Work Text:
Izuku:
It wasn’t as if he’d been looking for the position.
Sure, Izuku had never given up on his hero fanboy habits— his notebook collection was well into its thirty-second volume now— but he’d had to face the facts. Without a quirk, going out to the field and battling villains or navigating hazard zones would make him at best a liability and at worst, a dead man.
So he’d moved on. When Kacchan screamed insults, threw his notebooks in the fishpond, and left angry red starbursts on his skin, Izuku would creep into the little copse of trees behind the school and lick his wounds for an hour or two before going home.
When their homeroom teacher handed out the highschool application forms, Izuku took it home, laid it on his desk, and refused to look at it for the rest of the day. The next morning, he quietly filled it out with the name of a rather prestigious academy that was, if he squinted in just the right place, within sight of UA. (Because even then, he couldn’t quite give his dream up.)
When Izuku sat in an empty classroom late in the afternoon, studiously filling out math worksheets, he could sometimes hear the distant yells and crashes that floated through the window. In that academy he’d been one of the top students, no matter how he’d been scorned for his quirklessness. Izuku could only imagine how much more they’d say if they knew where he’d really wanted to be.
He joined a lot of clubs, picked up extracurricular volunteer work. It was nice to feel useful, nice to be a hero in any way he could. Maybe all the new things he was learning would come in useful someday.
Strangely, even though their homes were only a ten minute walk apart, and their schools twenty, Izuku never really saw Kacchan again. In person, that was. On the news, he appeared what Izuku swore was every other week, and no matter how much it hurt, he couldn’t keep from watching.
And slowly, Izuku began to memorize Kacchan’s famous classmates as well.
There was a boy who could harden every part of his body— even his hair!— and who inexplicably seemed to be friends with Kacchan.
A girl who was bubbly and cute in every sense of the word nearly took Kacchan down in what Izuku thought was the most riveting fight at the sports festival.
A striking boy with two-toned hair and glaciers at his fingertips dominated class 1-A, but could never seem to overcome Kacchan’s explosive anger.
Then, suddenly, it wasn’t just the kids that surrounded Kacchan who caught Izuku’s attention.
He watched a girl who showed a concerning amount of skin in her hero costume pull any contraption she could imagine straight from her body; followed her as she grew from a devastating defeat at her first sports festival to a powerful leader on the battlefield.
A boy who never drew attention and never seemed to speak commanded armies of animals wherever there was life to be found.
The class’s president who had engines in his legs and could at times move faster than the cameras could catch.
There was a boy with a literally shocking personality, a girl with pink skin who was a deadly shot with her acid, and a girl who was invisible when she had no clothes on. (Izuku wondered how she would manage the winter months.)
It was truly a class full of wonders— not even counting the rest of UA!— and Izuku wondered if maybe it was a good thing he hadn’t even applied. Still there were the other classes, like General Education, or the Support Course, that Izuku might’ve been able to hold his own in. Oh well.
In his final year of high school, Izuku itched to do something, do more. So he joined his mom at a soup kitchen that served the homeless of the subways and took up work there.
In the beginning it was just making the soup and handing it out, and Izuku did just fine at that. He did his best to talk to every person who came in, and found that although they lived on the fringes of society, they were often wells of invaluable advice for it, and Izuku made a point of committing their words to heart. But then his boss found out he was a straight As student at his school, and that he was particularly good at numbers and remembering names, so with a cheerful clap on the back, Izuku was promoted to a manager.
It surprised Izuku, how much he enjoyed taking care of people and keeping track of things.
After graduation, he took up the soup kitchen work full time— now for an actual paycheck— and watched Kacchan and the rest of class 1A band together with All Might, and Endeavor, and a dozen more of Izuku’s favorite heroes to take down what might’ve been one of the biggest villains of the century.
The next spring, Izuku’s boss came up to him and informed him that ‘unfortunately the soup kitchen would be closing for a month or two for renovations’ and ‘did Izuku have another job in the meantime?’
Izuku did not.
So his boss talked to a friend who got in contact with his sister who was dating a guy who worked under a woman who was cousins with a hero who was a coworker with another hero who was looking for employees for a new agency.
And when Izuku followed that trail of people all the way to its bitter end, he found that the hero in question was Iida Tenya. Ingenium. The hero who’d run from Hosu to Kamino in ten minutes flat to deliver a message during a mass villain attack, the hero who’d nearly died while fighting with hero Shouto to take down the Hero Killer Stain.
