out there.  Learn a lot,” All Might said, ruffling his student’s hair. 

“I will.”  He started to jog towards the others.

“Oh, and Young Midoriya!” he called.  Izuku stopped and turned around.  “This is a pretty rural area, so there are a lot of bugs.  Watch your step!” he teased and winked.

Izuku groaned again.

Cheat-A and Racing Stipes gave a much friendlier orientation over lunch than Aizawa.  While they acknowledged that a good chunk of Jakku’s population was anxious about U.A. being there, they played it down.  Instead, they focused on the positives.  Namely, that Jakku has an incredibly low crime rate.  Because of this, most of the students would be involved in community engagement projects over the next few days. 

Later that night, they would help set up and work at a festival celebrating the town’s founding.  The second day would involve cleaning and repairing local historic buildings.  And the morning of the third day, there would be a quirk seminar for the local schools.  A few of the heroes in training would be selected to not only demonstrate their quirks but speak about their experiences and how they informed their personal goals.  Of course, if there was a villain attack, nearby groups would step in to help.  But the pros told them not to get their hopes up.  Time in between these events would be spent patrolling around town, picking up trash and helping with odd jobs that came up.

Izuku overheard Bakugou scoff quietly behind him.  That was followed by the distinct sounds of Kirishima elbowing him in the shoulder and Bakugou letting out a low growl.  The familiar interaction brought him a semblance of calm normalcy. 

The rest of the afternoon consisted of a tour of the area.  Class 1-A went with Racing Stripes; class 1-B with Cheat-A.  Izuku’s class started in the center of town, among a cluster of historic buildings that were all at least six hundred years old.  From there they circled outwards, crisscrossing to various important structures while Racing Stripes exposited about the town’s history and culture.  It was genuinely interesting at first, but as they moved further along, things started to get monotonous.  Here’s the town’s only internet café, here’s the only doctor’s office, here’s a tree that’s kind of older than most of the other trees and people hang stuff in it sometimes. 

When Mirio-senpai had spoken about the tour period, he said that they would meet a bunch of important locals who would tell cool stories about their lives and the town’s history.  From the looks of it, they had all backed out in fear of being in the cross-fire of an attack from the League.  The people they passed on the street didn’t seem too enthused either.  They sped up as they passed and avoided eye contact.  A few ducked inside a building or crossed to the other side of the street.  The rest scowled.

Izuku tried to get enthused, he really did, but most of the information was stuff he had already read about in preparation for the trip.  It didn’t help that Racing Stripes was clearly not accustomed to giving guided tours.  He mostly just pointed to things and gave descriptions that Izuku swore where from the same websites where he did his own research.  Looking around, most of his peers felt the same way, though most maintained their composure.  Like Izuku, the majority were city kids: born and raised in them and planned to stay in such settings for hero work.  Even those from more rural areas, like Koda and Uraraka, had been drawn to hero work in part by the appeal of getting away from where they came from.  There must have been something more interesting around than Jakku’s newly remodeled post office.  That, plus the frosty reception from the locals, disillusioned him with the whole thing.  There was a teeny, tiny, microscopic corner of his mind that wanted something to go wrong.

Two hours later, they were greeted with the system shock they wanted, but not necessarily the one they asked for. 

“Yo, it’s U.A.!” somebody shouted from across a small street.  All the student’s heads snapped towards the source in sync.  Two kids in elementary school uniforms rushed over towards them.

“Hey, you’re s’pposed to look both ways!” Racing Stripes chastised, though the street was barren of any moving cars.

“Sorry,” the kids said, as they ran up to near where Izuku stood.  “You guys are class 1-A, right?  We saw you in the Sports Festival!  You’re coming to speak at our school, right?” 

Neither Izuku nor anyone else could get a word in. 

“Yo, you gotta come back to the school with us.  The others are gonna freak!”

“Hey, Stripes!  Can they come back to school with us?  Please?” the boy with kaleidoscope-like eyes begged.

“Well, these guys are here to help make the community better.”  Racing Stripes crossed his arms and smiled.  “What say you all?  Do you think spending time with some local children will make it better?”

“Children are the community’s future and deserve to spend time with positive influences!” Iida responded.  Todoroki cringed beside him.

“Plus, it’ll be fun to meet future heroes!  I would’ve died if I got the chance to meet people from the Sports Festival back when I was little!” Mina chimed it.

The two boys nodded furiously.  They didn’t even wait for Racing Stripes to respond. As soon as he put up his hands to shrug, one of the kids yanked Izuku towards where they had come from.  He had to be careful not to step on kaleidoscope kid’s feet as he jogged along.  His friend had his phone out and appeared to be sending out a mass text.  On the other side of the alley they ran through was a primary school, and a whole hoard of cheering students.  Classes must have just gotten out.  They all fanned out to swarm their favorite U.A. student to ask for autographs and pictures or to show off their quirk. 

Kaleidoscope kid introduced himself as Niji and dragged Izuku down onto the school steps.  A moderate crowd formed around him.  They all threw rapid fire questions before he managed to convince them to take turns.  But first, they waited for an introduction.  He tried to force back his awkwardness as best he could.

“So, uh, hi.  I’m Midoriya Izuku, my hero name is Deku, and my quirk is, uh, strength stockpiling…”  He looked across the fifteen or so faces that regarded him with intense curiosity.  Like a life line, one girl raised her hand.

“How come your quirk breaks your bones?” she asked after Izuku pointed to her.

“It, it doesn’t always.  Just when I use to much at once,” he defended with a nervous smile.  The following silence said they weren’t satisfied with the answer.  “Uh, you see, my quirk manifested super late.  I mean, right before the U.A. entrance exam late, so my body hasn’t had the time to adjust that you guys probably had.  That, combined with the already intense kickback, uh, broke my bones…  B-but I have more control now.  I found a way to control it, so the power output is smaller, but it doesn’t hurt me…  Anymore…”

Another kid raised his hand and Izuku pointed to him.

“So, like, does it come with resistance to pain?  Because I broke my finger playing baseball a couple months ago and I passed out it hurt so bad.”

A bunch of them laughed; it must have been a popular story.

“No, not really.  I think the adrenaline dulled the pain in the moment.  But I was real sore as soon as it wore off.” He rubbed the back of his head.  Then a thought came to his head.  They were supposed to be helping out.  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Racing Stripes looking towards their little huddle, horse-like ears at attention.  Izuku decided to make this a teaching moment.  “It, uh, actually still hurts sometimes…”  He took off his glove and rolled up his sleeve to reveal his amassed collection of scars and crooked fingers.  The kids who didn’t cringe gasped, impressed.  “Apart from the big blob on my upper arm, those little scars aren’t from the fights themselves, but from surgeries to try and put my bones back together.  If you looked at an X-ray of my arms now, the bones have some scars too, because they had to take some smaller pieces out completely…  And now, they’ve been hurt so much that I’m at the risk of paralysis if I break them again,” he said somberly.

More kids cringed that time.  Izuku pushed on with a smile.

“But I’ve taken some steps to prevent that,” he said confidently, then passed his glove to Niji beside him.  His eyes widened in surprise at how heavy it was.  “You feel the bracers inside?”  Niji nodded, then passed the glove to the next person.  “I requested the support department to improve them to lessen the strain on my arms.  And even then, I don’t use my quirk much with them anymore.  Now,” he patted his iron soles, “I mostly use a kick-based fighting style.  I’m still getting used to it, but it’s worked out so far.”  The glove made its way back to him.  He thought of how to bring the topic home.  He thought of the butterfly.  “I guess the lesson here is that all actions have consequences, even if they’re not immediately obvious.  And they can build up over time.  So, you should think before you act…  And don’t break your bones at the problem.”

Everyone laughed. 

A little way over, Racing Stripes gave him a thumbs up.

Their last destination was the site of the founding festival.  It was a small plaza at the base of the steps that lead up to the local shrine at the edge of town.  When the pros had said they would be helping set up, they meant that the students would be doing all the heavy lifting.  In Izuku’s case, literally.  He, Shoji, and Sato were tasked with carrying heavier supplies around to those who needed it.  That meant wooden planks and boards for stands, metal poles to hold up tents and lights, and crates full of food and prizes for games.  The two taller boys teased him by asking for help with something, then lifting it far above Izuku’s head.  They both got him once before he wised up. 

Uraraka got him too.  She was on one of the construction teams assembling a booth, when she asked him to hold down a board that wouldn’t stay put so Kirishima could nail down the other side.  In reality, she had made it float and made him look like a fool.  Apparently, it was pick-on-Deku day, but he couldn’t really find it in himself to be mad.  Better than being bored at least.

By the time class 1-B came around, they were basically done. 

“Oh ho, looks like poor class A got stuck with manual labor while we were getting a private tour of the local pro agency!” Monoma taunted.  Behind him, Kendo prepared to intervene.  “How fitting for the inferior class!”

Cheat-A interjected before anyone else could.  “Well, it looks like that means y’all are gonna half to help run the booths to make up for that!”

Kendo didn’t have to do anything to make Monoma shut up.

The festival itself had a low turn-out.  A couple of the kids from earlier came with their parents, but none stayed long.  The unspoken assumption was that people were afraid of a villain attack.  Honestly, Izuku couldn’t blame them.  Part of him was a little uneasy with so many of his peers in one place near sundown.  Like it or not, they were targets.  Back at the training camp, it had just been them, so there wasn’t even a chance for civilian casualties, not including Kota.  Out here, the whole town could be caught up in a fight.  He couldn’t help but glance towards the surrounding foothills, worried he’d see smoke or fire glow any moment.

His friends had a similar idea.  Uraraka, Iida, Aoyama, and Todoroki all sat on the steps together and talked about nothing, but no one looked in the same direction at the same time.  Nearby, the Bakusquad formed a protective ring around their namesake as they sat in the grass eating.  Shoji turned every arm that wasn’t holding a pack of sweets into ears or eyes that subtly flicked between directions.  Tokoyami walked with Dark Shadow watching his back.  Overhead, a few birds that Koda had been talking to earlier kept watch.  The few members of class 1-B he could see looked fidgety as they sat and waited for customers to come to their booth.

Izuku couldn’t stand the tension anymore.

“I’m gonna go get some food.  You guys want anything?”

“No thank you, Midoriya.  I ate whilst we set up,” Iida said, with the slightest decrease in his usual enthusiasm.  Everyone else just shrugged.

There weren’t many options; most stands only had prepackaged snack food.  The only things more substantial were a tokoyaki stand and a place selling American-style food he didn’t recognize.

“You want to try something?” 

Izuku jumped a little.

Cheat-A laughed and put her arm around his shoulder.  He flinched.

“Ha!  We meet again, my first victim.  Aizawa mentioned you were a little jumpy,” she teased. 

“Heh, yeah.  Where, where is he, by the way?” he asked uneasily.

“Oh, him and the others have been out taking over our patrols while we watch you kids today.  And speaking of kids, Stripes told me you made quite an impression on some of the locals earlier.  Hmm?”  She squeezed closer.

“Really?  I didn’t do that much today,” he said, looking towards the ground.  He subconsciously tried to shift away from her hold, but Cheat-A didn’t budge.  “We stopped at the elementary school, and I talked to some of the students about my quirk, U.A. courses, and some things about the villains I’ve fought.  Um, I mentioned some scars-“

“That’s it!” she yelled in his ear.  He winced.  Luckily, All Might and Racing Stripes came to his rescue from seemingly nowhere.  Cheat-A mercifully let go and went to hang off her husband’s arm.  “Aw, Hanten didn’t come?”

“Nope, said he had better things to do on a Thursday night,” Stripes replied.  Then to Izuku, “Hanten’s our son.  Middle school second year.  He decided to be a party pooper, but I’ll sure you’ll have a chance to meet him come Saturday.”

“What’s on Saturday?” Izuku questioned.

“The joint school quirk seminar,” Cheat-A cheered, fist-pumping the air.

“We were going to pick the head liners tomorrow afternoon, but I overheard that talk you gave about your scars, and I think it’s a winner,” Stripes continued.  “There are a lot of young aspiring heroes in Jakku, same as any other place.  I was checking the parents’ forum earlier, and a bunch of people were talking about how their kids came home and immediately started looking up safety measures to go with their quirks.  All those kids mentioned a U.A. student in green with diced-up arms.  For most, this was the first time they’d gotten serious about precautions.  You really reached them.”  He gave another thumbs up.  Behind him, All Might beamed.  Izuku couldn’t help but mimic his smile.

“And so,” Cheat-A popped back in, “we want you to reach some more people by speaking at the seminar!  It’s one thing to be told the consequences of pushing yourself too hard, especially when it comes to quirks.  It’s something else entirely to actually see it.”

“That is, if you’re okay with it,” Stripes cut in.

Izuku hesitated.  He remembered the guest speakers for quirk safety that had visited his school.  Their reminder of his lack of belonging being quirkless was twofold: the speaker either made having a harmful quirk seem better than having none at all or didn’t acknowledge the existence of the quirkless whatsoever.  And Bakugou’s gang always found a way to turn something they said into more ammunition for bullying.  Beyond his own feelings, his friends had complained in the past about how awful guest speaker assemblies were.

“Um, I don’t know.  You really think they’ll want to hear from me?” he asked hesitantly.

“A top eight from the Sports Festival who’s fought and won against multiple villains?  You could read the ingredients off the back of a cereal box and the kids around here would eat it up,” Stripes assured.

“Especially if you come in, guns blazing,” Cheat-A added.  “Before you speak, you’ll give a little demonstration of your quirk.  Super strength never goes out of style, does it All Might?”

“It certainly hasn’t yet,” he finally spoke.  Izuku felt a little better with him joining the conversation.  “And I believe you told me earlier that the selected student would have time tomorrow to plan out what they want to do and say, right?”

“That’s right,” Stripes answered.

Then he and Cheat-A asked at the same time: “So, what do ya say?”

Izuku thought for a moment.  He’d never really spoken before any group bigger than his class.  And this would be every student in Jakku.  And he would be in a position of relative authority.  But at the same time, if his words could reach at least one person, if they could avoid at least one injury, that would make it worth it.  Right?  He turned to All Might, who gave him a reassuring smile.  Then to the pros, who waited patiently for his response.

“Okay, I’ll do it!”

“Good man!”

“All right!”

The two heroes cheered for him and each patted one of his shoulders.  They bought him and All Might something from the American food stand, then went off to talk with the few locals who actually came.

“Do you know what this is?” Izuku asked about the food once they were out of earshot.  It was clearly something fried on a stick, but the smell was unfamiliar.

“It’s a corndog, popular at American festivals,” All Might explained.

“So, what’s in it?”  He broke off a piece to examine the inside.

“Meat.  Allegedly.”  He took a bite of his own and nodded.

“Okay…”  Izuku gingerly popped the piece into his mouth and immediately spat it into a napkin.  “Ugh, that’s awful, how can you eat that!?” he exclaimed at his mentor who seemed unfazed.

“That’s how you know it’s authentic,” he joked through a mouthful. 

They stayed on the bench until the festival ended and Izuku had to help clean up.  Until then, All Might relayed some of the local stories that the tour group had missed out on.  Whether people agreed to meet with him instead because he was famous or perceived as less of a target was unclear.  Even so, he ran out of anecdotes pretty quick, letting them sit in comfortable silence.  The plaza was on the side of a mountain, so they could see the entire valley from where they sat.  Or, they could have had it been lighter.  Mostly, it was just streetlights and rooftops silhouetted against them.  It was too cloudy to see any stars, but there were lightning flashes in the distance.  There was no thunder.

Chapter Text

The first years made it back to the lodge at one in the morning and had to wake up for patrols at five.  For Izuku, that hadn’t been any different than the night prior.  At this rate, by the time he was a full-fledged pro, he’d have a sleep schedule like Aizawa.  Not the worst outcome imaginable.  It was clearly doable, just not ideal.  Mineta relinquished the shower to him first and told him not to bother waiting up for him when he was done.  The teachers sent out a mass text warning everyone to wear something warm with their costumes.  Outside the window, the grass and bushes under the trees were covered in a blanket of frost.  The only thing he had was an old All Might hoodie.

Izuku was the third to arrive back at the picnic tables, after Iida and Tetsutestu, who roomed together.  The latter wore gloves, scarf, and a heavy jacket over his usually more exposed costume.  They stood around the lot awkwardly, as the benches were covered in slush.  Izuku couldn’t help but be jealous.  It took both his costume and jacket hood to keep the chill out of his ears.  His mask helped his face warm up a little, but that left his neck exposed.  He had thought about wearing a layer under his costume, but the weather report said it would warm up as the day went on, and he wasn’t sure if he would get the chance to change.  He'd have to talk to Hatsume about winter upgrade when they got back to school.

The teachers didn’t show up until almost everyone else did.  All Might wasn’t with them.  They had apparently been waiting inside the heated lodge lobby for the students to get ready. 

“Why didn’t you tell us that?  It’s freezing out here!” Kirishima accused.  Unlike Tetsutetsu, he hadn’t had the forethought to bring warm clothing.

Aizawa shrugged.  “Not enough room.”

Cheat-A and Racing Stripes were with them too, along with a group of what were presumably their sidekicks.  Each wore the same matching vest and khakis, so apart from one woman with moth antennae, their quirks weren’t obvious.

They divided the students into teams of three or four.  Teams had been chosen in advance and with purpose.  Izuku noticed quickly that every team had at least a ranged attacker, a physical hitter, and someone good at stealth.  On his team, that was Sero, himself, and Hagakure respectively.  They would also accompany a local sidekick or pro, and the few odd-numbered teams included one of their teachers.  They had Midnight and a sidekick called Pathfinder. 

The former and Hagakure had chosen to dress for the weather instead of their usual hero ensemble, or in Hagakure’s case a lack of one.  Midnight still wore her usual costume but wore a long coat over it and traded her heels for hiking boots.  Hagakure had added a heavy windbreaker and jeans in addition to her gloves and boots.  She also had fluffy, pink ear muffs.  Sero didn’t have anything extra to fight the cold, and they started moving before he could beg Yaoyorozu for something.

According to Pathfinder, they would be patrolling a trail near the base of a mountain on the town’s perimeter.  It served as a hub that connected several camping and hiking trails that went further into the woods.  Pathfinder would be able to detect if anyone had gone up the trails, and if so, they would check on them.  If not, they would keep moving until the hub met the road, at which time they would detour for breakfast.

“The road that divides the north and south trail hubs has a little diner right on it.  The group going down the north road will stop there too.  After we meet up and eat, we’ll await further instruction from Cheat-a and Racing Stripes.  Am I clear?” Pathfinder turned back and pierced them with a cold glare. His pale pink eyes never seemed to stop twitching.

“Yes, Sir!” the three students responded nervously.  Midnight just smirked.

“Oh, lighten up, will ya?  No need to bark at them, they know what they’re doing,” she defended.  She fell back a little to walk with them, letting Pathfinder get some ways ahead.  “Don’t mind him, he just takes his job very seriously.  But don’t worry too much, this is the best patrol route in town!”

“Why is that?” Hagakure asked.

“The diner at the end!  It’s called The Shake and it’s an old American style diner.  Did you guys eat from the American food stand last night?  Same guy runs the place.”

The unwelcome memory of the corndog resurged in Izuku’s mind and taste buds.

“Is it really that good?” he asked suspiciously.

“Heck yeah!  It’s been in their family for a couple generations and it shows.  They have euphoria-inducing pancakes down to a science.”  She threw her head back with an explicit sigh.  “We teachers draw lots as to who gets to go this route each year and I finally won!”

“What’s stopping you from going anyway?  Don’t the teachers get to go where they want for food?” Sero inquired.

“Yes, in fact we usually all go together on the last day, but it’s my favorite so I’m down for any excuse to go more than once.”  She kicked up her foot.  “I bought these boots just for the occasion.  You kids know I’m all about ‘impracticality is relative!  Heroes have a right to be efficient and look good,’ and all that, right?  Well this is where my line is.  My first year as a teacher, I went up this trail in my costume heels.  There’s a rocky section further up, and I ate absolute shit.”

Sero and Hagakure snickered.

“Were you okay?” Izuku asked.  She turned to him and poked his chest.

“Little boy, I do not throw around phrases like ‘I ate shit’ lightly.  I mean I twisted my ankle and rolled down a slope into a patch of briars,” she said with accompanying hand motions for emphasis. 

“Oh, that’s awful,” Hagakure giggled.

“It was.  Stripes had to carry me back down.  Actually, that part wasn’t so back.”  A wink.  “But since we didn’t have any healers on hand and it wasn’t bad enough for the hospital, I had to sit out all the fun stuff for the rest of the trip, surrounded by everyone else having a great time.  And what’s worse, I didn’t get to eat at The Shake until the very end, so I didn’t even realize what I missed out on!”  

Sero had to stop walking a moment he laughed so hard.  Hagakure held her stomach and leaned on Midnight.  Even Izuku couldn’t hold back a chuckle.

“Could you all pipe down?  Some of us are trying to work!” Pathfinder shouted back at them.

The revelry died down soon after. 

“Hey, Miss Midnight?” Izuku started quietly.  “Do you know what Pathfinder’s quirk is?”

“It’s called clairvoyance.  He can clearly see the movement trails of any living thing up to a day after it happened.  And, I hear, he can predict the paths of a creature in his direct line of sight to some extent, too,” she replied.

“Wow,” was all he could manage.  He wished he had brought his notebook.  Pathfinder was ideally suited for working in the mountains.  He could probably locate lost campers with ease.  He could probably keep track of animal populations to an extent as well.  But what was the limit?  Was it passive or did he need to activate it?  Did he see all paths at the same time, or did he need to focus on one at a time?  Could he even?  If he saw everything at once, then nature is still a good fit, less noise to-

“Woah, cool it, motor-mouth,” Midnight cut in.

He blushed.  “That was out loud, wasn’t it?”

“Yep,” said Sero.

“Anyone ever told you you’d be a great villain?  Because if I was captured by someone who did that, I’d tell them everything to get them to stop,” Hagakure added.

“Thanks?  I think…”  He looked to Pathfinder, who was unphased, walking several meters in front of them.  Izuku sighed.

Conversation was minimal for a while after that.  The crunch of frost beneath their feet slowly gave way to sloshing mud as it melted.  The silence was filled with the humble performance of nature.  The wind rustling frost from the pines.  The trickle of a stream just out of view.  All manner of bird calls that grew more frequent and numerous as the sun rose. 

At one point, they came to a break in the trees that gave them a clear view of the valley.  They were at a higher altitude than the plaza, so they could see that much further.  Clusters of orange and yellow trees snaked in between the evergreens.  Blue-ish frost covered the land and buildings that had yet to be touched by the sun.  The mountains caste long shadows over the valley that contrasted the still-lit street lamps and illuminated windows of people starting their day.  It was night and day all at once.  When the group came upon this view, they wordlessly agreed to stop for a moment, and just be.

That moment of awe was interrupted by another one.  Midnight quietly stepped over to where the students squatted on the gravel with a finger over her lips and pointed behind them.  They turned to the treeline.  Pathfinder was near the edge of the clearing making notes in his phone.  Izuku squinted questioningly, before he saw movement further up the slope.  A seemingly single mass of brown and white weaved between the trees.  He stood up and took a few cautious steps forward to get a better look.  It took him a moment to register the mass as a group of deer.  At least a dozen of them.  Their speckled hides were wet from padding threw the frosty underbrush.  When they reached the top of the hill, a single buck turned to look back at them, silhouetted against the rising sun through the trees.  Then he disappearing over the ridge with the others.  Pathfinder put his phone away and resumed walking.

“Well, that was pretty magical,” Sero said, breaking what had been almost an hour of silence.

“Aw, Sero!  You spoiled it!” Hagakure scolded.  She smacked the back of his helmet.

“What did I spoil?”

“The atmosphere!  It was totally magical until you had to point it out and ruin it!”

“I did not ruin it!  Midoriya, did I ruin it?”

“Oh, uh…”  He had still been gazing at the ridge to see if any deer lingered. 

“Whether or not you did, your bickering isn’t helping,” Pathfinder interjected.  Then he scoffed.  “You kids act like you’ve never seen a deer before.”

“I hadn’t,” Izuku spoke without thinking.  He flinched a little when all eyes looked to him questioningly.  “I-I mean, in the wild.  I’ve only seen them in a zoo…”

“Dude, you’ve never fed the deer at Nara?” Sero asked.

The shorter boy shook his head.  “Never been to Nara, period.”

“You’ve never been to Nara, you’ve never been to a town in the mountains; have you even been anywhere that wasn’t for school?” Sero teased.

“I mean, not really.”  He racked his brain for any memories, but nothing came to mind.  “I think my Mom said we went to visit my dad overseas once, but I was too young to remember anything…” he trailed off.

“Oh, no, sorry dude.  I didn’t mean anything by it.  I just, uh…”

“I’d stop digging if I were you.”  Hagakure put a hand on his shoulder.  Then she thankfully changed the subject.  “Do you guys want pictures?  You didn’t get your phones, but I did, and I got a good couple shots and videos of the deer!  Way cooler than anything from a zoo!”

“Well, those weren’t zoo animals, they were pests,” Pathfinder took back the conversation before more could be said.  “They have no natural predators out here, so they’re over populated and a danger to crops.  Part of my job is to track their numbers, so we can make calculations for culling season.”

“Culling?” all three asked, shocked.

“Yes.  Did you not just here me?  There’s too many of them and they’re a threat to local livelihoods.  They have no predators and there aren’t enough sport hunters to make a dent, so once a year, a few dozen are rounded up and euthanized.”  He said it like it was obvious.

The students slumped.  Midnight glared at Pathfinder, who rolled his eyes.  There were a few uncomfortable moments of silence before Hagakure asked the question on everyone’s lips.

“Do, do local heroes have to, you know…  Help?”

“Yes.”  No hesitation, no emotion, and the most sarcastic jazz-hands any of them had ever seen.  “Welcome to small-town heroism.”

They couldn’t recapture the serine silence of earlier in the patrol.  Izuku’s eyes kept wandering back to the trees in search of more wildlife.  Were there any other overpopulated animals that needed to be taken care of?  He didn’t want to ask.  Small towns definitely weren’t for him.

Pathfinder stopped them again at a fork in the trail some ways later. 

“There’s a few campgrounds up this ridge.  Three people went up yesterday afternoon,” he explained.  “Someone needs to go up and check on them.  Which of you is the most mobile?”

Izuku and Sero turned to one another, before slowly raising their hands.

“Hmm,” he examined them both.  “What are your quirks?”

“I-I stockpile energy tha-that makes me faster and stronger,” Izuku stammered.

“And I shoot tape from my elbows!” Sero said confidently.  “I can use my tape to swing aro-“

“That’s enough,” he interrupted.  Then to Izuku, “Just you.”

“Just me?” he exclaimed.

“Yeah, why just him?  I’m just as fast.  Heck, in training I’m faster!” Sero argued.

“And who’s going to clean up all that tape you leave behind, hmm?” Pathfinder countered.  Sero wilted under his gaze.  “I’m not letting you pollute my forest for such a simple errand.”

“Wait, why can’t we all go up together?” Hagakure questioned.

“Because there’s seven kilometers of trail straight up a mountain and we have a schedule to keep.”  Birds in the nearby trees fled from his voice.

“Still, I don’t think it’s right to send a kid so far off by himself,” Midnight tried to say.  But Pathfinder had none of it.

“Excuse me?  Was it not part of the agreement to allow U.A. to return here that you would all defect to our judgement?”  Izuku and the others winced.  “Besides, were you not the one who said not an hour ago that your students knew what they were doing?” he asked Midnight.

“…  Fine,” she relented.  “But if something happens, it’s on you.”

“Everything around here is on us,” he countered.  With authority, he stepped towards a tense Izuku.  “There are five campgrounds along the trail.  The hikers could be at any one.  You are to find which one they are staying in, confirm that all three are still out there, and question them as to how long they plan to stay out.  Then, comeback down and catch up with us.”

“Okay, what if they aren’t at a campground?” he asked.  Pathfinder looked like he interpreted the question as back-talk. 

“Find them,” was his answer.  Izuku swallowed.  Midnight was about to protest again but he cut her off.  “The trail up to the camps only goes one way.  The trail we are on right now circles the entire town.  Just go down if you lose them, simplest thing in the world.  If you get lost, it’s your own fault,” he sneered.  “Got all that?”

“Yes, Sir,” Izuku answered.  He turned to Midnight for final confirmation, and she nodded.  With a final wave to his classmates, he took off with Full Cowl.

It wasn’t quite the hike he had hoped for.  He bolted up the trail too fast to enjoy the scenery.  The heavy clanks of his iron soles disturbed the mountain’s peaceful ambience.  Flurries of fallen leaves swirled in his wake.  He spooked a few more deer in passing.  All the way up, he debated continuing on the ground or bouncing between the trees.  He needed the practice and it was faster, but the thin pines might not be able to support his weight plus the impact of One for All. 

The first two campgrounds were empty.  Izuku investigated both in detail to look for evidence of the hikers.  The melting frost muddied already day-old footprints.  The third had a view of the town, several hundred feet up.  It made him nauseous. 

The trail between the third and fourth sites had a steep incline.  The ground path had old wooden steps that even a five-percent jump would obliterate.  The whole reason he went up alone was to not damage the trail.  He had no choice but to leap to the trees.  Full Cowl started to take a toll.  Pillar-jumping up a slope was a new challenge, one that Izuku faced with frustrated determination.  He would eventually even-out his jumps subconsciously until he met the rising ground.  At least the trees held up alright.

The weight of the challenge dawned on him gradually.  He was one person with a whole mountain to search.  The hikers could be anywhere.  And what if something was wrong?  There was only so much he could do by himself.  Even if he did find them off the trail, if he had to go back for help, there was no guarantee he would be able to find them again.  One mistake could start a chain of events leading to irreparable harm.

Luckily, it wouldn’t come to that.  A magenta tent nestled in the fourth campground broke through the brown landscape.

“There they are!” Izuku shouted out loud.  The warm smell of what must be their breakfast carried over to him.  One of the hikers, what looked like a boy in high school, tended a skilled over a flame.  Smells like eggs on toast!  His stomach growled.  Oh, and I still haven’t eaten yet.  Maybe they’ll be nice enough to share…  He jumped down to level ground and slowed to a jog.  The boy looked to his approach.  “Good morning!  Wow, am I glad to see you!” Izuku greeted. 

“And who are you supposed to be?” the boy asked with an edge.

“Oh, I’m Deku, one of the visiting hero students.  Pathfinder sent me to check on you guys.  There are three of you, right?” he pushed on.  He is making eggs on toast.  A bit of rice, too.  I’ve never had it skillet-cooked before, I bet it’s good.  But it would be rude to ask.  Even if they offer I shouldn’t take it.  That’s theirs, and we’re getting food at the diner later.

“You, you’re one of the U.A. brats, aren’tcha?” he accused. 

“Y-yes?” he stuttered.  Didn't I just say that?  Why the hostility?

“U.A.?!” someone yelled from the tent.  A shirtless boy emerged followed by a girl with antelope horns.  Both were at least half a foot taller than Izuku.  Skillet-guy was too when he stood up.  He and the girl flanked him while the one from the tent faced him.  After looking Izuku up and down, he crossed his arms.  The atmosphere was suddenly tense.

“Look, I’m just here fo-“

“What’ve you got that we ain’t, runt?” Tent asked through a thick accent.

“Come again?”  Izuku responded.  He hadn't expected them to be confrontational.

“Y’all still fight robots in the entrance exam?”

“Yes, why?” 

“Hey, ain’t this the kid who fought by breaking his hands?” skillet-guy said before Izuku could.

“They let you in with something like that?!”  He spun around, exasperated.  “How many points ya get?”

“Uh, sixty, I think,” he replied.  He must have taken the exam too.  Judging by his tone, it didn’t go well.

“Six- Bullshit.  With broken hands, you got sixty points worth a takedowns?”

“Sort of.  Not really.  All of them were from rescue.”  Izuku wasn’t sure how much students who were rejected were told about the exam.  Maybe this guy never learned rescue points were a thing.

“’All?’” he mocked.  “You ain’t busted a single bot and they gave you that many?  They still let you in after you failed the one thing you had to do for the test?  Bullshit.”

“It wasn’t-”

“We was the best, ya know.  The hopefuls.”  He was in full monologue mode.  “Kiren can redirect projectiles, and Nagi’s horns are indestructible.  And me?”  He turned dramatically.  His skin began to pulsate.  Swirling colors and patterns made Izuku feel light-headed.  “People been sayin’ all our lives that we was gonna be the ones to make it big.  And the exam was where I was gonna prove it.  I put all my competition on the ground in seconds.  Ain’t nobody got in my way of tricking all the bots into beating each other.  One hundred points.  And they still ain’t let me in.  Know why?”

“No.”  Why is he telling me all this?  What does he expect me to do with this information?

“They told me, that even though I beat enough bots, my ‘poor conduct’ against my peers negated my score.  You know what I call that?  A conspiracy!”  His colors went wild as he jumped into Izuku’s space.

“A con-“

“Do you got any idea what it’s like?  Seein’ the best and brightest of the most famous school in the nation just stroll through your neighborhood every year?” he began.  Since Izuku hero-chased in the same city as U.A., he had an idea.  But he saw heroes every day even then.  To the locals, it must have been something special.  “Far back as I can remember, I’ve seen every kind a quirk march up and down them streets in every gaudy fashion disaster you can imagine.”  He paused.  “But ya know what I ain’t never seen?”

“What?”

“Someone I know.”  Izuku understood before he went on.  “Ain’t no Jakku kid ever been to U.A.  And every year, they come through to rub it in.”

Izuku backed up into the other two.

“I’m sor-“

“And this year’s crop is so extra special, villains have been drooling at your feet all year.  You’ve been gettin’ chances for glory on a silver platter every month.”  He grabbed Izuku’s hoodie.  “That should be us!”  The others grabbed his arms.

He knew where this was going.  A lifetime of conditioning from bullies told him to back down; maybe they wouldn’t be as rough if he gave in right away.  But nearly a year of training and proving himself in the field encouraged, demanded, Izuku to stand taller.  His arms were too thick for the lackies to get their hands all the way around.  Tent still had his costume in his grip, but couldn’t lift him.  He couldn't even shift Izuku off his stance. 

All Might’s inspiring words, not to the world, but to him, pushed him to talk back.

“I’m sorry.  There’s nothing I can do to help you.  The entrance exam is flawed, yes.  And your rejection may not have been fair.”  But I earned my right to stay.  You have no authority to try and belittle me.  “But I’m not the one ganging up on a random stranger who had nothing to do with it.  I don't think I'm even in your year.  Assaulting someone with a quirk will get you classified as a villain.”  In a brief moment of clarity as to how strong he was without a quirk, Izuku shook free of their grips like shaking off leaves stuck to clothing.  “Without, and the only thing that will be accomplished is putting attempted assault on your records.”  He spoke not with confidence or satisfaction, but knowledge of the objective truth that they didn’t stand a chance against him.  “How long do you plan on staying up here?”

“…  Until you punks leave town,” Tent relented.  The other two backed off and looked away.

“Thank you.  Enjoy your breakfast.”  And Izuku leapt away.

The round trip took forty minutes.  Pathfinder almost looked impressed.  Izuku left the confrontation out of his report as to not spoil the goodwill.  Questions about the supposed “Jakku conspiracy” were better left to friendlier ears.  Still, he felt weird about the whole thing.  Sure, he stood up to some guys who looked like they wanted to beat him up; a year or so ago he would have counted it a straight-forward personal victory.  But the feeling of personal growth fell away somewhat on the way back down.  Those guys, rude as they were, had a point.  Watching others succeed at your dream was terrible.  They probably went up the mountain to avoid those negative feelings.  And then Izuku barged in on their breakfast and told them to suck it up.  Maybe he had been too harsh.

“So…” Midnight interrupted his mumbling.  “Now that everyone’s here, have any of you started your art history projects?”

Izuku perked up to respond, but Sero beat him to it.

“Oh yeah.  I meant to ask: could we add a practical component to our project?  I wanna see if I can recreate some Spider-Man moves!”  He crouched and posed.

“You are not covering the classroom with tape,” Midnight responded, then clarified.  “If you want to take pictures or a video and include that in your presentation, that’s fine.”

“Hell yeah!”  His fist-pumped.

“But you also have to tie it back to how pre-quirk fictional heroes relate to current real ones, and use a specific story as an example.  Got any of that yet?” Hagakure pointed out.

“No,” he groaned.  “But I can’t be the only one to get move ideas from some of ‘em, so I’ll start there.”

“Sounds like a good start!” Midnight applauded.  “Hagakure?  You said something the other day about the Invisible Woman.”

“Yep!  Haven’t found a story yet, but I definitely know where I’m taking this!” she said with what sounded like a frown.

“Well?  Don’t leave us in the dark,” Midnight prompted.  Izuku nodded beside her.

“I think pre-quirk writers may have predicted that hero teams would be rare.  The Fantastic Four are constantly at each other’s throats in every other book I find of them!  It’s so frustrating!” she complained.  "Is it really that hard to work together?"

“You sure it’s every book?”  Sero nudged her side.

“It’s enough to notice!” she argued, batting him away.

Midnight laughed.  “Alright, alright.  Save the rant for the report.”  She turned to Izuku, who had been listening contently.  “I didn’t forget about you, bud.  How’s Superman working out for ya?”

“Pretty well so far,” he started.  “I figured since Superman was the first superhero ever, he started the Butterfly Effect that led to our hero society.  I found a great retrospective book that I’ve been reading, and I picked out a story.  It’s called ‘All Star Superman’ and it’s a stand-alone miniseries about – well, I actually haven’t started it yet and I didn’t want to look at spoilers, but it supposedly breaks the character down to his basic fundamentals and I’m doing it again aren’t I?”

The other three laughed.  Izuku blushed into his hands.  He kept the All Might angle to himself.

And the conversation moved on without him.  Sero was in the middle of describing his efforts to recreate a Spider-Man stunt when Midnight cut in.

“Hey, there it is!”  She pointed down to a chrome rooftop reflecting light through the trees.  “Home stretch, kids.  Let’s pick up the pace!”  She jogged in front and clapped her hands with each syllable.  The group followed down the bend, much faster than a jog. 

“Hey, let’s see who’s really the fastest,” Sero challenged.

“I’m in!” Hagakure chirped.

“You’re on!” Izuku accepted.  The path to the paved road was a steep decline, so the first part was mostly shuffling. 

Pathfinder shouted “No quirks!” as they passed. 

Midnight through her hands up in dismissal as she sauntered behind them.  Once they got to the bottom, it was between Izuku and Sero.  Without their quirks, it was close.  The former was arguably in the best shape out of the class, but the latter was taller and leaner, in addition to his lighter costume.  Poor Hagakure didn’t stand a chance.

Izuku and Sero were neck and neck.  The neon sign of the diner ever closer.  The smell of pancakes and sausages permeated the air.  It took physical effort not to let One for All flow in the heat of the moment.  Izuku’s iron soles clopped loudly against the pavement with each step.  They echoed throughout the otherwise vacuum of sound.  The noise was so loud he barely registered Pathfinder’s call to wait.  But by then, the two boys were already at the door.  Izuku touched the handle first and Sero conceded. 

Inside, the lights were on, but the place was deserted.  The sign in the door said they were open. 

“After you, oh victor!” Sero said, as he pulled it open and bowed dramatically.

“Thanks,” he smiled.  But as he walked it, a new smell hit him, and he winced.  A putrid, rotting stink that felt hot against his nose.  He went to cover it with his hand, then quickly put on his mask.

“What the hell is that?” Sero asked, his own mask down.  “Anybody here?”  No response.  “Sign said you were open, a-and the door wasn’t locked…”  Silence.

At the other end of the room, the kitchen door was cracked open.  Something wasn’t right.  Izuku stepped slowly past the chrome and red leather bar stools towards it.  The hum of the air conditioner was the only company to the sound of his footsteps.  That and the faint embers of One for All crackling in his ears as it practically begged to be activated.  A pit formed in his gut.

“Hello?” he called.  Still nothing.  He took another careful step towards the kitchen.  The stench burned his eyes and throat.  Despite the pain, his took a long, deep breath before pushing past the door into a fighting stance with one fluid motion.

Two men on the floor, covered in blood and feathers.  Dead.

Chapter Text

Izuku didn’t scream, not at first.  First, he inhaled sharply and stumbled back.  He fell into the corner of a metal countertop that hit him square between the shoulder blades.  It was enough to knock the wind out of him.  A few moments passed while he was on the floor struggling to get air into his lungs.  The hot, reeking air of decay clawed at his insides and made it that much harder.  Once he did, he looked back to the bodies.  Two men, one younger, one older.  Both surrounded by bloodstains and black feathers.  The skin nearest the floor was discolored almost bruise-like purple from pooled, no-longer-flowing blood.  The rest was sickly grey.  Blood covered most surfaces outside the bodies as well.  Not the bright crimson of fresh wounds he had come to know, but dark brownish-red of blood long since spilled and dried.  The older man laid on his back.  There was a deep, thick slash tough his stomach that let out his intestine, and a similar cut across his eyes.  The other, younger man was on his front, with a massive puncture wound that took up most of his back.  Izuku could see the bones of his spine poking through torn flesh.  Then he screamed.

He didn’t realize that the others had come inside until Midnight was helping him back to his feet.  Sero tried to help too, but his hands shook too much to provide much support.  Where had he been before that?  The two formed a wall between himself and the bodies.  The image still burned in his mind, however.  Outlines just barely there danced across his vision like spots from staring at a light source.  Once he was up, Midnight cupped his face in her hands. 

“Deku, I need you to listen to me.  Okay?  I know this is scary, but you need to listen.  We are still on duty.  I need you to go outside with Invisible Girl and Cellophane and form a perimeter around the building.  Us adults are going to make sure whoever did this isn’t still here.  Pathfinder already called the police, but we need you three to hold down the fort until they get here, okay?  Can you do that, please?”  Her bright blue eyes burned into his.  Her expression begged for his composure. 

He took a deep breath and swallowed what he could of his fear.

“Okay.  I can do that,” Izuku responded in a voice smaller than he meant to.

The morning chill blew through him.  They moved to three of the diner’s four corners, so they had a view of each exterior wall, as well as each other.  The back door was wide open.  Whatever killed the two people inside was still out there.  The thought made Izuku shudder.  What kind of person would to this?  What could make those sorts of wounds?  Was it a weapon or a quirk?  The only thing he had to go on were the black feathers.  He couldn’t remember anyone from the League with feathers, black or otherwise.  Maybe they had been bolstering the ranks.  Or maybe this was an isolated incident.  He scanned over the brush in front of him, then to the mountains above.  What had been so peaceful and inviting not fifteen minutes earlier was suddenly foreboding.  Whoever it was had plenty of space to hide. 

The chill wouldn’t go away.  It pierced down through his veins into his bones, like one of Todoroki’s ice blasts overtaking him.  Instead of freezing him in place, it made him shake until he couldn’t see straight.  No matter how much he tightened his jacket or rubbed still exposed skin, there was no relief.  The cold seeped from inside out.  He couldn’t breathe again.

Panic attack, his mind supplied as he hugged his torso.  He racked his brain in search of the steps to calm down.  He had been over this plenty of times, what was so different about this one?  Each effort at a breath burned.  After a minute that felt like an hour, he got clear enough to try and ground himself.

Who am I?  Midoriya Izuku.  Where am I?  Diner outside of Jakku, near mountains.  What can I see?  Bunch of trees.  Couple bushes.  Some grass.  There’s a flower over there.  What can I smell?  Stuff from the diner.  Bacon, pancakes, dec- No!  Not that!  He shook his head.  Focus!  Where was I?  What can I touch?  My jacket.  Can’t really feel the fabric through my gloves but it’s there.  Inside of my gloves are soft, Hatsume made them soft and comfy but my hands are sweaty now so I can’t feel it as well.  I feel sweat in my shoes too.  What can I hear?  Birds.  Leaves blowing in the wind.  My own hard breathing.  Sero heaving.  Wait, Sero?

He looked over to where the other boy was stationed and, sure enough, he had moved to the tree line to vomit in a bush.  Izuku overrode enough of the panic to call out to him.

“Are you okay?”

Sero straightened up and gave him a shaky thumbs up.

“How’s Hagakure?” he asked in an equally shaky voice.

“M’okay,” she answered.  Izuku turned to her.  She waved without looking at him.  He couldn’t read her expression under normal circumstances, but her voice sounded like she was struggling to hold it together.

It took the police ten minutes to get there after Pathfinder called them in.  He had done so immediately after Izuku and Sero first entered.  From a distance he saw the trail of the older victim, the diner’s owner.  He ran frantically from his car to the back door but never came back out.  Once Pathfinder got closer to the building, he saw a trail he didn’t recognize through the window. 

That was the extent of what the police told the students.  They questioned and debriefed them for a good few hours.  As if they weren’t mentally exhausted enough.  It was a familiar enough scene for Izuku.  He had been in similar spaces and asked similar questions after his run-in with Shigaraki.  Yet, this was different.  Back then, a crime almost happened, and he had almost been the victim.  This time, a crime had already happened, and there were two victims.  Strangers, yes, but so was the woman questioning him.  Although he didn’t know Detective Tsukauchi that well, his relaxed presence and the fact that All Might himself trusted him was reassuring.  This woman here didn’t quite put him off, but she didn’t really make him feel better, either.  She just kept digging long after Izuku thought that he had given her all he knew. 

No, he didn’t see anything suspicious leading up to the diner.  No, he didn’t see anything besides the body and the feathers.  No, he didn’t know the victims.  Yes, he ate from the American food stand at the festival, but someone bought food for him, so he never interacted with the vendor directly.  No, he didn’t see him again before he left.

Eventually, they released him from questioning, drained dry of energy.  It was only 10:30, but he was ready to turn in.  All he wanted to do was go back to the lodge, curl up under the covers, and cry.  No, what he really wanted was to go home and try to forget everything he saw.  A different officer escorted him to a backroom, empty save Sero, Hagakure, and a few empty chairs.  They looked up solemnly when he entered but said nothing. 

"Wait here until your teacher comes to get you," the officer ordered.  All three turned their gazes back to the ground once he left.  Izuku collapsed into the chair next to Hagakure and fiddled with his zipper.  The silence was deafening.  He could physically feel the tension in the air, thick and crushing.  Hagakure cracked it with a sniffle, before Izuku broke it entirely with a choked sob.

Tears fell, unbridled.  He and Hagakure whimpered and cried, while Sero leaned quietly into his hands, liquid dripping down them.  Then, he used his long arms to pull the other two into a hug.  His chin rested on top of Hagakure’s head, and he grasped at the back of Izuku’s jacket.  His forehead bumped the invisible girl’s lightly, his nose against hers.  Izuku opened his eyes to see tears pooling in the air and curving down what looked like nothing.  The pools shifted slightly.  A part of him realized that this was probably the first time he had really looked her in the eyes, even if he couldn’t quite see it.  Izuku sniffed, lifted his arms and wrapped one around each of his classmates, his friends.  Hagakure did the same and Sero held both of them a little tighter.

With all the crying, they didn’t hear the door open.  A fourth pair of arms held all of them, and a new set of sniffling joined the choir.

“It’s not your fault,” Midnight whispered.  “I’m sorry we didn’t prepare you for this…”  She carded a hand through Izuku’s hair, then went to rub his back, mindful of where it hurt. 

The comfort was minimal, but welcome.

Word traveled fast.  Their classmates flooded their phones once they left the station.  The three each sent a separate message to the group chat assuring that yes, they were fine, and that they were relieved of duty until further notice.  Midnight gave them their instructions on the ride back to the lodge.

“As much as I want to, I can’t stay with you,” she regretfully explained.  “Jakku is short-staffed as it is, and there’s a whole mountain range the villain could be hiding in.” 

In that moment, Izuku was very aware that the lodge was right on the tree line. 

“Are they sending anyone after the hikers I found?” he asked, throat still scratchy from crying.

“I think Stripes is already heading up there.  Thanks to you, we know where they are, so that shouldn’t be a problem.”

They could have moved, he didn’t say.

“As for you three,” she shifted back.  “I want you to pick one of your rooms, and stay together.  You are not to leave the property unless a hero accompanies you.  I don’t even want you going outside.  If you see or hear anything suspicious, you call the Jakku hero line or one of us.  Do not engage.  Am I clear?” 

They nodded.  Izuku couldn’t remember ever hearing Midnight sound so serious.

She sighed.  “I also want you to take care of yourselves.  Take a shower, change into something comfy, call your parents.  All Might’s on his way back, but I don’t know how long he’ll be…  I’m sorry.”  The police car pulled into the lodge parking lot.  She leaned back and rubbed her face.  “None of this is your fault, got it?  No matter what anyone says, you all did everything right.  This is just bad luck.”  The students said nothing.  With a final group hug, they returned to the lodge.

"This is bullshit," Sero hissed after the car drove off.  "It's not fair."

"What's not fair?" Hagakure asked.

"Shouldn't we be out there looking for the villain?  We're all trained and licensed for this exact thing!  Why are they dumping us back at the lodge?"  He tugged at his hair.

"I mean," the invisible girl began, "we're not really trained for in-depth murder investigating.  And they probably don't wanna send us out blind to fight whoever did this."

That reason made perfect sense, but there was a thought Izuku couldn't shake.  We're inexperienced and don't know the area.  We'd just get in the way of the people who do...

And so, they showered, changed, and met back up in Izuku’s room, where they sat together in haunted silence until his mother called.

“Did they tell you what happened?” he asked, slumped against his bathroom door.  His wet hair dangled in front of his eyes. 

“Not as much as I’d like.  Just that you found a crime scene that was above your level, so they sent you back to the hotel,” she answered.  “Can you tell me anymore?”

“We found two dead bodies in a diner,” he blurted out.  Mom gasped.  Better to rip off the proverbial band-aid.  Or rather the floodgates as he couldn’t stop after that.  “I-It was re-really bad.  Th-there was blood e-everywhere and they had been d-dead a long time.  Bones and or-organs were falling out a-and even though I-I showered f-for a long time I can still sme-smell it,” he whimpered.  His All Might jacket lay crumpled in the corner, also wet from Izuku scrubbing out bloodstains that weren't there.  I'm so pathetic.

“Baby, Baby, breathe.  Deep breathes.”  He complied, trying to anchor himself to her voice.  She waited a few moments to start speaking again.  “Do you want to talk about it?  I can call back later if you need a bit.”

“N-no, I wanna talk to you.”  One more deep breath.  “When they were q-questioning me, they made it seem like it was our” -my- “fault.  Not just like we failed as heroes, but we caused it by being here.  They didn’t want us to come because of all the villain attacks and now it feels like they were right…”

“Izuku,” she started.  “I know that you know that isn’t true.  Regardless of who they choose to blame, that doesn’t change the fact that it was not your fault.  You didn’t kill those people, a villain did.”

“But what if it is our fault?  We kept arguing with the sidekick we were working with and holding him up.  Then, whe-when I had to check on some hikers, they said all this stuff.”  He slid down the wall and hugged his knees.  “I could ha-have just left, but, but I stayed to tell them off too.  I-I made us take too long.  We might have caught the murderer leaving if we’d been the-there sooner.” 

“You don’t know that.”

“Still feels like it, though,” he sniffled. 

“I’d be more worried if you didn’t feel bad.”  He could almost hear the smile on the other line.  “They didn’t give you anything?  Aren’t they supposed to put you in front of trauma counselor, or something?”

“We weren’t the victims, we just found them.”  He whipped his nose.  Faintly, he was aware of Sero and Hagakure just outside.  He wondered if they had spoken to their families yet.  I'm a hero.  I should be able to handle these things besides.

“But still…”

“Besides, I’m pretty sure this place doesn’t have one.  This is the first murder case in four years.”  Every other officer commented on it.

Mom sighed.  “Is anyone watching you at least?  Who are you with?”

“Sero and Hagakare are here.  Miss Midnight was with us when we found…  Them, but she had to go back and help.  All Might is going to be back in a little while to watch us.”

“And where was he?”

“Dunno.  I think he went to the next town over to give a talk or something.”  He started tracing the grout with his fingers.  The bathroom floor was filthy.

“Do you know what’s going to happen for the rest of the trip?  Are they going to keep you kids out there with a murderer around?”

“I-I’m not sure.”  Izuku folded just a little more.  “I’d think people would want more patrols with a killer loose…  But, but if they think we brought it on them, they might want us gone sooner...  I don’t know.”

Mom was quiet for a second.  “Do you want to go back out there?”

“I, I don’t know.  I want to stop whoever it is from hurting anyone else but…  Just, the way the bodies were…”  He got quieter with each word. 

“Izuku, it’s okay to be scared,” she cooed.  “…  I can come and get you, if you want.”

“Huh?”

“If it’s too much, you can come home.  The school can’t keep you from me, not after this.  I can borrow my coworker’s car and be there by tonight,” she offered softly.

The day before, he would have declined right away.  An hour ago, he would have agreed without hesitation.  But in that moment, he had to think for a little while. 

“…  Th-that’s okay, Mom.  But I think I need to see this through.  I’m not going to go after the killer or anything, don’t worry.  But, I’d feel awful just abandoning Hagakare and Sero.  We have to stick together after something like this, you know?” he said with a half-laugh.  “Plus, I agreed to speak at a seminar for the local schools, so I can’t back out of that.”

“You can’t?  They’re not cancelling it?”

“Well, I mean, they’d probably give me a break, if it’s still going on, but I don’t want to go back on my word…”

“…  Alright,” she sighed.  “You do what you need to do, but the offer stands.  A-and don’t hesitate to call if you want to talk again.  Or if you need me to talk to you…”

“Okay, Mom.  I’m going to be okay.”

“You better.  Stay together.  Do what the heroes say.  Keep me posted.  Be careful.”

“I will.”

“And if you want, I’ll meet you at school when you get back.  Coming home for a bit will do you good,” she offered.

“I…  I’d like that.  Thank you, Mom.”  His tears had dried for now.

“Okay, I’ll let you go.  I love you, Baby.”

“Love you too.”

The pros never called them back out.  Izuku was conflicted as to whether that was a good thing or not.  On one end, he was grateful to be able to take a breather and not be worried about his abilities being compromised.  On the other, he would have appreciated the distraction.  He had to settle for whatever he could do in his room, which wasn’t much.  He read more stories from All Might’s book.  He did research for his Superman project.  At one point he tried to take a nap, only for All Might to walk in with lunch. 

“How are you feeling,” he asked all three of them.

They answered with noncommittal grunts.  Nobody ate much.

He pulled Izuku aside afterward to ask if he wanted to talk.

“No, thank you.  I’m okay.  I talked with my mom, and I think I just need time to process things…”

All Might understood.  He always seemed to.  He did the same thing after Sir died; he let his charge be until he was ready.  That time was worse in theory.  Sir’s wounds had been just as gruesome, if not more so.  Plus, he knew Nighteye personally.  They didn’t get along per se, but he knew him.  And there was the same feeling of ‘I could have prevented this.’  Yet, Sir had gotten last words.  He died accompanied by his apprentice and former partner, knowing that they had all been successful in his last outing as a hero, with a vision that said apprentice would continue to be successful after he was gone.  The two at the diner were murdered, then left to rot.  Did they die right away, or were they left to bleed out and suffer?  Did they get final words?  Final regrets?  Either way, they never got to say goodbye to their loved ones.  Izuku shivered at the thought.  He imagined Mom, waiting at school for him to get back, only he’d never come.  At least the last thing he said to her was, ‘I love you.’

The seminar would go on as usual.  They justified it with something about tradition and showing the villains Jakku wouldn’t be intimidated; the same song and dance as the Sports Festival after the USJ incident.  Izuku, Sero, and Hagakure missed the luncheon where the local heroes announced that plan as well as the other student speakers.  They didn’t even know there had been one until Aizawa came to collect Izuku for rehearsals.

“How are you holding up?” Aizawa asked once they had started walking.  The mid-afternoon sun cast long shadows across the road.

“Better, I think,” Izuku responded.  “I took a nap and talked to my mom a bit.  I’m okay.”  His teacher nodded subtly.  “What are the others doing while we practice?”

“Chores mostly.  Raking leaves, picking up trash, that sort of thing.  Sero and Hagakure are going to help with some craft fair at the elementary school later,” he said flatly.

“That sounds nice.” 

He hummed.  “You can join them, if you want.”

“Huh?”

“You don’t have to participate in the seminar,” he clarified.  “If you’re not feeling up to it.”

“…  What happens if I don’t?”

“You rejoin your group for the rest of the day and tomorrow you’ll sit with your classmates who aren’t speaking during the seminar.  No one will say anything about you dropping out,” he assured.

Izuku kicked a rock down the path.  Admittedly, he had some misgivings about the seminar going on at all.  Time and resources were better spent catching a loose criminal.  As much as he didn’t want to be face to face with a murderer, he’d do so in a heartbeat if it meant bringing whoever it was to justice.  But there was no guarantee the others would feel the same, and it would be wrong to force them into that situation.  Being a hero isn’t just about stopping villains. 

“Thank you, Aizawa-sensei, but I’m going to participate.  I already said I would.  The whole point of this trip is to engage with the community, and going forward with the seminar at all is meant to reassure them that everything will be okay,” he finished with a smile.  Aizawa eyed him quizzically.  “Besides, my speech is about overcoming personal limits and being stronger for it.  Giving up now would make me a hypocrite.”

“Funny.  From what Stripes told me, your speech was about knowing where your limits are and learning to take better care of yourself,” he countered. 

Izuku shrugged.  He didn’t need to be coddled.  I’m okay, he told himself.  That being said, he didn’t wear his costume for the rehearsal.  It smelled weird.

It was well after dark by the time he and the other speakers got back.  Sero and Hagakure had long since cleared out of his room, leaving Mineta laying on his bed as he messed with his phone.

“Hey,” the shorter boy greeted.

“Hey.”  Izuku slumped past him to retrieve pajamas from his suitcase.  “Do you want the shower first?”

“I already showered.  We all got back from night patrols a while ago.”

“What time is it?”

“Almost ten,” he said, then put his phone down.  “You okay?  Sero filled me in on what happened…”

“M’okay,” Izuku mumbled, before retreating into the bathroom.  He took a much longer shower than he needed to.  A part of him felt like he could still smell the diner.  I’m okay.  The water was hotter than he usually liked it, too.  Anything to burn the stink away and melt the chill that still clung to his bones.  His skin was wrinkled and red by the time he emerged.  I’m okay.

First thing he did after leaving the bathroom was make a beeline for the window.  They were on the second floor, so it didn’t open, but he checked all the same.  He forced himself to do so without directly looking outside, afraid of what he might see.  I’m going to be okay.  Once he had made sure it couldn’t open, he yanked the curtains shut with a little more force than necessary. 

“We can switch beds if you don’t wanna be near the window,” Mineta offered.

“I’m okay,” he responded, also with more force than necessary.  He turned around to fall into bed but paused.  On top of his pillow was a little rabbit plush.  It was green and had patterns reminiscent of his costume, including red feet and white paws for his shoes and gloves.  It also had a giant smile like his first mask.  “What’s this?” he asked Mineta, dumbfounded. 

“Yaoyorozu came by while you were in the shower.  She made something for Hagakure and Sero, too,” he replied.

Izuku couldn’t help but smile.  It was a little weird to have a mini version of himself, but he didn’t mind.  The fur was velvety, and when he squeezed it was the perfect balance between squishy and firm.  He took a picture with his phone and sent it to the class group chat.

Me: Thank you, Yaoyorozu!  I love it!

Yaoyorozu: You’re welcome!  I’m glad you like it 😊

I wasn’t sure which animal you’d want, and the teachers were telling me to go back for curfew, so I just made a bunny like your costume.

Hagakure: Oh. My. Goodness that’s cute!

Uraraka: Aw, I’m jealous.

Me: Mineta said that Sero and Hagakure got something too.

Sero: Behold: Slagathor, the Unburning!

Hagakure: This is Princess Sprinkles!

The two sent pictures at the same time: Sero had an orange and black gecko the length of his arm while Hagakure had a sparkly pink chameleon with a felt crown.

Sero: Kinda hoped we were three for three with reptiles, but bunnies are neat.

Yaoyorozu: I wanted to make sure you guys ended the day with something positive.  You seemed really out of it at rehearsal, Midoriya.

Me: You don’t have to worry about me, but thanks again!

Uraraka: Are you sure?  The sidekicks didn’t tell us much but it seemed back

*bad

Kirishima: Yeah.  You were in questioning a long time and if Tokoyami’s anything to go by they weren’t nice

Me: Wait, what happened to Tokoyami?

Sero: Yeah

Jirou: He got pulled from the group after patrols for questioning.  Didn’t come back until right before lunch.

Sero: For what?

Jirou: I’m not sure but he didn’t say much

Me: There were black feathers at the crime scene

Mina: What?!

Jirou: Well that explains it.

Yaoyorozu: Were there really?

Sero: I think so.  I didn’t see much Midnight didn’t let me look

Hagakure: I never actually went inside…

Mineta: But if they let Tokoyami go that means hes clear right?

Yaoyorozu: I assume so.  If he’s not answering he’s probably asleep.

Mineta: Whos rooming with him?

Kirishima: Somebody from class b I don’t have their number

Me: We should let him be then

Hagakure: ya I’d really rather not talk about this anymore

Sero: agreed

Mina: So…  How long have you had the Deku design in mind hmmm?”

Me: Huh?

Mina: Yaomomo~

Yaoyorozu: I don’t know what you’re talking about.

Mina: You said just this afternoon that you had trouble coming up with specific colors and patterns on the spot, which means you’ve had the formula for making a Deku plush already planned out. 

So what’s up?

Hagakure: OOOOH

Sero: Called out!

Aoyama: Do you…  Like him~?

Yaoyorozu: No, it’s not like that!

Hagakure: Oh, really?

Mina: Then what’s up?

Uraraka: yeah whats up

“Lucky bastard,” Mineta hissed from the other side of the room.

Izuku blushed hard.

Yaoyorozu: Alright.  Full disclosure: I’ve been working on a personal project to design plushies for everyone.

Mina: Cool.  Why?

Yaoyorozu: Well, it started out as an idea for Christmas gifts, but it’s turned into something I think I could use in my hero work. 

Like, after I rescue a child from something scary, I could give them a plush animal based on their favorite hero to help them feel better!

Hagakure: Wow, that’s a great idea!

Yaoyorozu: Thanks!

Kirishima: And it works, don’t it?  How are you guys feeling?

Me: A lot better than this morning.

Sero: Seconded.

Hagakure: Mine’s not even me and I feel all warm and fuzzy 😊😊

Uraraka: So, wait.  Which animal is everyone?

Yaoyorozu: I haven’t designed everyone yet.  Again, I was planning to get them done by Christmas.

Kaminari: So who do you have so far?

Yaoyorozu: Well, Midoriya is obviously a rabbit.  Tsuyu is a frog and Tokoyami is a crow, of course.  And I think Hagakure makes a good chameleon.

Hagakure: No complaints here!

Yaoyorozu: So that leaves Jirou the bat, Kirishima the shark, Kouda the turtle, Kaminari the mouse, Shoji the octopus, and Todoroki the fox.

Jirou: Rad.

Kaminari: Wait, why am I a mouse?

Jirou: Because Pikachu is copyrighted.

Kaminari: …Fair.

Kouda: Shoji is asleep, but I would love to be a turtle!

Mineta: What would I be?

Jirou: a rat

Sero: One of those bubble-headed goldfish!

Mina: Soooooooo…  Is nobody gonna mention that she just called Todoroki a fox?

Yaoyorozu: OH MY GOD MINA STOP!

Sero: Ooooh, all caps.  You know she mad.

Kaminari: Miss Prim and Proper never uses all caps.  Something’s up.

Mineta: Nice.

Yaoyorozu: ENOUGH

Hagakure: Todo, I see you online are you gonna say anything!?

Todoroki: Have you decided what animal you want to make yourself?

Kirishima: Dude.

Kaminari: Did you not read what just happened or are you really that dense?

Yaoyorozu: WHAT a good question, Todoroki. 

No, I have not thought much about which animal I would be. 

Do you have a suggestion?

Todoroki: I think you would make a good horse.

Jirou: What?

Kirishima: Dude, there must hve been a better way to phrase that.

Todoroki: Like this.

[Image: Friesian horse]

Todoroki: Because it’s tall and has long black hair like you.

Yaoyorozu: I like it.  Thank you, Todoroki.

Todoroki: And they’re popular among rich people, and your family is rich.

Mina: ASDFGHJ

Hagakure: OH MY GOD.

Sero: Whoosh.

Mineta: Oof.

Kaminari: Todo, my dude, my guy.

Sero: Ya had her man.

Yaoyorozu: OKAY.  I’m going to bed.  Goodnight everyone.

Mina: No wait Momo come back!

Yaoyorozu: What?

Mina: You might have to drop the fox.  Pretty boy is not sly.

Todoroki: Why do I have to be sly?

Izuku sighed with a smile.  The events of the morning were still fresh in his mind, but in that moment, they felt just a little further away.  Just further enough that he was able to drift off without much issue.  With his new rabbit-him tucked close to his chest, he thought one last time for the night:

I’m okay.

Chapter Text

The students awoke the next morning to reports of stolen food.  Patrols would be concentrated closer to town on behalf of local concerns.  The sidekicks at the morning briefing didn’t seem worried, though.  They whispered to each other that people were just paranoid about a murderer, and thus over-reacted to a housemate lying about who ate the leftovers.  Either way, it was enough of a reason to keep a bunch of kids away from the woods where the actual danger was.  That was the unspoken suspicion among the U.A. students.

Izuku still didn’t have to go on patrols.  Only this time, he was back to rehearsing for the seminar in a few hours.  From his own class were Iida and Yoayorozu, and from class 1-B were Kendo Itsuka, Tsunotori Pony (the American girl with horns), and Kamakiri Togaru (a boy with insect-like jaws).  It would be held on the high school track field, and every student from each school level and many parents would attend.  At least in theory.  A decent chunk would probably be no shows.  Between the presence of a murderer, and the fact the U.A. was still a target, it was understandable some would ditch.  Heck, it was a wonder they didn’t cancel the whole thing. 

“At least that means less people to embarrass ourselves in front of if we mess up,” Kendo reasoned.

“But the whole event is going to be recorded and uploaded to our school’s and the town’s websites for any and all to see,” Iida remarked.  A shudder went through the group.

But that was only half the source of Izuku’s worry.  He had been jumping from movement in the corner of his eye all morning.  Usually, it was just Iida or Yoayorozu.  Speaking of them, he felt more and more that he owed them for not bringing up the crime scene.  There was an unspoken tension there, one that got tighter as the morning progressed, but they kept their mouths shut about it.  When they did speak, it was about the performances.  He made an internal promise to sit everyone down and answer all their questions.  It would just have to be later, when he had his thoughts together.

Their classmates arrived around the same time locals started piling in the stands.  U.A. had its own set of bleachers on the opposite side of the field.  Uraraka managed to convince Izuku to eat some fruit she brought for him.  He hadn’t realized how hungry he was until he took a bite out of a banana.  After that, he practically inhaled the orange slices she offered as well.  She didn’t ask anything either.  He added her to the mental list of people he owed.  What had he done to deserve these friends?

The seminar started at 10:30 sharp.  There were fewer gaps in the stands than had been anticipated, but that was in part due to opening up the event up to people who weren’t students.  Which was strange, considering recent events.  One would think that they would want to be extra tight on security.  But maybe they were.  It was a small town where everyone knew most everyone else after all.

Izuku and the other headlining students were a relatively small part of the seminar.  The first half consisted of talks and performances by locals.  Racing Stripes and Cheat-A opened things up with a quick speech about the history of their agency and thanking the town for letting them set up shop fifteen years prior. 

Then, there were a series of skits about quirk safety from groups of elementary schoolers.  Izuku recognized Niji from the day before and gave him a little wave when he looked in his direction.  The boy waved back enthusiastically, and almost missed one of his lines for it.  The moment didn’t stand out much; most of the younger performances were a little choppy.  Izuku was nonetheless embarrassed on his behalf. 

Next came speeches by middle schoolers about a broad range of quirk-related topics.  Many were about coming to terms with having a volatile or ‘useless’ quirk.  Others were about their aspirations to become heroes.  One kid combined the two, declaring her intent to become a hero despite her less than flashy night vision.  Kirishima applauded extra loud for her.  The last middle schooler was a spotted, horse-headed boy, who must have been Racing Stripes and Cheat-A’s son.  Hanten was his name.  His speech took the opposite route: he planned to go into art despite outside pressure to follow his parents’ footsteps.  Said parents could have made up the whole crowd they cheered so load.

The last act of the first half were the high schoolers, and they made their presence known in a big way.  Each individual grade gave a choreographed performance that showed-off several quirks at once.  The kids on the mountain were not isolated in their low opinion of U.A.  None of the three speakers were shy about how many of them had been rejected from hero programs as they introduced each grade.  The controlled chaos that followed was nothing short of impressive.  Laser blasts, elemental control, shape-shifting, high jumps; all manner of impressive quirks went off perfectly timed to the music, often sharing the same space. 

It filled Izuku with awe, and then something like guilt.  The prior speeches had been largely positive, but this exciting display had a hit of melancholy.  They clearly worked on those performances for a long time and had to do them together.  He and the other headliners were to perform alone after barely a day of practice.  Their sorry display was to follow hero course rejects putting their all into what they had.  He couldn’t help but wonder why they had been rejected; if he had taken a spot that otherwise would have gone to them.  At the same time, it was a challenge: let’s see if ‘real’ hero students can top this.  The hikers came to mind.  Izuku wasn’t sure if he could, but he was sure going to try.

The second half was where U.A. came in.  A faculty member spread out some sort of artificial turf that he could manipulate for the students to perform on.  It was another testament to the locals’ level of practice; they didn’t need it. 

While he set things up, Present Mic kicked things off with a speech that bordered on a stand-up routine about juggling pro hero life, teaching, and being a radio host. 

“And so, on those days when I feel like I’m being pulled apart in three directions, I look to the thing that unites all my careers: that I get payed to yell at people,” he closed.

The crowd roared with laughter.  That was the student headliners’ cue to get in position.  Uraraka pulled Izuku and Iida into a group hug as they stood up and gestured for Yoayorozu to join them.

“Break a leg, you guys,” she whispered.

“Thanks,” Izuku replied.

“Not you, you’ll take it literally.  You can knock ‘em dead!”  She released her grip and high-fived them all as they walked off. 

The class 1-B kids went after a short intro from Bloodking.  As class representative, Kendo went first.  Izuku could feel the gusts of wind he generated with her giant hands from behind the stands.  A screen on the edge of the field displayed what they couldn’t see.  Her speech was about her struggles with femininity in relation to having an ‘ugly’ quirk.  She had grown up believing that her hands were gross and weird, but later realized how much they could potentially help people.  She wrapped up and the crowd cheered, but the high school section was noticeably quieter.  Kamakiri grumbled at their lack of support for his classmate, though with his mandibles it sounded more like clicking.  The others followed his indignation, Yoayorozu especially.

“I can’t believe she would put herself out like that, only for people to give her such a rude response,” she huffed. 

“I mean, they did say that a lot of them were rejected from hero courses…  It probably feels like a kick in the face to bring in people living their dream to talk about struggling,” Izuku interjected.  Even though the hikers weren’t in the crowd, he still felt their sneering presence.  The quirk seminars of his past came back to mind as well.

“That may be the case…” she continued.  “But Kendo is still out friend, and it still hurts to see her received so coldly.  I had no idea she was going through that…”

“I didn’t either,” Kamakiri admitted.  “Kendo’s the class big sister.  We all look up to her, so I can’t say I’m surprised she’d want to look more together for us.”

“Well, that means you guys are going to have to be more supportive of her after this,” Iida added.

“That’s the plan.”

Tsunotori’s routine was next.  She ran and thrashed on all fours and used her horns to carve massive ruts in the ground.  At the end, the ruts spelled out her name in western cursive.  Her speech was a little shorter and shakier than the others, which made sense given what it was about.  She spoke of her struggles as an American in a Japanese hero course.  Although she herself grew up in America, her ancestry was in Japan, and she wanted to combine those two parts of her upbringing in her hero persona, which lead her to U.A.  Poor girl looked like she was going to topple over from embarrassment by the end.  But she held it together long enough to bow and skip off the stage back to her class.  The cheers seemed better that time but were not to Kamakiri’s standards.

His own performance was simpler.  He went down a line of objects, from wooden planks to an old car, and cut them clean in half with the blades that sprouted from his skin.  The speech was equally straight forward.  He had a quirk that made him look like a giant bug, and since most people don’t like bugs he didn’t have many friends growing up.  Then he came to the hero course and made lots of friends.  He also improvised a dig at the crowd.

“No matter what struggles they face, no matter who puts them down, I will stand by my class, my friends, until my last breath.  Thank you for your time.”  He didn’t bow before he left.  Iida winced.

Aizawa introduced class 1-A with the same piercing tone he used at the press conference after the training camp.  The one that bled confidence in his students and challenged all who disagreed.  He must have picked up on the hostility too.  Izuku wasn’t surprised he had noticed, but he was surprised that he cared enough to react.  The thought added another set of conflicting feelings to the emotional soup he had been swimming in all morning.  On the one hand, hearing a rare instance of Aizawa vocalizing his praise felt like a direct injection of confidence.  On the other, there was that much more pressure to not screw up.  The tight smiles on his friend’s faces was enough to know that they felt the same. 

Iida was so enthralled that he almost missed his cue to go on.  The routine was to be the shortest of the six.  He quickly cycled through each of his gears and demonstrated a few of his techniques.  At one point, he zig-zagged across the field, drifting as he changed direction.  His control was impeccable.  He closed with a recipro-burst round kick towards the crowd.  It generated a heavy gust of wind like Kendo, only in a single, much hotter wave.  Had he not been sitting down, the force might have knocked Izuku over.  Instead he just cheered.  In contrast, Iida’s speech was the longest.  He focused mainly on his position as part of a legacy; he came from a long line of heroes and was the next link in the chain.  The way he spoke was full of the exuberant pride he was known for, until he brought up his encounter with Stain. 

“As you can imagine, it didn’t end well.  I was half a semester into my hero training and my judgment was blinded by emotion; how could I have stood a chance against a killer that had felled countless of my betters?  To be frank, it was only by chance that other heroes, real heroes, found me before he struck the final blow,” he said somberly.  The crowd was dead silent, completely absorbed.  “I did not go after Stain with the intent of preventing him from doing more harm, but to chase the vain possibility that hurting him would bring me some illusion of closure…  This is not the case.  True closure can only come when I can finally live up to that ideal of a true hero.  One who can overcome his own feelings to do what is right.  For the people, and for fellow heroes.  That is the ideal I strive for.  That is ‘Ingenium.’  Thank you!”

Izuku was one of the first to applaud.  Yoayorozu followed suit.  Their classmates chanted Iida’s name as he rejoined them.

“How am I going to top that?” she asked with a voice caught between joking and sincerity. 

Her entrance was subdued, but the performance quickly escalated.  First, she made a few fans that blew towards the audience.  Wind was apparently a theme that day.  Then, there was an explosion of color.  She created a menagerie of cool and colorful objects that scattered around the field and into the crowd.  Paper airplanes, balloons, and kites showered dozens of smiling faces.  Her finishing move was a giant cannon that shot series of daytime fireworks straight skywards.  She opened her speech by holding up a notebook, each page packed front to back with chemical formulas, to the camera. 

“This is just for what I made today,” she said.  “I can create virtually anything with my quirk, but I need to know the chemical compound first.  Everything, right down to the individual color, has a widely different formula.”  After further explaining the work that went into using her quirk, she turned it into a metaphor for the perception of heroes.  “When I first started going to U.A., I had a lot of trouble with my self-confidence.  I was surrounded by people with amazing quirks that they excelled at using.  And here I am scrambling to remember all the components of plastic…  But the more I got to know them, the more I realized that everyone, even the pros, have something like that.  They may not have to memorize chemicals but did have to practice the aim of a laser, or the temperature of their fire.  Maybe they have to spend grueling hours at the gym to maintain specific muscle mass or go through dozens of types of food to find the one that recharges their quirk the fastest.  Everyone has a process to get to where they are that most people don’t see.  And it isn’t fair, to them or yourself, to assume that they are just naturally better than you at what they do.  You can’t judge your own journey based on other people’s highlight reel,” she concluded to uproarious applause. 

Hearts successfully won.  All Izuku had to do was bring it home.

Aizawa returned to the stage, and Izuku ran back down the path behind the bleachers as far as he could.

“And now, for our final student presenter.”

Hood and mouth guard on.  Costume still smells kind of weird…  No!  Focus!

“When the year first started, I considered him a liability more than a potential hero.”

Gloves fastened.  Feet in position.  Iron soles tight. 

“The keyword here being potential.  Despite numerous shortcomings, he always managed to keep his potential just above zero, allowing him to remain in the hero course where stronger have failed.”

Activate Full Cowl.  Have to time it perfectly.

“You may recognize him as one of the top eight in the previous Sports Festival, a position he reached with minimal use of his quirk.”

It’s just like practice.

“Since then, he has faced and won against several high-level super villains, in some cases singlehandedly.”

Deep breath.  In, and out.  Anxiety, excitement, and One for All electrified his skin.

“His classmates often default to him for guidance, on and off the field.”

Aizawa-sensei is really playing me up…  Why did I have to go last?

“And yet, his character has consistently shown the humility, fortitude, and kindness necessary of a true hero.”

I’m okay.

“This is Deku: The Hero who Never Gives Up.”

Start running.

“Midoriya Izuku.”

Jump.

He leaped clear over the two-story high bleachers.  Gasps of aw followed by whoops and wows overtook the audience.  At the peak of the arc, he started spinning.  The electricity of Full Cowl encircled him and left a spiraling trail of light in his wake as he fell.  Had he not been wholly focused, he might have maligned the performance not being at night.  Before he hit the ground, he let off a blast of air from his finger, sending him flying further.  He spun around again so he landed crouched down facing the crowd, dead center of the field. 

But he wasn’t done.  The pause was momentary before he began phase two of the routine.  He stood up and slammed his right foot into the ground with enough force to rattle the bleachers.  Then the other one.  He uppercut the air to his right, then his left.  The shock-waves tore up turf and sent it flying in either direction.  Next, a single blast flicked over the audience’s heads.  A direct hit might hurt someone.  Hats, papers, and props from Yoayorozu’s routine were blown back hard.  A series of quick flips and kicks followed.  He made sure to land harder than he would normally to send more waves through the turf.  Then he went into suicide runs down the field.  He couldn’t drift like Iida, but he could turn on a dime without losing speed.  Oh, how he wished someone like Cementoss had set up some elevated terrain, then he could really show off.  He was almost sad to end it; rehearsal hadn’t been nearly this fun.  The audience’s reactions definitely pushed it forward.

Full Cowl felt a little different too.  A little warmer, just enough for it to be noticeable.  The sensation was hard to describe.  It was like the comfort that lingered under his skin after Mom hugged him, or All Might messed with his hair, but all over his body.  Izuku imagined the sparks that flew off him as the anxiety from the past day being expelled out.  This was one of those rare times where One for All truly felt like a natural part of him, his own.  And he savored it.

This is mine, he thought as green light trailed in his wake.  This is me.

For the final act, Izuku jumped straight up as high as he could.  Bursts from his fingers pushed him to almost three stories.  It felt higher than practice.  And then, he let himself free fall.  He could just hear the cries of wonder and worry from the crowd over the buzzing in his ears.  In the last moments, he pushed One for All up against his limit to obliterate the turf beneath him in one final kick.  One moment he was just above the ground, the next, he knelt in a waist-deep crater.  Churned turf flew in every direction.  Someone used a force field quirk to protect the audience.  Said crowd was silent.  Steam escaped his mouth guard as he exhaled heavily.  Then he climbed to the rim of the crater and raised his fist.

There wasn’t a single person sitting after that.

It was frankly embarrassing the difference in volume between the cheers for him and those for his peers.  They had been just as good, if not better.  Definitely less sloppy.  Everyone else had control and technique; he just flailed around for two minutes.  But speaking objectively, his quirk was the flashiest of the group.  Suddenly his position as the last to go made sense.  The thought that a showy quirk melted the cold reception rather than the wisdom and vulnerability of his friends made him uncomfortable.

Those were Izuku’s thoughts while he walked to the stage.  Aizawa patted his shoulder as he ascended the steps.  That was the extent of his praise, but it was icing on the cake that had been his introduction.  Looking out, there was barely a tenth of the Sports Festival’s attendance present.  Tons of people would see it afterward online though.  He swallowed.  Kicking up some dirt was one thing; the speech was another.  Said dirt was already back in place by the time he reached the mic stand.  One more deep breath.

I’m okay.

He was until he took his hood and mouth-guard off.  The scattered cheers were lost in a sudden gripping sensation that momentarily cut off his other senses.  His stomach dropped so hard that it was as if he was physically hit by something.  Wind was knocked from his lungs.  The initial feeling of pain was quick, but the sense that something was wrong lingered.  He looked around and realized everyone was waiting for his to speak.  No, I am not having another panic attack right now.  I can do this.

“Uh, ha, sorry about that.  Needed to catch my breath for a second.,” he said after clearing his throat.  A few people chuckled.  In…  Out.  “Good morning, everyone.  As, Aizawa-sensei said, I’m Midoriya Izuku, and I’m a first year in U.A.’s hero course.  Bu-but I guess we all are…” he began nervously.  “S-some of you might know me as the kid who nearly ripped his own fingers off with his own quirk in the Sports Festival.”  More laughing.  Laughing is good.  “The, the reason that it hurts me is t-twofold: i-it’s a stockpiling quirk with a major kickback, so I have to be in good physical condition to wield it without being ripped a-apart.  Which means I have train almost constantly and be on a pretty strict diet…  Doesn’t help that I’m kinda small to begin with.”  He rubbed the back of his neck.  The uneasy feeling hadn’t gone away.  “The other reason is that I haven’t had it for very long…  I was quirkless right up until the U.A. entrance exam.”  Murmurs of disbelief spread through the crowd.  Izuku waited a bit; half for them to quiet down, half to try and beat back the unease that built within him.  “My body hadn’t had the time to adjust to my quirk the way m-most people do.  That, in tandem with its already heavy tole, caused my quirk to break my bones when I used it.  I-I’ve gained some control since then, but not before facing consequences…”

He took off his glove and rolled up his sleeve just as he had done on the first day.  This time, his scars were displayed on the field screen, and later whoever decided to watch the recording.  While Izuku had never been particularly self-conscious about his scars, he didn’t exactly show them off either.  Anyone he spoke to out of costume saw his crooked hand, but few besides his closest friends and mother had gotten a good look at his whole arm.  Not even his teachers, besides All Might, had seen the full extent of them.  It felt natural to show the group of kids in order to impart a lesson.  Even during rehearsal, it hadn’t felt like a big deal.  But as gasps rung throughout the field, the anxiety in his gut evolved into full-on dread.

“The…  The little scars aren’t from the fights th-themselves, but from surgeries to try and put me back together afterwards.  If you looked at an X-ray of my arms now, the bones have some scars too, because they had to take some smaller pieces out completely…  And now, they’ve been hurt so much that I’m at the risk of paralysis if I break them again,” he parroted.  Sweat trailed down his back.  Another heavy pull at his chest.  This time, it didn’t fade.  Something sharp dung into his back.  Slowly.  “But I’ve taken steps to prevent that.  The school support department put bracers in my costume, to lessen the strain on my arms.  And even then, I don’t use them as much in fights any more.  Now,” -his knee shook so much he couldn’t lift it to pat the gear- “I mostly use a kick-based fighting style.  I’m still getting used to it, but, but it’s worked out so far.  Especially thanks to tutoring from Iida.”  In the original speech, Izuku planned to turn back to his friend for applause, but found he couldn’t.  The audience still clapped at least.  Almost done.  Power through.  “The lesson here is that all actions have consequences, even if they’re not immediately obvious.  And they can build up over time.  I acted foolishly by jumping into fights way out of my league with a power I could barely control, and now I’m paying the price.  So, you should think before you act…  A-and don’t break your bones at the problem.  Th-thank you,” he closed with a tone that was a pale imitation of the confidence he displayed two days prior.  He bowed and turned to leave on autopilot.  The audience’s reception didn’t matter, he just needed to get away.

Relief from the dread didn’t come with the end of the speech, nor leaving the stage.  Instead, it only choked him further.  By then, Izuku realized that whatever it was, it was worse than the panic attack the day before.  His head pounded from the inside out.  There were rocks in his gut and ice in his lungs.  Something writhed and clawed at the inside of his chest.  He imagined a vice closing slowly around his heart; each passing moment it grew closer to bursting. 

Sweat mixed with unshed tears clouded his vision.  He was supposed to go back to his seat with the others when he was done.  Instead, he went straight past.  Once he was out of sight from the field, he ran.  It didn’t matter where he was going.  He just felt the compulsion to get away.  Shaking legs carried him behind a shed, which upon reaching he collapsed onto his knees.  Then he threw up.  Violently. 

It wasn’t until his stomach was empty that air returned to his lungs.  Another few wretches of bile before he felt a hand on his back.  So gentle it was barely there, it rubbed small circles up and down, between his shoulder blades and along his spine.  He flinched when they brushed over the spot where he hit the counter, and the fingers moved away.  It didn’t banish the dread completely, but it grounded him just enough.

Whoever was with him sat there quietly for a bit.  The only noise that of his shaky breathing and another speech in the distance.  Said distance wasn’t actually that great, Izuku realized when enough of his sense came back to him.  The shed was less than thirty meters from the U.A. bleachers.  He hadn’t even made it all the way to the other side.  Hadn’t been there that long either, as Aoyama and Aizawa were just walking up.  None of his friends would have waited to go get help.  That much he was coherent enough to know.

One second, they were just turning the corner, the next Aizawa’s hand was on his forehead. 

“Definitely warm, but I wouldn’t call you feverish yet,” he said, mostly to himself. 

Aoyama was already at his side opposite Uraraka.

Oh, she must have been the first hand…  First full thought and it was that.  Progress is progress I guess.

“I’m not going to bother asking if you’re okay, because clearly you’re not.  And I don’t want to hear any arguments that you are,” he warned.  “Panic attacks are serious enough, and this seemed pretty severe.”

“N-no,” he choked out.  “Was different.  ‘Ve had panic attacks before.  H-had one yesterday, after we f-found…  Th-this w-was different.  It was more…  Physical.”

“Panic attacks are physical, kid.”

“I know, but…  It…  I-it was way more intense than anything I’ve felt before.  A-and it was sudden.  Usually I can feel it coming, but this hit me instantly, as soon as I started speaking…”  His eyes drifted down to his shoes.  At some point, he sat down a bit away from where he threw up.  Had he moved or been moved?

“B-but you held it together really well on stage,” Uraraka chimed in.  “We didn’t realize anything was wrong until you didn’t come sit with us.  N-not that we weren’t paying attention, you just looked a little nervous, and you’re always kind of nervous an-“

“That's enough,” Aizawa chastised.  Then he moved Izuku’s head a bit to examine it.  “Did you hit your head recently?  An unchecked concussion may have worsened your symptoms.”

“Don’t think so,” he answered, more embarrassed than anything else.

“How do you feel now?”

“Still queasy, but better.”

“Can you stand?”

Izuku did so, Aoyama moving quickly under his right arm to support him.  Uraraka followed suit. 

"Don't use your quirk on him," Aizawa directed her.  "Don't want him getting any more disoriented."  She nodded.  And he lead them to the local school nurse.

Recovery Girl she was not.  In the less than three minutes she took to examine him, she spoke only in necessity and with a cold, clipped tone.  By then, Izuku had felt enough himself to ask her if she had some sort of quirk that helped her make quick diagnoses.  Questions that were ignored.  Said diagnoses was an acute stress reaction.  Panic attack.  Nothing out of the ordinary to worry about, no more questions, please.  She did, however, uncover the massive bruise that formed where he hit his back.  She gave him an ice pack and kicked them out.

"Aizawa-sensei?" Izuku ventured as the group walked back to the stands.

"Yeah, kid?"

"Has anyone from Jakku ever gotten into U.A.?"

"I'm not supposed to disclose that kind of information to students," he huffed.  Izuku wilted.  "I can't speak for the others, but I've never had a Jakku kid in any of my classes."

Slowly, the dread returned.

Chapter Text

The feeling of dread never went away. 

Not during the meet-and-greet session after the seminar. 

Izuku’s friends hovered around him, keeping the crowd from overwhelming him completely.  They might have trampled him otherwise given their numbers.  His showcase was by-far the most popular.  No one seemed to notice that he’d almost passed out on stage.  All the kids from the little meeting the other day plus at least a dozen more along with their parents bombarded him with questions.  Some middle and high schoolers too. 

In the midst of the mob, something slammed into his leg.  Izuku was about to jump away, before he looked down into a familiar set of rainbow eyes.

”Hi Niji, you scared me,” he greeted.  Niji released his leg only to jump and wrap his arms around his neck.  Izuku flinched, then reluctantly hugged him back.

”Deku!  That was amazing!” the little boy cheered.

“Thank you, I’m glad you liked it.  You did well, too.”

”Kaito, let the poor guy breathe,” a man scolded.  Niji complied, then stepped back to stand alongside him.  The man introduced himself as Niji’s father, then his mother and grandfather.

”It’s nice to meet you all,” Izuku said with a bow.

”I must say, young man,” Mrs. Niji began, “I didn’t think much of you when Kaito showed me your picture.  But that performance was really something.”  Her eyes were similar to her son’s.

”I’ll say!  Those stomps made my teeth chatter all the way at the top of the stands!” his grandfather complimented.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been that close to a quirk that powerful.  Probably the closest we’re going to get to being next to a smash from All Might these days, eh?” Mr. Niji said.  Izuku blushed terribly.

”Thank you, but that’s too much,” he mumbled, unsure of how to feel about the comment.

“Hey Deku, we’re going to go get in line for lunch.  Are you good here?” Uraraka asked, tapping him on the shoulder.

”Huh?  Oh, yes I’m okay.  You guys go ahead,” he answered.

”We’ll get something for you, don’t worry.  Au revoir~,” Aoyama chirped as they turned to leave him to face the group alone.

It wasn’t a problem until they brought up the murders.

“Well, I hope you stick around at least.  One of those kicks of yours could probably punt that villain clear over the mountain,” an older man said.

“Oh, yes.  I sure hope that maniac was watching,” Mrs. Niji continued.  “Bet he wouldn’t have pulled anything if they knew we had this kind of power in our corner.”  The small group of adults surrounding him laughed.  Niji too.

”Yeah, I bet you could beat up the bad guy so bad their arms would fall off!” he cheered.  “Bet you’d do a better job than Stripes or Cheat-A.”

”Hey, don’t say that,” Izuku tried to argue.

”But they’re just glorified park rangers.  That’s what everyone at school says.”

”Honestly, he’s got a point.  Those Safari folks are all fine and good for making sure people stay safe in the mountains, but I wouldn’t describe them as ‘peacekeepers.’”  Mr. Niji bumped Izuku in the shoulder.  “You kids have probably seen more villain action than them.”

“Hell, if you came to work out here, we’d probably never have crime again,” someone behind him said, and smacked his back.  He had to bite his tongue to suppress a whimper.

They had no idea he’d been there.  The public statement to the town hadn’t included student names.  Izuku knew there was nothing he could have done, but each compliment chipped away at that thought. 

They were wrong about his skill.  The only villains he’d beaten single handedly were Muscular and Gentle.  Everyone else he had some sort of help.  Even those two weren’t really alone.  Muscular had him on the ground but Kota distracted him long enough for Izuku to get back up.  Gentle just surrendered.  And people here thought he could be their own personal Symbol of Peace based on him jumping high a few times.  He was a fraud.  Dread churned his chest.

He kept expecting the hikers to appear and call him out.  Izuku hadn’t heard any updates about them.  Since they planned to camp outside of town to avoid U.A., it seemed unlikely they would come to the seminar.  But the memory of their accusations sandwiched his self esteem between the Niji family’s uncomfortable praise.  What did he have that they didn’t: a more popular quirk.

The compliment firing squad lasted a little longer until Midnight rescued him.

“Ha ha, you guys are gonna have to wait for all that.  We’ve still got him for a few years,” she joked dismissively with the crowd.  She placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and steered him away.  “Meet and greet’s almost over.  Every one of our kids has something to share!  Don’t just focus on the presenters!”  She gestured for those who didn’t get the message to move along.  Niji hugged his leg again.

”You’ll come work here when you graduate, won’t you?” he begged.  

“...  I’ll keep you all in mind,” he forced through a broken smile.

Midnight led Izuku to a quieter spot before she asked how he was holding up.

“Okay, I think.  Just a little crowded,” he muttered.  “…  They think I could’ve stopped the killer.”  

Midnight tensed, then sighed.  “Bunch of hicks don’t know what they’re saying,” she grumbled under her breath.  “Strong quirk or not, we’d never send a kid, let alone a first year, alone after someone like that,” she said to him that time.  “Don’t even have a grief counselor…”  They sat on a nearby bench.

“But, but I wasn’t a victim,” he countered.

“So?  You found a crime scene.  A bad one.  Hero or civ, adult or kid, that sort of thing can mess you up…”  She looked him over for a moment.  He debated telling her about the things said about the local heroes, but decided he didn’t want to be the catalyst for any more drama.  “Aizawa told me what happened after your speech.”  So much for that.

“M’fine.”  The grass at his feet was suddenly very interesting.

“You sure?  You’re a little pale,” she said, putting a hand to his forehead.

He pushed it away.  “Did he tell all the teachers?”

“No, just told me and All Might.  Me because I saw what you saw and he thought I could help talk it out with you.  And All Might, well, you two are close.”  There was a smile in her voice.

Izuku shrunk into himself.  All Might was signing autographs on the other side of the field.  Between people, he scanned the crowd, concerned.  He’s looking for me.

“H-hey, did you know there was a rumor that he was your dad?” she asked with humor.

“Ugh, that got to the teachers?” he groaned.

Midnight giggled.  Then soberly, “You sure you’re alright?”

Izuku didn’t answer.

Not during the free afternoon after that. 

Izuku skipped lunch again.  Though his stomach was mostly settled, he didn’t want to risk it.  Instead he sat at his friends’ table and pushed rice around with his chopsticks.  Every once in a while, he popped one or two grains in his mouth.  Nobody said anything beyond congratulating him on his speech.  Then the praise shifted to Iida, and the conversation went on from there.  Again, he was going to need to treat them to something for giving him space.  And then answer questions.  Although that date may have gotten pushed back.

They never got to go to the secret pond.  With a killer on the loose, it was safer to have the students stay within the town limits.  They rented out the local gym’s indoor pool as a compromise.

Izuku wasn’t really in the mood to swim, either.  His back hurt, he had embarrassed himself in front of who knows how many people, and the image of the diner victims was still fresh in his mind.  But the teachers weren’t going to let him hole up in his room by himself and he wasn’t going to ruin someone else’s fun by getting them to stay with him.  So, he parked himself in a far corner of the pool deck and watched the recordings of the seminar on his phone.

He watched everything from the U.A. portion, in some cases more than once, before finally forcing himself to watch his own.  Objectively, he did fine.  But he couldn’t help but pick out everything wrong.  Spoke too fast here.  Didn’t speak up enough there.  There’s the point where the second wave of pain hit.  Every time his hands were in frame you could see them shaking.  If he sped the video up, the color draining from his face overtime was obvious.  He checked the comments to see if anyone else had noticed. 

“Brave kid to admit his failure in front of so many people.”

“Wasn’t he in that video about Stain?  Did he not want to overlap topics with the fast kid?”

“Oh no he’s cute!”

“They let a self-destructive punk like that get into U.A., but my daughter’s bone claws with ZERO side effects aren't good enough?”

Most were like that.  There were also several comments from Hatsume advertising herself as the main designer of his new gear.  The rest didn’t stand out. 

“Got some juice for ya,” a voice interrupted his moping.  A spotted, horse-headed boy stood over him offering juice pouch.  Cheat-A and Racing Stripes’ son Hanten, he remembered.  “The spooky scarf guy said you didn’t eat lunch and to give this to you.”

”I just watched your speech, it was good,” Izuku blurted.  Hanten recoiled.

”Really?  Didn’t expect to hear that from one of you guys,” he shrugged.

”Us who?  Why?”

”Hero kids.  My whole thing was how I can’t relate to you people.” 

“I mean, yeah, I don’t really get it, but it was still well-said.”  Hanten’s speech discussed how he felt broken for along time since he lacked the call to heroism everyone around him, including his parents, built their lives around.  He didn’t experience anything traumatic like Kota, he wasn’t spiteful like so many villains, he just wasn’t interested.  Izuku couldn’t imagine not having that burning desire.  Despite the speech’s quality, he wasn’t much closer to understand that perspective.  Maybe that was something else he had the others lacked: overwhelming, stubborn ignorance to doing anything else.

Hanten walked back to his parents with a friendly smirk.  Cheat-A whispered something to him that made his face fall.  Probably something about the murder.

Every once in a while, someone would invite him to join in on an activity, to which he declined.  He had a hard time focusing on anything that wasn’t the constricting cold inside him.  Izuku tried briefly to get into an Uno game, but kept zoning out.  If only he could just relax.  Sero tossed a ball around with Kaminari and Sato.  Hagakure sat on Mina’s shoulders chicken fighting with Tsuyu and Uraraka.  They were playing and having fun, so why couldn’t he? 

The border between the town and forest was nearly a kilometer away, but Izuku still worriedly watched the window.  Every little twitch of a shrub or shifting shadow drew his eye.  Frozen fingers weaved between his ribs.  The logical part of his brain knew he was safe.  He was surrounded by pro heroes and thirty-nine elite hero students.  Even the League of Villains would struggle against such a unified group in one place.  Everyone would be okay. 

But what if…

Not while he waited to board the bus early the next morning after a long, cold, sleepless night.

Izuku was one of the first people ready to go, having foolishly believed that doing so would get them on the road faster.  Instead, he sat on the curb in darkness for a good hour waiting for the others.  Aizawa kept watch nearby.  All the while with a too-clear view of the woods behind the lodge.  The light from the building just barely reached the first row of trees.  The few illuminated trunks striped the abyss like the bars of a jail cell.  Wind shook the branches and bushes; the movement and noise would disguise any ambush.  The same wind ran right though Izuku, though he could barely distinguish the chill from the one he’d been feeling for almost a day.  Despite the dark, the outline of the mountains was clear against the starry sky.  He suddenly felt very small.

Despite knowing it would only make him feel worse, he checked for news on the murder investigation.  Only official update was the identity of the victims: Watahashi Hibiki and Takuya.  Father and son.  Their family had owned and run the diner since the second generation of quirks, after an ancestor was inspired by his frequent trips to America via a teleportation quirk.  They left behind no immediate family, but a devastated community in which they were a beloved fixture.  Most of the article was comments from friends about the loss and speculation as to what will become of the restaurant.  Nothing about who or what killed them. 

His research was briefly interrupted by being allowed to get on the bus.  Izuku took the first row behind the teachers.  Closer to the door, quicker he could get off.  The other students passed in silence.

