Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

At most, one in three hundred students pass the entrance exam to U.A. every year. Of those one in three hundred, thirty-six are assigned to a grade, not counting the recommended students. One in three hundred, thirty-six in…

Over ten thousand.

The whole way there, Izuku redoes the math in his head, trying to make it seem less daunting than it is. By the time he reaches the front gate, he’s gotten stuck on those five figures worth of people who didn’t get in. Who could have gotten in, if not for the grace of his new professors. For the grace of literal All Might—

And there’s another tunnel Izuku doesn’t want to spiral down. Instead, he focuses on looking for his classroom. The doors in this school are all massive, which makes sense considering there had to have been at least a few people with size-changing or gigantification Quirks passing through them at some point. Still makes him feel like an insect, though.

He stops in front of his door, trying to avoid thinking of the worst-case scenario: finding Kacchan and that scary boy with the glasses on the other side. He wasn’t sure what he’d do if he got stuck with both of them for the next three years. (Although, having that nice girl with the brown hair in his class wouldn’t be so bad.)

Izuku slides the door open and peeks inside.

“GET OUT HERE, ASSHOLE!”

Izuku yelps and raises his hands in defense. “S-sorry, Kacchan, I was just—”

THNK.

Izuku stops stammering as the green-haired, mantis-headed boy with the gritted teeth thrusts a blade into the blackboard hard enough to embed it within. There’s a pregnant pause, during which Izuku notices everyone else clustered in the back half of the room. They’re not paying him much attention – for which Izuku is quietly grateful – because most of them are too busy staring at the mantis-headed boy with horror wrote upon their faces.

Suddenly, an upper body with a sneering face folds out of the blackboard on the far end from Izuku. It’s a boy, dressed in the typical school uniform but with pitch-black skin, even darker than the blackboard he hangs horizontally from. The mantis-headed boy turns toward him with fury in his eyes, but the black-skinned boy quickly grins and waves toward Izuku in the doorway.

“Hey, new kid,” he says. Suddenly, everyone in the room is focused on Izuku, even the mantis boy – only for a moment, but that’s long enough for the dark boy to tuck and roll out of the blackboard and scamper into the rest of the pack.

Before Izuku can greet them with a self-conscious hand, a voice blurts out, “Hey!” and then a rowdy-looking boy with sharp silver hair smacks into him, barely staggering as Izuku stumbles. “You’re the guy who took down the zero-pointer with a single punch, aren’t you? I saw you from the crowd!” He takes Izuku by the shoulder and shakes him roughly. “C’mon, tell these jerks what happened! They don’t believe me!”

“Don’t play so rough, Tetsutetsu. You’re scaring him,” an orange-haired girl pipes up, shooting the silver-haired boy a firm look. “He’s part of our class now, I’m assuming…?” She turns toward Izuku.

He nods quickly. “Uh, y-yeah? Class 1-B?” He asks, giving them a hasty, last-second bow. “I-it’s really nice to meet you all! I hope we can get along!”

When he stands back up, the orange-haired girl gives him an approving smile. He feels like he’s made a decent first impression.

“Yeah, I don’t buy it,” says a floaty-eyed boy with brown hair. “I mean, not your name and stuff, but the thing with the zero-pointer. No offense, but that thing was huge, and you…you look like a napkin in human form.”

Murmurs of assent ripple through the group. Izuku can’t bring himself to blame them, having lived with himself his whole life. By his accounts, this is still a pretty good first impression for him.

(That napkin comment cut strangely deep, though.)

Tetsutetsu makes a noise of complaint, letting Izuku go to stalk back toward the others. “Guys, come on! I swear I’m not making this up! I was right there!” He whines, gesticulating fiercely with his hands. “He freaking leaped off the ground and smashed into its face, like…like All Might!”

Izuku’s stomach clenches for a cold second, regardless of the continued skeptical looks from everyone else. All Might trusts him – he had entrusted him – with the secret of their shared Quirk, and Izuku had promised that he’ll never tell a soul the truth behind his new power. Even his mom thinks it was just an unheralded mutation that he’d never realized before.

Before Izuku can try and refute the claim, a deep voice clears its throat from the doorway. “I’m glad you’re all socializing, but it’s time for homeroom to begin. Take your seats.”

Izuku turns around and stifles a squeal. Standing in the doorway is a large, burly man in red and black, with spiked silver hair and the kind of face that never quite stops scowling. “O-oh, wow, it’s you! Vlad King, the Blood Hero! You-I saw you on the news eight years ago, after you subdued the Regicider Gang in Korusanto!” Izuku cries, going too hard to stop himself. “They said you used your Blood Control Quirk to restrain them with as few injuries as possible. That must have taken incredible control! I heard some people on the Internet saying that your Quirk allowed you to encase them in your own blood, but I wish I could have seen it firsthand. If you stopped them all one by one, that would explain how you had enough for them all, you couldn’t have more than seven and a half liters in your body…”

Izuku trails off into mumbles, speaking more for himself now than to impress.

Said Hero raises a nonplussed eyebrow. “That was a long time ago, but yes, that’s all true,” he says, stopping Izuku mid-rant. “I’m impressed someone still remembers that far back. It’s always wonderful to meet a fan.”

“Yeah, good for him,” a muttered voice sneers from behind Izuku, who wilts and stares at the floor. This is…probably more in line with how his first impressions usually go – outed by his own ramblings as a hopeless fanboy.

Vlad King clears his throat again and walks up to the front of the room. “All right, homeroom begins now. Everyone find your desks,” he says, pulling out a remote and pressing a button. A list of twenty numbers and names appears on the blackboard, displaying everybody’s seats.

The pack disperses as everybody finds their desks. On the edge of the shuffle, Izuku quickly locates his seat – number sixteen, the one closest to the front in the column farthest from the door – and drops his backpack next to it. He looks up just in time to see the mantis-headed boy slide into the desk behind his, shooting him an utterly murderous glare.

A stone settles into Izuku’s gut as he sits down. He had hoped to be free of Kacchan once high school began, but it seems like he’s ended up with someone very similar. His only other neighbor is a girl to his right, whose gray hair drapes down over her face like a curtain.

From the front of the class, Vlad-sensei looks out at his students and crosses his arms over his thick chest. “Right then, as Midoriya has kindly told you all, my Hero name is Vlad King, the Blood Hero. Welcome to Class 1-B.” He gives a slight nod, his own small greeting. “We’re going to be spending the next three years together, your abilities as students permitting, so get used to seeing everyone in this room.

“The opening ceremony starts in about fifteen minutes, which gives us enough time for introductions,” Vlad-sensei continues. He turns toward seat number one, which – Izuku cranes his neck around to see – contains a short, nervous-looking boy with aqua hair. “Shouda, start things off with your name and Quirk, and whatever else you’d like to share, if you would.”

Shouda fumbles around with his fingers for a moment before screwing his courage to the sticking place. “O-okay,” he begins, turning from his corner to face everyone else. “My name is Shouda Nirengeki.” He bows politely. “I call my Quirk Twin Impact. It, um, allows me to replicate a physical impact that I’ve seen and make it stronger. I…I’m just looking forward to getting stronger with you all.”

Shouda drops back into his seat, and things continue. The boy behind him smoothly introduces himself as Honenuki Juuzou, a recommended student with a Softening Quirk, followed by Kaibara Sen, Kuroiro Shihai – the boy who was hiding in the blackboard – and so on.

(The mantis boy growls softly from behind Izuku when Kuroiro stands up.)

As the introductions continue, Izuku reminds himself not to get lost in his analyses. He’ll have time to document everyone’s Quirks and his ideas for them later. Right now, he needs to listen. With luck, he’ll be staying with them for a long time.

When it’s Tetsutetsu’s turn, the boy shoots to his feet and grins at everyone around him. “What’s up, guys? My name’s Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu – stop laughing, it’s a family thing!” He snaps at the sound of chuckles around him. “My Quirk’s Steel, I can turn hard as metal,” he says, bashing his fists together with a metallic clang to demonstrate. “I like tough guys who can walk the walk, and I’m hoping you guys fit the bill!”

Two seats later, the orange-haired girl from earlier stands up gracefully and smiles. “Good morning, everyone. My name is Kendou Itsuka. My Quirk, Big Fist, lets me increase the size and strength of my hands. It may not be flashy, but it’s reliable. I hope I can be the same way for the rest of you.”

Izuku stands up once it’s his turn, trying to hold back his nervous fidgeting. He can tell from the looks on some of his classmates’ faces that they’ve already written him off as a mistake made in admissions – something to be ironed out in due time.

The rest of them…well, at least they don’t seem to have much opinion of him yet. He gets a few polite smiles, plus one expectant look from Tetsutetsu.

Izuku remembers the lie that he and All Might crafted about his Quirk – the number one Hero assured him that it should satisfy anyone who asked – but right now Izuku isn’t thinking about what to say. Instead, he thinks of All Might, during his first day at U.A. What did his classmates think of him? Was there ever anyone who looked at him and didn’t see the Symbol of Peace that he’d become?

(Of course not. They had to have loved him.)

Did anyone make him stand up and introduce himself to the world? What would he have said?

I am here. Of course.

But All Might wasn’t here, not anymore. Just Izuku.

That would have to be enough.

“Midoriya.” Vlad-sensei’s voice cuts through Izuku’s thoughts. “We don’t have time to wait around. Your introduction, please,” he says sternly.

“Oh, sorry!” Izuku squeaks, bowing quickly to his teacher before looking back at his classmates. “My name…my name is Midoriya, Midoriya Izuku,” he says. “My Quirk lets me store up power over time and turn it into strength.” He pauses for a moment, then adds, “Kind of like All Might.”

Before he can continue, Tetsutetsu shoots out of his seat. “I TOLD YOU!” He shouts to the rest of the room. “I freakin’ told you assholes, but you didn’t listen to me! I knew what I saw—”

“Tetsutetsu!” Vlad-sensei snaps. “Stop gloating and sit down.”

The gray-haired boy bows in apology and sinks back into his seat. Izuku tries to think of something else interesting to cap off his introduction. “I just…I hope we can all become great Heroes together,” he finishes a bit lamely, bowing to everyone and sitting back down.

That was…relatively painless, he figures. Izuku wouldn’t say that he’s won anybody over, but it’s a start.

“Kamakiri Togaru,” the boy behind Izuku says suddenly. Izuku turns to see him standing up and fixing everyone else in the class with a vicious glare. “My Quirk is Razor Sharp. I make blades. And I am every bit as strong as any one of you,” he declares, holding his glare for another second as if daring anyone to disagree before he sits down.

Once again, Izuku thinks of Kacchan and his utterly self-assured pride. He had the same predatory look in his eyes whenever facing down an adversary (Izuku, mostly).

Though…maybe not quite the same look, Izuku notes. There’s something…different about Kamakiri. It’s slight, but Izuku has seen Kacchan’s eyes enough to know that Kamakiri’s are a little bit off somehow. A little more…edged?

Either way, the look is gone, and Izuku doesn’t dare meet his eyes.

Introductions end with Monoma Neito, a blonde boy with a calculating glance and cat’s grin who delivers an understated greeting and summary of his Quirk before leaning nonchalantly back in his seat. (Copy – that’s interesting. Izuku hasn’t heard of any Heroes with that sort of power.) Vlad-sensei nods, evidently satisfied with his new class of students.

“And that’s that. Remember each other well,” he says, retaking everyone’s attention. “There are some people that I know who would consider this sort of exercise premature—” He says the word in a way that clearly broadcasts his distaste. “—But I prefer to err on the side of hope. I’m sure that you’re all here because you know full well what you’re getting into with your dreams of Heroics.”

The teacher scans the classroom. “Can any of you tell me the motto of U.A. High School?”

A few people raise their hand, but it’s Kendou who replies. “’Plus Ultra’, Sensei. To go beyond the limits that everyone sets for you, or that you set for yourself.”

Vlad-sensei smiles roughly. “Thank you, Kendou. You’ll all be living by that motto every day you spend in these halls – and beyond, if we teach you right.” His face becomes serious again. “But remember, being here is a privilege, one that you’ll be working to keep. You may be walking in the footsteps of giants, but you’ll be expected to walk quickly to reach them. Do you all understand?”

“Yes, Sensei,” most of the class mutters, Izuku included. He could probably list most of those giants by name, with All Might at the forefront. The time he’s spent with the number one Hero has certainly helped, but it’s difficult to think of those figures as having ever been where he stands now.

Maybe it’s meant to be inspiring, but all he can think of are the mountains that he has to climb. One For All, and being a worthy successor to All Might…that’s got to be at least a double-sized mountain for him to climb all alone.

“Now then, everyone follow me to Ground Alpha,” Vlad-sensei says, pulling Izuku back to reality. “The opening ceremony begins soon.” He walks out the door, and the class follows in a semi-linear fashion. Some of them are talking amongst themselves, getting to know each other a little better; Tetsutetsu has already pulled in a small group of people around him, everybody talking about hometowns and middle schools and if so-and-so knows somebody that this person knows too.

Izuku, on the other hand, is quiet – but also quietly grateful for the distraction.

The mouse(?) that was introduced as Principal Nedzu continues on energetically for a while about proper grooming habits for short-haired mammals such as himself, which Izuku admits could be useful for some students. He wonders if Shishida, standing toward the back of his class due to his height, is paying special attention to the principal’s advice.

“Of course, for such embryos that promise to hatch into the great Heroes of tomorrow, I can think of no greater source of proper grooming than the Heroes that stand before you today!” The cat(?) proclaims, shifting topics seamlessly. Has he practiced this speech already? Why would he have included all that information about important grooming habits if he’d planned this out beforehand? “For the next three years of your eventful student lives and beyond, your teachers will guide and shape you into the greatest Heroes that you can possibly become! Respect them well, young hopefuls, and they will take you to fantastic heights.”

The tiny bear(?) sweeps his paws outward toward the line of Heroes – real Heroes, Izuku tries not to feel lightheaded – who all beckon to the freshman class in acknowledgement. There’s Present Mic, giving them all a salute! And the Gunslinging Hero Snipe, lifting the brow of his hat to them! Even Vlad King is raising a fist to his class and—

Izuku forces himself to stop. His U.A. entrance ceremony isn’t the time to be geeking out again. He’s already received a look of reproach from Shiozaki – who’s standing next to him – after he started mumbling about the Principal’s species. Better to stay quiet for now.

He wonders where All Might is, if he isn’t present among the rest of the faculty. Maybe he used up all his time for today. He doesn’t seem like he’s much interested in presenting himself when he can’t rely on One For All to give him a boost.

Principal Nedzu continues speaking. “Of course, the road to becoming a Hero need not be one walked without aid. Each of you is merely a single figure within a larger class. Trust your peers, for the bonds you make will serve you all well, not merely yourself.

“And now, without further ado, it’s time to teach you all the school song!” The cat(?) says joyfully. “The lyrics have already been provided to you on your itineraries for today. Sing with pride in greeting your new Hero academia!”

Without warning, a peppy pop tune blares from unseen speakers, making Izuku and many other students jump in surprise. At the front of the crowd, the smiles of the teachers (the visible ones, at least) become noticeably fixed.

As the music swells, Principal Nedzu opens his mouth to sing.

Izuku is glad when it’s over; from the sheepish looks on everyone’s faces, he isn’t the only one.

Principal Nedzu bids the new freshman class farewell with a few more words of encouragement, then hops off the stage onto the waiting head of Cementoss as the teachers begin to round up their classes.  In the next rows over, Space Hero Thirteen leads the General Education course students back toward the building, giving their own gentle encouragement to some of the more uncomfortable-looking students.

Beyond them, Excavation Hero Power Loader rallies the Support Classes, struggling for a moment with an exuberant pink-haired girl who won’t stand still.

Meanwhile, the empty space next to Class 1-B – where Class 1-A was supposed to stand, evidently – sticks out like a sore thumb even without acknowledgement from the faculty. Izuku hears a few of his classmates muttering about it as well, but no one seems sure what their absence means.

Vlad-sensei catches the principal before he departs and mutters something to him, an incredulous look on his face. The badger(?) responds, setting off a brief back-and-forth of which Izuku only catches brief snatches – phrases like ‘an unacceptable absence’ and ‘as you both see fit’ that he can’t piece together on their own.

The exchange ends with the Blood Hero’s retreat, stalking back to his class after a firm reproach. “All of you, return to the classroom and put on your gym clothes,” their teacher orders as he draws near, projecting his voice to be heard by everyone. “Meet me at the P.E. grounds in twenty minutes.”

Cries of confusion arise as everyone tries to understand what’s going on. “Excuse me, Sensei, but shouldn’t we be going to meet all of our teachers and learn more about our classes?” Shiozaki asks, raising her hand and holding up a copy of the first-day itinerary. “The schedule is clear about what happens after the singing of the school song.”

“I was hoping to meet Hound Dog-sensei,” Shishida adds, sounding disappointed. “I’ve always wanted to tell him how much he inspired me as a child.”

In response to the rising discontent, Vlad-sensei barks, “Stop complaining! We have different priorities than everyone else right now. Now do what I told you and get prepared.”

“Sensei? Um, is everything okay?” Shouda asks from the front of the mass of students, looking worried.

Komori, standing next to him, pinches her shroom cap-shaped hair and frowns. “We’re going to fall behind everyone else. This wasn’t on the schedule,” she whines. “We’re going to fall behind everyone else, and we won’t be ready for classes tomorrow.”

The dour look on their teacher’s face shifts into something else as he looks over his students. Something determined and competitive, but with genuine protectiveness as well. “Everything’s fine, I promise. There’ll be plenty of time for everything later, once things have settled down. I want to understand what you’re each capable of before we begin this year in earnest.”

He pauses, then adds, “And Shishida, I promise I can introduce you to Ryou personally once we’re done. Now go get changed, we have a lot of ground to cover.”

Chapter Text

Kan lays everything out plainly; nine physical events, all recognizable from middle school, save for the inclusion of everybody’s Quirks – and the punching bag test, the inclusion of which gives Kan no small amount of satisfaction. After all, if he’s going to follow Aizawa’s example in testing, the least he can do is take it one step further in thoroughness. Being able to throw a good punch is an excellent skill to possess.

Kan lays out the importance of establishing a baseline, and how these exercises will help everyone understand where their strengths lie, and where improvements can be made.

“Pay attention to each other’s performances,” he adds. “And see where other people can teach you to improve yourself.”

Unlike Aizawa – whose teaching methods foster competition and negativity – Kan would rather teach his students to collaborate and form friendships. They’ll learn from each other much more effectively that way.

The tests commence with the fifty-meter dash, led by Tsunotori. When the run begins, she immediately drops onto all fours and gallops the full distance like a horse. Her final time is about five seconds without even using her Quirk – an impressive result. She’s clearly in excellent shape, and her quick running speed will be highly utilitarian in the field.

Tsunotori returns to a small but genuine round of applause. The girl looks surprised for a moment, but then a beaming grin stretches across her face. “Thank you, thank you so much!” She says, in a voice still slightly accented. “Truly, I was sweating as little as possible!”

Kan realizes, after a moment of confusion, that she must have meant ‘no sweat’. Regardless, she has a good attitude, and people seem to be impressed by her already.

As the running tests continue, a few other students stand out as well; Kendou enlarges her hands at the starting line and swings them backward to propel herself forward, Honenuki softens the track into mud and swims through it in powerful strokes, and Shouda simply sprints the fifty-meters with a speed unimpeded by his lack of height.

Barring a couple of incidents – one where Shishida loses control in his larger form and starts bellowing for someone to take him on, and one where Kamakiri strikes the ground face-first while using his blades to vault – everyone completes the first test with largely admirable results.

They all move inside of the gym for the grip strength test, which Shishida and Bondo dominate through sheer strength, even without their Quirks. Shiozaki and Kendou also garner respectable scores, the former with her vines and the latter by pinching the instrument between her thumb and forefinger, and Kodai somehow scores rather well compared to the rest.

(The grip tester seems small in her grasp – did she shrink it?)

Everyone else scores decently enough. Midoriya seems to struggle – odd, considering his Quirk. Perhaps he’s waiting to make an impression, as he did in the entrance exams…?

Then they hold the standing long jump test back outside, where Tsuburaba and Fukidashi manipulate the air – with their breath and with a whoosh sound effect made real – to propel themselves far distances. The winner, however, is Tokage, who disassembles herself and flies in pieces through the air before pulling herself together at the opposite end of the sand pit.

Everyone else watches with a mix of shock and admiration as she makes her way back, giving compliments and reassurance all the way. Now that is what a recommended student should be.

Next is side-stepping. Fukidashi scores well again, creating dual boi-oing onomatopoeia on either side of him and bouncing back and forth against them. Kamakiri attempts something similar using his blades to push himself around, but he loses his balance and falls over again.

Following that is the softball throw, and everyone seems to go all out for this one event. Shishida, Bondo, and Kendou thrive using pure strength once more. Kaibara grits his teeth and spins his arm like a pitching machine to build up momentum. Yanagi levitates the ball in front of herself before firing it like a cannonball. Even Shouda employs his finicky Quirk to manage a fine result – striking the softball on its logo before soft-tossing it underhand, then triggering the initial impact when the logo points downward to blast the ball up and away.

The small young man seems proud of himself as he makes his way back to his cheering classmates. Good for him – he seems like the sort who could use more confidence.

 “Your turn, Midoriya. Good luck,” Kan says. As the green-haired boy steps forward, Kan can’t deny that he’s interested to see what happens. This is an optimal time for Midoriya to cut loose with his power, a power that could easily give him the highest score in this test.

Midoriya stands in the pitching circle and bites his lip for a time, looking conflicted. Finally, he rears back, the softball swinging behind him in his grasp…and takes a mighty step forward.

Just for a moment, Kan swears he can see energy crackling around the boy’s arm.

…

Forty-six meters, the screen in Kan’s hand displays. Although he knows it’s impartial of him, Kan feels let down.

Midoriya clenches his fist, head bowed slightly, and walks back toward the rest of the class. Most of them pay him little mind, but Kendou gives him an inscrutable look, as though she’s trying to figure him out as well.

And Tetsutetsu…well, he just looks further annoyed.

Monoma finishes the softball throw with an elegant mix of Yanagi, Shouda, and Fukidashi’s Quirks – for the initial launch, for an additional push, and for creating an updraft during descent – that surpasses any of their individual scores easily. The blonde boy is met with enthusiastic clapping on his way back, and he waves his hands in front of himself. “No, no, there isn’t any need for applause,” he says, his self-sure grin audible even with his back to Kan. “Truly, the credit lies with the people I borrowed from, and not the Quirks themselves.”

He beckons to Yanagi, Shouda, and Fukidashi in turn, none of whom seem pleased. Shouda looks uncomfortable, Yanagi turns her head so her hair covers her eyes, and Fukidashi…maybe sags a little in the speech bubble? The other students, taking notice, seem a little conflicted themselves.

“You all performed excellently,” Kan says, taking back everyone’s attention. “You’re showing excellent understanding of your capabilities. Treat these tests as a learning experience, to begin your studies even stronger.”

That seems to mollify most of his students for the moment. Kan reminds himself to keep an eye on some of the lower scoring ones, to help smooth out their rough starts.

Speaking of which…

“Midoriya!” Kan calls out. “I’d like to speak with you for a moment. Everyone else, get ready for endurance running.”

From his place among the rest of the class, Midoriya stiffens. He suddenly looks terrified, as if he’s made a mistake and has been singled out for punishment.

“Uh, Sensei?” Tsuburaba asks, raising his hand. “When are we gonna our results for all this?”

“I’ll give them to you all individually after the last event,” Kan replies. “Now get going. Midoriya, I just need a moment of your time. Nothing to worry about.”

With that, everybody walks off toward the track save Midoriya, who walks over unsteadily. “I-Is everything alright, Sensei?”  He stammers, craning his neck upward to look at Kan.

Christ, but he’s small. The rest of Kan’s students have some presence to them, no matter their stature. Midoriya is all hunched shoulders and diffident, elusive eyes.

From behind his yellow visor, Kan tries to soften his face. “Midoriya, can you use your Quirk safely?” He asks without preamble. He remembers Midoriya’s performance from the entrance exam, how the boy’s limbs snapped from the force of his power and flailed limp and helpless until Recovery Girl tended to him.

He would not idly permit any of his students to cause themselves such harm.

“I…I’m still figuring it out, Sensei,” Midoriya admits, hanging his head. “I need to regulate how much power I use. But once I’ve done that, I should be fine!” He smiles, trying to look convincing.

Kan’s frown doesn’t waver. “Midoriya—” He exhales through his nose, giving himself time to think calmly. “You realize that the rest of your classmates have long solved that problem for themselves, don’t you?” He asks. “And you’ve had more than a month since your entrance exam to join them. If you still haven’t developed some ability, then…”

He lets it hang, because he’s sure from the look on Midoriya’s face that the boy knows what will happen if nothing changes.

“I know…I know,” Midoriya mumbles, biting his lower lip and clearly trying to keep the tears pooled in his eyes from spilling. “I’m trying, Sensei, I really am. And I think I know what I’m supposed to be doing, but I just…I haven’t figured out how to accomplish it. Not yet.”

Kan raises an eyebrow. “Is there some reason you’ve never done that before now, Midoriya?” He asks. It’s puzzling – a Quirk as powerful as Midoriya’s should have granted him a wealth of Quirk counseling and other such attention when he was young. There shouldn’t be any reason that the boy would show such inexperience with it.

Barring extenuating circumstances, anyway…

Midoriya takes a deep breath. “My Quirk, uh, lets me stockpile power, Sensei,” he begins. “But when I was younger…it has to build up over time before I can use it. So when I was younger, I kept using it up because I didn’t have much of it.” He draws his lips into a pained line. “So then, when I, uh, couldn’t use it again, everybody thought that I was just Quirkless, and so did I.”

There it is, Kan realizes with a pang in his chest. He’s heard of cases like this – never met any of the people involved, but Ryou has been generous enough to share what he can. Some people fail to recognize that they even have Quirks until long after the damage is done, simply because their powers are more opaque or indirect than others’ – for example, a man who thought he was just unlucky enough to be constantly injured, never realizing that he was taking on the injuries of people around himself.

Kan coughs awkwardly. “And how long ago did you realize that you do have a Quirk?”

“About a year,” Midoriya replies. “But I didn’t want to use it up before I came here, so I-I didn’t spend a whole lot of time working on it.” He grimaces, realizing that it’s not much of an excuse.

And that puts Kan in a bit of a difficult position. He’s had to teach his fair share of students with external issues before, but Midoriya sounds like he’s more or less starting his development from the very beginning. Kan doesn’t mind having to provide extra focus for a student who needs it, but he’s not sure that he can give Midoriya the sole attention that he needs without courting allegations of favoritism.

Were he Aizawa, or were Midoriya less of a clearly promising student, Kan could merely expel him and wash his hands of his future. However, the boy’s selfless display in the entrance exam still shines clearly in Kan’s mind.

If there’s anything that Midoriya doesn’t deserve after all that, it’s further injustice.

Kan lets out a long exhale through his nose, trying not to sigh too obviously. “Midoriya,” he begins, choosing his words carefully. “U.A. didn’t become the highest accredited Hero academy in Japan because it takes itself lightly. To be a student at this school means to prove your value again and again, exhaustively so, to demonstrate that your luster shines beyond that of mere pebbles.”

From behind his own eyes, Kan feels the hard intensity of his gaze, and knows that it must be unfathomable for Midoriya. “You must show that you can become a diamond, that all the havoc of the world and its villainy won’t break you. Because above all else, it will try, and we must ensure that it doesn’t succeed once we can no longer reach you.”

Kan shakes his head slightly, working to dispel some of the ferocity that he’d built up. “I understand that that’s an unfairly lofty prospect, but the facts don’t lie, Midoriya. Do you know what the failure rate of new Hero agencies throughout the first year is across the entirety of Japan?”

Midoriya stares at him silently. Kan is about to answer his own question when the boy speaks. “Because the agency wasn’t profitable, or because the Hero in charge was killed in action?” He asks.

Kan blinks, taken aback. “Um, either.”

Midoriya bites his lip and averts his eyes in thought. “…About fifty-nine percent, mostly closures, I think,” he answers vacantly. “But the statistics from the Heroics Commission were vague regarding whether agencies taken over by sidekicks counted toward failures. There were several givens theories for why that percentage has been slowly increasing for the past several years. The presence of All Might has resulted in drastically lowered crime, but the number of new agencies introduced per year has remained fairly static…”

The boy catches himself and bows his head in shame. “S-sorry, Sensei,” he mutters.

The Blood Hero shakes his head. “Raise your head, Midoriya. That was impressive,” he says. “I wasn’t certain if you had made the decision to enroll here without thinking everything through. Now, I think you’ve proven otherwise.”

Before Midoriya can get too excited, Kan lifts a finger to stop him. “That said, if everything you’ve told me is true-” Midoriya flinches imperceptibly, Kan lets it slide. “-then are you certain that this is the path you want to follow? Optimistically, it won’t be forgiving, and we can’t afford to be either. You’re…beginning from a drastically lowered vantage point.” Kan looks sheepish for a moment. “You won’t be blamed for changing your mind now. If you wanted to stay at U.A., you could transfer into the General Education class. You’re more than qualified for it.”

Kan lets the offer hang, waiting for Midoriya to reply.

He doesn’t wait long.

Midoriya shakes his head. “Thank you, Vlad-sensei, but I can’t,” he says. “I…I know it’s going to be a long road for me. I’ve known that for a long time. But honestly…all I’ve ever wanted is to work hard and become a Hero like All Might. Someone who can laugh and make people smile even when everything is dark. I…I’m willing to go as far as I need to for that.”

Midoriya looks up at Kan, pleading, with eyes that shine like brilliant green stars and a smile full of hope.

Kan has taught his share of students who’ve looked at him like that. Not all of them could see it through; some quit, some failed, some graduated and found themselves ground into dust by the realities of life. Plenty of them believed, only to be betrayed by that belief.

But this doesn’t feel like mere belief shining in Midoriya’s eyes.

This feels like a promise.

Kan surrenders, uncrosses his arms and opens up to Midoriya. “All right. If that’s truly what you want,” he says. His face remains firm, but he allows some gentleness into his voice. “But you’re the only one who can truly understand how much farther you still need to go. Right now, Midoriya, you’re already behind.”

Midoriya smiles mirthlessly. “I guess so, huh? Everyone here is so impressive. It’s like a whole different world here.”

“U.A. does have that effect on many people.” Kan lets out a quiet chuckle. “Do you remember what I told you at the beginning of these exercises, Midoriya? You’re here to learn from your peers. Witness the skill they’ve developed and use it to further your own. I’m sure some of your classmates would be happy to help you make these connections if you ask them.”

He takes a moment’s consideration before continuing. “Also, one last thing…your Quirk allows for enormous increases in strength and power, doesn’t it?” Midoriya nods. “Rather than focusing so much of your power into your limbs, perhaps you could consider evenly spreading it through your entire body?”

His and Midoriya’s Quirks are rather dissimilar, but Kan is nothing if not proud of the strength he’s built and toned naturally over the years. Perhaps there’s a connection to be made between what Midoriya has been given and what he can build for himself.

Midoriya contemplates this, looks conflicted, then forces it away and smiles once more. “Yeah, thanks Vlad-sensei! I-I’ll give all of that a try, I promise!” He says brightly.

Kan gives the boy an approving nod. “In that case, go join everyone on the track. It seems not everyone has finished yet.”

Out on the track, Tsunotori and Shishida – in beast form – are barreling neck-and-neck through a turn, resolve wrote large upon their faces as they reenter the straightaway. Tokage follows a safe distance behind them, broken into a swarm of floating limbs to rest her legs, and behind her Shouda huffs and puffs but soldiers on as well.

Everyone else has already moved off the track, looking winded. A few of them grumble as Midoriya begins jogging onto the track later than the rest.

As Kan watches Midoriya pick up speed, he wishes that he could see into the boy’s brain and better understand him. There are disparate hints here and there in Midoriya’s manner that keep Kan from placing entire faith in him; the description of his past that sounded just a little too spoken by rote, or his moment of panic when his story seemed in doubt. It also seems unlikely that no doctors could never confirm Midoriya’s Quirk, as powerful as it is.

Kan would never knowingly deny any of his students a hand of aid, but he’s had enough students to know that forcing his way into their issues would likely be an unwelcome intrusion. So, for the time being, he must wait – until the day when Midoriya sees fit to come to him.

But as Midoriya’s teacher, he will be more than ready for that day when it comes.

He almost makes it to the end – past the endurance run, past the toe touch, past the upper body stuff.

But Izuku just doesn’t feel comfortable finishing without one solid record. One instance where his Quirk lets him score high.

It’s the punching bag, the very last event, which gives him the chance he was waiting for. A test of pure strength, with nothing else afterward that a broken arm could affect. If there’s ever been a time today to take a chance on One for All, it’s now.

(He’d almost done it during the softball throw but panicked at the last second when he felt the raw power crackling underneath his skin.)

(He won’t make that mistake again. He can’t.)

Izuku watches everyone before him take their turn. It’s a straightforward exercise – the bag is hooked up to a machine with sensors to determine the amount of force exerted per punch – and most of his classmates perform well. The only exception is Komori, who only slightly budges the bag before curling inward and returning to the encouragement of the other girls.

There is some incident when Monoma approaches Shouda again during his turn, clearly wanting to borrow the latter’s Quirk again. Shouda backs away quickly, turning to their teacher for help. “S-Sensei, can you please ask him to pick someone else? I don’t want him taking my Quirk again!”

From the way Monoma’s smile doesn’t waver, he seems to take this with grace. “I promise I’m not taking it. I’m simply making a copy for myself,” he says genially. “Besides, shouldn’t you be flattered? I’ve decided that your Quirk is an ideal tool for this situation. That’s got to give you some pride.” He raises an eyebrow.

Still, Shouda stands his ground. “It’s not about pride,” he says. “I’m just…I’m not comfortable with letting you use my Quirk. I wasn’t during the softball throw, and I’m not now.” He looks apologetic, yet unwaveringly firm. “I’m sorry, but that’s how I feel.”

Vlad-sensei nods. “You heard him, Monoma. If he doesn’t like you copying his Quirk, then you need to respect those wishes,” he says.

Monoma’s smile wavers just a bit. “But Sensei…” he begins, clearly dismayed.

“He said no, Monoma,” Vlad replies sternly, cutting off any further arguments. “There are plenty of other people here whose Quirks you could copy. Why don’t you try asking them instead?”

The corners of Monoma’s smile twitch downward, just for an instant. “Of course, Vlad-sensei,” Monoma says, turning away from Shouda – who looks relieved. “I was thinking too narrowly to see everybody else. My apologies.”

He turns to Kendou and Kodai, standing close together. “May I, ladies?”

Kodai says nothing, scrutinizing him with a cold look. Kendou frowns in thought, then extends her hand. “You may. Thank you for asking, Monoma,” she says.

“Of course, Kendou,” Monoma says, shaking her hand graciously. When he lets go, Kendou looks at Kodai and gives her a gentle, encouraging look.

Kodai looks dubious for a moment, then extends her hand with a muttered, “Fine.”

Another grateful handshake later, and Monoma strolls up to the punching bag. A tap on the side with all five fingers makes it shrink slightly but visibly smaller, and then Monoma takes a few steps backward before hurtling forward. At the moment before impact, his fist triples in size.

With a BOOM that echoes through the gym, the bag swings backward until it’s nearly parallel to the ground, rocking the machine in the process. Izuku lets out an impressed sound, joined by other voices around him. He looks at his classmates and sees a mix of surprise and somewhat begrudging respect on their faces.

Vlad-sensei catches the bag before it can continue swinging and steadies it back to normal. “Excellent work, Monoma,” he says with a simple nod.

“Thank you very much, Sensei,” Monoma bows politely. He taps his fingertips together, and the bag stretches back to its regular size as the blonde boy makes his way back to the pack. If Izuku had any doubts about Monoma’s capabilities, they’ve been dashed now. It seems like he can only wield one copied Quirk at a time – there were plenty of other ways he could have strengthened himself otherwise, such as turning his enlarged fist into steel or transforming into beast form on top of that.

Still, that’s impressive in its own right; Monoma’s analytical skills must be excellent to discern suitable Quirks for any given situation, and then to combine them.

Even if he seems a bit disingenuous, it’s clear now that Monoma earned his place in this class.

Izuku’s thoughts are dashed as Vlad-sensei calls his name. He gulps and makes his way shakily up to the bag, trying to keep breathing. The softball throw was the first time he’d clearly felt the sheer power of One for All within his body; he’d been too high on adrenaline during the entrance exam to pay attention until after the deed was done. For the first time, he’d felt the power stockpiled over eight previous users coursing through his muscles, crackling like lightning but warm like a flame. He’d felt it spiking against his skin, waiting to burst out.

And that had terrified him. If he’d used it then, he knew that he would have broken his arm once more and knowing what he was about to do this time…he hadn’t gone through with it. He couldn’t make himself do that to his body again.

But what was he supposed to do now? He was back in that same sinking ship.

“Midoriya.” Vlad-sensei gives him a pointed look. “We don’t have all day.”

“S-sorry,” Izuku mumbles quietly. Vlad-sensei told him to spread the power throughout his body instead of focusing it into a single part…

Come to think of it, maybe that’s what All Might does to make his whole stature change so drastically. He wouldn’t get that from just pumping his arms full of power and nothing else, would he?

The problem is, if that doesn’t work, then Izuku’s shattered his whole body. He’s not interested in becoming a literal body bag.

He strikes a fighting stance, staring ahead at the target on the punching bag, and feels the energy flowing through his back arm again. Warm lightning buzzing against his muscles. There isn’t much else he can do to stall for time; his teacher is looking impatient, and the day isn’t over after the tests have finished.

This is the precipice that Izuku finds himself over. The edge of the skyscraper against the absolute tips of his toes. No more solid ground.

All Might would jump.

All Might would fly.

Izuku clenches his body tight, and every muscle moves as one.

He takes a single step forward and extends his arm – heat and electricity shifting and coiling within.

There is an incredible SMASH, followed by multiple things breaking. The punching bag bursts open, spraying artificial grains over the gymnasium floor.

The chains connecting the bag snap, and the bag flies back and up, nearing the ceiling as it arcs through the air. It collides with a thud, muted from the distance, over halfway up the wall and then collapses the long distance back to the ground.

The machine, meanwhile, keels over from the force of the bag being ripped from it and smashes into the floor, cracking into the strips of wood and breaking up to expose the inner workings.

And Izuku grits his teeth, tears welling up in his eyes, as his shattered knuckles throb within his splayed, blackened fingers.

But only his fingers are broken and twisted, he realizes. His hand and wrist and the rest of his arm are intact, if still tight with pain.

And as someone in the silent crowd exclaims, “Holy shit!” and Vlad-sensei snaps, “Tsuburaba!” back, Izuku knows that he’s made a little bit more progress.

He hopes All Might will be proud.

Beside the smoking wreckage of the punching bag machine, Vlad-sensei pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. “I guess I should have been prepared for something like this,” he admits. “How’s your arm now, Midoriya?”

Izuku holds up his hand, his broken fingers still partially curled into a fist. “I only broke my fingers this time, Sensei,” he says through the pain. “My arm’s still intact. I can still move it around.” He looks up at his teacher, desperate for a pass.

Vlad-sensei studies Izuku’s clawlike fingers. He looks distasteful, but not altogether dismissive. “That…is an improvement over the entrance exam,” he says at last. “But still not optimal. I told you that you couldn’t simply break yourself time and again, Midoriya. Not if you want to stay in my class.”

“I know, I know,” Midoriya says quickly. “And I’m sorry I haven’t done more to prevent that, but I promise I’ll try harder from now on. I’ll find a way to use my power safely, without harming myself. I just want to stay here, that’s all.”

Vlad King-sensei looks down at the wrecked machine, and then across the gym at the deflated punching bag, the once internal grains scattered all over the floor. “Very well, but I’ll hold you to that,” he says. He holds out a signed, pink-colored pass to the nurse’s office. “Go see Recovery Girl, then come find Present Mic’s classroom. We’ll be there.”

Izuku takes it in a hurry with his uninjured left hand and bows. “Thank you, Sensei.”

As he departs, he hears his teacher from behind him. “All right, I guess that’s it for our tests. Come up to me as I call your name and I’ll give you my notes. Everyone who didn’t get a chance at the punching bag…come up and punch my hand, I guess…”

He has to get better. Izuku knows this – and not just because Recovery Girl joked that he’d eventually run out of stamina and die.

He can’t keep making people take care of him. The real world won’t be so kind. It certainly wasn’t to All Might; Izuku tries not to think about the ever-present scar under his idol’s costume. At least All Might didn’t lose his life, too.

As Izuku passes below the front arches outside U.A., wondering just how to explain his first day to his mom, an upside-down grinning face suddenly fills his view with a shout of, “Hey!”

Izuku hollers in fright and stumbles backward. The grinning face – wait, that’s just Kuroiro – cackles in delight. “Man, you’re easy. We’re gonna have fun together.”

Izuku blinks. “Wait…” He looks up at the arch and sees Kuroiro’s knees sinking into the shadowed underside as the rest of him dangles down. “How are you not falling out of there?” He asks.

Kuroiro laughs. “What, like this?” Suddenly, he curls back upward, just as his legs slip out of the top of the arch. Before Izuku can cry in shock, Kuroiro flips down and lands calmly in a crouch.

“Anyway…” Kuroiro says, shooting back up to his feet. “Gotta thank you. You wrecked that punching bag before I had to bust my hand against it.” He laughs again, cuffing Izuku lightly on the shoulder. “Keep it up, and I’ll have a nice time here!”

With that, he turns and scampers away, leaving Izuku standing alone.

Yeah, so maybe he won’t mention Kuroiro to his mom.

Along the road to the train station, Izuku’s phone jingles in his pocket. He pulls it out and checks his texts.

[All Might]

Hey, kid. Heard you ended up in Recovery Girl’s office again. Anything I should know about?

Izuku thinks for a minute before texting. It’s taken a while for him to come to grips with the fact that his actual lifelong idol now texts with him casually. His four-year-old self never would have believed it.

Or if he had, he would have blown out his own ears with his screaming.

[Midoriya Izuku]

No, I’m okay. Sensei made us do some physical tests, and I broke my fingers on a punching bag. They’re fine now.

[All Might]

Just your fingers this time? Sounds like an improvement.

How’s Vlad King treating you?

[Midoriya Izuku]

Pretty good. He pulled me aside to make sure I was doing okay during the tests.

He seems nice.

[All Might]

I was glad you ended up in his class. He’ll take good care of you.

The teacher in Class 1-A is really tough. It would have been a nightmare for you starting out.

Izuku can’t imagine that it would have been much worse than being in class with Kacchan, but he’s glad that he got the better deal anyway.

[All Might]

Sorry I didn’t catch you today. I had a lot of paperwork to catch up on.

I’ll keep an eye out for you tomorrow, but we probably won’t meet again for a couple days, when your first Heroics class comes around.

[Midoriya Izuku]

That’s fine. Have a good night.

[All Might]

You too, my boy.

Izuku pockets his phone with a smile. Texting All Might wasn’t at all where he expected his life to take him, but he could never complain about it. He does wish he could tell him mom about everything, though – she’s always tried not to worry about her son in front of him, but Izuku knows that she would be overjoyed to know how much has changed in her son’s life.

Maybe someday, when he’s become strong enough to take over All Might’s place as the Symbol of Peace, his mentor will decide that it’s safe for him to tell her everything. Hopefully, he’ll have plenty to talk to her about until then.

Chapter Text

“Come in,” calls a gruff voice from the other side of the door, just as Kan raises his fist to knock.

Kan chuffs quietly and pushes the door open into a surprisingly quaint office by U.A. standards. A large window opens out toward the evening sky, with several training facilities spread out in the distance over a curved line. The walls are lined with bookshelves that hold countless books on psychology, and a comfortable couch rests against one wall, across from a desk covered in papers and books – as well as several noticeable gashes and scratch marks marring the otherwise high-quality wood.

A large figure seated behind the desk lets out a thoughtful snarl and sets down a handful of forms.

“It’s only polite to let people knock, Ryou,” Kan says, unable to keep a good-natured note out of his voice.

The canine Hero lifts his austere eyes toward Kan. “If I can hear them from down the hall, then there’s no point,” he growls softly. One of his ears flips surreptitiously beneath his scruffy blonde hair, a hidden sign of humor.