And that was… certainly something.
So here Izuku was. Sitting behind a desk in a classy, well-lit atrium with his head on his arms as heroes and businessmen and maintenance crews bustled across the floor.
A few heroes he’d never seen before poured out of the elevator, laughing and chattering, and Izuku made a mental note to look them up later. He only needed a few more entries to finish volume no.32 after all.
Tenya:
Although he invested a good deal of effort into making sure he at least recognized the faces of the people who worked under him, Iida knew it was impossible to personally involve himself with every office worker and janitor, so (shamefully) he often didn’t try.
Building a new agency from scratch was a decidedly stressful business, what with the legalities and settling his fellow heroes and hiring new employees. So really, even three weeks in, it was a wonder Iida noticed anything at all.
It all started with an unusual sight: a bunch of the rookie sidekicks— Green Thumb, Backlight, Volley, and Tripwire— all huddled excitedly around one of the greeter’s desks in the lobby. It had been a particularly hard week thanks to a sudden uptick in villainous activity, and even the new sidekicks had been called out to fight. Their sudden burst of smiles and enthusiasm was welcome. Iida sidled a little closer. It was just looking after his heroes, he reasoned, definitely not eavesdropping.
“Okay, okay, okay,” Backlight was saying, “do me next!”
“Hmm…”
The person behind the desk was an unassuming green-haired boy who looked maybe a year or three younger than Iida, which, given that Iida was only recently-twenty himself, was intriguing.
“Well, let’s see,” the boy said. “You know legendary espionage hero Invisible Girl, yes?”
Backlight nodded vigorously.
“Your quirk actually reminds me a lot of hers.”
“How??” Backlight demanded, leaning in and slapping his hands on the desk.
The boy laughed. “You’re not invisible, of course, but both of you have a good handle on manipulating light. In the last sports festival, you used it mainly to blind your opponents when they looked at you, then used your hand-to-hand skills to take them out manually, correct?”
Another nod.
“Based on what I’ve seen, you have the ability to use your quirk on yourself as well. Under the right circumstances, you could become a chameleon. Come over here,” the boy gestured Backlight behind his desk to the dark wooden wall behind. “Stand by that pillar. Okay, now think about stopping the light reflecting directly off you and instead manipulate the light bouncing off of the wall onto yourself.”
Taking a step back, the boy waited beside the other sidekicks with, as far as Iida could tell, bated breath. Backlight’s whole body shimmered, and the little corner he was standing in warped. Iida was friends with and had worked with some of the most incredible quirked people in the world, but it was still a sight to see.
At last the air stopped rippling, and Backlight was gone—mostly. When Iida looked down, he could still see the wood-textured outlines of Backlight’s shoes on the cream-tiled floor, and when he really paid attention, there was an odd outline of Backlight’s body against the wall. Still.
Iida emerged with applause from where he had not been hiding behind a tall potted plant. “Bravo, Backlight!”
Backlight flashed back into existence, and all the kids (and the secretary boy) jumped about a foot. It seemed their next lesson would have to be on situational awareness.
“Ingenium!” The sidekicks chorused.
“And you as well,” Iida added to the boy. “That was a truly inspired use of quirk analysis! What’s your name?”
“M-midoriya Izuku, Ingenium, sir,” the boy—Midoriya—squeaked out.
“No need for the sir,” Iida said cheerfully. He turned the cluster of sidekicks. “Did Midoriya-kun give you all an analysis?”
“Yes! He knows us all from our time at UA, and he’s got all these hero analysis notebooks, it’s amazing,” Green Thumb rambled.
That was certainly something special. “I don’t suppose you have one for me?” Iida asked, meaning to tease a little, but instead Midoriya flushed red.
“I do, si- Ingenium,” he stammered.
Even more interesting. Iida knew he was in the top fifty hero rankings, but it was still somewhat gratifying to see citizens being inspired by him in person.
“I’d love to see it, if you’d be willing to show me,” Iida declared.
Midoriya’s eyes were as round as saucers. “Yes, please!”
“How about you come up to my office right after your shift tomorrow? Barring an emergency, I should be free then.”
“I’ll be there,” Midoriya promised. He opened his mouth. Closed it again. “Have a good day, sir!”
There was that ‘sir’ again. Oh well. He’d convince Midoryia to shake it eventually. With a final wave, Iida checked his phone to make sure no new appointments had come up, and herded the sidekicks out the door
--
After their five-hour-long discussion the next day, failing to promote Midoriya Izuku to professional secretary and in-house analyst would’ve been a crime.
