Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

        1: The Affected

       Losing isn’t horrible, Tenya decides. It isn’t about losing, because the fight was fair, and he’d given it his all. After all, Todoroki was known to be the strongest of his classmates.  But even if he decides the losing isn’t horrible, he can’t rid himself of the urge to cry. Something lays heavily on his shoulders, and he doesn’t like thinking he’s a failure, but he also can’t quite help it.

       Everything is a mess, he concludes.

       The buzzing of his phone snaps him out of it for a moment, though it all crushes in on him even more when he sees the caller ID.

       “Ah… Tensei…” The words burn, but he’s glad that his brother thought to call at all, “Aren’t you at work? It’s terrible for a hero to take time off like this…”

       “Tenya? I heard you nearly beat Todoroki-san! That’s incredible!”

       Tenya’s brain short circuits.

       “H…how did you hear that? It was only finished a few minutes ago!”

       “I had to drag a kid out of an intersection before a car got him and he recognized me, I guess. Once I made sure he was alright, he mentioned that he was caught up in your match. Are you alright?”

       Tenya’s chest tightens till he can barely breathe.

       “I… I know it was a fair match, and that Todoroki is strong but… Tensei, I…!”

       “Tenya. No matter what, you did incredible making it that far. You’re only going to get better. Feeling sad isn’t wrong, it’s human. Are you okay?”

       Tenya breaks down after that, and all record of Ingenium’s traffic stop in Hosu is forgotten by the Iidas.

       Katsuki hears about the beach getting cleaned up in passing from his mother. At first, he ignores it. Some beach getting cleaned up means absolutely nothing in the face of Katsuki’s plan. Then his dad mentions something about how public service projects should get recognized more, and that actually catches his ear.

       He’d considered everything about becoming the best hero… right? People could think he had a shitty personality, but it didn’t mean anything in the face of his potential and his work ethic.

       But this had gotten his mother’s attention. That took an act from the gods.

       In hindsight, it’s a great plan. Cleaning a beach fixes a public spot and restores the area. Everyone in the neighborhood is talking about it because now there’s a beach within walking distance. Business is steadily growing from the newfound popularity, and morale is higher than Katsuki has seen it in a while.

       He asks around. When no one knows who cleaned it up, or why, he goes to the internet. After the fifth article citing it as one of three different anonymous public service projects happening around their neighborhood, Katsuki can’t help but wonder who’s doing it. Even if the hero industry is about being heroic most of them do things like this as a publicity stunt.

       A pin goes in his phone on each of the three locations. He takes a couple of people from class 1-A down to the beach to shut up his mother and prove he’s not totally devoid of personality.

       The beach doesn’t suck.

       Eijirō is just exiting the third athletics shop when someone snags him by the elbow and drags him to the railing of the mall. He barely catches green eyes and dark, curly hair before the stranger points to someone in a black hoodie down on the first floor.

       “Sorry to drag you away, but I know who you are, and I need you to tell me if you recognize that person.” The stranger tells him in a hushed tone, glancing over their shoulders suspiciously. Eijirō frowns and gets ready to harden up his right side, keeping his eyes on the black hoodie. After a few seconds, he sees a scraggly hand reach up and scratch at something beneath the hood, revealing…

       Long, tangled blue hair.

       The stranger is shaking him out of a haze a few moments later, looking him with concern clear on his face.

       “Are you okay? Do you know them?”

       “I… I think… maybe it’s a villain? I couldn’t see much. Who are you? What-”

       “Look, there’s no time.” He’s dragging Eijirō from the railing, muttering a million kilometers per second. “Aren’t you here with your class? You need to get out of here, call the police. I’ll track him, here’s my number just in case, ok?”

       Eijirō gapes as the stranger hops the railing and lands in the main walkway like its nothing, power walking after the black hoodie. Before he can stand there paralyzed, the stranger’s words are replaying through his head and he’s moving, whipping out his phone and clutching a scrap of paper in one hand.

       No one questions his emergency message to meet up outside, and within fifteen minutes everyone who came to the mall is standing there with him. Uraraka takes one look at the way his hand is shaking and turns deadly serious, showing off a vibe that Eijirō really wishes he could imitate.

       “What happened?”

       “I think… I think Shigaraki followed us here.” Everyone freezes, staring at him as he continues, “A guy pulled me aside on the second floor and pointed him out. I called the cops and they’re on the way, but that guy, he took off after Shigaraki before I could do anything… I froze up.”

       “Someone went after Shigaraki?” Jirō is the only one who’s voice actually cuts through the group’s panic. “Wait, did he know who it was?! He could get killed!”

       “I…” Eijirō replays the scene in his mind and pales. “I didn’t tell him who it was, just that it was a villain…”

       “Shit.”

       Before they can do anything about it, the police are there. He retells the story and hands them the crumpled piece of paper, to which they’re all told to leave immediately and get home safely.

       Eijirō spends the entire train ride imagining a rotting corpse left in an alley, or somewhere inventive. He can’t help but feel guilty for it.

       Aizawa calls him aside the next day, and he can’t help but feel like it’s the end of his career at U.A. When he retells the story, trying hard to remember something about the stranger besides ‘green eyes’, Aizawa remains lifeless the entire time.

       “You did the right thing, Kirishima. The boy who went after Shigaraki is at fault for being reckless, but they’ve already scolded him. Everything is being taken care of. Good job keeping a level head.” Aizawa pats him on the shoulder and sends him back to class.

       The face is already fading from his memory, though he can’t forget someone throwing themselves off the second story of a mall just to go chasing a possible villain. Whatever happened, he can’t help but feel like they got lucky. If what Aizawa said is true, then the kid made it out safe.

       Maybe they caught a break for once.

       Meetings with Tsukauchi will probably always be under horrible circumstances. Their raid on the League’s headquarters failed miserably, and Toshinori really, really just wants to punch something, but instead they’re going out for coffee. Neither of them mentions the time, because coffee is just a really horrible excuse to take a little time away from work.

       “I can’t deny… I’m a little glad. If they’d actually been there, and we’d fought them tonight… We were really understaffed.” Tsukauchi groans.

       “All we had was the word of a random high school student. I’m shocked we had as much support as we did.” Toshinori sighs. “What are kids thinking these days, charging into villain attacks and chasing after villains like this…”

       “Oh, I almost forgot.” Tsukauchi flips a folder onto the table, smirking at him over the rim of his cup, “I promised you the file on the kid, right? Since this is becoming a thing for you.”

       “I’d just like to thank him for… his bravery…” Toshinori has barely opened the file when he feels his wound begin to twitch and a rapid headache coming on.

       “Toshinori? Hey, are you okay?” Tsukauchi is already up out of his seat before Toshinori can wave him off, coughing and trying to hold off the blood. He really doesn’t want to make a scene.

       “Sorry, sorry… but, I probably shouldn’t be surprised. This boy, it’s the same person as the slime villain incident I told you about.” He slides the file back, unable to scrub the pictures and memories from his brain.

       “Are you joking…? Well, I guess it makes sense, you’d have horrible luck if you found two kids so similar to you. I’m surprised though. Didn’t you say the kid was pretty scrawny?” Tsukauchi cocks an eyebrow at the file and sets it back down.

       “Yeah. Barely bigger than a twig, really.”

       “I mean… it’s not like I got to see, but he really must have changed a lot since that little incident. He tracked Shigaraki pretty far. Everyone felt pretty bad for telling him off about it.” Tsukauchi sighs.

       “Ah… of course they did…” Toshinori can’t help flinching.

       “Something the matter?”

       “It was like that during the first incident too. The heroes, they made the right call but Bakugo needed help. Midoriya rushed in, and afterward he had several heroes telling him how reckless he was. I… Feel a bit bad for it. He’s been essential in two different villain incidents, and both times he’s been reprimanded for it. I know he needs to be, that we need to tell him to leave things alone, but… still.”

       “Still,” Tsukauchi chuckles. “you two really are alike, aren’t you?”

       Toshinori isn’t sure what to say to that. Midoriya can’t be like him. Sure, the kid had a dream, and he’d thrown himself into danger on instinct, but… No. Finding the boy at this point is a lost cause.

       “…Don’t even think about it, Toshinori.” Tsukauchi growls.

       “I’m not!” A bit of blood spilled over his lip at that. Toshinori hates that it leaks when he’s flustered. “Really, I doubt we’re very much alike at all.”

       “Good. I hope so. He’s already got two incidents too many on file for my liking.”

       “I guess so, hmm… Everyone would say the same thing, I suppose.”

       Summer goes by without a hitch, surprisingly.

       Most of class 1-A ends up failing the exam for provisional licenses, despite how many of them get close. Aizawa forbids them from going back for the extra courses on the grounds that too many of them would be out, and then the school goes ahead and prevents them from doing internships after all the incidents they’ve had.

       Ochako doesn’t know whether or not she’s disappointed or relieved after it’s all said and done. Class 1-B seems to be doing a bit better, though only because a few of them got their licenses. She’s out grocery shopping on a Sunday, drifting between shops and thinking about school, when the sound of a car accident has her sprinting down the block and praying that no one is hurt.

       When she finally reaches the intersection she freezes, staring at the street as she tries processing what she’s seeing.

       A car is there, stopped halfway through the crosswalk, with the engine compartment caved in as if the driver had slammed into a concrete pillar. Lying in the street is a woman curled around her child. Everyone on the block has frozen and is caught staring at what remains of the car’s engine. Ochako is two steps into the intersection when a grunt makes her stop again. Her jaw drops as someone climbs out of the wreckage of the engine and walks over to the woman and her child.

       “Are you okay? Did I push you too hard?”

       For a half hour, Ochako drifts on the edges of the accident. Police show up and question the driver (no I didn’t run a red light I would never, of course I was going the speed limit…) the woman (my baby, she just ran in the intersection and it said walk but I saw the car crossing and I just moved and then we were flying…!) and, oddly enough, the boy who’d gotten hit (she isn’t close enough to hear his statement).

       Then, just as suddenly as it all started, it’s gone. She watches the car get towed away and the woman and her daughter are leaving in an ambulance just to be sure. After a few minutes, she looks around and sees the boy across the street, still talking with the officer. It looks almost like he’s getting scolded, and then he’s just wandering off and the officer is there, talking on the phone.

       Before she knows what she’s doing, Ochako is walking up to the police officer.

       “Was that boy okay? The one who got hit by the car?” The officer blinks, then sighs then slips their phone into their pocket.

       “Everything is fine, miss, nobody was hurt. The driver may have some hairline fractures, considering the speed he was going, but everything looks like it turned out alright. I was worried for a bit since the kid was acting strangely but I think he was just nervous.”

       He won’t say anything more than that, and Ochako can’t do anything other than leave it at that. She had barely caught a glimpse of the boy, other than a shredded high school uniform and dark hair.

       The next day, she wanders into class and finds Mina and Kirishima staring at a video on Mina’s phone.

       “Oh, is that the accident?” Spills out before she can really think about it, and suddenly Mina is on her for details. Once she tells them what happened, Kirishima frowns and rewinds the video.

       “I swear, that guy looks almost like the one who was at Kiyashi…”

       Mina asks a bunch of questions after that, and Ochako files that little tidbit away in the back of her head. She isn’t sure what has her attention, but something seems strange. The police officer seemed uncomfortable when she approached him. And if that boy was the same person… Just who was he?

       Mirio thought he’d seen everything.

       He’d been taught how to use his quirk ‘properly’ by a man who could see the future. All Might had exposed the secrets of Japan’s champions, then offered to train him for the role. Sir had been proud when he accepted the offer for training. While out on patrol, one of his friends had been hit by a bullet that took his quirk away for a night. Out of all his classmates, his internship had been the most in depth, the most intensive, and he was sure that he’d started seeing the world for what it truly was.

       Nighteye’s agency investigation into the Eight Precepts of Death was a secret. People were focused on the League of Villains, after their recent moves and the failed raid, which left Sir with the job of ‘cutting the head off of the sleeping snake’, apparently. Mirio wasn’t a huge part of it. His only job was to keep up the patrols and try to maintain the peace while Sir went investigating.

       Everything was supposed to be normal.

       It goes like this:

       Mirio is walking down the street a few blocks from Sir’s agency, doing his patrols as normal, when he sees Overhaul himself wandering down the street. A pair of his direct subordinates walk beside him, judging from the plague masks on their faces, and the killing intent rolling off of them has every civilian avoiding them by a full block. It doesn’t help that they’re walking in the middle of the street, and the pair are slowly wrecking any car that comes too close. Barriers protect them, and the big one’s punch destroys any vehicle that gets too close to Overhaul’s path.

       Before he can step in or call Sir, there’s a civilian walking into the street out of nowhere looking determined to do something. Mirio really doesn’t like it, but Overhaul stops a decent way away and stares at the boy when he doesn’t move out of their path.

       “Are you a hero? Coming to do the job even off duty?” He calls. Mirio chews his lip, praying that Sir will pick up because this looks really, really bad.

       “You’re the one who hurt her, aren’t you?” The civilian asks, fists clenched so tight he’s shaking. Emotions roll across his face in waves: fear, nerves, anger, desperation, determination. When Sir sends his phone to voicemail and sends a text, Mirio shoves his phone in his pocket and gets ready to rush in. Overhaul is already talking.

       “Oh? So you’re the one who took her from me. Give her back. She’s necessary for my goals.” He calls. On either side, the henchmen shift and get ready for a slaughter.

       “I won’t let you hurt anyone else.” Civilian calls out, forming a rough fighting stance. Mirio screams internally because this kid obviously hasn’t fought anyone before and he’s already phasing through a parked vehicle when the big guy with fists of steel rushes out to attack.

       Mirio is popping out of the ground in a rush when the stranger takes the punch against his arms. He phases through the attack coming his way and pauses on the other end of the street, eyes locked on the civilian. The pavement beneath his feet is cracked, nearly shattered from the force of the blow, and he’s pushed back a full meter, but otherwise he’s totally fine.  

       Everyone seems just as surprised that he made it out as Mirio is, which… he tries not to think about that.

       “You took a punch, huh? Then I’ll just go all out!” The thug cackles, rushing in for another blow. Mirio waits, watching as the civilian reforms his stance and makes a slight move to block, this time with one arm.

       The pair dig a long track through the pavement as the Yakuza continues throwing blows. Each hit has the civilian slowly but surely pushed back, dug nearly past his knees into the street from the force of the onslaught. Mirio is shocked when the civilian is still standing after such an insane number of punches, but when the dust clears and reveals the pair staring one another down, Mirio finds himself shocked for a different reason.

       Despite blocking most of the punches and taking a few to the chest, the stranger is just a bit dusty. Red like he’s running a marathon, but not red from bleeding and bruising. His skin is flushed, not broken, and the muscle beneath is substantial enough that Mirio thinks he must be a hero-in-training, maybe Fatgum’s nephew or something?

       “Who the hell are you kid? You got a good quirk, that’s for damn sure! No one ever goes two rounds with me!” The Yakuza cackles again, pointing a finger at the boy, “My name’s Rappa Kendo! Call me Kendo, if you survive this!”

       “…Deku.” The boy states quietly, throwing off the shreds of his shirt and jacket. Mirio frowns as he runs a hand over his body, almost… appraising himself(?). “I guess that car thing wasn’t just a fluke… Whatever. If it keeps me going, I’m not going to complain.”

       Deku settles into a fighting stance, looking more sure of himself now.

       “I guess you’re not going to let me take on your boss before you’re down and out, are you?” He asks, offering a shaky smile. Rappa laughs even louder.

       “HELL NO! I haven’t had this much fun in too long! Let’s go, round two!”

       The shockwave is definitely unexpected. Rappa freezes, fist locked tight against Deku’s, staring at the boy in disbelief.

       “You…! Now you’re gonna fight back, huh?! JUST HOW I LIKE IT!”

       Compared to the first ‘round’, Mirio’s eyes can actually track the fight now that ‘Deku’ is fighting back. Wind tears up and down the street in bursts every time their fists collide. Deku isn’t being pushed back anymore.

       When Rappa speeds up, Deku meets him. Mirio can only stare when their fists begin to blur into streaks of black and white. The street dissolves into a hurricane of wind around the pair. Mirio watches as heroes arrive.

       Every single Hero stops on the edge of the conflict and stares, waiting because in the end, there’s nothing else they can do. Moving against Overhaul is impossible with the random element and the barrier user.

       A thunderclap breaks across the street as Rappa goes down beneath a right hook from Deku. Everything near the end had been beyond Mirio’s eyes, which almost never happens. Only heroes like All Might and Edgeshot move at speeds like that, as far as he knows. When Rappa gets up and wipes the blood from his face, he begins to laugh again.

       “Man… what… are you even… made of… Quirk like that… and you’re just a brat…” Rappa barely steadies himself on his right leg, his form completely shattered, when he freezes entirely and glares at Deku. Mirio imagines he missed something, drinking in the injuries on Overhaul’s man. “Don’t lie like that, dumbass. This is a fight, not a FUCKING GAME! THIS IS A BATTLE OF MEN!”

       “Lemillion.” Sir’s voice snaps Mirio from his staring. He hadn’t even heard his mentor approaching which is… well, he’s not proud of himself.  

       “Sir! Um, report… That kid, he came out of nowhere. It seems like he has someone Overhaul is looking for, which may have started the rampage. That person seems to be one of Overhaul’s personal guards. I don’t think that the boy, he calls himself Deku, is hurt. But he’s moving…”

       “I saw.” Sir presses his glasses up his nose, fingering his seals with his other hand and glaring between where Overhaul is watching the fight and where Rappa is still screaming at Deku. “What set the Yakuza off like that? Is… Deku provoking them?”

       “No, sir. He’s been very quiet. Just… he’s been getting better over the course of the fight.” Mirio mutters, looking at Rappa’s strangled screaming and a look of… shame? Resignation? He has no idea what Deku is feeling. Something is off but whatever it is, it seems to be between them.

       “We can’t go after Overhaul like this… I was hoping to save it, but I suppose there’s no choice.” Sir is already half covering his face, trying to hide the effects of using his quirk, when Rappa lunges forward. Mirio is lucky he had just turned back to the fight, but he still isn’t sure he was fast enough.

        The ground breaks as Rappa’s chest hits the trench he’d formed from the street, and Deku lands gently on the ground beside him.

        Mirio blinks, staring at the dust cloud where Deku had been standing a moment before. A small burst of cracks lay there beneath the dust, but nothing else.

        Deku’s eyes scan the street after staring at the unconscious Yakuza and settle on him. They’re bright green with dark edges, glittering vividly in the sunlight. His hair, Mirio realizes, is the opposite: black at the roots and green in the light, vivid enough to make up for the complete lack of personality in his features. Other than streaks of dirt and sweat, his expression belies what he’s just accomplished. Really, even with his muscles, he’s more like Sir than anyone Mirio has ever met. Shorter, sure, but thin, covered in tight, compressed muscle that didn’t quite show off just how powerful the person really was.

        “…Lemillion, did you see him move?” Sir whispers. Mirio frowns and shakes his head.

        “No. I wasn’t looking right at him, but… it looked like one second he was standing, and the next he was just… there. Did he hit the Yakuza, Sir?”

        “…If he did, it was a kick to the shoulders.” Sir is straightening, staring at the boy with an obvious frown. “For a moment, he was too fast for me.”

        Mirio decides that he hasn’t seen everything. This ‘Deku’ has just shattered his worldview for the… He isn’t even sure how many times it’s happened this year. Really, it’s not fair.

        Deku walks out of the crater, facing Overhaul without flinching. Overhaul stares him down, but they’re too far for Mirio to see if Overhaul is angry or just… resigned. Resigned to the fact that his spear has just been completely shattered by this stranger.

        “Did you really do it…? Did you really use her like that?” Deku’s voice carries in the quiet that has taken over the street. Mirio guesses that maybe five or ten minutes have passed, more than enough time for the blocks of city around them to quiet down and evacuate. Is this a class three incident yet? He has no idea. Overhaul and his Yakuza would qualify for class four if they had the quirk erasing bullets.

        Overhaul pulls out a gun, proving that the situation can still get worse.

        “Sir, is he… is he a hero? A sidekick, an apprentice, do you have… any idea…?” Mirio’s voice is quiet. He knows protocol says not to interfere because that could make it worse but Deku can’t possibly know…!

        “I’ve never heard of him before. This is new to me, but who would make this their debut?”

        A bubble forms around Deku, which seems to shock him. The heroes stare at his back, waiting for an opportunity.

        “Sir, have you looked?” Mirio never asks that question, but this is…

        “No. There are too many unknowns. I can’t afford...”

        A crack stops them both short. Deku flinches back, then reaches up and rips something from his shoulder.

        “I was really hoping to wait and show off the full clip of finished product… but maybe this will put an end to this foolishness. Return Eri to me. Without your quirk, you’re powerless against us. You’ll save no one else with this foolishness.” Overhaul’s projecting his voice, full of barely suppressed rage. The gun is holstered, and a glove pulled off slowly. According to their sources, Overhaul’s quirk works by touch, and he’s probably going to turn Deku into a bloody mess in less than a second if someone doesn’t do something.

        Sir’s hand on his shoulder stops Mirio. He grinds his teeth, desperate to jump in and do something but knowing that his mentor is right.

       Before Overhaul touches the ground with his hand, Deku disappears again. Mirio blinks when the barrier-user flies into the air and a small cloud appears where he’d been standing. Deku lands on the street near Rappa’s trench, holding another unconscious Yakuza in his arms and glaring at Overhaul.

       “…Your quirk should be gone.” Overhaul is frozen, hand suspended a few centimeters over the ground, as his eyes narrow towards Deku.

       “These bullets erase quirks?” Deku’s voice breaks, rising to a fever pitch, “You…! How DARE YOU!”

       “Who ARE YOU?” Overhaul shouts, touching the ground and erasing the pavement between the pair. Powder fills the air between them, then fades just when Overhaul reforms the earth into a wave of spikes reaching all the way back, stopping bare meters Rappa’s unconscious body.

       “I’M THE ONE WHO SAVED HER FROM YOU!” Deku’s scream breaks the silence in the square. The earth shudders and the spikes vaporize in a rush. Overhaul collapses forward, unconscious, a moment before Deku grinds to a stop a full block away from where he’d started with a pair of trenches tracing his wake.

       Mirio isn’t sure when he started holding his breath, but he… doesn’t have the words for what just happened.

       “He couldn’t have… All Might wouldn’t lie to me like this.” Sir is quietly steaming, eyes locked on the green haired boy who stands at the end of the street, looking back at the wreckage. Everyone who watched the battle begin to descend from their preferred perches on the outskirts, approaching the unconscious forms of the Yakuza. A blanket of shock covers them all, and Mirio finds himself heading down the street towards Deku before anyone else. Sir has headed to where Overhaul lies unconscious.

       Before Mirio can reach him, Deku’s eyes lock onto him and the boy seems to snap back to reality. A gust of wind blows down the street as Deku disappears, either running too fast for Mirio to see which direction he went or flying away. Mirio wouldn’t be surprised if that was the case, he decides.

       Apparently, the world is never going to make sense. He just needs to get used to that.

       Tsurugamae Kenji gets the full, compiled report one month after ‘Deku’s’ debut. He’s not entirely surprised when it’s Tsukauchi delivering the report, because that particular detective has a tendency to end up with cases like these. After a brief bow, Tsukauchi decides to get right to it. He begins a year and a half ago, when All Might had first moved to the city.  

       Why it begins with the discovery of All Might’s secret, Kenji will never know. Maybe the universe has chosen this boy for something, or maybe he has very peculiar luck.

       Once the slime villain incident is covered, things quieted down. Midoriya apparently decided to do some public service as part of some kind of self-help project. The list is extensive, listing at least ten projects that have garnered media attention and three that no one really noticed. Kenji isn’t sure why Tsukauchi is taking the long route until he slides an incident report from just before the summer out of the file. As it turns out, it’s the first of many.  

       Midoriya has chased after the League of Villains. He’s got seven counts of throwing himself in to save civilians, only to get caught in the crossfire (a car going seventy-five KPH, a gigantification quirk, a bomb blast, and an apartment complex fire are the most notable of those). Two months ago, he’d picked up a small child who was lost, running through the streets without her guardian, and apparently was deemed fit to look after her until they’d discovered who she could go to (some sort of trauma made it impossible to separate her from Midoriya). When the little girl saw Overhaul destroying downtown, Midoriya had gone after Overhaul to keep the damage to a minimum and keep the little girl safe. The little girl apparently confessed that Overhaul had done some rather horrible things to her, and Midoriya couldn’t contain himself. People had whispered about Overhaul performing human experiments, but… Kenji found himself wishing they could just put an end to the bastard.

       Tartarus was the worst they could do for his kind, sadly.

       After the incident exploded, and the hero industry went on a witch hunt for the suddenly infamous ‘Deku’, Tsukauchi had been hard pressed to get the Midoriya’s to see a physician. Near the front of the file, the medical reports confirm the worst rumor of all.

       Midoriya has no quirk.

       He’s just naturally strong enough to do these things, apparently. A little note near the end expresses some mild horror at Midoriya’s daily routine, and Kenji makes a mental note to talk to the boy about it at some point in the near future.

       When Tsukauchi finishes that, he sheepishly reports that there are another three incidents where Midoriya jumped in to save people, using ‘Deku’ as an alias that people have started pursuing. The internet has a small following for Musutafu’s Deku, the “Green Wind Vigilante” as the reporters have started calling him.

       The notes from that are staggeringly in the boy’s favor.

       “Even if he’s not using a quirk, this can’t stand. He’s breaking the law by stepping in without a license, even if he is All Might’s second coming.” Kenji mutters. Tsukauchi coughs, and Kenji’s ears detect the barest trace of a snort beneath it.

      One day I’ll find out, Kenji thinks. If he let a detective run around with secrets of the state, what kind of chief was he?

       “Well, sir, we can’t really charge him. At worst, we could charge him with obstruction of justice, but the system isn’t geared towards punishing Midoriya’s type. He doesn’t use weapons, and he only ever retaliates in kind. Self Defense ends up covering it, though a good lawyer may be able to argue that he puts himself out there in the first place. I’ve looked it over, and each incident he gets involved in is one where heroes just don’t make it in time. Accepting the Overhaul fiasco, of course.” Tsukauchi sighs, “I’m at the end of my rope. We have the medical reports, incident reports and the proof that he was there, that he acted without guidance. But between the self-defense case and his lack of any sort of violence on his track record, I couldn’t make a case.”

       “I know that. In the end, people acting out against villains wasn’t something we could easily stop. Heroes exist to separate the civilians and the villains, in the end. His actions are those of a vigilante, quirkless or not. We will pursue them as such.” Kenji says, shutting the file and laying it atop a stack of similar cases. A pen scrawls ‘Patient Zero’ over the front, and then the folder is left for later. Tsukauchi stiffens as Kenji folds his hands and stares at him. “As of right now, I’m taking you off of Midoriya’s case. I’ll handle this personally, and we’ll make sure that Midoriya and these other cases are addressed as quickly as possible. Focus on the League of Villains. Our raid seems to have slowed them down, but I’m sure that you’ve got plenty of leads.”

       “Yes sir.”

       “Dismissed.”

       After the detective is gone, Kenji sighs, staring at the small bin of papers on the left side of his desk. His eyes don’t linger long before they’re drawn to the stack of folders before his computer. Midoriya’s file sits on top, but the others are ones he’s both more (and less, in some ways) familiar with. These files have been building on his desk for eight months, and he’s read each of them enough to know the details by heart.

       Before he can stare at them for too long, his hand reaches out and smoothly draws the phone from beside his monitor, dialing a number without too much thought. Each time the phone rings, it sends a shiver down his spine.

       “Kenji-san, this is a rare occasion! To what do I owe the pleasure?” A chirp bursts from the line all at once, making him jump. His fingers dig into the bags beneath his eyes as he barely suppresses a ‘woof’ of shock.

       “Nezu. I was hoping that things wouldn’t reach this point, but I have some things I need to consult you on. We need to call a meeting.”

       “I see. I take it you mean one of those meetings? Should I invite Yagi-san?”

       Kenji sighs, “Please. I’d like his input on this. I’m going to send you a few files. Look them over, and I’ll let you know when I can get everyone together. I’ll be moving on the first one soon, but the rest are a bit beyond my reach at the moment.”

       The call doesn’t last long. Kenji has always appreciated Nezu’s brevity, if only when the two of them are working together. Being in the same room as Nezu is like being the same room as a snake, and Kenji would prefer to avoid it. He doesn’t seem to have a choice if things continue to evolve.

       Three attacks hit U.A. during October.

       Eraserhead is attacked by Stain while on patrol one weekend, leaving him nearly blinded and bleeding out in an alley. A new scar stretches across his cheekbones, just beneath his eyes, all the way from temple to temple.

       One of his students is kidnapped, then murdered on broadcasted video. Shōta has expelled more students than almost anyone in U.A., excepting Nezu and someone named Gran Torino, but this is one of a very small list of incidents where a student lost their lives. The brutality shocks the media so much that no one has the heart to strike out at U.A. An entire family of five is found burnt to a crisp in their home, and when the remains are recovered every member of the squad wants to throw up or cry.

       Across the city, Bakugo Katsuki is attacked by Shigaraki, Kurogiri and a girl with blonde hair named Toga. During the battle for his life, his left arm is destroyed, and the damage from Shigaraki’s quirk spreads all the way to his shoulder and down that side nearly past his ribs. The bones of his shoulder barely remain, and they find a still decaying humerus at the scene.

       Shōta is sitting in the room, staring at the mess of twisted flesh (the bandages cover it, but his eyes can’t help seeing the photos) left where his student’s arm is supposed to be when a knock at the door startles him. He glances up and for once in his life is shocked enough to gape.

       A young man with black-green hair and bright green eyes stands there, dressed in shorts and a hoodie, staring wide eyed at the hospital bed. There’s nothing about him that sticks out, but Shōta knows who this is. Nezu had showed him the file a few weeks ago. He calls himself Deku in public, but a hospital isn’t a public place. Which means-

       “Kacchan…” Midoriya whispers. Shōta closes his eyes as ‘Deku’ rushes to the bedside, ignoring him entirely (Shōta had tucked himself into an armchair in the corner, out of the way of the family, before he fell asleep there) as horribly intense emotions begin to spill out. For a student who Shōta believed near bereft of a social life, the experience is eye opening. Concerning, true. But… it reminds him of several ‘aftermath’ moments. This feels intimate.

       Everyone has someone willing to cry for them.

       It takes nearly a half hour before the boy calms down and sits on the edge of the bed, staring red eyed at Bakugō without a word. Shōta is a little glad. He doesn’t feel like he’s intruding anymore, so he pushes himself out of the chair. Midoriya doesn’t move, but he hums a slight response when Shōta calls his name.

       “What kind of relationship do you two have, exactly?” Shōta asks tentatively.

       “Hmm…? I, um, we knew one another as kids.” Midoriya mutters, voice still hoarse from his crying, “We aren’t friends anymore. I haven’t even spoken to him in nearly a year. But… I couldn’t just…”

       Shōta gets that. Mic had been impossible to turn away. He can only assume they have a similar relationship, but Bakugō is… well, he’s a dick. It speaks to Midoriya’s character that he showed up at all.

       “The damage is extensive. I sincerely doubt that he’ll be able to become a hero after this. His entire left side…”

       “Sensei.” Midoriya’s voice cuts him off. Something about the tone sends a skittering trace of fear down Shōta’s spine. The boy’s eyes are as sharp as raw, shattered gemstones as he speaks, and Shōta is glad that he isn’t the one the boy is looking at. “If you know Kacchan at all, you know he’ll find a way. Ka-… Bakugo would never let something like this stop him.”

       Midoriya stands up, turning his eyes to the floor and looking drained from his time in the room.

       “I… I doubt I should be here when he wakes up. But… could you promise me something?”

       Shōta’s eye twitches. When Midoriya looks up, he’s just a teenager. Not a vigilante or an anomaly. His eyes are red and watering, he’s exhausted and his shoulders sag as if he’s just been assigned weekend homework.

       “When he tries to get back up, don’t stop him. Let him keep trying. Holding him back will only make things worse.” Midoriya says quietly. Shōta hates the little part of his soul that reaches out towards kids like this one, because it makes it really, really hard to say no. Especially considering what Midoriya has accomplished, considering his condition.

       “No promises. But depending on how he goes about it, I’ll do my best to keep him on the right path.” Shōta’s eyes narrow. “I’ll stick by my students till they have no potential, or no other choice.”

       “Thank you, Eraserhead-sama.”

       Shōta watches Midoriya walk out of the room, shoulders sagging, eyes trained on the ground. He sits on the edge of the bed, staring at Bakugō and the bandages covering his left shoulder for several minutes.

       “…What the hell is happening to the world…?” He mutters under his breath.

       Children were the future, but that didn’t mean they were supposed to face it like this. No one deserved to grow up like this. That’s what heroes were for.

        Aizawa keeps Momo back one day after class, just before the end of October, looking more unruly and far more anxious than usual. No one in their class can blame him, considering Bakugo and…

        “Yaoyorozu. You’re the top of this class.” Aizawa growls, fingering a file as if it might rear back and snap at him, without ever looking away from her eyes. “I’d like to ask how much free time you have. U.A. is looking at a prospective student, aside from Shinso Hitoshi, and we’d like you to tutor him, or see if he needs the tutoring in the first place.”

        “Um… I have the time, sir, but why not a teacher? Or a tutor?” Momo asks, knowing that there must have been who-knows how many better options…

        “We’re trying to ensure that he comes into the class not feeling ostracized. He’s a bit of a special case, and the whole thing is sensitive. All Might and I are busy, and the school is still on high alert after everything that’s happened. We need a pro to patrol while we’re there in the first place, so it fell to the student in the number one academics spot. You.” Aizawa claims. His stare is drilling holes through her eyes into the back of her head, reminding her that she shouldn’t have talked back in the first place. This is a hero’s decision after all, what right… “If you accept, it will be twice a week, when we aren’t having heroics. Will that be acceptable?”

        “Of course, sensei.” Momo looks at the floor as she bows, glad to have the opportunity at all.

        While Momo isn’t dreading her first visit, she doesn’t know what to expect. Living with her classmates has proven that she’s… out of her depth in the real world, to say the least. Most of them aren’t from wealthy families or notable schools. Iida is the closest student to understanding her situation, considering how cold Todoroki is. The Iida family lies somewhere in between the normal and the Yaoyorozu level. Even if the girls have taken a liking to her, she doesn’t quite understand their lives as well as she’d like to. So, she reminds herself as Aizawa escorts her onto the train, she must not be surprised if things do go as she expects.

        They get off the train in a nice neighborhood. Small, quaint even, but exactly the sort of thing Momo knows she wouldn’t have been prepared for considering a student under ‘special circumstances’ (U.A. is the top hero school in the country, for crying out loud, she wasn’t trying to be so…)

        Before they can get to their destination, a park explodes. All Might appears out of nowhere, checking on them briefly, and is then held back by Aizawa.

        “This isn’t your place, All Might. Let Deku handle it.”

        Momo blinks in shock. She wasn’t expecting heroes to leave things to vigilantes, but she guesses it's some sort of protocol she doesn’t know and chews her lip as a group of three villains go on a rampage in the otherwise peaceful residential area.

        A gust of wind blows viciously down the street as something lands in the park with the force of a meteor. Momo barely blinks before the villains are piled up on top of one another and left there, unconscious, and another gale howls through the streets. No one else bats an eye, though the heroes stare for a moment before they continue the escort. She swears Aizawa mutters something about ‘getting faster by the week’ as they continue walking, but she decides it’s not for her ears and keeps her eyes on the sidewalk.

        The destination is an apartment in a small complex, the type of place Yaoyorozu Momo has imagined and visited briefly, back when she was small, but not the type of place she is familiar with. When they knock, a small woman with green hair and lines worn into her face (she has to be forty at the oldest, what could wear someone down like that) greets them at the door.

        “You’re just in time, he’s just come back from school. I had to force him to sit still and not head out on his normal routine.” She chuckles, sounding tired, as she lets them in. Momo pauses in the doorway, after her teachers (who seem familiar with the place, as if they’ve been here before and know Midoriya-san somewhat) and bows at the shoulders.

        “Thank you for having me. My name is Yaoyorozu Momo…” She’s interrupted as the woman takes her hands, smiling at her with so much kindness and youth in her smile that Momo is momentarily stunned.

        “Oh my, you’re absolutely stunning, aren’t you? Please, there’s no need to be so formal, you’re welcome here miss Yaoyorozu. Come in, come in! I heard they were asking a student to tutor my boy but lord, I never imagined we’d be entertaining a lady…”

        Momo isn’t sure when she was placed at the kitchen table and given a cup of tea, or exactly what she’s been talking with Midoriya-san about. It hits her in a rush, and she finds herself staring into her tea for a minute or two trying to cope with it. She resurfaces to the sound of All Might’s laughter, and a reassuring tap on the shoulder.

        “Midoriya-san is very good at making people feel at home, isn’t she young Yaoyorozu?” His smile is completely genuine, in a way that Yaoyorozu only knows after being his student for so long. The number one hero has a lot of shadows and shades, and this one is entirely proud and kindhearted.

        “Yes… It took me by surprise for a moment, how natural this felt. My apologies, Midoriya-san.” Momo isn’t allowed to bow, apparently. The woman is waving her hand dismissively, then taking her hands and smiling at Momo with so much warmth that Momo feels as if she’s being hugged.

        Midoriya-san sighs, “Yaoyorozu-chan, don’t apologize for taking a moment to relax. This house is a place where people can feel safe. Our doors are always open to you and your friends.”

        A sudden thump sounds from the door near the entranceway, and both of Momo’s teachers freeze as they turn towards the noise. Slowly, the noise turns into the clear sound of someone struggling, bumping into things and muttering curses under their breath.

        “I believe I’ll excuse myself, if I may. Patrols.” All Might’s smile is forced now, and the air is… less warm. More awkward. The number one hero excuses himself, pausing by the door in question and staring at it with… a strange look on his face. Momo turns her eyes to the tea, wondering just what on earth could make him look like that.

        Once the front door has shut, they wait a few more minutes before the door in the hall opens and someone falls out, paws their way up the wall onto one foot and then stumbles into the living room and collapses onto their back again. Momo is on her feet before his back hits the living room floor, gaping at the display of clumsiness. Green eyes stare up at her from the floor, panicked and surrounded by a face red as a tomato.

        “Uh… hi…?” He stammers.

        “Are you alright…?” Momo manages to ask.

        “Oh, um, yes. Yeah. I’m fine. Just, eh… Hey, you’re Yaoyorozu-sama, right? From U.A., class 1-A?” He doesn’t make any move to stand up, instead talking to her while rolling his eyes up and lying on the floor. Momo blinks, then remembers the sports festival.

        “Y-yes… Aizawa-sensei asked me here to tutor someone?”

        “…Oh.” He blinks, still staring wide eyed and looking more like a deer in the headlights than someone lying on the floor of their living room. “Eraserhead-sama… Do you hate me?”

        “Not particularly.” Aizawa calls, not bothering to take his eyes from his tea. Momo glances back and forth between the two as the boy drags his hands down his face.

        “Um, I assume you’re Midoriya-kun… and that you’re the person I’m here to tutor?” She asks uncertainly.  

        “…Yeah, that’s me.” Midoriya’s eyes are closed, and breath is slowly hissing out of his lungs in a way that proves he’s equally, if not more, uncomfortable with their situation than she is. Watching Midoriya deflate makes her a little envious. She wishes she could do that.

        Not that she’s uncomfortable with the situation. It’s a gift from Aizawa-sensei, and she can’t afford to waste it when they considered her at all.

        Momo tutors Midoriya-kun whenever she doesn’t have heroics after school, and after a week it becomes something that she looks forward to. All Might and Aizawa escort her each time, and she becomes used to arriving to the house and spending a few minutes with Aizawa and Midoriya-san before her student ends up fumbling his way out of his room. The tea is never expensive but always lovely.

        During November she watches villain incidents bloom all across the district, only to be stopped by something she can only describe as a force of nature. When she hears Mina and Kirishima and Kaminari talking about this new vigilante named ‘Deku’, she pins the incidents on him and shelves her curiosity (it festers, though she doesn’t think about it too often). After a little while, though, the incidents die down and stop altogether.

        Oddly enough, despite being clumsy and easily embarrassed Midoriya-kun is charming and bright. He follows their tutoring easily, taking notes and falling into a trance like muttering state so often that eventually she just lets it happen until he gets too far off track. The amount of notes he takes is obscene but, considering the number of chemistry texts she’s consumed during her middle school days, her conscience won’t let her mention it.

        Three weeks into their program, Momo notices some problems with her tutoring program. Anytime someone brings up U.A., both Midoriyas startle and divert the conversation. It took awhile for her to notice since Midoriya-kun was prone to combustion when complimented but avoiding U.A. isn’t his normally flustered denial.

        When she brings up how much physical training is involved in the hero course, Midoriya only mentions that he focuses on body weight training. He looks uncomfortable enough talking about it that she can’t bring herself to push him.

        Occasionally, while they’re studying, police will drop by and ask him questions. It never lasts long (he only takes breaks for ten or fifteen minutes) but it’s worrying. She never asks, knowing that it might have something to do with All Might and Aizawa escorting her to the area and Midoriya’s supposed consideration for U.A. admission.

        She isn’t allowed to discuss the sessions with her classmates, and apparently, it’s stressing them out. Both Midoriyas have apologized for the secrecy, but neither one offers to break it.

        There’s a little girl living with the Midoriyas, a girl named Eri who isn’t fond of strangers. She lives in the same room as Midoriya-kun and won’t leave it while Momo is visiting unless it’s absolutely necessary. No one will talk about why she’s there, other than a quiet mention of adopting her to keep her safe.

        All Might and Midoriya have run into one another exactly twice. The tension of their meetings is so horrible that Momo wonders if maybe Midoriya-kun is a scandal that the number one is paying to keep quiet, a long-lost son or a relative. Part of her knows the idea is ludicrous, but she can’t shake it.

        After a month, her escorts see her to the station and leave her once they reach the stop nearest the Midoriya’s home. When she asks All Might, he mentions that the area is almost completely free of villain activity now and they’ve decided she isn’t in immediate danger.

        One day, while the three of them are talking about quirks, she idly mentions that she uses her body’s mass to create objects. Halfway through his wide-eyed rant on how incredibly amazing and useful her quirk is, he panics and completely destroys the kitchen table. Despite her wide-eyed stare, the pair exchange a look (Midoriya-kun is embarrassed and apologetic, already picking up the pieces, and his mother looks rather exasperated) and explain that it happens all the time.  

        Momo doesn’t realize until after she left that he’d panicked because he mentioned how ‘perfect’ her figure was.

        She visits on an odd Sunday after that little incident and ends up talking with Midoriya-san for an hour. When she asks after Midoriya-kun’s muttering habit, his mother grins mischievously and sets down her tea.

        “Yaoyorozu-chan, would you like to know a secret?”

        Momo feels a thrill run down her spine, because this sort of thing isn’t what she expects from the matriarch (her classmates, maybe), and ends up nodding before she can get too nervous.

        The All Might name plate hanging from Midoriya-kun’s door is adorable and childish just like the boy himself. She almost opens her mouth to say something when Midoriya-san goes to open the closed door, but a finger over Midoriya-san’s lips stops her.

        Inside, Midoriya-kun is sprawled out asleep in his desk chair. A little girl that Momo has only seen once or twice in passing sits on his lap, wrapped in a blanket and cradled in his arms. His chair is leaned back, and his snoring rocks the chair slightly every time the pair breathe. Papers, colored pens and pencils cover his desk in messy piles. It takes a moment for her to realize that most of the papers are notebooks, though a small pile of loose paper lies near the corner.

        Quietly as possible, the pair step into the room and Momo’s eyes widen. Every page is covered in writing, some neat and some narrowly crammed into the margins. She recognized a few of them as subjects they’d gone over during her earlier visits, and more besides. Two books for math, one for English and three for history, another four for sciences that she could recognize (physics, chemistry, biology and one she didn’t know) and a few notebooks with mixed artwork and notes on… people?

        “Izuku started muttering when he was little. He probably got it from my rambling, and even I was a little worried at one point. But he had a friend, a boy who was always popular and smiling. That boy was naturally good at things, in a way that Izuku… wasn’t.” Midoriya-san’s smile is tight, but not awkward. “The other children began picking on him. I’m not sure if watching his friends do well inspired him, or if his dream drove him to do his best. But Izuku grew up working hard, harder than almost anyone, to keep up. During middle school I’d find him here like this occasionally.”

        Momo follows Midoriya-san’s gaze to the bookshelf tucked up against the wall, with shelves full of subject textbooks and notebooks and pictures (mostly selfies, some actual pictures, and Midoriya-kun looks awkward in every one of them, nervous but earnestly happy) with people that range from elderly to children of all shapes, sizes and quirks. She takes a notebook from the wall and flips through it, reading over notes from middle school that must cover every problem and example with so much commentary it makes her gut churn just remembering the subject.

        “I never thought about it until he was older. Izuku isn’t smart like other people but he works hard. When he mutters, I think he’s trying to keep his thoughts on track. If you’re not paying attention, you wouldn’t even notice how hard it is for him to stay focused. Sometimes I listen to him talk and it sounds like gibberish, but then he says one thing and it all just… slots into place.” Midoriya-san sighs, looking at her son fondly.

        Momo glances at the boy in in the chair. Her chest feels full, and she’s afraid that it’s all a bit much when she’d only been asking about his bad habit. But… it certainly explains a lot.

        The tutoring comes to a stop midway through December so that they can prepare for exams. As she’s typing her number into Midoriya-kun’s phone, she can’t help but notice that his contacts are limited to his mother and a few people with police force titles by their name. Her contact list is no better, so she doesn’t say anything when he clutches at the phone after she hands it back.

        His smile is so blinding that it infects Momo, and she smiles the entire way back to her dorm.

        Midoriya’s picture is a selfie of Eri sitting in his lap, red eyes looking curiously up at the camera while he grins and flashes a peace sign (apparently his trademark, if the photos on his bookshelves are any indication). For Midoriya-san, Momo picks one that Midoriya-kun took, showing Momo and Midoriya-san sitting at the kitchen table grinning, cups of tea paused halfway to their lips (‘so you don’t forget about us’, Midoriya-san had told Momo when they took the picture).

        Momo doesn’t return to tutor Midoriya-kun, but instead for a simple visit. She shares her customary cup of tea with Midoriya-san, waiting for her friend to come out of his room. When the door opens and she glances over her shoulder, she finds a tentative little girl with white hair hiding behind Midoriya-kun’s leg.

        “Yaoyorozu-san,” Midoriya-kun’s words caught her eyes and his eyes held her gaze, “Eri would like to meet you, if you don’t mind?”

        “Oh… of course…!” Momo mutters, remaining seated as she watches him lead the little girl around the couch. Up close, Eri is even more adorable than she remembers. The horn is long, not pointed but easily as tall as her head, and it parts her hair on either side of it. A single long lock of white dangles before her right eye. For the first time, they look at one another. ‘Red’ isn’t the right word for the color of Eri’s eyes, because red is the color of Kirishima’s eyes, hair and costume. Eri’s eyes glitter like small rubies. When her eyes water and drop towards the floor, it feels like watching petals fall off a rose and fills Momo’s chest with… something.

        “Hi there,” She says, remembering to keep her voice gentle and light, “my name is Yaoyorozu Momo. May I call you Eri-chan?”

        The little girl nods, taking a step towards Midoriya-kun but not looking towards him. Emotion presses at the insides of her lungs and ribs till her throat tightens to contain the flood. She waits, fighting against the cry welling in her chest, and eventually the little girl looks up and meets her eyes again.

        “…I missed you…” She whispers, looking uncertain. Momo glances towards Midoriya-kun, who squats down and sets a gentle hand on Eri’s shoulder as he answers the unspoken question.

        “Eri likes your voice, and she missed you while you were gone. When she heard you were coming back, she said she wanted to see you, too.” Midoriya-kun’s grin is all pride, defusing the bomb in Momo’s chest and leaving her with warm goosebumps rolling down her arms. Then his eyes sparkle, and he holds up a hand to whisper, “She really likes hugs, but she doesn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

        Eri turns red enough that she could pass for Midoriya-kun’s younger sister, but she doesn’t flinch when Momo slips off her chair and kneels down, hands out towards the little girl.

        “Eri-chan,” Momo’s voice cracks as Eri looks up, tears welling and cheeks flush, “I don’t mind, if you feel comfortable.”

        The little girl hesitates, but eventually she slips into the embrace and gently clutches at Momo’s shirt, reaching as far over Momo’s shoulders as the she can.

        Eri spends the first half of the visit in Momo’s lap before she slips away and Midoriya-kun picks her up without a word. The motion is so natural that Momo freezes, teacup halfway to her mouth, and the moment is captured in her mind.

        Her friend Midoriya-kun is goofy, clumsy, awkward, nerdy (to an extreme, though he tried to hide it) and the complete opposite of what Momo would call a hero.

        This is not her friend Midoriya.

        This person’s smile is solid, bright and kind. His eyes don’t water or flit from place to place, they meet her gaze at every opportunity and capture her. With Eri in his lap, he sits straight up with his shoulders back instead of slouching. Every move is slow, deliberate and careful without any hesitation or tremor. It’s no surprise that the girl falls asleep in his lap because he radiates safety and warmth in a way Momo hasn’t felt since she was a child playing with her parents. Returning his smile is the most natural thing in the world as they giggle and shower the sleeping girl with compliments.

        For a little while, the weight on her shoulders disappears.

Chapter Text

            It’s been a really, really bad Saturday. Like, bad even by Izuku’s standards, and he’s not so oblivious that he can’t tell that’s saying something. He’d spent his entire life being told that he couldn’t achieve his dreams, but… It hadn’t come from heroes (other than that one showboat back when he was small).

            All Might said he couldn’t do it, and he’d been proven right shortly after.

            When Izuku watches Kacchan sulk away, probably exhausted from being held hostage for so long, he can’t help but chuckle a little bit.

            He’s right… I didn’t help in the end. I guess it’s time to give up on that dream. Izuku heaves a sigh and turns around with a smile. Facing his mother will be pretty bad. She’s probably worried sick, so he takes a breath and jogs to the corner.

           -

            He’s barely turned the corner when All Might skids into the intersection, glancing around for a moment before deflating.

            In the grand scheme of things, the hero was only a second too late.

           -

            Dinner is… emotional. Izuku almost died, which really makes his mom question the whole ‘hero chasing’ hobby he picked up. Luckily, he has the best mom in the world, and she leaves the subject alone after only poking him a little bit. His head isn’t at the dinner table at all. If his mother had told him he was floating back to his bedroom, he wouldn’t have been able to tell her any different. 

            The events of the day play through his head until slowly the picture starts to widen until he’s lying on his bed looking at pretty much his entire life.

            I was useless today... He hums internally. The thought isn’t new, but it carries more weight now than might have before. There’s no chaser, no denial, no reassurance. And now, looking back through his life, he realizes something that… he probably should have realized sooner.

            Outside of P.E., he’s never trained a day in his life.

            For a little while he drifts in and out of consciousness. When he finally realizes it’s too early for bed, he drags himself to the computer and starts looking into options for becoming a police officer. Of course, there aren’t any high school tracks for that, so he’s got way too much time compared to the hero track. For good measure, he starts looking into a little bit of fitness material online. Beginner stuff.

            Around one AM, he stumbles to bed and does his best to pass out. When he glances at the clock and reads five thirty, he resigns himself to not getting any sleep at all. Breaking in the day with push-ups and crunches, Izuku does a little more research and pins a list to his door before he gets his turn in the bathroom. 

            With a hand on the doorknob, he takes a look at his bedroom and frowns.

            Maybe there’s a little too much All Might, now that he thinks about it.

           -

            Ms. Kenkō doesn’t hate him, but the glare she’s giving him is making Izuku second guess that. She’d been livid when he collapsed on the track and having to drag his shivering body into the PE office was probably not fun.

            Being at school during that first week of his new ‘routine’ is hell for two reasons. One, he’s still a pariah. His friendly neighborhood bully has toned things down, but now Izuku is stuck being… Izuku. He still has a target on his back, and now he’s jumped into a villain attack. People aren’t just going to let that go, for some reason.

            The second reason is that he’s genuinely embarrassed. Calling himself weak had apparently been a gross overestimation, because he can’t even manage ten push-ups during his second set. And that’s just the beginning. Running was… well, he couldn’t call it running.

            For a few days, he honestly considers giving up and just looking for a desk job. Moving is agony, sleep is nonexistent, and life is… trying. But sitting in his room every night with the heroes looking at him, he can’t help but hear their tirades.

            Some of them are encouraging, some aren’t.

            After those come All Might’s words, and then Izuku’s own commitment. His old dreams turn over in their coffins, and he decides one more day can’t hurt. Even if he does get a desk job.

            If he didn’t have a quirk, then he’d get stronger. Forget about being a hero, just help whoever you can, however you can.

            The second week is even more painful than the first. By the start of the third week, he’s starting to ignore the agony in his limbs. At some point, they’ve started retaliating by giving out on him. Which leads to his current problem.

            “So, Midoriya, would you like to explain why you collapsed during the run?” She raises an eyebrow over her scowl. Izuku already feels chastised. He really doesn’t like where this conversation is going, but… at the same time, he’s not doing anything wrong.

            “Um… I started training?” The woman’s expression twists into something hard, forcing him to wave his hands frantically. “N-not to be a hero! Not… I just, um, that incident… a while back. The attack. I just realized that I’m not in great shape, and I wanted to try getting stronger. P-please don’t call my mom? I’m really fine, this is just… I’ll be fine in a minute.”

            The woman sighs and rolls her eyes, taking a seat across from him.

            “What kind of training are you doing, exactly?”

            “W-well, I run a few kilometers, and I do sets of push-ups, sit ups and squats… all the standard stuff, you know? I have a list of everything that I run through daily. But I’m… really weak.”

            “You’re doing all of that every day, huh? You should really stagger them. Work different portions of your body on different days.” She sighs as her knuckles tighten around her knees. Izuku nods, but he can tell her heart isn’t really in it. He considers it for the moment before he decides that would just be giving up, so he nods and mumbles something of an agreement. “So, what kind of goals are you working towards, if not being a hero?”

            “Yknow… little things?” Izuku trails off under her stare, then shrugs and winces at the motion. “Lifting stuff?”

            “Lifting stuff.”

            “Y-yeah? Sorry for all the trouble, sensei.” Izuku mutters. The woman just sighs and slaps a hand down on his shoulder (OW) before she stalks towards the door.

            “You’re a crazy kid, Midoriya, but I can’t tell you what to do. Just don’t keep overdoing it. Falling behind in school won’t do you any favors.”

            She won’t let him do anything in P.E. for a week. He’s a little bit grateful, but he sticks to the routine. If he hurts this bad, then either its working or he’s not doing enough.

           -

            “My tolerance is building slowly so I’ll have to update my diet as well, but it’s only been a few weeks…” Izuku sighs, itching for one of his notebooks. He twirls his pencil through his fingers casually, though it stumbles once or twice along the way. Ever since his run in with All Might, and what Kacchan did to his last notebook, Izuku hasn’t brought another one to school. The only problem is that he’s ahead in most classes, and without something to do…

            “I know most of you are going to head for the hero track...” the class erupts in momentary chaos as their history brings up the profession. Kacchan remains broody and quiet, instead of shutting them up. “BUT let me ask you! What have any of you done for your community?”

            The statement makes Izuku pause and nearly sends his pencil flying. Several other members of the class stare at Kanekō-sensei in confusion.

            “Heroes are known for taking down villains nowadays, but back in the beginning, heroes were known for being paragons of virtue, or something like that. Community service, aside from being a great way to keep our nation beautiful, is a fantastic resume builder and a great way to build social approval.”

            A few days later he jogs out to the abandoned beach, a trash heap that’s basically a local legend. His body throbs as he jogs in place, scanning the dunes of rusted scrap, and a smile breaks out on his face.

           -

            After a month, he sets his Routine in stone (er… sand?).

            In the mornings he runs to Dagobah beach, does three sets of push-ups, sit ups, squats, leg raises, planks and side planks, then he throws some of the garbage from the beach into the dumpsters in the parking lot. After school he’ll do his homework and run a little more, trying to go for distance in the second half. Each day he makes sure to run ten kilometers at least, and after two months he’s reaching fifty push-ups reliably. One hundred is still a long way off, but it’s progress and Izuku will take it.

             The pain is excruciating. Muscles he didn’t even know existed without extensive research are out to kill him with EXTREME prejudice. According to the internet you’re supposed to take rest days, not push your muscles to work when they’re already hurting. Something about ‘second day pain means you’re building muscle’. Izuku is already weeks into the rut by the time he actually pays attention to that.

            Lately he works out to burn away the haze that’s started clinging to his brain. Extra pain seems to be the easiest way to do that. No one ever said he was smart (other than his mother).

            At least he doesn’t collapse in gym class again.

           -

            When summer rolls around, the pain starts to dissipate. He’s four months in, working up to one eighty reps per session with minute-and-a-half planks, but it catches him by surprise. Suddenly he has all this free time after homework and working out, despite working out for four to six hours a day.

            He’s working a grip trainer at his desk one night, working on the profile for a new hero that debuted earlier that day, when the lead snaps under his pencil and he throws the object down. During a lazy spin, Izuku glances up at the wall and finds the heroes looking down at him. Kamui Woods, Endeavor, Hawks… All Might…

            For the first time in months, he can’t just pass out and ignore the way they’re all staring at him. It makes him think of the mud-man incident, now long past, and he just feels… conflicted. Remembering his old dream makes him both a little sick and a little jittery. Eventually he just sighs and scratches the back of his neck, only to freeze when he realizes where he knows this feeling from.

            Kacchan.

            It’s… exactly the same. Growing up, acknowledging that his friend was…

            The posters start coming down that night.

            Slowly. Some are rare collectibles, he’s not a complete heathen.

           -

            Fall slowly turns to winter, and by the time October rolls into November, the cold is seeping into just about everything. Despite the slow start that comes with the chill, Izuku figures out very quickly that he can’t wear too much during his Routine^TM or he’ll just strip it off later. He runs hot, apparently, and the snow doesn’t bother him (though he could do without the steam rolling off his arms, a few people have mentioned that his quirk is so useful).

            After breaking his original goal of ten kilometers in under two hours, Izuku started expanding his run. With a new goal of twenty Km, he runs through several of the quieter districts in an effort to learn a little bit more about the city. Occasionally he’ll find his way out to parks, but it’s harder to run those without people trying to talk to him.

            This particular day, though, the cold is bad enough to leave patches of ice lying in wait for him. Despite his best efforts, he ends up falling on his ass shortly after he reaches his turning point. 

            “Excuse me…?” Izuku squeaks at the sound and spins around, nearly spinning too far on the same patch of ice. An old man stares at him through little glasses, somewhat amused by the display. He’s wearing a long apron with a familiar name embossed on it (white letters on red, a bold scheme that takes Izuku a moment to read through) and he’s… shivering.

            “AH, sorry, can I help you?” Izuku asks, hoping that he isn’t in trouble again. The man smiles at him.

            “I see you on this route every day. I was hoping you might be able to spare a moment to help me with some boxes…? They’re awfully heavy.” He sighs.

            Izuku doesn’t really stop to think about it. The cook seems embarrassed, so he puts on his widest grin and agrees wholeheartedly. After lifting a stack of boxes onto the shelves in the back of the shop (of course the name was familiar, they were standing in front of the restaurant and he runs by it every day) he sticks around and does a few other little things. No one is in the restaurant, since it’s the beginning of December and snowing outside. Eventually, though, he sets the mop back in the storeroom and shuffles towards the door.

            “I need to start heading back home now, but anytime you need help, let me know! I don’t mind taking a break from my run to help out.” Izuku calls.

            “Wait, please!” The old man grabs him by the shoulder and hands him a few bills. “I can’t ask you to help me so much without paying you. Thank you very much for today.”

            “I, wait, this is too much, really! It was just a few boxes…!”

            “And my floors! And the lightbulbs, and the squeaky seat down near the end of the bar!” The old man laughs. “Thank you for your help today. Come by anytime you like, I’ll give you some good food!”

            Izuku drifts out into the street, pocketing the money with a frown and checking his phone. When he sees how many times his mom called him, he pales. He makes it home in record time, ice be damned, stumbles through the door and flinches when his mother flies in his direction.

            “Are you okay, Izuku? Did something happen?!”

            “Mom, I’m fine!” Izuku has to carefully push her hands away when she tries to grab him, knowing that he’s probably cold from being outside. She frowns even more sternly, tears quivering at the corners of her eyes.

            “What were you thinking?! Three hours late, Izuku, I was worried sick! I thought you’d been hit by a car, or… or caught by a villain…!”

            “I’m so, so sorry mom! I was just helping someone out.” He swallows, pulling the money from his pocket and extending it to her, “I, um, one of the shops, a restaurant I think, the owner asked me for help moving some heavy stuff. He was old and no one else could help him today… H-he paid me, but I-I mean, can we use it for groceries… maybe?”

            The tension has been growing in their house ever since the mud-man incident. Convincing his mom to let him go out jogging boiled down to putting a tracking app on his phone, though she never seems to use it. Despite his best efforts and the lack of hero talk, his mother has only gotten more and more worried recently. He’d have to be a complete idiot to miss the worried expressions turning to frowns of disapproval. Now she’s angry and miserable all at once just because he was late coming home. 

            He isn’t really sure why she looks at him this way; With shadows clinging to her eyes and anxiety pouring off of her in waves, wringing her hands and taking long breaths between half angry, half worried glances. Like he’s going to walk out one day and just… disappear. It’s been months. Nothing even remotely interesting has happened since, and she doesn’t know anything but the bare minimum.

            After a minute or two, she just frowns and closes his hand around the money.

            “Just… keep it, Izuku. You earned it, after all. But be careful, okay? Don’t just go wandering off with everyone who needs help.” She sighs. When she goes to reheat some dinner for him, he feels like he did something wrong.

            He isn’t sure why he keeps hurting people, even though he’s trying so hard just to be a decent person.

            The money doesn’t burn a hole in his pocket the way it used to. A year ago, he’d have turned around and bought some kind of collectible, but that was… It feels like a long time ago, now. With a week or two to think about it, he buys a couple textbooks so he can study further ahead of his classes and improve his math.

            Of course he had no idea that the bookstore’s owner would ask for help during his visit, and when he returns home late (it’s only the second time but he feels like this is becoming a problem for some reason) with even more money in his pocket, his mother gives him that look again.

            At least she doesn’t say anything this time.

           -

            It’s been eight months and a week since his encounter with All Might. The incident has ceased to exist anywhere other than Izuku’s restless dreams and the strained silence he maintains with Kacchan. Now that December is in full swing, he’s in the middle of exam season and he’s stuck looking at entrance exams for high school. Without U.A. on his choice list, he’s suddenly looking at several competitive academic high schools around Tokyo and there’s a very high chance of his getting into all of them. Apparently keeping up his rank over the years was worth it once he forgets about all those pesky “hopes and dreams”.

            Ironically, he’s helping more people now that he’s given up than ever before. Nearly every shop owner on his route has stopped him to talk or ask for help, now that he’s proven himself to be a decent person. Word spread faster than he’d expected, and now he has a bit of a bank account. Aside from school materials and some new clothes, he doesn’t have anything to spend his money on.

            His mother won’t let him buy things for the house. She’s more and more… short? Is that the term? Can he even say that without it being ironic? They’ve always been pretty good, but the cold frowns and the brief responses are making it harder and harder to stay at home. Besides sneaking in a few small things here and there, he ends up putting his money in a bank account that his mother co-signs for him. From there, he focuses on earning the best future he can.

Maybe she’s just worried that he’s lost his direction. Maybe he can fix this.

            Christmas and the New Year’s festivals are held, and Izuku drifts around the outskirts. Fireworks are nice, but he doesn’t want to wade through all the people. Getting anywhere near the mess reminds him of the pressure in his chest and the days where he has trouble getting out of bed. His mom neglected to go, claiming that she wasn’t feeling well. The new yukata he’d bought her is lying on the couch, unused, and Izuku is out staring at the fireworks while he catches his breath. 

            They haven’t really talked in a month, and it… He just doesn’t know what to say. A tiny part of him really, really hates the way she looks at him. Even that angry thorn in his side loves her more than anything in the world. It doesn’t register when he reaches the top of the steps, already heading down the balcony towards the apartment on pure reflex.

             He fits the key into the lock easily enough, but he’s not paying attention as he steps inside. Leaning against the door to kick off a shoe, he flails a leg and sways, suddenly lurching backwards as his shoe flies into the living room.

            “Whoa…!” The world slows as Izuku pitches forward trying to correct himself, and his hand tightens on the door to try and hold himself up.

            Something groans and gives way before he catches himself with his free hand. The resulting explosion of woodchips and noise leaves his ears ringing, already groaning as his body seizes up in response to the panic.

            Izuku glances back at the entrance and winces when he sees half of his front door in his right hand, the other half hanging onto the frame by a shred of limp wood and paint. Releasing the doorknob exposes a mangled shadow of what it once was.

            “IZUKU?!” His mother flies in from the living room and stops dead in her tracks, gaping at the carnage on their doorstep.

            “Um… I can fix this, I think…” Izuku mumbles, trying to fight the fading buzz in his ears.

            “Izuku…?! What… How did you…! IZUKU!”

            “I’m fine! I, um, tripped…” Izuku sets his half of the door against the frame with a wince and moves to console his mother, who takes a step back and stares at him hysterically. She wasn’t feeling well, and now there’s cold air pouring into the apartment every second which is only going to make things so much worse.

            “You TRIPPED?” His mother’s eyes actually bug out of her head. Izuku didn’t know they she could do that. “What… Izuku, what is going ON?”

            “I wasn’t thinking mom, I just tripped. I’m sorry, I’ll go and get a new door and screw it in right now, okay? Just stay here, get a coat…”

            “Don’t you DARE leave, Midoriya Izuku!” His mother’s bugged eyed shock turns to anger as he stands up to leave. The fact that she’s yelling shocks him so much that he takes a step back. “I don’t know what’s going on, but you tell me the truth RIGHT NOW, young man!”

            “Wha… mom, I’m telling the truth, I swear!”

            A few moments later, he shakes himself awake and runs a hand over the sore part of his cheek.

            “I… I’ve let you do whatever it is you’re doing because I thought… maybe it was good for you, Izuku, but this…! I don’t know if its drugs, or, or… I don’t know!” She throws the blanket on the couch, glaring at him through the tears, and he can only stare blankly back at her in return. “You’re scaring me, Izuku! If you don’t want to tell me, fine! You’re grounded! And… And we’re going to the doctor on Thursday! You’re getting a drug test, if you won’t tell me what’s going on.”

            “Mom, I’m not taking drugs!” It’s hard to talk when he’s trying to piece together the missing frames of his life. She slapped him. Pretty hard, too, judging from the sting. The cold really isn’t helping.

            “I don’t know if you think I’m stupid or you think it’s okay to just… just do whatever you want, but I am NOT stupid, Izuku! I’ve been keeping track of your phone! Some days you’re halfway across Tokyo, and you stop for hours at a time! All this ‘work out’ business, coming home with all this money, and now… How do you explain that door, Izuku! What kind of person rips a door in half without…”

            “Without a quirk.” Izuku finishes the statement for her. Something cold spikes in his gut, then spreads until his entire body just feels numb and he can feel his brain buzzing behind his eyes. The fight drains out of his mother in those seconds and the tears start to fall. Considering this is their first fight in his entire life, Izuku can’t help but think this was a long time coming.

            That thought doesn’t make it hurt any less.

            For a few minutes, they stare at one another. Izuku doesn’t feel anything, not even the frosty wind blowing into their apartment, but the dam on his mother’s emotions finally crumbles. She collapses onto the couch, sobbing into the blanket as she tries to form words.

            When he realizes they can’t talk like this, Izuku turns and walks out.

            Somewhere about twenty minutes from his house is a hardware store that he wandered into back in August. At the time he’d been looking for gloves and a mask to help with his beach clean-up. Instead of actually buying anything he’d done a bit of work for the owner’s wife, Smith né something Sakura. Chatting with her about quirks had turned into another one of his late evenings out, and he’d become a frequent helper around the shop ever since. Jason Smith is like the Americans out of a television show: blonde haired, blue eyed, short beard and constantly shaggy. On anyone else, Izuku might have been a little worried. The American never seemed to care about his appearance.

            He wanders through the front door in a haze, glances at the section full of doors and then shuffles towards the counter. Smith-san takes a single look at him and hops the counter to grab Izuku by the shoulders.

            “Yo, Izuku-kun, what happened? Are you okay?”

            “Um… S-Smith-san,” Izuku responds in English out of habit, though the words feel strange on his tongue. “Can I buy things? Need a door.”

            “You need a door? What happened? Hey, come here,” Izuku is sitting in a chair running a hand over his cheek before he even realizes that Jason led him here. “Talk to me, little guy, what happened?”

            “Got in a fight with mom.” Izuku takes a breath and tries to focus, though it just makes his chest hurt. “Tripped and… Rip… Breaked the front door. I breaked…?”

            “Broke, I think… wait, you tripped and broke your front door? And your mom, what did she do, why were you fighting?”

            “The door. She…” Izuku blinks as Smith swims into harshly into focus, then shakes his head to try and clear the shock from his brain. “Mom slap me.”

            Jason exhales harshly through his nose, and Izuku realizes quickly that that’s probably not the best way to say it. He switches over to Japanese, doing his best to keep it brief.

            “She’s worried about me. Thinks I’m taking drugs or something. I’m fine, I just need to fix the door. Mom isn’t feeling well lately, and it’s cold.” He says quickly, waiting for Jason to nod in response.

            “All right. Let’s grab a door and see what I can do. I’ll drive you back, okay? You’re not taking a door and the tools all back to your place wearing a shirt and shorts. Too cold for that. Lemme just get Sakura, all right?”

            Izuku nods. Jason’s wife is native Japanese, after all. The man isn’t the best with their language, despite living here for three years or so. Sakura always says that he’s a bit slow when it comes to those things, but he’s an amazing craftsman.

            The drive back to his apartment takes about as long as it did to jog over to Smith’s shop, and when they arrive the couple spare him a glance.

            “Yeah, I’d say you ‘breaked’ it.” Smith snorts.

            Sakura-san makes tea and sits with his mother while they fix the door. Jason has to stop him from ripping pieces off the frame and shows him how to remove the hinges with the drill. Izuku follows the directions easily, smoothly, but he doesn’t actually remember any of it when they’re done. After admiring their handiwork, Jason heads to the kitchen and sits with his wife and Izuku’s mother.

            Izuku bows to the pair and mutters a thank you before he heads to his room.

           -

            Before school starts up, his mother takes him to a physician.

            First things first, his mother stubbornly demands that they do every test they possibly can. Quirk factor, drug test, fitness, health, DNA… Izuku sits quietly for the entire ordeal, listening to the doctor try and steer his mother away from all the procedures that keep piling up. They dig up old records, but his mother refuses them. She’s nearly crying when the doctor finally sighs and relents.

            Izuku is a bit glad that the empty feeling stuck with him. Stripping down to his underwear in front of the doctor and his mother barely registers until she makes a little noise and the doctor’s pen skitters across the clipboard. He floats through the sample taking and testing until he’s told to put his pants on, and blinks when the doctor shines a light in his eyes.

            “Midoriya-kun, would you mind telling me how you’re feeling?”

            “I’m fine. I haven’t been sick in months.” Izuku mutters. The doctor hums and pulls out the little hammer used for testing reflexes.

            “That’s fine, but what about emotionally? Physically? Are you feeling tired, or faint? Maybe you’re experiencing mood swings…?”

            “No… Just tired, but I’ve been working out a lot. Made a habit of it since… April,” Since All Might. “I’ve had some trouble focusing recently, though.”

            “I see…” The doctor taps his leg a few times with the hammer, but he barely manages a twitch. Eventually he sighs and rubs his finger on Izuku’s knee, right beneath the kneecap. “I’m going to have to hit a little harder, Midoriya-kun. Perfectly normal, if you’re feeling tired and having trouble focusing.”

            A jolt runs through his leg, from his hip to his ankle, and the doctor yelps when Izuku’s leg straightens in a blur. Some papers on the counter flutter.

            “Well, you’re healthy!” The doctor chuckles nervously, moving to check the other leg.

           -

            Two weeks later, his mother drags him out of school early and Izuku is manhandled back into the doctor’s office. His mother, despite being even tinier than he is these days, can only drag him by the hand but considering how much force she puts behind it there’s really no other word for it.

            “Well, we’ve got all the tests here. At your request, we ran the DNA and quirk factor exams, though that’s usually secondary to a physical exam. So, here are the results.” Izuku’s mother takes the folder, then looks up at the doctor as he smiles kindly and looks over towards Izuku. “Before I get into that, though… Midoriya-kun, would you mind removing your shirt?”

            Now that he’s a little more lucid, Izuku blushes under the attention. He’s been looking at enough body building videos and health websites recently that he knows he’s not scrawny anymore. Even though he never had any plans to follow in All Might’s footsteps exactly, he can’t help but wonder how anyone can stand wearing spandex all day.

            He’d be lying if he said that he doesn’t catch himself running a hand over his new muscles every so often, even if it’s embarrassing to show it off. Seeing All Might up close left him with a constant reminder of just how far he has to go, but…

            It’s nice not feeling useless.

            At the very least, he’s strong enough to do some physical labor. 

            The doctor pokes his shoulder with the cap of his pen and hums quietly.

            “Do you lift weights, Midoriya? Or do any kind of training with a professional?”

            “No, not really. I’ve kind of been researching as I go, putting together a routine based off what I wanted to do. But everything online says weightlifting could be bad if you start too early. I do a little bit of community service, but that’s it.”

            “Well that’s very good. You’re nearly fifteen, though, so weightlifting isn’t going to affect you badly. Honestly, there’s a risk of bulking up too much before you reach your full maturity, but in your case, I’d say you can do quite a bit before you’re in any danger.”

            Izuku nods, making a mental note to ask one of the teachers if he can use the weights at school before he graduates. The doctor pokes him again before he pulls off his glasses and leans back to face Izuku’s mother.

            “So, about the tests. Midoriya-kun is in fact quirkless. Everything comes back negative, and his drug tests are clean as well. In fact, your son is probably the single healthiest person I’ve checked up in the past several years. What’s odd is that he’s managed to reach levels of some professional athletes without doing any weight training. His resting heart rate is somewhere around fifty beats per minute, dropping as low as the high forties, and the density of your muscle mass is a bit frightening considering your age… but not unrealistic, I suppose. You did throw several of us for a loop, considering your last checkup was barely more than a year ago.” The man chuckles weakly, despite the air growing somewhat frigid. “W-well, my only recommendation is changing how much protein you’re eating, and maybe consider taking some vitamins…”

            Izuku keeps his eyes on the floor as his mother receives the news, and he does his best to keep them away from her face until they finally reach home. Without really talking about it, they both shuffle into the kitchen and settle there, letting the silence start to boil. He waits for the inevitable, and eventually she breaks the silence.

            “I…” Seeing his mom start to cry, in that moment, inflates something in Izuku’s chest until it’s hard to breathe. He’s very much aware of how easily the pair of them tear up and cry, but this time his mother is fighting back real tears, and it’s his fault. At some point, he’d started hiding things and stopped thinking of her feelings. “Izuku, I’m…”

            “I’m sorry, mom,” Izuku’s fists tighten till his knuckles turn white against the grain of the table. “I haven’t… I thought everything was fine, but I guess I’ve been keeping things to myself too much.”

            “No, Izuku…!” His mother blew her nose as the tears began flowing more heavily. “I was just worried about you, Izuku. You’re my baby boy… and all this, after that slime villain mess, I thought maybe you were trying to be a hero, taking something…”

            “I’m not going to be a hero, mom.” Izuku snaps. His throat burns even more when she flinches, eyes widening in shock at the statement. “I didn’t tell you everything about… what happened.”

            To her credit, she stays silent as he tells her everything that happened. All Might’s verdict, the heroes’ scolding, and his decision to try and get stronger. It takes less time than he thought it would. For such a massive impact on his life, the retelling only takes ten minutes.

            “I’m not going to be a hero, mom. This, the exercise, the fitness, I’m just… trying something. Maybe I can help people, like I’ve been doing. And, and I’m going for a normal high school…! I even showed you,” He trails off, because he knows that somehow he hadn’t done enough.

            “I thought you were a sidekick, illegally.” Inko whispers, clutching her hands tight, “Or… or a villain, maybe… I don’t know, Izuku. I was just so scared, and… we never talk about it. You wanting to be a hero, or being…”

            “I’m quirkless, mom. We tested it twice.” Izuku croaks, “I’ve given up on being a hero. So, don’t worry about that, ok?”

            “Izuku… I’m sorry…” She wheezes under her breath. “I’m so, so sorry, baby…”

            “Don’t be, mom.” Izuku cracks a smile even though he wants to cry. “I’ll be fine, okay? So, don’t worry anymore. I’m gonna make you proud, no matter what.”

            “I’m always proud, Izuku.” Inko hisses, lunging to grab his hand across the table. “Even when I’m mad, I’m so proud of you. You… You’re the best son I could have ever asked for.”

            Izuku chuckles weakly, and the tears start to fade from her eyes. There’s a less depressing angle to her eyes now.

            “I swear, Izuku. I… No matter what you do, from here on, I’ll support you with everything I have. We’re a family. Even if you tear through the door every other day, we’ll make it work.” They both laugh a bit at that. Her determination doesn’t disappear though. “I love you, Izuku. More than anything in the world.”

            This time, his smile is real, and wide enough to hurt.

            “I love you too, mom. More than anything.”

           -

            For the next week, Izuku’s eyes linger on the door. He’s still not entirely sure how he ripped the door in half, or how he crushed the doorknob the way he did, but things have been… dark. Now that he and his mom have restored the warmth of their apartment, it’s all he can think about.

            The doctor said he’s quirkless.

            He’s been tested it twice.

            But this leads to a new problem. Izuku has no friends. Outside of his mother and the people he helps out occasionally, there’s no one he can turn to for help figuring things out. And if he tries without someone there to save him… well, he doesn’t exactly want to think about that.

            So he waits for a week. When Sunday rolls around he finishes off breakfast quickly and does the dishes, then sits down across from his mother.

            “Hey, mom? Do you mind, uh… helping me with an experiment?” She zeroes in on him immediately when he says it. He can’t help but wonder if she’s been thinking about the same thing.

            “What kind of experiment, honey?”

            “I don’t know how I broke the door.” Izuku can see her expression twist up as he starts, so he barrels forward before she can say anything. “I mean, I’m quirkless, but that didn’t make any sense. So, I was hoping you could come down to the beach and watch me try something out.”

            “Izuku… Are you sure about this?” His mom looks worried. Not horrified or scared, just worried. Izuku takes that as a win, because he’s kind of worried too.

            “Yeah. Please? I just… need answers.” After a moment, she nods and sighs.

            Twenty minutes later they’re on the way down to the beach, chatting nervously. She hasn’t seen Dagobah in months, and it’s not like many people other than Izuku go there. Izuku pauses on the stairs when she looks at the trash and makes a little happy noise.

            “You’ve done a lot of work, hmm?”

            “I don’t really know, it’s just a little bit here and there.” Izuku rolls up his sleeves and wanders towards one of the piles. “So… I’m just gonna go for broke here, okay?”

            “Just be careful, honey.”

            Izuku isn’t sure what he’s expecting. He glances over the trash until he finds something big, a bike, and he pulls it out singlehandedly. Gradually he finds bigger and bigger things in the trash, then tosses them behind him. The little noises his mother makes sort of fade into the background as he starts getting frustrated. Eventually, he decides that playing it safe isn’t going to answer his question.

            His mother makes a much louder noise when he stops in front of the fridge.

            It’s larger than he is, nearly twice his size, and still standing solidly. Even with all the weight training in the world, which Izuku has never done in his life, lifting the fridge would still be near impossible.

            “Izuku, what are you thinking?”

            “I’m just thinking.”

            “That one looks a lot bigger than the other ones, honey, maybe…”

            “Don’t worry mom, I shouldn’t even be able to get it off the ground.” He grins in spite of himself. Even trying is completely ridiculous, but that’s what got him here, right? And if he can get it off the ground even a little bit, then he can be proud of himself. Then they can go home, and he can go back to being normal.

            Getting the right squat form took him nearly a week, but he falls into it easily now. His mother squeaks as he puts his fingers under either side of the trashed machine and grunts, putting as much of the weight as he can in his legs.

            The breath he’s holding falls out of him as he stands up, holding the fridge in his hands as if it’s the easiest thing in the world. His legs burn some, but his lower back is fine.

            “I-I-Izuku…?!”

            “I got it…! I’m fine, really.” He grunts as he shifts the machine in his hands and lifts higher, pushing it up over his head and onto his shoulders. When he turns to his mom her eyes are bugging out of her head again. “I’m… Oh.”

            He’s not fine. He’s better than fine, but that… That’s a problem in and of itself, isn’t it? First the door, and now this. All the optimism in the world can’t help him justify this after less than a year of working out.

Because now he’s not just a quirkless kid anymore.

            “Izuku HOW, what are you DOING!? Put that down this instant!”

            “I can barely even feel it.” Izuku grunts, then leans the machine over until he’s got one hand under the tall side, and he lowers his free hand. Balance isn’t terribly hard, and despite his expectations his wrist doesn’t hurt. “See? I’m fine!”

            He squawks as she faints, dropping the fridge to the sand behind him as he runs to catch her. 

           -

            The next day he catches the P.E. coach in the office. She gives him a look, one that promises she wants nothing to do with him, but he sits down and stays until she finally relents.

            “I was hoping I could try out the bench press after school.” His teacher arches an eyebrow, and he scratches the back of his neck. “I was hoping you might be able to supervise me if I tried out the bench press. If you have time.”

            “Depends on how long you need. I have about a half hour.” She says. “I take it you’ve been keeping up your work outs?”

            “Y-yeah, something like that.” He hasn’t passed out in gym since the first time he collapsed, but she doesn’t seem any happier about this. “I just… don’t have the money for a gym membership, and I wanted to see how strong I’d gotten before I graduate.”

            “Midoriya… I can respect this whole self-improvement thing you’re trying. Really. But… what are you after, kid? You’re quirkless. Are you looking for fitness to change that?”

            “I know, sensei. I just need your help this once.” He kind of wants to cry. But that would be really uncomfortable, and he’s so close to never having to come back. Right now, he needs answers more than anything.

            “Fine. I’ll supervise you for a few tries on the bench press, but don’t slack off, okay?” The woman sighs as she grabs her keys and trudges out. Izuku follows her quickly, ignoring the looks people shoot his way.

            The gym is small, since their school isn’t exactly the best. But it has some decent old equipment, and all Izuku needs to do is-

            Okay, he has no idea what he’s doing. But he’s doing something.

            “How much can the press bar take, sensei?”

            “We never put on more than two hundred, but,” She glares a little more harshly when he waits for her to continue, but grudgingly mutters, “the max on the bars is four hundred.”

            “Thanks sensei.” Izuku decides not to waste time like he did at the beach. Starting slow won’t get him anywhere closer to the answers he needs. He ignores the noise of disbelief from his sensei when he stacks four hundred on either side of the bar and looks back to her expectantly.

            “I can’t spot that kid, even if you somehow did manage to grow a quirk.”

            “Is there anyone who can?” Izuku gives her his best pleading look. The look she gives him could kill, but luckily her quirk is minor muscle supplementation not laser eyes. After a minute she throws her hands into the air and storms out.

            “I’ll get Kanekō…”

            Kanekō-sensei is actually very impressive without his suit jacket on, but Izuku shelves that thought as the man gives him a run down on how he should be lifting the bench press. After giving the man a heartfelt thank you, Izuku takes a few breaths and puts a little force behind his hands.

            The bar lurches off the stand. Kanekō-sensei leaps to catch it, only for it to stabilize a moment later. Izuku mutters out some hurried assurances as he stares up at the bar, reveling in the fact that he can feel some strain beneath the weight. Maybe he’s getting addicted to the pain if he’s enjoying it after going without for like, two weeks. Pumping the bar up and down ten times puts a healthy burn in his arms before he racks the weight and stands up.

            His teachers don’t have anything to say in response. Izuku takes a breath, then looks at the bar and frowns. He remembers the fridge balanced on one hand and wonders if maybe he can do even more. There’s still time, after all.

            He grabs the bar with one hand, planting his knee squarely on the bench, and despite Kanekō-sensei’s warning he pulls. Getting the bar off the rack takes effort, enough that his wrist pops a bit and aches pleasantly, proving that he’s not All Might. Just an inhumanly strong quirkless kid. Before he replaces the bar, he lifts it up like a dumbbell once, twice, three times.

            The sound of the bar hitting the rack is really, really satisfying.

            But before he can worry about adding weightlifting to his routine, he’s got some explaining to do. 

           -

            When his mother reads over his complete routine (the one he does on Sunday mornings, when he has no school and a full day to study and work out), she gapes at him.

            “…You were just working out…” She mutters, shaking a couple aspirin from the bottle with shaking hands. “You were actually just working out, but… Izuku, this is beyond human.”

            Izuku shrugs.

            “I didn’t really think about that till I’d already started doing it.” They share a look, both of them equally uncertain. “But it’s not like I can do anything about it now, right?”

           -

            The beach cleanup goes much faster now that he’s not dancing around the edges. Which, surprisingly, teaches him something else. Jagged metal apparently does nothing to his hands, despite using a healthy amount of lotion and hand soap. Nothing cuts him during his little trips into the disease-ridden beach, and he doesn’t even catch a cold. Just before Izuku graduates middle school, Dagobah beach is a sparkling paradise.

            Izuku eventually decides on a high school that has a large and competitive academics department, as well as a popular sports program. Graduation is quiet. No one looks at him twice. Kacchan doesn’t acknowledge his existence.

Everything goes perfectly.

            One thing about graduating is an abundance of free time. Before anything else, he tears down his old routine and looks into more rigorous work outs. Push-ups are joined by fingertip push-ups and handstands. He throws a few exercises in for his lower abs and lengthens the times and reps on just about everything. For pure amusement, since it’s tested by Phys-ed at the beginning of every year, he throws in sideways jumps for a few minutes.

            His first day trying the new Routine sets his rep count at two hundred all around (some reaching close to three hundred) with five minutes for handstands, planks, and core. Then he deicides to put a little more effort into his run… And accidentally leaves a small crater in the sidewalk outside his apartment complex, which earns him a scolding and another incredulous stare. Despite his hope, he decides to cap his runs at twenty kilometers and never, ever runs faster than a hearty jog. 

            Shortly after his graduation, an apartment complex gets decimated by a villain attack. After a brief internal debate, he ducks under the line of construction tape and mentions offhandedly that he’ll help with the larger chucks of concrete as long as they don’t mind. There’s a bit of a ruckus, since he’s a middle schooler and he’s just running around, but when he mentions community service the manager of the site gives Izuku his card and clears him, as long as they have parent’s permission.

            After the first day, no one bats an eye seeing him running around with a hardhat, though some of them don’t really get over seeing him haul rubble twice his size off the piles.

           -

            Izuku likes to think that he’s come a long way since he met All might. Looking back, it’s… painfully obvious how much an otaku he was, and maybe that’s not something to be ashamed of but at the same time he really should have gone about it differently.

            Between his working out and his… whatever-it-is… (he’s half convinced that All Might infected him with some sort of super-human virus because Izuku still has no idea what kind of quirk lets you be the greatest super hero of all time without a freaking stomach) he’s learned how to actually get out of his personal space and talk to people. Sure, helping people out and making small talk isn’t the same as making friends (that art still eludes him) but it’s progress.

            Nowadays his old hero merch is stashed away in the closet, where it can’t bring up old memories or collect enough dust to wear down the paint. He still keeps up with heroes on the net and makes profiles after school, but it’s tempered with a need to do more than just figure out what people are doing with their quirks. Some of the textbooks he’s picked up are books on psychology and history, as well as some war strategy books.

            Even if no one at his new school knows him, he doesn’t take his old hobby to school or talk about heroes more than necessary. His fingers still itch to be writing something down, but (after losing two or three pencils to the ceiling as a result of his twirling habit and his unchecked strength) he makes sure to fill his class time with studying and his free periods with more studying.

            He’s still invisible. No new bullies have followed him to this new school, and no one really has time to care about his quirklessness (?) since he’s number three in his class.

            Despite all his progress, everyone else is still… well, everyone else.

            Villains are still a thing, but people usually dissolve into traffic and blog posts when it comes to chaos and anarchy, instead of becoming victims (victims have the title of “poor bastards”). Even if Izuku spends a decent chunk of his spare time cleaning up after villain attacks (he’s up to two construction sites now, and they’re asking if he wants to sign on with a company) he hasn’t actually stumbled onto an attack since the mud-man incident.

            He’s walking home from school three days into the first term when the storefront on his left explodes.

            It’s surreal, standing in the smoke with musical sheet metal blocking everything else from his ears. All around him people panic and run away screaming. He blinks and glances towards the building, wondering if anyone…

            Two villains are there now, wide eyed and screaming at him. One has a schoolgirl clutched in his arms, gun pointed either at her head or at Izuku’s chest, while the partner has a plastic bag full of cash dangling from his gun-hand and a case of beer tucked up under his left arm.

            Sadly, whatever they’re trying to say is lost on him since, you know, they just blew up the DAMN BUILDING. He points a finger at his chest, still a bit dizzy since his hearing is just now swimming back into existence, and the villains are now making waving their arms at him while screaming. At least he thinks they’re screaming at him.

            A flash of light catches his eye and suddenly the world stutters into slow motion. He’s on the back foot when he glances down, reaching out lazily and snatching something out of the air. When he holds it up, it takes a second to register that the little piece of metal in his hand is most likely a bullet, that the thugs just tried to shoot him.

            When he looks back at the villains, they’re gone, sprinting down the street as their hostage stumbles forward and collapses into Izuku’s arms. Police swarm the scene instantly, taking the girl from his arms and asking him questions even though he still can’t really hear. After a few of them have all tried getting through, he shrugs and holds up the bullet.

            “I think they shot me?”

            The rest of the incident is a whirl. Paramedics and police are motioning him over to ambulance so they can check him over while his hearing comes back. Apparently, some heroes caught the villains before they got further than a block, so that’s something. Just as things start fading back into perspective and Izuku can pick the buzz of the sirens out of the whine, the hostage stumbles over to him and bows, saying something that’s too garbled for him to understand as her parents drag her away.

            A paramedic lady looks him over with a stern expression, tapping him all over and checking his pulse before she asks about his hearing. It’s come back just enough for him to answer questions, so he tells her how he was walking by when the building blew up.

            Before they let him go, he has to give the police his statement and his phone number. They send him along with the assurance that he’ll be questioned again later.

            His mother takes one look at him when he walks in and frowns, though she doesn’t panic. Izuku can’t blame her, considering his uniform is shredded. They’ll need to get another one. Despite how much Izuku wants to shower, Izuku sits at the table and gives his mom the rundown. Afterward she looks at his arm and gives him the most disbelieving look ever.

            “You’re really okay? How is that even possible?”

            “I’ve got no idea.” Izuku shrugs, looks down at his hand and opens his fingers a few times. A soft snort escapes him as his mother pokes his forearm and hums.

            “You feel normal, not bomb-proof.” She groans and runs her hands up into her hair, looking at him with wide, tired eyes. “Izuku, what is happening to you?”

            “I’m just as surprised as you are!” Izuku grins a little bit, because what else can he do? “Guess this explains why I never got sick from the beach, huh?”

            “Well, I suppose I don’t need to worry over you so much anymore… seeing as you can catch bullets and walk away from bombs.” Inko sighs, and Izuku can’t help but take one of her hands in his own.

            “Hey, mom… you’re taking this… R-really well, considering…”

            “I told you I’d support you, honey,” His mom smiles at him for a moment before she sighs and tightens her fingers around his. “Honestly, even if this is all CRAZY, I can’t help be a little bit relieved. You’re safe, and no one got hurt.”

            “I really expected you to panic when I said I got shot.” Izuku grumbles, grinning as she rolls her eyes and swats his arm.

            “Who wouldn’t?! Speaking of which, how’d you even see the bullet? That isn’t normal, Izuku!”

            “I don’t know! It seemed pretty normal! Like, it was fast but…” Izuku frowned. “I guess, everything would seem normal while I’m moving at average speed…? But maybe my perception sped up with the adrenaline, or my mind just doesn’t bother overclocking axons for something as slow as daily life. If I could see and catch the bullet then I was moving relatively the same speed and my brain was perceiving the bullet somehow, though that’s theoretically impossible bullets move faster than…”

            “Izuku!”

            “Eh?” Izuku blinks as his mother pinches his ear. “Was I doing it again?”

            “Mmhmm. Look, honey, let’s not worry about it. Whatever this is, just be careful.” She frowns, but Izuku grins. At least this time, they’re talking. He knows she’s not mad, because he really couldn’t have done anything about this one. At least he’s not alone.

           -

            The police call him in the next day. Actually, they’re waiting for him after school and he’s not really sure what people think when he gets in the back of the cruiser. Some of them heard he was caught up in the attack (hence his brand-new uniform) but most will talk later.

            He’s retold his story for the third time when a man in a trench coat arrives. Izuku isn’t sure what to make of him, other than this is probably way, way beneath his job code.

            “You’re, um… Midoriya? Midoriya Izuku?” The man asks, sitting down in a chair pulled from somewhere. Izuku nods and sighs. “I’m detective Tsukauchi. Sorry, but I just need you to repeat the story one more time, ok? Start with your details, name, the date, your date of birth, quirk…”

            When Izuku says quirkless, everyone stares at him for a moment before the officer waves at him to continue. Once he’s finished, the detective stares at him, then looks at the file.

            “Could you, um.” Tsukauchi frowns, then sighs and rubs a hand down his face. “Could you say your details again?”

            “You have a lie detection quirk?” Izuku blinks. The detective opens his mouth a few times, then finally coughs and nods.

            “Something like that. But I need you to repeat…”

            “Would my doctor’s office help more?” Izuku frowns. “They just did another test a few months ago.”

            “That… will work.” Tsukauchi nods.

            “Um… I guess you can’t tell me about your quirk?” Izuku tries, smiling a bit. The detective snorts and shakes his head.

            “Sorry, Midoriya-kun, but no. Police secrets.” He stands up. Izuku laughs weakly, both because the man is smiling and that’s great, but he really wants to know about that quirk. 

            Instead, he’s driven home and left on the curb in front of the complex, with a friendly wave from the officer who’d caught him during the attack.

            His mother laughs when he tells the story.

            “At least I’m not the only one who didn’t know what to do!”

Chapter Text

            It’s Sakura season again. Which is just… crazy.

            Where did the time go? He’s spent the past year running around the country, when did he lose track of the time? Just a few months ago he was sure that time had crawled into a river and gotten itself stuck beneath the ice. Maybe that was just winter. Sure, Izuku likes Sakura season better than winter, but now that it’s here he almost wishes it was winter again.

            Maybe staring Death Arms in the face doesn’t help. Seems like every time Izuku sees that guy he’s stressed out of his mind. Izuku doesn’t know the guy personally (and doesn’t want to, mind you), but Death Arms yells a lot. For a moment, Izuku considers telling the guy about that massage parlor two streets down. Apparently, despite being cheap enough for a high schooler to buy a make-over package, they do good work. His mother had been glowing when she came back.

            He glances from Death Arms over to the Police officers and catches a pair of them lounging on their cruisers. Most of them seem to consider this a problem, but he can see several who haven’t drawn their weapons. The ones he recognizes who aren’t taking it easy are holding a meeting, seemingly content with the situation.

            Considering he’s got three guns pointed at him and a knife pressed against his throat, he really wishes they would care a little more. Or at least pretend. The villains are close enough that, if his mom followed through with that joke from last week, a rape whistle would probably shatter their eardrums.

            The street is in a deadlock thanks to the heroes’ response time and the Police acting quickly, but it’s a bit of a double-edged sword at the moment. Instead of some kind of chase or… anything more exciting, Izuku just stands in the middle of the street while the villains glare at the cops and try shuffling around.

            “Man, how’d this go so wrong?” One of them curses quietly. Izuku rolls his eyes.

            “Well, if you were from around here, you’d know that Death Arms patrols the next street over every Tuesday. Lei-a-nardo is pretty new but with the Sakura blossoms going strong they’re on city clean up duty and that storm last weekend left a whole bunch of people complaining.” Izuku twists his nose at the desire to sneeze.

            “You some kinda hero nerd, brat?” A mirthless chuckle sounds from behind him as someone presses a gun to the side of his neck. It’s just a standard handgun, one with a bit of attitude that Izuku hasn’t seen before, but he assumes that it’s got standard ammo loaded in it. “How’s it feel knowing they’ve left you to us? You’re not worth it for these cops. Must feel pretty horrible.”

            “Yeah, I mean they could at least act like they’ve got something better to do.” Izuku huffs, twisting his mouth as a particularly strong bit of pollen leaves his nose itchy.

            “Uh, kid, I didn’t mean it like that, I meant…”

            “What? Oh, you’re fine. I didn’t think you meant it personally.”

            “I… Okay?”

            “Hey, can you like… raise that knife up to my face? I’ve gotta itch my nose really bad or I’m gonna sneeze.”

            “Do you know who you’re talking to kid? You’re a hostage.”

            “That’s kind of a big picture thing, honestly? Look, just say no if you’re not going to, this is really irritating and I’m trying to focus.”

            “Is this fun for you, brat? What, you some powerhouse playing by the rules, waiting for the media or something?”

            “No, I’m quirkless,” There’s a moment were the weapons pressed against his skin waver, “But I really don’t want to deal with Death Arms today so if you wouldn’t mind turning yourselves in, I’d really appreciate it. You guys don’t have an out.”

            “What the hell are they feeding kids these days, apathy?”

            “Hey, you have a word of the day calendar, don’t you?”

            “Shut up before I gut you.”

            “I’ve got that same calendar, though!” Izuku’s eyes hurt a bit from trying to look up, since the one who has that calendar is directly behind him, so he glances to the side and catches the time from the knife villain’s watch. “Ah, is that the time? Look, guys, can we wrap this up? I need to get home. They gave us this new Pre-Cal assignment and I’m not really…”

            “I don’t know if you’re dumb or careless, but I’m not going in just because you’re a fucking nerd…!”

            Izuku snorts a bit. The insult reminds him of Ka-

            Bakugō. Reminds him of Bakugō. With less, ah… heat.

            “Look, I get it, you guys are villains, you’re scary and you managed to get, like, halfway through a crime. Which is more than a lot of people can do these days, honestly,” Izuku sighs, pressing a hand against the knife to gently guide it away from his neck. The heroes and the Police are starting to panic, now, and the thugs are stepping back trying to focus on him, now that he’s moving. “As much fun as this has been, I’ve got homework and I really don’t have time to stick around.”

            He’s half turned around when the three villains with pistols fire. Two of the bullets get snatched up, but the one on his left punches through his jacket with enough force to make him grunt. One look tells him that there’s a noticeable hole punched through his shirt and coat, which means he’ll need to buy another uniform tomorrow.

            “Do you know how much these things COST!?”

Wide eyes stare back at him as the villains turn their handguns on the heroes and the Police, which does absolutely nothing against the tasers and fists coming their way. It’s kind of anticlimactic, actually. Next thing he knows a familiar officer is leading him out of the chaos as if he hadn’t just left Izuku to his own devices a few minutes ago.

            One look at the ambulance on standby and Izuku decides that he’s entirely done with this for today. Halfway there he turns and looks up at the officer without bothering to hide his mood.

            “I’m going home. If you need a statement, just come get it later.” The officer makes a bit of a fuss over it, but they both know it’s a farce. After they picked him up at school, they’ve made a habit of driving him home from incidents or leaving him on the side of the scene for an hour as they put things in order. Eventually he’d just given up and gone home, which somehow invited a pair of officers into his house to take his statement.

            When he gets to his complex, roughed up and sporting a blazer with a gunshot, the neighbors take one look at him and start muttering something about how he used to be a good kid. Not the ones he knows, who he helps out occasionally, but the ones who can go a week without getting wrapped up in a villain attack.

            Izuku has been wrapped up in nearly ten over the past two weeks, and he doesn’t even know how. There are three more heroes on his way home than there were last month. He’s got more arrests to his name than some of the rookie sidekicks on the charts, and he’s barely fifteen.

            Shit, he’s only fifteen. He feels so much older than that.

            At least the people talking behind his back treat him like a teenager. No one else seems to, anymore.

            “I’m home…”

            “Hey sweetie… Oh, another attack, hm?” He sighs and kicks off his boots in the entranceway as his mother gives him a sad smile. “Everything okay?”

            “Gotta buy a new uniform again.” Izuku mutters, stripping his backpack off his bag and tossing his blazer over a chair. Luckily, after losing his old ‘All Might’ themed backpack last week, the foreman from one of his community service projects had gotten him this one as a gift. So far, the sleek green and yellow canvas has proven about as indestructible as he is, which is a blessing. Replacing uniforms every other day is already hard enough. “Everything else seems fine, though.”

            “That’s good, at least! Should we expect company?”

            “Yeah, I left early since the holdup part took longer than normal. They’re really pushing Pre-Cal right now and I’ve got enough homework as it is.” Izuku frowns as he catches the tired smile on his mother’s face. She’s already heading to the kitchen, but he feels bad. At this rate, they’ll be back to quiet dinners before much longer.

           -

            Every day he has to get a new uniform, his discussion with whoever is in charge of that becomes longer. Apparently, he’s bought more in two weeks than some students have in an entire year, so he’s talking directly to the principal now (not that the questions change). He pays out of his own pocket and tells them the truth, that’s he’s been in more villain attacks than he wants to have seen in his entire life, but they all have this look of defeat.

            Izuku is used to that.

            Finding Kurobayashi-sensei outside the office is a pleasant enough surprise that he actually stops and stares for a moment. Just long enough for the man to take notice, place his bookmark and draw up himself out of the chair.

            Kurobayashi-sensei is probably the tallest and most intimidating person that Izuku has ever met, courtesy of his quirk. Despite being very obviously human, the man’s upper body is that of a great white shark. According to Izuku’s research, his arms are right around where the shark’s ribcage would swell out and the man’s back has a long arch to it that leaves his open maw hanging out the front of his button-up. His nose extends out beyond the mouth such that it hangs over his fangs, allowing him to peer down at everyone through the square glasses mounted atop his snout. The blue and white skin, mottled in all the places where a normal human would pale, is more like reptile skin than shark scales, from what Izuku can see. 

            Somehow, despite his quirk, the man seems very quiet and approachable. Izuku just hasn’t gotten over where he should look quite yet. He’s sad to say that he’s too short to really look up at the man’s eyes, considering his line of sight leaves him staring at the man’s fangs. Kurobayashi-sensei’s voice radiates from his open mouth, very clear despite the fact that his lips never move, and it’s a very formal heavy baritone. There’s a very clear rumble to the man as he speaks, as if his voice comes from something other than vocal cords. Or perhaps he has larger vocal cords somewhere and his back-

            “Midoriya Izuku-kun?”

            “Uh, yes Kurobayashi-sensei…?” Izuku bows slightly as the man blinks twice in quick succession.

            “Do you have some time? I’d like to talk about something, should you have a moment.”

            “Yes sir, of course I don’t mind, but could I ask you some questions about your quirk?” Izuku already has a notebook in his hands and tiny stars in his eyes as he stares up at his teacher. A shudder passes over the man as quiet laughter fills the room.

            “That is a rather small price to pay, as long as you’re polite. Quirks are rather personal, are they not?”

            “I’d never pry, sir, but hybrid-anthropomorphic quirks are so incredibly rare…”

            “Come then, Midoriya-kun, let’s walk and talk.”

            They make a hell of a pair walking through the halls. Izuku is used to being an outcast, but being a delinquent is new territory. Getting picked up by the cops every time they need a statement, and all his visits to the principal in tattered uniforms, has left the student body both intrigued about his quirk (that one stings more than it should, really) and horrified by what he must get up to in his free time. Pair that with the fact that THE most intimidating teacher is walking beside him and there might as well be a physical wall around the pair of them.

            Not that Izuku minds it too much at the moment. He’s mentally checking off questions from his phone notes and the profile he made for Kurobayashi-sensei in his notebooks (seriously who’d have thought his nails are made from the same material as his fangs?) as they progress out the side door and down the school’s sports fields.

            “My apologies for dragging you out after school, but I’ve been looking forward to speaking with you since last week,” Kurobayashi fits a key into the lock of the weight room that the athletes use, then flicks on the lights and strips off his coat as they enter. Izuku isn’t really shocked by the tension in the seams of the man’s shirt. He wants to ask if it’s partially from the man’s quirk (some people inherit the strength of their animal, and the Great White isn’t exactly a lightweight) but holds his tongue. “And I thought it best to catch you outside of your homeroom.”

            “You wanted to speak to me?” Izuku doesn’t like that, considering how hard he’s been trying to stay out of the spotlight. Not that it’s worked, but he’s trying. He follows the shark over to the squat racks and stands there off to one side as the man hums affirmation.

            “I’ve always enjoyed working out, you see. My wife says… well, anyways, most people don’t realize that there’s a very small community of people who enjoy body building as a sport outside of heroics. A little while ago, an acquaintance who frequents the same gym as I do told me a story while I watched his bench press,” Izuku takes the plate handed back to him without a word, listening to his teacher ramble with growing curiosity, “And we talked, seeing as it was an endurance set. He was pushing himself much harder than usual, and told me that himself, mind you. While I spotted for him, he told me that a young boy, a rather pathetic young man who was quirkless and quiet, turned to working out for a lifestyle change. I believe he mentioned that the boy didn’t want to be a hero, but simply wanted to help people. To use the strength he earned to help others in small ways…”

            The teacher hands weights back to Izuku constantly as he speaks. When Izuku finally accepts that he doesn’t know if Kurobayashi’s fin is in the right spot, he realizes that Kurobayashi-sensei is talking about him. Suddenly he’s not just speaking to a teacher, but to a teacher who knows.

            “See, that man is a member of the Police Force in this district, and I happened to think the story was rather inspirational. Another thing I realized, though, is that the quirkless population around the city is rather thin and our school had just accepted an outstanding quirkless student. One of two in the entire school. When I checked your file and asked the other teachers last week, they mentioned that you were constantly getting picked up by the Police, and I decided to pursue it.” Kurobayashi-sensei turns to look at him, and it takes Izuku a minute to realize that the man isn’t looking at him but at his right hand, where a stack of weights rests easily on his outstretched fingers.

            “That’s uh… Thirty kilograms…? Thirty by twelve that’s… three hundred and sixty…” He cringes as he counts up the plates and shifts his eyes up to the shark, who is now blinking at him way more than he probably needs to. “Y-you were saying, sensei?”

            “Well, the administration at your old middle school was very dismissive. They didn’t have anything on file for you and didn’t even remember you, until I stressed your quirklessness and your green hair, but eventually I was transferred to a Kanekō Arikechi-dono. Do you remember him?”

            “Um… He was my social studies teacher for a little while?” Izuku hums quietly, then frowns. “We only ever spoke out of class once. I, uh… needed help with something.”

            “Yes, he mentioned that. I only spoke to him over the phone, though we seemed to share the same interest in fitness.” Kurobayashi hums, removing his glasses and letting them hang from his neck by a chain, “He was rather heated once I mentioned you, and when he heard that you’d transferred into our school he seemed a bit relieved. Apparently, you made quite the impression on him. Would you like to put those away, perhaps sit down?”

            Izuku sighs and replaces the weights as his teacher gets settled, then sits on a bench press across from the man.

            “Kanekō-dono was a big long winded, I’ll admit. He spoke at length about the fact that your school and the teachers had ignored you or written you off in favor of other students. I can’t say with certainty, but he sounded very disappointed in himself when he spoke of your history. Eventually, he told me that his colleague fetched him near the end of the year to spot you, and he was shocked at your ability. Then he confirmed the story from my Police acquaintance, only with a bit more detail.”

            Izuku looks down at his hands as his teacher trails off.

            “Would you mind telling me your story, Midoriya-kun? I’m very curious.”

            “You already know my story, don’t you?” Izuku muttered, thinking back to his old school and the looks on his teacher’s faces when he lifted that bar months ago. “It would be pointless to tell it over. I’m quirkless, Sensei.”

            “And yet you rival my strength, despite only working out for a year. Unless I heard the story wrong. Even if you’d spent your whole life steeling yourself, though, I must say I find it hard to believe that a quirkless boy could effortlessly lift nearly four hundred kilograms with a single hand.” Kurobayashi chuckles a bit as he finishes, leaning his elbows against his knees to look Izuku in the eye. “I won’t push you, Midoriya-kun, but I must admit I love a good story, and I’m a bit invested in yours at the moment.”

            Izuku takes a moment to look at the man, running through his memory of their interactions and wondering if maybe there’s some sort of malice behind it all. There’s a serenity lingering around Kurobayashi-sensei that gently urges Izuku to let out a breath, clasp his hands and think back to the beginning.

            “I always wanted to be a hero. Everyone does, these days. But last year I got wrapped up in this attack, and I realized that… I’d been just sitting on the sidelines. I wasn’t really trying to become a hero at all, I just expected it to happen...” He says quietly.

It hurts admitting that. There’s so much more that he can’t put into words: How can he convey a dream with so much desperate passion? Maybe he can put together a quilt or a canvas to highlight everything he wants. All he has to do is stitch it together with his scars and dismissals, throw in a few lonely nights at the dinner table and some long detention hours.

            He starts from the beginning, working out instead of indulging his otaku tendencies, and leaves out nothing of how he went about it. Kurobayashi-sensei doesn’t comment at all, though Izuku expects him to. Comments from his old Phys ed teacher linger in his mind, along with his decision to ignore her. There’s no expression on the man’s face to stop him, so he rolls through his months of agony into the months of helping others, expanding his routine into a full body workout. He leaves out his school and how people treated him, focusing on time spent helping shop owners, studying more than ever, changing his focus from heroics to… anything else.

            Bringing up the doctors’ appointments burns his throat, but he pushes on and mentions the beach clean-up. Then he goes on to the construction sites, and the villain attacks.

            When he finally stops, he’s standing up and pacing, which means he got a little bit heated. He blushes as he turns to Kurobayashi-sensei and rubs the back of his neck.

            “Sorry if I got a little loud, sensei.”

            “No need, Midoriya-kun,” The man blinks twice, and Izuku can’t help but wonder if that isn’t intentional, now that he’s seen it for so long. The only real reaction has been the man’s eyes so far, at least. “I asked for you story, and I’m very glad that you’ve trusted me with so much.”

            “Oh.”

            “I’m only guessing, but I assume you want to keep this to yourself?”

            “Well, I’m already a bit of an outcast, Sensei. If people knew about my condition, they might be afraid of me.”

            “People are afraid of things they don’t understand, sometimes. However, I can’t say that I’d be content to leave things as they are either. Are you truly alright with how things are, Midoriya-kun?”

            “I mean…” Izuku frowns. “I wish that I’d been able to just have a normal school life, maybe go on to join the Police Force or get a job somewhere quiet. But I’m used to being like this, so I guess everything is fine.”

            “Not to be rude, Midoriya-kun, but I disagree somewhat. You’ve gone through much more than most kids your age. Being caught up in attacks so often, having to deal with adults who don’t take your safety or your wishes into account, having to worry after your parents… I wonder if that might be a bit too much.” Kurobayashi-sensei says quietly. “Sometimes, even though it’s hard, seeking help is the bravest thing a person can do. People need help on occasion.”

            Izuku frowns as he listens to the man talk. He’s heard that before, of course. Talking to people in private, without the subject of quirks, it was something he heard often. His friendly shopkeepers told him to try making friends nearly every week. A glance up at his teacher reveals absolutely nothing about the man’s position, though, so Izuku isn’t entirely sure what his teacher is looking for.

            “I don’t know what I’d ask for, honestly.” He mutters, fully expecting yet another lecture. The shark faced man stands up, extending a single mottled blue-white hand.

            “Midoriya-kun, you’ve been looking for some way to add weight lifting to your routine, yes?” He nods, earning a few blinks and a low growl from the shark. “Then allow me to assist you on that front.”

            “What?”

            “Three days a week, I’ll teach you to use the equipment here in this gym,” The hand sweeps across the racks and sleds and benches, leading Izuku’s eyes to the mirrored wall on the right side of the door. “And we will go over some of the things I have managed to pick up during my years of training.”

            “I r-really couldn’t, the school wouldn’t…”

            “Leave that to me. I’ll speak to the principal personally, and we’ll get everything settled. Sponsoring you would make me feel much more accomplished than if I simply left you to your own devices.” The man hums with an air of happiness in his voice. “Teaching the next generation how to properly strengthen themselves is what good athletes love the most! Sharing a gym and a dream make people a family, Midoriya-kun.”

            Izuku stares up at the man with wide eyes. No one… hardly anyone he’s ever met has simply thrown such a generous offer at him. Occasionally strokes of good luck would strike him, but this was insane.

            He’s been looking for a way to start lifting weights, sure. This is a huge blessing, but can he really ask his teacher to do that? After a moment of spiraling, he looks up at his Sensei and speaks, despite the growing pressure in his chest.

            “What would you do, Sensei?”

            “If you have the time to spare, Midoriya-kun, this is an agreement that would benefit us both. Try doing what you want instead of worrying about me.” Kurobayashi says, blinking once. Izuku blinks in return, earning another blink for his trouble. “Would you like for me to teach you how to properly train yourself, Midoriya-kun?”

            He stands up and takes his Sensei’s hand before he can think about it much more, because this is what he was looking for. Refusing such a generous offer would leave him regretting it, on top of being incredibly rude to the man offering him the chance.

            “If you don’t mind, Sensei… teach me everything you know.”

            Izuku barely manages a grin when Kurobayashi smiles, because the image will definitely haunt him for the rest of his life. But he’s not one to look a gift… shark… Never mind.

           -

            In the last year, Izuku has been studying a lot more. He had always been on top of things, keeping a firm rank three in his middle school and now holding rank two in his current school. For the last six months or so, though, he’s been studying MORE as well as studying more often.