Kan’s usual scowl turns upward into a slight yet warm smile as he steps into the room. “Would you mind if I stayed for a little while? I need a break from paperwork,” he asks.

Ryou – full name Inui Ryou, also known as the Hunting Hero Hound Dog – picks up a binder off his desk and waves toward the couch. Kan settles down into it graciously, sinking into the cushions with a deep sigh of relief. He leans back and closes his eyes, savoring this rare moment of peace.

“You’re stressed,” Ryou notes. “More than the start of the year usually makes you.”

Kan breathes deeply, not quite ready to open his eyes again. “If you can tell that much about me, then I think we’re too close as friends,” he says, being facetious. Truthfully, he wouldn’t trade his friendship with Ryou for anything in the world. They had met shortly after Kan accepted his teaching position at U.A., and to the surprise of everyone else, they had become fast friends.

Kan has heard whisperings from the other teachers that his fondness for dogs played a part, but truthfully he’s always thought of Ryou as a man with a warm and passionate heart beneath his wild exterior. There hasn’t been a day that he isn’t grateful that Ryou bared that heart to him.

Back in the present, Ryou grunts. “What’s the problem? Did Nedzu stick you with a batch of trouble students?” He asks.

Kan exhales slowly through his nose and sits back up, opening his eyes and returning to some level of business. Ryou is watching him serenely from his desk; most people would consider even that look intimidating when on Ryou’s face, his eyes narrowed into thin lines carrying heavy brows, and the corners of his lips curled into a frown comparable to Kan’s trademark expression.

Kan is not most people, not where Ryou is concerned.

“I’m wondering that same thing,” Kan admits. “There’s a handful of them, I wouldn’t consider any of them malicious, but…they each require help in their own way. More so than the rest.”

“That is your job,” Ryou says. “And as long as they aren’t as difficult as that Bakugou in 1-A, I can’t imagine they’re outside your ability.” He sits up noticeably straighter in his seat, looking more like a professional in that one motion. “How many of them are there?”

For a moment, Kan runs the numbers and weighs them against each other. “At least one, and no more than…five, I’d say.”

Ryou’s eyes widen, further exposing the vertical slits of his pupils. “Five? You’re making me think Aizawa got off easy after all,” he snorts. “Describe them to me.”

Kan meets Ryou’s focused glare with his own resolute gaze. “As your friend, I’d ask you to keep all of this confidential,” he says.

“I know my prrractices, Kan.” A slight growl tinges Ryou’s retort – not a sign of danger as long as it’s left alone.

Kan nods. “Very well…” He clenches his hands on his lap as he sorts through everything that he’s seen of his students thus far. “I’m sure you would remember them by their names – Midoriya, Kamakiri, Monoma, Kuroiro, and Komori.” He raises his index finger, deciding to start with the most evident problem. “Midoriya…you remember Midoriya from the entrance exams, don’t you?”

“The pup who broke his legs and arm? Vividly,” Ryou says, face souring further at the memory. “He hasn’t improved any?”

Kan shakes his head. “Not enough. He refrained from breaking anything more than his fingers during his physical exam, but he can’t afford to keep visiting Recovery Girl after every lesson.” He sighs. “I spoke with him about staying in the Hero course, and…he means excellently, Ryou. He lacks confidence, but he’s intelligent and compassionate, and incredibly earnest. If he does become a Hero, I believe he’ll be enormously successful.”

Ryou grunts, looking unmoved. “Seems like you’ve thrown in your lot with him. It won’t make a difference if he ends up failing out of your class, Kan.”

Kan nods in assent. “I’ve already given him some advice, but it’s up to him now.”

Like any good teacher, Kan hopes that Midoriya will come to thrive as a Hero within and beyond his class. He wouldn’t wish anything less for any of his students.

With that thought, Kan’s mind shifts away from Midoriya and toward the others. “Aside from Midoriya, there’s Kamakiri, who’s temperamental, antisocial, and seemingly obsessed with proving himself. He made a few mistakes during the physical exams—”

“Which you stole from Aizawa,” Ryou fills in the gap.

“—and he was livid after them both. Enough to ward off anyone from even standing near him.” Kan’s frown deepens. “And Kuroiro isn’t any help. If anything, he’s an inciting element, given how he baits Kamakiri.”

“So keep them apart, Kan,” Ryou says plainly. “For dog’s sake, it’s not that hard.”

“I hope you’re right, for their mutual health,” Kan sighs, rubbing the side of his head wearily. “Kuroiro also lied about his Quirk during introductions. He said that he could physically enter any object, but his records say that it only applies to black-colored objects. I can’t imagine why he’d lie to his own classmates, or to me.”

Ryou drags a claw idly across his wooden desktop. “Sounds like Kamakiri needs to learn some patience, and Kuroiro responsibility,” he mutters. “Maybe All Might could tailor his lessons to get that through their heads.”

“I’ll remember to ask him when I see him next,” Kan says. “As for the last two, Monoma’s copying Quirk has caused many of the other students to distrust him on principle, and Komori…”

Kan’s broad shoulders sag. “I’m not sure she’s cut out for the Hero course. Her Quirk doesn’t appear to aid her in physical activity, and its primary offensive potential is, suffice to say, limited against a living opponent.”

He recalls watching footage of Komori from the entrance exam. Back then, he’d admired her slippery movements which kept her out of the test robots’ clutches, and the way that she’d used her Quirk to bog down the robots’ inner circuits with mushrooms was an unorthodox yet impressive display of destruction.

Unfortunately, that same girl’s performance during the physical exams left much to be desired; her small stature prevented her from scoring well on any of the events (save for the side-stepping, where she performed decently), and the ordinary mushrooms produced by her Quirk had been seemingly useless to aid her.

Ryou’s eyes narrow into a critical gaze. “You’re thinking her acceptance was a fluke?”

Kan shrugs. “I’m not sure yet. If she has the potential to remain in my class, then I’d like to help her do so, but it depends on her own ability.” He chuckles mirthlessly, the irony of the entrance exam letting someone unqualified in rather than keeping the truly qualified out not lost on him. “I can’t but feel as though Nedzu handed all of the greatest prodigies to Aizawa this year. Todoroki, Bakugou, and Iida in the same class just feels excessive.”

Ryou’s ear flips beneath his hair again. “I’m sure Aizawa will agree with you in time,” he says, the slightest hint of bemusement coloring his voice. “Which one would you take, if you could?”

“Iida,” Kan replies quickly. “Handling Bakugou would be even harder than anything I already have to do, and it wouldn’t be fair to send Honenuki or Tokage away for Todoroki. Besides, Iida seems levelheaded and strategical by all accounts. I would appreciate having those qualities in my class.”

Ryou nods in agreement. “You’d probably have to fight Aizawa to take Iida from him. He needs all the cool heads he can get with Bakugou in his class,” he smirks. “Did you hear that he’s already gotten rid of his first student?”

“You’re joking.”

“Not at all. I caught alerting the Principal of his decision during the students’ lunchtime,” Ryou says. “From what I heard, it was a boy whose only interest in being a Hero was meeting women.” The large dog-man growls under his breath. “He’s been reallocated to General Studies for the time being, good rrrriddance.”

Kan doesn’t reply. He can’t fully disagree with Aizawa’s decision if what Ryou says is true, but that doesn’t make everything fine. Ever since they began teaching together years ago, Aizawa’s methods have been a sore spot for Kan – cutting loose stragglers rather than helping to cultivate their potential as a proper teacher would, to say nothing of his penchant for enforcing competition right out of the gate.

At least when Kan performs physical exams, he does it so his students can learn from each other, not so they can create arbitrary rankings among themselves.

He pushes all of this aside; Ryou has heard it before, and even venting to the Principal has never changed anything. “Seems this year’s Sports Festival will have another prize on the line, if there’s an open spot waiting for everyone,” he says.

“Wouldn’t be the first time,” Ryou agrees. “Thirteen’s going to have some rowdy pups to handle in General Ed.”

Kan chuckles lightly. “I’m sure they’ve had worse on their hands.” He stretches his arms casually across the back of the couch. “So, on a separate note, I noticed that Shishida was gone when I got here,” Kan says. “Did you two have a nice chat?”

He hopes for Ryou’s sake that they did. Ryou has always worn his title of “U.A.’s Hellhound” like a heavy mantle, a burden that he’d rather not let anyone else bear. Perhaps that’s why handles his job as the school’s guidance counselor with the utmost seriousness, to place himself at a position where no one else can draw close enough to help carry that weight.

“He left about an hour ago,” Ryou says. His rough voice doesn’t betray anything, but his eyes flit away from Kan. “He said that he’d been hoping to meet me for a long time, and that he owed me a lot for helping him get through middle school.”

“Shishida did tell me that he admired you,” Kan says, nodding and bearing a hopeful smile. “What did he mean when he said that you helped him?”

“I asked him the same thing,” Ryou replies softly. “He told me that when his Quirk began to grow stronger through the end of elementary school, all of his friends and peers grew afraid of him, because he couldn’t control himself when he was using it. For his own sake, he almost swore it off entirely”

Ryou’s gaze turns vacant as he taps a claw idly against the top of his desk. “Evidently, his parents assigned him to emergency Quirk counseling, where he heard about me. He said that I helped him understand that he could still be a good person. That I…comforted him through that time.” The dog-man pauses for a moment, his breath audible in the silence. “He said that he had read my books, Kan.”

Kan’s gaze drifts past Ryou for a moment, lingering on the full bookshelf against the opposite wall. “Did he really? Good for him,” he says. “How did it feel to meet such an invested new fan?”

Ryou shoots back an irritated gaze, but it softens in short order. “I was…impressed that he had read so much of my work,” he admits. “He said that he loved my perspectives on pseudo-Mutant Transformation-type Quirks like his own. How their effects on their owners’ characters were so often segregated to specific states when compared to straight-up Mutant-type Quirks.”

Ryou scoffs. “I’ve always hated that treatise. Too theoretical and underexplored. But Shishida said that he adored it, that it helped him come to grip with his own Quirk.”

From the way that Ryou’s head tilts downward, Kan can guess that he isn’t used to hearing that from anyone. He’s always found Ryou easier to read than most people would think; perhaps his affinity for dogs has made him more sensitive.

“It must have felt good to hear that,” Kan says gently. “When Shishida was doing his physical exams, he reminded me of you. I was hoping that by introducing you two, you might be able to bond.” He smiles. “I thought he would appreciate the chance to meet his hero.”

The look in Ryou’s eyes changes – he seems to be focusing more completely on Kan now. “I can see why you were so determined, then,” he says. “Forgive me for asking, Kan, but is that all you were thinking about when you sent him to me?”

Kan leans forward on the couch, his posture shifting automatically into something more collected. “No, it isn’t,” he says, clasping his hands together and keeping them in his lap. “The truth is, as powerful as Shishida is already, he still doesn’t have the self-control to tame his highs while he’s transformed. I don’t think he’s dangerous or uncontrollable, but he needs help keeping his head on straight. I thought you might have some insight that he could learn from.”

It’s low of Kan to try and placate Ryou in such a manipulative way, and he knows it. But watching his friend continue to isolate himself through rage and fear is something that he’s wanted to end for a long time. If Ryou has no interest in taking the necessary steps himself, then Kan doesn’t see any other way than this.

Ryou’s lips pull back just enough to display the tips of his vicious white teeth as he speaks, uncovered by the muzzle set aside on his desk. “Then you’re only trying to teach him, Kan?” His voice sinks into a warning growl as he leans over his desk, claws gripping the edge closest to him. “And you’rrre asking for my aid?”

Though his voice isn’t deep enough for Kan to fear danger just yet, the rumbling still causes the hair on the Blood Hero’s neck to rise to a hundred points.

“I am, if you’ll give it to me. To Shishida,” Kan replies genuinely. He keeps his posture loose, as though he has nothing to fear revealing.

The standoff continues until Ryou finally untenses his muscles and leans back in his chair. His breathing slows, and the ferocity within his eyes dims. “…I’ll think about it,” he grumbles. “But I have work of my own to complete. I would expect him to impress me with the effort I place in him.”

Kan gives a slight nod. “Thank you, Ryou. You wouldn’t regret a thing, I promise.”

“I’ll decide that myself,” Ryou snarls quietly. “Now as I’ve said, I have work to complete, and so do you. If you’ll excuse me…”

He picks up a stack of forms his desk and begins reading them, evidently finished speaking.

Kan stands up and moves slowly to the door. “Good night, Ryou,” he says, with one hand on the doorknob.

“Good night, Kan,” Ryou replies, giving him a parting glance.

The door swings shut at his back, and Kan leans against it with his head lifted to the ceiling and his eyes closed as he tries to hammer his heart back into line. He’s had practice, but it still takes too long.

He was too obvious. Ryou had trusted him today, but he still nearly figured out why he encouraged Shishida to meet his idol. From what Kan has seen, Shishida is a very earnest and forthright young man, and his admiration of Hound Dog is a wonderful trait. Ryou needs somebody like him, who can help him lower the guards around his heart and realize that he doesn’t need to spend life on his own, that living is best when he welcomes people into his heart and allows himself to accept their kindness and love and reciprocate with his own.

If anyone else can draw close enough to Ryou to help him learn those things, Kan will bet that Shishida has a good chance.

Still, the look on Ryou’s face back in there – like he was making damn sure that Kan knows there’s a debt to be paid if he’s lying – doesn’t fill him with confidence.

“Damn it, Ryou,” Kan whispers futilely to himself. “You deserve to be happy, too.”

With one last pang in his chest, Kan walks away for the night, trying not to think about his best friend and doing a poor job of it.

#

“Mind if I take one of these seats?”

Izuku looks up in surprise from his lovingly packed bento and sees Monoma beckoning toward one of the empty chairs around the table, his usual lackadaisical expression upon his face.

“Uh, sure,” Izuku says. “You don’t want to sit with anyone else?”

Monoma sinks smoothly into the chair and sets his tray down before answering. “I don’t think any of them would be comfortable with me around,” he says matter-of-factly, lifting some rice up to his mouth. “They’ve made that perfectly clear from the start.”

Izuku looks around at the rest of his class scattered across the nearby tables, settling in and chatting among themselves. Tetsutetsu locks eyes with Izuku and raises a hand in greeting, but when he sees Monoma he lowers his hand and sits down next to Kaibara and Shouda.  

Monoma gestures to the silver-haired boy. “See? They already don’t like me.”

Izuku frowns. “So why sit next to me?” He asks, then quickly waves his hands in front of him. “N-not that I mind or anything, I’m just curious!”

Monoma pinches some fish between his chopsticks. “Because out of our entire class, you’re probably the only one who needn’t fear me,” he replies. To Izuku’s puzzled expression, he elaborates. “My Quirk does allow me to copy other Quirks through physical contact, but I can only replicate the base ability. Our teacher’s Blood Control, for example. If a Quirk requires the buildup of something overtime, then I’m essentially starting from zero.

“Take your Quirk, stockpiling power. If I borrowed it, I wouldn’t gain any of the formidable interest you’ve built up, only the ability to accrue it in the first place. Functionally useless.” Monoma eats the fish in his chopsticks. “So, I figured that you of all people could tolerate my presence best. Is that reasonable enough?”

Izuku isn’t sure how to respond to that. He feels like he should take offense to Monoma’s behavior toward him, but he’s too busy mired in empathy to really hold it against him. No one sat with him when he was Quirkless either. Not when they had other options.

It was a horrible feeling, knowing that your very existence was repulsive.

Does Monoma feel the same way? He doesn’t look too affected, but Izuku can never tell…

“I-I thought you did a great job, by the way,” Izuku blurts out. “During the physical exams, I mean. The way you copied all those Quirks and used them together was super impressive. I can’t imagine what kind of experience goes into making those assessments and choices.”

Monoma pauses, his confident demeanor finally giving way to something almost dumbfounded. He blinks and forces his mouth back into a smirk, still pulling himself together as he responds, “Well, I suppose I’m just something of a natural.”

The look in Monoma’s eyes as he regards Izuku is different now, as if he’s truly focusing on him instead of passing over him like everyone has always done.

Izuku takes a few bites of his lunch before it gets cold. He feels like there’s more he should be saying, but small talk has never been his thing either.

“So, um…” Izuku starts, causing Monoma to look back up at him. “It’s pretty cool that they got real Pros to teach us, isn’t it?”

He smiles, and it feels almost painful.

“I suppose it is,” Monoma nods. “You can’t really expect much less from this place. U.A. wouldn’t possess half of its prestige if it could only hire regular teachers.” He leans back in his chair. “But with such an impressive success rate for its graduates, this school pretty much has first pick of whoever it wants. And if it goes for more Pro Heroes, then that’s an even greater boon to the school’s standing.”

Izuku blinks, considering that. “I see. So it creates a cycle of recruiting bigger names and even bigger boosts to U.A.’s reputation,” he says. “I never thought of it like that. I guess we’re really lucky to be here, huh?”

Monoma doesn’t reply, suddenly paying more attention to his lunch. Izuku sits with him in silence for a bit, quiet but for the busy lunchroom around them. One table over, Kendou smiles as she and Kodai – looking notably more upbeat herself – talk about Cementoss’s class and the kind of novels that they’re hoping to read. Pony looks concerned at the mention of advanced Japanese literature, but Kendou assures her, and soon the American girl is all smiles again.

“So, uh, what did you think of our classes?” Izuku asks. “Seems like all of our teachers know what they’re talking about. I’m really excited to learn more about Hero costume design.”

As much as Izuku loves and appreciates his mother, he has to admit that his jumpsuit leaves a lot of room for improvement. Hopefully, Midnight-sensei’s Modern Hero Art History class will inspire him to come up with some ideas.

Although, it is hard to focus when the teacher keeps teasing all of the boys in her class. Maybe Vlad-sensei can talk to her about that.

“Is that so? I already have my costume decided upon, so I doubt I’ll need to revise it much,” Monoma replies, looking pleased at the thought. “As for me, I suppose Present Mic’s classes will be a helpful experience. I have some…literature in mind that I think he could help me better understand.”

“Oh, like Western novels?” Izuku asks.

“Something like that.” Monoma’s smile wanes slightly. “But I think I speak for everyone when I say I’m still awaiting our first Heroics lesson. There’s a reason why we worked so hard to earn our place in this class rather than settling for General Studies.”

Izuku feels tempted to defend the General Studies students, as well as all of the core curriculum teachers who work at U.A. – even if All Might works here, there’s no way he could make the school what it is all on his own – but he doesn’t have the nerve to get into that confrontation on the first real day of classes.

Instead, he focuses on the other half of what Monoma said: Class 1-B’s first Heroics lesson.

“I wonder what kind of lesson All Might’s prepared?” Izuku asks. “They’re making us wait until tomorrow, so it’s bound to be good, right? Maybe something rescue-oriented, so that we can build up that knowledge early. I’m sure whatever they have planned is going to be really impressive!”

Monoma doesn’t seem to be listening, Izuku realizes. His gaze is cast aimlessly across the cafeteria, a look of distaste in his eyes. “I heard that Class 1-A gets to go after lunch is over,” he says bitterly. “Why do you think they would make us wait an extra day while allowing the other class to go right off the bat? Surely All Might can handle two classes in a single day.”

He spears another piece of fish and eats it mechanically. “Feels like an injustice, doesn’t it?”

“Ummm…” Izuku stutters quietly, unsure of how to take that. “I-I mean, does it…” He stops, takes a breath, and continues. “I guess it’s kind of a bummer, but as long as we do our best, isn’t that what matters?”

Of course, he knows that All Might may very well not be able to handle that much. The thought rests on his tongue before melting away behind his teeth.

Monoma sips his drink and is quiet for a moment. “The other class will have already set an example by the time our turn arrives. I heard that they have a…most impressive assortment of high-performers,” he says. “Did you know that Endeavor’s son entered their class on recommendation? And the youngest of the Ingenium family of Heroes?”

“Whoa, really? Ingenium?” Izuku replies. He remembers the commotion in the news when the Number Two Hero announced that his son would be following his footsteps into U.A., but he doesn’t recall hearing anything about Ingenium. He tries to think back – the Ingenium family is renowned for its lineage of speed-based Quirks and forthright attitude toward Heroics. The current holder of that name has engines in his arms to achieve that speed. He feels like he’s seen something similar…

Izuku’s eyes widen as it hits him. Of course, the boy with the glasses. He’d used engines in his legs to run and kick about the robots in the entrance exam. So he was part of the Ingenium family – Izuku had no idea.

Monoma’s expression sours as he takes in Izuku’s reaction. “See? It’s an injustice, putting two monsters like that in the same class. At least throw one of them our way. As it is, we don’t have a prayer of standing out next to 1-A.”

Three monsters, including Kacchan, Izuku thinks – but clearly Monoma doesn’t want to hear that.

“I mean, we’ll never know until we try,” Izuku begins hesitantly, thinking back to the physical exam. “I think we’re all pretty good in our own way. Besides, maybe we shouldn’t be trying compete with them at all.”

Monoma’s brow furrows. “How so?”

“W-well, we’re all going to be peers once we’ve graduated, right?” Izuku asks, making a few separating motions with his hands. “A lot of starting Hero agencies work together at first to try and help each other get established, and the most successful team-ups are run by graduates from the same schools, so…”

He peters out, awaiting Monoma’s response.

The blonde boy’s frown straightens out a bit. “Maybe,” he admits. “But that will only last so long before we need to take care of ourselves. And when that happens, our ‘pretty good’ class isn’t going to compare to the titans we’re being pitted against.”

Monoma stands up, taking his tray with him. He gives Izuku a thin but genuine smile. “Thank you for speaking with me, Midoriya. This has been an…interesting talk.”

He wanders away, leaving Izuku to watch his back. Izuku wants to call after Monoma, to get in one last word. But he just doesn’t know what to say.

Izuku finishes his own tepid meal, and thankfully lunch ends soon afterward.

#

The next morning, when All Might bursts through the classroom door (“LIKE ANYBODY ELSE!”), Izuku is too busy grinning to appreciate how the rest of his class can only stare slack jawed. Sure, he’s grown used to seeing multiple sides of his idol, but seeing him as the Hero he’s adored his whole life never fails to pump him up.

“Holy shit!” Tsuburaba exclaims from the back of the room, ignoring Vlad-sensei’s reproach.

“Is that his Silver Age costume?” Fukidashi asks. “It’s got that old-timey DA-NANA-NA to it!”

Izuku struggles to contain all of the trivia that he knows about that outfit – such as all the different chest designs that All Might cycled through – but All Might’s loud declaration of, “It’s time for Basic Hero Training, children!” saves him the effort. “Starting today, we’re going to put you all through the wringer and squeeze out every last drop of heroic potential hidden within you! Your transformation into the great Heroes of tomorrow begin today!”

All Might’s perfect teeth shine as Vlad-sensei walks up next to him. “We’re going to begin your lessons by teaching you the most fundamental subject of Heroics,” he says, holding up a palm-sized card between his fingers.

Embossed upon it in silver letters is the word ‘Rescue’.

“Rescue Training,” Honenuki notes serenely as everyone else mutters among themselves. “That makes sense. You can use that pretty much anywhere.”

“But that’s boring,” Kaibara groans. “Shouldn’t we be learning how to fight villains? I was actually looking forward to that.”

“Nonsense!” Shiozaki declares, drawing everyone’s attention toward the back of the room. “Saving innocents in need is the purest form of Heroics. In the days before villains, the original Heroes dedicated themselves to protecting civilians from the natural element of chaos.” She clasps her hands together and props them up with her elbows on her desk. “We should be eager to follow in their noble example!”

Everyone watches her silently. Izuku isn’t sure what to make of Shiozaki himself, but she definitely seems earnest in her beliefs.

“Well, I can’t argue with that,” Tsuburaba says. “If she says it, we might as well listen to her!” He flashes a smile and a thumbs-up toward Shiozaki, who gives him a polite (if slightly forced) smile.

“I mean, that’s great and all…” Rin admits. “But what about people like us? We don’t really have rescue-oriented Quirks. Personally, I was hoping to learn more about fighting—”

All Might clears his throat loudly from the front of the room, looking sheepish. “I’m…certainly glad that you all have such strong opinions!” He says. “But no worries, Young Rin, Young Kaibara, and Young everyone else. We still have every intention of teaching you how to fight villains. Be patient with us, please!”

“There’s a reason we’re focusing on this before teaching you all combat skills,” Vlad-sensei adds. “Honenuki and Shiozaki touched upon it already. Even if you can stop any villain in their tracks, you need to understand how to save people in need. People who are terrified for their lives and not thinking rationally, who just want to know that the Heroes will take care of everything. If you can understand how to protect these people, only then can you consider yourself a Hero worthy of the title.

“We’re taking a bus to the edge of campus for the morning. There’s a special facility there designed for this lesson,” Vlad-sensei adds, pulling a small remote out of his pocket. “But before then, we have a little surprise for you all.”

He pushes the lone button on the remote, and the wall up near the front of the room opens. Several large racks slide out into the classroom, each made up of numbered panels bearing something inside.

Another stirring ripples through the class as Vlad-sensei continues speaking. “It’s up to you whether to bring these with you, since they’re not all designed for today’s lesson. Either way, meet up out in front of the school in ten minutes.” He turns away to hide a small smile, adding as he leaves, “I look forward to seeing how your costumes fit you all.”

Chapter Text

Izuku wonders if he’s made a terrible mistake.

Back in homeroom, he hadn’t thought twice about wearing his costume for today’s Rescue exercise. After all the effort that his mom had put into making it, he was excited to show it off to the world. Besides, he might as well get a feel for it early.

But apparently, everyone else had the same idea, because right now Class 1-B looks less like they're heading to class and more like they're heading for one banger of a Halloween party.

As Izuku stews in his bus seat on the way to wherever Rescue Training is being held (on campus, so thankfully away from the packs of reporters), he can’t stop himself from feeling horribly out of place in his bright green tracksuit and rabbit-eared hood. Everyone else's costumes look incredible – so professional and one-of-a-kind, each one fitting its student like they've worn it for years.

Next to them, Izuku feels more like an All Might cosplayer than a student at a prestigious Hero school.

(And not even a good cosplayer – Izuku has seen plenty of homemade All Might outfits on the Hero forums over the years. He knows where he stands.)

Across the aisle, Tsunotori (whose brilliantly orange costume bears an appropriately horse-themed halter) turns and notices Izuku's glum look with her own displeased frown. After a moment of eye contact, the American girl suddenly bursts into a smile. “Midoriya, I like your costume! It’s so creepy!” She cheers.

Her grin is so inviting that it takes a moment for Izuku to realize what she’s said. By then, it feels like everyone else on the bus has turned to look. He shrinks reflexively as their collective gaze falls upon him. Who knew what everyone else would think of him now?

Yanagi’s head tilts slightly as she studies him from one of the higher seats in the back of the bus. “I suppose…he does possess a leporine style reminiscent of Frank,” she says slowly. “From Donnie Darko, that is.” Her kimono, with its furry ruff, and the black mask covering her mouth lend her an ominous aura.

Tokage nods along. “Never seen it, but I love the rabbit ears! They’re really cute!” She chimes in, pointing her fingers to the roof like imaginary ears of her own. Her bright blue mask and bodysuit are patterned to resemble lizard’s scales in obvious reference to her Quirk.

“Yeah, is that ‘cause you can jump around a lot?” Tetsutetsu blurts out from right next to Izuku. His baggy green jumpsuit covers everything but his chest and his shoulders all the way down his arms, being held up by metal straps connecting at his chest and upper back. “I get it, you’re a Mirko fanboy! She’s totally awesome!”

Several of the others agree with Tetsutetsu, preventing Izuku from correcting him. Honestly, Izuku doesn’t know what he’d say at a time like this; he’s never spoken this amiably to this many people before. He’s certainly never been called cute.

Cuteness was never what he’d aimed for as a Hero, but there are worse things he can be (creepy, for instance).

“Yes, that’s what I said! Very cute, just like Mirko!” Tsunotori agrees.

A handful of the students give her an odd look. “Um, Tsunotori? You kinda said that he looked creepy, not cute,” Kendou tells her, smiling gently. “You said kowai, not kawaii. Was that what you meant?”

Tsunotori’s eyes widen. “Oh! I think you’re right.” She turns back to Izuku and bows deeply. “I’m very sorry, Midoriya! I truly like your costume! You look very cute!”

Izuku tries to process this, working through the repeated declarations of cuteness and the fact that several girls have now spoken to him. “Uh, it-it’s nothing!” He stammers, waving his hands in front of him. “I, uh, really like your costume, too! You’re going for a horse theme, huh?”

Tsunotori nods, smiling once again. “Yes, I love horses! They’re very popular in America!” She reaches behind her head and pulls the halter to the side. “I included this for people to hold onto while I carry them to safety. And my boots have stirrups for their feet!”

The horse-themed girl kicks her legs into the aisle, giving Izuku a better look of the boots around her hooves. There is, indeed, a stirrup on the outside of each one.

“So you’re like, a noble steed?” Komori asks from the next seat over. The shining in her eyes displays her excitement perfectly, even though her voice is a quiet mumble. “That’s really cool, Tsunotori.” Her legs swing back and forth in her seat.

“Do you want to be some kind of a Rescue Hero?” Shouda asks. His armored costume, complete with a lens over a single eye and a gridded display on his right hand, reminds Izuku of an old anime. “With your endurance, you’d probably do really well in the mountains, like the Wild Wild Pussycats.”

Shishida leans forward in his seat. “Pardon me, Miss Tsunotori, but can you truly carry people with that costume design?” He’s…rather minimally dressed; it had taken Izuku a few moments on first blush to realize that his “furry vest” was just his bare torso. “It seems as though you would struggle to remain upright with the additional weight on your legs.”

“Not if she runs on all fours,” Kendou answers for Tsunotori. Her costume is a blue dress, which Izuku thinks might be Chinese. “We tested it out yesterday after class. Fukidashi helped us.”

“Who’s on all fours?” Tsuburaba interjects from the back of the bus. He leans in from above, looking briefly thrilled before Rin yanks him back.

“It was a rush! That HUGGADA-HUGGADA-HUGGADA feeling made my heart BADUM even louder!” Fukidashi chimes in. There is a blank manga page attached to his speech bubble of a head, and boots shaped like inkpots around his legs.

“Dude, so you can really carry people around?” Tetsutetsu bursts out in awe. “Damn, you gotta be super strong, Tsunotori! That’s totally awesome!”

Tsunotori flexes playfully. “Oh, yes! Life on the farm has prepared me for this!” She exclaims. “Nobody hauls feed bags like this girl!”

Everyone around her laughs, including Izuku.

Now that the tension has bled away somewhat, the discussion of everyone’s costumes spreads out to everyone else.

“The way I see it, one day I’ll be tougher than any costume they could make for me,” Tetsutetsu says, smacking his fists together. “Hiding my body away behind armor would just slow that down!”

Shishida chuckles sheepishly, twiddling his fingers. “I had requested some sort of garment for my upper body, but the Support company told me that there was little they could do without it stretching overly tight. I’m merely grateful that they could provide a durable enough pair of pants.”

“My costume had to hug me really well, or it wouldn’t come apart with me,” Tokage admits. She stands up and stretches her body around to show off the entirety of her suit. “I figured I might as well make it look good!”

“I thought it would be unseemly to request a more garish outfit for such a noble profession,” Shiozaki says serenely, hands clasped serenely in her lap. “Henceforth, this humble and modest robe, fitting for such a servant of righteousness as myself.”

“…I just told them wanted some armor,” Shouda says. He waves to the lens over his eye with his screen-bearing gauntlet. “This was all them, I swear. Supposedly, there are micro-trackers in the knuckles of my gauntlets or something. I haven’t tested any of it out.”

Komori scrunches in on herself, clenching her hands in her lap. “I just, I like mushrooms,” she says quietly. “They’re toadstool-ly neat. I thought they’d make a nice idol costume, ‘cause that’s…that’s what I want to be. An idol Hero.”

“Hey, that’s cool!” Tokage chimes in, throwing an arm around the smaller girl. “Idols are super tough, right? If you can make it through U.A., you’ll be even tougher. So you’ll be just fine!”

“Makes sense to me!” Tetsutetsu says before anyone else can disagree. “Don’t sweat the small stuff, Komori. If you’ve got a real dream, then you should grab it and beat the crap out of anyone who tries to grab it from you!”

Komori’s cross-slit eyes widen. “You guys are…you’re being really nice…”

Izuku is happy to see Komori smile, but it’s hard for him to forget just how differently Tetsutetsu and the rest of the class must have grown up. With Quirks like theirs, they probably had loads of friends and teachers and family members telling them they could be whatever they wanted to be.

Not everyone can have it so easy.

He cranes his neck into the aisle to see Monoma sitting properly in the back of the bus, gesturing down the length of his costume with gloved hands and saying something unintelligible to the rest of the boys. Only Bondo and Honenuki seem to be listening actively, while everyone else is looking and speaking elsewhere. His legs are straight and his hands folded properly in his lap to crease his tuxedo as little as possible. (An odd design choice, Izuku admits, especially considering how proud he was of his costume the day before.)

After a moment, Monoma glances toward Izuku and gives him a small, genuine smile before returning to his talk.

Izuku had almost expected Monoma to sit next to him again, but it seemed as though the blonde boy’s interests were with other people today.

At least he’s making friends, Izuku tells himself. That thought doesn’t make him as happy as he’d hoped.

Suddenly, he feels a nudge in his side and his spine straightens against his will. “Hey, what’s up?” Tetsutetsu asks from the next seat over. He leans out into the aisle to follow Izuku’s gaze.

“Uh, n-nothing,” Izuku stumbles. “Just, uh, making sure everything’s okay back there.”

Tetsutetsu makes a humphing noise and pulls his head back. “Looks fine to me,” he says. “So hey, Monoma didn’t say anything weird to you yesterday, didn’t he?”

Izuku blinks. “Uh…not really?” He says slowly. “We just talked about classes and stuff. I mean, he was a little annoyed about how well Class 1-A is doing, but he didn’t seem angry about it.”

The silver-haired boy frowns as he considers it. “…Guess there’s nothing wrong with that,” he admits. He seems more begrudging than Izuku would imagine. “He just seems like he’s always watching us. Feels like he’s studying everyone.”

He crosses his arms in his seat, glaring intensely into space. “I don’t like it one bit,” he grunts.

Izuku doesn’t answer right away – he wants to answer, to say that Monoma doesn’t seem so bad once you get to know him, and that maybe he’s just used to acting like that because it helps his Quirk, which isn’t really a threat to anyone because it only copies, not steals, and everyone on this bus can probably handle their own Quirk anyway.

But he can’t say any of that, because the way that Tetsutetsu is smoldering in his seat, arms crossed and biting his lip, reminds him just a little too much of Kacchan.

Suddenly, Tetsutetsu unfolds himself – Izuku jumps, too slightly to be noticed – and turns back toward Izuku with a look of…regret? “Hey, uh, I’m really sorry about leaving you to dry at lunch, by the way,” he says, scratching his head sheepishly. “I shouldn’t have snubbed you just ‘cause the copycat was sitting with you. That wasn’t cool.”

“Oh, that’s okay,” Izuku says automatically, even though it really doesn’t feel okay. It feels like what his classmates always did to him. Never mind that he was a scared little kid who wanted anyone to like him – he was Quirkless, a modern-day leper.

He never expected to see it from the other side.

“Well, I still wanna do better,” Tetsutetsu says, resolute. “And to start that off, how’s your arm doing? I saw you wreck it against the punching bag. Holy shit, man.”

The sudden change in topic throws Izuku for a second. “Oh, it-it’s fine!” He says, holding his right arm up for show – and then realizing that it’s currently gloved.

Tetsutetsu barks with laughter, slapping Izuku on the shoulder so hard that he nearly pitches out of his seat. “Awesome, man! I still can’t get over just how mighty you are. Even Shishida didn’t throw a punch like that!”

Izuku rights himself, chuckling a bit self-consciously. “I-I’m not that great, really. It’s like Vlad-sensei said, I can’t keep breaking bones and expect to keep passing.” He flexes his once-injured fingers; the pain and tightness are gone in all but memory. “I’m still trying to figure out what he told me. He said I could learn by watching everyone else, but I have no idea where to start.”

“Damn, sounds tough,” Tetsutetsu says. “You wouldn’t have that problem if you were like me. Nothing breaks my bones!”

He sticks out an arm and changes it into steel for emphasis. “See? Unbreakable!” He grins.

Izuku stares up at Tetsutetsu’s metal arm, his eyes tracing down it to where the metal fades back into skin, just past the other boy’s shoulder.

Something about that seems to fit, in a way that Izuku can’t see just yet.

“Hey, Tetsutetsu? How do you—”

“WE ARE…HERE, STUDENTS!” All Might’s voice booms from the front of the bus where he stands. “Look sharp, children! This is your first true taste of Heroics, so prime those tongues to savor every drop!”

Izuku’s question is swallowed up in the chatter as everyone else scrambles to get a look. He takes a moment to curse his bad luck before joining them.

As usual, Thirteen gives everybody a moment to marvel before beginning their spiel – albeit this one lasts longer than usual, because Vlad has to talk down the students once they notice the river rescue section of the Flood Zone.

“Is that…a water slide?” Shouda had asked, pointing across the grounds at the rapidly rushing coaster.

Before Thirteen could elucidate them on just how much effort they had placed into recreating that perilous experience, Tokage had shouted, “Holy crap, guys, there’s a water slide here!” Then, as though the proverbial dam had burst, everyone broke out into eager chatter over what all the attractions seemed to have in store.

Suffice to say, very few of the students are still listening to Thirteen after that.

Vlad grimaces sheepishly. “I’m sorry, Thirteen. I…I have no idea where they got that from,” he says. “I can call them back to order, if you’d like.”

Thirteen listens as the “Universal Studios Japan” debate begins for the new class of students. It seems that this year, a couple of the students are even asking about concessions – Tsuburaba and Bondo, if Thirteen remembers their names.

Thirteen smiles behind their helmet. Even if it’s not quite befitting of their prestigious new academia, the raw excitement in those fresh new eyes is something that Thirteen awaits every year.

“Let them have this moment, Vlad,” Thirteen assures their fellow teacher. “We should let them be children, while it isn’t too late.”

Meanwhile, All Might watches the children from Thirteen’s other side, and the Space Hero can almost make out something akin to pride in those sunken, shadowed eyes. As a longtime instructor, Thirteen has…certain misgivings about the Number One Hero’s sudden desire to become a teacher at U.A. Never mind that Japan’s Symbol of Peace is secretly waning and seeks to influence the coming generation while he has the chance, teaching children – especially Heroes in the making – is a labor of love, duty, and incredible responsibility.

After all, there is a galaxy of difference between protecting the people and nurturing them from youth into your successors.

(Of course, that All Might evidently flexed some of his special privileges to gain this position hasn’t aided Thirteen’s opinions of him in the slightest.)

And yet, that look in his dark, inscrutable eyes…Thirteen can say many unflattering things about the Number One Hero, but they cannot in good conscience say that his desire to mold these children before him is any less than genuine.

And for the moment, Thirteen decides, perhaps that can be enough.

“I think that’s been enough time,” Thirteen says. “Would you two mind getting everyone’s attention?”

Vlad clears his throat and steps forward. “All right, everyone—”

“PAY ATTENTION, children!” All Might bellows over him, before sending him a quick look of apology. “Er, sorry, Vlad. Why don’t you take it from here?”

Vlad mumbles something that sounds like “not much point now” and Thirteen chooses to move on for his sake. They stare from behind their thick, impenetrable helmet at their students – who, to All Might’s credit, have wholeheartedly shifted their focus to the teachers. “Good morning, everybody. My name and title is Thirteen, the Space Hero. I’m very happy to see that you all could make it to your first lesson,” Thirteen begins by rote. “Before we begin, I have one or two points to make. Or…maybe three. I guess I could also mention—”

“Thirteen,” Vlad murmurs softly, pulling them back to Earth.

Right, just the two is fine for now.

“First, this facility was designed and constructed by yours truly to convey almost any and every type of disaster and crisis imaginable,” they begin, allowing a note of pride to enter their voice. “From floods to landslides, raging infernos and devastating hurricanes, this building can simulate them all. For this reason, I’ve chosen to name it…”

Thirteen points a thick, gloved finger toward the eternally distant frontier.

“…the Unforeseen Simulation Joint!” They declare.

Nobody applauds, although about half of them look suddenly smug, and a few others look very briefly annoyed.

Quickly, Thirteen composes themselves. “Second, and more importantly, does everybody know what my Quirk is capable of?” They pause for a moment, taking in the general consensus of affirmation, with a few responses to the negative. “This power I’ve held since birth is called Black Hole. It creates singularities that can suck up and eradicate anything around me.”

“And you’ve saved tons of people with it!” Midoriya cheers, causing a few people to nod along.

Thirteen chuckles. “Indeed I have,” they say, before erasing the levity from their voice. “However, I could very easily kill with it as well. It would be a simple matter, erasing a life from existence.”

As always, that drives the mood down; nobody looks stricken by this statement, merely somber. If these children have all received the Quirk Counseling that they required, this should be a fact that they’ve lived with for a long time now.

“Given U.A.’s power-oriented entrance requirements, I don’t doubt that many of your powers are similar in that way,” Thirteen continues. “For instance, Midoriya and…Kamakiri.” The former boy jumps slightly at being called out, the latter flashes an irritated look. “Forgive me for singling you two out specifically, but extreme strength and manifesting blades are quite lethal powers on their own. I’m certain you’re both more than aware of those aspects.”

“Y-yes, Sensei!” Midoriya bows, flustered.

“I know that,” Kamakiri growls under his breath, folding his arms across his chest and looking away.

“I’m telling you all this right now because it’s important that you understand the necessity of control,” Thirteen goes on. “In the real world, even with all the safeguards in place, it still takes surprisingly little to go wrong before people die. A traffic accident, an unexpected storm, a criminal with homicidal intent, and even a civilian's Quirk used poorly.”

Thirteen holds up their hand, showing the caps on their fingers that lock in their sheer destructive power. The sight alone says more than Thirteen could ever hope to convey in words.

“And that’s why you’re beginning here, instead of in combat. For all the harm that your powers could inflict, I want to teach you how to use your Quirks to protect and aid others in need.” Thirteen’s voice becomes more uplifting. They’ve passed the necessary darkness, and now can show the dawn. “I believe that every one of you has the heart to help people, the heart that every true Hero must possess. My role in this school is to teach you how to use that drive not to harm lives, but to save them.”

Lord knows that you’ll be learning plenty of that, Thirteen thinks as they squish their upper body over the rest of their hefty suit in a stiff bow. “And that’s all from me! Thank you very much for listening.”

This time, Thirteen is quietly happy when the children do begin applauding.

As Thirteen moves on to discuss each of the various disaster simulation areas, Izuku considers Thirteen's speech in the back half of his head. He can't imagine ever killing anyone, not even the most utterly vile of villains.

(His brain fills in that gap with the Sludge Incident, and Izuku takes a moment to assure himself that he would make the right choices were he in the Heroes' shoes back then.)

And yet, the Space Hero is entirely correct – it would be all too easy for Izuku to throw one punch with a little too much power, against an enemy who couldn't withstand it. A giant Zero-Pointer is one matter, but a human life is...

Did All Might ever have to grapple with this? Izuku's gaze drifts toward his idol, who's too busy acting out a dramatic shark attack (“AIM FOR THE EYES, children!”) to notice his distress right now.

Another important question for later, maybe one of the most. It's one thing if Izuku shatters himself with his power, but shattering someone else is unacceptable.

Control, Thirteen had said. How can he learn control?

“All right, then. Vlad King, would you mind sharing today's assignment?” Thirteen's voice jars Izuku out of his fugue. He'd heard, well, some of what Thirteen had been saying. He can make up for the rest on the go.

Vlad-sensei thanks the Space Hero and faces his students. “For your first Rescue Training lesson, we'll be sending you all into each of these disaster areas to perform simple rescues. You'll be split into groups for this, so be prepared to work with anyone in any scenario. Versatility is key.”

Izuku considers this with some trepidation. He's seen videos and read reports, but he doesn't have a lick of experience with real-life rescues. He can't honestly count the Sludge Incident as practice – he had no idea what he was doing, and without All Might, he would have been a complete nuisance.

Some of his classmates are muttering worriedly as well – it seems they've run into the same lack of knowledge as him. Unlike them, though, live rescues are going to be a lot harder without a functional Quirk, and the last thing Izuku wants is to be a burden on his teammates. Maybe if he can help scope things out, they'll be more understanding if he messes everything else up.