--
It turned out that for all his incredible brains and ability to talk for hours, Midoriya liked to stay under the radar. He’d protested all attempted promotions for days, but Iida was determined not to let such talent be wasted. Midoriya caved.
At least once a week, he called Midoriya to his office to discuss a new quirk, or battle, or villain. Midoriya’s advice proved to be invaluable almost without fail, and the Ingenium Agency’s efficiency and ratings spiked.
Talking to Midoriya was no chore either, with his energy, whip-crack humor, and thorough understanding of heroes and the hero industry. Iida even asked if he didn’t want to try becoming a hero himself, but Midoriya had only shaken his head with an odd smile on his face. (Later, Iida would find his file and read ‘quirkless,’ and suddenly understand a great number of things that had puzzled him before.)
It wasn’t long before Midoriya was a fixture, if only in Iida’s corner of the agency, and an excellent secretary to boot. Iida had never had so much free time with all the paperwork Midoriya chewed through. Sometimes Iida even found him in friendly conversation with the other workers on his floor.
Convincing Midoriya to call him ‘Iida-san’ and go out for coffee felt like a victory.
Ochako:
It would’ve been impossible not to notice the new secretary darting about Iida’s offices, but that didn’t mean Ochako knew anything about him.
Well, that wasn’t quite true. She knew he was cute, in a sort of normal way, his cheeks were liberally splashed with freckles, he seemed pretty high energy with all his chatter and rushing about, and that he looked really young to be working in the upper levels of a hero agency. Not that she could say anything, really.
Ochako’s first proper introduction to the guy was when he peeked into her office one morning, and when she waved him in, he set down on her desk a stack of paperwork (ugh), and a caramel coffee with a lot of foam on the top (her favorite).
“Hello! Did Iida-kun send you?” Ochako greeted curiously.
“Um, yes, he did,” the boy rushed out, “I’m Midoriya Izuku. I-it’s nice to meet you, Uravity.”
“It’s wonderful to meet you too, Midoriya-kun! I’ve seen you around a lot, recently.”
“Ah, right. I’m sort of helping Iida-kun with, um, hero analysis? and also the usual secretary things, you know? Like paperwork.”
Ochako couldn’t help making a face at the mention. “Yes, well.”
Midoriya laughed. It was a very nice laugh, especially when it wasn’t tight with nerves.
“Then, I’ll see you around?”
“Of course!” Ochako waved as he left.
After the door closed behind him, she looked back at her desk with a sigh. Distantly, she wondered how Midoriya’d known exactly what kind of coffee to get her. Had he asked someone? Good a friend as Iida was, that wasn’t the sort of thing he noticed and could’ve shared.
--
It wasn’t even three more days before Ochako had gotten Midoriya to call her ‘Uraraka-san,’ and she got to lord it over Tenya for a good few weeks.
Midoriya came to her office almost daily now, even if it was just to hang out for a few minutes, and Ochako welcomed the company. He still occasionally got a little fanboy tongue-tied, but coming from Midoriya it was endearing, rather than concerning. And besides, when he wasn’t stumbling over his own words, he was fun to talk to.
He gave good quirk advice too, and Ochako had already called the support department once to make an upgrade Midoriya had suggested. She saw why Tenya had taken him in.
It was a month or so into their acquaintance, hopefully friendship, that Ochako discovered a new side to the brilliant, adorable, fanboy Midoriya. She was out on a fairly high-profile rescue mission in Kitamatsu on the outskirts of Tokyo, or at least, it was supposed to have been a rescue mission. Instead, there was a villain, one who could cause landslides and earthquakes wherever he stomped, and Ochako had only a half a dozen rescue heroes and sidekicks for backup.
Her radio was crackling and screeching with static as it attempted to break past whatever signal-blocking field the villain had activated.
“Come on, come on,” Ochako hissed under her breath. Their little group was safe for as long as she could keep launching the rocks the villain threw at them up into the air, but her legs were already shaking and her breath came in short pants.
Finally, she heard the ping that signaled the Ingenium Agency, specifically Tenya’s radio. Without waiting for him to talk, she yelled into it, “Tenya-kun, I’m out on the Landslide Evac mission with six other rescue heroes and we’re under fire from a single earth-based quirk. Send backup asap!”
“Uraraka-san?”
Oh no, that was not Tenya’s voice.
“Midoriya-kun, will you get Tenya-kun please? We’re in kind of a pinch right now.”