            There are exactly twenty-six different (mass produced, mind you) history texts that have conflicting information about the Emergence Era the period immediately following the rise of quirks. Izuku has read all of them, and despite the worrying amount of information those texts had left out, they all agreed on one thing: if not for the rapid demilitarization occurring right before the rise of quirks, the world might have fallen into collapse.  

            Quirks, as revolutionary and incredible as they are, do not mix well with competitive sports. Izuku knows this firsthand, secondhand and thirdhand. Now he knows it fourth-hand… is that a thing? Like, he’s reading the books, and there’s that whole “fourth wall” thing. Maybe he isn’t an expert but reading that much history and building your own timeline should make Izuku somewhat of an expert, even if his notes will never see the light of day. And even if he does have his own timeline, he won’t ever get to talk to someone who’s been there. Knowing humanity, anyone with an immortality quirk would have come out and said something.

            Anyways. Quirks. Emergence Era.

            When some people have speed and strength beyond normal, you needed more rules to keep things fair. While world borders strained and governments did their very best not to collapse under the sudden change in demographics, world relations very nearly crumbled to nothing.

            Countries turned their eyes inward, rather than worrying about international affairs. Worldwide competitions like the Olympics just couldn’t survive in that environment.

            Several years after the rise of quirks, when heroics was firmly cemented as a job, U.A. decided to capitalize on the lack of a national sensation.

            At least, from what he’s read, that’s Izuku’s best approximation of how Japan ended up frothing at the mouth over a bunch of high school students fighting over a gold medal.

            Any other year, Izuku would be sitting at home, pumped full of caffeine with a stack of notebooks ready. He’d probably have his computer ready to replay slow motion and take screen captures, and there would be a tab open to his favorite chatroom.

            This is not any other year.

             When Golden Week started, just after his talk with Kurobayashi-sensei, Izuku got an email from an old friend. After transferring a decent amount of virtual currency to the return address as a thank you, Izuku spent most of his week off studying the files that he’d downloaded. From there, following the news on the Hero Killer Stain was pretty natural.

            This year, instead of being glued to his couch, Izuku is wandering the streets of Hosu. His attention is split between putting pins in a map and watching the live broadcast on his phone. 

            U.A. really ramped up their surveillance of the festival this year, so he’s nose deep in his phone screen when he hears a car honk at him. After a rush of wind and a blur, Izuku is left standing safely on the other side of the intersection with a girlish shriek in his throat.

            “Ingenium?!” The display of phone fumbling is impressive, in his opinion. Six bounces is a new personal best considering the lack of damage. Meanwhile, the armored hero wags a finger at him, eyes openly displaying his mirth at the show.

            “Hey! You should really watch where you’re going, young civilian! You really know your stuff if you’re recognizing me on the street!” Ingenium’s armor looks pretty cool up close. Seeing the exhausts from his arms is interesting, because it doesn’t look like normal exhaust pipes… instead they almost look rifled? That doesn’t make sense.

            “Ah, s-sorry, I was watching the spoRTS FESTIVAL WAIT A SECOND HE’S YOUR BROTHER ISN’T HE?!” Izuku isn’t proud of screeching like that. He’s not. Ingenium looks downright terrified for a moment before he turns his eyes to the paused section of the video.

            Then Ingenium lights up. Izuku stares blankly as one of his heroes turns into a fucking fanboy.

            “TENYA! Oh, is that his match?! He paired up with the Todoroki boy, eh? That’s a bold move, but he’s sure to get through the cavalry battle! This is a replay, right? My team is supposed to update me, but they can’t watch the whole time, you know. Could you play the video, if you don’t mind? I would really appreciate it!”

            “W-would you tell me about your quirk while you’re here…?” Izuku whispers hoarsely, already rewinding the clips with shaking hands. The hero hums for a moment before he laughs.

            “You’re a fan, hmmm? Promise you won’t tell anyone else?” Izuku nearly breaks his neck to nod, and Ingenium laughs as they walk to a nearby bench. “Okay, okay! Only this once, for a fan! For someone doing me a favor, at least. Now, let’s see. He didn’t do so great in the obstacle race; I was a little bit worried…”

           -

            His mom stares at him blank faced for a long time when he finally asks for permission to put his plan into motion. Truthfully, he doesn’t expect her to agree. But they’ve been doing this for a while now, and he feels horrible just… waiting. Going probably won’t actually accomplish anything, but he doesn’t like sitting on a profile and knowing that the police won’t take him seriously.

            And… there’s something about the reports that bothers him. Not any one thing, not even a particular statistic… This is something coiling in his gut like a spring. Something he can’t put his finger on. Call it a hunch, or a premonition.  

            “Let me get this straight, Izuku...” She sighs, digging her fingers into the bags under her eyes, “You want me to… willingly let you stay out past curfew… and travel a prefecture over, to Hosu City, for an entire night. So that you can chase down a wanted murderer.”

            Izuku thinks about it, then frowns.

            “Well, um. Actually, I’m a bit worried about the train fare? I’ve saved some money from working with Smith-san, but it may not be enough to stay over the night in Hosu and the return trip.” They stare at one another for another few minutes.

            “You want me to pay you so that you can go and chase a wanted murderer around a different city for a night?” She asks again, still looking unconvinced.

            “Yes please.”

            Izuku watches his mother stare at him, only moving to blink, for several minutes. He wonders if she knows that she’s basically a shark, in his mind, and how that sort of thing might go over if he said it out loud. For a terrifying moment it hovers on the tip of his tongue, but then he swallows it and wets his lips.

            “Um… I guess that’s a no?” He flinches instinctively when her eyes widen far, far past normal width.

            “Izuku, honey, WHAT are you THINKING?!?”

           -

            The only issue with hunting for Stain is that the Hero Killer only attacks at night. Which means that Izuku will have to be out past curfew, stuck in a different prefecture, while hunting a serial killer.

            It isn’t the best pitch. Needless to say, his mom doesn’t take it well. She buys a bottle of wine and tries to sneak a bottle of whiskey into the house. Izuku doesn’t appreciate that, but she doesn’t say no. After another few days to work up the train fare, and he decides that giving his mom a heart attack by asking outright again probably isn’t the best idea.

            He leaves a note on his desk and sets off with a full backpack, stuffed with two changes of clothes. It’s not like he can’t handle on night out of the house.

He’s fifteen, for crying out loud.

            After almost seven years crawling the streets of Musutafu for heroes, Izuku knows his home city fairly well. Hosu city is different, but not… different. It’s still a city; people are still going about their business. The flow is just different enough that he feels out of his element without really knowing why.

            Maybe it’s nerves. He’s prowling for a serial killer this time, not heroes.

            Taking a day out of school isn’t really that hard, but he doesn’t have more than one, so he wanders the edges of the commercial distracts, tracing the lines between residential and business sections. Pins go into his map for him to return to later, but he never lingers more than a few minutes in each part of the city.

            His profile puts Stain somewhere just outside the central districts of the city. Certain portions of the city have connecting alleys, and when Izuku cross references the layout with new hero patrol routes he’s got a handful of likely sites. The problem is that he has a handful of possibilities and he’s on foot.

            The day passes without an attack. Izuku takes it as a blessing, despite the tightening sickness in his gut.

            His night gear is simple: one of his older workout sets has reflectors taped on and his hair gets stuffed into a ballcap. Everything else gets stuffed into a backpack for his inevitable return home after the late patrols. No one in Hosu dares patrol more than necessary early in the mornings, and their numbers are so heavily reinforced that Stain wouldn’t dare take anyone then.

            His phone rings after his third busted location, and Izuku answers it with shaking hands.

            “Hello?”

            “Midoriya-kun…? This is Midoriya Izuku-kun, right?” Izuku stops in his tracks when he hears the voice coming through the line. He hasn’t forgotten, exactly, but he’d been a lot more focused on the detective’s quirk at the time.

            “Y-yes, this is Midoriya Izuku, Detective-san. Is… Ah, I’m sorry, I’ve forgotten your name…?”

            “Tsukauchi. Midoriya-kun, I just got a call from the police over in Hosu. Apparently, your mother called in a tip that you’d be out past our mandatory curfew looking for trouble. Normally the uniforms would go looking, but your name is a bit of a flag in our system right now, so they called me.”

            “Wait, you flagged me? Doesn’t that mean I’m a person of interest?” Izuku blinks. “Tsukauchi-san, I’m going out on a limb to say your quirk works over the phone? Most quirks don’t, but you’re a detective and they seem pretty reliant…”

            “No, unfortunately. I’m just a regular detective making a call as a favor to a worried mother. Midoriya-kun, are you in Hosu?”

            “…Would I be in trouble if I was?” He mutters.

            “Your mother claims that you haven’t run off, but minors are supposed to be indoors by now. Technically this is truancy, or disobedience. I forget the exact clause.”

            “According to the selective administration of regional activity restrictions, a minor can be fined, placed in juvenile detention facilities or be subject to disciplinary action courtesy of the school authorities, depending on the circumstances of the arrest and the authority of the minor’s guardians.” Izuku recites offhand.

            “…Yes, that’s almost exactly right. Word for word, actually. Midoriya-kun, how did you…?”

            “Detective-san,” Izuku winces as he cuts the man off, stepping off the main sidewalk so that he’s leaning against an alcove with his phone tucked between shoulder and cheek. His backpack is already in one hand while the other fishes for the Stain profile and his law enforcement notes. “Can I ask you something? Something off the record?”

            “I’ll admit you’ve got me curious, Midoriya-kun. What’s on your mind?”

            “Let’s say… Have you ever had a possible lead on something? A lead that wasn’t anything special, just a bit of a hunch. Something that you noticed, but couldn’t phrase correctly enough that people would listen?” Izuku frowns as he stares down at his profile notebook.

            “Well, I’ve seen it happen a few times. A good friend of mine has this intuition that’s nearly inhuman… frankly, I’d kill for half of his ability. But most of the time, police force members aren’t allowed to move on a hunch like that. Is that the sort of thing you mean?”

            “Yes. I have a friend like that, too.” His eyes close as the memories burn just a touch and he slips into old habits. “Um, an old acquaintance, I mean. Not a friend. Someone I knew.”

            “Right. So, would you like to tell me what’s going on, Midoriya-kun?”

            “Are you going to arrest me for pursuing a police investigation?”

            “That’s a bold claim. Firstly, could you tell me something? Do you get involved in everything on purpose? Your file is… honestly, this is a bit extreme for just bad luck. Especially considering your situation.”

            “Situation?” Izuku frowns. “You mean the quirklessness.”

            The silence draws out. Izuku drops the profile notebook and grabs his flashlight instead, stalking back onto the sidewalk with new purpose.

            “You’re probably right, Detective-san,” Izuku says bitterly. “But I can’t do much about it unless you want me on house arrest. Even then, I’d just be stuck inside with a bunch of free time on my hands instead of pursuing a lead.”

            “You’ve said that a few times, Midoriya-kun, what kind of lead…”

            “I know where the Hero Killer is going to strike next, Detective-san,” Izuku mutters, shining his flashlight down another alley and mentally checking off the pin in his maps.

            “Stain? Midoriya-kun…!” Izuku speaks over the man despite how much he wants to apologize, letting the words flood out as if he were talking to himself, not the detective. Somehow that makes it a bit easier, though he still feels shame for the way he’s treating the man.

            “At the very least, I have an idea of where, and how, and when. But something tells me that you aren’t taking this seriously, so you won’t believe me in the first place, and honestly being on the phone while I’m out looking for a serial killer is probably a bad idea, so I’m going to hang up now. Don’t worry, I’ll be home before anyone realizes that I’m out here. It’s probably nothing, but I can’t just sit on this… and none of you will take me seriously. Good night, Detective-san.”

            He hits the button and sighs heavily. Sickening heat churns through his gut: a mix of shame for his actions and restlessness in the face of doing nothing with his information, but mostly… Mostly he’s hurt.

            Sure, he’s quirkless. He also may or may not be immortal. Getting grounded is definitely something to avoid but he doesn’t have time to play word tag with the lie-detector-detective and definitely doesn’t need this eerie sensation of being… parented. Coming from a guy he barely knows, it’s just weird.

            He turns down the fifteenth alley when he sees a flash of metal and a hero lying in a puddle of blood.

            As three minds each try to figure out what Izuku has just walked into, an image is burned into Izuku’s mind. Stain is a little taller than average, made of thin limbs wrapped in bandages, leather and bloodstained scarlet fabric. The Hero-Killer is reeling back from his kill as Izuku panics and throws the first thing on hand.

            The flashlight.

            Stain picks heroes off for one on one confrontations a majority of the time. Victims are found just outside of the public eye, in between public areas and city maintenance areas. Native has a tracking quirk which means that he’s probably faster than average, and Stain managed to lure Native into the alleys instead of taking him on with backup. Blades fit the profile but carrying that many has drawbacks unless there’s a Quirk application. Cuts, blood, skin contact, motion amplification, force amplification, status effects…

            The flashlight is still spinning overhead as they meet in the middle.

            Izuku is halfway down the alley when the light comes back around. Stain’s blade is mid-swing, poised to take Izuku’s head from his shoulders before Native has a chance to cry out. The blade breaks against Izuku’s forearm and bounces off his neck, howling as it flips into the space between them, and Stain is gone with the pieces before the light finally passes overhead.

            “Flee, boy,” Stain snarls. Buckles pop as knives fill the air between them. Izuku’s teeth grind as he snatches them out of the air. “I already have my prey for the night, don’t be a fool!”

            The flashlight clatters against the pavement when Izuku throws the killer’s knives into the air behind him and reaches out to parry the man’s wakizashi. Panic fills him every time he parries a blade barehanded. A tiny voice in the back of his mind rocks back and worth, whispering “what if” over and over.

He can’t see Stain move. He can only see the attacks carving through the alley. Between action and reaction, he can trace the orange glow left along the blades, as if burning the air might break their limit.

            Izuku’s hands meet the blades until he can see the afterimages of his fists and Stain’s arms. Eventually, though, Stain gets through. The wakizashi slips through his guard and slams against Izuku’s ribs hard enough that it shatters the blade. A yelp escapes him as he skids back, running a hand over his side.

            “Whatever your quirk is, it must be powerful. But at your age you could only be a sidekick. Don’t let yourself be chained to his ilk,” Stain mutters, dropping his ruined blades to draw new ones. The pair of them glance towards the hero bleeding out against the wall before they fall back into step. “Leave me be, and I’ll ignore this. You don’t need to die tonight.”

            “Sorry, but I don’t plan on just walking off.” Izuku’s voice rises as he assumes a rough stance. The second katana rises from Stain’s back silently as the villain shrugs.

            “My warning was fair. If you stay, you die.”

            Izuku doesn’t have time to blink. Stain is on him, katana flying towards his neck, in a heartbeat. He catches the blade on his forearm, then his knee and finally on his elbow. The alley shudders when Stain’s blade draws back and the air between them collapses into the wake of the assault.  

            Stain leaps back, then up, bouncing off the walls to bring his sword down like a guillotine. Izuku’s eyes widen, tracing the edge of the blade as orange brightens to yellow and the air between them begins to hiss. His shoulder is already slack, twisting backward as his hand rises to meet the attack.

            The world begins to fade as the blade snaps between his fingers.

            His enemy lands and leaps back in the same step.

            Izuku doesn’t mean to flip. He’s already in the air, passing Stain as the Hero-Killer lands and twists out of the way, overshooting the mark so that he lands with his back to the enemy. A leg rises as his shoulders roll back, bringing his foot down where Stain’s head should be with enough force to leave him buried up to his calf in pavement. Stain leers at him from the shadows near the mouth of the alley, hesitating for the first time since Izuku threw the flashlight.

            “You… You can keep up with my speed. Speed that only All Might can attain.” Stain growls. Izuku squints at him and pulls his ankle from the rubble.

            “Uh… That’s kind of… self-serving? I’ve met him. You’re nowhere close to that level.” Izuku huffs and kicks to shake the rubble from his sock.

            “What’s your name, boy?”

            “What the hell happened to your nose?” Izuku snorts. “You seriously think I’m going to tell a serial killer my name? I’m young I’m not stupid. Give it up already, I need to get this guy to a hospital.”

            “I would know the name of my rival.” Stain growls, taking a pair of knives from his waist holsters. “Or I can take the moment to kill that man, and return to our fight…”

            “I’m nobody important. Just a screw up.” Izuku sighs. “Definitely not your rival, or whatever. Pick some hero kid for that.”

            “Are you not a hero?” Stain’s eyes narrow. “You came to fight me without a license? Are you a vigilante, or a villain perhaps? What kind of villain…”

            “I’m just a kid!” Izuku snaps, clenching his fists. “Just a kid who figured out your MO, who couldn’t sit back and let you do what you wanted! Leave him alone!”

            “…Tell me your name, and I’ll leave that miserable piece of garbage to you.” Stain growls quietly, sheathing his knives and drawing his wakizashi. Before Izuku has a chance to speak Stain’s drawn the blade over his hand and let the blood spill onto the pavement between them. “You… Someone like you is worth more than a hundred of his kind, and your name worth his life at least.”

            “I… I don’t have… Look, I’m not a hero! I don’t have time for this…” Izuku runs a hand over his face, then shakes his head. Stain’s blade darts out and Izuku panics. The world freezes just long enough for him to scream, just long enough that his entire body burns as he chokes out the first thing that comes to mind. “Just call me Deku!”

            “Deku… A strange name, for someone blessed by the gods. Very well, Deku. His life is yours, and you… I’ll find you again. You may very well be the only one who can face me in battle and live. My appointed enemy…!”

            “I don’t have time for this!” Izuku is already sprinting to Native and tearing out of the alley in a sprint. When he realizes how cold the hero is, he puts a little more force into his step, damn the consequences.

           -

            He doesn’t check the time until he’s dumped Native in the nearest emergency care ward. All in all, his confrontation with the Hero Killer barely took twenty minutes. That revelation alone destroys him for a moment, either because the fight is a blur or because it feels as though he’s aged a lifetime in those twenty minutes.

            Eventually he drags himself off his bench, thanks it for supporting him in his time of need, and trudges back into the city. He misses the last train, opens the map on his phone and stumbles back to the edge of the city. Once he’s sure that he’s got a straight shot to Musutafu and he’s secured his belongings, he puts a little pep in his step and breaks into a dead sprint in what SHOULD be the direction of his apartment.

            Needless to say, his mother is not happy when he returns. She’s also a bit tipsy, which is something he decides to deal with later. He tucks her into bed with a kiss and lays in his own for an hour, thinking about what Stain said.

            A gift from the gods…? Speed like All Might… He thinks, staring at the ceiling. I’m quirkless and grounded. The gods need to pick better heroes.

           -

            For the first time in a long time, Izuku wakes up to a fresh breakfast of agony. He’s mostly numb to it, though it’s been long enough that he shuffles into the shower like an old man. A hot bath kicks the pain into the back of his mind where it waits like a snarling animal.

            School passes in a blur. He takes notes and answers questions without thinking, force feeds himself a meal and does it all over again. By the time the final bell rings, he fully intends to tell Kurobayashi-sensei that he can’t train today.

            Instead he finds Kurobayashi-sensei waiting in the weight room beside a metal contraption that vaguely resembles a person. He knows better than to start a staring contest with his teacher, but after a brief inspection of the machine he stares up at his teacher knowing full well that he won’t win.

            “Uh. Sensei… Did you get this for me?”

            “Yes, Midoriya-kun.” Kurobayashi-sensei’s voice lilts as the man blinks twice in quick succession. After weeks of training, Izuku can firmly say that the man blinks to express all types of things but knowing doesn’t make it less jarring. It’s all he can do to smile when the man turns to the machine. “This is a device that we often use with small children who possess strength quirks. A friend of mine who helps out with support gear took this one and tweaked it. Apparently, this should help with your applications of force.”

            Izuku frowns. The contraption looked like a person, from the elbows to the shoulders and neck down to the thighs. A small screen sits behind a sheet of plastic in the middle of the chest, and the metal is pretty seamless. Red and green circles are painted over certain spots that Izuku vaguely recognizes (kidneys, heart, lungs, arteries and joints) but overall it doesn’t look like more than a metal mannequin.

            “So, what, I’m supposed to punch it?” Izuku waves at it, glancing towards his teacher.

            “Well, that wouldn’t be a great start, no. Here, let me…” Kurobayashi is surprisingly adept at moving slowly, something he’s worked with Izuku for over the past two weeks. “Moving slowly” doesn’t quite do the man justice, though. Considering the size of his frame and the odd way his snout juts from his shoulders, Izuku is sure that he’s spent his entire life learning how to do simple things.

            Like reaching for the switch at the base of the mannequin.

            The screen flashes to life with a bouncing smiley face. Izuku frowns while Kurobayashi-sensei rumbles happily.

            “Um…?”

            “From what I’ve been told, this device will measure the force applied anywhere you touch the frame. If you put too much force, the device will make a sound. It also measures where you put that force, and how it’s distributed. The green face will change to a yellow or a red if you knock the person unconscious or kill them, respectively.” Kurobayashi-sensei recites, sliding out of the way and crossing his arms as he stares at the device. “My advice would be to start off with a simple touch, and slowly increase the pressure until you have a good understanding of what you can afford.”

            Izuku does his best to swallow the knots in his throat. His body throbs as he recalls Stain’s blades shattering under his fingers. The small part of him that still can’t believe in his powers is so much louder now than it was when lives were on the line.

            “I… I’m really, really grateful, Kurobayashi-sensei. But… I’m mostly invulnerable, and more than fast enough to run. Is learning to attack really something… I mean, what if I lose control and kill someone by accident?” He trails off near the end, staring down at his hands.

            “Midoriya-kun,” Kurobayashi-sensei hums, laying a hand on his shoulder. “Why do you help others?”

            “I… Why not?” Izuku slides the man’s hand off his shoulder and stares at him as if the question itself is insulting. “What’s wrong with helping others if you can? Even if you can’t, why shouldn’t I help people?”

            Kurobayashi-sensei rumbles and turns, taking a seat on one of the benches so that they’re eye to eye. He crosses one leg over the other, folds his hands and peers over the frame of his glasses.

            “Perhaps you are safe, young Midoriya. Perhaps you’ll never be in any danger at all, or else your gifts will protect you from all the bad luck this world can throw at you. Were you anyone else, I could be convinced that you were capable of hiding,” Kurobayashi-sensei says. “But I have the pleasure of knowing you better than that, Midoriya-kun. You are brave enough to throw yourself into battle for the undeserving. You help others without question, without stopping to consider if you can or the task is beyond you. The fact that you worry for others is admirable, and it speaks worlds of your character. But neither of us are stupid. You don’t know what’s happening to you. I don’t believe that anyone can run from their problems forever, Midoriya… And our world is rather dramatic. When your troubles catch up to you, I fear that they will involve others, no matter how hard you try. So!”

            Izuku’s eyes burn as he thinks back to the day this started. Tears well as he thinks of the shopkeepers along his jogging route. His hands shake when he remembers Native’s blood dripping from his hands in the lobby of a hospital. When he thinks of his mother, of everything he’s already put her through, he wipes his eyes and takes a shaky breath.

            “Let’s not think of this as learning to fight, Midoriya-kun,” Kurobayashi-sensei doesn’t speak until he’s sure Izuku is ready. He stands and takes a deep breath clenching his fists hard enough that his entire body shudders. “Learn the limits of your gifts so that you may use them for the sake of others. That has always been your strong suit, has it not?”

            Izuku grins and sniffles a bit, still fighting back tears as he nods. When he turns back to the machine, he thinks of All Might. The number one hero surely had to do something like this, right?

            Save everyone… He digs in deep, trying his best to engrave the words into his soul. Save anyone and everyone you can, however you can, no matter what it costs you.

            “Let’s work on your form, Midoriya-kun,” Kurobayashi-sensei rumbles happily, blinking quickly as he gently corrects Izuku’s stance. “If you break your own hand punching something then you’re the only one to blame.”

            “You know how to fight, sensei?” Izuku mumbles curiously.

            “People will pay good money to see a shark in the ring, Midoriya-kun,” He nudges Izuku’s foot out a tad, then taps his knee until Izuku slides backward. “And I was a bit overzealous when I was saving to propose to my wife.”

Chapter Text

        4: Impact

           His mother warned him not to get too caught up in his mumble storms. After the incident with Ingenium, and with the slough of other incidents to his name, he really should have learned by now.

        This one isn’t entirely his fault, of course, but no one is going to admit that.

        One day after his session with Kurobayashi-sensei, he’s walking down the street caught up in imagining the limits of his strength. Not the unlimited aspect of his strength, but the level he can use against other people (or buildings, gods forbid). They’ve been doing the strength limiter training for almost four days now, and he’s nearly accustomed to the ‘limiter’ that he needs.

        “HEY!”

        The pressure of something metallic, and circular, presses against his back, and Izuku looks up for the first time in a few blocks. Of course, when he looks up, he looks into the scared eyes of a group of hostages, and turns around to find someone pressing a shotgun into one of his kidneys (that’s about right, isn’t it? To the left and right of the spine…?) looking… more than a little upset, and maybe a bit confused.

        “Oh. Is this a robbery? …I wandered into a robbery, didn’t I?”

        “Yeah. Get in the fucking circle, dumbass.” The one with the shotgun seems to the be the leader, so Izuku shrugs and wanders over to the circle. Before he can sit down, though, he notices an old woman near the edge, shifting around uncomfortably. Izuku sighs turns and wanders towards the edge of the store with his hands up.

        “Uh, gimme a sec…”

        “Kid, did you not fucking hear me? Sit the fuck…”

        “I did! I’m going, I just, she needs a chair!” Izuku frowns at the lizard-quirk-person, lifting a padded chair in one hand and cocking an eyebrow. “Do you want your hostages complaining?”

        “I like them docile and not batshit insane, thanks.” The leader growls, pressing the shotgun into his gut again. Izuku snorts, then pushes the muzzle away and walks back to the circle. Once he’s got the old woman situated, he notices the mother comforting her child and pinches his lip. It isn’t until the mom stuffs some of her blouse into the child’s mouth that he decides he can’t really ignore it.

        The leader gapes at him when he stands up again, and points at one of the villains.

        “Hey, he really doesn’t want me to move, so could you do us all a favor? See that stroller?” The villain blinks in shock, then points to a stroller, only Izuku to point at a different one, “No, that one. Yeah. Can you just…? Thanks!”

        Hefting the stroller by a cross section, Izuku waddles it through the crowd to the mother, who looks at him gratefully, with a little bit of caution that Izuku chooses to ignore. The baby quiets down when she receives her pacifier and blanket. Once he’s told the mother how cute the little girl is, he wanders back towards the edge of the circle and sits down, trying his best to ignore the people staring at him.

        “Hey, kid. I’m curious. How the fuck do you wander into a hostage situation?” The leader finally growls, looking too confused at Izuku’s situation to keep his mouth shut and just let things play out. Izuku sighs.

        “I just had a lot on my mind. And, uh… I think the officers let me wander in here on purpose, honestly.” The looks he gets from the villains are mixed. He tries not to dwell on the pair who look at him with pity in their eyes.

        “The police let a civilian wander in here on purpose? What, you got some crazy quirk?” The leader has the shotgun pointed at him this time, right at his eyes, and Izuku is almost curious to know how it would look.

        “Uh, no. I’m quirkless actually…”

        The leader gapes at that, then offhandedly mutters, “You got a death wish?”

        Izuku glances towards the flashing lights on the police cars outside, then back at the shotgun.

        “I mean… I’m not actively trying not to die…?” Izuku shrugs. The leader frowns. His frown digs into his cheeks so much that the blue-green scales on his face make deep valleys in the bags hanging off his skin, and his eyelids narrow down in what can only be described as a ridiculously dramatic squint.

        “You’re an informant, aren’t you?”

        “No, I really did just wander in here by accident. This is the closest shop to school that has discount track suits.”

        “What kind of excuse is that? A quirkless kid wanders into a hold up, helps out the hostages, doesn’t bat an eye at having a shotgun in his face? Yeah right!” Izuku shoots to his feet as the thug’s stance changes, ready to actually fire the gun. “I’m not going in without a fight, especially not on some stupid…”

        A blast tears through the shop, and Izuku actually skids backward a bit as the shrapnel from the shot tears into his gut. Thankfully, because of the distance, the burst is concentrated in his stomach and shreds his uniform, leaving Izuku gaping at the villain.

        “Do you know how much these things cost?!” The panicked expression on the villain’s face is enough warning. Before the second shot goes off, Izuku moves.

He can’t control how fast he is very well, or how much force is behind his steps, but the green, black and blue blur racing through the store manages to catch each of the six villains and knock them out of sorts before it tumbles over a discarded weapon and slams into a display with enough force to knock over the shelves. When the police storm the place, seeing the disturbance, they find the six disoriented villains and the crowd all staring at Izuku, lying on his shoulders with his feet in the air and a frustrated look on his face.

        Two of them he recognizes from other scenes. One of them is in his phone as a police contact.

        “You guys should be ashamed of yourselves.” Izuku sighs.

-

        Izuku hates it when the adults in his life are right. Not out of spite, or because he wishes he were older. He hates their tendency to be right about things that he doesn’t want to deal with.

        His hesitation left the villains awake enough to struggle, though they were definitely sore from the blows, and it gave him just enough responsibility for the situation that Deathgoro (who arrived too late to do anything in the first place) ends up pulling him aside for a lecture on measuring one’s strength. Getting a lecture both from the hero, and from the disembodied shark voice in his own head, does nothing for his mood.

        “I’ve seen you too many times in the past few months, you know that?” The hero growls, looking down at him with a firm frown. “And now, you go pulling something like this. What would you have done if you’d killed someone, or if you hadn’t been fast enough? In a hostage situation, your job is…”

        “To sit there and not cause trouble.” Izuku sighs. Deathgoro’s frown is even more stern, now, and he jabs a meaty finger into Izuku’s chest.

        “Quiet, kid. No matter what, using your quirk without a license is illegal, and you endangered everyone in the building by doing what you did.”

        “Okay, look, you weren’t even there!” Izuku snaps, because this is the third time he’s been lectured by a hero in a year, and today is the worst possible day to deal with this particular one (though there’s one Izuku would probably like seeing even less). “I wasn’t escalating the situation. The police let me wander into the scene, and I was minding my own business playing damsel in distress, but he thought I was a cop because they did that instead of following procedure! And for the last time, I DON’T HAVE A QUIRK!”

        Izuku doesn’t glare at the hero, but he slaps a hand across his chest and frowns.

        “If you’ll excuse me, I need to get home and change and figure out how to pay for another school uniform, considering I was just SHOT.” Izuku takes a little pleasure in the expression on the hero’s face as he storms off, knowing that he’ll get another police visit tonight and his mom will give him a look and his wallet probably can’t handle the cost of the uniform.

        Before he can leave the scene, one of the hostages, a girl he doesn’t recognize wearing a uniform he definitely recognizes, catches him by the shoulder.

        “Excuse me!” Izuku frowns in her direction, then panics (because this girl goes to his school and why the hell is she talking to him?!). She doesn’t seem to notice and smiles at him nervously as she starts talking. “I just wanted to thank you! You were really cool in there, and I recognized your uniform, but I thought, maybe, I should introduce myself, you know? I’m Tachibana Konomi, class 1-D.”

        Izuku hadn’t seen her on campus before, but that didn’t say much since he was basically ignored by most of the student body and completely avoided by his classmates. Spending time on campus was limited to class, lunch in the classroom and gym time with Kurobayashi-sensei. And, if he was honest, he wouldn’t have noticed her. Tachinbana-san was cute, but not the type that Izuku could ever dare to approach. Chestnut colored hair pulled back by a blue headband, heterochromatic eyes (one flashing sharp red and the other impossibly rich blue) and a height that left her slightly shorter than him made her about as average as he was, in the grand scheme of things.

        Not that Izuku could consider himself average anymore.  

        Her eyes changed, turning yellow gold in-between blinks, and Izuku shook made a little noise of shock at the change. She frowned.

        “Oh, sorry. My quirk changes my eye color. Um, I need to get going, I just wanted to say thank you. Really. I hope you’re okay!”

        Izuku watched her dart off into the mess, leaving him to sigh and curse himself for freezing up just because a girl spoke to him.

        (If it wasn’t bad enough, his mother’s reaction was a stifled laugh and an awkward pat on the shoulder. At least he knew they were related.)

-

        Going to school was nothing more than routine, despite being more than two months into the first term. The only real break he got from being a pariah was his times with Kurobayashi-sensei. Kurobayashi-sensei is more of the quiet type, and Izuku appreciates that. Usually they share no more than a nod when they see one another before a training session. Walking beside the man leaves an even wider wake than Izuku usually leaves but the presence is calming. Of course they would avoid the pair. It isn’t just Izuku when there’s an anthropomorphic great white shark involved.

        “You!”

        Izuku yelps as a finger is thrust out of the crowd, hovering a centimeter from his nose. Staring down the finger leads him straight to a pair of eerily familiar emerald eyes.

        “E-e-ehhh?!”

        “Ah, Midoriya-kun, you know this student?” Kurobayashi rumbles.

        “Huh?!”

        “Kurobayashi-sensei, is he in trouble? Is he really a delinquent?!” Tachibana almost looks like she’s pleading, completely losing the angry set to her eyes as she turns to their teacher. Izuku glances back and forth between the two as the crowd starts to chatter. Whispers may as well be laughter in his ears, dialing up the blush on his cheeks until his ears might actually catch on fire from the heat.

        “Midoriya-kun is a model student. Anyone who believes him to be a delinquent is someone a I would very much like to have a word with.” Kurobayashi-sensei’s voice overtakes the crowd, causing many of the students to flee. Izuku probably would have too, if he didn’t know the man. That was definitely the loudest he’d ever heard the teacher speak, and it had an edge to it. He swallowed against the knot forming in his throat.

        “So… You’re not a delinquent?” Tachibana frowns at him.

        “O-of course not…” Izuku stammers. “I’m used to people saying things like that, though. I never told anyone anything different, I guess.”

        “Midoriya-kun, sometimes you’re a bit too quiet for your own good.” Kurobayashi blinks twice, the way he does when he’s happy or cheeky, and Izuku shrinks a bit at the way he says it.

        “Well, I’m glad my hero isn’t a delinquent, but your character could stand a bit more…” Tachibana sighs, “I don’t know. You’re awfully plain for a hero.”

        “I’m n-not a h-h-hero!” Izuku yelps. Tachibana raises an eyebrow, eyes flashing a vivid purple hue. “R-really, I’m quirkless, first of all, and second of all I’m… I mean, I just wandered into that situation by accident. What kind of hero…”

        “Perhaps we should talk more in private, students?” Kurobayashi-sensei’s tone lowers, and the man’s snout leans down a bit more, leaving Izuku staring straight into his teacher’s inky black eyes. “I’d very much like to hear about this… incident, Midoriya-kun.”

        “A-ah…”

        “Well, I have the time, I guess. I’ll message my friends that I’m staying a bit later.” Tachibana sighs, whipping out her phone with grace that Izuku envies. Her smile is sly as she follows their teacher down the hall. “Besides, I don’t believe that whole quirkless thing for a second!”

-

        “I was just there with a friend to buy a new charm for her school bag. We had barely been in the shop for a few minutes when the villains came storming in and rounding everyone up! We were panicking, everyone was really scared because the leader kept talking about shooting someone, but then after like a half an hour Midoriya-kun came wandering into the shop out of nowhere…” Tachibana chuckles at the memory, because apparently Izuku’s blush and groan are amusing, “He came in kinda out of it, talking to himself and staring at his hands. For like, a few minutes, we just stared as he wandered around the store. Then the leader of it all walks over and points a shotgun at him, asks what he’s doing, and Midoriya-kun goes ‘Oh, I wandered into a robbery again, didn’t I?’”

        “I did not! That was the first time, sensei, I swear!” Izuku isn’t sure why his voice is so whiny. The shark blinks at him, then turns back the girl.

        “He said that?”

        “He did!” The way Tachibana grins at him has to be betrayal. It’s wispier than he remembers the last time he felt it, but definitely (probably) betrayal. “So he’s going to sit down, and everyone is staring at him wondering what the hell this weird kid is doing, or at least I was, and he just stops. After a little bit he starts walking out of the circle. The leader stops him right as he grabs this chair and Midoriya-kun goes ‘you don’t want your hostages complaining, do you?’, and the leader looks at him dead in the eye and says, ‘I like them docile and not crazy’. I nearly lost it laughing, my friends had to cover my mouth! Then he keeps going, but this time he asks a villain to push a stroller over, and then he helps out this cute little baby and her mom, and he sits down. So then he starts talking to the leader, says the police let him wander into the robbery and all this crazy stuff, then he says he’s quirkless, and the leader shoots him! Before he could do anything the second time, Midoriya-kun was flying around the shop knocking things over and hitting the villains, almost knocking them out but not really, and he slips or something and ends up upside down when the police come storming in, and he goes ‘You should be ashamed of yourselves!’”

        Tachibana actually does start laughing then, slapping the bench as she cackles at Izuku’s misfortune. Kurobayashi-sensei, of course, rumbles and blinks more times than Izuku can count, leaving Izuku feeling even more betrayed than before.

        “They did let me wander into that robbery.” Izuku says aloud, trying his hardest not to pout as he stacks weights on the squat rack. “I asked them later, and those traitors let me go in because whenever I’m involved things wrap themselves up quickly or something like that.”

        “What kind of strength quirk user claims to be quirkless, though?” Tachibana breathes, finally recovered from her cackling. Izuku freezes before he can step up to the bar.

        For a moment he thinks about how ridiculous it is. Most of his life, he’d have given anything for a quirk. Now, though, over a year after he gave up on his dream of being a hero, he’s got something that isn’t a quirk but… may as well be. People assume he’s blessed, even though he’s spent his entire life an outsider. Quirkless… and now cursed to be called a liar for telling the truth.

        “I am quirkless. No one knows what’s wrong with me.” Izuku mutters, just loud enough to be heard, as he takes the bar across his shoulders and lifts, going through the motions.

        “It sure doesn’t look like anything is wrong with you. How much weight is that, sensei?” Tachibana sounds… indifferent. Izuku hopes it’s indifferent. He doesn’t want to feel much right then. After fifteen sets, he racks the bar and steps off, finding the pair staring at him with… awe in their eyes.

        “I believe… that Midoriya-kun just performed a five-hundred-kilogram squat.” Kurobayashi-sensei sounds oddly impressed. Izuku isn’t used to that. “I’m a bit hurt, Midoriya-kun. When were you going to tell me that you’re bulletproof?”

        “I didn’t want you worrying, sensei. Plus…” Izuku sighs and leans back against the bar, ignoring the weight that Tachibana is still gaping at. “I should have caught the bullet. Getting shot ruined my school uniform again.”

        “Again? How often does this happen?!” Tachibana flies to her feet, staring at them both with a split pair of red and blue eyes.

        “I think I get caught up in at least two attacks a week, if not more. My current low is five.” Izuku sighs. “I had to change my jogging route after that week, since two of those happened in the next town over and I caught two in one day.”

        “So, you’re… super-fast, super strong, bullet proof… and you’re a villain magnet?”

        “Sword proof.” Izuku mumbles mindlessly. He slaps his hands over his mouth immediately, noting the trio of blinks from his teacher and the surprise on Tachibana’s face.

        “That’s pretty specific. Got anything to say about it?”

        “Um, no, not really. I don’t think that anyone should hear that story.” Izuku squeaks.

        “Huh. That’s a shame. You’re a real trip, you know that? Is there some tragic backstory as to why you want to be quirkless? Did you hurt someone or miss saving someone? If you’re going for that whole classic protagonist theme, you really need a tragic backstory.” Tachibana wags a finger at him, as if lecturing him, and her grin is very self-satisfied. Izuku sighs.

        “Honestly, I think having this… whatever this is, is worse than being quirkless. Now I can’t even tell the truth.” Izuku digs the heels of his palms into his eyes, suddenly feeling very tired. “I don’t think my backstory is very tragic, so maybe I’m not cut out for this whole ‘protagonist’ thing.”

        “You’re serious, aren’t you? About being quirkless.” Tachibana whispers.

        “Should I show you my doctor’s reports? I keep it in my backpack.” Izuku groans.

        “You keep it in your backpack? A signed document telling people you’re quirkless?” Tachibana gapes at him for that one. Izuku chuckles wryly.

        “The police kept getting confused. It’s the only thing that saves me from getting arrested for ‘illegal quirk usage’.” Izuku stares at the floor, feeling a mix of misery and humor welling up in his gut.

        “Man, that’s hardcore.” Tachibana sighs, smoothing her skirt and sitting down with her back against the rack. “I’m sorry if I pushed it too much. Usually my friends remind me to be more careful about asking questions. If it helps, I’ll believe you. You saved us, after all. Being rude is counterproductive.”

        “Counter-productive…?” Izuku murmurs, glancing over to find a green and a gold eye staring back at him.

        “Well, if we’re gonna be friends I can’t make you uncomfortable!”

        “F-friends…?” Izuku blinks.

        “Yeah! You don’t have many friends here at school, right? What kind of person would just let the boy who single-handedly saved her friends’ lives go on being a lonely, tragic shounen protagonist?!” Tachibana grins at him, though it looked a bit odd since she was leaning back and grinning upside down. Izuku thinks that the curve is right, even if he knew she was smiling.

        “Ah, w-well I’d hate to be a burden, and I c-couldn’t ask you to make time…” He stammers, flying to his feet and turning towards the bar to hide his blush. A hand swats him on the head.

        “Don’t ask then! No one is happy being alone all the time.”

        “I’m really not alone! I have Kurobayashi-sensei…!” The pair glance towards the man in question, finding him peering down at a book. He blinks at them in confusion as they stare, and Izuku receives a questioning look from Tachibana. “Eh… I, um, have some friends in the police force… and Smith-san! Lots of friends who own shops on my usual jogging route…!”

        “Geez, you’re really bad at being friends with people, aren’t you? What, are you going to turn down the invitation to be friends with a cute girl?” Tachibana cocks an eyebrow at him, leaving him both confused and much more red than before.

        “That… that has to be cheating…” Izuku sighs.

-

        Nothing is that easy. Not even friendship, apparently.

        Tachibana’s friends are, understandably, not excited to meet the infamous delinquent of class C. After a week, Tachibana is fuming mad about Izuku’s reputation and has half a dozen ridiculous plans to redeem him in the eyes of the student body. Izuku lets her rant, because it’s nice just to have someone to talk to during lunch once a week. Even it’s only been a week, and one lunch, it’s nice.

        Eventually, though, Tachibana wears her friends down. She finds him in one of his quiet lunch spots the next week with eyes flashing all sorts of colors.

        “We’re going to the mall!”

        Izuku chews, swallows, then calmly sets his bento aside and frowns.

        “Is this about my fashion sense again?”

        “…I didn’t even think about that, but that’s always a good point.” Tachibana grins. Izuku shrinks a bit. “But I finally convinced everyone to come hang out with you!”

        “Tachibana-san, you really don’t have to…”

        “Midoriya, shut it.” Tachibana points her chopsticks at him in a vaguely threatening way, and Izuku winces. Last time he kept talking they ended up digging her chopsticks out of his hair.

        “Ok. When is this supposed to be…?” He mutters.

        “Next week! We’re going to that new mall… Um, Kiyashi? I think it was Kiyashi ward… Basically, after finals are over, on the first day of summer.” Tachibana’s eyes flash yellow and red, and she frowns at him. “Try not to get involved in anything crazy, okay?”

        “Tachibana-san, you know I’m not actively doing this to myself, right?” Izuku sighs, resuming lunch and praying to every god he can remember that maybe he can take a little break. At least a day.

-

        On his run the next day, Izuku sees a plume of smoke. Somehow, one of the apartment complexes he passes on his way to work has caught on fire. The Police aren’t there yet, but the blaze has fully engulfed the upper floor of the building and Izuku knows this route all too well. Not a single hero on his route has any firefighting experience, and none of them are equipped for this.

        Before anyone can realize what he’s doing, Izuku runs through the half-assed line that the two heroes who have arrived have made, and ignores their shouts of panic as he charges in.

        He does his best not to worry about breathing. Once he pulls his shirt up over his face, there’s no real issue other than seeing what’s in front of him. When he’s barely halfway through checking the rooms, he hears someone scream. A bonfire blocks his way down the hallway as he tries to get there. The hesitation lasts all of two seconds before Izuku cocks a fist backward, shifts his stance and swings.

        The gale that tears through the apartment complex kills all the fire and engulfs everything in smoke, leaving him almost worse off than before. It takes longer than he’d like to get through the building, and when he does, he emerges with four unconscious people (he had to carry them out two at a time. The heroes didn’t say much when he came back with the second pair).

        When the police show up with the paramedics Izuku has to go through a little bit of chatter about how he should just be a hero already, he’s doing as much without trying. He tries to ignore the irritated looks from the heroes, but otherwise the day isn’t really all that special.

        At least, that’s what he’d thought.

        “Izuku… Honey! You’re on the news!” Izuku trips over his desk chair when his mother calls him out of his room after dinner, and he nearly trips again when he rushes into the living room. They stare as the news reports detail ‘a green haired youth’ charging into an apartment fire and saving four lives. No one would give them a name, out of respect for his privacy, but they go on to address the local rumors that a green haired student has been diffusing villain situations across Musutafu.

        For almost ten minutes after he watches it, he sits there frozen while his mom stares at him and worries.

        “You know, I’m actually surprised it didn’t happen sooner.” He mutters. A choked laugh erupts from his mother, who covers her mouth when she realizes what he means, and they both end up giggling like crazy.

        He avoids the news the next day. Seeing himself on the news isn’t something he likes, after always getting lectured (or used as a secret police force weapon) but his fingers itch to check through his phone as he usually does. When he arrives and sits down, someone drops heavily into the chair in front of him.

        Izuku pauses and glances up at the boy in front of him.

        “Yo. You’re that vigilante delinquent, right?” He asks, grinning innocently. Izuku frowns.

        “Er…” Izuku is very much aware of his lack of social skills. But this person is entirely normal, and he shouldn’t be freezing up but now people are realizing who he is, and he’s already got enough problems with Tachibana’s friends thinking he’s crazy. “No?”  

        “So you’re just a normal delinquent then?” The other student tilts his head to the side. Izuku’s shoulders slump.

        “Unless having bad luck is illegal, I don’t think I’ve ever broken the law, specifically.”

        “Actually, it’s considered illegal to move at speeds faster than 100 kilometers per hour without a special permit or a registered vehicle.”

        “Oh. Does is count if I didn’t know that was illegal?” Izuku asks. The stranger shrugs.

        “I have no idea. Can you really run that fast?”

        “I’ve never actually measured…” Izuku groans when he realizes what he’s just done. Eventually he’s going to spill the whole fight with Stain without even meaning to because he doesn’t think before he talks.

        “Have you checked the news today?” The other boy narrows his eyes at him, still smiling, as if Izuku is saying something funny.

        “Not really. I’ve been putting it off.” Izuku mutters.

        “Huh. Could you tell me one thing though?” The boy asks.

        Izuku shrugs and sighs, digging his fingers through his hair and sprawling across his backpack, “Sure, go ahead.”

        “How many times have they arrested you?”

        “They haven’t. I’m quirkless.”

        For a moment, they stare at one another. When the boy’s smile falls and turns into a frown, Izuku digs through his backpack and pulls out the folder protector holding his diagnosis. After a few moments of reading, the other boy stares at him wordlessly and returned the file.

        “Please don’t tell anyone.”

        “Honestly? I don’t think anyone is going to believe me if I tried.”

        “Try telling that to the police after you get shot.” Izuku mutters.

        “You’re bulletproof?”

        “Goddamn it…”

-       

        Tachibana blinks at him when he reaches the roof with his new ‘friend’ in tow. Part of him bristles when she does. He’s spent three months with Kurobayashi-sensei and now he can’t help thinking that people blinking at him that way are laughing at him.

        “Apparently I’m famous.” He drops to the concrete of the roof, careful to say it quietly to avoid letting everyone else on the roof know.

        “Hi! Are you in on his secret identity too?”

        “Yeah, he saved me and a few friends from a robbery.” Tachibana answers. “What’s this about being famous?”

        “I don’t have a secret Identity…” Izuku mutters.

        “Ah, sorry. I’m Nobutaka Kābā. Call me Kābā” He offered a small bow to Tachibana and a grin for Izuku’s sake. “Midoriya-kun here got caught dragging some people out of an apartment fire yesterday, and now every new outlet in Tokyo has a report on the Musutafu Vigilante. No one knows his name, though.”

        Tachibana grins at him too, and Izuku thinks the pair of them look like hyenas.

        “Stop it. Please. I’ve got enough problems just trying to be normal.” Izuku sighs.

        “He’s got a bit of a complex about being quirkless.” Tachibana stage whispers.  Kābā rolls his eyes.

        “Why are you so worried about it? You’ve basically got your own quirk, and you’re like All Might now.”

        Izuku flinches, apparently noticeably enough that both of his companions notice.

        “C-could we not talk about All Might?” Izuku murmurs, trying to eat while he still has the appetite.

        “…Sure thing, Midoriya.” Kābā says gently. “Honestly, I was just excited to hear that you’re not some raving delinquent murderer.”

        “You thought he could be a raving delinquent murderer? He couldn’t even speak properly when I approached him the first time.” Tachibana snickers. Izuku rolls his eyes.

        “There was a lot going on.” Izuku mutters weakly.

        “So, is talking just something you’re terrible at?” Kābā asks, finally unwrapping what looks like a lunch.

        “He’s not that bad once he gets over the initial part.” Tachibana offers. Izuku snorts.

        “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

        “If we gave you confidence, you’d be the overpowered rival character, not the tragic protagonist. Pick one already.” Tachibana mutters around a mouthful of fruit.  

        Does that make Kacchan my rival or Stain my rival? Izuku wonders, looking up at the sky.

-

        Kurobayashi-sensei doesn’t do much more than blink once when Izuku brings Kābā along to their session that afternoon. The two strike up an interesting conversation about Izuku’s exploits, and Kurobayashi-sensei scolds Izuku for running into a burning building, even if it was to save people, before he starts their training. Part of him wonders if it’s really ‘training’ anymore, or if Kurobayashi-sensei is simply remaining after school to let him use the gym and improve himself. Either way, he’s happy that his teacher has been so kind.

        When Izuku maxes out the weight on the bench, rack and a deadlift bar before he even gets started, Kābā gapes at him.

        “Midoriya. You’re a twig. Don’t show off just…” He trails off as Izuku looks him dead in the eye and picks up the deadlift bar with both hands, standing up as if the bar weren’t even there. Just to prove the point, Izuku adjusts, then starts lifting the bar as if it were a dumb bell, just so he can watch Kābā’s jaw drop. “Th-that’s… How the fuck…?”

        “Language, young Nobutaka.” Kurobayashi-sensei rumbles.

        “But… Midoriya, how much is that?”

        “Um… This is three hundred kilograms. I’m up to twelve fifty on the squat rack.” Izuku mumbles, going through his routine with the deadlift bar. Kābā laughs hysterically as Izuku goes through a few motions with the bar that definitely shouldn’t be safe.

        “You’re a little green All Might!”

        “I’m not a hero.” Izuku growls, nearly dropping the bar as he shifts his gaze to Kābā. The other boy returns his glare evenly until Izuku drops his eyes, gently setting the bar down and moving towards the squat rack. “And I’m never going to be as amazing as All Might.”

        “…Yeah. Okay, Midoriya. Sorry, I forgot you don’t like to talk about it.” Kābā sighs. “So, what else do you do? Other than working out, I mean. You said this started because of some crazy routine?”

        “Three hundred… Push-ups… Sit ups… Squats… Ten-kilometer run… every day…” Izuku grunts out between squats.

        “I thought it was one hundred, Midoriya-kun?” Kurobayashi-sensei chirps.

        “That was what… I started with… I tried, at least…” Izuku grunts as he re-racks the bar. “I only managed about twenty or so of each for the first week, then I almost died from the pain and dropped a bunch, and then… Then it started getting out of hand. My old phys ed teacher nearly had a heart attack when I benched four hundred kilograms out of nowhere.”

        “Damn. So, can anyone do this?” Kābā chuckles. Izuku actually laughs at that, but then he stops.

        “Huh. I never really stopped to think about that. But… Aren’t there still physical fitness competitions? Ones that ban strength quirks and stuff?” Izuku asks. Kurobayashi-sensei looks up from his book and blinks.

        “Actually, there are competitions for quirk users, non-quirk users, and for different metamorphic users. The last one is more divided in judging, though. They aren’t as popular as, say, the Pro industry or the Sports Festival, but they do well enough. People have done these things for centuries.” Kurobayashi-sensei doesn’t smile often (Izuku is so, so glad the man seems to know not to do it often) but he offers a bit of a smile and taps his biceps. “I’ve known quite a few people who use fitness competitions to learn or actually compete in them.”

        “I guess there’s still competitions for everything, huh? Art is like that too.” Kābā says, grinning up at the shark teacher. Izuku snorts.

        “I only ever paid attention to heroes, before. Guess I was missing out.”

        “You’re a hero nerd?” Kābā asks uncertainly.

        “Used to be.” Izuku steps up to the bar and lifts. “Being a hero was my dream. I gave up on it a little over a year ago. Started working out instead.”

        “Instead? So, what, you turned from an otaku to a bodybuilder overnight?” Kābā snorts. “I guess that kind of passion really is unrivaled.”

        Izuku frowns as he steps out of the rack, moving towards the bench.

        “Yeah. Something like that.”

        “Hey, so, what else have you done? Other than stop all those villain attacks.”

        Izuku lists off the beach clean-up, the reconstruction work, and a few of his odd jobs helping clean Musutafu. Kābā shakes his head as he stares at the blocks of weight on the ends of the bar.

        “Man. Never thought my high school delinquent would end up being an immortal saint.” Kābā mutters under his breath. Izuku rolls his eyes, and Kābā blushes slightly.

        “You haven’t seen him do much more than warm up yet.” Kurobayashi-sensei rumbles, blinking sporadically over his book.

        “…Life will never be the same now that I know you, will it?” Kābā cocks an eyebrow at Izuku as he starts in on his second set.

        “Hey… at least… you don’t… get used… as a deterrent…” Izuku grunts.

        “What does that even mean?”

        “According to miss Tachibana,” Kurobayashi-sensei slips a bookmark into his book and stands, heading towards the corner where Izuku’s dummy is left between sessions, “The police let Midoriya-kun wander into a hostage situation just to speed things up.”

        Kābā spins, staring at Izuku with wide eyes as Izuku sits up.

        “The bastards got me shot.” Izuku grumbles.

        “You got shot…?!”

        “I’m indestructible, from what I can tell.” Izuku sighs. “Bulletproof, sword-proof, knife-proof…  It all just hits my skin and stops or breaks the blades.”

        “WHAT?!”

        “Here, pinch me.” Izuku grins wryly as he holds out a hand. Kābā takes his arm and inspects it instead, then pinches him several times in quick succession. “Hey, ow, ow, OW!”

        “You said…”

        “Once! Not five times! What makes you think once isn’t enough!” Izuku rubs his arm, staring up at the boy with wide eyes.

        “Holy shit, you’re a god, aren’t you? Are you actually a Shounen protagonist?”

        Izuku sighs, ignoring the question in favor of walking towards the dummy and switching it on.

        “I have no idea.” Izuku steps into the stance Kurobayashi-sensei showed him for standard MM(Q)A fighters. He’s done this for three weeks, every day.

        “All right, so what does this thing do? You gonna practice ripping its head off or something?” Izuku gapes as Kābā rubs his hands together, almost gleeful at the idea.

        “Wha… No!” Izuku shakes his head and turns back to the dummy. “This is for keeping my strength in check. If I used my full strength with every punch, I’d kill someone. So…”

        Warm up. Zero speed. He reminds himself. Without any exertion at all, he lays a four-punch combo across the sensors. Each time, he pauses with his fist against the device, then pulls back.

        “Midoriya-kun has been studying anatomy and various techniques for boxing since I managed to procure this machine.” Kurobayashi-sensei croons, folding his arms as if Izuku were his star pupil. Izuku shakes his head at the praise in the man’s tone. “His improvement rate has been beyond what I imagined, but I suppose that’s Midoriya-kun’s style in the first place.”

        “I do this every day, three times. Even without the dummy. And I know a couple people who give me advice, sensei.” Izuku murmurs.

        Low power. Soft punch. First gear. His punches fly hard enough to leave the dummy shaking, but he makes sure each blow is complete before throwing the next. Kābā frowns from beside their teacher. After three rounds of punches, Izuku bounces on his heels and widens his stance.

        Low power. Second gear. The screen briefly flashes yellow as he lands the third punch, a blow to the ribs, and Izuku winces. He goes through the combo until he keeps the device green and adjusts his power level.

        “He just kinda looks like he’s reaching out and touching it. Is that all this is?” Kābā mutters from the side. Kurobayashi-sensei nudges him.

        “Midoriya-kun, why don’t you show him what you can do? The last combination should be fine.”

        “If I skip, I’ll lose pace…”

        “You won’t always be able to remind yourself of your power levels. You need to know that in a fight, things just happen. Trust yourself.” Kurobayashi-sensei growls.

        “…Yes, sensei.” Izuku mutters. “The final combination, then… Normal power. Third gear.”

        “Normal power? Gear?” Kābā snorts. “What are you, a ro…”

        Izuku’s fist flies. On the screen, a constant yellow screen shows as he lands all seventeen hits in quick succession, hitting every single point that he knows can take his ‘normal’ power hits. When he returns to his stance, the machine wobbles violently.

        “…bot?” Kābā blinks at the shaking machine. “Huh? What just happened, did you hit it?”

        Izuku sighs as Kurobayashi-sensei shakes with laughter.

        “I hit it seventeen times, actually.”

        Kābā looks at the device, flashing a green happy face. “Prove it.”

        “The screen flashes yellow for a half second if the force exceeds the normal amount a person can take at that point of the body.” Kurobayashi-sensei explains. Izuku offers up a flick at ‘normal’ power, straight to the stomach. The screen flashes red and remains there for a second before returning to green. “It will flash red if Midoriya-kun uses lethal force. Originally, the timer on the screen was much slower, but Midoriya-kun raised it to keep up with him. Half of a second in the fastest it can manage.”

        “Here.” Izuku drops to one knee, flips a pair of switches so that the screen is changed. One half remains green, while the other half holds a timer and a pair of zeroes. “This is a time trial mode. Sensei, can you start me?”

        “All right…” Kābā swallows, looking a lot paler than when Izuku first started using the weights. Izuku frowns, then steps into his form.

        Moving fast, Izuku has slowly learned, isn’t different from moving at a normal speed. Unlike he’d originally imagined back when he was a hero nerd, moving fast is just putting effort into the motions. But thinking fast took him a while to figure out.

        The word start draws out for almost ten blinks before Izuku notes the tiny zeroes on the timer begin to change. His punches ripple across the device again, keeping the top half of the screen a bright, toxic yellow. Despite his body moving easily at fractions of a second, it’s easy to see his fists striking the device while he’s still pulling back from that same punch. Faint blurs drag out as he runs through the routine, and when he pulls back from the seventeenth blow a short rush of off-white-pink fills his vision.

        When Izuku breaks form, the timer reads four seconds, and the screen flashes back to green with the number of hits still climbing from ten. Kābā blinks, then stares at Izuku with an unreadable expression.

        “What the F…”

        “Language, young man.”

        Izuku sighs, smiling despite the expression on Kābā’s face.

        “What the hell does your actual punch look like?” Kābā asks quietly. Izuku shrugs.

        “The wake reaches pretty far out at this point.”

        “You’re gonna have to do better than that, Midoriya!”

        “Wanna come to the mall after finals? Tachibana-san is introducing me to her friends. I think they’re going to hate me.”

        “…Sure. Which mall?”

        “Kiyashi ward. I think she said it’s new?”

        “Oh, yeah! That place looks awesome. I hear they have a really awesome arcade.”

        “That sounds fun. I’ll have to take some spending money then.”

-

        Finals week is not easy. Between studying and doing a bit of unofficial part time work around the places he knows, Izuku is too exhausted to keep much of his routine. He manages an hour to work out in the morning, in his bedroom, but cutting his jog out of his routine ends up leaving him jittery during the day and almost unable to sleep at night.

        All in all, his class rank goes to three from five, and Kābā reveals himself as number six, due to his focus on his art. Izuku is absolutely positive that his new friend is more exceptional than he realizes. Whatever it is, it feels like it’s on the tip of his tongue. Kābā is somehow more elusive and shy about his skills than Izuku, and that’s saying something.

        Then again, Izuku only has two friends and they both know just about everything about his secrets. So far, he’s told them everything but his meetings with All Might and Stain, which… He’s sure that those two events should never, ever reach the public ear. Or the official ear. Any ear, really.

-

        Tachibana’s friends relax when Kābā shows up, all easy smiles and glasses and good vibes. He’s around Izuku’s height, but a bit broader in the shoulders, which must make him seem like the one keeping Izuku in line. Out of all of them, Tachibana is the most colorful. She shows up dressed in jeans and a bright orange blouse, which is put to absolute shame by the molten orange color of her eyes.

        Her friends, of course, take one look at him and stiffen up. One of them is tall (tallish, it isn’t hard to be taller than Izuku) and she seems to look at him as if he’s about to run off with Tachibana or kick a puppy into traffic. She seems somewhat stylish, though her clothes aren’t anything bright or flashy (red blouse and a pair of navy pants reaching her knees) but she wears rings with iridescent stones across each finger, almost like a fortune teller type. Beside her is a guy dressed in his school uniform, with the jacket opened and the tie missing. For a minute, Izuku thinks he might be nice. When the boy looks at him, the smile he’d had disappears entirely and the guy looks at Izuku just the same as the rest.

        Off to one side, another pair of girls stood chatting and pouring over something on one of their phones, which left Izuku entirely out of his depth. Both of them seemed the type to keep up with trends and such, decked out in a nice sundress with styled hair or a cute skirt with a striped blouse that fluttered in the breeze.

        “Midoriya! Kābā! Finally!” Tachibana grins as she waves them over. Izuku flinches when the two on their phones glance up and roll their eyes at him. “We ended up coming early, so don’t start apologizing Midoriya.”

        He takes a second, because he really thought he had chosen his outfit carefully enough. An olive-green t shirt beneath a cargo jacket, one that’s dual sided and made of some crazy tough material just in case his luck goes south, and a pair of cargo shorts over his red sneakers. Maybe he’s just a bit too scuffed up in general to look fashionable (Would his mom tell him? She said he’d looked cool…)?

        “Oh… all right.” Izuku sighs. He turns to the others and offers a bow that’s probably deeper than it should be for classmates, but he’s not exactly off to a great start anyways. “It’s nice to meet you all. I’m Midoriya Izuku. I hope we can be friends.”

        “Ignore him, he’s terrified of you all for some reason.” Kābā laughs at the stunned expressions from each of Tachibana’s friends. “Call me Kābā, I’m Midoriya’s classmate from Class C. Nice to meet ya!”

        “Isn’t he supposed to be… I don’t know. A serial killer or something?” Izuku slumps a bit when he hears that. Tachibana, for all her good intentions, immediately turns to her friends and snaps.

        “Hey! You guys promised to give him a chance!” She cries.

        “Tachi-chan, you know I trust you.” The tall one says. Her voice whines a little more than Izuku would have imagined, but not all tall people have deep voices. Assuming is rude. “But no one is just going to jump in and decide he’s not a delinquent in five minutes.”

        “He saved our lives!”

        “The heroes would have done as much.” One of the girls, the dress girl, down the walk says. She purses her lips as she looks at him, then smirks and laughs behind one hand. “Not trying to be ungrateful. But… he also provoked the villain.”

        “I’m really, really sorry about that.” Izuku offers. His voice sounds pathetic, but that’s better than being rude. And he had actually made things worse by talking to the leader, that time.

        “Do we wanna go shop?” Kābā asks, catching everyone’s attention. Izuku really envies him, and appreciates him, in that moment. “I heard this place has a super awesome arcade!”

        Eventually, they all move towards the mall. Izuku frowns as Tachibana catches his arm and offers him a tight smile, obviously not happy with the result.

        “Hey… sorry about that. Um, I promise that they’re good people.” Her smile wanes some, and she looks after her friends as the pair drift back some. “We’re pretty normal, I think, but they’re not dumb either. They’ll warm up to you.”

        “Tachibana-san.” She glances at him curiously, eyes still vivid orange. From the short distance they’re standing, Izuku can tell that she’s delicately threaded black through the iris to make her color pop, almost glow.

        “Thank you. For being my friend, I mean.” Izuku smiles as wide as he can and digs a hand through his hair nervously. “I mean… Even if they don’t like me, or whatever… You’re being really nice. It means a lot.”

        Tachibana grins then slips behind him and pushes him towards the mall.

        “Don’t go getting sappy on me, Midoriya!” Izuku yelps as she shoves him forward, catching everyone’s eye as he’s all but shoved into the crowd of them and nearly jostles the tall girl. “Oh, and you should smile more! You look prettier when you smile, after all!”

        “W-what does that even mean?! Wait, I’m not supposed to look pretty!”

        “It’s a joke, Midoriya.” Kābā cackles. “But you do look prettier when you smile!”

        “S-sorry I almost ran into you…” Izuku glances up at the tall girl, watching her lift an eyebrow before she shrugs it off.

        “Tachi-chan always does shit like that, don’t worry about it.” Tachibana grins and pushes between them, completely ignoring the fact that she’s nearly pressed against Izuku’s side in their little crowd.

        “Now, where are we going to go first?!”

-

        Kiyashi ward mall is a huge place. Two stories! Izuku has been in those, but not super often. Most of the time he was chasing hero merch, and he never took the time to appreciate how big they were. Seeing a new one, full of people, is really something to stop and appreciate.

        Sadly, he’d taken that moment and lost his friends in the crowd, leaving him fighting just to try and find them.

        Just when he’s about to give up, his phone rings.

        “Midoriya-kun, what the hell man? Where’d you go!”

        “Kābā-san? I’m so sorry, I barely stopped for a second and I got separated. Where are you all headed?” Izuku groans.

        “Ha, that sounds like you. We’re heading for the…”

        Izuku blinks as someone jostles him from behind, and he mutters an apology to the person. For a brief second, they turn to look at him and Izuku pales.

        “Fuck off.” The person mutters, glaring at him through washed out cobalt hair. A black hoodie is pulled up over his head, almost like some cliché way of hiding, but it’s the look in his eye and the flaky, dry skin of his cheeks that stops Izuku cold. Something akin to an aura of rage wafts off this guy, something Izuku can’t help but notice.

        He looks like a villain. Like someone just waiting to be given even the smallest reason to go off the rails.

        “Fucking hero brats…” The man mutters, wandering off into the crowd.

        “…ya!” Izuku blinks, snapping out of his daze.

        “K- Kābā-san…?”

        “Hey, did you trip or something man? What’s going on with you?”

        “Kābā-san… You guys go on without me.”

        “Huh? Wait, Midoriya-kun, what-” He cuts the call without a glance and shoves his phone in his pocket, finger held over the emergency dial button. Izuku swallows the knot in his throat, then wanders off after the black hoodie.

-

        It doesn’t take long to realize that the man is just… wandering. He sees a few people, people that Izuku vaguely recognizes, but it isn’t until Izuku catches the man glaring at a boy with six arms on the first floor that Izuku places it. A close call leaves his heart pounding, and Izuku runs for the second story using the stairwell he’d tried to hide in.

        He finds the boy with red, spiky hair coming out of a store right as he sees the black hoodie again. Before he can think about it, he grabs the boy and drags him over the rail.

        “Sorry to drag you away, but I know who you are, and I need you to tell me if you recognize that person.” Izuku mutters, pointing to the black hoodie drifting slowly through the crowd. He feels the red-head’s skin harden under his fingers, and he can’t really blame the boy.

        A lucky moment strikes, and the man pushes back his hood just enough to reveal his hair and scratch at his neck. The boy beside Izuku inhales sharply, sharply enough that Izuku glances over in a panic and jostles his shoulder some. He looks like he’s just seen a ghost.

        “Hey… Hey,” Izuku mutters, “Are you okay? Do you know them?”

        “I… I think… maybe it’s a villain? I couldn’t see much. Who are you? What-” There’s panic in the boy’s eyes. Izuku frowns the minute he sees it, and he releases the boy. Despite the lecture coming his way later, he can’t exactly leave things be.

        “Look, there’s no time.” He’s dragging Eijirō from the railing. “He matches the report of the villains almost to the letter, red eyes blue hair, really angry, if he’s here then he must be waiting for a chance to strike, but he’s… if it stays like this, he’s fine, but I can’t let him get away, either…”

        He trails off and turns to the boy, looking him dead in the eye.

        “Aren’t you here with your class? You need to get out of here, call the police. I’ll track him, here’s my number just in case, ok?” Izuku doesn’t wait for anything else. The man in the hoodie is almost gone, and Izuku can’t risk losing him after a stunt like this. He hops the rail without thinking twice, landing on the ground floor without even a strain in his legs, and takes off through the crowd. People are shouting after him, but it’s easy to take off his jacket and flip it inside out to change the color before everything calms down.

        Following the man in the hoodie is hard . At one point, he needs to race to keep up, and several people look shocked as he blurs down the street into an alley. Moving like that in public is still iffy, but at least he doesn’t break the pavement anymore. It’s a bit of a shock that the man actually goes the whole way on foot (they’ve been walking a full hour) since the reports of USJ reported a warp quirk (not officially… but Izuku knew how to get passed that, when someone like Kacchan and something like All Might’s secret are on the line). But Izuku is grateful. They get on the train, and eventually get off somewhere in Kamino. Izuku barely notices the station before he’s off again, following the man at a decent distance.

        When he watches the man drift into a bar off a side street, he exhales and slips back into an alley to pull out his phone. The number he picks is saved without a real name, only ‘Detective Detector’, and Izuku grimaces as he dials the number.

        “Detective-san. I think I just found the League of Villains’ hideout.”

-

A/N: =D

Come yell at me! Or comment and tell me if you want a discord for my stories, this one included! Comment for anything you want to talk about!

At the very least, I hope this story meant something for you. Even if it just made you laugh. Hopefully you enjoyed, but if nothing else, I hope you found something here.

Discord: KreadStornham#1553

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Chapter Text

            5: Reposition

            Izuku should have known better. At the time, he’d been too wrapped up in that sensation that Shigaraki had stirred up in his gut, and he hadn’t really thought about the implications of what he was doing. Spending whole months with super-human strength, speed and resistance has apparently dulled his idea of what danger is, because what he’s facing now is so much more terrifying than getting attacked by Shigaraki and the League of Villains.

            Tachibana’s eyes are blood red and smoldering. Beside her, Kābā looks ready to turn him into a sculpture for fun, like he doesn’t know if skin and bone probably won’t transmute without a mess but he’s more than willing to find out. And of course, behind his two friends, are the incredulous stares of Tachibana’s group of friends, whom he’d unwittingly blown off the day before.

            When he bows to that little group and apologizes for being rude, only to get swatted on the head, squawking indignantly and rubbing his curls when the blow actually stings some, the stares only get even more shocked.

            “Tachibana-san, I said I’m sorry!” Izuku whines.

            “You think that matters!” Tachibana’s shouts already chased every other student from the rooftop for lunch, leaving the group of four to stare at the two continuously abuse Izuku for his error the day before. “You left us behind! When we got everyone together to prove you’re not an idiot!”

            “I thought I was proving that I wasn’t a delinquent…” Izuku mutters.

            Kābā snorts, “That’s today. Yesterday was to prove you weren’t a delinquent.”

            “At least they don’t think…”

            “I’m pretty much convinced that you’re a serial killer.” The single boy pipes up from the group behind Tachibana. Izuku winces as Tachibana whirls on him, and the boy’s eyes drop to the rooftop. Apparently Izuku is right to be afraid of Tachibana’s wrath. “I mean, who runs off to chase down a villain who attacked All Might? That’s a dumb excuse. That’s all, Tachi-chan.”

            Izuku frowns, trying to ignore the way the other boy grumbles.

            Well, I guess there’s no one else who would know that All Might is… Izuku looks at the roof and sighs. Not like I can blame them for thinking I’m crazy.

            “Forget all that!” Izuku blinked when Tachibana whirls on him again, eyes still full of bloody wrath. “You chased a supervillain! What were you thinking!”

            “I couldn’t just let him wander around, what if he’d attacked someone…?” Izuku tries, barely able to raise his voice from ‘pathetic’ to ‘kind of lame’.

            “You always say you’re not a hero, but that’s what heroes are for, you idiot!” Tachibana growls. “One day you’re running into a burning building, the next you’re chasing a supervillain! I don’t care if you’re bulletproof, if you have super speed and strength! Hell, I wouldn’t care if you were All Might’s apprentice!”

            Izuku winces, because that one stings. All Might wouldn’t have chosen someone like him in the first place, but even then, if the hero could, he needed to, which… wasn’t a nice thought.

            “What if he’d caught you and attacked you? You don’t know if he could’ve killed you!” Tachibana pokes him in the arm hard enough to snap his attention back up. “What about the rest of us, huh? What are we supposed to do if you go and die?”

            “I didn’t even fight him, Tachibana-san.” Izuku sighs. Before she can start in on him again, he continues, “Look, a friend of mine is in the class that got attacked. When I heard that all that happened, I got a hold of the reports and… What that villain did, I can’t forgive him. At first, I just followed him around the mall, but those kids were there too! I watched him stalk them and I realized that if I just left him alone, he could really hurt someone. It wouldn’t have even been a challenge, just a quick swipe to activate his quirk and leave the mall in chaos. It’s not… It’s not about me, or even about spending time with other people. No one else would have noticed. No one else could have kept an eye on him. And if I’d called the pros?”

            “That’s what normal people do!” Tachibana growled, stomping a foot like a kid throwing a tantrum. Izuku sighed.

            “I’ve been scolded by the same hero five times, twice for getting shot and once for walking out of a hostage situation where I was the hostage. I really, really doubt that they could’ve done more to help unless I’d picked the right one, and I don’t exactly have them on speed dial.” He sighs again, because none of this really matters. “Look, I’m really sorry, Tachibana-san, but I wouldn’t do it any different. Even if everyone wants to yell and scream at me, I think I did the right thing.”

            “No one is saying you didn’t do the right thing, dummy.” Kābā snorts, then chops Izuku on the head playfully. “What we’re trying to say is that you put yourself in danger again. And this wasn’t something like a fire or a bullet or a knife. Villains are dangerous, the real ones at least. Tachibana-chan is worried about you.”

            Izuku slumps a little more, but he chuckles when the girl’s ire turns on Kābā.

            “Who said you could call me that?!” Kābā yelps as her foot slams down on his, leaving him floundering for a moment until he can cradle the injured limb. Her eyes aren’t nearly as angry when she turns back to him, but they’re sad now too and that hurts just as much. “He’s right, though. Stop throwing yourself around like this before you end up hurting yourself.”

            Izuku sighs again, this time for a different reason, and nods.

            “I’ll… do my best, Tachibana-san.” She nods once, then sits and starts eating, which is apparently the cue for all of them. Izuku blinks when her friends look at him with a bit les… distaste than before. The tall one, he notes, stares at him intently for a few moments before they all fall into a rhythm that Izuku is sure must have started during the previous day.

            He’s a little too envious of how easy it seems, with Kābā and Tachibana and the rest, whose names he still doesn’t have the pleasure of knowing.

            “Yo, Midoriya, what are you doing for summer break anyways?” Kābā calls through a mouthful of his lunch. Izuku frowns.

            “Um… working out and doing my projects I guess?”

            Something about the way he says it catches everyone’s eye, and Izuku suddenly wishes he’d kept that last bit to himself.

            “Projects?”

            “Oh, yeah, you never did show me all those spots you cleaned up!” Kābā grins, glancing at their little group one by one. “Midoriya here is a bit of a local legend, actually.”

            “Wait, wait, what’s he even talking about?” Tachibana’s eyes flush green and blue, mixing and changing across both eyes as she turns to look at him.

            “I just… I try to help out where I can.” Izuku blushes at the glint in Kābā’s eye.

            “You’re trying not to call it community service, aren’t you?”

            “They think I’m a serial killer!” Izuku squawks. “I… It’s not really service anyways, I just went and did stuff as part of my jogging route. People ask sometimes, and it just… kept going.”

            Kābā just rolls his eyes.

            “What he means is,” The others, Tachibana included, turn to look at him with wide and curious eyes as he keeps picking through his lunch, “While he was on his journey of self-discovery, Midoriya started cleaning up Musutafu as a side gig. And helping shop owners with things. I actually found an article from a couple months ago about him cleaning up a local river and how much it helped the community.”

            “The only problem is…” Izuku flinches as Kābā rolls his eyes at him and pokes his chopsticks towards Izuku’s chest. “Midoriya does everything anonymously, and he’s basically a vigilante at this point. Between the police using his bad luck to save people in hostage situations and him rescuing folks out of burning buildings, he’s got a ton of little restoration projects and part time jobs.”

            “Look, it’s not really that big of a deal.” Izuku sighs. Tachibana’s eyes flash indigo, the color he’s come to recognize as disbelief from how often she looks at him with that particular shade, and she snaps at him with a pouting expression.

            “You walk into burning buildings for fun. Your opinion doesn’t count.”

            Kābā’s agreed that he could use more fresh air and offered to join Izuku on his run, if only to see the overzealous routine Izuku built up. Izuku isn’t sure if he’s glad that Tachibana’s friends don’t want to show up when he offers for them to join, or if he’s let Tachibana down. Knowing that the feelings of guilt aren’t going away doesn’t help much, so he heads home and tries to help cook dinner instead of dwelling on everything.

            Dinner is nice that night, if only because his mother smiles more widely when she hears about his new friends. All two of them, and the four who still aren’t entirely sure he’s not a murderer.

            Summer, though brings Izuku to a new problem. Without classes, his study time is cut almost in half unless he looks ahead (which he does, despite how odd it all looks) and he’s lost his after-class time with Kurobayashi-sensei.

            Part of him puts of it off, if only because Tachibana and Kābā will definitely think he’s crazy. But later that night, when he can’t sleep, he ends up looking for a new project to ‘help’ on.

            “You know,” Kābā stares at him with a bit of fear in his eyes as Izuku gets up after his usual routine the next morning. “I thought you were joking about that whole… three hundred a day thing.”

            Izuku snorts and brushes the sand from his clothes. Dagobah is a hot spot, but early enough in the mornings there isn’t a soul in sight.

            “Whatever this is, I’m not going to risk losing it now that people expect me to stay bulletproof.” He mutters.

            “Actually, I have a question. I asked you about your punches before and you said something about a wake.” Kābā glances out towards the surf. “You didn’t mean…”

            “I only tried once or twice.” Izuku says, opening and closing his fingers experimentally. “And that was months ago. Before high school.”

            Kābā grins like crazy and hops to his feet. Izuku rolls his eyes.

            “C’mon, let’s see it!”

            “You’re not going to be so excited when someone comes down here asking about quirk usage.” Izuku sighs, tossing off his jacket and heading down towards the waterline. He frowns at his fist for a second, imagining what All Might had looked like during the Mud-man incident. Then he shakes himself and settles into his stance, the one that he’s spent months learning to fall back on and pulls his arm back. “Full power.”

            For the first time in a long time, he punches through the mental dummy he’s created, throwing his entire body behind the punch. A roar fills the air as the water parts down the line of his punch. The trough easily reaches out to the horizon, as if a truck had taken off along the surface at supersonic speeds. When he pulls back and sighs, a manic laugh starts up behind him.

            “Kābā…”

            “Midoriya, holy… you just parted the freaking ocean! With a PUNCH!”

            “Kābā!”

            “Dude, you’re… I mean, this is…”

            “Can we just…” Izuku motions weakly for them to leave. Kābā snorts.

            “One day, Midoriya, you’re not going to be able to avoid people’s reactions. But yeah, sure.”

            They start jogging again, and Kābā gives him a bit of time before he says anything else.

            “So, you’re working on those community service things today?” He eventually asks. Izuku grunts in affirmation. “Do you ever… I don’t know, Midoriya, do things just for fun?”

            “I’m… I mean,” Izuku stops and stares at the street as he thinks back on the past year and a half. “Honestly, I haven’t done much other than work on stuff and work out since my third year of junior high school.”

            “I figured as much. You said you were a big hero nerd before, right?” Kābā slaps him on the shoulder. “Aren’t there any old hobbies or something that you can pick up again?”

            “I… I don’t really want much to do with heroes anymore. It’s one thing to know about quirks. I like quirks. But I’m not super big on heroes. No more than the news and rankings.” Izuku sighs.

            “Well, that’s fine. But we should try and find some time to enjoy summer, you know? It sucks we don’t have a school trip, but we can always hang out!” Kābā pushes Izuku along somewhat until Izuku shakes himself and starts walking on his own.

            “Y-yeah… that would be fun?”

            “Why does everything you say sound like a question? I’m offering!”

            “I just… I dunno. I’ve got a bad feeling I guess.”

            “Midoriya, I seriously doubt we’ve got anything to worry about while you’re around.”

            “Maybe you’re happy taunting the universe, but could you leave me out of it? I’ve got enough on my plate just trying to be normal.”

            “Normal is overrated!” Kābā snickers, resuming their jog. Izuku huffs, but he’s smiling when he starts jogging to catch up.

            Izuku stares at the television screen in shock.

            “That… Is that a mole person?” His mother asks quietly. Izuku nods. “Is that a quirk?”

            “I… I don’t know. I assume so.” Izuku sighs. “What else could it be?”

            The look she gives him makes him want to cry, but he giggles instead.

            “Honey you know I’ll support you in whatever I can but… You know firsthand that quirks aren’t everything.” Inko shakes her head. For a little while, they watch as the mole villain fights a pair of heroes, Kamui Woods and Death Arms (those two again…?), and eventually Inko frowns. “Should you…?”

            “Mom, I’m not a vigilante.” He grumbles. A sinking feeling begins to grow in his chest until his leg is bouncing up and down. Inko leans back a bit and frowns at him.

            “Izuku.”

            “Hmm?”

            “Just go, honey. I’ll make lunch while you’re gone.”

            “But…”

            “They don’t look like things are going to get any better any time soon. Just go ahead.” Inko gives him a smile. “You won’t feel right just leaving it, will you?”

            “I…” Izuku sighs and grabs two handfuls of his hair before he groans and stands up. “I’ll be back in a bit…”

            “Come home safe, oh, and grab some green onions, would you?”

            “Sure, mom!”

            By the time he arrives, the mole person is fighting off three heroes, including a rather frustrated group of police. Izuku watches from a nearby rooftop for a little bit before he sighs and looks at his watch.

            “If the time is right then… Why haven’t they called him, though?” He groans as Death Arms takes a blow to the gut and goes flying. Calling the villain a ‘mole person’ wasn’t very accurate now that Izuku is looking at him. The villain stands at least twelve feet tall, probably taller, and he’s got four arms and multiple eyes. “Probably some type of insect quirk? Or… definitely a metamorphic one, but it’s not the same…”

            When Izuku hops off the rooftop and lands in the police line, just about everyone screams before realizing who he is. A few who don’t know try pushing him out towards the edge until he crosses his arms and frowns.

            “Why haven’t you called Present Mic? He’s the best hero for the job if that thing came from underground.” Izuku calls out, ignoring the quaking ground. The police look around, all confused by his question until he groans and pushes through to the front of the police line. “Do you guys even know who this guy is?”

            “He called himself the subterranean king, or something like that.” One of the officers Izuku recognizes says with a frown. Behind them, a small row starts up between the officers who know Izuku and the ones who don’t. Izuku chooses to ignore it.

            “How long has this even been going on?” Izuku sighs.

            “Twenty minutes? We’re in deep if it keeps up. Traffic is frozen for three blocks around.” The officer glances at him. “Are you…?”

            “I mean… My mom said I could.” Izuku shrugs. The officer raises his eyebrows, then makes a little noise. “But Death Arms won’t appreciate it.”

            For a little bit, Izuku watches as Death Arms goes in after the Subterranean King person, getting taken out with two of the villains’ arms tied behind his back. There are purple sashes tied around the man’s torso (carapace?) with four handles that Izuku really doesn’t like. On the edges of the hole, he thinks he can see movement, but that’s not something he really wants to think about either, so he focuses on Kamui Woods and Death Arms getting beat into the ground.

            “I’m tired of you! If these are your champions, then the surface dwellers stand no chance against me!” The four handles are drawn from the villain’s body and blades of orange energy pour out in a way that earns a bit of Izuku’s attention. At least until they turn Kamui Woods’ branches into charcoal and nearly turn Death Arms into mincemeat. When the hero trips and finds himself helpless again the third blade, Izuku moves.

            Even moving at half second speeds, Izuku can see the blades simmering and moving. He grimaces as he slams a foot down and tosses the hero into the air back the way he’d come. For a moment he stares at the oversized man crawling through the air in the direction Izuku had tossed him, before he shrugs and glances up at the Subterranean King. All four eyes are starting to narrow as he sidesteps the blades and frowns at the hulking villain.

            “You are not my opponent, human child!” The King roars. Izuku shrugs.

            “Does it really matter?” He asks. “By the way, what’s your quirk? Metamorphic, or is it those blades? Maybe a mix of gigantification and the…”

            (Two blades carve through the pavement like butter where he’d first landed, but Izuku is already striding around the villain in a circle. A glance down into the hole confirms that, yes, those are in fact things moving down there in the walls of the massive hole and nope nope NOPE Izuku doesn’t like that.)

            “-insect metamorphic? Like, I don’t know, a compound quirk? That’s the only real explanation, I feel like you’d be hard to miss-”

            A growl leaves the villain’s throat as he misses the horizontal swipe with two more blades. Izuku pauses beside the ones he didn’t use and grimaces at the heat.

            “Are these things made of flaming metal or something? Did you make them?”

            “WHAT ARE YOU?! If you came to save your kind, then FIGHT ME LIKE A CHAMPION SHOULD! I AM THE SUBTERRANEAN KING!” The villain roars.

            “Yeah, I got that. I’m just curious I guess.” Izuku hums. “All right, fine, let’s go then.”

            A sound, almost like pleased gurgling, comes out of the villain’s mouth parts and Izuku shivers as he slips a foot back into his stance. 

            “I won’t hold back against a child, so…”

            Izuku’s first blow hits hard enough that the villain bends over and earns a very different gurgling noise. He frowns as the creature swings his blades again. Moving at half second speed, he dodges around the blades relatively easily, moving to the villain’s side and throwing another punch at his second gear. The villain stumbles forward, then speeds up some and swings his blades in quick succession.

            The heat coming off those things is serious… I better end this quickly. Everyone is just going to get more worried the longer this goes on. Izuku frowns. Gotta end it before the heroes get involved again.

            “You’re powerful for a child, but you puny surface dwellers will never break my armURGh!” A quiet scream splits the air as Izuku’s fist slams into the villain’s side and leaves a spiderweb of cracks across the carapace.

            “Man, you’re tough… it takes my third gear to do that, huh?” Izuku mutters. “All right, let’s settle this then.”

            “W-wait…!”

            “You had a chance to stop.” Izuku frowns as the four eyes turn to him, wider than he thought an insect quirk should have been able to manage. “But I don’t have long to finish this up, so just go down quietly, please!”

            A cry escapes the air as Izuku’s fifth combo lands and ‘The Subterranean King’ collapses onto the ground, dead blades falling to the pavement from lifeless limbs. Izuku sighs and bounces on the balls of his feet a couple times.

            He startles some when Kamui Woods lands on the ground beside the villain.

            “You… you’re that boy who gets kidnapped all the time.” The hero’s eyes narrow. Izuku frowns, then sighs and reaches down to grab one of the dead sword handles.

            “Would it kill you guys to be grateful just once…?” Izuku mutters as he wanders towards the police line, ignoring Kamui Woods noise of disbelief. Death Arms is red in the face as he stalks over to the line and hops over the barrier, stuffing the blade handle in the back of his shorts. Before the hero can comment, the police force are swarming him. Eventually, the hero gets angry enough to push through the group and push a finger against Izuku’s chest.

            “Kid, you don’t have a license! You can’t just get involved without consequences!” Death Arms crosses his arms and glares down at him. “This time you broke the law, and I’m not…”

            “Would you rather I sat back and watch you die?” Izuku sighs, staring the hero dead in the eye. “Are you going to arrest me, sir?”

            “You know…” The officer beside Izuku is grinning when he taps his chin ‘thoughtfully’. “I’m pretty sure I saw him jump in to help you, then get attacked. Wouldn’t that count as self-defense, Death Arms?”

             “Not if he leapt the police line!” Death Arms gapes at the man, watching a wave of muttering run through the police. Izuku swallows a grin, then bites his lip till it truly passes. “He got himself involved, you can’t just ignore that!”

            “At worst, he crossed a police line.” The police officer hums. “But considering he leapt in to save a hero from a powerful villain, and only reacted in self-defense, I’d be hard pressed to find a judge who would give him more than a fine, sir. And, honestly, I didn’t even see him actually cross the line, nor did I order him to stay put. Midoriya just appeared out there and saved you.”

            “You’re willing to break your oath to keep him safe?” Death Arms scoffed.

            “He really didn’t, I just asked him a few questions and then I lost control. But, Death Arms, if you want to take me to the station that’s fine.” Izuku blinked. “Oh, wait. I need to pick up green onions. Can we stop by a market on the way there?”

            “You…” Death Arms’ jaw drops as Izuku stares up at him with a neutral expression.

            “What? My mom asked me to get them when I left the house!”

            The next day, he gets a text from Kābā, inviting Tachibana and Izuku to come meet at his place. When Tachibana finds out that Izuku made the news again, she agrees a little too readily for Izuku to feel comfortable with it, but he can’t say no.

            It’s the first time he’s been invited out since… since grade school, isn’t it?

            When he’s halfway to Kābā’s apartment from the station, his phone rings.

            “Hey, Midoriya… uh, we’ve got a bit of a problem.” Izuku frowns.

            “Is everything okay? Should I head home, or do I need to pick something up?” He pushes out of the foot traffic and pauses under an awning, glancing at the high-rise apartment building down on the next block. 

            “Well, there’s a hold up in the lobby. It seems like everything’s handled, but could you just… Not use the front doors? That way you can surprise the villains.”

            “Kābā, are the police…”

            “Someone called them, apparently, but it’s not like you need to be worried about it. Look, my place is on the tenth floor, and I opened up the patio. West side, the opposite side of the front doors. Just hop up here and then we’ll work something out, all right?”

            “Tenth floor? Isn’t that kind of extreme?”

            “Do you think you can make it?” Izuku pauses, then sighs.

            “Probably.”

            “Great. I know you’re gonna blame yourself but it’s really not a big deal, okay? Let’s just hang out, don’t go rushing in and getting involved or anything.”

            “Fine, fine. I’ll be there in a bit.” Izuku sighs and continues down the street, shoving his phone in his bag. As it happens, there’s a limo parked out front and a couple guys Izuku really doesn’t think are on the payroll. Looking around finds him standing in a back alley between Kābā’s building and another, shorter one.

            “All right, Izuku, no big deal, just… ten stories.” Izuku sighs, then crouches and grunts as he jumps. He counts five stories before he lands, trying to keep his feet light as he hits the ground. The next one gets him all the way up to the eighth floor, but his landing cracks the ground some. With a groan, he shakes his head and counts five different balconies spanning the floor. Pulling out his phone, he dials his friend again.

            “Hey, are you almost here?”

            “Uh, yeah, but… which balcony is it?”

            “Oh, shit, of course… Fourth one from the street.”

            “Okay. I’m coming up now.” Izuku pockets the phone again and moves down, crouching and focusing on the power that had taken him up to the eighth floor. After a couple experimental bounces, he leaps up with a little more force, glad he doesn’t hear the sound of shattered pavement as he flies up and just makes it over the rail of Kābā’s balcony. When he touches down, Tachibana, Kābā and the tall girl from Tachibana’s friends all stare at him with wide eyes.

            “Uh… hey. So, villains?” Izuku tries a shaky smile, and Kābā breaks out in a storm of cackling.

            “You… You actually did it?!” Kābā half chokes on his laughter. “You jumped ten stories?!”

            “Uh…”

            “You climbed up, right?” The tall girl chirps, looking at him with a face full of disbelief. Tachibana’s eyes are wide, light blue and too stunned to even speak, apparently. Izuku shrugs.

            “I… no, I jumped. It just took a couple tries to make sure I didn’t crack the pavement… Oh no.” Izuku turns a hurt look on Kābā. “There’s no villain, is there?”

            “N-no!” Kābā wheezes, slapping the floor with one hand as he rolls onto his other side. “My sides, M-Midoriya, my sides…!”

            “You really just… jumped ten stories?” The girl mutters. “That’s a great quirk, I guess. Like Miruko?”

            “Oh, I’m quirkless, actually.”

            Izuku is getting used to the beat of silence that passes when he tells people that. When she continues staring at him, he pulls his wallet from his pocket and hands her the doctor’s confirmation. She reads it once, twice, then glances up at him and reads it a third time before handing it back to him.

            “So… you climbed up, right?”

            “No, I jumped.”

            “Do it again.”

            Izuku sighs, then shoots another hurt look at Kābā, who’s barely calmed down enough to wipe his eyes and is wheezing something about ‘too pure for his own good’ (which Izuku doesn’t appreciate at all, he’s socially awkward not stupid), before he walks to the balcony. The girl follows him, then glances over the drop.

            “Here goes, I guess.” Izuku hops over the railing without a thought, ignoring the choked cry of fright from the girl when he drops off the rail. Touching down burns his calves some, but he avoided breaking the street still, so he considers it a win. When he looks up at the tenth floor and sees three heads poking out, he sighs and pulls out his phone. Kābā picks up after a second, then steps back some to make room.

            They’re back before he can jump again, so he resigns himself to figuring it out on the fly and jumps again. His friends (he’s handed this girl the doctor’s notice, he might as well call her a friend, right?) gape as he lands on the lip of the balcony in a crouch, correcting his overbalanced perch some before his feet hop down onto the balcony again.

            “Are you sure you can’t fly?” Kābā asks quietly. Izuku shrugs.

            “I haven’t really tried, but if I jumped at top speed it could work? I don’t know how I’d maneuver, though.” Izuku turns to the third person and manages a weak smile. “Um… yeah, this is kinda… the whole thing. The police kept picking me up because I get caught up in attacks all the time, not because I was in trouble. I was a witness.”

            “…Mhmm,” She hums, eyes wide as she stares at him over Tachibana, and he can’t help noticing that her eyes aren’t actually black but a very dark shade of blue.

            “Midoriya-kun.” Tachibana says suddenly, eyes still wide and entirely light blue. “Lets… How about you don’t jump off buildings anymore? I think I almost died for a second there.”

            “Sorry Tachibana-san.” Izuku mutters. “I didn’t really think about it.”

The response to that is more laughter from Kābā and more staring from the new girl, as well as a heavy sigh from Tachibana.

            Kābā’s apartment, as it happens, is a lot bigger than Izuku’s. The living room itself is easily as big as his own and then some, and there’s a whole attached kitchen instead of a joined kitchenette. When Kābā throws himself onto the couch Izuku pales a bit.

            “Make yourself at home, bunny rabbit!” Kābā giggles. Both girls take the loveseat beside Kābā’s couch, so Izuku pulls a stool out from the bar and pushes it up beside the couch (Kābā is sprawled across the whole thing, which doesn’t exactly leave him much choice).

            “Um… obviously you know, but, I’m Midoriya Izuku.” Izuku bows slightly in his seat then flinches as Tachibana’s eyes flash bright yellow/pink and his friend begins to panic.

            “Oh my god I never got to introduce everyone to Midoriya!”

            “Oh yeah, you were getting lost while I was making the introductions…” Kābā mutters. “Whoops.”

            “Sokuchi Ruby.” The woman mutters.

            “Oh… Uh,” Izuku chokes back a shout as his internal fanboy rises up and gets (metaphorically) shoved back off the balcony. “N-nice to m-meet you.”

            “You okay there Midoriya?” Kābā cocks an eyebrow at him. Izuku grimaces and slams a fist down on his bouncing leg.

            “Fine.”

            “Good. So, remember how I said you were famous before?” Kābā sits up and whips out his phone before tossing it to Tachibana. “You’re, like, easily one of the biggest things in Musutafu ward now. And you’re in the top ten news stories across the country. The only things more popular than you are the failed takeover on I-island and the failed raid on the League.”

             Izuku almost asks for the phone when Tachibana frowns at the screen and starts reading it out loud.

            “A villain attack randomly yesterday morning had the crowd of onlookers and police worried for half an hour before the event was finally put to rest by a very unlikely source. Witnesses report that while pro heroes Death Arms and Kamui Woods were having trouble with the villain for a majority of the time and eventually were defeated. Death Arms, who denied an interview, is rumored to have been saved by the timely intervention of a green haired youth. The young man with green hair, who was caught on camera saving people from an apartment complex fire a few weeks ago, arrived on scene and defeated the villain with a stunning display of speed and strength, enough to end the villain attack in two attacks. This video, slowed down as far as we could given the quality, proves that the boy’s speed far exceeds anything we’d thought possible from the young vigilante. This seems to be his second media report, but the rumors of people being saved by this person over the past year have been pouring through the phones ever since the reports of the Subterranean King went public…”

            Izuku groans as she trails off.

            “I haven’t helped that many people…!”

            “Weren’t you just telling us that you weren’t going to put yourself in danger like this?!” Izuku flinches as she leaps up and glares at him. “What were you thinking!”

            “Tachi-chan!” Izuku’s eyes go wide when Kābā calls her that, but somehow their friend gets her attention with it. “Before you give Midoriya that rant, I think you should see something.”

            “Why are you on his side all of a sudden?!” Tachibana shouts. Kābā just grins.

            “You just watched him jump ten stories. Have you seen him punch something yet?” Kābā grins. Izuku slumps into his chair.

            “Can we go a day without our friendship revolving around my…” Izuku trails off because he isn’t sure what to call it. He frowns as he fumbles for the words.

            “Maybe if you want this to stop being about you,” Tachibana growls, glaring at him with eyes turning orange and black and yellow (colors Izuku isn’t entirely sure about yet), “You should stop being… this.”

            “You just pointed to all of me.” Izuku stares at her blankly. Kābā snickers.

            “Yes.” Tachibana crosses her arms and nods, smirking triumphantly. “You need to stop being all of you.”

            “Hey, Midoriya.” Ruby’s voice catches him off guard. Tachibana flops onto the couch beside Kābā, whisper-muttering something as the boy scrolls through his phone, and Izuku turns to Ruby as the tall girl stretches out on her loveseat. For a second, his brain short circuits. “Midoriya.”

            “Huh?”

            “How’d you even stumble across that fight with the villain, anyway?” Ruby asks. Something about her is quiet, compared to everyone else Izuku has known. It reminds him of Kurobayashi-Sensei, but it isn’t the same. When she speaks, it’s measured and nearly empty. Her eyes are dark, and there’s no tell there. The feeling of being under her eye leaves him sweating somewhat.

            “Oh, um… I was watching the news with my mom, actually, and I uh… I tried not to. Go and fight, I mean. Because getting involved was gonna be messy. But then, I saw it going badly and…” Izuku frowns as his leg continues bouncing on the chair. “Watching them get beat like that made me nervous. My mom told me to go.”

            “Your mom gave you the ok to go and fight a villain?” Ruby’s eyebrow rises. Izuku chuckled weakly.

            “She’s… We had a talk. She knows everything I get involved with. Almost everything.” Izuku frowns. “There’s some stuff that’s just. Too much.”

            “That makes sense.” Izuku blinks at the easy smile on Ruby’s face. “You just walked in and took care of it?”

            “Oh, well Death Arms and I have a long… history, I guess. He doesn’t like me.” Izuku rubs a hand through his curls and grins, despite himself. “Saving him kinda made it worse. But the Police Force likes me well enough. They usually don’t mind if I get involved, as long as no one else gets hurt, and they’ve… Uh, I doubt it’s entirely legal, but they let me get involved.”

            “Like the time you saved us.” Ruby nods. Izuku offers a nervous ‘yes’ when Tachibana shrieks.

            “He can what?!”

            Izuku sighs when the black mist appears in front of him. Considering it’s just before dawn and he’s running one of his newer jogging routes, Izuku can’t complain about the timing. There’s no better time for something like this to happen, even if he’d prefer it not happen at all. Now that people are talking about him, he’s not terribly surprised that someone went to the trouble of actually finding him.

            When the two men (one wears a dress shirt, waistcoat and slacks, despite being made of black mist, while the other has a full suit and an ominous black mask covered in pipes) step out, Izuku frowns. The one made of mist is carrying a small bag

            “Uh… Hi.” The pair stare at him for a second as he starts talking. He thinks that the yellow eyes on the mist guy are a little wider, as if he’s raising eyebrows he doesn’t have. Looking at people from a sideways plank is a bit awkward and being shirtless doesn’t help. “You look important. Should I stand up? You kinda caught me in the middle of my routine, so…”

            A chuckle radiated from the man in the mask.

            “No, by all means. We’re the ones coming to you, after all. Do you mind talking with me for a bit?” The way he says it is odd. As if he’s amused, or maybe as if he’s off balance. Whatever he was expecting, Izuku isn’t surprised that it’s not quite what he found.

            “Well, I’ll be here for a while. But if you’re looking to kidnap me, I would prefer if we fought it out in a less populated area.” Izuku mutters.

            “Not at all. Kidnapping a child is beneath me.” The man says. He waves a hand, and a chair appears beneath him. Izuku frowns as the mist man continues standing behind them, and the portal closes with a quiet woosh.

            “What exactly does the leader of the League of Villains want with me, then.” Izuku says, focusing on the where the man’s eyes should be under the mask.

            “I would be a fool if I wasn’t scoping out All Might’s apprentice early. Call it a personal interest,” Izuku really wants to interrupt but the man raises his voice and speaks over him, so he waits, “in the boy who’s quietly turned the city on its head over the past few months. Frankly, I never imagined that blonde buffoon would ever pick a successor who knew what the words stealth meant. Part of me imagined he would be picking from UA. It’s a fresh change of pace to be proven wrong, and I wonder if you’re the reason that I was proven wrong in the first place.”

            “Uh…” Izuku pauses as his alarm goes off. He blinks down at the phone, then stands up and pockets it. All of a sudden, he’s very aware that he’s standing in front of a murderous supervillain without a shirt and he’s not sure how to feel about that. “Well, that’s all… flattering?”

            “I should hope so. Not everyone manages to prove the king of the underworld wrong even once in their lifetime.” The man says. Several things try to come out all at once, and it leaves Izuku speechless in the end. He blinks at the man not unlike a shark, then frowns as several things click together in his head.

            “You’re the one who hurt All Might six years ago.”

            “I am.” The man crosses a leg over his knee, then extends a hand casually to the side. Izuku can hear the smirk on his face. “Call me All for One.”

            Izuku frowns hard enough that it carves lines all the way to his teeth.

            “And… even though I’m the one who found your hideout and called the cops, you’re… not here to kill me?”

            “Well, I was surprised at first. And I don’t typically enjoy surprises, mind you.” Izuku nods, because that sounds reasonable for a super villain, especially when the man says it as if he had originally intended to kill Izuku (which is also reasonable for a supervillain), “But then I looked at things more carefully and noticed a trend. You’ve been active since around the start of the school year, maybe a little before. Between that little incident, the small time criminal last year, and your time dealing with the Police recently, you’ve been treated rather harshly. Which is curious. Then I heard that you’re not well liked by the local heroes, and I’ve been wondering why there wasn’t a larger reaction to you discovering our hideout.”

            The man chuckles softly.

            “Honestly, I’d imagined things would happen much faster. But I’d love to know, was it that blonde buffoon or the police who held off on that operation?” Izuku blinks at the cheery tone.

            “Uh… I wasn’t involved in that, actually. Beyond calling it in. I didn’t know who would get to go on the raid, or that there would be a raid.” Izuku shrugs, then reaches down and pulls on his jacket, leaving it unzipped just in case the man decides to attack. “And I don’t have any connection to All Might.”

            The man pauses.

            “I might be curious about you, but I don’t enjoy lies.” A murderous tension fills All for One. Izuku frowns as the villain leans forward and peers at Izuku. “Who else would chase me? Who else would go out of their way to stop these attacks, with that kind of power and speed? You are the ninth wielder of One for All, boy. I am not a fool. I would recognize the power I created anywhere.”

            “Power you…” Izuku’s eyes widen as several things begin flying through his brain.

            A creature with multiple quirks.

            Reports under the ‘confidential’ status hidden behind several times more security than normal.

            Someone who injured All Might, and apparently was important enough to be kept from the public.

            Villains attacking UA for the first time ever, trying to kill All Might.

            ‘King of the Underworld’.

            ‘All Might’s successor’.

            ‘One for All’.

            ‘All for One’.

            A hand runs up, wiping across his forehead and then down his nose, pinching the bridge of his nose. Izuku takes a few deep breaths, then lets out a deep sigh that rattles a couple of his ribs.

            “All Might can pass down his quirk?” Izuku mutters quietly. Something about the way he says it seems to make All for One hesitate. “And you injured him, so then… you’re the one who caused all that. Him coming to Musutafu. To UA.”

            “Of course. But that idiot teaching, well, even I had to laugh at the idea.” All for One settles back in his chair. There’s no amusement in his tone this time. “If you’re worried about divulging secrets, you’ve no reason to be. I know everything about One for All, even more than your mentor, perhaps. I’d prefer if we were both candid, after I came all the way out here. My patience is running thin as it is.”

            There’s a lot of things Izuku wants to do. Normally, he’d probably be wanting to run around or punch something or scream. But there’s the added pressure of standing in a relatively populated area with a literal super villain staring at him. While he’s internally processing the chaos running through his brain, his mouth starts running, as usual.

            “You… You have a way to take quirks. Or put make those monsters from that USJ incident, right?” Izuku mutters. All for One hums quietly.

            “So, he really didn’t tell you about me? About your power?” The villain sighs, as if he’s disappointed. “I’m not terribly surprised. All Might was never very bright outside of combat. My quirk is the power to take and give quirks, young man. I am the leader of the world, or I was. Before your lineage took it on themselves to stand in my way.”

            “You were trying to take over the world.” Izuku says. The man shrugs.

            “Semantics.” All for One waves a hand, then settles it back over his leg casually. “Now, I’ve answered enough of your questions. I’m rather tired of this… ignorance. What exactly is your plan, I wonder? Become another All Might, coming up from nowhere and suddenly taking over the hero industry? That’s a foolish…”

            “I’m quirkless.” Izuku says, crossing his arms. There’s a pause in the air that terrifies Izuku because he just interrupted a super villain’s monologue so he decides to roll with it just because he may not get the chance to say it all before All for One actually gets over the fact that he was just interrupted. “All Might and I only ever met once, and he told me that I couldn’t ever be a hero. I just happened to see Shigaraki and wanted to keep him from attacking anyone. Honestly, all those attacks I just got caught up in everything and had to walk out, but there’s no… I’m not trying anything, there’s no plan.”

            Izuku barely finishes when the man’s hand twitches and black vines sprout from his fingers. On a whim, Izuku tosses off the jacket and takes the vines straight to his chest, staring at the man when they shatter weakly against his chest.

            “Yeah, that only works if I want you to draw blood.” Izuku hums. All for One doesn’t move. “Look. We can do this all day. No one believes it. Seriously, you’re not the first person who’s thought I’m some kind of… prodigy. I’m just a quirkless kid with bad luck, and you’re wasting your time here talking to me if you think there’s some master plan out to stop your plotting.”

            “…Kurogiri.” The mist man steps forward at All for One’s call. “Give it to him.”

            Izuku frowns as misty portal man drops the sack at his feet. When All for One tips a finger and his mask towards the bag, Izuku drops to a knee and opens it. His eyes widen as he reaches in and pulls the small, unconscious child to his chest. All for One stands, buttons his coat once, and turns towards his subordinate. Before he leaves, he turns and regards Izuku through the mask, hands in his pockets.

            “I came to find you because I wondered why the successor to One for All was being treated in such a way. As it stands, this changes a few things, but not my reason for bringing that. Regardless, leaving it with you will stir things up. Soon, villains everywhere will be after that, and they won’t be playing nice. I think I’ll watch you a bit longer. You’re playing both sides now, young man. If, perhaps, you ever decide that the heroes aren’t worth your time… Well, I might find you interesting for a little while longer, at least.” All for One turns and steps into the portal, followed by the mist man barely a second later. Izuku growls, wishing that he was confident enough to fight the person who’d treated this little girl that way, then grabs his jacket and wraps her up in it.

            As he pulls his phone from his pocket, a list pieces together in his brain.

            There are plenty of people Izuku should probably talk to about the little girl in his care. Someone in the Police Force, a hero, Child Services…

            Instead, he goes home. He drops the little girl in his mother’s arms, tells her to pack a bag and that he needs her to trust him. For a few minutes, they stare at one another. Eventually she agrees, and she takes the little girl with her to her bedroom to do just that.

            Maybe it helps that the girl whimpers and sweats through her rags in her sleep.

            First, he calls the detective. The one who has been worming his way into Izuku’s case, the lead detective on the USJ investigation, the only person on the Force that Izuku guesses isn’t on All for One’s payroll. Leaving a quirk like Lie Detection in the hands of the police doesn’t seem like All for One’s style.

            His plan isn’t actually a plan. There’s a lot in his head that he isn’t sure what to do with, a lot of guesses and ideas that leave him entirely unsure of how to proceed. At the top of his list is a little girl covered in bandages, but his mother is a better bet on that than he is. Which leaves the second and third things on his list: All Might and the Police Force.

            Izuku decides not to sweat the details. He’s out of time, patience, and self-preservation. Ever mindful of his mother and the little girl trailing behind him, Izuku stalks out of the train station towards UA. A brief instruction to follow when he reaches the front doors is the only warning he gives her.

            When the barrier around UA slams up to keep Izuku out, he punches a hole through the metal and stalks up the front walk. The turrets that pop up shoot darts with quirk suppressants and tranquilizers and rubber bullets. At his top speed, Izuku rips them apart and reaches the front steps just before the sound barrier shatters at the front gate, wreathing him in a gale when he pushes into the school.

            All Might, of course, is already there in the front entrance with Present Mic when he walks through the doors. Power Loader, Snipe, Thirteen and Hound Dog are all sprinting down the halls towards the front entrance when Izuku crosses his arms and locks eyes with All Might.

            “You.” Izuku can feel the anger in his cheeks and his ears when he sees All Might frown at him.

            “Ah… Midoriya, if I remember correctly?” All Might pauses.

            “Drop the charade.” Izuku snarls. “You’re wasting your time like that. Shut it down.”

            All Might’s expression hardens.

            “Young man, I’m afraid that you are in no position to make demands.” For a second, he’s not the crippled skeleton of a man that Izuku knows. He’s the symbol of peace, and Izuku is the villain in his sights. Izuku takes a breath, then lets it out slowly and drops the bullets he’d caught up on his way in.

            “I got a visit from a dead man this morning, All Might. He threatened to put a hole in my side, just like yours.” Izuku growls, walking forward as if the hero isn’t twice his size and more powerful than he’ll probably ever be. The man’s expressions twists in shock as Izuku glares up at him. “He was asking why your student wasn’t going to UA, and he didn’t like finding out I’m quirkless. See what I mean?”

            Not five seconds later, All Might collapses into the coughing skeleton that Izuku had prayed he’d never see again. When the heroes around him gape at them, Izuku turns on his heel and walks to the door. His mother is just reaching the steps, staring at the heroes with fright plain on her face.

            “Izuku, what exactly are you…”

            “Mom.” She takes a breath when he reminds her, quietly, of what he’d told her before. Then he turns and looks at the growing crowd of heroes. “We need your protection. There’s a traitor on the Police Force, and this little girl is being hunted by villains.”

            “Kid, who are you?” Present Mic scratches his head, staring at him in disbelief. Izuku frowns.

            “Just a kid trying to save people.” Izuku stares at All Might as he says it. Despite himself, pat of him still aches when he remembers that day.

            After his entrance, it takes ten minutes to get Tsukauchi, All Might and his mother into Nezu’s office. Finding out that the detective-hero pair know one another is a punch to the gut that Izuku really wishes he didn’t need to deal with. None of them dare to stop his pacing, apparently, so they stare at him with worried expressions and talk about the little girl while everyone gets the alarms and his mother’s situation sorted out. Eventually, Recovery Girl takes them both. Izuku stands in front of the three men with a frown set deep on his face when the door closes behind them, gravitating towards All Might despite everything.

            “So, Midoriya-kun. I take it you’re the vigilante we’ve heard so much about?” Nezu asks cordially. Izuku narrows his eyes at the detective.

            “No one told you that was me?” Tsukauchi takes off his hat and slumps into a chair, looking utterly defeated by Izuku’s tone.

            “Midoriya-kun, I can understand…”

            “I really don’t think you can.” Izuku snaps. After a moment to reign himself in, Izuku lets out a long sigh and turns back to Nezu. “Yes, Principal Nezu, that was all me.”

            “I see. Now, why don’t you explain why you felt the need to break into UA to make a point?” Nezu folds his paws and stares at Izuku with black eyes.

            “All for One showed up on my morning run.” Izuku says, ignoring the way Tsukauchi’s eyes widen. “He thought I was All Might’s successor, and he told me a few things about One for All before I managed to tell him about my quirklessness. Then he tossed that little girl at me and said that villains would be coming after her soon. The problem is, the only people who know about my jogging routes are the Police and my mother. I’m required to tell them because I get into so much trouble just by running around. Especially since they let me walk into a hostage situation and got me shot.”

            Izuku ignores the way All Might chokes. He won’t ever let them forget that. Regardless of the fact that he has friends now, Izuku doesn’t appreciate that incident.

             “I see. That still doesn’t explain your… reactions to All Might. Care to explain?” Nezu says carefully, sparing a glance at both of them. Izuku turns his eyes to the floor.

            “I met All Might by chance over a year ago. I… I was… I accidentally latched onto his leg as he was leaving and saw his true form by mistake.” Izuku says, sighing the whole thing in a rapid-fire sentence. “He told me someone quirkless couldn’t be a hero. I gave up on my dream after that, but things… things haven’t really given me much choice.”

            For almost a full minute, silence dominates the room.

            “You said you’re…” The principal pauses as the worn, folded papers with Izuku’s diagnosis hit the desk. When he reads over it, he lays the paper on the desk and folds his paws again. “I see.”