“But before we get to the live exercises, there's some additional information we need to pass on to you,” Thirteen speaks up again, cutting through everyone's worry. “I'm sure you're all anxious to begin...or just anxious in general. Either way, that's to be expected. Regardless, what we're about to teach you is important for any Hero or even civilian who wants to save people in need.”

They turn to address All Might. “All Might, would you mind retrieving Tanaka-san for us?”

“Of course not!” All Might salutes. “I'll be back in a jiffy!” He disappears in a burst of sound and air that gives everyone a solid yank toward where he'd been standing.

Just as everyone's ears finish unpopping, All Might reappears, forcing everyone to brace themselves against the shock wave. A large CPR dummy is slung over his shoulder, which he tosses down onto its back against Thirteen's protests. “I've retrieved your CPR partner in record time, Thirteen!” All Might declares, giving the Space Hero a thumbs-up.

Thirteen just sighs, swallowing their complaints. “Very well. Students, meet Tanaka-san,” they say, beckoning down toward the casually dressed, hard rubber torso lying face up on the ground. “He's going to help all of you learn to perform CPR, before I allow you all into my facilities. Please pay close attention – I do not exaggerate when I say that this is among the most valuable skills you can learn as a Rescue Hero.”

“We'll be testing you before moving onto the live exercises, so don't treat this as a joke. If you don't pass, you're not taking part today,” Vlad-sensei adds. The look on his face disavows any thought of it being a lie.

There are a few groans from among the students, but Izuku is just relieved that they're going over this. Despite wanting to save people so badly, he'd never gotten around to learning CPR – and All Might had never taught him – but now he can stop kicking himself about it.

The CPR testing goes...not great, but certainly not terrible. Only eighteen of the students pass – Komori isn't strong enough to perform the chest compressions and asks to sit out, and Bondo accidentally pops Tanaka-san during his turn.

(No one can accurately describe the sound that Thirteen makes when the rubber goes flying.)

“Don't worry, we're just going to do some additional training to get you up to speed,” Vlad-sensei assures Komori and Bondo. “Keep working hard, and you'll catch up with everyone else in no time.”

The small girl and huge boy don't seem all that invigorated, sadly.

“All right, now that that's settled, let's move onto the physical exercises!” Thirteen exclaims from the front of the crowd – Izuku's classmates let out exclamations of excitement around him.

The Space Hero removes a remote control from their thick spacesuit and taps the single button on it; in response, the ground next to them opens into an empty square of space, and something rises out from underground.

“Sensei...is that a lottery machine?” Kendou asks, pointing to the wooden garapon resting on the tall metal stand.

“Indeed it is,” Thirteen replies casually. They pick up the tray full of plastic balls next to it, each ball bearing a number printed on it, and pluck out two specific ones before setting them aside. The rest are dumped into the wooden octagon and shut inside. “Each of the plastic balls in this machine has one of your seat numbers printed on it. Since eighteen of you passed CPR training, we can split you evenly into teams of three for each of the six simulated areas.”

Thirteen holds up three fingers on each hand for emphasis.

“Each of you will be running through the basics of performing rescues within your selected environment. Once you make it to your facility, you'll all receive further details about your scenario and what you need to accomplish.”

“It shouldn't be anything too intense for your first class, but you should take things seriously anyway,” Vlad-sensei adds firmly. “Heroes need to coordinate their efforts more often than you'd think. It's important that you build that experience sooner rather than later.”

From the look of things, everyone seems to be coming around to Vlad-sensei's words; even Kaibara and Rin appear begrudgingly and reluctantly accepting.

“Now then, without further ado, let's decide your groups!” Thirteen grips the crank on the side of the lottery machine and turns it as they speak. “The trio participating in the Conflagration Zone shall be...”

The wooden box makes a full rotation before spitting out one of the plastic balls. Thirteen picks it up and looks at it briefly. “Number 4!” They call out.

“Kuroiro!” Vlad-sensei adds for clarity.

The black-skinned boy chuckles. “So soon? At least I won't have to wait.”

“Number 14!” Thirteen declares the second ball.

“Kodai!”

A look of distaste flits across Kodai's face, quickly brought back under control. “Sure,” she says levelly, making her way toward Kuroiro.

Kuroiro looks visibly awkward as Kodai approaches, his gaze drifting nervously away from her as she stops next to him.

“And finally...” Thirteen picks up the third and final ball for the first group. “Number 16!”

Wait, isn't that...

“Midoriya!” Vlad-sensei finishes.

Izuku's stomach plunges straight out of his body and into the ground.

...Well, then. He's going into the fire. Somehow he missed Thirteen's overview of that area, but the name doesn't leave many questions.

Shishida pats Izuku on the shoulder and gives him some words of encouragement that he doesn't hear, and Izuku trudges over toward the other two members of his team.

Kodai doesn't look overly pleased to see him – about as happy as she's ever looked – but Kuroiro grins as Izuku draws near. “Midoriya, my man. I'm counting on you to get us through with flying colors. You can do that for us, right?”

“Shut up,” Kodai scolds him. “You're part of this. Pull your weight.”

Kuroiro stiffens at her retort. Instead of replying he pats Izuku on the shoulder and gives him a smirk and a wink.

Izuku just groans.

The rest of the teams shake out easily afterward.

The Landslide Zone: Shishida, Tetsutetsu, and Monoma.

The Flood Zone: Honenuki, Kaibara, and Tsunotori.

The Ruins Zone: Tokage, Fukidashi, and Shouda.

The Downpour Zone: Rin, Shiozaki, and Kamakiri.

And the Mountain Zone: Kendou, Tsuburaba, and Yanagi.

Once it's all decided, Thirteen claps their gauntlets together. “Now that your teams are decided, everybody please make your way to your selected disaster scenario! The maps are there if you require them. We'll be monitoring everyone's progress – if anything goes downhill, we can dispatch assistance immediately.”

“Do your best, everyone. Don't forget about your teammates,” Vlad-sensei says. “You're all here to help each other.”

“We, er...we believe in you!” All Might shouts, keeping his fumbling to a minimum. He looks a little put-out, actually.

I'll do it, All Might, Izuku thinks to himself. I'll make you proud of me.

Once again, he steels himself as he and his two partners cut across the courtyard to their station. Whatever happens next, he'll have to face it and come out on top again.

For All Might.

Chapter Text

The first thing that they all feel is heat, the instant that the red steel door to the Conflagration Dome opens into darkness. The air outside the dome only grows hotter by a few degrees, but the air turns dry and sweltering regardless, a promise of far worse to be met within.

Kodai leads the charge inside, and Kuroiro gives Izuku a firm smack in the small of his back, sending him tumbling forward as the black-robed boy takes up the rear. The door closes and seals itself behind them once all three have passed through.

With nowhere for the hot air to escape, the inside of the dome feels like an oven. The heat isn't just blistering, but permeating, sinking through the trio's costumes and inward to their bones.

“Oh, geez,” Izuku pants, already breathing heavier. He feels sweat gluing the inside of his costume to his skin. “It's like a summer heat wave in here.”

“Yeah, I definitely overdressed for this,” Kuroiro grimaces, tugging on the collar of his cloak. He's decked out from head to toe in black, his costume designed to seem menacing and intimidating. In an environment like this, however, it's little more than a heat sink wrapped all around his body.

“That was your choice,” Kodai adds briskly, resetting her hat after wiping the sweat off her face. “Let's go. Standing around won't help.”

Their eyes adjust quickly to the darkness, undoubtedly aided by the red glow cast by the surrounding flames. A city on fire sprawls out before them, with tall buildings packed into every inch that the dome could provide, before being made to burn. Flames flicker and dance at every level, and the largest fires spread upward and across the skyline like suns brought down to the earth and lingering far too close.

As the trio sets off down the street into the blazing city, Izuku looks around for something that indicates the beginning of their assignment. “Hey, Thirteen-sensei said that we'd receive further instruction when we got here, didn't they?” He asks. “I don't see anything like that.” Through the rippling air, all he can see is more fire.

“Maybe they're just screwing with us,” Kuroiro suggests. His pearly-white and mischievous grin cuts across the pitch of his face. “Make us figure it out ourselves. Hell, maybe they just wanna see how long we hold out. Sounds like something I'd do.”

“Knock it off,” Kodai says, without breaking her stride or looking back. “If they said they would tell us more here, then that's what they'll do. Don't say that they wouldn't.”

Kuroiro's lips curl in annoyance, before straightening out even wider. “Oh, wouldn't they?” He says, his voice teasing and saccharine. “This school is supposed to be the fast track to stardom, isn't it? They're always telling us to go 'Plus Ultra', aren't they?” Somehow, his air quotes convey a feeling of mockery. “Why wouldn't they toss us to the wolves and make us fight our way out? Weed out the plebes so that the whiz kids can shine on like crazy diamonds? Sure sounds like something a prestigious organization would pull to raise the bottom line, doesn't it?”

Izuku doesn't even know what to say to that. That's not just an insult to U.A. and all of its graduates, it's heresy.

Kodai finally stops and turns around. “Are you done?” she snaps back. “You're not woke. You're not enlightened or an oracle, you're just a jackass who thinks he's smart enough to know better than everyone else.” Her usually neutral face is alight with indignance; it's the most that Izuku has seen from her so far. “No one wants to hear your crackpot theories, so shut the hell up. We have a job to do.”

Izuku looks from her to Kuroiro, gauging his reaction. He's shocked when, far from being perturbed, the boy cackles and smirks. “Hey, can't blame a guy for having fun,” he says. “I'm just trying to keep things interesting. Come on, you've thought of it too. All the skeletons a place like this could bury.” Kuroiro rubs his hands together. “All the big name Pros with stuff to hide. Hell, I bet All Might could fill a book with everything he's-”

“Knock it off!”

Kuroiro jolts backward slightly as Izuku shouts. Even Kodai looks taken aback. They watch him with uncertain stares in case he yells again.

Honestly, Izuku doesn't know what he'll say either. He just...he couldn't stand hearing Kuroiro talking about U.A. – about All Might – that way, like it was the most normal thing to him. Like he cared more about entertaining himself than about the people he was putting down.

He feels his chest trembling and his hands clench into fists. He doesn't expect to throw any punches, lest he face his teachers' wrath, but he can't bring himself to calm down.

Thankfully, the standoff is broken by a cry of “Help me!” further down the road. Everyone turns to see what looks like a sharply dressed yet disheveled man stumbling stiffly toward them.

Kuroiro recoils. “Shit, is that a real person?!” His widened eyes light up the top half of his face.

“I think it's a robot,” Izuku hears himself reply. “It's not moving like a panicking person would, it's too stiff.”

“How do you...?” Kodai starts to ask before cutting herself off as the man comes closer.

“Please help me!” The man shouts again, not even sounding winded, before stopping abruptly in front of the three students. From this distance, its nature as a robot is much more clear; Izuku can see the inorganic glass eyes set in its too shiny face, with a head of artificial-looking hair on top.

It's just a little too close to human for comfort.

Kodai steps forward, trying to be professional. “Excuse me, sir, what's the matter?” She asks.

“Please help me!” The robot man repeats. “I've lost my children! You have to find them! There are thr—you have to—please help-hel-help-heeeeee...”

The robot stutters and jerks around, finally petering out and slumping over still.

“Oh, well then...” Kuroiro idles off, joining his teammates in staring at the now-lifeless husk.

A loud beep echoes through the dome, and a new voice speaks, broadcasted from overhead. “Sorry, Team Conflagration. I'm still testing the robots for that zone to make sure they can withstand the environment,” Thirteen says, their voice magnified to echo through the city. “That's on me, it seems I, uh, still have some work to do.”

They recover quickly from their sheepishness and clear their throat. “In the absence of your planned instruction, allow me to explain. That robot is meant to simulate a businessman and father. He was separated from his children, and now they're all scattered throughout this burning city. Once the exercise begins, they'll all start crying for help, and your mission here is to track all three of them down and return them to...well, their father is broken, so let's say you should find them all and regroup.”

“You'll be graded based on how quickly you locate and save each of the children in distress,”  Vlad-sensei adds. “As well as your ability to coordinate your efforts and perform each rescue effectively.”

He puts emphasis on the last word, and after a moment adds, “So no more fighting, all of you.”

“That should be sufficient to get you started,” Thirteen chimes in once more. “Once the exercise is complete, you'll receive instructions on how to leave and return to everyone else who's finished. Best of luck, you three!”

Thirteen's voice cuts out, leaving Izuku, Kuroiro, and Kodai on their own amid the burning cityscape.

Izuku looks back and forth between his partners. “So, uh, how should we do this?” He asks. If they don't know the locations of the children – or whatever Thirteen prepared as a stand-in – then splitting up would help them find their initial locations much faster.

On the other hand, staying together would increase their ability to retrieve the children once they were found, and it would make regrouping at the end easier as well. They hadn't received any special means of keeping in contact; no radios or flares to mark their positions.

It makes sense. Heroes don't always have ready means of sharing information, especially in a sudden crisis like this one.

“Hey, where're you going?” Kuroiro's voice shakes Izuku out of his planning, and he looks up in time to see Kodai walking away. “C'mon, you can't still be mad about earlier. Don't be like that.”

Kodai stops, but keeps her back toward him and Izuku. “This will take less time on my own,” she says. “Find yours and meet me back here.”

“Kodai, wait!” Izuku calls out as she jogs farther down the street. “Vlad-sensei said to work together! We can't-”

“Don't bother. She'll do whatever she wants, the freaking ice queen,” Kuroiro grunts, turning dismissively away from Kodai's fleeting form. “Let's roll. Those kids aren't getting less well done, and neither are we.” He stalks into a nearby alleyway and steps straight into the shadowed wall.

Izuku follows him with a sense of reluctance. He really doesn't think that leaving Kodai on her own is the best idea, but neither she nor Kuroiro seem willing to put up with one another. He certainly doesn't know how to be a moderator for them.

Kuroiro sticks his face out of the wall as Izuku draws near. The whiteness of his eyes and teeth are a stark contrast to the shadows surrounding him. “Okay, what's the plan?” He asks Izuku.

“Oh! Uh...” Izuku's mind stalls out for a moment. “Well, we need to find those kids. Thirteen-sensei said that they'd be crying for help, so we need to keep our ears open.”

“Listen for the screaming, huh? I can do that,” Kuroiro replies. Suddenly, his face sinks back into the wall, leaving nothing but rough stone.

Izuku is about to call out for his teammate when he hears sounds of exertion above him. He looks up in time to see Kuroiro emerged knees-up from the wall, clinging to the side of the flat roof for a moment, before he pulls his lower legs out and tumbles onto the rooftop overhead.

The pitch-skinned boy peeks over the edge at Izuku. “You go low, I'll go high! Shout to me if you hear anything!” He calls down.

“Okay!” Izuku calls back. Feeling emboldened, he leaves the alleyway and runs down the next street over, confident that Kuroiro is with him from above now.

#

Kan groans and falls back into his chair. “And now they've all gone their separate ways,” he says, rubbing the frustration he feels into his face. “Wonderful.”

“I'd expected that Kuroiro and Midoriya would at least make sure they were going the same way,” Thirteen agrees, watching the two boys on the screen travel further and further away from each other, Midoriya on the ground and Kuroiro across the building tops that were close enough by. “And Kodai is already so far away...”

“There's always one,” Kan groans into his hands. “Always one team that has to make things worse for themselves.” Even if they find their targets on their own, it's going to be exponentially harder for them to retrieve them, and then they still need to find each other and finish the exercise. None of their Quirks are particularly good for drawing attention, save for Midoriya's – and Kan would rather he not injure himself further if he can help it.

It's probably a good thing, on one hand, to identify these willful personalities and gain a sense for their interactions early in the year. Kodai clearly doesn't suffer fools, and Kuroiro...Kan tries not to think about handling everything the boy had said. It was contemptible in a way that a Hero can't be, how he'd prodded and baited Kodai into a fight for the sake of entertainment.

And Midoriya clearly has no experience in moderating personalities such as these, at least not while they're clashing.

“Well, isn't it premature to dismiss them so quickly?” All Might – or just Yagi, for now – asks from his place behind Kan, sweating as he watches the screen. Gaunt and mirthless as he is now, the fear in his eyes is far more visible to Kan than it would normally be.

It's been something of a...difficult process for Kan to fully accept the truth behind All Might's well-being. He's never considered himself a fan of the man like Cementoss, nor does he view the Symbol of Peace with level disdain as Aizawa does; All Might has always been something of a background element for Kan, rarely crossing his path directly but making his deeds known through his effects on society. Certainly, the Blood Hero admires all the good that the Number One Hero has done for his country, but making his acquaintance has never been a priority.

Still, Principal Nedzu hadn't given the choice to Kan or anyone else at U.A. It hasn't been a month since the rodent had called everyone into his office and allowed Yagi to present himself (“A stipulation of his recruitment to this institution!”) and Kan's main thoughts have been less about this newly revealed skeleton for U.A.'s closet – two, if one counted Yagi himself – and more about what exactly will happen when the truth goes public.

All Might, for all his virtues and faults alike, has been an unparalleled deterrent to crime all across the nation. What will happen when every criminal in Japan learns that their boogeyman grows weaker every day, that he has only months left until he is the Symbol of Peace no more?

It chills Kan's blood to think of the world that his students might inherit.

“It still isn't a good look for them,” Thirteen replies to Yagi in Kan's place. “Not when the other groups are at least making some effort to coordinate their movements.” They tap some buttons on the console, pulling up images from the other environmental zones of the USJ...

#

Meanwhile, in the Flood Zone...

Juzo tucks the final crate he'd been sent to retrieve under one arm and flips backward until the surface of the bay shimmers about fifty feet above him, still visible through the depths. He pushes off the large, smooth stone beneath him and swims upward in powerful strokes.

He ascends slowly, allowing himself to cope with the pressure changes, and tosses the crate onto the floating platform with the other two as he brakes the surface.

“Juzo!” The voice of Tsunotori meets his ears as the horse-themed girl peers over the edge of the platform. She reaches out a hand, which he gladly takes, and pulls him aboard. “Wow, that was super fast! I didn't think you'd finish so soon!”

She beams, unperturbed by the dark, blank surface of Juzo's mask. He'd requested it be opaque to avoid frightening anybody with his skull-like face.

“I've had lots of swimming practice,” Juzo replies in steady English, knowing that Tsunotori will converse more easily that way. “How are you and Kaibara doing up here?”

Judging by the four occupied lifeboats tied off at different corners of the hexagonal platform, they're handling themselves nicely.

“Pretty good!” Tsunotori confirms, switching to English herself with a grateful smile. She points toward the fake ship being “evacuated” some meters away. Two more lifeboats, each carrying their own passengers, float near the boat. “Sen's making sure there's no one else on board. Wanna help me get the last two?”

Juzo shakes his head. “You'd handle this better anyway, you're much faster than me. I'll keep everyone safe here.”

She nods. “We'll be right back, Juzo! This is a lot of fun!”

Tsunotori turns toward the boat and focuses; her two horns detach from the top of her skull, falling backward before catching themselves in midair and shifting to underneath Tsunotori's arms. She tucks herself around them both, then pulls herself across the water, cheering all the way across.

As she draws near the lifeboats, Kaibara appears on the deck and shouts belligerently down to her – some kind of challenge, probably. He scrambles down the ladder on the side of the ship and drops halfway down into the water. By the time he surfaces, he's already in motion, swimming in clumsy strokes toward one of the lifeboats.

Kaibara and Tsunotori tie one of the ropes on each lifeboat to their costumes, then race across the water back toward the platform; Tsunotori allows her horns to carry her back, while Kaibara's arms spin at the shoulder like propellers driving him forward.

Not the most efficient end to their mission, nor the most responsible, but given the timely way they've done everything else, perhaps they've earned a bit of enjoyment along the way.

#

Meanwhile, in the Ruins Zone...

Shouda checks the tracker on his gauntlet, confirming that the two blinking icons were coming back his way. Before he and his two teammates separated, he'd given his new micro-trackers a try and embedded them inside Tokage and Fukidashi's costumes with a gentle punch each. He has to admit, they make monitoring their progress a lot simpler.

He's giving his rescued child robot one last checkup (they'd all wandered into the old city and gotten lost, according to the old man on the edge of town) when a pair of hands clamp down on his shoulders with a loud “YEARGH!”

Shouda yowls in dismay and whips around in a fighting stance, briefly confused when he sees no one behind him. Then he spots the hands and mouth floating just above him, and it all makes sense.

“T-Tokage!” He says, dropping his stance and brushing his shoulders. “Don't scare me like that! I thought they'd brought a Villain into this!”

Tokage's disembodied mouth laughs. “Aw, it's fine! I wouldn't leave my sweet little teammate alone if there was any real danger!” Her right hand comes down and tousles Shouda's hair, while her left hand makes a finger gun and points it down the road to Shouda's right.

He turns to see Tokage strolling down the street with a raised arm in greeting, while another child robot clutches her legging and follows next to her. Suddenly, her disembodied parts fly back to her, and she catches her hands on each stump before looking away and turning her face mask down to slot her mouth back into her jaw.

She turns back fully intact with a smile. “So how'd you shake out? Any bumps or bruises need fixing?”

“No, I'm fine,” Shouda says. “I had to climb a billboard to get to my robot, but it wasn't hard.”

“Oh, cool! I wish I got something like that. Mine was just hanging out in a department store. Grabbed it and went.”

While the two speak, their child robots run toward each other with high-pitched giggles, then hurry together to the nearby playground. It looks horribly rusted and broken down, but they don't seem to care.

“So...where's Fukidashi? Let's wrap this up and bounce,” Tokage asks.

Shouda checks his tracker. Tokage's blinking light is right next to his own, but Fukidashi...

“Huh, that's weird,” Shouda mumbles half to himself. He holds out his gauntlet so Tokage can see the screen. “He's stopped moving. He was on his way over at the same time you were, and he's not even that far away.” Maybe two hundred meters. Shouda's shocked they haven't seen him yet.

“I'm sure it's nothing,” Tokage waves it away. “I mean, you saw those inkpots on his feet, right? He probably just got them caught up on something. Give him a few, and then we'll-”

KyaaaAAAAAAA...

They both jolt upward as a long, droning sound echoes from across the ruined city. Even diluted by its rebounds through the buildings, the two still hear it clear as day. The noise rises to a fever pitch and hangs there for several seconds, then slowly dies back down.

“What was that? Some kind of siren?” Shouda asks. He looks in the direction that the noise had arrived from, but the wall of buildings blocks his view. “Do you think they're giving us something new to deal with?”

Tokage bites her lip. “Wouldn't surprise me. We're in the home stretch, right?” Her face hardens into a serious expression. “I'll go take a look.”

Rather than running down the road as Shouda expects, she reaches up to her face and plucks out one of her eyes and everything around it, then hurls it down the street. The missing body part catches itself in midair and continues flying into the distance, ascending past the buildings.

Still unable to stomach watching Tokage fall to literal pieces, Shouda looks back down at his radar. Fukidashi's tracker is still where it had been minutes ago. He hasn't moved in the slightest.

A chill runs down his spine when, after a moment of spatial considerations, Shouda realizes that the radar is pointing them straight in the direction of the noise.

Suddenly, as though to confirm, the noise starts up once again.

“I found him,” Tokage says, all traces of humor gone. “Looks like a building crumbled around him and trapped him. He's making screaming sounds with his Quirk and shooting them into the air like an alarm.”

As the noise rises slowly back to its apex, hanging on the highest tone and sinking back down again, it suddenly sounds exactly like a scream – one stretched out as long as possible.

Shouda's stomach twists, and he forces himself to stay calm. This isn't ideal, having to handle a sudden crisis like this one, but that's part and parcel of being a Hero, isn't it? Between Tokage's eye and his radar, they know exactly where they need to be.

“We can't both go. We need to keep an eye on the kids, remember?” Shouda realizes abruptly. He bites his lip. Being able to move as a duo would give them more options, but Thirteen's robot had been clear when outlining the rules. One of them has to stay with the robot children as they play.

Tokage frowns...and then smacks her fist into her open palm. “I got it!” She exclaims.

And then her other eye pops out of her head. Shouda strangles a yelp enough to hear her say, “I'll keep my other eye on these kids while we go save Fukidashi together! We can do it all!”

“Um, I'm not sure that's what they meant by 'keep an eye on them'.”

“It's fine! A few points off is worth saving somebody, right?” Tokage asks. Her quirky smile, when positioned underneath two empty eyeholes, looka far more intimidating than usual. Still, Shouda can't deny her point. Their classmate – and his rescuee – needs help, and they are the most hopeful of Heroes. Shouda doubts he'd forgive himself if he refused.

“Okay, okay,” he repeats, building up confidence. “But you're out of eyes, Tokage. Can you watch where you're going?”

“Not at all. But I don't have to with you around!” She turns away from Shouda and points back over her shoulder. “Climb on my shoulders, and tell me where to go! I'll pop my other eye back in once we get there.”

With a minimum of reticence, Shouda climbs onto Tokage and clings to her back, and they're off as Fukidashi's third scream begins to rise throughout the ruins.

#

Meanwhile, in the Downpour Zone...

As much as Shiozaki enjoyed witnessing the rainfall – as a human and a plant-based Quirk wielder, how could she not? – it was far less enjoyable when she was in the middle of what could easily be considered a small tropical storm, anchored down only by the vines sprouting from her scalp.

Still, she clutched her hands and endured the punishing waters, determined to defend the bulwarks set up in a crude yet functional shelter against the flood. With luck, Rin and Kamakiri would return quickly, bringing the stranded refugees to safety.

Although she'd been reluctant to entrust such an important task to her offensively-minded compatriots, Shiozaki reminded herself that they had decided to brave the treacherous cityscape of their own accord, not content to remain behind the relative safety of the surrounding ramparts. Such virtuous action was worthy of some level of faith.

Besides, she thought as her vines burst from below the asphalt street to brace two of the walls against the rising tides, the reach and stability that she possessed deemed her the most appropriate for this task regardless.

Once the pressure upon the bulwarks decreased, Shiozaki beckoned her vines underground once more. At the same time, she heard a voice over the howling wind and rain, just beyond another of the walls around her. “Hey, Shiozaki! I got one!” The voice called to her.

She turned toward the voice's origin, as the costumed form of Hiryu Rin hauled himself over the chest-high barricade, clutching something underneath his arm. He drew near, allowing Shiozaki to see more clearly the blank metal doll that represented a person to rescue. If Rin wasn't struggling with it, then it must have weighed little.

Rin knelt down and gently settled his prize onto the ground. “Looks like you've got everything under control here, Shiozaki. Good work,” he said. He glanced around, his mouth turning into an expression of dismay. “Only one so far, huh? Kamakiri hasn't been back yet?”

“No, he hasn't,” Shiozaki said. Speaking to Rin was drawing her focus from the barricades somewhat, but she wouldn't allow herself to stoop to rudeness. “I'm worried about him, I admit. He seems to be a very wrathful and impatient person. If he's injured himself, then I'm not sure how he'll fare in these conditions.”

It wasn't very noble to speak of her comrades in such a manner, especially behind their backs; however, she'd beheld his performances during the fitness exams, and so couldn't keep from worrying.

“I think he's got too much spite to stop for anything,” Rin replied. “I'm more worried about him wearing himself out and getting stuck somewhere.”

That, Shiozaki had to admit, seemed like an equally viable outcome.

Rin opened his mouth to speak once more, when something struck the ground inside the perimeter with a loud crack. Shiozaki and Rin leaped in fright, then stopped and stared at the twisted metal thing that had smashed against the pavement. “Shit! What the hell is that?” Rin cursed.

Shiozaki pursed her lips and focused upon the shattered object. The vaguely humanoid shattered object, with a torso and limbs that had been flung all throughout the sheltered area. “I think it's...one of the rescue dummies,” she said. “But how on Earth...?”

“There's your fucking safe zone!” Somebody shouted from high above. The two students looked toward the heavens, in search of whomever had shouted down to them. (Likely no God that Shiozaki knew.)

Rin spotted him first – Kamakiri, standing atop one of the nearby buildings, arms folded as the wind swept his tattered costume about. “Hey, you two! You're welcome!” He shouted once more. “Good fucking riddance!”

And then, just as suddenly, he turned and left.

“...I, um, I guess that's two?” Rin finally said.

“At this point, I guess it doesn't really matter,” Shiozaki admitted. She frowned. “Vlad-sensei isn't going to look kindly upon this.”

Rin stood up straighter. “Oh, you're right! I gotta get going, before he finds the last one and wastes more points. You still got this?”

Shiozaki nodded, and then Rin was off. He vaulted back over the barricade, unencumbered this time, and waded as quickly as he could through the flooded streets.

#

Meanwhile, in the Mountain Zone...

“Are you all right?” Kendou called down into the crevasse.

Tsuburaba groaned as he rolled into a crouch, resting on the disc-shaped platform that he'd breathed out to break his fall. “Yeah, I'm living,” he shouted back up. “Shoulder's killing me right now, though.”

“I told you not to jump in before we had a plan,” Kendou scolded him. She sighed; passing this assignment was important, but more so was the well-being of her partners. “I don't suppose you can see anyone who needs rescuing?”

Kendou bent over the edge as far as she deemed safe in search for the people 'stranded' on the mountainside – there were three, if the mock hiker at the mouth of the area was correct. She felt a hand on her shoulder keeping her steady.

“We are dependent upon your guidance in this crucial endeavor,” Yanagi said, utterly straight-faced as far as Kendou could tell. “It would be regrettable if you came to injury.”

Kendou gave the other girl a smile. She had some...unusual classmates to contend with, but knowing that their intentions were good was a relief.

“Hey, Kendou!” Tsuburaba shouted. “I don't see anything! Just a ton of rocks that could break me in half and kill me if I fell.”

“You required such a duration to comprehend all that?” Yanagi mused. “Truly a revolutionary mind.”

“Oh, shut up! I was looking around for people to save! You try it sometime!”

“Both of you, it's fine,” Kendou cut in. “Yanagi, get ready to join him down there. Tsuburaba, don't strain your shoulder too hard. You're the one making our lifts. We'll need them thick.”

He snickered. “Don't worry, everything I make is-”

“Just do it!”

“Okay, geez. You got it,” Tsuburaba grumbled. He raised his head toward the cliff's edge and inhaled deep. After a second spent holding it, he forced all of the air outward and upward in a mighty exhale. The air was invisible to the naked eye, save for some dust that had been caught in the breath, but Tsuburaba shaped it into a wide circular platform that was a couple of inches thick, knowing that it would form however he wanted.

“Ready for launch!” He called once it was complete. “Grab it, Yanagi!”

“V-very well,” she fumbled anxiously, peering over the edge in hope of finding her target before she, God forbid, leaped to her death.

Kendou noticed her bouncing on the balls of her feet and placed her own hand on Yanagi's arm. “Hey, you can do it. Just reach out and grab it like we practiced,” she said with a warm and gentle smile.

After a moment and a few deep breaths, Yanagi untensed herself. She reached upward and spread her arms wide, splaying her fingers like a puppeteer as she wiggled her hands back and forth. Once she felt the invisible platform within her influence, she reached out toward it with her mind and tugged it up and onto the cliff.

She felt for the disc of solid air with her hand, and she climbed onto it gingerly, dropping to one knee and remaining coiled in case it couldn't support her weight.

Thankfully, it held her just fine.

“Ready to get down there?” Kendou asked.

Yanagi gave a slight nod. “As prepared as possible,” she confirmed. Slowly, she and her invisible platform levitated out over the depths and hovered downward toward Tsuburaba.

Everything was going as planned, Kendou reflected with satisfaction. They'd reasoned at the beginning that their rescue targets wouldn't likely be in easily accessed areas; this being a mountain range setting, being able to move vertically would come in handy. Unfortunately, none of the three were skilled in climbing – even Kendou's Quirk, while helpful for getting a solid grip, wouldn't service them for long periods.

It was Tsuburaba, shockingly, who'd hit upon having Yanagi move his platforms around while people rode on them. She could only move things that were less than a human's weight, she'd said, but the air platforms themselves were significantly lighter. They'd practiced the maneuver on solid ground, and once it worked well they decided to put it into action.

Kendou would remain on earth but close by, while the other two floated lower or higher as needed. It wasn't that different from using a rescue stretcher.

As long as Tsuburaba and Yanagi could remain civil with each other, there was no reason this wouldn't be a solid first exercise for them all around, and Kendou appreciated that very much.

#

Meanwhile, in the Landslide Zone...

“Hurry up already!”

Tetsutetsu was sick of waiting. He and Shishida'd gotten to the bottom of the slope in no time – he'd gone metal and tumbled down without a scratch while the beast of a guy leaped all the way down in seconds.

That just left the copycat, slowly sliding down the hill from one rocky safe spot to another like they weren't obviously on a time limit. That guy picked the wrong kind of suit for this – an actual suit, for crying out loud.

Once the copycat finally reached the bottom, Tetsutetsu was on him. “Hey, you got balls keeping us waiting for you, copycat! We've been standing here doing nothing while everyone else is getting a move on! Our grade's gonna be in the toilet if we finish last!”

“Sir Tetsutetsu, I think that's uncalled for,” Shishida said. “Sir Monoma had to be cautious if he didn't have a quick way down like you or I.”

The blonde gave them both a smile, the kind with an edge. “There wouldn't have been a need for caution at all if either of you had let me borrow your Quirk,” he said. “But even then, we would have begun with a major disadvantage.”

Before Tetsutetsu could ask what the hell that meant, the copycat held up a black handheld radio. “I found this on the way down, wedged in some rubble. It's in too good a condition to have been left behind, so it was clearly put here for us to locate.”

He flicked it on, and a bunch of static came through the radio. “Try tuning it,” Shishida said after a moment of straight noise.

The copycat squeezed the dial and frowned. “I can't. This dial isn't real, it doesn't turn.”

Now Tetsutetsu was the one frowning. “What're you talking about? Just twist it harder! Give it,” he said, taking the remote for himself.

Suddenly, Shishida looked up. “I heard something,” he said. “Right as Sir Tetsutetsu pulled the radio away.” They all looked back down at it, but it was still just static.

“You sure?” Tetsutetsu asked. “Doesn't sound like anything to me.”

“Please, trust me. My hearing is quite sensitive.” Shishida cringed. “Although that static is most unpleasant. Let's keep moving-”

“Try pointing it around,” the copycat cut in. “The antenna might have picked up something. Perhaps it works like a compass.”

“Sure,” Tetsutetsu grunted, turning away from the slope toward the rest of the buildings and sweeping the radio across the area.

“Slow down,” the copycat said.

Tetsutetsu grit his teeth but did that. He'd almost finished scanning, ready to write this off as a waste of time, when his arm reached ten o'clock and the static changed a bit.

“There's something playing under the static,” Shishida said. “We must need to draw closer for the signal to grow stronger.”

“An orienteering test, then.” The copycat looked smug. “That's more creative than I'd expected. They're making us work to find our lost hikers.”

Tetsutetsu looked down the antenna toward the ridges where the signal was coming from, which swung upward to block whatever was on the other side. “So what, are we climbing or going around?” he asked.

“I can reach the top most quickly, and then relay information down to you both,” Shishida volunteered.

“That works for me. Shall we?” The copycat strolled toward the ridges, with Shishida in tow.

Tetsutetsu glared as the blonde walked past him. Sure, they were supposed to be a team and all, but...he didn't trust that guy. He always got the feeling that he was looking down on him, on everyone in class. Like everyone was a lizard in a terrarium, dumb and only there to be watched.

Joke was on him, Tetsutetsu thought as he followed behind his teammates. The copycat wasn't the only one who could watch people.

#

“Well, the rest of the teams are performing decently,” Thirteen says. “The Flood and Mountain Zone trios in particular are showing remarkable teamwork and efficiency. I'm impressed with how well they've multiplied their ability through coordination.”

Kan lets out a proud chuff. “That's Honenuki and Kendou for you. Each of them provides a remarkable base to build on with the others.” He's especially pleased with how Yanagi and Tsuburaba have combined their Quirks under Kendou's guidance. It's rare that he ends up with a leader who can unite their fellows so thoroughly, but they're always welcome in his class.

“Hey, that kid who threw the dummy from the rooftop, Kamakiri?” Yagi asks. “That can't warrant a passing grade, can it? You wouldn't throw a person down to the road.”

“I believe he intends to pass by the letter of his instruction and not the spirit,” Thirteen sighs. “He can get away with it now because they're not handling real people, but it's something he'll need to overcome.”

“Same goes for Tokage,” Kan adds gruffly. “I understand her strategy of rescuing Fukidashi along with Shouda, but leaving those children behind without any supervision is irresponsible.”

He stands back up. “I need to get back to Komori and Bondo so we can start practicing. Thanks for having me, Thirteen.” Kan bows then turns and nods to Yagi before leaving the command center.

Yagi watches him leave before turning back to Thirteen. “So how do you think this is going to shake out? Seems like Young Honenuki and Kendou's teams are getting high marks, at least.”

Thirteen pauses before responding. “It's too early to say for sure. Missteps are hard to forgive during rescue operations, and frankly, there's still plenty of time left for them.”

“What about Young Midoriya's team? Have they made any progress?”

Thirteen presses the buttons on the panel and changes the feed back to the Conflagration Zone, just in time to watch Kodai flying through the air.

#

She'd heard a child's faint screaming in the office building three floors up, and known quickly that this is where she's meant to be. Yui looks up at the row of windows, each one blown out from the heat, then hurries over to the nearest light pole.

One touch with all five fingers, and it shrinks down where it stands until the horizontal crossbar overhead is within her reach. She taps her fingertips together with a mumbled “Release,” then grabs the crossbar as the light post soars upward to its original height.

Yui winces as the ascent stretches her shoulders upward, but she remains in a single piece. Now that the emptied windows are across from her, she swings back and forth on the bar, slowly building up momentum with each swing.

Once she's ready, she lets go and soars across the empty space. She'd aimed high, but even then her feet barely meet the windowsill; she tucks and rolls as her momentum continues forward, pushing her hard through the window and onto the floor.

Yui braces herself as she rolls painfully across the broken floor and comes to a hard stop against something on her back. She allows herself a few moments of pained indulgence before rising to her feet, resting against the desk that she rolled into for support. The cries for help are much closer now, easily cutting through the crackling flames.

“Hel-help me! I'm lo-lo-help me! Where-daddy-lost-lost!” The screams warble in the heat. Another broken one, then.

Yui sat down on the desk and tapped it with her hand, rising up toward the ceiling as the desk surged in size. It stopped with enough space overhead for her to stand and take stock of the floor from above the fire. The once-open space has been divided into sections by the raging fire, a little more deliberately than how normal fire would spread.

Through the rippling air, Yui spots the pleading child robot curled underneath a desk a couple rows over, past a wall of fire that would tower over her were she on the ground. Her usual frown toughens into something more focused as she makes her way over with cautious haste, continuing to use the desks as raised platforms over the flames.

Once Yui reaches her destination, she crouches down below the desk and pulls the 'child' out with one hand. She tries to ignore its burnt face and continuing garbled cries for help as she tucks it underneath her arm, instead hurrying toward the stairs. A bevy of touches to the rubble blocking her way shrinks it all, and Yui hurls herself into the stairwell with her cargo.

Yui reflects on her performance on the way down. Her entrance had been messy and inefficient – she's lucky she didn't hurt herself beyond the point of unfunctionality – and her movement, limited as it was in the office space, requires smoothing out. Ideally with fewer repeated jumps from high ledges.

Nonetheless, she retrieved what she came for in minimal time, and her means of escape is straightfoward from here. Yui thinks back to her teammates, one infuriating and the other ineffectual, and draws relief from the knowledge that she can operate well on her own in a professional setting.

That her teachings wouldn't be put to waste.

And then, in response to that sense of satisfaction, Yui turns to continue down past the second floor landing, and sees the stairs in front of her glowing red with tall, impassable flames the rest of the way down.

#

“Well, fuck me.”

Shihai leers down at the pavement far below like it'll make Midoriya suddenly run up and apologize for falling behind. It'd make everything a hell of a lot easier for him, that was for sure; Midoriya may have been kind of a wuss, but raw strength was raw strength no matter what.

When Midoriya doesn't show, Shihai has to accept that he's on his own. He groans. Sometimes appointing lackeys just doesn't pay off.

He listens for the sound of screaming, like Midoriya told him to. He's been listening for quite a few rooftops now, and there's not been a whisper of agony to reach his ears. Shihai's used to screaming – usually in distress, followed by a cry of rage in his direction – so if he hasn't heard anything, there's probably nothing around.

And of course, he's at the end of the block. Figures. Time to go down.

Shihai steps up onto the ledge overlooking the street and jumps off without hesitation.

His empty cloak is still heavy enough to fall without much fluttering about, and it smacks onto the sidewalk. Then, it suddenly stops being empty as Shihai exits the pitch black fabric and slips his limbs through the holes as he emerges. His back hurts as he stands up – he may have made that fall nonlethal, but it was still jarring. Being inside an object doesn't keep him from feeling anything.

Of course, he's keeping that element of his Quirk private – as well as its limitations on color. Be it from classmates, teachers, or friends, it's only smart to keep some cards up his sleeve.

Shihai tunes out his aching back as best he can and steps into the road, sinking into the dark asphalt. He's in there for all of a few seconds before the heat, even more sticky and sweltering than above ground, drives him back out. “Argh, damn it, damn it!” He growls, setting out helplessly on foot. Why couldn't Midoriya have been bothered to look up one time? They would've probably already found a damn kid by now, and Shihai could take it easier.

He runs a couple more blocks before he starts to make out the sound of crying. It's practically angel's song at this point. Shihai follows it desperately, his chest blooming with relief once he confirms that it's not only in his head.

The calls for help lead him to the side of a building against a ruined parking lot, a towering wall with a large and colorful mural painted across the bricks. Shihai looks up, ignoring the paint, and spots the ladder for the fire escape some ten feet above him.

A moment later, he realizes where the screams are coming from and curses once again. The kid robot's on the fire escape. He can't see it from the ground, so it must be higher up.

“Sssshhhiiit,” Shihai growls. He shakes his stiff neck and rubs the kinks out of it. Going up the wall's a no go; the parking lot's so open and the fires bright enough that the wall isn't in shadow, and there's not enough black in the mural for him to blend into either. God forbid he try entering the building through the doors – the smoke's so thick he'd probably choke even inside of something.

They couldn't make this so any Joe or Satou could grab a baby and head home, could they? Nooo, Heroes need to be showy – the spectacle's all that matters, right? Save some babies, take some pictures, stop a D-list bad guy here and there...no point in taking things seriously when you're having a good time.

Shihai shakes those thoughts away and looks back up toward the ladder with a grimace. It's too high up for him to jump to – he needs some sort of boost. He spots a nearby trash can and hauls it over, flipping it upside-down for a sort of platform. He climbs gingerly onto it, and once he's sure it won't collapse under him, Shihai stretches his arm toward the ladder; it's closer now, but still about a foot away from his hand.

Above him, the robot continues screaming. “Help, help, daddy-where's my-I'm scared! Please he-he-daddy-scar-”

“Shut up already!” Shihai snarls, sending a withering glare skyward. He grits his teeth and crouches slightly to jump, but one quick wobble sends that plan packing. If he can't grab the ladder and he can't jump toward it, then how can he extend his reach...?

The sweat soaking the inside of his thick black cloak gives him the answer; he slides it off his shoulders, savoring the relative coolness on his bare torso, and grabs it by the end of one sleeve. He spreads his legs as wide as he can on his makeshift lift, and then swings the cloak overhand like a fishing rod.

It slaps the ladder and falls back down. Shihai stubbornly yanks the cloak back and swings it again. After a few more tries, it wraps around the bottom rung of the ladder, and its former wearer grins and reaches for the other end dangling across the way.

When Shihai can't quite grip the rest of his cloak, he growls and slides his feet forward just a little farther – and that's enough to make the trashcan topple over. He lets out a cry and then reacts, leaping off the ball of his foot from his platform and vanishing into his dark cloak. The sudden addition of his weight – a fraction of it, due to his Quirk, but not a negligible amount – causes the cloak to slip from the ladder, and Shihai reacts again, leaping out of the cloak and getting a firm grip on one of the higher rungs with one hand.

He kicks with one foot to catch his cloak, but it falls to the ground. As difficult as Shihai knows this will be without it, he hauls himself up the ladder and onto the fire escape at last. Breathing heavily, he makes his way up the rickety metal stairs and finds his target on the third floor landing – a small, partially melted humanoid robot spouting fragmented cries for help.