“Iida-kun just left; there was a riot of some kind at the train station. What can I do to help?” He was talking fast, and his voice was serious.
“Okay. Okay.” Think, Ochako! “Round up whoever you can at the agency and send them over. Tenya-kun has a list of numbers in the top drawer of his desk for a couple of other agencies to call if we don’t have enough. Find people good against earth-based quirks if you can.”
“Got it.”
The radio crackled with indistinct sound for a minute. Then Midoriya burst back onto the line. He sounded out of breath. “How is the villain attacking?”
Years of training let Ochako skip over all her ‘whats’ and ‘whys’ and get straight to the point. “He’s stomping on the ground and sending waves of earth at us. There are at least four seconds between every one, but it’s not consistent, and he has us trapped, so he may just be playing with us. Oh! He’s barefoot. And he’s just sort of standing there, mocking us and attacking.”
“And your quirks?”
Ochako quickly scanned her wide-eyed, fearful group. “Laser-cutter quirk, slow earth moving quirk, five-point-contact metal folding quirk, blood-staunching quirk, heat-seeing quirk, and an engineer who can blow bubbles.”
“Alright. See if your earth mover can counter his quirk, even a little. Get to a place off the dirt if you can. I bet his feet have to be bare and he has to be standing still, so get him moving, or cover his feet, or…” she heard Midoriya swallow audibly, “damage his feet. Maybe the laser quirk. I need to go. Hang in there, Uraraka-san!”
Not even fifteen minutes later, a dozen new heroes poured onto the scene, including Todoroki-kun and Koda-kun, but Ochako already had the villain wrapped in metal and floating ten feet up. It was a rescue and battle that was broadcast for weeks, and Ochako shot up seven places on the hero rankings.
It wasn’t until later; after she was out of the hospital and back in the agency that she heard the stories. How Midoriya had called the heroes, and been dismissed, and returned with the full fury of “Ingenium’s personal assistant and strategist” and all the details of Ochako’s plight. How he’d spent those few days of Ochako’s hospitalization working nonstop and constantly checking into her empty office. He had a reputation.
The very first thing Ochako did when she got back to work was to stomp into Tenya’s office and demand he actually promote Midoriya to personal assistant, or something that would give him clout among the heroes. Turned out she didn’t have to worry. Midoriya was already official strategist and secretary for the entire agency.
As it should be, Ochako thought.
Shouto:
Shouto’s first encounter, if it could really be called that, with Midoriya Izuku was under somewhat unusual circumstances— after all, it was rare that Iida called, and it was never that the voice on the other end wasn’t his old class president. But Shouto’s confusion was soon replaced with fear for Uraraka, and he was out the door in under a minute. By the time he reached the scene, he’d forgotten the strange caller entirely, and it had never come up again.
Until now.
As Shouto crossed the Ingenium Agency’s expansive atrium, he realized his hands were still trembling from hours before. Enji had been… unwilling to let him go. But the courts were on Shouto’s side, and now he was free. Mostly.
“Um… hero Shouto?”
Shouto looked up at the soft voice to his left. There was a boy with curly green hair, wide eyes, and a pressed black shirt staring up at him.
“…That’s me.”
“Oh, I know. I mean!” The boy hastily backtracked, “you’re very recognizable, of course. Not that it wouldn’t’ve been polite to do introductions anyway! I just wanted to…” He trailed off in a squeak.
Shouto raised an eyebrow.
“Um, you looked… uncomfortable. Are you okay?”
Genuine concern was shining in the boy’s eyes, and Shouto couldn’t shake the feeling that he was familiar, despite never having seen this person in his life.
“I’m fine. Or I will be.” Shouto added in an unusual burst of honesty. He frowned at himself. Where had that come from?
“Oh! That’s… that’s good,” the boy said.
Shouto nodded.
“Right,” the boy visibly gathered himself. “My name is Midoriya Izuku, strategist and head secretary for the Ingenium Agency. Iida-kun sent me to give you a tour and get you settled in until he returns from his mission.”
This flustered boy, who Shouto was sure couldn’t be over eighteen or so, was head secretary? It never would’ve been allowed in the Endeavor Agency. But then again, when had Shouto approved of anything that went on in the Endeavor Agency? He hoped Iida knew what he was doing.
“I’m Todoroki Shouto. But you knew that already.” He inclined his head.
“Yes, well,” Midoriya gave him an apologetic smile. “It’s nice to meet you anyway. Shall we get started?”