A local hero-chasing forum wasn’t much better.  Instead of the hoard-like network of fans armed with their own findings Izuku was used to seeing, this seemed to be three or four guys passing around the same scraps he had just looked over.  Another limit of the small town.  There were a couple bits of speculation, but it was limited to trying to connect the murders to the missing food.  Clearly, they were working on less information than he had.  Specific descriptions of the crime scene hadn’t been released, only that the men had been stabbed.  Nobody mentioned feathers.  But there was something else at the very bottom.  A fifth guy commented that he overheard a cop talking about a disemboweled deer at the edge of town and asked if that could be related.  The other denizens of the forum dismissed it.  Izuku didn’t.  Pathfinder said the deer didn’t have any natural predators, and why would a hunter just leave a carcass to rot?  But then, why would the murderer?  They did that to the two men.  Were they a crazy person like Muscular who killed for fun?  Or, maybe they were trying to throw the heroes off or set a trap?  What if-

“Hey,” a low voice said, shaking him from his rambling.  All Might stood over him in the aisle, just barely illuminated by the streetlights outside the bus.  The shadows cast by his gaunt face were even more pronounced than normal.  Someone less used to his appearance might have been more afraid.  “Is it alright if I sit with you?” he asked when Izuku didn’t answer.

Izuku shrugged and went back to his phone.  He heard a few of his mentor’s joints crack as he sat.

“Finished the book you gave me,” Izuku whispered after a while.

“Oh?  What did you think?”

“S’good.  You were right about the other stories being kind of dark.  ‘Sound of Thunder’ was still the scariest.”

“Do you have a favorite?”  All Might prompted.

“Liked the one with the endless rain.  And the one about a guy with wings,” he mumbled.  “Can’t remember the names.”

“I know the ones you’re talking about.  Both are good,” he responded quietly.

The footsteps of the last few stragglers filled the silence.

“Want it back?” Izuku asked.

“Hmm?”

“Your book.  Do you want it back since I’m done?”

“You can hold onto it if you want.”  All Might slouched a bit.

“For how long?”

“However long you’d like.”

He looked up to his mentor.  “You’re giving it to me?  Why?”

“I want you to have it,” he said through a smile.

“But it’s yours.  And you said you reread it a lot,” he whined.

“Over the years, yes.  But you’ve only read it once.”  He chuckled again at Izuku’s exhausted, lost expression.  “Besides, I have most of those same stories at home in English, remember?  Plus, I think most of them are free online.  It isn’t like I’ll never be able to read them again.  You don’t have to worry about me…  But,” -a sigh- “I can understand if you don’t want to hold on to a reminder of this trip…”

Izuku let his face fall into the pillow on his lap.  “I hate it here,” he said, too quietly for All Might to hear even if his face hadn’t been muffled.  Then louder: “I don’t think small towns are for me.”

“I don’t blame you.”  He put a kind hand on his shoulder. 

“I know…”  A few moments passed.  “Hey, All Might?”

“Yes, my boy?”

“When we get back to campus, may I please have permission to go and visit my mom?  Maybe overnight?” he all but begged.

“Of course,” he replied with a reassuring shoulder squeeze. 

“Thank you.”  Only then did Izuku lift his face from the pillow.  He moved said pillow against the window, so he could rest his head on it while he looked out.  Cold dread still coated his insides.  The darkness obscured most of the trees.  The slightest movement, real or a trick of the mind, drew his tired eyes.

And suddenly Aizawa was in the middle of speaking, but Izuku had never heard him start.  He perked up to listen.

Then a street in town was out the window.

Then some houses.

Then they were suddenly going past the rice fields outside of town. 

Okay, this is annoying, he thought.  He must have been falling in and out of sleep.

Then it happened again, only there was a blanket around his shoulders when he woke up.  The blanket was tucked around him tightly to keep him in place.  He turned to ask whose it was, when his vision cut to the floor of the bus in front of their seats.  All Might held his forehead, having caught him mid-doze.

“Sorry,” Izuku managed through a yawn.  “I keep nodding off.”

“I know.  This isn’t the first time I’ve had to keep you from falling out of your seat,” he chuckled.  He pulled him up a little.  “I take it you didn’t get much sleep.”

“Not really.”

“And I doubt it was because you were too enthralled with reading or research.”  It was almost, but not quite a tease.

“No.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“…  No.”  An icy grip strangled his heart.

“Alright.  You will need to talk to someone, though.  It doesn’t have to be to me, it doesn’t have to be today, but you will need to talk to someone about what you saw…”  All Might reached out to touch him.  “Trust me, bottling it up will only make things worse in the long run.”

“I know,” Izuku spat, but immediately regretted it.  His teacher withdrew his hand as if he physically lashed out at him. 

“Do you want me to move so you can lay down?” he asked hesitantly.

“No, it’s okay.  M’sorry.  Just really tired.”  And everything hurts...

“I know.  It’s alright…”  He reached out again, this time resting his hand on top of his student’s head.  

Izuku closed his eyes, only to be jolted awake facing the floor again.  He grunted in frustration.  It was going to be a long ride back if that was going to happen the whole time. 

All Might caught him again, but didn’t deposit him back by the window like he expected.  Instead, he used his other hand to grab the pillow and set it on his lap before laying his student’s head on top.  Then he pulled the blanket back over him. 

“How about this?” he asked softly.

“…  Okay,” Izuku breathed.  He shifted his legs to be more on the seat.  Between All Might not taking up much room and his own small frame, he didn’t have to curl up too much.  It was nice.

His teacher reached over him down into his backpack.  He delicately pulled out the bunny plush Yaoyorozu made him and tucked it under Izuku’s arm.  Finally, he rested his hand on top of his back.  It was different from when Uraraka and Aoyama rubbed his back the day before, but he wasn’t sure why.  Maybe it was because he was a little firmer, or that his large hand splayed across nearly the full width of his back.  Whatever it was, it lulled him into closing his heavy eyelids.

Like a popped balloon, the tension in Izuku’s chest released all at once.  The ice in his veins didn’t melt, it vanished.  His heart was no longer strangled.  His lungs could finally take in a full breath.  As if his body was celebrating, he involuntarily inhaled with a sharp gasp.  The bruise on his back throbbed; he had been so caught up in his dread that he hadn’t noticed how much it ached.  Yet this too, felt like mercy.  His exhales were still shaky, but with overwhelming relief rather than fear.  Tears followed. 

“Shh, it’s alright, my boy,” All Might whispered.  He carded a gentle hand through his pupil’s hair.  The other remained on his back over the blanket.  It didn’t take him long to notice where the bruise was and avoid it.  “I’m here.  I’ve got you.”  Izuku curled up tighter, hugging the stuffed bunny to his chest.  Hiccups interrupted his breathing.  “I’m here.  I’ve got you.  It’s going to be okay.”

They stayed like that for a while.

Chapter Text

It seemed like the best-case scenario at first.  The black mist could have sent them to any one of the facilities, but it sent Tsuyu to the flood zone.  Correction, it sent her several meters above the flood zone.  Enough to hurt when she hit the water.  She had no choice but to recover quickly.  After scrambling to grab Mineta, she climbed to the deck of the boat.  Her classmate was in a state of panic.  Internally, she wasn’t much better off.  

Aquatic villains surrounded the boat.  Their quirks were occasionally visible  as they circled.  Shark fins, spines, and who knows what else poked out of the water.  ‘What else’ was a water manipulation quick that sliced the boat in two without warning.  The villains didn’t board the wreck, content to let the kids come to them.  

Tsuyu and Mineta stayed aboard for as long as they could.  Water pulled what was left of the boat down so the bow stuck straight up.  The students stuck to the top with their quirks, too scared to speak.  Another unnatural wave attempted to knock it over.  It sunk faster.  And more were coming.

Tsuyu panicked.  On instinct, she grabbed Mineta with her tongue and rode the momentum of the tipping boat to jump over the cluster of villains.  While in the air, she pulled him closer.  She tried to tell him not to let go, but nothing came out.  But he got the message, and wrapped his arms and legs around her neck and torso.  Hitting the water hurt again.  She didn’t dare look back.  There was no way they could take all of them.  Swimming was harder with another person, but she still booked it harder than she ever had.  The shallows of the artificial lake were within reach.

But it wasn’t enough.  The shark-fin villain flanked her.  He swam head-first into her side.  The hit disoriented her; for a moment, she couldn’t tell which way she was facing.  It was a moment too long, as another villain swam from behind and plucked Mineta right off her back.  Before she could reach for him again, a third villain pulled her deeper by the foot.  The depth pressure squeezed her head and chest.  Struggling made it worse.

Her foot was freed not through her own effort, but the villain letting go.  She tried to swim towards the light when she was kicked in the hip.  Then the shoulder.  Then the stomach.  One after another, villains pushed her deeper.  Every few hits knocked air from her lungs.  The water that replaced it burned.  Above her, the bubbles she expelled refracted light and blood that wasn’t hers.

I’m drowning, was the only coherent thought she could manage.  Her legs stopped moving.  She wanted to cry.  I’m drowning!  Someone help me!  I’m drowning, I’m drow n  i   n    g     I    m       d      r         o

It was a minor miracle she didn’t scream when she woke up.  Her heartbeat rang in her ears.  Tsuyu panted heavily as she looked around.  Reality registered slowly.  It was just her room at the dorms.  She was safe in her bed at school, the USJ incident months behind her.  Everyone was okay.  She was okay.  Every breath she took felt like a blessing as tears flowed down her cheeks.

Her first instinct once her thoughts were in order was to call her mom.  Mom always knew what to say.  But them she looked at the clock: 4:15 a.m.  Mom and Dad were probably still asleep.  And they’d have to go to work almost immediately after getting up.  They didn’t get enough sleep as is, so bothering them wasn’t an option.  Maybe she could get a hold of them around dinnertime.

Going back to bed wasn’t an option either.  If she tried to settle back down now, she might oversleep.  Sure, she could set an alarm, but that was a gamble considering how heavy of a sleeper she could be.  And there was no guarantee she would actually get to sleep.  The dream scared her wide awake.  Lingering jitters would probably ruin any efforts to relax for a while.

After sulking on her bed for a bit, she decided to go downstairs for an early breakfast.  Food would do her some good.  Hopefully, someone else would come down before she had to get ready for class.  Maybe they would be willing to listen to her.

She should have expected that Midoriya was down there already.  Tsuyu knew he got up crazy early to train, just not quarter-to-five early.  He sat at the table with his legs crossed, phone out while he passively chewed a granola bar.  Then it crossed her mind that maybe he couldn’t sleep either.  Barely a week ago, he had seen the aftermath of real death.  Not some trick of a dream, but real people whose lives had been cut short.  Pretty violently, too, according to Tooru.  But Midoriya didn’t speak about it and nobody asked.  He’d been a mess the day after and on the bus; she was pretty sure most everyone had heard him cry even if they didn’t say anything.  But he seemed to be okay after he came back from visiting his mom.  He was eating and talking again at least.  But he tended not to be the most forthcoming person when it came to his own feelings.  

He jumped when he saw her, slamming his phone faced down as he tried to regain his balance on the chair.  Tsuyu wasn’t sure if this was normal-Midoriya jumpy or still-getting-over-a-traumatic-experience jumpy.  She apologized for starting him either way.

“ Oh, no, it’s fine.  It’s fine.  That was on me.  I was just getting ready to go jogging.  Nobody else is usually up this early so you surprised me.  S-so what’s up?  Is something wrong?” he rambled.

And so Tsuyu came to a dilemma.  Her natural impulse was to say how she felt.  That was her personality.  She knew talking would help, and that Midoriya would be more than willing to listen.  He was arguably one of, if not the most empathetic person in the class.  Lots of them went to him for help with personal stuff.  But was that really fair now?  He was in the middle of dealing with his own thing, and she had no clue how he was coping.  It wouldn’t be fair to dump her issues on him.

“You, uh, want some breakfast?” he offered, shaking her from her consideration.  

“I can get it myself, but thank you,” she replied.  Cereal was retrieved in uncomfortable silence.  

“Are you sure you’re alright?” he prompted after she sat down.  She left an empty chair in between them.  

“I had a bad dream…” her traitorous mouth blurted.

“Oh…  Do you, want to talk about it?”  The sincerity of his voice threw her off, even though she was pretty sure he always sounded like that.

“No, it’s dumb.  Besides, you actually saw something, mine didn’t really happen.  It isn’t fair to make you worry about me too…”  It was a weak dismissal and they both knew it.  Something she didn’t recognize flashed across his face before he responded.

“I mean, I’ll probably worry anyway.  Kind of what I do.”  He smiled and rubbed the back of his neck.  “Plus…  I’ve been talking to All Might and Hound Dog about, you know, and they both said: sometimes it helps to help.”  He finished with an even bigger, brighter smile.

“Okay, ribbit.”  She took a moment to collect her words.  “It was about the USJ.  I know we’ve all had something like that but…  This one, for me at least, was different…”

“Different how?” he asked after she didn’t speak for a moment.

“Well, in most of the other dreams I’ve had before, they either relived memories of what happened, or something going wrong that’s different from what actually happened…  But those usually dealt with Shigaraki or the Noumu.  One of them getting Aizawa-sensei or All Might-sensei,” she said, then added, “Or you , ribbit …”

“I’ve had those too,” Midoriya interjected during another pause.  “So, what changed?”

“This one took place before that, in the flood zone.  Me and Mineta were on the boat and the villains were sinking it, and we tried to get away…”  Tsuyu took a long, heavy breath before she continued.  “I couldn’t swim fast enough.  They took Mineta from me and ripped him apart , ribbit.  Wh -when I tried to go after them, they pulled me deeper.  Way deeper than even I can go without equipment.  Then, they kept swimming by and hitting me, one after the other, harder and harder.  Each hit knocked air out of me.”  She was whimpering now.  “They…  They were drowning me…”  Tears flowed with new vigor.  Midoriya scooted towards her.  “Water,” she sniffled.  “Water has always been my e-element, my safe place, ribbit.  It’s were I go to have fun and relax…  I-I’ve never even…  R-really thought about dr-drowning before!” she sobbed.  “It felt so real!”  

Midoriya took one of her shaking hands in his own.  It was warm, and kind.  Tears looked like they threated to spill from his eyes as well.  Some of the tension loosened.  He always had a way of making her feel better, even if it was just a little.   That’s when it hit her.  Midoriya hadn’t been in the dream at all.  In real life, he gave them all the confidence boost to move.  He made the whirlpool that sucked up the villains and propelled them forward.  He inspired Mineta to attack with what little he had.  Midoriya saved them.

She relayed this new perspective to him.

“What?  No, I didn’ t really do that much!  You’re the one who kept a cool head during all that.  I’m sure you guys would have been fine without me…”

“But we weren’t,” she argued through more sniffles.  “…  We would have died without you…”  Without a response, he just looked away.  He still held her hand.  “Midoriya?”

“ …  Yes?”

“May I, may I please have a hug?”  It felt right to ask somehow.

He hesitated, but slowly stood and raised his arms with a muttered “Okay.”  She likewise rose to hug his chest and leaned her head on his shoulder.  It was as stiff and awkward as someone who wasn’t used to giving or receiving physical affection could be, but he made the effort.  His figure was definitely broader than when she tossed him about with her tongue at the USJ, maybe a little taller too.  Months of intense training would do that.  Just another blessed reminder that horrible day was lost since passed.  Rigid as it was, his embrace was a comfortable place to be.  Warm.  Safe.  Midoriya was always there for her.  Tsuyu felt lucky to have him as a friend.  She almost didn’t want to let go.

“Thank you for saving me,” she whispered before releasing him.

“…  It’s what I’m here for.”

The whole ‘helping others to help yourself’ thing had been working right up until the end of Izuku’s conversation with Tsuyu.  As soon as he walked out the front door, the tightness in his chest returned.  At first, he dismissed it as the cold.  It was nowhere near as bad as it had been, certainly not enough to knocked him heaving on the ground.  But it got worse as he and All Might circled campus.  He must have just had empathy anxiety from Tsuyu.  Her dream seemed really intense , that was all.  Or maybe the reality that she and Mineta could have died had he not stepped up was setting in.  One mistake, and they might not have survived for him to worry about now.  Just like the butterfly.

“I’m started to regret recommending that story to you,” All Might said after he coerced his student to tell him the truth.  “I had no idea it would hurt you like this…”

“No, I think I’m just not as over what I saw as I thought,” he admitted, both to his teacher and himself.  “I was still thinking a lot about the butterfly story when it happened, and I think my emotions got all tangled up.”

Izuku said the same thing to Hound Dog at their counseling session later that day.   He was right about how helping others can help ease one’s own uncertainty.  During the past week, Izuku had immersed himself in the troubles of his peers more so than usual.  From small things like being a spotter during Sato’s lifting sessions, to more involved tasks like helping Todoroki put together a care package for his mother.  Sero and Hagakure had apparently been given the same advice, as they seemed to show up in similar scenarios.  The three went back and forth helping each other too, even if that meant sitting together in silence just as they had done on the first day.  And after all that, his progress suddenly seemed to be going backwards.

“I wouldn’t say that yet, ruff,” the muzzled hero replied.  “One bad day doesn’t mean you’re back to square one.  Might be the opposite.  You’re recognizing your feelings and openly admitting them.  To yourself and to others.  As someone with a history of trying to bury those things, I’d count this as progress.  Tea?”

“Yes, please.  Thank you.”

It was still a little weird to hear this from Hound Dog of all people.  Members of the student body who had never had a session with him only knew the hero as that guy who barks and growls incoherently during assemblies.  But he was a completely different person here.  When he was in a good mood, he spoke with a gentle calm, almost eloquence.  

Everything the man said seemed like another language compared to school counselors Izuku had before.  In the few instances where he had gone to them for help, they brushed him off.  They said he was exaggerating for attention.  By middle school, he had given up on them.  But Hound Dog never questioned what he said.  That difference alone was enough to set him more at ease.  He let Izuku talk about whatever for as long as he wanted without interruption, or let him be quiet and took the reins of the conversation.  The hero’s quirk also gave him a sense not unlike service dogs as to which his charge needed that day.

“Still feels bad, though.”  Something Izuku would have never admitted in middle school.  Maybe he was changing.  

“I didn’t say it didn’t.  But you can’t fix a problem if you don’t first acknowledge it.  Time isn’t what heals wounds, treatment and perspective are.”  The tea kettle he poured was comically too small for his giant dog-like paws.

“Shouldn’t I be getting used to it, though?  If I’m going to be a hero, I’m probably going to see way worse things…”   I’d be a fool to think Jakku would be the worst of it.  Stuff like that is just part of the job.  The couch in Hound Dog’s office was one of the comfiest on campus, yet Izuku couldn’t seem to find a good spot.  It seemed like he was in a new position with every response.

Hound Dog let out a low growl, his equivalent of a sigh.  

“Preparing , yes, ‘getting used to,’ no.  I don’t think I need to tell you that being a hero can be a tough job.  Physically and mentally.  Emotionally too.  Some don’t consider that separate, but I do , ruff.  And I speak from experience when I say that ‘getting used to it’ isn’t an option.”  He pushed a cup of tea towards him.

“So, it won’t go away?” Izuku interjected.  The inviting taste of tea wasn’t enough to ease his nerves.

“Let me explain: you may become desensitized to an extent through training and experience, yes.  But as soon as you think you’ve seen it all, that you’re ‘used to it,’ something will come down to shake your very essence.  Might not even be a big thing; might be a string of small things, or something specific to you.  But there will always be something that gets to you.”  There was a feeling that this was a speech he gave often.  

“But what am I supposed to do?” he whispered desperately.

“Be prepared.  Accept that rough stuff can and will happen, and that eventually it will get to you.  And when it does, take care of yourself.  Admit what you feel.  Take time to understand it.  Make use of your support network.  Basically, more of what you’ve been doing,” he explained with a toothy grin.  “It’s not unlike your shift to Shoot Style, now that I think about it.  The core problem of your injured arms wasn't resolved, but you found a way to lessen the chance they would be damaged further.”

”I, I think I understand,” Izuku said.  He wasn’t good with feelings, but he knew his own technique well enough.

“Being fully desensitized is something you don’t want, besides.  It’s hard to be a good hero when you can’t empathize with the people you save.  To deny your own feelings is to deny your humanity.  So, you shouldn’t try and ‘get used’ to scary things, but how to treat yourself when they get to you.”  Hound Dog delicately unlatched part of his muzzle to take a sip from his own cup.

That made sense.  “Any other suggestions for treatment?”

“Hmm…  You said you felt better when you went home, yes?”  He nodded.  “I’d suggest visiting more often, but that won’t always be an option, if we’re thinking in the long term…  So, what about something special from there?  A comfort item.  Do you have a stuffed animal, or a blanket you’ve had since you were a child?”

That made less sense.  He was sixteen, not four.  He didn’t need to be coddled, by anyone, even himself.  The bunny Yaoyorozu made went into his closet back home right after he was done crying.  He kept that to himself, however.  

“I’ll think of something.”

Anxiety came in waves over the next few days.  Mostly during training.  Like before, it was manageable.  It would start small and build throughout the day but would usually be gone by the time he and the others ate dinner.  Going off campus seemed to help, so he took every opportunity to go shopping with his classmates.  He sometimes even tagged along with Miro-sempai and his friends when they’d have him.  Both of their classes seemed to be going through food much faster lately, so there were more than a few chances.  On the days where it was bad, he would hide away in the teachers’ lounge at lunch with All Might.  He would do all the talking, and ease Izuku’s nerves enough to get him through afternoon lessons.  Other days, he wouldn’t feel bad at all. 

It had been one of the good days.  Mina and Tokoyami royally botched their attempt at dinner, and the resulting smell permeated through the entire dorm.  While the stench cleared and the class’s competent cooks tried to salvage what was left, Izuku decided to take his evening jog early to pass the time.

Most of the bushes and trees along the route were bare.  The secret clearing he and All Might trained it could be seen from the sidewalk.  Or maybe it was only visible because Izuku knew where to look.  Worry struck him when he found tracks leading there, but calmed when he recognized his own shoe prints from earlier.  Worry for what, he wasn’t sure.  He didn’t own the spot.  Nobody did.  It was actually a nice thought that other people were making progress in the same place he was. Izuku silently wished whoever else came there good luck on their own journeys as he passed.

Without warning, pain shot through his back.  Stabbing, crippling pain.  So much that he stubbled to his knees gasping for breath.  It was like all the hurt from the seminar hit all at once instead of building gradually and multiplied several times.  Bile scraped his throat.  Lashes of the trees striped his vision.  Clusters of rusted nails raked right between his scapula.  He couldn’t even scream.  

And then it stopped.  There wasn’t even a lingering discomfort.  With his forehead on the concrete, he took slow, strained breaths.  Did something just attack me?  He reached behind to see if he could feel anything where the pain had been.  There was nothing.  Nothing around him either.  That he could see, at least.  He stood as quietly as he could, scanning for the slightest disturbance.  But he was far enough within the walls, a villain this deep into campus would have triggered the alarms.  He checked behind a few trees anyway.  Nothing.  He didn’t tell anyone.  

After dinner, he examined his back in the mirror.  A yellowish, faded bruise of a bruise just barely stood out on his back.  The one from hitting the counter in the diner.  Though it had never hurt him that bad before, Izuku concluded that he must have irritated it somehow.  He slept shirtless on his side that night.

The pain returned the next day, around the same time and place.  It came and went just as fast.  Izuku searched the area more thoroughly.  Using Full Cowl to leap between trees, he combed through nearly the entire pocket forest, but still came up empty.  The anxiety returned after that.  At least now he had something to be anxious about.

He was already running late for class the next morning when it hit again.  He scraped his hand on the pavement when he fell. Being late was embarrassing enough, he didn’t need to ask to see Recovery Girl about something as basic as road rash.  Izuku figured he should count his blessings that it wasn’t his writing hand.  That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.  It was a long time before he was able ask Todoroki for a handful of ice.

Lunch was similarly embarrassing.  The weather was clear and the approaching winter let up some, so Izuku and his friends decided to eat outside.  Tsuyu showed them a recently-fallen tree she, Izuku, Uraraka, Iida, Aoyama, and Todoroki could all sit on together.  But it was a way off from the main building.

”Oh, dang it!  I forgot my chopsticks,” Uraraka exclaimed as she smacked her forehead.

”I’ll go back for some,” Izuku offered.

”Really?  You’re the best, Deku.”  She smiled, her pink cheeks scrunched up against her eyes.  He blushed.

”A-any body else?”

”We’re all fine, mon ami,” Aoyama said.  He raised an eyebrow.  “Best not keep the lady waiting.”

”Can you get some extra salt too, please?” Todoroki added.  Aoyama bumped his leg.

”O-okay.  If that’s all, I’ll be going,” Izuku replied, already in motion.

”Please refrain from using your quirk!  It is uncalled for such a simple errand!” Iida reminded as he took off.

He made it halfway before the pain came back.  White-hot grips peeled down his back.  He face planted into the grass.  This one lasted longer.  So did recovering once it was over.  The leftover dread left him feeling hollow.  By the time he reoriented himself, Izuku had forgotten his task.  

“You had one job,” Todoroki admonished.  

“I actually agreee with Todoroki on this one,” Iida joined.  “You agreed to a very basic mission, and you return with only grass stains on your uniform?  What were you doing?” 

“Oh, I was jogging back to the lunch room and I, uh, tripped.  On a root.  I guess it disoriented me a bit.”  Izuku was too flustered to tell the truth.   Lunch ended before he could try again.

The third attack that day was on the obstacle course.  It was an endurance run, with each student being let out at intervals.  That meant no one was around when he fell off the climbing wall onto his back.  Part of him just wanted to stay there in the mud and wait for someone to come and get him.  Tears pricked his eyes, more in shame than anything else. But he pressed on.  He didn’t get the worst time, but he got his worst time.  Even if they didn’t say anything, Izuku knew they all noticed.

The upside was that he put together the pattern.  Pain attacks only came when he was being active outside.  To test this hypothesis, Izuku spent the remainder of the day inside working on his Superman project from the comfort of the common room couch.  And it worked.  He didn’t have an attack for the rest of the day, and a lot of the dread subsided.

Okay,  he thought.  Just like Hound Dog said, I need to take it easy for a bit.

Taking it easy wasn’t enough.  On the third day, Izuku sat alone in the shade of the dorm building making notes for his Superman project.  Then it hit.  Something was trying to corkscrew his spine out through his burning eyes.  Instinctively, he curled up and grabbed his head.  He got out a scream that time.

Uraraka found him almost immediately, and the sensation left just as fast.  

“Deku!?  Deku are you okay?  What’s wrong?”  

Try as he might, words wouldn’t come out.  She dragged him inside to a swarm of his concerned friends.  Aoyama guided him to the couch.  Todoroki put his cold hand over his forehead.  Sero kept the others from crowding him.  Had he not been so embarrassed, he would have been touched.  But he realized denying any of it would only make them all more overbearing.

”For the past couple days, I’ve been having these weird spasms of pain, mostly around my back,” he admitted reluctantly.  He cringed at his classmates’ gasps.  “But it’s just from the bruise I got in Jakku.  I keep accidentally bumping it or something.  But it’s been almost two weeks, it should go away soon.”  He prayed internally that they would drop it.

“But why would it only start hurting now?” Tsuyu asked.

“Yeah, I saw the bruise when it was fresh, and it was pretty gnarly.  Why would it hurt more when it’s almost healed?” Mineta added.

“Maybe it was a delayed reaction, like with your anxiety,” Sero suggested.   Izuku shot him a look.  It was already taking a good deal of willpower not to cry in front of everyone.  He didn’t need this.

“Wait, what about anxiety?”

“Mido, are you okay?”

This, unfortunately, led to Izuku finally recounting his version of the events surrounding the diner to the whole class.  His account was much more detailed than either Sero or Hagakure’s, much to the horror of the others.  There were two main differences: the smell and the wounds on the bodies.  Apparently, Sero’s helmet was more efficient at filtering gas than Izuku’s mouth guard.  Neither had gotten a direct look at the spilled organs or the bits of spine poking out.

“Do you think what you felt has something to do with one of the victims having a wound in a similar spot?” Hagakure asked at the end.

The only response he could manage was a shrug.  That was a possibility he hadn’t considered.  He skipped dinner that night.

Against his wishes, someone told Aizawa about his trouble, and the man promptly banished him to Recovery Girl first thing the next morning.  Uraraka walked with him.  Hadn’t he embarrassed himself in front of her enough?  The anticipation of having an attack in front of her set his nerves on fire even more than usual.  Mercifully, they made it to her office without issue.

The actual trouble started when Recovery Girl tried to figure out the problem.  More specifically, that there was no problem.  The bruise was fully healed and didn’t hurt when she applied pressure.  She made him run through a series of stretches to try and trigger the pain; no reaction.  U.A. had fully operational MRI and X-Ray machines, so she was able to go as far as to scan him for internal damage to his bones or muscles.  Nothing came of it .

“Now, Young Midoriya, I know you are not the sort to fake an injury…” she started.

“S’not fake,” he whined, an almost involuntary reaction.   Izuku slumped over on the bed, sucking on the hard candies she gave him.  He had been in there for at least two hours by that point.  There were more productive things he could be doing on the weekend.  Uraraka had long since gone back to the dorms.  He wanted nothing more in that moment than to follow.

“I didn’t say that,” she chided lightly.  “I have accounts from multiple witnesses to your behavior, so I don’t doubt that something is happening.  I just can’t seem to find what’s distressing you…  You said that your anxiety hasn’t been improving much, either?”

“Are you saying it’s all in my head?”  That came out more bitter than he meant.

“Just wait a moment.  As I see it, we have two main possibilities right now: either you have some sort of nerve damage that I can’t detect, or, a chemical imbalance in your brain is causing it to directly send pain signals when it shouldn’t.”  She wrote somethings on her clipboard.

“That can happen?”

“Yes.  It’s called somatic system disorder.”  That made him sit up.  “Pain with no discernable cause accompanied by difficulty breathing and extreme anxiety.  Those are the basics, at least.”  She looked at him pointedly.  “Also, more common in young people with a history of traumatic injury, which you have ,” she remarked without her usual accusatory tone.  “Though it can’t be officially diagnosed unless symptoms have persisted for at least six months.”

Izuku cringed.  He was already a wreck and it hadn’t been a week.  

“So…  What can I do?” he asked.

She sighed.  “Well, I’d recommend starting you on some sort of anxiety medication to try and ease your symptoms. Generic would be covered by the school, but if it doesn’t help, I may have to discuss options with your mother.”  She flipped through her board.  “I have some colleagues with quirks that might give us a better picture, but their services are highly sought after so getting an appointment would take some time.  I believe we should see if the meds help first.”

He swallowed and looked away.   Mom won’t be able to pay for any of this long-term.

Recovery Girl sighed again and took one of his hands.  “I can’t force you to take it.  But I think it would help.”  She looked thoughtful for a moment.  “You wouldn’t be the only one to take them, you know.”

“Huh?”

“I’m not allowed to name names, but quite a few of your classmates are medicating for mental health.  Some started recently.  Teachers too,” she added.  “There’s nothing to be ashamed of, if that’s what you’re worried about. ”

It’s not.   “…  I’ll think about it.”

Finally, mercifully, he was released from the nurse’s office.  As expected, Uraraka was gone already.  It was Sunday, so she was probably back at the dorms.  Izuku shuffled back slowly.  The combination of Recovery Girl’s slight healing boost and the fact he hadn’t eaten yet that day made him sluggish.  A tiny part of him almost wished he’d have an attack so someone would carry him.  Immediately, he banished the passing thought.  Best not to temp fate.  He let himself linger in the crowds going between the dorms and cafeteria.  He considered stopping to get food but quickly remembered that he had leftovers.  All the talk of dead bodies the night prior had killed his appetite.  

Iida greeted him at the door.  

“Good morning, Midoriya-kun.  Was Recovery Girl able to deduce the cause of your discomfort?” he asked.

“Yep,” he lied.  “The bruise isn’t actually healed all the way, so she gave me a quick healing boost.  Just need to take it easy for the next few days and I’ll be fine.”  He didn’t need to lie.  There was nothing to be ashamed of.  Iida was more than familiar with nerve damage and would be one of the least likely people to judge him for any sort of medication.  So why?

It wasn’t clear whether Iida bought it or decided not to call him out , but he didn’t ask anything else.  Izuku breezed by him directly to the fridge.  Bakugou and Tokoyami were in the kitchen arguing about something Izuku was too hungry to listen to.

He opened it and looked directly where he left the bowl with his name on it, but it was gone.  Most of the fridge’s contents were.

Chapter Text

A collective groan echoed through class 1-A after the day’s hero training was announced: an escort mission. 

“You will work in teams of four to escort a caravan through the mock city.  To pass, the caravan, all its contents, and all of you must make it through the gate on the other side.  And even if you do, points will be deducted from your total score based on the condition of the contents at the end,” Aizawa explained.  A few hands went up.  “Before you ask, yes, it is possible to lose enough points to fail even if the main objective is met.  Those who fail will have to redo the escort and don’t get to leave until they get it right.  Clear?”

“Yes, Sensei!”

Izuku’s team of Yaoyorozu, Mina, and Aoyama were second to last.  The caravan was a self-driving, slow-moving tour cart full of mannequins that represented civilians.  Robots from the entrance exams would attack in waves: type-based units at the start, mixed units towards the ends.  It seemed like they had a good line up at first, but he grew more concerned as the other teams went out.  They could deal some decent damage individually but lacked ranged area-of-affect attacks.  Mineta and Todoroki could neutralize multiple incoming threats without risking the caravan.  Todoroki also used his ice to block of dangerous roads, forcing the caravan to chart a different course.  Medical risk aside, a high-percentage kick from One for All was far from precise.  Aoyama had distance covered but needed the enemy to be in the right position to hit multiples at once.  Yaoyorozu might be able to make a canon, but she only had the energy for one and it would be too big to carry or mount on the caravan. Izuku and Mina had short range down, but that would require them to either stray from the caravan or let the enemies get in close.  Neither were ideal options. 

“That’s probably why our group is going later, so we can get ideas,” Yaoyorozu mused, disrupting his thoughts.

“That was out loud, wasn’t it?” Izuku mumbled.  The other three laughed.  He tugged at his new winter costume’s turtleneck.

“Do not worry, mon ami.  At this point it’s endearing,” Aoyama assured as Mina nodded.

“Besides, what we lack in fire power, you two make up for in brain power!” she cheered, while reaching over to bump his and Yaoyorozu’s heads. 

“Admittedly, we are relying on you on that front,” he said.

True to Aoyama’s word, he and Mina went with Izuku’s and Yaoyorozu’s plan without question.  Planning formations ahead was essential, no earpieces this time to coordinate remotely.  They would walk towards the front to face oncoming attacks.  Yaoyorozu would ride on top of the caravan and assist as needed.  Izuku would trail behind.  As the most mobile of the group, he could move to any position quickly and be able to catch up should he get separated in a fight.  Like the patrol with- No!  Stop, stop thinking about it.

He didn’t feel good about this exercise at all.  The dread had been clawing at his heart all day and seemed to be getting worse.  Each step down the stairs from the viewing area to the field was agony.  It had been as bad since the day prior when he left to get lunch.  After an argument with Bakugou about the missing food, going so far as to get Aizawa to check the cameras, he stomped off to the cafeteria when he started drowning.  He hadn’t been able to keep down much food.  His chest rattled so much it almost hurt to breath.  But he hadn’t had an attack.  Yet.  Anxiety days were attack days, so he knew it was coming.  The anticipation only heightened it.  He barely slept the previous night, waiting.  It was going to come during the exercise.  It had to.  He knew it.  And it was going to be bad.

A little voice in his head said to sit this one out.  The others would understand.  Aizawa-sensei wouldn’t make just the three of them do it alone.  But what if he did?  Their chances were slim enough even with him on the team.  I need to step up.  Mind over matter.  Managing feelings is part of the job.  This is practice for the rest of my life.

The starting buzzer rang out, and they all got into position, Izuku slower than the others.  This was going to be a mess.  The caravan was little more than a long golf cart with a tarp for a roof.  It didn’t even have seat belts.  First thing Yaoyorozu did was make some.  There wouldn’t be any enemies for the first five blocks, to trick them into a false sense of security.  After that, it was random until the cluster of twenty that guarded the exit, including a zero-pointer.  Once they got there, Aoyama and Mina would switch to the back while Izuku charged ahead to carve a path.  But that was a long way off. 

Tension filled the air once Yaoyorozu called the fifth block.  The first group got ambushed right way.  But all was quiet.  The team’s footsteps echoed through the empty streets.

“Block six!” 

And then quiet resumed.  Everyone tensed to listen for the slightest disturbance.  They had to make up for not having someone like Jirou or Shoji on the team.

“Block seven!” 

This was where team two was hit.  Still nothing.  A breeze ruffled the caravan tarp.  The smell of exhaust from the cart invaded Izuku’s senses.  His pulled up his mouthguard over his face.  At least the improved filter was working.

“Block eight!”  

The buildings cast long, ominous shadows in the late afternoon sun.  They were at a visibility disadvantage too.  Izuku’s mind wandered to whether the street lights would come on if they were out long enough. 

“Block nine!”  

Team three was attacked from behind.  Izuku spun on his feet to look behind him.  Just the empty expanse of fake city.  Mina jumped at her reflection in a storefront.  Aoyama posed.

“Block ten!” 

Then it was weird.  They were already half way.  The others had to deviate from the central road by now.  Izuku could see the outline of the exit.  He scratched at his turtleneck again.

“Block eleven!”

Okay, what the heck is going on? he thought.  He spun around again.  More empty streets.

Something caught his eye down an alley.  Something moving.  He slowed down to look.  Nothing but some garbage cans.  Was something blown in the wind?  The fake city didn’t have fake trash, so probably not.  Then a noise.  The unmistakable sound of something knocking against a hollow dumpster.  He was completely still now, facing the dark space.  The alley was too small for even the one-pointers, but something for sure moved.  Izuku took a step forward.

And then it hit.  Hard.  Like a kick in the back and chest all at once.  All senses but pain shut down.  He fell to his knees and hacked out a lung.  The vice from the seminar was back around his heart.  His turtleneck felt strangling and his mouthguard suffocating.  This was definitely the worst one.  He imagined claws digging through the flesh beneath his shoulder blades, scratching at the underside of the bone, then popping them up like tabs on soda cans.

That was also the moment when the first pack of robots flanked the caravan, because of course it was.  He could just register the shine of Aoyama’s laser not too far off.  Yaoyorozu was silhouetted against it as she ran towards Izuku’s crumpled form.  Just before she reached him, the pain snapped away.  Enough dread remained, however, that he needed to be helped to his feet.  He tried to say something but could only pant.  Whatever she was saying to him didn’t get through.  She left him on the back bumper of the cart before running to help the others.

Come on, stop this.  Focus!  I need to get back out there! he cried inside.  He couldn't get a hold of his breathing, but he did manage to hold back tears.

The assault was dealt with by the time he came out of his daze.  Two squads attacked at once, and the piled debris forced the cart to turn onto a side rode.  Izuku’s eyes were drawn back to the alley as they turned the corner.  Nothing.

“Midoriya, are you alright?  What happened back there?” Yaoyorozu suddenly asked.  She trailed close behind the cart. 

“I…  I’m fine.  Thought I saw something moving an-“

“Another panic attack?” Aoyama suggested, materializing out of nowhere.  He had the same tight smile as always, but behind his mask his eyes were filled with concern.

“Go back to the front,” Izuku hissed uncharacteristically.  The other boy complied.  Then, to a wary Yaoyorozu: “I’m fine, don’t worry.  I’m already over it.”

It wasn’t a complete lie; the cold fingers of fear still writhed in his chest, but he wasn’t hyperventilating or even short of breath.  And now that it was over with, he could focus.  He was fine enough. 

To prove the point, Izuku took out a gang of six two-pointers that attacked from the rear singlehandedly.  The road was narrow to the point that the bots had to move in a straight line.  With a single kick, he knocked the first back hard into the others.  He resumed formation without a word from him or his teammates.

The caravan seemed to be programed to seek out its own demise.  No matter which way they tried to herd it, it always ended up going right into an ambush or back onto the wide, exposed main road.  Sometimes it even backtracked away from the finish.  They had long since lost track of where they were.  Aizawa said the goal was to protect the mock civilians, but the real test was endurance.  The longer the exercise went on, the more likely fatigue would make someone slip up. 

It would have been a challenge even if the dread wasn’t eating Izuku alive.  Each movement was a little slower than the last.  Wind didn’t blow through the narrow alleyways, so he was left to fester in his sweat.  The turtleneck was too hot.  Too tight.  He pulled at it again.  This isn’t working out.  I’ll go back to the old length and just wear something removable.  Like a scarf.  But a villain could grab a scarf and ch-  No!  Focus, stay focused.  Stay f-

“Four o’clock!” Yaoyorozu warned.

Izuku spun on his heel towards the incoming pack.  Five three-pointers.  He hadn’t even heard them.  Aoyama blasted one on the fringe before he could reach them.  At the start of the exercise, the other boy wouldn’t have had time to turn around.  The remainder were dealt with quickly, but not quickly enough to Izuku’s liking. 

“Sloppy.  Completely sloppy,” he muttered, kicking away a twisted piece of robot.  I can do so much better.  I know I can.  If the attack hadn’t thrown me off…  He shook his head until it hurt.  That’s an excuse and you know it.  Do better.  No matter how well he really acted, the dread made it seem worse.  Worse still was that everyone was watching it all happen.  The harsh criticism he was sure to get from Aizawa was to be expected.  But the uncertainty of how his classmates would react to his poor performance dragged his mood down that much further.  He returned to the formation with a frustrated scowl.

A crash towards the front.  Izuku’s head snapped up to attention.  Another three-pointer burst through a wall of garbage cans directly in front of the caravan’s path.  More followed behind.

“All hands on deck!” Mina called.  Frantically, she slung acid at the first’s treads.  It stopped, but teetered over her.  “Woah, woah, not cool!”  Izuku tried to leap for her. 

“Mina, dodge!” he yelled.  Before Full Cowl could come to him, the bot toppled.  “Come on, come on!”  He bolted.  But Mina stood tall as it hit the ground, a hole melted through its middle.

“Thanks, but I’m good!” she cheered, then moved on to the next one.

Izuku breathed a brief sigh of relief, before going back to beat up more bots and himself.  What if she had been a civilian, or someone without a quirk that could stop her from getting crushed? he admonished.  Someone could have been hurt, and it would have been on me…

A three-pointed skated past Mina and Aoyama’s defense.  Izuku rant up to it, prepared for a counter attack.  This time, for sure!  He dove into its path, and it drifted around him. 

“Creati, look out!” he shouted, and tried to chase after it.  His legs and lungs burned. 

Yaoyorozu, perched atop the cart, threw two grenades at the incoming threat.  Neither hit.  She was fading, too.  The bot slammed a metal hand into the concrete in front of the cart, and reached in for a mannequin.  Yaoyorozu leaned forward above it, arms crossed tightly over her head.  An anvil fell from her stomach, ending the bot.  She almost fell off as well.

“Are you alright!” Izuku asked, finally getting there.  The other two picked off the last of the pack, and rushed towards them. 

“I’m, I’m fine.  Just a little, little winded,” she panted.  Izuku offered her a hand and guided her to sit on the hood of the cart.

“Are you good to keep going?” Mina asked.  She wasn’t looking great either.  Her hair lost some of its puff and there were small holes in her costume from sweating bits of acid.

“I’m still have some left in me,” Yaoyoruzu said with a raised fist.  She was noticeably thinner than an hour before.  Izuku cringed.  “Just need to catch my breath a moment.”

“Well it looks like you’ve going to get that moment,” Aoyama remarked.  Debris surrounded the unmoving cart.  He already moved to clear some of it.  “Might as well get started.”

“You two just rest for a second, you did the most work that last round,” Izuku told the girls. 

“You sure, Mido?”  She looked him up and down.  “You don’t look so good either.”

He resisted the impulse to pull his turtleneck again.  Hunger was starting to get distracting.  Dread weaved between his ribs. 

“I’m okay.”  A forced smile is still a smile.  Faster they got moving, faster it would be over.  Besides, if there was one thing he knew he could do, it was move garbage.

Izuku could also run his mind a mile a minute.  The dread hadn’t dulled that yet.  As his carried a severed metal arm out of the way, he thought about why that last robot hit the road instead of the cart.  The hood and engine were wide open, but it reached inside instead.  And before that, it ignored him and Yaoyorozu completely.  An idea struck him.  With renewed enthusiasm, Izuku grabbed a piece of flat debris and ran back to the cart.

“Hey, Creati?  I hate to ask, but do you think you could please attached this?” he asked.  The piece wasn’t unlike the makeshift shield he carried across the obstacle course in the Sports Festival.  He propped it up against the cart floor and canopy.

“Oh, I get it.  You want to add an extra defense for the civilians,” Yaoyorozu said.

“Kind of like that.  Plus, I want to test something.”

“What?”

“The robots aren’t behaving like in the entrance exam and Sports Festival.  There, they were attacking anything that moved.  Here, they go directly for the civilians and ignore us until we hit them.  Maybe if they can’t see their targets, they won’t attack.”  It was a bit of a long shot, but it was worth a go. 

“Well, we won’t know until we try it.”  She made some sort of fast-acting adhesive to hold the panels in place.  The amount needed to completely encase the faux-civilians unfortunately slowed down the vehicle by a lot.  Hopefully, it would be worth it.

The true test was a pack of three-pointers a few minutes later.  Two from the left, two from the right, and three from the back.  Izuku, Aoyama, and Mina all fell into fighting stances, while Yaoyorozu stood at the ready on the cart hood.  As per the plan, they hesitated to strike.  And so did the robots.  Moments after they rushed from their hiding spaces, they stopped.  Their heads swiveled around, and their lights flickered. 

Izuku looked back to his teammates, who in turn smiled.  Mina fist-pumped the air.  He was right.  They were able to saunter by the enemies without any trouble.  Two more packs came out of the woodwork onto the main road and reacted in a similar fashion.  All the while, the group remained silent, just in case their voices would set them off.

Before they realized it, the finish line was a block and a half away.  Izuku was half-tempted to get behind the cart and push.  They had been in the exercise for over an hour, much longer than the others.  He was ready to be done.  One more group still had to go, and no one could leave until everyone had not only completed the escort but passed.  He ran up to switch positions with Mina and Aoyama.  Ahead waited a blockade of twenty yet unseen robots: ten two-pointers, nine three-pointers, and one zero-pointer right in the middle.  They would rise from hidden panels in the ground and surround the caravan.  The original plan was to start attacking as soon as they saw movement.  But with the success of blocking the bots’ lines of sight, the new plan was to silently slip under the zero-pointer’s legs without further conflict.

The ground shook, and the team fell-in closer to the caravan.  The street opened.  Robots appeared all around them but did nothing.  A sigh of relieve went unexpressed but nonetheless felt among the four.  The zero-pointer eclipsed sun and cast a shadow down at least two thirds of the main road.  Its giant, brick-like head moved back and forth just like all the smaller bots.  As they moved closer, the electric humming of its insides grew louder and louder.  The steady noise was almost relaxing. 

Without warning, the caravan was cast in a harsh red light.  Izuku looked up directly into the blinking “eyes” of the zero-pointer looking down at them.  The humming picked up to a whir, and the lights flashed in time with five-tone beeps.  The other robots’ heads snapped towards them and copied the beeps.

One for All roared to life on instinct, and Izuku launched up to the colossus’ hand.  A quick kick knocked it away from the caravan and propelled him higher.  The familiarity of flying up to the zero-pointer’s face wasn’t lost on him.  What was lost was an idea on how to deal with it.  Full Cowl at eight percent wouldn’t be enough to bring it down.  Neither would even ten percent on the off chance he could manage it.  One hundred percent wasn’t an option either.  Capable as his teammates were, he knew they couldn't afford him being out of commission. 

He landed on the zero-pointer’s head, unsure of what to do next.  Why had it attacked when the others hadn’t? he thought.  As he scanned for options, he saw it: a hole in the tarp on top of the caravan.  The zero-pointer was tall enough to see into it.  And that wasn’t all: in the distance, all the robots they had left idle, about two dozen, were suddenly charging. 

The giant brought up its other arm to strike him.  That could work…  He crouched and waited.  At the last second, he leapt onto the arm.  It smacked into its own head, leaving a dent and chopping loose part of its face.  The force of impact caused the over-sized bot to teeter.  With a final bunny kick, Izuku pushed the zero-pointer off its center and on top of a cluster of its allies below.

But then, several meters in the air, another attack hit.  A cold, stabbing sensation shot up his back into his teeth and down to the soles of his feet.  His spine arched in pain.  Full Cowl went out like a candle, and he fell.

The attack ended in time to be replaced by new pain: his left shoulder slamming backwards into its socket with a sickening crunch.  His head snapped to the side from the sudden stop.  Then, he bounced into something hard that beamed his back, only to roll down a little further until his face met the concrete.  Noise was muffled.  This time, it was hard to breath.  Something tried to touch him, but he shook it off.  Vision returned in bursts.  The first thing he saw was a giant maroon crash pad. 

Yaoyorozu must have made it.  Where was she?  Oh, yeah.  The other robots.

As much as it hurt, he had been through worse.  The adrenaline helped.  He made short work of the remaining robots.  With Full Cowl, it was like kicking-over some blocks.  He jumped on them one after the other like a human pinball.  It was even easier since they weren’t moving.  They must have lost the signal when the zero-pointer went down.  Even so, he should be safe in case they start up again.  After that cluster was taken out, Izuku paused to look for more. 

Ah! Two-pointer, one o’clock.  Still frozen.  He fired up to leap again, but only made it a few feet.  He stumbled.  Huh?  What’s happening?  Why isn’t Full Co-

“Midoriya!”  Then he froze.  Aizawa sounded mad.  Izuku turned around to see his teacher and teammates all but sprinting towards him.  “Don’t move!”

“What’s wro-”

“Did you not hear the end buzzer?” he shouted.  Aizawa almost never raised his voice.  Izuku swallowed.  He must have really screwed up. 

“No…  Did the caravan get through?” he ventured.  Then he leaned to look back; the cart rested parallel to the crash pad still in the active zone.  That must have been what he hit.  “Why’d it stop?”

Aizawa stood up straight and combed his hair with his fingers.  His expression was tight.  Behind him, his teammates were wide-eyed and worried. 

“You just fell straight down almost four stories.”  He let the words hang in the air. 

“Yaomomo caught you, but you rolled off…” Mina started.  She was shaking.  “A-and…”

“And you’re hurt,” Aoyama finished, haunted.

Oh.  Only then did he notice his left arm hanging limp at his side.  A large lump poked out of his shoulder, near where his collar bone should be.  That part of his costume was wet and red.  Oh.

“Thanks, f’saving me,” he slurred to Yaoyoruzu.  She just smiled weakly with unshed tears clouding her eyes.  “Would we have passed though?”

“Sit down, slowly,” he teacher commanded.  Izuku did so, pain faintly poking through the adrenaline high.  The others hovered around to help, but he shooed them off.  Aizawa sighed.  “You’re delirious.  I’m taking you to Recovery Girl.  No arguments.”

“Yes, Sensei,” he muttered.

“Good.  The rest of you are to go back to the observation room.  Tell the others that someone else will be on their way to cover for me.”

“Yes, Sensei.”

Even though Izuku insisted he could walk, Aizawa forced him onto a medical gurney.  Later, the boy would be grateful.  The pain grew ever worse as the adrenaline wore off.  It was so bad Izuku wasn’t sure if it was an attack or not.  Breathing was hard enough for it to be, but the hurt was centered around his shoulder and neck rather than back.  He blacked out in the final stretch and woke up staring at an all too familiar ceiling.

“-pect this sort of negligence from All Might, but not you,” Recovery Girl chastised.  “Why didn’t you stop the exercise after he had the first one?”

“Up until then, I had never seen him have one.  He recovered quickly, and was doing fine after,” Aizawa defended, though his tone sounded defeated. 

No I wasn’t, Izuku argued internally.  I was sloppy and slow and kept messing up.  Nothing about what I was doing was fine.

“Up until he wasn’t.”

A sigh.  “Up until he wasn’t…”

Izuku tried to sit up then.  He was met with a dull throb in his left shoulder.  His chest was exposed.  There was a brace over it, and bandages down his arm.  New dread filled him.  The doctor said just one or two more breaks and his arm would be paralyzed.  But this wasn’t as bad a break, right?  And his left arm wasn’t as bad as his right, right?

“Oh, you’re awake,” Recovery Girl addressed him.  Her voice lacked the usual bite she used to chastise him for being reckless.  He shrunk away nonetheless.  “Don’t look at me like that.  I’m not going to yell at you.  Wasn’t your fault this time.”  She walked over and handed him some candies.  He just stared at them.

“…  How long was I out?”

“Not long.  Thirty, forty minutes, not even.”  She saw how he kept stealing glances to his arm.  “Your arm still works, dearie.  Most of the damage was in your shoulder, but your arm is still going to smart for a few days.”  He wiggled his fingers just to check. 

“What happened?”  He wasn’t sure he had events right in his head.

“Let’s go down the list, shall we?  An open fracture in your collar bone, displaced fracture in the humerus, two broken ribs with several others bruised, whiplash, and a concussion.  Not to mention, reoccurring pain spasms that we still don’t have a cause for.”  She looked back and forth between the two.  “Do you know what LD50 is?” she asked harshly.  Izuku shook his head a bit, but winced at the pain.

”It’s the height you can fall from and expect a fifty percent chance of survival,” Aizawa recited.  He let his hair fall in from of his eyes.  Someone who specialized in leaping between buildings like him probably had all the statistics memorized.

“So you know that he was right on that line!  And it doesn’t even take into account potential permanent damage!”  She smacked his knee with her cane before turning back to Izuku.  Her stance relaxed a bit.  “You were incredibly lucky today, young man.  Your injuries could have been much, much worse.  A slightly different angle and you could have broken your neck.  If not for your classmate’s quick thinking, we would likely not be having this conversation.”

Both he and Aizawa cringed.  No one said anything for a moment.

“Did we at least pass?” Izuku asked again.

“No,” he stated.  “When you bounced off the crash pad, you knocked-in one of the metal panels you put on the cart.  Crushed two mannequins’ heads.”

The walk back from the nurse’s office to the dorms seemed to take longer each time.  Maybe it was because it was dark out.  The uneaten candies and anxiety meds felt heavy in Izuku’s pocket.  Aizawa’s intense presence beside him didn’t help.  His angry aura was overwhelming.  The rational part of Izuku’s brain said that he wasn’t mad at him; he was just frustrated one of his students was hurting and he couldn’t do anything.  But the part soaked through with anxiety said that he was racking up problem-child points.

His teacher didn’t say anything until his hand was on the handle of the front door.

“You’re off of combat simulations until these attacks are under control,” he said.

“Wha-“

“Midoriya, you will not argue with me on this,” he snapped.  Just because Izuku saw this coming didn’t mean he wasn’t hurt.  Aizawa patted his head once.  “What happened today wasn’t your fault.  This isn’t a punishment.”

Izuku stepped away.  Still doesn’t change anything.  Might as well be, he wanted to say. 

“I know…” he breathed.  Aizawa abandoned the door to put both hands on his shoulders.

“Midoriya.  A fall like that could have resulted in a career-ending injury.  It could have killed you.  Do you understand that?” he asked, exasperated.

“…  Yes.”

“Do you, really?”

“Yes!” he snapped back, then covered his mouth.  The average person wouldn’t have noticed the hero’s slight recoil.

“I’m still going to say it again: you are not at fault, you are not being punished,” he said sternly.  His face was bathed in worry and frustration, though Izuku only focused on the latter.  “I’m taking you off combat because I want you to get better.  Not because I don’t think you’re capable.”

“I know.  Thank you, Sensei,” he conceded.  He knew it was true, so why didn’t it feel like it was? 

“Good,” he sighed.  “Now, you better go and thank Yaoyorozu.  Her quick thinking is what saved you.”

“...  I will.”

They both went inside without further comment.

Chapter Text

Izuku took his time taking his shoes off.  If he felt trapped the other day when they cornered him about the attacks, it was going to be much worse after the fall.  Aizawa pushed on ahead.

“Hi, Aizawa-sensei!” some of the girls said from the living room.  Izuku stared at the front door, motionless.  Maybe if he got a running start, he could jump to his dorm window.  But it was locked.

“Hello, Erasersir.”  Eri’s there too.

“What happened to Midoriya?  Is he okay?”  That was Yaoyorozu. 

Izuku didn’t catch the next part of the conversation.  Aizawa must not have wanted him to hear.  He scowled.  If you’re going to leave babysitting instructions, you could at least humor me and tell me too.  He could have just got up and walked over, but didn’t.  Dread weighed him down. 

“Alright then,” Aizawa started, resuming his usual tone.  “You ready to go, kid?”

“Aw, can’t I stay longer?” Eri begged.

“Oh, sorry Eri.  We’re watching a big kid movie tonight,” Mina said.  Oh yeah.  That’s tonight.

“And it’s pretty late,” Tsuyu added.

“We can all watch something together sometime later this week, okay?” Yaoyorozu offered.

Aizawa must have nodded because Eri responded with an enthusiastic, “Okay!”  She went around saying her goodbyes to everyone before she appeared beside him.  “Hi Deku!”  She wore clearly new winter clothes and a grey scarf that was much too big for her.

“Hi, Eri,” he said.  Izuku did his best to bury his growing discomfort, not that she seemed to notice.  “Do you want my help tying your shoes?”  She sat close beside him, pink princess shoes in hand.

“No thank you.  Tsuyu showed me how to do it all by myself.  Do you wanna see?”  Her smile didn’t warm him like it usually did.

“Of course,” he prompted.  With careful, clumsy fingers, she demonstrated her new skill.  It took her a little bit, but she finished with another grin. 

“Ta da!”

“Wow, that’s amazing Eri!”

“Thank you!”

“Are you ready to go?” Aizawa asked.  Izuku hadn’t noticed him hovering over them.

“Uh huh.  Goodnight, Deku!” she chirped before skipping to the door.  He waved lightly without looking up all the way.

“Try to eat something, okay?” his teacher said quietly.  Izuku flinched away from the hand in his hair, more out of reflex than intention.  He didn’t dare look up.  “…  Stay out of trouble.”  And they left.

Izuku sighed once the door closed.  I’m being pathetic.  Moping around won’t make things better.  He shoved his shoes to the side, stood up, and took a deep breath.  One bad day isn’t the end of the world.  I’ll be okay.  He put on a smile before turning to the common space.

“Yo, he lives!” Kaminari cheered from the kitchen.  Sato smacked him in the back of the head before chastising him under his breath.

“Hey man, good to see you,” Kirishima covered.  All three were surrounded by grocery bags in the kitchen.

“Was the fridge empty again?” Izuku asked.  He walked over to start unpacking, eager to distract himself.

“Yeah, ever since this morning.”

Izuku hadn’t been there; he skipped breakfast. 

“We got some really good oranges from the farmers’ market if you need something to tie you over before dinner,” Kaminari said, and tossed him one.  Izuku fumbled to catch it. 

“The farmers’ market?  Doesn’t that close pretty early during the week?”

“Yeah but we went right after class let out, so we caught the end,” Kirishima explained.  He took Izuku’s orange and peeled it with his quirk in a fluid spiral.  “Ectoplasm-sensei already agreed to take us this morning, and since he took over class today we went straight there.”

“That’s good…”  At least something good came of it…  Izuku turned the peeled orange over in his hand.  He was at the point where he couldn’t tell if he was nauseous or just hungry.  “What is for dinner?”

“American-style mac and cheese!” Sato proclaimed, holding up a bag of pasta.  “In honor of tonight’s movie.”

“Speaking of which, why don’t you go and get ready?” Kirishima suggested.  “Go shower and stuff, we’re almost done here.”

They weren’t.  Izuku saw the way their eyes kept jumping to his brace.  He suppressed a scowl.  I’m not helpless.  But he still walked away with a smile, leaving his orange on the counter.  If he was quiet, he could slip upstairs without anyone noticing.

He had to pass the living room on the way to the stairs.  The space around the TV was already covered in blankets and pillows.  Tokoyami, Shoji, Aoyama, and Tsuyu were already lounging on the pile, talking.  Mineta was asleep in the corner.  Mina and Yaoyorozu sat against the wall messing with a laptop.  They both shot up as soon as she saw him.  So much for avoiding this.

“Midoriya, are you alright?  How are you feeling?” Yaoyorozu questioned.  Her raised hands fidgeted as she looked him over.  Mina and Aoyama flanked him with similar expressions.  They also blocked his escape.

“Yep, I’m okay.  Just have to wear a shoulder brace until tomorrow.”  He pulled down the collar of his shirt to reveal it.  “Thanks again for catching me.”

“Oh, that’s good.  That’s good,” she sighed, hand over her chest.  Though none of them looked completely relieved.

“What happened after I left?  Did you guys have to go back in by yourselves?”

Yaoyorozu groaned.  “You could have died and that’s what you’re worried about?  No, we didn’t go back in.  Our group will have a makeup assignment at a later date.”  She crossed her arms.

“What about not being able to leave until everyone passed?”  He paused, then deflated.  “Logical ruse?”

“Logical ruse,” everyone in earshot agreed.

“That was a pretty bad fall, ribbit.  We thought Recovery Girl was going to keep you over night,” Tsuyu said, suddenly beside him.

“We weren’t gonna watch the movie without you, though,” Mina chimed in from behind.  “We know you’ve been looking forward to this one, so if you didn’t get back in time, we were gonna find something else.”

“Thanks for that,” he chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck.  “What were we watching again?”  His friends shared a quick look.  He frowned.  “I didn’t hit my head that bad, it’s just been a while since we talked about it.”  Even the mild annoyance in his tone was different enough from his usual attitude for it to stand out.  Luckily, they dropped it.

“We’re watching ‘Justice League: Crisis on Two Earths,’” Yaoyorozu proclaimed.  “My art history project is on Batman and line between hero and villain, so a story about heroes fighting their evil alternatives seemed like a good fit.”

“I still think you should have done ‘The Dark Night Returns,’” Mina said.

“Everyone does ‘The Dark Night Returns.’  It’s cliché at this point,” Tokoyami called over.

“Oh, be quiet.  You’re just salty ‘cause Yaomomo got dibs on Batman before you could.”

“Moon Knight is an equally notable crusader of night,” the bird-headed student mumbled. 

The girls looked back and laughed.  Izuku just let out a little huff.  The others returned to what they were doing before they noticed him, and he noticed someone else.  Further behind the boys on the pillows, Sero was wrapped up in a blanket on the couch.  Izuku maneuvered over the clutter to get close.

“Are you okay?” he asked in a low voice. 

Sero turned to face him slowly. 

“You’re one to talk.  Hell of a fall back there…”  His voice was rough. 

“You want me to tell him?” Hagakure whispered.  Izuku flinched back.  He hadn’t noticed her curled up beside the other boy, who shrugged in response.  She sighed, and leaned forward.  “You know how it was Sero’s turn to take out the trash?  Well, after class he went to the dumpsters in the back, and…”

“There was a black feather,” he hissed.  Izuku’s heart clenched.  “It was nothing, really.  Talked to Kouda and he said it was just a crow.  He even got it to ‘apologize,’ heh.  But, I saw it, and, ugh, I just…  Freaked out.”  He pulled the blanket over his face.  “Thought I was past it, ya know?”

“Yeah,” the other two sighed in unison. 

“Ha, what am I saying?  You’ve got it worse than both of us.” 

Izuku was about to deny it, but after what had happened earlier, what everyone had seen, he knew his words would ring hollow.  He also knew that if he accepted the group hug they offered right after, he would start crying.  He really didn’t want to do anymore of that.  Wasn’t keen on anyone touching him either.  Instead, he retreated upstairs to change. 

The option was there to just go to bed and avoid pitying eyes, but he genuinely wanted to watch the movie.  Old animated DC movies were typically pretty good; plus, it had Superman in it, so he could get more research done for his own project.

The worst part of the shoulder brace was that he couldn’t shower.  He still felt grimy from sweating during training.  Due to past experiences, he was an expert of showering around a cast on his arm or foot.  But the brace couldn’t be kept out of the water like a limb.  It completely covered his left shoulder and the straped wrapped around his right.  He had to settle for wiping himself down with a washcloth and praying he could get the brace off in time to shower before class.  But that depended on Recovery Girl one: being available early enough, and two: giving him the clear.  Something told him that she wasn’t going to be lenient.  He groaned.  It wasn’t fair.  He wasn’t asking to be let loose right after a bad injury.  He just wanted to be clean.

That was the bitter mantra going through Izuku’s mind as he descended the stairs, his own pillow in tow.  He was the last to arrive for movie night.  Those who hadn’t seen him yet voiced their concern, to which he said that he just broke his collar bone.  They didn’t need to know about the whiplash or concussion.  After the obligatory reassurance, they ushered him onto the spot on the couch that had been reserved for him.  It was right in the middle crease directly opposite the TV; best seat in the house.  Even though there was no reason to, he felt guilty.

It took a while for everyone else to figure out seating arrangements and get food.  Izuku wasn’t hungry.  That, and he was too comfy to get up.  The crease left enough space open for the offending spot on his back, even when he sank in.  He might have fallen asleep if something hadn’t lightly tugged his pajama pants.  He grumbled and sat up.

“Hey, Midoriya,” Mineta whispered.  He looked up at the other boy with a large tin drum hugged to his chest.  There was a blue stripped ribbon on top.  It was so wide he couldn’t wrap his short arms all the way around it.

“Hmm?  What do you need,” Izuku asked groggily.

“Here.”  He passed up the tin.

“…  What is it?” 

“Open it.”

He untied the ribbon and pried it open.  Inside were two kinds of popcorn: caramel and orange cheddar, divided in the middle by cardboard.  Admittedly, it smelled fantastic.

“It’s gourmet.  My mom works at a place that makes it and I asked her to send some,” Mineta supplied before he could ask.  “I wasn’t sure which kind you liked so I got both.”

“Uh, thanks, that’s great, but…  What’s it for?” Izuku asked. 

“For you!”

“I get that, but, why?  This is kind of out of nowhere…”

“Oh.  Well, I realized that I never thanked you for saving my life at the USJ, so…” he trailed off and scratched the back of his head.

He must have spoken to Tsuyu, Izuku thought.  “Oh, you don’t need to thank me.”

“I do, though,” Mineta countered.  He face was pleading.  This really wasn’t worth arguing.

“…  Thank you, Mineta,” he begrudged.

Shouta closed the storybook.

“Alright, kid.  I think that’s enough for the night,” he said. 

“Okay,” Eri yawned.  She nestled further into her pink cat pillow with a slight frown.

“I’m sorry, but it’s late,” he reasoned while he pulled her covers up further.  “I already let you stay up later since you couldn’t watch the movie.”

"It’s not that,” she whined.

“Then what?”  He returned the book to its shelf on the other side of the frilly pink room.  He used to leave their current book on the nightstand, before he caught her turning through the pictures well past midnight.

“…  Is Deku in trouble?” she asked.  The covers over her mouth muffled her a bit.  Her little unicorn plush peered over them with her.

“Hmm?  No, why do you think that?”  He knelt down and doubled checked that her little ice-cream cat nightlight was working.  But why wouldn't it be?

“He looked sad.”  So did she as she said it.  Shouta stood back up, and sighed.

“No, no, he’s not in trouble.  He’s…  He had a bad day, and wasn’t feeling well.”  If only it were that simple…

“What happened?”

“I’m not sure he’d be alright with me telling you.  You’ll have to ask him yourself.”  A deflection, admittedly.  He didn’t want her awake with worry.

“Can I do it tomorrow?”  

“If he’s up to it.”  He returned to her bedside and patted her head.  “And that means you need your rest.”

“Okay,” she smiled and reached up to hug his hand.  There was a bittersweetness in her acceptance.  Most young children Shouta encountered would have thrown a fit at not getting their way.  Eri only understood that sometimes people needed space to heal because she went through it herself.  “Goodnight, Erasersir.”  But she was no less sweet.

“Goodnight, kid,” he whispered, before standing up to turn off her light.  One down, one to go, Shouta thought with a sigh as he closed the door to Eri’s room.  He wanted to let her stay up too.  Bedtime stories were good for little kids, or so he tried to tell himself.  As much as he cared for her, he was procrastinating.  That wasn’t like him.  Apparently being out of character was contagious.

He dreaded writing the report on Midoriya’s condition more than any paperwork he’d had to deal with in a long time.  The closest recent example was his statement about the training camp and Bakugou’s kidnapping.  That had been somewhat easier; he got to rely on witness testimony for most of it since he was only present for a fraction of what happened that night.  He winced.  Midoriya was almost killed that night, too.  So many of them had.  And there was only so much he could do against a sudden villain attack.  But this time, all the red flags were there, and exercise recordings left Shouta no room to hide from his own poor judgement.

Midoriya had looked distracted and lost all week, the same way he looked the rest of the day after his panic attack at the seminar.  Shouta hadn’t thought much of it; kid was traumatized.  If an experienced hero like Nemuri was shaken up by the crime scene, an inexperienced child like Midoriya being upset was a given.  But he was progressing well in therapy (according to Inui) and none of his grades were affected.  He’d go back to normal in due time.  The situation seemed handled.  Then Uraraka and Hagakure came to him early one morning, bordering on tears, and said that Midoriya was having and hiding phantom pains with panic attacks.  So Shouta sent him to Recovery Girl.  Again, problem seemingly solved.

Which brought Shouta to two days later, watching the recording of that afternoon’s exercise alone in his room.  He didn’t need the footage to remind him how nervous Midoriya looked.  He shuffled on his feet awkwardly at the back of the group during briefing, opposite to his usual spot at the front.  The others even left his space open.  His head was turned to the floor, but his eyes darted around as if he were looking for something.  The footage didn’t show that.  Shouta had debated whether to confront him on his behavior, but regrettably decided against it.

If he’s sick and still goes out there, it’s his choice, he’d reasoned.  If something happens, maybe he’ll learn something about being upfront with his condition and limits.  With that speech he gave, you’d think he already knew that.

Shouta clawed at his hairline.  How could have he been so negligent?  One of his kids almost died because he wanted him to learn a lesson about speaking up.  At that wasn’t even the worst part.  Midoriya had one of his attacks right in front of him and Shouta still did nothing.  He couldn’t remember how he tried to justify that to himself.  Probably some bullshit about perseverance. 

He re-watched his student kneel in pain about eleven times, desperate to find anything that could have triggered it.  Midoriya didn’t move in an unusual or strenuous way.  Nothing struck him.  The camera in the alley the kid investigated only caught a strong gust of wind opening and closing a garbage can lid.  In a last effort of desperation, Shouta cross-referenced the robot’s attack patterns to check if their wireless frequencies somehow set him off.  They didn’t of course.  Why would they?  That was a dumb thought. 

Midoriya did well after that, or appeared to.  He dispatched multiple foes all by himself in respectable time.  The notes Shouta took at the time praised his quick instincts and ‘resilience.’  Yes, that was the word he used.  But quickly the footage started telling a different story.  Midoriya stumbled.  He missed kicks.  He failed to reach Ashido in time, even though she was fine by herself.  And he wore a deep scowl from the time immediately after the attack to his suggesting the panel armor.  Midoriya was one of the best endurance fighters in the class; him slipping should have raised concern.  Why didn’t I notice?  …  I did.  I didn’t think it was a problem.

And then there was the fall.  Shouta paused the recording right before to collect himself.  He reshuffled through his notes and stood up to stretch.  Nothing was going to make it easier.  He had thought everything was fine until that point.  Midoriya leapt out of the way of the zero-pointer’s strike, then used the momentum it created in harming itself to push it the rest of the way over.  A simple, yet incredibly effective maneuver.  Shouta was almost proud.  And then, just like that, everything went wrong.  Midoriya flinched violently while still in the air, and the sparks of his quirk went out in a flash.  Shouta knew something was wrong in the moment; he didn’t wait for his student to hit the ground to call the buzzer.  Even then, re-watching the event hours later, he felt the compulsion to get up and run to him.  Instead, he had to catch up on what he missed.

Yaoyorozu saw what was wrong immediately as well.  Seemingly without thinking, she positioned herself into Midoriya’s path and made the crash pad.  She’d come a long way from over-analyzing every little thing to acting purely on instinct.  And in a way that likely saved her classmate’s life no less.  Makeup exercise or not, as far as Shouta was concerned, she aced this.

Something about the recordings make the fall look so much higher.  Midoriya hit the pad shoulder-first.  Shouta inhaled sharply.  The way he sunk into it initially looked like he hit his head too.  But if that hadn’t caused the concussion, bouncing off into the caravan sure did.  Shouta paused it again and rubbed his face.  U.A. had been using robots since long before he was even a student.  More than once had he been thrown into them.  He knew how much that had to hurt.  He resumed the footage.  Midoriya rolled off the metal panels onto the ground.  And didn’t move.  Shouta held his breath.  Yaoyorozu and Aoyama ran to their teammate, panicked and already crying.  For seven whole seconds, Midoriya was just a body.  When the kid described it to Recovery Girl, there was no time between hitting the ground and getting back up.  He was gone.  Shouta clenched his teeth, and didn’t release until his student got back up.  He shook off the others and attacked the remaining robots with blinding speed, shoulder visibly caved-in.  Shouta wanted to gag.  He had the growing suspicion Midoriya had some sort of disorder that made him partially numb to pain.  But how would the attacks fit into that? 

Then he showed up in the footage to erase the kid’s quirk and talk some sense into him. 

That’s enough of that, he thought as he shut off the feed.  He slouched back in his chair and sighed.  I fucked up.  His students had brushes with death before, but he couldn’t recall a time where such an incident was directly his fault.  I tried to force someone’s pain into a teachable moment, and he almost died for it.  He growled into his folded hands.  And he still had to write the official email telling everyone else about it.

There was a line for coffee in the teacher dorm lounge.  Ishiyama and Inui hovered around the machine, discussing something mundane.  Something pleasant.  How Shouta longed for his teenager executive dysfunction to say well now I have to wait.  Can’t start working before coffee.  But his adult better judgement forced him onto the couch with his laptop.  Hizashi was there already, hair down and focused on his own work.  Kan, too, in his personal lazy chair.  His email inbox wasn’t much of a distraction either.  There was only the notification from Recovery Girl about Midoriya’s prescription update reminding him to get down to business. 

“Turning today’s escort exercise, Midoriya Izuku, through no fault of his own, experienced-"

Experienced what?  Almost dying? Shouta criticized himself.  I need to open with the point.

“Due to unchecked medical issues, Midoriya Izuku will not be permitted to participate-"

No, that sounds like I’m blaming him.

“Effective immediately, Midoriya Izuku is not permitted to participate in hero training until further notice due to medical-"

No, dammit.  He deleted everything again.  Explaining that one of the kids got hurt and couldn’t do what they were at the school to do never got easier.  Maybe because it didn’t happen often.  If it was bad enough for them to go off combat, some hospital or Nezu was usually the one to break the news.  Shouta couldn’t remember ever making the call himself without expelling the kid.  Part of him wished he could give the basic answer he gave to Eri.

“He had a rough day, he’s not feeling well.”

If only it were that simple.  Shouta stretched back over the couch.  He figured he should be thankful; given the circumstances, this was not the hardest email he could have had to write that day.

“Emails?” Hizashi asked.  He didn’t look up from his work, but smirked.

“Yeah,” he sighed.  “What are you grading?”

“Grammar quizzes.”  He didn’t look up, but his expression was quizzical.  Shouta hardly ever asked about other teachers’ specific assignments. 

“My class?”

“No, 2-B.  I was worried about a few of them but so far they seem to be alright.”

“That’s good…  How is my class doing?”

“In English?  Fine, I guess,” he began.  “Iida and Yaoyorozu are still duking it out for the top spot.  Everyone else is well enough, wouldn’t say anyone’s struggling.”  Shouta nodded passively.  “…  Is, is there someone you’re worried about?”

“…  How’s Midoriya fairing?” Shouta ventured. 

“Midoriya?  He’s good.  He’s been pretty consistent most of the year.  Had a brief dip around his internship but he’s since bounced back.  Why?  What’s wrong?”

“Has his behavior been any different?”  Surely someone caught something.

“Behavior?  Hmm…  Now that you mention it, he’s been a little quieter lately.  Raising his hand less often, not as much enthusiasm for group readings,” he responded.  “I just thought he was still shaken up after the Jakku tr-”

“What about Jakku?” Nemuri asked suddenly.  She just walked in, pajama-clad and with her own stack of papers to grade.  “What happened after Jakku?”

“…  It’s Midoriya.  He’s…”  A sigh.

“What happened?”  She sounded desperate.  Why wouldn’t she be?  She had more context than anyone for how bad it really was back there.

Shouta sat up and looked around the room.  Kan was still in his chair.  Inui and Ishiyama sat at the table. 

“Okay, everyone listen up.”  They already were.  “I’m working on the email now, but just in advance: Midoriya is off combat until further notice.”

“Wait, what?” Hizashi exclaimed.

“What did he do?” Kan asked.

“Ggrrdoubt it’s his fault,” Inui barked, pointing at him.  He probably knew about some of this already.

“Calm down, that’s not even the worst of it.”  Oh, that was a mistake.

“’The worst?’” they all shouted.

“Hush!”

Shouta took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair.  You people are worse than the kids sometimes...

“For a few days now, Midoriya has been experiencing periodic instances of pain.  And today, during training, he had one during an escort simulation.  And, fell…”  It hurt to say.  “About four stories,” he breathed the last bit.

“What?!”

“Is he okay?”

While the other teachers fired rapid questions like overbearing reporters, Nemuri silently got up and headed for the door.

“Where are you going?” Shouta called.

“I’m going to check on him, where is he?” she challenged.

“No!  No, you’re not.”  He shot up.  “He’s safe and relaxing with the others.  You’re not going to bother him in the middle of the night.”

“The others?  Why isn’t he in Recovery Girl’s office?”

“He walked away with a broken color bone and a concussion, she cleared him,” he explained, still in some disbelief himself.

“What?  You sure he fell from that high, then?” Ishiyama questioned.

“Yaoyorozu made a crash pad and caught him.”

“No, some higher power took pity on him ‘cause a crash pad ain’t doing much at that height,” Kan shouted.

“I don’t care!” Shouta yelled back.  The other teachers shut up.  “He survived with injuries that aren’t permanent, that’s what matters.  But he’s still hurt and upset.  So, no one,” he pointed to Nemuri,” no one, is going to make him feel worse.  Not tonight.”

“Why, why would going to check on him make him feel worse?” Ishiyama questioned.  Inui beat Shouta to the response.

“Sensitive kid.  Very self-critical of his own worth, ruff.”  The dog-like man looked down into his coffee.  He hesitated before continuing, internally debating how much he could say without violating patient confidentiality.  “His self-esteem is deeply intertwined with his abilities as an independent hero.  Taking him out of training is likely a major blow.”

“…  I didn’t make the decision lightly,” Shouta assured.  It was temporary besides.  All Midoriya had to do was suck it up (bad choice of words) until they found a way to deal with the pain spasms.  Either that or let him keep going and tempt the worst.  “I understand, though.  He didn’t take it well.”  He sat back down and rubbed his face.

“Yeah, and that’s why I wanted to check on him.  No offense, but you’re not great with crying kids,” Nemuri argued.

“He didn’t cry.”

“He di- what?”

“No tears.  Pulled away when I tried to comfort him, and when I explained he wasn’t being punished he,” he took a deep breath.  “He snapped back at me.”

"Doesn't like touching," Inui grumbled.

“Yeah, okay.  Angry kids talk back,” Kan said.

“Not him,” Hizashi argued.  “Has Midoriya ever lashed out at any of you?”

Everyone else shook their heads.

“I don’t think I’ve ever even heard him raise his voice outside of training…” Nemuri remarked quietly as she returned to the couch.

“Me neither.  He’s been hurt before, in trouble before…”  Shouta stared at the blank email in front of him.  “I think whatever’s wrong is worse than he’s letting on.”

The movie was good, though it was clearly made with a pre-existing audience in mind.  It took more than twice as long as the actual runtime to get through since they had to pause at least once per scene to look up context.  Some efforts sent the students down half an hour rabbit holes of discussion.  Izuku participated only sparingly, as Superman had a relatively small role and he knew nothing about his evil counterpart, Ultraman.  For once, the others took the lead in the nerd session.  The talking died down and most fell asleep by the end credits.

Izuku wasn’t one of them.  The mac and cheese sat like a rock in his gut.  Whatever painkillers Recovery Girl gave him wore off and his shoulder throbbed against the brace.  His eyes ached from staring at the too-bright TV in the dark.  To lessen the pain in his neck, he had to hold it perfectly straight and forward.  Easier said than done with Uraraka and Aoyama leaning on either side of him in their sleep.  Todoroki’s draped his legs over his lap, Mineta’s half-empty popcorn tin was on top of them.  The weight pushed him further into the crease.  Tsuyu sat on the floor and leaned against his own legs.  Izuku wasn’t a touchy-feely person on a good day.  The pain and dread amplified discomfort that was already there.  Normally he’d already be half-asleep and beyond the point of caring.  Now, he felt crushed. 

Carefully as he could, he untangled himself from his friend’s limbs.  Uraraka tried to hang on to his arm, but he managed to pry her of without being floated away.  Lucky Iida wasn’t there; he tended to hold on a bit tighter.

Wait, where’s Iida?

As if in response, the faucet in the kitchen turned on.  Izuku waded through the plies of his sleeping classmates to get closer.  There was only just enough light. 

“Hey, Midoriya.  Couldn’t sleep either?” Iida asked as he washed off some silverware in the sink. 

“Yeah,” he yawned.  “I don’t think a slumber party is going to do my neck any favors.”

Iida hummed.  He paused his washing but didn’t look up. 

“When...  When we, I, saw you fall…  What happened out there?  I-if you don’t mind me asking.”  Iida’s concern wasn’t as suffocating.  For starters, he waited until they were alone to start asking questions.  It was only fair Izuku answer him.

“No, no, it’s fine…  You know those weird pain spasms I’ve been having?”

“You had one in midair!?”  He immediately covered his mouth when he realized his volume.  Across the room, no one stirred.  Then he whispered, “Most of us thought you had been hit with a piece of debris.  Do you have any idea what triggered it?”

“…  No.  And Recovery Girl isn’t sure what’s causing them either,” he moped.  “They just come out of nowhere.  It’s usually when I’m out and active, but I’ve run through a bunch of stretches and movements to test them…  Nothing.”  He rested his chin on the counter.  “Aizawa-sensei told me I can’t participate in hero simulations until it’s under control.”  The words fell out of his mouth and he instantly regretted them.

“…Oh.  That is…  Unfortunate.”  Iida wasn’t sure how to respond.  That much was clear.  Izuku wasn’t sure how he wanted him to respond either.  But he’d had more than enough of pity and the awkward silence.  So he changed the subject.

“You’re doing your project on the Flash, right?  What did you think of the movie?  Flash had some good moments.”

“Ah, yes, the Flash,” he started.  “The original speedster.  I admit, the movie’s depiction was much more in line with the goal of my project than my initial choice of comic.”

“What do you mean?  Which comic?” he asked genuinely.

“According to my research, the Flash is often depicted as the comedic heart of the Justice League.  ‘The fastest man alive is always late because he stopped to befriend the people he saved.’  A quote I found.  I quite like the sentiment.”  He paused.  “However, the comic I first chose to focus on, ‘Flashpoint,’ doesn’t feature this aspect as prominently.”

“I’ve heard of ‘Flashpoint.’  That’s the time travel one the old live-action movies tried to adapt whenever they wanted to reboot things, right?” he asked.  Some of the Superman movies he watched for his own project referenced them, though he hadn't found the time to watch the films themselves.  Plus there were like five of them.

“Correct,” Iida confirmed.  “It rebooted the DC comic book universe as well, originally.  In it, the Flash finds himself in an alternate timeline.  His own life is seemingly better, but the rest of the world and its heroes are in chaos.  So, he must go to great lengths and bodily harm to attempt to fix things…  The story is neither funny, nor uplifting.”  His face was hard.  “It is later revealed that he was the cause of all the suffering; he created the alternate reality through a misguided effort to change his own history.  And because it was changed, he never became the Flash in the new world, and was never there to assist his comrades in the formation of the Justice League,” he finished.

“Wow,” was all Izuku could think to say.  The butterfly came to mind, and he shuddered.

“You know, it sort of reminded me of you.”  His smile was tired but soft.

Iida, that was literally the worst thing you could have said right now.  “How so?”  Maybe his perspective wouldn’t be too bad…

“Ever since the school year started, you’ve been a crucial fixture in most of our lives.”  He gestured towards the others.  “I overheard Tsuyu and Mineta talking about what you did at the USJ; Tokoroki and Aoyama may have never opened up as much as they have without your influence…  Not to mention, you saved me from Stain…”

Not you too…  “Anyone would have!” he blurted.

“But they didn’t.  You did.  And I can’t thank you enough for that.”

“…  Thanks.”  I hate this.

Chapter Text

The dread wasn’t as bad the next day, but a lot of other things were worse.  Recovery Girl didn’t give Izuku the clear for the brace.  She said she wanted to give it another day, just in case.  Which meant another day without a proper shower.  He swore he could feel the building grease weighing down his hair.  And brace or not, he was still concussed.  That meant no strenuous activity.  It didn’t matter anyway.  The only heavy activity he had planned for the day besides training that he was banned from was his daily jog with All Might.  And he didn’t show up.

Izuku didn’t start feeling the symptoms of the concussion until the bus ride to the USJ.  He’d never noticed how bumpy it was.  Each bounce jostled his head into a deeper migraine.  Too hard to hide.  The others at least kept the noise down.  Yaoyorozu eventually made him a pillow to lean into.  But by then they were basically there.

Aizawa held him up while the others went inside the facility.

“You have two options,” he opened.  “Either you can sit passively and make up today’s credit some other time.  Or,” he held up a blank notebook and pencil.  “You can keep a detailed account of what your peers do, critiques and all, and get credit now.”

Izuku hesitated, then took the book.

“I’ll do this, thank you,” he responded with a pitiful attempt at enthusiasm. The effects of the bus ride lingered.

“Good.”  Relief swam beneath his flat tone.  He led him inside and they trailed behind the others.

“Welcome back, everyone!” Thirteen greeted outside the entrance to the Landslide Zone.  “Today, we begin our week-long unit on earthquake rescue.”

Excited murmurs swept through the class.  Izuku copied down the instructions diligently.  For the next few days, class 1-A would work together in the Landslide Zone to retrieve mannequins from the rubble.  More factors would be added each time, but for the first round it was as simple as that.

A pang of jealousy struck Izuku’s heart as he watched his friends leap into action at the starting buzzer.  The observation deck felt so far away.  He sat cross-legged right at the edge with the notebook in his lap.  The longing was familiar.  He recalled quirk training class back in elementary school.  While everyone else got to play around with their shiny new quirks, he was stuck on the sidelines.  Teachers gave him extra homework or just made him watch.  That happened during recess sometimes too.  Some teachers figured out it was easier to keep the quirkless kid isolated from everyone else rather than actually pay attention and enforce the no-quirks rule.  They always looked at him like he was a novelty, an annoyance, or some fragile waif they had to ‘save.’  Izuku hated that last one most of all.  At least he did that day, after his current teachers kept sneaking glances at him like he was going to keel over any second.

But I’m at U.A. now, Izuku thought.  I have a quirk.  The teachers are good people and they care about me.  This sort of thing is supposed to be behind me.  The migraine throbbed behind his eyes.  The thought that he might be regressing into that way of life invited the return of the dread.

He wished he could help instead of just write down how they could do better.  If he had an earpiece, he could guide them over the terrain thanks to his vantage point.  Or he could carry lightweight supplies to them while they worked.  Or be in the medical tent and assess the victims’ injuries.  Anything but-

“But what?” Aizawa asked.  Izuku flinched.  He forgot he wasn’t alone.

“Sorry,” he said quietly.

“For what?”

“Distracting you.”  He rolled the pencil between his fingers.

“You’re the one who seems distracted,” he countered.

“…  I’m sorry.”

“Stop apologizing.”  Izuku wilted and Aizawa sighed.  “What are they doing wrong?”

“Uh,” he stammered at the sudden subject change.  Below, his class spread out over the disaster area.  They worked in small groups locating, digging up, and moving mannequins.  Shoji and Jirou moved slowly in the center of the action, directing the others to more targets.  It seemed an efficient system.  Too efficient.  “They’re, they’re going too fast.  The ground isn’t set.  A wrong move could cause it to shift or collapse further.  They might hurt themselves or anyone still buried beneath them.”

“What else?” his teacher asked without missing a beat.  Izuku looked back out over the field.

“Um, I think Shoji and Jirou are too close together,” he ventured.  “They’re both listening for survivors, but I think they could cover a bigger area if they moved apart.”

“Why do you think they aren’t?”

He had to think for a moment.  “I, I think, it looks like everyone is trying to stick together.  They don’t have another way to communicate, so they’re staying within shouting distance.  But shouting interferes with the listening quirks.”  Izuku tugged at his lip.  “They should have split in half, each group with one listener.  Started at either end of the disaster area and worked their way towards the middle.”

“Hmm,” Aizawa huffed.  “What are some factors they would have to consider in a real earthquake aftermath, not just a simulation.”  He wasn’t giving him much room to think.

“Well, the weather is one thing,” Izuku began.  “The USJ is covered and temperature-controlled, and the Landslide Zone doesn’t have the features to make artificial wind or rain.  There also aren’t many large debris objects.  A rural area might also have fallen trees to contend with, and an urban one would have more buildings and vehicles.  Plus, damaged electrical lines that could be harmful on their own and could start fires.  Opportunistic villains might also get in the way, but I feel like that’s going to come up later in the week…”  He took a breath.  A morbid thought struck him.  “And all the mannequins are the same.  In real life, they’d have to prioritize the living over the dead.”

Aizawa nodded once.  Izuku wrote it all down.  Or tried to.  The migraine hadn’t dissipated.  As time went on, it became harder to concentrate on the tiny words.  He tried to blink away the ache.  Then Aizawa put his hand in front of the notebook.  Izuku tightened his grip and flinched away again.

“I’m not gonna take it from you, kid.  Just take a break.”  It wasn’t a suggestion.  Reluctantly, Izuku relaxed his shoulders and put his pencil down.  He gazed wistfully across the field to his classmates.  “It’s busy work, not a term paper,” Aizawa said.  “I know it sucks, but if you want to heal, you need to take it easy.”

“I know,” Izuku moped.  He said the same thing the night before.  “I’m sorry I snapped at you last night.”

“Didn’t I tell you to stop apologizing?”  It might have been a tease.  “It’s fine, anyways.  I would have said worse at your age in your situation.”

“Wha-what do you mean?” he questioned.

“I would have cussed up a storm,” Aizawa answered with one of his creepy smiles.

That brought out Izuku’s first real smile of the day.

The migraine swapped intensity back with the dread by the late afternoon.  The anxiety meds must have worn off, but Izuku couldn’t take the next dose for a few hours still.  Breathing exercises didn’t help no matter how many times he ran through them.  His only other option for relief was to “make use of his support network,” as Hound Dog said.  But he didn’t want to be weighed down by the knowledge of his apparent illness.  Just for that day, he wanted to hang out with people who didn’t know. 

“Hey Midoriya! Over here!” Mirio flagged him down just outside the library.  Izuku waved back and trotted over.  “Got what you need?”

“Yes.  Thank you for letting me study with you today, Mirio-senpai,” he responded.

“No problem.  It get you need to assert your dominance over your peers by hanging out with your upperclassmen friends every once in a while, I get it,” he said with a wink.

“Wha-what?  No, tha-that’s no-“

“Dude, it’s a joke, relax.”  He punched Izuku’s shoulder lightly, the one with the brace.  He had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from whimpering at the wave of pain that bled through the rest of his torso.  “You really need to work on that sense of humor.”

“I’m trying,” he replied through a broken smile and clenched teeth.  He didn’t hold it against Mirio, his uniform covered the brace.  But he did briefly rethink how ungrateful he’d been for classmates conscious and cautious of his injuries.

Mirio led him to a shaded area of stone tables just off U.A.’s main building.  Amajiki was already at one, faceplanted into an open textbook.  Eri met them halfway.

“Hi Deku!” she yelled as she ran up.

“Hello again, Eri,” he greeted with a smile.  He let her lead him to his seat by his scarred hand.  Crayons and paper took up about half the table.  Eri got right back to coloring once Izuku sat down.  The other half were the others’ study materials.  “Hello, Amajiki-senpai.”

The older boy groaned without lifting his head.

“They’re doing a big fieldwork assignment about the history of villains’ rights.  Dense stuff,” Mirio explained, taking his own seat.

“’Villain’s rights?’” Izuku questioned.

“Yeah, like what constitutes excessive force and proper treatment in jail, that sort of thing.”

“It’s so hard!” Amajiki whined as he raised his head.  “We have to recount a recent arrest we were a part of, in detail, and relate each step taken to a legal precedent.  It’s like, twelve pages.”

“Third year, wooh!” Mirio cheered with pumped fists.  Then he gestured over Amijiki’s miserable face.  “Behold freshman, your future.”  Amajiki side-eyed him.  Eri giggled.  Izuku just exhaled through his nose. 

“What are you working on, Mirio-senpai?”

“Oh, you guys are gonna be so jealous.  Us Gen-Ed dudes, we’re getting crazy with, get this, a journal entry about current events unrelated to heroes in our home town!”  He snapped his fingers and pointed at the others.  “I am dying.”

“That sounds so goddamn easy,” Amajiki mumbled bitterly.

“But it’s booorriiing,” he bemoaned.  “It is impossible to squeeze four pages of content out of a guy winning a hotdog eating contest in America.”

“I don’t know how you could get more than a paragraph out of it.  ‘Guy from Japan.  Goes to America.  Eats more whatever-you-saids than other guys.  End.’”

Even Amajiki-senpai makes jokes, Izuku pondered while Eri and Mirio laughed some more.

“Yeah still, at least it’s something.  Remember that small town we went on a field trip to as first years?” Mirio started.  “They just had a mass panic caused by the first double homicide there in years.  And this girl in my class who’s from there can’t touch it because heroes.”  Izuku froze.  “No other news out of the place since, so she’s got nothi-”

“Was it Jakku?” Izuku interrupted.

“What?  Oh!  Oh, you guys were there,” he realized while covering his mouth.  “Let’s m-”

“The people I spoke to there said no one from Jakku has ever gotten into U.A.,” he questioned tightly.  Dread clawed at the back of his throat.

“Well, uh, I don’t think that’s true.  I think there’s a couple Jakku people here,” he said casually.  To him, it was a normal question, preferable to the murders.  “There’s the girl in my class, don’t know her name yet…”  He transferred not too long ago.

“The guy in Support who mends my cowl is from there,” Amajiki piped up.

“Oh, and remember Akai from Business?  Nejire’s first girlfriend?  She was a Jakku chick, wasn’t she?”

“Definitely had the accent.”

“Yeah, I think whoever you talked to was full of it,” Mirio concluded.

Izuku looked down at his hands.  Then why would those guys on the mountain say all that?  …  None of those examples are in the hero course.  That must be the only thing that matters to them.  He wasn't sure how to feel about the revelation.

“So.”  Mirio clapped his hands.  “Sorry for the tangent.  We’re here for you.  You said in your text you wanted advice on a research project?”

“O-oh yeah, that,” Izuku responded passively.  His request to Mirio wasn’t a lie per se, more of an excuse.  His main goal was to be with people ignorant of his condition, but he wouldn’t pass up free advice.  “I’m working on an art history project for Midnight.  The one about pre-quirk comic books.”

“Heck yeah!”

“Ugh,” Amajiki groaned and slammed his fast back down into his book.  Eri laughed at him, and punched his shoulder like Mirio would.

“Huh?”

“He’s just having war flashbacks to his project,” Mirio said as if that were enough to explain it.  He elaborated after a second or two of looking at Izuku’s confused face.  “He bit off more than he could chew with this guy Animal Man.  Picked him because he could recreate the abilities of animals like he can with food, and chose his most popular story.  What was it called?”

“’The Coyote Gospel,’” Amajiki spat with the passion of a long-held grudge.

“Lot of meta layers in that one,” Mirio joked.  Then to his friend, “Turned out good, though.”

“I still have nightmares about that presentation,” he grumbled.

“Who did you write about, Senpai?” Izuku asked.

“My girl!  Shadowcat!” he shouted.  Some spooked birds flew from the bushes.  He waved his hands around.  “And something about the combat potential of non-combat powers, whatever.  But!  Back on task again, who are you talking about?”

“Superman, and the balance of real and symbolic power,” Izuku explained.

“Sounds fun!” Mirio said before bumping Izuku’s shoulder again.  He couldn’t swallow his yelp of pain that time.  “Woah, sorry, dude.  Are you okay?”

“Fine!” he blurted louder than he meant as he clutched the front of his shoulder.  “Fine, just, I hurt myself in training yesterday.  No big deal.”

“Are you sure?” Amajiki asked.  He and Eri eyed him worriedly.  The latter looked like she was about to cry.

“I’m okay, don’t worry about it,” Izuku forced.  The pain took its sweet time to fade.  He kept his head down to hide forming tears.  Like a life line, his phone rang.  He snatched it from his bag and retreated out of the plaza.  “Sorry guys gotta take this I’m sorry bye!”  He was so focused on getting away he didn’t check the caller ID.

“Hi Izuku!”

“Oh, hey Mom,” he greeted loudly.  “What’s up?”

“Well, I just finished packing for Lamu and I was wondering if you wanted me to bring you anything from home before I leave town,” she said.

Izuku sat in the grass a good distance from the school building, and mentally smacked himself.  He completely forgot about Mom’s business trip.

“Uh, um, no.  I-I think I’m good.”  She didn’t need to see him falling apart at the seams.  She had enough going on.

“Are you sure?  I’m not going to be back until the Tuesday after next.”

“Yeah, I know.”  He didn’t.  “But I have everything I need here.  A-and if I don’t, I have the house key, remember?”

“I know, I know.  But it’s a long way over here and I don’t want you to take too much time out of your day.”   Sometimes, it was annoying how much she put him before herself.

“That’s, that’s why you don’t need to come all the way out here when I don’t need anything,” he tried to say cheerily.

“…  Sweetheart, is something wrong?  You sound a little off.”

“Wha- no, it’s fine.  I’m fine,” he deflected.  “Actually, I’m still a little flustered.  You just saved me from a really awkward conversation with some upperclassmen, so thanks for that.”

“Awkward how?  Were they teasing you?” she asked, genuinely concerned.

“No.  Well, kinda, but they weren’t mean about it.  Just some stuff about girls, not important,” he improvised.

“What were they saying?”  Her voice bordered on joking and genuine interest.

“Nothing, nothing.  They were just, uh, they were saying, they, they all, uh,” he stammered around the hole he just dug himself.  “They all had girlfriends by this time their first years, and uh, they were joking that I don’t.  Then they were saying all this stuff about the girls in my class and it was just really awkward.  Thanks again for bailing me out…  What are you doing in Lamu again?”

“Me and the others are catering a small medical conference,” she declared.  The details rushed back to Izuku.  She sounded excited, and why shouldn’t she be?  The catering business she helped found was finally getting a higher-profile event, and she was getting out of town for the first time in forever.  “What about you?  How are you holding up?”  And he had no right to ruin that for her.

“I’m doing better, I think,” he lied.  “Hound Dog-sensei linked me to some breathing exercises,” that don’t work, “and Recovery Girl said the school will cover anxiety medication if I end up needing it, which I doubt.”  I took some last night.  I wish I could take more now.  A thick coat of frost spread over his lungs.

“Okay…  Is there anything you want to talk about?  Anything at all?”  She sounded almost, but not quite convinced.  The same as always. 

But I’m supposed to be better.  The days of quirkless bullying are over, and so is trying to hide it.  Mom won’t be mad at me if I turned around now.  It’s still early enough.

A confession died on his tongue. 