Shihai ignores the robot as best he can while considering his options. He really doesn't like the thought of jumping back to the ground from any height, but he can't pull off another trick fall without his cloak. He could wrap up the robot with it to kill that bird as well. Is there anything else he can use?

...Well, there's that.

He kicks off his shoes and tosses them off the fire escape, and then – with a decent amount of reticence – pulls down his black trousers.

(At least he'll be giving the teachers a show.)

Shihai wraps the molten robot in his pants as fully as possible, then sits down on the railing with it tucked it under his arm and tumbles backward. As soon as he feels empty space claiming him, he disappears into his clothing and braces for impact.

At the same moment, a loud booming sound echoes through the Conflagration Zone. A few minutes later, it's followed by several more just like it.

#

Yui lands in the bush, just as she'd intended. The branches cut through her pant legs and draw an expression of pain from her, but the shrubbery absorbs the impact enough for her to step out with legs that continue to function. Once she's stumbled out into the street, she pulls the robot that she saved from her pocket – shrunken to the size of an action figure for easier carrying.

It still rambles its broken cries for help, which now sound tinny at its current size. Shrinking it at all was risky, considering that it's supposed to represent a real person in distress. Still, it hasn't been damaged further than it was when Yui found it; hopefully that fact will suffice for a passing grade.

Yui tucks the robot back into her pocket, dissatisfied with the results of her test. It had been pure luck that the second floor wasn't overtaken by flames once her escape down the stairs had been cut off. Pure chance that had allowed her to get to the blown out window, tuck her robot into her uniform, and jump from only ten feet above ground rather than a solid thirty.

That won't suffice once she's a real Hero. Mistakes like this are...forgivable for now, but they will cripple her in the real world. The system craves perfection – demands it. She's heard it all.

Yui strides down the road in the direction of the entrance to the Conflagration Zone. Thirteen was very clear that she and her teammates are required to regroup once everyone retrieves their child. Since they never settled upon a meeting place – stupid! – Yui figures that the safest and most obvious rendezvous point is the place where they'll go anyway once the exercise finishes. Besides, they already know where it is, as opposed to anywhere else in the area.

That's the plan, at least, before the explosions begin. The first large one gives Yui pause, makes her consider following it to see if her test has changed. It wouldn't surprise her if U.A. has an endgame scenario planned for this exercise, some enormous final obstacle for everyone to overcome.

Finally, she decides to ignore it and continue toward the entrance – the epicenter of whatever made that noise is out of her way, and she already has a plan to follow.

That initial blast of sound is joined by several more a few minutes later, each one following consecutively after the other with the span of about one additional minute between each of them. It's too deliberate a pattern to be random, so it's likely a signal.

The thought is finally enough to make Yui's focus waver. Doubt settles into the cracks; she has no proof that the two boys will think to join her at her decided location, but that signal – if it is a signal being broadcasted – is impossible to miss. If anything, they'd likely flock to it, like moths to an entirely different flame than the ones surrounding them. Perhaps that signal is the teachers' doing, and they've decided that they can't afford to be subtle about drawing the three students back together.

Yui closes her eyes and clenches her hands tightly in front of her, forcing her stress to bleed away. Once she's suitably calm, she runs deeper into the city yet again.

Along the way, a fourth burst of noise goes off. It's louder and closer than the ones before, and Yui uses it to correct her course, turning back and running one further block down the street. She turns the next corner and sees a figure bent over on the sidewalk several hundred feet down the road. Drawing near, it's an easily recognizable person.

It's Midoriya. He's crouched low to the ground, with a robot slung awkwardly over his back like he's struggling to hold it up. As Yui comes closer, she notices him clutching his right hand with gritted teeth – his fingers are all blue and purple and painful-looking.

“Well, now it's a party,” a familiar and aggravating voice says.

Yui and Midoriya look up at the same time to see Kuroiro slide out of the alleyway behind Midoriya as though the darkness formed him. “Got your invite, buddy. Looks like you banged yourself up sending it,” he says, still grinning that unworried grin.

There's a package in his hands, wrapped up in something colored deep black. “...Are those your pants?” Yui asks.

Kuroiro turns to her and his eyes light up. “Had to wrap the thing in something to take it with me. Wanna look?”

He pulls his cloak aside, and Yui catches a glimpse of pitch black skin and matching boxers before she turns away with a grimace. She opens her mouth to snap back but gets interrupted by a new voice.

“That's enough, you guys!” Thirteen's voice echoes from the top of the dome. “Um, great work completing your mission! Please leave the Conflagration Zone through the entrance with your robots in tow, and return to the plaza to receive your scores!”

At once, all the flames in the city cut off. The dome is cast into darkness before the yellow lines in the road light up in a clearly marked path.

Kuroiro huffs. “So that's it, huh? Well, it wasn't a total waste of time. Catch you guys at the front.” He disappears into the shadows once more.

Yui turns toward Midoriya as her eyes adjust to the darkness, allowing her to see him. “Can you get out of here all right?”

“Uh, yeah, I think so,” he says. He stands back up, moaning in pain as he fights to keep his robot steady with only one arm.

Looking at his swollen, discolored fingers, it strikes Yui; those explosions from earlier had been Midoriya. He must have channeled his Quirk through his fingers and used them to make those booming noises somehow. It must have been extremely painful, and all to draw his teammates toward himself. Had he known that they would find their targets by then, or was he trusting them to find him with what help he could provide?

She reaches out and touches Midoriya's robot, forcing it to shrink under her fingertips. Once it's small enough to fit on Midoriya's back, she pulls back, catching the soft and vulnerable way he stares at her.

“T-thanks, Kodai,” he mumbles.

Too kind. He's too kind. She doesn't like that, doesn't know what to say in the face of it.

“Call it thanks,” she replies. “Now come on, we need to go.”

She hurries away, but hangs back enough that the green-haired boy can stay behind her. Yui leads him back to the entrance of the Conflagration Zone, trying to evaluate where Midoriya falls in her assessment of her classmates. She'd considered him a waste of time before, with his skittish demeanor and utter lack of simple proficiency with his Quirk.

Now, honestly, she can't decide where to place him. She isn't used to that at all.

#

They pass, more or less, having accomplished everything they were told. That's the fact that Vlad-sensei opens with once Izuku and his teammates return to the plaza. From how many of their classmates are already back – enough for four trios worth – it seems like they're some of the last to finish.

Izuku doesn't see Monoma anywhere. He, Tetsutetsu, and Shishida were assigned to the Mountain Zone, right? Hopefully they're all okay.

“Midoriya.”

Vlad-sensei's gruff voice calls him back to the present with a mumbled apology. From the look on his face, their teacher seems displeased, although the expression is not without its kindness.

“Thirteen gave me a sufficiently detailed explanation of your first Rescue experience,” their teacher begins, uncrossing his arms and letting them hang down. “It seems your teamwork crumbled before your assignment even began.”

“Blame him for that,” Kodai mutters, pointing at Kuroiro next to her.

“Nuts to that. I was just entertaining myself before we got started,” Kuroiro, once again a pants-wearing member of society, snaps back. “She's the one who abandoned me and Midoriya-”

“I'm not blaming any of you individually,” Vlad-sensei smothers their smoldering argument – the note of suppressed irritation in his voice is something no one wants to poke at. “But it was irresponsible of all of you. In the real world, a dispute like that can easily end with someone dead, do you understand? Figure it out or set it aside, but you cannot let an argument with your partner affect your work to that degree.”

“Sorry, Sensei,” Izuku murmurs with a slight bow, joined by his teammates. It hurts to be scolded, but he's used to it. Used to teachers grouping him in with the troublemakers.

The fact that it's happening in U.A. of all places does add salt to the wound, though.

“That being said,” their teacher sighs, his fearsome face softening. “This was merely a simulation, and your first one at that. Furthermore, you all accomplished everything you were told to, so I can safely declare that you've passed your initial Rescue Training lesson.”

He allows his students to let that sink in. Izuku feels a little lighter – they passed. Even with his aching hand, with his hollow feelings of uselessness, it's a welcome surprise.

“Sensei?” Izuku asks. “Where's...where are Monoma, Tetsutetsu, and Shishida? Is everything okay?”

Vlad-sensei looks a bit surprised, as though he hadn't expected that concern. “They've hit a few holdups during their assignment,” he replies at last, remaining vague. “Things that will need working out, but they're nearly finished with their mission, as far as I'm aware.”

Izuku wonders if that has anything to do with how Monoma is getting along with the other two. Getting put with Tetsutetsu...Izuku couldn't imagine being paired with Kacchan for anything. He'd be deaf by the end of it, he was sure.

“Anyway, don't let yourselves get complacent with your performance today. You all have a long road ahead of you,” Vlad-sensei continues. He looks first at Izuku. “Midoriya, you deserve credit for trying to keep your team together at the start, but you did lose control of your emotions and I could tell that you were at a loss for how to proceed. Charisma is important for holding an impromptu team together, but keeping a level head is necessary as well. Try to keep an eye on that going forward, and don't let your feelings overrule you.”

Izuku can't fault that – his initial outburst interrupted Kodai and Kuroiro's fight, but he hadn't been able to smooth things over between them. He's never been good at saying the right thing, especially with Kacchan around, when nothing seemed to be the right thing. Maybe it would get easier around some new people. He hoped it would get easier.

“As for your actual rescue, Midoriya, I'm sure you know to keep an eye on your teammates going forward,” his teacher adds, with a slight, wry smile. “Kuroiro's ability to move quickly within shadows would have made reaching your target much easier within that alleyway. However, you did the best with what you had, and found a way to signal the other two as well. How is your hand?”

Izuku holds up his right hand, revealing swollen, discolored knuckles. “I tried bracing my fingers by putting power into the rest of my arm, but I don't think it worked, Sensei,” he says. He got the idea from Tetsutetsu, and how he reinforced past his shoulder to strengthen his entire arm. Izuku still isn't ready to empower his whole body, but he thought that one arm would make a good test.

Vlad-sensei crouches and gently studies Izuku's broken hand – Izuku braces for another scolding. However, The Blood Hero simply nods and rises. “I think it worked better than you realize,” he says. “Your fingers are sprained, but nothing looks broken.”

Izuku takes a moment to process that, then reflexively bends his fingers, ignoring his teacher's warnings. There's shooting pain down the tendons that makes him wince – but his jammed fingers do move. If they were broken, they wouldn't respond at all.

All the same, he feels like crying. It's another step, another something. The look of pride in Vlad-sensei's eyes doesn't hurt.

“That's all the critique I have for you, Midoriya. Go see Thirteen about your hand, then mingle with everyone until the Mountain team returns,” the Blood Hero says. He turns solemnly to Kodai and Kuroiro. “I have considerably more to say regarding the two of you.”

Izuku takes one look at his teammates' expressions of discomfort and hurries past Vlad-sensei, certain that there's nothing he can do for them.

At the infirmary tent, Thirteen applies some first aid and wraps his fingers in cold bandages to reduce the swelling. They tell Izuku to keep it elevated and see Recovery Girl if he feels the need, then he's sent on his way.

He returns to the plaza, where Kodai is speaking with Kendou and some of the other girls while Kuroiro drifts between everyone. Tsunotori spots him and quickly pulls him into a chat with a bunch of their classmates. It sounds like everyone has some good things to say, especially Bondo who confirms in his slow, low voice, that he and Komori managed to catch up in CPR to congratulations.

The growing fondness between members of each team is obvious. Even Kaibara, combative as he is, good-naturedly concedes his loss to Tsunotori in a...race of some sort? He challenges her again, and everyone laughs at her excitement for a rematch.

Unfortunately, Izuku doesn't have as much to say when Rin asks about his mission. “We kinda got, uh, split up early,” he admits lamely. “Kodai and Kuroiro went looking for their Rescue targets while I looked for mine. We didn't really meet again until the end.”

“Oh, so you were basically all on your own the whole time?” Shouda asks. “And you still took care of everything? That's pretty cool.”

Tsuburaba nods. “Yeah, I would've been dead in the water without my girls,” he says, clasping his hands behind his head. “Or, dead in a ravine, I guess.”

“Dude, you'd better hope Kendou and Yanagi don't hear you call them that,” Rin warns him.

“Nah, we're cool. It's a bonding thing, you know? Forged in a crucible and all that.”

Kaibara frowns. “Don't give 'em ideas, man...”

“Hey, we talkin' about our tests?” Tetsutetsu's brash voice makes everyone turn as he gruffly pushes his way into the group. “'Cuz I just got back and I gotta blow off some steam.”

“You failed?” Bondo asks.

The metallic boy waves his hand. “Nah, we passed, barely. Almost went over time 'cuz that copycat threw me and Shishida off our game.”

“The copycat has a name,” Monoma says, sliding in across from Izuku. “And it's not my fault you were too distracted to focus on the job at hand.”

Even from this distance, his usual smile looks very brittle.

“All right-”

“ATTENTION!”

A sudden bellow and a following gust of wind makes everyone brace themselves. (And a congratulatory note is slapped into Izuku's palm, to be noticed and appreciated later.) All Might skids to a quick stop next to Thirteen and Vlad-sensei, with the stairs at their backs. “Uh, apologies again, Vlad King! I'll, uh, just let you handle this.”

All Might sheepishly turns away from Class 1-B's irritated Homeroom teacher, who grits his teeth and steps forward. “All of you, good work today. I'm pleased to say that you all passed your first Rescue Training session.”

“You should all be proud of yourselves!” Thirteen says. “By learning to save lives, you've begun a noble undertaking. I look forward to seeing each of you grow even further from here.”

“Everyone, think about the critiques you received,” Vlad-sensei continues. “There's still a long road ahead for all of you, but I believe that you all have immense potential. It's up to you to reflect on your performances today, and decide how you wish to proceed. As Thirteen has told you thoroughly, what you've begun learning today will be a cornerstone of your growth.

“Now then, as I made a promise with Thirteen should you all pass...” He sighs. “...We're all going to Yoshinoya's for lunch.”

And Class 1-B explodes with delight. There will be time, of course, to ponder the events of today and the worries brought along with it. But for now, there's fast food beef bowls to crusade for.

(Even if Vlad-sensei dreads how much time it will take to work them off.)

Thirteen joins in with the cheers. After all, they have another session with Class 1-A tomorrow, and there's not a chance in Hell that Aizawa will being taking anyone out to lunch once the day is done.

Chapter Text

“And they haven't found any further evidence linking it to a culprit?” Kan asks.

“I'm afraid not,” Cementoss replies, stepping slightly away from Kan and his fervor. “Why not ask the Principal for more details? If anyone knows everything there is to know right now, it's him.”

Kan shakes his head. “His office is closed. I don't know when he'll be available again.” He clutches his morning thermos, feeling impotent. Some malicious figure had made an attempt on the school yesterday, and the press had found their way in during the havoc. True, everything had been sorted out (in large part, evidently, thanks to Class 1-A Co-Representative Shouji Mezou directing the student body), but it crushes Kan that he hadn't been there to oversee everything.

Where had he been? Eating cheap beef bowls? Shame on him. The only consolation was that his own students had been safely with him and Thirteen.

Cementoss sees Kan's distress and smiles helpfully. “Say, why not ask Hound Dog for clues? He's got a nose like a bloodhound, so maybe he picked up on something yesterday.”

“That's no good. I went to him first,” Kan scowls, downing more of the breakfast smoothie in his thermos. “He said that there were too many contradictory scents for him to identify anything. Honestly, he's not in the best mood this morning either. I didn't want to bother him.” If Kan feels shame at yesterday's failure, it's nothing compared to Ryou's current sullen rage; as guardian of the school grounds, he's chosen to hold the prior day's events above himself as a most personal failing.

It hurts Kan to see his dear friend whip himself so harshly, but Ryou was in no mood for consolation when Kan visited him earlier and Kan had no choice but to leave him be.

Kan slides open the door to the Administrations Office as they happen upon it, where an unkempt man with scraggly dark hair and clothes sits at a nearby desk. His eyes meet Kan's, and his face turns to disdain as Kan's expression becomes vigorous. “Ugh...it's too damn early to deal with you. Just leave me be,” says Aizawa Shouta, homeroom teacher of Class 1-A.

(Meanwhile, Cementoss slips away from them to finish his prep work at the other end of the room.)

“So! Thirteen told me that Class 1-A's Rescue Training starts today,” Kan begins, looming over Aizawa with an audacious grin upon his face. “I hope your students will follow my class's precedent and start the year with a passing grade!”

“I hope you'll take a hint this year and finally leave me alone,” Aizawa grunts, not looking his way. He writes in plain yet clean lettering upon the lines of what appears to be an action report for one of his students; his arm covers the top half of the paper to obscure their details. “These post-Battle Trial evaluations are enough to deal with right now, I don't need you and your ridiculous rivalry on top of that.”

Aizawa glowers as Kan glances closer at the paper before him and the thin stack of unfinished reports to the side. The evaluations have already been filled out by someone else, he notices, albeit with a modicum of detail on each one. “Wasn't it All Might's job to file these reports?” Kan asks, already suspecting the answer.

“It was supposed to be,” Aizawa says darkly. “If not for his disgraceful observations of my students. There are second-years in this school capable of taking more professional notes.” He overturns his current form onto a face-down stack of papers on the opposite side of the untouched ones, then grabs one of the remaining forms and continues his work. “It's only been four days, and already the idiot's making me do his work for him.”

Kan's mouth wrinkles in sympathy. It's necessary to keep careful documentation of every student's progression and potential issues, but filling out a whole class's worth of paperwork after every lesson remains one of Kan's least favorite aspects of the job.

Of course, sometimes the students don't make it much simpler.

Kan wanders over to the desk facing Aizawa's and settles into it. “So how did yesterday's Hero Training class go?” He asks. “Any trouble balancing groups with one missing student?”

The Erasing Hero gives him an even more irritated look. “I learned what I needed to know,” he replies, and refuses to elaborate.

Truly, Kan had asked in jest, but Aizawa's reaction makes sense given their long-standing feud over teaching styles. He doesn't expect to get much more out of Aizawa regarding his class, so instead he opens his mouth to ask-

“I don't know any more about the break-in than you do, Kan,” Aizawa stops him, glaring at him through apathetic eyes. “Just because you feel bad doesn't give you free reign to pester everyone else for details. Don't you have paperwork of your own to work on?”

Kan slumps back in his chair, effectively defused. “It's already finished. Thirteen was quite helpful,” he mumbles.

“Good for you.”

#

“Midoriya, wait up!”

Izuku stumbles and turns on his way out of the cafeteria, in time for Kendou to slide up from behind him. He and the orange-haired girl haven't exchanged many words in the few days since school began, so he wonders what she could possibly want from him.

“Oh! Hi, Kendou,” Izuku says as she falls into line next to him. “I-is everything okay?”

She gives him a warm smile. “Yeah, everything's fine! I just wanted to know what your plans are for the class rep election. Are you running?”

Izuku's eyes widen. “Oh, that. I, uh, I think I'd mess everything up if I was in charge,” he chuckles while rubbing the back of his head. “W-what about you? Are you—I mean, of course you are, you said so this morning, so...”

He trails off painfully.

If Kendou is bothered by this, she doesn't show it. She just nods firmly. “Yeah, I am. I was going around back at lunch to get a sense of how everyone's leaning. Seems like I have a lot of stiff competition,” she says with a frown.

Izuku can believe that – when Vlad-sensei announced the need for a class representative during homeroom today, almost everyone had leaped out of their desks to declare their interest. They'd each been given until the end of the day to make their decision, when the candidates would present themselves and be voted upon.

There's been an energy throughout classes today; one that's driving everyone to put their best foot forward in view of their class. Having never held an office before, or even been considered for the honor, Izuku can't imagine what everyone is thinking.

Kendou snaps from her troubled thoughts back to reality. “Anyway, do you know who you'll be voting for, Midoriya?” She asks, looking expectant but not unfriendly.

“I'm, um, I'm still thinking everybody over,” Izuku fumbles out. He's been asked the same question already by a few of the others, and the best he can make himself do is something vague but hopeful. It worries him a bit, maybe irrationally, that these people will turn on him if he outright denies them.

Kendou's smile doesn't waver. “Well, whoever you pick, I'm looking forward to getting to know you all better. I'm sure this will be good for all of us.”

She pulls ahead of Izuku and strides forward through the post-lunch crowds back to their classroom. Izuku can't help but feel touched that she gave him some personal attention.

(Even if the other voice in his head reminds him that she's been doing that with everyone today.)

Izuku files back into his classroom and returns to his desk as the remainder of the class trickles in after him. Everyone takes their seats as the fifth-period bell rings, and Ectoplasm stalks into the room with a lack of fanfare.

The Spectral Hero continues his lesson on integrals in a raspy voice, poking a slender arm from his trenchcoat to draw graphs on the chalkboard that give Class 1-B a collective headache in no time.

Izuku scribbles notes down, scrambling to keep up. He has just enough attention left over to hear some of his classmates muttering. It sounds like they're preoccupied already, what with preparing for the election at the end of the day.

Honestly, he can't envy them this time. He'd probably have a heart attack in front of everyone if he had to go up and speak to them.

It continues like this for a while, with Ectoplasm stopping briefly every now and then to ask the class for answers. Everyone seems to struggle a bit today, to Vlad-sensei's obvious displeasure.

And then, in the middle of describing another problem, Ectoplasm stops.

Suddenly everyone's eyes focus on the front of the room as the robed Hero's head twitches in surprise. At the same time, Vlad-sensei pulls a communicator out from his belt and holds it up to his ear.

For a moment, the two Pros are still as statues. Then Vlad-sensei's face lights up in alarm and Ectoplasm visibly stiffens within his trenchcoat.

Izuku's classmates break into confused mutterings – mutterings ended just as quickly once Vlad-sensei and Ectoplasm begin to move.

“Everyone, class is canceled,” Vlad-sensei barks, cutting across the room on Ectoplasm's heels. “We have an emergency to handle. Stay in your seats until we return.”

Everybody stares as Ectoplasm kicks the door open and hurries through. Kaibara begins to stand up. “Sensei, what's going-”

“I said STAY HERE!” The Blood Hero roars. Once Kaibara sinks meekly back down, Vlad-sensei rushes through the door and slides it shut with a heavy bang.

A click of a lock later, and Class 1-B is alone.

No one says anything for a while. No one can say anything, after that.

They do what they're told. Sit quietly and wait, all of them.

…

Eventally, finally, someone says something.

“W-what do you think is going on?” Fukidashi's voice shakes, devoid of energy or onomatopoeia.

“...An emergency?” Rin suggests helplessly.

Everyone falls silent again.

…

Kamakiri is tapping his foot on the floor in a quick, restless beat.

“Whatever's happening, they needed the teachers to handle it,” Komori says quietly. She bunches up her skirt in tiny fists. “Must be something really bad.”

“Even Vlad-sensei?” Shiozaki asks. “I can't imagine such an emergency where even he would leave his post.”

“I suppose there was always a chance for something such as this,” Shishida adds, nervously braiding his fingers together. “Whatever 'this' really is.”

Shiozaki hums in quiet acknowledgment and clasps her hands in prayer, resting her elbows on her desk. From one seat over, Tsuburaba watches her with concern.

…

“Hey, you guys don't think...” Shouda begins, gulping. “You don't think something's happening to the school, do you? Remember yesterday, how those reporters got in while we were at the USJ?” He purses his hands nervously in front of himself. “If they got in, who's to say something worse couldn't follow them?”

Izuku's stomach twists into knots as the thought sinks in. Days ago, he would have dismissed the idea, but they'd all been caught off guard to learn that those reporters had made their way into the school. Everything had been sorted out, but...

Well, there are far more deadly things in the world than reporters.

“Hey, don't say that,” Kaibara replies, trying to sound resolute despite his softly wavering voice. “You...you don't know that...”

But it's too late, as everyone else around the room considers the idea. The silent mood of the classroom rises into a nervous hum, stretching ever further toward snapping.

“Let's not panic and jump to conclusions,” Honenuki cuts through the buzzing with his eternally serene demeanor. “There are more security systems in place beyond the gates. If the situation warranted calling upon them, I'm sure we would have heard or felt something already.”

The skull-faced boy leans across his desk and pats Shouda on the shoulder; he comes down a little from his anxiety, looks more levelheaded with the moment passed.

“That...that's true. I didn't think of that,” Shouda admits. “Sorry, everybody.”

Everyone else mumbles quietly back.

…

“Hey, Fukidashi?” Tsunotori asks.

The bubble-headed boy turns in his seat. “Yeah?”

“You okay? You've been real quiet all day. I don't remember you shouting a single sound effect.”

Fukidashi sighs. “Throat's still really sore,” he says. “Yesterday I used my Quirk like kyaaaaa to call Tokage and Shouda, and I couldn't even talk then.”

“He was pretty much coughing up blood by the time we got to him,” Tokage adds solemnly. “Freaked us out but good.”

Shouda nods silently.

“...Wait a minute,” Kuroiro begins, “How the hell could Fukidashi cough blood? He has no goddamn mouth. It's stupid.”

Tokage flicked him in the back of the head. “Hey, don't be a dick. We're all weirdos here.”

“It kind of, uh, stained his speech bubble,” Shouda tries to explain. “Like little red spots where his mouth would be.”

A general noise of understanding pervades throughout the room.

And then Bondo asks, “But how do you eat?”

…

Kendou nods. “I see. So you absorb food through your speech bubble like a cell membrane and then swallow it like normal?” Kendou asks once Fukidashi finishes speaking.

“Uh...I guess?” The student in question responds. “To me it's always just felt like a pop, then a gulp awhile later. I don't really know how it works.”

“What about stuff that isn't food?” Tsuburaba chimes in. “Could you stick something else in your head and carry it around in there?”

“Yeah, takin' care of the trash and recycling would be a breeze,” Tetsutetsu says.

“There will be no forced ingestion of inedibles by our compatriot,” Shiozaki tells them both. “His health is no less significant than our own.”

“Plus it doesn't work that way,” Fukidashi admits. “Anything that isn't food just gets stuck in my head until I take it out, and it feels like ugh-guck-gugugh-uck inside of me. I don't like it at all.”

And with that, the class drops the matter – save for the few students still silently envisioning the potential of a convenient new storage space, just waiting to be refined.

…

A few of the students try to solve the problem that Ectoplasm left on the board, scribbling on pieces of paper and murmuring back and forth to each other. A debate begins over whether the problem is even finished, spurred on by a desire to do something in the lonely interlude. Answers are passed back and forth in a vain attempt at collaboration.

(Komori gets it right, albeit unintentionally, but nobody knows it – not even Komori.)

…

“Apologies, but could you please cease tapping your foot, Kamakiri?” Yanagi asks, turning from her cell phone toward him. “That sound is growing intrusive.”

“Eat me, raptor hands,” Kamakiri growls, neither looking up nor uncrossing his arms. His foot continues hitting the floor.

Yanagi wilts, and at the same time Tetsutetsu whips around. “Hey, don't be a dick!” He snaps. “She asked you to stop, so do it already!”

“Tetsutetsu!” Kendou reproaches him from her place two seats behind his. The steel boy's glowering face doesn't soften.

“Or what?” Kamakiri bares his teeth at Tetsutetsu. His footfalls become slower but louder, much more deliberate.

Rin's response – “Dude, come on...” – is drowned out as Tetsutetsu slams his palms on his desk and shoots up. “I'LL SHOW YOU THE HELL WHAT!” Tetsutetsu roars as metal slides up his arms.

The vast majority of the class cries out in fright and moves away as best they can; now that one of them has left their seat, a bunch of them follow suit and move into the corners of the room away from the promising brawl. Izuku is not one of them – all he can do is feel himself lock up in his seat as his steely classmate glares in raw contempt at Kamakiri, who simply bares his teeth right back.

Bondo and Shishida, on the other hand, stand up and close in on Tetsutetsu in order to block him from the mantis-headed boy. Small bubbles of glue are already frothing nervously around the holes in Bondo's face.

“Hey, move it!” Tetsutetsu snaps at the two of them. “He and I have shit to work out!”

They flinch slightly but remain firm. “We cannot allow that, Sir Tetsutetsu,” Shishida replies steadily. “Vlad-sensei trusted us to follow his instructions, and he would doubtless think poorly of us if we allowed you to brawl-”

“I don't care what Vlad-sensei would think!” Tetsutetsu shouts. “If he's got a problem, he can get back here and stop me himself! Now move!”

He surges toward Shishida with his final shout, and the large, beastly boy tenses.

WHAM!

Kendou slaps her desk at the last second and rises to her feet as well.

“Knock it off, Tetsutetsu! This isn't helping anybody!” She says, fixing him with a scolding glare. “Getting upset isn't going to make us feel any less scared.”

She and Tetsutetsu stare at each other for a few tense moments, and then the boy drops back into his seat, arms fully flesh once more. “Okay, fine. Sorry,” he mutters, lowering his head down toward his desk. “I'm just really freaked out.”

“And that's okay,” Kendou says. “But as Heroes-in-training, we have an obligation to learn from these situations instead of losing control of ourselves and making things worse. We're all starting from the bottom, so let's support each other as a class and not bring anyone down with us. We can get through this together, no matter how difficult it is now.”

Kendou seems to come to once she finishes talking, and upon realizing what she's done she sinks back into her seat, embarrassed.

An uncertain moment passes in silence.

“...Well, there goes my election speech,” Rin says with a quirked lip from the next row over, tossing a paper onto the floor like a towel. “There's no beating that.”

Most of the class murmurs in agreement, looking toward Kendou with newfound fondness. Izuku is still silent on the edge of the room, yet he too can't help but admire her resolve and how she brought everybody back to themselves so easily.

“So, um...” Komori pipes up from the back of the class. “If it's no truffle, what should we do now?”

The question hangs in the air. A few people are looking expectantly at Kendou, but she doesn't seem to have an answer this time.

“...Talk?” Fukidashi says quietly.

#

It only takes a few minutes to reorganize everyone's desks into a large circle around the room – the outer ring of desks slides outward, allowing the innermost students to fit into the gaps. If anyone objects to the moving of furniture – to doing anything more than sitting in silence as Vlad-sensei ordered – they're keeping quiet in the wake of Tetsutetsu's outburst.

“Okay...now what?” Kuroiro asks once everyone settles in. “Are we just a bunch of assholes in a happy circle now?”

Kendou shrugs from her place next to him. “I don't know, really. It's up to you guys,” she says. “Anybody got something on their mind?”

“I think we all have the same thing right now,” Kaibara replies.

Most of the class murmurs in agreement.

“My elementary school class wound up in the middle of a villain attack once,” Rin says, fiddling with a scrap of paper on his desk. “I was sick, so I wasn't on the bus when it happened. I remember it was...different, coming back to class with everyone after that.”

Rin leans back in his chair. “Everyone was really on edge. Things were a lot quieter, like we were all waiting for the next bad thing to happen. I mean, I'm happy that I wasn't around for it, but...” He sighs. “...I always felt like they'd all crossed that bridge without me. It wasn't the same anymore.”

The rest of the class breaks out into sympathetic murmurs and reassurances. Bondo reaches over and rubs Rin's shoulder, and Rin gives him a small smile. Part of Izuku is curious about which villain it was, but he knows it's not right to ask.

(Maybe it was back in China? His knowledge of villains in that part of Asia isn't as broad, but--)

From the seat to Izuku's right – blocking his view of Kamakiri – Shishida clears his throat. “This isn't...I don't intend to diminish Sir Rin's experience,” he begins nervously. “However, I myself have witnessed a villain's attack firsthand. I was in the city shopping with my father when I was much younger, and one of the storefronts was robbed as we were passing by. I...I only witnessed everything from a distance, admittedly, and yet...”

Shishida rubs the back of his hands. “I remember the shock as the front of the shop exploded open, as I and the people around me were silent, and then hearing the screams rising as my father carried me away. That moment when terror dawned upon us all. I...I don't think I'll ever forget it.”

The beastly young man catches Izuku's look of sympathy from the corner of his eye and turns to him with a small but grateful smile. Given the official statistics, it really shouldn't surprise Izuku that some of his classmates have been involved in villain attacks too. But he supposes that experience is something mostly anticipated through a buffer of denial; the notion that it can only happen to somebody else.

Does it count as taking down your buffer if you actively seek out villain attacks? Izuku can't remember when he stopped considering the obvious danger in the pursuit of notetaking. It just happened at some point over the years. He's never lost faith that the Heroes around him would succeed in keeping him and everyone else safe.

And there's nothing wrong with faith, right?

“You got something to share, Midoriya?”

The voice from across the circle of desks snaps Izuku from his pondering. After a confused moment, he spots Tokage watching him from across the circle of desks. The smile on her face is friendly but intentful, and the conversations around the room break to focus on her – and on Izuku.

“W-what are you taking about?” Izuku stammers, hoping for a way out of everybody's focus.

“You look like there's something on your mind, something that's close to bursting out,” Tokage says. “Ever since Shishida told his story, you've looked like you're about to add onto it. What's up?”

She leans forward in her desk, still focusing on him.

“Oh, uh...” Izuku trails off. He doesn't think that sharing everything he was thinking about is going to help their opinions of him. “I just...I was in a villain attack, too. That—Shishida's story made me think about it again.”

Shishida looks over and down at him with surprise. “Is that so? Would you mind sharing, Sir Midoriya?”

“I mean, no pressure or anything,” Shouda says, trying to sound helpful.

“You say that like it's not gonna put pressure on him,” Kaibara replies from the next seat before looking Izuku's way. “Just put it out here already. Then we can talk about something else.”

Izuku faces the expectant eyes all around the circle. Maybe they don't mean as forcefully as he thinks, but right now he's finding it hard to not feel obliged to speak. He's not sure if the story that he has to share warrants pride or shame. They both stir within him at the memory.

“So, um, it was about a year ago,” Izuku says, taking a brief, silent moment to marvel at how long it's really been. “Do any of you remember the Sludge Villain incident in the Musutafu shopping district?”

From the ring of blank looks he receives, it seems that no, they do not.

“Don't take it personally.” The sound of Monoma's voice, unheard until now, makes Izuku jump in his seat. Some distance along the circle to Izuku's right, Monoma gives him a coy smile. “I'm not sure anybody here lives close enough to hear about that. Am I right, everyone?”

A few moments pass as everyone murmurs their home prefecture in agreement. Despite the surprising range of responses – Kamakiri comes from Nagasaki, what a trip – not one fellow student names the nearby Shizuoka, where Izuku lives.

He wilts once that settles in. He'd sort of taken for granted that everyone else is as tapped into the acts of Heroes and villains as he is, but Japan is such a big country. Of course no one else would have known. That was stupid to assume.

“Oh, here it is,” Yanagi speaks up from Izuku's left, peering at the lit screen of her cell phone. “I've uncovered an article from one year prior, nearly to the day. A villain with a Sludge Quirk seized a middle school student as a hostage against local Heroes, using the student's, ah, 'Quirk of exceptional power' to keep the Heroes at a distance.” The pale-haired girl turns toward Izuku. “Was this the incident that you meant to recount?”

“Yeah, that's it!” Izuku says, bowing to Yanagi in his seat. “Thanks for finding that.”

Tsuburaba straightens in his chair with a jolt. “Holy shit, you got taken hostage?!” He half-shouts through the room. The eyes trained on Izuku widen in shock.

“Wh-no, no, no!” Izuku fumbles, wildly waving his hands in front of himself. “It was Kacchan – my best friend! Trust me, I would've been useless!”

The surprised silence that follows is an unwelcome din in its own right.

“Perhaps not,” Yanagi says, her one visible eye widening as she stares down at her phone once more. “The story continues, to elucidate that rescue efforts were hampered when a civilian attempted to rescue the hostage and was himself taken captive. A fellow middle school student, reprimanded subsequently for his actions, named Midoriya Izuku.”

Izuku stares down at his desk. He can't bring himself to see what the circus of eyes looks like now. “Y-yeah...that was me,” he admits quietly. “I just...”

He just felt himself move without realizing? It feels like a weak excuse now. Izuku can feel everybody judging him now, realizing that they were wrong to give him so much credit. He can't even use his Quirk properly, so why does he deserve a place in the Hero Course?

Before anyone can cast stones, Yanagi speaks once more. “I do require clarification on one matter. Midoriya, this article refers to you as a Quirkless civilian?” She stares at her phone with a neutral expression. “I assume that statement was made in error?”

The change of subject to Izuku's Quirk forces him to sequester his anxiety and reimmerse himself in the story that All Might gave him. Quietly, he's grateful for the reprieve. “Uh, kinda? I mean I obviously have a Quirk now,” Izuku says. His initial unsteadiness smooths out as he settles into reciting what he promised to say. “But, uh, when my Quirk came in, I kept using up whatever strength that I'd stockpiled without realizing it. So everyone around me thought I was Quirkless because I kept running out, and eventually I kinda, uh, believed it too?”

Everyone around Izuku takes time to digest the lie that he's fed them. He has no idea how any of them feel about the Quirkless, but they seem to be keeping any disapproval to themselves.

“That must have been quite a trial, Midoriya,” Shiozaki says with a solemn look in her eyes. “I'm pleased to see that you persisted until things improved.”

“Yes, I had a friend like you back in America,” Tsunotori adds, leaning forward to peer past Shishida. “Had no idea what her Quirk was until she turned thirteen. Poor girl was so broken up about it, but so excited when it finally happened!”

“What about your parents, Midoriya?” Bondo asks, looking at Izuku through the holes in his face. “Their Quirks would be like yours, right? Why not ask them?”

“Spontaneous Quirk mutations are a thing, though,” Honenuki answers instead. “It probably wasn't an option in his case.”

“Yeah,” Shouda nods, fidgeting in his seat.

“I think I see now,” Monoma says, resting his hand on his chin as he watches Izuku. “So while you thought you were Quirkless, you weren't using your stored power, so it had plenty of time to accumulate into a full hoard of strength. Am I correct?”

“That's why you still can't control it,” Kodai states over Tetsutetsu's glowering, as though solving a puzzle. “You're too inexperienced to keep from hurting yourself.”

“Uh...yeah, that's pretty much it,” Izuku admits, wilting in his seat. He doesn't have the heart to point out that he's getting better. Not when he's had so little time to consider his next steps. Vlad-sensei's advice from the fitness test – about spreading his power throughout his whole form – has been turning over in his head, but Izuku still doesn't know how to implement it. Applying power to individual muscles as he's throwing a punch?

Izuku's shoulder twitches as he thinks, and he quietly notes the way that his upper back muscles stretch with those slight movements.

“But now you've got ten years of power, right?” Tsunotori asks, perking up. “So it's okay! You're more than strong enough to be here now!”

“That depends on how much power he's using each time,” Honenuki says. “Midoriya, do you have some idea of how much power you expend every time you use your Quirk?”

No. Not really.

“Uh, vaguely,” Izuku says. “But I'm not going to run out anytime soon, I promise! I've still got a lot of power stored up, so as long as I'm not wasteful...”

Now that Izuku thinks about it, that lie is going to be difficult to keep up for the next three years. He's already used so much strength with every firing of his Quirk – surely in time they'll all start to question how much he can possibly have left.

“Well, I for one hope that you'll see things through with the rest of us,” Monoma says, showing Izuku a cat's grin.

From across the room, Tetsutetsu scoffs. “Sure, so you can suck on that teat whenever you want,” he grumbles loud enough to be heard.

Much of the room erupts in woah's or similar noise of shock and scandal. Kendou hits Tetsutetsu on his bicep. “Tetsutetsu! That's uncalled for! Don't say things like that to your classmates.”

“Well, someone's gotta!” Tetsutetsu says, sitting rigid in his seat and fixing his gaze on Monoma. His usual glare seems to deepen. “No teachers to stop us this time.”

Izuku, sitting still as a statue, watches Monoma's ever-present smile fade into a tight, thin line. He stares back at Tetsutetsu with his head tilted slightly down toward his desk. “If you have a problem with me, I'd prefer you just tell me,” he says with a flinty voice. “Instead of dancing around it and throwing rocks at me.”

“Guys...” Kendou starts, looking worried now. Some of the others say similar things, hoping to head off a conflict.

It doesn't work. Izuku watches as Tetsutetsu rises up once more and stomps into the circle. “Yeah, I got a hell of a problem with you, copycat,” he growls, stopping in front of Monoma's desk and leering at him. “Ever since day one, you've been treatin' us like lab rats, always analyzing and lookin' down on us. I know your type. All you're thinkin' about is what you can get from us. Who's got the best Quirks and who you're gonna hit up next.”

And then he points to Izuku, who jumps in surprise.

“I saw you chatting with Midoriya at lunch a couple days ago, and lookin' at him on the way to USJ. I bet you're drooling for a shot at a Quirk like his. But I'm not lettin' you do that, not to a good dude like Midoriya!”

Izuku's mouth sticks open, his brain shorting out in processing. Tetsutetsu seems to...like him? Genuinely so, even though they've only been in class for a few days. That can't be enough time to make a good enough impression. Besides, the way he's looming over Monoma with his fists clenched – not yet metal, but likely in moments – and a scowling face...

Izuku knows that look. He's known it for years, and it's always been coupled with impending pain. Even if it's aimed toward someone else now, Izuku can easily picture those burning eyes shifting over to him before...

“It wouldn't matter if I copied Midoriya's Quirk,” Monoma says tightly. “I wouldn't have time to build up any power before losing it. And I couldn't take his Quirk even if I wished to.” Monoma rises from his seat as well, drawing noises of distress from his surrounding classmates. He keeps the desk between himself and his metallic aggressor. “My Quirk doesn't take anything, as I've said, it only copies for a little while. That's all.”

Tetsutetsu's glare doesn't fade. “Sure, for now,” he says. “How about in a year or two? What'll your Quirk do then? Maybe it'll keep all your copies, or maybe it'll take Quirks for real. Who knows?”

He flexes his hands, cutting through the silence with his cracking knuckles. “I don't know about anyone else, but I don't wanna find out.”

“Tetsutetsu, that's enough!” Kendou shouts at his back, standing up as well. “Monoma hasn't done anything! What do you think will happen if you try and pick a fight with him? Vlad-sensei will--”

“If Vlad-sensei has a problem, he can come back and stop me himself!” Tetsutetsu growls. His knuckles turn metallic with an audible sheeen and he clashes them together without breaking his gaze on Monoma.

Amidst the circle of frozen students, Rin and Tsuburaba rise from their seats on either side of Monoma, preparing to act. In the middle of them, Monoma glances between the two and considers his options...then reaches out and taps both boys on their shoulders.

They make quiet noises of surprise as lime green scales sprout from Monoma's arms with a continuous snktktktkt sound. “I'd rather not resort to blows if possible,” Monoma says quietly. “But I won't allow myself to become a victim.”

Despite his brave words, Izuku can see the uncertainty in Monoma's eyes. Not quite fear, but adjacent to fear.

It's familiar. It's all too familiar – a tableau played out countless times before. The only differences now are that the victim has a Quirk to defend himself, and the attacker isn't smiling with malicious delight.

But just because Tetsutetsu isn't smiling doesn't mean his furious scowl is any less frightening. The steel slowly hardens down his arms, approaching his elbows. “You really can't do anything on your own, can you, copycat? No wonder you've always been jealous of everybody else.”

A new emotion flickers across Monoma's face, a brief flash of genuine rage. His arms stiffen, now fully covered in sharp-edged scales.

But his stance is weak. Izuku has watched enough Heroes engage in hand-to-hand combat to understand that much. And Tetsutetsu doesn't seem like he'll hold back.

It's happening again. Even at U.A., it's happening again. It's so close, and yet Izuku feels like there's a chasm between himself and everything else. A rift with no bottom and no chance of crossing, solely existing to keep him away from what's to come.

But as Tetsutetsu takes another step forward, his shoulders rolling backward in preparation, Izuku feels energy shoot through his arms like rocket fuel. It starts at his fingertips and surges upward past his shoulders and into the tendons connected to his back. (He thinks – anatomy has never been a subject of special focus for him.)

And even with no such power pulsing through his legs, Izuku leaps across the chasm, far faster than he'd expected. When his feet strike the ground, he swings his arms upward and catches Tetsutetsu's metallic braces in his grasp – lightly enough not to deform him, but not so light that the other boy could pull free, even once his shock ended.

Izuku's arms crackle with energy, almost seeming to cast a light from the middle of the room like a star. The muscles in his back burn something fierce as the unfamiliar lightning courses through them, but his arms remain immovable in their grip and the absence of motion seems to negate any risk of breaking them.