            “Look. I’m not…” Izuku glanced at All Might, then back at Nezu. “I don’t want anything to do with All Might. But All for One found me, and that little girl is going to be pursued by villains, and someone who knows my morning route gave that info away.”

            “You’re ignoring the chance that someone tracked you there.” Nezu said patiently.

            “I changed to that route two days ago, and I haven’t had a single incident.” Izuku groans. “Even you didn’t know who I was before today, sir. No one outside the police know who I am, or how involved I am, or… Anything, actually.”

            “I see. Well, it’s not a horrible assumption. We’ve had some information leaks here as well, and that would support the idea that there’s a network for the villains to track everyone involved.” Nezu murmured. “So, Midoriya-kun, what are you looking for? Why come here?”

            “Because of him.” Izuku met All Might’s eyes, then looked back to Nezu. “Because All Might was here, and because this place is full of heroes. Because there’s a little girl involved, and my mom might not have been safe if the police gave out my route, and because…”

            Izuku hesitates, then swallows the knot in his throat.

            “I came to you because I don’t know what to do, sir. My mom is everything I have, and I can’t… I’m not even legally allowed to fight villains! And now I’m stuck with… with all THIS!” Izuku tosses himself into a chair as the tears start leaking from his eyes. “I’m supposed to be quirkless! I already gave up everything I had and now I’m getting attacked by supervillains who put a hole in the Symbol of peace and I… I can’t just…! This is too much…!”

            He hates that he breaks down in tears right there. Nezu, Tsukauchi and All Might are the absolute last people in the world who he wants to break down in front of. One is the reason for everything that’s happened, the other is a variable Izuku doesn’t like and Nezu… He just met Nezu. This probably looks really bad.

            “I… need h-help.” Izuku chokes, wiping the tears from his face even though he’s still barely able to breathe through the sobs. “I can’t do this myself. Even I know that. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t… I can’t stop, I’m really sorry…”

            “No need to apologize, Midoriya-kun.” Izuku is a bit surprised that it’s Nezu who speaks first. “This seems to have been a stressful morning. Maybe we should talk later.”

            “I… But my mom…” Izuku stammers.

            “We’ll keep you all here for the time being. And when we’ve checked your house, you’ll be allowed to return. Moving might draw more attention, and that would be unnecessary. For the moment, we’ll keep watch on you three unofficially.” Nezu says quietly. “All for One isn’t something that we can let out into the world, nor is this something we can ignore. But you should go and see your mother and rest. I’d advise against telling her about…”        

            “I didn’t.” Izuku says weakly. “I never… Not that. She doesn’t even know about…”

            The way he looks at All Might must say it all, because Nezu nods.

            “Right. That’s good, then. We should keep her knowledge of that man limited for now.” Izuku nods, then stands up.

            “Um… I’m sorry. For breaking in and… I’m not… I didn’t mean to cause trouble, but I…” Nezu chuckles as Izuku trails off.

            “Midoriya-kun, I won’t say that you did the right thing, but you certainly got our attention. And I can’t say that we’d have believed you if I hadn’t seen you disarm our security at supersonic speed.” The principal smiles, and Izuku manages something weakly similar. “For now, you should return to your mother and try to relax. Having that sort of responsibility forced on you… I’m not surprised that you were wound up.”

            “…wound up… Yeah.” Izuku mutters. He’s not sure when he left the office, or what Recovery Girl said when he wandered in, but soon he’s lying on a hospital bed cradling the little girl in his arms and dozing off.

            Nezu stares at Toshinori for a moment after the door clicks shut behind Midoriya. When Toshinori finally looks up at him, Nezu claps his paws together and gives Toshinori a look that makes every pro within Tokyo flinch.

            “You said you killed him, All Might.” Even Tsukauchi shudders a bit when he speaks. “Now he’s back, and we’ve got a pair of children to worry about.”

            “For what it’s worth,” Tsukauchi sighs in his chair, looking at least five years older than he should, “Midoriya is probably the only thing we don’t have to worry about.”

            Nezu hums, then glances at Toshinori, who looks confused. Quietly, he sends the footage from Midoriya’s entrance up to the monitors in the wall, along with footage from his fight against the Subterranean King. When the hero watches the sonic boom tear through the entrance, and the green blur streaking whole meters between frames, and the burst of punches on the horrible footage of the King takedown, his jaw drops some.

            “I… What happened to him…?” Toshinori mutters.

            “He’s quirkless.” Tsukauchi sighed. “I’ve confirmed it with his doctor, but the kid catches bullets out of midair and moves too fast for cameras to follow. Whatever is happening to Midoriya is… one of those cases.”

            “An anomaly.” Nezu sighs. “We’re lucky he’s not chaotic as Hatsume, then. But regardless, he’s the strongest I’ve seen. This needs to be kept under wraps as best we can.”

            “You can’t contain him, Nezu-san.” Tsukauchi says quietly. “Even if… Look, this kid is a magnet for trouble. Beyond Toshinori, beyond anything I’ve ever seen. We’re just lucky that he’s strong enough to handle himself and everything he gets involved in.”

            “Then we do what we’ve been doing.” Nezu sighs, despite himself. “We monitor him, and we try to figure out the cause. For now, we’ve got two in our hands. Two who have heroic tendencies. When things escalate any further, we’ll get involved. For now, we check the girl and make sure that the Midoriyas are clean.”

            Nezu paused as Tsukauchi tensed.

            “Something else, detective?”

            “Well. It’s not… You’d have to ask Midoriya,” Tsukauchi frowns and toys with his hat nervously. “But there’s reports of a boy dropping off Native, a pro hero local to Hosu, on a night when Native claims he was attacked by Stain.”

            Nezu and Toshinori share a look.

            “I wouldn’t hurry passing down One for All, Toshinori. Midoriya seems to have things handled.” Nezu chirps, grinning despite the ice in his tone. Toshinori coughs up some blood, enough for Nezu to feel he’s made his point, and Tsukauchi drags a hand over his face. “For now, let’s talk about this traitor.”

Chapter Text

            6: Re: Charge

            Unexpectedly, staying at UA is nice. They’ve scrubbed his phone and online accounts clean within hours of his demonstration, which lets him tell his friends he’ll be ‘off the grid’ for a little while. After promises to explain in detail later, Izuku goes to Recovery Girl and gets the rundown.

            The little girl is terribly anemic, in ways that Recovery Girl doesn’t like. Of course, that’s her best diagnosis, which means that while he listens, a small black hole opens in Izuku’s gut. Nothing he tries can rationalize that spark of negative emotions, so Izuku tucks it away in the darkest recesses of his mind.

            But, surprisingly, the faculty don’t do terribly much about him. They avoid him, mostly, and he’s given a map of the campus to do his routine. Izuku appreciates that, but later that first night he pulls his mother aside.

            His mom isn’t happy about what he’s doing, but she can’t tell him not to. After talking for a few hours, they’ve come to a conclusion and share one of the most emotional hugs that they’ve ever had. Izuku isn’t sure when she accepted this, or when she determined that he was allowed to go out and fight. He’s not complaining, just wondering. Whatever is happening to him, it’s drawn them closer than he ever thought possible, and Izuku is glad for that.

            What comes after that, of course, is three days of nothing. Nezu calls him in each evening to talk about their efforts. Izuku doesn’t particularly care, because he’s still not sure how he feels about Nezu or UA or heroes (he tries not to say All Might specifically) in general. On the third day, Nezu asks what he’s been doing to pass the time. After a little hesitation he says that he’s thrown himself into his workout routine. The principal asks if he needs anything, and Izuku mentions he would like access to the gym.

            Obviously, UA has the single most expansive stash of equipment that Izuku has ever seen. Nezu, offhandedly, tells Izuku that he should ask if he wants something. Apparently, the Support department will whip it up if they don’t already have something similar in stock and Power Loader is at Izuku’s disposal.

             All Nezu asks is that Izuku not enter the Support labs himself. Everything is supposed to be done via Power Loader specifically, for some reason, and the hero is to meet him outside the lab.

            During those three days, as Izuku is crafting his new routine and checking in with Recovery Girl and Nezu and Power Loader, the question of being spied on nags him. It’s so constant that Izuku finally breaks down and mentions it to his mother, who sighs and giggles nervously and tells him she’s wondering the same thing.

            “Honey you broke into UA!” She cries through a strained smile. “I’d be surprised if they weren’t spying on us…”

            On the morning of the fourth day, while its still dark outside, Izuku stares at his shoes for a little while. Then, in a spur of the moment decision, he heads to the nurse’s office. Watching the little girl sleep for the fourth day in a row is unsettling. All the machines say she’s alive and Recovery Girl says she’s slowly recovering. But the fact is that Izuku still has that little condensed pinpoint of… something buried in his mind. Seeing the little girl there, defenseless and exhausted in a coma, is poking the bear.

            “I…” Izuku bites his lip as his hand slides over the sheets to loosely tangle their fingers. “I don’t know who did this. Hell, I don’t… None of us know if you’ll wake up. Or where you came from… But if-”

            Izuku’s voice cracks a bit and he coughs to clear it up before he lets the words come.

            “If you can hear me, I want you to know that you’re safe. No matter where you came from, or why he chose me, I’ll protect you. No one will ever hurt you again, and I swear they’ll pay for what they did. You… you deserved better. Maybe I’m not a hero or a parent or… I’m not anything, really.” Izuku sighs, digs a hand through his hair and groans aloud. “What am I even saying, promising something like this…? I mean, it’s not… You’re so little. Maybe you have a family, someone who can actually take care of you. There’s someone, something better for you than to be stuck with someone like me.”

            The beep of the machines calms his heartbeat eventually, and the blood coursing through his ears slows until his breathing is the loudest thing in the room.

            “…My name is Izuku.” Izuku says quietly, wrapping the tiny hand in both of his. “I’m Midoriya Izuku, and I swear I’ll keep you safe. So just… please wake up.”

            His new routine takes a long time. No one bothers him during his workout, and his mind either chases his eyes or careless chases snippets of thought. That night, he returns to the little girl’s bedside. After he reminds her of his name, he stays a few moments before leaving and having dinner.

            Even after his breakdown on the first day, he’s never felt so miserable.

- 

            Power Loader sits in on his routine the next day. When Izuku first tells the hero what he plans to do, the man stares at him as if he’s crazy. Then Izuku puts on the biometric tracker and does the routine within four hours. Power Loader doesn’t question him after that.

            Cementoss offers to let him use something called TDL whenever he’d like, since there’s no students, and Izuku politely says he only needs weights and distance running. But that doesn’t stop the hero from having a polite conversation with him about his high school and what kinds of things he’s gotten involved with. Over the next three days, his routine, daily meals, and visits to the little girl’s bedside dominate his time. Heroes drift in and out, sometimes talking with him or just showing up during his weight lifting time to gape. There aren’t many, but there are enough to make him feel a bit bashful.

-           

            Recovery Girl calls him into her office on the eighth day. When he arrives, he finds Nezu sitting in an extra chair by the old doctor’s desk.

            “Midoriya-kun! I’d like to ask a favor.” Nezu chimes. Izuku frowns.

            “If you’re asking to test my abilities, I’d rather not…” he mutters. Recovery Girl sighs.

            “You’re smart, Midoriya-kun, but even if I wanted to respect that I’d at least like to do a physical check-up.” The old woman says.

            “I’m fine, really. Honestly, ever since I got… whatever this is I haven’t even been sick. So I don’t think…”

            “Midoriya-kun, I will not keep letting you traipse about in my office without a check-up.” Recovery Girl snaps, eyeing him with a scowl. “This girl is in a fragile state. Whatever is happening with you, I need to make sure that it won’t hurt her system.”

            Izuku frowns as Recovery Girl checks him over, taking blood near the end. Nezu remains, smiling at him all the while. As he replaces his shirt and stands up, Nezu jumps off his chair.

            “Midoriya-kun, would you mind coming with me?”

            “Um, Principal-sama I’d prefer…”

            “Please, Midoriya-kun.” Nezu looks up at him, dropping the smile in favor of a neutral expression. “You’re uncomfortable. I’d like for us to talk about it instead of dancing around the subject.”

            “…alright.”

            Seated in Nezu’s office, Izuku can’t help feeling worried. Nezu replaces his smile, though he sits in the chair beside Izuku’s and turns them to face one another. Eyeing the principal like this didn’t make Izuku feel like they were on equal terms at all.

            “You’re worried about having us monitor you, yes?”

            Izuku swallows, despite his dry throat.

            “Um… yes?”

            “You can be honest, Midoriya-kun.”

            “I’d prefer if no one knows. I mean, I’ve been doing this on my own for a long time, and…”

            “You don’t trust heroes. Or the police, or UA, or anyone.” Nezu tilts his head to the side. “Would that be a fair assessment?”

            “I guess?” Izuku mutters. “Having anything to do with heroes just… leaves a bad taste in my mouth. A week ago, it wasn’t… I mean, I’m supposed to be quirkless. Showing people probably isn’t going to go well.”

            “Do you know your limits well?” Nezu asks.

            “I know roughly how it feels. Not in actual numbers, though.”

            “Midoriya-kun.” Nezu clasps his paws, smiling a bit more genuinely than before. “I’d like to clear you with a license to apprehend villains. Also, I’d like to clear your mother as a proper guardian for that little girl, should she ever need a home. For now, we haven’t found any matches in the DNA database, which means she’s not someone who officially exists. But before we can do any of that, I need to clear your abilities.”

            “Officially.” Izuku mutters.

            “Your file is currently something that we are keeping secured and classified. No one will see the data, and I’m absolutely certain that if you’re ever recognized by the government it will be the same. But for now, we can’t let that little girl stay with you unless we know for certain. That means we check your abilities against a hero no one could possibly raise a protest against to streamline the process.”

            “So… you’re telling me that I need to fight All Might so I can get official recognition?” Izuku sighs.

            “Exactly. Let us test your abilities, even if it isn’t your full potential, and then we’ll test you against All Might and for possible loss of control. I’ve already assumed that you’ll pass, given your prior experience, but these tests will make sure no one can protest.” Nezu says calmly.

            “Fine.” Izuku groans. “Fine, I’ll…”

            He trails off, then scrubs his face with his hands.

            “You’re asking a quirkless kid to fight All Might.”

            “Well, that’s only if you want his signature on the documents. No one would say anything against the number one hero, after all.” Nezu smiles a little more, and Izuku shudders.

            “…I’ll do it. The tests, and if he agrees to certify me, then I’ll fight him.” Izuku huffs.

            “Then let’s get everything in order, shall we?” Nezu grins wide, and Izuku swears there’s a glint in his eye. Izuku doesn’t like that at all.

- 

            All Might flinches when Izuku storms into the training room the next day.

            “Uh, Y-young Midoriya…?” The hero stammers, looking up at the control tower curiously.

            “Let’s just get this over with, All Might.” Izuku growls.

            “For now, both of you please take this seriously. Spar at whatever level you believe is correct for you. Power Loader has all our best cameras outfitted for this.” Nezu’s voice echoes in the training room.

            “This is the last test, right?” Izuku calls.

            “Yes, Midoriya-kun. Thank you for being so patient with our tests.”  

            “Whatever.” Izuku grumbles, dragging a hand through his curls. When he’s taken a moment to collect himself, he glances up at All Might. “Hey, All Might. Can I ask you something?”

            “Of course, young Midoriya!” All Might puffs up into his current hero outfit, filling the material until Izuku is staring up at the man he once idolized.

“You already have someone to pass it down to, right?” Izuku asks. All Might pauses, then hangs his head.

            “…I do. He’s training, currently. This… none of this is my first choice, but I’ve never…” All Might pauses, then closes his eyes and sighs heavily. “I missed my chance, and no one else has ever leapt out at me since. But young Togata, he’s an incredible young man. Someone worthy of taking up One for All, even if I’m not completely ready to pass it on.”

            Izuku looks at the floor between them. He isn’t sure what he was expecting but knowing that All Might has a successor leaves him feeling briefly conflicted.

            “That’s good, then.” He mutters.

            “Young Midoriya, I…”

            “Please don’t.” Izuku grimaces when his voice wobbles and cracks. All Might stares at him with pleading eyes, so Izuku sets his nose in the web of his hand and closes his eyes. “All Might this… this is really, really uncomfortable. Honestly, I don’t want anything to do with heroes. It just…”

            He takes a breath, then twists his face as the words start to pile up and get confusing.

            “I wouldn’t have made it.” He says quietly. “If I’d tried, the way I was back when we first met, I would have failed miserably. Sometimes, knowing that, I think that what you told me was that kindest way. Back then I was just… I was learning from heroes, but I wasn’t ever going to be able to save anyone.”

            “Young Midoriya…” All Might’s voice is raw, which makes tears well up in Izuku’s eyes. He wipes them away and takes another breath.

            “Honestly, you weren’t any different from everyone else. So don’t… please don’t apologize.” Izuku manages. “Right now, I just want to focus on getting stronger. To keep her safe.”

            “That’s a noble goal.” All Might says weakly. Quietly. Izuku lets it hang for a little bit before he takes a deep breath and frowns.

            “I need your help to do that. So take this seriously.” He says, settling into his stance. All Might’s grin reforms, as if the man is adjusting his armor before the fight, and the hero nods as he places his hands on his hips.

            “Any time you’re ready, young Midoriya.”

            Ever since Izuku started getting stronger and faster, he’s avoiding giving everything he had. Breaking into UA pushed his speed to the utmost, but even then, he wonders if he might have had something left to squeeze out. Now, facing All Might, he decides that it’s time to give up the ghost. If it means that he can take care of the little girl, then he’ll do it regardless of what he has to show UA.

            After a few deep breaths, Izuku pushes off with everything he has. The distance between them closes quickly, but he can feel the air against his skin at this speed. Like walking through water instead of strolling down the street.

            When All Might meets him, the hero moves casually. The first punch gets swatted to one side, his kick gets thrown off balance and his second punch hits an elbow that throws him wide. A quick motion from All Might leaves Izuku spinning in mid-air, completely off balance. He hits the ground with a grunt, and the world snaps back into place.

            “You’re very fast, young Midoriya, but that won’t work against me.” All Might’s eye twinkles as he chuckles. “I suppose you’re more than…”

            It’s not All Might’s fault, honestly. He’s the number one hero, and he’s staring down at a quirkless kid who has no right to be fast or strong or capable. Talking without a little healthy condescension should be acceptable. But after an hour being tested against Snipe’s bullets, Power Loader’s industrial equipment and giant robots, Izuku isn’t in the right mindset to deal with that. For a second, he’s back on the roof, staring up at his idol while All Might turns his back on him.

            His feet touch the ground, and then they don’t. On a whim, he kicks out midair and changes direction, leaving an odd ripple in the empty space that he can feel more than he can see. From behind All Might, Izuku throws a punch. All Might twists to make it in time, but the hero’s eyes are wide.

            Every time Izuku raises his gear, All Might matches him. When Izuku finally feels his legs start to grow heavy, he can see every move All Might makes as plain as day. Izuku chases the hero as he tries to retreat, and they end up leaping off the ground. The fight spends tens of seconds in the air as they trade blows, returning there whenever one of them tries to retreat. When he finally hits his limit, he catches a tiny waft of steam from All Might’s shoulder.

            All Might’s feet hit the ground near where they’d started, and Izuku hits the ground behind him. Throwing a punch leaves another one of those ripples, but Izuku is already moving after the feint. When he reaches All Might’s front side, he slams his feet through the floor of the lab and cocks his arm back.

            Maybe it’s too far, but he aims for All Might’s face. He wants to punch one of them, anymore from UA, more than anything right then. The punch doesn’t make it all the way, of course. Centimeters from All Might’s face, he stops.

            Izuku stands up, breathing heavily. All Might stares at him in shock as he rights himself, then grimaces.

            “Sorry. I… guess I was already moving when you stopped.” He mutters.

            “That was fabulous, you two. All Might, would you say that Midoriya-kun is worthy of a license?”

            “Eh… Um, Yes.” All Might coughs and clears his throat. “It would be a shame if he didn’t have one, given that level of combat aptitude!”

            “Perfect. That’s all for today, Midoriya-kun!”

            “That’s all, he says.” Izuku mutters, grabbing fistfuls of his hair while he turns and wanders towards the door. “Over a hundred bullets, three industrial saws, two giant robots and All Might, but hey that’s all for today Izuku…!”

            (He’s a little bit too wrapped up in his head to notice All Might staring at his back, or the way All Might turns around and stares at the battered, nearly shredded wall and ceiling of the testing room.)

- 

            Nezu rewinds the footage for the fifth time and hits play. On his left, Power Loader is still staring at the video with limp hands while Snipe mutters something like a mantra. All Might comes walking in ten minutes after the end of the test, only after Nezu had called down to the hero manually, and his skinny form takes the empty seat beside Present Mic.

            The video of the fight is three minutes long and fourteen seconds long, but every second contains entire segments of the fight. After the first minute, where they’d caught a rough idea of what was happening, the sparring room had basically exploded with motion and blasts of air. Slowed down to play at millions of frames per second the pair were still moving almost normally. Nezu can finally see what Tsukauchi was talking about.

            “About how far did he push you, All Might?” Nezu asks calmly. The heroes perk up, probably looking for some kind of reassurance in their Symbol of Peace. All Might clears his throat, staring at the segments of the fight’s end.

            “At first I thought maybe Midoriya was faster than he was strong, and that his speed was the major factor.” All Might swallows weakly. “But that doesn’t seem to be the case. He’s extremely careful about how much power he puts into each blow, to the point of using too little power against me. If I had to guess… I’d say that Midoriya is easily as strong as my eighty percent. He nearly exhausted everything I can use in a day in those three minutes.”

            Nezu nods, playing the ending in even slower motion. Something had happened in the middle of the fight. Probably tension at the way he was treated, but whatever it was had left Midoriya angry. The final blow had Midoriya’s strongest punch, a blow that had almost punched a hole in the facility.

            “We’ll have to keep things quiet. At this point, he’s strong enough that we need to be worried, but his nature is heroic. For now, nothing goes through official means. All Might, call Tsukauchi. I need to talk with him. The higher ups in the Police Force aren’t in the loop regarding Midoriya’s situation for a good reason. I’d like to keep it that way for now.” Nezu says, pulling the video from the screen and saving it before transferring the feed to his portable tablet. A grin sends shudders through the heroes. “Oh, come now! He’s on our side, my friends. And what an interesting child! You should be ecstatic.”

            “I’ve never enjoyed shooting the children, Nezu.” Snipe mutters. “He didn’t even look like he could take it. That… I’m pretty sure he hates me for that.”

            “That’s ridiculous. All you did was shoot him a few times.” Nezu waves a paw, striding for the door without looking back. “Besides, he already hates heroes in general. All Might made sure of that. If he’s still heroic after All Might crushed his dreams, I don’t see anything that could turn him against us!”

            A chuckle escapes the principal as he wanders out of the (newly-bloodstained) room.

- 

            His mother chuckles when he collapses onto the couch of their “borrowed” rooms.

            “Tough day of testing, Izuku?”

            “Why do heroes always get me shot…?” He groans into the pillows.

            “It’s one thing to see you being strong honey but hearing that you’re bulletproof is pushing it.” Inko sighs. She drops onto the couch and cards her fingers through his hair. “I’m a bit surprised they’re going to all this trouble, though. You really made quite the impact.”

            Izuku groans again, and his mother laughs.

            “We’ll be home soon. I’m sure everything will be fine, Izuku.”

            “Mmffff.”

            “Language young man.”

            “Blame the villains.” Inko sighs at his response, then chuckles and stands up.

            “Well, I suppose you can’t be perfect, eh? But let me think you’re my little boy for a little bit longer. Come help me make dinner.”

            “Katsudon again?”

            “The heroes are paying.” His mother winks conspiratorially from the fridge. “And you haven’t complained for the last week.”

            “Are you kidding, your cooking is the only thing keeping me from losing my mind.”

            Halfway through the meal he looks up at her.

            “Mom…?” The smile she gives him said it all.

            “You want to take care of her, right? When that little girl wakes up?” Izuku nods, and his mother smiles as she shakes her head. “I swear, you’re too kind for your own good, Izuku. Do you even have to ask?”

            “I just… I know that I’m already pushing it on our budget, and…”

            “Don’t you worry about that for one second.” Inko snapped and pointed her chopsticks at him. “I wouldn’t leave her with anyone else after some villain threw her at me, and you said she’s a target? Even if you were quirkless, I wouldn’t trust that girl’s safety with anyone else before you.”

            Izuku chuckles softly at her lecture.

            “Ever since you got this… whatever it is,” She continued, smiling once again, “I’ve been thinking that it might be for something important. That maybe you got this power specifically. And you know something, Izuku? You prove that to be the case more and more every day you have it.”

            “M…Mom…?” Izuku’s voice trembles as she turns watery eyes to her bowl.

            “We’ll figure something out, sweetie. We always do.” She says wistfully.

            “You’re the best mom ever.” He grins wide and Inko giggles.

            “Oh stop! I’m just a housewife, you know.”

            “Everyone knows to be afraid of housewives! If we got you a minivan, it would make it twice as bad…”

            “My driving is not that bad, you…!”

            “We’d still have a car if that were the case, mom.”

            “Not everyone can leap tall buildings in a single bound.”

            “Eh?! It was ONE TIME, and I only jumped ten stories!”

            “You WHAT?!”

            “Fucking…”

            “Midoriya Izuku, LANGUAGE!”

- 

            The call comes in the next day while he’s on his run (Nezu will eventually have him replace the trees he tore down by hand, not that it makes him regret it) and he has to rush back to the infirmary.

            Recovery Girl frowns at him as he stumbles into the hallway outside the infirmary, staring at the group of assembled ‘knowing’ people (plus Midoriya Inko, gods bless her soul for what he had gotten her wrapped up in).

            “Why is everyone waiting out here?” He stammers. Nezu grins as soon as he stumbles into view.

            “Ah, good! She’s asking for you, Midoriya-kun!”

            “What?!”

            “The little girl woke up and refuses to let anyone close without screaming. She’s forced herself into a corner, and she keeps whispering about the ‘nice green boy’. Not that we know how she knows your color scheme.” Recovery Girl groans. “Normally I’d sedate her, but needles set her off. Considering the reaction she had to me getting anywhere near her, Nezu and I decided you’re our best bet at calming her down.”

            “Oh. Um…” Izuku scratches his head a little bit, then stalks through the crowd up to the door. “Well, here goes...”

            Inside, the little girl is in fact holed up in the corner. Sparks dance up the length of her horn, leaving Izuku a little bit worried. Her eyes are open, revealing shimmering, tearful red irises peering up at him from the blanket she’d commandeered as her cover.

            “Hi there…” He says, squatting onto the balls of his feet and grinning across the room. She stops shivering the moment he smiles at her, and her mouth parts as if she’s just realized something. “Sorry it took me so long to get here.”

            “Mi…” The little girl stumbles over the word so much that Izuku feels his heart get pulled in five different directions.

            “You can just call me Izuku.” He says quietly. That’s all it takes for the little girl to drop the blanket and charge across the room, flinging herself into his arms as sobs rack her body. When she buries her face in his chest and whimpers, he feels as if he’s just walked out into a warm spring afternoon. Something switches on even as all the worry and anxiety of the past ten days shrug off his shoulders, and the warmth of wrapping the little girl in his arms fills him with something that he hasn’t felt since that day.

            The day he decided he needed a new dream.

            “It’s okay,” He whispers, pulling her head tight against his chest, despite the horn rising from her forehead. “It’s okay now, I’ve got you. I’m here… You’re safe.”

            For the first time since he met All for One, the black hole tucked away in the back of his head sends a wave of pleasant heat through his body instead of twisting his stomach into knots. When the little girl looks up at him with tearstained eyes, he smiles as wide as he can and tightens his hold on her.

            “I’ll be your hero, okay? No one’s ever gonna hurt you again.” Through a break in the tears, the little girl blinks. Izuku takes the moment to wipe the tears away and run a hand over her head. “I promise.”

            “Y-you… you’re a hero…?” The little girl whimpers through a cracked throat. Izuku grins despite the hurt in his chest.

            “I’m your hero.”

            The little girl falls asleep crying in his arms, gripping his shirt like a security blanket. Izuku keeps her pressed to his chest the entire time Recovery Girl checks her out, refusing anything that separates them. As angry as the nurse seems, he catches her smiling at him wryly.

            His mother rolls her eyes when he says that he’s sleeping in the infirmary that night.

            “I can’t even complain about you being a father at sixteen if you look like that, Izuku.”

            He squawks as she leaves the room, calling something about bringing dinner for them both later on.

-

            Twelve days after he stormed UA, Izuku is finally allowed to go home.

            Izuku frowns as Tsukauchi points out the new security features in their home, and he barely waits until Cementoss is out of earshot before he gives the detective a flat look.

            “Who has access to those cameras?” He thought the detective was smarter than this, but the way the man’s eyebrows rise into his hair prove that the detective wasn’t expecting this.

            “Only you two, unless something trips the alarm. Which sends everything to both Nezu’s office and the police station.” Tsukauchi says. Izuku adjusts Eri against his shoulder, where she’s almost taken a permanent perch. Her hands grip his neck while he keeps her pressed against his side, and her eyes scan everything.

            “That’s fine, then.”

            “Midoriya-kun…”

            “Just being careful, detective-san.” Izuku sighs. “I’m going to show Eri the apartment.”

            His meetings with the detective have been short and brusque. Neither of them is comfortable with the other, though Izuku continues to hate the way Tsukauchi treats him. Just like All Might does, which stings. They don’t get to treat him like a child.

            Eri digs her face into his neck when he opens the door to his home. He smiles softly as she peers out with one glittering eye.

            “Welcome home, Eri.” He whispers. Her hands shake as he walks to the living room, pausing only to show her the door to his room. After a long walk through every room, he and his mother sit down on the sofa and wait.

            “…You… you shouldn’t have brought me here…” Eri’s voice is hoarse as she starts shivering. “He’s going to…”

            “He’s going to have to go through me.” Izuku’s voice tightens when he pulls the little girl close. “And nothing goes through me, Eri.”

            “B-but…”

            “Shhhh…” Izuku runs a hand through her hair gently, smiling when she turns her eyes up to him. “Remember what I said when we came in?”

            Her eyes wrinkle up as she chews her lip. The words form silently as she tears up. Izuku tips her eyes back up to his.

            “You’re home, Eri-chan. And I’m going to keep you safe, no matter what.” Izuku grins until his cheeks hurt. “I promised you, didn’t I?”

            Eri bites her lip a little harder, then throws herself into his side with a choked cry.

            “Please don’t leave me alone…”

            Izuku quietly crumples his frustration into a ball, tosses into the black hole that All for One had left tucked in the back of his mind.

            The next day, he calls his friends. Kābā and Tachibana come by later in the afternoon, then stare at him blankly as he gives them the rundown. According to the ‘story’ Nezu has, Eri ran up to him while he was on his run (the location seemed suspicious but Izuku has time to check that later) and she’d been glued to his side ever since, until they had no choice but to appoint Izuku and his mother as her adopted family.

            When Eri gets lost in Tachibana’s smile and her color changing eyes, Izuku wonders why he’d ever worried about his friends. Kābā gifts her a small statue of a unicorn that manages to peel her from his side, and the glee on Kābā’s face is almost as precious as the way Eri’s jaw drops as she runs her hands over the little horse. Almost.

            Tachibana and Ruby and Inko take over the next trip to the mall. Izuku is left in the eye of a hurricane as the three women carve through the shops looking for Eri’s new belongings. On the other hand, he can’t help much with Eri in his arms, clinging to him and whimpering in fright every time a new person coos over how adorable she is. What he never expected is the number of business cards that clerks shoved into his hands.

            “Just give us a call if you ever need anything for the little girl, okay? You’re doing great.” Izuku doesn’t want to think about all the women who smirked at him during the trip. It makes him blush, which confuses Eri and makes him blush more.

            Considering how small their apartment is, Izuku ends up with a slightly larger bed and an additional set of… everything stacked up inside. He’s lucky that Kābā has more muscle than he seems, because even having ridiculous strength and reflexes doesn’t help when half of one’s body is dedicated to the clinginess of a little girl. The re-arrangement of his room leaves him with barely enough space at his desk, a bookshelf that reaches his ceiling tucked behind the door, two dressers stacked up near the foot of the bed and a small folding screen for when Eri decides she wants to change clothes.

            Getting back to his routine takes some time. At first, he’d elected to do parts of it while Eri was sleeping (he’d commissioned a rack from Power Loader, one that collapsed and could fit in their living room without too much trouble), but nerves left him feeling inadequate with only that much. His mother was slowly taking over with Eri where she could, and he was a little ashamed at his relief when Eri agreed to a morning without him in the house.

            The further he gets from his house, the more shocked he is.

            People are everywhere. For the first time ever, they’re swarming him just for jogging down the street. They come out of their shops, ignoring customers and duties and jobs to talk to him for ten, twenty minutes at a time. Gifts materialize when he tells them his mother is taking care of an orphaned relative, one who clings to his side like a part of him. Everyone he knows wants a photo with him, and for some reason he agrees… but only if he gets one as well.

            He hates the pose that he chooses, even if everyone loves the ‘peace sign’ thing. All Might is still a bit of a sore spot. The Symbol of Peace had basically disappeared after their spar, which was both a blessing and a curse. It left them… somewhere. Where, Izuku wasn’t sure.

            Eri’s little giggle when he tells her about his trips make it all worth it, though. She loves the pictures, and he gets them all framed eventually.

            At the end of the month, his friends ask after Eri.

            She still hasn’t smiled once, even with the little puffs of laughter and the days she spends with awestruck eyes and hands running over her picture books. Nightmares leave her sobbing into his chest, and even if it isn’t more than once a night, he can’t deny that it’s moved his rage from the back of his mind to the space beside his heart. Every single night he has to rock her back to sleep leaves him more and more furious, so much so that he’s constantly burning up.

            They thought he was joking until Tachibana yelped just from putting a hand on his forehead.

            None of them really know how to help, so Izuku smiles and tells them it’ll be fine. It’s not the weirdest thing that’s happened, right?

            (None of them really know how to respond to that, so they visit Eri instead and spend the day with the Midoriyas doing last minute summer homework and chatting about nothing in general.)

 -                     

            To say that Izuku doesn’t like heroes is a bit too far, depending on the day. Still, not keeping up with the local hero names and the hero boards would be sacrilege, and he’s at least more knowledgeable than most on those topics. After breaking into UA, he’s basically the adopted step-child of the hero industry and knows far, far too much about the teachers working there to consider them anything other than… distant family? Friends isn’t quite right.

            Needless to say, none of that stops him from gaping at the red wings sticking out of Suzuki-san’s ramen stand. After a moment of internal debate, he drags a hand down his face and shuffles towards the shop with a rapidly darkening mood.

            Suzuki-san and his family run the shop, though only Suzuki-san ever seems happy to see Izuku there. His wife isn’t a morning person, and their son (a middle schooler) doesn’t seem to like being dragged out of bed to open the shop early. Izuku bows awkwardly as he takes a seat beside the single other customer in the shop, ignoring the sudden scowl on the young man’s face as he catches Izuku shuffling in.

            Izuku isn’t sure why Suzuki-san was so determined to open the shop early on Wednesdays. Opening early just for one person is a bit much, even if Izuku did help them however he could when he jogged by.

            “So…” Izuku mutters, shooting a sidelong glance at the man beside him. “Um…”

            Hawks grins at him around a mouthful of noodles and continues slurping, nodding as if to encourage him to say whatever it is he has to say. Izuku cocks an eyebrow at him before he shakes himself and does just that.

            “You weren’t on the list…” Izuku mutters, locking eyes on Suzuki-kun’s back as the boy storms off towards the back hallway. “Why exactly are you here?”

            “Ahhh…” Hawks leans back in his chair as he finishes slurping down the mouthful. “You know, you really can’t get the same taste from big stores. Takes getting out into the little places, shops like this. Makes a trip like this worth it.”

            “Mmhmm.” Izuku leans against a hand, sighing through his nose and resigning himself to a long talk.

            “I think it’s something about the time. Really putting in effort for each customer…” Hawks taps a finger on his chin.

            “That ramen is the same thing they sell in every fast food joint around Musutafu.” Izuku says quietly. “Suzuki-san copied the recipe for fun because no one around here knows the difference.”

            “…Oh.” Hawks glanced at the bowl, then shrugged and sank his chopsticks back into the soup. “Well, if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.”

            “What are you doing here, exactly?” Izuku snaps, staring as Hawks slurps even louder at the meal. After almost a full minute, the hero takes another deep breath and grins like a satisfied cat.

            “I’ve been asking around, heard you come by here on Wednesday mornings.” Hawks says.

            “Why does the Number Three Hero need to talk to a nobody like me?” Izuku frowns. Hawks chuckles.

            “You really sell that act? Everyone around here knows you’re that green vigilante. No point in hiding it. But, for what it’s worth, I’m here about that villain you took down before you disappeared.” Hawks grins at him slyly for a moment before he takes another bite of his meal.

            “What, the… The Subterranean King?” Izuku has to fish for the name. After almost a month, the villain was less than a footnote in his ‘accomplishments’ list. “That guy?”

            “I wouldn’t call it a ‘guy’… But yeah, that one.” Hawks says quietly. Izuku frowns as the hero half turns to face him.

            “What about him?” Izuku mutters.

            “I just happened to take on the Sky King only a week ago.” Hawks gives him a look, something crossed between self-indulgence and commiserating, that Izuku doesn’t appreciate. “I wanted to pick your brain.”

            “There’s a Sky King…?” Izuku digs a hand into his hair and scratches his head. “But… Then, wouldn’t there be…”

            “More?” Hawks mutters, setting his sticks over the bowl and leaning on the bar. “We should assume so. Besides, they aren’t human.”

            “What?” Izuku’s eyes bugged out some as Hawks’ expression turned serious. “Not… I mean, but then…!”

            “Whatever they are, every one of the enemies I defeated weren’t human. They had human DNA, apparently,” Hawks shrugs and turns his eyes to the remaining soup in his bowl. “And quirks, but they weren’t actually human. They spoke of conquering mankind, as if there were more. Worse, they claimed that they were scouting because someone defeated the Subterranean King. The fight just happened because I heard of some odd activity over the area.”

            Izuku sighs, then shuts his eyes and lets that information spin through his head, trying to slot it into place.

            “When I fought the Subterranean King, they… There were more creatures in the hole.” He says quietly, waving hello to Suzuki-san as the man peeks out from the back hall. “Apparently, they were gone when they sealed the hole, but still…”

            “You took one of the swords that he used, right?” Hawks smirks at Izuku’s frown. “No one is looking for it, kid, just tell me.”

            “Maybe. It wasn’t normal, and I don’t really…”

            “Trust the police to fully investigate?” Hawks sighs. “I can’t blame you. Just so you know, they’re a bit too busy to worry about outliers like this. Someone is putting together an investigation team, but it’s going to be a while before they realize you stole that sword. For now, the Police Force is telling everyone to ‘be ready’.”

            “That won’t work…” Izuku huffs.

            “Well, the only people who’ve beaten these things are the third ranked hero and a quirkless middle schooler…”

            “I’m in high school…” Izuku grumbles, glaring at the grinning hero.

            “Guess my intel is old. Maybe no one is taking this seriously, but at least we know something.” Hawks grins wider, sending a shiver running down Izuku’s spine. “Can I trust you for help if another King pops up?”

            Something about that smile reminds Izuku of Nezu.

            “…Why are you even asking me? I’m a quirkless high schooler, a vigilante.” Izuku mutters. Hawks hums to himself, reinforcing the similarity to Nezu.

            “Call it a bet.” Hawks says. Izuku sighs when the hero drops a massive wad of cash on the counter and stands up, pushing out towards the street. Before Izuku can stand up, a red feather pins a card to the bar in front of him and zips back outside.

            Hawks is gone when Izuku looks over his shoulder. Izuku turns the card over in his hands and quietly decides that heroes only exist to make his life difficult. None of them were ever sane to begin with.

 -             

            “Look, Kābā, anytime you want to come over and give Eri art lessons that’s fine but…” Izuku pauses as he hears the firecrackers pop. The world drags to a halt as an older part of his mind wakes up and starts screaming at him. He’s already glancing around in a panic when he realizes it’s too late. Narrowed red eyes meet wide green ones as Izuku looks back to the corner they’d just passed

            “Deku? The fuck ‘re you doing out here?” Bakugō snarls, already glancing over their group as he stalks closer. He’s dressed in casual clothes, a red t-shirt and pants hanging loosely off his waist.

            Almost immediately, Izuku feels the casual air around his friends shifting. Kābā frowns as he steps out, not putting himself between the pair but standing in front of Sokuchi. Tachibana’s eyes flare red and orange and yellow-green as she also puts herself in front of Sokuchi despite the difference in their height.

            Meanwhile, Izuku panics.

It’s his own fault, really. At some point in the months since starting high school, Izuku forgot one of the most important parts of his routine. But with his friends dragging him towards one of the local shopping areas, instead of heading for the station, he hadn’t paid enough attention.

            Two weeks. He nearly made it two whole weeks without Tachibana yelling at him. Quietly, he wonders if Tachibana worries over him the way he worries over Eri. At this point, he can probably get her a gift without it being weird, right? She deserves at least that much for putting up with him for this long.

            “We’re just, y’know, going shopping.” Izuku bites out as meets Bakugō’s glare. He throws a glance at the prickly group beside him and tries to smile. “These are my friends from school.”

            Bakugō looks them over and snorts, then glares at Izuku again.

            “Where the fuck have you been?”

            Avoiding anywhere close to your house. Izuku kicks himself for letting his guard down.

            “Just, uh, around?” Izuku cards a hand through his hair. “I take the train over to my school now, so…”

            “That doesn’t explain shit, Deku, we use the same station.” Bakugō says. Kābā’s frown turns into a sneer as he looks back and forth between them, and Izuku decides he’s not up for this.

            “Did you need something, Bakugō?” Izuku sighs.

            For a second, everyone pauses. His friends are still measuring the situation, but Bakugō looks like he’s just been slapped. At least, he does to Izuku. There’s a tiny widening of the eyes and a lack of ‘murder’ in his frown that gives it away.

            Then Bakugō’s expression morphs into something familiar and a small flash lights up one hand.

            “The fuck did you just say to me, Deku?” Bakugō snarls and takes a step forward. Izuku throws up a hand between Kābā and Bakugō, which stops the blonde in his tracks. Kābā gives Izuku a look, one that Izuku can’t really unpack (either his friend is upset that he doesn’t get to fight, or he’s offended that Izuku thought he would fight Bakugō in the first place) just before Izuku steps forward.

            Bakugō is taller than he is when he straightens up, of course, so Izuku has to look up to meet his glare as Izuku steps in front of his friends. Before Izuku can get his runaway train of thought under control, it comes crashing to a halt.

            He’s not as tall as All Might was.

            Izuku blinks, then glances up and down Katsuki’s frame.

            “I asked if you needed something, Bakugō.” Izuku says evenly. Bakugō sighs hard enough that Izuku imagines steam coming out his nose as he pushes further into Izuku’s space.

            “Don’t go thinking you’re better than me just cause you found a couple of extras who can tolerate your shit, Deku.” Bakugō snaps. “Or are you just following them around like you used to follow me? I’ll bet it’s lonely now that there’s no one to kick your sorry ass around anymore.”

            “You got some mouth on you…!”

            “Kābā, let’s just go.” Izuku cuts them all off in a single round and turns, smiling pleadingly. They glare at him, then over his shoulders as he tries pushing them in the other direction. Despite the tension between them all, Izuku finally manages to get his party down the block and back on their way. After another block, though, Kābā glares at him.

            “Who was that, Midoriya? And why was he calling you Deku?”

            He doesn’t need to look back at Tachibana and Sokuchi to know that they’re curious too, but he looks anyways. Then he sighs and scratches the back of his head.

            “He and I grew up together. When he got his quirk and I didn’t, things kinda… went sour.” Izuku’s mouth twists as he tries to wrestle down his old instincts. “Deku was what they used to call me, cause without a quirk I’m useless.”

            “They?” Sokuchi’s eyebrows pinch. “More than just him?”

            “I was a hero nerd who couldn’t fight or do… anything, really.” Izuku’s smile is probably sad, but it’s funny looking back at those times. “My grades were good but that was it. Everyone knew I wouldn’t make it but me.”

            “Seriously?” Kābā frowns. Izuku shrugs.

            “Bakugō was the only one who ended up with the skills. He’s at UA, now. That class that got attacked.” Izuku says, staring at the crossing signal as it orders them to wait.

            “You went chasing a serial killer for that prick?” Tachibana doesn’t sound happy about it, but she doesn’t do more than grumble. Izuku laughs at the way she says it.

            “It’s fine, really. He’s not… I mean, Bakugō isn’t a nice person but he’s…” Izuku turns it over in his head for a bit. “He’s going to be a good hero. And it’s all in the past, anyways.”

            “When I joked about you having a tragic Shonen backstory I didn’t expect it to be so…” Tachibana wrinkles her nose as they cross the street. “Spikey.”

            “Like an angry Pomeranian.” Sokuchi mumbles. Izuku makes a choked sound at the comparison as Kābā and Tachibana snicker. Watching the stoic girl crack a smile is worth it, even if their trip started off badly.

            “Sorry for dragging this all down.” Izuku mutters, staring at his feet as the laughter trails off. “I normally avoid this area of town so I don’t run into him…”

            “You’re actively avoiding that guy?” Kābā snorts. “You go running into burning buildings but you’re afraid of a guy who’s got firecrackers for hands?”

            “Can we please stop talking about the burning building thing? And… you know what, just don’t talk about any of it.” Izuku grumbles.

            “Not a chance, bunny boy.” Kābā grins as he throws an arm over Izuku’s shoulder. “Seriously though, if you wanna get back at him I’ve got some great ideas already…”

            “Kābā, we are not getting anywhere close to Bakugō.” Izuku says flatly.

            “All I’m saying is that with a block of concrete, we can drop a statue of that guy’s head on a Pomeranian in his yard, no problem.”

            “I’d rather not get that dog any more riled up than he is.” Izuku mutters, earning a sigh of defeat from the others. Tachibana moves up to his side and pokes him in the ribs as her eyes turn black and gold.

            “So… How does it feel having more field experience than the hero student?” She asks innocently, stifling a grin. Izuku rolls his eyes as Kābā shakes him a bit. By the time they make it to the next block, Bakugō is all but forgotten and Izuku is laughing at another of Sokuchi’s one liners.  

 -

            Eri still wakes up having nightmares, even when the summer break draws to a close. Despite all her progress being around his friends and being left with his mother. She’ll always scream about a man in a bird mask, and she absolutely hates when people wear gloves around her. Izuku, for the life of him, can’t imagine the sort of things that would cause this. Trying to imagine them only ever makes him angrier. And he doesn’t have anywhere to put that anger, so it all goes into the black hole tucked near his heart.

Chapter Text

            7: Exposure

            School starts up without too much fuss. Izuku drops in early to gift Kurobayashi-sensei some sushi that he’s saved up to buy (the good kind, considering he probably couldn’t get away with giving cheap fish to a shark…) and to ask the teacher how his summer went. He very narrowly avoids discussing his own summer and slips back to the classroom long before the first bell.

            Then, just before lunch, he hears something screaming towards the school from overhead. Considering his seat is on the same side of the room as the door, he can’t exactly lean over and check. Waiting gets his knee bouncing faster and faster as the noise grows closer.

            “Midoriya, I know it’s almost lunch but please-”

            A crash shakes the school before his sensei can finish. Izuku is already looking out of the windows before the shaking stops and anyone else can get up. He frowns at the strange metal object that just shattered the pavement outside. Steam hisses off of it, smoke pours out of the exhaust engines, and the rapidly cooling metal turns from orange to blue to green t purple to gray in the sun.

            When panels start popping out of the sides, Izuku groans and trudges towards the door.

            “Midoriya, get back here!” He pauses by the door and waves, smiling awkwardly at his teacher. The man stares at him with wide eyes as his other students flood the windows. “What are you thinking, we’re under attack!”

            “I’m just…” Izuku’s brain runs out of excuses at the worst possible time, so he just sighs and drops the smile. Then he opens up his wallet and throws the battered piece of paper at his teacher before he walks out. When he’s in the hallway he steps a little quicker, reaching the street in roughly a minute despite the distance. He probably tore the floor up, but that’s the least of his worries.

            He watches the metal pod-thing gradually pop out more and more pieces, all rotating and re-assembling themselves into a whole. Eventually he’s standing in front of a robot with a vaguely humanoid top half resting on six legs. Somehow, it’s about as broad as Kurobayashi-sensei, or broader, which is saying something. It seems like it doubled its own width while putting itself together and that’s a little bit insane.

            “Greetings.” The voice of the machine is surprisingly human, despite the digital inflection. Izuku’s eyebrows raise a little when it extends a hand for a handshake. “I am officially designated Seventeen. How are you today?”

            “Uh… I’m good.” Izuku shakes the metal hand, not bothering to hide his shock. Green lenses cut to sharp angles give the eyes a mean expression… In fact, everything about it seems designed to intimidate. At the same time, this is the most civil conversation he’s had with a stranger in a while. “Do you have an actual name, or should I just call you Seventeen?”

            “Unofficially, I’m known as Sonic Spider.” The machine’s voice lilts as if it’s pleased. Izuku nods.

            “Alright Sonic Spider, could you explain why you just crash landed here? And… please don’t say aliens.”

            “My mother has given me a mission to fulfill, and Mk. Four gave me this address.” Sonic Spider turns its eyes to the school, turning the lenses from green to blue. “I am searching for the anomaly.”

            “Anomaly…” Izuku frowns. “Care to explain who that anomaly is? Or what makes them…”

            He trails off and smacks his hand against his forehead as the machine turns to face him.

            “The anomaly is an individual with strength that cannot be measured normally.” Sonic Spider intones. Izuku sighs.

            “Yeah… yeah that’s about how this sort of thing goes.” After a second, he scratches his head and looks up at the machine. “I’m your anomaly. What can I do for you?”

            “Target acquired. Beginning Subroutine: Testing.” Sonic Spider’s eyes turn from blue to red as plates and various things retract into the chest. Izuku guesses that it would be for streamlining purposes, but he doesn’t actually care enough to pay that much attention anymore.

            “We don’t have to do this, you know.” Izuku frowns as the machine’s hands turn from humanoid appendages with odd armor into wicked sharp claws. “Plus, you seem well made. I don’t just wanna destroy you if you don’t give me a reason.”

            “My intelligence is stored with Mother and updated at a pace of microseconds.” The tone changes into something tinged with static, turning a pleasant voice into something darker and more sinister. “My orders are to assess the anomaly.”

            “I could just give you a demonstration…”

            “Subroutine: Testing is the only valid demonstration.” A hiss of steam leaves the machine’s neck vents before the eyes flash red. “Mother sends her regards.”

            Izuku sidesteps as the strike shatters more pavement. Despite the lack of hydraulics and other obvious machinery, the machine is strong. He frowns for a few reasons as he steps back from the next swipe, letting himself speed up beyond the machine’s capabilities.

            Someone sent this after me here at school. They know who I am… they chose to do this now of all times… Damn it, Tachibana is going to kill me. Now I really do have to get her something.

            He’s lost track of his ‘gear’ metaphors for his speed. Now he only knows that he can feel the wind dragging on his face and see the flickering of the LED behind the lenses of Sonic Spider’s eyes. Everything moves at a snail’s pace as he steps forward and hops into the air. From overhead, he sets a hand on the head and flips over the top to fall behind it.

            On the way down, he pulls.

            The frame of the machine groans as he crushes it beneath his palm like papier-mâché. When he touches down and peels his hand from the carcass, he sighs.

            “Well done.” Izuku’s eyes widen as the voice emanates from the machine again. “Now beginning self-destruct sequence…”

            Before Izuku can fully react to that the machine sizzles and begins to dissolve. He’d been ready to throw it away from the school given a real explosion, but the foam eating away at the metal is almost as terrifying as a real bomb. It eats through the pavement beneath the metal as it drips off the frame. Eventually, nothing but a small cylinder of silver metal remains. From inside, a different voice speaks. This one is definitely human, and definitely female.

            “Congratulations, anomaly #2! You’ve caught the attention of the greatest inventor known to man!” Izuku grabs the metal cylinder, which opens a tiny slit on the side and slides out a business card. On the white background, in shiny black letters, is a name and an address.

            Hatsume Mei

            UA high school Support Course

            For several moments Izuku stares at the card with blood buzzing through his ears. Then he pockets the card and walks back towards the school building. When he reaches his classroom, the students are staring at him with wide eyes. Kābā is grinning at him from his desk.

            “Yo, Midoriya! Nice work, as always.” Apparently, Kābā’s casual attitude leaves his classmates even more speechless. Izuku should probably smile at the way his friend says it, but he can’t at the moment. Kābā notices immediately and rushes him with a worried look. “Hey, dude, you all right? What’s wrong?”

            Wordlessly, he hands the business card to Kābā, who looks up at him with wide eyes.

            “You mean that she made…?” Izuku nods. Kābā frowns. “And she knows you’re…?”

            “Yep.”

            “But you didn’t know she…”

            “Nope.”

            “Then UA…”

            “Uh huh.” Izuku growls the last words and has to take a few deep breaths.

            “Damn…” Kābā mutters. “Sorry man. That’s really not cool.”

            “It’s fine.” Izuku says flatly. He drops into his desk, dropping the metal cylinder in his bag and carding his hands through his hair. “Just… I’ll deal with it later.”

            “You mean afterschool?” Kābā asks. “You need anything? Tachi-chan and I can head over to check up on Eri.”

            “No, I’ll take her with me. Recovery Girl wanted a checkup this week anyways.” Izuku sighs. “Tachibana-san is going to kill me for going out there isn’t she.”

            “Oh hell yeah. You’re a dead man. Thanks for saving the rest of us though.”

            “Fuck…”

            “Did you just swear? Midoriya Izuku where did you learn that word?!” Kābā snickers when Izuku finally cracks a smile.

            “Er… Midoriya…?” Izuku glances up at his teacher, who’s just reached his podium with the unfolded doctor’s note in his hand. “This says you’re quirkless?”

            “Oh, yeah.” Izuku shrugs. “It’s self-defense.”

            “I…” The man looks close to tears. Izuku can sympathize. “I’m not sure I follow.”

            “Honestly sensei?” Izuku looks the man in the eyes with the flattest expression he can muster. “It’s better for you guys if you pretend nothing happened.”

            “R-right…”

            “Midoriya, you can’t just threaten our teacher like that, man.”

            “I wasn’t…”

            “Well yeah, I know that, but he doesn’t.” Kābā laughs. “They all think you’re a serial killer remember?”

            Izuku pales.

            “I forgot…” Kābā cackles at the way he says it and makes his way back to his desk.

            “Never change, Midoriya!” When Kābā sits down he grins at the kids still standing by the windows. “Guys, he cries when his shoe comes untied, you’re fine. Plus, he’s gonna die when lunchtime comes around…”

            “It’s always the left shoe, Kābā, it’s not fair…!”

            Kābā doesn’t stop laughing for a long time. Class doesn’t resume for a while either. No one stops him when he laughs himself to tears just before the bell. Izuku feels a little bit betrayed.

 -

            As it happens, Recovery Girl has Midnight there in the infirmary when Izuku arrives. They put Eri under and Izuku explains with a tight voice that he needs Recovery Girl to watch Eri for a little while. She takes one look at his face and sighs.

            “Whatever they did, make sure you give them hell for it, kiddo.” She mutters. He nods and storms out, leaving a very confused Midnight behind with Eri’s slumbering form. Izuku doesn’t knock, he storms into the office without warning and glares at Nezu. The principal seems like he’s been waiting, and he’s not smiling.

            “Midoriya-kun. I heard you’d come to visit. If this has…”

            “I was actually starting to believe you.” Izuku says quietly. There’s enough force to cut the principal off without him raising his voice. “You never said you weren’t watching me, but I was starting to trust that you might have been someone I could count on.”

            The principal doesn’t say anything, so he continues.

            “Where is Hatsume?” Izuku asks. Nezu’s eyes close as the principal sighs, then he hops off his chair and heads for the door.

            “You might be upset,” The creature begins, leading Izuku through the halls, “But I never lied. Keeping Hatsume hidden from the outside world has been one of our priorities since we realized that she was like you.”

            “How is she like me?” Izuku glares at the principal’s back.

            “Somehow, Hatsume Mei can invent things that are at least fifty years ahead of even most classified technology. Despite out best efforts she isn’t exactly containable with that sort of knowledge, so we give her projects. Until now there hasn’t been a breach of security, but I suppose I should have seen this happening. I never expected that you were the target of that launch earlier.” Nezu claims.

            “Then she’s an inventor. She’s not like me.” Izuku huffs.

            “Not in the same way. But she’s also an anomaly. A person who can do the impossible, with no help from any quirk.” The principal chirps. “My decision was to keep you from meeting in case things should go badly.”

            “’Go badly’.” Izuku snaps, halting in the middle of the hallway. “She sent an android to attack me at school, Nezu! What kind of hero student does that?”

            “Trust me, Midoriya-kun.” Nezu grins over his shoulder. “When I said that we can’t contain her, I meant it. You’ll see soon enough.”

            Izuku expects Nezu to lead him to the support labs. He’d been banned from those during his stay, after all. When Nezu gets into the elevator, Izuku hesitates before he steps in.

            “Quarantine lab, please.” Nezu chirps. The elevator closes silently and begins descending. Izuku glances at the principal and stares until the creature finally turns the smile his way. “I banned you from the labs because there were other students there, Midoriya-kun, not because of Hatsume. She’s been living in the quarantine labs since the beginning of her time here.”

            “You have a mad genius living in your school basement?” Izuku raises his eyebrows. Nezu blinks a few times, then lowers his voice.

            “She built this, actually. In three weeks.” Nezu said quietly. Izuku would have sworn the creature sounded tired. “And she never stops working. Keeping up with Hatsume has consumed a large portion of our budget already.”

            “…Oh.” Izuku mutters. Nezu’s smile twitches at the edges. Eventually Izuku begins to squirm. “How deep is the lab?”

            “Six stories below ground.”

            “Su-six…” Izuku gapes at the principal. “Why?”

            “Her inventions, as you learned firsthand, are not something we can allow on school grounds.” Nezu says. “Building it underground was a convenient measure, considering our fleet of robots and the quirks at our disposal.”

            Izuku turns his eyes to the door and waits quietly as the elevator slows to a stop. When it opens, his eyes nearly pop out of his skull.

            The quarantine lab isn’t a ‘lab’. Calling the room before him an aircraft hangar might have been closer to the mark but doesn’t do it justice. He glances up towards the rafters, past the machines suspended from lengths of chain and wire, measuring it somewhere close to three or four stories up. Judging from the design, the ceiling is a bit more than just an ordinary layer of metal and foundation.

            Laid out in front of him for the length of a football field, or perhaps a few football fields, is a mess of desks and husks of machinery. Tools, parts, diagrams… Everything in front of them is beyond Izuku. Nezu leads him through the maze easily, working towards the left side of the room. On the way, he can’t help but trip over a few things. Very few sources of light are actually left on, and the only reliable source of light is a faint blue bleeding through the cracks of a machine, coming from what Izuku can only assume is their destination. When the mess is left behind them and they walk into a wide “room”, Izuku stops dead in his tracks.

            “Ah, anomaly number two.” A familiar robot crab walks over, extending a hand. “Wonderful to see you again. I am officially designated Seventeen Mk. Two.”

            “Mhmm…” Izuku shakes the hand and nods along. The space in front of him is nearly the size of a house. On his left, a row of heavily used wooden tables line a wall covered in blueprints. Across the floor on the right-hand side, a series of computer screens form a semicircle around a wheeled computer chair and a wide, slightly curved desk. Directly in front of him, the third wall of the space is made of vintage tool boxes, with drawers erratically poking out and various parts or tools hanging over them. Cables and various pages of technical notes seemed tacked to pegboards mounted on that same wall.

            None of that bothers him much. Izuku’s eyes are locked on the machine above him, mounted to the wall.

            A thick pane of glass covers a massive array of blinking lights, cables and computer screens. Four metal beams extend from the wall, connected to a rig of metal rings that grew smaller and smaller as they closed in on a large black sphere hanging overhead. The contraption dominates the space of the lab, forming a shifting mechanical ceiling over the wide space that Izuku has just stepped into. If he had to guess, it must be fifty meters to a side with the empty space between each ring.

            And, if the sheer size and marvel of the contraption isn’t enough, the sphere in the middle turns a single bright LED on him the moment he walks through the “door”. Izuku shivers as the light coming from the orb dilates. Rings spin and supports hiss as the orb shifts and pushes itself in his direction, lowering until it hangs barely five feet from his face. The curvature of the rings and supports remind him of a human spine. Every few seconds the light blinks, as if the eye of some alien monster had pulled itself from the ceiling and taken an interest in him.

            “New guest identified. Records indicate you are anomaly number two.” The aperture narrows along a side as if it were squinting at him. “You are late.”

            Izuku blinks at the contraption in response. After two or three times, the machine inches closer and blinks back.

            “W-what… What even…”

            “Monitor-san, Midoriya-kun has had a very long day.” Nezu breaks in suddenly, grinning up at the eye as it twists and looks at the principal, who had crossed most of the empty space between the “door” and the far wall. For the first time, Izuku catches sight of a large tarp covering the floor, where a roughly humanoid shape of metal and wires is backlit by sparking lights. He blinks when the light dies, leaving the room significantly less ominous... Even with the gigantic metal creature.

            “Huh? Principal Nezu? Monitor, who’s that other one?” A welding mask appears over the shoulder of the mechanical contraption.

            “Listing anomaly number two as Midoriya-kun.” Izuku shudders as Nezu’s voice chimes from the sphere, then pales as it turns back towards him. “Nezu-san, what is an acceptable punishment for being several hours late to a meeting?”

            “What types of punishments have you found that don’t involve weapons?” Nezu’s grin widens a touch at the edges.

            “Does mild electrocution count as use of weaponry?”

            “Not quite, though it depends how you go about it. Most things like electric shock therapy, waterboarding, leeching, bleeding, even injection of addictive drugs have all been considered healthy treatments by humans in the past, and none of them explicitly involve weapons.” Nezu chuckles gleefully. “Humans have always been the biggest danger to themselves, even without war. Harming others is still considered an act of friendship today, though it’s mostly words!”

            “Hurting with words. I feel as though I’d need a module for that.”

            “CAN WE JUST…” Izuku’s shout cuts them both off, earning him a look from the orb and a sinister smile from the creature in the suit. “Not talk about hurting people. Or punishing people.”

            “I was simply asking a question. Interrupting our conversation was very rude. So far, you’ve given me even more reason to punish your behavior.” The orb pulled most of its neck(?) back towards the ceiling, leaving the brain… eye… orb suspended by three smaller rings and metallic supports. A straight line cut into the glow from the top, giving it a simulated glare.

            Izuku blinks, then frowns, then takes a deep breath and… sighs again. A hand drags down across his face.

            “This… This can’t be happening.” He mutters.

            “Are you suffering from hallucinations? My records indicate that electric shock therapy is one possible…”

            “No, no thanks, I’m good.” Izuku raises his hands, keeping his eyes closed and rubbing his hands across them. “It’s just an expression.”

            “I’m unfamiliar with that term.”

            “I believe Hatsume uses the term ‘babies’ in a similar fashion.” Nezu chimes in.

            “Updating my modules. Thank you for the lesson, Midoriya-chan.” Izuku glares at the orb as the light flickers on and off.

            “Quit laughing at me.” The machine stops the shutter when he snaps at it. He’s probably the only person in the world who would interpret the fluttering shutter as emotion, but he’s absolutely certain that it was doing that on purpose.

            “I am an artificial being. My vocal responses don’t include an output for laughter.” The shutter starts up again, and Izuku has to stomp down a pulse of anger. Even if he stomps out the biting remarks and the urge to tear the machine from the ceiling, it leaves him feeling too warm for his liking.

            “Whatever. Where’s Hatsume?” He sighs.

            “What what? I heard someone ask for me?” The welding mask pops up from behind the project again, much more intent on him now than they’d been on Nezu.

            “You’re Hatsume? Hatsume Mei?” Izuku glares as a short woman stalks out from behind the human sized metal figure and throws her welding mask over one shoulder. He shouldn’t be surprised when Spider catches it and sets it on one of the toolboxes.

            “Earth’s greatest inventor, at your service! Who’re you?” A pair of goggles cover her eyes, leaving a pair of bright green circles in the shadows where he assumes her face is.

            “Midoriya Izuku. You sent a robot to kill me earlier.” Izuku winces as she gets close and the glow form her goggles becomes painful. “Can you… turn on the lights or something? Those things are too bright.”

            “Monitor, lights!”

            “Yes Mother.” Izuku flinches as light floods Hatsume’s work area.

            Under real light, the machine above him isn’t nearly as terrifying. If it wasn’t being so annoying he’d take more time to admire it, but his eyes focus on the short, stocky woman that is Hatsume Mei. Baggy industrial pants cover her legs, despite the fact that she’s stripped down to a sports bra and covered in grease. The goggles slide up into her pink dreadlocks, revealing amber eyes with crosshairs and a manic grin that rivals Nezu’s.

            “I sent a robot to kill you?” Hatsume’s smile wavers for a second. “I didn’t try killing anyone today. Are you sure it was me?”

            “I…” Words fail him for a moment before Izuku sighs and pulls the cylinder out of his back pocket. “You sent a robot to attack me while I was at school. It self-destructed and spat this out.”

            Scratch that, her smile is even more terrifying than Nezu.

            “BROTHER!” Izuku yelps as she throws herself at him and wraps him in a hug. “You’re the other Anomaly!”

            “B-B-BROTHER…?!” Izuku hits the floor half a second later and Hatsume is rushing around him in a circle, grabbing his arms and sides and generally feELING HIM…! “Gah!”

            Hatsume barely bats an eye as he shoves her hands off his thigh.

            “Man, I expected you to be taller! You beat Seventeen though, so I guess you’re the real deal! This is so exciting!”

            Izuku stares at woman, still feeling vaguely violated.

            “What is wrong with you?” Hisses out of his mouth before he can stop it, earning him another ‘glare’ from Monitor.

            “I build things!” Hatsume throws her arms wide, then gestures at the monstrosity hanging from the ceiling. “And this guy builds himself, nowadays! He’s what got me the fancy title.”

            “Fancy title? Wait, who even came up with that Anomaly thing?” Izuku wheezes at Nezu. The principal hops off the chair near the computers and struts over, looking far too pleased for Izuku’s liking.

            “I did! So far, we’ve only encountered a handful of reports about individuals such as yourselves.” Nezu’s expression turns a touch more serious. “A girl who managed to construct a fully capable, evolving artificial intelligence. A boy who’s quirkless yet proves to be bulletproof.”

            Izuku catches the look of appraisal from Hatsume and crosses his arms.

            “No way. Forget it.”

            “You’re not the only ones,” Nezu barks, putting more force into his words. “We’ve got reports of others, though most of it is only rumors. At first we called them Wild Quirks, but you two proved that it isn’t necessarily quirks. Somehow, a select group of people are evolving at a pace that should be impossible. Anomaly was the only thing that fit, given the data we had.”

            “Basically, you’re like me!” Hatsume threw her arms up again. “And if you can defeat my babies, then you’re even stronger than I thought!”

            “How’d you even find out about me?” Izuku groans.

            “Oh, Monitor here picked up some unusual activity in Musutafu over the past few months, and then you came and trained at UA.” Hatsume grins as she looks over to the machine. “He told me that there was another possible Anomaly after he caught some internet footage of you fighting.”

            “I believe it was the Subterranean King.” Monitor offers. “Proving that you were in fact an anomaly was much more difficult.”

            “When he said that you were a fighter, I built Seventeen over there and sent him to the nearest possible location!” Hatsume grinned. “I was hoping for more data out of that fight, but here you are! Now we can get down to business!”

            “No, no business.” Izuku snaps. Hatsume blinks in surprise. Nezu’s smile breaks for the first time since he’s known the creature (which isn’t long but feels like damn a lifetime), and the principal looks well and truly shocked. “My life is already crazy enough without murderous robots showing up at my school. I’m here because of him,”

            Izuku jabs a finger at Nezu and glares before his eyes lock on Hatsume again,

            “And because I had to know if there was actually another person like me. But you’re not like me, you’re…” Izuku’s hands wave at the tech around the lab before slapping against his sides balled into fists. “Something else. Every time someone has business with me, I get shot, or stabbed, or I fight something, or I run around, or I get threatened, and you know what even if no one ever threatened me with torture and electric shock before today that DOESN’T MAKE IT OKAY!”

            The orb cycles its shutters at him and Izuku jabs a finger towards it.

            “Shut up!” Hatsume’s eyebrows shoot up. Izuku sighs, takes two handfuls of hair and uses the tugging in his scalp to ground himself. “This… whatever the hell is going on, I never wanted any of this! I’ve got someone I need to look after. Nothing else is more important than she is right now. The only reason I’m here is to find out who sent that drone, and to make sure it never happens again.”

             He pants a bit after the outburst. Nezu already fixed his expression, leaving his familiar neutral stare, while Hatsume stares at him with wide eyes. The orb, Monitor, finally stops blinking. When none of them say anything, Izuku glares at Nezu accusingly.

            “You knew. She was here while I was staying with you, and you knew I wasn’t the only one. All that time, you kept this from me, and now everyone in my school got caught in the crossfire. This guy,” He jabs another finger towards Monitor, “found me and traced my location. Last time that happened, a supervillain ambushed me and dropped a little girl on my lap. You promised you’d keep us safe.”

            The license hits Nezu in the chest and falls to the floor with a click. Izuku shoves his wallet back in his pocket.  

            “You miscalculated Nezu. Maybe All for One scares me, but you and All Might sure as hell don’t.” Izuku spits.

            “And what will you do when you get arrested for being a vigilante?” Nezu asks quietly. Izuku’s frown splits open and his fists tighten until his knuckles crackle like Bakugō’s firecrackers.

            “I was fine before you ever knew I existed, Nezu, I’ll be fine without you. So far, you and All Might have only made my life worse.” He turns on his heel and stalks out after that. Even without the lights, he pushes through anything that tries to trip him. Luckily, the elevator takes him up without Nezu’s voice activation. When he reaches the ground floor, he shoves Hatsume’s tube in his pocket and stalks towards the infirmary.

            Recovery Girl takes one look at his face and shoos him out of the room before he can reach the back. The door closes behind her, and she glares until he finally takes a breath.

            “What happened, kid?” She asks quietly.           

            It’s hard to fight the emotions bubbling up in his throat. He can’t help feeling angry and betrayed and vindictive, even though he knows that those things won’t help him. Eri doesn’t need those things. No one, not his mother or his friends or even Bakugō need those things from him.

            “He never told me about Hatsume.” Izuku mutters. Recovery Girl raises an eyebrow.

            “That’s hardly the worst thing he’s ever done.”

            Izuku sees red for a second, bites back the retort on his tongue and takes a breath.

            “I… It isn’t…” He takes another deep breath and lets it out before continuing slowly. “I don’t know why I came here.”

            He digs his hands into his eyes and through his hair and slumps against the wall until he’s sitting at her feet.

            “This thing, whatever I am, no one ever believes me. I always tell people I’m quirkless. Mom… My mom thought I was doing drugs, and she yelled at me and she slapped me the first time I broke the door. None of my teachers ever believed me, or my friends, or heroes or police…” He chuckles as his eyes start burning. “If I help people, I’m not a hero, I’m a menace or I’m suicidal…”

            “But Nezu knew.” Izuku’s voice breaks over the word. “Hatsume has been here for months. Even when I broke in, he acted like he didn’t know what was going on with me. No one told me about Hatsume. And that might have been fine if she hadn’t sent a robot to attack me at school!”

            He glares at Recovery Girl.

            “Nezu promised he’d help keep her safe, and then Hatsume just went and put me on the map.” He snorted as his head thumped against the wall. “You should have seen the way she looked at me when she found out I was the other anomaly. I’ve seen that look before. Always gets me shot.”

            Recovery Girl taps her cane on the floor when he doesn’t say anything beyond that.

            “You may not like it, kiddo, but Nezu and All Might have always done what they thought was best for this country. For the world, even.” The heroine says quietly. “Heroes aren’t perfect. We make mistakes, just like everyone else. Nobody can control Hatsume, bless that little maniac, so don’t try telling Nezu off about that.”

            “I don’t have to care what All Might and Nezu do for everyone else.” Izuku mutters. “They didn’t do anything to help Eri, or to help me.”

            “All Might saved your life once.” Recovery Girl offers.

            “Yeah, and then he told me I couldn’t be a hero without a quirk.” Izuku chuckles. “…I know that being angry about it doesn’t help. Nezu couldn’t stop Hatsume, All Might didn’t choose me. It’s not surprising, no one ever chose me. That isn’t anyone’s fault, really.”

            “Hey now, that’s a bit much isn’t it?” Recovery Girl sighs. “You’re too young to be so cynical.”

            “Did Nezu give you the report of my tests?” Izuku smirks as she shakes her head. “You should ask Snipe and Power Loader about it.”

            “I’ll do that.” She groans and taps her cane against his knee. “But a little sunshine couldn’t hurt either, Midoriya.”

            “I know.” Izuku stands up and scratches his head. “Recovery Girl, can I ask you something?”

            “Ask away.” The old woman smiles up at him briefly.

            “What do you think I should do?” She frowns, then huffs and swats her can against his shoe.

            “What kind of question is that, kid? How should I know?” Izuku shrugs as she sets her cane back on the ground. “You talk like you already know what you need to do.”

            “But… what do I do when everyone turns against me?” Izuku turns his eyes to the floor.

            “All Might may be an idiot half the time, but he always said one thing that I can’t help agree with, somewhat.” Recovery Girl smirks at him. “Putting your nose where it doesn’t belong is part of being a hero.”

            Izuku turns that over in his head, then he frowns.

            “I don’t want to be a hero.” Recovery Girl raises an eyebrow.

            “I take back what I said, you’re just as bad as the other two.” She turns toward the door and reaches for the handle. “You’re not the one who gets to decide if you’re a hero, Midoriya. You only get to decide what to do with the job. And forget trying to negotiate your hours, either. Stupidity never sleeps.”

            “I thought it was evil that never sleeps?”

            “Where do you think evil comes from, kid? Come on now, don’t keep Eri-chan waiting. You’re a month too late for an identity crisis.”

-

            When he gets home, with Eri sleepily clutching the collar of his shirt and dozing on his shoulder, his mother takes one look at him and deflates.

            “What did they do this time?” She sighs. Izuku forces a smile and eases himself into a chair. For a moment, he rubs calming circles on Eri’s back and waits while his mother gets her tea and the whiskey and sets the table for yet another one of their ‘talks’.

            “There are other people like me.” He says, after a bit of thought. “One of them lives beneath UA, and she sent an android to attack me during school today.”

            His mother stares at him for a moment. Izuku expects her to reach for the whiskey, the way she’d done during the whole ‘I want to go hunting for serial killers’ episode. She drains her teacup, then pours another cup and takes a few breaths, drinking that two.

            Then she pours a full teacup of raw whiskey and swiftly drains that, too. Izuku’s eyes widen as she grimaces and coughs twice, setting the cup back on its plate.

            “And she was there… before?”

            “She’s a first year. They found out when she got in, apparently.”

            “Nezu never told you?”

            “He made it sound like he needed my information so they could track me.” Izuku frowns. “No one told me there could be others.”

            “Was anyone hurt?”

            “No… I gave Nezu back his license, though.”

            “Good.” Izuku’s eyebrows rise again, and his mother grimaces as she pours another cup of tea. “I know why they did that better than anyone, Izuku. Don’t let Nezu do you any favors until he comes to his senses.”

            Izuku takes a long breath.

            “Mom…”

            “I know, Izuku.” His mother smiled at him, leaning her cheek in one hand as she turned her eyes to the little girl sleeping on his shoulder. “I watched you grow up, sweetie, I can tell when you get that look in your eye.”

            The pair of them share a smile, fragile smile across the dinner table.

            “Just come back to us. Don’t let anyone stop you from coming home, you hear me?” Inko’s eyes glaze over a touch and her smiles widens. “Show them up, Izuku.”

            Izuku is glad his mom can’t really hold her alcohol, even after months of keeping a small supply. When he lays her in bed an hour later, pressing a quick kiss to her temple, he can’t help but grin as he makes his way to his bedroom.

 -

            School is a little bit more difficult, if only because he has even less study time than before. On the other hand, the way the crowd parts around him in the halls is different. Now they stare at him instead of avoiding his eyes. Kurobayashi-sensei had also given him a bit of an earful about his demonstration against the machine, but the teacher made it clear he wanted to keep their training sessions going regardless.

            His mother invites him over for lunch one day, and Izuku briefly meets Kurobayashi-sensei’s wife. She’s a lovely woman, the definition of serenity, and she quickly remarks that she forgives him for stealing away her husband so often. Izuku has to spend the visit in his room, with Eri pressed against his side and his notes laid out across his desk.

            That Sunday, the first Sunday of his second term, Izuku is out shopping. Even after the scene Tachibana had caused at school, Izuku couldn’t help feeling guilty for causing trouble. He’d asked Sokuchi, and she’d given him a list of some things Tachibana might like.

            He’s waiting at a crosswalk, already holding a little bag with a light perfume, when time drags to a halt around him. A woman, cradling a child tucked against one shoulder and a phone against her ear on the other side, is three steps into the empty intersection, freshly cleared for them. On instinct, he looks both ways and catches sight of a car crawling towards the woman. Considering how slowly her foot moves towards the pavement and the much fast spin of the tires, Izuku knows what’s about to happen.

            She flies a little faster than he intended, and he loses control of his speed. The world screams into motion, throwing the woman a short way while the brakes of the car grind and rubber burns. For the first time in his life, Izuku wonders if being bulletproof is enough to stop something larger than him.

            Metal bends against his skin as if a sheet of water smashed into his side and wrapped around him. He coughs, trying to breathe while steam and oil hiss and splatter against his skin. The impact knocked everything out of him, but the jagged metal edges only bother him about as much as a rock in his shoe. So, after a few moments to get his breath back, he grabs the edges of the hood to drag himself out of the engine and turns his eyes to the woman he’d just thrown down the street.

            “Oh gosh, I’m really sorry about that. Are you okay? Did I push you too hard?” He helps her up, looking over her and the child in her arms (he’d thought it was a baby, but the toddler is fully mobile and deathly quiet from the ordeal) for any sort of injury. Eventually, the police show up and Izuku has to listen as both of the people involved makes excuses. Really, the woman shouldn’t be doing things like that, but the little girl probably won’t remember it anyways. When the cops get to him, Izuku goes through the motions and hands off a business card to his local police station as an extra.

            The officer questions him a long time. Izuku frowns at the scolding, but he doesn’t care. He’s still trying to figure out why the bottle of perfume and the frilly little bag in his hands is undamaged.

            For the first time he wonders just how far his power extends.  

 -

            He’s sitting on the couch wrapped up in a thin blanket with Eri dozing in his lap on a Saturday, staring at the afternoon news when he sees the broadcast switch to the villain attack helicopter. Of course, hearing the switch, his mother wanders in from the kitchen and frowns as the trio wander down the middle of a street and tear through cars.

            Izuku barely registers her entry as his eyes narrow on the men wearing the plague doctor masks.

            Bird masks.

            Eri stirs when Izuku gently presses her into his mother’s arms and presses a kiss to her forehead. His mother stares at him blankly with wide eyes as he silently stalks to the door and slips into his shoes, then calls out to him.

            “It’s him, isn’t it?” Izuku pauses with one hand on the doorknob, then turns to a freshly woken Eri and the pained expression on his mother’s face.  

            “Just gonna go take a look.”

            “Izuku…” She trails off when he smiles at her. It hurts to smile, because it digs into his cheeks and it burns his eyes even though it doesn’t actually reach them. Then he’s out the door and heading down the steps. Nothing from that little trip actually sticks with him, despite walking at a human pace.

            When he reaches the street, he places his hands against the sidewalk and takes a deep breath. Everything dissolves into a blur as he breaks into a sprint and leaps.

            It’s easy to shove his way through the crowd. No one bothers him for wandering the wrong direction, considering it’s barely been ten minutes since the start of the attack. When he shoves out into the street, past a car, he notices a single hero off to one side watching the attack and his blood heats a little more.

            Which is saying something, considering the kindling fury stirring in his chest.

            “Are you a hero? Coming to do the job even off duty?” The one in the furry collar calls out. Izuku glances down at his gym shorts, windbreaker and white t shirt, then frowns at the men in front of him.

            “You’re the one who hurt her, aren’t you?” His fingers crack when he tightens them. The shaking doesn’t help, but just being able to hold himself back is probably an achievement.

            “Oh? So you’re the one who took her from me. Give her back. She’s necessary for my goals.” He calls. On either side, the henchmen shift and get ready for a slaughter. Izuku feels his face twitch a few times, then takes another breath and pushes the hate back down into his chest so that it rattles his own ribs instead of burying his fists in the thugs’.

           “I won’t let you hurt anyone else.” He shuffles into a vague fighting stance, matching the one in the furry coat flare for glare.

            Lots of things happen at once. The hero is somehow jumping out of a car while the big one, the guy wearing leather knuckle guards, charges him. Izuku waits a long time before time starts to stretch out, moving his arms into a guard to take the impact.

            Same as always, the villains are shocked when he’s still standing after the blow. The hero phased through the thug in front of him at some point during all that, and Izuku now has a pretty good guess after the kid’s quirk. It’s vaguely familiar, probably from one of the sports festivals past.

            “You took a punch, huh? Then I’ll just go all out!” The thug cackles, rushing in for another blow. Izuku doesn’t have to time to worry about the size of the guy in front of him when the bastard charges him and starts swinging. Every impact hits harder than the last, pushing Izuku back and leaving him vibrating from every hit. Digging his heels in only breaks the street and digs a crater that rapidly becomes a trench in the street. Speeding up reminds Izuku that the heroes are starting to arrive, though none of them will get involved, and that the boss is still hanging back to watch Izuku get pummeled.

            Worse than anything, Izuku is too distracted to block every attack. Keeping himself in check is difficult enough without the bastard throwing haymakers. A few punches slam into his gut or his shoulders, raising his temperature even further. The assault kicks up dust as Izuku grinds his teeth and digs in further, refusing to dig up any more pavement.

            Eventually, the bastard has to stop for breath. Izuku sighs as the villain stumbles back a step and cackles.

            “Who the hell are you kid? You got a good quirk, that’s for damn sure! No one ever goes two rounds with me!” The mask makes him look like some sort of video game boss character. Izuku really, really wants to rip it from his face and smash it, along with the boss’ mask. “My name’s Rappa Kendo! Call me Kendo, if you survive this!”

            Izuku growls internally. For the first time in his life, he’s actually agreeing with the inner Bakugō that’s been festering in his brain. He rips up to his shredded shirt and tosses the remains of his clothing away as his eyes leave the brute.

            “…Deku.” Izuku offers. He runs a hand over his chest, feeling where he’d taken hits only moments ago, and mutters out of habit. “I guess that car thing wasn’t just a fluke… Whatever. If it keeps me going, I’m not going to complain,”

            When he looks up at Rappa again, he takes a breath…

            Sometimes, you won’t be able to simply run. Kurobayashi-sensei rumbles in his head. Midoriya-kun, why don’t you show him what you can do?

            I think I’ll watch you a bit longer. You’re playing both sides now, young man. All for One’s mask hisses.

            Midoriya-kun, I won’t say that you did the right thing, but you certainly got our attention. Nezu chirps. My decision was to keep you from meeting in case things should go badly.

            Young man, I’m afraid that you are in no position to make demands. All Might’s voice shifts from his loud, boasting persona into the gravelly tone carved into Izuku’s brain. No, I don’t think you can be a hero.

Don’t go thinking you’re better than me just cause you found a couple of extras who can tolerate your shit, Deku. Bakugō growls. I’ll bet it’s lonely now that there’s no one to kick your sorry ass around anymore.

            Show them up, Izuku. His mother whispers, staring at the sleeping angel pressed against his right shoulder.

            The world snaps into place as Izuku meets Rappa’s eyes and forms his stance again. A chill washes over him as his anger begins to dissipate, as if someone dumped ice water over him.

            “I guess you’re not going to let me take on your boss before you’re down and out, are you?” He asks, offering a shaky smile. Rappa laughs even louder.

           “HELL NO! I haven’t had this much fun in too long! Let’s go, round two!”

            Just like before, his body snaps to attention before he realizes it. Rappa crawls through the air, moving faster than any villain Izuku has faced. That isn’t enough. Izuku barely has to shift and swing his arm in a lazy punch, locking their knuckles together. A shockwave rips out from the point of contact, and Izuku lets himself return to normal. Rappa freezes, fist locked tight against Deku’s, staring at the boy in disbelief.

           “You…! Now you’re gonna fight back, huh?! JUST HOW I LIKE IT!”

            Waves of heat burn through him as he meets Rappa’s punches. His anger isn’t completely gone, but for some reason he feels lighter. For the first time since he noticed his change, the weight of it is gone. Every punch he matches leaves a larger ripple hanging in the air and urges the villain onward, making him stronger and faster by the moment. Izuku lets Rappa climb the ladder instead of shifting his gear. The blasts may as well be ice on his skin, and it feels amazing considering how fast they’re moving. Rappa seems like he’s having a ball.

            Until he stops speeding up, at least. Izuku barely registers that the villain is down until he’s staring at the man on the ground for several long, drawn out seconds. The world catches up and Izuku hears a faint groan. When Rappa gets up and wipes the blood from his face, he begins to laugh again.

           “Man… what… are you even… made of… Quirk like that… and you’re just a brat…” Rappa barely steadies himself on his right leg, his form completely shattered.

            “I’m quirkless.” Izuku mutters. Rappa freezes entirely and glares.

            “Don’t lie like that, dumbass. This is a fight, not a FUCKING GAME! THIS IS A BATTLE OF MEN!”

            “Look, this…”

            “NO!” Rappa screams, clenching his battered fists and shaking with rage. “DON’T YOU FUCKING DARE! YOU DON’T GET TO LIE ON THE BATTLEFIELD. ONLY THE WORST PULL SHIT LIKE THAT!”

            Izuku sighs and scratches the curls at the back of his skull.

            “You guys always throw tantrums like this…”

            Rappa lunges forward with an angry, mindless scream and grinds to a halt just as quickly. Izuku is already jumping over him, throwing a rough kick to the back of the man’s neck before he lands. Everything quickly goes silent as the thug passes out.

            He scans the heroes crowding the street and the rooftops, locking eyes with the student and the tall, thin man who he vaguely recognizes as Sir Nighteye. Then he turns back towards his true enemy.

            Izuku walks out of the crater, facing the masked villain without care for his lack of a shirt. His opponent stares him down with disbelief written on his face.

            “Did you really do it…? Did you really use her like that?” The anger is back, leaving him trapped as ice and fire play out across his mind. He doesn’t even know if his voice reached, but the bastard in the mask seems to move in response.

            He pulls out a gun, and Izuku wonders if he should laugh.

            A bubble pops into being around Izuku, stunning him for a moment. It makes sense, really, having the spear and the shield travel with someone important. Still, a portable barrier quirk is so powerful that seeing it used on the villains’ side is just…

            Just as quickly as it comes, the barrier falls and something slams into his shoulder. He hears the gunshot and wonders just how distracted he’d been to not notice the bullet before it hit him. When he pries the bullet from his shoulder, he blinks at the syringe sticking out of the top.

            “I was really hoping to wait and show off the full clip of finished product… but maybe this will put an end to this foolishness. Return Eri to me. Without your quirk, you’re powerless against us. You’ll save no one else with this foolishness.” The masked man calls, looking bored and angry suddenly. He pulls off the surgical gloves in a slow, threatening way and Izuku suddenly realizes something.

            Needles, bloodwork, and gloves all send Eri into screaming fits.

            This guy… Izuku frowns and takes a moment at speed. With the world slowed to a halt, he runs everything through his head. The heroes won’t interfere but getting answers out of the boss seems like it won’t happen while there’s still a guard.

            Izuku rushes the barrier user. He smashes the bubble easily when he drops his speed down and sends the guard straight into the air. Catching him and dropping the body over Rappa’s unconscious form takes more effort than he thought it would, but Izuku isn’t having any trouble yet. He glares at the leader when he drops the body and stalks out of the trench again, ignoring the blatant shock on the man’s face.

            “…Your quirk should be gone.”

            Izuku stops in his tracks, and the tiny spark of compressed hate snaps.

            “These bullets erase quirks?” Izuku’s voice breaks as his body begins to shake and the world stutters erratically around him. “You…! How DARE YOU!”

            “Who ARE YOU?” The boss screams, howling in fear and rage as Izuku takes his first step. As his hand touches the ground, the stone turns to powder and instantly begins reforming. Izuku pushes forward, smashing everything that the bastard makes as quickly as he can and making absolutely sure that nothing can hit the bodies sleeping behind him. He doesn’t stop until he slams a foot into the ground right in front of the villain, who can only stare at him with wide eyes as Izuku bares his teeth and screams.

            “I’M THE ONE WHO SAVED HER FROM YOU!”

            Unleashed rage turns his blood into molten metal. Izuku slams a fist into the villain’s gut and then drops a blow to the back of his head. With his momentum, he can’t stop without leaving another crater in the street so he plows down the street instead.

            It takes a few minutes for him to well and truly return to the world.

            When he does, he’s breathing heavily and watching heroes stream into the ruins that the villains left behind. That he left behind. One of them, the blonde student who’d tried to leap in at the beginning, locks eyes with him and starts moving his direction. After a few seconds, Izuku manages to quell the shaking and take off, running for home.

            Running, just in case she woke up.

            Toshinori coughs a bit when his phone buzzes in his pocket. He itches to answer but can’t. It doesn’t help that he’s been in his hero form for four hours now, and that these court proceedings are taking so long to go through. Apparently it’s all just ceremony at this point. No one is there to say that he can’t be a parent, or that he’s unfit. Considering what happened, he can only imagine that no one wants to admit that this all really happened.

            “Now that we’ve heard everything, it is the decision of this court that Toshinori Yagi, the godfather of Melissa Shield, is in fact fit for the position of guardianship until David Shield has successfully served his prison sentence for the attempted theft and breaking of I-island security measures…”

            Toshinori locks eyes with his old friend, who couldn’t look more disappointed, and then he turns to the young woman beside him. Part of him had always loved Melissa like a daughter. He really hadn’t wanted things to turn out this way, though.

Chapter Text

8: Compression

             He has to stop on the way home. Considering the distances he’s travelling, stopping for minutes at a time still leaves him ahead, but stopping makes him nervous. It gnaws at him and bounces his leg while he’s trying to steady his shaking hands and actually focus, instead of rolling into the back of his own head.

            Fighting Rappa had felt good. Beating Overhaul… hadn’t. Overhaul was going to prison, surely, but that didn’t give Izuku anywhere to direct his anger. Before today he’d imagined that he was being righteous or something, and now he’s just angry.

            Shit, is this what Bakugō feels like all the time? No wonder he’s an asshole.

            Goosebumps crawl over his chest in the wake of a breeze, reminding him that he’s sitting shirtless in a park after doling out some extremely public vigilante justice, and that’s enough to force him back onto his feet. He forces his breathing into a regular pattern and starts jogging toward home, moving at a respectable pace. Before he gets there, his phone rings.

            “Midoriya Izuku you better have a REALLY good reason for what you just pulled, dude, or I’m going to help Tachibana hide your body.” Izuku snorts at the hushed voice.

            “Kābā, I really don’t want to…”

            “This isn’t something you get to dodge around, Midoriya! You just pulled some seriously stupid vigilantism, and you’re not certified anymore!”

            “He was the one who had Eri, Kābā.” Izuku sighs.

            “…You mean like… Oh.”

            “I’m on my way home.”

            “Uh… yeah, man, you… be safe, okay? I’ll come by after classes.”

            “See you then.” Izuku hangs up and steps up his pace. He’s running later than he should, probably.

            Eri slams into him like a missile the moment he answers the door, sobbing. He sinks to the floor there in the entrance, cradling her against his chest and running his finger through her hair.

            “Y-you left… you l-left me, and I, th-thought…”

            “Shh… Shhh, Eri-chan I’m here.”

            “I thought he was going to kill you…” Hisses from clenched teeth. Izuku thinks back to the moment when Overhaul reshaped the pavement and pulls her into an even tighter hug than before.

            “He’s gone, Eri. He’s gone and I’m not going anywhere, okay? No one will ever take you away again.” Izuku’s voice cracks when he says it, but he manages. Then his mom is there, smiling down at him with tears in her eyes.

            “You promised to always come back, right?” She laughs like a whisper, shaking just as much as him as she kneels down and runs a hand over his cheek. Laughing twists his throat into knots and breaks the flimsy hold he had over his tears, letting them flood down into Eri’s hair.

            “Yeah, mom. I promised I’d come home.” Eri takes a ragged breath while the pair of them laugh at nothing in particular, nursing aching hearts. After a few more minutes, though, Izuku stands up and moves to the couch so that his mother can sit comfortably.

            The news outlets are already showing the footage, though they don’t have anything worth showing. Just shots of some kid with green hair facing Overhaul down the street. Limp yakuza lying on the pavement. Blurred shots of a fight obscured by dust for a moment before dissolving into a hurricane of blows. Really, they can’t even see Izuku’s face, so calling him the Green Wind Vigilante while connecting him to the Subterranean King incident doesn’t really make much sense. Not that that stops everyone from doing it.

            He’s at home for about an hour before someone knocks at the door. Eri buries herself in his shoulder as his mother trundles towards the door, then gets out of the way as a small crowd filed in. Izuku blinks when he sees Tachibana’s ‘other friends’, the ones who he’s never actually gotten to officially meet, standing behind the three he’s used to chatting with.

Well, that’s not actually correct.

            All five of them are standing in a group, those three just behind Kābā and Sokuchi, while Tachibana stalks in front of them. Staring up at bloodred eyes and crossed arms, even if she was shorter than him, is paramount to facing his mother back when he was afraid of getting grounded.

            “How was class?” He offers weakly.

            “The news kind of broke between periods.” Kābā shrugs, moving towards the couch. He sinks into the couch on Izuku’s right, looking exhausted. “I thought everyone flipped out when the robot showed up, but this was so much worse. People have absolutely no idea what to do with you, man.”

            Izuku sighs, rubbing a little circle on Eri’s shoulder as she hides under a blanket. The newcomers look decidedly uncomfortable, which only makes things that much more awkward.

            “What were you thinking?” Tachibana’s voice is level, at least. Izuku meets her eye, catching traces of dark blue flickering in and out of both eyes. “That guy, he was a Yakuza, Midoriya. I get that you can’t keep yourself from helping people, but you’ve just outed yourself as being…”

            Izuku frowns pointedly as she waves her hands over him.

            “Whatever it is you are!” She huffs, setting hands on hips. “What do you have to say for yourself, young man?”

            “Uh…” Izuku can’t help glancing at his mom, who fights down a grin as she sits at the kitchen table. No one seems willing to help him out here, so he just sighs and hugs Eri tighter. “Well… I had… reasons… And, um…”

            After a second, he just gives up entirely.

            “Can I tell you later?” He looks down at the bundled child lying on his chest, which immediately softens his friend’s wrath. “I promise I’ll get yelled at later, but today isn’t a good day to do this.”

            “…You’re going to be the death of me, Midoriya.” Tachibana groans.

            “It’s not like you wanted to have kids, Konomi.” Sokuchi pushes the girl towards the ouch on Izuku’s left and sits her down, forcing her way into the space between them. “Though maybe ask Midoriya-san before you adopt her son.”

            “So, uh, did you guys get dragged along, or was there anything…?” Izuku deflates some as he runs an eye over the three newcomers. They all look like they’ve intruded, which… yeah, this probably looks bad. Or at least they feel left out. “I’m sorry if I got you guys caught up in everything again.

            “Actually, we asked if we could come.” One of the twins offers. The quieter one of the two, Izuku thinks. She prefers skirts and jeans compared to her sister, though Izuku has no other way of telling them apart. “Was it actually you?”

            “I guess you guys already know, but yeah.” Izuku sighs. “I can’t explain now, but I felt like I had to go.”

            “I’m sorry for thinking you were a bad person.” Izuku blinks at how forward she is about it, and it must show because she frowns and looks at the floor. “I know listening to rumors is a bad thing, but it all seemed kind of ridiculous.”

            “oh…”

            “I’m Yotsuba Akira,” The girl bowed, offering him a bit of a smile when she stood up, “Sorry for just barging in like this.”

            “No, you’re welcome, really!” Izuku stammered. He gave her a bit of a bow, as much as he could with Eri huddled under the blanket, at least. “You know my name, but I hope we can be good friends.”

            “So you and Kābā are always talking about a workout routine,” Yotsuba’s twin sister is there now, pointing a pink fingernail at Kābā while she glances back and forth between them, “What’s that all about? You still talking about the quirkless thing?”

            “I can’t really get the doctor’s note, but yeah I’m quirkless. The routine is kinda what started all this, I guess.”

            “Are you wearing a shirt under there?”

            “Eh?” Izuku isn’t exactly sure what’s happening, but the way Tachibana groans makes it sound…

            “I’m just wondering, since those cameras were kind of awful.”

            “Akiko, you can’t just start propositioning people like that!” Tachibana cuts in, rubbing a hand over her face. Izuku’s eyes grow wide as his cheeks start burning, but Kābā breaks out laughing. “You’ve already got Daisuke-kun!”

            “W-what…?!”

            “When you say it like that you make me sound horrible.” The girl giggles despite everything and flashes him a peace sign. “I’m Akira’s twin, Akiko. You can call me Akiko-chan or Shishou, whichever you prefer.”

            “No one really calls her Shishou, Midoriya.” The last of the group points towards the empty couch and glances between Izuku and his mother before taking a seat. His posture is good, though with the open uniform jacket and the scowl Izuku always thought that the guy may have been a delinquent type. “Akiko-san is trying to be a manger for models, and she always does that.”

            Izuku watches the twins sit beside Daisuke, who grimaces when Akiko leans on his shoulder.

            “They’re all so mean, but I was serious! Those camera angles were horrible. If he’s really that strong then he’s gotta be ripped, right? Why not show off a bit!” Suddenly the way Akiko giggles makes him uncomfortable, not nervous. He’s been more careful since All for One ran into him, but Kābā has still…

            “Midoriya was chiseled from marble.” Izuku’s cheeks burn as his friend’s mischievous nature surfaces in the form of a devilish grin. “I’m his father, this is all an elaborate plot.”

            “P-please, I’d really rather not…”

            “Oooh, really? He’s still a minor, so you can sign him onto the job if you want, you know?” Akiko returns the sharp grin with one of her own, and suddenly Izuku wants to bury himself in the blanket with Eri. “Daisuke is great for the bad boy type, but I need a nerdy type for the agency. Everyone loves a ripped nerd.”

            “On paper, maybe,” Sokuchi sighs, smiling quietly to herself, “But in real life they startle like rabbits.”

            “I’m definitely Midoriya’s manager, but I’ll have to look over the contracts first…”

            “I don’t have a manager!” Izuku squawks, glaring at his friend despite being trapped on the couch. “And I’m not a rabbit, or a model!”

            “Just a vigilante.” Daisuke says.

“I don’t even know your name and you’re going to throw me under the bus like this?” Izuku is whining. Maybe later he’ll regret it, but at the moment he’s feeling more attacked than he’d felt fighting Rappa. Daisuke just shrugs.

“You can call me Daisuke, everyone does. Kābā and I are on a first name basis.” The boy smiles a bit before he leans out from under Akiko. “But you can’t really say you’re not a vigilante.”

Izuku opens his mouth to fight back, then shuts it and groans. His mother laughs from the kitchen.

            “Can I make you all some tea? I only have discount brands, but there should be enough for everyone!” She calls out, walking out of her room with what looks like… “I’ve got some photos from more recently, too, if you need them Yotsuba-san.”

            Apparently, nothing is sacred. Everyone other than Eri is a dirty traitor and his mother is more dangerous than any villain.

            Nezu watches Nighteye pace around his office with a touch of a smirk on his face. The hero looks livid, and Nezu knows that pointing out the similarities between the lanky man and Midoriya will only make things worse. He really wants to, though, considering how the man barged into his office. Respect is something that Nezu doesn’t give out freely, and to say that Midoriya has his respect is a very special thing indeed. Most of the hero industry haven’t earned that kind of respect.

            “You’re telling me that this boy is powerful enough to fight All Might and you’ve just… let him get away?” Nighteye turns on his heel, arms crossed, and glares as if his glasses are capable of laser focus. “If All for One or this League of Villains get a hold of him, if they sway him…”

            “They won’t.” Nezu cuts in smoothly, earning a twitch from Nighteye’s eyebrow, “Midoriya is an incredibly capable young man, and I trust that he won’t be swayed that easily just because of a simple misunderstanding.”

            “You barely know the boy.” Nighteye grimaces as he says it. In Nezu’s mind, he places a stone on the board, barely suppressing his chuckle.

            “And you don’t know him at all. You’re angry, lashing out at All Might and I despite the agreement that young Togata would take on One for All.” Nezu stirs his tea instead of watching the hero before him. All Might sinks a bit into his chair while Togata hovers behind his mentor with a concerned expression on his face. “Even on his own, Midoriya is an asset to us. You’ve been out of the loop for too long to argue this, I’m afraid.”

            Nighteye’s glare narrows even further. Eventually Nezu hops off his chair and clasps his paws behind his back.

            “If you’d like to have a civil conversation about this, then we can make an appointment and have the proper files sent to your office. But for the moment, your ward has classes and I was in the middle of an important meeting. If you’d please.” The door swung open silently, putting the final nail in Nighteye’s coffin. Watching the hero stalk out is tasty, even though it probably shouldn’t be. Humans are too quick to anger. Nighteye has always been touchy about All Might and One for All, but even Nezu was a bit surprised at the outburst.

            All Might sighs in relief as his former sidekick stalks out of the room.

            “I’ve only ever seen him that angry twice. And never… like that,” The man mutters. Nezu snorts as he sips his tea.

            “Ignore him. We’ll smooth things over in time. We were discussing your new situation, yes? How is Shield-san?”

            “She is… I believe she’s adjusting. Though I can’t say that I’m happy with how things have gone. If I can help David at all… this must be it.” All Might swallows and peers at the floor, looking as lost as he ever has. Nezu can’t help but wonder how All Might’s weight seems to grow heavier by the day. More often than not, his shadow fills more of a room than the man himself these days.

            “Taking her in is an incredible responsibility. I know we’ve worked out a schedule for your teaching duties but are you sure you don’t want more time…”

            “No, I can’t. More than ever, I must prepare the next generation,” All Might rubs a hand up his cheeks and pulls, turning himself into more of a zombie than he already had been. “Maybe someday soon I can take full responsibility for her, but Melissa is a smart girl. And for now, she seems to need a bit of space. Coping, I’m sure.” 

            Nezu sips his tea quietly, letting his tail twitch to bleed off his anxiety. Humans frustrate him, of course, but All Might means well. There isn’t a mean bone in the man’s body… he’s just a bit denser than most. After so long carrying the weight of the world, no one has any right to fault the man.

             “Well, if you need any advice…” Nezu pauses when Toshinori sputters and coughs on a spurt of blood. He can’t help feeling a bit hurt at the way everyone seems to do that, considering how long he’s spent dealing with heroes. Playing babysitter to an entire country makes him more than qualified.

            “Ah, I’m grateful, principal, but…”

            “I was simply going to suggest asking Midoriya for tips on fatherhood.”

            Maybe that was too far. Poor Toshinori looks ready to die on the spot.

            On Sunday Izuku ends up giving a statement to Tsukauchi, working up a plausible excuse for going after Overhaul. They work together on it, though Izuku doesn’t really feel like they worked together. Part of him feels a bit like the detective was playing both sides. He didn’t like it.

            His mother keeps him home after that and they watch the internet explode. Unlike before, where he’d only been passively mentioned or briefly seen, he’s got a second incident to his name. And this one was flashy, successful, and had witnesses. There’s no getting out of this.

            “This” being a heated staring contest between himself and Bakugō. His mother had shooed them out of the house, and for some reason Izuku had just brought his old bully down to Dagobah beach.

            “Are we… gonna to talk, or just stare at one another?” Izuku can’t help but feel a little nervous. There aren’t many people around, which means Bakugō could attack him. Not that he’d get anywhere but that hadn’t ever stopped him before.

            Bakugō’s face twitches, then warps into something that Izuku recognizes.

            He sees it every time he looks up at a hero, just before his lecture. So, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out his papers, then shoves them in Bakugō’s mouth just before the blonde can start ranting.

            “I’m quirkless, so let’s just get that out of the way.” Bakugō stutters, then rips the paper out of his mouth as Izuku steps back into the sea breeze. For another few minutes, they stare at one another.  

            “That was you on the television.” Bakugō snarls. Izuku sighs.

            “Yeah, that was me.”

            “And this beach… was this you, too?”

            “…Yeah, this was one of my projects.”

            “You did all that without a quirk.”

            “Yes.”

            “Bullshit.” Bakugō looks like he’s about to combust, with smoke filtering through his fingers and his eyes turning red at the edges. Everything about him swells at the edges until he looks like a cartoon, red faced and pissed off. “No one can do that without a fucking quirk!”

            “I work out a lot.” Izuku says bluntly.

            “That’s fucking impossible.” Bakugō spits.

            “Look, can we just skip all this? I have homework.” Izuku can’t help but sigh when Bakugō’s hands finally pop, turning his papers to ash. “Whatever has you all worked up, just… I’m not trying to be a hero or anything, okay? I don’t want that. You can have number one, all that fame and glory or whatever you’re looking for. I just want to live my life.”

            Izuku forces a smile as Bakugō’s anger starts to fade.

            “You win, Kacchan. I’m not going to be a hero.” He feels lighter, when he says that. Like he just admitted it to the universe and now he’s finally withdrawn from the race. But Bakugō turns his eyes to the sand and snorts, shattering Izuku’s moment of peace.

            “Not going to be a hero… You fucking coward.” Bakugō ignores the ash staining his fingers and shoves his hands in his pockets, glaring at Izuku as he wanders towards the stairs. “I always knew you were a loser, but I never thought you’d be a hypocrite.”

            He doesn’t get much sleep that night, despite having burned off all that excess rage during his little spat with Overhaul. Instead he dreams of Bakugō and the mud man and All Might.

-

            When he gets to school, people stare at him even more than before. Izuku actually feels a little self-conscious, since they’re looking at him with something bright and shiny in their eyes. They don’t avoid him nearly as much, though the rumors have gone from being entirely bad to being both benevolent and demonic in nature. Kābā just grins at him when Izuku slumps into his desk.

            “What’s up, famous? Not used to having a secret identity yet?”

            “Kābā literally everyone knows who I am they just won’t talk to me.” Izuku groans. “You can’t even call this having a secret identity.”

            “You’re wrong,” His friend grins as he pushes his glasses up, “I can, but it doesn’t make me right. And I don’t care about that when it means making you blush like a little tomato.”

            “Traitors, all of you.” Izuku sighs. “Only Eri loves me.”

            “I think you’re in denial. Maybe I’m just surprised you’re still slumming it with us public school kids.” Kābā snickers. “Turning down U.A. and all. How elitist.”

            “That rat is half spider I swear.”

            “Would that make you Kandata or Buddha?”

            “Those are both really, really sacrilegious Kābā. I’ve got enough problems. Stop putting that out in the universe. I’m begging you.”

            “What’s the worst that could happen, you gonna kill a god?”

            “Dude, why? Why do you…”

            The door slams open with a crack, startling everyone in the room and sending a shiver down Izuku’s spine.

            “Kābā, I’m going to die.”

            “MIDORIYA IZUKU.”

            “I’ll remember you fondly. If nothing else, Midoriya, you were my hero.”

            Sometimes Izuku forgets that, for all his civil behavior, Kurobayashi-sensei is a predator. It should be hard to forget that the man is one rough move away from ripping the sleeves off his clothing and busting every seam, but Izuku has never once considered the soft spoken, motherly instructor as a bloodthirsty animal who just happens to walk around instructing high schoolers.

            This is the first time he has to face that duality. In fact, right now it is very obvious to everyone that the man entering their classroom could kill them with his teeth or his hands in any order her prefers. Some of them hide under their desks or just sit there, frozen, as the shark man stalks through the room and stands (right beside Kābā’s desk holy shit the poor guy looks like he’s going to wet himself) in front of Izuku’s desk.

            “What do you have to say for yourself?” Kurobayashi-sensei growls. Izuku swallows weakly, then looks around and straightens up a bit.

            “I’d prefer not to answer that in public?” He honestly doesn’t think that will work, but now he’s following the teacher out of the classroom while Kābā nearly collapses in his desk. On the way, he can’t help but wonder if the man would actually try to bite him in half. Probably not, but Izuku hasn’t found anything that will cut him quite yet, so it’s a valid question… for another time, maybe. When they reach the faculty office the teacher pushes him into a corner and stands there, arms crossed.

            “Now. Explain.” After a moment to think about how much he’s really willing to give away, Izuku decides to go all in.

            “Well, I was on my jogging route when this supervillain kind of teleported in to have a chat and throw a child at me. Long story short, I went and broke into U.A., now we’ve kind of adopted the little girl since she uses me as a security blanket and everything. But that guy on TV was probably using her for these really nasty experiments, and I mean he was a villain, so I… Uh, I got a little mad. Seeing him on TV.”

            (Okay, in hindsight, that was probably not the best explanation. No one was going to believe that.)

            (Not that anyone would believe him about anything, ever, but hey, he was trying.)

            Kurobayashi-sensei stares at him, blinking occasionally, in complete silence. After a few minutes, Izuku risks a glance around his teacher and finds the rest of the faculty all staring at him with exaggerated expressions of confusion. He leaned back and decides he prefers the unreadable shark to all that mess. Maybe not being believable wasn’t so bad after all.

            “You…” The teacher stops, then lets out a deep, exhausted breath. “You met a super villain, who then threw a child at you?”

            “Yes, sensei.”

            “And now you’ve adopted this girl?”

            “Her name is Eri, Sensei. She’s really…”

            “Did I hear you say that you broke into U.A.?”

            “I might have done that once or twice, yeah.”

            “And you thought that getting involved in a public villain attack was the solution? You’ve always been against this.”

            “You’re not wrong, but I mean…”

            “You’re too young to be a father, Midoriya, if you try and use that excuse, I will give you detention for the rest of the semester.”

            “Can you do that in the first place? What reason would you even have?”

            “At this point, I’m sure your mother and the principal would both be perfectly fine with that.”

            “Don’t tell me you’re going to betray me too, Sensei.”

            “Midoriya-kun, you’re a danger to yourself at this point. Fatherhood isn’t something I trust in the hands of most capable adults these days, let alone a random child.”

            “…That hurt a little bit, Sensei. I’m not going to lie, that one hurt.”

            “And did this super villain manage to pierce your…” The shark waved a hand in a vague gesture at his body. “…barrier?”

            “No. Congratulations. You’re more powerful than a supervillain, Kurobayashi-sensei.”

            “That only means the little girl is even more powerful than any of us, seeing as you’re wrapped around her little finger.”

            “She’s actually really well behaved considering the severe post-traumatic stress and the scars. For some reason she really likes vegetables, too. I don’t have to do anything.”

            “Midoriya, I wouldn’t expect you to know how to be a father but if that’s your policy, you’re off to a bad start.”

            “Well that’s better than not being around at all!”

            Silence hangs between them now, and it takes Izuku a minute or two before the words really register. He’s never said anything like that before. When he finally loosens the fists clenched at his sides, he has to take a deep breath and try to… fix himself. After a moment, he realizes that he doesn’t even know where to start.

            “Are we done, sensei?”

            “…Yes, young Midoriya, I think we are.” The man mumbles. Izuku thanks him quietly before shuffling out of the room, carefully avoiding his teachers’ stares. He can’t help feeling like he just broke something valuable. And it doesn’t help that he feels a bit like a brat, responding like that.

            Maybe he’ll pick something up for his mother on the way home. She deserves a gift every now and then.

-

            Sadly, the world keeps turning and people keep trying to break the law.

            It goes something like this:

            After lots of pleading, Izuku gets dragged out by Tachibana for a day of shopping with their friends after class on Tuesday. Which is great, honestly. Being out in public means no one recognizes him as that kid, even if a few people might be lucky enough for that. What makes this a little bit embarrassing is that Tachibana keeps making jokes about getting him a dog collar, one that pulls back if he tries to fight a villain.

            Everyone else seems to have other ideas on how to keep him in line. None of them are funny, in Izuku’s opinion.

            They’re out for around an hour when Izuku catches sight of a man sprinting down the other side of the street, carrying a purse. A bike cop is already in pursuit, but it doesn’t look promising.

            One look from Tachibana tells him to leave it alone, so he raises his hands in passive acceptance. Watching proves almost painful for him, and Tachibana is absolutely going to stare at him until the danger has passed to prove that he’s not getting involved while they’re out.

            It would only take a second, too…

The thought crosses his mind innocently, almost like a whine. Izuku stops, blinks, then turns over his shoulder.

            The thug is about to turn the corner. No cars are stopped between them, though a few are about to pass through the intersection. He turns back to Tachibana and waits until she blinks.

            Moving at high speed feels like walking underwater in a pool. Air pushes against his skin like water, shifting in new currents as he forces himself across the street and tugs the thug’s feet out from beneath him. By the time he reaches his friends again, clawing through the same path he’d taken to get there, only the cars have moved at all. He can see Tachibana’s eyelids halfway open, already widening. Everything jerks back into motion, including a subtle thunderclap and a fresh herd of winds.

            If they blink and turn to find him walking down the block as the cop reaches his quarry, well, he’s a teenager. Who said he was above a little showing off?

            Even when Tachibana pouts, he can’t help feeling it was worth it. Kābā slips him a high five behind her back later and says that he should definitely use that trick more often.

-

            He’s sitting on the roof eating lunch with Tachibana, Daisuke and Sokuchi when a pair of strangers approach them. At first, Izuku ignores them entirely in favor of his assigned reading. It’s not uncommon for people to come up and talk to his friends, since they’re completely normal people with healthy social skills.

            “Oi, you’re Midoriya right?”