“I’m okay, Mom.  But I’ll call you if anything else come up.”  The frost grew into icicles that pierced his insides.  A single tear fell.

“You better.  My phone’s always on,” she encouraged, oblivious.  “Last call for stuff.”

“I said I’m fine,” he fake-chuckled.

“Okay, okay.”  She took a breath.  “I love you, Baby.”

“I love you too, Mom,” he choked.  The call ended, and he hugged his knees in shame.  Izuku just sat there for a while, letting the dread roll through him.  He deserved it. 

Mirio and the others are probably still waiting for me, he thought after some time.  As if weighed down by an unseen burden, he stood up and meandered back to the stone tables.  On his way, he saw fluffy blond hair poking up above the surrounding shrubs, and he walked a little slower. 

And then, because he didn’t feel bad enough, an attack hit.  He was on the ground in an instant.  The icicles were trying to burrow their way out of his chest through his back.  They dragged muscle and bone with them.  Izuku wheezed into the grass, silently praying for it to just be over with. 

The whole thing was less than twenty seconds, and left him winded as if he’d kept up a sprint for that long.  Right as it dissipated, large hands gently gripped his shoulders.  A deep voice whispered things that didn’t matter, but were still comforting. 

Izuku didn’t lift his head while All Might guided him back to the stone tables.  He weaved his feet between the cracks in the pavement.  Mirio, Amajiki, and Eri were gone, along with their belongings.  All that remained was his own stuff.  His notes were tucked under his laptop so they wouldn’t be blown away.  Among them was a little drawing of cats colored like his and his upperclassmen’s hero costumes, along with a tiny white kitten with a horn.  Above them, a signed message wishing him to feel better soon.  All Might signed the corner:

“You can always talk to me.”

It made Izuku nauseous again.

They didn’t talk for a long time.  Neither did Izuku look up at him.  Instead, he watched him fidget with his hands in his lap.  Eventually, All Might reached into his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief.  He offered it to Izuku.

“You have dirt on your forehead…” he said softly.  Izuku took it, and wiped his face, still without looking up, before giving it back.  He hesitantly held it up.  “You, missed a spot.”  He said it like an apology.  Izuku stole a glance up.  His teacher’s ached expression asked permission to touch him.  Izuku closed his eyes, reluctantly granting it.  All Might lightly ran the little cloth over his temple.  “You’ll still probably need a shower.”

Izuku bristled.  “I can’t until I get the brace off.”  All Might flinched, then tucked away the dirty handkerchief.

“I know, I’m sorry,” he breathed.  He looked older when he was sad; his gaunt features matched a tired expression and worked like an age multiplier.  Izuku suddenly wanted to get the conversation over with.

“You watched the footage from yesterday.”  He didn’t mean for it to sound like an accusation.  All Might sat up to the challenge.

“Yes, I did.  And do you know what happened?”

“I was there…”

“Not for all of it, apparently.”  Izuku tilted his head with a squint.  “Right after you fell, for six or seven seconds, you didn’t get up.  You just laid still face-first on the concrete, your shoulder mangled, your classmates crying around you, screaming at each other about whether or not to move you,” he elaborated.  Izuku’s will to argue evaporated when his saw the tears in the corner of his hero’s eyes.  “That was the first thing I saw when I woke up this morning.  My student, my successor, dead in the street.”  His voice cracked.  All Might’s voice actually cracked. 

“I’m sorry,” Izuku squeaked.  The weight of the situation finally started to dawn on him.

All Might sighed; not frustrated or disappointed, just tired.

“Young Midoriya, I’m not…  I’m not your parent, I’m not your keeper.  Being your teacher and mentor doesn’t entitle me to your life.  You don’t have to talk to me about anything you’re uncomfortable with, or really anything at all.  But,” he paused to rub his face.  “Why did you keep all this to yourself?”

It’s not like it’s hard, he though bitterly.  I just did it again to my own mother.

“I-I do-don’t kn-know,” Izuku whimpered.  “I thought, I thought i-it wo-would go away, on its own…”  He stared down at his own, shaking hands.  All Might offered one of his, and he took it as the tears flooded over.

“I didn’t come here to make you feel bad, kid.  I came to make sure you were okay,” he said with a sad smile.  Izuku hiccuped.  “Hey.  Hey, look at me.”  He did, however heavy his head felt.  “I want you to promise me you’re going to be honest from now on, okay?  With this, and everything else going forward.  Can you do that for my, my boy?”  He nodded.  “Can you say it, please?” All Might asked with hopeful eyes.

“Y-yes, I'll be honest,” Izuku answered.  His teacher’s smile grew warm.

“That’s my boy.”  He squeezed his hand, and ran the other through his student’s hair.  They took a moment to just breathe.  “Aizawa’s email said that you started some kind of treatment?”

“Mmhm.  Anxiety pills,” he supplied, wiping his face.

“And how has that been working?”

“I took my first dose last night.  I-I felt a little better this morning, but I think it’s starting to ware off.  Can’t take any more until later tonight.”

“And that’s the truth?”

Izuku nodded fiercely.

Hours after midnight, Izuku was still wide awake.  The dose of painkillers he took before bed were running out.  Anxiety crap, too.  He could feel it.  Every position did something to irritate a different injury.  The faint light of the moon through his curtains was too bright.  Each creak and click of the building existed to personally offend him.  Alone with his thoughts, the gravity of everything finally sunk in. 

I could have died.  That would have been it.  All my hard work, all the teachers’ efforts on me, the legacy of One for All, over.  For nothing.  His eyes started to sting.  What would that have done to my teammates?  I took not reaching Mina hard, even though she was fine.  I can’t even imagine.  I can.  They would have blamed themselves.  Aizawa too.  Would they be messed up like I am now from the diner?  Would it have killed them later on, too?

“I could have died,” he repeated under his breath.  What would happen to Mom?  Who would be the one to tell her?  What would she say?  “I warned him.  I should have never let him go back.”  How would All Might react?  If earlier today was bad…  How would Dad react?  Izuku rubbed his eyes and rolled over.  His shoulder and back throbbed.  He growled.

And it’s still not over!  How much longer is this going to go on?  Not just tonight, but how many nights after?  When is this going to stop?  Why won’t it stop!?  Dread injected chest pain into every hiccup and sniffle.

Through silent, frustrated tears, he opened his phone to search for updates about the Jakku investigation.  What else was he going to do?  Three weeks out, and more specific details were finally available.  Both murders took place between 2 and 2:30 in the morning, though it appeared the younger man had been killed first.  His name was Watahashi Takuyu, he was twenty-three, and he had been out of town for a few days visiting a friend until he returned that night.  He had some sort of teleportation quirk, so there were no travel records to show wherever he had been.  But that wasn’t as important.  The weapon or quirk that killed him went through his back, up into his neck and severed his brain stem.  He died instantly.  A slight phantom pain made Izuku’s back twitch.

The other man was his father, Watahashi Hibiki, who owned the diner.  There was a statement from Pathfinder that the man had quickly arose from bed, drove to the diner, and was murdered less than fifteen minutes after his son.  Evidence showed that he was left to bleed to death from the wounds on his stomach and face.  Apparently, the killer stayed inside the building for a while after, before fleeing out the back door into the woods not an hour before the scene was discovered.

By me.  Izuku gagged.  What kind of monster could just hang around while someone was dying?  And only an hour before us…  We could have caught them.  Against his better judgement, he dug deeper.

Investigators didn’t believe the killer was a Jakku local.  The black feathers and lack of foot prints leaving the scene suggested a wing quirk, which no one in the area had.  More were found around the perimeter, but never within the town's limits or on a hiking trail.  The feathers had also been in poor condition; often they were dirty and missing follicles, or otright broken or misshapen.  The accompanying images of them made Izuku sick to his stomach.  Some articles speculated that those elements pointed to an individual who lived off the grid or some sort of animal with a quirk.  A journalist with a feather-wing quirk commented that flight would be impossible if the feathers were in that bad a shape.

The denizens of Jakku’s hero forum seemed to agree.  Several people argued that if the killer had simply flown away, Pathfinder would have been able to see its path in the air.  Multiple anecdotes about the sidekick chasing down escaped pet birds took up the page.  A handful suggested the theory that the killer could teleport, too.  The rest of the space was occupied by conspiracy theories about Pathfinder being in on it, and others rushing to his defense. 

Izuku counted almost quadruple the usernames as last time.  It would be weird for a small town not to get invested in the first local murder in years.  Even more so since the town had issued a curfew that had only recently been lifted.  Most agreed that this meant the authorities believed the killer was no longer in the area.  Others noted that the curfew only ended after the cases of missing food did.  Yes, people were still on that.  Though most of them were in the anti-Pathfinder camp; apparently, he had been too busy helping with the murder investigation to check who stole the food.  And his quirk's limit was up by the time he was available, days after food stopped disappearing.

A series of bangs came from down stairs.  Izuku jumped and dropped his phone.  Then there was a low whirring noise.  He sighed.  His dorm was just above the laundry room; the machines were crappy enough and it sounded like someone had done something wrong.

“Who the hell does laundry at two in the morning,” he grumbled to himself.  He was half-tempted to go down and see who it was, so he knew who to kick extra hard when he got back into hero training.

Noise begrudgingly accepted, he went back to the forums.  The only piece of the Pathfinder debate worth noting was that most of the info about what transpired in the diner came from him.  The diner definitely had security cameras, according to one guy who got caught cheating on his partner there.  Izuku went back to the articles and official statements to check, and found multiple conflicting statements about the cameras; some said they weren’t on that night, others said they just hadn’t seen anything.

Okay, that’s a little weird, Izuku admitted.  He heard another bang, this time of a door slamming.  He sighed.  Some people are trying to pretend to sleep, dammit.

The dread tightened at a thread towards the bottom.

“This just goes to what ive been saying. the ua brats just bring trouble but cant do shit to stop it.”

“I met the little green bastard from the seminar on the mountain the morning of he was probably on the team that found the scene.”

“He’s probably getting a free ride on association.”

“God did you hear how Stripes and Cheat were drooling over him?”

“What a bwave wittle baby, walking into a room with dead people.  We better praise him to high hell for existing.”

“If the little fucker hadn’t been wasting time he might have been there to do his supposed job.”

Izuku chucked his phone across the room in time with another bang.  Then he screamed into his pillow.  I tried!  I’m sorry!  I tried, dammit!  I was following directions.  I did my best.  But I could have done better.  And now I’m paying for it, are you happy?  Does me suffering now make up for it?  Is that why?  No!  I’ve been over this.  What else could I have done?  I didn’t know something was happening!  I was following orders!  Pathfinder’s the one who told me what to do.  But I listened…  I had no reason not to!  I trusted him!  Like you guys do!  And he didn’t even humor you by checking the paths of the food thieves!  …  Wait.

Another bang.

The curfew only ended after the cases of missing food stopped.  Then another said that Pathfinder had been too busy scanning the woods for the murderer to check who took the food, and by the time he was available, his quirk limit had expired.  But Pathfinder’s statement said that the killer’s path never appeared within the city limits.  But what if the killer was a teleporter, and only ever appeared inside?

Bang.

Izuku froze.  The curfew was lifted on Friday, a week after the murders, and three days after food stopped going missing.  So, the food thing stopped on Tuesday, which was two weeks ago…

Bang.

Food started going missing here a couple days later…

Bang.

The feathers suggested someone living off the grid.  Walking distance between here and Jakku was about a week.

Bang.

No evidence on cameras.  A teleporter, even a short range one, wouldn’t need to break in.

Click.  Bang. 

That was on this floor.  Down the hall.  On instinct, he retreated from his bed to the corner.  The door would block whatever-it-was’s view of him when it swung open.

Click.  Bang.

Wait, what am I doing?  If there’s a villain in the dorms, I need to subdue them before they hurt anyone or get away.  But I’m injured.  I’ve had worse. 

Click.  Bang.

He heard light footsteps then.  But what about the attacks?  If I have one while fighting, it could kill me.  Heroes must always be willing to lay down their lives for others.

Click.  Bang.

That was Aoyama’s door.  The steps came closer slowly.  They were fast but uneven; whoever it was must have had a limp.  Or maybe more limbs than normal.  Wait, the emergency line!  I could text Aizawa-sensei and he can get help! was his thought process right before he realized that his phone was still on the floor, several feet away.  The footsteps stopped.

Something swiped trough the gap in his door, breaking the lock with a click that made Izuku’s skin crawl.  He held his breath.  Two seconds of long, cold silence.  Then, the door slammed open.  The noise made his ears ring.  It swung over Izuku and hit the wall, forcing him to squish back.  It blocked his view.  He covered his mouth with his hands.  The light from the hall cast a large, amorphous shadow across his wall.  Whatever it was hesitated. 

Please leave.  Just look and leave.  Move on so I can call Aizawa, please.

But it didn’t.  Instead of leaving for the next room, the thing took two (maybe three?) shambling steps into the room.  It was a miracle Izuku could hear them over the blood pounding in his ears.  The shadow shifted; it was looking around at his room.  Another few steps.  A few quiet clicks.  He could probably see the thing itself if he moved his head, which he was not willing to do.  It turned towards his desk.  Sweat mixed with tears.  His whole body shook.  Go away go away go away! 

It turned again and pushed the door back, into Izuku’s foot.  Both paused.  There was a low gurgle.  It pushed the door into him again.  A hiss.  The dread festered.  Then, the all too familiar crack of broken bones. 

A long, crooked, limb slammed into the wall in front of him.  The claw at the end dug deep into the drywall.  It was covered in messy black feathers.

Izuku folded into himself.  He couldn’t breathe.  Another bone-white, jagged claw curved around the door.  Up close, it was the length of his forearm and was cloaked at the base by more feathers.  The point dragged a deep cut through the wood.  It moved the door away slowly. 

It happened in slow motion at first.  A torn ear framed by long, greasy hair came into view.  Darkness obscured the rest of its face.  The head was a silhouette against the light on his wall.  A single eye became visible.  The tiny pupil glowed red and drilled right into Izuku’s heart. 

One for All wouldn’t come to him.  A third limb he couldn’t quite see blocked the escape beneath the first one.  He wouldn’t be fast enough to jump over its head without his quirk.  Who knows how it would react if he screamed.  Images of the scene at the diner flashed through his mind.  For a moment, Izuku saw himself face-down in a pool of dried blood, bones poking through a hole in his back.  Someone please find me! he screamed on the inside.  Dread chilled his blood.

The vague shape of the thing’s mouth shifted into view.  It wheezed as it breathed.  Hot, humid air blew into Izuku’s face.  It smelled like the diner; like death.

The instant he so much as thought about maybe kicking, Izuku’s stomach dropped out.  For a moment, he felt nothing.  Then, he felt everything.  The spears in his back, the cold fingers in his chest, the dread in his soul.  He fell the rest of the way to the floor.  His blood burned, his lungs shriveled, his teeth shot up into his brain.  Efforts to struggle were barely a twitch; attempts to scream were little more than a whine.  All the while the thing stood over him; it bared its too-many teeth as its feathers writhed.  A twisted parody of a human voice howled straight into his bones.  A skeletal hand with rotten fingernails reached for his face.  Izuku didn’t even have enough function to cry.

Bile filled his throat.  He couldn’t turn his head.  Something in his hair turned it for him.  He swatted at it with all the strength he could muster, which wasn’t much.  There were voices around him, and bright light.  But all he could make out were shapes and shadows.  Dread made him heavy and hollow all at once.  He retched again.  This time there was a something in front of him.  The resistance of a solid object was there, but not the texture of touching something.  Other resistances held him up.  Something then tried to touch his face again and he ducked away from what he couldn’t hit. But he still didn’t have his quirk.  This time, real sound accompanied his yell.

“-wro-“

“-s bad-“

“-elp-“

“-oesn’t kn-“

He hadn’t stopped shaking.

“-oriya-“

“-s really b-d.”

“-ive him s-ce.”

“Th-s is sca- what i-“

“W- need to g-t him to the nu-e’s office.”

“Mido-ya, can y- hear me?”

Images came back slowly.  He was in the middle of his room.  There were people around him.  There was still a hand in his hair.

“Midoriya, can you hear me?”

“…  Yes,” came the broken reply.

A collective sigh spread through the room.

“This isn’t over yet.  He needs to see Recovery Girl now.”  That voice's owner tried to pick him up gently.  Izuku still struggled.  “Relax, it’s me, it’s me.”

“…  Aizawa-sensei?” Izuku asked.

“Yep, it’s me.  Are you going to let me carry you, now?”  Hand on the side of his head.  Izuku flinched.  “It’s alright.  I’m not gonna hurt you.”

Hurt me?  Wait…

“What happened?  Did you catch the villain?” he panted.

“…  What villain?” someone asked.  It sounded like Mineta.

“The one that had me pinned down.  It was screaming at me.”

“Midoriya, there was no villain when we came in.”  Aoyama, maybe.

“But…  Wait…”

“I…  I came to invite you to breakfast, but you didn’t answer the door.”  That was Tokoyami’s voice.  “When I came in…”

“You had a seizure,” Aizawa supplied.  “We don’t know how long you were down, so we need to ge-“

“That must have been their quirk!”

“Midoriya.”

“It cornered me and made me feel one of the pain spasms.  Maybe that’s why I’ve been getting them!” 

“Mido-“

“And it had black feathers!  And huge claws that could have easily killed the men in the diner!  Did you stop it?”  He looked to his teacher like he’d just cracked an impossible puzzle, but the expression he got in response was somber.

“Midoriya, there wasn’t a-“

“There was!  It attacked me!  Look at the wall!  Look at the door!  It left,” -Tokoyami pulled the door back, revealing an unmarked surface- “scratch marks…”  There was nothing on the wall either.  “I saw it,” his voice was broken again.  The other students shared a look.

Aizawa sighed sympathetically.  “Seizures that last more than a few minutes are dangerous.  We need to take you to Recovery Girl to make sure there isn’t any lasting damage…”

Izuku didn’t fight when his teacher brought his arms up this time.  Slowly, he lifted him. 

“I felt it breath on me…”

No one responded.  At least he could cry again.

Chapter Text

Izuku couldn’t stop shaking.  He stopped crying and begging his teachers to believe him, but not shaking.  Every dark shape they drove past drew his eye.  The whole ride to the hospital he was a jittering mess.  Aizawa covered him with his coat in the car, but it didn’t help.  Straightforward fear replaced dread.

The couple of nurses waiting for them at the emergency entrance with a wheelchair didn’t help.  Izuku wanted to argue that he could walk, but they didn’t listen.  They only acknowledged when he answered basic questions about how he was feeling.  The rest of their questions about what happened were deferred to Aizawa. 

“One of my other students found him twitching and unresponsive on the floor of his room,” he explained sternly.  The atmosphere as they wheeled Izuku down the long hallway wasn’t the frantic rush he’d seen in movies.  Everyone was serious, but calm.  It only made him tenser.  “It took me a few minutes to get there, in which time his condition didn’t change.  And we don’t know how long he was down for in the first place.”

“About how long can you confirm he was unresponsive?” a nurse asked.  They turned into a small, brightly-lit room.  A second nurse with glasses wrapped a band around Izuku’s shaking wrist.

“Six minutes.  Maybe seven.”

The first nurse hissed.  “He’s at-risk, then.  What happened after?”

“Well, he threw up.  Had to turn his head so he wouldn’t choke.  He got some movement back but was still delirious.  Tried to push my hands away,” Aizawa said.  The second nurse shined a light in Izuku’s eyes.  “Then threw up again before he started talking.”

“What did he say?”

“He…  He said a villain attacked him.”  It sounded like he didn’t believe him.

“A…  Villain?”

“I didn’t see evidence of one, but they’re investigating back at school,” he clarified.

“Can you look at me please, Sweetie?” the glasses nurse asked.  Hesitantly, he did.  She removed her glasses, and as Izuku looked into her eyes, and the colorless irises shifted around one another.  She held the sides of his face gently to hold him still.  “Try not to blink, okay?”  He didn’t realize he had been.

“S-sorry,” he mumbled, the first thing he said since getting there.  He felt like he was watching them examine him in third person.  The room went silent.  A few more seconds went by before she leaned back and put her glasses back on.

“No surface-level damage,” she declared.  The other nurse sighed.

“Back to before, did he sound coherent when he first came-to?”

“Yes.  Complete sentences and no weird word order,” Aizawa responded.  Then to the glasses nurse, “You’re sure there’s no damage?”

“Nothing I can detect.”

“What can you detect?”  To anyone who wasn’t used to Aizawa, who this nurse clearly wasn’t, he sounded doubtful. 

“My quirk detects physical abnormalities in the cranial nervous system, so pretty much all of the most common forms of brain damage and tumors,” she defended.  Izuku cringed at the last part.  “Like the concussion your school’s doctor mentioned over the phone.  That’s gone.”  She smiled.

“Okay,” the first nurse stepped between them.  “Let me tell you, my quirk is sensing broken bones, so your shoulder is all better too.  Any stitches?”  He pointed to Izuku with a reassuring smile.  He nodded.  “Then we’ll get those out, and if you’re feeling up to it, you can go take a shower while we get your room set up.  How’s that?” he asked Aizawa more than him.  But they both nodded.

The nurses left, assuring someone else would come by about the stitches.  Aizawa sighed once the door shut.

“There are some goddamn specific quirks in this world,” he grumbled.  He pushed off the wall and knelt in front of a still-shaking Izuku.  “How are you feeling?”

“I, I don’t know,” he said under his breath.  Overwhelmed was the only word that came to his wandering mind. 

“Are you light-headed?  Any dizziness?”  He shook his head.

“They already asked me that.”

“I know that.  Has anything changed?”

“No.”  I don’t feel any better.  And you still don’t believe me.  “Are they really checking security back at school?”

“Of course, why would I lie about that?”

“…  You said there wasn’t a villain,” he accused.

Aizawa rubbed his face.  “I didn’t see any evidence of one, no.  I also didn’t see you show any of the symptoms of the kind of damage seizures can do.  Yet we’re here.  Why is that?”

“Just, just to be safe?” he ventured.  The hero nodded.

He had the kind of stitches that his body would absorb on its own; they didn’t need to come out.  There wasn’t as much relief as Izuku thought there would be when the brace came off.  Nor when he finally got to shower.  The hospital showers were too open and echo-y for him to relax.  But they let him take as long as he needed.  So, he took a long time.  He traded his sweat-soaked pajamas for a hospital gown, an even trade in terms of comfort.  Aizawa’s presence made up for that somewhat.  Izuku knew he could trust him, both in general and as someone who could hold his own should the villain come back.  Speaking of which…

“Would it be okay to please close the blinds?” was the first thing he asked after they entered his room on the fifth floor.  Since he was still a minor, they put him in the pediatric wing.  The walls were a soft blue, with grass, flowers, and butterflies painted near the floor.  Izuku didn’t really care, instead he climbed into the bed mechanically.  He knew the drill.

“Sure, kid,” Aizawa answered flatly.  He got up casually to fulfill the request.

Izuku watched the buildings outside the window disappear behind the blinds with tense attention.  In the last second before they closed completely, a black mass blinked into existence on a roof across the street.  He inhaled sharply.

“It’s there!  Look outside, the villain’s there!” he gasped.

Aizawa pinched open one segment of blinds to look out, and sighed.

“There’s nothing there.  You’re safe,” he said.  He looked defeated.  “Why don’t you come here and look?”  Izuku shook his head. 

“I can’t,” he choked.

“Why not?”

“It’ll see me!”

“Wha-“ 

“That’s why the attacks only ever happened outside.  It could see me!  If I look out it’ll know where I am and come back!” he rambled.  His teacher returned to the chair by the hospital bed and squeezed his shoulder. 

“There’s nothing out there.  It’s going to be alright,” he tried to assure. 

Izuku started shaking again; he hadn’t realized before then that he ever stopped.

There was a knock at the door, and he froze.

“Eraserhead?  Recovery Girl is here,” someone called from outside. 

He sighed again.  “Kid, I need to go outside and discuss some things.  Can you hold it together by yourself for a bit?”

“N-…  Okay,” he responded, trying to swallow his fear.  The nurse said he was healed, he could hold of the villain if it came in.  Maybe.

“Nothing is going to hurt you,” he said, picking up on his train of thought.  He got up towards the door.  “If you want, I can turn off the light, so you can try to get some shuteye.”

“…  Okay.”  And then he was alone.

The room couldn’t get very dark; it was early morning and his window faced the rising sun.  Plastic blinds couldn’t stand up to that.  Izuku hated hospitals, he realized.  The sterile smell, the crappy bed, the screaming kids in the next room because he was in the pediatric wing.

Seriously, why couldn’t they have put me somewhere else?  I’m sixteen, that’s practically an adult, he complained internally. 

But more than anything else, he hated being alone.  All the other times he’d stayed at the hospital, someone else was with him.  In his vague memories of visits as a young child, Mom was always there.  Sometimes Dad too.  Iida and Todoroki were with him after the fight with Stain.  Most of his class greeted him after he woke up after the training camp, plus he called Mom after.  Then he realized he didn’t have his phone, and slumped a little more.

After a good few minutes of feeling sorry for himself, Izuku figured he’d try to get some rest.  He was still cold and anxious, but the usual dread was absent.  The flimsy blanket was better than nothing.  He counted the painted butterflies on the wall as he settled in. 

One, two, three, inhale.  Four, five, six, exhale.  His breathing started evening out.  Nineteen, twenty, twenty-one, inhale.  It’s fine.  I’m okay.  Twenty-two, twenty-three, twenty-four, exhale.  Maybe it was just a bad dream.  Twenty-five, twenty-six, twenty-seven, inhale.  His eyelids grew heavy.  Twenty-eight, twenty-nine, thirty, exhale.  I stayed up too late reading about Jakku.  I’m just not over it.  That’s all it is.  He drifted in and out, and lost count.

A bang shocked him awake.  The children next door stopped screaming.  Izuku felt eyes on him.  A shapeless shadow splayed across the far wall.  Noise like nails on glass came from behind.  Slowly, hesitantly, he turned around.  Though obstructed by the blinds, he made out the jagged, sun-lit silhouette four massive limbs stretched like an X just outside his window.  He jumped back out of bed, blood pounding.  Something tapped the glass.  One for All surged.  But pain stopped him in his tracks.

Then a knock at the door.  Izuku jolted up from the floor.  Wait, the floor?  What ha-

The door swung open.

“Young Midoriya are you…”  All Might paused, and his gaze softened.  “Oh, my boy, what happened?”

Izuku jumped up again.  All Might’s arms were around him in less than two seconds.

“I-I saw it!  It’s after me,” he muttered frustrated.  Cold fingers clung to an old shirt.

“I’m sorry, my boy.  My poor boy,” All Might soothed.  Gently, he tilted his head to the side.  “What were you doing on the ground?  Did you hit your head?” 

“N-no.”

He helped him back into bed before resuming the embrace.  He didn’t need a hug, he needed to find whatever was after him.  But he didn’t pull away.  Izuku rested his chin on his mentor’s shoulder while said mentor ran a hand through is hair.  He rocked him a little. 

“Shh, it’s alright.  I know it’s scary.”

“I-I saw it, I he-eard it.  It followed me, me here, it’s real,” he stammered.

“It’s alright, my boy.  I’m here.  Nothing’s going to hurt you while I’m here.”  All Might had this way of making empty gestures feel full.  Izuku knew there wasn’t much he could do against a real threat anymore, but that little five-year-old fanboy in him still believed his hero was still invincible.  It helped.

It took a while, but eventually, Izuku calmed down again.  The calm brought the clear-headedness to be ashamed on himself.  I’m pathetic.  Why am I crying like a toddler when there’s a villain out for me?  And yet, he still hadn’t pulled away from All Might.  He had to do that himself.

“Feel better?” he asked, looking his student in the eyes.  Izuku shrugged.  “What’s up?”

“…  This is the worst,” was all he could come up with.

“Won’t argue there…  I wish I could do more to help you,” he said quietly.  He guided Izuku to lean back down on the bed.

“Did they tell you what happened?” he asked anxiously.

All Might hesitated.  “Nezu told me you were in the hospital for a seizure.  He didn’t imply there was much more to it…  What happened?  You said something followed you?”

“A villain broke into my room and attacked me.  Well, not attacked attacked, but I think it’s what’s been causing the pain attacks.  It cornered and screamed at me, then I had a really bad attack,” he rambled, all too eager for someone to actually listen to him.  Before All Might could respond, he kept going.  “And I think it followed me here!  Not just to the hospital, but to U.A. from Jakku.  I think it’s the same one who killed those people.  It had huge claws and black feathers,” he said desperately.  “I just saw its shadow by my window and I had another attack I think but it was short and made me pass out and I woke up on the floor!” 

“Breathe, kid, breathe,” All Might implored.  Izuku took a few deep breathes, his mentor alongside him.  “Did you tell anyone else?” he whispered pleadingly.

“I told everyone!” he couldn’t help but yell exasperated.  “But no one believes me…  You believe me, right All Might?”  His teacher looked away slightly.  “You don’t believe me either!  Why?”

“Young Midoriya,” he began.  “This is the first I’m hearing of a villain.  If th-“

“I’m not lying!”

“I never said you were lying,” he said sternly.  “If you told everyone, but they didn’t tell me…  Young Midoriya, I know you’re frustrated and scared, but please understand.  I, I think…”  He mulled over his next words.  Izuku was shaking again.  All Might noticed, and pulled him back into his arms.  “I’m so sorry, my boy.”

It’s not real, I’m just sick, Izuku finally, partially, admitted to himself.  He didn’t melt into his embrace like before.  He sat up stiff as a board until All Might pulled away.

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” he asked.

“…  No.”  What does it matter if you won’t believe me anyway?  He wanted to be done with this.  All Might must have picked up on that, because he changed the subject.

“You know what?  Before I forget…”  He reached down into a bag Izuku hadn’t noticed before.  All Might produced a pillow he instantly recognized as his own, and it brought on a real smile.

“Thank you,” he said quietly, hugging the pillow closer.  Hospital pillows really were awful.  After tucking it behind himself, he turned around to All Might holding out something that made him pause.  Wrapped in plastic, in prime condition, was a Japanese edition paperback trade of ‘All Star Superman.’  Izuku gasped.

“Sorry it took me so long to find it.  Had to dig through some old storage,” All Might smiled.  Gingerly, Izuku took it from him.  “That copy’s older than I am.  It was part of the last printing before the company went out of business almost eighty years ago.  Hasn’t been in Japanese print since.”

“Wow…  Is it really okay for me to even hold it?” he breathed. 

“If it wasn’t, I wouldn’t have brought it,” All Might chuckled.  “It’s not some ancient fragile manuscript that’ll turn to dust if you breathe on in.  Go on, open it up.”

With great care, Izuku removed the plastic cover, and turned to a random page.  On a clear Kansas night, a young Clark Kent talks to his father about his future.  Izuku grinned ear to ear.  The colors and lines were so much crisper than the scans online he had been reading.  They didn’t show the stars.  Out of the corner of his eye, All Might looked on kindly.

“Thank you,” Izuku whispered to him.

“You’re welcome.  I meant to give it to you yesterday, but, well…”

“…  You were a little distracted?”

“You could say that,” he said, ruffling his student’s hair.  “Hey, on the bright side, if I gave it to you then, I might not have brought it now.  At least you’ll have something to read while you’re stuck in here.”

“So, they are keeping me here?  For how long?” he asked.  Gently, he closed the book and put it down to listen.

“I’m not sure,” he replied.  “Recovery Girl mentioned she wanted them to run some tests on you, and speaking from personal experience, that’s a day-killer.”  Izuku fell back into his pillow.  “I know it stinks, but if you want to get better, you have to let the experts figure out what’s wrong with you first.  Plus, I’ll be here the whole time.”

Izuku smiled a little, before looking down concerned at his hands.  He ran a thumb over his scars.  All Might gestured for him to speak up.

“…  What if…  Do you think it might have something to do with One for All?” he asked as quietly as he could.  All Might’s smile fell.

Someone knocked on the door.

“C-come in,” All Might called.

Aizawa and Recovery Girl entered.  Izuku opened his mouth to greet them, but something in their tight expressions held him back.

“Did you get any sleep?” Aizawa asked him.  It certainly didn’t feel like it.  Izuku wasn’t even sure how long his teacher was gone.

“Not much, I think,” All Might supplied for him.  “I think he had another bad dream.  He was on the floor when I came in.”

Izuku cringed at that.  Though, he supposed this was a setting where he should be honest, no matter how embarrassing it was.  Still, hearing All Might call his encounter a ‘bad dream’ stung.  More so that he was probably right.

“Another seizure?” Recovery Girl questioned.

“I’m not sure…”  All Might turned towards him, to which he shrugged. 

“I, I think I had another attack.  I thought I saw the villain again.  Outside my window.”  All the adults looked to it, then back at him.  “I got out of bed and tried to active my quirk, then I woke up on the floor when All Might knocked.”  It seemed childish when he said it out loud; trying to square off against a dream monster.  They were on the fifth floor besides.  But with those claws it could-  No!

“Oh Dearie, did you hit your head?”  She got up to look him over.  Obediently, he leaned down.  “Hmm, don’t see any signs of bruising, but I might have Nurse Shin give you another once-over later.”  She returned to her seat at the opposite side of the room.

She must be the one from earlier, with the twisty eyes, he thought.  I hope she lets me ask about her quirk…  In the bag All Might brought him, one of his hero notebooks poked out of the top.  There was a change of clothes too.  That was thoughtful.

“But for now, we have a more pressing issue to deal with.”  Aizawa’s harsh tone cut through his musing.  His gaze was equally cold.  “I just got off the phone with your mother.”  Izuku’s heart shot up into his mouth.  “She, apparently, had no idea that any of this had been building up.”

“What?” All Might’s deep voice was a far cry from his earlier gentle soothing.  “You didn’t tell your mother about anything that’s been happening?”  Izuku swallowed.  “Midoriya answer me.”

“N-no…” he mumbled.

“You had plenty of opportunities.  She said you were fine on the phone yesterday,” Aizawa threw him under the bus.  Izuku shot him a look.

“Yesterday!?  Was that before or after we had a conversation about this exact thing?”

“I-it was-”

“Midoriya Izuku, you will look at me when I’m speaking to you,” he bellowed.  Through his shaking and building tears, he dragged his face towards his mentor.  Aizawa and Recovery Girl looked on from the side with crossed arms and cold looks.  He was on his own.

“Be-before…”

“Really?  And it didn’t occur to you to maybe go back and update her afterwards?  Or was your promise to be honest a lie too?” he berated.

“No!”

“Then when were you going to tell her?”

“I…  I don’t kn-ow…”

“You don’t know?” he repeated angrily.  “What if there had been a villain this morning?  What if the seizure had caused serious damage?  What would we have told her?  Does, does she even know about your fall?” 

Izuku bit his lip and shook his head.

Exasperated, All Might looked to the others.

“I sent her an email, too, but she might not have seen it,” Aizawa said.

“The notification for his medication may have gone to spam.  That’s been a problem with the system lately,” Recovery Girl added.

All Might snapped back to Izuku, who flinched.  “Well, she’s going to hear about it now.”  He snatched the Superman book from his lap, dug into the bag he brought, and shoved Izuku’s phone into his face.  “Call her.  Right now.”

“D-does it have to be n-“

“Call.  Your.  Mother.”

“O-okay,” he said weakly.  He took the phone and dialed her contact.  The eyes on him made even the one ring it took her to pick up last ages.

“Izuku,” Mom greeted flatly.  She was expecting him.

“H-hi, Mom.”

“Hello.  Are you calling to tell me what’s going on?”  Even tone.  He was in so much trouble.

“I…  Yeah.  How much did Aizawa-sensei tell you?” he asked apologetically.

“It doesn’t matter.  I want to hear it from you.  Beginning to end.  What’s going on?” she demanded.  So much trouble.

He took a deep breath and wiped his face.  “Okay, so, about a week after I came back from visiting you, I started getting this really, really intense anxiety.  Like from the seminar I told you about?”

“Mhmm,” she acknowledged.

“Yeah, well, that went on for a couple days, but I thought it was just nerves about Jakku,” he explained.  Around him, he teachers looked on in silence.  “But one day, while I was out jogging, I had…  I had this weird pain attack.  It was mostly in my back and…”  His first impulse was to lie about the severity of it.  But that wasn’t going to get him anywhere.  “…  And it hurt.  A lot.  I fall down it hurts so bad and I can’t do anything for a couple seconds.  And they’ve been happening a couple times a day since then,” he whimpered.  Mom sighed on the other end, conflicted.  His teachers’ expressions were not.

“And what else?”

“Two, two days ago, I had an attack during training, and I fell and hurt myself,” he said vaguely.  He elaborated before Aizawa could call him out.  “I fell about four stories,” -Mom gasped- “onto a crash pad.  I broke my arm and collar bone, and had whiplash and a concussion.”

“Are you okay?”  Her tough façade cracked a little. 

“I…”  No, I’m not.  “Those injuries are healed now,” Izuku decided to say.  “But this morning, I had…  I had a seizure.  They don’t think it caused any major damage, but I’m in the hospital now so they can run some tests on me,” he finished with a sniffle.

“…  Izuku, why didn’t you tell me any of this before?”  Her calm, angry-Mom voice was back, but she faltered.

“I, I didn’t want you to worry about me…” he confessed.  “You do that enough already.”

“Oh, don’t you pull that noble-sacrifice crap with me,” she snapped, and he winced away from the phone.  So did the others a little; she yelled loud enough for them to hear.  “If you want me not to worry, give up.  I’m your mother, nothing will make me stop worrying about you.  Ever.  You know this.  If this was about whether or not I go to my event, well, you won!  I’m here!  I’m baking garbage scones for snobby doctors nonstop all day, hundreds of miles away from my sick child, who, in addition to being sick, I now have to worry about if you’re being honest with the people taking care of you!  Izuku, I am very disappointed in you,” she ranted. 

You’re not the only one, he thought, surrounded by adults who would be telling him this if she didn’t.  Izuku hunched over and let tears run off his cheeks onto the blanket.  That he knew he deserved to be chewed out did nothing to ease the ache or embarrassment. 

And she wasn’t done.  “Izuku, I know how self-sacrificing you are.  Helping others is your natural state, and I admire that so much about you.  But listen to me: no one, no one, is hurt by you being honest about how you feel.  Whether that’s your health or your emotions.  No one suffers from being allowed to help you.

“I know you feel like a burden sometimes, but you’re not!”  She was crying, too.  “You’re an amazing, wonderful person, and I love you so, so much, and I know you’re going to do amazing things.  But you can’t do those things if you’re falling apart!  You can’t save people if you don’t let someone save you.  I know you hate it, but right now, you are a child.  You can’t handle these things on your own.  I care about you, your teachers care about you, and you need to let us help you.  Maybe, being honest right away wouldn’t have prevented things getting worse but we don’t know that!  Are you listening to me?”

“Y-yes,” Izuku squeaked.  At some point, his teachers turned their gazes to the floor.

“Good…”  She sighed that special Mom sigh that meant she was about to bring it home.  Izuku braced for impact.  “Izuku, I love you more than anything, and it kills me to know you’re hurting.  And I know you hate that.  But I need to know these things so that I can help you, or if I can’t, find someone who can.  And right now, your teachers and doctors are trying to help you.  Please, please, let them...  Okay?” 

“…  Okay.”

“Okay…  I love you, Baby.  So, so much,” she wept.

“I love you too, Mom.”  So did he.

“…  And with that,” Recovery Girl spoke up, “we need to discuss the procedures we’ll be doing today.”  She took the phone with Mom still on the line.  “This is sensitive information, meaning you boys will have to leave.”  She gestured to Aizawa and All Might.  The former was all too glad to get out.  The latter lingered.

“I’ll…  See you later, my boy,” he said shakily.

Izuku fell back on his pillow, and turned away.  While Recovery Girl spoke to his mother, he swore he heard something faintly tapping on his window.  The dread came back right after.

“Wow, I’m actually impressed.  I don’t think I’ve ever seen you play bad cop before,” Aizawa said with a smirk.

“Aizawa…  Please, please don’t compliment me on that,” Toshinori responded.  He pinched the corners of his eyes to try and squeeze away the tears.  “We should have left before all that.  Getting yelled at by a parent is hard enough, but with teachers watching?”  He shook his head.  The two made their way down the hall until they reached a small public seating area.  Toshinori found a chair, and immediately went back to trying to compose himself.  Only then did he realize his still had ‘All Star Superman’ with him.  He turned through the opening chapter, arriving at the page where Superman learns that radiation from the sun has started to kill him.  He doesn’t mention any pain.

“Why are you taking that so hard?” his colleague questioned.

“Unlike you, I don’t enjoy making children cry,” he said nonchalantly, flipping through more pages.

“Oh, that’s low,” he fake-chuckled, taking a seat of his own across from him.  “You think I don’t feel like shit about this, too?”

“I didn’t say that,” he defended. 

“It’s fine, I get it.  You really are turning into the problem child’s parent.”

Now that is a low blow.  “Aizawa, I don’t care if you joke about that rumor around me.  But make sure you don’t do it around Midoriya,” he warned.

“Why not?”  Not a tease, but a genuine question.

“It makes him uncomfortable.”

“Yeah?  That’s a very dad thing to notice.”

“It’s not like it’s hard.  Kid gets quiet and looks away from whoever made the comment, basic stuff,” he argued.  Aizawa shrugged.  “Is this how you’re coping?  By making fun of me?”

“Yep,” he said monotone.  “…  Has Midoriya ever mentioned his father to you?  His name’s in the file but he’s never come up.”

“He hasn’t, and I don’t plan to pry,” Toshinori said matter-of-factly.  “You’re awfully talkative today.”

“Like you said, I’m coping.”  He took out a tiny juice pouch from his pocket and downed the whole thing in one go.

Toshinori, admittedly, didn’t know Aizawa very well.  He knew he was an accomplished hero respected in the underground circuit.  He knew that he stared in Gen Ed at U.A. before transferring into the Hero course after a stand-out performance in the Sports Festival, where he also befriended Yamada and Kayama.  And that he had been a teacher nearly seven years. 

“Has…  Has anything like this ever happened before?  While you were a teacher?” Toshinori inquired.

“…  What about this?”

“Has, a student ever been injured or ill, and progressively get worse, seemingly without cause?” he elaborated. 

Aizawa thought for a moment as he stared at the ceiling. 

“Not like this,” he stated.  He closed his eyes tightly as he went on.  “Most kids I thought were going to be a problem got the boot right away, so they never got the chance to get injured.  Those that did, in my classes at least, either bounced back or dropped out of their own choice.  If it was bad enough, the school or their parents pulled them before I could make the decision.  Same with prolonged illness…  It’s never been this ambiguous as to what’s wrong.”

“…  You’re not…  You’re not thinking of kick-”

“No, not yet,” he interrupted.  His outburst implied he didn’t want to go down this line of thinking either.  Toshinori’s next train of thought was even less pleasant, but Aizawa beat him to the punch.  “And I know what you’re going to say, and yes.  A student from my class has died.  Just one.”

“What happened?” he breathed.

“A girl from my second year as a teacher.  Brain tumor,” he said quickly.  Toshinori leaned in, elbows on his knees.  “It didn’t seem to affect her abilities and according to her parents she was responding well to treatment.  So, when she begged me to let her keep training, I didn’t think much of it.  But then, one weekend…”  He swallowed.  “Her parents told me she said she had a headache, and went to take a nap.  She didn’t wake up.”

Toshinori’s heart clenched.  He lost so many people over the years to villains and disasters, he’d almost forgotten how many mundane things could end a life.  They were in a hospital; they were probably surrounded on all sides by people going through just that.  And to a child no less.  A child Young Midoriya’s age…

“Thank you, for sharing this with me, Aizawa.  You didn’t have to” he said softly.

“Sometimes, things just happen,” he concluded, his uninterested tone cracked ever so slightly.  The man was a good twenty years younger than Toshinori; he’d been a hero since before Aizawa was born.  And yet, in that moment, he sounded so much wiser.  World-wearier.  He patted his knees and stood up.  “Well, if you’ve got this covered, I’m going to head out.”

“Where are you going?”

“I have nineteen other children to make cry,” Aizawa declared with one of his broken smiles. 

Toshinori smiled back a little as he waved the other man goodbye.  He sent Recovery Girl a quick text asking if it was alright for him to return to Midoriya.

“I’m still talking with his mother.  I’ll let you know when we’re done,” she texted back.

He sighed.  He wanted so much to go back.  To give him back the book, to apologize for yelling, to tell him everything would be okay.  To just do something.  He looked around the empty chairs.  Recovery Girl would likely be a while.  Toshinori considered the book in his lap.  Mindlessly, he browsed the illustration for a few minutes. 

I really should reread this some time, he thought idly.  Last time I got all the way through was when I was in the hospital after I fought All for One the first time.  He shuddered.  Maybe some other time…  Right now, I might as well use this time to get something done.

That something was making a call of his own.

“Whadaya what?” Gran Torino barked from the other line.

“Good morning, Gran.  It’s me,” Toshinori placated.

“Yeah, I know that, numbskull.  I have caller ID.”

“Heh, yeah…”

A sigh.  “What did the brat do this time?”

“Nothing!  It’s not his fault,” he defended instinctively.

“Oh really?  So you’re taking responsibility for once, eh?” he asked mockingly.

“No, well, yes…  I don’t know…” he stammered.

“Well speak up.  What’s wrong?”

“I…  Midoriya…” he sighed this time.  “I’m in the hospital.  Young Midoriya is, is sick.”

“Sick?  What kind of sick?”  At least he sounded genuine that time.

“We’re not sure.  He’s here to be tested,” Toshinori explained somberly. 

“And you’re calling because you think it has something to do with One for All.  That right?”

Toshinori’s silence was all the answer he needed.  A couple passing nurses gave him sympathetic smiles.  This was standard fair here. 

“Excuse me!” he called to them.  “Is, is there somewhere private I can talk on the phone?”

“Of course, Sir.  Right this way,” one of them said, and led him to a side room.  The one bonus of hospitals was that a sad man on the phone asking for somewhere private wouldn’t be suspicious.  He thanked her, and went back to Gran.

“What makes you think it’s the quirk?” he asked.

“Nothing specific,” he replied.  “But so far, no one has found anything that could be causing his symptoms.”

“Which are?”

“He’s had debilitating anxiety almost nonstop for a few weeks now.  A week ago, he started having random spasms of pain throughout the day.  Bad enough to put him on the ground.  He was almost killed when he had one during a training exercise,” he rambled.  Tears threatened to return.  “And he had a seizure this morning.  A bad one from what I heard.”  Silence.  “Gran?”

“…  I’ve got nothing.  Sorry,” he grumbled.

Toshinori inhaled and rubbed his face.  “You’re sure the quirk never did this to me or Nana?”

“Yes I’m sure!  Why would I lie to you?” his old mentor snapped.  “Sorry…  How’s the kid holding up?”

“Not, not great,” he sighed.  “He was hiding his condition for a while, I only found out about everything besides the anxiety yesterday.  He’s really upset.”  And I made it worse…

“And you’re blaming yourself.  Damn, you two really are alike,” he chastised.  “You got mad at him, didn’t you?”

“Huh?  How di-”

“Experience, dumbass.  Do you have any idea how many hours I lost to listening to Nana waffle back and forth about whether she was too harsh with you?”  That gave him pause.

“Nana was never that harsh with me,” he argued.

“Compared to me, she wasn’t,” the old man countered.  “But she always worried about it, just like you are now.  So I’m gonna tell you the same thing I told her: sometimes, you gotta be harsh.  When lives are on the line, you can’t afford screw-ups.  And when someone screws up, they need to know just how bad.”

“Yes, but-“

“No buts.  Your boy screwed up, you let him know, and hopefully, he learned from it,” Gran stated.  Toshinori could hear him pacing.

“I hate it, though,” he whined.  Midoriya had enough crap in his life, he didn’t need one more person to be mean to him.

“So don’t do it all the time then!  Save the yelling for the bad stuff, and go back to hugs and sing-a-longs or however you train him,” he grumbled.  Toshinori didn’t have a response right away.  “Yeesh, why is this so hard for you to figure out?  One outburst isn’t going to ruin your relationship.  I yelled at you every day I’ve known you, and you still called me.”

“Ours is a relationship of convenience.”

“Sure it is, squirt.”  The smile came through the line.  It was contagious.  “You’re in a hospital ain’tcha?  Why don’t you go do that hero thing and visit some sick kids or something?  Might put you in a better mood before you go back to your kid.”

“These kids want to see Superman, not the Scarecrow,” he returned jokingly.

Gran laughed again.  “Say hi to the brat for me.”  Then he hung up.

Toshinori huffed.  Damn old man.  I don’t want to talk to kids, I want to talk to my kid…

Speaking of Superman, he flipped to the pages of the book, where the hero visited kids in the hospital.  In real life, even before superheroes became reality, people still dressed up in costumes to visit sick children.  Of all the traditions to last to the modern age, that was certainly one of the better ones.  What never happened was a few pages later, when Superman returned with a small army of shrunken Kryptonians to eliminate the children’s cancer.

That part always hurt a little.  No matter how much he achieved as All Might, there were always somethings he still couldn’t do.  For every hundred he saved, another thousand perished.  The better part of Toshinori knew it was too much to ask of himself, or anyone really.  But that never stopped his longing to be able to do good on the grand scale of the heroes of fiction.

Without thinking, he turned back to one of the story’s most famous pages: Superman talks a crying teenager away from the edge of a roof.  A single page; just five panels.  Only two of them had text.  A tiny, quiet slice of a grand, cosmic tale.  An invincible demigod fighting a time limit stops to comfort a child.  That’s when the weight of the past few days finally sunk in, and Toshinori allowed himself a few moments to cry.

Ochako floated clumps of mud out of the way as fast as she could.  The rain was light, but enough to undo her work almost as fast as she could do it.  Todoroki’s ice kept some of the receding soil back.  If Kirishima hadn’t been using his hardened arms like shovels, they wouldn’t have made any progress at all.  Mud drenched all three of them.

“We’re almost there, guys!  Keep going!” Jirou encouraged from the top of the hole.

“How many again?” Kirishima yelled up. 

“Um, two, I think,” she replied.  They barely heard her.  The rain was definitely getting harder.

Ochako grabbed another armful of mud, and slung it up to Dark Shadow with her quirk.  He caught it, then disappeared over the ridge to dump it.

“Release!” Tokoyami signaled to her.

“Release,” she repeated, deactivating her quirk.  Then they did it over again.

The rain pounded.  Her helmet protected her face from most of it, but it still clouded her visor and the sound still rang in her ears.  She could only just hear her teammates beside her.  There was water in her boots.  She was so cold.

A metallic clang.  Kirishima hit something with his fist.

“Car!” he exclaimed. 

Ochako tried not to grimace.  The rain and vehicles were the two new factors added for the day’s earthquake relief training.  As if just one didn’t make it hard enough.  The upside of cars was they had air pockets, so victims inside were more likely to be marked alive for longer.  Downside was actually getting them out that way.

“Car!” she shouted impatiently at the others.  It was late enough in the simulation that they had a system.

Todoroki made a bowl of ice around the walls of the hole.  Ochako and Kirishima stepped towards the middle out of the way.  Dark Shadow leaned down and grabbed an armful of the remaining mud away.  Rain met the roof of the car.  Hard rain.  The clock started ticking.

Kirishima knelt down, and pierced an unbreakable finger through the roof.  Like a can opener, he pulled it back through the metal.  The rest looked on anxiously.  Tokoyami looked especially antsy; they learned the hard way earlier that Dark Shadow lacked the necessary precision for this step.  He didn’t get to jump in until Kirishima had three sides carved.  The shadow’s claws tucked under the cut section, then peeled it back.  Three white heads appeared, the rest of them buried in dirt.  Water poured into the interior.

“Three counted,” Ochako called to Jirou.

“Two beats,” she replied.  The mannequins had artificial hearts, basically noise makers in their chests to tell if they were alive or dead.

Ochako resumed the task of floating mud away.  This time, she let it go straight up, allowing her teammates to catch and move it.  She slipped a little and cut her arm on the twisted metal of the roof.  She winced, but kept going.

“You want the arch?” Kirishima asked once he noticed the blood trickling into the mud. 

“Not yet,” she said.  After a few more rounds of floating, any part of her costume’s arm that wasn’t already caked with mud turned red.  Water flowed all the while.  She wasn’t satisfied until all three mannequins’ torsos were completely exposed.  “Arch!” she finally yelled.

Todoroki jumped into the hole, and covered the top with ice.  Ochako took a moment to breathe in the calm silence after the rain stopped.  But only a moment.  All three leaned in to check a mannequin’s “pulse” by putting a hand over their chests.

“Alive,” the boys said at once.  She frowned.

“Start with the one in the middle,” she said.  For whatever reason, they defected to her.

Kirishima stepped into the car onto the dirt.  His boots sunk a little.  Waiting as long as they did to cut off the rain was a gamble.  Mud was harder to dig into, but it was looser than dry dirt.  He passed her some mud which she packed against the ice bowl.  Todoroki moved some around too, but mostly kept an eye on the structure surrounding them.  Rain hit the outside like a thousand tapping fingers.  A single freezing drop melted from the ceiling onto Ochako’s hand.

“Okay, I think this dude’s ready to go up,” Kirishima said, having dung out a cone around the middle mannequin. 

“Okay,” Ochako acknowledged.  She tapped the fake civ with her quirk, then she and Todoroki grabbed an arm each. 

“One, two, three, up,” they all chanted.  Kirishima tried to dig it out further while they lifted.  It took a few seconds, but they finally got it loose.  Ochako stumbled back with the released tension, but steadied herself.  She took the mannequin from Todoroki, and he melted through part of the ice wall near the ceiling.

The rush of rain came back in an instant.  But so did Dark Shadow.  Ochako passed the civ into its waiting claws, releasing her quirk after it was out of the ice dome.  Kirishima already had the other live one halfway out.  The hole left by the first let him get it out of the mud from the side.  He guided it up into her arms, and she passed it along to Tokoyami.  That just left the body.

“Earphone Jack!  Any nearby living?” she yelled out.

“…  Not that I hear.  You’re good for the body,” she responded after a moment. 

“Red Riot, you got out and help the other dig teams.  I’m good here,” Ochako directed him.  They had to prioritize the living over the dead.  One body didn’t need three people to move it.

“You too, Todo- Shoto.”  His name being his hero name was still weird.

“Not happening,” he argued.  “This is still an active disaster zone.  Thirteen said yesterday that we should never work alone in something like this.”

“Fine,” she relented.  She was already back in the hole working out the third mannequin.  “Just keep the ice from falling on me.  I’ve got this.”

The last mannequin was in the back seat of the car, head and shoulder crushed against the side.  The familiar concaved shoulder made her wince; she hated  knowing what that injury looked like on a real person.  On her friend.  Ochako got her foot down in the hole, and pushed the mud into the space left by the other two.  At least with it being dead they didn’t have to worry as much about being gentle.  She maneuvered the freed body to the opening in the roof, and floated it up to Todoroki.  He set it aside, then helped her back up.  Relief at their success was temporary.

She really felt the strain of her quirk as they carried the body to the safe zone.  Her head felt light and the edge of her vision was hazy.  She couldn’t make out any of her costume’s colors there was so much mud.  Time stopped meaning anything hours ago.  The rain was relentless. 

Until it wasn’t.  As soon as she and Todoroki crossed into the safe zone, it stopped.  They looked to each other confused.  The buzzer sounded.  Ochako flinched.

“Attention everyone!  All fifty civilians have been accounted for.  This concludes our simulation,” Thirteen announced over the intercom.  Cheers rang out in the distance.  Ochako barely heard them over her own sigh of relief.  “Please go get cleaned up in the showers, then meet back up on the main entrance stairs for evaluations.  Feel free to change into casual clothes if you brought them.  Any injuries should be brought to mine or Aizawa-sensei’s attention immediately.”

The mud on her costume was caked and dried by the time Ochako reached the showers.  She hadn’t realized how heavy it was until she started peeling it off.  Her hair and face were mostly untouched thanks to her helmet, unlike her classmates.  The girls spent a good while helping one another pick grime out of one another’s hair.  Since they got back before most of the guys, they assumed they had the same problem.

“That was a wonderful second outing everyone!” Thirteen cheered once everyone was back on the stairs.  Aizawa stood unreadable beside them.

Ochako cringed a little.  Oh yeah.  This was only day two…

A woman in a blue and white abstract hero costume walked up next to their teachers.

“And let’s give a warm thank you to Tempest for supplying the rain for today!”

“Thank you, Tempest,” the class choired about as warmly as they were during the simulation.  The hero didn’t seem to notice, blowing the group a kiss.

Ochako couldn’t help but wonder how Deku would react.  Probably with the same enthusiasm he did when meeting any new hero, soaked or not.  It wasn’t clear whether Tempest would come back for the rest of the week’s training, nor if Deku would be back on the field in that time.  

“Excuse me, Tempest ma’am,” she called out to the hero after evaluations.

“Hmm, what’s up?” she asked.  Her bluish eyes looked like shimmering water.

“I was wondering, if it’s alright with you, could I please get your autograph?”

“Of course ki- woah, wait a sec!”  Tempest lightly grabbed Ochako’s arm.  A long gash crossed halfway up from her elbow. 

“Oh, heh, forgot about that…” she said.  Tempest led her to Aizawa, and he led her to the med kits.  The rain hero left behind a little blue notecard, before she disappeared up the stairs.

“Fan of hers?” Aizawa questioned as he wiped off her arm with disinfectant.

“No, not really,” Ochako admitted.  Her teacher gently wrapped her arm in gauss.  “But Deku probably is.”  He didn’t look at her.  “Have you heard anything about how he’s doing?”

“…  No.  Sorry, kid,” he said.

“But you were there until noon, right?  How was he before you left?” she prompted.

“He was alive and awake,” he dismissed, then stood up.  “Make sure you see Recovery Girl in the morning.”

Ochako sighed, then took Tempest’s autograph and followed. 

It was dark out when they left the USJ.  The simulation lasted five hours.  Half the class fell asleep on the bus back to the main campus.  Midoriya hadn’t texted back in any of that time.  She knew he had his phone; All Might came for it a little after Aizawa took him away.

The ghost of the event haunted the common room.  She wondered if anyone else felt it when they got back.  The others were talking at least.  They erupted into chaos after Aizawa ran by, then fell into silence when the three who witnesses what happened explained.

A seizure.  She turned the words over in her mind as she retrieved her mug from the cabinet.  All the research she did throughout the day indicated that most seizures weren’t harmful long-term.  But there was still that chance…

Speaking of the three witnesses, Aoyama, Tokoyami, and Mineta all crowded around the open fridge.

“What are you guys doing?” she asked.

“Inventory,” Mineta declared.

“Aw, did someone steal the food again?” she whined.  She was way too tired to make her own food that night.  The plan was to grab her leftovers and go.

“No, the contents seem unchanged from this morning,” Tokoyami said.  He turned around and offered the plastic with her name on it.  Relived, she took it with a brief thanks.

“The issue is whether we have the ingredients for katsudon,” Aoyama chirped disappointedly. 

“Katsudon?”

“For Midoriya, when he comes back tonight,” he replied.

“If he returns,” Tokoyami clarified quietly.

“Hospital food sucks, so we’re gonna make this to cheer him up!” Mineta explained with a raised fist.

“We don’t have any pork though…”

“Then we’ll use chicken or something, not a big deal,” the short boy remarked.

“Would you like to help?” Aoyama offered.

Ochako paused to think, but didn’t have to for long.

“Everyone listen up!” Aizawa shouted.  All eyes turned to him.  “All Might is on his way back with Midoriya.”  Excited murmurs spread through the class.  Ochako couldn’t keep down a wide smile.  “But, I don’t want you all crowding him.  He’s had a long day and is probably tired.”

Tsuyu raised her hand.  “Is he okay?  Did they find out why he was sick?”

“I don’t know,” he said.  Ochako’s smile dulled.  “They’re not keeping him overnight, which was still on the table last time I spoke with the hospital.”

“So…  He’s better?” Kaminari questioned.

“He’s not actively dying.”  That wasn’t reassuring.  “Whatever it is, he can tell you himself.  Just don’t corner him for answers.”  Their teacher left, probably to meet the others at the gate.

Ochako turned back to the three boys.  Against the will of her exhausted body, she said:

“Let’s do it!”

They finished making food around the same time Jirou reported hearing footsteps coming up towards the dorm.  They didn’t have enough to make a portion for everyone, but it was really for Midoriya.  Most who didn’t were already at the tables with their own food.  Ochako volunteered herself to sit out with her own leftovers.  She kept glancing excitedly towards the door while she helped set up bowls.  Todoroki held Midoriya’s in his hand, keeping it warm, and seemed to be doing the same thing.  Everyone missed their friend.  They’d finally get him back, and he’d get a nice warm meal after a long day of who knows what.

At the last minute, Aoyama passed around a glittery (so that’s where he disappeared to) card for everyone to sign.  Ochako was one of the last to get it.  

“I missed you today!  I hope you’re feeling better!” she wrote, and tucked Tempest’s sighed card into it.

The door handle jiggled.  Everyone went quiet, excited smiles all around.  The door opened; Ochako held her breath.  Fluffy green curls appeared around the corner.

“Welcome ba-”

Midoriya stomped past them, head down.  He vanished up the stairs before anyone could react.  All Might walked in a few moments later.

“What’s wrong with him?” Mineta asked.

“…  Nothing,” the hero breathed.  His bangs drooped in front of his face.

“What, what do you mean ‘nothing?’  Midoriya’s never straight-up ignored us before,” Sero commented cautiously.

“Yeah, that was weird.”

“Doesn’t seem like him.”

“What happened?” Ochako ventured.

All Might took a long, deep breath.  “The doctors couldn’t find anything wrong with him,” he explained, voice heavy.  “Nothing’s changed.”

Ochako bit her lip.  Concerned conversation broke out around her.

“What’s gonna happen now?”

“Is he still banned from practice?”

“Does this mean he’s getting worse?”

She put down the bowl she was filling, and all but ran to the stairs.

“Young Uraraka, please wait,” All Might called weakly.  He was spent too. 

Her heart lept to her mouth.  She started running once she rounded the first flight. 

“Deku?” she yelled up.  A strangled cough pricked her ears.  Something’s wrong. 

He didn’t make it all the way up.  He lay crumpled, his head against the last step, writhing in pain.  His bloodshot eyes were wide open.  He wheezed like he was choking.

“Deku?!  Deku, what’s wrong?  What’s happening,” she begged at his side.  Another attack, some part of her supplied.  But she didn’t know what to do.  Ochako wanted to lift him onto even floor with her quirk, but didn’t want to risk hurting him more.  So she just put a hand between his head and the step.  The other went to hold his shoulder.  “Deku, it’s okay,” she whispered through forming tears.

“Oh, no,” All Might said behind her.  He went to Deku’s other side, similarly attempting to ground him. 

“What do I do, All Might?” she whimpered.

He shook his head with bitter acceptance.  “Not much else we can do…”

“Do-t m-” Deku mumbled.

“Huh?”

“Do-t t-ch me,” he growled.  All Might removed his hands immediately, but he had to shake Ochako away.  Slowly and breathing hard, he sat up.  He looked blank for a few moments, when then grew into fear.

“Deku?” she tried again.

“…  Never inside.”

“What was that, my boy?”

“Never happens inside,” he said, shaking.  “Attacks never happen inside.  Never before.”  He shook his head wildly.  “Why inside?  What’s happening?  …  It knows where I am.”  All Might tried to lay a hand on his shoulder, but he turned and smacked it away.  All three froze.  Deku looked pale as a ghost.

“What, what knows where you are?” Ochako asked.

He turned back towards her so fast she flinched.  There was a slight shiver to his body.  His eyes were so red they looked like he could cry blood. 

“M’sorry.”  Deku jolted up and ran to his room, slamming the door behind him.

Ochako looked back to All Might slowly.  The mirrored on another’s horrified expressions.  But his was also so much more tired, like he knew.  He held her as she cried.  A single teardrop that wasn’t hers fell onto her hand.

Chapter Text

Just because it was a familiar dream didn’t mean Katsuki was used to it.  Even worse was that despite knowing it was a dream, he couldn’t force himself to wake up.  He’d just have to ride it out.

It started the same as always, with the sludge villain wrapped around his body both inside and out.  Ooze churned in his mouth, forcing open his jaws whenever it spoke.  But he could never hear what the villain said; liquid pulsed in his ears too.  The action took place in the same alley where it had happened in real life, which hadn’t happened in a while.  Sometimes, the villain showed up to interrupt him reliving different bullshit, from the USJ to his rematch with the nerd.  Speaking of which, being back in the alley meant that he’d probably have to wait for the loser to come rescue him for the dream to end.  Great.

It felt like a long time.  Katsuki’s dream-self thrashed and screamed through the sludge without his control.  The liquid’s grip grew tighter.  Every organ in his chest burned.  It’s just a dream.  A stupid, goddamn dream.  Why is it so hard to breath?  It was at that moment he realized that the original incident hadn’t taken this long. 

Where’s All Might?  In the crowd.  Watching.  All Might was skeletal, all the way in the back and clutching the spot Katsuki now knew was injured.  He said that he’d used up all his time that day, but the nerd inspired him to push beyond to save them both.  So, he needed the nerd.  He swore he could feel liquid that didn’t belong moving through his veins.  Where’s that damn nerd?

Deku stood at the other end of the crowd.  His hands covered his mouth as he cried.  They made eye contact.  Yeah, dumbass, I see you.  Now get over here and be a goddamn inspiration so I can get on with this.  But he didn’t.  He stood there with tears running down his face.  Something in Katsuki’s chest popped.  Pain bled into new parts of his chest with the sludge.  Come on, you worthless piece of shit!  Move!  Nothing changed in the crowd.  His own tears mixed with ooze.  Said ooze traveled up his nostrils into his head.  Green overtook his vision.

Come on!  Do something!  Where’s that shitty nerd who always gets up in everyone’s business, eh?  Where’s that now?  Why does All Might need you to get him to save me?  Huh?  Why does he need you?  Why is this the only thing you’re good for? 

He could just barely make out Deku covering his eyes before the sludge took over.

What the fuck are you doing?  Get over here!  You piece of shit!  You worthless piece of shit, Deku!

Everything ached.  His struggles weakened to little more that twitches. 

Why couldn’t I get out of this myself?  Why can’t I get out of this now?  This is a dream, ain’t it?  It’s a dream!  It has to be!  Then why do I still need help?  Why won’t   anyone help   me?  Why  w   help   me      he lp    m        h   e     l        h          e

His mistook the sweat drenching his body for slime, and thrashed to fight it off.  That fight against himself was followed quickly by another one: keeping his stomach from emptying itself before he made it to the bathroom.  He barely won.  Katsuki half expected to see blood in the bile, considering how much the sludge villain had been twisting his insides.  But that was fake.  He was fine…  He was fine, wasn’t he?  That had been, by far, the most intense nightmare he’d had in a while.  And he had a history of them.  So much so that he had taken up training himself to lucid dream.  Usually, he could break out of the sludge and beat the villain into another state of matter, with or without All Might’s help.  But why not this time?

He leaned back against the cold bathroom wall for a bit, and just breathed.  It didn’t matter, he supposed, the finer point of dream physics.  Dream logic was bullshit anyway.  He’d just do better next time.  Speaking of time, he had no idea what time it was.  That didn’t really matter either.  Morning classes were canceled for a teacher meeting, so he could sleep in if he wanted.  Still, if he was going to take advantage of the free time, he wanted to use it to get something useful done.

With a final sigh, he slowly got to his feet.  He figured he’d wash his face and brush his teeth to get the taste of bile out of his mouth.  But he stepped on something.  When he paused to look down, he was shocked wide awake. 

A black feather.  It was smaller than his palm and it left a dirty mark on his foot.  The stem curved at an unnatural angle and hairs broke away when he touched it.  It sure as hell wasn’t one of the emo bird bastard’s. 

Katsuki’s mind flashed back to the reports of the Jakku murders.  And then to Deku’s ramblings after the seizure.  Something about a monster with extra, feathered arms tipped with spikes.  But Aizawa and the other teachers combed through every piece of security on campus, from cameras to quirk sensors, and found nothing.  Of course, he believed them over Deku’s traumatized ass.  His ‘monster’ was a hallucination.  Katsuki thought to himself, if it’d been me, I’d have blown the bitch bald, real or not.  Like tonight?  He shuddered.  Where the hell is the Deku who saved my ass a year ago?

He looked back to the grimy little feather in his hand.  Deku was usually one of the first people awake, so he would have been the first to see it.  Is this some sicko’s idea of a prank?  This is the sort of amateur, tasteless shit I would have…

Katsuki slammed his palms together and fried the feather into ash.  Then he dumped the remains into the toilet, before washing his hands of the physical and metaphorical mess.

This is my one favor, nerd.  Don’t get used to it.

Izuku was in hell.  Dread was omnipresent.  Day and night, it strangled his senses.  The doctors thought the anxiety medication might have contributed to his seizure, so they took him off it.  Not that it would have done much anyway.  He couldn’t sleep, he barely ate, and most words died in his throat.  Relief was rare; maybe a few minutes each day.  But he would gladly give those minutes up if only the attacks would stop.  It didn’t matter where he was or what he was going anymore.  Attacks struck while he sat in class to when he laid in bed at night, and everything in between.  He started to prefer the washcloth to the shower; what if he fell and hit his head?  All random too.  For the first three days, Izuku tried to keep track of them in an effort to find a pattern, but found nothing. 

His classmates and teachers learned by then to leave him be.  They swarmed him the first day.  They pointlessly asked if he was okay and if there was anything they could do to help.  No, to both.  When he had an attack in class, he would curl up with his head on the desk and ride it out.  What else could he do?  The teachers gave him free-reign to step outside if he needed to, but never did.

By the fourth day, they had some sort of system in place that Izuku wasn’t privy to.  He was never more than a few meters away from someone.  The other students followed behind wherever he went, what they thought was a respectable distance between them.  Izuku didn’t mind so much that they were keeping an eye on him, but that they did so without being straight forward.  All they would have had to do was say, 'hey, we’re gonna go with you to make sure you don’t get hurt,' and he would have been fine.

That was a lie.  Someone was always there to catch him when he fell, and it was agonizing.  Izuku didn’t want to deal with anyone.  No one believed his claim about an invading villain.  Sure, some had at first given the past few months.  But after thorough reviews of school security with nothing to show for it, their faith waned to nothing.  Sympathy turned to pity.  No matter how many times he tried to chase the shadow in the corner of his eye, he couldn’t convince them.  ‘Poor Midoriya.  Crime scene got to him so bad he’s hallucinating.’  Nobody said it out loud, but Izuku could see it in their eyes.

The teachers didn’t believe him either.  Everyone barred him from training, quirk or no quirk.  What if he had an attack while running laps?  Or lifting weights?  Or any activity that wasn’t sitting around waiting for the pain to come?  It was a minor miracle they even let him come to class at all.  Recover Girl had one foot in his corner at the hospital.  She insisted they run test after test, no matter how many came up normal.  All Might told him later that after a nurse implied that Izuku was making the whole thing up, she chewed him out for over an hour.  But on the other hand, she wanted him to remain in the hospital.  That, apparently, had been a whole other argument.  But her clout as a respected doctor and hero only went so far, and Izuku was discharged.  As a compromise, they opened a slot for a specialist to look at him later in the month.  At least Mom wouldn’t have to cancel her trip.

Whether or not he could participate, Izuku still had to change into his gym uniform for class.  On the fifth day, he had an attack in the locker room.  His half-dressed body froze, and he fell.  Iida caught him before he could hit his head on a bench.  Then he lightly set him on the ground to ride it out, someone’s unused uniform as a pillow.  Feeling came back slowly, like it always did.  The tile was cold against his bare back, but he felt the hair and dirt there.  The whole room was deathly silent apart from his panting.

“Are you o-“

“No!” Izuku spat.  They all know I’m not.  They don’t need to ask.  It doesn’t help.

Instead of one of the training facilities, Aizawa lead them to the auditorium.  Midnight, Thirteen, and Blood King were there, along with class 1-B.  A few people from the different classes mingled in the middle, but mostly kept to themselves.  Seats weren’t assigned, so Izuku sat well behind the others.  He rested his chin on his crossed arms.  It didn’t go unnoticed.

“What’s up with Midoriya?” he overheard a girl from 1-B whisper. 

“Ain’t he usually down in front?” another added.

“I heard he’s sick,” a third explained.

“With what?”

“I don’t know, but he was in the hospital the other day.”

“Really?”

“Hey, cut it out,” Hagakure snipped at them.  Even with gym clothes on they still didn’t see her coming.  She turned as if to look at him before she went back to her own seat.  Izuku wondered what sort of expression she had.

“Good afternoon, everyone!” Midnight announced.  Aizawa and Blood King went backstage.  “We’re going to be doing something a little different today.”  The acoustics of the auditorium made sure Izuku heard every speculative mumble.  “Heroism can sometimes be a thankless job, so receiving thanks and appreciation is a special treat.”

“You’ve all been working hard these past few weeks, and we are all very proud of your progress,” Thirteen added.

“So, since yesterday was the last day of earthquake relief training…”

“And tomorrow marks the first day of presentations for your comics project…”

“This afternoon, you’ll be going through,” they both said and stepped aside.  There was a large black circle on the stage between them.

Oh no…

Cheat-A jumped up from the spot and landed with her feet on either side of it with a box in her arms.

“Fan mail!” she cheered, lifting the box overhead.  The classes erupted.  Izuku sank into his chair.  The homeroom teachers returned with more boxes.  “Our agency has been collecting everything from Jakku for you guys.  We also have paper and writing stuff if you want to write back!  Have fun!”

Everyone got a box.  The teacher’s called names for people to come up and get theirs.  Each looked the same, but it was obvious which were heavier.  They didn’t call Izuku; after everyone else, Aizawa brought him his box.  He put it down with a heavy thud.

“How are you holding up today?” Aizawa asked after a brief pause.

Why do you even bother?  “Fine,” he answered, still looking down.  The space echoed with the joy and laughter of his peers.  They read letters out loud and jeered at sillier drawings.  Izuku wanted more than anything to join the fun, but the dread was too much.  His teacher sighed, but left him alone.

Izuku’s box was packed.  Letters, drawings, and little gifts were stuffed to the brim.  A letter from Racing Stripes and Cheat-A sat right at the top.

Hey there, Deku! 

We really appreciate all the good work you did in Jakku!  Your speech reached a whole lot of people!  Most of the kids are still serious about quirk safety, and a couple started taking classes for better control.  A couple middle schoolers are getting serious about training, too.  You might be seeing some familiar faces at U.A. next year!

Despite all that, we know you had a hard time out here, and we’re all very sorry.  We hope you can find it in your heart to forgive us, and maybe come and visit again sometime down the line.  We’d all love to have you!

We wish you the best,

Cheat-A, Racing Stripes, Hanten, and the people of Jakku

The letter came with a drawing from Hanten: a graffiti-styled depiction of Izuku’s hero mask.  He set it and the letter off to the side and started going through the others.

The letters were all over the place.  Most were from elementary and middle schoolers complimenting his seminar performance.  A couple were genuinely enthusiastic; kids explained how they were inspired to work harder towards their own hero careers.  Those often came with little drawings of him and what he assumed were the kids’ planned hero costumes.  But after several generic, uninterested responses, it became clear that this was a school assignment.  Every once in a while, there was a letter in childish handwriting with much more adult word choices, indicating the parents planned what to say for them.  Some adults wrote letters themselves; a lot of those were asking him to come back to tutor their child or work at the Jakku agency.  The rare high schooler letter gave contact information with a date request.  Izuku skimmed all of them passively.

Then came the letters talking about the murders, because why wouldn’t there be?  Those were split.  A handful blamed him for either attracting the killer with his school, or not doing enough to stop it.  But the majority were from well-meaning kids complimenting him by saying he could beat the villain easy or begging him to come back and save them.  Niji sent three of them.  They came with drawings too.  Crayon and colored pencil depicted him battling every conceivable form the black-feathers villain could take.  Giant birds, dinosaurs, magic creatures, wizards summoning crows, black knights with feathered capes, evil queens with feather boas, and all manner of winged people and monsters fought a little green rabbit.  Well, almost every form; none of them had spikes.

Izuku was near tears by the time he was halfway through the stack.  He got that they were just kids and didn’t know any better, but it still hurt to have so many people counting on him when he couldn’t even take a bath for fear of drowning.  Out of the corner of his eye, Cheat-A walked up the stairs towards him.  She looked worried.  Izuku tried to hide his face behind his box.  But Midnight cut her off.  He heard her whisper that he wasn’t feeling well and to leave him alone.  It split him between gratitude and anger.  He didn’t need his teachers running interference.  He could handle it.

His eyes followed the two women’s descent, and landed on Sero.  He and Hagakure, he realized, looked up at him concerned.  They shot one another a quick look, before holding up some of their own fan mail with sad smiles.  Sero’s depicted him lassoing a winged man with his tape.  Hagakure’s showed a black bird with a white silhouette in the middle.  They shrugged.

We all got those, Izuku thought.  That he wasn’t singled out brought the tiniest bit of comfort.  He smiled back at them, wiped his eyes, and went back to the stack.

Beneath gifts of cool rocks and candy at the bottom, was a light purple envelope.  The handwriting addressing him was too nice to be a child’s.  Izuku dug it out, and recognized the insignia of the Safari Agency on the stamp.  He opened it immediately.

Midoriya Izuku,

First, I want to apologize for how I treated you during our time together.  What I believed to be strictness crossed the line into unnecessary hostility, and for that I am truly sorry.  It can be easy to forget that hero students such as yourself and your peers are still children, and no child should have to encounter what you did.  I understand that you were met with additional cruelty from some of my neighbors, so I will make it clear here: none of what happened was your fault.  It was a bad situation that you became involved in out of pure misfortune, nothing more.  You were a model guest and hero while working under me, and my colleagues have given no indication you were any different around them.  You have a bright future ahead of you.  Do not let the words and actions of others chain you down from reaching your potential.

I look forward to seeing where your path takes you,

-Kamoto Itsuki, Pathfinder

Izuku sniffled, and decided that was the last letter he’d look at for the day.

Everyone else was in high spirits on the walk back to the dorms.  Everyone else carried their own boxes.  Uraraka floated Izuku’s and pushed it along with hers.  She was worried he’d have an attack again.  And then he did.

It was like being shot in the back up out his mouth through his teeth.  The pain forced out the tears he’d managed to hold back for several hours.

Iida caught him again.  He, Uraraka, Aoyama, Tokoroki, and Tsuyu waited for it to be over while the others kept going.  They didn’t say anything, just looked on.  When he came to, he looked around, dazed.  Tsuyu and Aoyama looked to be on the brink of tears themselves.  Uraraka wasn’t even fighting them.  Todoroki didn’t look right at him, seemingly ashamed.  Gently, Iida pushed him up to sit on his own.  Izuku leaned forward, as is weighed down by the dread.

“Well, let’s go,” Iida broke the silence.  The others reluctantly rose to their feet.  No one asked if Izuku needed help to stand, they knew his answer.

I hate this, he thought.  He didn’t want to hurt his friends, but he was just so frustrated.  They walked ahead of him, every once in a while looking back.  His shadow was long enough that it reached their feet.  He couldn't tell if the shivering was from the cold or the dread.  Uraraka still had his box.  She wouldn’t even let me do this one thing…

The dread spiked when they got close to the trees, and he knew it was there.  His blood boiled.  If he looked directly at it, it would disappear.  He kept his shoulders hunched.  Where are you?  A bush rustled as a breeze passed.  Nothing there.  His friends where trying and failing to keep a conversation going among themselves.  Izuku opened his mouth slightly to taste the air.  He mostly caught Aoyama’s perfume.  They got closer.  Most of the leaves had died, so there was no where to hide.  He just had to wait.  Branches snapped.  He resisted turning to look.  A black mass appeared with another dread spike.  One for All raged.

“Midoriya?”

“Wha- Wait!”

“Where are you going?”

He was at the tree line in an instant.  The mass reformed deeper inside.  Alright, damn you.  Let’s see how you move!  Izuku leapt from tree to tree, cracking the bark with each impact.  Rotting leaves kicked up behind him.  The villain remained just out of his direct line of sight.  It teleported long before he could get close. 

“Coward!” he screeched.  It was teasing him.  Leading him in circles.  Dread clawed at him all the while.  What he could see of the mass was smaller than before, and it wasn’t just the distance.  It’s hiding the spikes!  “Why won’t you fight face to face?!”  He lost track of it.  He stopped on a tree to reorient himself.  The villain appeared again further away, a straight shot.  “Is it because you know you’ll lose?!”  Izuku pushed off the tree with his quirk hard enough to tip it over.  He flew through the air like an electrified bullet, and almost got it.  He smelled the reek it left behind.  But then he crashed into the dirt, a new wave of eye-bleeding dread kept him down for a moment.

Something grabbed his shoulders.

“Midoriya, that is enough!” Iida pleaded.  He was the only one who could have hoped to catch him, but it still wasn’t enough.  Izuku smacked his hands away, and Iida grunted back.

“Piss off!”  And he ran in further.

He came to a small clearing, and lost track of the villain again.  He spun wildly trying to get a glimpse.  Sweat dripped into his mouth as he panted.  Where are you where are you where are you?  Nothing.  Izuku slammed his foot into the earth, and it shook.

“Come on!” he snarled into the shadows.  He stomped again.  Dirt flew.  Birds fled.  Any leaves left on the trees were shaken loose.  "Come out and face me, damn you!"  His throat burned.  A trig snapped behind him.  He flipped around with a raised fist and a shout, but stopped.

“That’s enough, my boy,” All Might said.  He didn’t look angry or disappointed, just sad.

“I saw it,” Izuku growled with ragged breath.  His hero remained steadfast.  Aizawa stepped out from behind him, capture weapon at the ready.

“You damaged campus property and broke your classmate’s wrist.”  That gave him pause.  “The only reason you’re not being punished is because you aren’t in the right state of mind.  That changes if you go any further,” he warned.

“But, but it was there!  I had to go after it!”  Their faces didn’t change.  Izuku scowled.  “I saw it,” he hissed through clenched teeth.  Aizawa activated his quirk at the challenge.  All Might gestured for him to stand down, and took a few steps forward.

“Young Midoriya, there’s nothing there,” he implored.

“I…” he whimpered, and looked down at his feet.  The clearing was torn up from his stomping.  There wasn’t a spot of dirt without a shoeprint.  The dread cleared, if only for a moment.  He sighed.  “I know.”

All Might was once the only person who still considered the vague possibility that what his student saw was real.  Granted, he wasn’t gunning for opening an actual villain investigation, but he did bring up adding more security.  One time, when Izuku saw a bush rustle, instead of telling him there was nothing, they went and investigated the spot together.  Even though they didn’t find anything, the gesture still meant the world to Izuku.  And it was far from the only one.  All Might had already been in his hospital room for a while by the time he woke up from the sedatives.  He remained at his side when allowed while doctors ran tests.  And he stayed up with him those first few nights when the pain kept him awake.

Izuku didn’t come down that night.  He caused enough trouble.  After he picked the splinters out of his hands and apologized to Iida, he retreated upstairs.  Plus, he didn’t believe all the times All Might assured him he wasn’t getting in the way.  He saw the bags under his eyes.  He overheard Aizawa chastise him for late paperwork.  Worst of all, Izuku felt the guilt in his voice.  All Might blamed himself for what was happening to his successor; pain was something related to One for All, he thought.  All the past injuries were finally catching up to him, or the quirk was heightening already intense emotions, something like that.  The possibility that this was something that could last forever and end his career was suddenly on the fringe of their minds.  And there wasn’t anything either of them could do about it.

And so, Izuku faced the dread alone.  He wasn’t lying or hiding his pain, he was just giving his mentor a break.  One night wouldn’t kill either of them.

Then came the presence.  It was just that at first: a presence; the sense that he wasn’t alone in his dorm.  Eyes on him.  Then something touched him.  Breath in his face.  A tug at his shirt.  Fingers around his neck.  He only just barely felt anything, but knew it was there.  And he couldn’t move until it was gone.  Izuku couldn’t open his eyes, but he smelled the same reek of rot.  But he knew it wasn’t real.  He just had to let it pass…

Cold, thin fingers grasped his exposed shoulder, the one he broke last week in the fall.  The grip was somehow firm and weak at the same time, almost but not quite like his shoulder was asleep.  Nails dug into his skin; it didn’t hurt but it still felt wrong.  The wrongness tripled when the fingers followed the nails into his flesh.  Then a hand.  Then an arm.  The limb slithered beneath and across his chest as easily as crawling under a blanket.  Still no pain, but Izuku wanted to scream.  Fingers crept over his ribs like scaffolding, pulling the mass of the arm behind them. 

Just let it pass…

Bones don’t have nerves to feel when they are touched, but each tap of a fingernail sent shudders throughout Izuku’s being.  Every fiber cried out that this wasn’t supposed to be happening. 

Please pass…

The hand stopped at the second to last rib on his left.  Fingers encircled it.  The fist distorted muscles and organs.  Then it yanked.

The attack was short, but violent.  Izuku regained enough movement to writhe, but not enough to call out.  He was almost thankful for that.  His room was empty save for him when he came back down.  No proof of his assailant for anyone to see.  No lingering illness beyond the usual the others would baby him over.  No tears.

Once his breathing was back to normal, he curled up and closed his eyes again, just as he had done the four nights before. 

Nemuri considered herself to be a pretty successful hero.  Costume controversies aside, her record was clean, she had a respectable number of villain takedowns to her name, and she was popular enough to support herself without her second job.  Speaking of said job, she liked to think of herself as a good teacher, too.  She was organized, punctual, and did her damnedest to be available to help her students whenever they needed her. 

But these past few weeks had been tough on both sides of herself.  The Jakku murders were far more gruesome than her usual cases.  Despite it not being in her agency’s jurisdiction, she was a witness and was still occasionally called to discuss things with the local investigation.  Not that it helped.  The case was practically cold.  Pathfinder managed to find a few trails further up in the mountains, but they were disconnected; the killer seemed to vanish into thin air in between.  And then the paths disappeared altogether.  She wasn’t sure what they gained from asking her the same questions over the phone once a week.  Better her than her students.

That was where things got rough.  Cheat-A didn’t screen the mail like they’d asked, and a bunch or garbage got through.  There was the normal fair, like the weird sexual stuff.  And not even the weird stuff.  Nemuri liked to think she was all about sex positivity, but when it came to her students, she was the American father waiting on the porch with a shotgun for whatever pathetic excuse for a date was gonna try and take any of her little angels to the prom.  Suggestive letters were not okay.  Just because harassment happened every time they had a mail day didn’t make it okay. 

But this time, there was a murder for most of the letters to talk about.  It was far from the first time some of the students were traumatized by something they weren’t ready for; there was at least one incident per year.  Two of the three were pretty standard: Sero asked for an extension on his project and Hagakure came to the teacher’s lounge one day during lunch and had a good cry.  Nemuri was more than happy to oblige both requests and the kids seemed to be on their way back to normal.

But Midoriya only got worse.  She hadn’t been present for the worst of it, but had some idea.  She’d seen the footage of him suddenly going limp mid-air like he’d been shot.  She’d listened to All Might describe with tears in his eyes all the tests they ran on him that came up blank.  Only recently did she start seeing it for herself.  Formally one of her most enthusiastic students, he sat silently at the back of the class with eyes so exhausted it looked painful to keep them open.  At least, that’s what she thought before she witnessed one of the episodes she’d been hearing about.  One moment, she was writing something on the board and lecturing.  Next, she heard a sharp inhale and Midoriya was writhing in his seat.  It was over before she could do anything. 

The next day, he switched to the back right corner of the class.  Whenever he’d have an attack, he quietly put hit head down into crossed arms while his body shook. 

On the first day of presentations, he didn’t sit back up.  Initially, she though he was still bitter; he was originally scheduled to present on the first day before she talked (argued) him down to the last day.  But Iida leaned over to tap his shoulder, and he waved him away.  Nemuri leaned against the wall behind them, doing her best to listen to Shoji’s presentation on the Martian Manhunter.  All her hero/teacher instincts were telling her to check on the kid herself.  He could step outside if he needed to, and at this point she would only embarrass him further, but still.  His only movement for the rest of class was occasionally running a hand over his side. 

She held him back from lunch.

“M’fine,” he mumbled before she could say anything.

“I know,” she lied.  “This isn’t about that.”  It totally was.  Midoriya was scheduled to present in two days, and she wasn’t optimistic about him recovering in that time.  This was way beyond trauma; something was definitely wrong with him.  “How’s your project coming along?  Do you know what you want to say?”

“Pretty much, yeah.”  That at least sounded like the truth.  Knowing him, he probably had everything together a week in advance, sick or not.

“Well, I was thinking…  W-why don’t you prerecord everything you want to say, and play the audio over the slideshow you made, huh?”  That way you don’t have to worry about having an episode while you’re up in front of the class, went unsaid.  The last thing I want to do is hurt your pride even more, bu-

“Okay,” he conceded, far quicker and easier than she thought.  Nemuri expected another argument.  Instead, he looked up at her with a pinched expression.  All the light and fight in his eyes were nowhere to be seen.  She suddenly felt sick.

“Okay…  Have a good lunch…” she said, accepting the hollow victory.

“…  You too.” 

Nemuri cried when she got back to her desk in the teacher’s lounge.  She was no Aizawa or All Might, but Midoriya was her problem child too, damn it.  She hated not being able to help.  She hated that no one else could help him.  This was so far beyond PTSD.  He was clearly sick and suffering and yet nothing was being done.  The other thought in the back of her mind trying to kick and scream into the front was that this was just the prelude.  What if Midoriya’s illness was something that couldn’t be helped even if they knew what was wrong?  What if it ended his career before it even began?  That too, had happened to students in years passed.  She’d hugged a lot of crying kids in her life for a lot of reasons, but that one was, without a shred of doubt, the worst.  And to see that on the horizon of sweet, passionate, ‘the hero who never gives up’ little Midoriya ate her alive.

The other teachers felt it too.  They brought up the possibility of putting him on medical absence in the meeting a few days ago.  If the results of his visit with the specialist in a few days didn’t necessitate a hospital stay, they'd send him home the day after when his mother returned from her business trip.  No one discussed the matter further since then.  What else was there to say?  That was probably why no one bothered her during her mini breakdown.

In the grand scheme of things, it didn’t take her very long to compose herself.  Fifteen minutes, tops.  She felt a little guilty; her student’s waning health deserved longer than that. 

Nemuri came back from getting lunch to a sweet, but sad sight.  The curtains in the far corner were drawn, and the couch near them was pushed closer to the wall.  All Might’s fluffy hair poked up over edge as he knelt beside it.  He whispered something she couldn’t hear.  At a better angle, Midoriya was curled up under a blanket.  All Might reached out to him, but withdrew when he tensed.  Somberly, he stood up, paused, and walked away.  Only then did he notice her.

“Is he alright?” she questioned.

All Might sighed.  “Well, I don’t think he’s worse…”

“Then why’s he here?  Isn’t your class about to start?”

“Yes, yes I am...  But, well, since he’s not allowed to participate, he asked to sit in here, so he could try to sleep.”  All Might sighed again and rubbed his face.  “You don’t have any afternoon classes, right?  I-I hate to ask, but…”

She smiled sadly.  “Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on him.”

“Thank you.  Thank you…” he whispered, voice heavy.  With one last nod, he left.

She swallowed hard.  Poor guy.  That’s basically his kid.  Teacher’s weren’t allowed to bring up the rumor anymore, not that she ever really believed it in the first place.  But moments like that made her wonder.

Nemuri peered over the couch.  Midoriya’s complexion certainly looked worse than earlier.  But maybe it was in her head.  How much further could he sink in an hour?  She didn’t even notice him looking at her.

“Hey,” he mumbled. 

“Hey, bud.  How ya feel?”

“Shitty.”  That through her off.  She’d never heard Midoriya cuss before.

“…  You need anything?  We’ve got tea and some snacks in the fridge,” she offered.

“Can’t eat,” he all but hissed.  Nemuri recoiled back.

“Huh?”

“I can’t eat anything today because of the specialist’s appointment tomorrow,” he groaned. 

“Tomorrow?  I thought it wasn’t until the end of the week.”  She fiddled anxiously with the fabric of her costume.

“A spot opened up and they moved me.”  This was clearly not the first time he’d had to explain that today.

She pushed a little more out of habit.  “All Might said you asked to sit out today.  You didn’t want to take notes on your friends?”  He looked away and shrugged. 

“…  I’m tired.”

“…  I bet.”  Hero instincts said he was a scared kid who needed a hug.  Teacher instincts said to give him space.  You know he doesn’t like hugs from anyone who isn’t All Might…  And even that seems up in the air now.  She bit her lip and knelt beside him.  “Why not go back and sleep in the dorm?”

He covered his face with the blanket and murmured something unintelligible. 

“What was that, bud?”

He turned his head slightly.  “I’ve never had an attack in here…”  Under the blanket, his hand shifted back to his ribs.

Oh.  She almost said something along the lines of ‘let’s hope it stays that way.’  But she held her tongue.  Don’t want to jinx it.  Don’t want to risk making it worse when there’s nothing I can do to he-  Wait!  “Hey, I can help you get a little shut-eye, if you want, with my quirk.”  He looked back up at her quizzically.  “My quirk can’t get you to REM sleep, which is probably what you’re not getting.  I can only do so much…”

“’So much’ is better than nothing,” he said, giving her a weak little smile. 

Nemuri couldn’t help but smile back.  This kid!  She rolled up her sleeve and sat down.  He was definitely worse, though.  Up close, red scratch marks sliced his neck and hair line.  She couldn’t tell if the welts there were stress acne or a straight-up rash.  The bags under his eyes were so dark they looked like shiners, and the eyes themselves were disgustingly bloodshot.  His lips were chapped and bloody.  Her chest tightened. 

“Is your mom coming back to take you to the specialist?” she asked, voice cracking a bit.

“Mmno.  All Might’s taking me.”  Midoriya’s eyes drooped as pink mist breezed past.  “Miss Midnight?”

“Yeah, bud?”

“After classes, can I go home to grab some things?  I won’t have time if I have to stay in the hospital, and Hound Dog told me things from home help sometimes…”  He said it quickly and quietly, as if it were shameful.

“Sure, kid.  Just not alone.  You should take someone with you.  I’ll go too.”

A yawn.  “’Kay.”  And mercifully, he was out.

She couldn't finish her lunch.

Chapter Text

Home didn’t feel like home without Mom.  That surprised Izuku.  He expected a wave of comfort to accompany his return to the place he grew up, or at least some noticeable feeling.  That’s what happened when he’d returned from Jakku.  But it was just like stepping into any other familiar place he hadn’t been to in a while.  The dread remained.  He missed Mom.

“So, where’s your mom?” Todoroki prompted, unintentionally rubbing it in.

“Out of town.  Work trip,” Izuku answered flatly.  He could have sworn he told him already.  They sat down and took off their shoes in sync.

“Aw, I like you mom,” he said.  His hair was still wet from showering after training.

“I like my mom too.”  You’ve me her what?  Once, twice?

“What does she do again?”

“She bakes for a catering service.  She’s out of town working some conference,” he answered flatly.

“That’s cool.”  Todoroki’s bluntness towed the line between refreshing and annoying, which was exactly why Izuku brought him.  In theory, it was better than the way the others were both unable to focus on anything but his affliction while also failing miserably to act otherwise.

“I’m going to go start packing.  Are you okay waiting here?”

“I’m not going to set anything on fire if that’s what you’re asking,” he replied.  “You don’t want any help?”

“It’s not a lot, just some comfier clothes and stuff.”  Given the option, he would have come alone.  But Midnight insisted he bring along one of his classmates.  The teachers wanted more than one set of eyes on him at all times, but sending more than one of them off campus for a simple errand was a waste.  That was Izuku’s reasoning, at least. 

His room didn’t illicit much of a response either.  Most of his stuff was at the dorm.  A few empty shelves and bare furniture were all that remained.  Only thing of note was All Might’s sci-fi book on the desk where he left it weeks ago.  Everything was wrong.  The space felt too big, too open.  Nothing was in its proper place, but it was.  Back at U.A.  Just not at home.  But it should be home, he thought.  Dread churned.  Izuku sat on his bed (sans All Might sheets) and collected himself.  I really am homesick, huh?

An attack hit.  Izuku didn’t even try to fight it.  At least he was already in bed when he fell.  He lay there gasping for breath in agony for several seconds.  What little coherent thought he had left begged for Todoroki not to find him.  And then it was over.  He stayed down for a couple minutes, before sighing, and getting up for what he came for.  Not even home could protect him.

The stuff was in a bin in the corner of his closet.  The plush bunny that looked like his hero costume Yaoyorozu gave him sat on top.  Did I ever show it to Mom?  He meant to give it to her.  She’d made him promise to send her the first piece of Deku merch, (“Not if, but when it’s made,”) no matter how much it embarrassed him.  Besides, keeping a mini-version of himself was a little weird.  Not that he wasn’t thankful for Yaoyorozu’s gift; Mom would probably appreciate it more. 

The rest of the bin’s contents were things from when he was younger.  There was a folder of his drawings, a few of his first hero analysis books, and a myriad of toys he never let Mom give away.  As much as he wanted to take the time to go through all of them, people were waiting for him.  One of his old All Might onesies was in there too; he knew Mom kept at least one more in her room.  Beneath all that nostalgia was what he came for: a soft, small blanket and his first ever All Might plush.  Both were so faded it was hard to make out the original colors. 

The plushie was especially worn.  The once velvety material had become fuzzy and frayed.  Thick thread stood out at the base of the stuck-up hair where Mom had to stitch them back on after a bully ripped them off.  That was the day he stopped taking it everywhere, he remembered.  He must have been two or three.  He recalled crying beside Mom while she sewed more than the incident itself.  What he didn’t remember was how or where he’d gotten it in the first place.  As far back as his memories went, it was there too.  Back then, it was nearly as big as he was.  But now, at sixteen years old, it felt small in Izuku’s scarred hands.  The one small thing in his too-big empty room.  The one piece of All Might merch that even he had been too embarrassed to take to school.  The one thing that, if only for a moment while he squeezed it to his chest, chased away the dread.

Plushies, blanket, and All Might’s sci-fi book tucked discreetly into a bag beneath some clothes, he reemerged.  Just because Todoroki was the least likely person to tease him for anything didn’t mean he wanted his friend to see that he was desperate enough to turn to baby stuff for comfort.  Speaking of Todoroki, he seemed to be content wandering around the kitchen looking at each and every one of Mom’s knick-knacks as if they held some sort of deeper truth to the universe.

“Looking for something?” Izuku asked weakly, if for nothing else than to fill the quiet.

“Your house is nice,” he hummed.  No indication he knew about the attack.  “This is the sort of place I’d like to live when I move out.”

Not the response he expected.  “Really?  Thanks, but, I feel like if you’re going for a top spot in heroics, you can aim for a nicer place than a two-bedroom apartment.”

“Yeah, maybe.  But I think I’d like to try somewhere smaller first.”  Todoroki’s tone gave nothing away.

“Why’s that?” he asked genuinely. 

“I’ve lived in a big estate all my life, and, well, it was less than pleasant.  It’s not fun getting lost in your own home,” he responded, poking at a ceramic chicken.

Izuku chuckled half-heartedly, though he wasn’t sure if it was meant to be a joke or not.  Grass is always greener, I guess.

“It’s just too big to be practical.  Even before my father began isolating me from my siblings, I swear I used less than a quarter of the property regularly,” he continued dryly.  “We have a pool.  I didn’t know until two years ago.”