Izuku hears motion behind him as Monoma's voice says his name. “Midoriya...” There's no shortage of awe in his voice. In front of him, Tetsutetsu's gobsmacked expression replaces itself with one of confusion. “Dude, what're you...” Tetsutetsu's voice trails off.

“Enough...” Izuku hears himself say. His anxiety burns in his chest just as hot as the energy within his arms, but it sharpens his words into a point like a whetstone. “He hasn't done anything wrong! He's just trying to belong here, like you and me. Even if he's not like you...that's no excuse to hurt him!”

The words strike a chord in Izuku's heart as they leave his mouth. Before Kacchan and his classmates, his teachers...long before he realized that they had no intention of supporting him, he remembers hoping that somebody would speak out in his defense. He wanted that just as much as he wanted to become a Hero – for somebody, anybody at all, to see what meager offerings he had as something worth protecting.

Monoma already has far more than Izuku ever had. He could be an amazing Hero, if only somebody would believe in him.

Behind Izuku, where his eyes cannot see, the scales on Monoma's arms sink back underneath his flesh. His eyes, normally meant to shroud his thoughts, are wide and clear and for once he has no words to speak.

“Midoriya...” Tetsutetsu says weakly, caught so powerfully off-guard. “C'mon, man. You've seen him. He's...”

“He's going to be a Hero,” Izuku finishes, in this moment as powerful as Tetsutetsu is feeble. “Like everyone else here.”

The standoff between Izuku and Tetsutetsu holds, just as the room holds its breath in timeless witness.

“M-Midoriya...” Shiozaki finally, quietly breaks the stillness. “Sensei could return at any moment. If he...”

“He won't be returning for some time yet.”

Everybody turns in shock toward the front of the room, including Izuku and Tetsutetsu, their conflict forgotten. A crack in space, leaking fog as dark and cold as a moonless night, opens in front of the blackboard.

Before everyone's terrified eyes, the smoke curls upon itself and forms a figure with translucent yellow eyes of its own – less a dark-bodied person like Kuroiro and more a spot of existence stained darker than Kuroiro could ever be.

“Although, I'm reluctant to consider that as good fortune,” the being continues in a deep voice, masculine and calm. It scans the ring of students with a clear lack of passion and utters a name. “Midoriya Izuku.”

The catching of air in Izuku's throat is all the answer that the being requires as it focuses upon him. “Yes...poor luck on our part, it seems. A coin flip called wrong.”

Suddenly, the figure of smoke rises upward toward the ceiling, towering over the students of Class 1-B.

“Our League of Villains has a task for you, Young Midoriya. I had intended to retrieve you solely...but this will do just fine.”

And then the human-shaped stain exploded outward, filling the classroom in a cube of sightless black fog. Izuku hears his classmates crying out around him, before their cries suddenly cut out. It only serves to unmask his own cries.

“Please do us the favor of demonstrating your expertise, Midoriya Izuku...” The voice resonates from everywhere within the smoke, echoing within the nothing all the way into Izuku's bones.

And then the mist surges inward onto a single point in the room and blinks out of existence, leaving the desks and chairs untouched and utterly empty.

…

The shadow underneath the desk twists and rises into a humanoid shape as a dark-skinned boy steps out and looks around through the empty classroom. Not one desk, chair, or pencil has been touched or removed.

Only everyone inside.

Kuroiro Shihai looks down at the disembodied hand clutched tightly in his grasp, and lets out a nervous laugh. “Hah...well, fuck.”

Chapter Text

Yousetsu knows exactly what he's about.

His parents had told him to figure that out when he told them, as a precocious little fourth grader, that he wanted to be a Hero one day. They hadn't discouraged little Yoh, but they'd made it clear that he would have to understand that much with a Quirk like his; a short-ranged power with no intrinsic offensive or defensive capability and very little in the way of flashiness.

Weld, he calls it – using a little bit of his body heat to merge two objects on a molecular level. His dad had always tried to steer him toward something safer with a power like that – manufacturing, or construction. A field where being able to fuse things together was utilitarian and majorly cost-cutting.

(Because why buy a mechanical welder when you can stick a guy on the assembly line and have him run his finger down seams for fifty years?)

But Yousetsu didn't want that. He wanted excitement, to feel like he was making a serious difference in the world. He'd thought about becoming a cop, but he wasn't super into spending years at a desk until his big break came, so that just left being a Hero.

“...Of course, now having a desk job sounds just cozy,” Yousetsu finishes with no small amount of bitterness. “Or an assembly line. At least there I wouldn't be shark chum.”

He heaves a sigh as Tsuyu and Kaminari take in everything he's told them. “Yeah, it doesn't sound like your Quirk will be much help here,” Tsuyu says. She looks out over the railing of the broken cruiser at the school of aquatic villains treading water and muttering with anticipation. “Unless you want to get up close and stick them together.”

Yousetsu shudders. “We'll call that Plan D,” he says. It was a whole different thing from fusing shoes to floors or an insulation blanket to Kaminari during a Battle Trial. “What about you guys?”

“My Quirk makes me part frog,” Tsuyu says. “I can jump really high and stick to walls, and my tongue stretches up to twenty meters.”

That falls in line with everything Yousetsu has seen from her. She did a lot of hopping around during her Battle Trial with Tokoyami.

“Also, I can turn my stomach inside-out, and my skin secretes a poisonous fluid – I mean, it really just stings a little...”

That's...not nothing.

“And you guys know what I've got,” Kaminari adds with a grimace. His fingers spark briefly to demonstrate. “The only way I'm helping is if I jump in the water and let them get a hold of me. Then I could shock 'em all silly.”

Silence falls upon the three. Yousetsu shoots Tsuyu a look and gets one back, then they both turn toward Kaminari, still glancing at his hand with distaste before noticing them staring. “Uh...you guys got something?”

“Yeah,” Yousetsu says, cracking his knuckles. “Real quick, man – pick a god and yayyy.”

#

Unlike what most people thought at first, Ochako isn't a simple little girl. She sure isn't all that either, but she knows that life isn't sweet mochi and gumdrops. Life is tough, especially for a girl below the poverty line; all the little costs of life add up fast, even the ones that don't cost nothing.

When Ochako chose to be a Hero, she took a good look at those costs. She knew she'd be starting small – hence her going straight to the top at U.A. – and she knew it'd be a hard line of work. She knew that.

She just thought she'd have more time to prepare.

Still, beggars can't be choosers, so when Shouji pounces on the smoky Villain and Iida makes a break for the exit, Ochako makes sure to be prepared. So when the man of mist breaks free before too long and flies (is that the right word?) after Iida, swirling into another dark portal, Ochako is right on top of him, grabbing the brace around his neck – the one part of the Villain she can grab.

“If you're wearing this thing, you must have a real body somewhere in there!” She hears herself exclaim, before flinging the misty figure upward without the tug of gravity. As Sero lashes the Villain by his brace and hurls him back over the plaza, Ochako lets out a final cry to Iida and watches him slip through the doors as they close.

She nearly flops onto her back right there, but makes herself keep standing as Thirteen plods up to her and the rest – Shouji, Sero, Satou, and Ashido, the only ones left behind when the fog Villain split them all up.

“Good job, you guys. Now stay back here and let Aizawa and I handle the rest,” they say.

Ochako nods and mutters her assent, along with the other four students, and the Space Hero makes their way down the steps to the plaza, unlocking the caps on their fingertips to pull a couple of Villains away from Aizawa-sensei. Their homeroom teacher notices the assist almost instantly and whips around to ensnare those that Thirteen set up for him.

So it continues for the next several moments. Between the two Pros working in tandem, the horde of Villains is whittled down even more quickly than before. Some of the Villains begin approaching Thirteen now that they've joined the fray, but Aizawa-sensei notices them and captures them like rats in traps.

(Why doesn't Thirteen just defend themselves, Ochako wonders, but things are going well enough that she can't complain.)

Still, the pale-skinned man covered in hands watches from the back, joined by the hulking black mass hunched over behind him. Ochako struggles not to look at it, lest another chill run down her spine. That thing...it isn't human. There's no way. Even for a Mutant-type Quirk, it's...it's way too twisted. Its skin stretched to tearing across repulsively engorged muscles, with empty and thoughtless eyes, a horrific beak of a mouth filled with teeth like swords, and its enormous and pulsating brain with no cranium at all.

The man of black mist reforms next to the pale man and tells him something. Ochako sees the man covered in hands tense even from across the plaza, sees him raises his actual hands up to his neck and furiously rake at his own skin.

Then he stops just as quickly as he started, and the ensuing pause fills Ochako with a deep impending dread.

“Hey, what's going on?” Sero asks from behind her. “You seeing something, Uraraka?”

Ochako's throat suddenly feels dry. “I...I think so, maybe? No idea what, though.”

“They're leaving,” Shouji adds. His arms are flared and his top hands morphed into ears. “That one in the middle, he says they can't handle all the Pros, and...”

Shouji looks off toward the water, and his eyes go wide as he sucks in air through his mask. “Oh no...”

Ochako's gaze follows that of her Class President, toward the three figures standing in the shallows where the plaza meets the Flood Zone – looks like Tsuyu, Kaminari, and one other.

Behind her, Ashido gulps, her peppy expression missing, for once. “And what? What...what did he say?” She asks quietly.

Shouji doesn't have time to answer before the pale man with hair like string tears toward the water at a speed faster than anyone Ochako's ever seen, save for Iida. In the next moment, he lunges for Tsuyu and grips her face tightly in one hand.

Before Ochako can register what happens to her, Satou lets out a shout. “Damn it! I can't wait here!” He clutches at his belt compartment and pulls out a Pixy Stik (screw the unmarked packaging, it is what it is), downing the sugary insides in a single gulp. His muscles tighten and bulge beneath his skintight suit as he launches himself down the stairs toward the fray.

“Satou, wait!” Shouji yells, but Ashido and Sero are already rushing down as well; she slides down the stairs on an acid slick while he lashes the underside of the archway above and swings through the air.

From Sero's audible groan of, “Aw, geez,” it seems they're more concerned with backing up Satou than playing at being Pros.

Ochako grits her teeth and makes a decision. “Sorry, Shouji. I have to go, too,” she says as her feet already start to move. (Shouji, though she can't tell, follows just behind her.)

Off in the distance, following the harrowing pause, Tsuyu appears unharmed, and the unknown third figure – Awase, Ochako remembers – thrusts something at the pale man's hand.

#

It takes Yousetsu a matter of heartbeats – not even seconds – to register the sight of the emaciated Villain's hand gripping Tsuyu's face.

Too long, he understands on some level, but will only realize later.

An impact smashes through the deathly stillness, and Yousetsu's eyes fill with shock as he glances Satou on the other side of the plaza, careening into a pair of Villains and knocking them back. The muscular boy is joined in short order by Sero and Ashido, spraying a barrage of acid and tape – the former low and the latter high – to force back more of the crowd.

As if that wasn't enough of a sight, Shouji jumps up from behind them and hurls Uraraka – curled up, weightless, and stuck with a strand of Sero's tape – toward the thinned out horde of Villains.

Further back, Thirteen shouts something of obvious displeasure, and Yousetsu hears Aizawa-sensei let out a pained curse from nearer by.

The pale man turns to watch, growling with irritation, and Yousetsu knows that he won't get a better moment to act. Yousetsu can't bring himself to look at what's become of Tsuyu (nothing, thanks to Aizawa-sensei) as he rips one of his small metal welding logs from his uniform's baggy pocket and jabs at the Villain's hand with it. Said Villain doesn't even react as it thrusts oddly against the back of his hand, except to turn his head just barely toward Yousetsu.

The sight of that one eye – set deep in worn, leathery flesh, dull yet flickering with something primal and horrific – will give Yousetsu nightmares for many days hereon.

But for now, Yousetsu reacts, grabbing at the base of the log where it meets skin. The instant he feels the edge of his hand graze against the Villain's, sparks flicker between them as heat rushes to that small, reluctant point of connection.

One of the perks of having a micro-scale Quirk is that it's relatively easy to train without fear of bringing Quirk usage laws down on one's head. Explosions and massive glaciers are one matter, but fusing two small objects together is something that Yousetsu can do even within throngs of people. He's come a long way from needing bed rest and warm tea after welding a few toy blocks together; now, Yousetsu hardly feels his body chill at all as the metal rod fuses to the back of the pale man's hand.

Before Yousetsu can yank the rod and its attached hand away from Tsuyu, the Villain snaps, “Damn brat!” and bats his arm away with the hand that Yousetsu was working on. In the same instant, he twists and lashes his other hand toward Yousetsu's head like a scorpion and its tail.

Yousetsu has no idea where the instinct telling him to duck comes from, but the proximity to death that he brushes against will impact him in full force later. For now, he ducks his head downward, and although it's an awkward and unbalanced movement, it's enough that the Villain merely grabs onto his long, spiked hair rather than of the side of his head.

He feels a sudden sense of nothingness against his scalp as the strands of his hair decompose, aging into dust and blowing away. It leaves behind a jagged patch of bare skin that already prickles with the sensitivity of flesh unaccustomed to air and dust.

If Yousetsu cared to look, to cast his gaze behind the man who so very nearly ended his life, he would see Aizawa-sensei and the hulking monster atop him, embedding his face so deep into the earth that it leaves cracks. He would see the misty tendrils swirling around the monster and vanishing it like a magic trick – even longer, and he might see the horrific creature manifest behind Thirteen and the rest of the team, baying for blood.

But Yousetsu can't pull his eyes away from the pale, skeleton-esque demon in front of him, eyes dark and utterly filled with malice, his other hand – the one with the rod joined to it – spasming like something independently alive and revulsed beyond measure, even as it grows to fill Yousetsu's vision as it did Tsuyu's.

Yousetsu feels his life flash before his eyes, but the terror flooding his mind washes away every memory before he can touch it.

And then there is a greater impact from the entrance, so far away in this moment, and everything stops again. Yousetsu's dread turns to confusion.

And then, seeing All Might, to joy.

#

Ochako can't bring herself to open her eyes, even when the explosions of sound that batter her ears like rainfall finally end with a shattering crash from high above. She's terrified of what she'd see first, let alone everything after.

The heavy form of Shouji still presses down hard on top of her. It all happened so fast.

The monster had appeared just moments after they'd entered the fray, after Shouji had pulled Ochako back from her first zero-gravity leap. They were ready to fan out and push back the crowd of Villains as much as they could to take some pressure off Aizawa-sensei and Thirteen.

Then it was behind them. That...Ochako doesn't buy into monsters, but it can't be anything else. It had crushed Thirteen's helmet like an empty chocolate egg, and then moved on to the other five. Shouji had leaped in front of Ochako, but they were battered before they could blink.

Somehow, Ochako's armored high boots had shattered, and her eyes still water at pain of the shrapnel digging into her crumpled legs. What if she has to pay to fix them...?

“Man, that was straight outta the comics,” Kirishima says from nearby, and Ochako's focus rushes toward the presence of a conscious classmate. “That thing had shock absorption, and he just smashed his way through it. The regeneration just couldn't keep up...”

Kirishima trails off, and his words hang in the air. There's enough unsaid for everyone to hear. All Might had saved them – sure, with an assist from some of the heavy-hitters, but it all came down to All Might. He'd made it seem effortless.

And Ochako? All of her classmates who'd tried to pitch in? They were nothing. Might as well have done nothing, for all they pulled off.

“All Might...” Todoroki says softly. There's a twinge of something in his voice, something that's never been there before (but then, it's not like Todoroki has given anyone much to draw from). It's not admiration, it's too tight, too...urgent.

The thought that it could be panic, that Endeavor's esteemed, recommended kid with a persona of ice could express anything approaching alarm causes Ochako to finally open her eyes.

There's a...a lot of dust, but Ochako makes out All Might's towering stature, standing even more than Herculean as a silhouette fading into light. His back is toward his students, his right arm curled forward into a triumphant fist and his left hand gripping the left side of his stomach.

And that left hand, Ochako realizes with a quaking stomach as liquid spurts from between All Might's fingers, is so incredibly red and shiny.

#

For the first time in years, All Might hurts.

The gaping hole in his side that the monster tore open again continues gushing blood through his slick fingers. He keeps hoping for it to go numb eventually, but the agony blooms in waves from his left side across the rest of his body like vines from a horrid and macabre flower.

He can only hope that he'll manage to see a doctor before it goes septic. Could it, with his stomach and a chunk of his intestines missing? The Symbol of Peace doesn't know – he wasn't expecting to receive a grievous injury in that spot again.

The rest of All Might's whole body aches as well, both from the blows he received and the ones he dealt back, but mostly from the familiar feeling of being seconds away from his powerful form collapsing. As much as he forces his muscles to stay in place, he might as well be holding back the walls of his body with a piece of straw.

It hurts now, and imploding back into his powerless guise will hurt even more.

But it's his new injury, the one that he only just received, that All Might can't pull away from. The fingertips of his right hand brush against the deadened skin of his neck, searching for sensation and heedless of how his flesh flakes numbly away.

A sharp and painful stinging greets him as his fingers rub over a newfound gash in the side of his throat, followed by four more as the Symbol of Peace traces across his neck along where the Villain covered in hands grabbed him after lunging through the portal.

Five holes worn into his neck, one for each fingertip on the Villain's hand. If Snipe had shown up and opened fire even a moment later...

Somewhere far away, people are saying his name.

How had this happened? Was he just too careless? He'd already been on his way to the U.S.J. when Young Iida had appeared on the road ahead of him, bearing a look of fear and urgency that had All Might worried even before the youngest Iida told him what was happening. Once that was done, well, a hundred earthquakes and tornadoes and every other kind of weather wouldn't keep the Symbol of Peace from his new students.

Had that not been enough? That monster, they called it Noumu, it was like they knew exactly what to expect and prepared a weapon specifically for him. It was only sheer force of power that had won All Might the day – but if not for his students, especially Bakugou and Todoroki, who had granted All Might the moment of reprieve that he'd needed to turn things around, he can't say if he would have survived.

The raw, painful wounds in his neck remind him of that all too well.

“...Hey, All Might? You...you okay?”

He can't even say that everything ended well today. He doesn't know how most of Class 1-A is doing, scattered as they are, or who that Villain covered in hands was or why he reeked of such pure and vile loathing. He hadn't even apprehended the ringleaders, who swept up a handful of the remaining Villains and disappeared through a portal of dark mist.

He can't even remember the last time he felt so...so ineffectual.

“All Might...? Stand up, please! All Might!”

He blinks. “Oh, uh, sorry...” As All Might turns to see the faces of six of his students – Todoroki, Bakugou, Kirishima, Asui, Awase, and Kaminari – he expects to see the looks of fear and awe that he's accustomed to drawing. Possibly he'll need to give them a calming talk about how he'll only ever be there to help them, never to turn that power from today against them.

The blank looks on their faces, even Asui's by comparison, give him pause. Kaminari, looking a little dazed from everything, gives him a thumbs up and cheers for him, which is at least something that All Might is accustomed to.

“Uh...hey,” Awase says, clearly clambering for something to say. “Are you...uh...”

“Who the fuck are you?” Bakugou butts in. He doesn't sound dismissive or even angry, but his face twists like he's taking in way too much and trying to process it all at once.

“You're All Might, aren't you?” Asui asks. Kaminari giggles from his place upon her back.

“Don't be stupid! There's no way...no fucking way...” Bakugou trails off halfheartedly.

“Hey, it's cool, everyone. There's gotta be an answer here,” Kirishima chimes in, looking from All Might to his classmates with concern.

Todoroki says nothing, and averts his gaze from the Symbol of Peace. He bites his lip and clenches his trembling fist in as much emotion as All Might has ever seen from him.

As if to enforce All Might's growing anxiety, he feels a thick mass rising up his throat, forcing him to cough out a thick glob of blood that spatters against his fist and sprays onto the ground. He looks down at himself, at a semi-formal outfit that's torn to pieces and hanging much too loosely off his body. His old wound is on full display, newly torn and weeping, and although his body no longer feels on the verge of crumpling, it's only because he already has.

“All Might!” One of Ectoplasm's clones rushes up to him and his students, glancing back and forth between them before settling on the hollow shell of the Symbol of Peace. “The rest of the students are safe. Snipe and Power Loader just confirmed it. I'm bringing them back to the plaza per the Principal's orders.”

The Spectral Hero lets out an audible sigh as the weight upon his prosthetic legs seems to increase. “But it seems we have another problem now, don't we?”

Todoroki suddenly looks up. “Did you all know about this?” He asks, his cool voice still level and monotonous. “You've all been hiding this from us, haven't you.”

“What even is this?” Awase follows up, growing frantic. “Is this really All Might? What the hell happened to him? He's not supposed to look like this!”

“It's fine, Young Awase. All of you,” All Might says. The worn reediness of his voice sounds unassuring even to himself. “I am All Might, I promise. I know this must be a shock, but...”

He lets out a weak, abortive chuckle. They're quiet now, the six of them, as the truth crashes down upon them.

(Save for Kaminari, who stills gives the Symbol of Peace an encouraging gesture. All Might starts to wonder if he's really okay.)

The only one who doesn't look worried outright is Bakugou, who stares at All Might's skeletal true form with a look of vacant, desperate disbelief. His breath is audible in the silence even though he's still as stone.

Ectoplasm listens to something through his headset, then briefly sags further before straightening and gently clearing his throat. “All Might, Shouji and Uraraka are claiming that they saw you as well from the stairs. They couldn't tell who you were from so far away, but they're panicked and I don't think I could soothe them enough.”

He goes quiet for a moment, then continues. “What would you like to do now?”

All Might says nothing as he stares at the ground, at once-muscular hands now reduced to flesh and bone. Hands that can't protect anybody without the guise of the Symbol of Peace to cover them. When Principal Nedzu had promised the faculty's aid in hiding his shame, All Might had believed that a little effort would be enough to protect his students from the truth he'd been hiding for five years.

But this League of Villains...they've torn that mantle of secrecy from his shoulders. The six children before him, the other two at least who'd seen him, and everybody else who remains in the dark...to sacrifice this mantle would cover the schism that threatens to force them apart.

But how many of them can he trust with this burden? He never wanted to burden anybody.

…

All Might rises unsteadily to his feet as his students watch in wide-eyed anticipation. He knows he should be looking them in the eye, but he just can't. “Children...I have something to share with you, once Aizawa is well enough to return. He...he deserves to be present for this.”

#

Even with the Master's words of encouragement, Tomura remains sullen as Kurogiri sends him to the Doctor for recovery. Kurogiri cannot blame him, not when the plan that he'd so anticipated had collapsed so utterly.

The portal closes as Tomura's hand passes through, the one now scarred with a gaping wound where a pipe had been welded to it and then disintegrated well past its end. Those children...already U.A. has trained them too well. Even the army of thugs that Tomura brought with him would have been sufficient, had they only been pitted against a class from a more pedestrian institution.

And although Noumu will be of no leverage should it be detained, it remains a powerful weapon snatched from the hands of the League.

Kurogiri, Master's voice emanates from the television once more. How exactly did this mission come to fail? I was quite confident that Noumu would be sufficient for its task.

Kurogiri relays the mission in as much detail as he can, from the initial invasion met by Eraserhead's resistance to the continued successes from the students of Class 1-A. He adds that one of the children escaped and retrieved aid from the school, while All Might engaged the Noumu and defeated it, albeit with a painful retribution from Tomura.

“Those children were the deciding factor, I believe. Tomura assumed they would only act as nuisances, and tried to remove them separately.”

Yes, it seems so, Master agrees. Nonetheless, we have no dearth of further opportunities for Tomura's success. With luck, this experience will teach him to learn and grow into the role I've prepared for him.

Perhaps unlikely, Kurogiri thinks, but then he is not meant to think.

In the meantime, I happen to have another assignment for you, should you have the vitality to spare for it.

Kurogiri's face – where it should be at least – becomes a few lumens brighter as his glowing eyes widen. “Master...I apologize, but Tomura's current state is not optimal for further activity.”

No, no. This task is solely for you, Kurogiri. In fact, I would prefer that what I'm about to ask not reach Tomura's ears. No point in worrying him after everything else.

That's...intriguing. Master has only ever included Tomura in his decisions. He has never excluded him, and never so explicitly.

Master continues without Kurogiri's response. U.A.'s most recent class of Heroes contains a child of considerable interest to me. A young man who distinguished himself during their entrance exams in a familiar and most troubling manner. As he was not present during our grand assault, I can only surmise that we had the bad luck of his enrollment in a different class.

A brief pause. I would like you to return to U.A. and retrieve him for me in the absence of the instructors.

“To kill him, Master?”

No. I merely want to gauge his abilities for now. His death will come once the ensuing despair reaches a suitable height.

Kurogiri rises once more, and the weariness of his remaining body vanishes. His Master's word is his life and law, and all else is ancillary. “What is this boy's name, Master.”

Another pause, as though Master is savoring the anticipation.

Midoriya Izuku.

Chapter Text

It takes Shihai a few attempts to figure out a good angle for kicking out the vent cover from the inside. The space is painfully, horribly cramped even for someone who can meld into the absence of light, and his foot is nearly as long as the vent itself is wide. He groans; this always looks so much easier in video games.

The vent clatters off after a few firm strikes. Shihai's foot disappears back into the shadows, followed by a pair of arms emerging, lengthening from the darkness out into the hallway. They're followed by a head and torso, neither of which should fit within the air ducts except that they're emerging from the shadows on the very lip of the vent's opening.

Slowly, Shihai extracts his upper body and crawls out on his hands into the empty hall of U.A. The Class 1-B homeroom should be down the corridor to his left a little ways. He knows it's as empty and silent as the grave, since that mist Villain arrived and took everyone else away.

Well, not all of them. Shihai pats his shirt pocket to assure himself that Tokage's hand is still in there. She'd segmented herself at the exact moment that the Villain spread his fog through the classroom, and Shihai – sitting right next to her – had been in a prime position to take one of her hands into hiding with him.

(He can't explain what compelled him to do that. Having someone else around for comfort, maybe?)

Shihai feels more complete as he drags his legs out by inches. He hadn't expected to fit himself into the vents, Quirk or not. But sitting alone in that empty classroom until something happened would've made him go nuts. Tokage's hand hadn't twitched since he'd taken it, so he couldn't even count on that for anything.

Finally, Shihai pulls himself out past his knees and bends his legs back into the light. He climbs back to his feet and tries to think. Right now, he has a severed hand and no one to give it to. (And how long will it last, anyway?) The dead quiet of the hallway suggests that all the other classes are still in their room, and the teachers are still away.

Shihai turns and runs down the hallway. He's got to bump into somebody, maybe they'll know what to do. And maybe, if Shihai's really lucky, they'll be able to take this gross, dead hand from him.

#

The return of light is so abrupt that Izuku flinches and stumbles about as the fog recedes, falling to one knee with a sense of vertigo. He catches himself and waits for the world to stop spinning, then rises warily to his feet, still prepared to run at a moment's notice.

From the middle of the huge and empty room, Izuku can just make out the walls through the dim illumination provided by the lights high overhead. The space stretches in a large rectangle, with corners cast in shadows and the undersides of catwalks visible along the walls higher up. Izuku spins around, desperately seeking signs of additional life with him – his classmates would be nice for sure – but finds nothing.

Izuku can't remember how long he was in the black mist with everyone. It felt like hours, with his sight utterly negated and the muted voices of his screaming classmates fading away until Izuku was alone. Something tells him that if his fellow students were dropped off somewhere, then it's not anywhere nearby. Mass teleportation, using fog as a medium and allowing for selective and potentially long-range transportation – teleportation Quirks are already few and far between, so a power like this must have been exceptionally hard to come by...

Izuku shakes himself out of that. Nervously, he looks around and calls out to the dim emptiness around him. “H-hello? Is anybody here?” He feels like a singular tensed muscle, prepared to spring in an instant of change, as he draws his body lower and slides his feet across the ground while turning slowly around. “Monoma? Tetsutetsu? You're not...not still here, are you? Can anyone hear me?”

“I'm afraid it's merely you and I in this place, young man.”

Izuku shouts and jumps straight backward at the sudden voice from above, stumbling but staying upright as he whips around. “Who's there?!” He shouts, looking upward and straining his eyes to try and locate anyone else.

“A man whose ambitions for this country stretch far beyond your understanding, Midoriya,” the voice continues, processed and electronic as though played through a speaker. It chuckles, a terrible noise. “Yes, I'm more than aware of your identity, young man. U.A. Academy has never been a proponent of discretion, after all. Why bother, when placing their embryos beneath a magnifier is so much more satisfying.”

Another chuckle. Izuku's skin crawls. “Y-you know they won't let you get away with this! The Heroes will come, and they'll...they'll...!”

“Stop me? Yes, that is the cliché,” the voice says. “But I'm afraid your teachers are more than slightly preoccupied, or don't you recall? Otherwise, retrieving you and your fledgling friends would have been slightly more of a trial.”

Izuku stiffens. Vlad-sensei had been long gone...what about the rest of the teachers? Is that confirmation that they'd all been called away to the same emergency? But wait, there was something else...

“You...you said that you took my classmates too?” Izuku asks. His hands curl into fists as his breathing becomes harsher, more determined. “What did you do to them? Where are they?”

“They've all been deposited somewhere that won't allow them to interfere with our business. My associate saw to that,” the voice says. Izuku listens for a note of malice or humor, something that could confirm that his fellows are in danger, but nothing comes through amidst the static. “I would advise that you refrain from fretting over them, Midoriya. You lack the recourse to locate or reconvene with them, and I would prefer that you not allow your worry to sabotage our present affairs.”

A cold, heavy mass of dread sinks into Izuku's gut, one that he tries to ignore. “Present affairs? What do you mean?”

The voice makes Izuku wait for a reply, dangles it above him like a scythe or a massive weight primed to fall upon him without warning.

“An assessment,” the voice speaks at last. “Of your rate of learning and your current state. U.A. flourishes its elite status so readily, and yet I've found that a personal evaluation is so often conducive to proper learning. Your consent is optional. Your compliance is not.”

Even without that presentation, Izuku knows that this is not the sort of test to which he would prefer to submit. His legs stiffen as every cell in his body screams at him to run, to find his class and escape this horrid place. They can find their way out and get help, if they find one another. If they work together.

But he knows that there isn't a hope for him. Somehow, he's more than aware of that even without it said aloud.

The voice in the speaker continues without Izuku's reply. “Now then, I so hate to waste time. Let's begin now. Best of luck to you...Midoriya Izuku.”

The speaker cuts out. Izuku can't bring himself to move, not without knowing what's to come. The ensuing pause is painful.

And then, from above, a loud screeching noise fills the room and a large form swoops down from the rafters. Izuku makes out a lithe body with sickly yellow flesh, long webbed wings, and a head with an enormous, exposed brain and inset dead eyes before the creature is upon him.

He can barely move – barely bring himself to move when faced with a...a thing of nightmares such as that.

And elsewhere, far away, a prone and broken form listens to the audio that shrieks and cries in fear, and twists into a horrid mockery of a grin.

#

Kinoko covers her mouth with her hand as she stalks (stipes?) through the darkness in silence. Keeping close to the ground like this – well, not exactly like this – is second nature to her after a life of shrimpiness and exploring for new cap-headed friends to meet and tuck into her memory.

She never thought that practice would help her now, in a place as dark and unknown as the forests she's gotten lost in a few times over the years. Her parents were upset with her, but it was worth it to find some of those rare Woolly Saturns. Sadly, she doesn't think there are any of those shrooms around here, wherever here is.

Lots of big and solid metal things around and hard tile floors, so definitely some kind of building. Such a big room, so maybe a hangar or a storehouse? She's pretty sure that someone else is here too, between the clanging and the footsteps from far away, and the spine-chilling giggling sounds from way too close.

Kinoko doesn't cry. It won't help her find anyone or keep away from someone who might mean her harm. Plus, people didn't like it when she cried too loud at school, or talked to much about mushrooms in class, or outside of class, or when she asked her classmates to go picking shrooms in the woods with her...

There's a bump from nearby, way too nearby. Kinoko freezes and stifles a squeak behind the palm that she desperately clasps around her mouth. She prays to whatever shroomy God awaits her in mushy Heaven for whatever made that noise to go away and not bother her. Let her find somewhere to curl up and hide at least, like the little shrooms that grow beneath tree roots or in the cracks of old barns and houses...

Another, gentler noise reaches Kinoko's ears then, so softly that she nearly misses it. A short and quiet tone that reverberates before fading away. She knows she's heard it before, but where?

Then some floats through the darkness in front of her, a soft green glow that's almost – no, it looks two-dimensional, like a display on a screen. Kinoko can hardly see it from the angle it's facing, a thin green line pointing upward and toward her right, and turned toward her only just enough for her to make it out. If it's like a screen, then Kinoko can tell that whoever's holding it is approaching from the front and to her left...

The green line pulses in time with the quiet tone from before, then turns just a hair and completely vanishes. Kinoko strains to hear anything that could give away what's about to happen. She'd get ready to run, but she knows she wouldn't get far.

As the tone seems to fill the void, and Kinoko's entire future along with it, another sound joins it, succinct but deafening in the quiet.

Tshk.

And then Kinoko's eyes water as a light appears in front of her. A small flame that would fit perfectly on a candle's wick, like the perfectly tiny cap of a shimeji.

The blank white space that fills the tiny light nearly makes her scream at first, but then it says something.

“Oh, thank ga-goom it's you, Komori,” whispers Fukidashi. (The lone member of class who's shorter than Kinoko!) “I thought you were the one making those-” Fukidashi emulates the high-pitched giggling that's been terrorizing Kinoko. “-noises. I saw somebody here, and I didn't know who, but I was super ready to blow out the light and whooosh away if I had to.”

Somehow, Kinoko breathes more easily now that someone else from class is with her. She still has no idea where she is, but at least she's not alone. “Yeah, I'm happy to see you too, Fukidashi. How did you find me-noki?”

Instead of speaking aloud, Fukidashi holds up the pulsing green screen, and Kinoko sees that it's not a screen at all; it's a ping onomatopoeia, Comic'd to life and sending out green ripples from the dot of the 'I' like radar. The ripples stop as they collide with her, and the air around the dot from which they originate lights up with another green spot. That must be her, of course. It's even picking up Fukidashi's surroundings, marked by larger splotches of that same neon green.

“Oh, that's neat,” Kinoko says. Now that she looks closer, the flame that Fukidashi created perches on the end of a small tshk sound effect, evidently acting as a match.

“It's like a maze in here, there's so much stuff,” Fukidashi continues softly. “I think it's a bunch of machines or some other mmm things. Do you know where anyone else is? I haven't seen anyone else in here at all.”

Kinoko shakes her head. “I got dumped here after...” She stops, unable to continue as her last moments in the classroom replay themselves. She's supposed to be safe in there, everyone is. It's U.A., after all. That's the...that's the guarantee.

And then that terrible fog man showed up and suddenly she was gone. So was everyone else, it seems. And now she doesn't know where she is, or where any of her classmates are, or...

When Kinoko keeps talking, her voice is small. “Do you think...the Heroes are coming to save us?”

Fukidashi waits a little too long to nod. “Y-yeah, yeah! They're our teachers. No way they'd let anything happen to us.”

Kinoko wants to believe that very badly. Even more than mushrooms. But it's hard right now, with only her and Fukidashi in the endless darkness.

“We need to get out of here, Fukidashi,” Kinoko says. She's scared, nothing can change that, but she can't change anything if she lets her fear keep her in place. Get somewhere brighter, then go from there. “How many more sounds can you make?”

She doesn't hear his reply, and it's the exact way that she doesn't hear it that makes Kinoko nearly panic. She hears the very beginning of Fukidashi's response, and then whatever he says next plunges downward into silence.

“I didn't hear you,” Kinoko says, and as the words leave her mouth, she hears them fade as well.

“Kino...” Fukidashi begins. Even with no face, she knows that he's terrified.

They stand there in silence – because what else can they do right now?

And the third voice speaks up.

“I can hear you.”

Only through luck do the two smallest members of Class 1-B manage a death grip on each other's hand as the light drops and goes out, and Kinoko and Fukidashi run and run, each one pulling the other.

The giggling starts again, chasing them both like a demon in the air hunting helpless prey below.

#

“Hey, that's not going to get infected, is it?” Itsuka asks. She glances at Tokage's right arm, which the green-haired girl has stuffed into her pocket.

Tokage shakes her head and manages a smile. “It shouldn't! Don't worry, I've been in way more pieces than this.”

As intact as Tokage looks now, she's already shown Itsuka that her hand got away from her when everyone was taken. “Have you sensed your hand around here yet?” Itsuka asks again.

“Nah, I guess it's still too far away.” Tokage chuckles, trying to sound genuine. “Good thing I'm a lefty, huh?”

Itsuka hums as the two girls come up on a corner and stop. She doesn't need to give instruction before Tokage's eye slides out of her head and floats over Itsuka's head, angling itself around the turn in the hallway.

“I don't see anything,” Tokage says from behind Itsuka. “You think everyone else is around here somewhere?”

“I think so,” Itsuka replies. “It wouldn't make sense for them to leave the two of us here and nobody else.”

She leaves out how difficult it's been to keep believing that in the midst of everything.

Tokage's eye floats back over Itsuka's head (she ducks, on instinct, to more safely avoid it), and the orange-haired girl feels a sudden pressure upon the top of her head; it feels, she decides in that moment, like how it would feel for gravity to come down just a little harder than usual.

One day, she'll have trained enough for signs like that to trigger her reflexes in an instant. But that hasn't happened yet, and after a moment of confused thought, Itsuka hears Tokage cry out, and then feels something come down hard on her and drive her to the ground.

Itsuka grunts as her shoulders strike the hard concrete floor. Through the pain that briefly blurs her vision, she sees her newfound burden – a small figure perched on her chest, barely larger than her torso, inscrutable through their hooded cyan cloak and the smooth dark gray mask covering their face. The figure regards her silently through their mask's large eyes, tilting their head like a curious creature.

After a few moments too long, Itsuka regains her wits, and with them the skill that she's honed over the years. Having a Quirk to make her strong was negligible if she wasn't strong enough herself. In a series of movements blended into a single moment, Itsuka grabs the hooded figure's right forearm and bucks her hips upward as hard as she can, yanking them to the left as she swings her right hand upward and strikes them in the armpit.

The person in the cloak flips off of Itsuka into the air, skidding across the floor before colliding with the edge of the hallway. Itsuka uses her existing momentum to roll onto her knees and shoots up to her feet. She's breathing heavier than she thought, and she forces herself into stillness.

“Kendou! Holy crap, are you okay?!” Tokage half-shouts. She's pulled herself into a pseudo-fighting stance, one that's not unimpressive for a girl without one hand. Her usual grin of audacity is pulled into something harder, more stressed.

“I'm fine, Tokage. Thanks for asking,” Itsuka replies. “Get yourself segmented. We've got a fight coming.”

If that declaration frightens Tokage, she doesn't let it show. The corners of her lips curl upward once more as pieces of her arms section themselves and float nearby, joined by her head that severs itself neatly from her neck. As she continues to deconstruct down her torso, the figure in the cloak rises again, planting their feet firmly, intently on the floor.

And then, Itsuka's feet leave the floor and she falls upward toward the ceiling. She and Tokage let out parallel cries of shock as they both fall upward – Tokage in pieces, and far faster than Itsuka. The cyan-cloaked figure soars past Itsuka as well, twisting around and throwing something back down toward the floor as they careen toward the top of the hallway.

Itsuka has enough time to register their deft landing before something tears across her bicep and sides, and stabs into her back. As she cries out against the pain now carving into her, Itsuka has time enough to see the long and thin points that fall past her toward the ceiling. They're darts, essentially, with tips narrowed to a lethal fineness; the Villain (because Itsuka can't think of the figure as anything else now) had thrown them downward as they'd fallen, so they would rain back up.

“Kendou!” Tokage cries, watching her ascent even in pieces. As the Villain draws another pointed tip from their cloak, Tokage's hand shoots forward to grab the Villain's wrist while the rest of her arms hurtle toward the hooded figure's head. She yanks hard enough to make them teeter, and her disembodied limbs batter them the other way. The Villain let out a grunt of pain and sways, briefly rattled.

In the moments that Itsuka has before hitting the ceiling, she gives Tokage her silent thanks and forces her mind to sharpen against the pain. She brings her hands in front of her, viewing the moments like frames of a movie, and enlarges them at the last instant before making contact. Her wrists ache from the shock, but it's a relatively safe landing.

Furthermore, as Itsuka's hands expand and collide with the ceiling, the results shockwaves of air and impact send the hooded Villain flying down the hallway. Itsuka remains buoyed in the air by her giant hands before falling backward onto her feet. She shrinks them back down to size – no point keeping them enlarged in a closed space – and locates Tokage, somewhat scattered as well by Itsuka's crash landing.

Itsuka grimaces. “You okay, Tokage? Sorry you got caught up in that. I didn't have time to think of better.”

“Nah, don't apologize for that!” Tokage says, her voice coming from the corner of the hallway where her mouth ended up. “That was awesome, Kendou! I was worried you'd...oh, you're bleeding.”

It's a light note of panic, but it's enough for Itsuka to come back to herself and feel the warmth trickling from the slits in her arms and sides, to feel the pain in her back and sides weighing upon her.

She forces herself upright. This isn't the time to be weighed down, not when she, Tokage, and probably their friends are in danger, and the Villain down the hall is rising back to their feet. “It's fine,” she says. “Let's wrap this up and keep going. We're getting out of here.”

And this time, as Itsuka and Tokage are pulled to the side against the wall, and then downward along it, they're both a good deal more ready for whatever is to come.

#

No one. There's no one else out and about. The classroom doors are all shut tight, and the hallways are silent except for the AC and Shihai's own footfalls.

Super.

Shihai scowls as he storms down the stairwell toward the first floor. Heroes – what's the fucking point if they're never there when you need them? Japan's supposed to be overrun with them, like an infestation of puppies. What do they do all day, stand around for the cameras?

Memories flood back against Shihai's best efforts. The wreckage of an office building on the news, Shihai's mom gasping in horror and trying not to cry in front of her son. Running through a hospital, seeing his dad laid up painfully in bed, shattered legs covered in casts. Watching the news later that night, featuring Heroes in flashy, colorful outfits, laughing along with the reporters during stories of the day's rescues...

Shihai's blood boils. Fucking worthless, the lot of them.

He bursts into the first floor hallway and leans over to catch his breath, clutching his knees. He still doesn't know where he's going or what he's looking for. Hell, he doesn't even know why he's bothering to look for anybody at all. What's his class ever done for him? The only three of them that he's really talked to are the wimp, the Size queen, and Kamakiri. And only one of them is any real fun to poke at.

“Excuse me, what are you doing out and about?” The voice shakes Shihai from his funk and makes him shoot straight up. Standing in front of him, right in the entrance to the cafeteria (that's lucky, Shihai was feeling hungry) is Lunch Rush, holding a ladle in one hand and giving him a thumbs down with the other. “Lunchtime isn't until the end of this period, young man! Hurry on back to your class before you miss anything important.”

The culinary Hero turns back toward his kitchen and walks away as Shihai sees a chance somehow dawning and fading to dusk also. “Damn, wait!” He blurts out, causing Lunch Rush to stop and turn back. “I-I got something for you!”

Shihai shoves his hand into his shirt pocket and yanks out the disembodied hand of Tokage. It catches on the lip of the fabric and flies across the space toward Lunch Rush, then bounces off his chest and lands on the floor.

As Lunch Rush screams, Shihai groans and prays to any listening higher power that this can finally be over with soon, for the promises of both lunch and finishing the day so he can go home and forget about all this.

#

Sen growls and pulls back his hand, grimacing as it flicks liquid concrete onto his face before it stops spinning. “Damn it, Honenuki, make it softer! It's still too thick!”

It had been cake for the two of them to bust out of that locked room once they'd beaten down the Villain that had been waiting for them. They'd softened the doorknob and deadbolt, then ripped it out and left whatever was left in the room to burn. But like hell Sen was going to waste time running through these hallways when they could just bust through the walls and make their own way out.

Honenuki stares back, unmoved. “I'm doing all that I can, Kaibara. This is the softest I can manage right now. It's up to you from here,” he says. The hard concrete wall in front of Sen and Honenuki sags as the skull-face has turned it to a muddy mess, but it's still clinging to the rest of the wall around it and it's a pain to drill through something so annoyingly thick.

And it feels terrible on Sen's fingertips, too. Damn it, if only he had some gloves.