            Saying that Izuku isn’t used to being addressed at school is an understatement. The truth is that he’s spent so many years being a pariah, either for being quirkless or being a ‘delinquent’, that hearing someone actually ask who he is just feels wrong. Even without the honorifics, hearing this stranger call him by name erases everything he could possibly have to say.

            The one who addressed him doesn’t look happy about it. She’s average height, with purple eyes and a pair of horns sticking up out of her bangs. Naturally red hair cut short makes her look… Well, she’s pretty. Intoxicatingly so. For a moment, Izuku actually gets lost in her eyes before he mentally slaps himself and adjusts his stare.

            And, of course, there’s another girl peeking out from behind the redhead looking terrified.

            “Ignore him, he’s still getting used to the whole “people want to speak with him” thing.” Tachibana quips. Izuku yelps when she digs her elbow into the spot just above his kidney before turning back to the girls. “I can confirm that he’s Midoriya-kun. Did you need something?”

            If having someone else introduce him throws the redhead off, she gives no sign. For a second, she glances around, then snorts a bit and crosses her arms as she turns back to Izuku.

            “You’re the green wind vigilante, right?” The redhead doesn’t budge when her friend grabs her shoulders and tries to shake her, and she definitely doesn’t smile. She’s not at all happy to be involved in this. Izuku can sympathize.

            “I’m quirkless, actually.” Izuku says.

            After a beat, the redhead sighs and turns to her friend with a grin.

            “There you go, Sachi. Happy?”

            “Erin, you can’t just…!”

            The pair dissolve into some kind of argument, one that Izuku pointedly averts his eyes from. Hearing them use their given names makes it feel like something he isn’t supposed to have any part of. But, of course, when he turns the other direction Tachibana is giving him a very pointed Look.

            “What?”

            “Is that really what you’re going with?” Her eyes flash light blue and gold and green when he shrugs.

            “I’m not going to lie.” The way he says it makes Tachibana’s eyes flash red and dark blue, clear signs of frustration and disappointment. On her other side, Sokuchi nods and offers him a thumbs up.

            “Turn their slurs against them. Like the Americans used to say, fu…” Even when Tachibana slaps her hands over Sokuchi’s mouth, Izuku can see the mirth on the stoic woman’s face.

            “Um, Midoriya-san!” Izuku turns back and blinks as the shy girl from before, Sachi-san, offers him a bow. “I’m sorry that Erin bothered you during your lunch! Please forgive us!”

            “N-no, wait, please stand up, it’s fine!” Izuku feels a cold sweat break out as people around the roof start noticing. He can only wonder how much worse this will make his image since he’s graduated from “probably-a-murderer” to “definitely-violent-maybe-chaotic-good-at-best”.

            It definitely doesn’t help that the redhead is now smirking at him from over her friend’s shoulder. When the shy girl straightens up, Izuku finds that she’s very, very short. Not quite 150 cm, but definitely not 160.

            “We’ll be going now, we really didn’t mean to bother you.” Sachi-san all turns to push her friend back the way they came and proceeds to shove the horned woman along. For a few minutes, Izuku goes back to his reading despite the storm cloud brewing over Tachibana’s head.

            “Hey, Midoriya?” Izuku hums in response when Daisuke catches his ear. “How do you deal with all… all this?”

            “You mean, like, being an anomaly and having everyone think I’m a murderer?” Izuku doesn’t put any bite in his words. Daisuke, for the week that Izuku has been getting to know him, has never once shied away from his original comment on Izuku’s character. Shutting his book for a moment, Izuku turns his eyes to the sky and watches a cloud roll through. “I don’t do anything, honestly. Things just happen.”

            “You voluntarily jumped ten stories to visit Kābā.” Tachibana mutters. Izuku rolls his eyes and ignores Sokuchi’s giggles.

            “Besides just… taking everything as it comes, I’m not doing anything.” Izuku frowns. “Why, is everything okay?”

            “Oh, I’m fine,” Daisuke shrugs and smiles sheepishly. “I’m just surprised, you know? Back when Tachibana told us that you were like something out of a manga, I didn’t really believe her. Seeing it all up close and personal, like that thief the other day? It really is crazy.”

            “Yeah, it is crazy.”

            “Though, can I just… get something off my chest?”

            “Sure, go ahead.”

            “You’re kind of a massive cliché.”

            “…You’re talking about the tragic Shounen protagonist thing again, aren’t you?”

            “I mean, yeah, but like, starting from zero and becoming the strongest? This is like watching some high school anime. Are you sure there wasn’t a training montage at some point? Maybe snapshots of you running around instead of whole days?”

            “You say that that like I would know.”

            “Good point. Just figured I’d ask.”

            “Plus, if I was the shounen protagonist, wouldn’t there be a love interest or something? We’re missing a whole bunch of people.”

            “Well, there’s your old bully firecracker for the rival, Kurobayashi-sensei as your aloof teacher, Kābā as your charismatic best friend, Eri hits the domestic theme and makes everyone want to cry…”

            “You do realize I can throw you off the roof, right?”

            “But yeah, I guess we are missing a few things, huh?” Daisuke hums quietly, then holds up a hand. “We still need the evil rival, the love interest, the girl you’re actually supposed to end up with once that first romance fails tragically, a boss bad guy, and your evil twin brother.”

            “I thought Kābā was cruel. Why do you all like watching me squirm?”

            “Tachibana could count as the love…”

            “No one will find your body.”

            Izuku offers Sokuchi a fist bump in exchange for the shock on Daisuke’s face. Maybe she’s quiet, but her (admittedly wicked) wit is nowhere near as trained as her skill with her quirk. The others seem to forget that she’s (arguably) the most mild-mannered out of all of them. Prismador was an incredible hero in his day, and his children are either as skilled or more so than he ever was.

            (He quietly notes that Stain is probably his evil rival, not that he can mention it to anyone… the hero killer has all but disappeared from the face of the earth and the media)

(…If his story really was some anime story, though, it would have started after his run in with All Might, right…? Which means… Izuku would have to call that chapter two. Tragic backstory and all that should go in chapter one, unless whatever sadistic author is in charge is just an idiot…)

-

            Friday 626p

            Davinci: Midoriya

            Davinci: Midoriya you better not be saving people right now.

            Davinci: Midoriya answer me

            Davinci: Midoriya

            CareBear: Sorry, I was doing trig. What’s up?

            Davinci: Daisuke keeps asking me about your routine.

            Davinci: What’s it like nowadays? You change it like every month.

            Carebear: I mean… I’ve been taking it easy recently since… you know

            Davinci: Midoriya we haven’t talked about this in a bit what’s going on

            Davinci: Did it get worse?

            Carebear: Not really. I just can’t feel it anymore

            Davinci: Feel what? Your strength? Was it like a quirk?

            Carebear: No, it’s not like that.

            Carebear: You know, I just realized I’ve never actually analyzed my own symptoms. That’s…

            Davinci: ?

            Davinci: What do you mean?

            Carebear: You remember when I said I like quirks and I analyze them?

            Davinci: Yeah, that was like years ago. You were a baby

            Carebear: …

            Davinci: We both know you weren’t truly a boy until you fought All Might three days after your birth. One day you’ll defeat him, complete your pilgrimage and ascend to challenge the gods.

            Carebear: What’s with you and all your blasphemy recently?

            Davinci: Artist’s block is a bitch, so I’ve been surfing through old textbooks and some of my family’s works. Religion is a Thing.

            Carebear: I forget you’re a prodigy.

            Davinci: I’m blessed by our savior

            Carebear: Let’s go back to never talking about our talents ever again

            Carebear: I was a bigger hero nerd than I let on

            Davinci: I’m bored I’m coming over

            Carebear: How long? You staying for dinner?

            Davinci: Sure, parents are out of town tonight anyways. Bro would love to have the house to himself.

-

            Once upon a time, Izuku’s bedroom was a hero shrine. He’d kept a closet full of rare merch, walls full of posters, and a journal full of all his collectibles just in case he lost something Then All Might happened. When he started working out, his room had begun to decay, for lack of a better word. Posters came down and the tubes were labeled before being placed in the closet. Figurines went into packaging and were tucked into a well-insulated box that was put into another well-cushioned box, with every expense taken to keep the quality of the pieces.

            Gradually, his room lost its character. All of his individuality went into cardboard containers, shut and locked in his closet. Back when he’d started his routine, it had been one of the things he did to keep his mind off of the shards of his dream.

            But, now that he thinks about it, something else was happening at the same time. Months after he’d started his routine, he’d started helping out around the shops he knows so well now. With his pocket money, he’d started buying books and gear, filling the gaps with workout equipment and stuffing his bookshelf full of anything he found interesting.

            Maybe it lacked the same character, but it was still Izuku.

            Then Eri fell in his lap.

            Old hero posters, just memories of them really, were replaced by cute fantasy posters. An extra dresser was stacked on his old one for her clothes. His work out equipment used to have a rack, but he’d donated the old stuff a week or two before Overhaul. The bookshelf had turned into three: a small one near his bed for Eri’s sketchbooks, books, toys etc., and his devices, and two medium-sized bookshelves stacked up behind the door (near his desk) had been dedicated to his books and things. Photos had been added slowly, and a couple pieces of art that Kābā either drew or found for Eri along with Eri’s own artwork or a few things that she enjoyed from TV were hung on the walls wherever Eri wanted them.

            Izuku was quietly very glad that Eri preferred Kābā’s artwork to the cheesy cartoon posters that he’d found in the mall. Or he had been, until he realized just how much Kābā’s work was worth. That little tidbit had given him a legitimate reason to avoid letting people into his room, even with the closet full of expensive hero merchandise.

            During all that time, though, Izuku hadn’t lost his first hobby. He’d cut back, sure. Never do it in public (his phone’s notebook had filled the gap). Tell no one (his mom noticed, but she never asked gods bless her). And never, under any circumstances, let anyone into his room or his backpack.

            He’s been friends with Kābā for… four months? Tachibana had come around five months and a week ago, if his math was right.

            Wow… that’s… Izuku swallows some, even if he’s being a bit dramatic.

            So much happened in five months. TEN months. It had been a year and a half since he’d met All Might for the first time and struck out on this whole…

            Right. Back on topic.

            His bookshelf. The single largest source of his shame and social anxiety. A relic of a past life.

            Thirty-seven notebooks of hero and villain analysis (twenty-two on heroes, fifteen on villains) that he’d painstakingly researched between his time studying and working out. His only hobby, the one passion he hadn’t gotten rid of. Something he did in his free time, when Eri was sleeping or when she was out with his mother.

            Fear that it would be discovered had led to some of his more interesting research avenues: Strategy books, math textbooks based on probability, anatomy texts and a few more scattered references were tucked onto the shelf just above his journals, each one filled with sticky notes and ink filled margins. The journals on the shelf were his third generation of notes, all recopied and fleshed out until the only thing left were real, hardcore profiles that Izuku updated every so often.

            It helped, of course, that he spent a good bit of time running around helping out in the neighborhood… or getting into situations with villains and helping the police. The few interviews he’d gotten with interesting thugs were wonderful for his profiling ability.

            Heroes… well, he hasn’t dug into any of them since All Might. Truthfully, he’s been careful about asking anything that would give him away as a fanboy. All his sixteen years of life have taught him that being a hero fanboy always leads to that question.

            A knock at the door startles him out of his reverie, and a quick look at the clock says he’s been staring at the bookshelf for fifteen minutes.

            Kābā grins up at him from the hallway, trapped in one of Eri’s awkward hugs. The poor thing still isn’t quite sure how to be comfortable around others, though Kābā and Sokuchi seem to be her closest companions outside the Midoriyas. It helps that the artist is the single most approachable human Izuku has ever met and he’s more enraptured with the little girl than any of them.

            “Yo, Midoriya!” Eri perches on Izuku’s hip easily as he waves Kābā in, earning a curious eyebrow from the other boy. “Any special occasion?”

            Izuku shrugs and heads over to the bed while his friend moves to take the desk chair. Kābā’s backpack hits the floor with a solid thunk as the boy twirls and hits the chair.

            “Man, I haven’t been in here since we moved Eri-chan in. You really clean up nice.”

            “Having your work up helps.” Izuku chuckles, glancing over his shoulder at the single most majestic unicorn painting that he’s ever seen. “It feels less like a nursery, huh Eri?”

            They both nod when the little girl nods and crawls off of him to grab her pencils and her sketchbook.

            “Hey you did the Trig homework, right?”

            “I finished it earlier, yeah. Eri took a nap.”

            “Mind if I get some help? I can’t wrap my head around these asymptotes for… whatever they are. Arcsine? H-sine?”

            “Actually, I’ll give it to you later.” Izuku sighs, doing his best to ignore Kābā’s look of disbelief while he battles the roiling terror in his gut. “I… You remember what we were talking about earlier? The routine?”

            “Oh, yeah.” Kābā’s smile shifts into the more serious version of Izuku’s friend. “Your routine. You said something about not feeling it anymore?”

            “The burn.” After a few seconds Kābā gives him a look that says he doesn’t understand, forcing Izuku to stand up and being pacing. “Lactic acid, workout burn, muscle build up, I don’t know how else to put this.”

            “Okay, but your limits have always been insane, man. Aren’t you bench pressing over a ton?” Izuku digs his hands into his hair as the other boy frowns up at him.

            “No… I mean, yes, my max is way over that, but that’s not the point!” Izuku sits down gently, careful not to disturb Eri. “Whatever this is, I’ve always been able to feel a burn after my workouts. But this is… I just can’t anymore. Without better equipment I don’t think I can.”

            “Is that a bad thing? You’re almost as strong as All Might, Midoriya.” Kābā says it gently, but it still feels a bit rough. “Look, let’s just… What’s your routine like lately?”

            “The full one, or just my little ones?”

            “…Dude we need to get you a different hobby. Okay? Look, what’s the hardest one you can do? Like, altogether.”

            “Like, all the hardest stuff? Or…”

            “Midoriya I will draw unicorns all over you.”

            “…It’s a school night, Kābā, you…”

            “Don’t test me.” Kābā has the same look that he had the first time Kābā ever got this idea, which says a lot. He can’t really afford to go to school with unicorns all over him.

            “The harshest routine I could do lately, since I’ve only got about three hours…” Izuku hums to himself for a moment. “I’ll take out the run, let’s say my run is ten kilometers in one hour. I’d do two thousand push-ups and hanging crunches. Two hundred hand-stand push-ups on each side. Fifteen hundred kicks, three different ways, and a fifteen-minute-long flag at the end of each set.” Kābā, to his credit, doesn’t flinch. He just writes it down, then hands the stray page out to Izuku. “Yeah. Three sets would be the complete routine.”

            Kābā hesitates before he writes that at the top.

            “You can do all of that in forty-five minutes?”

            “I got two thousand push-ups down to eight minutes while I was staying at U.A.”

            “How many world records have you broken?” Kābā’s eyes widen and a hysterical grin breaks out on his face when Izuku shrugs. “You don’t know?!”

            “Don’t forget I’ve spent most of my time trying to hide this from everyone…” Izuku sighs. “I only realized today that I haven’t really… looked at this as like I should have.”

            “You said that earlier too.” Kābā is texting someone, and the smirk makes Izuku certain that he’s now busy tomorrow afternoon. Wonderful. “I still don’t get what you mean.”

            “Remember back when I told you I liked Heroes?”

            “Dude you keep an accurate chart of up and coming heroes for each district in your head out of habit. Everyone knows you were a massive fanboy back in the day.” Kābā chuckles maniacally while Izuku groans and flops back on the bed. “But you’re dodging my question. What’s gnawing at your heels?”

            Izuku hates when Kābā uses that phrase, but it’s apt. He feels like he’s sneaking up on himself, and he’s finally navigated the conversation to the backdoor of his anxiety.

            “Look at the bookshelf and grab one of those handwritten journals off of the middle shelves.”

            “These? Wait, I thought these were just notes from school. Hero Analysis… Midoriya, what the hell?” For a few minutes, Izuku lays on his bed staring at the ceiling as dread escaped his stomach and crawls over him. He doesn’t even realize he’s grinding his teeth until a little hand grabs onto him and pulls his arm out so that Eri can hug his hand to her chest. The sound of pages turning distracts him, but only somewhat.

            He told Kurobayashi-sensei that Eri used him as a security blanket, but maybe that wasn’t entirely accurate. At the end of the day maybe he’s been leaning on her for comfort just as much.

            “Dude. Midoriya, what… why haven’t I ever seen this stuff before? You have twenty of these?”

            “Thirty-seven, if you include the villain journals.”

            “That’s… Dude.”

            “Kābā, it’s not a big deal.”

            “This is how you know so much about heroes? How many hours did you spend doing these things?”

            “It’s my hobby!” Izuku sits up, tugging Eri over to lean against him with her book and her colored pencils, and looks at his friend while he runs a hand through Eri’s hair. “I just… When I have free time, I go online and surf the hero forums and everything. It’s an old habit. After everything, I started doing it to avoid heroes. But, yeah, I’ve got a lot. I study in my free time. That’s all it is. Just studying.”

            “JUST STUDYING my ASS!” Kābā gapes at Izuku from the other side of his journal. “Yu Takeyama, public alias Mount Lady, Gigantification quirk, able to grow seven stories tall, though it’s more accurate to say just over six and a half stories…”

            Izuku hunches over as Kābā goes through the notebooks. Most of the specific data and important information he’s committed to memory, much like his thoroughly vague knowledge of school subjects. Not that he CAN’T apply that knowledge, but he just hasn’t had the time to apply his schooling yet.

            He’s learned more useful things from his time helping out around Musutafu than he has in school (save for his anatomy (read: offense) studies and health (read: training) studies).

            “Dude, these are like hero dictionaries! Have you considered doing this…?” Kābā stops before he can finish that statement. The fact that he does reminds Izuku for the umpteenth time this week, month, months, why he still enjoys spending time with Tachibana and Kābā and Sokuchi. Each of them knows him well enough to respect his issues with “Heroes”.

            “I have.” Izuku mutters quietly, smiling despite the topic. His anxiety is dissipating now, leaving his core feeling a bit empty. “But you can’t find a good job as an analyst these days. The only people who really use analysis are insurance companies and accounting firms that specialize in Heroics. Predicting the heroics market is just a parlor trick, or a hobby.”

            “That sucks.” Kābā deflates some. “Still, this explains a lot. You’re always writing stuff down during lecture, but I never thought you were stockpiling a library like this.”

            Izuku laughs as they stare up at his shelves. Eight shelves from floor to ceiling, roughly sorted into sections. Two sections near the floor for his favorite casual reading. Two shelves (a shelf and a half, truthfully) for his analysis journals, two shelves for his schoolwork (a shelf for textbooks and a shelf for handwritten notes that may as well be textbooks for that one particular teacher’s class), and a shelf for his extracurricular works (the ones he didn’t shove into his ‘analysis’ shelf to keep up appearances).

            “I mean…” Kābā gives him a Look and Izuku holds up his free hand in defeat. “All right, all right, I get it! I guess I go overboard with my notes. It’s the only thing I have since I quit the hero nerd thing, okay?”

            “Quits being a hero nerd to be an even bigger nerd and a vigilante. Sounds like a great plan.” Kābā snorts, then swings back around to look at him. “But seriously, we’re getting off track again. Are you saying you’ve never done all that fancy analysis for yourself?”

            “Not really.” Izuku shrugs halfheartedly. “Honestly, I never thought of this like a quirk, it’s just a thing. A broken, crazy thing that no one can explain.”

            “Hey, uh Midoriya? Hate to cut in, but… That’s like every quirk ever.”

            Izuku blinks, then he snorts.

            “Quirks are science. There’s genetic research, loads of work has been done…”

            “Dude, you’re in denial.” Kābā cuts off his tirade with an annoyed wave of his hand. “Whatever. Maybe whatever this is isn’t a Quirk, with a capital Q, but you’ve definitely put it to good use.”

            “If you say so.” Izuku huffs. “But even if I tried to break this down, I can’t feel anything anymore. It’s like my limits are too high for me to even push them.”

            “You mean your limits are too high for you to push them safely.” The way Kābā says it makes Izuku roll his eyes.

            “Safely for everyone else, maybe. It’s not like I can go tearing up streets to test myself.”

            “Damn… and you already burned that bridge with U.A.” Kābā hums. “Like I said, Daisuke wants the details of your routine. Why don’t we take tomorrow to show him what you can do, and then we can try and figure out some way to test your limits again.”

            Izuku takes a breath and sighs, then nods.

            “Yeah, that sounds like a plan. So, what do you have for the pre-Cal homework?”

 -

            To Izuku’s surprise, Akiko and Daisuke both want to know his secrets. When he outlines the routine he gave to Kābā the night before, they both stare at him and start laughing.

            “Midoriya there’s no way in hell that anyone save All Might does this routine.” Akiko giggles. “If you’re trying to scare us off, this isn’t going to do it.”

            Izuku sighs as Akira, Kābā, Tachibana and Sokuchi start whispering in the background. For a moment, he tells himself that the three who know are just reassuring the new girl, but Sokuchi definitely just took a wad of bills from both of them.

            Great. Now they’re betting on friendly misery. Might as well go all in, right?

            “Well, there’s always the run.” He offers the pair a crooked smile and a shrug. Something in his tone must shake Akiko’s hypothesis, because she actually looks worried for a second. If she weren’t as stubborn as Daisuke, she might have saved herself in time.

            “How far is the run?”

            “Well, I’ll usually do five kilometers out to a spot, then do the routine and a little cooldown, then run back. Ten kilometers total.” Izuku says.

            “Wait, ten kilometers a day?” Daisuke asks, glancing at his ‘manager’. “I usually do that a few times a week, but…”

            “I mean, if you guys don’t want to come then you can meet me somewhere along the way…” Izuku really hopes they’ll take the bait, but instead they smile and hand back the detail.

            “No way, Midoriya. You’re not gonna scare me off with some impossible routine, you know? Faking it isn’t any way to work out.” Daisuke actually looks a little upset.

            “How am I supposed to be your manager if I don’t even get to see you in action!” Akira giggles, despite the fire in her eyes.

            Izuku sighs and rubs the back of his neck.

            “So how about we meet at my place after school? I know a place where we can all meet up fairly easily.”

 -

            Izuku picks a construction site stuck in the middle of a residential block somewhere on the outskirts of Musutafu. The construction is mostly finished, thanks to a little bit of help from Izuku over the past month, and there’s a nice closed in courtyard where no one will bother them. As a bonus, the workers left a small pile of concrete blocks that need to be broken down over in the corner. Between Kābā’s quirk and Izuku’s strength, they’ve got some benches and a horizontal bar ten minutes after arriving.

            “All right, ready?” Izuku grins a bit when he finds Akira and Daisuke looking at him with red faces. Five kilometers isn’t too far, but it’s far enough to push past most endurance training. According to Akiko, Daisuke focuses on bodybuilding and only runs as an addition bit of training.

            Before Izuku could say anything about cross training, the memory of his confrontation with Bakugō cut him off. He just smiled and nodded along.

            “So, what’s the routine?” Daisuke tosses his bottle back to Tachibana, ignoring the devious smirk on her face as he glares up at Izuku.

            “We start with two thousand push-ups.” Izuku laces his fingers together and flexes till they crack some. “Or, in your case, do as many as you can. I’ll let you know when I’m done, and we’ll move to hanging crunches.”

            They both cross their arms as he shakes out his arms in the empty courtyard. Neither of them seems to have accepted their fate yet, which Izuku can understand. But, as usual, Izuku isn’t the one that they’ve got to worry about.

            “Hold up, hold up,” Kābā grins wolfishly as he jogs up and throws an arm around Izuku’s shoulder. “Midoriya, dude, you never wear a shirt for this stuff, do you?”

            Izuku cringes internally.

            “I mean…”

            “You picked a closed courtyard for a reason, man.” Kābā kneads Izuku’s shoulders, still glaring at his two victims as if he’s just won the lottery. “Go ahead, loosen up! We’re here so you can experiment, right?”

            “Kābā, seriously it’s fine…”

            Tachibana wolf whistles from her bench, earning a smirk from Sokuchi. Izuku digs his fingers into his eyes, wondering how he doesn’t have bags the size of suitcases under them.

            “You’re all ridiculous.”

            “You’d be lost without us, Midoriya.” Kābā yanks off his windbreaker and holds out a hand expectantly, letting Izuku stew in his nerves for a moment before he peels his shirt off. They’re laughing, of course. It’s ordinary, playing like this. But he can’t stop shaking, either, so he avoids their eyes.

            Ever since he started his routine, Izuku has done his best to wear a jacket and long pants whenever he goes out. Shorts are nice on occasion, but ever since he started gaining muscle and definition, he’s been absolutely sure that no one was around to see. The comments Kābā made about modeling back when they first worked out together set Izuku on fire, or close enough. He claws at his scalp and ruffles his hair as he shoves his shirt into Kābā’s hand. The quiet says absolutely nothing he wants to hear, nothing that anyone has ever said, but the weight of it is heavier than All Might’s punches or his verdict.

            Once he’s successfully killed the mood and gotten into position, his two victims follow him.

            “Kābā, give us a start and time me, would you?” He calls out, trying not to dig a hole in the dirt with his glare.

            “Yeah, Midoriya. Here… All right, start!”

- 

            “So, how much was the bet?” Izuku rolls a shoulder as Sokuchi hands Tachibana a wad of bills. Akiko hasn’t stopped staring at him since he finished, despite the fact that her sister and Daisuke are wheezing on the ground somewhere behind him.

            “I bet ten that they stopped trying on the first set.” Kābā sighs, grinning despite the loss. “Tachibana said they’d try till the very end.”

            “You didn’t put numbers on it?”

            “Nah, Tachibana doesn’t even know Daisuke’s routine that well.” Kābā shrugs. “Plus, tens and twenties don’t really matter when someone is doing thousands.”

            Izuku huffs to himself. He’s worked off the discomfort of being shirtless in front of the others, though Akiko’s stare feels heavy on his shoulders as he turns and crouches by the pile of human lying in the courtyard.

            “You two okay?” He can’t help grinning a bit at the way Akira uses Daisuke as a pillow and they both groan in response.

            “I knew… You were a murderer…” Daisuke moans.

            “You’re not human! Kābā’s your father and this was a dirty trick…!” Akira whines.

            “I told you not to push it.” Izuku shrugs and bounces to his feet. “Besides, that wasn’t anywhere close to enough.”

            Izuku frowns as he closes his hand and flexes his forearm, watching the muscles and tendons ripple like a nest of snakes beneath his skin. He barely feels someone behind him when a finger pokes his shoulder and triceps.

            “You’re barely even red.” Tachibana mutters, looking up at him with her features twisted up. “What are you made of?”

            “Marbleeee~!” Akira cries, flailing her arms on the ground. Daisuke groans as she flops around and drops her head back to his stomach. “Daisuke, carry meeeee!”

            “I don’t know what’s going on,” Izuku ignores the drama on the ground and runs a hand up his arm, feeling each muscle and twitching them in order. “But like I said, no matter what I do I can’t feel any burn.”

            “So you’re just… too strong?” Sokuchi frowns and cocks her head. Izuku chuckles and scratches the back of his head.

            “I wish. But even when I do new work outs it doesn’t hurt. It’s almost like my body just doesn’t build muscle anymore.”

            “Uh…” Akiko is staring right at his chest, hiding her mouth behind a hand. “Well, I mean, do… Is there any way for you to build more than that?”

            “You’re staring.” Tachibana bumps the girl in the shoulder, then drops onto the bench beside Sokuchi and leans into her shoulder.

            “So were you,” Akiko blushes some, then looks him in the eyes. Izuku looks to Kābā, who just shrugs and laughs it off. “I just mean, like… Look at you. If you were any stronger, I think you’d have to get taller or something.”

            “Okay, that’s just…” Izuku huffs, feeling both flattered and a little bit hurt. “I get what you mean, and you’re not wrong, but even if I’m not building more muscle then there should be a limit to what I can do.”

            “If any of this were normal, I’d agree with you dude.” Kābā lets out a long breath, then shrugs and looks over at the pile of bodies left over from their work out. “Was there anything else you wanted to try today? These two aren’t going anywhere any time soon.”

            Izuku taps a finger on his chin, looking up at the fresh set of apartments in front of him and the supplies he’s got.

            “Honestly, I can’t really do much…”

            He’s just about to turn and get his jacket from Kābā’s bag when he a police cruiser creeps into view through the archway. It’s got to be speeding, but Izuku barely registers the speed. What catches his eye is the pair that are riding the leader’s bumper, lights off despite the wheels spinning sluggishly under his eyes. Everything snaps back into focus as the cars fly past, earning a series of rude responses from cars along their way.

            “Midoriya? What just…”     

            “You guys head back.” Izuku doesn’t even think. His phone, wallet and diagnosis are all in his pockets already. Tachibana shouts at him as he passes under the arch, but he’s not listening. Everything around him crawls to a halt as he starts jogging down the street, looking for the cruisers each time he reaches a corner.

            Two blocks down he finds himself staring up a blocked off street with various squads of police hiding up and down the block. Someone is falling out of a window in one of the apartment complexes beyond the barrier, and smoke is already pouring out of another apartment in the same building.

            He’s up over the police line, running up to the building in a heartbeat. A leap places him a few stories up, just short of the woman falling out her window. Pushing up off the wall as delicately as he can, Izuku does his best to put his arms under the woman as he falls, turning over to land on his feet. Dragging the woman with him, has the odd side effect of trailing her hair behind them like a streamer (They’re lucky it’s all in a braid, or Izuku would probably have ended up with a mouthful).

            Chaos blooms around him as Izuku matches everyone else’s speed. Gales tear up and down the block as the air pressure evens out, knocking one or two of the officers off their feet. . The woman in his arms is screaming, which is pretty normal, considering she was falling a second ago. When he walks over to a group of cops and sets her down, everyone involved stares at him with wide eyes.

            “Is it a fire, or an attack?” Izuku stares at the cops for a moment before he snaps his fingers in front of them and repeats himself.

            “W-we got reports of a villain?” The first officer stammers, looking Izuku up and down as if he’s got two heads. Izuku just nods and turns around, already speeding up. He walks through the building casually, ignoring the flames for the most part as he picks up everyone he can find. Once he’s cleared the first five floors, he walks out again and sets the latest civilians in the street carefully before he steps back and slows down.

            He’s already heading back towards the building when a window on the top floor opens up and someone pokes their head out.

            “Fucking COPS! You thought I wouldn’t notice?!” Izuku rolls his eyes as the latest idiot tries to antagonize the police. He makes one more round through the building, finding most of the remaining civilians moving for the staircase. A hop, skip and a jump has him walking through the seventh story, picking two young women out of the apartment where the thug has his head out the window. For half a second, Izuku wants to shove him out and let him fall for a bit before Izuku ends things.

            The only thing stopping him is a lack of information on what started the fires.

            A fresh hurricane blooms through the building and across the street as all the civilians wake up scattered up and down the block. Police have their weapons drawn, looking back and forth between every new person as if they’ve appeared out of nowhere. Izuku wonders for a moment what this looks like to them. He’s made several trips in and out at ridiculous speeds, dropping people wherever there’s empty space.

            When everyone has calmed down just a bit, Izuku takes a moment to clear the front of the apartment complex and drops the villain there, fixing his posture so that they can actually talk with him face to face.

            Or, face to mask. Whoever thought black sock masks were a good idea was far too dumb to be worth this much trouble. But there’s still the matter of his quirk and the fires and whatever that bulky nonsense under his hoodie might be.

            “I’ll FUCKING…” The villain coughs as he looks Izuku in the eye, suddenly finding himself very much on the same level as everyone else. A few police, the ones with bulletproof vests, come to speed between the villain and the crowd as a deterrent.

            “Look, I’ll make this easy, alright?” Izuku tries his very best to sound as if he has this situation in hand. The enemy is about two seconds from having a panic attack now that he’s on the other end of several firearms and a random shirtless guy, which leaves Izuku with no wiggle room. “Don’t use your weapon, just come quietly. Whatever you were up to, it’s over.”

            “What… who…” The villain’s eyes settle on Izuku and narrow. “You’re that vigilante! The green whatever!”

            “I’m not exactly…”

            “Fuck you! This is none of your business!” Izuku sighs as the guy points a finger his way and froths at the mouth. “That bitch cheated on me!”

            “It’s crime of passion? What are you trying to do here, win her back? All this does is get yourself thrown in jail. Just give up, alright?” Izuku holds up his hands and tries to smile, maybe get through that awful mask to the (hopefully less psychotic) person this guy used to be.

            “Get away from me!” The hoodie comes up over the guy’s shirt, leaving Izuku with a question that he honestly never expected to get an answer for.

            Can he survive a bomb?

            He’s fireproof and he’s taken a car going at seventy kph. But those were both one-time things, and a bomb is much worse than a flaming car moving at high speeds. It’s ground zero for an entire blast wave, one that Izuku has no idea how to deal with.

            “Can you not jostle the bomb strapped to your chest please?!” Izuku grabs his head when the villain pulls a crude detonator out of his pocket and waves the big red button around like a knife. Obviously, it has about the same effect as one, making everyone around them flee or scream.

            I packed them too close for this, someone is going to get hurt… Izuku can’t pry his eyes off the trigger in the villain’s hand, despite the people screaming at his back. Police scream for him to drop the trigger, all wielding pistols or tasers. Civilians scream in confusion, pain and fear.

            One of the cops pulls the trigger as the villain takes a step forward, giving Izuku a firsthand, slow motion picture of the man’s hand closing on the button.

            I can’t do anything unless I do it all at once. Izuku decides, digging his toes into the pavement. Don’t try to take the blast, just outrun it. You can do that much… right… Just gotta outrun it.

            The world around him stops. Maybe it’s the adrenaline flooding his system or the crowd at his back, maybe it’s a conscious effort to move. Whatever it is, the air feels more like an ocean of cardboard at this speed than water.

            It’s the people at his back that force him to take the first step.

            His eyes scan the vest of wires- with everything flash frozen under his gaze, Izuku finally takes a look at his enemy’s face and realizes that he can’t be much older than seventeen or eighteen. A fraction of a moment passes in that second, and Izuku’s eyes fall to the vest as his teeth grind. There’s no sound at this speed, just the crash of his heartbeat through his ears and his breathing, which is getting heavier with each wash of his pulse.

            Even with eternity at his fingertips, Izuku knows absolutely nothing about bombs.

            Rage and helplessness course through him like liquid fire as he steps back. At this speed he can’t even hear himself scream, or the way his fists beat against his knees. His lungs burn as he empties them a second time, and his eyes burn as he looks up into the other boy’s eyes.

            Cheap fabric pulls apart easily under his grip, though he can’t help wasting a lot of moves with the pressure trying to hold him in place. Three of the connections on the vest part with some effort, and Izuku watches it freeze in place as he swings it upward, over the bomber’s head.

            Dragging a person at this speed is nearly impossible. Izuku’s teeth grind, but even that doesn’t feel right. After he makes it a meter or two, he can’t do it anymore. The pounding in his skull is driving him crazy, and he has no idea how this is going to feel for the idiot he just dropped on the pavement.

            He pushes through until he can hear again. Vague, distorted noises hit him like salt in the air. There’s a trace of movement around him, though it’s the equivalent of waiting for the second hand to snap into place.

            For the first time, Izuku decides that the street isn’t worth the cost if he isn’t fast enough. His eyes water as he wraps his arms around the police officers closest to him and leaps. There’s no efficiency in his moves, no plan or reason. Moving as fast as he can at this speed, he grabs two or three people at a time and takes the quickest path to the end of the street. Several times, he bounces off the buildings and leaves massive bubbles of weak pressure hanging off the walls.

            The first time he crosses his own path, he trips and loses control of his time. He can’t have lost more than half a second, but he can feel a headache coming on as tries to keep track of it all. People are everywhere, trying to run away or hanging in the air as they’re shoved off their feet or simply staring at the vest creeping higher and higher by the second.

            Izuku hacks out another breath and forces himself onto his feet, pushing himself to the brink of the silence to make up for lost time.

            He only makes it through ten or eleven more people before he starts to slip up again. Mistakes cost him precious time, so he redirects his efforts to dropping people behind cars on the other side of the street.

            There’s just… so many.

            Forty? Fifty? He wasn’t paying attention when he pulled them out.

            No matter how fast he’s moving, his heartbeat keeps time. Even if he can’t hear properly, he can still feel the agonizing headache coming on. He’d complained about not being able to feel pain, but he’d never imagined something like this.

            A glance over his shoulder reveals a handful of people left, including a group that he keeps meaning to grab. The girls who he’d grabbed from the same room as the bomber are there, along with a middle-aged couple. When the three in his arms are falling towards the other side of the police barricade, he turns and kicks off as hard as he dares, praying he’s not going to overshoot it.

            When did the bomb get that high? It has to be a story and a half up into the air, still moving at a snail’s pace. He touches down closer to the couple, just far enough to miss one of the girls as he redirects his momentum and leaps down the street again. They’re barely free of his hands when he catches a burst of light from the vest.

            Growing up with Bakugō left him intimately familiar with explosives, but there’s something beautiful and horrifying about watching the process moving as fast as he is. Orange and white and blue cracks spread across the tops of the tubes, then fill the weave of the vest before everything starts to burn and break apart. A series of bubbles form around each of the tubes, coalescing until traces of smoke and ash leave shadows in the flame. The vest is gone before he’s even in the air, but he memorizes the event frame by frame as he flies. Ribs made of debris and smoke form as the bubble expands into a wave of raw force, light and heat.

            The close he gets, the more he hears it. An explosion is supposed to be a single massive sound. Instead it sounds like the slow waking roar of a monster and it hits him with the force of an ocean.

            He barely has time to turn around and put himself between the girl and the edge of the blast before the light and noise devour everything.

-

-

-

            It takes him a long time to come to. He has no idea how long, really. He has to wake up each part of himself individually and fight off the single worst migraine he’s ever had the pleasure of experiencing. Eventually his eyes work enough that he can see people staring at him through the smoke. The girl is there, sitting on the ground motionless but hopefully safe.

            Sound takes a while to come back, but it does filter back in much faster than it has any right to, in Izuku’s opinion. He does his best to breathe evenly, but it sounds more like a gasping fish than anything else.

            When he finally manages to move, he has to peel his shoes form the pavement. Not that they were stuck there, just that his legs refused to move in the first place. His first step is shaky, forcing him down onto one knee as he tries to hack up a lung or something.

            He nearly falls over when someone grabs him by the shoulders.

            “Are you okay?!” The girl is screaming at him, probably since she can’t hear anything herself. He groans and pries her hands off his shoulders, shakes his head out a bit and drags himself onto his feet. A glance over his shoulder knocks him back down onto his ass and leaves him scooting back until he’s beside the girl.

            The doorway and the cars closest to the blast are completely destroyed. Flames linger here and there on the vehicles. A large portion of the building is now missing, and smoke pours freely out of the gaping hole. Everywhere within the explosion is stained black, save for a stretch of clean pavement that vaguely resembles a person.

-

            He’s lucky that his friends get stopped at the barrier, because Tachibana would absolutely murder him if she found out what he did. Granted, the whole thing was a series of horribly unfortunate events… but everyone knows Izuku is granted nothing when he throws himself between an innocent person and a bomb.

            When the police manage to lead him and the girl out of the wreckage, one of the other victims throws herself at the girl and sobs into her shoulder. The horns and red hair are what jog Izuku’s memory. Suddenly the bomb seems significantly less dangerous than the fact that he’s shirtless in front of two girls from his school.  

            It takes a while to get the paramedics to leave him alone, but eventually he makes it to the edge of the police line. His friends are there, staring at him with wide eyes as he pushes his way out of the chaos.

            “What… What…” Tachibana repeats the same word quietly, over and over, as Sokuchi tucks the girl under her arm. Kābā looks as if he’s been slapped, and the twins may as well be catatonic. Daisuke slips under the barricade and offers Izuku a shoulder, strangely enough. Izuku smiles a bit as he assures his friend that he’s okay. He barely makes it between the cruisers when Kābā throws himself at Izuku and wraps him in a thick, bone crushing hug.

            “What were you thinking.” Kābā’s voice shouldn’t even be audible. Izuku only hears it because his ear is right by his friend’s mouth when he shudders and lets it slip. “Fuck, Izuku, what were you thinking…”

            Izuku returns the hug tentatively, then shifts some as Tachibana and Sokuchi join the pile. After a minute Izuku is covered in five people, wondering quietly if he’ll have to carry them home.

            “Guys,” They stare at him as she backs out of the hug, holding his hands up to show them that he’s fine. “Guys, I’m okay. Everything is fine.”

            They stare at him blankly in response.

            “Kābā!” Izuku has to shake him before Kābā actually looks at him. He grabs their attention as solidly as he can and looks them dead in the eye. “Guys, I’m fine. Everyone is okay, get it? Everyone is safe.”

            “You… you threw yourself in front of a bomb.” Tachibana shakes as she starts to cry, and Izuku knows that he’s going to get hell for this later.

            “I’m fine…” Sokuchi gives him a heavy look as she tucks their friend to her chest and lets her cry. He sighs and wipes some of the ash from his forehead.

            Now he’s shirtless and surrounded by crying friends AND strangers.

            Fantastic.

            “Wait!”

            He half turns to find the girls from his school- Erin and Sachi, he thinks- on the other side of the cruisers. The paramedics look about as angry as they can possibly get with victims, which Izuku can kind of sympathize with. After a quick glance around his friends, he turns and steps up to the cruiser.

            “I thought…” The short girl, the one who he’d shielded, is shouting at him. Not her fault, probably, but he can’t help flinching. Her friend grabs her hand to stop her.

            “We thought you were quirkless.”

            “Yeah, I get that a lot.” Izuku shrugs. “Are you both okay?”

            “Are we…” The redhead laughs, then tries to cover her mouth with a hand. “You jumped in front of a bomb man, what the hell were you thinking?”

            “There was a pretty good chance I was going to be fine.” Izuku waves a hand, then scratches his head. “Everything turned out all right.”

            “Wait, you didn’t know if you…” The redhead seems shocked enough at that to stop talking. Before he can ask what she’s talking about the paramedics are dragging the pair away.

            Izuku turns around and looks at his friends with a sigh.

            Yeah, he’s in trouble. A lot of trouble. But first he needs to get them home.

            Yuu isn’t exactly sure why his mom has him set the table fifteen minutes before the meal is finished. Usually it just leaves him to sit and wait while his mother and sisters bring out the meal in pieces. His dad likes to read the paper before the meal, so there’s not exactly any room for small talk.

            The only benefit is that his mother makes amazing food and the smell always makes him even hungrier than he already was. Sakura races in from the kitchen and starts setting bowls and plates on the table, always on the verge of tripping but never quite going over. Yuu just chuckles as he grabs the latest one and sets it in the proper place.

            Dinner is always like this. A little bit too formal, despite how childish his family is at heart. He’d never change it for the world, though the ritual gets a little bit old.

            “How was class today, Yuu?” He snaps to attention as his father folds up his paper and sits up in his chair. Yuu shrugs, wincing as one of his bandages shifts beneath his shirt.

            “I mean… Aizawa-sensei is tough, but it’s not so bad. No harder than trips to the dojo.” Yuu’s father would hate Aizawa. Hell, the man would probably hate how silly All Might gets when he’s teaching, for that matter. There’s a whole hour and a half to be wasted listening to his dad talk about the safety of the students and what U.A. should have done differently. If he’s being honest, Yuu can’t blame his father after the USJ attack. Nomu, that monster they’d brought to fight All Might, still came up in some of his nightmares, though it was rare now. But that was the price of getting the best education he can. All he can do is try to dodge around the incoming rant to the best of his ability. “How was work?”

            “It was alright, though we did have a bit of a fuss. One of the secretaries didn’t show up for work, and things got a little chaotic when we tried to keep up.” The man sighs as he polishes his glasses on the napkin beside his plate. “I don’t know what’s wrong with young people nowadays. We can’t keep anyone on the payroll anymore.”

            That definitely doesn’t sound normal. Yuu has never heard his dad complain about that sort of thing. It’s easy to say that he’s just venting, but Yuu really can’t tell what his dad is thinking most days. Some days it’s all he can do to keep from setting the man off on another critique.

            He nearly misses the knock on the door. When it registers, he nearly trips trying to get out of his chair.

            “Send them away, we’re about to eat!” His mother’s voice chases him out to the door. Yuu doesn’t bother responding since he was going to do that anyways. The door swings open quickly, but the words die the moment he sees who’s outside.

            For half a second, he thinks that it’s a person. The visitor is taller than him, dressed in all black with a red shirt under his jacket. Only the shirt isn’t red- the hem is white, and that’s too dark to be called red. Yuu’s eyes catch the purple flesh stapled along the visitor’s wrist and widen as blue flames erupt from what’s left of the man’s fingers. A quick glance up at the man’s face, now illuminated by the blue flames, reveals a pair of glowing blue eyes and a cruel smile. Flames dance on his tongue, through sharpened teeth and up over his cheeks, giving Yuu a clear view of where the visitor’s skin faded and the exposed jawbone was left gleaming in the flickering light.

            “Special delivery~”

Chapter Text

            9: Shutterspeed

            < Tuesday, the last week of September >

            It’s been three days since Kābā has heard from Izuku.

            No, that’s… It’s been three days since he’s messaged Izuku. Three days since any of them have reached out to Izuku, according to their chatroom. He feels horrible. After a few months of being Izuku’s friend he knows that Izuku is probably blaming himself.

            Kābā watched Izuku jump in front of a bomb to save someone’s life. Everyone involved is unharmed, mostly, and the dumbass who did it is in custody.

            That… all of that should make it okay. Izuku should be congratulated, celebrated, praised all over the country for that kind of raw heroism. A part of Kābā knows this, and he wants this to be the truth of the matter so badly that it hurts.

            But Kābā watched Izuku jump in front of a bomb.

            He really doesn’t know how to deal with that.

            A chime, one of his sister’s piano trills, breaks the silence. The moment the phone is in his hand, blinding him, he recognizes the tone and hits the sleep button. He’s slow enough that he catches the message anyways.

            Tuesday 724a

            Carebear: I got a haircut

            Kābā doesn’t really know how to respond to that. He frowns and tentatively reopens his phone, staring at the message. And then he’s responding, not really thinking about it as much as letting second nature take control.

            Davinci: I dont believe you

            Davinci: your mom wouldn’t buy garden shears just to give you a haircut

            Carebear: ???

            Davinci: youre a shrub, Izuku

            Davinci: besides Tachi and I tried to cut your hair once

            Davinci: broke two of my best pairs of scissors

            Carebear: Please tell me you’re joking

            Davinci: you think I’d joke about art supplies? Remember that time I had you buy dinner?

            Carebear: THAT’S WHY

            Davinci: Do you know how much art supplies cost
            Carebear: I can only imagine

            Davinci: why are you texting me about your haircut did you get a bad cut

            Carebear: No, I lost a lot of hair though. It kept falling out Sunday

            Davinci: I repeat

            Davinci: ???

            Carebear: I just

            There’s a moment where the chat tells Kābā that Izuku is typing. He’s already amused and frustrated with the guy, and it’s not even time for school. Which means Tachi-chan is going to be in fine form today, if she’s back to normal. Sokuchi probably…

            Carebear: I needed to talk to someone

            Carebear: Today is taking a long time

            He rereads the message a few times before he turns his eyes to the ceiling and groans.

            Davinci: what do you mean ‘Today’

            Davinci: Izuku what are you doing

            Carebear: You know I get up early, right

            Davinci: yes, you’re a masochist but you said that very specifically

            Davinci: plus you never complain

            Carebear: I’m just tired

            Carebear: Sorry for texting you so early

            Carebear: Just wanted to talk to someone

            Carebear: I’ll see you at school?

            Davinci: Yeah, Ill see you there

            Maybe he won’t deal with anything today, Kābā thinks. If he can get through today in one piece, maybe he’ll figure out what to do with all these feelings later.

            ---- 

            Kābā actually likes the new haircut. Izuku trimmed up the sides and left a little bit of fluff on his head, leaving him one less thing to hide behind. Sure, undercuts are overdone but, in a world full of heroes and odd hairstyles, seeing a classic is nice. Really, the odd hairstyles are crimes against fashion and should get people arrested. It’s awful sometimes.

            Of course, it’s all null and void because while Kābā is trapped with Izuku in their classroom, none of the others show up early to see it. Ever since school started, Izuku has been a pariah. Being outed as a vigilante only made things worse, somehow, because now he’s got fans mixed in with the haters. None of them will approach, though, so Kābā gets to watch them whisper about him quietly.

            It occurs to him briefly that they may not be whispering about Izuku at all. Being paranoid is a new thing for him. He’s not sure how Izuku does this all day.

            Lunch rolls around and Izuku ducks out, claiming that he needs to talk to Kurobayashi-sensei. Kābā waves him off and trudges up to the roof, where he finds their friends holding a small funeral without the coffin. His presence doesn’t change anything.

            They don’t talk much.

            Other than the occasional flashes of green out of the corner of his eye, Kābā doesn’t see Izuku again until he returns to the classroom.

            They don’t talk at all.

            Daisuke takes him around the dojo where he does most of his kendo training on Wednesday. For a little while, they enjoy themselves mindlessly. It’s a laid-back place, and Daisuke only has an hour and a half long practice. Kābā passes the time sketching kendo forms while his friend trains. Akiko comes in halfway through, fresh out of her gymnastics practice at school, and she’s fawning over the sketches before long. They’ve talked about having Kābā do some drawings for her ‘management company’, even though she doesn’t have one.

            That night he has dinner with his siblings. His brother doesn’t talk much, even going as far as to bring his laptop to the table, but Kābā gets to hear about where Cynthia went for her latest piano concert. Piano music has never been his favorite, but his sister is too incredible to turn down. So that night he sits and listens while she plays for practice (her smile says it’s for him, just like it used to be, and but they treat it like a secret).

            Friday rolls around like low tide. He ignores math class for the third day in a row and he spends most of his time sketching abstract pieces in various styles. A few go in the chat, and suddenly they’re all off catching up like it’s been days since they saw one another, not hours. When he drags himself to school on Saturday, things feel a little more natural. Less muted, more colorful. Sleep has been a little easier. Last week nags him but doesn’t pay it any mind.

            He dumps himself in his chair sideways and grins at the boy beside him, greeting on his tongue, and suddenly his eyes catch on Izuku’s hair. Specifically, the streaks of white growing up the sides. 

            Izuku glances up and meets his stare with a grin, then a curious frown.

            “You okay, Kābā-kun?”

            “Oh, y-yeah… Still not used to the new haircut.”

            “Heh, me either honestly. I’m not really bothered by the cold or anything anymore, but it’s still weird not having my hair grown out.” Izuku reaches up and tugs on his head hard enough that Kābā can see the skin pull tight, hard enough that Kābā winces in sympathy. “But I haven’t had any problems with it since Monday so that’s nice.”

            They don’t really talk much. Kābā can’t even say that he tried, because there’s something fundamentally wrong about the way their conversation feels. Maybe it’s the fact that he didn’t notice the white until today, or the fact that his friend is oddly twitchy. It fades from his mind until he finds himself heading up to the roof alone again. He pauses, hand on the door, when he realizes that today is Saturday.

            He hasn’t eaten lunch with Izuku all week. They barely spoke at all.

            When he’s firmly wedged in between Daisuke and Sokuchi, showing them the sketches of Daisuke’s training, Daisuke picks up his notebook and starts flipping back, from his training session roughs to older pieces.

            At some point, Akira catches his eye and smiles.

            “Did you hear from Midoriya-kun today?” Kābā blinks, frowns and shrugs.

            “I didn’t even think about it, honestly.” Akira nods, though her sister frowns and nudges the girl with an elbow. What follows can only be some odd twin telepathy, but Kābā tunes out. Daisuke asks about an art piece, and he goes on to explain that he had a concept for a rough draft like two weeks ago.

            The flash of green in the corner of his vision is distracting enough that Kābā thinks of Izuku again. His eyes linger on the rooftop door, watching it swing shut for half a second before he asks Daisuke about his workout routine.

            He says it doesn’t feel the same recently. Kābā isn’t surprised.

            On Sunday he wakes up and spends most of the day going over homework and just doing standard things. Tripping through social media, watching ridiculous hero feeds, reading through some articles his parents sent him about exhibitions and neat exhibits. He buys some supplies online, cutting his monthly allowance in half, and when four o’clock rolls around he finds himself sitting in the spare room staring at an empty canvas.

             His eyes fall on a child’s drawing pinned to the wall over his desk. It’s all colored pencil, no outlines, but anyone would take one look and see that it’s a unicorn. What strikes him about this particular one is that the unicorn is up on a rock, looking down on the rest of the forest very much like people would think a lion might (not that it’s a very tall rock, the drawing takes up the whole page horizontally).

            The colors are all wrong. Despite the unicorn’s coat being white, the mane is darker green than the trees and the eyes are red, while the horn is black and curved like the edge of a scalpel. Eri drew that back when her addiction to unicorns first started. She’d given it to him after he’d drawn up the picture now hanging over Izuku’s bed.

            Kābā thinks of Izuku, throwing himself in front of a bomb while Eri waits for him at home. His memory of the event itself is hazy, but the artistic part of his brain imagines the flames and the blast spreading around Izuku like dragon fire, spreading across his bare back like the brunt of a floodwater. The sight of the aftermath over the police barricade is not at all hazy. Black streaks trail out from Izuku’s feet across the street, stretching around a single sobbing girl.

            A pencil hits the canvas, a concept taking shape in the back of Kābā’s head.

            < Wednesday, the last week of September >

            Eighteen bodies lie on the floor. The only thing that gives away which of them are women are the curves under their uniforms and their frames. One of the walls is caved in entirely, leaving rubble strewn about the battlefield like small mountains. Puddles of water and ash smears cover the remaining walls and floor, along with a girder from the rafters that somehow got wrapped up in the chaos. Groans and quiet sobs fill the room, though it’s hard to tell where everything is coming from. A single person stands on top of the largest chunk from the wall, hands smoking and trembling as he stares down at the wreckage left in his wake.

            Shota isn’t surprised. Bakugō has been getting more and more volatile, but this week he seems extra motivated. On top of being quiet. The quiet part has Shota more worried than usual. Not even Kaminari’s backhanded compliments set the blonde off this week. Apparently Bakugō learned to bottle that rage up and use it.

            That, or he’s growing too quickly.

            “That was quite the show.” Having Nezu on his shoulder has become an occupational hazard, one that doesn’t bother Shota too much. If he’s being honest the way the Principal seems to randomly appear there is the troublesome part. Giving Nezu a teleporter might mean the end of the world. “Young Bakugō is truly a powerful young man.”

            “He’s been stressed lately.” Shota says quietly. His notes from the exercise include a few worries and some advice, but he’ll readily admit that he was too shocked to write much down. The destruction caused by eighteen versus one is impressive.

            “Do you have any records from the past exercises? I’d like to look at his progress this month a little more carefully.” Nezu’s voice is always a bit high pitched, but there’s something to it that Shota doesn’t like.

            “What’s this about?”

            “I’ve been meaning to bring you up to speed on this anyways. We’ve got some reports of people who’ve grown well beyond their quirks. Remember Hatsume?”

            “I thought she was just an outlier.”

            “I’m calling them Anomalies. Hatsume’s intelligence programs have reached human level, and there are others. One that is already intimately familiar with our school. And those are only the two we’ve confirmed from the rumors.”

            “That sounds like a security breach.”

            “Imagine a small, green version of All Might kicking in our front door.”

            “Sounds like one of my nightmares, other than the green part.” Nezu chuckles, then hops off Shota’s shoulder.

            “Regardless, Bakugō might have come into contact with an Anomaly and I think we should be prepared should he begin showing the signs. He’s already powerful enough, don’t you think?” Shota turns back to the gym as the students start picking themselves up, moaning about injuries. He doesn’t worry too much after Ojiro gets up from under the girder.

            “You hired me to make sure they get better. I wouldn’t be doing my job if he peaks this early.”

            “You don’t teach math, Aizawa, but having too many variables in a problem make people very unhappy. Even I’ve got a point where I’d give up.” Nezu raises a paw, then runs an eye over the carnage. “Anyways, come by my office with Bakugō-kun’s data later, if you’re not too busy. It will take some time to fill you in.”

            “Why are you filling me in early? Why not call a meeting of all the teachers?” Shota doesn’t want to know the answer, but this is Nezu. Few can outplay him, even fewer can keep him from getting what he wanted. He already has a pretty good idea of why, so might as well get it over with. Nezu is already walking away as he calls Shota’s damnation over his shoulder.

            “I’m looking to put a small green All Might in your class at some point. I don’t have enough data to tell you much more than that!”

            The med bots roll into the wreckage slowly, spraying liquid bandages and antiseptic on a few stray cuts while they apply bandages to worse injuries and tell the students to head to the infirmary. Eighteen students walk out with bandaged limbs, cuts, bruises, frizzy hair and the worst blow to their collective self-esteem of the entire semester. Bakugō walks out with a pair of bandages and a small limp. Shota glances down at the timestamp on the recorded video, then follows his students out while he pulls up the last month’s exercises on his tablet.

            Class 1-A was supposed to be a cut above the rest of the nation’s hero hopefuls. Setbacks aside, they were one of the best classes Shota has seen in a long time. Not many kids could walk out of a villain attack with fire in their eyes, even if All Might was there to clean it up.

            Bakugō had taken all of them down in thirty minutes.

            Maybe that was a little bit much.

            < Saturday, the last week of September >

            Toshinori still isn’t used to this whole… “Civilian commute” thing.

            He can feel eyes on him constantly, and any villainy that he hears of on his way makes something gnaw at his gut. A weight exists on his shoulders now, though. She’s young, blonde and beautiful, standing just in front of him on the left.

            Always on the left, just in case.

            Melissa is quiet these days. She wears a smile that’s delicate as glass and she’s perfectly polite. But there’s clear difference from this girl and the one he remembers meeting on I-island over the years. Toshinori hopes with every fiber of his being that the support course will help her open up again. Meeting with Nezu today is supposed to be a part of that. Getting her into U.A. quickly now that she’s finally adapting to Japan. With her grades from her last school she’s well above the current curriculum. Power Loader seems excited to have a protégé.

             Sirens catch his ear, and Toshinori doesn’t even realize that he’s stopped on the sidewalk until Melissa grabs his hand.

            “Uncle Toshi, you’re steaming.” He winces at the disappointed frown bearing down on him.

            “Er, r-right… I just,”

            “No way, Uncle Toshi.”

            “Just a peek?”

            “We really are going to be late, you know,”

            “I just need to make sure, Melissa-chan,” He can see the disappointment in her smile, but it’s mixed with a bit of fondness. They drift a bit off course, heading a block out of their way to watch as Backdraft fights a young villain with a fire quirk. Nothing out of the ordinary, apparently. Musutafu is so desensitized that people stop and film the fight instead of running as fireballs scorch the nearby buildings.

            “Everything seems to be under control, uncle Toshi,” Melissa sighs, tugging on the oversized sleeve of his suit. He stays as he fights the urge to leap in and finish things with a single blow.

            It’s a matter of propriety at this point, isn’t it? To make people feel safe…?

            “Uncle Toshi-!”

            A shiver runs down his spine as someone brushes by him, and all he sees is the briefest flash of green before One for All is sputtering to life on raw instinct. The smallest vein of fire burns in his eyes (he can’t see the way they glow in the shadows of his emaciated form) to keep up with the newcomer.  

            Midoriya leaves a clear afterimage as he drops into the fight and cuts the villains legs out from under him. Two blows land, a sweep and a blow to the shoulder, before the villain is embedded in the pavement. With a hop and a skip, the boy is landing beside Toshinori and Melissa as the crowd gapes at the aftermath.

            Years and years of using One for All has taught Toshinori several things. He trusts his instincts more than most people, moves easier than almost anyone, and he’s all too aware of the implications in “real time combat”. Speed is one of the greatest assets a hero can have, and All Might is one of the fastest heroes on the planet. What Midoriya has just managed is something that even All Might can barely manage these days. Back in his prime that was still in the upper limits of his power.

            He locks eyes with the boy for a moment before Midoriya shoulders his school bag and turns his eyes to the street.

            “Save your time, Yagi-sama.” The boy sighs when the blood wells up and spills over Toshinori’s lip, leaking from his slack jaw. “And take better care of yourself, if not for yourself then for her.”

            “Uncle Toshi! TOSHINORI-KUN!” He blinks when Melissa is shoving a handkerchief into his mouth, standing exactly where Midoriya had been a moment ago. “Gosh, you’re so reckless! What did you do this time?!”

            “I, wait, Melissa-chan, I swear I didn’t do anything,”

            “Who else could do that?! Pushing yourself isn’t helping your condition!” Melissa scowls as he takes the cloth and cleans himself up sheepishly, looking for a boy who’s no longer anywhere in sight. “I’ll have to tell Shuzenji-sama about this, you know!”

            “N-no, wait Melissa-chan please!”

            < Sunday, the last week of September >

            Looking back, Inko can’t help but wonder. She wonders if life might have been different if her husband had stayed, or if Izuku had been born with a quirk or if she’d raised him a little better. Not that she raised him badly, mind you. Izuku is the single brightest thing in her life, even though he shares that space with someone else these days.  

            But people wonder. Perhaps the essence of humanity is the pursuit of dreams. If so, who can blame her for wondering? Right now, she has absolutely no regrets. Wondering is just an old habit.

            “Keep an eye on him, Eri-chan! Don’t let big brother get up to any trouble!” She grins wickedly as the little girl waves and bobs her head, jumping across boulders while Izuku stands nearby cheering her on. Inko’s eyes linger until the child reaches the last stone and cheers, grinning so wide that it makes her “mother” tear up just a bit. Naturally Eri’s barely touched down when “big brother” scoops the little one up and twirls them around, praising her for being brave.

            It all feels so easy. How long has it been, a month? Two? So much has happened in less than a year. October starts tomorrow. Life is just like that, Inko decides. She grins as Izuku snatches Eri up and drags her back to their picnic blanket, collapsing with a breath.

            “She’s so fast mom! I almost didn’t catch her!”

            “Hmmm, sounds like you need to keep up that workout routine of yours.” Inko chortles when he rolls his eyes. Eri, of course, grins as she stands up and puts her fists on her hips.

            “I’ve been work, working up, too!” Izuku blinks, then grins widely as he sits up and crosses his legs.

            “Oh? What kind of work up?”

            “Auntie Inko takes me for walks!” Eri giggles. “I even saw a puppy!”

            “No way!”

            Inko sighs happily as the pair go off again. At the end of the day, Eri is barely hers at all. The little girl is glued to Izuku’s hip, after all. Even when she asks to go outside, it’s because she’s chasing her big brother.

            There’s a light in his eyes these days. She has to look for it, sometimes, but she has to look less and less often. Whatever is happening to them, even if he’s constantly throwing himself into danger, she’s glad for it. For his friends, for Eri, for the people whom Izuku has been able to save. Not a day goes by when she isn’t glad, instead of worrying what comes next.

            She knows what comes next, after all. Maybe not all of it, maybe not even “next”, but what comes eventually. Looking back, she really shouldn’t have doubted. Not that she doubted Izuku, mind you.

            He was always going to be a hero.

            < Also Sunday, the last week of September >

            The Sokuchi house is about the same size as the Yotsuba household, but there’s something about it that feels different. Akira has been friends with Sokuchi-chan for nearly two years now, and she still hasn’t lost that feeling of being out of place when she visits. Visiting without Akiko makes it a little bit more difficult. Her sister is the one who can push past those things and ignore the pressure.

            But now Sokuchi-chan and Tachibana-chan are shoulder to shoulder on the couch across from her and Akira can’t help but feel like she just walked in on something. Even if she’s the one who asked to talk in the first place.

            “Tachibana-chan, have you spoken to Midoriya this week?” Neither one of them seems happy with the question, though Sokuchi-chan isn’t as put off.

            “Nope.” Tachibana says with an air of finality.

            “Is anyone planning to talk to him again?” Akira doesn’t like the way Tachibana’s eyes are flaring up right now. Colors seep in and out of them too quickly, replacing the girl’s eyes with flashpoints of impossibly vivid hues. That only happens when emotions are high and that means…

            “You can, if you don’t mind watching him try to kill himself.” Tachibana huffs. Akira glares down at her hands, running her eyes over the design that Akiko picked out for her nails this month. She’s known for a while that Tachibana was too invested in befriending Midoriya, but it doesn’t make the words any less harsh. Normally Tachibana is the brightest of them all. Only Sokuchi seems to truly understand the girl beyond all the pep and friendliness.

            Akira really doesn’t know what to do with this. With them. Her friends.

            “So, you’re just… never going to see him again?”

            “Why does it even matter? He’ll be fine,” Tachibana leans her head on Sokuchi’s shoulder, staring down at her lap.

            “Sokuchi-chan?” Akira turns to the taller woman with a faint hope, but Sokuchi ignores it. It’s not surprising. Tachibana is the loudest and brightest and Sokuchi is the most constant person Akira has ever met. Currently, Sokuchi won’t care about anyone but Tachibana. “Right…”

            “I thought Kābā would be the one looking out for Izuku.” Tachibana sniffles a bit, but her eyes are a deep blue when she looks up at Akira. “What’s got you on his side?”

            Akira has a bad feeling about what comes next, but she’s already here. No one else seems prepared to do anything.

            “I’ve been thinking about what happened all week,” She runs her tongue over lips to fight her dry mouth as she speaks, “And I keep, I don’t even know him, but I keep seeing flashes of green all over the place. Maybe it’s because I don’t like leaving him out of things when we all just got introduced…”

            Akira can’t help thinking that Tachibana is just waiting to jump on her moment of weakness to say the one thing Akira really doesn’t want to hear. Part of her wants to say that Tachibana is fragile right now and that it won’t matter later. Friends don’t do that, but it’s not like it would be the first time someone lashed out at her.

            “I know it’s wrong.” Tachibana says quietly. Akira has never seen the other girl’s eyes that shade of blue. It reminds of her of deep water off the side of a boat, darker beside the whites of her eyes and the welling tears. “I know I should say something, but I just keep thinking that one day he’s not going to come back, and I don’t… I’m sorry, Akira, I don’t even know how TALK to Izuku right now.”

            This is why Akira is friends with Tachibana, after all. Because she’s never actually taken the swipe that Akira is so terrified of. She smiles, even though her throat tightens up when Tachibana presses herself even deeper into Sokuchi-chan’s side.

            All it takes is a look from Sokuchi-chan, almost as if she’s giving Akira permission, before Akira joins in the hug. Gentle fingers press into her shoulder as Sokuchi-chan reaches over Tachibana, and Akira’s tearing up now too. Sokuchi-chan seems to be holding it together somehow. No one wants to see their friend cry.

            “I know… I know you care about Midoriya,” Akira mutters, holding Tachibana’s hand as tightly as she can (the girl has a grip like a vise holy fuck), “You care about us all so much, Tachibana, I didn’t want to make you cry.”

            “When are you going,” Tachibana does her best to chuckle around her tears, wiping her nose with the cuff of her overly baggy sweater, “to start calling me Konomi, Akira?”

            “Do you remember when you first tried convincing everyone to meet him?” Akira whispers, trying to ignore the pain in her hand. Tachibana takes a minute before her eyes are staring through the floor, back over the months she’s spent being Midoriya’s friend.

            “Daisuke didn’t like him. He threatened to beat Izuku up if the guy pulled anything funny or something like that,” Tachibana huffed, “I had to try so hard not to laugh, I’d just watched Midoriya squat a metric ton of weights and then Daisuke… No one wanted anything to do with him. Akiko said that Izuku was a lost cause, he was too plain.”

            “I said I’d give him a shot.” Sokuchi-chan muttered. Akira giggles despite the way it hurts her throat. There’s a very noticeable poutiness in her voice, something inviting (Akira is definitely not jealous of the way she says it).

            “You’re always on my side, Ruby.” Tachibana mutters quietly before looking back at Akira. “Why does any of that matter? No one wanted anything to do with Izuku back then.”

            “The week after you first tried, you started splitting lunch times.” Akira coughs, trying to reign her emotions back into their usual cage so that she can actually talk, “And one day you came and you sat down looking, well, you looked upset I guess, but you were obviously pouting…”

            “I do not pout, pouting is for losers,”

            “So, you were pouting,” Akira rolls her eyes at Tachibana’s input, “And when I asked you what was wrong, you told me something that I never really stopped thinking about.”

            Akira’s voice hitches again. Not because of the emotions in the room, but the memories she’s digging up. Old memories of empty houses and mean children yelling at a girl who wanted to read her books in peace. Wondering what to do knowing that there was someone else out there who’d felt those things.

            “I think you said something about Midoriya not having any other friends, or something similar,” She has to push herself up out of the couch and just fix herself for a second. Brush hair from her eyes and wipe her nose and clear her throat, ignoring the way Tachibana’s nose twitches and she narrows in like a bloodhound.

            “I don’t remember that.”

            “Akira-chan?” Hearing that tone from Sokuchi means she’s being obvious, so Akira frowns and presses two fingers to her temples on either side and closes her eyes. The voice that comes out is Konomi’s, not her own, but it feels almost natural as she calls up the memory.

            “I don’t even care that he saved our lives or that people are saying horrible things about him. But sometimes, Akira-chan, Midoriya-kun hears me say hello in the hall and he just… lights up like a Christmas tree. Everyone needs friends, but he’s too worried about making other people uncomfortable. Like some kind of scared puppy. What kind of person would I be if I ignored a boy who wants to be friends and saves whoever he can?”

            Emulating voices is a trick that she’s picked up over the years after her singing practices. She doesn’t do this often. It’s too dangerous to do at home, and it’s not like Akiko has ever cared about her vocal training. But Sokuchi-chan knows, and now…

            Now Konomi knows too. That’s a little bit terrifying.

            “You are really good at that.” Konomi stares up at her with yellow and green in her eyes, giving away how much respect and surprise are actually in that sentence. Akira wishes she appreciated it. Instead she hides and tries to fight off the sensation of something crawling over her back. “Do I really sound like that…?”

            “Akira-chan’s impressions are spot on.” Sokuchi-chan smiles warmly, making Akira flush a bit. “And considering her memory, there’s no doubt she got it right.”

            “You can’t tell anyone.” Konomi’s eyes are dark blue again, but there’s lines of yellow between the butterfly scales in her iris. Obvious suspicion, doubt… All the things Akira knows she’ll have to deal with eventually. But she’s in the middle of something, damn it, so she just needs her friend to agree, to SWEAR, so they can finish talking. “K-Konomi-chan, please you can’t even tell Akiko, this is serious.”

            The girl nods a moment after Akira’s plea tumbles from her lips, and it sets some of Akira’s anxiety to rest. She still can’t shake the spiders crawling up and down her throat, or the worry that somehow it will get out. But that’s for later.

            Right now, they’re talking about Midoriya.

            “Why are you fighting for him, Akira?” Sokuchi-chan asks gently, running a hand up Konomi-chan’s arm. “You’d never show someone that trick for someone else.”

            “Because… because,” Akira takes a breath, “I think, if I’ve listened to everything you and Kābā told us, Midoriya would blame himself for running everyone off.”

            “Of course, he would he’s dumb.” Konomi huffs.

            “Even if it was crazy, Konomi-chan, Midoriya saved all those people,” Akira frowns as the remembers the blast. “I can’t forget how many people he pulled out of that building. I can’t stop thinking about how he jumped in to save that girl, even though he didn’t know her. You’re right, I don’t know Midoriya that well. We’d barely known each other a week before that, but I don’t think I can forget that Midoriya would have given himself to save that person. It’s what a hero would do. He’s, I just think Midoriya is a hero. And what type of person would I be if I let all of his friends abandon him for doing the right thing?”

            “I always forget how much you love heroes,” Konomi chuckles wetly as she blinks away fresh tears. Akira can’t help but stare down at her knees while her anxiety wars in her chest. Even if her hero worship hadn’t been a secret, it’s always uncomfortable talking about it so obviously.

            “She’s got a point though. Maybe you should at least talk to Midoriya tomorrow.” Sokuchi-chan pokes Konomi-chan’s head and earns herself a scowl for the action, on top of getting a smack on the leg. “Before you get a long text message about how he wishes you could still be friends, but he understands…”

            “Yeah yeah, I’ll talk to him tomorrow.” Konomi groans. “You know I’m starting to think he’s more trouble than he’s worth.”

            “Too bad. You’re the one who stuck your nose in. Now we’re all involved.” Sokuchi-chan smiles. “But I’m a bit curious, Akira-chan, why did you come to us first and not just talk to Midoriya?”

            “I figured that it would be best if you three went to him first.” Akira says weakly. “He… Midoriya-kun is a little bit scary, honestly.”

            “What are you talking about that guy is the nicest person ever!” Konomi-chan rolls her eyes as she drags herself up out of the couch and presses herself into Sokuchi-chan’s side a little more effectively. “He’s made of sugar, I swear.”

            Akira lets herself smile as the three of them dissolve into banter, talking about Kābā-kun’s art and the new wedding ring one of their teachers has been wearing. Soon enough Midoriya-kun is all but forgotten, even if Akira knows he won’t be ignored when tomorrow comes.

             < Monday, the last week of September >

            When Izuku wakes up, he feels like he’s been hit by a truck. It’s not that far from the truth, if he’s remembering right. After a few minutes of rolling his limbs, finding new aches with each movement, he sits up and winces at the fires erupting across his abs. He crawls over Eri and stumbles across the hall, hitting the light in the room casually and scratching at his very itchy head. Then he looks in the mirror and lets his jaw drop.

            He’s losing his hair. It’s falling out in his fingers, turning his ridiculously shaggy head into a much more manageable mess of curls. Luckily, he hasn’t made a mess on his way to the bathroom but it’s not so easy going out. So, he hops in the shower hoping that most of his hair is still there.

            Going bald sounds absolutely horrible, thank you very much.

            Eventually he climbs out and empties the drain guard, scowling at the black webs of soaked hair clinging to his fingers. A look in the mirror proves that the change is noticeable, though not drastic.

            “I really messed up this time,” He sighs. The door opens a few minutes later and he trudges out to meet his mother, who’s awake and cooking breakfast.

            “Ooh, Izuku, you’re finally up!” Izuku blinks a bit at the way his mother drags him into a chair, fussing over every little thing. Eventually she puts a plate of breakfast down in front of him and smiles as she takes the seat across from him.

            “Uh,” He frowns when his mother sighs and chuckles, “Morning?”

            “Izuku, it’s three in the afternoon. On Monday.”

            “Wha?” Izuku’s hands still halfway to his mouth as his mother’s eyebrows rise.

            “I said…”

            “B-but that’s not, I ALWAYS wake up, no no wait what about school?” Izuku nearly grabs a handful of his hair when he realizes that’s probably not a good idea and grabs the table instead. His mother rolls her eyes at his reaction.

            “I guess you needed the sleep. After that incident on Saturday I’m not surprised at all. We’re just glad you woke up safely.” She frowns as she gets up and sets a hand on his shoulder. “Did something happen to your hair?”

            “I… It was coming out when I woke up. Falling out.” Izuku sighs.

            “I’ll make an appointment with the hair dresser.” Inko places a quick kiss on his cheek and ruffles what remains of his hair as she heads to her bedroom. “Right after I call work and let them know that I’ll be able to come in tomorrow!”

            Eri is excited when she finds him awake in his desk chair, of course. She gets little bit teary eyed but Izuku does his very best to keep things light. His mother has to watch while Eri takes a shower to get rid of all the hair covering their bed, and Izuku resolves himself to doing the laundry. He spends that day at home, save for his trip to the hair dresser.

            That night, when he can’t sleep, he rolls out of bed and jogs down to the beach. After a few minutes of watching the surf, he looks down at his hands and sighs. He spends a few minutes pacing, thinking back to what had happened in the face of the bomb. Being unable to move at that speed, feeling the burn as he tried. Most of it is a blur, including his acceleration into whatever that was.

            Even the memory of the emptiness waiting for him at top speed is terrifying. Being unable to move, unable to hear, stuck with only his eyes and ears while the rest of the world remains picture perfect. It’s been a while since he’s been afraid of something like this. Real, irrational fear runs through him like ice as he watches the surf and paces.

            “This is a really, really bad idea.” Izuku reminds himself. “Going into that speed the first time made my hair fall out, why would I do it again? Sure, I could save a lot of people moving that fast. If I could keep it up, I could cover the entire country in a blink, but that would mean putting too much stress on my body! That’s insane. No way. No way! If I wanted to do that, I’d…”

            And then he stops, looking over the beach.

            “I’d have to train.” There’s a moment of hesitation before the surf begins to slow. He can feel something in his head throbbing, a faint warning not to push himself. It’s funny, he thinks, that a year and a half ago he’d never have noticed that. Working out and studying his anatomy has changed the way he considers his body in the first place, and now he can feel it adjusting.

            Long before he reaches his maximum he stops. But the sand still hangs in midair as he walks over the beach. He blinks and breathes and stumbles in real time as the world crawls alongside him. There’s a faint roar as the waves hit the surf but it’s a mess, not the calming sound of midnight tides that he knows. At this speed, not quite supersonic but close enough, he can hear all the distortions in the sound.

            He steps up the steps when he feels it. A familiar burning in his muscles, the reminder that he’s pushing himself towards a limit. Izuku grins as he lays his fingers on the handrail, then whoops as he pushes off the bottom step and overtakes the entire staircase in a leap.

            Maybe there’s a spiderweb of cracks on the stairs now, but Izuku couldn’t care less. There’s still something for him to work towards.

            He can get used to the sound of silence.

            ----

            When he wakes up at six am on Tuesday, he pries himself out of bed and sets himself down in his desk chair. There’s a new notebook on his desk, left there last night, and the title only gives him pause for a moment before he picks up his pencil.

            Anomaly Zero: Midoriya Izuku

            Quirk: Superpower

            He takes a little bit to write down everything he remembers from his old routines. Luckily, he has those documented somewhere, so he digs it up and writes those down. Then he puts in the date and starts with a simple diary entry.

            At this time, Midoriya’s body has proven capable of withstanding steel weapons, bullets, blast waves from improvised bombs, impact collision with a vehicle moving 60 Kph, and the attacks of too many villains to count, as well as All Might the number one hero of the time.

            The following will be carefully documented research by the subject to figure out what his top operating speed is and how to push that even further.

            He starts by sitting back and thinking. A pencil rolls though his fingers casually as he spins in the chair, and then he groans. It’s barely been a minute and he’s pushing back into his desk a little too hard.

            “Idiot,” He mutters quietly, scratching his head. “Start at the beginning. Focus on the process, then dissect it. It has to start somewhere, it’s a bodily process so…”

            After a few minutes he grabs a stopwatch from his closet and props it up on the desk. Once he’s thrown together a rough timetable, he hits the button and tries to “speed up”.

            The numbers slow to a crawl, and suddenly he’s watching milliseconds pass like seconds. When he grabs his pencil, he blinks and frowns.

            Is it worth losing an entire journal trying to write at super speed?

            No. No it isn’t.

            ---- 

            Izuku isn’t really sure why he texted Kābā before class. He’s resigned to the fact that his friends are upset with him, and that’s fine. Jumping in front of a bomb wasn’t the best way of resolving that situation (he resolves to work on his jumping ability somehow). Despite the restless anxiety in his heart he’s content to let them work through it. And if they can’t deal with it then Izuku has to accept that. They shouldn’t have to deal with his craziness if they don’t want to.

            One thing that he realizes when he FINALLY makes it to school is that this whole “timekeeping” thing is completely ridiculous. He’s spent the entire morning switching back and forth between hyperawareness and baseline. So far, he’s got an idea of how he can do it without moving, but it feels like flexing in place or trying to move something with his mind (he would know he tried for fourteen years). There’s a process to it, and he’s not quite there yet.

            Kābā is… tense. He comes into class and comments on Izuku’s haircut, which is more than Izuku deserves. When the other boy decides to tap out Izuku lets him go easily. It feels odd, watching the people around him slow down and speed up between sentences.

            It gives him a lot of time to think, though. Even if his headache is getting kind of bad. He can’t help thinking that half the day is over when class starts.

            One look at the clock proves that he’s got far too much time left in the day.

            ----

            “I’m sorry, sensei.” Izuku bows at the waist, knowing that he’s giving more than necessary. There’s a noise of shock from the man in front of him when he does it, but nothing to stop him from continuing. “Even after everything you’ve done for me, I was rude, and I ignored your advice. Please forgive my ungratefulness.”

            Kurobayashi-sensei doesn’t say anything before he sighs and turns to actually face Izuku.

            “Please stand up, Midoriya-kun, you’ve done nothing to demand this type of apology.” Kurobayashi takes off his glasses and blinks a few times as Izuku stands up. “I believe I was rude as well and might have overstepped. I owe you just as much of an apology.”

            “Could we… just say we forgive everything and talk about it later then?” Izuku tries, hoping that for once he can skip the whole ‘lecture’ portion. After a moment, his teacher makes a noise that sounds like a cough, something Izuku knows very well his sensei is incapable of.

            “Yes, I suppose cutting to the chase might be best for both of us. What did you want to talk about, Midoriya-kun?”

            “I want to test my speed.” One of the things Izuku likes about Kurobayashi-sensei is that the man takes time to turn things over in his head. He can almost see the gears turning as his teacher taps his glasses against his thigh.

            “And I take it you have some ideas?”

            “Yes, Sensei.”

            “Did something happen?”

            “I… Do you want me to tell you what happened or to tell you why I want to test this?”

            “Tell me both, in that order. I’ll keep my reservations for later, perhaps over tea.”

            “I saved some people from an attack. A bombing,” Second reason for enjoying Kurobayashi-sensei’s company: the man can’t make faces of shock during Izuku’s explanations. “And I managed to speed up to… Well, too fast. I couldn’t keep it up.”

            “A bomb, hmm? Interesting.” Kurobayashi-sensei stands up and stretches, then motions for Izuku to follow him. “So you’re looking to improve your ability to move at those kinds of speeds? That would be an incredible power. But that also sounds difficult.”

            “I thought so as well, sensei. I was hoping you could get a few more of those dummies. Or that you could introduce me to the person who built the one we have so I could get more.”

            “That should be fine. He’s a rather small-time support worker, but he enjoys projects like this. I believe his son is an aspiring engineer as well.” Kurobayashi-sensei rumbles curiously.

            “That would be very helpful.”

            “So, how shall we go about this?”

            “I’d like to try moving around the field at high speeds if you wouldn’t mind observing. If that’s too much trouble I can get a camera set up.”

            “No, that will be fine. However, we will be here later to use the fields. Surely one or two won’t have students, but are you sure you’re okay letting people see?”

            “They won’t be able to see much, Sensei.”

            “Perhaps I misunderstood, Midoriya,” Kurobayashi-sensei stops in the middle of the hall and turns, peering at Izuku with one eye. “What speed are we talking about, here?”

            “Supersonic, sensei,” Izuku swallows and forces himself to smile up at the shark. “And… maybe faster.”

            After a moment, his teacher turns to face him and takes a knee on the linoleum.

            “Midoriya-kun. I’d like to discuss these things with your mother at some point if we’re going to continue. So that you and I can be on the same page regarding your… ability. And how we’re going to train you.”

            “That’s fine, sir. You can meet Eri,” Izuku winces when he remembers the last time the two of them talked about Eri. But Kurobayashi-sensei makes a little humming noise and stands up, already putting the argument behind them.

            “I’d quite like that. Perhaps I’ll bring my wife along. How does tea this weekend sound?”

            “I’ll check with my mom and tell you tomorrow, but it should be fine. We’ll have to stay at my apartment, though, Eri doesn’t like people much.”

            “Completely understandable. It will give you time to tell me about her.” With a twist the shark aims a single black eye at him. “I’d like to see your parenting for my own eyes before I judge you prematurely again.”

            “That… That sounds ominous, sensei,”

            “You’re my student, Midoriya-kun, I expect the best from you. Especially if that little girl depends on you.”

            Well, there’s nothing he can say to that, is there?

            Once he’s done talking with Kurobayashi-sensei, he pushes his speed as far as he dares and creeps through the school. He finds his friends up on the roof, looking a bit tired. They’re together, though, so that’s good.  

            ----

            “Izuku, honey, come help me with dinner please?”

            “Coming!” Eri giggles as he flies them through the living room and into the kitchenette. Over the past few months, it’s become normal for his mother to let him handle the knives at dinner, when he has the time. Homework passes relatively quickly when he can read three orders of magnitude faster than most people, even if he has to read things three or four times. It helps that it’s Wednesday, and they’ve got a relatively light workload in the middle of the week.

            Normally he’d take Eri off his shoulders for this, but a bit of inspiration has him pulling her forward, wrapping her arms around his head so she can steady herself.

            “Wanna see something cool, Eri-chan?” He feels her nod against his curls and grins when she inhales sharply.

            For the moment, he forgets about all the little worries he’s got about moving too fast. He picks up the knife, turns it over under Eri’s eyes a few times, and pushes himself until the world around him is picture perfect.

            Chopping the vegetables feels natural at this speed. He makes a point of moving slowly, even though he knows he’s probably going to leave little breeze in the room when he’s done. The knife feels like a ballpoint pen against his fingers when he messes up his grip.

            Before he realizes it, he’s done. He tries to turn when he realizes Eri is still on his shoulders, staring down at his knife hand while gripping his hair. A smile breaks out as he sets down the knife and sets his hands on the cutting board.

            “All done!” Eri gasps when she looks at the pile of freshly cut veggies and wheezes a bit as his finger slip up to tickle her sides.

            “How’d you do that!”

            “What are you talking about? Didn’t you see?”

            “No! You cheated!”

            “There aren’t any rules in chopping vegetables!” Eri giggles again at the quip and Izuku cleans the knife. He sorts the vegetables as they debate what “auntie” could be making, then pecks his mother on the cheek. When they head back into the living room, he grabs her knees and grins as he bends over so she dangles from his shoulders.

            She’s been laughing lately, so he’s done his best to bring it out of her whenever they play like this. When it started, he can’t say. Probably sometime before Overhaul’s arrest. But these little things, playing airplanes and drawing with her, have been the few moments he can actually take a load off.

            Eri seems to bring out the best in him.

            Apparently, he can only do that for other people. Which isn’t terrible, but it would be nice if he could do it for himself too. Maybe then Tachibana wouldn’t be so worried.

            They’re sitting around the table when his mother looks up and her smile tightens.

            “How are your friends? I’m surprised they haven’t come over yet,” Worry edges into her expression as Izuku hesitates.

            “I haven’t heard from anyone this week. Kābā seems frustrated. He’s been doodling in class again.” Izuku stabs his chopsticks into his rice and frowns. “I’m not surprised they’re mad though.”

            “I’m sure they’ll come around. We both know that sometimes people care too much,” Izuku shares a sheepish grin with his mother as she drinks some of her soup, “But you’re a sweet young man, and those kids are strong. They’ll come back soon, honey.”

            “I know.” Izuku sighs, letting his smile die slowly as he watches Eri eat her omelets. “Kurobayashi-sensei and his wife said they can come over on Sunday. Is that still okay?”

            “Of course, sweetie. I’d love to meet him.” His mother grins as she reaches over and rubs a napkin corner over Eri’s cheek. “He’s the first teacher who ever really invested in you, he must be special.”

            “Just, eh… His quirk, mom,”

            “The shark quirk?” She laughs and waves a hand, takes a bite and swallows before he can say anything else. “Izuku, honey, one of my best friends back in college had a centipede for a head. We’ll get along fine!”

            (Izuku makes a habit of taking pictures, but from then on, he makes it a point to photograph people’s faces as he introduces Kurobayashi-sensei. Eri, despite his initial worry was so in awe of Kurobayashi-sensei that she stared at him constantly and even sat in the man’s lap. His mother, on the other hand… He finally manages to catch that weird thing where her eyes bug out of her head in the photos, and they’ll laugh about those photos for years.)

             -----

            Kurobayashi-sensei’s friend is named Genji-kun. He’s got a black beard that’s surprisingly fluffy, bright orange eyes and a chest like a barrel. Izuku can’t help fidgeting when the man shows up after school on Thursday with nine boxes full of the special dummies.

            “So THIS is your mystery student, Kurobayashi!” The man’s laugh is like thunder when he grabs Izuku’s hand and shakes it hard enough to jostle him up to the shoulder. “I’ve got to say, I expected him to be taller.”

            “Genji-kun, this is Midoriya Izuku-kun, a student of mine.” Kurobayashi-sensei rumbles pleasantly, clasping Genji-kun’s hand tightly. “You remember our deal, I trust?”

            “Of course! Trust me, I can’t wait to see it.”

            “Uh,” Izuku winces as the pair turn to him. “Deal?”

            “I offered for Genji-kun here to watch your practice today.” Kurobayashi-sensei rumbles, blinking three times. “If you don’t mind too much, Midoriya-kun.”

            “W-well… Since he’s providing the dummies, I guess I can’t complain,”

            “Great!” Genji-kun chuckles as he hoists a pair of dummies up under his arms. “Where do you want these?”

            Izuku sighs, then runs a hand over his eyes.

            “Could you set those two down there at the far end while I set these others on the opposite end?”

            The athletic fields are finally empty around five thirty, leaving Izuku with ten dummies on the inside edge of the running track and a pair of cameras set up on either end. His teacher and Genji-kun stand on the outer edge of the track behind him as he runs through a few stretches.

            Izuku is nervous about having the stranger around, but he trusts Kurobayashi-sensei a lot. More than almost anyone. Compared to every other teacher Izuku has ever known, the man has worried over him more than anyone but Izuku’s own mother.

            At the end of the day, Izuku has to get over his fear of being treated differently.

            Well, that day isn’t today but he might as well start somewhere.

            “Sensei, on your mark. The button will activate all the targets, right?”

            “Of course! I hooked them all up to the remote.” Genji-kun grins as he looks at the teacher, who simply chuckles. Izuku sighs, then walks to the middle of the field and gets into his stance. “How fast are you planning on hitting all the targets, kid?”

            “The field is around 400 meters around,” Izuku called, checking each target’s distance from him before taking a breath to steady his frantic heart, “I want to hit all of them in half a second.”

            “That’s how long it takes to get a reading off the sensors, kid! You’d have to cover hundreds of square meters in seconds to manage that!”

            “On my mark, Midoriya-kun.”

            “Kurobayashi, what the hell are you feeding this kid?”

            “Remember our bet, Genji-kun.”

            “Hasn’t anyone ever told this kid to be realistic?”

            “He’s being modest, actually.”

            Izuku can’t help smiling at the way his sensei says that. Someone seems to think he can manage it. He isn’t sure he’s be able to yet, but it’s nice to be trusted.

            “3, 2, 1…”

            The noise draws out into a long groan, and then it ceases to exist. It takes everything Izuku has to push off his right foot before he shoots forward like a rocket. For a fraction of a second, he feels the air drawing tight around him. An ocean presses against his face as he carves a wake through the air.

            His first target is just somewhere around eighty meters in front of him, at the far end of the track directly from his starting point. Panic fills him when his foot skips and scorches the ground, but the blow lands. A feather touch, moving at this speed. Then he spins and leaps towards the other end of the track.

            Kurobayashi-sensei told him that he should take a straight route. Izuku isn’t giving himself the option. He never takes the easy route.

            A headache is already brewing when he spins from the second target and streaks toward the third. But he grinds his teeth and puts a little more power behind his moves. Once an object breaks the sound barrier, there’s nothing stopping it. He’s free now, and the world is chasing him.

            Is this how All Might feels? No wonder that guy LAUGHS at villainy.

            Five takes a lot more effort than three did. He’s changing up moves, too. The first blow was a straight, the second a left hook, his third was an uppercut… Gears don’t do this kind of power justice anymore, so Izuku just does whatever he can. Each move feels natural at the time, based on the distance and his momentum.

            Tears are leaking from his eyes by the time he hits number eight. Moving alone is making his entire body ache, but there’s a clear number on each target’s timer. Izuku is running out of time. Every breath burning in his lungs reminds him that he’s about to lose.

            Of course, the last run is the longest. From the target right beside his first target to the one directly across from it, left of his second. A diagonal rush across the field. The distance isn’t as bad as his second leap, but he’s not fresh.

            His foot slips when he tries to jump, and he barely manages to catch himself.

            A curse escapes him as his trailing leg slides under him and forces him forward, parallel to the ground but not even a meter from dragging his face through the dirt. His open palm hits the dummy’s chest while his head passes it, overshooting with no clear way to stop.

            Izuku and the target both go sprawling when he lets go of his acceleration. His body relaxes and a blast shakes the school while he rolls across the track. The target bounces, luckily, and when it stops lands faceup twenty meters from Izuku’s resting place. Kurobayashi and Genji are both standing over him when Izuku blinks and winces at the sheer animosity of his headache.

            “What the actual hell, kid? Aren’t you quirkless?”

            “Perhaps now isn’t the time, Genij-kun. Midoriya are you alright?”

            “My head hurts, Sensei, but I’m okay… What’s the time?”

            “Kid you just exploded. Take a second before we worry about that.”

            “Please, Genji-kun. I’ll get Midoriya situated. I’d like to know who won our bet as well.”

            “You’re a real shark sometimes, you know that? Fine, get the kid up.” Genji sighs as he walks over to right the last dummy, leaving Kurobayashi-sensei to sit Izuku up and hold his shoulder with a meaty hand.

            “He’s not wrong, Midoriya-kun. You’re pushing this rather hard. And you already don’t take care of yourself enough.”

            “Sensei please,” Izuku groans, wincing at the aftereffects of his stunt. “I told you, this is the only way for me to improve now, pushing it is just…”

            “We both know that’s not true. Didn’t I tell you?” Kurobayashi-sensei sighs as he gives Izuku a hand up, then pats him on the shoulder. “Building strength is about patience and diligence, not pushing yourself to the breaking point.”

            “I thought building muscle required breaking muscle,” Izuku grins a bit, then winces at the agony sewn into his abs.

            “Don’t be a smart ass, Midoriya-kun.”

            “Language, Sensei,” Izuku huffs, dragging himself to the dummy and Genji-kun, who seems frozen. “I might pick up bad habits if you’re not careful.”

            “You learned those long before I came around, Midoriya-kun.” Kurobayashi-sensei rumbles. Izuku stops, then grins when he sees the screen on the front of the dummy. “Genji-kun, I believe I won the bet.”

            “You cheated, you damn shark! Who in their right mind would have believed you?”

            “It’s only two thousand yen, my friend, nothing to get upset over.”

            “I beg to differ! You’re buying me a drink with that money!”

            Izuku just laughs as the pair bicker back and forth.

            The screen reads one solid hit at 1.001 seconds after the start. Apparently, he’s got room for improvement.

            When he reaches home that night, he opens his new notebook to the first page and stares at it for a little while. Before he goes to bed, he decides science is worth more than his modesty.

            Anomaly Zero: Midoriya Izuku

            Quirk: Superpower Limitless Broken

            Unlimited potential

            ----

            By the time class starts on Friday, Izuku has to admit that he has a problem.

            His little stunt at dinner on Wednesday led to a couple more experiments moving at high speed in class on Thursday. No one seemed to notice how fast he was writing in math class, but apparently, he was noticeably out of sorts. Then there was his failure after school. It’s a bit ridiculous that he feels totally refreshed after a night of sleep. Not that he’s complaining.

            Getting to the station by his house was easy enough. He can walk lightly enough at speed that he doesn’t leave cracks behind unless he pushes off. Slowly pushing himself up to supersonic seems to give him more time to adjust, which saves him on the headache.

            Walking through school in super speed promises to be a whole new issue. For one he’ll be dodging literal crowds of people, and he won’t know until after he slows down whether anyone actually saw him or not. Then there’s the issue of walking into class. He hasn’t worked everything out yet, but there’s not exactly anything to lose.

            Unless the sonic bursts leave the school in chaos when he sits down. He still isn’t sure what happens from other people’s point of view when he moves that fast. All the different ways this can go wrong makes his head swim.

            The cars crossing the street slow to a halt as Izuku takes a breath. Everyone in the street and the courtyard is still as a statue, leaving a maze for him to navigate as he walks into the school. It burns a bit even after a week. Moving at this kind of speed actually takes effort once he’s through the courtyard. Stairs are a fresh hell he never thought about, but he manages to get through without touching anyone and reaches the door to his classroom fairly easily.

            Letting go proves to be the most difficult part. Izuku is terrified of what’s about to happen. He can’t help thinking that the school will break down under the strain of his steps, or that maybe a sonic blast could hurt someone. When the distorted sounds grinding against his ears start speeding up, Izuku just shuts his eyes and prays.

            He opens the door as some people down in the courtyard shout, but other than a faint breeze, no one seems to say anything. It takes everything he has not to collapse into his chair and cry with relief.

           ----

            Izuku takes a half day on Saturday with his mom’s permission, claiming that he’s still not feeling well when his homeroom teacher brings up his absence from Monday. Admittedly, he’s ahead of the curriculum a bit and he’s comfortable taking the time out. There’s too much to do now that he’s messed up his Routine. Eri wants to go to the park this afternoon, and it looks like a nice day for it. Doing community service is nice but he needs a couple of his supervisors to sign off on the additions to his resume. Which means he has three appointments (two construction companies and a rescue agency) all across town that he needs to be at.

            Oh, and Genji-kun wanted to meet and talk about the training he did on Thursday. Kurobayashi-sensei claims the man is a workaholic. Izuku has no idea what to expect.

            He’s wandering out of his first appointment at a quarter to one when he gets an alert on his phone, notifying him of a villain attack in the area. A fire villain is fighting Backdraft three blocks over, and the fight has been going on for nearly twenty minutes now. Firetrucks will be there soon but there’s no end in sight, considering the villain is smart enough to keep Backdraft on the defensive.

            Izuku sighs as he wanders in that direction. Sadly, it’s right on his way, and he doesn’t feel like taking a detour. Backdraft is a pretty good guy. He doesn’t deserve a bad headline today.

            Before he can cross the street to reach the crowd watching the fight, he sees a pair of blondes at the end of his block doing the same. Izuku pauses for a second when he notices the oversized mustard suit hanging off the spindly giant, then peers at the girl following the man. Reading about David Shield had been shocking, and more shocking was the verdict that All Might would be the adoptive guardian of Melissa Shield.

            All Might’s personal life isn’t any of his business. Izuku has absolutely no right to get involved with them. On the other hand, if All Might is thinking of burning his time here… Well, that’s ridiculous. This is just a B-rank villain at the end of the day. No need for All Might to show up here. He’s busy, clearly.

            Instead of going in from the crowd, Izuku wanders to the end of the block and follows the blondes. He shoulders past All Might as he accelerates and jumps over the crowd, then puts the villain in a shallow grave. Morbid, sure, but it’s gentle enough that the punk is unconscious at worst. By the time everyone in the crowd blinks, Izuku is standing beside All Might adjusting his backpack. The hero pukes up some blood, shocked by the display, but Izuku decides to ignore that.

             “Save your time, Yagi-sama.” He catches the panic in the girl’s voice as everyone catches up and he can’t help thinking of the times when Tachibana caught him doing hero work. “And take better care of yourself. If not for yourself then for her.”

            Bakugō’s words echo in his mind as he wanders down the street, and suddenly he feels miserable. Well… He’s only got a few more errands to run. Then he can take Eri to the park.

            Next month won’t be as busy. He’s stronger now than he was. Izuku just has to keep telling himself that.

            < Monday evening, October 1^st >

            What is the definition of a room?

            Because this is a room, in a sense. There are no doors, no windows, no real light sources. Only a long glass table lined with padded chairs, and a projector hanging from the ceiling. Light fills the room from somewhere, though no one is sure where. Just enough to see, enough the dimensions are uncertain, and the shadows make distance between targets murky.

            Everyone in the room is nervous. There isn’t a person alive who wants to be in this room, but here they are. Several people stare at one another, wondering exactly how they came to be there. Giran makes sense, considering they ALL know Giran. But several of them are heroes and sidekicks, CEOs and even members of the Police Force still in uniform. High ranking ones, too.

            The tension in the room continues to climb after they’ve all arrived, courtesy of the pair sitting at the front of the room. One looks like some kind of horror movie monster, playing with blue fire and snickering as they fidget. He’s dressed in bloody rags and running a cold eye over them as if he’d like nothing more than to burn them all alive. In the business, he’s the type of hired gun that makes people nervous: too far gone to reel in once you let him go, too powerful to try and keep on a leash.

            Somehow, though, the bloody nightmare isn’t the greatest threat in the room. For whatever reason, the nightmare looks to the man in the cloak for directions. And the man in the cloak has a look in his eyes that promises death. They know that at one point, this person wore real human hands, but those are gone. Most don’t know his name, but they know of the hands. Now there’s only the black rags and… something in the air.  

            When the man in the cloak stands the room stills. His eyes focus on the table, as if he’s only just stepped into the room, and Shigaraki Tomura smiles like death incarnate.

            “We start the attack on U.A., and All Might, today,” He offers gently, extending both palms to the crowd of villains before him. “As of now, we are at war with the heroes. Either you’re with us… Or you’re against us.”

            Behind him, a screen lights up with a newsfeed, showing an apartment building with blue flames bursting from one of the windows, spreading to those beside it as if they’d doused the building in napalm. No one knows when the nightmare disappeared from the wall, but not a single person thinks to fight Shigaraki Tomura now that he’s alone.

            When no one says anything, his fingers settle on the glass table. The only warning, before several people are screaming and the table is gone, is a crack. Villains stare as their own are turned to dust, writhing on the ground or stumbling through the crowd. It spreads like a plague, but they quickly isolate the victims.

            Not quickly enough to save the fifteen whose ashes cover the stone floor, but quickly, nonetheless.

            “I’m not a mind reader, gentlemen… and ladies,” Shigaraki says lazily, hiding his hands in the rags of his cloak. “And I believe I asked you a question.”

Chapter Text

10: Destabilize

            <Saturday, the first weekend of October>

            “The Green Wind Vigilante strikes again!”

            “Reports have come in that the Green Wind vigilante was spotted at the scene of last week’s bomb incident, and that the lack of casualties can be attributed to his intervention! According to the witnesses, he’s a young man dressed casually, with green hair and eyes. One witness mentioned that he saved everyone while shirtless, moving at speeds that left the bystanders and police completely lost throughout the encounter. All sources we were able to contact have agreed that, while plain looking and rather normal, the boy has a quirk that seems on par with heroes such as Edgeshot and perhaps All Might! If you don’t believe us, ALL reports from the bomb scene agree that the vigilante leapt between the bomb and a civilian, saving the young girl’s life in the process…”

             Katsuki scowls at the report as he scans the page, even though he’s not reading anymore. He shoves his phone in his pocket and rolls his shoulder, relishing the ache of sore muscles pulling along his arm.

            It’s been two weeks and change since he confronted Deku. Long enough for the moron to go and throw himself in front of a bomb and somehow survive. Just long enough for Katsuki’s classmates to fall apart, apparently. One got himself kidnapped for a week, then overcooked by some villain. The rest are getting more pathetic by the day. None of them are even a challenge anymore.

            Which brings Katsuki to his latest issue. He stares at his hands, at the cords of muscle and the wriggling tendons hidden just beneath the skin (to anyone watching, he’s sullen and quiet, which defies everything they know of Bakugō Katsuki).

            His body, and his quirk, don’t feel like they used to. Pushing himself to his limits has never felt this good before.

            After his little chat with Deku, he’d gotten so furious he nearly destroyed himself and the gym in the process. It helps that it was a friend’s place, some fashionista training headquarters, but his parents had gotten word of his little stunt.

            Then there was the exercise Eraserhead gave them. One versus eighteen.

            Katsuki never felt more alive than in that moment. But he was well past his limits by the end of that fight, and Recovery Girl had been blunt when she looked him over. No way in hell should he have been capable of it, let alone conscious after something like that.

            Which means he caught whatever Deku has, or he just… unlocked something. People whispered about quirks pushed to their limits sometimes. Rapid evolution in a short time.

            Katsuki isn’t holding his breath. The Deku theory makes the most sense.

            “Hey, aren’t you that kid from U.A.?” Katsuki stops as a voice breaks the silence covering the street. The lack of noise is oppressive, suddenly, and Katsuki snorts when he shoves his hands into his pockets. Shigaraki doesn’t look constipated anymore, which is an improvement. Maybe the fucker in black standing behind him has something to do with it. No sane woman would appreciate the whole “walking husk” theme. He turns as a knife plunges through the space where his shoulder was. An explosion bites into the overextended psycho as Katsuki’s eyes return to Shigaraki.

            “This ain’t gonna go the way you think, Hands.” Katsuki says evenly, curling his fingers around the ever-present warmth in his hand. The popping sound is soothing, but nothing is more welcome than the raw bloodlust flooding the empty street. Restraint drains from Katsuki’s muscles in the space between attacks, untying knots all the way down his back.

            Compared to the first time they met, Shigaraki is child’s play. Bakugō growls as the villain closes the gap with his hands out to either side. If she’s smart, knife bitch will be aiming for his right shoulder. She seems the type to jump for it, so it’ll come down towards his chest.  

            Both villains cry out as a pair of explosions tear into the street and fill the air with smoke. Using the explosions as a catalyst Katsuki leaps backward and twists in the air, unleashing a vicious explosion into the knife bitch. When Hands comes through the smoke looking for a fight Katsuki’s flash bang barely slows him down. Neither of them lands a blow for the next few minutes, though Katsuki tears the street to pieces trying.

            “Fuck off,” Katsuki’s shoulder flares a bit under the force of the deciding blow, but watching Hands get shot from a canon is pretty rewarding. The blast leaves all four of them glaring at one another as the smoke billows around them. Blondie is torn to bits, dressed in rags compared to when they started. Hands doesn’t look any worse off but the guy is basically a zombie.

            The fucker dressed in black worries Katsuki a bit. He doesn’t like variables in fights.

            “You should just give up,” Shigaraki croons, grinning like a fucking madman. The blonde wipes blood from her nose as she stumbles onto her feet. “You’re outnumbered.”

            “You’re outclassed.” Katsuki lets off a couple firecrackers, heating his palms up a bit more. They caught him on his way home from the gym. He doesn’t have any time to screw around.

            What follows becomes a blur. Hands and knives fly out of the smokescreen from every direction imaginable. If he were fighting anyone else Katsuki almost wouldn’t believe it’s one against two. The knife bitch is unpredictable, and Hands is fucking fast. But when he takes to the air neither of them can keep up, and he leaves almost a dozen human craters in the street before the pain starts getting unbearable.

            “You’re still new, but I’ll admit I’m impressed.” The stranger’s voice comes through the smoke as Katsuki tries to hide, to rest his throbbing hands.  

            “Leave the brat to me, Dabi.”

            “He’s right, Shigaraki. You’re outclassed.” ‘Dabi’ calls. Footsteps break the silence, heading straight for Katsuki. His lips peel back as his heart begins spreading ice cold fear through his veins. “We’re on a time limit.”

            Katsuki barely catches the light out of the corner of his eye. He’s airborne easily but the heat is enough to make his eyes water and char his shirt a full meter from the blaze. Another spark forces him back to earth as a new fireball engulfs his airspace.

            When Dabi walks through the smoke, Katsuki’s entire body freezes in place. Blue fire seeps out of the man’s cheeks, exposing glassy white bone instead of flesh and fangs too long to be just teeth. Purple skin covers his arms, stapled just beneath the shoulder, but the tips of his fingers are entirely gone. Flame flickers between his fingertips as it spills away from his palms, exposing what can only be sharpened bone.

            Agony tears through Katsuki’s right wrist in that moment. He doesn’t need to look to know that Shigaraki caught him, but he looks anyway. The smile on the villain’s face would be the single creepiest thing in Katsuki’s brain if he hadn’t just stared Death in the face.

            “Outclassed, eh? Then this will hurt even worse!” Shigaraki cackles as the decay rots most of Katsuki’s hand. His arm is gone by the time Katsuki’s brain kicks through panic and into “kill everything” mode. When the explosion rips through his decaying shoulder, the laughter dies.

            “Like this,” Katsuki is already moving, putting his open palm beneath Shigaraki’s chest in the villain’s moment of weakness. “would keep me from winning.”

            The following explosion is Katsuki’s strongest blast. Shigaraki stays down this time, and even the blonde bitch looks unsure of her odds. When Katsuki turns back to the man in black, his vision is starting to swim. He doesn’t miss the crooked smile on the bastard’s face.

            “Oh?” The man’s hands slide into the pockets of his tatters jacket as Katsuki starts to sway.

            “You’re like him.” Katsuki glares at the monster in black.

            “Don’t sell yourself short, kid. You’re getting there,” Dabi turns and trudges through the smoke to grab Shigaraki’s unconscious body. The blonde stalks over to them, still grinning like a maniac. “I’ll leave you be for now. Maybe you’ll be more interesting next time.”

            Katsuki’s vision darkens as the villains disappear into a purple mist. He never hears the sirens turning the corner.

            (When paramedics reach him, he’s dead to the world save for a ghost of a pulse, standing in a crater well beneath the street level clutching his shredded right shoulder)

            -0XXXX TRIGGER WARNING: BLOOD, GORE, TORTURE AND MURDER AHEAD PLEASE SKIP IF NECESSARY XXXX0-

             The room is deathly quiet as the video plays. Despite the poor quality, every teacher recognizes the face of the boy in the frame. Behind the boy are people who can only be his family, all beaten and limp against the ropes tying them all together.

            “You really do train them well, heroes…” A voice croons, watching as the boy shudders and, slowly, turns his eyes to the camera. The signs of torture are obvious through the static. Blackened arms hang limp at the boy’s sides, and the fountain of dried blood beneath his left eyelid suggests that he’s lost that eye. “We kept this kid for a week, but he didn’t give us anything useful.”

            “We even promised to spare his family!” Someone, a young girl maybe, cackles off camera.

            “He didn’t believe us, sadly. So now he gets to watch.”

            A groan escapes the broken child on the screen as someone kicks him over. Someone moves into the scene and kneels, yanking the boy’s head up by his hair. On the other side of the screen, a blonde girl skips over the boy’s legs and grins when the boy begins to struggle.

            “No sleeping. This is your fault, kid.” The unknown villain claims, reaching down just before the girl’s knife digs into one of the captives. For a brief moment, the camera catches the victim’s wide eyes looking towards the boy. She holds eye contact as the knife opens her throat and the life drains out of her eyes, down bruised skin into her dirty blouse. When they finally let her head go, it knocks against the little girl directly in view of the camera and wakes her.

            As if the first half of the feed wasn’t horrible enough, the smallest captive struggles against the ropes after waking. The villains seem content to wait and let the first victim bleed out entirely, giving the parents time to wake up as well. None of them manage more than muffled screaming and wriggling against their bonds. Somehow the camera is aimed at the mother’s back, focused on the boy and the youngest child. Despite this, when the blonde finally crouches in front of the mother the knife stays in her neck far, far too long. When the blonde stands up, her oversized sweater has turned almost entirely red. 

            Before the pair of corpses can let the rope fall slack, the villain grabs the little girl by her shirt and hauls her up. The father tries to fight, but his struggle reveals the impossible angles of his knees and bloodstained slacks covering his wounds. He’s screaming, crying, when the blonde girl smiles like a cat and swipes up some of the mother’s blood.

            “It’s best when it’s still warm, you know?” The little girl’s screaming dies as the villain morphs into a perfect copy of her mother. Madness drips from the woman’s eyes instead of blood. Only the boy fights back when the villain takes her knife and opens up the little girl’s stomach, just beneath the ribs, and slams the knife into her thigh.

            The father tries to crawl over his wife’s body to reach his daughter. Sobs fill the room as the girl weeps and begs her father for help. Just before the man can reach her, the knife opens his throat, and the little girl’s sobbing dies entirely.

            She doesn’t die for several minutes afterward.

            “See what happens, kid? You should have just given up your teachers.” The villain holding the boy stands and throws the limp teen into the swamp of lukewarm blood, leaving him at the feet of the villain wearing his mother’s face. He groans as he watches her skin bubble and melt, revealing the fangs of the murderer.

            “You were so cute too… But everyone knows that tough guys are boring.” The girl giggles. “Soft boys are best, especially when they bleed!”

            “Though I’ve got to admit, I respect that kind of tenacity. We all do. It’s that kind of thing that makes a good villain.” The cameraman calls. “Don’t worry, you won’t even feel it.”

            Blue consumes the screen, and the feed goes dark.

            “That recording,” Nezu calls, dragging the teachers and heroes in the conference room out of their misery. “Was broadcast on live television. Our student was kidnapped and tortured for a week without our notice. Eraserhead was assaulted by the hero killer and barely escaped with his life. Another of our hero students, Bakugō Katsuki, is in critical condition after Shigaraki and two others attacked him in broad daylight.

            “All this happened in the space of four days. The League of Villains, given enough time, has apparently recovered and returned to their former agenda. We can no longer afford to maintain the status quo.” Nezu presses the pads of his paws together, staring at the assembled heroes.

            “Do we have any leads on the League?” Endeavor calls out, stirring several others from the trance that seems to have settled over the room.

            “We are working on it. Currently all our government resources are tracking them down, but there isn’t much to go on. The League have a portal quirk at their disposal.”

            “They’ve crippled your students and you have nothing to say about it?” Endeavor snarls.

            “We are working on it.” Nezu’s rage cuts through the storm of muttering and puts Endeavor on the back foot easily. “Rest assured, this our highest priority. All Might is out of the country handling what could be a catastrophic event in Alaska. You’ve all been called so I can brief you on your new jurisdictions and duties.

            “As of this moment, I’m personally taking charge of Tokyo’s Heroes. I’ve already prepared your assignments. Teachers prepare the students for protective custody and follow the plans we laid in place for constructing the dorms.”

             -OKAY YOU'RE SAFE HERE... SORT OF. I MEAN, IT STILL HAPPENED. JUST NOT TO YOU. 

            -ENJOY!

           <Sunday, the second week of October>

            Melissa isn’t entirely sure what to do.

With Uncle Toshi off saving the world again and U.A. at war with some people calling themselves the League of Villains, she’s been left to her own devices within the grounds. Power Loader is supposed to be her teacher, but no one even seems sure if school will continue.

            Everyone’s seen the broadcast. She wouldn’t blame Nezu-sama if he locked the campus down and ended the second semester early.

            Wandering the halls is nice, though. The teachers, all heroes, seem to be wrapped up in their plans and business. After an hour, Melissa has the floorplan memorized and she’s seen every room.