“I-I’m not sure what to say to that.”  He wished he did.  Todoroki didn’t open up all that often.  He did so less and less after they moved to the dorms, probably worried about someone overhearing.  Maybe this was his way of empathizing.  Or maybe something flipped his overshare switch and it was going to be one of those times.  It was hard to tell with him.  Izuku listened nonetheless.

“Yeah.  Plus, my father is very strict in his aesthetic.  Everything must be minimalist classical Japanese, even our bedrooms.  And it’s not like we need the space.  There were only so many of us and the old man doesn’t exactly have hobbies,” he ranted.

“He doesn’t use his money to buy expensive things, just so he can have them?  He seems like the type.”  He put his bag down and sat at the kitchen counter.

“The house is the thing.  You have to be obnoxiously rich to afford that much nothing.”  He rolled his eyes.  “Yaomomo’s family at least has galleries and rooms for different activities.  We have long, empty hallways that belong in a horror movie.”

“Wow.”  Was that an actual attempt at a joke?  From Todoroki?

“I’m not even sure he likes it.  I think he just wants to distance himself that much more from All Might and all his American-isms.”  He turned away.  “Couldn’t even put up pictures,” he cursed, gesturing to the ones hanging on the wall.  He took a few moments to scan each photo.  Izuku followed his gaze.  Most were of him and Mom through the years.  There were a couple tucked in the corner with his dad in them.  He prayed Todoroki wouldn’t point them out.  “Is that your dad?” he pointed out.

He deflated.  God, Todoroki why did I bring you?  Out of everyone, you were getting on me the least.  Why this now? 

“…  Yes.”  The photo was of a toddler Izuku sitting on his smiling father’s shoulders.  His hair was black and curly, like his own, but shorter.  They had matching All Might T-shirts.  Todoroki stepped closer to examine it.  I swear to whatever higher power just ignored my prayers, if you ask me to talk about him, I’m throwing you out.  I don’t want to talk about this today.

The other boy sighed disappointedly.  “It’s not All Might.”  His voice sounded caught between a question and a statement.

Izuku almost wanted to laugh.  “No.  My dad is not All Might.  We have been over this multiple times.”

“You’ve never mentioned your dad.”  He said it like he was pointing out the weather.

“No, I haven’t,” he stated through gritted teeth. 

Todoroki finally got the hint that he was about to cross a line.  Or maybe he was oblivious and never intended the discussion to go anywhere else, it wasn’t clear.  Either way, he moved on.  Sort of.  

“But if All Might was your dad, would your fanboy worship be more or less weird?”

Izuku groaned, but more good-naturedly this time.

“I’m not saying it’s a problem.  I’m actually sort of jealous.”

“Of what?”  Besides the obvious not-having-an-abusive-father thing.

“Your family having and letting you have all that stuff.  Not like we couldn’t afford it.  Like I said, I couldn’t put up my own decorations if I wanted to.  And even with them, my old man’s place is too big for even that much stuff to even make a dent.  That’s why I want to live in a place like this.”  He gestured around.  Izuku couldn’t see the signifigance.  “It’s small, but it feels full.  Lived-in.  I’m going to use my hero money on filling my home with every little thing that I even remotely like, never throw any of it away, and there’ll be no one to stop me.”  He looked around and nodded. 

“So, you’re going to be a hoarder.”  The words fell out of his mouth.

He snapped and pointed.  “Exactly,” but monotone.

Izuku laughed, only slightly but for real.  His friend smiled. 

“Todoroki, there’s a middle ground between minimalism and hoarding.”

“The middle ground is for people who lack conviction,” he said with the same determination he used to pick fights.

More laughter.  His bag almost slipped out of his hand, cutting him off.

“Sorry, I’m making this about me again,” Todoroki apologized, still smiling.  “Do you have what you came for?”

“Yeah, I’m good.  And it’s okay.  It was a nice distraction, actually.”  He threw the bag over his shoulder and led his friend to the door.

“Same,” he sighed.  “Thanks for letting me get this off my chest.  I’ve been more worked up than usual lately.”

“Why’s that?  Is Ende-“

“No, it’s not him.  Not directly, at least.”  He was quiet while Izuku locked the door.  He wondered if he was the distraction.  But Todoroki started up again as they walked down the stairs.  “I keep having this weird dream where my quirk stops working while me and him are sparring, and I can’t block him in time.”

Izuku stared at him like he just confessed to having cancer. 

“Don’t look at me like that, it’s just a dream,” Todoroki chastised.  “Besides, it’s not the first dream like that I’ve had.  Just the most recent…”  His mouth remained open as if to say something else, but it never came.  They rounded the corner where Midnight and the car back to U.A. waited.

“You sure you don’t want to tell anyone?” Izuku whispered, motioning towards her.  “I’ll back you up.”

“No, not yet.  Hero society is already in a tiff.  I don’t think it would be smart in the long run to stir the pot.”  His voice dripped with barely-controlled regret.

“Then when?”

“When there isn’t so much going on.”  He almost gestured to Izuku but stopped himself.  “…  And when I have my own house.”

Quirk-Assisted Medicine was a section of the hospital Toshinori hadn’t been to before, which was saying something.  He must have had every type of surgery under the sun, but never one that required more than basic healing quirks.  Brochures advertising all sorts of procedures lined every flat surface in the empty waiting room.  There were quirk-enhanced versions of common practices like acupuncture and physical therapy, to specific efforts like re-growing a limb or being put into a coma to relive lost memories.

His frequent visits to hospitals never fully dulled his discomfort with them.  Toshinori’s mind tended to focus on the illness and injury aspect, rather than the healing.  He recalled the one he went to after his debut in Japan.  It was one of the worse train accidents in the region’s history.  Hundreds dead or dying.  The halls overflowed with the people he and others pulled from rubble.  Screams of agony haunted him still; some from those still in pain, others from the families of those who would never feel pain again. 

There were also the cohorts of All for One that based themselves in hospitals once upon a time.  For who knows how long before All Might brought them down, they callously experimented on the sick and dying for purposes never fully understood.  No matter how many times he reminded himself those monsters were long-since dealt with, Recovery Girl was still his first choice for a check-up. 

And then there was Young Midoriya.  A small team of doctors were going to use their quirks to assess his condition directly.  “Directly” entailed doctors shrinking down and entering his body to look for damage in person, while another could tap into his nervous system and check for anomalies.  They could also apparently check for issues with his brain based on chemical patterns.  Both physical and mental fronts covered in one procedure.  Such a comprehensive analysis should finally find answers to his student’s suffering. 

And yet, he felt even more anxious on behalf of the kid.  It wasn’t that he didn’t trust the doctors, his history with All for One fervently suppressed.  His research the day before indicated that they were some of the best in their field.  But that didn’t change the fact that the procedure was the definition of invasive.  Any procedure that dealt with the nervous system was high-risk by nature; the list of potential complications was almost as long as the article explaining the full operation.  And Midoriya’s comfort zone barely covered an arm around his shoulders, and this was beyond the pale.  Not to mention, the looming possibility that the doctors wouldn’t be able to find the problem.

No.  Absolutely not.  We’re being optimistic today, he told himself.  They’re going to find out what’s wrong so Young Midoriya can start treatment, and we can put this whole miserable mess behind us, he thought, forcing a smile.

Speaking of miserable, he was surprised that his young charge besides him didn’t look as though he was about to keel over.  This was even though he hadn’t eaten anything in almost twenty-four hours, probably hadn’t slept in just as long, and was about to have his brain and body poked at by strangers.  Instead, he was eerily calm as he flipped through the Superman book.  Toshinori recognized the look he wore.  He’d seen it in the victims he rescued as a hero, and in the mirror in the days before he met Midoriya: he’d given up.

“They’re probably going to call us back any moment.  How are you feeling?” he ventured, lower than a whisper despite them being the only ones there.

“…  Is it possible to feel better and worse at the same time?” he asked, the first thing he’d said since they arrived.  And Toshinori’s heart broke that much more.  He lifted his arm and Midoriya leaned into the half hug.  If not for the circumstances, he’d be celebrating his student accepting the gesture without fuss.  But at that moment, it seemed to be another symptom of how far from himself Midoriya felt.

“I know you’re tired of hearing it, but I’m sorry,” he said, resting his cheek on his head.  His hair was a far cry from its usual softness.

“I’m tired of a lot of things.”  Had he not been so quiet, it would have sounded like a growl. 

So much for positivity.  They sat in silence for a few minutes while Toshinori rubbed his shoulder. 

Midoriya elaborated before he could ask.  “It’s weird.  I haven’t felt anything or had an attack since I visited home…  B-but I still couldn’t sleep, because I was so worried about it coming back like always, so…  Does it even matter?”

“…  I wish I knew what to say, my boy,” he sighed.  What he wouldn’t give for this boy to feel just a little better.  If he could take his successor’s pain unto himself, he would in a heartbeat.  But the only thing he could offer him was his presence.  It wasn’t enough.

“What if…” he began weakly.  Toshinori leaned in to listen.  “What’s going to happen…  If, if they can’t find what’s wrong?”

“Don’t, don’t talk like that, they’re going to figure it out,” he sputtered.  Midoriya isn’t the fatalistic sort.  How bad is this?

“But what if they can’t?  What about…”  The buzz of the air conditioning was almost louder than his next question.  “…  I’ll have to give One for All to someone else.”

Toshinori stiffened.  “No.  No, no, no no no, my boy.  Don’t say things like that,” he pleaded.  “That sort of thing shouldn’t even be on your mind, what are you talking about?”

“I’m a liability.  I can’t save people if I can’t keep it together, like you and Mom said.”  He slowly closed the book and held it to his chest.  He didn’t want Toshinori to take it again.

“My boy, if this is about you not being worthy, you are,” he argued desperately.  Of course, this is the context he takes that to heart.  “None of this has called whether you deserve One for All into question.  You’re going to grow up to be an excellent he-”

“All Might I can’t.  Not like this,” he begged him to understand.  He looked so, so tired, even when he looked away. 

Toshinori couldn’t fathom the state of mind Midoriya was in.  Sure, he had his own myriad of injury and illness.  But he also had thirty years of experience pushing past them.  That was just what he did.  Even in the face of death he kept going, like Superman did in the story the boy held.  But Midoriya was a child, barely dipping a toe into the prime of his life.  This was very likely the worst thing he had ever experienced.  Reality was setting in.  To force the resilience of a veteran onto a teenager was cruel.  To trivialize a genuine concern for the future even more so.  Reluctantly, Toshinori folded.

“If, if today’s exam come up blank,” he whispered in his successor’s ear as he held him tighter, “then we can talk tomorrow about maybe making, making the change.”  The words were acid in his mouth.  He closed his eyes.  In the end, he couldn’t go all the way.  “But, just for today, I want you to keep hope.  Today, you are still the undisputed successor of One for All and the future Symbol of Peace.”  He searched and searched, but couldn’t find anything else to say.  He looked into his student’s eyes.  “Okay?”

“…  Okay,” Midoriya relented.  Weak as it was, Toshinori accepted the response.  He wanted to hug him tighter, but already felt like he was riding a boundary.  It was selfish to ask that his successor put off his increasingly valid worries, but he needed this.  He reasoned that they both did.  They needed time to think to themselves about the possibilities going forward, even if it was under the guise of pretending it would all work out. 

They were quiet again for a while.

“Hey,” Toshinori broke it.  “How ‘bought after we get out of here, we go get some food?  Anything you want.  You want to go to some fancy joint or some real specific food cart out in the boonies, I’ll take you.  It’s on me either way.  What do you say?”  He didn’t even try to mask his desperation.

“Sure.  If they let me out.”  He gestured to the overnight bag at his feet. 

“Right…  Right…”  He cleared his throat.  He asked under his breath, “I can still smuggle some stuff in.  Any idea what you want?”

“I thi-“

“Midoriya Izuku?” a nurse cut him off.

“I’ll think about it,” he finished.

Preliminary checks before the doctor came in went over in sterile silence.  The wing was near deserted that time of morning.  But no background noise in the world would have lessened Toshinori’s discomfort.  Midoriya seemed lifeless.  In less than a week since he was last in the hospital, he lost almost three kilograms.  His bloodshot eyes barely dilated when the nurse shined a light into them.  Poor kid had been in the game less than a year and already he’d gotten IVs so often he had no reaction.  Toshinori was scraping fifty and he still flinched sometimes.  But Midoriya did jump at the doctor’s entrance.

The head neurosurgeon wasn’t the sort to stand out appearance-wise.  Middle-aged, average appearance, no obvious quirk.  His gloves stood out, though; with the bright red color and the unusual padding around the fingertips, how could they not? 

“Good morning, gentlemen.  I’m Dr. Nokan, and I’m going to be spearheading today’s procedure,” he introduced himself.

Midoriya shuddered subtly.  “Hello.”

“Good morning,” Toshinori greeted.

“All Might I presume?” he asked, seemingly ignoring his actual patient.

“You presume correct.”  We’re not here for me, he tried to say with his face.  He tried to parse out if the man was a fan or just being rude.

“I saw that you’re listed as an emergency contact, but not a family member,” he questioned.

Oh.  That’s a reasonable thing to wonder.  “I’m his teacher.  His mother is out of town right now.  The original plan, as I understand it, was to put off this appointment until she returned, but,” he faltered.  “But Young Midoriya’s condition has been deteriorating rapidly, and this was the earliest time available.  The school and I discussed things with Mrs. Midoriya, and she agreed to let me accompany her son in her stead.”

To Midoriya: “All that true?”

“Yes,” he responded flatly.

He should know it’s true.  Mrs. Midoriya called ahead.  I get there’s probably a policy or something, but I’d rather not drag this out.

“No other family who could have come with you?”

“No.”  The doctor gestured for him to elaborate.  Midoriya frowned.  “My dad works overseas.  Everyone else might as well be strangers.”

“That so?  Where overseas does your dad work?”

“America, but I can’t remember which city exactly.  But he’s on the east coast.  He’s an interpreter,” he replied bitterly.  The doctor looked ready to ask further, but Toshinori shook his head slightly.  He had zero knowledge of that situation, but knew the boy wouldn’t wield that kind of venom on a whim.

“…  Okay then.”  The doctor cleared his throat.  “According to this, you have two primary states of heightened symptoms: bouts of extreme anxiety, and painful non-seizure spasms, concentrated around your back.  That about right?”

“I had one seizure, and it’s more like three states.” 

“I have the seizure noted, yes.  Can you please elaborate of the third state?”

“Well, it’s sort of like the dread but less…  Physical?  Like, I feel cold, and like there’s something actually in my body squeezing my insides and holding me down.  Mostly in my back and chest.  But lately, I’ve been feeling it so often that when I’m not feeling it, like now, I have just regular anxiety about when it’s going to come back.  That’s the third state.”  The bitterness in his voice gave way to despair.  “Does that make sense?”

Toshinori cringed.

“So, you’re not feeling the more intense form now?” the doctor continued.

“Not since yesterday.  Just normal nerves,” he muttered.

“And these feelings of anxiety and ‘dread’ as you put it, they’re that distinct?”

He nodded.  “I also only have the pain attacks when I’ve been feeling the dread.”

He wrote that down.  “And when did this all start?”

Midoriya took a deep breath.  “Our class took a field trip up to Jakku for hero training.  I was on patrol with some others and we” -he swallowed- “found a murder scene.  I felt really out of it after that, but the dread, the real dread, didn’t start until the day after.  I had to give this speech and during it, I thought I was just having a really bad panic attack, but it didn’t go away until we left town the next morning.”

A chill went up his spine.  Toshinori recalled the moment on the bus where Midoriya cried in his lap.  Hearing what he considered a soft moment in this new context piled-on the guilt.

“But that was a month ago.  A week later, the dread came back.  It would last a few hours during the day, then go away by the time I went to bed.  The attacks started a few days later.  At first, they only ever came while I was doing something active outside, like running or training.  But ever since I had the seizure, the pain and dread can come at any time, and there’s barely a break between,” he suppressed a whine.

“Okay.  Can you tell me the circumstances around the seizure?”  The doctor’s voiced road the line between sympathy and seriousness.

“…  I had a bad dream,” he admitted after a few moments.  “When I didn’t come down for breakfast, my classmates found me on the floor, seizing.”

“Anything peculiar about the dream?”

Midoriya looked embarrassed.  “A villain broke into my room and cornered me.  It looked how I pictured the Jakku murderer.”  He put his head down.  “I thought it had been real for a while.”

Toshinori put a hand on the boy’s knee.  He didn’t react.

The doctor hummed and wrote the last bit down.

“So, do you know how today’s procedure is going to work?” he switched gears.

“Someone is going to shrink down and check for wounds while someone else taps into my nervous system.”  His tone returned to monotone calm.

“In a broad sense, you’re right.”  He flipped through a few pages of his clipboard and showed the two a diagram of a body.  “We’re going to be making three incisions: the base of your spine and neck, as well as the sight of your pain, that being the middle of your back.”  He pointed to each one with his pen.  “I’m going to use my quirk, Dendrite, to interface directly with your nervous system.”  Carefully, he removed a glove flap on his finger.  In place of fingernails, tiny tendrils stretched out and wiggled slightly. 

Toshinori suppressed a gag.  He’s just going to stick his fingers into an open incision!?  How does someone even discover a quirk like that?

“Your system will be temporarily connected to mine, and I will be able to sense any physical abnormalities or damage in the nerves themselves,” he said, putting the glove back on.  “From there, my colleagues with shrinking quirks will conduct their own investigation.  They’ll look for damage to areas that aren’t nerves, as well as take readings for chemical imbalances.  We’ll work our way out from the pain sight and finish with the brain.”  Then he concluded, “This should all take a few hours, but when all is said and done, we’ll stitch you up, and hopefully have an idea of what to do for treatment going forward.  How’s all that sound?”

Neither responded right away.  Midoriya’s lack of questions about the finer details of the quirk functions was disheartening, even if Toshinori really didn’t want to know.  He wasn’t surprised though, not really.  He just hoped that his successor would gain his enthusiasm back after the procedure was over.

“Yeah…”  Midoriya cringed.  “Can we please get this over with?” 

“I understand completely.  But rest assured, you’re in the most capable hands in this field,” he said to Toshinori, not Midoriya.

He took a deep breath, then looked to his student.  Midoriya’s calm cracked a bit; his fingers were shaking.  What he wouldn’t give to take his student away from this miserable place.  But at that point, it would only do more harm.

“I…  I’ll be okay, All Might,” he mumbled.  “Besides, I don’t have any other options…”  His attempt at a reassuring smile was like a bullet through his chest.

He sighed.  “All right, okay.  It’s your decision anyway.”  He ruffled the boy’s hair lightly, lingering a bit before he pulled away.  He pictured him splayed out on an operating table, the skin of his back peeled away, eyes still open.  Like a ritual sacrifice.

Another set of negative experiences in hospitals clawed their way back to the forefront of his thoughts.  Dying children used to ask All Might to visit them as a last request.  Young children.  The encounters themselves were pleasant, but they all ended with the bittersweet knowledge that they wouldn’t live much longer after he left.  Toshinori lingered to watch his boy until nurses wheeled him out of sight. 

Please let this time be different.

Izuku threw his bag against the wall before throwing himself into bed, pain be damned.

“Medical anomaly?”  What horseshit.  He screamed into his pillow.  It was already dark out.  His whole body ached from doctor whatever jamming his fingers into his insides and a day wasted, and what did he have to show for it?  “Inconclusive results.”  Fucking garbage.  Results were right there! 

“In medicine, we have this phrase: ‘If you here hoofbeats, look for horses, not zebras.’”

Well, here’s a zebra, staring right in your generic face.  But noooooo.  We have to triple check it’s not a goddamn horse.  Izuku whimpered and ran a finger over the stitches at the base of his neck.  They were thicker and less discrete then the ones Recovery Girl gave.  He sat up and took deep breaths until he stopped shaking. 

“It’s fine.  I’m fine.”  No I’m not.

The doctors couldn’t find anything wrong with him.  They combed his whole nervous system and couldn’t find a single thing out of place.  Recovery Girl had been partially right in her initial theory: the pain signals originated in his brain rather than the actual site of pain.  But the doctors didn’t think it was somatic system disorder. 

According to them, there was excess chemical buildup in his -he had to check his phone for the word- supramarginal gyrus, the main part of the brain that deals with empathy.  This, and the timing in relation to witnessing a gruesome crime scene, lead them to believe he had something called “empathetic fixation.”  It’s apparently common among children on the empath-quirk spectrum.  They witness something traumatic, then repeatedly recreate the perceived pain within themselves.

“There’s also the chance that someone is using an empathy quirk on him, but that would be less likely and harder to prove.”

Harder to prove?  HARDER TO PROVE?!  Because the other option is SO MUCH more likely! he screamed in his mind.  I have an extra toe joint!  I have no other symptoms of being an empath!  We did this already!  They brought in someone with a damn quirk detection quirk and they found nothing but One for All!  He punched into his pillow.  The shaking came back, as well as the tears.  But no, someone else couldn’t be attacking me!  I’m just a “medical anomaly.”  Horses before zebras my ass.

His shirt rubbed a stitch the wrong way and he winced.  It would be at least two days before they could be taken out.  Wouldn’t be able to shower until then either.  The dread and attacks would come back before then.  Why won’t they?  Izuku didn’t even feel grimy, he just wanted to get rid of that godforsaken hospital smell.  Maybe it would be longer.  Maybe the doctors, in their infinite wisdom, declared he needed more surgeries and pushed his long-earned shower back even further.  He wouldn’t put it passed them.  After all, they expected him back bright and early the next day for empath testing.

I probably won’t even be able to go home with Mom.  Izuku sniffled.  I miss Mom.  I miss her so much.  I hope they let me go home.  I wanna go home.  But she’ll still be there with me, even if they make me stay…  But what if they don’t? his wandering mind questioned.  What if they put me in quarantine and don’t let me see her?  He couldn’t come up with a reason why they would, but the worry consumed him nonetheless.

He filled her in on the situation over the phone right after the doctors had.

“They think you have another quirk?  Isn’t that good though?” she had said.

No.  NO!  It’s not good.  It’s not fair, that’s what it is.  They won’t admit something else is hurting me for some reason.  I don’t have another quirk.  It’s impossible.  Even if I did, where the hell has it been this whole time?  Where was it when no one wanted to be my friend for ten years?  When my teachers said I’d never get anywhere without one?  When bullies destroyed anything that was mine because no one cared enough to stop them? 

Suddenly, he remembered his bag.  Though his body ached, he got up to retrieve its contents.  He left the change of clothes be; he’d probably need them in the coming days.  But buried beneath them was his old blanket along with his mini-him and All Might plush.  As if they were fragile, he gently put them back on his bed.  He changed into pajamas before he laid back down, despite his exhaustion.  Hunger too, since someone ate his leftovers again.  His body hadn’t hurt like this since he first started training with All Might.

The real one, he thought as he snuggled up to the plush.  The thread that reattached the hair wasn’t unlike his own stitches, in his mind at least.

The real All Might had been there when he woke up, just like he had been after the seizure and countless other times he’d hurt himself.  True to his word, he snuck in some outside food.

“You never said what you wanted, so, I went and got some tokoyaki from that one stand down the road where we dropped of junk from the beach.  Remember that place?  Sorry, but you were under longer than they said you’d be, so they’re a little cold.”

Regretfully, Izuku didn’t eat them; he felt too sick.  When he said as much, All Might apologized again, and ran his large hands through his hair.  Not the playful ruffling he gave him almost daily, but a gentle, comforting caress he only did ever so often.  Like on the beach after Kamino; or on the bus.  And Izuku cried.

“It’s okay, my boy.  I’m here.  I’ve got you.  I’m here,” Izuku repeated through fresh tears as he mimicked the gesture with his All Might plush on Mini-him.  He pulled both close, and cocooned himself as best he could in the small blanket.

He was done.  It was all too much.  All he wanted was for the pain to stop.  He’d give anything to make it stop.  He was so done, that as he laid down to make another futile effort at sleep while the dread crept back, it crossed his mind that maybe it wouldn’t be so bad not to wake up.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Inko felt a lot of things on the train back home.  She was tired of course.  Who wouldn’t be tired on a train at five in the morning after working a week-long conference?  Then there was the worry.  Izuku was sick.  Her precious, baby boy was sick and suffering and she’d been sitting pretty in lecture halls all week.  Sure, she had been making and serving food most of the time, but still.  He insisted she not worry.  He said she didn’t get out of town enough and deserved a change of scenery.  But how could she?  His teachers passed along the details of his condition.  And as bad as all that seemed, she knew her son.  She knew he hid the worst of his pain.  Each word of the diagnosis they forwarded her could have so much more hurt behind it.  All that worry compounded into sleepless nights, which left her even more tired.

She was almost grateful for the crying toddler a few rows behind her.  He at least kept her awake.  It took a great deal of willpower not to pull her travel pillow out of the luggage at her feet.  The old seats weren’t doing her neck any favors.  But she was determined to beat the rush to get out.  They were almost there anyway.

Brief relief accompanied the announcement that the train was nearing Mustafu.  It would be good to be home.  Even better to be that much closer to holding her son.

Then sadness.  She wouldn’t be able to take her son home right away.  After dropping her luggage at the apartment, she’d meet Izuku at the hospital, where they were going to run empath tests on him for who knows how long.  As she had tried to explain to the doctor over the phone, Izuku had been tested for several non-obvious quirks, including the empath spectrum.  Hisashi had insisted they double check even after the X-ray results.  They never found anything.

Empath exams were, by nature, emotionally taxing.  They involved exposure to unpleasant experiences, both direct and indirect.  Inko remembered one vividly: Izuku was put in an empty white room with his arm hooked up to a machine while a doctor aggressively asked him tough questions over an intercom.  The goal (allegedly) was to see if Izuku could project his distress onto some nurses he couldn’t see in a room over.  Inko and Hisashi nearly tore the observation room apart when their son started crying out for them.  They took to calling the entire process the Voight-Kampff test, after the one in Blade Runner.  Hisashi swore up and down for years that the doctor literally said: “It’s a test designed to provoke an emotional response.”

The memory brought a bittersweet smile to her face.  That had been the first time in weeks she and her husband were on the same page.  Hisashi was in denial about their son not having a quirk, while Inko just wanted to grieve on behalf of Izuku’s shattered dreams.  After the trauma of the Voigt-Kampff, with Izuku asleep in his arms, Hisashi promised that no minor quirk was worth torturing their baby.  He never pushed for more tests and their marriage went back to normal, if not grew closer.  And it came at the expense of their son’s mental health.

The familiar lights of Mustafu’s skyline appeared in the distance.  The toddler was still bawling.  Inko didn’t hear any attempts from the parents to quiet him.  He couldn’t be much older than Izuku had been at the time.  But Izuku hadn’t wailed.  He whimpered quietly into his curled-up legs and begged for his Mommy and Daddy.  When they finally collected him, he didn’t react right away; he stared at them like they were any other strangers.

A chill went up her spine.  And now, they might be putting her son through that again.  She wasn’t sure how he’d react now that he was older.  Sure, he’d since been through arguably worse than some provocative questions, but that wasn’t the only test.  Said tests had also been updated in the intervening ten years.  There had been a speaker on new empath tests at the conference, but Inko avoided it on principle.  A different event needed her help more anyway.  Not my circus, not my monkeys, she tried to justify to herself.  That was before she learned that Izuku was going to be tested.  She had a good cry after that.  There was also the concern that the tests were designed for little kids; infants and toddlers just coming into their quirks.  Izuku was a teenager with a particular distain for being treated like he was any younger.  Either way, it wasn’t going to be a fun time.

Izuku’s empty, defeated tone echoed through her mind as the train pulled into the station.  Only one emotion slipped through: anger.  After she had the audacity to try and spin this new development as a good thing.

“No,” he had sighed.  “I already have a quirk.  I don’t need another one.”

Tears pricked her eyes as she hauled her luggage to the exit, pushing past the crowd.  Cold air hit her as she stepped off.  Those few words told a whole story of hurt.  Whatever he was feeling was so much worse than shattered bones and the risk of paralysis.  That pain was worth it for the quirk, this new sort was not.

I hope Hisashi found the time to talk to Izuku about all this.  He was always better with words than me anyway…

The station was mostly dead at that hour, meaning fewer people to witness her futile efforts to bury a breakdown.  The toddler’s cries faded into the background.  Her vision was so blurry, had it not been for unconscious memory, she would have taken the wrong path out.  Inko took a moment to sit down at a bench, and make a deal with herself. 

If I can make it home within the next hour, I’ll give myself a few minutes to cry, alright? she reasoned.  Izuku needs me to be there for him.  Haven’t I cried enough this week?  Oh, who am I kidding?  I’m probably the only person who cries more than him.  With a deep breath, she marched her way to the proper exit.  But he needs me to be strong.

As soon as she got above ground, even colder air running through, her phone rang.  She’d never hit answer so fast.

“Izuku?  Izuku what’s wrong?  Why are you up this early?” she asked frantically.  The street lights were still on.

A little whine.  “You’re okay!”  That was the most emotion she’d heard from him in days, and it hurt.

“Shh, of course I’m okay, Baby.  What’s wrong?” 

“Where are you?” he pressed.

“I just left the station near home, why?  Did something happen to you?” she asked, worry building evermore. 

“I kept calling and calling, but you didn’t pick up.”  Her heart cracked every time his voice did. 

Then a new muffled voice: “Do you want me to explain?”

Izuku sniffled.  “Okay…  Love you, Mom.”

“I love you too, Baby.”  The sound of his phone changing hands came from the other line.  Inko had never been so relieved to hear his homeroom teacher.

“Mrs. Midoriya,” Aizawa began.  “No point in formalities.  A villain came after your son tonight.”

Relief gone.  “A-a villain?”

“Yes.  A villain broke into campus and targeted your son.  It managed to escape, and we have reason to believe that it coming after you is a possibility.”  His clipped tone masked shame and concern, she knew it.

Inko froze in place.  The familiar street before her suddenly felt that much emptier and foreboding.  “What- What should I do?” she squeaked.

“You said you’re by the station?”  He didn’t give her a chance to respond.  “Go back inside.  Stay where you know security can see you.  A person, not a camera.  We’ve already sent an officer to come get you.”

She backtracked to the stairs robotically.  “Izuku…  Is Izuku alright?  The vi- he’s not hurt, is he?”

“…  Honestly, I’m not sure,” he whispered.  She could hear him walking from her son’s whimpers in the background.  “I think the villain is responsible for your son’s ailment.”

Had it not been for her quirk, she would have dropped her phone.  Inko had to keep it on to make up for her shaking hands.

“I went after it, and…  It had a quirk that gave me similar symptoms as Izuku…”

“Really?”  That was an idiotic response.  Why would he make that up?

“Temporarily, yes.  It all stopped after the villain escaped.”

Sudden confidence shocked her back straight.  “And why did it take you all this long to find this out?”  Rudeness be damned.  “Something has been slowly killing my son for a month and it took until now for ‘the best hero school in the country’ to realize it?”

“That wasn’t its only quirk.  Our current knowledge indicates that the villain was one of the nomus.  Engineered specifically to work around our defenses.  We’re still reviewing the evidence, but it appears to be able to cancel out security cameras and quirk sensors.”  His tone wasn’t defensive, just explanatory.  Inko bit her lip, and understood.

“…  Why him?” she cried weakly, her accusatory vigor spent.  She wiped yet another wave of tears away.  “Why does everything have to happen to him?”

Aizawa sighed.  “Your son is an excellent hero and an even better person.  He’s made impressions on a lot of people.  That unfortunately includes villains…”  He paused as if to say more, but didn’t.

No one, outside of All Might, had ever said something so kind about her son.  Even with the part about villains, it warmed her.  She cried a little more, and Aizawa waited patiently.  Inko composed herself after a few moments. 

“So, what now?”  There seemed to be more security personal in the station than usual.  What few civilians were there took notice as well, hurriedly shuffling past with their heads down.  The echoes through the tunnel made a few people sound like a few dozen.

“Someone on the force is coming to get you.  Detective Tsukauchi, I think.  All Might said you know him.”

“Yes,” she sniffled, back on the bench from before.  “We’ve met.  And he’s escorting me home?”

“Safe house.”

“What?”

“We think the villain knows where you live, so we’re taking you to a safe house as a precaution,” Aizawa stated.  “We’re not going to risk any more oversight.”

“…  What about Izuku?”  Aizawa paused at that.  “What.  About.  My son?” she hissed through tears.

“It’s dangerous.  What if it comes back for me and Mom’s there?” Izuku argued in the background.

“You ready to talk?” Aizawa asked away from the phone.

Inko didn’t hear the response, just more shuffling before her son’s voice came through.

“Hey, Mom,” he greeted, a little more put together than before.

“Hey, Baby,” Inko sighed.  “What’s this about it being too dangerous?”

“…  The villain is after me, and I think it followed me home one time.”

That made her swallow.  “And you know this how?”

“Remember the dread I told you about?  I felt it when I went back to the apartment to get some stuff the other day.  It was there the whole time I was there, but it went away once I left.  And, and it didn’t come back until a couple hours ago, right before it attacked,” he rambled.  He almost sounded back to normal the way words fell from his mouth.  If only he had better things to say.

“And why did your teachers find it this time and not the others?”  She didn’t think her son would admit his beloved hero teachers were at fault even if they were, but she wouldn’t lose anything by asking.

“I’m…  Not sure.  But Aoyama spotted it first.  You remember him, right?  The blond guy with a laser quirk?  He’s my next-door neighbor and he saw the villain go in my room.  And h-“

“It was in your room!?” Inko yelled, her voice echoing through the station.  She was too angry and scared to be embarrassed.  “Are you sure you’re okay?”

The following seconds of silence seemed to last hours. 

“…  I really miss you,” he confessed shakily.  In that moment, Izuku was that little boy in the Voight-Kampff chamber again, crying for help from his parents who were too far away to reach him.  A single new tear spilled.

“They’re not still going to make you get empath testing, are they?” she asked.

Away from the phone he asked, “Are they?”

Inko couldn’t help but smile at Aizawa’s detached voice, as he responded.

“Fuck no.”

Katsuki needed a minute.

“So,” All Might sighed, “that’s what we know so far.  Are there any questions?”

Silence.  They hadn’t been stunned to silence in a long time, and never the whole class.  Each one, sat in a huddle around their teacher, stared in horror as if doing anything else was blasphemy.  All except Katsuki, who couldn’t lift his gaze from the floor.  The sparkly bastard ranting and raving in the dead of morning was one thing, but if All Might said it, it had to be true.  A villain went after shitty Deku.  It used some kind of quirk to make him sick.  It has black feathers.  A phantom itch pricked Katsuki’s palms.

Beside him, Kirishima’s hand went up.

“All Might-sensei, what’s going to happen now?” he asked, voice cracking slightly.

The hero cleared his throat.  “Well, I think it goes without saying that classes are canceled today…  We’re not going to keep you locked down here the whole time though.  Nezu contacted heroes outside of the faculty for extra defense, and we’re waiting on them.  Once we have access to the common space, myself and the other teachers will escort you in groups to retrieve personal belongings.”

“Why can’t we just go back to our rooms?” the grape bitch asked.

“The authorities are going to be investigating Young Midoriya’s room.  We want to be sure we aren’t disturbing them.  Plus, we want to make sure no one is left alone vulnerable.”

“Are we to assume we will be confined to the building?” Four-eyes asked too loudly.

“You assume correct, and I wouldn’t be surprised if you spent tomorrow night down here as well.”  All Might slouched as the extras groaned.  “I know, I know it stinks, but this is for your safety.  If it was able to hurt Young Midoriya for so long undetected…”  He swallowed.  “We only have a partial picture of what we’re up against.  And that means you all need to cooperate.  If you see anything, hear anything, feel something out of place, speak up.”

Katsuki bit the inside of his mouth.  They wouldn’t have believed me anyway, he told himself.  And it’s too late now.

They all went back to their sleeping spots after the little Q & A session was over.  But no one looked like they were going to fall back asleep anytime soon.  They didn’t talk much for a while either.  It would have been the perfect set-up to pretend he didn’t exist for a bit if the losers who followed him around hadn’t started blabbing.

“How are you holding up, Sero?” Racoon-eyes asked.

“Not gonna lie, pretty shaken up.”  He licked his lips loudly.  “I just…  I still can’t belief it’s real, ya know?”

“I feel you, man,” Kirishima said.  Katsuki heard him pat the other’s shoulder from where he lay on his futon.  He had his blanket up to his ears.

“Did you ever see anything?” Sparky questioned.

“…  I don’t think so,” Soy-sauce replied after a moment.  “There was that thing with the feather a week or so back.  I talked to Koda and some of the others about it and we figured it was just a crow, but now I’m not so sure…”

Katsuki cringed under his blanket.  He glared at the wall like he could make it explode with a thought.

“What made you guys decide it was a crow?”

“It, it looked different, from the ones back in, in Jakku,” he stammered.

“How?”

“I mean, I didn’t get as good of a look in-person as Mido, but the one I found wasn’t as messy.  Like, have you ever run your fingers the opposite way down a feather?  They were frayed like that.”

Exactly like that.

“And the crow feather wasn’t?”

“No, no, it was just a regular black feather,” he chuckled weakly.  “God, I thought I was being stupid, freaking out like I did.  Part of me feels relieved at all this.  Is that bad?”

Fucking treasure it.

“No, it’s fine, dude,” Kirishima cut in.  “Everybody’s got something that gets to them.  And hey, at least now we know what’s been eating Midoriya.”

And the missing food.  Did anybody bring that up to the teachers?  No, they probably figured that out before any of these extras did.

“And it’s not some terminal illness or something.  At least a villain can be stopped,” the cotton-candy bitch reasoned.

“Yeah!  You can’t punch disease.”  Sparky reclined against the wall near Katsuki’s feet.  His first impulse was to kick him away, but forced himself still.

“I mean, there are some shrinking heroes who can do that.”

“True, true.”

The door buzzed again.  Katsuki rolled over slightly to see Deku reenter with Aizawa.  Hound Dog slipped in behind them.  All Might, who had been waiting right by the door, said a greeting Katsuki couldn’t hear.  He couldn’t hear any of what they said, but from their expressions he figured the nerd’s mother was alright for now.  Deku looked like he’d just stopped crying, which would be normal except for the smile.  All Might knelt down, and rested his hands on the nerd’s shoulders.  He nodded at whatever the old hero said, then walked with him back to his little spot in the far corner.

“Looks like good news, eh?” Soy-sauce stated the obvious.

“If anyone needs to hear some, it’s Mido,” Racoon-eyes added unnecessarily.

“Hopefully the next news is the villain behind bars,” Kirishima said.

“That’d be nice,” Sparky agreed.  “When do you guys think they’ll let us go get our stuff?”

“Can’t be long now, we’ve been down here a while.  Why?  We boring you?”  They all giggled.  Katsuki rolled his eyes.

“You guys are fine, I just wanna grab my pillow and my meds.”

“If you need your meds, I’m sure one of the teachers will take you up if you ask.”

“Well, I don’t exactly need them,” Sparky began hesitantly.  “It’s just a sleep aide.  I figure, if we’re going to be stuck here, I might as well sleep.  But with all this excitement there’s no way I’m going down on my own.”

I would be if you bastards just shut up!

“Heard that.”

“Does it have to be a specific brand?  ‘Cause I managed to grab mine before I left,” Racoon-eyed offered.  She dug through her bag.

Did she just have an emergency bag ready to go?  Didn’t think she was smart enough to think of that.  Maybe I should have something for next time…

“Woah, hey!  This is the same brand as me!  Mina, you’re a life-saver.”

“Me too!  That’s so weird,” Soy-sauce said.

“That’s the kind Recovery Girl gives out, dumbasses,” Katsuki barked, finally sitting up.  He held out his hand for some of the little fruit-snack-looking fucks, but she recoiled back.  He grunted.  “Please.”

“Of course, Blasty,” she mocked, dropping two gummies into his hand with a satisfied smirk.  He swallowed instead of chewed.  The extras winced.

“So, we all went to Recovery Girl for sleep problems?” Sparky prompted the others.  Katsuki was about to lay back down when Soy-sauce piped up.

“I’ve been having these weird nightmares lately…  Actually, it’s just one nightmare.  Over and over…”

Katsuki froze.  So did the others.  Kirishima looked between them confused.

“M-me too,” Sparky said.

“Yeah…” Racoon-eyes mumbled.  She hugged her knees to her chest.  “What…  What were you guys’ about?”

“The USJ,” the two said at the same time, dramatically turning to one another afterwards.

Sparky cleared his throat.  “There was this guy, this villain, there.  He had an electricity quirk too.  He held me hostage after I overused my quirk and threatened to fry me the rest of the way.  In the dream…  He did.”  His knee shivered.  Kirishima draped an arm over his shoulder.

“The black mist warped me to the hand guy…” Soy-sauce briefly explained.  The other two pulled him into their little huddle.  They looked to Katsuki.

“Don’t even try, I ain’t telling,” he growled.  I never want to think about that goddamn slime ever again.

“What about you, Mina?  Was it something about the USJ?” Kirishima asked.

She shook her head slowly, black eyes blown wide.  Her pajama pants looked like they might melt she gripped them so tight.

“I was strapped to a table, i-in a dark room,” she whispered.  “A bright light came on right over me.  I tried to melt the restraints, but they were too thick.  There were these two men talking, but I couldn’t tell what they were saying.  One of them touched my face.  His hand was bigger than my whole face!” she squeaked.  “I, I think he used a quirk on me, because as soon as he touched me everything hurt.  It hurt so much…”  She was starting to tear up.  “After he let go, my wrists, where it was using my quirk, started to sting, like my own acid was burning me…  Then…”

“…  What?” Kirishima asked, leaning forward.  Katsuki held his breath.

She sniffled.  “The other man, he used this thing…  I, I don’t know what it’s called but it, it’s an air-powered gun-thing and I think it’s used to kill livestock and he put it up to my forehead and I didn’t feel it but I heard it and…”  The others surrounded her in a hug while she sobbed.

“Everything alrrright here?” Hound Dog asked gently.  Katsuki hadn’t even noticed him coming over.  He crouched beside the pile.  “What’s up, pups?”

“I think, I think the villain was giving us nightmares with a quirk,” Sparky explained, sounding like he was about to start bawling too.  “About dying…”

“That true?  All of you?”

“Not me,” Kirishima confessed.  Katsuki looked at him briefly without turning his head, then back to the Hound.

“Started after Jakku?”  The group looked to one another briefly before nodding.  Hound Dog growled.  “Starting to have suspicions…”

“Wait, really?  How?” Racoon-face spoke up.

“Few of yourrr classmates came to see me about their own dreams…  Until tonight, thought everyone was feeling the effects of Jakku.”  He combed his mane with his claws.  “See the pattern now…  I apologize for not connecting the dots earlier.”  He bowed his head. 

Katsuki scoffed.  “There were no dots to connect until tonight.”  I turned the only other one to ash.  The hero smiled warmly, stabbing Katsuki through the chest.

“I appreciate yourrr kind words,” he said.  Then to the group, “While I’m here, there anything else you’d like to talk about?  One on one sessions later today, but is there anything pressing you’d like to thrrrow out now?”  Katsuki bit his tongue while the others murmured that they were fine.  The dog hero opened his arms.  “Alright then.  Bring it in.”  The losers all but tackled the man, giggling as they dragged him to the floor.  He laughed with them, patting each of their heads in turn.  Katsuki looked on blankly.

The sleep gummies didn’t work.  Katsuki laid wide awake in his shitty futon for what must have been hours.  He couldn’t stop thinking about the goddamned feather.  It was a stupid little thing.  And it was a week ago.  It shouldn’t, didn’t matter anymore.  It probably wasn’t even the real thing.  Someone was just trying to pull a shitty prank on the nerd.  I did him a favor. 

He sat up and rubbed his eyes.  Everyone else was asleep, or at least looked that way.  The teachers dimmed the lights after people started going down.  It was freezing.  Most of the extras slept in little groups, his own sandwiched against each other in a tight line.  At some point, Soy-sauce face ditched them to be closer to Invisibitch. 

On the other end of the concrete, through the darkness, was Deku.  Shitty, worthless Deku.  Fast fucking asleep.  He was on his back, arms lazily strewn out on either side of him.  The blanket was tucked up to his chin, head slightly dipped to the side.  Katsuki didn’t need to see the nerd’s ratty old All Might toy to know he was snuggling it.  He looked comfortable, despite everything.  Bastard.

Katuski felt eyes on him suddenly.  All Might’s icy blue gaze met his, hovering protectively just above the nerd.  He nodded an acknowledgement.  Aizawa and the Hound weren’t far away, the former sat against the wall with the little brat curled up by his side.  They couldn’t sleep either; maybe they never tried.  All three looked to him, asking the same silent question: do you have anything to say?

He did. He hated that he did.  Katuski knew he’d get nothing but shit.  The damn feather didn’t matter anymore.  But it could have.  It could have been the only thing they had to go on.  Shitty nerd looked ready to curl up and die by the end of the week, and the week began with the feather.  Maybe it wouldn’t have changed anything at all.  But now, Katsuki would never know for sure.

With a quiet growl, he pulled himself up.  He marched quietly around the sleeping extras; they didn’t need to hear this.  The Hound met him in the middle.

“What’s wrong, Young Bakugou?” he asked softly. 

Katsuki clenched and unclenched his fists.  It shouldn’t have been so hard to say.  Why was it so hard?  He crinkled his nose and looked down.

“…  I need to talk to Aizawa and All Might,” he hissed under his breath.

The Hound paused, but didn’t argue.  He nodded once, then gestured to the other teachers to come over.  He and Aizawa swapped places so the brat wouldn’t wake up.  Luckily, they all got the hint that this was something Katsuki didn’t want to talk about with his class in earshot, so they led him out the shelter door.

The security panels over the windows blocked all light from the common space, but the kitchen clock said it was almost noon.  All Might flipped on one of the kitchen lights, then he and Aizawa took chairs opposite Katsuki.  He still couldn’t quite look at them.

“What’s this about, Bakugou?” Aizawa asked, somehow sounding even more tired than usual.  At least All Might made the effort to look concerned.

“I found a feather,” Katsuki spat before he lost his nerve. 

“Wha-  Where?  When?” All Might questioned immediately.

Katsuki swallowed.  “In the bathroom…  A week ago.”

All Might coughed up blood and Katsuki cringed. 

“Was this before or after Midoriya claimed there was a villain?” Aizawa asked, giving him an out.

He didn’t take it.  No matter how much he wanted to, he didn’t take it.  “After.  The morning right after he got back from the hospital after the seizure.”  The following silence was deafening.

“So, what you are telling me is that you found evidence supporting your classmate’s claim that he was under attack, and you kept it to yourself?”  He didn’t need to see his teachers’ reactions to know he was in deep shit.

“You said nothing showed up on security and I thought someone was trying to prank him!” he defended, more on instinct than anything else.  He was already done for.

“Why, why, would that be the conclusion you draw?” All Might breathed.

“Soy-  Sero found a random feather the day before and had a bad reaction, and I thought someone was trying to do that to Deku.”  His eyes stung.  I was trying to help the damn nerd.

“Young Bakugou, look at me,” All Might commanded with cold authority Katsuki wasn’t sure he’d ever heard before.  He had no choice but to comply.  “Do you realize that of all the students here, you are the only one who would even consider hurting Young Midoriya like that.”  Not a question.

“And how do you know that!?”  A tear came loose.

“I think you already know the answer.”  Hearing that from All Might hurt like nothing else.

I do.

“The villain wasn’t just making Midoriya sick from a distance,” Aizawa spoke up.  “It was in his room.  Looming over him as he slept, I saw it.  Any one of these past nights, it could have killed him.  And since we didn’t have any physical evidence, we thought he was having bad dreams like everyone else…  Do you understand the gravity of your actions?”

Katsuki sniffled, head and shoulders stiff.

“Even if you thought it was just a prank, you should have said something so we could investigate,” All Might added.  “What happened to the feather?”

“I,” his throat was going to close up, “I burnt it.  And flushed what was left.”

“Figured as much,” Aizawa said, and sighed.  “I think it goes without saying that we’re both very disappointed in you.  Not only that you withheld information that could have eased your classmate’s suffering, but that you are confessing well after the point when it would have mattered.  When there’s nothing it can do except ease your own conscience.”

All Might closed his eyes beside him.  Katsuki hung his head as he fought back tears.

“I’m sorry,” he choked.

“We’re not who you should be apologizing too,” All Might drove in one last nail.

I know.  I know I know I know.

Izuku slept through most of the morning.  Really slept.  Not the dread-coated half-rest of before.  This was real, uninterrupted hours of peace.  Like the dead.  It had been so long, he’d almost forgotten what it was like to slowly wake up on his own, well-rested and relaxed.  He almost wanted to cry it felt so nice.

Opening his eyes to the concrete ceiling of the shelter surprised him at first, given how comfortable he was.  Quiet too.  Izuku sat up slowly and looked around.  A single overhead light illuminated the other side.  The shelter floor was lined with futons and scattered blankets, in addition to a noticeable increase in personal items.  His own futon was surrounded by extra pillows, blankets, and a few plushies; offerings of support from his classmates.

That was nice of them, he thought idly.  Must have been allowed to go back upstairs after I fell asleep.  Tucked into his side, besides his All Might one, was a new Mini-him.  The design was more refined than the first one; instead of minimalist colored patches, the gloves and shoes actually had patterns reminiscent of the real thing.  This is nice, but I don’t need another one.  Maybe Eri will…

Then he noticed that the other spots were empty.  He shot up to his feet.  Reality smacked him in the face.  A villain attacked him.  They all slept in the shelter for protection.  Now everyone was gone.

“He-hello?  Anyone?” he ventured, tense.  The shelter was still freezing; the cold floor stung his bare feet.

A blanketed mass jostled near the entrance.  Izuku fell into a fighting stance.

“Midorrriya?” Hound Dog called across the room.  He shook the blanket the rest of the way off and stood.  He wore what looked like comfy casual clothes, and his signature muzzle was absent.

Izuku didn’t relax just yet.  “Is this real?” was all he could think to say. 

Hound Dog raised his paws defensively.  “Yes, ruff.  This is rrrreal.  We’re in the shelter under the dorms,” he assured.  He took a few tentative steps forward.  “The others arrre upstairs.  They werrre getting loud.  Errraser and I kicked them out, so you could sleep.”

“Okay…” Izuku mumbled, and lowered his stance.  He sat back down as his teacher moved towards him.  Bandages poked out of his shirt.  He didn’t notice them before.  “It hurt you…”

“Yes.  Shallow.  Worst of everyone,” he said, sitting down across from him.  “Your mother called, ruff.  Made it to safe house.”

“That’s good,” he answered genuinely.  He was going to ask if Hound Dog knew where the safe house was, but he beat him to the punch.

“How are you feeling?” 

A gut punch.  Izuku was real tired of that question.  But he answered as honestly as he could. 

“I’m not sure how I feel…  I’m glad I’m not sick or crazy.  But if there’s a real villain, that means it can do real damage.  To me and others…  I guess I feel guilty for being relieved…”  He looked down at his folded hands.

Hound Dog nodded.  “Normal reaction.  Might be intentional by villain.”

“What do you mean?”

“We couldn’t find evidence of villain.  Gaslighting you by accident.”

“’Gaslighting?’”  He tilted his head to the side.

“Made you question yourrr sanity.  If not by words, actions.  You said what was wrong.  Didn’t believe you.  Made it worrrse.  I am sorry.”  He bowed his head.

“No, it’s not your fault,” he argued, shaking his own head.  “I’m not sure I would have believed me either…”

“Anyone else, you’d be by their side from day one, ruff,” the teacher growled in disagreement. 

Izuku bowed this time, face flushed.  “So, what happens now?”

“Now?  If up to it, go upstairs forrrgh lunch.”

“Lunch?”

“It’s two o’clock.”

“I slept that long?!”  He jumped up again.  “I’ve never slept this late in my life!” he yelled, horrified.

“It’s alright, it’s alrrright.  No harrrm.  You deserve ggrrest,” he dog-like hero laughed.  He stood up as well.  “Nice to hear feeling in yourrr voice again.”

Izuku sobered.  “…  Yeah.  Yeah.  It feels nice, too,” he said, to his teacher and himself.  The dread hadn’t come back, and his nerves were just starting to ease.  It really was nice.

Hound Dog patted his shoulder lightly, a soft look on his face.  Izuku leaned into the touch.  The man smiled, then kneeled down to eye level.  He seemed to study him for a moment, then patted his head.

“Good boy,” Hound Dog concluded.

Upstairs, which was the common area so technically downstairs, was familiarly rowdy.  Izuku wasn’t sure if he was quite up to joining them again, but the noise wasn’t as grating as it had been under the dread.  His classmates, however, had other plans.  The second Hound Dog stepped away from the stairwell, no longer blocking Izuku from view, a sharp gasp rang to his ears.  Aoyama grabbed his hands before he could even react. 

“Oh dear, how are you, mon ami?  Are you hurt?  What was that horrible creature?” he asked desperately. 

Then the others noticed.  And he was swamped.

“Midoriya!” at least half the class yelled.  Everyone dropped what they were doing to jump towards him.

“Are you alright?”

“What happened?”

“Was there really a villain?”

“Space!  Don’t crowd!” Hound Dog barked before the mob could choke him.

The class paused, worry etched into their faces.  Most were still in pajamas.  No one looked injured, so hopefully the villain only went after him.

Uraraka broke the line first. 

“It always has to be you, huh?” she whimpered as she threw her arms around him.

Izuku yelped.  Half because she hit his stitches, half because holy heck a girl was hugging him.  Off to the side, Aoyama’s previous concern gave way to a wry expression.  Tsuyu dragged him into the hug.  Todoroki walked behind and just leaned into Izuku’s side.  Mineta wormed his way passed the others’ legs to hug his.  Iida followed, stiffly engulfing all of them in his embrace.  They were all so, so gentle.  Safe.  I’m safe.  I’m okay.  Finally, he melted into Uraraka’s arms and let a few stray tears fall.

“Thanks, guys,” he whispered.

Between a few mumbled ‘sorrys’ and ‘we were so worrieds’, Hound Dog spoke up again.

“Need anything from yourrroom?”

“My room?  I thought the police were investigating it?” Izuku asked, pulling away from the huddle a little.

“They’re done.  Still want you down herrre though,” he explained.

Izuku looked around at his friends.  They weren’t going anywhere.  He smiled at them, before following Hound Dog to the stairs.

An officer Izuku didn’t recognize guarded his door.  He greeted them with a nod, before opening the door for them.  His teacher insisted on stepping in first.  After a quick sniff, he let Izuku step in.  It was a little weird to need permission to go into his own room.  But it was technically a crime scene.  Or it was.  His room looked just like normal, before the villain attack.  All the papers the wind blew around were back in place, untouched.  The broken glass was gone, but Aoyama’s bloodstain remained.  He’d never heard of investigators fixing a crime scene after they were done with it.

“They fixed the window?” Izuku questioned. 

“Fixed itself,” Hound Dog remarked bluntly.

“What!?”

“A couple hours ago, the glass floated itself back into place,” the officer elaborated.  “No signs it was ever broken.”

Just like the claw marks…  Vindication collided with terror.  A quirk that undoes damage, and there’s a delay of a few hours…  Is it automatic or did the villain have to come back to fix it?  Can it fix anything or is there some sort of limit?  There was nothing in the Jakku reports about the victims’ wounds closing, but it may not have come back for them.  Why would it?  But why fix my window?  If it’s passive, maybe it doesn’t work on organic material.  Tugging at his lip, Izuku paced beside his bed.  Either way, that makes it much harder to track, especially if the quirk also includes erasing evidence from security cameras…

A snort came from behind him.  Hound Dog leaned against his door frame, arms crossed with a big toothy grin.

“Won’t lie, missed that,” he teased.  Izuku blushed, but smiled back.

He didn’t need much from his room; mostly just a change of clothes and his tooth brush.  He grabbed his laptop and Superman notes too, figuring his clearer head would bring out a better version of his project.  Discretely, he grabbed a quirk analysis notebook too.  The villain one.  He had no reason to hide it, but for some reason felt like he should.  The only thing he couldn’t find was Mini-him.

“E-excuse me, Sir,” he asked the stationed officer, embarrassed as he was.  “Did you happen to see if the investigators did something with a little green rabbit plush?”

“I think they took some of your stuff for evidence.  You can ask for it back once the investigation is over.”

After the villain is caught, that meant.  Hound Dog patted his shoulder, and the two went back down.

Izuku detected the distinct smell of katsudon from the kitchen.  He licked his lips without thinking.  The class’s best cooks, sans Kaachan, bustled around the kitchen working on what must have been enough food for the whole class to have seconds.  Sato seasoned a massive bowl of rice.  Tsuyu chopped greens like an expert.  A tiny part of him was disappointed when he saw the meat Yaoyorozu was cutting was chicken instead of pork, but he supposed beggars couldn’t be choosers.  It’s better than the hospital, at least.  They probably wouldn’t have fed me at all if they planned to do more surgeries.

At the edge of the commotion, Aoyama cut cheese into little shapes.  He still had his pajamas on, but his expression looked more serious than he did during hero simulations. 

“Would you like some help?” Izuku offered with a smile.

Aoyama looked up startled, but returned the smile, if slightly sad. 

“No, merci.  This is a one-man job.”  His foot was still wrapped in gauze.

“How’s your foot?”

“Oh, I’m just fine,” he assured.

Izuku sat across from him and watched his friend slowly drag a short knife through a block.  Off to the side, little cheese flowers and stars formed rows on a napkin.  He counted about four different types based on the colors, but knowing Aoyama, there were probably more.

“What’s all this for?”

“You.”  He said it like it answered everything, but quickly realized it didn’t.  “I, I was going to leave you a bento of these last night, but…  But I left the box open when we retreated to the shelter and they went stale…”

“Last night,” Izuku repeated to himself.  Much of it was still a blur.  He remembered emotions more than events.  But he remembered Aoyama.  “You saw it, didn’t you?”

He stopped cutting.  “…  Yes.”  He pursed his lips and put the knife down.  “I’m sorry I didn’t believe you sooner…”

“No, no, it’s okay…” Izuku said.  A new thought dawned on him.  “I, I think you saved me.”  Aoyama looked taken aback.  “I…  I wasn’t doing well, last night especially.  I was, was just about ready to gi-give up,” he confessed through forming tears.  “And even then, I don’t know what the villain would have down to me if it kept going.  At least, at least now, if any more happens…  The teachers believe me now, thanks to you.”

“It was only by chance,” he countered, his own tears sparkling.  “I couldn’t sleep so I decided to make some, some dumb cheese flowers.  It was only there for a moment; any other and I wouldn’t have seen it.  I didn’t do anything!”

“Bu-but you did!” he exclaimed.  “You did!  Sure, part of it was chance, but you made the decision to do something for me!  And you called Aizawa!  Who knows what would have happened if you didn’t!  Chance set the path, but you, you kept going,” he sniffled.

Aoyama did too.  Tears ran tracks through his makeup.  He jumped up and threw his arms around Izuku.  He flinched at first, before wrapping his own arms around the thinner boy.

“It co-could have ki-killed you,” he sobbed.  It still might, went unsaid.

“It’s okay.  I’m okay now, thanks to you.”  The rest of the class pretended to ignore them.  But they gave the two space.  So did Hound Dog, but he looked ready to intervene should one of them need it.  Once Aoyama calmed down, Izuku looked him in the eyes, and said with all the sincerity he could pack into a few words: “Thank you.”

That almost undid him again.  But Aoyama kept it together long enough to push the shaped cheese into Izuku’s hands, before fleeing into the bathroom to fix his makeup.  Hound Dog gave Izuku a thumbs up before following to check on him.

Nobody bothered Izuku for details after that.  His classmates gave him a short greeting when he passed, but no more.  He wondered if Aizawa or the other teachers gave them a gag order.  They all milled about the space, seemingly not doing much of anything.  Izuku joined the group on the couches watching TV.  There was an unspoken tension there.  They had the day off for a reason.

Kaachan was there too.  There was a bigger space that usual between him and his friends.  Dark circles framed his eyes.  They made eye contact, but just like the prior night, he turned away.  Just slower this time.

Aoyama rejoined him with a fresh coat of glitter soon after.  He refused to partake in any of the cheese he made for him.  Had Izuku more of a sense of humor, he might have made a crack about them being poisoned.  But he left him again once the katsudon was done, insisting he’d get some for his friend. 

Alone on the couch, Izuku gave himself a moment to just feel.  And he felt nothing.  No anxiety, no dread, nothing to distract him from the moment.  It wasn’t a super interesting moment, but he’d take it.  The TV played some innocuous filler show about actors who played heroes in shows and movies.  Izuku preferred the real thing.

“Hey, Hound Dog-sensei?” he asked the man.  Said man perked up in response.  “Where are the other teachers?”

“Meeting soon.  Waiting for babysitterrrs,” he gruffed.

“Babysi-“

The front door buzzed.

“Should be them.  I’ll get it!” he howled to a few people who were going for the door.

Izuku craned his neck towards the door.  Everyone else by the TV did the same.  The creeping tension was broken by two playful cheers.

“Locking on with sparkling eyes!”

“Stingingly cute and catty!”

“The Wild Wild Pussycats!” both Mandalay and Pixiebob chimed.  Their signature pose looked a little off with just the two of them in casual clothing, but no less enthusiastic.

Hound Dog growled, annoyed.  Pixiebob stuck her tongue out at him.

“So.”  She turned back to the students and clapped her hands together.  “How are our favorite kittens?”

The class erupted into cheers of their own.  They rushed the cats as they had done to Izuku earlier.  He was content to wait his turn.  Greetings were made, hugs were given, and questions were asked.

“Nezu called us early this morning.  They’re having an all-hands-on-deck meeting, so they brought in a bunch of heroes to look after you students,” Mandalay explained.

“Tiger and Ragdoll are with 1-B.  Maybe if the staffers give the clear, we can all hang out together later,” Pixiebob elaborated.

“Heading out.  Stay inside.  Keep safe,” Hound Dog instructed on-cue.

“Will do, doggo,” she said with a mock salute.  He just pointed and growled while he backed out the door.  She hissed back playfully.  Mandalay elbowed her.  “What?  It’s a joke.  You know, dogs vs. cats?  Opposites attract.”  She elbowed back.

“Does he know that?”

She shrugged.  Everyone else laughed.  Except Izuku, who just exhaled through his nose a bit.

While Pixiebob went to join the chaos in the kitchen, Mandalay sat beside him, a respectful distance between.

“Hey, kitten.  How are you feeling?” she asked quietly.

Here we go again.  “Okay, I think…  How much did they tell you?”

“Not too much.  At first, Nezu just said a villain came for someone in the class and they needed backup.  But…”  She cleared her throat.  “When, when we expressed some concern about the short notice, he gave us enough to put two and two together,” she confessed, fiddling with an earring.

“…  Oh.”  So I’m leverage now?  But would they have come without it?

“I don’t need details, unless you want to talk,” she assured.

He sighed.  “I, I’m sorry, Mandalay, but I’ve had to reexplain this a lot lately…”

“Oh, no.  It’s fine, it’s fine…”

Noise from the kitchen drowned the awkward silence.  Pixiebob skipped over.

“Hey, Shino, you want chicken or pork in your katsudon?”  Then she aggressively ruffled Izuku’s hair.  “Hey there, Green.  Hungry?”

“Yes, thank you,” he half-chuckled.  “Wait, they do have pork!?”

“Chicken, please,” she answered.  The other hero returned to the kitchen, and quiet resumed.  Aoyama found a new spot among the crowd when he realized his friend was talking.  The others went back to watching the TV, but Izuku didn’t really pay attention.

“How’s Kota?” he changed the subject.

Mandalay perked up.  “Oh, he’s been great, actually.  Grades are up.  I think he and a couple friends are starting a hero club.  Which reminds me…”  She dug her phone out of her purse.  The photo she displayed was a paper filled to the brim with pencil drawings.  All of people, heroes probably, in dynamic poses.  They were rough overall, but better than Izuku had been at that age.

“Wow!  Kota made these?  They’re great,” he said.

“Mhm.  Notice anything familiar?” she smirked.

Izuku looked closer.  All the drawings were of one person.  With rabbit ears.  His eyes went wide.

“Is, is that me?!”

Mandalay laughed lightly.  “He’s been obsessed with your Jakku showcase.  Watches it all the time.  And pauses it to use as a reference.”

“Really?”  The unpleasant memory of the showcase warred in his mind with feeling honored by Kota.

“Yeah.”  Then she leaned in and whispered.  “Don’t tell him I showed you though.”

“Why not?”

“I quote: ‘He can’t see it yet, it’s not good enough.  I have to practice more,’’” she jeered with a spot-on impression. 

“Spoken like a true artist,” Pixiebob interjected behind them, mouth full of food.

Izuku flinched a little.  Mandalay shot her a look.  The other woman shrugged again and sat on the other side of the couch.  She passed Izuku his bowl, and all was forgiven.  It felt like ages since he’d had a full meal.  And his favorite, no less.  The warm pork in his mouth seemed to melt a lingering chill he hadn’t even realized was there.  The rice from the night before was sand compared to this.  He smiled until it hurt.

“Thank you so much for making this!” he mumbled dreamily.  The rest of the class followed close behind with their own food.  A few nodded to Izuku’s thanks.

“We cannot eat our meals in the living area!” Iida chastised.  “The designated eating area is not a few short steps away.  We should be on our best behavior in the presence of such esteemed guests!”

“Lay off, square,” Pixiebob said, putting her feet up on the table and stuffing her face full of food for emphasis.

“Oh my god,” Mandalay exclaimed into her hands.  Iida sputtered, before sitting with his own food at the nearest table.  The remaining class laughed.  “Okay that’s enough,” she said.  “It’s alright, Iida.  I’ll sit with you.”  She weaved through the scattered students to do so.

“Thank you, ma’am,” he replied, looking genuinely touched.

Just when Izuku felt like he might finally be able to relax, the universe fired a warning shot.

“We interrupt this program to bring you a special bulletin,” the TV announcer declared.  All eyes and ears turned to the screen.  “An official level B villain warning has been issued for the greater Mustafu area.  This comes after a joint statement from the police and U.A. High School.”

Enraptured silence fell over the group.  Izuku’s heart crawled into his mouth. 

“According to them, a villain was able to infiltrate one of the student dorms at around two this morning, and initial evidence suggests that it wasn’t the first time.”

“Why’d they have to add that part?  Media’s been riding the school’s ass hard enough as-is,” someone whispered. 

“No students received any lasting injuries-“

‘Lasting,’ Izuku thought cynically.

“-but pro heroes and U.A. staffers Eraserhead and Hound Dog suffered minor injuries that were treated on sight.”

“Aizawa too?”

“He didn’t seem hurt last night.”

“The villain in question is still at large and has yet to be identified.  And though it hasn’t been confirmed, it had traits in common with the human experiments known as ‘nomu’ used by the League of Villains.  The primary being multiple quirks.”

“Woah, woah, no one said it was a nomu!” Kaminari exclaimed.

“Shush.”

“Shut up.”

“So far, the identified quirks are: four large extra limbs with a large claw at the end of two of them, bullet deflection, teleportation, and the induction of severe anxiety and pain onto a victim from a distance.  It has also been confirmed to cause sensory hallucinations and seizures.”

Izuku could feel the sideways looks from his peers.

“Unconfirmed, but possible quirks include erasing physical evidence of itself and disabling electronics, notably those relating to surveillance.”

“How the hell are they supposed to find that?”

“How are they supposed to fight it…”

“Due to this, no pictures yet exist of the villain, but the following is a composite illustration based on accounts by the heroes who encountered it directly.”

Everyone besides Izuku gasped.  Pixiebob reached over and grabbed his shirt without tearing away from the screen.  He barely noticed.  Because there it was.  A dark, screaming figure with glowing eyes, claw-like finger nails, and a thin body dwarfed by four giant black feathered wings, two tipped with spikes.

It’s real.

His friends stole horrified glances at him.  Uraraka and Tsuyu looked ready to cry.  Hagakure already was.  Sero had his arm around her but stared into the distance.  Kaachan looked ready to kill.  Mandalay walked back to the couch at some point, given her hand on his shoulder.  In the far corner, Aoyama sat facing a wall, curled in on himself.

Izuku looked across the gallery of emotions.  They were all different, but had the same conclusion: that thing is still out there.  It terrorized him undetected for so long.  Who’s to say it couldn’t fall back into the routine?  Sure, the others knew it was real now, but would it be enough? 

Either way, he was tired of all this.  It was only after him.  He wasn’t going to be a passive victim anymore.  For the first time in nearly a month, Izuku swallowed his fear and stood tall. 

“It’s alright,” he announced clearly.  “The heroes will stop it.”

And if not, I will.

Chapter Text

Toshinori hadn’t slept since the emergency sirens went off.  None of the teachers had.  Even after outside pros came to cover for them, no one could bring themselves to let their guard down.  Slumped postures and drooped eyes marked each person at the table, except Nezu, ever the beacon of unsettling calm.  Those who had been in the villain’s presence added fidgety hands to the ensemble.  Up on the large wall screen, Racing Stripes, Cheat-A, Pathfinder, and Jakku’s local police chief appeared over video-chat.  Their well-rested eyes didn’t dare look directly into the camera.  All that was left before they could discuss their next move was Hound Dog’s presence.

Just when I think I’m getting used to staying on the sidelines, something like this happens, Toshinori thought.  He eyed the police sketch of the villain on the table before him with prejudice he once saved for All for One.  The thought of that creature laying its hands on his successor had long since boiled away the ice of fear.  I could have taken it.  No way it was faster than me, even at the end.  I could have blown away the trees and rain so there’d be nothing to stop me from chasing it down and snapping those foul wings clean off.  Toshinori shook his head and rubbed his temples.  What am I thinking?  The others did the best they could.  Who knows how I would have fared against the dread quirk.  Besides, dismemberment is well over the line of excessive force.  How could I even consider that?

Midoriya’s little bunny rabbit plush the likeness of his first costume sat in the middle of the table in a plastic bag next to the other evidence.  There wasn’t a scratch on it, despite the nearby photos showing otherwise.  The eyes and stomach were slashed open, and it had been stabbed in the back.  Just like the men from Jakku that initially scared the boy.

Oh, yes.  That’s why, he hissed internally.  It hurt, it’s been hurting, tormenting my boy.

Hound Dog’s late entrance interrupted Toshinori’s fuming, though he didn’t look much better.  A bit of cloth wrapped tightly around his snout in place of his broken muzzle.  His eyes were blown wide and glared straight forward at nothing.  It was clear from a distance that his muscles were rigid.  He pulled out his chair with more force than necessary. 

Naomasa cleared his throat.  “Well, now that we’re all here, we can begin.  Would you like to start with your finding, Ho-“

“AAAARRRGHGRTHGN!” Hound Dog exploded, shredding his makeshift mask.  “AAARGGHHH!!!  AAARGHLL OVERRRRRGH!!!  GGRRRELL ARRRGHLL OVERRRRGH!!!  GGGRAAAHHT CLOOOSE!!!”  He dug his claws into the table.

The rest flinched.

Nezu calmly stepped over the table and deposited a chew toy in front of Hound Dog.  The hero used it to muffle his rage.

“He said that the villain had Midoriya’s scent on him last night.  That’s how close it got,” Ectoplasm translated solemnly. 

Quiet gasps filled the room.

Ripping off the wings isn’t that excessive…

“Now then,” Nezu said, taking back control of the room.  “Let’s discuss the rest of what we know so we can make plans going forward.”  He gestured to the Jakku heroes.  “My friends, would you please start?”

“Ahem, yes sir,” Racing Stripes began hesitantly.  “Four weeks ago, on a Thursday night, Watahashi Hibiki ran a food stand at the town’s founding festival, just as he had been doing for the past twenty-some years.  He left the site at around 11:30 pm, as did most of the other vendors, and arrived home fifteen minutes later.  Sometime between 2:00 am and 2:30 am, he woke up and frantically drove ten minutes to his family business: The Shake Diner.  Now, according to Pathfinder, here,” -he gestured to him- “two people appeared in the diner, at a time after Watahashi left, but before he arrived.  One of the people was Watahashi Takuyu, his son.  He was stabbed in the back with a large circular object.  Said object traveled through his back, up into his neck and dislocated his brain stem, killing him instantly.  It’s possible he was dead on arrival.  The elder Watahashi arrived soon after and was also killed.  He bled to death via lacerations on his face and torso.  Afterwards, the suspect remained in the building for another four hours, before running out the back door into the woods, where it disappeared.  Only trace was a handful of black feathers.  One hour later, at 7:06 am, the crime scene was discovered by a couple of U.A. students on a field trip.  Midoriya Izuku was one of those students.”

Toshinori shuddered.  The memory of his student afterward, clearly shaken but trying to hide it, replayed.  I should have never left his side.  Oh, as if that would have changed anything.  I hope he’s alright now with just his friends and the Pussycats.  I didn’t want to leave him at all, but I needed to cool my head after speaking with Young Bakugou.  I should check on him after this…

“How do you know all that?  I thought there wasn’t any security footage?” Yamada questioned.

“My quirk allows me to see the paths taken by living things up to a day after they had been there,” Pathfinder explained.  “I can see path chronologies relative to one another.  However, I can only give rough estimates on exact times.  Thus, how we know that Watahashi-san left his home before his son and the suspect appeared in the diner, but not the exact time.”

“You keep saying ‘appear?’” Snipe pointed out.

“This is literal.  According to my quirk, the younger Watahashi and the suspect at no point entered the diner from the outside; their trails began there.”

“You said your quirk can only see back a day, yeah?” Maijima asked.  “Is it possible they were there before your cut-off point?”

“I was among the group that found the scene initially, meaning I was able to see paths from the entirety of the previous day’s business hours.  Neither the younger Watahashi or the suspect were among them.”

“You can recognize the paths of individual people?” 

“That is correct.  Paths become more distinct the more I get to know someone.  I have an advantage in small towns.”

“So, I assume you didn’t recognize the subject,” Naomasa prompted.

Pathfinder hesitated.  “It seemed familiar, but I couldn’t place it.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Toshinori finally piped up.  He beat Aizawa beside him to the punch.

“It means that while I may have seen the path before, it didn’t belong to anyone I associate with regularly.”  He stat up a little straighter.  “I’ve spent a good portion of the last few weeks looking to the paths of locals for a match, but so far have found nothing.”

“No matches from conventional investigations either,” the police chief quickly added.

“Okay, okay, back to the issue.  Tell us more about the whole ‘appear/disappear’ thing,” Snipe continued.

“Right.  The younger Watahashi was registered as having a teleportation quirk.  Its distance limit was unknown, but he was only ever able to transport himself and small objects on his person, such as clothes and personal electronics.  That, coupled with the fact that the suspect’s path breaks off entirely in the woods behind the diner, has led us to believe that the suspect had some sort of teleportation quirk as well,” he finished with a nod.

The U.A. heroes exchanged glances.

“What do you think?  League?” Ishiyama asked the room.

“It’s not much to connect to them,” Yamada bemoaned.  “We’ve got possibly more than one quirk, and teleportation.”

“It would certainly be outside of their usual fair,” the detective agreed.  “No one in the Watahashi family has any of the markers League victims usually have.  No ties to heroes or law enforcement.  No villains either.  They were well-liked enough, but I’d hardly call them pillars that hold up the community.  Even then, why try and sow discord in such an isolated place?  A quirk as rare as long-distance teleportation would certainly draw their eye, but if they wanted parts for nomu they would have kidnapped them.  It’s possible they were collateral, but for what?”

“It didn’t even go near the register…”  Cheat-A mumbled.

“We can’t rule out that this is a lone wolf,” the chief commented.

“Where was it doing in there for four hours?” Aizawa asked that time, eyes painfully bloodshot.

“Sitting in the pantry, eating,” she answered with a disgusted sigh.

“The whole time?”  Toshinori found that hard to believe.

“Yes.  Security cameras didn’t pick up anything, but his path remained in the larder for quite a while.  I can’t see specific actions, but given the nearly depleted supply, we can assume as much,” Pathfinder supplied.

“Cameras really got nothing?”

“Unfortunately.  They were on the entire time, but footage showed an empty building at night.  It was like they were paused, until the bodies just cut in,” the Jakku police chief, Takamaki said.  He had been quiet until that moment.

“’Cut in?’”

“Like a cut in a movie.  One frame, the kitchen is spotless, the next it’s a blood bath.”  Cheat-A hit some buttons and opened another window on the screen to show them.

They ran through the footage a few times in silence.  It could have passed for a cheap horror movie jump scare.  But it was real.  The time codes in the corners jumped a few minutes on the cut.  Different cameras showed different times.  No one said anything for a bit.

“Same thing happened with our cameras,” Maijima broke the silence.  “Quirk sensors too.  Time skips a couple minutes.  But look at this.”  He pushed some buttons of his own.  A map of where Toshinori assumed his colleagues fought the villain appeared on screen.  “He’s a model I threw together of last night’s quirk sensor data.” 

Dots representing the teachers came into frame.  One split into more, must be Ectoplasm, and ran into the forested area.  Then some of them vanished.  Same thing happened to Aizawa.  They popped in and out of sight until Yamada and Snipe showed up.  Bright yellow color suddenly covered the scene, representing the voice hero’s power traveling across the space.  But a single, large, near perfect circle of the map remained untouched.  A circle that moved.

Surprised realization swept the meeting.

“Some sort of localized suppressor,” Maijima declared.  “All the cameras and sensors were still on, they just stopped collecting data.  A counter device like an EMP would have shut them off completely, which is why I told the police I think it’s a quirk.”

“Might be something that erases evidence,” Kan suggested.  “Midoriya said the villain damaged his room, but there was nothing.  Plus, this little stuffy was full of holes eight hours ago.”  He held up the bag for the Jakku team to see.  “Nobody’s touched it since putting it in the bag, now it’s good as new, right?”

Toshinori and Aizawa nodded.

“Guess we’ll add that to the list,” Yamada sighed.

“And then-” Maijima skipped the model to the end.  There was Ishiyama entering the circle, along with the others.  They all disappeared, then reappeared.  “-it’s gone.”

The group paused a moment to take it all in.

“Here’s what I don’t understand,” Kayama finally joined the discussion.  “How did the Watahashi-san know to come to the diner before the threat appeared?”

Racing Stripes and Cheat-A looked to Pathfinder to explain.

“According to his path in the house, he woke up suddenly, then immediately got in his car and drove straight there.  Phone history indicates that no calls or texts had been made between the two in several days.”

“We believe it may have something to do with Watahashi-san’s quirk.  He called it ‘Business Sense’ and always seemed to know the right choice to make when it came to his restaurant,” Cheat-A elaborated. 

It’s almost too perfect, Toshinori couldn’t help but think.

“An on-site murder would be bad for business…” Snipe mused while looking into his folded hands.  “’Specially if it was your own son…  Did anything else happen after the scene was discovered?”

“We found a few disconnected paths of the suspect closer to the mountains over the following days.”  Pathfinder pulled up a map of the Jakku valley area with what looked like squiggles scattered around the edge.  “It matched the path from the diner, plus it being the suspect is supported by the occasional presence of black feathers…”

“Hopefully you guys have better luck than us.  Everything we found was too contaminated to give us anything viable for a DNA test,” Chief Takamaki remarked.  “Damn thing’s filthy.”

“Negative.”  Aizawa’s cool voice masked layers upon layers of frustration.  “Rained pretty hard last night.  Mud everywhere.”

“Right…” half the Jakku team sighed.

“Anything else notable about the paths?” Nezu prompted.

“They appeared to move erratically.  Never stayed in one place for too long.  We believe they may have killed a few deer, but that’s it.”

“Deer?”  Kayama sounded hurt for some reason.

“Yes.  Their paths crossed at the same time and we found some corpses.  First one or two were stabbed and left out, but everything after that had no physical wounds.  Like they just fell over and died,” Racing Stripes described.

“We had our local vet run some tests, and we think most of them died due to stress-induced heart attacks,” Cheat-A continued.

“Prey animals like them are susceptible to such things.  These deer haven’t had natural predators in several generations, so a creature like the sketch you’ve shown us chasing them up and down the mountain was probably too much for them,” Pathfinder concluded.

“…  You said most?” Kayama prompted.

“Hmm?  Oh, yes,” Pathfinder flipped through some papers.  “Two of them died of brain damage, likely seizure-induced.”

Kayama folded into herself a bit.  Nezu gripped his coffee cup a little tighter.  Toshinori wasn’t much better.

It was practicing its quirk…  He tasted metal.

“Did the suspect ever go into town?” Nezu asked coldly.

“From what we gathered: once.”  Racing Stripes pointed to a small circle on the map.  “The morning before U.A. left, the suspect circled the building the students were lodged in.  It chased the bus over rooftops for a few blocks, then vanished.  We, we didn’t discover it had been there until after the school was long gone.  Same as before, cameras showed nothing.”

“What!?” Toshinori, Aizawa, and Kayama all exclaimed.

“All the reports said it never came to town!” she hissed.

“Why wasn’t U.A. notified?” Ectoplasm accused.

“I was,” Nezu interjected.  All heads snapped towards him.  “Though I did not receive it until days after the first years arrived back.  At the time, I felt it would be best to withhold this information until the affected students were in a more stable state of mind.  This was and is a failing on my part.  I apologize.”  The principal bowed to his faculty.  No one was sure how to respond, Toshinori included.

“Alright then,” he conceded.  “And I understand activity slowed down after we left, yes?”

“Yes.  Paths appeared sporadically for two more days after U.A. left, growing less frequent each time until they ceased completely.”

“Or you couldn’t find them,” Yamada grumbled.  Kayama elbowed him.

“Anything else of note?”

“We haven’t had a homicide case in a few years…” Racing Stripes began.  “People were near a panic.  While they were still here, we got a bunch of calls accusing U.A. students of being ‘shady characters.’  People reported any little thing that seemed out of place.  Mostly food.”

“Student began complaining on the school forum about stolen and missing food about a week after the end of the trip.  This was also around the time Midoriya’s ailments began,” Nezu added.  “I believed Midoriya’s villain being the same as that in Jakku was dubious until this connection was brought to my attention.”

The term ‘Midoriya’s villain’ sent a chill down Toshinori’s spine.  They needed to find a new name for this thing.

“Okay, so we have the connection.  Now why is it targeting Midoriya?” Ishiyama steered the discussion.

“He was the one to discover the bodies…” Kayama commented weakly. 

“You were there, too,” Toshinori countered.  His heart went out to her, really it did.  The scene at the diner well outside of her usual wheelhouse.  Anyone would be disturbed by it.  And to be the first to have to calm a group of children, aspiring heroes or otherwise, after that encounter?  He did not envy her position.  But he continued.  “As well as Young Sero and Young Hagakure, and you I believe, Pathfinder.  How would it know that Young Midoriya was the first inside?  And then, why choose to only go after the first?”  Why him?

“I agree.  It left by the time we got there, and we found no evidence that it ever returned to the scene of the initial crime,” Pathfinder concluded.

“Well, considering it has multiple quirks, our best guess is a nomu,” Naomasa jumped in.

“It didn’t have an exposed brain, though.”

“And no Nomu has shown this level of patience before.  It’s been hovering over Midoriya for about a month now.”

“And it was well aware how it was affecting Midoriya,” Toshinori explained.  “The cuts on the plush were near exactly the same as those of the first two victims, which Midoriya found and was deeply disturbed by.”

The Jakku team nodded.  Pathfinder looked away slightly, briefly opening his mouth before closing it right away.

“Hey, are there any leads at all as to why it went after the Watahashi’s?  Where did they teleport in from?” Yamada asked.

Racing Stripes and Cheat-A shared a look.  Pathfinder rubbed his face exasperatedly.

“This is, well, this is where things take a weird turn,” the chief supplied.

“As if it wasn’t already…”

“Okay, weird how?”

“So, the younger Watahashi was out of town a couple days.  He mentioned to some friends beforehand that he was going to visit another friend in Osaka.  He’ll remain anonymous for the time being.  He and Takuyu-kun were buddies in high school, but he left for college and stayed out there after graduating.  We tried to get a statement from him but…” the chief trailed off.

“He claimed he hasn’t spoken to Takuyu-kun in two years,” Racing Stripes finished.

“Wha…  What?”  Kan tilted his head.

“Our investigation has so far confirmed it.  There’s no evidence of the two meeting, or even speaking over the phone or social media or whatever.  The locals only assumed they were still in friendly communication because Takuyu-kun claimed they were.”  The chief’s expression implied that he was one of them.

“…  Okay, that is weird,” Kayama admitted.

“Did they, did they have a falling out?” Toshinori asked.

“Kind of.  According to him, Takuyu-kun always seemed upset that he didn’t move back to town, but was never confrontational about it.  They just drifted apart.  Didn’t talk as often until they weren’t talking at all.  Normal post-college stuff,” Racing Stripes said.

“Then why claim he went to visit him so often?”

“Clearly he was off somewhere else.”

“But why say something so easily disprovable?”

“We don’t know,” Pathfinder cut off.  “That investigation is still ongoing, and we have more pressing matters.”

“Right!” Nezu cheered.  “Now for our part.  Let’s go over the quirks we saw last night, hmm?”

Aizawa stood up.  “Well, the big ones are the spiked wings.  It used them to stab and slash at us.  I think it’s safe to say we have your murder weapon.”  The Jakku team nodded sternly.  He continued.  “All four wings appeared to have more joints than a standard limb given the range of motion, and they were strong enough to be used for running on.”

“Faster too,” Yamada commented.

“Then there’s the disabling of our security.  We already discussed that so I’m going to move on.  Third quirk we saw: bullet deflection.  What should have been direct hits bounced off into the ground.  At least one did hit, so it’s not passive.”

That shouldn’t be too much of an issue, since most heroes who aren’t Snipe don’t use firearms, Toshinori pondered.

“I’m going to interject my two cents here: I believe that the deflection may be a form of telekinesis.  No less than three times did it redirect my capture weapon.”

“Seconded.  It threw a couple of my clones back after barely touching them.”

“Third.  It was also pulling trees down,” Snipe added.  “And I think it made some stuff float right before it vamoosed.”

Scratch that last thought…

“And then, there’s the dread…”

The U.A. staff deflated.  Hound Dog growled under his breath.

“The…  Dread?” Cheat-A ventured.

Nezu stood up this time.  “Beginning a week after the class returned from Jakku, Midoriya began experiencing a form of intense anxiety that worsened steadily over the following weeks.  The child is no stranger to nervousness, and described what he was feeling as significantly more intense than what he was used to.  He dubbed it ‘Dread.’”  He let the information linger a moment.  “In addition, Midoriya experienced repeated pain spasms concentrated in his back, that also worsened over time.  These attacks typically lasted a few seconds at a time, but occurred throughout the day and would leave him incapacitated afterward.  One of them caused him to become injured during a training exercise and at least one other triggered a seizure.  They progressed to the point where Midoriya was unable to sleep or eat, and repeated examinations revealed no clear cause.”

The Jakku team was taken aback.  Cheat-A covered her mouth while her husband laid a hand on her shoulder.  The chief whispered something the microphone couldn’t pick up.  Even Pathfinder’s previous mask of professionalism cracked.

Toshinori was right there with them.  He’d watched it all happen, but hearing Nezu repeat it all back, devoid of emotion, put the last month into scale.  Naomasa shot him a shocked look, to which he nodded.  It’s all true.

“And last night, the villain hit us with it.  Myself, Present Mic, Snipe, Ectoplasm, and Cementoss, five pros with at least a decade of training and experience each, were on the ground in seconds.”

“And the villain used that time to teleport away…” Yamada finished off.

The air in the room was heavy with silence.

Naomasa broke it.  “S-so, we have: spiked wings, security canceling and/or fading evidence, telekinesis, teleportation, and dread.  These are our confirmed quirks so far yes?”

Murmurs of agreement.

“Did anyone see anything else that may have been another quirk?” he asked the group.

Those who had fought the villain looked into the distance, racking their minds for anything.

“It didn’t seem to be inhibited whatsoever by the dark or rain.  Perhaps heightened perception,” Ectoplasm tossed out.

Naomasa wrote that down, as did a few others.

“It might be immune to my erasure…” Aizawa admitted.

Even Nezu twitched at that.

“I had my quirk on it a bunch of times.  Didn’t make a difference.”

“I-I have a counterpoint,” Yamada began, but hesitated.  “There was this one moment, where, when I yelled at it, it was just a yell…  And…  And its eyes glowed like, yours…”

Toshinori sputtered blood for the first time since the meeting began.  He just barely heard his colleagues’ shocked gasps over his own coughing.

“Not possible.”

“Okay, I know it sounds cra-“

“Not.  Possible.”  Aizawa gritted his teeth.  “I still have my quirk and no one besides me has anything like it.”

“No family or…”

“No.  My quirk is a mutation and I do not have any bastards running around if that’s what you’re going to suggest.  Yes, I’m sure.”  The look he gave dared anyone to question him.

Any other circumstances and that might have been funny.

“What, what if it has some sort of copy quirk, like Monoma?” Kan suggested.

“Then why not replicate anyone else’s quirk?” Kayama countered.

“Maybe it needed proximity, and Eraser fought close-combat,” said Ectoplasm.

“Midoriya got it, too,” Hound Dog spoke up.  The rest turned to him.

“That’s right!  The night of the seizure, Midoriya said that the villain came into his room.  Its eyes glowed red and he couldn’t activate his quirk.”  Kayama looked to Aizawa.  “It had the quirk before.”

“What about blood, er something?  You’ve fought the League a bunch a times, maybe they got enough of you to put some of it in that monster,” Snipe prompted.

“Dude, phrasing.”

“That’s not how it works,” Toshinori argued.  At least, I don’t think it is…

“How what works?  What are you talking about?” Cheat-A finally got a word in.

“The nomus,” Toshinori began.  “They were made by the villain I fought in Kamino.  He has the power to steal quirks and redistribute them at will.”  The Jakku team was learning all sorts of pleasant facts today.  With how much of Toshinori’s existence was shaped by All for One, it was easy to forget that most of the information surrounding him wasn’t common knowledge.

“So, he needs the whole person, is what you’re implying?”

“Yes.”

“And that person loses their quirk?”

“Yes?”

“I…  I’ll be right back,” Racing Stripes said as he stood up and left the room.  Cheat-A shrugged apologetically.

“…  He is still in prison, correct?”  Ishiyama turned to Naomasa.

“First thing I checked when the word ‘nomu’ came up.”  Then to the group.  “But it is plausible they could have gotten a copy of a quirk.  They do have that Twice character in their ranks.”

“But I’ve never fought him directly,” Aizawa said.

“Nomus aren’t just unfortunate souls stacked with quirks.  The neural load is too much for most people to function under.  There’s a lot of genetic modification involved…  Maybe they found a way to sequence quirks out of just DNA samples.”  Naomasa shrugged like he didn’t believe his own words.

“Actually, that might not be too farfetched…” Toshinori began, voiced already wavering.  “Early in my career, I helped bring down a number of All for One’s allies.  Many of them had operations out of hospitals and medical research facilities.  I always assumed that the nomus were the inventions of whatever leftover madmen he dragged back underground with him, but…”

“He reestablished some of his hold,” Aizawa sighed.

“Or I missed some…” he grumbled.

“And if that’s the case, maybe the villain was trying to intentionally drive Midoriya-kun into the hospital,” Cheat-A suggested.

Toshinori flinched towards Naomasa, who nodded subtly.  They’d have to look into the doctors that examined Young Midoriya.  Perhaps they were keeping the real results to themselves.  He didn’t want to believe it either.  But the word ‘impossible’ had been expunged from Toshinori’s vocabulary the day he learned of One for All.  And the next revelation would only reinforce that.

Racing Stripes returned in a frantic rush.  “You said the villain could deflect bullets, right?”  He held up a flyer to the camera.  It was for a raffle raising money for a young man’s medical expenses.  He looked familiar.  “Kiren.  High school third year.  Two days after the seminar his quirk, Redirect, just, just stopped working,” he breathed.

Silence. 

Toshinori swallowed hard.  “The man with the cloning quirk was with the league before Kamino…”

“And the diner,” Kayama breathed.  “Watahashi could only teleport with things on his person.  Does having a spear through his back count?”

“And the villain took his quirk as he died…” Pathfinder more exhaled than spoke.

“I…  I think we’re going to need to up the villain warning level,” Naomasa stammered.

“What about Midoriya?”  He suddenly felt out of breath.

Hound Dog, who had been quietly murmuring into his chew toy until that moment, spoke up.  “Good boy.  Firrrst Prrriorrrity.”

“The students are on campus lock down,” Nezu assured.  “They are not to leave the dorms unless supervised and are not to leave campus at all.  They will also be sleeping in the dorm shelters until further notice.”

“We also had suspicions that the villain may go after his mother,” Naomasa added.  “She has been safely transported to a safe house on the other side of down, under the protection of some of the best heroes and law enforcement available.”

Toshinori wasn’t sure he was satisfied with the measures.  But he didn’t have much in the way of suggestions.  He only wished he could take a more active role in ending his successor’s nightmare.  And it could very likely become everyone else’s nightmare if it wasn’t stopped.

“What’s this about his mother?” Cheat-A questioned, clearly still shaken.

“Midoriya believed the villain followed him home at one point and now knows where he lives,” Nezu clarified.  “Local pros are patrolling the area as we speak.”

Chuck was bored.  Top of his class from one of Japan’s most prominent hero schools, and he was stuck on a bench in front of a run-down apartment.  He was a pro hero, dammit.  They got there after lunch and the sun was starting to set.  He had better things to do than babysit some sniveling kid’s apartment for two days.  He rolled three marbles around his fingers, pushing them so hard together they squeaked.  Oh, no.  It’s a U.A. student’s apartment.  Because that makes it better.  How lucky he was to be in the second-hand presence of such-

“Dude, chill.”  Dental Demolition, who had by-far the worst hero name Chuck had ever encountered, sat on the bench beside him, loudly munching on chips.  “Don’t know why you’re tho worked up.  Thith ain’t that different from normal patrolth.”  His speech was horribly muffled by a mouth full of food and extra teeth. 

“I just think it’s a little ridiculous that valuable time and resources are being spent to guard one empty apartment,” he sneered. 

“Ath oppothed to what?  We’re thidekickth, man.  If we weren’t thitting here, we’d jutht be thircling a couple blockth waiting for thomething to happen.”  His costume was awful too; everything that wasn’t clashing pastels was tooth-themed.  He looked like the entire reject pile for a dentist mascot.

“And if Shiketsu students were the ones being threatened, there wouldn’t even be this much.”

Demo groaned.  “That’th what thith ith about?  A high thchool rivalry?  Yiketh, you’re thtill on that and you graduated what?  Five?  Thix yearth ago?  Move on.”

“Four years, and I’m tired of the hero community treating U.A. students like the only school that matters.  If their little golden children are so special, why can’t they defend themselves?  That’s what we did,” Chuck grumbled.  He got up and paced behind the bench.

“Yeah, but did you read the briefing?  They think the villain could be a nomu.  Ya know, thothe crathy brain monsterth, like the thing Endeavor fought a month or tho back?  He barely thurvived!  And you want to throw a kid at that?”

“I’m not suggesting we put children on the front lines,” he snapped, stamping his legs together.  “I’m saying that society at large seems to give U.A. a free pass.  One of my classmates likes a tweet made by someone who later became a villain: huge scandal.  Villains infiltrate U.A. multiple times in less than a year: let’s get the grunts to be their personal house sitters!”

“I, don’t think thothe thingth are on the thame le-“

“And it will be worse in the long run.  Those first years are going to graduate used to being coddled.  They’ll expect everyone else to keep the villains away from them while they get all the glory as U.A. alum-“

“Chuck, wait!”

“What?”

“It’th 304, right?”  He nodded up towards the apartment, otherwise stiff.  Chuck followed his gaze with as little movement as possible.  In the window, something poked through the blinds.  Then it was gone.

“…  Yes.”

Both heroes calmly walked towards the stairs as to not raise further suspicion.  The apartment was supposed to be empty.  The kid was cozy back at the U.A. dorms and his parents were with the cops.  They had been there the past two afternoons, and no one so much as walked passed the door.  But teleportation had been listed as a potential quirk.  Seizure inducement, too.  Chuck swallowed.

“Dental Demolithion to Outfield.  Potenthial movement thpotted inthide target locathion.  How thould we protheed?” he radioed to the pro hero they worked under.

“This is Outfield.  You said you saw movement inside the actual apartment?”

“Yes,” Chuck responded.  “We saw a hand poking through the blinds in the window.  We think we were being watched.  Do we have permission to engage?”

“Wait, wait!  Are we thure it ithn’t thomeone who liveth there?”

“Only two people are registered as residents.  Both are accounted for elsewhere.  You have permission to enter and investigate.  Backup stands at the ready for confirmation.  Do not engage unless in self-defense.”

The sidekicks looked to one another, then went forward.  Dental Demolition tested the door.  Locked.  He double checked that they had the right number.  It was, and they had a spare key. 

Meanwhile, Chuck took out a couple more marbles from the pouch on his belt.  His quirk gave him complete control over the speed and impact force of any object he threw.  Perfect for taking down a villain in an enclosed space without causing too much damage.  His associate’s quirk was less precise.  He could pull out his teeth and turn them into bombs.  Thus, he would play good cop should a confrontation ensue. 

The door opened with a slight creak.  The apartment was quiet otherwise.  The men entered cautiously.  Stale, musty air was the first clue something was off.  A well-kept apartment emptied for only a week and a half wouldn’t smell like a moldy locker room.  Did the occupants leave food out to rot while they were away?  But they found nothing of the sort upon further investigation.  All the food in the fridge was fresh and there wasn’t anything that could stink up the place in the trash.  Only thing there was some crumpled-up paper.

A weak cough came from down the hall.  Dental Demolition was already on his way.  Chuck rolled the marbles in his palm, itching to throw them.  His associate put one hand on the handle, and counted down from three with the fingers of his other.

Three…

Two…

One…

He opened the door and Chuck readied his throwing arm.  A small, dark figure sat on the floor of the master bedroom, looking up at them.  It was surrounded by empty plates, and a half-eaten bowl of dry cereal in its lap.  The hands holding it had thin, pale fingers with long, dirty nails.  Small spots of various shapes and colors dotted what little skin they could see.  The figure itself wore a ratty black hoodie with a fluffy, light green bathrobe draped over it.  Both covered what appeared to be a hunchback.  Its faded orange-brown shoes were covered in duct tape.  Under the hood, its long black hair was wet and covered half its face, which was also pale and thin.  Large, sunken eyes evaluated them, expressionless.  Loose flesh dangled from its chin and neck.  It looked like a short, grubby old man.  Dental Demolition gestured for Chuck to back off.

“Hey there, who are you?  What are you doing here?” Demo kneeled down closer to the man’s level.  He didn’t show much of a reaction.

Chuck relaxed his stance and rolled his eyes.  Is this their villain?  Just some squatter?  He looks like he’s about to keel over.  He subtly sent the backup signal over the communicators.  It was almost subconscious; they wouldn’t need anyone else to handle this.  And yet, something cold squirmed in Chuck’s chest.  Why am I suddenly so nervous?  It’s just some skinny punk!

“It’th alright.  I’m Dental Demolithion, and this is my partner, Chuck.  We’re heroeth, you can tru-“

“…  Go-o -way,” the man coughed out.  His voice was off.  Not just sick, but like a poor-quality audio recording.  It made the hairs on Chuck’s arms stand on end.

“Hey, hey, don’t be like that.  We’re here to help,” Demo tried to assure.  The man scooted away until he was against the wall.  He kneeled to his level.  “Thome other heroeth told uth thith plathe would be empty.  Can you pleathe tell uth what you’re doing here?”