“You think I don't know that? I'm trying, damn it!” Sen snaps. Damn that black cloud Villain that brought them here. Damn that...that fucking Midoriya. Whatever the deal was between those two, Sen didn't ask to get caught up in their bull. When Sen found that half-pint, he'd-

“DIE!” A Villain screams, swooping down through the hallway toward the two students. Honenuki turns and grimaces in pain, but Sen's fist cracks across the Villain's idiot batlike face as they careen past him, unconscious before they hit the floor.

Great. Now Sen's fist is killing him. It hurts to uncurl his fingers, and he only hopes that nothing's too broken.

Back to the wall. It still looms above him, a darkened square of softened stone that mocks Sen with its inability to just fall down already. He revs up his left arm, the one that didn't just take out somebody, and jams it like a drill into the gooey, muddy concrete.

The rotation of Sen's arm slows despite his best efforts to keep pushing, as his open hand captures the thick slurry and gets bogged down. He drives his arm deeper into the concrete and feels some more give around his hand once he's all the way up to his elbow.

“Any luck?” Honenuki asks.

Sen slowly tugs his arm back out (like quicksand, it pulls harder on his arm the harder he pulls himself) and shakes off as much of the concrete as he can once it finishes spinning. “Yeah...I found how deep this wall is. Just one thing...”

They both watch as the hole that Sen's arm hollowed out shrinks slowly as more of the concrete sinks down to fill the space. “Any ideas, special rec?” Sen asks.

Honenuki's straight face doesn't change, though he lets out a breath through his nose. His head tilts a bit, Sen guesses because he's thinking. Not that there's anything he can do, if Sen couldn't punch through it-

“WAIT, FRIENDS!”

They both jump as a booming voice shakes the wall from the other side, rippling the semisolid concrete and audible through the closing pinhole that Sen left.

Sen turns to Honenuki. “Did you recognize that voice?” He asks. Recognizing people has never been his thing.

Honenuki nods slowly. “Yeah, I think it was-”

He doesn't get a chance to finish before two massive claws puncture the top of the softened wall with a wet popping noise. The two boys have just enough chance to jump backward as those clawed hands tear downward through the concrete to rip it down like a shower curtain, and then an enormous form hurtles through the gap.

Towering over Sen and Honenuki, Shishida whips around until he spots them both. It's almost funny, except he damn near bowled them over. “SIRS HONENUKI AND KAIBARA! I'M SO GLAD I FOUND YOU!” Shishida thunders, sending the other two wincing and covering their ears. “I'VE BEEN SEARCHING FOR EVERYONE ELSE, AND WHEN I SAW SIR KAIBARA DRILLING THROUGH THE WALL, I KNEW THAT MY SEARCH HAD BORNE FRUIT!”

“Shishi-SHISHIDA!” Sen shouts, cutting off the beast boy. “You're blowing our ears out! Take it down like, five hundred notches!”

Suddenly, Shishida snaps back to himself, looking sheepish. “AH...ah, yes, of course,” he says in a much softer murmur that's still hella deep and bassy. “I'm terribly sorry, both of you. It's been a particularly stressful moment.”

Sen uncovers his ears rotates his shoulders the normal way to get out the kinks. “Yeah, no shit...” He mumbles under his breath, ignoring the way Shishida hears him and wilts slightly.

“What exactly happened to you, Shishida?” Honenuki asks, seeing a moment to play peacemaker. “Did you get dropped off somewhere with a Villain, like we did?”

Shishida bites his lip. The fangs in his huge lower jaw are like knives. “A few, actually. I believe I was deposited in a sort of records room? I'm afraid I didn't spend much time investigating once I knew that I wasn't alone. Once I transformed and defeated the Villains, I broke free and began making my way through the hallways in search of our classmates.”

“Did you find anyone yet?” Honenuki asks.

The bestial colossus that is Shishida taps his fingertips together in embarrassment. “I'm afraid not. I was pursuing a variety of scents through these halls, but I'd yet to encounter any of our allies before the two of you.” He cocks his large head. “By the way, have either of you come to any conclusions as to where we are? I've not seen enough of this place to understand what it is.”

“I don't think so,” Honenuki says. He raises a finger to his grinning teeth in thought. “Kaibara and I were released into a room filled with computers and a couple of server banks. We were attacked by a Villain with an oil Quirk, and it all went up in flames before we learned anything.”

Shishida nods slowly. “That would explain the smell of smoke in the air,” he says. “Are you both quite all right?”

“Pretty much,” Sen says. “Honenuki got licked, though.”

Honenuki nods grimly and turns enough for Shishida to notice the angry red burn across the top of his collarbone, and the singed edges of his uniform framing his upper back. Shishida lets out a doglike whimper at the sight.

“Kaibara and I were looking for a faster way through these halls,” Honenuki continues. “But drilling through them once I softened them wasn't doing much. We're lucky you came around, Shishida.”

“I'm always happy to grant my aid,” says the beast in question, looking morose.

Sen claps his hands, forgetting about the pain in his right hand until it's already sparked through his bones again. “Fuck, we gotta keep going,” he grunts through the pain, ignoring his classmates' looks of concern. “Gotta get out of here and find help. We can't waste time here while everyone's in trouble.”

“Yes, o-of course,” Shishida says, clearing his throat. “In the interest of covering ground, would you two object to being carried by me? I don't believe it should be an encumbrance.”

“That sounds wise,” Honenuki says. “Do you mind helping me up?”

The skull-face climbs up onto Shishida's shoulder with a little help from the man himself, and grips the fur on Shishida's back. “Kaibara,” he calls down. “Do you mind, um...”

“Yeah, yeah, I got it,” Sen grumbles. He jumps onto Shishida's back as well, staying a little lower than Honenuki and to the other side. Honenuki and Shishida have this covered – turn the walls soft and then rip right through. Sen's not needed now, unfortunately.

“Very well,” Shishida murmurs, about half to himself. “Let us be off then.” Before Sen or Honenuki can add on, Shishida throws back his head and roars, “GET READY, CLASSMATES! WE'RE COMING FOR YOU ALL!” And then they're off through the hole in the wall, screaming in wild ecstasy and wild terror all the way.

#

Kousei winces as another quake rocks the facility around him, and he wills himself to sink deeper into the broom closet. He's heard movement outside a few times already, and there's no way in hell that he's opening that door until...well...

Damn that Kamakiri. Kousei knew he was a grade-A assrag, but he thought he might at least stick around if certain important people were in danger.

Meanwhile, up near the ceiling in the hallway outside, a large horn floats silently through the air like a giant carrot. From atop it, Kodai and Tsunotori monitor the halls for any signs of life. Seeing nothing, they round the corner and fade from view.

#

As Komori and Fukidashi stumble around the corner, struggling to hold each other up, any tension between Neito and Tetsutetsu is momentarily forgotten. “Holy shit, are you guys okay?!” Tetsutetsu shouts as the two boys rush to meet their classmates.

They aren't okay, and it's quite easy to see. It's a wonder that they can still stand, with how their legs are shaking. Fukidashi has the worst of it, with his school uniform covered in burnt patches and hordes of mushrooms sprouting on the entire surface. He fights to remain standing with Komori's arm around with shoulder, and his speech bubble of a head has a darkening red splotch around the bottom, where anyone else's mouth would be.

And although Komori's uniform is relatively untouched, her crumpled posture and tightly pursed mouth betrays the terror that she feels. Her right foot drags just off the ground behind her, missing its shoe and evidently sprained. The mushrooms on her uniform are bunched around her collar, cuffs, and the holes of her pant legs, having grown out from beneath her clothing.

They both collapse onto Tetsutetsu, who catches them both as they wrap themselves weakly around him. “Tetsu...” Komori whimpers. “Good...we missed you so, so much...”

Fukidashi clutches him without making a sound.

Tetsutetsu straightens up, bearing their combined weight without much issue. “Hey, hey, it's cool. You guys are okay now,” he says, his ordinary gruffness smoothed into something mellow and soft. “We're getting outta this hellhole together, you hear me?”

Neito considers stepping forward to help, but he's sure Tetsutetsu would snap at him. Right now, nobody needs that.

It takes a while, as weak as Komori is, but she manages to share her account of everything. Running into Fukidashi within a dark and vast space, being pursued and terrorized by a Villain with a ventriloquism Quirk (her best guess), and the way that Fukidashi pushed himself and his throat far beyond his limit to stop their assailant.

They'd gotten lucky, with Komori sprouting mushrooms through the space as they ran and Fukidashi igniting them all at once to cover the factory floor in a blanket of fire. Then something had exploded in the darkness and well, Komori can't quite say what happened next. Only that they climbed up and out of there, and that they very badly want to leave.

The last part is a given, but she says it anyway.

“Hey, it's gonna be all right,” Tetsutetsu assures them both. “We're all together now! So let's bust on outta here and find some Heroes to save us all.”

“It's not going to be that easy,” Neito finally says, because it has to be said.

Even with his classmates on his shoulders, Tetsutetsu turns his head far enough that Neito sees that glaring corner of his eye. “What're you talking about? We can't stick around here! Don't you wanna get out?”

“Of course I do,” Neito snaps back. “But there was a window in the room where I ended up. It wasn't on the ground floor, and we've only gone upward from there. Even if we found another window, we're far too high up to just jump out of here.”

Tetsutetsu growls. “'S better than sitting around like chumps! D'you even know how much trouble we're in, copycat? Who even knows where we are, where anyone is, and you wanna-”

“I want to survive, you idiot!” Neito shouts. “Maybe you could hurtle yourself twenty feet to ground level and walk away, but most people can't, including me! I'm sure you don't care, since you've clearly shown that you're not willing to grant me the capability!”

Tetsutetsu steps back, mouth pulled open in surprise.

“I know I'm not like you, or the rest of our classmates. I know I can't fight on my own, you lunkhead!” Neito continues, fists clenched and breathing heavily than he usually lets himself. “I watch, I learn, and I think about my actions. I make plans! I can't be the same Hero as you, so that's how I compensate! Don't you dare-”

His voice breaks. “Don't you dare treat me as lesser for doing something that I need to do to survive!”

And then the hallway is quiet. Neito breathes to soothe the stinging in his throat, to try and relieve the heat pooling in his face. Everything is blurry for a moment and he doesn't know why until he blinks and feels the moisture in his eyes. He feels like a fool, knowing that he abandoned his control.

Tetsutetsu is half-turned toward him now, Komori and Fukidashi still hanging off him, looking struck. His mouth is pulled back tight and his eyes are wide, and the other two are hunched upon him.

Neito huffs, forcing down the regret in his stomach. “I...I'm sorry. That didn't help us any,” he says.

“...'S okay,” Tetsutetsu replies quietly, allowing his features to relax. “So...what do we do now?”

A few moments of silence go by, and then Neito looks up to see Tetsutetsu watching him. “Oh...we you actually asking me?” Neito asks, well and truly surprised.

Tetsutetsu shrugs as well as he can with two people on his shoulders. “Might as well,” he says. “These two are worn out, and I sure as hell don't have a clue.”

Perhaps Neito shouldn't be touched by such a vague compliment, but he doesn't bother resisting the good feeling it gives him. “All right. I suppose...some kind of signal? Something to draw the attention of people outside? It might let our classmates know where we are too, if they're nearby.”

Another minute passes as Tetsutetsu considers it. He seems to have stopped hating Neito for now, and that's a grand relief.

“Yeah, sounds good,” the metal boy concedes. “But even if we bust down a wall or something-”

“I just meant that we find another window.”

“Sure, but what do we do when we're there? Open it up and start screaming, 'We're from U.A., get us the hell out of here!'”?

“Fukidashi,” Komori adds. She points across Tetsutetsu's chest toward the speech bubble-head. “He's great at making loud noises.”

Fukidashi gives them all a thumbs up.

Tetsutetsu frowns. “But his throat's shot, right? So how...?”

He trails off as Neito draws closer to him, then moves slightly toward the shoulder where Fukidashi is resting. The speech bubble twists upward, still sagging and stained crimson.

Still, he doesn't move to drive Neito away. None of them do.

“Fukidashi?” Neito asks, extending his hand. “Mind lending me your aid? I can tell you're worn out, but maybe I can help in your place.”

Neito doesn't have to wait a second before a palm slaps into his own, and Fukidashi lets out a wet, rasping word.

“Boom.”

#

Shihai can't guess if anyone in U.A. ever expects to be called out of class by the lunch teacher, but when Lunch Rush comes knocking on Class 2-C's door asking for one Katchagiri Yosumi, the look on her face and all of her classmates is one of deep perplexity.

Is it insulting, that Lunch Rush carries so much less clout than his peers? Does Shihai care? Should he?

(Here's a hint – there's at least two no's in there.)

Lunch Rush pulls the arrowhaired girl into the teachers' lounge and receives her promise of discretion before giving her the brief details of where Shihai's classmates have gone. As if to present an embarrassing repeat of earlier, he takes care to spell out the effects of Tokage's Quirk before presenting the disembodied hand to Katchagiri. He also doesn't throw it at her, and that probably helps.

The Cook Hero apologizes for the inconvenience but admits that her Quirk is a necessity in this moment; Reconnect, the ability to draw parts of something back toward the whole, even over incredible distances. It doesn't take an honor's student, which Katchagiri might be and which Shihai certainly is not, to realize that the severed hand is the key to finding the missing students.

It's a surprise to Shihai that Lunch Rush has access to all of U.A.'s student medical records – ostensibly for allergies and other conditions, but also brimming with Quirk registration history. However, with the other teachers still in transit back to the academy, these are clearly desperate times. Besides, Shihai is too busy preening over saving the day to worry so much.

Katchagiri Yosumi agrees to help with some trepidation, then nervously takes Tokage's hand and holds onto it. After a moment's focus, she opens her eyes and points in the direction of the hand's missing body – straight out a window, a good forty feet up.

It's good enough for Lunch Rush, who flashes her a grateful thumbs up and beckons her out of the teacher's lounge and down the halls, promising to excuse her absence for the afternoon. Shihai trails behind, not formally invited but not dismissed either. Anything would be better than going back to that empty classroom or wandering the halls some more.

The odd trio moves briskly into the staff parking garage in the rear of the school, filled with cars that reveal all too much about the teachers driving them. Present Mic apparently drives a gaudy van promoting his own radio station. Ectoplasm drives an old Volkswagen Beetle, black with a grill like a full set of teeth. Vlad-sensei's spot is empty and never used, while Snipe drives a rugged pickup truck, good for him.

Amidst the collection of vehicles is a large box-shaped truck, with a closed shutter on one side that's surrounded by pictures which, as the distance closes, turn out to be pictures of well-plated dishes of diner cuisine—oh God damn it.

Lunch Rush pulls out his fob from inside his apron and clicks a button, and the food truck (because of course) beeps back. He hurries Shihai and Katchagiri inside and leaps into the driver's seat, cramming the key into the ignition and firing it up. Shihai holds onto some shelves above the cooking grill for dear life as the truck veers backward and then tears out of the garage.

Up in front, Katchagiri has buckled herself into the passenger's seat and clings to the door handle as Lunch Rush veers through traffic, clutching Tokage's hand and giving directions. Lunch Rush accepts them with one hand on the wheel and the other pressing his phone to his ear.

“Yes, it's me, Vlad,” Lunch Rush says, his usual chipper tone not entirely fading despite the situation. He hurls the steering wheel to the left and the truck spins around a corner; Shihai swears his feet leave the floor and Katchagiri shrieks, but Lunch Rush is entirely unfazed. “Yes...yes, we're on the chase. I...no, calm down, I found a girl from 2-C with a tracking Quirk. She has Tokage's hand, so we're—no, her hand. Would I sound this calm if Tokage was missing her—yes, Kuroiro is with us. He's the one who brought this to my attention. We're—let me ask.”

Lunch Rush turns around in his seat to face Shihai. “Your teacher wants to know if you're injured, Kuroiro,” he says, as though they aren't all barreling down a straightaway.

Shihai stares back. “What—turn back around! Jesus fuck!”

Lunch Rush seems unfazed as he spins back around in his seat, just in time to screech to a tumbling stop at a red light. “He's fine, Vlad. No worries there. Oh, you'd like to...well, we're still on our way. I don't know where to direct you—hold on.”

He turns to Katchagiri. “Which way are we going? Are we getting close?”

The General Education student points out the windshield and to the right, then nods. Her knuckles are bone-white. Hopefully she doesn't break anything in Tokage's hand.

“We're nearly there, Vlad,” Lunch Rush assures his coworker. The light turns green, and the truck roars through the intersection. The businesses and residential buildings outside thin out gradually as the Cook Hero steers into the industrial district of Musutafu, replaced by clusters of steam stacks and pipelines separated by empty roads.

Which, to Shihai's relief, means that the odds of dying in a car accident should have fallen now. He cautiously rises up to his feet, continuing to cling onto shelves and appliances for balance as Lunch Rush follows Katchagiri's pointing through the streets. Shit, if Lunch Rush doesn't get strung up for reckless endangerment on his own, Shihai may just turn him in, never mind that he's evidently trying to help for real.

Finally – after far too long of a drive – the truck veers to the side of the road and rolls to a far too gentle stop. Shihai nearly kicks the car door off its hinges in his mad exit, sinking to his knees on the asphalt and cuddling it. Never again. Never again.

Lunch Rush hurries out of the truck and lightly taps his foot against Shihai's side. “On your feet, Kuroiro. There's no telling what's inside that factory,” he says, pointing alongside Katchagiri to the lifeless factory towering and sprawling out before the three of them. From the outside, it looks like a ruin gone silent many years ago, untouched ever since.

But as Shihai and the others wait around for the other teachers to arrive, they can hear some faint rumblings among the interconnected warehouses.

And then, high up and farther away, part of the factory explodes into flame.

#

“Enough of that one.”

The four-eyed monster – three intact and one crumpled, seeping pale fluid – stares blankly ahead as more foul black sludge erupts from its mouth and engulfs it before imploding into nothing, just like the last two creatures.

“This is proving most illuminating,” the voice crackles over the loudspeaker. “I commend your performance, young Midoriya. My Noumu will benefit dearly from the information that you've provided.”

Izuku barely hears any of it. He's on one knee, lungs burning and his fingers bent and raw. He can feel the ligaments and sinews in his arms coming apart, feel the tendons in his chest and back searing as he pumps the foreign power of One for All through them. It has helped, he's learned, to spread the strength bestowed to him through more of his body, rather than centralizing it. In a better environment, he might take the time to theorize why.

But right now, it's taking everything to ignore the very real fear that he may never leave this place alive.

“Now then, we're about finished...just a final subject that requires tuning. Indulge us one last time, won't you?”

Izuku doesn't bother wasting words in the murky air, not when he aches for breath and adrenaline winds through his body like thread. A bead of that same rancid slime expands into a massive blob that dangles downward and connects with the floor before receding to reveal another monstrous form. It's larger than any of the others that Izuku has fought today, unless he counts the previous one after using its Muscle Augmentation.

Perhaps it looks larger than it is due to the four tendrils that extend from its back and wriggle blindly in the air. The creature – Noumu, the voice calls them, but Izuku can only think of them as monsters – slumps forward in wait for orders; none of them have engaged until instructed, and this is evidently not an exception.

“Final subject is Middle-End Noumu Subject Zero-Zero-Five. Code name, Tools,” the man on the intercom recites, and the Noumu automatically rises to its towering height. It glares down at Izuku through a visored helmet, hissing gagged by the metal tube in its mouth. “Deploy readied armaments and engage.”

The tendrils on the monster's back go stiff and bulge outward at their bases. Izuku doesn't have the time to process the change before the Noumu clambers forward, low to the ground with its arms stretched forward. He doesn't have time to plan anything more elegant than a rolling dive forward and to the left, past the Noumu as it surges by.

However, as Izuku flips back up to his feet, the tendril nearest him bulges at its tip, and a long drill bit explodes out like a lance. It brushes past him as he twists his upper half to the side, and without retracting, it begins to spin before whipping back the way it came.

The worst of it misses Izuku, but he still feels the spinning tip scrape against his stomach, pulling a cry from his chest as it carves a thin line on his skin. He stumbles backward, remaining crouched, and watches the other three tendrils bulge slowly from bases to points before bursting into sprays of liquid and metal. The drill tendril is on the Noumu's bottom-right, while the other three...

On the top-right, a dripping rivet gun. To the left of that, a shimmering chainsaw, and a backhoe scoop below that clangs open and shut like a ravenous metal mouth. The Noumu sways back and forth as the freshly molted tools wriggle in the exposed air.

Izuku doesn't panic – he did before, against the flying Noumu, and it did nothing but make him a more distracted opponent. Against the fear of further pain, of death, Izuku doesn't think he would notice any more fear regardless. Instead, he watches the hulking mass of flesh and steel, studying each of its new weapons while he has a quiet moment.

He expects the creature to surge forward again, and so misses the rivet gun point its shining muzzle toward him until mere moments before it begins to fire. Fueled by a combination of instinct and unconscious logic, Izuku stumbles onto his feet and hurtles forward and to the left again – in the same breath, the riveter shoots nuts at him like a gatling. He feels a few of the initial shots brush past his scalp and through his hair, then thankfully nothing. The Noumu's barrage swings wide as it attempts to track Izuku, granting him precious moments.

One for All sparks to life in Izuku's right side once more, but its warmth has long been overclocked into flame that scorches through his muscles and draws across his chest like a blade severing fibers. He fights to ignore the pain, ducking beneath the drill as it swings back over him and exposes the Noumu's torso.

And then Izuku grits his teeth and leaps forward, curling his crushed fingers into a fist as the muscles in his arm and chest fight to stretch upon his bones. He lets out a shout, spent well past the point of screaming his every 'SMASH!', and drives his arm toward the center of the Noumu's chest. As hardy as this one seems compared to the rest, a full-force Detroit Smash to the sternum should make it crumple with ease.

At least, until the Noumu snaps upward with one of its regular arms and cuffs Izuku in his own chest. He feels his ribs crack with a choked cry, and his arm continues forward but comes up short – Izuku's shoulder pops and he feels another stab of agony as he falls backward, struggling to breathe again.

However, the force of his punch continues onward, driving the air into the Noumu's torso like a pile bunker. It leaves the floor with a pained squeal and lands hard upon its back, while Izuku lands feet-first and has to roll backward into a crouch. He feels his right shoulder throbbing along with the rest of that arm, the whole thing turning dark and discolored before his eyes.

(If he returns from this, Recovery Girl will have his head.)

As soon as he's able, Izuku pushes off again. The Noumu begins lifting itself off the floor, and Izuku rears back with his left arm – sorely bruised, but otherwise functional – as it sits up. If he can close the distance, and drive another punch home into its body before it readies the riveter, he may have a chance...

Suddenly, the Noumu's backhoe swings toward him, a set of snapping and screeching jaws that fills Izuku's vision from the bottom up. He pumps One for All into his foot without thinking and pushes off the ground, out of the open scoop that surrounds him. Izuku's ankle snaps somewhere off in the distance, and the scoop catches the tip of his foot as it rises above.

His balance compromised, Izuku flails briefly before focusing on his left arm, curving over and downward past his shoulder with even more power coursing through it. The might of One for All crackles against his heart, a force far beyond the expansion and contraction of any one muscle. Izuku's heart doesn't stop, but the thought will return to him later.

The Noumu's chainsaw arm twists forward, but Izuku has already fallen past it and his fist, shining with a gifted light, crashes against the monster's shoulder.

Many things break, and though some of them belong to Izuku, more of them belong to the Noumu. It lets out a high and muffled scream and slumps forward, forcing Izuku back on his lone good leg (for a given definition of good, anyway). Blood and bone erupts from the left side of the Noumu's torso as it goes limp and hangs down like a sack of shattered glass. Both of its left tendrils hang down as well, chainsaw and backhoe breaking and screeching against the concrete floor and setting Izuku's teeth on edge.

The Noumu continues standing, but it's lost the use of half of its arsenal, and that dead weight will assuredly slow it down. Izuku continues standing, but he only has one arm and leg that are remotely functional, and he doesn't know if he could even leave this place in his current state. Somehow, he knows that the voice is watching – silent, calculating, enjoying the spectacle.

Izuku tries to fight back the tears that have been denied him this entire time, but the thought of his mom makes his vision turn watery for a moment. What will she be able to say, when the day is over? Will All Might's efforts to help him turn out worthless after all? He's read countless testimonies from Heroes who fought back from the brink, but none of them prepared him for this feeling. He was supposed to have time, at least.

The Noumu growls deep in its throat and stands as tall as it can. Its drill continues to spin, and its riveter turns toward Izuku once more. Izuku puts the slightest bit of weight onto his broken ankle to stand up taller as well, grinding his teeth at the pain. His left arm hurts, feels like its splitting into pieces, but he clenches his fist anyway. He tries to think, to plan for the next and likely final collision; perhaps he can force a little more out of his shattered parts, just enough to stay out of reach and finish this fight.

Can he jump over it? And land safely where its tendrils can't bend to land a final blow to the Noumu's spine? It's the best idea that Izuku has – if that rivet gun doesn't fill him with holes first.

He swallows, then gathers the last embers of his fighting spirit and funnels it into his fraying limbs. The heat returns, one final time, to save or unmake him. He doesn't know which.

And then...

BOOM

Izuku stumbles, fearing for a moment that the Noumu is on top of him, only to realize that it's equally shaken. Dust floods into the warehouse from beyond the shadows, and something stirs within.

A gigantic animalistic form covering its face with crossed arms.

“Shit, Shishida, I said give us a heads up!” A voice shouts. Izuku almost cries at the sound of it, even more so when a gigantic bestial form stumbles into the light, covering its face from the dust.

Kaibara climbs over Shishida's shoulder and glares at the side of his head. “You almost left us behind again, y'know!”

“Apologies, Sir Kaibara,” Shishida says, uncrossing his arms “I was attempting to abandon my reason, as Lord Hound Dog-sensei would, and—”

Shishida lifts his head and stops facing Izuku. “S-Sir Midoriya!” He booms, grinning despite the situation. “Thank goodness you're...” His eyes fall upon the Noumu with horror. “What on Earth is that?”

Kaibara clambers up Shishida's shoulder and glares at the side of his head. “Hey, don't ignore me, you fur...Oh.” He glowers at Izuku, ignoring the monster across from him.

“What's going on?” Tsunotori's voice chimes in as she rounds past Shishida's bulk. “Izuku! You're okay!”

“Guys...!” Izuku croaks, his voice breaking in his throat.

Then, in that moment of distraction, the Noumu lurches forward with its drill. It doesn't make it to Izuku before a wave of thick white fluid crashes into it and pins it to the floor. Honenuki appears from nowhere and follows up by turning the warehouse floor into liquid concrete with a rippling of his Quirk, allowing the Noumu to sink halfway into the ground before he hardens the floor around it.

“Thanks, Honenuki! That was close!” Bondo sighs, wiping the glue from the top of his head. “Midoriya, you okay? You look real banged up.”

Others join in, filtering through the hole in the wall – Kendou and Tokage, Kodai and Tsuburaba, even Kamakiri, who stares at the trapped Noumu with bloodlust in his eyes before Rin grabs the back of his collar and holds him still.

Izuku struggles to assure himself that what he's seeing is real, that his classmates have come for him and that he's not clinging to a fruitless final hope before his death. It's so much that he can't make his voice work, so instead, he nods and lets out a watery sob and feels all of the pain that he's been putting off catch up to him in an instant.

He sinks to the floor and hears people cry out his name as he slips into blissful darkness.

#

Well, that was certainly a...disappointing ending. Tomura would have been spitting with fury, demanding that the fight between the Noumu and All Might's successor be permitted to carry on to its undoubtedly bloody end.

However, there's knowledge to be gained even from incomplete experiments. The Doctor will be pleased to receive further modifications to apply to his Artificial Human creations.

(Although, being that they're the product of perfectly human bases, can they be considered artificial after all? Frankenstein's creature was certainly ignorant upon his awakening, but he had desires and emotions, was intelligent and articulate to a woefully rare degree. What right does society have to judge these new lives, aside from so many centuries of practice?)

Wing requires further adjustments to its agility and stability in mid-flight; even young Midoriya, as unbalanced as he was at the start, had managed to catch it while diving a few times, and it was doomed to fall once a either wing was damaged beyond regular movement. Improved durability as well, then, and perhaps some form of claws or natural weaponry.

It shouldn't be an issue, as the Doctor seems to enjoy working on that Noumu in particular.

Eyeless may prove a waste of that Super Regeneration if it can't be further improved, and Web needs additional measures to ensure its continued survival – its current level of Muscle Augmentation is unsatisfactory. Enhance that, and perhaps add another defensive Quirk, they've no limit of those...

And Tools has proven too simple-minded to effectively wield weapons beyond brute physical force. Granting it a rivet gun for ranged combat and a scoop for restraint is pointless if it can neither aim nor adequately capture anything. Replace those with further physical armaments, perhaps more of the drill and chainsaw, and see if it isn't capable of wielding more than four simple weapons.

That seems like a decent summary of improvements to present. The Doctor always works best when left to his own devices regardless. As for Midoriya Izuku...

He is not weak. Countless fools would claim as such – if somebody with a strength Quirk can't even spare their own body the backlash – but he continued fighting despite increasing damage to himself and compensated with ingenuity. It is no small feat, to read your opponents' capabilities and deduce their weak points so effectively. (But then, the eye is rarely anything more than a weak point.)

Yes, All for One thinks with a smile, this was not a wholly disappointing exercise. Testing is an imperative part of the development process, and information as a resource exceeds material assets. Tomura will be well and wanting to act again in due time; until then, preparations are to be made and knowledge is to be gathered further. In the meantime, Midoriya Izuku and his academy will have their hands full with that factory they so callously destroyed.

A shell corporation would make tracing it back to him an ordeal at best, but All for One has always hated loose ends regardless. And they did an exemplary job destroying that place, where the Doctor once produced his supplies; whatever remains will be disposed of on the city's yen. As if there had never been hide nor hair of anything suspicious in the first place.

And that, All for One thinks with a sickly grin, is exactly how he has always preferred it.

Chapter Text

Less than a week since Izuku has begun life at U.A., and Inko already finds herself dreading the school's phone calls.

There haven't been many – a few right up front, mostly standard procedure to verify information about the new students – but Inko's stomach goes cold every time she sees U.A.'s number lighting up the screen of her phone. Is Izuku okay? Is he doing well yet, making friends? Or is he being bullied, getting injured? Worse?

She loves her son. With Hisashi overseas, Izuku is the only family of hers that she can reach out and hold with the tips of her fingers. It brings her joy to see his desire, his innocent childhood wish to be a great Hero, being realized after so many years of denial. And she's trying to support him now, to make up for some of the disappointment that she's sure that she placed unwittingly upon his shoulders.

Inko wants to see her son become a Hero. Such a kind, intelligent, and considerate boy, she's certain that he'll be amazing one day.

But for now, every message from the school makes her heart stop and then race until she listens to it.

And for now, she finally, horribly, has a reason to feel fear.

She barely remembers the drive to the hospital, except that it seems to take a lifetime. The receptionist kindly smiles and assures her that despite Izuku's injuries, her son is stable and being seen to by a medic. Recovery Girl – Inko thinks that Izuku mentioned her when he came home from his entrance exam; she was one of the only things that Izuku would share about that day.

When Inko learns that Izuku is stable – that he'll live and recover fully – she comes back to herself at last. The clouds around her mind disappear and her awareness fills her body once more. Things feel real again.

And then the receptionist comforts Inko as she sobs. She doesn't know if it's from relief or fear or guilt or who even knows what else.

She takes a tissue to wipe her eyes and turns to find a chair to settle down into. The hospital waiting room is shockingly quiet, considering how full the seats are. More than half of the atrium is occupied by a group of well-dressed people of many shapes, colors, and sizes. The chairs don't seat them all the same; a couple of the larger men are visibly curled inward to fit between the arms.

They're all watching her, and Inko feels foolish. She wipes her eyes again. “Oh, I'm sorry,” she says. “I didn't mean to bother any of you. My son is in here, and I've just been so worried...”

More of them jump to their feet than she'd expected, all with some comfort to give. They practically scramble over each other to assure her that everything's okay. Up close like this, Inko realizes that...

They're all so young. All teenagers, they must be. And they all look so sad and scared – even the ones that looked intimidating from across the room look like nothing worse than boys and girls in desperate need of help.

Inko feels embarrassed once more, for a different reason this time. Izuku will be fine, there's nothing she can do about that, and here she is getting the floor wet when these children – none of whom are crying like she just was – need someone to take care of them. Scared or not, she's a grown woman and a mother, and she can't abide the thought of leaving these kids alone.

As she blinks away the last of her tears, one of the girls smiles at her and speaks up. Her dark green hair falls in waves down to her shoulders. “Uh, hi? I heard you all the way up at the desk. You're Midoriya's mom?”

Inko blinks, surprise blooming in her chest. “Yes, how do you...” Her eyes widen as she takes a closer look at their uniforms. “Oh, are you his friends from U.A.? He's told me a little about you already, but I didn't think I'd meet you here...”

“Friends is premature,” scoffs a dark-skinned boy. The girl with thorny hair next to him shoots him a glance and calls him 'Kuroiro' as if to scold him.

“Classmates, at least,” a blonde boy adds. His smile is easy but thin. “We have only known one another for a few days yet. But Midoriya, well, he's certainly made a swift impression.”

As some of the other students mumble in agreement, Inko wonders what that could mean. She knows that Izuku, bless him, has always been a tenderhearted boy despite his lofty dreams. Nobody his age should have to face all of the challenges that he's struggled with given his lot in life.

He's always tried to hide his pain from her, but Inko has seen more than her son realizes. She let Izuku grow up with his space, but it pains her sometimes to think that his life should have been easier, had she tried harder to help him.

Inko settles into a chair and continues to speak with the retinue of Class 1-B. They prove very quickly to be a fascinating and welcoming group of students. She can see through even small interactions with one another that some of them have already grown close – for example, the way that Komori's shyness wanes a little bit when the other girls complement her, how the large, scruffy-looking boy demurs to his smaller friends, or that those surrounding the girl with horns correct her Japanese gently and without judgment.

She listens to the children as they try to explain what happened to them this afternoon – it's hard for Inko to keep down her fright when an entire class of students was abducted under the noses of their instructors.

(They were away on emergency, some of them tell her, but that just means that they were left alone when they were taken away.

It is inspiring, however, to hear that this group of young Heroes fought so hard to escape, even though Inko would prefer that it never have been an issue.)

Thankfully, enough of them understand that talking about Izuku's injuries will only upset Inko, so instead they talk about some of their other classmates. The handful that required more care than the rest.

“Fukidashi hurt his throat,” says Bondo, staring down at his hands cupped in his lap. “Kendou got stabbed a bunch, Kaibara broke his hand, and Honenuki got second-degree burns on his back.”

Even if the names themselves don't mean much to her, Inko understands enough from how everyone wilts as their friends are listed off.

“They told me a healer was looking at them when I asked,” Shouda adds, not seeming all that happier from the knowledge. “But I still don't know how long it's going to be.”

“I can only speak for my son,” Inko begins. “But the receptionist said that he would be out soon enough. They're treating him quickly due to the severity of...of his injuries.” She forces down the hitch in her throat; she can break down again later, away from these kids. “If that's so, then I can't imagine that the others would be far behind.”

That does seem to lift some of the weight from their shoulders. Every little bit helps at a time like this.

“I'm very glad to hear that. I still need to thank him for earlier,” says Monoma, whose smile turns into something softer.

“Yeah,” Tetsutetsu huffs. “Guess we need to talk about some stuff, too.”

“I'm simply relieved to learn that his recovery should be expedited,” Yanagi adds, and much of the class agrees.

Inko listens to all of this with a mounting sense of wonder. She isn't at all used to hearing Izuku's classmates speak of him. “Is he...I'm sorry, I just need to know. What do you all think of him so far?”

There's a pause as everyone considers this. Inko worries that she's put them off, and how that might affect Izuku...

“He's tough,” Tetsutetsu says. “No lie, he throws punches like freakin' All Might, but he's a real good guy too. Gotta respect that.”

“Yes, that's true. He's very quiet, but also kind and respectful,” Shishida adds shyly. “I'm honored to have him as a companion.”

“He doesn't seem to think a lot of himself,” Rin says. “He told us that he thought he was Quirkless until a little while ago?”

It takes Inko a moment to realize that he's looking at her for an answer. “Oh, yes! He—he came up to me one evening and said that he had been training down at the beach, and he found that he had super strength.”

Inko smiles. She can still remember that moment vividly. Izuku had been so nervous – he'd been keeping it a secret until he was sure, in case he'd end up disappointed again. She hadn't understood what he meant at first, when he said that he'd realized that he was stronger. That he finally had a Quirk of his own.

Soon enough, though, Inko had been in tears, which meant that Izuku went to tears as well, and they held each other and nearly flooded their apartment together.

She nearly feels herself tearing up now, but keeps it to herself. “I was...well, I was worried about him a little, but being a Hero has been his only dream for so long. As his mother, I can't help but be so happy that he's finally getting his chance.”

“Mom...”

It's so quiet that Inko thinks that she imagined it, but then she looks around and sees the rest of her son's class looking past her, excitement dancing in their eyes. She stands up and turns and...

He's still wearing a hospital gown, and he's leaning harder onto one leg than the other, but Izuku looks back at her with shimmering eyes.

The rest of Class 1-B has the grace to allow Inko and her son to hold each other and cry for a while, before approaching Izuku themselves with joy and relief shining in their own eyes as well.

#

The gym door swings open with a loud clatter, putting an end to the calm silence within the building. Kan trudges inside with heavy footsteps, followed behind by Ectoplasm's sharp and pointed footfalls. The late afternoon sun pours in from the windows high above, bathing the inside of the gym in a soft, ambient glow.

Kan doesn't bother with the lights, nor does he raid the storage closet for equipment. He simply walks over to one of the large wrestling mats set into the floor of this particular gym and stands to one side, waiting for Ectoplasm to join him.

The Spectral Hero follows Kan onto the mat, his pace unhindered by the change in terrain. He faces Kan from the other side of the mat and says, “I have to ask, you know, if you're sure about this. Do you really think this is going to help?”

When Kan doesn't answer, Ectoplasm sighs and coils his body atop his prosthetic legs, preparing for whatever move he needs to make next.

“...I just need to blow off some steam,” Kan finally says. His gruff voice is hard and resolute, and his eyes betray nothing of his true intentions.

(They don't need to – Ectoplasm has probably read him like a book already.)

Kan hinges at the waist, bending toward the mat with his legs spread and his hands held at level with his shoulders. Ectoplasm breathes in deep and heaves a sigh, and with that sigh comes the thick white liquid from which he found his Hero name. The cloud molds itself into a trio of Ectoplasm clones, each identical to the original in appearance and wary demeanor.

They've barely finished forming when Kan surges forward and backhands the one in the middle, its head bursting into ectoplasm as it crumples. The other two clones rush to meet him in a pincer movement; rather than retreat, Kan crosses his hands in front of him and wills the blood in his arteries to move. It gushes in crimson spurts from his gauntlets and strikes both clones in the chest, stalling them midstep.

And then, at Kan's command, the fountains of red engulf Ectoplasm's copies and implode, crushing both of them. They're quickly replaced and then some by the Spectral Hero, who continues to watch Kan from the other side of his band of duplicates. With the helmet covering his face, Ectoplasm's thoughts are as veiled as ever.

No matter. Kan isn't here to think. He's here to bleed.

He doesn't allow his motion to waver for an instant – pull the blood back, block a kick, shove it away, turn and punch, punch, punch again, grab the enemy by the head and drive blood spikes into them, kick them backward into their friends, pivot away, pull the blood back and thrust it forward in a wave of red, charge through the blood with a tackle, keep moving, keep fighting-

Kan drives forward again with a powerful fist, but there's nothing there. He stops, considers, and then turns to face Ectoplasm. “What's wrong? I'm not ready to stop yet,” he says.

Ectoplasm's breath is heavier than Kan would expect from someone who hasn't been fighting himself.

“I'm almost at my limit, Vlad,” Ectoplasm says, his rasping voice betraying the slightest hint of exhaustion. “Haven't you been keeping count of how many clones you've beaten?”

He hasn't, but Kan shrugs it off. “It hasn't been that long. You can keep going, can't you?”

He receives an irritated look in response. “We're not all in the prime of our lives here, Vlad. I think I know my body better than you do.”

Ectoplasm steels himself and stands up straighter. “I hope this brought you at least a little relief. I'm going to get some work done,” he says, and turns to leave.

Unfortunately for Ectoplasm, Vlad King isn't finished, and though Kan will feel remorse later, right now the blood flows from his gauntlets with such force that his arms grow cold beneath his armor. Ectoplasm glances back and flinches in shock as the twin streams of crimson bend backward and split into multiple long, thin tendrils that twitch in the air like fingers.

Skeletal Thirsting Hands, Kan would call it, if he had the desire to speak its name. Instead, his teeth grit and his eyes widen – looking nearly reddened themselves – as he charges to close the distance. He swings his arms forward as he moves, and the many streams of blood lash forward like so many whips toward Ectoplasm, his unlucky foe.

But unlike most of Kan's foes, Ectoplasm isn't too shaken to react. Too quickly to register the oncoming dread, the Spectral Hero drives a bulge of ectoplasm up his throat. Rather than forming bodies as it bursts from his mouth, the ooze spirals outward into an amorphous mass of limbs and other semisolid body parts that fills the air between the two Heroes. The fingers of blood clash against the thick whirlpool of sludge and are drawn into it, dragged into the spiral and staining all of the half-formed bodies a brilliant red.

(This, meanwhile, is Uzumaki Plasmer. An excellent maneuver for intercepting foes and restraining them in clone matter, although Ectoplasm has never favored the strain upon his own body.)

Kan fights to keep from being pulled in, and allows the tendrils of blood to break instead, freeing himself and pulling back what little of his blood remains untethered. Before he can respond, the vortex of ectoplasm breaks at its eye, and an enormous fist fills his vision. The blow to his front sends a miserable shock of pain through Kan's body as he flies backward and strikes the gym floor, rolling to a stop.

(Finally, Partial Giant Detention – an offshoot of Ectoplasm's Giant Bite Detention that conjures only a single part of a giant clone.)

Kan lays on the floor for a moment before fighting through the pain to sit up. As he forces air back into his lungs, he hears a painful retching sound and returns to himself instantly. Ectoplasm kneels on the wrestling mat, bent over and dry heaving with eyes and mouth wide open.

Very clearly, he's fighting to keep the insides of his stomach where they're meant to be.

Kan still feels numb as he rises to his feet and begins to walk forward. “Ectoplasm, are you-”

“Don't!” The Spectral Hero says, turned inhumanly sharp as he gags in the middle of it. Kan watches him convulse as shame renders him weak.

He lost control – almost hurt his fellow Hero and coworker. If nothing else, the strain of producing so much clone matter has ravaged Ectoplasm's stomach. It doesn't get to that point often, but Kan at least knows that Ectoplasm's Quirk has that consequence. And today, he pushed him there with a callous disregard.

Slowly, carefully, and rather painfully, Kan rises to his feet and approaches his fellow Hero. Mercifully, the mat around Ectoplasm remains clean – aside from the residue of many destroyed clones – and the Spectral Hero continues breathing deeply through his mouth to keep anything from coming up.

(Kan's Quirk has its own drawback to contend with; that last great attack drew out a lot of blood that he couldn't retrieve, and there's a chill in his forearms that reaches down to the bone. But at least he deserves that pain.)

“Are you going to be okay?” Kan asks, kneeling slowly to meet Ectoplasm at eye level. “Need me to take you to Recovery Girl?”

Ectoplasm continues taking heavy breaths, wincing slightly as the pain in his stomach ebbs and flows further. “Think...I'll be fine,” he manages. “Wouldn't mind, ugh...seeing her still.”

With some help from Kan, Ectoplasm drapes his arm over the Blood Hero's broad shoulders, and they both rise to their feet. They set a slow pace out of the gym, careful not to jostle Ectoplasm's stomach any further.

“I'm sorry,” Kan rumbles, voice deep with regret. “I just...after everything that happened today, I...” He trails off. Even without this new mistake that he's made, Kan feels the shame and self-pity both hot and boiling in his stomach. His class was taken, from under the noses of literally everybody, and he wasn't there. He wasn't even close.

“It's not your fault,” Ectoplasm says quietly. They pass through the door out of the gym, into the cool afternoon air. “Everyone was in danger today. You couldn't have known.”