--
They were only halfway through the building tour, and Shouto was beginning to suspect he’d need to revise all his first impressions of Midoriya. Even though he practically bounced as he walked, constantly stopped for snippets of conversation with nearly everyone they passed, and generally looked the opposite of reliable and serious, Midoriya was giving very comprehensive detail of all the aspects of the agency and had been able to satisfactorily answer all Shouto’s questions so far. He even listened attentively to every problem or concern that the other employees threw at him, sometimes solving them on the spot.
Shouto’s hands had stopped shaking a few rooms back, his anxiety unable to withstand Midoriya’s onslaught of cheerful energy.
“Last stop before we hit the boring offices,” Midoriya called back over his shoulder. “Welcome to the cafeteria!”
The delicious scents of grilled meat and sizzling oil hit Shouto’s nose the second the door swept open. To his surprise, he found his stomach growling.
“Wanna eat before we go on?”
“...Sure.”
He allowed Midoriya to guide him to a table, then waited as Midoriya flitted off the counter. Shouto wondered what he’d be getting.
He didn’t have to wonder long. Within moments, Midoriya was back with a heaping pile of soba that he promptly shoved under Shouto’s nose. He looked up in confusion.
“How did you know?”
“Oh,” Midoriya scratched the back of his head. “I was something of a hero fanboy as a kid—still am, really—and, well. You’re one of my favorites. I always listened in whenever you gave an interview.”
Knowing his mouth had dropped open, Shouto tried to reel in his surprise. Favorite? He wasn’t peoples’ favorite. Powerful, sure, enough that it got him into the top 20 hero rankings, but he wasn’t… he was cold. “Glacial Hero” wasn’t his moniker solely thanks to his quirk.
“I… thank you.”
Midoriya had been watching him with something suspiciously close to understanding in his eyes, but it vanished when he smiled. “Of course! Working in this agency has been something of a dream, you know.”
The rest of the meal passed in quiet thoughtfulness, save for when people approached to talk to Midoriya or stare at Shouto.
--
“This is your office,” Midoriya announced, opening the door with a flourish. “The Ingenium Agency will, of course, provide necessary supplies, but feel free to add any personal effects as you see fit. I trust I don’t have to give you the forbidden materials speech,” He added with a stern frown.
The expression looked so out of place on Midoriya that Shouto couldn’t stop a laugh. He immediately stifled it, but when he glanced at Midoriya apologetically, his guide was grinning.
“So you do smile!” Midoriya declared. “It looks good on you.”
Shouto looked down at himself. “I- I guess I do. Thanks.”
Midoriya’s face softened. “Are you feeling better now, Todoroki-kun?”
After a moment of consideration— feeling the muscles still twitching at the corners of his mouth, the steadiness of his hands— Shouto nodded slowly.
“I think so.”
Midoriya’s smile could’ve blinded the sun.
A Guest at the 3rd Annual Ingenium Agency Gala:
Kei knew this was the kind of experience a guy like him would only get once in a lifetime.
Him! A humble UA second-year, not even finished with his first internship, a guest at the annual Ingenium Gala; even if he was only there because his sister had passed up her invitation. Kei was still going to relish every second of it.
Slowly, he edged around the hall, dazzled by the ocean of heroes and businessmen and benefactors and visitors all dressed in their glittering finest. Nervously, Kei smoothed out a wrinkle in his own suit cuff.
The crack of the ballroom’s main double doors opening drew Kei’s attention, and he craned his head to see the new arrivals. His mouth dropped.
There was Ingenium, in a crisp white suit that echoed the design of his hero costume, leading a handful of top heroes and hero veterans into the room.
At Ingenium’s side was his older brother, in a dark suit and wheeling himself confidently across the floor. Behind the pair, chatting and laughing, came Uravity, Kei’s favorite hero after she impossibly beat the odds at the Kitamatsu Landslide Mission, Stormfront, who’d just changed his hero name last year, Tsukuyomi, the newest and most intimidating addition to the Ingenium agency, Creati, visiting from her own wildly successful agency, Earphone Jack, who was close at Creati’s side and apparently uncaring of the party’s dress code, Ground Zero, who was scowling even as he talked, Red Riot, Kei’s second favorite just for being able to put up with Ground Zero, and the instantly-recognizable All Might, gaunt and tired-looking, but carrying himself with as much pride as in his peak hero days.