He’s not a toddler.  Chuck rolled his eyes again, even though his face felt heavy.

“…  Wa-aiti-ing…” he wheezed after a moment. 

“Waiting?  For who?”

“Wai-ti-ting.”  He reeled back further until he was standing, glassy grey eye jumping between the two.  From a distance it was clear he was a head and a half shorter than Chuck.

“You just said that,” Chuck said.

“You aren’t thuposed to be here.  We ha-“

“N-o!” he snapped, voice even more distorted.  A tiny puff of steam wheezed past its crooked teeth.

Chuck straightened up.  “Look, guy.  Suck it up and sto-“

“NO!”  His voice boomed from every direction, including from within their own bodies.  Both heroes froze.  The remnants of the voice throbbed behind Chuck’s eyes.

“H-hey, there’th no need for that!” Demo tried to soothe.  He stepped back, over a few black feathers that were strewn among the discarded plates.

Chuck raised his shaking fist full of marbles slowly.  He needed to end this quick.  If he could just get it in the eyes…

The man’s eye snapped towards him.  They flashed from grey to red.  Chuck couldn’t make his body move.  Ice choked his lungs.  The hunch shifted, clicking and crackling.  Building pain clawed at his back.  He lifted his foot.

“NO!”

Chapter Text

Izuku ran a finger over the spot on his neck where the stitches had been just an hour ago.  The skin was still raised slightly.  All three spots were probably going to scar.  But the pain was gone.  He sighed contently and rolled the costume collar back up. 

For the first time in far too long, he summoned One for All.  Sparks ignited his veins.  He’d almost forgotten how it good it felt.  It was like he could stand a little taller, breathe a little deeper, be a little more whole.  He pictured the gentle warmth as the previous holders welcoming him back into their embrace.  Welcoming him home. 

He leapt.  Concrete pillars rushed by.  Half the arena fell away in a single bound.  At the end of his ark, his feet hit their target at a perfect angle to push off into the next one.  And the next.  And the next.  It came so naturally he barely had to think.  Recovery Girl insisted he take it easy, at least for the first day.  But how could he resist?  Each jump brought a new flip or flair.  There was no direction or goal, just the pure joy of feeling like himself again.  Beneath his mouth guard, Izuku smiled so big it hurt.

“Woooh!”

“Go Deku!”

His friends cheered him on from bellow.  Uraraka, Kirishima, and Sero jumped up and down at the edge of the arena with their fists in the air.  All Might stood nearby, arms crossed and a proud smile brightening up his face.  Izuku saluted them mid-air.

The buzzer sounded far too soon.

“And that’s time!” Cementoss called.

Izuku backflipped off one last pillar before skidding to a stop near his friends.  They ran to him.

“He has been unleashed!” Sero yelled with a jump.

“Dude, that was wicked!” Kirishima play-punched Izuku’s shoulder; he didn’t even wince.  “You sure it’s only been a few days since you were sick?”

“You were amazing Deku!”  Uraraka rolled on her feet in front of him.  He blushed.

“Thanks, guys,” he replied bashfully.  He couldn’t quite believe it either.  Amazing what some sleep and a few good meals could do. 

“So, who’s up next?” Cementoss asked.

“I am!  Hey!” Kirishima and Sero said at the same time.  While they ran off to work that out, All Might replaced them at his side.

“Didn’t Recovery Girl just tell you to take it easy?” he scolded lightly, messing with Izuku’s hair.

“Yeah, but, I guess I got caught up in the moment.  Sorry,” Izuku apologized. 

“I’m sure you are.”  Then he leaned down and whispered, “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

Uraraka giggled and Izuku just grinned.

“I’d never thought the All Might would be such a bad influence,” she jokingly chided.  He ruffled her hair too.

“I’ll admit, it is nice to see you back in the saddle.”  His smile was infectious.

“Thank you.  I don’t think I’m back to one hundred percent yet, but I feel like I’m getting there,” he said, adjusting his gloves.  Though the dread was gone, he was still anxious for its return.

All Might looked like he meant to ask further, but he was cut off.

“Hey, All Might, are you watching?” Sero yelled from his perch at the top of a pillar.  Kirishima was taped up at the base.

“Oh, yes, I’m watching!”  He walked away to get a better view, leaving Izuku and Uraraka by themselves with a little wave.

“That really was incredible,” she murmured.

“Thanks again,” he mumbled back.

“Have you heard anything from your mom yet?”

“Not since this morning.  Detective Tsukauchi said that they were going to move her to a new safe house and can’t talk while in transit.”  He deflated a little.  Mom was only able to give him the bare bones of the information during their short phone call.  How long the move would take wasn’t part of it.

“Oh, I’m sorry.”  She fidgeted like she wanted to say more.

“Hey, it’s alright,” he assured, to both her and himself. 

They sat back down to watch Sero’s run on the pillars.  Izuku retrieved his notebook to record his friend’s technique.  He recognized some Spider-Man poses.  There wasn’t much he didn’t already have down, so he instead touched up the illustrations. 

Uraraka rested her head on his shoulder.  He inhaled sharply.  He wasn’t sure how he felt about her being there.  One the one hand, here’s one of his best friends probably trying to comfort him.  On the other, she was touching him.  Despite his previous run on the pillars, he wasn’t completely back to feeling like himself, so he was even more conflicted than usual about how he felt.  I could just tell her that.  It’s Uraraka, she’ll understand.  But I don’t want her to feel bad when she’s trying to help. 

It mainly served to remind him how much he could use a hug from Mom.  A lot could happen in the few hours since they last spoke.  And if something did go wrong, he had no idea where she was.  I hope she’s okay… 

If Uraraka weren’t so close and watching, he could get out his phone and new notebook to do some research on the villain.  The school released new information the day before and people claimed sightings on local forums as early as that morning.  As much as he wished his interest was for curiosity’s sake, he needed as much information as possible if he was going to stand a chance in a real fight.  Hopefully, it wouldn’t come to that.  It wasn’t that he didn’t trust the pros, it was just that knowing his luck, it was in Izuku’s best interest to treat a confrontation as inevitable.  Especially if it was still fixated on him.  He wasn’t interested in revenge though, he just wanted it to stop hurting people.  It didn’t matter in the end who brought it down.  What matters is that once it’s dealt with, things can go back to normal; I can be with Mom.

He caught Uraraka looking up at him a couple times.  Both immediately turned away.  Unsure of what else to do, he fished another pencil out of his bag and offered it to her.  She stared at it for a few moments before she took it with a sigh.  She filled out the margins of the notebook page with little space doodles in silence.

He caught All Might looking at them too.  When he had Izuku’s attention, he tilted his head to the side over and over.  He put his arm out too.  Izuku didn’t understand; he shrugged and shook his head.  All Might sighed and looked to the ceiling, exasperated.

Aizawa appeared while Kirishima was getting ready for his turn.  Sero had taken Uraraka’s position as an invitation to occupy Izuku’s other shoulder, much to the shorter boy’s embarrassment. 

“Midoriya.  Nezu wants to see you.  Something about the investigation,” his teacher said, an underlying tightness to his voice.

His friends released him without prompting.  Uraraka twitched her fingers nervously, while Sero just smiled sympathetically.

“If they don’t let you out before we’re done here, we’ll probably be in the weight room,” he said.

“Okay, I’ll see you there,” Izuku replied, tucking his notebook away before trotting to the locker room door.

“Don’t say anything unless they give you a lawyer!” Uraraka called after him.

“The police are probably here to ask him a few more questions, nothing to worry about,” All Might reassured with a chuckle.  Aizawa didn’t look at them.

After changing back into his uniform, Izuku left the Training Dreamland with into the chilly afternoon air.  He hid his shivering hands in his pockets.  All Might turned to him with a smirk.

“I know, I know, you told me to bring a jacket,” he said before the man could tell him off.  “Weather report said it was supposed to warm up later in the day.”

All Might chuckled, his breath visible.  “Well, now you know.  These old bones are pretty reliable.” 

“You’re not that old,” Izuku argued.  His mentor elbowed his shoulder with a smile.  He moved to take his scarf off.  “I’m fine, it’s not that far.”

“Suit yourself,” he said, flipping it over his shoulder, mockingly. 

It really wasn’t that cold, though the chill still threw Izuku off.  There was a moment where he thought it may have been the dread.  But it was no where near harsh enough.  That he had enough leeway to even reason beyond how much it hurt should have tipped him off.  He didn’t see any shadows at the corners of his vision either.  He looked around none the less.

All Might put a hand on his shoulder and stopped walking.

“It’s nothing,” Izuku said.

“Are you sure?”

“If the villain was here, I’d know,” he assured, resuming their pace.  He’d been dealing with that villain’s quirk for a month; the least he could do was tell it apart from run-of-the-mill anxiety and cold.  Which reminded him: I really need to find something else to call it besides ‘the villain.’  It’s not specific enough.  The news and police have been calling it ‘the alleged nomu,’ and that’s a mouthful.  With everything it’s done, to me and others, it needs something to distinguish it…

“Good afternoon, Young Midoriya.  How was your first training session back?” Principal Nezu greeted once they reached the side entrance of the main building.

“It was good, thank you.  A little short if I’m being honest,” he replied.

“That is wonderful to hear.  Hopefully, our guests can get what they came for in a timely manner, so you can get back to it.”  To Izuku, he spoke to them as friendly as he always did, but something seemed to put All Might on edge. 

“The police are just doing a follow-up interview, right?” Izuku asked cautiously. 

“…  Not quite.”

Two men in suits and sunglasses flanked them as soon as they stepped off the elevator.  All Might lightly pushed Izuku along, the arm at his back forming a symbolic barrier between him and the new strangers.  No one said anything.

Similar men stood outside their destination: a room labeled “Questioning.”  Izuku’s pulse was racing by the time they got there.  He’d never been to this part of the school before; never seen these sorts of people any of the other times he had spoken with the police.  Nerves shot down any questions he had.  The presence of Detective Tsukauchi and Recovery Girl inside did nothing to ease those nerves.  The latter was arguing with a couple people in doctor’s coats; something about improper protocol. 

The room was divided in two by glass.  The side with the entrance was occupied by a desk up to the glass and a few chairs.  The other, a medical exam table.  Izuku swallowed.

“Afternoon everyone,” Detective Tsukauchi greeted tightly, nodding to each of them in turn.

All Might spoke Izuku’s thoughts.  “What’s all this?  Who are these people?”  His hand hadn’t left his back.

“They’re from the regional branch of the All for One investigation,” he explained, then bit his lip.  “These are the folks who have been processing the nomus.”  His eyes darted to Izuku for a moment, who started sweating.

“So why are they here?”

“There’s been a break in the case.  I can’t say much beyond that, but they want to run their own medical examination on Midoriya.”

All Might gripped his student’s shoulders tight.  Tsukauchi shot them both an apologetic look.

“Were the half dozen examinations this passed month not enough?” he growled.

“That’s what I said,” Recovery Girl exclaimed as she entered their little huddle.  “But they claim to need more objectivity.  Humph.”  Then to Izuku, “I’m sorry, Dearie.  I know this is a lot.”

I’m still trying to process it all.

“I’m sorry as well, Young Midoriya, but this is technically a compromise,” Principal Nezu spoke up and gestured towards the glass.  “A few of them came by earlier seeking to collect you to their own facility overnight, but couldn’t give me a rough estimate for how long they would be holding you nor what exactly they were going to do.  Government affiliated or not, I won’t allow any of my students to be removed from campus without clear cause, especially given the current circumstances.  I was able to convince them to carry out their examination here, but with the caveat that it would be done right away, thus the short notice.  I am truly sorry for making this decision for you.”  He bowed to his shocked student.

Izuku suppressed a scowl.  I’m leverage once again.

“Does this not seem legal to anyone else?” All Might asked in a hushed tone.

“It skirts the line, but it is.  They have all the proper paperwork and probable cause,” Tsukauchi explained, though he sounded just as irritated.

“That we haven’t been told.”

“I’m“ -he, sighed- “I’m not allowed to tell you with Midoriya present.”

“What?” Izuku finally said.  All Might pulled him a little closer.  Why can’t they tell me?  Do they think I’m involved somehow…?  “Am I a suspect?”

Tsukauchi closed his eyes, and Izuku despaired.

“Oh, Dearie,” Recovery Girl said and patted his arm.  “We can’t be in the room with you, but we’re going to be right outside.  The second they try and cross a line, they’re out.”

But where is the line?

The other side of the glass, which was actually a two-way mirror, was colder even before Izuku had to strip down to his boxers.  The temperature overpowered any attempt to get his nervous shivers under control. 

So, he instead focused on his thoughts.  No doubt at least one of the three people examining him had some kind of lie-detector quirk.  All investigation teams worth their salt did.  But there were a lot of possibilities as to how it could work.  Tsukauchi’s quirk was voice-based; he could pick up even the tiniest inflection of untruth.  A character in a procedural Mom liked used prolonged eye contact.  A telepath would be illegal in this scenario; true mindreading infringed on individual right to privacy.  But there was also the chance that these people worked outside that.

“All right, kiddo.  Let’s get started,” spoke the ringleader, the only one not wearing a doctor’s coat.  He had red hair and a punchable face.  As the others circled around, he sat in a low stool so Izuku had to look down at him from the table.

Giving me the high ground.  False submission, he thought.  This was one of the few times worst-case-scenario analysis was going to come in handy, so he let it run wild.

The other two of the examiners stood on either side of him.  Both women.  No obvious quirk indicators.  One was already writing something in a chart.  The other taped a couple wires to his chest.  Then the first one took his hand.  Lots of people had been doing that lately, so he could tell she didn’t do it often.  Not comforting.  Too firm.  Some sort of quirk that monitored vital signs?  Maybe she’s the lie detector.  Or something to do with restraint. 

But the ringleader was his real opponent.  Izuku wasn’t sure what he was after, but he seemed all too eager to get it.  Something about the way his mouth twitched as he watched the others take Izuku’s blood pressure and temperature, like he was holding back a smile. 

The rational part of Izuku knew he hadn’t done anything wrong.  But his nerves weren’t giving him any confidence.  There was, however, the issue of One for All.  He couldn’t reveal it, but if he lied, he’d look suspicious.  For all he knew, that could be all these people needed to move on to whatever came next.  Tsukauchi and All Might had been training him on how to get around that.  In theory, it was simple: lie by omission.  But this was going to be the first time he would have to do it for real.

“Can you state your name for the record, please?” the ringleader asked after pressing a button on a recording device.

“Midoriya Izuku.  I’m sixteen, and I’m a student in the hero course at U.A.”  One of the examiners shined a light in his eyes.

“Jumping ahead, are we?” the leader fake-chuckled. 

Questions during the exam.  Trying to throw me off kilter.  “I had an exam like this less than a week ago.”  His attempt at disinterest was ruined by the shaking in his voice.

“Oh yeah?  What for?”

You know.  “The pain spasms in my back.  They found a chemical imbalance in my brain but didn’t believe it was from a villain.”  The examiner forced his mouth open and turned his head to get a better look.  You could have asked…  Then she stuck her thumb in.  Izuku held as still as he could while she ran it along his gums and teeth.  She yanked it back just as fast.  The soapy taste of whatever she sanitized with lingered.  What was that?  He found himself shrinking away from her gaze.

The ringleader didn’t acknowledge any of it.  “And why do you think that was?”

“The, they said the symptoms were similar to empathetic fixation, which is more common than being hurt by someone else’s quirk,” he replied, trying to get his thoughts back in order.  The hard questions could start any second.  The examiner walked around to his back.

“Are these scars from that examination?” she asked.  She ran a finger and thumb over each in turn.  Izuku shivered with each.

“Yes.  I got the stitches out a few hours ago.”  This isn’t like any medical exam I’ve had, he thought as the examiner continued to harshly rub his back.  That’s because they’re trying to intimidate me.  Maybe it just has something to do with their quirks?  Maybe they were chosen specifically for that. 

“Empathetic fixation tends to be a little kid thing though, yeah?  Why would they think that about you?”

“I got my real quirk late.”  ‘Real’ wasn’t a good word choice.  They’re gonna get me on that.  Behind him, the examiner opened what sounded like a little plastic case.  He couldn’t see what she took out of it in the mirror.

“Did you now?  Why is that?”

Here it is.  “My body wasn’t physically strong enough to handle the kickback.”  Not a lie.  Not the truth.  Something pricked the back of his neck.  He flinched.  The one holding his hand tightened her grip and pulled him down.  “What was that?”

“It’s part of the exam, ignore it.”  Then he smiled so fake it was sickening.  “So, you only have one quirk then?”

“Yes.”  Another prick, this time right on the scar between his shoulder blades.  He gasped.

“What does your quirk do?”

“Stockpiling,” he recited.  “I can tap into a pool of energy that enhances my speed and strength.”  A pick at his lower back, which he involuntarily arched in response.  Each examiner gripped one of his shoulders to force back in place.

“And that’s what it’s called?  ‘Stockpile?’”

That was a tough one…  Please be a good enough comeback.  “I didn’t name it.”  Technically true.  I didn’t come up with ‘One for All’ or ‘Stockpile.’  Prick over his left shoulder blade.  Why?

“And, by how much are you enhanced?”

“Around eight percent of what I’m capable of right now.”  Izuku didn’t mean to make it sound like a threat.  Right shoulder blade.  Stop.

“How do you know that?”

“I don’t.  It’s a rough estimate by my teachers.”  She pricked him right below his left ribs.  He jerked away on instinct and again they forced him back.  Please stop.

“Which teachers?”  He raised an eyebrow.

“All Might and Gran Torino.  All Might’s quirk is, was, similar, and, and Gran Torino helped train him,” he said in anticipation of the next line of questioning.  He caved again after the prick in the right ribs.  The examiners didn’t remove their hands that time, though.  They were cold.

“Who’s Gran Torino?”  His cold tone broke into genuine curiosity.

“An older hero.  He used to teach here, back when All Might was a student.”  Left side, right above his hip.  He shivered harder.  Why are you doing this to me?

“And how did they come to those numbers?”

“I don’t know.”  I really don’t.  Left side of his neck.  It hit on an inhale, causing him to cough.

The ringleader waited for him to compose himself.  “In theory, what could you do with one hundred percent?”

Izuku saw the examiner holding a tiny needle to the right side of his neck out of the corner of his eye. 

“Stuff similar to All Might, I think.”  She waited until he was done speaking to prick him.  She must be the lie detector.  Only pricks me after I respond.  Or a red herring to throw me off.

“Like?”

“Move, move really fast, lift heavy things, punch really hard,” he droned, the hit of a threat creeping back in.  What kind of question i-  She suddenly pricked him on top of his left shoulder.  It felt deeper than before.

“Do you like your quirk?”

Huh?  “Y-yeah…”  His eyes were damp before the prick to his other shoulder.

“Would you trade it for anything else?”

“No.”  I don’t need to think on that one.  One for All is my responsibility.  All Might chose me.  This is my path.  His mantra was interrupted by a prick to the left jaw.  It made his teeth tingle.

“If you absolutely had to pick another quirk, what would you choose?”

He had to think for that one.  “Um…  I, I guess telekinesis, being able to pull things towards me, like, like my Mom.”  It was a genuine answer, but it came out choppy due to the fear of the next prick.  Mom’s words echoed afterwards: ‘This is a test designed to provoke an emotional response.’

“Your mom, huh?  What about your dad?  What can he do?”

Izuku frowned.  “He breathes fire.”  Behind his jaw, under his left ear.  He swore he heard the needle go in.

“And you don’t want a cool quirk like that?”

“No.  It has a lot of side effects.”  Under the right ear.  He sniffled.  Also true, technically.  Mom said that Dad has asthma, so even brief usage of his quirk can really hurt him.  That’s why he gave up on being a hero. 

“Worse than broken bones?”

So they did read my file.  “Mom’s doesn’t have any.”  Under the jaw.  He almost bit his tongue.

“Weird you don’t have either of their quirks.  Are you adopted?”

They would know that.  He’s trying to trick me, give me an out.  Adoption is more common than mutations.  But it’s a lie outright.

“No.  My quirk is a mutation.  No one else in my family has anything like it.”  Izuku took a gamble with the word ‘mutation.’  One for All was technically a mutation of two quirks fused together.  It just wasn’t his originally.  The examiner pricked the other underside of his jaw. 

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I-I look like my Mom,” he squeaked.  She jumped down to his left thigh for the next prick.

“But not your dad?”  Izuku’s nose twitched.  “Think there might be…  Something else, going on there?”

How dare you.  “No, I don’t think so.”  His next words were like acid before he even opened his mouth, but for the sake of the argument, he needed to say them.  “But if there is, I wouldn’t know.”  The following prick deepened his scowl.  He braced himself.  If the ringleader was going to ask him if someone else gave him his quirk, it would be now.

“Is All Might a good teacher?”  Or not.

Another genuine answer.  “I, I think so.  He’s not always the best when it comes to technique, b-but he gives good advice for being a good hero and, and life in general.” 

“Has he ever hurt you?”

“Huh- No.  Not outside of training.”  The needle came down on his left cheek.  Weak answer.  They’ll want a follow-up.

“How did he hurt you?”

“He didn’t mean to,” Izuku rushed out.  “It was a final exam meant to push our limits.  He was holding back and wearing suppressors, so he thought we could handle it.  I got hit in the back, but he wasn’t aiming for me.  He didn’t mean it.”  Too desperate, he thought while the needle stabbed his right cheek.  The pain made it seem like it went all the way through to his mouth.  I sound too desperate, like I’m hiding something.

“Have you ever wanted to hurt him back?”

“Wha-What?” he exclaimed before he could think.  Why would I want to hurt All Might?  “No…”  He tried to shake his head, but the second examiner held it in place.  No prick yet.

“Has anyone ever told you to hurt him or anyone else?”

“No!”  The next prick was to his left temple.  Pain shot down into his eye, forcing the first tears out.  Stop it! he wanted to scream.

“Did All for One give you your quirk?”

Izuku froze.  It was another question he’d practiced with Tsukauchi and All Might.  Of course, someone formerly quirkless suddenly having a quirk with All for One around would look suspicious.  One for All technically created it, but he didn’t give it to Izuku.  The examiner’s hand hovered next to his right temple.  The needle glinted slightly in the light.  He squinted and winced away in anticipation.

“…  No.  He didn’t give it to me.”  Pain from the prick combined with warm tears made him think he was bleeding for a moment.  They held his hands down so he couldn’t wipe his face.

“Have you ever killed anyone?”  The ringleader leaned forward, into Izuku’s space. 

“No!” he spat, pushing his face into the man’s.  He reeled back so far, he nearly fell out of his chair.  Why would I ever do that?  Why would anyone think that I did?  The examiners jerked Izuku back and forced him still.  He tensed, fearful of where the next prick would be.  But it didn’t come yet.

The ringleader stood over him.  “Midoriya Izuku, have you ever killed a person?”

“No,” he whispered.  A prick to the top of his head sent a shockwave of pain down the rest of his body.  He tried and failed not to flinch.  For a moment, the examiners held him in place while he breathed hard.

“…  He’s clean,” the one with the needle declared.  The other promptly released him.

Izuku folded in on himself.  He clutched the still-hurting spot on his head while he whimpered.  The examiners packed up their gear around him like he wasn’t there.  One forced him to sit back up so she could remove the wires.

Relief didn’t hit until the cell door opened.

“I believe you’re finished.  Please leave now, thank you,” Principal Nezu chimed.  All Might rushed past him, throwing a blanket and his arm around Izuku’s shoulders.  Recovery Girl followed.

“Sorry about all that.  Just doing our jobs,” the ringleader said to him, in an unrecognizably pleasant voice. 

“Hmm.  Leave now.”  His smile was so forced it looked like it hurt. 

Through his tears, Izuku peered up slightly to meet the gaze of the ringleader before he left.  He could just make out the frustration on his face.

Fuck you, I win.

In a fresh change of clothes, Izuku was lead to Principal Nezu’s office.  He had warm tea waiting.

“Here you are, young man,” the mouse man said as he passed the teacup.  “All Might passed on your preferences.  I do hope I made it to your satisfaction.”

“Thank you, sir,” Izuku mumbled, throat still raw from almost crying.  The tea helped.  “It’s really good, thank you.”

“My pleasure.  Do let me know if you’d like anything else.  I have extra sugar and honey if you’d like more, and I can phone Lunch Rush to bring you some food.”  He placed the sugar and honey jars on the coffee table in front of him.

“No, thank you.  I’m okay,” he replied.  He sat on a soft fabric couch opposite the principal’s desk.  All Might and the detective sat on either side of him, the former eyeing him up and down for signs of injury.  “I’m alright, now,” he whispered to him.

“Wonderful,” Nezu said with a clap, before returning to his desk chair.  It was bare except for a small stack of files.  Out the window behind him, it already dark out.  The others were probably back at the dorms.  “I must say, we are all very proud of you for holding your own in there.  You proved your innocence while also refraining from revealing One for All.  I imagine even All Might would have struggled in that scenario.  Well done.”

“He’s right, you know,” All Might said lowly.  Izuku smiled into his tea.

“It’s true,” Tsukauchi agreed.  “I knew the truth and I still couldn’t pick up on your deflections.  You did great!”

“That reminds me,” the principal said.  “Detective, do you have the contact information of whoever is overseeing the little operation we just witnessed?”

“…  Yes,” he confirmed.  His mood dropped in an instant.

“Could you please send it to me later?  I would like to have a word with them.”  His voice was as even as ever.

“You know what?  I’d like it, too.  And that ‘examination’ team if you have them,” All Might seethed.  “Gonna give those bastards a piece of my mind.”

“Woah, there’s no need fo-”

“’No need?’  No need!?  We just watched three, allegedly, high-ranking government investigators torture a child!”  Steam rose from his body.  “Who knows what other human rights they could be violating back at their lab, nomu or not!”

“Yes, but that is not our first priority,” Nezu interjected.

“How is it no-“

Nezu raised a paw.  “Solving an issue such as that is going to take time and a steady hand.  And if I recall, All Might, bureaucracy is not your strong suit.”  He deflated at that.  “I am fully prepared to see that through to the end.  But before that…”  Nezu produced a little box from behind his desk and gave it to Izuku.  “Young Midoriya is still in the dark about what they were seeking.”

Izuku opened the box cautiously.  Then he smiled.  Mini-him was inside without a single scratch.

“You fixed hi- it?”

“It fixed itself…” Tsukauchi clarified.  “We think it was the villain’s quirk.  Damage it causes to inanimate objects repairs itself after a couple hours.  No evidence of previous damage, even on the microscopic level.  We ran a full diagnostic on your bunny and found nothing, so you get him back,” he explained with a smile.

Izuku smiled in turn, but it faded quickly.  “’Inanimate?’”

All three adults looked between one another.  A second of silence took an hour.

“Two sidekicks went missing from your apartment last evening, and we suspect foul play,” Nezu said, ripping off the proverbial band aid. 

Izuku’s stomach dropped.

“Chuck and Dental Demolition.  From the Outfield Agency assigned to keep watch over the area,” Tsukauchi elaborated quietly.  “We found evidence the villain was there and attacked, but no bodies…”

He recognized the names.  They were new to the scene when Izuku started middle school.  Outfield always had sidekicks with quirks related to throwing things, since his own quirk let him catch anything.  He’d seen them working a few times back in his hero watching days.  They weren’t very popular, but he liked them.  He had pages for them in one of his older notebooks.  They signed them.  Izuku’s mind grafted the wounds from Jakku onto his memories of the smiling heroes.

“The villain was squatting there at least a day, maybe more.  They only noticed a figure in the window by chance.”

Same as Aoyama.  “What, what was it doing there?” he breathed.

“We’re not sure on the details.  It was clearly eating a lot; empty packaging everywhere.  …  Feathers too.”

“How did no one notice?” Izuku asked. 

“The teleportation quirk, most likely.  It stole food with it, too.  The neighbors only realized things were missing after we asked, so it was probably taking a little from a lot of people.”

“Did the sidekicks manage to find anything before…?”

“Negative.  The signal from their communicators dropped after they went inside and never came back on.  The villain was gone by the time backup showed up.” 

Nezu looked solemnly at a series of papers on his desk while Tsukauchi spoke.  Pictures.  Izuku shook his head when they made eye contact.  He didn’t need to see any of that to know it was bad.

“Has anyone talked to Mom yet?” he ventured.

“Yes, and she’s been a big help.  She gave us the clear to investigate your house further and helped us identify some things that had been stolen.”

“Like what?”  This is the first I’ve heard of it stealing something that isn’t food…

“Clothes mostly.  Yours and your mother’s.  Money and valuables were untouched.”

Izuku thought for a moment.  “Okay…  But what does all that have to do with those examiners?  Recovery Girl said they already have my medical records.  Were they checking for damage by the villain themselves?  But, there were all those questions…  Do they think I’m in on it for some reason?” he rambled.  His attention jumped between each adult.  They knew why.  Somebody explained it all to them as soon as he went in for the examination.  It was written all over their rigid expressions, as well as a silent argument as to who was going to tell him.

The principal took the charge once again.  “As it was explained to me, the woman was using the needle as a conduit for her quirk.  The impact generates a pulse that she can use to find and assess the state of internal structures, particularly those quirk-related.  The pain she caused also supposedly helped the man read the truth of your statements.”  He intertwined his fingers tight.  “The other woman was sensing your quirk factor directly.”

Izuku still didn’t quite understand.  What would his quirk or any hypothetical structures related to it have to do with…  Unless…

“They, they thought I was the villain, didn’t they?  They were looking for the wings,” he asked uneasy.  “W-why?”

Tsukauchi and Nezu nodded.  All Might rubbed his face with a deep, anguished sigh.

“They found…”  Another sigh.

“They found feathers clean enough for a DNA test,” Tsukauchi strained.  “…  It’s related to you.”

The dread Izuku felt was his own.

Chapter Text

This one got hit, too, Himiko thought.  She knew it before she even opened the door.  The stink of bodies permeated the whole street.  To her, at least.  She wondered if anyone would have noticed if there was anyone around to notice.  Most didn’t have her sense for detail, after all.  Details like: how that part of the storefront wouldn’t be illuminated by streetlights.  And how the entrance was right of the edge of the decade-out-of-date security cameras’ blind spots.  Or how there was a window corresponding to nearly every potential lookout angle.  It was the perfect place to do things out of sight; whether it be trading contraband vehicles, or getting slaughtered apparently.

Just as expected, corpses littered the garage floor.  It was hard to tell how many with all the severed body parts tossed every which-way.  Handyman said that only three of them worked for Sensei, but there were a lot more than that.  It was a functioning auto-repair shop after all.  Or it had been.  Whoever got them either didn’t know who was who or didn’t care.

Himiko skipped over the flayed remains to the manager’s office.  It was a shame so much good blood was going to waste.  The humid musk she waded through said there was a lot.  But these guys were too cold for her taste.  She preferred her friends to be warm and screaming.

Which reminded her: Dabi!  He was real warm, even though he was super chill.  Except when he fought heroes; then he screamed sometimes.  Even though he’s my friend, he won’t let me make him scream.  Maybe someday…  But for now, I’ll just call, she pouted.  He picked up right on the first ring.  How sweet of him!

“God dammit Toga, how many times do I have to tell you to text?  What if it was hiding?”

“Just put your phone on vibrate, dummy,” she giggled.  There was a bunch of garbage she had to move around too.  It was like a tornado came though.  Or a giant bird given all the feathers.

“That still makes a sound,” he droned.

“You know, I was just thinking about how much I love it when you’re mad,” she teased.

“Delightful as always.  Aren’t you like twelve?”

“Noooo, I’m waaay older than thaaat,” she whined in a mock-baby voice.

Dabi groaned.  “Are you at the garage?”

“Oh, yeah, no, everybody’s dead.  And whoever did it was suuuper sloppy.”  She kicked part of a torso away from the door to the office.  Loose organs were so distasteful.

“Everyone?  Even the people who didn’t work with us?”

“Ye-ep,” she popped the P.

“Damn.  Same thing at the motel.  Two contacts, twelve bodies.”  He actually had a little feeling in those lines.  She wasn’t sure what, but there was definitely some feeling.

“You counted?  There’s too many bits and pieces for me to tell.”

“No, I couldn’t get it.  Cops have the whole place on lockdown.  They haven’t found the garage yet?”

“Nope.  Real quiet here.”  Much to her boredom.  She’d been really looking forward to crossing blows and blood with whoever was mowing down League side-ops.  That seemed like a fun person to get to know.

“Are any of the cars still intact?”

“All of ‘em, looks like.  There isn’t a scratch on anything, except for the people who got scratched in half.”  That was as true as she could tell.  Based on some positions of cars, body parts, and blood stains, someone had been throwing things around.  Yet there wasn’t so much as a dent.  Not even the clothes had holes despite the many holes in their wearers.  Maybe whoever did it wasn’t so sloppy after all.

“In ha-  Ugh, maybe we can salvage something.  Whi-“

“I can drive!”

“No, no you cannot,” he scolded.  She also loved it when he pulled his big brother voice.  “While you’re there, try and get rid of anything that could link them to us.”

“Bit late for that…”  All over the manager’s office were damning messages scrawled in blood.  ‘Fence,’ ‘launderer,’ ‘burner supply,’ and a bunch of other words news-people and Kurogiri liked to use covered every surface.  The centerpiece, over the most in-tact body in the building, was a message with an arrow: ‘I gave supplies and money to the League of Villains.’  But the thing that caught Himiko’s eyes were the names and logos of other businesses the League worked with.  There were also a ton she didn’t recognize.  She told Dabi about it.

“…  What the fuck?”

“Heh, yeah,” she giggled, absent-mindedly plugging the flash drive with the kill codes into the main computer.

“Take some pictures and get those back to the others as soon as possible,” he directed.  “If Japan’s finest haven’t already found enough info to track us, that’ll do it.”

“Already o-“  A phone rang.  It came from outside the office.  “Hang on, Dabs, I’m getting another call.”  And she hung up.

It was some puddle’s cell phone.  Himiko licked a bit of stale blood off a cold finger, and shuddered.  Ugh, that is nasty.  How did I survive without the League’s preserving stuff?  Her quirk was up by the third ring.

“Daisuke!  Oh man, Daisuke, are you alright?” the shaken voice of the other side asked.

“I-I think so.  What’s wrong man?” she drawled.  She paced over to a mirror in the corner that really should’ve been shattered given the blood splatter.  Daisuke wasn’t a bad looking guy, she pondered over her quirk.  Nice face, good build, decent fashion sense.  Maybe a better haircut and less dismemberment…

“Are you at the garage?”

“…  No.”

“Well stay away, man!  Somebody’s taking out League contacts!”

“No way, really?” she feigned surprise. 

“Yeah!  Whole precinct is on it!

A mole with the cops!  Now that’s fun!

“They found bodies at one of the trigger drops last night.  Apparently, whoever did it left clues to other places and they found those too.  I caught a glimpse of the list and I didn’t recognize half of ‘em!”

A low-ranking mole, she slumped.  Come on, I know this already.  Get to the good stuff!  “Any idea how they know that much?”

“I, well, I mean, they’re probably someone high up the ladder gone rogue.  How else would they know places I ain’t know, ya know?”

“I know,” she replied.  That’s obvious.  Where’s the dirt, mole?  “Anything else I should look out for?”

“I was gonna ask you that!  Some of the guys think this thing’s a nomu!”

That caught her off-guard.  “What’s making them say that?” 

“They’re talking about five or six quirks to one guy, and it thrashed around like an animal.  Didn’t you transport some of those fuckers one time?”

“Yeah, but, they were locked up pretty tight.  Didn’t see much action.”  Like some rando car fence would know what’s up with the nomu, she scoffed internally.  Sure, none of the vanguard knew where the nomus were kept, but Himiko felt like Shigaraki, or more likely Kurogiri, would warn them if one got out.  And even the new high-end crop couldn’t take two steps without orders, let alone make targeted attacks undetected.  Something else was going on…  “Whose saying this?”

“U.A. staff!  It got in and attacked one of their kids before it started rampaging around town!  It barely touched them but it’s killing us!  Rumor is it got some sidekicks too!”

Now that’s what I’m talking about!  This guy is the real deal!  Will it win my heart with an inspired target?  “You only said one kid, any idea which?”

“Wha- oh yeah, it’s been after that Deku kid.”

Himiko’s train of thought screeched to a halt.  “…  What?” 

“Yeah, Midoriya Izuku.  Ya know, the little green kid who got roasted alive last Sports Festival?  Took out that Yakuza boss…  I even heard talk he took down Muscular.  Muscular!  Single handedly!  Now tha-“

“No, no.  I know who it is,” she hissed, a bit of her own voice creeping in.  Oh, no!  Now that bastard’s crossed a line!  How dare some nobody try and hurt my boyfriend!  Who does this freak think he is?  So help me, it spilled a single drop of Deku-kun’s blood…

“Daisuke?  You still there, man?” the voice interrupted.

“Yes, I’m still here…”  But we’re done.  “Listen, man.  I’m gonna go pass all this along to the others, alright?”

“Al-Alright, man.  Stay safe out there…  And Daisuke?”

“Hmm?” Himiko responded, already checked out.

“I love you.”

“…  Oh, now that’s sad.”  She ended the call in a huff.  No way that loser mole could understand real love.  Not like the love me and Deku-kun share!  The way we fight and made each other bleed…  She sighed longingly, before immediately resolving herself.

She texted Dabi as she went back for the flash drive.

“Gonna do my own investigation.  Shouldn’t take more than a couple days.”  

For good measure, she cut up the manager a little more and covered the writing with more blood.  She imagined it was the feather-fucker.

Nobody gets to hurt Deku-kun but me!

“In conclusion, our modern hero society wouldn’t exist in its current form had people before not first believed a man could fly.  Thank you.”  Izuku took a short bow, and the class applauded.

“Alright!  Good job,” Midnight praised.  She patted his shoulder as he passed to return to his seat.  “And with that, we’re all done with presentations.  Let’s give another round to Midoriya for closing us out on a high note.”  They did so, and Izuku blushed into his hands.

“Thanks,” he murmured.  In all honesty, he was just glad he got to present at all.  Izuku had all the prerecorded stuff ready to go while he was still sick from the villain.  But the morning of, he realized: I’m not sick anymore.  I can do this.  And he did, with a big dumb smile on his face the whole time.

“That isn’t to say we had any low notes.  Everyone had strong projects.  You should all be proud of yourselves.  I sure am.”  The bell chimed.  “Okay, everyone who hasn’t given me their paper, pass them up.  Time permitting, I’ll have these graded and back to you before the week is out.  And you can all rest easy knowing you won’t have any homework from me until then,” Midnight said.

Izuku’s smile fell.  ‘Time permitting’ was a nice way of saying ‘if there isn’t another villain attack.’  Everyone knew it.  The whole school was on edge.  For the past few days, the whole campus seemed to be quieter.

Ectoplasm walked in just as Izuku fished out his math book.

“Morning, everyone,” he greeted.

“Good morning , Sensei,” they all replied.

“Midoriya, head down to the principal’s office.”  It was obvious a few people wanted to joke but didn’t.  “There’s a call waiting for you.”

He swallowed.  “Sh-should I bring my stuff?  In case class ends before I’m back?”

“I would say so.”

The others pretended not to look at him while he repacked.  Midnight met him outside.  The school’s decision not to leave him alone hadn’t been lifted.  She didn’t say much besides the usual pleasantries, which he was both grateful and concerned about.  Izuku didn’t know how much the teachers knew.  They had more details about his condition under the villain’s quirk than the visiting heroes guarding campus.  He and Midnight passed a few on the walk to the faculty elevator.  They mostly ignored him, save a few scattered smiles. 

But how many people know about the DNA connection?  …  What is the connection?

“Take care, bud,” Midnight said after Izuku stepped out of the elevator.  He gave her a little wave, which she returned.  The doors shut, and he was alone for the first time in days.  He hesitated before knocking on the principal’s door, savoring the quiet.  Personal time was yet another thing the villain took from him.  But he still had to knock.

“Good morning, Young Midoriya!  Your first day back in class has treated you well, I hope,” Principal Nezu welcomed him inside.

“Ye-yes Sir, it’s been good so far,” he replied nervously.  His eyes wandered to the land phone on the coffee table.  So far.

“I’m terribly sorry, but the call and your response were so sudden, I didn’t have time to make you any tea.”  He bowed in apology, smile never leaving his face.

“Oh no, that’s alright,” Izuku said, voice cracking.  The principal gestured for him to sit down.

“Now, I know the events around your last visit here are still fresh, but rest assured, nothing so stressful is going to happen this time.”  He stepped around the table.  “We’ve received a call from the safehouse secure phone.  Your mother is waiting on the line.”

“Mom!?”  Izuku all but dove for the phone.  He hadn’t heard from Mom directly in three days.  “H-hello?”

“Hey, Baby,” she breathed. 

“Hi Mom!”  He folded into himself, almost tearing up at the sound of her voice.  But then he realized how rude he was being to the principal.  The man just smiled.

“Take as long as you need.  I’ll be right outside if you need anything.  Just open the door when you’re done,” Nezu whispered.

“Thank you, Sir,” he whispered back.  The mouse man retrieved a stack of papers and left him be.  “Are you okay?” he asked Mom.

She sighed.  “As I can be.  This place is nice enough, but I can’t leave, and I have no idea where I am.”

“What is the place?”

“It’s, it’s kind of like an underground apartment complex.  Or a hotel, I guess, since they serve us food here.”

“Or a prison,” Izuku added cynically.

“Not quite that bad,” she giggled weakly.  “We have free range of the facility during the day, and there are lots of nice people also staying here.  I feel kind of bad, actually.  Some of these folks are in really rough situations, and I’m still not completely sure what’s going on.”  She sighed again.  “What about you?  Are you okay?”

“I-I’ve been better, mostly,” he said with a slight smile.  “I’ve been eating and sleeping better, and I still haven’t had an attack since the teachers found the villain.  Oh!  I just got out of doing my Superman presentation.”

“And how did that go?”

“Good, I think,” he said, leaning back into the couch.  “I stammered a bit in the beginning, and I went over the time limit…  But I don’t think I failed!”  He fiddled with his shoelace.

Mom laughed.  “I can’t imagine you failing any school work.”

“Don’t jinx it,” he responded.  Mom chuckled again while he just exhaled.  After that, they were quiet.  They both knew what was coming.

“Did anything else happen?” 

He swallowed.  “…  These, these people came, and ran a test on me…”

“What kind of test?”

“It was, it was weird.  They ran a medical examination on me while they were interviewing me.”  Despite his instincts yelling to tone it down, he needed to be honest.  “I think they were trying to provoke me.  After every question, one of the examiners stuck me with a needle.”  Mom inhaled sharply through the line. 

“What?!  Why on earth would they do that?”

“They…  They thought I was the villain,” Izuku forced out.  Instead of the tearful reaction he expected, Mom sighed.

“Oh, no, Baby, I was worried about that…”

“You know…  Wait, did they run it on you too!?” he exclaimed, horrified.

“No, it’s alright.  I don’t know about needles, but yes, they ran me through a physical and asked some weird questions.  They told me about the DNA connection after,” she explained lowly.  That was the first time since the bomb was dropped someone else acknowledged it out loud. 

It’s real.  “Wh-what kind of questions did they ask you?” he ventured.

“A lot about our family’s medical history.  Types of quirks and mental illness.  You being a late bloomer with a mutation…”

“Anything else?”  He went to hold his knees against his chest but immediately realized he shouldn’t put his shoes on the principal’s couch.

She paused a moment.  “…  They asked me if you were really an only child.”

Detective Tsukauchi’s words echoed: “It’s not a perfect match, but it’s distressingly close.  Immediate-family close.”

“…  Am I?”

“Izuku, of course you are.  Why wouldn’t I tell you something like that?” Mom asked.  He shrugged; even though she couldn’t see him she knew.  “Baby, what did they ask you?  I want to know specifically what they asked you.”

“They said…”  He didn’t want to say it.  “They said, since my quirk is different from you and Dad, and mutations are rare, I must either be adopted, or…”  He really didn’t want to say it.  “Illegitimate.”

Mom exhaled slowly through her nose.  “They’re the bastards.  Not you.”  Anyone else would have laughed.

“B-but-“

“Izuku, listen to me,” Mom snapped.  He winced back into the couch.  “You are my son.  You are my first and only baby.  You’re your father’s son, too.  No question.  If you weren’t, you’re old enough that I would tell you.  But you are, so there’s nothing to tell.  Those ‘investigators’ were just trying to provoke you, trigger an emotional response.  Don’t give them that power now that they’re gone.”

“O-okay, Mom.  Thank you,” he sniffled, a tiny smile cracking through.  I’m just paranoid…  But…  “What about Dad?”

“Huh?  What about him?”

“Does he, you know…”  The ceiling was looking real interesting.  “Have any, other, kids?”

“He better not.”

“Pfft!”  He covered his mouth.  Mom was one of the few people who could make him laugh.  Shame it didn’t last.  That wasn’t a no.

“Relax, I’m just joking,” Mom snickered.  “Hisashi’s only other kids are his cats.”

“Heh, yeah.”  The light outside was just starting to shift into an afternoon glow.  The rooftops of the dorms were visible.  He wasn’t sure where his next question came from, but it came out of his mouth before he realized it.  “Why did you and Dad have just me?” 

“Huh?  Well…  We didn’t need to have any more kids.  We got it perfect on the first try,” she chirped.

Izuku barely contained the low grunt in the back of his throat.  That was the stock answer he’d been hearing for years.

“You just said I was old enough for the truth,” he countered.

“…  Okay,” Mom relented, then took a deep breath.  “We wanted to have more kids, when we first got married.  Your father and I are both only children, and we’ve never been that close with cousins and such, so we wanted to give having a big family a try…”

“And?”

“And we had you.  And you were perfect, that wasn’t a lie.  You still are,” she cooed.  Izuku traced the seams of his shoe with his pinky, expressionless.  “We originally planned to have kids two years apart, but I had some…  Health issues, after you were born, so we put it off for another few years.”  Her tone said that was a line he couldn’t cross.

“Uh huh.”

“Around the time we were starting to discuss having another baby…  The doctor said you were quirkless.”

There it is.  He scowled.

“You…  You were in a really bad place, for a while…”  Mom swallowed with a sniffle.  “I didn’t want you to feel like you were being replaced, so Hisashi and I talked, and, and we agreed to put it off again.”

Until I got over it, some angry little voice whispered.

“We, we had the same talk once or twice every year, until your father got his job in Boston.  I didn’t want to take care of another baby by myself and he didn’t want to miss out on anything, so…  That’s where we are now,” Mom concluded.  They were both quiet again, for longer that time.

“…  I’m sorry,” Izuku mumbled.

“No.  Izuku, no.  It’s not your fault.  You had no say in any of that,” she argued.  “…  You didn’t ask for your life.”

He slumped.  “Do you…  Still want more kids?”

“Oh, goodness no,” she said exasperated.  “Honestly, I can’t even imagine it anymore.  I’m too old for that anyway.”

“You’re not old, Mom,” Izuku said.  “What about Dad?”

“He’s not the one putting the work in so what he thinks about it doesn’t matter.”

“Okay,” he snorted with a relieved smile.

“Has he gotten a chance to talk to you, though?  He said he would,” Mom asked.

“No,” Izuku replied, relief gone.  “I haven’t heard from Dad in,” -Weeks?  Months?- “a while.”

“Hmm, well, maybe you should try calling first,” she suggested.  “I have his work schedule, if you want I can forward it, so you know when he’s most likely to answer.  Time zones can be tricky.”  Her smile was obvious.

“…  Okay.”

“I-I think it’ll help.  One extra person to talk to can go a long way.  And I’m sure he’ll drop everything if you call.” 

Sure.  “So, you’ve talked to him?” he said.

“Mhmm.  I’ve been keeping him updated on everything that’s happened.  I called him right after you before they moved me out here a couple days ago.”  Someone started playing cheery music near her.

“…  What did he say?”

“He’s really worried,” she said sadly.

Longingly, Izuku’s mind supplied.

“Back before, when we thought you were just sick, he was planning on flying back here.”  Mom chuckled a bit.  “I had to talk him down from booking the next redeye after he found out about the villain.”  She sighed.  “He’s always been so protective of you…  Heh, he was so nervous the first time we sent you on an errand by yourself, he was hacking up smoke the whole time he explained what you needed to do.  Do you remember that?”

“Sort of.”  Not really.  “So…  He’s not coming back?”

“The police don’t think it’s safe, since the villain is targeting us.  But he promised to be on the first flight back after the villain is dealt with.  And he’ll be back for New Years, just like always,” she reassured.  “Oh!  He also said to tell you he loved your Jakku showcase!”

Izuku blinked slowly.  He changed the subject.

For the first time in a long time, possibly ever, Izuku hated his own pension for theorizing.  Each one was worse than the last.  He sat in his corner fidgeting over the plate of food in his lap.  A clone was looking like his best guess.  Whether it be artificially grown or based on the villain Twice’s quirk; Izuku had no idea the scope of the League’s scientific capabilities, so both were equally possible.  His DNA could just be one sample of many; the teachers said it might have Aizawa’s quirk too.  It wouldn’t have One for All at least.  And he knew for sure that Toga got a hold of his blood that one time.  Or maybe they built a nomu from scratch and just used his DNA as a base.  But why?  Most other nomus were big and built, and that thing seemed pretty scrawny.  Was it to intentionally frame him?  Or just mess with him?  But that wasn’t really that far from the clone theory.  Or maybe the thing had another quirk that could change its own genetic code and wanted to use that to frame him.  There were certainly less plausible quirks out there.  It was a miracle he managed not to mumble. 

Things must have been so much easier before quirks.

He pushed his rice around the paper plate.  He really wasn’t that hungry, but he popped a few grains into his mouth anyway.  It wasn’t bad, but it was a far cry from the quality of Lunch Rush’s food he had earlier.  Nezu put him in front of what could have been argued as a small banquet after he got off the phone with Mom.

“A belated apology,” he said.  ‘For everything,’ he didn’t.

But back in the dorms, the teachers herded them into the shelter as soon as the sun went down.  They had ten minutes to grab what they needed and couldn’t go anywhere alone.

Izuku and the others had been sleeping in the shelter for three nights.  This was the fourth.  While there hadn’t been any more sightings near campus, the public villain warning kept going up.  Dozens came up dead.  Many were suspected League contacts, but still.  The rare survivors told of distorted screams, black wings, and cold, crippling dread.  And somehow, that thing shared his DNA.

Dozens dead, by someone who shares my blood…  And he fell back into his theory cycle.  As much as he wanted to share his mother’s faith, his mind kept wandering back to Dad.  Mom said the investigators said the villain was related to her, too.  Someone who shares my blood…  They might be related through me.  But would the League go so far as to pry-up a secret half-sibling just to get in his head?  And that was assuming there was one at all.  He wasn’t sure if Dad was that kind of person in the first place; he wasn’t sure what kind of person he was at all.  He barely knew the man.  But Mom knew him, and she trusted him.  So why couldn’t he?

The ‘good night’ text he sent her didn’t go through.  It never did, so Izuku wasn’t sure why he sent it.  The shelter’s walls were too deep and too thick.  And they seemed to get smaller every night.  Izuku suddenly felt like he took up too much space in his little corner.

He didn’t really.  His air mattress was a small slice of property compared to the elaborate blanket forts his friends had built.  Some brought chairs and lamps to hang stuff one.  A few brought appliances and gaming systems for the rest to share.  Everything from microwaves and minifridges to books and board games to a projector and Blu-ray player.  Yaoyorozu made a large rechargeable battery and enough outlet ports for twice the amount of electronics.  They were going to stay there for who knows how long, so they might as well.

Aizawa came in right as Izuku got up to throw away his plate.  He had Eri with him, along with her sleep stuff.  All Might and Tiger, who was staying with them that night, went to speak with him.  They beckoned Izuku over. 

“Yes?  What’s going on?” he asked.  Eri happily waved to him, which he returned weakly.

“I’m heading out on recon.  We have a lead,” Aizawa said coolly. 

Izuku’s eyes went wide.  A couple different questions raced through his mind, but most concerned the connection.  And he still wasn’t sure how many people knew.

“C-can you say what it is?” he settled on.  All Might side-eyed him knowingly.

“Based on its attack patterns, we think we know where it will strike next,” he explained.

Izuku sighed in brief relief before Tiger spoke up.

“Anywhere nearby?”  He crossed his arms over his leopard-print pajamas. 

“No closer than eight miles.”  His vagueness was a mix of classification protocol and professional superstition.  You shouldn’t talk about a job to people who aren’t involved before it goes down.  Izuku felt involved enough.

“Who’s going with you?” he pushed.

“Some underground colleagues,” his teacher shut down.  “Everyone else will be either patrolling or guarding you kids, like before.”  He was tired of it all too.

“That’s good to hear,” All Might sighed.

“Yep.  And since I’ll be gone, and everyone else is busy…”  He stepped forward, presenting Eri.  She happily reached out to Izuku.  Gently, he took her into his own arms, where she immediately wrapped her own around his neck. 

“Hi, Deku,” she whispered.

“Hi, Eri,” he replied, equally quiet.

“I’m leaving the kid with her favorite babysitter,” he said with a smirk.  All Might and Tiger chuckled quietly on either side of him.  A couple of his classmates snickered from behind.

“Favorite, eh?  That’s a high honor,” Tiger teased.

“He’s the best!” Eri turned to say.  They laughed again while Izuku shifted her weight.

“You know the drill?” Aizawa asked him

“No more sugar.  Small snacks ok.  In bed by eight thirty, asleep by nine.  At least one bedtime story, happy endings only,” he recited.  All Might stifled another laugh.

“What’s so funny, Mr. Might?” Eri asked.

“Why are you making fun of him for being responsible?” Tiger questioned.

“If, heh, if only he could apply discipline that to himself,” his mentor mocked.

Izuku rolled his eyes.  “You’re one to talk,” he quipped back.  The adults laughed again; even Aizawa smiled.

“In that case, I’m off,” he said, spinning on his heel towards the door.  “You brats be good.  That goes for all of you!” he yelled to the room.

“Yes, Sensei,” Izuku and the others parroted.  “Be safe,” he added quietly. 

As much as Izuku liked Eri and wanted her to be happy, her presence threw a wrench in his sulking plans.  But maybe that was for the best.  A distraction would be good.

“So,” he asked the little girl, “what do you want to do first?”

“…  Color,” she said.

The girls had plenty of art supplies to share.  Yaoyorozu had a big box  of stuff she’d made in the past, and for Eri, would be willing to make more.  She passed over some paper and crayons as they walked up. 

“You can use my gel pens if you like, too!” Hagakure chirped.

“And I have crazy scissors if you want to cut out some patterns,” Mina added.

But Eri was content doodling what looked like little horses.  Tiger shut down a violent videogame tournament on the other side of the room, and a few of the guys came over to join them.  It didn’t take long for most of the class to start drawing with her.

Normally, Izuku could leave her to a big group like this.  But that night, she wasn’t having it.  As soon as he moved to stand, she grabbed his hand.

“We have to stick together.  Erasersir said so.”

That triggered several ‘ooohs’ from the rest of the class. 

“I’m just getting up to get my notebook, I’ll be right back,” he defended.  Reluctantly, she let him go, but didn’t remove her gaze until he was back.  Once he sat down, she nodded and went back to her horses.

“She’s got you on lockdown eh Midoriya?” Kaminari teased.  Some of the others chuckled.  He just shrugged.

“Erasersir said that I’m in charge of him tonight.”

“Pfft!”

“Oh, that’s great!”

“What will Midoriya do if you don’t watch him, Eri?” Ojiro asked.

“Something dumb.”

The whole room erupted.  Izuku didn’t look up from his Superman drawing, cheeks warm with blush.  A hand so large it could only have been All Might’s patted his back.  He looked back to see All Might’s much better drawing of Superman.  It wasn’t done, but already looked more like Superman that Izuku’s.  He decided his was Bizarro instead.

Most everyone agreed that they should all turn in early so Eri wouldn’t be left out.  But first they needed to decide shifts for the night.

“I’ll take first watch,” Izuku piped up before anyone else could even raise their hands.  “I have to make sure Eri gets to sleep anyway.”

“…  Are you su-“

“Yes,” he cut Kirishima off.  This was their fourth night in the shelter, and Izuku hadn’t been on guard once.  He had enough of being coddled.  He couldn’t go after the villain with Aizawa, he couldn’t go on patrol, and he was barely allowed to participate in hero training again.  Staying awake two hours later wasn’t much.  He needed that at least.

Beside him, All Might looked like he was about to object.  But Tiger beat him to it.

“Alright, who wants to go after Midoriya?”  It wasn’t clear if he was oblivious or intentionally throwing him a bone.  Izuku was grateful either way.

With that worked out, Izuku took his spot in his corner with All Might and Eri on either side of him.  Eri brought her own storybook, a story about a little princess learning to read, which they took turns reading to one another.

“Wow, you’ve made a lot of progress, Eri,” he complimented.  She smiled into her unicorn push.  He let her borrow Mini-him too.

“Thank you.”

“Well, I think that’s enough for tonight, don’t you think?”

“No,” she yawned.

“Think of it this way,” he began.  “The earlier you go to bed, the earlier you can wake up.  Maybe, if you go to sleep now, you can wake up before I have to go to class and we can play some more.  How about that?”  The compromise had worked before, and it worked again.

“Okay,” she said with another yawn.  Eri shimmied deeper into her sleeping bag, then Izuku adjusted the blanket over her.

“You good?”

“Mhmm.  Goodnight, Deku.”

“Goodnight, Eri,” he whispered. 

“Hey Deku?”

“Yes?”

“What do you want to play tomorrow?” she asked.

“I think Tsuyu brought a puzzle.  We should ask her tomorrow if we can use it.”

“Okay,” she answered, then rolled over.  A minute passed.  “…  Deku?

“Hmm?”

“Are you scared of the bad guy?”

He winced, a chill ran in and out of him.

“…  Yes, I’m very scared,” Izuku answered under his breath.  Had he ever admitted it before?  Certainly not directly.  But it didn’t matter, because Eri was out like a light right after.

He turned away, towards the shelter door.  It was thicker than a bank vault, with at least half a dozen different alarms wired to it.  The others said keeping watch was just a formality.  There was no way a villain could get in. 

But it got in before, Izuku thought.  Undetected.  He hugged one knee and rested his chin against it.  He thought back to red eyes and feathers.  To dread and cold and pain.  To his blood.

The lights were dimmed.  The gentle noise of his classmates breathing filled the space.  All Might was already out-cold next to Izuku, though he seemed closer than he remembered.  The shelter door was too close and too far at the same time.  Izuku felt like he was shrinking.  He pictured spiked wings crawling out of a black warp gate.  But that couldn’t happen.  No one outside of campus even knew the shelters existed.  But no one ‘knew’ where the training camp would be held either…

And the villain was attacking the League too.  Why would it attack its own people?  From what Izuku understood, nomu needed orders to act.  Was a rogue member using its pet?  Was it someone not completely transformed seeking revenge?  But then why go after him?  Why was it related to him.  Why me?

Izuku thought of Dad again.  He thought of last New Years, when they last talked in person…  But Dad still seemed to love Mom.  Was he the sort of person to cheat on her?  Did he have an ex before Mom?  He should have asked more during the call, but he just wanted that conversation to end. 

But, what if it’s not a half-sibling or a clone at all?  What if-

Something rang on the other side of the room.  Izuku saw the light from someone’s phone.  Sato’s.  His was the next shift.  Izuku sighed half-heartedly.  There was no way he was going to sleep with all the garbage swirling in his head.  But the phone kept ringing.

Izuku sat up a little straighter to get a better look.  He couldn’t see much in the low light, but Sato’s large shadow didn’t budge.  Neither did those sleeping near him.  The alarm wasn’t quiet either.

“Sato!” he whisper-yelled.  “Wake up!  It’s your turn.”  He knew it was useless.  If he couldn’t hear the phone right next to him, how could he hear a fake yell from across the room. 

Then it clicked: something wasn’t right.  He still heard some breathing among the reading.  Izuku turned to All Might and shook his shoulder.  The man snored a bit, but didn’t stir.  Eri didn’t either.

“Guys!?” he yelled at full volume.  Nothing.  Izuku swallowed.  The tiniest pinch of dread poked his heart.

Instinctively, he looked up.

Chapter Text

Shouta shifted his position.  His legs were falling asleep.  Two hours was far from the longest time he’d been crouched down for a stakeout.  Maybe he was just starting to get old.

In the other three corners of the building, bathed in their own shadows, other underground pros held the same stance as him.  To his left, Blitz.  Taser-finger quirk, newer to the scene but a respectable record.  There was Vitals the lookout, keeping tabs on anything with a pulse within half a kilometer.  He was one of Shouta’s contemporaries; they’d worked together before.  Silhouette at the far right rounded out the team with her ability to become a living shadow.  Still working on the frontlines after forty, she had a respectable career by pro standards; by underground standards, she was a veteran.

Below them, villains.  Under a dozen.  Most were just grunts; thugs with low-level offenses.  They milled about the brightly-lit warehouse doing grunt work like packing equipment and loading it into a truck.  Muzzles that could have been mistaken for bear traps, shackles that could clamp a horse’s neck, and chain links the width of bike tires.  Nomu restrains.

Midoriya’s villain only seemed to hit League operations randomly.  While it wrote out the names and logos of several suspected fronts and hit places all over town, it only ever struck at places tied to the nomus.  Places like a trigger drop site used for funds, a garage to supply and get rid of transport vehicles, a motel near a hospital that mediated sales of stolen medical supplies.  Almost all of the locations had been on a list of suspected League supporters for a while, but the villain confirmed them.  There were two known places in the general area where the villain would potentially strike next: the warehouse Shouta’s team was currently in, and a social worker’s office suspected of human trafficking. 

Shouta couldn’t help but be glad he was on this assignment.  Stuff involving kids was the worst.  There were plenty of children back at the school who needed his help; he didn’t need to be tempted by any more.  He resisted checking the time. 

Eri’s probably in bed by now, even if Midoriya let her stay up late, which he usually did.  Shouta smiled internally.  The setup was good for both of them: Eri got to stay up later and have fun with the big kids, and Midoriya got to feel responsible.  The problem child had been dealing with a lot of rough crap lately.  Completing a softball assignment would be good for his confidence.  And he was one of the best at bringing Eri out of her shell.  Win-win.

I should set something up for all of them to work with more kids besides her, Shouta’s mind wandered.  Being able to work with children, traumatized or otherwise, is a valuable skill for heroes to have.  Though, I guess Midoriya is a traumatized child now.  Damn villain…  He shook himself slightly and focused.

A villain better dressed than the others stepped into view to direct the underlings.  He balked at their poor organization through a heavy accent.  Shouta recognized Alexander Strauss.  Wanted for skipping out on parole.  Used his trust quirk a few years back to scam people into buying fake insurance plans.  Technically a nonviolent crime, he was still classified as a villain due to using his quirk for it.  Got out on bail and disappeared.  And now he was a foreman for the League, apparently.

Beside him, Marker, a villain with multiple murders to his name.  Shouta recognized the tattoo of a stack of children’s blocks on his arm.  He could draw any shape on a surface, then pull out that chunk.  Including human flesh.  He liked to torture his victims before killing them.

These were some high-profile criminals that the underground heroes were just babysitting at that point.  Sure, they were tough, at least Marker was, but with Shouta to cancel out all their quirks from above, they didn’t stand a chance against the others.  All the evidence they needed was on record, from their previous crimes to their involvement with the League.  Textbook bust.  This was the sort of thing Shouta specialized in.  But they were the bait for a bigger fish.

Two hours ago, the heroes could barely see the floor there was so much junk strewn about.  Now, echoes jumped louder and longer in the near-empty space.  They were running out of time.  He signaled to Vitals, who signaled back negatively.  Shouta’s eyes narrowed behind his goggles.

Where’s that damn monster?

Its attack pattern was obvious enough for the villains too.  Why else move their entire stock?  Frankly, it was obvious to anyone with the right information.  Either the thing with wings is the pet nomu of a disgruntled former Leaguer with a lot of information, or an intelligent nomu with a grudge.  Understandable if the latter was the case, but how did Midoriya fit into that?  It had to be something to do with the DNA connection. 

God, what must be going through that kid’s head?  …  Probably the same crap I thought about when Mic said it had my quirk.  As much as Shouta hated the idea, he didn’t have much of an alternative.  How else could it have resisted his erasure?  The villain seemed like it knew it too.  Back in the fight, it barely took its eyes off him.  He was not looking forward to facing it again.  He twitched slightly.  Best-case scenario, he got to sit pretty on his little perch and cancel out the bastard’s quirk while his associates laid into it.  Creature seemed pretty quirk-reliant, probably wouldn’t have done as much damage if I’d been able to get a hold of it.  Probably would have done worse if I hadn’t been around at all to keep its attent-

He shot up to his feet, heart suddenly pounding.  He barely noticed the others’ shocked reactions.

The bait’s for me!

“Wake up!”  Izuku barely moved in time.  Spiked wings nearly guillotined him from either side.  He held the still sleeping Eri close as he dove.  He sprinted towards the door.  Something hooked the back of his nightshirt and threw him back down. 

Red eyes blazed from the dark mass’s perch on the ceiling.  Its long, matted hair fell upwards.

A personal gravity quirk, his mind supplied.

It struck again.  Spikes came down one after another.  Izuku dodged.  The scratching sound they made on the concrete made his skin crawl.  People’s items started to float in the air.  Long shadows coated the walls in the dim light.  With a white-knuckled grip on Eri, he tried to lead the falling spines away from his sleeping classmates.

Definitely another quirk.  A wing swiped at him and he rolled under it.  I hope it’s just sleep.  The villain wheezed as it went for a low strike.  Izuku jumped.  One for All wouldn’t come.

“Someone help!”  It tried to guillotine him again, grazing his leg.  I need to fight it.  He ducked out of the way of someone’s hovering laptop.  But I can’t with Eri.  You’ve done it before.  Flying pens almost speared him.  That was different.  

Swipe.  Dodge.  Hiss. 

She was healing me with her quirk.  It was an open space.  Not many people around. 

Telekinetic fingers pinched his skin, trying to pull him back. 

Get out.  I can’t.  The door needs my student ID or a code to open.  My ID is in my bag.  Grab it.  I can’t dig for my card and keep moving with also looking out for-

A spike came for him in the air underneath.  He tilted so it just cut his shirt.

It would never give me the time. 

It rolled and chopped towards his neck.  He flipped backwards.

Would never let me get close.

The villain ran at him with its lower, un-spiked wings, regular feet trailing in the air behind, still upside-down on the ceiling.  Izuku kicked a spike away, making an opening.  He winced as he landed.  He felt a cut on the bottom of his bare foot.  The spikes were serrated. 

But he kept moving.  He couldn’t stop.  Hot air burned his lungs.  The strain was so much clearer without his support gear.  Slash.  Jump.  In the corner of his eyes he spotted the bloodstains around the room from his foot.

It’s toying with me.  It could easily overwhelm me.

“Please!  Anyone!”

The villain grazed him again.  His shoulder that time.  The force blew Eri’s hair.  In desperation, he lunged at Tiger, asleep near the door.  He heard a pop after his foot contacted the man’s shoulder.

I’m sorry.

But he still didn’t wake up.

Izuku lost focus for just a moment, and the villain clotheslined him.  He tumbled over the offending wing and hit the concrete hard.  Eri rolled from his grasp.  He reached for her.  A spike nailed his arm.  He yelled through tears.

“Wake up wake up wake up!”  He tried to pry himself free.  The honeycombed surface of the spike sliced up his free hand.

The villain put its full weight on the spike as it crawled down, huffing as it went.  Random objects orbited around it.  Its hair fell back to proper gravity.  The second set of wings, the featherless bat-like ones, did have claws, Izuku learned when one of them dug into his other hand.  It pinned him on his back.  Drool trickled down onto his chest.  The other bat wing held down his legs.  Thin arms ending in filthy, claw-like nails held close to its chest.  It rested its knees on his stomach.  He gave up on words, and just screamed. 

Unblinking red eyes glowed that much brighter contrasted against a face covered by dangling, black, curled hair.  Skin as sickly pale as the corpses in the diner peaked between the strands and the wrappings all over its body.  It crouched until it was inches away from Izuku’s face.  The stink of its wheezing breath flashed him back to the night it first appeared.  Just like then, it held still for a moment while Izuku writhed. 

This time, he could see its face.  It breathed through its tooth-stuffed mouth, faint puffs of steam wheezing by.  What skin wasn’t dangling loose from its cheeks and neck was shrink-wrapped over bone.  It was hard to tell if it had wrinkles, ridges from a quirk, or elaborate scars all over.  Blackened crust clogged its small, broken nose.  Those huge, horrible eyes sunk back into its skull deep enough the brow cast a masking shadow not unlike All Might.  Tiny lines ran across the eyes themselves, miniature scars.  They sifted around slightly, appraising Izuku.  Too wide to be calm, too considering to be feral.  But nonetheless angry.  Izuku kept screaming.

It slashed his chest with the rancid nails suddenly.  Cold air burned the wound immediately.  Izuku cried.

I don’t think I can do this.

It dug its appendages deeper into his arms.  Silently, it snarled hot air into his face.  And slashed again.  Blood splattered Ojiro and Shoji, but they didn’t stir.  What was left of Izuku’s nightshirt bloomed red.  Warm blood trailed down his sides onto the floor.  Izuku hissed.

So did the villain.  It raised a spiked wing.  Never once was eye contact broken.

Please forgive me.  It’s not my fault this time!  I did everything I could!

The point hovered over Izuku’s right eye.  It was getting hard to breath.  Struggling was painful.  It considered him again, face slightly scrunched.

It’s not fair!  It’s not fair!  It’s not fair!

He closed his eyes.  The spike lightly tapped the lid.

I don’t want to die!

“-in-lly.”

The villain reared up to strike.  Some of the weight on Izuku’s legs lessoned.  He didn’t think.  He yanked his right leg back, and kicked.  His heel dug into the villain’s windpipe.  The strike was quick, but enough.  It gagged and coughed, blinking as it did.

One for All came to life practically on its own, and pulled Izuku away.  He panted.  The entire front of his body seeped red.  Red eyes were back on him in an instant.  Exhausted, he put up a pathetic excuse for a fighting stance.  The villain lept spike-first.

Into a wall of ice.

Todoroki was up in a second, hitting his stance while clearly petrified.

“Yo, what’s g-  What the fuck!”

“Hey kee-  Holy shit!”

“What the fuck is that!?”

Similar confused yells rang out as the rest of the class woke up.  Tiger instantly stretched and grabbed Eri just as she started to wail.  At the other end of the room, All Might rose slowly.  His mouth hung open at the shambling horror before him.  The rest weren’t much better.

Aoyama struck first.  A laser blasts shot towards the villain.  It raised its wings into the line, and the beam spiraled around it.

“Wha-“

Before Aoyama could cry with indignation, the beam circled up the wing and down the other, coming off back at them.  Everyone ducked.  Glittering laser singed the walls above them.  The crouch pinched the wounds on Izuku’s chest.

Then dread.  Whoever wasn’t on the floor already went down.  A few managed gasps and whimpers. 

It must not be able to use the sleep and dread quirks at the same time, why else wouldn’t it have used it before? Izuku couldn’t help but analyze.  He forced his gaze up at the villain. 

It stood on both its human feet and bat wings, spiked ones unfurled as much as possible in the tight space.  As soon as Izuku made eye contact with it, the red glow reignited.  Still panting, Izuku scowled back.  It brought one of its wings closer above its body, and punched out the single overhanging light.

Darkness.

Nails dug into Izuku’s heel and dragged him across the floor.  He screamed and thrashed against inhuman grip.  His friends yelled things he couldn’t focus on in the background.  The villain triggered a pain attack so bad for a moment Izuku thought it stabbed him.  But it did coil a feathery limb around his torso like a jointed tentacle, crackling all the while.  Broken feather tips dug into his skin.  And then it squeezed.  He cried out.

“Drop him!”

Metal clanged.  The attack stopped and Izuku opened his eyes.  Yaoyorozu made flashlights.  She peened the villain in the back with one the size of a baseball bat.  Kirishima followed with his quirk, wrists decked with glowsticks.  The villain turned around and put them back down with dread.  Jirou and Hagakure came from behind with their own weapons.  Dark Shadow and Sato tried to grip the wings.  The villain screeched, and they went down.  In the background, Yaoyorozu and Kirishima got back up.

“The dread’s proportional!” Izuku choked out.  The villain squeezed tighter.  It thrashed around while his classmates poked and prodded it from all around.  Yaoyorozu circled, making lanterns and glowsticks as she went, which the villain repeatedly crushed.  Todoroki and Kacchan lit it up with their quirks.  Lights flashed on and off.  But their moves were limited by the others in the line of fire.  The sound of powers went in and out as the others’ were erased.

Izuku needed an opening.  He was already tired, and the villain flipped and rolled around, taking him with it.  The flashing lights hurt his eyes.  He swallowed bile.  Uraraka tried to get under them to use her quirk, but the villain saw her and kicked her back into a wall. 

“Is she okay?” someone called.

“You guys need, gah!  You need to hit it!”

“It’s still got Midoriya, I’ll zap him!”

“Yeah, my aim’s not that precise!  Plus, it might redirect my acid on to you guys!”

“Yell, we need to do something!”

Izuku’s brain bounced against the inside of his head as the villain jostled him.  Dirty feathers pricked against open, burning wounds.  Any time he struggled it got tighter.

“You extras need to get it the game!”  Kacchan whizzed by him just as Izuku opened his eyes again.  The villain snapped towards him, erasure active.  But Kacchan was already in the air.  The raised wing twitched back, as did the villain.  Erasure couldn’t stop two thumbs in the eyes.  It screeched and reeled back.  With a flash of green, Izuku kicked free.

“Tha- hah, thanks Kacchan,” he breathed.

“Can it, nerd, we ain’t done!”

With Izuku out of the way, he and the rest of the rangers got to work.  Aoyama shot it again; it caught and coiled the blast like before.  But Todoroki’s fire distracted it, causing it to shoot the laser straight up.  Sero tried to tape it, but those circled the limbs as well.  Then, as the tape orbited, Mina got a clean splash of acid to its neck.  Izuku felt its pained cry in his bones.

“It can only redirect one at a time!” she yelled triumphantly. 

“Not at once!  Strike in sequence!” Izuku shouted.  “It can’t block something while moving something else!”

“Alright!”

“Let’s go!”

The rest returned to the fray.  Izuku sparked up to joint them.  Dark Shadow grabbed him before he could get far.  He placed him down gently behind Tokoyami.    

“You’re injured.  Let us take it from here,” he said, his avian head silhouetted against the chaos.  All Might appeared from nowhere and pulled Izuku back further, holding him close all the while.  He was shaking.  It sounded like he was trying to say something, but all Izuku could hear were the cries of his classmates. 

Fire and light lit up the monster.  The writhing mess of limbs rolled and jumped, but didn’t strike with the spikes.  They were too busy redirecting incoming attacks.  To the untrained eye, it looked overwhelmed.  But Izuku’s eyes were trained.  His friends’ fatigue was clear.  Blasts weakened.  Physical hits missed.  In their efforts to surround the beast, there was friendly fire.  Those without applicable quirks like Hagakure already exposed, Koda without any animals to command, and Jirou without her offensive support gear, remained at the edge, ready to pull out the wounded.  Uraraka was still down, unconscious next to Tiger and the shoulder Izuku broke still trying to clutch a sobbing Eri.

This isn’t their fight.  Exhausted and light-headed, he summoned One for All.  You couldn’t beat it alone before, what’s changed? A little voice whispered. 

“Midoriya, no!” All Might growled in his ear.  Izuku could break free from his mentor easily.  It was only respect that kept him back.  They both knew this.  “I won’t let that thing kill you!”

“If I don’t do something it’ll kill them!” he yelped back, voice raw.

The villain tripped Iida as he kicked, causing him to strike Kaminari in the chest.  He fell back and didn’t get up.

“Everyone get back!” Todoroki yelled.  Those who could grabbed those who couldn’t.  The temperature dropped.  “Redirect this.”  He blasted the villain back was a massive ice attack.  Frozen spears creaked and crackled against the concrete.  The villain disappeared behind blackened ice. 

Everything went quiet, apart from scattered panting.  Sharp dread flickered in and out, then was no more.

After a few seconds, All Might loosened his grip with a sigh. 

“We need to call the police,” he said solemnly.  In the dim light of one of Yaoyorozu’s lanterns, he looked down at his stained hands.  “And an ambulance.”

Oh right.  That’s my blood, Izuku realized.  He looked down at his chest and arms.  His nightshirt was destroyed, tattered flakes still hanging off him.  Long cuts dragged across his chest.  The hole in his arm still gushed.  Feathers splintered his skin.  He was soaked red.  This hurts.  This hurts a lot.  Involuntary tears pricked his eyes.

Ever so gently, All Might guided him to sit down.  That hurt too.  Tsuyu was wrapping up his arm before he even realized. 

“How long were you fighting that thing before we woke up?” she whispered.

Izuku didn’t answer.  He couldn’t stop panting.  Tiger went for the door.  All Might started cleaning and dressing the wounds on his chest. 

“Are you hurt anywhere we can’t see?”

I don’t think so, he tried to say through a cough.  They both plucked feathers as they went.  He flinched every time.

The other wounded were tended to by the less wounded around him.  Painful winces and apologies replaced panting.  Some crying too.  Both of Mina’s wrists looked broken.  The membrane connecting two of Shoji’s arms was torn.  A few people pulled glass from the broken light from their feet.  Uraraka, Kaminari, and Sato were unconscious.

“That.  Was so much freakier than the drawings on the news!” Kirishima broke the silence.

“Either our teachers are shit at describing crap, or the police need new artists,” Mineta commented.  A large gash on the back of his head cut a space between his hair balls.  Sero held a cloth to it.

“No kidding,” he added quietly.  “Sure as shit didn’t picture that from the feathers.”

“Todoroki,” Tokoyami called.  “Did you leave that thing breathing holes?”

“Should I’ve?” he answered blankly.  He iced over half the shelter.  The edge of it was just visible from the few lights.  The chill stung Izuku’s wounds that had yet to be covered.

“Young Todoroki, could you please melt the door?” Tiger asked.  He still had Eri in his good arm.  She stopped crying at some point, but barely blinked as she stared into space.  The boy got up without a response.  He didn’t look hurt at least, just tired.  Frost retreated from the blast shield that was the shelter door.  The loud buzz it made as Tiger opened it made everyone flinch.  “Let’s all get out of here,” Tiger ordered.  “I don’t want you kids anywhere near that villain, even if it is contained.”

“Yeah, we owe you, Half ‘n Half,” Sero said.  A few people whooped weakly in agreement, before they lined up to head above ground.

Izuku was one of the last to stand, still trying to get his breathing back under control.  He knew this was normal for someone who just lost a lot of blood, but that didn’t quell his anger.  He felt pathetic. 

I’ve faced villains before.  Why couldn’t I beat this one?  A tear dripped from his chin as Tsuyu and All Might helped him to his feet.  Todoroki waited by the door, his expression just slightly softer than normal.

“Just take it, easy my boy.  We’ve got you.”

The entire bottom of his right foot was raw from the villain’s spike.  Even the slightest bit of weight shot pain up his leg.

“I can carry you, ribbit,” Tsuyu offered. 

Izuku ran through a list of possible arguments he could make to let him walk himself.  It wasn’t long.  The others took their lights up the stairs with them, but the brightness stained his vision.  He tried to blink them away, shaking his head as well.  But no matter what he did, one wouldn’t go away.  It got brighter.  Izuku looked forward.

From the black abyss, something glowed.

“We, we have to move!” he shouted.  All Might and Tsuyu caught on quick, the latter hauling him up towards the door. 

“Todoroki come on!” All Might urged as they passed.  But the other boy stood his ground, already adding extra layers of ice.  He walked closer.  The glow got brighter.  Something sizzled.

Izuku broke from Tsuyu’s grasp.  He Full Cowled back to his friend, tackling him away from the glowing spot.

Fire.

No…

A massive plume overtook the shelter.  Izuku and Todoroki hugged the floor beneath it.  Heat licked their backs.  Flames flowed like liquid over the ceiling.  The villain wailed until neither boy could hear.

Once the flames dissipated, Izuku jumped up to face it.  Still panting and favoring one leg, but he faced it.  It slammed its boney spikes into the floor, and raised its shaking body of its feet.  The creature snarled out smoke, only just visible from the stairs light. 

No! Izuku thought at it, shaking his head.  Both of them crouched, wheezing and ready.

“Midoriya, stay back!”  Todoroki jumped in front of him and tried to bury it in ice again.  The villain howled, countering with another barrage of fire from its mouth. 

“No!” Izuku cried, voice cracking.  His stomach felt empty and heavy.  Tears threatened to return.  The dread was his own

The villain turned and bolted up the stairs on its crooked wings. 

“No!” Izuku screeched after it.  If Todoroki called after him, he didn’t hear it.  He jumped up the walls with his quirk.  The creature barreled through his friends, trampling some, and knocking back others.  Their quirks did nothing against it.

At the top of the stairs, the huge mass crawled through the tiny laundry room window in a flash.  Izuku dove after it, scraping his hips on broken glass.  Someone yelled after him.

The villain galloped towards the trees. 

“Get back here!” Izuku grunted, hot on its heels.  Everything ached.  He dug his feet into the ground, One for All howling in his ears.  The villain ignored him.  He could smell the smoke it breathed.  It was so close.  Izuku channeled everything he had into one last jump.  He reached out.

And right before his eyes, it vanished.

NO!  Izuku fell into the cold grass.  After catching his breathe a moment, he sat back up.  Shaking, he looked down at the cluster of feathers in his hands.  Black and brittle, they left dusty marks on his bandaged hand.  He gritted his teeth, and threw them to the ground.

“Damn you!” he screamed.  

“Nerd,” Kacchan barked behind him.  “Get back inside.”  Izuku didn’t look back.  Kacchan pulled him up by his arm.  “You’re bleeding out and it’s freezing out here!  And that damn villain might come back!”

“I, I have to stop it.”

“You can throw a pity party inside now move!”  He shoved him forward.  “Why don’t you be the goody two shoes everyone says you are and actually go help!”  They scowled at one another for a moment.  Kacchan had no visible wounds.  But his nostrils were flared from fear.

Someone cried in the distance.  Back at the dorm.  Izuku stood up, then ran back.  More than one person was crying.

Izuku was so dead-focused on the fleeing villain, he hadn’t noticed the chaos it left behind.  Anyone who hadn’t been injured before was now.  His friends were scattered around the common room tending to one another’s long, deep lacerations.  Iida and Yaoyorozu joined the other unconscious, the latter with a visible head wound.  Dark Shadow hovered worriedly around Tokoyami and Sero while they pressed cloths into one another’s shoulders.  A chunk of flesh hung loose off Ojiro’s tail that he tried to tie down.  He couldn’t see Tiger or Eri anywhere.  Kacchan grunted beside him.  Blood tracked back to the laundry room.  There was more screaming there.

Izuku followed it blindly, but stopped short at the door frame.

He registered All Might first.  Then Aoyama and Kirishima, on the verge of tears.  All three were crouched over, pressing against a raised mound of blood.

Hagakure.

There was a long gash from her shoulder down to her stomach.  It took all three of them to put pressure on the whole wound.  There was so much blood.  It made her crying mouth visible.

“Hush, my girl.  It’s alright, it’s all right,” All Might cooed shakily to her.  “Just a little longer.”  An invisible hand outlined by blood desperately grabbed at his trembling wrist.

Unsure of what else to do, Izuku sat down, and took it.

They passed two ambulances on the road back to U.A.

We should have let the villains go, Shouta despaired.  The emergency signal hadn’t gone off until the warehouse was secure.  Damn, I hate being right sometimes.

Passing streetlights periodically lit up his colleagues’ faces.  They weren’t happy about his hostile takeover of the mission.  Wisely, none of them tried to call him out since they got in the car.  He’d apologize once he knew his kids were still alive. 

He wanted to call.  But they were only a few minutes out.  And what if the fight was still going?  The ambulances were good, but not a sure sign.  Shouta tapped his knee with his middle finger. 

Then there’s the question of who’s in them.  Damn brats.  Please be okay.

The car swerved suddenly.  Shouta grabbed the hand rest as he tried to maintain his balance.

“What the hell was that?” he called to the driver.

“Somebody standin’ in the middle of the road, looks hurt,” she answered, pulling over.

“Dammit,” Shouta and the others mumbled at the same time.  He and Blitz jumped out before the car stopped completely.  A light drizzle peppered their bodies.  U.A.’s perimeter wall was in sight.  Shouta gripped his capture weapon.  It could be the villain, but it could also be one of the kids.  If this is Midoriya I swear to God…

Blitz shined the flashlight on her bracer towards the darkened segment of road.  Behind them, the other two closed the car doors.

A figure limped into the light.  Shouta flinched.  A bloodied girl in a skirt, dragging various tubes that rattled against asphalt.  One of her feet was backwards.  She cradled an arm that was just barely connected to her shoulder by a few tendons.  When the light hit her face, she cried out, painfully but with a smile, revealing sharp fangs.

“One of yours?” Blitz questioned.  She held stiff between her instinct to help the wounded and her training to hesitate given the circumstance.

Shouta grunted.  “Toga Himiko.  League of Villains.”  The others stepped into formation.  “Shapeshifter,” he hissed.  Blitz and Silhouette raised their fists.

“And she’s hurt real bad,” Vitals barked at them, stepping forward.

“Could be a trap,” Silhouette countered.  “She’s armed.”

Toga sniffled, then reluctantly dropped her mangled arm.  She struggled to undo her mask with her one good hand.  If fell to the ground, and then she went for her syringe harness, smiling through gritted teeth.

“Fine, we get it,” Shouta relented.  I don’t have time for this.  “You deal with her.  I have somewhere to be.”

He didn’t wait for his colleagues’ acknowledgement.  Though the chilled night air, he sprinted for the perimeter wall.  If the emergency siren was still active, he would have heard it.  Hopefully that was a good sign.  Along the wall he ran until he reached a close enough tree.  He jumped, pushing off the tree over the top.  A brief series of beeps went off; the sensors scanning for the teacher pass in his pocket.  He kept running.  The dorm building being in the center of campus and furthest away from the perimeter was a benefit until that particular moment.

The heroes and cops jumped to attention once Shouta cleared the tree line.  They only slightly relaxed when Cementoss called them off.

“Kids are inside,” he said.  Shouta would have ran by him whether or not he knew the other man wouldn’t take offense.  He only stopped once he was in the common room.

It took him a second to register that his students made up a minority of the crowded room.  Young pros stood around the group of kids clustered close together on the floor.  Only seven of them.

“Aizawa-sensei…” Sero acknowledged.  Aoyama, Jirou, Koda, Krishima, Mineta, and Todoroki looked up at him.  Bandages dotted their skin.  Their eyes were all wide, but blank.  “…  The villain got in.”

Shouta relaxed his shoulders, and slowly opened his arms.  Mineta was the first to accept the rare offer, the short boy crashing into his legs.  Kirishima sandwiched Jirou to his chest.  Koda, sniffling, only used one arm, the other cradling his shaking bunny.  Aoyama hugged one of his arms from the outside.  Todoroki walked around the huddle, and just leaned against Shouta’s back. 

“This isn’t your fault.  I know it’s not,” he assured the children.  The pros around them looked up at the ceiling.

Jirou keened.  “But I should of heard-”

“Hush.”

Over their heads, he saw Bakugou watching them from the couch.  He looked simultaneously angrier and not as angry as usual.

That makes eight.

“Where’s everyone else?”

“H-hospital,” someone whispered so quietly he couldn’t recognize the voice.

A little whine from behind him.

“E-Eraser!” Eri wailed, a little toy that looked like Midoriya’s costume squeezed to her chest.  Hizashi trailed from the kitchen behind her, still in pajamas with his hero gear again.  The others stepped aside so she could run into his arms.  Shouta scooped her up and held her close, murmuring little words of calm while he combed her hair with his hands.  He kissed her once on the top of the head. 

“Are you hurt anywhere?”

“N-no,” she mumbled while shaking her head.  “Bu-ut Deku got hurt re-really bad!”

To Hizashi, “How bad is ‘really bad?’”

“Villain slashed his chest and arms.  He lost a lot of blood, but paramedics said it wasn’t life threatening,” he answered.  He fiddled with the dials on he speaker nervously.

“And the others?”  Eri slowly relaxed in his arms.

Hisashi swallowed.  “We don’t know yet.  A couple of ‘em were unconscious, but Hagakure…  Gah…  Yeah, it’s bad.”

Shouta took a deep breath before he continued.  “What happened to All Might and Tiger?” 

“Rode with the kids to the hospital.”  He rubbed the back of his head.  Shouta rocked Eri slightly.  Out of the corner of his eye, the remaining students resumed their huddle.

“Shouldn’t the Hound be talking to them,” he said, gesturing with his head.

“…  He’s with Midoriya.”

“Does the hospital not have their own counselors?”  He looked down at Eri’s problem child lookalike toy. 

“No, here.  Main building’s bunker,” he explained.

“What?  Why?” Shouta asked, head snapping up.

“…  Nezu doesn’t think it’s safe for him to leave campus yet.”  His friend looked sheepish.

If that’s a direct quote, ‘yet’ has a lot of possibilities.  Time to go to work.

“Eri.”  She rubbed her nose and looked up at him.  “I have to go check on Midoriya.”

She slammed her face into his shoulder.  “Don’t go!” 

“Kid, I have to.  It’s still dangerous out and I need you to stay somewhere safe,” he reasoned.  Shouta tried to put her down.  Her tiny fists gripped his costume tight.

“The bad guy got in before…”  And wasn’t that a slap to the face?

“Kid, come on.”

“No!” she cried.

“I’ll watch her,” Bakugou spoke, suddenly next to them.  Shouta eyed him up and down.  He was the only one who seemed to be completely unhurt.  Physically at least.  He didn’t make eye contact.  “No villain could ever touch me.”  He said it like it was a burden.

Gears turned in Shouta’s head.  ‘Everyone got hurt but me and I need to make up for that,’ Bakugou meant.  Midoriya wasn’t the only one who needed an easy confidence boost.  But Midoriya he wasn’t.

“Can you handle it?” Hizashi asked skeptically.

“I’m not gonna cuss at her if that’s what you’re saying,” he snarled back.  Then sighed.  “I’ll make sure she’s safe.”

“But can you make her feel safe, is what we’re asking,” Shouta elaborated. 

Bakugou squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, before finally looking into Shouta’s.

“I’ll try,” he growled.

Shouta was almost taken aback.  He looked to an equally shocked Hizashi, then back to his student, and finally, at Eri.

“Do you think you’ll be okay with Bakugou?” he asked her.  She stared at her Deku toy.

“Deku trusts him…” she began softly.  Bakugou winced.  “I can trust him too.”  The boy in question opened his arms without prompting, expression unreadable.  Eri still gripped Shouta’s shirt.  “Come right back, okay?”

“Okay,” he replied with a little smile.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

Bakugou carried her back to his spot on the couch, where he resumed his contemplation of the window while Eri made herself comfortable in his lap.  If there weren’t greater priorities, Shouta would have snapped a photo.

Hizashi filled him in on the details of the attack on the jog to the main building.  Or he would have if they had any details.  They had no information beyond that the villain somehow got into the shelter, and used a quirk to keep everyone but Midoriya asleep while they fought.  The night in the rain pounded through Shouta’s mind.  He had to face that hellspawn alone.

In addition to the shelters under every dorm building, the central towers also had a large bunker to house the students in the event of an attack during school hours.  That required it to be larger than the auditorium.  And it was one of the worst places on campus to be.  Lights inside were harsh and all-encompassing.  It made it feel bigger than it was; Shouta felt like he was shrinking once they went in. 

Cementoss must have made the little cube room in the corner to counteract that feeling.  Nemuri guarded the doorway.  She looked to the two without a word.  She was crying.  All Might’s detective friend stepped out before they went in.  Something about his face told Shouta that he was going to have to break his promise to Eri.

He didn’t bother bracing himself before he walked in.  He knew it was going to be rough.  And he was right.  Midoriya looked like a piece of taxidermy.  His eyes were glassy and still while Recovery Girl finished bandaging his arm.  Hound Dog sat next to him, one paw holding a washcloth to the boy’s forehead, the other firm on the boy’s shoulder.  He must have tried to struggle before.  What little skin wasn’t wrapped up was an angry red.

“He has a fever,” Recovery Girl explained, not looking up from her work.  “Not even an hour after and the marks on his chest were already in the early stages of infection.  Should be okay now but I told the detective to add that to the quirk list.”

Shouta twitched with anger.  The villain tricked him away and his kids almost payed the ultimate price.  Some godforsaken corner of his brain reminded him that he didn’t yet know the others’ conditions, so that might still be on the table.  He shelved the discussion of the villain’s intelligence for another time.

“I’m gonna step out,” Hizashi whispered.

Shouta grunted in acknowledgement, before sitting on the ground.  He heard his two friends whisper words of comfort to one another.

Midoriya didn’t react.  Shouta recognized the blanket and little stuffed toys the kid had been carting around lately.  Regression.  Returning to childish things for comfort in the face of trauma, he thought robotically.  Though the All Might toy might just be a surrogate for the real thing.  The others must be really bad for the man to leave his favorite behind like this.

“Did they tell you about the DNA connection?” Midoriya’s raspy voice suddenly asked.  His position hadn’t budged.

“…  Yes,” he replied quietly.  Most of the teachers knew.  Mystery aside, it was still school policy for them to be informed if a student had a potentially hostile family member.  But Midoriya didn’t know that they knew.  Shouta was going to have some words with Nezu after this.

Midoriya hesitated.  “It had another quirk…”

He suddenly knew where this was going.

“It could breathe fire,” Midoriya whimpered, completely drained.  Recovery Girl finished with his arm, and gave him space.  Hound Dog followed.

Shouta watched a dozen or so potential follow-up statements die on the kid’s lips.  At that moment, he wasn’t one of the brightest in a crop of future heroes.  He was a victim.  A scared, traumatized child.  Powerless to stop the tragedy that befell him, and the one yet to come. 

Hound Dog placed one of the toys into Midoriya’s lap.  Shouta offered a hand.  Both were ignored.

“…  My dad can breathe fire.”

Chapter Text

“So…  You’re sending me away?”  Izuku looked up from his makeshift sleeping area at the principal sitting on Aizawa’s shoulder.  The low light emphasized their somber expressions.

“Unfortunately, last night’s events proved that our campus is not as secure as we once thought.  We were unable to keep the villain out, so our next move is to keep you away,” Nezu explained.

“You said there was a delay between leaving Jakku and the start of your illness,” Aizawa elaborated.  “If we can keep you a couple steps ahead of it, we, can buy time while it looks for the trail.”  There was a pause where the word ‘might’ would go.  He wasn’t wild about this plan either.

“What about the others?  What if it attacks again while I’m not here?!” Izuku asked desperately.

“That is very possible.”

“You didn’t make much of a difference while you were here, anyway,” Aizawa countered flatly.

Izuku jumped up to argue.  “I won’t abandon my friends!”

“You’re putting them in danger by being around them!” Aizawa snapped.  Izuku recoiled.  He balled his fists and opened his mouth to talk back, but nothing came to him.

Nezu raised a paw.  “We aren’t trying to accuse you of anything.  You are the victim in this case, after all.  But the fact of the matter is that this villain has targeted you specifically, and is willing to harm others to get to you.”

Izuku dropped his gaze.

He’s right…

Those who never went to the hospital met Izuku outside, flanked by Hound Dog and Midnight.  The way they ran to him, they must have already been told.

“Midoriya!”

“It’s not true, right?”

“They can’t seriously be doing this?!”

Kirishima, Mineta, and Sero reached him first.  They and half the others were still in pajamas.

“It’s true…” Izuku said with an exhausted smile.  “The villain’s only after me.  If I go, it won’t come after you.”

“But what happens when it does come after you?” Jirou asked.

“Principal Nezu said there will be heroes guarding me, and I can still fight.”  He tried and failed to make a fist with his bandaged hands.

“There has to be a better option than this…” Todoroki remarked lowly. 

“If we had one, we’d be doing that,” Aizawa, dressed in civilian clothes, said to the group.  He looked off without his capture weapon.  Chilled silence followed.

“Can we still text you?” Mineta suggested.

“Afraid not,” Midnight answered.  Aizawa held up Izuku’s phone for emphasis.

“Well, will you guys send us updates about what’s happening?” Kirishima asked her.  Both shook their heads.  Izuku adjusted his backpack strap.

“Do you…  Do you even know where you’re going?” Koda questioned.

Izuku looked off to the side.  Aizawa and the other teachers kept their mouths shut.

“Classified…” they all sighed. 

Everyone except Aoyama.  He stared at his feet while twirling his fingers until that point.  With a sniffle, he rushed to wrap his arms around Izuku’s neck.  He stiffened at the unexpected gesture.

“Fais attention s'il te plaît,” he whispered desperately.  A wet spot formed on Izuku’s shoulder.  The others surrounded them in seconds.  He tensed on reflex.

“It’s gonna be, it’s going to be okay, guys,” Izuku tried to argue.  Some pulled back to look at him.  “I’m just going to be away a while.  It’s not like you’ll never see me again.”  He regretted his words immediately, which was a millisecond before he was again engulfed in another hug.  For once, Izuku was one of the only people not crying.

“Alright,” Aizawa interjected.  “We better start moving.  Train to catch.”

Izuku nodded, and his friends reluctantly stepped aside.  The other two teachers came up to him as he passed.

“You be good out there, okay bud?” Midnight said, putting her hand on his cheek.  Behind her civilian glasses, her eyes were slightly red.  “Do what you’re told but don’t take any shit.”  She pressed his cheek with a newly formed fist.

Hound Dog leaned down so their eyes were level.  “Good boy.  Very good boy,” he said softly.  He patted Izuku’s head exactly twice.

Izuku shuffled past them towards the parking lot with Aizawa.  A chorus of goodbyes followed behind him.  He dared not look back. 

The bright, clear day contrasted the tension in the air.  They cast long shadows across the green in the still-rising sun.  Frost lingered where the light had yet to reach.  Izuku carefully stepped around puddles of black ice his teacher seemed to ignore.

“Where’s Eri?” he ventured.

“Asleep back at the dorm with Yamada,” Aizawa explained, elaborating after a pause.  “She threw a tantrum when we told her, and almost activated her quirk.  Kayama had to put her to sleep.”

Izuku sighed, and frowned deeper if that was even possible.

“Hey nerd!” Kacchan barked from behind him.  Izuku had barely noticed he wasn’t with the group before.  He paused to hear him out.  “About a week before the teachers found the villain, I found a black feather inside.  I thought it was fake, and didn’t tell anyone,” he said quickly.  Then, he inhaled so sharply is sounded like a hiss.  “I’m sorry.”

It took a moment for the words to register, another for Izuku to realize that they didn’t have the time to wait for his emotions to catch up.

“It’s okay,” he said weakly.  “It doesn’t matter anymore.  I forgive you.”  He wasn’t sure if that was true or not yet.  Kacchan’s mouth snapped shut with an audible click. 

“Go back to the others, Bakugou,” Aizawa ordered.

The other boy just stood there, hands balled at his sides and nostrils flaring.  The familiarity was comforting, in its own way.  Izuku looked his former childhood friend up and down, wanting to remember the moment.  He gave him a sad smile, before turning back to the path.  The harsh stomping he expected never came.