“They're my students,” Kan says. “It's my job to keep them safe. What kind of teacher am I to leave them helpless and alone when they needed me?”

It's hard not to feel a little bitter, when Class 1-A emerged from their predicament largely unscathed and Kan's students are in the hospital. He already knows they'll be fine, but they wouldn't be there at all if he'd only acted different.

“Don't,” Ectoplasm whispers – quiet, simple, and resolute. “Don't do that. You'll never stop.”

With that, they continue in silence toward the main building, which slowly towers over them and shimmers in the late day sun. It is pointless to blame himself, Kan understands. It won't change what happened to his students or help them now that they need him. But hindsight makes even the unknowable seem like a terrible lapse in judgment.

“The principal...” Ectoplasm begins eventually. Once he seems sure that his stomach is settled, he continues. “What do you think of his decision?”

Kan thinks back to the emergency meeting from earlier today and sighs through his nose. There had been a lot, a whole lot, of dissension within the staff in the aftermath of today's incidents. Kan was right there at the forefront, demanding that they prioritize the health and mentality of his students rather than delaying it for other matters.

Unfortunately, the principal made it very clear that canceling or postponing the Sports Festival is not an option – in the wake of U.A.'s failures, they need to appear stalwart and persevere to assuage a worried public. There will be counseling available going forward, but the students will already be balancing schoolwork and preparing for the Festival for the next couple weeks, and internships will follow.

They're being granted the rest of today and tomorrow off, to recuperate and to allow the school to plan, but that means that their schoolwork will only accumulate further once they return.

Even more upsetting is that Eraserhead vouched for Principal Nedzu's decision. Kan forces down a furious growl. “I have my misgivings,” Kan says at last, choosing the path of diplomacy. “I feel as though we're treating our students' well-beings as secondary to this...social spectacle. They need help, not to be paraded around.”

Kan walks carefully up the steps to the school's front entrance, ensuring that Ectoplasm doesn't stumble. The inside is cool and quiet, and Kan is grateful that he doesn't have to explain this scene to anyone.

“That's a very sensible view,” Ectoplasm says. “But people will be afraid once they hear that both first-year Hero classes were attacked by Villains. We were all on school grounds, and yours was in their classroom. And they still weren't safe.”

Ectoplasm sighs, deep and slow. “So I do understand the principal's rationale, even if I sympathize with yours, Vlad. We'll simply need to...to go beyond in our own efforts to protect them all.”

“...Plus Ultra,” Kan says, deeply sardonic.

Ectoplasm's weight shifts on Kan's shoulders, as the Spectral Hero leans off of him and onto his prosthetic legs a little more. “We still have time to beef up security before and during the Festival. I'm sure we can rope a fair more agencies into providing support.” He thinks for a moment. “I'm certain Ingenium would gladly lend his alma mater a hand. His younger brother is in Eraserhead's class.”

“Iida Tenya,” Kan replies, picturing the young man crushing robotic carapaces during the Entrance Exam. “I've caught myself wishing he had ended up in my class.”

At that, Ectoplasm just scoffs. “Oh, I don't think your students would take him very seriously.”

With that, they've made their way to Recovery Girl's infirmary. Before Kan can reach for the door, it opens from the other side. A towering, lanky blonde fills the doorway, while Recovery Girl yells from behind.

“...at every snarling colossus anymore! You have students, that boy-” She stops, catching sight of the other two beyond the door. “Oh! Hello, you two. Do you need anything?”

All Might turns after her and blinks, surprised. “Hey, are you two okay? You're not looking good.”

“Preaching to the-” Ectoplasm gags. “-choir, Yagi.”

The promise of a sick coworker sends All Might swiftly down the hall. Inside the infirmary, the elderly nurse has Ectoplasm settle onto a bed while she inspects him. Naturally, Kan makes sure to exit before Ectoplasm shares the circumstances of his condition – he only hopes that when he goes in himself soon enough for a blood transfusion, Recovery Girl won't make him pay too dearly for it.

#

All Might pulls out his phone despite himself. The chain of sent and unread texts dangles upon the screen.

[All Might]

Young Midoriya, are you all right? I heard about what happened to your class.

I'm so sorry I wasn't there for you.

Young Midoriya?

Hello?

You must be occupied. My apologies.

They didn't tell me much more than the basic idea. I'm just a little worried is all. I hope you're okay.

Knowing you, you've found a way to take care of yourself.

I'm okay. What happened at the USJ was more than I expected, but I made it out.

So did everyone else, btw.

I need to talk to you about something, though. Something kind of big.

He regrets sending that last message. Midoriya must have plenty on his mind already, with all that happened today. The boy doesn't need more stress.

All Might tries to blink away the memory of those frightened faces at the USJ, the looks of horror on those children's faces as they beheld the true, terrible sight of All Might's body – barely standing, irreparably damaged, and stained with too many people's blood.

It doesn't work. They know – not the entire class, but too many. Bakugou, Asui, Kaminari, Awase, Kirishima, and Todoroki. One student would be bad enough, let alone six. Maybe even eight, if Shouji and Uraraka haven't let go of what they saw.

(Or... Kaminari seemed pretty out of it, and there's no guarantee that Uraraka and Shouji still believe in what they glimpsed. That would only be five students – maybe seven, if the former doesn't count but that latter two do. So... five to eight students know his secret.)

...It's not any better, no matter how All Might does the math. He's starting to regret telling the principal that he'll share the truth with them once Aizawa recovers. This truth, that the Symbol of Peace is a rapidly waning lie, could destroy them. Shatter their resolve and drive them away from being Heroes, from society entirely.

But Nedzu was right. This needs to be contained. He can't let them wander around, carrying knowledge like this with none of the context.

DING!

All Might's phone jingles in his hand, and he nearly drops it in shock.

[Young Midoriya]

Hi.

Sorry I took so long to respond. They were looking at me for a while.

I'm okay now. They healed my arms and legs and said that I should be fine if I take it easy.

All Might heaves a sigh of relief, along with another spray of blood. Young Midoriya is all right. After everything, he really needed a pick-me-up like that.

What did you want to talk about?

It takes a moment for All Might to remember what he means. He frowns and makes a decision, typing out a response.

It doesn't matter right now. Just take care of yourself.

How's the rest of your class?

A few minutes pass as Midoriya types a slow response.

They're okay. A few of the others got hurt, but they're all being discharged.

What happened at USJ?

All Might doesn't want to answer that, not after today, but Midoriya will worry otherwise.

Some Villains got in and tried to attack everyone. The students are all unharmed.

And that's what matters now. Aizawa and Thirteen got it worst, but they'll be all right too.

The five spots on All Might's neck where that Villain touched him are numb, the nerves left dead from the attack. Recovery Girl said they would have to see if that would heal on its own, but All Might knows that he's lucky. He isn't used to claiming that title for himself.

The attacks on both of our classes. They're connected, aren't they?

The black mist Villain said that I wasn't where they thought I'd be. They meant 1-A, right?

Huh, that's new. All Might remembers the Villain in question, but if they were targeting Young Midoriya specifically, then that raises a lot more questions. There's only one reason All Might can consider that would make the young man a priority target.

You haven't told anyone about One for All, have you?

No, I swear! Even my mom still doesn't know! Some of my classmates thought my super strength was kind of like yours, but I didn't tell them either, I promise!

I've been using the lie you told me to say. I'm sure no one else knows.

Okay... okay. He can trust Young Midoriya. The boy understands the significance of the power he's been given. He wouldn't risk anyone else's life by pulling them into the secret.

But that just raises the question of why Midoriya was a target at all. All Might trusts the few other people with whom he's shared the truth. The Principal, Recovery Girl, Gran, Tsukauchi... even Nighteye, despite everything. Could anyone else...?

No.

But-

No.

No.

It's not possible. It's not.

The others are being discharged now. I kind of want to greet them. Is that okay?

All Might is shaken back to reality, and breathes out his surge of fear in a heavy sigh. No, he can't get ahead of himself now. Not so soon after everything went awry.

Perfectly fine. Take care of yourself, Young Midoriya. I'm proud that you made it through something so harrowing. I'm just sorry you went through it alone.

After a few moments of silence, All Might pockets his phone and starts toward Nedzu's office. He does need to share the concerns he's developed, but he can't get caught up in worst-case scenarios. He should have been there for Class 1-B as well, but everyone is alive, and everyone will recover.

He makes a mental promise to speak Young Midoriya this Saturday, when he's back on school grounds. He'd be most comfortable getting to speak to the boy face-to-face, rather than through a screen. But for now... the school has a lot of planning and damage control to handle.

#

Kendou is the first one sent out after Izuku. Shouda lets out a cry as her bright orange hair comes into view, and the rest of the class leaps out of their chairs to meet her. She greets the mob with a tired smile and a look of relief.

“Seriously, thanks guys, but I'm okay,” she assures everyone with gentle laughter. “Tokage, tell them it wasn't that bad.”

The dark-haired girl in question pounces from the crowd and cuddles against Kendou like a child with a doll. “Don't make me relive the memory, Itsuka! I'm so happy to not have a tragic backstory now!”

Izuku hangs back as everyone else chatters. Kendou is trying to look unaffected, but he got a quick glimpse of her. It was enough to see how she pulls against the stiffness caused by the pinpoint scars beneath her sleeves, and maybe other places too.

The rest of the class trickles into the lobby one at a time. Fukidashi comes next, clutching a thermos and holding up a small sign assuring his classmates that yes, he's fine – just under orders not to speak for a few days. After him comes Honenuki, who politely asks Tsunotori not to hug him too hard lest she aggravate the new layer of skin growing on his back.

(He's just a little too late for that, but when Tsunotori backs off with a flurry of apologies, Honenuki takes it in good form.)

Finally, Kaibara ambles into sight, wearing a blue cast over his hand. Even he can't help but smile some as he joins the rest of his class. Finally, they're all together again.

Once the celebration fades, the twenty of them are left in the hospital waiting room. None of them want to think much more about the incident today; Lord knows they've already done enough of that. They all look around at one another through the quiet, only able to agree that for the moment, they're all alive.

“So...what now?” Rin asks. “Do we just go home?”

Kuroiro shrugs. “Sounds like fun. Catch all you guys tomorrow,” he says, turning flippantly toward the exit before Kodai stops him in place.

“I know what I wanna do now,” Kaibara says, drawing everyone's attention. He pushes through the group and stops right in front of Izuku. “Hey, Midoriya. That mist guy wanted you for the League of Villains. What the hell was he talking about?”

Kaibara only has a couple inches on Izuku, but his irritation makes Izuku feel much smaller. The rest of the class focusing on him as well doesn't help.

“I-I don't know,” Izuku stammers, cowering backward. “I never heard of a group named-”

“Don't bullshit me!” Kaibara's good hand snaps out and grabs Izuku's shirt. “They knew your name! We could've died today because of you! Tell us now!”

“Hey!” The receptionist cuts in before anyone else can. “No rough-housing in the waiting room! Take it somewhere else, or I'll call security!”

Kaibara freezes in place long enough for Shishida to walk up and gently pull them apart. “Fighting each other isn't going to help us at all, Sir Kaibara,” he says. “Not after everything we've faced today.”

“I agree,” Shiozaki adds. “However, I also must acknowledge Kaibara's honesty.” She turns toward Izuku as well, but at least stays where she is. “Midoriya, why did that unholy Villain seek you specifically? Did they mean to recruit you for a special calling?”

“Did it really give you guys a 'seeking' feeling?” Tsuburaba asks. “All I got was a 'I'm-gonna-drag-you-guys-into-Hell' kinda vibe.”

“He said that he had a task for Midoriya,” Kodai says, now looking at Izuku as well.

Each suspicious face makes Izuku want to curl up and disappear, in lieu of facing the questions he can't answer.

“Hold on a moment,” Yanagi says, deep in thought. “When we reunited with Midoriya in the factory, he was among the most direly wounded, was he not? His limbs had all broken. Were he a companion to the Villains, would he have sported such injuries?”

The tension in the air ebbs slightly, as everyone else joins her in consideration.

“Now that you mention it, Midoriya was fighting that...that thing, wasn't he?” Shouda adds. “That monster with all the arms. Doesn't seem like something they'd make him do if he was one of theirs.”

“Well...yeah, I guess that's true,” Tsunotori admits, frowning. “But the fog man did say he wanted Izuku, yes? Why?”

Everyone looks toward Izuku again. The lack of aggression in their eyes this time doesn't make it easier to take.

Izuku swallows. “I...I promise, I really don't know!” His voice hits a pleading note. “Look, I've never, ever heard of a group calling themselves the League of Villains, and I'd never do anything to be a Villain myself. I want to be a Hero! It-it's all I've ever wanted! I-I don't know how they knew who I am, or what they wanted with me, but I swear I'm not a part of them!”

Izuku feels his eyes welling up, his teeth gritting in distress. There's no one in the world who'd want him for anything, except All Might. But even if they did, he wouldn't be a Villain. He couldn't – he'd mess up everything up, for sure.

“We're not sayin' you are, man,” Tetsutetsu says, looking unusually thoughtful. “But...he did say your name. Doesn't make a lot of sense, right?”

“Whatever it means, we can deal with it later.”

Everyone turns to look at Kendou as she speaks. She stands up straight, ignoring the lingering pain of her wounds.

“Look, I don't know about the rest of you, but it's been a long, hard day, and I'm tired. I know there's a lot of questions that need answering, but we can't come apart because we don't know everything now. We got through this by sticking together, so that's what we need to keep doing.

“Whatever these people wanted with Midoriya, they still made him fight for his life against those...” Monsters, she doesn't say. “So let's remember that, all right? We're only going to burn ourselves out if we fight, and we...”

Kendou sighs. “We still have class tomorrow. I'm sure the school and police will have a lot of questions.”

“Nah, we have tomorrow off, too,” Kuroiro says.

“Indeed,” Yanagi says, holding up her phone. “Vlad-sensei administered a group e-mail regarding the next several days.”

Everyone stops to pull out their phones – Kaibara has to twist in order to reach into his pocket with his good hand. “...Yeah, he did,” Komori confirms as everyone else opens the message from their teacher:

Everyone,

I can't begin to tell you how sorry I am for leaving you. I heard the general course of events from Lunch Rush – we let ourselves be blindsided today. This League of Villains is an unknown entity, and U.A. was arrogant enough to grow complacent in the belief of its infallibility.

Lunch Rush told me that most of you emerged unharmed from this attack, and that tells me that even in a harrowing experience such as this, you fought against the people who abducted and tried to harm you. I'm more proud of all of you than you could ever know, for pressing through. And Kuroiro, who evaded capture and saw fit to seek help, should know that his actions let us locate and rescue you before things got even worse.

But none of this excuses the fact that I failed you all. As your teacher, it's always been my duty to be there for you and keep you safe. Today, I was led astray with everyone else, and I let you suffer for it. What I did, even ignorantly, was inexcusable. I can only plead with each of you for your forgiveness and the chance to regain your trust.

After today's events, the school's been scrambling to determine its response to this situation. I wanted to visit you all at the hospital, but I couldn't spare the time. However, we've decided that both Heroics classes, you and 1-A, will be excused for both the rest of today as well as tomorrow. You'll still have to attend on Saturday, but we'll be focusing on arranging counseling for anyone who needs it and giving statements to the police rather than formal lessons.

This segues nicely into something very important I need to tell you all. It was the choice of the school that the annual Sports Festival won't be postponed or canceled, lest we imply to the public that U.A. has been shaken by this. I'm sure you'll feel pressured to ignore your pain and focus solely on growing stronger for the upcoming event.

I want to assure all of you now that anyone who tells you that your pain and trauma are irrelevant is a damn idiot who has no right to an opinion. You're all too young for something like this; even Pro Heroes struggle with events like today. Take whatever time you need to heal and get a handle on your feelings. There will be other Sports Festivals, and other chances to grow besides this. If anyone disagrees, tell them to take it up with me.

For now, all of you should take some time to rest. Just be kids instead of young Heroes. I'll see you in a couple days, and I promise I won't sleep until I know that you're all in good hands.

Vlad King

Izuku goes back and forth throughout the e-mail, with the rising warmth in his heart warring against the knowledge that he should know better. No teacher has ever shown him such consideration, at least not without recanting it when it suited them.

But nobody else seems troubled like him, just relieved and delighted. “Well, I suppose this is a welcome kindness,” Monoma says. “It really wouldn't do if we weren't being instructed at our best.”

“I completely forgot about the Sports Festival,” Rin says. “Now it feels like we've got another big undertaking to prepare for.”

Shiozaki nods. “And yet, we must continue on, borne only by our own will and capability.”

“Yeah, you guys do that,” Kuroiro scoffs, waving over his shoulder as he turns to leave. “I'm heading home. Got a couple days of sleeping to do.”

He's stopped again, now by a floating hand from Tokage. “Hey, Vlad-sensei said that you didn't even have to fight any Villains like we did. You're the last one here who's taking a nap!” She tugs on the back of his collar, fighting his efforts until he begrudgingly falls back with everyone else. “Don't think you're getting off easy just because you kept my hand safe!”

He swats her hand away. “Ex-cuse me, but I'm the guy who ran for help and saved all your sorry butts! You'd all be hung up in traction if it wasn't for me!”

Kamakiri crosses his arms and scowls, again. “And if you were with us, you'd be fucking dead,” he says. A chorus of laughs and whoa's fills the hospital atrium.

Instead of getting mad, Kuroiro smirks at his seeming archenemy. “Oh yeah? I don't see any bumps or bruises on you. I'd say you were...cowering somewhere like a little bitch?”

More laughs. Kamakiri bares his teeth, but Tsuburaba speaks first. “I mean, he sure tried to pick a fight with someone. Left me all by my lonesome, blades out and hollering like a maniac.” He laughs. “I guess everyone else thought they'd stay away from that.”

Finally, Kendou stands up straight again. “Anyway, if we have tomorrow off, do you guys...want to do something as a class? Vlad-sensei did tell us to just be kids while we had the chance. I wouldn't mind having some fun together.”

Tsunotori's face lights up. “Yes! We can visit the fun park together! We'll make lots of good memories together!”

The idea spreads quickly through the rest of the class. Even Izuku has to agree that it'd be nice to have an easy day out instead of jumping right back into school. Kuroiro and Kamakiri try to duck out while no one's looking, but Bondo pulls them right back in.

By the time that everyone is pulling out their phones to exchange information, Izuku has set aside his misgivings about Vlad-sensei. Regardless of his teacher's character, he's pretty sure that he can trust his classmates after today. They're the ones who came for him, after all.

Chapter Text

“Mom, Dad, it's okay. I promise I'm okay,” Itsuka says one last time as she ducks into her room, away from her parents fretting over her and her little siblings wanting the details of today.

(And, related, her parents fretting over her little siblings.)

In the quiet light of her bedroom, Itsuka can finally breathe. She settles down onto her bed and closes her eyes, focusing on the cool air that flows into her and the warm air that cycles out. Her muscles, drawn tense for much longer than she'd realized, soften with an ache that gives way to relief.

The painful knife wounds from before are gone, healed away without even scars to mark their existence. Itsuka's steady and calming breath helps direct her through the memories of cold steel drawing fire across her skin. It keeps her centered, reminds her that she survived, that everyone survived, and they'll live to see another day.

It bothers her that she needs to remind herself of those facts so soon. Thoughts filled with doubt, with suspicion, occupy her mind. Is she safe at U.A.? Are any of her peers safe? What will happen the next time that her class sees an incident such as today? Will they be so lucky next time? And most importantly, does what happened today change any of the goals that Itsuka has prepared for herself?

When Itsuka was nine, she happened to watch Mirko's informal debut on TV as the Rabbit Hero careened into a hostage situation and laid out all of the kidnappers in a minute flat. (Informal because, as Itsuka would later learn, Mirko had literally just broken out onto the streets and begun her own reign of nomadic justice.) While Itsuka was responsible enough back then to understand the dangers of being a loose cannon, she appreciated the simplicity and brutal grace that Mirko had displayed; there was no need for complexity or gimmicks, just determination and physical might to win the day.

Ever since then, Itsuka knew that she wanted to protect people. She saw how people smiled as the Heroes came to their rescue, and felt that bringing that sanctuary to others was how she was meant to live. She threw herself deeper into martial arts, learned to manage the unwieldy hands borne of her Quirk, and studied until she was a model student – but more than anything, Itsuka taught herself to guide people, to lead them from the front and protect those behind her. With or without her Quirk, she was strong, and she meant to use her strength in service of those who lacked their own.

In the present, Itsuka cups her hands in her lap and maintains the rhythm of her breath. Representing her class is one thing, she's done that since middle school. Even fighting, she's known since childhood. But fighting against people who have every intent of hurting or killing her and her class is a gulf that she thought she'd have much longer to cross. Everyone did well today, but they also got plenty lucky. If Monoma and Fukidashi couldn't signal for help, if Shishida was injured before he could search for the others, if Kuroiro hadn't managed to stay behind...

This is the hard part of meditation for Itsuka, the dwelling within her doubt and fear so that she can learn to accept even those thoughts. Maybe someday, she'll enter that mass of negativity and come out different, or never emerge at all.

But today is not that day, and as Itsuka steels her resolve and draws herself back into serenity, she knows that she can't change how her classmates feel about today. She hopes that they'll all stay – none of them voiced any thoughts of leaving at the hospital – but if becoming a Hero proves similar to the events of today, then Itsuka can't blame her friends for pulling away.

Itsuka, however, knows that she won't quit because of this. She's prepared for the reality of danger, for the understanding that she'll need to grow and adapt to stay afloat. Today was a surprise, but hopefully an anomaly not to be repeated. All she can do is learn.

Itsuka holds her breath, counting the seconds of silence, and then opens her eyes and reaches for her phone. Class 1-B's trip to the amusement park tomorrow should be good for everyone, but she's pretty sure she'll need to corral everyone in the meantime.

#

Inko fusses over her son and hugs him on the way out. “You double-checked your train schedule, right? Do you need any more spending money? If things don't go well or you need to come home, please let me know, okay?”

“Mom, I'm okay,” Izuku tells her, without too much force behind it. She has a right to be worried after yesterday. “I'll be with everyone else, anyway.”

“You were with everyone else when you were taken, Izuku,” his mother says. She sighs. “I know, I'm smothering you. Of course I want you to have fun, I just need to know you'll come home again. I don't think I could handle another phone call...”

Izuku hugs his mother before she begins to cry again. “I'll come home, Mom. I promise. I'm sorry I worried you yesterday, but I promise that one day I'll become someone you never have to worry about again.”

Inko huffs quietly and hugs him back. “And here I am, needing your comfort again... Of course you'll be all right, Izuku. I know you're smart enough to stay safe.”

She pulls away and smiles at her son. “Don't worry too much about me today, please. I want you to have a good time with your friends. That's all you need to worry about right now.”

Izuku smiles back, her little ray of sunlight, and bids her goodbye. Like any proper mother, she couldn't be happier to see him finally finding the people he belongs with.

#

Togaru growls. He doesn't want to spend time with any of his idiot classmates today. He only left his apartment to get out, meet some people he'd been avoiding, and maybe head outside the city to look for some bugs.

But right now, with the silver-haired ghost girl sitting next to him and the air-headed guy standing in front of him – both staring vacantly at their phones – and some gigantic pustule of a person on his other side, Togaru has been caught. It was sheer shit luck that he ran into these two out on the streets, and they just couldn't get that his plans didn't involve wasting his day at a place for dumb kids.

The airhead flicks his screen. “Got a fire orb for you, Rei-kun,” he says.

“In that case, I must express my gratitude,” Ghost Girl says, smiling as she draws her fingertip across her phone. “Bear witness to my Ultimate Nova.”

Airhead gasps as his screen lights up. “What? No! Damn it! I had Magnitude all set up next! How'd you get an Ultimate Nova?!”

“I witnessed the gifts that fortune had laid for me, and acted upon them. I believe that would be four wins for me.”

“Best of nine! I can totally get three wins in one go!” Airhead says, unable to see how many people are looking at him.

Ghost Girl still smiles. “Good fortune to you, then.”

Togaru's had enough. “What the hell are you freaks doing?!” He snaps.

The two of them look at him like he's the weird one. “Uh... having a good time?” Airhead says. “Playing a phone game together?”

“You're pissing me off!” Togaru glares at them both. “Shut the fuck up and let me off already!”

They flinch, but only for a second, and then Ghost Girl talks again. “Our class has agreed to spend this day together in reprieve--” Another glare and she shuts up.

“I didn't agree to shit with any of you,” Togaru says it like it is. “Only thing I've ever needed is me, and that's never gonna change. You're all just a waste of my goddamn time.”

Airhead scowls. “Dude, c'mon. No need to be all aggro. We're taking care of each other, that's all,” he says. “Besides, you ditched me yesterday. You gotta pay me back today.”

“For what? You're just dead weight,” Togaru snarls. “I don't need you, or anyone else. I'm gonna be a Hero all on my own – so fuck out of my life!”

Sick of sitting down, Togaru pushes off the train seat and stands up. Airhead and Ghost Girl stumble back – so has everyone else by now.

“What is going on here?” Someone important asks,. Togaru doesn't bother looking as the train slows to a stop.

“I'm getting off,” Togaru says, shoving Ghost Girl out of the way and storming out of the train without waiting for any answer. Fuck, he's all the way in Yamanashi. Now he's gotta take another train back.

Those damn idiots. They should just learn to piss off when someone doesn't want them. Togaru's better on his own; having anyone else around has only ruined him.

He grits his teeth as another face appears in his head – one that's a lot like him – and storms away. Maybe, maybe he can still find somewhere to blow off some steam around here. But there's no way he's going to a fucking fun park.

#

“Heeey, Midori!” Tokage calls as Izuku makes his way across the boulevard to join the existing group. With her are Tetsutetsu, Shiozaki, Honenuki, and Monoma, all of whom turn as one to watch Izuku hurry up to them.

It's still a little intimidating, joining up with so many impressive young Heroes. Izuku feels like it's hard to compare, especially with a power borne mainly of dumb luck rather than years of practice.

“H-hi, guys!” Izuku says. “Sorry to keep you all waiting. Is anyone else here yet?”

“Just us,” Honenuki replies. “We figured everyone would take some time to get here, since we're all so scattered around.”

“Not me! I just bolted over here from Saitama,” Tetsutetsu says with a grin. “So Tokage and I beat everyone else!”

“Damn right!” Tokage reaches out toward Izuku with her palm facing up. “Now pay up!”

Izuku flinches. “Oh, s-sorry!” He says, quickly reaching for his wallet. “I didn't mean to fall behind, I swear! I probably should've left earlier-”

“Midoriya,” Honenuki interrupts. He gives Tokage a firm glance. “She's just joking, isn't she?”

Tokage smirks. “Of course I'm kidding! Geez, I'm not that kinda girl.”

“Yes, kindly keep your life free of the love of money,” Shiozaki says with an approving nod. “Midoriya. I assume you live nearby, if you arrived early like us.”

“Uh, y-yeah,” Izuku says. “I'm actually not far from U.A. It didn't take long to get here at all.”

“I'm glad you decided to come after all,” Monoma speaks up. His ordinary coy smile is set once again upon his face. “A few of us were worried that you'd skip out on today.”

He glances smugly at Tetsutetsu, who scoffs. “Yeah, pothead calling out the kettle here.” His sharp fangs turn upward into a grin as he focuses on Izuku. “So, dude! What're you pumped to check out today? I'm hittin' the arcade! I gotta show some posers what a real gamer looks like!”

Izuku does his best to keep up conversation over the next twenty minutes or so as the rest of the group trickles in. Evidently, enough of the class is living closer to U.A. that none of them have to travel too far. They come a few at a time, sometimes right after each other before there's another break in arrivals.

“Kamakiri isn't coming?” Shouda asks when Tsuburaba and Yanagi show up with the news. “That's too bad. It would have been nice to have everybody.”

“Eh, speak for yourself,” Kuroiro says, arms folded. “A psycho like that isn't gonna play nice in a place like this. We're better without 'im.”

“Kuroiro, that's mean,” Rin chides him. A couple others join in, but it's halfhearted.

“You weren't on the train with him,” Tsuburaba adds. “He yelled at us for having too much fun with a phone game. It was messed up.”

“He doesn't seem like he'd have fun here anyway,” Kaibara shrugs. “It'll be fine.”

(Kaibara had shot Izuku a look when he first showed up, but he'd been pulled into the group chatter and hadn't followed up, for which Izuku was quite happy.)

Once everyone arrives, Kendou steps out of the group and claps her hands. “Okay, everyone! You have your phones and spending money?” At an excited response, she nods. “Good! Have fun, and don't do anything we'll regret!”

The ensuing bottleneck at the park entryway – the poor guy in the booth looks perturbed at the crowd of giddy teens – gives Izuku some time at the back of the group. He hears his name from nearby, and turns to see Monoma standing right next to him.

“I wasn't joking, when I said I was glad you're here,” Monoma says, and his smile looks as collected as ever but Izuku can feel a sort of sincerity behind it. “I didn't get to thank you back at the classroom, factory, hospital, or ensuing kudzu of text chains. I wasn't expecting anyone to step up in my defense.”

“Oh, it was nothing!” Izuku waves it away. “I'm sure you would've done the same for me! How's, uh, how's Tetsutetsu treating you?”

Monoma looks almost... pensive for a moment when Izuku gives him credit, but it's gone by the time that Tetsutetsu's name comes up.

“Just fine,” Monoma replies easily. We reached an understanding during our abduction. I wouldn't be so brave as to call us friends like you and me, but he's left me alone since then.”

Izuku's brain catches on something and pulls back roughly. “Uh, you think I'm your friend?” He asks.

Another flit of emotion beneath Monoma's mask. “Of course. I think you and I could understand each other quite well in time. Besides, most people wouldn't...”

He pauses, and before he can continue Tsuburaba shouts back, “Come on!” and the moment is thus spoiled.

“Ah, fashion-forwards first,” Monoma says, walking in front of Izuku to pay his way in. It's only for a second, but Izuku swears that right before Monoma is interrupted, he looks almost bitter.

#

Principal Nedzu doesn't need to look up when someone enters his office – he always knows exactly who's coming in at any time – but it's a courtesy that he graciously extends to his peers. “Inui, excellent to see you! I assume that you have what I asked for?”

Ryou stalks into the principal's space and drops the file on his ridiculously lavish desk without preamble. “Plenty of my colleagues were eager to extend their services, or otherwise provide referrals,” he says. “All of them will more than meet your qualifications.”

As the file is almost the size of Nedzu, the principal hops up onto his desk and flips it open where it lays. He thumbs through the stack of papers within at a blinding pace, despite lacking thumbs. “Wonderful! It pleases me to know that our students will be able to receive the care that they require,” he says. “I assume that Aizawa and Kan provided their utmost cooperation?”

“Aizawa did the best he could, for his state of mummification,” Ryou huffs. “He said he'd leave it in my paws-”

“And what well-groomed paws they are!” Nedzu cheers.

“-and I reached out to some of my more resilient associates for help with Bakugou Katsuki. As long as they can keep him in the room with them, I've no doubt they'll at least leave in one piece.” Ryou paused for a moment before continuing. “There are three other students in Class 1-A whose families I've already reached out to for therapeutic consent. Todoroki Shouto, Iida Tenya, and Yaoyorozu Momo.”

The principal nods. High-powered families such as theirs tend to prefer the chance to grant authorization on their own terms; it's always struck Nedzu as something frivolous, when their children are the ones in need of care, but best for the school to cover its bases.

“And what of Class 1-B?” Nedzu asks. “Any extenuating circumstances there?”

Ryou shakes his head. “I've just reached out to Shishida's family for the same purpose. His was the only case that required similar attention. Kan couldn't have been more permissive.”

Nedzu hums. “Seems he thinks very highly of your capabilities, Inui. I doubt he'd deny you much of anything.”

Ryou is silent as the principal continues sifting through the thick file of referrals and administrative information. “Principal Nedzu, Kan Sekijirou and I are colleagues and nothing more. Forgive me if I perceive some insinuation in your words, but we're both well aware of our status as coworkers.”

His speech is controlled and professional, but his ears standing erect give away the slightest hint of aggression, albeit in the form of mere defiance.

Nedzu just smiles as him. “Of course! I apologize for being careless. I just meant that Vlad King has immense faith in your talents, much as I do. Speaking of which...” The Unidentified Mysterious Animal in immaculate dress taps the ream of paper within the file. “I noticed a distinct lack of proposition regarding those talents of yours. I was under the perception that you were a fully licensed psychologist in your own right, Inui?”

“Yes,” Inui replies, already knowing where this is going.

“May I ask of your rationale to exclude yourself from this list of viable counselors?” There's no accusation, no suspicion in the Principal's voice or innocently watching face. Ryou almost wishes there was, so he could justify pushing back harder.

“They wouldn't trust me, sir,” Ryou says calmly. “Most of them already know my personality as the Hunting Hero. They'd be too afraid to speak to a wild animal without its usual muzzle.” Shishida even said, when they met, that he wanted to 'throw away his reason' in order to emulate the Hound Dog that he'd grown up watching.

(It had taken so much discipline not to react when he'd said as much. He was a child – he had no comprehension of what that statement really meant.)

Nedzu frowns. “Are you certain? I understand your reticence, but you are this school's counselor-”

“Lifestyle guidance counselor, yes,” Ryou says, understanding that this part of the conversation is merely formality. “And I believe that I've demonstrated my value in patrolling the grounds of U.A. and ensuring that none of the students get up to anything untoward.”

Guiding students away from causing trouble is still a form of guidance after all. And Ryou, with his vicious personage and tracking skills that granted him his title of Hunting Hero, has conducted that job without prejudice for many years.

Thankfully, Nedzu nods and seems to accept this with grace. “Very well. I'll establish contact with each of your recommendations in short order. That said, I would be remiss to say that I don't wish to see you use your other set of talents in service of our fine first-years, Inui.”

Ryou watches Nedzu pull a drawer open with his foot and heft the file of recommendations into it; he knows by now that the principal prefers to carry out certain tasks on his own, even if he'd accept help graciously. He uses the time to do some internal filing of his own, tucking away this most recent conversation with all the rest.

(Most of them are from Sekijirou – nearly all of them – but the principal has his own fair share of discussions that ended much like this one. Sometimes, Ryou wonders how the last such discussion will end.)

Nedzu dusts off his paws facetiously, once the file has been stored away. “Now then, while I have you, Inui, there is another matter that I wish to discuss. One of significant import.”

Ryou watches Nedzu's face grow solemn, and understands. This is about the USJ incident – about him, and how his inability to prevent the school from being broken into led to two classes of students in grave peril. An onerous failure deserves onerous consequences.

“I believe I understand, Principal,” Ryou says, prepared to accept any and all lashings.

“Very good,” Nedzu continues, still looking grim. “In the aftermath of such terrible events... you've allowed the grooming of your own luxurious fur to slip, haven't you?”

“... Principal?”

“It's clear that I have no choice but to once more present those grooming tips that I bestowed upon you so long ago.” Nedzu turns around and hops down onto his chair, and from there to the floor. “Sit, please. I'll make us tea, and then I'll see to it that you resume your former retinue of proper fur care.”

The principal walks away, into a previously unbeholden side room, to begin the tea, and Ryou finds himself with no choice but to sit obediently and bear witness to one of Nedzu's longest and most involved seminars known to man, mouse, dog, bear, or weasel.

Chapter Text

Going back to school feels different. Izuku can tell as he looks up at the towering glass H-shape of U.A. that some of the magic and splendor from before has vanished; the building just doesn’t shine as bright anymore. 

The earth below is a little better, with the other students smiling and chattering on their way in. But Izuku can sense some of their eyes on him, only to glance away when he tries to look back. He swears that he can see unhappiness in some of their faces - a mix of fear and resentment. 

So Izuku keeps his eyes forward until he reaches his classroom and wanders in. “Good morning, Midoriya!” He’s greeted by Kendou and a few of the others who have already arrived, and he smiles and waves back before settling into his desk. The morning before homeroom whittles on, and the rest of his class trickles in. 

It doesn’t seem like anything’s wrong with them - except maybe Kamakiri, who scowls at everyone as they call out to him and settles darkly into the seat behind Izuku. Maybe Izuku is the problem? He can’t help but feel uneasy now, but who says that his classmates feel the same? They’ve had a full day to relax together, which was lovely and should have been enough for anyone normal to feel okay again. 

Before the bell rings, Vlad-sensei steps into the room, accompanied by a man in a hat and overcoat. Vlad-sensei walks up to the front before speaking. “We’re going to spend today dealing with the fallout of what happened two days ago,” he says. “I wouldn’t wish any of you to deal with this so soon, but ultimately it’s important that you understand how to handle situations like this in the real world. Do your best to learn from it as you go.” 

He beckons to the man in the coat, who steps forward. “My name is Detective Tsukauchi. Rest assured, we’re working with U.A. in every capacity to ensure that this incident is never repeated,” he said. “On that matter, we intend to go around and speak with each of you to get your formal statement. I assume that won’t be a problem with anyone?” 

No one says anything otherwise. Yanagi raises her hand. “Forgive me, officer, but will anybody in this class be held accountable for unlawful implementation of our Quirks? Merely seeking to understand the less desirable consequences.” 

Detective Tsukauchi seems to recognize the low hum that spreads through the class and says, “In all likelihood, you should have nothing to worry about. The law is strict about these things, but as long as nothing untoward comes up in your statements, we should be able to write it all off as self-defense.” 

He smiles, a bit belatedly, as if to try calming everyone down. It seems to work, as the nervous feeling fades. 

Vlad-sensei speaks up again. “Also, as I mentioned before, we’ll be arranging for everyone to meet with counselors to discuss everything that happened. Even if you don’t think you need it, you still have to go, so make the most of it. We’ll get all that sorted out as the police are speaking with you. 

“And furthermore…” Vlad-sensei trails off. He closes his eyes for a moment, then bows deeply at the waist as everyone looks on. “I’m sorry, all of you. I swear to do my best to prove that you’re still safe in my care.” 

After a moment of shock, a bunch of the students shout in dismay. “Sensei, don’t! It’s okay!” 

“You don’t have to do this, Sensei…” 

“We all got out all right. It’s fine!” 

Vlad-sensei remains bent over as his students cry out, then rises back up straight. “Thank you for that, all of you. But you were still in danger from my absence, and I need to take responsibility for that.” 

Something blooms in Izuku’s chest, and the corners of his mouth twitch until he keeps them still. Even if Vlad-sensei is apologizing to the class as a whole, even if he has no reason to single out Izuku and assure him that he cares… it still feels good to be told that he does care. None of Izuku’s former teachers ever did something like this for their class, much less for him. 

“Before we begin, was there anything else…?” Vlad-sensei thinks aloud, bringing a big hand to his mouth in thought. After a moment of quiet, he let out a sigh. “Right. Class Representative. I suppose that’s fallen by the wayside, unless any of you have ideas for a quick election?” 

From his seat in the middle of the classroom, Rin shrugs. “I mean, I’m fine with Kendou,” he says, looking over to her in the next seat. “She did a great job keeping our heads on when we were alone.” 

Kendou herself gives a start. “Really? I mean… I know so many of you wanted to run, too,” she says, looking around the room. 

“C’mon girl, don’t toss the trophy when it’s just handed to you!” Tokage says. “We’ll all deal. Besides, you’d be great!” 

“Indeed,” Shiozaki adds, actually smiling. “A most noble and trustworthy star to follow on our shared journey.” 

“Y-yeah!” Izuku chimes in, though certain that he won’t be heard among the rest of the class agreeing as well. 

Kendou looks around, visibly flustered. “Wow, you guys… I didn’t think…” She collects herself and stands up. “Thank you, everyone! I promise, I’ll do my best to support you all!” 

Everyone cheers. It feels genuinely nice, a reprieve from the knowledge that they’ll be dealing with much worse memories in a short while. Even Vlad-sensei and Tsukauchi look on, unwilling to ruin a hopeful and happy moment like this. 

#

Ochako’s heart thumps in her chest as she stops outside the principal’s office to take a breath. She doesn’t know why the principal wants to see her himself, instead of letting her talk to an officer like everyone else. Aizawa-sensei didn’t let her ask any questions before demanding that she get going. 

(He’s just as scary wrapped up like a mummy as not, Ochako has found.) 

Once Ochako’s hand stops shaking, she slides the door open and steps inside. Immediately, the principal’s office strikes her as much brighter and roomier than she expected. The entire far wall is enormous panes of glass opening onto the U.A. campus as it stretches far away; it gives a king’s view of all the gyms and training areas scattered around the school’s domain, and all the students and teachers running around too. 

“Good morning, Uraraka!” A chipper voice interrupts Ochako’s musings. In front of that wall of windows is a large and clearly expensive oak desk, and behind that desk is Principal Nedzu, the mouse in charge of the school. (At least, Ochako is pretty sure he’s a mouse - she’s seen plenty to compare.) 

Ochako smiles to match the principal. “Good morning, Principal! Aizawa-sensei said that you wanted to see me?” She asks. 

“Yes, yes. Please, sit down!” The principal beckons to the chair set up across from his desk. “I’m certain you’re wondering why I called you here rather than let you accompany your classmates. No worries, you’ll have ample time to deliver your statements with the rest!” 

Ochako settles into the chair and oh gosh it’s comfy. The seat and back cushions are nice and plush, so much nicer than her desk or futon. She takes a moment to close her eyes and settle in with a sigh. 

Principal Nedzu continues. “Whenever you’re comfortable, I would like to introduce you to an associate of mine; I think you may recognize him. He wanted to speak with you personally.” 

Ochako sits up and opens her eyes. “Really? Who…” She follows the principal’s Princi-paw over to the side, and without meaning to, lets out a gasp. 

Sitting hunched over next to the principal’s desk is a scarecrow-straw doll-stick figure of a man, his dark eyes sunken into his angular face. A messy blonde mop droops down from his head in two long ears, covering his sullen face. 

It takes Ochako a few uncomfortable seconds to realize that she’s staring, and she physically pulls herself back into line. “Oh my gosh, I-I’m so sorry! I swear I didn’t mean to be rude! I just… I just didn’t see you there,” she says. It comes off as pathetic to her, as well as ridiculous - after all, now she can’t not notice him. Her eyes trail back toward the gaunt man no matter where she looks. 

(And not just because he seems so inexplicably familiar , although she’d never forget a face like his.) 

The man lets out a long, wet sigh. Ochako thinks she sees blood seeping through his teeth before he talks. “It’s fine… Young Uraraka,” he says. His voice is stronger than Ochako expected, which isn’t really saying much. “Nedzu and I went over this. I knew it’d happen at least once.” 

The nickname causes something to twinge in Ochako’s brain. “Young Uraraka…” she mutters quietly. There’s only one person she knows who calls her that, but… but there’s no way. Not possible. “Are you a… a new teacher?” 

Nedzu watches her, kind but solemn. “Uraraka, that is… technically correct,” he says, the best kind of correct. “You and Yagi-san should be acquainted already, from your Battle Trial with Awase some days ago.” 

“Young Uraraka…” the man - Yagi-san, or is it Yagi-sensei - speaks up again. “I know it’s a lot to believe, but I need you to listen to what I’m saying…” 

He catches himself sagging and sits up straight again. 

“...I’m All Might.” 

Ochako doesn’t make a sound or a movement. She very much wants to, but there’s so much happening in her mind that she just can’t. All Might is…? It doesn’t make sense at all. 

She sits silently as Yagi-san tells her a solemn tale - six years ago now, All Might got into a battle with a Villain so powerful that he tore a hole in All Might’s body before he finally went down. All Might held on long enough for help, but he’s never been the same. His insides were ripped out, and his power has only ever faded since then. 

When All Might pulls up his shirt to show Ochako the wound, the sight of that horrifically blooming scar is enough to break her out of stillness, if only because she can’t keep herself from retching. She tries to apologize, but All Might waves it away. 

“You wouldn’t be the first to react like that,” he says, looking forlorn. “Anyway, I’ve been doing my best to keep this to myself. No one wants a Symbol of Peace who can barely do his job - no one who means well, anyway.” 

All Might lets out a watery sigh, then chokes and coughs into his fist. A splatter of blood stains his hand. 

“Are you okay?” Ochako asks, without having to think. 

All Might watches her with dark eyes. “...Yeah, as okay as I’ll ever be,” he says. “The doctors and healers all did the best they could, even Recovery Girl. I was just too far gone. But I’ve more or less figured things out for now… I had, anyway.” 