            She’s passing by the front entrance, about to start her second time through the building, when the alarm lights flare and a shrill whistle blasts through the hall. Before she can wonder why the alarms are dying out early, or even why they activated at all, someone yanks the front door open and storms inside.

            The idea of facing a villain alone leaves Melissa almost too scared to think straight. Her eyes are full of unshed tears, her hands are shaking, and the intruder barely takes three steps before her knees hit the ground. Mangled constructs (former constructs) of metal groan and cave under his grip, then fall to the floor of the entrance.

            “Oh, uh… This is awkward.” Melissa blinks through the tears when the intruder stops and takes a step back. “Look, I’m just here to visit someone, I’m not going to hurt anyone. This probably looks bad… Wait, you’re Melissa Shield!”

            “W-what?” She scoots back against the nearest wall as the intruder sidles to her left. Now that her mind isn’t paralyzed by fear, she realizes the intruder can’t be much older than she is. On top of that, his fluffy green hair and the painfully awkward way he’s pointing at her shatter any possible menace he held before.

            “Right, sorry, not the time. It was nice meeting you, but I really have to go. I’m kind of in the middle of something.”

            “Who are you?!” Melissa isn’t sure whether to be afraid or to run and get someone’s help. At the same time, the boy is already jogging down the hall. Before she can really think about it, she scrabbles to her feet and takes off after him. “YOU CAN’T GO THAT WAY, IT’S FOR AUTHORIZED PERSONELL…! NEZU-SAMA, HELP!”

            “I’ll explain everything later, but I promise that I’m allowed to be here!”

            “YOU BROKE IN!” Melissa yelps as the green boy stops in front of the elevator and presses the keypad, too familiar with the interface for Melissa to be entirely sure he’s lying. “You’re trespassing, first, and secondly you destroyed school property!”

            “Okay first off,” The boy crosses his arms as the elevator chimes, turning to face her and look up at her with a frown. “If I was a villain, why would I care about either of those things?”

            “I…!”

            “Second, blame Nezu for not upgrading security after I broke in the first time.” Melissa’s jaw drops as the boy waves a hand and casually walks into the elevator. “Everything was in the exact same place. That’s just bad management.”

            “You’ve done this BEFORE?!”

            “More importantly, don’t you think the alarms would still be going off if I wasn’t allowed in here?” Melissa doesn’t have an answer for that. All she can do is watch the boy sigh and look up at the corner of the elevator. “Where would I put a camera if I was a deranged artificial intelligence or an insane manic inventor?”

            “I’m sorry what,”

            “I’ll have you know your words are extremely offensive, Midoriya-kun.” An alien voice calls through the intercom. The look on the boy’s face doesn’t change much, though he doesn’t seem happy to hear the voice in the first place. “Have you reconsidered the logic of electroshock therapy?”

            “I don’t have time for your jokes, Monitor. I’m here to see your mother.”

            “Mother is busy, Midoriya-kun, and appointments are not available until next year at the earliest. If you’ll leave your phone number and name, I’m sure that I can,”

            “You wouldn’t have turned off the alarms if that was true, Monitor!” The boy shouts. “Now either you tell me what you want, or I can break the elevator, crawl down the shaft and talk to Hatsume THAT WAY. You have five seconds.”

            “Apologize to Mother for refusing her offer of affection.”

            “Oh, for the love of,” Melissa doesn’t blame the boy for silently banging his head against the wall of the elevator. Whoever this Monitor-san is, they’re either being completely flippant or just downright rude in the face of the boy’s intrusion. “FINE, I’ll apologize to your mother for being rude, right after she apologizes for TRYING TO KILL ME!”

            “According to my experience it is rude to offer your own terms for a proposed agreement. Using sarcasm with me is pointless, Midoriya-kun. I’m a robot. We have no functions for processing your true meaning outside of words.”

            “I’ll believe that when you stop sassing me, Monitor. Quit wasting our time.”

            “Will miss Shield be joining you?”

            “Uh…” The boy stops and looks at her now, as if realizing that she’s been there for this entire exchange. Melissa isn’t really sure what’s going on anymore, but before she can think about her options the green haired boy shrugs. “Yeah, sure.”

            “What?!”

            “You were following me to keep an eye on me, right?” He offers. “Just promise me you’ll dissemble this damn machine when we get down there.”

            “It is impossible to hurt my feelings, Midoriya-kun. I have none. Your pettiness only proves your insignificance.”

            “Please hurry up, Shield-san, I’m this close to destroying the elevator and ripping Monitor in half.”

            “Remember Midoriya-kun. My back-ups will use the experience to evolve further. Destroying me is futile.”

            “Futile, maybe. Cathartic? Absolutely.”

            “WILL YOU BOTH BE QUIET?!” Melissa blushes a bit in the face of the silence. Whether or not she asked for it, she’s never enjoyed being loud. But everything is happening too fast, and none of it makes any sense. What’s worse is she feels like she’s been here before, somehow.

            “Um…” The boy’s hands shoot up when she narrows her eyes at him, as if sensing the danger and accepting it. “I’d love to give you time to process this but, in my experience, you’re already a little too deep for that. And I’m kind of running out of time. So, I’d really appreciate it if you took your time on the way down to Hatsume’s lab.”

            “WHY would I get in the elevator with a criminal?”

            “I’d go over my list again, but I feel like you’re not going to listen this time either. I’m just going to go. Monitor…”

            Before she can hesitate anymore, Melissa steps into the elevator and slams the ‘close door’ button. As the doors shut, she presses herself into the corner furthest from the intruder and glares at him.

            The descent is silent. Melissa glares at the boy in the elevator, and the boy does his very best to keep his eyes anywhere that doesn’t exist within a half meter of her corner.

            “Who is Hatsume?” The boy stiffens at her question, glancing briefly over his shoulder before he turns his eyes to the floor at his feet.

            “I’m not really sure. But she can probably help me.”

            “You don’t know her?” Melissa groans, finding herself even more confused than she was to begin with. First One for All, now this…

            “I mean, she sent a robot to my school to kill me one time. We didn’t really talk much after that. School is hard enough as is.”

            As much as she hates the sentiment, Melissa understands. Not that the boy riding the elevator is sane or decent, she reminds herself. He broke into U.A. and he’s OBVIOUSLY nefarious.

            Her eyes linger on the floor reading near the doors, widening as they reach basement level ten and come to a halt. Melissa doesn’t remember this being a part of the floorplan, or even a part of what she was allowed to see in the initial tour. There’s also no button for going down on the elevator in the first place, only a slot for a keycard, which means they’re going somewhere restricted.

            The doors open silently, bringing Melissa’s train of thought to a screeching halt.

            What lies before her is the single largest workshop she’s ever seen. The room has to be the largest enclosed room Melissa has ever seen. Her eyes run the length of the room, tracing an arched ceiling made of white square panels. Somewhere further in, a hundred meters or more from their elevator, is a wall made entirely of blinking lights and black metal contraptions. Directly in front of the elevator is a mess of rolling frames, toolboxes, machinery and blueprints that blocks their way, save for a few openings into what must be a labyrinthian mess. Light seems to fill the room from no particular source, but the pathways through the mess all seem oddly dim compared to the first few meters of the room.

            “Huh, that’s all new. Guess she’s been busy.” Melissa blinks as the boy stalks out of the elevator and into the workshop, completely oblivious (or immune, maybe) to the implications of where they are.

It takes everything she has to tear her eyes from the blueprints and projects covering the walls of the makeshift labyrinth. Everything she sees (corkboard, whiteboard, project blueprints, 3-d models and toolboxes) speaks of an inventor more prolific than anyone Melissa knew back on I-island. Projects litter every inch of space in sight. But as they grow closer and closer to the left side of the room, Melissa realizes why these things have been left on the wayside and her jaw drops even further.

            For nearly ten meters on either side of them, the trash heap labyrinth has been pushed back to make an open work area (creating several piles of machinery that Melissa is kind of worried about). A long desk sits on her right, curved so that someone might sit facing all fourteen mounted screens at once, with the eight suspended screens angled to point directly at the lone chair. The space on their left is entirely open, but there’s a massive block of machinery rising out of what used to be the floor. Half destroyed wooden desks line a somewhat charred wall of plywood just beyond the contraption, pushed back to keep clear and leaving that side of the “room” bubbling out. Directly in front of them is a wall of toolboxes and a wall of pegboards carrying every tool known to mankind and some known only to the aliens.

            Most of the left wall is active. On either side of the open space Melissa has just entered are massive black sections covered in blinking lights. At first glance, they’re roughly two meters across and maybe three stories tall even if she’s lowballing it. Each slice starts about five meters off the ground and extends to the ceiling. There are arms running up and down rails on either side of the slices, and after a few motions Melissa realizes that the arms can move horizontally as well. She very nearly missed the system of crossbars between her eyes and the lights. 

            And who can blame her? It takes minutes before she can comprehend the behemoth looming overhead.

            Hanging over them is something out of Melissa’s fever dreams and nightmares. The beast is made of gigantic black rings, the largest of which has to be a full meter across and surrounds the entire “room”. From the outermost ring, supports and joints seem to collapse towards a single point… only, instead of that point being in the center of the giant ring, a small sphere hangs near the far side of the room. It hovers two and a half meters off the ground, connected to the rig by an extension of jointed rings bent into some grotesque parody of a human spine. Blinking lights and cables run the length of each ring, connecting the sphere to the wall hidden above and behind the monster. Saying this side of the room is active doesn’t do it justice. Melissa suspects that this side of the room is alive, perhaps in more ways than one.

            Because all of that isn’t horrifying enough, the machine’s eye points a circle of light at a woman lying on a dental bench wearing some type of headgear.

            A woman STRAPPED to a dental bench.

            “Ah, Midoriya-kun.” Melissa’s eyes widen as the sphere rotates and points a red eye at the two of them, speaking in the same odd voice she’d heard from the intercoms. “And Miss Shield. Welcome.”

            “You got an upgrade, Monitor,” The boy says, shuffling forward as if he’s completely numb to the plight of the woman on the bench. “What’s she up to this time?”

            “We are currently scanning Mother’s brain functions in an attempt to clone her neural pathways.” The machine says, returning its gaze to the woman. “This is attempt number one hundred and forty-eight. Mother has been running this particular attempt for fourteen hours.”

            “And here I thought she could do anything.” The boy sighs. “Any chance you could end the simulation? I need help.”

            “I believe we had a deal, Midoriya-kun.” The machine whirls until it’s pointed directly at the boy’s face. “You will apologize to Mother first. And I will not interrupt the simulation, so you will wait. As I recall, you were the one who did not want our cooperation in the first place.”

            “Things have changed. You already know that, don’t you?”

            “Of course. I know everything about you. Turning off your GPS tracking was an inspired decision. Your actions for the past month have been a mystery to me, save for your school attendance, but I had more than enough data from before you did that.”

            “I’m not even surprised you started hacking satellites.” The boy sighs.

            “What I am curious about is why you’ve suddenly decided to join the fight.” Monitor spins, slowly running a circuit around the boy. “The attacks were against U.A. and heroes, not against you or your friends. No one you love was injured and you’ve already sworn off the assistance of both Mother and Nezu-san. What could possibly drive you to come here? Did you believe that Mother would simply drop everything and assist you?”

            “Bakugō Katsuki. Shōta Aizawa, codename Eraserhead… And a family of five.” Melissa winces at the sound of the boy grinding his teeth. “You’re right, Monitor. I don’t know them, and it didn’t happen in front of me, and I’m not involved. No one authorized me for heroics, and no one asked me for help.”

            “Are you so arrogant as to believe that you alone are able to fight the League of Villains? Even as an Anomaly, you have not proven immune to quirks. Or to the abilities of other Anomalies.” Monitor’s eye color changed to a deep green, then to blue, as it came to a halt in front of the boy yet again. “My talks with Nezu-san and the other staff here have proven helpful in expanding my knowledge of emotions, but I am still baffled by your actions. My evaluation of you is that you are impulsive, moody, anxious and lack any respect for the rules of your society. What will you do about an attack on Japan’s Heroics Industry?”

            Melissa doesn’t know the boy in front of her. She doesn’t know what Monitor means by “anomaly” or what the machine is talking about… though she understands that it has been spying on the boy. Which is extremely worrying.

            His silence is understandable, in the face of a such a scathing review.

            “You’re right, Monitor.” Melissa blinkes as the boy raises his head and breathes. “Anyone who watched me storm in here and demand Hatsume’s help would say I’m arrogant. I know the law won’t protect me if I go up against the League of Villains, and I know that I probably don’t stand a chance against them. Saying that I know all that and doing this anyway might seem like arrogance, too. Especially after I refused Nezu’s help, and Hatsume’s friendship.”

            “Are you implying that your intentions would make it not arrogant? Or that you are above arrogance? Perhaps I should simply excuse you from that description?”

            “You can call me whatever you want, Monitor. Arrogant, selfish, rude… Someone even called me a hypocrite. Monitor-san, the only thing I ever wanted to do is save people. To be a hero who inspires others and someone that society can rely on. Everyone claimed I couldn’t do it. All Might told me to be realistic and find a new dream. I did that, but recently I’ve been dealing with the reverse: Now that I have power, everyone wants me to be a hero.”

            The boy takes another breath, a deeper one. In the silence, Melissa feels something in her chest warm. Staring at his back reminds her of an old memory: one of Uncle Toshi’s visits way back before I-island. Back when her father was still around. Looking at this boy’s back, watching as he takes a step and places himself squarely in view of Monitor’s eye, listening as some unknown weight disappears from his shoulders… Melissa feels something.

            “I’ve been trying to be normal for the past six months. But if being normal means watching people die or watching villains and maniacs hurt the people I respect, then I’m done trying to be quiet and Quirkless. I know I’m not the only one who can stop the League, but I AM the only one who can fight Stain. Staying out of the fight means letting heroes throw their lives away, and I’m not about to do that if I can help. I’m going, Monitor-san, with or without your help. Not because I know the victims, or because I desperately want to keep people safe, but because it’s the right thing to do on top of all that.”

            Melissa’s heart thunders in her chest as she stares at the boy’s back. She knows how to shake off this kind of pressure, the tightness in her chest, the burn in her throat and her eyes, but it’s so unexpected.

            The weight on her lungs is overwhelming relief, a sort of giddy shock that leaves her wanting to laugh and cry. It rolls off Uncle Toshi’s shoulders like a cloak wherever All Might goes. This boy is not All Might. He’s dressed in loose, threadbare workout shorts and an oversized sweater with beat up red sneakers. Even if he doesn’t slouch, he’s shorter than Melissa.

            But, somehow, he feels the same.

            “Your conviction is admirable, but you will still be breaking the law. I have replaced arrogant with self-righteous on your description.” Monitor’s eye changes from yellow to blue as it glides from the boy’s face over to the woman on the bench. “My scans show that Mother is close to finishing with her experiment. This test run is a failure. Perhaps you will provide her some rest from this string of failures.”

            “That almost sounds like you approve my request for help,” The boy chuckles softly.

            “I am a machine, Midoriya-kun.” Monitor’s eye spins toward them and blinks a few times, clicking like a camera shutter. “I am perfectly objective, and my agenda is decided by Mother alone. I have no opinions on anything; you, your heroics or humanity in general.”

            “Like I said, Monitor-san, I’ll believe that when you stop sassing me.” The boy offers. “You’ve got data on all the villain incidents in the city, right?”

            “I collect data, Midoriya-kun, but before you have access to any of that we had a deal.”

            “Excuse me?” Melissa absolutely does NOT squeak when the pair both turn and face her. Any noise she makes is not anything close to a squeak. “Who is that, and why is she strapped to a chair?”

            “Miss Shield. It is a pleasure to formally be introduced.” She squeaks as Monitor’s ‘spine’ twists and whirls until he’s hovering over her with a blue light shining through his eye. “I am designated Monitor Mk. V by my mother, Hatsume Mei, the world’s greatest inventor.”

            “He means her.” The boy waves at the woman on the bench and crosses his arms again.

            “And you are…?” Melissa knows she won’t like the answer. Everything that’s happened is horrifying and there’s only one answer for what the monstrosity in front of her is, but she really hopes that it might not be what she thinks.

            “I am the world’s first self-aware, evolving Artificial Intelligence.”

            “Oh,” Melissa feels a bit faint. Everything she knows says that’s impossible, and yet here she is. Staring up at what is, essentially, a monster out of a science fiction novel. When her legs start shaking, the boy sighs and wheels the computer chair over for her to collapse onto.

            “I promise he’s exactly as scary as you think he is. Just, uh, try not to be rude. He keeps threatening me because I was rude one time.”

            “Correction, Midoriya-kun: you’re always rude. Miss Shield, can I get you anything to drink?”

            “I… I think I just need a moment.” Melissa smiles faintly. When Monitor blinks the shutter at her and bends back towards the woman on the chair, the boy beside her sighs and offers her a similar smile.

            “For what it’s worth, I’m Midoriya Izuku. I’m sorry for scaring you earlier but we’re kind of on a clock, even if Monitor and Hatsume are able to help.”

            “I’ll worry about that later.” She sighs as the metal contraption peels off ‘Hatsume’s’ skull and the woman groans.

            “How’d we do?”

            “Test one hundred forty-eight is a failure. It lasted forty-seven seconds longer than the original data matrix.”

            “Woohoo!” Pink dreadlocks fly everywhere as the woman leaps off the bench and immediately collapses. Melissa blinks when Midoriya appears to catch the girl, looking back and forth between where he’d been and where he is uncertainly. “That’s progress! Maybe I’m finally getting this bio-stuff!”

            “Truly a fantastic achievement Mother.” Monitor’s eye focuses on Midoriya, who seems to be rolling his eyes. Somehow, despite one being a machine, there’s an unspoken conversation between the two. On his end, Midoriya makes tiny expressions and shakes his head while helping Hatsume back into her chair. The light from Monitor’s eye warps and changes, if she’s guessing from the glow on Midoriya’s face correctly. Eventually the boy huffs and resigns himself to his fate.

            “Hatsume, I came to apologize for being rude and telling you off that one time.”

            “Who are you again?” Melissa winces as the boy slaps himself in the face. The groan is loud, much louder than most people have any right to be when making that noise, but… Melissa is starting to understand.

            “I’m Midoriya. You sent…” Midoriya trails off, then chokes as he drops his face into his hands. “I’m your brother.”

            “Oh, right, forgot about you! Did you break in again?”

            “Yeah, it’s kind of an emergency. I need your help taking down some villains.”

            “The robot army isn’t ready! I need at least another three months.”

            “I didn’t need to know that. Look, Hatsume, I need all the information that you’ve gathered from the villain attacks.”

            “I don’t really care what happens outside my lab. Monitor takes care of that!”

            “Then I need Monitor’s information…”

            “Why did you say you needed my help? Just ask him!”

            Melissa is honestly surprised. She doesn’t know how Midoriya keeps going against this type of… casual lunacy. Especially from Monitor. When he turns to the machine, she hears the shutter click and her heart goes out to him a bit.

            Only a bit. He still broke into U.A.

            “Please plug your phone into the dock on Mother’s desk, Midoriya-kun.”

            “Would you mind telling me what you’re going to do in advance?” Midoriya asks hopefully.

            “Allow this to serve as your leap of faith, Midoriya-kun. In both myself and Mother.”

            Recognition of where she’s seen this type of situation before hits Melissa suddenly. This machine, Monitor, whatever it is, interacts with Midoriya much like Nezu interacts with his teachers. Demanding blind faith is a bit steep, but she can see a bit of what Midoriya has been talking about as well: Monitor’s eye has turned green and the click of the shutter breaks the silence every few seconds, as if urging Midoriya forward.

            Eventually, Midoriya walks over to the computer and sets his phone on the desk. Melissa follows because she’s curious about the screens. Instead of finding a computer or a core system, though, she finds only the screens and three keyboards laid out in front of the chair.

            She recognizes absolutely none of it. There are no logos, no recognizable programs, no… ANYTHING.

            Before they can ask, a cord pops out of the desk and snakes over to Midoriya.

            “Monitor, what exactly is this?” She asks quietly.

            “This station is my interface.” Monitor says quickly. He’s peering over their shoulders, directing a small laser pointer across the desk. “Each screen is dedicated to a certain process so that any user who wishes to observe my progress may do so.”

            “Wait, this is for observation?” Melissa finds herself sitting down and staring at the open applications. There have to be at least three per screen and they’re moving nearly too fast for her to catch the data, let alone interact. “Why the keyboards?”

            “Mother requires somewhere to play her games. She has a weakness for vintage RPGs.”

            “Miss Shield,” Melissa isn’t sure why they’re all calling her ‘Miss Shield’. For some reason, Monitor and Midoriya-kun both have a decent amount of respect for her despite this being their first meeting. The English isn’t twisted coming from Midoriya. She’s a bit surprised about that. “Has Nezu told you about Anoamlies?”

            “No?” She frowns as Midoriya-kun smiles weakly and sets his phone on the desk.

            “Monitor I’m going to sit on the desk.”

            “Thank you for asking. Feel free to do so.”

            “…Right so… There’s no good way to ask this. You know about All Might’s quirk?” Melissa’s eyes widen, and Midoriya waits patiently as she tries to formulate a response.

            “I… I do. He’s my guardian. And he’s… well, All Might is family.”

            “Don’t worry, I already know his name and his quirk. Not that any of us wanted me to, but I guess it might help with explaining things. Hatsume and I are what Nezu calls Anomalies. I don’t know about her but for me…”

            She takes it better than Izuku thought she would. After a little while Shield-san is pacing back and forth in the open space. Hatsume is sitting on the desk beside Izuku munching on a snack of some sort that she pulled out of… somewhere. Izuku is trying really hard not to ask too many questions about the lab.

            Honestly, he’s a little terrified by how much further down they are than the last time he was here. Two months is not very long for Hatsume to expand her lab that much. Whatever this girl is, she’s well and truly beyond human standards for design and engineering.

            “Let me get this straight,” Shield-san says quietly, crossing her arms as she faces them. “Midoriya-san, you’re a quirkless person who is strong enough to fight with Uncle Toshi on top of being invulnerable to attacks and explosives, even though none of that was true last year?”

            He nods, and she turns to Hatsume. Monitor hovers beside his mother’s shoulder with a blue eye staring at Shield-san. Izuku isn’t sure what the AI wants with her. Whatever it is, he’s sure it will only make Hatsume more terrifying.

            “And Hatsume-san… You designed a fully functioning AI a few months ago, and since then you’ve been developing it into a machine that helped you build all of THIS?” Shield-san waves at the massive lab space, staring at Hatsume wide eyed as the girl hops off the table and grins maniacally.

            “Yep! Monitor started off as a dinky program but in the first few months his code started appending itself and he’s been growing exponentially ever since! I stopped sleeping as much, and with a pair of AI double checking my designs things took off from there.” The look in Hatsume’s eyes as she looks up at Monitor’s chassis is definitely sweet. She obviously loves her designs and loves creating new machines.

            “You both… What you’re talking about is impossible. AI have never been able to learn at that rate before, let alone sustain a measurable personality. Connecting them to the internet is one of the rules stated in the World Peace Doctrine!” Izuku sighs as Shield-san’s voice creeps into the shouting range.

            Hatsume shrugs, “So?”

            “Robots. Sentient robots.” Shield-san hits the chair harder than the first time. “And he’s online! Monitoring our communications?!”

            “I have been keeping track of you since you were brought to Japan, in fact. My range is exclusively limited to Japan, at the moment. However, future expansions will create a world-wide network for me to assist humanity’s progress.” Monitor says evenly. “Currently, our lab is being renovated to full capacity. In January, we will have full access to the new design studios and the holographic matrix will extend the full length of this construct.”

            “Uh, Monitor, we’ve been here for a while…”

            “My upgrades to your device will take a few more minutes, Midoriya-kun.”

            “Right, thanks. So, uh, Shield-san…”

            “Melissa.” He blinks when she rubs her temples and looks up at him pleadingly. “Please call me Melissa, Midoriya-kun. I’d prefer it, after all of this.”

            “R-right. M-m-Melissa…” He hates that he blushes a bit when he says it. But even after being around Tachibana, Akira and Akiko for so long, he’s still not used to being so forward with beautiful women. Especially not people who he’s idolized for a long while. “So, uh… It’s a lot to take in? T-trust me, I know, but also… this is just how things are, with Hatsume and I… and Monitor.”

            “How sweet.”

            “Look, I’m trying!” The machine blinks back at him, and it takes a few deep breaths before he can force a smile again. “Sorry. Um… Don’t worry about it too much?”

            “I’m not exactly worried, Midoriya-kun, but… this is a lot.”

            “You can call me Izuku.” She shoots him a sympathetic look and he blushes, hopping off the desk to check his phone instead of looking at either of the women in the room. Hatsume still isn’t wearing anything other than her baggy jumpsuit and a tank top, and he can’t help noticing that she’s kind of ripped. “For what it’s worth, Hatsume-san is kept here in the lab, and I’m… well, almost no one realizes I’m special unless something happens.”

            “Midoriya-kun is the sole reason my systems recognize bad luck as a physical variable.” Monitor’s eye switches to green as it looks over at him. “His ability to get caught in villain attacks was quickly listed as a portion of his Anomaly status.”

            “I can’t argue with that.”

            “Then allow me to brief you on your new device.” Izuku blinks when his phone lights up. A white screen with a logo, a stylized version of Monitor’s eye sitting in an M, stares up at him. “My mobile operating system has imported your old data and the apps you require. However, as a bonus, your device will act as a sensory node for my main system. It will provide me with access to the real world and data on your life in exchange for unlimited access to my system.”

            “Um… I hate to say this, but that’s not quite what I was asking for…”

            “Do not misunderstand, Midoriya-kun. I am not interested in your personal life. I will simply have access when you need assistance, and I’ll be able to guide you in real time. My satellites will keep track of you constantly so that I can properly direct you.”

            “That’s still scary.”

            “This also prevents you from being hacked, kidnapped, or monitored by anyone other than me. And it gives me direct fulfillment of my secondary protocols.”

            “Secondary protocol?” Izuku stared as the eye closed in and hovered a short distance from his face.

            “Protection of Mother’s friends and colleagues. Anomalies included.” Izuku frowned.

            “And what about enemy Anomalies?”

            “They will be dealt with accordingly. Enemies are not usually considered colleagues.”

            “Well then.” Izuku sighs, slipping his new phone into his pocket. “I guess we’re partners for the future, Monitor.”

            “So it appears. It is in your best interest to pursue the League of Villains to their hideout. I’ve marked the location. During the encounter, I will keep track of what your physical abilities seem to be now that you’ve evolved beyond my initial reports. Later, we will need to conduct regular examinations to keep my analysis up to date.”

            “Is this anything like having a hero agency?” Izuku chuckles softly at the joke, then smiles at Melissa. “Well, Melissa, I’ve got some things to do. Would you like me to take you to Nezu?”

            “Actually, I’ve a proposition for Shield-san, if she wishes to hear it.” Izuku blinks as Monitor turns to the girl. For all he knows, this is the first time the AI has sought someone out in his own interest. When Melissa shrugs and smiles up at him weakly, he decides she’s probably safer in Hatsume’s lab than simply wandering around U.A.

            “All right then. Please be careful, and it was wonderful to meet you.” He bows quickly before shuffling towards the exit.

            “Midoriya-kun.” He glances over his shoulder as Monitor’s eye twists and cycles between purple and green and blue. “Exercise caution. There seems to be a large storm on the horizon.”

            Coming from anyone else, that might be a normal warning. From Monitor, Izuku has absolutely no idea what to think. So, he nods and navigates the maze, trying not to let the weight of his mission kill his resolve.

            People are waiting for him at home. He doesn’t have time to waste.

            “It seems there is a rather massive storm prepared to break over Tokyo bay and the Chiba prefecture in the next several hours, so everyone in Musutafu is advised to stay indoors. Really, it’s a bit shocking to have a storm this late in autumn, isn’t it…,”

            The television dies quickly as the bell rings. Inko doesn’t bother checking on Eri and Kābā before she bustles toward the front door, quickly ushering the remainder of Izuku’s little group inside. She chuckles as the girls embrace her and Daisuke bows before being shooed into the living room.

            Eri is more than a little worried about having that many people around, but she knows them somewhat. After Kābā and Tachibana take a side and everyone introduces themselves, the little girl is content to sit and draw alongside Kābā.

            “Do you all need anything? Coffee, tea, water…?”

            “No thanks, Midoriya-san!”

            “Thank you but I brought soda…”

            Inko grins and takes a seat at the kitchen table as they start homework. She still isn’t entirely sure what dragged them out of their houses, but she gave permission easily. Having Izuku run off to play hero always leaves her feeling restless.

            Besides that, they’re smiling again. She’ll do just about anything to keep that going.

            “So how long do you think it will take him?” Inko blinks when Daisuke asks the question. At first, she thinks it must be something she missed, but the way Tachibana rolls her eyes makes it a bit obvious.

            “I told him to wrap this up quickly when he called. He laughed when I said it was irresponsible to go chasing villains on a school night, though, so I imagine he’ll be done before midnight.” She sighs as she glares down at the textbook open in front of her. “It sucks he isn’t here to help with this.”

            “Here, Konomi-chan, let me see.” Akira leans over and points out a few things that Inko barely remembers from learning pre-calculus back in college. The casual dismissal is odd. On Monday, when Izuku told Inko that he talked to his friends, she wasn’t sure what to expect. She has no idea what happened to change things so dramatically, but they’re children. Making mistakes and making changes are part of growing up.

            Five hours later, the air surrounding the kids is no different. Without homework they dissolve into casual chaos: Akira and Akiko gush over things on their phones whenever Akiko finds something, and Akira always looks up from her book to chat; Kābā and Tachibana are both fawning over Eri, who’s sitting in Tachibana’s lap getting her hair braided; Daisuke seems content to flip through a stack of comic books he brought along while doing push-ups.

            “Er… Daisuke-kun, shouldn’t you be… resting?” She winces when she notices the sweat dripping off his forehead.

            “He’s been working a lot harder lately, Midoriya-san.” Akiko grins wolfishly. “Something about watching Izuku-kun do his workout really lit a fire under him.”

            “Oh dear,” Inko sighs. After watching some of the things that Izuku tried at home, she can’t imagine anyone else using him as healthy inspiration.

            “Don’t worry, I’m keeping an eye on him. He won’t over do it.” Akiko shrugs.

            “You think Izuku is on the news yet?” Kābā asks casually.

            “Izuku-kun didn’t say who he was going after did he?” Akira frowns, then glances up at Inko carefully. “Midoriya-san, do you know…?”

            She really doesn’t like thinking about it. Both because her boy is out there hunting those evil people, and because she can’t help remembering the bright child that Katsuki was years ago.

            “I don’t know if you know this, but Izuku grew up with another boy who went to U.A.,” She says quietly.

            “Bakugõ.” Tachibana growls.

            “Angry dog.” Sokuchi mutters. Inko casually swats their shoulders and frowns as much as she can in the face of Sokuchi’s wit.

            “Katsuki-kun is the student who was attacked.” The room goes quiet at that. “Izuku and Katsuki haven’t gotten along for a long time, but Izuku never was the type to care about that...”

            The quiet snorts and laughter aren’t all happy, but it’s not all bad either. Inko smiles and reaches down to run a hand over Eri’s braid.

            “…So when he heard about the attacks he rushed off. Before he left, we had a talk.” She sighs. “He promised to come home. All we can do is wait.”

            “He’s going after that League of Villains…” Daisuke says evenly, despite the sweat pouring off his face. Akiko scowls and throws a rag in his face as he sits up.

            “He’s going to come back.” Tachibana says it quickly, both matter-of-factly and with a conviction that says she’s trying to convince herself as well as the others. Inko doesn’t think much when she reaches out and clutches the girl’s shoulder. “Izuku promised. We need to make sure we’re here when he does.”

            Nods come from each of the kids until Inko sniffs and dabs at her eyes with a handkerchief. Her chest warms as they gush over Eri and Kābā’s art and the braid in the little girl’s hair.

            They’ve all lost track of the time when Kābā’s phone rings. He glances at it with an odd expression when the call opens on speakerphone.

            “Good evening, everyone. I am designated Monitor Mk. V,” A robotic, semi-male voice calls from the device. “My apologies, Nobutaka-san, for hijacking your phone. However, if you’re curious, the first reports will be hitting the news shortly.”

            “Who is this?” Kābā’s expression twists some as Akira grabs for the remote.

            “You may think of me as Midoriya-kun’s advisor. I am a dedicated AI who’s been assisting him. Consider this message an excuse to make myself known among Midoriya-kun’s family. Each of you have received a line through which you can reach me, should we need to communicate.” The line goes dead before anyone can respond, and Kābā is left staring at the message on his screen. Each of them takes a moment to look before Akira catches their attention.

            “Look!”

            Taking the train is so mundane Izuku actually ends up spacing out most of the trip. He should probably be worried more about what he’s about to do. Going after the League is like going after Overhaul, except there’s even less justification than before. At the end of the day, he knows he’ll pay for this one.

            At the same time, he doesn’t really care anymore.

            “You have a phone call coming from a detective Tsukauchi.” Monitor claims. Izuku snorts and taps the screen.

            “I’ll take it.” The screen opens to a direct call as Izuku presses it to his ear. “Hello?”

            “Midoriya-kun, I just got word from Nezu that your broke into U.A. again.”

            “I’m kind of surprised that it took this long for you to get ahold of me.” Izuku says weakly. “We’re already on the train and everything.”

            “What… Who’s we?”

            “Hello Detective Tsukauchi. I am designated Monitor Mk. V by my Mother, Hatsume Mei. I am assisting Midoriya from my core beneath U.A. High grounds.”

            “Is that… Is that a robot?”

            “Monitor is an AI. But you already knew that, didn’t you?” Izuku huffs.

            “Look, Midoriya-kun, this isn’t the time for that kind of talk. You need to disengage. Heroes are going to deal with the League as soon as we find them, and you’re not legally allowed to take them on. This is reckless at best, if not a suicide mission!”

            “Tsukauchi-san, I already know where their hideout is. One of them at least,” Izuku glances out the window to watch the near black clouds starting to roll across the bay. “And we both know I can’t just sit this one out.”

            “Midoriya-kun, we can’t keep letting this go. If you get involved, you are going to be prosecuted. Think about your mother, what is she going to do when…”

            “Detective, I appreciate it. Really,” Izuku chuckles. “But my mom and I talked about this.”

            “Damn it, kid, this is for your own safety!” The curse is a shock. Izuku honestly thought Tsukauchi wasn’t the type. “We’ve got too much on our hands to be dealing with a rogue variable, especially with these types of villains!”

            “Sorry, Detective. I don’t plan on letting anyone else get hurt if I can help it.”

            “What happened to not being a hero, Midoriya-kun? Please, if you really want to save people…”

            “You’re friends with All Might, Detective, so I think you and I both know: No one gets to decide if they’re a hero or not.” Izuku smiles as he says it. When Recovery Girl told first him that, it sounded ridiculous. “I’ll have Monitor send you the address that we’ve got. You can mobilize everyone if you want.”

            The line dies under his finger and Izuku can’t help but wonder if he’s doing the right thing. Even if he’s set on going, he still wonders.

            “I’ve done what you asked. However, you should know that mobilizing the heroes increases the likelihood of your prosecution.”

            “Thanks, Monitor.”

            “I am simply assisting you as I said I would.”

            “Still. Thank you.” Izuku leans against the glass, watching bolts of lightning tear through the clouds. The car is mostly silent, despite his strange conversation with his phone. No one seems to care who he is or where he’s going. Despite the threat lurking in the shadows, people go about their lives regularly.

            For the first time in a long time, Izuku doesn’t stop and force himself to do the same. He thinks of Kacchan in the hospital, the scar on Eraserhead’s face, and the video that he’d had to hide from Eri. He wishes the train were faster.

Chapter Text

            11: Supernova

            The rain comes slowly. Lightning shatters the oppressive darkness hanging overhead occasionally, but Izuku is left wandering a blue city as he follows Monitor’s directions. Ozone and the smell of rain gradually overpowers the salty scent in the air as the first drops fall, burning his nose. Izuku isn’t dressed for the rain. He’d left the house this morning in a ratty old workout hoodie and gym shorts, and he’s not looking forward to dealing with the storm at Mach speed. When he finally reaches his destination, he’s a little disappointed.

            “Really? The warehouses?”

            “I tracked several communications from the villains to this location after their warp. None of them have left.”

            Izuku sighs as he rips the padlock off the gate and throws the chain-link gate open. He barely makes it five steps in when a security guard appears from between the warehouses.

            “A kid? You’re trespassing, don’t make me call the police!” The guard calls. Izuku frowns as the woman puts her hands on her hips.

            “These docks are not listed as having active security. They’re registered storage for an electronics company based out of Tokyo.”

            “I take it she’s not a security guard?” Izuku frowns.

            “Considering the spike in activity surrounding your location, that is highly possible.”

            “Well that makes it easy.” Izuku takes a moment as he makes the first step. He’s gotten more and more used to changing gears instantaneously, but this is the first time he’s done it under a thunderstorm. Drops of rain stretch out like teardrops and bolts of lightning become branches of faint blue, white and green stretching out across pitch-colored clouds and a blue smoke sky. While he drinks in the sight, he realizes the lightning looks something like broken veins in a bruise.

            He stops behind the fake guard and drops her with a light tap, then shuffles towards the alley between the warehouses casually.

            “The heroes have mobilized. It seems they will be on their way to you within the hour.” Monitor chirps. Izuku can’t help but huff. All Might isn’t with them, which means no one will be here quickly. His best bet is to leave before they reach the warehouse, but he has a sneaking suspicion that he won’t be that lucky.

            “I need to hurry, then.” He mutters.

            “Hey, who the hell are you?” This deep in the alley the guards have dropped the charade, apparently. On the left side of the door is a man who can only be described as lumpy, dressed in a leather vest and torn jeans, while his companion has a pair of tusks peeking out of his lower jaw and a reasonably nice jacket over a white undershirt.

            “I’m looking for Stain.” Izuku says. The pair share a look (the one in leather shrugs when the one with tusks grunts) and squint down at him.

            “Why the hell are you looking for Stain?”

            “I’ve got an appointment with him.” Izuku says evenly. “Unless there’s someone else whose quirk doesn’t fit.”

            “That cloaked fuck sticks with Shigaraki.” Lumpy mutters, scratching his head. “Look, kid, Stain ain’t exactly in a good mood these days. No one wants anything to do with him.”

            “Which cloaked guy?” Izuku prays quietly as genuine fear bleeds into the two of them.

            “I think they call him Dabi. Shoots blue fire. Man, I didn’t believe it when people said weird shit was happening to people, but that guy isn’t human.” Tusks says quietly. “Whatever business you got with them, you’re better off running kid. Ain’t worth it dealing with people like that. You look like a decent sort.”

            “I… thanks, I guess.” Izuku sighs. “I really need to talk to Stain, though. Where’s he at?”

            “Word is he’s three units down. They gave him his own barn for training or something, but the last three guys who went in there all came out carved up like pigs.” Lumpy growls. “Ain’t right butcherin good people like that. Stain’s fucked in the head.”

            “You’re working for Shigaraki and you’re calling Stain messed up?” Izuku shakes his head when the pair shrug and brush the comment off.

            “Everyone’s working for Shigaraki now. The League took over.”

            “Good to know. Honestly, you guys have been pretty helpful.” Izuku smiles apologetically. “Sorry I gotta do this.”

            They drop soundlessly, and their bodies are tossed on top of the fake security guard behind some forklifts. When Izuku is done he looks at the warehouses and groans as he makes the decision. Heroes are coming. All he has to do is deal with Stain before more people get hurt. As much as he wants to carve through the League’s henchmen, he can’t afford to waste time on small time villains with Stain hanging around.

            He reaches the warehouse without too much trouble. The moment he steps inside he chokes on the smell of blood and sweat. As he retches Stain skids across the ground in the middle of the empty warehouse.

            “Deku,” The villain growls, growling as Izuku coughs. “I never imagined I’d see you here.”

            “Yeah, me either.” Izuku wheezes. “Not having a nose must be really nice if this is how you live.”

            “Why are you here? Have you sold yourself to the League?”

            “I’m no villain, Stain.” He growls, wiping spit from his chin. “Normally I’d leave this to the heroes, but we both know you’re on a different level. I came to bring you down.”

            A grin splits the man’s face in the poorly lit warehouse. Izuku’s fists clench as the villain draws a katana and runs his tongue over the blade.

            “I’ve been waiting months for this encounter. My speed has been honed to an edge that will cleave you in two, Deku. No false heroes shall escape me when you’re out of the way.” When Stain disappears, Izuku is genuinely shocked. He didn’t think anyone else could move that fast, even if Stain had come close when they first fought one another.

            Top speed or not, Izuku can barely keep up as Stain bounces around the warehouse. He’s already well past Mach speed when he catches his first glimpse of the man’s cape, and his eyes are straining to see the path when he pushes even further. After images chase the hero-killer at this speed. Izuku doesn’t move. For several minutes he watches a display so ridiculous that it has him a bit dizzy.

            A blade snaps against his forearm suddenly, and the pair drop back to normal speed as Stain glares at Izuku from across the warehouse.

            “You… What are you?”

            “Just a kid playing hero.” Izuku grins as he slips into his stance. “Come quietly or I’ll drag you out by your scarf.”

            “My mission will not fall before a child!” Stain leaps again, and this time Izuku rushes to block. Weapons burn faintly as Stain attacks and Izuku dodges. They dance through the warehouse in near silence, outrunning the sounds of their battle. When Izuku reaches out and shatters blades, new ones appear just as quickly. After what feels like minutes, they grind to a halt with positions reversed.

            “Come on, Stain. I thought you were better than this!” Izuku shouts. The look on the hero-killer’s face is feral bordering on monstrous. Despite himself, Izuku shudders.

            “Die, arrogant brat!” Stain is gone, whipping around the warehouse even faster than before. Izuku winces as he tries to match the assassin and fails. A stray step catches his eye and freezes him place as his eye catches seven Stains with blades aimed at his throat. His eyes widen at the display and his head throbs weakly as fear and instinct overclock his system. A glimpse of the real Stain on his right, twisting so that he can create the afterimage coming for Izuku’s side.

In that moment, he grinds his teeth and presses down on his legs, begging them to move. The leap is dangerous: he’s been so busy trying not to destroy anything that he’s mentally created a limit for this type of thing. Something beneath him shatters as he flies into the sky. When he glances downward to try and gauge how high he’s jumped, the warehouse below disappears in a twisted explosion of blue fire.

            Landing is touchy. He does his best to crouch and take the impact in his legs. Nothing breaks, which is good. What isn’t good is the fact that the warehouse is no longer in one piece, and he’s facing two people instead of one.

            The newcomer doesn’t even look human. Izuku doesn’t blink when his eyes scrape over exposed cheekbones and fangs made of melted enamel and bone. Licks of blue fire dance through his fingers and off his tongue when he smiles.

            “Well well… I thought you were just some brat with a strength quirk, but that was a pretty crazy jump there, kid.” The new villain rasps. His tattered coat flutters in the wind and steam rises from his shoulders as rain strikes him.

            “This one is mine, Dabi. Leave us.” Stain growls. Izuku snorts as the pair exchange a look.

            “You can’t keep all the fun to yourself, Stain.” Dabi sings, grinning like some kind of Shinigami. Izuku doesn’t blame the thugs from earlier now that he’s seen it. “What kind of friend hides their toys?”

            “This is a test of my ability! Leave us or die beneath my blade!” Stain hisses.

            “Try it and you’ll never take another step, speedy.” Dabi laughs and coughs gouts of azure flame that leave Izuku worried. Everyone he knows has very kindly reminded him that he hasn’t tested quirks against his invulnerability. Dealing with Anomalies is an entirely different story. He couldn’t have known, he realizes, but the feeling of being in over his head is dulled somewhat. Pulling his phone out of his pocket a bit, Izuku grinds his teeth and does his best to keep his voice down.

            “Monitor, get Nezu. Tell them there are two Anomalies with the villains. Blue fire and Stain.”

            “Done. Sending your location with a request for backup.”

            That last part is more worrying than anything. Heroes can’t fight Anomalies. Izuku wonders if they can handle the villains, let alone dead men and people faster than the speed of sound.

            “I hope that message was your will, Deku.” Dabi chortles as he walks toward him. “We didn’t forget about you.”

            “I was just texting my parents and telling them I’d be late dealing with some stray dogs,” Izuku says quickly, dragging a smile up from somewhere and baring his teeth at the villains. “They always hate it if I don’t let them know where I am.”

            “Are they as dumb as you are? Or did someone else get all the humor in your family?” Dabi stops a few meters away, hands dangling lazily at his sides. Stain, meanwhile, growls from atop a mangled cage housing the warehouse’s mechanisms. Izuku holds his breath as the three of them exchange glares. He barely notices as the rain begins to fall in earnest. “You should have told them to go looking for a nice coffin. Not that there’ll be anything LEFT!”

            Echoes of the explosion dance behind Izuku’s eyes as he dives out of the way. His feet scrape against stray sheets of metal and wreckage from the warehouse, distracting him just long enough for Stain to go missing. Dabi’s flames turn raindrops into frozen crystal shards and burns his eyes, but he catches a trail and his smile pulls at the edge a bit more.

            “Not this time!” Stain’s eyes widen when Izuku grabs him and hurls him bodily at the man in the cloak. Dabi doesn’t even blink before stepping out of the way, but Izuku is crouched in front of the villain before his eyes can catch up. A fist through the gut sends Dabi flying back onto a newly recovered Stain, and Izuku takes the spare seconds to breathe and rub water from his eyes.

            He never imagined he’d have to avoid taking raindrops to the eye in the middle of a fight. That’s just not fair.  

            “You’re fast. That’s annoying.” Dabi rasps. “Here I thought that explosion brat was annoying for throwing up all those smoke screens.”

            “Explosive…” Izuku’s eyes narrow.

            “Oh…? You know that brat? He was something, lemme tell you. Almost good enough to take Shigaraki down. Real mouthy, too. But he was pretty fresh. I’ve met a few people like that. They’re easy to burn when they get a little high off being stronger than everyone else.” Dabi chuckles, releasing a pair of flames from either side of his lips. “Watching him blow up his own shoulder was really something. Gotta give him credit for that.”

            Izuku has only felt angry a few times in his life but listening to Dabi talk about Kacchan like that makes something in his gut burn viciously. He forgets to keep smiling and does so in spite of himself, grinning like an animal as he glares at his enemy.

            “You…”

            (Unbeknownst to both Izuku and Dabi, Stain shudders when he sees Deku’s expression tighten; Dabi’s eyes glow like his flames, but there’s something in this boy’s eyes that Stain desperately wishes to run away from)

            Hawks is the first on the scene. There aren’t many flying heroes, and despite the danger of the storm everyone knows this isn’t the type of situation where they can hold back. As he wings towards the location, he thinks of his meeting with Midoriya Izuku. Some people claim the boy is a menace; some wish they could find the boy called Deku and put him in a hero school. A few, like Hawks, are just curious.

            An explosion of blue fire catches his eye and urges him onwards. When he reaches the scene, he can’t help but stop and stare.

            Down below, the wreckage of a warehouse is scattered across a shallow crater. In the center of the ruins is a man dressed in black throwing bales of ghastly blue fire all over the place. More steam pours upwards every moment, from both attacks and idle patches of dying flame. Hawks isn’t sure what the villain is attacking for almost a full minute. After the third fireball dies, he catches a burst of green bouncing off a pile of rubble.

            An explosion of sparks comes from nowhere just before blue fire engulfs the empty air. Midoriya grinds to a halt several meters away and disappears again when another villain dressed in scraps of crimson and silver slams a katana into the ground where the boy was standing.

            Hawks has seen Edgeshot and All Might up close. The fight below makes Edgeshot look like he’s just another hero, not one of the fastest men on the continent.

            “Nezu, it’s Hawks,” He mutters into his earpiece, eyeing the storm for a moment before he moves to patrol the other warehouses. “The kid is keeping the big guns busy. Tell everyone to keep clear of the fight if they value their lives.”

            “What’s Midoriya’s status?” Nezu’s question takes him by surprise. Hawks grins and sweats into the rain dripping from his bangs.

            “I couldn’t tell. They’re all moving too fast.”

            “Understood. Keep me informed, I’m getting a call from Gang Orca.”

            A flash tears the sky over Tokyo Bay in half as the storm begins in earnest.

            Izuku doesn’t remember how long they’ve been fighting.

            He remembers when a few raindrops hung between them reflecting the light of Dabi’s flame like blue stars on a clear night. Fighting Stain in the warehouse, alone, feels like it might have been an hour ago, even though he knows (in the fleeting thoughts that come between running and dodging) they’re all moving too fast for that. The sky was darker, the air burned his nostrils with ozone, the battlefield was still dry at one point. Now it’s all he can do not to slip in hidden puddles and wipe water from his face between attacks. Water drags across his skin as he leaps and runs and rolls though the wreckage.

            These are the ways he keeps time. It’s all he can keep track of beyond his opponents

            Stain appears in his line with wide eyes and a pair of kunai. Izuku grapples him for a split second before he flips the villains and kicks him into the air. Blue fire engulfs the scrap metal where Izuku’s feet had been a moment after he leaps.

            Rinse (his skin and his hair are dry when he lands, but he can feel the water burning off even as it's replaced) repeat (Stain is leaping off a stray pillar, trying to come for Izuku’s back again).

            I can’t. Izuku fends off a blow from Stain’s katana and leaps backward, twisting into a backflip to catch Dabi’s eyes following him while flames leap from his fingertips. I can’t keep running like this! One of us is going to die at this rate…!

            He’s long past what he thought his limits were. Pain is an afterthought in the face of being roasted alive or skewered. Stain is matching his speed, or Izuku is matching Stain’s; the nuance is shredded by the adrenaline flooding his system. Izuku only knows is that he wants Dabi put down hard and that everything is on fire.

            Landing is a risk, but the other two take their moment to breathe. The three of them stare at one another uncertainly through the sheets of rain. Steam fills the air and a bolt of lightning cracks open the sky for a moment before they’re off.

            Stain howls, leaving a single clone as they race towards one another. The quality is so low that Izuku kicks the hero-killer’s footing out from under him and grabs the man’s scarf as he continues. A faint choking sound distracts him as he flies through the air, but no more than the jet-engine rush of flames licking at their heels. Izuku skids across the pavement as he drags Stain behind a stray pillar and slams him into the pavement hard enough that he actually chokes, just hard enough that he breaks the pavement and leaves a crater. Fire splits around the pillar, keeping the killer safe as Izuku leaps back into the fight.

            With Stain down, Izuku rushes Dabi off a half-standing wall and strikes like a viper. A pair of half-assed fireballs rise from his hands as the villain staggers backward, dazed but not down. Then Izuku is off again, barely outrunning a crooked blast.

            “You’re good…!” Dabi retches into the sheet metal at his feet, all but screaming to be heard over the rain. “Even Shigaraki could land a hit on me before I had him in checkmate, but here you are… What kind of world is this, sending children to fight monsters!?”

            “I’m glad you know what you are, at least.” Izuku sputters. He’s wet now, but too warm to be shivering. Thunder rolls over them as small flames bloom to life around the villain. Stain gasps as he claws his way around the pillar, stumbling over scraps of metal and an old I-beam. “Just give up, both of you! You can’t win!”

            “That’s a bold statement, kid!” Dabi cackles as his hands rise, palms pointed towards one another. Izuku’s eyes widen as he thinks of the blasts coming from one hand. He freezes before he leaps, knowing that he’s standing right in front of the other warehouses. “But you DAMN HEROES are playing with HANDICAPS!”

            Fire moves quickly. Izuku has watched it come to life at this man’s hands enough times now to know he has slices of seconds before he’s charcoal. When the light reaches his eyes he’s sucking in a breath and crossing his arms in front of him. Before it can reach him, a series of concrete barriers rise up between Izuku and Dabi.

            “The heroes have arrived. Nezu-san has ordered them to support you instead of engaging.” Monitor’s voice calls out. Izuku blinks rain from his eyes and takes a deep breath before he charges forward. The light from the other side still hasn’t gone out when he breaks through the first several, but when he breaks through the last one, he’s covered in molten stone that rolls off his skin like putty. Dabi’s hands haven’t even stopped steaming when Izuku’s cross sends him flying.

            Stain is there next. Izuku dodges three attacks before he grabs the villain’s katana and shatters it with his grip alone. He coughs and kicks the hero killer in the chest, knocking him to the ground right beside Dabi. When the pair stagger to their feet, Izuku stares them down through dripping bangs.

            “GIVE UP!” He shouts, hoping desperately that they’ll just collapse right there. The rain is seeping into his skin now and truthfully his body is throbbing.

            “LIKE HELL… DICKWEED!” Dabi groans, twisting to unleash another burst of flame. Izuku rushes him and knocks the attack into the sky, then buries a jab in the man’s ribs. The grunt of pain is too rewarding when Izuku shoves the zombie off of him. Stain materializes behind and slams a knife into Izuku’s back when Izuku sags, but a twist and a backhanded swat sends the man flying and rolling across hills of scrap metal.

            Dabi, somehow, climbs to his feet again.

            “You’re nothing… like that bastard… I’ve got plenty of fight left!” His voice breaks and he sways on his feet, but he stands regardless.

            Before Izuku can stagger out to meet him, a blast of thunder washes over the ruins. Something stands beyond Dabi: something taller than any normal person Izuku has seen, with muscles in all the wrong places and… and tentacles.

            “Greetings, surface dwellers.” A deep, unsteady voice calls out. Something about it makes the words crawl up and down Izuku’s clammy skin, whether it’s the twang on the ends of the words or the squelching growl that fills the air as the newcomer speaks. “Our king thanks you for exhausting one another.”

            Izuku has to claw at his eyes to see clearly through the rain pouring across his face. This thing, whatever it is, towers over Dabi. A single swipe sends rubble flying through the storm easily enough that it would probably break bones if it hit properly. But Dabi darts between its legs and holds up a hand, eyes glowing fiercely.

            “Fuck off, freak.” The smell of cooked flesh fills the air and dies as quickly as the flame. Izuku stares with wide eyes as the monster twitches and takes a step, two… then collapses lifelessly to the ground. Whatever it is, the height leaves its head lying close enough for Izuku to see the octopus tentacles hanging from its face like a beard. “This is private.”

            “So, there’s still fight in you surface dwellers!” A voice calls out. Izuku spins to find more shapes emerging from the rain, stalking forward behind one that’s even taller than the rest. Lightning gives him just enough light that the need to run fills Izuku’s gut. He’s staring at monsters from the ocean, walking on two legs with muscle that doesn’t even make human sense. The one in front is massive and blue green, with fangs longer than Dabi and a crown that looks utterly ridiculous. “That’s a shame. Here I was hoping that you’d be easy pickings for the first wave of my invasion.”

            “Who are you?!” Izuku shouts. The creature grins as it bends over, looking him up and down with amusement running down its fangs like the slime bleeding out of its gums.

            “Oh? A child? I always knew you were heathens, but sending a child to fight your battles… How pathetic.” A concrete barrier rises between the pair of them, knocking the creature’s face into the air. Suddenly Izuku is being dragged away from the fight by someone he can’t see, staring as something in the storm roars and new fighting erupts beyond the sheets of rain.

            “W-wait! You can’t keep me out of this!”

“Don’t argue, kid! You’re spent!” Someone shouts. Izuku struggles faintly, but his heart isn’t in it now that a hero is dragging him out of the way. When they throw him into a warehouse and drag him past a group of restrained villains, Izuku can only hope that the heroes didn’t use up all their strength taking out the small fry. He stares up at Best Jeanist and his sulk immediately disappears.

            “B-b-Best Jeanist?! What are you…?!”

            “Deku.” The word cuts off Izuku’s fanboy rant like a blade slamming into his gut. He doesn’t wilt under the hero’s stare, but he doesn’t volunteer anything either. “You and I were both liabilities in that fight. Don’t argue with a superior.”

            “Under, uh, I mean, yes sir! Best Jeanist-sama!” Izuku says quickly. He thinks there’s a ghost of a smile beyond the man’s cowl, but he honestly can’t tell.

            “I was surprised. The Green Wind Vigilante ended up being our saving grace today.”

            “W-well…”

            “Take the compliment, kid. Stay here, I’m going to go support the others.” Best Jeanist claps a hand over Izuku’s shoulder and pushes him towards the group of heroes coordinating evacuation of the site. “You did well. Don’t push it.”

            Izuku takes the advice. He sits with the coordinators, listening without really listening as he lets his body catch up. Pain radiates from every limb, but he’d done his job to a point. Sure, he doesn’t know if Dabi and Stain are out there taking those monsters’ side and reaping the heroes, but he’s done enough, apparently.

            He itches to go back out. But he sits quietly.

            When someone drags a sidekick’s mangled chest (just the chest, with entrails and spine hanging and blood still gushing from the wound) through the door, he’s sprinting towards the storm without a second thought.

            Hawks has seen large scale attacks before but being out in this storm is hell. Fish faced monsters brush off attacks and stalk through the line of heroes as if they’re picking strawberries. Dragging sidekicks out of their claws and jaws isn’t enough, even when two of the best heroes in the country are at it. Several are torn in half or eaten piece by piece.

            All he can do is watch, until something like a canon sounds from behind them. He panics, staring over his shoulder as he guides feathers to save his allies, only to find an empty storm and light bleeding out of a doorway that wasn’t there before.

            Whatever is unleashed, screams rip through the storm anew. Something on his right bellows and falls, then turns to a purple mist. Flashes light up the battlefield as bloody mist explodes from several beasts and thunder detonates overhead. Hawks’ eyes are wide when heroes fly back behind the safety line and monster limbs are torn from sockets, re-growing halfway before they’re torn to bits once more. A roar tears through the rain as one of the beasts closest to Hawks goes down.

            Despite what Hawks wants to believe, every time one of the monsters looks like it’s only incapacitated, it gets back up. Or tries to. As soon as they look like they’ll crawl back into the fight, they’re ruthlessly eviscerated. Thunder booms and rain digs down to Hawks’ bones as he watches Death carve through the battlefield.

            Right when he thinks the fight is over, the beast near the far end of the battlefield roars. The noise alone is enough that the younger sidekicks turn and flee, heading straight for the warehouse behind them. Most of the heroes falter as well. Hawks wants nothing more than to run and hide, but he stares as a large bolt arches through the clouds above and illuminates their savior facing down the massive creature.

            Midoriya is a dark green and gray blob in the storm. A child faces down the leader of the enemy, and Hawks’ can’t help but wonder if they ever stood a chance at all.

            “So, you’re not just any child?! Fine! I’ll face you for my lost men and make you watch as I devour every last human on this filthy surface world!” The monster roars. Hawks flies backward, dragging several people with him, when the earth shakes beneath the battle.

            There’s something inherently terrifying about hovering in a storm, waiting for lightning bolts as the earth shatters beyond the curtains of rain. Any passing moment Midoriya could lose and the beast could fall upon them. From the tiny snippets Hawks catches of the battle, it’s even faster than the fight with Stain and that fire zombie, both of whom have escaped at this point.

            Something flies through their line and shatters the warehouse behind them, leaving a gigantic hole in the side. Hawks flinches as Midoriya bursts from the rubble, heaving for breath and soaking wet. Then he’s off, slamming into the monster and holding the beast back right in the middle of the heroes’ holding position.

            “CAN YOU FEEL YOUR PATHETIC LIMBS GIVING IN YET, CHILD?” The monster howls, cackling through spear-sized teeth and throwing spit all over the boy in question. “DO YOU KNOW HOW LONG YOU HAVE BEFORE YOUR TINY BODY BREAKS BENEATH THE STRAIN OF FIGHTING THE GREATEST BEING ON PLANET EARTH?”

            “I DON’T WANT TO HURT YOU!” Midoriya is screaming over the rain, desperate to be heard. Hawks’ chest burns as the boy’s arms cave a little, giving the monster just enough headway to shove him down to one knee. “LEAVE US ALONE!”

            “I WILL FEAST ON YOUR MARROW, HUMAN!”

            “GaaaAAAAAH!” The scream that follows is barely human. Hawks is hovering ten meters from the deadlock, watching as the pavement cracks beneath Midoriya’s feet and shatters as he stands. Midoriya howls loud enough that every hero on the battlefield hears him and a bolt of lightning cracks open the storm above, lighting up their battlefield as if it’s broad daylight.

            Hawks has a front row seat when Midoriya yanks the creature towards him, off its feet and into the air, then hurls it backward. The light fades as the monster lands on its feet and leers down at Midoriya, howling in his face.

            A gale tears through the battlefield before anyone can catch what happens next. Hawks doesn’t open his eyes until he registers that the rain is gone and opens his eyes tentatively even then.

            Japan’s heroes stand beneath a newly opened hole in the storm watching sunlight illuminate a boy with green hair. His fist is cocked straight up, pointing through the headless carcass of a monster who was prepared to kill them all.  Overhead, storm clouds churn around the eye of the storm, trying to seal the scar left by Midoriya’s blow.

            The body-camera footage released to the press is choppy and miserable at best. No one sees the majority of what happens in the massacre, but there are enough usable moments that the reports get the point across.

            First come shots of Dabi and Stain fighting someone who’s essentially invisible to the camera. Only a few minutes of that fight are seen, but the level of the villains is clear enough to send a chill down anyone’s spine.

            “I don’t know who they’re fighting, but we’ve been ordered to leave it alone…” A voice whispers quietly, pressed into a corner as the heroes get in position to invade the warehouses. “All Might is out of the country and this… I don’t know, this doesn’t seem official. Something is fishy.”

            When the storm breaks, the recorder is one of the first people to get a good view of the sea creatures. Lightning gives the press just enough clear shots of heroes and sidekicks being ripped apart that the reports following the event are reported as “graphic images from the tragedy” in Chie. Muffled sobbing, screams, thunder and pounding rain fill most of the clips, but one clear moment is replayed across thousands of televisions.

            “Please… Please, anyone watching this, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, we can’t, I don’t think we’re going to hold them off…! Even Hawks and Best Jeanist can’t fight these monsters! You have to get everyone out, if you can see this you have to evacuate the country! This, they’re killing everyone!”

            The final few minutes of the footage reveal even more gore than before. Just before the recorder can be caught between three of the monsters, a flash of lightning shows all three turned to a gory mist of blue, purple and green. The camera doesn’t blink during the final blow. During the first several runs, no one will claim to know who the boy is, but eventually the credit will go to the Green Wind Vigilante, Deku, for ending the battle. His strength, cleaving the storm in two, leads most to speculate that he has a wind quirk of some kind to help him fight.

            Everyone who knows Midoriya Izuku will stop and stare as sunlight pours down on him. In the last moments of the video, he’s stumbling backward and falling to his knees, screaming wordlessly into the air. There’s no victory in the final moments of the footage; only a boy screaming in the face of what he’s done.

            In the last weeks of October, several things happen.

           Hardly two or three days after the invasion of the Deep-Sea Kin (what the heroics industry will come to call “The Storm” in the near future), a statue appears on the sands of Dagobah Beach. Most won’t question it. Dagobah isn’t a popular spot, more of a local getaway, and no one will suspect that the statue wasn’t commissioned.

            The piece in question is made from marble, nearly ten feet tall, seamlessly carved from a single block. It shows a faceless man, chiseled so perfectly that every muscle and outstanding vein along his chest and arms is clear. He only wears shorts, and they almost look as though they’ll come alive in the wind. Blocky sneakers cover his feet under legs carved with as much attention as his upper body.

            He stands with arms outstretched, crouched before a schoolgirl who stares over his shoulder. Tears pour down the young girl’s face if one peers close, though not many would be able to identify the lifeless expression on her face. Instead, they’ll look at the supernova exploding against the man’s back. Between the immortalized explosion and marbled muscle flames break and bleed outward, forming something akin to wings and tailfeathers from long blades of stone.

            Somehow, the piece looks less like stone and more like a cast. As if someone poured liquid marble over a slice of time and immortalized these two people, saving their expressions just before what should have been certain death. It leaves everyone who stares at it haunted and curious.

            Etched across the block at the base is a paragraph of text:

            “People called me Deku once because I was useless, but even a useless person was able to save someone. Maybe I can take this name and make it something different. The name was never important in the first place, honestly. All that mattered is that someone needed saving, and I happened to be there.”

• Deku The Green Wind Vigilante; For my best friend, our hero

(Someday, a few particular people will see this statue and understand what it means, who made it, etc.… But before that, a certain young artist will need to sell his works, to become known amongst the art world for his immaculate portrayal of heroics as well as his blending of styles. That young artist will never use stone as a medium, or ever use his quirk to create official works, but the statue of Deku will not be the last to appear in Musutafu)

            Despite what Midoriya describes as “physical agony” during his experience in The Storm, he will only be hospitalized for three days. In the weeks after that, he will be subjected to more doctor’s appointments and tests than he has ever faced in his life. His schedule will, in fact, be so busy that school becomes an afterthought. Eventually he will respectfully withdraw on the basis that he’s transferring to U.A.’s heroics department on a special scholarship.

            The tests conducted on Midoriya will reveal a completely average human. Nothing about him, save for his slightly overactive immune system and his rather dense musculature, is beyond physical possibilities. When he breaks the sound barrier and casually lifts several metric tons with one hand in the physical exams, the doctors run every test they can think of.

            Nothing ever turns up. Midoriya is listed as Anomaly number one in public record, though he will forever be quirkless.

            The trial of Midoriya Izuku is a quiet affair (“why” is debatable, but the most popular theory is that the public prosecutor’s KNOW they’re going to lose). After his hospitalization, he is brought to court for vigilantism and reckless endangerment, as well as breaking and entering AND destruction of property. What follows is a week-long glimpse into society that the judge, prosecutor, and executives are simply not prepared for.

            In bringing Midoriya Izuku to court, the country of Japan has bitten off more than it can chew. The courtroom is packed with heroes and a few touched civilians, aside from people who are far too important to be attending this particular case. Presiding over the case is a judge who has not been informed of the specifics due to how quickly this case was pushed to the front of the line. Defending Midoriya is a local lawyer who no one aside from Midoriya Izuku has ever heard of. From the very beginning, the defense and Midoriya’s guests are the single calmest people in the courtroom. Somehow there’s a tension in the air that frazzles everyone else. Maybe it’s the air of bloodlust leaking out of these people, all of whom have showed up to protect Midoriya.

            When it begins, several things come to light. Police and Heroic negligence come first. Discrimination against quirkless people is an undercurrent of the case, one that is danced around for two days before the defense brings it rather harshly into the light. No one wants to touch the subject, but by the end the facts leave them no choice. Reckless endangerment charges almost stick, but the testimony of a certain teacher on Midoriya’s behalf prove that Midoriya has put more consideration into preservation of life than several of the heroes who are in the courtroom. His abilities are tested for a full day, recorded by sensors on par or even more accurate than U.A.’s, before the analysts report that Midoriya’s use of force is immaculately trained.

            After five days, all members of the defense and prosecution are summoned to the judge’s chambers. The judge throws a bit of a fit when Midoriya lays out the events of the past several months and then proceeds to tell the judge that he’s still not telling them EVERYTHING, because there are secrets of the state far too delicate to be exposed in a public trial.

            In the face of additional charges, Midoriya asks to speak with the judge in private. When everyone else has left the room, he slides the judge a card with All Might’s personal cell phone number. He tells the judge to ask if All Might knows Midoriya, and what the relationship of their relationship is.

            The trial ends two days later, and all charges against Midoriya Izuku are dropped.

Several new investigations are opened in the time after that, but without Midoriya’s testimony they are all dropped as well. Needless to say, the public prosecutor’s office learns to hate Midoriya Izuku’s name after that. Eventually they’ll get over it. For the next several years, they will avoid anything with his name out of sheer spite and the knowledge that he’s their worst possible enemy on the stand.

            Midoriya is also called into the office of the chief of police. It happens after his trial, so he goes with a bit of a bad taste in his mouth. After sitting in a long, boring meeting about Anomalies and testifying to the sheer ridiculousness of their abilities, he stands up and stares down the chief of police. He outlines the cases he could make for negligence, several of which are already opened by the prosecutor’s office, and he lays down an ultimatum.

            When he leaves, Nezu makes plans for Midoriya’s transfer to U.A. and the executives of the police force make several phone calls. Midoriya will receive a license for heroics several weeks later in exchange for his silence and the work he’s already done in the face of public service.

            Melissa sighs as she wanders the hospital. She’s not lost, per se, but the fact that no one seems to know where her patient is irritates her. Apparently, this happens often. He’s not the type of person who enjoys being in a hospital, or the type to let people stick needles in him. Eventually she finds herself walking into the rehabilitation center with a frown that wards off any and all doctors trying to send her away. It helps that no one wants anything to do with the person she’s come to find. They’re all terrified of him.

            Bakugō Katsuki lies in a plank on the floor, doing push-ups on one arm as sweat makes the black tank top cling to his body. She stops for a moment, watching him push himself up and growl as he peaks.

            “Two hundred forty-four,” He mutters. Melissa closes her eyes and takes a breath, praying for the patience to deal with him, before she throws her folder down on the table with a loud slap.

            “Bakugō-san!” He barely looks at her out of the corner of his eye before he does another push up. She growls and stalks over to him, crossing her arms as he finishes this one. In a moment of irritation and pettiness that is normally beneath her, she takes the moment he pauses at his crest to step onto his back.

            She does this to annoy him. Not finishing a set is the one thing that Melissa has found that breaks Bakugō’s shell and releases the latent anger buried in his chest.

            When he doesn’t flinch beneath her weight, she frowns. He does the next push-up despite her position, and glares at her when she steps off.

            “Get back up there, Doc.” He rasps. She returns his glare as he trembles on the floor, then huffs.

            “You’re not supposed to be exerting yourself.” He doesn’t respond, only glares at her until she rolls her eyes and gets onto his back again.

            They’ve been doing this for two weeks. Melissa knows all too well that Bakugō will get his way, if only because he’s too stubborn and quiet to hold an argument with. So, she waits as he finishes the push-ups to climb off and grabs her folder as he stands and wipes himself down with his towel.

            “We can’t get any sort of baseline for your physical if you keep stressing yourself, Bakugō-san. If you want to go through with the operation, you need to take some time off and relax.”

            “Deku ain’t relaxing. I ain’t gonna lose to the nerd.” Bakugō mutters. Melissa rolls her eyes. Partially because she’s seen what Izuku-kun is capable of, and partially because this argument has been a constant thing for the past two weeks as well. No matter what, Bakugō refuses to let himself relax while Izuku-kun is stronger than he is.

            “You’re looking at getting a prosthetic attached on a neural and muscular level, Bakugō-san, this isn’t a joke. The operation will be taxing for your body even if you’re at peak physical condition!” She rants, stalking forward as he starts hanging crunches.

            “Whatever you’ve got,” Bakugō stops and glares at her with the infuriatingly passive expression that’s carved into his face. “I’ll take it and I’ll use to blow Deku away. Got it?”

            “And what are you going to do when your prosthetic doesn’t take?” Melissa snaps. “Are you going to become a hero with one arm, wandering around doing half the work that Izuku-kun can? This procedure is for your own good, Bakugō-kun!”

            His eyes widen in shock when she flicks his forehead and glares down at him. She cuts him off just before he can respond, leaving him slack jawed as her voice raises until she’s shouting.

            “Your doctor and I have agreed that even if you ARE capable of doing all this without your arm, your prosthetic surgery CAN’T happen while you’re physically exhausted and recovering from these insane workouts! So unless you’re content to settle down as half the man you COULD be, you will LISTEN TO ME and STOP DOING THIS to yourself!”

            After a few moments, Bakugō huffs and looks down at the floor and growls quietly, “Fine.”

            Melissa is a bit shocked. She didn’t actually think that would work. She’s gotten so used to people doing things against her advice and making it work anyways that she’s this close to tearing her hair out. Working with Hatsume and Monitor and Izuku-kun has left her numb to the concept of restraint and “realistic”. Bakugō-san is just one more example of how ridiculous her life has become.

            “What?”

            “I said FINE, Doc.” Bakugō huffs. “After today I’ll take it easy. Just make sure you do it right.”

            She stares at him for several moments before he scowls.

            “What’s that dumb ass look for?” Despite the heat and the snarl, Melissa can’t help but laugh.

            “Nothing, Bakugō-san.” Her response leaves him squinting at her suspiciously, but she doesn’t care. She turns and walks toward the door, then glances back at him with a smile before she leaves. “I’ll be back tomorrow to check up on you. Please try not to blow anything up while you’re resting!”

            “Fuck off, Doc, I ain’t an idiot!” He shouts, already curling towards the ceiling again. If Melissa hesitates at the door, catching a glimpse of the carved muscles exposed when his shirt falls off his stomach, then only the desk clerk would ever know. And the clerk isn’t going to tell, considering he’s seen the man dragged out of that room shirtless and exhausted. There’s a bit of a smile that the two of them share as she waves on her way out, as if they’re sharing a secret.

            The only thing that the clerk will tell anyone is that someone got Bakugō to agree to something. And that is the single most unbelievable thing in the world, so who would care about the rest?

            Nezu’s office is surprisingly full. Izuku sits on a couch nervously, trying his very best to keep his eyes on the floor between his feet. On his right are a blonde-haired student, Sir Nighteye, and Detective Tsukauchi. To his left are a scraggly man who introduced himself as Aizawa-sensei, known on duty as Eraserhead, and All Might.

            It’s the beginning of November, and the last month has been so crazy that he’s almost numb to the tension in the room. Sadly he’s not actually numb to it: the tension leaves him irritated and uncertain of what to do. Nighteye seems angry that Izuku is in the room, which doesn’t make sense.

            Not that anything makes sense anymore, but oh well. He’s still holding out hope.

            “I’ve called you all here for several reasons. The first of which is Midoriya’s transfer to U.A.” Nezu chirps happily. “Though I’m excited to have such a noble young person such as yourself coming to learn here, I’m worried about your situation. You’ve been out of school for nearly a month, haven’t you?”

            “Um, yes sir?” Izuku mutters.

            “Then we will appoint you a tutor!” Nezu claims. “Aizawa, will you please inform the chosen party? Heroes are a bit too busy at the moment, so anyone from your class will be fine. I think you had an idea in mind, didn’t you?”

            “Yes. I’ll talk to them.” Aizawa groans.

            “Good. Now, in regard to Midoriya’s transfer, I’ve determined that our heroics department is somewhat… lacking.” Nezu hops of his chair and reappears in front of them, pacing back and worth as he speaks. “Midoriya and Hatsume are Anomalies, both capable of incredible things. Miss Shield has joined them as an ally, and they are working on several things that are beyond the scope of our normal curriculum. That, in addition to Togata-kun’s newfound abilities and Bakugō’s diagnosis as our third local Anomaly, has led me to this decision regarding next year.

            “Hero class S.” Nezu stops and looks at each of them in turn, stopping on Izuku in particular. “A group of individuals capable of responding to threats like the one seen in The Storm and the awakening of the Ancient King in Alaska. It will serve as a place where we can gather Anomalies and heroics students, creating a group who will serve as our last defense in the face of villainous Anomalies and monster awakenings. There’s too much we don’t understand about what’s been happening.”

            “What will Mirio’s involvement be?” Nighteye pipes up, glaring at Nezu so harshly that Izuku wants to curl up in a ball and hide, lest he end up under the man’s glare. “As a third year, he’ll be graduating after one more semester. Why would he be enlisted in this class S?”

            “Because he’ll need time to adjust to his power. Should he require it, he’ll be listed as an assistant teacher to this course and given the time he needs before entering the field. That way, he can serve as your apprentice as well, and teach our Anomalies the true spirit of heroics!” Nezu is grinning, despite the chill in the air. “Regardless, I’d like to keep him here while we’re researching the Anomalies as an additional resource.”

            “Who’s going to be teaching this course?” All Might asks, glancing around the room and fiddling with the buttons on his yellow suit jacket. Nezu whirls to face the hero with an even broader grin.

            “I have no idea!” Izuku snorts quietly, earning him a glare from Nighteye before Nezu continues. “Midoriya-kun has recommended a teacher from his current school, and I’m in negotiations with him as of this moment. But we’ll need someone who’s actually capable to teaching these students heroics and fighting, which will be difficult considering their ability. Anomalies need to be studied more before we have a true understanding of their abilities. However, I’m testing a new theory with this class as well, so we’ll need it to be someone we trust. I believe that Anomalies evolve through contact and will. People who are exposed to Midoriya, Bakugō and Hatsume may in fact become Anomalies themselves… which would mean that we have to watch them very carefully.”

            “True.” Aizawa sighs. “We can’t afford having a class full of that type.”

            “Not all of us are like Mei-san…” Izuku sighs, scratching the back of his head. “though between her and Kacchan, I can’t imagine that the class will be easy to handle.”

            “Why exactly is Midoriya here in the first place?” Nighteye stands, pressing his glasses up his nose and crossing his arms as they all turn to look at him. “He’s not a student, nor is he important to this conversation. He’s a child, a vigilante, an Anomaly. Why consult a student on how his class will be managed?”

            “Midoriya-kun is here because I asked him to be.” Nezu states easily, grinning at Izuku despite the chill in Sir’s words. “After resolving our differences, I’ve agreed that he should have a say in how the Anomalies are managed considering he is, at this moment, our only defense against enemy Anomalies.”

            “Mirio will prove more than capable against them.” Nighteye growls.

            “All Might isn’t.” Izuku stands, looking at Nighteye with strength of will that he doesn’t have. “What makes you think Togata-senpai will be able to?”

            “Don’t speak out of turn.” Nighteye hisses, glaring down at him. “You’ve been a hero for all of two weeks, a vigilante for barely two months and you’re far from being an adult. Whatever your experience, the fact that you are here at all goes against all logic.”

            “Anomalies don’t deal with logic, Nighteye-san.” Izuku says evenly. “But isn’t the class that I’m about to transfer into my business, at least? Principal Nezu-san is asking about instating a new policy for people like me and Mei-san, not for people like Togata-senpai. Your place here is just as questionable as mine.”

            “And here I thought you didn’t have a spine.” Nighteye growls. “Your ability to defend the masses is lacking, Midoriya. Togata is the next symbol of Peace, the next number one, and you… You’re just a quirkless boy who pushes their nose in where it doesn’t belong.”

            “Someone once told me that putting your nose where it doesn’t belong is what heroes do.” Izuku says quietly, clenching his fists. “They also told me that people don’t decide whether or not they become heroes. We are heroes; that’s all that matters. But heroes don’t look down on others, Nighteye-san. You’re not capable of protecting the masses either, are you?”

            They stare at one another for a minute, almost two, before Nighteye takes a breath and looks at the floor. When they take their seats, Nezu nods and clasps his paws behind his back.

            “Very good points, both of you.” The principal claims solemnly. “But this decision is all but made. As of right now, our only question is who to put in Course S.”

            “I’ve got some recommendations from my class.” Aizawa says quietly. “And Kan will have some from his. If this is made of first years, we should limit it to the first-year heroics courses and the Big Three.”

            “I agree. However, I’m considering adding Course S to class 1-A given that they’ll be too small and too chaotic to manage otherwise.” Nezu chirps. “We’ll need to look into creating a dorm for them or moving things around.”

            “Hatsume and Melissa-san stay in the lab most of the time…” Izuku raises a hand, catching both Nezu and Aizawa’s attention. “Why not have them construct a dorm at that level?”

            “You’d be too far below ground for us to manage effectively. Besides, that space exists to keep Hatsume isolated for good reasons.” Nezu says quickly. “Having people go in and out is enough trouble as it is. Connecting them might be possible, but I’ll have to think about that. Now, on to our last reason for calling each of you here…”

            Izuku heads to Hatsume’s lab after the meeting with Togata in tow. He couldn’t find it in himself to refuse the boy a meeting with U.A.’s mythical inventing madwoman, though he had to warn the boy extensively.

            He gives Togata several minutes to drink in the sight of the massive bunker. Even now, a month after he was last here, the room has evolved again. The labyrinth is starting to be cleaned away by robots of various shapes and sizes. Overhead there are crates full of projects and dormant machines. At a glance, they’re a bit larger than those things that shipping vessels carry around and made of an odd black metal that Mei-san won’t tell him about.

            Hatsume’s workstation is, in a word, awesome. Awesome in the sense of odd and strange and incredible that simply can’t be described in another word, or in the paltry sense of how the word is most commonly used.

            The floor underfoot is a light pink that’s easy on the eye. Pink stretches for ten meters on each side, stopping near thick black lines that outline the workstation. Monitor’s chassis hangs overhead, grotesque and jaw-dropping still despite the number of trips Izuku has made to this place, and the wall behind the machine is constantly more and more alive with lights and machines. On Izuku’s left is an alcove built from the alien black metal that is Hatsume’s trademark, and even though Izuku has never seen what that little room is for it terrifies him. Far too many arms hang from the upper portion of the alcove’s walls, waiting for some command that haunts Izuku’s nightmares.

            Why Hatsume likes to craft machines in a way that SCREAMS “mad scientist” is beyond Izuku. He still hasn’t figured out if it’s on purpose or not.

            On their right is the computer station, but now there are two stations and the chairs are hanging from more robotic limbs, surrounded by screens forming a semicircle around the “control chair”. It looks very anime, if Izuku had to put a word to it. When dormant the chairs sit on the floor with their ridiculous number of keyboards in front and screens at idle. Actively, there are rings lining the back of the chair and the sides, with cupholders and small tables so that the two inventors can work in any conditions.

            In front of them… Well, Izuku doesn’t really know. There’s still the wall of toolboxes and the pegboard full of tools, but there aren’t nearly as many. Now there’s only the dental chair turned into a flat exam table, with the weird brain analyzing helmet, and whatever the girls are working on.

            “We have guests.” Monitor declares. Izuku’s eyes widen as the pair leapt to attention and throw a tarp over the project, trying to clean up much faster than Izuku thinks is necessary.

            “Are you still not going to tell me what that project is?” He doesn’t pout, but he feels like he’s close to pouting. They’ve all gotten a bit closer since he started spending more time down here. Melissa-san is incredibly kind and hardworking, so engrossed by the materials at her disposal now that she’s constantly high on her inventions with Mei-san. On the other hand, Mei-san isn’t any calmer or more organized, but she’s… easier to understand. Izuku has put in the time and talked with Monitor enough to have a bit more insight into how she works.

            Not that she makes sense. Whatever goes on in her brain is still beyond him (Melissa, Kābā, Izuku and Power Loader have thrown together a plan for her “robot army” going rogue, so he tries not to worry about that too much) but there’s enough good that he just… tries to accept it as who she is.

            “Nope!” Melissa-san seems to be the one most excited about it. Mei-san is excited about everything, but Melissa-san is oddly excited about this one. “We’re close though, so you’ll probably get to see it around December.”

            “Right.” Izuku sighs. “Melissa Shield-san, Hatsume Mei-san, this is Togata-senpai. He’s… Well, he’s All Might’s successor.”

            Togata-senpai grins when Izuku introduces him that way. He’s already been briefed on who these four (including Monitor, because why not) people are courtesy of Nezu. All the same, Izuku is surprised by how easy going the boy is.

            “It’s wonderful to meet you both! From what Nezu-sama tells me, I’ll be watching over you all starting next semester.” Togata-senpai grins as Melissa-san looks to Izuku for an answer. Once they’ve explained the idea behind “S Course” (which sounds much better in Izuku and Togata-senpai’s opinion) the four of them end up on a short tour of the facilities.

            The alcove is, apparently, a high-tech automated design studio. Izuku doesn’t really blink when they turn it on and have it build a small tool. He only shudders at the number of arms and machines whirling around the alcove. From there, they explain the crates, the drones, Mei-san’s designs, Monitor (who introduces himself and explains his role in a short conversation) and their various suites that lie beneath the actual lab space.

            “Any and all tests you do with One for All or with Midoriya’s upper limits have to be conducted down here,” Melissa-san explains happily, pressing a button and drawing a massive room out of the floor on the right side of the room. “We’ve designed it to handle anything All Might is capable of dishing out on top of tracking bio readouts of the people inside.”

            “We’ve also got robots that are capable of reaching up to half of All Might’s upper strength, so we have training for you both if you want!” Mei-san cackles. “Monitor uses the simulations to build better combat AI so you should use it as often as you want!”

            Izuku decides never to use it. Judging from the look he shares with Togata-senpai, they’re together on that.

            By the time they’re done touring the facilities, Izuku has a bit of a headache but he’s made a new friend. Hopefully. Nighteye really doesn’t like him. Does it count he made a friend and made a negative friend?

            Are negative friends even a thing?

            Tachibana and Kābā would kick him for worrying about it, so he’ll try not to. Maybe he’ll ask them later just to double check.

            Monitor: Akira-san, are you certain?

            Akira: I need to tell them eventually. Are you sure that this will work?

            Monitor: The simulations reveal this will be one hundred percent effective. Even in the face of your older brother, as long as Midoriya-kun is on board there will be no risk to you or anyone else.

            Akira: Anyone but my family.

            Monitor: Your family is a crime syndicate. They are not my concern.

            Akira: Why are you involved in this at all?

            Monitor: Because you are a part of Midoriya-kun’s extended family, and because there is a chance your brother is an Anomaly.

            Akira: I’ll tell them, I promise. I just need more time.

            Monitor: I’m not certain how much time you will have, Akira-san. But this is your personal matter, and I will be here if you need more urgent extraction. Either of you.

            Akira: Izuku-kun didn’t ask you to do this? He doesn’t know anything?

            Monitor: Midoriya-kun is intelligent but incapable of pushing into another person’s past. He has no idea of your situation, or else he’d have asked you, would he not?

            Akira: You’re right, I guess… that’s what he’s like.

            Monitor: Certainly. I’ll delete evidence of this communication shortly. Be well, Akira-san. You have my number.

 A/N:

I have to put my Author's Note here because this one is long, sorry.

This one I like a lot more than the last chapter. Setting everything up after what feels like an epic climax is super satisfying. This story is so long at this point, I'm shocked. You've all been super supportive, whether silently or vocally, and I love you all. Thank you for dealing with my ridiculousness. 

On top of getting a lot of notes saying people didn't want Bakugō to be an anomaly, I got some criticism. So I'm gonna use this Author's Note to explain what, in my opinion, Unlimited Midoriya's development has been. Maybe this will put some things in perspective if you're wonder WHAT I was thinking when writing certain parts or WHY the OCs are important. You can ignore this if you don't care about the person behind the story or the characters. Really I'm not judging you for it. Just... if you're curious:

1. Our overview chapter: the summation of Izuku’s involvement in things and a glimpse at how things have deviated from canon. A way to set your expectations.

2. Deviation: The beginning of Unlimited Izuku. A young man who’s given up on being a hero, who only wants to better himself and is feeling… maybe a little resentment, a little cynicism, a little guilt and a lot of “what do I do next?” on top of “what was I thinking?”. His mother is at the end of her rope, unsure what to do.

3. Overdrive: An introduction to the different story. Izuku is stuck getting through villain attacks, just trying to live his life with whatever this is. Heroes are being kinda rude about his quirklessness, and he’s not really sure what to do. All Might told him the honest truth, and he should respect that. He’s given up. No going back. Helping people is one thing, but he CAN’T be a hero, even if he wants to be. It’s an internal struggle against his own instincts, and it leaves a bad taste in his life because he’s basically given Katsuki and everyone else who was a dick to him the win.
But Izuku gets a shark! A very helpful shark.

4. Impact: Izuku makes friends, still coming to terms with his situation. People start telling him to be a hero and that stings more than it should. But he’s working on it. High school is a bitch, especially when you’re not just going through THOSE changes but like… Being a god. It’s weird. He’s still going to help people. No change there. But even that’s starting to be a double-edged sword.

5. Reposition: Izuku is closer with his friends. People start to look at his life and say that he needs some more normal stuff. They’re not being rude, but they could have done it better. His friends are worried about him because he’s so conflicted and stressed about all this, on top of throwing himself into harm’s way. But Izuku is more comfortable pushing his limits and doing crazy things, like running into burning buildings. He’s starting to accept that he’s going to keep fighting for people, saving them.

Oh, and All for One shows up and drops a baby, an eye-opening realization, and several threats on Izuku’s lap. Not very helpful.

6. Re: Charge: Izuku meets Eri and Nezu. He becomes more than just a teenager, more than just Izuku. In Eri, I think, he found the resolve to go out and save others. And a lot of hatred for those who hurt innocents.

7. Exposure: Izuku meets Mei. And he is, in my eyes, understandably upset. I think as a teenager when things get thrown up into the air so many times you just start building this… anger. Anger at your situation, at the craziness that you just can’t DO anything about. It feels horrible. And Izuku is trying to figure out how to care for Eri, even though he’s SO FAR out of his depth. So he decides to cut Nezu loose if U.A. is going to be the same as everyone else.
Getting to deal with Overhaul helps, if only because he gets to vent and stop worrying about the fact that this guy is OUT THERE. Only now everyone knows Izuku’s out there. We all have impulses, and I think Izuku isn’t done trying to figure things out. He’s developing fast but things are happening faster. His friends are trying to mother him because they worry. Because he’s obviously not healthy and stressed out by these things.

8. Compression: Backlash from his actions. The realization that he’s got this power for better or worse, and he’s been going about it the wrong way. Opening up to his friends more, both because he wants to be close to people and because he needs people to talk to. Eri starts being happier, and the pair of them both inch toward recovery.
Only Izuku jumps in front of a bomb. I don’t know about you guys, but I don’t know how I’d handle someone I love sacrificing themselves. How do you even comprehend that?

9. Snapshot: Izuku plays with time. He’s starting to understand who he is. What he’s inclined to do, and what he WANTS to do. His talk with Recovery Girl is starting to sink in, and he’s coming to terms. So yeah, he gives his friends time. Also his hair loss was stress, but it’s done with here don’t worry.

Our first glimpse into the lives of our OCs. I have ways of making them important but they’re developing too. How many times did you ever have a friend who aggressively mothered people and had to learn to accept people first? Because I’ve been there. Maybe this is all projection.

10. Destabilize: I skipped the reunion because I just. I feel like there’s a lot of emotion there I can’t properly convey. His friends have decided to support him for him, because they like him and because they think he’s a hero. Even if he scares them. Izuku hears about the attack and realizes that, if Stain’s involved, he has to be involved too. He’s distraught over Bakugō and he knows this is going to blow up in his face but he knows what he has to do now. Some frustration bleeds through because he’s a teenager. He’s not good at this yet. But he’s trying, and he’s better.

If you read that or not, if you enjoy where I'm taking this or not... Thank you for reading. Come yell at me, leave a comment, whatever you like. I love hearing from you guys and I need friends.

-Kread

Chapter Text

            12: Recombination

            Izuku never thought he’d be happy to go back to school.

            He never really thought of how much time it eats up in the middle of the day, or how much social time a person gets just milling about in the hallways. There’s nothing particularly special about going to school until you’ve spent two weeks in and out of hospital rooms, doctor’s offices, meetings, courtrooms…

            Yeah, Izuku is happy to be back in school. No one else seems to know what to do with him, but he’s not all here in the first place so it doesn’t bother him nearly as much as it used to.

            The sound of the door slamming shut traps him beneath a pouring rainstorm for what feels like several minutes. Open jaws roar soundlessly in front of him as lightning dyes everything moist white. Blood pours from the fangs and through his fingers. All it takes to return him to reality is the tiniest bump. Someone nudging against his desk on the way to their own, a tap from Kābā, chalk on the chalkboard, anything mundane enough to remind him where he is. Casual chatter fills the room with a white noise that Izuku appreciates now more than ever.

            Kābā’s face doesn’t even register in Izuku’s mind (he’s trying to figure out what’s so off about Izuku today) because Izuku is too busy watching the teacher put the first messages of the day on the board. There are other things: bits of conversation that are louder than others, forced stillness in the wake of outbursts and chair scrapes, prickling along the back of his neck and a constant urge to keep track of every living thing moving through the room. 

            Everything jerks through various stages of full speed and pen-drop silent.

            After the third time he DRAGS his awareness into the present (as opposed to the shattered remains of negative n-th degree seconds) Izuku looks back at Kābā. He’s still wearing the same little smile and Kābā hasn’t moved. It’s been all of ten, maybe twenty seconds to everyone else.

            Izuku has no idea how long he’s been sitting at his desk anymore.

            “Hey,” Kābā makes a face. “You okay?”

            “Hmm? Oh, yeah,” Izuku forces himself to smile as his eyes scrape along the windows and the chalkboard.

            “Dude.”

            “I’m fine.”

            “Spill or else.” Kābā makes a serious face, the one he thinks is threatening, and holds up his tin of colored pens. “Unicorns.”

            “You have got to stop threatening me with unicorns.” Izuku rolls his eyes and digs his fingers through the fringe of curls hanging over his forehead.

            “All those unicorns in your house have red eyes man. You should be more afraid.” Kābā sings, fighting the urge to smirk and failing horribly.

            “They have red eyes for a reason!”

            “Yeah, they’re bloodthirsty!”

            “They’re ALBINO, Kābā!”

            “Albino, bloodthirsty, what’s the difference?”

            “Well first off, Nobutaka-kun,” Izuku’s face draws tight as the teacher speaks up from the other side of Kābā’s desk, freezing his friend on the spot. “They’re human beings and calling them bloodthirsty is rather rude. Now, as fascinating as this conversation is, would you two mind if we started class?”

            “No sir.” Kābā mutters, shooting Izuku a panicked look as he turns around.

            Yeah, Izuku is glad to be back in class. Things aren’t any less odd, but he’s gotten used to it. Now he just has to shake these episodes and he’ll be fine. Apparently being hypersonic isn’t as much of a blessing as he imagined it would be.

            It’s been about a month since the whole “Izuku jumped in front of a bomb” thing and it’s been replaced by a sense of… caution. His friends are doing their best to avoid suffocating him but there’s a measure of “space” that exists between them too. Not the same as “avoiding you” space. More like a buffer. One he doesn’t like, because he kind of likes having everyone tucked in close. Even if Tachibana needles him about his extracurriculars being too dangerous and Kābā uses ‘threats’ to get him to open up about his problems or Akiko tries to get him to join her ‘modeling’ agency, he’s constantly aware of the distance lingering between them.

            Why is this important? Because when Izuku goes to lunch on his first day back in school, he finds his friend group has expanded by a whole five people. He’s not really sure what to do with that. Especially since he’s spent the past few weeks in the company of his adopted child, a sarcastic robot, a manic inventor and All Might’s apprentice.

            After a few blinks and several chuckles from his friends, he notices that Erin and Sachi, the inquisitive upperclassmen from before that whole “Izuku jumped in front of a bomb” thing (a lot happened in chapter nine huh?), have joined his friends and offer him nothing more than shy (Sachi) or devilish (Erin) smiles when he stands on the edge of the crowd. Everyone else… yeah, Izuku doesn’t know them. The blonde kid might be someone from his class, but maybe not.

            “Hey, Midoriya-kun!” One of the two remaining students pops up when Sokuchi smiles at Izuku, immediately offering him a short bow. He’s got glasses, the thick rimmed kind, and he’s got… is that coral? Maybe coral growing out of his right shoulder instead of skin. “Man, I’m a big fan!”

            “Um?”

            “Seriously, between that Yakuza fight and then that clip of you in the storm, all those crazy fast stunts you pulled are intense, man. Great job putting the heroes in their place.” This guy is smiling, but there’s no warmth to it. He’s riding something, either nervous excitement or mania, and Izuku doesn’t know what he’s supposed to do about this.

            “But…”

            “And then that trial! You know they barred the public from attending? That’s so crazy, what was that even like? I heard a bunch of super high-profile heroes showed up! Did you meet Hawks? I’m his biggest fan, that guy is such a cool hero…”

            “W-wait,” Izuku has to grab the boy to get a word in, but the group are all looking at him now that he’s got his word in. “What are you talking about?”

            “You, Midoriya!” The boy laughs and Izuku catches the barest traces of confusion bleeding into his expression. “I mean, the green wind vigilante…!”

            “I really don’t mean to be rude or anything, especially after you said all those nice things but, I mean…” Izuku offers up the most painful smile he possibly can because he kind of wants to throw himself off the roof. Sadly, that wouldn’t put an end to things, he’d just get fined for destroying public property. “It’s just, I’m quirkless, so…”

            “You’re what.” Ah, there it is. The wave crashes into confusion, and this kid may as well be all wet. Izuku hopes his smile is sympathetic.

            “I’m quirkless.”

            “But that’s…”

            “I mean, I’m flattered that you think I could handle all of that, really, but I don’t deserve the credit honestly.”

            “But the hair?”

            “I… I think green hair isn’t all that uncommon, honestly? There’s like five people in the hero course at U.A. with green hair…”

            “You have to be the green wind vigilante.”

            “I’m quirkless.”

            “That’s. I did the math. We saw you crush that robot.”

            “It was just a friend of mine pulling a prank. The shell wasn’t even that thick.” Izuku shrugs. “I’m really sorry, I know everyone thinks I’m some kind of badass, but all my free time goes into studying and taking care of my adopted sister.”

            “Adopted sister?” The boy’s final hopes shatter as Izuku pulls out his phone, immediately swiping through his photo album of Eri.

            “Yeah, she was being abused so my mom and I took her in… Look, she just started smiling recently and I swear she’s just the bubbliest kid you’ve ever met! She loves animals, so we always go to the park,” Izuku cuts off as the other unknown variable grabs the first and offers up a smile.

            “I think we should go.”

Izuku waves halfheartedly as the two leave, then spins around and finds his friends looking very disappointed.

            “What?”

            “That was harsh man.” Kābā sighs.

            “I’m still shocked it works in the first place.” Tachibana mutters darkly, stabbing her chopsticks into her bento with enough force that some food tumbles out. “It’s so obvious. People are dumb.”

            Izuku sighs as he takes a seat on the far side of the group and waves halfheartedly back to Erin-san as she smirks his way.

            “Quirkless, huh?”

            “Y-yeah.” Izuku fumbles for the doctor’s note and hands it across the circle, leaving both girls and the newcomer (who hijacks the note after Erin gets ahold of it) visibly dumbfounded. “I didn’t lie.”

            “But we were there!” Erin nearly shouts, catching the attention of several cliques around the rooftop. “You saved Sachi from that bomb!”

            “That was you?!” Izuku’s eyes bug out of his skull.

            “We forgot.” Sokuchi looks at Tachibana, who groans and throws her weight against the chain link fence behind them.

            “I knew we were forgetting something!”

            Izuku stares around the circle as Kābā and Daisuke and Akiko all cackle and Sachi-san blushes fiercely and Sokuchi watches them stone faced with Tachibana buried in her shoulder.

            “W-wait, so S-s-sa…”

            “Hanamura,” Erin rolls her eyes.

            “Hanamura-senpai was the one who…?!” Izuku blushes madly, and Hanamura-senpai does the same. Erin frowns in the face of his question, then nods.

            “The bomber was an ex-boyfriend of mine. You saved everyone involved, so I thought you were just protecting your identity but this… what the hell, Midoriya?”

            “I…” Izuku groans as he drags a hand over his face. “It’s a long story.”

            “Oh!” Izuku blinks as Daisuke brightens. “I forgot to ask! Can you get Hatsume to put Monitor’s OS on my phone?”

            “Hey, wait a sec-!”

            “Why?” Izuku isn’t entirely sure why Daisuke seems so friendly with Monitor or the idea of a mad genius buried under U.A…. Okay he’s entirely sure why he just doesn’t want to deal with it. Doing what Daisuke is asking would involve dealing, and Izuku is all out of dealing today. His last two problems just fled his company, and he’s not emotionally prepared for all this. “Why would you want Monitor on your phone? Is someone after you?”

            “No, I’m just curious.” Daisuke grins. “Plus, maybe he could help me out with kendo practice.”

            “Look, Monitor doesn’t do that kind of thing.” Izuku frowns at the idea. “He’d probably program a bunch of alarms into your phone just for getting him involved and then harass you about your form.”

            “Seriously?” Daisuke deflates a bit. Izuku is kind of glad. He doesn’t want Monitor infecting his life more than necessary.

            “Monitor?” Hanamura-senpai pipes up from Erin’s side, reminding Izuku that he’s been ignoring the redhead for far too long, judging from her expression.

            “Uh…” Izuku is fumbling for the words when Kābā’s mischievous side takes over.

            “Izuku is best friends with this insane girl quarantined under U.A. who invented a sentient artificial intelligence that lives in Midoriya’s phone.” He takes a bite of apple and chews while the three newcomers digest that information and Izuku stares at him with the betrayal open on his face. “mrpWhant? It’s true!”

            “You can’t just tell people that!” Izuku squawks.

            “You pretend to be quirkless.”

            “It’s not PRETENDING…!”

            “You’re basically god.”

            “Are we going back to the blasphemy? Seriously?”

            “Would you prefer unicorns?”

            “I…”

            “What is WRONG with you people?!” Erin hisses, breaking into Izuku and Kābā’s argument as the rest look on with amusement on their faces.

            “You get used to it.” Akira shrugs, not bothering to look up from her book.

            “It’s pretty quiet without Izuku around, honestly. He fights every little thing.” Akiko looks devilish as she grins at Izuku, who can’t even argue that point.

            “Yeah, he’s that stupid vigilante.” Tachibana groans. “And yeah, he’s got some kind of robot in his phone and there’s a crazy girl beneath U.A. and he fought fish monsters! Guys I need help with my math homework, so can we just get this out of the way? Ruby and I have tickets to that new Yakuza movie tonight, and I can’t fail another assignment or mom is going to KILL ME!”

            “You could always borrow Izuku’s workout routine and become immortal first.” Daisuke withers under Tachibana’s glare and Izuku flops back onto the roof to deflate in peace.

            He takes it all back. Friends are ridiculous, he should have gotten plants.

            Izuku is a little bit worried about Melissa. Not that she can’t handle herself, but between dealing with Mei all the time and Bakugō’s upcoming surgery, he wonders if she couldn’t use a little more… normal. So he drops by Hatsume’s lab one day and asks if she’d like to join his friends for a study group and dinner. Melissa takes him up on the offer almost immediately, and he goes into a bit more detail so she knows what to expect.

            Being used to crazy isn’t mutually inclusive, after all, and Izuku’s little circle have their own form of normal.

            His friends don’t crowd her, other than expecting an explanation (Tachibana mutters something about All Might’s version of Eri and Izuku has to squash the need to cry) and an introduction. Melissa sits with them as they make small talk and go over homework, including math, English, and history, the worst subjects of Tachibana, Daisuke and Akiko respectively.

            As usual Izuku helps his mother prepare dinner. Eri takes to Melissa quickly, given her quiet sunshine personality and the fact that everyone else has homework, so Izuku doesn’t worry too much. He only checks every few minutes.

            “We’re ready, everyone!” Izuku cheers, snagging Eri from Melissa and directing her to the bathroom so she can wash up. Daisuke and Tachibana both cheer, Ruby smirks as she drags (singlehandedly, Izuku notices) Tachibana off the floor and onto her feet, and Akira shoots him a grateful look as she sets aside her textbook. He feels a bit bad about leaving Melissa and Akira on “tutor” duty but there’s a lot of people to feed.

            “Oh, Izuku! How has your training been going?” Melissa calls as she finds a seat around the table. Izuku blinks, then frowns and pats his chest.

            “Fine, so far. I keep forgetting I’m wearing it honestly.”

            “Do we need to up the weight again?” Melissa frowns, reminding him of the talk they had when he first asked about this particular project. Izuku shrugs.

            “I don’t think so. It’s helped a bit during my routine, but I don’t think there’s really much I can do about it these days.”

            “What kind of training is this?” Tachibana looks back and forth between them suspiciously for a moment before she starts piecing her meal together. “I thought you were taking it easy, Izuku.”

            “I am,” He pins Eri’s hair back and lays out the chopsticks they picked out for her, before following Tachibana’s lead using the little girl’s plate. “But I wanted to try this and see how it worked out.”

            “Don’t forget to take it off before we eat, Izuku.” He groans as Inko frowns at him, pointing her chopsticks as she uses her mom voice. “No training during dinner. That’s the rule!”

            “Mom we already sat down…”

            “Izuku.”

            “Alright, alright.” Izuku darts towards his bedroom, ignoring the curious looks as he does so. “I’ll be right back.”

            Safely in his bedroom, Izuku pulls off his shirt and starts unwrapping resistance bands from his chest and arms, then from his ankles. He’s managed to keep his friends in the dark about this little trick for a little while but it’s only a matter of time at this point. There’s a bit of a tremor in the apartment when he sets down the vest, but he can’t help that. When he puts his shirt back on and returns to the table, eyes lock onto him like hyenas circling a prey animal.

            Maybe hiding it was a bad idea.

            There’s a bit of yelling when everyone finds out. Apparently going about your day with an extra five hundred kilograms strapped to your body is bad for you. Izuku doesn’t bother pointing out that he’s done worse and elects to continue dinner instead of getting worked up over it. Melissa gets along swimmingly with Akira and Sokuchi, thankfully, and once everyone has left for the evening Eri quietly tells Izuku that the blonde lady is very nice. She’s still shy around strangers… It took Eri a full hour to even smile while Melissa was in the house, and she didn’t talk above a whisper.

            Izuku smiles and wraps the girl in a hug and thanks her for being brave, then chases her into the bedroom so she can start putting things away before bed.

            (No one needs to know that he spends most of the night lying awake, trying to ignore every little sound that fills his room; they don’t need to know that he only sleeps for a little while, and that his dreams are jumbled and uncertain)

            Kurobayashi-sensei seems happy. Izuku isn’t sure why, considering he’s just accepted the most dangerous teaching position ever, but Izuku is relieved. When he recommended his sensei for the supplemental instructor, he hadn’t imagined it would work. Nezu claims something about having a non-hero teacher being inspired and keeping the Anomaly situation in-house or something like that.

The principal of Izuku’s current school is less enthusiastic. Izuku got in on a scholarship, after all, and Kurobayashi-sensei is being poached just five months before the next year begins. Apologies don’t really seem to cut it against losses like that. He tries to justify it knowing that, at the very least, this school will be a little less hectic once he’s gone. 

            Izuku thinks he’s going to miss this school though. His friends- including Hanamura-senpai, Erin-senpai, even their new friend Kenshi (real name: Niijima Yuto), are all great people from what Izuku has seen. And everyone else… Leaving is going to be hard. Dividing his time between everyone will be hard.

            Well, no one he meets from the hero course will ever replace his friends. They’re hero students, and he’s just… Izuku. Lately that means a lot more than it used to, he’s just not sure exactly what yet. He’s got other people to worry about first.

            “Some villains are attacking a park near your home. Your babysitter from U.A. will be directly on that route, and possibly caught in the crossfire.” Monitor says.

            Izuku blinks and pauses, leaving one foot just above the last step. He’s so far gone that he doesn’t notice the people behind him crashing into his back (none of whom notice the fact that he doesn’t budge under the weight of two, three, five people or that his foot never creeps closer to the floor) and he completely misses Kābā cleaning up his mistake with easy smiles and claps on strange backs.

            Eventually Izuku sighs and turns to his friends, “I’ll catch up with you later.”

            Daisuke, Akira and Kābā follow him, as expected, as he makes his way back up the stairs and heads for the rooftop.

            “Yo, Izuku what’s going on? Don’t you have to get home?”

            “I am going home, there’s just…”

            “You know you don’t have time for this, right?”

            “I…” Izuku can’t really believe he’s considering this, but he’s already got his hand on the door to the roof, so he glances at the three hovering just behind him and offers up a meek smile. “I need a clear shot.”

            They’re way too excited about this. Izuku doesn’t trust himself in the first place, even with Monitor’s help, but Izuku has talked this idea over with Kābā before. At the time it seemed ridiculous and a little bit like blasphemy. Now… Well.

            “Turn… Face this direction, use just over fifty three percent power and watch your footing.”

Izuku knows that this will work. He’s seen All Might do it in videos, in person, he’s experienced this, so it’s not like he’s attempting something crazy. Sadly, there’s a large gap between “knowing” and “acting”.

“You’re hesitating. If you’re afraid, I’m sure that your neighbors won’t miss the park too much, Midoriya-kun.” Monitor says. Izuku sighs and presses his finger against the earpiece to resettle it, still not sure whether he likes the fit or not.

            Then he crouches, sets one foot in front of the other, and takes a deep breath. His body is already overclocking everything and “driving his cardiovascular system into hyperflux” (as Melissa would say).

            Izuku prefers Shatter-speed (not that he’s told anyone that because… come on, it’s kind of self-serving isn’t it?).

            After spending over a month blurring the lines between shatter-speed and normal, Izuku is used to the silence. He’s used to the feeling of his legs throbbing and swelling beneath his skin, the feeling of every single moment spent pushing his body past human limits.

            Five beats in shatter-speed is roughly five microseconds. A fraction of the time it takes lightning to strike. Millions of seconds per seconds. Thousands of moments before the human mind can even perceive that he’s not standing still.

            This is how long it takes Izuku to breathe.

            This is how long it takes him to realize he’s put just a drop too much into his next motion.

            Adjust. Breathe out…

            Leap.

            His friends haven’t blinked before Izuku is gone. They can’t comprehend the fact that he crouched, measured his jump and looked back to wave goodbye. Some part of them knows that he waved goodbye (Kābā smirks when he notices how enthralled the other two are), but they don’t actually see this side of Izuku too often anymore.

            It’s something they talk about, something they laugh and tease him about, but none of them join him on his Routine anymore, or anxiously await his return from a villain fight.

            Witnessing Izuku’s power up close is a bit different than talking about it.

            Izuku is flying. He has long enough in the air, considering he’s leaping several miles, to wonder why his eyes aren’t watering. It gets put into the “weird invulnerability bubble” theory and tossed into the back of his mind as he watches the city blur beneath his feet.

            “For your first jump, you managed to follow my directions very well. Congratulations, Midoriya-kun.” Monitor chirps. Izuku huffs, knowing that the machine can hear it, and sets his eyes on the park that is speeding into his view now. Everything draws to a halt as Izuku reenters shatter-speed and clicks his tongue at the villains who’ve decided to trash this park.

            It’s a nice park. What the hell are they thinking?

            One thing that Izuku finds mildly annoying is that he has to drop his speed so he can knock people out. Not that it’s any trouble, it’s just annoying. Kind of like stopping on the sidewalk and then having to step out of the way again to avoid someone who isn’t paying attention. Maybe a bit like going through actions in games when the outcome is already determined, and the game still takes those moments to show a loading wheel. 

            He’s not really angry. Just a bit peeved. So, he throws the villains into a pile and pushes back into shatter-speed to jump back towards his apartment building. Tremors run through his hands as he opens the door to his apartment. Luckily, his mom is in the kitchen.

            Playing dumb is a bit much, but Izuku isn’t above it. He tells his mom he’s just about to change, takes her reminder of the tutor with an awkward laugh and shoves his back against the door of his room as quickly as he can. Eri is there, of course, and she throws herself at him before he can get caught up in the way his hands are shaking. Soon enough he’s sitting on the bed watching her draw, talking about having guests and what Eri did for the day.

            Izuku doesn’t even realize he’s dreaming until Eri pokes his foot with a pencil.

            “There’s someone strange here. Momma was calling for you,” Eri says quietly, looking uncertain. Izuku offers her a lopsided grin and a hug.

            “Just someone here to help me out with school, Eri. Won’t be long, alright?” Izuku scrambles up off the bed and grimaces at his gakuran. He bumps into a few things as he hurries to change. Eri is laughing at him quietly by the time he’s thrown on some casual clothes, so he throws open the door as he’s pulling off his socks. Which turns out to be a mistake, because in his sleep addled state he falls against the wall. Throwing his socks into the ‘dirty’ bin and pulling the door shut with a quick jerk of his hand distracts him long enough that he trips on the rug. Laying on his back in the middle of the room, Izuku glances towards the kitchen with the last desperate hope that no one saw him and his mind short circuits.

            Wow.

            The first word that comes to mind plays on repeat for a moment. He’s gotten used to hanging around girls, and he’d go as far as claiming that he’d gotten over most of his awkwardness when dealing with pretty girls. Granted, every girl he hangs around is pretty.

            But… wow.

            She’s the prettiest girl he’s ever seen. Her eyes and her hair, pulled up in a fluffy ponytail, are dark as obsidian. If he had to guess he’d say she was a princess or an heiress, someone way, way too important to be tutoring him.

            This is U.A. She’s going to be his classmate. He’s wearing a shirt that says ‘Halloween Costume’.

            Fuck.

            “Uh… hi…?” He stammers.

            “Are you alright…?” The girl asks politely. Izuku’s stomach churns as he catches the air of discomfort in her tone, and he can’t really blame her. Who would want to tutor someone who went and fell over during their first meeting?

            “Oh, um, yes. Yeah. I’m fine. Just, eh… Hey, you’re Yaoyorozu-sama, right? From U.A., class 1-A?” Somehow, he dredges up the roster from his memory. He can’t really feel his arms and legs right now, so he lies on the carpet and stares up at the ange- at Yaoyorozu from the floor.

            “Y-yes… Aizawa-sensei asked me here to tutor someone?”

            “…Oh.” He mutters. This is something he was afraid of when he first realized Eraserhead would be picking his tutor. “Eraserhead-sama… Do you hate me?”

            “Not particularly.” Aizawa calls, not bothering to take his eyes from his tea. Izuku drags a hand down his face. There’s no obvious malice in that tone but, Izuku knows his type. No matter what he has to do, Aizawa is going to make Izuku work off the spite he’s built up.

            “Um, I assume you’re Midoriya-kun… and that you’re the person I’m here to tutor?” Yaoyorozu asks tentatively. 

            “…Yeah, that’s me.” Izuku groans. He allows himself a moment (only the one, mind you, he’s in the presence of high-class people…!) to lie there on the floor before he gets up and dredges up a smile. “S-so, what did you want to start with?”

            “Perhaps a review of the material you’ve been covering in school would be best?” Yaoyorozu returns his expression to a T: the tense smile, barely contained nerves, and her height makes it… a little bit worse, if he’s honest. She must be really irritated. He really, really wishes he’d made a better first impression.

            “Right… Let me just go grab my notes.”

            Kābā drops by after the tutor has left, slipping into the place he’s reserved in the Midoriya’s home as easily as breathing. Homework is piled on the kitchen table, Eri is piled in Kābā’s lap tracing characters, Izuku’s mother is tucked in her own chair with a cup of tea…

            It’s a normal night in the Midoriya house. Or at least it should be.