In their midst was a man— in a normal, slim black suit, save for its odd green highlights— who was laughing and having his cheek pinched by Uravity. It took Kei a moment to place him. It had to be. The simultaneously mysterious and legendary secretary of the Ingenium Agency, Midoriya Izuku.
Cautiously, Kei crept a little closer, even as the group was swarmed by the room’s other occupants.
Kei had heard a lot of stories about Midoriya Izuku, but half of them were just vague rumors and the other half seemed a little too impossible to be true. The man rarely appeared on TV with the heroes he supposedly managed, and kept a low enough profile in public that even candid photographs were hard to find.
Just as Kei was contemplating it, he caught Midoriya Izuku bowing out of a conversation to slip off to one of the buffet tables. Kei followed.
Pausing at the opposite end of the table, Kei debated the best way to approach Midoriya, but the man in question turned around before he could even get close.
“Hello! Oh, Atsumaki Kei, if I remember correctly? I saw some clips from the Warehouse Raid at your internship. Very innovative use of the cartons to split the villains until Moonshot could take them down.” Midoriya nodded decisively, and smiled. “How can I help you?”
Kei was floored. No, more like clip-straight-through-the-floor-and-into-the-next-dimension-ed.
“You’re- uh- you’re Midoriya Izuku?” Kei was stalling and he knew it.
“The one and only,” Midoriya agreed cheerfully. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“S-same,” Kei stammered. Midoriya was still looking at him inquisitively, so he continued. “I guess I just heard some stories about… you? And I wanted to know…”
“If they were true?”
Kei nodded mutely.
Shaking his head, Midoriya sighed. “I keep telling them not to spread rumors about me, I really haven’t done much. What have you heard?”
With a completely unnecessary glance around, Kei whispered, “I heard you were the mastermind behind the Kitamatsu Landslide Mission?”
Midoriya’s nose wrinkled. “If running around like a beheaded chicken and screaming for help counts, then I suppose so.”
“You gave Stormfront a fire quirk and convinced him to change his name?”
“Now that’s a straight out lie,” Midoriya laughed, “Shouto had his fire the whole time. He just needed a little help trusting himself.”
“How about when you scouted out and took down an entire villain operation by yourself because the heroes were late?” Kei knew his eyes were bugging out of his head, but he couldn’t be bothered to stop it.
“I… technically true, but wildly exaggerated. I was sent out there ahead as a strategist, but when I saw the villains all leaving the building, I thought it would be more efficient to just get the information myself. There wasn’t really any opposition.”
“Memorizing a labyrinth in five minutes and directing Stormfront and Creati through it before a bomb could explode?”
“I had a computer and a map. Technology is wonderful.”
“Teaching All Might to play video games?”
“How did that even get out.”
“Taking out a dragon shapeshifter with a donut and a cup of coffee?”
“What the heck.”
An arm dropped over Kei’s shoulders and he spun around to see Uravity’s cheery face right next to his. He screamed.
“Aw, don’t listen to Izuku’s lies. He absolutely killed a dragon with a donut.”
“Ochako-chan,” Midoriya said reproachfully.
Kei was busy figuring out how to get air into his lungs.
“I’m almost certain that Izuku actually has a quirk, and it’s just breaking the laws of the universe as he sees fit.”
Oh God, was that the ever-stoic Stormfront talking to him and making a joke?
More footsteps sounded from behind, and the unmistakable snort of Ground Zero. “No, he’s just a loser who keeps getting lucky.”
“Don’t listen to him,” Red Riot said with a bright grin. “Baku-bro’s salty because he had to take orders from Izuku on the last mission.”
“I— right,” Kei wheezed.
“Not in front of the intern,” Midoriya interjected with a sigh. “You’re all fired.”
Instantly, all the A Rank heroes (with the possible exception of Ground Zero) stiffened up, and Uravity snapped a sharp salute. “Sorry Boss, won’t happen again.”
“See that it doesn’t,” Midoriya said with mock-sternness. “Ochako-chan, I’m pretty sure Atsumaki-kun here is one of your fanboys, so you can stay. The rest of you all need to keep mingling at Tenya-kun’s party.”
With assorted grumbling the heroes wandered away, and Midoriya watched them go with a smile Kei couldn’t quite interpret. “I should go as well. Atsumaki-kun, I hope to see you at the next sports festival. What would you think about taking your next internship at Ingenium Agency?”
And before Kei could even begin to think of an answer, Midoriya was gone.
The moment his sister knew what she was missing, Kei was dead.