The car they took was a modified minivan; several features of an armored vehicle packed into something that could blend in with traffic.  Izuku passively tapped the tinted window once he sat down and wondered if it was bulletproof.  Granted, that didn’t matter much in a world of superhuman abilities.  Butterfly probably had something to counter it.

“What about butterflies?” Aizawa asked from the front.  Of course he had been mumbling again.

“Butterfly, the villain,” Izuku clarified.  The car started moving.

“That’s what you’re calling it?  Why?”  To someone who didn’t know Aizawa, he would have sounded annoyed.  He probably still was, but felt keeping his distressed student distracted was more important.  “Four wings?”

“That, I guess.  And it’s at the center of a butterfly effect.”  His teacher’s silence prompted him to explain further.  “It started with two people murdered in Jakku…”  They left the UA gate.  The towers shrunk rapidly with distance.  Izuku’s chest tightened.  “And now even more people are hurt or dead.”  And I might never see home again…

Aizawa hummed.  “None of this is your fault, you know.”

“I know.”  That’s a lie.  It’s after me.  He hugged his backpack to his chest.  The whole reason they had me say goodbye outside was so Butterfly would see me leave and follow.

And it worked.

Dread started building once they rounded the block towards the train station.  Izuku shrunk into himself while his eyes frantically searched among the buildings and crowds they passed.

Aizawa noticed.  “Put up your hood and scarf.”  Izuku complied, fingers shaking.  “Change of plan.  Meet us out front,” his teacher said into a communicator.  The robot driver changed lanes aggressively, causing Izuku to grip the armrest tight enough that his nails marked the upholstery. 

Sure would be nice if you told me the plan in the first place!

Aizawa scanned their surroundings as well.  The car was silent save Izuku’s pounding heart as they pulled up to the sidewalk.  A few seconds passed.  Aizawa put on his own face mask.  A few more.  Izuku felt a chill. 

The doors unlocked.  Izuku moved to get out but Aizawa held up his hand.  Slowly, casually, his teacher left the vehicle.  The walls were closing in.  Even with the front door open, even though he could still hear Aizawa’s voice outside, Izuku felt trapped.  His frantic breath warmed the scarf over his nose.  He wanted to curl up tighter, as if he could squeeze the dread away.  But if he looked away, Butterfly would strike.

His own door opened and he all but jumped out.  The dread spiked into a mini-attack that left Izuku stumbling.  Unfamiliar hands caught his shoulders.

“It sees him,” Aizawa stated like it was the most mundane thing in the world.

“Is that why the weird chest pain stopped?” the woman helping Izuku to his feet asked not so mundanely.  She was blond, and dressed in civilian clothing just like his teacher and three other people in a little huddle around him.  Though her voice rang a bell, he couldn’t place it.  An undercover cop maybe?  Another dread spike rattled his head.

“Let’s get moving.”  Aizawa took Izuku’s wrist and lead him towards the crowded building.  The rest of the entourage flanked his every side so with enough distance that they didn’t appear as part of the same group.  The dread poked and prodded all around his chest and back, making it hard to walk.  His teacher kept tugging him along without pause.  They pushed through the oblivious morning rush into the building and onto the loading platform.  The occasional twisted faces on passersby implied a wider range on the dread.

Just as they stepped on the train, and attack hit.  Izuku coughed and collapsed.  Electric ice shot up and down his spine.  It had been so long, he forgot how bad they hurt.  Aizawa caught him.  He hoisted him up in his arms and pushed his head into his shoulder.  The pain subsided in time for Izuku to hear the cover story pitched to a couple of concerned onlookers.

“It’s a form of epilepsy,” the blond woman remarked.

“Poor thing…”

“So this is normal?”

“Sort of.  It’s been worse than usual lately, so we’re taking him to the doctor.”

“You guys his parents?  You seem awfully young…”

“Oh, no, we’re step-siblings!” she defended.  “Mom and Dad couldn’t get off work today, so we’ve got him.”

“Well isn’t that sweet!  I hope that young man knows how lucky he is to have such a loving family.  My older sister would have just filmed me writhing in pain,” the stranger laughed.  The woman laughed with her.

Izuku wanted to gag he was so embarrassed.  “I can stand,” he growledand tried to push free.  Aizawa lowered his feet to the floor, but kept an arm around his shoulders.  Izuku rolled his eyes and looked away. 

And saw it.  Out the window among the crowd, a short dark figure, staring daggers into Izuku with glowing eyes from beneath a dark hoodie.  Dread hit hard.

“Aizawa-sensei,” he squeaked.  The man took one look before dragging his student by the arm towards the door to the next car. 

“Keep your head down,” he ordered.  One of the others flashed a badge at the attendant and she opened the door.  The rapid transition from the warm interior to the cold air outside and back to warm was jarring.  The party power-walked through the next car and did the same thing again.

Izuku stole a glance outside.  Butterfly flashed between the crowd as it gave even-paced chase.  It weaved around the masses rather than push through, slowing it down somewhat.  But not enough.  Every time Izuku looked out, it seemed closer than before.  Always just behind them.  Dread ebbed and flowed.  It was searching for him too.

Aizawa gestured to the others, who nodded.  The blond woman and a man with glasses pulled ahead of them.  Then, he pulled Izuku closer to himself.

“Follow my lead exactly.”  Knowing the plan would have been really helpful in that moment.

The car door opened to cold air again.  But this time, Aizawa forced Izuku to crouch down and slip onto the platform up against the side of the train.  The rest of the group kept going forward.  A duller dread than before returned.  Concern swept the crowd; they felt it to.

It lost us…  Izuku wanted to feel relieved, but instinct roared that they weren’t out of the woods yet.  Dread snapped away all at once.  It teleported.  Must be going to a better vantage point.

Aizawa jumped back onto a car and yanked Izuku inside.  His grip was so tight Izuku could barely feel his own shaking.  There was no time to catch his breath.  Dread returned, weak but building.  They marched back towards where they came from, but stopped at the door.  He and his teacher crouched at either side.

“What n-“

The car jostled slightly.  Some other passengers looked up for just a moment.

Izuku’s stomach dropped out.  Dread filled the void.  He felt his heartbeat behind his eyes. 

“It’s on top of the train,” he whimpered.

“Midoriya, look at me.”

Bang.

“I- I can’t breathe.  Why can’t I breathe?”

“Focus Midoriya.”

“Attention passengers-“

Bang.

“We will be departing shortly.”

“I-I ca-an’t-“

Bang.

“Midoriya, I need you to listen.”

“Please remain in your seat-“

“When I tell you, we are going to run to the next train over.”

Bang.

“-or hold on to the handrails.”

“No matter what happens, you do not stop until you are on that train.”

Bang.

“This is for your own safety.”

“Tell me you can do this.”

“I-I-“

Bang.

“Thank you for riding with us-“

“Get ready.”

Bang.  Screech.

“And have a pleasant day.”

“Now!”

Izuku bolted.  He knocked back one or two bystanders in his panic.  Metal twisted behind him.  As hard as it was to maneuver through the crowd, he dared not activate Full Cowl.  People screamed.  The doors ahead started to close.  Butterfly howled.  The dread ramped up, and Izuku was sure a lot of it was his own.  An alarm sounded.  The crowd frenzied.  Dread tightened.  With a last-ditch boost from One for All, Izuku lept between the shutting doors onto the train.  He landed on his stomach.  The train started moving a moment later.

Panting, Izuku sat up slowly.  He pulled the scarf down to get some more air.  The other passengers were too preoccupied with something outside to notice him sitting there.  Alone.

“…  Aizawa-sensei?”

Crash.

He and the others flinched back.  Right above Izuku, a spiderweb crack in the glass window caste a faint shadow over him. 

He jumped up.  Mount Lady dove for a black mass on the tracks that suddenly wasn’t there.  The station was already in the distance.  Izuku felled back to his knees.

“Excuse me, please.  Coming through.  So sorry, excuse me.  Hey, Midoriya,” another familiar voice called.  Detective Tsukauchi pushed through the crowd towards him.  He put a heavy hand on his shoulder.  “Hey, kiddo.”

“…  Hello,” Izuku reacted.  The onlookers turned away.

“Are you alright?  Hurt anywhere?”

“N-no.”

“Good, good,” he sighed.  “Quite a sprint back there.  Shame UA doesn’t have a track team, heh.” 

Izuku was no stranger to feeling uncomfortable with compliments, but he couldn’t remember the last time he felt offended by one.

“Aizawa-sensei said he’d tell me the full plan once we got on the train,” he said lowly.

The detective swallowed.  “He did, huh?  Well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but there’s only half a plan to tell.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”  Izuku had to hold back a sneer.

“It means that I only know my part.  I’m taking you to the station in Degoba, then handing you off to the next team.  Undergrounder called Silhouette, ever heard of her?”  Izuku shrugged.  Of course he had.  Tsukauchi took a deep breath.  “There’s going to be a bunch of them to escort you throughout the day.  I’m not sure how many.  Nezu and the investigation team are putting them together as they go to keep your villain guessing,” he whispered.

“What’s at the end?”

“…  I don’t know.  There might not be one.”

Izuku pulled his knees to his chest.  His eyes were drawn to the crack in the glass.

“Your teacher’s okay.”  He held up his phone, displaying a confirmation text from Aizawa. 

“I’m fine.  Just look after the kid,” it read.  But that could mean anything.  Aizawa said he was ‘fine’ after the USJ attack turned him into a mummy, and after he got stabbed in the back during the Precepts raid.  Not to mention, he was the only teacher Butterfly lead off campus before attacking again. 

“I thought, I thought he was coming with me…” Izuku mumbled.  He’s gone, I’m stuck with strangers, I’m away from my friends and family…  Heck they wouldn’t even tell me how the ones in the hospital are doing, he ranted internally.  He gripped the fabric of his pants tight.  And now, who knows where I’m going?

Tsukauchi smiled sadly.  “Change of plans.”

Tooru woke up with a weight on her chest.  Correction, it was pain harsh enough to feel physically heavy.  In contrast, her head felt uncomfortably light.

Ow…  What’s, what’s going on?

She let out a little involuntary whine before she opened her eyes.  The drywall ceiling gave nothing away.

“Hmm?  Oh!  Honey, I think she’s waking up,” a man exclaimed.  A chair screeched against the tile floor.  Before Tooru’s hazy mind could try and identify the voice, a familiar pair of glasses floated into view.

“P-Papa?”  Arms encircled her in a second.

“Hey, Princess,” Papa said with a suppressed sob.  He kissed her cheek over and over as he squeezed his face against hers.  Tears dulled his scratchy stubble.

“Darling…”

“Oh!  Sorry.”  He released her.  “I’m not hurting you, am I?”

Tooru giggled.  “No, it’s okay.”  He hugged her some more.  This time, she returned it.  Red marker outlined her fingers and tracked down her arm.  “Wait, I’m in the hospital!” she gasped.  The night’s events rushed back.  “Is everyone else okay?”

“Just woke up and you’re already worried about the others.  You really are a natural-born hero,” Momma said.  She jokingly pushed Papa back so she could lean down and give hugs and kisses of her own.  Momma had on the heavy eyeliner she wore when she wanted to make sure people looked her in the eyes when they spoke, though it was running slightly.  “You got it worse than everyone…”

“R-really?”  That’s good though right?  That mean’s everyone’s okay.  That no one died…  She tried to sit up, but winced at the sharp pain in her chest.  Papa lifted her head a little while Momma adjusted her pillow. 

“Better?”

“Yeah…” 

“Some of your cuts were almost down to the bone, and there were so many of them…” Momma described, words dulled by an unseen hand over her mouth.

Papa huffed.  “Doctor said it was like you tried to hug a cheese grater.”

Midoriya’s monster flashed before her eyes.  It had barreled up the stairs, trampling her friends as it went.  She’d tried to grab and weigh it down.

“Doctor!  We should call the doctor!”

“Right.  Right!”  He jumped up and all but ran out of the room.

“Hmph.  He could have just hit the button,” Momma teased, holding the little device next to the bed.  Then she sighed.  “I guess the worry hasn’t worn off yet.  We’ve been up all night…”

“What time is it now?”

Momma’s shoulders twisted as she scanned the room for a clock.  “Just after nine.  Hopefully there’s nothing to stop you from eating breakfest.”

She hadn’t noticed how hungry she was until Momma brought it up, but there were more important things to think about.

“Did they get the villain?” she asked hopefully.  Momma’s hesitation was all the answer she needed.  Tears forced themselves up.  “Damn it…”  Tooru buried her face in her inked hands.

“Oh, Pumpkin.”  Momma hugged her again, gently carding her fingers through her hair.  “It’s going to be okay,” she cooed.  “You’re safe.  All your friends are safe.  A lot of them are still here, actually.  They were so worried about you.  If the doctor okays it, you can all have breakfast together.”

“Who,” -she sniffed- “who’s here?”

“Hmm, most of the other girls I think.  A lot of the boys, too.  At least half your class…”  Momma trailed off towards the end, the gravity of the attack sinking in.  No run-of-the-mill villain could deal that much damage to a class of hero students.

“Is Midori here?”

“Who?”

“Midoriya Izuku.  He’s the one the villain’s after.  He got hurt pretty bad too, I think.”  Momma paused again.  “The short green-haired kid with freckles?  Lots of scars on his right hand?”

“…  No.  No, I don’t remember seeing anyone like that,” Momma responded.  “I’m sorry.”  Papa came back with a nurse a few moments later.  “Excuse me, did anyone named Midoriya Izuku, that’s his name right?  Midoriya Izuku come in with the UA kids?”

“Afraid not, Ma’am,” the nurse replied.

“Who’s Midoriya?  What’s wrong?” Papa asked.

“Do you have my phone?” Tooru interjected. 

“Princess, you need to-“

“I need to check where my friend is!” she snapped.  All three adults flinched back.  “I-I’m sorry…  I just need to know what’s going on.”

Wordlessly, Momma went to retrieve her bag from the chair in the corner, then returned with the phone.  There were dozens of text notifications.  She quickly scrolled to the top of the conversation, and the words at the top made her freeze:

“They’re taking Midoriya off campus.”

“Wh-what?” she breathed.  The message was followed speculation from her classmates about where he might end up.  The nurse tried to get her attention, but she couldn’t look away.  They suggested everywhere from Tartarus to I-Island.  Wherever Midori ended up, they’d have no way of contacting him.

Is he going to be alone the whole time?  Even if he has people to protect him, won’t he be lonely without his friends?  An intrusive though hit.  …  What if the villain gets him?  How long would it be before they found out?  She racked her brain for her last words to Midori, but came up with nothing.  She didn’t fight the tears that time.  The nurse waited while her parents hugged her again.

Izuku stepped off the seventh or eighth train that day.  The group the exited with him shuffled away into the crowd, and were replaced by new figures.  Two on either side of him subtly flashed their hero licenses.

Matador and Cold Cut.  A quirk to draw hostile attention and one to deep-freeze blades to make cuts hurt that much more.  From UA’s graduating class of three years prior, Izuku’s mind supplied automatically.  Any other circumstances and he would have cared.

His focus was more on the little juice stand they passed.  There was a sale on parfaits.  The stale vending machine sandwich he’d eaten a few hours prior sat like a rock in his gut.  He wasn’t sure if the pang there was hunger or nausea.  Either way, his babysitters would say no.  They had a schedule to keep after all.

The heroes led him into a middle car packed with kids in high school uniforms.  He caught some conversations about clubs they were getting out of.

Is it that late in the day already?  Without prompt, he stood in the middle of the car away from windows, just like all the other times.  His knees and the soles of his feet ached in protest of the routine.  He couldn’t remember when he last sat down.  Also like before, the escorts stood too close for his liking.

“Sense any-“

“No.”  With what little defiance he was allowed, he sidestepped away.  I know I should be grateful.  These heroes are taking time out of their own careers to risk their lives to protect me, he thought.  But they could at least let me have some personal space…  A tall man boxed him in from the other side.  The train started.

“A spokesperson for the Mt. Lady agency confirmed moments ago that the villain who injured her earlier today was indeed the Level S villain who has been repeatedly terrorizing UA students,” an announcer on TV declared.  Izuku kept his head down.  “She was said to have been involved in a mission along with several underground heroes to intercept the villain before it could strike a yet undisclosed target.  This attack joins the now seven confirmed incidents outside of UA attributed to the villain, the first being a double homicide in the northern village of Jakku.”

Izuku didn’t need to look up to see the next run of B-roll.  First was security footage of the train station.  Crowds of people scrambling to get away some something unseen, while the anchor would explain how the villain cut out footage.  Cut to the photo from Mt. Lady’s Instagram of her recovering in the hospital, a bandage over her eye and her hand wrapped in gauze as she smiled.  The villain pierced all the way through, then escaped.  Not vanished, ‘escaped.’  A deliberate word choice to somewhat ease worries.  Which was then undermined by a laundry list of symptoms and signs of the villain’s presence, particularly the stolen food and dread.  Izuku had been hearing it all day.

Then something new.  “The police have also announced that they have adopted the case moniker ‘Butterfly’ for the villain, a nickname given by one of the victims from UA for its four wings and being at the center of so much chaos.”

Aizawa, why?  It was definitely nausea he felt.  He squeezed his arms as close to his body as he could.  With a deep breath, he turned to the ceiling.  It’s fine.  I’m fine.  His nose ran a little even if his eyes didn’t.  He pulled down his scarf a moment to rub it.

“Yo, are you from UA!?” a boy in Izuku’s peripherals shouted.  He stiffened.  All eyes turned to him.  “Deku, right?  I saw you in the Sports Festival and the Jakku Showcase!  I’m a huge fan!” the shouting boy continued.

“Did you say Deku?

“No way!”

“What are you doing all the way out here?”

“Is it true you fought a Yakuza?”

“Are you coming back from a mission?  What happened?  Who did you work with?”

Almost a dozen high school uniforms swarmed him.  They flashed phones for photos and notebooks for autographs.  Matador and Cold Cut pretended not to pay attention.

So Izuku smiled and obligated the mob’s requests, hating every second.  He wanted it to be a release, a break from being shipped around like a package lost in the mail.  But between the calls of “Deku, this,” and “Deku, that,” he started to find voices from whom it was not the first time he’d heard the name.  There was Suzaku, the old captain of the Judo team who wouldn’t let him join.  Misani, who pranked him with a fake love letter two years prior.  And then there was Ito.  He wrapped an arm around Izuku’s shoulder and flashed a peace sign with his extended fingers for a selfie.  He was there when Bakugou told him to jump off the roof. 

Do they even remember me?  What they did to me? Izuku wondered, clenching his teeth even when he wasn’t smiling for the cameras.  Did they forget?  Or are they just hoping I did?  Misani got in close for her picture.  She tapped his head with her own.  The shutter sound effect from her phone made Izuku’s eyes twitch.  Do they even really like me or are they just looking to brag about meeting someone kind of famous?  Suddenly she turned and kissed his cheek before fleeing into the crowd, giggling all the while.  He just watched blankly.  People whooped and laughed.  Someone patted Izuku’s back a little too hard.

The next stop was thirty-five minutes out.

“Just got a text from Cold Cut.  Some fans recognized Midoriya on the train and asked for pictures.  Probably put them on social media,” Shouta relayed to Nezu.  The principal snapped a finger.

“Well, drat.  Did either she or Matador try to step in?”  His perpetually cheery voice masked frustration.

Shouta asked, then parroted the response a moment later.  “Negative.  Didn’t want to risk exposing they were on a mission.  Want me to say something?”

“No, no, they made the right call,” he said, hopping down from Shouta’s shoulder.  “Which means I have to go back and make a few calls myself.”

“You’re going to add more stops to the route?  How many?  What about Midoriya?”

“Probably a few, I’m afraid.  I don’t think he’ll be getting to the safe house until well after sundown.”  Nezu turned around and started walking back to the main building.  “I’ll see if I can get one of his escorts to procure him dinner!”

“…  Where is the safehouse?” Shouta asked.

The mouse-man stopped and looked back.  “Now Shouta, that would ruin the point of sending Midoriya to one of the most unknown places in the country.”  He smiled, and went back to walking.

Shouta frowned.  He knew that was going to be the answer.  But the wording threw him off.  The safehouse wasn’t the safest, or the best hidden, but “the most unknown.”  It made him uncomfortable.  He understood the reasoning; only the principal knew the last stop in case the villain could somehow read minds.  Nezu was an animal, and most telepathic quirks didn’t extend to animals.  But still, if something were to happen to Midoriya, how would Shouta know where to go to save him?  He liked to think the principal would open up if it came to that, but he couldn’t be sure.

“One thing at a time,” he sighed to himself.

Everyone in class 1-A not still in the hospital was back in the main building having dinner in the cafeteria.  That meant the only people in the dorm were the investigation team.  That now included Pathfinder.

The short man was staring at a corner of ceiling when Shouta entered the shelter.  He wore dark, semi-formal attire, a contrast from his light and outdoorsy hero costume.  His arms were crossed and his foot tapped.

“Anything?” Shouta asked in his version of a hopeful tone.

Pathfinder shook his head.  “Its time here extends past my quirk’s limit.”  He sighed heavily.  “And based on what your associates here told me, that means it was camped here at least seven hours before it attacked.”  His words hung in the stale air for several moments.  Shouta forgot his question for a moment. 

“S-so, we still have no idea how it got in in the first place?” Officer Sansa asked.

“Affirmative.”  Pathfinder said it like an apology.  He pointed up to the spot on the ceiling.  “The villain sat on the ceiling completely still, barely breathing even…  I-I’ve never seen such a still path…”

“Sure as hell wasn’t still at the station today,” Shouta remarked flatly to hide his own concern.  “Stalked us the moment we got out of the car, then hopped on a train to try and cut us off.  Wings out and everything.”

“This morning?  I thought you took him out during rush hour?” Pathfinder asked.

“Broad.  Fucking.  Daylight.  And people didn’t even notice until he rolled open the roof of a train like a can opener,” Shouta ranted.

“Is Midoriya okay?”  Pathfinder sounded like one of the students how worried he was.

“Physically, he got away.  Still had scratches from the night before, but no new ones.”

“Did people really not notice?” Sansa questioned.

“Nope.  Saw the thing on the train and nobody did anything,” Detective Tsukauchi confirmed.

“Hmm…  That confirms Paranoia Agent’s quirk was stolen, I think.”

“Agreed.”

“Who?  What?” Pathfinder asked.

“A villain who turned up dead a few weeks ago,” the detective began.  “His quirk was called ‘Out of Mind, Out of Sight.’  It made him invisible to anyone who wasn’t already expecting him to be there.”  He turned to Shouta.  “We suspected your friend back their might have taken it based on your testimony.

He let his head fall back.  “Goddamn it.”

“Now, what we still don’t fully understand is why it has been killing others on-mass, while only causing Midoriya discomfort from a distance,” Sansa added.  “Agent was an outlier in that most of the other victims’ quirk factors were still intact.  As is Midoriya’s quirk.”

“I think Butterfly was trying to set me up.  Get me off campus so it could strike,” Shouta said.  Pathfinder looked confused a moment, before the detective whispered an explanation about the name.  “It went after suspected League operations.  It wrote down a bunch of others around the crime scene, but it only attacked the ones connected to the nomus.  That narrowed down the next potential targets to two, both of which were far from UA.  The kind of interception raid we were going to conduct is textbook for me.  It knew I would be on that mission…  And it has my quirk.”  Shouta took a breath.  “It knows me.”

Pathfinder gulped.  “Alright, but how?  And why you and not any of the other teachers?”

“One, I probably have the best matchup against it.  I can disable its quirks with mine,” he explained.  “When I first faced it, even with all the others closing in on it, it kept its eyes on me.  It erased my erasure before I could do it first.”  He looked to Tsukauchi, who nodded solemnly. 

To Pathfinder and Sansa, he said, “What we are about to say does not leave this room, understand?”  There was a hardness Shouta hadn’t yet seen from the detective.  They nodded.  “The villain is a blood-relative of Midoriya.”  The other two men’s eyes shot wide.  “Multiple DNA tests confirmed it.  One of its quirks is fire breath, which Midoriya has said was his father’s quirk.”

Shouta continued before the others could ask questions.  “Midoriya’s father was also supposedly a hero fan, according to the kid himself.  It’s possible he was familiar with my tactics.”  Pathfinder turned his back on them, resuming his study of the ceiling.  “And even if that’s not the case, Midoriya knew what I was about on the first day of the year.  The info is clearly out there for people to find.”

“You said you faced the beast?”  Pathfinder didn’t look back.

“Yes.”

“Did it ever strike to kill?”

“Y-”  He paused.  Butterly lept at me, yes.  Even though it missed, it was on top of me.  Yet it only splashed me with mud.  And it circled around the others.  Only damage it dealt was to Ectoplasm’s clones.  If it knew my tactics, it would know that he keeps his real body far away.  Even Hound Dog.  After it slashed him and he fell on the ground, Butterfly stopped.  Shouta squinted.  But the kids!  It nearly killed them…  But it didn’t.  It redirected their attacks and put them down with dread.  If it wanted to stab them, it could have.  The worst injuries came after it was trying to flee…

Pathfinder stood stiff, and faced towards them.  “Where is the boy now?”

The digital clock on the car dashboard flipped to midnight.  Izuku suppressed a sigh.  The day felt like it lasted a week, and still wasn’t over.  The hour he’d been in the current car felt like an eternity. 

How much longer? he asked himself for what must have been the thousandth time that day.  The passing streetlights stung his tired eyes.  Fear of Butterfly prevented him from shutting them.  Every bush looked like the familiar black mass in the dark.  His only comfort, for lack of a better word, was the absence of dread.

He had his bang in his lap, ready to go, as soon as the car pulled into a parking garage.  He knew the drill.  Or did he?

“I can’t take you directly to your next guard,” the woman driving him explained.  “Something about compromised identity.  You’re going to meet them up in a room here…”  She didn’t like the idea either.  She rounded the ramp to the next floor.  “But hey!  Since this is an apartment complex, maybe they’ll have a bed for you to get some shuteye before they send you off.”

“Maybe…”

They found a parking spot, and the woman turned back to him.  She had an unmarked envelop in her hand.

“This is the info about which room you need to go to.  Don’t open it until you get inside.”  Izuku took it once she offered.  “Find a bathroom first, if you can.  Won’t be any cameras in there.”

“Okay,” he sighed.

“Okay.”  She unlocked the passenger door, and he shuffled out robotically.  “It was nice meeting you!” she called after him.

“You too!”  He’d already forgotten her name. 

The muffled sound of the engine didn’t return until he shut the door of the entrance.  The second-floor lobby was empty, his footsteps echoing throughout.  There was a public bathroom at least.  He stood over the handicap sink ask he tore the envelop open with his teeth.  Room 1194, the paper inside read.  It also said not to knock, but to slip the paper itself under the door.

A pang of fear struck him suddenly.  This was the first time all day he’d been alone.  Heading upstairs  should be the simplest task in the world, but what if something was wrong?  What if someone who wasn’t supposed to look after me intercepted me today?  What if I’m way off course?  They didn’t let me bring my phone, so I can’t check with Aizawa.  What if Butterfly got to whoever I’m supposed to meet first?  And it’s waiting for me in the apartment?  It took a moment to realize he was almost hyperventilating.  No!  What am I saying?  It’s just some stairs.  There’s no way something could have gone that wrong, right?  He splashed some water on his face and stared himself down in the mirror.  I can do this!

Against his exhausted body’s protests, he took the stairs up all ten floors.  The elevator was too much of a risk.  At least the stairwell was free of windows.  His knees were shaking by the ninth floor.  Standing around on trains all day really wasn’t good for him.  A little voice whispered that he could be up in a single bound with Full Cowl.  But then the cameras would see him.  If Butterfly didn’t get him, the laws against public quirk use would.  Even with his license, that was meant for fights and rescues, which jumping up the stairs was neither.

He reached his destination floor by the time he was done arguing with himself.  The complex hallway was painted solid yellow, with a citrusy head-sanitizer smell to match.  The occasional abstract painting lined the walls.  Despite the minimalism, or maybe because of it, Izuku got the impression the apartments were much nicer than his own.  Certainly bigger, given the amount of space between each door.  But given the height of each door, it was possible he was in specialty housing for people whose quirks made them tall.  And he hadn’t realized how big the building actually was when they pulled in.  His anxiety built each time he reached a turn and still hadn’t found 1194.  Distant voices he couldn’t see heightened it.  At ne point, he stopped to wait for a couple to leave before he rounded a corner. 

But once he did, there it was.  The door to 1194 towered over him like all the others.  Nothing visually separated it from any of them.  Izuku looked between it and the paper in his hand.  Fear of Butterfly on the other side still haunted him.  He hesitated a full minute.  But then, with a slightly shaking hand, he slipped it under the door.

It swung open immediately, and All Might yanked him inside.

Oh.

Izuku was too shocked at first to react.  His mentor knelt to put an air blocker beneath the door.  Then, he stood tall and looked back.  Izuku looked up at him with a wobbling lip.  Without a word, the man pulled him close.  One hand was at his back, another combed his hair.  Izuku melted into the familiar embrace, wrapping his own arms all the way around his hero’s thin torso.  Tears leaked silently.

“You’re safe now, my boy.”  All Might’s words were a quiet promise.  He knelt again to press his student’s head into his shoulder.

Izuku had no idea what was going on.  Why would they send him to be with All Might, was this just another stop, was he going to stay there, and what was to happen next?  But really, he didn’t care.  For the first time all day, Izuku felt like a person again.

Chapter Text

The cursor hovered over the call button for an hour.  Izuku looked everywhere around the dark room except at his laptop.  His knee twitched.  It really wasn’t a good idea.  Butterfly might track his location through the internet.  There wasn’t any evidence that it could do that, but there wasn’t anything to say it couldn’t either.  That might not matter though.  At exactly three o’clock, Izuku hit the button.

He recoiled at the ring, arm over his eyes and heart racing.  Why am I doing this?  The program beeped quietly.  A tiny part of him wanted to turn up the volume just a little.  Maybe then All Might would hear and try to stop him.  Why am I doing this?

The beeping stopped.  The call didn’t go through.  Izuku fell back on his pillows, face still covered.  He sighed shakily.  Of course he wouldn’t pick up.  Why would he?  Why did I even ca-

It beeped again.  Izuku sat back up, the light from the screen stinging his eyes.  His brain took a moment to catch up with what he was seeing.  He’s, he’s calling me back!  With an emotion he couldn’t quite identify, he answered the call.

“-nd, there we go!  He-ey, Bub, what’s up?”

“Hi, Dad,” Izuku sniffed through a face-splitting smile.  Even through the grainy camera footage, Dad looked the same as ever.  Short, black, curly hair crowned a thin head, his glasses sitting low on his square nose.  He had a bit more stubble than Izuku remembered, but then again, he hadn’t seen his face in months.  Still, no trace of feathers.

“Sorry I didn’t pick up right away.  I w-s talking in the hall with Frank and Jean.  You remember me telling you about the-em, right?”  The feed was a little laggy.

No idea.  Some coworkers maybe?  “I think so, maybe a while back?” he said.  Dad yelled something in English towards the door, and someone unseen shouted back.  “Is this a bad time?”

“No, no you’re fine…  I mean, it’s not a gr-eat time.  I was about to head out with the guys for lunch before the next tour,” he said, turning around towards the door again.  “Why are you calling now, anyway?  Isn’t it way after midnight where you are?”

“This was the time Mom gave me.  She said this is when you wouldn’t be working or sleeping…”  Izuku bit his lip.  His father didn’t break eye contact.  “Mom…  She said you were gonna call…”

Dad smacked his forehead.  “Ah, dammit, did we have something set up?”

“No.  Mom just said you said you wanted to talk to me…”

“Sorry.  Sorry.  I wasn’t sure of your schedule in all this mess and didn’t want to interrupt you,” he apologized. 

Izuku decided to believe him.  “So…  What’s up?”

“What’s up?  What’s up is that I nearly had a heart attack a couple of d-ys ago -ecause some l-natic is after my baby and the cops say I shouldn’t fly back there to get you.”  Dad talked with his hands.  He almost knocked over a styrofoam cup of something.  “I still think they should have sent you to me but no…”

“It portably would have followed me anyway,” Izuku mumbled.

“Where are you now?  Did -nything else happen?”

“I’m in a, a safe house,” he lied a little too quickly.  He wasn’t sure how much Mom passed on about All Might.  “What was the last thing that Mom told you?”  I haven’t heard from Mom in days.

“She said the villain attacked again, and that they were moving -ou,” Dad said like he was begging Izuku to tell him he was wrong.

“You’re up to date, then.”  On the raw events anyway.  Did they pass on any of the theories?  The DNA connection?  The fire breath?

“Bubby, you’re spacing out what’s wrong?”  Dad leaned closer to the camera.

Izuku swallowed the lump in his throat, and asked in a small voice, “Dad, are you okay?”

“Okay?  Of course I’m okay.  I, I me-ean, I’m real worried about y- but, like, I’m not sick or anything.  Do, do I look sick?” Dad rambled.

“No, you look fine, it’s just…”  Izuku desperately suppressed his own shaking.  “The, the villain…”  He trailed off.

“What was tha-at?”

“I thought it was you!”  Dad cocked his head to the side.  “The DNA tests said it was related to me and it has multiple quirks like a nomu and it could breathe fire an-“

“Bub, Bubby, calm down.  Deep breath,” Dad instructed calmly.  Izuku copied him, miraculously able to keep in his tears.  Dad hated it when he cried.  “Hey.  Look at me.  I’m right here.  On the opposite end of the world.  Perfectly safe.  You really think would come out this far after my quirk just to mess with you?”

“…  I don’t know.”

“And even if they did, I’m in one of the most densely hero-populated ci-ties in North America,” Dad exclaimed proudly.  Photos and autographs decorated the office wall behind him.  “Those villains wouldn’t be able to spit without hitting a hero.  How the hell are they gonna get to me, uh?”

Izuku shrugged.  Dad was just trying to get him to feel better.  He probably knew more about corruption statistics in America than Izuku did, but was expecting him to know none.  Still, it was better than nothing.

“Not to mention, fire’s one of the most common quirks out there.  And look,” Dad dismissed, then he cupped his hands around his mouth.  A faint glow peeked out between his fingers.  “S-ee?  I’m perfectly fine!”

“Okay,” Izuku sighed, not as relieved as he thought he’d be, but still relieved.  Maybe it was another delayed emotional reaction.

“Is that all you wanted to talk about?” Dad questioned. 

“Huh?  Um, I guess?”  Izuku scratched his neck and looked to the side.  The shiver was back.  “Actua-“

“Hey, while I’ve got you, let’s try and get your mind off it.  How ‘bout that Jakku sh-wcase, huh?  That was pretty cool!”

“Th-the Jakku showcase?”  What is he talking about?  Where is he going with this?

“Yeah the Jakku showcase!  You were amazing!”

Wait.  “Really?”

“Yes!  You were incredible!  Best -f the lot, and I’m not just saying that ‘cause I’m your dad!” Dad exclaimed, throwing his hands up.  Izuku sat up a little straighter.  “All those jumps and flips were some of the smoothest I’ve ever seen!  Have you ever measured how high you can go in a single bound?  Distance?  What about the wi- pressure from your punches and kicks?  Does it change the temperature like All Might could or are you not there yet?  And wh-t about that final impact!  What was up with that!?”

Fanboy rambling was one of the few personality traits Izuku knew for sure he got from his Dad.  Vaguely, he recalled loudly breaking down hero fights on TV early in the morning before school when he was little.  It was a little overwhelming to be on the receiving end of it for once.  He smiled softly nonetheless.

“The showcase really should have been at night, the lightning coming off you would have looked so much cooler!  I me-, you looked super cool anyway.  Heh, I may have accidently made my c-workers hate you I’ve made them watch the clip so many ti-imes.  Sports Festival all over again.  Sorry!”  Dad clapped his hands together apologetically, but his grin was infectious.

“That’s okay.”

“And hey, real talk for a second.”  His father’s animated gestures relaxed.  Izuku waited, attention held fully.  “…  You’ve come a long way these last couple of mo-nths.  Your hard work is obvious…  Gah, I just wish I was there to see it in person,” Dad said while looking off to the side.  Then back to Izuku, “I’m proud of you.  I really am.”

“Thanks, Dad,” Izuku hiccuped.  His Dad smiled back.  “What did you think of my speech?”

“Hmm?  What speech?”

Izuku’s smile dropped.  “The…  Speech.  The one that came after the showcase performance?”

“Uh, nope.  Must’ve gotten lost in the shu-uffle.  You know they don’t label those things clearly,” he said nonchalantly.

No…  “It was in the same video,” Izuku argued.

“No it wasn’t, Bub,” Dad chuckled.

“Yes it was, I saw it!”  And you did too!  Please don’t do this again…  “It’s a five minute video, first half is the performance, second i-“

“Hey, this is nothing to get worked up about.  You need t- c-lm down.”

“But-“

“No buts.  Just let it go,” he directed with an out-of-practice parent voice.  “I’ll dig for your speech and watch it when I have some free-e time, that better?”

You mean like the past month and a half wasn’t enough time?  Like how you said you were to call me?  “It’s not about that.”

“Than what is it about?”  He was annoyed now.

“The, the speech was when I started getting sick.  From, from the villain,” Izuku explained weakly.  “It was like a panic attack but worse.”

“Okay, and?”

He forced his face not to scowl.  “You can see me getting sicker in the video.”

“And what am I s-pposed to do with that?”

“I, I…” Izuku sputtered, eyes aching.  “I don’t know, but I thought you should know…  Have you-”

“Bubby, I am on the other side of the planet!  How the hell am I supposed to h-lp you?”

“…  Have you talked to Mom at all?” Izuku whimpered.  Dad sighed exasperated.  “I just haven’t talked to her in a couple days and I’m really sca-“

“I can’t believe you’re doing this right now.”

“Dad please listen.”

“No.  You are not going to start crying now,” Dad barked.  Izuku sunk further into the bed.  “You can’t keep doing this.  You can’t just cry every time y-’re a little stressed.  You’re sixteen, way too old for that.  And, you’re training to be a h-ro.  The villains aren’t going to sit around and wait for you to get yourself together.”  He paused for a breath.  “And think of your fans.  Heroes are s-mbols, too.  No one is going to be reassured by a guy who can’t stop crying.”

“I-I’m so-rry,” he whispered, another fat tear rolling down his cheek.  He rubbed it away quickly, only for another to take its place.

Dad sighed again.  “Look.  I really need to be heading out.  Why don’t you hang up, and we can talk some other time when you’re more together, ‘kay?”

“O-okay.”  Dad leaned back in his chair and waited.  “Go-odbye.”

“I love you, Bubby.”

“…  Bye.”

The call ended.  With shaking hands, Izuku set his laptop aside.  He sat up in the darkness for a while and tried to reign in his tears.  But he couldn’t.  They just wouldn’t stop.  He felt like he was going to choke on the snot leaking from his nose into his throat.  So he gave up.

Izuku took the pillow from behind him, and squeezed it against his face until it was wrapping around his ears.  And silently, he screamed.

Why doesn’t he like me?! 

It took too long for the sun to come up.  Izuku tossed and turned for hours, praying all the while for the sun to come up so he could get up and do something.  Even if he wasn’t an emotional wreck, he doubted he would have been able to sleep well.  The guest bed was too soft, too plush.  He sank a couple inches into the mattress.  The thick blankets crushed him.  But the room was freezing without them.  If he gave up and opened his laptop, nothing would stop him from checking the news.  He’d been in bed far too long.

The faint sound of talking came from another room.  Izuku wasn’t sure at first if it was real or part of a dream in his half-asleep state.  But they remained.  One of those voices was All Might.  Izuku sat up in the darkness, and rubbed away the crust of dried tears.

He’s sure up early.  Who else is here? he wondered.  He wrapped his shoulders in one of the blankets and got up to listen through the door. 

A little green light in the corner caught his eye.  The digital clock read 11:21 AM.  …  What?  Then why is it so dark?  Then it hit him: blackout curtains.  He didn’t need to check.  But still, he hated waking up late.

Back to All Might, his was the only clear voice upon closer listening.  The others barely registered, nor did what they were talking about.  ‘Butterfly’ came up a couple times.  Izuku leaned against the cold wood of the door.  Does the other person know I’m here?  Are they going to move me again?  Were they waiting for me to wake up?  Suddenly, he wasn’t so sure he wanted to leave the room.  But he didn’t want to be alone either.  But am I allowed to leave?  All Might probably would have left a note or something.  Briefly, he looked around the door.  And they didn’t let me bring my phone so I can’t ask…

Slowly, carefully, Izuku turned the handle, and stepped into the hall.  The rest of the apartment looked like it was still night out too.  The tall ceiling made him feel like he was shrinking.  Most of the decorations on the walls hung nearly twice his height which didn’t help.  He shuffled across the hardwood with his feet on top of the blanket as to make as little sound as possible.  He paused once more before peaking his head around the corner.

All Might sat at the kitchen table, in his yellow pinstripe suit but with plaid pajama pants.  The other voices came from a videocall on his own laptop. 

“And what made you choose to pursue Butterfly yourself?” he asked.  A girl’s voice answered, though between her slurred speech and the poor audio quality, what she said wasn’t clear.  But is sounded familiar.

He noticed Izuku a moment later, acknowledging his presence with a subtle nod.  Then he gestured under the table for him to walk around away the camera’s line of sight.  He picked up a large kitchen chair so it wouldn’t screech against the floor.  A different voice on the call said something about cooperation.  All Might pushed a notepad across the table.

“We’re interviewing Himiko Toga.  She encountered Butterfly,” it read.

Izuku cringed.  Of course she would have to be involved. 

“Please walk us through what happened leading up to your encounter.  How did you find Butterfly?” Tsukauchi, Izuku recognized, asked next.

“Wasn’t too hard,” Toga said cheerily.  Izuku and All Might both rolled their eyes.  “He wanted food, right?  But with all the excitement around him, probably didn’t want to go somewhere with cameras, like a store or warehouse.”  She giggled.  “So, I camped out in one of the neighborhoods near UA and waited for him to stop by!”

“Did you kill someone to get in!?” a female officer accused.

“Hey!  I’m not that stupid.  What kinda amateur do you take me for?” she hissed, but Izuku didn’t need to see her to know she was smiling.  He rested his chin on folded arms.  “Killing somebody would’ve attracted you bozos.  I found an empty place for sale and ordered a bunch of takeout.”  She was clearly proud of her master plan.  “Took a couple days, but Feathers caught on eventually.”

“That clearly didn’t go well for you,” Tsukauchi remarked. 

Toga giggled again, but that time lacked her usual edge. 

Izuku looked to All Might questioningly, to which he pulled a paper out of a nearby file.  A medical report.  Three deep lacerations on her right cheek, one deep enough to go through to her mouth.  Several more slashed her back and the back of her head.  One of her feet was twisted around backwards.  Izuku recalled being dragged away in the shelter.  She tried to run.  Her quirk was still intact, and her other wounds were treatable.  But suddenly, his eyes landed on the word ‘amputation.’  He went white as a sheet.  Her left arm was twisted around and broken so many times the doctors couldn’t save it.  Izuku wanted to throw up.

“We didn’t fight at first,” she began.  “I surprised him when I caught him digging in my food, but he didn’t come after me right away.”

“Why was that?”

“I didn’t get into his personal space, for one,” she teased.  Then a little sadder, “I think that’s what set him off.”

“Anything else?”

Back to sickly-sweet.  “I said hi and asked him his name.  Don’t think he get’s asked that too often, ‘cause he stopped and looked at me for a loooong time before he answered.”

“It, he, spoke to you?” the officer questioned surprised.

“No.  Literally that’s what he said, ‘no.’  What a creep, right?” 

You’re one to talk, Izuku thought.

“He did have a voice-changer quirk, though.  And a really shitty one too, that was funny.”  Something about her nonchalance made Izuku’s skin crawl.

“How do you know that?” All Might asked.

“Because!  It kept skipping around between really low and really high like it was computer puberty or something.  That’s what people with weak shifter quirks do when they can’t control it right but still wanna sound tough and scary.  Trust me,” she sneered.

Tsukauchi sighed.  “Getting back on track, did it say anything else?”

“He asked me who I was and what I wanted.”  She scoffed.  “I wanted to skin him for hurting my pore Deku-kun, but I couldn’t just come out and say that.  So, I just said I was a big fan and was trying to scope him out.  I invited Feathers to join me and he agreed.”

Izuku swallowed.  All Might creased his brows.

“There’s this big tree in the woods near the fence and you can get a really good view of the field behind the dorms.”  All Might subtly wrote that down.  “Make sure you check around there.  If I don’t get to use that spot anymore, nobody else can either!”

“Noted.  Back to Butterfly,” Tsukauchi said flatly.

“Hmph.  He didn’t care at all about all the juicy info I was giving about Deku-kun.  He kept saying ‘I know,’ ‘already know that,’ ‘anything else?’  So ungrateful.”  Her pause after that line left Izuku plenty of time to freak about what she could possibly know.  “But, I got a little…  Heated,” she purred.  Izuku gagged.  “I started talking about how we fell in love when we first met at the training camp.” 

Ugh…  Izuku buried his face in his arms.

“…  Deku-kun’s here, isn’t he?  I can feel his longing.” 

UGH.

All Might visibly flinched, though his expression remained tight.

“Focus, Miss Toga.”

“Hmm…  He asked how I could have been there, and then he realized that I must have been with the League.  Took him long enough.  It’s not like my real face is everywhere online.”  She got quiet again.  “…  He said I was bad.  His wings were hiding under his jacket before that, and he tried to grab me with them.  I stabbed him and ran and…”  There was the unmistakable sound of handcuffs rattling against a metal hospital bed frame.  Just one pair.  All Might’s face cracked with slight pity.

“So…  Am I to confirm he isn’t with your organization?” Tsukauchi broached.

“Fuck no.  He’s worse than us,” she spat with all the malice that could be packed into a cute school girl voice.

“Worse how?” All Might accused softly. 

“He’s in denial.”  That threw everyone off.  “Whole time we fought, I yelled that I hated him because we were the same, and only one person is allowed to kill Deku-kun…  He said he was nothing like me.  He said he ‘wasn’t a villain.’”

…  What?  Izuku turned to his teacher, who looked just as lost.

“After he, he broke my arm a bunch, he said he’d get me later…  After he ‘fixed’ everything,” she sniffled, then hardened.  “Th-then, he disappeared and left me there!  I’ll kill that bastard!  I’ll kill him!”  Toga cried and screamed.  New voices entered and called to sedate her.  The noise faded as whoever held the camera left the room.

“So, uh…  We’ll, we’ll review that footage, and meet back up tonight to discuss okay?” Tsukauchi prompted.  Murmurs of agreement came from the computer.

“Affirmative,” All Might answered evenly.

“Alright then.  Signing out.  See you later.”

“Later.”  He closed the call, the leaned back in his chair and rubbed his face.  “Holy fucking shit,” he mumbled in English.

“Yeah…  That’s…  That’s a lot to unpack,” Izuku agreed.  “So they found her by that tree?”

“Not quite.  Aizawa found her on the road the night Butterfly attacked the shelter,” All Might explained.  “She was on her own for at least eight hours.  Miracle she managed to hold out that long.”

“Is that how long Butterfly was in the shelter?”

“Aizawa told you?”

“…  Figured it out, I guess,” he said, slumping into his chair.

All Might hummed and sat back up.  “One hell of a conversation to wake up to eh?” he tried to joke.  “Did you sleep okay?”

“Yes,” he lied.  Theories about how his father could still be Butterfly flashed across his mind a mile a minute.

“I’d hope so.  You slept late enough,” he teased with a warm smile.

“So what happens now?” Izuku changed the subject.  “Am I going to be moved again?”

“Nope.  You’re stuck with me for at least the next couple days,” All Might beamed.  He reached across the table to ruffle his student’s hair.  Instead of leaning in, said student just let it happen.  Not to be deterred, the man kept talking.  “Obviously you can’t go outside, but you have free range of the apartment.  Food, books, TV, whatever you want it’s yours.  All I ask is that you put things back were you found them when you’re done, and maybe ask first if you want something from a high shelf.”  He gestured over to the living room.  Beyond the shelves filled with books and movies, there were a couple boxes on the coffee table.

“What’s in there?”

“Comic books,” he declared proudly.  He went over to the boxes and started digging.  “I got my collection out of storage.  Trust me, I used to hide from villain’s in my master’s house all the time and you can run out of things to do fast.  I’ve got a ton of Japanese trades of American stuff.  Remember Blue Beetle?  Pretty sure I’ve got the entire first run of Jaime Reyes, plus some Ted Kord stuff.”  He held up books as he went.  “If you see anything you like that’s not in Japanese I’d be happy to transla-”

“All Might why am I here?” Izuku cut in.  The man paused.  “I-I mean, I’m not unhappy to be here with you, but why, wouldn’t it be better if-“

“If you stayed in some sort of nuclear bunker?”  Izuku turned away and nodded.  “Well, the answer is that we’ve tried the bunker thing with the shelter back at UA, and it clearly didn’t work, so we’re going to try and hide you entirely.  And I’ve got to frankly embarrassing lengths to keep my name out of official documentation.  Legally speaking, Yagi Toshinori does not live here.  We thought Butterfly might be using police data to find his other victims, and this place isn’t in any databases!  Lots of other pros live here too, so we’re well-protected,” he tried to convince.

In any other circumstances, getting to see where All Might lived, let alone stay there as a guest, would have been a major highlight of Izuku’s life.  But he had serious doubts about the viability of this plan.  Butterfly was able to get inside and remain behind a door built to withstand an H-bomb; his teacher’s home was just that: a home.  A regular, if large, apartment in a regular building.  He couldn’t imagine any sort of crazy security system in place, even if a lot of pros lived there.  Izuku wanted more than anything to have faith in the adults looking after him.

He asked a different question.  “Yagi Toshinori?”

“Hmm?  That’s my name, my boy.  Did I not already tell you that?” he answered.  Izuku shook his head.  “Hmm…  Could have sworn I did…  I’m sorry.”

“S’fine…”

All Might bit his lip.  “You can call me that, if you like.  Yagi or Toshinori.  I don’t mind.”

“I, I think I’ll stick with All Might, if that’s okay,” Izuku said, picking at a loose seem in his pajama pants.  It was weird.  He hadn’t given much thought to his hero’s name before.  But that was huge, looking back.  And to learn it so casually…

“Of course, of course,” his teacher sighed.  The following silence was tense, though neither knew quite why.  “Well-“ he smacked his knees and stood, “-I’m gonna go change before I start making lunch.  Why don’t you get in the shower in the mean time?  Scrub off anything you might have picked up getting dragged all over town yesterday.  Wouldn’t want you to get sick while you’re stuck here, huh?” he suggested jovially. 

“I guess,” Izuku sighed, before rising himself.

“Any preferences for lunch?”

“No tha-  Nothing too greasy, please.”  My stomach feels off from all the everything. 

“Noted.”  He said it like he knew.  Izuku nodded and started walking away.  “Oh!  Do you want any help reapplying your bandages after?”

Izuku bristled, suddenly very aware of the wrappings crisscrossing his body.  “I-I think I can handle it.”  And he retreated into the guest room. 

The teachers packed a duffle bag of clothes to send ahead with All Might.  Izuku didn’t bother picked an outfit that matched.  Instead he dug for toiletries that weren’t there.  Dammit. 

The guest bathroom was bigger than his kitchen back home.  It was all modern, with white tile and silver trim.  The bathtub was separate from the shower and the size of a jacuzzi.  Little shelves and racks off to the side were stuffed with towels.  Izuku could only imagine what the master bathroom looked like.

A note tapped to the glass shower door read: Please feel free to use whatever you need.  There’s more soap & shampoo in the cabinet under the sink if you don’t like what’s out.  First aid stuff is under there too in a little red box.  Please ask for help if you need it.

All Might must have known Izuku would feel self-conscious about using his stuff.  He was equal parts grateful and embarrassed.  Even more so after he discovered that there were brand new bottles of his preferred hair products already in the shower.  Someone must have checked his stuff at school.  He wondered who.

Izuku made an effort not too look to much at his wounds as he peeled the gauss off.  He had scrapes all over, but there were five spots that needed to be rebandaged: his foot, hips, arm, hand, and chest.  His chest was the worst.  Again, he tried not to think about it.  Easier said than done.  Water stung little spots across his torso.  When he stepped out of the flow to shampoo his hair, the dripping warm liquid reminded him of how those points bled.

The only thoughts that came when he tried to distract himself were of Toga and Dad.  Toga, who ‘loved’ him because he bled.  Who lost an arm because she so desperately wanted to kill him before someone else could.  And then there was Dad.  Dad…  My father.  My father who is either a monster out to kill me or on the other side of the world trying to live vicariously through me.  Who only likes me for my quirk.  Izuku stuck his face into the water.  Why not both?  His tears joined the cascade running down his body.  No!  I’m tired of crying!

He shut off the water with a little too much force and dried himself with a towel so rough large patches of his skin came away red and raw.  He didn’t see a problem until the towel came back red too.  One of the stitches on his chest reopened. 

Dammit!  His gritted teeth were starting to give him a headache.  After quickly throwing on some pants, he dug out the med kit.  He held a fresh towel between his chest and knee while he worked on his foot.  One of Butterfly’s spines scraped multiple layers of skin away, which were further blistered by having to walk so much the day after.  His ankle was cut from being dragged away, but not at bad.  He didn’t bother with disinfectant. 

Foot bandaged, he moved on to his hips.  Both sides near the front were sliced when he jumped out the window after Butterfly.  The elastic of his underwear further irritated them.  They just needed large squares rather than wraps. 

His arms and hands were where things got hard.  His left arm below the wrist was stabbed between the bones, and his right hand was flayed from trying to move the spike.  The sort of chunked lacerations one would get from a cheese grater.  That was how All Might described Hakakure’s wounds.  He’d said everyone else was okay, but Izuku couldn’t shake the feeling he was being lied to in order to keep him calm.  Well it’s not working.  Izuku took the end of the gauss in his teeth, and slowly wrapped it around his arm with one hand.  It came out sloppy, but serviceable.  He decided to save his hand for last; he’d need it to finish his chest.

And to that, he finally let the towel down and looked in the mirror.  Eight slashes total.  Four at a time running parallel to one another and crossing the other for in a series of giant Xs.  They stretched from his collar bone down to just above the bottom of his rib cage.  Each one needed heavy stitches, which were now leaking blood in a few places.  Even like that it was clear they were deep.  They’d probably scar.  Izuku scowled, then bit the end of the gauss roll again.  Every attempt at a contortion to wrap it around his back brought new pain.  He could feel most of the chest cuts splitting.

Recovery Girl said that these ones were safe to get wet, didn’t she?

“Young Midoriya?” All Might knocked at the door.  “Are you alright?  You’ve been in there quite a while…”

“I’m.  Fine!” Izuku spat, and immediately regretted.  He dropped the guass from his mouth and lost what little progress he’d made.

“Are you having trouble with your bandages?  Would you like my help?”

Izuku sat silently.  No, I would not ‘like’ help.  I’m tired of being helpless in all this.  Can’t I do one thing for myself?  But what he would like didn’t matter much in the face of what he knew he needed.  So when he heard the squeak of All Might’s feet turning to leave, he forced himself to speak up.

“Yes.  I-I think I need help…”  He kept his eyes shut as his mentor walked in, though the concerned sigh, and the shift of the med kit.

“I know you hate this, being touched and treated like you can’t take care of yourself.  But if you work with me I’ll be done faster, okay?”  He spoke the way he used to talk children out of their hiding places after a disaster was over.  When younger Izuku watched those videos, he couldn’t understand why those kids didn’t run right up to the number one hero.  He opened his eyes to that hero crouching in front of him.  All Might’s cold blue eyes were disarming in their earnestness. 

“…  Okay.”  Izuku didn’t relax, but he accepted.

All Might doused a cotton ball in alcohol, and gently dabbed it over the slashes.  Izuku keened slightly at the sting, turning away to stare in the corner at nothing.

“I’m sorry,” the old hero whispered.  “Sit up straight, please.”  Izuku complied.  All Might had him hold the end of the gauss against his shoulder as long arms circled his torso with the rest of the roll.  “Let me know if it’s too tight.”

“It’s fine,” he mumbled.  Izuku tried to think of any other times someone else had to bandage his torso.  The only one he could think of was after Muscular, and he’d been unconscious for it.  Even then, most of the damage had been internal and the surgery scars were healed by time the first round would have needed to be changed.  Everything else just had to do with his arms.  By that thought, All Might finished.  Oh, that was fast.

“Give me your hand, please.”  All Might took it with such gentleness Izuku couldn’t help but finally look.  All Might’s hand was much bigger than his, so much so that is rested comfortably in the middle of his palm.  The dabbing of the alcohol didn’t hurt as much that time.  He let go a little too soon to bandage it.  “And, that should be it.”

Izuku flexed his bandaged hand a bit.  Not too tight, not too loose.  “Thank you,” he said quietly. 

All Might just hummed, then packed away the first aid kit.  He tossed Izuku a shirt, which he promptly put on.

“Did you get hurt in the last attack, All Might?”

“No, nothing to worry about.  Just a little cut on my heel from some broken glass.  Didn’t even need Recovery Girl,” he said nonchalantly.  Of course that wouldn’t be a big deal to someone who had his guts ripped out.  A brief pause, and then, “Hey, can I show you something real quick?”

“Uh, sure,” Izuku responded.  All Might led him back to the couch.  Something delicious in the air reminded Izuku he hadn’t eaten in twelve hours.  “What’s for lunch?”

“Grilled mackerel with tomatoes.”  Izuku’s mouth watered instantly.  But All Might first put a school binder in his hands.  Confused, Izuku opened it to laminated children’s drawings, which only confused him more.

“Huh?”  It was clearly fanart for All Might given crude crayon pictures of him appeared on every page.  It was nice to learn that the stories of him looking at most of his letters had some truth to them, by why show Izuku?

He chuckled.  “Look closer.”

Izuku flipped through more pages. He recognized the rough images of some more famous All Might opponents like Crab Hammer and The Palm.  But they were from a while back so the drawings must be pretty old.  Those fights happened when I was- oh.  He turned to a page with a All Might standing next to a smiling green bunny labeled in clumsy child’s writing “All Might Junior.”

“I made these…” he said with unsure emotion.

“Ha!  Took you long enough!” All Might laughed and patted his shoulder.  “You’re signature not obvious enough?” 

Izuku honestly hadn’t even registered the name written at the corner of each drawing, which was especially embarrassing considering it was his own.  He groaned and let his head droop a little.

“Where’d you even get these?”

“I keep all the fanmail I’ve gotten over the years.  A little after I started training you, I got curious and went back into the archives to see if you ever sent me anything.”  His pinched the binder closed.  “As you can see, there’s quite a bit!  And I keep finding more!”  He laughed that big boisterous laugh he used to in his hero persona.

“But why keep them all here?” Izuku whined.

“Because they make me smile.”  All Might’s response was so casual it caught Izuku off guard.  He looked down to a random page later in the album.  It must have been made when Izuku was a little older given the switch from crayon to colored pencil.  All Might stood triumphantly over Toxic Chainsaw, declaring that nothing could keep him down. 

“I don’t…  I don’t think Butterfly is my dad anymore,” the words tumbled from his mouth.

“Hmm?  Why so?”

“I, I talked to him last night.  Over videochat,” he sniffled. 

“…  Good talk?”

Izuku’s chest tightened, and he folded into himself.  He let out a frustrated little whine.  I thought I wasn’t going to cry anymore?  The hand returned to his shoulder. 

“Hey.  It’s okay to be scared.  To be upset.  You have every right to be.  I am too,” All Might spoke gently.  “But know that I am always here for you.  Whether you want to talk, need a distraction, or just someone to rant at.  You just need to say something.”  He wrapped the arm around his back and combed Izuku’s hair with his fingers.  He leaned back that time.

“Thank you,” he put simply.  He couldn’t meet his eyes however.

All Might gave him one last squeeze before standing up.  “So how ‘bout lunch, huh?”

Izuku smiled.  “Lunch would be good.” 

Half the class slept in their hero garb, and Minoru was no exception.  Well, he was an exception in that he wasn’t sleeping. 

Watch duty really blows.

Class 1-A was back up to eleven after Mina, Uraraka, and Shoji got back from the hospital, but the teachers still made them stay with the upperclassmen.  Not that it mattered.  The guy from 3-A who was supposed to be up with him was out cold in under twenty minutes.  And how would they stand up to Midoriya’s villain anyway?

Wonder how he’s doing.  I saw he got a bunch of hugs and kisses from cute girls on the train, the lucky dog…  Minoru stood up and stretched is back.  Class 1-A got banished to one side of the shelter.  Off to his left, Uraraka was sandwiched between Todoroki and Aoyama.  Lucky girl getting to snuggle with two of the class’s pretty boys.  But he knew the only one she had eyes for wasn’t around.  She was the first one to get back after Midoriya left, and she cried real bad.  He wasn’t in a place to judge though; he cried too once he was gone and nobody was looking.  I hope this isn’t some front for putting him in witness protection.  Midoriya’s a cool guy.  If anybody deserves to be a great hero and get the girl in the end, it’s him.

It was three in the morning.  His shift had another thirty minutes.  Minoru wasn’t sure if he’d rather be awake or sleep through another attack.  He sure as shit didn’t want to fight the psycho bastard again, but he’d feel awful if he slept through someone getting hurt.  He scratched absentmindedly at the bandage on the back of his head, and sighed.

Why can’t time speed up so this night can be over with?  He looked at the time again.  Twenty-eight minutes.  He exhaled annoyed.  Maybe a minute or two of Quisine Quest wouldn’t hurt…  He opened up the game on his phone, and after a couple seconds of silence on the loading screen, the main menu blared at full-volume.

“Shit!” he shout-whispered before immediately shutting his phone off.  Embarrassed, he looked around fully-prepared to either apologize and/or beg forgiveness for waking anyone up. 

But no one did.  Not a single reaction among the thirty-one students or three pro heroes.  Just snoring and breathing.  Everyone stayed asleep.

…  Fuck.

A muffled scratching sound came from the shelter door.  Minoru gulped.  Hound Dog had a panic button.  Pressing it would alert the whole school.  The short boy could see it in his paws.  But the teacher was on the opposite side of the room, and Minrou was frozen.  Scratches became creaks.

And who knows if the villain can cut that off like it does the cameras?!  Sweat flooded his mask.

Some heavy mechanism in the door shifted.

I’m not Midoriya!  I can’t fight that thing alone!

A hiss.

Minoru dropped to the ground, wrapped himself in a blanket, and tried not to piss himself as he watched the door.

A spike suddenly popped through the tiny crack between the door and the wall.  It came slow at first, then feathers burst forth like wax out of a blackhead.  A hand clawed at the metal.

Minoru slammed his eyes shut.  A quirk that lets it squeeze through tight spaces!  That’s how it got in without tripping the door buzzer!  He tried to think of Midoriya and his enthusiasm for new quirks as the horror movie going on at the other side of the room got the rest of its body inside.  Everything was silent except for the monster’s heavy wheezing.  No!  Get up, you loser!  It’s gonna try and kill everyone again!

Cautiously, he cracked a single eye open.  The thing was standing on the wall, looking down at some upperclassmen.  Its wings hid most of its body, but the two with the spikes moved closer.

Get up get up get up!

Almost delicately, it used the spikes to roll someone by their shoulder onto their back.  It paused, then moved onto the next person.  Then the next.

It’s…  It’s looking for Midoriya, Minoru realized.

Labored breathing got louder with every overturned face.  The erratic shadows it caste in the low light danced across Minoru’s eyelids.  He didn’t dare open them again.  The creak and crunch of the villain’s crooked wings were in his ears long before it got around the room to him.  He could only pray that it knew his body was too small to be Midoriya and it wouldn’t bother to check him.  Now if only he could stop shaking.

When Minoru was little, his dad found a dead rat in his car’s engine.  That’s what the monster smelled like.  The smoky, oily corpse of a dirty animal.  The sound of drool, he hoped it was just drool, falling onto the concrete rung right next to his ears.  That was better than the scratch of the boney spike that followed.  It took every aching fiber of Minoru’s being not to move. 

Please for the love of God just fuck off!  I’m clearly not Midoriya just move on!  Something touched his back, and he held his breath.  The villain loomed for a few moments, then hobbled away.  He couldn’t even sigh in relief.  Finding out what it would do if it knew someone was awake was not something he was eager to learn.

The heavy breath graduated to a full-on growl.  The villain was rougher in its examinations.  A hiss followed every sleeping body that wasn’t Midoriya.

What happens when it runs out of people?

Screaming.  Screaming is what happened.  Something that jumped between a crying child and a dying bear.  Minoru felt his ears were about to bleed.  It trashed its head and punched the wall with its wings over and over.

“WHERE IS HE!?” the creature shrieked.  “WHERE WHERE WHERE WH-RE WH-“  The tirade gave way to a coughing fit, followed by whimpering.  Minoru was the only one to hear it.

With a final slam to the floor, Butterfly turned and shambled back to the door.  It stuck the spike tips into the crack, and slowly pushed its way through, grunting frustratedly all the while.

Minoru couldn't make himself move until long after it was gone.

Chapter Text

Izuku knew Butterfly would go back to the dorms whether he was there or not.  He was grateful it didn’t hurt anyone, but it still ate him alive to know they could have without him there.  Nezu’s email could have so easily been about something worse. 

“I know that look,” All Might interrupted his thoughts.  “You need to stop beating yourself up about all this.  There’s nothing you can do right now, and it’s not your fault or responsibility to begin with.”  Izuku was getting real tired of that phrase.  The man slid pancakes onto his plate.  It was still surreal to see his hero in old pajamas.  And covered in DC hero logos no less.

“Isn’t it though?” Izuku countered quietly.  It is after me… 

“No, it’s not,” he said firmly while turning the computer screen with the report away from him.  “This is a high-level villain and you’re still a student.  The last thing we’re going to do is wheel you out like some sort of human sacrifice.”

“You mean like how they used me as bait the other day?” he mumbled.

“I voted against that plan, I’ll have you know.”  He took a bite of his own pancakes.  “Not that I wasn’t willing to take you in.  I’m glad you’re here.  But the less time you spend in range of that thing, the better.”

Izuku frowned.  “…  Isn’t a lot of sugar really bad for someone without a stomach?”

“I’m gonna be honest with you kid, these are more substitute than ingredient.”  His face twitched as he swallowed.  “Ever had real American pancakes?”

“No, sir.”

“Well, these ain’t it.  You are missing out,” he said in a half joking, half disgruntled voice. 

Izuku took a bite.  It was more texture than taste.  Soft, with a little graininess that must have been the sugar substitute. 

“It’s alright.”

“Try it with syrup.  That’s real, at least.”  All Might lifted food into his mouth with one hand and typed with the other.

“Isn’t that pure sugar, though?”

“Probably.” 

“Then why do you have something you can’t eat?”

“Bought it for you.”

Izuku bit the inside of his mouth.  Again, he shouldn’t have been surprised.  All Might got a bunch of his books and movies out of storage so they would have something to do.  They spent all of yesterday marathoning every Superman movie ever made.  But all that, being catered to, was strange to him.  He wanted to say he lost his appetite, but didn’t want to be rude.

“Did you meet any cool heroes while you were out and about?” All Might attempted to change the subject.

He shrugged.  “I recognized most of them, but we didn’t really talk…”  The syrup melted the graininess a little.

“Ah,” he acknowledged.  Then he got a look.  The one where he wanted to ask something more but was debating it.  The one where he wasn’t certain if a question would overstep a boundary.  “I, uh, I heard you bumped into some fans.  How did that go?”

And Izuku wasn’t yet sure if that crossed it.  “Yeah, I-I guess.  It was…  Neat.”  He hadn’t really thought about it since it happened. 

“’Neat,’ huh?”  He eyed him skeptically.

“Is, is this gonna be a lesson about how to treat fans?”

“Do you want it to be?” All Might questioned with a slight tilt of the head.  “We don’t have to talk about it at all if you don’t want to.  I just, hmm…”  He turned the laptop back towards Izuku.  A picture captured the moment Misani kissed him, with little heart emojis plastered around the edge.  His smile was clearly forced, but the few comments he saw didn’t care.  “I think this is something we need to talk about.”

Izuku gulped.  “I-is that bad?”  Did I do something wrong?

“Is it?”

“Huh?”  Please don’t make this a guessing game, All Might.  I’m tired.

“Did you want her to kiss you?”

“Oh!  Oh…  Um, I mean, uh, not, not really.  B-but it’s fine!” he stammered.

All Might’s expression hardened.  “It’s not, actually.  Did she even ask?”

“I, uh…  No.”

“Then it’s really not okay,” he insisted. 

“B-but I’ve seen tons of pictures of girls kissing you!” he argued, more as a reaction.

“Because they asked, and I said yes.”  Then he sat up straight and entered teacher-mode.  “Midoriya, one of the most important things about interacting with fans is that there needs to be clear boundaries.  They’re supposed to ask you for pictures or whatever, and you’re allowed to say no to anything they request.  Whether it be pictures, kissing, or just talking, you have the right to shut down any of it.  Being in the public eye doesn’t make you a commodity.  When someone doesn’t even do the bare minimum of asking first, that’s a red flag they see you as one.”

“Okay…”

“Okay.”  He leaned back.  “I’m not trying to put the blame on you, kid.  You didn’t do anything wrong, that girl did.  It’s just that…  I know you can be a bit of a push-over sometimes when it comes to making others happy, and I don’t want people to take advantage of you.  I just want you to be safe.”

Izuku huffed in reluctant agreement. He suddenly felt gross. ‘That girl’ was Misani from middle school.  If she remembered me, maybe she knew I wouldn’t say anything to stop her.

“There’s something else, isn’t there?” he teacher broached gently.

“…  I know her.  And a couple other people in that crowd.”  All Might gestured for him to keep going.  “They went to my middle school.  A few of them were in my class.”

“Really?  None of the posts I’ve seen mention that.  You’d think they would,” he hummed.

“Are there a lot of posts?”

“A couple.  Did they not recognize you?”

“Maybe, but…”  He bit his lip and looked down at the syrupy marsh that was his pancakes melted into.  The sweet smell was starting to become nauseating.  “Did anyone recognize you when you started training at UA?”

“I’m not sure,” All Might responded.  “I moved here from pretty far away when I started attending, so I never really bumped into anyone from my old school.  And this was back before they started showing things like the Sports Festival on TV, so I didn’t have much of a following either…”  He looked up at the ceiling and thought for a moment.  “But there was this one time, years after I graduated, I teamed up with someone from my old UA homeroom to fight a villain.  They had no idea who I was.”

“Really?  How?”  Someone not recognizing All might was a completely foreign concept to him.

“It was by design, honestly.  I didn’t use the name ‘All Might’ until I went to America.  Got a new costume, new hairstyle, I pitched my voice!” he explained in his ‘heroic’ voice at the last part.  “But my goal was to completely remake myself.  To become someone completely new so I could build my image from the ground up.  I took that guy not knowing me as a sign of success.”  He slouched a little.  “But that was me, and you’re you.  And I can tell this is bothering you.  You don’t have to tell me, but I’d like to know so I can better help you.”

Izuku took a hesitant breath.  “They…  Didn’t really like me back then…”  One of them was around when I got told to jump off a roof.  What sort of things did they say about me when I wasn’t around?

“Oh,” his mentor sighed.  He shut the laptop and turned towards Izuku all the way.  “So, you think they were just pretending not to recognize you?”

“I don’t know…”  But they must have.  They all called me ‘Deku.’  They tagged it in their posts.  That’s what they all used to call me.  No way they forgot.  All Might placed a hand on his shoulder.  He thought again about boundaries.  “I don’t, I don’t wanna talk about this anymore…”

“Okay.”  Simple as that.

Thunder rumbled all throughout that second day.  After helping clean up breakfast, Izuku dug into All might’s comic books.  He laid on the floor surrounded by them for most of the day.  But the lack of Japanese translations limited his options. 

All Might had a ton of Superman trade paperbacks.  Izuku skipped around through them, only reading the standalone stories rather than long arcs.  The only one he stayed for was the aftermath of Superman’s death, where a group of similar supermen try and rise up to take his place.  From there, he moved on to an anthology of the first appearance issues of several big DC superheroes.  Most were pretty benign, some to the point he had to wonder how they caught on in the first place.  Though it was a little surreal to read about Batman killing people.

A few meta texts lined the boxes.  One briefly explained the origins of superhero costumes.  Apparently, back in 1930s America, quirkless strongmen and wrestlers performed in the circus while wearing bright spandex costumes to add to the show.  They also wore underwear over the spandex incase the cheap material ripped while onstage.  Back then, brightly-colored spandex was the popular image for ‘this guy is really strong,’ and the creators of Superman incorporated that shorthand into his design.  And every subsequent hero, fictional up to real, built on that to the point where the superhero replaced the strongman shorthand.  Izuku got his costume idea from All Might; maybe he would ask later about his inspiration.

There wasn’t a lot of Marvel stuff in the collection, but there was one of the Marvel/DC crossovers.  The two ensembles saw one another as enemies at first, but soon realized that despite their differences, they were all on the same side.  Izuku finished the story by lunch.

Lunch itself was rather unceremonious.  All Might at some point got up from the couch where he had been working all day, and returned a little later with some grilled cheese sandwiches.  Izuku hadn’t even noticed him leave.  Probably another attempt to push Izuku to let his mentor take care of him.  He must have noticed how uncomfortable Izuku was working in the taller-than-normal kitchen.  Though none of this was addressed.  The two ate their meal in not quite comfortable silence.

Finally finding Blue Beetle in the pile left him a little disappointed at first.  Here was a book that came with All Might’s seal of approval, but they were all in English.  Izuku was decent at the language, but not so much that he wouldn’t miss out on a lot of the story. 

“I can read if for you, if you want,” All Might suggested as Izuku set the book to the side. 

Izuku scrunched his nose and shook his head.  He didn’t need All Might to read to him like he was a little kid.

“I, I think I’ve read enough today anyway.”  And he started to put things away.

“You sure?  Still a few hours left in the day,” he teased.  Izuku joined him on the couch with a stretch.  “I forgot to ask before.  How’d your Superman report go?”

“Good, I think,” he responded non-committedly. 

“Must have.”  His teacher showed him the screen.  There was the teacher-only grade page, with a big A next to Izuku’s name.  “’Midoriya’s discussion of Superman effectively captured the big picture view of how popular fiction helped shape our modern culture,’” All Might read.  “Good job, my boy.”

“Thank you.”  He turned away, blushing. 

“Did you mention the costume thing?  I saw you reading the book,” he pointed out. 

“…  No.”

“Oh, well that’s fine,” he corrected quickly.  “Hey!  Midnight filmed your presentation.  How ‘bout we-“

“Oh, please no!” Izuku groaned.

“Ah, come on!  I know you did great!”

“No.  I am not in the mood to watch me embarrass myself…”  Dad came to mind, and he curled up a little.

All Might noticed.  He always did.  As they slipped back into silence, Izuku debated talking to him about Dad.  But why?  All Might isn’t my therapist.  What would he have to say to that?

“You uh…  If you’re done with the comics, you wanna watch a movie?” the old hero suggested. 

“Hmm?  Okay.”  He sunk further into the couch.  The TV was already on.  It was nearly triple the size of the one back home, Izuku realized.  The apartment seemed quaint aside from a few luxuries scattered throughout.  It was easy to forget the man was loaded.  “What do you wanna watch?”

“We, we could check what’s up for streaming.”

“Sure.”

They scrolled through new releases for a while.  Both agreed they were heroed-out.  Though the B-movies and romantic comedies that dominated the front page weren’t super appealing either.  All Might was about to go past the genre sections when something caught Izuku’s eye.

“Oh hey, Hellraiser is good.  Haven’t seen that in a while,” he suggested.

All Might gave him a look.  “Hellraiser?”

“Yeah.  It’s a really good horror movie about this guy-“

“I know, I’ve seen it…  Have you?”

“Yes.”

“How long ago?” he questioned suspiciously.

“When I was, like, thirteen, I don’t know.”  Izuku shrugged.

“Thirteen?  That movie is barely appropriate for a sixteen-year-old!”  He moved his hands around in confusion.

“I like it.  It’s not that scary.”  What’s the big deal?

“I’m not talking about the scary stuff, kid.”

“Oh, so a bloody, skinless corpse is fine, but a sex scene isn’t?” Izuku scoffed. 

“If memory serves, there’s more than just a sex scene in Hellraiser,” he countered. 

You sound like Mom, he thought to himself.  And she still let me watch it.  Through half-lidded eyes he looked at the image of Pinhead on the movie title card.  He’d also begged Mom to let him go as Pinhead for Halloween that year.  But he didn’t go out at all.  She let me watch because she was guilty, the thought invaded his head.  It was a week before Halloween, and I was the only one in my class not invited to Ito’s party.  He told me so.  Mom felt bad for me, and let me stay up late to watch scary movies…  His eyes stung.  I miss Mom.

“And why would you want to watch something with so much gore given everything that’s happening right now?” All Might continued.

“Fine.  Pick something else,” Izuku conceded.  He heard the couch shift as his teacher recoiled.  But he put on some innocuous action movie, and the night went on.

The rain and thunder continued to day three.  If not for the sound of the rain, Izuku might have thought it was cold enough for snow.  He woke up late again, buried under two heavy comforters, plus his own little blanket from home.  His All Might plush was squeezed ever closer to his chest.  He laid in bed for a while, listening to the rain he couldn’t see out of the blacked-out window.  The room was too big, almost as big as his own living room.  Didn’t help that the ceilings were too high.  He felt like he was shrinking.

All Might sat at the kitchen table again, reading a report.  The half-eaten bowl of cereal beside him indicated whatever it said wasn’t good.

“Any updates?” Izuku ventured.

He hesitated.  Definitely not good.

“Butterfly…  Struck again.  Very early this morning,” he spoke quietly after a few moments.

“…  Struck how?”  Izuku leaned forward slightly.

“It, it tried to sneak into a police precinct.  One where many of the investigators on its case worked…”  All Might swallowed.  “They don’t think it found any dangerous information.  My home isn’t listed in any files and your mother was moved to an equally off the record location a day or so ago…”  He avoided eye contact.

“It hurt more people, didn’t it?” Izuku asked, accusatory this time.  He was not in the mood for things to be kept from him.  “Somebody caught it in the act, and it hurt them.”

“Yes.  Four officers were injured, along with a civilian there for an unrelated case.  Two of them are in critical condition,” he recited robotically.  A direct quote.  But there was something else.  “There was, there was also a hero on the scene.  Outfield…  He…”  He sighed.  “He died of his wounds two hours ago.”

Izuku exhaled shakily.  Outfield.  The hero who could catch anything.  The hero Chuck and Dental Demolition worked under.  The chair he sat in was too big; his feet didn’t even scrape the ground.  He was shrinking again.  Was it personal?  Would Outfield have been there if Butterfly didn’t kill his sidekicks?  He couldn’t bring himself to ask.  Instead, he asked:

“How did…  How was he killed?”  He didn’t know why he asked.  Later, he would try and justify it in his own head that he needed as much information as possible in case it found him.

“I, uh…  Kid, you don’t wanna know.”

“Tell me.”  More forceful.

“Young Midoriya...”

“Spit it out, All Might,” he snapped.

“I-I can’t…”  His eyes never left the screen.

“You’re looking at it.”  Izuku shot up and marched to the other side of the table, only for his teacher to slam the laptop shut. 

He sighed, and rubbed his face with his free hand.  “He was stabbed through the eyes with feathers…  You don’t need see that.”

Izuku agreed silently, and backed down.  Neither of them ate breakfast.

That day went slower than the two before.  The knowledge of another life ended kindled Izuku’s stewing.  What were fun, escapist comics yesterday were now mocking reminders of how powerless he felt in all this.  Movies too.  It didn’t help that he couldn’t shake the feeling All Might wasn’t telling him everything that went on outside.

Makeup work for class took no time at all.  The teachers had been holding out on quizzes and truly challenging assignments in an effort to ease the stress the looming villain caused.  Izuku requested All Might message the school for the next few days’ planned homework.  He looked like he wanted to argue, but agreed.  But if they sent anything, he didn’t give it up.

He did, however, try and talk Izuku out of making his own lunch.  “You’re my guest after all.”

“I get that, but I, I just wanna do something for myself,” he confessed.

“Well, alright…  If you need help finding something, please ask.”  All Might pretended to focus back on his own work, but Izuku caught him side-eying every time he looked back.

I’m not a toddler!  I don’t need you to babysit me! he screamed inside.  Though the longer he spent in the tall kitchen, the more he felt like one.  All the counters and shelves were several centimeters taller than those of the dorms, which were themselves taller than back in Izuku’s apartment.  Those both went to his hips, these right below his chest.  He made frequent use of the footstool he knew All Might couldn’t have had any use for before.

Nor did he need all the food that overflowed from the pantry and fridge.  He recognized brands he and his mother couldn’t afford.  There must have been enough for two weeks, yet Izuku didn’t see much he knew for sure was safe for his master to eat.  Is all of this really for me?  Something tugged at his heart.

Scrambled eggs was something he’d seen All Might eat a lot.  The kind with lots of cheese and bits of meat.  Izuku preferred his plain with just a little pepper, but he wasn’t making it for just himself.  He let the butter sizzle on the pan while he cracked and whisked the eggs.  After those went in, he sprinkled pre-shredded cheese and bits of smoked ham over the top.  As he mixed it all around to get everything even, All Might appeared behind him with plates.

“That looks wonderful, my boy.”

“Thank you,” he answered quietly.

“Sorry, but I don’t think I have any pepper,” he apologized.  “I know you like it.”

“It’s fine.”

All Might put on an old comedy movie while they ate.  Neither laughed.

Izulu returned to his room after, immediately digging out his laptop and villain analysis notebook.  The news didn’t show anything he didn’t already know.  Mt. Lady returned to the field, but declined to comment on the loose villain.  Butterfly attacked a police station and killed an unidentified pro he knew was Outfield.  There were a few more instances of missing security footage and food.  Scattered sightings also appeared on hero-watching forums.  Izuku pulled up a map in a new tab and marked the locations. 

They were erratic.  No clear goal or direction.  It rarely appeared too close to where it last struck.  When it did, it was after a lot of time passed and it went somewhere else in between.  Izuku wished he knew All Might’s address so he could know for sure whether Butterfly was close or not.  The uncertainty made it worse.  He wrote down a chart in an effort to find a pattern.

The chronology is rough at best, but the time scale between incidents doesn’t support a wide-range teleporter, Izuku pondered.  He did some math on the distances.  It’s moving between locations only a little faster than it would take to get there by car.  But there aren’t any sightings of it moving outside, just when it’s inside.  The outside sightings saw it vanish into thin air…  He turned the page back to the list of quirks.  Next to teleportation, he wrote: ‘Invisibility (?)’ 

Izuku pinched his lip.  All Might said they already think it’s invisible to people who aren’t expecting it.  But then how could it disappear right in front of someone?  Maybe the old invisibility quirk doesn’t work anymore since the news has everyone on edge, and it picked up a new one.  No one said anything bad about Hagakure.  She’s hardly the only person in the world with an invisibility quirk, though.  But is it even certain that it’s stealing quirks?  There’s still a chance it’s a copy quirk.  But the camper from Jakku lost his…  He sighed frustratedly. 

Okay, whatever.  Izuku flipped back to the chart.  How’s it moving as fast as it is?  Taking a car or train hardly seems this thing’s style.  Maybe it’s running across the rooftops.  Or in the sewers.  It ran pretty fast last time I saw it.  A phantom pain made his palm twitch.  Then again, it could still be a teleporter, and it’s sneaking off to sleep or raid some other places that haven’t been discovered. 

But that didn’t line up right either.  The chart Izuku made put the average time between sightings at around two hours.  But the amount of distorted security footage usually marked Butterfly present for an hour of that.  And those where when it parked in a place to eat.

When the hell does this thing sleep?  Izuku rubbed his eyes, then added ‘No sleep/Micro naps’ to the quirk list.  It already felt too long.

• Spiked wings
• Bat wings
• Dread/Pain attack
• Claws
• Screech/Voice change
• Teleport/Invisibility (?)
• Erasure
• Redirect
• Object restoration
• Dream manipulation
• Sleep hold
• Telekinesis
• Extra joints
• Fire breath
• All for One/Copy
• No sleep/Micro nap (?)

He stared down at ‘Fire breath,” and scowled.  The next page was reserved for counter strategies. 

The rest of the day was spent deep in research.  Izuku looked up heroes, villains, and anyone in between who had a quirk anywhere in the ball park of what Butterfly had.  Then, he brought it back to himself.  Just himself.

Izuku didn’t consider himself a spiteful person.  Not at all.  There was no ill will in his heart towards his former bullies, those who forgot him on the train or Kacchan or otherwise.  Sure, he fought passionately, but that was what great heroes did.  He hardly ever took his fights, even with villains, too personally.  Over and done with.  Revenge didn’t matter.  So, he surprised himself with his hope that Butterfly’s wings were hollow like a real bird’s.  They would break easier that way. 

All Toshinori wanted was for Midoriya to be happy.  Just in general, and while the boy was stuck in his house.  So he pulled out all the stops, gathering as many things to keep him comfortable and entertained as he could.  The softest sheets and clothes he could find, the best food and sweets regardless if he himself could eat it, and every comic book, movie, and videogame he owned from storage.  All in a desperate bid to show his student a good time despite the circumstances.  Now that he was older and well-off, he could spoil his own protégé like his master never could.  A part of him longed for Midoriya’s stay to be like those long, lazy days he spent camping at Nana’s home.  But the rest knew that was just a nostalgia-tinted fantasy.  Then and now, they were hiding from a villain.  And the reality of the situation crashed down harder than ever at the dawn of the fourth day, when Midoriya woke up before him.

“It’s tracking me,” he said, voice raw and scratchy, and curled up at the kitchen table reading Nezu’s report.  He’d been crying.

Any reprimands about using his laptop without permission died in Toshinori’s throat once he saw for himself.  The email told of a dozen missing quirks; radar, enhanced smell, retrace, item finding, and more like them.  Some were mismatched among the victims, others remained unaccounted for.  Butterfly was coming.

“Y-young Midoriya…” he stuttered.  Whatever part of his brain that dealt with reassuring wisdom was delayed.

“We have to stop him…” the boy mumbled.

“I know, the pros are already hard at work to-“

“No, I mean me!  I have to face him!”

Toshinori hacked up blood.  “Wh-what the hell are you talking about, kid?”  It better not be what I think it is!  “You’re just a student, you can’t just waltz up to a maniac like that!”

“I have a plan!” Midoriya countered.  He held up a notebook full of diagrams depicting Butterfly and what must have been potential weaknesses.  There was nothing about backup.

“My boy,” began calmly, “I know all this has been hard for you.  And I especially know how frustrating it is to just wait for other people to fix things, but that’s all we can do right now.”

Midoriya jumped up with a shout.  “But it’s not!  Butterfly isn’t going to stop until it finds me, so I have to be the one to face it!”

Toshinori furrowed his brow.  Now he was frustrated.  “And do you honestly think that, that monster is going to calm down and leave everyone else alone if it gets you!?  Need I remind you that this thing is very likely a nomu!?”

“I don’t know!  But I have to do something!”

“No!  You don’t!” he implored to what he hoped weren’t deaf ears.  “You don’t have to do anything, but hide!  Be safe!  You are the victim, a kid!”

“I am not a kid!”

“Midoriya Izuku you are sixteen years old and under my care, so you are.  A.  Child!”

“I am a hero in training, and there’s a villain out there after me!” he begged with tears in his eyes.  Toshinori steeled his heart against it.  “It’s killed dozens of people looking for me, and, and stolen their quirks!  Because of me!  This is my responsibility!”  His voiced cracked throughout.

“Young Midoriya.”  Toshinori took a deep breath through his nose.  “None of this is your fa-“

“SHUT UP!” 

He flinched at that.  Toshinori hadn’t ever heard Midoriya raise his voice outside of training or a fight.  Though to him, this was the latter.  And his shouts rumbled through his chest.

“Shut up!” he yelled again.  “I’m tired of hearing that!  I’m so tired!  I don’t care if it’s my fault or not!”  He gasped for breath.  “There is a villain out there hurting people!  I just…  I…  I want this to stop!  I just want all this to stop…”

“…  I do too,” Toshinori said, stepping closer.  I can’t bear to see you hurting.  He reached out to his beloved student.  “But you don’t have to throw your life away.”

Midoriya smacked his hand away.  “I’m not going to!”  He hit with force powerful enough to hurt, but indicated that was nowhere near what he was capable of.  His whole body was tense, arms at his sides in a challenging stance.  A warning.  Toshinori swallowed and stepped back.  If Midoriya decided to take off, he would be powerless to stop him.  “Why don’t you think I can do this!?  Wh-why don’t you believe in me!?”  And his blows weren’t just physical.

Toshinori took to long to respond.  Midoriya scoffed and turned around back to his room.

“Midoriya, wait!  Please wait!”  The door slammed.  He locked it before Toshinori could get to him.  “Midoriya!”  There was shuffling; getting his clothes and shoes on.  He’s going to try and get out to face him.  Toshinori tried to bulk up and yank at the door, but to no avail.  He shrunk back down in a fit of coughs.  “Mido -hack- Midoriya, please!” he begged again. 

Miniscule relief came with the sound of the kid struggling with the window.  Toshinori bolted them shut ages ago.  He leaned against the door and sunk to the floor.  It was temping to laugh.

Then, there was a loud, wobbly hit.

He’s, he’s trying to break the window, he realized in disbelief.  “It’s bulletproof, my boy.  Don’t hurt yourself.”  He’s gonna be fine.

Another hit. 

Toshinori covered his eyes with his still-throbbing hand.  It’s fine.  He’s fine.

Then another.

No way is he strong enough to break bulletproof glass!  What am I thinking?  Even with One for All, he doesn’t have his iron soles!

“You’re gonna break something that isn’t glass, kid,” he warned.

A familiar hum, then a heart-stopping crack.

Toshinori held his breath.  He’s not going to get out. 

Crack.

He’s not going to get out.  He can’t.  Faint green light danced from under the door.

Crunch.

Please don’t let him get out.

A final smash, accompanied by a whimper.

Toshinori swallowed again.  “Midoriya?  Are you alright?”

His only response was a scream, followed by the crashes and tears of the room being destroyed.  It was fine.  Toshinori could live with that.  But it was getting harder and harder to live with himself holding his student hostage like a trapped animal.  He hated that he was adding to the boy’s hurt.  But it was for the best, wasn’t it?  Butterfly was a borderline cosmic horror they barely understood.  Pros could barely hold their own.  And there was a possibility that thing had access to All for One, in one form or another.  He couldn’t let his boy face that.  Sure, the kid had enough power and smarts to maybe stand a chance, but the risk wasn’t worth it. 

He's going to be able to stand up to anything the world throws at him, Toshinori mused, his own eyes starting to water.  Just not today.

The destruction was eventually replaced by the unmistakable sound of crying into a pillow.  Toshinori put his ear to the door.

“I’m so tired!” he made out.

“Me too, Izuku…  Me too.”

Chapter Text

Nana’s shrine sat in the corner of the north wall of Toshinori’s bedroom.  It wasn’t much, just a small cabinet with some pictures and flowers.  There were also a few small things he thought she would have liked.  Sea shells and knickknacks from other countries, the like.  She had a similar setup for her husband back in the day.  Most of the pictures were candid shots or newspaper clippings; she hated having her picture taken.  One of the few she agreed to showed her with an arm around Toshinori's neck, while she rubbed her fist in his hair.  Both of them smiled, like always. 

“What would you have said, Master?” he asked, sinking in the unmade bed too big for his scrawny frame.  Toshinori waited by Midoriya’s door almost two hours before he gave up on any change.  All the while he listened to soft sobs die down.  He hoped his student found enough peace to take a nap. 

Toshinori racked his brain for how his master dealt with the situation had.  There wasn’t much.  He worshiped the ground she spat on and rarely argued with her orders.  Not that he could recall her ever saying something that hurt him enough to draw tears.  She only made him cry out of gratitude.

…  It’s better Midoriya talks back, I suppose.  Toshinori rubbed lingering tears from his eyes.  He’s his own person, and sees me as one too.  He knows I’m not a god, that I can get things wrong.  Would he still be desperate for his master’s advice thirty years after her death?  …  My death.  It hit him like a brick to the face.  Others dying because of him.  That’s what he’s afraid of. 

Toshinori knew that fear all too well.  His master died so he could live, and it killed him.  For decades, he viewed her decision as his failure.  If he had only proven himself more, she would have had enough faith in him to let him stand at her side.  Every person he couldn’t save, for so long, brought him back down to that place.  And how much of his prime had been absorbed in seeking revenge?  When he went off to fight All for One the first time, he went alone, leaving behind what may as well have been a suicide note for Gran and Nighteye. 

He paused his thoughts briefly to listen for movement.  Nothing came.  Toshinori hoped Midoriya didn’t hurt himself hitting the window.  I’m sorry, my boy.  I just want you to be safe.  Nana’s smiling face stared him down from the shrine.  He folded his hands.

“Is this what you felt, Master?  When you pushed me away that day?” he choked.  The cold, aching fear that your successor won’t live long enough to be as great as you know he will be, and you need to protect him…  Even if it hurts him?  Tears returned.  I was just a kid.  I wasn’t ready to stand against All for One.  And you knew that.  Toshinori put his head in his hands.  I wasn’t strong enough, and it wasn’t my fault.  Just like it’s not Midoriya’s now.

He went back to the door.

“Young Midoriya?”  Silence.  “I-I’m sorry.  For yelling at you…  And, all this.  You have every right to be angry.  I know it stinks…  This whole thing fucking stinks.”  The hell kind of reassurance is that?  Toshinori put his ear up to the door.  Familiar sniffley breathing brought relief the boy hadn’t managed to sneak out.  “I’m, uh, I’m going to make some lunch.  Any requests?”  His sigh was more a statement than a question.  He knew there wouldn’t be a response.

Katsudon was a dish Toshinori found himself making more and more often in recent years.  After he found out it was his successor’s favorite, it quickly became a staple comfort food.  And as a result, he’d gotten pretty good at making it. 

“Young Midoriya?  Lunch is ready,” he said with a knock.  “It’s katsudon.”  A bed creaked, then nothing.  If you want it, you need to come out, Toshinori thought about saying.  No.  I’ve already pushed things too far today.  “It’s right outside your door, i-if you want it,” and he placed the steaming bowl down.

Said stream cooled by the time Toshinori started eating.  He waited in hopes his successor would join him.  But the door would remain closed, bowl untouched, for an hour before he went to pick it up again.  As he wrapped up the leftovers for the fridge, Toshinori second-guessed the whole meal.

It’s not going to heat up well, it never does.  Was it even that good?  The high-grade pork was too much anyway.  Young Midoriya hates being spoiled.  Toshinori sighed.  No.  I was just throwing my wealth around.  It’s in bad taste no matter how you shake it.  He’d know that was a bribe.  Making katsudon at all was completely transparent.  Young Midoriya probably thought it was disingenuous. 

The unused pork cuts stared back at him.  His fridge was stuffed to the brim with ingredients that belonged in a luxury montage.  Kobe beef.  White strawberries.  Exotic mushrooms for nothing else but seasoning.  Things Toshinori wouldn’t have bought had they not been for Midoriya.  Only thing missing to complete the parade of excess was edible gold flakes.  All he wanted was to get the best for his boy.  Now, he felt like one of those movie villains who try to placate someone they’ve imprisoned with a feast.  He closed the fridge with another deep sigh.

The apartment itself, Toshinori realized as he crossed the living room once more, wasn’t the most inviting either.  Not to someone Midoriya’s size.  The building was constructed and furbished with taller than average tenants in mind, and Midoriya was positively tiny.  How small he must have felt in a place with such high tables and ceilings.  Not to mention, the sparse wall decorations sat nearly twice as high as the kid’s head. 

There weren’t many personal touches in general.  For the past few years, his apartment was just the place he slept.  The walls and furniture were dull, earthy tones.  He wasn’t much for little decorations that just collected dust he didn’t have time to clean.  The few photos were confined to his room.  Paranoia kept him from leaving out things that could implicate him as All Might, even after his true form was revealed.  Anything else that might have made the place looked lived-in was moved his room at UA. 

And then there were the blackout curtains.  Pitch-black fabric that blocked out any light.  Most of the main rooms were meant to be warmed by the sun.  He even had a giant pillow in storage for taking naps in the pleasant light.  Its absence left what should have been the coziest spaces with a faint chill.  In addition, not being able to look at the world outside must have been disorienting.  They could be underground for all Midoriya knew.  Toshinori suddenly felt like a stranger is his own home.

With that came the loneliness.  He’d been content to just exist in the space for years up until that moment.  But now, there was someone else staying with him, someone he cared for more than he’d ever cared for anything. 

And I pushed him away…

Sure, Naomasa had stayed overnight before, usually when they worked late on a tough case.  That was the whole reason there was a guest room set up to begin with.  But the two of them just as often slept in their clothes at the agency or the police station.  It wasn’t as special.

Special.  Gah, like anything about this situation is special, Toshinori thought.  The clock said it was only one in the afternoon.  He considered going back to bed and wallowing in self-pity.  But he had to keep watch.  Guard the door.  Midoriya had a record of going out on his own to face forces that could have, should have, killed him.  The only thing that stopped him from doing that again was bulletproof glass.  Of course, the kid had won every encounter.  He had a strong dose of luck mixed into the cocktail of skill and determination, and he won.  Sinking further into the couch, Toshinori ran a hand over his throbbing scar.

But you only need to be unlucky once…

The afternoon went on.  So did the evening.  Toshinori offered food to the door a few more times, as well as activities.  Board-games, drawing, and movies.  Even Hellraiser.  All met with silence.  If it wasn’t for the occasional shuffling, Toshinori would have thought the kid broke out somehow. 

And maybe that was the plan.  A cynical corner of his brain said Midoriya was playing him.  Baiting Toshinori’s worried heart to check on him so to catch him off guard and rush out the front door.  But that couldn’t be it.  Midoriya was smart, not deceitful.  He could blow past his old teacher no trouble anyway. 

So Toshinori kept put.  He ran through the reports until they were practically memorized.  A dozen or so emails begging for a different arrangement were drafted and deleted.  Even in the darkness, he felt the sun go down as the hours slipped away.  By the light of the side lamp, the scribbles in his notebook became Nana, as they often did.  There had been an idea, long since buried, that he’d make an autobiographic graphic novel once he retired.  Or maybe some short stories about Nana.  Where had the time gone?

Then, just after nine, the door creaked open.  Toshinori held his breath as light footsteps padded behind him.  On the slower end of casual.  How desperately he wanted to say something.  But what?  There was so much.  Further silence was worse.  He just knew it was.

“Are you alright?” he finally asked without looking back, in a tone he couldn’t name.  The slight shuffle of clothing seemed question what he meant.  “You…  You cracked bulletproof glass earlier…  That’s gotta hurt…”  He would have been proud of his student under different circumstances.  Strike that, he was proud.  But he was afraid too.  “Is, is that why you stopped?”  The air was getting heavier.  Toshinori should have been able to hear Midoriya breathe at that distance.  Aizawa’s stealth lessons were paying off.  “You would tell me if you were hurt, wouldn’t you?”

Feet shifted again.  Socks on hardwood.  Midoriya hid his shoes in his room with the rest of his things, he would likely have them on if he were trying to make a break for it.  But maybe he was trying to be quiet.  Maybe he had his shoes in his hands.  Toshinori couldn't look at him. 