Ochako remembers the moment on the steps when she caught a glimpse of All Might’s powerful body crumpling into pulp, before Cementoss-sensei hid him from sight. She didn’t believe what she saw until she asked Shouji; the big guy could hardly believe it either, but he got a better look than her. 

She clears her throat, feeling very small. “I...I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to see anything,” she says quietly. “This puts you in a pretty tough position, doesn’t it?” 

All Might’s eyes widen, letting Ochako see how everything outside of his irises has turned black. “I… Yeah, but that’s not your fault. I should’ve… shouldn’t have let myself get distracted.” 

The principal finally talks again. “I think this is a bit too complex an issue to assign singular blame,” he says softly. “For now, Uraraka - Yagi has chosen to disclose the truth of his condition to a select few. Aside from myself, the faculty of U.A. is aware, including Aizawa, yes-” he adds, seeing the question form in her eyes. “And now you as well. Neither one of us can state the importance of keeping this information to ourselves. Do you understand that?” 

Ochako nods, a little numbly. “What about Shouji? What’s gonna happen to him?” 

“We’ll tell him as well,” All Might says. “Same with everyone else who saw me that day. I just thought I’d start with you.” 

“Um… thank you,” Ochako says. Her mouth is dry, and she repeats herself. “Thank you… for trusting me with this secret. I promise I won’t let anyone else know, not even my parents.” 

She rises from her seat and bows to All Might. When Ochako looks up at him once more he… she can’t tell if he looks happy , but definitely a bit more open. Less closed off. 

“Thanks, Young Uraraka,” All Might says softly. “And I promise, even though I failed you this time, that I’ll never let any of you come to harm. As the Symbol of Peace, I swear it.” 

Although All Might’s form is nowhere near the herculean wonder that it once was, the resolve in his voice rings through loud and clear. 

Principal Nedzu perks up again. “Excellent! I believe that went smoothly. Uraraka, you’re free to return to your classroom and wait for the police to call upon you. Aizawa will take care of sending down the next student to speak with us!” 

Ochako stands up and leaves with one final bow to the principal. She tries to digest everything on the way back to class. She said that she could handle having a secret like this, but now that it’s had time to settle in… Ochako doesn’t know how to feel. 

Like everyone in Japan, she’s always felt like the Symbol of Peace would keep her safe no matter what. Knowing that even he could be hurt so badly… What chance does she have? 

#

“Are you feeling comfortable, Tetsutetsu?” Officer Sansa asks. 

“Not really,” Tetsutetsu says, leaning back in his shitty folding chair and rolling his neck to work out the kink forming. The lumbar support in this thing is godawful; sure, it came from a stack in the closet, but he thought the teacher’s lounge would have some comfier chairs. “But it’s fine. I can start talking whenever.” 

He’s one of the first to get called out by the cops for a statement. So is Monoma, Kendou, and a couple more. 

The kitty cat cop sets a file on the nearby desk and readies a notepad. “Whenever you’re ready.” 

Tetsutetsu sighs and grips his hands in his lap. “Well, y’know what happened at the USJ, right? So we were all here...” 

#

Izuku swallows his anxiety and pulls open the door to the unused classroom. Detective Tsukauchi sits patiently in a chair, and takes his hat off at the sight of him. 

“Midoriya!” He waves. “I’m glad to meet you. Please, take a seat.” 

“Meet me?” Izuku asks. He sits in one of the empty desks across from the detective. “I-I don’t understand. I don’t think I did anything wrong, did I?” 

Tsukauchi waves his hand. “No, no. Not at all. All Might’s just told me a lot about you,” he says. “He and I are old friends, and I was looking forward to meeting his successor. He says you’re still navigating One For All?” 

The name of All Might’s ex-Quirk makes Izuku’s breath catch. He reminds himself to breathe again. “Oh, you know about that too?” 

“For a while, yes,” says the detective. He sits up, pulling his face into a solemn expression. “Which is why he asked me specifically to talk to you about what happened at the factory. They were targeting you specifically?” 

Izuku squirms in his seat, trying not to take it as another accusation. “Yeah, I think so. I-I don’t know why, though. I’ve never even met any of those Villains before.” 

The detective, thankfully, seems to accept that. “Very well. Would you mind telling me what happened? Try not to leave out any details, even the small ones.” 

Izuku nods, steadies his breathing, and does his best to tell the harrowing tale. 

Chapter Text

Nedzu waits for Awase to leave his office before turning to All Might. “I think it’s going very well so far, wouldn’t you say?” He asks with a tone of gentle cheer. “Your presentation has improved markedly since we began, and you’ve hardly spat up any blood!” 

All Might lets out a breathy sigh of a chuckle, allowing himself a small beat of mirth before growing solemn once more. “I’d feel better if I didn’t need to burden any students with this knowledge. It’s going to make things much more stressful from now on,” he says. 

Asui and Shouji noted as much during their talks, for all the grace with which they accepted that unpleasant truth. Society built itself high upon the pillar of All Might’s peace, and once that pillar crumbles, it’ll fall upon everyone else in Japan to keep that order from shattering on the ground below. 

“It almost certainly will,” Nedzu agrees. “But our new first years are already showing us their resilience despite everything. I believe that they’ll find support in one another, as long as we show them a little faith.” 

That made sense, All Might supposes. If there’s any solace to be taken, it’s in the heart that his students have shown thus far when presented with this painful knowledge. Kirishima went into shock briefly, then nearly broke into tears at the ‘manliness’ with which All Might has carried this pain. Asui and Shouji faced the truth with relative calm and promised to help All Might take care of everyone along the way. 

Even Awase, who’d panicked for a little bit and accidentally welded his shoe to Nedzu’s desk, had caught himself and apologized before making sure All Might knew that he’ll do his best to make up for All Might’s loss. 

Nedzu presses the intercom button on his desk. “Aizawa, we’re finished with Awase. When you get a chance, send down… let’s say Todoroki next, would you?” 

That’s fine with All Might. Endeavor may be all burning passion, but his youngest son runs cooler. Surely he’ll handle the truth about All Might with the same grace as his classmates. 

#

Officer Tsukauchi jots down everything Izuku tells him with composed efficiency. Izuku’s throat is dry; he feels like he’s been talking nonstop ever since they started. 

“...And then, a bunch of my classmates burst through the wall,” Izuku continues, trying to keep his flagging voice strong. “Honenuki and… and Bondo immobilized the - the thing with their Quirks, and--” 

He coughs. The officer looks up from his notes. 

“Oh, sorry! Is your throat sore?” Tsukauchi asks, giving Izuku a look of apology. “I didn’t mean to keep you talking so long. Need any water?” 

“I’m fine,” Izuku says quietly. “I’m… pretty much done anyway. I think I passed out after everyone showed up, and then I woke up in the hospital.” He pauses, then adds, “That’s all I remember.” 

The detective hastily writes the last of his notes, then looks them over briefly before facing Izuku again; he makes sure to keep a friendly look on his face. “Thank you for your account, Midoriya. I’m sure it couldn’t have been easy to relive everything,” he says. “You really fought off four of those creatures yourself?” 

Izuku shrinks under the disbelief that he perceives in the detective’s voice. “I know it’s crazy. M-My classmates have been saying the same thing. But I swear it’s true!” He doesn’t know which is worse - his classmates distrusting him, or a figure of such authority. They’re both familiar, at least. “I-I’ve been practicing with One for All, and they all came at me individually, so--” 

“Hey, hey, it’s okay!” Detective Tsukauchi stops him. “I believe you, I do.” He watches Izuku with wide-eyed concern. “I just wanted to make sure I had everything correct. Can you tell me more about these creatures?” 

Izuku thinks to himself for a little while - what feels like a little while anyway, before the detective interrupts him again. “I can hear you, Midoriya.” 

Izuku sits up so quickly that his spine aches. “ S-Sorry, Officer! I was just wondering, um, do you have a Lie Detector Quirk?” 

Instead of replying, Tsukauchi gives him a wry smile. “Because that’s the only way that I’d believe you, Midoriya?” He asks. “Fair enough. I do, actually. All Might told me that you were good with Quirks. Not so great with keeping your thoughts to yourself.” 

He straightens up, growing serious once more. “But that’s not the only reason why I believed you, Midoriya. Have you heard the news about the USJ invasion?” 

Izuku bites his lip and nods. “A whole army of Villains teleported there while Class 1-A was onsite for a training exercise. Weren’t they all subdued, though?” 

“Mostly. The ringleaders escaped,” Tsukauchi notes grimly. “And everyone in the other class said that the teleporting Villain looked like--” 

“--A cloud of black fog?” Izuku asks. “It was the same Villain who teleported us to the factory, wasn’t it?” 

The detective’s composure loosens, his eyes widening in surprise. “You figured that much out, huh?” If Izuku didn’t know better, he’d say that Tsukauchi looks almost… impressed. 

“He said… he said that they’d chosen wrong while looking for me,” Izuku says, swallowing. “Teleportation Quirks are so rare, I didn’t think--didn’t think there could be two in the same group of Villains.” 

Tsukauchi nods. “Yes, that’s what we decided as well. But I’m afraid that’s not exactly what I meant.” He reaches into his overcoat and pulls out a manila folder, plucking a page from it and holding it up. “This is a picture of one of the Villains apprehended after the incident was resolved. Does anything about it seem familiar?” 

Izuku looks at the paper and-- 

His heart clenches. He feels his breath catch and his brain scramble to recall that he is safe and that no Villains are attacking him now. 

The Villain on the page is enormous, so packed with muscle that its blackened skin is splitting. Its mouth is more of a beak, filled with sharp and broken teeth. The top of its head is missing, replaced by a swollen pink brain and dead eyes staring forward. 

“T-that’s…” Izuku stammers, trying to make himself stop and breathe. “That looks like the… the Villains--the Noumu I fought. With the-the brain and the weird body. That was at… at USJ?” 

Tsukauchi nods and tucks the picture away. “The Villains brought it along. They said that it was made to kill All Might. Its abilities are beyond nearly anything on record, and it has multiple Quirks. Super Regeneration and Shock Absorption, they said.” 

The intelligent part of Izuku’s mind, drowned out by emotional static, says that those two Quirks in tandem would make a terrifying close-quarters combatant. 

The detective continues. “Suffice it to say, I think this further confirms that the attacks on both classes are linked. And those Noumu that you fought, they were probably designed with multiple Quirks as well.” 

He stops speaking. The silence in the classroom feels alive, pulsating. Izuku wants to know more but doesn’t have the words to ask. Doesn’t even know what those words are. 

“...W-what happens now?” Izuku asks, at last. 

Tsukauchi sighs and rolls his shoulders. “Now, it’s time for you kids to try and go back to normal,” he says. The tone of his voice makes that seem like a difficult task. “U.A. promised counseling for you all, and I’m sure you’ll benefit from that. In the meantime, we’ll do our best to take care of this so none of you have to.” 

His face softens, but stays rueful. “You shouldn’t have been forced to deal with something like this, not so soon. I know it’ll be tough, but do your best to come back down from this and just… be a kid while you can.” 

Tsukauchi stands up and straightens out his coat, preparing to leave. Izuku stays in his seat, curled in on himself. For him, being a kid has never been desirable. Not when it means being beaten and insulted and ignored for being Quirkless. Being a Hero is what Izuku has always yearned for, in all its bittersweetnesses. He knows that he was never close, not even when he fought for his life. But it was a welcome distraction. 

The detective walks toward him. Past him? “They think…” Izuku begins as he draws close, stopping him. “My classmates think… I had something to do with the Villains,” he says softly. “Because the teleporter said that they were looking for me. And now I… I don’t know what to say to make them trust me again.” 

His voice grows thick and his vision swims. It’s not fair. This was supposed to be different. Better. He finally has a Quirk, and he’s been working so hard. He actually thought that he might make friends at U.A. He doesn’t even have to deal with Kacchan anymore. 

Detective Tsukauchi watches Izuku break down with a pained and pitying look, which he pulls into something calmer and professional as he speaks. “I don’t think that’ll be a problem. Some of the other Villains that were detained have already started talking,” he says, waiting for Izuku to look up at him with glistening eyes. “They heard that the ringleaders were operating off of rumors about All Might’s Quirk. That anyone with power like his might be a valuable asset to their cause.” 

He smiles. “I didn’t hear any of them specifically say the words ‘One For All’, just that they heard the people in charge were looking for something they could use against All Might. Nothing that seems to indicate a connection between you and them.” 

Izuku stares up at Tsukauchi, his tears narrowing into a trickle. He thinks about that for a while, really digests it. “...Is that really true?” He asks after some time passes. 

Tsukauchi outright smirks. “No. But what your class doesn’t know won’t hurt anyone.” 

Izuku takes another few moments to understand that, and then really starts crying. 

(For a long time afterward, Tsukauchi wonders if, with tears like those, the boy was ever Quirkless at all.) 

#

“...What the hell?” 

All Might’s stomach clenches, squeezing more blood up his esophagus, at the look on Young Todoroki’s face. His glaring eyes are open wide and his pupils pulled into pinpricks. His lips pull back to reveal gritted teeth as he stares down his Symbol of Peace. His impeccable posture is rigid, and his fists tremble in his lap. 

The boy’s unflappable and icy demeanor has finally cracked. 

Principal Nedzu clears his throat. “I understand that… this must be quite a shock to you, Todoroki. However, I assure you that All Might--” 

“--that I’m not going anywhere,” All Might finishes for the principal. “Whatever has happened to me has nothing to do with your own growth. I’m here for you, for all of you.” 

“How long?” Todoroki asks. 

All Might’s encouragement seems to have passed him by. 

All Might blinks. “How long, what?” 

“How long since you became… this?” 

It stings All Might, more than a little bit, to hear the tone of revulsion in Todoroki’s voice. He thought he’d prepared for it before having these meetings… maybe not as much as he should have. “About six years,” he says. 

Todoroki’s mouth hangs slightly agape as the boy is lost in thought. It’s unnerving to see him so affected after knowing only the level-headed version of him. “Why?” He finally asks. “Why would you tell me this?” 

Now All Might is left speechless, for a little bit. “Well, I… I didn’t think I had a choice after you saw the real me. I thought about trying to hide it, but--” 

“No, not that! ” Todoroki snaps. He shakes in his chair but seems rooted to the seat - angry but almost impotent. “Why would you… why would you ruin yourself for me like this? Is this a joke?” 

“ Todoroki, ” the principal reproaches him, but Todoroki isn’t hearing it. 

“I… I looked up to you!” Todoroki croaks out. “You’re the Number One Hero! The Symbol of Peace! My father--” 

He cuts himself off with a choking sound and goes still. All Might is still considering what to say when, a few seconds later, lets out a wordless and anguished cry and lurches out of his chair, knocking it over in the process. 

“Young Todoroki!” All Might cries. Even Nedzu looks shocked. But the young man is already storming out of the principal’s office without a glance back as he slams the door behind himself. 

Neither All Might nor Nedzu can bring themselves to speak. All Might stands up, ignoring the spike of pain in his ravaged innards, and sets the chair upright again. He towers over it, gaze tilted downward and looking grim. “I suppose… I suppose that was warranted,” he admits. “I’m surprised it took this long, to be honest.” 

“Even so, that it would be Todoroki…” Nedzu trails off. The capybearrat taps his finger idly against his desk. “If you’d like, I can speak to Bakugou on my own, Yagi. You’ve sat with all of the others, so I’d say you’ve earned the right to leave now.” 

All Might doesn’t reply to that right away, taking his time to ruminate on the option. “No,” he says at last. “I swore that I’d be here for all of them, not just the ones who were easy. Even if Young Bakugou ends up taking it even worse than Todoroki, I… I will bear that pain with him.” 

Principal Nedzu looks proud. “In that case, I don’t think it would be out of line to take a bit of time to recollect yourself. I’ll tell Aizawa to take his time on sending Bakugou down before the end of today.” 

From his position standing over the chair, All Might closes his eyes and nods. “Thank you, Principal. I… I think that’s best.” 

#

“...And now I can’t spin my fucking hand with this thing over it,” Kaibara grumbles to his cop. He lifts the arm with the cast on it. “It’s gonna get stiff, and Sensei’s gonna be on my case about getting rusty - no, not Vlad-sensei, the lady who runs my dojo. She said she’s sunk a lot of time into me, the damn reptile…” 

…

“Oh, that was Monoma?” Kendou asks. “That makes sense. I thought Fukidashi had blown out his throat trying to signal for help. No, he’s fine now. He just can’t talk much for a while. I feel bad for him, making sound effects is practically his life.” 

…

“Yes, we rode it through the sky!” Tsunotori says. “Like a flying bronco! Woo-hoo in the skies!” 

…

“It was like riding a giant dildo,” Kodai says. “I guess. Wait, don't write that down...!” 

…

“It was boring,” Kamakiri growls. “Didn’t even run into anybody. Fuck, even one of my classmates would’ve been something.” 

…

“Do you even know what it smells like in a supply closet?” Tsuburaba whines. “I had to pee in the mop bucket, ‘cause I had no clue if someone was gonna come by! I don’t think I was even the first guy who did it there! And it was so cramped in there, I had nowhere to get away from it.” He quakes in revulsion. “I’m never going to the bathroom at school again.” 

…

The police officer leans forward. “I’m sorry, can you please speak up? You’re too quiet.” 

Fukidashi’s speech balloon head sags. “Sorry,” he whispers, his voice soft and raw. “Me and Komori were ptptptpt -ing away from the Villain, but it was dark like shoooooom and we were all zigaziga , and my tshk and ping went bwmp before too long so we couldn’t see anything. Does that make sense?” 

…

Komori purses her lips. “That’s why I need to make some panellus stipticus friends so that it never happens againoki. Next time, I’ll take care of Manga-chan.” 

…

“Why the hell am I here?” Kuroiro scowls. “Ask Lunch Rush what the hell happened.” 

…

Shiozaki clasps her hands. “And these, O templar of the modern age, are the sins and retributions of this foul happenstance, that they may be properly culled and absolved.” 

…

“It was nice,” Monoma admits at last. “For once in my life, I finally felt as though I was needed... This isn’t going to be made public, is it? I don’t need any of my fellows making a fuss over me.” 

Chapter Text

Izuku doesn’t realize how long he spent speaking with Detective Tsukauchi until he finally leaves and feels his stomach growl. He checks his phone and sees that it’s approaching noon. How long would everyone else have spent giving testimony? 

Probably not as long as him, since they don’t have One For All to complicate things. Maybe he can say that he took longer to discuss counseling. That might keep them from suspecting any more of him. 

In the meantime, he opens the text that his mom sent earlier. He missed it in the middle of speaking to the police. 

[Mom]

Please let me know how your day is going when you get this, okay? 

I don’t mean to push, but I want to make sure you’re safe. 

Izuku’s eyes fill with tears again. He wants to be back home, hugging his mom and apologizing for being such a bad son. He shouldn’t be making her worry. She’s been through so much herself over the past few days. 

[Izuku]

I’m okay, Mom. Sorry I didn’t reply sooner. I was talking to the police. Everything’s going okay. We talked about what happened and about starting counseling. 

Izuku doesn’t know how to feel about the latter part; he’s never been to any kind of therapy. No one has ever offered before, and he’s never wanted to make life harder for anyone. 

The detective couldn’t say who Class 1-B might be speaking with, just that the school has a lot of prestigious contacts in the field of mental health. Hopefully it’s not too much of a hassle to set things up, especially with the Sports Festival coming up. 

Izuku’s phone chimes again, startling him. 

I think that’s for the best. I hope they take better care of you from now on. 

Izuku frowns as his mother’s text comes through. Of course she’d be angry that something happened, but it doesn’t seem fair to blame the school when they did their best. 

I think it’ll be okay, Mom. They seem like they really care about this, and I have my classmates. 

His mom takes a while longer to respond. Izuku feels tension winding in his stomach until his phone rings and he finally gets to read her reply. 

If you think that, then I’ll trust you. Please let me know if you need anything from me. 

I love you so much, Izuku. 

Now Izuku does cry, right there in the stairwell. If anyone sees him, Izuku doesn’t notice them; he prefers that no one does. When he finally feels ready to keep going, he wipes his wet eyes and hurries on his way. 

As Izuku turns the last corner in the hallway, he doesn’t anticipate the crowd of people plugging the door to his classroom. Everyone is chattering, so he doesn’t make out anything they’re saying, but they all look young. Around his classmates’ ages, maybe. Every one of them is either staring straight into the 1-B homeroom or shifting around to get a better view. 

Izuku can sort of make out his classmates’ voices within the ruckus - Kendou urging everyone to calm down and Tetsutetsu shouting for space. It’s enough to make Izuku freeze right where he is, just rounded the corner and in view of the mass of people, if they just turn his way. He feels like he should do something to understand what’s happening, or to help his classmates, but Izuku’s mind goes blank at the thought of being confronted by so many people. 

So he doesn’t move, not at all. Not until he feels a thick finger tapping his shoulder and a voice saying his name. “Midoriya?” 

Izuku turns, and then looks up at his classmate’s face. “Bondo! Sorry, I was just… you know,” he says lamely. 

The much taller boy looks at the crowd with his many eyes. “That’s a lot of people. What’s going on?” Bondo asks. 

Izuku grimaces. “I-I don’t know,” he admits. “I just finished questioning, and I was on my way back to class. Seems like maybe a bunch of students came to see us?” 

Bondo cocks his head slightly. “Because of the factory incident? I didn’t think people would know about that so quickly. Not after Class A and the USJ.” 

Izuku’s heart sinks to think about that. He didn’t appreciate the misfortune of both Hero classes going through such traumatic events on the same day. What’s this going to mean for U.A.’s image? 

Bondo’s voice brings Izuku back to Earth. “Hey, do you want a ride?” The taller boy looks down at Izuku. “I can help you through all those people, if you want.” 

The offer takes Izuku back a bit. “Uh, a-are you sure?” He asks. “I think I can get through by myself, somehow.” 

“I’ve done it before,” Bondo says, in the same helpful tone. “Back in middle school.” He turns his back toward Izuku and crouches down onto one knee. “Jump on and grab my neck.” 

Izuku takes a step back and is about to stammer out a polite refusal when he hears a rise in volume from the mass of people. He looks behind himself and realizes with alarm that a small contingent of students on the outer edge of the crowd has noticed him and Bondo. 

Izuku catches a glimpse of their judging eyes and decides that between them and Bondo, he’ll throw his lot in with his classmate. He turns and leaps onto Bondo’s back, the force causing the tall boy to pitch forward slightly. Bondo takes it with grace and swings both of his thick arms backward, catching Izuku’s feet and pushing him more safely upward to give Izuku a better grip. 

With all that settled, Bondo makes his way through the crowd with Izuku in tow. He takes the time to politely excuse himself all the way through, but his towering height is all he needs to make the crowd part before him. 

They’re through in a fraction of the time that Izuku was expecting, breaking from the wall of bodies into the open classroom. Bondo kneels back down and lets Izuku slide off him with a satisfied, “There you go.” 

“Midoriya!” Kendou turns from the students crowding the door to address him. “Is everything okay? We were worried about you.” 

“Yes!” Tsunotori adds, causing Izuku to turn. “You were gone so long, we thought you might be in trouble!” 

The look of concern on her face stuns Izuku, as does the similar look on most of his other classmates when Izuku looks up to see them. Indeed, almost everyone came back before him, but Izuku feels a lump in his throat when he realizes that they seemed worried about him, not suspicious. 

“N-no, it’s fine,” Izuku says, clearing the tightness in his throat. “They just wanted to know what happened to me. What happened with all those creatures I had to fight. But I’m okay, I promise.” 

“That’s good!” Shouda pipes up from his desk, genuinely smiling for the first time in a while. 

As Izuku feels another lump forming, Kuroiro pops out of the shadows at the feet of the crowd, sending them stumbling back as he stumbles into the classroom. He glances at everyone, sees them looking toward Izuku, and loudly says, “I’m okay too, thanks for asking,” before slinking into his seat. 

Kendou takes a breath and approaches the crowd with Honenuki, making sure to stand tall and proper. “Excuse me, can we help any of you?” She asks, uncertain but trying for diplomacy. 

“You’re all students here,” Honenuki observes. “Did you want to meet us after everything that’s happened?” 

“Something like that,” says a monotone voice from the center of the crowd. A specific person pushes to the front - a tall boy with dark blue hair and a weary face. “We wanted a good look at this year’s lucky winners. Everyone is talking about you, you know?” 

He gives a toothy smile and holds up his phone for everyone to see. The screen shows a news site, painted with photos and videos of Class 1-B and some other people that Izuku doesn’t recognize. That said, Izuku recognizes Kacchan the moment he sees him, and the stern, tall boy with glasses as well. That must be Class 1-A. 

It’s mostly low-quality, taken from a distance thanks to U.A.’s security measures, except for a few interview videos taken through ambushes on the street. Izuku sees his own panicked face for a moment as the tired boy flicks through footage. Some of his classmates show up as well - Komori cornered by taller reporters before Shiozaki steps between them, Shishida trying to look smaller as he towers over a crowd, and so on. 

The tired boy pulls his phone back. “Here’s a good one,” he says after a moment, flipping his phone forward again. A video of the destroyed factory plays for everybody, along with poorly shot footage of Class 1-B being led uneasily out of the factory by Lunch Rush. Vlad-sensei rushes into view for a moment at the end, distraught and shouting even as the footage cuts off. 

“So you see why we’re all interested, don’t you?” The tired boy asks, lowering his phone. “Seems like you’ve already been making a real mess, you and the other class.” 

Kaibara sits up angrily. “Hey, what the hell does that mean?” He snarls. “We didn’t ask to deal with that shit!” 

“Yeah!” Tetsutetsu shouts. He slaps his desk and shoots to his feet with a furious glare. “We coulda died that day! We did what had to be done! Who the hell’re you, barging in here and actin’ high and mighty?!” 

The crowd around the sleepy-eyed boy recoils a bit, but the boy himself just scowls at Class 1-B. “You know a lot of us wanted to join the Hero course? More than you’d guess. But we got stuck in General Education and the other classes, because for one day, we weren’t good enough to be Heroes. 

“But depending on the results of the Sports Festival, that can change,” he continues. “We do well enough, they might consider transferring us into the Hero course.” His gaze slides across the horizon of the classroom; Izuku shivers as the icy stare passes over him. “And I’ve heard that the opposite is possible for all of you. Of course I’m glad no one died… but it would’ve been convenient if some of you had to leave.” 

The disappointment in his voice, rendered in that endless monotone, hummed through the quiet classroom. That silence was ended by, of all things, a loud scoff from one side of the room. 

“Oh please,” Kuroiro said, rolling his eyes with his feet on his desk. “We just got abducted by Villains and rocked the USJ before that. I think we can handle you.” 

“Indeed,” Monoma agrees from the other side of the room. His self-assured gaze is just the slightest bit hard, tinged with anger for all he does to hide it. “Don’t you think you’re the ones being arrogant right now? You came here to demean and threaten us, when we haven’t done anything to antagonize you. I’d say we’re entirely the aggrieved party here.” 

“Enough, ” Honenuki says firmly. The black-skinned boy just smirks and looks upward, while Monoma shows an edged smile. Before Honenuki or Kendou can attempt to play peacemaker, another soft voice joins in. 

“We worked hard to get where we are,” Kodai says, meeting the boy’s weary stare with her own icy glare. “Some of us spent our whole lives fighting to be here. If you want to be bitter, then do it somewhere else, because we’re not going anywhere.” 

The silence that follows is an entirely different kind than before, tense and cold as everyone waits - dreads, for some of them - to see who says what next. It’s the tired boy, who gives 1-B another humorless, joyless smile. 

“Should we call that your declaration of war?” He asks. “Then here’s ours. At the Sports Festival this year, we’re going to knock you out of your ivory towers, and we’ll take what we want ourselves.” His smile fades into a straight line of teeth. “That’s how we do things.” 

Several more cold moments pass. The boy with the weary eyes surveys Class 1-B. Izuku shivers. The look in his eyes is different from Kacchan’s explosive rage, his self-assured superiority. It’s cold and resolute and dangerous. The look of someone wanting to hunt, to threaten. 

To chase. 

“Everyone, move along!” Vlad-sensei’s voice from outside shakes Izuku and everyone else back to reality. The crowd dissolves almost instantly to make way for 1-B’s homeroom teacher, along with the few remaining stragglers who’d been missing until now. 

(The tired-looking boy disappears without anyone seeing where he went.) 

Once everyone settles in, Vlad-sensei looks over them from the front of the room. “Did everyone’s sessions go well?” He asks. When everyone responds in the positive - or at least, the optimistically neutral - he nods. “Excellent. As long as you’re all well, I have no further complaints. You’re free to go home after lunch.” 

Most of the class stands and begins to drift slowly away from their desks, filling the room with a low hum of conversation. It doesn’t last long before Monoma raises his hand. 

“Sensei? Someone from General Education said something very interesting,” says Monoma. “He said that the Sports Festival will be an opportunity for the Hero course and the other courses to exchange students, depending on their performances. Is that true?” 

This brings everyone down to earth some more. “Yeah, but how would that work? We already have a full headcount,” Tsuburaba says. “Unless we can slide an extra desk in here somewhere.” 

“But he also said…” Komori begins, then stops nervously. After a moment to breathe, she resumes, “He said that Hero students can be shiitaken out and put in General Education. Is that something that could happen to us?” 

Komori’s hands tremble upon her desk. From behind her, Shiozaki grasps her shoulder gently and murmurs some kind words. Next to Komori, Kuroiro bites his lip and says nothing. 

Izuku feels bad for her. Komori has such an intriguing Quirk - there are so many mushrooms that she can grow! But she is pretty small, so maybe strength and speed wouldn’t be her best areas. He can understand why she’d be worried. 

Vlad-sensei sighs through his nose and replies, “...Yes, all that is technically feasible. It’s all happened before, and I’m sure it will happen again. However ,” he stresses, “It’s far, far more likely that someone from another class will be elevated to Heroics than the other way around. Trust me, I’ve seen plenty more students come into Heroics than they do leave. 

Suddenly, Vlad-sensei shows a satisfied grin. “Besides, Class A already has an opening for a new student, so your places here are pretty much safe!” 

Shouda asks, “Already?” And then Vlad-sensei launches into a diatribe about the warring educational philosophies of him versus someone named Aizawa, and it’s a good five or ten minutes before he remembers to let his class go to lunch with everyone else. Still, Komori looks a little more assured as she leaves with the other girls, so perhaps it worked out after all. 

On the way to lunch, All Might rounds a corner before Izuku with a bellow of “I FOUND YOU, MIDORIYA!” A wrapped-up bento dangles from his monstrous mitt of a hand. “Care to eat lunch with me today?” 

Izuku is taken aback, but everyone shouts at him to go, what the hell are you waiting for, so he doesn’t refuse - or, for that matter, notice the anxious and weary look in All Might’s sunken eyes. 

Chapter Text

The teacher’s lounge, though small, is bright and looks cozy. Izuku sits on the stool set up next to the little table and looks across at All Might. The Symbol of Peace has already shed his muscular appearance, and now as he settles achingly into the sofa, Izuku can finally recognize the exhaustion in his face. 

It must have been a difficult day for the teachers as well. 

“All Might? Are you okay?” Izuku asks. 

It takes too long for All Might to answer. “...No,” he says at last. It sounds like his frail constitution is bearing an immense weight. “I failed you, Young Midoriya. I left you alone when you were most vulnerable, and I made you fight an ordeal far beyond you. I was nowhere nearby when you needed me most.” 

To Izuku’s horror, All Might slips from the couch onto his knees and presses his head and hands against the tabletop. “As your teacher, I couldn’t have let you down more. I am so, so sorry.” 

Izuku almost recoils, nearly falling off the stool. “N-no! Don’t say that! You were protecting the other class! That wasn’t your fault!” 

“It was!” All Might cuts him off. “I should have resolved everything sooner and returned in time to end the lockdown. You could have all escaped; at least you would have had protection.” 

“But you can’t be everywhere at once!” Izuku says stubbornly. “They needed your help too! They would have died without you, wouldn’t they?” 

All Might looks up at Izuku and considers this, then slumps. “Even so, I… I let you down, kid. You had to fight for your life. I can’t apologize enough for that, Young Midoriya.” 

Izuku feels his stomach twist and clenches his fists in his lap. He doesn’t want to think about All Might like this. He did his best, they’re all fine anyway. So it’s fine, it has to be. 

Eventually, All Might sits back up with a painful grimace and, mercifully, changes the subject. “...So, Detective Tsukauchi told me a little bit about what you talked about. Your classmates aren’t giving you trouble now, are they?” He asks. 

Izuku almost sighs in relief. At least, he feels his chest release as he shakes his head. “No, they’re okay. They were a little suspicious, but Detective Tsukauchi came up with a story to explain things without having to tell them about One for All,” he says. 

He expects All Might to look relieved as well, so the dread sinking into his teacher’s face fills Izuku with similar worry. “Isn’t that… isn’t that okay?” Izuku asks fearfully. 

All Might sighs deeply. “It’s not that. It’s…” He sets his tea onto the table and visibly takes a moment to prepare himself. As though what he’s about to say is its own trial. 

Finally, he speaks. “I’ve told you that my power is dwindling, ever since I was injured years ago,” he begins slowly, not waiting for a response. “On the day of the attacks, I…” All Might shakes his head. “I’m ashamed to admit it, but I ran out of time. I was careless and used it up too soon, so while I was able to drive away the people attacking us, I…” 

He pauses again, bracing himself. “I had to change back to my usual form, before I had a chance to leave. So a handful of the students from 1-A saw me as I really am. They…” 

All Might heaves another sigh, blood trickling through his teeth. “The principal and I spent this morning speaking with each of them, explaining the gravity of what they know now. Nothing about One for All, just who their Symbol of Peace really is.” He has trouble meeting Izuku’s gaze. “So… you might want to be aware of that.” 

Izuku’s stomach twists. That might make things more complicated; at least it was only people from the other class and not 1-B. He didn’t need his classmates making any more connections that he couldn’t explain. “Th… thanks for letting me know,” Izuku says. “I’m sorry that happened. I take it they’re all freaked out now?” 

All Might tilts his head in a ‘so-so’ kind of way. “Most of them took it all right, once they learned everything. At least, they tried to take it with grace. A couple of them… Well, they didn’t handle it super well. I can tell you their names, if you like.” 

Izuku nods, and All Might rattles off a small list. Uraraka, Asui, Shouji, Kirishima, Awase… 

“Todoroki, and Bakugou,” All Might finishes. “If you want, you can--” 

Izuku isn’t listening. He’s stuck on that last name. “K-Kacchan?!” He squeaks. “Kacchan knows?” 

(So shocked is he that the name ‘Todoroki’ slips past him.) 

All Might looks surprised. “Yeah, Bakugou Katsuki. You two went to the same middle school. Do you know him well?” 

Numbly, Izuku nods. “We were… We were friends,” he manages. “Did he, um, did he get upset? When you told him, I mean?” 

All Might lets the question hang for a moment before solidly replying, “Yes.” He doesn’t mention that his ears were ringing for a while, and not even because of Bakugou’s explosions. “Anyway, I didn’t mean to psych you out by telling you this. I just thought that you deserved to know. If you want to reach out to them, I won’t mind. As long as you don’t mention One for All.” 

Izuku doesn’t know how he’d go about doing that, but he nods anyway. The bentos on the table have long gone cold. All Might seems to notice this, as he picks them both up and moves over to the microwave. 

“Sorry, I know this is a bummer. I just didn’t want to see you get blindsided,” All Might says. “Let’s talk about the Sports Festival…” 

The Student Council room - such as it is - looks basically like a regular classroom save for the U-shape of long tables set up in the center of the room. The walls and blackboard are plain and undecorated, though Itsuka can see the pieces of old posters once hanging from the wall. Maybe it’ll look nicer once they can all decorate it together. 

But that’s another day. She sits down on one side of the tables next to Honenuki, trying to quell the butterflies in her belly. She smiles. “Thank you both so much for agreeing to meet with us. I’m sure you’re plenty busy today with everything.” 

The two figures across from her mirror Itsuka and Honenuki in generality - a young woman about her age and a more imposing man - but the similarities end there. Itsuka heard that the daughter of the Yaoyorozu Group is attending U.A. in her year, but she wasn’t expecting to see the young heiress so soon. 

Yaoyorozu Momo is quite beautiful, with black hair pulled back into a ponytail and a refined figure. She looks more confident than Itsuka feels. 

The boy next to Yaoyorozu is, according to Vlad-sensei, Shouji Mezou, the co-President of Class 1-A alongside Yaoyorozu. He’s enormous and burly, a drastic contrast to Honenuki, with six muscular arms and a face half-hidden by a mask. Itsuka half-wonders what he looks like without it; it can’t be that frightening, since she has no issues with Honenuki. 

(But she doesn’t say that aloud. He must have his reasons.) 

Yaoyorozu shakes her head slightly. “It’s no trouble. After all the questions and counseling information, this is a welcome relief,” she says. “Is your class well? From what we heard, you all didn’t even have the teachers coming for you…” 

“We’re well enough,” Honenuki replies. The skin on his back has finished healing, as he shows no issues moving around today. “We’re just hoping to move past this and keep going. How about your class? It sounds like there was something of a brawl at the USJ?” 

“The teachers took the brunt of it,” Shouji says, one of his arms sprouting a mouth to speak. “We’re all well enough too, I suppose. In the meantime, we’re glad you wanted to meet. We didn’t expect you to reach out so soon.” 

“But we’re not complaining,” Yaoyorozu adds. “We weren’t certain how to approach you. After everything that’s happened, we didn’t feel like we had time, and Aizawa-sensei… Not to speak ill of our teacher, but he didn’t give us much advice.” 

“He’s the hands-off type?” Itsuka asks. She almost chuckles. “Sounds like the opposite of Vlad-sensei. He wouldn’t stop trying to tell us how to talk to you.” Indeed, once she and Honenuki went to Vlad-sensei wanting to meet with 1-A, he’d dumped more on them than they’d cared to know then. 

(“Establish dominance! Make sure they know that you’re just as worthy of respect as they are!” 

“Eraserhead’s strict, but if they try anything, shut it down hard. Don’t let them treat you wrong.” 

“So what if they have legacies?! You’re twice--THREE times the students that they are! You’re fighters, both of you! If they show you their asses, kick them! ” 

“Thank God you won’t meet Bakugou or Todoroki. Aizawa’s got some serious attitude adjustments to give them…” 

And so on.) 

“He told us a lot about you two and how you got elected,” Honenuki says. “But if it’s no trouble, we’d like to hear from you. Who are you both?” 

Yaoyorozu hesitates for a moment. “My.. My name is Yaoyorozu Momo, co-President of Class 1-A. I was accepted into U.A. through the Recommendations Exam.” She continues, sliding into a practiced speech. “I’m the only daughter and heiress of the Yaoyorozu Group; however, I don’t wish to be treated as anything more than a regular student during my time here. I’m looking forward to watching the relations improve between our classes.” 

She finishes with a bow in her seat. Itsuka is grateful that she doesn’t have to respond to that, because now it’s Shouji’s turn. 

“I’m Shouji Mezou, the other co-President,” he says simply. “I’m still figuring out what this position means, but I’m happy to meet you both as well.” He nods his head just a bit, his own version of a bow. “Now that you know about us, we’d love to hear about you.” 

That, at least, is something that Itsuka was expecting to answer. She makes sure to sit up straight. “My name’s Kendou Itsuka. I… I don’t really feel like I have much to say, but my friends all elected me, so I’ll do my best to serve them.” 

Itsuka sees Honenuki smile at her from the corner of her eye. It’s a comforting sight. 

“I’m Honenuki Juzo,” he says at last. “I was also accepted through the Recommendations Exam. I’m excited to get to know everyone and help make this school life a good one.” 

Yaoyorozu perks up. “I remember you! We said hello during the exam. I’m very happy to see that you were accepted.” 

“Thank you,” Honenuki says, smiling. “Likewise.” 

With introductions out of the way, Itsuka takes a deep breath and clasps her hands together on the table. “So, onto business. I thought we could start by talking about our classes and what we’re hoping to accomplish for them?” She suggests. “Given recent events, there’s… There’s probably only so much we can do, but did you have anything in mind…?” 

“We need to keep everyone’s hopes up,” Shouji says, before Yaoyorozu can reply. “After two attacks on the Hero course, our classmates are scared. Talking to the police and being promised counseling aren’t going to eliminate that, so we have to watch over everyone and keep them in good spirits.” 

He forms half of his arms into eyes and the other half into ears to get the message across - stay watchful. 

“I agree with Shouji,” Yaoyorozu says. “I’d be remiss if I pretended that everyone in our class is adapting well to what happened. A lot of us are relieved that it’s over and that we came out mostly unscathed-” She flinches. “I mean, that’s just our class. I know that yours wasn’t so lucky-” 

“It’s okay,” Honenuki assures her. “I get what you mean. We’ve all spent some time together since then, and I think it helped us take each others’ minds off it.” 

“Yeah, having that support was really nice,” Itsuka says. “Has your class done anything together to destress?” 

Yaoyorozu’s lips purse as she considers that. “We… No, we haven’t spoken about doing anything as a unit. Perhaps that would improve our morale. We’re just… Well, we’re not very close as of yet.” 

She looks dismayed. Shouji gently cups a hand against the back of her chair. 

“Between Combat Training and everything at the USJ, we haven’t had much of a chance to consolidate ourselves as a class,” Shouji admits. “Aizawa-sensei doesn’t really encourage it, though it’s probably a good idea.” 

“We can help you come up with something,” Itsuka says. “I know it'll probably be hard with the Sports Festival coming up, but maybe afterwards there’ll be time.” 

Yaoyorozu nods. “That’s a good idea. Though I’m…” She purses her lips again reluctantly. “Far be it from me to impugn any of my classmates, but I’m not certain that everyone will be interested in a group outing. We have a couple of students who might be, well, rather difficult to convince.” 

“Bakugou and Todoroki,” Shouji says without preamble, ignoring Yaoyorozu’s look of reproach. “They’re not really team players.” 

That’s news to Itsuka - at least, Todoroki is. She thought that having a famous (well, in famous) Hero for a father would give him a better appreciation of the necessities of cooperation - even if it is Endeavor. 

“I mean, that really sucks,” Itsuka says with a frown. “But what about the rest of the class? If they’re more interested, you could try to invite everyone and just let the people who want to go take part.” 

Yaoyorozu considers this, but doesn’t look happy. “I suppose. Although it would be pleasant to have everyone involved. Is that how you handled your outing?” 

“We invited everyone, but one person didn’t show,” Honenuki says. “It was still a good time for the rest of us. It helped us a lot.” 

That seems to mollify Yaoyorozu, who nods and smiles. “Very well. I think the majority of our class should be amenable to that idea. It should help our cooperation as well. Thank you for sharing.” 

“Of course!” Itsuka beams. “We’re here to try and get along. Did you two have any other ideas to discuss?” 

Shouji raises a mouth. “I was hoping to organize some kind of interclass training event. It would be helpful if Classes 1-A and 1-B could get to know each other and practice working together, instead of remaining disparate.” 

Everyone considers that for a moment. “That’s not a bad idea,” Honenuki says. “It doesn’t seem like the Hero classes do much of that on their own. We could pitch it and see what our teachers say.” 

“I hate to admit this, but I doubt that we’ll be able to organize that sort of class before the Sports Festival either,” Yaoyorozu says. “It’s such a heavily competitive event, and we’ll already be occupied with our own separate training. I’m certain that our teachers will push us to focus on ourselves first.” 

Itsuka shrugs. “Yeah, that makes sense,” she says. Vlad-sensei had already said that everyone would be encouraged to prepare for the Sports Festival in the meantime; an interclass training session would require too much focus, no matter how useful it could be. “We’ll circle back to that in a few weeks and discuss it then. In the meantime, is there anyone among your class who might require accommodations…?”

Chapter Text

Hello, everyone! I hope you're still all doing well!

Since it's been so long, I felt like I should post an official notice of some sort. I promise that I do still think about this story and I want to work on it. But right now, I'm trying to prioritize the novel that I'm working on, and unfortunately I can't make any promises about when I might come back. I do want to, though. I have quite a lot of ideas for the plot, characters, and other things that I want to do with this story. It's not cancelled, I promise you all that much.

I hope I didn't ruin anyone's day with this. I just kind of realized that I've left you all in limbo. I do hope to see you again soon. Keep on keeping on, everyone.