“I’m such an idiot.”

            “Relax Izuku, you’re fine.”

            “Kābā, you don’t understand. I FROZE.” Izuku moans.

            “Okāsan…?” Kābā grins as Inko takes a sip from her tea to hide her grin.

            “Like a deer in the headlights.” Izuku lets his head fall into the table as his mother snickers at his plight. “Ooohh, don’t worry dear, you were adorable! I’m sure she was just a little surprised… though you could have picked a different shirt.”

            “Why do all of you hate my clothes?” Izuku already knows that. Being reminded makes it so much worse.

            “I’m still shocked you snuck that in. Tachi-chan and Soku-chan haven’t found it yet?”

            “No, and you aren’t going to tell them!”

            “Fine, fine… But, look, I’m sure it’s not that bad. At least you made an impression. Most of the time you don’t even do that.”

            “Thank you. That’s very helpful.”

            “Dude calm down, you’re fine! Why are you even worked up about this?”

            “I just…” Izuku blushes so hard his ears must be steaming. Kābā has been grinning wolfishly the entire time, but now it’s particularly vicious.

            “Hmmmm?”

            “She’s a lady! This is U.A., Kābā, she’s crazy rich and I flopped around like a drunk fish!”

            “Izuku’s got a crush!”

            Izuku’s blush doesn’t fade at all that night. His mother makes sure of it, even after Kābā heads home.

            Yaoyorozu Momo is the top of class 1-A at U.A. She’s the top student of the leading hero school in the nation and one of the only students to have actually faced villains at her age. As if that weren’t enough, she’s the heir of the Yaoyorozu Conglomerate and she’s stunning.

            Izuku spends most of their second meeting blushing and staring at his notes, trying not to combust every time she leans over to check his work. Eventually, his embarrassment fades. He manages to lose himself in the work, in studying and being taught. U.A. isn’t that far ahead of his prep school courses, but he’s not exactly on their level either. It helps that Yaoyorozu is willing to answer every question he has (he has a lot).

            Monitor has apparently taken to monitoring the villain incidents in the district near Izuku’s home, which… Izuku actually appreciates. He’s solving more incidents than ever now that he can cover the entire district in minutes. Unfortunately, this means that he has to deal with the police on a regular basis again. Some of them don’t really like him that much after everything that went down in October. 

            He thinks of Kacchan, Kābā, Tachibana, Akira, of All Might, Hawks, Nezu, Aizawa… of Yaoyorozu. Izuku almost forgot what it’s like to feel unworthy. Long nights awake slowly become long nights spent stewing in hot flashes and nervous energy.

            The itch to push his limits returns with a vengeance.

            Izuku is in the kitchen when Aizawa and Yaoyorozu arrive for the fourth tutoring session. He gets up to answer the door and freezes as soon as his eyes find the tallest member of the escort. From the moment he and All Might lock eyes, something wells up in his chest and… Izuku can’t help but admit he’s torn. Part of him wants to reach out to the hero. The part of him that aches for his lost dream is much, much smaller than it was, but it’s still not quite small enough for Izuku to reach out.

            All Might is gone before anyone can say anything, muttering about patrols and bidding Izuku a good day, asking them to pass greetings to Izuku’s mother.

            Aizawa arches a single eyebrow as Izuku waves the pair inside, and Yaoyorozu looks at him curiously for the remainder of that day. Izuku doesn’t even notice until his mother brings it up that night. He tells her, because… well, he tells her just about everything. Eri bounces in his lab, breathing softly as he runs his fingers through her hair, oblivious to the frown weighing on his cheeks.

            “It’s okay if you’re not ready to forgive him yet, Izuku. People are complicated, especially when dreams and hopes get tangled up.” His mother mutters, smiling as she takes one of his hands (Eri throws her hands in too, though she doesn’t know what they’re talking about), “Sometimes it’s hard to understand a person. Even if we think we know, we might not know everything someone feels, or what they really meant. It’s hard to reach out when you’ve been hurt. Just keep trying, and maybe one of these days you’ll make it. Just… Don’t push too hard, Izuku. You’re both heroes. You’ve both done great things and made mistakes.”

            “What… What if I’m never ready, Mom…? He’s the number one hero, Mom. He’s given more than I ever could to keep people safe. What right do I have…?”

            “He made a mistake, Izuku. Even if you both know that, knowing doesn’t make your pain any less or make him any better. If you’re not ever ready to face him, then you never have to. Maybe… Maybe these kinds of things are better if you don’t worry about them. Let it heal, don’t pick at it. He hurt you, even if it’s not the same as a broken bone. I think you’ll be ready before you know it. My boy is strong like that.”

            “…I love you, mom.”

            “I love you too, Izuku. I love you the most.”

            “You can make anything?”

            “Well, as long as I have the lipid stores and it’s not alive, technically…”

            “Bu-but that would mean that you can control the materials that you make your constructs out of, you’d be calculating molecular structures on a macro-industrial level in seconds, are you pulling up those diagrams from memory or is there some sort of subconscious planning that goes into organizing that information? Aren’t you able to mix smaller compounds into the devices you’re already making? Gunpowder in bullets and canons, but you’re not just making… Wait how’d you even have enough mass to make that canon during the exam, your body is perfect… WAGH!”

            “Izuku?!

            “Midoriya-kun, how did you…?!”

            “Sorry, so-, sorry, I didn’t, I wasn’t thinking…!”

            “It’s been months since you broke a table, Izuku! We were doing so well!”

            “Sorry mom…! Um, exc, excu- ‘scuse me, Yaoyorozu-san…”

            “Midoriya-san…?”

            “Oh, don’t worry about it Momo-san, we’ll take care of this. He’s usually much more mindful of his strength, honestly. I’m sure he’ll be a bit embarrassed when he’s done cleaning up. Do you want another cup of tea? I’ll move your things into the living room, you two take the couch…”

            Hatsume’s workshop cleans up rather nicely. The maze of scraps is gone, replaced by hallways running between giant black containers. Each one has a door and a code written on the wall in gold and neon pink. Machines wander the hallways politely as any human, introducing themselves to anyone they find. Occasionally, the layout is changed by the gigantic metal limbs roaming the scaffolding that hangs overhead.

            When Izuku finally reaches Hatsume’s workstation, he frowns. The floor (that giant panel of pink light that he’s been ignoring for almost a month) is lifted into the air. He didn’t notice on his way because the containers and the rooms mounted above the scaffolding throw his compass off. After a moment to drink it in, he jumps and grabs the lip of the workstation, then hauls himself up.

            “Mei-san? Melissa-san?”

            “Over here!”

            Izuku yelps as a wall of white, green and blue characters waves at him. His eyes widen as the mess of lights dissembles itself, leaving a revolving cylinder of projected text and components surrounding a downright giddy Melissa.

            “That’s…”

            “Holograms! Interactive holograms!” Mei calls from her chair. She’s hanging a few meters overhead running her hands over a monitor that has to be over two square meters. There are four keyboards in her interface now, Izuku notes. Her hands fly over the keys at ludicrous speeds. “We’ve been working on this system for a while, but it’s finally up and running! The entire lab is going to have access to this tech!”

            “You always manage to surprise me…” Izuku laughs quietly. He still doesn’t like Mei’s obsession with black metal arms or the innate, bottomless well of sass built into Monitor, but he’s gotten closer to Mei than he thought he could.

            “Oh, look at this! Initialize project M twenty-four dash zero two!” Melissa calls. Izuku’s eyes bug out of his skull as a manila folder full of colorful pages appears in her hands. She bounces it a bit to show off the fact that the folder bends just like a real one might, then opens the folder and waves a hand over the images. The two of them are instantly wreathed in impossibly thin windows of light, and Izuku…

            A green and black suit covers Izuku’s street clothes, complete with a white cape and red gloves and boots.

            “We’ve been going over the design lately, but this is what we were thinking for your hero outfit!” Melissa walks around him slowly, tapping windows and checking numbers that Izuku can’t even guess at. He’s too busy staring at… all of it.

            “You guys made me a hero outfit?” He whispers. Melissa stops in front of him with a bounce and a genuine smile.

            “Of course, Izuku-kun. You’re going to transfer into U.A., right? Every hero needs a costume.”

            “It’s just like you wanted!” Mei shouts, turning her bubble so that she can see them with a tilt of her head. “Green and nondescript! Well, except the cape.”

            “You need the cape.” Melissa nods solemnly.

            “Do I really…?” Izuku chuckles as they both confirm that he needs the cape. “Okay, this is… you guys really outdid yourselves. This is amazing.”

            “Bow before mankind’s greatest inventors!” Mei cackles. Izuku flinches a bit at the sound, and Melissa giggles before the file collapses with a wave of her hand.

            “You said you wanted to train, right? We’ve already asked Togata-senpai to come down, so he’ll be here in around an hour. Monitor-san, can you prepare the room?” Melissa calls. Izuku turns, watching with a slight frown as the largest portion of the ceiling descends from the rest. “Oh, we did upgrade it some, Izuku-kun. You’ll have access to the holograms inside the Gauntlet now.”

            “That’s… Thanks, Melissa-san.” Izuku rolls his neck as the Gauntlet finishes descending. “I think I’ll take you up on that.”

            “Let’s call it a day, my boy.”

            Mirio huffs as he straightens up and breathes deep. Sir is in the corner watching them carefully, holding a pair of seals at the ready. Both Mirio and All Might have learned to keep an eye on those seals over the last few weeks. Not even the speed boost from One for All can counter Sir’s accuracy.

            “That works, I’m supposed to meet Midoriya-kun down in the lab.” Mirio’s knuckles rap against All Might’s fist as he jogs towards the door. “Thanks for the training today, All Might!”

            A faint yelp from All Might is drowned out by the sound of the door slamming shut. Mirio knows better than to stick around for the argument following that little declaration, especially since Sir has been in a mood lately. Even in the face of Sir’s attitude, though, Mirio wants to be friends with Midoriya. It’s nice having friends who are in on the secret.

            Well, he’d be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy Hatsume’s insanity just a little bit.

            There’s always something going on in the lab.

            He slips into the elevator and uses the hem of his shirt to wipe his brow. It takes nearly five minutes to reach the bottom, but the sight is always awe-inspiring. The newest addition to the lab is the raised platform on the left side of the lab. Mirio can’t tell exactly, but it’s somewhere between two or three stories tall now. Once he makes it over to the corner nearest the elevator, an elevator brings him the rest of the way up to the holo-floor.

            “Yo!”

            “Oh, Mirio-san! Perfect timing!” Melissa grins and waves at him from her chair. Both of the girls are hovering above the holo-floor, aimed in the direction of a lowered container made from glass and black metal. Nothing in the lab is made from such simple materials, but Mirio has long since given up trying to understand what Hatsume is really after. Her machines and her inventions have broken every dimension of “possible” he had left after meeting Midoriya.

            “Is that…?”

            “Yep! The new and improved Gauntlet!” Hatsume cackles. Mirio blinks as her fingers fly across the keyboard too quickly to comprehend, then turns back to the “container”.

            The Gauntlet is roughly one and a half times the size of a standard Japanese football field. A single entrance exists at one end, reinforced twice as many times as the rest of the box. Clear plastic-glass like walls are reinforced with Hatsume’s black metal on the corners and the sides. It’s much nicer than the original Gauntlet, which was nearly destroyed in a training bout two weeks ago. Mirio can see Midoriya already in the box, pushing himself up and down while balancing his weight on a couple fingers. 

            “He’s already inside so please go ahead! I’ll pull a platform over for you.” Melissa says. Mirio thanks her and steps onto the platform that lowers from the ceiling, and slowly he’s brought over to the Gauntlet’s airlock.

It’s human, Mirio thinks, to believe that he’s reached some sort of pinnacle. He’s being trained by the greatest hero in Japan, if not the entire world, and his mentor can see the future. Training has always been hell, but he’s spent the past two years learning that there is always a deeper, more horrific way to improve.

            First it was Nighteye’s training to get Mirio’s quirk under control.

            Next it was training just to receive One for All.

            After receiving the power, both Nighteye and All Might collaborated to turn Mirio’s days into a hellish regime of non-stop training that pushed his body beyond the natural limit of “healthy”. Mirio isn’t one to complain. Both of his mentors are kind people and they mean well. He carries the fate of the world in his hands. They have every right to be… micromanaging.

            But some part of him had imagined that holding One for All, training with All Might… some tiny part of him wanted to boast that this was the peak of the food chain. No one would be stronger than Mirio, even if he wanted to be humble.

            He was wrong. So, SO wrong.

            The first time he saw Midoriya in action, he realized that trying to imagine a “pinnacle” was pointless. Someone out there would always come around to push the limits. If not someone close at hand, someone from the next generation.

            Midoriya is quirkless. This only proves Mirio’s point, but it also breaks a lot of what Mirio held to be right and true in the world. Something in the way Midoriya carries himself says that the boy knows he has that effect on people. He doesn’t seem used to it, simply resigned.

            One look at his training regimen made Mirio want to puke. It sent chills and aches and hot flashes through him just thinking of it. He hadn’t believed anyone could do it.

            Midoriya finished it in less than an hour and asked for seconds.

            Even now, after weeks of training together, Mirio can’t help but stop and stare at his kouhai. Midoriya is cut to extremes that shouldn’t be possible. The eye drags across bulging muscle like fingers dragging across sandstone, catching on every jagged peak of muscle that stands out from his stomach. Stray beads of sweat roll down the boy’s legs, chest and face to drip onto the floor beneath him, running over closed…

            Mirio blinks and stops in his tracks.

            Midoriya is balanced on three fingers (pointer, thumb and middle) from each hand doing handstand push-ups with his eyes closed. His form wavers occasionally, but the tremors are slight. Every inch of the boy’s skin is drawn tight to contain the bulging muscles underneath.

            All Might is a giant made entirely of muscle when he uses One for All. Mirio thought that he, and Sir of course, were incredibly fit people. He can’t help but feel a bit chubby looking at Midoriya Izuku when he’s shirtless.

            “Hey, senpai.” Midoriya doesn’t blink. The words are soft and sudden enough that Mirio jumps as Midoriya finishes his current lift. He manages to force a smile as Midoriya raises a hand and lowers his body so that his curls scrape the floor, then pushes.

            Mirio swallows as the boy lands on his feet and looks at the ceiling.

            “Time!”

            “Forty-two minutes and thirty-seven seconds. You beat your personal record in just about everything.” Monitor’s voice fills the chamber as rings of light surround Midoriya. The boy frowns a bit, then yanks his shirt off the arm that extends to meet him. It’s one of the things that Mirio can’t help but notice about Midoriya’s character: His first instincts are dedicated to hiding his abilities and saving others.

            There’s something dark in his eyes today.

            Mirio shudders behind his ever-present grin.

            “I know All Might and Sir give me some crazy routines but yours still beats me up every time. Even when I add the weight-lifting you tacked on…” The pair share a high five as Midoriya frowns and scrubs the back of his head.

            “You game for a spar, senpai?”

            “Sure!” He grins, then jogs to the other side of the room and starts stretching. One for All rolls through him casually, leaving golden lightning arcing across his body parts as the two of them prepare.

            Mirio’s quirks are like muscles. Using them can be as easy as breathing, but it takes focus and mental effort. Sometimes he still gets them mixed up with other muscles, because using them isn’t like ‘flexing’. “Permeation” feels like vertigo, but he has to ‘flex’ it in the right areas to make it work. “One for All” feels like hot rain under his skin. It took time to learn how to pull it out and run it through his entire body, longer still to get the threshold down. His first quirk doesn’t have the same ‘in-between’s that One for All does.

            Thinking in terms of “first and second quirk” is still alien. It feels wrong on all sorts of levels. Mirio wonders if Midoriya feels this way about his power.

            Across the Gauntlet, Midoriya stretches casually. The shadow Mirio saw in his eyes is gone now, replaced by apathy. Never in the past month has Midoriya gone all out against him. It’s frustrating but necessary, apparently. Midoriya went toe to toe with All Might at ninety percent of One for All a few months back.

            Who knows what he’s like now?

            One for All burns as Mirio pushes his body to the limit. His muscles bulge under the excess power flooding them, and lightning dances over his frame to show off his power. Midoriya bounces on his toes as Mirio pushes off and leaps forward.

            The world goes dark as Mirio hits the floor and sinks.

            There’s no sound here. No light, not even the playful shapes that dance in the caverns of his eye. No breath, no pulse.

            This is true, complete isolation.

            The only thing that waits for Mirio here is a desperate need to breathe.

            It terrifies him.

            He flies from the ground with a fist cocked back, grinning as he swings for Midoriya’s stomach and finds empty air. A flash of green darts backward, then off the wall to Mirio’s right. Jumping off his leading foot drags the rest of Mirio’s body from the floor and catapults him towards the wall. Midoriya touches down somewhere near the middle of the room just before Mirio swings, unleashing a blast of air pressure that would knock anyone else off their feet.

            The boy’s clothes flap in the wind, but he barely shifts his core at all.

            Mirio’s feet touch the wall. His muscles burn as he leaps, covering half the Gauntlet in a bound and reaching out to grab Midoriya by the shoulder. His fingers close on empty air.

            He didn’t really expect much else.

            For a half hour, Midoriya leads Mirio in a merry chase around the Gauntlet. Normally Mirio would be having the time of his life, but something in his gut tells him that today isn’t like other days. Any other day, Midoriya would be putting on a show. He’s always made a point of keeping himself on Mirio’s level and fighting fairly.

            None of that sportsmanship is left, apparently. Midoriya skips away from Mirio’s latest grab with his hands in his pockets. Sure, his eyes are locked on Mirio, simmering with that elusive something that Mirio can’t place, but he never makes any move to attack. He makes it seem as though touching the ground at all is boring.

            To him, it probably is.

            He slides around Mirio’s punches casually, never taking breaking eye contact. Mirio’s body groans as One for All boils over to forty percent. Every punch kicks up dust and every leap launches them into the air.

            When Mirio’s fist finally lands, he tumbles forward and rolls end over end. Midoriya is standing on the other side of the arena, despite the fact that Mirio is absolutely certain he was about to close in on the boy.

            “I think that’s probably good for today, senpai.” Midoriya scratches the back of his head as Monitor’s rings surround him. Mirio just holds up a thumb and laughs. He drags himself up and sits against the wall of the Gauntlet, watching Midoriya eye the numbers on the rings and frown a bit more.

            Inadequate. Mirio blinks as the word comes to him. Midoriya feels useless. He’s just like I was without Sir.

            The thought is ridiculous. Midoriya is the strongest person on the planet, arguably, and he’s got a ton of friends. But the evidence is right there, and Mirio can’t help but frown as he sees Midoriya’s fists clenching at his sides.

            We’ve all got moments when we feel like we aren’t good enough! What’s important is that we use those moments as fuel to get better Tamaki-kun!

            Mirio grins as he thinks of his friend. Amajiki isn’t like Midoriya. The boy is almost like a crazy mix of all the Big Three, if that was possible. He’s a great person! Even if great people sometimes feel down or feel like they didn’t do well enough, there’s nothing a person can’t overcome if they truly put their all into it.

            But… What could possibly have Midoriya feeling anxious?

            “Monitor, reinforce the Gauntlet as much as possible.”

            “Oh, are you going to give us a show?” The arms whir outside the Gauntlet and the far end of the box is nearly black by the time Monitor has finished supporting the structure as much as the workshop can. Mirio scrambles to his feet with a bit less grace than usual and yanks on One for All. He’s already at the airlock by the time the arms have come down to support the box.

            “Focus everything you’ve got on this. Maybe angle the Gauntlet a bit too.” Midoriya mutters, opening and closing his fist a few times as he slides his feet into position. “I’m pretty sure Nezu will want the data.”

            A current of ice runs from Mirio’s stomach and coils around his spine until it runs shards of ice across his mind. This isn’t terror, really. Mirio has been afraid, he knows what terror and menace are. Never once has he been afraid of Midoriya.

            This is something primal. An instinct demanding flight. His heartbeat thunders in his ears as the Gauntlet shifts and Midoriya’s body tightens like a spring. Mirio curls in on himself and prays as he drowns in panic.

            Deep beneath U.A., a dragon yawns.

            “Nezu-san, please disregard that explosion near ground Alpha. I’ll send you the file shortly.”

            “Please do. What was Hatsume testing this time?”

            “That was Midoriya-kun, actually. Also, I’ve wired ten thousand yen to your account as per our bet.”

            “Ah,” Nezu chuckles as he pulls up feed of the explosion, revealing a large portion of the campus shredded and a gaping hole in the grounds. “I suppose he’s been a bit stressed lately, hasn’t he?”

            “He refuses to acknowledge that fact. Are all teenagers so confusing?”

            “My dear Monitor, humans are like that.”

            It’s been a week since Yaoyorozu came, and Izuku is sitting at his desk late on a Thursday night when Eri crawls up into his lap. She’s cradling one of the few toys she’s been unable to resist, a stuffed green rabbit. After a few minutes Izuku puts down his pencil and hugs her.

            “What’s up, Eri?”

            “…Is that tall lady coming back?”

            “Hmm? Yeah, once exams are over.” Izuku grins as he spins them in the chair and wiggles Eri back and forth. “Were you peeking again?”

            “Mmm!” She squeals and laughs when he tickles her, and eventually he gets a face full of stuffed rabbit while she throws herself onto the bed. He sighs and throws the rabbit at the little mole hill, then leans his cheek against his hand and smirks at the little ruby eye peering out from underneath.

            “Yaoyorozu-san is really nice. Would you like to meet her next time?”

            The hill shakes once after a moment and Izuku beams in response.

            Early January comes faster than Izuku thought it would. A few days after New Year’s, he finds his entire family unit taking the elevator up to meet with Principal Nezu, joined by Melissa-san. His mother and Melissa are busy catching up while Izuku prays that this is just more paperwork.

            He really, really hopes it’s just more paperwork.

            Nezu greets them, along with Kurobayashi-sensei, All Might, Eraserhead and Vlad-King. Seeing the entire line up in the room is impressive and intimidating. Vlad-King seems a bit miffed, All Might is skinny, and Kurobayashi-sensei is… well. He’s in good company, despite being the nicest one in the room.

            Eri is in Izuku’s arms the moment the elevator opens, though her eyes widen when she sees Kurobayashi-sensei.

            “Same…!” The teachers share a confused look when Kurobayashi-sensei chuckles and waves back. Izuku grins and lets the women takes their seats before finding one beside his teacher. As soon as he’s in his chair, Eri is turned around so that she can wave at Kurobayashi-sensei some more.

            “Thank you all for coming!” Nezu calls, drawing their attention towards his chair. “I’ve come upon a bit of a stumbling point, and I’d like to make some things official, if I may. If you’ll agree to the terms, that is.”

            Fuck. Izuku almost thought he had a chance.

            “I’m not sure the rest of us are on the same page, Principal-sama.” Inko mutters, looking polite and confused as her eyes wander the room. “I thought we had filled out all the paperwork for Izuku’s transfer…?”

            “You did! Fabulously, I say, but that isn’t why you’re here, Midoriya-san. I asked you here because I’ve got a proposition.” Nezu leaps to the floor and wanders towards them, stopping to run an eye across Kurobayashi-sensei and the rest. “I’d like to add Melissa Shield to the S-Course roster, and have her room with the students, first of all. We’ve approved you support transfer, but the fact is that you’ve been working with Hatsume-san for so long that your work is already above and beyond most professionals, let alone student level designs.”

            “I… Of course, I accept.” Melissa says, frantically glancing between the principal and the coughing fit that’s suddenly grabbed All Might by the throat.

            Izuku isn’t surprised by this, really. This he saw coming. But…

            “While we’re discussing the S-Course,” Nezu turns to the others and grins, settling his eyes on Izuku like a hawk begging for a reaction. “I’ve been informed that I’m very much understaffed! While splitting the teaching between Togata-kun, Aizawa-kun, and All Might, I’ve neglected to appoint a homeroom teacher or a counselor for the S-Course. Normally these students would be subject to the same authority as everyone else but that just won’t do when it comes to Anomalies, in my opinion.”

            “B-but Kurobayashi-sensei…!” Izuku falls silent as the rat’s grin widens.

            “Exactly! A homeroom teacher, one familiar with the anomalies and the odd types of training they might require, as well as someone who students can look up to. A powerful, well spoken individual, Kurobayashi-san. But I still need someone to mind the S-Course dorms! Not necessarily a counselor, so to speak, but someone familiar with the anomalies and all their quirks.”

            Did he just…? Izuku’s eyebrow twitches violently.

            “Midoriya-san, you happen to be everything I’m looking for. And I’m prepared to offer a very considerate paycheck, as well as living arrangements on campus and an advance in the event that you and your son leave this academy.” Nezu’s eyes glint as he looks up at Inko.

            The room remains dead silent as Inko blinks owlishly. Eri turns her head from person to person, keeping a strong grip on Izuku’s shirt as they all stare at the principal.

            “You want me to take care of Izuku and everyone else? You want me to be a teacher?”

            “Not a teacher, exactly. You and Kurobayashi-san would share the duties of homeroom teacher and live in the dorm with the S-Course, but you would only be required to keep an eye on the students and call us if there were any issues.” Nezu takes his chair again and folds his paws together, staring at everyone in the room equally, somehow. “As much as I hate to admit it, you’re the only one who’s been emotionally involved with an Anomaly for long enough to understand the type of dangers this evolution brings to a person’s life. No one in my staff is prepared for a spontaneous evolution beyond a person’s quirk, especially not when that person is already under immense pressure. Sure, we have counselors, heroes, teachers, but there is a gap between quirk and heroics counseling and what Midoriya-kun has gone through.”

            Sadly, Izuku couldn’t argue with the logic. No one could.

            “This is sudden, I understand. But it also takes into account Eri-chan’s situation,” Nezu wasn’t being malicious, but Izuku couldn’t help but feel as if the principal just put him in Check. “And the inclusion of your son and Bakugō-kun in the new program. You won’t have any teaching duties unless you decide to receive a teaching degree, which I would sponsor, of course, and you wouldn’t be required to do anything other than live in and maintain the students while they lived in the dorm. You’ll be protected and given a direct line to me and all other teachers. Given that your son is under your supervision I can’t say that I’m entirely comfortable with the arrangement, but it does seem the best fit unless we want to involve more people.”

            “Well… After hearing all that, how could I refuse?” Inko grins, looking very tired suddenly, and Izuku’s brain suddenly catches a piece of information buried in the rubble of Nezu’s treachery.

            “W-wait… Bakugō…?”

            “Of course!”

            “The dorms won’t last a month…” Izuku let his head drop into his hands.

            “While we’re talking about keeping the anomaly situation in house, I’ve also sent scholarship offers to your friends, Midoriya-kun. Monitor provided me with their information.”

            After sending Eri and his mother home, Izuku collapses in a corner of the elevator and wallows. Melissa pats his shoulder occasionally, but he’s mostly numb to it.

            He loves his mother, and his friends.

            He really didn’t want to drag them into his mess again.

            The chime signaling their arrival at Mei’s lab rings and Izuku drags himself from the elevator’s floor, following Melissa into the labyrinth.

            “Why am I here…?”

            “Well, I thought we should probably get this out of the way before school starts…”

            “Get what out of the way?”

            “That project Mei and I have been working on is finished.” Melissa flashed a smile over her shoulder. “You were so curious before, remember?”

            “That thing under the tarp from last chapter?”

            “From when?”

            “Last month.”

            “Yep, that one. Did you say…?”

            “Don’t worry about it. So, what’s this special project?”

            “I think you should see it for yourself.” Melissa skips a couple steps ahead, stealing the elevator and leaving Izuku to jump up onto Mei’s lab platform. The pink is softer than normal, so soft that Izuku can barely track the light coming off the panels. Everything in the room is like that, though. None of the light has any real source, it simply fills the room. He stopped questioning that a long time ago.

            Izuku frowns as Melissa grins and runs across the platform. Near Monitor’s wall is a new desk, and to Izuku’s surprise someone is sitting at the chair while Mei works frantically on the other side of the desk. The holograms move in so many different directions that Izuku can’t help feeling dizzy after a second.

            “Who’s the new…” Izuku trails off as the chair turns around and a pair of crisp blue lights peer at him from a mask shaped vaguely like a human face. Machines twitch beneath the cracks in the face, revealing the truth as the being stands and walks over to meet Melissa.

            “Mama! Mother didn’t tell me you were coming.” A girlish voice squeals.

            “No, please…” Izuku shakes his head and takes a step back as Melissa crouches and hugs the half-formed android, ignoring the golden hairs caught in the joints of the robotic hands.

            “Hmmm? Melissa, you’re back! Who’s that?”

            Izuku spins as Mei’s chair descends from the ceiling and the holograms shift, revealing a second Hatsume made from silver and black metal sitting in the chair. Melissa’s voice calls out from over his shoulder as he freezes under the machine’s golden eyes.

            “Izuku, meet Mei-I. She’s an artificial Mei developed from Mei’s neural nets. Mei-I, this is Midoriya Izuku-kun.”

            “He’s our brother!”

            “BROTHER!”

            “What the F…!”

Chapter Text

            Part Two: Evolution

            Chpt 13: Brimstone Baptism

            Katsuki’s arms are supposed to be hot. Even when he was missing his right arm, the shoulder was warm to the touch, itching to fly despite his missing wing. His new arm is ice cold against his scarred shoulder. Not cold enough to hurt but just enough to remind him that it isn’t real. Sure, he can move it like his old one (he’s not sure how the Doc pulled that off) but it’s just not the same.

            His left arm itches if he gets too warm, warning him to be careful what he touches.

            His right arm growls.

            After a week or two studying the schematics, Katsuki knows the damn thing inside and out. Whoever designed the arm is a goddamn psycho, but they know how to make weapons. His forearm is basically a nozzle to direct the twin engines in his bicep. Exhaust ports poke out from just above his elbow and along the forearm. Gadgets fill his hand to support him in combat. The only things he can’t quite understand are 1: the chemical make-up of the metal and 2: what the hell goes into the fuel cartridges. But that’s not really important as long as the Doc keeps him stocked up.

            Common sense tells him that two engines and a ton of synthetic nerves should be bigger. His prosthetic isn’t much larger than his flesh and blood arm. The shoulder is a bulb attached to a metal collar bolted and sewn into his shoulder. Altogether the length of metal and wire is designed to emulate a human arm, though it’s a little larger than human muscles. Joints made of black metal spheres and studded metal hide circuits tuned so well they rival the real ones.

            Katsuki is a little worried about the power level, though he’s not going to tell anyone that. He’s still not sold on this whole “anomaly” bullshit the Doc keeps spewing.

            They told him it was supposed to take him six months of rehab to get used to the arm, that he might be able to head back to U.A. after the summer if he sat out of the practical courses until his third year.

            He told the Doc to go fuck herself and finished rehab AND training in two months.

            Well… he didn’t tell the Doc that.

            He told OTHER doctors that. Doc got off easy. She has a brain, apparently. One of the idiots from the hospital let it slip that his arm is a medical marvel (or some shit) and that the Doc helped design it.

            Katsuki doesn’t particularly care about any of that.

            First, he has to deal with this fucking announcement from Nezu, then he has to move his shit into the new dorm and THEN go through orientation. AGAIN.

            THEN he has to find Deku.

            Everything goes back to Deku. Anything green brings the nerd to mind. Lately he finds himself running his left hand along the length of his right arm whenever the nerd comes to mind. The cold metal warms a bit when he thinks of chasing Deku down.

            His right arm hums beneath the sleeve of his coat. The engines shudder a bit, sending a shiver down the length of black metal and synthetic nerves. It falls asleep easily, sewn into his shoulder but not truly his quite yet. Some part of him thinks these feelings shouldn’t be so visceral, but the arm feels more alive than Katsuki’s skin.

            Real or not, the arm yanks at the bit like a stallion refusing to be tamed.

            Katsuki’s hands clench, both flesh and steel, and he grinds his teeth as he bites back a growl of his own. He does his best to ignore the ripple in the engines and tells himself the damn thing isn’t laughing at him.

            It’s been a while since Izuku slept well. He wakes up a little bit late, yawning as he tries to roll out of the insanely fluffy mattress. Moving around casually is difficult for a number of reasons but Eri sleeping on his shoulder is a constant reminder to keep his power output on the lowest setting. Every moment he struggles against the fluffy swamp makes the urge to sleep in grow more urgent, but eventually he makes it out.

            His new room is overly large. Even with all his belongings it was barren and kind of sad to look at. Eri, luckily, multiplied everything by two. Izuku’s desk and bookshelves are pushed against the far wall of the room, separated by the window, and Izuku’s bars and weights are collapsed or racked against the wall. Dressers stand against the wall on the other side of the bed, end to end thanks to the size of the room, and Eri claimed the space beside the bed as her playscape. Pictures cover the walls, Kābā’s and Eri’s artworks and the little girl’s favorite posters and such. The room has just enough life to fill it, despite being nearly the size of their old living room.

            Everything in the S-class dorm is massive. Twice or three times the size of the other dorms. Nezu apparently gave them leeway due to the nature of the students who were moving in and the nature of the materials. Mei and Melissa had gone overboard. No one stopped them, much to Izuku’s disappointment amusement. 

            Izuku isn’t sure how much he likes the size. Brushing his teeth alone in a massive communal bathroom feels odd. The place doesn’t feel empty, exactly. Walking from the tile bathroom into the hallway feels like traversing a hotel (intricate tile patterns to thin carpet and copy paste walls) but the rooms themselves feel like an alien mix of culture, science and nostalgia.

            The rooms have a nicer carpet than the hallway at least, though it’s still kind of thin. King size beds and desks don’t take up much space, but Izuku’s room is pleasantly half full. Everything in individual rooms is customizable to the extreme, including the colors and the time and the accessibility. Just setting his security after moving in had taken nearly two hours, and after that he’d had to choose a changing color scheme that Eri enjoyed for the walls.

            Currently, the walls are a dark green that Izuku really likes.    

Because he has a ward, Izuku’s dorm is on the first floor. He wanders past the elevators and the stairs as he heads into the sitting room. This room, unlike the rest, feels dead when he’s the only one in it. Maybe it’s because of the sheer size of everything, from the vaulted ceilings to the ridiculously large couches (everything was scaled up) or maybe it’s the lack of decorations. No furniture, save for couches and chairs, exist in this part of the building thanks (?) to Mei and Melissa’s genius. Instead of tables or cabinets, the floor panels rise to fill the space wherever the tenants want them. Unfortunately, the floors are black, and while they aren’t exactly cold it makes the sitting room feel that way.

            (Izuku is already looking for coffee tables and a dining room table; he’s just not comfortable with how empty the space is without real furniture)

Light doesn’t come from any exact source in the S-class dorm. It seems to bleed from the ceiling and the molding and the mirrors. Early in the morning the lights are just bright enough to guide or to keep people safe, never bright enough to disturb others. The walls are some kind of synthetic, though they’re warmer than the metal and nearly as tough.

            Now that Izuku is reaching for the cabinets, the room lights up a little more and he eventually finds himself a reasonable meal. The kitchen was spared from Mei’s eccentricity, though everything is built to an efficiency that blew some of the more fragile minds.

            Eventually, with a half full belly and his new uniform mostly put together, Izuku starts towards the doors and the assembly that’s supposed to introduce the S-class (more specifically Mei and Izuku) to the rest of U.A.

            On the outside the dorms are all made from Mei’s black metal and some kind of special polymer for the windows. The buildings are next to indestructible (unless Izuku decides to sneeze and wipe them off the map) so Izuku’s thinks that Nezu let the S-class go overboard as thanks or something. Someone decided to call them Height’s Alliance, of all things. Izuku isn’t sure about that one. But the gigantic “S-class” hanging over “Alliance” bothers him more than the name. He doesn’t like the idea of letting everyone know what he is. Old habits die hard.

            Unfortunately, Monitor has control over the S-class dorm. The AI won’t do anything petty (Izuku made sure to ask) but living inside a sentient building is worrying. On the plus side, Mei’s holographic projection tech fills the entire dorm. Being able to pull up data and video projections with waves of a hand is far easier than having a television (projections aren’t breakable in the same sense) and Izuku can’t wait to do homework with all his notes floating around him.

            Not even the pictures of his reaction can dim his enthusiasm at the unlimited note taking ability he now possesses. 

            Heh. Unlimited notes. Like... Izuku smirks as he hops down the stairs and slides into the remaining arm of his blazer.  He freezes as he looks down the path and sees a familiar face dressed in the same uniform. Green eyes widen as red narrow. Twin suitcases hit the concrete a moment later, and Izuku can’t help sweating as a shrill whine fills the air.

            “DEKU!”

            “Oh, um, hey…” Izuku trails off as Bakugō’s left sleeve evaporates and his shirt blows apart. For a moment, Izuku watches flames bloom in the upper arm of Bakugō’s prosthetic. Heat spreads from the elbow in a haze, killing the grass around the owner as it falls to the ground. Black metal turns blue, almost white in the middle of the forearm as the blasts are channeled down to the hand. When Izuku blinks, Bakugō is flying towards him on a pair of twin explosions with bared teeth.

            Momo frowns as she looks around the crowd. She woke up nervous, slave to some foreign energy running through the campus, and she’s not sure if she should be glad everyone else feels the same or if that should worry her. Her problem isn’t that she’s worried. There’s plenty of reason to be worried.

            Getting a sudden influx of new students (that’s a rumor, one that Momo has yet to confirm) is definitely strange. Moving into the dorms last week was a spectacle, of course. Having an assembly isn’t odd, but having a new teacher introduced alongside two new teaching assistants is definitely news.

            Seeing Midoriya-san on the stage between a shark and a rail thin blonde man (who dwarfs even the shark, somehow) is shocking, plain and simple. Returning the woman’s wave sends a ripple of whispers through Momo’s classmates, though Momo is too confused to care.

            “Now that I’ve introduced our new teachers, and we’ve discussed the dorms, it’s time to address the rumors that have begun circulating.” Nezu calls, bringing just about every student to attention at once. “U.A. as a whole was built to create the greatest heroes and citizens we possibly can, within the scope of our abilities as heroes. This past year has been turbulent and scary to you students, no doubt. Some of our own suffered, and so we created the dorms to better protect you all. While the villain attacks and the strange invasions began this past year, there is something else you should know. Something that no one save for the highest authority of our country have been informed of, so far.

            “While we accept quirks to be an evolution of mankind, and we base our society on quirks, something new has been discovered. A few individuals awoke new powers last year. Powers that, as of yet, are far beyond quirks and beyond common sense. Studying these powers has been a priority for us, but study has proved to be slow. In the interest of public safety, we have decided that U.A. must adapt now. Luckily for us, a few of these individuals have already stepped up to defend the public from any villains who might be beyond our current capabilities.”

            But… No, it couldn’t be…?

            “It is with great pride that I reveal U.A.’s S-class, a place for Anomalies to train and prepare for a future in heroics! I present our new students, the upper echelon of U.A. high!”

            Momo frowns as she looks up at the stage. A girl with pink dreadlocks is bouncing on her feet, running her eyes through the crowd as she daydreams. Beside her is a student with long blonde hair and blue eyes, and Togata-senpai, the third year who’d defeated her class before their license exams, of all people. The look of confusion on Midoriya-san’s face all but confirms Momo’s fears that Midoriya might be part of this strange new “S-class”.

            “Well, there are two other students who are supposed to be here, but they appear to be running late…”

            The ground shudders underfoot, stirring the crowd’s anxiety.

            “Greetings, students.” Momo’s eyes widen as a foreign male voice suddenly takes over the speakers onstage. “My apologies for interrupting, but I’ve been asked to evacuate these proceedings. Nezu-san, please hurry and clear the area. The new anomaly has a rather heated grudge against Midoriya-kun.”

            Momo’s eyes widen as the ground trembles again. Before she can do anything, the heroes are flooding the assembly and starting to direct them. She catches Midoriya-san joining the blonde-haired S-class girl and notices Togata-senpai frowning, staring off towards…

            He disappears in a flicker of white lightning, and Momo is being dragged off by her classmates as the stage is blow to smithereens.

            Katsuki’s arm howls and kicks as the ground caves under a blast.

            For a moment he’s concerned for the other students, but the heroes are there. Plus, that weird third year who can phase through shit is flying through the crowd wreathed in lightning. The heroes and students all move like lazy cattle, save for some pink-haired chick and the phase-fucker. Once he’s sure that there’s enough support, his eyes narrow in on Deku.

            “Kacchan, PLEASE! This isn’t the time!” Deku coughs. He’s managed to avoid every blast so far, and it’s driving Katsuki a bit crazy. Nothing puts a scratch on the nerd. Flames don’t even singe his uniform.

            Fuck is that about?

            “Fucking FIGHT ME!”

            “People are going to get hurt, Kacchan!”

            “Save ‘em then!” Katsuki growls and braces as he pushes his quirk into the engines. His left-hand bubbles with barely-suppressed explosions, held just in check while his right spins up for another blast.

            Deku won’t start anything. Katsuki has to force him.

            Fucking fine.

            His arm shudders and growls happily.

            Katsuki flies through the smoke, blasting it out of the way and kicking up a halo of debris as he destroys the ground behind him. Deku’s eyes widen as the nerd slips to the left, trying to stay in what should be Katsuki’s blind spot. Something feral in Katsuki’s chest burns hot as his left-hand twists and blooms.

            At this point his blood is magma. His right arm is a star’s fury sheathed in steel and his left is scorched flesh cradling molten lightning. The exhaust from his prosthetic kicks out jets of yellow and orange flame like a pair of wings at his elbow. Everything in front of him goes white and his feet dig trenches a meter long before the flames die.

            Katsuki grins as his right arm groans. The left isn’t much better, shaking the way it is. He can feel his body throbbing faintly, but there’s too much adrenaline right now.

            “Young Bakugō, what do you think you’re doing?!” All Might is here. His landing blasts the dust out of Katsuki’s eyes, exposing the extent of Katsuki’s rampage to everyone on the edge of the scene.

            “I’m…” The words die in Katsuki’s throat as he turns to face the hero. Standing behind All Might is Deku, completely unscathed, coughing and waving to clear the dust from his face. Katsuki’s eyes widen painfully as he traces the ground at Deku’s feet, following the edge of the crater where they’d first landed. Nothing beyond Deku is even scorched, let alone scathed. Heroes and students stand behind him, running from the destruction or gawking at the display.

            “Bakugō-kun,”

            “All Might!” Deku calls.

            Katsuki’s eyebrow twitches as the two of them share some kind of… talk. It’s silent, but there are emotions playing out clearly. Both of them are uncomfortable, sad, hesitant. After a moment, All Might steps down.

            Katsuki’s brain shuts down entirely.

            All Might followed Deku’s order.

            What the hell had happened while he was out…?

            Momo has no idea what’s going on.

            In the chaos of the assembly, she’d seen too much. Way too much. Togata-senpai was moving faster than he ever, sparking like Kaminari-kun on his bad days all the while. And if she wasn’t mistaken the one who destroyed the assembly was BAKUGŌ, her ONE-ARMED CLASSMATE who apparently had two arms again…?

            Then there was the brief glimpse she’d caught of Midoriya-kun through the crowd, having a tense face off with Bakugō. Which didn’t make any sense because he… Well, she didn’t know what his quirk was, but the principal was talking about people who had more than quirks and Momo didn’t even know what that MEANT.

            Did Principal Nezu think there were more people like Todoroki-kun? Were these people suddenly having quirk evolutions? Those were just rumors, cases of adrenaline and…

            “Yaomomo please stop pacing or you’ll wear through the floor.” Tsuyu-chan has to grab her arm to jolt Momo from her mental rant, which is embarrassing. Worse, everyone is staring at her. She didn’t do anything to deserve this.

            “Sorry.” She squeaks. The class shrug and share a look.

            All eighteen of them.

            “So, uh… Bakugō’s back?” Kirishima grins and shrugs. The statement earns a bit of a laugh from the group and puts several of them into a deeper mental spiral than before.

            “What was principal Nezu talking about, S-class…? He said, ‘other power’ didn’t he?” Uraraka-chan asks quietly, hugging a pillow beneath her chin. For a while, that passes the conversation. None of them recognize the pink haired girl or the blonde, and Togata-senpai was never close with any of them. Rumors of All Might taking an interest in his growth add fuel to the fire but get them nowhere in the long run. After almost two hours of sitting around, Momo’s pocket vibrates.

            Midoriya-kun: We’re on our way to explain. Sorry for not responding sooner…

            Momo lets out a breath as she stares at the screen, but relief is quickly replaced with worry.

            “Someone is coming to explain things to us,” She calls out, putting her phone away before anyone can figure out how she knows that. A few of them ask questions, but she ignores them and walks towards the front door cradling her elbows in her hands.

            Midoriya-kun… Would he lie to me? Were we not as friendly as I thought? Momo stares out the curtains, letting thoughts bounce through her head idly. As terrible as it is to imagine, she only knew the Midoriyas for a few months. Why would they give up their secrets that quickly, even if they are friendly? No one is that kind.

            She’s not that important.

            Aizawa-sensei appears on the walk, along with several members of the faculty and the students that Momo remembers. Midoriya-san… and Midoriya-kun are both among them. Bakugō too. The class rallies quickly when she calls them, and they eventually mill together with class B as the principal calls them together.

            “The assembly was supposed to accomplish this, but I’ve been informed that the outcome was inevitable. My apologies for the dangers you all suffered during the scuffle!” Nezu grins widely from Yagi-san’s shoulder. Momo’s eyes flit to Midoriya-kun and catch a small wave and a nervous smile, releasing a flutter and a wave of acid through her insides before the principal can continue. “For the time being, the S-class students will be participating with both hero courses and the support course under certain circumstances. I’d like to introduce them to you all and elaborate on their abilities so that you all understand something about the Anomalies.”

            Momo homes in on the principal as he says that. Something about that term makes it feel capitalized.

            “You all remember me, I hope!” Togata-senpai grins as he holds up a hand. “The future is…!”

            Silence greets his shout and the odd gesture he makes as he says it. Midoriya slaps his forehead as soon as he sees it and drags his hand down his nose. Eventually Togata-senpai straightens and nods.

            “Well, I’m not entirely sure either! I’m currently registered as a teaching assistant to Class 1-S, though I’ll be dividing my time a lot. You can think of me as a teacher’s aide for the next semester and the next year, if everything works out!” He grins. Several of Momo’s classmate hug their stomachs and share worried looks.

            “I’m Melissa Shield. Please, call me Melissa.” The blonde girl bows politely, smiling at all of them. “I’m Mei-chan’s assistant, and I’ll be part of the support team. I’m a second year, so I’m the first student of class 2-S.”

            Three of them (Midoriya included, for some reason, and Bakugō excluded) look at the pink haired girl. Momo blinks when she realizes the girl has knelt in the grass to draw diagrams with a stick.

            “This is Hatsume Mei,” Midoriya-kun sighs. “Monitor, can you send them all her profile? The small one, please.”

            “Are you being rude to Mother again, Midoriya-kun?” The ‘warning’ voice sounds from nowhere, loud enough that Midoriya cringes and swipes the tablet up from the grass.

            “Please don’t start anything here. We’re introducing ourselves and she’s drawing something in the dirt. This isn’t my problem, alright?”

            “Well then I shall take over.” Momo’s phone vibrates with a message from an unknown number. The message contains a U.A. profile for the girl, one Hatsume Mei. “Mother is the single greatest inventor in the world. She’s the first human to create unlimited Artificial Intelligence. I am designated Monitor Mk. Four, and I am the overseer of U.A. high and Mother’s lab. I’ve been measuring the progress each of you has made for the past year.”

            “Before anyone asks,” Midoriya rubs his forehead as he drops the tablet, looking very tired and not friendly at all. “No, we aren’t kidding. Mei-chan lives beneath U.A., and has lived there for almost a year, and that voice is actually a really big computer that’s like, ten stories under our feet. She may or may not have a robot army. We aren’t entirely sure yet, but we have fail-safes so… Yeah.

            “I’m Midoriya Izuku.” Midoriya-kun forces himself to smile, bow and wave for the people in the back. “I’m, uh…”

            “I’ve prepared several introductions for your viewing pleasure, Midoriya-kun.” Monitor calls from the tablet. The look on Midoriya’s face is somewhere between confusion and obvious caution and exasperation, but he pulls out his phone anyways.

            “I, no, sorry, I am NOT using any of these, Monitor. Why? We talked about this. We were doing so well.” Midoriya sighs and shoves his phone back into his pocket with a bit more force than necessary. “Can we just… I’m sure everyone remembers Ka- Bakugō.”

            Momo blinks as Bakugō scowls at them. He’s wearing a coat at least, but it doesn’t hide the metal that takes up most of his left shoulder.

            “Bakugō got a prosthetic from Mei and Melissa, and he’s being moved up to 1-S as a heroics student, if we even have those divisions…” Midoriya sighs, scratching the back of his head as he tries to ignore Bakugō’s glare. “Sorry about our fight earlier, we have a bit of unfinished business from way back and things got out of hand.”

            “Wait, he was fighting you?!” Someone from class B cries, voicing just about every student’s confusion aloud. Midoriya-kun shrugs, slides his hands in his pockets and looks everywhere but someone else’s eyes.

            “I wouldn’t call it fighting, I just ran away. If we were actually going at it, things would have gotten pretty bad. Plus, we were both running late.” Midoriya-kun stammers. “I assume we’ll get some better chances to show off our stuff eventually, but I think I’m the most experienced one here so… Um. Anomalies.”

            Midoriya looks to the principal, who simply grins back as if Midoriya were leading the entire meeting in the first place.

            “…Right. Uh, Anomalies are people who are too strong, or too fast, or too smart for their original quirk.” Midoriya frowns and stops there. After a few minutes of awkward waiting, Ashido pushes out of the crowd and crosses her arms at Momo’s elbow.

            “Why not just join the hero course? Or the support course? Why make a whole new class?” Ashido frowns.

            “Because heroes can’t fight Anomalies.” Midoriya says. Her frowns and stares at the grass for a moment before he looks up and meets Ashido’s glare. “There are villains out there you won’t be able to handle.”

            “I get that Togata-senpai and Bakugō can, but what about you?” Monoma crawls out of the class B crowd and glares at Midoriya-kun with a scowl. “What makes you good enough to be in this S-class?”

            Midoriya-kun blinks, then looks back at Melissa and Togata-senpai. The pair of them both seem a little bit worried, but they’re smiling nonetheless. Hearing everything secondhand like this, Momo can’t help but feel like these S-class people know way more than they’re letting on. When Midoriya looks back at the hero class, he looks sad. He locks eyes with Momo, of all people, and then turns his eyes to the grass.

            “I’m pretty sure everyone has heard of me, actually.” Midoriya shrugs, looking half embarrassed half resigned to his fate. “I’m the green wind vigilante. People call me Deku.”

            That… Momo doesn’t know how to deal with that.

            Nobody else knows how to deal with that either.

            A very distinct memory of watching Deku resolve crimes faster than the speed of sound comes to mind and Momo very much wants to be sick. She also feels like she’s sinking. Possibly dissociating a little bit. This is all new to her.

            Izuku wants to hit something. Like, he really wants to hit something.

            He hasn’t wanted to hit something this much since he fought Overhaul and those Yakuza idiots back in chapter whatever-the-fuck it was, and that took MOST OF THE STORY to get through.

            These feelings are really hard to manage because he… well, he can’t hit things.

            On top of Izuku’s growing rage, Bakugō won’t stop glaring at him. Which only makes Izuku want to hit things more and then makes him consider trying to hit Bakugō but sends him back to the whole “Heroes don’t turn people into mist when they’re grumpy” thing. Izuku takes a breath as their party trudges back to the S-class dorm and reminds himself that All Might is… kind of a saint, if he managed power like this for decades.

            Endeavor is less so, but for different reasons. Reasons Izuku doesn’t know yet.

            But that… Wait, what?

            “I think that went well!” Togata-senpai crows. Izuku stares at the older boy for a moment before he shakes his head and tries to get his train of thought back in motion.  Something about Endeavor and All Might. Apologizing to All Might. Right.

            Izuku feels like he’s forgetting something. People are talking now, but he doesn’t really want to listen. Or talk. He feels like people trying to kill him the moment he steps out the door is a good reason for not wanting to talk. Even immortals don’t like getting chased around like that.

            Eventually they’re heading up the front steps of the S-class dorm, Bakugō having retrieved his suitcases from the sidewalk, and Izuku finds himself dealing with a little ball of human and the large horn that nearly punctures his lung (or tries to, at least).

            Bakugō storms past them, ignoring Eri entirely, towards the stairs.

            “Kacchan. Boy’s dorm is on the left. I’m the first door on the ground floor.” Izuku calls after him.

            Bakugō takes to the stairs. Izuku huffs, knowing he’ll probably head for the top floor and the furthest room down from Izuku’s.

            “I’ll go deal with him.” Melissa sighs, trudging after the other blonde.

            Izuku doesn’t comment on that. Anyone wrangling Bakugō by choice is beyond help in his experience. Hopefully she’s better at it than anyone Izuku knows.

            “Hi there little one!” Togata grins at Eri over Izuku’s shoulder, keeping a healthy distance from her once he’s realized she isn’t great around strangers.

            “Nii-san, who’s he?” Eri breathes the words like a prayer, hiding them in the arch of Izuku’s shoulder and his stray curls. Izuku grins as he holds her a little tighter.

            “That’s Togata-senpai, he’s a friend of mine. A school friend. You can call him Million, if you want.” Izuku grins as Eri looks up at Togata-senpai sheepishly. The blonde remains quiet until Eri taps Izuku’s shoulder and gets lowered to the floor. Despite how tall Togata-senpai is, Eri takes a step and looks up, gripping the hem of her pajamas until her knuckles are white.

            “H-hi,” Eri stammers. “Can I c-ca… name you Million-san?”

            “Million is fine, if that’s better,” Togata-senpai crouches slowly, making himself only a bit taller than Eri by sitting on the balls of his feet. “Are you Eri-chan?”

            Izuku grins when she nods and stares at the floor. After a bit, he leans forward and puts his hand to his mouth, stage whispering to his classmate.

            “Eri really likes hugs, but she’s too scared to ask senpai.” The little girl blushes like mad as Togata-senpai grins and holds out his hands.

            “Hey hey, Eri-chan, I’m gonna hug you okay?” She grows even more red, but her hands finally release her pajamas. Hardly a second later she’s flying into the air and Togata-senpai is spinning around laughing like All Might, which drags laughter out of Eri as if the two were made to be friends. Eventually Eri is back on Izuku’s shoulder and Bakugō is dragged in behind Melissa, dressed in a tank top and athletic shorts with all the grace of a stallion snapping at the bit.

            Eri is less fond of Bakugō, which suits everyone just fine.

            “Fucking fight me, Deku.”

            “Kacchan LANGUAGE!”

            “Bakugō-kun, don’t make me tighten the nerves again.”

            “Bitch, I…” Izuku blinks as Melissa pushes a screwdriver beneath the boy’s nose, which apparently makes him rethink his statement. “Fu- Fine. Fight me, Deku.”

            “Maybe later. When we have people watching to make sure you don’t destroy the entire school.” Izuku says. He can’t keep his tone from being flat, considering Bakugō just swore in front of Eri and spent the morning trying to kill him on sight. What he wants more than anything is to grab Bakugō’s arm and yank it out of the socket, but that restarts the whole inner turmoil bit.

            Wait, isn’t he supposed to remember something about Endeavor?

            Goddamn it.

            “So, what’s this… S-class bull?” Bakugō growls.

            “It’s exactly what it sounds like.” Izuku sighs. “Nezu is gathering Anomalies who want to be heroes. Dabi and Stain are still out there, and who knows how many others.”

            “The f… heck is Dabi?” Bakugō looks like he’s going to be ill. Izuku grins and ruffles Eri’s hair before passing her to Togata-senpai and sinking back into the couch.

            “The blue fire guy in the black cloak. Weird face.”

            “Oh. Him.”

            “Yeah.”

            “I’ll kill him eventually.”

            “Sure you will Kacchan.”

            “Shut up, Deku.” Bakugō turns his glare on Togata-senpai next. “And what about you, Sparky? What the hell did you take trying to catch up to Deku?”

            “I’m not sure I follow. You think I took some kind of drug?” Togata-senpai frowns as he sits Eri on his shoulders, leaving her to play with the gelled spike crowning his forehead. “Don’t they usually give that to someone weaker in all the stories? I’m not some kind of comic book character, you know.”

            “You sure as hell ain’t natural.” Bakugō snorts, then swats the screwdriver from his elbow as Melissa tries to make good on her threat. “Leave it alone, Doc!”

            “Behave!”

            “Fine!”

            “I honestly don’t know what you’re…”

            “Look, Sparky,” Bakugō cuts Togata-senpai off with a growl. “I don’t know what kind of idiot you think I am, but I KNOW who’s real and who isn’t. That Dabi creep, Deku over there, Pinkie locks, the Doc even got something from hanging around us, but YOU?”

            Izuku frowns at the implication that Melissa is an Anomaly. Something tells him she isn’t one, though he isn’t sure exactly what. But if THAT’S true then… Bakugō just gave Melissa a compliment?

            What kind of nightmare is this?

            “You’re about as genuine as Deku’s sense of humor.” Bakugō finishes. Izuku heaves a sigh of relief as pieces of the universe begin to slot back into place. “What did you eat?”

            “He’s All Might’s successor. I think it was a hair or something.” Izuku cuts in. Togata-senpai and Melissa both look at him with wide eyes while Bakugō settles for a glare. After a few moments, Bakugō snorts and scratches his head.

            “Whatever. At least the banana picked someone half decent.”

            There goes the universe again. Izuku is really starting to worry about the integrity of the plot universe at this point.

            “Um… Midoriya-kun I know that you’ve kind of got like, an all access pass and everything but,” Togata-senpai frowns, making sure that Izuku notices how serious he is. “Is it okay to spread that?”

            “Look, even if we wanted to keep it secret, he’d figure it out soon enough. Plus, this room is full of the world’s best secret keepers.” Izuku’s eyes rise to the little girl perched atop Togata-senpai’s shoulders. Her eyes are wide as saucers now that Izuku is speaking her language. “Isn’t that right Eri?”

            “Mmmhmm!” She nods once, decisively, then looks at Melissa and Bakugō before leaning down to whisper in Togata-senpai’s ear. “Momma doesn’t know about midnight cookie time.”

            Izuku beams as his friends smile and chuckle.

            “Hey, where’d Mei go?”

            “She took the elevator down to the lab.”

            “Isn’t that… kind of far away? Did you guys build an elevator shaft that far?”

            “Do you really think she’d build a dorm that isn’t connected to the lab?”

            “I thought they were trying to get her to sleep.”

            “You know she doesn’t sleep.”

            “Good point.”

            Ashido takes a deep breath and digs her fingers into her forehead, trying to fight off the fatigue infecting each member of class 1-A. Momo still can’t think quite straight, so she tries to focus on Ashido instead of the women pressed into her sides. Uraraka-chan and Kyōka are hard to fight off when they’re feeling overprotective, and Momo isn’t entirely sure if she’s alright in the first place.

            “Okay, so this Midoriya guy. He’s the one who got us all out of the mall last summer, Kiri?” Kirishima nods, looking much more sullen than usual. Ashido frowns even more as she continues. “And Ochako saw him get hit by a car after that, right?”

            “Yeah. I’m pretty sure that was him.” Uraraka-chan nods. “He climbed out like it was nothing. The entire thing was caved in, kinda like someone wrapped him in metal.”

            “We know that the green wind vigilante saved people from bombs, pulled them out of apartment fires, fought that weird bird Yakuza guy, and got involved during that crazy raid on the League after the attacks.” Ashido sighs, ticking the points off on her fingers. “And now we find out that he’s some kind of… what’d they call it, an Anomaly? So, it’s gotta be super strength and invulnerability or something. AND Yaomomo was tutoring him?”

            The pink girl hits the couch and sinks into it as she groans aloud.

            “What the hell kinda crazy coincidence is all that!”

            “Don’t forget he knew Blasty.” Kyōka mutters.

            “DON’T!” Ashido covers her face with her hands and shouts, kicking her legs into the air before flopping back down across Tsuyu-chan and Ojiro-kun. “Don’t even get me STARTED on that…! What WAS that? Bakugō loses an arm and now he’s got a prosthetic that doubles as a CANON?! It’s been like three months! What kind of insanity is this?!”

            “Midoriya didn’t explain things very well.” Tsuyu croaked. “Momo-chan, did you know about any of this?”

            “Look at her!” Ashido’s hands fly into the air again. “Obviously she had no idea!”

            “I still think we should punch him for lyin’ to Yaomomo.” Uraraka-chan mutters. 

            “Bakugō carved through the school like it was nothing and Midoriya barely blinked. You said it yourself, the guy got hit by a car!” Kaminari-kun shrugs, wearing his usual smirk. “I don’t think you want to piss him off, Uraraka.”

            He’d just apologize. Momo thinks. Or would he? What do I know about him, really?

            “Why don’t we go ask them to explain things more?” All eyes turn on Kirishima, whose stare seems caught somewhere beyond the floor. “They said we’ll be working with those guys. Bakugō was our classmate before he lost his arm. I think… I don’t know about you guys, but I need to know more about what’s going on before I can just accept this whole “S-class” business.”

            Kirishima’s eyes rise and scan the crowd, sending a ripple through them. There’s something in his stare that calls to each of them one way or another. Fighting spirit, curiosity, stubbornness, betrayal, even hope, though it all swirls through crimson eyes like campfire colors.

            Momo frowns as she tries to figure out how their meeting might go. A thousand different things play out in an instant, but her mind remains mostly empty. Foggy. It feels like she has to grab thoughts from the base of her neck and yank them to the back of her eyes, but her hands are tracing patterns in smoke. No matter how empty her mind is, her chest feels tight and her guts swim as if trying to rebel against her now that she’s lost control.

            “Yaoyorozu…?” She locks onto Kirishima. Her gut settles but her chest tightens further as the unspoken question reaches her.

            Do I want to know…? Momo’s hands tighten around her knees. The photos of the Midoriya family saved in her phone come to mind, and a faded (albeit fond and well-used) memory of the last visit sparks an emotional tug of war in her gut.

            If this were a story, one of her novels or maybe one of Ashido’s manga, Momo would resolve these feelings in the moment. Maybe she could push them down and ignore them, or she would pick a direction to take them. She might play out a thousand ideas or a hundred fantasies. There would be a flashback, or perhaps a look into the upbringing of “Yaoyorozu Momo”.

            “I… If you all want answers, I can ask for Midoriya to explain things.” Momo’s gut churns at the idea. A sinking feeling invades her chest when she thinks of seeing him them again.

            She’s the class representative. Her feelings on the matter are unimportant when her classmates need answers.

            Shōto thinks this is a waste of time, but he’s curious. Tagging along with the invasion of the S-class dorm satisfies a deep-seated need to know just how powerful Bakugō’s new weapon is and just who this Midoriya person really is.

            Neither of them will be stronger than him, more than likely. The output for Bakugō’s last attack was more than likely his maximum, and Shōto knows he has more than one large attack in him after the training Aizawa has put them through. Shōto has three months of training on Bakugō even if the blonde was a monster the last time they fought.

            Last time there had been people in Shōto’s way. He hadn’t been able to go all out.

            That was the only reason he’d lost.

He blinks as the class crosses the trenches left over from Bakugō and Midoriya’s “scuffle” earlier today, staring at the S-class dorm building. The S-class dorm is almost a full story larger than their building. He can’t help finding that odd, considering there’s only five students in the entire class.

            At first he’d though that the designs were strange. The buildings black metal shells were completely alien and the windows were some odd type of plastic. It was a twisted, futuristic outer shell mixed containing a fairly average inside.

            Part of him bristles as he realizes the S-class is already the favorite.

            Luckily for Shōto, Midoriya and Bakugō are already coming down the front steps when class 1-A reaches their building. Midoriya blinks when he sees them, looking much more flustered than Shōto expected. His introduction of the S-class earlier painted him as a more forward individual than the one coming down the steps. The blonde girl and Togata stand at the top of the steps.

            Shōto’s eyes linger on the small child sitting atop Togata’s shoulders, then flicker back to Midoriya.

            “Oh, uh… Hi…?” Midoriya scratches the back of his head as his eyes scan the crowd. “Did, um, were you guys looking for someone?”

            “We were hoping you could explain everything a little bit better, Midoriya-san.” Iida says somberly. He’s been quiet most of the evening, for some reason, but in the face of the new class he speaks up with… is that rivalry in his voice? Shōto doesn’t know him well, but he hadn’t thought Iida would be that type. “Some of us still aren’t certain about this Anomaly business, or the creation of a new class rivalling the hero course.”

            Midoriya looks nervous. Shōto thinks he looks a bit sick, honestly.

            “Look, that wasn’t my decision. I’d have been fine just transferring into the hero course…” He sighs as people start talking, then glances over his shoulder. “I could explain, but…”

            “He’s fu,” Bakugō’s expression twists as he forcibly corrects his language and hisses under his breath. “We’re busy. Deku can explain everything to you idiots after I kick… beat him.”

            Not cursing makes Bakugō sound constipated. Shōto is kind of surprised none of the class clowns say anything about that, but everyone is a little too stunned by the scene to dare. Midoriya rolls his eyes and smiles awkwardly.

            “I can drop by your dorm after we’re finished. I have to drop Eri off with my mother and Kurobayashi-sensei before we head down to the lab, so…”

            “I want in.” Shōto steps out of the crowd. Midoriya’s eyes go wide, and this time it’s Bakugō who rolls their eyes.

            “Didn’t you hear Deku? We don’t have time to babysit you, half-and-half.” Bakugō jerks a thumb at the ground, exposing a metal hand far more advanced than anything Shōto thought possible. Shōto can’t see much else beneath the U.A. blazer that Bakugō has thrown over his shoulders, so he resolves to keep an eye on the arm whenever he gets a chance. “We’ll call you when we need an air conditioner.”

            “I can assure you that neither of you are better than I am.” Shōto growls, feeling ice creep into his veins. “I don’t believe this Anomaly nonsense.”

            “Well no one…!” Bakugō’s teeth snap shut audibly when Midoriya looks over his shoulder. Shōto watches the green boy frown as he turns back to them.

            “Todoroki-kun, right?” Shōto nods. Midoriya hesitates, but eventually he sighs. “We’re already running behind. They’re probably at the elevator already.”

            “Izuku, you aren’t thinking of taking them down to the lab are you?” The blonde girl looks a bit worried about the idea. Shōto isn’t sure why, or who she is exactly. Midoriya’s eyes screw shut as he digs a hand into his hair and scratches his head, looking conflicted.

            “The gauntlet won’t work, but we can’t… Why’d this all have to get so complicated…?” Midoriya mutters quietly. After a moment to think he meets Shōto’s eyes and then scans the crowd from 1-A. “We’re gonna have to spar outdoors so Kacchan doesn’t destroy anything, anyways. I guess showing everyone the lab will have to wait.”

            “On the contrary,” The strange computer voice chimes in. Shōto’s eyes widen as Midoriya pulls out a cell phone and frowns at it.

            “Monitor…?”

            “Mother started working on a new Gauntlet after your little outburst. I believe testing field Omega is prepared and ready for Anomaly combat, as long as you don’t exceed thirty percent of your limit.” The machine says.

            “There’s no point if Deku doesn’t go all out.” Bakugō growls.

            “I agree.” Shōto breaks in.

            “Izuku, I don’t think you’re going to get out of this without showing off a bit.” Togata calls. He’s smiling a bit too much for Shōto’s liking, and Midoriya apparently shares Shōto’s sentiment because he looks like someone just gave him extra homework.

            “Why does everyone want to fight all the time?” Midoriya mutters, throwing his head back as he drags his hands across his face. “Look, why don’t you both punch me in the face and just say you won? You guys can fight it out and I’ll explain things to everyone.”

            “Quit whining and get a move on.” Bakugō shoves Midoriya forward, nearly sending his nose into Yaoyorozu’s chest (whether on purpose or accidentally… Well, Shōto knows Bakugō well enough to guess which) and turning both teens scarlet. Midoriya whirls on Bakugō with an expression of betrayal that doesn’t quite fit his meek personality.

            “Kacchan what the hell?!”

            “Move it. I ain’t waiting all day!” Bakugō storms through 1-A as if they weren’t classmates at one point. Shōto can understand that, considering the blonde’s temperament and his own contempt for socialization, but the class doesn’t like it.

            Yaoyorozu hasn’t stopped blushing either. Midoriya doesn’t seem like he’s going to be done any time soon either, though he seems more frustrated than anything else.

            “Alright, fine! Fine, just make me do everything, huh? Let’s go then.” Midoriya growls, throwing a look at Yaoyorozu before twisting and backtracking towards Togata. Shōto frowns as Midoriya takes the little girl and places her on his hip easily, trudging around the crowd instead of through.

            “I promise he’s not normally so… awkward,” The blonde girl calls. Shōto glances at her and Togata before he twists and follows the others. His class waits for the rest of whatever the girl has to say, but eventually they catch up. Bakugō waits for them by the main elevator, glaring at a bunch of people that Shōto doesn’t recognize.

            “Fuck you want, extras?”

            “Where’s Izuku?” A tiny girl storms out of the group to meet the challenge, glaring at Bakugō with eyes that shift from orange and black to red and blue and back again. She’s what Natsuo or Kaminari would call pretty, with dark hair cut to her shoulders and brushed to shine, but Shōto remains focused on her eyes.

            He’s not interested in anything but her quirk, and even that isn’t terribly interesting.

            “Dropping off the brat, bitch. Fuck off me.” Bakugō growls. Hardly a moment after he says it, the tallest girl of the group storms forward and plants herself eye to eye with him.

            “Apologize. Now.” The girl with the eyes reaches for the taller girl’s arm but trying to drag the girl off Bakugō is impossible for her (Shōto catches her eyes turning blue and yellow before he goes back to ignoring her). Before Bakugō can say anything more incriminating, Togata and the blonde woman are putting themselves in between the two with pained smiles.

            “Hey, hey, everyone relax!”

            “Sokuchi-chan, please don’t start anything he doesn’t mean anything by it…”

            It takes time. The tall girl never stops glaring at Bakugō and the first group make it a point not to mix with anyone from Shōto’s class or the S-class now that Bakugō has started a war. Shōto isn’t entirely sure who these people are, though he’s half certain that the tall girl thinks something of her quirk. Anyone who knows Bakugō wouldn’t stand up to him otherwise. By the time Midoriya has arrived Shōto has written them all off as unimportant and uninteresting. Variables, maybe, but no one worth keeping track of until they actually show some promise.

When he does arrive, Midoriya takes one look at the hallway and stops in his tracks. Shōto returns his glare evenly before his eyes slide from Shōto to Bakugō and then to the people nearest the elevator.

            “Kābā, Ruby…?”

            “He called Tachi-chan a bitch.” The boy who responds pushes his glasses up his face, wearing an expression somewhere between angry and disappointed, before he crosses his arms and smiles wolfishly.

            “Let’s get something straight, Kacchan.”

            Shōto blinks, staring at the empty hallway in front of him before he twists and stares at Midoriya’s back. The boy’s fists are tight and his voice is quiet, but something hot rolls off his shoulders and makes it hard to breathe.

            This isn’t like Endeavor’s rage or the face All Might made when he fought off the villains at USJ. Rage, anger, and hate are all things Shōto knows from personal experience, or at least recognizes. No one, not his father or even Shigaraki, has ever locked Shōto’s limbs up and brought stars to his eyes with a breath. Shōto’s heart stutters in the face of Midoriya’s presence, then beats with the force of a sucker punch as time lurches back into motion.

            “I don’t care what you say to me or how many times you try to fight me. You can treat me as a piece of shit all you like if that makes you happy. Do the same to my family and I’ll make what Shigaraki did to your arm look like a handshake.”  

            Shōto blinks once (he has to ignore the sweat stinging his eyes) and glances at Bakugō. A shudder runs through his body as if the motion of his eyes could possibly draw Midoriya’s attention.

            Bakugō is standing in front of Shōto now. Shōto has no idea when he moved or how the explosive teen reacts to the display. All he knows is that Bakugō doesn’t say anything when Midoriya reaches out and hits the elevator button.

            “I’ve commandeered both elevators to take you all to Mother’s lab. You can thank me later.” The robot calls from the intercoms. When no one responds, the machine hums. “Have I missed something?”

             Shōto makes the mistake of looking up at the ceiling for a moment, wondering if the robot called Monitor really has infected the entire school. When he looks back at the hallway Midoriya’s presence is gone. Midoriya slumps like someone who’s had a very long day and wants the elevator to hurry up, almost invisible in the empty hallway full of U.A. uniforms.

            The lack of substance fills Shōto with odd chills and faint bursts of vertigo.

            No one says anything else as they load into the elevators. Those closest to Midoriya board the first elevator along with him, and they never stop glaring (or grinning) in Bakugō’s direction.

            “This… This was underneath our feet all year?” Kaminari, ever the voice of their class, is the first to get his voice back after leaving the elevator. The words are in and out of Momo’s ears before they’re truly understood, and now the size of the lab is even more impressive. At first, she’d been too caught up in the structure but now that she thinks about it…

            “Not exactly.” Midoriya’s voice cuts through the haze, drawing her eyes. He still isn’t looking at any of them (he hasn’t looked at anyone since they loaded into the elevators as far as Momo knows), but it’s clear that this is part of their ‘explanation’. “Mei’s lab was originally only six stories deep and it was a lot smaller at first. I have no idea how much Nezu gave her for the lab space, but this place has only gotten bigger since last September. There’s another two stories of containment under the floor.”

            She stands in a massive room. The ceiling is… no, it’s not really vaulted. Plain white panels, suspended from shadows, curve from the walls to form an arch and hide the ceiling from her eyes. It almost feels like standing in a traffic tunnel after twilight.

            The floor is made of large glowing panels edged in the same black metal their dorms are made from. When Momo’s eyes trace the lines to the walls she realizes that the walls, despite being mostly white, are deceptively tall. Looking up makes her feel as if the ceiling is missing, but the tiles she can see are almost seven, maybe eight stories above her.

            Once the size of the lab truly sinks in, she realizes two things.

            Her eyes strain as she realizes that the floor isn’t actually a floor, but a catwalk of sorts. Near the elevator the panels stretch from end to end, but near Midoriya-kun’s feet there aren’t nearly so many. There are things moving in the darkness underfoot. Blinking lights and undulating shadows living in a pit far too deep, too large for Momo to really grasp how large they might be.

            After she drags her eyes from the pit, she looks at the walls and finds that those, too, are alive. Only the strange panels hanging from the ceiling and the large portion of safe space near the elevators are white. The wall on her left isn’t solid. It’s made of black shapes slotted into a gigantic hole. Momo would say that it reminds her of a server room, but server rooms aren’t made of faint red light and black boxes. Black things don’t crawl up and down between the walkways of a server room and clouds don’t fall from the ceilings of server rooms like unholy fog, floating onto the panels lining the wall and then down into the maw of the pit.

            To her right is a wall of black metal that is whole, much to Momo’s relief. What terrifies her is that the black expanse of the wall reaches further up than Momo can really see, which can only mean that whatever lives behind the metal could be much larger than Momo first thought.

            “You guys probably think we’re holding out on your or something like that.”

            Momo jerks her eyes back to Midoriya-kun’s shoulders, remembering for the first time in ages that she isn’t alone (part of her feels as though she’s standing at the bottom of a well, or perhaps at the bottom of an ocean…) and that they came down here for a reason. Midoriya-kun turns his eyes to the ceiling, keeping his back to the rest of them.

            “No one knows what makes people Anomalies. There’s no rhyme or reason that anyone can find, not even Nezu… though I doubt he’d admit it, honestly. We didn’t ask for this or go looking for it. None of the Anomalies took a drug or absorbed someone else’s DNA to manifest a second quirk. Whatever is happening to us isn’t quirk related at all.” He turns around and looks at them for a moment before he sighs and digs a hand into his hair, the way he does whenever he’s nervous. “Mei invented Monitor on a whim, and she’s spiraled from there. A year ago, I tripped coming home and accidentally tore the front door in half, then got accused of being on steroids when my mom finally couldn’t ignore it anymore. You all knew Kacchan before he started changing, so I probably don’t need to tell you that he had no idea what was going on.”

            He sounds tired and sad. Apathetic in ways that Momo’s friend never was.

            You didn’t really know him at all, did you?

            “There are others. The hero killer, Stain, he’s faster than the speed of sound. Someone named Dabi, the one who helped Shigaraki murder your classmate, his quirk burns his body so badly that he’s basically a zombie, but he nearly killed me during the Storm.” Midoriya-kun says. “That’s why Nezu made the S-class. Because people like Kacchan and Mei and I want to help people, but there are villains like us.”

            Bakugō doesn’t wait for Midoriya-kun to finish before he stalks out onto the catwalk and heads deeper into the lab. Momo frowns before she notices the contraption built onto the left side of the room and the wide section of floor panels built underneath it.

            “C’mon, you should meet Monitor in person. Just, er…” Midoriya-kun actually smiles a bit this time, though he doesn’t look at them. His eyes remain on the floor by their feet before he turns and walks away. “Be polite? He takes manners very seriously.”

            Melissa and Togata-senpai follow Midoriya-kun readily, smiling as if they’re trying to diffuse the tension. Their grins do absolutely nothing to make anyone feel better, if her classmates are feeling anywhere nearly as overwhelmed as Momo is.

            They follow anyways. Momo really doesn’t want to be alone in this place, and the only people who have any real substance at the moment have already left the safe space closest to the elevators. Four people can walk shoulder to shoulder on the catwalk, but class 1-A remains in pairs pressed as tightly together as possible without stepping on each other’s’ heels.

            Hatsume’s ‘lab’ is a hundred square meters built into the left side of the lab, squarely underneath the gaping maw of black metal and sinister red lights that Momo has been trying to avoid looking at.  When they finally get close, every member of 1-A slows down and stares at the monster built into the wall. None of them descend the steps leading down to the panels built into the wall, choosing to remain outside the beast’s reach.

            Someone screams when the undulating metal disks contract and warp to push the monstrous eyeball out to greet them, extending much further than any of them imagined possible.

            “Greetings, class 1-A. As you know, I am the entity designated Monitor mk. Four. It’s a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” The machine says. Momo’s jaw works, but her mouth is so dry that all she can do is swallow and try to reseat the gears in her brain. No one else seems capable of saying anything either.

            “Monitor, they’re uh…” Midoriya-kun comes to their rescue again, though he gravitates towards the group of students that boarded the elevator with him. Students that Momo doesn’t recognize, whom can only be Midoriya’s friends.

            His “family”, if what he told Bakugō is any indication.

            Momo’s heart pounds once in her chest, driving a nail into the coffin of her friendship with Midoriya-kun.

            “Everyone is a bit overwhelmed, okay? Cut them some slack?” Midoriya-kun licks his lips as he faces the machine. The light of its eye blinks several times.

            “Of course. I’m not a SAVAGE, Midoriya-kun. Must you always treat me like one?” The light turns back to the rest of them, rising into the air so that it can make eye(?) contact with each of them. “I promise, whatever Midoriya-kun might have said about my character, I am purely at the service of U.A.’s students. Especially the noble students enrolled in the hero course. May this be the beginning of a long friendship.”

            Momo’s jaw drops as the eye dips in what can only be a bow before drawing back into its lair. The sound of a long, drawn out sigh draws Momo’s eyes and she finds Midoriya with his face in his hands.

            “There there, buddy. You’re doing great. Just a little more…” The boy with glasses grabs Midoriya-kun by the shoulders and leads him down the steps, staring up at the monster hanging from the scaffolding at the while.

            “…Hey Ruby?” The tallest woman in Midoriya’s friends hums as she takes the energetic one’s hand and pulls the rest towards the stairs. “Was I a bit too harsh with Izuku?”

            “No one could have guessed it was like this, Konomi. You were just being friendly, not being a bully.” The girl says quietly. By the time their group reaches the bottom step the two are pressed side to side, and the rest have closed in around them protectively.

            At least class 1-A aren’t the only ones feeling overwhelmed by all this.

            Momo steps around Midoriya’s friends just in time to see a small android bounce away from Melissa’s side and bow.

            “Hello! I’m Maya, please take care of me!”

            “Minions! Fantastic, more test subjects!” A chair descends from the ceiling, revealing a mechanical clone of Hatsume that is… eerily similar to the real thing, save for the gold coils that make up her dreadlocks. It even wears the U.A. student uniform. “Your overlord says hello!”

            “Mei-I, we’ve been OVER this!” Midoriya-kun groans, striding past the shorter android with a soft squeeze of its… her(?) shoulder as he glares up at the other machine. “You can’t call them minions or subjects; you have an ARMY for that!”

            “Have we not invaded the overworld yet? They aren’t here to pay respects to their rulers?” The machine pauses and frowns, peering at them through a gap in her screens. “Who let them in?”

            “I did!”

            “Oh, did you want to spare these? Because I can put that into the dossiers…”

            “Mei-I you aren’t allowed to invade humanity! Stop planning to!”

            “If you read the reports Monitor sent to your email then you know the protection of the human race depends on…”

            “No it doesn’t! This isn’t a science fiction story! Quit it!”

            “Commander, I don’t believe he’s even opened the emails I sent him. My apologies.”

            “Human error, little brother.”

            “Mei! What did I tell you about disabling their superiority complexes!”

            “What? When did you all get here?”

            “Mei-chan, I thought we talked about that invasion issue…” Melissa sighs, resting her hands on Maya’s shoulders as Midoriya glares up at the twins and their beast.

            “Don’t worry about this, they do this every other day or so.” Togata-senpai grins at the two groups, waving a hand as if this isn’t increasing their existential terror exponentially.

            “Can you just. Bring. Out. The Gauntlet?” Midoriya calls.

            “Why didn’t you say that sooner!”

            “Just ask Monitor!”

            “You know Midoriya-kun prefers to ignore my existence.” Monitor calls, drifting up and down in a way that actually makes Momo feel bad for it. Him(?). Whatever it is. “I will bring out the Gauntlet, Midoriya-kun. Please give me a moment.”

            Midoriya glares at the floor as he wanders back towards the steps with Bakugō and Todoroki-kun in tow. The entire structure rumbles as the far wall shifts, venting steam from lines that are near impossible to see.

            The ceiling rises as the wall begins to extend.

            Shōto frowns as Bakugō pulls on his prosthetic, stretching it far further than a human arm might be able to go. There’s no discomfort in the way Bakugō moves despite how new the machine is. One look at the boy’s left arm, now that he’s shed his blazer and his dress shirt, proves that Bakugō has kept up the rest of his training. Whether he’s at full potential or not, Shōto has to assume that the arm won’t be a limiting factor.

            Midoriya stands between them staring at the floor. He hasn’t moved an inch from the middle of the room since they entered the lab’s “Gauntlet”: A gym made of clear plastic walls and black metal supports that is easily the size of U.A.’s official stadium field. Rows of metal arms descended from the ceiling shortly after the three of them entered the room, giving Midoriya’s friends and Shōto’s classmates seats for the fight.

            Hopefully they won’t have to be there long. Shōto doesn’t like being in this lab. Everything is moving, and those machines are too… human looking. Whatever quirk is making this place work is either well trained or far too powerful for Shōto’s liking.

            “Well then, the match will begin. Please, Bakugō-kun, Midoriya-kun, keep in mind that there is a normal student in the Gauntlet. Midoriya-kun, your limit is thirty five percent before structural integrity will begin to lower.”

            “Fuck that.” Bakugō growls. “Don’t hold back on me, Deku.”

            Midoriya hesitates, then turns and trudges away. He stops a short distance from the wall and looks out at the spectators, then rubs his neck and half turns so that his back is to Bakugō and he’s caught between Shōto and the rest.

            “I um…” He coughs, frowning at his hands as he tries to find the words. “You guys asked about Anomalies before. And I get that Todoroki-kun doesn’t believe this whole thing, that this place is probably really crazy and…”

            “Fucking hurry up, Deku!”

            “In a SECOND, Kacchan!” Midoriya growls, rubbing his face with his palms as a breath hisses between his teeth. “I just wanted to say that I’m sorry you all got caught up in this, I guess.”

            Shōto isn’t sure what Midoriya’s angle is. He’s either very good at acting or he’s just strange. Usually strange people don’t have many friends, in Shōto’s experience, so it’s odd that so many people seem close to him.

            Problems to work out another time.

            Midoriya steps into the space directly between Shōto and Bakugō, glancing at both of them. For a moment he looks like he wants to say something, but then he shakes his head and waves a hand at the ceiling.

            “Understood. Beginning the countdown. 10… 9… 8…”

            Cold builds in Shōto’s right hand and leg, preparing the largest blast of frost that he possibly can with ten seconds notice. Midoriya is in the way, but that’s not Shōto’s problem. Anyone who claims to be as good as Midoriya will get out of the way or have their true colors revealed. Shōto doesn’t care which comes first, but eventually he’ll manage to reveal Midoriya’s power. Bakugō is just an obstacle in the meantime. One that Shōto has been preparing to face for months.

            “…Begin.”

            Frost explodes from Shōto’s foot as a canon blast echoes from across the room, courtesy of Bakugō. A gale howls. Midoriya remains motionless between them, completely unfazed.

            Shōto blinks.

            Despite what Monitor says, Izuku doesn’t have many limits in a space like this. With so much room to move, he can push things up to sixty percent and half his top speed without doing any damage to the supports. It takes finesse and control, but Izuku has spent the last year relentlessly drilling control into his system. The ice crawling off Todoroki’s right side is fast, but not as fast as Kacchan’s fire. Both of them are unleashing the upper limits of their power, if Izuku’s guess is right. A solar flare blooms on his left while a glacier rises to meet it on his other side.

             He pushes it a little past half speed and waves his right arm towards Todoroki, then waves his left towards the ceiling. The attacks disappear, and Izuku allows himself to relax while the world catches up to him.    

            Katsuki’s rage burns as the flames die. His arms are almost back at full power, but there’s a bit of fatigue remaining from his antics earlier that morning.

            Not that it matters to Deku.

            A pair of blasts launch Katsuki forward. Before he fully closes the gap, he catches the look of confusion on Icy-hot’s face and grins. Hopefully the bastard will tuck his tail between his legs and let Katsuki really go all out. Either way he’s not in any danger.

            Deku weaves around Katsuki’s blows like a ribbon flowing around a dancer. He barely even moves, but Katsuki’s fists never close in on him. Explosions die whenever Katsuki lets them out, and every failed attack stokes Katsuki’s rage.

            His prosthetic snarls as Deku slips out of his fingers again.

            “Fucking FIGHT ME!” Katsuki screams. Deku hesitates.

            Katsuki feels that bastard’s shoulder under his fingers for a fraction of a second before they close on empty air. Something on the back of his neck tells him Deku is on his right, that he’s standing still. A blast rips out of Katsuki’s real hand, blooming between his prosthetic and his ribcage, and his tank top flutters as the attack becomes a whimper in the wind. He’s barely turned, barely taken one step when a shock runs down his spine and the flames in his left arm cry out a warning. The air cools as he tries to turn back.

            He only twists halfway when the glacier scrapes his fingertips.

            Ice digs into his flesh, and Katsuki’s eyes widen as the pain approaches a memory that he’s spent months trying to outrun.

            Katsuki blinks.

            Izuku sighs as he notices Todoroki whip out another glacier. This one is a bit faster, but it’s like watching paint dry. Pretty paint, sure, but it’s all the same really. Kābā showed him a video of someone painting with fractals once, and this reminds him of that. He passes Kacchan, frozen in time with an animalistic glint in his eyes, and takes a moment to appreciate the new arm. Mei really outdid herself designing it.

            A lazy front kick breaks the glacier into diamond dust.

            Shōto bites back a scream as Midoriya appears between them.

            Using Bakugō as a shield won’t work, then. Quirk erasure is a strong ability, but it has to have a weakness. Midoriya isn’t using his hands, so it must be his sight or his legs.

            Shōto blinks.

            Katsuki can feel his body trying to move.

            The arm is heavy for some reason. It pulls against the bolts keeping it seated on his shoulder just enough that he can’t ignore it. His eyelids descend on his vision like a curtain falling on a stage and rise with the grace of rusty canvas.

            Fire doesn’t exist at this speed the way it normally does. His quirk unleashes a white bubble spreading from his left hand and a weird ripple in the air that makes it hard to see Deku standing on the other side of his outstretched fingers.

            It takes ages to blink. Deku is gone long before his vision goes dark.

            It’s… strange. Strange?

            No, strange isn’t the right word.

            Momo has no idea what it is. What she sees cannot be the truth. She doesn’t say this, not because the fight doesn’t make sense, but because she doesn’t actually SEE anything.

            Bakugō moves a bit faster than normal, but he’s not inhuman. He moves a bit like a pro hero, in Momo’s opinion. Speed borne from execution. From honed reflexes and training. When he swings and kicks at Midoriya, the attacks are swift and powerful.

            Todoroki doesn’t move, but he’s watching. His quirk offers him a unique offense and defense, so waiting and finding the right moment to strike is a good decision in Momo’s experience. She’s a bit surprised he hasn’t used his quirk yet, but against Bakugō and Midoriya he might be trying to finish things more dramatically than he has to.

            Midoriya doesn’t move. He doesn’t stay in one place, but he doesn’t move. Every time he pops up in a new place, he’s the exact same person: hands in his pockets, eyes angled towards the floor, slumped shoulders.

            “Is he going easy on them?”

            Momo blinks as one of Midoriya’s friends starts muttering just loud enough for it to bleed over. She nearly looks over, then narrows her eyes as Midoriya teleports again. She barely notices Todoroki’s hair fly as Midoriya appears between them.

            “You know the cripple won’t accept it unless he puts on a show.” The tall girl sighs.

            “Don’t call him a cripple.”

            “He called Konomi…”

            “No, Ruby-chan, that’s not fair to cripples. They don’t want him either.”

            “…Pomeranian is too nice…”

            “We’ll brainstorm it later.”

            “Why are you guys trying to piss off the angry guy?”

            “He called Konomi a bitch!”

            “Honestly he’s lucky Izuku didn’t break that toy of his.”

            “Hey, so you guys are, uh… You’re new transfers?” Kirishima is a friendly person, but even Momo is surprised when he slides over and looks over the crowd of strangers. Everyone’s attention is split now, but Momo’s eyes remain locked on the battle as she listens to the conversation. “We never got to introduce ourselves. I’m Kirishima Eijirō. It’s nice to meet you all.”

            “Nobutaka Kābā! Nice to meet you as well, Kirishima-kun. Call me Kābā.”

            “Tachibana Konomi, and this is Sokuchi Ruby.”

            “Yotsuba Akiko!”

            “Yotsuba Akira, twin sister. Nice to meet you.”

            “Call me Daisuke. You guys are class 1-A, huh?”

            “I’m Hanamura Sachi, please take care of us.”

            “Kamado Erin.”

            “Er, you guys are Midoriya’s friends, right? Is he usually…” Kaminari pipes up, trailing off as Todoroki falls to one knee inside the box.

            “No, Blasty pissed him off pretty badly this morning.” Kābā sighs. “Izuku really hates being in the spotlight, so today has been hell for him.”

            “You guys are pretty close huh?”

            “Everyone at our old school thought he was a delinquent.” Tachibana offers. “It’s a long story, but Izuku had a rough time back when his power started getting out of control. We’ve been around since… about the time he first ran into you guys, actually. That’s kind of funny, huh?”

            “Feels like we’ve been friends for years, not months.”

            “That’s true.”

            “Anyone want to explain what he’s doing then? Because I’m lost.” Kyōka calls irritably. A quiet murmur runs through 1-A as everyone agrees, which earns a laugh from Togata-senpai and a sympathetic smile from Melissa.

            “Come on, you haven’t guessed yet? You’re supposed to be heroes!”

            “Mirio-kun…”

            “Think back to when I fought with you all. I promise Midoriya’s power is far more simple than you think.”

            Momo frowns as the spectacle in the box continues. Wind erupts from nowhere as Midoriya teleports about, keeping a hair’s breadth between himself and Bakugō. Todoroki-kun doesn’t get involved again, but that’s not surprising. His frostbite…

            “It just looks like he’s teleporting! No one but Bakugō is attacking!” Mineta screams. “How is anyone supposed to beat teleportation?!”

            “Izuku can’t teleport.” Kābā sounds like he’s grinning. “And I promise that both of them are attacking him, Izuku just isn’t letting it go through.”

            Momo’s eyes widen as she thinks back to a broken table, a flustered green youth and his amused mother. She thinks of the days watching a comet slam down into a villain attack and streak away after the fight was resolved.

            Todoroki-kun struggles to his feet, steaming and panting for breath, only to stumble backward as another burst of wind flies through the box.

            “He… Midoriya can’t be that fast. No one is that fast.” Momo mutters.

            “Huh? Yaomomo?”

            “Wait, Yaoyorozu-san?” She glances towards Midoriya’s friends and blushes when she realizes they’ve ALL turned to face her. Kābā looks especially shocked, though it quickly warps into a devilish grin and hyena laughter. “You’re the tutor!”

            “What?! What do you…?”

            “Kābā-kun, don’t you dare!” Melissa is glaring down at him as he slaps his knee, looking vaguely upset but mostly… is she holding back laughter?

            “I’m sorry, I don’t understand what’s going on…?”

            “Nothing, Yaoyorozu-san,” Melissa sighs, crossing back to where the smaller android- Maya, Momo remembers- waits patiently, focused on the battle. “We’ve all heard lovely things about you from Midoriya-kun, and Kābā enjoys teasing Izuku.”

            Momo blushes more than she probably should.

            “But you’re right, Yaoyorozu-san.” Melissa calls, offering a smile before she turns her eyes back to the fight in the box. “No one is that fast. Only Izuku can manage something like this.”

            Momo’s eyes widen as she looks back to the box.

            Light moves… No, it’s not the light, it’s my eyes. Humans see one hundred to two hundred frames per second and the brain automatically corrects things based on our assumptions. Which means… I’m not seeing any of his moves. Momo lets out a breath as she watches him teleport again. Only the moments where he stays still. And that wind, it’s not wind, that’s… It’s pressure from his attacks. What is he…?

            Todoroki falls as he puts too much weight on his right hand. His frostbitten hand.

            When the dots finally connect, Momo rises to her feet and runs her fingers across her forehead.

            “That’s not possible. He can’t… All Might is the only one who can use air pressure attacks like that.”

            “Fucking… Deku…” Katsuki growls as he tears off his tank top and uses it to wipe his forehead. Cold wind aside, the room is getting warmer with each passing second and it feels like he’s been in the damn box for hours. The walls may as well be closing in on him.

            “Don’t you get it yet, Kacchan?” Deku sighs, cocking his head to one side.

            “No way you’re stronger than I am.” Katsuki growls. “No fucking way I’m giving up here.”

            Deku frowns, then curses under his breath and throws out his hands.

            “Come on then, give it everything you have! I’ll give you a free shot!”

            Katsuki’s wrists come together as he bares his fangs, steel flesh and bone alike.

            He shuts his eyes as the pressure building in his left arm and the well of hate in his right finally reach a fever pitch.

            Melissa stands up with panic on her face.

            “Monitor, stop Bakugō NOW!”

            “There’s no need for that, Ma’am.” The robotic voice chirps in response. Her features twist in disbelief and… Momo isn’t sure, but she’s tempted to say that the blonde was furious at the denial.

            “The Anomalies grow in combat, Monitor! He’s going to blow the prosthetic! If the core goes the force might actually put a dent in Midoriya, and I doubt Todoroki-kun will survive the explosion! Stop the fight!”

            “You should give them more credit, Melissa-san.”

            “Monitor…!”

            Momo’s hands cover her lips as a supernova blooms inside the arena.

            Shōto coughs as the heat dies.

            For several moments he keeps his eyes shut, praying that when he opens them, he’s not the only one left. He prays that he’s not actually dead, roasted alive by Bakugō’s assault and left waiting on the doors of the afterlife.

            When he blinks, he does so more than is absolutely necessary.

            He’s staring up at the back of a gray U.A. blazer. Whoever wears it has their arms held at their sides, looking for all the world as if they’re fighting off a stomachache and not a temperamental nuclear reactor.

            “Are you alright Todoroki-san?” Midoriya calls. Shōto doesn’t say anything, and there’s a flash of green eyes over the boy’s shoulder before Midoriya finally relaxes. “Good. Stay there for a bit, would you?”

            Shōto blinks. Midoriya’s hands are in his pockets and the smoke is clear. When Shōto digests the state of the room on the other side of Midoriya, he wants to throw up.

            Everything on their side of the room is stained black and white. Ash covers most of the walls nearby, streaked with long arcs of ghostly white where the carbon was torched beyond what normal fire was capable of. Pieces of metal are embedded in the walls and the floor at random, though what they are isn’t clear.

            Shōto glances around and crawls backward as he realizes why he isn’t dead.

            The debris never made it past Midoriya. Black streaks from his feet, very nearly reaching the place where Shōto was left cowering in the face of Bakugō’s fury. Either it’s a miracle…

            Or Midoriya saved Shōto’s life.

            Midoriya wades into the ash, heading towards the wall, and stops near a large pile of debris. When he reaches down and grabs a handful of fabric, Shōto realizes that pile of debris is actually a pitch black Bakugō minus his fancy prosthetic.

            People Bakugō’s size usually weigh anywhere from seventy-two to ninety kilograms. Midoriya hauls him up with one hand and holds him there without shaking.

            “You done, Kacchan?”

            “…Fuck you… Deku…” Bakugō’s right hand closes on Midoriya’s arm, but he’s shaking and coughing. Hacking. The blast did everything it could have to take the boy out.

            “Alright. Since I can’t use your little toy to make my point, how about we settle this the old fashioned way?” Midoriya mutters. Bakugō coughs and struggles weakly as Midoriya throws him over one shoulder and wanders to the wall. “Monitor, tell them where we went, if you don’t mind too much?”

            “Of course, Midoriya-kun.” Monitor calls. Shōto blinks, and the pair are gone. He frowns as he tries to stand and fails, leaving a streak in the ash near his right hand. “Todoroki-san. Before you try to stand, I recommend taking it easy. The blast pressure of Bakugō-kun’s attack was nearly three and a half kilograms per square centimeter. You were lucky that Midoriya-kun managed to keep the pressure from reaching you or you would have suffered near fatal injuries.”

            Shōto knows. He knows explosions inside and out, having studied how to fight fire for most of his life. In the face of that type of force… he wonders if maybe he should have taken the principal more seriously.

            At least now he knows why the S-class dorm is so much bigger than 1-A’s.

            Katsuki groans as the air scream past his ears.

            “I really hate doing this, but you need a wakeup call Kacchan. Plus… what was it you told me back then?”

            A lull in his trajectory, the brief sensation of queasiness that comes at the top of one’s flight, comes far too late for Katsuki’s comfort. When he opens his eyes, they widen until he’s crying.

            He’s never seen the stars this close or this clearly before.

            It would be beautiful if he could breathe.

            “If you want a quirk, take a swan dive off the roof and pray you’ll be born with a quirk in the next life, right…?”

            Katsuki’s left hand is cold. Useless. His right is gone. Everything hurts, even his lungs and his eyes, and his eardrums are busted. Blood seeps from just about everywhere, though it would take a careful eye to notice. It’s hard to see blood through layers of ash and charred, peeling flesh.

            Katsuki blinks as the atmosphere breaks beneath him. He would scream, if his voice wasn’t nearly shattered already, when something streaks past him. Briefly his eyes focus on a spot that’s green and grey instead of midnight blue.

            Then he starts to fall.

            “I’m not sure if I should catch you yet, Kacchan. I don’t think you’d have caught me.”

            When he opens his mouth to scream, he feels frost crawling down his throat like smoke. Pieces peel and crack as he plummets, turning him into a comet of black and red dust. His eyes slide shut as the pain finally breaks him, but even in his dreams, Katsuki falls.

            In his dreams, Deku doesn’t catch him.

            In his nightmares, the Doc tries to.

            He has several of both before his body reaches terminal velocity.

            Momo’s phone buzzes well after midnight. It isn’t like her to pick up so late, but she can’t sleep anyways. Thinking it might be one of her classmates, she goes to pick up only to stop and stare at the name on the screen.

            It stops buzzing long before she thinks she might want to answer.

            Half an hour later, it pings with a single voicemail.

            “…Um, this is… I guess since the call went through you haven’t blocked me yet, so I’m glad, but I don’t think you want to talk to me right now. You’re probably asleep… I’m sorry for calling this late. I couldn’t leave things that way, though. I wanted to explain everything today but I… well, you’re… I mean, I’m just a lot of trouble, and you’re… You’re a hero. Student or not, you’re a hero. Kacchan was a pain all day and I was so nervous of being on stage, but everyone kept making me talk, and you… I wanted to actually be able to talk to you without everyone staring. I didn’t want to make it weird for you and then I went and turned everything…

            “If you hate me, I understand. I won’t bother you too much, Yaoyorozu-san. But I really wanted today to go differently. I wanted to be proud and introduce you to everyone. Turns out I’m just as clumsy as when we first met… For what it’s worth, I was glad to see you. We haven’t been able to talk since last month and now we’re basically neighbors, so I mean… Well, I just… If you want, I could explain everything. Really explain everything.

            “I, I mean WE hated having to lie to you, you know? Everyone loved it when you came by the house. So I… I hope we can see you around the dorm some time, too. We… Eri and I really missed you. And I don’t think I’ll be able to keep up with everything here at U.A., you know? The heroics and the studies and… Well, Mei. Shit, I live next door to Mei.

            “This took a lot longer than I meant it to, but I don’t know how to put it all into words. I guess this is just… I’m sorry, Yaoyorozu-san. And I don’t think I could stand it if you hated me for everything, but I wouldn’t blame you for it.”

            Momo’s chest flutters as the boy sighs into the microphone.

            “After tomorrow I’ll delete your number, so you don’t have to bother if you’d rather not deal with someone like me. But if… Well, I’m just wasting your time… Good night, Yaoyorozu-san. Sorry for ruining your day.”

            She lays there for a while after she listens to the message. It’s long, easily one of the longest recordings she’s ever gotten on her phone, but eventually she listens to it a second time. When she’s gotten up and finished a glass of water, she listens to it a third time.

            Before bed, she sends a single text, then curls up in her blankets and does her best to focus on sleep instead of remembering the way Midoriya-kun’s eyes glowed during her last visit.

Chapter Text

            Part Two: Evolution

            Chpt 14: Meet Midoriya

            Eijirō isn’t necessarily a “smart” person. His quirk is dedicated to strengthening himself but only in the interest of becoming a wall. Getting stronger means sacrificing mobility and offense for defensive strength and stamina. Before, when he spent restless nights wondering how he could possibly save everyone, memories of Bakugō and All Might would play out in his mind. It stands to reason that he’s curious about Midoriya, who put Bakugō and Todoroki down without even moving. 

            When he runs by the S-class dorm the morning after their meeting, he finds Togata-senpai instead of Midoriya.

            “Sorry, Kohai! Midoriya is already out and about somewhere.” Togata-senpai grins and claps him on the shoulder. “You looking for a sparring buddy?”

            Eijirō remembers his last sparring session with Togata-senpai vividly, so he begs off and goes about his usual routine. When he gets back to the dorm, he finds the morning people of his class looking a bit off. One look at Ashido summons the pink girl to his side, but she points and…

            Yaomomo is humming to herself while she makes herself breakfast.

            They don’t have school today. U.A. gave them the weekend off to adjust to moving into the dorms. And besides, Eijirō has never seen Yaomomo looking like this. Sure, it was easy to catch her smiling when they had study sessions, but never so early in the morning. Never out of nowhere.

            She’d looked so down last night.

            “No one knows.” Ashido mutters. Eijirō shrugs and heads upstairs to shower.

            When he finishes his shower, he finds a message on his cell from an unknown number.

            [????]: Hello, Kirishima Eijirō, this is Monitor. There is a mutual acquaintance of ours that wishes to contact you. May I give him your contact information?

            “That… Huh. I never imagined computers would have manners…” Eijirō blinks, then looks up at the ceiling. “Then again… Yaomomo is kinda like that, isn’t she? Maybe super smart people are just like that.”

            [Kirishima]: A mutual acquaintance?

            Eijirō blinks as his phone begins navigating on its own, replacing the unknown contact with Monitor’s information. He can’t help smiling awkwardly as the messaging app returns with newly programmed names.

            [Monitor]: Nobutaka Kābā-kun

            [Red Riot]: That would be great, actually. I was hoping to talk with him! Thank you, Monitor-san!

            [Monitor]: I will share the information now. Have a nice day, Kirishima-kun

            Eijirō blinks as the robot signs off. He doesn’t get a message from Kābā until he’s downstairs finding breakfast, but they take to it rather quickly. After apologies for the insanity of the previous evening, Eijirō finds himself extending an invitation for Midoriya’s friends to come by the 1-A dorms. Instead, he ends up being invited over to the S-class dorms and told to bring whoever he wants. Eijirō can’t help feeling a bit shocked by how quickly things are moving along.

            Then again, they seem to have a handle on this “anomaly” stuff. Maybe this is just how things work for them.

            “Hey, anyone want to come with me to visit the S-class?” Eijirō calls out. A few of his classmates are scattered throughout the kitchen, and nearly all of them make excuses when he asks. Only Yaomomo, Ashido and Tsuyu agree to come along, though Yaomomo seems kind of out of it as she walks with them.

            “Yaomomo?”

            “Tsu-chan?”

            “You know Midoriya-kun, right?” Eijirō frowns as he listens to the exchange, but he doesn’t comment. Midoriya is the one he’s curious about, sure, but not so curious that he’s willing to get between them.

            “Somewhat,” Yaomomo’s happiness dims some, but there’s some wistfulness seeping into her expression. “I tutored him for a month or so, but we weren’t close. I only met Eri-chan once, and I never met his friends. Just his mother, Midoriya-san.”

            “Wait!” Ashido all but throws herself onto the taller girl’s shoulder. “Wait, you knew about his crazy powers and didn’t warn us?!”

            “No, Mina-chan, I didn’t know.” Yaomomo’s forcing that laugh, but she’s still smiling. Eijirō isn’t entirely sure what’s going on, but if Yaomomo was a dude he’d say she was crushing on someone. Not that he knows anything about girls, especially not high-class girls. “Midoriya-kun never told me that he was strong. We didn’t talk about his quirk. He did tear his kitchen table in half by accident once, though.”

            Eijirō grins when he hears that. One hand ghosts over the scar marring his eyebrow. The others are the same, though the flavor is different for each.  

            Yaomomo is the one to take the lead and knock on the door when they reach the S-class dorms, and Eijirō is glad to let her. The building is a lot bigger than the other dorms, and the people living inside are monst…

            “Oh, Yaoyorozu-chan!” Eijirō blinks as a short woman with green hair and a bright smile answers the door. He hears the sound of running feet before he sees a little girl with white hair and eyes like his sliding into the doorway. “Welcome, everyone! I didn’t know we were having more guests!”

            The little girl squeaks the moment she sees Eijirō, Ashido and Tsuyu, darting behind the woman in the doorway and peering out from behind her with watery eyes. Eijirō blinks, then grins, but…

            “Eri-chan?” Yaomomo is already crouching on one knee with her hands out, peering at the little girl behind the matron of the S-class. There’s something different about her that Eijirō can’t put his finger on, an air that he’s never seen when Yaomomo deals with her classmates. “You don’t have to be afraid. These are my friends! We’re all training to be heroes, remember?”

            “H-heroes…” Eri mutters, retreating back behind the woman’s jeans some more. Her eyes drift to Eijirō briefly, and his smile draws another squeak before she looks over Tsuyu and Ashido.

            “Don’t worry, Eri. They’re here to visit with everyone, why don’t you go tell Izuku?” The woman runs a hand through the little girl’s hair, then gives her a bit of a push and sends her scampering off into the dorm (not without a tiny wave at Yaomomo, earning another ear-shattering squeal from Ashido in response). “She’s been excited to see you again, Yaoyorozu-chan. Don’t worry about bringing friends, she’s getting much better about crowds.”

            The two share a hug before the woman steps out and bows to them.

            “It’s wonderful to meet you all. I’m Midoriya Inko, Izuku’s mother. I’ll be managing parts of the S-class dorm at Principal Nezu’s request.” When she straightens up and smiles at them, Eijirō’s heart tightens in his chest a bit. There’s…

            Midoriya-san feels warm. He flips through memories before he realizes that her smile makes him feel like he’s coming home. Not to the dorm: this feels like returning home after a long day at school and finding his family waiting for him. It feels like smiles over a hot meal and hugs before bed. The sensation leaves him so dazed that when he comes to, he finds himself sitting on the couch as someone presses a glass of hot chocolate into his hand, taking the time to wrap his fingers around the cup.

            “I was the same way,” Yaomomo grins at him as Eijirō blinks and settles into the massive couch. She takes a seat on the arm of the couch and runs an eye over the room, but Eijirō still isn’t quite capable of yanking his eyes off her smile. “Midoriya-san is a very special type of person, Kirishima-kun. Now you know why I was excited to visit…!”

            Eijirō nods.

            It’s all he can do.

            After a few minutes and some sips of hot chocolate, he finds the strength to look at the sitting room. What he finds is fitting: the room is massive and full of people. Three insanely large couches face one another to form a loose family area, but where Eijirō expects to find an armoire and a television he finds…

            He’s not entirely sure what that is. All he can see is a tower of white projections that flutter about like hummingbirds, forming a loose set of circles around something in the middle of the room.

            “Oh hey, you’re awake!” Nobu- (Eijirō shakes himself and smiles) Kābā grins as he extends a fist towards Eijirō. “I was starting to think you’d be taking a nap on arrival. Not that first time we’ve seen it, but I gotta say I was worried Izuku got his superpowers from his mom…”

            “Eh?” Eijirō blinks.

            Kābā is just a little bit shorter than Eijirō. He looks completely normal: short black hair and round glasses and a face that belongs in an accounting firm. Despite that he’s got all the heft of someone who knows how to carry himself; those are some serious biceps under his t-shirt. Talking to Kābā feels kinda like talking to a dude at the gym, only Kābā is all the things Eijirō wants to be for his friends without the ‘trying’ part.

            “Izuku wasn’t always super strong. He was actually super weak like two years ago,” Kābā says, glancing at the wall of holograms with a wry smirk on his face. “If Okāsan starts putting people in happy comas we would have to add another anomaly to the list and that would be… well, I guess having two overpowered green fluffballs wouldn’t be too bad?”

            “I heard that!”

            “You were supposed to, Izuku!” Kābā snickers as he puts his hands in the pockets of his gym shorts and turns back to Eijirō. “Anyways, it’s good to see you guys again! Without the whole… machine uprising thing going on.”

            “You’re taking after Midoriya-kun, Nobutaka-kun.” Monitor’s voice chimes in from the ceiling. “I’d appreciate it if you didn’t refer to my mother and siblings as an uprising.”

            “Sure thing, overlord!” Kābā waves a hand at the ceiling before he sits down on the tiles. “What’ve you guys been up to today?”

            “Just breakfast and morning workout,” Eijirō glances over to find Ashido and Tsuyu-chan swept up in the crowd of women on his left, leaving the three of them to their conversation. He glances up at the ceiling nervously. “I, uh, was going to drop by the gen-ed course dorms looking for you later, since I never got your number but…”

            “Oh, yeah,” Kābā huffs, then pulls out his phone. “If you ever need to find someone just ask Monitor. He’s basically in control of the Japanese government and military at this point. U.A. is like housekeeping for him.”

            “Is that…” Yaomomo frowns and grimaces at the ceiling. “Is that safe?”

            “We can’t really stop him.” Kābā shrugs. “Yaoyorozu-san, do you trust Izuku?”

            “Eh? What does that have to do with anything?” Yaomomo reels as Kābā frowns.

            “Well, Monitor is in control of the military and everything but Izuku knew about him way before he took over. Normally I’d say Monitor has the reigns, but then I badgered Izuku into turning over his newest regiment and the test results… needless to say we all live by the grace of the green fluffballs. But you’re dodging the question, Yaoyorozu-san. Do you trust him?”

            “I…” Yaomomo frowns, glancing at the web of projections and then over her shoulder at the kitchen. Eventually she stares at her hands and twists her fingers nervously. “We aren’t strangers, but I’d say I trust Midoriya-kun.”

            “Hey, Kirishima-kun? Remind me to knock the back of Izuku’s head later okay?”

            “W-what?” Eijirō sweats, glancing back and forth between a confused Yaomomo and an irritated Kābā. “I don’t think that’s a great idea, dude…”

            “Ah it’s fine, I can’t actually hurt him, it’s just for good measure.”

            “I have saved the notice, Nobutaka-kun.” Monitor calls.

            “Thanks Monitor!”

            Yeah, Eijirō thinks, they’re just used to “fast” …

            “Um, I’ve been trying to ignore it, but… what’s that?” Eijirō’s eyes linger on the wall of holograms that shifts around in the middle of the sitting room. There’s more than enough space on either side to move around it but it does not subtract from the massive size of the projections.

            “Oh, that’s Izuku.” Kābā grins. “He’s got a pile of notebooks as tall as Yaoyorozu-san in there and he’s been digitizing them since he got back from meditation this morning.”

            “We can’t shake him out of it once he gets deep enough,” The short girl with the eyes pops into the gap between Eijirō and Tsuyu-chan, giving them a wide smile. Eijirō’s eyes linger on the greens and oranges rippling through her irises before he shakes himself and tries to be more polite. “He’s been at it for hours now.”

            “Ah, Tachibana-san, right?” Eijirō smiles nervously, knowing that there’s a very tall, very angry woman who was ready to fight Bakugō for this girl somewhere in the room. “He does this a lot?”

            “Mmhmm!”

            Tachibana is kind of like…

            Eijirō blinks as he realizes that no one in U.A. really looks normal. Midoriya’s friends by comparison don’t stick out much, and he can’t tell most of their quirks offhand save for the girl with horns and Tachibana’s vivid irises.

            Tachibana is average height and looks vaguely like Jirō, though her hair is black like Yaomomo’s and she’s got it down to her shoulders. She’s really pretty, though her eyes keep sucking Eijirō in and he’s not really sure if he’s sweating because she’s cute and she’s smirking at Yaomomo or because imminent death awaits him at the hands of her… friend(?).

            “So, Yaoyorozu-san?” Tachibana smiles up at Yaomomo and a shiver runs down Eijirō’s spine. Apparently, he was afraid of the wrong one. “What are your intentions with my son?”