“But you know what’s not bulletproof?”  A pause.  “The front door.”  Midoriya’s inhale was audible that time.  Toshinori squished his lips together.  Nearly a whole day by himself, and here he was trying to figure out what to say in the moment.  He never was the best at making a plan.  But Midoriya waited for him.  “If…  If you, you walk out that door…  I-I won’t stop you.”  His voiced cracking covered up the little gasp.  “I’m sorry I yelled earlier.  I wouldn’t do that again.  I don’t think I can…”  I don’t have the strength.  “And I know I can’t stop you.  Not physically.  Even without One for All, you’re stronger than me.  And, and with it…  That’s the same kind of glass they use in Tartarus, that’s amazing!  I can’t, I can’t stand up to that…  So, I won’t try.”  He took a deep breath.  “Just…  Just know that, that I-I do-on’t want you to go-o.”  The hand over his eyes blocked two huge tears from falling.  “B-but you can always come back if you do.”  Toshinori couldn’t manage anything above a whisper.  A tear dripped down onto his paper.

A door opened.  Toshinori held his breath.  When it shut, the sound came from the fridge.  He turned to look at last.  Midoriya stood on the bench in the kitchen, just barely tall enough to push two bowls of leftover katsudon into the microwave.  He was in his pajamas, the same ones from that morning, with his little blue blanket draped over his shoulders.

Relief hit Toshinori like a tall wave at the beach.  He only just dried his eyes in time for Midoriya to bring him his bowl.  His eyes were red and puffy, the way they were after a long day of crying that ended a while ago.  And then he joined him on the couch. 

“How is it?” Toshinori asked cautiously.

“S’good,” the boy responded after swallowing.  “Probably would have been better fresh…”

“Hmm, yeah.  This heated up well, at least.  All thanks to the master of the microwave!” he teased with a tap to the boy’s leg.  Midoriya flinched slightly.  Toshinori's brows creased.  “Are you hurt?”

He shrugged.  “Little sore.  Not a big deal.”

“Want some ice?”

“I think it’s a little late for that…”

“That’s not a no.”  Toshinori had ice bags with soft cloth on the outside for the exact purpose.  Regular plastic would chaff and sweat.  Toshinori grabbed one from the freezer in no time at all.  Midoriya took it gratefully and balanced it on his ankle.  “Nothing broken?”

“Just sore,” he repeated.  “Kinda like when you land wrong after jumping and feel it all up your leg.”

“Ah.”  He took another bite. 

“…  Why does an apartment have bulletproof glass anyway?  Did you special-order it?” Midoriya asked.

“No, it was here when I bought the place,” he began.  “You gotta remember that this is specialty quirk housing.  Lots of people with big strength or monster quirks, so the walls and windows have to be reinforced in case of accidents.”

“That makes sense…”  They both finished their meal in not quite awkward silence after that.  Toshinori returned from putting the bowls in the kitchen to Midoriya looking intensely at the notepad.  “You’re good at drawing.”

“Thank you, my boy,” he said, gently picking up the sketch.  “You’re not too bad yourself, I’ve seen your notebooks.”

Midoriya smiled, but said nothing for a few moments.  “How’d you learn to draw?”

“Well, I used to redraw my favorite comic panels.  Eventually, I figured out how to do it without a reference.  Wanted to be a comic artist back in the day.”  He flipped through the book, showing Izuku drawings of different heroes, real and fictional.

“What made you change your mind?”

“The main thing was that there weren’t a lot of companies publishing superhero comics back then,” he detailed.  “Fictional heroes, at least in comic form, fell out of style before even my time, and there wasn’t a market for real hero stuff yet.”

“You could probably buy a comic company now.  Make them sell what you want…” 

“You’re probably right,” he huffed good-naturedly.  He wasn’t sure if Midoriya’s comment had been a dig or not.  Has Midoriya ever made a dig before?  “Hmm…  You know, I might try something like that soon.”

“What do you mean?”  That got his attention.

“There’s some folks over in America who still own the rights to a bunch of pre-quirk comic heroes,” Toshinori explained.  “The scan site you kids looked at for research?  That’s them.  Sometimes they do limited physical prints as well.  Mostly in English out of their museum.”

“The New York Museum of Sequential Art, right?”

“Yep.  They’ve been buying up loose characters in the last couple years.  Rumor is that they’re going to start mass reprints again.  And, if that goes well, they might start publishing new stories.”  It was purely speculation at that point.  Toshinori got an email weeks before asking about interest, and proptly forgot about it until that moment.

Midoriya’s eyes lit up.  “Really?  There hasn’t been any new Marvel or DC comics since the Second Quirk Collapse!  That would be huge!”

“Project like that needs a lot of funding, and I may or may not have offered to throw my hat in the ring,” he smirked.  Backing from All Might would get it some press at least.  That would be fun though, now that he thought about it.

“Would you draw for it?”  He gestured to the sketchpad. 

“What?  Oh no, no.  I’d just be investing in the company.  Maybe oversee a potential localization branch in Japan, at most.  If they want to get off the ground, they need better artists than me.”  If I do end up doing that autobiography, I’d want to do it independent anyway.

“So, who’s that you’re drawing?  I don’t recognize her,” Midoriya changed the subject.  Though to him, it was probably just a follow-up.

“This…  Is my predecessor.  The seventh holder of One for All.  Nana Shimura,” Toshinori sighed.  “The greatest hero I ever knew…”

The boy gaped at the sketch, open-mouthed and wide-eyed.  It almost made Toshinori want to laugh.  That drawing was nothing.  He got up wordlessly, and retrieved one of her photos from the shrine.  It was of her in her hero costume smiling proudly at the camera.

“That’s her,” he declared.  Rain rolled in outside.  The sound soothed.

“Wow…” Midoriya breathed.  He took the picture carefully with both hands, like it was the most delicate, precious thing in the world.  And Toshinori couldn’t have appreciated it more.  “She, she was really beautiful.”

He chuckled slightly.  “She was.”

“How is it I’ve never heard of her!?  If she was your mentor, she must have been a big deal!”  Of course, the fanboy would falter at his own lack of knowledge.

“You have to remember that heroes weren’t as commercialized back then.  If they were, I would have been a bigger fanboy of her than you of me!”  He tussled his student’s hair.  Midoriya didn’t lean it like he usually did.  Toshinori withdrew his hand.  “She was more of a local legend than a national symbol.  Did her job in a small area, but did it better than anyone,” he said softly.

“Do you know why she didn’t try to expand?  Or was that just how things worked back then?”  Midoriya looked ready to run for his notebook.  Toshinori would have waited a moment if he asked.

“That’s part of it.  The other thing is that she actually knew how to take care of herself, so she never spread herself too thin.”  That got a little smile out of the kid, albeit a bit of a sad one.  The whole truth was even sadder.  “I learned later that, that she stayed in the same region in order to keep an eye on All for One.”  Midoriya’s smile dropped hard, as did his own.  His face ran through a number of emotions as his mind filled in the blanks of the story.  Nana’s passion, her tragic death, the passing of the torch.  Toshinori nodded slowly.

“I…  I’m…” the boy struggled.

“Don’t…  Don’t apologize,” Toshinori told him.  I couldn’t bear it.

So Midoriya did something else.  “Thank you for telling me.  It’s probably not easy to talk about…”  He set his ice pack on the coffee table.

“Thank you for listening,” he responded, with a brief squeeze to his shoulder.  How did I get so lucky?  I was a complete meathead at his age.  No way I would have been this mature in a discussion like this.  He sighed.  That’s probably why Nana only told me snippets about One for All.  She was waiting for me to mature…  “I think…  She would have loved you, you know?”

“Huh?”  Midoriya sat up.  The rain outside grew harder.

“Nana.  She would have loved to meet you.  Train you.  Raise you.  You two would have gotten on so, so well,” Toshinori mused.  He pictured Nana, older and proud, like she was meant to be, at his side as they both oversaw Midoriya’s training.  A scene came to mind: her sneaking up behind the boy, hugging him under his arms and spinning him around like she used to do with him.  It was almost enough to bring a tear to his eye.

“You, you really think she would have approved of me as your successor?” he asked quietly.

Toshinori’s gaze jumped towards him.  “My boy, what part of ‘she would have loved you’ don’t you get!?” he teased, lightly pushing Midoriya in the shoulder.  The smaller boy smiled again.  There was a brief pause.  “…  Honestly.  I think, given the option…  She would have picked you over me.”

He meant it to be a compliment, but Midoriya recoiled so fast and deep, it was like he told him he was the highest caliber of failures.

“No.”

“What?  ‘No?’  What do you mean?” Toshinori asked desperately.

“No!  Don’t talk about me like that!”

“Like what!?  Tell me!”

“Like…  Like I’m better than you!”

“But-“

“I’m not!  Don’t say I am!” he choked.  “You, you’re the greatest hero ever!  The Symbol of Peace!  And I…  I’m j-ust, just Deku…”

“Oh, Young Midoriya…”  He wanted to hug him so bad, but he also knew how thin the ice was.

“I can’t even beat one villain!  One!  And it’s the one hurting people to get to me!”  He stood up.  “And they won’t even give me a chance to face it!”

“And you think I don’t know how that feels?  To be stuck inside safe while the thing that hurt you is running free to do more harm!?” Toshinori accused.  Midoriya deflated a bit.  Calmer this time: “I know that you’re angry.  I argued for them to leave you with me because I know how you feel.  I won’t lie, it sucks.  It sucks to leave what you feel is your responsibility to others.  But sometimes, you have to.  You have to let others help you.”

Midoriya relented, and sat back down.  He pulled his blanket tight around his shoulders.  That posture warned he wasn’t in the mood for physical reassurance.

“You know the other reason I argued to look after you?”  A shrug.  “Because I wanted to."  No response.  Toshinori pushed on.  "Like I said, I can’t do much to help others anymore.  Offering my home and care?  That’s the most I can do…”  He folded his fingers.  “I saw some of how you were beating yourself up for not being able to stop this thing.  Feeling useless.  I know because I’ve been there.  More than once.  After Kamino, after my injury six years ago…  After Nana.”  Midoriya shifted, though with what emotion, he wasn’t sure.  “And I wanted to spend time with you.” 

Thunder cracked outside.

“If you could still fight, would you have bothered?” he asked coldly.

Toshinori met his challenge.  “Let me tell you something, Midoriya Izuku.  Look at me.”  Reluctantly, he did.  “I used to want nothing more than to take back that fight.  Maybe if I had done something different, or just waited altogether, I would still have my quirk.  And my lung and stomach.  I considered finally making a serious effort to find a successor to be giving up.  And I hated myself for it.”  His student’s face scrunched up.  “I struck a deal with Nezu and UA, and moved to Mustafu to be closer.  One my first day in town, with my scar aching from hauling moving boxes all morning and the time limit running out…  I saved a middle schooler from a sludge villain…  And he, you, saved my will to go beyond.  You saved my heart.”  Midoriya sniffed and turned away, hugging his knees to his chest.  “None of that would have happened had I not been injured way back when.  I wouldn’t have had a time limit that forced me to pay attention to you, or maybe I wouldn’t have come to town at all.  And even though I miss being a hero sometimes, I don’t regret it anymore.”

“I’m not worth it.”  Clear as day, no pause to let his words sink in.  “You could have helped so many people since then if I hadn’t taken what time you had left.”

“And with that time I gave you, I set you on the path to help thousands more in the future,” he countered.  “If you want, think of yourself as an investment.  The best one I ever made.”

“No!” he whimpered.

They let the storm outside fill the silence.  Toshinori didn't understand what was wrong.  Why couldn't the kid accept the barest of praise?  There was clearly something deeper at fault.  To pick at it now was a risk.  But what else could he do?

“Young Midoriya?”  The boy looked up at him hesitantly.  “Why don’t you like compliments?”

“…  It’s too much,” he squeaked.  Toshinori motioned for him to elaborate.  “…  When, when everyone is really mean for so long, then suddenly someone says nothing but nice things…”  He sniffled.  “It feels fake sometimes.”  Toshinori’s heart sank.  “It feels like I’m being made fun of.  Like it’s all a big joke and the punchline is coming any second.  I know that it’s not, but that feeling won't go away sometimes, a-and I don't know why.”

Young Midoriya had the opposite problem as himself at that age.  Teenaged-Toshinori refused to even acknowledge his negative emotions, and clung desperately to the positives like a lifejacket of denial.  But for Midoriya, positivity was a finite resource better spent on others, leaving him to spiral.

“Young Midoriya, my boy…  I admit, this is something I don’t completely understand,” he began.  “If reigning in the praise makes you more comfortable, I’ll do it.  But if you expect me to lie and play down your significance, that is something I can’t do.”  Patiently, he sat with the storm and the lingering smell of katsudon for an answer.

“…  Then don’t lie.”

“C-come again?”

“Don’t lie,” he said.  “Tell me honestly what you hate about me.”

“Wha-what?  Where is this coming from?”  Where is this going?

“I want you to tell me what you don’t like about me.  As a person,” he explained more forcefully.  “So, so nothing about being a crybaby.”

Toshinori's frown deepened.  “And why the hell would I do that?”

“You only ever say nice things.  You act like there’s nothing wrong with me but there is!  And, and if you don’t tell me…  I-I’ll have to keep guessing.”

At last, Toshinori understood.  Midoriya wanted exposure therapy, something concrete to pull himself out of the unknown.  The problem was giving it to him.  Toshinori loved Midoriya, completely and truly, more than anyone he knew.  Ever since he first offered his quirk, he looked forward to seeing the kid whenever they met for training.  He maligned the days when he didn’t have to teach his boy’s class.  Finding something to say against him wasn’t easy.  Crybaby was out, and calling him reckless was too impersonal.  He’d praised him for standing up to authority just as much as he criticized him for it.  But the boy’s face said he needed this.

“…  You’re not very funny,” was the first thing that came to his head.  His successor’s head tilted in confusion.  “You, you can’t take a joke.  Hard as I try, I can’t make you laugh.  Back in the shelter a few days ago?  That was the only time I’ve ever heard you do it, and it wasn’t at anything funny.”

“…  That’s it?”  Midoriya sounded genuinely disappointed.

Toshinori swallowed.  Oh, how he wished to dig into how this wasn’t right.  Years of bullying and discrimination conditioned him to think he was a bad person who deserved to be hurt, and that couldn’t be further from the truth.  This was just picking at the wounds.  This was just going to do more harm.  But so would silence.

“Alright, what about me then?  What don’t you like about me, fanboy?” he tried to steer the conversation.  Midoriya pausing to think might give him time to do so himself.

But the boy scowled right away.  “I hate that you don’t trust me.”  It hurt more than he thought it would.  To be honest, Toshinori expected the boy to struggle more.  “You said you chose me, that I’m your successor.  But you hardly tell me anything!  You didn’t tell me how much it would hurt at first!  You didn’t tell me you had been quirkless!  You didn’t tell me about All for One!”  He choked on air.  “And you didn’t tell me that you were going to d-ie!  You don’t trust me with anything important to know until I’m already halfway to figuring it out myself!”  Fat tears filled his eyes but never fell.  “A-and I do-on’t understa-and why!”

To say Toshinori was unprepared would be an understatement.  Petrified, he watched his beloved student cry at his incompetence.  And as if that wasn’t enough, he had no answer.

Thunder.

“I-I don’t know, my boy…”  Midoriya didn’t break eye contact.  “I think…  I was being selfish.  Those are, are all things that weigh heavily on me, and I have a hard time talking about.”  He licked his lips for the right words.  “I told myself it was to protect you from their burden, but I was really protecting my own pride…  There are no words for how sorry I am.  And I know that fixes nothing…”

Midoriya’s naturally expressive face couldn’t hide that the words had reached him, but it did conceal what he would do with them.

“Your turn.”

“Really?  You still want this?” Toshinori questioned. 

“If I have to be honest, so do you!” 

And he couldn’t argue with that.  He racked his brain for anything he could use.  Midoriya was the kindest, most genuine person he knew.  Sure, he could be overly-emotional at times, but that also made him more empathetic.  What about opinions?  What had they disagreed on?  Not much.  Midoriya tended to either go along with him or made a convincing argument.  And Toshinori loved that about him.  What was left?  A car screeched in the distance outside. 

“I, I’m not a fan of how you talk about that video of my debut.  You’re too happy about it,” he spoke.  The kid looked confused again.

“Wh-why wouldn’t I be?  It was a great rescu-“

“It was awful!” he snapped.  Midoriya recoiled.  Good.  “It was so awful!  Hundreds of people died!  Most of the people I rescued didn’t pull through.  It’s been over twenty-five years and I still hear them screaming in my dreams!  I hated every second of that night.  And I hate that you love it!”  Midoriya’s lip wobbled.  The massage was received, but he kept going anyway.  “You know that one shot, of me climbing over the ridge with a dozen people on my back.  The one they put on shirts and goddamned coffee mugs!?  Half those people were already dead…  But!  Nobody cares.  And you don’t care either!  I hate that.”

Midoriya’s head fell, and he shook.  “I-I d-o ca-are…  I-it’s what ma-de me w-ant to be a he-hero!”

Toshinori took a long, deep breath.  “I know you do, I’m sorry.”  He reached out to squeeze his shoulder again, and was blessedly accepted.  They were both quiet again for a bit.  “Your, your mother said you’ve been obsessed with that video since you were little…  How’d you first see something like that?” he asked gently.

“I don’t remember, but Mom said they were running an anniversary special on the news,” he told him.  “…  My dad showed me.”

“And you would have been what?  Two, three years old?” he questioned, keeping things away from that landmine of a topic.

"...  Yeah."  Midoriya leaned into his teacher’s touch in gratitude.  Said teacher smiled in relief.

“I’m sorry for yelling.  I’m not mad, not at you, never you.  Just frustrated.  In general, at that, really.  It’s something I’d rather put behind me, but the rest of the world won’t let it go,” he said.

“…  I ge-t it,” Midoriya hiccuped. 

That brought on a real smile.  “I’m sorry if it makes you uncomfortable, but I meant what I said before.  Nana would have loved you.”  I do too.

“…  What was she like?  Really?” he asked.

“Ha!  Where to even begin?” Toshinori chuckled.  He leaned back into the couch and gazed at the ceiling.  “She was a massive goofball.  Always joking around and trying to make everyone smile.  Training early on with her was just play wrestling.”  The nostalgia warmed his chest.  “And she always seemed to know where the line was.  I don’t remember her ever accidentally making me feel bad with teasing.  And whenever I was upset, she’d know right away and get me to talk abut it.”  I miss her so much…

“You said, you said my mom reminded you of her.  How?” Midoriya asked innocently. 

“Well…”  How to describe it?  “It was the way she stood up to me for not taking care of you properly…  My master made a similar, albeit harsher, speech to my family when I was young.”

“Your family?”

“Yes…”  It wasn't a story he told often.  “When I was young, a little younger than you, a villain attacked my hometown.  He had a quirk that could block out the sun and weaponize the darkness.  And he threatened to take the whole town hostage.”

“What do you mean weaponize?”

“It’s, hmm…  It’s difficult to explain.  But, in the absence of light, you could feel the darkness physically eating away at you.  Like a chemical burn that didn’t hurt, but still felt wrong…”  Midoriya tilted his head, perplexed.  “But that’s not important.  What is is that the villain gave a few-hour deadline for his demands to be met before he attacked.  I was in school at the time, and I planned to stay at another relative’s house for the weekend.  In the chaos of evacuating, both sides of my family assumed the other would take care of me…”

“They left you behind!?” 

He never did get used to the genuine shock that always came with telling this story.  Being abandoned was the least traumatizing part.  Stray memories surfaced.  He wasn't the only member of his middle school class to be left behind.  But he was the only one of them to come back to school after it was all over.  Toshinori blinked slowly. 

“Nana found me before I could get too hurt, and along with Gran Torino we road out the worst of it together in her house.  It was kind of like what we’re doing now,” he said with a little laugh.  Midoriya didn’t find the same amusement as he did.  Why would he?  Toshinori’s younger self didn’t have that either; he was too scared of such a massive attack and consumed with sorrow and denial that he had been abandoned by his loved ones to enjoy spending time with his teacher.  But the story had a point.  “When it was all over, she refused to let me go back to the people who neglected me.  I never heard her raise her voice in anger, not even in a fight, until she chewed out my parents…”  And boy was it a long time coming, he though nostalgically.  “Your mother’s words brought me back,” he said to his student.  I thought it was a losing battle, but unlike my folks, I wasn’t about to give you up without a fight.

“What happened after?  With your master, I mean.”  In the background, the rain had puttered out.

“I lived with her after that.  We had a couple more big villain scares but I always had somewhere safe to go.  All the way until…  Until my last year of high school…”  Deep breath.  “When she was murdered my All for One.”  Just saying it out loud caused a vortex in his chest.  Thirty years later, and it still destroys me. 

Midoriya must have seen it on his face.  “What was it like living with her?”

“Wonderful.”  The word tumbled out of his grateful smile.  “She was hilarious, always making terrible puns and pulling little pranks.  We’d get up early and go fly around the city, watch the sun come up from a different rooftop every time.  Never could agree on the best view.  We were both pretty mediocre cooks so when we worked together, we could make something decent half the time!” he laughed through forming tears.  “She, she was the best.”  When he thought about Nana yelling at his parents, he couldn’t quite remember their faces.  Only her.  “I…” he choked out.  “She was my mother, and I loved her.”  And there came the tears.

He almost forgot Midoriya was there until he passed over the tissue box.  Toshinori used his free hand to gently smooth back his boy’s curls.

“Thank you,” he whispered.

“You’re welcome,” he returned, equally quiet.  The boy watched solemnly as Toshinori nobly struggled to control his sniffling.  An unasked question perched on his lips.

“You…  Really loved her?  Like she was your mother?”  Something about his tone threw him off.

“Of course.  Why one earth would I lie about that?”

Midoriya was quiet for a few seconds more, before turning away slightly.  “…  Did she love you as a son?”

That stopped him in his tracks.

“…  I, I don’t think I’ve ever thought about it, my boy,” he answered truthfully.  He, of course, loved her to death.  But did she love him back?  She never said so.  Not with words anyway.  But the way she took the time to just be around him, even when they weren’t training.  How she listened to him rant when he was upset.  When believed in him like no one else did, that felt like love.  Not once did Toshinori ever feel unloved in Nana’s presence.  “But I don’t think it matters.  She taught and cared for me all the same.  And that was more than enough for me.”

Even if the love wasn’t mutual, that would be okay, he pondered.  Sure, it would hurt to find out she secretly hated my guts, but if she saw me as a student and nothing more, that doesn’t change how much everything she did meant for me…  And how much it still hurts that she’s gone.  He wiped his eyes.  Please, please don’t let Midoriya hurt this bad for this long when I’m gone.

Speaking of Midoriya, he looked away.  He stared at the floor, his hands folded tightly in his lap.  Slow, shaky breath passed out an audibly stuffy nose.  Trying not to cry.  Toshinori almost asked what was wrong, before it hit him.  Hard.

Oh.  That’s not what he that’s not what he was trying to ask, was it?

It shouldn’t have been a dilemma to speak up.  Of course he loved the boy.  He couldn’t imagine loving a son any more.  But that wasn’t a confession he could take back, and there was always the chance he was misreading the situation.  A poor call could risk that bond, especially in a moment that was already so vulnerable. 

But it matters...

So, he tested the waters first.

“Izuku?”  He stopped breathing at his given name.  Maybe a little too much right out the gate.  The rain stopped a while before.  “Do, do you remember, a month ago before all this started?  The night before the trip when we talked about Superman?”

A shaky nod.

“Do you remember calling me ‘dad?’”

A tiny gasp, before another nod.

Here goes…  “I…  I didn’t mind.  Not at all.  Still don’t.”

For a single, unending moment, the world stopped.  Toshinori stared straight forward at the dormant TV.  He didn’t dare check his successor’s reaction.  Silently, he prayed for something, anything, to break the horrible tension he caused.

And then it came: a painful, aching cry.  Izuku collapsed into himself, his arms tucked into his chest, and sobbed.  Toshinori wasn’t far behind.

“I’m so, so sorry, my boy,” he whispered.  With shaking hands he reached out to the small teenager beside him.  But before he could touch him, Izuku’s face snapped back towards him.  Both froze.  Poor kid looked like a mess.  Combined with the horrible choking gasps, it was like Toshinori physically hurt him.  And he hated himself for it.

Then, oh so slowly, Izuku went to grab the sleeve of Toshinori’s extended hand.  He held it tight, and tugged slightly, whimpering all the while.  The old hero didn’t dare move.  Izuku shifted in his seat, sitting up then leaning forward.  He scooted closer, crawling up Toshinori’s arm.  Before he even realized it, small scarred hands gripped the middle of his shirt, and the rest of his student’s weight fell into his chest.

Izuku was hugging him.

The emotion that bubbled in Toshinori’s core couldn’t be described.  Not once, in all the time they’d known one another, had Izuku been the one to initiate a hug.  He’d accepted them, leaned into them, but never started one himself.  What else could Toshinori do besides pull him closer?

“Oh, my boy.  My precious, precious boy…” he cried.  He wrapped his long arms around the small torso and squeezed until the kid was almost on his lap.  Then he buried his face in soft curly hair.  “I love you.  You know that, right?”

Izuku sobbed some more.  Toshinori realized where he’d heard these choking wails before.  That first day, after he told Izuku he could be a hero.  And then, the same on the beach after Kamino.  He was crying from relief. 

“I hate yelling at you.  You’ve had more than enough of that in your life.  I just want you to be happy.”  His body felt so small in his arms, not helped by rapid shakes.  Toshinori wrapped the boy in his little blanket.  “That’s why I give so much praise.  Not just because it’s true, but because you need to hear it.”  Toshinori’s own tears fell into Izuku’s hair.  “And I’m going to keep you here until you realize how much you matter.”  He kissed his forehead.  The crying got harder.  With his lips pressed against his skull, as if to force the words into his brain, he said: “You are absolutely precious, my son.  And my world would be so much darker without you…”

Not even two years had he known Izuku, and already he couldn’t picture life without him.  What would he have done?  Pick a different successor and live in ignorance of the light he missed?  Would he have realized something was missing?  Their first encounter was built on a precarious sequence of chance.  The terrifying possibility that they almost just missed one another shook Toshinori into his soul. 

And where would Izuku be?  Without my quirk and guidance?  He refused to picture the worst possible chance.  The chance of All Might not reaching the sludge villain in time.  Izuku had more than enough drive and intelligence; he would have been a shoo-in for gen-ed.  Surely, he would have been noticed by the other teachers.  But how would still being quirkless factor into the environment?  He held tighter. 

And where will he be after this? Toshinori wondered.  This wonderful, amazing person, caught between a child and an adult, who will have no shortage of hardship down the line.  He’s going to grow up and enter a world gunning to kill him.  I didn’t get many scars as a young man.  Will his grow with him, or stay as they are while his arms get longer?  What new scars will he acquire?  I…  I can’t protect him anymore.  He pressed another kiss to the top of his head.  Right now, he’s okay. He’s safe and warm and loved right here in my arms where he belongs.

The wailing died down to loud sniffles and hiccups.  Toshinori swayed back and forth as he nuzzled his beloved son’s hair.

“I-I’m so-orry,” he whimpered.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, son.”  Izuku moved his face into the crook of Toshinori’s neck.  They felt one-another's heartbeat.  The warmth was a comfort to both of them. 

They sat there together until it was well after midnight.  Toshinori knew the kid should be in bed.  But he wanted to just keep holding him, to make up for all the times he should have but didn’t.  But they could pick back up tomorrow, if Izuku wanted.

As if he were fragile, Toshinori gently moved his arms under his boy’s back and legs.

“I can walk.”

“I want to carry you.”

Stocky arms wrapped around his neck.  Toshinori thanked the moon and stars Izuku was just small enough for his thin arms to carry him to his room without too much trouble.  Then he prayed to those same stars that he would stay just this small forever.

He’d forgotten about Izuku’s earlier outburst until he stepped inside.  Some shelves and pictures had been knocked down, and a few of their pieces sat in the little trashcan in the corner.  The destruction was restrained compared to what it sounded like before.  The blackout curtain was clumsily put back in place with layers of tape over the windowsill.  He’d assess the damage tomorrow.

“M’sorry,” his son whispered.

“It’s alright.”  He pulled back the sheets before gently setting the boy down.  Izuku held on a moment in a final hug.  Toshinori chuckled.  The plushie version of him had been thrown into a corner.  Izuku accepted it from him gingerly, then curled up with it while the real thing tucked him in.  Toshinori sat on the floor beside his bed a moment.  A stranger wouldn’t have been able to pin the soft, freckled face before him as the next Symbol of Peace.  Maybe that was for the best.  “Goodnight, Izuku,” he murmured.

“Goodnight, Dad.” 

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

And there was that wonderfully warm feeling again.

He’s going to be okay.  He’ll grow up.  Conquer the world with his smile.  Be the unshakable pillar the world needs, Toshinori had no doubt.  Someday, but not tonight.  Tonight, he is a small, anxious child who deserves all the love in the world.  Toshinori didn’t have the world, but everything in his heart belonged to his son.

Chapter Text

Toshinori launched into the air.  The near-freezing air of the nighttime desert burned his ears.  He could barely see where he was going, but had to set those worries aside.  There was no time.  Hard as he kept pushing, the mountains silhouetted against a starry sky never seemed to get closer.  And it had been hours.

But he couldn’t stop.  There was no telling when he’d get another chance like this.  Purple heat lightning flashed in the distance.  The pale lights of a town weren’t far off.  Metal screeched in place of thunder.  He was finally catching up.

His scar ached.  Toshinori stumbled on the landing.  Another flash, a close one, lit up behind giant pillars of rock.

Monument Valley, Toshinori’s mind supplied.  He didn’t think about how far from the start he’d given chase, or how much the danger the natural wonder was in.  Instead: Me and Dave went camping here.  Almost thirty years ago now…  He lept again, sailing over the great mesas like he wasn’t allowed to back then.  We watched Stagecoach for class, and I wouldn’t shut up about the scenery.  One weekend, Dave shoved me in the car, and we drove out here…  In a way, he’s the reason I’m here again.

He thought of Melissa.  None of this would have happened if he had accepted her invitation.  Toshinori assumed the expo would just be a break he couldn’t afford.  There were child murderers back home to track.  Then his best friend got kidnapped and his superweapon stolen.  The image of Dave’s body covered in ants and sand flashed across his brain.  He couldn’t bare to imagine what Melissa’s reaction was going to be.  And all because Toshinori thought a three-day weekend was too much time off.

At long last, Toshinori caught up to the storm.  Harsh purple light pulsed through smoke in time with mechanical crashes and howls.  From high in the air, he punched a shockwave through the artificial storm.  Hazed cleared back, revealing a writhing mass of metal tentacles. 

They launched at him.  Each was as thick as Toshinori’s torso, and had a searchlight in the middle of grabbing fingers.  He used another punch to push himself out of their line of sight.  Dozens swarmed trying to find him again.  Above them, the storm was back.  Toshinori propelled off a mountain.  Each oversized wire was a stepping stone to his goal.  They were no match for his speed.

Beyond the clouds, a mountain of scrap metal the size of an aircraft carrier hovered over the desert.  Pieces creaked and sparked as they folded over one another.  Small gas fires burned between the cracks.  The smell of gasoline was suffocating.  Electrical wires snaked in and out of the wastes as if alive.  Nothing settled, nothing stopped. 

Just punching wouldn’t work.  Toshinori had to be smart.  With the tentacles hot on his tail, he jumped up and over the mess of metal, searching for a potential weak point with increasing desperation.  His training said that once physical weaknesses were out, you were supposed to go for psychological ones.  But he didn’t see that helping this situation.  Any other world, he wouldn’t have bothered to remember Wolfram’s name.  He was a low-level arms dealer; his biggest client prior was a network of doomsday preppers.  He came from an average family, and got into crime for the thrill after dropping out of college.  Not to mention, Dave’s notes about the prototype quirk enhancer implied that prolonged use would impair judgement.  There was no way of knowing what he was after, just that he was moving fast and sucking up any metal he passed over.  Not that the villain would be able to hear Toshinori try to talk it out over the screech of his moving metal cocoon.

A new noise joined the cacophony.  Shadows flashed with the lightning.  Fighter jets.

No!  You idiots! 

As soon as they fired, it was over.  The mass twisted inward, then opened.  The missiles disappeared into the gargantuan mouth of the industrial animal, their explosions lost among the clangs.  When the jets circled back around, the tentacles were waiting.  The lights blinded the pilots long enough for great metal stalks to shoot up into their path.  Fire and debris rained down through the smog out of sight.

“Dammit!” he breathed through gritted teeth. 

But there was no time to mourn.  The flying junkyard shifted again.  Toshinori jumped out of the way of rotating plates, still dodging the searchlights.  Smoke billowed out of new openings.  He coughed blood.  It was getting harder to breath.

Suddenly, a dozen more lights burst to life above him.  The other tentacles zeroed in.  Toshinori spiral-jumped straight up, spinning his arms to clear the fog.  A giant, shark-like robotic head appeared.  The dozen lights were really hundreds of smaller ones clustered together like the compound eyes of insects.  It had a pseudo-jaw lined with teeth made of the wings of drones used to attack it earlier.  And in the center, nearly lost behind the light, was Wolfram, his skin and muscles fused to his terrible machine.  Unmoving. 

Toshinori didn’t hesitate.  With aching legs and lung, he rocketed straight at the villain.  Wolfram threw solid metal cubes the size of mansions at him, which he weaved under.  He didn’t bother hiding from the tentacles anymore.  Even when he decapitated them, they kept coming.  Scrap crawled up to form new heads all the while.  New electrified arms joined the fray.  They buzzed and flashed in an effort to disturb Toshinori’s focus.  And in his exhausted state, it was starting to work.

No!  Absolutely not!  He jumped as high as he could, and put all the power he had left into two falling fists.  “Double Detroit Smash!”  He hit the surface like a bomb, sending a shockwave both through the air and across the machine. 

The snake head staggered. 

This is my chance!  He ran.  Toshinori ran harder and faster than he ever had.  The world is depending on me! 

Wolfram formed three more cubes. 

Melissa is depending on me! 

They burst like fireworks, and the pieces went flying at him. 

I can’t let Dave’s death go unpunished!  After a great wind-up, he swung his arm and blew the first wave of shards aside.  They clinked as they hit the junk around him.  I can’t leave Melissa alone!  He was slower the second time.  A stray bit grazed his leg. 

Wolfram tried to pull the floor from under him.  He made it into a fourth cube. 

You’re just a street thug who got lucky!  It’s Dave’s machine that granted you this bastard power!  He split the third swarm right down the middle.  Wolfram was less than a hundred feet away.  You are nothing!  I’ll tear you apart!  I’ll drag you back to Melissa and make you beg for your life.  The pieces chased him.  No!  They won’t even find you!  I’ll ki-i-

“An alarm is here!”

Toshinori shot up in bed, panting.  He immediately grabbing at a fading phantom pain in his neck.  He was in his room.  Three in the morning.  It was raining outside.  That dumb alarm on his phone was going off.  He turned the blasted noise off, and sighed. 

Just a dream, just a dream…  The expo was months ago.  Dave and Melissa are fine…  Still breathing hard, he let his face fall into his hands.  Fuck whatever that was.  He took a few deep, controlled breathes to stop the shaking in his hands. 

The alarm was for food.  Without a stomach, he couldn’t eat big meals in one go.  He couldn’t even feel hunger.  So, he had to eat something small every four hours.  Unfortunately, two of those meals cut into his sleep schedule.

What the fuck was that dream?  Have I even thought about that discount-Magneto bastard since then?  Toshinori wiped his sweaty brow.  Just to be sure, he looked up Dave and the incident on his phone.  His friend’s status was listed as under house arrest.  Melissa’s most recent social media post was less than a day ago; I-Island moved up near Alaska and she posted a photo of the northern lights.  They’re fine…

The news articles about the event described All Might thwarting a terrorist attack.  Rarely were the kids mentioned, and never by name.  Nothing about how Toshinori’s victory would have been impossible without the help of his successor.  That brought on a smile.  Even if it was just a moment, he got to fight side by side with his boy.  Without Izuku, he might have…

Died.  I would have died…  Oh god, no. 

Butterfly found them.  Toshinori’s blood ran cold.  It was one of the death dreams.  It had to be.  He shot up and moved to run to Izuku’s room.  But something told him to stop.  And listen.

Something shuffled around.  There was the distinct sound of glass sliding across class as it moved things around in the fridge.  The sound was faint, almost too quiet to hear over the blood pounding in Tosinori’s ears.  It came from the complete opposite side of the apartment to his and Izuku’s doors.

It hasn’t attacked yet… he realized with a jolt.  It would have used the sleep quirk if it was.  My alarm wouldn’t have woken me up.  Maybe it doesn’t know either of us are here…  The question was: what to do now?  Perhaps it’s only here for the food.  If I stay quiet, it will just keep eating and move on when it’s done.  Toshinori’s hands shook in the air in front of the doorknob.  But what if it does know?  Maybe food powers its quirks and it’s stocking up for the fight.  Why else would it know to come to this building, this specific unit?  The reports said it got a hold of tracker quirks.  But that would mean…  He swallowed.  That would mean it came here for Izuku…  God fucking dammit!

Toshinori took a deep breath, and placed his forehead against the door before exhaling as quietly as he could.  He bit back frustrated tears.  Then, he grabbed his phone to message Naomasa.

“Butterfly is here.  It hasn’t gone for Izuku yet, just eating, but I’m going to try and distract it.  Make sure Izuku gets out safe.”

He didn’t wait for Naomasa to text him it was a bad idea.  That was obvious.  But his friend’s team was stationed across the street.  They needed time to gear up and get over there.  Time that Butterfly could use to change his mind about the meal.

Toshinori opened the door forcefully, just in time to catch sight of a shadow breaking from the light of the fridge.  Then silence.  He took a cautious step into the hallway, pausing briefly at Izuku’s door.  The school kept his phone so it couldn’t be tracked.  If Toshinori went in to check on him, it would alert Butterfly to his presence, if that was not the case already.  So he kept walking. 

Sweat dripped down his neck.  Toshinori wasn’t a stranger to fear in the face of a villain.  Bravado aside, failure was always a possibility to be worried about.  If not for his own safety, then the safety of others.  But before, he still had some tools to deal with the situation.  Now, he was a skinny old man with no stomach and one lung, up alone against an eldritch horror.  The life or death stakes were more poignant than ever.  If he failed, Izuku could die.  Even if the kid managed to escape, it would very likely be because Toshinori gave his own life.  As willing as he was to sacrifice himself, he was under no delusion that it would destroy his son’s heart.  Just like his own was shattered by the loss of Nana.  He couldn’t do that to his boy.  And he couldn’t just do nothing.

But what the fuck can I do?

The first thing he noticed upon reaching the kitchen was the dark figure in the far corner.  But he pretended not to.  He recalled the briefing about a quirk Butterfly stole that made him invisible to anyone who didn’t already know he was there.  In a split-second decision, Toshinori decided to play along. 

A few bowls of leftovers were stacked on the table.  The one with plain rice was open and had hand-sized scoop out of it.  Toshinori sighed in mock frustration, and picked up some loose grains with his fingers.  All the while in the corner of his eye, the figure remained still.  He would have to turn his back on it to put the leftovers away in the fridge.  Not the most appealing of thoughts, but he needed to keep up the charade.  The plan had no end goal beyond keeping the bastard’s attention in time for reinforcements.  He stacked as many bowls as he could, and turned around.

He smelled it before he saw it.  The stench of an old corpse wasn’t one you could get used to, even after three decades of hero work.  But one could train themselves not to react.  Toshinori restocked his fridge with the patience of a saint, despite his burning lung.  He paused a moment after the last bowl to listen, and caught raggedy breathing, which stopped after a moment once it realized he heard it.  How did I not hear it coming?  The charade was up.  He closed the fridge.

Butterfly stood there.  Just stood.  Less than two meters away right out of the range of the kitchen light.  It was shorter than Toshinori thought it would be; maybe reaching halfway up his chest if it wasn’t hunched over.  It swayed ever so slightly in place, as if dizzy or drunk.  The clothing it wore was dark and baggy, with an obvious mass under the fabric on his back.  The wings.  Ratty shoes covered in duct tape tracked dirt over the kitchen floor.  Matted black hair leaked from under the hood, obscuring most of the face.  But the eyes were still visible.  Beady red eyes that stared right into Toshinori’s soul.

They stayed there, still and silent save the dry gurgle of its mouth-breathing, for a whole minute. 

Toshinori weighed his options in the meantime.  The red pupils mean erasure is activated.  I don’t need to worry about a quirk I don’t have, but depending on his reaction time, I might be able to get a hit in when it blinks.  He eyed the hoodie.  On the side of the head, just above the jaw, is the top of the vagus nerve, which connects to the digestive tract, lungs, and heart.  A hard-enough hit to the right spot might knock it unconscious.  Could also cause a brain hemorrhage.  It’s close enough to the counter I could slam its head into the edge.  And I recon I’ve got enough juice left for a One for All boost.  It had yet to blink.  But would I be quick enough to catch it off guard?  Would it be strong enough to resist?

It was hard to look for tells without seeing the face.  But he could see the eyes scanning him.  It was making plans too.  The vagus strategy was too big a risk, he decided.  He didn’t stand a chance against the wings.  Its grotesque nails poked out from the oversized sleeves tucked close to its torso.  Toshinori recalled the injury report of the League member it attacked.

Toga was able to hold a conversation with this thing.  The timeline is fuzzy, but Naomasa said she wasn’t lying…

“H-hello,” he began to little reaction.  “What are you doing in my home?”

Butterfly’s eyes twitched as if in disbelief, but still didn’t blink.  Toshinori could almost hear it running the numbers on how to respond, if it was going to at all.  So he kept playing ignorance.

“L-look, you’re really not suppo-“

“A-are you All Mi-ight?”

That caught him off guard.  “W-well, uh, yes.  Yes, I am.  O-or I was, I suppose…”  The words spilled out with the blood.  Butterfly watched it dribble down his chin intensely.  Needless to say, it was not a pleasant way to be looked at.  “Who, who are you?”

“Wha-at h-appened to yo-ou?”  Butterfly’s voice played like the distorted audio of a cursed VHS tape.  The pitch was low and choppy, while the sound itself seemed to come from everywhere at once.  The rational part of Toshinori’s brain said that it’s an obvious voice-changer quirk.  But everything else was hyperaware that his skinny ass was the only thing between the monster in front of him and his son in the other room, so he wasn’t in the best position to keep calm. 

“I, um, well, I fought a very powerful villain.  Six?  Yes, six years ago now,” he rambled.  “He did a number on my organs, and I had to have a few removed.  I didn’t take very good care of myself those first few years of recovery after that…  Heh…”  Butterfly stayed quiet.  I can’t believe I’m actually talking to this thing.  “The-en, a couple months ago, I fought that same villain.  I won, but now I can’t really use my quirk anymore…”

“S-ame?” Butterfly questioned.  A wave of dread passed through Toshinri’s heart, then faded.  “No.  Wa-sn’t the sa-ame.”

The hell do you mean it wasn’t the same villain?  What the fuck are you?  “Yes, it was the same villain.  A terrible man called All for One.”  If he was a nomu, he might know that already.  If he means there’s two of those bastards running around, I swear…

“All fo-or One…”  It broke eye contact a moment contemplatively.  “Yo-ou, you fought hi-im twice?”

“And won twice,” Toshinori declared.  “Though, I still lost quite a bit I suppose.”  He held up his skeletal arm, which Butterfly followed with its gaze.  It lifted its own arm slightly, long enough for Toshinori to see an impossibly thin wrist, before it tucked it back even closer to its body.  Well, that was something.

“Wh-at about Wolfr-am?”

“What about him?”  You’re the one handing out death dreams.  There was something unfathomably patronizing about this thing who was here to kill his kid just chatting him up about his past fights.

“Wh-en you fought -im.  What happen-ed?”  The voice cracked a bit at the end.

“He attacked the I-Expo and took my friend David hostage.  I stopped him,” he explained simply.  You can somehow access undercover info about the League of Villains but never heard about a terrorist attack? 

“Did he h-ave the quirk en-ancer when you f-ought him?”

Toshinori froze.  The existence of that device wasn’t on any record, public or private, save the I-Island archives.  The machine itself was destroyed.  That Butterfly knew of its existence at all disturbed him.  Yet not the outcome of the attack.  Something weird was up.

“Y-yes…”

“And you sti-ill be-et him?”

“I did.”

“How?”

“I powered through th-“

“LIE!”

Dread spiked Toshinori’s chest.  He doubled over, clutching his shirt while Butterfly breathed hard over him.  A lie-detector quirk.  For a moment, he thought that was it.  Butterfly had him at its mercy.  He was well and truly powerless, and that hurt like nothing else.  But the hurt in his chest subsided. 

“Tell the truth,” Butterfly commanded, clear as day.  Those burned a hole in his soul.

Toshinori sat back up, tears forming.  “I,” -he swallowed- “I had help.  I only won because, ‘cause I had help.”

“From who-o?”  Its voice wavered again.

With what little defiance he could muster into a whisper: “I think you already know.”

Butterfly stumbled back further away from the light.  Its hands and shoulders shivered.  Breathing became hissing.

“The other o-one…”  No distortion.  Toshinori was almost shocked to hear a human voice come out of it.  A young voice.  The rain outside almost drowned it out.

“Did, did you make that dream of Wolfram killing me?” he asked.

“No,” it, he, responded.  “S-aw it on the ne-ews.”  Red eyes flickered.

“The news?  Wha-“  The pieces snapped together.  Dozens of stories came to mind.  “The dreams, the ones me and the students had…”  Dreams of death.  Dreams not everyone had.  “They really happened where you’re from, didn’t they?  …  Another timeline?”

Butterfly nodded just once.  He was starting to look concerned himself.  Coming from another dimension probably wasn’t a popular guess.  Toshinori was so enamored with his reaction that he barely reacted himself. 

“And why did you come here?”

“No!” he barked.  Butterfly shook his head over and over with his eyes closed. 

But Toshinori didn’t strike.  Something was wrong.  Something was very, very wrong.  It didn’t make sense.  So what this thing came from another dimension?  What did he want?  What could possibly motivate him to come after…  No.  It made too much sense.  But he didn’t want it to.

“Come, come into the light.  So, I can see you,” he whispered.  Butterfly didn’t move, so Toshinori did.  He crouched down in front of the small figure.  Erasure stopped.  Heart pounding, he reached out.  Butterfly eyed his hands suspiciously, but let him remove his hood.

Holy shit…  Gnarled and matted hair curtained around sickly pale skin shrink-wrapped over bone.  His nose was clogged with dried blood, and surrounded by deep scars across his cheeks.  His mouth hung open to breathe, revealing a nest of too many teeth.  Some skin was loose around his neck, a telltale sign of rapid weight loss.  Similar wrinkled bags pulled down his eyelids, leaving his eyes ready to fall out at the slightest hit.  It made his already huge eyes appear even bigger.  He looked older and younger at the same time.  But those eyes, scratched and dull and out of focus, were green.

No…  No!  Toshinori bit his lip and shook his head, retracting his hands away from the face.  The DNA.  The knowledge of quirks.  The target.  This isn’t right!  This can’t be happening.  It’s a trick.  It has to be!  It has to be a trick!  He was crying now.  If Butterfly had a reaction, he couldn’t see it through his tears.  But he could see what was at his feet. 

Shoes.  Blocky and covered in tape, toes just reaching the light.  Practically falling apart at the seams even with the tape.  The color had faded to orange, but they were still the same ones.

The other one.  Toshinori looked back into green eyes that he knew and loved with all his heart.

“I-Izuku?”

The boy flinched back.  On instinct, Toshinori reached out for him.  The dread squeezed hard, then stopped suddenly.  Right as his fingers reached the side of his face.  His skin was deathly cold, devoid of any softness it was supposed to have.  There were bugs scrawling in his hair.  He stood rigid, staring straight forward through Toshinori rather than at him.  Ever so gently, Toshinori caressed the mauled cheek.  How long had it been since that child knew a kind touch?

“It’s okay,” Toshinori breathed.  “I’m here.  I’ve got you.”

Butterfly broke.  His faced scrunched up and he coughed up a sad attempt at the relieved wails Toshinori heard earlier that night.  But no tears.  On shaking legs, he stepped into his hero’s waiting arms.  He was so small.  Toshinori could feel every single rib even under the thick hoodie.  He couldn’t get his arms all the way around the mass of wings.  The boy squealed painfully at so much as a brush.  Something, or more likely many things, terrible and unnatural had been done to this child.  So he settled for one hand at his neck, the other the back of his head, while both squeezed him close into Toshinori’s shoulder.  Weak, clawed hands clung to his nightshirt, inches from his chest.

That was the moment the fog cleared. 

Get it together! his brain screamed.  That’s a villain with a body count in the thirties!  He could turn on you any moment!  That’s the thing that’s been hurting your boy!  Butterfly, Izuku, coughed and shivered, before huddling closer.  His bloody nose was cold against Toshinori’s neck.  But he is my boy…

Chapter Text

As hard as he tried throughout his life, Toshinori knew he could never be Superman.  He couldn’t fly halfway around the world in a second, he couldn’t fight back a natural disaster with his bare hands, and he couldn’t turn back time to save someone he loved.  But it was the little things he longed for most.  The quiet, calm things.  A serene presence to ease troubled hearts.  The great empathy to connect with every living thing he encountered.  Always knowing the right thing to say, especially to a child standing on the edge of a roof.  Toshinori was not Superman, and the child in his arms stood at the edge of something far worse.

What do I do?  What the fuck do I do? Toshinori screamed in his mind over and over.  The embrace lasted long enough for reason to catch up.  This is, was, no is Izuku.  Butterfly is Izuku.  Another one.  From another dimension.  Who’s trying to kill the one from here.  The one who’s right there in the other room.  What the fuck!?  It was only years of hero training and experience that Toshinori kept his emotions in check.  An active situation was still in progress.  One where he was technically a hostage.  He needed to focus.  Here was the opportunity to learn about, if not subdue a major threat without immediate violence.  Though all he wanted to do was break down and run to his boy.  But this is my boy too.  Isn’t he?

The other Izuku stubbled as Toshinori tried to end that hug.  All of his weight had been leaning on him.  He hardly felt any of it.  Under all that baggy clothing, the kid was dangerously skinny.  And he smelled like he died days ago.  So much wrong.  So much wrong…  Toshinori held shoulders bonier than his own.  Izuku’s face had all the marks of heavy crying, wobbly lip, scrunched cheeks, bloodshot eyes, but no tears.  I have to do something…

“I…,” he began with a whisper.  “I suppose you’re hungry…”  I am a fucking idiot.

“Ye-es!” Izuku squeaked pathetically.  His clawed hands still, albeit weakly, gripped Toshinori’s nightshirt.

Toshinori cringed for the first time of dozens more that night.  “Wh-what would you like?  You, heh, saw what I had in the fridge earlier…” he tried to joke.

“F-ood,” came the desperate response.

This is gonna be a long night…  “How about this.  I heat you up some rice right now-”

“Pl-ease!”

“Hold on, hold on.”  Toshinori slowly reached for the other one’s wrists while he spoke.  “Rice now.  Then after you eat that, you go take a shower.  And I’ll make you a real meal in the meantime.  Okay?”  He felt his shirt fall free, but didn’t dare break eye contact.

“…  Ok-ay.”

Toshinori slowly rose to his feet.  Something told him sudden movements were a bad idea.  But another thought said overt caution would anger the kid.  He backed away to the fridge without looking away.  Izuku just watched.  Toshinori turned to look for the rice he stuck his hand in earlier, then looked back again.  The kid was back on his feet, but in the same spot.  Does he respect personal space or is he up to something? he wondered.  It took two minutes to get the rice from the fridge into the microwave.

“Wash your hands,” he said absent-mindedly.

Izuku obediently shuffled over to the sink.  The faucet turned on before the kid grabbed the handle.  His sleeves rolled themselves up, revealing tiny colorful patches on both arms.  Water seemed heavy on his shaky hands.

“…  C-an I eat bef-ore the sh-ower?” he mumbled.  The faucet turned off.  Lingering water droplets fell from his fingers all at once, drying them instantly.

“The rice yes.  But I’m gonna make something that takes time to cook, so you might as well.”  Negotiating dinner.  Just like Izuku.

“You d-on’t have to coo-k.  I’ll eat wha-atever.”

“It’s not just…  I can see the bugs crawling in your hair, kid.” 

He recoiled as if he was just now realizing it himself.  The faucet turned back on before Izuku looked back at it.  He leaned over the sink and placed his palm on the bottom.

“Drown.”

His hair twitched.  A writhing wave of tiny insects poured from it, flowing down his neck, shoulder, and arm into the sink.  They formed a layer on top of the water, before spiraling down the drain.  Once they were all gone, Izuku looked back to a stunned Toshinori.

Was that Anivoice?  Young Koda’s quirk?

The microwave beeped.

Wordlessly, he pulled out a chair for Izuku, which he used his telekinesis to turn to the side so his wings would have room.  Toshinori prayed the loud screech against the floor didn’t wake his Izuku.  The other one wasted no time, digging his clawed hands into the hot rice and shoveling it into his mouth.  He leaned into the chairback as he scratched the edges of the dish to get every last grain.  Eyes searched desperately for more once they were gone.  Toshinori didn’t even have a chance to sit down.

“There’s…  There’s more where that came from, I promise…”  he swallowed.  “Let’s just get you cleaned up first.”

Izuku half-limped, half-floated down the hall behind Toshinori on the way to the bathroom.  The fabric of his pants bounced loosely with each step, indicating skinny legs beneath them.  That, combined with the limited motion in his hands and all the casual telekinesis led to the theory that he was using a quirk to help him walk too.  But why all that?

The answer would haunt Toshinori’s mind for the rest of his life.  With the bath water running, he was about to leave when he saw Izuku struggling with his hoody.  His boney fingers barely gripped the fabric.  With each tug, he squinted in pain.

“Would you like some help?” Toshinori ventured.

“…  Ye-es,” the boy breathed.

Slowly and gently, Toshinori peeled the hoodie off from the bottom.  And he regretted his offer. 

Even at his lowest point, when he was skipping meals not out of forgetfulness but active self-harm, it wasn’t as bad as this.  His stomach was so thin, Toshinosi could have touched his thumbs and middle fingers together around it.  What looked like black shrapnel covered his shoulders, along with scars indicating he tried to scratch them out.  Every bone in Izuku’s torso was visible.  His shoulder joints, the top of his hips, his ribcage.  Dear god his ribcage.  Skin was stretched so tight over top of it, it looked about to tear.  Crisscrossing scars showed where they had.  Unnatural curves and intents told of previous breaks that hadn’t healed properly.  One was so bad, it looked like two ribs were missing on one side.  A star-shaped patch of scarred skin bloomed out all the way to his slightly concave sternum.  Close to the same spot of Toshinori’s own scar.  He wanted to throw up.

The wings made them selves known.  The feathered ones were folded up tight in an unnatural square spiral, with the spikes pressed against the top of the pile.  Each effort to loosen the coil sent clicks and crunches echoing through the bathroom.  Once far enough away from his back, the crooked angles popped back into something resembling the joints of birds’ wings.  Massive curtains of feathers flanked Toshinori on either side.  There were gaps and bald spots all over.  Even in the large master bathroom they barely fit.  The bat wings were tucked beneath them.  No.  The bases were fused to the feathered wings.  The same sickly pale as the rest of Izuku’s skin, the bottom of the membrane was full of tears.  Watching them unfurl made painfully it clear what was happening.  His bones had been broken in order to fit such large limbs so close to his body.  They grinded against one another under thin skin as they shifted out and back into place.  Numerous kinks remained in the skinny wing fingers. 

Why do broken bones have to be the constant? Toshinori thought.

A third pair of wings, feathered and black like the first but shorter than Izuku’s arms, dropped limp from his side.

Izuku let out a strained sigh.  Toshinori tried to steady him by putting his hands on his shoulders, but he flinched away.  Shoulder flesh pulled tightly up into the wing.  He propped himself up with his wings on the floor and picked at the color patches on his arms.  The first, a green square, came off like a sticker.  Then he unfolded it over and over until it was a full-sized photo album. 

The one stolen from the Midoriyas’ apartment, Toshinori remembered. 

Picture frames, spare clothes, and a familiar burnt notebook followed. 

“Is, is it okay if I take these out of here while you get clean?”  He rubbed the back of his head.  “It’s gonna get pretty steamy in here and I don’t want them to get messed up.”

Izuku looked between his stuff on the sink and Toshinori.  “Oka-ay…”  He took the offered hands and let the man guide him into the giant tub.  Toshinori barely felt a grip.

He’s so gentle.  Holy shit his arms are thinner than mine!  It’s not right!  Izuku tottered as he tried to step over the rim.  Toshinori held on carefully.  He felt like any pressure greater than a pinch would shatter bones.  He could start popping off fingers with a squeeze.  Maybe I should.  This is a villain.  He tried to kill Izuku!

Izuku looked up at him with wide eyes as he lowered himself into the warm water.  It was a familiar face, one that said: ‘please take care of me.’

…  But he is Izuku.

That unwavering trust was the real horror.  Every inch of his body inside and out told of hurt and abuse on levels Toshinori wouldn’t have been able to fathom a few hours prior.  And yet here he was, allowing himself to be naked and vulnerable in front of him.  All Might.  His favorite hero.  A complete stranger.  All of this was wrong.  And yet it was the same.

“Are you okay here?” Toshinori asked, releasing the boy’s clawed hands. 

“…  Y-s.”  Matted locks and loose feathers floated on the water’s surface.  His eyelids closed slightly.

“It’s, uh, been a while.  Hasn’t it?”

“…  Mhmm.”  Izuku let his chin sink under.

“I’ll leave you to it then.  I’ll go start dinner.  Holler if you need something…” he whispered.  Then he grabbed the stuff, and shut the door behind him.

There’s no way it’s this fucking easy, he thought.  He examined the shoes in his hands.  They reeked.  Everywhere that wasn’t covered in tape was filthy and faded, but they were the same sneakers he knew so well.  For some reason, he expected them to change once they were off.  Biting his lip, he put them by the door and returned to the kitchen.  I need a plan.

The apartment was quiet.  Too quiet to talk to anyone.  Toshinori went for his phone again to alert Naomasa.

[I’ve calmed Butterfly for now]

[Whatever you do don’t come in unless I yell for you]

Saying he was Izuku from another dimension would raise too many questions.  He got out all the stuff for katsudon and started prepping.  The response came a minute later.

[And what is your plan?]

[Get him to come willingly?]

[I don’t know]

[maybe]

[He’s just a kid and hes sick]

[What about the kid you’re supposed to be protecting?]

“Shit…” Toshinori breathed.  If this Izuku wasn’t going to go quietly, neither would his own.  As soon as he knew the other one was in the building, he’d go into hero mode and try to protect his teacher.  What.  The fuck.  Do I do?  Come on, S-rank intelligence, fucking work…

He looked down at the notebook.  A red sticky tab poked.  Heart pounding, he opened it. 

Quirks.  Dozens of them.  Names and short descriptions packed the pages.  Some had lines through them while others were written tiny in the margins.  Anivoice, Erasure, Fire Breath, Pull, Sticker, Unbreakable Nails, and Wings: albatross, bat, and cherub.  Those were just on the first page.  It went on for three more.  The handwriting grew less familiar and the descriptions briefer as they went on.  Some were circled in red pen, such as Mana Healing and Osteokinesis.  The latter gave the boy complete control over his own bones, including the ability to break them on command.  Something called Bridge Between lacked a description, but the name implied that was the interdimensional quirk.  But on the last page, in huge red letters, read:

ALL FOR ONE

Toshinori slammed the book shut.

[I’m going to distract Butterfly and send Izuku to you.]

[Be ready to take him.]

[…]

[Okay]

[Be careful]

Going into Izuku’s room wasn’t an option.  What if the other one heard?  Instead, he wrote instructions on a scrap of paper and slipped it under the door. 

Please understand, my boy… 

Toshinori returned to the bathroom with katsudon and a bag of chips.  The other Izuku looked like he hadn’t moved at first.  The top of his hair was wet.  His nose was bloodier than before, but he breathed out of it now.  Red chunks clung to the edge of the tub.  He perked up slightly at the hero’s return, and even more so when a familiar scent entered his orbit.

“-atsud-on!” he said half underwater.

“That’s right,” Toshinori responded with a forced smile.  “Dinner in a warm bath, how great is that?”

Izuku propped up the bowl with a wing, unaffected by the heat.  Unlike the rice, he savored this one.  It was his favorite, after all.  Or at least he tried to.  The first few bites were slow, but he quickly gave that up for shoveling everything he could at once. 

Toshinori couldn’t watch.  Instead, he dug through his bathroom to find his hair dryer and electric razor.  A scattered thought from the back of his mind told him to kill Butterfly with them.  Plug them in and drop ‘em in the tub.  He paused.  I’m a hero, and that’s a child.  I’m no murderer.  But he is.  Shut up.

“H-how’s about a haircut?” he called back holding the razor up.  Izuku tilted his head.  “I-I don’t think I’m gonna be able to brush all those knots out.  This’ll be faster and a lot less painful.”  He sank further into the water.  “Isn’t all that hair bothering you?”

Heavy ropes of soggy hair clung to his face.  “…  F-ne,” he relented.  The bat wings rose from the water to rest on the rim. 

“You don’t have to get out yet if you don’t want to.”

“S’get it o-ver with,” he hissed.

Toshinori rushed over with a towel.  Before he helped him out, he poured a bucket of the bathwater over his head.  Izuku tensed, then sighed.  He reached out for Toshinori’s arm.  The man wrapped him in a towel as best he could without touching the wings, after which he led him to sit on a bench and dried his hair with another towel.  Izuku winced under his hands.

Is this about being touched or is he in pain?

“It’ll be easier if we blow-dry it first, is that alright?”

“J-ust do i-it.”  He was starting to get annoyed and Toshinori did not want to test how short his fuse was.  So, he got to work. 

The purpose of the hair thing was twofold.  On the one hand, Izuku would feel much better if he didn’t have a massive bug nest on top of his head.  On the other, the noise from the blow-dryer and razor could cover the other Izuku’s escape.  Hopefully it would be enough to wake him up.  He’d check the clock and wonder, ‘what the heck is All Might doing with a blow-dryer at four in the morning?’  The curious and anxious boy would surely get up to investigate and step on Toshinori’s note:

My son,

Detective Tsukauchi is right outside the from door.  Go to him quietly when the noise is going.  He will explain.  Be careful.

I love you,

-Dad

The quiet horror of being one of the only people that kid listened to came back with a vengeance.  Toshinori stood at the other Izuku’s back, hands in his hair, with two massive spiked wings facing away but rigid less than a meter from his face.  He was only that close because he was allowed to be.  His own Izuku might actually follow those instructions coming from him.  But he still didn’t know that Butterfly was himself. 

What if he still thinks it’s his dad?  He might think the letter is a trap!  Toshinori listened desperately for any sound that wasn’t the blow-dryer.  He kept going longer than he needed to just in case. 

He relented eventually.  The other Izuku sat still as a corpse the whole time.  Toshinori could count the bones in his neck.  Scars from what looked like an animal outlined his already prominent hip bones.  The tinier feathered wings sat in his lap along with his hands.  More feathers fell loose.  His embows were full of the black shrapnel too.  Bones pushed against skin where the bat and larger bird wings fused.  Something told him that wasn’t the only place where two quirks didn’t play nice.

“Ready for me to start shaving?”

He shrugged his shoulders.  At east he was breathing out of his nose again.

Removing the near pound of hair revealed two things.  The first was a large dent in the back right of the boy’s skull.  He didn’t react when Toshinori shaved the area, so it was must have healed.  The second was two things: cracked black lumps above his temples that looked like burnt tree stumps.  Izuku whined when he touched them.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”  Toshinori backed off before the wings flinched.  He felt like he was about to have a heart attack every time they moved. 

They relaxed slightly.  “S-rry,” Izuku said back to him.  “They -urt.”

“It’s okay.”  He stepped closer.  “What are they?  I-if you don’t mind me asking?”

“A-antl-ers,” he replied.  He scratched at the similar black marks on his elbow.  “Got r-id of the qu-irk and they br-oke…”

Toshinori didn’t know what to say.  Things were quiet again for a while.

After Izuku’s head was fully shaved, Toshinori wiped loose hairs away with a wet washcloth.  This was also the point where he ran out of plan.  The boy leaned back into his hand motions.  The same way his own boy did sometimes.

All I can do right now is talk to him.

“Does that feel better?”

“…  Y-eah,” he whispered.

“Okay.  Wait here one sec,” Toshinori sighed and stood up.  He returned with a bag of chips from the kitchen.  Izuku started eating in a flash.  “The clothes you had are looking a little haggard.  I’m gonna go see if I have something better for you.  You good here for now?”

“Mhmm,” he hummed through a mouthful, not even looking up.

Toshinori dug through his closet.  He still had a lot of his baggy clothing from when he could still turn into All Might.  They’d fit the wings much better.  And since he planned to throw them out anyway, he could cut holes in the back.  He grabbed a couple so the kid had a choice.

Then he went to Izuku’s room.  His Izuku.  Risky idea but he just had to check.  If the other one heard him open the door, he could play it off as searching.  And the bed inside was mercifully, blessedly, empty. 

He’s out.  He wanted to cry.  With any luck he was already far away with some of Naomasa’s team.  No way would the man himself abandon such a delicate situation.  But his boy was safe, and that’s what mattered.  He closed the door, and went back to focus on his other boy.

Izuku stared at his reflection in the mirror.  He did so all while getting dressed.  Much to Toshinori’s horror, the wings snapped where they shouldn’t in order to snake through the hole in the giant sweatshirt.  His gaunt face and drooping eyes made reading his emotions difficult.  It must have been painful, yet he seemed so casual.  Like he did it every day.

“Wh-at now?” he asked suddenly.

“Huh?  Um, I guess we go back to the living room,” Toshinori responded.  “You can relax while I make some more food.  Maybe you could try and get some sleep?”

“C-an’t.”

“Can’t what?”

“Sle-ep.”

“Wh-why not?”

“H-ave a quirk.  I don’t s-sleep.”  His eyes didn’t leave the mirror.

“Y-you can still rest though, can’t you?”  Izuku looked at him slowly.  Toshinori swallowed.  “You could lay down, close your eyes, turn your brain off…  You know, rest?”

“R-est…”  He turned back to his reflection, and stayed completely still for several long moments.  Then he looked back.  “Okay.”

Toshinori offered to help him walk, but Izuku balanced himself with his wings as they moved to the living room.  It almost looked as if he was putting most of his weight on them instead of his legs.  Mostly the bat wings.  Toshinori was certain he saw Butterfly run with just the bat wings and the spikes of the bird ones, his legs dangling uselessly above the ground, in his attack on the shelter.  Maybe he wasn’t using them now because they’d scratch up the hardwood.  Or maybe he was trying to keep up appearances.  They rounded the couch.

“Would you like some TV?” Toshinori offered.

“S-ure.”  He held the tiny cherub wings as he sat down. 

Can he not move them? he wondered as he searched for the hero channel.

There wasn’t a comfortable way to sit with four wings bigger than your body.  Izuku spent all of the time it took Toshinori to make all his instant ramen adjusting and readjusting himself.  He attempted to fold his bat ones over his lap while the spiked bird ones sprawled over the back of the couch.  Extra pillows gave him a little support.  He more gave up instead of finding a good spot.

With a better look at them, the bird wings did not look how Toshinori expected.  Before, he assumed the spikes came from where the proverbial thumb would be, as they were on the bat wings.  But these ended with the spike; there were no ‘finger feathers’ to speak of.

Almost like…

“Your wings aren’t supposed to look like that, are they?” he ventured.  Toshinori put a bowl overflowing with ramen into the boy’s hands.  He also brought over all the snacks and cereal he had.

“No…” Izuku answered.  His mouth drooped even more.  Before Toshinori could ask, he explained.  “I fo-ought…  A v-illain.  He burnt -ff the ti-ips all th- way down t- the b-one.”

The old hero gaped.  He had to physically stop himself from looking over the couch.

“More -seful like th-is at l-east,” he spoke.  “They -elp me w-alk and I c-an fight.  Dead weight before anyway.”

“What about the bat wings?”

Izuku stopped chewing.  “They ca-ame later.  Both quirks rely o-on the same hox g-ene, so they tri-ied to grow out of the s-ame sp-ot.  Th-at’s why th-ey’re fused.”  He swallowed bitterly.  “Couldn’t fl-y even if th-ey weren’t…”  The boy looked like he wanted to say more.  Toshinori waited a little bit for him to speak before doing so himself.

“You said they came after?  What about before?” he questioned.

“Wh-at do y-ou mean?”  Izuku looked at him perplexed.

“Did you ever fly?”

Perplexity gave way to every stage of grief over the next five seconds.  Toshinori shied away, worried he just crossed a line.  But once Izuku hit acceptance, he looked down despondent into his bowl. 

“Once.”

Toshinori’s heart sank.  With that one word, he sounded both more like the Izuku he knew than he had all night, and yet so much further away.  The melancholy there was enough to threaten toxic shock. 

“What happened?” he whispered.

“I tr-ied to get away,” he began.  “Fr-om All for O-ne.”

That confirms it then…  How many nights had Toshinori woke up from a nightmare about his beloved successor in the clutches of that monster?  And now, in another life, that very thing happened.  Why can’t this just be a nightmare?

“One of his -omes was a sk-yscraper.  He ke-ept me there as a-a ‘handbag’ for storing extra-a quirks.  The more quirks s-omeone has, the heavier the n-eural load the brain h-has to carry…  People b-orn quirkless can h-old more before they start losing fu-unction…”  His sigh led into a cough.  Another common factor between the two was being a chatterbox.  “He was a-way, and I j-umped out the wind-ow.”

Toshinori recalled the notebook, where ‘albatross’ was listed beside the wing quirks.  An image formed in his mind.  One of Izuku, his Izuku, dwarfed by two colossal seabird wings, aloft over a city.  But he knew this wasn’t a happy story.  Where had the other wings come from otherwise?

“But you didn’t get away…”

“Th-at building…  I don’t thi-ink it was in Jap-an,” he squeaked.  Toshinori looked down at his knees.  “Nobody on the gr-ound spoke Japan-ese.  B-but even if they c-ould…  Someb-ody asked me to write d-own my a-address or number…”  What remained of his lip wobbled.  “I-I couldn’t re-emember e-either…”

Toshinori put a gently hand on the back of the boy’s shaved head.  After a moment, he leaned into it.

Izuku’s next words were barely a breath.  “I-I went b-ack to him on m-y o-wn.  The b-at wings started gro-owing in the n-ext day.”  Guilt was evident.  In his mind, he deserved it.  He looked ready to cry, but didn’t. 

Toshinori did.  Thirty years of investigating All for One flooded back.  All the torture and experimentation, all the innocents who suffers.  All the potential ways he could have hurt his son.

“Why, why, did he have you in the first place?” he blubbered.

“…  I r-an away fr-om home,” he said evenly, earlier shakiness already gone.  “Couldn’t f-ind work.  N-obody wanted to d-eal with a qu-irkless h-igh school dropout…  Quirkless DNA i-is used in a l-ot of me-medical res-earch, but they can’t b-uy it from a minor…  Not le-egally.” 

“So you found a back alley doctor who would take your blood?”  He pressed his knuckles against his forehead.

“A-fter a while, he sa-aid he had an o-ffer for m-e.  He had a si-ick client who n-eeded regular bl-ood tra-ansfusions, and I-I’m a quirkless univer-ersal donor.”  Izuku scrunched his shoulders, and turned away.  “He said if I-I went to live with -im, they’d t-ake c-re of m-e…”

Toshinori tried to picture the desperate state of mind necessary for brilliant, self-sufficient to the point of self-destruction Izuku to agree to such an obvious human trafficking scheme.  He must have been living on the streets for a while at that point.  Was he already this starved and never recovered?  Why did he still look like that if he could down eight packs worth of instant ramen in one sitting?

“…  I-is All for One d-ead here?” he asked suddenly.

“Huh?  No, but he is locked away.”

“You should k-ill him.”  Toshinori wasn’t sure if he’d ever heard his own Izuku even say the word ‘kill.’

“Why?”

He looked back like he was crazy.  “He’ll g-et ou-t,” Izuku spoke urgently.  “He t-old me all abo-out how th-ings used to be b-before y-ou came around.  He said, ‘There u-used to be a time where no ch-child in Japan was born with-out my permission.’”

Toshinori’s heart skipped a beat.  He recalled all those lackies of All for One that worked out of healthcare he brought down.  People in Izuku’s generation were sometimes called ‘Peace Babies,’ since by the time they were born, most of the troubles that plagued the previous generations had been eliminated.  The hero system was well-established and respected, most of the larger villain organizations were dismantled, and the presence of All Might reinforced both.  They grew up never knowing a world that wasn’t at peace.  Izuku’s comment brought a whole new dimension to the label.

“He’ll do it a-gain.”

That was something Toshinori wished more than anything he could deny.  “Kid,” he started, “I’m not sure we can.  Sure, he’s probably going to get the death penalty anyway, but he’s got so many quirks there might not be an effective way to-”

“Eraserh-ead.”

“W-what?”  As unsettling as the stammering was, it was somehow worse when he spoke clearly.

“Era-aserhead.  The quirks ke-eeping All for One alive ar-ren’t immune to his,” the boy hissed.  His eyes flashed red.  “That’s how I g-ot away for re-eal.”  Without touching either, he traded the ramen bowl for one of cereal.

Toshinori’s first thought was to be proud.  Here was a survivor of unspeakable injustice, yet he still accomplished what All Might himself could not: end a two-hundred-year reign of terror.  But reason reminded him there had to be more to it.

“But, you seem like you have his quirk, don’t you?” he questioned quietly.  Feathers twitched behind him.  “He would have had to give it to you first…”

“I-I was with him a wh-ile…” he said weakly.  Then angrier, “I-I played a-along, and he thought he g-ot to me.”  He adjusted his wings again.  “After Wolfram k-illed the o-ther you, he thought he was t-ough e-nough to take on his b-oss.  They f-ought, and he managed to k-ill the doct-or and wo-ound All for One before -e lost.  All for One couldn’t d-ie because of h-s quirks, but couldn’t heal wi-ithout his doctor.”  And then, something in Izuku’s face shifted.  For only a moment, so fast Toshinori might have imagined it, the boy looked satisfied.  “I be-egged him to loan m-e his quirk so I-I could steal from a hea-ealer…  A-and with all his quirks t-urned off, h-e died.”

That’s a lot to take in…

“Ya kn-ow what’s kinda f-unny?”

“What?”

“Erasure w-as the qu-irk that made m- realize wh-at was going on,” Izuku confessed.  “I-I knew he w-asn’t a good pers-on before, but getting a hero’s quirk wo-oke me up t- how bad it really wa-as…  If Eraserhead d-oesn’t wanna do it, I-I will.”  And right there was the briefest spark of determination Izuku was supposed to have. 

“I’ll, uh, ask him next time I see him how he feels…” Toshinori watched the boy munch on cereal in silence for a minute or so.  His jaw moved in a way he couldn’t describe but nonetheless read as abnormal.  Maybe he was using the bone-control quirk for that too.  How long has he relied on it?  Wait…  “If, if you already had the erasure quirk, why did you need his quirk?”

“So I-I could get rid of a-all these…”  The wings lifted, before immediately falling back into place with a muffled thud.

“Why didn’t you?”

“Muta-ations don’t just go a-way…”  He held up the floppy little cherub wing.  “The other wings are f-used to my sca-apula.  Do-octors couldn’t fi-gure out how to fi-ix them…”

“There were people trying to help you?  After you escaped?”

Izuku stilled.  “N-ot really.  They could have w-orked for All for One…  O-or the villain who bu-urned my wings…”

“What about your mother?” Toshinori asked, to which Izuku flinched.  “Even if you couldn’t find your way home there, I know you spent time at your apartment in this world.”  He didn’t read the situation until words already left his mouth.  “…  Couldn’t you have jumped back?”

The child raised a mangled hand towards the table.  A glass of water moved into it.  “S-omeone else lives th-ere now…”  He sniffed.

“Oh, my boy,” the man whispered without a thought.  He reached out, and his son fell into his embrace without a shred of reluctance.

“I-I ju-ust wann-a go-o h-ome!” he wailed.  Izuku’s head fell into Toshinori’s lap, one wing arcing over their heads.  Claws gripped the fabric of his pants.

“It’s all right, little one,” Toshinori shuddered, tears pouring.  “I’m here.  I’m here.”  His torso curled over the small body, shielding him from anything and everything.  He carefully caressed scarred cheeks as if anything rougher would draw blood.  This is my fault!  It has to be.  Another version of me but still.  Izuku needed me and I abandoned him!  I left him open to the clutches of that monster and now he’s falling apart!  What do I do?

Feathers ruffled subtly.

“A-All Might?” Izuku whimpered.

“Yes, my boy?” he replied softly.

“I-is One for All r-eal?”

“I- wha- uh, um…  Yes.  It is.”  No use hiding it from him.  “What did All for One tell you about it?”

“It’s -is brother’s quirk, and y-ou and your ma-asters stole it.”

Masters.  The previous holders.

“That’s n-ot how it works, is i-it?” he sniffed.

“No.  One for All cannot be stolen.  Or given forcefully for that matter.  Both parties have to consent.”

“Consent…”  The boy looked a mess, but still no tears.

Toshinori blinked away his own.  “All for One wasn’t always so powerful.  He had to start somewhere.  But he had a younger brother, wh-who was weak and sickly and seemingly quirkless, who saw what he was doing was wrong and tried to stop him.  But he couldn’t.  Not at first.  Then All for One, maybe out of love or pity or some effort at control, forced a quirk on him.  It was a tiny stockpiling quirk, so weak even his brother’s frail body could handle it.  But he wasn’t truly quirkless.  He had a useless quirk who’s only affect was to pass itself down to a consenting party.  That useless quirk fused with the stockpiling one, and created something new that grew ever stronger each time it was given to someone new.  All who held it swore to continue the younger brother’s mission of keeping All for One’s evil at bay.  And to help and inspire others wherever they went.”  Izuku was looking up at him now.  Toshinori ran a thumb over his sunken cheek.  “That, my boy, is One for All.”

“…  You w-on over here?”

“Yes, I did,” he assured.

“Did you st-ill p-ass it on?”

“Yes.”

“…  L-emillion?”

“No, not him.”  Toshinori smiled sadly.  I suppose it makes sense he got it.  He’s more than worthy.  But why not you?  What didn’t the other me see in you? 

“…  It’s the o-ther one, isn’t it?” he asked, sounding on the verge of tears.

The old hero sighed, and nodded.  Certainly not a lack of smarts.

“Wh-y-y?” Izuku sniveled.

“He…”  How do I even explain it?  “He remined me of what it meant to be a true hero,” he opened.  The other one watched him with rapt attention.  “I met him by accident when he was in middle school.  He was attacked by a sludge villain and I saved him.  Afterward, he held on to me right as my time limit for hero work was running out, so I would answer his question.”

“C-an s-omeone be a hero without a qu-irk?” the boy in his lap breathed.  Toshinori’s mouth fell open.  “And you said yes?”

“I…  No.  I didn’t.”  The image of Superman talking a teenager away from the edge came to mind.  Meanwhile, Izuku’s eyes sifted wildly.  “But the villain escaped, and attacked another middle schooler.”

“K-acchan,” came the whisper.

“I was out of time, and I couldn’t save him.”  Thought I couldn’t.  “But Iz- the other one, he rushed out to try and save his bully.  A quirkless middle schooler.  Even the pro heroes around didn’t even try.” Toshinori didn’t get to tell this story as often as he liked.  But he got a bad feeling about this one when Izuku’s mouth hung open.

“He s-aved Kacch-an?”

“No.  But he inspired me to push beyond my limits and rescue them both,” he finished.  “Being a hero…  It’s about trying to do what’s right, even if there’s no guarantee you’ll succeed.  That boy reminded me out that.  So afterward, I offered him my quirk.”

Izuku looked a million miles away.  The silence spoke of true horror.  Of dreams so close yet so far.  Of pain that could have been avoided.  Of the deafening wingbeat of a butterfly.

He didn’t run…

“I-I…”  His face twisted the way only someone who’s life was flashing before their eyes could. 

“I am so, so sorry, my boy,” Toshinori attempted to consol.  Like he just said, he still had to try even when that effort was meaningless.

“It’s fine,” he mouthed.  His wings shivered.  “It’s f-ine…” he told himself.  “I-it’s fi-ine…”

“My boy,” he sighed.  “I wish I could fix this…”

“N-ot your fault.  Th- other y-ou’s.  Y-ou’ve been n-ice.” 

The words were like an arrow in the chest.  “I…  Thank you, my boy.”

“H-ow does Lemillion f-it into this?”

Odd change to the subject but he’d take it.  “Sir Nighteye picked him out.  I met the other you before I could meet with him…”  Toshinori cleared his throat.  “He doesn’t need it anyway.  He already had a quirk and was good at using it.  He’s a fine hero without One for All.”

Izuku’s eyebrows narrowed.  “Re-eally?”

“Wha- of course.  Mirio’s kind, outgoing, hardly shabby in a fight…”  The boy’s expression remained suspicious.  “I didn’t pick him out myself, but he was a good choice nonetheless.”

“S’good you d-idn’t,” he replied, settling back into the man’s lap.  “Wasn’t w-orthy.”

“Wh-what do you mean?  How can you say that?” Toshinori asked quickly.  “Did you even know him?”

“Symbol of P-eace should be str-ong.”  Izuku’s body stilled.  “He went down too fast.”

There was no good place for the explanation to go, but Toshinori still denied.  “You saw him fight?”  No response.  He bit the inside of his mouth before speaking.  “…  You fought h-”

“I defended myself!” he spat.  Both their bodies tensed.  The air grew heavy and the room silent.  Izuku’s scratchy voice carried power even without the quirk he used before.  And Toshinori was at his mercy.  “I-I wasn’t d-oing anything wr-ong.  The v-illain.  The one who b-urnt my w-ings.  I-I was trying to get a-way and Lemillion wouldn’t l-et m-e!  He.  Att-acked.  Me!” 

Toshinori didn’t believe him.  And with that, everything came back.  This was Butterfly.  A villain.  A murderer.  After my boy.

“Did, did the men in the diner attack you too?” he accused.

Izuku sat up.  “I o-offered a fair tr-ade.  He was using a d-imension-bri-idging quirk to hang out w-ith a friend who m-oved a-way.  I offered -im to just st-ay there with -ny new quirk he w-nted, and he still said n-o,” he defended.  “I need it more!”

“For what?  What are you trying to accomplish here?”

“I to-old you.  I w-anna go -ome!” he pleaded.

“Izuku, you don’t have to kill people to do that!  Why didn’t you come clean with what happened first thing?  We, I would have helped you!”

“No you wouldn’t -ave!  Neither w-ould Mo-om or anyone e-else!” he yelled the broken words.  “Not while so-omeone else still lived -ere!”  Izuku stood up on his wings, knocking food from the table.

Toshinori stood his ground.  “So that’s it then?  Kill Izuku so you can replace him?”

“I AM IZUKU!”

Dread and pain forced Toshinori to the floor.  He coughed blood as objects began to float around him.  The child suspended himself by his own wings like a puppet from display pegs.  His eyes blazed red.

“A-and how” -cough- “do you e-expect to get away with it after all this?” he challenged.

“I can f-ix it!  All of i-it!”  His throat and mouth glowed as he lowered his feet onto the table.  “I just ne-ed the r-ight quirk!”  Butterfly raised all four wings. 

I’m sorry, my son.  Toshinori closed his eyes.  I love y-

Chapter Text

Izuku heard everything.  In half a second, he burst from his hiding place behind the door of his room, and launched at Butterfly.  Too fast for the other to counter.  He slammed into the wings with such force he yanked Butterfly off balance.  His thin shoulder cracked.  Izuku rolled and kicked the other hard into the wall.

“Izuku!” All Might shouted.  “What are you doing!?” 

“Run, All Might!”

Thunder crashed.

Butterfly lunged.  Izuku jumped away from a spike-wing uppercut.  It sent the glass coffee table flying across the room to shatter against the wall.  He dodged the second wing by hopping up on the kitchen counter, then leaping at Butterfly’s head.  A direct frontal attack was a bad idea, and he knew it.  There was no time to rationalize his actions.  A small telekinetic pull yanked his arm out of position in the air.  Butterfly close-lined him in the stomach with a massive wing, then spun and threw him hard into the window.  The serrated edges of the spike grazed Izuku’s side.

That quirk, he thought while trying to catch his breath.  The pull.  That felt like Mom’s quirk!

“Izu-”

“I’m Izuku!” Butterfly snapped at All Might.

The front door slammed open.  “This is the police and heroes!  Surrender with your hands up!” Detective Tsukauchi yelled.  A heavily-armed swat team stormed in behind him, long with a small group of heroes.  Pathfinder and Cheat-A among them.

Butterfly screeched.  Dread put everyone on the ground in an instant.  But with so many people, it wasn’t enough to keep them down.  Izuku crawled to the side to look for an opening.  A few cops shot their tasers while the heroes forced themselves up.  Butterfly redirected the wires into the floor, then wound up for a sweeping strike.  Cheat-A caught the wing in a spot portal she held up on a poster board.  It shot up out of the floor from another spot right beneath Butterfly, slicing his own face.  Pathfinder used the opening to strike the villain’s ribs with what looked like a modified police baton.  A third hero Izuku didn’t know slashed Butterfly’s other side with amorphous shadow, but he blocked her with a bat wing.

Izuku tried to jump in.  Butterfly spun his body and wings around to clear space.  Izuku backed off.  Loose object started to float around him.  In the corner of his eye, Izuku saw All Might beckoning him to where he hid behind the couch.  But he couldn’t turn away. 

Butterfly backhanded Pathfinder with a bat wing then pulled him back by the face right into his hand.  He screamed.

Cheat-A tried to throw more spots at his feet, but he canceled her quirk with Aizawa’s power.  Pathfinder stopped screaming, and he threw him at her.  The cops couldn’t even get close.  Utensils, appliances, and pieces of glass from the broken coffee table orbited around Butterfly, striking everyone who didn’t get out of the way fast enough.  Half the squad was already unmoving on the ground.  Izuku couldn’t pick out Tsukauchi in the commotion.  The shadow hero put up a dark barrier, and tried to wrap it around the villain.  Butterfly pulled his wings close, and inhaled.

“Look out!” Izuku yelled too late. 

Fire cut through the shadow wall like mist.  A memory nearly as old as Izuku himself surfaced.  The first quirk he ever analyzed.  If it really was Dad’s quirk, then the police’s protective gear didn’t stand a chance against the temperature.  Butterfly’s back was turned to him.  Wide open.

Or so he thought.  Izuku took two steps before a spike snapped back to intercept him.  Butterfly’s head turned.  The skin of his lip and nose dangled free from where he cut himself.  Izuku could see his extra teeth.  Close enough to see, too close to get away.  One moment, he was staring down a boney claw coming right for his face.  The next, All Might was there.

“Gah!”

“All Might!”  Izuku saw the tip of the spike poking out his back.  Red bloomed in the fabric around it.

Butterfly froze.  His intense, angry expression dropped in an instant.  The wall burned behind him as he looked in horror at his own work.

“A-ll M-i-ight?”

He stood there, holding himself up by the wing through his torso, and coughed blood.

“No!”  Izuku dashed around from behind his mentor and kicked the middle of Butterfly’s chest with all the force he could summon. 

The monster staggered back, taking his wing with him.  All Might collapsed.  Izuku caught him and eased him down to the floor.  Then Butterfly was on him again.  Long claws dug into his shoulders.  He was dragged off his feet away from All Might and towards the window.  All Might coughed after them.  The glass bent outwards untouched until it shattered.  The sound of heavy rain exploded into the apartment. 

“No you don’t!”  Izuku grabbed one of Butterfly’s tiny vestigial wings, then his neck.  He tried to stop them by grabbing the walls around the opening.  But Izuku was too heavy and the momentum of the strike was too great.  So they both fell.  Eleven stories down.

Through the rain they tumbled.  Butterfly desperately tried to grab onto the building with his wings.  Gears turned all the while.  Butterfly may look and move like and animal, but he didn’t yet think like one.  Izuku held on.  He felt the personal gravity quirk struggle to activate, throwing off his already struggling sense of up and down. 

If I’m going down, you’re coming with me!

Izuku hooked his arm around Butterfly’s neck.  The light of One for All cast the rain green around him.  And he slammed his fist into Butterfly’s jaw.  They bounced against the side of the building.  Izuku hit him again.  His partially-healed nose bled once more.  Butterfly slashed with his feet while his hands dug into Izuku’s arm.  He let the natural swing of their mid-air spin throw his body out of the way while keeping his grip.  Izuku scraped against his limit of One for All.  His fingers throbbed, but he relished it.  That monster had been tormenting him for a month, and he finally got some hits in.

It didn’t last of course.  Butterfly got a hold on the wall with his gravity quirk.  He slid against the window on all fours, and pulled Izuku off with the bat fingers. 

Izuku kept falling.  Without thinking, he angled himself tin the air.  At the last possible moment, he kicked off the wall, shattering the closest windows, and flew horizontally.  He hit the ground rolling, then rode the momentum to get back on his feet.  Just as Butterfly had done.

The villain himself crawled down the wall.  An unnatural black shape skimming the edge of the streetlights below.  The rain poured so loud they’d have to shout for any chance of hearing one another.  Lucky they didn’t have much to say.

One for All roared.  Water flowed over a sharp pain in his side.  A feather jammed just under his armpit.  Izuku gritted his teeth to block it out, and assumed his fighting stance.

Then it hit.  The cold piercing pain.  The lack of breath.  The crippling fear.  All far too familiar, yet somehow worse.  He dropped like a stone to the hard, wet ground.  His whole body seized out of his control.  Rain dumbed into his open mouth.

I’m such an idiot, he told himself.  He’s been untouchable for so long.  Why did I think this time would be any different?

Butterfly lept off the building.  He flapped his four monstrous wings once a story off the ground, and hovered there with them fully outstretched.  His emaciated body hung from them like a puppet.  The rain froze around him.  His face wounds formed back into place, a new scar joining others.  The vestigial wings shivered at his sides.  He glared at Izuku writhing beneath him with tight ferocity.  There was no light in his eyes.  Literally.  No erasure.  No sign of a reflective spark from the streetlights all around them. 

That’s me… he finally admitted.  The dread squeezed harder.  He’s after me.  This is all my fault.  All Might!  I’m sorry!

Butterfly was completely still in the air.

I’m sorry, Mom.  Where’s Mom?  He’s gonna go after Mom next!

There was a low gurgle.  It was getting harder to breathe. 

“I’ll,” -he coughed- “I’ll never give you One for All!”

“I don’t need it.”

Dread became agony.  Izuku’s back arced as he screamed in silence.  Rain water built up in his throat, but he couldn’t spit or swallow.  Thoughts came in bursts.

-hate you-

Rain faded to white noise.

-not fair-

His bones were trying to dig their way out of his skin.

-ld’ve jumped-

His vision flashed.  Colors danced at the edges.  Izuku looked past Butterfly, and saw eight figures in the darkness.  He knew this.  Knew them.  The previous holders.  Their images were blurred and frayed, but not as much as before at the Sports Festival.  He recognized Nana this time, from the picture All Might showed him.  And All Might.  He was there.  Clearer than before.  He stepped ahead of the others into the light.

“Get up.”

Izuku did.  He hacked all the water out of his mouth, and rolled onto his side.  Butterfly tried to strangle him with dread.  Izuku pushed past it.  Cold needles stabbed behind his eyes and teeth.  Hot iron dung into his back.  But he forced his feet under himself, and pushed off the ground.  Slow and shaking, he stood.  He was so tired.  Of Butterfly, himself, all this.  It needed to end.  One for All blazed.  He stared the villain down with rage and hatred one only has for themselves.  The ground shook with his stomp.  And Izuku unleashed a screech to rival Butterfly’s.

“COME ON!”

Butterfly flinched.  Time slowed.  The street beneath Izuku cracked as he launched at the stunned villain with full strength.  The raw power boiled the rain he passed.  Butterfly tried to dodge with a pathetic yelp. 

Izuku hit the ground hard.  He forgot how much breaking his legs with One for All hurt.  Though compared to the dread it was bearable.  The rain felt louder.  There was an ambulance in the distance.  Izuku felt faint.  Turning behind him, Butterfly was gone.  But he knew that already.  It was the only way he could have moved that fast.  But not fast enough.  For gripped tight in Izuku’s fist, still twitching slightly, was a small severed wing.  The last thing Izuku did before he passed out was squeeze it until the bone popped.

“Where’s All Might?” he asked Detective Tsukauchi when he came to in the ambulance.

“Where’s All Might?” he asked the doctors as they prepared to put him back under for surgery.

“Where’s All Might?” he asked the nurse who served him dinner after.

No one had an answer for him.  Not knowing anything was worse than knowing the worst.  And worse than that was being alone with that uncertainty.  The nurses were all strangers with jobs to do.  The detective presumably had people to talk to about the attack.  He stayed awake a long time for someone to stay with him, but no one came.  The rational part of his brain said people he knew were avoiding him so it would be a little harder for Butterfly to find him again.  But that did nothing to soothe the terrified, still-a-child part that wanted nothing more than to crawl into his parents’ bed and not be alone.

The small private room felt too big.  The windowless walls seemed to grow and loom more and more.  Hiding under the blanket didn’t help much.  It was hot and scratchy and smelled like a hospital.  Everything was too quiet too.

That was me out there…  He swallowed dryly.  That’s what would have happened if I didn’t get One for All.  He looked at the bandage on his hand where dozens of feathers splintered his skin, and thought of the spindly digits so mangled they needed the help of a quirk to move.  He touched the bruise on his back, and thought of the wings that yanked on every muscle the human torso had.  He felt the slight twinge of hunger in his stomach, and thought about what it must be like to be perpetually starving.  But I’m not like that.  He’s a villain.  Tragic backstory or not, he wants to kill people!  Izuku bit his lip until it bled.  I want to kill him…  His hand still recalled a grimy touch.  I ripped his wing off… 

Izuku couldn’t take it anymore.  He had to find All Might.  Summoning his strength, he swung his aching legs off the side of the bed, and carefully lowered himself onto the floor.  They already used healing quirks on him, so it wasn’t as bad as it could have been.  Though it was still pretty bad.  He had to hug the wall to get to the door, pausing to catch his breath every few steps.

I pushed through Butterfly’s dread, he told himself.  I can push through this!

The halls were quiet.  The hospital was identical to those of all the others Izuku had been in, but the familiarity brought no comfort, only further desperation to find the right door.  He didn’t even know what section he would be in.  If he was even here at all.  But All Might had to be here.  Izuku knew it.

Walking got a little easier as he enters a more crowded wing.  But it was still quiet.  Clusters of people who must have been the families of patients clustered somberly around benches and seating areas.  Some were in police uniforms.

How many people did Butterfly kill tonight?  Izuku tried and failed to steel his heart.  How many were killed right in front of me while I did nothing?

A clock said it was four in the morning.  A map directed him towards the heroes’ ward.

His knees and feet were throbbing by the time he reached it.  Izuku was almost ready to cry he was so tired.  He maneuvered around the receptionist’s attention by hobbling close behind a passing group of people.  An unaccompanied teenager is scrubs was suspicious.  He couldn’t deal with going back alone.

Izuku hadn’t been in a heroes’ ward at a hospital before.  The doors were much bigger, and didn’t have any windows, numbers, or nameplates.  Probably for anonymity. 

Pathfinder and Cheat-A are probably here…

Security guards leaned against the walls near what must have been occupied rooms.  Izuku had no choice but to go past them.  So he took a deep breath, and walked forward with his head down.  He managed to get about halfway down the hall before somebody stopped him.

“Hey, young man,” a guard greeted.  “You in the right place?”

Izuku’s first impulse was to run and fight.  But I can’t.  I’m in no state to, and they’ll just lock me up.

“You’re not in trouble, don’t be shy.”

“I…”  All I have is the truth.  “I-I’m looking for my dad…”

“Your dad?  You sure he’s in the hero ward?” he questioned suspiciously.

“M-maybe…”  Stop stuttering you idiot!  You’re not like him!  “A, a villain attacked us, and we were separated.”  Izuku took a shaky breath.  “I’m scared.”

The guard nodded, and mumbled something into his earpiece.  After a concerned pause, “What’s your pa’s name?”

“A-  Yagi.  Yagi Toshinori.”  The whole name felt strange on his tongue. 

“And your name?”

“…  I-Izuku.”

“You here that?” he asked the person on the line.  “Yeah, his kid’s here…”  Another pause for the response.  Izuku hugged his chest.  The guard looked back at him with pursed lips.  “Follow me.”

They rounded a corner to some elevators.  Izuku swallowed again.  He eyed the last button on the panel.  The basement.  M for morgue.  He backed into the corner and covered his face.  The box started moving.

“He’s apparently been asking for you all night.”  Izuku’s head snapped towards the man.  “Just moved him out of the ICU.  Don’t know why they put you up so far away.  Usually family still gets to stay in the hero ward.”

Izuku choked out a sob.  The guard wordlessly patted his shoulder. 

The floor they got off on seemed even more barren.  There wasn’t anyone in sight, but noticeably more security cameras.  He recognized the rigged wall panels.  They had traps designed to subdue intruders.  Some of the training grounds had them. The halls were much more of a maze too.  This was the high-security floor.

But Izuku didn’t feel any safer.  Not until he heard something.  A cough.  Not unusual for a hospital, but Izuku knew that one.  He shuffled ahead of the guard on throbbing legs, tears already running.  Tsukauchi was around the corner.

“Midoriya?  What are you doing here?”  The detective had a bandage over his head and one arm in a sling.

“You know him?  He’s lookin’ for his pa.”

Tsukauchi smiled a little.  “Right in here…”

Izuku was too overwhelmed to properly thank the guard, but he seemed to get the message through his mumbles.

The door slid open, and All Might was there.  He was hooked up to a bunch of machines, but he was awake and alive.  He looked up at Izuku with an expression that could only be described as haunted.  Tsukauchi pushed him inside a little and shut the door.  They were alone.  In those hour-long few seconds, they communed with nothing but eyes over the horror they witnessed that night.

“Di-did I…”  A tear tracked down All Might’s gaunt face onto the breathing tubes in his nose.  “Did I ever appolog-ize, for saying you couldn’t be a hero?”

Izuku broke down, and ran into his dad’s waiting arms.  He tried to be gentle, but All Might made no such formalities.  He crushed Izuku close the second they made contact, injuries be damned.  Their faces were squeezed so close their tears mixed as they fell.  All Might then clutched some of Izuku’s hair in his fist and pushed his head close into where he kissed his forehead.  Practically panting, he then hauled his boy up into the bed with him, and forcefully tucked him under his chin with shuddering hands.  Izuku didn’t fight it.  He welcomed the anguish of relief as he buried his face in his hero’s chest and clung to his shirt.  That relief was a priceless, fleeting resource it was, and had no plans to squander it.

“Wh-what happened?” Izuku cried softly.

“Iz-  He got me where my stomach would be,” All Might answered, then chuckled.  “It’s a good thing I don’t have one!”

It wasn’t funny, not at all, but nonetheless Izuku couldn’t help but laugh.  It was a small, wheezy laugh muddled by tears. 

“Finally made you laugh…”  All Might kissed the top of his head. 

Izuku sobered.  “This…  All this…  It’s my fault.”

“Oh, none of that…” he sighed.

“But-”

“Hush…  Hush.”  All Might rocked him slightly.  A low grumble came from his chest as he hummed.  “I love you, my son…”  He gently pushed Izuku’s head back so he looked at him.  “Nothing, nothing, will ever change that.”

“I-I love you too,” he creaked.  He wasn’t used to saying it, and doubted he would be for a long time.  But it did feel good to say.

All Might pulled the blanket, which was much nicer than the one in Izuku’s room, over both their heads and laid them down.  His long arms squished him close.  Izuku tucked himself back under the man’s neck, and sighed.  All Might’s heartbeat slowly lulled down from the excitement of reunion into a steady, relaxed rhythm.  Izuku’s did the same.  They both listened close.  For now, everything was alright.  It was the safest either had felt in a long time. 

Chapter Text

Something squeezed Izuku’s ribs.  It brushed the spot under his arm where a feather had stuck him.  Like back in the shelter.  Like Butterfly.  He twitched awake to pale turquoise scrubs, and suppressed a sigh.

Another hospital…  Another heartbeat beside his head, and he remembered.  At least All Might is here…  Izuku nuzzled closer into his mentor’s chest.  He was rewarded by being held tighter.

“Stop being irrational, Yagi,” Aizawa groaned.  To most, he sounded like any teacher at the end of their rope trying to get a problem student to behave.  But Izuku recalled a similar tone he used to push him ahead in the hideout raid.  An urgency of purpose.  “You know he isn’t safe here.”

“He’s not safe anywhere,” All Might retorted just above Izuku’s head.  “Please.  Just let him rest a little longer.”

“Every moment he is stationary is a moment he is at risk of another attack.”  Izuku practically heard his teacher’s brow crease.  “You know that.”

All Might inhaled sharply, and wrapped the rest of his shaking body around Izuku.  Into his hair, he begged.  “Please don’t take him from me…”  Never had the Symbol of Peace sounded so hollow.

And Izuku wanted nothing more than to stay put.  To comfort and be comforted.  Pretend there wasn’t a nightmare raging outside.  One he was responsible for.  His side stung again.  But there were things more pressing than comfort.

“Toshinori,” he mumbled.  The name took the air right out of the man himself.  Izuku pushed free of his arms and looked him in the eyes, equally tearful.  “I have to go.”

All Might’s lips curled in tight.  “I-I-”  He slammed his eyes shut with a gasp and yanked Izuku back closer and tighter.  All Might’s body creaked and heaved as he sobbed.  He dug his fingers into Izuku’s hair, pulling out strands he gripped it so hard.  His breathing was indistinguishable from choking.  The blanket covered them both.

“All Might…”

“You can’t go!  You can’t go out there!” All Might wept. 

“Let go.”  Izuku struggled against his mentor’s hold.  Skinny or not, muscle still lingered in those old arms.

“No!”  His booming voice cracked.  “Izu-  Butterf-  He’ll kill you!”

“And if I don’t go-“

“He’ll kill you then use a quirk to make me forget you!”

Izuku gritted his teeth and grabbed the arms around him.  “And if I don’t-”  He slinked out from his grasp, pulling the arms over his head.  All Might didn’t give up.  He rolled over to try and use his bodyweight to hold Izuku down.  But he didn’t weigh much.  With his wrists gripped tight and a spark of green, Izuku forced himself and All Might upright.  His eyes bored into the old hero as intense as a real fight.  And he shouted.  “If I don’t go out there, Butterfly will hurt more people!”

All Might looked afraid.  Frail.  It didn’t feel right.  That wasn’t how the hero was supposed to look.  Through the years of knowing about All Might’s injury and seeing his true form almost every day, learning of his fears and struggles, Izuku never shook his perception of the man as the greatest hero ever.  But in that moment, he saw his pale, thin face framed by oxygen tubes and tears, between skinny arms clutched in white knuckles, and understood.

‘I can’t protect you anymore.’

“It’s time for me to protect you…” Izuku whispered so quiet for a moment he worried All might didn’t hear him.

He did.  All Might inhaled sharply, then let out coughing sobs as he bowed his head.  The painful sound knocked the forceful wind out of Izuku.  He bowed too, leaning his forehead into his father’s.  His grip loosened, and All Might used his new freedom to take his son’s hands.

Aizawa cleared his throat.  “Midoriya.”

“I know,” he sniffled.  Slowly, he shuffled off the bed.  All Might supported him by holding his hands up.  And he held on as long as he could.  Izuku paused as he backed up, eyes fixed on their hands.  His were smaller than All Might’s, but both were calloused and crooked.  He tried to memorize how they felt in that moment.  Warm and rough and safe.  All Might ran his thumb over Izuku’s scars twice again, then squeezed them tight.  And he let go.

Izuku involuntarily reached back for them.  Chilly hospital air pricked the now exposed skin.  He snapped back up to All Might’s face.  His kind eyes put back some of the warmth.  With a watery smile, he bobbed his head in a gesture that said ‘go.’

Before he could lose his nerve, Izuku stood up straight, nodded, and fled out the door.  Aizawa followed.

“Nurses told me All Might was staying with his son,” he commented in the elevator.

Izuku wiped his eye.  “Please don’t.”  I don’t know if I can talk right now.  The cold metal floor stung his bare feet.  It’s better this way, he told himself.  Butterfly is after me.  If I stayed, All Might could end up in the crossfire again.  His gaze again drifted to the button for the morgue.  But what if he comes here looking for me?  “C-can’t he come?” he spoke up suddenly.

“Afraid not,” Aizawa replied with vague sympathy.  “He’s hurt worse than he probably let on.  Doctors need to keep an eye on him, and we need to keep moving.”

“…  Are they going to drag me around the city all day again?” Izuku asked dejectedly, pushing All Might’s condition from his mind.

“That depends if we can come up with a new plan before then.”  That wasn’t reassuring.

Detective Tsukauchi met them on the ground floor with a change of clothes for Izuku.  The adults ushered him into the bathroom to change, with Aizawa guarding the door.  In the bag were all new clothes, except for his red shoes.  He left them in All Might’s apartment.  Had he taken the time to put them on, he might have been able to hit Butterfly harder.

Me.  Hit me harder.  The thought hit him like a freight train.  A train that detailed and crashed into a giant vat of quicksand as the realization sunk in.  Butterfly is me.  I am Butterfly.  We’re the same.  No.  No, we’re not the same.  The same person maybe, but not the same.  I’m a hero and he kills people.  We-

“Midoriya!” Aizawa called.  “Hurry up.”

“C-coming!”  He hadn’t even started changing.  The clothes still smelled like a dusty mall.  Not washed yet.  But the material felt different than what he was used to.  Thinner.  Softer.  More expensive, probably.  He tugged at the tight sleeves.  Did Tsukauchi buy them?  Did the police have a budget for witness protection, or was it out of pocket?  He shouldn’t have to do that.  All of this is my fault…  In more ways th- Stop!  Finally dressed, he met Aizawa alone.  “Where’s the detective?”

“He’s got more people to question.  We’ll meet up with him later,” he explained dryly.  Izuku walked close to his teacher. 

At the edge of the hero wing was a small seating area.  Racing Stripes was there.  Next to him sat who must have been Hanten, though his face was hidden in a sweatshirt pulled up over his knees.  His father gently wrapped an arm around his shoulder.  Stripes caught sight of Izuku as they passed.  His eyes were bloodshot from tears.  He waved weakly.

Cheat-A…  Izuku raised his hand in acknowledgement before Stripes went back to comforting his son.  Horror chilled his heart.  What if that was my-  She and Pathfinder fought-  All of this is my fault.  All of this is my fault!

“How many people died last night?” he demanded quietly further into the building.

Aizawa hesitated.  The way Mom did when he was little and asked if everyone hated him because he was quirkless.  A pause to think of a lie.  But he didn’t.

“Four.”

They kept walking.

Butterfly killed them.  I killed them.  He clutched the too-soft fabric of the shirt.  Butterfly is after me.  They fought to protect me.  But I killed them either way.  Because Butterfly…  Is…  Me… 

Nothing changed.  No dizzy spell.  No collapsing cosmos.  Izuku was alone in his mind while reality consumed him. 

But we’re nothing alike!  He’s more like a nomu and I’m…  I’m a hero student because All Might picked me.  The other him would have picked me too but, but he didn’t run.  To try and save Kacchan.  I didn’t even do anything.  I just inspired All Might to push past his limit.  No success or failure, only action.  The other one, other me, Butterfly, he didn’t act…  But what if he did?  What if he did run out, but he hesitated.  I did too, but what if he took longer?  Kacchan lost those precious few seconds of oxygen…  How long was the difference?  Seconds?  Milliseconds?  A fraction of a fraction of an instant to decide the course of my life.  My friends, my family…  My body and mind themselves.  All because I did the right thing at the right time in the right place.  The other me was tortured and had his life ruined for being just a little off.  Any difference, and that would have been me.  Out there always starving and fighting. 

Pale skin stretched to the breaking point around a thinner body than All Might.

Too many quirks tearing me apart. 

Broken antlers.  Too many teeth.  Wings that can’t fly.

No one to help me and no place to go home to. 

‘Someone else lives there now.’

Hunting myself…  I am Izuku.  That could have been me out there.  That could have been me.  But…

“Midoriya?”

He looked up though clouded vision.  They were in the parking garage now.  When did that happen?  Aizawa called him again, but he couldn’t move.  His footsteps echoed through the empty complex as he walked back.  He knelt in front of him.

“Kid?”

“I-it’s m-me,” Izuku choked.  “We’re the same…”

“…  I know.”

Izuku switched between cars instead of trains, but the last one was a big as a train car.  A massive, armored black truck, windowless save the driver’s cabin.  A garden of antennae crowned the top.  Jagged metal plates covered the sides of wheels almost as tall as Izuku.  He and Aizawa had to climb inside with a ladder.  A little more dust and grime and it would have fit in a Mad Max movie.  They were going to be in this one for a while.

The interior, disappointingly, looked like a conference room.  Granted a fancy one with big screens and boards on the walls, but it was still just a bunch of chairs around a big table.  Said table was covered in documents, photos, and maps.  An all too familiar charred notebook caught his eyes.

“Midoriya,” Tsukauchi greeted evenly, pulling him from his thoughts.  Beside him, the chief of police eyed the newcomers carefully. 

“I hope you’re hungry!  Please have as much as you want!” Nezu cheered.  He pushed a stack of paper places towards them and gestured at a plate of sliced fruit and cheese in the middle of the circle.

The last person there, to Izuku’s infinite relief, was Pathfinder.  He seemed unhurt with the exception of a few small scrapes.  But when he turned to look at Izuku, his bright pink eyes seemed duller than he remembered.  He nodded in acknowledgement. 

“Cheat-A has a concussion, but she should pull through.” 

Izuku nodded back, and took a seat.  He let the brief relief wash over him.

Aizawa followed closely.  “Everyone here?”

“Looks like it.”

“Let’s move out,” the chief spoke into his communicator.  The room jostled slightly.  The vehicle was moving and they could barely feel it.

Looking around at the group, Izuku wondered aloud, “Who’s ‘everyone?’”

“Everyone who knows Butterfly is an alternate you,” Tsukauchi responded gravely.

A shiver went up Izuku’s spine.

“Besides All Might of course,” Nezu added.  “We were originally going to have him join us through video chat, but we don’t want to risk anyone listening in.”

“Do you think Butterfly will go after All Might again!?” he shouted.

“Would you?” the chief asked.

Izuku’s heart skipped a beat, and he sank into his chair.  “How did you all find out?”

“All Might told me, and I told Aizawa,” Tsukauchi began.  “Won’t let me go until I told him what happened at the apartment last night.”

Aizawa huffed and leaned back.

“I figured it out myself!” Nezu declared.  “I’ve had suspicions for a while and this morning after the pictures came out, I knew for sure!”

“What pictures?”

Tsukauchi hit a button to activate the screen behind them.  Butterfly appeared.  Suspended in midair with his wings all outstretched.  The streetlamps below him cast a near demonic light.  At that angle he somehow looked even thinner. 

This was way different than seeing the composite sketches.  This was real.  Somehow, it felt even more real than facing off with him in person, at least to Izuku.  Every encounter had such a dreamlike quality to them that in the aftermath hung on in the uncanny valley between dream and experience.  Actual concrete images of Butterfly left Izuku with a feeling he couldn’t describe.

“Someone living in a nearby building captured these images through his own eyes via a camera quirk, which was unaffected by Butterfly’s surveillance interference quirk,” the detective explains.  “Sold them to the press.”

Everyone will see.  “Th-them?”

They flipped through the slideshow.  The photographer climbed the fire escape to the roof for a better look.  Izuku himself appeared over a ridge.

“That’s the one that convinced me,” Nezu commented.

Izuku understood right away.  It was the moment right before he stood up straight through the pain to challenge Butterfly.  He was hunched over, one hand still on the ground and clearly struggling.  But his eyes stayed locked on his opponent, with a tight, wild expression of pure hatred.  Butterfly looked back with the same face.  The room got colder.  This feeling he knew: dread. 

It’s real.  It’s me.

Aizawa grounded him with a firm hand on his shoulder.

“I contacted Tsukauchi, and we both told the chief.”  Nezu’s tone was suddenly cold and clipped.  “We just said that the villain was from another dimension, therefor we needed additional support to circumvent it.”  He took a sip of his tea.

“And I put two and two together,” he grumbled.  Izuku faltered under his accusatory gaze.  “No matter who it is, we can’t have word getting around that he’s from another dimension.  Folks already have enough to worry about without villains popping in and out from other worlds.  No villain groups seem interested in the prospect either and I’d like to keep it that way.”

Pathfinder cleared his throat, and everyone looked at him.  “Your paths were the same last night.” 

Same.  Izuku turned the word over in his mind.  It was quickly becoming his least favorite.

“A connection crossed my mind as early as Jakku, but there were too many conflicting factors,” he explained.  “It wasn’t until you were both in the same room that I could no longer deny it.”

“Could you elaborate on those conflicting factors, please?” Nezu requested.

Pathfinder got up.  He drew a stick figure on a whiteboard, then smeared it with his hand. 

“Paths appeared to me in a similar fashion to this smear.  Lines of colors and patterns that trail behind a person wherever they go.  Each person’s is distinct.”  He drew a second figure.  “Butterfly’s path was remarkably similar to Midoriya’s, but,” he added wings and feathers to the figure, then smeared it again.  The outline was way less clear than the first.  “The amorphous silhouette and erratic movement, not to mention the fact that Butterfly can teleport, obscured his identity to even me.”  Pathfinder sat back down.

It’s such a cool quirk, Izuku thought.  But all that was past tense…

“Butterfly has your quirk now, doesn’t he?” Aizawa asked bluntly.

“Yes.”

Izuku felt sick.

“That is why we are here, Midoriya,” Pathfinder continued.  “With my quirk, there will be nowhere for you to hide.  You may run yourself ragged across the world to flee, but he will find you eventually.”  His vice was so gentle yet so grave.  Izuku struggled to connect what he was hearing now to the harsh barks of months ago. 

“Unless he’s stopped,” the chief cut in.  “Speaking of stolen quirks…”  He slid Butterfly’s notebook across the table to Izuku.

Hero Notes for the Future Vol. 13.  Burned and water damaged just like he remembered.  There was no visual difference, at least on the covers, but it felt different in Izuku’s hands.  Wrong.

“Where did-”

“Butterfly had it on him last night.  Took it and some other stuff off to take a bath.”  Tsukauchi smiled weakly.  “All Might hid them before Butterfly attacked.”

Izuku gripped the notebook as tight as he dared.  “What’s in it?”

“Hopefully, enough info to develop a counter strategy.”  Nezu gestured for him to open it.  “We all had a look but it’s, well…”

Izuku turned to a random page, and his stomach dropped.

“A lot.”

The page was black with scribbles.  As were most of the others.  This was not an exaggeration or metaphor; he couldn’t see the whites of the page except at some of the edges.  Looking closer revealed characters written and written over so many times sentences were no more than blobs upon blobs.  Some words came out of the cluster: ‘ran,’ ‘prisoner,’ ‘storage,’ ‘murder.’ 

“We were able to decipher some of it, but we need as much as we can get,” the principal explained.

“Wh-why me though?” Izuku blurted out.  “I-I’m not any kind of code breaker!”

“I mean technically,” the chief interjected, “they are your notes.”

Izuku bristled.  “No.  No, they aren-”

“Can you read it?” Aizawa asked/ordered.

“K-kinda...”  Izuku turned to more pages.  ‘Escape.’  ‘Lost.’  ‘Mom.’  He remembered last night.  “I, I think this section is him recounted how he ended up like he did.  O-or at least trying too…”  But why keep a journal like this?  I usually don’t write down things in my own life, unless…  He turned to the opening page.  It was cleaner than the others, but still crowded.  Instead of pure black, the notes were layered in different colored inks.  In his own notebook, Izuku put his name on the first page.  And there it was, but the part that said ‘if found, please return to,’ was written over to say: ‘my name is.’  The rest followed.  Oh.  I get it.

My name is Midoriya Izuku.

Born 2XXX, quirkless

My Mom is Midoriya Inko, quirk: pull

All for One and the League of Villains kidnapped, imprisoned, and tortured me

They stole quirks and gave them to me

They killed my Mom

The rest of the word cluster was addresses. 

“He was trying to remember everything that happened,” Izuku mumbled.

Tsukauchi pursed his lips and nodded.  “That makes sense.  The nomu go braindead under the mental strain of so many quirks.  It’s possible someone b-”  He caught himself and coughed.

Nezu smiled knowingly.  “It’s possible someone with certain characteristics could handle more foreign quirks than others, but true immunity to the damage is likely impossible.”  His smile dropped.  “Memory loss is a common symptom of mental deterioration.”

Izuku swallowed.  He’s not right in the head.  That makes us different, right? he reasoned.  Without thinking, he turned to Aizawa for reassurance.

“What else is in there?” he questioned instead. 

Izuku flipped to the page he reserved in every notebook for All Might.  There was some consolatory relief that it was comparatively untouched.  Wait.  It’s different.  No, no it’s the same, but it should be different.  On one side was All Might’s hero form, and the other his true form.  That shouldn’t be there.  I didn’t make this page until after he started training me.  Butterfly was never trained.  The pose on the latter was nearly identical to the on in Izuku’s book, plus some of the same notes.  The difference was that the lines were shakier, and the notes ended in question marks.  He took these notes here. 

“He was watching us.”  Further in, he found phrases in the clutter that described his classmates.  It called Iida book smart but naïve.  Todoroki was powerful but emotionally unstable.  Uraraka’s quirk shouldn’t be underestimated.  There was speculation on weaknesses too.  “Getting ready for a fight.”

“Hmm.  Now that was something I never quite understood,” Nezu began.  “Butterfly was content to torment you from the shadows before he was discovered, after which he attacked you outright.  What was his original goal?”

“Does it matter?” Aizawa sighed.

“If we know where he started, might give us an idea of where he’ll go next,” Pathfinder suggested.

Meanwhile, Izuku scanned through the quirk section marked by a red tab.  The descriptions were honestly a bit embarrassing in how sparse they were.  There wasn’t even an attempt and analysis.  No discussions of weaknesses either.  But there were those that needed no description.

ALL FOR ONE

He shuddered and moved on.  Something called Bridge Between caught his eyes.  Another one with no description, but there was a tiny asterisk next to it.  A barely legible note at the bottom listed page 109.  Izuku went there.

‘Another World?’ read the header.  The notes were less crowded, but sloppier.  It took a moment to decipher individual words.  Those first two pages were stream of consciousness ramblings about UA still being in operation and if that meant what must have been events in his world still happened.  Then the phrase ‘other me’ appeared.

‘But why?  It’s not fair.  What’s going on?  I don’t understand.  I wanna go home.’

He turned the page.

‘Plan A: Swan Dive’

“He was trying to get me to kill myself,” Izuku said reactively.  The air in the car stalled.  He read in between the lines of the vague description.  He knew what they meant.  “He was trying to, to hurt me bad enough I couldn’t take it.”  Izuku couldn’t stop the stray tear.  “Then, after a while, he would show up and take my place.”  Most of the section was an elaborate fantasy about his classmates, Mom, and All Might apologizing for not loving him enough.  There was something gross about it.  The same sort of desperate, self-insert fanfiction Izuku wrote when he was twelve.  “The idea was that everyone would be so relieved for a, a replacement, that they wouldn’t ask too many questions.”  The All Might part included him apologizing for saying he couldn’t be a hero.  Longing panged his heart.  Izuku wished All Might was there. 

Aizawa rubbed his shoulder again, and Pathfinder passed him a tissue box.

“Is there a plan B?” the chief asked.

“Y-yeah,” Izuku sniffed.  Plan B was untitled and much more gruesome.  The goal was to dump him dead or alive back in Butterfly’s home dimension, then turn up after a little time passed pretending to be him.  He spun a story that mixed the truth of his imprisonment with fake details to throw off suspicion.  The basic gist was that he had been kidnapped by villains and tortured in a time loop that was years to him but days to everyone else.  Also he lost some of his memories and trapped the villains in their pocket dimension that only their quirks could access when he escaped so don’t bother trying to find them.  There was a section near the end where Butterfly debated with himself about cutting off his own wings when he came back to seem less threatening.

Izuku relayed all this to the group, except the accompanying fantasy.  This time, it was all Mom.  She would cry and pick him up like when he was little, and not let go for the rest of the day.  There was even a reminder in the margins to do the reveal in the morning so the long hug would last longer.  Then, she’d take him home and clean him up, singing old lullabies the whole time.  Finally, he would sleep in the same bed as her every night forever.  Izuku would be lying if he said he didn’t see the appeal.  He hadn’t seen Mom in weeks. 

I miss her.  He recalled the message at the beginning about what happened to the other Mom, but didn’t dare turn back.  I hope she’s okay…

The soft sentiment was undercut by the morbidity of the specific strategies right next to it.  There were more addresses listed, which Izuku recognized as some of the League connections Butterfly attacked.  Only some mentioned what they actually did, and even then only bare bones.  How could he be like this?  Killing people, even villains, so freely.  Something tugged at his mind.  Shigaraki at the USJ, and how Izuku was willing to his him with one hundred percent of One for All.  That was different!  He was going to kill Tsuyu!  What about Muscular?  He didn't know if the man could take a fully-powered punch to the head.  But Kota!  And Overhaul.  Even before he started throwing one hundred percent around, he could have taken him out with his iron soles.  But, but I'm not like that!  Then why is this the first time I'm thinking about it?

“Is there anything else?”

Startled from his thoughts, Izuku skimmed through the last pages one more time.  “N-no.  It looks like that’s it.”

“So,” the chief grunted.  “Our friend out there is probably working on plan C as we speak.  Which means we need one too.”  He scanned the room, and landed on Izuku.  “Well?”

“Huh?”  Izuku put down the notebook.

“What’s he gonna do next now that the cat’s out of the bag on who he is?”

The other adults looked to him expectantly.  His fingers started shaking.

“Midoriya,” Nezu got his attention.  “I know it hurts to think about, but at the end of the day, you and Butterfly come from the same place.  You have a better chance of predicting his next move than any of us.” 

Aizawa put a hand on his back.  “I know how good of a strategist you are.”  His other hand made a fist against Izuku’s chest.  “If you were him, what would you do?”

He smiled at the slight reassurance, but just for a moment.  “It, it’s like All Might said at the hospital,” he started.  “Some kind of mental quirk.  A mind-wipe or memory alteration, so everyone forgets the damage he’s done, and he can fit into this world.”  Fit into the space I leave behind, he didn’t say.  “He’d use a memory quirk to reset everyone, then go back to one of the other plans.”  Everyone stayed quiet, so Izuku kept going.  “I-I think he’s getting more impatient, so plan B is more likely.”

“Alright then, how to we stop him?” the chief sighed.  “Who’s got suggestions.”

There was a beat.

“I’ll start.”  Tsukauchi gestured at the screen again.  An image of the wing Izuku ripped off appeared.  “I had some quirk specialists analyze this specimen from Butterfly, and they found out some details we may be able to use.”  The slide changed to cells under a microscope.  “Those lines there are nerve cells, though they showed no evidence of recent activity.  Some parts had even started to necrotize.”  He glanced back at Izuku.  “There wasn’t much resistance when you tore it off, correct?”

Aizawa and Nezu’s heads snapped harshly towards him, though the latter remained unreadable.  His homeroom teacher on the other hand looked horrified.

We are the same…  “Yeah…”

Tsukauchi went back to his presentation.  “There are rare autoimmune disorders where a person’s body rejects their own quirk factor that leaves similar damage to mutation features.  According to All Might’s testimony, Butterfly admitted that he no longer had the quirk for these smaller wings, plus some others.  His notes confirm it.”

Izuku hadn’t really thought about what happened to someone’s body when their quirk was stolen.  All Might’s quirk was already unnatural, and it faded gradually.  Mirio and Ragdoll seemed okay physically, but their quirks weren’t the sort that altered their appearances.  How painful was it to walk around with entire vestigial body parts?

“The other thing is that this limb had almost no fat on it, and the muscles were severely deteriorated.  At first, we thought this was a side effect of the limited nerve connection, but given the pictures, it appears the rest of Butterfly’s body is in a similar state.”  A new slide of more cells.  “Have a look here.  These are skin cells near the tear.  See those spots at the edges?  Chromosomes lining up for a split.  Every single cell in the region entered a state of accelerated mitosis.  A standard symptom of a regeneration quirk.”

“I get it now,” Izuku said without thinking.  He shrunk back, but Nezu gestured for him to explain.  “Uh, well, y-you know how Recovery Girl’s healing quirk draws from a person’s stamina?”  They all nodded.  “Right.  I have a classmate, Yaoyorozu, she can create objects from her fat cells.  Butterfly’s regeneration quirk might work the same way.”  Nezu sipped his tea looking satisfied while the others listened.  “His body may interpret the vestigial parts of old quirks like something bad.  Something that needs to be healed.  That, plus the way his other quirk breaks his own bones, means that he’s in a constant state of trying to heal himself.”  Izuku wanted to take in the looks of praise the adults gave him, but his mind was preoccupied with trying to imagine the sensation of his body endlessly eating itself.

“But to my understanding, healing quirks like Recovery Girl’s have limits.  If she were to use her quirk on someone who lacked the necessary stamina, it would kill them,” Pathfinder spoke up.  “Why hasn’t Butterfly starved to death?”

Izuku flinched.

“Yeah.  Even with all the evidence of food runs, no way it’s enough to sustain him,” Aizawa agreed.  

Something cold coiled in Izuku’s stomach.

“Let me guess.  Another quirk, right?” the chief suggested.

“Looks like it,” Tsukauchi concurred.  “There’s a quirk listed in there that’s said to prevent organ failure.  We theorize that All for One has something similar.”  Izuku eyed the notebook again, but something held him back from checking.  “But…  The thing about starvation is…”  He paused, peering subtly at Izuku.  He understood.

This is something All Might told him.

“When the body doesn’t have food, it reabsorbs fat cells,” he described cautiously.  “When the body runs out of fat cells, it goes after muscle.  After muscle…  It varies but the first thing to go tends to be cardiac tissue.  Death by starvation is ultimately cardiac arrest.”

He’s always on the brink of a heart attack, Izuku realized.  Fighting tears, he scanned the quirk list again.  Nothing there described what Butterfly had done to him before.  No distant pain.  No despair.  No dread.  But he kept landing back on a single word: Empathy.  That’s the dread, isn’t it?  Feeling what he feels…

“Is a heart attack part of your proposed strategy?”  The chief had the decency to sound a little taken back.

“Wha- No!  Absolutely not!” Tsukauchi defended.  “He’s a villain from another dimension but he still has rights.  All Might was able to get him to cooperate by offering food, and we may be able to do the same.”

“Butterfly is also an All Might fanatic,” Nezu countered.  He deliberately focused on the others instead of Izuku.  “And he is indisposed for the moment recovering from the end of their last encounter.”

“He meant to hurt me…” Izuku muttered.  Only Aizawa heard him.

“My idea is that we trap, or at least corner him.”  The detective returned to his seat.  “If we can hold him long enough, he might become desperate enough to comply in exchange for food.”

“That’s a bit on the medieval side, detective,” Nezu prodded coldly.  Izuku remembered suddenly that Nezu had been experimented on in the past.  Food was the main motivator for lab animals.  “Though a trap does seem like the best option.  With such a menagerie of quirks and his constant motion, a strike team being effective is too farfetched.”

“What about the fact that he teleports?” Aizawa brought up.

Izuku remembered bitterly how he disappeared right in front of him not once but twice.  Right after he attacked the shelter, then on the train platform.  But something wasn’t right.  Butterfly stabbed Mt. Lady when she grabbed him, then teleported.  And the shelter…

“I believe his teleportation is him traveling between this and his dimension, no-”

“What does it matter?  Either way, he’ll just poof away when we corner him.”

“Maybe not…” Izuku piped up.  He didn’t wait for the others to look at him.  “When Butterfly attacked the shelter, Todoroki froze him against the wall.  He burnt through it and ran outside, then jumped.  Why not do it right as he was attacked?  He could have phased out and back in to dodge, but he didn’t.”  He flipped the book back to the Jakku ramblings.  “There’s a bunch of stuff here that implies UA got shut down or downsized or something in his world.”  Nezu’s ear twitched.  “And last night, he said he didn’t realize how bad All for One was until he got your quirk, Aizawa-sensei.”  His teacher’s expression was the interested version of blank.  “The most likely time for the League to have captured you to steal your quirk is the USJ attack.  I think a lot of my class was hurt too.”  Butterfly has Anivoice from Koda.  What if the others were kidnapped too?  No, focus.  “If that was the cause of UA losing a lot of public trust…  What if they never built the dorms there?”

The grownups lifted their heads in realization.

“I see,” Pathfinder mused.  “Perhaps Butterfly couldn’t cross back over if something was obstructing the space…”

“Exactly!”

“It makes sense.  The space where the dorm shelters are now was nothing but dirt and concrete before,” Nezu supplemented.

“So, we build something new, and lure Butterfly to it.”  Aizawa crossed his arms.  “How do we get him inside?”

“I could help with that.”  Pathfinder smiled for the first time Izuku had ever seen.  “He has my quirk now.  It’s impossible to get around completely but there are ways to mess with it.”  He turned back to the white board and drew a single squiggly line that crisscrossed over itself.  “If the trap was some sort of maze, we count have Midoriya walk through it over and over in circles, layering the paths and making them difficult to distinguish timeframes.”

“The path going in could be bait too.”

“Meanwhile Midoriya leaves to safety out a hidden back way.”

“We could have Cementoss construct a network of tunnels with some traps perhaps.”

“He could change them after Midoriya does walkthroughs too.”

“And lots of corners for heroes to jump out of.”

For the first time, everyone felt optimistic about their chances.  But for Izuku, it was short lived.  His mind wandered back to the dread.  His starving body and broken limbs.  So many quirks he could barely think straight.  The sheer pain Butterfly was in.  How desperate he was not only to find a new home, but to stop hurting.  If he were in his shoes, Izuku would want to make it all stop as soon as possible.  And just like that, he thought of something horrible.

“Or…”  They all stopped talking.  “I think…  I think Butterfly has another plan…”  Izuku shrunk under the weight of their stares.  It was an ugly thing to admit he would consider such a thing.  That his mind, that of a hero-in-training and the future Symbol of Peace, would dare circle such depths of depravity.  But Butterfly was already a proof of concept.  Torture and isolation aside, a singular event pushed him down the path of being willing to kill others with reckless abandon.  Shigaraki.  Muscular.  Overhaul.  Izuku didn’t hold back when he fought them.  One for All would have made it easy.  It was only the limits of his own body combined with their abilities to dodge or endure that kept them alive.  He hadn’t even thought about the consequences in those moments.  It was a part of him.  The only difference between him and Butterfly was that the other one was successful.  We’re the same…  To hold back now was active complacence. 

“…  Kid?”

“A bodyswap quirk,” he spoke.  All the optimistic energy sapped away.  “It would solve all his problems in one fell swoop.  His wounds, the quirks…”  Me.  Izuku tightened his locked fingers.  “If I were him,” -and I am- “I would steal a bodyswap quirk, plus a bunch of new offensive quirks to throw off these notes, and switch the two of us during a fight.  A-a crowded fight.”  Izuku elaborated.  His eyes stung, but the tears were easily controlled.  A strange wave of calm came over him, and he hated it.  “He probably knows we need a large group to disorient him.  He might even know we’re planning a trap.  With Pathfinder’s quirk, I would need to stay in the trap to keep him from turning around right away.  During that, he, I, would briefly get the other me away from the group, but not too far, then swap us.”  Horror was written across the others’ faces.  “B-Butterfly has a lot of quirks and, and is in a lot of pain…  Probably disorienting, if not debilitating, to someone who’s not used to it, like he is…”  He swallowed thickly.  “I wouldn’t be able to defend myself like that.  Then the rest of the group would catch up, and capture me…  In Butterfly’s body.”  He imagined the pull of the wings at his back.  Muscles so weak he needs a quirk to move.  Dread that never goes away.  “If his healing quirk isn’t passive, strain and starvation might kill me before I figure out how to activate it.”  Images of cracked concrete flashed in his mind.  Shigaraki.  Muscular.  Overhaul.  “If he doesn’t kill me first.”

Chapter Text

Izuku didn’t know what day it was.  He didn’t even know if it was daytime at all.  Ever since he woke up to All Might having a conversation with a villain version of himself from another dimension, time started to fold in on itself.  The raw absurdity of that thought brought things back down to a crawl as he had to fight off another existential spiral.  Part of him almost wished the universe would explode from a paradox, just so he could stop thinking about it.  Or at least get some rest.  He hadn’t slept much either.

“Need a break?” Pathfinder asked.

“No, it’s okay,” he responded.  “I’m fine.”  He marched ahead.  His iron soles clanked and echoed through the tunnels.  When they reached an intersection, he went right randomly. 

He had no idea how big the tunnel complex was.  Izuku only knew that it was multilayered and shifted around every couple hours, so it didn’t matter what direction he went.  The design was deceptively simple: miles of seven by seven hallways of pure concrete with a handful of rooms scattered throughout.  There were no stairs, only inclines so subtle one hardly noticed them at all.  A student in the support department developed self-powered lights the size of drink coasters that were stuck to the ceiling every ten feet.  Each one was as bright as car headlights.  An unseen mechanism kept the air flowing, but Izuku wouldn’t have known had he not been told.  The air was cold, dry, and stale. 

He rounded another corner into a dead end.  The wall was completely smooth, Cementoss’ signature.  His teacher once mentioned how he always wanted to make a big labyrinth.  Did he enjoy making this?  Look forward to changing it every little while?  The grey looked sickly pale yellow under the harsh lights.  Like skin.  Instead of turning around, he just stopped.  Izuku didn’t know why. 

“Let’s keep going.  I’ll lead,” Pathfinder drew him from his daze.  Izuku followed without a word. 

The ground rumbled faintly.  Another change.  He slowed his steps to try and feel. 

Not too far.  That makes six, I think.  It might have been a good measure of time if Izuku knew the intervals.  And that was assuming one, there was an exact schedule for the changes to the maze; and two, that the maze wasn’t so big that he could feel the vibrations of every alteration.  He especially doubted that last one.

The communicator on Pathfinder’s belt caught his eye.  It was one of those super high-quality ones high-ranking rescue pros use.  A little green box with a wire up to the man’s ear.  According to Izuku’s research, they could still get a message to the surface from up to two miles underground.  Rumor online was some could go up to five.  Thirteen loaned theirs so Pathfinder could keep up with the team at the entrance.

“Um, Pathfinder?” he spoke up.

“Hmm?”

“You’d tell me if something happened, right?”

“Of course.”  He hesitated.  It was brief, but he hesitated.  Izuku bit his lip, and they kept walking.

One part of the maze never changed.  The central complex was a series of large rooms and square spiraling hallways near the one and only entrance.  Izuku recognized the hallway right away, though couldn’t describe how if asked.  They just felt different.  More air maybe.  Even if it felt like they got a little narrower every time he walked down them.

The “lobby” stood identical to the main bunker under the school, except for the doorway at the back to the tunnels.  The space dwarfed the scattered heroes and law enforcement.  Izuku didn’t recognize any of them.  They were all obscure among the obscures; recent graduates of smaller hero schools, newcomers from other countries who only just started working in Japan, and undergrounders who worked even deeper than Eraserhead.  The idea was that if Izuku knew who they were, so would Butterfly.

They weren’t there the last time Izuku walked through.  He kept his eyes to the ground as they passed.  Aizawa and Midnight were the only familiar faces he knew would be on the roster, though they weren’t around yet.  Pathfinder was also meant to take a back seat once the fighting started.

In order for the plan to work, they had to bait Butterfly into the tunnels.  In order to get Butterfly into the tunnels, they had to exploit Butterfly using Pathfinder’s quirk to follow Izuku down there.  In order to get Butterfly to see the path, Izuku had to go outside.  Three massive vault doors stood between the tunnel lobby and the exit stairs.  Each needed a special keycard to open.  The creak they made as they opened made Izuku’s skin crawl.  Someone suggested lining the in-between areas with traps, but he didn’t know if they were implemented.  The walls and floors were as sickeningly smooth as everything else.  Five flights of stairs did his aching feet no favors, and the even lower light even less to prepare his eyes for the harsh light of outside.

Cold air hit him like a slap to the face as soon as Pathfinder cracked open the door.  The hair on the back of Izuku’s neck stood up.  He went to feel it, finding the edge of his surgery scar.  The scrapped winter modification to his costume came to mind.  The turtleneck.  The one that felt like it choked him during the exorcise where he fell four stories after getting a dread attack midair. 

Would I have kept the turtleneck if that hadn’t happened?  Butterfly’s image invaded his mind.  He pictured him stalking the exorcise from the windows of the hollow buildings, just waiting for the right moment to make it look like an accident.  Izuku shivered, but not from the cold.

The grass died.  That was the first thing Izuku noticed when his eyes adjusted to the light.  What had still been green when he left for All Might’s place, now brown and barren-looking.  The dry crunch under his feet told him it was afternoon; morning frost would have left it wet.  The overcast sky didn’t give any hints to the time of day.  I miss the sun.

The façade outside the tunnel entrance looked like a groundskeeper shed.  For all Izuku knew, it really was a shed and the school just built a giant labyrinth under it.  He robotically walked towards the nearest sidewalk through the leafless trees, just as he had the (he lost count) times he had before.

Pathfinder blocked his way.  “This way.”

A shot of fear spiked Izuku’s heart.  Is this it?  Is Butterfly here and they’re moving me?  Did they come up with a new plan without telling me?

But he just gestured to the base of a tree, and instructed: “Sit.”

“Huh?”

“Break time.”  He stepped to the side.

Izuku didn’t have the energy to be frustrated.  Despite knowing it was a waste of valuable time, he collapsed to the ground with a sigh.  Without weight on them, he finally realized just how bad his feet hurt.  His socks felt soggy.  He prayed it was just sweat, and not blood.  He faced away from the school.

“Can I see my friends?” he all but begged.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Pathfinder responded.

Izuku knew that would be the answer, but it still hurt.

“Are there any updates?”

“You should try and take your mind off i-”

“I can’t!”  He hadn’t meant to be so loud.  Pathfinder didn’t show a reaction.  “I’m sorry.  I’m sorry.”  He shook his head.

“It’s okay,” he spoke evenly.

Izuku pulled his knees to his chest.  He picked up a leaf, and crumbled it in his hands.  After a few more leaves, he looked to Pathfinder.  The man stood a few feet away, head tilted up. 

“What about you?  Aren’t you tired?  You’ve been with me the whole time…” he commented.

“Don’t worry about me.  I have to hike everyday for my job remember?” 

Yeah but we’ve been awake for hours, Izuku wanted to say.  But the man didn’t show any sign of fatigue.  Was that another mark of a pro, even a relative small-timer like Pathfinder?  Being able to go without sleep for days?  If that’s the case, I still have a long way to go, he thought, fighting off his drooping eyelids.

“Are all the Jakku heroes like that?”

“More or less,” he shrugged.  “When you live in a place with lots of mountains, you pick it up.”

“What about after this?”  Izuku slammed his hand over his mouth, beyond embarrassed.  His tired brain didn’t think through how insensitive that was.

“Now that my quirk is gone, you mean?” he finished.  Izuku shrunk away.  “I’m of course angry and upset, but it’s not all bad…”  He adjusted his feet a little.  “Stripes assured me I still have a job if I want it.  Hmm.  And they probably still need me, unless someone else decides to put in the effort to get ranger training,” Pathfinder chuckled.  He turned back to the sky.  “And then, without my quirk, I can finally see the world as it is.”

“What do you mean?” he spoke up quietly.

“My quirk was passive.  It had no off switch.  So, at all hours of the day, my line of sight was dominated by crisscrossing colors and patterns without end.”  He sighed a bit.  “Part of why I sought work in a place like Jakku was the smaller population meant less of a sensory overload.”

“That sounds like, like a lot,” Izuku said.  He pictured the notebook page he would write about him.  Old habits die hard.

“It was, at times.  But it could also be beautiful.  I’ve yet to see such vibrance in the world outside my quirk.”  He turned his face fully from Izuku, who in turn looked back at the leaves on the ground.  “But I suppose the world’s natural beauty is something I now have the opportunity to take in.”

Izuku wouldn’t have pegged Pathfinder as an optimist before that.  When Mirio lost his quirk, his focus was on being happy in spite of his condition.  All Might accepted the inevitability of One for All fading from him.  How many people around me are going to lose their quirk?  I know it’s not my fault, but…

“There are no updates, by the way.”  Snap back to the present.  Pathfinder stowed his communicator.  “No new sightings, encounters, or stolen food reports.”

Izuku swallowed.  His mind scrambled for a response.

“Something tells me he hasn’t just given up…” he said darkly.

“He’s probably back in his home dimension,” Izuku found himself saying.  ‘We can’t track him there, or communicate with heroes on the other side…”  He swallowed again.  “He can hunt for quirks without much opposition.”

“You have such little faith in our counterparts?” Pathfinder questioned.  Izuku tilted his head.  “His is still a world of heroes.”

“No, I didn’t mean that…”  He thought back to Butterfly’s notes.  “I don’t think there’s as much of a concentrated effort to stop him over there.  Sure, he was on the run, but if he were public enemy number one, I think he would have written that down.”

“What sort of quirks do you think we can expect?”

“Big offensive ones,” he responded without hesitation.  Pathfinder listened.  “I don’t think he would be interested in more body modifications, so probably elemental or energy emitter-type quirks.  Or something to manipulate the environment, or other people’s bodies.  Maybe a shield too.”  His mouth flattened.  “Stereotypical hero quirks.”

“And a bodyswap quirk.”

Izuku tensed.  “Yeah.  That too…”

A brief pause.

“Hmm.  You really think he would do something like that?” Pathfinder honestly prompted.  Would you do it, he really asked.

“I thought of it, therefor, so could he.”  His voice cracked.  “If I were that tired, in that much pain with so much against me…  I, I’d want to do something that solved everything at once.”  I’m in good health.  I’m at my dream school on the way to becoming a hero, like I always wanted.  I’m surrounded by people who love me…

“What about other people?  He could pull the bodyswap on anyone so we think the threat is over, then go after you again once everyone’s guard is down,” he countered.

Izuku shook his head.  “But then he’d have to get rid of me in someone else’s body, which would be harder to fight and cover up if he won.  And if he lost, it would be over,” he explained.  “He would also have to impersonate that person for who knows how long to avoid suspicion.  He might be able to blend in as me, but others would be trickier.  Not to mention bodyswap quirks that transfer quirks with the swap, even for the user, are unheard of.  If he didn’t go straight to me, he’d probably be stuck.”  It was normal for Izuku to feel embarrassed when others stared at him for rambling.  But this was a whole new level of shame.  “And, if he saw going through someone else as an option, he would have tried it already.”

“What if he has?”

Izuku inhaled sharply.

“Sorry.  Sorry, that was uncalled for,” Pathfinder apologized.  The cold afternoon was quiet around them.

“No, you’re right,” Izuku mumbled.  “We have no idea where he is, and he could be up to everything…”

“You mean anything?”

“…  Y-yeah.”  Izuku couldn’t fight his tears anymore.  I hate this.  I hate this I hate this I hate this!  I don’t want to be here.  I don’t wanna go back in the tunnels!  I want things to go back to normal, with all my friends and my Mom and All Might!  He hid his face in his knees.  I miss Mom and All Might!  This isn’t fair!  Why is Butterfly me!?  What’s wrong with me!?  A painful sob blocked air from going into his lungs.  What if, even if we stop Butterfly, everyone finds out I’m him?  Will they force me out of the school?  Will they lock me away too?  Dread, the sort he knew came from within himself, crept cold into his heart.  What if Butterfly wins?

Pathfinder touched his shoulder.  Izuku flinched away hard.  Before the embaressment could set in, he got to his feet and marched back towards the shed. 

“Let’s just go,” he grumbled.  He wiped his tears with his glove.  What sort of hero was he?  Crying all the time?  Look at Butterfly.  He practically got turned into a cenobite, and he doesn’t cry!  I’m pathetic.  I don’t deserve all the help I’m getting!

“…  Maybe, we can arrange to talk to your friends later,” Pathfinder said after him.  He caught up, and held his keycard up to a scanner disguised as a crack in the wooden door.

It was a hollow platitude and they both knew it.  Izuku ignored him, but lost his nerve the moment he found himself at the top of the stairwell.

The worst part about taking a break outside was how hard it was to go back inside.  From the doorway, the stairs down looked so dark.  How many people are down there?  How many more will show up to fight?  All because of me… 

“What?” Pathfinder, the sidekick who lost his quirk defending him, asked.

All the heroes down there were unkowns.  Some where just starting their careers.  Izuku knew popularity didn’t directly correspond to power or ability, but he would have had some reassurance from knowledge maybe.  And this was going to be a covert operation.  If something bad happened, their families may never learn the truth.  Do they even know what they were getting involved in?

“Midoriya?”

He thought of Mirio.  Lemillion.  The hero who held his own for several minutes against Overhaul, a villain who could kill instantly with a single touch, and he did it quirkless.  Butterfly killed the other him when he still had his quirk plus One for All.  He fought off his whole class while clearly holding back.  And he’s off gathering even more power.

“Midoriya?”  Pathfinder got right in his face.

“…  This place is a tomb,” Izuku mumbled.

The quickless sidekick stood up straight.  “Let’s make sure it’s not yours.” 

And that’s what they were all doing, weren’t they?  All those heroes were there to protect someone.  That someone just happened to be Izuku.  Butterfly was a villain.  He needed to be stopped no matter who he targeted.  Because that’s what heroes do.  That’s what All Might entrusted him to do.  he couldn’t let him, or anyone else, down.

Izuku took a deep breath.  The ocean of fear and doubt remained, but he would cling to the life preserver of his ideals for as long as he could.  That’s all he could do.

“Right.”  And he descended once more into the trap he set for himself.

By some miracle, Inko managed not to faint when the nurse drew her blood.  It was still a long few seconds.  Each moment pounded through her head.  She covered her face and bit her lip the whole time.

And then it was over.  The nurse removed the tube, patched her up, and was even polite enough to keep the small blood-filled bag out of her sight as she left.  Inko didn’t breathe a sigh of relief until she was gone.

“How exactly does this help catch the villain?” she asked the detective.  She hoped she didn’t come off as rude as that felt. 

“He’s been mostly going after your son, but we have reason to believe he would go after you too, given the chance,” Tsukauchi explained.  “We may be able to use some of your blood to draw his attention.”

Inko felt lightheaded just thinking about it.  “What about Izuku?  Is he somewhere safe?”  She hadn’t heard her son’s voice in over a week and updates were sparse.  The last one said his last hiding place was compromised and they wouldn’t be able to move him to a new one.  No one explained to her what that meant.  “Please.  Where is my baby?” she pleaded.

“Hold on a moment,” he answered, leading her to the elevator.  The detective held up his badge to a scanner, then pressed the button to a restricted floor.  “I honestly don’t know what the plan is,” he confessed, to Inko’s horror.  “I only know they plan to set a trap at UA.  They want to keep information limited to the people directly involved to avoid being found out by the vill-”

“You’re lying,” she accused.  Inko would be the first to admit she wasn’t good at picking up people’s lies, but this was blatant.  “I know you’re friends with All Might and you’re on the League of Villains case.  And I know you thought this Butterfly character was one of them at first, so you have to be involved.”  Her fists shook at her sides.  “Where.  Is.  Izuku?”

His poker face cracked ever so slightly.  The bell for the floor rang, but he pushed the close-door button.

“Butterfly picked up a tracking quirk.  Izuku will take advantage of that and lead him into the trap.”  Inko bristled, but he cut her off.  “As soon as the danger appears, he gets cut off from the combat team and escorted to safety.”

Inko was not appeased in the slightest.  Anger and fear bubbled just under the surface, but her reason held it back.  The detective spoke with such finality.  The plan was already in motion, and the trap could be sprung as they speak.  They wouldn’t listen to her anyway.  There was nothing she could do.  So she swallowed a sob, and with barely concealed rage, said:

“Thank you, Detective.”

He nodded curtly and led her down the hall.

Context clues told her this was the fabled hero wing right away.  Wide empty halls, doors without windows or name plates, and panels in the ceiling that clearly hid…  Something.  The people who drove her explained that she would be stationed there for the perceivable future.  Exactly why eluded her, but the implications alone were frightening. 

I’m so tired of this.  I just want to go home to my baby.

They stopped at a door identical to all the others.  The detective scanned his badge again, and opened the door without another word.

“All Might?” she exclaimed.

The old hero looked up from a book in his lap and seemed just as surprised.  “Mrs. Midoriya?”  He appeared even more out of sorts that usual.  Harsh florescent lights combined with his own paleness to highlight his gaunt features.  The oxygen tubes blended in at first.  His hair rested flatter than normal; he must not have showered in at least a few days.  And he looked absolutely miserable.

Detective Tsukauchi said a quick goodbye, then disappeared.

The following silence lasted a long time.

“How much did they tell you?” All Might asked cautiously.

“I have a feeling…  Not much,” she responded.  He gestured to a chair beside his hospital bed, which she took.  There was another bed beyond his.  They expected her to stay in here with him.  “What are you reading?”  Inko wasn’t sure why she asked.  She knew what she really wanted to know, but something held her back from asking.

“Oh this,” he sighed.  “It’s a book of old American science fiction.  I, uh, loaned it to your son before this all started.  The day before I believe.”  He chuckled painfully.  “I feel like I cursed him, honestly.  I recommended this story about the Butterfly Effect.  It was my favorite, and I wanted to share it with him.  And from there, everything spiraled out of control.”  The chuckle turned into a cough, then a sob.  “Now there’s a monster after him and I can’t protect him.”  He gripped the pages so tight his nails scratched against the paper, making Inko’s skin crawl.  “He’s strong.  He’s so strong and getting better every day.  And impossibly kind.  He’s going to be the greatest hero the world has ever seen,” he rambled.  His head wobbled back and forth in a way he didn’t look fully in control of.  “But, but the stronger he gets…  The more I want to hold him back.  Where he’s safe.  I know it’s bad for him but I just can’t help it.” 

“Welcome to parenthood,” she joked through her own tears.  Never in her life did Inko think she would ever relate to the Symbol of Peace.  Yet here they were, both crying over her son.  His cried became coughs again.  She caught a glimpse of the bandages beneath his scrubs.  “It attacked you, didn’t it?  What does is want with my baby?” she begged.

All Might gaped, trying to find the words.  “He…  It, is trying to, to steal your son’s life…”

“But why!?” Inko shouted.  All Might recoiled hard.  “I’m sorry I didn’t mean to yell…  Can you please tell me what happened?”

“Mrs. Midoriya I did something terrible,” he wept.

“What?” she cried, exasperated.

“Th-there.”  He pointed to a duffel bag in the corner.  “Izuku’s stuff is there.  The stuff he brought over to hide.”

Confused, Inko retrieved the bag and set it down on the bed where All Might gestured.  She immediately went for her son’s yellow backpack.

“I don’t think anything’s stolen.  Butterfly never touched it.”

Inside was Izuku’s old ratty All Might plushie, and his faded blue blankie.  She gasped.  Inko had no idea he even knew where to find this stuff, let alone that he went back for it.  She picked up the blanket as if it were made of glass.  Then she broke down again, and hugged it close to her chest.

“This is the blanket I brought him home in, did you know that?” she whimpered.

“I’m not even sure Izuku knows that,” he responded.  The warmth of his grin betrayed its sadness.  He dug through the bag.  Frail arms struggled through old clothes.  He found what he was after before she could offer to help.  “The rest of this I believe was stolen from your apartment.  Butterfly left it behind.”  All Might handed her a photo album.  Deep blueish-green faded at the corners and hinges, covered in stickers.

She opened it.  There was baby Izuku dressed as a little pumpkin for Halloween.  One of the only times he didn’t pick his own costume.  Inko couldn’t fight the smile it brought on.  All Might looked on out of the corner of her eye and smiled too.  She turned through more happy memories.  Going down the slide with Izuku on her lap.  Him chasing pigeons as a little toddler.  An old drawing he did of a cat, laminated and looped into the album.  Years and years of happy times.  She knew the real times weren’t always so happy, but it was nice to have reminders. 

The album ended far too quick, but not because she wanted more.  There should be more.  The last picture was Izuku posed in the living room for his first day of middle school.  Her smile fell.

Where’s UA?  I know I put pictures from UA here…  She knew she took a picture the night he got his acceptance letter.  And his first day.  And the Sports Festival, his hero license, and a clipping of him from a news article.  There was no way she forgot to put those in.  Wait, did I see any of Hisashi?  She flipped the pages back, and it came loose from the metal loop.  It was bent slightly, and didn’t close all the way.  Suddenly, it all came back to her.

“It’s nice to see a time when you two were so ha-”

“All Might, this isn’t mine,” she interrupted.

“Wh-at?” he coughed.

“I mean, it has my pictures yes, but not all of them.  Nothing of UA or my husband.  And I recognize the album itself, b-but I transferred all the pictures to a new book months ago because of this broken loops.”  Inko looked to the old hero, expecting him to think her overreacting.  Instead, a single tear fell from under his shadowed brow.  He knew.  “All Might,” she demanded his attention.  His shoulders folded like a scared child, and he tried to hide a hiccup behind his hand.  Her stomach fell away, as did most of her confidence.  The Symbol of Peace, retired or not, shouldn’t look this broken.  “What’s going on?”

He raised his eyes to hers slowly, and spoke in a whisper.  “Nothing can prepare you for what I’m about to tell you.”

Something jolted Katsuki awake.  He reflexively swung an exploding palm, hitting a hardened Kirishima in the face.  His worried expression didn’t change.

“Aizawa’s back,” he said.

Katsuki sobered instantly.  A quick glance at his phone revealed it was almost eleven at night.  He followed the other boy back up the stairs out of the shelter silently, something heavy building in his chest all the while.  That weight dropped into his stomach when he saw everyone else in the common space.  They were all gathered around the couch, most still in their pajamas, sitting silently.  Aizawa sat on the table in the middle.  On their level.  Cementoss stood off to the side.  Eri was gone, despite having been with them before Katsuki went to bed.  Bad news then.

“He’s dead, it’s he?” Katsuki growled.

“What!?” the rest of the room gasped.  They all stood up and frantically shouted over one another.  Some of the girls and Sparkles started to cry. 

Aizawa side-eyed him hard before he spoke.

“Listen.”  All the extras shut up.  “Midoriya is not dead.”  He let them all breath a sigh of relief before he went on.  Katsuki would have denied taking advantage of it.  “But we have reason to believe avoiding Butterfly is no longer possible.”

The room was already cold, but the chill that went up everyone’s spines turned it arctic.

“S-so what now then?” Soy-Sauce Face piped up.  “What’s gonna happen to Midoriya?”

“Be quiet and I’ll explain,” he responded harshly.  Aizawa rubbed his temples.  “For the record, I do not like this plan, but it’s the best one we have.  And it involves bringing Butterfly here to campus.”

Stunned silence.

“B-but-”

“Which means,” Aizawa said over Invisibitch, “you all need to get out of the line of fire.”  He stood up as nonchalantly as ever.  “Grab whatever you need that isn’t already in the shelter, and meet back down there.  You have thirty minutes.”

Cementoss stepped up as Aizawa walked off.  “This may be a multi-day operation, so pack like it.  Changes of clothes, toiletries, entertainment and schoolbooks.  Oh!  And your hero costumes!”

The others were slow to get going.  Katsuki ignored their nervous whispers.

“Thought we were getting out of the line of fire,” he commented bitterly. 

“Yes, but better to be safe than sorry,” the cinderblock responded.

“Tch.”  He stomped off towards the stairs, pushing past the extras.  Hiding’s stupid.  That Butterfly bastard was clearly overwhelmed fighting a big group in a tight space.  If the adults are setting a trap anyway, shouldn’t there be more hands on deck?  “We should be taking the fight to that creep.”

“Easy for you to say,” Weird-Tail snapped.  Said tail flicked around air when it moved.  “You’re the only one it didn’t touch.”  His tail still had a long line of stitches shaped like a horseshoe where Butterfly nearly tore off a chunk of him.

“Arg!  You watch it!”  His shout was more a reflex than anger.

“Hey, hey, cool it.  Let’s not fight right now,” Kirishima said, getting between them.  He pulled Katsuki out of the flow of the crowd towards the elevator.  When the doors closed, he sighed.  “Whatever the grownups’ plan is, please don’t get involved…”

“Hah!  That’s something coming from you!” Katsuki barked.  “Weren’t the little rescue mission you losers pulled your idea?”

“Yeah but, that was different.”

“How?”  Katsuki leaned against the wall with crossed arms.  “League had a whole bunch of creeps.  Butterfly’s just the one.”

“Dude, something about this thing just isn’t right.”  He wrapped his arms around himself.  His feet shuffled around.  “Haven’t you thought about how weird this all is?  How it cut through those League guys, but here it only went after Midoriya?”

In truth, Katsuki had thought about it.  A lot.  All that time and it only hurt Deku.  All that time, it could have killed him, but didn’t.  His palms itched again.  Even in the fight, when it was holding him hostage, it held back.  I lunged at it head on.  It could have hit me with three other wings or fire breath or whatever other quirks it has.  Even had one wing wound up…  But it didn’t.  It flinched.  What the fuck?

“And then there’s all the weird dreams…”

He sneered.  “You didn’t even have one of the death dreams!  Where are you getting off talking abo-”

“I don’t know!” he yelled.  Katsuki stepped back.  “I don’t know why it seems like I’m the only one who never had weird dreams!  I don’t know why this one villain has been able to get around everything thrown at him.  I don’t understand any of this!  I just…  This whole thing feels wrong, and I just want it to be over.”  He wiped a tear with his fist.  “I don’t think the adults are telling us everything they know.  If we go into that fight, not only are we at a huge disadvantage, but we’re also a liability.”

Katsuki grunted.

“Think about it.  The heroes haven’t been able to touch this guy for weeks, and then out of no where they have a plan to lure him to UA?” Kirishima rambled.  “They must have figured something out.  They can’t be bringing Butterfly here for no reason, and us getting involved without permission might screw up their plans.”

“Like hell!” he snapped back.  “If they found Butterfly’s weakness, I’ll be able to figure it out myself!”

The elevator dinged and the door opened.  Kirishima stepped in front.

“You heard Aizawa.  Midoriya can’t hide from Butterfly anymore.  His life is one the line!” he shouted.  Katsuki pushed past Shitty-Hair to his room, shoulders hunched tight.  “At least pretend to care!”  He couldn’t look him in the eyes. 

He didn’t actually need anything from his room.  He just wanted to be alone for a little bit after days of being stuck close to the others.  But now, he was alone with his thoughts.  Why the hell didn’t that bastard take such a clean shot?  Maybe it’s just stupid.  But it was able to lure Aizawa off campus.  And what the fuck is its fixation on the nerd?  He collapsed onto his bed.  It felt like ages since he’d laid in his own space.  Why doesn’t the stupid nerd ever save me in the dreams?  The only things he took back down were a few clothes and Punisher comics.

Everyone went back underground expecting a rundown of the plan to capture Butterfly.  They did not get one.  Instead, Cementoss sealed the shelter door completely.  Katsuki’s shoulders stiffened. 

“For your end,” he began, “the student body will all be housed together in the primary shelter under the main building, so we can all look after you at the same time.”  The concrete wall bubbled under his hand, and retreated back into a deep indent.  “Please walk close together, as I’m going to be sealing the tunnel behind us as we go.”

“That’s it!?” Katsuki steamed.  “That’s the same thing we been doing!  Just with more people!”

“Will you just shut up,” Round-face shouted at him.  The dark circles under her eyes did nothing to deter the fight the rest of her face promised.  Everyone else glowered at him in a similar way.  He just growled.

Cementoss cleared his throat.  “Let’s get moving then.” 

After he closed the tunnel, the only light was from flashlights.  The class stayed quiet.  The walk to the shelter wouldn’t take long, but air was still limited.  Shifting cement crunched and crumbled around them. 

Aizawa walked behind the rest to keep them moving.  Katsuki fell back in line.

“All Might was with Deku, wasn’t he?” he whispered.  The man had been conspicuously absent since the nerd left.

“Mhmm,” his teacher hummed.

Katsuki waited for him to elaborate, but spoke up when he didn’t.  “What happened to him.”

“Hospital.  Butterfly injured him.”  His tone warned that was all he was going to give up.

I bet he jumped in front of shitty Deku so the freak wouldn’t get him…  Images of Kamino flashed through his mind.  Katsuki grunted and shook his head.  Gah, how bad is it?  He better not fucking die!  Why is this taking so long!?  It’s not that far a walk to the main building and we’re just underground!  The little pocket of air surrounded by moving cement suddenly felt much smaller.

Something touched his back.  Katsuki flinched from Aizawa’s hand, and pushed back up to the front.

He felt the tunnel connect with the main shelter before he saw it.  Cool, conditioned air blasted through the first small holes like the best kind of hit to the face.  Katsuki took a deep breath reflexively.  It saved him a gasp.

Deku was there.  Right there, crouched down in the middle of the giant room with his arms tucked close to his chest wearing clothes he clearly didn’t buy himself with Eri hugging his neck. 

“Midoriya!”  A wave of cheers ran through the extras.  Katsuki side-stepped away from the stampede.  The nerd’s eyes went wide in surprise.  He looked halfway to taking a sloppy excuse for a defensive stance before they almost tackled him.  Deku recoiled hard, and they stopped.  Eri didn’t let go.  Some of the other teachers laughed on from a distance.  The firing squad of questions started.

“Dude, where have you been?”

“What happened?”

“Did the villain attack you?”

“Why can’t you hide anymore?”

“You’re gonna stay with us now, right?” Eri begged.

“Tch, of course he’s fine,” Katsuki sneered.  He put some distance between him and the mob to find a spot to set up his stuff.  Looks like we’re the first class here.  Oh joy, we get first choice of the cold hard floor.

“Please set up your stuff in the same area!” Midnight ordered.  “We’re going to do a headcount later and that’s a lot easier when the class is together!”  Her voiced echoed off the walls. 

Cementoss left through a new hole in the wall to go get some other loser classes.

Katsuki tossed his sleeping bag in the far corner.  The shelter felt smaller than it did during emergency drills.  Probably because they actually bothered to light the ceiling that time.  Doesn’t matter, he thought.  Butterfly could hide in plain sight.  He scanned around the edges of the ceiling.  A twitching light.  A shadow without a source.  Anything.  But his eyes just landed on Deku.

The rest of the extras were still drowning him in questions, which he’d barely answered.  Deku looked overwhelmed, but not in his normal ‘I’m an awkward loser’ way.  With the way his big eyes twitched while his face stayed tight made him look afraid.  Something was off.

“Midoriya,” Aizawa spoke over the chaos.

Good.  If he asks, the nerd will talk.

“Aren’t you supposed to be with Pathfinder?”

That angry sidekick from Jakku?  The fuck’s he doing here?

Eri still hadn’t released him from her hug, and Deku hunched over to keep both their feet on the ground.  One hand balance him on the floor, the other hovered curled near his shoulder.

“Oh?” he chimed surprised.  “We’re just taking a break.  A-and I figured I’d come and say hi.”  His voice cracked.  Like he was barely holding himself together. 

Eri yanked on his shirt.

Are ya hurt?  Why don’tcha just pick the brat up?  He looked fine.  In fact, he didn’t have any of the crap on him Katsuki expected.  No bandages or nothing.  Nerd couldn’t cross the street without getting in a fight, and here he was back from a villain attack without a scratch.  Sure, Aizawa didn’t say Deku had been in a fight with Butterfly, but it was obvious something went down.  But…  That Butterfly bastard didn’t hurt me either…

“We thought you were dead for a bit back there, dude,” Sparky butted in.  “You gotta tell us what happened!”

“Can you, though?” Four-Eyes joined.  “It’s still technically a case in progress.  Are you allowed to tell us anything?”

Deku looked to Aizawa.  Katsuki couldn’t quite catch his look from the side, but judging from the nerd’s relieved reaction, he was giving him the option.

“Like you said.  Confidential.”  His vice bounced in an almost but not quite sing-songy way.  That got Katsuki’s full attention.  He’d never heard that sort of thing come out of the nerd’s mouth before.

“Hey Dumbass, you hit your head or something?  Why’re you acting all weird, huh?” he demanded.  And believe it or not he regretted it right away.  Deku’s smile dropped hard as he turned back to Katsuki.  Eyes wide and mouth tight.  More flashes.  The bar.  The smell of cheap booze and fresh blood.  The numbness in his knees and toes from being strapped to a chair for two days.  There was a villain out to kill Deku.  Of course a weak loser like him would be affected.

Meanwhile, the others were barking the same thing at him.

“It’s okay, everyone,” Deku cut through.  His head bobbed to the side, new smile and all.

Still trying to help me when I don’t need it, you bastard.

He finally stood up.  Eri clung to his leg, while he gently threaded her hair between his fingers. 

“It’s just…”  His mouth hung open while he searched for the words.  His glassy eyes didn’t move.  “I’m tired.”  He didn’t look tired.  In fact, he looked more well-rested than any of them.  But it was hard to argue with that sad smile.

“Speaking of tired,” Aizawa started, “Eri.  Bedtime.  Come on.”  He turned around and waved for her to follow.  There was a little kiddie bed set up along the wall near the already-asleep Present Mic.

Eri looked up at Deku.  She raised her arms to be picked up, like Katsuki’d seen her do a bunch of times.  But Deku didn’t move.  He just stood there, looking down at her, with his hand still in her hair.

“Go on,” he insisted lightly.  There was that weird inflection again.  The others were idiots, but there was no way Katsuki was the only one catching it.  Clearly disappointed, Eri dropped her arms and trotted over to her caretaker.  Deku held up his hand, and watched her hair run through his fingers as she left.

He turned his attention back to the class, and cleared his throat.  It sounded like he was covering up a cough.  The extras looked at him the way fanatics looked at a priest.

“Um, I…  I just wanna say…  Thank you all for being my friends,” he said.  His voice wobbled like he was about to cry, but his face didn’t change much.  “You have no idea, absolutely no idea…  Wh-what that means to me.  I-I love you all.”  He bowed deeply.  “That you for taking care of me.”

Even if he didn’t cry, the rest did.

“Deku, don’t say that!  It makes it sound like you’re not coming back!” Round-face wailed.  She, along with the rest of the nerd squad, moved to hug him. 

He took a deliberate step back, and they stopped.  “Oh I’m coming back,” he declared.  Some of the fight in his voice returned.  “I promise I-I am coming back.”  During the silence that followed, Deku looked at all of their classmates.  He paused on Katsuki, sorrowful smile burning into his mind.

You’re so full of shit, Katsuki thought at him.  Cry.  Deku tilted his head.  Cry, dammit!  Why aren’t you crying!?  Don’t tell me you’ve accepted this!  Pushing back his own tears, he jumped to his feet.

“You fucking better, nerd!” he shouted so loud his throat scratched.  “You’re already a worthless loser!  You’re not allowed to be a liar too!”

Deku huffed.  “Don’t worry.  This will all be over soon.”

Something about the way he said it made Katsuki’s skin crawl.  The nerd was planning something.  Probably that self-sacrificial crap he always had going.  Damn his goddamn martyr complex.  The rest of the extras knew it too.  They had to.  But they just solemnly went to set up their crap in the corner. 

Cowards.

Deku went over to Aizawa and the other teachers, and gave a similar spiel about how he appreciated them caring for him or some crap, complete with another bow.  His slow, fluid moves were a far cry from the irritating twitchiness Katsuki had seen all his life.  He couldn’t shake the feeling something was off.

“I should go…” Deku said.

“Wait for me by the stairs,” Aizawa instructed.  Eri looked ready to cry too.  If even a little brat like her could pick up on Deku’s fatalism, no way was it getting past Eraserhead.  Especially since he would have made Deku help comfort her otherwise.  “I don’t want you going anywhere by yourself.”  Midnight got up to go with him.

“…  Right,” he relented.

Not once did Katsuki blink as they slowly crossed the room.  Neither did Deku.  He was missing something.

“How are you holding up, Bud?” Midnight asked him quietly.

For a split moment, he locked eyes with Katsuki.  “I don’t know if I am, Ma’am.”

“Was that a joke?  From you?”  She bumped his shoulder and he giggled sickeningly.  “Oh, and don’t call me Ma’am.  That makes me feel old,” she responded, obliviously.

Katsuki stomped around the unpacking extras.  The bastard clearly lied through his teeth and no one called him out.  He gritted his jaw a little tighter with each step.  Nobody dared to stop him.  He yanked the door to the stairwell open before it closed behind the two.

“Bakugou?” Midnight asked, surprised.  “You should be with the others.”

His eyes didn’t leave Deku’s.  The nerd stared back, unblinking.  The shelter door shut.  And he deliberately shut his eyes.

“Miss Midnight?  May I please speak to Kacchan alone?”  He looked up at her to ask.  Even did that little puppy dog head-tilt.  She crossed her arms, concerned.  “Just until Mr. Aizawa is ready?”

The woman bit her lip, and sighed.  “Okay, bud,” she whispered.  Midnight lifted her hand to pat him on the shoulder or head or something someone would do to reassure a little kid, but she pulled back the instant he visibly stiffened.  She bit her lip and turned around.  Her heels clanked loudly up the steps. 

Deku watched her go.  Once the door at the top shut, he turned back to Katsuki.  Slowly.  “Please.  Don’t get involved, Kacchan,” he commanded.

“And why the fuck not!?” he yelled.

“You have no idea what we’re up against,” he hissed through gritted teeth.

“Then tell me.  What the fuck is going on?  What do you know that I don’t!?”  It had been awhile since Deku flinched when Katsuki raised his voice.  He hadn’t noticed until it was suddenly back again.  That freak out there must have done a real number on him.

“Why…”  He shook his head and spun towards upstairs.  “Why do you even care?”  He pulled his hands close to his chest like the fucking rat he was.

“I don’t!  I don’t care about you, damn nerd!” he spat.  “I need a real rival to prove how strong I am at number one, and the rest of those extras are barely jobbers.  You’re the only one that comes close to close!”  Deku ignored him, and limped up the stairs.  “And if you die, One for All goes with you!”  Deku stopped walking.  Katsuki’s eyes focused on the back of his neck, looking for the surgery scar.  His shirt must have blocked it.  “You want all that time All Might and the other holders spent to go to waste over some insectoid creep, huh!?”

The nerd just stood there, completely motionless.  You’re gonna make me fucking say it, aren’t you?  Katsuki punched a wall.  Deku flinched at his words but not cracks in the concrete.

“You came…  For me…” Katsuki panted.  The bile was back.  When he looked up, Deku was looking back.  He swallowed.  “At Kamino.  You and the other extras.  You knew I, I couldn’t get out alone…  So you came for me,” he forced the words.  All the guilt and bitterness had to be buried just like every other time it came up.  The damn nerd hadn’t moved.  Then he scowled, and spoke up for the first time since it happened.  “And the sludge villain.”  The words felt foreign in his mouth, like dirt after a rough fall.  “You came for me then too.”  Something in Deku’s face changed, but it was gone before Katsuki could identify it.  “So what makes you think you can go in alone when I couldn’t, huh!?  You think you’re better than me!?”

“…  This isn’t your fight.”

Katsuki had known Deku all his life.  Too long maybe.  And in all that time, the nerd had always been an open book.  His face always showed what he was feeling.  Could never hide it.  Dad used to say he wore his heart on his sleeve.  Katsuki always thought it was annoying.  But in that single moment, he missed all the exaggerated emotion.  Because for the first time ever, Katsuki had no idea what feeling Izuku’s blank fucking face was conveying.  Something was very wrong.

“Why…  Why is that Butterfly bastard after you?” he asked in genuine terror.  Both for not getting an answer, and what that answer could be.  What he got was worse.  Deku stared at him a beat, then blew air out of his nose in a half-laugh.  Katsuki cringed.  Words raced through his head but his mouth wouldn’t operate.  Don’t fucking laugh.  What the fuck is going on?  Izuku never laughs! 

It was a forced smile.  ‘Forced’ was the only way to describe it, yet it felt like it wasn’t enough.  Katsuki pictured syringes behind his face injecting liquified artificial emotion into face muscles.  Cheeks too high and eyes too squinted.  His glassy eyes looked through him, rather than at him.  Head cocked slightly to the side but not quite right.  Too pale.  Too many teeth.  Something old and primal and buried under reason at the back of Katsuki’s brain screamed to run.  But he couldn’t move.  He couldn’t breathe.

Who the fuck are you!?

“…  It was nice to see you again, K-acchan.” 

Chapter Text

Izuku knew.  He didn’t know how, but he did.  Before any alarm sounded, before any movement in the window, before any warning from the guards, he knew.  Butterfly was coming.

Alone he sat in a small room.  He wasn’t actually alone; two masked officers kept watch over him.  But they didn’t talk, so he felt alone.  Back to the room, it overlooked the tunnel lobby from a few small one-way windows disguised as unlit wall lights.  To maintain that effect, the room itself had no lights of its own.  So Izuku sat curled up against the window alone with two silent strangers waiting for a super-powered psychotic alternate version of himself in almost total darkness. 

The entrance to the room was on the opposite side, and was one of the only rooms in the complex with a door.  Hours ago, the teachers locked him inside.  Cementoss also covered the door in a layer of cement and redirected the tunnels so they wouldn’t even touch the hall outside.  But again, he had no idea how long it had been since, and dread made Izuku start to doubt his memories.

On the one hand, everyone made it clear they planned to do everything possible to keep him out of the fight.  But nothing about that was fair.  This wasn’t their fight.  If people were going to risk their lives to protect him, the least Izuku could do was stand beside them.  However, he pictured the scale and destruction of All for One at Kamino, and despaired at the thought of facing something like that as he was now.  Worse still, this all-powerful monster wore his face.

And that monster was coming.

One of the guard’s pager beeped.  “Go time,” he said evenly.  He didn’t look at him.

Izuku swallowed, and glued himself to the window.  He couldn’t tell if the faint vibrations he felt in the floor were from something big moving or his own shivers.  Below, the officers and heroes got into position.  Not a defensive one.  Half went into the tunnels, half stayed in the lobby.  They laid down under blankets and sleeping bags to pretend to sleep.  The shelter’s fake purpose was as a new high-security bunker for people at risk of becoming Butterfly’s target.  Including Mom.

Bang.

His lungs constricted. 

Bang.

This is it…

Bang.

Silence.  Everyone in the complex held their breath.

Movement came at the edge of the massive door.  Long fingers squeezed through a crack only just wider than airtight.  One after the other poked through until there were four.  Another small tremor shook the window.  Izuku pulled back.  The skin-crawling creak of twisting metal echoed through the bowls of the tunnel up into his teeth.  Butterfly folded the top corner of the gargantuan door open like the lid of a tin can.  Red eyes blazed as wings spilled from the darkness.

Is that super-strength, or an extension of his folding quirk? Izuku wondered.  Sweat dripped behind his ear.  The air thinned.  Don’t panic.  Focus!  Why?  I’m not supposed to get in the fight.  I wish I had a communicator or something.  They need my help…  But do I really believe that?  He tightened his gloves.  I don’t mean to lack faith in the others, but something tells me I’m not walking away from this without a fight!

Butterfly stiffly hobbled out of the hole.  His walking wings suspended him high above the ground like a giant malformed spider.  He carefully stepped around the guards pretending to sleep, head and torso bent down and around to examine them as he passed. 

He’s looking for someone, Izuku reasoned.  What am I saying?  Of course he is!

“Izuku?”  Both froze.  A woman’s voice called from the far corner of the giant room.  She stood beside a lantern, partially obstructed by harsh shadows.  Butterfly lifted himself higher to see better.  “Izuku?”  Izuku shuddered.  They knew that voice so well it may as well have been encoded in their DNA.  Maybe it was.

“Mo-om?” Butterfly coughed.  He moved towards her, still cautious but quicker now.  But at the edge of the light, he stopped.  His form dwarfed hers.

“Izuku, is that you?”  She reached out a hand.  Her other rested in a sling.

Butterfly keened.  “Y-ou -ecognize m-e!”

“I’m your mother, of course I do,” she soothed.  He backed away from her hand like an injured animal.  “Oh baby, what happened to you?”

Izuku wanted to puke.  This is just cruel.

In exchange for a lighter sentence, Himiko Toga agreed to impersonate Izuku’s mother.  Though it may have also been desire for revenge.  The sling held a fake arm to hide what she lost.  What he took.  Below, she tried to coax Butterfly further into the light.  The guards were arranged to face the spot so to corner Butterfly with quirks and capture equipment.  Toga just had to get his back to them and his guard down.  That, or get him to stand down entirely.  And her impression was a little too good for Izuku’s liking. 

I should have been vaguer with the tips…  He tried to push from his mind the reality that she had to drink Mom’s blood for this to work.  Logic dictated the police wouldn’t have let her anywhere near Mom for real.  That didn’t quell the sick taste in Izuku’s mouth.  Worse still, a desperate ache searched for comfort in the fake voice.  He hadn’t heard the real one in so, so long.  I miss Mom so, so much.  I hope she’s okay…

“Why are you here?  Why are you doing this?” Toga asked with Mom’s face and voice.

“Wa-ann go -ome,” he mumbled, taking a step closer. 

Me too…  Izuku shook his head, and focused.  Branching silhouettes above Butterfly’s head moved with the words.  He has antlers again…  His fingers moved as if writing on their own.  Looks like he has more feathers than before too.  A new healing quirk to replace them?  Maybe some new feather quirk on top of it.  Nothing else to visually indicate more quirks.  Probably non-mutation emitters.  And since he most likely went back to his home dimension to get them, we’ll have no idea what we’re up against until he uses them…

“And we can do that.  All you have to do is stop fighting.”  She stepped back.  The gesture invited him to close the space between.  But he didn’t.

“So-eone -lse li-es -ere,” he countered.

His speech sounds like it’s getting worse.

“You can both live here.”  She walked back to Butterfly.  “I can love the two of you.  We can all be a happy family.”  Some of her own voice slipped in at the end.  His feathers twitched in a wave.

If I noticed, so did he.  Izuku’s ears throbbed with his heartbeat.  Shouldn’t the guards have made a move by now?

Butterfly blocked Toga from his view.  “D-on -anna fi-ght,” he gargled.  He slowly drooped his head.

“And you don’t have to, Baby,” she whispered comfortingly.  “Not anymore.”  Suddenly, Toga pulled out a concealed blade and trust it up through Butterfly’s face.  And it did go right through.  Without any resistance, her arm passed through to above his head so fast she stumbled back.  “Eh?”

Izuku’s soul dropped to the center of the Earth.  “It’s an-”

“Illusion.”

“Erasersir?” Eri demanded quietly.

“Hmm?” Shouta hummed.  Just when he thought she was about to fall asleep.  Rubbing her back usually knocked her right out.  Granted, with everything going on, it was impossible not to be on edge.  His own eyes drooped.

“I think something’s wrong with Deku…”

“I’m sure he’s just stressed.”  He closed his eyes and leaned back against the wall.  Eri grabbed his hand.

“No!” she whisper-shouted.  “You’re not listening!  Something’s wrong!”

“Wrong ho-”

Someone screamed.  Fog Shouta hadn’t realized was there drained from his mind.  The chaotic noise of students rushed back into focus.  He shot to his feet and ran to the bunker entrance.  Some of them were already gathered.  He forced through them.

“What ha-”  Bakugou laid at the bottom of the stairwell.  Seizing violently.  Kirishima and Hagakure attempted to get closer.  “Nobody touch him!”  They backed off.  “Go call Recovery Girl!” he barked at no one in particular.  Meanwhile, he dropped down and tore free his capture weapon.  It would be a decent enough pillow between Bakugou’s head and the concrete floor.  Blood pooled in between.  Someone pushed him down the stairs. 

Mic pushed through.  “Holy shit what happened?”

“Where’s Midnight!?”

“She, she went with Midoriya I-I think!”

“You think!?”

“I don’t know, man!  I feel like I just snapped out of a hangover!” he defended.

Yeah, that about sums it up.  Bakugou’s convulsions started to die down.  His students stood around panicked, arguing about what to do.  We need to move up the unit on how to react in a medical emergency.  Uraraka at least had the good sense to call someone on the shelter’s emergency phone.  Far behind her, Eri wept.  That sound carried above all others.  Shouta pushed past the urge to run to her.  He stepped over Bakugou up the stairs.

“Watch him!” he ordered.  “Kayama!”  She wasn’t far.  Midnight lay crumpled on the floor under a bloodstained dent in the wall mere feet from the stairwell.  No time for emotion.  Shouta checked his colleague’s pulse.  The relief in finding it was marred by the sight of her severely broken nose and arm.  There was also a shallow slash above her hip, right next to the secret pocket in her corset where she kept her keycard to the maze.

Something grabbed his shirt.  Shouta couldn’t remember the last time he’s been jump scared.  Bakugou managed to drag himself up the stairs into the hall, some of his friends and Mic rushing after him.  The boy was still delirious, and struggling to breath.  Nonetheless, he yanked Shouta closer, and hacked words out of his lungs.

“Th-at.  Wasn’t Deku.”

Someone could have heard a pin drop on the other side of the school.  Every face he could see turned to Bakugou, then Shouta.  More students trickled up the stairs.  In the distant background, Eri whimpered again.

No time for emotion.  Make a decision.

“Suit up!”

In one fluid motion, Butterfly wing-smashed both guards into the wall, then pushed off it to attack Izuku.  He nimbly pinballed to the ceiling out of the way.  But massive wings blocked his way to the door.  Fire came next.  It flooded the room, consuming Izuku’s already limited line of sight.  The guards screamed under the torrent.  But it didn’t touch Izuku himself.

He cornered me, but didn’t finish me off, he realized.  Is this an illusion too?  But why?  The heat dried his eyes.  That was real enough.  His whole body cackled with energy, spring-loaded to strike.  Butterfly’s black silhouette appeared in the flames.  Crowned with antlers, he held his head higher than any previous encounter.  He reached out his hand.  Dread built.  The screaming stopped.

Izuku fired an air-blast past Butterfly, and lept through the brief gap in fire.  And he ran.  Relief didn’t come with the cold air.  His heart bobbed in and out of his mouth.  Screeching and clacking of claws on concrete pursued him.  No amount of adrenalin could mask how terrified he was. 

I can’t fight him by myself!  I’m not strong enough!  He skidded around a corner.  The lobby wasn’t far.  I was wrong.  I was so, so wrong!  He used an illusion to get in.  Distant chittering joined the echoes.  He must have pretended to be me to get the guards to lead him to the saferoom.  Izuku ran through a hole in the wall with melted edges into the hall around the lobby.  He’s been here a minute and already killed two people!  Maybe more on the way.  And I’m just running away!  A shriek chased him ahead of its origin.  But I still can’t face him alone!  Where are the heroes!?

Something flew into his face.  Izuku grabbed and threw it off with a yelp.  He slowed momentarily to examine it.

A…  A cockroach?

Movement drew his eye.  More of them skittered over the walls.  Dozens.  Hundreds.  The hair on his neck raised.  Then he realized another one was crawling there.  Izuku yanked it off and sprinted for the entrance. 

Roaches swarmed the lobby.  Their buzzing blocked out the guards’ disgusted cries.  They all ran around trying to fight off the onslaught with quirks, or writhed around already overwhelmed.  There wasn’t an inch of concrete uncovered. 

Izuku paused to think of a way to help, but Butterfly came from around the corner. 

“YOU!”

Only one way out.  Izuku inhaled, and took it.

Bugs pelted him from every side.  He covered his eyes with only the slightest gap to see.  Even with his mask, he locked his mouth shut.  With his free hand he batted the swarm away from his bare neck.  Some managed to get painful bites in.  Roaches popped under each step like running on bubble wrap.  Izuku jumped over a pile the size and shape of a body.

This is Anivoice!  He had this quirk before, I should have seen this coming! he beat himself up. 

“GET HIM!” Butterfly ordered.  The buzzing ceased for a single second, then kicked up even louder.

Izuku uncovered his face to launch another wind blast.  Then he poured another percent of One for All into his legs.  At the edge of his vision, roaches poured from under someone’s clothes.  He was faster than the bugs, but still had to push through them to reach the other tunnels.  Dread tugged him back.  Metal feathers flew by his head and stuck into the wall.  Butterfly galloped after him.  Roaches clacked and crunched on top of one another into a single giant wave. 

Suddenly, two red lasers ripped through the wave, cutting it in half.  A man with glowing, smoking nostrils and a frayed mask stood tall, before blasting the swarm again.  A woman joined with tiny projectiles from her nails.  Butterfly hissed, and tried to run for her, but a big waxy mass slammed into his frail shoulder.  The guard shot the capture gun again, this time hitting Butterfly’s hip.  More joined in.

“Go kid!” one of them yelled at a gawking Izuku.  A roach flew into his mouth, and he spat.

“There’re more heroes in the tunnels!” someone else yelled.

“R-right!”  He fled.  He didn’t want to.  Well, he did, but he also wanted to help. 

‘You can help everyone by making sure this comes to an end,’ Aizawa said before.  Oh no…  Where’s Aizawa-sensei!? 

Noise and light flashed at Izuku’s back.  The light got brighter, then went out.  And the noise stopped.  Izuku kept going.

The tunnels went wild right out of the divider hallway.  Izuku ran a random path no matter what.  The point of him walking the maze earlier wasn’t to memorize it, since it changed anyway, but to layer his path as seen by Pathfinder’s quirk so Butterfly couldn’t find him.  That didn’t cover that Izuku’s iron soles clanked so loud someone could probably still hear them outside.  The instant he stopped to take a breath, he heard Butterfly coming. 

Deeper in, he reached a series of hallways that crisscrossed one another in dozens of consecutive intersections.  Izuku ducked into one, passing several armed heroes in waiting.  One spat onto the walls behind him, forming a thin sticky web.  He slowed down, and tried to get a handle on his breathing.  Another hero waved him to move deeper.  Izuku did so.  He moved slow and light to keep quiet.  At least a day of nonstop walking and an extended sprint for his life cause his legs to throb.  He leaned against a wall two intersections down, panting.

Butterfly barreled in at full speed.  Izuku tense back up in an instant.  He struggled to place his foe’s position with sound alone.  Peeking wasn’t worth the risk.  But he seemed to hesitate.  Izuku had weaved in and out of these halls so many times he lost count.  With the path quirk, Butterfly would have been looking at green lines overlapped into mist.  With a frustrated hiss, he changed course.  Right into the web.

The heroes attacked at once.  The familiar pops of the capture gun joined jeers and the cacophony of unknown quirks. 

I should help…  I have to help!  He took two steps before he regretted it. 

Three guards hit the wall hard.  One with a hole in her stomach slammed into the others.  They struggled to get up, but a swarm of something small hit their faces with a splat like a dropped wet rag. 

Izuku couldn’t move.  Those aren’t roaches…  He couldn’t see Butterfly.

The two clawed at the unknown things blocking their faces, before they started to pull away.  They flew off like bandages, taking large patches of skin with them.  Their agony echoed.

Izuku gagged and retreated behind the corner.  But he stumbled.  His foot hit the wall with a loud clunk.  And Butterfly heard.

The next moments were silent.  Izuku stood, back pressed to the wall and hands over his mouth, and racked his brain for a plan.

Butterfly’s wing creaked as he stepped forward.

He can’t see me with Pathfinder’s quirk, so he doesn’t immediately know where I am, Izuku considered.  He’s two halls down, and the nearest exit tunnel is at least four.  He took slow, open-mouthed breaths under his mask.  Making another break for it is a long shot.  Too long.  Another creak.  I could sneak round.  Use the halls to hide and go back the way I came.  A rotten smell approached.  No!  People are dead because he’s free!  I have to fight back!  Izuku slinked across to the opposite corner, right before a wing slammed into where he used to be.  Butterfly followed, then circled the other corner.  Izuku remembered hiding behind his bedroom door the first time he saw Butterfly.  He had me cornered and powerless with Aizawa’s quirk.  If he does that again, I’m done for. 

“WHERE A-ARE YOU!?” Butterfly demanded, but devolved into a coughing fit.  Izuku felt the rumble of his words in his chest nonetheless. 

Even his voice quirk is waning.  Is it from time or is it something to do with the new quirks he picked up?

Butterfly shambled closer. 

Is it just physical quirk strain, or does he have so many he can’t control them as well?

He breathed stiffly a few feet away.  Izuku smelled his rank, infested form. 

Something smacked his arm with a familiar splat.  A thin greyish-white strip of…  Something, tightened below his wrist.  Black veins dug into the fabric. 

Is…  is that skin!?  Izuku desperately tried to pry it off.  As quick as it came, it snapped away, taking with it a chuck of his costume and the top layer of his own skin.  Butterfly jumped out to catch it.  But Izuku already bolted. 

Rushing air burned his raw skin.  That at least meant it didn’t bleed.  He ducked in and out of halls.  Mobility was his only advantage.  The width and height of the halls were designed to limit Butterfly and the giant wings he walked on while still giving Izuku and the other heroes room to fight.  Bones snapped as Butterfly made himself more artificial joints to fit the narrow chase scene.

His body is falling apart.  It must be constantly repairing itself, Izuku considered, leaping out of sight for only a moment.  He used One for All in bursts, anticipating Butterfly’s erasure.  I didn’t see anything about direct control of his regeneration in his notes, so it must also affect the damage he does to himself on purpose. 

Butterfly rolled into Izuku’s path, but he dodged down another hall.  The other pursued him down the parallel to his right.  They saw one another in flashes through the connecting openings.  Red eyes and all.  Dread hit like a punch to the chest each time.

That quirk must be working overtime if it’s split evenly across his whole body, which means it might be slow.  Izuku stopped short behind the next wall.  He heard Butterfly skid and scratch at the floor a hall over.  Maybe, if I can manage a hard-enough blow to his eyes, I might be able to incapacitate erasure for a while, and have a fighting chance! 

Butterfly didn’t bother with a slow search this time.  He loped at full speed to where Izuku waited behind yet another corner.  He listened close.  Didn’t move.  Any noise could give him away.  Heavy huffs grew closer.  Izuku wound up his leg.  Butterfly screeched.  It made Izuku’s skin crawl, but it gave away his enemy’s exact location.  With one hundred percent, Izuku launched a kick straight into Butterfly’s face.  They collided at full speed.  Wind kicked up dust and feathers.  The closest concrete cracked with the impact. 

My leg isn’t broken! Izuku beamed.  But his foot remained in the air, caught on something he couldn’t see, a whole foot from Butterfly’s untouched face.

“Wha-”

The force holding his leg twisted to the side, forcing him closer.  Butterfly’s face appeared, sideways, shape distorted, and mixed with the colors of the floor and wall behind it.  His large black antlers held Izuku’s foot.

“Another illusion…” he breathed.

Butterfly smiled cruelly.  The antlers liquified and wrapped around Izuku’s leg.  The villain reared up and slammed his catch into the ceiling.  Then the wall, then the floor.  Each hit knocked the wind out of him.  Before he could even cough, Butterfly untangled himself and sprawled his many libs to hold down each of Izuku’s. 

He looked different than before.  His torso and human limbs filled out to no longer look like a corpse.  Some color returned to his skin.  Even the feathers of his largest wings were clean and no longer missing patches.

“You…  You healed yourself…” Izuku wheezed.  “Or is that an illusion too?”  Butterfly narrowed his glowing red eyes.  He flicked his wrist downwards.  A psychic force slammed into Izuku’s face.  Nose now a crater, he had to breathe through his mouth.  Like Butterfly had before.  The monster in question hovered over him, his full weight on his wings on Izuku.  Struggling didn’t phase him.  He paused a moment, as if waiting for Izuku to say something.  Last words?  Like hell!  He pushed back again, but the results were the same.  No!  No no no!  This isn’t fair!  He tried to spit in Butterfly’s face, but he was too high up.  I can’t let you take my life!  I can’t let you trick Mom and All Might!  “H-help!  Someone help!” Izuku screamed with all the power his exhausted lungs could muster.  “I’m over here.  Help!  Someone!  Anyone, please!”  Tears dripped from each eye simultaneously.  “Help me…”  Barely a cry.

“N-o -ne’s c-m-ng.”

“You’re not me,” he said defiantly, blood and tears flowing.  “And you never will be.”

Butterfly’s whole body tensed.  He raised his hand towards Izuku’s face.  The illusion flickered and mixed with its surroundings again.  An impossibly thin hand appeared in the pixilated mist.  Starting at the fingers, pale skin came loose and floated off in ribbons all down his arm.  Drops of dark blood swam in the air with them.  Rotted-looking muscle stripped down, every tendon a tentacle, to where the peeling skin stopped at the elbow.  All that remained of the hand was bones.  Pure black.

“S-someone help!”

Butterfly grabbed his face.

Shouta hadn’t earnestly wished for a different quick since he was a child.  Fifteen years of self-assuredness circled the drain as he watched teenagers attack the rubble from the sidelines. 

“Keep your ears open!  When I say back off, you back off!” he reminded.

“Yes Sensei!” they all called back.

The tunnel complex had one entrance.  Butterfly collapsed the whole thing.  No.  Collapsed implied random destruction.  What Butterfly did was twist up the narrow passage and weld all the broken bits of concrete and metal together.  Otherwise Shouta would have helped.

“Clear!” Yaoyorozu shouted. 

The rest, Uraraka, Todoroki, Mina, Aoyama, Kaminari, Shoji, Tsuyu, Jirou, and Sato, moved to a safe distance before she ignited a pile of dynamite.  The blast kicked debris up three stories.  Todoroki shielded the group with a quick ice wall.  The dust cleared, but the already small dent in the ground was only a foot deeper.  Maybe.  Without so much as a groan, they got back to work.  Mina and Aoyama burned holes in the congealed mass, Then Jirou, Todoroki, and Kaminari broke it up into chunks.  Uraraka came it to float the debris, which the rest grabbed and moved out of the way.  Rinse and repeat.

Shouta taught them well.  How he wished he had the presence of mind to be proud.  But his mind split with worry between the rest of the class back in the bunker protecting Bakugou and Eri, and Midoriya facing a cosmic horror beneath them.  He didn’t know how deep beneath.  The walk down the stairs took longer than the dorm shelter.  Minutes dragged on for hours, and they’d barely dug past their shoulders.  There was so much time and distance for things to go wrong.  And he was one of the only people who could disable Butterfly.

“Remind me why we can go get Cementoss for this?” Kaminari complained.  He started to wobble on his feet.  “He, he could let us in and trap the villain inside!”

“Because if his quirk is stolen or he’s killed, and there are more sealed tunnels like this, they will be trapped for much longer!” Shouta yelled back.  Every moral fiber he had said it was indefensible to be giving orders in an active situation while not doing anything himself.  He joined the team taking debris aside.  “We don’t have time to go looking for him besides!” 

“And what if Butterfly escapes out of the hole we’re digging?” Jirou asked.

“The priority now is bringing reinforcements!” he dismissed.

“Release!” Uraraka warned.  The hunk of concrete Shouta carried regained its weight, making him stagger.  It scrapped his palm as he tossed it into the pile.  His class meanwhile seemed unhindered.  This might be the fight to break him.  His faith in the plan and himself started to fragment the moment he realized he was the least helpful person in that field.  Despair filled in the cracks.

I haven’t done disaster rescue in so long… he pondered.  Never done one where the disaster was alive.  Beside him, the kids started to strain.  Not physically, but Shouta new oncoming doubt when he saw it.  Determined faces softening, attacks growing less passionate.  It’s one thing to simulate a rescue with a time limit, it’s another to try it for real.  And to do it to save someone they knew? 

“What if we’re already too late?” Tsuyu mumbled beside him as they waited for the next round of debris.

Sometimes, Shouta hated being blunt.  He longed for the fortitude to lie and declare no one was getting hurt that night.  Give a great big rousing speech to inspire everyone to go beyond.  But that wasn’t who he was.

“Keep going,” he said instead.  “No matter what.”

Five cycles went by until something changed.

Aoyama stopped his laser, and gagged.  Yaoyorozu patted his back while the others kept up the barrage.

“Need a breather?” Shouta asked.  He placed his had on the kid’s shoulder.  But Aoyama regained his composure and stood up straight.

“Monsieur Aizawa, what was the angle of the entrance?”

“Kid?”

“Sil vous plait?”  His face wore the same dopy expression as always, but something in his eyes burned.  Shouta pointed reluctantly.  Aoyama nodded.  “Anyone care to offer some support?”  He beckoned Sato and Shoji over, then put his hands behind his head.  They got the idea faster than Shouta.

Is this a special team move they’ve been planning?

The bigger boys planted themselves firmly behind Aoyama, holding his shoulders and back.  Todoroki added an ice wall for them to back into.  The others backed up.

“Prepare yourselves!”  And Aoyama unleashed the biggest laser blast Shouta had ever seen from him.  As soon as it ended, he blasted another one.  Sato and Shoji kept him from launching himself off his feet.  Their heels dug into the earth.  Again and again, bright light bore into the hardened ground.  It was almost blinding.

After so many bursts, Aoyama collapsed to his knees and threw up.  Shouta knelt to tend to him immediately, but the boy pushed him away.  Aoyama breathed hard, clutching his stomach painfully, puke dripping from his lips.  His classmates looked on in stunned silence.  In fifteen seconds, he’d managed to drill deeper than all of them had for fifteen minutes.  And he looked ready to pass out.

“That’s enough, ki-”

“No!” he breathed.  He wiped the dribble from his mouth, looked at it, then at the hole that was his handywork.  The edges had melted into sparkling glass.  It would look dazzling come morning sun.  But there was no time for that now.  He stumbled to his feet, tossed his shades aside, and resumed his previous position. 

Shoji and Sato grabbed on, the latter smirking.

Aoyama blasted the ground again.

“You’re one crazy guy,” he said.

“Woo!”

“Go man!”

“Aoyama, you are officially the coolest person ever!” Mina cheered with the others. 

Shouta stepped back.

Aoyama himself morphed into a completely different person.  Gone were the sappy eyes and the smile like he knew an incriminating secret.  Instead, his eyes burned wild and he snarled with manic determination.  It reminded Shouta of another student of his.  He really was proud of them all.

Izuku cried out.  Butterfly’s skeletal hand burned numb against his skin.  An attack struck him the next moment.  Electric cold shot down his spine, causing him to spasm wildly.  Then, flashes.

Heroes patrolled UA.

A deer-headed man limped away.

Midnight tossed head-first against a wall.

No!  Stop!