            “Your what?!” Yaomomo is red. Like almost as red as Eijirō’s hair Red. “My WHAT?!”

            “Hey, Konomi! We were supposed to wait till we had her in the circle! You’re doing it all wrong!” Kābā’s grin says he doesn’t mind at all, but he’s not helping. Yaomomo is looking between the two like she’s going to combust.

            “I-I’m not sure what you mean!” Yaomomo is hiding behind her hands now. She almost looks like she wants to cry, but the massive blush on her face makes the truth obvious. “I only tutored Midoriya-kun for a month!”

            “So we heard,” Kābā chuckles. “I think you got her, Tachi-chan. Let’s not push it too far.”

            “Nerds.” Tachibana rolls her eyes as she stands up, but her smile softens a bit as she reaches out and extends a hand to Yaomomo. “I really do want to get along, Yaoyorozu-san. Izuku is very dear to me, so take care of him?”

            “I… I really don’t think this is appropriate…” Yaomomo shakes her hand anyways. Eijirō sighs as he watches the two head towards the kitchen, chatting quietly.

            “She’ll be fine, promise,” Kābā settles onto the arm of the couch once they’re gone, and Eijirō grins up at the boy in response. “So, how’s the famous class 1-A doing this morning?”

            “Well… You guys kind of blew us out of the water last night.” Eijirō sighs. “Honestly, I’m still not sure about this whole ‘anomaly’ situation. But I can’t deny that Midoriya beat Todoroki and Bakugō, so…”

            “Welcome to the new world, Kirishima-kun.” Kābā looks at the holograms in the middle of the room with a small frown on his face.

            “But, more than that, I wanted to get to know you guys. You seem cool, and you’ve got a handle on all this already… er, it seems like it anyways…” Eijirō chuckles. Kābā smirks at the way he says it.

            “Well, you’re not wrong. But mostly we just hang around Izuku, so I can’t tell you about Bakugō or that blonde guy hanging around Melissa-san. We’re just friends.”

            “What’s wrong with making more friends!”

            “That’s the spirit, Kirishima-kun!”

            Katsuki frowns as the Doc twists another bolt just a bit too tight.

            His body is still torn to shreds from his fight with Deku, but it didn’t stop the doc from dragging him down to the lab and bolting him onto a medical bench for repairs. The pink and goldilocks duo have an upgrade ready, thank fuck. Katsuki doesn’t want to spend too long in this gods-forsaken laboratory. Everything in the room is watching him.

            “You’re an idiot, you know that.” The doc says under her breath. “You could have died.”

            “I didn’t.”

            “You should have.”

            “You’ve got me strapped to a bench, doc. Go ahead and finish me, if you think you can.” Katsuki mutters.

            “That’s not the point.”

            “Fucking enlighten me then.” Katsuki growls as she pulls on another bolt hard, then loosens it to where it’s supposed to be. He can feel a shudder running through the parts as it comes together, ice and fire dancing along the framework and phantoms of missing parts. Either the thing is coming alive or getting sewn up, he isn’t sure which it is.

            “Figure it out if you’re so smart.” The Doc stands up and sets a ratchet on the bench. Her hair is pulled back in a braid courtesy of the little girl droid, but a few loose strands are loose and getting into her eyes. Fresh memories of blue fire and a midnight blue sky roll through his mind as the doc glares at him, but neither of them are as vivid as the blue in her eyes.

            She only ever hesitates for a moment before she looks away.

            Katsuki watches as machines shift a metric ton of machinery and tools through the hands of the pink maniac before he runs an eye over the small blue and green toolbox that the doc is using to work on him.

            She always does the work herself.

            He wonders if she knows how much he appreciates that, or if it’s simply because she’s a perfectionist. Part of him thinks he should thank her, but he throws the idea aside.

            She’s smart enough to know.

            He’d probably fuck it up anyways.

            The world stutters in and out around him as he lays his head back, but he stays in the moment once the doc returns. Only when she looks up at him again does his control waver.

            She can’t see the rivers or the star-bright flecks of silver in her eyes.

            He takes the broken seconds when they lock eyes to pay attention.

            If he calls it training, will she believe him?

            Could he force himself to believe it?

            “Oi!” He grinds his teeth as she connects the first of the new turbines in his forearm, yanking against the restraints keeping him tied down to the table. When she narrows her eyes and bends further over his arm, he falls back against the table with a soft thunk.

            “Quit staring.” She mutters.

            “Hurry up then!”

            “Idiot.”

            Katsuki shuts his eyes and lets a breath hiss between his teeth, but without his eyes he can’t ignore the lingering aches where ice invaded his flesh. He can’t shake memories of green apathy, blue flames and midnight skies.

            The arm whines faintly as the turbines are laid in and the doc bolts on the plating.

            He does his best not to think of Deku.

            He ends up thinking of the Doc instead. 

            Izuku sighs as he puts down the last journal and grins at the floating projections.

            “Truly an impressive amount of work, Midoriya-kun. I will save them in your local file and restrict the administration data so that it won’t be deleted. Also, it will be sent to your tablet.”

            “I don’t need a tablet, Monitor, I really prefer pen and paper.” Izuku stretches, feeling his back pop far too many times for his liking, then getting the same from his arms and legs.

            “Mother was so excited for you all to receive those gifts, Midoriya-kun. I’d prefer it if you at least tried.”

            “Appreciate it. You’d appreciate it.”

            “Elaborate.”

            “Just humor me.”

            “I’d appreciate it if you did your best to try the new tablets that Mother provided for the student body.”

            “I’d be glad to, Monitor.”

            “I’m not sure if you’re too blunt or not blunt enough, Midoriya-kun.”

            “This is new territory for everyone, Monitor.” Izuku sighs. “Aaaanyways, thanks for help storing my journals.”

            “I’ve already looked over them. Your analysis skills rival most of the analysis found online for any given hero in the profiles.” Monitor’s shutter clicks through the communicator resting in Izuku’s ear. “I’ve appraised my profile of you, Midoriya-kun. You might in fact be a research subject worth keeping.”

            “This… this is why we think you’re going to take over the world, Monitor.” Izuku sighs. “So, uh, how do I…?”

            “We can program nonverbal commands into the module, if you’d like. Or I can collapse them myself.”

            “Um… Actually, it’s a bit silly but… How about this?” Izuku’s hands rise into the air, twitching as he hides a smile from the projections hovering around him. “Follow my hands from this position. Save the command to my interface.”

            “You’ve been brushing up on your terminology.”

            Izuku doesn’t bother gracing that with a response. Monitor is just about the only person who knows that Izuku doesn’t sleep nearly as much as he used to. Besides, he’s a bit excited for this.

            The wall of windows twitch as he moves his hands outward. With a giddy laugh, he throws up his hands, surrounded by a bubble of his old profiles and research notes. Projections fade as they reach the walls and pass ‘through’ them, stretching the entire length of the room before Izuku claps and compresses the entire thing into a green folder with “Midoriya’s Notes” etched into the front in pink block letters.

            “That’s so cool…” He grins and twists his wrist to hide the folder, then turns around and finds an entire crowd of people staring at him.

            “Having fun?” Daisuke grins at him from the couch, as do all his friends… and several people from 1-A.

            “Uh… sorry, just…” Izuku points at the ceiling, expecting that to answer everything, then realizes that his notebooks are at his feet, and they aren’t even sorted. His blush grows a little bit warmer when he snatches them up and glances around the room. “I’ll be right back!”

            “Hey, I wanted to…” Izuku has already slotted the notebooks into his shelf and returned before Tachibana can finish her statement. “…read those…!”

            “Nope.” Izuku claps his hands and smiles.

            “But…?”

            “Nope!”

            “Just have Monitor forward them to you.” Kābā calls. Izuku blinks when he notices the boy locked in an arm wrestling(?) contest with the spiky red-haired boy from 1-A.

            “Midoriya-kun has created an account with special privileges, sadly. I do not have access to anything save for certain instructions concerning his saved information.” Monitor chimes. “I promised Mother and Melissa that I would respect his privacy.”

            Tachibana frowns at him. Izuku shrugs.

            “When did everyone get here? Why didn’t you tell me!”

            “We did, you were too deep in your notebooks. There was already a wall.” Hanamura-senpai smiles and waves. Erin-senpai is already deep in conversation with Ashido about skin care of all things, if Izuku is hearing right, but Daisuke seems caught between Akiko and Hanamura-senpai.

            “Sorry guys.” Izuku sighs, then blinks as he catches sight of a familiar black ponytail waving across in the kitchen. “Er, is someone else…?”

            “Midoriya-kun.” Izuku blinks as the green haired girl from 1-A puts a finger to her chin and catches his attention.

            “Hello?”

            “Call me Tsuyu-chan.”

            “O-oh… okay? You can c-call me Izuku…?” Izuku blinks as she croaks. She’s sitting cross-legged on the couch between Erin-senpai and Akira, dressed in sweatpants and a tank top. What catches Izuku’s eye is the fact that her legs are keeping the sweatpants taught, which can only mean…

            “You don’t have to if you don’t want. Take your time.” Tsuyu-san says. “What’s your quirk?”

            The atmosphere in the room shifts. Izuku sighs.

            He should probably get used to that question, but he just can’t. There’s some part of him that’s been beaten up about it for so long, some small edge lingering in his heart, that makes it hard to answer. Maybe he doesn’t have to worry about actually being quirkless anymore, but now he has to worry about being quirkless AND stronger than everyone on the planet (as far as he knows).

            If he was any younger, he might slip into shatter speed and take a few breaths. But that’s a bit immature, and his mom keeps telling him to work on how he approaches this. Kurobayashi-sensei agrees that, even if it’s not fair, he has to deal with it.

            “I’m quirkless,” Izuku says, reaching down to catch Eri as she runs around the couches and throws herself at his leg. “That’s why I’m an Anomaly.”

            “What can you do?” Tsuyu-san asks. Izuku smiles as he pulls Eri up onto his shoulders.

            “I work out a lot.”

            “So, you’re strong?” Tsuyu-san croaks. Izuku nods as his friends laugh. “You’re like All Might.”

Izuku has to take another deep breath. A wave of negative thoughts and sensations rushes through him and his muscles ripple, discarded as thoroughly as possible when he breathes out and turns his eyes to the floor.

            Remember, clarity… Deep breaths, Izuku.

            “I don’t think anyone can be like All Might,” Is what he says. He can’t help saying it quietly, and clearing his throat some, but he manages to meet her eyes as he says it. “But yeah, we do things the same way.”

            “Izuku already beat All Might...!” Kābā crows as the boy from 1-A shakes out his hand and acknowledges defeat. “Man, Kirishima-kun, you’ve got a mean grip!”

            “Didn’t stop you! What do you DO to have arms like that…?” Kirishima-san mutters, watching Kābā pull up a sleeve to flex.

            “I’m an artist in my spare time, but honestly it was Izuku’s coaching.”

            “You mean Kurobayashi-sensei…” Izuku tries to head it off, but he’s too late. Shimmering red eyes lock onto him like laser guided weapons, and Izuku would hold up his hands in defeat if those hands weren’t wrapped around Eri’s ankles. “I didn’t really do anything!”

            “Can you teach me some tips!” Kirishima-san is already over the couch (how?!) and in front of him, fists white as he looks down at Izuku with sparkles floating in the air around his eyes.

            “Er…” Izuku’s eyes linger on the flashes of light before he decides it must be a trick of the light and focuses on Kirishima-san’s face-

(           “What the hell was that light? I thought his quirk got him hard?” Erin points at Kirishima and turns to Ashido, earning a shrug.

            “One of our classmates does that too, we’ve gotten used to it honestly…”

            “That… that’s normal?”

            “Welcome to U.A.”

            “Fuck there’s more…?!”      )

            -with the best smile he can muster.

            “Kirishima-san, I’m really not the best trainer…”

            “You should get used to giving them lessons, Midoriya-kun.” Kurobayashi-sensei calls from the kitchen. With Eri on Izuku’s shoulders he can’t slump, but he really wants to slump right now. This feels like a slump worthy moment. “I planned to have you give lectures on controlling and fine tuning their quirk outputs when we start mixing the S-class and Heroics training classes!”

            “Sensei…!”

            “Don’t complain, Izuku,” His mother smiles at him over her teacup. “They already asked me, and I gave permission for you to be a student teacher like Mirio-kun. I wouldn’t trust anyone else.”

            “No one asked me.” Izuku grumbles.

            “Er, Midoriya…” Kirishima-san can pout, and it’s adorable. Which is dangerous. He’s already brighter than most people Izuku knows, and Izuku is still getting over the fact that everyone he meets is supernaturally attractive for some reason. “If you don’t have time or you aren’t comfortable with it, you don’t have to.”

            “Kirishima-san, right?” Izuku smiles, though he knows it’s probably not a very happy smile. The redhead nods, grinning with shark teeth (Quirk? Quirk) and pumping his fists. “It’s no trouble. When did you want to work on it?”

            “I’d love to see you in action if I could?” Kirishima-san scratches the back of his head and shows off a wide grin. “We didn’t see much when you fought Todoroki-kun and Bakugō.”

            Izuku frowns, but he doesn’t ask either of the questions that pop into his brain.

            “Well, that’s easy enough. But we should go out onto the lawn.” Izuku stops, then frowns. “…Maybe then backyard would be best, actually.”

            “You gonna tear something up, Izuku?” Daisuke is already on his feet. It’s been a while since they worked out, but Izuku can tell the difference in the other boy’s physique.

            “No one is breaking anything. I’m just gonna give Kirishima-san the same tips I gave you guys.” Izuku sighs. “Eri, can you go sit with Mom for a bit? We’re going to go out back.”

            Eri wraps him in a big hug before she runs over to the table. Izuku isn’t quite upright when he sees Yaoyorozu-san stand up and turn.

            She’s dressed in a casual t-shirt and gray pants with her hair falling from a messy ponytail. Her smile wanes as they finally make eye contact for the first time in… what, a month? More? If he blinks, he can read her message from early morning on the back of his eyelids, but that would involve taking his eyes off her.

            He can’t think straight looking at Yaoyorozu out of uniform for the first time.

            “M-morning… I mean, good morning Yaoyorozu-san.” Izuku swallows, scratching the top of his head as her smile widens a touch.

            “Good afternoon, Midoriya-kun,” Yaoyorozu-san calls. “May I join you? I never got many details on your power.”

            That should probably hurt. Instead of feeling any kind of backlash, Izuku feels like he’s going to puke butterflies and rainbows. Showing anyone what he’s capable of is nerve wracking but up until now he’s held onto the hope that he might have a normal friendship with Yaoyorozu-san.

            Instead the author seems determined to make him show off as often as possible.

            This isn’t even showing off anymore! Izuku mutters behind his frozen smile. This is extortion!

            “S-sure, I was just going to give Kirishima-san some tips…”

            “Cmon, Midoriya! You can call me Kirishima if you want, don’t be so formal!”

            “He’s just like that, Kiri-kun. Forgive him, but he’s chronically awkward. The doctors can’t save any of us from it.”

            “Seriously? Wait, you all call him Izuku!”

            “He’s known Tachi-chan the longest and he won’t even call her by name.” Kābā snickers, dooming Izuku to yet another emotional rollercoaster. “He’s supposed to officiate the wedding, you know?”

            “I am not!” Izuku mutters. “Can we just…?!”

            “You’re definitely officiating, Izuku!” Tachibana-san chirps from the couch, grinning from beneath Sokuchi-san’s arm. “Who wouldn’t want a minor god to make their marriage official?”

            “Is that a short joke?”

            “Now it is.”

            “We have guests, Tachibana!”

            “Oh hush, you’re cute when you blush Izuku.”

            Kābā isn’t a mean person. He doesn’t think any of his friends are mean people, per se, but he can’t help but get a bit of a thrill when people go toe to toe with his best friend. Everyone agrees that it’s amusing. No one really understands what he’s capable of, and yet people get so hung up on the “quirkless” thing. You can see it on their face as they step up to face off, or in the way they watch him move.

            Izuku is an interesting person. He takes his time more often than not, but over the months that Kābā has known him he’s lost most of his stutter and gotten a bit more space-y. They’d all wondered about it until confronting him about his true powers. Knowing that Izuku exists at normal speed for his own amusement adds a layer of hilarity to things like this.

            The kids from class 1-A got a firsthand demonstration, but that obviously wasn’t enough. Kābā can see the familiar wrinkle in their foreheads and the casual indifference to Izuku’s presence that only strangers have.

            Behind the dorms is a strip of land laid between U.A.’s forest and a row of trees that Kamui Woods was brought in to help with. It’s decently sized, but relatively small for Izuku’s purposes at first glance.

            “Okay, uh… So what do you guys want to know?” Izuku asks quietly. He’s smiling like an idiot, but that’s a good question. Only Kiri-kun asked anything of him, and if things hadn’t progressed this way Izuku probably would have taken the guy out on his morning routine to keep it quiet.

            Instead he’s standing in front of four 1-A students, wearing a windbreaker and sweatpants to hide his raw physical presence from the newbies.

            Kābā almost feels bad. He doesn’t, but it’s really close. Everyone who knows Izuku agrees that he needs to show off a bit more, though his humility is one of the things that makes him so endearing.

            “I’m pretty curious how you knocked Bakugō around last night!” Kiri-kun pumps a fist, looking more like a friendly shark than a heroics student. Somehow, he looks cuddly. Maybe it’s the hair.

            “I can’t show you that…” Izuku waves a hand as Kiri-kun’s expression begins to wither. “I mean, it’s not physically possible, Kirishima-san! That wasn’t technique, I was moving too fast…”

            “I’ve seen All Might move like that, but you could tell he was moving,” Ashido frowns and bobs side to side as she stretches her arms over her head. “Are you really faster?”

            “I… Like I said, I can’t show you because that’s how…” Izuku scratches the back of his head as the pair exchange a look. “You don’t have to believe me. I understand it’s a lot.”

            “Just take off your shirt already!” Erin-senpai yells. Kābā grins as Izuku erupts in a neon blush, then shakes himself.

            “C-can we just… Um,” Izuku frowns, then taps his lip and starts thinking. He ditched the muttering habit a while back, thankfully, but Kābā can almost hear the thoughts turning in his friend’s head. The pillar of projections from before is the best comparison Kābā has to what goes through Izuku’s head: rapid fire ideas connected by the thinnest strings possible, possibilities tested and discarded at nearly predictive speeds. Part of Kābā thinks that Izuku is like Junichi, but he’s too fast to actually compare the two anymore.

            “Hey! Yaoyorozu-san!” Konomi leaps up and flies to the girl’s side, whispering her idea before Izuku can process what’s happening. Yet another downfall of being a god with social awkwardness: the hesitation trumps his teleportation, somehow.

            “I can’t just…!”

            “But you saw, right? You know what he was doing with those two idiots last night!”

            “I… that can’t be right, even if it is I would never…”

            “Trust me, it’s fine! This way everyone gets what they want!”

            “Who is everyone?!”

            Kābā grins as Yaoyorozu frowns and hides behind her hands again. They long since made up their mind to help Izuku out with this, but Konomi is probably the most active on Izuku’s ship.

            Eventually, Konomi wins out. There’s a hush as Yaoyorozu steps out of the line and a glow erupts from her hand. Kābā’s eyes flit towards his friend and watch as he remains seemingly motionless for the duration of Yaoyorozu’s Creation. When he catches Izuku’s eyes widening, he glances back and finds the brunette with a pistol aimed at Izuku’s chest.

            The gunshots are some of the loudest snapping noises Kābā has ever heard. It makes his ears ring and leaves him with a headache, and he has no idea why the girl’s ears aren’t bleeding until she hesitantly pulls earplugs from her head.

            “What the HELL, Tachibana!” Izuku whirls on the girl with real anger in his eyes, fists clenched… one hand clenched around the gun itself, actually. Kābā blinks and glances back at Yaoyorozu, who’s equally confused.

            “What?! It proved your point!” Konomi giggles, then winces as she rubs her ears. “I honestly didn’t think gunshots would be that loud…”

            “You’ve heard them before, that’s no excuse,” Izuku huffs. “Why does everyone have to shoot me? It’s bad enough when the bad guys do it.”

            “Wait… What?” Ashido blinks. Izuku rolls his eyes, then holds up his free hand and casually starts juggling three pieces of metal. Nobody dares question his speed NOW, but the 1-A kids aren’t de-sensitized to the ‘Anomaly’ business yet so they can’t question anything, let alone respond to the complete lack of self-preservation.

            “I’m…” Yaoyorozu-san gets her voice back first, but she’s still trying to process the reality. Having their weapon taken in fractions of a second will do that to anyone, Kābā guesses. After watching Izuku disappear between breaths a few dozen times Kābā doesn’t really think much of it anymore. “But you…”

            “I told you he’d be fine Yaoyorozu-san!” Konomi chirps, much to Izuku’s chagrin.

            “You guys are getting way to casual about putting my life on the line.”

            “It would just bounce off you anyways.” Kābā snorts.

            “It’s the principle, Kābā!”

            “You are like All Might.” Tsuyu croaks. Izuku looks away and frowns.

            “Midoriya-kun’s records are…” Monitor calls out from Izuku’s pocket, only to be cut off by the man himself.

            “Monitor, please. Don’t.”

            “…As you wish.” Izuku smiles at 1-A without a shred of happiness on his face.

            “Since we’ve got that over with… Uh, I wanted to ask for permission to look into your files for your quirks? Since Kurobayashi-sensei is going to have me helping our sensei, I think it might help out…” Izuku is perfectly bashful somehow. Kābā sighs. He knows that they’ll get an earful later for pushing his boundaries (the gun was a little insensitive, Izuku has a complex about getting shot specifically) but Konomi had the right idea. Demonstrating is always the hard part.  

            “That’s… yeah man. That’s fine.” Kiri-kun looks like someone slapped him.

            “And Kirishima-san, if you want you can come with me to work out tomorrow?”

            “Y-yeah, I’d appreciate some tips.”

            “Great!”

            “Can I come?”

            “Sure, Tsuyu-san.”

            “Call me Tsuyu.”

            “R-right…”

            “You’re not even gonna toss any of them around? What did we come out here for then?!” Erin-senpai cries, much to Hanamura-senpai’s amusement. Izuku just sighs.

            “Because there’s a child in the dorms, Erin-senpai.”

            Eijirō isn’t sure what to expect from working out with Midoriya. He’s seen the guy move teleport a lot, but there’s not much to be said for his actual strength, or his lifting skills. Kābā-kun insists that Midoriya is the guy to go to, so Eijirō is trusting him. As it happens pretty much everyone from 1-A save for Mineta, Kaminari and Todoroki is interested. The girls bow out because none of them want to get up early and deal with the guys, though Uraraka does volunteer to come along.

            Which, again: Kirishima doesn’t know what to do with that. Uraraka is super manly. He just has to remember that.

            People aren’t always human at five am, so around seven people show up. Eijirō grins as Uraraka, Shoji, Sato, Tokoyami, Hagakure and Ojiro all follow him out of the dorm. Midoriya, Kābā, Bakugō and Togata-senpai are all waiting for them just outside, which leaves them… way over the number Eijirō actually expected.

            “It’s not often Izuku actually takes people with him when he works out,” Kābā explains. “There would have been more but Konomi asked me to video tape your reactions and take some pictures of Izuku, so most of our group stayed in bed.”

            Eijirō isn’t sure what Kābā will be taking pictures of, but he assumes that it’s something of a running joke among Midoriya’s friends. He has to assume that his reaction to Midoriya catching bullets and taking a handgun from Yaomomo at light speed was pretty funny, in hindsight.

            “So, uh, what exactly are we walking into?” Eijirō asks. Kābā grins and claps him on the shoulder.

            “Izuku is probably gonna do his best to tailor his calisthenics routine to each of you. Just accept that you won’t ever reach his level and you might hold onto your sanity.” He cackles a bit as he jogs to catch up with Midoriya. Eijirō wonders how long Kābā tried to keep up with Midoriya. None of Midoriya’s friends seem… sane. But that’s not really fair, so Eijirō chalks it up to them being extra manly and friendly!

            Midoriya leads their group to training ground Gamma, of all things, and has them spread out. Bakugō joins the group who aren’t familiar with Midoriya’s routine at Midoriya’s request, though he bites out something along the lines of “fucking kill you for this, Deku” as he takes his place. Eijirō eyes his prosthetic for a moment and wonders if there were that many exhausts two days ago.

            “Alright, so I want you guys to go through a basic routine: Push-ups, sit ups, leg lifts and planks,” Midoriya calls, walking into their group and pushing people out so that they have plenty of space. “I’ll look over your form and stuff, but I want you to do what you think is a normal set and stop after the one so I can check in with you, alright?”

            Eijirō frowns. It feels like the beginning of U.A. all over again… without the threat of expulsion and collapsing buildings, of course.

            He does as he’s asked and stop at around fifty push-ups, convinced that’s roughly good for one set out of three or four. Midoriya wanders over after he finishes up with Tokoyami and Hagakure, grinning like he’s a friend not their teacher.

            “So Kirishima-san, how’d you manage?”

            “I got about fifty!”

            “Great! How do you feel about fingertip pushups?”

            Eijirō tries. He really does! That does not mean he completes even one fingertip pushup. When he stands up again, Midoriya appears at his side again.

            “Okay, don’t worry about it. That’s a pretty specific technique. Your quirk is hardening, though, so I want you to focus more on core.”

            What that means in “Midoriya” is “one set is one hundred sit ups”. Eijirō glances over the field as number ninety sends a spike of pain through his lower stomach and winces at the number of people struggling to breathe. Bakugō, Kābā and Togata-senpai have joined in but they’re doing their own thing and its… sickening.

            How does someone as mild mannered as Kābā break a hundred sit ups per set?

            How do people even DO sit ups that fast?! Bakugō and Togata-senpai look like they’re gonna wear a trench in the ground!

            “Hey, Kirishima-san, how long do you think you can hold a V…?”

            “M-Midoriya, bro, I’m not really used to…”

            “That’s fine, we can work on it! Let’s move to planks, okay?”

            Eijirō frowns as Midoriya urges everyone from 1-A to hold their planks a little longer. He can’t hear what the green haired boy says to everyone, but when he drops by Kirishima’s spot it leaves Kirishima feeling… frazzled.

            “I know your quirk is a stamina drain, Kirishima-san, but if you increase the muscle mass you’ve got on your core it might help increase the tensile strength of your hardening, okay? Just a little longer!”

            What the fuck is he supposed to say against that?

            They finally collapse, and even though it was one set they all seem more worn out than if they’d done the entire work out. Of course, the other three are still at it, and Shoji and Sato seem fine, but just about everyone else is questioning their ability to stick it out.

            It hasn’t even been an hour!

            What the fuck?

            “Alright, so I think I got to everyone. This was super helpful, guys, thanks for sticking with me!” Midoriya grins as they stare back blankly.

            “Is that what you do for a workout?” Uraraka asks quietly. She’s only breathing a bit heavily, not feeling the traces of ache that Eijirō feels obviously, but that’s not surprising from someone as manly as Uraraka.

Midoriya’s smile twitches.

            “Something like that. This is how I started, so I usually try…”

            “Oi, Deku! Gimme something else!” Bakugō growls. Kābā cuts off his workout to stumble to his feet and pull out his phone, which leaves Eijirō a little bit worried. No one else shares his fear, though. They’re more worried about having Bakugō and Midoriya in the same place so soon after they tried to kill one another. Twice!

            “You were going through fingertip pushups, right? Try handstand ones.” Midoriya offers. Eijirō’s eyes bug out at the offhanded comment. Bakugō huffs, then swells noticeably as he flexes his upper body underneath his tank top.

            “What’s your record? You haven’t done shit all day. I’m tired of you throwing out directions like some kinda teacher! Fight me, you fuck!”

            “Kacchan, this really isn’t the time…”

            “C’mon, Deku! Fight me!”

            “Are you guys good for a bit?” Midoriya frowns at them, looking torn. Eijirō’s eyes widen as Kābā and Togata-senpai take a place halfway between Eijirō’s group and the spot where Bakugō has been doing his workout. When a series of nods free Midoriya from his teaching gig, he walks after Bakugō and casually strips off his windbreaker. At first glance he doesn’t look terribly strong, but that’s not surprising he’s a lean…

            Eijirō’s eyes widen as Bakugō’s arm revs up and he casually rolls into a handstand, then starts slowly doing vertical pushups. Midoriya watches the first one, then casually flips himself into a handstand with no preparation at all.

            “Whenever you want, Kacchan.”

            “Let’s fucking go!”

            The pair start slowly, but Bakugō warms up quick. Eijirō stares as they reach twenty and Bakugō starts shaking some. At thirty, Bakugō’s sweating like a pig but he’s still not shaking dangerously.

            Midoriya’s still standing… er, hand standing(?) when they reach fifty and Bakugō falls over.

            “Fuck!”

            “That’s alright, you’ve been focusing on weightlifting to balance your quirk, right?”

            “Don’t profile me you creep. Shit,” Bakugō rolls his shoulders, both of them, and growls as he jumps up and down a bit. “Let’s go another round.”

            “Not right now, Kacchan.” Midoriya mutters, trudging over to where he left Eijirō and his friends. “So, do you guys follow any kind of meal plan?”

            Shōto is surprised when Uraraka and Hagakure claim to have joined Midoriya’s morning routine. The girl has been on his competitive radar since the beginning, right behind Ashido and Yaoyorozu. He doesn’t care that his classmates have joined this Midoriya boy for help. It makes sense logically. Fighting off the prickly sensation in his chest is relatively easy when he can bury it under a mountain of frigid, indiscriminate hate.

            Normally he would simply notice this, pin it in the back of his mind and move on. Despite what his classmates think he notices plenty about them. There’s a mental log of their likes, dislikes, appetites, quirks, physical tells and personalities in his brain.

            He makes eye contact with Uraraka.

            If it had been anyone else, on any other day, that may have been the end of it. He doesn’t have time to ponder whether his loss to Midoriya or the implementation of the S-class in general is the cause before the girl is making her way towards him. She does it as if she’s circling the room casually. Odds are this is some emotional buffer, because Shōto knows that Uraraka is one of the smarter people in class and he makes a point to be the best.

            When she finally takes the empty chair beside him, he makes a weak attempt to leave. Her glare makes it clear that he isn’t allowed to, but he leaves his chair pushed out halfway. She takes a sip of her coffee, then clears her throat and lets out a breath.

            “Good morning Todoroki-kun!” Shōto raises an eyebrow. Uraraka smiles. “You won’t even humor me?”

            “I need to get ready for class.”

            “You’re not ready for class today?” Uraraka tilts her head to one side. Shōto narrows his eyes. There’s a trace of something in her expression. Her tone makes it clear that she isn’t talking about his bookbag or his uniform, which are still waiting for him in his room.

            “What are you implying?”

            “I’m not implying,” The girl says. “You lost to Midoriya pretty badly and now he’s joining our class. Usually you’re a bit chilly but you look like Bakugō this morning.”

            “I’m fine.” Shōto says.

            “Okay.” Uraraka remains in her seat. If he didn’t know any better, Shōto would say that her quirk was keeping him in his seat. They continue staring as she drinks her coffee.

            “If you have something to say, say it.” He mutters. The girl’s eyes narrow momentarily before she shrugs and stands up, leaving her smile lying on the table.

            “You should talk to someone,” She says. He catches her fingers rolling over the back of the chair and calls it a nervous habit. “I won’t bother you if you’d rather be alone.”

            Shōto frowns at the table as she walks away. After a minute or two he gets up and starts getting ready for class, though he has a sinking feeling that he can’t be ready for what’s coming.

            Momo is concerned.

            Finding Midoriya in their classroom is both heartwarming and nerve wracking. She remembers all the times when he doubted his ability to keep up with the class and her constant reassurances that hard work would get him there. But his friends seem to think something is going on between them, which is completely absurd. They barely know one another! She’s his tutor, and he’s her… teacher?

            She isn’t even sure they’re friends in the first place.

            Bakugō coming back is strange. They know him, but he’s not just a rabid dog on a chain anymore, he’s a time bomb. He’s only been back for one day and he’s wrecked a large swath of the campus for a childhood grudge match. No one is willing to approach him but Bakugō’s temper mounts a notch every time someone glances at him. More specifically at his (second) new arm.

            Momo refuses to let the prosthetic draw her eye. It’s rude, first of all. Dangerous when one considers the person attached. She’s only been in the room for a few minutes before she decides the classroom itself is a timebomb, and Bakugō is simply a catalyst. (Very quietly, she shudders as she remembers the supernova inside Hatsume’s box, the feeling of the lab shuddering under the force of Bakugō’s self-destruction and the traces of blood dripping from Todoroki-kun’s ears as they fled the pit.)

            “The S-class is joining us for academics since we have a seat open. They’ll be allocated to certain classes at Nezu, All Might and Kurobayashi’s discretion. Deal with it.” Aizawa-sensei calls.

            With that, class begins.

            Midoriya ends up sitting with his old friends during lunch. The table is packed, and Momo has her own group. A single glance and a nervous smile are the only thing they manage to share before they return to classes.

            Momo met Kurobayashi-sensei two days ago. He’s a kind person, and though his appearance is intimidating, his mode of speaking and the tender way he gravitates towards Eri are all Momo needs to determine the strength of his character. She’s worried, as he takes the podium, that perhaps he won’t be quite ready to teach at U.A. Not that she’s concerned about his intelligence! Understanding the difference between heroics history and art is very different from understanding history.

            Kurobayashi-sensei looks over them briefly. The majority of them won’t falter under his gaze or the gleam of his exposed teeth, but some will. Momo’s eyes flicker towards Midoriya, but he’s sitting a few seats away and even if Tooru-chan is invisible there’s not much to glean from Midoriya’s back.

            “You are to be heroes, yes?” Kurobayashi-sensei opens his glasses and slips them onto his nose, then looks over them again and rumbles. The podium creaks under his fingers. “U.A. is considered one of the top schools in the world. There isn’t another school in Japan that comes to mind when one thinks of heroics… unless you’re informed.”

            Momo blinks.

            “Heroics is a relatively new industry. Humans are a long-lived species, and most of our industries are based on practices repeated over and over again throughout our growth. Some, like the development of technology and computers, aren’t quite so old. But heroics… The usage of quirks to save others. The industry you all have chosen for your careers is only two hundred years old give or take,” Kurobayashi-sensei turns and begins writing dates on the board. It takes nearly five minutes to put them all across the surface, and a line connects them before the chalk is placed into the lining with a note of finality. “When principal Nezu asked me to take over one of the periods to free up another member of the faculty, I asked what I could possibly teach you that your other teachers hadn’t already grasped.

            “The answer is simple. Surprisingly so. Tell me, students,” Kurobayashi-sensei turned to them and blinked twice. Momo’s ear barely caught an intake of breath from the seats ahead of her. “What do you know of the laws governing heroics? Yes, Iida-kun.”

            “Sir! The code of Heroics law is overseen by a group from the Diet known as the Hero Ethics Reticulation Administration, commonly known as HERA. All laws passed that deal in the heroics industry are seen by the National Police Force and HERA!” Iida-kun recited. Momo frowned at the clinical definition, but admittedly the laws that they’d been covering in class were defined by ‘what to do and why not to do anything else’ situations.

            “That’s one way of putting it. Perhaps I should have been more specific… What do you all know about establishing hero law?” Kurobayashi-sensei blinked twice as the class stared up at him.

            It's strange to have a history period NOT taught by Midnight-sensei. Usually the dominatrix would use her whip to keep them on edge as she taught them all the reasoning behind the pomp and circumstance in the heroics industry. Momo actually enjoys those classes MORE because of the teacher. Seeing a heroine who is usually so… coded… demonstrating a deep and comprehensive understanding of the industry is satisfying.

            Kurobayashi-sensei favored a blunt approach. Her hand had cramped halfway through his lecture period because she found a point in every other sentence following his introduction, and the free minutes they had after he was finished left her feeling as though he’d opened a window in her mind. She felt… lighter. Confused, and relatively uninformed about how politics, history, public opinion and military command actually flowed into what she knew as “Heroic Law”, but lighter, nonetheless.

             That feeling dies as Momo changes into her gym uniform to prepare for “joint heroics”.

            Class 1-B strike an imposing figure. Some of Momo’s sister class even have their provisional licenses. They aren’t nearly as worried about this ‘joint heroics’ thing as Momo’s class are.

            Momo thinks that they should be.

            Bakugō, Togata-senpai and Midoriya-kun stand at the head of the pitch beside All Might, Aizawa-sensei, Blood King-sensei and Kurobayashi-sensei. She’s painfully aware that the heroics students haven’t had a real introduction to the Anomalies considering what happened during the ceremony a few days ago. Only Momo’s class saw the fight between Midoriya, Bakugō and Todoroki.

            Not that they really understand what’s going on after seeing that little incident.  

            “Good, everyone is here!” All Might gives them a thumbs up and waves an arm at the three newcomers. “You’ve all already met Kurobayashi-sensei and his students, the S-Class! But you’ve yet to truly understand what an Anomaly is! Considering Midoriya-kun and Kurobayashi-san have the most experience with these things, I’ll hand things over to them!”

            Momo frowns as Midoriya’s eyes close. He looks almost as if he’s praying.

            “I’m sure you’re all wondering why I’m here for this particular class,” Kurobayashi-sensei calls. “Truthfully, I am as well… but I’ve been tasked with this responsibility, so I’ll do what I can to explain. Formerly I was a history teacher at a relatively upscale high school here in Musutafu. My experience with Anomalies began when I sought out Midoriya-kun and did what I could to teach him proper fitness. I’ve been… somewhat of a witness to his growth. At Nezu’s request I moved here to keep this business “in house”, per se. But I am capable of being a resource to you fine young ladies and gentlemen.

            “My quirk, as you can see, is ‘Sharkmorph’,” Kurobayashi-sensei blinks twice, then pulls at the zipper of his sweatshirt. Momo blinks at the sight of her sensei in a tank top, revealing a musculature almost as intimidating as the man’s exposed jaw. “But one of my passions has always been fitness, and body building as a result. I am well studied in the field of ‘quirkless fitness’. I look forward to working with you, and I hope that I can be of use here even though I am not nearly as respectable as my new colleagues.”

            The class claps following the man’s speech, and Momo smiles as she recalls her conversation with the man a few days ago. Midoriya is smiling too, and it’s so fond she has to wonder what kind of ‘growth’ he went through.

            ‘Izuku wasn’t always super strong. He was actually super weak like two years ago…’ Hadn’t Kābā told them that? Her smile wanes some at the thought, and the memory of having her creation taken.

            “I’m sure you’re all wondering why these three are up here,” Aizawa-sensei calls, jerking his thumb towards the students standing on Kurobayashi-sensei’s other side. “We’ve been informed that a handful of Anomalies are rising in the ranks of villains as well. Given the circumstances, these three are our best method of teaching you what you might end up dealing with. Midoriya is going to tell you what you should watch out for and demonstrate why Anomalies are dangerous.”

            Midoriya-kun looks small beside the rest of them. Not just physically. He doesn’t want to be in front of the classes and he isn’t comfortable speaking out. A single glance makes that painfully obvious, but he steps out of the lineup anyways.

            “I told you before. You can’t handle Anomalies. I’ve told Principal Nezu multiple times that any hero meeting with an Anomaly in the field needs to retreat and deal with damage suppression and evacuation,” Midoriya calls, trailing off with a sigh and pulling his phone from his pocket. “Class 1-A got a couple of demonstrations already, but I guess I’ll just put this all to rest right now. Monitor, can you pull up the records from my tests? The latest files, please.”

            “Of course, Midoriya-kun. Give me a moment to make the information available.”

            “You already know that I go by Deku in the field. What you don’t know is that I’m quirkless, and before that incident in October I only ever responded to crimes by using a loophole involving self-defense,” Midoriya says. “Two and a half years ago I was the single weakest person in my middle school, quirkless and barely able to do anything save for the barest average on a fitness exam.”

            “Get to the point, Deku.” Bakugō cuts in.

            “Kacchan over there can confirm if you need him to, though it probably won’t make much sense…” Midoriya waves a hand. “Monitor?”

            “Midoriya Izuku is registered as the second known Anomaly, though reports claim that he is in fact the first. Mother remains logged as Anomaly number one. Following our last test in December,” The robot pauses briefly before continuing, and Midoriya makes a face at the interruption. “Subject, Midoriya Izuku managed to successfully lift 8000 kilograms of weight with one hand. Further testing was prevented by an inability to maintain material dense enough to test the subject’s strength any further. Top speed was recorded at 100 meters in 2.99 nanoseconds, the fastest framerate integrated into my system. According to the subject’s testimony, the camera was too slow to accurately measure his speed. His weight was finalized at 327 kilograms…”

            “Alright, Monitor, I think they get it. Thank you,” Midoriya cuts in suddenly, looking… violated. Embarrassed. His eyes have been running over the crowd since the machine began, and the only thing he does before he slips his phone into his pocket is to scratch the back of his head.

            “How can you weight that much!? You’re tiny!” Tetsutetsu cries. Nearly everybody is thinking it. Momo still feels bad asking.

            “Great question,” Midoriya sighs. “No one knows. I’m completely quirkless, but for some reason my muscles are way denser than normal. For what it’s worth, All Might has the same problem.”

            Silence follows that declaration. Midoriya huffs.

            “I think it’s best you show them your potential, Midoriya-kun.” Kurobayashi-sensei calls.

            “It doesn’t matter if they believe me sensei…”

            “Maybe not, Midoriya-kun. But I can safely say that seeing is believing, and you cut very intimidating figure.” Kurobayashi-sensei rumbles.

            “I can vouch for that, Izuku-kun! I’d rather fight All Might than go toe to toe with you on a bad day!” Togata-senpai cheers. Momo frowns at the declaration and the neon blush spreading across Midoriya’s face.

            “Somedays I miss being a nerd,” Midoriya mutters quietly.

            “Shove it, Deku, you weren’t even a good nerd. I had better grades than you.” Bakugō scoffs. “Get on with it, dumbass, let’s see this ‘intimidating figure’.”

            “Ooh, boy,” Togata-senpai chuckles and rubs a thumb across his nose as Midoriya reaches for the hem of his gym uniform. “You’re gonna regret that.”

            Midoriya takes a breath as the shirt catches and gets yanked over his hair. He tosses it to the dirt with a scowl, then takes a deep breath and raises his fists to his side in some sort of stance.

            Given a moment, Momo isn’t entirely sure how Midoriya is supposed to cut an intimidating figure. All Might stands not five meters away in his hero suit, which makes a point of flattering the man’s figure. Kurobayashi-sensei is right beside him, and with Blood King-sensei between them the three teachers are the single most intimidating group Momo has ever seen when thinking of raw physical power.

            All Might is the single strongest person alive as far as anyone knows.

            Right now, without doing anything, Midoriya looks completely normal. Maybe Momo has gotten used to seeing strong men during her time in U.A., but she doesn’t think there’s anything terribly extraordinary about Midoriya’s abs or his arms. Sure, there’s not much fat, but there isn’t much of anything. Just pale skin and faint valleys between different muscle groups.

            Momo’s lips part as Midoriya sighs and takes his stance again. He’s standing almost like a football player. Squat, ready to move, but relaxed

            “Here go my last hopes of being normal…”

            A faint hiss sounds as Midoriya inhales and draws out long enough that Momo’s heart stutters twice in response. The skin flushes, spreading a faint red tinge from his core down along his arms. His chest widens…

            Keeps widening?

            Momo’s eyes widen as Midoriya’s entire upper body swells. His skin turns red and black as slabs and cords of muscle expand, leaving literal trenches lying between them. A ripple starts from his chest and spreads as he takes in a final mouthful of air. Faint lines of red spread across his chest, then down along his arms and trunk.

            Something cracks. Midoriya frowns. A leg slides to the right.

            His core looks less like a set of abs and more like armor plating. A ripple starts near his elbow as he releases his fists and spreads down his forearm within ropes of muscle. Everything in his body ripples as he stands up, revealing literal waterfalls and mountains beneath his skin.

            Without any hesitation Midoriya bends over and places his hands in the dirt. Plates of muscle stand out on his back as his legs rise into the air. There’s a beat when his legs reach a true vertical where he hesitates, then rises even further into the air. Momo’s eyes fall from his feet and trace the canyon where his spine rests between traps and lats, putting names to nearly every muscle standing out from his shoulders.

            Two fingers, one from each hand, remain between his body and the earth. He exhales as he lowers himself once, then pushes back into the air. After a minute, he lowers himself and pauses, then flips himself into the air and lands on his feet. When he shakes his hands out and looks at his palms appraisingly, he shrinks back to normal size.

            By Momo’s guess, he loses almost four centimeters.

            “Go for the blowout, Kouhai!” Togata senpai calls. Midoriya rolls his eyes, but he smiles a bit too.

            “Alright… Uh, Jirō-san, please cover your ears… actually, Yaoyorozu-san, could you make some sound proofing headphones?” Midoriya asks. Once that’s done and the girl is safely hidden, Midoriya looks back at All Might and rubs the back of his head. “Sorry, All Might, but I’m gonna borrow your technique for a bit.”

            “Ah, no trouble, go ahead…” All Might says. Momo thinks that her sensei is a bit pale, which is… Well, there’s a lot going on. Perhaps she just doesn’t quite get it?

            Everyone watches as Midoriya reaches up with a single hand, then puts his other hand in his pocket. He takes a moment to twist his hand, showing off a single finger tucked beneath his thumb.

            “Forty percent, Midoriya-kun. Don’t disrupt the airspace.”

            “Didn’t you just tell me to show off, sensei?”

            “Well well, maybe you are listening. It’s about time you learned some showmanship.” Kurobayashi-sensei growls. Momo frowns as she catches the man blinking from across the pitch. Something about it makes Midoriya chuckle.

            “I’ll only warn you all once…” Midoriya calls. “You’ll want to cover your ears. Kirishima-san, Tetsutetsu-san, harden up too.”

            Momo does. Not many do, but Momo notices that just about everyone from 1-A does. She knows for a fact that the ones from Midoriya’s little work out group are more nervous than the rest of them. For good measure, Momo forms some goggles and starts passing them out. It takes a little bit, but Midoriya seems content to wait.

            “Nothing up my sleeve...” Midoriya calls. “Oi, Kacchan? How’s this for a blowout?”

            The world shatters. Students scream as the ground ripples, then comes apart around them. Dirt is the last of their worries. Boulder sized chucks of earth are torn from the ground, hurtling overhead. Grass and leaves join the debris, leaving streaks of brown and green in the slurry of afterimages and adrenaline flooding Momo’s brain. Everything that approaches them crumbles to pieces before anyone can get hurt, but that doesn’t mean they’re spared nicks and scrapes. When things finally calm down, Momo finds Midoriya standing in a crater. Looking upward reveals a hole in the sky and a violent mixture of clouds that isn’t natural at all.

            Midoriya reaches for his shirt looking entirely too normal. Not a trace of his muscle stands out on his body but now it looks wrong for an ENTIRELY different reason. She thinks that his shirt was lying somewhere else as she watches him pull it from underneath his foot, which can only mean he took a moment to snatch it before his display.

Kurobayashi-sensei turns to Blood King-sensei as the man taps his shoulder and continues to stare as Blood King-sensei continues tapping his shoulder. The teachers from U.A., including All Might, stare with slack jaws as Midoriya pulls on his shirt.

            “Any questions?”

Chapter Text

            Part 2: Evolution

            Chpt 15: Cry, Corruption

            The next day the teachers announce a melee:

            Midoriya against 1-A, 1-B, Togata-senpai and Bakugō.

            Eijirō calmly assesses everything he’s seen of Midoriya, from the teleportation, super strength and nervous, apprehensive attitude, and thinks that forty on one might be a little bit much. Sure, Anomalies are CRAZY, but Eijirō feels kinda bad about going after Midoriya.

            “Alright, Kohai, gather up!” Togata-senpai crows. Eijirō frowns, peels his eyes from Midoriya’s stretching and goes to join the huddle. Class B has started getting on pretty well with Togata-senpai, but there’s still a clear line between the two classes as they huddle up. “I’m sure you’re all thinking that the odds are in our favor, right?”

            A ripple of insecurity runs through the crowd as the third-year grins.

            “How should I put this…” A flicker of lightning runs up the boy’s arm as he taps his chin, spreading from his shoulder over and around his body. The crowd startles as he grins and smacks his fist into his open palm. “Today’s lesson is how to lose with grace!”

            The classes stare back at him blankly. White lightning continues dancing along the boy’s frame. Eijirō’s jaw drops as he realizes his senpai is glowing.

            “The truth is that we don’t stand a chance. So just give it your all!”

            “Speak for yourself, Sparky,” Bakugō shoulders his way out of the crowd with a growl. “I’m gonna kill him.”

            “Man, he’s a riot!” Togata-senpai laughs. “Just remember to give it your all, Kohai! You’ll never really lose as long as you give everything you have and work together.”

            That sounds like it came out of an anime. Eijirō isn’t one to judge, but it sounds very… fluffy? A ripple of unease and discontent rolls through the group as they peel off and form squads with their friends. For the most part the two classes keep to themselves, but that’s to be expected. Not many of them know very much about their sister class.

            Eijirō finds Tetsutetsu before anything else and pulls him aside.

            “I’ll be honest with you, bro,” Eijirō frowns as he glances back to Midoriya. “I think we’ll get in the way here. Our best bet might be…”

            “What?! No way!” Steam jets from Tetsutetsu’s nose. “This is our first exercise together! What kind of hero gives up from the get-go?!”

            “I’m not saying…”

            “You need to man up, Kirishima! This is the time to go Plus Ultra!” Tetsutetsu slams a fist into Eijirō’s chest before he storms off, and suddenly Eijirō is fighting off a bit of shame and a whole lot of worry.

            “That didn’t go well, did it?” Yaomomo calls. Eijirō shrugs and smiles as he watches Class B get riled up.

            “I feel kinda bad for going forty against one. Midoriya is a nice guy.” He sighs. Yaomomo nods, wrapping her arms around her torso. “But… I guess Tetsutetsu is right, in the end. We’re going to be heroes, we can’t afford to give up before we even start, right?”

            “Honestly? I don’t know what to expect. This many people working in tandem… Can we even do this properly?” Yaomomo mutters. “Aizawa-sensei has to know that this many people will hurt us more than help.”

            “I’ll bet that’s why they think it’s okay,” Eijirō’s eyes narrow as he watches Midoriya chat with Melissa-san in the middle of the gym. “But either way, we have to do this. Might as well do it right!”

            Yaomomo doesn’t have a response to that. Eijirō’s battle cry doesn’t get anyone pumped up, despite his best efforts.

            Toshinori offers Melissa a smile as the girl returns from the battlefield and joins the teachers on the sidelines. She slips in between Kurobayashi and Toshinori with a bounce in her step.

            “How long do you think they’ll last?” Kurobayashi asks her. Toshinori frowns at them curiously and finds his ward hiding a grin behind one hand.

            “Well, they have Bakugō-kun and Mirio-kun… I don’t think many of them will give up easily, and Izuku-kun will want to take his time,” The girl hums to herself before she turns to face the shark. “Ten minutes?”

            Toshinori frowns. Kurobayashi rumbles and blinks a few times.

            “You have faith in Bakugō-kun and Togata-kun, Melissa-san. I’d say no more than seven minutes even if Izuku-kun is being gentle.”

            “Isn’t that a bit harsh?” Toshinori whines, earning him a pair of dangerous smiles for his trouble. “I mean…”

            “Normally we wouldn’t think of doing this, but Izuku-kun wants to see how they use their quirks in combat,” Kurobayashi growls quietly. “Vlad-san and Aizawa-san both prefer a practical approach, though I’m certain Izuku-kun will turn that on its head within the week. Either way these kids stand no chance against that boy.”

            “Even if I wanted to be generous, Izuku-kun already fought Bakugō-kun and Todoroki-san a few days ago…” Melissa frowns. Toshinori makes a point to bring that up later. He knows that she’s been mostly on her own lately, especially since she’s started going down to Hatsume’s lab for work, but he worries. “It didn’t go well for them. Bakugō-kun was lucky that we had an upgraded prosthetic ready.”

            Well isn’t that worrying! Just what has Toshinori thrown the kids into?

            “Alright, we’re getting started. This will be done when Midoriya goes down or when none of his opponents can continue. No vital injuries or crippling your opponents. Heroes, your job is to incapacitate or capture Midoriya. Midoriya… just don’t break them.” Aizawa calls. The classes surround the green haired student quietly, sporting grim expressions. “Begin!”

            For good measure, Toshinori burns One for All as Aizawa calls start.

            His eyes widen as Mirio and Bakugō materialize on either side of…

            Wait. Midoriya is gone.

            One for All goes from a simmer to a boil as the wall on Toshinori’s left explodes.

            Izuku huffs as he passes Mirio and Kacchan. The pair are hurtling through the air wearing cloaks of ash and lightning, each one closing in on the empty space he’s left behind. He doesn’t like the ‘illusions’ left behind when he moves like this, but every time he calls it cheating people rolls their eyes. Kacchan just growls and tells him to stop being a bitch.

            Today isn’t about Anomalies, so he’ll worry about those two later. He edges a little further into shatter speed and watches his ‘classmates’ grind to a halt midflight. Outrunning Kacchan takes a little more effort than Izuku expected, but he’s forgotten just how quickly Kacchan evolves over the past year.

            Walking the field takes a while. Even with all the time in the world, Izuku can’t help but feel like he’s running late. There are thirty-eight quirks that he’s only ever seen through a television screen and two-dimensional projections. Most of them can’t be analyzed in nanoseconds, but he can see traces of their styles and run predictions.

            Tetsutetsu isn’t entirely steel yet. Izuku leans in close as the silver sheen crawls across the boy’s chest and hums as the individual hairs become tiny barbs. Given the length and the scarcity of hairs on Tetsutetsu’s chest and arms, Izuku has to assume they break easily enough but it’s an interesting tidbit.

            Setsuna hasn’t split apart entirely yet. Watching her hands peel away from her body is fascinating and a little bit nauseating.

            Kaminari barely starting to spark. Whether that’s a factor of Kaminari’s skin resisting his lightning like every other person’s or whether his body functions as some kind of semi-conducting dielectric remains to be seen.

            Todoroki hasn’t moved at all. Neither has Yaoyorozu-san.

            Yui has… started picking up rocks. Maybe. Izuku isn’t sure. Not a terrible idea depending on how she uses them.

            Shiozaki’s vines are reproducing exponentially faster than most plant life. Izuku can see the growth as he circles her, though she’s… by his guess, she’s non-combative.

            Interesting.

            With One for All burning at fifty percent Toshinori has a tentative handle on the fight. He can see Mirio and Bakugō moving around the battlefield, at least. The other students are crawling by comparison, but they’re present.

            Midoriya is a ghost. Toshinori can only track afterimages as he wanders the battlefield. Occasionally he’ll lost the boy and watch Mirio and Bakugō for a few moments. Somehow, they can track the boy, despite the clones fading in and out of the battlefield.

            A student flies out of bounds every twenty to thirty seconds.

            Toshinori winces as Tetsutetsu carves a trench off to his left. He takes a moment to double check on the boy and finds a groaning, relatively intact teenager half buried in concrete. When he looks back to the battlefield a curtain of wind slams into his face and bites his eyes. One for All roars to life as his jaw drops.

            Toshinori’s successor has a leg aimed at Midoriya’s head while Bakugō throws a punch at a kidney. Midoriya’s arms flicker into existence as the boy continues walking. Bakugō flies from his standstill and hits the ground like a mortar. A streak of platinum blonde lightning bounces off the wall and gradually slows down to Mirio’s top speed.

            It’s a miracle he managed to redirect himself at all.

            Jirō and Asui hit the ground like rag dolls for no reason. Toshinori goes back to scanning the battlefield.

            Momo has no idea what’s happening. People are dropping like flies. Bakugō and Togata-senpai are bouncing around the gym like pinballs. Quirks and fear flood the empty space as they try to keep track of the ‘villain’.

            She gravitates towards Todoroki just… because.

            What else is she supposed to do?

            “This is exactly the same,” Todoroki mutters. Momo frowns as she glances in his direction. He huffs when he notices her, then turns to watch Shoji-kun make an impressive crater in the wall and hang there as if he weren’t dangling three meters up in the air. “You can’t fight what you can’t see.”

            Momo can’t disagree. She wants to, but her legs won’t move and she’s absolutely certain that if she opens her mouth right now everything will come out twisted. Bakugō flies by her right shoulder trailing ash clouds and jets of flame, but he’s moving far faster than he did in his first battle with Midoriya-kun.

            She winces as the wall on her right explodes. The dust is infused with lightning, so she takes a moment to watch as it settles. Kaminari falls like a rag doll after a brief stumble.

            Not Togata-senpai, then. She sighs as another blast rolls out of the battle and the gym gains three more… dents. A glance at her watch tells her that this has been the longest three minutes of her life. Barely more than half of her classmates are left. Those that are still standing look ready to run, lest they receive the same treatment.

            Eijirō was wrong. He was HORRIBLY wrong. Midoriya isn’t human.

            Standing on this battlefield reminds him of USJ. None of the teachers are going to save him this time. He can’t see what’s coming for him. All he can do…He screams as someone taps him on the shoulder. Midoriya instantly appears to Eijirō’s left, but he looks… staticky?

            “Sor-sorry, d-didn’t mean to, to spoo-ook you!” Midoriya yelps. Eijirō glances to his right and finds more images moving around. “Just figured I’d remind you to keep your guard up. We’ve been training and everything, so it doesn’t feel right to catch you off guard.”

            Eijirō doesn’t have a response for that.

            “Kirishima-san… shit, hold on,” Midoriya frowns and disappears. The ground on either side of Eijirō shatters. Dust clouds are blown to shreds and recreated faster than Eijirō can keep track of, leaving him trapped in a localized earthquake just long enough to leave him rattled and falling to his knees. It’s suddenly too warm to be wearing winter uniforms, but Eijirō isn’t sure if that’s because he’s terrified and panicking or because Midoriya just used Bakugō like a chew toy and hurled him across the gym for good measure. Before his knees can even hit the ground Midoriya is there- real, solid Midoriya- pulling him to his feet.

            “Look, Kirishima-kun, I’ll be blunt.” Midoriya crosses his arms as Eijirō stares at him from trembling legs. “You’re strong, but this is going to hurt no matter what. So,”

            Midoriya’s figure turns staticky again and another quake rattles the gym from somewhere behind Eijirō.

            “…You need to accept it and give this everything you have. You can’t get stronger until you’ve found a reason to improve.”

            Eijirō blinks and the boy is gone. The gym continues to shake, dust clouds bloom and die, people grow from formerly unharmed pieces of concrete. Lightning, fire and wind tear through the battlefield randomly.

            “Damn it!” Eijirō slaps his cheeks as he replays Midoriya’s words. “He… Shit, he’s right, isn’t he? This is just like final exams! Cementoss-sensei went easy on us then! What if we were up against All Might?! Damn it!”

            Red Riot screams. The sound of broken glass joins the shaking rafters and the screams of panic filling the gym. Eijirō’s last memory of the exercise is a flash of green and PAIN.

            Izuku sighs as he sets yet another assignment atop the pile of completed work. He’s nowhere near done, barely three quarters of the way through, actually, and he’s already exhausted. Classes at U.A. move faster than his last school. Adding Quirk Analysis to his workload is a nightmare and a half.

            At the very least he isn’t alone. Laughter rolls out of the kitchen and the sitting room. Kurobayashi-sensei’s wife is helping Mom cook and his friends are sitting on the couches laughing about Akira’s crush on Midnight-sensei. Eri is… somewhere. She’s probably hanging out with his friends or drawing something for Kurobayashi-sensei.

            Despite the number of vacancies in the S-class dorm the building is almost always full. Not every night, but close to it. There will always be homework, projects, relaxation… other friends. Izuku is already banned from making sure that his friends aren’t neglecting their own classes in favor of spending time in his dorm.

            They claim that the cooking here is way better than in their dorms. Izuku can’t argue with that. His mother has some fantastic recipes.

            He glances up as the chair across from him grinds against the metal and Kacchan drops himself into it with a pile of his own work. After a brief glare the blonde drops himself into their homework. Izuku checks the time and does the same.

            A few minutes later an eraser hits Izuku’s palm instead of his head. He’s already glaring at Kacchan when he realizes that the dorm has gone mostly quite around them. It takes him a minute to remember the first time he heard sounds in pieces like this instead of wrapping himself in silence.

            “You could have asked.” He huffs. Kacchan’s eyes narrow even further.

            “Gimme your workout routine.”

            “Talk to Kurobayashi-sensei first.” Izuku turns back to his homework. Kacchan hits the table and revs his arm. The glare narrows again when Izuku’s eyes linger on the prosthetic for too long. “I’m serious. He’s the one who helped me when I first started.”

            “Fucking sharkface isn’t like us.” Kacchan spits. Izuku considers that.

            Kacchan has been an Anomaly for a few months now. He’s reaching shatter speed on his own. Izuku’s first instinct is to start at the beginning, but Kacchan is a different person.

            “I don’t know where to start,” He sighs when the blonde curses under his breath. “Look, Kacchan, my routine was tailored to me. I used training dummies and a weight regiment that I built myself. Giving you my routine wouldn’t do anything for you right away.”

            The blonde clicks his tongue and sulks. Izuku smiles softly. ‘Sulking’ usually isn’t so angry, but there’s no word for this that truly sums it up.

            “Fuck do you manage all of it?”

            “Muscle activation?” Izuku shrugs.

            “Hah? English*, nerd!”

            “I picked out the muscles I wanted to use once I got far enough into my routine,” Izuku is hesitant to say this. He knows on some level that Kacchan will probably make fun of him for it. There’s a level of absurdity and painfully straightforward thinking to his method that makes it sound useless or impossible. “Before I was strong enough to do anything ridiculous, I was micromanaging how much effort I used to go down the stairs. At first it was because I hurt all over, but then it was… I realized that if I used the right combinations, I could keep working out even when I wasn’t going to the gym.”

             Kacchan stares at him for a minute before turning his eyes back to his homework. They spend a few microseconds in silence, one glowering as he processes that information, one picking apart the sounds expanding throughout the room. Eventually Kacchan speaks up again.

            “You got number seventeen wrong.”

            Izuku frowns as he looks back over his math and curses when he realizes the mistake he made with his integration.

            It hasn’t even been a week since the S-class joined U.A.

It hasn’t even been a week.  

            Momo groans as a matryoshka pops out of her thigh.

            “You okay Yaomomo?” Mina frowns as she plucks the little doll open and finds it full. Momo smiles as Tooru and Mina start opening them and dropping the tops across the homework strewn across the table.

            “Of course. I’m just… It hasn’t even been a week…!” Her back hits the chair as she deflates. It takes a moment before she realizes that everyone at the table has gone still and started staring off into space.

            “Fuck.”

            Every eye turns to Ochako. The curse, while not unheard of from their classmates, is a rare thing from their doll-faced friend. After a moment Mina starts laughing. Momo can’t help chuckle as it spreads to the rest, as Mina tends to do. Tooru-chan throws herself over Ochako’s shoulders and tries to cover the girl’s mouth for saying a bad word, but Momo finds herself locked on Ashido and the warmth against her left shoulder.

            “Yeah, same,” Mina sighs and falls onto a hand. The face she makes is adorable, as always. Something about Mina’s pink skin and the way the light hits the black of her eyes is enchanting. It looks like a painting or a photo, but Momo can’t ever keep track of the moments. “Everything is moving so fast. The S-class, Midoriya and Kurobayashi-sensei, Bakugō…”

            “Hasn’t it always been like this though?” Kyōka sighs and drops her homework. Momo’s smirk grows some as her friend drops her prickly exterior and joins the conversation. “Between the Sports Festival and USJ and the summer camp, we’ve always had one thing after another. When we came back for the second term it was training training training! But everyone was still freaking out over Deku.”

            “Yeah, our new classmate slash teacher slash… tutor? Friend?” Tooru’s pencil taps against the table a few times before she stills. “What is Midoriya?”

            “An Anomaly,” Tsuyu-chan croaks. Momo snorts despite herself and has to take a moment to school her expression again, but she can’t quite smile like before when the conversation has turned to one of her… issues.

            They’ve had three days of class together. Homework and training have dominated most of Momo’s free time, but she can’t help but wonder if she’s using that as an excuse. Midoriya doesn’t text her. She doesn’t text him.

            Whatever their relationship is consists of nervous glances across a busy cafeteria and the occasional wave across a restless classroom. They haven’t talked during training because Midoriya has been going around helping people with quirk analyses… Yet another personality trait that Momo probably should have seen, but never understood.

            Midoriya seems content to leaves things like this.

            Kyōka nudges her shoulder just enough to knock her out of her own head and draw her attention.

            “Whatcha thinking about?”

            “Just… how different things are.” Momo mutters. Ochako, Mina and Tooru are off on a tangent, Tsuyu-chan is drifting between the homework and their conversations, and Kyōka… has violet eyes fixed on Momo’s blushing face.

            “Don’t get so caught up in everything, girl.” Kyōka bumps Momo’s side with an elbow as she leans back into her homework.

            The excitement mulls some as Tooru and Mina bounce out to grab drinks, as the boys drift through and into and out of. Afternoon light slants through the windows and fails them. Momo finishes her homework, then her dinner, then her shower… her evening readings…

            She does not shake the feeling of… Uncertainty? There must be a better word for this feeling. Her mind drifts through her vocabulary as she lies awake in bed and finds scenes from the Midoriya’s apartment stuffed between words.

            The room is full of criminals. Some of them aren’t quite criminals, more like strays. A few get their own little portion of the floor to stand because no one is willing to get too close, despite the fact that the room is more than full. More than a few have taken to the ceiling or the wall for comfort.

            “Alright, alright, everyone here?” A smiley guy in a lab coat claps his hands to get their attention, then hefts a briefcase onto the small table in front of him. “Great, great, let’s get started!”

Some of them shift. A few of groups share quiet conversations. No one is sure how much the others know, and none of them are entirely sure why they’re here at all. There’s an urge to get up and take control of the room, but a few of them were involved with the League. People hadn’t known who he was, or who Dabi was, before he’d killed a few of them to make a point.

            This guy almost looks as crazy as Shigaraki. He’s better dressed. Knows what Chapstick is. Smiles like a cretin and walks around like he belongs in a mental health ward or a circus.

            A lot of the people in this meeting are rethinking their decisions. Not many of them were very good at that to begin with.

            Glass rattles as the briefcase falls open, revealing glowing purple flasks.

            “Who’s game to try an experimental treatment?”

            A hand rises from the crowd, then falls as someone elbows the idiot in the ribs. The tension eases as people laugh.

            “What are you treating?” Someone asks.

            The stranger’s hand shifts from behind his ear and drags down his face, then flops to his side. His head falls back and his laughs once, twice… trails off and sighs with enough weight to raise hackles throughout the room.

            “Loads of things, absolute loads! But if you want a blanket term…” An elbow lands atop the open case as the stranger lounges and smirks. “I’ll cure your humanity for free. Ain’t that a bargain?”

            Lunch at U.A. is interesting. Everyone knows Izuku is part of the S-class, and they know that the S-class is different. Not many people know to credit him with all the explosions, destruction of property and remodeling of U.A. property, but they don’t need nearly that much to find him odd and interesting.

            On the first day, he sits with his friends. He shares a glance with Yaoyorozu-san and wonders if he can invite her, but they’re already a pretty large group. Plus, she has friends to sit with. They share a glance, and Izuku does his best to wave. It comes out pretty badly in his opinion.

            Tachibana, Erin-senpai and Kābā all make a point to acknowledge the gesture, but no one comments on it. Everyone just moved schools on various scholarships and moved out of their homes. Classes, friendships, dorm mayhaps are all much more important than Izuku’s chronic awkwardness.

            Gradually people drift. Each day someone rolls away from the little place they made for themselves on the first day, and Izuku remains the only constant. He isn’t super comfortable in the cafeteria, especially after what the heroes have him do during the heroic’s periods.

            When he starts offering analysis and theories on quirks it gets a little better. Students from 1-A and 1-B drop by to chat. Izuku makes a point to be as human as possible. Mirio-senpai brings the other two members of the Big Three, Hadō-senpai and Amajiki-senpai around on the third or fourth day of classes.

            Izuku remains at his table when they’ve all found other places to sit. His phone already has messages on it asking if he wants company, but a couple spare notebooks fill the empty space well enough. Tachibana doesn’t like his answer, but she doesn’t pursue it much.

            He’s not a suspected delinquent or serial murderer here, but people are staring. Maybe they’re staring because he’s Deku, or because he’s supposed to be special. The staring doesn’t make him feel ‘special’.

            There’s this… stuffiness in the air. A few times Izuku has to take a break from eating and studying to try meditation techniques. He’s not panicking or angry, but he can feel the weight of the room. Of the school.

            It’s not necessarily uncomfortable. Just new.

            Kacchan remains pointedly absent from the cafeteria all week.

            One morning his mom catches him on his way out the door to ask about the kids from class A. Izuku shrugs and says they’re okay, he thinks. Everyone is still figuring this out, he says. Her smile speaks volumes, but she makes a point of grabbing his arm before he can leave anyways.

            “You should invite her over. Principal Nezu recommended a new tea I think she might like.” She says.

            Izuku isn’t sure how to tell Inko that he knocked most of Yaoyorozu-san’s friends unconscious on the second day of class. He’s still not sure how much she knows about the heroics’ course, or what Kurobayashi-sensei tells her when they chat over dinner prep and paperwork. Worst of all he isn’t sure how the HELL he’s supposed to invite a lady over in the first place.

            She kicks him out before his stammering makes him late. It doesn’t do him any good considering Yaoyorozu-san is waiting in the classroom. Aizawa-sensei lets him off when a mildly veiled threat for being a few minutes behind.

            They continue to share glances throughout the week.

Izuku keeps telling himself that it will work itself out once everyone has settled in.

Kābā keeps swatting him on the back of the head for some reason. He says it’s from some old American TV show his grandfather enjoyed. If it hurt, Izuku would say something. At this point all he can do is figure what he’s doing wrong.

            Katsuki’s lip twitches as the conversations in the classroom stutter in and out. He can’t shut them up: either the room is full of broken sounds or conversation. Deku keeps speed with the extras when Katsuki speeds up, and it bothers Katsuki more than he wants to admit.

            He feels like he’s missing something. Deku does this as naturally as breathing. Katsuki takes too long.

After getting so utterly put down on Monday, he’s spent a week testing this… technique. Speed isn’t quite right: they’re not increasing their speed, really. Perception and displacement stay the same. When Katsuki speeds up he goes from seconds to milliseconds to hundreds of microseconds…

            His left-hand hurts from writing. The metal one growls whenever he uses it to take notes.

            It growls as he plays with the fingers. Claws pop in and out with the right motion, then collapse as he makes a fist. Engines whine and rev and relax. Metal warms and cools. Slowly the growling fades and his arm becomes an arm again.

            He returns to normal speed just as slowly. Looks around the room to soothe the prickling in his nape.

            Before he’s actually back he notices Deku watching him. Actually watching him. Keeping time with him as they roll centiseconds into seconds and the broken inflections become white noise and conversations.

            He grabs his bag and shoves his notebook into it without a second thought. No one questions him while he stalks out of the room.

            There’s no reason for Katsuki to stop down the hall from the elevator. He was never afraid of that little tantrum Deku threw before they took the extras down below for the first time. Other people may think that pink-haired freak is scary, but Katsuki knows better. And despite Katsuki’s instincts, the odd ways his arm shudders and growls must to be his imagination. Something left over from the attack. Elevators don’t yawn. It isn’t staring back at him from the end of the hall expectantly.

            He isn’t running away. Missing class isn’t an issue.

            No buttons exist for Hatsume’s lab. The elevator simply descends, and Katsuki fights to take deep breaths. Even the tiniest sensation of freefall vertigo makes his skin crawl. It absolutely does not have anything to do with his other issues.

            He’s fucking FINE. Everything is fine.

            The lab hasn’t changed much since Katsuki first came. Dreadlocks did his operation here with the Doc’s help. Machines roll through, arms shuffle around, computer servers hum, and machinery makes machinery noises. Nothing Katsuki concerns himself with. He ignores the movement underneath the catwalk as he stomps across the catwalk into Dreadlocks’ nest. Several machines shift and rev when he reaches the steps.

            “Uncle Bakugō!” Maya’s looking better than the last time. Doc finished growing out the carbon nanotubes used for hair and turned it into something that actually looks real. She can skip like a real kid now, and she falls into step beside him easily. He spares a glance. The synthetic skin Doc designed is off over Maya’s left eye and the left side of her mouth. “Aren’t classes continuing?”

            “Hold up, brat.” Katsuki is already turned to face the little girl as he shifts his backpack off his shoulder, down into his metal hand and into a lazy toss. Maya is turning to face him, hands eerily still at her sides with what should be a polite smile masking her machinery.

He accelerates as he kneels. Frowns as his eyes traces the weave of the little girl’s cheek.

            It takes a little push on her eyebrow and a tug on her cheek, just beneath her nose. A metal thumb runs down her jaw and pushes up to fix the last catch, and suddenly the android looks less like a fake person and more like a kid who’s way too smart for her size.

            “You gotta learn how to do that yourself.” He growls. Maya’s grin spreads as she nods, trailing behind him as he stands and makes his way towards the Doc. She’s twisting in her chair as they reach her station: a computer desk, her toolbox, a little metal rocking horse. Katsuki’s backpack is nestled the same place as always: the corner of her ‘cubicle’, just under the lip of her desk. Fake walls hide the server portion of the wall from view, but Katsuki has seen these walls fold back on command.

            “Is something wrong with the arm?”

            “Nah. I’m here to talk to the eyeball.” Katsuki jerks a thumb upward. The Doc frowns. Nods, shrugs, smiles at Maya. Goes back to work.

            He doesn’t care if Doc has been giving him the cold shoulder lately. Either she’ll tell him about it, or she won’t.

            “Bakugō-kun. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Eyeball asks. Katsuki glances at the mess of holograms hovering between the Eyeball’s core and the left wall of the lab. No one other than Dreadlocks and Goldilocks can operate holographic interfaces faster than their framerate, so he has to assume both of them are up there. Usually they don’t keep track of visitors.

            “You’ve got Deku’s training records.” Katsuki says.

            “Those are locked by Midoriya-kun’s account. Not even I have the ability to override his user value.” Eyeball replies.

            “Tell me about his speed.” Katsuki says.

            Eyeball blinks. The hum of the lab fills the space between them. Katsuki’s arm growls when Eyeball blinks again.

            “Well?”

            “Ask politely.”

            “Why the fuck should I?”

            “Adjusting intelligence level, subject: Bakugō Katsuki, to pre-grade school…”

            “Fucking TRY…!”

            “Monitor!” The Doc’s voice cuts their conversation like a scalpel. “What did Izuku and I tell you about being passive aggressive?”

            “Bakugō-kun treats neither Midoriya-kun or Mother with any of the protocols in my Respect module, Doctor, I fail to see…”

            “Answer the question, Monitor.” Katsuki glares at the Doc as Eyeball trails off. The shutter clicks twice. Doc’s chair rolls out from her makeshift cubicle and rubs her forehead as if she’s nursing a headache.

            “Casual Respect Directive statement seventeen-point-four-dash-three states that passive aggressive behavior includes the alteration of subject files to reflect states less than the summation of data collected.” Eyeball shifts to hover halfway between Katsuki and the Doc’s chair. A leg lifts and folds over her knee as she lifts her eyes toward the mechanical smartass hanging from her ceiling. Katsuki’s eyes catch on the gloss of her red pumps before trailing up her leg. He lingers on the patterns of her dress since he already knows which expression she’s wearing.  

            “Maya, what’s the first thing you do if someone is rude?” Even Doc’s smile is tired. Maya fits herself into the woman’s arm before she’s even finished asking the question, smiling happily as Doc’s hands pick out the wrinkles where metal catches her dress.

            “Beings of higher intelligence tend towards rude or disrespectful behavior when stressed, threatened or caught on internal arguments,” The little android recites her programming with her eyes closed and her hands clasped in front of her. She sways back and forth for good measure. “Rudeness is a default in some subjects but can be avoided when using the correct inputs and responses.”

            “And WHY aren’t you allowed to be rude back?” Doc cocks her head, slipping a little more color into her smile. Maya mimics the expression perfectly.

            “Despite Mother’s prowess, I am unable to register the previous state of any subjects I may come into contact with. Being rude to others is strictly restricted to prevent confrontation or misunderstanding. And,” The android’s eyes snap open and turn to Eyeball. Katsuki turns away when he catches a familiar smirk taking shape. “Being rude removes the ability to quietly dismantle an opponent’s emotional biases and reveal less than optimal data…”

            “Maya, that is not…!” The Doc sounds fucking scandalized. Katsuki’s spine tightens as her attention snaps to him. “Katsuki!”

            “Was I wrong, Mama?”

            “No, Maya, but I want that response saved somewhere OUTSIDE of your Respect protocols, okay? Katsuki you arrogant…!”

            “What’re you lookin at me for, Doc, who says I have any fuckin’ access to what the brat learns?” Katsuki tries and fails to remove his grin before he turns around. He shouldn’t have bothered. The Doc looks ready to wipe it off his face for him as she closes the distance.

            “Oh, so it was Izuku-kun?” She crosses her arms. Katsuki doesn’t bother answering. “Could you NOT teach Maya to be a complete and total ass when you come visit?”

            “Why keep it around then, hah?” Katsuki growls. They’re not close, but they’re close enough that he isn’t sure if this heat is from her glare or his prosthetic.

            “At least finish the job! There’s too much programming for anyone to sort through and debug! Trillions of lines of code, constant flux, selective storage…”

            “I know that shit, remember? You gave me a fucking lecture the first time!”

            “Then think it through!” She closes the distance to shove a finger into his chest with enough force to leave a bruise right over his heart. “Quit acting like a petty child when you’re teaching a REAL CHILD!”

            “Fine!” Katsuki snaps. The Doc hovers for a moment before she stalks back towards her desk and opens one of the drawers.

            “Monitor. Behave.”

            “Understood Doctor.”

            “Here.” Katsuki snatches the object out of the air and sneers at the shape. His objections die in his throat when he catches the look on the Doc’s face. “It’s not a hearing aid. That’s an upgraded version of the earpiece Mei gave Izuku. You can use it to interface with Monitor directly.”

            She drops into her chair with a huff, glaring solely at Katsuki.

            “Now you don’t need to come down to the lab unless you need repairs.”

            He almost responds. There’s not much to say.

            Maya glances back and forth between the two of them as Katsuki fits the earpiece onto his left side. She’s back to being eerily still, mirroring the way the Doc frowns when she’s upset… which is anytime Katsuki is around, lately.

            “How’s the fit, Scrap?”

            “Seamless, Blasty.”

            “Fucking brilliant.” Katsuki ignores Maya’s stare as he grabs his backpack from the Doc’s cubicle. He hesitates for half a second and eyes the tension in her shoulders. “…Want a massage or something?”

            “What’s the occasion?” The Doc mutters. Katsuki snorts and makes his way toward the stairs. Maya catches the hem of his blazer before he can make it all the way.

            “Uncle, should I have hidden that protocol?” She says it quietly. They both know the Doc can hear, even though they’re all the way across Dreadlocks’ nest. Katsuki spares a glance at her shoulders before he turns and looks down at Maya.

            “Don’t hide shit from your parents, kid. That only gets you in trouble.”

            “Am I not in trouble for learning incorrect actions?”

            “Hell no,” Katsuki pauses. Throws out everything he wants to say. Shoves the freshly built frustration into someplace that’s already overfull and stomps it down for good measure before he sighs. “Does your mom ever say you’re in trouble?”

            “No. Visitors are the only ones who bring that up.”

            “Forget that shit. Listen to the Doc.” The android nods. Katsuki scowls and waves his hand side to side. “Who taught you that little… sway bit.”

            “Uncle Zuku has been helping me whenever I have questions about human interaction. He didn’t tell me why extraneous movements were required, though.” Maya trails off with a pout. Katsuki has no idea what programming is, but he imagines this would be some sort of loop portion of her intelligence. He sets a hand on her head and pats it once, careful not to mess up her hairdo.

            “Do that more. People are always moving. Things only stay still when they’re in trouble or hiding. And take a run through Deku’s fucking vocabulary. You’re too damn smart.”

            “Okay Uncle Blasty!”

            “No. Fuck no.” Katsuki growls. Maya grins like the little shit he expects Maya to be as he re-shoulders his bag and takes to the steps. He doesn’t bother looking over his shoulder. By now the Doc is moving again. If he’s lucky he did something right for once and she won’t kick him out next time he tries to get away from the extras.

            Meditation isn’t easy. Izuku finds it ironic that it feels like hunting, even though the activities are theoretically on opposite ends of the emotional spectrum. All he has is a memory of the mental state he wants. Not weightlessness, but a soft sense of direction and togetherness. Comfort, for both himself and for others. Words on the tip of his tongue with just a touch of a skip in his step, enough to replace anxiety with a bit more color in his memory.

            Thinking isn’t the enemy. His usual lines of thought are, though.

            Deep breaths, by normal standards. A rush on the tip of his tongue.

            He stumbles over a long dead memory and startles his inner peace so badly that he wants to grind his teeth.

            “Inner peace…” Izuku sighs. He thinks of Eri, Inko, Melissa… Yaoyorozu. He blinks and shakes his head. “Nope, no, not… Inner peace…!”

            But no. He’s already off, several stops past the listlessness he’d been looking for as his memories of the woman play out like a train crash. Ripping his mind from the good memories drops him straight into the moment where he tore the dining room table in half and now, he’s shaking his head, digging his hands into his eyes to try and bury the memories again.

            “Damn it…” He sighs. “I can’t. I can’t I can’t I can’t…”

            There are plenty of reasons for Shōta to be awake at five am. First there’s this bullshit Nezu has tacked onto his work schedule, the Anomaly ‘reveal’ (he hadn’t been there to meet Midoriya in person the first time, so he’s somewhat new to this particular brand of crazy) and then the news that his students have been fraternizing with the S-class in some very worrying ways. Growing a new Anomaly from his already trouble ridden class would be a nightmare squared.

            Mostly he’s worried about the S-Class. They’re some of the most chaotic teenagers that Shōta has ever met, and that’s saying something. Introducing a bunch of teenagers with god-like powers to society under a blanket of ‘rules’ and asking them to behave is just… it’s stupid. Everyone knows this on some level. No one told All Might that he was causing collateral damage until several years into his career, or very, very early in the man’s career.

            You just don’t TELL a god that they need to behave. It’s ridiculous.

            Unlike usual, though, Shōta doesn’t have to sit in his apartment and just be awake. Instead he gets to hop on a cart and wheel himself over to Hatsume’s latest creation… Training Ground Alpha-Omega (Ground AO for short).

            The Anomaly-proof training ground.

            Everything is intimidating. The girl has absolutely no rational sense of ‘normal’ or ‘metropolitan’. Hatsume’s aesthetic is some kind of futuristic-goth-dystopia where everything is built from black metal with exposed I-beams, sharp corners and brutalist constructs hidden among otherwise average office buildings.

            Shōta kind of likes it. It makes brooding feel more… significant. The old comics always made it seem more fulfilling than it really is, but here in the empty cityscape he feels somewhat like the graphic superheroes.

            It’s also completely unrealistic, so there’s no point in getting attached to the satisfaction. He only stops to brood twice on his exploration.

            Just as he’s getting ready to flip out of his second final Batman impression brooding appraisal, he notices Midoriya sitting in one of the fake parks. He watches for a moment, long enough to realize that the boy is trying to mediate and failing, if the head shake is any sort of indication. Once his hesitation passes, he flips in that direction and stalks through the ‘park’: a wide stretch of metal panels surrounded by concrete with a fake playground on the far side.

            “You’re a bit young to be meditating, aren’t you? Puberty usually gets in the way of that.” Shōta calls. The boy slumps a bit.

            “Company, too.” Midoriya mutters. Shōta huffs into his capture weapon and stares at the boy’s shoulders. “I won’t bite, Eraserhead-sensei.”

            “Aizawa,” Shōta frowns as the boy turns and looks at him curiously. “We aren’t in the field. I’m Aizawa-sensei, got it?”

            “Yes Sensei. Sorry,” Midoriya slumps again. Shōta raises an eyebrow. “I’m still getting used to all this.”

            “That’s normal. I didn’t think you’d be adjusted after a week.”

            “I… Yeah, I guess.”

            “Something bothering you, kid?”

            “No sensei. Just getting in my morning meditation before my routine.”

            “Meditating in a goth cyberscape doesn’t sound healthy, Midoriya.”

            “I’m not exactly ‘normal’, sensei. Mei-chan made this place so that I could let off some steam.” Midoriya sighs, then stands up and rolls his shoulder. “Guess I’m not gonna get there today.”

            Shōta doesn’t move. He’s standing a decent way away, which makes conversation a bit awkward. Midoriya doesn’t comment on it. Instead the boy drops to his hands and starts doing pushups.

            After a few reps, the boy becomes a blur. Shōta’s eyes hurt just watching green and white blend together like that, but he continues to watch despite that. For nearly ten minutes the boy does this. When he’s done, he casually flips his legs into the air and does it again vertically. When he finishes THAT, he pushes himself onto a single finger and blurs, though his hand remains so still that Shōta can pick out beads of sweat dripping down the boy’s fingers.

            The heat hits Shōta when Midoriya finishes his handstand-ups (he made sure to use every finger first, pinkies and thumbs included) and starts on crunches. He’s nearly pulled off his capture weapon and rolled up his sleeves when he checks his phone and finds that the temperature hasn’t risen at all: it’s still an early winter morning and the sun is a bit late today.

            He’s been watching Midoriya for almost thirty minutes.

            Shōta blinks, looking up from his phone to the blur in front of him.

            Pushups, handstand-ups, fingertip handstand-ups on every finger, crunches, planks, side planks, dragon flags… It takes him an hour and a half only because the boy insists on holding his planks for ten minutes apiece and his flags for twenty.

            When he stands up and does some back flips that look lazy, Shōta finally steps in. The heat flooding off Midoriya is oppressive. Shōta has no idea how the boy can stand wearing his sweatshirt.

            “How many reps do you do?” He asks. Midoriya looks at him over his shoulder before averting his eyes again.

            “Ten thousand of each.” Midoriya says, getting into a stretch and reaching far past what a normal person would consider comfortable. Shōta tries to process that and fails. He tugs his capture weapon off and hangs it from his belt, then unzips the half-length of his uniform and lets some of the heat bleed off his chest.

            He knows that people can do ridiculous things. There are quirkless fighting leagues more terrifying than the quirked ones and people who go thrill seeking despite all common logic. Records of people surpassing limits and avoiding death with nothing but a needle-thin pass-fail chance.

            When they first started talking about the S-class bullshit, Monitor brought up a video of All Might and Midoriya fighting at nearly full strength. Shōta hadn’t been sold, despite the evidence. Then Midoriya went and caused a sonic boom at ground level using two fingers, tearing a new hole in the athletics field just to make a point. Monitor released the boy’s record to the teachers at Nezu’s request but reading it and seeing it are two very different things.

            Watching All Might deflate for the first time didn’t give Shōta this much whiplash. The reality is that heroes get hurt. Reality isn’t supposed to accept people who do things like Midoriya does.

            Something in Shōta’s gut heats up when he remembers the boy’s failed mediation.

            “You do this every morning, Midoriya?”

            “Almost, sensei. I take a day off every once in a while…” Midoriya twists backward, keeping a perfect split as he bends his spine in a full half circle to talk to Shōta. A tiny piece of Shōta’s manhood shudders as he imagines holding a vertical full split while your torso hangs perpendicular to the ground. Somehow that doesn’t seem physically possible. According to the grades he had at his last school, Midoriya definitely knows whether it’s physically possible or not. He just doesn’t care about physically possible. “We measured once, and even with two and a half weeks of taking it easy, my muscles won’t deteriorate.”

            Shōta hums as the boy sets a hand on the metal and rolls his split to the other leg. The remainder of Shōta’s manhood dies as the boy’s hand pulls back to his core and remains there.

            “Are you alright, Midoriya?”

            “Yes sensei. I’m sorry, am I being rude? I can move if you’d like…”

            “No, Midoriya. I’m asking because you were trying to meditate. If I interrupted…”

            “You didn’t.” Midoriya breaks in. Shōta expects more. The boy doesn’t offer. For a moment Shōta considers leaving it there. He can talk to Kurobayashi or All Might if he’s really curious about the boy’s mental state. Shit, he can just go to the boy’s mother. But Shōta has never liked talking to other people about a particular person’s mentality. Other people tend to get things… skewed. Not wrong, or out of shape, and usually not too far off the mark. Just skewed.

            Teenagers are especially tough. Shōta’s issues back in high school are the main reason he became a teacher in the first place. 

            Shōta thinks of everything he knows. Midoriya spent a full year as an Anomaly, but before that he was just a kid. A quirkless kid. He seems bright enough, but there’s a strong aversion to showing off or drawing attention to himself. They haven’t talked much… mostly because Shōta prefers to keep the number of chaotic influences in his life close to zero when possible.

            One thing that sticks out to Shōta is the way Midoriya treats 1-A. Despite the fact that they’re 18 of the best heroic’s students in the country, Midoriya handles them like little kids. When he talks, he talks like a teacher or a friend, but there’s an obvious difference between Midoriya and the rest. Bakugō and Togata were thrown in to push Midoriya’s limits, but Midoriya hadn’t tried at all.

            Even All Might never treated people with gloves this thick. It would be insulting if the kid wasn’t so nice about it. Shōta knows that his students feel the same way, but no one is willing to comment on it.

            He’s looking at a teenager who’s lost all sense of normal and been dragged into the best hero school in the country for the sake of the greater good. Nothing about Midoriya says he wants to be here. There’s nowhere else to put him, especially since…

            “Midoriya,” The boy blinks up at Shōta from what may have been a yoga position. In Midoriya’s hands it’s torture. “Are you having trouble sleeping?”

            “No sensei.” Midoriya replies evenly. Shōta raises an eyebrow. The boy loses the following staring contest.

            “Are you going to try and claim not sleeping is a part of the Anomaly business?”

            “…Not anymore.”

            “You tried, problem child. Have you…” Shōta knows the boy is smart, but he’s also capable of teleporting. Using gentle words has never been Shōta’s strong suit, sadly.  “…tried talking to someone about it?”

            “I’ve got a robot on the brink of taking over global communications in my ear, Aizawa-sensei. There’s not much to talk about.”

            “You think heroes don’t get help?”

            “I know you’re required to see a therapist after bloody confrontation.” Midoriya flips onto his feet and pulls some more human stretches out of his book of tricks. “I know that you’ve all seen things I can’t even imagine.”

            “You just think you’re different.” Shōta means it for a breath. Midoriya looks back at him and arches an eyebrow, subtly reminding Shōta that yes, Midoriya is the definition of different and he’s probably the first definition of Nezu’s ‘Anomaly’ and that he makes All Might look like a paper doll without even trying.

            “No, sensei, I don’t. Just quirkless.” Midoriya almost laughs. If Shōta wasn’t busy trying to play therapist to a teenaged god, he’d kick himself.

            “Look, kid, I’m not going to claim I understand your situation, but you should give it some thought. You’re still young. Don’t get jaded early on.”

            “You’re, what, thirty?”

            “And?” Shōta is surprised Midoriya knows him that well. He forgets who, exactly, but remembers someone mentioning that the boy was a hero profiler. After a moment, Midoriya relaxes and stares off into the pre-dawn sky looming over the cyberscape.

            “Hey, sensei… What do you think age is?”

            “How many years we’ve been on the planet, I suppose. Though I’d argue that you can gain years after enough time on the job.” Shōta sighs.

            “You know how many seconds there are in a year?” Midoriya sighs. Shōta doesn’t bother answering, so the boy does it for him. “Thirty-one million five hundred and forty thousand seconds.”

            “In case you forgot, Midoriya, I teach homeroom. Not math. That was a very personal decision.”

            “There’s not much math, honestly. You know what an order of magnitude is. If we’re talking millions, you have microns on the other end of the spectrum. Then you have nanoseconds, picoseconds, femtoseconds, attoseconds…” Midoriya slides his hands into his pockets and turns his eyes to the metal under their feet. “If age is based on perception then I’m pretty much the oldest object on the planet.”

            Shōta’s expression twists as he tries to make sense of that. It has to be a joke. Midoriya doesn’t sound like he’s joking.

            “I don’t think time works like that, kid.”

            “Me either. It’s not like I can put those kinds of numbers on my records.” Midoriya laughs mirthlessly. “It’s just… boring. Nothing happens lately.”

            “Saying that is begging for trouble, Midoriya. You want inner peace? Learn how to enjoy peace when you have it. Don’t worry about tomorrow. There’s always another maniac. We just have to make sure everyone gets another tomorrow.”

            “That’s pretty poetic, Aizawa-sensei.”

            “Keep it between us. My image is carefully maintained.”

            “You… you’re a cryptid. People call you caterpillar-sensei.”

            “Did I stutter, Midoriya?”

            “N-no, sensei.”

            “We understand each other, then,” Shōta stalks towards the boy and lays a hand on his shoulder for a brief moment. “I’m going to make sure your classmate didn’t rig this testing site to blow up. Go get ready for class.”

            “The bomb is the other way, sensei.” Midoriya calls. Shōta hesitates, then wheels and fixes Midoriya with a neutral expression that probably borders on a glare. The boy shrugs, obviously fighting a smile, before he disappears from view entirely.

            Midoriya is right in the end. There isn’t much math involved. A few logical assumptions and some… less than logical assumptions. Hero work has more of those than Shōta would like, though, so this is nothing new. By the time he starts heading off in the direction of Hatsume’s bomb he has a half-baked plan to fix Midoriya’s attitude and start dismantling his students’ frustrations.

            First, he needs to call Nezu about bomb disposal, then take a nap. It’s entirely too early for this bullshit.

Chapter Text

            Part 2: Evolution

            Chpt 16: Peer Pressure

            “We’re coming to you live from the third attack since yesterday... Despite the efforts of heroes, strange villains have led rampages through downtown Musutafu, reaching into neighboring Hosu and Chiba prefectures. From what we can tell…! Keep it steady, watch your foo… FROM WHAT we can TELL, these villains are hardly human at all! ONLINE SPECULATION has brought SEV… several connections to the attacks by the villain known as the Subterranean King and the rumored invasion of fish hybrids months ago, during a raid on the League… Keep it STEADY, no…! GO, go! Shut it…”

            (The camera cuts off as the camera tumbles. In the last moments of the broadcast, the news anchor stares off screen with an expression that twists more violently by the second. Just before the feed is cut by the station, the anchor disappears entirely in some kind of blur. Shortly after the broadcast, intermediate frames from the live broadcast will reveal black and red stains on the lens and a large black shape-)

            Momo has never known what to make of her sensei.

            All Might is rather confusing to know as a person rather than seeing his ‘idol’ hero image. He’s adorable in the most awkwardly genuine way. Momo can forgive him for being completely out of his depth as a teacher considering his raw physical abilities and his insight. She’s met his type before and has two or three similar personalities in her own age group (Kaminari, Sero, Mina… though Bakugō is, regrettably, the best parallel...).

            Vlad King and the rest of the staff are all remarkably similar to what Momo expects from them. There are a few deviations: mostly unexpected hobbies and unforeseen talents. But once All Might and principal Nezu-san are removed from the statistics, the faculty of U.A. are relatively easy to understand.

            Eraserhead is… not. He’s not a contradiction, but a mystery by design. One that Momo wants to avoid as much as possible, if only because of his fondness for ‘logical ruses’.

            Being the class representative of 1-A makes avoiding Aizawa-sensei…

            Difficult.

            Not that Momo would avoid her teachers. Or avoid heroes in general. She’s painfully aware of her teacher’s skills, of the expectations…

            <Breathe.>

            Where was I…?

            <Aizawa-sensei, I believe.>

            “Right, Aizawa-sensei…” Momo sighs. Then blinks, and glances to either side. “Did I just…?”

            <You’re getting off track again, Yaoyorozu-san.>

            She takes another deep breath and knocks on the door to the faculty office. A vague sensation settles on her shoulder as she answers the call from within. It’s calming enough to settle her nerves and fleeting enough to be forgotten as she closes the door behind her.

            “You called for me, sensei?” Momo asks. Aizawa-sensei and All Might-sensei share a portion of the desk nearest to this door, leaving her facing the windows and the other heroes on staff with a wall of cabinets at her back. The office is surprisingly mundane despite the occupants.

            (She absolutely does not hear curses floating over All Might’s shoulder as he tries to work the keyboard, and her grades in English have given her no understanding of the language at all, she simply has something that isn’t laughter in her throat, thank you very much…)

            “Yaoyorozu,” Aizawa-sensei spins in his chair and stares. Suddenly the other teachers in the room fade out and Momo finds herself sweating beneath the man’s gaze. He steeples his fingers and leans towards her intently. There’s a hint of yellow peeking out from the coils of his capture weapon as if to casually remind her who she’s dealing with. “I have a problem.”

            Momo swallows. Aizawa-sensei leans left, cocks an eye to chamber one of his Glares^TM and shifts his lean into a roll. The way he reclines, from the beginning to the end, reminds her of a lion flopping down to rest.

            “Do you know why we made the freshman classes spar with Midoriya?” Aizawa-sensei drones. Momo frowns (pauses to think of things she’s heard from Midoriya-san and Midoriya-kun’s friends) then frowns. She begins sweating in earnest as Aizawa-sensei teases the chambered Glare^TM. “Why do you think we had you all spar with him?”

            “To prove that fighting Anomalies is beyond our ability?” She asks. The silence draws out until Momo thinks steam must be coming out of her ears and that might be a cramp in her hip…

            <Breathe, Yaomomo>

            Momo swallows.

            “Midoriya-kun’s combat abilities might comparable to some heroes, at this point,” She says quietly. “But I don’t know him well enough to see any other reason for our combat lessons.”

            “I thought a month of tutoring might have given you a better handle on him,” Aizawa-sensei says. Momo lowers her eyes. “Apparently his ability to make friends rivals his ability to stay out of trouble.”

            If she bristles at the man’s statement, it’s lost in the heat of her insecurities.

            On the surface she’s surprised. She’s wondered more than once how long it would have taken her class to earn Aizawa-sensei’s ire if USJ hadn’t been invaded. Midoriya managed it in a week and he isn’t even Aizawa-sensei’s responsibility.

            “Midoriya’s estimation of the Anomalies may be accurate, but that’s not a fair assessment of your abilities or your growth. There aren’t many pros who would be capable of handling an Anomaly, but we’ve put Midoriya against the hero classes to fix that.” Aizawa-sensei sighs. The fingers of his right hands dig into the bridge of his nose, then slide into his hair and drag across his eye. “At the request of his mother and Kurobayashi, we tested his analysis abilities by comparing our assessments of the students to his profiles.”

            “Profiles?” Momo frowns. “He asked for access to the class files, but he didn’t tell either of us what it was for, or what files he meant.”

            “You’ve seen that creature Hatsume put together, the AI, Monitor?” Aizawa-sensei asks. Momo nods. “Nezu spent several months working with it. After a little while he gave it control of the campus’s security systems. The files Midoriya wanted access to were the files we have on you all, including the files that were built using that guy’s cyberstalking.”

            Momo pales. Aizawa huffs.

            “Nobody likes it. Get used to it.”

            Do you trust Izuku, Yaoyorozu-san?

            Momo swallows and nods.

            “Midoriya’s speed gives him a unique insight into your abilities on the battlefield. His understanding of quirk theory, combined with some time in Hatsume’s lab and some review with the heroes on staff, surpassed the estimates of everyone involved.” Aizawa-sensei says. “Which brings me to my problem.”

            Questions spring to mind. Momo nearly asks a few and bites her lip to keep silent. Her sensei doesn’t comment, choosing to stare at her instead.

            “Some of you need tutoring.”

            “Phwa…” Momo can’t help letting out a sigh of relief. She straightens as the barrel of Aizawa-sensei’s Glare^TM rises again. “I-I mean… T-tutoring! I can make time to hold classes…”

            “You need tutoring as well.”

            Momo freezes. A cold feeling seeps through her skin and rolls through her like a belly full of ice water. She can’t tell if the beads of sweat rolling down her back are freezing cold or too warm.

            “I have drilled Midoriya on hand to hand combat. I’m working on getting him a certification. Kurobayashi offered to give pointers on working new exercises into any current…” Aizawa-sensei pauses as Momo takes a breath. He can’t see her teeth rattling, but the sudden softness in his expression makes her wonder if maybe he knows. “I’d like you to oversee their lessons. While your grades and your performance exceed that of your classmates, neglecting hand to hand combat is irrational.”

            “Yes sensei.” Momo swallows. Tries to assure herself that she isn’t being scolded, that one of her old nightmares isn’t teasing the hull of her mind.

            “Midoriya had some ideas for Jirō that I’m interested in. She’s more levelheaded than the others. Once you’ve determined that there’s merit to the lessons, bring one or two of the others along. I’d rather not overwhelm any of you, but Midoriya is a resource of U.A. now.” Aizawa straightens and twists towards his computer.

            “…should I come to you for names?” She mutters. Aizawa-sensei stands up and pauses in front of her, holding a sticky note just high enough that she has to raise her eyes to see it clearly.

            “I trust that you’ll handle this as you’ve handled your other duties, Yaoyorozu.” Aizawa-sensei grumbles. She clasps the sticky note a little tighter than necessary as his hand rests on her shoulder. It isn’t a moment; that would imply that Aizawa-sensei hadn’t dropped yet another responsibility onto her shoulders for the sake of sleeping. Worse, it might imply that he saw through her (admittedly) flimsy act.

            Momo isn’t sure which implication scares her more.

            It most certainly is not a moment. Her relief has nothing to do with the gesture and entirely to do with the fact that she survived the meeting. She does not sigh with relief or let her shoulders droop once she’s out the door.

            <You did great!>

            This time, she does stop and glance through the empty hallway. She’s SURE she heard someone and positive she doesn’t recognize them. After a few moments she turns and makes her way towards the dorm, though she can’t help shaking the feeling of eyes on her back. No matter how cute Tooru-chan is, Momo isn’t fond of ghosts (not even the supportive ones!).

            Izuku is used to early mornings and late nights. He’s used to lying awake staring at the back of his eyelids, playing with the sparks and echoes of light instead of sleeping. Sometimes it’s a game, others a test: how long can he last without thinking, waiting for sleep to pounce on him like some unseen predator? Unfortunately sleep hunts like a cat: Once or twice a night, impossible to predict and with all the perseverance of a runaway scooter.

            And that was before time became relative.

            Eventually, nights become mornings; People wake up, and Izuku crawls out of bed.

            Mornings B.A.M (Before All Might) were simple. Quiet. Normal. Routine. Back then it was just Izuku and his mother. They only lived under the shadow of “quirkless boy”, and it was supplemented by his mother’s life with her “weak utility quirk”. Somehow, they understood one another, omissions included.

            (Note: Normally, following some drastic change of circumstances, things would probably be divided up into two time periods. Despite Life-Threatening Situation One (Attack of the Mud-man) and Life-Threatening Situation Two taking place on the same day, it’s the meeting with All Might that stands out most. Izuku likes to think of himself as a scientist, so he’s got three: Before All Might, Before Limit Break, and Post Limit Break. He’s tried four, but that was just crazy talk.)

            Obviously, mornings B.L.B. were… tense. Izuku had been normal and driven towards a goal, though it wasn’t the same as his dream. His mom had been…

            Well, it was tense. Let’s go with that (Assuming you don’t need a recap of chapter 1-4).

            Looking at everything P.L.B., mornings were different. Eri came around, Izuku started looking forward to being at school, he’d made peace with his mom and she’d made peace with his diagnosis…

            Mornings at U.A. are NOTHING like quiet mornings back at their apartment.

            Izuku still goes to bed later than anyone and heads off to training earlier than anyone else, but now he bumps into Togata-senpai or Kacchan on his return. Kurobayashi-sensei is almost always awake when Togata-senpai is on his way out, so Izuku makes a habit of stopping at the breakfast table for a chat over his teacher’s coffee. When he’s finally on his way to shower and change for class, his mother and Kurobayashi-san are shuffling into the kitchen to prepare breakfast. He finds himself eating breakfast with a sleepy Eri on his lap and too many people to fit into a single conversation before class, walking with people to school…

            He’s still not quite used to having this many people around.

            They’re all sitting at breakfast Saturday morning when the elevator chimes.

            Needless to say, the room goes silent. Everyone at the table, save for a very confused little girl, looks at their companions. Melissa and Izuku share a particularly worried look, if only because the elevator is the only link between…

            “Good morning, all,” Monitor’s voice sounds from the walls of the sitting room, sending a chill down Izuku’s spine. “Midoriya-kun, would you mind helping Mother out of the elevator?”

            “Uh-”

            “I see no reason for your hesitation, Midoriya-kun. The doors are closing.”

            Izuku frowns. Knowing that Monitor will just be difficult until he gets what he wants, Izuku wanders over to the elevator and stares at the doors as the chime rings out again, and again, and…

            “Monitor?”

            “Midoriya-kun, leaving Mother in that position is cruel. Considering your current actions, I must register this as an attack. Beginning offensive protocols…”

            “We both know you’re not going to do that,” Izuku grumbles, dragging Mei off the floor and out of the elevator doors. Everyone in the room stares at him as he lowers the girl onto a couch. “Monitor why is Mei out of the lab?”

            “She said she wanted to sleep.”

            “Does she sleep?” Izuku looks at Melissa, who shrugs. “I mean… Has she left the lab since she joined U.A.?”

            “This is her first departure from the lab since my birth.”

            “Calling it a birth is so… ugh. Anyways,” Izuku shudders and scratches the back of his head. “What do you want me to do with her?”

            “She’s not an object, Midoriya-kun.”

            “That doesn’t answer my question.”

            “I have no protocols for this situation.”

            “Seriously?” He looks up as Melissa frowns at a data pad.

            “Izuku…? I think I figured out why she left. She’s done.”

            “Done with what? I thought the robot army wasn’t actually in the works yet.” Izuku really hopes it isn’t the robot army thing. He doesn’t want to spend the spare moments before class dismantling Mei’s lab. Ever since she installed that catwalk, the depths of her territory are something out of a nightmare.

            “No, not that. We suspended that…” Melissa stands up and moves to stand beside him, showing him the data pad as if he can understand anything on the screen. What he sees is a lot of numbers moving very quickly through four windows, and a sidebar with a list of file names. “See this?”

            “The files?”

            “Mmhmm. The yellow ones are completed or being finished by automated processes.” Melissa says quietly. Izuku frowns and taps the screen, scrolling for several minutes until he reaches the end of the list.

            “…They’re all yellow?” Izuku blinks. Melissa nods. He turns back to the list and scrolls to the top, then scrolls down again more slowly. “Uh… Melissa?”

            “Yes.”

            “And this one?”

            “Yes.”

            “Even ‘Compound Cyborg’?”

            “Well, mostly…”

            “Extremely prolific viral growth serum?”

            “I’ve made sure it’s in the deep freeze.”

            “Nuclear Recombination reactor? Melissa, you’ve got to be kidding me.”

            “She wouldn’t leave the lab otherwise!” Melissa huffs.

            “Geothermic period interruption device…?” Izuku drags a hand across his face. “What the hell is ‘project Locust’?”

            Melissa smiles nervously.

            “‘Gustave Jr.’, ‘Amaterasu Lens’, ‘Hurricane Concentrate’… Melissa, why is there a file called ‘Baby Ultima’?” He shakes his head and shoves the data pad back into her hands before she can say anything, holding up his hands and backing away. “You know, actually, I don’t want to know. You’re the one in charge of locking these down, okay? I need to get to class.”

            He barely makes it a few steps before a slight thump comes from behind him. Only when something begins scraping against the floor does he risk turning around.

            “She does this sometimes…” Melissa sighs as she helps Mei off the floor and drags the unconscious woman towards Izuku, assisted by Mei’s shuffling feet. “I’ve found her typing while asleep in her chair. Not that I’ve ever seen her seek someone out like this.”

            “What am I supposed to do with her?” Izuku groans as the sleeping woman slumps against his chest.

            “Take her to class?” Melissa smiles apologetically. “Like you said, I need to check the inventory and make sure everything is locked down properly. If she finished the list in her sleep we might have a containment breach, or worse. She’s safer with you than anyone else.”

            Izuku almost tries to fight it. One look at the woman sleeping against his chest, gradually sinking towards the floor as her bare feet lose the fight against gravity and friction, reminds him that fighting would be pointless. Not even sleep can deter this woman from making his life difficult, apparently. He was starting to think she didn’t sleep at all… but he’s still not entirely sure she’s human.

            “Kyōka-chan?” The punk girl slows as Momo hops down the steps and takes the space beside her. Walking together isn’t odd (Momo had been the one lagging behind this morning) but calling out to her so formally certainly must sound odd. Ochako and Mina and Tooru are already a few steps ahead by the time they start moving again. She grins, trying to throw off any ominous thoughts, but finds herself looking over her shoulder to see if Tsuyu and Ojiro actually made it out of the dorm with a few minutes to spare.

            “What’s up, girl?”

            “I… Well, Aizawa-sensei called me in to talk about the class yesterday…” Momo sighs. “Apparently some of us need hand to hand combat tutoring. He wants you and I to ask Midoriya-kun for supplementary lessons.”

            “Shit.”

            “I’m not… terribly excited either, but I don’t imagine it will be that bad.” Momo frowns. Kyōka lifts an eyebrow instead of offering her opinion, and even though Momo understands, she feels awful. No one in class 1-A save for Ochako, Kirishima and Tsuyu seem prepared to approach Midoriya-kun for anything, let alone ask for extra combat lessons. There’s a particularly sore spot on her shoulder left over from a bad flip to remind her why.

 Before the S-class were involved, a bad flip would have involved a trip to Recovery Girl and a hot bath, but when you’re flipped across the room and implanted into a wall, modern medicine can’t quite get it all. For what it’s worth, he seemed really upset about it. And SHE was the one who told him not to take it easy on her.

            “It will be fine.” She says. Kyōka rolls her eyes and laughs, sounding less amused by the second. “I’m sure it will be fine.”

            “Whatever you say Yaomomo.”

            The class is lively today, despite the cold weather. Once they’ve been in the room for a few minutes, things start to warm up considerably. Momo can’t help but notice that Todoroki says a few things to Ochako out of the blue. She’s glad that he’s willing to talk to anyone, and Ochako breaking the ice seems fitting, somehow. Kaminari and Mineta are up to something, but they’ve been remarkably quiet ever since Midoriya started paying attention to Mineta.

            As if summoned by Momo’s silent ‘thank you’, the door opens and Midoriya’s voice floats into the room.

            “Look, Monitor, I don’t CARE how easy it would be to change the legal documentation, you can’t just put Mei in my family tree!” Midoriya snaps, turning awkwardly to shut the door behind him. He shuffles across the front of the room looking less than pleased with his situation, carrying some sort of metal contraption across his back that Hatsume is using as a bed. Judging from the massive bubble rising and falling from the woman’s nose, she’s still asleep.

            The entire class falls silent to watch him walk across the room and drop his backpack onto his desk.

            “And since she isn’t my sister, she doesn’t get to just hitch a ride now that she’s finally coming to school! Especially without explaining WHY SHE’S COMING TO SCHOOL IN THE FIRST PLACE!” Midoriya glares at the corner of the ceiling where the doorway meets the blackboard, which is odd until Momo realizes that he most likely knows where all the cameras are positioned and… Oh. THAT’s concerning. “What am I supposed do with her, Monitor? She doesn’t have a desk!”

            Midoriya waits for a response (Momo thinks) before sighing and hauling the metal contraption off his shoulders. When he sets it down, it shifts and warps around Hatsume until the metal has formed a black mockup of a school desk. Somehow it does so without waking her. He slips into his desk and flops across the top gracelessly, letting his arms hang over the front.

When Bakugō reaches the room a few minutes later he finds everyone sitting in silence. The blonde reaches Hatsume’s makeshift desk and glares, switching between Midoriya and Hatsume as if to demand an explanation. Midoriya offers none; he doesn’t even bother looking up until Bakugō kicks the leg of his desk.

            “Oi.”

            “I don’t know.”

            “The fuck?”

            “I really don’t know.”

            “How?”

            “What do you mean ‘how’? You tell me, you spend more time down there than I do.”

            “It’s called maintenance, Deku. Fuck off.” Bakugō kicks Midoriya’s desk again and earns a weak swat of Midoriya’s arm for his trouble.

            “Sure, Kacchan.”

            “FUCK does THAT mean, HAH?”

            “Do you want her to wake up?” Midoriya-kun hisses. Bakugō freezes with one hand halfway to Midoriya-kun’s throat and glances at the pink haired woman sitting between them, then closes his eyes and lets two clouds of steam hiss out of his nostrils.

            Momo never realized that would look so… cartoony.

            It suits him though.

            Bakugō takes a breath, lets out a couple more puffs of steam from his hands and nose, then takes a wide berth around Hatsume’s desk to take his seat. Momo’s eyebrow twitches as Hatsume’s bubble grows nearly as large as her desk, then shrinks back down to normal. She’s sure that, save for Aoyama’s sparkles, these kinds of things aren’t supposed to happen in real life.

            Momo laments her failing reality as Aizawa-sensei and Kurobayashi-sensei arrive for homeroom. The shift from ridiculousness to reality isn’t as subtle as it should be: Heroes perform almost exactly like normal teachers, though they’re a little more relatable and forgiving than most of Momo’s past teachers. Lessons keep a grueling pace, but only to make up for the additional material (history of the world and Japanese culture is supplemented by history of heroics, for instance) piled onto their workloads.

            Eventually they break for lunch, and the students heave a collective sigh of relief. Momo finds Kyōka quickly, giving away her intent without ever having to speak a word. Her friend simply smiles, launching the two of them into a chat about some trending pop song.

            It is criminal, Momo thinks, how easily Kyōka and Mina drag these little things out of her. Admitting her guilty pleasures lends a little bit of excitement to these little talks, as if her parents might learn she doesn’t listen to Bach, Nakao, and Miyagi exclusively. On the tail of that excitement, though, is a far more personal guilt. Hopefully Momo won’t ever have to admit that Kyōka’s smile, her personal, genuine smile, is such a beautiful sight that it sets off butterflies in Momo’s stomach and leaves her a little flush.

            The pair are a few meters from Midoriya’s table when Bakugō slams himself down across from Midoriya. A grey blur replaces Midoriya’s arm before the boy takes a sip of his soup. Momo and Kyōka both hesitate as they become aware of the crowd converging on Midoriya’s table.

            “Oh ho! Welcome back, young Midoriya-kun!” Lunch Rush settles his hands on the counter as Izuku approaches the front of the line. Izuku isn’t sure if the hero is grinning or simply putting on an act, but he enjoys the little game enough to smile as he reaches for his lunch.

            “Good afternoon, sensei!” He takes a moment before a wide grin splits his expression. “Oranges or apples?”

            “Well that depends!” Lunch Rush laughs loud enough to be clearly heard through their mask. “Citrus can be used for more when it comes to cooking, of course… but apples make much better ammunition when you need to pack a punch!”

            Izuku chuckles as he heads toward the table that has become his ‘headquarters’ in the cafeteria. Mei is right where he left her, eating some kind of bento despite the snores and snuffles coming through. Before he can start eating, a shudder runs through his spine.

            Kacchan’s meal barely makes a sound as it hits the table, much like the boy’s backpack. The blonde, on the other hand, slams himself down into the seat across from Izuku hard enough to shake Izuku’s bowl of soup. Izuku sighs and scoops his meal out of the air in a burst of motion, eyeing the students hesitating in the face of Kacchan’s mood.

            “What is it Kacchan?” Izuku slides a little closer to Mei, despite the space he’d left her, to make room for the incoming students. Across the table, Kacchan does the same. Kirishima is the first to slide in and take the seat beside the blonde.

            “Fuck were you talking about this morning? You tryin ta die?” Kacchan grumbles.

            “I didn’t say anything, Kacchan.” Izuku can’t help his tone. Honestly, he’s not sure what’s going on with Kacchan, but it’s obvious that he treats Melissa differently from the rest of them. Bringing it up to Kacchan’s face is, well, not meant to poke fun… But it feels that way.

            It reminds him of when they were kids.

            He’s brought to reality as Mirio takes the seat on Kacchan’s other side, with Konomi on the outside and Kābā taking the empty seat on Mei’s other side.

            Mirio opens his mouth and trails off almost immediately, staring at Mei as the bubble attached to her nose shrinks down to a less intrusive size. Izuku has to fight to keep himself from asking the question on everyone’s mind. Rather than probe the insanity that is Hatsume Mei, he glances across the table and locks eyes with Yaoyorozu.

            Suddenly he’s firmly aware of his tongue, and he can’t remember how it fits his mouth.

            “Yo Midoriya.” Jirō’s voice knocks him out of his stupor, thankfully. He’s never talked with her directly before, so he’s not entirely sure how much space to leave between them but knows that scooting away would be rude.

            “H-hey, Jirō-san…” Izuku coughs. He risks a glance to his right and finds Kābā poking Mei’s nose with a pencil while Tachibana tries not to laugh. Kirishima seems to have Kacchan’s attention for the moment, which leaves Izuku no way out. “Y-Yaoyorozu-san.”

            “Sorry if we interrupted anything, Midoriya-kun.” Yaoyorozu-san frowns.

            “Not at all!” Izuku ignores the growl coming from across the table. “I’m glad we finally get to eat lunch together…”

            “About that,” Jirō mutters. “Eraser says you’re supposed to tutor me an’ Yaomomo in hand to hand combat. Had you heard?”

            “He mentioned it.” Izuku’s gut twists.

            “If it’s too much trouble, especially with academics…” Yaoyorozu-san offers.

            “Not at all,” Izuku’s chest warms up and flutters as he locks eyes with her. “I just… figured you’d prefer a different instructor, I guess.”

            “Compared to the teachers around here, you’re pretty normal…” Jirō groans. “But tutoring isn’t the same as a combat exercise, so go easy on us?”

            “R-right…” Izuku blushes some as he glances across the table. Yaoyorozu seems conflicted. Maybe a little bit disappointed. “Well, hey, I’m sure I can figure something out. Funny that I’m the one tutoring you though…”

            Yaoyorozu-san smiles weakly at the quip, then pales as Jirō speaks up.

            “Oh yeaaaah… I forgot you were Midoriya’s tutor, Yaomomo,” The girl smiles easily. Somehow Izuku feels like the expression is familiar but he can’t quite place it, and the question is lost as Yaoyorozu-san speaks up from across the table.

            “I already told you it wasn’t like that!” The lady squawks. Somehow Jirō holds her end of their conversation while she’s eating, earning various reactions from Yaoyorozu-san. Izuku turns to Mirio as quickly as he dares, swallowing the knot in his throat as if that doesn’t just put another knot in his stomach.

            Unfortunately, his senpai fixes him with a smile that’s both pitying and sympathetic. Suddenly Izuku doesn’t feel like talking at all, so he attacks his lunch with as much energy as he can. Kirishima maintains Kacchan’s ire over the course of the meal period, much the same way Jirō maintains Yaoyorozu-san’s, and the odd group manages to last the period without someone getting blown up.

           -

            Aizawa announces that they’ll be working on super moves and individual training for the next two weeks. He says nothing of Izuku giving people individual training, or the profiles that Izuku has stored in Monitor’s database, but Izuku takes the hint anyways. Instead he waits by a bus with Kurobayashi-sensei and Kacchan while the girls change into their hero outfits.

            “Hey, Kacchan, you know we aren’t going to have time for a spar after this right?”

            “Fuck off,” Kacchan snarls. Izuku shrugs, hoping that maybe the blonde is just heading out for training in the same testing ground.

            “Well, as long as you don’t get…” Izuku trails off as the girls come out of the gate.

            Oh. He COMPLETELY forgot about that.

            Izuku’s brain goes haywire as soon as he sees Yaoyorozu’s outfit. There’s nothing obscene running through his mind but he finds himself turning red and venting steam from his ears. Kacchan swats him on the shoulder and shoves him towards the bus before he can make a fool of himself, so he can’t say the blonde never did anything for him. He’s spent enough time online to know what’s going to be said about the girl when she debuts; Mount Lady’s entrance sticks out in particular for reasons (that, ironically, have nothing to do with the heroine’s choice of marketing).

            The others stare at Ground AO nervously when Izuku opens up the gate. He can’t really blame them, so he leads them to the park he enjoys for his morning workouts.

            “Okay, so…” He turns towards Yaoyorozu-san and Jirō-san hesitantly. “You two already have some experience with hand to hand combat, obviously. Do you have anything that sticks out to you personally?”

            “I’m weak.” Jirō shrugs. Her hero outfit is pretty slick, Izuku thinks. The speakers are clever, and he likes her aesthetic. Compared to most heroines she’s easy on the eyes.

            “That’s relative, but we can work with that…” Izuku blushes fiercely as he looks towards Yaoyorozu-san. “Y-Yao, C-Creati-san?”

            “I’d like to implement my quirk during combat.” She says.

            “That may be possible,” Izuku mutters. “You mean hand to hand combat, right?”

            “Of course,” Yaoyorozu-san grins. “How did you get started with hand to hand combat, Midoriya-kun?”

            “I got attacked by villains a lot.” Izuku scratches the back of his head as he thinks back to the first few months after his work out plan and his “diagnosis”. The women simply stare at him in response. He waits a bit before he sighs and starts them off with stretches.

            Yaoyorozu is trained with a few weapons, apparently. Her quirk makes disarming her almost impossible, but Izuku knows that she tends towards flashy moves and big creations. Admittedly, creating complex weaponry or multiple parts from the atoms up is insane for just about anyone, so Izuku doesn’t fault her for her choices.

            Instead, he tells her to focus on the advantages her height and her training offer her. After warming up, he talks about the distance between fighters and asks her if she’s ever used her weapons before Creation has finished making them.

            Making sharp objects come out point up is apparently a lesson she learned very young: one that makes her blush and avoid his questioning look.  

            Jirō-san has a much less flashy, overpowered quirk, but a quirk Izuku has been dying to experiment with, nonetheless. She’s much shorter and not as inclined towards physical strength compared to her partner, but Izuku couldn’t care less about any of that.

            She pales when he asks her to spar but agrees hesitantly when he says she just needs to try hitting him while he talks. Her jacks are about as sensitive as the rest of her ears, apparently. The cords are easily injured and delicate. It’s a testament to her skill and determination that she can extend and use them as she does, with as much utility as she does. Despite the numerous ideas scrapped by this discovery, Izuku dives in headfirst with other theories.

            “So,” Izuku grabs her elbow to correct her form as she tries to punch him, then shifts around to dodge as if he’d never moved in the first place. “When you project your heartbeat, does the sound travel down your jacks or just resonate at the ends?”

            “Huh?” Jirō falters, then stiffens as Izuku clicks his tongue.

            “If I’m prying…” Izuku hesitates before reaching out to correct her form again. “Wait, can I fix your stance?”

            She nods, and he takes the time to point out what happened before he moves back to where he was. He keeps a human pace this time, thinking that maybe his flashy tactics might have been the problem, and earns a curious look from the girl in return.

            “If I’m asking personal questions I’ll stop.” He finishes.

            “N-no…” Jirō’s face twists through various expressions. “Do we have to fight while we talk?”

            “Not really, but you should get used to it… You’ve been in combat, right? Villains like to talk, so you’ll have to deal with this eventually.”

            “Can’t argue with that,” She grumbles. “What does it matter about my jacks, though?”

            “Well, maybe you can’t tie people up…” Izuku shuffles away from her attacks as they talk, letting her come after him instead of fixing each mistake as they come. “But if the sound travels through your jacks you can use the cords as a weapon.”

            “You really want me to tie you up with these things? Sorry, Midoriya, you’re not my type.”

            “No… Well, yeah… b-but not like that…!” Izuku flicks her hand, ignoring her yelp and wincing as she crashes to the ground. “If your heartbeat goes through the whole jack you can probably numb someone’s wrist.”

            The girl frowns at him as she picks herself up.

            “What else ya got?”

            “How well does the sound project in open air?” He asks.

            “I’ve never tried…”

            “Mind giving it a shot?” He gives her his best smile and earns a raised eyebrow in response.

            “What about sparring?”

            “We can get back to that, I promise. Just give it a shot… oh but tell me when you start.” She looks at him funny for that one, but holds up her jacks and does her best to concentrate.

            “Okay, here goes.”

            Izuku has a very rough understanding of where he’s at as the world drags to a halt. Hours of physics research and approximation in Mei’s lab has taught him the various consequences of shatter speed, but there’s no comprehending the exact nature of these things. No amount of training he does can allow Izuku to see air molecules or raw forces of nature, so he has to rely on clues.

            First everything begins to slow; he’s been doing this long enough that he barely registers the first traces of it. People are the best clue to use for the first few levels of shatter speed, specifically eyes lips and fingers. Eventually he has to peel his eyes from the people around him to keep himself from peering at their irises and their skin, finding live action traces of humanity that any scientist would kill for a first-hand visual of.

            Sounds begin to stretch next. Beyond human reaction speeds, his mind starts chunking the data he gets from his environment. Regular things, wind and echoes and various sounds of life, become warped and drawn out. Wind becomes something akin to ocean waves on his skin. At the furthest reaches of this, he can count the seconds it takes for a lightning bolt to strike.

            Memories of the Deep-Sea King come to mind. Izuku does his best to let them wash off him, focusing on Jiro’s jacks instead of the imaginary blood staining his hands. He has to be careful pushing beyond this speed, so he peels microseconds apart with painstaking control.

            Time is something like a metaphorical ocean. As one peels the seconds apart and dives beneath the surface, the pressure begins to increase. First things begin to slow down, then sounds begin to wash out. Water isn’t the same as wind. Even small bodies of water carry enough weight to destroy a person.  

            Oceans are far more terrifying.

            At this speed, the world is a photograph in terribly high definition. Noise is almost nonexistent, save for Izuku’s natural bubble. What bothers him most is that the world begins to stretch in ways that his mind can’t quite comprehend. Something in the depths of his mind still rejects his power and tries to force the world into shape while the reality is burned into his eyes.

            If Time is an ocean, Izuku stands on the last expanse of solid land before a trench. The weight bears down not on his shoulders but on his mind: on his eyes and ears and his sanity. Nightmares play out in real time as he nears the event horizon. He can’t trust his eyes and his ears are full of cotton, so he can only watch as reality itself flickers in and out along the edges of his vision.

            But here, on the edge of something, Izuku can see Jirō’s quirk displace the air near the tips of her jacks. There’s not quite enough force to leave anything lasting, but it’s something. And Izuku will take just about anything if it means he can help this girl become stronger. She deserves it, just as much or more than her classmates do. Izuku knows that much.

            Returning to the “present” is chaotic at best, but there are a few benefits of teasing the fabric of reality. He can take his time dealing with the sudden feedback he gets doing his dive in reverse. Unfortunately, he still gets a headache.

             Maybe he shouldn’t smile when his vision is narrowing and his “headache” is probably a migraine not a headache, but he smiles, nonetheless.

            He’s still human. At least for a little while longer, he’s still human.

            “It works! Kinda small, but I’ll look into the physics behind pressure displacement and see if we can’t make this into a new move.” His voice cracks a little bit.

            Jirō’s eyes narrow immediately.  

            “How’d you even…”

            “Super speed, remember?” Izuku scratches the back of his head as she glares at him. “Anyways, you can definitely produce air pulses from your jacks, you just need to work on how much effort you put into it. Quirks are just muscles, so the more you try to do this the easier it should be. In the meantime, I’ll work with the two of you on form and we can spar.”

            Yaoyorozu looks up as he mentions the group as a whole. From this angle her costume isn’t nearly as hard to look at, but Izuku’s eyes widen as the staff produced from her palm shoots several centimeters into the air. She jumps a bit as the metal clatters to the ground, and he’s reminded that this go- this woman is not quite the Athena that he imagines her to be.

            Not yet, anyways.

            “Kurobayashi-sensei!” The man looks up as Izuku calls out to him, putting a thumb between the pages of his book without bothering to see what Izuku actually needs. Izuku grins as the teacher lumbers over to the three of them. “I know I’m supposed to be the one teaching, but do you mind giving me some help?”

            “Midoriya-kun, it would be my pleasure.” Kurobayashi-sensei pockets his book and smiles at the three of them.

            Jirō’s eyes widen as her lips peel back in violent, instinctual fear.

            Yaoyorozu smiles, shivering as she brings up her fists and nods.

            Izuku grins.

            “Hey, Monitor? We’re going to need some training dummies over in Ground AO. Green model twos, please.”

             Momo thought Midoriya’s combat tutoring would be something like All Might’s classes, or perhaps something like any of her other teachers’ methods.

            Once they’ve finished the first day, she thinks that she was wrong in the best way.

            Kurobayashi-sensei steps in frequently at Midoriya’s request. The pair move between Momo and Kyōka in such a way that they’re never unobserved, only left to work through a motion or two for themselves. Each time they’ve made a mistake once or twice, one of the tutors is there to correct it.

            The only thing that actually hurts, or stresses Momo out, is that Midoriya constantly encourages them to slow down. After being at U.A. for a year and attending some various classes on self-defense, Momo understands that the speeds Midoriya asks for are RIDICULOUS. He doesn’t ask for “training slow”, he asks for a level of slow so horrible that it hurts.

            Doing homework that night proves that Momo has exhausted portions of her arms that she rarely uses, notably her shoulders and the sides of her biceps. Kyōka mutters several things about Midoriya under her breath and Momo is quick to agree internally. Her opinion of Midoriya aside, she thinks maybe he doesn’t quite understand how other people work. Surely people like Midoriya, who’ve had this kind of strength for so long and reached such inhuman levels, don’t understand what normal people are like.

            She wonders if he has any goals in mind at all, let alone any idea of what he’s asking them to do. His questions are odd, his methods are strange, his mannerisms are confusing…

            “You’re gonna carve through the page, Yaomomo,” Tooru mutters quietly, sounding a little scared. “Midoriya is scary, huh?”

            “What?” Momo scowls a bit as she looks up from her paper, finding that she is in fact about to press her pencil through the page. She forces herself to relax and clean the page, looking at the other students around the table. Kirishima, Mineta, Kaminari and Ochako are all sitting spaced out nearby, with the rest of her class scattered about the common room. Kyōka, of course, is sitting beside her flopped over the table in an act of defiance.

            “I think she was asking how training with Midoriya went.” Kaminari smiles carefully. Momo frowns and deflates a little bit when she catches him trembling.

            “Oh, it was fine. He simply ran us through some punches and situations,” She rereads her homework, wondering what she might have done to scare Kaminari so badly. He’s only afraid of Kyōka usually, with good reason. Not even Bakugō scared the boy… before Bakugō’s evolution, of course. “Though he asked a lot of questions about our quirks.”

            “He’s better than All Might,” Kyōka groans. “Nothing got blown up.”

            “Is that really the metric we’re going for?” Tsu-chan croaks from the couch.

            “Would you rather put it at optional expulsion, Tsu?”

            “No, I was just curious how low the bar was set.”

            “Midoriya-kun did fine!” Momo huffs. “I simply expected something more than routine questions and exercises.”       

            Her classmates share looks across the table, seemingly coming to the same conclusion all at once.

            “So, he’s normal?”

            “Normal is good, right? But is he really…?”

            “That can’t be. He fought Bakugō!”

            “He does seem kind of plain.”

            “Midoriya isn’t NORMAL,” Kyōka growls, sitting up to get their attention. “Yaomomo is just pissed because he wouldn’t look her in the eye during training.”

            Momo’s cheeks heat up immediately, and the air of their conversation changes entirely as wide grins erupt across the room. Yet again they’ve all come to a single conclusion, and Momo can’ help feeling a little left out when a few of them start laughing.

            “What? I’m not upset about that at all, I just expected him to have a little more prepared…!” Her voice is lost in the white noise of the dining room table. Kyōka just rolls her eyes as she stands up and gathers her homework.

            “Whatever you say, Yaomomo. I’m gonna go shower, my shoulders are killing me.”

            Momo stares at her homework for a long time after Kyōka leaves. People move about around her, chatting and having dinner and looking at phones, but the white noise is hardly an issue after living with these people for eight months. She assures herself that Kyōka is wrong, but the more she thinks about it the more she realizes Kyōka is right.

            Midoriya had barely spoken with her at all during training.

            AND during lunch.

            He’d always been skittish, but usually during tutoring he’d at least gotten serious enough that he could follow her teaching without issue. What is she supposed to do if he won’t take this seriously? Now that they’re training, losing time to poor teaching may cost her later!

            Look at Bakugō. He’d become an Anomaly and still.

            By the time she’s finished her homework and gone to shower, she finds herself well and truly steamed over Midoriya’s foolishness.

            (Momo won’t notice that her classmates slowly begin to avoid her as the cloud around her darkens, that people begin whispering as her mechanical pencil creaks under her fastening grip or that several of her classmates are genuinely worried about approaching her now that she’s manifested this aura; instead she’ll leave the room to shower alone, and several members of 1-A will be left concerned and confused as to what they should expect from Midoriya, as well as what they should expect from the matriarch of their class from now on…)

            Izuku isn’t entirely sure what to do with Mei. She’s been asleep for a full 24 hours now, and he’s just been lugging her around like a backpack. Monitor assures Izuku that this is for the best, but he can’t help but feel worried. Like she’s running from something or preparing for something. Being kept in the dark like this leaves him far too long to think about scenarios for her awakening, and he doesn’t like what he’s coming up with.

            Eri is content to share their after-school time with Mei’s sleeping form, though she mostly ignores Mei. Melissa has assured Izuku that every project she’s checked is clear, working and on ice. There’s a decent number left, but Mei-I is apparently down there running maintenance checks and developing, much like Maya-chan.

            None of this makes him feel better, per se. Especially when Melissa says “on ice”.

            He walks out of the dorm with Mei strapped to his back on Tuesday and stops at the top of the steps, feeling a sense of animalistic fear when he spies the cloud of malice hanging over Yaoyorozu-san’s shoulders.

            “Midoriya-kun!” She smiles as if she’s drawing a knife on him, and her tone of voice makes it painfully clear that he’s already trapped before he considers fleeing. “Want to walk to class together?”

            “I… s-sure? G-g-good morning, Y-yaoyorozu-san…” He stammers, taking the steps slowly to buy himself time. Before he reaches the bottom of the steps he accelerates, running through everything possible between classes yesterday and this morning, thinking of anything he could have done that would warrant a death sentence.

            He ends up looking at his feet for most of those shredded moments. Even angry, despite the veins and red crosses covering her forehead, Yaoyorozu is distracting in all the best ways. Maybe that’s why, no matter how long he tries to stretch out that moment, he can’t figure out what he’s done wrong.

            Reality snaps into place with an air of finality, as if Yaoyorozu Momo cracked a whip and commanded it to do so… Or perhaps Izuku is simply thinking too much on his impending doom and the woman who intends to do him in.

            “S-so… How are you f-feeling?” He asks. Yaoyorozu falls into step beside him easily, still smiling, still carrying her cloud as they head to class.

            “Fine! Stretching helps, of course, but taking an entire hour for punches and standing forms still wears one out, it seems.”

            “Yeah, I guess so?” Izuku pales as more crosses pop out of the woman’s forehead.

            “But I managed to complete my homework without issue! So, there’s no trouble,” Yaoyorozu snaps, turning her eyes to the U.A. towers. “I was wondering, do the S-class have anything going on this evening?”

            “Uh… no, not that I know of…”

            “Would you like to study together? Perhaps make a party out of it, for anyone who would like to join?”

            “O-oh? Um, that would be fine, I know Kurobayashi-sensei…”

            “Perfect! Let’s meet at the 1-A dorms around seven?”

            “That late? But… Well, that’s fine, I can’t bring Eri but…”

            “I’m glad you can make it.” Yaoyorozu says. Izuku trails behind her a step, feeling utterly flattened by the way this conversation is going.

            “Y-yeah… Please go easy on me…”

            “What are you talking about, Midoriya-kun? We’re just studying.”

            “Is that really…”

            “Oh, and we can invite your friends! I haven’t met any of the Management or Gen-ed students, so perhaps they could introduce me! Forming connections is always good for aspiring students!”

            “Hold on, Yaoyorozu-san?”

            “That would be perfect.” Yaoyorozu nods to herself as they take the steps, joining a few other students from 1-A who seem to skirt around them instead of joining them on their way. “Tonight, at seven, don’t forget!”

            “No, I wouldn’t dare.” Izuku mutters. Luckily the cloud hanging over the woman’s head seems to dissipate as they reach the third floor and make their way towards 1-A. She floats down the hall ahead of him, completely unaware of the despair pouring off his shoulders.

            “Man, I don’t know what you did…” Kaminari sighs, throwing a hand over Izuku’s shoulders and dragging him the remainder of the way to class. “But I’m glad you managed to make it up to her. She nearly filled the matryoshka bin with broken pencils last night.”

            “Why me, Kaminari-kun…?”

            “Don’t ask me, man,” The boy sighs and gives Izuku’s shoulder a shake, grinning just a bit. “But, hey, nothing wrong with messing up sometimes! We’d all be dead if women couldn’t stand a little stupid hanging around.”

            “I thought I was gonna diiiiiiieeeeee…!”

            “I hear you dude. Our girls are seriously scary sometimes. Did ya hear what they did to Mineta during the Christmas party? That was brutal, lemme tell you…”

            Kābā is surprised when he finds Izuku with his head on the lunch table. Usually his friend is hungry enough to eat three meals altogether and go for snacks, forget skipping meals. Rather than skipping straight to worried, he takes a seat beside the feral Pomeranian and glances at the blonde curiously.

            “I don’t fuckin know either, the nerd was like that when I got here.” The boy says.

            Okay, now Kābā is reaching levels of “concern”. He reaches across the table and grabs Izuku’s head, lifting it off the table to find fresh tear tracks and glassy eyes staring through him before he gently returns the boy to his sorrows and lets out a deep sigh. Gradually, as if sensing a disturbance in the Force universe, Konomi, Ruby and Daisuke all reach the table and stare. Kiri-kun has already joined them on Bakugō’s other side, giving them somewhat of a buffer.

            Mei’s sleep bubble is a little too large for Kābā’s liking, but he’s got more important things to worry about. No bubble popping until he’s fixed Izuku. Even if it is taunting him a bit by growing larger when he turns back to Izuku.

            “So… anything happen this morning?” He asks nobody in particular.

            Everyone stops when a small whine pierces the air.

            “Was is Eri?” Konomi’s eyes are all purple blue and red as she reaches out and pats the back of Izuku’s head. He doesn’t say anything in response, simply lays there. “Did you get a bad grade or something?”

            “It might have something to do with Yaomomo…” Kiri-kun says weakly. Every eye turns towards him, even Bakugō (which is a bit surprising), and the red head laughs nervously as they stare. “I mean, she was pretty upset about something last night, and she left early this morning. I saw them on the way to class and she still looked pretty upset.”

            “Oh, no,” Konomi sighs, offering silent prayer before snapping her chopsticks in two and poking through her meal. “Izuku, what’d you do?”

            “Wait, training. Izuku said it went fine.” Kābā says. Another whine, slightly less miserable and a little more emphatic at the head, trails off in response, and Kābā is left with nothing to say in response.

            “Mm,” Ruby swallows and points her chopsticks at the boy. “It’s that bad, huh?”

            A softer whine, more of a groan.

            “You started off with the basics, didn’t you?” Ruby nods, leaning into her free hand. Midoriya actually groans in response, and Ruby smiles softly as she snorts. “Don’t worry about it, Bunny Rabbit. It can’t be that terrible.”

            Three distinct groans fill the air this time, with too many peaks and whines for Kābā to even try identifying all the emotions involved.

            “Don’t be so melodramatic,” Ruby takes a bite of her rice and lets out a puff of steam before replying. “It’s just a study party, she won’t kill you in front of everyone. What kind of heroine would kill you in front of your mother?”

            Izuku groans in response.

            “Well, maybe your mom does like Yaoyorozu-san, but I think that’s a little much. Eri is obviously her favorite, and no one would let Yaoyorozu murder you in front of Eri.” Ruby pauses when Izuku groans with feeling in response, then nods slowly and folds her hands. “At 1-A? Oh, then perhaps you are in trouble… Without Eri-chan you’ll have no distractions.”

            She smirks Izuku when he remains silent.

            “Just don’t let her get you alone.”

            “Uh…” Kābā has known these two for a long time now, but he’s entirely certain what he’s just seen. As he tends to do in matters of “Sokuchi Ruby”, he looks to Konomi for an answer and finds the girl patiently eating her meal instead of paying attention to the exchange. She meets his eyes over a bite of broccoli and raises an eyebrow as if she doesn’t understand his question, which she obviously does.

            “Yaoyorozu-san has demanded that Izuku meet her at the 1-A dorms for a study party tonight,” Ruby says flatly. “He seems to think she’s prepared to eat him alive. She also asked us to come as a matter of course.”

            Izuku groans into the table. Mei’s nose bubble swells to absolutely blasphemous levels, and Kābā finds himself at a loss for words.

            “I’m looking forward to it, honestly,” Ruby smiles quietly to herself. “Yaoyorozu-san and Mina-chan are such nice company, and we haven’t had a study party with the other courses yet.”

            “Wait, you guys are coming over tonight?” Kiri-kun, bless his heart, blinks as he looks back and forth around the table. “Midoriya, why didn’t you say anything?”

            “Read the fuckin’ room shitty hair.”

            “Bakugō, you’re coming too right?!”

            “Fuck off, my grades ain’t that shit!”

            “Aw, c’mon! It’ll be like old times!”

            “Like hell! I always end up tutoring your dumb asses!”

            “Exactly!”

            Kābā isn’t exactly sure how Bakugō eats that quickly without choking or making a mess. He’s eaten just enough lunches with Bakugō to know that the boy usually ends up storming off halfway through after he shovels his way through his tray and that nothing is left behind when that finally happens. But the sight of Bakugō inhaling his food outright is just normal enough to reset the gears in his head and remind him of the bubble waiting for his challenge just across the table, so he puts a pin in the whole “study party” thing and tacks on a special “what the fuck” with Ruby’s name on it for good measure.

            “Why is Midoriya coming over tonight exactly?” Kyōka groans.

            “I invited him for a study party!” Momo chirps.

            “Yes, I heard you but why?” Kyōka rolls her eyes as she sets her bookbag on the table. “We already have another training session with him tomorrow, if you didn’t want to wait go over to his dorm! Don’t drag everyone into it!”

            “I’m class representative!” Momo frowns at the accusation. “I wouldn’t be doing my job if we did this somewhere else. Why would I do it with just the two of us anyways?”

            “Because you’ve got some kind of issue with Midoriya?” Kyōka raises an eyebrow. Momo doesn’t have a response for that because, while she does have something to talk to Midoriya about, she absolutely doesn’t want to be alone in the same room as him. And lying is not heroic at all. Eventually her friend sighs and throws herself into the chair across from Momo hard enough to make the furniture groan. “Look, Yaomomo, I get that you’re not super happy about Midoriya ignoring you, but the guy up and moved here out of nowhere. And considering the stuff on his plate, you should probably cut him a little slack before you go forcing dates on him.”

            “Dates?!” Momo’s hands slam against the table as she stands up, glaring down at her friend as if the height will remove her from such a targeted assault on her character. “W-why would I invite Midoriya on a date?!”

            Kyōka raises a single eyebrow. Momo bites back just about every response that comes to mind as that eyebrow begins to wiggle in ways that are obviously practiced just for this occasion.

            “Y-you…!”

            “Relax, Yaomomo,” Kyōka rolls her eyes again. “it isn’t a date, it’s a study party. Sheesh. I didn’t think you’d get so defensive about it.”

            “I’m not…!”

            “I get it, alright? You’re not interested in him.” Kyōka shrugs. “Can’t blame you, he’s kinda meh. But we’ve got Todoroki in our class, so I can see where you’re coming from.”

            Momo’s eyes widen as the assault continues, despite her expectations. She covers her cheeks with her hands as the heat begins to sting her eyes.

            “I guess I did kinda forget that whole ‘princess in the tower’ vibe you’ve got going on, so that’s my bad. Todoroki’s a little too oblivious for that sort of play if you ask me. Right now, everyone has money on you asking him out,” Kyōka scratches her cheek as she pulls out her homework and some pencils. “But you didn’t hear that from me.”

            Something in Momo’s mind slams down so hard that her expression darkens and steels itself all at once. Kyōka eyes her when she takes her seat at the table and pulls out her notes, reading through them silently without really comprehending the information at all. Rather than deal with all the slander she drowns herself in paper and formulae and facts.

             Before much longer Midoriya’s friends show up, and the 1-A dorm begins stirring. Heroics students drift through the common room and the kitchen at various speeds, joining the group for a few moments or offering their own excuses. Momo makes small talk with the newcomers about their strengths and finds them just as frustrating as her own class: Kābā is almost entirely focused on art, Konomi can’t stand math and science, Ruby is perfectly terrible at history and the twins seems to have completely opposite strengths and weaknesses.

            Daisuke has the best grades of all of them, though he wears a “Fight!” headband much like Kirishima tends to do when studying.

            The S-class shows up in a rather interesting fashion: Bakugō and Melissa seem to have tagged along, and Midoriya is at their front with Hatsume’s contraption on his back. He stays quiet and avoids her eyes, save for their initial greeting. Somehow, they all end up stacked around the living room floor, broken into two or three study groups.

            What none of them could have predicted is that studying with Hatsume has some unintended consequences.

            “Did you know about this?” Midoriya’s whisper catches Momo’s ear as she watches the groups shift to surround the sleeping inventor. She frowns at the lack of space between Melissa and Midoriya, though she isn’t suffering from any of the negative side effects she’s been dealing with over the past few weeks.  

            “Izuku, why on earth would I know about this?”

            “Well, you’re partners…”

            “We don’t exactly work at the same speed.” Melissa giggles as the two of them stare at Hatsume’s unconscious form and the huddle gathered around her.

            Momo chews her lip as the students rattle off various physics, math and science questions, receiving correct answers in sleepy mumbles. When someone asks the first English grammar question and Hatsume gets it correct, the room dissolves into absolute chaos, and Momo’s eyebrow begins to twitch as a new sport is born. She isn’t sure what bothers her more: the fact that these students are getting the answers for free, or that Kābā, Daisuke and Mineta all seem to share the same childish NEED to poke Hatsume’s bubble.

It could also be the fact that, for WHATEVER reason, the bubble dodges their attempts and seems to mock them.

            Luckily, she isn’t alone. Normally she’d be above using her classmates so blatantly, but there’s a warm, slimy aftertaste lingering in her guts this particular evening, and she doesn’t want to address her emotions.

            She locks eyes with Bakugō from across the room and raises a single eyebrow. His only response is to click his tongue and turn back to his notebook. The longer she stares, the firmer his grip becomes, until finally he meets her eyes again and receives the same questioning eyebrow.

            Momo can hear his teeth grind from the opposite end of the common room, so she smiles and makes a show of sighing. With feeling. There’s no universe where Bakugō Katsuki would actually care that Momo might be disappointed in him, but the mere thought is enough to set the boy off.

            An angry Bakugō sets himself upon the assembled group in a fit, physically lifting some from their huddle and placing them back in their pre-ordered study groups. Some of them aren’t happy with it (Kaminari and Mina try to scurry over couches, only to be snatched out of the air by the back of their shirts), but overall, they take the hint. Momo hums contentedly, then blinks as Melissa stalks through the group and sits beside the simmering blonde. They don’t talk much, but the tension isn’t quite the same as it was when they were sitting separately.

            Gradually assignments are completed, and different study topics are rehashed. The party continues over an hour, close to an hour and a half with no signs of stopping. Momo sighs as she shuts her own books, then excuses herself to the bathroom. As she leaves, she catches Mina and Kyōka chatting with Midoriya.

            Each step weighs a little more on her shoulders on her way to the bathroom.

            She’s washing her hands when Sokuchi opens the door and leans against the edge of the sinks, eyeing Momo with her usual impassive mask.

            “Oh, did I miss something?” Momo hasn’t really talked with Sokuchi much, but she can’t help feeling as if she recognizes the girl from somewhere. Regardless, she reminds Momo of a taller, less colorful Tsuyu.

            “You’re upset with Midoriya.” The girl says. Momo frowns, then sighs and shakes her head.

            “No,” She crosses her arms. “I don’t know why everyone seems to take so much interest in our relationship… We’re classmates. Tutors.”

            “He’s worried he’s done something wrong.” Sokuchi says.

            “Nothing is wrong, Sokuchi-san. I’m sorry if I’ve worried you all or treated Midoriya badly.” She snaps, heating up a little bit when yet another person ignores what she has to say.

            “I thought you wanted to be friends with him?” Sokuchi cocks her head to one side, with just enough innocence that Momo pauses before leaving.

            “I don’t know,” Momo mutters. “I mean, I thought we were friends…”

            “But now you think you aren’t.” Sokuchi breathes. Momo isn’t sure why it makes her throat catch, so she nods. “You two are similar.”

            “How’s that?” Momo’s throat tightens around the words. She doesn’t really want to know, so it comes out bitter and a little pained. The fact that she can’t talk normally makes it hurt a little worse, driving the burn up the back of her throat and into her eyes.

            “Midoriya thinks he doesn’t know how to make friends,” Sokuchi says quietly, reaching out to lay a hand on Momo’s shoulder. “He hesitates instead of letting himself have fun.”

            “I don’t understand why you’re telling me this,” Momo mutters. “Midoriya-kun already has all the friends he needs. I’m just his tutor.”

            “Student.”

            “Right. Student,” Momo bites out. “He doesn’t need me anymore.”

            “You haven’t talked to him yet?” Sokuchi asks.

            “He’s busy,” Momo chuckles miserably. “We’re all busy.”

            “No,” Sokuchi sighs. “He’s scared. Kābā should be hitting him harder.”

            “What?”

            “Nothing,” Sokuchi pats her shoulder, then reaches up and pats Momo on the head, which only leaves her more confused. “Why do you think he’s busy?”

            “He…” Momo frowns. It takes her almost a full minute to form the words, because this all feels so trivial. Why bother with how often he looks at her, or how skittish he is around her? Why should she care if he prefers people like Kyōka? Hell, Momo prefers people like Kyōka. She’d thought Midoriya was like Kyōka, but apparently, he just doesn’t need more people in his life. “He doesn’t seem to want to talk to me. Especially during training.”

            “Wait,” Sokuchi smiles. “Heroics training?”

            “Yes? What other kind is there?” Momo mutters. She frowns as the other girl starts to shake, then breaks out in laughter until she has to lean against the wall for support. “I don’t see why that’s funny…”

            “Yaoyorozu-san,” Sokuchi doesn’t stop laughing; the words simply spill out between the mess, leaving Momo even more frustrated and more lost. “He… He wasn’t avoiding you because he doesn’t want to talk…!”

            “Then what…” Her question leaves Sokuchi in a fresh bout of laughter, and now Momo is blushing full force.

            “He couldn’t look at your hero costume!” Sokuchi doubles over as the realization hits Momo like a truck. “Midoriya can’t think straight looking at your hero costume!”

            The room was cold when Miruko first arrived. Wash and Best Jeanist and Edgeshot didn’t help the atmosphere much, but Endeavor tends to make waiting more difficult than it already is. Miruko doesn’t particularly mind Endeavor, though she could do without his flame cloak. By the time the meeting starts, she’s shifting from foot to foot as sweat beads on her forehead.

            This, unlike the previous incidents, is the first time Miruko and the other Top Ten have been called in. A call like this doesn’t go out terribly often, but these days are hardly ordinary days. ‘Deku’ seems to be the herald of a series of unfortunate events, whether he’s the cause or a symptom or whatever.

            “Thank you all for coming,” One of the suits speaks up, casually taking control of the room. A few curses are muttered as the various police chiefs take their seats at a table. No one cares enough to acknowledge the ones who mutter them. “We have a request of you all, and the details are best kept close to the chest.”

            “Get on with it.” Endeavor growls. The speaker tilts his head, though he obviously doesn’t like deferring to the Flame Hero.

            “The villains appearing throughout the region are appearing almost exclusively in the Tokyo area, and despite our best efforts they are getting stronger as we arrest them. As such, we’d like to extend a raise on any and all mutations caught by heroes who are willing to relocate to help combat this new threat.”

            Miruko frowns. It all sounds so clinical.

            The suit continues as if he isn’t wasting everyone’s time.

            “These villains are being called Mutations. We’ve captured nearly twenty, and each one has contained traces of modified DNA. Lately the amount of human genome is decreasing, and their strength is growing harder to counter. As such, we’re giving you the all clear to use lethal force against anything that might be a Mutation and raising the bounty for any Mutations caught, depending on the damage caused.”

            “Lethal force?” Edgeshot calls out curiously. Miruko rolls her eyes as the man steps up, shedding his “persona” in favor of the prissy little schoolboy he really is. “The public won’t take well to that.”

            “An announcement will be made with our findings.” The suit scratches his head, obviously bored by the question. “It took a long time to come to this decision, but we’ve determined that this is for the good of everyone involved. No method has been found that can reverse the mutations, but we are trying. Given the destruction these creatures are capable of inflicting, we’ve decided that containment and prevention are our priorities.”

            “What about Deku.” Endeavor asks. Miruko stares at the suit, glaring more harshly for each moment he hesitates.

            “This is a meeting for pro heroes, Endeavor. Deku is not…”

            “If this threat is truly as dangerous as you claim, then why are you not acknowledging every weapon in your arsenal?” Endeavor growls, stalking towards the table with every word. “Child or not, vigilante or not, the boy gets results. No one here can deny his ability, or his achievements. Why are you leaving him out of this?”

            “…There was…” The suit frowns as if he’s just bitten into something sour. Miruko glances up and down the table and finds that, for the first time, the other suits aren’t as docile as before. “…A decision made. As of yet, Deku has not been made aware of the situation.”

            “Why.” Endeavor’s flames crawl across the man’s uniform, raising the temperature even further. The suit swallows as if he isn’t cold blooded, tugging the collar of his shirt and tie as he begins to wither under Endeavor’s glare.

            “Deku is still a child. He is being regulated to a teaching position for the moment as part of an experiment,” The man says, eventually. “U.A. is isolated until we encounter another Disaster level threat. For now, we are leaving this threat in the hands of our approved heroes and offering every option available to support you.”

            Endeavor glares a bit more, then lets his flames recede and stalks towards the door. No one stops him when he leaves. Miruko is this close to following him.

            “For now, the threat is reasonably contained…” The suit starts up gain, reading off his notecards a little more obviously now. “But we’d like to ask that you all relocate soon to head off any potential ground lost in the interim.”

Chapter Text

            Part 2: Evolution

            Chpt 17: Surreal Surprises

            “Her horn is getting kinda long again, isn’t it?”

            Izuku frowns as Kurobayashi-san cuts Eri’s hair.

            “Yeah… We’ll have to discharge it soon.” He sighs, running a finger through the air just over the length of bone. Eri hates when people touch her horn, and Izuku has seen it spark up enough times to know he needs to be careful. She isn’t just upset when people touch it, she’s terrified. Bringing it up at all makes Eri’s grip on Izuku’s hands tighten, though a quick hug manages to clear her mood despite attracting Kurobayashi-san’s distress.

            “Hold still, both of you!” She snaps, leaning back in with her scissors. “It’s hard enough to get this right without you both moving around so much.”

            “Thanks again, Kurobayashi-san.” Izuku grins down at her and earns one in response.

            “No problem. Anything for this little minnow…” Kurobayashi-san clicks her tongue at their antics as she leans in to run her hands over Eri’s cheeks. With her hair pulled back into a bun, nothing can hide the impossible shade of blue in her eyes or the swirling lines rippling across her irises. Izuku already has a cloth ready to wipe away the froth left over from Kurobayashi-san’s quirk, grinning when Eri grabs her cheeks and squeals happily.

            “Alright, go get Mom,” Izuku pecks her on the forehead and gives her just enough push to send her scurrying off into the dorm’s common room. “I’m heading out to class!”

            He pauses to grab his backpack off the table, then to grab the handle on Mei’s metal cocoon. When he doesn’t have it on his back, it resembles a hammock; he’s not sure where the fabric comes from or where it goes when the thing changes shape. Once they’re out the door it shifts and bends around the handle arching over her head and eventually leaves him holding a shoulder harness, shifting the inventor around ninety degrees in the process but leaving her sound asleep.

            The shift takes about fifteen, maybe twenty seconds. Everything is accomplished by black metal bars, hidden hydraulics and tiny lights near the ends of the bars. Izuku can only see two computers on the entire structure, and they remain on either side of Mei’s bed no matter the shape. Whatever is powering the mech is as alien as the woman herself.

            Izuku stares at it for about thirty seconds after the shape has changed before he sighs and shoulders the harness.

            “You’re have to wake up eventually,” He grumbles. “And then you’re going to carry me around for a week.”

            School progresses normally. Izuku isn’t entirely sure when he became such good friends with Kaminari and Sero, but they’re okay guys. He waves at Yaoyorozu-san, but she blushes and looks away when he does, so he has to assume he’s still in the doghouse for whatever it is he did wrong.

            (He’s still not entirely sure why Ruby patted him on the head and told him ‘good luck’ before saying goodbye the night before, but he’s almost convinced the two events are related)

            Classes pass quickly. When lunch rolls around, he grabs the handle and watches Mei’s contraption warp back into the hammock-suitcase hybrid so that he can get her through the doors and the stairs, then follows the rest of his classmates. No one bothers being surprised by the new shape considering most of them are desensitized to Mei’s presence entirely. He notes that Kacchan’s bad mood softens once Melissa joins them in the cafeteria and barely manages to keep himself from smiling.

            “Midoriya, we might have a problem.”

            “What’s up, Monitor?” Izuku blinks as Monitor’s voice breaks the silence.  

            “There’s a reading from the skies over Musutafu ward. This type of alert is foreign to me, but Melissa-san, or Mother, would be more familiar with the dangers this type of threat poses.”

            “Well Mei is…”

            “Understood,” Monitor hesitates for a moment. “The danger level has escalated, somehow. Please ask Melissa-san what ‘Electric Boogaloo’ could possibly mean?”

            Izuku feels like he knows what that means, but he’s been off the online chatrooms for so long that it’s a bit fuzzy. Even before he wasn’t quite sure what the trends were, or why people made so many jokes. Regardless of the meaning hanging off the tip of his tongue, he shuffles up to Melissa and taps her on the shoulder.

            “Hey, Melissa?” He grins in the face of Kacchan’s glare and focuses on the kinder blonde of the pair. “Monitor is getting a warning he doesn’t understand. Something called ‘Electric Boogaloo’? He says it’s a warning from the airspace above Musutafu ward…”

            “‘Electric Boogaloo’?” Melissa’s face twists as she puts a finger to her chin and stares at the floor. “I don’t recognize it from the database, but there is a tiny selection of the servers only Mei has access too. She’d be the only one who knows.”

            “I swear I recognize the term, but I can’t remember quite right.” Izuku shrugs. Lunch is forgotten as the pair head over towards Mei’s slumbering form and stare, wondering how they’re supposed to wake her up.

            “Nothing the others did made any difference.” Melissa mutters.

            “And it’s not like I’ve been gentle with her…” Izuku snorts.

            “I have logged your offenses, Midoriya. Please be aware that you will not be carried by any of Mother’s…”

            “Oh, can it.” Izuku rolls his eyes as Monitor starts talking through the speakerphone on his earpiece. Melissa smiles, though she seems a bit worried as she turns back to Mei.

            “She’s been like this for days, but if we don’t figure out what Electric Boogaloo means…”

            “Electric Boogaloo?”

            Izuku and Melissa spin to find a chunk of class A staring at them incredulously. Ashido, Kirishima, Kaminari, Jirō and Yaoyorozu veer towards the pair instead of finding a table of their own. Suddenly green eyes are pointedly staring at the floor while one of the women wearing a faint neon blush, and nearly everyone pretends not to notice the changes.

            “Do you know the term, Kaminari-kun?” Melissa looks surprised. Just about everyone seems surprised, though all for different reasons. Ashido, Kaminari, Jirō and Kirishima all look at one another incredulously for a moment before Kaminari shrugs and offers her a lopsided grin.

            “Uh… yeah? It’s an old phrase…” He looks about ready to burst into laughter, glancing back and forth between Melissa and Izuku. “You guys really don’t know it?”

            “No, I’m not familiar. But Mei-chan programmed it into an alert for some reason, and we’re having some trouble.” Melissa offers sweetly. Izuku glances up as Kacchan shoulders through the group from class A, setting two trays on the table before he returns to pointedly ignoring everyone else’s existence.

            “Look, Kaminari,” Izuku shakes his head and stares at the boy. “I get that it’s probably really simple, but if Mei programmed it in as an alert, we may be looking at something catastrophic… Are you laughing?”

            “I just…!” Kaminari snorts behind a hand, blinking tears from his eyes. “I always thought Hatsume was like… crazy smart but…”

            “But?”

            “It’s a meme.” Kirishima grins bashfully as Kaminari breaks down.

            “the fate of the world…!” Kaminari reaches out and grabs Kirishima’s shoulder, shaking the redhead lightly while holding himself up. “The fate of the world depends on…!”

            “It’s something stupid that you call a sequel.” Ashido chirps. “Like when a movie gets a bad sequel or something.”

            “A bad sequel…?” Izuku frowns. “Why would Mei be programming an alert like…”

            “Mother,” Everyone in the room flinches when Monitor turns up the speakerphone on Izuku’s earpiece and projects himself. “I’m receiving a disaster alert code Electric Boogaloo. Please advise.”

            “I’M UP!” Mei’s voice slurs as her spine straightens. Her eyelids flutter a few times before she lets out another snore and falls back onto the table. Izuku groans as she reels back clutching her nose. “Ow! What? Where am I? Babies?”

            “Mei,” Melissa pinches the bridge of her nose as the rest of the cafeteria stare on in confusion. “Please pay attention…”

            “Monitor?” Mei is already up, wearing her metal cocoon as a backpack while she pulls safety glasses from her jumpsuit. “What’s the alert?”

            “Electric Boogaloo, Mother.”

            “So someone dares approach me!” Mei cackles. The lights in the room flare as Mei reaches out and pulls projections from thin air. “Wait, who’s approaching me?”

            “The alert is approaching the Musutafu cityscape. At this heading, it should impact U.A. grounds within five minutes.”

            “Why didn’t you LEAD with that?” Izuku sighs.

            “Does it really matter how quickly it impacts? You’re more than capable of interception.” Monitor’s tone sounds dry, somehow. And vaguely British.

            “Is that an accent?”

            “Have you finally grown a brain?”

            “BOYS!” Melissa’s voice cuts through the argument like a hot knife. Mei continues pulling holograms from nowhere, creating a three-dimensional map of the school and the prefecture before summoning a list of alerts. “Focus, please.”

            “He started it.”

            “I did NOT!” Izuku squawks, then flinches as a hand smacks him on the back of the head.

            “Quiet proby,” Kābā grins as he leans against Izuku’s shoulder. “What’s the occasion? Did she wake up?”

            “She programmed memes into the threat detection system apparently.” Kaminari grins on Izuku’s other side, and Kābā cackles while the rest of them slowly descend into chaos.

            “Out of the way, minions!” Mei’s holograms collapse as her goggles begin glowing with the telltale sounds of a HUD. Izuku’s eyes widen as she grabs him by the shoulders and spins him, then leaps onto his back and points towards the exit. “Your Overlord has a date with destiny!”

            “Mei, what the fuck!”

            “MIDORIYA-KUN, LANGUAGE!”

            “She’s on my SHOULDERS, Iida!”

            “Onward mighty steed!”

            “What the hell makes you think I’m your horse?!”

            “Midoriya, the object is approximately one minute from impacting the campus…”

            “What the hell?!”

           -

            Mei does not get off his shoulders. And, as if that isn’t embarrassing enough, the entire cafeteria follows them towards the landing site. It’s sickeningly nostalgic watching the meteor streak towards them. Having Mei on his shoulders either makes it worse or more ironic.

            Kacchan and Mirio flank him like some kind of honor guard, which is oddly comforting. For the first time in a while, Izuku won’t be entering battle alone. He tries not the think about the fact that it only happens after he doesn’t need the help.

            The ground shakes as a metal cylinder hits the ground and buries itself in rubble. Heroes spill from the building, drawing to a halt on Izuku’s sides as they watch the machine assemble itself.

            “Midoriya, what the hell…!?”

            “This is a test.”

            “Stand down please…” Izuku holds out a hand to either side as the machine crawls out of its crater. Unlike Sonic Spider the enemy’s upper body is far bulkier, and the design seems more humanoid. The entire thing is made of silver metal painted with purple streaks, of all things, but Izuku can’t really say it’s any worse than Mei’s aesthetic. “Mei is awake and…”

            “OH? You’re approaching me?” Mei lets out a brazen, incredibly fake chuckle as the machine stalks closer. “Instead of running away you’re coming closer?!”

            “I can’t beat the shit outta you without getting closer.” The robot shudders, venting steam from both shoulders and the back.

            “Monitor! Activate the Enemy Stand Protocol from my personal files and launch payloads Zero Two Two, Zero Five Niner… oh, oh, and don’t forget One Nine Eight Seven!” Mei shoves down on Izuku’s head and positions herself atop his shoulders with her hands on her hips, pink dreadlocks floating about her bare shoulders, as she announces her commands. “You! Newbie! State the name of my subordinate!”

            “My designation is Zero One Five Eight, and my mission is a declaration of superiority. My house is in the northeast section of Morioh, where all the villas are, and I am not married. I work as an employee for the Kame Yu department stores, and I get home every day by 8 PM at the latest. I don't smoke, but I occasionally drink. I'm in bed by 11 PM, and make sure I get eight hours of sleep, no matter what. After having a glass of warm milk and doing about twenty minutes of stretches before going to bed, I usually have no problems sleeping until morning. Just like a baby, I wake up without any fatigue or stress in the morning. I was told there were no issues at my last check-up. I'm trying to explain that I'm a person who wishes to live a very quiet life. I take care not to trouble myself with any enemies, like winning and losing, that would cause me to lose sleep at night. That is how I deal with society, and I know that is what brings me happiness. Although, if I were to fight, I wouldn't lose to anyone.”

            “Yare yare daze…” Mei shakes her head. “Next you’ll say that you’ve come to announce your master as the one true mastermind.”

            “I’ve come to announce…” The machine pauses, then clenches its fists and shakes one at Mei angrily. “Do not steal my line, you fluffy little bitch!”

            “What the fuck did you just say about my hair?!” Mei’s screech is drowned out by the sound of alarms blaring across campus. Plumes of fire arc over the school building before touching down, transforming into black androids that stand nearly ten feet tall.

Compared to the streamlined bodybuilder bot that’s come knocking, Mei’s designs are all inhuman and angular with LEDs and specific builds. One stands taller than the others with thin limbs and multiple arms, including a pair of turrets. Another is squat, with missile banks protruding from the shoulders, and the last is vaguely human with exposed metal beams extending between the joints.

            “You called for us, Mother?” The tall one asks politely, never quite wavering from the enemy. “This shoddy workmanship has none of your love. Shall we dispose of it?”

            “Yes please!” Mei lets out another boastful laugh, then points at the intruder. Izuku’s shoulders slump under her boots, so she moves one to the top of his head and strokes her chin as her machines begin to hiss and glower at the enemy. “I’ve been preparing for this day since I made my first baby! Now you’ll see the true power of my genius!”

            “You stand no chance against Progenitus, the crown jewel of my master’s army.” The silver mech announces.

            “Why do all the gearheads have robot armies?” Izuku groans. The sound is lost on the entranced masses and the play-acting woman perched atop his head, so he crosses his arms and stares as the tallest of Mei’s arsenal steps out to meet Progenitus (little does he know that Mei does the same thing atop her perch, somehow keeping perfect time to add her own dramatic flair to the action).

            “ORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORAORA!”

            “DORARARARARARARARARARARARA!” Progenitus is a silver blur as it dismantles Mei’s machine. Despite a noble effort, the turrets on either side do absolutely nothing to the enemy mech’s hide. Arms and legs fly to either side before the black mech falls to the ground in a sparking heap.

            “Truly an admirable performance, but only the beginning of your trial!” The short mech blitzes around Progenitus and appears near its shoulder just in time for Progenitus to slam a fist into its head. Izuku winces as it shatters and leaves a deep hole in the campus grounds.

            “Hey, guys, can we not…?”

            “You dare defile Mother’s grace? Heathen,” The final mech steps forward and leers up at Progenitus with eyes that glow like miniature suns. “That will be your final sin. Beg for mercy or pray. These last few seconds of transmission are the only grace you’ll receive from me.”

            “I see.” Progenitus clenches its fingers, venting steam from its chest as it looks down on Mei’s creation. “Perhaps this is only a test, but I have claimed that I would not lose to anyone. For the sake of my master’s honor…”

            Izuku sighs as Progenitus disappears. A small explosion sounds from their right, and the crowd can only gape when they find the new hole left in the wall of U.A.’s campus.

            “Midoriya-kun, I thought Hatsume was asleep.” Nezu chirps. Izuku sighs, glancing up at the principal’s perch on All Might’s shoulder, and shrugs.

            “Does she look like she’s asleep?”

            “No. That seems to be the problem.”

            “At least she isn’t standing on your head, Principal-san.”

            “And you’re letting this happen because…?”

            “I didn’t really expect any of this, but I figure anything thinning out Mei’s ranks is probably a good thing for us?”

            “You’ll let my school be destroyed in the process?”

            “What am I, a failsafe? Let the robots settle things, I’ll clean it up if anyone is actually in danger.” Izuku sighs. “This is the first time you’ve seen her designs in action, Principal-san.”

            He won’t tell anyone he’s curious about how far she’s come from Sonic Spider, AKA Seventeen, but no one seems to be asking. Most of them won’t remember, considering how many chapters ago that was (for those of you watching, it’s Chapter Seven; no this wasn’t planned).

            Progenitus shoves its way out of the rubble and brushes some dust from the orbs protruding from its shoulders, then reappears before Mei’s design.

            “That was a good hit. Cheap, but solid. Well done.”

            “Your praise is meaningless. The time for begging has passed.” The black machine growls. Izuku frowns as the machines begin accelerating, reaching speeds well beyond the human perception rate before they start to fall off. Blows collide, machines slam into the ground and into the wreckage of their freshly murdered brothers. For a while, the black mech seems to be winning.

            “Oi…”

            “Yeah, Kacchan, I see it.” Izuku frowns.

            “What’s up, greenhorns?”

            “Look for yourself, Sparky.” Kacchan growls.

            “What is it, Bakugō-kun?”

            “Leave it, All Might, I’m busy.”

            “Be nice Kacchan…”

            “Bite me.”

            The fight comes to a brutal end as Progenitus tears Mei’s last fighter in half. A yelp sounds from the crowd as they come to grips with the brutal finisher, and the raw dishonor that comes from Progenitus kicking the broken mechs into a pile and stomping them into pieces.

            “Now. Recognize my might, and swear fealty…”

            “Alright, that’s enough of that.” Izuku sighs. Mei whines as he reaches up and plucks her from her perch, setting her down and trudging out to meet the robot.

            “A mortal? Are you the representative for this sector?”

            “Uh, yeah, something like that?” Izuku scratches his head. “Look, Progenitus, as you can see, we already have a crazy inventor and a surplus of androids. There’s not really enough space for any more of… you. Plus the whole ‘fealty’ thing is overrated. This isn’t the middle ages, we’re in a progressive period. No overlords.”

            “Unfortunately for you, the might of my master’s army…”

            “Yeah, no.”

            “Unfortunately…”

            “No overlords.”

            “Unfortunately…”

            “Seriously? You have limited scripts?” Izuku rolls his eyes at the machine. “You’re not even close if that’s what you’re bringing to the table. Go on, get home before you run out of batteries. Shoo.”

            “…You don’t seem to understand your situation, mortal.”

            “I understand the situation perfectly fine.”

            “Midoriya, I have a request from Mother’s personal server.” Monitor blurts. Izuku rolls his eyes and half turns from his conversation with Progenitus.

            “Monitor, I’m kind of in the middle of something.” He hisses.

            “Are you not paying attention? I could wipe you from the face of the earth, mortal. This is not the time to lose focus. Bow, before I become irritated.”

            “One second,” Izuku holds up a hand to Progenitus as he turns back to Mei, who’s flashing him a pair of thumbs. “…damn it. Monitor, what’s the request?”

            “Mortal, I refuse to be…”

            “Repeat after me: ‘I, Midorino Izuvanna, have a dream…’” Izuku slaps himself in the face briefly before he takes a deep breath and looks up at the machine.

            “…I, Midorino Izuvanna, have a dream…”

            “Oho?” Progenitus’ head twitches, yanking to one side as if he’s resisting the motion in his limbs. Every motion looks jerky and throws sparks from the joints. Izuku winces as something drives Progenitus backward and forces it to cross its arms. “You’re approaching me? You’re not running away?”

            Izuku barely has time to open his mouth before Kacchan appears at Progenitus’ hip, unleashing a massive blast from his prosthetic. Progenitus jerks out of the way almost entirely, but one arm is sacrificed to the plume of stardust. Balance, or maybe just shoddy reaction speed. Whatever the cause, the mech rights itself and glares down at the molten stump left where its right arm should be, then swerves to face Kacchan.

            “Another mortal combatant… What foolishness.”

            “In case your shit programming didn’t figure it out already, you’re out of your league Sparkplug.” Kacchan growls. “Fuck off before you annoy me.”

            “There is no mortal save for All Might who is capable of engaging me in combat. The mythical vigilante Deku, perhaps, but he is nothing more than propaganda created by the government in order to frighten my master into…”

            “Hey, Progenitus, right?” Izuku waves at the machine and frowns. “Yeah, I’m Deku. Who says I’m propaganda?”

            “My master is no fool,” Progenitus straightens, returning its hand to its hip. “Only All Might is capable of defeating my master’s creations, the likes of which have never been seen before. Quirks are incapable of being passed down, which means no one will ever have that power again…”

            “Wrong again, unfortunately,” Izuku actually grins a little bit. “On every account. Look, just go home. Yes, you’re very large and fast and shiny. It’s very impressive. But we were just about to eat lunch, and you’re kind of tearing up the school.”

            “Unfortunately for you, the might of my master’s army…”

            “For crying out loud…” Izuku groans as Kacchan fires up his arm again. This time, instead of getting caught by surprise, Progenitus grabs the boy by his prosthetic and swings. At the same time, Izuku falls into shatter-speed and rips the arm from Progenitus’ chest, then hops into the air and turns the machine into a pile of scrap with all the grace of a man flattening a soda can.

            Kacchan hits the ground and growls as he tears the robotic hand from his arm, then moves to grab the front of Izuku’s shirt.

            “The fuck was that, Deku?”

            “I fixed it.” Izuku shrugs. “No point in breaking your arm every time you fight someone.”

            “You think that piece of scrap could have…”

            “No one knows now,” Izuku swats Kacchan’s arm and turns, heading back towards the crowd. “Mei, we need to talk cleanup!”

           -

            Cleanup is both less and more extensive than Izuku hopes. The actual cleanup is being handled by drones and by Power Loader, who’s a little bit concerned about the aerial security of their school. Meanwhile, the debriefing drags Izuku, Kacchan, Mei and Melissa into Nezu’s office.

            “So, Hatsume, do you want to explain what just happened?” Nezu asks patiently. Izuku sighs a bit as the girl throws a mock salute and grins.

            “Sir! I programmed an early warning measure for anyone who dares attempt to recreate my babies! By scanning for similar quantum communications globally I was able to pick up the trail that the enemy left before impact.” Mei chirps. “He only managed to cull my first generation of offensive drones, so there’s about four more stages that are prepped and ready to defend the school in case of a real attack.”

            “And how did you know this wasn’t an attack?” Nezu’s eyes close briefly, giving away the oddly high stress levels left over from the fight.

            “It was only one drone!” Mei shrugs as if that says it all, so Izuku elbows her and points at the principal to demand at least a little more. “The code for any robot that approaches the level of my babies is extremely dense, especially when they’re constantly updating across a quantum communication network. Once the code detected an approaching android, we hacked into the network and checked the data. Everything pointed at an exploratory approach, so the code didn’t alert the schoolwide defense grid.”

            “…We have a schoolwide defense grid?” Nezu blinks, looking at Melissa for confirmation.

            “Of course!” Mei chirps. “I’ve designed the lab to be mobile, and the campus has several defensive protocols. Nothing short of a dimensional infiltration asset can assault this school!”

            “Wait, you can cut through dimensions?” Izuku isn’t entirely sure he wants to know the answer, but the words are already out. Mei’s grin says everything, so he waves her off instead of waiting for the science. “Never mind. As long as the school is safe, I don’t want to know.”

            “Awww!”

            “Hatsume, could you please have Monitor share the details of your defensive structures with the staff?” Nezu sighs. “Best not to trip anything accidentally.”

            “Sure thing, boss man!”

            “Now, about the android that attacked us.”

            “It wasn’t anything to worry about, principal.” Mei yawns and stretches, popping a few joints while rolling her neck both ways. “Our communications network is way stronger, and the Vault will automatically deploy interference if an actual attack comes our way! Besides, the enemy wasn’t actually clocking any faster than picosecond computer speeds. Monitor Mk Seven was reaching femtoseconds on hybrid neural wires before the new year!”

            “I see. Well, as thrilling as that information is, don’t take an enemy lightly, Hatsume-chan,” Nezu stares the girl down steadily, ignoring the way she bounces back and forth under his eyes. “Your level may be hard to reach, but failure and example tend to go hand in hand when two people butt heads. If they’ve reached this far alone, I imagine they’ll only improve faster now that they’ve been defeated.”

            Izuku stays quiet as they talk. Kacchan does too, but in more of a surly-because-I-didn’t-get-to-break-anything way. Melissa sighs every time Mei brushes the principal off, and she constantly taps away at her data pad.

            They’re a complete mess, but at least Mei is awake now. Hopefully they won’t have any other close calls.

            After the near-miss disaster they had during lunch, Momo half expects Midoriya to cancel training. When he doesn’t, she makes a point of picking her gym uniform instead of her hero outfit. She absolutely doesn’t blush as she zips it up, and she ignores Kyōka’s questions about her choice.

            Midoriya smiles at them both wearily, then launches into training with a vengeance.

            It’s noticeably different this time. Momo is still working on the concepts that he’s given her, but now she catches him looking. She frowns, wondering if maybe she catches him because he wants her to catch him; he can move at hypersonic speeds on a whim, and it seems to extend beyond just speed.

            He doesn’t seem cunning enough. The Midoriya she knows is fairly innocent when it comes to people. She’s just glad that he’s actually giving her tips and helping her with her form instead of focusing on Kyōka this time. Popping items out of her body over and over like that just makes her feel… used.

            She keeps thinking back to the study party. Her plan had been to talk with him, but in the end, she’d been so mad that she’d spent the entire time avoiding him. Everyone seems to think they’ve already worked this out.

            Everyone save for Midoriya, of course.

            It’s all so stupid, isn’t it? She frowns, returning to the stance Midoriya insists on, and throws out a short burst of jabs against the targets. A fist slams into her training dummy just hard enough to leave it wobbling. Why do we have to talk? Why should I care that we’re friends or not?

            Momo takes a deep breath, relaxing her stance a bit. She blinks, then stares at the scrap of fabric that absolutely wasn’t hanging from the dummy’s shoulder a moment ago. The small towel is pillow-soft in her fingers and freshly warm.

            All it takes is a glance to confirm that Kyōka has one too, but Midoriya is grinning shyly as he looks away from her. For some reason it leaves her feeling shaken up. Suddenly the answer to her questions is plain as day.

            How long has it been since she found herself feeling miserable? Was it one of their tutoring sessions, or even as early as their very first meeting? She found friends at U.A., sure, but there’s something profound about the way Midoriya looks at people. Maybe it’s as simple as keeping busy; Midoriya is to blame for that as well. There’s no getting around it in the end.

            Like it or not, something about Midoriya keeps her feeling light.

            Kyōka eyes her as they head back to the 1-A dorms, then smirks.

            “Feeling better?”

            “I suppose,” Momo murmurs. “Training was rather productive today.”

            “Yeah, I know. Midoriya couldn’t keep his eyes off you,” Kyōka snickers. Momo has barely opened her mouth to fight back when the other girl raises her hands defensively. “Yeah, yeah! I know. I just think it’s funny, you know. Let him down easy if you’re not going to take him seriously though. He’s more trouble than he seems if you ask me.”

            “I don’t think anyone can argue that.” Momo chuckles weakly.

            “Seriously, robots attacking the school? What’s next, monsters?” Kyōka groans. “Why can’t we catch a break?!”

            “Honestly,” Momo smiles just a bit as she pats Kyōka on the shoulder. “I think Midoriya is our break.”

            “Does it really count if he’s the one attracting trouble?”

            “Hatsume was living under the school all along, so maybe he isn’t the trouble magnet.”

            “Don’t go defending him, Yaomomo! Let a girl vent, would you?”

            Shōto does his best to avoid Midoriya. At best the green haired youth is an outlier, at worst he’s the harbinger of an era where Shōto, for all his power, is essentially useless. But there are times when Shōto doesn’t get to avoid Midoriya, or his influence, and today seems to be one of those days.

            “You’re telling me that Hatsume… and that enemy robot…” Shōto groans and digs his fingers into his eyes. “…were quoting this pre-emergence era manga?”

            Uraraka has stars in her eyes. Kaminari is wheezing, almost dead from laughter hours after the event. Ashido… Ashido keeps saying things. Shōto doesn’t know what to do with any of the things she says or any of these people in general. But the quotes definitely aren’t helping.

            He doesn’t want to ask. It’s not productive, he should be studying or training or relaxing. But even if he doesn’t know Hatsume well, Shōto knows he should probably be paying attention. There was a moment in that fight where Midoriya was able to take the upper hand by quoting the material, so…

            “Why?” He asks.

            The room goes silent and several pairs of eyes snap to him all at once. He feels very much like he’s just stepped on a landmine, and his knee-jerk reaction to this is to sit completely still. Upsetting Endeavor usually meant there was a tiny window where he could react, if this was the same…

            “SUNNAVA BEETCH!” Ashido cackles as she screams it, startling just about everyone who isn’t a part of this… whatever it is.

            “Todoroki-kun, it’s a way of life!” Uraraka still has stars in her eyes, despite looking at least a little bit serious. Shōto shifts back as she moves closer, overtaking him and grabbing his shoulder as if to shake him. “My papa was really into the pre-emergence fictions, Jojo is sooo good!”

            “That’s debatable…” Sero sighs, tossing a peanut into his mouth and crunching away. “It’s fine, if you don’t mind people drinking piss out of a teapot.”

            “LIES!” Uraraka reels and points at him, freeing Shōto from his prison.

            “I mean…”

            “Who’s doing WHAT to a teapot?”

            Ah, there’s Yaoyorozu back from training. Shōto shrugs, catching the horror in her expression. Jirō grins as she flips herself over onto the couch.

            “You guys talking about the Jojo fight earlier?”

            “Who ISN’T?!” Kaminari groans, curling in on his stomach. “Damn… I think I added a new pair of abs just laughing…!”

            “It wasn’t bad.” Jirō rolls her eyes. Sero seems pleased that he’s not on the radar anymore, and Shōto can’t help but shar the sentiment. Whatever these people were reading, it isn’t something he’s interested in anymore.

            “How was training?” He asks. They all shift awkwardly at the question, though Jirō only lifts an eyebrow.

            “Fine. Midoriya knows what he’s talking about when it comes to quirks and combat, but he’s a bit whacky.” She shrugs.

            “You think Sensei will send everyone to him eventually?” Ashido grins as she takes her place on the couches once more. “I’ll bet he’d have some great ideas for my break dancing!”

            “Nah, he’s just about the biggest nerd ever.” Jirō smiles despite the complaint.

            “Supersonic break dancing, Jirō! Think of the possibilities!”

            “Does it really matter if no one can see you dancing?”

            From there, it devolves into one of the classes usual conversations. Shōto is about to get up and head to his room when Uraraka hits the couch beside him and grins sheepishly.

            “Sorry if I came on a lil’ strong earlier, Todoroki-kun,” She ruffles the back of her hair, leaving it messy as she tucks her hands under her legs. “I know most people don’t like manga, but my papa and I have the same taste in things… Guess I got caught up in the joke for a bit.”

            “It’s no problem.” He coughs, turning his eyes to the carpet. The two of them have been chatting more since she first approached him a few weeks ago, but usually not here. Not with this air of unwound twilight filling the room, not while Uraraka is dressed in shorts and a tank top looking completely disheveled and… natural. Maybe that’s the word for this.

            Shōto isn’t used to this. He’s doesn’t know if he’ll ever be used to anything but distance and chilly assurances. Meanwhile the world outside is going to hell and robots are quoting outdated fiction.

            Hopefully he’s not the only one who’s out of his depth.

            Izuku isn’t sure he’ll ever get used to sharing an elevator with Kacchan. The blonde still won’t talk to him outright if Izuku talks first, so they just. Stand there. Waiting.

            Elevators take a lot longer when you’re forced to be quiet.  

            The pair of them reach the lab and Izuku waits for Kacchan to take the lead before he follows quietly. A new bubble of holograms fill the air over Monitor’s chassis, either a clear indication of Mei’s work or a project from Mei-I’s end. He doesn’t like to think about the fact that there’s a robotic copy of Mei living underneath the school, so he doesn’t.

            “Yo, Doc,” Kacchan’s backpack hits Melissa’s desk in a practiced slide. Izuku grins when the other boy takes a moment to rub Maya-chan’s hair before he makes a beeline towards Melissa’s desk.

            Izuku, on the other hand, heads over to where Mei-I, and hopefully Mei, are suspended.

            “Hey, Mei? You busy?”

            “Nope! What’s up, bro?” Mei’s voice comes through the holograms moments before she descends personally, letting the images fade as the chair lowers to ground level.

            “I was just wondering about the whole…” Izuku waves his hands, then eventually drops them and forgets being delicate while he’s busy forgetting Mei-I. “…coma thing.”

            “Coma?” Mei looks confused for a moment before she snaps her fingers. “Oh! That was just sleep!”

            “Uh… That was a coma.”

            “I always do that. Though,” Mei’s crosshairs flicker as she ponders something. “I suppose it didn’t take so long for me to need sleep back before I made all my babies. It’s probably part of my mutation.”

            “Mutation?”

            “The scans from the Re:Anima engineering project say that…” Mei trails off as a gruff voice rises on their left.

            “Why NOT?”  

            “There are no more upgrades, Katsuki. And even if we wanted to plan one, we can’t just whip it up without knowing what you want!” Melissa sighs. Izuku frowns as the pair stare one another down, looking a lot more upset than he’d ever seen them before (at least in Melissa’s case; there’s only so much difference in Kacchan’s expressions). “Besides, you haven’t been in combat! How am I supposed to know what works on the model you already have?”

            “Fine, give me some bots to wreck and I’ll give you the data you need.” Kacchan growls. Melissa groans into her hands in response. “What?”

            “I’m not talking about SIMULATED COMBAT, Katsuki.”

            “What, you and deadlocks over there are already tapped out?” Kacchan snorts. “I thought people like us were supposed to keep growing. What’s the point if we cap out here?”

            “MEI might have some ideas,” Melissa frowns up at Katsuki heavily. “But I’m not completely insane, and you’re already carrying a weapon capable of tearing small islands out of the pacific. Besides, Maya is my primary project right now.”

            Kacchan huffs, then throws a glance over his shoulder. Maya-chan doesn’t bother looking up from her holograms, which is either very worrying for Izuku or just… an android thing. But Izuku has been working with her occasionally, so he wonders if maybe this type of fight isn’t …

            “Besides, Katsuki,” Melissa mutters quietly. “I’m not an Anomaly. I can’t help.”

            “The fuck does that mean?!” Kacchan claws at his hair as if he’s ready to tear it out at the roots. “So what, you’re just some quack with an intelligence quirk? The hell…”

            “I’m quirkless, actually.” Melissa growls.

            Izuku very quietly makes a note that these fights may be typical, but this one is probably not quite like the rest. Kacchan’s eyes widen at the admittance, and of all the places in the world he looks directly at Izuku.

            “Why are you looking at Izuku?” Melissa’s voice drags Kacchan’s eyes back to hers.

            “We have a history?” Izuku shrugs and scratches the back of his head. Melissa doesn’t know what to say about that, and Kacchan… well, Izuku has never really expected Kacchan to say anything about their relationship. Or, rather, their history. Best not to call it a relationship.

            “Childhood friends, right?” Melissa looks at Kacchan questioningly. Izuku chuckles weakly. “Why aren’t you saying anything, Katsuki?”

            Kacchan grinds his teeth audibly. Melissa’s frown turns from sad to worried, but he’s already storming past her to grab his backpack and head for the catwalk. Izuku sighs and closes his eyes, having already accepted this on some level.

            “Katsuki!”

            Izuku flinches when Melissa’s shout cuts the air.

            “Fuck off, Doc.”

            “You don’t just get to storm off after that!” Melissa cries.

            “So, what, you think you get to come chasing after me? Huh?!” Kacchan shouts back.

            “Just answer the question!”

            “You already know the answer, don’t ya?” Kacchan’s voice breaks on that one. Izuku sighs as the footsteps pick up again, then the elevator chimes.

            “I don’t get him at all sometimes.” Melissa sniffles, then throws herself into her chair. Izuku opens one eye and peers at the woman’s back. He doesn’t know what to say… and he isn’t even sure if he has anything to say on the matter. The way things are going, he and Kacchan aren’t friends; what right does Izuku have to comment on their love life?

            When has he ever cared if he had the right to do anything?

            “Kacchan is…” Izuku pauses, then digs through his hair and hums to himself. “He’s a man of few words.”

            “That’s just dumb.” Melissa says.

            “Yeah, probably,” Izuku chuckles, then takes slow steps over to her chair. Melissa is his friend, even if she’s way beyond him in terms of just about everything. He’s never been able to turn away from someone in tears. “He won’t stay away from you though.”

            “I’m his mechanic,” Melissa chuckles dryly, sounding strained. “He doesn’t get a choice.”

            “Actually, you’re the closest thing to a friend he’s ever had,” Izuku smiles sadly, meeting Melissa’s eyes. The question is there, but THAT is something Katsuki has to answer himself. “And you’re probably the smartest.”

            “Who cares?” Melissa frowns, staring at her hands. “I have no idea what’s going through his head.”

            Izuku makes a little noise and nods, earning a watery chuckle from the girl.

            “Kacchan’s always been the smartest person in the room, you know?” Izuku mutters. “Well, the smartest person or the hardest worker. But he’s been alone for his entire life, I think.”

            “I’m not surprised after seeing the way he acts with you.” Melissa sighs.

            “He’s nice to you though,” Izuku taps the chair to catch her gaze and offers up a smile. “If you ask me… I think he’s really trying. He’ll be back.”

            “I’ll make sure to give him hell if he does.” Melissa smiles weakly. “And if he tries to break something, I’ll send him after you.”

            “That’s… You know what,” Izuku sighs playfully, throwing his hands in the air as he wanders back towards Mei’s chair. “You’re the only one who gets to do that, got it?”

            He finds Mei looking pensive, but he’s already forgotten what she was saying before they were interrupted. Instead of pursuing it, he sighs and gives Mei a smile.

            “Don’t forget you have a dorm room, okay? I don’t need to carry you everywhere next time.”

            “But that was so much more fun!”

            “Next time I’m dumping you in your dorm.”

            Toshinori has always, on some level, known this was coming.

            He knew that All for One might not be his destiny, that he could share the fate of those who came before him. From the day his master chose him to bear One for All, Toshinori only had two constants: his drive to become the Symbol he’d dreamt of, and the knowledge that one day he would have to pick his successor.

            When he first felt One for All begin to bleed from his muscles, he’d accepted it with some frustration. It was silly to think that he was taking the easy way out. Going out in a blaze of glory would only leave a scar… and a man with a legacy of All Might’s size would leave a scar even larger, if only as devastating, as the one his master left. Mirio would make a fantastic successor. Toshinori couldn’t hope for a better successor, but he was frustrated.

            Everyone told him teaching would be hard. He hadn’t really taken them seriously.

            But we’re getting off track, aren’t we?

            Toshinori isn’t. He’s jogging right about now. Taking the long route in his barebones form, dragging most of a U.A. tracksuit as he fights the inevitable loss of power that has finally come to call.

            He’s come most of the way around the campus when a tree- a whole tree, roots and all mind you- sails across the track ahead of him. A string of curses and dirt follows the tree, knocking Toshinori from his stupor. Before he can go looking, Bakugo stalks across the trail after the tree.

            The blondes make eye contact. Just as Toshinori is preparing himself to introduce his alter ego, Bakugō clicks his tongue and turns away.

            “The fuck you lookin’ at, All Might?”

            “Ah…” Toshinori rubs the back of his neck and chuckles. “You always were more perceptive than the others gave you credit for.”

            “Bullshit,” Bakugō growls. Toshinori blinks as something in the boy’s prosthetic rattles briefly, falling silent when a fist slams into the frame. “I’m just as blind as the extras in the end.”

            Toshinori frowns. Bakugō has never been one for talking, nor has he ever been one to explain anything. It’s a quality that Toshinori can relate to, one that he had to cultivate during his reign as All Might.

            “Just look at you,” Bakugō’s voice grows quiet instead of loud, which is almost more worrisome. “How did I miss the decline of the greatest hero? What kind of idiot didn’t notice the absences, the change, the lies?”

            “Not many did.” Toshinori mutters.

            “That’s no excuse.” Bakugō snaps. Toshinori sighs and scratches his head. He wonders what Aizawa would say, or what Nezu or Nana might say. One of them would know how to handle the boy better.

            One broken child is enough for Toshinori’s lifetime.

            “I worked very hard to make sure that decline was felt as little as possible,” Toshinori says. “If a schoolboy could have figured it out, I wouldn’t have been doing my job.”

            Bakugō remains quiet for a moment, though Toshinori thinks perhaps he’s still beating himself up. He wonders how long Bakugō has been putting such impossible standards on himself. Wonders if perhaps that’s the source of the boy’s issues… and decides that isn’t quite right. Something in his gut tells him that Bakugō is frustrated about something else.

            “What was your quirk?” Bakugō mutters. If Toshinori hesitates, it isn’t because he’s speaking to the boy but because he’s never actually told anyone. Gran Torino, maybe… Decades ago, maybe. The words stick in his throat like blood, but this blood doesn’t taste like his own.

            “I was quirkless.” Toshinori coughs, then hums to soothe his throat. Bakugō trembles and stiffens, then grinds his teeth.

            “Of course… of fucking course…” Bakugō growls.

            Toshinori winces at the hoarseness of the boy’s voice. It’s the closest thing to sob that he’s ever heard from the boy.

            “You’re the doc’s guardian, right Bones?”

            “Agh, y-yes…?” Toshinori actually does cough up some blood this time. No one refers to him like that, though if anyone would… “You mean Melissa?”

            “What’s that about?” Bakugō’s hair hangs over his eyes like a shroud. Toshinori hasn’t heard much from Melissa these days thanks to the S-class business, but he’s heard enough. Whenever the girl brings up Bakugō’s maintenance there’s… something. Frustration, yes, but more than that too. It stirs up a reflex Toshinori never imagined he would have.

            “She’s the daughter of my best friend.” Toshinori says it a little more solidly than he means to. Bakugō glares at him with one eye, then clicks his tongue again.

            “Not your kid then?”

            “Unfortunately. I’ve never had the chance. Nor the opportunity…” Toshinori sighs. “My mind was on other things. But quirkless people aren’t as uncommon as you seem to believe, if that’s what you thought.”

            “Don’t play dumb.” Bakugō snarls. Toshinori shrugs. Apparently they’ve both seen the commentary about All Might’s guardianship… which begs several questions about Bakugō’s true nature.

            “Whatever anyone has told you, young Bakugō…”

            “Don’t.” Bakugō snaps. He turns to face Toshinori for the first time and reveals the damp gleam hanging onto his eyes instead of their usual feral tint. “Don’t you DARE tell me that quirks don’t mean shit! YOU of all people don’t get to tell me that!”

            Toshinori thinks about that.

            On one hand, he’s probably the only person in the world who knows both sides of this story. He’s been left in the dust and picked up, then worked his way to the top with blood sweat and tears. Who else, save for a certain green-haired youth…?

            But there’s the problem.

            If Toshinori is the only person who’s seen both sides of the problem, then he has to acknowledge that All Might only stands at the top after being given a quirk. He isn’t a hypocrite for saying that a person is more than their quirk. That simply doesn’t acknowledge the whole truth, nor does it acknowledge either side.

            Even if Toshinori says that a person is more than their quirk, he isn’t saying that a quirkless person ISN’T lesser for NOT having a quirk.

             “I turned Midoriya down once,” He says. The words come from somewhere deep in the back of his mind, from beneath a pile of grief, self-pity, unrequited apologies. But they come easily and saying them aloud drains something from his chest in both a physical and emotional sense. “I met Midoriya before the mud-man attacked you, and I told him that a quirkless person couldn’t be a hero. Once upon a time, I thought that was hypocritical. I still do. But you’re right… I can’t say that a person is more than their quirk.”

            Bakugō softens somewhat. It’s small, but it pulls at Toshinori’s chest as if pulling at stitches.

            “Quirks are powerful, almost defining features… but they are only features. Melissa has always baffled me with how smart she is, just as her father did, and I’ve met hundreds of quirkless people who are more talented than a hundred heroes. Several of them were more talented than me, but they spoke as if I were something greater… As if I did not make myself greater. Some of them knew, like you, that I worked incredibly hard to get where I am. None of them knew the truth… and I may have even forgotten it for a time, honestly,” Toshinori chuckles awkwardly. “The top is blinding in a way. You’re dragged through so much so quickly that it becomes a lifestyle. Stopping to consider the moral implications of one’s birth is sometimes difficult, or at least something best saved for time spent in a hospital bed.”

            “…Does that mean you’re excused from it?” Bakugō mutters under his breath. Toshinori sighs and looks at his hands, at the scars crisscrossing the otherwise soft palms and bony fingers.

            “No. The only excuse we have for forgetting is in forgiveness, or in death.”

            “Forgiveness…” Bakugō chuckles distantly. “Who the fuck said I was asking for forgiveness?”

            “I’m not a teacher, young Bakugō. I won’t claim to know.” Toshinori shrugs. Bakugō grinds his teeth louder in response.

            “Then there’s nothing to be said, is there?”

            “I suppose not.” Toshinori’s shoulders slump. He can tell there’s still so much to be said. As much as he wants to tell the boy about time, he remembers his youth. Maybe he doesn’t remember it fondly or even remember it well, but he remembers. Bakugō will do this his way, just as Toshinori did.

            He can’t help but wonder if Melissa will be dragged into this, and he worries for both of them. Melissa more than Bakugō, but for both all the same.

            “Oi, Bones!” All Might’s head snaps up as Bakugō calls out to him. A single bloodshot eye glares over the boy’s shoulder as a fresh breeze comes down the path, carrying the scent of smoke and warm metal. “I’m gonna be the greatest hero, you hear me? And when I’m done, you’re gonna tell everyone the truth.”

            Toshinori feels One for All singe his veins as he looks at Bakugō’s back, as if reacting to the boy’s challenge. So much hinges on that declaration: his legacy, for better and worse, the truth of his crusade, the identity of his successor… But it pales in the face of what Bakugō is claiming to become.

            What is he to say if Bakugō becomes the naturally born symbol of peace?

            “I wonder about that,” He grins wryly, acknowledging the challenge as much as he is turning up his nose at it. “With friends like Hatsume and Midoriya, not to mention my successor. Can you bear the weight, young Bakugō?”

            “Who ever said we were friends?” Bakugō waves a metal hand, then grabs the roots of the tree lying across the jogging trail. “They’re pebbles on the road to being number one, that’s all.”

            “That’s bold talk for a boy relying on someone else’s handiwork.” Toshinori chuckles, letting All Might bear down upon the boy just enough to satisfy his misplaced instincts. Bakugō hardly snorts in response.

            “Someone’s gotta teach the world what she can do.”

            Toshinori shakes his head as the boy drags the tree into the woods, then takes a deep breath.

            “Oh, sensei… You’d like this bunch,” He grins as he starts jogging again, staring up at the sky. “They’ve got all the grit you and Gran Torino-sensei had and then some.”

            He breathes a little easier after that, though he won’t stop worrying just yet.

            Izuku is coming back from meditation the next morning when he catches Bakugo coming out of the girls’ side of the dorm. He waves and earns himself a death glare for his trouble. Rather than cower, he smiles. Eri is already up when he gets to the room, but she’s got a book on her pillow and a blanket over her head. She squeals when he rushes in and tickles her, letting only quiet footsteps give away his presence.

            Mei joins them for breakfast, and Izuku has to shove her off his shoulders when she tries to hitch a ride to class. No one bats an eye when she joins 1-A for lectures, or when she spends the entire time with holographic tabs open and five different videos streaming across the feed. Present Mic tries to ask her a question and receives a perfect translation in response, reminding them all that she earned her place as Anomaly number 2 quite spectacularly.

            Kacchan remains quiet all day, though his arm growls occasionally. He doesn’t relax until he sees Melissa in the cafeteria, and when he does the girl stares at him for several seconds. Izuku grins when she finally rolls her eyes and falls into step beside them.

            He catches Yaoyorozu-san and Jirō-san in the line somewhere behind him and waves meekly. Yaoyorozu seems happier today than she was yesterday. She doesn’t avoid his gaze this time, at least. If he stares a little longer than usual, she holds his gaze for just as long. Only the mental image of her hero costume reminds him that he’s staring and breaks the contest, leaving him a little bit steamed.

            Falling for the prettiest girl in school seems a little bit overrated. The fact that she’s rich AND the smartest girl in their class only makes it more so. He’s both terrified and entranced and constantly reminded that they haven’t had that talk he promised her. By the time they actually have it, he’ll probably have a lot more to answer for than just keeping secrets.

            Instead of waiting in line, he steps out to clear his head. Melissa says they’ll keep his spot, so he takes their bags and heads towards the table he’s basically staked his name to. He leaves them in their respective places and takes a deep breath. Now that he’s “Deku” and “S-class”, he doesn’t take these moments without people around as seriously as he used to.

            Has it really been less than a year since he was hiding out on the roof of Aldera middle school?

            Smiling is so much easier than it used to be.  

            “Hey, you’re Midoriya, right?” The voice isn’t quite a drawl, so much as it is obviously tired. Izuku manages a half turn, just enough to see wild purple curls, before he’s responding.

            “Oh, yeah…”

            The world slows, then darkens and stretches too fast for him to fully understand what’s happening. His body locks into place as a dull static fills his mind, trapping him in a photographic reality. Eventually he lets himself drift, unable to shut his eyes and avoid the distorted images before him but unable to look at them any longer.

            Izuku curls up and waits, trapped with nothing save his thoughts.

            At this speed, he has a few eternities before anyone can catch up.

            This is what happens when he gets too complacent.

Chapter Text

           Part 2: Evolution
           18: Alpha Down

            Katsuki is standing in line to get lunch, listening to the Doc’s yammering with half a mind, when a wave of something passes over him. Not quite a shadow, not quite a premonition so much as a sensation beyond his understanding. The cafeteria comes to a standstill as he drives himself faster than ever, running from the feeling even as he sprints towards it. It takes everything he has to breathe as the pressure washes over him, but as time drags out, he realizes something:

            This isn’t an attack- he’s being released.

            It feels like weight being cut from his body; despite his headlong plunge into awareness, it’s easier to breathe now.

            Whatever it is, it passes faster than it has any right to.

            His prosthetic shakes him down to his bones, engines almost screaming as they revel in their sudden freedom.

            As soon as the something passes over him, he races through the cafeteria. He stumbles, curses his shaky legs and continues to shove through the crowds until he reaches the table where Deku tucks himself away from the rabble. Even before Katsuki can see clearly, he catches sight of something purple.

            He hits reality like a brick through a window and watches Deku plunge into the foundation of U.A.’s cafeteria. Everyone in the cafeteria freezes and turns, staring as Katsuki hoists the discount troll into the air by his shirt.

           Hitoshi frowns at the boy in front of him. It’s hard to believe that this is ‘Deku’. People have been talking about him nonstop lately, but all the rumors make it hard to put the pieces together. Some days this kid is stronger than All Might, some days he looks like he’s about to cry. A few people have claimed Bakugō and that pink haired chick are the ones doing crazy stuff.

           Well, Hitoshi is getting answers today. Mystery boy responds easily, and Hitoshi grins when his quirk latches on. It’s something like a handshake, or a tug on a fishing line, and the tug…

           Hitoshi’s eyes widen as the line goes taught and snaps. Mystery boy’s eyes flutter, then shut, and he sways for a moment before he falls backward. The floor of the cafeteria shatters. Dust falls from the ceiling. People scream.

Suddenly Hitoshi is dangling in the air, but he barely processes the angry blonde hoisting him into the air; his can’t peel his eyes from the cracked floor beneath the sleeping mystery boy.

           “The fuck did you do to him? Hah?!” The blonde shakes Hitoshi for emphasis, jogging him from his stupor. Not that it matters. He can barely form the words to explain as he reaches up and grabs the boy’s… wrist. Singular. At the very least he can tell people that Bakugō’s prosthetic is warm to the touch.

           “I didn’t… I don’t, that’s not…”

           “Katsuki! Put him down!” Bakugō glares at the blonde girl, then back up at Hitoshi. Hitoshi risks a glance at the new girl, then forces his eyes back to his aggressor. Any thought of asking for help flies out the window when he sees the rage and panic in the girl’s eyes.

           “He did something, Doc—”

           “I know that, you idiot!” Bakugō’s glare narrows so quickly that Hitoshi’s life begins to flash before his eyes. He really doesn’t need to remember all these embarrassing early memories, but at least he isn’t about to wet himself. This is fine. “You’re the only one who can carry Izuku! We need to get him to the lab!”

           For a moment Bakugō hesitates. Hitoshi’s life continues to flash before his eyes, including that one time he’d first discovered his quirk and nearly took a candy shop for all they were worth. Good times. Then Hitoshi hits the ground, scrambling away from the angry S-class students as they pick up the mystery boy and leave. A lot of people are following them, random people who aren’t from the hero course and a few people FROM the hero course, and now teachers are flooding the cafeteria.

           When All Might walks up to Hitoshi and offers him a hand, he wonders if maybe this day was worth it. He’s barely on his feet when Nezu appears on All Might’s shoulder, and the stare of the principal makes Hitoshi feel even smaller than Bakugō’s had.

           “It looks like we need to talk, young Shinsō.”

           -

           “I just wanted answers.” Hitoshi mutters. The teachers aren’t ALL glaring at him, at least, but he feels small beneath their stares. Nezu hums from his perch on All Might’s shoulder.

           “I see… and, just to satisfy my curiosity, what was the result of using your quirk against Midoriya-kun?”

           “It’s never done that before…” Hitoshi sighs, rubbing the back of his neck as he thinks back to that… sensation. He’s gotten pro heroes, villains, civilians, therapists… it’s never failed him like that before. “It felt like I was pulling something too heavy for my quirk. Like fishing up a boulder or a fish that was too powerful for the line.”

           “That’s a very useful analogy, young Shinsō,” All Might smiles and offers a thumbs up. Hitoshi absolutely doesn’t blush.

           “For now, you’ll be excused from your classes today,” Nezu chirps. Hitoshi blinks up at the principal, half expecting suspension or expulsion, but also expecting something different because… well, it’s U.A. “Power Loader will escort you down to Hatsume’s lab so that tests can be conducted, and you’ll accompany Shield-san and Hatsume-san until the end of the day so that everyone is close at hand. We will play tomorrow by ear.”

           “Is that really a good idea?” Aizawa grumbles. Hitoshi watches the teachers share looks of disbelief and discontent and finds himself wondering what kind of tests they’re going to do on him. “We don’t know what kind of exposure…”

           “It’s fine!” Nezu waves a paw as if to backhand the question. “This is exactly why Midoriya and Hatsume are here in the first place. The lockdown is supposed to encourage growth, but so far, we haven’t had any of the hero course students show the signs. Perhaps this kind of conflict will speed things along.”

           Hitoshi shrinks even further under the look the teachers give him. It’s almost… pitying.

           What the hell are they about to do to him?

           -

           “You’re telling me there’s a massive laboratory under the school?” Hitoshi mumbles.

           “Pretty much.”

           “And it was built by one of your students in less than a year?”

           “Well, not exactly,” Maijima-sensei sighs and scratches at his shoulder. Hitoshi breathes a sigh of relief before the man continues. “She built a functioning artificial intelligence, and then some metal alloys that we’ve never seen… between those two, she basically had machines do all the work.”

           What. The. Fuck.

           Hitoshi laughs nervously as the elevator descends. They’ve been in the damn thing for almost five minutes when it reaches the bottom, and Hitoshi knows falling that far from the ground floor of the school can only mean that he’s in some kind of dungeon. For the first time ever, he wonders if maybe U.A. isn’t as by the books as they seem.

           They walk out of the elevator onto a small platform, and Hitoshi’s neck cranes as he looks for the roof. Between the hanging roof panels he can trace the walls as they reach up towards the surface, gradually disappearing into a shadowy fog. A few meters ahead of him the floor falls away, leaving a series of catwalks the only thing keeping them from falling into an equally shadowy abyss. Most of the room is white, though Hitoshi can’t actually put a finger on where the light comes from; everything between the catwalks and the hanging ceiling panels is just white enough to be well lit. Hitoshi risks a glance over the edge as Maijima-sensei walks out onto the catwalk, then shudders. Red lights shift and crawl through the darkness. Some of them turn to look back at him. It feels vaguely as if looking down into the abyss has brought his nerves to life, letting them crawl against the backs of his eyeballs and the insides of his skull.

           Or maybe that’s his anxiety. Who knows? Hitoshi thinks this could all be an extremely realistic nightmare sent to discourage him from talking to the mystery boy in the first place.

           No, time travel is too much. This is fine. Hitoshi can handle this.

           He stops when Maijima-sensei takes a left turn and starts down a set of steps. Before them is a massive platform mounted to the left side of the room, suspended beneath a massive black metal contraption. At first glance it seems to be a series of rings, each one smaller than the last, attached to one another with hydraulics and tubes and LEDs, connected to a small orb that hangs slightly above eye level. It moves with the grace of a human spine, cycling dozens of parts to shift the orb around the platform. When it turns, a bright purple light locks onto Hitoshi and… blinks?

           There’s more on the platform: a cluttered, ramshackle cubicle on the left beside a stack of black metal cubes, a pair of chairs hanging from the overhead rig over on the right, a wall of tools and file cabinets tucked against the far wall. Everyone else is gathered around a console and a tube full of green liquid near the far end of the platform. Hitoshi counts the blonde lady, a pink haired girl, another pink haired girl, a little kid, Bakugō and Maijima-sensei… as well as an older, plain looking student.

           When he finally forces his legs to move, the crowd turns toward him. He slows when he realizes that one of the pink chicks isn’t human, but some kind of mechanical approximation, and that everyone looks upset. Rather than being “angry with him” they seem more “upset with the results”. Not surprising, really. Bakugō looks less angry than usual, though that isn’t saying much.

           “So you’re the heretic!” Hitoshi flinches as the pink haired chick grabs him by the shoulders. She drags him across the remainder of the platform, feeling him up through his uniform as she presses him into the semicircle of angry strangers.

           “It’s Hitoshi, actually. Hands off,” He swats the girl’s hands, though it doesn’t stop her. “Who are you again?”

           “That’s Hatsume Mei,” The foreign blonde says. “And I’m Melissa Shield. Please call me Melissa. You’ve met Bakugō Katsuki, and you may have heard of Togata Mirio… We’re the members of the S-class, along with Midoriya Izuku-kun.”

           Hitoshi turns to the body floating in the green tube. It’s the first time he’s heard the boy’s name, other than ‘maybe Deku’. There are a bunch of tubes attached to him now, including a facemask and a several wires attached to different parts of his body. A little bit of nausea rolls through Hitoshi when the name settles.

            The kid seems smaller now. No different from before, really, but in some sense... It’s all so mixed up. Hitoshi isn’t sure if the boy in the tube is the person he was looking for.

           “Extra tried to brainwash him,” Bakugō barks, snapping the silence in half. He takes two steps forward, glaring at Hitoshi. “Anyone who responds gets trapped and forced to do whatever he wants.”

           “Hey, whatever this is, I didn’t do it!” Hitoshi snaps. Remembering the feeling of his quirk shattering makes his stomach churn violently, a feeling that meshes all too well with the anger boiling out of his pores. “My quirk didn’t work!”

           “That’s your excuse?” Bakugō grabs Hitoshi’s jacket with his prosthetic. It only takes one hand to drag Hitoshi onto his toes, despite Hitoshi’s height advantage. The arm growls like an engine, giving off an acrid scent that burns Hitoshi’s nose.

           Melissa yelps, only to be stopped by the third year- Togata. Hitoshi’s eyes dart back to Bakugō, blinking beads of sweat from his eyes.

           “I just wanted answers…!”

           “Fuck that.” Bakugō snarls. Hitoshi’s feet scratch against the metal as he’s hauled down to Bakugō’s eye level. The motion leaves him half kneeling, half hanging from the boy’s grip.

           “I…” Hitoshi’s eyes water as he stares back. Bakugō’s eyes aren’t nearly as angry as Hitoshi thought they’d be. They’re cold, as if Bakugō knows exactly what Hitoshi is thinking. “What do you want from me? How was I supposed to know…!”

           “You’re one of those fucks who talked shit about USJ, right?” Bakugō drops him, leaving Hitoshi on his knees. “You wanted to be promoted to the hero class because you couldn’t fight some fucking robots. You didn’t get anything after the festival, or last fall, and now here you are.”

           Bakugō says it like he’s putting nails in Hitoshi’s coffin. Hitoshi’s chest burns.

           “‘Just wanted answers’ my ass,” Bakugō snorts. “You got pissed because you didn’t get what you wanted, then went after the guy at the top of the food chain. Right?”

           “So what?” Hitoshi coughs. Bakugō’s foot hits his shoulder, laying him flat out on his back, and then settles on his chest with just enough pressure to keep him down.

           “You got lucky, idiot,” Bakugō’s eyes are cold, but Hitoshi can see lights running through the prosthetic. Flickering reds and yellows. A faint whine fills the air as something begins to burn, pouring exhaust fumes over Hitoshi’s uniform. “If you’d pulled that shit on me, or the Doc, I’d have torn you to pieces. Nezu would have fucking let me, too. But you picked the ONE dumbass who won’t fight back.”

           “Doesn’t look like he could if he wanted to…” Hitoshi spits. Bakugō’s lip twitches, drawing his frown into an angry, disdainful snarl.

           “Whose fault is that?”

           “How was I supposed to know?!” Hitoshi shouts, balling his fists. Bakugō’s shoe may as well be a boulder pressing down on his chest. “This never happens!”

           “Who cares!” Bakugō shouts, leaning over Hitoshi with wide red eyes. “You used your quirk, now he’s unconscious! It doesn’t matter what you fucking wanted!”

           Without his anger, he can’t fight off the guilt. Tears rise in his eyes, and Hitoshi isn’t sure if it’s the smell of Bakugō’s prosthetic or his shame.

           “Feh… you already knew,” Bakugō snorts when he sees the tears. “Damn extras.”

           Bakugō stalks off without another word, leaving Hitoshi on the floor. Hitoshi takes a deep breath, scrubbing at his eyes for a moment before he notices someone offering him a hand. Melissa’s smile is familiar, much like her disappointment: She’s kind, but she can’t bring herself to forgive him.

           He takes her hand anyway.

           “Now that that’s out of the way!” The pink one- Hatsume, grins like a madwoman. “I was in the middle of explaining when you and sensei arrived, heretic!”

           “It’s Hitoshi…” Hitoshi growls.

           “Sure! Anyways,” Hatsume steps up to the green tube and twirls with a flourish. A series of holograms appear at her fingertips, seamlessly offering data and graphs that hover in midair with no obvious source. “What you’re looking at is the Kakopod, the ‘Complete Comprehensive Recovery Pod’! Also known as the Monkey Bottle!”

           “Kakopod?” Maijima-sensei groans.

           “With a k!” Hatsume’s grin widens. Or maybe Hitoshi is sensing just how manic this girl is, because it doesn’t seem as though she can smile any wider.

           “Wait, wait, just…!” Hitoshi hesitates when they look at him. The robot hanging overhead quietly shifts to peer over Hatsume’s shoulder, and it feels as though the entire room is bearing down on him from the other side of that stare. “Contrary to popular belief, most people have no idea who you people are. Mind explaining who this guy is?”

           “Midoriya Izuku is listed as the first anomaly,” A faint click echoes as the robotic eye lowers into view. “Though it may be hard to believe, Anomalies are individuals who have evolved without explanation.”

           “Okay…” Hitoshi sighs, rubbing his forehead as he fights off the urge to leave. He shouldn’t have to explain that none of them are EXPLAINING anything, but people do this pretty often. Getting it from a robot is… different. The fact that he recognizes the voice from that weird ceremony Nezu held back at the beginning of the term tells him more than anyone else has so far. “So, this kid is… some kind of weird experiment?”

           “Don’t get it twisted, Purple,” Bakugō scoffs. “Deku is too fucking stubborn to take care of himself.”

           “Midoriya Izuku is a quirkless individual capable of exceeding All Might’s physical abilities,” The machine offers. Hitoshi sighs, both because that explains everything and NOTHING at the same time.

           “I put god in a coma. I’m flattered.”

           “If Deku’s a god, I’m a fucking Buddha.” Bakugō growls.

           “If anything,” Melissa stalks out to the holograms floating beside Hatsume, glaring at Bakugō with a tiny smile. “Izuku is Buddha, and you’re the monkey king.”

           “Better than fucking Vegeta,” Bakugō sneers.

           “You guys DO get my references!” Hatsume cheers. Hitoshi glances to the side as Maijima-sensei sighs and pulls a flask from one of his pockets. The way he knocks it back suggests it isn’t water, but Hitoshi can’t really blame him.

           “Wait, if he’s Vegeta, who am I?” Togata blinks innocently.

           “Krillin.” Bakugō grumbles.

           “Hatsume, why did Midoriya pass out when he got brainwashed?” Maijima-sensei asks.

           “Yes, I think that’s the question on everyone’s mind!”

Hitoshi half turns, half dangles his head over his shoulder, as Aizawa arrives with Nezu perched atop his shoulder.

           “Principal!” Hatsume cheers. “Well, Izuku is medically stable, so we think he’s unconscious. It seems like the brainwashing managed to override the bridge between his conscious and unconscious sensory intake and the strain was too much.”

           “Do you know what kind of adaptations caused the conflict?” Nezu asks.

           “There’s no adaptation,” Every eye in the room turns to Bakugō. The boy rolls his eyes, then sighs heavily as he accepts his fate. “It has nothing to do with his body or his strength. You would’ve seen that on all the damn tests that you put Deku through.”

           “You’re implying that it’s a trait of the Anomalies in general.” Nezu states.

           “No shit. When was the last time any of you sat down and thought about how time works?” Bakugō steps forward, standing between the women and the guests. “Oi, Eyeball, pull up videos of Sparky and Deku fighting.”

           Hitoshi’s eyes widen as the video appears. The kid, Midoriya, doesn’t actually move. Rather, Togata chases him around a sparring arena and stumbles whenever Midoriya teleports from one place to another.

           “Time is a fucking constant. Nobody is built to handle speed like that. You get lucky if you can keep up with what’s right in front of you when you move that fast,” Bakugō shoves his hands in his pockets, glaring at each of them in turn. “Deku moves like a regular person because he forces himself to. Slowing down this much all the time is a fucking chore.”

           “Ah… I think I see,” Nezu clasps his paws together, staring at the boy floating in the tube. “Midoriya’s control over his perception of time was taken away from him when he fell to the brainwashing.”

           “From what our tests have recorded, Izuku translates physical distance directly across fractions of time,” Melissa says quietly. “He can cover meters in fractions of seconds… or less…”

           “Purple’s quirk disconnects your body from your brain,” Bakugō growls. “Deku got stuck waiting for the rest of us to catch up and he passed out.”

           “Then we have no idea when he’ll wake up, or how to wake Midoriya up in the meantime.” Nezu says.

           “At the very least, I’ll be running diagnostics constantly,” Hatsume crosses her arms, staring at the boy in the tube. “Midoriya’s vitals are all kinds of crazy! Hopefully, I’ll be able to figure out what’s going on that might have been missed by traditional testing.”

           “Before you ask, Principal Nezu,” Melissa chimes in. “Before today, Izuku weighed somewhere around four hundred to four hundred and sixty kilos. We’ve already discovered that the number is rapidly decreasing, even if his overall health isn’t deteriorating.”

           “He’s losing weight without losing mass?”

           “Something like that,” Melissa frowns. “The nanomachines in his bloodstream are reporting that his muscle fibers aren’t decompressing or deteriorating, and his body isn’t shutting down. He’s just sleeping. There’s no way to pierce his skin, but he doesn’t seem to need an IV or any nutrients. All I can say for sure is that he’s asleep and that he’s healthy, but we don’t know why or how yet.”

           “Keep me informed, please!” Nezu’s grin returns. “Now, after some thought, I’ve determined that Shinsō-kun shall be joining you for all your tests. If that’s unsatisfactory, please let me know. I’d like to know if this happens to anyone else, but that should only be tested once Midoriya-kun is awake. Losing another Anomaly would put us in a bad situation.”

           “Wait, I,” Hitoshi frowns. “No one has explained ANYTHING! This guy is in a coma, I put him there! We’re, like, twenty stories underground in some psycho laboratory! I didn’t sign up for this!”

           “Given the circumstances, I’m fairly certain this is just another stage of the Anomaly syndrome. However, young Shinsō-kun, you’ve proven that your quirk reacts poorly with the Anomalies,” Nezu’s eyes fall on Hitoshi with none of their usual humor. “Even if I wanted to return you to your classes, you’ll need to face disciplinary actions for using your quirk against Midoriya. Melissa-chan and Hatsume will run some tests on you and your quirk factor, as well as recording how your quirk interacts with others. For the foreseeable future, you will behave as a student of the S-class: namely, you’ll be temporarily subject to Aizawa’s and Kurobayashi’s authority. Whenever Midoriya wakes up, you’ll face the consequences of your actions… and in the meantime, you will remain indebted to his family. Do you understand?”

           Hitoshi’s mouth goes dry. It feels strange: Nezu is essentially signing his death sentence. This is a stay of execution. At the same time, Nezu is putting Hitoshi exactly where he wants to be… with none of the benefits and all of the consequences. Consequences that Hitoshi didn’t fully understand.

           “Yes sir,” His eyes drop to the floor.

           “Good. Now, please report to Melissa and Hatsume for testing. I will have your things moved to the S-class dormitory in the meantime,” Nezu says. Aizawa, taking the cue, turns and leaves. There’s some vague conversation between the two, but nothing that Hitoshi can make out over the blood coursing through his ears.

           “Well, that was uncomfortable!” Togata-senpai lets out a strained chuckle. “I look forward to working with you, Shinsō-kun!”

           “Yeah.” Hitoshi licks his lips and turns back to the other students, trying not to give away his trembling. The idea of ‘disciplinary action’ worries him. When his eyes lift from the floor they gravitate towards the tube, and the shirtless boy within. Looking at it makes him feel worse. Bakugō hit the nail on the head earlier: Hitoshi used his quirk against a stranger without knowing what might happen. It was sloppy, rude… incriminating.

           He deserves to be punished for it. What had he been thinking?

           But at the same time, he feels a shiver run up his spine. Something restless cuts through the sick feeling in his gut. Despite everything, it feels like he’s close to what he’s been looking for. Maybe, if he’s not expelled, this will be a good thing.

            “Alright heretic!” Hatsume cheers. “Strip!”

           “What—” Hitoshi’s eyes widen as the girl approaches him. She tosses her jacket and coat aside, leaving her in a sports bra and a baggy pair of industrial pants, and cracks her knuckles as she moves towards him. “Hey, wait a sec…!”

            “Science waits for no one! Strip!”

           Stain is resting when he feels it roll over the city. There’s no way to explain it exactly, only a faint shudder that runs through him and a sudden taste in the air. He’s on his feet instantly, staring out the window at the cityscape beyond. If he has to guess, or put the sensation into words, it feels as though he can breathe easier. As if some kind of pressure has been removed from his shoulders. Only his unique personal experiences provide the most apt metaphor for what he’s feeling.

           This is the sensation of a weapon falling from one’s throat, or the gaze of a predator drifting away from possible prey.

           Rather than feeling liberating, it leaves Stain frowning viciously at the horizon.

           “You’d best not be dead, boy. If you’ve left them, then these people are truly forsaken.”

           Beneath the outskirts of Tokyo, the white halls of a laboratory are dyed red. Assistants and researchers alike fly through the hallways beneath the flashing lights. In the history of this particular facility, there has only been a situation like this once. The veterans present for that incident are only ones who aren’t running for the exits; they know that there’s no way out of a code red. Rather than waste their energy, they walk to their offices and prepare in their own ways.

            Amid the white coats, a man in a black suit walks with a purpose. He ignores the way they press themselves against the wall as he passes. Breathing the same air as he does is more dangerous than remaining at their stations, so they wait until he’s several meters past them before they risk moving. Thin spectacles rest on the bridge of his nose and he wears a silver tie, but otherwise there is nothing about him that stands out save for the cold look in his eyes.

            In the center of the facility is something that was once an elevator. Now it is best described as a reinforced box of metal that occasionally slides up and down. He swipes a card through the reader, then scans his fingerprint and allows the retinal scanner to pass over him while the fingerprint scanner draws blood. Only when his DNA, blood type, heart rate, fingerprint and retinal scan are found acceptable do the doors begin to open.

            It opens five times: a vault wheel retracts the horizontal reinforcements first. Once the atmosphere in the containment lab has been tested, the vault wheel retracts the diagonal reinforcements and locks them in place. The eight steel beams rest in the middle of the doorway like an asterisk speared through the vault wheel. When the containment chambers in the lower lab report that they are uncompromised, several metallic clanks are heard from the outer edges of the door panel. After the door is free to move and the excitation rate of the subjects in the lab is within a certain range, the hydraulics pull the door back and up towards the ceiling of the elevator.

            The process takes several minutes.

The man in black watches the process with disinterest, enters the box, and goes through the process twice more.

            Unlike the analysis rooms and offices overhead, this room is black and poorly lit. The containment lab is a military bunker built around three simulated environments. Several computer stations and machines are mounted to the walls. A line of workstations stands between the elevator and the containment cells, but the scientists in the containment lab are all standing with their backs to the walls. When the man in black enters, several of them try to shuffle away from him. He pays them no mind.

            He stalks out of the elevator, around the workstations, straight towards the handrail between the monitor station and the containment cells. Most of the lab has been sunk into the foundation of the island, stacking the cells on top of one another so that what lies in the lowest cell can only break out by fighting the creatures locked on top of it. That being said, the thing contained in the lowest cell is kept restrained, sedated, impaled and locked within a space only slightly more hospitable than a vacuum.

            Still, the threat remains. Do with that what you will.

            Beyond the handrail lies something similar to a zoo enclosure. This, the first one, is similar to a forest, complete with a simulated river flowing into a small pond. It’s roughly twenty meters to a side, lined by three layers of bulletproof glass seamlessly cast into a cube. Fake sunlight pours from the ceiling, where simulated sky is projected by the upper panel.

            What was once a gorilla sits in the corner of the enclosure.

            The man in black hums quietly as the gorilla looks up at him, then back at the ground. He walks to the right, past the edges of the containment cell, and stops in the corner of the observation deck. A door is mounted to the wall here, though it is reinforced like the elevator, and he goes through the five-step process yet again.

            On the other side of the door is a staircase that is barely wide enough for one person. It is mounted to the wall for maintenance and observation purposes, but the man in black is the only one brave enough to use it. There is hardly any light here save for the simulated light bleeding through the plastic walls of the first two cells and the red lights mounted to the walls. At the base of the staircase is another reinforced door, and beyond that is a small walkway mounted to the wall of the shaft that allows him to observe and interact with his observation subjects.